Chapter 10 - The Mother Who Carried the Papers
"Don't let your lawyer make me testify," Loretta said again.
Her voice sounded so fragile that for a moment I wanted to promise her anything.
That had always been our family's arrangement.
Gerald frightened everyone, Loretta suffered quietly, and I was expected to surrender something to restore peace.
"I can't make that promise," I told her.
She drew a shaky breath.
"Your father says the judge will blame me for everything."
"Then we need to know what you actually did."
She began crying.
I listened without trying to fill the silence.
When she finally spoke, she admitted that Gerald had asked her to pick up documents from Nolan Price's office.
He had told her the papers would help refinance his struggling business and save the family from bankruptcy.
She claimed she had not understood that the documents purported to transfer the farmhouse.
But she knew the packet had been returned without my presence.
She had seen my name written across the signature line.
"Did you ask who signed it?" I asked.
Loretta did not answer.
"Mom, did you ask?"
"Your father told me not to interfere."
I closed my eyes.
This was not the complete confession I wanted, but it was enough to show that she had noticed something wrong and chosen silence.
"Tell Maya the truth," I said.
"I don't know what it will mean for you legally, but another lie will make everything worse."
She begged me to speak to Gerald first.
I refused.
For the first time, I heard anger beneath her fear.
"You've become hard, Harriet."
I thought about the friends I had helped bury, the sailors I had carried through disasters, and the pain of teaching my injured body to move again.
"No," I replied.
"I've learned the difference between kindness and permission."
I ended the call and sat by the window until the sun dropped below the roofs.
That evening, Mara came to visit.
She brought soup in a plain glass container and did not ask whether I wanted company.
Copper accepted her with the solemn enthusiasm he reserved for people who smelled like food.
We sat at my kitchen table while the soup cooled.
I told her about Loretta's call.
"I spent so many years wishing she would choose me," I admitted.
"Every time she had a chance, she chose the easier story."
Mara looked at the old photograph of Vernon beside my desk.
"Maybe the hardest part is realizing you were never asking for too much."
I felt tears rise but did not hide them.
Mara stayed until the dishes were washed and Copper had settled for the night.
The following morning, Maya arranged a meeting with Loretta and advised her to obtain independent legal counsel.
My mother arrived two days later with an attorney of her own and a folder that had been hidden in her linen closet.
Inside were copies of the real 2013 deed, a letter from Grandpa Vernon, and several messages Gerald had sent concerning the development advance.
One message warned Loretta not to contact me until the financing was secure.
Another instructed her to deliver the document packet to Nolan after Gerald supplied the signature page.
Loretta admitted she had seen that page already completed.
She denied writing my name or creating the false notarization.
Her lawyer emphasized that her account would need to be examined alongside other evidence.
Maya treated the meeting formally and asked direct, careful questions.
"Why did you sign a complaint stating your daughter abandoned the property?"
Loretta stared at her hands.
"Gerald said it was the only way to protect us from losing everything."
"Did you know Harriet paid the taxes?"
"Yes."
"Did you know Vernon conveyed the property to her?"
"Yes."
"Then did you know those statements in the complaint were untrue?"
Loretta swallowed.
"I knew they weren't accurate."
For a moment, no one spoke.
My mother began to cry again.
She said Gerald had treated the development advance like a rescue, promising to repair the family business once the land deal closed.
He insisted that I would eventually agree because I was financially secure and had no children.
"He said you didn't need the house," she whispered.
I thought of the way Grandpa's hand rested on my shoulder in the torn photograph.
"Need had nothing to do with whether it belonged to me," I said.
Loretta looked up sharply.
"You sound just like him."
For the first time, her words felt like a compliment rather than an accusation.
Maya asked whether Gerald had made threats if she refused to cooperate.
Loretta described years of angry outbursts and financial pressure but said he had not physically forced her to sign.
Her lawyer advised that she should not speculate about criminal responsibility.
She agreed to produce relevant documents through appropriate legal procedures and to answer truthful questions under oath.
I could see how costly that decision felt to her.
It did not erase what she had already done.
Maya prepared to depose both my parents and Nolan Price.
The disputed title documents would be examined by a handwriting specialist, and the notary records would be authenticated.
We also obtained a statement from Nathan documenting years of caretaker visits.
The evidence was becoming detailed enough that Gerald could no longer dismiss it as a daughter's emotional reaction.
That night, I received a certified letter from the development company's counsel.
The company stated that it had relied on the apparent deed but was now reviewing the transaction because of the title dispute.
Its representatives wanted access to records establishing who had authorized the transfer.
A separate letter from the lender said no additional funds would be advanced while ownership remained contested.
The financial structure that had made Gerald confident was unraveling.
But the documents also revealed an uncomfortable truth.
If the advance had been spent, the people who provided it might pursue him regardless of what happened to the farmhouse.
The next afternoon, Gerald called me from a number I did not recognize.
I answered before seeing the name of the caller on my phone screen.
"You turned your mother against me," he said.
"She made her own choices," I replied.
"You think you can stand up in uniform and ruin my reputation?"
"This isn't about my uniform."
He laughed bitterly.
"Your grandfather never should have encouraged you."
I looked toward the photograph on the desk.
"He encouraged me to tell the truth."
Gerald went silent.
Then he said something I had not expected.
May you like
"There are other documents you haven't seen."
Before I could ask what he meant, the line went dead.
