The Will

As this story is 16 Word pages long I will tell you it is most similar to my story, 'Chased', and SemperAmare's, 'A Rich Fetish', in that it is all aftermath. This one has been independently rated at 3.5/5 pickaxe handles on the rating system that you can find via my and CreativityTakesCourage's joint profile, SemperAmare. There is no sex.

Once again, your thanks should go to the beautiful CreativityTakesCourage for improving this story with her editing skills. You can read her stories on this site and our joint stories under the username SemperAmare. When we are together, we're a killer team and I think that shows in our joint stories. You don't have to feel bad saying she is a better writer than me, I know.

To partially counteract the sour atmosphere of division that always lingers after one of the Lit elite's socially excluding, snobby little invitationals here, I offer words of encouragement to the 'not-in' crowd. If I can write stories that amuse others, anyone can. If you're a virgin, give writing a go. If you've written one or two that have been hammered by the harsh critics here, suck it in and try again. Get it right and discover the joy I did. If I'm not busy, I'm happy to look at anything for you and encourage you in any way.

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CHAPTER 1

I looked around the room at all the sad, tearful faces present. I wasn't surprised at all by their grief. My husband, Dave, had been a terrific father, successful businessman, great supporter of our community, and a loyal friend.

As a husband, I couldn't have asked for a better man. He'd done his share of the household duties willingly, fully supported my wish to be a stay-at-home mum, then, in later years, my wish to limit my out-of-house activities to church roles and volunteering. He'd been a far more attentive father to our three children, Molly, Derek, and Anne than most men, and that showed in their successful lives since leaving the nest Dave and I had made for them. Well, Molly and Derek had left. Anne, I was sure, was on the cusp.

I looked around at the miserable faces of my children. All of them looked devastated; even my normally reserved Derek. Me? I was still in shock at the suddenness of Dave's passing and struggling to accept that the man I'd loved totally for thirty-two years had gone to play golf one bright and sunny Saturday morning and had never returned.

His lifelong friend and our family solicitor, Jack, who was sitting at the head of the large oak conference table, next to his secretary, had been the one to tell me. Apparently, Dave had driven off the fourth tee then just collapsed. The results of the medical examination had yet to be made public, but, according to Jack, Dave was dead before he hit the ground. They'd performed CPR on him, but by the time the ambulance guys fitted a defibrillator to him his heart showed no shockable rhythm. He was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.

By the time Jack had managed to track me down—I had my cell phone turned off at the time—he'd gotten word to all three of our children and they were all at the hospital before me. That was only four days ago, and I think we were all a little stunned still.

Jack opened the folder in front of him, took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I thank you all for coming today for the reading of the Will of the late David Brown, husband, father, and the best friend I ever had."

Jack was obviously pretty emotional. Beneath his eyes were dark shadows and his voice sounded as if his throat was lined with gravel. That must be why his wife, Julie, was in the office that day. She was one of my friends and had been since she met Jack shortly after my wedding. Our relationship had cooled somewhat, ten or so years ago, but I still considered her a friend. I'd seen her hugging her husband in his office as I'd been led to the conference room where all the children were already seated.

In the here and now, I watched as he drew a deep breath and settled himself to become the consummate professional I knew him to be.

"I know it may seem a departure from standard practice to read the Will before the funeral, but, as I will reveal, it was Dave's express wish. I should point out, though, that this is quite unusual, and nothing can be ratified until the full period of probate has expired. Now, to business."

He then began reading the actual Will. I didn't need to listen, after all, Dave and I'd always updated our Wills together. I knew there was a list at the start of specific items Dave wanted individuals to have. Derek, our middle child and only son, was to get Dave's medals from his time in the service with the army Corp of Engineers, or 'Sappers' as Dave liked to call them. That was when he developed his love of explosives. His rock collection was to go to Molly, our eldest, etcetera.

Tuning out, I looked around at the sombre expressions on my children's faces. Molly, at just thirty, seemed to be taking it all stoically, even though she and her dad had always been close. When I'd come in the room, I'd left her alone as she was looking at the wall with a tear in her eye. I could remember her and Dave talking about those rocks many times. She'd begun a promising career in science until she'd become accidentally pregnant to her boyfriend of about a year. Luckily, he was nice guy and did the right thing and made an honest woman of her. They'd been married for five years now and seemed as happy as ever. Two beautiful grandkids for Dave and me to spoil.

Derek, at twenty-eight, followed in his father's footsteps and was an engineer by day and an army reservist in his spare time. How long that would last was debatable, though. His wife of two years was eight months pregnant with their first. With his dad as his hero, I'm sure the child will be called David if it's a boy. I'm sad that my Dave won't be around to spoil the first grandchild to share his surname. Derek was staring at Jack. I felt for him. He looked as if he'd aged five years in the four days since his father's passing. Skin sallow, eyes red-rimmed.

Anne, my baby, was officially a mistake. Dave and I had decided two children were enough but hadn't been sure enough of that to do something drastic, like getting one of us neutered. Birth control pills had always messed around with my hormones, so we'd relied on condoms. One of them must have the failed because ten years after Derek, Anne made an appearance. Dave got snipped after that.

Anne was about to start college and, like the majority of people that age, didn't know yet what she wanted to do. She'd been helping Dave in his demolition business over the summer. She still lived at home but was spending more and more time at her boyfriend's house and I knew it was only a matter of time before I had the house to myself.

That led me to thoughts about the house; I should look at either downsizing from the six-bedroom monstrosity or hiring a housekeeper and gardener to help me out. With the contents of our bank account, and Dave's life insurance policy, I knew I'd be comfortable for the rest of my life.

I half tuned back into Jack's voice. As we'd agreed, Dave was leaving his Mustang to Anne and his trusty old jeep to Derek.

The business would be turned over to a trust, administered by the children, with the three of them acting as the board, with equal voting rights. Derek could manage it if he so chose, for a generous salary. That was fair. I knew nothing about business and wouldn't need the income.

I tuned out again as more details on running the business were read out. Fond thoughts of Dave and my life together were helping me get through the shock of his loss. He was a remarkable man, dragging himself from the poor house he'd been born into and creating assets from scratch that meant we survivors would want for little in our lives.

Suddenly, my third ear picked up a little discord in Jack's words.

"I'm sorry, what was that last bit, Jack?"

With a look of annoyance, Jack turned the page he was reading back over and started re-reading the paragraph I'd missed.

"The house is to be sold with all profits going into a trust to be administered by Jack Percell, to be used solely at his discretion for the education of my grandchildren from Molly White, nee Brown, Derek Brown, and Anne Brown. To this trust will be added the entire contents of my private bank accounts, with said Jack Percell having my power of attorney to access those accounts. He is also authorised and directed to cancel all credit cards held in my name."

My mind was reeling at this point. We'd gone well off the script of the Will that Dave and I had updated in this very office, not two years ago. What the hell was going on? Had Dave secretly changed his Will from what I knew about?

"And, as per the nomination of beneficiaries form, lodged with the insurance company, the entirety of my death benefit is to be paid to Ms Jennifer Sarah Jardine, of 12 Pedley Court, Summertown."

Suddenly, I was on my feet, having made no conscious decision to rise. My body was on autopilot. Bank accounts emptied, house to be sold, insurance payout to... who? My husband's P.A.? I think I yelled something like, "What the hell?"

A deathly hush suffused the room. The tension was palpable. I stared at the familiar face of Jack. He stared right back; a look of disgust on his face. I recoiled. To avoid that look I glanced to his right. Straight into the eyes of his secretary. I didn't know her at all, she was new since I'd last been here. The look of contempt on the face of this stranger was possibly even worse than Jack's expression.

Turning my face away from both of them forced me to look at my children. Anne and Molly were looking expressionlessly at the table. Even their postures mirrored each other; heads bent, shoulders tense, hands clasped in laps, knuckles white. Derek was the only one looking at me. Looking was the wrong word. He was glaring at me and with such a depth of anger it made me wish with all my heart he too was looking at the table.

Suddenly, a cold thought entered my head. Surely, they didn't know. In my last lucid moments before emotions ruled supreme, logic supplied the answers that wishful thinking was suppressing.

Dave had known. He'd told Jack and amended the Will. Now the icy reception I'd received when I entered this torture chamber made perfect sense. Jack must have given my children a heads up before I arrived. Call me a coward if you like but I turned and bolted from the room.

Julie was still in the office, sitting at the reception desk, on the phone. A rush of relief flooded my roiling belly. Boy, did I need a friend right now. I walked around the desk to her. I was but two paces away when her words penetrated my over-heated brain.

"If you check your records, you'll see that his wife's cell phone was on a contract under his name. He is deceased now but if you give me your fax number I can send you the power of attorney my husband was given over all his affairs."

I watched stunned as she jotted down a number on the legal pad before her. She still hadn't acknowledged my presence when she thanked the person on the other end of the phone line and rang off

As she put down the phone, she stood, putting the chair between us. The look of disgust on her face was devastating.

"Jack showed me some of the photos Dave left in a sealed envelope to show your children. You sicken me. I hope the sex with your young lovers was worth destroying one of the finest men I ever knew."

With that, she walked into the conference room. I watched, rooted to the spot by her words as she walked around the huge table and hugged her husband. If I wasn't mistaken, he was shaking. No one looked my way. No one cared about my devastation. Feeling more alone than I ever had, I fled.

Once outside, I heard the ping that I'd received a text. It was from Jack and said it was Dave's express wish that I not attend his funeral.

CHAPTER 2

How I made it home without totally losing it, I will never know.

I sat on the couch, stunned. I thought Dave loved me with everything he had. Sure, our sex life had suffered in the last ten or so years, slowly dwindling to nothing. But, hey, neither of us were spring chickens anymore and, after thirty-two years, who could blame us?

Fuck! About ten years ago? Could it have been eleven?

Julie's words of an hour ago echoed through my rattled brain.

"I hope the sex with your young lovers was worth destroying one of the finest men I ever knew."

Lovers. Plural. Oh my god! Dave knew not only about Justin, but Mario as well. No, he couldn't have. Mario was years ago. No way could Dave have stayed with me that long without saying something.

No, he could only have known about Justin and Julie made a mistake in the heat of the moment. Yes, that was it. However, even that knowledge had shaken Dave enough cut me out of his Will, and even worse, tell my children. What hate would drive him to that extreme?

It was all too overwhelming, so I grabbed the gin bottle and filled a hi-ball glass. I spilled some as my hands were shaking badly. The fire in my throat did calm me down slightly.

How could Dave do this to me? I still loved him.

My god, did Dave know that I still loved him? Was part of his problem in bed that he thought I was going to leave him? Now I think about it, he did become colder in the last year or so, but I was too busy to put the pieces together. I realised I'd subconsciously rationalised his backing away from me emotionally as being embarrassment about his problem.

Tears once again brimmed, threatening to spill over. I blinked them away. I needed to think. I wondered how Dave had stood to live with someone like me for the last year-and-a-half. The pain in my chest was physical. I pressed my hands to my ribs as if they could stop my soul from tearing apart. Tearing apart for the pain and fear Dave must have felt for some time. He'd thought I didn't love him or, even worse, was planning on leaving him. Why else would he have set out to destroy me so totally?

"Wrong, wrong, wrong, Dave," I screamed to the empty room. "I never loved you any less. It was just sex with the others. I never meant to hurt you and would never have left you."

I slumped back onto the couch, devastated by one surety. Dave had died not knowing that.

My mind went into Lalaland for a little while, for self-preservation, I think.

CHAPTER 3

"Rita, are you in there?"

It was my sister, Mary's, voice. The gravel rattling against the open upstairs window, combined with her yells, woke me from my hung-over slumber, fully clothed on the master bed.

Staggering to the window, I blearily looked out, then staggered downstairs to let her in the back door. She and her husband had been on a cruise for the last ten days. As far as I knew, she didn't even know Dave was... no longer with us.

"Rita, are you all right? I heard about Dave, you poor thing. Why aren't you answering your phone?"

Freshly awoken, reminded of my loss, her questions overwhelmed me. Without a word, I let her in, wandered over to where my cell was on the charger and tried it. Dead. I sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and burst into tears as everything came flooding back. Mary sat next to me and held my hands in hers.

"Oh my god! How could they leave you alone in this state? Hang on, I'll ring Anne. Why isn't she here?"

Just as she reached for her phone, my loud, "NO", stunned her to immobility. She sat there as I pulled what was left of me together and mentally prepared to lose my sister's respect, along with the rest of the world's. Finally.

"Do you remember that time about eleven years ago, when Dave was doing that job for the coroner in the ACT, you know, after that girl was killed during that demolition job?"

Mary nodded. I'd been right proud at the time that my husband was considered expert enough in his field to be called as an assistant investigator. Dave was away for almost two weeks.

"Well..."

Shit, this was harder than I thought. Mary was my little sister and had always looked up to me.

"There was this young guy, he was on the same church committee as me, and we'd... er... flirted a bit in the past."

Mary frowned at me but remained silent.

"Well, while Dave was in Canberra I agreed to go to dinner with the guy, Brian, his name was. He was in his late twenties and hot, if you know what I mean. I had two or three glasses of wine with dinner and..."

At the look of horror on Mary's face my courage almost failed me, but I took a deep breath and ploughed on. I sought solace in the memories of that time. I was paying for my infidelity at the moment and, twisted though the logic was, the memories of the fun I'd had straying from my marital vows were the coins that offset that price.

"Oh, Mary. Brian was big and energetic. He took me to his place and just had me over and over. The guy was a battering ram. I had so many orgasms..."

"Rita! Oh, my god, stop. Are you here to unburden your soul or brag about the joys of extra-marital sex?"

At her rebuke, heat filled my face. I apologised for getting off track and returned to a fairly dispassionate account of the all-nighter with Brian and not staggering home until the next day. Mary was shocked I'd betrayed Dave in a drunken mistake like that.

But not as shocked as when I went on to recount that once I'd quieted my conscience I'd gone back for more, again and again. Only stopping when Brian had been blinded in a freak accident at the school where he taught chemistry. He was working alone in the lab when the glass container he was heating up exploded. The combination of shattered glass and the corrosive liquid in the flask took out both his eyes. He'd only been wearing glasses rather than the regulation face shield. I'd lost contact with him after that. Mary sat stunned throughout my narration.

"So, when did your affair end?"

"That affair ended a little over ten years ago."

That sentence hung between us for many seconds.

"That affair?"

"Um, yes. Oh, Mary. You wouldn't believe how a girl's ego is boosted at our age by having someone on the side. Someone young, attractive and... er... energetic, if you know what I mean."

I lapsed into an embarrassed silence; praying Mary wouldn't follow up with what her expression told me she was thinking.

"And, I imagine, judging by the smug look on your face, that the sense of superiority you got pulling the wool over Dave's eyes was a factor."

I'd always known my baby sister was smart. She was proving it once again. I'd often wondered if part of my motivation for finding a replacement for Brian, a little over a year after his disfigurement, was because of an innate sense of inferiority I felt when compared to my husband. I recalled that time. Sure, I wasn't a successful businessperson, like Dave, but I was a brilliant parent. Then I remembered it striking me, like it was yesterday. Dave was both a brilliant parent and a successful businessman. I'd always known, deep down, that that was probably the motivation for what I continued to do.

"I, uh, don't know. Maybe. I certainly didn't want to hurt him."

"But you went out and found someone else, didn't you?"

Shamefacedly, I looked down at the table. "Yes."

"And this guy was young and fit as well, wasn't he?"

My silence was all that was needed.

"Spill."

"Well, Michael wasn't totally my fault. About this time, Dave started having problems in the, er, performance department. I felt like I wasn't exciting him anymore no matter what I did or how I tried. I was still in my sexual prime and that hurt..."

"Cut the crappy self-justification, Rita. Get to the bit about going out and getting your ashes hauled by another super-stud."