Midnight Cove

I reached the main house and flung open the back sliding glass door. I stepped through the doorway into Terry’s kitchen. I scanned the place not sure what I was searching for. I spotted him, face down on the floor near the kitchen sink. I rushed to his side and nearly broke my neck. The ground was slick with blood. I looked at Terry; it looked as though he had hit his knees first and then his face. There was blood pooled around his head but it looked wrong, there was too much. The white tile floor was covered in a dark purple bloodstain. It looked like someone had spilled a bucket of paint.

I knelt by his still form. “Terry?” I said somehow hoping he was still alive. He didn’t move and I placed my hand on his back, gently shaking him. “Terry?” I said again, the tears flowing fast now. But his body was rigid and I could tell he wasn’t breathing.

A loud scream burst from me and then a sob. It sounded foreign, as if it was not me but some feral animal. I draped my body over his and gave into my grief. I don’t know how long I laid there crying on top of him, long enough that my tears became dry sobs. My eyes burned, swollen and red, and my lungs and sides ached but I couldn’t leave him. I didn’t want to let go. Terry had been as a father to me. I had never known a kinder or more gentle man than Terry. It seemed so wrong for him to die.

“Bonnie, come on honey, get up. He’s gone.” Cove. I had never before felt such a raw surge of hatred flow through me at the velvety sound of his voice. I ignored him, I wasn’t going to leave Terry. Cove reached his hand under my arm trying to help stand me up.

I yanked my arm away from his. “Get away from me, Cove!” Vehemently, I growled at him. “This is your fault,” another sob broke through me and I collapsed my upper body onto Terry’s slumped form.

“Bonnie,” Cove said again. He was trying to help, but I didn’t want his help. I didn’t want him at all.

“You get away from me,” I said, and turned around to look at him. “I hate you, Cove. I hate you!” I screamed, but I didn’t have any energy left and my voice was hoarse from all the crying. I turned back to Terry and rested my head against his back. He was cold. Cove was right, he was gone, but still I wouldn’t get up. Not yet, I couldn’t. I could sense Cove standing there debating as to what he should do. When finally, he turned and I heard his footsteps fall quietly away.

“Goodbye,” I whispered. It was for both Terry and for Cove.

Over the next few days I was in a daze. I had called the police and they dispatched an ambulance and a coroner. I had to watch them haul the only person I had resembling family, away in a body bag. There was no next of kin, no family to notify. Terry, like me, hadn’t any living relatives left, but he had friends.

It was unbelievable how many people showed up to the funeral to pay their last respects. There were silver haired old men wearing suits and beautiful women from every age group. There were young men with long hair that wore black board shorts and flip flop sandals. It was a beautiful ceremony and not a dry eye to be seen. I had Terry cremated so that his ashes could be spread at his beloved beach. We even took his favorite longboard from his tour days and set it adrift. I think he would have like that, to be one with the ocean forever.

Goodbye.

At the wake, I was approached by a very tall thin man in an expensive black suit. He didn’t look like a typical friend of Terry’s. His skin was sallow and pasty, as if he spent his whole life indoors.

“Miss Woods?” He offered me his hand to shake. His large bony hand engulfed mine. “My condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you.” He looked out of place, but he was sincere and I forced a small smile as a comforting gesture for the seemingly uncomfortable man.

“My name is Jonathan Bennett. I was Terry’s lawyer. I handled all of his affairs.” He explained. I nodded my head. Ah, that makes sense. He looked like a lawyer, very professional.

“If you have time tomorrow, I would like to meet with you at my office, if that’s alright?” He was professional, taking into consideration my state of bereavement.

“Yes, that would be fine. Where is your office located Mr. Bennett?” I couldn’t imagine what he was going to tell me.

Maybe I needed to start looking for a new apartment now that Terry was gone? That seemed fitting. When it rains it pours, but I didn’t care anymore. The thought of being homeless added little to the gaping wound in my chest where my heart once was.

“Let me give you my card.” Jonathan Bennett gave me his card. A clean, simple, white business card printed on expensive stock. It read: Law Offices of Jonathan H. Bennett. Underneath it had an address locating him in Del Mar. It was an expensive city only about a five minute drive from where I lived. Without a car though it would take me about twenty minutes on Coast Highway.

“What time should I be there?” I asked, my head down still looking at the card.

Thinking about the red bike Terry had given me had me tearing up again. I had to swallow down the feeling of loss. It was that bike that was going to get me there. The only reason I could go anywhere was because of Terry. I had to choke back the tears so I wouldn’t cry in front of this stranger.

“Is the morning okay, or we can meet in the afternoon if that doesn’t fit into your schedule.” He spoke softly. He could probably sense the waterworks about to turn on.

I shook my head softly and looked up into his large rectangular face. I took comfort in his business like manner and drew strength from it.

“No,” I said taking on an air of professionalism myself. “Morning will be fine. Eight o’clock?” If I was going to lose my place it was better to find out sooner rather than later. That way, I would at least have more time to look for a new one. Maybe Jenna would even let me crash on her couch for a few days while I tried to secure a new apartment.

The lawyer looked a little surprised. “Well, my office doesn’t open until nine.” He was hesitant, unsure if I was going to have a problem with that and obviously talking about business and time constraints at a funeral wake was an unpleasant part of his job.

“Nine o’clock will be fine.” I figured it was best to try and make it easy on him. He knew Terry, too, and there was no reason to make his job any more difficult than it had to be. It wasn’t his fault.

He had held a kind smile for me and again stuck out his hand for me to shake. “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow Miss Woods. Again, my condolences on your loss.” I didn’t say thank you this time, I only shook his hand and gave a curt nod. I watched him turn and walk out of the room, leaving me with my thoughts and my grief.

Early the next morning I arrived at his office. I walked into the small waiting room on the bottom floor of a two story business building located down the road from the racetrack. It was simple, with a few drab colored chairs lining the walls and a dark walnut stained coffee table in the center of the room.

I approached the receptionist’s desk and waited for the mousy looking young woman to notice me. She had brown hair pulled back into a severe looking bun at the base of her neck and gaudy jewelry on that looked too old for her. She couldn’t have been more than twenty five but her outfit looked as though she had raided her grandmother’s wardrobe. She peered over her thick black framed glasses at me.

“Can I help you?” She asked, but her tone hinted at her annoyance of me disturbing her. I couldn’t imagine her wanting to help anyone.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Bennett.” I said smiling. I figured, kill ‘em with kindness, maybe that would warm up her frosty glare.

“You must be Miss Woods. He’s been expecting you. Go right in.” She didn’t seem to warm up very much. She just went back to her computer work. I figured she was probably getting things in order for her day to begin.

“Thank you.” I didn’t look to see if she even acknowledged my response. I went around the counter to the dark wooden door and opened it, letting myself in.

I stood there for a moment not sure where to go. There was a hallway of doors and then a corner which I assumed lead down another hallway with probably more doors.

“Down the hall, last door on your left,” the unfriendly secretary called. I looked over at her, but she was already back to her busywork.

I took a deep breath and started walking. It wasn’t a far walk and although there were a lot of doors, the directions I was given weren’t hard to follow. At the end of the hallway there was a door with a small golden placard reading the name Jonathan Bennett. I blew out another deep breath and opened the door.

There, Mr. Bennett sat behind a large oak desk covered in paperwork. He was staring at a computer screen when I entered the room and he looked over to see who interrupted him.

“Miss Woods,” he said, smiling. He was much friendlier than his secretary. I wondered why he couldn’t find someone nicer to greet his clients. I hoped her social skills on the phone were more improved than dealing with her face to face.

“Good morning, Mr. Bennett.” I crossed the room to meet him before he could finish standing from behind the large, untidy desk. I reached my hand out not having to lean too far as his tall frame easily allowed him to take my hand to shake.

“Good morning, Bonnie. May I call you, Bonnie?” He asked politely.

“Yes, please do.” I glanced at the two chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

“Please,” he said gesturing, “take a seat.”

I eased into the plush gray chair as he, too took up his seat again, wheeling himself closer to give me his full attention. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’d like to get straight to business, as I am sure you are wondering why I called you here.” He folded his hands in front of him placing them neatly on the desktop.

“Yes, please.” I gripped the arms on the chair to brace myself for the bad news I felt coming.

“As you know, Terry Larson was a client of mine.” I nodded in acquiescence. “He had no living family and now that he has passed his estate must be bequeathed or sold off.”

“Yes, I understand.” I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“As his lawyer, it is my duty to read his last will and testament.” He lifted up a paper and started to ramble off some very confusing legal jargon I didn’t quite understand. Then, he said, “I, Terry Larson, do hereby leave my home and all of my possessions, monetary and/or otherwise to my tenant Bonnie Woods.”

Mr. Bennett paused and looked at me. I don’t know what he saw there. I felt completely numb. “There’s a personal note here for you as well, Bonnie.” And he handed me a folded piece of lined paper. I reached out to take it. My hands were trembling uncontrollably as I unfolded the note to read.

“Hey Honey,

Guess I’m gone to surf the skies now, but I want you to know, I love ya. You coming to live with me was one of the best parts of my life. I finally got to see what it felt like to have the little girl I always wanted. I don’t know if you ever felt that way about me, but having you live at my house is what finally made it a home. I want you to keep it. All the stuff I got over the years was just that, stuff. You baby girl, were the best damn woman I ever met. I will miss your smile. So don’t cry over this old beach bum too much. Remember to keep your chin up, and your toes on the edge. Gotta go catch some heavenly waves now.

I love you.

Terry”