The Forgotten One (The Heirs #2)

Epilogue

Max, Sarah, Chase, Piper, and Alex stood over a casket in an Arkansas cemetery behind a little white church.

Lisa Davis passed exactly twenty-four hours after Max met his mother.

It was as if her body knew there was nothing else for her to accomplish in this life, and she simply let go.

Sarah held Max’s hand, guiding him the best she knew how as he navigated the loss of the woman for the second time.

The four of them sat in the back of the church during the funeral; the pews were filled with people that knew the woman. There were tears, as one would expect, and also relief from the ones that were made to watch her suffer her untimely death.

Sarah took it all in and attempted to understand what Max had to be feeling.

The pallbearers had literally walked the casket straight out to the cemetery, where a headstone had already been erected with Lisa’s name, the span of her life, and the words Beloved Daughter .

Not mother .

As the people slowly trickled away from the graveyard, the five of them stood there in silence.

“She robbed me of my anger the moment we stepped into her room,” Max said out loud. “Everything I’d built up in my head about her was one hundred percent true. Selfish, calculated, cruel. But I can’t hate her.” Max looked over at Sarah, squeezed her hand. “She led me to you.”

Alex laid a hand on his shoulder. “And had our father not done the right thing by telling us about you, Lisa would have brought you to us,” she added.

“We won’t repeat the sins of our parents,” Chase said. “We’ll put family first.”

“Always,” Alex said.

“All of us.” Max lifted Sarah’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

Inside the tiny hall of the small church, the tradition of throwing a celebration in honor of the person that couldn’t be there to enjoy it commenced.

Sarah watched as Max focused his attention on the people gathering behind the windows.

No one had really talked to the five of them, but several were watching from the other side of the glass.

Max blew out a breath. “I’m going in there. Tell them who I am,” he announced.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Sarah asked.

He shook his head. “This is something I need to do alone. I won’t be long.”

Max made his way into the hall as the four of them watched.

“How is he really doing?” Alex asked Sarah.

“He’s letting the emotion out, which is making this easier,” she said. “His defensive move is to shut down. He’s not doing that.”

“That’s good to know,” Piper said.

Sarah kept her eyes glued to the windows and saw when Max approached Joe and Patty.

“Do you think they have any idea?” Alex mused.

“Five people that are in the back pew that nobody knows ... that are dressed like us? They probably think we’re from the mafia,” Piper stated.

Sarah took a good look at what each of them was wearing.

Chase wore an Armani suit, black. Max had one to match ... both of them wore ties.

Piper wore a black pantsuit and overcoat.

Alex wore a form-fitting black dress that went past her knees, her hair slicked back into a ponytail, a long jacket ... and looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

And Sarah had on a simple A-line dress with long sleeves and low heels. The Converse shoes didn’t feel right.

While all of that sounded appropriate for a funeral and many of the people in attendance had black in their outfits, most wore simple, muted colors that they’d wear the next week when going out for Sunday dinner in the winter.

The four of them followed Max’s gestures and saw the moment he told Joe and Patty who he was.

Patty took hold of his shoulders, looked at her husband, and looked back again. Then threw her arms around Max.

It took a beat, but Max hugged the woman back.

“He’s getting better at that,” Sarah announced.

Piper sighed. “Well, at least they didn’t run him off with a baseball bat.”

Alex started to laugh slowly. “Good times, good times.”

Joe was next for a hug.

There were nods and more conversation.

“Let me recap the last twelve months. We’ve had two funerals, two engagements, one shotgun wedding—”

“I didn’t see a shotgun,” Piper interrupted Alex.

“Details, details. A baby and a new brother. Are we good for a while?” she asked.

A collective sigh went through them.

“What about a sister-in-law?” Sarah asked.

Alex gasped. “Has he asked you?” she asked excitedly.

Sarah shook her head with a grin. “Not yet.”

Alex put an arm around Sarah. “I think you’re right about the yet .”

Max was turning around to leave the room, so the four of them walked out of the cemetery and to the oversize SUV.

Max joined them a few minutes later. The smile on his face was refreshing to see. It was as if some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“That looked like it went well,” Chase said, beating Sarah to the statement.

“Patty said that I’d made the hardest day of their lives one of the best ones.”

“That’s amazing,” Piper said.

“It is. I told them I’d come back in a month or so. Get to know them. Introduce them to my girlfriend.” He smiled at Sarah. “And tell them about my family.”

Chase looked back from the driver’s seat and turned over the engine. “Is there anything else you want to do here?”

Max looked out the window toward the cemetery. “No. I’m good.”

Max and Sarah sat up in bed the next night, the fireplace sparking with heat from the logs that burned and crackled.

“I couldn’t have gotten through any of this without you.”

Sarah nestled in the crook of his arms, his chest to her ear ... otherwise known as her favorite place in the world to be. “You could have ... just not as well,” she teased.

“No. I would have been angrier and more bitter,” he confessed.

“Probably.”

He chuckled and sighed. “I want to do something to right the wrongs of the system.”

“Any idea what or how?”

“I was hoping we could figure that out together.”

She glanced at him, then rested her head where it belonged. “You picked a good time. I’m unemployed and need to do something to keep me busy.”

“The Times is going to swoop you up as soon as you send them your résumé.”

His confidence was contagious. “When they do, I’ll be pitching pieces that expose the wrongs and push for the rights of the forgotten children out there. Together, we’re going to make a difference.”

“We sure are,” he said.

Max ran his thumb over her left hand.

Sarah wiggled her fingers. “I’m a size five,” she told him.

He pushed her hand onto his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah-huh . . . sure.”

A moment passed.

The fire sparked.

“I love you, Sarah. Never doubt that.”

She closed her eyes and relished in his words. Words that meant more than any ring ever would.

Sarah looked up and reached her lips to his, pulled back, smiled, and then fell in again.

Glenn Peterson stepped into the offices of the correction center and to his locker to clock out for the day. He’d made progress with one of the newest kids, but he knew he’d lost one who had arrived back inside after only being out for two weeks. Almost like he’d taken a holiday break to see the family, and now he was back in. The kid was sixteen and couldn’t seem to make the transition.

Glenn wouldn’t give up; it wasn’t in his DNA. Not until they were in a state penitentiary with more life on the inside than on the out.

If he could catch them early enough, he could make a difference.

He knew that from the bottom of his open, weeping heart.

“Peterson!” one of the guards called out when he buzzed through the locked doors.

“Yeah?”

“You got something in the mail. It was registered.” The guard waved a large envelope in the air.

Curious, Glenn retrieved the envelope and turned it over in his hand.

There was a company name he didn’t know on the Sent by line.

Glenn thanked the guard, made his way to his ten-year-old Honda, and tossed his coat onto the passenger seat.

He ripped through the oversize mailer and pulled out a letter and a second envelope, this one plain white.

Hello, Glenn,

I know you never wanted to hear from me again, but after you read what I’m proposing, I’m hopeful that you won’t be angry that I didn’t follow your last instructions.

Once upon a time, you said the right things to the right kid. And that kid went on to make the right choices in his life.

I couldn’t be more grateful for your wisdom and your candor at that crucial time.

If you’ve followed the news, this may not come as a surprise. But I seem to remember you saying once that the news was ninety-nine percent bullshit and one percent crap. It took me a year to realize that you were saying it was all good for nothing.

Either way ... my life took a pivotal turn last year. And because of that, I’m able to give you this. If you don’t cash it, I’ll pay someone to put it into your account directly. Don’t be a martyr, Glenn. Sometimes good things happen to good people.

And we both know where you stand.

While this is for you, what I’m proposing next will be for the others. I’m starting a foundation and a work-release program for kids that need an opportunity to do the right thing. And I’d like your counsel on how to best accomplish this.

This is the first of what I believe will be a network of well-funded charities that will make a difference in the lives of the forgotten kids out there that just need one person to listen, to love ... and give them an opportunity.

We all have that one hill worth dying on.

And this one is mine.

I’ve left how you can get ahold of me on the bottom of this letter.

You have no obligation to me or anyone to help in my quest.

This gift is free and clear of any further involvement. Consider it interest paid on the five hundred dollars you loaned me all those years ago.

I look forward to hearing from you sooner or later.

Sooner if you don’t take the money.

Take the fucking money, Glenn!

Buy a new car. You always drove a piece of shit.

All my best,

Maximillian Smith

Co-owner, Stone Enterprises

The name sounded off familiar bells in Glenn’s head.

Snotty kid when he’d first arrived, with a kind heart and a whole shitload of hard knocks in life.

Stone Enterprises , Glenn mused.

It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Glenn slowly opened the envelope. “Buy a car? Really?” He laughed to himself.

He saw five hundred and smiled.

A tiny Post-it covered the zeros.

On the Post-it was a note.

The taxman is an asshole, so I had to pad the check so you’re not completely screwed.

Glenn peeled away the sticky note and counted the zeros.

He blinked.

Rubbed his eyes. And read the number again.

Pay to the order of: Glenn Peterson. Five hundred thousand dollars.

His body and mind buzzed as his adrenaline spiked.

Glenn picked up his cell phone and dialed the number on the letter.