Chapter 3 - Five Empty Chairs.
The funeral service lasted thirty-two minutes.
Grant heard almost none of it.
He sat in the front row beside Vanessa while the pastor spoke about Arthur Hale's discipline, loyalty, and belief that a person's word mattered more than money.
Every sentence felt aimed directly at him.
Across the aisle, Savannah sat with the five children.
Rose leaned against her side.
Caleb kept glancing at Grant and quickly looking away whenever their eyes met.
Grant remembered the kitchen window in the small brick house he and Savannah had rented after their wedding.
Ethan used to drag a wooden chair there when Grant traveled for work.
He would kneel on the seat and wait for headlights.
Grant had once joked that the boy would wear a hole in the glass with his forehead.
Now Ethan was twelve and looked at him like a stranger who had failed an interview.
After the final prayer, mourners began drifting toward their cars.
Grant approached Savannah near an old oak tree.
Vanessa followed.
Savannah noticed immediately.
“I said I would speak to you.”
Grant glanced at Vanessa.
“Alone.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“Absolutely not.”
Savannah's eyebrows rose.
Grant turned to his sister.
“Go home.”
Vanessa's defensive expression hardened.
“You're grieving.”
“So is she.”
Vanessa stared at him.
Grant had defended Savannah without thinking.
The old instinct unsettled everyone.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Dad was confused near the end.”
Savannah laughed once.
“Your father could recite the serial number of the rifle he carried forty years ago.”
“That doesn't mean he understood what you were doing.”
“What exactly was I doing?”
“Getting close to him for money.”
The children heard that.
Savannah's expression changed instantly.
She did not raise her voice.
“Do not discuss money in front of them.”
Vanessa gave a dismissive shrug.
“They're standing at the center of it.”
“No.”
Savannah stepped closer.
“They are children at their grandfather's funeral.”
Grant looked toward Ethan.
The boy's hands were clenched at his sides.
Grant suddenly realized how many adult battles these children had been forced to witness.
“Vanessa, leave.”
This time his tone ended the argument.
She looked from him to the envelope.
Then she walked away without another word.
Grant waited until she was beyond hearing distance.
“Please give me the envelope.”
Savannah studied him.
“Tell me what happened seven years ago.”
“You know what happened.”
“I know what happened to me.”
Grant's chest tightened.
“Then tell me your version first.”
Savannah looked toward the grave.
“Your father called me three weeks ago.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I know.”
She faced him again.
“I need to know whether you still believe I disappeared.”
Grant hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Savannah nodded slowly.
“You do.”
“I received papers saying you wanted me gone.”
“I sent you letters every week for six months.”
“I received one.”
Savannah went still.
“One?”
Grant nodded.
“It said you had met someone else.”
Savannah stared at him.
Then she reached inside her dress uniform jacket and removed a folded photocopy.
“I kept copies of everything.”
She handed him a letter dated seven years earlier.
Grant read the first line.
Grant, I don't know why you won't answer, but the kids ask for you every night.
His hands began to shake.
He looked at the final page.
There was no mention of another man.
There was only a plea.
Please come home before Caleb is born.
Grant looked up.
Savannah was already watching him.
“Now you understand why I won't hand you Arthur's envelope until you tell me who gave you the other letter.”
Grant knew the answer.
He simply did not want to say it.
Savannah saw that too.
“Say her name.”
May you like
Grant closed his eyes.
“Vanessa.”
