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Neither of us said much.
The road home should have taken about twenty minutes.
Instead, Daniel drove past our neighborhood.
I looked at him.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then he turned onto a quiet road outside town.
There were no houses nearby.
No stores.
No pedestrians.
Just fields and trees stretching along both sides of the road.
I suddenly felt uneasy.
“Daniel, where are you taking me?”
He slowed the car.
Then he pulled onto the shoulder.
He put the vehicle in park.
And he looked directly at me.
“This is where you get out.”
I thought I had misunderstood him.
“What?”
He repeated it.
“The house and the business are mine now.”
I Couldn’t Understand
For a few seconds, I simply stared at him.
I had just buried his father.
I was still wearing the black dress I’d worn to the funeral.
And my son was telling me to leave the car on an isolated road.
“Daniel, what are you talking about?”
He sighed.
He sounded irritated rather than emotional.
“Dad left everything to me.”
I shook my head.
“That isn’t what he told me.”
“He changed his will.”
The words landed heavily.
My husband had never told me that.
But there was something else that bothered me.
Even if Daniel had inherited property, why was he abandoning me on the side of a road?
“I am your mother,” I said quietly.
He looked away.