5 comments/ 9271 views/ 0 favorites Hand of Fate By: BilyumQ Everyone who knew twenty-nine year old Gregory Hunt thought of him as a workaholic and this was probably as good a description of him as any. But his commitment to his work at Turner & Marks was not necessarily one of absolute loyalty to the company. No, the reason for his dedication was more because all Gregory had in his life was the job. Both inside and out of work he knew loads of people but none he could truly call friend, no one he could really turn to in a pinch. If he were honest with himself he'd have realized he'd never had a true friend and had always been a loner. Gregory wasn't a virgin but couldn't remember the last time he'd been out on a date much less had sex. In fact it had been almost two years since his last date and that had ended at the girl's front doorway with a quick peck on the cheek and a 'Thanks for dinner'. So to satisfy his carnal urges most night's Gregory took things in hand, if you know what I mean. His coworkers liked him well enough but not so much to include him in their occasional after work get-togethers. Frankly they thought him bordering odd but this didn't stop them from asking him to fill in for them whenever they were needed to put in some extra time themselves. Most of his coworkers didn't ask Gregory to back them up often only asking when it was truly necessary. But some did take advantage thinking of him as no more than a patsy, someone who had nothing better to do with their time, someone who could do the drudge work as they went on with their lives outside the office. Turner & Marks was the parent company of many well known household and business related trademarks. The company was well established as a Pan-American manufacturing company and provided products and services throughout the America's. Gregory had been with the company about seven years and held a position in the Technology Department. Specifically he was a writer of instruction or user manuals for the company's products. He was very proficient and over time had also been assigned the additional responsibility of writing manufacturing procedures which oversaw the development of the company's products and services. Gregory's superiors didn't think of him much, meaning they didn't have to think about him at all. He was reliable and they thought well of him, admired his dedication to his work but to them he was just another cog in the machine. Consistently his evaluations rated him a slightly above average employee who completed his work timely and reliably with little or no supervision needed. But he had no particular skills to set himself apart or any that would warrant any kind of promotion even into first line management. Gregory was alright with that, he had no ambition to be more than he was. Today was just another typical day for Gregory. He'd arrived at the office at his usual time, that morning at eight-fifteen and now it was ten to eleven at night. He wasn't filling in for anyone this evening just working on his own things and time had gotten away from him. Gregory finished the last few items he was working on before shutting down his computer. He slipped into his jacket and overcoat, picked up his briefcase and headed for the elevator. Waiting for the car to arrive his stomach growled and idly he thought about what he'd fix himself once he got home to his small three room apartment. Riding down in the elevator his mind turned back to the manual he was working on and just knew something was missing. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but he'd done enough of these manuals to know something important had been omitted by the Manufacturing Group. And he also knew whatever it was would come to him eventually. The doors of the elevator slid open and he walked towards the one revolving door still open at this hour. Passing the marbled security counter that sat just beyond the elevator nook he said, "Goodnight," to the two men and one woman on duty. One of the male guards and the female guard turned and stared at him as he walked by but neither responded. The second male guard nodded his head once in Gregory's direction but said nothing. Gregory was used to the coolness of the people who worked security. Who was he to warrant anything more than a 'goodnight' in return but he seldom got even that. Even the guards thought him odd. Stepping out into the night he walked towards the subway as he pulled his overcoat tighter around himself. The night air was cooler than he thought it would be and wished he'd brought his hat and gloves too. He didn't own a car and wouldn't have been able to afford parking downtown each day anyway, even in the employee lot. Occupying a prestigious spot in the Central Business District, International Headquarters for Turner & Marks sat downtown on Picard Square. Its towering structure was the centerpiece of three buildings which bordered the square. The other two buildings served as corporate headquarters for two firms not related in any way with Turner & Marks. Picard Square itself was a favorite spot among office workers of the three buildings to take their lunch or a break during the daytime. The multi-tiered square was a mix of classical Greek architecture with plenty of concrete stairs, columns, benches and areas set aside as green spaces. The stairways and other retaining walls for the gardens were decorated with bas relief sculptures reminiscent of the Parthenon and other Greek antiquities. There were also three ornate fountains on the site, one large central fountain and one smaller fountain on each front corner of the square near the street. There were trees and gardens galore throughout the almost nine acre site and plenty of places to sit and relax or have lunch either on a bench or under a tree. But at night the square could be a foreboding place with plenty of dark spaces and places for someone to hide. Gregory's thoughts were on his work as he walked down the twenty concrete steps to the second level of the square. He turned right and started towards the Water Street stairs that would take him not far from the subway entrance. Absorbed in thought he didn't really take note of the figure walking towards him until they were nearer to each other. When they were barely more than a hundred feet apart Gregory's attention finally went to the hooded figure. The way the figure walked Gregory assumed it to be a man. The man walked at a brisk pace with his head down, hands in the jacket's pockets and would pass to Gregory's left on the wide concrete pathway. Because of the figures very brisk pace Gregory thought the man walked with a purpose, someone with someplace to be so he wasn't too concerned. Just as they came abreast of each other the figure suddenly veered towards Gregory and shoved him off the path into one of the stairways and up against the stone wall. "Give it up mother fucker," the figure hissed. "What the...," Gregory started then noticed the hand gun thrust out at him. "Shut up asshole and give me your fucking money," the man tersely ordered. Fearful Gregory dropped his briefcase and reached for his wallet with shaking hands. The hooded figure grabbed the wallet Gregory held out then said, "Give me that watch too." Barely able to control his trembling fingers Gregory struggled but finally undid the clasp on the leather wristband of the fairly nice Bulova and handed it over. After snatching the watch from his hand the hooded figure stepped back and stood just staring at Gregory for several seconds. The light on the stairway was very poor and he couldn't see anything inside the man's hood, it was just a dark void. In fact the man's figure itself was barely more than a silhouette. Suddenly the man said, "Fuck this," and extended his hand with the gun. Instinctively Gregory threw his hands up in an effort to protect himself. He saw the flash of the muzzle, heard the sound of the gun......the sound of...no, not a gun...he heard the sound of... ...the sound of a baby crying? Gregory's eyes shot open and slowly focused on the unfamiliar recessed paneled ceiling above him. Frowning he rubbed sleep from his eyes and wondered where he was. Someone lying beside him rolled over, threw the blankets back and said, "You stay in bed honey, I'll take care of her this time." The nude redheaded woman with wild pillow hair slowly stood, pulled on a robe and padded out of the room. Incredulously he stared at the woman's back as she walked sleepily through the bedroom door. "Did I hook up with someone last night?" he asked himself then remembered the hooded figure. He threw back the covers and saw he too was naked but more importantly there were no gunshot wounds. That whole episode last night must have been a bad dream he thought. Relieved he pulled the covers back up to his chest again and lay still for a minute. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and two other fingers trying to remember what had happened the night before. "Who is this woman? Where did I meet her? How did I meet her?" he asked himself. Trying to think he laid his forearm across his eyes and tried to recall the previous evening, "I was headed home from the office last night then....then what?" he asked unable to remember anything. Looking around the room he saw several framed photographs hanging on the walls, others sitting on a table by the window and a couple on the mirrored dresser. From the bed he could see he was in several of the photographs, some with a redheaded woman. Confused he rolled out of bed and walked over and looked at one the photo's hanging on the wall. Shocked he stared at it for several seconds. It was a very nice picture obviously taken in a professional studio and in the lower right hand corner was the legend 'Molly & Greg March 2001'. March 2001! That was five years ago. "What's going on?" he asked himself not for the first time. He reached for the photograph but stopped when he saw the gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. With his other hand he touched the ring turning it around on his finger. It was no illusion, it was real alright. Slipping the ring off he held it between thumb and forefinger staring at it in disbelief. Seeing what appeared to be scratches on the inside he turned the ring in the light until he could see the scratches were actually an engraving. "Today, tomorrow, forever we travel life together. Love Molly," it said. He heard the woman coming down the hall outside the bedroom saying in a sing-song voice as she dragged out the twice repeated word, "Daddy, daddy, we're going to go see daddy." Then as she entered the bedroom she continued, "Where's daddy? Oops! There he is standing there naked, silly daddy." Daddy? Was he this baby's father? How could that be? The woman laid the baby in the center of the bed and then lay on her side beside the child. "Come lay back with us Greg, Megan wants to see her daddy." He stood unsure, hesitating for a moment when a feeling suddenly washed over him. It was a wonderful, warm, cozy feeling that enveloped him, a sense this whole thing was as it should be. He couldn't explain it but somehow to Greg it felt right. He sensed this was where he belonged, in this place, in this house, with this woman and with this baby. Slipping the ring back onto his finger as he walked over he got back into bed. Lying on his side facing the woman Greg looked down at the baby on the bed between them. He was no expert but it seemed to him the child was no more than a couple of months old. "Isn't she beautiful?" the woman asked. Greg stared in wonder at the baby. She was practically bald with just the barest whisper of what appeared to be blond hair and her eyes were the same sparkling green as the woman's. The fingers of her tiny hands were curled and she was trying to find her thumb but was only able to locate the first knuckle. She looked up at Greg kicked her feet and pumped her arms in the way that babies do, gave Greg a big smile then tried to locate that elusive thumb again. "Yes, yes she is beautiful," he agreed. "I'm glad you changed and fed her last night. I was really beat and didn't hear her crying until you woke me up when you got out of bed." Although he didn't remember doing any such thing he responded, "No problem." "Oh I think daddy did that because he likes spending time with and feeding his little girl," the woman said as she stroked the baby's belly. Baby Megan just cast her eyes towards the familiar voice of her mother as she noisily sucked her thumb's knuckle. As the woman cooed and aah'd at the baby Greg stole glances at her. Even without makeup he could see she was an attractive woman, perhaps no pageant winner but pretty nonetheless. After talking to the baby for a few minutes and making her giggle once or twice the woman said, "Keep an eye on Megan Greg while I go pee." The woman, the name Molly came to his mind, slipped out of bed and went through a door on her side of the room. He watched her until she closed the door behind herself then looked down at the baby again. Greg studied the child taking in her features, the shape of her nose, her eyes, her mouth and chin. He held the baby's free hand and traced each of her long fingers with his. Megan stared back at him, her bright eyes shining happily as he held her tiny hand in his when another sense of awe overtook him. He wasn't sure how or why but somehow he knew this was his child and tears welled up in eyes. He didn't know how this had happened, why he couldn't remember Molly or Megan but he wasn't going to question it either. Molly came out of the bathroom and removed her robe throwing it across the foot of the bed. Greg took in her body as she picked up a pair of shorts and a spaghetti strapped shirt from the chair next to the bed. She was relatively tall, maybe five foot seven or so and had a thin body with 36C breasts. Her belly and hips carried a bit of extra weight but to Greg it appeared to be from the pregnancy. Her bush was red attesting to her natural hair color and her legs were long and lean. After getting into the shorts and shirt Molly stepped into her slippers and scooped Megan up from the bed. "Time to make daddy some breakfast while he showers for work little one," she said to the baby as they left the room. When they were gone Greg got out of bed and walked around the room looking at the other photographs. A couple were obviously vacation photos of him and Molly snow skiing someplace in the mountains but he couldn't make out where. There were photos of the two of them jet skiing in what appeared to be some Mediterranean location. A picture of them standing outside the traffic circle around the Coliseum in Rome sat on top of the dresser. Another picture of them standing by one of the fountains at the base of Nelson's Column on Trafalgar Square in London sat on a table in front of the bedroom window. Also on that table were several pictures of them together on a cruise ship as well of one of them at the Eiffel Tower in Paris. There was a picture of them taken someplace on the street of Rio de Janeiro. He knew this because way off in the background he could see the statue of Christ the Redeemer atop Corcovado Mountain. The same statue was visible in the distance in another photo taken in Rio and was of Molly walking topless along the beach wearing only a teeny tiny bikini bottom. Hanging on the wall were a few pictures of the two of them taken in various restaurants. In three of these photos they were with a table full of people he didn't recognize but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. He took in the items sitting on top of his chest of drawers. He didn't recognize the Longines Chronograph watch lying there nor did he recognize the graduation ring from Yale. He did remember taking business courses at Prairie State College, but Yale! Huh! He picked up the Italian leather wallet and opened it. There were several credit cards, gold and platinum, a driver's license showing an address he didn't recognize but assumed it was this house's. There was another card behind the driver's license and he pulled it out. It was a company picture ID and Greg could hardly breathe as he stared at it. It was a Turner & Marks ID, one like he'd carried for the past seven years. But this one identified him as 'Gregory Hunt; Assistant Vice President, Manufacturing; US & Canada'. How could this be? I'm just a clerk, I write user manuals and procedures. What in God's name is going on? Slipping the ID back into the wallet he set it down then pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and saw underwear, socks and handkerchiefs neatly folded. He pushed it closed and opened the rest of the drawers and found more clothes. Stepping over to a wood door he slid it open. Inside were more clothes, suits mostly. He walked to the rear of the walk-in closet and back out again. There were at least fifty suits with probably half as many sets of dress shoes in individual cubby holes. In drawers were dress shirts of various colors, some new and unopened, some back from the cleaners still wrapped in plastic. There were drawers containing cuff links, shirt studs and men's jewelry of all sorts. Near the front of the closet was a rack that must have held a hundred ties, all neatly arranged. On the opposite side of the door was another rack holding twenty or so belts. While he had no memories of buying any of these things or even ever having seen them before there was an unmistakable feeling of familiarity about them. Greg stepped out of the closet and walked across the bedroom to the bathroom the woman had come from earlier. There was a vanity with two sinks in front of a large well-lit single piece mirror. On the vanity by the nearer of the two sinks sat a straight razor and a hot shaving cream dispenser as well as combs, brushes, a hair dryer, a toothbrush, a WaterPik and other men's toiletries. By the other sink sat similar items and feminine toiletries. Befuddled Greg brought his hand up and rubbed the side of his face. He just wasn't sure why so much had changed since yesterday, why couldn't he remember? But rubbing his face did make him realize he really did need to shave. Dubiously he stared at the straight razor lying on the counter. To his recollection he'd never used one before having always preferred an electric razor. Resigned there were no alternatives to the bare bladed razor he gave in and washed his face then applied hot shaving cream over his stubble. Warily he brought the razor up and began to scrape away his day old beard. Amazing himself he found he handled the razor deftly not nicking himself once. After brushing his teeth he showered then dressed in one of the suits from the closet. He looked at himself in the full length mirror that was the sliding doors of Molly's closet. "Not bad," he thought as he admired the fit, cut and quality of the suit. Leaving the bedroom he found himself standing in a hall that overlooked a large foyer below. Going down the stairway he stopped at each of the ten 11X14 photographs hanging on the wall. They were nothing special just more pictures of him and Molly. All were tasteful and well done but just standard studio shots. But what caught Greg's attention about them were the labels at the bottom right hand corner of each photo. Each carried the month and year the photo was taken. The first picture at the top of the stairs was the same one he'd seen on the wall in the bedroom with the March 2001 date. The last photo at the bottom of the staircase included baby Megan and had been taken just the month before. Between them the rest of the photo's had been taken at intervals of about two per year. In Greg's mind the pictures established he and Molly had indeed been together since at least 2001. Standing at the foot of the stairs he heard Molly talking to the baby off to his right. To his left was a room and through the door he could see a piano with other photographs sitting on top of it. Hand of Fate He went into the room and saw more pictures of him and the redheaded woman together apparently on vacation. There were photos of Molly alone, him alone, them together and the two of them with other people he assumed were friends. One photo he thought was of Molly and an older man. But on closer inspection he saw it wasn't Molly but an older woman with whom she bore a striking resemblance. Molly's mother perhaps? Scanning the forest of framed photographs on the piano his breath suddenly caught. From one of the photos his mother stared back at him and standing next to her was his father. This wasn't possible. First his dad had died when he was ten and his mom had never remarried. Secondly his mom had become something of a lush and a barfly after his father's death and the last time he saw her she showed the ravages of that lifestyle. But in the photo his mother looked fine, healthy and perky even. And his dad, his dad looked not as he remembered him but as he probably would have after an additional nineteen years of life. They looked to be a happy couple and Greg found himself on the verge of tears again. Suddenly something clicked in his mind and he tore out of the room. Running back up the staircase and into the bedroom he looked at the three group photos taken in some restaurant. He found the one he was looking for and studied the faces in it. He and Molly were seated together on one side at the head of the table. Across from them sat the two people he assumed were her parents in the photos downstairs and next to them sat his parents. His head was spinning and he had to back step and sit on the edge of the bed for a minute. He placed the heels of both hands against his forehead and rubbed while asking himself, "Am I going crazy? How is all this possible?" "Greg, your breakfast is on the table sweetie," Molly called up from the bottom of the stairs. Recovering somewhat he took a deep breath then responded, "Be right there." Going into the kitchen he saw a place set at a small table in a bay window just off the kitchen and sat just as Molly set her own breakfast on the table. He looked at his plate and saw everything he liked for breakfast fixed just the way he preferred. They ate in silence as Megan sat propped up in a baby carrier set on the table trying to find that elusive thumb again. Molly looked at Greg from time to time as they ate then finally asked, "Greg, what's the matter baby?" Greg looked at her not sure what to say but after a moment said, "Nothing. Why?" "You're so quiet this morning. You haven't even looked at your newspaper." Greg thought for a second then responded, "Just thinking I guess." "Work?" Molly asked. For now that was as good a reason as any Greg thought and nodded. "Well then maybe we can talk about it tonight when you get home," the woman he now knew and accepted as his wife said. "Yes, we'll talk tonight." Thinking about how things had changed since he woke up this morning he added, "I really think we should do that." He finished his coffee then looked at his watch and said, "I've got to get going; I think I'm going to be late." Greg got up from the table stood hesitantly for a second then stepped over and kissed Molly on the cheek. He looked down at Megan sitting on the table then kissed her on the forehead. As she picked up their dirty dishes and brought them to the sink Molly reminded him, "Your car keys are on the counter by the garage door. You dropped them there last night when you came in." Car keys? What car keys? I have a car? Greg was totally confused now. Looking around he spied a set of keys sitting on top the counter next to a door that presumably went to the garage. He walked over and looked down at them for a moment then gingerly picked the keys up as if he thought they may burn his fingers. Then noticing the way his wife was looking at him he said, "Thanks Molly, I guess I forgot I'd left them here." Going into the garage he saw there were two Lexus' parked there. One was a SUV and the other a SC430. Using the remote key on the keychain he was pleasantly surprised to find the convertible was his. Driving downtown he noted the parking sticker on the left side of his windshield just above the brake inspection sticker. The parking sticker had the number L2R4S12 written in ink on the rear and with the sun shining through the sticker he could see the same number in reverse showing through in large bold block letters and numerals. Although he couldn't ever remember having a car much less a parking spot he knew the number on the sticker meant his assigned parking was in lot 2, row 4, slot 12. He also knew lot 2 was the executive parking lot nearest Picard Square. After parking his Lexus rather then taking the company shuttle Greg walked the two blocks to the Turner & Marks office building and entered. Standing at the security counter were several guards watching the arriving employees. They were on the lookout for anyone in the crowd who was unfamiliar and whom they would prevent from accessing the upper floors without first determining they belonged there. Several of the newer employees were stopped and asked for their company ID before being allowed to proceed. As Greg passed the security counter one of the guards said pleasantly, "Good morning Mr. Hunt," and the greeting was quickly repeated by two other guards. "Good morning," he replied surprised at the greeting. In his seven years of employment with Turner & Marks he'd never been greeted, he was just one of the masses. But now his company ID said he was an AVP. Is that why the guards took time to acknowledge him? If that were the case he knew their greeting him now was just as insincere as their ignoring him had been sincere ambivalence when he was only a clerk. He realized in short they were sucking up by wishing him a 'good morning'. Waiting for the elevator several other employees including two of his co-workers and one of his supervisors from the Technology Department, well at least co-workers and supervisor from the life he remembered, greeted him as well. "Good morning Mr. Hunt." Inwardly smiling he realized he used to do the same thing whenever he saw one of the executives in the morning. "Good morning mister or mizz so and so," he'd say. His greetings were sincere but now realized how insincere they sounded. Maybe he'd been a bit harsh in his evaluation of the guard's motives. The man he knew as his supervisor added to his greeting, "We should have those P11 manuals for the Camrose plant start-up ready for your review by midday Mr. Hunt. We had a few problems with our fax machines yesterday and that caused the delay in getting them to you but that's all been straightened out now. We worked late last night getting caught up and just have a bit of binding to do. I'll personally deliver a finished copy to your office by lunch." Not knowing what else to say Greg said, "That'll be fine." But he KNEW what the man was taking about, how was that? Turner & Marks was bringing a new unit on line at their Camrose plant just outside Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The P11 manuals were critical for that start-up. Stepping onto the elevator people were calling out their floor numbers to the person standing nearest the control panel. Greg was tempted to say, "Seven please." Seven being the floor where he'd worked for most of his seven years in the Technology department. But before he could say anything the women at the panel said, "And twelve for Mr. Hunt." Twelve, the executive suite! By the time the car got to twelve Greg was the last person in the elevator. When the door slid open he stepped off and tentatively walked through the glass doors with the 'T&M' logo. "Good morning Mr. Hunt," said the receptionist seated behind her station just inside the double glass doors. From the sideboard behind her counter the woman picked up a four inch bundle held together with rubber bands and held it out saying, "Your mail sir." "Thank you," Greg said taking the offered bundle. But now he didn't know where to go, had no idea where his office was. Turning back to the receptionist he said, "Excuse me, I know this will sound odd but can you tell me where my office is?" "Why would that sound odd Mr. Hunt? Maintenance finished renovating your new office last night and moved your belongings back into it. It took them over a month to get it done so I can imagine you're not sure whether to go to your new or temporary office. It's down that hall to your right sir," the pretty black women said as she pointed. Smiling sheepishly Greg said, "Thank you Miss Robbins." The woman's name just came to him. How did he know it? "Your most welcome sir," she replied with a dazzling smile. He walked down the hall surreptitiously reading the name plaques next to each door until he saw, 'Gregory Hunt- A.V.P. Manufacturing; US & Canada'. "Good morning Mr. Hunt," said a voice from his left. Turning he saw an attractive brunette standing at the opening of her cubicle holding an appointment book in her hand. She said, "You have nothing on your schedule until one o'clock when you meet with the Gila Bend Plant Manager. They had a weather delay and her plane arrived late last night from Phoenix so she asked for a reschedule. I went ahead and moved the appointment back so you'd have time to get comfortable in your new digs. I've already unlocked the door and took a look. They did a beautiful job of renovating; I think you'll like it." Somehow everything the woman said sounded familiar. He did have an upcoming appointment with Helen Mitchell, Plant Manager of the Gila Bend plant, one of Turner & Marks' agricultural interests. He knew this woman's name too, Myra Sykes and she was his secretary. He even knew she was twenty-five years old and recently married. "Thank you Myra," he said. How did he know these things and not remember being more than just a writer of user manuals for the company? Opening the office door he stepped in and saw a not too big, not too small office with richly paneled walls and behind the desk a wall of windows covered by drapes. Myra walked to one corner near the rear of the office and opened the drapes. "Nice isn't it?" she asked. "Very," Greg replied. Standing behind the desk he saw a picture of Molly on the corner of the desk. On the opposite side was one of Megan. Myra stepped out of the office pulling the door closed behind her. Greg looked around the room and saw three diploma's from Yale hanging on the wall. Each carried his name and indicated he held Doctorate degrees in Business; one each for Accounting, Finance and Marketing. Doctorate's! There were pictures on the wall too. Most were of various company manufacturing plants. But one showed Greg wearing a hard hat along with a few other 'coat and tie' types. Each held a shovel and had a foot on the shoulder as if they were about to push the blade into the earth. A ground breaking? In another Greg was shaking the hand of an elderly looking gentleman whom he didn't recognize. They were holding each end of a scroll of some sort between them as they shook hands and faced the camera. There were two pictures that about knocked his socks off. In separate photographs he was standing next to and shaking the hand of the current and previous Presidents. Not company Presidents but Presidents of the United States. What circles did he move in? Greg sat behind his desk and began to think. How can some things I've seen and heard today seem so familiar and other things seem so alien? When in the world did I go to Yale? How did I get from the seventh floor to the executive suite? When did I meet Molly much less when did I marry her? So many questions so few answers. How? When? Why? Shaking his head he closed his eyes for a moment and... The persistent sound of the alarm clock intruded on Greg's sleep. Rolling over he pressed the button on top of the clock turning it off. Raising his arms he stretched his body then heard the pounding of little feet running down the hall outside his bedroom. Suddenly a tiny red haired girl burst through the bedroom door and leapt upon the bed giggling as she crawled up towards the headboard, crawling excitedly over Greg. "Daddy, daddy you're awake at last! Bet you can't guess whose birthday it is today daddy. Bet you can't." Greg blinked several times then knew who the little girl was but didn't understand. Yesterday Megan had been a baby just a few months old, but now she was somewhat older. Watching the little girl he saw in the background when Molly entered through the bedroom door seconds behind their daughter. "Can you guess daddy huh daddy can you guess whose birthday it is today?" the grinning, excited little girl asked. "Well I don't know for sure but I think it just might be yours." "Yippee! Daddy knew it was my birthday today mommy, he knew it was." The little girl crawled higher still and wrapped her arms tightly around her daddy's neck and kissed his face. "She's been so excited I almost couldn't keep her out of here this morning, she couldn't wait for the alarm to go off. She was a little bit disappointed she couldn't come in first thing and wake you but when I explained you had a late night and needed to sleep in Megan said she understood. You should have seen her; she was sitting at the table eating her cereal and thinking about what I'd said then announced she'd decided her daddy could sleep a little bit longer before she had to wake him up, but only a little bit longer. And when she heard the alarm go off...huh...she shot up here to see you," Molly explained. "That's ok baby you should have let Megan wake me. It's my little girl's birthday today and she's excited about it. But I bet she don't know how old she is today though." "I do too daddy, I'm five now," she said proudly holding her hand up with the fingers spread wide. "Five! Wow you're getting so big. How many fingers is that?" he asked pointing at her hand. "One...two......three......uh...four......five," Megan counted slowly touching each upheld digit with the index finger of her other hand. Smiling broadly he hugged his daughter and said, "Look at you counting. You're so smart too." "Yep, and I'm your big girl now huh daddy cause I'm five?" the mirror image of her mother asked. "You certainly are sweetheart," Greg said. "Can I be daddy's big girl too Megan?" asked Mom. "Silly mommy you can't be daddy's big girl. You're his wife already," giggled the redheaded child, assured her logic was correct and unquestionable. Their love for each other only superseded by their love for Megan the parents of the adorable redheaded five year old looked at each other and smiled. Molly said, "They're setting up her party in the back yard now. The first kids should be getting here about eleven so get yourself up and get dressed." Then after one last kiss mom and daughter left the room. Later during the birthday party Greg walked around the yard watching as the children played. They had a space walk, a merry-go-round, lawn games and garden relay races, face painting, bean bag tossing, musical chairs, Shetland ponies to ride and a small wagon pulled by other ponies, a petting zoo and a clown who made balloon animals and who also did magic tricks. Megan was having the time of her young life. She and her friends ran from this to that but the ponies seemed to be the favorite. Later while Molly and Greg stood together under a tree watching as Megan petted a marmoset with a sense of wonder and a huge smile on her face, Greg bent over to pick up something he'd dropped. When he stood the scene had changed and he and Molly were walking together along a path. Her arm was through his as they strolled and up ahead of them were two figures, a tall slender girl and a bit taller boy. Greg recognized the path they were on but it wasn't at the house, it was part of the zoo complex, a sort of botanical garden. "You know what this reminds me of?" asked Molly. "No," he replied. "You know that scene in The Godfather where Al Pacino is in Sicily and he and that girl he eventually marries are out walking?" "Yes." "Remember they were walking down the road and a little ways behind them came all the girl's relatives?" "Uh huh." "That's what we're doing. Megan walking with her friend up there and here we are chaperoning them. I know she's only twelve now and they're not getting married but this just reminded me of that scene." Greg was stunned. 'Twelve!' he thought. Looking at the young couple ahead of them he saw when the red haired girl turned and looked their way, smiling. His baby was twelve now, where had the years gone? "I'm so glad your promotion won't take us away from here. I was worried when they gave you the Vice President of sales and marketing job we'd have to go to New York or something." 'I'm a VP now?' Greg thought to himself surprised at the news, but somehow knew how to answer Molly's concerns. "No, the offices of all AVP's and above are at Picard Square." Molly was glad; she didn't want to uproot her family each time Greg got a promotion. She watched her daughter and the young man up ahead of them and smiled when the boy took Megan's hand. "Look at them Greg. Oh our baby is growing up." Greg watched his little girl, and that's exactly how he still saw Megan. He felt a curious mix of pride and protectiveness when the boy took her hand. Megan was tall for her age and very thin. Not anorexic or bulimic or anything like that, just thin. She was athletic too having played soccer and softball for several years now. She hadn't yet begun to develop but he could see she would be just like her mom, curves in all the right places. They followed the young couple through the garden until the path brought them to the small amusement area of the park. There were several rides to be enjoyed; a Ferris wheel and a small scale train that went around most of the perimeter of the park, bumper cars, hall of mirrors, a skydiver ride and a carousel more than a hundred years old. There was also a kiddy park with smaller, gentler rides for the smallest children but Megan was too big for those now. Megan and her friend were standing in line for the antique cars. These were models of Tin Lizzy's and Model A's pulled by an underground cable along a set track. The cars went through a small section of the wooded park, through a nineteen twenties style small town mock up and then through a long low building with a lovers lane theme. Greg and Molly were able to get the car right behind the young couple with Molly taking the seat behind the wheel, as she always did. Greg wanted to be able to keep a close eye on his daughter, wanted to make sure the boy didn't take advantage of the situation in the darkened building housing 'lovers lane'. As the cars moved along their appointed path Molly and Greg talked about an upcoming dinner party they were having when Molly asked just as their car entered lover's lane, "Do you remember our first ride through here Greg? We came here on our first date and almost as soon as we went inside you slid over, put your arm around me and held my hand. I thought you were going for a quick feel but you weren't. You were quite the gentleman." "I remember," Greg responded then slid over and did just as Molly had said he'd done all those years earlier. Thing was he did remember that time so many years ago. They sat quietly, Molly's head against Greg's shoulder watching the car ahead of them for a bit and were brought back to the moment when the kids' car burst through the exit door across the track letting the sunlight in, then suddenly it was dark again when the door closed again. Fifteen, twenty seconds behind the kids' car their car pushed the doors open into the bright midday sun. Greg held his hand up to shade his eyes then heard Molly saying tersely, "...and I know you're ok with this but I'm telling you I'm just not comfortable with the situation." Hand of Fate Greg looked at his wife not sure what she was talking about. Suddenly he realized they weren't in the antique cars at the park anymore but in his wife's car, a new convertible Mercedes-Benz. Greg squeezed his eyes closed for a second and when he opened them again they were still in the Mercedes on the city's streets. Molly looked at her husband then asked incredulously, "You've nothing to say? Your daughter's coming home from college and she's bringing her boyfriend and you've nothing to say about that?" College!? After a moment he replied, "What do you want me to say Molly? That she shouldn't bring her friend home? Megan's growing up and has a good head too. She graduated from high school Valedictorian and has an almost perfect GPA at Harvard. That's nothing to be sneezed at." How did he know all this? "That's book learning. What about common sense?" Greg smiled. He and Megan had spent a lot of time together as she was growing up and had always been close. In a lot of ways Megan was closer to her father than her mom. Greg knew his daughter had a lot of street smarts to go with the book smarts and wasn't concerned. Well he was concerned just not as much as Molly was. "I mean she told me she was bringing this boy home...," Molly went on clearly agitated. "Michael..." "What?" she snapped. "The young man's name is Michael." "I don't care what his name is Greg. Megan TOLD me she was bringing this boy...Michael home and then TOLD me they would be sharing her room together for the Holiday weekend. I mean if I'd told my mom that she'd have had me committed, after she'd grounded me for a decade. Are we going to let her do this...share her room with him?" Greg sat looking out the passenger window. He knew Molly was just venting her frustrations and let her go on. But she did ask a good question...should they let the two of them share a bedroom for the weekend? Megan was twenty-one now...an adult. But it was still her mom and his house. "I'll talk to her," he finally said when Molly had taken a breath. "I'll let her know we understand she and Michael have a relationship but this is our home and we set the rules. It'll be ok." "Well I certainly hope so. Can you imagine our parent's reaction when they visit this weekend? Oh I'd never hear the end of it. 'YOU LET your daughter share her BEDROOM with some BOY she'd NOT married to?' Oh yeah that would be real fun wouldn't it?" Greg smiled, amused at Molly's over reaction to the situation. He knew Megan would bow to his wishes. Molly carried on about the upcoming weekend visit for the rest of the day and into the evening ending only when she'd fallen asleep that night. At daybreak Greg was awakened by someone making noise in his bedroom. Opening an eye he saw Molly moving about dressed only in a half slip and bra. She was opening and closing drawers looking for something and was purposefully making more noise than was called for. He watched her for a bit and every so often she'd look to the bed to see if he was awake. Finally he opened both eyes and watched her as she moved about the room like a dervish. Molly looked his way again after loudly pushing her bedside table drawer closed. "About time you woke up. How can you sleep so late today of all days," she said to her husband. "What's the rush? I told you I'd talk to Megan." "What's the rush!? Your daughter is getting married in five hours and you ask 'what's the rush'? Sometimes I just don't get you. You take everything so calmly. Look at me I'm a wreck." Greg thought for a moment and realized what his wife said was true. Somehow he'd forgotten Megan was marrying Michael Patterson today. Why did he think today was the day Megan was bringing her boyfriend home from school? That happened what...two years ago? And just as he predicted Megan had given in to her father; Michael had slept in the guest room that weekend. In fact it was Michael who pointed out to Megan her dad was right; they should obey her parents' rules in their house. Amused at the recollection Greg smiled to himself as he remembered Michael had remained in the guest room all night...alone. He knew this because Molly had laid awake almost the entire night listening for any sound of movement in the house, just making sure Michael stayed in the guest room and Megan stayed in her bedroom. Greg liked Michael almost from the moment they met; he could see what Megan saw in the young man. It took a bit longer for Molly to warm up to him but she eventually came around too. The limo taking Molly and Greg to the church arrived at their home promptly at 9:30 a.m. When the car arrived at the Cathedral the maid of honor and best man were waiting at curbside and escorted the bride's parents inside to their seats. Later the maid of honor returned and escorted Greg to the rear of the church when it was time for the ceremony to begin. Despite Molly's never ending concerns the ceremony was beautiful and went off without a hitch. The bride was stunning in her white lace Vera Wang dress, the groom handsome in his Gianni Manzoni tuxedo. The bridesmaids all wore scarlet Barijay gowns and the groomsmen wore Ecko tux's. Even Michael's young six year old cousin serving as ring bearer did as he was supposed to, although after delivering the rings he turned to the congregation and took a bow to most everyone's delight. Among the women there were few dry eyes in the church that day and while some men shed tears as well Greg turned out to be one of the more notable criers, male or female. He was so filled with pride and happiness as he walked his daughter down the aisle he thought he would burst. But when he placed his baby's hand in Michael's at the altar that's when his first tears came. He didn't stop crying until after the ceremony was over but he felt no shame. He only felt and shared the joy of his only child's happiness on her special day. After the ceremony Molly and Greg got back into the limo for the ride to the reception hall. But when Greg stepped out, it wasn't the limo he'd gotten out of. It was a cab and they were at the hospital. Molly slid out after him and seeing Greg just standing there said a bit snippily, "Pay the man Greg. Michael said the baby's ready to come soon. Hurry up!" Greg paid the cab driver and walked quickly to catch up with his wife. Waiting for the elevator she told him, "Honestly Greg you'd think being Executive Vice President and CFO of a huge company like Turner & Marks you'd be a bit less drifty. Sometimes it's like you don't even know what's happening around you." Greg said nothing knowing this was the way his wife coped with stress. She often struck out verbally when stressed but also knew she'd eventually calm down and most likely apologize for anything hurtful she'd said. They went into Megan's private room where she'd give birth to her first child. Megan lay in bed and looked tired, her sweat dampened red hair hung down with some plastered to her forehead. It was obvious Megan was uncomfortable, the contractions coming quickly now. She was brave about it and tried to talk with everyone but it was becoming more difficult for her to concentrate. After about twenty minutes the OB/GYN chased everyone out except Molly and Michael's mom because the baby was ready to make its debut. Greg, Michael, Michael's dad George and Michael's sister Lee sat in the waiting room. Michael had opted not to be present in the birth room because he had a thing about seeing blood, anyone's blood. If he saw even a single drop he'd get woozy and if he saw any more than that, well he'd simply pass out. He wanted badly to be in the birth room when his child was born but knowing his weakness he didn't want to take anyone's attention away from Megan and their child so he sat in the waiting room too. Three or four minutes after they sat Greg's mom and dad arrived. "Isn't this wonderful, our first great grandchild," Greg's mom said as she hugged her son and kissed his cheek. When his mom let him go his dad took her place and hugged him as well. A few minutes later after they'd sat his dad said, "Seems the older you get the more we have in common. Now my son will be a grandfather too." After a minute or two's hesitation he leaned towards Greg and said confidentially, "Unlike his old man you were a great father Greg and you'll be a great grandpa too." Greg stared at his father for a minute then said, "Thanks dad, but that's not true, you were a good dad. Don't ever let anyone tell you different." While Greg and his father had not been especially close, like him and Megan was they'd still had a reasonably good relationship. While they had spent some time doing things together like fishing or model building, his father never came to one of his ball games or went to the science fair at the school to see the project he'd worked so hard on, nor had he ever just sat and talked with Greg. Yes, they'd had a fairly good relationship but it could have been a lot better. Nonetheless Greg was somewhat surprised at the open display of emotion from a man who normally held himself rigidly in check. Peter Hunt smiled, patted his sons hand then sat back. "Molly's in the delivery room?" he asked a bit later. Greg nodded and added, "Along with Michael's mom." Greg's mom asked, "Michael, did you and Megan ever find out the sex of the baby?" Michael shook his head and responded, "No, but I think we might find out today though." Megan and Michael had not found out beforehand about their baby's sex wanting to be surprised, although Molly and both of Michael's parents had tried their best to convince them otherwise. Greg didn't care what the sex was as long as the baby was healthy. Sue, Michael's mom appeared in the doorway of the waiting room a half hour later crying so hard she couldn't speak. No one knew what to expect; did something happen with the baby, with Megan? Greg stood but couldn't move. He was frightened and frozen in place because of the look on Sue's face. "Megan," he said to himself, his thoughts with his only child. At the same time Greg stood Michael leapt from his seat and rushed over to his mom. He placed his hands on the sides of her shoulders, stooped down a bit to look into her face and asked urgently, "Mom, mom what is it? What's happened?" Sue's mouth opened and closed a couple of times but she still couldn't speak. She took a deep breath, sniffled a few times and after blowing her nose was finally able to get out between sobs, "Everything's fine. We have a beautiful baby granddaughter." Greg felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had to sit back down for a second because until that sigh he hadn't taken a breath since Sue had entered the waiting room. With the tension broken congratulations, hugs and smiles went around between all those in the waiting room, including some from family members of other women in the hospital waiting to have their babies. After the initial burst of emotion ended the Patterson's and Hunt's started towards Megan's room to meet their new granddaughter. Allowing the others to go before him Greg walked through the door of his daughter's room last and saw her holding the swaddled bundle cradled in her arms and felt tears filling his eyes again. Megan looked up from the baby and saw her dad standing there crying. "Daddy," she said, "Come meet and hold your granddaughter, Margaret Theresa Patterson." Greg took the offered bundle and couldn't help himself. Sniffling and crying like a baby himself he held the precious bundle and studied the baby's face. Her bright brown eyes seemed to be staring back at him then she smiled. On some level he knew the baby wasn't necessarily reacting to him but he chose to believe she was. Molly stood at his shoulder and he handed baby Margaret to her grandmother. He went to his daughter's bedside bent over and hugged her best as he could then kissed her on the forehead. "She's beautiful Megan. Next to you she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Father and daughter held each other and cried holding onto each other for nearly two minutes. Still leaning over his daughter he moved some of the sweat dampened hair from her forehead, moving it from where it hung in front of her face. Greg stood and shook Michael's hand then pulled the younger man to him. Greg hugged his son and said, "Congratulations son. You have a beautiful healthy baby girl." "Thanks dad," he replied meaning it sincerely. Michael was thankful he had such a good relationship with hiss. For the three years he and Megan had been married Greg in particular had been more a father to him than his own had been. He was aware of how close his wife and her father were and knew how emotional and passionate Greg was about his daughter. Inspired by his father-in-law he hoped to have the same relationship with his child too and would work hard to do just that. Later as they rode down in the elevator Molly passed her arm through Greg's and laid her head against his shoulder. Neither said anything, lost in their own thoughts about their new grandchild. When the elevator door slid open Molly and Greg stepped out into a large ballroom. The room was filled with more than three hundred people most of whom they'd known for years, but every person was older than he remembered. Everyone was on their feet applauding Greg and Molly's arrival as a young attractive couple approached them. The girl was about seventeen and the boy looked to be around the same age but was actually eighteen months older. "Grandma, grandpa we're here to escort you to your seats," said the young man as he offered Molly his arm and the young lady took Greg's. Although he'd been surprised when they entered the ballroom somehow Greg knew before the young man had spoken these were also his grandchildren. They were Michele and Michael Jr., Margaret's siblings. God he was seventy-nine years old now and retired for many years. He and Molly had traveled quite a bit after he retired but in recent years they had settled down to a routine home life. Golf was his passion but he'd also taken up a hobby, model trains of all things. He had a huge HO scale layout in a room he'd had specially built for that purpose. Molly kept busy too with her community and civic volunteer work and even helped with building some of the structures on the layout. All in all they'd had a good marriage and a wonderful life together. When they were seated Greg saw a banner stretched across the dance floor of the ballroom. It said, 'Happy Fiftieth Anniversary Greg and Molly'. He reached to his left and took Molly's hand and affectionately squeezed it. Everything worked out just as Megan had planned. Her parents really had been surprised by this anniversary party. She'd invited them on the pretense it was an award banquet for Michael in recognition for his service to local and state government bodies. The ballroom was beautifully decorated, the caterer she'd used so many times in the past provided a fantastic meal and the band, well the band was just terrific. Everyone seemed to be having such a wonderful time so between dinner and dessert Megan decided now was the time. She tapped the side of her champagne glass with her butter knife while holding the wireless microphone the hotel provided near to it. As the din of the room quieted she brought the microphone up and said, "Ladies and gentlemen I'd like to thank you for coming this evening. Tonight marks another milestone in the life of my parents and I'm so pleased you found the time to join us in this celebration. What can I say about my mom and dad you don't already know? I'm not sure how much of this will be novel to those of you who really know my parents well, but I'd like to try to tell you something you may not know about them anyway. My mother...my mother has always been the very definition of the word mother, but to me she has always been more than that too. To me she has always been Mom. I like the word Mom better then mother because at least to me it carries much more warmth, meaning and feeling than the label mother. She loved me, cared for me, nurtured and supported me. Mom taught me how to be a lady but gave me the freedom to experience life as it came. She allowed me to make mistakes and taught me to learn from them. She taught me right from wrong, truth from lie. Mom encouraged me to be more then the sum of my parts, to aspire to be more than that. It's because of mom I'm a doctor today. She taught me the importance of asking why when I didn't or couldn't understand and that being curious wasn't being nosy. She's instilled in me an awareness of my civil responsibility, taught me social grace and my sense of duty to God, country, community and to family. But the greatest thing mom gave me was life. And during this life she's taught me the importance of living life to its fullest as well as the importance of having a family. She taught me how important it was to have a family not just in name but in substance and making sure to find time to commit to that family over self interest or career." Turning to face the guests of honor she raised her glass in a toast and said, "Thank you mom." Molly's eyes were tear-filled as she acknowledged her daughter's toast. One hand was clenched over her breasts and the fingertips of her other covered her lips. Taking her hand from her mouth she mouthed, "Your very welcome baby." After toasting her mom and the applause died down Megan went on. "My dad. I know this is probably a cliché but no one has ever had a better dad then I do. Every day since I can remember until I thought I was too old for that sort of thing we read the funny papers together. I've got to admit I was wrong about being too old Dad, I wish I could still sit on your lap and we read the funnies together. My dad played an equal part in teaching the same things mom did but he did more than that too. Dad taught me to ride a bike, how to whistle and how to swim when I was five. He taught me to fish at six and how to ride a pony that same year. He taught me to water ski when I was seven and snow ski at eight. Dad taught me how to drive a boat at ten and a car at fifteen. He taught me to play chess at nine, golf at twelve and poker at fourteen. He took the time to explain and show me how the lessons of those games were applicable to life, how you could learn about people and how to deal with difficult situations through understanding the intricacies of these games. Dad taught me right from wrong, truth from lie but also taught me to be aware of the light and dark in people. If mom taught me it was ok to be curious dad stoked that curiosity. We talked about so much; life, love, philosophy, religion, country, duty, family, gardening, business, fishing...you name it we talked about it. Like I said I'm a doctor today because of my mom's influence but I'm a surgeon because of my dad's. I could have chosen a less demanding practice than surgery but dad made me see myself in a different way, made me challenge myself, made me see what it was I could do with my talents to help people the most. I remember when dad walked me down the aisle on my wedding day twenty-seven years ago. I could sense the pride and happiness he felt and the big baby was crying more than I was. Two months ago Dad stepped in when my husband Michael, still in a cast with a broken hip and leg wouldn't be able to escort his daughter at her wedding. I saw the same pride, happiness and tears as he walked Margaret down the aisle that day that I had twenty-seven years before. My dad...big, tough captain of industry who rose to CEO and Chairman of the Board at Turner & Marks and held that position for more than a decade before retiring crying like a baby at his granddaughter's wedding. Over the years he may have fooled a lot of people about how tough he was but he could never fool me or mom. He's always been a big softie and we love him for it." Hand of Fate Megan toasted her dad, "Thank you dad for making me the woman I am today." Just as she described him Greg's eyes were tear-filled as he held his own glass aloft acknowledging his only child's kind words. "My mom and dad have had a long and satisfying life together filled with success, happiness, travel, rewards, friends and family. Like any couple they disagreed once in a while but I don't remember a time when they ever went to bed angry at each other. Somehow they always found a way to make peace first. The advice they gave me was always sound and trusted even though as a 'rebellious teen' I couldn't show them that. Just kidding folks...the truth is unlike a lot of my peers at the time I never had reason or cause to rebel against my parents. They were the kindest, gentlest, and most caring and giving parents any person could ever have had and I thank God I was lucky enough to have had them as my parents. You'd really need to hear it from my children to be sure but I think they've also been the best of grandparents too. Michael and I welcomed and appreciated their help, advice and guidance in helping teach and mold Margaret, Michele and Michael junior's young minds. We valued their encouragement, support and the different perspective they brought whenever the children talked about how they wanted to pursue their lives. And I'm very glad they taught my children a lot of the things they taught me so well." Megan had to wipe tears from her eyes too before going on. "Well I guess there's nothing else to really say, most of you folks know my parents almost as well as I do. So please raise your glasses as we toast and honor my mom and dad, Molly and Greg Hunt on the occasion of their fiftieth wedding anniversary." The room filled with the sounds of well wishers. Corks flew from champagne bottles, glasses clinked and camera flashes went off. A round of applause broke out once again as the honored couple stood to acknowledge their guests. Several photographers knelt down across the table in front of them. Greg saw the bursts of light from the camera's flashes and heard the sound of corks popping...heard the sound of... ...saw the flash of the muzzle and heard the sound of the gun's report then felt as the lead bullet slammed into his chest throwing him back against the retaining wall of the garden above. The bullet entered his body and tore through his aorta coming to rest lodged against his spine. Blood gushed from the wound as his legs folded and he fell to the ground on the concrete steps of Picard Square totally unaware, unable to feel the cold and dampness of the concrete he lay on. His head rolled to the left and he saw the fleeing figure of his hooded assailant fading quickly into the distance. This was the last thing twenty-nine year old Gregory Hunt saw as the darkness of the night closed in on him.