15 comments/  25103 views/  4 favorites

Replacement Therapy Ch. 01

By: coaster2



Chapter 1: All Our Past Times

There was no "Bernie." It was just a made-up name from long ago, and no one remembered its origin. "Backstreet Bernie's," however, was a sacred watering hole for me and a number of the locals. Nick Kleinhof was bartender during most afternoons and evenings. He was also the owner, and as you soon discovered, no one ... I mean no one ... messed with Nick. 

He was built like a brick shithouse as the saying goes, and more than once I'd watched him bounce some drunken clown out of his place without breaking a sweat. It was one of those life's-lessons that stuck with you. It was also one of the reasons that I liked Bernie's as a place to hang out. Nick was my kind of guy, not to mention the possessor of the universal bartender talent of being a good listener.

I was sitting in my customary place at the bar, drinking my customary dark ale. We'd long ago agreed neither of us would bring up the subject of my divorce and the distancing of my two sons. It was still raw after two years, and I wondered if I'd ever get over it. I'd gotten over my ex-wife, Georgia, quite quickly. But missing the boys was another matter entirely. 

Terry and Matt were eleven and nine respectively, and I wondered how often they thought of me. We had been surreptitiously in contact by e-mail, but there was little else in the way of communication. Phone calls were met with excuses that the boys were in bed, or out playing with friends, or some other reason they couldn't come to the phone.

My ex-wife and her new husband had promptly moved two thousand miles east to Chicago as soon as the divorce was final. With me left in Yuba City, my financial state wouldn't permit me to visit the boys very often, and Georgia made sure that any attempt to do so would be thwarted by a variety of inconveniences. It was her transparent attempt to isolate me from them. That and the idiotic cascade of gifts that her new husband, Leonard Saunders, plied the two young guys with to keep them from missing me. As if it was all about toys. 

Despite all that, I still heard from them telling me about their new lives and the wonderful house and goodies that Leonard had provided. Georgia made no bones about the fact that she had "traded up." She had generously left me the house, complete with mortgage, along with what little savings we had. She made it clear there was nothing from her "old life" that she wanted other than the boys.

She had met Leonard at some work function, and his seduction had begun almost immediately. I was blindsided by her unexpected announcement that she was leaving me and taking the boys with her. I was also reminded that the lawyers handling the divorce would see me in the poorhouse if I was stupid enough to contest it. God bless our courts and family law systems.

Georgia was an attractive woman who spent quite a bit of time each morning making sure she was just that. She had gained some pounds with the birth of our boys, but nothing most women would worry about. She was not gorgeous, but had always been attractive. She looked her thirty-five years, but no more. 

Leonard was a slick, graying, predator, seven or eight years older than my ex-wife. Twice divorced I'm told, but a clever enough businessman to amass a substantial nest egg, and had the skills to add to it. I never did quite figure out why they had to move away, but that's what happened almost immediately when they were free of me.

The whole thing had come about so suddenly, that it took a while to comprehend what had happened. I had no clue that she was cheating on me, but obviously she had been ... and for some time it would seem. I was the clueless husband, easy meat for a guy like Saunders. I wondered if this had been his first conquest of a married woman. I also wondered if Georgia knew what she might be letting herself in for. Once a cheat, always a cheat, as my friend Johnny Gordon would say; after the fact of course.

So ... back to Nick. I was discussing the various people problems I was having at the office. I was both office manager and de facto computer geek at Big Valley Box, a mid-size corrugated container manufacturer supplying cartons mainly to the central valley fruit and vegetable packing houses. It was a successful company, and I had worked my way up in the organization to office manager, despite the fact that I was neither an accountant nor a business administration graduate. I was pretty proud of my accomplishment, but apparently Georgia thought it was no big deal.

My problems lay within the staff, and particularly the female staff. There was some hostility between a couple of the women, and I suspect it related to their choice of men; both of them wanting the same one. My problem was made worse by the fact that both of the women were valuable employees, good at their jobs. I was trying to figure out how to separate them from each other, yet still have them both working in my department. 

Nick, the consummate listener, had been paying attention while he wiped down some glasses fresh out of the washer. I had learned to give him time and not try to rush a comment from him. Quick answers weren't his forte. At last, he stopped and turned to me.

"Why don't you sit down with them, both together at the same time, and see if they will spit out what it's going to take to make them happy. You might not like the answer, but at least it might tell you what your chances are of a reasonable solution."

Typical Nick. Go right to the problem and hit it head-on. I thought about it, and after a few moments, I nodded.

"I can't think of a single reason why I shouldn't try that approach, Nick. As always, you boiled it down to the essentials."

We chatted some more as I nursed my ale, Nick being called away to serve the waitress. As I looked down the bar, I saw a woman sitting on a stool several places down from me. I didn't recognize her as one of Nick's regulars, but then I wasn't here every day, all day. What I did notice was that she seemed out of place at the bar. If she'd been in one of the booths, or at a table, she wouldn't have attracted my attention, but she was sitting at the bar.

When Nick returned, I scrunched up my face into a question mark and nodded toward the woman.

Nick leaned over the bar and said quietly, "Her last name is Michaels, but I can't remember her first name. It's an unusual one. She comes in once in a while. Just has a glass of wine and doesn't want company, but she will talk to me. She's a war widow. Her husband got killed by one of those roadside bombs. She's got a couple of young kids and she's trying to make a living sewing dresses, or something like that. I guess those army benefits don't help that much."

"So I've heard. That's tough ... a couple of kids too. That's tough."

I looked down the bar at the woman. She was absorbed in studying the wine glass in front of her. She didn't look like she was learning very much.

My visits to Backstreet Bernie's were confined to occasional after-work weekdays, and Saturday afternoons. I limited my intake to one pint, although I might have a second one on Saturday. I would arrive after work for an hour or so, and Saturday mid-afternoon for a couple of hours. It wasn't always that way. When Georgia first announced her departure, I was here almost every day, and the inevitable over-consumption of alcohol caused Nick to intervene. But Nick never did anything in a conventional manner.

At first he wanted to hear my story. It wasn't unique, apparently. He'd heard it, or something very much like it, many times before. While I was pouring out my guts in despair, he was listening and nodding and sympathizing ... up to a point. I think the popular word of the day is epiphany. I had an epiphany and didn't even know it. It occurred when Nick asked me a simple question.

"So, now that she's gone, along with the boys, what are you going to do about it?"

Hell of a question, that. I buried my head in my hands and started to list the possibilities.

"Well, I could hunt the bastard down and kill him. Or, I could kidnap my boys and take off for Mexico. Or ... or ... fucked if I know," I admitted.

"Of the two options you mentioned, which do you like the best?"

"Oh, kill the bastard ... for sure."

"Yeah. I can see that. Of course, there is a down side. You know ... running from the cops, getting arrested, tried, and convicted, life in prison ... you know ... that sort of thing."

I looked at Nick whose stone face remained unconcerned. It dawned on me then. There wasn't a fucking thing I could do. I didn't have the money to launch a legal campaign against them. I didn't like the idea of spending the rest of my life in prison, and I hated Mexico. The fact was, there really wasn't a thing I could do ... at least for now.

"Things have a way of changing over time," Nick said. "Your boys aren't going to be little forever. You're in touch with them, you tell me. That's a big something. It's a start. They'll probably want to hear about all the positive things you're going to do in the future. They won't want to hear about your misery. It ain't any fun for a kid."

I couldn't argue the logic, mostly because I didn't have a better idea.

"So, I should make like everything is just hunky dory? Life is great ... sorry I can't be there to share it with them?"

He looked at me with a sour shake of his head. "You know what I mean. Keep it simple. Little things. Tell them you miss them, but tell them you're making out okay."

I wasn't sure this was much of a strategy, but Nick was pretty good at distilling situations down to the basics. I'd be better off following his advice than trying to concoct some harebrained scheme to win my boys back. Besides, I'd sold the house and was now living in a two bedroom condo-apartment. The second bedroom was really an office and storage room. Where would they stay even if they could come here?

The only good news about getting the house away from Georgia was that the market had risen dramatically over the past six years that we had owned it. I'd never wanted to buy the thing in the first place. It was pretentious and bigger than we needed, even with two active children. But Georgia insisted, and since our combined incomes would support the mortgage, I reluctantly agreed to take the plunge. 

Now, I was going to be the beneficiary of that market. It looked like I could make at least a hundred thousand dollars clear after the sale, and retiring the mortgage. It was one of those tiny little bright spots in an otherwise dark period in my life. The condo was a foreclosure and needed a lot of work inside to repair the damage from the previous drug-addled owners. I had the skills, and I could do the work. The down payment and fixing it took a large chunk of my savings, but it would be worth it. I could re-mortgage for a considerable sum if I really needed cash.

Oh ... I took Nick's advice and sat the two women down, and in as blunt a fashion as I could manage, asked them what the hell it would take to get them to co-exist in a civilized fashion. They looked at me, then looked at each other, then burst out laughing. What the hell?

"Okay, you two. What's going on?"

"We were arguing over which one of us was going to date you first," Marilyn said, still giggling.

Now that, I didn't expect. "Are you serious? You cause me no end of grief and it's about which of you gets to date me?"

They looked pretty sheepish when I put it that way. "Yeah," Sandra answered.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to date either of you?" I asked, almost raising my voice.

They looked at each other in shock. Apparently it hadn't. Sandra was the only one to respond. "But ... we thought ... you know ... I mean ... with being alone and all ... maybe ...." They both seemed completely surprised that I might not consider them date material.

"Look, ladies. I'm your boss. It's against company policy for me to fraternize with employees ... especially if they are in my department. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but there isn't going to be any dates with me. Understood?"

They nodded, looking crestfallen.

"I'm flattered, though. It's good for a guy's ego that two very attractive women think I'm worth the effort. It's just a shame it can't happen," I said, hoping I hadn't badly bruised them.

They smiled in return and I was fairly certain I had resolved my most pressing personnel problems. 

I wasn't lying, either. It was good for my heavily damaged ego to have women arguing with each other on who would get the chance to go out with me. 

The next time I saw Nick I relayed the story and we both had a good laugh over it. 

It was a couple of weeks later when I was sitting in my usual place at the bar, paying slight attention to a baseball game on the TV when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I turned and saw a woman standing beside me, and it was apparent that she wanted to talk to me. She looked familiar, and it took me a moment to realize it was the war widow who came into Bernie's now and then.

"Yes, ma'am?" I smiled.

"Uhhm, I'm sorry to bother you, but ... Nick tells me you know something about computers," she said shyly.

"Well ... yes ... to some extent I do."

"He said you might be able to help me. I have a problem with my computer, and I can't afford to lose it for a week or so while it's getting fixed. Also, I'm on a really tight budget, so I can't spend a lot to get it fixed. I was wondering ... that is ... if it wasn't too much trouble ... if you could have a look at it."

I looked at her carefully. No make up, but a clean, lightly freckled face, clear blue eyes, pert little nose, strong chin. I'd seen her body in profile previously. Very feminine, but not outrageous. Probably five foot six inches or so. Dark brown hair, cut short. Altogether, very nice.

"Well, what seems to be the problem?" I had to start somewhere.

"It won't boot up. It just sits there and I can hear the hard drive grinding away, but nothing happens. I really need my computer to run my business. All my records and customer lists are on it."

"Okay. I can't promise anything, but why don't I have a look-see. Maybe it's something simple. Let's hope so, anyway."

She breathed a big sigh of relief. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. I'll give you my card. It has my address and phone number. When do you think you could look at it?"

I glanced at my almost empty glass and turned back to her. "Now's as good a time as any. How about I meet you at your home in twenty minutes?"

"Oh ... wonderful. Thank you so much." She walked down the bar and thanked Nick for recommending me. I wasn't so sure. I was just hoping I had enough know-how to help her. The last thing she needed to hear was that her computer was dead and had to be replaced.

She left in a hurry to get home, while I finished my beer. Nick cruised down the bar to me.

"I told her you could be trusted and wouldn't do anything to upset her. Am I right?"

I looked at him, shaking my head. "You have doubts, Nick? Shame!" I grinned. "She's as safe as she can be. I'm harmless. She has enough trouble without me giving her more."

Nick nodded and smiled. But I knew I would hear from him in a big way if I tried anything that Mrs. Michaels didn't approve of.

I arrived at the little bungalow about ten minutes after she had gotten home. I knocked and I could hear little kids hollering that someone was at the door. It wasn't until she opened it that I could see two cute little kids, a girl and a boy, standing beside their mother, wondering who I was.

"Come in, please," she said. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name. I'm Yolanda Michaels. These are my children, Deanna and Kirk."

"I'm Aaron Prentice. Nice to meet you all." It was an awkward moment as we all stood in the entranceway. 

"Are you going to fix my mom's computer?" the little boy asked.

"I hope so. I'll try," I answered, smiling down at him. Both of the children were neatly dressed and clean. I shouldn't have been surprised. It mirrored their mother. "You can watch, if you want," I suggested, wondering how smart that suggestion was. At that moment, I was thinking of my own boys and how much I missed them.

"Just make sure you don't bother Mr. Prentice, children," she cautioned.

She led me to her little corner of the dining room where the PC was located. It was a pretty simple setup, with an aging cathode ray tube monitor and a cheap inkjet printer. I looked at the front of the tower, and it was an early Pentium.

"Have you had this unit a long time?" I asked carefully.

"No, only about a year. I bought it used. I couldn't afford a new one."

I nodded my understanding. I began the process of unplugging and disconnecting the cables from the tower. I spread some newspapers on the dining room table, then placed the tower and the monitor on them. I plugged cables in once more, turned on the power, and waited. And waited. And waited. 

I could hear the hard drive turning, but there was no activity on the screen. I shut the unit down and pulled out my mini-tool kit. A half hour later, I was pretty sure the motherboard was pooched. I brought my laptop in from the car and linked it to the monitor just to be sure. The monitor was still working, but the image was pretty poor. I wouldn't want to be working at this station for any length of time.

It was time to give the lady the bad news. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Michaels, but I'm afraid your motherboard has a major problem. It won't be fixable. Since that's the guts of the machine, I'd say it has passed its useful life."

I could see her face fall in resignation. It was the last thing she needed to hear. I felt like hell, and I began to try and think of ways to make this problem go away. Then, like the light bulb going on over the cartoon character's head, I suddenly knew I had a solution. At least, a temporary solution. 

"Maybe there is something I can do to help," I said quickly, trying to stave off tears and despair in this poor woman. "I have a laptop at home that isn't being used. I can transfer your data from your hard drive to the laptop, and you'll be back in business. You can use it for as long as you need to. I've replaced it with a newer version, and I just use it for emergencies. I can always borrow one from the office if I need one. This way, you won't be out of business. Will that work for you?"

"I can't pay you for that. I wish I could, but I just don't have any funds right now. All my money is tied up in fabrics for my home business."

"You won't owe me a thing, Mrs. Michaels. It's a loan ... no charge. I'm just glad I could help." I looked at her and could see the relief on her face. "I'm going to go home and get the laptop now and come back. It will take me a while to download your hard drive onto my unit, but by later this evening, you should be back in business."

"Oh, thank you Mr. Prentice. You're a life saver. I was so worried I couldn't run my business without the computer. That would have been devastating."

"Yeah. I'm sure it would have been. However, you should be backing up your files to disk each night. Are you doing that?"

"No ... I'm not. I didn't know I should, or how to do it. Can you show me?"

"Sure. We'll get that done tonight too. I'll only be a few minutes getting my laptop and be right back."

I headed out the door and quickly drove to my condo. I'm not sure why I felt this "rescue" was so urgent, but I did. I grabbed the now outdated ThinkPad unit and a box of CD RW disks. I was sure she wouldn't have any. Less than twenty minutes later I was knocking on her door once more. She answered and ushered me in. She had just finished putting the children to bed.

It took a while to download the hard drive into a partition that allowed me to leave my programs on the unit. Her needs were simple and took up very little space in today's terms. When I turned on the unit and watched the screen light up, I could see what a huge improvement in the visual quality the laptop offered. Mrs. Michaels could see it too.


Replacement Therapy Ch. 01



"Oh ... wow. Look at that! It's so bright and clear. This is going to spoil me for that old monitor."

I smiled as I watched her work toward her programs. She had been using an old version of Windows 2000, now long obsolete. I had Windows XP on the laptop, but she would need a brief tutorial from me. In the meantime, she was going through her files to make sure everything was there. Luckily, nothing had been corrupted by the failure of the motherboard. 

Her sigh of relief when I turned the machine over to her was audible and a pleasure to hear. She really did need my help and she really did appreciate it.

"Oh, Mr. Prentice ... thank you so much. You've saved me from so much grief. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"You're welcome, but you can call me Aaron. If we run into each other at Bernie's, you can buy me a pint of ale in payment."

"That's the least I can do. What should I do about this old computer?"

I guess I was in a weakened condition when I said, "I'll trade you the laptop for it. You can keep the printer."

She looked at me in shock. "No ... I couldn't do that. That's not fair to you."

"It isn't about fair. You need a good, working computer. You have to keep a roof over your head, and your children in food and clothes. If this computer will help do that, then it's a fair trade." I gave her the impression I wasn't about to take no for an answer.

She blinked several time, perhaps on the verge of tears. I turned away to allow her a moment. "Thank you," she said quietly. 

I nodded and picked up the tower and monitor. They would go in the office electronics recycling bin tomorrow. She held the door for me as I stepped out onto the porch.

"Thank you again, Aaron. I don't know what I would have done without your generosity. Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Glad I could help. Perhaps I'll see you again at Bernie's."

I drove home feeling better than I had in many months. When I thought about it, I really didn't need the old laptop for emergencies. It was two or three generations newer than Mrs. Michaels' old desktop, so she would see a much quicker response on the computer. 

It felt good to help someone who really needed it. She was struggling to earn enough money to support herself and her family. She had been a housewife before her husband had been called up from reserves to active duty. She had no real business skills, but apparently she could sew and create clothes from patterns, and there was a limited market for that. Life couldn't be easy for her, and there probably wasn't much opportunity to enjoy any luxuries.

It was a couple of weeks before I thought of Yolanda Michaels again. It was a Tuesday, and I had dropped into Bernie's for my usual pint. It was pretty quiet at five o'clock, so Nick had some time to chat.

"You sure made a friend in Mrs. Michaels," he said.

"Oh ... good. I guess she told you about the computer."

"She couldn't get over how you would do that for her. That was a hell of a thing, Aaron. Not too many people would have done something like that for a person they'd just met."

"Aw ... she was in trouble and I could help. What the hell ... no big deal."

"That's not the way she sees it. Anyway, nice goin'. That beer is on the house."

"Thanks. I'll have to find more good deeds to do if there's a nice pint of suds at the end of the rainbow."

Nick laughed and moved back down the bar. I thought about Yolanda again. I did have that Open Office program that I could give her. Maybe when I saw what she was doing, I could help her with some other programs I had. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see her and the kids again. I was remembering how good I felt when I was in that house. I could use another "fix."

I phoned her at seven o'clock, and she answered almost immediately.

"Hi, Yolanda, it's Aaron Prentice. I just remembered I had a copy of a program that might help you. If you like, I could come over and load it on the laptop and show you how it worked."

"Oh ... Aaron, nice to hear from you. What kind of program are you talking about?"

"Well, your old Windows was obsolete and you don't have much experience with the newer one that I replaced it with. Also, you may want to do your own billing and accounting on the machine. I've got a program for that. I could come over anytime and show you how they worked."

"Oh, well ... uhhm ... I guess it would be okay. You really don't have to do this, you know. You've done so much for us already."

"To tell the truth, I need to do this to get enough credits for my Boy Scouts Good Citizenship badge," I joked.

She laughed. It was the first time I'd ever heard her laugh, and I wish I'd been there to see it first hand. 

"Oh, well then, I guess it's all right. I know the kids want to see you again, so why don't you come over before I put them to bed?"

The kids wanted to see me? What the hell? "Uhhm ... great. I'll see you in a few minutes."

I was a bit stunned at what she had said, and couldn't figure out why the children would have asked for me. They'd only seen me for a few minutes when I first arrived. Did I have as big an impression on them as they had on me?

I knocked on the door and immediately heard pounding little footfalls running to open it. Kirk had just beaten his sister to the door and they both were wrestling with it to let me in. I laughed, but their mother didn't think it was quite as funny.

"You two behave yourselves. Mr. Prentice is a guest," she said sternly. They quieted down immediately, but I could see the smiles on their faces as they watched me enter.

"Hi Deanna, Hi Kirk," I said as I watched their mother close the door behind me. "Nice to see you guys again."

"What are you going to do to the new computer, Mr. Prentice?" Deanna asked. 

"Well, I have a couple of programs that I think will help your mother when she's using it. I'm afraid they aren't games, though."

"That's okay, we know Mommy needs to work on the computer. Sometimes we get to use it too," she said proudly.

"Oh ... are you on the internet?" I asked without thinking.

"No ... we aren't on line. I wish I could afford it, but right now it's not in the budget," Yolanda explained.

I wish I'd just kept my big mouth shut. Another embarrassment for the woman. It must be hard when other kids have all these advantages and don't really appreciate it. 

"Do you have computers at school?" I asked, hoping to change the topic.

Deanna was nodding, but Kirk was shaking his head. "You have to be in grade three to use the computers. Kirk is just in grade one," Yolanda explained.

"Uhhm, I don't mean to interfere, but you could use your phone line to go online."

Yolanda was getting a frustrated look, and once again I had the feeling I had stepped over the line. It was time to try and salvage the situation.

"Yolanda, you could at least get your e-mail set up and be able to communicate with your customers at no charge, no matter where they were. It would save on long distance calls."

That seemed to mollify her, and she was nodding. "I haven't even attempted to try the internet. I was afraid I'd end up with charges for doing things that I didn't even know I was doing," she confessed.

"I think I can put your mind at rest. I assume you have a fixed rate on your phone for local calls?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Good, then I can easily set you up for a basic mailbox and you'll be able to send and receive messages without any cost. Setting up with a service provider is very inexpensive, five or so dollars a month. You'll be amazed at how much you can find in the way of information. With a regular phone line, it will be pretty slow, but just the same, it's all there for you."

I had brought my "junk box" of bits and pieces with me and went out to the car to get it. Within five minutes I had a splitter on the phone outlet, with a line to the phone and a second phone cord into the back of the laptop. It took a little longer to boot up Internet Explorer, but soon enough we had established a mailbox for her business. 

The kids were all eyes when they saw they would now have an internet connection. I warned them that they could only use it when their mom put in the secret password. I showed Yolanda how to do that, and she was mighty relieved. I think she may have had visions of one or the other of them stumbling onto porn sites or other undesirable locations. It would be slow, but with patience they could use the internet for all sorts of projects.

I went over the Windows XP tutorial and noticed that Yolanda was using Notebook as her word processor, so I added a copy of Open Office's word processor program to her partition. I showed her the templates and fonts, suggesting she could fool around designing all sorts of forms, from invoices, to sales messages, to ... whatever. She was nodding, and if her face was any indication, she was excited at the possibilities. 

The children were put to bed a little later than usual that evening. They were as excited as their mother that they would now have internet and were busy telling their mother about all the interesting sites they could visit. I waited until they were put down for the night. Yolanda had asked me to stay, and I wasn't about to turn her down.

"I didn't think I was ever going to get them to go to sleep. They're so excited about the internet. They don't remember when we had it a few years ago. You've really been a huge help, Aaron. I don't know how to thank you enough."

"Just let me keep coming around to help where I can. I'm on my own, as Nick has probably told you. I miss my boys, and I guess in a way, I'm using Deanna and Kirk as replacements. I don't mean that the way it sounds ... I mean ... they're great kids and they've got a great mom to look after them. But ... you can't do it all yourself, so I've appointed myself as the unofficial 'Mr. Fixit' for the Michaels household."

"Oh you have, have you," Yolanda said with a sly grin. "You didn't ask for my permission, Mr. Prentice."

"Ah ... well ... in the words of the old philosopher ... it's always easier to say you're sorry than to get permission."

"I've heard that. But ... I don't want you to feel obligated, Aaron. What you've done has been a godsend. I know I keep saying thank you, but I mean it, sincerely."

"I know. When I left here that first time after I brought the laptop over, I hadn't felt so good about anything in a long time. I slept really well that night, and for several nights afterward. That hadn't happened either in a long time. Allow me to enjoy the moment when I can do something to help you. I feel good about it, and hopefully you get the benefit."

She was nodding, a slight smile on her face. "Would you like some coffee, or something? I'm sorry, I don't have any beer."

"No ... nothing thanks. Coffee will keep me awake, and that's something I'm trying to overcome."

"It's been difficult for you ... losing your sons. I can't imagine what I would do if it happened to me. I would go crazy, I think."

"I almost did. I still have bad dreams, but they're getting less and less. I haven't forgotten the boys, but I think I've come to terms with the idea that for now, I can't do anything about the situation. The law won't help me enforce the visitation rights, and they're a couple of thousand miles away, so it's a difficult problem. I'll just have to follow Nick's advice and be patient."

"Do you have any family here?" she asked.

"No. My parents live in Costa Rica. Dad retired early on a government pension, and they bought a place down there. I see them once every year or so when one or the other of us visits, but that's about it."

"My mother is nearby, thank god. At least she and the next door neighbors can baby sit for me once in a while when I need to get away for a few hours. I call them my sanity breaks. My husband's parents live in Texas, so I don't see them very much at all. There are so many grandchildren in their family that I don't think they miss my kids. It's frustrating, but I can't make them pay attention to their son's children. I know they took his death as hard as I did."

We talked for quite a while. I learned that her late husband had been very handy with tools, just as I was. He had built a workshop in the basement, and had almost finished the playroom that was destined for the kids. Yolanda had taken it over as her sewing center, but it wasn't ideal. The lighting was poor and the floor was unfinished concrete. I asked her to show me the room. In the back of my mind, it might be a project that would allow me to help once more, not to mention spend more time with the Michaels family.

When I walked downstairs with her, I was surprised. The large room was drywalled and the walls painted soft beige, the ceiling white. The floor was bare concrete, but off to one side were stacked cartons of laminated flooring. It was the "floating floor" type, with a foam underlay. I opened the door into the workshop and stopped in surprise. It was fully equipped with a table saw, miter saw, drill press, compressor, nail gun, and a variety of other tools. Some were old, and some were new. Piled in one corner was several dozen feet of one-by-four primed boards, plenty for both the base and the casing around the two doorways.

I did a little mental calculation and figured that in less than a weekend, we could finish that basement room and make it habitable for both Yolanda and the children. There were only two one hundred watt bulbs for illumination, but that was easily remedied. I had two four-tube fluorescent fixtures in my storage unit with no use for them. It would provide much more light for her work area, and still light the room well.

I was all set to get to work before I remembered I hadn't talked to Yolanda about what I had in mind.

"What do you normally do on weekends?" I asked, looking to sound out the possibility.

"Not a lot. I usually work on my sewing on Saturday morning, and then I like to get the kids out of the house if the weather isn't too bad. We go to the park, or the zoo, or to watch a baseball game. We all need a break sometime," she said smiling.

"Absolutely. So ... if I were to suggest something for this weekend, would you be willing to hear me out?"

"I suppose so. What are you talking about?"

"Well, the weatherman says Saturday isn't going to be so hot, but Sunday should be sunny. I'm going to suggest I come over Saturday morning and get to work on your room downstairs. By my estimation, I can finish the floor and do the trim on Saturday. I can install a couple of fluorescent fixtures I have at home on Sunday morning, and then we can go out to a ballgame in the afternoon. Sound okay?"

"Aaron ... what's this about? I mean ... you're willing to do all this for us. I don't really understand."

"It's simple, and it relates to what I said about that first time I was here. It's my therapy. I need it. I need contact with people, and doing things to help them. I haven't contributed much in the last two years, but now I've found a cause. The Michaels family can use my help, so here I am." 

"But that's too much to ask. I feel like I'm taking advantage of you. I'm uncomfortable with all this."

"I know. I can tell. You aren't used to someone like me just barging in and insisting on doing things. But it's something that I need to do, and I know for sure that it's something that needs doing. When it's all over, the worst that can be said is that you got some work done around the house that made things better for you."

"And the best?"

I shrugged. "You've made a new friend."

"I already have that. At least, in my mind I do," she smiled.

"Well, there you go. You're already ahead. So what do you say? Saturday morning about nine-thirty too early?"

She smiled, and then she laughed. It was that laugh I heard on the telephone, and it looked even better than I imagined it would.

To Be Continued

Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.



Replacement Therapy Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Full Speed Ahead

I'd spent the good part of Friday evening organizing my thoughts about how to finish the basement room at the Michaels' home in the most efficient way. Yolanda agreed to paint the baseboards and casings if I did all the other stuff. I had half-gallon of semi-gloss white latex in my storage unit which I retrieved before leaving for the Michaels' house. That would look after the trim. I picked up my rubber hammer, cushioned knee pads, gloves, and safety glasses, and I was set for the day.

I hadn't reckoned on the children, and Kirk was full of questions about what I was going to do. The floor would be first, and that didn't require any nailing or gluing. It was a snap-fit system that only required cutting the final length in each row and using a rubber hammer on any stubborn pieces. I set up the miter saw in the workshop, and got started.

"Kirk, I need some help here. Can you bring me a piece of flooring when I say to?" I asked.

His face lit up. "Yeah. I can do that. Which piece?"

"Any one will do. Let's start with five or six pieces to get going, then we can figure out how we'll do it from there. I'll get three, and you get two, okay?"

"Okay." He rushed over to the open carton and picked up the top two pieces and brought them to me. In a flash, he was back for another two. I didn't need to move. 

We started by setting up three rows at a time, the nearest longer than the next, and so on. By the time Kirk had made four of five trips, I could see that this job was going to go quite quickly. I showed him how I would measure the last pieces and the cut-off would be the first piece in the next row. That way we always had a tongue end to start a new row. Kirk figured that part out quickly and we were off to the races.

The miter saw was out of his reach, but I didn't want him near it anyway. Besides, he was too busy figuring out where the next pieces would go. The only time consuming job was ripping the last row to width and working around the two doorways. By noon, we were almost done.

We'd been so occupied with our job that we hadn't noticed that Deanna was nowhere to be seen, but Yolanda had been sitting on the stairs watching us. For how long, I didn't know, but there she was as we neared the end. 

I stood up and looked around the room. The maple laminate had transformed the room into a warm area. I walked around the new floor, looking for squeaks or flexes, but found none. When I tapped the last piece into place with the rubber hammer under Kirk's careful supervision, I leaned back and we gave each other a "high five."

"It looks wonderful, Aaron," Yolanda said. "And you got it done so quickly."

"Couldn't have done it without Kirk's help," I said, playing to the audience.

"Yeah, Mom. I helped a lot," he said proudly.

"You sure did. I watched you. You were really busy setting up the pieces. Nice going!" his mother enthused. Kirk was busy acknowledging his accolades. 

"Where's Deanna," I asked.

"She's over at her friend's house. She's doesn't like the sound of the saw. She's afraid of it."

"Yeah, Deanna's a fraidy-cat," Kirk said, obviously implying he wasn't.

"Oh well, it wasn't girls work anyway, was it," I grinned at Kirk. I got a dirty look from Yolanda for my effort.

"Yeah! Making stuff is for guys, right, Mr. Prentice?"

I nodded briefly, but chose not to agree verbally.

"After lunch, we'll do the casings and baseboards. That shouldn't take too long either. You can help, but you'll have to be careful. No touching the nail gun, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, hands on hips, surveying his mornings work with pride. 

We sat around the kitchen table eating sandwiches and drinking milk. Yolanda was beaming, and Kirk was restless, asking questions about what other work needed to be done besides the basement room. When Kirk finished his last sandwich and drank all his milk, he excused himself and raced for the basement once more. I figured he wanted to spend more time admiring his efforts.

"You've made a friend for life, Aaron. He loved every minute of this morning. He can't wait to tell his friends all about it at school on Monday. His father was always reluctant to let him in the workshop for fear of him getting hurt."

"I understand that. I'm the same way. But Kirk's a little older now, and with some clear instructions, I think he can contribute without my putting him in danger. We'll see how it goes this afternoon. I may even be able to get those light fixtures started today."

"If you need some more help, let me know. I'll be glad to pitch in where I can."

I looked at her and saw that enigmatic smile she was beginning to show more often. "This is fun for me, you know. I haven't had a project for a long time, and this one had gone very smoothly. It's all part of my rehab."

She blushed as I smiled at her. We weren't that comfortable around each other yet. Perhaps she was suspicious of my motives. A young widow, on her own, vulnerable to a guy out looking for a conquest? That wasn't me, but how would I convince her of that. I guess all I could do was to continue persuading her with my willingness to help without asking for anything in return. Maybe over time she'd understand it was just as important for me to help her as it was for her to get help.

"I didn't see any bicycles in the basement," I observed. "Do they have them?"

"Deanna had a little pink girl's bike, but she's outgrown it and Kirk wouldn't be seen dead riding it," she laughed. "It's another one of those luxuries that aren't at the top of the list yet." 

I nodded understanding, but filed the information away for future use.

"What are you going to put in the new room in the way of furniture? I asked.

"One of our neighbors has donated an old ping pong table that I can use for cutting and laying out my work. It's a big table, so that will take up almost half the room."

"Anything else?"

"No ... everything else is upstairs and in use."

I sat thinking for a minute. "Do you have anything important to do this afternoon?"

"No ... I assumed you would be here all day."

"Alright then, I'd like to borrow your truck, and you and the kids can come with me. I have an idea I want to share with you."

"What kind of an idea?" she asked.

"Never mind. Just let me show you what I'm thinking, and then you can decide if you like my idea or not."

Again, she had that suspicious look. I hadn't reached the point of trust with her, but I would keep working toward that goal.

When Yolanda's husband, Ryan, was called up, he left behind his 250 series Ford pickup. When he was killed, Yolanda sold her little Honda sedan for cash, keeping the much more valuable truck. It had a crew cab, so the four of us could ride together. It would be perfect for what I wanted to do.

When I sold our house and moved into the condo, I had furniture and furnishings galore and no space for it. I thought about selling it all on ebay, but I never got around to it. I didn't need the money and I couldn't seem to get up the energy to do something with it all. I had rented a heated storage unit and put everything in there, almost forgetting about it.

It had rained fairly steadily Friday night and into Saturday morning, but it quit before noon. It looked like it was going to clear, just as they had predicted, so it would be an ideal time to haul things without having to worry about a tarp. I chose not to tell Yolanda just what I had in mind, fearing that she would put her foot down and refuse. I wasn't going to give her a chance. With any luck, Deanna and Kirk would make sure of that.

Deanna had come home for lunch and when the dishes were done and put away, Kirk and I returned to the basement to finish the room. It went even quicker than I had guessed. I wasn't trying to miter the corners. The door casings were first, and I simply cut the header an inch longer than flush with outside of the casing to give it a noticeable overhang. Six cuts and a few nails from the power-nailer, and we had two doors cased. 

The baseboard corners were even simpler, just butting the two pieces to each other; one tight to the wall, the other tight to the adjoining baseboard. We were finished before two o'clock. Kirk had helped by holding the boards in place snug to the wall while I ran the nail gun along, firing through the base into the shoe plate of the wall. Once again, the young boy got enormous satisfaction in helping me with a simple, safe job.

"Okay, Kirk. The only thing left is to paint the boards, and the job is done," I announced, followed by another high five.

"Oh, Aaron, it looks wonderful," Yolanda exclaimed from the stairs. "I'll get started painting the trim tonight."

"Okay, I'll help you tape it off. We wouldn't want any paint on your new floor or walls." 

I could see the look of happiness in her eyes. That was worth the effort all by itself.

I loaded the kids into the back of the crew cab and the four of us were off, with only me knowing our destination. When I pulled into the storage lot, I think Yolanda figured it out, but didn't say anything. So far, so good.

If my memory served me right, I knew what the kids were going to see first when I rolled up the sectional door on the unit. I was right. Two youth bicycles were sitting there, leaning on their kick stands. I had cleaned and oiled them before I put them away, hoping against hope that my boys would get a chance to ride them again. It never happened.

"Mom! Look at this," Kirk squealed. "Bikes!"

Deanna was just as enthused. "Mom ... this is just like the bike Carolyn has. Wow!"

"Okay, gang, give me a hand and we'll put them in the truck first," I said, not daring to look at Yolanda. If looks could kill, I suspected they'd be holding funeral services over me about now. I could almost feel the heat. Once they were loaded into the truck, I turned and faced my fate.

She was standing there, red-faced, but with a grim smile. I might just get away with this.

"You did this deliberately, didn't you!" she said, almost whispering.

"Guilty. I told you about it being easier to say sorry and get permission didn't I?"

She just shook her head in disgust, and now I knew I had a chance to pull the rest of this plot off. 

On top of a pile of covered furniture was a rolled up eight foot by three-and-a-half foot braided oval rug. I pulled it off, and flopped it into the truck along the side of the box. 

"Can't have the kids playing on a cold floor down there. This will fix that." I unrolled a couple of feet to show Yolanda the colors. They were brown, burnt sienna, and sand. They would suit the room perfectly. I didn't bother to check for Yolanda's expression. I was sure it wouldn't be pleasant.

I went back in, and uncovered a nice maple rocking chair, almost the same finish as the floor. "Here's something for mom when she's doing her sewing," I announced to the kids. It was the next thing into the truck.

A goose-neck floor lamp with an adjustable neck followed, again the right thing for close work, in or out of the rocking chair. I didn't bother announcing it, since everyone could see what it was. Back into the room and I rummaged around, looking for what ever I could find. Not everything would go to the house today. There were two items that were too heavy for me. They would have to wait for another day.

An old wing chair was an easy choice, and I added it to the load. As I prowled around, I found something I had forgotten about. It was a boot-box full of Lego. I picked it up and put it on the tailgate.

"Have a look at this, kids," I said.

"Wow! Look at all the Lego, Mom. This is way more than we have. We can build lots more things now," Kirk announced in a loud voice. 

This time, Yolanda was just shaking her head, obviously having surrendered to my plot. Victory! 

We drove back to the house with the kids bubbling away in the back seat, checking every once in a while that the bikes were still in the back. The box of Lego was between them, and they were looking at the various items, announcing every once in a while some new part. In the meantime, the front seat was silent. Icy silent.

I unloaded the truck and the first thing the children wanted to do was ride their bikes. Deanna's bike was Terry's old bike, and it fit her fine. I wouldn't have to lower the seat. Kirk rode Matt's bike, and in his case, I had to raise the seat an inch or so. Kirk was going to be a big boy. I got a great deal of satisfaction watching them ride along the sidewalk and up and down the driveway. 

"You ambushed me," I heard over my shoulder. Yolanda didn't sound pleased.

"Sorry, but if I'd told you what I wanted to do, would you have been okay with it?"

She looked out at her children, and back to me. "Probably not. You're taking choices out of my hands, Aaron. I want them to have a bike, just like the other kids have. But right now, I can't afford it. Now, they'll think they just have to ask you and it will happen."

"Nope. Not so. I didn't operate that way with my kids, and I won't do that to yours either." I paused and sat on the tailgate of the truck. "Yolanda, all that stuff in the storage unit are things from my past. Bikes the kids will never ride again. Furniture I didn't have room for in my condo. All sorts of things that are surplus from a previous life. 

"I suppose I could have sold all or most of it on ebay, or something like that, but ... I couldn't at first. It would mean giving up on the past. Cutting the last tie. Then, when I knew it was really over and done, I just couldn't summon the energy to do it. So it sat ... and sat ... until one day, when I met a very brave woman who needed a hand. Someone who wouldn't ask for anything if her life depended on it. Someone who deserved a break. It was in my power to help, and I didn't think twice about doing it. Please don't take away the good feeling I get when I can help you."

She was looking at me intently, her eyes boring into mine. I held her gaze, challenging her to break first. 

"It's hard for me to understand you, Aaron. There are times when I wonder if you have an ulterior motive. There are other times when I think you are a saint. Somewhere in the middle is the real Aaron Prentice, I guess."

"I'm no saint. Georgia wouldn't have sailed off into the sunset if I were. But ... there's no hidden agenda, I promise. I said it was therapy, and it really is. I hope sometime you'll come to trust me on that. In the meantime, I'm determined to help, so I guess I'm asking you to get used to it."

She looked at me, again with suspicion, but perhaps there were cracks forming in her armor. I would try to prove my motives were pure. At least, I was pretty sure they were pure. Sex wasn't something that had been on my mind much in the past couple of years. Georgia had done a number on me that way. Yolanda was safe from me.

I was invited for dinner, and I accepted. It beat the hell out of eating alone. The children were lively, talking about all the things they could do with the Lego, and all the places they could go with their friends on their new bikes. I caught Yolanda smiling as they voiced their enthusiasm. I think she had come to terms with my actions, and was sharing her children's happiness.

Before I left, I reminded them that I would be back Sunday morning to work on the lighting fixtures. My impromptu visit to the storage unit had put a stop to the effort in the basement. However, it was only an hour's work to install the fixtures, so I would be finished quickly. They were going to church for eleven o'clock services, and I promised to be done and gone before then. 

Kirk and Deanna wanted to ride their bikes Sunday afternoon, so the baseball game was forgotten. I didn't mind. We knew a big area when they could ride safely. I had given them the helmets that the boys wore, after Yolanda and I cleaned them thoroughly. I would be quite happy to be sitting with this captivating woman while we watched the kids have fun. Perhaps I could get a little closer to her ... maybe to the point she would trust me a little more.

The afternoon seemed to spin away so quickly, and when we put the bikes in the back of the truck and headed for home, I was disappointed. True, I'd had a nice conversation with Yolanda, but I didn't learn an awful lot. I was well aware of how attractive she was, but that wasn't what I was interested in. I wanted to find a way to crack the walls she had erected around herself. I'm not sure what my motives were, but it was becoming a challenge that I couldn't or wouldn't ignore.

As a side effect, my newly improved mood was noticed almost immediately at the office. I was feeling good and I guess it showed. Sandra showed up at my desk and openly flirted with me for a few minutes. She hadn't given up hope that I might forget the company policy and date her. That wasn't going to happen. If I was going to date anyone, it would be Yolanda.

I stopped in to Bernie's for a pint after work on Thursday afternoon.

"Hello, stranger. I haven't seen you for a while," Nick remarked.

"Nope. Been busy."

"Oh ... work?"

"Nope. Just doing things to help out Yolanda ... Mrs. Michaels."

"Really. Well, I haven't seen her much either. You two keeping each other company these days?"

"We see each other on the weekends when I drop over to do some chores, or take the kids out riding on their bikes."

Nick nodded knowingly. "Good for you. If she wasn't so skittish, she'd make good girlfriend material."

"Yeah. I have to take it very slow with her. I don't know why she's so nervous around me. I didn't think I was that scary."

"Well, you've got a lot farther than anyone else ever has. I think she's just so beat down over trying to keep her family together that she won't let herself relax. She needs a vacation."

"You could be right Nick, but every time I try to help her, she gets uptight about it."

"What kind of help?"

"I've got all this stuff in storage that's just sitting there doing nothing. I gave the kids bikes ... the bikes my boys used to ride. It was no big deal for me, but she was upset that her kids would think that anything they wanted, I would get for them." 

"Would you?"

I snorted, almost driving beer through my nose. It was a hell of a question. Would I?

"Maybe," I admitted.

Nick smiled and walked back down the bar to look after the waitress's order. 

"So, Nick, what do you suggest?" I asked when he returned.

He shrugged. "I take it you've already told her you're just doing it to help?"

"Yeah ... but ... she's got her pride, and I think that makes it harder for her to accept gifts or handouts from me. It's like taking charity, and she doesn't want that. I'm trying to figure out how to help her without getting her upset."

"It is charity. You can't hide that. She's getting something of value at no cost. That's charity."

"You're a big help," I groused. 

"So, what's in it for you? Why do it?"

I shrugged this time. "It makes me feel good. I'm doing something to help someone who can use a hand up. I told her it was therapy for me. It is, too."

"And that's all? No ulterior motive?" Nick was giving me one of his no-nonsense looks. 

"Okay, okay ... she's a nice looking woman and I love her kids. Yeah ... I want to get to know her better. Damned if I can break through that wall she's built around herself though."

"How does she feel about you?"

"Don't know. Oh, she'll go out with me when we take the kids to the park, or a ball game. But there's nothing personal going on when we do. I've tried to find out more about her, but she doesn't tell me very much. I wish I knew just what she thought about me. I'm afraid if I ask her, I might not get the answer I want to hear."

"That's always the risk," Nick said, moving down the bar to serve a new customer.




Replacement Therapy Ch. 02



I took Yolanda and the kids to the Sacramento Zoo on Saturday afternoon. I had cut the grass and trimmed the lawn and a couple of hedges in the morning. She had been paying a teenage boy to do it for her, but the results were haphazard, and he was proving to be unreliable. I was charging her only for lunch when I finished. At least she felt like she was paying something.

I returned to my condo, showered and changed before picking the family up in my car. It turned out to be another nice day, and the children were tired by the time we got back to their house. We had stopped for pizza along the way, with Yolanda insisting on splitting the cost with me. I had some cleaning and laundry to do at the condo on Sunday, so I wouldn't see them again until next weekend.

It was a Wednesday evening when there was an unexpected knock on my door. I opened it and saw a middle-aged woman I didn't recognize.

"Hello, are you Mr. Aaron Prentice?"

"Yes ... what can I do for you?"

"I'm Margaret McCarty. I'm Yolanda Michaels' mother. May I come in?" 

"Uh ... yeah ... sure, come in," I stumbled. This I hadn't expected. I wondered if I was in trouble.

Mrs. McCarty sat in one of my very upright wing chairs. It seemed to suit her very erect posture.

"Mr. Prentice, I understand you've been helping my daughter around the house. I hope Yolanda thanked you properly for everything."

"Yes. She's a bit reluctant to accept my help, but ... yes ... she does thank me."

"I'm not surprised. Ryan's death was a heavy blow to her and she hasn't really been settled since then. You're the first person who seems to have been able to get through to her. I just wondered how you came to know her."

"Uh ... well ... to tell the truth ... she approached me. Her computer broke down and she was told I might be able to help." I didn't think Mrs. McCarty needed to know we had met in a bar.

"Yes, she showed me the computer you gave her. That was quite a generous gift, Mr. Prentice."

"Please, call me Aaron. And the laptop was surplus to my needs. It isn't the latest and greatest, but it is several steps above what she was using."

"And you can call me Meg. All my friends do," she smiled.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Meg McCarty continued.

"Then you finished the basement room. It looks wonderful, by the way."

"Yes ... all the tools and materials were already there. It was just a few hours work, no more."

"And the carpet and the children's bicycles?"

"Same thing. Just sitting around, not being used."

She was eyeing me, trying to judge something about me, I suppose.

"Uhhm, Meg, are you uncomfortable about my being involved with your daughter and her family?" 

"I was. When my daughter started talking about Aaron did this, or Aaron did that, and it kept happening, I became suspicious. I'm a pretty good judge of character, but so far I don't see any ulterior motive here. I am curious, though. Why haven't you asked her for a date?" 

"Uhhm, well, we have had a couple of dates I guess ... in a way."

"You mean taking the children to the park or the zoo?"

I nodded.

"That wasn't quite what I was thinking of. I've told Yolanda that I will always be available for baby-sitting duties whenever she needs me. My grandchildren are special to me, and on top of that, they're wonderful kids. I gather from what she has said, you think so too."

"Absolutely! I'll be the first to admit that I was using them to replace my own boys, but it didn't take long before I was thinking of them as two great kids who make their mother proud."

"So I hear. You've made two young people very happy, Aaron. You may not realize it, but they are starting to think of you in more important terms than just a friend of their mother's."

"Well, they stole my heart first. That's my only defense."

She smiled at me, and it was a friendly, open smile. There was no threat coming from Meg McCarty.

"I think you might be on the way to stealing their mother's heart too."

"You could have fooled me, Meg. I've been trying to get Yolanda to open up, but she's very protective ... very guarded. I've been afraid to ask her for a date for fear I'd push her even farther away."

"Go ahead and ask her. You might get a surprise. And don't worry ... I'll be there to look after the children. I work cheap," she grinned.

"Yeah ... that's another thing. Yolanda is obsessed with keeping within her budget. I understand why, but I she needs to give herself a break. She's so devoted to the children at the expense of herself."

"That's exactly right, and the only person that's likely to change that is you," she said pointing her finger toward me. "She refused to let me help her financially. Just the same, I know my daughter pretty well, and she wouldn't be talking about you every time I called if you hadn't made an impression on her."

"Well then, I guess it's up to me."

She smiled again and rose from the chair. "I have a feeling that you will be good for my daughter. She needs something good in her life. I hope you are it."

I walked to the door with her and opened it. "Thank you for coming, Meg. You've helped me make up my mind. It's time I made the first move. I guess I'll just have to hope for the best."

She turned and smiled once more, "It's nice to meet you, Aaron. I think my daughter would do very well to have you as a close friend."

With that she was gone, leaving me wondering just what had happened. Yolanda's mother was giving me approval to date her daughter. In fact, she was encouraging it. But what made her think that Yolanda would agree? That business about her mentioning me to her mother regularly caught me by surprise. Did I have a greater effect on her than I thought?

Thursday morning I awoke after a restless night of interrupted sleep. I had spent the time thinking about all the scenarios that might occur when I asked Yolanda for a date. I felt like I was reverting to my teenage years, frightened to death of rejection, uncertain how to approach a girl I was interested in. Worried that word would get out that I had been turned down. It didn't seem much different over twenty years later.

"Hi, Yolanda, it's Aaron. How are you?" I asked nervously when she picked up the phone.

"Fine ... I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good. Everything's good." I had run out the string. That was my opening, but I hadn't worked out where I went from here.

"What did you call about?" she asked after the long pause.

"Uhhm ... actually ... I was wondering ... maybe ... you and I ... well ... we could go out some time. You know ... to dinner or something." Jesus! That was pathetic. I was cringing as I waited for a response. Any response.

"Oh ... well ... that sounds nice. I'd have to make sure my mother could baby-sit for me ... but ... yes, I'd like that."

Holy shit! She said yes! "That's great ... really great. I was thinking maybe Saturday night. Would that be all right?"

"Yes. I'm sure mother would be happy to look after the children. What time?"

"Oh ... uhhm ... say seven o'clock? That wouldn't be too late, would it?"

"No," she giggled lightly, "that would be fine. I'll let you know if there's any problem, but you can pick me up at seven."

When I finally hung up, I felt like I was on drugs. My head was spinning, and I could feel the tension release in my chest. It was crazy how uptight I had been about asking a woman out on a date. I was thirty-seven years old and I was acting like I was thirteen. I needed to get a life.

I changed my mind three or four times about what I would wear. At first I thought maybe I would wear a suit. Then, thinking that would be too formal, I figured a sport coat and casual shirt. It must have taken me two or three tries to finally decide on a blazer, slacks, and an open-neck button-down dress shirt. I would have a tie tucked in my inside pocket, just in case. This date had become a serious deal.

When I arrived at the Michaels' door, I was greeted by the usual stampede of children's feet, followed by the struggle at the door. Deanna won this time.

"Hi Mr. Prentice," the two said almost in perfect unison.

"Hi Deanna, Hi Kirk. How are you tonight?"

"Mom's putting her clothes on," Kirk volunteered. 

I couldn't help myself, I laughed, noticing that Meg McCarty was stifling one herself.

"Hello, Meg. How are you tonight?" I asked.

"I'm fine, Aaron. So nice you're taking Yolanda out to dinner tonight. I hope you enjoy yourselves. Don't feel rushed to get back here, either. I can look after things fine," she said with a wink.

"How come you are going out to supper? You could have had supper here, you know? Grandma did," Kirk announced.

"Uh, well, I thought it might be nice if your mom didn't have to cook and do the dishes tonight," I managed.

"Oh." That must have satisfied Kirk. Deanna was sitting beside her grandmother on the sofa and smiling. In fact, she was having a hard time suppressing a giggle.

"So, what's so funny, young lady," I asked.

"Mommy's going on a date with her boyfriend," she snickered.

"She is? I thought she was going out with me," I cried, feigning ignorance.

"No, silly. You're her boyfriend."

"I am?"

"Yes. You're the only one who comes to the house. And you help Mommy. You even have lunch with us. You must be her boyfriend," she announced with indisputable logic.

"Oh, I didn't know that," I said, looking sideways at Meg and noting her mirthful expression. "Well, I hope I'm dressed okay then."

"You have shiny shoes, just like my dad used to have," she said. "He was in the army, and he always had to have shiny shoes. I like shiny shoes."

"Me too, Deanna," I said with a big smile. 

Yolanda made her entrance, and I was caught by surprise. She was dressed in a beautiful burgundy sheath dress that made sure everyone knew she was all female. The cleavage was noticeable, but not excessive. The hemline was just at the knees, the shoulders bare. Her hair seemed different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on the change. 

She was wearing makeup for the first time since I had known her. A simple gold chain around her neck, small gold loop earrings, and a slim wristwatch were the only accessories. She looked spectacular.

"Wow," was my eloquent pronouncement. 

"You look pretty, Mommy," Deanna said sincerely.

"Thank you, darling. And thank you for the 'Wow,' Aaron," she smiled. 

"I have to ask. Is this one of your creations?" I asked in admiration.

"Yes. I take it you approve."

"Oh my. It is lovely. I think I should go home and change into something more formal."

She laughed. "No, you look very nice. I wasn't trying to upstage you."

"You two run along now or you'll be late for your reservation. Have a nice evening," Meg said, obviously trying to get us moving.

It was a typical warm spring evening in central California. There was no need for a jacket or wrap for Yolanda. I had made reservations at George's, a European restaurant that I frequented. The food was excellent, as long as you weren't afraid of garlic. I took a chance, but with Meg McCarty's advice, I knew it wasn't a big one.

Meg had called me after I made my date with her daughter and congratulated me on my quick action. Apparently, she had told Yolanda about her visit to my home, but not necessarily all the details. I was getting to like Meg more and more. She was my kind of gal.

Then again, so was Yolanda. For the first time in a long time, I was thinking of a woman I wanted to be involved with more intimately. Sex had reared its long-suppressed head. Two years of abstinence had caused my formerly normal male urges to hibernate, but a burgundy dress and a beautiful woman had prodded me into wakefulness. 

I'm sure the food was wonderful. Yolanda said it was and I was satisfied she meant it. I don't remember. I was just as lost in her company as I was on the telephone when I asked her for this date. I had gone from being the white knight to something a little less shiny. My primal urges were once again coming to the fore. Yolanda Michaels was a babe!

I had been very careful to only have one glass of wine, since I was driving and I wanted to continue the evening.

"Yolanda, there's a nice place called the Carousel that features a traditional dance band on the weekend. Would you like to go there with me? I'm not a terrible dancer," I said, hoping I hadn't discouraged her.

"All right. I haven't been dancing in years. It will be nice to try again, but I warn you, I might be a little rusty," she smiled. 

"No more than me. Let's go." We walked hand-in-hand to the car.

Yolanda loosened up quite a bit. She was relaxed and enjoying herself. Our conversation during dinner was pleasant and unforced. We talked a little about everything, and discovered what we had in common, which was more than I would have guessed. The only topic that was off-limits was her late husband, but I hadn't planned to bring him up anyway. 

The Carousel was a large, circular convention center, broken up into sections for various events. Each weekend, a dance band was booked, and the public was welcome from eight o'clock through one in the morning. There was a bar served by attractively dressed waitresses. Georgia and I had been here few times, and we enjoyed it.

The typical music was swing and forties-fifties standards. It was aimed at older couples and didn't feature rock-and-roll. It was exactly what I wanted for Yolanda and myself. You could talk without being drowned out by the music, and the atmosphere was more intimate. I might not have had much to drink, but I was intoxicated by Yolanda. 

This was a completely different woman than I had understood before tonight. She might have been unaware of her seductive charm, but no one else was. As I held her in my arms, I was being seduced ... willingly. We spent quite a lot of time on the dance floor, and as the evening progressed, she was dancing closer and closer to me.

"Thank you," she said quietly, as we danced slowly to a soft melody. "This is very nice. It's been so long." She didn't finish the thought. 

"My pleasure. It's been just as nice for me. I think most of the men in this place are envious of me. You look so beautiful tonight. I feel very lucky."

She looked up at me and smiled. I had the urge to kiss her, but I held back, waiting until I was more confident that it wouldn't be rejected. She tucked her head back into me and we continued on slowly, barely moving in place. I was happy that she was in my arms. 

All too soon, it was time to go. I was surprised that it was midnight. The time seemed to escape us so quickly. We drove back to her home in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts, I suppose. For me, it was about where this might go in the future. I wanted there to be a future for us. If I was falling in love with her, it was her fault. She was irresistible. It just took me a while to figure that out. 

As we got to the front door, she turned to me.

"That was lovely, Aaron. Thank you," she smiled.

"Can we do this again?"

"I'd like to," she said, surprising me. "Good night." At that moment, she leaned into me and kissed me. A nice, gentle, full-on-the-lips kiss.

By the time I'd opened my eyes, she had opened the door and turned back to me.

"Call me." 

Two words. That was enough. Just two simple words. 

I turned, and in a giddy state, walked back down the stairs toward my car. A perfect evening. A perfect moment ... that kiss. Things were starting to go the way I hoped they would. I could feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins as I drove back to my condo.

I was still experiencing that euphoric state as I got out of my car. I remember a bright flash of light before I felt the incredible pain that followed. My head, my chest, my gut. Pain like nothing I'd ever experienced. I was losing consciousness as I slipped to the ground. What was happening to me? It was my last sentient thought.

To be continued...

Edited by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.



Replacement Therapy Ch. 03



Chapter 3: Yoyo, DeDe, and Captain Kirk

Thank god it was dark when I tried to open my eyes. I was floating around in some never-never land. I could feel pain, but it wasn't acute. It was my eyes that hurt the most. They were like two steel ball bearings, rolling around in the bottom of a tin can. Even the slightest movement of my head would set them off again. 

I tried to form a coherent thought. Where was I? What had happened to me? I was lying on a cool, firm surface, trying to concentrate. There was a cover over me. I could feel it. Was I dead? No, the cover stopped at my chest. My chest. I could feel the pain just below the surface. Why wasn't anyone here? Was this a morgue? I had to make someone understand ... I wasn't dead.

I lay there, trying to assemble the information I had available. I was alive, it was dark, I was on some kind of a platform, I was hurt, but ... what else? At some point I could hear noises. Footsteps, I thought. That's good. Someone is coming for me. But they never did. And little gong sounds every now and then. What did it all mean?

I drifted off again into that wonderland of dreams. Strange dreams with shiny boots and pavement, three boys and a little girl. A very lovely woman, dressed in dark red. She looked happy. She was saying "Call me," as she faded away. 

It was light the next time I tried to open my eyes. It seemed to take a herculean effort to accomplish that little task. As my eyes focused, I recognized I was in a room, a pale green room. There were things attached to me. Tubes and wires. Someone was calling me.

"Wake up, Mr. Prentice," a soft female voice called from a distance. "Time to wake up."

I turned my head slightly. She was dressed like a nurse. If she was a nurse, I was probably in a hospital. That made sense. I felt the cool dampness of a cloth wiping my face. It didn't hurt. It felt like it was the only place on my body that didn't hurt. I tried to speak.

"Whaa ... hawww," I heard myself croak. 

The young woman held a cup with a straw and put it into my mouth. Instinctively I began to draw on it. It felt good. Cool and wet, just like the cloth. I could swallow. It didn't hurt. Another good thing. I tried again.

"How ... wha' happen?" I managed finally.

"I don't know, Mr. Prentice. The doctor will be along soon, and he can tell you," she smiled. She had a nice smile. It was just like another smile I remembered. The lady in the red dress. She smiled like that. I felt better. As long as I didn't move, I felt better. I drifted off again, skimming like a porpoise, in and out of consciousness.

"Mr. Prentice ... are you awake?" This time it was a male voice. I forced my eyes to open, in spite of the pain. 

"Ya," was all I could manage. The young nurse appeared from nowhere and offered the straw to me once more. I sipped and felt my throat loosen again.

"Where am I?" At least I was making verbal sense now.

"Sutter Medical Centre. I'm Doctor Mike Davis. Glad to see you back in the land of the living," he said. It sounded like he thought it was humorous. 

"Barely. What happened?"

"You were attacked, apparently. You were beaten by one or more people. Very badly beaten, as it turns out. You have a concussion, several cracked ribs, a bruised kidney, and possibly a damaged spleen. You're going to be here for a while."

"Robbery?"

"I don't think so. When they admitted you, you still had money in your wallet and your pants pocket. I'll leave that to the police though. They'll want to talk to you when you're up to it."

"When did this happen?"

"The night before last. We've had you on sedatives to keep you from feeling too much pain. That's still to come, I'm afraid."

"Oh goody," I croaked. Again the straw magically arrived at my mouth and I sipped more water. 

"What do you remember of that night, Mr. Prentice?"

"I remember taking my lady friend home and driving back to my apartment. Nothing after that, though."

"Do you remember your address and phone number?"

I recited them, knowing they were correct.

"Do you have any next of kin here in Yuba City?"

"No ... no one. I work at Big Valley Box. I'll need to let them know what happened to me."

"We'll look after that for you. What about friends. Whom should we contact?"

I gave them Johnny Gordon's phone number and then, I knew there was one other person I need to inform. 

"Please call Mrs. Yolanda Michaels. She lives on St. Mary's Road. She'll be in the book," I gasped, having used up just about all the energy I had.

"Fine. We'll have someone contact them. In the meantime, the good news is that you seem to be fine as far as memory goes. I'm sure your head doesn't feel good thanks to the banging it got and the pain suppressant we've been feeding you. We'll start to wean you off that as soon as we can."

"Okay. Thanks." That was it. I was slipping away again. Too much work to stay awake.

I woke in the middle of the night. The room was dark, but I could make out shapes from the light coming through the venetian blinds. My door was closed and it was silent. I was sweating and I knew I needed to pee. I couldn't find the call button. I didn't want to wet the bed. I went to touch my penis and hold it closed when I discovered a tube leading from the tip. A catheter. I relaxed and let go. It was painful, but it was a relief.

The dreams were back again. The shiny boot. What the hell was that about? It didn't connect to anything. I knew who the lady in red was. That was Yolanda, and I wasn't imagining it when she kissed me or when she asked me to call her. Those weren't dreams. Those were memories. Very nice memories. Eventually, I drifted off again, conscious of more chest pain now. Broken ribs, I remembered.

The pretty young nurse had been replaced by an older, stouter woman when I awoke the next morning. Breakfast looked pretty unappetizing. I was hungry, but I didn't usually start my morning with Jell-O, something that might have been Cream of Wheat and tea. I complained to the nurse. She gave me a dirty look, admonishing me that this is what was called for, and it was all that I was going to get. So much for customer service.

According to the big clock on the wall it was ten o'clock when I got my first visitor. 

"Good morning, Mr. Prentice. My name is Detective Sergeant Lofthouse. I was hoping you might be up to answering a few questions."

"I'll try. I don't know what I can tell you, though. I don't remember much that happened that night."

"I understand. Perhaps it would be better if I told you what we know."

I nodded carefully.

"As far as we can determine, you were attacked sometime near Friday midnight. You weren't discovered until the next morning when one of your neighbors found you lying beside your car, unconscious. He called 911 and they brought you here.

"Your wallet and keys were still in your possession and your car hadn't been touched, so robbery didn't seem to be the motive. That leaves other possibilities, of course. Can you think of anyone who would want to do this to you?"

"No ... no one. I didn't think I had any enemies."

"Okay. Where were you that night?"

I explained the dinner date, the dancing, and bringing Yolanda home before heading back to my apartment.

"Is Mrs. Michaels married?"

"No ... I mean ... she's a widow. Her husband was killed in Afghanistan."

"Maybe a jealous ex-boyfriend, trying to warn you off?"

"I'd be surprised. She's been pretty much on her own, trying to keep her kids and home together. She hasn't had time for a boyfriend."

"Until you came along?"

"I guess. I've been helping her out with things. You can ask her. She'll tell you."

"Anything else you can think of?"

"I'm sorry, Detective, it happened so fast. I didn't get a look at him."

"Him? You think there was just one assailant?"

I closed my eyes, trying desperately to remember. "That's my impression. I don't exactly know why, but I think it was just one big guy."

"Big? You think he was big?"

Again, I tried to recall what was going on in those few semi-conscious seconds. "Yeah. Big hands, big feet. Wait ... big feet in big boots. Big polished boots." I now knew where the image of the shined boots came from in my dreams. It was virtually the last thing I saw before I passed out from the attack.

"What kind of boots? Hiking boots? Workman's boots?"

"Combat boots. Big, black, polished combat boots."

"Well, that's something. A start, anyway. Anything else? Did he say anything when he was attacking you?"

"I think he did, but I couldn't make head or tail of it. He was warning me, I think. That's what I thought it sounded like. But, I don't remember any words that come to me right now."

"Okay, Mr. Prentice. You've done a lot better than I expected. If you can remember anything more, I'll leave my card and you can call me. If I don't answer, just leave a message. I'll be around."

"Thanks. Good luck. I hope you get this guy. I'd love to know why he would pick me out for this. Maybe it's just a case of mistaken identity," I suggested.

"Maybe ... we'll see. In the meantime, relax and get well. I'll keep you up to date."

"Thanks again," I offered. He seemed to be very thorough, and there was some hope he might be able to find the guy that attacked me.

He'd barely cleared the door when my next two visitors arrived. Yolanda and Meg. They approached me, trying desperately to smile, but I could see Yolanda's lips quivering. I reached out to her, and she took my hand.

"How are you, Aaron? I was so scared when I heard what happened to you," she said, her face a mask of concern.

"I've been better," I joked with a smile. Hi Meg. Nice to see you both. Where are the kids?"

"In school," Yolanda answered with a strange look.

"What day is it?" I asked.

"Monday. It's Monday." I could see more worry on her face.

"Oh yeah ... I forgot. I was out of it for a couple of days. I kind of lost track of time."

"What happened? We were told someone beat you. Is that true?" Yolanda asked, still with that worried look.

"I'm afraid so. I have no idea who, though. As I told the detective, I didn't think I had an enemy in the world. I'm wondering if it isn't a case of mistaken identity. If it is, I'm going to have to get a disguise," I cracked. That got a smile from Meg, but not from Yolanda.

"Relax, Yolanda. I'm not on anyone's 'Most Wanted' list. The police will get to the bottom of it."

She didn't seem convinced.

"I guess this means we won't get to go dancing for a little while," I said to her.

At least that brought a smile. "No ... but when you're better we will," she promised.

"The children will want to visit you, Aaron," Meg said.

"I'd love to see them. That would be good medicine all by itself. Just like having you two here today. It's a great motivator to get well. That ... and hospital food."

"Maybe I'll smuggle in something for you," Meg suggested.

"Mother! You'll get us in trouble and then we'll be barred from visiting." She sounded half serious.

"Oh ... can't have that," I said. "I'd rather suffer the food than not have you two lovely ladies come and visit."

I saw a sarcastic smirk on Meg's face, but Yolanda was smiling.

"Deanna has been very upset that you were hurt. She's very worried that you're not going to live. I've been trying to reassure her, but I think if she saw you, she'd know you'll get better," Yolanda said.

"She's a sweetheart. You have done a very fine job raising those two youngsters." 

"I'll bring them with me this evening. We won't stay long, it's a school night."

"Thank you, Yolanda. I'm feeling better just knowing you and your family are here. It's good for the spirit."

That afternoon, I had a couple more visitors. Johnny Gordon showed up just after lunch time, and we shot the shit about what was going on at the office. It seemed that the girls had rallied to my support, and everything was in hand. I didn't know whether that was good news or bad. Maybe they didn't need me after all.

My boss, Doug Howell, dropped in just after five that afternoon. Again, he was concerned about my future health, but I think I put his mind at ease. It might take a bit of time, but I was going to be okay, according to my doctor. We talked about the attack and what might have caused it, but neither of us could come up with a working theory on that. 

I was having trouble getting comfortable. True to his word, Doctor Davis had been gradually weaning me off the pain medication. Unfortunately, the discomfort level was going up in direct proportion to the reduction in "Joy Juice." It was my ribs that were the worst, naturally. Every time I tried to move, I was reminded of their damaged state. And I wasn't anxious to take any deep breaths.

To compound it, my back hurt like hell, a consequence of the damaged kidneys, my doctor announced. I had a ways to go before I was going to be able to look after myself. Fortunately, this was only day three, so I shouldn't be in too much of a rush. 

As a consolation for my limited activity, my room came with a TV and a remote control. I discovered quickly that daytime TV was truly Newton Minnow's "Vast Wasteland." What was true nearly fifty years ago was no less true today. I became a "news junkie."

It was just after seven that evening that Yolanda led Deanna and Kirk into my room. Deanna had tears streaming down her face, and she broke away from her mother to rush to my bedside. She grabbed my arm and buried her face in it, thankfully not putting any pressure on my ribs.

"Mommy said a bad man hurt you. I was scared. You aren't going to die, are you?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm not going to die. I'm going to get better so I can come and visit you. Then we can go out when you ride your bike in the park, and we can go to the zoo."

Kirk was looking at me with a strange face that I couldn't decipher.

"Hi, Kirk. How are you?" I guess my voice sounded a bit week. I deliberately didn't try to talk normally because it hurt. Damn near everything hurt.

He strode over to my side next to Deanna. "Did you beat that guy up, Mr. Prentice?"

"No, darn it. I didn't get a chance. He got me from behind when I wasn't looking."

"That's not fair," he said with fervor. "That wasn't a fair fight."

"You're right, Kirk. It wasn't fair, but the police are out looking for him. If they catch him, they are going to arrest him."

"Will they put him in jail?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Yup. For sure! Then he'll be sorry," I said in a half grin.

"Mr. Prentice, can I tell you a secret?" Deanna asked.

"Of course. I'm good at keeping secrets."

She leaned into me and whispered in my ear. "My daddy used to call me DeDe. You can call me that if you want." The tears had ceased, but the tracks were still visible on her angelic cheeks. 

"Thank you, Deanna. But if I call you that, won't everyone know our secret?"

She looked around the room and turned back to me. "It's okay. Mommy knows about it."

"All right then ... DeDe it is."

I got a thousand watt smile for that, and I gently squeezed her hand in thanks. She couldn't possibly know how much she lifted my spirits just being there. I looked up at Yolanda, and she had a smile a mile wide as she listened to us. I had the feeling she was as energized with this visit as I was. 

"So DeDe, what's Kirk's special name?" I asked, not wanting to leave him out of the conversation. He had been listening, but not saying much.

"Daddy called him Captain Kirk. He was too little to know much about it. Daddy said it was the name of a guy on TV."

"Oh yeah ... I think I know who he meant. Captain Kirk was a very brave man who commanded a star ship in outer space."

Kirk beamed with pride. 

"What about Mommy? What was her secret name?" I asked, knowing I might be on dangerous territory.

"It's a funny name. Daddy called her Yoyo. Isn't that funny?"

I caught a glimpse of Yolanda, and she was flushed pink with that revelation. I, on the other hand, had something confusing my thought patterns. I quickly lost track of our talk. Something had been said that triggered a memory -- a memory from that Friday night. I fought to catch up to the conversation.

"Are you going to be in here a long time, Mr. Prentice?" Deanna asked.

"I don't think so. Maybe two more weeks before I can go home. I don't know for sure."

"How long is two weeks?" Kirk asked.

"Two more Sundays," I replied. "Not very long."

"Children, that's enough for now. You're tiring Mr. Prentice out. Why don't you wait in the hallway for me? I'll be right out in a minute," Yolanda said. 

"Bye Mr. Prentice," they said in unison. I said my good-bye and watched as they trooped out into the hallway.

"God, those kids are something. You don't know how much better I feel having you and them around."

Yolanda moved over to the bedside. "I hope you're going to get better soon, Aaron. Mother and I have already made arrangements to look after you when you're released."

"You have? What kind of arrangements?"

"You'll be staying at Mother's until you're completely mobile again."

"I can't let you and your mother do that. That's far too much of an imposition," I stated fairly emphatically.

"Aaron ... it's payback time," she grinned. "For all those things you did for us that we didn't ask for, now we can do something for you that you didn't ask for. Understood?"

Trapped in my own plot. I tried to laugh, but it hurt so much that it took the humor out of the situation immediately. "All right. I know when I'm beat. But at least I didn't do what I did for you when you were in a weakened condition."

"I'm not so sure about that ... but we'll go into that later." She was smiling again, and then leaned down and kissed me. That feather-light, sweet, soft kiss that I remembered from our parting on her front steps. 

"See you tomorrow," she said as she walked out the door to the hallway. The only part she missed was the "Call me." I was living that dream all over again.

The night nurse arrived an hour later and I remembered what I wanted to ask her.

"Nurse, there's a card from a police detective on the little table. Would you please take it and call him and let him know I might have a bit more information about my attack?"

She agreed and I thanked her.

Meg was my only visitor on Tuesday morning. Yolanda had a job to finish by deadline, so she wouldn't be by until this evening.

"I understand I'm going to be your house guest when they let me out of here."

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it. I haven't had a man in the house since Philip died over ten years ago."

"I still think I'm imposing on you, Meg. You hardly know me and you're opening your house to me."

"Oh, I think I know you well enough, Aaron. If my daughter had room, you'd be staying there, you know."

"I would?" That caught me by surprise.

"Oh, come now, Aaron. Surely you've noticed that all that effort you put into wooing her has paid off," she smirked.

"Meg ... I ... I didn't put any effort into wooing Yolanda. I mean, it was never my intention to pursue her. Everything seems to have happened by accident." I wasn't convinced that Meg believed me. 

"Aaron, I'm sure you believe that, but let me assure you, it was an amazingly successful campaign. It was so subtle that I don't think Yolanda even noticed you were seducing her."

"Dammit, Meg!" I snapped, immediately regretting it as once again my ribs gave evidence of their damaged condition. I closed my eyes and willed the pain to lessen. It took some time, but eventually I could open them and try again to reason with this stubborn woman.

"Meg ... I think Yolanda is a wonderfully brave, attractive young woman. I admit, I want to date her. But it didn't start out that way. She needed help ... that's all there was to it. I never set out to seduce her, as you put it."




Replacement Therapy Ch. 03



"Oh don't get all huffy about it, Aaron. I know your intentions were honorable. Or, at least I think they were," she grinned. "Just the same, you brought my daughter out of a two year long funk after the death of Ryan. She's alive again. This old girl can't tell you how grateful I am for what you've done. I was really worried about her and the future. I'm hoping that maybe ... just maybe, she's going to be all right."

I could see the sincerity of her beliefs. In truth, I didn't feel guilty at all about my behavior toward her daughter. I had been slow and careful with my approaches to helping her. It had only been recently that Meg had stirred the pot and virtually forced me to ask Yolanda for a date. Otherwise, I might be lying here without having held her in my arms, or having been kissed by her.

Meg and I chatted a while longer. I told her about my two boys and my frustration at my inability to see them. She sympathized, but like me, didn't have any unique ideas about how to overcome the obstacles my ex-wife had put in place.

I slept a bit better that night. Not that I wasn't in some discomfort, but the combination of a pill the nurse had provided, and my peace of mind, helped me make it through the night. 

Wednesday, I had a visit from Detective Lofthouse. He had received my message and came by to see what I could add to the puzzle.

"I understand you may have remembered something else about the attack," he said, pulling his notepad out of his inner suit pocket.

"Maybe. It's just a fragment, but it might mean something. I remember my attacker saying something about yoyo. I don't remember the context, but I remember the word. It seemed like a strange word at the time."

"Yeah. It would be strange, I suppose."

"The reason that clicked is because I discovered that Yolanda Michaels' late husband had that as a nickname for her. Yoyo. I was wondering if there was a connection."

Lofthouse sat back in the chair, thinking about my comment. "Well, it isn't a common word. It might be a coincidence ... but then ... I don't believe in coincidences. Yoyo, eh? Let me think on it a bit."

I saw Yolanda and the children every day. I looked forward to their visit as the highlight of each dreary day. The weather had been wonderful as it almost always was in April. It would be hot in summer, but right now it was perfect, and I was missing it. 

It was two weeks and five days in total before they let me out. I was to take it very easy, with nothing more strenuous than a short walk, similar to the tentative ones I had been taking around the hospital ward. 

Under no circumstances was I to return to work for at least two more weeks. The ugly bruising of my chest remained, but it had stopped changing color. Now it was a dark, blotchy mess across my ribcage and around my back. My head was finally clear, and I was free of headaches. I was on the road to recovery.

Meg picked me up at the hospital and drove me to her house. It was a beautiful, classic, older home with a wonderful covered veranda running all the way across the front and partway down each side of the two-story structure. There was a wicker rocker on the porch by the front door that I would try and commandeer during my stay. The house looked far too large for just one person, but it also looked like the perfect place for me to rehab.

Meg was a wonderful cook, and I think my being there prompted her to pull out all the stops and impress me. If I had lost some weight in hospital, I was quickly going to gain it all back staying here. There weren't any hills in her neighborhood, so my walks would be on level city sidewalks. I didn't get very far at first, but within a few days, I was going around the block on my own. That felt like a major achievement at first. The things we take for granted, I thought.

I was pretty sure I'd figured Meg out by now. She was convinced I was future son material, and a suitable father for the children. She was dedicated to propelling the process along. My mind was uncertain on the matter. Maybe it was too early ... too soon. Yolanda and I hardly knew each other. Our only personal contact had been a dinner-dance date and the one-a-day vitamin of her kiss. Not much of a foundation.

I learned that Meg's house had been in her parents' family for almost one hundred years, and had been designated a heritage site. It was one of the reasons that she still lived there alone. She knew it was too large for her, and it was becoming a chore to keep up. We talked a lot about what the options were. She could sell it, but that would be heartbreaking in a way. It was her only link with her past. On the other hand, only a certain type of buyer would want to purchase a "designated" home and its restrictions.

There are things that women know that men can almost never learn. Some times it's what we think of as women's intuition, and other times it's just plain old common sense. Meg apparently had "borrowed" my keys from the hospital security office and cleaned out my refrigerator. I would never have thought of that, but she did. She suggested if it hadn't been done, I'd be buying a new refrigerator when I tried to move back in. She went about her business like it was no big deal.

She also brought my car over to her house. It was parked in the unused half of her garage. To tell the truth, I wasn't in any hurry to move back to my apartment. I knew I was going to have to, but it was depressing to think that I would be on my own again after having both Meg and the Michaels family around me regularly.

"Aaron ... I want to talk to you about something," Meg said the Friday before I was scheduled to return to work.

I thought this might be something relating to Yolanda, but I was wrong.

"We've talked about this house in past couple of weeks. You know how much I love it, but you also know it's becoming a burden. I get the feeling that you like this place just as much as I do. What if you moved in here permanently?"

I wasn't ready for that. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. She was right, of course. I loved that old house. I also knew it was a struggle for Meg to keep it clean and in good condition. It was typical of most old houses. They required a good deal more maintenance than new houses did. I was already performing little tasks that weren't too strenuous.

"Getting up and down these stairs several times a day is getting to be a chore. I did a little investigating down at the county office, and I have an idea that might work for both of us."

She had my undivided attention.

"Come with me," she ordered as she walked through the kitchen, down the hall and into what at one time had been the "wood room." 

"I think we could expand this room into a bedroom with an ensuite. It would have an exit to the hallway and the kitchen, and an outdoor exit onto the end of the veranda. Naturally, I'd have to get an architect to design it so the county would approve it for staying within the heritage designation, but I'm told that's possible."

"Meg ... you've got four bedrooms upstairs. What the heck are you going to do with a five bedroom house with three bathrooms?"

She gave me the damndest look. "Use your imagination, boy." End of conversation.

We walked back into the kitchen, my thoughts scuttling around in my head.

"It would be expensive, Meg. These kinds of projects always are," I warned

"Son, I can raise a half-million dollars on this house a quick as snapping my fingers. It's mine, free and clear. Most estimates say it could sell for something over a million in a good market. Even here in Yuba City. I've got almost two acres of property, and that's rare this close in. It'd be a good investment for me ... or my family."

There were times when Meg could be sneaky, but this wasn't one of them. This was as transparent as they come.

"I'm afraid that million dollar homes are a little out of my budget, as much as I love this place," I said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I know that. I've seen the apartment you live in. You can do better than that. If you expect to get married and have your boys with you some time, you're going to need something more suitable. This would be the ideal place. It comes with a built-in housekeeper," she grinned. "All you would be doing is buying a piece of this," she said, waving her arms around the stately old house.

"Meg, you can't sell a part of a house."

"I sure as hell can. It'll be my name on the deed, but you'll have paper that says you get a share of anything coming from a sale. Of course, if you were to marry Yolanda, you'd get it all, sooner or later," she smirked.

I was shaking my head. She had it all worked out. I had to admit, living in this house would be great. I was handy enough that I could keep up with the maintenance, and with all those tools that Yolanda had in her basement, I could have a fully equipped workshop in the outbuilding behind the garage. "Meg, I think we're getting ahead of ourselves. What about a compromise? I'll pay you room and board until Yolanda and I decide if we have a future together. If we do, then we can work out something equitable between us. If not, then I'll be on my way, no hard feelings and no strings attached."

She gave me a long, hard look. "All right. Five hundred a month and all you can eat."

"That's ridiculous, Meg. It should be twice that much." She was still manipulating the situation to make it irresistible. She shouldn't have bothered. I was already sold on the idea.

"It's my house and I decide how much is proper. Five hundred and that's my final offer!" she harrumphed. 

I couldn't help laughing. It was reverse bargaining. How come I could never get this to happen when I went to buy a car?

"Okay, Meg. You win ... I surrender. When can I move in?"

"This afternoon if you want. It's not like I've got any other tenants to evict," she chortled.

"I'm going to have to get some help to move. I'm not supposed to lift anything right now."

"I know that," she said with disgust. "There's a pair of healthy young lads a couple of doors down that are always looking for odd jobs. They have a truck, too. I'll give them a call."

The two boys were happy to take the job on Saturday. That would give me enough time to have my small items and perishables packed. The fridge, stove, washer, and dryer stayed with the condo. I called a real estate agent, and had the property appraised and listed. I was amazed at how much it had appreciated in the two-plus years I had owned it. Any sale would bring me something close to another hundred thousand dollars clear! My investment in rehabilitating it was well worth it.

Where were Yolanda and the children while all this was going on, you ask? Well, they were visiting us at Meg's house almost every afternoon or evening, often staying for supper with us. It was amazing how easily we fit together, and when I think back on it, I wonder if Yolanda didn't have something to do with Meg inviting me to stay at the house. The weekend I moved in, Yolanda came with me to the apartment to make sure I didn't miss anything, or so she said.

I wasn't going to miss the apartment-condo. It was a solitary place, with no fond memories to keep me there. I think that was a big factor in my taking Meg up on her offer. First, I liked the woman. She was lively and interesting. We made good companions while I was getting healthy again. Secondly, it was a lovely home. It looked and felt like a family home. I found myself imagining what it would be like if Yolanda and the children were there as well.

I had chosen a bedroom at the far south end of the upstairs at the front of the house, overlooking the driveway and front yard. There was a huge tree shielding me from the sun in the afternoon, but otherwise, it was open to a view in the east. Meg's bedroom was at the opposite end of the house, facing north. Luckily, the old house had been updated with a heat pump to look after the hot summer weather.

The three bedrooms were empty of furniture. Meg said that what was there was dated and she had given it away. I reminded her that I had three bedroom sets, two in storage. The two had been the boys' and were relatively new and in good condition. She agreed to let me place them in the empty rooms.

I took the boys' beds out of storage, but ended up with my sofa, chairs and kitchen set replacing them. I was going to have to deal with all the surplus sooner or later. Perhaps when things were a little more settled in my life. 

The two bathrooms were on the upper floor, one at each end of the hall. That would work quite nicely for both of us. I wondered why there hadn't been a bathroom on the main floor, but Meg couldn't remember. Yolanda said I needed the exercise. The kids didn't know what in the world we were talking about.

Deanna now insisted I call her DeDe, so I agreed without a fuss. She would sit with me on the sofa after supper and tell me about her friends and what she did in school that day. More than once she said she wished she could live in Meg's house with us all together. I saw Yolanda blush at the suggestion, but she said nothing. After all, it was just a kid's wish.

Kirk would spend hours building various things with his Lego pieces. He would present them to me, usually describing them as a space ship of one kind or another. After all, he was Captain Kirk, and it was his job to keep the place free of Klingons.

Yolanda and I always found time to talk. I felt I was getting much closer to her, and I also sensed that she had dropped her defenses from our earlier encounters. We had decided that we would go out for dinner and dancing to celebrate my first week back at work. Saturday night was chosen and of course, Meg agreed to look after the children. They would sleep over at Grandma's house. The two new beds gave them each their own room, and they were excited by that.

My first week back at work felt odd. I had been away for so long that I had forgotten how dependent upon routine I had been. Now, it was like learning the job all over again. It was a small challenge, just an adjustment really, but by the end of the week, I was exhausted. That was a surprise, but I suppose the mental pressure was as great as the physical.

I called Detective Lofthouse to see if there were any developments on my case, and to let him know where I was living. His only comment was "nice district, you're moving up in the world." He said he was working on some leads, but was unwilling to say any more at that time. 

Saturday night was busy at the Carousel. They had a different band and it featured a woman singer who patterned her style after Julie London. She was terrific, and Yolanda and I spent most of the night listening to her between dances. I tired a bit more easily than I was used to, but I was getting better. What kept me alert was Yolanda plastering herself onto me when we moved around the dance floor and sitting closely beside me at the table. We were touching often. This was a huge change in her behavior.

"I know a place we can go and be alone," she said, whispering in my ear.

"Are you sure? I might be a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"I've got you in a weakened condition. A quick poke in the ribs would render you harmless." She was grinning as she made this threat.

"Okay then. Where do you want to go?"

"Along the Feather River. There's a place I used to go when I was a teenager."

"Oh really. A make-out place I'll bet."

"Don't you want to make out with me?" she asked with feigned disappointment.

I looked her straight in the eye. "More than anything." I wasn't kidding.

It was ten minutes north of the Carousel, but it was a nice, secluded spot along the banks of the river.

"Did you come here often?"

"None of your business," she said coyly. "But ... I haven't been here in fifteen years ... at least."

"Well, that makes it special then. I'm flattered that you would choose me to reveal your secret past." I felt the last of the barriers had fallen and I could be more like myself without worrying about how Yolanda would react.

She turned toward me, her expression serious. "Don't make fun of it, Aaron. It took me all night to get up the courage to ask you to bring me here."

"Sorry. I wasn't making fun of you. I respect you too much to do that."

"I know. But ... you're treating me like I'm the fragile one ... not you."

"True. I have been careful. Maybe too cautious. You have me wondering what I should do ... and just as worried about what I shouldn't do."

"What you should do is kiss me," she said, slipping over to my side. I turned carefully toward her and she clasped my face in her hands and we kissed. A long, soft, deep, kiss.

We didn't say anything when the kiss ended. We were just looking at each other. For my part, I was wondering where this was heading. I didn't have a clue what Yolanda was thinking. I pulled her to me and we kissed again.

"I was a bit wild when I was a teenager. I lost my virginity not far from here," she confessed. 

"Was that to your husband?"

"No ... he came much later," she blushed. "I was testing out several prospective boyfriends. I had some growing up to do."

"Well, from what I can see, you've turned into quite the woman, not to mention mother."

"You keep flattering me and I don't deserve it. When Ryan died, I had to prove to myself that I could make it on my own. I know my mother wanted to help, but I had something to prove. Then you came along and changed everything."

"I did?"

"Of course you did. You decided you were going to be my white knight. I didn't ask for one, and I didn't think I wanted one, but that didn't stop you. You just kept charging at me. You even used my children against me, you sneak." Even in the dark I could tell she wasn't really angry with me. I was getting the past six weeks' synopsis of our tentative relationship. 

"Yes ... you fought like a tiger," I kidded, then leaned over and kissed her again. Somehow, the lean didn't invoke as much pain and discomfort as it had recently.

"So ... where do we go from here?"

"Well, if you were in better shape physically, I'd get you to take me back to my house and I'd screw you into submission," she said. "I haven't been with anyone for over three years, and when I'm around you, I get horny as hell."

"Maybe, if you took it easy at first, we could try," I suggested.

"Oh no! I've waited this long and I'm not settling for a half-a-loaf. I want you, Aaron. I have for a while now. It just took me some time to admit it to myself. But I want all of you!"

"Damn, Yolanda, it's going to be hell waiting to get better, but you've sure given me an incentive."

We spent the next hour kissing and generally acting like hormonal teenagers. I was excited at the prospect of making love to Yolanda, but even more aroused that she was just as anxious to be with me. 

To be continued...

Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.



Replacement Therapy Ch. 04



Chapter 4: The Haunted and the Hunted

By the beginning of June, I was pronounced fit by my doctor. I wasn't actually. I had been so careful not to overdo anything, that my real fitness was sadly lacking. But Yolanda had a plan, and when Yolanda wanted me to follow her plan, I had no intention of denying her.

We started off with aggressive walks in the morning and after supper. They were an hour long and with the warm weather now bordering on hot some days, I was really feeling the stress of these workouts. She would drop the children off at school and head directly to Meg's to meet me. In the evening, the three of them were almost constant supper guests, but I never heard a single complaint from anyone, least of all me.

We would finish our walks, bathed in sweat, stopping in the shade of the giant sycamore tree in the front yard to catch our breath and begin the cool-down process. We didn't talk much on these walks, mostly because I was too busy just breathing and trying to keep up with Yolanda. She was in much better shape than I was ... in more ways than one. 

She would taunt me with a pair of tight, nylon track shorts and a lightweight tank top barely covering a sports bra. I kidded her once about her attire and she quickly stated that it was part of my "incentive program." I couldn't argue with that. In any event, by the end of June, I was in much better condition, proven during our private moments. I had gained back most of my lost weight, and the remainder wasn't needed in the first place.

The first time we made love was something I will never forget as long as I live. She had sprung it on me as a surprise, bundling me into her truck one afternoon and driving me to her home. Our foreplay was non-existent. She stripped and then helped me without a word having passed between us. 

I was so caught up in the moment that I was completely unprepared for her aggressive behavior. I didn't expect to last very long that first time, and I was right. But that didn't faze Yolanda. I hadn't had a woman perform oral sex on me in almost twenty years, but she rectified that with what I can only describe as the most sensual arousal any woman could generate.

I was painfully hard that first time, but no less hard when we began the second joining. I had calmed down and was paying attention to her responses as we moved in perfect harmony. She was on top, sometimes propped up on her elbows, and other times lying on my chest. We were kissing and fondling and doing all the things that lovers do when they are lost in the moment. 

I had no idea that she had arranged with her mother to pick the children up after school and take them to her house. I was keeping an eye on the bedroom clock until Yolanda noticed and told me to stop worrying. The two of them had conspired to give us the whole afternoon and evening if necessary. It was beginning to look like we would need it.

We loved, and kissed, and talked, and loved again, and lazily spent the entire afternoon in each others' arms. It had been worth the wait. She was everything and more that I had hoped for. 

"I'm going to break my promise now," she said softly as we lay on our sides, facing each other."

"Which promise is that?"

"The one about not talking about your ex-wife and my husband."

"I remember. Why do you want to break it?"

"Because ... I can't resist telling you how much better a lover you are than he was. I know that's not fair ... he isn't here to defend himself, but you are so different, so much more ... passionate ... and loving. I can't help telling you how happy I am with you. You made this so good. I had hopes ... but this is better than my hopes."

"I feel the same way. I don't know what I expected, but ... like you ... this was far better. I think we communicate very well. Not just sexually, but emotionally. I'm really glad I insisted on getting to know you. I don't know what drove me to do that, but I wasn't going to go away unless it was hopeless."

"Now that I've got you back in shape, I'm going to give you a glimpse of my other personality ... the one I told you about that night out by the river. Remember? The 'wild child'?"

"Not today, please. I want to keep this day separate in my memory. This was all about anticipation, and finding out how we would be together. We'll have plenty of time to discover our other personalities. This time is special."

She smiled. "All right. I think you're right. This was special. Just the same, do you think you're good for one more?"

"With a little help from my friend," I whispered, stroking her face with my fingertips.

It was almost seven that evening when we got back to Meg's house. I think anyone who saw us would have known exactly what we had been doing that afternoon. Certainly Meg did. She was all smiles and hugs for us both. The children didn't notice anything, of course. They were too caught up in their own world to notice something as subtle as our behavior. 

If it was a conspiracy between mother and daughter, I wasn't going to resist. Meg had proven that she only wanted the best for Yolanda and the children, and she had come to believe that I was the right man for them. I agreed wholeheartedly.

Two days later, I got an unexpected phone call at work. It was Detective Lofthouse, and he wanted to meet with both Yolanda and me. He said he had some information and needed our input. We arranged to have him come to Yolanda's home on Thursday afternoon at four o'clock.

"Do either of you know a man named Lucas or Luke Hightower?" he began after we'd gotten the preliminaries out of the way.

Both of us shook our heads. 

"He is ... or was ... in your husband's platoon. He was a PFC under Sgt. Michaels' command. Does that help, Mrs. Michaels?"

"No ... not really. My husband seldom mentioned any of the men in his platoon by name. I don't recall anyone named Luke."

"Well ... let me tell you what I've learned. PFC Hightower was assigned to your husband's platoon almost as soon as he arrived in Kabul. He is a big man; six-foot-four, two hundred-and-forty pounds of what was described by one of his mates as 'solid granite.' He loved the Marine Corps, and he virtually worshipped your husband. Apparently, he had saved Hightower from a sniper early on, and Hightower dedicated himself to keeping Sgt. Michaels safe. 

"Hightower wasn't the smartest man. In fact, his I.Q. was marginal for the Corps, but at the time the forces were so desperate for live bodies that he skimmed by. On top of that, after your husband was killed, he went a bit goofy, or so his platoon mates claimed. When his rotation was up, he re-upped for another two years. Again, the Corps was reluctant to keep him, but somehow or other, he slipped through once again.

"Now we get to the interesting part. About nine months ago, he went off the deep end during a firefight. He just went nuts, killing everything in sight, including a couple of civilians. After they got him under control, he was sent to Germany for a psychiatric examination. The results led them to confine him to a psych ward for six months until he was shipped home.

"In the infinite wisdom of the military, they decided that now that he was back in the good old U.S. of A., they could let him go. He wasn't their problem any more. My boss pulled a lot of strings and called in a lot of favors to get this information. Hightower had said a number of times that he had failed Sergeant Michaels, and that his mission was now to protect the sergeant's family. I guess no one put any credibility on his statements, so no one warned you or us to keep an eye out for him.

"I think it was Luke Hightower who beat you up, Mr. Prentice. I think he was under the misguided belief that he was protecting Mrs. Michaels. What I don't know is where he is now."

I looked at Yolanda, and she was as white as a sheet. "You mean he might come after Aaron again," she asked, wide-eyed.

"It's possible. In his mind, if he thinks Mr. Prentice is a threat to you, I'm guessing he will act."

That was something I didn't want to hear. Another two months in pain, or worse? What the hell could be done to stop this guy?

Detective Lofthouse pulled a photograph from a manila envelope. It was a picture of blonde-haired young man with a brush cut, square jaw, and penetrating blue eyes. He was dressed in desert battle fatigues. Just looking at the picture you could get a sense of his size and strength.

"We have an all points bulletin out on him. Last we know, he was driving a desert-sand-colored 1983 Chevy pickup with a crudely drawn version of the Marine Corp insignia on the doors. He should be easy to spot if he's still using that truck. Also, he was still wearing his desert uniform, so once again, he isn't exactly hiding from us.

"All I can tell you, Mr. Prentice, is to be careful. We're watching Mrs. Michael's house and Mrs. McCarty's as well. We don't know what to expect from him, but just be on your guard, sir."

I nodded. What else could they do? I had to admit I was a bit frightened. I was no match physically for this guy. On top of that, he had training in hand-to-hand combat. If he wanted me dead, there wasn't much I could do about it. I didn't own a gun, and didn't want one. All I could do was hope I could avoid him until the police caught up to him.

I had some decisions to make and my only priority was to protect Yolanda, the children, and Meg. I think I was the target, but I couldn't safely make that assumption and be confident the others would be okay. As I drove back to Meg's, I knew what I had to do.

By the time I arrived, Yolanda had quietly filled Meg in on what Detective Lofthouse had revealed. She was appalled at the danger this man presented, and just as worried about her family as I was. 

Meg embraced me as I stepped into the front room. "Oh, Aaron, I'm so worried about you. I can't believe that man could think you would harm Yolanda ... or anyone."

"He doesn't know me, Meg. He doesn't know anything except what's rolling around in his confused mind. He's sure he's doing the right thing to protect your family. He just has a different idea of what protection is. I suppose this is just another manifestation of PTSD. He's got a single idea in his head, and that's all he recognizes."

"I don't care. We can't let him hurt you again," Yolanda cried.

"I'm going to look after that, right now. I'm going to move out and live elsewhere until this guy is caught. I'm sorry, dear, but you and you mother and the children are going to have do without me for a while. I can't allow you to be put in danger."

"But he's not after us, Aaron."

"I can't take the risk of you being around me if he attacks. It's just too dangerous. According to the detective, he's not trying to hide. They should be able to find him. I'm just going to have to wait it out until they do. It's the last thing I want to do ... leaving you ... any of you. But it's for your own protection."

They tried to talk me out of it, but Meg, and I think Yolanda, knew it was the safest thing for them. They had to think of the children first. They would be told I was going on a trip, but I would be back. Some tears were shed, but by nine o'clock that evening I had packed a bag, kissed everyone goodbye, and driven off in my car.

I felt like a fighter pilot every time I drove anywhere. I was constantly looking around for suspicious people and beige pickup trucks. I had found a reasonably inexpensive, clean motel out on Levee Road, south of the airport. I checked in and called Meg and Yolanda to let them know where I was. I would be working at the box plant during the weekday, but living at the motel for the foreseeable future.

My paranoia began to dissipate after a few days. There was no sign of Hightower, and with all the police out looking for what should be a very conspicuous vehicle, I began to think he may have given up his quest. Sgt. Lofthouse assured me that his department was keeping a close lookout at both residences, but so far, no sign of the truck or the suspect.

The weekends were the worst. I could distract myself during the week, catching up on work and keeping myself busy with projects at the office, even if they didn't need doing. But the weekends ... unable to be with Yolanda or the children, were frustratingly long. I would stop to watch a baseball game, but without the company of my adopted family, it wasn't the same.

By the end of the second week, I was in despair that it would be a long time before I could see Yolanda, the children, or Meg, much less return to the stately home in town. I talked to them all each evening, but it lacked the physical contact I craved. I might as well have been in Chicago. So close, and yet, so far.

On Sunday afternoon, I decided to go for a drive in the country. I started out down Levee Road south in the direction of Rio Oso. The road followed the Feather River as it meandered though the rice fields, walnut groves and other agricultural properties. It was incredible just how much was grown in the central part of California.

I didn't encounter very much traffic, but at one point I did notice a truck following me. It was dark green, but not like the metallic green of my Taurus station wagon. More like a dull, olive drab. As it drew closer, I could see the bowtie badge indicating an older model Chevrolet. The dots didn't connect immediately, but as it got closer and closer to my back bumper, I suddenly realized what it might be.

I hadn't been down Levee Road in a long time and I had forgotten the sharp right-angled turn just where the river itself took an equally sharp right-angled turn in the opposite direction. As I approached the bend, my concentration was on making the turn and not on what was going on behind me. Halfway through the turn I felt the impact as I was hit and pushed sideways toward the river bank. 

There was nothing I could do to stop the momentum of my wagon from hitting the opposite shoulder. I could feel the roll beginning, almost in slow motion, as the tires dug into the soft gravel. At some point the airbags deployed, smacking me in the face. Luckily, my seat belts held me in place as the car slowly tumbled toward the river.

My driver's side-window was down, and that turned out to be my life-saver. The rolling stopped and it took me a moment to realize I was upside down in the river and the car was beginning to sink. Almost instinctively, I snapped the seatbelt catch and began the awkward process of wiggling myself out through the window opening and toward the light and the surface of the murky river. I broke the surface and sucked in a huge capture of air, looking around for the nearest shore. 

I was drifting downstream with the current, quickly realizing just how cold the water was, but more intensely concentrating on swimming to shore. I made the muddy bank, exhausted from my efforts, but incredibly exhilarated at having survived. I was gasping for breath, weak from the exertion, but slowly crawling my way up the bank toward the road. It seemed to take hours to get that far, but likely it was only a couple of minutes or so.

I lay on the side of the road until I was aware of a truck coming around the corner toward me. I rolled onto my side and tried to wave it down. Apparently, the driver must have seen my feeble effort, for I heard the squeal of brakes and the next thing I knew, a man was beside me, asking me questions.

In the era of the cell phone, we expect universal coverage. Such was not the case in that particular part of the county. The man, older than me, but obviously very strong, helped me into the cab of his truck and drove me to a nearby gas station. From there, he called the county sheriff's department and we waited for them to arrive.

The man's name was Tom Harper, and he was the owner of eighty acres of walnut trees in Rio Oso. He had been heading for Yuba City to pick up a new chain for his chain saw. He needed to cut up some dead trees and prepare them for sale. Apparently, gun manufacturers would bid on the wood for stock and grip material.

I thanked Mr. Harper profusely for stopping to help me, but didn't go into detail about what had happened. When the sheriff's deputy arrived, I asked him to contact Detective Lofthouse in Yuba City. I would explain in detail to him, preferable only once. The deputy was cooperative, and within an hour, I was on my way back to my motel and some dry clothes.

"So ... you're pretty sure it was Hightower that drove you off the road," Lofthouse asked again as we sat in my motel room after I had showered and changed. 

"The truck matches the description except for the color. My impression was that it was a cheap hand-brush job. Flat finish ... not professional at all. It was an older truck all right, and the pictures you showed me match the front end that I saw in my rear-view mirror. It should have a fairly large prang in it after hitting my car."

Lofthouse nodded, "Sounds like it's our guy. I'll get the word out to my people and the surrounding counties that he's now in a dark green truck with damage to the front end. I think we've got a better than even chance of finding him now."

I shook hands with the detective as he left my room. I wish I'd felt as confident as he did. I wondered how many more escapes I was going to be allowed before it was one too many. 

In the meantime, I had to replace my vehicle. It was still on the bottom of the Feather River, and I had to go to work the next day. I called the local rental car agency, and they picked me up and took me to their lot where I rented a non-descript sedan, hopefully invisible to my tormentor. 

When I called Yolanda, Meg, and the children, I didn't say a word about my afternoon adventure. They didn't need the additional stress, and I didn't think it would do them any good to know that Hightower was still around. As far as they knew, he was nowhere to be found.

My plan would have worked if it hadn't been for the newspaper and television news. Someone, probably at the sheriffs department, reported the incident to the local paper, and they dutifully copied down the details and published them in the Tuesday paper. In the meantime, some eagle-eyed person with a video camera recorded the recovery of my Taurus from the river. The children saw the car, and immediately informed their mother and grandmother that it looked just like Mr. Prentice's car. To add to my problems, my name was in the news story as the driver of the car. Happily, no mention was made of the second party forcing me off the road.

The first phone call came at ten past six that evening. "Why didn't you tell us about the accident? You could have been killed. Isn't it bad enough you have to stay away? Now you've almost been drowned."

"I'm sorry, Yolanda. I didn't want to upset you or Meg. You've got enough to worry about besides my careless driving."

"Are you sure that's what it was? Just an accident?"

"Yeah ... I was going too fast at that sharp right-hander on the Levee Road. I should have known better. I won't do that again."

She seemed to be buying my story, but it was another thing for her to worry about. Our romance wasn't starting off very well. God, what I wouldn't have given to have her here with me. I just couldn't take the chance. 

I gave the insurance company the police report and asked them to keep it confidential. The authorities didn't want anyone to know that they believed it to be a criminal act. They wanted to give Hightower a sense of confidence that he wasn't being sought. Amazingly, my claim was settled before the end of the week. At least I could spend some time this weekend looking for a new car.

Now I was really watching around me. I had changed motels, just on the off-chance that Hightower had spotted me at my original choice. I moved to the opposite end of town, the north-east. It wasn't an ideal location. It was a fair drive to work, not that any drive in Yuba City could compare to Sacramento or San Francisco.




Replacement Therapy Ch. 04



I had purchased another station wagon, this time a Pontiac Vibe. It was really a Toyota, but I didn't care. It fit my needs and didn't cost too much. The windows were tinted in the back, but California law prevented me from tinting the front side windows. I wanted as much protection as I could get, and not necessarily just from the sun.

Another week passed before once again, I got a call from Detective Lofthouse.

"Mind if I drop by and see you tonight?"

"No, not at all. I could use the company. You know I've moved, I take it?"

"Yeah. You let my people know. Probably was a good move, considering. Anyway, I'll see you about five-thirty. Maybe we can catch a beer and a burger together."

"Sure," I said instinctively. This was a change. Sounded more like a social call. I wonder what that meant.

There was a small restaurant across the road from my motel, and we adjourned to the bar when we walked in.

"Well, Aaron. I think your bad days are over. I'm waiting for an official identification, but it looks like Luke Hightower took his own life."

"Holy shit! What prompted that? He couldn't have been sane."

"No doubt about that. We might never know. He didn't leave a note. He'd been living in his truck up in Gridley. Looks like he got himself good and drunk, then set fire to it and barbequed himself."

"Aw Jesus. What a way to go. Poor bastard."

"Yeah ... that's what I'm thinking too. When you think of all the people that could have helped him and every stinkin' one of them let him down. I'm just glad he didn't add to his total over here. You had a couple of near-death experiences. That ought to last you for a while," he grinned.

"How about a lifetime," I snorted.

We had another beer, ordered a sandwich, shook hands, and called it 'case closed.' I for one was damn relieved. I pulled out my cell phone. It was just after seven.

"Hey, Meg. Is it too late to come home tonight?"

"Oh, Aaron. Is it over?"

"Yes ... it's over. At last. I'll be there in less than an hour."

It only took five minutes to pack my bag, and another five to check out of the motel. I was standing on Meg's front porch at ten before eight when I rang the old style bell. The familiar sound of little thunder as the two youngsters ran to the door was a real lift.

"Mom ... come see ... it's Mr. Prentice. He's back!" Kirk yelled. Deanne, now DeDe, had attached herself to my leg, rendering me immobile. 

Yolanda hurried right though the chaos and wrapped her arms around me, kissing me in another of her long, passionate embraces. She pulled her head back, and looked carefully at me.

"It's over?"

I nodded. "It's over."

"Oh, thank God." I could see the tears of relief, and looking up, the same in Meg's face as well. Kirk was jumping around in excitement, while DeDe just clung to me like a life preserver. It was good to be home.

For the first time, Yolanda and I slept together in a bed. My bed. We made love and it was perfect. I didn't need anything more than this. There were a few tears as she remembered just how close we came to losing all this. I wouldn't be telling her the truth about the river adventure. She didn't need to know.

It took a couple of days before things settled down. I was at work during the day, but Yolanda and I discussed our future in the evenings. I knew what I wanted. I quit worrying whether Yolanda wanted the same thing. I just acted. With Meg's help, we met at lunch on Thursday before proceeding to the jewelry store. I would choose, but Meg would advise. We were a good team.

Yolanda and I were on the front porch after supper on Friday night. It was time. I had the little box in my pocket and I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

"Yolanda, I love you. I love you more than anyone I could imagine loving. I love your family too. I am asking you ... will you marry me?" I took the box from my pocket, opened it and showed it to her.

"Oh ... Aaron ... I didn't expect ... I didn't know ...." She lapsed into silence, looking at the ring, then my face, then back at the ring. I was starting to worry. This wasn't the response I expected or hoped for.

"Aaron ... I love you. I really do. Are you sure that I'm the right person for you?"

That was the strangest question I could have imagined. The right person? 

"I can't think of anyone more 'right' than you. I don't even understand the question. Surely you must know how I feel? I meant what I said." 

I had the feeling I was sounding a bit complaining. I didn't want that. I was about to try and correct the impression, when she stepped to me and wrapped her arms around my neck and nearly crushed me in her embrace. 

When we broke, she looked at me with a slight smile ... no ... make that a smirk. "Are you sure you're ready for me, mister?"

It took me a minute to decipher just what was going on. My little "Miss Prim and Proper," the woman that I had so carefully wooed, was screwing with my head. I had to try and recapture the moment.

"Take the damn ring, woman, or I'll put you over my knee and pink your lovely ass in front of you mother and children. Understood?"

She burst out laughing, falling into my arms and carefully taking the ring from the box. It fit perfectly, just as her mother said it would.

"Okay ... you talked me into it. I'll marry you," she said between fits of laughter.

"That was the craziest marriage proposal acceptance I've ever heard of. Is this how you responded to your first husband?" I asked.

"None of your business," she snapped, raising an eyebrow. 

"Is there a female equivalent of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? What happened to the demure widow who got all upset when I tried to do her a favor? Who are you?"

"I'm your unpredictable fiancée. After what's happened to you in the last three months, don't you think we're entitled to be a little unpredictable?"

"Do you love me, Yolanda?" It was a serious question.

The smiles and laughter ended abruptly. She squeezed me tightly again. "More than anything. I'm alive again, thanks to you. You were the unpredictable one. You never did lose your white knight status, you know. I never guessed you'd be so brave or fearless in the face of danger."

"I wasn't fearless ... let me assure you of that. But ... I was going to do whatever necessary to protect you and your children and your mother. I never thought twice about that."

"I know. I didn't expect you to be a hero, but I wanted you to care. That's what stole my heart. If I go a little crazy now and then, it's because I know you'll look after me. You won't hurt me, and you won't leave me. I need you more than you know, Aaron. I've been lonely too long. I need you to take away the loneliness."

"I guess we're two of a kind. I've been lonely too. More than I understood. But the worst time of all was the last three weeks. Being in that motel room and not being able to be with you all. It was killing me. That's when I knew for certain that I couldn't live without you."

"That's what I wanted to hear. You couldn't live without us. We come as a package deal, you know."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. You know I love your children, and your mother. I couldn't be any luckier if I tried. Which reminds me ... I have another duty to perform."

"What?"

"Normally, I'd ask your mother for her approval ... but since she helped me pick out the ring and provided the right size, I'm guessing it isn't necessary. However, I'd like to talk to DeDe and Kirk. I want them to be okay with me replacing their father. I'm not really worried about it, but I want them to know their opinion is important."

"Aaron ... that's so like you. Do you want me there?"

"No ... this is something just between the three of us. I'll go get them now and talk to them out here. It won't take long," I smiled as she kissed me.

I collected up the two children, asking them if I could talk to them outside for a moment. They followed me immediately.

"Deanna ... I mean DeDe ... Kirk ... would it be okay with you guys if I asked your mom to marry me?"

DeDe's eyes went hugely round and her mouth was a perfect O. I could hear a big intake of breath. Kirk looked a bit pensive for a moment before he spoke.

"Does that mean you're going to be our new dad?"

"Well ... yes ... if it's okay with you," I said carefully.

Kirk reacted with a jumping "Yeah!" while DeDe grabbed me and held on, just as she had when I had arrived back from my exile. It was going to be just fine with them.

"Mom! Mom! Mr. Prentice is going to be my new dad!" Kirk yelled.

Yolanda was beaming with tears in her eyes, while Meg looked on happily. I had done the right thing.

A few minutes later, we were having a celebratory glass of wine in the living room when DeDe climbed up beside me on her knees, and looked at me with a serious stare.

"You love my mom, don't you?" It was more of a rhetorical question, but it deserved an answer.

"Yes ... I love your mother very much. But I also love you, and Kirk and Grandma Meg. You are all my family now. I'm pretty lucky, don't you think?"

DeDe nodded and the put her arms around my neck and kissed me. "I love you too," she said, then sat beside me, holding my hand. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, as the saying goes.

That night, Yolanda, Meg and I got down to some serious planning. First there was the wedding. It would be a small affair, but there were a number of people who must be invited. Meg volunteered to find the church and an appropriate reception hall. That was overruled when Yolanda said she wanted a garden wedding and reception right here. Naturally, Yolanda would make her own wedding gown, as well as the mother and daughter gowns.

There was also the matter of where we would live. Meg was adamant that the big house was the natural place for us, once the little addition was done. She had already signed off on the preliminaries with an architect and the plans were before the board of supervisors for approval. The original estimates for a two hundred square foot addition were in the neighborhood of one-hundred thousand dollars, over triple conventional building costs. 

What I learned about the family was surprising. First of all, Yolanda's modest life-style was self imposed. She claimed that she had to make it on her own without help. Meg stood helplessly by as her daughter refused financial assistance time after time. Our wedding would put a stop to that. I was well paid, and had a good size nest egg from the sale of our house and my condo apartment. That Meg was wealthy seldom entered our considerations.

Assuming Yolanda agreed to merge the family into the heritage house, we could sell her bungalow and more than pay for the addition to the wonderful old home. Yolanda could maintain her home business if she chose to, but wouldn't be worrying if it was going to provide for her family. She could do it for the satisfaction it brought her. 

We decided on a fall wedding. It wouldn't be as hot in early October as it was in summer. A late afternoon wedding would be perfect, and Meg was well on the way to having it organized. I was sure she intended to pay for it, but I was going to insist that I contribute as well. I know she could easily afford it, but that wasn't the point.

All the while, I had been keeping in touch with my sons, Terry and Matt. Our e-mails were a bit irregular in timing, but the boys kept me informed of their lives and just how happy (or unhappy) they were. I hadn't told them of my engagement yet. I'm not sure why, but I thought I'd hold back that information for a bit longer. Perhaps I was wondering just how they would take the news.

To be continued...

Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.



Replacement Therapy Ch. 05



Chapter 5: Back in the Fold

Our bedroom contained a bookcase which I had only perfunctorily examined when I first moved in. Yolanda and I were lying in bed one Sunday morning, talking about her family, or more precisely, Margaret McCarty's family. It seems they were some of the original founders of several of the towns in the area, after the gold rush of 1849. They came from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada down onto the fertile plains of the Central Valley. They farmed, they built stores and businesses, and they brought in settlers to build a new life.

Yolanda slipped out of the bed and went to the bookcase, pulling out an old, leather-bound volume. She opened it, and revealed a written history of Meg's family, all the way back to their emigration from Massachusetts. The original family name was Reardon, and it had carried on for generations until it almost petered out after WWII. 

Yolanda pulled a separate piece of paper out of the back cover of the book and opened it. It was the update of the Reardon family tree, showing Margaret Reardon's birth in 1952, marriage to Angus McCarty in 1974, and the death of Angus in 1999. There were two other Reardons still alive, according to the chart.

Seamus Reardon, born in 1933, and Donald Reardon, born in 1948.

"Seamus Reardon is retired and living in Arizona. He never married, as you can see from this chart. I think he might have been gay. The family never mentions him. But Donald is a state representative in Sacramento. He was a lawyer and a judge. There are rumors he's a candidate for a Congressional Senate seat when one comes available. He's a good Irish Democrat, and a good friend of Mother."

"Wow, your mother knows someone in power, then," I observed.

"That's not all she knows," Yolanda giggled. "Mother has a couple of powerful men friends that she visits now and then."

"Oh? Oh!"

"Don't look so shocked, Aaron. She's still alive and kicking. She's only fifty-seven."

"Of course ... I didn't mean to suggest she wasn't entitled to her own life. I just hope they treat her well."

"Oh, they treat her very well, from what I've heard," she giggled. "They can't afford not to."

"What's that mean?"

"Just that they are important men and don't need bad publicity. Mother represents the ideal escort. Mature, sexy in a more adult way, and very knowledgeable. She can hold a conversation with anyone."

"I don't doubt it for a second. I'm just surprised at her secret life, that's all."

"How do you think that addition to the house was approved so quickly? It helps to know the right people in the right places."

I was learning a great deal about the mother of my intended. It would appear that there was a lot more to her than met the eye. I wondered what other secrets this family held. For one thing, Yolanda was turning out to be quite unlike the woman I thought she was. It was confusing. I was hoping I hadn't misread her. At times she was radically different from the shy, quiet woman who would barely talk to strangers. I wondered what secrets she was still holding.

"Meg, can you spare me a few minutes. I'd like to talk to you ... in private."

She looked at me quizzically, wondering I suppose just what this was about. 

"Alright."

We walked into the now almost reframed wood room that would be her new suite. It was Sunday, and the workmen were off for the weekend.

"I've been mulling over how to approach this subject. I don't want you to over-react, so please be patient with me. It's about Yolanda. I think she's holding something back from me. Our wedding is only two months away, and I'm worried that I'm marrying the woman of my dreams without knowing something important about her. I need your help."

Meg looked at me as only she could -- clear-eyed and expressionless.

"What do you want to know?" she said in a low, calm tone.

"First of all, she seems to have two personalities. There's the reticent, nervous, quiet, housewife. A woman with a protective wall around her, unwilling to let anyone in. Then ... more recently, there's a more ... adventuresome, uninhibited, aggressive Yolanda. So completely different from the woman I thought I knew. Can you tell me what that is all about?"

Meg sat quietly, staring at me, her eyes not blinking, not wavering from her fix on me. 

"My daughter is a complex woman, Aaron," she said at last. "When she was young, she was a very free-spirited teenager. She loved to flaunt authority. My husband, Philip, indulged her. It was up to me to instill some discipline. In short, he was the good guy, I was the bad guy. I resented that role. It made it very difficult for Yolanda to show me affection."

I nodded. I could understand the conflict. "But it doesn't explain the behavior when I first met her."

"She married Ryan Michaels when she was twenty-three. She had been a bit of a ... reckless girl. Apparently many lovers, but none that kept her interest for long. Her reputation wasn't very good, if you know what I mean."

"I understand."

"Ryan was a big, tough, confident man. Maybe the first she had been involved with. He dominated her. He told her when they would go out, what she would wear, and when they would come home. She seemed to respond to that. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, a man was giving her orders and she was following them. Ryan, as it turned out, replaced her father.

"I have to admit, I thought Ryan was good for her. He seemed to put a stop to her wayward lifestyle. He virtually controlled her. As I understand it, he didn't ask Yolanda to marry him, he told her she would ... and when ... and where. She simply was expected to agree ... and she did."

I shook my head in disbelief. It seemed so bizarre that she would simply follow the forceful direction of a man. But then again, when I thought of who she was when I first met her, maybe the submissive role wasn't so far fetched after all. I looked up at Meg, and I could see the small smile acknowledging my confusion.

"When my two darling grandchildren were born, no one was happier than Yolanda, perhaps with the exception of me. She was a natural mother, and nothing that has happened in the past eight years had led me to think any differently. 

"When Ryan died, Yolanda changed, but not in the way I expected. It was as if she had suddenly grown up. One day she was an obedient wife, the next a responsible single mother. She refused any help from me. She was determined to forge a life for herself and her children. She never denied me access to them, or my help when it came to caring for them, but as far as running her household, that was her domain ... and hers alone."

I was transfixed at her story. Yet, I really hadn't figured out just what had brought about the changes in Yolanda. What was I missing?

"Aaron," Meg said softly, "Ryan was a tyrant. Yolanda would never admit it, but although he never hit her, he dominated her in so many ways that ... I think ... beat her down. He would never do that around me, perhaps because he sensed I wouldn't tolerate it, but ... I think he demoralized her. 

"When he died, Yolanda was set free, but there was no celebration. She was so used to being told what to do and when to do it, that it took an enormous shift in her personality to take over the running of her family. I think we are close now because she knows just how much I admire what she has accomplished. 

"Now, you've arrived on the scene. You, Mr. Prentice, are quite a different kettle of fish. You dominate her in a very subtle way. You carefully insist. You're a subversive, worming your way into her confidence. You lead her to the destination you want her to arrive at, then stand back and pretend it was all her idea. She doesn't know quite what to make of you, but ... she doesn't feel threatened or bullied."

I laughed, but it wasn't with humor. "You're making me out to be very Machiavellian, Meg. I can assure you, that was not how I approached your daughter. I admit, I was careful with her, but that was more about her reaction and behavior when I first met her, not about some plot to seduce her."

"I'm sure you believe that, Aaron. And don't be upset with my analysis. I'm not casting aspersions on your character. I think you're a delightful man, and an absolutely perfect husband for my daughter ... not to mention a great father for my grandchildren. Rest assured, I'm not unhappy with your becoming a son, I'm simply trying to draw a comparison between Ryan and you. You don't have to worry about Yolanda. She is deeply in love with you. That much a mother knows for certain."

"Well, that's a relief," I said in mock sincerity. I was a little irritated with this conversation, but when I gave myself a chance to think about it, I began to understand some of Yolanda's behavior.

"Do you think she'll revert to her pre-Ryan personality?"

"No. She's a different woman. The children have changed her. Her driving need to provide for herself and them has changed her. And now ... you've changed her. She won't go back to where she was. She's too happy where she is," Meg smiled.

I walked to Meg and embraced her. I couldn't have picked a better mother if I had tried. 

"Thanks, Meg. This has been a big help. I'm not sure I understand it all, but ... the one thing that you've said that means the most to me is how sure you are that she is in love with me. That's all that really matters."

"Yes ... you're right ... that's all that really matters," she smiled, and kissed my cheek.

The addition to the house was taking a long time, in my opinion. I'm sure the contractor thought that if a job was this expensive, stretching it out would permit some additional costs to be added. I approached Meg once more.

"Meg, these guys working on the new suite are spending your money and doing damn little. I'd like your permission to chew the ass out of their head honcho and get them moving. They seem to think this job is a license to print money."

Meg laughed -- a not unexpected reaction. "No ... no ... that's my job. Are you certain you're right?"

"Would you like a list of the games these guys have been playing?"

"Not necessary, but I would like you to accompany me when I confront Mr. Keezar about the situation."

"I'd love to," I grinned.

A few minutes later and we found Mr. Adolphus Keezar snacking on a rather large sticky bun.

"Mr. Keezar, I'm very disappointed that you think you can take advantage of a widow. I'm sure you don't realize that I'm aware of the half-hearted effort you and your men are putting into this job. I would be further disappointed if I found it necessary to discuss the matter with Judge Beltran. You don't need any more trouble from him, do you?"

Keezar nearly choked on his snack, turning red in the face before beginning to sputter a denial.

"But ... Mrs. McCarty ... we're doing the best we can," he finally pleaded.

"Bullshit!" I spat. You've been sitting on your ass and doing as little as possible, hoping to run up the bill. Here's the bottom line, pal. Get going and get going quickly, or Mrs. McCarty will have you replaced. That wouldn't be very good for you reputation, now, would it?"

"Thank you, Aaron. I couldn't have said it better myself." 

With that, the two of us strode back into the house and once out of earshot, had a good laugh.

"You put the fear of God into him, Aaron. Thank you. I hereby pronounce you to be site supervisor. I will instruct Mr. Keezar to report to you daily when you return from work. That way, he won't be able to sneak away at three o'clock like he has been. That was fun!" 

"We should have kicked his ass a little sooner. I'm sure he's two weeks behind where he should be by now. Maybe with a little incentive, we can get him caught up," I grinned.

"What kind of incentive?" 

"Oh ... I don't know ... maybe I'll suggest we should have Judge Beltran drop around now and then to make sure everything is on the up-and-up."

Meg roared with laughter. "That ought to do it. Adolphus spent a night in jail when he drove his truck into Judge Beltran's new Lincoln after spending too much time at the Cantina. The judge isn't his biggest fan."

"Well, I guessed it was something like that. He jumped when you mentioned the judge's name. That should be a pretty good motivator."

"Damn, Aaron, but aren't you going to make a great son," she said, giving me a big kiss.

Yolanda and I were sitting at the kitchen table trying to decide what to do about her house and the upcoming Fourth of July holiday. 

"Why don't you rent it out?" I suggested. "It would be an income source and you'd still benefit from the appreciation in the market. It might be ideal for a young family just starting out ... or even a retired couple. It isn't too big, but it is in good shape."

She nodded. "I guess I could do that. Do you think it would be a lot of hassle? You know ... worrying about damage or other problems with the tenants?"

"I think if you're careful about who you rent it to, you should be okay. Ask for references. That usually puts a stop to any dubious types."

"Do you think I should do that, then?"

"It's your house, you decide," I smiled.

She leaned over and kissed me. "Then I guess I'll go with renting. How do I do that? Put an ad in the paper?"

"You could check with your mother and see if any of the local realty people handle rentals. That way, the onus is on them to do the background checks."

"Good suggestion, Aaron," Meg said and she walked into the kitchen from her almost completed new suite. She had obviously overheard our conversation. "I can get hold of Tim Chancellor and let him assign someone from his firm if you like, dear?"

"Yes, please. The less fuss the better. Almost everything personal is already here. We should time it so you are moved into your new suite, though," Yolanda suggested. "How much longer, do you think?"

"Not much. Tile in the bathroom, some trim and painting, the wood floor. I'd guess a week, wouldn't you Aaron?"

"No more. Are you happy with the custom moldings and millwork?"

"Very. When they are painted, you won't be able to tell them from the originals. All the gingerbread on this house ... it was just amazing how detailed it was," Meg said, looking around at the elaborate cove, wainscoting, casing, and baseboards in the old house. 

I agreed. It was great that knives could be cut to reproduce these moldings exactly to the original. The suite would look like it was built as part of the original house, inside and out.

The next day, my life got turned upside down once again, and it all came as a result of a phone call at work.

"Hello, Aaron ... it's Georgia," the once-familiar voice came. I was caught by surprise of course, but managed a reply.

"Georgia? Why are you calling? Is there something the matter with the boys?" I asked, anxious now.

"I need your help, Aaron. The boys are alright, but I'm worried. Leonard has disappeared."

I couldn't help myself. "Maybe he's found a new bimbo," I sneered.

"No ... you don't understand. All his personal things are still here at home. Just he and his car are missing."

"How long has he been gone?" I was beginning to wonder where this conversation was supposed to go. 

"Five days. I've called the police and reported a missing person. I've checked on-line, but he hasn't used any of his or my credit cards. I think something bad has happened to him." She sounded genuinely worried.

"And you called me because?"

"Leonard has been dealing with some people that make me nervous. It was something to do with a land deal, and he was raising financing for a development. Something went wrong, but he wouldn't tell me what. The people he was dealing with ... I think they might be gangsters."

"You've been watching too many Robert De Niro movies. What makes you think they're gangsters?"

"I've seen them. They carry guns. They act like thugs. They make crude remarks around me and Leonard is afraid to tell them to stop."

"Okay, Georgia, I don't want my sons anywhere near that kind of danger either. What do you want from me?"

"I have to get out of Chicago for a while. At least until they find Leonard. I need the boys and me to be safe. I'd like to have the boys stay with you ... for their safety."

"After all this time, after doing everything humanly possible to prevent me from seeing my sons, you now decide you need me. Jesus Christ, Georgia! You really are one selfish bitch!" I snapped.

"Aaron, please. I know you won't turn the boys away. I know I've hurt you ... keeping you away from them. But please, this is important. Don't turn your back on them, please."

"Of course I won't. What are you going to do?"

"I have a friend in Sacramento. She has room for me, but not the boys. I'm going to stay with her until this dies down, or until Leonard shows up again. I've got enough money to get plane tickets for the three of us, but not much more."

"Alright, Georgia. You get yourself and the boys packed and out of that place immediately. I'll see what flights are available and book the tickets. I'll send an e-mail with the flight information to Terry. Understood?"

"Yes, understood. I'll get the boys to start packing immediately. And thank you, Aaron. Thank you."

We exchanged cell phone numbers and I promised I would be waiting at the airport for their arrival. I got lucky. It took less than thirty minutes to find a flight from O'Hare to Sacramento. There was a Delta flight leaving at three o'clock and arriving just after seven in the evening, and I booked three tickets in their names. They only had a couple of hours to get to O'Hare. I called Georgia back.

"Okay, Georgia. You don't have much time to get to the airport. Your flight leaves at three this afternoon. It's almost noon there now. Are you going to be able to make it?"

"Yes. We'll make it. I'll arrange for a cab. What about the tickets?"

"Do you have an active credit card?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Go to the airport and use your credit card to identify yourself on the automated machines. They'll have someone there to help you if you have a problem. You can get your boarding passes printed right there. Then, all you'll need to do is check your bags and go through security. Understood?"

"Yes. And thank you again, Aaron. We'll see you in Sacramento."

We signed off and I hung up the phone, leaning back in my chair. My office door was open, but I didn't see any indication anyone had overheard much of my conversation. I hoped not. I didn't need to feed the gossip mill. I took a deep breath, got up, and headed for the coffee room.

Coffee in hand, I walked up the hall toward my boss's office in the front corner.

"Doug, can I talk to you for a minute? It's personal."

"Sure. Come in and close the door." 

Doug Howell was general manager of Big Valley Box. He was my mentor, always making sure I was treated with respect and kept well informed. I was on the management team and the salary committee, so I had equal status with all the other managers. Doug had been a real tower when I was off recuperating from my beating earlier in the year.

"Doug, I just got a very strange phone call from my ex-wife. Apparently her husband has gone missing and she is concerned about his safety. Looks like he may have been trying to do business with some dangerous people. I've got her on a plane this afternoon with my two boys and they're coming into Sacramento early this evening. 

"The boys are going to be staying with me, while Georgia will stay with a friend in Sacramento. I have no intention of letting her take those boys away from me again. They are staying here unless they choose to go. I doubt that will happen. I'm going to have to get them registered in school and settled. I haven't discussed this with Yolanda or Meg yet. I may need a bit of time, off and on, to handle this situation. I'd appreciate it if you could give me some flexibility to get this out of the way. I promise it won't interfere with my doing my job."




Replacement Therapy Ch. 05



"Do what you have to do, Aaron. I know how much you were hurting when she took the boys from you. You do what you have to do. We'll cover for you."

"Thanks. Considering what you've already done for me when I was in hospital and recovering, I know I'm asking a lot. I really appreciate it."

He smiled an easy smile, one of his trademarks. "You just look after your boys. That's what's important here."

I left work a bit early to get home and talk to Meg and Yolanda. Luckily, they were both there when I arrived.

"Ladies, we need to talk. I've got a challenge and I need your help."

I spilled out the story of the phone call and Georgia's concerns. I told them I'd be picking them up at the airport that evening, but I wasn't sure where I would have them stay. 

"Oh for Pete's sake, Aaron," Meg snapped. "They'll stay here with you, of course. We can have them double bunk until you get things settled."

"I was hoping you'd say that. In the meantime, I need to get another pair of beds from my storage unit. May I borrow the truck, please, Yolanda."

"Not without me as a helper," she grinned.

In less than an hour, we had picked up the bed frames, box springs, and mattresses and arrived back at the house. I would get the boys to help me move the mattresses and box springs upstairs. I could handle the rest myself. My mind was racing as I looked forward to seeing my sons for the first time in nearly three years. 

"May I come with you to the airport?" Yolanda asked.

"Of course. You're going to be their step-mother. I want them to love you just as I do."

She smiled and gave me a nice, sweet kiss. 

We left for the airport at six-fifteen. The flight was expected to be on time the last I had looked on the website. We made the arrival area just as their plane had landed and waited almost fifteen minutes before the first passengers began to trickle in. I saw the boys first, and waved to them. It took a couple of moments before they saw me and enthusiastically waved back. 

I saw Georgia next, and she gave me a modest wave of acknowledgement. She looked haggard and drawn, older than I remembered her. Their luggage arrived and they piled it onto a cart and moved to the exit. I greeted the boys on my knees, hugging them tightly.

"Hi Terry ... Matt. Great to see you. How are you? Okay?" I couldn't think of anything else to say as my eyes began to water.

"Hi Dad," they said, almost in unison. "It's great to be back home," Terry added. 

That hit me. They still considered this their home. That was a big lift to my spirits. I hadn't lost them.

"Hello, Georgia. Glad you were able to make it okay." 

"Yes. You arranged everything perfectly. Thank you again."

I turned to Yolanda, who had been nearby, but a couple of steps away, allowing the boys and me, as well as Georgia, some room.

"Yolanda, I'd like you to meet my sons, Terry ... and Matt. Boys, this is Yolanda Michaels, my fiancée." 

I caught the look of surprise on Georgia's face. I was hoping I would shock her, and it looked like I succeeded.

"Yolanda, this is Georgia Saunders, my ex-wife." They shook hands politely. I didn't detect any ill feeling in their greeting.

"Georgia, is your friend meeting you here at the airport?" I asked.

"No, I haven't been able to get hold of her."

I was about to turn to Yolanda when I heard her say, "Come with us then. We'll find a place for you."

I took one look at her and saw that she was serious. I put my animosity aside for a while and nodded. I didn't know where that place would be, but knowing my fiancée and her mother, there'd be a solution. In the meantime, the boys were champing at the bit to get going. 

It wasn't much more than a half hour from the airport to our home, and the boys were full of questions. Where were we living now? Who was going to be there with them? Were there any other kids in the neighborhood? And so on.

Yolanda fielded the questions very well, I thought. The answers were pretty generic, but flicking my eyes to the rear view mirror, I could see my sons were pretty excited about what they would discover. Georgia, on the other hand, was quiet and spent most of her time looking out the window at the scenery, apparently lost in her thoughts.

When we arrived at the house, the boys were full of "awesome" and "cool" comments. Georgia, however, seemed to be in shock.

"Is this where you're living?" she asked in amazement.

"Yes. It's Yolanda's mother's house. It's been in the family for a hundred years. It's also a heritage house, with quite a storied history."

Georgia was clearly impressed. "Very elegant, Aaron. You've come up in the world."

I was about to make a smart-assed remark when I bit my tongue and refrained. I saw the look from Yolanda and knew I'd done the right thing.

Meg met us at the door and the introductions were made as I was hauling the suitcases in from the car. Considering how little time they had to pack, they managed to bring a lot of stuff. Just as well, I supposed.

While we were gone, Meg had called the two young men down the street to help with the mattress and box spring, and by the time we had arrived, the bed was set up and made. I got my exercise bringing the suitcases upstairs while the women worked out the logistics of who would sleep where. 

"Meg ... where do you want me to put Georgia's bag?"

"Oh ... put it in DeDe's room. I've got an old camp cot in the storage barn that we can set up for Kirk, and we'll move his bed into DeDe's room for Georgia."

"Yeah ... sure." I wasn't enthusiastic about it, but I had to admit, it solved a short-term problem. I had no idea how long we would be putting up with my ex-wife, but it looked like it wasn't presenting any problem for Meg, so I just went with the flow.

There was something else on my mind, as well. What about Leonard and his dubious business connections? Were they likely to show up here looking for him? Was having Georgia here putting the rest of the family in danger? And just what the hell was her husband up to that he needed tainted money in the first place? 

Time enough for that in the morning. First thing was to get the boys settled. Their bodies would still be operating two hours ahead, and I was sure they would be tired from the stress and strain of bailing out of Chicago quickly. Tomorrow, I would talk to the boys and Georgia separately. I wanted some straight answers and I was more confident I would get those from Terry and Matt than from their mother.

I was lying in bed later that evening, my mind racing at ninety-miles-an-hour when I felt Yolanda's arm pull me to her. 

"Relax, Aaron. You're wound up tighter than a clock spring. It's not a big deal. We'll figure out what to do about Georgia and your sons. Just leave it to Mom and me."

I could visualize her grinning at me in the dark. I clasped her hand in mine, a silent thank-you for her being there. I was in a much happier place with her, and Georgia being here only served to remind me just how much better off I was. 

To be concluded...

Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.



Replacement Therapy Ch. 06



Chapter 6: Clearing Space



The next morning I vowed to have a private session with Georgia. I intended to lay down my cards, and I was pretty certain she wasn't going to like what I said. I had been taken advantage of by her, and I wasn't in a very forgiving mood. I had quite a dynamic conversation with her last night ... in my dreams. 

I was in a surprisingly good mood, considering how uptight I had been the night before. The catalyst for that mood was the children. They merged like they had known each other all their lives. Within hours, they formed alliances; Terry became Kirk's protector, while DeDe and Matt were pretending to be girlfriend and boyfriend. They plotted their day together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I saw the looks of relief and pleasure on everyone's faces and breathed a sigh of gratitude.

DeDe and Kirk knew the "lay of the land" around the house, and took it upon themselves to familiarize the two boys. It was important to know where the cereal was kept, along with the peanut butter, and other essential food supplies. They also needed to know that Grandma Meg's room was out of bounds unless invited. 

After that bit of soul-lightening drama, I wasn't in such a rush to confront Georgia. I took my second cup of coffee out on the front porch and sat in my now-favorite wicker rocker, wondering just what I wanted to accomplish. One thing was certain, the boys were staying here and that was non-negotiable. I would use whatever leverage I had to make sure of it. I knew Yolanda understood, as did Meg. I was certain I could count on their support. 

I had been sitting for about ten or fifteen minutes when I heard the screen door open, and saw Georgia walk out onto the porch. She stepped to the railing in front of me and leaned back on it. 

"I think we need to talk, Aaron."

"Yes ... we certainly do."

"I know you're angry with me ... I understand that. I'm not very proud of what I've done to you. I'm sure an apology will sound pretty hollow, but ... I am sorry."

I said nothing, just looking at her with what I guessed was a non-committal stare. It was her platform.

"I'm not sure what's going to happen with Leonard, but I can't put the boys in any more danger. I would like to leave them in your care ... if that's alright with you."

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. My face must have shown it.

"After all I did to keep them away from you, I know it isn't what you expected, but ... it's the right thing for them. I love them dearly, but I know you do too. The truth is, they would rather be here with you than with me in Chicago. Leonard tried to make contact with them ... get close to them ... but it never really happened. He was always going to be an outsider. After a while, he quit trying."

It was time to say something. "I was never going to let you take them away from me again, Georgia. You must have realized that."

She nodded. "Just don't do what I did, Aaron. Don't shut me out. I love them and I know they love me. I need some contact with them ... a mother always needs contact with her children."

"How can I trust you? I did once and look what it got me. I won't let you run off to some far away place with them."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm either going to find a place here, or in Sacramento. I've still got my real estate license, so I'll find a job somewhere."

I don't know what possessed me to say the next thing out of my mouth. "We've got a house for rent nearby. Talk to Yolanda. She might be willing to show it to you."

The second I said it I wondered if I was going to regret it ... big time!

Georgia looked at me as if I was an alien. "You'd do that?"

I waved my hand in dismissal. "Talk to Yolanda. It's her house. She decides."

I could see Georgia's eyes watering, and I looked away, finishing the last of my coffee. I think we were both trying to figure out the other. My taste for revenge had seemingly disappeared. I just wanted my boys nearby. I wasn't worried that she would take good care of them. We could probably come to some arrangement for sharing them. Probably.

I decided to go to work later that morning. They might not be expecting me, but Doug and "my girls" had been more than understanding as I went through the toughest period in my life. It looked like it might be over now. I was 99% healthy, and I had my boys back. I was feeling energized and I wanted to share it with the people who had covered for me during the dark times.

"What the hell are you doing here?" was the first thing out of Doug's mouth.

I laughed. Typical Doug. "Well ... let's see. I'm feeling good. I got my boys back and they're staying at the house, and ... my ex-wife isn't going to run off with them again. What else would make me feel this good?"

Doug whacked me on the shoulder in glee. He never did have a light touch. He was happy for me.

The girls all trooped in after I settled into my office. They had heard the rumors about my boys and ex-wife coming out unexpectedly, and wanted to hear all the news. I told them about it with a big smile on my face. Every one of them was happy for me. It took a few minutes before things settled down, but by lunch time I was back to my usual routine.

When I arrived home that afternoon, I was greeted by a big kiss and a loving hug from Yolanda. She leaned back and smiled at me, the hint of a tear in her eyes.

"You are a big man, Aaron ... a very big man. I am so proud of you ... and I'm so very lucky you are mine."

"I take it Georgia said something to you?"

She nodded. "I showed her the house this afternoon. It will be perfect for her if she decides to stay in the area. She's already made a couple of phone calls to local realtors. She's going in for interviews tomorrow.  

"Good. Now we'll just wait and see what happens. I'm glad I did what I did. I feel better about it than punishing her. She knows what she did was wrong ... and she can't undo it. If she's sincere, we'll just push on from here."

I got another big kiss and hug. We walked into the house together. I could hear the kids. They were off in the back of the house, playing together I assumed. Meg looked around the entrance to the kitchen, confirming it was me, I guess. She gave me a big smile and went back to doing whatever she was doing.

We'd put the last extension into the dining room table, as feeding eight of us was going to be a bit of a production number. If it was a strain on Meg, it didn't show. In fact, she seemed to be having fun with all these house guests. I assumed she was getting some help from Yolanda and Georgia, and it turned out I was right.

It was back to my normal workday on Friday. I wasn't first at the breakfast table, however. My boys were still operating on partial Chicago time, so they were up early and sitting at the table with their cereal and orange juice. I started the coffee, and was off to the office before eight. It felt good to be back in some kind of normal flow once again. It had been a while.

On Saturday, I went over to Yolanda's house to cut and trim the grass, and generally make sure the property was in good order. No one had been living there for a month, although we had visited now and then for one reason or another. The thought of Georgia living there wasn't bothering me. I had come to accept our new relationship. 

DeDe and Kirk introduced the boys around the neighborhood, and they soon found some new playmates. I bought them new bikes on the weekend. They were quite happy with that, even though they had dirt bikes back in Chicago. All the other kids in the area had regular bikes, so they weren't at a disadvantage.

After all the years of living in the Yuba City area, I had become used to the late summer heat. The temperature often rose above one hundred, and despite the fact that it was the fabled "dry heat," it was still damn hot. I pondered suggesting a pool for the back yard, but was afraid to broach the subject with Meg for fear of interfering in her affairs. I know she explained that it was all "our" property, but in my mind, and in Yolanda's too, we thought of it as Meg's.

My salary was going into what was now a joint account with Yolanda. Her business had tapered off, as was typical during the summer. Meg refused to accept any payment for our presence in her home, other than to allow us to buy groceries now and then. I know it wasn't putting any economic strain on her, but just the same, we weren't comfortable with being "freeloaders." 

"Oh, nonsense, Aaron!" Meg said with disdain when I brought the subject up. "You have no idea how happy you have made me just being here. Yolanda's alive again, and I have two new grandsons to spoil. What more could I want?"

It was a futile argument, but I had to at least let her know we were ill at ease by not contributing.

"If you want to do something, then why don't you save your money and see what it would cost to put an in-ground pool in the back. With four young children, it would be a valuable addition to this house, and great fun for them. Why, even the adults could use it now and then," she smirked. 

"I think that's a terrific idea. Leave it to me," I volunteered. I got a big smile from Yolanda, so I knew I was on solid ground. I did pause to wonder how Meg came up with the idea.

It turned out to be an "off-season" project. The wedding was scheduled first, with the reception in the back yard, so by the time the contractor could begin work, it would almost be November. I thought that would be great timing, the pool easily being ready for next spring. We decided not to discuss it with the children or we'd never hear the end of it. They'd figure it out soon enough.

Yolanda had been going back and forth between her house and our home to continue her dressmaking. There was no room available to place the ping pong table other than in the workshop, and that was not a suitable environment for her. 

It would appear that Georgia and Yolanda were getting along quite well together. I didn't know whether to be pleased or not. I was still suspicious of my ex-wife's sudden turnaround in attitude. I was hoping it was genuine, but I had lingering doubts without any substance to back them up. 

Meg and I were in the kitchen cleaning up after supper one evening. Georgia and Yolanda had gone to the other house for an hour or so to get some alterations on two of Georgia's business suits. She had apparently lost weight in the past few months, and needed them taken in for her prospective new job. 

"Meg ... what's your take on Georgia? Do you think she's really changed?"

"I never knew her before she came here, Aaron, so I can't answer the last question. She seems sincere. If she's hiding something, she's doing a good job of it."

"She hid her affair with Leonard for some time, so I wouldn't say it was beyond her capabilities. I wish I knew more about this Saunders guy. He barely shows his face and they're off to Chicago the minute the custody order is granted. I never did figure out what the big rush was."

"Why don't you let me see what I can find out through my sources? If he's got any track record at all, we'll find it."

"Thanks. I keep wondering if he's still alive. If he's been playing with the kind of people Georgia thinks he has, he could easily be dead. I guess I'd like to know just for some peace of mind. I don't like looking over my shoulder wondering if someone else is looking for him, or her, or even the boys."

"I understand. Leave it to me," she said with conviction.

It was three days later that Meg signaled me that she wanted to talk ... in private. We met on the front porch.

"There is a bench warrant out on Leonard Saunders for failure to appear. He's facing charges of fraud in connection with a land deal in Roseville. Apparently he extracted something like a quarter of a million dollars from some investors, then disappeared."

"Well, that certainly explains his haste in getting out of town. I guess I'm not surprised. I thought he was sleaze right from the get-go."

"You've got good instincts, Aaron. Too bad Georgia doesn't. Apparently he couldn't get conventional financing for another land development scheme when he arrived in Chicago. I'm guessing that he went the 'unconventional' route, but there's no way to know for sure."

"Jesus ... either this guy has balls of steel, or he's a dumb as a sack full of rocks," I offered, shaking my head.

"Maybe some of both. Too stupid to be frightened," Meg grinned.

"Any sign of him anywhere else?" I wondered.

"Nothing we've detected. I've got someone keeping an eye out for him via electronic monitoring. If his name shows up on a credit card, any government document, loan application, credit check ... you name it, I'll get a call."

"How much is this costing?" I asked, slightly alarmed at the resources that were being brought to bear.

"Nothing. My 'friend' issued the bench warrant. He wants him too."

"Meg ... you are amazing. I've never met anyone like you. I think I got double lucky when I met Yolanda." I meant every word. She was something special. 

She responded with one of her lovely, warm smiles.

It was three weeks to our wedding day. It went without saying that Meg, Yolanda, and to some extent Georgia, had everything in hand. Aside from the final fitting on my new suit, I was ready. I had successfully argued against a tuxedo, thinking it was just a little too over-the-top for a garden wedding and reception.

I was sitting at the kitchen table with DeDe, Matt, and Terry that evening, helping them to finish their homework. They had been back to school for a month and it was a challenge to get them to focus on the discipline that had vanished over the summer holidays. Kirk was finished first, and was up in his bedroom, getting ready for bed. 

Yolanda and Georgia were at the 'old' house, working on the wedding gowns. Georgia had been invited at the insistence of Yolanda as a gesture of good will. I thought it was overly generous, but my future bride was very persuasive. Along about ten o'clock I noticed they hadn't returned yet. Probably got themselves wrapped up in the work and forgot the time. I picked up the phone to give them a call.

There was no answer after five rings, so I called Yolanda's cell number. Still no answer. I assumed they were on their way home, but after twenty minutes and no sign of them, I began to worry. I tried both phones again, and still there was no answer. I told Meg what was happening and that I was going over to the house to see if everything was alright. I guessed it was too far to get upstairs to answer the house phone and that Yolanda had turned off her cell. It was the only reasonable answer.

When I arrived at the house I was relieved to see Yolanda's car in the driveway. There were no lights on upstairs, but I assumed that would mean they were still downstairs. I used my key to enter and flicked on the front hall light. I heard nothing, so I headed through the kitchen toward the door to the basement stairs. When I opened it, I could see the light was on in the big room, so I walked downstairs.

As I cleared the ceiling and took in the room before me, I stopped immediately. Sitting in the rocking chair was a man. A gray haired man. A gray haired man with a gun. He didn't look anything like he had the last time I saw him almost three years ago, but there was no doubt it was Leonard Saunders. 

Huddled in the far corner was Georgia, curled up in a ball, her eyes staring off into space, apparently unaware of my presence. Yolanda was pressed up against the adjoining wall, her eyes wide in fear, too frightened to say anything. 

It took me a minute to regain my wits and take the last three steps into the basement.

"That's far enough, Prentice," Saunders growled. He looked like hell; disheveled, unshaven, gaunt. He held the gun loosely in his hand, not pointing it at anyone. He looked beat, in more ways than one.

"What's going on, Leonard?" I asked, trying to sound calm and confident. I wasn't too sure I pulled it off.

"What's it look like? I'm moving in. I need a new address. This will have to do."

"That's not going to work ... and you know it. Your best bet is to give yourself up to the local authorities. They have a warrant out on you."

"Are you crazy? Why would I do that?"

"Self preservation. The other people looking for you won't treat you quite as well as the locals."

"What do you know about 'other people'?"

"You've borrowed a lot of money from some dangerous sources. Word out of Chicago is that they want to have a talk with you ... soon," I bluffed.

If he could have looked any grayer, he managed it. I'd never seen a man so defeated.

"It's your safest option, Leonard. Harming any of us is your worst option. Trying to run from the mob is an iffy proposition at best. Anyway you look at it, sliding that gun across the floor and letting me call the police is your best bet."

His body language told me that he had surrendered. The rest was just a formality. I watched him carefully and he put the gun down and slumped back in the rocking chair, closing his eyes. He was exhausted. Exhausted and beaten.

I walked slowly over and picked up the gun. It felt very light. I ejected the clip and saw that it was empty. A quick check confirmed there was nothing in the chamber. I took out my cell phone and called Meg.

"Meg ... please call the police and an ambulance and send them to Yolanda's. Leonard Saunders is here and has agreed to surrender. The ambulance is for Georgia. She appears to be in shock. Ask them to refrain from lights and sirens, please. There's no need." 

I closed the phone after Meg's acknowledgement, confident she would know how to handle the situation. I went to Yolanda and held her. She was trembling, but there were no tears. She buried her head in my shoulder and hugged me tightly.    

"It's alright, sweetheart. The gun wasn't loaded. Everything will be alright now," I soothed.

I felt her head nod weakly as I relaxed my hold on her. I looked over to Georgia, as she was still wrapped tightly in her own little ball. I would leave it to the paramedics to examine and treat her. Leonard, on the other hand, lay flopped back in the rocker, glassy-eyed, immobile. 

In less than ten minutes, there was a knock on the door and I quickly went upstairs to answer it. I ushered the police in and identified the lone male as Leonard Saunders, wanted on a warrant issued in Sutter County. The paramedics were only a minute behind, and I led them to the basement room, asking them to examine Georgia. 

The police read Leonard his rights, cuffed him, and walked him upstairs and out of the house, presumably to the police station. Georgia, on the other hand, was still unresponsive, and they strapped her to a gurney and took her upstairs and out to the ambulance. 

It was over. A brief, frightening, unexpected encounter with danger. In truth, there was little danger, but no one but Leonard knew that at the time. I led Yolanda upstairs, turned out the lights, locked the door, and drove her home. I'm sure she felt like I did. That was quite enough for one day.

Leonard was charged and remanded in custody as a flight risk. He couldn't have made the bail even if he wanted to. I suspected he was happier to be in the safety of the Sutter County Jail than out on the street, an open target.

Georgia slowly recovered from the trauma of having Leonard turn up unexpectedly. He had gone to our old home and the new owners had obligingly let him know where I had moved to. From there, it was only one more step to follow my trail to Yolanda's home, and after staking that out, didn't have long to wait for Georgia to appear. 

I visited Georgia in the hospital where they had kept her under observation for two days. She was looking better, but I could tell she was depressed. She had already mentally divorced Leonard, and realizing the mess she had made of her life, she was having a great deal of trouble reconciling it. She had no idea what she was going to do next. 




Replacement Therapy Ch. 06



Georgia was released after two weeks in a rehabilitation centre for abused women. It was the only facility available to her, a non-resident. Fortunately, she seemed to be better, although far from the woman I remembered three years earlier. She moved to Sacramento, and roomed with her friend. She had a job offer in Roseville and took it. I saw her a few weeks later when she visited the boys and she looked much better. Much more alive.

Meg disappeared for a few days in early October. Yolanda said she was off with one of her "boyfriends" at Lake Berryessa for a little R & R. No one deserved it more than her. She would return with her batteries recharged and ready for whatever came next, especially the wedding.

My bachelor party, such as it was, consisted of a night at Doug Howell's club with designated best man, Johnny Gordon, and my old pal, Nick Kleinhof. Nick was grateful for the night off and to be served by others for a change. We were a pretty quiet foursome, but had a lot of fun and a lot to drink. Johnny had provided a driver and limo for the evening. Our driver was a particularly attractive young woman, and it was a shame she couldn't join us in the club.

Meg arranged a "hen party" for her daughter, and gathered up a collection of Yolanda's friends to join the party. I have no idea what transpired with the six or seven women that attended, but Meg implied that it was just as well I didn't know. What I did know was that three of us were nursing minor hangovers the next morning.

I was getting nervous as the wedding date approached. I'm not sure if it was because I wasn't certain about marrying again, or just the usual pre-event jitters common to most grooms. There was one certainty, however; I was going to marry Yolanda, and with that, have a family of four children. I was going to have everything I ever wanted, and then some.

We talked about my adopting her children so that they could share the Prentice name. Yolanda was fine with it, but suggested we talk to the children and see how they felt. I was going to do that anyway. After all, if I had asked them if it was okay to marry their mother, it only made sense to ask them about their last name.

"DeDe, Kirk, I want to ask you an important question," I began. They looked at me, perhaps a bit worried about what I wanted of them.

"When your mother and I get married, her name will be Mrs. Prentice. But ... your names will still be Deanna and Kirk Michaels."

"Why?" Kirk answered. DeDe looked distressed as well.

"I have to adopt you so that your name can be the same as mine. But I only want to do that if you want it too."

"I want to have the same name as my mom and dad," DeDe said with authority.

"Me too," Kirk chimed in.

"So, if we do that, your names will be Deanna and Kirk Prentice. Is that okay?"

I got two very positives nods in favor.

"Good ... then that's what we'll do. As soon as your mom and I are married, I'll get the paperwork going and we'll all be the Prentice family.

"Yaay!" Kirk yelled. He raced of to tell his mother and grandmother about the meeting. 

"Does that mean you'll be my real daddy?" DeDe asked.

"Well, not exactly ... but legally ... yes. Your real daddy died in the war, so I'm your new, official daddy. Can you understand that?"

She nodded and smiled one of her special big smiles. Then she paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Is it okay if I call you Daddy?" she asked carefully.

"Yes ... it's very okay. I'd really like that. Also, it means that Terry and Matt are your brothers, and you are their sister. How about that?" 

"Goody. I like Matt ... and Terry. Now I have three brothers," she said, holding up three fingers.

These kids were making my life very easy. I could only hope it would always be this way. 

Yolanda wandered into the living room a few moments after DeDe left and sat beside me. "You seem to know just what to say to them. Kirk is very happy that you are going to be his father. I'm sure Deanna is as well. Terry and Matt are happy to be back with you and seem very comfortable around me. That's a big relief."

"Well, I didn't expect a problem. DeDe and Kirk's real father is gone, and I'm the next best thing," I laughed. "Somebody has to play the role."

"You know, Aaron, that the ceremony is just that ... a ceremony. We're already married, emotionally and physically. You already are their father. The rest is just a formality. I've been Mrs. Prentice for a while now, and I've loved every minute of it ... except maybe for the appearance of Leonard."

"I know what you mean and I feel the same way. I have a wife, a daughter, and three sons. I've gone from being completely alone to having a wonderful family in a very short time. I feel very lucky ... very blessed."

We sat quietly for a while, just holding hands, satisfied in each other's company. 

"I hate to break the mood," I said after a few minutes, "but something occurred to me today that we should discuss. We need bigger transportation. I was going to suggest we trade in one of our cars on a minivan. Something with seven passenger capability so there's room for Meg too. What do you think about that?"

"Here I was having lascivious thoughts about us and you want to talk about cars. Typical male," she said in mock disgust. She couldn't maintain her expression and dissolved into giggles.

"Well, on some of the models you can take out all the rear sets and we can turn it into a "shaggin' wagon" if you like," I tried.

"That's more like it. I'm getting to be a little more selfish with you around. We're going to have to guard our privacy if we want some regular playtime."

"That thought had occurred to me, all right. Maybe we can secretly put a private room in the shop building."

"And just exactly how, with four children around, would you be able to keep that a secret?"

"Yeah," I said, defeated. "It was just a thought."

She wrapped her arms around me in that now-familiar way and kissed me deeply. "We'll find a way ... don't worry. I'm not giving up my favorite pastime just yet. Maybe in thirty or forty years. Besides, we have a bathroom between us and the children's rooms. And ... we aren't that loud, are we?"

"Okay ... I'm convinced. It seems like the problem isn't really a problem."



I'd been off work for so many weeks this year that I didn't have the heart to take more time for a honeymoon. We decided to defer it to next year and give ourselves lots of time to decide where to go. In the meantime, I had an interim plan. Thanksgiving at Disneyland with the kids. It was a one day drive, and if we left on Thursday, we would have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to enjoy the sights, and then drive home Monday. For me, a one-day-extended weekend holiday. Yolanda was all for it.

"Let's not tell the kids until all the arrangements are made and it's closer to time to go. That way they won't get wound up and drive us crazy too far in advance."

"Agreed. My boys haven't been there yet, and I'm assuming your two haven't either."

"Sweetheart ... they're all ours," she reminded me. "And you're right ... none of them has been there before. I think it's a wonderful idea. Why don't you start making the arrangements?"

"Okay. In the meantime, we really will need a van, so why don't we go look for one on Saturday?"

"You talked me into it," she said, kissing me once again and moving back to the kitchen.

The wedding went off without a hitch, aided by wonderful early fall weather. The reception was held in the yard, with canopies supplied to ward off either sun or rain. It turned out to be a comfortably sunny day, and our guests lingered until quite late in the afternoon. I got to meet Judge Beltran, Representative Reardon, and a couple of other dignitaries who were friends of Meg. 

Yolanda and I had booked a B & B in Nevada City for our one night honeymoon. I wish it had been longer, but we enjoyed each other's company that evening, and the next morning. 

As I thought about my life now, it seemed impossible to accept that it had turned out so well when only a few short months ago I was alone and lonely. My special guest at the wedding was Nick Kleinhof, in recognition of his putting Yolanda and me together. It may not have been his intention, but that's the way it worked out, and I'll be forever grateful. 

So it only made sense that I would be sitting at the bar with Yolanda that following Saturday afternoon, raising our glasses to Nick. We might never know who Backstreet Bernie was, but we sure as hell knew how important he was to both of us.

END 

Editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks for their thoroughness and helpful suggestions. Any errors are mine.