Chapter 98

The end of March brought other concerns. Carol's term as First Wife expired, and she was over six months pregnant, showing hugely. The other two had started showing as well, being well past their first trimester, Diane two weeks ahead of Riekie. Their prenatal appointments showed all three were progressing normally. There is always a concern when twins are expected, and they are always a little nervous of women over thirty five, but My Girls had the physiology of women in their early twenties, according to the family doctor, so there were no complications expected.

Carol had done such an excellent job as First Wife, I thought she should keep it, but as that was the purview of the wives themselves, I wisely (Call that enlightened self-interest!) kept that opinion to myself. I needn't have worried or become concerned. Riekie and Diane were obviously of the same opinion, electing her to the post permanently, subject to an annual review every March. They did come up with the idea of a Vice, to cover if/when Carol became incapacitated. Guess who they elected? Me!

Their reasoning was simple. When the three of them told me their decision, Carol explained it to me. "David, our Husband. Our wives and I talked about this a lot, and we spoke with Mom and the aunts. You already fill a sort of executive position within the family. We tend in some ways to be traditionalists, and one of those traditional things we've all just assumed, without discussion, is that you are the Head of the Household.

"As Head of the Household, everything that needs doing on the outside of the house, or anything that is technical, is your responsibility by default. You run the farm. Nobody questions that. You look after the everyday maintenance of the house, inside and out. Again, nobody questions that. You seem to know when we need to make major purchases, and go ahead with it, only consulting us on cost and what style or colour, if it's important, we would like best. We all just assumed you to be the liaison with the contractor for the new house.

"For the next year, at least, you will be around home all the time. As Head of the Household, you're a natural to step in temporarily as First Wife. Now, when we talked to Mom about it, she agreed, so it's not like we've considered this lightly. We also decided that either one of us can delegate that responsibility onto one of the other Wives if the need arises. So, Husband of Ours, congratulations, you're the Vice First Wife. Tee-hee."

"OK."

Rule Two: Don't argue with pregnant ladies — you might piss them off (See Rule One).

I got loved almost to paralysis that night. See? Obey the Rules, and all will be well. Really.

With construction of the house well under way and the wives capably supervising the job simply by keeping the crew fed and watered (Showing up as the beautiful women they were, even very pregnant, didn't hurt either... ), it was time for Dad and me to start building fence.

Paul helped when he could, but he was away frequently sorting out his and the aunts' business affairs. They still hadn't decided if they were going to live in his house, or sell it and find something closer to us. They had an indefinite welcome at my parents' so there was no rush to move. Jo had started to show as well — they wanted to be near Mom and Riekie for all their help, and of course Jo had to see our doctor on a regular basis. Given her age, they were paying particularly close attention to her health and that of her child.

Dad and I, with Paul's occasional help, started stringing fence. Again, I could now afford to have Barrett's come in and do a professional job but doing it yourself can be so much more rewarding. We rented a small posthole auger, bought the posts, wire and insulators we needed, and got on with the job. Our only criteria for completion was to have it done by late May, when the pasture would be grown up sufficiently to put stock on it. My friend, Bob, who also raised horses, dropped by several times to help out. He had some good advice, based on experience, and the people at Barrett's were extremely helpful as long as we bought most of our supplies there.

The fencing job went relatively smoothly, and we had it finished well ahead of our May deadline. We ran double strand high tensile wire around the entire pasture, and sectioned it off so we could isolate areas for re-growth. I bought the best electric fence power unit I could get, and got a spare, as they tend to be vulnerable to lightning. I had considered a solar powered unit, but they were just coming on the market then, and none were heavy enough for what I intended.

With the fence in place and working, the next priority was reliable sources of water for the stock in each isolatable section. A simple solution presented itself. The lower pasture had a pond that Dad had dug for the cattle many years ago, but it had silted in. Half a day with a small bulldozer soon had it open and water flowing. Fortunately, this section could be isolated. If the horses were grazing it, they had access to water. The upper half of the pasture had a well. We ran an electrical service to it and set up a stock tank with a float mechanism that filled it from a submersible pump in the well. Now we had fenced pasture, reliable water in both halves, but no stock.

Acquiring the stock was our next priority. After all, that's what the whole exercise was about. I had already done the research, and knew approximately what Canadien horses were worth. Finding some for sale could pose a problem, although I did have some leads. Again, Bob, with his contacts in the horse world, was of immense help. We decided to start with two mares, and board a couple of Bob's geldings, plus a two year old Percheron filly of my own currently boarding at his place.

Shopping for the two Canadien mares took less time than I thought. We got them for a decent price, and even acquired semen from two studs as part of the package, allowing one to be bred twice and the other three times once we established them and decided on a breeding programme. We found them in a small village near Kemptville, in the heart of Ontario's Canadien country. The seller agreed to hold them until our pasture grew up enough to carry them.

Near the end of April, we received by registered mail an ominous looking envelope addressed to Mr.Dave Lloyd, Mrs. Carol Lloyd, and Mrs. Riekie Lloyd from a lawyer's office in Florida. The names on the envelope threw us for a bit of a loop. Knowing only one person who might possibly retain a lawyer in Florida, we were more than just a little nervous at opening it, fearing a lawsuit over the injury inflicted when I struck the bastard in a fit of rage at his treatment of Riekie. The Mounties and MP's were still looking for him, but for some unknown reason had not extended their enquiries into the U.S., even though I had suggested he might be there.

We hesitated to open it, but when we did, inside was a letter from the lawyer, a cashier's cheque made out to the three of us for over five hundred thousand USD, and a copy of a death certificate from the State of Florida. With the exchange at the time, the amount of the cheque came to over six hundred thousand Canadian. The lawyer's letter explained that Mr. Robert Scott had passed away in February of 'natural causes' and we were named among the heirs to his estate. It turned out we weren't the only heirs to receive a cheque, but ours was the largest. Each of the boys, Bob, Iain, and Sandy got something. Even the aunts were remembered. Imagine!

Along with the lawyer's letter was a letter addressed to the girls and me from their father. We were loathe to read it at first, but curiosity killed the cat, as they say. We were completely unprepared for the content of that letter. It was dated last December.

My dear Daughters, Carol and Riekie, and your Husband, Dave:

My doctors have informed me I have little time left in this world. No, it has nothing to do with the injuries I received at your hands, Dave, although I dare say you might wish it so, and probably correctly. It appears that the last number of years of living a dissolute lifestyle have finally caught up with me, and I am dying of cirrhosis with complications of an enlarged heart. I have been given only a few months to get my affairs in order and make my peace with the world. This letter is an attempt at that.

I do not ask for understanding for my actions of the past, but I do ask that you might possibly consider forgiveness, although I completely understand if you find that to be impossible.

My actions toward the three of you were totally reprehensible. No father should ever touch his daughters or treat them in the way in which I did you, Carol and Riekie. The hatred I incurred in you toward me is of my own doing, and I will have to bear the punishment for it after I am gone. Perhaps my God will forgive me. I have asked, and He is said to be a God of forgiveness. I will find out soon enough.

I know I cannot see you, and talk to you as I would like. My sources tell me the three of you are well on your way to reconciliation and it will be complete by the time you receive this. I have instructed my lawyers to address any correspondence with you accordingly. My sources also inform me that you, Carol, are finally with child by Dave. Dolly would be so pleased to know that. I deeply regret she did not live to see it.

Congratulations, my children.

I wish now I had known all those years ago that the three of you had entered into a matrimonial agreement. I would not have approved, assuredly, but it would have curtailed my other actions. At the very least, I know now that I did you grievous injury, and the depth of that injury. It cost me the love and respect of all my children, and the chance of ever seeing and holding my grandchildren. I cost you the opportunity to have them while still in the prime of your youth. Riekie, although it pained me, you did right to ensure your twins never got to know me.

Carol, I crushed the flower of your youth and almost irreparably damaged your very soul. Riekie, I destroyed the joy of your chosen career, and probably damaged your soul as well. Dave, I destroyed everything you ever hoped and dreamed for. For that, there can be no forgiving. I understand. It is your love alone, which I am humbled by, as has allowed you to survive and has brought you back together. Please do not allow anyone or anything to separate you ever again.

When I saw you and Dave together in September, Carol, I finally understood the love that you share, and was astounded that it was still so strong after all those years. When told that you, Riekie, were a part of that love, my heart finally broke, and I fully comprehended the injury I perpetrated on you all. Carol, in some ways I wish you had let Dave finish the job he started that day, although like you, I would not want him to get in trouble with the law over me.

I know there is nothing I can do to undo the wrongs I have committed against the three of you, but in my own way, I must try to at least partially atone for what I did. My estate is not large by most standards, but of what I have, I leave you the largest portion. Each of my children will get something, but you three will get the bulk of it. It pales beside the injuries I caused you, but is the least I can do. I wish I could do more to prove my sincerity, but my time has almost run out. Please use it to enhance your lives and ease the pain I have caused.

It is not enough — words never are — but from the depths of my worn out heart, I humbly apologize to you all and though I do not deserve it, I beg your forgiveness.

In mortal sadness, Carol, Riekie, and yes, Dave, I love you all,

Robert Scott Sr.

Stunned silence. That's all there was after we read that letter. Carol finally broke down and cried. I was in shock.

Riekie fumed, totally unimpressed by the apology, consumed by twenty years of hate and hurt. "The effrontery of that goddamn asshole! He thinks he can buy our forgiveness! He had to literally be on his deathbed with the fear of his God in him before he'd admit he did anything wrong! Well, at least we know for sure the son of a bitch is gone, and can't hurt us anymore! I still say there's a special place reserved for him in Hell! Good riddance!" Then she too, broke down and wept, mourning not the loss of her father, but her lost innocence. I thought Carol's weeping derived from similar thoughts.

Carol, through her tears, agreed. "The only good thing I see from this is that now I know for sure he can't hurt me anymore and I'll never have to face him. I feel so relieved! I don't want his money! It's a pittance for what he put us through! Can we send it back?"

I said little. What could I? I felt as if my great enemy had slipped from my grasp before I could exact retribution. I felt hollow, empty. All I was able to do was gather my wives in my arms and hold them. My only words: "It's over now. Finally."

We found out the aunts received a similar letter with their small share of his estate. They tended to be more magnanimous, and accepted his apology, for their own peace of mind, saying it gave them a sense of closure. I knew it might be years before my wives and I could reach their state of grace. The pain was still too fresh, the damage too immediate.

We took the cheque to our legal team, and asked them what we should do with it after explaining to them what that man had done to us. The girls said they didn't want his 'blood money' contaminating what they had worked so hard for, and that Ben had left us out of love. Emotions were so high the legal team had few options. After reading the letter, they finally took the cheque for us, and put it in a special separate account.

Our lawyer asked. "Is there anything — anything at all — you could use this money for that would help assuage the pain of the injuries he caused you?"

The girls could think of nothing, and vehemently decried using it at all, except charity. As we already donated heavily to charities through our investment plan, I didn't think that was necessary. However, I did have an idea they might accept if presented properly. I told the lawyer to leave it with me while I thought about it. When we got home, I gathered all three wives to me, and pitched my idea. Diane thought it would be a good use for such a windfall that we otherwise didn't need. Carol and Riekie at first wanted nothing to do with this 'blood money' as they kept calling it.

I asked them then, what was the very first hurtful thing they recalled that man doing to them that fateful summer. They thought about it, and then Riekie sighed. "He got his face in a knot and needlessly ruined our summer by bringing us back to town. I hated him for it." Carol, remembering what she told me she and Riekie had done that summer, thought a few more minutes and agreed.

I pitched my idea. "What if we could have, not that summer, but all the ones from now forward? Why not use his money to preserve wonderful memories and build new ones? What we'll be preserving can't be sullied by him, or his money, and in a way it's fitting. He took it away once, but now will be responsible for preserving it for all time."

Carol asked incredulously, "David, can you do this? Can you make it happen?"

"Carol Anne, it will only take a phone call to find out for sure."

Riekie's only comment now was, "Do it, David. That would be like rubbing the old bastard's nose in it. Do it."

I dug a dog-eared paper out of my wallet, and called the number on it. This was an idea I'd had for months, but never thought I'd have the resources to pursue it until Ben left us the bulk of his estate. I had thought to use some of that, but this windfall was even more appropriate to the task.

The phone was answered on the second ring by a pleasant sounding male voice. I introduced myself and why I was calling. The nice man on the other end was very helpful. He said he'd find out the information I wanted, and call me back within a few days. I left him our number and mailing address in case he wanted to send us any documentation. He sounded hopeful. At the news, my wives brightened up and were the happiest they'd been since we received that fateful letter from their now dead father. There's nothing like a determined course of action to get people moving forward.

A few days later, I received a call from the nice man. He said everything I wanted was available if we could negotiate a price. I asked what the starting price was. He gave me the numbers. The prices he quoted were more than fair. I didn't haggle, and told him to start the proper legal proceedings at his end. He would hear from my lawyers shortly. I wanted this done as quickly as possible. I called our legal team straightaway and explained what we wanted to do with Scott's money, and how much it would cost. I gave them the name and number of the nice man, and told them to contact him or his lawyer, however it worked, and to close the deal ASAP for the quoted prices.

By the end of May, the deal closed. The Alpha Project members were now the proud owners of the old cottage, and the derelict farm containing Riekie's road and the old barn. Scott, in a pique, had ruined their last summer there, now he paid for preserving our dearest and most sacred memories. Fitting, eh?