I had no idea Emily had left something inside for me.
Walter smiled.
“Looks like your wife knew you’d eventually find your way back to this old thing.”
I looked around the motor home.
The faded cabinets.
The worn curtains.
The hummingbird hanging beside the window.
For the first time since Jason had sold it, I felt something besides anger.
I felt hope.
When the Police Arrived
Two officers arrived at the dealership shortly afterward.
Daniel handed them the sale documents, the title records, and copies of the identification Jason had provided.
I explained that I had never authorized the transaction.
The officers took my statement.
They asked whether Jason had permission to use the RV.
“No,” I answered.
“Did he have permission to sell it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you sign any documents transferring ownership?”
“No.”
One officer looked at the forged signature.
“Mr. Dawson, we’ll need to investigate how these documents were obtained and used.”
I nodded.
Then he asked a question that hurt more than I expected.
“Do you want to make a formal complaint?”
I looked at the motor home.
My son’s face flashed through my mind.
Jason as a toddler.
Jason learning to ride his bicycle.
Jason graduating from high school.
Jason standing beside me at Emily’s memorial service, holding my arm because my knees were shaking.
I loved my son.
I always would.
But loving him didn’t mean pretending he hadn’t done something terribly wrong.
“Yes,” I said.
“I do.”
The Phone Call Jason Never Expected
The next morning, Jason called.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
I was sitting at my kitchen table with Emily’s journal open in front of me.
“Go ahead.”
He sounded irritated.
“The dealership called me. They’re saying there’s a problem with the paperwork.”
“There is.”
He sighed.
“Dad, don’t make this bigger than it needs to be.”
“You signed my name.”
Silence.
Then he said, “I was going to tell you.”
“You already told me you sold it.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean, Jason?”
He didn’t answer.
I waited.
Finally, he said, “Britney already scheduled the procedure. We can’t just give the money back.”
I stared at the wall.
Even now, he was thinking about the money.
Not the trust he’d broken.
Not the years I’d spent saving.
Not the fact that he’d stolen something that held memories of his mother.
“Jason,” I said quietly, “do you remember the last thing your mother told you?”
He hesitated.
“What?”
“She told you to look after the people who love you.”
He became silent.
“You didn’t look after me,” I continued. “You took advantage of me.”
“Dad—”
“And I’m not going to pretend that didn’t happen.”
His voice hardened.
“So you’re choosing an old RV over your own son?”
I closed the journal.
“No, Jason. You chose twenty thousand dollars over your father’s trust.”
Then I ended the call.
Britney Came to My House
Two days later, Britney appeared at my front door.
She wasn’t wearing her oversized sunglasses.
Her eyes were red.
“Frank, can we talk?”
I stepped aside.
She sat at the kitchen table.
