The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(86)
Over the years, I cried a million tears for my lost baby girl and, wrong as it might have been, I loved John ‘till the day I died, which I suppose was my punishment for having loved him in the first place. Pastor Broody used to say the Lord was a forgiving God and I believe that’s the truth; although I did a lot of suffering, He sent me Destiny who was as close to a daughter as I might ever wish for. John was never mine to be had, and nothing on earth would have changed that, but seeing Charles so much in love with Destiny gave my heart the happiness I’d missed out on. Thank You, Lord, I whispered, knowing the words would find their way into God’s ear.
After dinner, Charles asked if Destiny had given any thought to what she might do after the trial was over. “It’s hard to say,” she laughed, “if I lose my house and the Thunderbird, I’ll be riding the bus and trying to find an apartment.”
“I don’t mean right after the trial,” Charles said nervously, “I’m talking about the rest of your life. Have you given that any thought?”
“Rest of my life?”
“Oh hell,” Charles moaned as he fumbled to open the box in his pocket, “I’m trying to propose, but obviously doing a terrible job of it.” He clumsily pried the ring from the box and reached out for her hand. “Destiny, I love you with all my heart,” he said, “It would make me the happiest man on earth if you’d marry me.”
“Oh Charles,” she sighed, looking down at the ring but not offering her finger. “I love you too – more than words can say – but this isn’t the right time. I think when the jury sees Miss Abigail’s will, they’ll believe I’m telling the truth, but what if they don’t? What if they decide Elliott should get everything? He’s claiming I’ve got a million dollars hidden away – that’s more money than I can ever hope to repay. I can’t say I’ll marry you with the threat of that hanging over my head.”
“Marriage is for better or worse,” he answered, “whatever happens, happens. It’s important that we talk about this now, because I don’t want to ever question whether or not your answer was predicated on the outcome of the trial – and, even more importantly, I don’t want you to ever wonder whether I wanted you or Abigail Lannigan’s money.”
“But, what if I lose?”
“Will that change the way you feel about me?”
“Of course not!” she answered. “It’s just that –”
“Better or worse,” he repeated.
She smiled a smile that sent a glow of happiness clear up to heaven, then she extended her left arm across the table and offered him her finger. “There’s nothing in the entire world,” she sighed, “I want more than to be married to you.”
The following morning when Destiny promised to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, there was a gleam in her eyes that out-sparkled the diamond on her finger. A person blind from birth could have seen she was in love and paying way more attention to her lawyer than the questions he was asking.
Charles on the other hand, was trying to pull from her the story as she’d told it to him. Finally, he said in desperation, “Please, Miss Fairchild, in your own words, tell the court the nature of your relationship with Abigail Lannigan.” As it turned out, that was the right thing to ask, because Destiny opened up like a daisy in sunshine.
“We were close as sisters,” she said. “There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Miss Abigail and nothing she wouldn’t do for me. When I moved into the house with not a nickel for furniture, she gave me a whole bunch of stuff.”
Knowing what her answer would be Charles asked, “You mean she bought the furniture for your house?”
“No. It was mostly things she didn’t use. We hauled them up from the basement, the two of us. I carried most everything, but Miss Abigail helped with the table and recliner – you know, big things that were hard to maneuver around the corner.”
“Did you pay for any of this furniture Abigail Lannigan gave you?”
“Not with money,” she answered, “but, I cleaned her house, ran errands, took her places she had to go, things like that.” Destiny gave the most nostalgic sigh, and then said, “That’s how we became friends.” After that she didn’t need a lot of prodding to tell about things we’d done. When she went on to tell how we’d planned to swim naked in the ocean, Eleanor Farrell, a housewife sitting in the front row of the jury box, was grinning like a person who might have considered doing such a thing herself.
Eventually Charles moved on to the issue of my will. “When Abigail Lannigan wrote what was intended as her last will and testament,” he asked, “couldn’t you see that the handwriting was totally illegible?”
“No,” she answered. “Miss Abigail put it in the drawer; I never saw it.”
“Weren’t you curious? Here, she’d indicated that you, not a blood relative, were to inherit her entire estate – didn’t you want to safeguard that inheritance, check to make certain the document was legal, maybe have it notarized?” Charles’ question sounded almost harsh, but he was pushing her to tell the story as he’d first heard it.
“She tried to show me what she’d written, but I wouldn’t look,” Destiny finally said, her voice thin and weighted down with sorrowful memories. “I told her I wasn’t interested in seeing it, because I didn’t believe she was going to die.”