No Need to Talk, Pt. 01: Andrew

"Damn," Bill sighed when I finished. "That doesn't give you much time to take care of things, does it?"

"No, not much. I'm going to start getting my affairs wrapped up tomorrow. I plan to see my insurance agent to change the beneficiaries on my policy. I'd like to name you along with Olivia if that's okay. Robert is taking care of my will," I told my brother.

"Yeah, that's okay with me," Bill said. "What about the house?"

"I'm giving that to you and Lisa," I said. "Maybe you can use it as an investment property or a rental."

"Are you sure?" Lisa asked with shock on her face. "That's a big house. And what about Anne and Olivia? Where will they go?"

"Anne made it clear in her divorce petition that she didn't want it. Frankly, I don't give a damn about Anne anymore, so I don't care where she goes. From what Robert told me, it's possible she could end up in jail anyway."

"But what about Olivia?" Lisa asked.

"If there's any way possible, I'd like it if the two of you could take her in. Robert said he could help with the paperwork," I told Lisa.

"Of course, we'd love to," Bill said. We had discussed this before - what would happen to the children if any of us died? It helped that Olivia and Marie got along famously.

"Thanks, that takes a real load off my mind. I'll let Robert know. Of course, it all depends on what happens when Anne gets back from Cancun or wherever it is she's gone off to."

We talked for another hour before Bill addressed the elephant in the room.

"How long do you have before..."

"Doc says I may have two or three weeks before I deteriorate to the point where I'll need palliative care," I said. I pulled a business card out of my wallet and handed it to my brother. "Which will probably include heavy-duty sedation. He's already making arrangements."

"Belleview Palliative Care Unit," Bill said as he read the card.

"I've heard good things about them," Mom said quietly.

"Isn't that like a hospice?" Lisa asked.

"It can include end-of-life care, but that's not all," Mom said sadly. "I looked into them when your dad collapsed, but he passed too quickly." She sighed at the memories. "They do a lot more than a hospice does. Your doctor chose well. Still, I don't like the idea of you being in that big house all by yourself until then."

"Neither do I," Bill said. "Why don't you grab a few things and stay here with us? We have a guest room with its own bathroom you can use. And Marie would love to have you here with us."

"We'd all love to have you here with us," Lisa told me firmly. I had to smile. Their tone made clear that 'no' wasn't an option.

"And I'll be more than happy to come look after you during the day," Mom added.

"I don't want to impose on you guys like that," I said.

"You're my brother. It's no imposition," Bill declared. "And Mom's right. You shouldn't be by yourself, especially with everything going on."

I thought about the offer for a few moments before agreeing. They were right. I felt so... blessed... to have a family who cared for me and stepped up when the chips were down. Except for my wife, the one person who actually vowed to stand by me in sickness and in health. And something about 'Forsaking all others' was there too, I grumbled to myself. Then I shook my head. Not productive.

With a tear in my eye, I accepted Bill's offer. "Thank you. You have no idea what that means to me."

We gathered for a group hug, and I couldn't help it. I broke down crying, harder than when my dad died. We all cried for some time. Strangely enough, I felt better when we broke the hug and settled down.

"Why don't you go back to your house and grab a few things," Bill finally said. "We'll get your room ready while you're gone."

"You're on," I said. "I'll head on over and be back before you know it." It didn't take long for me to grab what I needed from the house - a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. Bill's guest room was ready by the time I returned.

As I lay in bed that night, I thought about Anne, and Michael, and what they had done to me. My rage began to build as I pondered their treacherous actions. For a moment, I found myself contemplating murder and even considered hiring a hitman to take the cheaters out so Olivia wouldn't have to be exposed to them. I dismissed that idea, though, not wanting to cause Olivia any more pain than necessary.

I considered hiring an escort to take care of my sexual needs. After all, it had been a while since Anne and I had done anything thanks to the never-ending headaches and bouts of nausea that prevented me from doing very much. But, I reasoned, that would make me no better than her in the fidelity department, and I DID take a vow to forsake all others. Besides, I thought, two wrongs don't make a right, and even if they did, there was no guarantee I could perform anyway.

Then I had the crazy idea of hiring an escort to seduce Michael. I could hire someone to take pictures of them in the act, then send the photos to Anne to destroy their relationship. But for all I knew, she might not care what Michael does. Only that she has access to his money and social status.

The last idea I had before nodding off was starting a publicity campaign. I could hire a writer to do a story about a wife leaving her terminally ill husband to have an affair. She would come back to a very hostile reception, I thought. That seemed the most likely to work, so I made a mental note to run it by Robert. The last thing I needed was to have Anne sue my estate, possibly ruining Olivia's future.

"All I want is a little justice," I thought. "Is that too damn much to ask?" That night, I dreamt of a cowboy on an impossibly huge black horse and a petite blonde woman. I didn't recall much of the dream, but something the cowboy said stuck with me: "Justice is ridin' with ya, son. Never forget."

The next few days were quite busy as I wrapped up my earthly affairs - bad pun under the circumstances, but fitting. I planned for my funeral and burial plot with the same company that handled Dad's funeral. The cost was unbelievable, even for the most basic arrangements. But I walked away, feeling better that my family wouldn't have to worry about anything.

I imagine that if someone were planning for a "far future" event, it would be sobering. I was a bit numb by now. Resigned, maybe? Now it was just like conducting a business deal, installing a new PC, getting a software download, or arranging a trash pickup.

My financial planner was shocked when I told him what was happening but agreed to liquidate my portfolio and place everything in a trust. I gave him Robert's card so they could coordinate their efforts.

From there, I visited my insurance agent and had him change the beneficiaries on my life insurance policy. He was sympathetic when I explained my diagnosis and the change in my family situation.

The hardest part was informing my loyal employees about my situation. They had stepped up to handle things in my absence and were stunned when I explained everything. It seems I had trained them better than I originally thought. There were a lot of tears by the time I finished. They seemed to feel better, though, when I told them of my conditions for selling to Empire.

"In the meantime, Jack, you're in charge," I told Jack Hamilton, my top supervisor.

"I'll make you proud, boss," he replied as we shook hands.

"You've already done that," I said. "All of you have."

I spent the rest of that morning going over the final details with Jack and the office staff, then went to the bank to make sure everything was handled with all my accounts. That evening, I went to see George and Lydia Simpson, Anne's parents. I activated the video record feature on my phone before knocking on their door.

"Good evening, Andrew," George said when he answered the door. "What can we do for you?" he asked after inviting me inside.

"I'm here to talk to you about Anne and Olivia," I said. "Is Lydia at home? I'd like to speak with you both at the same time."

George furrowed his brow before calling Lydia to the front room. I got the impression he had no idea what was going on with Anne. I felt a bit better. I had always believed him to be a fundamentally decent guy. And he had treated me well as a son-in-law. I might have an unexpected ally in this. Lydia looked nervous the instant she saw me.

"Hello Andrew," she stammered.

"Lydia," I responded gravely. George blinked at me, catching my tone.

"Uh, what can we do for you?"

"I think you know, Lydia. Where did Anne take Olivia?" I asked, pointedly.

"Yes, Lydia. Where DID Anne take Olivia?" George asked, his irritation obvious.

"I'm sorry, but she asked me not to say anything," Lydia mumbled uncertainly, her eyes darting back and forth between my stony expression and her husband's rapidly growing suspicion.

"You can either tell me now, or you can tell the police later," I hissed.

"Police?" George asked, his face registering shock.

"Yes," I told him. "Anne took Olivia away for a month to a location unknown to me without my prior knowledge or permission. Probably out of the country. Your wife had Olivia here as part of a plot to keep her from me.

"My lawyer tells me that Anne could be charged with a Class D felony, which carries a five-year prison sentence. Anyone helping her could be charged as an accessory, which carries a two-year prison sentence."

"Oh my God," George gasped. "What the Hell is going on, Andrew?"

"What's going on is that Anne has taken up with her boss, Michael Simpson. The two of them decided to go on a month-long vacation, taking Olivia with them so I would have no contact with her. She filed for a divorce, but it's not going to happen."

"My daughter? That stupid, impulsive bitch," George growled. Then he shot me a piercing look. "Why won't the divorce happen?"

"Because you can't divorce a dead man," I told him flatly. "She'll be an all-nice-and-legal widow, probably before she gets back."

"What?" George asked, shocked. Lydia's eyes grew wide as she put her hands to her face.

"I'm dying. I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. There's a chance I'll be dead by the time Anne returns. Which means I'll never get a chance to say goodbye to Olivia properly. Thanks in part to your wife," I said, glaring angrily at Lydia.

"Did you tell Anne?" George asked, aghast.

"I told her I was dying, but never got a chance to explain. She just brushed me off and said I would survive and then flounced out. So, Lydia. Where is she? And how long have you known about Anne's affair with Michael Simpson?" I asked.

"I've known for a while," Lydia stammered. "She brought him to the house a few months ago and introduced him to me while George was at work. Anne said he was rich, powerful, and well-connected. Not a... computer repairman like you, Andrew."

"And you bought that pile of shit?" George exclaimed, fuming. For a moment, I thought I saw actual steam coming out of his ears. "Andrew is the most honest, hard-working man I've ever met. He started that company of his on a shoestring and built it up with his own two hands. He built himself up just the way I did. WE did. Something to be proud of, not trashed. How many employees do you have working for you now, Andrew?"

"I have ten employees and was looking to hire a couple more before all this happened," I said, then I turned to my mother-in-law and she visibly cringed.

"Where did she go, Lydia? Where did she take my daughter?" I demanded.

"She mentioned something about... Cancun," Lydia replied reluctantly. She wasn't meeting either of our eyes and I couldn't tell if she was actually contrite, just wanted to limit the legal damage, or was acutely aware that her own comfortable married position could be hanging by a pretty ragged thread.

"My God, woman! What the Hell have you done?" George asked, veins popping out in anger. "You let Anne take that child out of the country without telling Andrew? The same day he learns he's dying? What the Hell is wrong with you?"

"Anne told me you said you were dying, but she thought you were just being melodramatic about her leaving you for Michael," Lydia explained. "Maybe I should call her and tell her about your diagnosis so she can bring Olivia back," she added hurriedly.

"That won't happen," I said bitterly. "Anne left her phone here so no one could contact her."

She looked stricken. "I forgot. She told me she would do that. Said she didn't want you tracking her, or trying to contact her or Olivia," Lydia said sheepishly.

"And you have no way at all to reach her?" George asked incredulously.

"No, I don't. And she didn't leave her itinerary."

"Fucking terrific," George hissed. "And what happens if there's an emergency? I have a heart attack? You have an accident? The house burns down?"

"I... I don't know," Lydia stammered.

"Fuck," George spit as he shook his head in frustration. "I'm really sorry, Andrew. For everything. I thought I raised Anne better than this. What are you going to do now?"

"It's already being done, George," I told him. "Believe it or not, I've already come to terms with it. A part of me would rather be dead than without Olivia anyway."

"For what it's worth, Andrew, I've always thought of you as the son I never had. I'm proud of you. If there's anything I can do..."

"Thank you, George. I appreciate that," I said as we shook hands.

"And you... wife. We need to talk," George growled as he looked back at Lydia, who now looked like the candidate for the heart attack.

"I'd better go now. There's a good chance the authorities will want to talk with you anyway, Lydia. Maybe if you cooperate with them, they'll go easy on you," I said, wearily relenting a little bit. My head was really pounding. "Goodbye."

"Wait, Andrew," Lydia called as I walked toward the door. I stopped and turned to face her. She hugged me with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have said something to you earlier. I just thought... Well, I don't really know what I was thinking. Can you forgive me? Please?"

"I'll think about it, Lydia. For George's and Olivia's sake, anyway. Cooperate with the authorities when they talk to you, okay?"

"I will, Andrew," Lydia said as tears fell down her cheek. We hugged one last time, then I left and returned to Bill's house. I called Robert when I arrived and told him what happened.

"And you recorded it?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Good. That will make things easier. Sally's worked straight through and got everything ready for your approval. Can you be here tomorrow morning at 9:00?"

"I can do that."

"Excellent. Ed has some updates as well. I'll have him drop by and we can go over everything."

"I can't wait to hear that," I said. We ended the call, and I collapsed into one of Bill's recliners, closing my eyes in a vain effort to block out the never-ending pain in my head.

...

I walked into Robert's office the following morning after a poor night's sleep and saw that Ed had already arrived. After the obligatory greeting and cup of coffee, Robert turned to Ed.

"What did you find out?" Robert asked.

"Quite a lot, actually," Ed began, referring to a lengthy report. "We confirmed that Michael and Anne did go to Cancun. My people are watching their every move, by the way. We were also able to get into Anne's phone, and it provided a treasure trove of information. We're still going through everything - there's a lot to sort through."

"From what we could tell from their text messages and private emails, the affair has been going on for around nine months. They started planning this little vacation trip six months ago. I've been told they're staying at the Hilton Cancun Resort.

"My gut tells me this is more than just a pleasure trip, though," Ed concluded.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" Robert asked.

"For starters, they took a private jet registered to a company in Colombia. We're still looking into that. After dropping Michael and Anne off in Cancun, the jet flew to the Caymans, then Jamaica, before arriving in Medellin. I made some calls and learned the jet is slated to return to Cancun in a few days. We don't know any more than that."

"What about Olivia? Is she safe?" I asked anxiously.

"She seems to be enjoying herself, but a report I received this morning from one of my contacts there said Anne and Michael left your daughter in their room while they went clubbing last night," Ed replied.

"What the hell is wrong with those two?" I exploded. "How could they leave an eight-year-old girl by herself while they party?"

"Good question," Robert said. "It looks like we may have to get Child Protective Services involved. Did your people get photos?" he asked Ed.

"Yes, they did. And they saw nothing to indicate that a babysitter had been provided. We'll stay on top of that." He looked and me and nodded reassuringly. "Both guys on surveillance have little daughters. They will NOT let anything bad happen to her."

I bit my lip and nodded back.

"Please do," Robert said. "I can't help but wonder if this will become a habit with her."

"Could be. At any rate, here is my report so far. There are pictures and some audio. Video is on the way. We'll stay on top of it and update you when we have more information," Ed said. He pulled Anne's phone from his pocket and handed it to me. "We cloned her phone, so we don't need this anymore."

"Thanks," I said, pocketing her phone.

"Unless you have anything more for me, I'd better get back to it," Ed told us. We said our goodbyes and watched as he left.

"I spoke with a state attorney, and she's itching to take this case. This will give her more ammunition, but I'm not certain she'll be able to use it in court given how it was obtained," Robert said.

"If I'm paying for the phone?" He looked at me and I shrugged. "We had a joint account that we both contributed to which covered all the monthly bills, though I was putting in about three dollars for every one Anne put in. That includes the phone and media bills."

Robert looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. "That might change things a bit. I'll run it by the state attorney."

"I was also thinking about getting someone to write my story," I said. "What do you think?"

"You want the world to remember Anne as the woman who left her dying husband while refusing to let him say goodbye to his beloved daughter," Robert said, shrewdly. "Am I right?"

"Why not?" I asked.

"Why not, indeed? I know a few good writers over at the local paper who are known for their discretion and honesty. I can reach out to them and see if they might be interested. We wouldn't want it to go live before she returns, though. It could tip her off."

"I can live with that," I replied with a sigh.

"All right. I'll do it. C'mon, let's go through these forms and get everything finalized so I can file them," Robert said.

We spent the next two hours poring over the paperwork. I was satisfied with everything Robert and his team had done and signed my life away... literally. I tried not to think about it and concentrated on not letting my hand shake. When we finished, I set the pen down and looked at the stack of papers, now neatly arranged in their folders. This is what my life had become - a stack of paper. It seemed colder and sadder than a headstone. At least my family would be protected from Anne and her sleazebag lover.

Robert sensed my state of mind and placed a reassuring arm around my shoulder. After we exchanged a manly hug, he took both my drooping shoulders in his hands.

"Everything will work out, Andrew. I know this was hard, but it had to be done. Now I want you to spend the rest of your time with your family. Let me deal with everything else."

"Thank you, Robert. You've been a great friend," I replied. We shook hands, and I settled my bill with him before leaving the office. On the way to Bill's house, I stopped at my place, tossed the now-meaningless divorce papers on the couch, and replaced Anne's phone where she left it. Looking around the dark empty house, I said a quiet goodbye, locked the door, and left.