Page 11 of New Growth
At the small cost of losing my father.
The lawyer cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the room. “I understand this may be unexpected, but these were Mr. Sawyer’s wishes. The estate is legally bound by the terms of the will. There is more if you would like to hear it.”
“Why didn’t you just say that? Go on,” Ryan perked up at the news of a possible ‘award.’
The lawyer opened an envelope and said, “This is a note left by Mr. Sawyer. I will read it to you now.”
We all sat up to hear his words:
“Dear family,
If you are reading this, that means God has finally called me home. Do not be sad. This is a part of life, and we all knew this day would come. We can’t control the hand life deals, but we can adapt and pivot. Stay strong, hold onto each other, and don’t live with regrets as I die with none. The love I’ve received in this life was enough to span ten lifetimes, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Now, for the matter of my estates. I, Elijah Sawyer, of sound body and mind, leave with you as follows:
To Ryan, my wild child, I hope the house will teach you responsibility. Once you have completed your degree at community college, the deed will be passed on to you. Until then, the house will be in Elliot’s name.
To Katherine, my love and best friend, thank you for the wonderful gift of our children, which I could never repay you for. I leave you our wedding rings you returned after the divorce. You decide whether to keep or sell them. I also leave you with the years we spent together. They have always brought me comfort, and I hope you will feel the same.
Finally, to my extraordinary Elliot, you do so much for everyone else. Please take this money and do something for yourself.
All my love—Daddy.”
The room fell silent again as the lawyer stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
“I’ll give you some time to discuss as a family. When you’re ready, we can move forward with the legal formalities.”
As he left the room, the tension lingered. I looked at each of their annoyed faces and wondered how we had gotten here. Daddy’s death was supposed to bring us together, but it felt like it was tearing us apart instead.
Jonathan opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.
“I need some air,” I said abruptly, pushing my chair back and rising before anyone could stop me.
I made it halfway down the hall before I heard him call after me. “Ellie, wait.”
I turned just as he caught my wrist and pulled me toward the nearest bathroom. The door clicked shut behind us, and the echo bounced off the tile walls.
“Hey,” Jonathan said gently, “what’s going on? You okay?”
I rubbed my arms. “It’s just a lot. Today’s draining.”
“I get it,” he said, his tone soft. “Ryan’s taking it hard, too.”
I nodded, but the unease was growing. “What was that earlier? Why was your hand on her knee?”
He blinked, taken aback. “What? What are you talking about?”
“I saw you,” I said, heart thudding. “You were holding her leg.”
He scoffed. “Ellie, come on. You’re being hysterical.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You’re stressed and seeing things. You need to relax.” He stepped closer. “Matter of fact, I think I can help you.”
“I’m not in the mood, Jonathan.”
He ignored that. “You’ll feel so much better.”
