Thrown Away/Twisted Roots

Chapter 1 5.9

June 2011, Portland, Oregon

Chapter 1

Casey smoothed her hands down the sides of her new black dress. Around her, friends and coworkers of her mother’s stood in small groups speaking in low voices. At times a soft laugh could be heard above the low murmur only to be cut short. She glanced in the mirror as she passed by. Her wild, red, curly hair had been tamed into a knot at her nape. She made a face at the tendrils and short 'springers', her mother had called them, escaping captivity.


In her twenty-eight years, she'd wanted to cut her hair twice, but Diane hugged her and said it was her crown and glory. Now her mother was dead.


The reception after Diane's funeral was well attended. It was expected, at least that’s what Marilyn told Casey as they planned the funeral service. She’d been surprised when some of the guests arrived with platters and dishes of food. The caterers smiled and seemed to know what to do with them as they disappeared into the kitchen.


Casey clung to the door frame, clueless about the tradition and what to expect. Her Aunt Tammy passed away two years before. She'd been cremated and the urn set into a mausoleum plot. Had it been just two years ago? How fast time flew. There had been a short memorial service. Her Aunt's eclectic friends filed by her and her mother offering their condolences at the grave site. She and Diane went home and life went back to normal.


“Come on, Honey, some of the guests are leaving.” Marilyn, her mother's best friend and hers, took her arm and guided her to the door. Casey accepted hugs as the guests made their way past her to the large front porch. When the last of the guests left, Marilyn turned. “Well, that’s done. I think it all went quite well, don’t you?”


Casey nodded she watched as Marilyn poured herself a large glass of iced tea. Then moved to the overstuffed chair in the living room and sink into its depth. She waved her hand for Casey to join her.


Casey made a circuitous journey touching some of her mother's favorite pieces set around the room. She poured a glass of iced tea, then set it on the table to pick up a small sandwich from the platter, not yet removed. She took a bite then placed it on the plate next to the glass of tea and collapsed into chair across from Marilyn.


“I know this is hard on you Honey. Losing your aunt and then two years later, your mother.” She made a clicking noise with her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “There are excellent grief therapy groups at the hospital. I’ll get you their number. Don’t shake your head. I can tell you have no idea how to handle all this, they're there to show you what to expect and equip you with what you need to make it through all this. I told Diane to take you to the group after Tammy passed. She wouldn't listen and ignored me." Marilyn leaned forward. “Casey, this isn’t some walk in the park. I can see in your eyes you’re overwhelmed and lost. You’re trying to deal with all the questions on your own.” She reached her hand out. It remained alone, solitary until Casey finally put her hand out and placed it in Marilyn's hand.


They held hands for a few moments then Casey let go. “I have an appointment with the attorney tomorrow morning. He wants to read the will and get papers signed.” Exhaustion colored Casey’s voice.


“You don’t have to do that tomorrow. There isn’t a set time it needs to be done. Give yourself a few days, a week or more.” Her concerned tone wrapped Casey like a cocoon.


“I know. I’ve taken a few days off work and I didn’t want to put it off. I’ll go. It's probably just like Aunt Tams. She left everything divided between Mom and I. We signed the papers and left. Aunt Tammy wanted us to go on a trip together. ‘Go somewhere that feels safe and tell each other your secrets and desires.’ Well, that didn’t happen.” Casey snorted. In all her growing up years, vacations were few and planned with education in mind, not fun.


“I know. Diane told me what Tammy said. She said you didn’t have secrets. Did you?” She let the question hang in the air.


Casey looked up and their eyes met, “No, I didn’t keep secrets from Mom. We shared everything. We didn’t always agree, but there were no secrets.” Casey smiled remembering some of their loudly debated political discussions. They stopped short of calling each other demeaning names, but the innuendos that tainted the arguments didn’t lack for color.


“Are you going to be alright here, alone? Is there a friend you can call to come over? Have you heard from Cullen?” Marilyn sat forward on the chair. “I have something scheduled this evening. It’s been on my calendar for a long time. I’m sorry.”


“Oh, Aunt Marilyn, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I live here, remember? Yes, it's sad to be totally alone, but there were many nights, Mom wasn’t home. She went to hospital meetings, as you well know having attended the same ones, and all the other groups she joined.” Casey gave a wide yawn. “I think I’ll have a hot bath with some lavender oil and I’ll be ready to meet the attorney tomorrow.”


Tucked in her bed, a pile of wet tissues piled on the cover beside her, she dialed Cullen's number.It rang once and he picked up.


"How are you doing Honey?" His concerned voice comforted her.


"Fine. I wish you were here." She sniffled.


"I'm so sorry to have been called to a meeting. You know I wanted to be there for you. I'll be back tomorrow and we'll spend the rest of the week together."


"Okay. I have a meeting with mother's attorney tomorrow."


"Casey why did you do that? Give yourself some time. I should be there with you, to help you through it. I understand this kind of thing."


"Cullen, you're a corporate lawyer not an estate attorney." The corners of her mouth lifted and she wiped the tears gathering again.


"I know, but the law is the law. You should know your rights." He insisted. "I want to be with you. I missed out on today and it tore me up."


Casey cocked her head at this. She liked Cullen a lot. they had similar views, tastes and interests. They were friends. Maybe a bit more than friends, but neither of them had moved to make the relationship more than what it had been for the last three years. Torn up? She thought about that. He rarely showed emotion. She wasn't sure he got torn up about anything.


I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”


"Call me as soon as you leave. I want to know what he told you." His voice sounded a bit on the demanding side.


"Cullen, I'm sure it’s all just the normal stuff Mom and I went through with Aunt Tammy's will. It will all be left to me and that's it." She heard a sound almost like a sigh or was it more like an irritating breath. "It’ll be boring. You have much more exciting meetings than this one."


After a pause he spoke and she could almost see his smile. "You're right. You have a good attorney. He seemed to have it all together from what you told me after your aunt's will was read."


"It is. I'd love having you with me for support, but it's not necessary."


"I'll call you when I leave Seattle. I'll see you tomorrow. Do you want to go out to eat or will Abby make us one of her wonderful dinners?" His voice gave a lift at the end that might suggest he'd rather have the latter.


Casey loved Abby's cooking, but it seemed lately they ate at her house most evenings. Could her suspicions be unfounded or was he trying to get out of taking her out to eat.


"I'll let you know when you call."


They rang off and Casey took the mound of tissues to the trash. Once she was back in bed with the blankets making a cocoon around her body she thought back over the last year or so. Cullen Thomas. She'd met him a few years ago at a function held by the lawyer consortium in the building where she worked. On the top floor, a social cocktail party was held and he'd found her lounging in a corner. She wasn't a lawyer, yet. She'd been working at Luke Westin's office as his Girl Friday. Luke encouraged her to enter law school and now she was his paralegal. As his paralegal, she got a better paycheck and still did the same work. Cullen introduced her to his colleagues and kept her at his side for the rest of the evening. Her relationship with Cullen had become more of a convenience than romantic. She paid for some of their dinners as was their agreement. She didn't feel a man should be obligated to pay every time. Cullen accepted her offer and they divided the times he paid and she paid. Lately when it was his turn to pay, he'd managed to get Abby to cook a meal for them at home.


He'd bought new suits and even an new car. He had money, why did she feel at odds with him? She ignored the feeling and went to sleep.








The following day Casey drove downtown to her mother's lawyer's office and parked in the garage next door. Wearing the same black suit and pumps as she had for the funeral she passed the business types as they bustled past her into the lobby. Following them to the elevator, pressed the number four button in the elevator.


The lawyer's receptionist smiled and checked her computer as Casey entered.


"Welcome, Ms. Moyer. Mr. Grainger will be with you in a moment. Please have a seat. Can I bring you anything?"


Casey shook her head and sat in a chair that looked too new to have been there as long as the office had been open. She waited to be called into Mr. Grainger’s Office, flipping the pages on a magazine without seeing the pictures or printed words. Reminding herself that she'd been through this before settled the butterfly feeling in her stomach


“Ms. Moyer? Please follow me.” The woman, in an almost identical suit to her own, waited while Casey gathered her purse and moved to follow her down the hallway, lined with the past and present partners of the firm.


They didn’t speak. What would she say anyway? It wasn’t a time for light-hearted banter. The woman stopped and opened a door. It wasn’t the same one she and her mother had been in two years previous. That was across the hall.


“Come in Ms. Moyer. Please have a seat.” A tall, young man, dressed in the latest suit from Attorney-Suits-Catalog, stood holding a leather covered chair for her to sit. She bit back a smile at her humorous thought.


He pushed her chair so she was comfortably near the highly polished, cherry-stained, walnut conference table. “I’m sorry to see you under these circumstances. I saw you and your mother when you attended the reading for your aunt, two years ago. I’m so sorry for your recent loss.” He pitched his tone to the right note and the words flowed over her like a warm blanket.


She said nothing, but watched as he arranged the papers across the table from her. The woman who escorted her, sat at the end of the table with a yellow pad of paper in a leather portfolio and pen.


"First of all, I have something to clean up from your Aunt’s things.” He pushed a paper across the table. “She ordered this box to be given to you, and only you, upon the death of your mother. She must have known at her own misfortune, your mother was also suffering from cancer. Sign here,” he pointed to the little arrow sticker next to the line and took a pen from the holder for her.


“She knew?” Casey leaned forward. “My mother never told me she was dying until a year before she passed. She was taking treatment and I never knew about it until her hair began to fall out. Then she had to tell me.” Her words held a bite to them. It still hurt, her mother held her health in secret. She had been there for her sister, who went through the treatments, but she, herself, wanted no one with her or to know about it.


“Your aunt left a box for you. It was to be opened only when you were alone. “I’m sorry that’s the case today, but if you’ll sign these papers, I can release the box into your possession.” He watched her sign where the sticky arrow indicated.


He took the forms and bent to pick up a small white bankers’ box. And set it on the table next to her. Standing next to her, he watched as she broke the seals on it and lifted the lid.


Inside were journals. Her aunt always wrote in a journal. These were leather just like the ones she used. Some with a buckle to close it and some with leather strings to keep the covers from opening. She’d forgotten about them until months after her aunt died. She’d asked her mother about them. “I guess she got rid of them before she died. I haven’t seen them.


She picked up one and saw a card taped to the cover with a date, a few years before. She flipped through the pile, seeing they all had the same type of tags on the covers. “I’ll read them when I get home.” Replacing the lid she sat down again indicating him to continue.


Mr. Grainger nodded and resumed his seat. He opened the blue cover of the will and began reading. “I, Diane Marie Moyer, being of sound mind…” Casey heard the words that followed in her sub-conscience. When he got the words, “I leave all I have to Casey Lynne Moyer.” Then he went on to read the exceptions where her mother left mementos of money or personal items to Marilyn, coworkers and charities she’d supported. There wasn’t anything new or surprising in the will. When Mr. Grainger’s voice ground to a halt she began to prepare herself to leave. She had a fleeting thought. Had he said to my daughter, Casey Lynne Moyer or had she mentally filled in those words?


“Ms. Moyer, there’s one more thing.” He took a deep breath and exhaled rather loudly. She frowned and waited. “You aunt and mother came in together before your aunt passed away.” He smoothed his hand over the fat manila envelope his assistant slid across the table to him.


It looked exactly like her aunt’s journals only a smaller version. What could be so special about this one?


“Ms. Tammy pulled this journal from her bag and gave it to me telling me this was to be given to you upon her death.


“What was all this about?” She asked now curious about the leather book.


“I don’t know. To be frank there seemed to be some contention between the two. Miss Tammy handed it over. That’s not the end. Miss Diane came here shortly after that and demanded to see the journal. We didn’t want to give it to her, but called Miss Tammy who agreed she could look at it.” I left her alone for a short time and when I returned the room was empty and the book lay on the table as I’d handed it to her.”


Casey shook her head, “Now what a drama?” She knew her family. They could out act the Barrymores.


With that said, he pushed the leather journal across the desk to Casey. She untied the leather ties and opened the cover. She saw pages had been ripped from the book. In all caps and black ink were scrawled the words. CASEY, THE ONLY THING ON YOUR BIRTH CERTIFICATE THAT’S TRUE IS YOUR BIRTH DATE. I’M NOT YOUR BIOLOGICAL MOTHER.