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The Last to Know

By: Sven the Elder



Chapter 1 - Setting the stage.

It's strange how things come to light when we think we've hidden and forgotten them.

That was just a passing thought as I sat on my own in the bar of a hotel I hadn't been back to in over thirty years. I was having a beer while I waited for my wife to finish getting ready and join me for a meal. As I sat there at the back of the room, I looked at the other customers and was slightly startled to see a vaguely familiar face. The man, slightly older than us, turned from the bar and came across, smiled as he introduced himself and then sat down. Brett had been the Project Manager for the local company building our small estate of houses when we first moved to this part of the world all that time ago.

Now at this point I'm going to take a moment to add a Shakespearean aside. 

Ours had been the first house finished and we had moved into it when the small street was still a messy, muddy building site. We had quickly made friends with the builders and kept them supplied with hot drinks when the weather was cold and wet. Indeed our kitchen became a haven for them. They had shown their gratitude, or at least I had thought so at the time, by doing little extra things in our house free of charge, and they were quite generous in doing so. 

Let me offer an example - our house was small and I wanted a hobby room and so bought a wooden garden building. It had been brought to us and part of the deal was that the guys that delivered it would also set it up for us. So they duly arrived. Our building friends noted this and realizing what was going to happen, told them to hang on for a minute, we would give them a cup of tea, while they prepared the foundations. And prepare them they did! A gravel base appeared, was topped off with small sections of concrete and slabs were then laid to give a solid foundation.

So the shed was erected, power run properly in from the house, a path laid and all done in rapid time before I came home from my shift-work job later that night. Frankly it was breath-taking, a superb job and almost embarrassing in its generosity. In my naivety at the time I was just very grateful.

And that's the way I remained until quite recently. What had made me wonder was an article in a monthly magazine Janet, my wife, gets. It has an 'Agony Aunt' section and though I don't usually read them in any detail I often scan and have a quiet laugh to myself about some of the subjects that people write in about. That is until I came across a subject a few months back. 

It was a letter from a lady asking how she should deal with a situation. Nothing unusual there I hear you comment. Except this lady detailed a problem that had occurred some long time before and obviously still felt guilty about. The lady had been having a house built in Scotland and she'd manage to get quite a lot of expensive extras for nothing by 'looking after' the builders with favours that had started in a small way with coffee, tea, cakes etc and had ended up with her being well and truly bedded by some of the builders involved. Her husband had not found out but she had been wrestling with her conscience, knowing that the guilt of her adultery had inhibited her sexual performance for so many years. Which was why she wanted help - should she tell her poor husband, and if so how the hell would she do so...?

The crash of the penny dropping in my head was like the sound of a fruit machine jackpot dropping at Vegas rather than the clunk of a single penny hitting the floor. Fortunately my wife of some forty and odd years was out of the house when I read her magazine and couldn't spot either my stunned expression or my reaction to the 'Dear Abby' letter. The truth was that that was where we had lived and yes we had a huge amount of extras at the time. To be truthful I was so stunned I actually don't know what the recommendation as to how to deal with the situation was. I do know that having read the article, I put the magazine back on the coffee table and that by the next day it had disappeared. 

So I said nothing. Well - what would you have done?

After all this had been some thirty and odd years ago and she was a month or so pregnant with our first son at the time. What would raking things up do or solve after all this time, other than perhaps to satisfy my curiosity. Interesting to contemplate that at the time, knowledge of what had happened might well have led to us parting. Now it would probably be very different as I had become curious as to what drove married couples who either had open marriages, or tolerated or even welcomed one or other having relationships outside of their marital bed. I had read a lot about it and as well as that curiosity I was also a lot more tolerant in my older age.

However, notwithstanding either my thoughts or any other plans I might have had - fate was yet going to play an interesting hand. 

A close friend moved up to the area, North of the English Border and insisted that a few months down the line when they were settled into their new home and lifestyle, that we should drive up and stay with them. After all, her new home was less than an hour away from where she knew we used to live and at the very least we could either just drive past and have a look for old times' sake or maybe even look up friends from all that time ago.

We had accepted. Which is why after visiting our friend we were now checked into a hotel about ten miles away from our old home, for just one night. 

-----------------

And so here I was sat in the bar and the man who had just come and joined me was the person who had probably cuckolded me all that time ago.

There being no point in either accusative histrionics or anything else for that matter, so we passed pleasantries, as you do, and chatted over our respective drinks. Inevitably we discussed the main item we had in common - the building of our little cul-de-sac of houses. Equally inevitably of course, I just had to ask. "So, Brett, all that time ago, in the end Janet did pay for all of those extras, didn't she?"

Brett looked me straight in the eye. "Yes she did. Aye indeed - in full!"

His answer left me in no doubt as to what he meant. 

At that point he looked over my shoulder and said, "I think I need to go..." and was up and leaving before I could argue. 

I watched him cross the room on his way out as Janet, who he had seen entering and recognised, was coming across. He stopped briefly and said something to her as I watched. She staggered and almost fell before he steadied her by the elbow. Then they parted and she came on over to where I was sitting. I stood up as she approached, white as a sheet and with tears in her eyes.

"So you know?" was all she said.

"Yes."

And she then looked at me, realising I wasn't angry or shouting or upset. 

I said, "I think we both need a stronger drink as a first!"

Also going to the bar gave me time to think what I wanted to say or how I was going to play out the scene.

I returned with a couple of double scotches and, sitting down, gave one to her. She just took it and as she drank it back in one, looked at me fearing her world had just collapsed.

I sighed gently and said, "Well at the very least we both need to talk - openly and honestly. However before we do I need to tell you something about my thoughts. Hear me out and let me say my piece then you can have your say. Do you want to stay here in the bar, it's open and with the background music it's also discreet, or would you rather grab a bottle of wine and go up to our room? Rest assured I'm not going to make a scene or shout or scream or worse. Or do you want something to eat first?"

Janet looked at me. "I can't eat just now, I don't feel well as it is, so perhaps cancel our table and take a bottle of wine to our room - there's some bottled water there as well if we want it. I'll go there now - I must look dreadful with my make-up running."

"OK - I'll join you there shortly."

As I went to Reception to order the wine for our room I couldn't help but wonder what my very straight-laced, convent-educated wife of forty and odd years was going to tell me - especially after I had told her how different and more open-minded I had become as I'd grown older...



Chapter 2 - Realisation.

I got to our bedroom about ten minutes later and entered to the sound of sobs from the inner room. Not a good start. How to continue? Perhaps nothing as I waited for the bottle of wine to be delivered? No, equally not a good idea.

In the end I cleared my throat as I sat on the end of the bed beside her and put my hand on her shoulder, "I thought you were going to have a tidy up and use the time as a chance to compose yourself?"

I got the reply I half expected, "What's the point? I've been found out and you're going to leave me, which is all I deserve."

I thought I'd better come straight to my point. "No! I'm not about to leave you. I'll come to why in a moment. Little if anything will change. But in the end it would be nice to have some answers now I've come to realise and understand what happened all those years ago. But no, as I said, I'm not going to leave you - so go wash your face and tidy up a bit while we wait for the wine.

Janet looked at me as if I'd got several heads as I told her I wasn't going, but at least stopped crying as she went off to the bathroom.

A few minutes later she came out, tidier, more composed and at least no tears although her eyes were still very red. As the wine had arrived I had poured us both a glass and took one over to her, then went and sat in the chair opposite.

I cleared my throat as she sat, worried and waiting. "So let me give you some thoughts that I've been having, hear me out and then you can tell me what you think." She nodded in response.

"Let's think back to when we lived here. We were the first on the development by a long way and we both got to know Brett and the workmen pretty well. We've always got on well with people like that, it often pays dividends and it certainly seemed to do so for us. We got an awful lot of extras, some of them not so little, at no cost. Well no direct cost - I'll amend that now. I guess it's my own fault, I was pretty naive and having lost your income when you fell pregnant I was working all the overtime hours that I could to try and give us a financial cushion, having just bought our first decent house. Also, all those years ago it never crossed my mind that there might have been other forms of payment involved. But there were, weren't there?"

Janet started to say something so I put my hand up and she stopped. 

"I'll finish in a moment and then you can tell me about it. Brett didn't tell me you know, he just confirmed it. Not that I had guessed or really thought about it up until the time I read that piece in the Agony Aunt column in your magazine six or so months ago - the one that disappeared from view very quickly." 

I knew right then that I'd been correct as Janet went "Ohhh!", put her hand up to her mouth and actually went red rather than white as she had been.

"That's right, the one where the wife confessed her affair with the builders to have all the nice extras she wanted. Hubby had not found out but she wanted to know how best to deal with it and get past her guilt and her repressed sexuality. What was the advice by the way? For some reason having read that, I never managed to read the rest and when I next looked for the magazine it had gone. I'm not sure why you wrote the letter, but I'll turn things over to you now, I've pretty well guessed what might have happened, so spare me any attempts at glossing over it. At this point I think I'd rather know the truth, difficult as it may be to tell me. Neither of us can afford a divorce so we'd better talk about it and see what conclusions we can come to. Given that I had more or less worked things out six months ago and was waiting for a possible time to talk to you I can see little point in being bitter or nasty or vindictive. I'd just like to know why."



Chapter 3 - Confessions are good for the soul.

Janet looked at me, took a large gulp of her wine and started, her voice at first quiet with a tremor in it, but becoming steadier and more normal as she spoke.

"First of all, you're quite right that there was a price to be paid for all the things we had. I might as well say it up front - it was sex!" 

Janet's eyes started to tear up again at this point, but she wiped her eyes with a tissue thoughtfully provided by the hotel, composed herself and continued.

"So how did your demure, Convent-educated, non-risqué, stay-at-home and pregnant wife effectively become a whore and get paid for sex?" 

This time it was her turn to silence me with her hand and I decided that from now on I would stay silent and let her talk herself out. Janet got to her feet and poured some more wine into her glass and I think I was glad at that point I'd ordered two bottles, not just one, it looked as if we might need the second one before the evening was done. She stayed on her feet and walked gently up and down the room as she continued talking, not really looking at me.

"Well, you were right when you said we looked after our workmen, as you also added, we always have done so in those sort of circumstances, but I was unprepared for the way events panned out although perhaps I was being naive myself in hindsight. You were also right when you said you were working too hard and yes, I did feel as if I was being neglected. In truth I was lonely. The place was nothing like the friendly local area down in the South West where I grew up. 

"You know growing up with elderly parents meant they were very protective. On a Friday or Saturday night when my friends went to the pub, or to the cinema or even worse, dancing, I was never allowed to do that. My reputation had to be spotless - out for an ice cream or a coffee with my girlfriends, flirt a bit with the boys, but then always home by nine o'clock. Good old Janet - boring as bloody sin. We gossiped amongst our friends about the 'Bad' Girls - the ones who'd gone all the way in the back of a car - at least one of the girls left school and it was rumored she was pregnant. I don't think we ever did find out the truth. And then there were the two or three who still lived in the village - before they met their future partners. I marveled at the fact that still living there a husband might be in the pub, sharing a beer with a friend...both knowing that not many years before his future wife was on her knees happily sucking his friend's ...thing..."

Janet saw my slightly raised eyebrow at the use of the term 'thing' and continued:

"uhh, OK, 'cock' then." 

She sighed and then went on. "And so I came to realise that....they had all the fun. No one cares. Few even remember. What do they remember about me? Nothing! Except, well of course... she was a 'good' girl. So I've been carrying the guilt of being 'Good' for all these years. I suppose that is why our sex life has been, shall we say less than spectacular. I've never even been very good at initiating sex between us. I was always taught that girls who liked sex for other than having children weren't 'Nice Girls'. I experimented like all the 'other' girls, but never lost my virginity until you came along. I found I loved sex after you initiated me into it. Then we married and after a time I began to think of all the lost years. I even thought of some of the guys I would have ....done... ok, fucked. But I hadn't. What a dummy. 

"But I also knew that when we made love – oh, ok then, when we had sex - in the context we're talking it certainly was sex not love! When we had sex I loved it. And when I was pregnant I wanted even more and you weren't there. No. I'm not blaming you, please understand that, but let's just say that your absence didn't help things at all. However I do understand that I could and should have stopped things before they got out of hand. But I also knew with being pregnant my life had changed for ever and if I wanted to sample some of the wilder side of life it was going to be now or never. So when Brett made the advances I quickly decided not to fight it. 

"What started it all off was me asking Brett about the extra flooring in the loft. He was having coffee with me. On that occasion no-one else was in the kitchen. Fortunately I'd just put my coffee mug down or I think it would have gone everywhere. I was totally unprepared for what happened next. I was stood at the window, both hands leaning against the sill and looking out. Brett put his coffee down and came and stood very close behind me. Close enough that he could put his hands around my waist and pull me back against him. I nearly had a heart-attack as it was still so unexpected and I put my hands over his and just said 'Brett - stop that, I'm a pregnant, married woman! And I'll scream.' 'I don't think you will you know,' he said in my ear as he pulled me back to him, then 'To do something like that, as big as that job is, I think you might have to make it more worth my while'.

"Fortunately again there was no one out the back that morning as they would have seen very clearly what was going on and what happened next. Brett moved his hands up and cupped my breasts - you remember they grew in size from early on - and as he did so I felt him push himself against me from behind. I could feel his cock pushing into me. The bastard was already hard. I turned round inside his hold on me and faced him. At that point he dropped his hands to my ass-cheeks and pulled me into him and I was left under no illusion either to his state or what he wanted. I was paralysed, not with fear, but with the thought that I could feel myself getting wet down there." 

My eyebrows must have twitched again, 'cos she went on: "My pussy was wet and I wanted him. From that point on I think he knew he'd won because I let him undo my blouse and un-cup my breasts. He bent towards them and suckled on them gently and I had an orgasm on the spot. He had to stop me falling over. You know he's quite strong? Well he just half-bent his knees and picked me up and carried me into our bedroom. 

"At that point nothing was going to stop either of us. I hate the word but I knew he was going to fuck - there I've said it - fuck me and I wanted him to do so!

"He laid me on the bed and started undressing me. He wasn't very good at it though and in the end I took over and undressed for him. As he watched me undress, he took his shirt off, then his trousers - he'd left his shoes at the backdoor - at least at that point he also took his socks off.

"So he stood there in his underwear, his cock-head sticking up above the waistband. Then he walked across to me and I touched him, it ... his cock. So hot. I pulled his pants down and it sprang free. He was dripping fluid from the end he was so turned on. He's circumcised you know, and the end was purple he was so hard. 

"I laid back on our bed and spread my legs as he knelt between them. I, not he, guided him into me and he just went all the way in in one long, slow slide. 

"God, it was delicious!

"He's not as big as you and in a way it was easier and more comfortable because of that.

Then he moved and fucked me with increasing ferocity, I came again before he did, then he went rigid deep, deep inside me. He came so much I could actually feel his spurts. Slowly he pulled out of me and his juices started to follow - I cupped my hand there so as not to ruin the bedspread, it's too big and you couldn't wash it in our machine, and so I ran to the bathroom and the toilet. 

"I washed then and went back into the bedroom - to find he'd dressed and gone. When I went into the kitchen, still naked, he was stood there looking very sheepish. He started to apologise to me and I silenced him. After all I could have stopped him, but I didn't, I just said that it mustn't happen again."


The Last to Know



Note to readers: This story starts out in a similar way to one written by Kezza67 a few years ago. I've already received his okay for my version, though he hasn't read it. There's not any sex in this story, so if you want wham, bam, thank you ma'am you might as well move on. This could have been categorized in several different categories. I chose non-erotic.

As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. Please keep in mind that it's FICTION!! Thank you for reading.

*****

Chapter 1

I was sitting at the bar of my favourite watering hole one Friday after a long, long work week. It had become my habit to stop in here after work on Friday before heading home since the beer was cold and the food always excellent. And, it wasn't that there was anything pressing awaiting me at home; by the way, that's by my choice.

My favourite server in the whole world, Gail, was standing at the bar chatting with me about nothing in particular when she mentioned that a young couple had come in that she hadn't seen before. Since the other server was occupied with another table Gail walked over to where the young couple stood, appearing unsure of where to sit. She greeted them and a brief discussion ensued that ended with Gail pointing directly at me. 

The young couple came over. As they walked toward me I could see that they must be brother and sister, and maybe even twins. They looked vaguely familiar for some reason, but I knew I'd never seen them before. "We're sorry to intrude, sir, but is your name Ames?" the young woman asked.

"Yes, it is. Why?" I replied. I had no clue who these people were or what they could possibly want with me. I wasn't being unfriendly, but not totally welcoming either.

"Mr. John Charles Ames, you go by Jack or sometimes JC?" she continued her questioning.

"Yes. Now, since you seem to know who I am, would you tell me who I'm talking with?" I hadn't been called JC for ages.

"I, we, think you're our father. We're Jessica and James," she said, hesitantly and somewhat hopefully, as if their names explained everything. They didn't.

"I'm sorry. I don't know who you think I am, but I've never had any kids in my life. You must be mistaken," I answered her.

This was a fact. I'd been divorced for over 20 years, and I knew that my ex and I didn't have children. If she had kids, it wasn't by me, and I hadn't been in any relationships since that would have resulted in 2 kids the age of this couple. 

"Please excuse me. I have to go," I said to the young couple, then to the server,"Gail, can you put this on my tab, please? I'll see you next Friday as usual." I got up and left the pub. The young couple didn't say anything, just watched me walk out.

I drove home to my cabin attached to a campground I owned part of. The cabin could be accessed, with permission, via the campground or by knowing where to turn off the access road. Well, it wasn't really a cabin, I just called it that. It was a 2 story log house with 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, living room, den and kitchen/dining room. It was far more room than I needed; it came with the campground and my partners didn't want to live in it. They owned a large, spacious house about a kilometer away. They needed the room because of their 5 kids.

The visit of the 2 young people stirred up long-buried memories, memories I had hoped were buried forever.

I am a computer security consultant, and also an instructor at a small community college near Halifax, Nova Scotia. I've been with the college about 15 years now, and also consult with small and medium sized businesses as a sideline. Though my partner and his wife and I are equal owners of the campground we have little to do with the day-to-day operation of it. We have a very capable manager who runs it for us. We might help out when it's really busy, but usually we just stay out of the way.

23 years ago, I was just a young guy out of university with a brand new degree in computer science. My ex-wife, Bev, had graduated with a nursing degree and we were married shortly after graduating. Our life was great. We were young and in love and had the world by the ass. A couple of years after getting married we bit the bullet and purchased a small house in the West End of Vancouver, British Columbia. It wasn't too far from St. Paul's Hospital where Bev was an OR nurse. The commute to my job took all of 10 minutes by bus in inclement weather, or about 30 minute walk.

My work was new and interesting since it was the early days of the internet. In depth and complicated security needs had yet to rear their ugly head at the time, and we were all busy developing new programs and services. It was an exciting time to work in the industry. Our company was expanding almost daily and I was quickly rising through the ranks by virtue of seniority if nothing else. However, I did know my job and found myself being asked more and more often to train new-hires on our programs and systems. Though I'd never had any formal training as a teacher or instructor, I found I enjoyed that part of it.

The only blot on our total happiness was the passing of our parents within months of each other. Mine were killed in a multi-car accident on an interior highway. I was devastated, naturally, since I had no other immediate family. Bev's mother had come down with an aggressive form of breast cancer, and mercifully died quite quickly without too much suffering. We always thought that her father died from a broken heart. He was devastated by the loss of his wife of 30 plus years, and was never the same after she passed. He left us about 6 months after she did. As I was, Bev was an only child. The only benefit out of the whole mess was we were able to be debt free except for a small mortgage remaining on the house. Truth be told, we'd rather have had the debt than lose our parents.

I had a bear of a week. My team called me in Sunday to troubleshoot a problem, and then all week I was working from early morning until around 10:00 at night. I hardly saw Bev during that time, at least awake; I was just too tired and she was usually in bed by the time I got home. In the morning I was gone before she was awake. I'd get home, eat something or other and go to bed, get up early and the whole thing would start again. So it was on that fateful Friday.

We'd been married about 3 years when that world and everything I valued came to an end. I came home from work late Friday evening, as I had all week, to find that Bev had moved out. Everything, and I mean everything, that could have been considered hers was gone, including our car. Well, actually it was hers; I was never on title and she owned it before we were married. To say I was frantic would be like saying the Sun is hot. It was obvious that she'd been planning this; I never saw any hint of it coming. The hospital would only tell me she had taken a leave of absence and they didn't know where she was. They wouldn't say when she'd be back. I searched all our favourite dining and watering holes, and called everyone we ever had any kind of relationship with. I waited the requisite 48 hours before filing a missing person report with the police. They didn't sound hopeful.

I reluctantly went back to work the following Monday. Even my PA, Patricia, or Pat, could see that I was just going through the motions. It was hell, not knowing where the love of my life was or why she had left. We had hardly ever had an argument in all the years we had known each other, and never a fight. It was a mystery that I wouldn't solve for many years. I determined, in my own mind, over the ensuing weeks that she had found someone else. I was heartbroken, but if it made Bev happy, then I'd try to forget her and move on.

My lawyer called me about 2 weeks later and told me he had some documents I had to sign. I had no idea what was coming when I walked into his office and was presented with divorce papers citing irreconcilable differences. On her lawyer's instructions, Bev's location could and would not be revealed. Defeated, I signed before leaving my lawyer's office. He'd explained the various options open to me; I didn't like any of them. I did, however, get him to include a note asking her lawyer to pass on asking why she had left me. I never heard back and a few months later I was single again.

After a couple of months living in a fog, I sold the house. After paying off the mortgage there was a good amount of money left. I put half of the proceeds in an account in Bev's name and informed my lawyer, who of course knew who Bev's lawyer was, that I had done so. She could access the money anytime she wanted. I still loved her though I was devastated by what she had done. I didn't know for certain that she had someone new in her life, but if she did, it was better that I was out of it.

After selling the house, I resigned from my job, with a vague plan of travelling for awhile before settling down. Was I running away? You're damned right I was, hopefully into a new life without memories. It was a tearful goodbye with my loyal PA, Pat. She and her husband were the only islands of sanity in my world. I told her, truthfully, that I didn't know where I was going. I made vague promises to let her know if I ever settled down. I piled everything I owned into my Ford F250, purchased with part of the proceeds from the sale of the house, and departed Vancouver forever. I haven't been back since.

Chapter 2

I virtually worked my way across Canada over the next 2 years. If I found a place I liked, I'd find some inexpensive accommodation and then find some work in the computer industry. Usually it was retail sales and repairs. My credentials were never questioned, I had my certificates with me; probably the most valuable items I owned. I'd work for a few weeks or months then move on.

Eventually I ended up in Nova Scotia. After exploring the province, which is actually not all that large when you get down to it, I ended up in a small town that is virtually a suburb of Halifax. It was there I met my future partner and his wife. I had found work in a large computer store and he had come in asking about setting up internet access for a campground. Since I was the most qualified of anyone on staff to discuss it, we ended up talking about it over a coffee. He came in quite a few more times to pick my brain. I finally told him that to save driving into Halifax every time he had a question, why not just call me at home since I lived out that way, or I could meet with him on weekends at the campground that was giving him so many problems.

I made several visits to the campground over the following weeks. They were spending quite a bit of money on it to upgrade so it could be open all year round. Apparently there was a good market for winter camping, and not many places to accommodate the demand. Since I had helped so much with the campground, Gordon and Heather offered me a partnership. They were trying to raise enough money to finish their modernization project. I had the funds to invest and did so. In return, I received my partnership and use of the 'cabin' attached to the grounds. Of course, I paid for all the utilities and improvements, but it was still pretty cheap living.

Once I got established I found I could make a better living as a consultant than just selling for a large store. About this time, computer viruses and their assorted cousins were becoming too common. I decided to learn everything I could about the security aspect of computing by taking online courses and night courses at a local college. Within a couple of years I was a leading authority on internet security, at least in my small part of the planet. I kept my consulting business small enough that I could handle everything myself. I had a small, but dedicated, client base that I looked after very well.

About this time, I was approached by the college about maybe running night classes for adults who wanted to learn about computers; just the basics for email, internet surfing and the like. The pay wouldn't be much, classes would only by about 3 hours a week anyway, and I could teach most of the stuff off the cuff. I took the gig, and found that I was again enjoying the teaching aspects of the computer industry. I talked to the Dean over coffee one day and suggested a formal curriculum with qualified teachers or instructors. If the program got started, he promised that I'd be 'grandfathered' so that I wouldn't need a teaching certificate or Master's degree. 

Eventually they did start a program, based on Microsoft Windows products. There were several different programs and certifications; I taught computer networking and security. I had found my niche.

Over the years since I arrived in Halifax I never had a serious relationship, nor did I want one. After what had happened with my marriage and Bev just walking out, to say I was gun shy would be a drastic understatement. I did have several short term relationships, of course, but I think my partners could sense that these were going nowhere and most left after a short time. I couldn't and wouldn't blame them.

* * * *

Unknown to me while I was travelling and before getting settled in Nova Scotia, things were developing at a rapid pace back in Vancouver. Pat, my ex-PA, happened to come across a very pregnant Bev in a department store not long after the divorce was final and a couple of months after I'd left Vancouver. She confronted her about leaving and virtually destroying me. Bev had been pregnant with twins when she left me. I never knew. What transpired next I learned many years later.

It seemed that someone had seen me having lunch with a beautiful woman one day, and thought we were just too friendly. Whoever it was reported this to Bev, who, instead of asking or talking to me about it, jumped to a natural, and incorrect, conclusion. My long days at work and short nights at home over that week had me, in her mind, having an affair. My ex-PA convinced Bev to return with her to the office and she could check dates and luncheon engagements I'd had. Pat kept records of everything from the day she had been hired. They were able to pinpoint the lunch 'date' in question. It turned out that the beautiful woman was the head of the marketing department. Yes, she was very beautiful, and very married. We had a good working relationship and that's all it ever was. What had been reported to Bev was a misunderstanding, and a mistake. If Bev wanted, a meeting could be arranged since the woman still was head of marketing, and would verify what Bev was being told.

Bev became unglued, apparently, when she realized what had happened and they almost called for an ambulance to have her admitted to hospital. Before they did, she got composed enough to thank my ex-PA and provide contact details in the event that I ever did get in touch with her or anyone in the company. Of course, I never did. She then contacted my lawyer who couldn't give her much more information, other than the large sum of money on deposit with a local bank in her name. He had also provided the information to her lawyer. I guess he hadn't got in touch with her. Unfortunately for everyone, the address provided on the account turned out to be the law office. I had virtually disappeared.

In the months that followed, Jessica and James were born. Bev continued to try to find me, to no avail since the internet was fairly new and she didn't have the knowledge or resources to use it; and she didn't have any idea where to start looking. Now she was a single mother with twins, and a missing father that knew nothing of them. With the help of the money I'd left for her, and her job in nursing, she was able to provide a good home and education for the kids. Eventually she stopped trying to find me, accepting the fact that I had disappeared from her life.

Jessica, as she grew older, wasn't all that convinced that I couldn't be found once she and her brother were told about their father. She and James had grown up with the internet and were well aware of what could be done. She initiated a wide sweeping web search over a period of weeks that eventually found my square peg in the round hole. How she narrowed it down to me, I don't know, and never did discover; but knowing how the internet works and the resources available, I could hazard a pretty good guess how she managed.

Of course, they didn't know for sure that their search was correct, and it would be some time before they would have a chance to check it out. They never did tell their Mom that their search had probably been successful since they didn't want to get her hopes up yet again. She had accepted that I had disappeared and hadn't discussed the situation with her children in years.

As it turned out, finding me became quite urgent. James had developed a medical condition that could only be cured, if that's the word, by an organ transplant from, preferably, a male relative; in short, me. Jessica was certain that she had found me living and working just outside Halifax. She was disappointed to find that there were absolutely no photos of me on the 'net which may or may not have clinched it for her. She and James made arrangements to fly to Halifax and track me down. Their excuse to Bev was that they wanted to visit the East Coast since they'd never been there.

That fateful Friday, they had missed me at the college by about an hour, but a helpful clerk told them about my stopping at the pub for supper on Fridays, and had given them directions on how to get there. I still wasn't aware that I was a father, and was blissfully unaware that the two had only begun to confirm that I was their father. The next morning, I received a phone call from Jessica.

"Mr. Ames. I'm really sorry to disturb you. My name, as I said yesterday, is Jessica, Jessica Ames. I'm almost positive you're my father."

"Look, Miss Ames, I've been divorced for over 20 years. I don't know where my ex-wife is, and I know for a fact that while we were married that we didn't have any kids. I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm the Ames you're looking for."

"Look, Mr. Ames. I hate to be a pest, but I think I can prove you're our father. Is there somewhere we can meet? I have some documents and photos I'd like to show you. If, after that, you still feel that we're not related, we'll walk away."

I thought about it for a few seconds, "Okay, I guess I can listen to what you have to say. Where are you right now?"

"We're at the Bayview in Halifax," she gave the name of a mid-scale hotel near downtown Halifax.

"Okay, do you have my address?"

"Uh, no, not really. All that shows up on the GPS is a campground."

"That's right. I live in a home attached to that campground. Just drive in and go to the main office. I'll call and tell them you're coming. They'll give you directions to the house, and the code for the gate."

"Mr. Ames, I promise. I think this will be worth your while. Thank you for agreeing to see us. I think it might take us some time, we don't know the area."

"I'll be here waiting. It's not that far."

"Thank you so much. You don't know what this means. We'll see you in awhile." She ended the call and I called the office at the campground to advise them I was expecting visitors, probably in half an hour or so, and to give them the access code to the gate for the house.

I decided to use the time I had to shower and clean up. Since it was Saturday, unless I had some kind of engagement it was my habit to just hang out in my sweats, reading or watching TV.

Chapter 3

I was sitting on the deck sipping a coffee when the rental car pulled up in front of the house. I waved to the young couple and indicated that they could come up the outside stairs to join me, which they quickly did. Jessica was dressed in shirt and jeans with comfortable looking clogs. James followed slowly behind as she came up the stairs, dressed in t-shirt and jeans. I mistook the slowness for lack of interest; actually it was because he was quite ill.




The Last to Know



"Mr. Ames, it's good to see you again. Thank you for seeing us. I know it's an intrusion," she was obviously the spokesman for the two of them.

"Well, since you told me I wouldn't regret it, how could I refuse? Can I get you a coffee or something?"

"Sure, coffee would be good. James takes it black, I use a bit of whitener or cream, whichever you have."

I went and poured two additional mugs of coffee and brought them out on a tray with some cookies and the whitener. Once they got their coffee going, I got right down to it, "Okay, you say you have documents and photos. What have you got that brought you to Halifax?"

Jessica opened a briefcase that contained several file folders. The first documents were their birth certificates, showing their mother as Beverley Sharon Ames and their father as John Charles Ames. Well, so far the names were correct, but I wasn't buying until they pulled out a photo of a young Bev standing beside a young me at our wedding reception.

"Mom's had the original of this on a shelf with other photos for as long as I remember. It is you and her, isn't it? You look the same, older with less hair, but the same."

"Where did you get this photo?" I was only half listening to her. Until now I'd put all those horrible memories far behind me.

"Like I said, our Mom has the original on a shelf with other photos. I scanned it to bring a copy with us." She pulled more photos out of the folder and laid them on the table in front of me. "Most of these are us growing up, graduating, that kind of thing. There's a few of the 3 of us, Mom was always involved in what we were doing."

I was stunned. These two were actually my children. I hadn't known a thing about them until this very moment. Tears were welling in my eyes as I asked, "How is it I didn't know about you two? Your mother wasn't pregnant when I last saw her so many years ago."

"Well, Mr. Ames, I mean Dad, I mean Father. Can I, we, call you Dad?" In a fog, I nodded my assent. "Mom was waiting to surprise you when, well, when she left you. I can tell you a bit about it, but not too much since most of it happened before we were born," Jessica went on to relate what she know of what had happened after I left Vancouver.

"So, your mother never remarried?"

"No, she never even had any boyfriends. She was so absolutely devastated at what she had done that it took her a long, long time to come to terms with it. We were too young to appreciate it at the time, but she spent a lot of time in therapy, learning to live with her mistake."

My voice couldn't hide my bitterness, "Yeah, she left without a note or anything. To this day I don't know why she would do such a thing. It took a long, long time for me to move on. I'm not sure I ever want to go back to remembering what used to be. I don't know that I'd ever be able to forgive her for that."

I took a deep breath, "What you haven't told me is why you came looking. Like it's not that you needed me now, you grew up without a father and seem to be doing okay."

"It's not her or us, it's James. She doesn't know we're here, or at least that we came looking for you. She thinks the two of us are just here on vacation. James has a medical condition that will kill him unless he receives a transplant. The thing is, it should be from a male family member."

"And I'm it?"

"Yes. I know we don't have any right to ask that of you, but it's James' only hope."

"James, you haven't said anything. Does she usually do all the talking for you?"

"Yessir, ever since we both learned how to talk, she's never stopped," he gave a small grin. "I know, as Jess says, that we really have no right to ask, but you're our, my, last hope. No other treatments have worked, and we've tried everything since we didn't know who or where our father was until just recently."

"So just what is it you have? And why just you and not both of you if you're twins?"

"That's a fair enough question," he replied. "Apparently it's something that only males can develop, or predominantly males anyway. The actual word is about 10 syllables long, but it basically boils down to me needing a liver transplant since my liver is failing, and it should be from a male family member. So, Jessica managed to track you down. It took quite awhile, nobody expected you'd be on the East Coast, even that lady that used to work for you, the PA."

"You mean Patricia?"

"Yes, that's right. She goes by Pat. Anyway, she told us that you never did get in touch with her despite saying you would. I think she even called a lawyer you used to use, and even he didn't have any idea where you were."

"I don't really need to explain, but well, after that, that happened, I just wanted to leave that life and everything that happened behind. I'd succeeded fairly well, too, until yesterday when you two showed up." I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I was, and had been all this time, a father. "So after all these years out of my life, you just show up hoping I'd donate an organ? Sorry, that's a bit blunt, but look at it from my point of view. Until a few minutes ago I never knew you existed." 

"Yes, I, I mean we, appreciate that. It's a lot to ask. Mom doesn't know why we've come here. She doesn't know we found you."

"Okay, as a working hypothesis, if, and I mean a big if, I agree to this, where is this transplant supposed to take place? And what makes you think I'll even qualify? Like, I've never been tested or treated for this stuff."

"Okay, first. We've been working with St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver. If it goes ahead, and we really do understand your reluctance, we're hoping it would be there."

I interrupted, "No way, not in Vancouver. I'm never, ever setting foot back there again, and you can take that to the bank."

"We thought you might say that so we had them contact a hospital here in Halifax. As for testing and treatment, since you're a related male, the only tests required would be to confirm that, and that your liver function is adequate. Then it's just a matter of arranging hospital time and dates." Jessica had this all figured out except for one thing, I hadn't yet agreed to anything so radical. It's not like someone my age just gives up part of a liver, or any other organ, just because we're asked.

We sat in silence for quite a few minutes. Of course my mind was swirling in a hundred different directions. I wasn't all that sure that James and Jessica knew exactly what they were asking, or the implications as far as it related to my future well-being.

I broke the silence, "Look, this is a bit much to digest all at once. I'm going to need time to think this over."

"Of course, we understand Dad. It's sudden and it's a big, huge favour to ask from someone we've just met, and who doesn't know us. We'll leave you to sort it out. We'll be at the Bayview for a couple more days. Maybe do some sightseeing while we're here, since that's why Mom thinks we're here."

She picked up their birth certificates and a few other documents, but left the photos. Bev had been and still was a good looking woman. She'd aged well, better than I had. I assured James and Jessica that I'd be in touch in the next day or so. I needed to talk this over with someone, someone whose judgement I trusted, and wouldn't be tainted by emotion.

I found myself back at my favourite pub. Gail was working, as was another server, but it wasn't all that busy.

"Jack, you're here on a Saturday? Are you okay?" she joked.

"Well, sort of," I replied in a subdued tone. "Gail, I need to talk to someone, someone I can trust. When do you get your break?"

"You're not okay, are you? Why me?" she asked.

"'Cause I can trust you to be objective. You're a people person. I need someone I trust to listen and give me a pointer on how to handle this."

"Okay Jack. I'll let the boss know I'm taking my break early. Why don't you go sit in that booth over there," she pointed to a quiet booth in the far corner, "where we won't be interrupted. You've got me curious and worried now."

"Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about, honest. I just want, no need, your opinion."

"Okay, go sit down. I'll be there in a moment." She went in back to let the boss know her change of plans. Gail is one of the few people I really trust. Her husband is in the Navy, but she made it well known to anybody who tried anything that she was a one man woman. She wouldn't fool around on her husband during his long deployments. That was one of the reasons I valued her opinion. I had a respect for her that I had for very few people. 

She joined me in the booth, bringing coffees instead of the usual beer. I related the story as I knew it to that point, including the fact that Bev didn't know the real reason the kids had travelled down here.

"...so there you have it. I just want your opinion on being a donor. I'm torn between saying no since I don't know them from a hole in the wall to yes because he's my own flesh and blood. I just don't know, Gail, I just don't."

"Well, I don't know that I can give you a totally objective opinion. Simply put, I think of you as a friend. In all the years you've come in here you've never put a move on me or tried to pick me up or anything. You're one of the few who treat me like a real person. But, looking at it from your son's point of view, I can see why they're here. You're his last hope for a fairly normal life."

"So you think I should agree?"

"I didn't say that, I just think that they've run out of choices."

"So, it's me or maybe a machine or even death, is that what you mean?"

"Exactly. What I think is that you should spend a few days with them before deciding. Go sightseeing; show them around as if they're just visitors to the city, which they are. That will give you a chance to get to know them, to see if you even want to consider going ahead. The worst that could happen is that you get to see parts of the city again that you probably haven't seen for awhile."

"God, I'm glad I came and talked to you. I hadn't thought of that at all, and they did mention doing some sightseeing. Thank you Gail, you are a true friend."

"You're more than welcome Jack. Happy to help. Now, I've got to get back to work."

"Oh no, I'm sorry. I talked all through your dinner break."

"Not really. I usually just grab a coffee and put my feet up. I eat when I get home. Jack, I'm glad I could help, really. Now, go sightseeing."

"I'll call them in the morning. Thanks Gail. Goodnight." I left the pub feeling better than I had for quite a few hours. As Gail had said, if nothing else I'd get to visit my city again.

Chapter 4

I called the hotel early the next morning, hoping that Jessica and James hadn't already left on their adventures. I offered to show them around the various sights, and maybe visit a few places that most tourists didn't get to see. I called my boss at home saying it was a family emergency. He said he'd arrange for a substitute for a few days. Well, it might be only a few right now, but maybe more later; I'd know within those few days.

It was fun being a tour guide. I'd forgotten, or at least taken for granted, how much the city had to offer visitors. For 3 days we were on the go from almost dawn to well after dusk. I found that James tired easily, and our pace was more or less dictated by his ability to keep up. I know that in a few places, he was happy to have the wheelchair provided so Jessica or I could push him around.

I found myself warming to these two young, genuine people. There were no airs, no pretensions; just two young, funny genuine people who were happy to have me as a tour guide through this wonderful city. Despite my initial misgivings, I found myself thoroughly enjoying being with them and showing the sites. They frankly admitted that they knew virtually nothing about the East Coast of Canada, other than the little information passed on in history and geography classes. True to my word, I got them into some places that the usual tourist would never see, and avoided some of the worst tourist traps.

Finally, it had to end. Their time was up, and I had to go back to classes for another month. I had decided, even before the last day, that if I qualified, I would be a donor for James. However, I didn't tell them until our last night together at dinner. When I made my surprise announcement, it was met with a stunned silence. They truly hadn't expected me to make a decision so soon. 

"Okay. Now here's how it is. I'm quite willing to be a donor for James if all the tests are okay and the powers that be, whoever they are, decide it can be done. However, there are a couple of stipulations. Agreed?" I would donate, but it would be on my terms.

They nodded, so I continued, "First, it's between the 3 of us, nobody else, including your mother. She is not to know where I am or what I'm doing. You'll probably have to tell her that I'm the donor, but that's all she needs to know. Second, it must take place in early July. That will give me most of the summer to recover. I don't have any idea what the timeframe is, so you'll have to get the clinic to clue me in. Third, the first two conditions are non-negotiable. This is between the 3 of us and the hospital. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, else. Do we understand each other?"

Seven kinds of emotions danced across their faces before Jessica came to my side of the table and gave me a huge hug. James reached across and took my hand in both of his. They were too overcome to speak for a couple of minutes.

Finally Jessica said, "Well, you know how to make a memorable evening. I, we, can't even begin to thank you. We know you've thought a lot about it, so I won't ask if you really mean what you say. As for the rest, well, we'll work it out somehow. I'll call the clinic in Vancouver tomorrow so they can get the ball rolling here. Can I give them your work number as well as home?"

"Sure, and I'll make sure you have my cell too. They can always get hold of me on it."

We finished dinner and, since they had an early flight, we made an early night of it. I was both glad and sad to see them go, but knew I'd be talking to them often over the next few weeks. If everything went according to plan, I'd see them again in early July, about 6 weeks from now. 

I returned to my home and prepared for classes the next day. My students would be taking their certification exams over the next weeks and I was certain there would be a lot of last minute questions. At noon the next day I was just starting my lunch break when my cell warbled an incoming call. It was the transplant clinic; would I be available for initial screening on Friday? I set up a time and arranged for a substitute instructor to take my class for a couple of hours. 

Other than taking a lot of time, like hurry up and wait, the initial testing didn't amount to much; mostly taking numerous vials of blood and pissing in the bottle. If these were good, the next batch would be more thorough. I was able to arrange that any further testing would be done in late afternoon so as not to be too disruptive for my students. I was also able to emphasise to the nurse, very young, very pretty and very officious, that my students took precedence, especially since it was nearing year end.

Over the next few weeks I gave more blood than a vampire, pissed in more bottles than I knew existed and had more interviews than I thought necessary. In the end, I was deemed suitable and now it was up to the hospital to schedule the surgeries. As I told Jessica and James, it had to be early July so I would have the whole summer to recover. During all this time I was getting constant phone calls, text messages and emails from James and Jessica, filling me in on what was happening on the West Coast. Finally I got word that the surgeries, since both James and I had to be done at the same time, were scheduled for July 4. They actually arranged for his surgeon to fly to Halifax to do the actual transplant.

The next thing was accommodation. James would be in hospital for at least a month, probably more and me anywhere up to a month, depending on how well and how fast I healed. I decided to offer my home to Jessica since she would be coming in daily to support James, and for that matter, me, post surgery. She readily accepted, stating that she really hadn't looked forward to living in a hotel for that length of time, especially at the height of tourist season. I had the room, so why not?

They arrived late on the afternoon of July 2nd and were on their way to the hospital early the next afternoon. With some trepidation I entered the hospital in the early evening. James and Jessica were already there and waiting for me since his preparations took longer. They had told me early evening, so early evening it was when I showed up.

They must have an express lane for organ donors since as soon as I told the admitting desk why I was there they couldn't do enough for me. I had my own personal escort to take me to my ward where she sat with me until one of the nurses came in and told her they, meaning the medical staff, would take it from there. I wasn't allowed anything to eat or drink, however I was allowed to suck on ice cubes for my dry throat. Eventually I fell into a restless sleep. A nurse woke me up at some ungodly hour to prep me for surgery, then the gas passer came in to tell me what to expect. The last person I saw before going into surgery was the actual surgeon. He explained, again, exactly what was going to happen, and asked if I had any questions. When I asked why this stuff always takes place at the crack of dawn, he and the nurses laughed and I relaxed a bit. I would be fine.

* * * *

I have no idea what time it was when I regained consciousness. My side hurt abominably and my throat felt dry and raw. It took a few moments to realize where I was, and why I was there. A nurse must have been either sitting with me, or very nearby since she was there almost as soon as I awoke.

"Mr. Ames, welcome back. The surgery went well and you're both recovering. James isn't awake yet. Can I get you anything?"

I'm paraphrasing since I have no idea exactly what she said, only the 'went well' part took hold in my conscience. I must have gone back to sleep. The next time I awoke it was dark. The same nurse must have been waiting for me to regain consciousness again since she was there as soon as I opened my eyes. Now I realized why my throat felt dry and raw; there was a tube stuck down it. That sort of inhibited talking so my responses were limited to nods or shakes of my head. She made some notes on the ubiquitous chart, adjusted something on the IV attached to my arm, and I was asleep again.

The next time I awoke, it was still dark, but that damned tube had been removed from my throat. A different nurse was there now, and she made similar comments as to welcome back, etc. I was able to get her to give me a sip of cold water. It felt like heaven going down my sore throat. Of course, my side and back hurt from where they had removed a piece of my liver; I was just beginning to appreciate why exactly I was in a hospital. The nurse assured me that rest was the best thing for my recovery. The surgeon would be in some time in the morning to see me, and the staff would be happy to give me any help I needed. It would be a few hours before I knew exactly what that would entail. I had no experience with bedpans and the like, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. 

It was about the 4th day since the operation when Jessica came to see me. Oh, she'd been there before, quite a few times, but I wasn't aware enough to realize it. She again expressed her and James' gratitude for donating a piece of my liver. We talked of many mundane things over the ensuing days. She had given my home a thorough cleaning, sort of as therapy to take her mind off of what was going on in the hospital. She had met my partners and told them what was going on and why she was in the house. In all the confusion, I hadn't mentioned it to them for the simple reason I hadn't seen them for what seemed like months. They would make a point of coming to visit before I was sent home. I could tell Jessica was holding something back, but I wasn't in any shape to press the issue. Anyway, whatever it was, there was nothing I could do about it.




The Last to Know



In the early stages of my recovery they had allowed me to see James. I had been assured that the transplant went well and he was recovering nicely. He would, however, spend quite a long time in ICU. I had been moved to a semi-private ward after 2 days. I wondered if James would be moved into the ward with me; it would make sense for us and for visitors.

Early one afternoon I woke up from one of my many naps and sensed that someone was sitting beside my bed. The room was fairly dark, but I could tell it was a 'her' though I couldn't make out any features. Whoever she was, wasn't at first aware I was awake until I stirred and reached to get some water. 

"Hello, Jack," said Bev.

Chapter 5

My name is Beverly Sharon Ames, and this is about how, because of one stupid immature moment, I totally screwed up my life and basically ruined that of a good, innocent man.

Jack and I met in high school and were pretty much inseparable from the start. We dated through university, though we never lived together, and married just after we both graduated. I was a nurse and got hired on as an OR nurse with St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver. Jack had a job waiting for him at a large software development company located near the downtown area.

We had a good life. We made love whenever the urge took us; there was no 'schedule' or date. We were both paid well and were able to buy a small house on a good sized lot in Vancouver's trendy West End. There were, and are, lots of young professionals living in that area. We did all the usual things that young couples do and we had a very active social life. Both of our parents had passed, within months of each other, and it allowed us to be debt free except for the mortgage on our house. It seemed we were always on the go, and loved living that life.

One day I was having lunch with a couple of other nurses in the cafeteria when one mentioned that she had seen my husband, Jack, having lunch with a very attractive woman, and that they seemed to be on more than friendly terms. I thought nothing much of it at the time; Jack was always having lunch with clients or even his team members. 

The following weekend was nothing special until Jack got called into work to help his team troubleshoot a problem they had been working on all weekend. As leader, he usually would only be called in on the weekend if there was some sort of emergency. I didn't see him until late Sunday night, and by the time I got up Monday he had already left for work. I hardly saw him all week; he was gone before me in the morning and usually arrived home late, much later than usual, would have something to eat and collapse into bed, and the whole thing repeated for the entire week.

Because of this, for some reason I remembered the conversation of the previous week and came to the conclusion that he wasn't working, he was having an affair. Stupid and immature, I know. When the situation kept repeating, by Wednesday night I was convinced. Thursday I arranged for an indefinite leave of absence to begin the next day. Of course, Friday he was gone before I got up as he had been all week. Shortly after he left for work, I packed everything I owned, or thought was mine, into my car. I had found, by chance, a fully furnished apartment in the nearby city of Burnaby. I could commute to work by transit since it ran right past the front door of the apartment block. When I left the house for the last time, I never even left a note for Jack to tell him I was pregnant and he was going to be the father of twins, or why I was leaving.

I settled into my apartment and found a lawyer who specialized in divorce cases. After some discussion we decided that the reason would be irreconcilable differences as opposed to adultery since I really had no evidence to support that. I also had him stipulate that my whereabouts or contact information was absolutely not to be provided to Jack or his lawyer. My lawyer received the documents back, signed, about 2 weeks later. Attached was a note from Jack asking why I had left. I never did reply; in hindsight, which is always 20/20, I wish I had, or even better, that he had contested the divorce.

After about 2 months I went back to work. I could work up to about the 8th month of my pregnancy which was going well. Except for the huge hole in my heart, I was doing okay. It must have been about 3 months after the divorce was final that I met his PA, Pat. Of course she accosted me, asking why I had ruined a good man's life; left him without a word. I'm afraid I wasn't very pleasant to her, since I believed at the time I was the wronged party. She adamantly defended Jack and even persuaded me to accompany her back to her office so I could see for myself that Jack was totally innocent.

Pat was able to show me, since she had all his calendars for the years he'd worked there, that the woman in question was head of marketing for the company, and if I wanted confirmation that it was business she, Pat, would arrange a meeting. Everyone knew Jack had a good working relationship with the various department heads. All he had done was have lunch with a colleague.

I'm afraid at that point that I totally lost it. I was embarrassed, of course, but worse I was just now realizing how wrong I had been to doubt the love of my husband, the love of Jack. The enormity set in and the staff at his office, or what used to be his office, almost had to call an ambulance. I was nearly hysterical.

I managed to settle down enough to thank Pat, determine that nobody had heard anything from Jack since he'd quit, and leave her my contact information in case they ever did hear from him. I went back to my apartment and cried myself to sleep. I must have slept, finally, for about 10 hours. I called the lawyer that Jack had used for the divorce and arranged to meet him. He provided me information for a bank account that Jack had opened for me, along with an accounting of the sale of the house. The lawyer had no idea where Jack had gone, and hadn't heard from him since the sale of the house. Jack had disappeared.

Everything I tried came up empty. Nobody we knew or ever socialized with had heard a thing about him or from him since the day of the divorce or since he had left. I was on my own with 2 babies due in a couple of months, and it was nobody's fault but mine.

After the kids were born I went back to work. Because of the money Jack had left for me, we lived better than most single parent families. Jessica and James grew up to be funny, smart young people. They always had good grades throughout school and no parent was prouder when they walked across the stage to graduate from high school. The both had academic scholarships to university.

It was about this time that James became sick. When he finally got to see a specialist, the news wasn't good. He needed a liver transplant from a male donor who was also a family member. I could only think of one possibility, Jack, and nobody knew where he was. I wasn't aware that the kids had managed to find their father using the internet. I seldom used a computer, used to doing things the old fashioned way like telephone and actually writing letters (snail mail as the kids call it). 

After they had graduated they advised me that they were taking a vacation and flying to the East Coast since they had never seen it. Although I was somewhat surprised at their choice, I trust them and they made the arrangements. They left about the middle of May. They returned about 10 days later. I knew from their demeanour that something was going on, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was. There were numerous hushed phone calls, late evening emailing and the like. I could only surmise it had something to do with James illness. The fact that they were actually corresponding with Jack never occurred to me. Dumb, I know, but I didn't understand the power of the internet and how well my kids had adapted to it.

Finally the day came when they were to fly back to Halifax. That's when Jessica broke down and told me everything about why they had gone to the East Coast, how they had found, and met, Jack, and how he had agreed to donate part of his liver to James. That accounted for all the secret phone calls and emails.

I was really pissed at the two of them for holding out on me until they told me of the conditions for the transplant; I was not to be informed, at least his whereabouts. Jessica and James had sat down one night and discussed it at some length. They decided since he was going East for major surgery, I had to be told, even though the one major condition for Jack agreeing to the transplant had been broken. They vowed to keep that betrayal from him.

They flew to the East Coast the next morning. I was torn in 10 different directions. Should I leave things as they are since we had both gone on with our lives? Should I fly down? What would I say to Jack? Could I really expect him to forgive me after all these years? Did I even deserve to be forgiven? I thought and thought about it for 2 days then decided that I would take some vacation time and fly down to Halifax, but I wouldn't tell Jessica or James until I actually arrived. I'd call Jessica on her cell from the Halifax airport.

I flew out to Halifax on the same flight as the kids, only 5 days later. James had had his surgery and was improving daily. Jessica didn't mention Jack. I called Jessica as soon as I got off the plane while waiting for my baggage. Here it was the height of tourist season and I hadn't even booked a hotel room. I hoped I'd be able to stay with Jessica, at least for a few days.

Jessica was a bit upset when I called. It turns out she was living in Jack's house while he was in the hospital. Now I didn't know what to do. Jessica did drive out and pick me up. We talked about it on the way back into Halifax and decided to go straight to the hospital. Accommodations could be sorted out later. First we went to see James. He seemed to be doing quite well, and said he felt a lot better; weak but better. He made a few jokes about his condition; I knew he was on the mend. He hoped to be moved from the ICU in a couple of days.

I didn't want to go, but Jessica dragged me down to Jack's room before she returned to talk to James. It was a two-bed ward, but the second bed was empty. I looked down at the man I had wronged. He was just as I remembered him, though he'd lost some hair and was greying. Other than that, he was almost exactly like I remembered; and exactly who I had loved and wronged.

He awoke, stirred and reached for a water glass. I said, "Hello. Jack."

Chapter 6

It took me a few moments to realize that it was Bev standing there. What was she doing here? How did she know? Jessica and James would have some explaining to do. As it was, I had no desire to interact with Bev, or talk to her at all. I pushed the call button for the nurse who came into the room almost instantly.

"Mr. Ames, are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Yes," I croaked, "get her out of here. I don't want any visitors."

The nurse escorted Bev out before she had a chance to say any more. That part of my life was over and I had no desire to re-visit it. 

Jessica came into the room a short time later, after visiting James. "Dad, I'm sorry. We told her before we flew out here, but didn't know she was going to fly out as well. I didn't know until she called me from the airport."

"What does the phrase 'between the 3 of us' mean to you? You and James gave me your word. Looks to me like you can't be trusted." I managed to croak out.

"Dad, I hoped you wouldn't feel that way. Yes, we had to tell her. She would have figured it out anyway. She's an OR nurse for god's sake. I honestly had no idea she would fly down here. Can we talk about this later? We have to find somewhere for her to stay."

In my croaking voice I said, "If I was feeling any better, you both would be looking. I'm really, really pissed and disappointed in you. When you give your word it's supposed to mean something, it builds a trust. If you break your word, you break the trust. You're going to find life really hard if you can't keep your word. Now get out of here. I don't want to talk to you." I turned my head away so she couldn't see the hurt in my eyes. She left the ward, quietly crying. 

Eventually I went back to sleep. As the doctor said, rest was the best medicine. It was easy to get my body to rest, I was too sore to move much, but not so easy for my mind. I was really pissed at the two kids, well, young adults I guess. But as much as I was upset, I felt that sometime I should hear from Bev exactly why she left me without a word. I'd have to think about it for awhile. I was far too tired and upset to think rationally.

* * * *

At Jessica's suggestion and Gordon and Heather's insistence after Jessica asked them, Bev moved into the 3rd bedroom of Jack's home. She didn't have too many affordable choices. The room was pretty much bare except for a bed and nightstand; obviously it was used mostly for storage.

Heather came over shortly after Bev and Jessica arrived from the hospital. She knew about Jessica and James, but nothing of Bev, or even who she was. After meeting Bev, Heather knew this situation was going to be, to say the least, awkward. She knew Jack was divorced, of course, but he had never discussed the matter. She knew he seemed content to live by himself and have a quiet, uneventful life.

Over coffee the 3 women discussed what should be done. It wouldn't be fair to ask Bev to move, and there was little likelihood of her finding somewhere to stay for more than a night or two. After a lot of talking about the various alternatives, they decided that Bev would stay there, at least for the time being, and nothing would be said to Jack. If she was still here when he was released from hospital, they would deal with that at that time.

The following day Jessica and Bev went to visit James. They didn't want to take a chance of further aggravating Jack so didn't go to his room, or even let him know they had been visiting. They were still with James when Gordon and Heather came to visit Jack.

* * * *

The next day my partner and his wife showed up for a visit. They were busy helping at the campground; it was that time of year, and it was pretty much full every night. Gordon said the usual platitudes and hoped I'd get well. Heather, on the other hand, said she wanted to get something off her chest. She had met and chatted with both Jessica and Bev yesterday.

"Jack, I know it's not my, Gordon and me, it's not our place to tell you how to run your life. But I have to say this. You really should talk with those 2 women. I think Jessica is more upset at herself than you for not keeping her word. After she left the hospital yesterday, she was feeling pretty miserable. Yes, she broke her word, but to a certain extent you have to look at it from her point of view. They were coming here so her brother could have major surgery. Bev is a nurse, there's no way on God's Green Earth they'd be able to hide that from her. They did well to keep the secret as long as they did."

"Uh huh," I muttered, "where I come from your word means everything. If they wanted to tell their mother, why didn't they ask me first?"

"I can't answer that. All I can say is they're both extremely grateful to you for your sacrifice, and yes, that's exactly what it is. I, me and Gordon, don't know the story with your ex, you've never mentioned it and we didn't feel it to be in our place to ask. My point is, now that she's here, maybe you should sit down and talk with her once you're out of here and feeling better. She says she'll be here for a few weeks, until James is back on his feet."

"And exactly what would that do beside dredge up memories best forgotten?" I wasn't going to let her off that easy. "I have a life here, a good life. I'm quite content living the way I do. All those memories will just bring back the hurt and betrayal. I don't need that."

Heather was more insightful than I gave her credit for, "Yeah, you're content, but you're not happy. There's a huge difference. You teach, you consult then you go home to that huge empty house. You may be content, but that's all you are, and you're content by yourself."

"Yeah, you're right. But if want to argue about it, you'll lose. I'm by myself by choice. After what Bev did to me I made a pact with myself that I would never, ever allow myself to be put in a position where that could happen again. I made that pact to myself over 20 years ago, and I haven't seen one single thing that would make me change my mind, nothing," my voice was quickly tiring, as was I. This was taking more out of me than I had to give. "Look, I appreciate what you're saying. We'll agree to disagree on this. Now, I'm getting pretty tired and losing my voice. Can we do this another day?"

"Of course Jack. Sorry to lecture you. Sometimes I get carried away." She gave me a light peck on the cheek and left, followed by Gordon after he just patted me on the shoulder and gave me a small grin. He didn't need to say anything; he could sense what I was thinking.

Over the ensuing few days I received more and more visits from the surgeon who had operated on me. I should have been getting stronger, but wasn't. The doctor who performed the actual transplant had returned to British Columbia as soon as he was satisfied that James was on the mend. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had developed a post-operative infection and was running a fever. Antibiotics were having little effect and it looked like they might have to open me up again. That decision was made for them when I lapsed into unconsciousness in the middle of the night. I guess all the machines I was hooked up to started beeping and sounding some kind of alarm. I didn't wake up until 2 days later; I was back in ICU.

A nurse was in the room with me, monitoring everything, taking temperatures, blood pressure and all the rest of it. She saw that I was sort of awake.

"Mr. Ames. Welcome back. We were really worried about you. I'll let the surgeon know you're back with us. Be right back." She quickly left the room, only to reappear a few minutes later. "Okay, we advised the surgeon. He's in OR right now but will come in as soon as he's finished there. Meanwhile, you just rest. Someone will be with you at all times until they tell us different."

I just nodded my head a bit. I couldn't do much else with a tube down my throat and wires running everywhere. When I awoke awhile later the surgeon was in the room discussing me, quietly, with the nurse. They noticed that I was again conscious.

"Mr. Ames. I'm Dr. Hartley. You gave us quite a scare. You developed a post-op infection from your first surgery when you donated part of your liver. We tried to fight it with just antibiotics but they didn't work. I had to operate again to discover the source of the infection. You had an abcess; we don't know exactly why, but it does happen. You're on very strong antibiotics and will be for awhile. Your fever has abated somewhat, but we'll be monitoring you here in ICU for a few days. You just continue to rest. That's the best medicine we can give you. I'll check in everyday. Meanwhile, the staff will take good care of you." He made some notes on my chart and left the room.

The nurse came over and fluffed my pillow and asked if I was comfortable. I didn't honestly know. I hurt all over. Mercifully I went back to sleep. 

The next time I woke up Jessica was sitting beside my bed, reading a novel. As soon as she noticed I was awake she left to let the nurses know and came back.

"Dad. We were so scared. We, me and James, don't want to lose you again." She looked like she was crying, or at least had been. "As soon as a nurse comes, I'll go let James know. He's worried sick. He's getting better and might be released in a few weeks. He's down in the same room you were in before they had to operate again."




The Last to Know



I could only nod my head slightly. That damn tube was still down my throat. It had been sore and raw before, now it was worse. A nurse came in to check my vital signs. Sort of redundant since that's what the machines were doing, but I guess they needed a person to actually do it once in awhile. She made a note on the chart and told me that as soon as Dr. Hartley was available they'd get the tube removed from my throat. I guess I was well enough to breathe on my own, again. Jessica had freed up the staff by agreeing to sit with me. The nurses weren't too far away, and checked everything frequently.

I went back to sleep; again. I was having this weird dream. Someone was talking to me; telling me about their life. I couldn't tell who it was, but I thought I should know this person. I was fairly certain it was a female, but I couldn't see any features. The voice was quiet and comforting. I slept on.

Sometime later I'm not sure if I woke up or just regained consciousness. Light was streaming into the room through the half open blinds. I could see someone standing there, looking out the window, but had no way of knowing who it was. To my eyes it was just a silhouette. I ached all over and my throat felt raw from that damn tube still in it. The machines surrounding me continued their monotonous beep, beep, beep. 

The silhouette turned and walked back toward my bed. Finally I could see her features. It was Bev. Now I was confused. What was she doing here? And why am I here? And where is here, exactly? These thoughts came flooding through my mind as I tried to figure out what was going on. Gradually it came back; the transplant, the infection. But that didn't explain Bev. She wasn't supposed to be here.

As I found out later, Jessica had agreed to sit with me for most of the day. Of course she wanted to be with her brother who was apparently well on the mend. Bev had agreed to sit with me during the late evening and (really) early morning hours, usually from about 11:00PM to 6:00AM. The reasoning was that I would probably be okay with Jessica, but not with Bev. The reasoning was correct.

A few days after I was again removed from ICU and put in a semi-private ward, Jessica came in to visit after having visited James, who was in a ward across the hall from mine. He, too, was in a semi-private ward, and like me, had no roommates at the present time. Anyway, Jessica came in with an envelope in her hand. 

"Dad. Hi. How are you feeling?" she did the normal platitudes. 

I was still a bit pissed at her and James for breaking their word, at least without talking to me first. I had already talked to her about that, and didn't want to bring up the subject again. 

"Hi Jess. How's James doing? He should be up and around soon, no?"

"He's doing good Dad. He's up and walking a bit, and you should be too."

"Yeah, I know. Probably tomorrow if Dr. Hartley gives the go ahead." I was curious about the envelope, but didn't ask. I didn't even know if it was for or about me. If it was I'd find out soon enough. The answer to my unasked question arrived almost immediately.

"Dad. I know you don't want to talk about Mom. Please, just hear me out. I already told you about what happened after you left Vancouver. I don't know the whole story of course since we weren't around then. Mom wrote you a letter, a long one, explaining what happened and why. All I, well me and James, ask is that you at least read it." With some trepidation Jessica handed me the envelope. I didn't open it; time enough for that later.

"So, your mother is still here?"

"Yes, and before you ask, she's been staying with me at your house." I was almost ready to become unglued at the unwanted and, to my mind, unwarranted intrusion into my life when she quickly continued, "I talked it over with your partners since you weren't in any shape to talk to us, me. Anyway, they suggested that she stay with me since you weren't there anyway. She's used the small 3rd bedroom. I, well, we all know you won't like it, and believe me we understand, but she had nowhere else to go."

I was, as she had surmised, well and truly pissed at the whole bunch of them, my partners included. "She could have gone back home to Vancouver, or better yet stayed there," I said. I tried, unsuccessfully to keep the anger out of my voice.

"Dad, that was the plan. As soon as James was out of ICU and on the mend she was going to go back to Vancouver. Then you got that infection. Dad, every night while you were in ICU she sat with you, all night. I was there during the day and she was with you every night. I know you probably don't remember but she talked to you and basically said everything that's in the letter." She was pleading; on the verge of bursting into tears.

"And I guess everything is supposed to be just hunky dory and back to normal. I don't think so."

"Nobody expects that, Dad. Mom just wants you to hear from her what happened and why. That's all. She has no expectations."

"That's good, because I'm not even sure if I want to read her explanation. That happened a long time ago and I have no interest in revisiting the past. If anything, I'd prefer it stay buried. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm tired." I rolled over on my good side, summarily dismissing her. I could hear her crying as she left the ward and closed the door.

I got the okay from Dr. Hartley to start walking, at first up and down the hall of the wards then I'd progress to the treadmill in the physiotherapy unit. I have to say, that if this is what old age feels like, I want to die young. It took days before I could walk the length of the hallway unaided, and that was only a matter of a hundred feet or so. My time on the treadmill was measured, at first in seconds, and later in minutes. It took weeks before I felt that I was walking at a somewhat normal pace.

Two days after Jessica had dropped off the letter from Bev I finally got around to reading it. I didn't want to at first, since I sort of knew what was coming from my talks with Jessica and James, but I'd never, at least consciously, heard it from Bev herself.

Letter from Bev to Jack:

Dear Jack

Now that I've found you, or at least Jessica and James have, I feel it my responsibility to tell you what happened and why over 20 years ago. This is not to excuse my actions. I wronged you totally. Everything that happened after I left you is my fault. I have lived with my guilt ever since that terrible time.

This is what I did, and why. 

About a week before I left you I was having lunch with a couple of fellow nurses. One of them mentioned that she had seen you having lunch with a beautiful woman, and that you appeared to be more than friendly. I didn't think anything of it at the time because you always told me you were having lunch with clients or colleagues. Anyway, the following Sunday you got called into work. Your team was having trouble with some code they were working on or something. You came home late and were gone the next morning before I was up. This repeated for the rest of the week. I never saw you. You came home after I'd gone to bed and were gone in the morning before I was awake. By Wednesday I remembered the conversation with the other nurse. I was convinced, I convinced myself, that you were having an affair. Thursday I arranged for an immediate leave of absence and planned to leave the house, our house, after you had gone to work on the Friday, and that's what I did. 

Jack, I was so, so wrong. I jumped to the conclusion that you were having an affair. With the hours you were putting in I didn't see you at all that week. Instead of calling your office and talking to you, or waiting up until you got home, in my mind I'd already decided that I was leaving you to your new lover. Jack, if that's what made you happy, I was willing to get out of your life, totally. I didn't understand it since I thought we were happy, so much in love. I should never have doubted that. That's why I gave my lawyer instructions about not revealing my whereabouts. 

You didn't fight the divorce. I didn't answer the note you sent back with the divorce papers since you only asked why I had left and I assumed that you already knew. I don't know why, but if you had fought the divorce or I had answered your note, my mistake could have been corrected and our lives would have been totally different. I didn't want to tell you about the twins. If you weren't going to be their Dad, you had no reason to know about them. 

Jack, it just tore me up. I was bitter for a long, long time. It wasn't until I ran across your PA, Pat, in a supermarket that I found out how wrong I was. She talked me into going back to her (your) office and checking your appointment calendar. We determined that you were having lunch with the manager of marketing. I admit that she is a beautiful woman, but as I found out, she was very married and would not have thought of having an affair, with you or anyone else. You were just having lunch with a colleague. Pat offered to let me talk to her, but by now I realized what I had done, how much I had wronged you. 

I still had a couple of months until the twins were born and did what I could to find you during that time. Jack, dear Jack. I was so wrong. You had disappeared and it was totally my fault. The children would not have a dad while they were growing up. I spent a long time in therapy, learning to live with my guilt. It's never left me, the guilt. I just learned how to accept that it will always be part of me, and tried to get on with my life.

I kept our wedding portrait on the mantle of the house where I raised the twins. I know now that Jessica made a copy and gave it to you. I have many others, of us or the twins or with me and the twins. Instead of having you, the man that I loved totally, all I had was a memory. 

I never, ever wanted to be in a situation where I could so grievously hurt someone else again so I never remarried. Actually I hardly ever dated in all these years. As much as I wounded you, I had also wounded myself. And I have never, not ever forgiven myself for what I did to you. I have always hoped that you were happy with your new life, wherever it was.

You have met Jessica and James. They are two wonderful kids who managed to grow up without a Dad. They asked about you, naturally, but I could only tell them what I had done. I didn't know until a few days ago where you were. If it hadn't been for Jessica and her knowledge of computers and how to get information from the internet, I'm afraid that I would have died with the guilt I have, and you would never have known. 

I can't speak to the generosity you have shown James. How does one describe giving back a chance for a normal life. You did that Jack, without having had the joy of watching your children grow up, to be with them at their sporting events, to see them grow and mature into two wonderful, young adults. You weren't there for any of the highs and lows while they grew up. You weren't there and it was all my fault, not yours.

Dear Jack. I don't expect you to forgive me, although I hope beyond hope that at sometime you'll at least not hate me. You don't and didn't deserve what I did to you.

I do so much want to sit down and talk to you, to hear the voice I missed so much. To tell you in person how much you still mean to me. I understand if you don't want to talk with me, but I'm hoping you will.

Love

Bev

Whew! That was quite a letter. Yes she accepted blame, but also revived a bunch of memories I had thought I had left far behind; a life that used to be a long, long time ago. It was evident that Bev had no expectations of me one way or the other. I wasn't sure how to, or even if I should, answer it.

Jessica came into see me later that day after I'd read the letter. She didn't mention it. James was up and walking. Since his surgery was a lot more intensive than mine, I quickly passed his level of convalescence. He would be in the hospital for at least another three weeks; me, maybe a week or week and a half. If Bev was staying until James was out of the hospital, my home could become a very interesting place to live. Or not. I began to explore alternatives. I didn't think I was ready, or even wanted, to face the situation awaiting me back at the campground.

Salvation of a sort came from my partners. If I wanted, I could bunk at their place until Bev and Jessica were gone. They had a granny suite down in the basement that was mine to use as long as I wanted. This immediately solved two problems; where Bev would stay once I returned home, and the awkward situation that would have resulted if she stayed in the house. They arranged with Jessica to bring some of my clothes over. I wouldn't need much since I wouldn't be doing much of anything except walking and going to physio at the hospital. I was released from the hospital a week later.

Chapter 7

I read and reread the letter many times over the next few days. I was also remembering that voice I thought I heard, either in my sleep or when I was unconscious. From what Jessica had told me, the voice could only have been Bev's since she had sat with me all night, every night while I was in ICU, and Jessica did say that Bev talked to me while she was there.

Jessica was a frequent visitor and my partners began to treat her like an older daughter, an addition to the brood they already had. James was healing and would soon be released from hospital, then they would all return to Vancouver and I could have my house back. 

Jessica sat down with me one afternoon to advise me of the proposed timeline then said, "Dad. I know what you're going to say to this, but please hear me out. It's Mom. I'm worried about her. Now that she knows where you are, all the guilt she felt is coming back to the surface. I told you about her years in therapy just so she could at least live with it. Dad, it's tearing her apart. She doesn't expect you to forgive her, but she doesn't want you to hate her either. Could you just talk to her before we go back home? Please."

"I don't, and didn't hate her. It took a long time for me to get over her, to accept that she was gone. Why would I want to revisit all of that?"

"Maybe because you still care, still care for her in your subconscious?"

"Years ago you would have been right. Now, I don't think so. She's just someone from my distant past, someone I used to know. The fact that she's your mother has nothing to do with it; neither does the fact that I'm your father. I was never your Dad."

"Dad, I, we, know all that. It wasn't your fault, something Mom always said. What is past can't be undone, but maybe you could at least see if you want to start over. If nothing else, become a friend to her, to us."

"With you and Jamie, I planned to become part of your lives in any case, since I'm now part of Jamie, or he's part of me, or something. But I'm not all that sure that I want to, or even should, revisit the past. I've built a good life here and have accepted that I'm by myself; and that's by my choice. I haven't seen or heard one thing from anyone that makes me want to change that."

"Yeah, but like Heather says, you're not happy."

"That's right, and you know something? That's not at all bad. I'm content with my life. I don't need excitement or any of the rest of it. Happy died a long time ago, the day your mother left me without explanation. I don't expect to see happy again in my lifetime. Revisiting what used to be or could have been surely won't change that. What used to be or what could have been are meaningless and there's nothing I can think of that would change my thinking on it."

"So you won't see her, talk to her?"

I thought about it for a few seconds then said, "Tell you what, for you and James I'll meet with her for a few minutes. Don't read anything into it. I'm doing it for you two. After that, once I'm mobile I'll just get on with my life here."

She profusely thanked me and literally skipped out of the basement suite and to her rental car. She'd bring Bev over the next day before my scheduled trip to physiotherapy.

The next afternoon, just after I'd finished lunch they drove up. The door was open since it was a nice day. I just waved them in when Jessica knocked on the doorframe. Bev looked almost the same as when I'd last really seen her so many years ago. I felt a little tug at my heart upon seeing her, but it soon went away.

"Hello Jack," she greeted me. "Thank you for agreeing to see me. It means alot. You're looking good, a bit older, but the same as I remember."

"Hello Bev. Come in and sit down." Jessica made like she was going to leave, so I added, "You too, Jessica. I want you here for this since you did all the arranging."

"But Dad..."

"Stay. You don't have to talk but you stay." She sat down like an obedient puppy. Bev sat beside her on the sofa and I took the recliner.

"So what did you want to see me for Bev? To make sure I don't hate you? Hoping something will happen between us?" My voice was flat, not angry or upset or anything, just flat.

"Jack, I just wanted to thank you for what you did for James. And yes, I'm hoping you don't hate me. I don't expect anything, honestly, but I'm hoping you no longer hate me."

"Bev, I never did hate you. It took me years to get over the hurt and betrayal I felt and I have no desire to revisit all that. What I did for James, well, it was the right thing to do. I plan on being part of Jessica and James's lives from now on, but between us I don't want or expect anything. We'll be acquaintances, but that's all. I've got a good life here. I'm content and don't need any more than I've got."

"I am glad Jack. Really. What I did, well, you know how I feel. I wrote that letter from my heart. You would be justified in hating me, but I've hoped beyond hope that you don't ever since I found out that Jessica and James had found you. You say you don't and never did hate me. I really have no right to ask for more, and I won't. As for the kids, we welcome you to be part of their lives. You deserve that, at least. You're welcome to visit anytime you want."

"That won't happen, Bev. I won't ever set foot in Vancouver or the Lower Mainland again. I told Jessica and James that, and I meant it. If Jessica and James want me to visit, either they come here or it's somewhere neutral. But it won't be in the Vancouver area. And that is not negotiable."

"I understand Jack. I think I might feel the same way. But one last thing before we go. You should get hold of Pat, the woman that used to be your PA. She'd love to hear from you. She doesn't know you've been found, but I suspect either Jessica or James, or both, will be telling her." They got up from the sofa and headed toward the door. 

Jessica came over and gave me a hug, tears running down her face. "Dad, thanks for everything. We fly out in 2 days then you can have your house back. If James is up for it, I'll bring him over tomorrow." 

She walked out the door, followed by Bev who turned as if to say something.

"Goodbye Bev," I said, and closed the door quietly behind them.



The Last to Know



I nodded and took another sip of my drink - I was trying to hide the fact that listening to Janet's tale had made me rock hard. It was just at that moment I was glad she hadn't noticed because I really didn't want to advertise the fact just at that point. Janet took my silence as a signal to carry on.

"Brett finished his cold coffee without saying much more and then looking very thoughtful went back outside. I, of course, just went and got dressed. A little time later the carpenter arrived with a couple of guys carrying floorboards - so your darling wife had just 'fucked' the foreman in payment for the extra items. 

"So that's the point it all started. 

"The only trouble was I enjoyed it. Brett came back in later in the day to check how they were getting on and out of their hearing again started to apologise. I stopped him and just said that I knew he and you had a drink together occasionally and you must never know. Which is what had happened until that bloody piece I wrote was published and you read it. Which you weren't meant to do!"

At that point Janet visibly wilted and sat back down. She looked at me and then realised I was desperately trying hide a huge, hard erection. 

"God, I've made you hard!" That was all she said before coming across and checking it out. "Good!" was all she could say, "Because I'm wet again just telling you. I want you inside me -- now!"

And she started undressing in front of me.

I followed suit and I think it was a race as to who got there first. Janet had a look in her eyes I'd never seen before as she pushed me down onto the bed and then straddled and impaled herself on me. She slid down slipping that hot, wet, buttery pussy onto me in one go and then we tried to fuck ourselves into next week. 

Except of course we didn't.

Last long that is.

We both came hard, and long, and wet, very wet with the biggest orgasm we'd either of us had in a very long time. She lay on my chest, both of us still breathing hard. I kissed her and asked, "So that was it then - just that one time?" 

She sort of sighed. "No - I'll tell you about the others later."



Chapter 4 - the saga continues.

We decided we both felt a bit more normal having got things off our respective chests and were both hungry enough to eat now, so after showering and dressing quickly, we went down to the restaurant before it closed. I also decided that while the meal was being prepared that maybe we might stay another night or two, so while we waited I excused myself and went and organised another couple of nights. As luck would have it, it was quiet this early in the year and they could, quite happily it must be said, fit us in.

After dinner, at Janet's request we went back to our room. After all there was both an unopened bottle of wine and I guess, some unfinished business to learn about. Janet, having realised I was not going to go up in smoke and flames and was, in fact, turned on by her story, was now a little more relaxed about what had happened. I have to say I was simply amazed at the apparent transformation from one extreme to the other. We sat back down and Janet curled her feet underneath her.

"I suppose you'd better know the rest of the sordid details?" she said with a little grimace. 

I just nodded.

"Well Brett was off-site the next couple of days so I didn't see him at all. The carpenters finished the work upstairs in the roof space and went back to their other work. 

You came and went, just eating and sleeping in the house - I got my usual lack of attention but now I wasn't quite so worried and in any case I was used to it from you." 

Now it was my turn to grimace at her turn of phrase.

"In fact it was the end of the week, the Friday morning, before Brett came back into the kitchen. Again on his own. 

"I was stood in there between doing things and had just put the kettle on. Once again it was quiet and in any case as you know we weren't overlooked. The door had been open as normal so he just came in and actually startled me a little when he said hello. He was still very quiet about what had happened so I decided to maybe try and set him at ease a little. I went over to him, put my hands on his shoulders and kissed him. 

"He actually blushed. Especially when I thanked him and said that I needed what had happened as much as he did and that I had enjoyed it and he wasn't to worry. I'm not sure how it happened but we were back in our bedroom and fucking like rabbits inside a couple of minutes, and it was good. Sven, I enjoyed it. It was good and I wanted it and once again it filled a need. 

"As I was already nearly two months into my pregnancy, he couldn't 'knock me up' so we just fucked, bareback, without worry. But this time with a towel underneath us. Brett was also unusual in that both before and after he fucked me he loved to eat my pussy. 

"As I didn't know how he was very patient and gently persuaded me to make love to his cock with my mouth. The first time he told me was going to come, so he didn't come in my mouth - it was a hell of a rush to think I'd made him do that and to watch the great gobs of cum spurt out on my breasts. A few days later he didn't tell me and the first spurt was in my mouth. I choked a bit on it but realised the taste actually wasn't too bad and so the next time I just let it happen and I rapidly began to look forward to it. In the end I also loved to take him in my mouth and I often let him come and always swallowed his juices. I sometimes also cleaned him off after our sex sessions, just as he did me. You have to realise that it was a transition point for me. From 'Good Girl' to being a 'Bad Girl' - trashy behavior - almost a bit of tramp! So different from the old me!!"

All I could think listening to Janet was what a hell of a revelation that was as she'd never done that for me!

"Not long afterwards you were promoted and transferred back south again. After that I think Brett and I fucked every day until the doctor told me that sex between you and I ought to wait until after the Baby was born. Obviously he didn't know I had a lover, but from then on Brett and I only ever had oral sex."

"Jeez!" I said, "I guess that perhaps you didn't miss me quite as much as I worried about then. Was Brett the only one?" I thought maybe I ought to clear up that point as well.

"I was going to come to that - as it turned out, no, he wasn't. Though looking back at it now I'm not too proud about it. However there is one thing you ought to know before I continue."

"OK!" I replied, "Go on then."

"All this was the reason I didn't kick up a fuss when you had that six month affair eight years ago."

"Bugger! And I thought I'd been discreet and got away with it!"

Now it was Janet's turn to raise an eyebrow. 

"You must be joking!" she said. "At least in my case Brett and I may have been screwing around, at one stage right under your nose, but you didn't either notice or find out. When you had your affair I knew about it within a week of the start. I can read you like a book and I knew. 

"I even guessed who it was. I just decided I had no right to confront you with it - I couldn't be that hypocritical. But let me carry on. 

"When the loft had been done and before you were posted South, Brett came to me for his afternoon session, and after we'd fucked he said to me 'You'd like Gary.' 

"Gary was the electrician and a little bit younger, slightly shy but in a quiet sort of a way quite dishy."

"Hmm - I remember him," I said, "Wasn't it he who wired the extension to the garden workshop?"

"That's right. But that was a little later - I asked Brett why I'd like him. Brett told me he was reputed to be hung like a horse and also was a very interesting shape. I just laughed and told him that actually 'hung like a horse' wasn't that much to write home about as I had quite enough of that with you and it hadn't always been that comfortable. Brett told me that with a little 'encouragement' from me that Gary would put decent lighting up in the loft for us. 

"I have to admit that your demure little wife was enjoying the attention and of course the sex, so on the spur of the moment I said, 'OK but no-one else and he, Gary that is, would need to be very discreet.' A little later that day Gary came by for his afternoon mug of tea and mentioned that Brett said I had a job for him to look at. Well by then I'd decided how I was going to play it, and so I'd changed into a short skirt and I wasn't wearing any knickers. Brett liked me shaved as well so I was quite bald down there so he wasn't going to be under any illusions"

"Bloody hell!" I interjected "and you told me the doctor had told you to remain shaved after that internal he'd given you!"

Janet laughed. "You really were very naive you know, it was almost too easy to misdirect you when you were home. The big thing was that the boys, the workmen that is, still kept coming round and we always still had that little bit of banter so you wouldn't get suspicious. 

"Anyway, I said to Gary follow me up to the loft and I'll show you what needs doing. 

As I said now the weather was warmer I had a shortish skirt on and of course no knickers. I climbed the steep, folding stairs up to the loft and waited, stood at the top, so that Gary got a good eyeful as he climbed up behind me. By the time he got there I was wet in anticipation and he was desperately trying to hide a huge boner. 

"I grinned at him and just said 'I see you liked the view' as I held his cock through his trousers and he went bright red and started to stutter his protest. I unzipped him and pulled out the most amazing cock I've ever seen, not that I've seen that many. At that point it amounted to yours, Brett's and then Gary's. 

"It was literally shaped like a curved scimitar and about as long and thick as you, but shaped the same as a normal banana is. Probably about the same length as you but oh so curved. I couldn't resist eating him as best as I could, even though the shape made it quite difficult. 

"On that occasion I didn't want to waste what was about to come so for his first time I just spread my legs and bent forward over a chair that we were storing up there. He didn't need asking twice, flipped my skirt up my back and I got speared and fucked from behind. That curve hit all the right places and I was coming almost straight away which was just as well because he didn't last long. 

"He came like a fire-hose. 

"So then I took him downstairs and we fucked on the bed for about an hour - that shape was sensational in what it did for me. In the end we only stopped that day because we heard your car as you arrived home unexpectedly early from work. It was a very close call, Gary only just got out the back door as you put your key in the front one. It was as well by then I had grabbed my stretchy jeans as I was anxious in case I was leaking inside them, that why I went and sat on the lavatory as you came in!

I did feel a little guilty that night - for the first time in a long while you wanted some loving and I told you no, it had been a bad day, I was too sore. I was, but not from anything to do with the baby!

"Actually the next day I had to restrict myself to giving them blow-jobs - my pussy was still too sore after Gary's battering and size for the first time."

"So it was just Brett and Gary?" I asked.

Janet blushed and said, "Yes. The others knew we were 'playing' but in the end it was just Brett nearly every day and Gary two or three times a week."

I said, "Well I did ask and I did want to know. Now, it's gone midnight, perhaps we ought to go to bed."

Which we did and Janet finding, not surprisingly, that I was achingly hard, having listened to the litany of what was effectively hard-core porn, decided that it was too good to waste and so had her very wicked way with me before we went to sleep.



5 - A new Day dawns

I was wakened very pleasantly by the oral ministrations being carried out on my still aching cock. It was as pleasant as it was unusual. Janet had, as I said earlier up to this moment never given me, her husband of over 40 years, a proper blow-job. 

Indeed it was only when she had been talking to me about her skills with both Brett and Gary that I even knew she could or would do so. All I'd ever had in all our time married was a cursory lick as a sop to my requests as 'nice girls' didn't do that sort of thing! 

The blow-job I was getting just at that point, however, was world class and when the inevitable happened Janet had a good mouthful, which was shown to me and then swallowed - better than any porn star and a first for me from my wife. 

I decided that it might not be a good idea to tell her at that point that during my affair I'd had a series of great BJ's then. I didn't even mind Janet's sticky kiss and taste of my own sperm that followed. I guessed that if I complained my first BJ might also turn into my last - so nothing was said.

We showered, dressed and went down for breakfast. Janet was now a lot more relaxed and easier than she had been the night before. Over a coffee we quietly mulled over some of the facets of what she had told me. She had no idea why Brett appealed to her in the way he had, almost because he was not a polished performer, rather, being a builder by profession, he was a slightly rough character not a smoothie trying to charm his way into Janet's pants. 

Over Janet's shoulder I watched, surprised, as Brett came into the room for his breakfast. I had a sudden though so before he came into her view I quite abruptly asked the direct question, "If you could would you fuck him again?"

There was just the merest hint of a hesitation which told me what I wanted to know and if I'd missed that the deepening blush that followed it up would have given her away anyway. So I said, "If you would like to, you might just get that chance while we're here - he's just walked into the dining room and if you so wish I won't stand in your way. Go ask him." 

Janet looked at me as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing, so I continued, "Go with him to his room, I don't want to watch, but I do want you to tell me about it afterwards. 

"I'm going to walk down to the high street to pick up a newspaper, and I'll have a coffee in that coffee shop we noted yesterday. I'll be back sometime later - I'll see you in our room afterwards. It's a one-time thing so don't think about it too long or waste it. Have fun." And without looking at him directly I walked out of the dining room, picked up a jacket from our car parked out the front of the hotel and without a backward glance walked off into town. 

It was close to two hours later when I walked back into the Hotel Lobby and almost literally bumped into Brett who was in the process of leaving, having just checked out. 

So what do you say to the man who in the past cuckolded you and who you now suspect has just been screwing the bejasus out of your wife for the past hour or so. 

He solved it for me. 

Looking me straight in the eye he said, "Thank you Sven, you've a very civilised way of dealing with life - Janet's very lucky and I suspect so are you." 

So saying he shook my hand and carried on. Out of the hotel door and out of our life for the last time. 

I went up to our room to find Janet sitting there. 

She smiled at me and said "Thank you - that was special. Now, I've not showered, so for the second time in your life would you like sloppy seconds? Only this time you'll know 'cos I'm telling you."

My answer? Well, what do you think?



Epilogue

We checked out later the same day driving back across the border into England and the long drive home to where we now live in the South West. During that drive we pondered over the previous couple or three days, and how they had finally cleared the air between us. 

I did ask her why she wrote to the Agony Aunt. Her answer was that maybe she wanted it to come out into the open between us and wanted to see what the woman would say as to how she might achieve that aim. Let's just say it wasn't along the lines of what had actually happened as I was never meant to see it, and even if I had, Janet thought I would never make the connection as I had done. In fact it had now opened up new horizons for us. Janet only asked me one question about my affair with our best friend, which had occurred shortly after that friend had lost her husband. No, I'm not particularly proud of it, I had been comforting the widow and yes, the trouble was we had both enjoyed it - immensely - and probably still would be now if we had half the chance.

So the answer to Janet's question was just that. 

Why had we stopped? Because we were becoming too dependent on each other and in the end Sally had decided that she didn't want to come between her two best friends. 

In fact I told Janet that Sally had set a pre-condition for us ever having sex together again. 

Janet of course asked what that was. 

I said it was very simple. That she, Janet, had to tell Sally, that she, Sally could borrow me for the night, the day, the weekend. 

The telling had to be in front of me - to her, Sally's, face. 

Sally's shortly coming to stay with us for a week's vacation. 

By the glint in Janet's eye I think it entirely possible that I may be going to be quite busy keeping two very good friends and horny lovers happy.


©Sven the Elder.
March 2012.