The Tree and the Tablet (The St. James Chronicles Book 1)

by Kathryn O'Brien

  Turning away from the photo, Mr. Jacobs had stood up from behind the desk and reaching out my hand to shake his, he said earnestly, “Miss St. James, I’m so sorry for your loss. This won’t take long.” Clearing his throat, he sat down. He was a thin man. Almost anorexic looking. His aquiline nose curved downward at the tip toward his lips which gave him a hawk-like appearance. His eyes were small in his face and his hair was dark grey with large ears protruding from the side of his head.

  Taking the seat across from him in the leather chair facing the window that looked out into the yard, I could see Kelsey throwing a ball for Peanut. A small smile flitted across my lips slightly at the contrast of the view of the happy child and dog playing in the yard and the somber lawyer sitting across from me.

  “Jaxon and Andrea recently updated their wills. They both left everything to the children; however, since Dylon was part of the accident, everything defaults to a trust for Kelsey. The Trustee is listed as one Daniel James BlackFeather. Have you any knowledge of Mr. BlackFeather?”

  Shaking my head, “No, I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Well, I have a meeting with him later today. I’ll give him your contact information. You’ll also receive a copy of the contact information that I have for him.” Tilting his head to the side, “Interesting, he lives in Washington.” He squinted at the papers in his hand and turned the page, “the trust is fairly simple and basic. It states that all money will be held in trust until Kelsey is eighteen, at which point, she’ll gain her full inheritance. A stipend amount of a thousand dollars a month will be automatically deposited into your bank account at the beginning of every month for use in the care of Kelsey and if there are any emergencies or needs for more money than that, then you’d need to contact the trustee, Mr. BlackFeather, in order to obtain the funds upon his approval.” He looked up at me over his reading glasses to acknowledge I had heard him. “Of course, if something should happen to Kelsey prior to her eighteenth birthday, the remainder of the estate will be transferred to any living heir after fees are withdrawn for the Trustee. If there is no other heir, the money will be divided evenly between Mr. BlackFeather with the leftover portion to be contributed evenly to the various charities outlined in the will.

  Shocked, I looked up at him sharply and exclaimed, “That’s too much!” I wasn’t even upset that I didn’t get a share. I didn’t need it. I just didn’t think that I needed that much money every month to care for one child.

  His surprise at my response halted him briefly. Holding up his hand to stop me from interrupting him, he calmly replied, “Never-the-less, the will states clearly that you are to do whatever it is that you see fit with the money as long as it will help Kelsey to have a happy and balanced life.” He lowered his head and continued in a monotone voice, “The house will be sold and all holdings will be transferred to the trust account. A safe deposit box has been set up to hold the jewelry and sentimental items that are to be passed along to Kelsey when she turns eighteen.” He turned the page, “Jaxon’s made arrangements in his will to be buried in the family plot next to his parents. His final arrangements have all been handled and his service along with a memorial for your sister and Dylon will be in two days at Olmeyer Chapel.”

  Mr. Jacobs appeared to have suddenly taken ill or sat on a rather large and uncomfortable rock as his face became pale and he wriggled in his chair. “Miss St. James,”—clearing his throat— “Andrea had a special request for her remains. Also, there is the matter of what to do with Dylon, due to the unusual circumstance of his complete post-mortem birth.”

  Inhaling sharply, “What do you mean? I didn’t know Dylon survived the crash.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry about that. That’s not what I meant.” He swallowed hard. “It’s actually common for a baby to be partially born after a fatal incident to the mother. In this case, though, the emergency personnel pulled him from the birth canal to try and save him but it was too late. He was deceased upon impact and there was nothing they could do to bring him back.” My heart plummeted into my stomach again. Seeing my crestfallen expression, he said, “Again, I apologize for my blunder.” looking down, he mumbled, “I thought you knew.”

  Shaking my head briefly, a new wave of sorrow swept through me as I recalled in a whisper, “I asked if he survived but they said he was gone. They didn’t elaborate on what the situation was and I didn’t ask any other questions.”

  Nodding his head like a pigeon, he sighed and responded matter of factly. “Understandable.” He cleared his throat yet again. “Well, um, anyway, it’s customary to bury the child with the mother, but”— Hands shaking slightly, he reached for the glass of water at his left and took several large gulps. He clutched the papers in front of him now with a seemingly nervous intensity. Briefly, I wondered what got this man so worked up about the funeral arrangements for my sister. A troubled expression covered his face as he looked up at me uncertainly from his papers. Beady, golden eyes darted from me to the papers in his hand, and his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed up and down convulsively.

  Firmly, I stated, “We’ll bury him next to his father and mother, of course.” Now he really looked nervous. Clearing his throat for the fourth time, — “I’m not sure how to say this, but your sister didn’t want to be buried.”

  “Okay,” Confused and curious, I wondered why it was such a troublesome thought for him, but undaunted, I ventured a guess, “She wanted to be cremated?”

  Fidgeting with the papers again, he said, “Um, kind of.” He looked like he was going to pass out.

  Envisioning him falling backward in a faint because he had become so pale, I started to sit up. To his credit, he didn’t lose total control of his senses, but it was maddening the way he was looking at me. What the heck had him so tongue tied? For goodness sakes, why can’t this man just speak the words? My blood pressure felt like it was rising with every moment, and I just wanted to scream at him to spit it out. It took every muscle in my body and ounce of fortitude I had, not to lean over the desk, grab him by the front of his shirt, and shake him. Could he make this any more uncomfortable for me? Moments seemed like eternity as I waited for him to come to grips with what he needed to tell me. Finally, at the end of my rope, I took a deep breath and stated as calmly as I could, “Listen, Mr. Jacobs, this is going to take an extraordinary amount of time if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, he blurted, “She wants to be cremated and buried as part of a tree!” This statement was followed with a nervous laugh. It was almost as if he vomited the words, they came out so fast. Was I hearing things?

  “What???” As the words finally registered, an abbreviated laugh erupted from somewhere inside the room. Realizing it was me, I asked, “You’re kidding, right? I mean, is that even possible?”

  “No, ma’am! I mean, Yes, ma’am!” More fidgeting, “I mean, I’m sorry to say that I’m not kidding.”

  Placing my hand on my face and sighing heavily, I looked up at the ceiling. My inner thoughts raced, Dammit, Andrea! When did you decide this? We had talked about this stuff a little when Mom disappeared, but I really hadn’t wanted to discuss it and this tree thing was just weird, even for her. To Mr. Jacobs, I calmly replied, “Well, this is something new then. However, even though I’m surprised by her decision, it seems like something she’d come up with. I suppose you have all of the pertinent information? Such as what I’m supposed to do with the tree or what the name of the company is that does this work?” Shaking my head, “You know this is ridiculous, right? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “I understand. It’s something fairly new and a company right here in Colorado has pioneered a way to turn the ashes into a biodegradable tree base that works to fertilize the tree while allowing the person to support the regrowth of the dwindling forestry in the world. It’s an interesting prospect.” Handing me a brochure with the picture of a tree on the front, he spoke in a reserved tone, “I’ve set everything up, but you could cho
ose another option since it’s something fairly new. There are no stipulations in the will about following this request.”

  Slightly stunned that the solicitor would suggest not following the will, I asked, “Why would I do that? If she wants to be a tree then far be it for me to stop that from happening. This is what she wants, right?”

  He nodded begrudgingly. “It’s just not something traditional. Are you sure? I mean, what will people say?”

  Now a little perturbed by his judgment of my sister, my defenses rose, “Well, I’m not worried about what others will say. Besides, it’s what she wanted. As for Dylon, I will have him buried with his father. I presume you took care of Andrea’s cremation?”

  “Yes. I’ll call Olmeyer's and have them prepare the casket for Dylon and set up his headstone. Do you want Dylon in the same plot with his headstone next to Jaxon’s?”

  “That’s fine.” Flipping through the brochure, “Mr. Jacobs, did you do any research on this company to determine if they’re on the up and up?” Looking out the window over his left shoulder, I could see that Kelsey, Peanut, and Jody were on their way into the house. They appeared to be chatting about something serious. The back door opened and closed followed by the sounds of footsteps mounting the stairwell to the bedrooms above. Peanut’s little feet pitter-pattered across the floor. Peanut loved Kelsey. They were like little partners in crime. Where one went, the other followed, and vice versa. Turning a page in the brochure, I looked to Mr. Jacobs for a response.

  “Yes, I did. It’s a company that turns the ashes into a biodegradable urn which is then buried with the sapling inside. Evidently, by making sure the tree is at least two years old, it’s better able to adjust to the process of replanting. However, you can choose to get one that’s up to ten years old. The two choices that your sister specified in her will for the types of trees are, the red maple, or a pink dogwood.”

  “Of course she did, because those are my two favorite trees.” I mumbled under my breath.

  “What was that, Miss St. James?” He was looking at me with a puzzled expression.

  “Nothing.” A soft sigh escaped my lips as I glanced up from the brochure in my hands to the unassuming lawyer, asking, “She didn’t happen to mention where I’m supposed to plant this thing, did she? I mean, I'm assuming she doesn’t want it planted in the forest or something, right?”

  “She states clearly, in paragraph twenty-one, section three, that she wants the tree planted firmly in a highly visible area of the garden of your back yard where you and any of her surviving offspring may be able to, and I quote, ‘look upon it and talk to it as if I am there with you’.”

  “Alright then.” Rolling my eyes and again looking to the sky, “Andrea, I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but using my love for trees is very clever. Certain it was some kind of afterlife joke from her to me— one last prank if you will, I threatened her silently, Andrea, when you and I meet up again, I’m gonna kick your butt! A short burst of laughter erupted at the thought of getting her back, but then I sobered, recalling my setting and simply stated to the puzzled Jacobs, “Sure, Why not? Sounds like something Andrea would do.”

  “Here’s the rest of the information pertaining to the trust, the will, and all of the bank and storage information.” He laid the paperwork on the desk and pushed it toward me. “The ashes have already been placed in a temporary urn for the memorial service. They can be delivered to the company in Estes Park after the funeral. I’ve taken the liberty of contacting all friends and extended family members per the list attached to the wills.” Looking down at his side where there was a beautifully ornately embroidered deep blue velvet bag about the size of a fist, he cringed. Ashen faced and suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable again, he glanced at me while laughing shakily. It was almost like an afterthought, “Oh, I almost forgot.”

  Reaching down, picking up the bag by it’s golden draw string using his pen as if it were diseased or contaminated, he placed it on the desk in front of me and handed me a sealed envelope. My name was scrawled on the surface in what looked to be Andrea’s handwriting. Speaking rather rapidly, “Here’s something from your sister.” He stood up as if to leave, stating rather succinctly, “If there are no further questions, I’ve concluded this reading of the will.” I got the impression of a mouse trying to escape becoming dinner as he hurriedly put his things away.

  Shrugging my shoulders at his odd behavior and picking up the satchel to look inside, his eyes went as wide as saucers. Stopping in the midst of his actions, he held his hand out toward me in the fashion of a traffic cop stopping traffic, exclaiming in a squeaky voice, “Please, Miss, wait until I leave!” There was a pleading in his voice unlike anything I’d ever heard. It almost sounded as if he were frightened.

  He hurriedly explained, “Ever since Andrea and Jaxon came to my office to rewrite the will and asked me to place that thing in my safe, I’ve had relentless nightmares of my long-deceased mother-in-law.” His eyes scrunched up and he visibly shook as if he had the worst chill of his life. The way he said “thing” was as if he were talking about some odd creature. “I don’t care to see it again.”

  Somewhat startled but wanting to alleviate his fears, I gently set the satchel back on the desk, “I must profess that you’ve got my full attention and my curiosity, but out of respect for your feelings, I’ll look at it later.”

  “Thank you, Miss St. James.”

  He took his kerchief from his front pocket and wiped his now wet brow. Looking remarkably relieved he asked, “Now, I’m sorry, but do you have any questions regarding the will?”

  Staring at the satchel, wondering what could possibly have caused such a drastic reaction, I replied somewhat distractedly, “Everything seems to be covered and in order. I have no further questions, thank you.” Looking up from the desk, “I trust you’ll take care of the final arrangements for the sale of the house and sending Kelsey’s things to my home in Allyn?”

  “Yes, yes.” He replied rather hastily. “Everything’s been arranged. The real estate agent will be contacting you for the final list of things that you’d be willing to let go with the house, but I’ll be in touch with Mr. BlackFeather to finalize the trust for Kelsey. You’re allowed to go through the house and collect all of the photos and memorabilia to keep for Kelsey as well as choosing items for yourself. However, everything that’s left behind, will be sold at an auction or donated to charity.” As he made his final declarations, he finished placing his items into his briefcase and stood up. He seemed a little shaky at first but then took a deep breath and started to round the desk toward the door, all the while with his eyes on the satchel.

  Standing up, “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.” Extending my hand toward him to conclude our business.

  Eyeing my hand, he stopped and shook it vigorously, “Yes, yes. You’re welcome.” His eyes darted back to the satchel, “Again, sorry for your loss.” Turning back toward the door, he kind of scurried as if he wanted out of that room as fast as he could but didn’t want to seem offensive. Joining him in his escape from the room, which now seemed to be closing in on me, we made our way to the front door. As we walked—at a brisk pace—he said quietly, “You know, I can still contact Olmeyer's and we can just bury Andrea’s ashes in the family plot.” Looking at me out of the corner of his eye, he said, “No one will know.”

  Mid-stride, I gasped slightly at his suggestion as it really took me aback. Stopping and looking at him squarely, trying to hold back my frustration, I spoke in metered tones. “No. These are Andrea’s last wishes. I’ll honor her wishes.” Taking the last couple of steps toward the door, I turned to him, “Thank you, again.” Opening the front door, I ushered him out. “Drive safely.”

  “Good-bye, Miss St. James.” Handing me a business card, he added, “Feel free to contact me should you need anything.” He half smiled and his small eyes squinted against the bright Colorado sunshine. As he walked toward his car, he spoke to no one in particular, “Blasted confounding weat
her.” Shaking his head, he stepped into his silver Mercedes. I watched him fumble with his briefcase, start his car, put on his seatbelt and drive away.

  Glancing up at the sun briefly, then shielding my eyes, I stepped back and closed the door. My mind was racing. Good grief. A tree? What was she thinking? And what was in that satchel? As I stepped away from the door, the letter was heavy on my mind and while I couldn’t wait to read it, I was also a little afraid of what it might say. Curiosity and uncertainty did an odd waltz in my mind. Well, this ought to be interesting.

  Chapter Three

  As I closed the door, I turned to walk into the house. Contemplating going back to the study to read the letter and look into the satchel, I headed in that direction when I overheard Kelsey and Jody in the kitchen. The smell of something delicious wafted through the air. Inhaling the tantalizing aromas, I figured it must be getting close to dinner time. My hand was on the knob to the office, but I stopped, deciding to look at it later. My mind needed a break from the emotional battering it had been taking. Time for a little distraction. Releasing the door knob, I turned toward the two people who could sooth my soul and walked into the kitchen. They were placing the plates of food on the table and taking a seat next to Kelsey, and unsettling silence drifted over us as we quietly ate dinner.

  However, the entire time, all I could think about was that darned letter and satchel. Jody took Kelsey up to get a bath and put on her pajamas for bed. Standing next to the study door, I watched them walk up the stairs talking about which pajamas Kelsey wanted to wear. Peanut, having followed them up, stood at the top of the stairs and turned to look down at me. She whimpered as if she knew what I was about to do and I waved at her, “Go on, girl. I’ll be right there.” She stood there a moment longer, cocking her head from side to side, as if she were trying to decide whether to follow me or Kelsey. The loud giggle from the bathroom turned the tides in Kelsey’s direction, and Peanut turned to run down the hall toward the bathroom.