I sat in the living room with my walker beside me.
The house was quiet.
I could hear a car passing outside.
Every time an engine slowed near the driveway, I looked toward the window.
I didn't know what Kevin would say.
I didn't know whether he would apologize.
But I knew he would ask about the money.
He had called Frank early that morning.
He had described something left in the trunk as personal papers.
That meant he knew something had been found.
Perhaps he had remembered the package.
Perhaps he had seen the towel when he opened the trunk before selling the car.
I couldn't know.
But I wasn't going to let him take anything else from me.
I reached for the telephone.
For several minutes, I considered calling the police.
Then I stopped.
I wanted to know exactly what Kevin intended to do.
I also wanted someone else to know what had happened.
So I called Mrs. Collins.
She answered quickly.
"Peggy?"
"Could you come over for a few minutes?"
"Of course. Is something wrong?"
I looked toward the bedroom cabinet.
"Kevin is coming."
There was a pause.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
"Yes, please."
She said she would be there shortly.
I hung up.
Then I sat back.
I remembered how Kevin used to be when he was young.
He had been a cheerful little boy.
He used to run into the house after school and drop his backpack beside the kitchen table.
He would tell me everything.
What happened in class.
Who had argued with whom.
What he wanted for dinner.
Walt would listen while pretending to read the newspaper.
Sometimes he would lower it just enough to smile at me.
We had been happy.
Not rich.
Not perfect.
But happy.
I wondered when things had changed.
Maybe it had happened slowly.
Maybe I had ignored too many small warnings.
When Kevin was younger, I helped him because that was what parents did.
When he was older, I continued helping because I thought he needed me.
Eventually, helping became something he expected.
And refusing became something he resented.
The doorbell rang.
I looked toward the entrance.
It was Mrs. Collins.
She came inside carrying a small container.
"I brought you some soup."
I smiled.
"That's kind of you."
She placed it on the kitchen counter.
Then she noticed my face.
"What's happened?"
I told her about Frank.
I told her about the money.
And I told her Kevin was on his way.
Mrs. Collins listened carefully.
When I finished, she looked toward the bedroom.
"Is the money safe?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She sat beside me.
"Peggy, you shouldn't have to deal with this alone."
I looked down at my hands.
"I know."
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she asked whether Kevin had ever done something like this before.
I hesitated.
I didn't want to make my son sound worse than he was.
But I also didn't want to lie.
"He has borrowed money from me many times."
"Has he paid it back?"
"Sometimes a little. Usually nothing."
She shook her head.
I continued.
"I kept thinking he would get himself together."
Mrs. Collins looked at me gently.
"He's old enough to know better."
I knew she was right.
But hearing another person say it made the truth harder to avoid.
I told her about the spare house key.
Kevin still had it.
I had given it to him for emergencies.
Mrs. Collins looked toward the front door.
"Do you want to change the locks?"
I hadn't thought about that.
Not until she mentioned it.
I looked at the small brass key hanging on the hook beside the kitchen.
Kevin had a copy.
He could enter my house whenever he wanted.
The thought made me uncomfortable.
"Perhaps I should."
Mrs. Collins nodded.
"You can decide that after today."
I looked at the clock.
The hour was almost up.
I went to the cabinet and checked the package once more.
The bag was still there.
The towel was still wrapped around it.
I closed the cabinet.
Then I returned to my chair.
Mrs. Collins remained beside me.
I was grateful she hadn't asked me to calm down.
I was tired of people telling me how I should feel.
At seventy-nine, I had earned the right to be upset.
A little before ten, a vehicle stopped outside.
I heard the engine shut off.
Then came footsteps.
I looked at Mrs. Collins.
She didn't move.
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Then again.
I took a slow breath.
I pushed myself up with the walker.
Mrs. Collins stood too.
"Do you want me to answer?"
"No."
I wanted to open the door myself.
Not because I was strong.
I wasn't.
Because I wanted Kevin to see me standing there.
I reached the entrance.
I unlocked the door.
Kevin was on the porch.
He looked past me immediately.
"Hi, Mom."
I didn't move aside.
"Hello, Kevin."
He glanced at Mrs. Collins.
"What's she doing here?"
"She came to visit."
He looked uncomfortable.
Then his eyes moved toward the living room.
"Can we talk?"
I stepped back enough to let him enter.
He walked inside.
His eyes went around the room.
He noticed the table.
The chairs.
The little cabinet near the bedroom.
Then he looked at me.
"Did somebody come here?"
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Yes."
Kevin swallowed.
"Who?"
"A man named Frank."
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
He knew exactly who I meant.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Kevin Walked Into My House Expecting to Find an Empty Bag, but He Found Me Waiting Instead
I Came Home From Three Weeks of Recovery and Found an Empty Driveway Where My Car Had Always Been
Part 6 of 20
