The Bequest Ch. 01

This story is slow to start. Hang in there. Or, not. But, just a word of warning about the pace.
All characters are over 18.

I'd found The Bequest in my Dad's safe shortly after his death.

Dad died in his mid-sixties. We had not had a lot of contact for most of my adult life. Dad, like many of his contemporaries, couldn't manage the whole monogamy thing. Well, to be frank, many folks – his age, gender, and class or otherwise- had the same problem. Sometimes it's tricky to stay married to the same person. In his case, he divorced my Mom when I was a young teen, and though we kept a type of relationship for a few years, eventually I decided that it was too tough to keep up. He probably tried his best, but he was often a disappointment as a father. Still, in recent years, I'd come to forgive him, if not always to respect him.

His death hit me harder than I had expected. Sure, I'm over 40 now, but that doesn't mean that the loss of a father hurts any less. And, in our case, the long troubled relationship made it tougher. But here I was, the only son of this man I barely knew.

After his death, Dad's current girlfriend called and said that while his will had been specific about the house going to her – in the end, he did look after his attachments financially – there had been a bequest which she was charged with executing. The contents of his safe were to go to me, and only me.

I'd been to the funeral, sure, but I hadn't realized that there was anything special to the will. Dad had left me a small amount of money and the rest of his possessions went to Jessica, the current flame.

I figured that the Old Man must have kept mementos of my childhood or maybe of his marriage to my Mom, that he thought would be appropriate for me. So, one Saturday afternoon about a month after his passing, I showed up at what was now Jessica's home. She heard me pulling up on the gravel driveway – Dad was never wealthy, and certainly preferred the isolated rural over the crowded urban – and met me as I got out of my car.

For once, Dad had chosen a reasonable mate, I had to agree. Jessica was just barely 60 and seemed to have her head on straight. She was physically fit and financially secure. Attractive and amusing. Her spiky red hair was always just so, but she was always charming and relaxed with me. Most times that I had seen Dad in the last few years, Jess was the saving grace against awkward silences.

"Oh, Mike – So, good to see you" she sang out as she scooped me up in a hug.

"Good to see you, too, Jess. You're looking great as always."

"You know me, just trying to fight off the inevitable... which seems all the more important lately, of course." She said, as she stepped back and directed me towards the house. "Did you bring a bag? Can you stay for a bit?"

"I hadn't planned to Jess. You know, it's still a little awkward for me. Not with you of course, but it's been a bit of a jar losing Dad."

"Oh, honey, I know. I don't mean to push. I just want you to feel welcome here. This is your house as much as mine." Jessica opened the front door and held it for me as I stepped into the living room.

"Have a seat, dear. I'll get us a couple of cold drinks. I just got back from the morning tennis and I'm a bit beat."

Jessica stepped into the kitchen, as I took a seat in a comfortable upholstered chair. The drive had been a bit longer than was pleasant, but I didn't want to seem anxious about my errand. Jessica stepped back in carrying two bottles of root beer – never one for the ostentatious, was Jessica. I took one and thanked her for the thoughtfulness.

"Now listen, honey" she said with a characteristic Southern candor. "I know things weren't perfect with your father. Lord knows, they weren't perfect between him and me, either. Still, he was a decent sort in the end, and I loved him. I think you did, too, despite everything."

"I think you're right, Jess. And that is why it hurts now. Seems a shame to have wasted all those years, but it wasn't easy to love Dad."

"Truer words, dear... truer words. But, here's the thing. I'm not your Mom. I'm not even your Step-Mom. I'm just a friend, I hope."

"Of course, you're a friend Jess. You know that." We drank our root beer silently for a few minutes.

"Well, at any rate, I'm a friend, and I want you to know a couple of things. First off, this is your place as much as mine. You're father left it to me in the will, but my will leaves it, the property it sits on, and whatever little all I have, to you. Now, hush," she shushed as I started to protest. "I don't have any kids of my own, and though I'm glad to have the benefits of your dad's will, I'm not planning to do much with it except pass it on to you when I move along – which, God willing, will be when I'm 175 or so." Her good natured grin was infectious and I chuckled along with her.

"So, that out of the way, there was a bequest that your dad left for you which wasn't in the lawyer's version of the will. Your dad wanted you to have a few personal items and didn't really want them to leave the house. So, he left me a note with the will, that spelled out how I should proceed."

Jessica lifted an envelope off the coffee table and handed to me. It was plain white, sealed, and only had "Michael" written across the front. I took the envelope and finished my root beer as I replaced it on the coffee table.

"Now, I don't know exactly what's in there, honey, but I can tell you that your dad made me promise to pass it along as soon as I could, and that you were the only one to open it."

Strange. I mean, it was just a simple white business envelope. Why all the hubbub? I ripped it open and removed the single sheet of printer paper. Blank printer paper. Hmmm.

I held it up and turned it over. Nothing. Then, I remembered. Dad very rarely called me Michael. I was always Mike or Mikey or on rare occasion Mick. Michael was what he called me when he wanted me to pay close attention to something... following distance on the highway for example, or when he was teaching me to play poker and I kept drawing to an inside straight. "Michael" meant that there was more than met the eye here.

"Ahh" I said.

"What, honey? Looks like the old fart forgot to put the right piece of paper in the envelope. Probably left the other one sitting on the printer or something."

"Nope, Jess. I'm afraid it's his little attempt at playfulness. When I was a kid we would pass notes from time to time. You know, codes and hidden inks. That sort of thing. Dad had a thing for the Bond films and I thought it was a nice Father-Son bonding thing. My guess is – lemon juice."

"Huh?"

"You know, lemon juice. Write the message in lemon juice and let it dry. It's invisible. Heat it up and suddenly the writing reappears. That sort of thing."

"Well, help yourself to the oven, dear."

"Oh no need for that Jess. Actually, this lamp will be warm enough to do the trick."

I stood up and held the blank piece of paper over the light bulb in the tableside lamp. As I had guessed, the lettering slowly made itself visible.

Well, Mike, I guess this means I'm gone. Sorry about that. It's a terrible habit of mine, but I guess this one is probably not as much my fault as earlier escapes. It's a bit more permanent, though, and for that I'm sorry.

Jess has probably told you that in addition to what I've left you in the will, I've included a few items just for you in the safe. Most of them are simple memorabilia. Nothing fancy. One is special. You'll know it when you see it. I hope you'll understand me better and forgive me more easily as the years pass. The safe code is between us. Try not to jimmy the lock. My word is...

As to what I'd like you to hear from me...

Learn to trust. Let yourself love. Try not to hurt people in the way that I have. I recommend at least 90% honesty and 100% kindness.

I suppose that's all the advice that an old man can give his dearest son.

Truly all my love,

Dad

I'm afraid there were a few extra blots on the paper. The silly old fuck. Why'd he go and make me cry. I hate that.

Wiping my eyes with a tissue that Jess handed to me, I looked up and said, "Well, let's get to this. I should probably see what's in the safe."

Jess put one arm around my waist and led me into the master bedroom. Apparently Dad had kept a small safe in the closet. Nothing fancy. Certainly wouldn't stop a burglar from just picking up the whole thing and walking out, but I suppose it was fireproof. There was a simple digital keypad on the front.

"Honey, I thought he'd put the keycode in your letter. I'm afraid I don't have the foggiest what he'd use." Jessica said, as she comfortingly stroked my shoulder. "He was weird about passwords. Never used the same one twice."

"Sokay, Jess. This one will be easy, actually." I reached up and tapped in the three digit code that I guessed would do the trick. Sure enough, it clicked right open. I smiled and felt a bit better.

"Huh. How'd you guess it? Your birthday?"

"Nope. I just jimmied the word. Bond, James Bond." I paused to give her a second to figure it out.

"Ahhhh, 007. Silly boy. Well, silly boys it seems. So I guess it works out for you, then. Should I start making up the martinis?"

I chuckled, "actually that doesn't sound half bad. Shaken. Not stirred."

Jess grinned, and bobbed a faux curtsy. She headed out the bedroom door and presumably went to the kitchen to increase my blood alcohol content. Thank goodness.

I pulled open the safe door and removed the large manilla envelope inside. It was addressed to me – as Mike, this time – and when I opened it up there seemed to be just a few bits inside. Photos from my childhood. A graduation certificate from sixth grade. My goodness, why would he keep that. A tooth in a little velvet box – presumably my first tooth. Kinda weird, but kinda sweet. Oh, and there's a Father's Day card I sent to him when I'd just learned to spell my name. Nice. And, then... well, it was his ring. It was a simple silver band. It wasn't his wedding ring... any of them... but I do remember him wearing it when I was a kid. Not later on, honestly. I remember it from when I was maybe 6 or 7. It struck me as strange, since he was already wearing a gold ring on his left hand. The silver ring on his right seemed somehow out of place. I guess I even asked him about it once and he told me that I would have it one day. I guess he kept that promise. Well, whaddyaknow?

I picked up the ring and slipped it onto my right hand. My relationships had never really lasted long enough to get to the ring stage, I guess. I had loved, sure. But I had never truly trusted. My father's longer term legacy I guess. But, here, he had remembered a silly promise to a tiny kid. That was remarkably sweet. The ring seemed gigantic on my finger. I twirled it around on my finger and looked at it in the light.

"Well, I haven't seen that in years." Jessica entered with two martini glasses. No olives, but a lemon twist. Nice. She extended one to me and I reached out for it with my left hand, closing my fingers so that the ring didn't slip off my right.

"Me neither. He promised it to me as a kid. It's nice that he remembered."

"Well, he hasn't worn it around here for... oh, ages. I guess he wore it the first year we were together or so. I kind of made fun of him, I have to admit, for wearing jewelry. I mean, it never really bothered me, but you don't see a lot of men wearing rings if they aren't married." We sipped our martinis. Nice. Just enough vermouth. And a nice vodka. Nothing flavored, or silly. A real drink. I'd always liked Jessica. I was glad that she'd been with Dad in his final years.

"So, let's see ... do you mind if I see what he saved for you? I'd understand if it's private."

"Not at all. I was going to show it to you anyway."

"Thank you, hon." She said, as she tossed the photos across to the other side of the bed and then sat her glass down on the bedside table. She crawled onto the bed and laid down on her stomach as she spread the photos out in front of her. A king sized bed made for a decent table, I supposed. Stretched out as she was I took notice of what Jess was wearing, really for the first time. She kept her hair short, red, and spiky. She was tanned in a way that looked warm and glowing rather than leathery. She was wearing a red, I think they call them, cami top under a thin white blouse that was worn open like a jacket. And she was wearing a pair of white Capri pants. They were a bit tight on her, I noticed, and really accentuated the shape of her ass. And it was a nice ass, at that. Round, firm... and why in the world am I noticing her ass? I mean, yeah, she's an attractive woman and all, but this isn't the time, the place, or the person for me to notice that sort of thing. I've dated a lot of women in my time, but I've never really thought of Jess as anything other than my Old Man's girlfriend. Still... it was a nice behind. Suddenly, it seemed to be getting warm in here... Was it really warming up in here? Maybe I shouldn't have had that drink.

Jessica squirmed a little and pointed to one of the photos, "Weren't you the cutest? What was that... maybe 3rd grade? You played soccer? How sweet."

"Yeah. I was terrible, but everyone was, of course. At that age it's just about showing up and the pizza party afterwards. Actually, come to think of it I could describe my college years the same way."

Jessica chuckled a bit and then shrugged out of the blouse top she was wearing over her cami. "Is it warm in here, hon?"

"I was just going to ask you that. Seemed a bit warm to me, too."

"Oh, and look at this one. This is darling. You must have hated that suit. Look at that tie. And that look on your face." She ran a finger over the truly awful tie that my parents had put me in at age 8 for some portrait day with a photographer.

"Yeah, I admit it" I laughed. "That suit was much hated. And soon destroyed in a terrible 'accident."

"Oh, I bet, dear. I'd want to get out of that thing too. Speaking of which, when was this one taken?" She pointed to a photo taken my sophomore year of college. It was on one of the few reconciliation trips I took with the Old Man. It was a lake cabin visit. We'd ended up screaming at each other as I recall. I stormed out of there. But for the first day it was actually kind of fun. The picture was of me jumping into the lake with my friend Johnny. We were running off the end of the pier and Dad had caught us in mid-leap into the lake. Great view of the lake. A few small waves. A warm day in the sun. A good memory. Unfortunately, the photo featured a slightly blurry and distant view of my hairy, white ass. Johnny and I had just stripped out of our gear and "Last one in"-ed ourselves toward the lake. Dad must have had a camera handy. Didn't know he had kept that one. Still, it was a carefree, fun time. Of course, I hadn't imagined I'd be looking at it with Jess, later.

"Oh that was in college, I think."

I finished my martini and sat the glass down next to Jessica's as she picked up the lake photo. I felt the strangest sensation. I felt a stirring. I hate to admit it, but it was akin to that first flush of arousal. I should be sad to see these old photos in my father's house. And I should certainly not be feeling that stirring deep inside that says my body knows something that I don't know. But then I realized that it wasn't a typical stirring. It was like the echo of arousal. I could sense the excitement without feeling it deeply. It was as if I was hearing singing from another room. It was a song I knew, metaphorically speaking, but I wasn't singing it. I was hearing it.

"Mikey, dear, you sure were a handsome kid. I bet you had the girls beating down your door."

I felt the echo grow louder. The stirring was stronger. And then I felt the ring on my right hand warm up and quickly contract. I jumped slightly at the strange sensation, but tried not to worry Jess. I mean, that was so strange. I'm feeling sensations that I can't identify and now my ring is changing size? Really? C'mon.

"Well, I'm not sure that's the best photo to judge by Jess." And then... I'm not sure why... My flirty side struck out on its own. "Of course, I always liked my girlfriends a bit older. They just seemed to... get me... a bit more."

"Really?" Jess replied and then looked over her shoulder at me. The echo of emotion. That feeling that wasn't mine but was very familiar began to rise in intensity. I could feel that sense of desire escalate. And, it became clear that I was feeling that sense from Jessica. Something about this ring, then? This was the real bequest from my Dad. The ring could read the sense of desire in a person? How odd. And now, I was all too aware that Jess was aroused by me – at least in part based on that photo – an attention that was stronger and more personal than I would have guessed.

"Yeah, Jessica. I suppose I just like to know that the women I'm with know what they want."

Jessica rolled over on her back and stared at me while propped up on her elbows. Her breasts seemed to strain against the fabric of that cami. Were those her nipples? Were her nipples hard? Damn, yes, they were. And more so by the second. It really did seem to be getting warmer in here. I think I was blushing.

"Uh... well, Jess, I guess I'll toss those in the car and head back."

"Excuse me?" she said, eyes darting toward her chest.

Laughing I said, "The photos you dirty old cougar, you."

"Oh, those. Fine." Jessica gathered up the photos and slid them back into the envelope.

"Well, I'm glad that your dad left you something that would mean something to you. He did miss you, you know."

"I know. I missed him, too."

"Hey, Mikey. Have you been out to the South Pond recently?" Dad's ... now Jessica's... property had 3 significant ponds. The East Pond was closest to the house and the South Pond furthest away. The property itself was about 230 acres so the South Pond was a long walk or a short drive.

"Not recently, why?"

"Well, your dad and I did some work out that way. We've cleared out a lot of brush, opened up some space, cleared the pond itself, and really created a nice spot out there. You should come take a look. Who knows when you'll get back out here again?"

We walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Leaning against the cabinetry, I tossed the envelope onto the counter.

"Sure, why not? I'm not in a big rush, anyway. Don't have to be at work til Monday and it'll be nice to see the old place."

"And you can catch up with the old dame, too, hon. I'm not bad company, you know."

I reached out and scooped Jessica up into a big bear hug.

"I know it Jess. I know it. Thanks so much for making me feel at home."

It was a good hug. A friendly hug. Then I felt the ring tingle against my finger and realized that my right hand (and thus the ring) was touching Jessica's bare upper arm.

"Anytime, Mike. You know, you're family. Now, I'm going to put a few things together for a picnic basket." She paused for moment remembering something, "You still doing the photography thing?"

"Sure, nothing fancy, but I do still like to snap a few pictures."

"Well," she said as bread and cheese and wine seemed to appear from nowhere... though, of course, I think the pantry might actually be to blame. "The old place is nice back there, and I think you'll like some of the additions. Might be worth taking the camera."

"I'll grab it. Are we walking or driving?"

"We'll take the 4-wheeler, dear. Faster than a walk and a bit more fun than the truck. If you're up for it."

"Sure thing."

I turned, grabbed the photos off the counter, and said lightly, "You should let me take some photos of you out there as well. You're quite the model, you know."