James Grippando - Found money

“No.”

“You came by the house and shot her with her own gun.”

“That’s not true.”

“Admit it. You killed her!”

“For God’s sake, she was already dying!”

They looked at each other, stunned, as if neither could fathom the words she’d just uttered. Gram broke down, sobbing. “I’d already lost one child, Amy. I couldn’t lose you, too. When your mother said she was giving you to Marilyn, something snapped inside me. It was like losing your father all over again. Only this time, I could stop it from happening. This was the only way to stop it.”

Amy stared, incredulous. The rationale of a murderer. It was as good as a confession, but she felt no fulfillment. Only sadness — then anger.

“She deserved it, didn’t she, Gram?”

“What?”

“In your eyes. Mom deserved to die a death as violent as Dad’s.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Mom never grieved enough for your son, did she? I saw it in your eyes whenever she went on a date, the nights you babysat me. I saw it every time she brought another man through our front door. Your looks of contempt. You could have pulled the trigger right then and there.”

“Amy, I did this for you.”

Amy hurried from the kitchen and walked briskly down the hall. Gram followed.

“Amy, wait!”

She ignored the call and entered Taylor’s room. Her daughter was still sound asleep. Amy snatched the tote bag from the closet and packed some clothes for Taylor.

“What are you doing?” She was shaking, desperate.

Amy strung the bag over her shoulder and lifted Taylor from the bed. Taylor’s arms wrapped around her neck, but she kept right on sleeping. Amy held her tight as she blew right past Gram, crossed the living room, and threw open the front door.

“Please,” said Gram, her voice cracking. “I swear, I did it for you.”

Amy stopped in the doorway, looked Gram in the eye. “You did it for yourself. Everything you do, you do for yourself.”

Amy slammed the door behind her. With Taylor in her arms, she headed for her truck — her mother’s old truck.

“Robert Oppenheimer,” the voice boomed over the loudspeaker. A beaming young man wearing a flowing black gown hurried toward the dais. It wasn’t the usual rowdy crowd that filled Folsom Stadium on fall football Saturdays, but even in the silence of a sunny spring morning the excitement was palpable as each member of the class of 2000 had a personal moment of glory. For the big May class, no place but the stadium could accommodate the University of Colorado’s combined ceremonies for all degrees, bachelors through doctorate. The doctoral candidates went first. Amy would be the fifth person across the stage. Right after Oppenheimer.

She felt goose bumps. Her friend and faculty advisor, Maria Perez, squeezed her hand as they climbed the steps to the left of the stage. The dean of the department of astrophysical and planetary sciences stood center stage, waiting. The field level was packed with students in full graduation regalia.

“Amy Parkens.”

She stepped forward, smiling widely.

“Way to go, Mommy!”

Taylor was on her feet, standing on her seat cushion in the tiered seating section. Maria’s husband was seated right beside her, trying to get her down, but she was too proud to be controlled.

Amy gave a wink from afar, then shook hands with the dean, who presented her diploma. The traditional doctoral hood went over her shoulders. The tassel flipped as she crossed to the other side. She’d made it. She and Taylor, alone, had made it. Though not without a few bumps in the road.

Amy had told no one about her grandmother. She’d decided she never would. Her mother’s death would forever be a suicide. Officially. Amy’s silence was as much about mercy as it was about moving on with her own life. A sensational trial with Amy as witness against her own grandmother was no way to find closure. It seemed like punishment enough for Gram to know that Amy had uncovered the truth.

Over the following ten months, Amy had built a new life. Leaving the law firm had been easy. Forgiving Marilyn Gaslow had not been so easy. A brave night at Cheesman Dam couldn’t overcome twenty years of deceit. After Marilyn had withdrawn her name from consideration for the Federal Reserve appointment, the two of them had simply seemed to pull away from each other.

The hardest part had been trying to explain to Taylor why they couldn’t live with Gram anymore. The return to astronomy had helped the transition. She and Taylor had moved closer to the Meyer-Womble Observatory on Mt. Evans, where Amy could complete her doctoral research. Gram stayed behind in Boulder. They hadn’t spoken since that night last summer, though her grandmother did write once. The letter was returned unopened. In her own controlling way, she undoubtedly hoped Amy would move back to Boulder after graduation. Amy wouldn’t. Not ever. At least not as long as Gram was alive.

After the ceremony, the graduates gathered outside the stadium with their families. Amy filed out with Maria and waited for Taylor and Maria’s husband. All around her, loving couples were locked in hugs and congratulatory kisses. Amy tried to hide the funny look on her face, but her tell-all expressions were not to be contained. Maria gave her an awkward hug that, in this setting, seemed a bit like a consolation prize.

Taylor came running through the crowd, brightening Amy’s face. “Can I wear your funny hat, Mommy?”

“You betcha,” she said as she lifted her from the sidewalk. She put her down and pulled the cap over her eyes. Just then, someone caught her eye through the crowd. He was standing near the stadium exit. Amy’s smile faded. It was Ryan Duffy.

“It’s too big!” shouted Taylor.

Amy was still looking at Ryan. He took a tentative step forward, then stopped.

“Maria, could you watch Taylor for a second?”

“Sure.” She knelt on one knee and adjusted Taylor’s mortarboard.

Amy weaved her way through the noisy crowd. Ryan slowly came forward, as if to meet her halfway. They had parted on decent terms last summer. The fact that Ryan’s father was no rapist had taken away the bitterness. Amy had thought about him from time to time over the past eleven months, during many a lonely night at the observatory on Mt. Evans. Neither one had called the other, however. Circumstances had pushed them so far apart, only a lunatic would have picked up the phone. Or so she had thought.

Amy stopped right before him. “What brings you here?”

He gave a half-smile. “I felt like we had some unfinished business.”

“Really?”

He rocked on his heels, as if he had something to say and wasn’t quite sure how to say it. “It’s been a strange year for me.”

“Me too.”

“Not all bad. I’m a new uncle. My sister Sarah had a little girl. Fortunately she doesn’t seem to be taking after her mother or her father. That’s a good thing.”

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah. It’s nice.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling you didn’t come all this way just to tell me that.”

“You’re right.” He looked away, then back, as if words were difficult. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I was just waiting for the divorce to finally come through before I did.”

“Why?”

“Just wanted to see how everything shook out with the money. Now that all the legal stuff is over, my share has finally been decided.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Still talking about the money.”

“I never felt entitled to any of it, honestly. I’ve always thought that if there was an innocent victim, it was you.” He pulled a paper sack from his pocket and offered it to her. “I want you to have it.”