From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 6, Goodbye, Edgar

 This is episode six of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

  If you would like to purchase "From  Here to 1137," it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or 

paperback.

Goodbye, Edgar

Edgar stormed away from the funeral home without speaking to anyone.

Tom and Gene walked out of the room. Gene stopped Tom in the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Gene asked. 

“Yeah, he’ll cool down,” Tom said.

“I’ve done these types of things for years,” Gene said. “Being left out of a will; well, some folks never recover. Prepare yourself, this may be the last time you’ll see your brother.”

“I hope not,” Tom said. 

They walked back into the funeral area. The crowd began to thin out. They were heading to the grange for the meal.

Tom walked out to the car. Edgar sat in the passenger's seat.

Tom opened the door and slid in.

“Look, Edgar, we can work this all out.”

“You have nothing to do with it,” Edgar said spitefully. “Didn’t you hear? It’s all in the hands of a two-bit dime store lawyer. He can’t wait to rub it in to a Harvard lawyer.”

“Gene’s not like that,” Tom said. “He’s a good and honest man.”

“Look, Edgar,” Tom said. “I don’t want anything to come between us.”

“Oh, little Tommy Gun,” Edgar said, “you are so thick. We’ve never been together. There are seven years between us. The only thing we have in common is our genes. I have to admit, you got the good looks, but you never had a lick of sense.”

“You’re hurt,” Tom said. “I get it. I’d be hurt too.”

Edgar chuckled. “You wouldn’t be hurt. You’re incapable of being hurt. If it were you, you wouldn’t even know what happened in there. Hurt! It’s devastating! If it were you, you would just say,” Edgar mocked dullard-like, ‘Well, yup, let’s go out and pick some corn.’”

“What did you expect to happen?” Tom asked.

“I expected it would be fair,” Edgar said. 

“And that would be?” Tom asked.

“Sell the farm and split it down the middle,” Edgar said.

“But mom had other ideas,” Tom said. “And to complicate things, you owed money. I had no idea.”

“Do you have any idea what that farm is worth?” Edgar asked.

“I haven’t even thought about it,” Tom said.

“Well over a couple hundred grand,” Edgar said.

“I didn’t know that,” Tom said.

“That’s it,” Edgar said, “you know nothing.”

“I know that you owe the farm money,” Tom said.

“Have fun holding that over my head,” Edgar said.

“I’m not,” Tom said. “It just seems that you’re talking down to me. You shouldn’t. A case can be made that you owe me big time. I worked up until midnight and went to school the next day. I didn’t go to school dances. I didn’t join any clubs. I got on the bus, came home, and worked on the farm. You know what’s under your name in your school annual? Achievements, varsity sports, clubs, homecoming king. You were in everything. You know what’s under my picture? Thomas Randolph Bales. That’s it. And it’s not with the Bs. They forget me and put me at the end. And some of the profits from the farm were paying your way. I did it because I love Mom and you. I’m proud of you, Edgar.”

“Mom slapped me in the face,” Edgar said bitterly. 

“She was trying to be fair,” Tom said. “Can’t you see, you have already received your inheritance?”

“You and your sweet little naive ways,” Edgar said. “You really won Mom over. That, I have to hand it to you.”

“That’s not so,” Tom said. “I knew nothing about your arrangements for college. I knew the farm was helping you out, but I never questioned anything. I just accepted that was the way it was.”

“I’m not going to the grange,” Edgar said. “Take me into town. The nearest car rental. I’m going back to the airport by myself. I’ll see if I can catch an early flight.”

“Okay, Edgar,” Tom said. “I can do that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Tom drove the car to a stop at a car rental agency. 

Edgar slid out and got his suit bag from the backseat. 

Tom got out and spoke over the roof of the car to Edgar. “I hate for this to end this way.”

“There was never a beginning,” Edgar said. “We’ve always been apart.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Tom said. “I was hoping we could do some things together as grown brothers. You know, hunt and fish together. Come to New York and hang out.”

“Tommy Gun,” Edgar said, “you wouldn’t fit.”

Tom watched Edgar walk up to the door of the car rental. 

“Hey, Edgar!”

Edgar turned around. “What?”

“Never call me Tommy Gun again.” 

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 5, The Will

 This is episode five of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

  If you would like to purchase "From  Here to 1137," it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or 

paperback.

The Will

Dalton Page, a high school classmate of Edgar’s, conducted the funeral. He became a Methodist minister and picked up a little extra money on the side as the grange pastor. Hank Somers, the grange president, gave a heartfelt eulogy. 

And it was over—in half an hour. 

There were about fifty people at the funeral. Edgar greeted folks but was clearly distracted. He attempted to work his way to Gene Francis, the lawyer. He was eager to find out what was in the will.

Edgar brushed past two people on his way to Gene.

“Hello, Edgar,” Gene said, extending his hand.

Edgar shook his hand, wearing an insincere smile. “It’s been ages.”

“How are things going for you?” Gene asked,

“Very good,” Edgar said. “I passed the bar, first try.”

“That’s good,” Gene said.

“It seems like not that long ago when my wife and I were playing cards with your dad and mom.  You asked me about being a lawyer. And here you are. Your mom and dad would have been very proud.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Edgar said. “Tom tells me you planned on bringing the will with you. Can we get that over with?”

“Sure,” Gene smiled politely. “Let’s round up Tom.”

Edgar looked around the room. He spotted Tom. He waved anxiously at him to come.

Tom made his way through the guests, stopping a couple of times to receive condolences. 

“There’s a room we can use,” Gene said. “I talked to the folks here at the funeral home. They said we could use it without being disturbed.”

Gene led the way to a room that resembled a small living room. They entered the room, and Gene shut the door.

They sat. Tom and Edgar sat on a couch, and Gene sat in a chair.

Gene pulled the will from his inside suit pocket. “Before I read this, I’d like to express my deepest sympathy. I’ve known your mom and dad nearly all my life. We were good friends. They entrusted me with some of the biggest decisions in their lives. In fact, many years ago, your dad asked me if he should propose to your mom.” Gene smiled. “I told him, I’d give him a week, and if he didn’t, I would. Your mom got the best deal. Your dad was one of the finest men I knew. He could have been anything, but he said a farm is the best place to raise a family. Family was everything to him. And your mom, there was no end to her generosity. As you probably already know, there is no one to replace her, not just as your mom, but in this community.”

“Thank you, Gene,” Tom said, pressing back his tears.

Edgar bobbed his head, agreeing. His eyes were fixed on the will.

“Let me read this,” Gene said. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll cut to the quick. I’m sure Edgar is familiar with all the precedent legal verbiage, and I’m equally certain Tom doesn’t want to hear it. However, you can read it later.” Gene cleared his throat. “

“I devise and bequeath both real and personal property, wherever situated, to the following: first beneficiary, all goes to my son, Thomas Bales.”

Gene looked up from the will.

“That’s it!?” Edgar said.

“That’s it,” Gene said. 

Edger suddenly wore a sickly smile. He glanced at Tom for a reaction. Tom stared back expressionless. 

“There has to be more,” Edgar said. 

“There is,” Gene said.

“Well, let’s hear it!” Edgar demanded.

“I hereby direct the executor and sole beneficiary of my will to collect all loans made to my son, Edgar.”

“This is a fraud,” Edgar said. “This will go to court. I’ll appeal it.”

“At your pleasure and at your expense,” Gene said.

“Mom was not in her right mind the last couple of months,” Edgar said.

“The will is dated one year after your dad’s death,” Gene said. “I told her to wait a year. That was my advice. I didn’t want anyone saying she was under some sort of emotional distress when making the will.”

“Tom is eighteen!” Edgar said. “He barely made it out of high school.”

“Everything is held in a trust until Tom is twenty-one,” Gene said. “I’m the trustee. Tom can’t cancel debts or extend them. It is my duty to collect them. The will makes that clear.” 

“And a tidy little sum you are collecting,” Edgar spurted.

“If you want,” Gene said, “I can send a monthly statement. And, so we’re clear, I’m not collecting a dime. I waived all fees.”

“This is a joke,” Edgar said. He gave a quick, disgusted look at Gene and then Tom. He smirked and left the room. 

From Here To 1137 AD; Epidode 4, Picking Up Edgar

 This is episode four of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

  If you would like to purchase "From  Here to 1137," it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or 

paperback.

Picking Up Edgar

Friday, Tom picked corn until 7:00 PM. He showered, hopped in the truck, and headed to the airport, an hour away. He stopped at the drive-through window at a fast-food restaurant. He ordered a burger and a Coke and ate on the way to the airport. He parked at the airport’s parking garage a little past 9:00 PM. Edgar’s plane was due in at 9:10 PM. Tom waited at the gate.

The plane arrived, and passengers began flowing out the jet bridge exit.  Tom caught sight of Edgar coming through the door. He looked different. His hair was styled and hung loose. His clothes, though casual, appeared stylish. He carried a suit bag. 

Tom looked down at himself; faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He rubbed the fronts of his shoes on the back of his pants to remove the dust. 

Disappointment showed through Edgar’s smile. Tom immediately noticed it. 

‘I should have thrown something better on,’ Tom thought. “And I brought the pickup. He’s embarrassed. I suppose he has the right to be.’

“Hey, Tommy Gun,” Edgar said and joked, “Looks like you’ve been in the fields all day.”

“Actually,” Tom said, “I have been. I’m trying to get the corn in. They’re saying rain next week.”

“Well, what the heck,” Edgar said and shook Tom’s hand, “It’s good to see you, and thanks for coming down to pick me up.

“Yeah,” Tom said, “it’s been a while. You look different.”

They began to walk down the concourse toward the parking garage. 

“It’s been a year,” Edgar said.

“Actually, two and a half,” Tom said.

“Are you sure?” Edgar said.

“I’m sure,” Tom said. “Mom kept track.”

Edgar slowed his pace. “So how was she in the end?”

“She was doing fine,” Tom said. “I think the treatments were too much for her. I guess it was one of those things where the cure is worse than the disease.”

“We’ve had it rough,” Edgar said, “losing both parents before I’m 25.”

“How are you feeling?” Tom asked.

“I’m devastated,” Edgar said, but his tone did not match the words. He said it as if ordering a drink.

“Have you contacted everybody?” Edgar asked.

“I called Amy, our cousin, and she said she’d take care of that for me.”

“Should have done it yourself,” Edgar said. “I bet she hasn’t called a soul. I bet the funeral will be an empty house. I was hoping to see a lot of old friends. You should have done the calling yourself. If you want things done right, don’t leave it to a cousin.”

“With getting in the corn and some other things, I had little time,” Tom said.

“What other things?” Edgar challenged.

“I had to make Mom’s arrangements at the funeral home. I met with the hospital, and they explained what actually happened with Mom. The cattle had to be fed. Mom got behind on some bills, and I had to get them all squared away. I had to go and pay our taxes. The cattle broke down a fence. And wandered all over the countryside. I had to gather them and repair the fence. Our well pump went out, and I had to replace it.”

“Couldn’t have somebody come out and do that? That’s what repairmen are for.” Edgar asked.

“Next Wednesday,” Tom replied.

“Which reminds me,” Edgar said, “remember I said something about my room?”

“I took care of it,” Tom said.

“Good man, Tommy Gun,” Edgar said.

They walked to the truck in the parking garage.

“The truck!” Edgar said disapointedly. “We have a car, don’t we?” 

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I was in such a hurry, I didn’t think. I’m used to hopping in the truck. Mom always drove the car.”

“Make sure we drive back in the car, alright, Tommy Gun,” Edgar said.

“Sure, the car,” Tom said.

“Good lad,” Edgar said.

They drove up to the pay booth. 

Edgar fished around in his pockets. He pulled out his wallet. “I’m afraid all I have are big bills.” He nodded at a sign under the teller’s window; We Take Nothing Over a Twenty Dollar Bill.

Tom pulled his wallet out and paid the teller. 

As they drove away, Tom asked, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Noon,” Edgar said. 

“You must be starved,” Tom said. “We’ll be home in an hour. A friend of Mom’s from the grange brought some ham sandwiches, a pint of potato salad, and lemon meringue pie.”

“I don’t eat that crap anymore,” Edgar said, “and neither should you. That’s probably why Mom and Dad are in the grave.”

“Actually,” Tom said, “they’re not in a grave. They were cremated.”

“That’s right, but you know what I meant.”

It was quiet for a couple of miles.

“Have you seen the lawyer?” Edgar said. “You know, about the will?”

“He’ll be at the funeral,” Tom said. “He said he’d bring the will and go over it with us privately at the funeral home. I told him about your tight schedule, and he was willing to accommodate you.”

“I guess it’s sort of a professional courtesy,” Edgar said. “Have you seen the will?”

“No,” Tom said. 

“Did Mom ever tell you what was in it?” Edgar asked.

“No,” Tom said. “I think she was uncomfortable talking about it.”

“Typical farmer,” Edgar said. “Oh, sorry, you’re a farmer.”

“Yep,” Tom said.

The rest of the way, Edgar entertained Tom by telling him about living in New York City and his work. Tom smiled politely at each appropriate time.

They arrived home. Edgar lowered his dietary preference and settled for the ham sandwich, but not the potato salad. He ate half a slice of the pie.

They sat at the kitchen table and talked as they ate.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” Edgar said.

“It’s funny,” Tom said, “When I took Mom for a treatment, I was looking at a magazine, you know, one of those home decorating ones. They had kitchens in that magazine just like this. People are returning to this style.”

“Outdated,” Edgar scoffed. “You should rip everything out and update this place. It looks like Margaret Truman decorated it. You know…”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Tom said.

“Harry’s wife,” Edgar couldn’t resist showing off his knowledge.

“Actually,” Tom said, “Margaret was the Trumans’ daughter. Bess was Harry’s wife.”

“Are you sure?” Edgar said. 

“I don’t think it makes a difference,” Tom smiled, “unless they had different tastes.”

“And this place smells the same,” Edgar said. “Can’t you get some scented candles or something?”

Tom smiled. “You ought to be here when the wind comes from the east. The Prescotts have started raising hogs.”

“What time is this thing tomorrow?” Edgar said.

“You mean the funeral?” Tom said.

“Is it technically a funeral?” Edger said, “There’s nobody. Will there be an urn?”

“At 10:00 AM,” Tom said. “I decided on no urn. And there’s a noon luncheon at the grange in Mom’s memory.”

“Sounds divine,” Edgar said.

“They just want to show their appreciation,” Tom said. “Over the years, she put in a lot of time at the grange hall.”

“They owe more than that,” Edgar said.

“What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” Tom asked. 

“Plane leaves at 6:35,” Edgar said.

“That will give you some time to talk to some old friends down at the grange,” Tom said.

“Yeah,” Edgar said. “I can hardly wait.”