A Father's Gift

Rain poured down on the roof of the car as she sat behind the wheel, head in her hands as tears flowed down her cheeks. She grabbed her wallet to find she had only $10 left to her name and her last job interview had not gone so well. Sara Parsons was broke. Having just graduated from a top school, she had spent all her time and effort into getting good grades. Now she was left with a pile of student loans and no job prospects. Grabbing a tissue, she wiped her tears as she heard her phone ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Sara Parsons?”

“Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”

“My name is Officer Nelson with the Boston Police Department. I am sorry to have to tell you this but your father has passed away.”

“My father? Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am, we are sure. He was involved in a car accident. A drunk driver hit him. He was brought to the hospital but he did not make it thru surgery. Is there anyone else we should be calling? His wife or someone?”

“No, it was just him and I. I will head to his house. If someone would like to speak with me further, I will be there. Please have the hospital contact the funeral home and they can reach me for details.”

She hung up the phone and tears stung her eyes but didn’t fall. Her father was Nick Parsons. He had been distant from her lately, mainly from his drinking and gambling habits. Sara’s mother had died when Sara was young. She had no siblings and neither of her parents had any brothers or sisters either. All of her grandparents had passed away as well. He was the only family she had left, and now he was gone. Nick was a writer, mainly mysteries. But his work had been diminishing in the past few years. His money following suit. Turning the key over, Sara put the car in drive and headed East to her father's house.

The funeral was short and somber. Few people showed as Nick had created a lot of problems with the people in the business and in his life. Sara stood at the table next to his urn and greeted the few who stopped to pay their condolences. When everyone had left, Nick’s assistant walked over and sat down. He handed Sara an envelope.

“Your dad wanted me to give this to you, in the event that he passed away.”

“What is in here? More bills to pay?”

“I don’t know. It was sealed when he gave it me for safe keeping and I never once opened it.”

She felt the envelope and could tell there was a piece of paper and a key. “At least I can tell there isn't any money in here” she thought. She opened the letter and the key fell in her lap. She held it up and asked Ryan what room this was for. He shrugged, “No clue.” Opening the letter, she read:

“My dear Sara. If you are reading this, it means that I have passed away. I am sorry that things have turned out this way. I have only wanted the best for you in life and I have failed you. My hope was that one day we could have worked together on some incredible opportunities. I know I have squandered away my life and my savings. I don’t have much to give you but there is something that I want you to have. This key will unlock the door to my private study. In there you will certainly find things you have been searching for. Anything that was mine is now yours. Just so you know, I loved you more than anything Sara.”

Sara took the key and went upstairs to her dad's room. It seemed dark and unwelcoming. A heaviness weighed down on her shoulders as she made her way to the secret room. As she unlocked the door, Sara was almost afraid of what she would find in the room. Slowly she opened it and turned on the light. Once her eyes adjusted, she was shocked by what she saw.

The little office was small, about 8x10 feet with 2 small windows to let in light. An antique desk sat in the middle of the room. There were a few book cases with some of Nick’s early works on the shelves along with some of his favorite authors as well. On the desk were some pens, a few pencils and a larger envelope with her name on it. She opened it up and pulled out a beautiful black Moleskine journal with her name embossed on it. The note attached said “To Sara – Congratulations of your Graduation. Use this journal to start your journey in writing” Love Dad.

Sara continued to look around the room and saw boxes piled up everywhere. Her heart sank and the thought of having to clean all this stuff out. Reaching down she grabbed one of the boxes and set it up on the desk. Dusting off the top of the box she opened it up, not sure what to expect. Inside the box were dozens of black journals, all labeled and filled with his writings. She grabbed one from the top and started to read. Her heart started racing as she realized exactly what she was looking at. She dropped the journal and opened another box. Full of black journals – exactly the same as the first box. She looked around the room. There had to be at least 10 full boxes here. Could it be true? That her dad and continued to write but never published anything, leaving it all for her? She went back to grab the first box and her own personal journal. She locked the office and went downstairs to the living room. Settling in on the couch, she grabbed the first journal and started to read it.

Sara read thru the night, finishing the first 5 journals. She couldn’t believe it. The writing was incredible. Better than anything her father had written before. These could be top sellers once published, bringing in millions of dollars in profits. This was the inheritance her father wanted her to have. He wanted her to publish these books so she could have the money, something he was never able to save for her. Looking at her watch she saw it was after 8:00 in the morning. She grabbed her keys and the journals and raced to her car. As she drove to Boston Publishing, she called her father's agent on the phone.

“Hello is this, Jane?”

“Yes, who's calling?”

“This is Sara Parsons. I am Nick Parsons daughter”

“Oh Sara, I am so sorry to hear of your dad’s passing. He was such a talented writer. He bragged about you though and how one day he was going to write something incredible with you”

“Yes, that is why I am calling. I found some of his journals. Dozens of them. Enough for at least 5 books. He left them to me to publish. I'm bringing them to you now to read them. We can work out the details when I get there.”

“Wow Sara, that is wonderful. I will be waiting for you.”

Sara hung up the phone and thought of all that had transpired over the past three days. She had been broke without any job prospects, her father had passed away, and now she was on the verge of being a millionaire. All because of her father's love for a little black journal.