The Secret Manuscript (6 page)

“Mr. Owen,” a
man’s voice said.

Ben turned
around and saw a dapper man dressed in a navy pinstripe suit. He
approached Ben with an extended palm.

“Gary Windsor,
pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi,” Ben said
with as much confidence as a lost puppy.

“How was the
trip?” Gary asked, leading Ben into his office.

“It was good,
I guess.”

The office was
nothing like the process server’s in Cold Lake. For starters, it
was nearly four times the size and was kept immaculate. Everything
seemed much more high-end from the various art pieces, the imported
rug, and of course the furniture. There were even a few more framed
degrees hanging on the wall.

“Did Wendy
offer you a beverage?” the lawyer asked.

“Yes, she did,
thanks,” Ben said, holding up his water.

With his
clothes still smelling like a campfire, Ben sat hunched over in the
lawyer’s office waiting to become the benefactor of some mysterious
inheritance. Until Ben actually saw the documents, he would not
fully believe it was true. After all, he kept asking himself why
some stranger would leave him with his entire estate. The whole
thing was a little surreal, but Ben had nothing to lose and a lot
to gain.

“Let’s get
started, shall we?” the lawyer asked, placing a file folder on the
desk.

“So you said
you have never heard of Charles Gringer?” the lawyer asked out of
curiosity.

“Is that a
problem?”

“No, not at
all. I was just making conversation.”

“Before I
spoke with you, I had never heard the name Charles Gringer before
in my life.”

“He obviously
knew you.”

“Is this type
of thing common… you know, where someone leaves their estate to a
complete stranger.”

“Well, not
quite like this. We get the odd case every now and again where
people donate their estates to charities. This is kind of the same
thing, except you are the sole benefactor.”

“Is there any
more information in your file regarding why he chose me?”

“No, there’s
nothing to explain Mr. Gringer’s motivation for doing what he did.
Maybe he’s your long-lost relative.”

Ben did not
say anything.

“Alright, why
don’t we start with the big one?” the lawyer said as he slid the
first document in front of Ben to sign.

“What’s this?”
Ben asked.

“This is the
title transfer document for Mr. Gringer’s house. I just need you to
read it over and sign at the bottom.”

Ben did as he
was instructed. As a first timer in this kind of situation, he
relished the opportunity to ask a lot of questions and learn as
much as possible. With each answer from the lawyer, Ben did his
best to comprehend, but was not educated enough to grasp
everything. In those instances, he just nodded and then signed the
rest of the documents that were slid in front of him.

At the end of
the process, the lawyer asked Ben if he had any final questions.
Ben had none. They both stood up and the lawyer walked Ben back to
the main entrance of the firm.

“Take care of
yourself, Mr. Owen,” the lawyer said as he shook Ben’s hand. “My
card is in the folder; don’t hesitate to call me if you need
anything.”

“Thanks.”

Ben left the
law firm and rode the elevator back down to the lobby. He could
hardly contain his excitement and nearly shouted at the top of his
lungs. He never thought in his wildest imagination he would become
a debt-free homeowner at the age of twenty-four. He continued to
pull his luggage across the lobby and through the spinning
doors.

Once outside,
Ben was hit by the intense summer heat of the sun overhead. The
rays were radiating off the glass building and amplifying the
temperature. Ben removed his hoody and shoved it into his bag. He
then walked to the curb to look for a taxi.

While waiting
on the street, Ben thought he heard someone call his name from a
distance. There were several reasons why Ben chose to ignore the
sound, the most prominent of those being that he did not know
anyone in Calgary.

“Ben,” the
voice said again, this time much closer.

Ben had no
choice but to acknowledge the speaker. When he turned around, much
to his surprise, he was staring at the face of a long-lost friend.
Ben was completely caught off guard. He thought he had left his
past behind him, but apparently it was harder to escape than he had
realized. He had been in Calgary for only a few hours and already
he bumped into someone he knew.

“Kyle,” Ben
finally said, embracing is friend with a hug.

“Wow, I hardly
recognized you, Ben. You’re all grown up.”

“Yeah, you
too. What has it been… ten years?” Ben said.

“Something
like that. How the hell are you, man?” Kyle asked.

“You know,
same old, I guess.”

“Are you going
somewhere?” Kyle asked, taking notice of Ben’s luggage. Similarly,
Kyle had a suitcase with him.

“Actually, I
just arrived,” Ben said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m moving to
Cold Lake. Rent here is too expensive.”

“Trust me, you
don’t want to move to Cold Lake, I just came from there.”

“What am I
supposed to do? I have no choice.” Kyle asked.

“If rent is
the only issue, why don’t you move in with me? I literally just
inherited a house,” Ben said, as he held up the keys.

“You inherited
a house? Who gave you a house?”

“It’s a long
story. I’m on my way there now to check it out. Why don’t you come
with me? If you like it, you can stay there with me rent free.”

“How could I
possibly say no to that?”

The last time
Ben and Kyle had seen each other was when they were about
fourteen-years old. They had both been fostered by the same family
— a farmer and his wife. The couple was getting old so they thought
it was a good idea to adopt two young strong boys to do manual
labour around the farm.

It was more
like a slave camp. Every day, Ben and Kyle would have to wake up at
the crack of dawn to feed the chickens, herd the cows, and bale
hay, among other tasks. They would work all day and come home
around 6:00 p.m. for dinner, then were home schooled until their
bedtime. This had gone on for years. The couple become greedy and
asked for more boys from the child welfare agency. This raised
suspicions, which prompted an investigation. After that, the boys
were removed from the home and had not seen each other since. They
had bounced around various foster homes for the next two years
until they turned eighteen. The only saving grace in the whole
situation was that for a two-year period, they had spent every
waking minute with each other and had formed a bond that was as
strong as brothers — perhaps even stronger.

Bumping into
each other was like a sign from God — as if the actual brush
strokes of destiny were visible.

“So where is
this house anyway?” Kyle asked.

Ben handed him
a sheet of paper with the address on it. Kyle studied it for a
minute, then said, “I know where this is. It’s actually quite far
from here, but I know a bus that will take us there.”

Ben and Kyle
walked to the next block where there was a bus stop. They chatted
the whole time until the bus came. Ben briefly described how his
life had turned out since they last saw each other, and then
explained some of the more recent events that led him to being in
Calgary. The bus finally arrived and they both hauled their
suitcases aboard and found a seat together.

“So the last
couple days have been a rollercoaster ride for you, huh?” Kyle
asked.

“Yeah, there
have definitely been some highs and lows and everything in between.
It all seems surreal to me. Even bumping into you is tripping me
out. It makes me think this is all happening for a reason.”

“Like your
life has a purpose?”

“It’s funny
you use those words because that’s the third time I’ve heard them
in the past few days. The morning I woke up in the hospital, as I
was about to leave, one of the nurses handed me a note.”

“A note?” Kyle
repeated, “what did it say?”

“Hold on, I’m
getting to that. After I left the hospital, I walked back to my
apartment and then from there I boarded a bus. It was less than an
hour later, but when I sat down, some random woman on the bus
handed me a note.”

“What’s with
all the notes?” Kyle asked.

“That’s not
even the weird part, check this out.”

Ben reached
into his back pocket, pulled out both notes, and handed them to
Kyle. The look on Kyle’s face said it all. Much like Ben, he could
not believe his eyes.

“What are the
odds you get identical notes saying your life has a purpose?”

“I don’t know,
but it’s pretty strange, right?”

“Strange
indeed,” Kyle replied, “and then you receive notification that
someone wants to give you a house?”

“Yep.”

“Huh,” Kyle
grunted, almost in disbelief.

“Crazy,
right?”

“Yeah, I’d say
that’s a little crazy. You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”

“No, this is
the God’s honest truth.”

“As opposed to
a dishonest truth? And isn’t God considered the most trustworthy of
sources, so this is like a triple whammy of redundancy.”

“Hey, it’s a
figure of speech, leave me alone.”

“Wait,
something still doesn’t add up,” Kyle pondered.

“What?”

“You said you
lost everything in the fire, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So where did
you get the luggage from?”

“Well, that’s
another story.”

Buried deep in
the suburbs of Calgary was a row of houses on a quiet street.
Midsize sedans and SUVs were parked along both sides, leaving the
driving lane barely wide enough for two vehicles. Old-growth trees
sheltered the neighbourhood from the sun with their long, flowing
branches.

After walking
several blocks from the bus stop, Ben and Kyle approached the
house.

“It should be
this one on the left,” Kyle said.

They set their
bags down and observed their new residence for the first time. The
house was a little more rundown than they were expecting, but it
would have to do. It was a small two-level dwelling with a rickety
porch and peeling paint. By Ben’s estimation, he figured it was at
least fifty years old. The landscaping looked like it had not been
done in years. Tall grass and weeds took over what was probably a
nice lawn at one point. It was the only house on the block that
looked like that.

“Welcome to
your new home,” Ben said.

“Likewise.”

Although it
lacked curb appeal, there was no telling what the interior looked
like, and there was only one way to find out. They picked up their
suitcases and lugged them to the house. Once up the front steps,
they saw the porch littered with soggy newspapers and a worn out
welcome mat.

“Whoever left
you this house sure wasn’t worried about what the neighbours
thought of him,” Kyle said.

“Based on what
I’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if we find Mr. Gringer’s
skeleton still sitting in his favourite arm chair.”

“Do you think
we’re going to find a dead body in there?” Kyle asked.

“Let’s hope
not.”

Ben opened the
screen door and inserted the key into the lock. He pushed his way
into the house and a strong odour pushed back.

“Dang, it sure
smells like someone died in there,” Kyle remarked.

“It’ll be
fine. We just need to open some windows and air the place out.”

The curtains
were drawn, preventing light from penetrating. Ben tried flipping
on the light switch, but nothing happened. He had not expected the
electricity to still be running, but it had been worth a shot. When
Ben’s eyes adjusted to the light, he concluded the interior of the
house more or less matched the exterior. Cobwebs hung from the
ceiling, the décor was dated, and it had thick, orange shag carpet
throughout. There were stacks of junk lying about — newspapers,
mail, books, and dirty dishes were scattered over the entire
floor.

As Kyle
followed Ben inside, the pair felt like a couple of tomb raiders.
It was not clear when anyone had been in the house last, but from
the stench and the thick layer of dust on everything, it must have
been a while.

“So, what do
you think? A little paint should do this place wonders, right?” Ben
said, taking pride in his new house.

“Do you have
money for paint?” Kyle asked.

“Not yet, but
once we get jobs, we can fix this place up, good as new.”

“Shall we take
a tour?” Kyle asked.

They set their
bags down at the front door and proceeded to go further into the
house. With every room they entered, Ben drew the curtains back and
opened the windows. It did not take long to cover the first floor.
Unfortunately for Ben, there did not appear to be any hidden relics
worth any money. The first floor did not offer much, just an
expired kitchen, living room, dining room, and a grimy bathroom.
They walked in and out of each room on the first floor, taking
notice of anything that might provide them clues to who the
previous owner was. Remarkably, there were no photographs framed on
the walls and no photo albums lying around.

Without saying
a word, Ben led the way upstairs to where there were a set of
bedrooms. The master bedroom had the typical stuff one would expect
to find in a master bedroom — a four-poster bed, a night stand with
a lamp, and a dresser.

After a brief
look upstairs, they went back downstairs and walked around idly.
“So there it is,” Ben said. “It’s not so bad.”

“What’s this
door for?” Kyle asked, pointing out a door they had previously
overlooked. The entranceway was covered with debris so he used his
foot to push it away.