Page 88 of Griffin
“I thought as much. I’ll go back and reinstate a no contact and ensure he’s aware and that should be the end of it. Now, on to the other things you needed. Adoption in this state is reasonably straight forward. In your case, given that there isn’t a father on Tommy’s birth certificate, and no one has claimed paternity, then if adoption is something you and Savannah want to look at, I could get the paperwork started without any delay. Did Savannah want to start that right away?”
I clench my jaw.
“She doesn’t know about it yet.” She will. I’m waiting for the right time.
“Ahhh, yeah, might be best to talk with her and see if that’s something she wants to do before we start anything.” He has slight sarcasm in his tone, lightening the mood a little.
“Anything else I need to know?”
“I have the paperwork for the trust fund for Tommy all sorted, so I’ll email that to you to review and sign. His schooling, college, his entire life will be all set up, thanks to you.”
“Good.” Not sure how Savannah will feel about that either, but it seems I’m on a roll with my lawyer now, no point stopping at criminal activities and whereabouts.
“Alright, if I find anything else, I’ll let you know. You guys coming to the kids’ baseball game on Saturday?” Sawyer's tone has moved into relaxed friend and father mode. Baseball is one of his loves, third to that of Annabelle and the boys.
“I’ll speak to Savannah.”
“Really? Shit, you are a changed man. I ask you every week and you never come. I guess it’s true what they say…”
“What who says?” I bark.
“A leopard can change its spots.” He laughs, and I hang up on him. But my lips quirk. Asshole.
I sit in silence for a moment, gathering my thoughts. The two items I gave Sawyer ran parallel in my head. I want to do right by Savannah. I want to provide, protect, and love. Tommy too. I don’t know if I can be the father figure he needs. Thinking of my own father, I hope my skills in that department are better than what I grew up with. He doesn’t even belong here. He shouldn’t be allowed to live. He should’ve rotted in jail for the rest of his miserable life.
I lean over, opening the bottom drawer of my desk, and pull out the box. A wooden box I made two decades ago and the only thing I would grab if there was a fire. But I haven’t opened it in years. Can’t. Couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t deal.
Sucking in a breath, I unlock it, the click of the small lock echoing around my quiet office. I lift the lid slowly, like danger is lurking. My head pounds, my breathing labored, and I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat as I stare at the contents.
There he is. My brother. The only photo I have of him. His hair is ruffled, because no matter how many times Mom asked him to brush it, he never did. His grin is wide, full of teeth. He had big canines, and I always teased him for being a vampire. He’s leaning over his bike. We were fixing the chains since they had come loose that day.
My eyes sting as my heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. I remember him like he was here yesterday. He’s forever ten years old to me.
I put the photo down and look at what else is in my box. One of the things not many people know about is when a kid goes into the system, they take nothing. They get driven away, placed with emergency foster parents, with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Our house was sold, bills were paid, no money, no assets, nothing. But that emergency foster carer I had for those first few nights ensured that I was brought some things from home. She could tell I was traumatized. She could tell I needed something. Anything to hang on to. I’m forever grateful to her for that. Hence why one of the first things I did when I came into some money was ensure she had some. Had my legal guy at the time deliver it to her anonymously.
Now as I pick up the small plastic green soldier, I turn it over in my palm. Tommy used to love playing soldiers. It’s what we used to do under the bed when we hid from Dad’s wrath. I would play and play and play with him, distracting him from the yelling downstairs. Couldn’t hear the shattered glass as they broke against the wall. The slamming of the front door, the car as it screeched down the street. I did anything I could to make sure he wasn’t affected by having a drunk as a father, but I failed him in every way when he paid the ultimate price.
That’s something I’ll never forgive myself for.
I look at the gold watch at the bottom of the box and gently pull it out. It hasn’t been touched in years. I haven’t picked it up, haven’t wanted to. This watch rested around my mother’s wrist. I turn it over, inspecting the back, seeing it etched with her initials. It feels smaller now, lighter, and I try to imagine it around her wrist, my mother a dainty woman. Her wrists were tiny, if this watch is anything to go by.
“What you doin’?”
I look up, startled, seeing Savannah leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
“You creeping again?” I blow out a breath, smiling at her.
“No… I wanted to see if you were ready for dinner, but I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked… like you were concentrating pretty hard.” She steps into my office tentatively. “What’s that?” she asks, looking down at the gold watch in my hand, and my chest aches.
“It was my mother’s.” I admit, feeling lighter the minute the words leave me.
“Your mom’s?”
“Yeah, the only thing I have left of hers.” I lift it and pass it to her, and she takes it gently from my hand, looking at it, carefully handling one of the most precious things I own.
“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly, giving it back.
I reach back into the box. “This is my brother Tommy.” Clearing my throat, I lift the photo to her and watch her take it.
