The Moment of Truth

He wasn’t moving to Shelter Valley as a Montford.

He was going as Josh. To accept the junior-level position his Harvard business degree had qualified him to have in the university’s business operations office.

“That’s where I’m going, sweetie,” he said. “Out to Shelter Valley, Arizona.”

He wiped away more saliva. And could hardly remember what it had felt like to kiss her lips. Wished they stood out from all of the other lips he’d kissed.

Or even that he could remember the last time he’d kissed her.

“We didn’t get to the altar, to exchange our vows.” He bowed his head. “But I’m promising something to you now. I will change my ways, become more aware of those around me and do what I can to make this world a better place.”

He wasn’t actually sure if Michelle was into the whole bettering the world thing as much as the Montfords were. They’d never really gotten around to talking about it. Still, she’d been involved in charity work. He wasn’t sure how much. But during their two-year engagement, he’d accompanied her to several black-tie affairs for different causes.

He’d written generous checks.

And spent most of the evenings making business contacts. Or doing other things like planning the mountain-climbing expedition he and several of his friends had taken over Christmas the previous year.

“I’ve got a few thousand dollars with me to get started,” he told her. “I sold the Mercedes. And the 4x4. I bought a used SUV with a hitch and loaded a trailer with stuff, and that’s all I’m taking. The rest of the stuff I sold with the condo, and that money went into your trust, too. My monthly stipend will also go into the trust. It’s there for as long as you need it.

“My mother’s agreed, for the time being, not to get involved,” he said, thinking of the days ahead. “I told her I’d handle the first contact with the Arizona Montfords on my own—or I wouldn’t go. If she interferes with my life while I’m there, I’ll just move on. The point is for me to get away from here. It doesn’t matter where. She’s the one who wants me in Shelter Valley, and this is the only way I’ll do it.” There wasn’t going to be any big family reunion   in the near future.

What his mother didn’t know was that his “visit” with the Montfords was going to be short and sweet. He wasn’t one of them.

He was starting a new life. Not going on vacation. He was going to live like a regular guy. One who had to work and sweat and save. One who was humbled enough to pay attention to the people around him. He couldn’t do that if his old life followed him. Making things easy for him.

“Sweetie? Michelle? Is there anything I can do, or say, anything that...”

His voice broke. Looking down, Josh breathed and waited for the emotion to pass. It always did. One of the many things he’d learned over the past couple of months.

He hadn’t meant anyone any harm. Hadn’t meant to ignore the needs of those around him. He just hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Redmond, I didn’t realize you were here. I’ll come back later....”

Sara, one of the three full-time caregivers he employed to see that Michelle had everything she could possibly need, stepped back through the archway leading to Michelle’s bedroom.

“No, it’s okay, Sara,” he said, standing. “You can come in. I was just leaving.”

“I hear you’re leaving town, that you won’t be coming by here anymore,” the middle-aged widow said. He knew Sara best. She lived in the suite with Michelle.

“That’s right.” She could castigate him for his callousness. All Michelle had left was his visits. Her parents couldn’t bear to come. Couldn’t bear to see her this way.

And her sisters, all their friends...they considered Michelle dead and buried.

But Michelle didn’t need him there as much as the rest of them, her family included, needed him gone.

“It’s about time,” Sara said, smiling at him with a warmth he wasn’t used to seeing. People in his world banked their emotions, their expressions, showing the world a blankness that preserved their ability to walk in and out of rooms, do the business they’d come to do, without drama.

Or shame.

Without anyone getting one up on them—or being able to manipulate them.

Their walls protected their reputations.

And they protected the money.

The gray-haired woman moved quietly to Michelle’s side, running her fingers tenderly through the young woman’s hair. “We’ll be just fine without you,” she said. “Missy here has no idea you’re killing yourself over something you didn’t do. She ordered those drinks and she drank them. You wasn’t even in the same room as her. And she gets no benefit from these visits. But you...you’ve got a whole life to live. Things to do and people to help. It’s time for you to let go.”