Better Things ✓

Chapter 41: lawyers

I looked down at what I was wearing. My shaky hands ran over the green dress I was wearing. It shaped to my body and curved out at the end. It looked classy but nice.

Once I was prepared, I pushed the glass doors open. My heals clicked against the tile floors as I approached the woman behind the receptionist desk.

She was middle age with blonde hair a polite but fake look plastered on her face.

"Excuse me, ma'am. My name is Delaney Taylor. I believe that I have an appointment with Mr. Matthews at 9:00." I spoke to her. She didn't even spare me a glance. Instead she looked at her computer with an annoyed look on her face.

"Third floor, last door on the right"

She pointed her manicured finger towards the elevators.

I made my way over, trying to resist the urge to roll my eyes at her friendliness.

I pressed the up button and stepped backwards, waiting.

Once I heard the ding, I stepped into the opening doors listening to the basic music as I stood stiffly. Another man got into the elevator beside me, standing stiffly in his grey suit.

I tilted my head upwards and let my eyes wander the ceiling. 

Once we reached the third floor, I basically sprinted out of the stuffy box of awkwardness.

I found the door at the end of the hallway that read 'Matthews' on the sign. I raised my fist and knocked, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"Come in," I heard a strong voice boom from the other side of the wood door.

I turned the doorknob and gently pushed the door open, stepping inside quickly.

I made my way across the room and took a seat across from the big, professional-looking desk.

I crossed my legs over each other, held my hands in my lap, and looked over at the man sitting behind the desk.

He hand his hands clasped together on top of the desk. His suit was sharp and stern looking, but his face held a compassion that seemed unlike someone from this profession to have.  He wore a gentle, warm smile with wrinkles adoring his aged face. He appeared to be in his late forties or older.

"Hello, Ms. Taylor. How are you?"

"I'm good, sir." I gave a small nod to hide my nerves.

"Please, call me Dan. I was close with your dad before he passed. Well, I was his lawyer, too." He wore a fond smile as he spoke about my dad.

"May I ask what this was about, Dan? My fathers been dead for years." I spoke softly, trying to hold back my emotions.

"Well, your father left a Will before he died. It was written to pass everything he had to you. Now that your 18, you can gain access to his assets."

I was shocked. I had always assumed he didn't have anything left. We never seemed rich, and we had a house on the Army base.

"W-what did he leave me?"

"Well, Delaney. He had $3 million left in accounts passed to him from his parents, combined with the pay he accumulated over his years in the Army. He also left you his house on the base. You would need to get authorization to live in it, or you could sell it back," he explained, leaving me shell-shocked. I sat with my mouth hanging open at the information that had been dropped in my lap.

"Uh- huh?" I stuttered out, not knowing how to respond.

He chuckled at my expression. Then, he passed me what looked like a book, open to a letter

"He also left this for you. He loved you so much, Delaney. You were his whole world. His days started and ended with his little girl. Every time he was with me, you were the sunshine that overtook his every problem. You were all he talked about. In the aftermath of the destruction that was his marriage, he was always talking about the blessing he got from it. He wanted you to know how much you meant to him."

I had tears down my face—for the millionth time. I gently grasped the letter, and stood gracefully by the side of his desk.

He came around the back and embraced me in a friendly, fatherly hug.

I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders, savoring the moment of my fathers memory.

"I had the funds transferred into an account in your name, here's the card. And the house statements." He passed me a manila folder filled with papers and files.

I held them all gently with my arms wrapped against my chest.

"Thank you," I breathed out, making my way back outside his office. Before I closed the door I heard him call back to me.

"Take care of yourself, Delaney."

••••••••••••

I passed through rows of graves. They all looked the same, with their flags and stones in lines identical to the next.

When I reached my destination, I crouched down, crossing my legs and taking a seat on the dirt beside the stone.

'Sargent James Taylor
Beloved Father and friend'

I traced my finger gently across the words imprinted in the headstone, allowing the tears to fall onto the dirt below me.

"Hi Daddy," I started.

"I miss you so much. I wish you could be here with me. To let me know I'm not making a mistake with my life. To hold my hand when I lost my baby. To tell me I'll be okay. To walk me down the isle when I marry Xavier. You'd love him—he reminds me of you," I let out a small laugh through the waves of grief crashing down around me.

"I hope you're watching my baby up there–taking care of them. I hope you're watching out for me too–that you're proud of me. I try to make you proud. I love you so much."

By the end I was sobbing so much that my words were murky and smeared together.

I sniffled, trying to get my act together.

I sat by my dad's grave for hours, just letting out everything I felt.

It brought me comfort to be close to him, even though he wasn't there in person.

The comfort a parent's love gave wasn't tangible or replaceable by any measure.

The years I had with my father were ones I would always keep close to my heart.

So, as I sat by the stone laid out for him, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Just talking to him made me feel better.