“She asked that her will be read today,” he replied. “In the presence of her family. And in the presence of her husband.”
A hush fell over the church. Phones rose discreetly. Whispers stopped.
Brandon jaw tightened. Tiffany hand squeezed his arm.
Mr. Lawson opened the folder.
“There is a personal statement written by Abigail,” he said. “In her handwriting. Dated three weeks before her death.”
Brandon stood abruptly.
“This is a joke,” he snapped. “She never wrote anything like that.”
Mr. Lawson raised one hand slightly.
“Please sit,” he said. “Everyone deserves to hear her voice.”
Brandon slowly sat, breathing hard.
Mr. Lawson began to read.
“If you are hearing this, I am no longer alive. Brandon, I know about Tiffany. I have known for longer than you think.”
Gasps moved through the church like wind through tall grass. My mother covered her mouth. My father stared forward, stunned.
Brandon face lost color.
“I tried to forgive you for our child sake,” the letter continued. “But each lie made me feel smaller in my own home. So I prepared for a future where I may not be here.”
Mr. Lawson paused only once to adjust his glasses.