The Favor
The long black limousine wove its way through the country lanes of Verbum County, rain pelting down against the car. The whistling wind rocked the vehicle back and forth as Edwin pressed his face close to the tinted window, straining to see outside. All he could make out was an impenetrable blackness. Unable to take in the sights, he had time to reflect on how curious this day had become.
It had started like any other summer morning—bright and full of promise. Edwin had enjoyed a huge breakfast, looked forward to spending the day riding his bike, and relished the freedom of the first day of summer holidays. But everything changed when his mother called him into the living room and closed the door behind her.
She was standing by the picture window, gripping the drapes as she gazed out at the garden. Her tense posture made it clear something was on her mind.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Edwin asked cautiously.
She didn’t respond immediately, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft and unfamiliar.
“Edwin, since your father passed, everything has been… harder than I ever imagined. There’s so much you don’t know yet.” She hesitated, as if debating whether to say more, then shook her head. “Right now, I need to sort through your father’s affairs, and to do that, I’ll need to travel.”
“Then let me come with you,” Edwin offered quickly. “It’s my holidays. I can help. I don’t have school, remember?”
She shook her head firmly. “No, Edwin. This is something I need to handle on my own. What I need from you is different.”
“Okay… what is it?” he asked hesitantly.
She turned to face him, her expression a mix of resolve and unease. “I need you to stay with Cedric Bellamy for a little while. Just until I’m done. Two, maybe three weeks at most. That’s all. I promise.
Edwin froze. He had heard of Cedric Bellamy—of course he had. His father had spoken of him often. Every Friday, he’d announce he was heading off to work with Cedric on some mysterious project. But whenever Edwin asked what they were working on or why he’d never met Cedric, his father would always laugh it off and say how brilliant Cedric was before quickly changing the subject.
“Don’t worry. You’ll meet him someday,” he would eventually add. “When the time is right. But now is not the time. He is a very busy man, and he has no patience for distractions.”
His father would then pass an anxious glance to his mother, as if to say, Help me with this. On cue, his mother would change the subject and start asking Edwin if he had finished his homework, cleaned his room, or washed out his ears.
Edwin realized the last time he had tried to ask his father about the big project and the great Cedric Bellamy was the day before his father had died.
His father died on a Saturday in May, a day that had started out not unlike this one, with his mother calling him into the living room.
“Your father is gone,” she had wailed. “The gas . . . the gas. It’s that damn gas that did it,” she screamed.
Edwin figured his father must have died in some sort of gas explosion, but he knew enough not to pursue the details with his mother as she was so incredibly distraught. He would bide his time and wait for her to tell him the truth. He loved her too much to force the issue.
While he missed his father terribly, he felt for his mother even more. She seemed abandoned and so lonely. He wanted to help, but something was troubling her—something other than the death of her husband. And now here she was asking him to stay with Cedric Bellamy. But why? He wondered if her desire to get his father’s things in order meant suing the gas company.
“Edwin, will you do it?” asked his mother in a desperate voice.
Edwin looked up again and saw that his mother was waiting for his answer.
“Of course, Mom. If you want me to stay with Mr. Bellamy, then I will. I’m sure he is a nice person,” he added halfheartedly.
“He is a very good person, Edwin, and Henry . . . your father, loved him dearly. It’s important you meet him now,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “He will be sending a car to pick you up later this afternoon. I’ll pack your clothes. You won’t need much. It’s only a few weeks,” she emphasized, again trying to reassure him.
“But what do I call him, Mom? Uncle Bellamy?”
“Just call him Sir Cedric, dear.” Her voice had steadied, and she was clearly relieved Edwin had agreed to the plan.
When his mother said goodbye to him later that day, she was inconsolable.
“You are such a good boy, Edwin,” she said, squeezing him as she sobbed. “I hate to send you away during a time like this. But please understand that it is for the best. You’ll see.”
“Come on, Mom. Don’t worry about me. As you said, it’s only a few weeks.”
While the words flowed easily from Edwin’s mouth, his stomach churned as he tried to anticipate what it would be like to live with the legendary Sir Cedric Bellamy.
