PART6

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. A signature dispute and an unauthorized property lien need to be addressed immediately. I can’t promise what the lender’s position will be, but we have steps we can take.”

She made several phone calls while I sat in her office.

By the time I left, she had given me a list of documents to gather.

She also told me to change every password connected to my pension, banking, email, and personal accounts.

“One more thing,” she said.

I stopped at the door.

“Don’t sign anything Alden gives you. Not even something he says is just a formality.”

I nodded.

“Thank you.”

Rebecca looked at me with kind eyes.

“Joanne, you have spent a long time believing that keeping peace means keeping quiet. But protecting yourself isn’t creating trouble.”

I carried those words home with me.

Alden was waiting at the kitchen table.

He had made coffee.

There were two cups.

It almost looked like an ordinary morning.

“Where have you been?”

“Seeing a lawyer.”

He pushed his chair back.

“You actually did it?”

“Yes.”

He stood up.

“Joanne, I told you I could handle this.”

“And I told you I didn’t believe you.”

He walked around the table.

“That lawyer is going to fill your head with nonsense.”

I set my purse down.

“She asked me for the original loan documents.”

He went quiet.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know how my signature got on them.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“They’re probably at the bank.”

“Then we’ll get them.”

“Joanne, you don’t understand. If the lender finds out there’s a problem, they’ll call the whole loan due.”

I stared at him.

“Then perhaps you should have thought about that before using my name.”

He sat down heavily.

For a moment, he looked like the man I had married.

The young truck driver who used to bring me wildflowers from the roadside.

The man who once drove forty miles in the middle of the night because I had a fever.

I remembered those things.

And that was the hardest part.

Because people aren’t always terrible every minute of every day.

Sometimes they give you beautiful memories and spend the rest of their lives making you doubt yourself.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

I nodded.

“Maybe you didn’t. But you did.”

He looked at the coffee.

“I thought you’d understand.”

I almost whispered my answer.

“I spent forty-five years understanding you, Alden. When was the last time you tried understanding me?”

He didn’t respond.

Three days later, Rebecca called.

“Joanne, we received preliminary information from the lender.”

I sat down.

“What did you find?”

“The loan application was submitted through a company connected to your nephew-in-law’s trucking business. The property was listed as security.”

“Can they show who signed it?”

“They’re sending the file to us. There’s something else.”

“What?”

“The notary listed on the document says she has no memory of meeting you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Does that mean someone forged it?”

“It means we have serious questions. We need the original documents and a proper signature examination before drawing a final conclusion.”

I thanked her and hung up.

Then I called Alden.

He answered after the fourth ring.

“What?”

“Did you take me to a notary eighteen months ago?”

Silence.

“Alden?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Because the notary says she doesn’t remember meeting me.”

He sighed.

“Maybe I handled the paperwork.”

“How?”

“I took care of everything.”

“Did you sign my name?”

His voice became sharp.

“Don’t start accusing me of crimes, Joanne.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

He hung up.

I sat there looking at the phone.

And I knew I had to find out exactly what he’d done.

That afternoon, Miriam came over with a basket of fresh eggs.

She found me at the kitchen table surrounded by papers.

“Good heavens, Joanne. Are you opening a law office?”

I laughed weakly.

“Feels like it.”

She sat down.

I told her everything.

When I finished, she was quiet for a long time.

Then she said, “There’s something I think you should know.”

I looked up.

“What?”

“Brenda came to our house last month.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to know whether we’d signed a lease with you.”

I frowned.

“Why would she care?”

Miriam hesitated.

“She asked how much we were paying. Then she asked whether we intended to stay longer than one year.”

“That sounds like Brenda.”

“Joanne, she also asked whether the pasture had ever been used as collateral for a loan.”

My stomach tightened.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her it was none of my business. But she looked worried.”

I leaned back.

“Do you think she knew about the loan?”

Miriam nodded.

“I think she knew more than she was telling you.”

I looked out the window toward the pasture.

Alden had always told me his sisters were my family.

He’d said we were all supposed to help each other.

But now I wondered whether helping each other had always meant me sacrificing something.

Miriam squeezed my hand.

“Whatever happens, Joanne, you won’t be alone.”

I looked at her.

And for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

The following week, Rebecca received the complete loan file.

She asked me to come to her office immediately.

When I arrived, she had several documents spread across her desk.

“Joanne, I want you to look at this.”

She handed me a photocopy.

It was a bank transfer record.

The $186,400 had not gone directly to Alden’s nephew’s trucking company.

A large portion had been transferred to an account belonging to Brenda.

I stared at the page.

“Why would the money go to Brenda?”

Rebecca pointed to another document.

“That’s what we’re trying to establish. There are several transfers. We need to trace them carefully.”

I turned the page.

There was a transfer for $42,000.

Another for $18,500.

Another for $31,000.

And then I saw something that made my hands go cold.

A payment of $12,800.

The exact amount Alden had paid for his zero-turn mower.

I looked at Rebecca.

“Is that what I think it is?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

“We need to confirm the recipient, but the date and amount match the mower purchase you told me about.”

I stared at the paper.

The mower.

The one he had driven around the front pasture like a parade float.

The one he had bought while telling me we couldn’t afford a new water heater.

I felt sick.

Rebecca placed another document in front of me.

“This is a statement from the account that received part of the loan.”

I read the name.

Brenda Kittle.

Then I noticed the handwritten note attached to the transfer.

It said:

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART7…