Page 50 of Jackson's Redemption
I was sitting on the deck of the condo my mother had purchased after leaving my father. Purchased with money she’d presumably made in the divorce settlement. Only there was no way, on a cop’s salary, my dad could have afforded to give her half of everything he had and still keep the house. No way she could have paid for this.
I remembered she’d told me she bought it outright. The size of it, the location. Easy, this place had to have cost close to half a million dollars.
And I hadn’t once asked her how it was possible that Dad could have afforded this?
I thought about Jackson. The two years of his life he paid so that my mother could have this. So that my dad could keep his lifestyle. How many more Jacksons were out there? How many were still in prison? At least that was one thing the court system was doing. Rechecking every arrest my father made to determine the legitimacy of it.
If Jackson wanted, he could hire a lawyer to bring a case against the county that could result in waiving his criminal conviction. It wouldn’t change the past, but it would remove his permanent label as a convicted felon.
I should tell him that. Make sure he knew.
The temptation nearly made my mouth water I wanted that so bad. To tell him that my side still hurt and have him cuddle me. To listen to his grunts and interpret what he meant by them.
To tell him a knock-knock joke that would make him groan at how bad it was.
“Here you go, sweetie. I made you some tea.”
My mother, an overly tanned woman, but still a knockout in her fifties, stepped onto the balcony with a mug of tea in her hand. I think she was convinced if I drank enough of it, I would magically be healed.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, taking the mug from her. She had her dark hair pulled back and was wearing white pants and a sheer top that wouldn’t last two seconds in Alaska.
Stop thinking about Alaska!
This is better, I thought. Better having her company rather than thinking about Jackson. Wondering if he was thinking about me.
I love you. And I’m sad as fuck you’re leaving.
I mean, really, who does that? Who just comes right out with the L word like that as if he wasn’t embarrassed to say it? As if he wasn’t afraid at all I would reject that love.
Which I did, obviously, by leaving.
Because it couldn’t have been real. Because nothing in my freaking life, apparently, has been real.
“You know, honey, I was thinking, with the money your father left you and if you sold the house, you could find a place near me. I think it would be good for you to be close.”
“I’m not taking any of Dad’s money, Mom.” I took a sip of tea.
We hadn’t discussed it. Mostly because I didn’t have the physical energy. Between leaving Jackson, the long flight home—even though that had been in first class—plus more doctor visits to confirm my injuries were healing properly, I was spent. It was only now that I could see the end of my recovery in sight that I thought, maybe. Maybe another week before I could face my future again.
“What are you talking about? Of course you are. It’s your inheritance.”
I set the mug on the table between our two deck chairs. “It’s dirty money. You know that. It’s what you used to buy this condo. I’m not touching a dime of it. I plan to donate it all to a charity that provides legal aid to people who can’t afford it. It doesn’t fix what he did, but it’s something.”
“I see.” Her face was tight, the lines around her eyes and lips more prominent. Her body was rigid as she said, “I suppose you judge me.”
Did I? It felt like that took too much energy.
“I don’t judge anyone except Dad. But I guess I have to ask. Did you know? Or did you pretend not to know?”
She sighed. “The latter. He said the money was from security consulting jobs on the side and I told myself it could be true. Hank wasn’t like that when I married him. He was a good man, a good cop. But over the years, I could see him changing. It was like he stopped having faith in people. Everyone was a crook. Everyone was doing drugs. That’s what he would say. I would tell him,it’s not everyone, only the bad people. I remember him telling me one time that we all had bad people inside us just waiting to get out.”
I closed my eyes, trying not to remember him telling me the same thing.
“It’s why I left when I did. I wanted to make sure you were in college first. I didn’t want to leave while you were still in high school. I knew you would have stayed with him and I didn’t want to risk you finding out who he really was. It’s why I fought so hard against you joining the force.”
“You said it was beneath me,” I reminded her. “That I should want to be a lawyer instead. I thought it was because you were bitter toward Dad.”
She smiled then. “There may have been a little of that, too.”
