Page 36 of Breakout (Walker University #3)

twenty-seven

“ W elcome home, Ms. Anderson,” Jeeves says as he opens the door.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I’m good. I’m going to be in the office.”

He smiles at me sympathetically. “Take your time. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

I walk away from Jeeves and make my way through the house.

The office door is shut, and I push it open slowly.

Dust motes float through the air as the sun shines through the room.

Quietly, I shut the door behind me and make my way to the well-worn leather chair that caught my attention the last time I was here.

Taking a deep breath, I sit down and pull out the letter that’s been haunting me for months. I set my bag on the ground and lean back in the chair, making myself comfortable. Carefully I run my thumb over the messy cursive that says my name.

My grandfather’s handwriting.

For months I’ve let the contents of this letter plague me, but it’s time to finally face whatever he wanted me to know. I can’t keep putting it off anymore. Especially with the verdict coming down in just a few short days.

Turning the letter over, I slip my finger under the seal and gently open it. When I pull the letter out, I can’t help but smile at the weight of the paper. Something about it screams wealth. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this type of money, but I guess time will tell.

I unfold the letter and take a deep breath. Then I start to read.

My dearest Peyton,

My sweet girl, my biggest regret is not knowing you like a grandfather should and knowing that I failed you just like I failed your father. If you’re reading this, then I’m gone.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not taking you in when you needed someone to love you.

I’m sorry for dropping this at your feet when you weren’t expecting it.

I’m sorry that you will never know me. I could make more excuses and apologies, but I won’t.

IfI’ve learned anything in my ninety years of life, it’s that it’s best to let a sleeping dog lie sometimes.

There are some things you need to know, though.

I was a horrible father. I never learned to balance family and work life until it was too late.

I know it’s not an excuse, but I was raised to let my wife deal with the children.

My sole focus was to provide for my family.

I was blessed in the fact the men in my family had instilled the need to work my hands to the bone and earn everything I had.

I finally made it, but the buck didn’t stop there. I had to work even harder to keep it.

When I was home, I wasn’t present in the way my children needed me to be.

I should have been there to teach them the same lessons, but I was so busy chasing a dollar, I let them slip through my hands.

When I wasn’t working, I spent all my time with my June.

My sweet Junie, your grandmother. That woman owned me, heart and soul.

When given the opportunity to spend time with her, I took it.

If there is one thing I am proud of, it’s the fact that your father never questioned what it was like to have two parents who love each other.

I’m ashamed to admit that I never tried to get to know my son until it was too late.

By that time, bridges had been burned, and he had no interest in rebuilding, not that I blame him.

It’s true that I tried to force his hand where your mother is concerned.

I thought they were too young, not even adults fully themselves when they met.

Because of my blindness, I lost my son, by extension you, and that’s something I regret.

After he left, I knew I needed to change.

I tried to become the father my daughter Gloria and my son, John, needed, but it was too late.

Despite my Junie’s trying, our daughter was not someone we could be proud of.

She was entitled and thought she was better than everyone.

She thought everyone was beneath her and unfortunately raised her daughter, your cousin Janis, to be the same.

She married a rich man for his money and continued to build on the wealth she felt was owed to her. She stayed in that marriage long after she should have, but that’s a story for another day.

When Gloria died, I tried to be there for Janis, but I just couldn’t.

She demanded too much. If given the keys to the kingdom, I think she would spend every dime that generations of Andersons have accumulated in a matter of a week.

Gloria raised her daughter to be a viper, and that’s exactly what she is.

Which leads me to you. Oh, my sweet girl.

I wanted to take you in. I wanted another chance to be the father I wish I was to your father.

I was afraid, though, that I would mess you up just as badly as I did my own children.

I couldn’t risk your father rolling over in his grave because I did you wrong.

I knew that with Janis still around, it would have made your life hell, and you didn’t deserve that.

She would have chewed you up and spat you out without question. I needed to save you from that fate.

So instead, I sat by and watched. I had hoped to stay alive until you graduated college.

I planned to introduce myself to you then.

I know it’s silly, but I was hopeful that you would be grown enough that I couldn’t mess you up.

That you would have been strong enough to face your cousin and not break.

You don’t know it yet, but I met you once. It was your senior year of high school, and you were working at the diner. I sat in your section, and it was a slow day. I convinced you to sit with me and tell me your plans.

Despite the hand that you were dealt in life, you had such big dreams, and I knew then that you would fulfill every single one of them. I’m proud of you, Peyton. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but I am.

I should apologize for the requirement of you being married to receive your inheritance, but I won’t.

It has nothing to do with the fact I think a woman needs a man to take care of her.

What it really boils down to is that I hate the idea of you being alone.

During our meeting, you let it slip that you were used to people leaving you.

I hope by that stipulation you will realize that’s not true.

I hope your husband treats you well, and on the off chance he doesn’t, don’t worry. I took enough precautions to protect you. Our money, your money, is yours and yours alone. I pray it never comes to that, though.

I love you Peyton, and this was the only way I knew how to show you. I hope you will someday find it in your heart to forgive me for not being there for you.

I don’t know the last time I wrote such a lengthy letter, and my hand is starting to cramp.

I’m sure at this point you are curious about the key in the envelope.

When your parents died, I went through their home and saved some things that I thought you might like.

The key is to the safety deposit box that contains those items.

I love you, Peyton. I can’t wait to see what all you accomplish in life. Just know that your options are endless. I’ll always be watching over you from above.

Love,

Grandpa Matthias

I openly sob as the letter falls to my lap. Out of all the things I was expecting, it wasn’t that.

Scanning the parking lot, I look for her car. As soon as I see it, I can’t help but chuckle. Her car is beat up in a sea of brand-new Mercedes. I’m sure when people see it, they will wonder why it’s here. What they won’t know is that my girl has enough money to buy them over time and time again.

Or she will.

“Hey,” she says as I get out of my car.

When I got her text earlier saying she needed me, my heart dropped. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew I needed to get to her as fast as possible.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I pull her into my arms.

Peyton buries her face into my chest. “I’m better now.”

As fucked up as it is, that sentence makes me feel ten feet tall.

I pull back slightly and cup her face. “Tell me what’s wrong and why your eyes are red.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I did something stupid.”

“Okay, whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.”

“I finally did it.”

“Did what, Pey? I’m not following.”

“I read the letter.”

Oh. OH!

“Okay…you’re going to have to give me more than that. I don’t know how that’s something stupid.”

“It was stupid because I never told you I was going to do it.”

“It’s not like you needed permission.”

“I know, but I went and read the letter at the estate. No one knows about any of this, so no one knew where I was, and let’s be honest, my car isn’t the best, so I probably should have given you a heads-up.”

“I mean, yeah, in the future I would appreciate the heads-up, but I get it. Do you want to tell me what it said?”

“Here.” She pulls back and pulls a letter out of her bag.

Quickly I scan the letter. It’s clear Matthias lived with a lot of regret in his life and felt like he let his granddaughter down.

It’s a letter of remorse and apologies. To be completely honest, I haven’t been his biggest fan.

I can’t imagine knowing that my grandchild was abandoned and not doing anything about it.

“Well, damn. How do you feel?”

“Sad. I mean, I get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to like it, though.”

“And I don’t, but there’s no going back now. He’s gone.”

“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it, but it makes sense now that Janis’s mom is gone too. I had wondered why she wasn’t fighting the will.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought about it until I read it.” She sighs.

“So I’m assuming we are here for whatever he saved from your parents’ place.”

“Yeah.”

“Come on then. I think you’ve waited long enough.”

Hand in hand we walk into the bank. I wait by her side as they verify her identity. Then they take us back to a small room. Only when the manager finally leaves the room do I let go of her hand and move to wrap my arm around her shoulders.

With shaking hands, she pulls the box closer to us and opens it. When the contents become visible, her breath catches. Right on top is a set of wedding rings, both male and female, along with some other miscellaneous jewelry. Nothing extravagant but all clearly loved.

She reaches in and picks up the wedding rings. “When I was about eleven, I asked my caseworker what happened to their wedding rings. I had seen a movie where a girl got them when her parents died, and I wondered why I hadn’t. She told me she assumed they were buried with them.”

I lean in and kiss the side of her head. “They are beautiful.”

“They weren’t big and flashy, but they loved them,” she says wistfully.

Carefully she sets them to the side and removes the other jewelry from the box, studying each piece before setting it down. At the bottom of the security box is a photo album. When she pulls it out, I push the box out of the way.

“Thank you,” she says as she rests the album against the table.

She opens it, and right there on the first page is a young couple with their faces smashed up against each other.

“You look like her.”

Peyton looks like a spitting image of her mother but with her father’s eyes and hair color. There’s no denying who her parents are.

“You think so?”

“Definitely.”

“You know what’s kind of funny?”

“What?”

“We have a picture just like this.”

I tilt my head and study the photo. “Do we?”

She nods. “We took it last year. Back when Clay and Grace were still pretending to be just friends.”

“You’ll have to show me,” I tell her as I squeeze her arm.

Page after page, her parents’ life story plays out before our eyes, the love between the two becoming more evident the deeper into the book we go. Only when we reach the photos from her birth does she cover her mouth and cry.

In the photo, her mom looks exhausted, but happy as she holds a newborn Peyton. Her dad crawled up onto the hospital bed and is smiling brightly as he holds his wife’s and his baby girl’s hands.

“God, they look so young,” she sobs.

“It says right here that they were just a year older than I am,” I say as I tap the ages at the bottom of the photo.

“God, I couldn’t imagine,” she says, shaking her head.

I hum but don’t agree because I can see it clearly. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think either of us are ready for a kid, but if we had one, I wouldn’t be mad. I fucking love the idea of Peyton being the mother of my kids.

When the last photo comes into view, she sighs and leans her head onto my shoulder.

“I thought I would never see these again.”

“I’m glad he saved them for you.”

“Me too.”

We fall silent as I hold her, offering her as much comfort as I can.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“For what?”

“For always dropping whatever you have going on and coming to save me.”

“Always, Pey. If you need me, I’ll be there. Always. No matter what. No matter when. Just say the word.”