Storiesonline.net ------- Finding Shelter by Jay Cantrell Copyright© 2009 by Jay Cantrell ------- Description: Mike Cavenaugh is facing 40 with an ex-wife he can't stand and a teen-aged daughter he can't begin to understand. The lone bright spot in his life is his son. Then he meets Carrie Walton in one of the unlikeliest of places. Codes: MF rom ------- ------- Chapter 1 You know, if I didn't hate the bitch so much at the time, I probably would have thanked her. Of course that would imply that my ex-wife's actions were meant to benefit me instead of her, so she wouldn't have known what I was thanking her for in the first place. I'm glad I let it pass. Instead, I think I'll just tell you the story. ------- My ex-wife and I were married for 12 years. I would guess that 4 of the 12 were happy — but only because a person sleeps one-third of his life. We got married for the wrong reason — she was pregnant with our daughter — and we stayed married for the wrong reasons — we had a comfortable life and we didn't want to disrupt the children's lives. Yeah, children. We added a little boy to the mix two years before the divorce. I truly think the only reason we stayed married so long is because we both were simply too busy to take the time to file for divorce. I knew shortly after the nuptials that my life would be hell. I think Kelly figured it out pretty quickly too. But we had a little girl to think of and we toughed it out. Kelly dropped out of college to raise Kasey while I finished school and started to work. I got a job at a newspaper out of college and Kelly went back to school when Kasey turned 5. Our son was as big an accident as our daughter and the volatile household exploded when the demands of an additional child came along. Kelly had completed her master's degree and was working toward a doctorate in sociology when she announced that she was pregnant. I did not greet the news enthusiastically. I was working 70 hours a week and Kelly was trying to finish her thesis when our son was born. I took one look at his cute little face and I immediately regretted all the years I missed of Kasey's life. I vowed that I would be there for the important moments of Mark's childhood. Of course, Kelly had a different plan. I cut back on my hours to help out with Mark and Kasey. I was rewarded with divorce papers about 6 months after Kelly finished her Ph.D. She accepted a professorship at a college in another state and was granted physical custody of the children. I was left in an empty house with little to fill my time. I started doing volunteer public relations work for a little known state representative candidate and was rewarded for my efforts by becoming her press secretary when she actually won. I worked for her for a year before parlaying my success into a managing editor's post at a newspaper five miles from my children. I moved in three blocks from my ex-wife and immediately started to exercise my custody and visitation rights with more frequency that I could have from 400 miles away. My life was going pretty well. I got to spend time with my kids almost every day without seeing my ex-wife. I was doing a job I enjoyed and I was making enough money to cover my bills, my child support and still be able to eat. Little did I know how much was missing. ------- It was a Saturday morning like most others. It wasn't my weekend with the kids so I was planning some housework and a series of naps. I'm nothing if not Mr. Excitement. That all changed when a hateful old man fell down the stairs. When I say "hateful old man" I mean every word in its sincerest connotation. Kelly's grandfather was almost 90 years old and mean as a snake. He hated everyone and everything — and the feeling was reciprocated. He lived alone because a dog couldn't even stand to be around him. I'm not kidding. No less than 3 dogs had run away rather than deal with the man. But I digress. Kelly's grandfather lived about 150 miles from us and the nursing agency called because someone — anyone — needed to come and take care of him. Not a problem for me because I was no longer married to the hateful old man's hateful middle-aged granddaughter. Of course, when Kelly has a problem everyone has a problem. One phone call from Kelly and some of her difficulties were passed on to me. "I need a favor," Kelly told me. I will admit that I am unlikely to grant a favor to my ex-wife for any reason. OK, I guess "unlikely" is the wrong word. I refuse to grant a favor to my ex-wife under any circumstances. It's just the sort of relationship we have. If my kids need something, I'm all over it. If my neighbor needs something, I'm there. If a stranger on the street stops me and asks for something I can deliver, it is likely I will. My ex-wife? Not a prayer. "Too bad," I replied. "I'll give you an extra week with kids this summer," she answered. "Two weeks and then we'll discuss it," I shot back. There was silence on the line. We already split the kids' summer breaks down the middle anyway — sometimes right down to the hour. Don't ask. As I wrote, it's just the sort of relationship we have. "One week to talk about it," Kelly said. "Two weeks if you'll help me." "I want it in writing from your attorney," I told her. "I don't have time for that," she insisted. "I'll hand-write it and I'll tell the kids they get the extra time with you. They'll never let me out of it. Will that do?" "What do you want?" I asked. "It's not for me really," she said. "Look, granddad took a spill and broke his hip. Mom and Dad are God knows where and won't be home until Christmas Eve. I have to go down there and take care of the old bastard." "Kelly, I'll keep the kids without a deal," I interjected. "You know that." "No, I want the kids to come with me so I won't suffocate the man in his sleep," she told me. I didn't get the impression she was joking. "Look, you know that shelter I help out with?" Ah, the She-Woman Man Hater's Club. I did, indeed, know of the battered women's shelter of which she spoke. "Yes," I said warily. "They have a big Christmas dinner planned for Monday," she said. "I agreed to make a ham and mashed potatoes for them. Oh, and to get some gifts for the kids. If I'm with granddad I won't have time to do that. Will you do it for me?" "They would be afraid I laced it with arsenic," I answered. I also wasn't joking. I knew that the women at the shelter had come from abusive relationships but I also knew that not every man behaved like a Neanderthal. The women who ran the place didn't seem to get that memo. "I told them it would either come from you or they would go without," Kelly said. In her defense — and I don't come to her defense often — she was uncomfortable with many of the policies of the shelter but she also viewed the women there as worthwhile. I had to agree with her on that point — and I don't agree with her on much either. "OK," I said. "Let me know what I need to get and I'll handle it." "I've already got it," Kelly said. "I just need to drop it off to you. All you have to do is fix it. Oh, and Mark needs two dozen cookies for a program at church this week. Can you do that too?" "Of course," I answered. "Have you got the dough?" "Yeah," she said. "I was planning to bake all weekend. I am sorry about this, Mike." Stop the presses! My ex-wife said she was sorry. "No problem," I said. "Honestly, if it would just screw you over, I probably wouldn't do it. But the only people who'll suffer if I don't help you are the folks at the shelter and Mark. So I'll do it." I told you about the relationship I had with my ex-wife, right? "I know," Kelly said. "And I really do appreciate it. Do you want the first eight weeks of summer or the last?" She must have been in desperate straits indeed. "We'll talk about later," I concluded. "Just drop off the stuff and get down there to wipe your grandfather's ass." "Prick," she said before she hung up. ------- Please don't get the impression that my residual anger is over the divorce. It isn't. The divorce was inevitable and it was necessary. My anger is a direct result of my ex-wife moving the children far away and with the fact that she treated visitation as an inconvenience for her rather than something important for the children until I moved closer to them. I would routinely travel 6 hours one way every other weekend to stay at the Super 8 Motel with my son and daughter. Kelly refused to meet me halfway and she refused to work with me on making things easier for me to spend time with the children. For that, I'll never forgive her — and my daughter seems to feel the same way. Or perhaps Kasey — who is now 17 years old — simply inherited her mother's bitchiness gene. I'm not as rigid as Kelly so Kasey and I have a little better relationship. She also has figured out that on the rare occasions that Daddy says "no" he means it. With Kelly — who was only 19 when Kasey was born — "no" often is the starting point for negotiations. I believe it is a product of her liberal arts education. Mark is the same way. He is 5 and I have personally witnessed some of the tantrums he has thrown at his mother. Depending upon her state of mind, Kelly will either give in quickly or slowly. But if the tantrum is severe enough, she will always give in. She was the exact opposite when Kasey was a child. I would like to think that I am consistent. Mark understands a tantrum around me is a quick way to an evening in his room without whatever he wanted in the first place. Oh, he's tried it a time or two — what kid hasn't tested his limits — but he figured out quickly that Dad doesn't tell him "no" often but when he does it is for a pretty good reason. But again, I digress. I thought I should point out that I had no problem with the split but only with the manner it was done and the ensuing problems that were created. ------- Kelly dutifully dropped off the groceries and Christmas presents — and wrapping paper — and even thanked me for helping her out. "If I could have found someone else to do, I would have," she said. I fought the urge to tell her that if she wasn't such a bitch she probably would have more friends. It was a fight I barely won. "So I just drop the stuff off Monday at 5," I said instead. "Are they going to be pissed off I know where their super-secret clubhouse is located?" Hope Haven thrived on secrecy. Unfortunately, it was necessary. It was a place for women and children who had no place else to go. Their husbands and/or fathers were batterers and more than one had threatened to kill his wife after he was released from jail. "I mean, you can make arrangements for someone to pick it up," I offered. "You know I know where the shelter is located but that doesn't mean they want the women there to know that someone else knows. You know?" Kelly actually smiled. It was a rare occurrence, I can assure you. It looked as though it might have hurt. "It's fine," Kelly assured me. "The woman who is setting things up isn't one of the hard-liners. If you would be more comfortable, just set the things outside the door and ring the bell before you leave. I was planning to help them set up but they should be able to handle things. They're always packed this time of year." I nodded sadly. Through all the years of bitterness and outright hatred (at the end) I never had the urge to strike Kelly or the kids. Well, I had the urge a few hundred times but I was always able to stop myself. Kelly appeared to know what I was thinking. "It's hard to believe that those people had a worse marriage than we did," she said. "But it never came to that. I mean, there were times I wanted to stab you in your sleep — and there are times I still want to — but we never got to the point where we got physical. Thank you for that, Mike." "Shit, Kelly, we rarely even argued in front of the kids," I stated. "Honestly, I think we knew it was a waste of effort. We each knew the other was going to do whatever he or she wanted anyway. And I don't think there was enough emotion left in our marriage after the first couple of years to even rate a harsh word let alone anything further. We were simply not interested in the other." Kelly bowed her head slightly. "I guess you're right," she replied. "But still, it wasn't always that way. Even when things started to go bad we didn't get to that point. One or the other would always walk away when things got too heated." "It's how adults handle things, Kelly," I answered. It was as close to a compliment as she was likely to get from me. "I'll have the kids back by Christmas Eve morning," she said finally. "By the way, thanks for swapping holidays with me this year. Mom and Dad appreciate that you let the kids do things with my family on Thanksgiving and Christmas. "And I do, too," she added almost as an afterthought. "Hey, they're big deals with your family," I replied nonchalantly. "Your whole family gets together. It seems petty to keep the kids with me on a day when your Mom and Dad and aunts and uncles and cousins are all together. Besides, the kids enjoy seeing everyone." I concluded with a shrug. I gave the kids a kiss and they set off to be mortified with several days with a bitter old codger. I set off to do some cooking. ------- That probably would have been the end of the story — and a less-exciting story I've never before seen — except for Monday morning rolled around. I finished cooking on Sunday and had everything wrapped, tagged and ready to go. My refrigerator was filled to capacity with a bunch of food I wouldn't get the chance to eat. Well, that wasn't exactly true. I cut off a piece or six of the ham and ladled out a generous portion of mashed potatoes as payment for my efforts. It was the least I could do. But Monday afternoon I received a second urgent phone call from my ex-wife, this time at my office. "I need another favor," she said reluctantly. "You have nothing to bargain with," I said. "I doubt you're willing to go all summer without the kids. And I'm not missing Christmas Eve with them. So forget about just staying down there until the day after." "Damn it, Mike," Kelly said hotly. "It's not for me, it's for the shelter. I'm not staying here past the time Mom and Dad get home. I swear to God that man gets nastier each and every day. I hope my Dad dies before Mom because he's going to be exactly the same way." I bit off my retort about Kelly coming by her hatefulness genetically. "What do you want?" I asked. There was silence on the line. "Santa Claus is sick," she said finally. "I mean, the guy who plays Santa for the kids at the shelter is sick. Monica called me a little while ago and asked if I could convince you to do it." "I figured they just dressed up some bull-dyke lesbian in red faux leather," I replied. "I had no idea they let a person with testicles in there to play Santa." I heard Kelly take a deep breath. My lack of political correctness had always been a sore spot. In my defense, it was only in my personal life that I would use terms such as "bull-dyke" or "Pollock." To those who knew me professionally, I was another liberal media do-gooder. Why, I once even told a racist joke — quietly, though. "Will you do it?" Kelly asked hotly. "If you won't I don't know what they'll do. I mean, if she knew the real you, she wouldn't have asked. But since she only sees your public façade, she thinks you're a perfectly respectable human being." "Wow, she seems to like you and she views me as respectable," I shot back. "This chick must be an imbecile." "Possibly," Kelly said — purposefully ignoring the "chick" part, "bordering on likely. So will you do it?" "I have to bake Mark's cookies tonight," I said. I really didn't want to be in a room with a bunch of man-haters for even a short amount of time. And if the amount of Christmas gifts I had wrapped Sunday night were any indication of the number of children staying at Hope Haven, the time I spent there would be extensive. "What time to I have to be there and how long will it take?" Since it was already a foregone conclusion that I would do it, Kelly saw no reason to stay with her feigned niceness. "Why didn't you bake the cookies this weekend?" she asked harshly. "They would still be good later in the week." "Because I would have eaten the damned things and Mark would have had to take store-bought Little Debbie's," I answered. "What the fuck difference does it make why I didn't do it? I wasn't supposed to have to do it in the first place. Now what time to I have to be there and how long will it take?" "I guess you should stay when you drop off the food," she said. "And it will take as long as it takes." "Have Monica call me personally if she wants me to do this," I stated. "I've had enough of dealing with you for the week." "Fine," I heard before Kelly hung up. Twenty minutes later my office manager told me I had a visitor from Hope Haven. A portly woman was shown in. "Monica, I presume," I said in my sweetest, syrupy voice. "A phone call would have sufficed." Monica lowered her substantial bulk into a chair and rolled her eyes. "The crones would shit if they knew you had the phone number there," she said. "I mean, come on, you guys are all in a league together. You would probably write it on the men's room stall at the county jail." I couldn't help myself, I laughed. "Actually, we have a web site now," I replied. "Oh yeah, I heard about that," Monica laughed. "Www.chicksisbitches.com." "So, it's OK for me to know where you're located but not to have the phone number?" I mused. "Seems a bit backward to me, but I have little knowledge of the inner workings of the female mind." "Suffice it to say that it would be much more difficult for someone to break into our facility than it would be to harass someone via telephone," Monica said. "Not that I believe that you're a prospect for either action. Anyway, I've known your ex-wife since I was in college. She says you're an ass most of the time but you're harmless." I chuckled. "Well, with praise like that, I can't imagine why I'm not on your board of directors," I replied. "I'll ask you the same thing I asked Kelly: what time to I have to be there and how long will it last?" Monica looked at her hands. "I'm not sure," she said. "Your ex-wife said you have other commitments this evening and I'm worried that this could take a while. I mean, there are a lot of kids there this year — 27 as of this morning. I'd rather try to find someone else than have you rush a kid off your lap because you're in a hurry." I frowned. "I wouldn't do that," I stated. "Look, I know this is a big deal for those kids. I would guess that some of them haven't had much of a Christmas before and I would guess that some of them are having trouble adapting to life at Hope Haven. I simply was wondering if was going to be up half the night baking cookies or not." Monica let out a full laugh. "I figured when Kelly said you had other commitments it was work related," she said. "I pictured budget sessions or meeting some 'Deep Throat' type operative for an expose on the state legislature." "Actually, it is more important than either of those," I said. "My son needs cookies on Friday morning. I'm supposed to bake them and this is the only free evening I have this week." Monica looked thoughtful. "What kind of cookies?" she asked. Monica appeared to have put a way a cookie or two in her day — or perhaps about 1,000 Oreos per day. "Sugar," I said. "At least I think so. Kelly bought the dough. Why?" "Why don't you bake the cookies while the rest of the group eats?" she asked. "I'll stop and get some peanut butter cookies and maybe you could fix those as a treat for the kids. That way you get your cookies baked and everyone is happy." "That could work," I said. "But I'll pick up the cookies on the way over. It will be my small donation since Kelly bought all the food. Do you folks have a cookie tin?" "We're set as far as utensils," she answered. "We have two pretty big ovens. You should be able to bake four dozen cookies at once." "Sounds like a plan then," I said. "I have to swing home and get the food then I'll show up and ring the bell precisely at 5 p.m. Please tell me that you'll be the only person I have to deal with there." "Not exactly," Monica admitted. "Some of the other volunteers will be there. But I'll make sure that no one comes after you with a carving knife." It was the best I could hope for. "Last question: Do you have a Santa suit?" ------- Chapter 2 I was surprised when Monica admitted me to Hope Haven. The front door led down a long passageway to another door. Behind the door was a glass-in entryway. She wasn't kidding when she said that forced entry would be difficult. I guess you can't be too careful when dealing with men who would strike a women or a child. I didn't comment on the security as much as I wanted to. I was led through an office into a large kitchen. I was surprised at the size of everything. The building didn't look that large from the outside. Again, I refrained from commenting. In fact, I was silent from the moment I left the car. "Can you start heating up the food?" Monica asked. I nodded. "We plan to eat in about 45 minutes. Some of the women won't be home from their jobs until just before 6. I figure an hour or so for dinner and chit-chat then Santa can make his appearance at 7 or so. Does that work for you?" Again I nodded. "Mike, it's OK for you to speak," Monica said with a laugh. "Everyone knows you're here Ñ well, some of the residents don't but you won't be interacting with them anyway. But the staff knows who you are and why you're here. Some of them weren't real happy about it but you can't have everything. You won't be bothered in the kitchen." I smiled. I knew some of the administrators from my job. They were a diverse group with only two things in common Ñ a hatred of the male species and the fact they thought they deserved something for nothing. I first crossed paths with one of the directors about a week after I took my job. It seemed the former managing editor would do a fluffy column once or twice a year extolling the virtues of Hope Haven and urging the community to give generously to the organization. The columns were short on substance and long on platitudes. The director stopped in to ensure that I planned to continue the practice Ñ something I had no intention of doing without research. She didn't take my answer very well. In fact, she threw a tantrum that my son would have been proud to call his own. "I should have known when they hired a man that we would get no more help," she spat at me. I felt it important to interrupt at that point. "My gender has nothing to do with it," I said sharply. "The fact is that I am unwilling to lend my newspaper's name to an organization I know nothing about. Because you are unwilling to be forthcoming about the services you provide in anything except generalities and you refuse to say where the money that the public donates goes, I am unable to promise you positive coverage in any fashion. Any good journalist would treat your organization that way." I purposefully said the last statement to get my point across about the previous managing editor Ñ who had left the paper under less than positive circumstances. My answer didn't appease the woman in the slightest. "If you think I'm going to let men who beat their wives know what we do, you're insane," she hissed. "And if you think I'm going to subscribe to the same sort of management as my predecessor, so are you," I returned. "Open your books and tell me the specific procedures that you use and the specific programs that you offer and, if they are state-sanctioned, I might be willing to help you. As it is, I won't." Needless to say the woman continued to maintain that secrecy was of the utmost importance and I refused to budge on my stance. So the fluff piece became a thing of the past. It didn't bother me in the least when another woman called to complain that donations had decreased that year. "This paper is not your public relations department," I answered. "We deal in facts here. You give me facts and if they are corroborated, we can do a story. If you want to use supposition and anecdotes from unnamed sources, we can't. It's that simple. You get a huge state grant every year. If you want to do a PR piece, hire someone to do it. But the resources of the paper are going to be used differently than in the past." I was surprised when my ex-wife supported my decision. I knew she was affiliated with the shelter and I had expected a confrontation with her. The confrontation still came Ñ because they were as regular as a Swiss timepiece Ñ but it didn't involve Hope Haven. I knew the administrator in question had been demoted a few months earlier so I didn't exactly expect a warm welcome. I was happy to know that I would be left relatively alone in the kitchen. The re-heating of the food was easy and I was in the middle of decorating the first batch of cookies Ñ shaped as snowmen, candy canes and stockings Ñ when my life changed forever. ------- I was whistling a Christmas carol as I finished striping a candy cane cookie so I didn't hear her enter. It was only when she spoke did I realize anyone was even in the room with me. "Those are adorable," the woman said. I glanced up and my good mood evaporated instantly. The woman looked like she had gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson. Still she had a brilliant smile across her face. Even with the bruises and cuts on her face, I could tell she was beautiful. Or at least I thought she was. I tried my best to ignore her injuries but I'm not sure I was successful. "Thanks," I muttered as I went back to decorating. "My sister owned a bakery. I used to help her out in the summers when I was a kid." The woman moved closer and peered over my shoulder at the cookies I'd already finished. "You even put chocolate chips for the snowman's buttons," she said. "That is too cute." Her closeness made me uncomfortable. "Um, I'm sorry, Miss," I stammered. "But you're not supposed to be in here. I'm sure someone would be upset if they saw you here. I don't want to cause you any trouble." The woman chuckled grimly. "Any more trouble, you mean," she said. "It's OK. I just smelled the cookies and followed my nose. Do you need any help? I'd love to learn to decorate like that." I stepped away to increase the distance between us. "Not really," I said. "It's pretty simple after you do it a couple of times. The best part is, you get to eat your mistakes." The woman's laughter was fuller than I expected. She seemed so tiny, so fragile. But the sound emanating from her throat was rich. "I'm Carrie," she said extending her hand. "We don't use last names here for some odd reason. It's like they strip us of our identity since most of our dignity is already gone." She seemed troubled by that statement. "I'm Mike," I said. "Mike Cavenaugh. I got to keep my name when I came in." More laughter from Carrie. "Carrie Watson," she whispered. "But don't tell anyone. Are you related to Kelly Cavenaugh?" I rolled my eyes. "Related? No," I answered. "I was however married to her for a dozen years. I am related to our children though." I saw Carrie was missing a tooth when she smiled. "She's nice," she told me. "I like her." I bit my tongue. "Well, Carrie," I said. "I think you should probably go on out. I think they'll be serving dinner in a few minutes. I have another batch of cookies to get out of the oven and one more to put in." Carrie was moving toward the doorway when one of the administrators came bustling through. She greeted me with an icy glare and ushered Carrie through the door. "I knew this was a bad idea," she said. "You were to be told not to speak to any of the clients." "Look lady," I bristled. "I was in the kitchen minding my own business. She came in here and started talking to me. It might be in your nature to treat these woman as if they are unworthy of your time and respect but it isn't in mine. I refuse to ignore them and I refuse to be impolite. When she started to talk to me, I answered her. She asked about the cookies I'm baking and I told her. That is the entirety of our conversation. If you don't like it, too damned bad." Monica came into the kitchen and heard my last statement. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't bother Mr. Cavenaugh, Madelyn," Monica said. "He was nice enough to come here and help us." "But he was talking to one of the clients," Madelyn insisted. "I don't care what he is kind enough to do. That is out of line." Monica looked up at me. "As I have explained to this woman," I said tersely, "I spoke only when spoken to. I was unwilling to ignore the woman. That seemed counter-productive to what you should be trying to accomplish here. I didn't see how that would improve her self-image in the slightest." I saw a hint of a smile brush Monica's lips but just as quickly it disappeared. "There you have it," she said. "He didn't go to the dining room nor did he behave inappropriately. Perhaps you overreacted, Madelyn. I'll handle things in here." Madelyn was an unhappy camper when she trooped out of the kitchen. I have to admit that I was slightly perturbed myself. "Sorry about that," Monica said. "That old bat just loves to cause drama. She would be happy if we were somehow able to turn the women here into lesbians. She tried to get us to exclude women who had male children older than 12. Can you believe that shit?" Not surprisingly, I could believe it entirely. "Anyway, Carrie smelled cookies and came in," I said. "Perhaps you should tell the 'clients' that the kitchen is off limits." Monica's face took on a harsh expression. "I can't believe she called them 'clients, '" Monica hissed. "Like we're running an escort service or something. Jesus Christ, they're residents. I hope you understand that not everyone is like Madelyn." "Except for you, everyone I've met from here is," I said evenly. "Kelly isn't," she said with a smile. "Kelly is a bitch," I replied. Then I shook my head. "Sorry about that. It only came out the way I meant it. What I should have said is that Kelly probably would be like that if she found it suited her purposes. Anyway, please apologize to the young lady for me. She was only interested in learning how to decorate cookies. There was nothing unseemly going on." Monica seemed to notice the cookies for the first time. I quelled the urge to slap her hand when she snatched one off the plate. First, I thought it would send the wrong message in a battered-women's shelter. Second, she outweighed me by a hundred pounds or more. ------- It wasn't two minutes after Monica departed when Carrie re-entered the kitchen. "I figure if I get you tossed out on your can, I get all the cookies," she said. Again the kitchen was filled with her laughter. "Seriously, Monica sent me in to tell you that dinner will be served in about 10 minutes and for me to give you a hand with whatever you might need help with." I glanced up in time to see a cookie disappear off the plate into Carrie's mouth. She winced slightly when she started to chew. "Asshole," I heard her mutter under her breath. I wondered if she was talking to me. "I have almost everything ready," I said. "The potatoes are ready to go and the ham and rolls are set. Could you put the green beans into a casserole dish for me?" As Carrie went off toward the stove, I saw the bruises extended to the back of her neck as well. It was with fire and hatred in my eyes that I turned to see Monica in the doorway to the kitchen. She smiled sadly and shook her head. At least she didn't think I was a misogynist. I actually prefer the term misanthrope: I hate everyone equally regardless of gender. "Thanks for sending Carrie into help," I said. "I was running out of hands." "And God knows we don't want him using his feet," Carrie chimed in from behind me. I was amazed that she could maintain a sense of humor after whatever she went through to get to Hope Haven. Perhaps she used humor as a defense mechanism. "Actually, I was getting my ass chewed by some old bag," Carrie informed me. "It appears that I broke a cardinal rule and was actually nice to someone with a penis." She paused for a heartbeat. "You do have a penis, right?" she asked with a laugh. I maintained my dignity by continuing to ice the cookies. "I only ask because this food smells delicious and those cookies look incredible," Carrie continued. "Everyone knows that cooking is woman's work." The last sentence was in a faux husky voice. I shook my head to keep from laughing. "OK, everything is good to go," I announced. "I'll let you folks do the deliveries while I make sure all the gifts are wrapped and get into the Santa suit. Where should I do that, Monica?" Monica pointed me to a room off the kitchen. It was a medium-sized office filled with wrapped presents. They were segregated into children and adult. Only a couple were loose, so I grabbed the wrapping paper and got started. My mind kept wandering to Carrie. Despite her injuries, it was obvious that she was a very attractive woman. Her personality was cute, too. Although I wondered how much of that was real and how much of it was for show. She seemed to have a fire about her and I wondered how a woman like her wound up in a place like this. I had no answers but I wondered how I might be able to get to know more about her. That thought frightened me. First off, I had little to no interest in dating anyone since my divorce. I wasn't interested in testing the matrimonial waters again and most women my age most certainly were hoping to go that route. Secondly, it was a bit disconcerting that I was considering picking up a date at a battered woman's shelter. It seemed to be comparable to landing a date at a family reunion. Either way, you were doing something very wrong. I was shaking my head to clear the thoughts when Monica walked in. "You are an ace wrapper, too," she said Ñ and shook like a bowlful of jelly when she laughed. "Your ex-wife really underplayed your virtues." "She is a horrible judge of character," I said with mock sincerity. "I mean, after all, she married me." Monica smiled for a moment before she spoke. "She's good people," she announced. I knew instantly that she wasn't talking about Kelly. Kelly is not good people. Kelly is a bitch Ñ wait, I might be repeating myself here. "Carrie, I mean," Monica added. "You know who she is, right?" I shook my head. "And you call yourself a newsman," Monica joked. "She's the woman from Malden. The one that lawyer abducted. He beat the hell out of her and burned her house down. She managed to escape here." "Oh," I said. I was a master of witty banter. "She's only here until the insurance money from her house comes in," Monica stated. "And the crime victim's compensation fund," I said angrily. I remembered the brief snippets of the story from the weekend. An attorney in Malden was convicted two years before of investment fraud. He got out of prison on Thursday, tracked down the key witness against him Ñ Carrie Ñ and dragged her out to his car. He torched her house and drove almost 300 miles before she got away Ñ ironically about 2 blocks from my house Ñ when he tried to drag her from the car to a hotel room he had rented. Kelly had dropped the kids off at the house Thursday night on the way to the hospital to see Carrie. "Any chance that asshole will get the death penalty?" I asked no one in particular. "Unfortunately, no," another voice said. It was Carrie. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to talk about you behind your back. Monica was just filling me in on who you were." She smiled her one-tooth-short smile again. "No problem," she said. "I figured you had already guessed. She was giving me your updated stats, too. So, you're a newspaper editor. Sounds interesting." We stood and exchanged small talk for a couple of minutes until it was time for me to change into my Santa suit. "It's a shame all my stuff went up in flames," Carrie said before departing. "I have a great elf costume that I'm sure you'd love. The old hags here would hate it, but you'd love it." It had been years since it happened, but I was pretty sure she was flirting with me. ------- The loot flew out of my hands into the children's Ñ and the "clients'" Ñ hands in record fashion. The kids were awed with the collection of dolls, games and toys. The adults seemed genuinely happy with the collection of clothes and personal items. I have to admit that Kelly had done a great job of selecting things for the children and the women. Carrie performed elf duties without the costume. She would gently touch my arm when I had spent enough time with a child. Otherwise I probably would have been there all night. I was surprised by the intimacy that Carrie showed but the presence of the children kept me from dwelling on it. As the evening wore on, the touches went from my shoulder to my forearm and finally to my hand. Monica was standing off to the side with a bemused expression. Madelyn and another of the die-hard feminists were standing nearby with icy-faced glares and crossed arms. I think they expected me either to feel up one of the children on my lap or to rape one of the "clients" at any moment. When I turned to make my way back the changing area with a healthy "ho, ho, ho" Monica joined in beside me. Carrie wasn't far behind. "That went wonderfully," Monica gushed. "I think Ol' Mr. McDonald has lost his gig as Santa. You were perfect. You spent time with the kids instead of rushing them off your lap. I even saw you signal to Carrie a couple of times when you remembered there was something in the pile that the little one asked for specifically." I shrugged in self-deprecation. "When you wrap two-thirds of the gifts, it's easy to remember what is where," I said. "It also didn't hurt that you wrote the contents on a removable tag," Carrie chimed in. "I was listening pretty closely to the kids, too. It was nice to do something like this. I haven't done anything purely for the joy of others in a long time." Given her buoyant personality, I doubted this. It must have been written on my face. "Serious," Carrie insisted. "I would spend 16 hours a day with numbers. On weekends I would take care of personal things Ñ like laundry, housework and shopping. Come Monday, I was right back to the numbers again. I forgot how nice it is to be around people." I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I can relate," I said. "The only people I'm around either work for me or are my children. My daughter is a teenager and I'm not sure she qualifies as a person. Right now she is just a moody pain in my butt." Both Monica and Carrie laughed at my statement. "Mike, I may have another favor to ask," Monica started. Carrie nodded toward her. "We have more people than we can handle and Carrie really doesn't fit in here," she added. "She is technically not a battered woman. The old crones are bitching and moaning about her staying here Ñ even though it is only for a couple of more nights. But she's stuck. Her purse and credit cards are back in Malden." Carrie decided it was her time to speak. "In ashes. I literally was pepper sprayed when I answered the door and dragged out of the house in my sweat pants and T-shirt," she said with real anger in her voice. "If he hadn't used pepper spray I would have whipped his ass. Honestly, the 'woe-is-me' crowd here galls me. I could never understand why women put up with shit like this and being around a bunch of them hasn't broadened my understanding. From the moment I regained consciousness all I did was plot what I was going to do to that asshole." "I can lend you money for a hotel," I offered. "I mean even though your best friend Kelly takes a huge chunk of my paycheck, I still have a couple of bucks left over." I saw Monica and Carrie exchange glances. "I know your kids are with Kelly," Monica said. "Could you let Carrie stay at your house for a couple of days? You two get along pretty well and I would feel more comfortable if she were around someone she knows. Otherwise, I'll have to recommend that she stays here." I glanced up at Carrie who was smiling. Honestly, I was painted into a corner. I hadn't had an adult in my house in almost five years. I actually enjoyed that fact for the most part. But I couldn't see subjecting anyone to Madelyn and her crew if she had other options. "Sure," I said. "I don't see why not. She even has a choice of Mark's football-shaped bed or Kasey's pseudo-goth room." Carrie's eyes shifted to me. She had an eyebrow raised. "It's not really goth," I said. "It's pseudo-goth. It has black stuff hanging everywhere. But Kasey is too much of a girly-girl to do anything like get a tattoo or her nipple pierced." I was greeted with dual head shakes from Monica and Carrie. "That is not what I was thinking," Carrie said with a smile. "But getting a tattoo is less painful than you might suspect. It depends on the area tattooed. I was thinking a gentleman would offer to allow me to sleep in the master bedroom while he takes the couch." "If you take Kasey's room, you'll have the master bedroom," I said. "It's the biggest room in the house. Believe me, she needed the room." ------- It was an odd arrangement at my house. Carrie had little in the way of luggage Ñ a small duffel bag with a change of underclothes, a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. "Tomorrow morning, we hit the stores," I said. "With what?" Carrie joked. "My looks? I tried that tact and wound up with two pairs of granny panties and a couple of shirts." I shook my head ruefully. "I've got money," I said. "But I swear to God if you tell my ex-wife I will deny it. I can spot you money Ñ enough to rent you a car to get back to Malden. I have enough on my credit card to put you up in a hotel until you can get your life back together." Carrie was silent and she was looking at the table. "I guess probably would be a good plan," she said. "Once I get back there I can send the money back to you. I need to get to a bank, get my credit cards replaced, talk to the insurance company, pick up my car. Jesus, what a fucking mess this is. Sorry about my language." I chuckled. "I've heard the word before," I told her. "And believe me, if anyone is entitled to use the f-word, it's you. But I'd rather you didn't say it in front of my kids." Carrie glanced up from the table top. "You think I'll get to meet your children?" she asked quietly. "I don't know," I answered. "I guess it depends when you want to go back to Malden." I sat there for a moment. "If you don't want to go alone, I can drive you down," I offered. "I've got some time off I can take. We can drive down early one morning, take the afternoon to do what you need to do and then decide what's next." I was in treacherous territory. Carrie had been through a horrible ordeal. She had been beaten, kidnapped and locked in the trunk of her car for hours. She had faced the prospect of her mortality but survived. I didn't want to put pressure on her. But I liked her. "That would be welcomed," she said. "You know, he set my house on fire. I don't have anything to my name. All the clothes I own are in your house. I don't even own a pair of shoes that haven't been worn by someone else. Most of my business files went up in flames. I usually keep them in a fire-proof box but I was working when that asshole showed up. I'm pretty sure that I left the god-damned door open. If I did, my whole career is gone. I have absolutely nothing in this world." I didn't know how to answer so I didn't. "I guess I still have my car," she added. "Thank God I was too fucking lazy to put it in the garage that night. Of course, he might have destroyed it too for all I know." "We'll go back there soon and check it out," I told her. "We'll figure out what you have and what you've lost. Then we'll figure out what's next." Carrie gave a small smile. It still pissed me off that she had lost a tooth. "I guess I've got a friend, too," she said. ------- Chapter 3 I spent the next afternoon researching the attorney that had abducted Carrie. He had been extradited back to Malden the day before. I was appalled to see that the fuck-head had been released on bail. I called the state parole office immediately. "We are aware of the situation," a woman told me after I was transferred around from place to place for 20 minutes. I was calling under the guise of an editor trying to gather information for a story. Unethical? Probably. But I wanted a story out of this and I wanted to know the whereabouts of Robert Lemons. "And?" I asked. "Will he be charged with a parole violation?" "He has been charged with a material violation of his parole," the woman intoned frostily. "So he is back in prison?" I queried. There was silence. "He is in prison, isn't he?" I asked again. "I mean, the bail hearing was publicized. You knew when it was. You knew where to find him. So is he in prison or not?" Again there was silence. "Mr. Lemons has not been apprehended," she admitted. "What!?" I exploded. "You have a man who is accused of abducting a woman, battering her senseless, torching her house and you forgot to show up at his bail hearing. Do I have this straight?" A deep sigh resonated from the other end of the line. "The parole office had no inkling that a judge would allow Mr. Lemons to post bail," she confessed. "We also doubted that he would have the resources to make bail if offered. We were under the impression that Mr. Lemon could be picked up at the county jail at any time. We have a procedure that we have to follow. The paperwork didn't arrive at our office until after Mr. Lemons was gone. We have checked out his last address and it is vacant. We have issued a warrant for his arrest and an APB." "Have you spoken to victim?" I asked. I was pretty sure I knew the answer. "We have not," the woman said. "We don't have a way to reach her." "The police here know where she is," I replied angrily. "Have you contacted the police here?" Again there was silence. "Jesus Christ," I said and slammed the phone down. ------- The drive to Malden was completely enjoyable. Carrie took the news about Robert Lemons stoically. It seemed she almost expected it. "If the state police hadn't nabbed the bastard he would have gotten away," she groused. "The judge in Malden is as corrupt as hell. The DA is a pansy. He quit prosecuting the rich ones because he couldn't get convictions. The state took care of the prosecution but they got pressed into giving him a reduced sentence because he sold out some of his cronies." "What did he do?" I asked. "He bilked a couple of estates," she said. "A couple of old folks let him have power of attorney and he took advantage of them. He stole about all they had. No one found out until the old folks died. Then the shit hit the fan. They brought the books to me. I found the discrepancies — and there were a lot of them. The guy wasn't slick. He stole because he thought no one would notice and if they did notice the judge would back him." "That's a mess," I said. "Are you the only one to testify?" Carrie shook her head. "But I was the one with the answers," she said. "I was the one who did the forensic accounting. I was the one who put his ass in prison." She was still shaking her head. "I mean, what the hell," she continued. "He knew what he was doing. You don't steal that much money without knowing it. You don't transfer that amount of money from one person's account to your own without knowing it. You don't do the stuff he did and not know it. He got caught. He screwed up and got caught. And suddenly it's my fault." It was my turn to shake my head. "What is the schedule for when we get there?" I asked. "I want to go by the house," Carrie said sadly. "I need to stop and see if the fire department found anything. Then we hit the insurance company and the bank." The rest of the trip was spent singing along with the radio, joking with one another and telling funny stories. The joviality ended a few blocks from Carrie's house. I could understand her nervousness. "How about we park a block or two away," I said. "No one will recognize it or think to look for you in my car. I'll walk down to the house and glance around. After I'm sure everything is OK I'll come back and get you." Carrie looked at me and smiled. The missing tooth still pissed me off and I almost hoped I could have a little talk with one Robert Lemons my damned self. I parked on a side street and left Carrie in the car. I had downloaded the mug shot of Robert Lemons and I'll be fucked in the ear hole if I didn't walk right past the son of a bitch sitting in a car across from the remnants of Carrie's house. I shook my head incredulously. I walked a little way past Lemons' car and turned the block. I stopped behind a tree and dialed the Parole Office. "Hey, I hear you're looking for Robert Lemons," I said. "I'm standing here watching him." It took only a moment before I was talking to his parole officer. "You'll never guess where that bastard is," I said. "C'mon, guess." There was no answer on the other end. "OK, I'll tell you any way," I said. "He is sitting in a car with the license number E42349 right across the street from Carrie Walton's house. I say that only because I just drove Carrie to pick up her car and lo and behold there he was. I guess it didn't occur to you to think he might come back to finish the job when she came to pick up her car. You guys are a joke." There was again no answer. "So, here's the deal," I said. "I assume you'll be sending cops to pick him up. But if you don't have someone here in five minutes, I'm going to drag him out of the car and you can pick him up at the hospital." "He is probably armed," the woman said hastily. "Don't do anything rash. We've notified the local police and they are on their way." The "armed" part gave me pause. "You're still a joke," I said evenly — mostly so I get my pride back. I liked Carrie but not enough to tangle with an armed psychopath. Give it a few days and maybe I would. But not just yet. In an amazingly idiotic move, the local police came screaming down the road with lights flashing and sirens that could be heard a half mile away. I shook my head sadly as I watched Robert Lemons pull from the curb and drive away. I gave him the finger as he drove past but I don't think he noticed. If he was armed, I sort of hoped he didn't. The cops stopped outside of Carrie's burned out house and looked around. "He drove off, you idiots," I said as I walked up. "He heard the sirens and left about two minutes ago. He drove down the street and turned right. The freeway entrance is that way, isn't it?" A young officer took umbrage at the "idiot" remark. An older officer seemed to understand. "The 10-19 didn't go out until a moment ago," the older office said. "We were told that a suspect was spotted outside of the Walton house and we responded. It was a rookie mistake." The young officer was red faced and he stalked back to his cruiser. "You the man who called 911?" the older officer asked. "I didn't call 911," I answered. "I called his parole officer. She is the one who alerted your office." I gave the men Lemons' license number. It had not been included in the report. "His P.O. in on it with him?" I asked. The cop looked up and pursed his lips. "I'm not sure," he answered. "She couldn't do any more for him if she were," I answered with a slight laugh. "Why don't you do me a favor and look over Carrie's car for me. Lemons was staring pretty intently and it wasn't at the ashes." The older cop raised his eyes. "Let me call the state police," he answered. "They have bomb-sniffing dogs and shit." ------- I walked back to Carrie who was sitting white-faced in my car. She was hunched down and I could barely see the top of her head above the dash. "Your car is going to have to wait," I said. "I heard the sirens," she said. There were tears in her eyes. "Your fire-proof safe was closed," I said. "It's at the fire department. We can go pick it up and you can stay with me until Lemons is caught. I got a decent computer and I can always requisition a laptop from work if you need to use mine full time. Why don't we get your bank stuff straight and we'll head back home." Carrie smiled slightly. "And a dentist," I said. "We need to get you to a dentist before they can't put your tooth back. Every time I see that gap it angers me greatly." "I can stop smiling," she said. "Nah," I replied. "I'd rather you smile more often. But a dentist wouldn't hurt either." ------- Jesus, I hate bureaucracy. Because every single thing she owned was in ashes, Carrie had no way to verify her identity. The fact that her picture was in the paper for two solid days didn't matter. The bank, the insurance company nor the fire department would talk to her without photo ID. The state DMV wouldn't reissue a driver's license without a Social Security Card and a birth certificate. And Social Security Department and the courthouse wouldn't issue either without a photo ID. We spent the night in a motel in Malden. Neither of us was in a very good mood. I sat down and filled out a Freedom of Information request for a copy of birth certificates for every female born in the county in 1977. I could have simply asked for a copy of Carrie's — because birth certificates are public records (whether the county liked it or not) — but the Circuit Clerk had pissed me off. It wouldn't be official because it would lack the state's raised seal. But it would be enough to get things going for Carrie. I didn't care if it took a year for those lazy cocksuckers to compile the records. As soon as they were done, I would pick them up, sort out Carrie's and drop the rest in the trash. At least that was my plan. When I walked in to file the FOI request, the clerk took one look at it and immediately brought me a copy of Carrie Walton's birth certificate. She even put the seal on it without comment and at no cost. They usually charged an extra $15 for the 9 seconds it took her to emboss it. From there, we headed to the Social Security Administration Office and were told it would be 6-8 weeks before a replacement card would be issued. The fire department relented and gave Carrie her property — which consisted entirely of a small safe. Inside the safe we found a driver's license that had expired in 1998 but it was enough to get a new photo ID. Not a driver's license, mind you, but only a photo ID. At least the dentist agreed to replace Carrie's missing tooth before he tried to cut through the red tape with the insurance company. Of course he took my credit card number just in case. ------- After two days in Malden I was honestly looking forward to being somewhere else. I had never seen a more chickenshit place in my life. The cops were chickenshit; the courts were chickenshit; the fire department was chickenshit; the administration was chickenshit. I was so fucking angry I felt like I had just spent 20 solid hours with my ex-wife. The topper was when the agent that held Carrie's homeowner's policy informed her that the company was conducting its own investigation into the fire and the check would be delayed. "That's nice," I said. "You know, I think I recall a couple of public interest lawyers who love this shit. You better notify your parent company that things are about to get dicey." The man smirked. "Oh, not in the shithole," I said. "Back where I'm from. City folk. We just love tearing down you country fucks. I'm really going to enjoy this. I bet Josie Ayers is going to love this even more." The smirk disappeared but he still smiled. "I don't think Josie Ayers is going to get involved in this," he said. I shrugged and pulled out my cell phone. I hated to do it, but I had to call in the big guns. I called my ex-wife. "Hey, it's me," I said. "I'm in Malden with Carrie Walton." I listened as my ex-wife played 25 questions. Of course, she didn't give me the opportunity to answer. But it didn't keep her from asking the questions. "Listen," I finally interrupted. "I need Josie's number. Carrie is getting the run-around down here from these pig fucker's and I'd like Josie to try to reason with them." Now Kelly was pissed. "What do you mean she's getting the run around?" I filled her in on some of the details. I didn't answer any questions about why I was here with Carrie. "Give me the number of the office," she said. "I'll call Josie and we'll have a conference call." Great, now Kelly was jumping in. "Why not just give me Josie's number," I said. "I have it at home but obviously I'm not there. We'll call it even on the Christmas dinner thing at the shelter." There was a long pause on the line. "What's going on down there?" Kelly asked. "Just give me the fucking number," I hissed. "I swear to Christ I have had it up to my eyeballs with idiots and you are on my last God-damned nerve already." Carrie pulled the cell phone from my hand. A moment later she was calling Josie Ayers. Two minutes after that we were sitting in the insurance adjuster's office watching him turn paler by the minute. I could hear Josie yelling at him over the telephone and I was five feet away. Carrie, for her part, was just sitting smugly. "I am so ready to get out of here," she said. "Maybe I should look at this as an opportunity. This weekend is Christmas Eve and it looks as though it might be a decent one for a change. I might go visit with Kelly while your children are with you. She seemed surprised that you're down here." "Probably shocked that I would do anything decent for someone else without asking for compensation," I rejoined. I think I mentioned the relationship I have with my ex-wife. ------- Chapter 4 "Mike, I appreciate what you've done," Carrie told me on the drive back home. "But I'm not someone you have to save. I can take care of myself and I'm used to handling problems myself." Her voice wasn't angry. There was no hint of unhappiness there. It was a simple statement of fact to Carrie. And I felt like an ass. I drove quietly for a few moments as I reflected on the past three or four days. The longer I reflected the more I felt like an ass. "Sorry about that," I replied sheepishly. "I don't normally act that way." It was the best I could offer. "I think part of it is my real personality," I continued. "I mean, I'm not a control freak but I do tend to get things done. I think another part is the fact that I want to impress you. And I think a part of it just the fact that I am pretty angry about the whole situation and passing that anger on to other people, like the fine folks at the DMV, is necessary. "I realize, of course, that you deserve the opportunity to be angry with people, too. But, hell, maybe I should have just stopped at 'Sorry.'" "I'm not mad," Carrie said gently. "You've really done a lot. And I meant it when I said I appreciate it. I wouldn't have thought of file a public-records request for my birth certificate. I wouldn't have thought to call the DMV and see if my expired license could work as proof of ID. So I probably would have been calling you about those things anyway. "All I'm trying to say is that I don't want things to get started badly. I don't want you to think I'm some doormat that people can just walk over. I don't want you to think that I can't stand up for myself. I told you I'm not one of the 'woe-is-me' crowd." I was nodding my head as she spoke. But I didn't speak. It was a thoughtful few minutes in my car before Carrie spoke again. "You certainly do seem to have a lot of answers," she said. Then she punched me on the arm. I think she wanted to show she wasn't upset — something I think I had already recognized — and that we were still friends. "I have answers but I rarely know the questions," I replied. My remark was greeted with a slight chuckle. It was more than it deserved. "I'll admit that I was overwhelmed when I saw the cops tearing down my street yesterday," she said. "I'm certain that when you found me, hunched over in the seat was when your Papa Bear mentality kicked in. But I'm not a frail waif you've rescued off the street. I just didn't want you to think that you're going to have to go through life slaying dragons and battering down doors on my behalf." I glanced over at her for a moment. "I wasn't pouting, if that's what you think," I said defensively. "Mostly I was thinking about how big a jerk I've been the past couple of days. I didn't mean to usurp control of your life from you. I understand what you're saying and I agree with you." "Oh," Carrie replied. ------- The conversation turned to my life after a few more minutes of silence. I gave it a general treatment: Married at 20, divorced at 32, two kids, etc. Carrie seemed to want to delve further. "What caused the divorce?" she asked. "Disinterest," I replied. It was my standard offering and I barely missed a beat. It also happened to be true. "That's a strange answer," Carrie remarked. "We were kids when we got married," I told her. "In all probability we never would have married the other if Kasey hadn't come along. Neither of us wanted to be married and we certainly didn't want to be married to the person we wound up with. Our personalities are totally different and they became more divergent as we grew up and expanded our interests." "You seemed saddened by that," she replied. I would have to say she was right. There were parts of my life that I found very unsettling — and not just in terms of self interest. Kelly's life had been thrown off course by our lack of foresight. My life turned out pretty much the same as I expected it to because I truly didn't have very high aspirations. Kelly, on the other hand, came from a family of success. Her father was an architect and her mother was an author. Her brother was a corporate CEO and her sister was a national marketing director. Kelly was almost 40 and she hadn't been able to leave her mark on the world — with the exception of raising a pair of pretty terrific kids. For me, that would have been enough. For her parents, it was enough. They thought the sun rose and set with our children. Kasey and Mark were their only grandchildren and Kelly's parents treated them like royalty. It wasn't enough for Kelly. Before we married she had hoped to be a doctor — a medical doctor, not a Ph.D. But she was smart enough to understand the rigors of med school and residency wouldn't coincide well with being a parent. She also understood that our financial situation would preclude me from being primary caretaker to our kids while she gained her M.D. Instead she opted for sociology. In all honesty, I have only a vague idea of what sociologists do. I understand they study the structure of society but outside of that I'm pretty much clueless. I guess that explains my disinterest statement pretty well. Carrie listened intently as I spoke. "So you would have been happy being a stay-at-home dad?" she asked. "Eminently," I replied. Every time I thought of doing that, a smile lit my face. This time was no exception. "Wow," Carrie exclaimed. "That might be the first real smile I've seen from you in two days. So, why didn't you do that? I mean, from the start." I sighed. "A multitude of reasons," I answered. "I was a year ahead of Kelly so I was closer to my degree and the workforce. Kelly still harbored dreams of medical school until reality set in when Kasey was about 3. By that time she had friends who were second- and third-year residents and she saw them coming apart at the seams. She was only a sophomore when she got pregnant and she was planning to return to school in the fall. She switched chemistry to a minor and picked sociology as her major. Of course, she didn't count on the dearth of jobs for sociologists in the real world — just as my political science degree is worthless. So she got her master's then her doctorate." I gave a grim chuckle. "I think she only did that because she had ordered stationary when she was 12 with Dr. Kelly Wells on it. She didn't want it to go to waste." "It would explain the divorce, too," Carrie said humorously. "Oh, wait. She didn't change her name back to Wells." There was a pause. "That seems strange," she continued. "I've only met Kelly a couple of times but she seems to harbor somewhat feminist views. I would have expected her to retake her maiden name." I bit my lip. "A part of that is my fault but not all of it," I said. Carrie gave the motion for me to continue. "The kids," I said. "At first, I refused to let her change the kids' names. She planned to retake her maiden name and she wanted to add a hyphen to the kids' names. I refused because she was being such a bitch about visitation. I mean, I eventually relented but Kasey put her foot down. She said there was no way she was changing her name and that she would fight her mother in every way possible to prevent it. She was maybe 14 years old. She went so far as to contact an attorney. I guess that pretty much left Kelly being a Cavenaugh whether she wanted it or not." "I like that kid already!" Carrie said. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I loved my daughter with all my heart. But there were times when she tried my patience mightily. "She can be standoffish," I said diplomatically. "She is not always considerate of other people's feelings and she tends to shoot from the hip with her comments. She refuses to backtrack even when she's been proven wrong and she tends to say things just to hurt people. She does this mostly with her mother and I find the disrespect she shows Kelly to be troublesome. I've tried to intervene but Kelly always insists that she understands that Kasey is upset with the way the divorce was handled. She seems to think she'll get over it eventually. I have my doubts." I think my turn to a serious subject caught Carrie off guard. "Are there other trouble spots with Kasey?" she asked. "I mean is she rebellious in other ways?" "You mean does she smoke pot, drink or screw around," I said. "Not to my knowledge. She has never been picked up for shoplifting. Her boyfriends are all seemingly normal guys. She brings them by to meet me before their first dates. It is not a rule but she does it anyway. It's funny, she is very open with me. Probably more so than I prefer. I really missed so much of her early life. I don't think she tells me things just for the shock value but some of them shock me nonetheless." "Such as, if I'm not intruding?" Carrie asked. I sighed and frowned. "She is sexually active," I said. "Dads don't really want to know that. Dads don't need to know that stuff. But she came to me to discuss it. She wanted my opinion and she wanted to talk about things. It was a pretty adult conversation and one I wasn't prepared for. I would be more comfortable talking with Mark about it. But when it came time to go the gynecologist for birth control pills and a check up, Kasey asked me to go with her. I think it was only then that I realized that being a parent means doing a hell of a lot of things you don't want to." "But you went," Carrie said. Her tone of voice didn't lead me to believe it was a question. "Of course," I answered anyway. I could see her smile even in the darkened car. "Of course," she echoed. "I don't think you get some of it. My dad was sort of like you. He worked so much and that just made the time we spent together so much more special. At least to me. I cherished each and every moment that we shared because I understood how much he was doing just to make sure that we could afford summer camps and braces. My mom was around all the time so I tended to take her for granted. "But Kelly is going to have understand that Kasey is always going to resent the fact that she took her away from you for so long. Then you gave up your life to move closer to her. You agreed to start your life over with nothing just so you could be closer to her. She is old enough to understand what her mother did and how you responded. She respects you for coming closer to her because she couldn't move closer to you. "It strengthened what she already thought about you — that you would give up anything for her — and she'll never forget it." I hazarded a glance to my right. There were tears glistening in Carrie's eyes when the headlights from a passing car caught them. She wiped them and smiled slightly. "It hits a little close to home for me," she said. "My mom left my dad when I was 10. We moved away and she married someone else. She expected me to just transfer my affection like she had. For three years, I rarely saw my dad. He would come down when he could but it wasn't often. Then one Friday he picked me up at school. We drove to a house on the other side of town and he told me he had retired and moved there. He gave up his career because being closer to me was more important to him that money. "When I turned 16 I petitioned the courts to give him custody. My mom didn't take the news well. In fact, she refused to speak to me again. A year or so after I moved in with dad, she moved away and I haven't spoken to her since. She never accepted the fact that it was her doing that led to the rift between us. I was too young to have a say in the matter and as soon as I was old enough, I made sure everyone heard what I had to say." Carrie glanced at me and put her hand on my arm. "I'm surprised Kasey hasn't done that, from what you've told me," she said. "I think she might have if it wasn't for Mark," I answered. "I really worried about resentment on Kasey's part. But there never was — at least from what I saw. She is a great sister, I can tell you that." I chuckled ruefully. "I also think Mark was an effective form of birth control for her," I said. "She was old enough to feel the pain of 2 a.m. feedings and smell the pain of diaper changes. She loves her brother but she doesn't want one of her own. In fact, that is one of the major bones of contention between her and Kelly." Carrie had slid closer and was listening intently. "Kasey refuses to be a live-in nanny," I explained. "She baby sits occasionally but she expects to be paid. I can't really blame her. Kelly called once while Kasey was at my house. She wanted Kasey to come home to watch Mark. Kasey told Kelly she had plans and she couldn't. I guess Kelly demanded Kasey change her plans. That didn't go well. Kasey told her to think about if the situation were reversed. 'He is your responsibility, ' she said. 'If he was my kid, he would be my responsibility. He isn't. So if you want to do something, find a baby sitter or take him to Dad's.'" Carrie was nodding and listening. "I screwed up because I took Kelly's side," I continued. "It's rare but there are times when I agree with Kelly. Kasey turned on me like a rattlesnake. I saw the error of my thinking pretty quickly and her argument made sense. "'You don't do that, ' she told me. 'You ask me if it is convenient for me. If it isn't, you make other arrangements. If it was an emergency, I would go home and watch him. Just like I do when you get called in to the office. But he is not my son. He is your son. He is her son. Say I had a kid in two or three years. How would you like it if I called you and insisted you change your plans to watch my son or daughter?' "I guess it finally made sense. I don't ask Kasey to watch Mark often. Only in an emergency but those are rare. Usually I'll just take him with me wherever I go. He is pretty low maintenance. He's a really good kid. Kasey is, too, now that I think about it. She's just growing up and I don't think I like it. I worry about something happening to her." "What about you?" Carrie asked. I didn't understand the question. "You worry about Kasey's future," she clarified. "What about your future? Do you worry about that?" I shook my head. "My future went up in smoke 17 years ago," I said. I didn't mean it in a bitter fashion and I don't think Carrie took it that way. "My future became caring for three people I never expected — or probably even wanted — to care for. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids. I think a part of me loves Kelly, too. A small part, mind you, but it's hard to be around someone for half your life without developing an affection for them. My mom and dad were happily married for 40 years. Mom died of lung cancer seven or eight years ago and Dad died of a broken heart about five months later. He had never conceived of having to live without her so he wasn't able to. I had hopes of that with Kelly. But those hopes ended quickly. Kelly kept me around because I provided the means for her to pursue her career. "As soon as she no longer needed me, I was out. Six months after she got her doctorate, I was served with divorce papers. I think it galled her that I had the temerity to force her to let me be a part of my kid's life — and by extension, hers. I guess she figured I would show the same interest in Mark's life as I had in Kasey's. Even if I didn't at the outset, history dictated that some project would take me away again. It always did in the past. "I started out as a sports writer. I would be gone two or three nights a week. Then I moved up to covering Major League Baseball. There would be four-city road trips and even when I was home I wasn't home much. We were on the West Coast then. I would be in Atlanta, then Houston and Chicago. Then I would be home for 10 or 11 days but gone 8 evenings during that time. I think sometimes that Kelly and I never got the chance to grow together because we were always apart. By the time I was able to spend every night at home, we had already developed different interests. She had her friends, I had mine. She volunteered at places like Hope Haven. I went out to watch games at a sports bar. Honestly, we were too different even to develop much of a friendship. The only thing we shared was Kasey and I wasn't around much to share in that." For some reason I felt comfortable talking to Carrie. The things I shared during that car ride were things I had never shared with anyone. The five years since the divorce had left me a lot of time to reflect on the past 20 years. I tend not to dwell much on things that I can't change but sometimes things like that slipped through. "How did you two meet?" Carrie asked. I had to think for a minute. Then I blushed. "She picked me up in a bar," I answered. "We spent the night together, then a couple of more before we ever went out. At some point, we moved in together. But you remember how college was. Everything was so surreal. I had no concept of how the real world worked. I thought everyone was entitled to a perfect life. When Kelly told me she was pregnant, I remember thinking that it couldn't be true. Things like that didn't happen to people like us. Guess what. They do. As I mentioned, we had never discussed marriage or even the future. Each was a pleasant enough diversion for the other but there were no real feelings there. At least on my part there weren't." "And yet you got married," Carrie said. "More out of necessity than out of desire," I replied. "Her parents about had a fit. Well, her mother did. We, Kelly and I, talked about an abortion. But those cost money and the only source of income she had was her parents. My parents would never have considered the request. It would have been turned down flat. My folks were older than most. They grew up in 1940s. My Dad was in his 40s when I was born and my Mom was in her late 30s. Abortion and divorce were foreign to folks that age. It was their kids — the Flower Power types of the 60s — that introduced those concepts into the masses. Hell, my father's younger brother was a grandfather a year after my Dad became a father. My folks' answer when I told them Kelly was pregnant was pretty much what I expected: get married and raise the kid. "I was surprised when Kelly's parents suggested the same solution. They were younger and, I thought at the time, more progressive than my parents. But her mom was adamant about Kelly not having an abortion. I think she knew even then that it might be her only chance to be a grandmother. Kelly's father was insistent that his grandchild be legitimate. So we got married. "In hindsight, I think our parents wished they would have reacted differently. I know for a fact that mine did. My mother saw how unhappy I was. She saw how Kelly and I didn't do much together. Kelly's parents saw the same things. But that is the life my in-laws had led from the start so they thought things would even out for us. When Mark came along, I think they were certain that things would work out. I think they were as surprised as I was when Kelly filed for divorce." "Why were you surprised?" Carrie asked. "You told me that neither of you were happy." I shrugged. "It was all we knew," I replied. "It was the life we'd led our entire adult lives. And there were moments of happiness. There were moments of affection between us. I don't want to give the impression that our lives were filled with hatred toward the other. That didn't come until after the divorce. I believe that Kelly simply decided that she wasn't going to live the next 12 years as she had lived the last ones. We were stuck in a rut. Even though Kelly would be a professor and not a student, she would still be going to class every other day. I would still be getting up to go to work. Kasey would still be going to school and Mark to daycare. I think I'm the one who threw a monkey wrench into the plans." "How did you do that?" Carrie wondered. "I started being home more often," I said. "I started to take an interested in my kids' lives and Kelly's, too. I started offering to go places with her and do things that she liked to do. I stopped going out with my co-workers and started coming home to watch the kids so we wouldn't have to hire a baby sitter. I stopped going into the office on weekends so we could do family stuff. The change upset the delicate balance we had. Kelly could have probably survived a dozen more years of marriage if we had kept away from each other. But the togetherness thing I think sort of showed her what she was missing. I think she wanted to do all the things we had planned to do but she wanted to do them with someone who wasn't me." Carrie's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't mean she was having affairs?" she said. "She didn't seem like the type to do that." "I don't think she was," I answered after a moment's thought. "If she was, I didn't know about them. I'm not sure I would have cared if she would have." "Did you?" she asked. "No," I answered. "But again, that is perhaps only because the opportunity didn't present itself. But then again, maybe not. Fidelity was something else my parents instilled in me. No, I think Kelly saw — maybe for the first time — what her life could have been like. If she had married someone she loved and someone who was more of a partner to her than I was. I think that is what she wanted for her future." "Has she remarried?" Carrie asked. "I mean, her last name is still Cavenaugh but that doesn't mean anything. After what you told me, I mean, she might not have wanted to change her name." "She's dated a few people," I told her. "Some seriously, I think. I don't really delve too much into her personal life. So long as the person she is with treats the kids well, I'm OK with whatever she does. If there is an issue with the kids then it becomes my problem. Until then, it is her decision." Carrie was silent for a few moments. I understood that she was formulating her next statement when she spoke a minute later. "Kelly was more than surprised that you and I were in Malden together," she said. "She seemed rather displeased with the situation. She asked, somewhat abruptly, if I was planning to spend the holidays with her family." I truly didn't care if Kelly was displeased or not. This harkens back to the oft-mentioned relationship we have. I also doubted she included me in the "family" portion of the discussion. I also didn't want the cart in front of the horse. "Regardless of what Kelly wants, if you want to spend the holidays with me and the kids, you're welcome," I said. "Mark pretty much loves everybody and I'm certain Kasey would welcome a conversation with a female who also was sane." Silence filled the car again. "And you?" Carrie finally asked. I blurted out my answer before I thought. "I don't think I would mind if you never went back to Malden," I said. ------- Chapter 5 It was already dark when we got back to my house — not a surprise since it seemed to get dark at 3 p.m. I should mention that I hate winter, too. Kasey was sitting in my living room with a huge smile on her face. It was surprising on a number of levels. First, I didn't expect her back for a few more days. Secondly, she rarely came to my house when I wasn't home. Third, it was rare to see her smile. "I'm supposed to scope out what's going on here," she said conspiratorially. "Sure, Mom gave me a list of excuses I could use for being back in town — setting things up for Christmas, last-minute shopping — but I know the real reason. Hi, I'm Kasey, by the way." Carrie smiled warmly at my daughter. "I've heard a lot about you," she said. "Your father talks about you all the time." Kasey shifted her gaze toward me. "What?" I asked. "Sharing family details all ready," she said. "Way to go, Dad!" I rolled my eyes. "We have spent seven hours in a car over the past two days," I said. "The conversation had to turn to you eventually. My job only took up 10 minutes. What was I supposed to talk about after that?" Not surprisingly, Kasey ignored me. "Did you get things straightened up down there?" she asked Carrie. Carrie shrugged. "Somewhat," she said. "My life is still in tatters at this point but at least now I have the shreds to start putting them together." Kasey nodded her understanding. I wondered how she could possibly understand anything. To this point in her life, I thought, her biggest disappointment was failing to make the varsity volleyball team as a sophomore. "Uh, what are the sleeping arrangements?" I asked. "Carrie has been staying in your room. Are you here or at your mom's?" "Here," Kasey said with a hint of disgust. "Like Mom would allow me to stay by myself. I mean, c'mon, I'm only 17. It's not like I'm a senior in high school or anything." Carrie chuckled but I sighed. It was another sore spot between mother and daughter. It was also something I had no intention of intervening in — on either's behalf. "OK, Carrie, trot your stuff to room across the hall," I said. Carrie and Kasey just stared at me. "What?" I asked. "You want the football bed? That's fine. Or are you sleeping in Mark's bed tonight, Kase?" Recognition dawned on two faces about the same time as it settled into my brain. "I'll be on the couch out here," I said quickly. I had barely gotten myself comfortable on the couch when Kasey rejoined me in the living room. "Scootch," she said as she tried to wiggle her way in front of me. I complied — as I had hundreds of times before. It had been several years since Kasey and I had cuddled on the couch. When she was younger it was something she did every chance she got. But as she grew older and into puberty, the snuggle time had decreased. By the time of the divorce, it had ended completely. I'll admit that I had missed it. "How are you doing, Daddy?" she asked softly. "I'm good," I said I lightly stroked her hair as I did when she was 10. "How are you?" "OK," she answered. "This is nice." I agreed but I still didn't understand why she was here. Not that I minded. "She seems nice," Kasey said after a few minutes. "She is," I answered. "Do you like her?" she asked. "Of course, otherwise I wouldn't be helping her," I answered. "No, I mean like her, like her," she said. "Is this part of your fishing expedition?" I wondered. "No, not really," she replied. "I'm not going to tell Mom anything anyway. This is about a daughter worried that her Daddy has been alone too long and he's jumping into something." Kasey rolled over to face me before continuing. "I've never understood why you didn't remarry, Daddy," she said. "Do you know that every fun memory I have from my life involves you? Don't you know how many women would love to find a man like you?" I felt warring emotions. "Sweetie, your memories are probably caused by the fact that I wasn't there very much," I answered sadly. "I tried to make up for my lack of participation by doing all the fun stuff with you. Your Mom got stuck with all the grunt work. She got stuck teaching you to be the adult you are now. I got the fun parts; she got the work." "Not all my memories are fun," she said. "I remember a lot of times when you were harder on me that Mom was. I remember all the times when you were the one who sat me down to talk to me about something. I remember that you were the one to talk to me about boys and the dangers of drugs. Mom was harder on me but most of her rules were stupid and her punishments didn't make sense. They still don't. With you, if I'm 10 minutes late for curfew I lose my car privileges for a week. With her, if I'm 10 minutes late I can't leave the house for a week." I leaned forward and kissed my little girl on the forehead. Another issue that Kelly and I had encountered was a difference in our parenting styles — not that I had much of a style before the divorce. "Just because they're different punishments doesn't make one stupid," I replied. "Your Mom is doing the best she can for you." "That's another thing," Kasey said quickly. "You never say anything bad about her. She talks about you like you're a dog sometimes. She doesn't do it in front of me but I can hear her talking to her friends. I can hear her when she doesn't think anyone is around." I smiled slightly. "And you think that I don't talk about her that way?" I asked. "It's just that you're with her more than you are with me. It's an 11 in 14 chance that if one of us says something nasty about the other it will be her you hear." Kasey met my smile. "So, you're not jumping into something because you're lonely?" she asked to get back on topic. "Maybe," I replied truthfully. "I really enjoyed the last two days. It was different — different than what your Mom and I had. Carrie and I talked a lot and got to know each other a little. We joked and picked on the other. I honestly didn't realize that I was lonely until the last couple of days. Now I'm starting to think I was lonely even when I was married." I saw a tear in the corner of Kasey's eye. "Do you regret marrying Mom?" she asked. "It depends on how you mean that," I said. "If you mean do I regret having you in my life then no. I don't regret that for a moment and I never have. If you mean do I think it might have been better — for both of us — if we'd had decided to be separate parents from the beginning then yes. I think I would have been forced to be more a part of your life if I hadn't had your mother to rely on. Like now, I know that every other weekend you'll be here. I look forward to it and I make sure that my schedule doesn't interfere. I think your mother would be a much happier person if we hadn't gotten married. She would have been able to build a life with someone she loved instead of with me." It was an unusually serious conversation with my daughter. We had had them before but for some reason I felt like her peer rather than her father. I guess she was growing up — or I was regressing (something we can't disregard). "And so could you," Kasey said. "You know for the last five years your whole life has been about us. The only days you're off, you're with us. The only time you're away is when you're at work or we're all on vacation. I heard you laughing when you came up the walk, Daddy. It was a nice sound." I rolled my eyes. "You've heard me laugh before," I said firmly. "I've heard you laugh when I knew Mark or I caused it," she said. "I've never heard you laugh when we weren't around to cause it. "Daddy, I want to hear you laugh like that more often." ------- The sound of voices raised me from my slumber. I hate sleeping on the couch in any instance but after my conversation with Kasey the night before it had taken some time to slow my mind down. In short, I got about four hours of sleep. I require at least 7 to be human and 9 to be a functioning human. It was another part of my post-matrimony metamorphosis. With a grunt I arose and looked around for the offending voices. It was a futile gesture. There were only two other people in the house. "Watch it, he's a bear in the mornings," I heard Kasey say. I grunted my assent. "I found him to be very pleasant of the mornings," Carrie replied. "He was a bear during the afternoons though. Maybe he needed a nap." That brought a peel of laughter from my daughter. I felt my temper relax — somewhat. "If I'm stuck on the couch, perhaps I would be less of a bear if the occupants of the house were a little quieter," I said — partly in jest. I walked into the kitchen and saw Kasey and Carrie were sitting at the table drinking tea. Both were smiling broadly at me. I was happy to see Carrie's temporary crown closed the gap in her grin. "We've been up for two hours," Carrie said. "We were quiet as church mice until we decided it was time for you to greet the day." "Dibs on the shower," Kasey said as she sprang to her feet. She kissed me on my cheek and said "Morning, Daddy," before she wandered down the hall. Kasey was also not known for her cheerfulness in the early hours. "Second dibs," Carrie chimed in. "Dad's left stinky," Kasey sing-songed from the down the hall. I sat down opposite Carrie. "There is a little girl who loves her Daddy," she said through her smile. "And she is very protective of him, too." I smiled ruefully. "She gave me the third degree," Carrie said. "She actually asked what my intentions were toward you. I told her I planned to use you, abuse you and discard you. She told me that she only wanted to me sure I did it right." I shook my head and smiled. "Am I really the first person you've spent time with since your divorce?" she asked. "Probably since before my divorce," I answered. "I think I mentioned that I had trouble making a connection with people." I capped my sentence with a shrug. "I feel honored," Carrie said. "You should," I joked. Carrie responded by sticking her tongue out then giggling madly. "I don't want this to come out the wrong way but I'm almost glad I wound up here," she said. "I could do without the pepper spray in the eyes and the bruises are still a little tender but I think I would be willing to do it again if it meant I got the chance to meet you. I didn't realize how empty my life was until the past few days." I was ill prepared for serious conversation before a cup of coffee. I suspected something this serious might require two or more. "I was thinking something similar," I replied. A smile graced Carrie's face. "Sure, I get the Mace and the ass-whipping," she said with a laugh. "How about if the situations were reversed." "That's not what I meant," I said quickly. "I meant I really never understood what was missing from my life." "I got that impression from our talk in the car," Carrie answered. "And Kasey pretty much said the same thing. It's funny that it took something like this for us to realize it." "I don't really find it very humorous," I said. "In fact, the whole situation really pisses me off. Unless Lemons did some serious weight lifting in the joint, I'm pretty sure I can take him. I'm also pretty sure I'd like to get the chance." "You get second dibs on that one, too," Carrie said vehemently. "I wasn't kidding when I said if he hadn't pepper sprayed me I would have been the one doling out the ass whippings that night. By the way, remind me to buy some of that stuff. I swear to God, as soon as it hit my eyes I was in agony. You might want to pick up some for Kasey to carry on her key chain." I nodded thoughtfully. It might make a nice Christmas gift. Nothing says I love you like personal protection devices. "My dad got me involved in tae kwon do," Carrie said sadly. "I miss him so much sometimes — especially this time of year." I had wanted to ask Carrie about her father the night before but I could tell talking about him caused her distress. "How long has he been gone?" I asked. "Two years ago," she said. "Right after Asshole's trial. He had been sick for a while and one day I stopped by and he didn't answer the door. He died in his favorite chair. The coroner said he probably had died peacefully in his sleep." "I'm sorry," I said truthfully. "I know how tough it is. Even though my parents were so much older than my friends' parents, it still hurt a lot when they died." A small rueful smile made its way to my lips. Carrie noticed immediately. "What?" "That time, you know, with Mom and Dad passing away with a few months of each other, that was when I felt closest to Kelly in our whole time together," I replied. "She was really great that whole time. Kasey, too. They were right beside me the whole time. I think Kasey curled up on my lap every evening before bed. Kelly was very supportive of me. She just let me do what I needed to do to get through it. I'm not a very emotional person. She had seen me angry during our marriage. She'd seen me happy. She'd even seen me jealous a few times. But she'd never seen me sad. I probably shouldn't tell you this because it makes me sound like a nut, but I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've cried since I was 12 or 13. Well, I can if you count those few months as one time. Because I pretty much cried all the time. Especially Mom. Man, that hurt, well, that hurt more than my divorce but less than not seeing my kids. That's about the only way I can put it. She was diagnosed in June and died in September. Hell, she didn't even tell me until late August. I only had a month to let her know how much she meant to me. Dad, well, Dad I expected. I guess I was sort of surprised it took as long as it did." I smiled. My mind was a million miles away. "Kelly offered to bring him to live with us," I continued. "And she asked me if I wanted to move closer to him. I knew it wouldn't matter but we talked about it. But even though I knew he wouldn't want to live without Mom, it still hurt like hell when I found out he'd died, too." Carrie was looking at me with a trace of tears in her eyes. She flicked her eyes toward the door and I turned to see my little girl standing in the doorway crying, too. She sat in my lap, wet towel and all and just hugged me tightly. I'm not sure if I had ever felt more loved in my life. ------- Chapter 6 The conversation was thankfully less serious during the afternoon. "So, what are you getting me for Christmas?" Kasey asked. "I saw a nice little convertible down at the used car lot." "In your dreams," I answered. "If anyone is getting a convertible it's me. I'm the one in line for a mid-life crisis. Besides, I thought I gave you your Christmas present in August when you wanted to go to lacrosse camp." Kasey put her hands on her hips and glared at me. "You better have been joking," she insisted. "Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't," I replied. Kasey had turned into a sports nut. She played lacrosse in the fall, volleyball in the winter and ran track in the spring. During the summer she played all three. And she maintained a better than perfect GPA when you toss in her Advanced Placement classes. I'll admit to a great deal of pride my child. "Wow, your dad told me you were a great volleyball player," Carrie said. "But you play lacrosse, too?" "And track," I added. "Great, a running partner," Carrie said. "Do you mind jogging in the winter? I haven't been able to run for a few days and I miss it." "I run every morning," Kasey said. "Two miles minimum." Carrie was nodding enthusiastically. "Can we go tomorrow?" Carrie asked. "I have to beg your dad to loan me some money to get some running clothes." Kasey was on her feet in an instant. "Oh, no," Kasey said as she took Carrie's hand. "His wallet has cobwebs. Mom always said he has alligator arms — his hands don't quite reach into his back pocket. I've got a ton of stuff you can wear." I sat there watching the byplay. It was interesting to see Kasey interact with an adult in that manner. It hit me suddenly. Kasey was on the verge of adulthood herself. She wasn't interacting with Carrie in a child-parent manner. She was interacting as a peer. The feeling of helplessness swept over me again. My little girl was going to be heading off into the world in just six shorts months. She would graduate high school and head off to college. She had been accepted to numerous universities — including the alma mater my ex-wife and I had planned to share. "Dad?" Kasey asked. I realized she had been speaking to me. "Yeah, Shortstuff?" I answered. Kasey was almost as tall as I was and towered 8 inches above her petite mother. But Shortstuff was a nickname from a decade before. "I said," she replied with a mixture of mirth and embarrassment, "that Carrie and I are going shopping for female type things. But first we're going to the house to delve through my closet to see if I have some things she would like." "Ye, Gods," I said. "Don't do it, Carrie. I swear, all she has is 80s band T-shirts and jeans." "Cool," Carrie answered. She wasn't kidding. "Shit," I said as Kasey stuck her tongue out. "So, can I have it?" Kasey asked. "What?" "Your credit card," she replied while rolling her eyes. Suddenly the adult description didn't seem to be appropriate. "Carrie has no money. So cough it up." Wordlessly I complied. "Mike," Carrie said. "You don't need to do that. I can wait." I brushed her off. "No sweat," I replied. "Really, I don't mind. Kasey, if you tell your mother I gave Carrie money you're out of my will." Kasey kissed my cheek. "Your secret is safe with me," she said. "But it's OK if you cut me out of your will anyway. I'm pretty sure I'll be OK if you leave your old sweatpants collection to Mark." I almost flipped my daughter the bird before I caught myself. ------- The house was silent while the women shopped. It gave me a moment to reflect on what had happened over the past few days. It had been a whirlwind for me — and my mind doesn't accept change readily. Carrie was a refreshing presence. She had a sense of humor that I appreciated — and she seemed to appreciate my slightly off-center wit. She could join Kasey — who had inherited my tendency to take jokes to the lowest common denominator — as the only other person who would even smile when I tried to be witty. She seemed to be a positive influence on Kasey, but God only knew how long that would last. Mark was going to be the easy one to introduce her to. He had never met a person he didn't like and as he had grown older I had to caution him about talking to people he didn't know. I was mid-nap when my phone rang. I was expecting Kasey or Carrie with an update — or asking if I wanted them to bring me food. Instead it was Kelly. Yippee! "Is Kasey there?" she asked — and she seemed to be trying to be nice. "She's out for a while," I replied. "Did you try her cell?" "It's off," she answered. "I left a voice mail. How are things up there?" What was this? An attempt at conversation? "OK," I said. "She was here when I got home last night. I wish you would have called to let me know." "I thought she would call you, Mike," Kelly replied. "I'm sorry about that. I hope it wasn't a problem. There were just some things that needed to be done up there." "It's never a problem," I answered. "You know that. Things any better down there?" Kelly let out a deep sigh. "I'll take that as a no," I said. "Is Mark OK?" She laughed. "Mark is the only thing that keeps me sane," Kelly said. I could hear something strange in her voice. I realized she was crying. "Do you want me to send Kasey back down?" I asked. "Is it getting that bad? I'll take care of anything up here that you need done." Kelly was silent for a moment. "It's not that," she said. "It's just, well, I think Mark can see that I'm at the end of my rope. Every time I'm almost at the edge or every time Grandpa becomes a total ass, Mark will crawl up on his lap and ask Grandpa to tell him a story. Then the old bastard becomes almost normal. He's told Mark a lot of things I don't remember him ever telling me. Did you know he fought in World War I?" "No, but then he never liked me," I replied. "I don't think he's said more than a dozen words to me in 20 years." Kelly laughed. "Do you know why that is?" she asked brightly. "I've never questioned it," I answered. "I've just enjoyed it." Kelly laughed again. "The first time you met him he was spinning some tale of bullshit," she said. "You pointed out the flaws in this theory and he's never forgiven you. No one, I mean no one, corrected Grandpa. He was always right and never wrong. But you laid out his errors so succinctly that there was no way for him to refute it. That's the other thing that keeps me going. I can still see, plain as day, the look on his face when you did that. If I ever forget why I loved you I always think of that." It was rare for Kelly to admit that she had ever loved me either. "I always think about how great you were when Mom died," I answered. "I was telling Carrie and Kasey about that this very morning. I'm sorry about the way things worked out, Kelly. I probably should have told you that earlier but it was just easier not to. There were a lot of things about being your husband that I should have done better and I'm sorry that you didn't get to live the life you wanted. I mean that." "I know you do, Mike," she said. "But when I think back about the years we were married there are things I wished I had done differently too. Especially at the end. I know that Kasey will never forgive me for dragging her away. In fact, I dread her high school graduation because I worry that will be the last time I ever see her." Kelly was crying fully now. I felt like hell and for the first time in recent memory I felt like reaching out to her. "That's not going to happen, Kel," I said. "I promise you that. She's confused and she's angry. She has no ready outlet for her anger so you're it." "I know you try to reflect some of that anger back onto you," Kelly said. "She overheard me, oh I guess, over the summer, venting about something you had said or did. I don't even remember who I was talking to or what it was about. She pulled the phone out of my hand and just lit into me. She told me that you have never said anything in front of her that was even remotely negative about me. In fact, she told me that you took my side on almost every issue — even when I'm wrong." "Unified front," I replied. "I have also told her that there was an 11 in 14 chance that if one of said something crappy about the other it would be you she overheard. I think she accepts that." "Maybe we can try to be better about things, Mike," she said. "Maybe," I replied. "When I got the call from down here I started to think about who I could rely on to do what Hope Haven needed," she admitted. "I hated to ask you to do it but every time it would come back to you. You are the person I trust most in the world with anything important." I chuckled and tried to add some lightness. "I'm the only person you know dumb enough to agree," I interjected. "Well, I do admit that I considered that small fact," Kelly joked. "Listen, I need to go and take care of Grandpa. I can't make Mark do it all. Have Kasey call when she gets in. By the way, where is she?" "She took Carrie to the mall to get some 'female type' things," I answered. "Then she was going by your house to go through her closet to see if there was anything there she wanted to borrow." "Oh, Christ," Kelly said. I was worried the she would be pissed off about Kasey spending time with Carrie. "I hope she takes the whole closet — right down to those god-awful thongs Kasey insists she needs." Entirely too much information for a father to hear. "Well, it sounds like she's having fun," Kelly said. There was additional silence. "Mike, be careful with Carrie," she said. "I will be," I answered. "I know she's been through a lot." "So have you, Mike," she answered. "It's you I'm worried about. Let's find time to talk after the holidays." I told her we would. When I hung up the phone I realized I couldn't remember the last time I had a civil conversation with Kelly. ------- Kasey and Carrie were giggling like schoolgirls when they came through the door. They saw me sitting on the couch with a book and immediately were silent. They shot each other guilty looks and continued down the hallway. I saw the number of bags that each carried and immediately wondered if there was anything left at the mall — or on my credit card. Kasey came bouncing out a few minutes later with my card in her hand — it was still smoking from the use. "Should I just cut it up now or should I wait until I see the statement?" I asked. Kasey just rolled her eyes. I couldn't wait until she was in college and every need wasn't met within seconds. "A hundred bucks, Dad," she said. "That's all we spent on this card." "On this card?" I asked. Kasey whipped out the debit card that the state provides to all child support recipients. "This card got a bit of a workout," she said gleefully. Great, I have one adult conversation with my ex-wife then Kasey spends 9 months worth of support and it's right back to loggerheads. "You realize that your mother will want me to pay it back to her," I said. Kasey sat beside me on the couch. "I spoke to mom," she said. "Carrie and I went to a movie after I cleaned out my closet. Mom left a voice mail so I called her back when we got out. She told me she knew that I was shopping with Carrie and that she knew the child support took up most of your pay. So she told me to pay for it with this." I'm sure my jaw dropped. "When I told her of the clothes that I had given to Carrie she told me it was OK to get me some new things, too," she added. "So long as I didn't go overboard." "Your mother has been kidnapped by aliens," I said. Kasey nodded. "I believe that to be a fact," she said. "I suspected it when she told me that she had a very nice conversation with you today. I was almost certain of it when she told me to spend money on Carrie. It was confirmed when she told me to buy myself some clothes. I thought perhaps pod people but I think alien abduction is probably closer." "It makes as much sense as anything else," I responded. "Did you really have a 'very nice conversation, '?" Kasey asked. "Or did you manage to go 2 minutes without cursing at the other." "It was a nice conversation," I replied. "I'm not sure if it was a very nice conversation but it was nice." "She's worried about you," Kasey and I said at the same instant. "Punch, you owe me a Coke," she said. It was game we had played for years. "Why is she worried about me?" Kasey asked after a moment. "Does she think I'm going to sneak out? Jesus, you'd string me up alive." "You're right, I would," I answered. Then I took a deep breath. Kasey was at the stage where adult and child intermingled so easily that it was impossible to tell which version of my daughter I was talking to. "She's worried that when you leave her house in six months it will be the last time she sees you," I said. Kasey's face was firm. "A year ago, that was my plan," she said. "I planned to show up here and ask if I could live with you until I went to college. Maybe even while I went to college. I might still want to do that but I don't think so. But, no, there are times that I am displeased with Mom. But I don't hate her anymore." "Kasey," I said sharply. "What?" she answered. "Do you think I didn't hate her for what she did to us — to you? Well if you think that then you're out of your mind, too. Dad, you don't get it. I was your little girl. I am your little girl. When I'm 80 and you're 99 I'm going to be your little girl." "Well, that is a fact," I said sweetly. "At least in my mind." "But to her I was always the reason she didn't get to do something or go somewhere," Kasey said. "I was the reason she had to get married and the reason she had to stay married." "I think you're wrong about that," I said. "There might have been times that she might have felt that way but I don't think it was often. And I'm sure she was embarrassed when those thoughts did creep into her mind." I hesitated for a moment but I decided it needed to be said. "I know I was always embarrassed when those thoughts would creep into my mind," I said. Kasey didn't speak for a moment and I was poised to watch her flee to her bedroom. But she didn't. She simply nodded. "I didn't say that to hurt you, Sweetheart," I said softly. "I hope you know I would never say or do something for the sole purpose of hurting you. I said that so you know that all the things you accuse your Mom of, I'm guilty of, too." Kasey responded to this — angrily. "You didn't drag me away from her and make it impossible for me to see her," she said hotly. "No," I admitted. "But I might have if it were possible and anything else would interfere with the dreams I wanted to achieve." "Really?" Kasey asked. "Maybe," I said. "Kasey, you need to understand some things. I made the divorce difficult for your Mom. She wanted to transfer the proceedings to here. I wouldn't allow it. While your Mom was over here, I was working for a woman who won statewide office over there." "I know, Dad," she said. "I used to Google your name and I have almost all the news articles where you gave comment." "Oh," I said. "Well, one of the benefits to doing that is that I had a bunch of very good lawyers who would work for me. They made the divorce a real pain in the butt for your Mom. Do you remember that for almost six months she had to come across to there twice a month?" "I loved those times," Kasey answered. "I got to see you every week!" "And I wish I could say that seeing you and Mark was my purpose," I said. "It was great that I could see you that often. But my purpose was to try to get your Mom to see how hard she was making things for me. I wanted her to understand what it was like to have to drive that far every other week — to have to stay at a motel every other weekend. The judge always scheduled the hearing for 8 o'clock Monday morning. He did that because I asked him to. I asked him to because I wanted to make your mother as miserable as she was making me." "And as miserable as she was making me," Kasey insisted. "I wasn't 5 years old. I was 12, Dad. I had friends there. I had my life there. Then one day I find out that it didn't matter what I wanted. I had to go wherever she went and do whatever she wanted me to. I had absolutely no say in it whatsoever. The judge asked me where I wanted to live and I told him the truth. I would prefer to live with you but only if my brother got to live there, too." I had suspected that Kasey had told the judge that. But those proceedings were done in camera or in private without records to lessen the potential for conflict later. "The judge told me that he would let me live with you if that is what I wanted," Kasey admitted. "But that because Mark was just a baby he would have to stay with Mom. I decided I would stay there, too. If nothing else I was old enough to put up a fight and to make sure that she didn't try to move again or do anything like that." I smiled at my little girl — and she was right, she would always be my little girl. "But the last year has been good, Dad," she added. "You're back here and I get to see you as much as I want. Well, maybe not as much as I want but you know what I mean." "As much as you can stand," I joked. "That, too," she said with a laugh. "The best part is to watch Mom. It's perfect. The ultimate irony." I will admit to being clueless. I saw no irony under the circumstance. "Are you sure you don't mean coincidence?" I asked. "They are often confused but the words are not interchangeable." Kasey narrowed her eyes — as she often did when I corrected her grammar. "I know they are not interchangeable," she said. "I know they mean entirely separate things. Honestly, I blame the illiterate bloggers for the downfall of the English language — well, that and the bubble-headed bimbos that MSNBC and FOX News trot out. I think their bust size is bigger than their IQ." I could see Kasey going off on a rant so I intervened — with Mark it's call redirecting; with Kasey it is called interrupting. "But you digress," I said with a laugh. "But I digress," she mimicked with a grin. "The irony is this, Dad: My mother wants nothing more than to find a man who is financially stable, able to hold his own in conversation and well-respected in his field. It galls her to no end the very man she wants is the one she didn't want." I shook the confusion from my head. "You don't see it?" she asked. "You don't see it." The first was a question. The echo was a statement. "You are the managing editor of this newspaper and even people who don't like it have to admit that you're doing a great job with it," she said with pride. "My civics teacher will often point out interesting stories and that feature you guys did on the Constitution and its founders is part of our curriculum. You make enough money to pay child support, rent and eat. But you still have a couple of bucks you can slip me if I need it. And you might be the most intelligent man I've ever met. I've never met anyone who can discuss the finer points of classical music one minute and then explain the infield-fly rule to a novice in the next. "I wish I had a buck for every woman who has asked Mom what she was thinking when she divorced you," Kasey said. "Why do you need 2 bucks?" I asked jovially. "I can guess your grandma has asked. And your Aunt Vicki might have asked it but was more along the lines of why not earlier." "Hah!" Kasey said. "Some of my friends' moms have asked me to set you up with them. Do you remember Leslie Davis? She went to the amusement park with us two years ago." I nodded. "She told me that she was going to marry you," Kasey said with a laugh. "I believe that is when we stopped being friends. Like I'm gonna let a skank like Leslie Davis anywhere near my Daddy!" Carrie must have been lurking nearby but she walked out. She dropped four quarters in Kasey's hand. "I borrowed it from you but you know I'm good for it," she said. "Because I plan to ask Kelly what she was thinking the next time I see her." Carrie was wearing a pair of hip hugger jeans and a crop-top T-shirt. She could pass for a college girl. I knew she was a few years younger than me but in this light I could see that she might be more Kasey's contemporary than mine. It also bothered me that Kasey might have shown as much skin as Carrie was. "Those better not have been your clothes once, Kiddo," I said. Kasey smiled broadly. "I told you," she told Carrie. "I missed on Kiddo but I had the rest of it word for word. I should have gotten Kiddo, too. That's what he calls me when he's pissed at me but he doesn't want me to know he's pissed at me." Carrie shook her head with laughter. "Mike, I swear that is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time," she said. "I got these at a thrift shop today. But as soon as I tried them on, Kasey said — and by the way, she does a very good impression of you — 'those better not have been your clothes, Kasey.'" Kasey seemed to be enjoying the joke as well. I was probably a good thing I had met Carrie at Hope Haven or I would have offered to paddle both their asses for them. As it was, I simply thought how satisfying that would be for me. "Yep, laugh riot you two are," I said. "Don't you think I'd look cute in something like that, Dad?" Kasey asked. "They didn't have it in my size but I got something similar. Carrie, the summer before we moved, I got boobies. I used to just wear shorts and a tank top through the house — especially in the summer. Dad did OK until I wore a white one once. That night Mom took me to get a bra and I had to wear it whenever I was out of my room. My big, bad Daddy was embarrassed by my little tiny boobies." I glared at Kasey. "I think this conversation should go a different direction," I stated. "Carrie needs to have at least 6 months seniority before we start embarrassing Daddy." As always, I was ignored. "He took me to a water park when I was 15," Kasey continued. "Honest to God, he would not let me out of the room when she saw my swimsuit. He left me in the room and went a bought me a swimsuit — a tankini with boy shorts and everything. What really pissed me off was when I got home my old swimsuit — the one I bought — was no longer in my suitcase. He had taken it out and hidden it." With a laugh I walked back to my closet and retrieved the offending suit. "You can wear this after you turn 18," I said as I tossed it to. "I swear I have socks with more material. That was the last time your Mom let you shop for a swimsuit by yourself wasn't it?" "You told Mom?" Kasey said. "Hell yes, I told your Mom," I answered. "I actually called her from the car on my way to the store. You're lucky I did or you would have worn the Wal-Mart special instead of something from Bon-Ton. You're also lucky that I made you show me what you planned to wear before we got to the park. I would have embarrassed the hell out of you when I dragged back to the car by your ear." Carrie laughed but Kasey didn't. "He's not kidding, Cee," Kasey said. "He would have embarrassed me to no end and he might actually have dragged me out of there by my ear. Last year, I sort of got into a scuffle during a lacrosse match. When the match ended, I wouldn't shake hands with the other team. Well, I wouldn't until my dad marched down to the field and walked me through the line." "Oh, my God," Carrie said. "I would have been mortified!" "I was mortified," Kasey said. "Then he told me the next time I embarrass myself and my school by showing bad sportsmanship would be the last time he signs a permission slip for me to participate. At least he waited a half hour or so before he told me that. Otherwise there would have been bloodshed." Carrie nodded her head. "And now?" she asked. "With some perspective?" "Oh, he was right," Kasey said grudgingly. "Why couldn't you have asked me that in private. Now he's going to get a swelled head and we're going to have to take the starch out of him. But yes, in retrospect, it was wrong for me to refuse to shake hands and I'll admit it was mostly because we lost and not because of the fight. But I still say it was wrong for my father to embarrass me that way." "And I've admitted to that," I cut in. "And I've apologized." Kasey smiled and tears filled her eyes. "Cee, Dad doesn't do things halfway," she said. "The next practice he showed up and apologized to me in front of the team. He asked my forgiveness and told the other players he hoped their fathers never let their emotions overrule their better judgment as his had. I went from being extremely annoyed at him to loving him more than ever in about 20 seconds. It sucked." "Well, I embarrassed her in front of her friends so I thought I should apologize in front of her friends," I said. "I didn't hurt me to humble myself and I certainly needed to be humbled." Carrie was sitting reflecting on something emotional. I suspected it was a memory of her dad. "When I was 15, and I still lived with my Mom, my date broke up with me the day before Valentine's Day," Carrie said. "I was devastated. Of course my Mom told me I would get over it. But my Dad showed up in a suit and tie with roses and told me to put on the dress he knew I'd bought for my date. I don't know how he knew what color it would be but his tie matched exactly. I suspect he had a dozen ties in his car and he asked Mom what color it was. Then he took me out to a wonderful dinner — at a place he was certain was too pricy for my friends to be — then we went dancing. I'm 32 years old and it still the best Valentine's Day I have ever had." Kasey was looking at me questioningly. Unfortunately I didn't understand the question. "Well, Valentine's Day is only 6 weeks away," Kasey said. "Do you have plans yet?" Carrie smiled. "Once you get to a certain age Valentine's Day loses its luster," she said. "So that's a no," Kasey said. "How about you, Dad?" I rolled my eyes. "I'll probably have Mark so your Mom can go out," I said. Kasey laughed. "I'll take that as a no, too," she said — completely ignoring my comment. "I think you two should plan something. I'll doubt it will touch what your Dad did but I'll bet my Dad can plan out something special." Yep, that Kasey is a subtle as an elephant. ------- Chapter 7 "Gee, that wasn't awkward," I said to Carrie when Kasey went to call a couple of her friends. "It wasn't terribly awkward," she said. "I mean I wasn't uncomfortable." "You have to admit it was a tad bit embarrassing," I asserted. "Now you're going to lose your new best buddy if you don't go to dinner with me on Valentine's Day." I tried to turn the conversation to another line. "What's this Cee and Kay about?" I asked. "Kasey said her friends call her Kay," she said. "I told her I do the same thing with some of my friends. My friend, Dana, was just Dee. Erica was just E. So she started calling me Cee." I pursed my lips and nodded. It made as much sense as anything else. Carrie and I sat in companionable silence for a while. It was a nice feeling to be so comfortable around someone that we could share something as complex as nothing. Kasey has never learned to appreciate the value of silence. Perhaps it is a learned quality — like drinking scotch. Or perhaps her personality lends itself to constant movement. Or maybe she just likes annoying the shit out of me. Personally, I lean toward the last. "I'm going over to Sarah's for a while," Kasey said. "I'll be back around midnight." "You'll be back by 11 p.m.," I said. "They don't plow after 11:30." "Yes, Daddy," she said in her ingratiatingly sweet voice. "I'll be home by 11. Don't wait up." "I'll be on the couch and I'll know if you're a minute later than 11," I reminded her. "Let's keep that in mind. You know the rules." "If I'm going anywhere but Sarah's I'll call to let you know," she said. "If the weather gets bad I'll be home early. Am I forgetting anything?" It was a routine we went through every time she went somewhere: the Curfew Try, the Negotiation and the Recitation of Rules (yes, we had done it so often that the stages had their own names in my mind). "Just one thing," I said as I pointed to my cheek. She gave me the requisite kiss and I told what I always tell her. "Have fun. I love you." "I love you, too," she said. Then she turned to Carrie. "Did I tell you," she said with a laugh. "We need to expand our repertoire, Dad. See ya, Carrie. You two have fun, too." I heard her say, "Ah, variety" as she walked away — but not fast enough before I swatted her behind for her. "Hey," she said after she jumped. "What was that for?" "Something I missed in the past that you deserved it for," I said. "There, how's that for variety." "I could do with less variety if that is the form it takes," she said as she rubbed her cheek. But she was smiling and laughing as she left. "What do you want to do tonight?" Carrie asked. I shrugged. My social calendar was pretty barren. "How about you?" I asked. "Well, Kasey and I went to the movies today," she said. "I realized how long it had been since I'd done something like that. I started to think about other fun things that I haven't done in a while. Do you ice skate?" "Oh, hell no," I said. "You would be trotting me to the hospital in about 10 minutes." "Spoilsport," she said. "You don't run and you don't skate. I thought you were a sporty type." "Baseball, basketball, soccer, maybe even football," I said. "Running and skating are not sports. They are activities — and I will deny I said that if you ever repeat it." "It'll be fun," she said. "I promise." "Ice skating? I really don't think falling on my ass a hundred times will be fun," I said. "But OK. If that's what you want to do, I'll give it a shot. But if I'm too sore to move tomorrow..." I was about to make mention of kicking her ass but I caught myself. I think she knew what I was going to say because she stuck her tongue out. "Are you any good?" I asked. She bit her lower lip and nodded. It was about two steps above adorable. "Look at this way," she said with a sultry smile. "You get to hold my hand and I bought a pair of tights to wear. Every time you fall you will be on eye level with my butt. Does that sound more interesting now?" She had a good point. I had a couple of ankle braces from my basketball playing days so I made sure I had them on before I laced up my skates. I'm proud to say that I only fell twice before we hit the ice. After that, well, after that I spent more time at eye-level with Carrie's ass than I spent at eye-level with her eyes. After an hour I was a little better — but by that time my behind was so battered that my legs were numb. After a series of cramps in my calves, Carrie had mercy on me. "God, you are hopeless," she said as I sat gingerly beside her. I could only nod. "But your butt looks great in those tights," I said. At least that earned a chuckle. "You should know," she answered. "I think you're really a good skater but you just wanted an excuse to check me out." "Yep, that's it," I said. "I am willing to stand for a solid week so I can spend 20 minutes staring at your rump." I let Carrie drive home — without a driver's license — because my legs still were cramping periodically. "Wanna try horseback riding tomorrow?" she joked. "Maybe we could hit one of those country-and-western bars with the mechanical bull. I've always wanted to try that." "You're evil," I said simply. "Absolutely unredeemable." Carrie laughed manically. "You pegged me," she said. "That was my nickname growing up: Unredeemable." "Catchy," I laughed. "I would have thought it would be Carry-All, Carry-Over. But I was never very clever as kid." "As a kid?" she said. "Times haven't changed much. I mean, Kelly and Kasey, Mike and Mark. Clever passed you by a long way." "We have the same middle names, too," I said. "Kelly Renee and Kasey Renee; Michael Anthony and Mark Anthony. What's your middle name?" "Lee," she said. "Carrie Lee," I said. "Cute." "Thanks," she said. "Michael Anthony — were you named after that 80s actor?" I couldn't place the reference. I knew I should be able to but it evaded me. Probably the pain in my ass. "He was in The Breakfast Club," Carrie said. "Michael Anthony Something." "Anthony Michael," I corrected. "And no, I wasn't. In fact, I would guess we're about the same age. So bite me. Were you named for the snack cake?" "Probably," Carrie joked. "But the nurse misheard. My mom said Sarah Lee and the nurse heard Carrie Lee." "Is Walton your maiden name or have you been married?" I wondered. "Maiden," she said. "But I'll have to warn you, I'm no maiden. Well, maybe I'm a maiden again. God knows it's been a while. My hymen probably grew back." She blushed. "Sorry, Mike," she said. "That might have been out of bounds." "I'm probably in the same boat," I said. "Luckily I wasn't very good in the first place so no one would even notice." "So you haven't been with anyone since Kelly?" she asked. "Well, not exactly," I answered. "I had a friend for a while a few years ago — about a year after the split. But she wanted more than what I had to offer." "Marriage?" she asked. "No thanks," I replied. "Well, maybe tomorrow." "You goof," she said as she slapped me gently on the arm. "Your friend wanted to get married." "She wanted the whole 9 yards," I replied. "Nine yards?" she said. "That's impressive. Most guys lie a little but I doubt it's 9 yards." "Now who's a goof?" I said. "My friend want a husband, little ones in the yard, a white picket fence. I already had a family that I missed terribly. I didn't want to start a new one. I didn't want to replace them. I wanted them." "How about now?" she asked. "Now that you're closer." "I think that makes a whole lot of difference," I said. "I wouldn't allow myself to be in a position where I had to choose one or the other. But I think I can integrate additional facets to my family life." "I agree," Carrie said. "A problem that I've found is that most men already have a family — or more likely most men have already ditched a family. Either that or they were like you — their entire lives revolve around their kids and they couldn't make space for anyone else." "I know," I said. "I guess if I were honest I'll confess that probably last summer I started to look around. I found a lot of the same thing in women. They wanted someone to be a father to their children — at the expense of his own. Or they wanted someone who could foot the bill for the life they wanted to lead. And trust me, a man paying child support for two children is not in a position to run off to Cabo with you." "Damn it," she said. "That's it. Get out." "Hey, it's my car," I shot back. "Details," she replied. Then she swatted my arm again. "Hey, listen," I said in a light voice. "I might have picked you up in a battered woman's shelter but you gotta stop slugging me." "Pussy," she said. Then she blushed. "No thanks," I replied. "Well, maybe tomorrow." "Not if you have 9 yards," she said. "Hell, not even if you have 1 yard." "Unredeemable," I repeated. "Look at where you've dragged our conversation." "I've dragged it here?" she said. "You spend all night ogling my ass and you are accusing me of being a degenerate?" "You showed me your ass," I replied. "I'm certain that on at least 2 occasions you dragged me down because you thought I'd forgotten about it." "Even if I did, so what?" she said. "That doesn't explain the other 198 times you fell. If you want a peek, all you have to do is ask." Carrie lifted the hem of her coat slightly and pulled her tights down about two inches. Just far enough that the side of her butt was showing. "There, will that last until you get home?" she asked. "I think so," I said. I wasn't sure where the conversation was headed but I thought I should probably slow it down. "You should have held out for more," she said. "I was willing to give you a boob shot." Against all conceivable thought I hoped she would give me one. Instead she reached over and took my hand. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked. "A little," I admitted. "I'm out of practice and I don't really know where the line is. I don't want to do something you find offensive." I saw Carrie glance at me. "Let me just say that you've done nothing that I find remotely offensive," she said. "I'm also pretty sure if you did something that I didn't like I wouldn't be angry about it. I might ask you not to do it again but so far we've just skated around things." I couldn't help but laugh. "You skated and dragged me behind you," I put in. "True," she said with a smile. "But I'm enjoying myself with you. And Mike, I would like for what we're developing to go forward." "I think I would like that, too," I admitted. "But I haven't been through a harrowing experience. I don't want you to realize in a month or two that this was just a stopping place to get your feet back on the ground after what you've gone through. Does that make sense?" Luckily we were at a stop light because Carrie turned completely to face me. "That makes sense on a certain level," she said. "I'm not a sociable person. This portion of my personality is sorely underused. I am not comfortable around many people. I'm not sure why but I never have been. But I'm comfortable around you. I think you're comfortable around me. You joke and make fun of me — and by the way, don't worry about jokes about paddling my ass, I don't mind and I'm not going to break into tears — just the same way I joke and make fun of you. I know this might sound rushed and maybe even a bit stupid but this is the way I pictured my perfect life. Well, the way we act around each other with a lot of affection mixed in. But I think the affection will come. I certainly feel affectionately toward you. I hope I haven't made a fool out of myself but we're adults. We're not 15 years old. We don't need to observe archaic courtship rituals." "So long as Kasey is observing those archaic courtship rituals," I said. "She is," Carrie admitted as the light changed. "I think you were right about her need to be able to talk to an older female. I get the impression that your ex-wife is a bit judgmental and I think she has pushed some views on Kasey that Kasey doesn't agree with." "It wouldn't surprise me," I said. "Kelly is a chameleon. She changes her attitude to fit what her needs are at the moment." "Which brings me to another point," Carrie said. "I overheard some of what Kasey told you this afternoon. I wasn't eavesdropping but I'll admit that I was interested and I didn't try too hard to avoid listening. How do you feel about what she told you?" "Which parts?" I asked. "I was happy as hell that Kelly paid for all that stuff you two drug in." "Dragged," Carrie corrected. "Past participle of drag is dragged, not drug." "Screw you," I said. "Stick to your numbers." Carrie turned her head and raised her eyebrows in what appeared to be a leer. "OK," she said. "Before we get back into the gutter, I meant about Kelly and her new view of you. What I told you the other night — about me spending time with her family — I got the distinct impression she included you in that assessment." "That is too bad," I said. "That ship has sailed and it is one-way passage." "You said there is a part of you that still loves her," she said. "A very small part and that part is dwarfed by the part that remembers vividly how things were after the separation," I said. "Before I got a big-gun attorney I got my teeth kicked in at every turn. For almost four months I couldn't have Mark overnight because he was breastfeeding. I knew she bottle fed him, too, but she didn't want to be bothered with it. Regardless of what Kelly wants, if she were the last woman on earth I would be a queer." Carrie broke out in laughter. "Don't hold back," she said as she pulled into my (our?) driveway. "Say what you feel." As she helped me through the door she turned to me and kissed me. Then she slipped my hands down to the very butt I had admired so frequently for the past two hours. It was a firm butt. And Kasey was sitting on the couch smirking at me, giving me a two thumbs up. ------- Chapter 8 Carrie blushed scarlet when she realized we had an audience. "It's not 11 p.m.," she said. "And there is no weather warning. So you better have a good reason for being home." But she was laughing. "I was just hoping for some kissing instruction," Kasey joked. "So it's OK if I put the guy's hands on my butt if I want them there." "When you're Carrie's age, yes," I interjected before Carrie could answer. "Not a minute before." "Mom called," she said. "Grandma and Grandpa got in this evening. She'll be home in a little while. She might already be there but I wasn't going home before I said good-bye." "Do you have to go tonight?" Carrie asked. I wasn't sure if she was getting cold feet or if she really wanted Kasey to stay. I had to admit that my daughter had been a joy to be around the past couple of days. "I probably don't have to but I'm sure you want me to," Kasey said with a small grin. "I am perfectly fine if you're here," I said with conviction. "Sweetie, this is your house, too." "I know, Dad," she answered. "Mom said she would call when she got in. I came back here in case she wanted me to come home tonight. Besides, it might not be 11 p.m. but it is after 10." Carrie and I glanced at the clock simultaneously. It was a quarter after 10. Time had flown by. "So what did you kids do tonight," Kasey asked. "Other than the floor show." "We went ice skating," Casey answered. "Well, I went skating. Your Dad was more like the Zamboni." I was surprised that I didn't have to explain the comment to Kasey but she got it. "I bet," she answered. "I took him roller skating with me once. And once was all I took him. He cleaned the floor there, too. I like your outfit, Cee. It looks great on you." Carrie beamed and pirouetted. She had a sweater on top and she looked absolutely delectable. I was wearing wet jeans and sweat shirt. I did not look delectable. "I'm going to change out of these wet clothes," I said. "I'm pretty sure they are frozen to me." "Call if you need help," Carrie said. Then she apologized to Kasey. "Yeah, that is a pretty gross thought," Kasey agreed. "Old folks don't do things like that. Do you?" I figured retreat was the safest option. My jeans were not frozen to me but my hips had already started to bruise. I was going to be sore and grouchy in the morning. I even had the start of a bruise on my elbow. Kasey was busy on her cell phone when I hobbled down the hallway. "Poor baby," Carrie said. "Does it hurt much?" "Only when I laugh," I answered. "Kelly?" Carrie nodded. "I can come home tonight if you want," Kasey said and I swear she was growing devil horns. "I'm sure Dad and Carrie would enjoy the privacy. Okay. I guess it is pretty late. Give Mark a kiss for me and tell him Sissy misses him. I'm glad. Are Grandpa and Grandma going to be able to come up for Christmas?" The conversation disintegrated from there. "I'll see you in the morning, then," Kasey concluded as she hung up. "I'm supposed to ask if it is OK for me to say here." Kasey wandered back to her room and Carrie lowered her head. "I was so embarrassed," she said. "But I didn't want her to think I was ashamed of anything so I played it off. God, she must think I'm a slut." "Well she was giving me the thumbs up," I replied. "So I think slut is not the word she was thinking. Catch might be the right word." It must have been a good reply because Carrie was kissing me again when Kasey walked back in. "Ahem," she said — as I had done a time or two when she was kissing on the couch. "Am I going to have to sit between you two?" "Depends if you want a front row seat to me kissing your Dad," Carrie said. "I'm sort of enjoying it." "I can tell," Kasey answered. "Just tone it down a little, OK. There are impressionable children in the room." She sat on my other side — far away from my hips, thankfully, and we watched TV for a little while before everyone decided it was bedtime. I slept miserably and was awakened as soon as the sun rose. Kasey and Carrie were heading out the door. "We're going for a run, Dad," Kasey said. "Run her ass off," I answered. "I think I left most of mine at the ice rink." I pulled the pillow over my head but not before I heard Kasey say, "You don't want to lose your hand holds for kissing do you?" They weren't gone near long enough for my tastes. And they were entirely too cheerful when they returned. "Awesome," I heard Kasey say when she came in. "That is the best run I've had in six months. It's always better to run with someone. You're really in great shape." "I run every morning," Carrie answered. "Think we can get your Dad interested in running with us." Kasey laughed. "Not unless someone is chasing with a shotgun," she said. "Dad is more likely to fight than to run." "Maybe he can do tae kwon do with me," Carrie said. "He might," Kasey answered. "He likes that sort of stuff. He always watches boxing pay-per-views." "Really," Carrie said. "My dad loved boxing. I think that is why I started doing martial arts." The pillow over my head wasn't working so I got up. Well, I guess more accurately, I tried to get up. The moment I tried to swing my legs over the side of the couch my entire body went into revolt. "Ugh," was the only sound that came from my mouth. Kasey came over and helped me sit up. "Jesus, Dad," she said with genuine concern in voice. "Your whole arm is bruised." "So is the rest of me, I think," I answered. I felt Carrie lifting my shirt up in the back. "Wow, Mike," she said. "We match." She lifted up her shirt to show the bruising around her torso. It had been almost 10 days and the bruises were turning a nasty black. "I think my behind is in worse shape," I said. "But you still have all your teeth," she answered. I explained to Kasey that Carrie had to get a crown because one of her teeth was missing. "I'm going to have a nice hot shower," I said. "If I'm not out in three days have Christmas without me." "Do you mind if I take a quick one first," she said. "I can probably be in and out of there before you even get up." "Take your time," I said. "I think I'll have a cup of coffee before I try to step over the side of the tub into the shower." Kasey announced she was going to shower at her Mom's. She gathered her duffel bag and gave each of a kiss before she headed out the door. Carrie came out wearing a robe and instructed me to hit the bathroom. "I ran you a warm bath," she said. "Mike, I didn't realize it would be that bad. I guess I had a little more padding on my butt." "More muscle," I said. I had noticed that Carrie had noticeable ab muscles when she lifted up her shirt. "Let me help you get undressed and in the tub," she said. I insisted that I would be fine. Plus I didn't want her to see that my physique was less than impressive — certainly less impressive than hers. "I'm going to see everything soon," she said. "Well, I hope it'll be soon. You might as well allow me." As if to punctuate her point she shucked off her robe. My gulp was evident. Even with the traces of bruises around her ribs she was gorgeous. "Off with the sweats," she said. "I'll join you in the tub if you want." I wanted. Surprisingly except for kissing we didn't delve much into touching. I felt much better after the hot bath. I was still sore as hell but I was mobile. And I had a long day ahead. "I should have told you this yesterday," I said after we were dressed and sitting in the kitchen. "We'll need to go back to the mall today." "I got everything I needed yesterday," she said. "Well, not quite everything," I answered. "Well, maybe you did. The Chamber of Commerce Christmas Ball is tonight. Would you like to go with me?" I saw a hint of anger flash across Carrie's face. It shocked me. "If you don't, that's OK," I said. "Of course I want to go with you," she said. "But you really should have told me yesterday. I need to get my hair done and pick up a dress and jewelry. It's a little short notice." "Oh." It wasn't the best reply but it was all I had. "How long were you married?" she asked. "You know that these things take time. Or at least you should know that by your age." "Hey," I said. "That's hitting below the belt." "Is Kasey free today?" she asked me as if I would know. "Do I appear to be her social secretary?" I replied. "Men," she said. "Can I use your cell phone?" I nodded and she was gone to the other room. I could feel my ears burning so I had a feeling I was getting my ass chewed in absentia. A few minutes later she returned and handed me the phone. "She wants to talk to you," she said. "Don't start on me," I said instead of greeting her properly. "Jesus, you're clueless," Kasey said — as if I hadn't just told her not to. I was sensing a pattern. "OK, I'm clueless, a dolt, a moron," I supplied all the superlatives so we could get the conversation moving forward. "How dressy is this thing?" she asked. "How the hell would I know? I've never gone before. I just thought Carrie might like to go. If I would have known it was going to be such a big production I wouldn't have asked." "I'll pull it up on the Web site, hold on," she told me. "Here are some pictures from last year. LBD. No prob. I probably have one she can wear or we can find one off the rack. I'll see if Mom has some jewelry. That just leaves shoes and a do. Got it covered. Let me have Carrie back." I didn't understand half of what I was just told but I did as I was instructed. A moment after I handed Carrie the phone she was talking to me again. "What are you wearing?" "Cut-off sweatpants and T-shirt," I replied. "I was talking about to the ball?" she emphasis. "So was I," I replied. "I don't know. What do you think? I didn't think it was a big deal. Let me find the invite. I'm sure it's in my stack of junk here." I dug through my pile of crap until I found the envelope. "Semi-formal," I replied. "That means I don't require a tux and tails, correct?" I was greeted with another grunt. Mostly likely dual grunts but since I couldn't hear Kasey on the other end I will pretend my daughter hadn't turned on me. I walked to my closet and pulled out a black suit, a charcoal suit and my tux. Carrie had followed me in. "He has his own so that is covered," she said. Then she spoke to me. "Can you still fit into that thing?" she gestured toward the tuxedo. I nodded. "OK, can you bring the stuff over here? Fantastic. How about the hair? Do you think you can? Really? It's not like I have a lot of options." I could feel another glare directed at me. I decided it was time for a nap. When I awoke and hour later my house was abuzz — and only Kasey and Carrie were present. But the way they flitted around like butterflies you would never know that. My appearance in the hallway only increased the flurry of activity. "Do you like her hair?" Kasey asked. I nodded dumbly. It really didn't look much different than it had the day before. But I knew better than to say that. "Is that an upswoop?" I asked. Don't ask me how I recognized it. I couldn't tell you for the life of me. "An upsweep," Carrie corrected. "And yes. It is." I searched my memory for any other facts I could possibly remember. "It makes your neck look very graceful," I replied. "It will really look great with jewelry. Which reminds me that I need to borrow Kasey for a moment." My daughter, reluctantly, followed behind me to my room. Or at least where I stored my belongings. I got in the back of my closet and pulled out a box. "I'll ruin a surprise for you but I promise I'll make it up to you," I said as I opened the box. Inside was the string of simple pearls that father had given my mother on their 40th wedding anniversary. "These go to you when you turn 18," I said. "They were Grandma Cavenaugh's. Is it OK if Carrie wears them tonight? "It's OK if you say no," I finished. Kasey was standing admiring the necklace. "It will be perfect," she said. "These are really mine?" I nodded. "Your Grandma specifically instructed me to give them to you from her for your 18th birthday," I said. "You used to play with them whenever she wore them. She would put them on over a sweatshirt just so you would sit on her lap." "I remember them," Kasey said with tears in her eyes. "That means so much to me, Dad. She was the sweetest lady." I put my arm around my little girl. My mom was special, that was for sure. But her granddaughter was nothing to sneeze at either. "I think I would be very happy to have Carrie wear them tonight," she said. "In fact, I think it would be perfect. Can I tell her about them?" I nodded. "You might leave parts of it out," I advised. "But that's up to you." Kasey pondered what I said. "No, I think she should know how special they are," she said. "I think she should know how special we think she is." As Kasey turned I caught her arm. "I love you, sweetie," I whispered as I hugged her. "I love you too, Dad," she replied. It warmed my heart as it did every time I heard it. "Dad, is it OK if I wait until you're ready to leave before I give these to her?" "They're yours, Darling," I said. Carrie was waiting for us when we exited. Kasey looked up at her and spontaneously hugged her. Carrie was a little startled but she returned the hug. Before Carrie could ask the reason, Kasey was down the hallway. "Are there any other social obligations in the near future?" she asked with a grin. "We pulled off a miracle this time but I would prefer some advanced warning next time." I shrugged. "In my defense, my publisher was supposed to go to this but his wife insisted he take her to Aspen for the holidays," I said. "He dropped some stuff off on my desk last Friday. Kelly dropped the Hope Haven stuff on my on Saturday. I ran into you Monday and, well, I never thought of it again until this morning. "Besides, we could drop a turnip bag over your head and you'll be the most beautiful women there." She kissed my cheek. "Nice try," she said. "I'd kiss your lips but you're so full of shit that I'm afraid I would taste it." Oh well, can't win them all. I wandered out front and dug back through my pile of paperwork. I pulled out three more invitations — this time to New Year's Eve festivities, thank God. "Uh, we have three for New Year's Eve," I announced. "One from the country club, one from the Humane Society and one from a rich old bastard who lives in a mansion where each room is bigger than my house." "Oh, the Humane Society is costume," Kasey, who had appeared again, said. "One of my friend's parents went last year. They said it was a blast. You should do that one." Carrie was studying the invitations carefully. She handed me the one from the Humane Society. "It's says it's costume again this year," she said. But she wasn't pointing at those words. She was pointing to the table size. I glanced up at her as she was making dramatic gestures toward Kasey with her eyes. I thought she might be having a seizure. I was dissuaded from that notion when she tapped the card. Oh, the paper had reserved four seats. I got it. I actually got it. "Hey, Kasey," I said — and I earned a smile from Carrie. "Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?" "Probably watching Mark while Mom goes out," she answered. "Why? It's mom's turn to have Mark this year. You had him last year." "I know when I have you guys," I said. In fact, I planned my whole life around those days. "I was wondering if you and a guest would like to accompany Carrie and me to the Humane Society gala. The invitation is for four people." "Really?" Kasey gushed. "That would be so hot. What sort of costume are we going to do, Carrie?" "Let's get through tonight before we start planning the next night out," I cautioned. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," Carrie said. "I'm nervous enough about my polite society debut. I need to focus all my energy on getting ready." Kasey giggled. "Wait until I tell Mom that I'm going to the Humane Society benefit," she said. "She was pissed off when I told her that I needed to come over here to get Carrie ready for the Chamber event. Mom has tried for weeks to angle an invite." "Don't be a shit," I urged. "I wasn't in a position to take your Mom to things like this when we were married. In fact, I wouldn't be in a position to take Carrie tonight if your Mom hadn't divorced me." "Duh!" Kasey said. "Somehow I doubt Mom would let you date while you were married to her." I chuckled. "What I mean is that I would still be doing what I was doing if I were still married to her," I said. "I would never have taken the job with Jenny Grassley and I would have been offered a managing editor's job without the divorce." "Oh." We are definitely a family with an expanded vocabulary. "If I didn't want to go so badly I would tell you that you should offer to take Mom," Kasey added. "But I really want to go." "So too bad, so sad," I finished. "Exactly," Kasey said. Carrie simply watched the byplay with amusement. ------- Hours later Carrie looked absolutely amazing. She simply seemed to glow. Casey was wearing a simple black sequined dress. It fit her well, showing off her trim body and long legs. Her eyes glistened and she had a pair of Kelly's pearl earrings in her ears. Around her shoulders she wore a simple wrap. Kasey stopped us as we were getting ready to leave. "Carrie, there is one more thing that will really make this perfect," she said. I could tell she had planned this for dramatic effect. "These pearls were a gift from my Grandmother Cavenaugh to me. They aren't really mine until next September but I want you to wear them tonight." Carrie was near tears as Kasey fastened the clasp for her. "These are gorgeous, Kasey," she said. "Now come here and hug me before I start to cry and ruin my mascara." Kasey complied and I watched them acting more like mother and daughter than Kasey and Kelly. I was troubled by that but I didn't want to borrow trouble. ------- Chapter 9 The Chamber was charmed by my date. I was my usual professional self and I think it threw Carrie off a bit. I am somewhat reserved and staid when I am in a professional situation — a far cry from the juvenile way I behave in private. But the members in attendance were old moneyed or new moneyed but either way they were moneyed. Carrie was used to dealing with these types of people. Some of her clients were multi-national corporations so she was at ease. I, on the other hand, hated the stuffy old bastards and their silicon trophy wives with a passion. So I hid behind the mask of my job — I was representing the newspaper, a charter member of the Chamber — and I was not there as a participant. We danced and ate and socialized. Carrie was a hit and gradually she even managed to pull portions of my personality into the open around people I knew fairly well. Of course the newspaper staffed the event as well. I think the photographer was shocked and dismayed when I showed up in a tux — with a beautiful woman on my arm. I know for a fact he expended at least two dozen shots when Carrie and I exited my car. I wondered for a moment if perhaps her boob was loose. I checked but everything was covered. More the pity. Carrie had very interesting boobs. And more importantly — at least to me — they were original equipment. That couldn't be said of 80 percent of the women younger than 50 and 40 percent of the women older than 50 present. Carrie was besieged with requests to dance but she always declined — even though I made it a point to assure her that I wouldn't mind so long as she danced with me occasionally. Instead she stayed attached to my arm for the entire night. The only time she danced with anyone else was when the newspaper's elderly owner asked. Actually his elderly wife asked me to dance and I felt obligated to agree. Carrie was silent for the first portion of the ride home. "Did you enjoy yourself?" I asked. "You were certainly the belle of the ball." "I did have fun," she said. "It was a new experience for me. Did you have fun?" "I had fun being with you," I replied without a moment's thought. "But those really aren't my sort of things." "I noticed," she said. "You put on a mask the moment we left the car. It was like I was with a stranger." "Uh, Carrie," I said. "We've known each other a week. I am a stranger, relatively speaking." As is practiced by my daughter, my reply went entirely ignored. "Is that the way you act at work?" she wondered. I thought about my answer. "It's not really an act," I said. "At work I am expected to behave a certain way. Now that I run the newsroom, that means I have to maintain a relatively serious air. I joke with my people and I don't think anyone considers me a tyrant. But I have expectations of my people, too. For instance, you saw photographers from three newspapers there tonight. Which one do you think was from my paper?" "The one who blinded me for life," she said. "I thought either your nipple slipped free or you flashed your hoo-ha when you got out," I said with a smirk. "I did not flash my hoo-ha," she said with mock indignation. "And I saw you lean forward to check to my sure my boob was covered." Oops. Busted. "Anyway, back to your point," she said. "Your photographer did not look like a bum off the street. He wore a tie and jacket. He also kept a respectful distance. I noticed the couple in front of us almost had to push through the other two photographers. Yours stayed back and acted, well, professionally. I noticed the writer you sent blended it. She did not make a spectacle of herself by intruding in conversations. In fact, if she hadn't stopped by to ask you questions a couple of times I wouldn't have known she was there or what her function was." "The couple in front of us was the mayor," I said. "The woman with him was not his wife. I am on somewhat friendly terms with his family. The other papers were from out of town so it was gossip. The woman with the mayor is his sister-in-law. She is ill and this was something she has always wanted to do. But even if it was a 18-year-old streetwalker I would expect my people to maintain decorum. We could broach the subject privately but we do not practice what I call 'journalism by ambush.'" Carrie seemed to be taking in what I said. "But when we sat down for dinner, your mask slipped a little," she said. "You knew the other couple at our table so you were able to drop the charade. It was just a side of you I wasn't aware of. I've met newspaper guys before. They were almost a caricature of the old whiskey swilling, cigar chomping men pounding away on their typewriters." "I think the biggest thing I faced when I got here was the number of fences that needed to be mended," I told her. "My predecessor was not a professional. She allowed her personal biases to influence her coverage." "Oh I heard about that at Hope Haven," Carrie assured me. "Ol' Battleax Madelyn told me that you hate all women and that you almost single-handedly shut the place down." "That is a bit over-dramatic," I responded. "You think?" Carrie joked. "What I insisted upon was disclosure," I said. "My predecessor allowed the shelter to hide behind secrecy while she pushed for public donations. I told them that before I was willing to make an appeal I wanted to see what programs are offered and to ensure that the programs and those who offer them are state approved. I didn't ask for specifics. So long as they were willing to put me in touch with the state agency that certified the programs I would go from there. They were unwilling or, more likely, unable to do that. So I was unwilling to ask the public to help. Or more aptly, I was unwilling to provide free advertising for them." "As is your right and your responsibility," Carrie said. "Not all feel that way," I replied. "Let me guess," she said. "Kelly chewed you out for your stance." "Actually, the opposite," I answered. "She backed my decision fully and even stood up in front of the board of directors and told them that unless they had something to hide they had no reason to keep the information private." "Wow," Carrie exclaimed. "Yeah," I said. "Shocked the crap out of me. I fully expected to get it with both barrels. Instead she told the old crones that eventually the state would get around to seeing where their grants were going so they better get their ducks in row." Carrie sat and looked out the window for a couple of minutes. "Can I convince you to move back your bed tonight?" she asked. I glanced to my right and she was smiling at me like a cat smiles at a mouse. "If my daughter does not have five friends at the house to show you off, I think I could be persuaded," I said. "Maybe I should call ahead and tell her to go home," Carrie joked. "Otherwise I'm going to ask you to stop at a motel and make love to me." She slid a little closer and put her hand in my lap. "If I wasn't in a borrowed dress and wearing borrowed jewelry I would be in your lap right now," she whispered. "I don't want to scare you but I'm falling for you pretty quickly." I moved her hand to my thigh so I could concentrate on the road. "I'm not scared," I said. "And I feel the same way. I think I've felt that way since the first moment I saw you." "Me, too," she said. "It was a foreign emotion for me," I confessed. "It was conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to wrap you in my arms and protect you from the world. Another part of me wanted to sweep the cookies off the counter and make love to you right there." "Wouldn't that have been a sight to greet Ol' Battleaxe Madelyn," Carrie said with a lusty laugh. "Because I wanted to do the same thing to you. She would have walked in on me pinning you down on the floor and having my way with you. Which is the way we'll have to do it tonight. Otherwise your poor bruised bottom will never withstand my hands." "What about your bruises?" I asked. "You can kiss them all better," she said. "It's a shame I don't have any bruises in the fun places. But I gather that his prison experience had turned poor Robert into quite the homo." "You obviously hold a bachelor of science degree," I said. "A master's in business administration," she said. "Why does it matter?" "If it was a liberal arts degree you would have said divergent lifestyle," I said. "If you hadn't gone to college you would have called him a fag." "You have a liberal arts degree," she told me. "What term to you use?" "Pole smoker and carpet muncher," I said. Carrie laughed out loud — and it wasn't the "oh my God I can't believe he said that" laugh. "Those are terms that I am familiar with," she said. "I told Kelly I was surprised Hope Haven didn't dress up a lesbo in leather to play Santa Claus," I replied. "Oh my God," Carrie said. "That is exactly what I thought. When they told me Santa was sick, I was sure they were gonna hit the gay bar down the street and bring home some butch in studded leather pants." "Where have you been all my life?" I asked. "You seem perfectly respectable in public but you are a foul-mouth wench in private." "A lusty, foul-mouthed wench in semi-private," she whispered. "And as long as you treat me well, I'll be a little slut when we're alone. I'm not very experienced in those things but I am willing to learn." I gulped. I just knew someone was going to pinch me and I was going to wake up any minute. "Me, too," I said. "So long as we don't violate any state, federal or local statutes or laws of nature or physics I'm in." "Call Kasey and tell her to get her ass home," she urged. "Or your little girl is going to see a lot more than she should tonight." ------- Kasey was not at my house when we arrived. I believe, as much as I would like to deny it, that she knew what was going to happen. Carrie stopped a few steps inside the door — probably just enough for me to get inside and close the door. I watched as she gently removed her jewelry before she turned to face me. There probably wasn't 2 feet between us. Her face turned mischievous and she slipped one strap, then the other off her shoulders. I stepped forward to help in the removal but Carrie shook her head and turned her back to me. "Unzip me," she said in a breathy voice. I couldn't resist kissing her neck and shoulders as I slowly slipped the zipper from her upper back to her mid-back. Carrie pulled forward. She used one had to push me back a step and the other to hold her gown in place. Carrie's right hand was the only thing holding the fabric up and when she pulled her hand away it pooled in a pile at her feet. Carrie stood in front of me wearing nothing but a black garter belt and stockings over a black thong. Her silk stockings trailed down her long legs to a pair of high heels. It was the most erotic sight I had ever seen in my life. I probably could have dropped dead happily at that point and I would have considered my life complete. Believe it or not, it only got better from there. It seems the look on my face was exactly what Carrie had hoped for because she was in my arms with her legs wrapped around my waist in seconds. We only made it as far as the couch before my clothes started flying off. Hours later, two sweaty, satisfied people finally fell asleep in a tangle of sheets and body parts. Or at least one satisfied person. I think I did a passable job given my lack of practice and Carrie certainly didn't complain. I don't think it was boredom or the two glasses of wine she had consumed at the party that led her to slumber. But I have been wrong before. ------- A few short hours later sunlight was coming through the curtains and my telephone was ringing. Carrie was still wrapped around me and I had only one free hand — that I had to remove from Carrie's calf to answer the phone. "Yeah," I said groggily. "Hey, Dad," Kasey said cheerfully. "Long night?" "Yeah," I said groggily. "Are you awake yet?" "Yeah," I said groggily. "Good, because a little man has missed his Daddy and I thought Carrie should have some clothes on when he meets her," Kasey giggled. "Yeah," I said groggily. "We'll be over in about 45 minutes," she said. "Is that enough time?" "Yeah," I said groggily. Kasey voice dropped down part of an octave. "I know Carrie liked the gift I gave to her," she said in a husky voice that was somewhat disconcerting — especially this early in the morning. "But did you like the gift I gave to you?" I was silent for a moment before I realized that stocking-garters set must have come from Kasey. "We'll talk about that later," I assured her. "If you know what I'm talking about you must have enjoyed it," Kasey said in her normal voice. "Love you, Dad. See you in 45 minutes or so." She clicked off before I could respond. I tilted my head to see Carrie looking up at me with a soft smile. "How soon?" she asked. I wasn't sure if she meant how soon would the kids arrive or how soon could I manage to do what I really wanted to do with her again. "Kids will be here in 45 minutes or so," I said. I figured that would answer both questions. "We have time to shower together then," she said as she kissed me lightly on the lips. "Um, at least she called. I had feared I would wake up to her standing in the doorway." "I put the security chain on last night," I joked. "I have visions of the same thing." Carrie nodded as if I was serious. Hell, maybe I was serious. "You going to go running this morning?" I asked. "Hell no," she said. "I got enough exercise last night. Jesus, Mike, that was incredible." In my mind I buffed my imaginary fingernails on my imaginary shirt. "Perhaps you simply have a limited scope of reference," I replied. "It doesn't matter," she said playfully. "I could barely lift my head when I fell asleep. I was so wrung out. It's lucky I was dehydrated because if I would have had to get up to pee I probably would have just wet the bed." Carrie laughed at the state of bed when we pulled ourselves to our collective feet. "I might have well just wet the bed," she said. "I don't think we would have noticed." She pointed to still drying wet spots at various spots in the bed. "Guess we should change the sheets, huh?" I asked. "Give them an hour or so and we can just chisel them off the mattress," Carrie replied. "Get the water started in the shower. I'll start them to soak in the washer." Carrie joined me under the water a couple of minutes later. She immediately pulled me down for a kiss. I was glad I had re-introduced myself to a toothbrush before I turned on the water. "Nothing has changed this morning," she said when she pulled away. "I mean I don't feel awkward or guilty or like I want to flee." "I don't feel that way either," I confessed. "Waking up beside you this morning seemed as natural to me as breathing. And last night, I can't even describe last night." Carrie cuddled close to me. We weren't getting much washing done. "Last night was perfect," she said. "God, we were so engaged. It's like we were one person sharing two bodies. The look on your face when I dropped my dress, Mike. I went weak at the knees. I think I've been anticipating last night since I met you. Sometimes too much anticipation is a bad thing. The real thing doesn't live up to what you've created in your mind. "But last night surpassed even my vivid imagination — all of it, Mike. The fact you wanted me to go. You wanted to take me out and show me off. Your daughter has welcomed me with open arms. She gave me her grandmother's pearls to wear, hon. That made me feel so much like family I couldn't help but cry. Outside of my Dad I had never more felt special than when Kasey put those around my neck. At least I had never felt so special until we got home and I saw that look on your face. For just an instant I wondered what you saw. Then I realized it was me. That look was just for me. It wasn't what I was wearing. It was that it was me who was wearing it. That's what brought that look to your face — me. "So I think something has changed this morning," she said after a slight pause. "I love you, Mike Cavenaugh," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I probably don't want to and I probably shouldn't yet but I love you." I kissed her gently. "I love you, too," I replied without hesitation. "And I can't think of a reason in this world why I should wait to let you know that." ------- Chapter 10 We were sitting side by side on the couch when Kasey and Mark arrived. I was on my second cup of coffee and Carrie was sipping a cup of tea when the duo came tromping in. Mark had barely shucked out of his snowsuit before he ran into the living room. "Daddy," he said excitedly. "Hey, Champ," I said. "I've sure missed you." I can't begin to explain the feelings I get when I see my son. He looks so much like me that it is scary. I wish my mother were still alive to see it. You can put my pictures from the same age beside his and — aside from the fact I'm dressed in the height of 1970's fashion — you can barely tell a difference. If I could get Mark to dress in a mustard yellow shirt, a hunter green V-neck sweater and a white flowered tie (an ensemble that I wore in at least two sets of pictures from my 5th year) the photos might come out identical. My son is guileless. He has no agenda. He loves me unequivocally. He never questions my motives and he hasn't learned the eye roll or the sarcastic voice that Kasey has perfected. He loves me not because I provide him with food and clothing and transportation but because I am his father. To him, that is enough. To me, that is the world. I cried the very first time he told me he loved me. Perhaps I was feeling unloved that day but I don't think so. We were in the park playing on the swings. His smile was golden and his laughter was sweeter than the sweetest melody. I was pushing him on the swings and he kept chanting "higher, higher." I was feigning big pushes — more pressure on his back but toning down the actual arm velocity — because I thought he was going plenty high enough. But he loved it. He was relating a story about rocket ships, dragons, dinosaurs and haunted houses. I was doing my best to follow along and prompting him to add more to the story. I wanted to freeze that perfect day — my son's smiling face, laughter and imagination — in my mind forever. As I put him on my shoulders to for our trip home, he said it. I tell Mark I love him often. I want him to know it and I don't care who else knows it. I tell him I love him when he's being a pain at the grocery store. I tell him I love him when we're sitting on the couch watching a movie. I tell him I love him when I tuck him in at night and when he wakes up in the morning. I asked him that day if he had fun and he said it. He was midway twisted around my neck and holding on to my hair when he said it. "I love you, Daddy." I had my hands steadying Mark on my shoulders so my tears flowed freely. I couldn't even use my shoulder to dry them because he was on my shoulders. I didn't have a care in the world and the whole world could see me crying if they wanted. My son loves me. ------- Mark was talking a mile a minute relating the past few days and his program at church the night before — but his eyes would shift from me to Carrie about every other sentence. It was only a passing glance, like he wanted to make sure he wasn't imagining the person in Daddy's house. There was never anyone new at Daddy's house. As his story wound down I introduced him. "Mark, this is my friend Carrie," I told him. He accepted it as if I had just told him water was wet. "Carrie, this is my other pride and joy," I said. "My son, Mark." Carrie leaned forward on the couch. "I've heard a lot of great things about you from your Daddy and your Sissy," Carrie said. "They love you a lot." Mark tucked his chin on his chest in what appeared to me for all the world as a gesture of humility. But he stepped forward and extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you," he said. I thought Carrie's cheeks were going to split from the smile his introduction produced. "You too, Mark," she said as she took his tiny hand in hers. Kasey had been standing in the doorway — acting the part of neutral observer. But she was fighting with her emotions. She wanted to smile. I could see one battling to get there. Her eyes were smiling. I winked at her and she gave in. Suddenly all four of us were smiling. Mark crawled up on my lap and started talking about Christmas and playing in the snow. "Kasey, can you run me to the bank?" Carrie asked. "My insurance check came in yesterday but I was too busy to get it taken care of. The banks are closed Monday and I have some shopping I still need to do." Kasey glanced at me. Once again I need to get a primer on teenage glances. I had no idea what that glance meant. "We can all go," I said. "It's only 10 a.m. The bank will be open until noon. Is that OK?" "Sure," Carrie said. When I came back from getting another cup of coffee, Mark was on Carrie's lap. I sat down and Kasey sat down on mine. "This is nice, Daddy," she said. It was nice. I hated to ruin it but I knew I had to. "Kasey, can you help me in the kitchen?" I asked. Unlike my limited knowledge of glances, Kasey has my lexicon down pat. "What's up?" she asked when we turned the corner. I glanced furtively back into the living room. "Hon, we need to watch how close you and Mark get to Carrie," I cautioned. Anger spread across Kasey's face. It wasn't what I expected. "What did you do?" she asked hotly. "What did you say to her? Is she leaving?" I held up my hands to stem the flow of accusations. "I didn't do anything," I said. "I didn't say anything. And I hope she's not leaving. Why do you think that?" "I figured you were a dick to her," Kasey said. "Hey," I said angrily. I hated to lose my temper but I was on the verge. "Well, Dad," Kasey said smugly. "You can be a dick." "That is enough," I said. "You're not too big for me to wash your mouth out with soap and you're not too big for me to turn over my knee." Kasey took a small step backward. "This has nothing to do with where Carrie may or may not be going," I stated. "That decisions is hers to make and ours to make. It has nothing to do with you. Are we clear on that?" Kasey nodded and mumbled something unintelligible. It was probably just as well I didn't understand it. "I don't want your mother to feel as though you and Mark have found a replacement for her," I said. "I don't want hard feelings to crop up because she thinks you would rather spend time with Carrie than with her." "I would rather spend time with Carrie," Kasey said. "I would rather spend time with you too. She knows that and has accepted it." I sighed. For all her maturity there were portions of being an adult that Kasey still didn't get — such as the ability to view things from someone else's perspective. "Hon, how would you feel if your mom started to date a guy who had a teenage daughter?" I said softly. "And how you feel if your mom started to spend all her time doing things with this new girl instead of doing them with you?" "Relieved," Kasey muttered. I lowered my head. "OK, let's try this," I said. "How would you like it if Carrie had a teenage daughter and I started to spend all my time with her?" Kasey turned her eyes to me as if I were relating a real scenario. "Look at yesterday," I continued. "Carrie calls and you rush over. You spend all day here and the first thing this morning you come back. If I were here alone you might have done that one day but not both. I'm not saying that I don't want you to be friendly to and close to Carrie — or anyone else. I'm certainly not saying that I don't want you here — anytime you want to be here. I'm only asking that you take your mother's feelings into consideration when you're making decisions." Kasey gave me the answer I anticipated. "Like she took my feelings into account when she moved us down here?" she asked hotly. "No, the exact opposite of that, Sweetheart," I said. "Your mother was selfish. I expect more from you." The anger in Kasey's eyes abated. "What should I do, Dad?" she asked. "I really like Carrie. She's so much like you. She's easy to talk to and she doesn't jump to conclusions. Just like now, I know you were mad at me but you didn't yell. You explained it to me — in a way that I could understand." I nodded. "It's part of growing up," I said. "It's placing yourself in another's shoes before you act. It's something you learn, forget, then re-learn a dozen times when you are an adult. But let's not forget something, Kasey. "You're not an adult," I said firmly. "That means you watch your language when you're around me and you treat adults with respect. I don't care if you're angry and I don't care if you're disappointed. The next time you say something like that to me you might end up grounded or you might end up with a sore ass." "I'm sorry, Dad," she said. If it was insincere she was getting better at faking it. "I shouldn't have said that to you or about you. You have your moments but you're not what I said." "Apology accepted." "So, can I pick up the gift I gave Carrie for you? Or does it need washed," she asked. I know she was trying to goad me. "Yeah, about that," I said. "It goes back to you're not an adult yet. Why in the hell do you own something like that? I can't believe your mother let you buy it." Kasey smiled sweetly. "Don't worry, Dad," she insisted. "I promise you're the first person to actually see it on another human being. I hate pantyhose. I can't find a size that fits. They either ride up my crotch or pool around my ankles. So I wear that instead." "Good," I replied. It was the best I could think of. "So, you liked it, huh?" she asked with raised eyebrows. "Now about that paddling you keep promising. I've been looking forward to that since I was 13. You keep offering but you never deliver." I could only shake my head. She leaned up and kissed me on the end of my nose. Then she walked away with an exaggerated sway in her hips. "You are one weird kid," I said to her retreating back. Kasey looked over her shoulder, blew me a kiss — and added even more sway to her walk. "I'm heading back to the house," she announced brightly. "I'm sure Mom has a ton of stuff that needs done and a butt-load of last-minute Christmas shopping. Sorry, Dad. A lot of last-minute Christmas shopping to do." She gave Mark a kiss on his forehead and leaned across and to give Carrie a kiss on the cheek. I was left to settle for the one I'd gotten on the nose as she sashayed out the door — her hips still shimmying back and forth. I sat down heavily and Mark crawled from Carrie's lap to mine. Carrie looked at me questioningly. "I tried to get across the point that it would be foolish to alienate the other parental unit," I said. Carrie nodded and smile. "What did he eat?" Mark asked. I wondered what I missed. "You said the alien ate something," Mark clarified. "What did he eat?" "Your brain," I said and started tickling him. The house was filled with two adults and one child laughing uproariously. ------- We got Carrie's bank account set up pretty easily. Her house in Walden must have been one hell of a dwelling because the check was for more than $700,000. She kept a $2,500 in cash — because she wouldn't have checks or anything more than a debit card for 7-10 business days. She wanted to transfer funds to my account but I refused. It wasn't necessary and I joked that there was a buzzer at Kelly's house. When my account hit 3 digits the buzzer went off and her lawyer came to claim the money. "Mike, you've paid for everything for the last week," she said. "You've bought all the food. You paid for the hotel rooms in Malden. You've put gas in the car for every trip we've taken. You and Kelly financed my whole wardrobe. And I can only imagine how much last night cost." "Last night didn't cost anything," I corrected. "That was paid for by the paper. The rest of the stuff I was happy to do. Kelly will probably want some of her loot back but I'm not even sure about that. Besides, I like the fact that you feel you owe me one." She slid over next to me and glanced toward the back seat where Mark was in his booster seat. "I owe you more than one," she said. "I promise I'll pay up. We'll talk about this later. But for now, do you think Kelly would mind if I join her for some shopping?" I can honestly say that I had no idea of what Kelly might think. "Well," I hedged. "I'm almost positive that she will tell you 'no' if she minds. Or at least she has never hesitated to tell me 'no' about things she minded. Are you going to be OK if she tells you that?" "Sure," Carrie said. "Look, I'd like to be friends with her but it is not going to bother me if she won't allow it. It's not going to lessen my self-worth if that's what you're worried about." She was laughing, at least. "I was more worried about you telling her off and some certain someone behind us hearing some words that probably could wait a year or so," I answered. "I guess there is that," Carrie said. "Let me have your phone." "What's the magic word?" I asked playfully. "Now," she said in a forceful voice. "Or at least that's my magic word for you." "OK, please," she said a moment later when I was still looking straight ahead. "Pretty please with sugar on top? Pretty please with whipped cream and me on top of you?" I glanced at Mark in the mirror but he was absorbed by a book he was looking at. Carrie chuckled and shook her head. "I'm careful, Mike," she said. I shrugged and nodded. "I worry," I said. "It's not only new to me and you it's new to them." "I know, hon," she said as she dialed Kelly's number. Kelly was actually happy to hear from her and was already at the mall. Kasey was excited, too. I was instructed to simply drop Carrie off and they would bring her home. Carrie leaned across the seat and kissed me before she got out. "Love you," she whispered. I replied in kind. It felt nice. Then she turned and gave Mark a high five. "See ya later, alligator," she said. Mark looked at her like she was an idiot. I could see his mind working and it was saying, "what in the world does that mean?" "She's going to shop with your Mom and Sissy, Champ," I interpreted. "She is saying that she will see you when she gets back to my house." The confusion cleared off Mark's face. "OK," he said cheerfully. "Bye, Carrie." Carrie was shaking her head when we pulled away from the curb. ------- Chapter 11 Mark and I spent our Saturday as we had so many before — doing nothing but a whole lot of it. We put together some Lego's and read a couple of books. We spent time playing knights and dragons and we built a snowman. We took a nap together on the couch and fixed tuna sandwiches for lunch. All in all, it was a good time for both us. It was almost 8 p.m. when I saw headlights in the drive. The fact that the headlights turned off and so did the ignition led me to believe the Kasey was accompanying Carrie inside. Or perhaps Carrie needed a forklift for all her packages. I stood up help bring things in the house. Instead my door opened and Carrie and Kasey stepped in the doorway. They had only a few things. "Need help?" I asked before I saw them step to the side. Kelly was standing on the porch. "Is it OK if I come in?" she asked. In the years that I had lived there Kelly had never gone farther than the porch. It was the way I preferred it. It was the way she preferred it. I was the same at her house. Sidewalk? No problem. Front yard? That's fine. Driveway? No big deal. Porch? OK. Inside the house, not unless the other was in danger. Then it probably would require an explanation. "Yeah," I said. "Come in. It's freezing out there." I saw Carrie and Kasey's faces relax as Kelly came in and started to unbundle. "Mark is down for the night," I said. "I hope that's not a problem." "No problem," Kelly said sweetly. "I know we're running late. I should have called." My mind shot back to the numerous time I had been forced to carry Mark out to Kelly's car because she insisted he sleep at her house. I bit my lip and nodded. "So, anything left the mall or are they going to have to rebuild after the holidays?" I asked just to keep from saying something snarky. "A few things," Kasey said. "Nothing decent. Stuff you would wear but nothing we'd consider." She stuck her tongue out at me. "Says the girl whose closet as recently as four days ago consisted solely of black T-shirts and ratty-assed jeans," Kelly said with a laugh. Kasey and I both turned to her in shock. Kelly was not known for her biting humor. "Yeah, I meant to tell you this morning how pretty you looked," I said. "You really do look great, Kase." She smiled sweetly. "I think what your father means is that you look terrible and he doesn't ever want to see you in decent pants and a shirt that doesn't show your navel ever again," Kelly chimed in. "Isn't that what you mean, Mike?" Everyone laughed. "Dead on, Kelly," I said. "How come I never see you wearing those nice things like the other kids? Don't you have a crop top and Daisy Dukes that show half your ass that you can wear?" Kasey slapped my arm. "You'll be happy to know, Daddy, that I do not own a pair of Daisy Dukes," Kasey answered. "And my tops are tastefully cut or I wear them only in my room. I've told you a dozen times, Dad. Reverse psychology doesn't work when the subject is smarter than you are." The three women (or two women and Kasey, or one woman, one shrew and Kasey, whatever) went to the living room to relive all the great things they bought. I went to the kitchen. "Coffee or tea, Kelly?" I asked. "Either," she said. "Well, it's not like I'm flying to Colombia or India just for you," I replied. "I have both and you are welcome to either." I probably should have thought out my response better but it slipped out without thinking. Kelly turned with a small smile. "Old habits are hard to break, aren't they?" she said. "If you are fixing coffee for yourself or for Carrie, I would prefer that. If you are only fixing tea for Kasey and Carrie, I am OK with that, too. Thank you, Mike." "You're welcome," I said. "The coffee is already brewed. Still cream and sugar?" Kelly nodded and I brought her cup in. "The tea will be done steeping in a couple of minutes, ladies," I said. Kelly took a sip of her coffee and sighed. "This is just about the only thing I miss about being married to you," Kelly said. "Mike fixes the best cup of coffee I've ever tasted. No, that's not right. Mike's Dad fixed the best cup of coffee I've ever tasted. Mike is a close second, though." "Mom, do you want to see my room?" Kasey asked. "Do you mind, Mike?" Kelly asked. "You put away the whips and chains didn't you, Kasey?" I asked. "Oh wait, I was beating Mark with those this evening so they're in his room." "Dad, I'm about to use that word again," Kasey warned. "Then you know I won't need whips and chains for what comes next," I replied. "Sorry, Kelly. You may wander the house unimpeded. And I'm sorry if I was a dick. That was the word Kasey planned to call me." "Kasey, I better never hear you say that about your Father," Kelly warned. "And I better never hear you say that about your Father or I'll tattle on you," Carrie said. Kelly and Kasey went down the hall to check out the bedroom and I'm sure to make sure Mark was OK. Carrie took the opportunity to slide closer to me and plant a kiss on my lips. "Have fun today?" I asked. "If you count overt interrogation as fun," she said. "It was alright. It was awkward at the beginning. Kelly was less subtle than Kasey about her questions. I don't know if she expected to embarrass me or if she wanted to intimidate me but I put a stop to it pretty quickly." I know I shot a withering glance down the hallway. "It's taken care of, Mike," she assured me. "Seriously, it lasted about 10 minutes before I pulled her aside and told her to knock it off or I'd start firing back. I told her that if she was worried about how I would treat her kids then she should be smart enough to know that you would never allow that to happen. If she was worried about how I would treat you then that was between you and me. And if she was feeling nostalgic about something then she should have considered that before she put the ex- in front of husband. Things got easier after she saw I wasn't a doormat." I chuckled. It was just about the only way to handle Kelly. She would push you as far as she could push you. But the first time you pushed back she would stop. "I'm surprised Kasey let it get that far," I said. "I told Kasey to stay the hell out of it," Carrie answered. "That whatever happened or whatever was said just to mind her own business." "And she listened?" I asked. "What is the secret to that?" Carrie smiled and shook her head. "Trade secret," she said. "If I tell ya, I gotta kill ya." "Hey I want some of that action, at least the killing part," Kelly said from behind us. "Mark has told me a hundred times about his bed here but I had to see it to get the full impact. And the less said about Kasey's room the better. But I understand why you allowed her to do that. You realize that you're never going to be able to paint over that black don't you? I thought about allowing her to paint her room at my house that way but my dad said it would take a dozen coats of primer to cover it." "It won't be me painting it," I said. "It will stay black until the day I move out. Then the landlord can deal with it." "You rent?" Carrie asked. "I thought you owned this house." I bit off the real reason that I rented instead of owning a home. Kelly plowed right ahead. "He doesn't want too many encumbrances if I up and move again," she said. "He got stuck with trying to get rid of our last house and, well, I made sure he barely had enough money to afford to eat. There was no way he could have afforded to pay rent somewhere. If our house wasn't paid off, he probably would have been out on the street." There was a sadness to her voice instead of the pride that it usually held when discussing her large child support endowment. "But it bit you on the ass in the end, didn't it?" I said. "It did," Kelly said ruefully. "Square on the ass. I still have the teeth marks." In a wholly uncharacteristic move, she turned around and lifted her shirt to show her jeans-covered behind. She was smiling when she turned back around. "I guess you probably can't see them, Carrie," she said. "But take my word, they're there. The judge said I vacated the house willingly so I forfeited any equity in it. All Mike had to do was live there for a year and a day and it was his completely. I had already known that he would granted primary wage-earner status. Honestly, he was the sole wage-earner for most of our marriage. He was going to get 70 percent of everything anyway. But when they took the 30 percent away from me I was a tad bit pissed off. "Honestly, it's only been in the past year or so that I realized why he made me jump though so many hoops. If I had to do it over, I'd do it differently. But I can't so I just have to try to make things up to the kids the best I can." "What about making it up to Mike?" Carrie asked. I wasn't certain it was her place to jump in at that point but she was already there so there was nothing I could do about it. "There is nothing I can do to make it up to Mike," she said with conviction. "Except what I do. I am probably the only person in the world that Mike treats like a dog. Mike is certainly the only person in the world I allow to treat me like a dog. Just like you told me today, if anyone else but Mike said some of things to me that he has said, I probably would rip their lungs out. With Mike, I might say something back but usually I just take it because I know why he feels that way." Carrie looked at me. "We spoke about this earlier in the week," I said. "I think we are going to try to develop a better way of communicating. But it's not going to be easy." "Hard feelings take time to go away," Kelly intoned. "But I hope they do." "Hey, it's the first time we've been in the same room without an attorney or a judge in five years," I said. "I would guess it's a start. And to this point, neither of us has called the other a nasty name." "Except Kasey," Carrie put in. "And if that keeps up there are going to be major problems," Kelly said. "I guess I'm used to her attitude but it is unacceptable that she has expanded to Mike." "We joke and sometimes the boundary between Father-Teenager and Father-Adult gets a little blurred," I said. "But you can rest assure that I never called my father a name. Or if I did you can bet it was only once. Same with my mom." Kelly and Carrie were nodding. "But kids today are different," Kelly said. "We've coddled them so much. Our generation was raised with a sense of entitlement that we've expanded and passed on to our children. We're definitely doing them a disservice. I hate to think what Kasey's children are going to act like." "I guess I'm fortunate that my folks were older," I said. Kelly agreed. "Your parents were the same age as my grandparents," she said. "They raised you with different values, different expectations. I think that was part of our problem, Mike. We looked at the world so differently. You were resigned to the fact that it would take time and hard work to get ahead. I thought it was owed to me. As many years as I was in school, no one told me that happiness wasn't a birthright. No one mentioned to me that the only way to find happiness was through yourself. "I always blamed Mike for the fact that I wasn't happy. He didn't make enough money. He didn't have enough free time. He didn't want to do what I wanted to. I still blamed him four years after we divorced. He wanted to spent too much time with the kids. He didn't pay enough in child support. He wasn't fitting into the neat little spot I had reserved for him in my view of things. "I realized a few months ago that through our marriage and after it, Mike was in the same situation as I was. He lived the exact same life that I led when we were together. He woke up in the same house with the same bank account and the same kids. And he was happy. He was happy because he refused to be unhappy. He would find happiness in spending an hour or two with Kasey — or even with me. I would watch his face light up over a raspberry milkshake, for God's sake. I think the fact that Mike was happy was what led me to finally file for divorce. I think if you're honest, Mike, you'll admit that we were headed there eventually. But at the same time, it wasn't something that I spent months debating. "I made up my mind one day and filed for divorce the next. I know you've always doubted this but I swear it is true. The job I applied for down here came after I contacted a divorce attorney. I planned to find a house nearby or, more likely, try to make you find a new place. The job offer here came while I was waiting for the paperwork to be finalized. That just made things easier for me." There were tears in Kelly's eyes. "The only time I was happy was when I saw how miserable I was making you," she continued. "That is a sad testament to my life and especially to our life together. The move down here wasn't a plan. But when I saw how well it worked, how unhappy it made you, well I was tickled. I know you dragged me back over there for months on end to try to make a point. It didn't work. I was willing to travel that distance because I knew you were unhappy. In fact, I started to enjoy it. I started to enjoy going over there and seeing how miserable you were. You had bags under your eyes. Your clothes were wrinkled. Sometimes, I could smell last night's alcohol on you. It was the capper for a great weekend for me. "Then you showed up here. I'll never forget that day, Mike. I was at Kasey's school to pick her up for dentist's appointment. And I saw you standing there. I mean, it was your weekend but you usually couldn't make it in until late Friday night or early Saturday morning. Kasey saw you standing there, dropped her book bag and raced to you. She knocked two or three kids out of the way to get to her Dad. I got back in the car and drove to Mark's babysitter. I knew that I needed to have him ready or that you would have me back in front that awful judge on Monday morning." "I would have, too," I supplied. "I know you would have," she agreed. "I hated that woman. She was supposed to be on my side. When you pulled up at the house I tried to act surprised to see you but I knew Kasey had already filled you in on the dentist's appointment. Then you handed me your change of address and I about cried. All my fun was coming to an end. You gathered Mark up and took Kasey to her appointment — after you chastised me for not informing you, as I'm required to do. I sat down to try to figure what I could do next to make things hard for you. I guess that's when I first realized the lengths I was going to. "I mean, Kasey made her opinion on the matter known but she'd already chosen to live with me so I figured that wouldn't change." "I told the judge I would live with you if he forced Mark to," Kasey said from the doorway. I wondered how much she had heard and I didn't want to witness a confrontation. "Your Mom has been telling us about he she has revised her thinking," I said. I hoped to delay the volcano eruption. "Not revised, completely altered," Kelly put in. "I talked to Kasey about things this morning — on a general level." Kasey plopped down on my lap. "I think it really crashed home to me about four or five months ago," Kelly continued. "Kasey, I'm sure you remember this conversation so jump in if I leave something out. Mike, you and I were bickering about something. Something silly, I'm equally sure. When you moved back here not only did you spoil my fun of making you unhappy, you started to make life rough for me. You forced me to abide by the letter of the custody agreement. The day the judge told me that it was a legal document, not just a suggestion that I could ignore when I chose to really steamed me. Anyway, we were back and forth about something and Kasey overheard me. She asked me point blank what I planned to do when Mark turned 7. She told me, the courts will give him a voice in where he wants to live at age 7 if he requests it. She told me that she planned to make sure he knew the facts and that she could almost guarantee that a month after Mark's 7th birthday I would find myself in an empty house and I would have to learn to deal with only seeing Mark two weekends a month. "Then she flat-out told me that when that happened it would be the very last time she ever darkened my door. She told me she was there to watch out for Mark and to make sure that I didn't fill his head with bullshit — and yes, she used that word but I couldn't really blame her — but when she didn't have to worry about that then she wouldn't have to worry about pretending to give a shit about me anymore." "She needed to hear that, Daddy," Kasey said in her defense. Since she was sitting on my lap she could feel me tense as Kelly spoke. "I hope I've been better in the last few months," Kelly said. "I've tried to think before I speak and to think first of the kids before I act. It hasn't always worked but I've tried." "I've noticed and I've tried, too," I said. "I didn't always try very hard but I tried." Kelly smiled ruefully. "Over the last few months there have been different things that bothered me," she said. "First off, I didn't like the fact that if my Mom or Dad wanted anything from you, you moved heaven and earth to do it. You are willing to adjust your schedule — even the visitation schedule — for them and you never would for me." "I didn't dislike your parents and your parents had never gone out of their way to antagonize me," I stated. "Yes, I realized that," Kelly said with a smile. "Secondly, it bothered me that you are more successful without me than you were when we were together. That event you went to last night was always something I wanted — I felt was owed to me. I probably would have been happy if you had achieved everything you have in the last few years while we were together. I didn't want to be married to the Giants beat writer or the news editor of a small paper. "But as soon as I was gone you became the press secretary for a well-spoken candidate. Mike, I've been around you long enough to know that most of her words were yours. There are a couple of phrases that you use that I've never heard from anyone else — well anyone else but that candidate. Then before I knew it you were running the paper here. The J-school dean asked me last summer if you would consider teaching a class there. I told him that you didn't even a degree in journalism let along a doctorate. He laughed and said you had perfected the application of arcane theory which was for more worthwhile in the grand scheme of things." "As you might know, my entire field is arcane theory," she said without a trace of bitterness. "I think that is when the final piece dropped into place for me. I had overlooked or forgotten the fact that you are good at whatever you try. You were good as a writer and as an editor. Then you moved into design and you were good there too. You were a good father and a good husband when you tried. It bothered me last week when you said that we didn't care enough about the other to fight over things. But I think you are partially right. We didn't fight about anything until after the divorce. It was then that I realized how much you care." "I suppose I cared," I said. "I think I was resigned to the fact that you weren't happy being married to me. I honestly wished you were happy, Kelly, and for a while I tried to make you happy." "That wasn't in your power, Mike," she said. I nodded my agreement. "What I saw that it was fruitless I just left you alone," I continued. "It became enough for me to make sure that Kasey was happy. But Kelly, anything that I've done in the past 5 years wouldn't have been possible if we had stayed married. Quitting the paper and helping with the campaign was a risk I couldn't have taken if I still had you and the kids to worry about. The same with taking over a paper. It wasn't possible where I was. You know that. But since you were over here I had to find a job where I could take off weekends. That's the only reason I left. My job at the paper didn't give me time to spend with my kids. It took you leaving before I was able to get over my fear of failure to try something like this." Kelly smiled gently. "From your perspective, maybe," she said. "But here are the facts from my side. Yes, the political thing was a sidelight. It was something that worked out well for you but it really is ancillary to the facts. You took the time to lay the groundwork for where you are. Mike, I was there for many years. I know how a newspaper works. Anything that I missed, I have Kasey as a resource. She could probably take over your job in four of five years. She certainly has studied the rudiments of newspaper management faithfully for the last few years. "When you applied for the job here, I have heard since, there was no question that you got it," she said. "As soon as they interviewed you they called the other candidates back and canceled their visits. You were the only person who had done every single job that you manage. You have covered high school and professional sports. You have written obituaries and breaking news. You've taken photographs and designed pages. There are others who know how to do those things. But you've actually done it. You have perfected the application of arcane theory." She sat back with resignation. "And I didn't stick around long enough to reap the benefits of your hard work," she said. "So I get to sit and watch you take Carrie last night and make arrangements to take our daughter to the Humane Society event. I get to listen to my colleagues tell me how impressed they are whenever they meet you. The always ask the same question: 'Are you Mike Cavenaugh's sister?' because none of them could conceive of the possibility that I had married you and then divorced you. Well, at least they can't after the second of third time they meet you." I shook my head. "I get the same question," I told her. "Carrie? What is the first thing you asked me?" "If I could eat one of the cookies," she said with an evil grin. "No, actually as soon as he introduced himself I asked if he was related to you." "And he quickly denied it," Kelly said with a small smile. "Oh, he denied it," Carrie admitted. "But he told me he was married to you for a dozen years. And he quickly claimed the kids." Kelly glanced up at our daughter and smiled. "We probably should be getting home, Kase," she said. "It's getting late. Do you want me to carry Mark to the car or can he stay here?" "Here is fine, if you don't mind," I replied. She glanced up at Kasey. "Do you want to stay, too?" she asked. "I mean, you'll be back in the morning since Mike is letting me have you for Christmas." "I'll go with you, Mom," Kasey said as she climbed off my lap. "Dad, do you need me to get Mark in the morning?" "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Kel, you want to keep them until about 3 or so? When are your parents coming in?" "It'll be Christmas morning," she said. "They are driving up for dinner and then going straight back down. They couldn't find anyone to stay with Grandpa." She smiled and winked at me. "Unless you want Dad to drop him off here to argue politics with you," she added. "No thanks!" I said. "I don't have your self-restraint. I think I probably would smother him." I walked out the entryway with Kelly and Kasey. Carrie followed in our wake. "Kelly, do you need any help tomorrow with stuff?" Carrie asked. "Kasey said your Mom usually helps with the cooking. I can come over and help or we can even make things here too and bring over." "That might be nice," she said. "If you're not busy." Carrie laughed. "I am as unbusy as any person you are likely to find," she said. "I'm not even planning to start investigating my business options until after the first of the year. I'll be over in the morning. Kasey, we still on for a run in the morning?" "You know it," Kasey said with glee. "I'll meet you here about 8. Then you, me and Mark will head back to help Mom for a while. That way Dad can get his beauty sleep — or do his Christmas shopping more likely." Kasey turned her cheek up to me for a kiss but I got her back by kissing her nose, which she wrinkled at me as soon as I was done. "See you tomorrow, Shortstuff," I said. Then I did something I never thought I would do again — I gave my ex-wife a kiss on the cheek. "It was nice to talk to you, Kelly," I said. "I hope we can do that more often." Kelly, seemingly shocked by my actions, went one further and gave me a brief, stilted hug. "I'd like that," she said. "I'm sorry it's taken this long." ------- Chapter 12 I didn't want to assume that Carrie wanted me to join her in bed again so I bided my time by watching something inane on television — yes, I realize that is repetitive. Carrie was winding down but she had snuggled up next to me so I didn't mind. "Are you planning to carry me to bed?" she asked between yawns. "Maybe I was just planning to cuddle with you here on the couch," I replied. "Tomorrow night," she said. "Tonight you can cuddle with me in a nice soft bed." It was all the invitation I needed. The television and lights were shut off in record fashion. I started to turn off the lights on the Christmas tree but Carrie stopped me. "This is nice," she said dreamily. "You know, the last two years I didn't even put a Christmas tree. I didn't see the point since there was no one there to enjoy it but me." I nodded because I knew if it hadn't been for the kids I would have dispensed with it years ago — or at least moved to an artificial one I could stash in the attic, fully adorned, for next year. But the kids enjoyed the annual Christmas tree hunt and even Kasey still enjoyed decorating it. So I had a 6-foot-tall fir tree leaking needles all over my house. I would be vacuuming up those damned things until the Fourth of July. But looking at Carrie's face as she watched the flickering lights made it even more worth it. "Does Mark sleep soundly?" Carrie wondered when we got into the bedroom. "Usually," I answered. "He gets an occasional nightmare and thunderstorms scare the crap out of him but other than that once he's down he's out." "So he's not likely to come in here during the night?" she asked as she took off what was left of her clothing. I shook my head because I was still mesmerized by the sight of her nude body. "If he wakes up I'll hear him," I said. "I don't sleep very soundly when the kids are here. If there is a problem, I go in and lay on his floor beside him until he falls back asleep." Carrie didn't put on a night shirt, she just crawled into our bed in all her naked glory. "I put a shirt by the bed just in case," she said. "But I truly enjoyed waking up nude in your arms this morning." I had nothing to argue with so I set out a pair of shorts and crawled into bed beside her. In an instant she molded herself around me and put her head on my shoulder. "One night, when we're alone, I want to sleep on top of you with you still inside me," she whispered in my ear as her hand traced circles on my chest. "But tonight, Christmas Eve eve, I want to sleep beside you and dream of where we are going to go next." She kissed me softly on the lips, then on the cheek and then the shoulder. "I love you," she whispered. I kissed her softly on top of the head. "I love you, too, Carrie Walton," I answered. We slept that way until morning. ------- When I awoke in the morning I had one hand on Carrie's knee, which was draped over my waist. My other arm was beneath her shoulder with my arm circling her waist — or at least I think it was. I'd lost feeling in the appendage at some point in the night and I didn't have ability — or the urge, really — to move it. I was pleasantly trapped. I kissed the top of Carrie's head to rouse her from her slumber. "Happy Christmas Eve, love," I told her when she looked up at me. Carrie planted a small kiss on my chin. "Toothbrushes first, then kisses," she mumbled. I watched her cute bottom as she wandered to the bathroom. I followed her in carrying my shorts and her shirt. "Running water is the signal for Mark that it's OK to get up," I said. "You might consider panties, too. But believe me, that's only for his benefit. When we're alone you certainly don't need to wear them." We finished scraping our teeth and Carrie gave me a good-morning kiss and semi-grope. "I'm going to the hall bath," I said. "Take your time." "Don't wanna watch me pee yet?" she asked with a giggle. "Not something that fascinates me," I answered. "Maybe later." "Yeah, much later," Carrie replied. "Like when we're 80 years old and have to help each other in here. I think I can wait until then." She was lifting her nightshirt and eyeing the toilet nervously so I exited and closed the door behind me. Mark was standing at his door waiting for me to come out of my room. "It's Christmas, Daddy!" he said excitedly. "And it's snowing." I scooped him into my arms — as I do every morning he's with me — for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Of course I usually have emptied my bladder first so it wasn't the best idea I've ever had. "Go in to the living room for a minute, Champ," I said. "Carrie is in my bathroom so I have to use yours." "I have to go, too," Mark informed me. Well, that took precedence, let me tell you. I was in little danger of wetting myself — at least for two minutes — and I was tall enough to piss in the kitchen sink if it came right down to it. If Mark had been holding it for any length of time neither could be said for him. Mark shuttled into the bathroom, just in time from the sounds of things, and I stood in the hallway hopping from foot to foot. "Oh, poor man," Carrie said from behind me. "Last in line. Well, yours is free." "I have to wait until he's done," I said. "Sometimes he needs a little help getting things situated." Carrie laughed sweetly. "I can wait here and let him know you'll be right back," she said. I decided to risk it. When I returned to the hallway Carrie was helping Mark adjust his underwear and straighten his jeans. Mark seemed as unconcerned about having a stranger doing things below his waist that I decided that he and I were going to have a refresher course on "good touch, bad touch" before he returned to kindergarten, just in case. Carrie looked up smiled shyly. "He was a mess," she said. "His pajama bottoms were twisted and his underwear was up in front and down in the back. He couldn't have been comfortable." Mark just nodded his confirmation. He was OK with shorts but long pants were a problem for him. Of course his mother had introduced him to dropping his pants to around his ankles every time he went to the facilities — without regard to whether he was sitting or standing — so he essentially had to redress himself each time. Maybe it was time to introduce him to the slob's way of peeing, too. Mark was his usual cheerful self at breakfast. He filled Carrie in on his friends at kindergarten and his favorite stories and books. Carrie asked him leading questions to keep him talking and she moved the conversation from one subject to another seamlessly. Or maybe it was Mark who deftly handled the segues and Carrie simply followed his lead. I sipped my coffee and nibbled on toast and Carrie nursed a glass of orange juice because she was waiting for Kasey's appearance for their morning run. My daughter came bounding into the room dressed like an Eskimo on top and a ballerina on the bottom, minus the tutu, of course. She somehow had found — or purchased, more likely — a pair of running tights similar to Carrie's. I shot my girlfriend a withering glance. Carrie at least had the grace to blush. And I noticed she was wearing a pair of running shorts over her tights when she came out a few minutes later. "Your bottom will freeze if you don't layer up, Kase," Carrie said. I think Kasey had caught my glare — and I didn't care if she did — so she headed back to her room and came back a few seconds later with shorts over her tights, too. "Be careful," I said as they prepared to head out. "Most of these old folks won't shovel their walks until Spring. It might look like snow but there is probably ice underneath the snow." Carrie looked outside at my snow-covered walk before she spoke. "How about the roads?" she asked. "One lane if they've been plowed at all," I answered. Kasey nodded. "It looks like they plowed the main roads but barely," she added. "The side streets are still covered." "We'll keep it short then," Carrie announced. "Just don't break an ankle or a hip," I said. "That goes double for you, Kasey. You run enough around here that you know where's safe. All I ask is that you stick to where you know and think safety first." "Of course, Daddy," she said. What I really worried about was Kasey trying to impress Carrie with a daring dash up a trail or some other stupid thing like that and that we'd all spend Christmas Eve in the emergency room. I thought Carrie would have enough sense to keep things calm but when adrenaline starts pumping common sense goes by the wayside. Mark plopped himself down for a few minutes of destroying his brain in front of the TV set. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I even own one of those damned things. Despite his protests, Nickelodeon went off and a Dora the Explorer DVD went in. At least I could hope Mark might gain a few words of Spanish while I showered. He was still watching Dora — paying no heed to the fact that he had seen the thing so often he should be able to quote it — and I remembered exactly why a TV still existed in my household: instant babysitter. Alas, all good things must end and Dora found her friends or the gold or whatever it is Dora looks for and Mark was ready to hit the great outdoors for fun and frolicking in the snow. I believe I might have mentioned that winter is not my favorite season. In fact, if the temperature never dropped below 70 degrees again I would be pleased. I am not a "Global Warming Denier" as the media paints anyone who dares to question why it is 10 degrees cooler this year than last. I am a "Global Warming Anticipator." I knew Mark was headed back to his Mom's soon so I'd have to get him dressed in 33 layers of clothing anyway. I figured I might as well get a head start. It is times such as these I pity my children. When I was a child I was permitted outside when the temperature was less than 50 with only my jeans, my sweater, my jacket and my gloves. If it was super cold, like negative numbers, I added long johns to my arsenal. Not my kids. The first flake of snow and Mark is forced to put on so many clothes that he wobbles. He resembles Humpty Dumpy but there is no way he would break if he fell. He might bounce but he won't break. I'm not even certain it is possible for him to fall. Perhaps he is the Weebles version of Humpty Dumpty. The worst hell I ever caught from Kelly during our marriage was the day I wrapped a blanket around Kasey, who was about 3 at the time, and drove to the store instead of bundling her up from head to foot in Thinsulate. By the time Mark makes it from Kelly's car to my door he is sweating. Hell, he is sweating by the time he manages to peel off the first dozen or so layers. And yet my poor son was ready to face life on the Arctic tundra before he and I left the house that morning. I fail to see how a child can possibly have fun in the snow if, first, he can still feel his extremities, and second, it is impossible for him to even bend over to reach the snow let alone find a good handful to make a snowball. I, on the other hand, had several snowballs at my disposal for when Carrie and Kasey made their grand re-appearance. In the meantime, I shoveled my walk and the driveway. ------- I didn't get the chance to bombard the females upon their return. They came from the opposite direction from where I expected them and they were upon me before I knew it. They also spotted my stash of snowballs and threatened me with dire consequences if I even considered it. Since it was obvious that I had already considered it, I decided their threats were idle. Kasey came out of the house a few minutes later and I drove her and Mark back to their mother's. "Tell Carrie I'll see her about 11," Kasey said. "See ya, Daddy," Mark said as he gave me as good a high-five as he could muster considered he was anchored in a 52-point safety seat and had on so many clothes he couldn't lift his arm past his waist. I was still shaking my head when I returned to the house. It was eerily quiet when I went inside. It reminded me of my life before Carrie had arrived. I stood there looking around before I heard Carrie coming down the hallway. She was carrying a towel — but she was wearing nothing. "Wanna get dirty before we get clean?" she asked with a naughty smile. It sounded like a marvelous idea to me. After we rolled around on the bed for a while and took a shower together — then rolled around on the bed a little more, if you must know — Carrie joined me at the table. "What are you going to do today?" she asked. "I have some things to wrap and I plan to fix a ham for dinner tonight," I said. "Why didn't you tell me?" Carrie wondered. "I could have stayed here to help you instead of going over to help Kelly." I really had no answer. "It's no big deal," I said. "I drop the ham into the oven, toss some green beans on the stove and heat up some mashed potatoes in the microwave. There is very little preparation to what I do here. In fact, if the ham that I cut off last weekend hasn't turned hairy, I must just serve it and save the other for later." Carrie was shaking her head in mock disdain. "Besides, Christmas dinner with Kelly's family is a major production," I told her. "If her brother and sister are coming then everything has to be perfect — and if it were perfect those two would still complain about it. "'This turkey is too moist, '" I said in a whiny voice. "'This stuffing has just the right amount of oysters in it. I hate it.'" Carrie laughed. "Oh come on, it can't be that bad," she said. "Believe me, compared to my mom I'm sure Kelly's family is a piece of cake." "'I can't believe you make a cake from scratch, '" I continued in my whiny voice. "'You only did that because you knew I was on a diet.' "OK," I said in my normal voice — which is only slightly less whiny. "I might be exaggerating. But not much. Her sister has been married 3 or 4 times. She is a real piece of work. And her brother, don't get me started on that SOB." "I thought you liked Kelly's mom," Carrie joked. "I do," I answered. "But I doubt she claims him anymore. He made his wife sign a pre-nup that states he will not be liable for any child support if she gets pregnant." Carrie scoffed. "Not worth the paper it's written on," she said. I nodded. "When his attorney told him that he asked her to get her tubes tied," I said with I'm sure a healthy dollop of incredulousness in my voice. "Believe it or not, Kelly is the sanest one of that whole group." Carrie smile indulgently at me. "I found Kelly to be entirely sane," she said. "She is a bit confused but sane. So, what do you think of what she had to say last night now that you've had time to reflect on it?" I suppose I had time to reflect on it. But I hadn't. "I don't really think anything of it," I said. "Am I required to?" "Yes," she answered. "Don't you think it would be better for your children if you could have a civil conversation with their mother?" "Why should they be any different than any of their friends with separate parents?" I wondered. It might sound like a joke but I was serious. "Mike, damn it," Carrie said with exasperation. "OK, since you haven't thought about it, what is your initial reaction?" I tried to make my initial reaction make me sound less like a dick than I probably am. Maybe Kasey was right because it didn't work. "Her usual self-serving bullshit," I announced. Carrie's eyes went wide. "I thought it took a lot of guts to come here and admit some of the things she admitted," she said. "Especially in front of her daughter and a stranger." "That's why I think it is self-serving bullshit," I replied. "Look, after you've been around her for a little while you'll realize that Kelly says or does absolutely nothing without an agenda. I'm sure she is feeling threatened by your burgeoning relationship with Kasey. So she wants Kasey — and you — to think she sees the error of her ways and that she is determined to forge a new understanding with me for the benefit of the children. It doesn't matter to me because I am usually civil to her around the children and I don't speak badly about her when they can hear." "Wow," Carrie said in disbelief. "I must have been listening to a different conversation. I got the impression that she wanted to repair the relationship with Kasey for Kasey's benefit and she wanted to repair the relationship with you for her own benefit." "Same conversation, different perspectives," I said. "So you don't believe she is worried about the, how did you phrase it, burgeoning relationship I'm developing with you?" she asked. "No," I replied. "Why should she be?" "You're a dolt," Carrie informed me. I was aware of that already so I didn't feel the need to reply. "Did you hear anything Kasey said to you the other night?" she continued. I will admit there is a distinct possibility I had tuned Kasey out — wait until you have a teenager in the house before you take umbrage with me — so I told Carrie she would have to be more specific. "Kasey and Kelly both said almost the exact same thing," Carrie pointed out. "The person Kelly views as ideal for her is the person she discarded. I think the conversation last night was more for your ears than anyone else's. She wants you to hear that she is proud of what you've accomplished and that she has matured from the person she was when she filed for divorce." I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. "OK, I'll bite," I said. "Although I don't for one moment believe that is the case, if it were the case I don't believe it to be true. Even if it is true I don't care. Even if I would care why would it matter?" Carrie actually was able to follow my statement without pause. "Because she was serving notice — to you and to me — that she will be a part of your life because you have children and a past together," she said. "And because of that relationship she believes she has the inside track to you." It was difficult not to laugh. Only the thought that Carrie might be right — and the fact that it made me throw up a little in my mouth — kept me from rolling on the floor. "Then I foresee dire disappointment in Kelly's future," I stated firmly. Carrie seemed to relax. "What did you think of the butt shot she gave you?" she asked with a snicker. "Not as nice as the one you gave me a little while ago," I said with the same tone. "Good answer," Carrie replied. "Do you think I'm insane?" Carrie asked me a few minutes later. There is absolutely only one reply to that question. "Without a doubt," I said with conviction. "Personally, I blame it on your gender. I think you are predisposed to irrational behavior and outright looney-toonedness." "I'm trying to be serious," she said but I could tell she was fighting a smile. Sometimes I'm just too damned cute for my own good. "I'll need a little more context then," I said. "Are you insane for meeting me and moving in with me in one day? Oh yeah. Are you insane for seeming to enjoy spending time with Kasey? Without a shred of a doubt. Are you insane because you seemed to have a great time spending 8 hours hanging out with Kelly? Proof positive. See, insanity comes in so many different forms. You really need to be more specific." Carrie narrowed her eyes. "Am I insane because I think your ex-wife is making a play for you?" she asked. "Indubitably," I replied. "But mostly you're insane if you think there is any chance that it matters to me what Kelly wants. Carrie, this probably will come out worse than I mean it. Even without you I would never consider trying to rebuild something with Kelly. With you in my life it literally is laughable." "I think I remember something about last woman on earth and a queer," Carrie said while shaking her head. "I just wanted to make sure that was still the case now that you know it's a possibility." "I'm a prideful man, Carrie," I said with what I hoped was a sufficient leer. "I always believe the possibility exists. Anytime I think someone — such as you — is out of my league I just remember that the singer from an 80s one-hit wonder is still married to a famous model 25 years later." Carrie looked confused until I mentioned the name of the band. "No shit?" she asked. "Wow, not a handsome man. He must either be nice as hell or hung like a racehorse. Or, more likely, both to rate a runway model." ------- Chapter 13 "What's the plan for tomorrow?" Carrie asked. I actually grimaced. "What?" she wondered. "Do you have Christmas tradition like a root canal or something?" "Well, kind of," I replied. "Newspapers run 365 days a year. So people have to work on Christmas, New Year's, Fourth of July, Easter. I try to make sure the staff is only bare bones but I have to have people there. When I got here no salaried person worked the holidays. If you were a manager you were off. They would appoint some poor hourly worker to run the whole shebang and they would stay home with their families. "I changed that way of thinking pretty quickly," I continued. "We have a rotation so no hourly worker is scheduled for more than 1 holiday unless they switch. I have a couple of people who don't mind working. But I also make sure that every manager works a holiday. Christmas is mine because I knew the kids would be with Kelly and her folks." "I thought it was supposed to be good to be king," Carrie laughed. "Yet you delve into the manure like the peons. Things like that are probably why people speak highly of you." "Except the managers and those with 'seniority' who never used to work holidays," I replied. "Those people do not speak highly of me at all. I tried to explain to them that we are not unionized and there is no seniority. Should layoffs come — and it is likely they will in the next year or so because the whole industry is dying — I will start with the least productive regardless of years of service. There will be much hew and cry come next budget cycle because I'm positive my boss is going to tell me to get rid of about 10-15 percent of my staff — or at least 10-15 percent of the budget for that staff." "Ouch!" Carrie said. "Is it really that bad?" "Probably worse," I replied. "The highest fixed costs at a newspaper — outside of salary and benefits — is the cost of newsprint. It is outrageously expensive and it shows no sign of decreasing any time soon. Ink is also expensive and the cost of maintaining two presses is cumbersome. The cost of maintaining an Internet connection and a server is peanuts compared to those costs. But no one is going to pay $150 a year to read a Web site — or if they are we certainly can't find them. "Factor in 24-hour news and a constant barrage of information from other sources and newspapers may be facing their last days unless we can change and change quickly. Most of it is our own arrogance. We, as an industry, believed that we were essential to daily life in America. We ignored the data that suggested otherwise and continued to do what we did for 20 more years. "When advertisers started finding cheaper ways to reach the consumer — because as much as I hate to confess it, without advertising revenue a newspaper doesn't work — we really panicked. But for many people it was too late. Again, I blame our arrogance. The managers of the 1970s and 1980s became the journalism professors of the 1990s. They were the Watergate generation in which a newspaper brought down a sitting president. That skewed their sense of worth and many newspapers, even small ones like this one, thought their main purpose was to fight corruption and keep the scoundrels at bay. "The J-schools produced a generation of writers just like them, so that became the norm. Newspapers ignored the fact that most of the readers — unless you're in a high-density urban area — don't give a shit about that sort of thing. They cared more about their grandson's name being spelled right on the Sports page and that cousin Vera's wedding announcement had the right photograph with it. "We we let things like that slide. We began to substitute our judgment for the readers. We would spend hours upon hours deciding not what the reader wanted to know but what they should know. We would drop a local feature — or edit the hell out it — to get in a story on genocide in Rwanda. The genocide in Rwanda is important news — if you're an ethnic minority in Rwanda. But to the people of small-town America, it's filler. As caring and as generous a people as we are, we really don't want 15 inches of copy on that. "Really, and this sounds bad and I don't mean it that way. It is just a fact. But really, we don't really want 15 inches on the war in Iraq and Afghanistan unless it directly affects us locally. If a local soldier — Martha who works at the Quick Stop's son, maybe — is injured or killed we want as much as you can give us. If some poor kid from Outer Slobovia, West Virginia, is killed we can do with a paragraph or two. "That's probably the main thing I've tried to get across here. The news people want to read is not necessary the type of stories journalists — and I use that word as a pejorative — want to write. Most of these people feel that it is beneath them to cover a school board meeting or a farmer's market opening — conveniently forgetting that news from venues like that is going to have far more effect on the readers' lives than what happens in Washington, D.C., or even the state capital." Carrie was leaning forward with interest during my dissertation. At least I hoped it was interest. She wouldn't have been the first person to fall asleep on me while I discussion my profession. "What you're saying makes sense to me," she said. "I don't read the paper very often. When I did it was mostly to catch up on local things. If I wanted to know what was happening in the state, nation or world I had other places to find it." "More up-to-date information than a newspaper could provide," I put in. "Absolutely," she agreed. "But I suppose you're right about that, too. I don't really care enough to read a long story — or even to watch a full TV news segment on the war or the economy or, really, on much of anything. When the network news or CNN starts droning on about something like that, I turn the channel. I hadn't really thought of it that way before. Wow, it doesn't make me sound like a very good person." "It's not that at all," I said. "You know having a vast amount of information about what's happening in Slovenia isn't going to affect that situation in the slightest. Look at what happens in most of those places. There is political or social unrest that is put down harshly. The word gets out and the world gasps. Then the world yawns and moves on the next crisis. But having the knowledge that your local school board is planning to cut art and music from the curriculum has a higher chance of affecting you. The knowledge that your city council is planning to jack up the price of parking affects you. The knowledge that local farmers have a surplus of tomatoes or corn or beets affects you. "They say all politics is local and I agree," I concluded. "But all news is local, too. Most people get their names in the paper when they are born, when they get married and when the die. It's the least we can do to make sure we spell it the right way and include the right information during those three times." Carrie was staring off into space. I figured she was wondering how her story had played out in the press. "You know, 10 days ago I had no interest in how a newspaper ran and I probably wouldn't have cared if they all went out of business," she said. "I mean, I like the comics and I read the advice columns for a chuckle now and then. Now I'd like to know more about them. Do you think I could come into your office with you tomorrow?" "Uh, it's sort of like watching sausage being made," I replied. "The less you know the better. It's boring as hell and it will be more boring tomorrow. There are only a few nuts and bolts things I'll be doing — looking for stories that might be of interest, proof reading obituaries. It's not going to be an exciting day." "I'll bring a book in case I get bored," she said. "But I think it would be interesting. Kasey talks about your office like it's where all information comes to be doled out to the masses." "Which just shows without a shadow of a doubt that Kasey is full of shit," I replied. ------- I dawdled around the house and finished wrapping the Christmas loot while Carrie was helping at Kelly's house. I do not believe in providing the necessities of life in lieu of Christmas presents. Kasey might wind up with something essential in her Christmas stocking, just as Mark might find crayons or glue in his. But to my mind, Christmas presents are for purchasing or making something the other person would dearly like to have but is either unable or unwilling to purchase for themselves. There are no clothes for Christmas at my house. It is my responsibility to provide clothing, food and shelter to my children at all times. There have been times where Kasey has received something ridiculously expensive in terms of clothing but for the most part I keep the gifts to something other than things I should be providing anyway. This year, because Kasey was getting ready to head to college in the next 9 months, I tried to focus on things we could do together. For instance, Mark was set to receive a nifty loopty-loop race track that we could assemble together and play with together. I was certain that Kasey would partake in each of those activities with us. There was also a series of read-together books and an interactive story I wrote about Mark's life and future. It was simplistic in its approach and I hoped Mark would enjoy it. Of course, Kasey could join in with us. Kasey was a tougher nut to crack. First off she was female — a species completely outside of my realm of knowledge. Secondly, she was a teenager and her wants changed not only by the hour but sometimes by the minute. Lastly, she was getting to the place where doing things with her father was uncool. I probably spend more than I should have but it was only money. The video game system I purchased for my house — the first I'd owned since an Atari in the early 1980s — would keep her entertained and I was certain that some of the games could be family activities. But I figured that this was the last time I would spend Christmas with Kasey as a member of the household. Pretty soon she would be a visitor when she came over. As much as I cared about my parents — and my parents cared about me — that's the way our relationship turned shortly after I left for school. Of course a part of it might have been the fact that within two years I was a husband and a father. But regardless of the reason I wished it had never changed. It took me many years from the time I left my first home until I found my second. I lived in a lot of houses during those years. But the past week was the first time I felt like I had a home. ------- Three o'clock couldn't arrive soon enough for me. I usually dread Christmas — especially the mercenary commercialism of it. It always irked me when I would watch Kasey and Mark — and even Kelly while we were married — fail to give the appropriate appreciation for gifts. It could be from their aunt or from their grandparents or even from one of their parents but I found it irritating to see one of them take a sideways glance at a newly opened present before tossing it aside and diving into the pile again. I have an iron-clad rule about gifts — as they apply to me: If you take the time to provide it, I will find a way to use it. It might be as a door stop or as a potholder but it will be used. It will not be tossed into my closet and discarded. The day after my birthday was an annual event at my office. I think my mother-in-law figured out my scheme. If not, she has the absolute worse taste in ties that I have ever seen. Each year, my mother-in-law bought me a tie for my birthday. Each year, I would pull it out of the box and do my best not to cringe or burst into tears when I spotted the neon, rayon or crayon display. I would always get the use of it out of the way and wear it to work the next day. My co-workers would laugh but my unspoken obligation was fulfilled. I promised myself to use every gift; I do not promise to use it more than once. I never bitched about how ugly they were. I didn't complain about it. I would just find a way to use it. Kasey had made an ashtray out of clay in elementary school — or maybe it was a nut bowl. I'm not entirely sure but I do know that a person could smoke a pack of Marlboros and not fill it up. Newspapers led the way in smoke-free workplaces but Kasey gave it to me to put on my desk at work. So it became a paperweight. In fact, for almost 10 years it was a paperweight. Even when I didn't have many papers it was a paperweight. I figured out that it meant more to me than Kasey when she was in about sixth or seventh grade and she asked me why I always kept that "God-awful ugly" thing on my desk. "You don't smoke, do you?" she asked with disdain dripping from her voice. I explained that she had given it to me as a gift when she was five and I had kept it. She smiled sweetly — then deposited it in the bottom drawer of my desk. "If you tell your friends that your daughter made that for you, they'll think I'm a 'sped'," she said. For those without a child at home, a "sped" is someone in special education classes. It is a nice way of saying "retard." Kasey danced the balance beam between social politeness and political incorrectness very deftly. But this year I was actually looking to Christmas and I finally heard the tires of the car my daughter drove enter the driveway. I thought the house was perfect. It smelled a touch like cinnamon and the living room resonated with the reflection of the tree's lights. There were parcels along the bottom of the tree and the stockings were hung by the door. I'd even found one similar to those for Kasey and Mark and had used glitter and glue to put Carrie's name on it. The group trundled in from the outside and Kasey stopped short — causing Mark to run nose first into her back. "Hey!" he said with anger. "Keep going." "Hey!" I heard Carrie say with frustration. "My hands are full and it's freezing out here." "Hey!" Kasey said with wonder. "It smells like Christmas in here." She came forward and kissed my cheek. "Nice touch, Dad," she whispered. She didn't realize it was as much for her as it was for anyone. I wanted her last Christmas as a child to be as special for her as her first one was for me. I hooked her around the neck before she could pull back and pulled her forehead to my lips. "I love you, Sweetheart," I said. Mark took his accustomed spot on me or near me as soon as Kasey's behind was out of his way. He was the first one to notice Carrie's stocking and went over to see who it belonged to. "Carrie, Carrie!" he said. "Santa knows you're here. He made a stocking for you." Carrie had eased her burden — beneath the tree — and turned to look. "I'm really happy that Santa knew where to look for me," she said. Then I got a sweet kiss on the cheek in lieu of Santa. Carrie sat beside me while the kids did whatever it is kids do. Kasey went to her room to call her friends, I was certain, and Mark started on another of his artistic masterpieces. He was obviously concentrating furiously — or he was having a seizure — because his little tongue was poking out of his mouth and, well, he was slobbering down his chin. Mark's drools drive Kelly crazy. She is constantly wiping his chin and chiding him to "swallow." I am not as bothered by it. First, I expect he will grow out of it. He just gets so involved in something that he forgets. I have also found myself in the same predicament when I was delving into budgets or something else that required my complete attention. Often, I wouldn't realize that I was slobbering until a drop of drool landed on the paper. Or my desk. Or sometimes my arm. Genetics are a horrible thing upon occasion. Carrie was paying rapt attention to what Mark was drawing. I usually put that task off until the very end. I could never tell a fish from a dinosaur or a car from a space ship. In fact, all 4 of those creations looked very similar to my untrained eye. But I am not an artist. I sometimes can paint a picture with words but with a paint brush, a crayon or a pencil I am reduced to stick figures. Carrie it seemed had a more artistic bent than I did. Kasey did as well. She could readily identify what Mark had produced. He always got positive remarks about his creativity from his preschool teacher so I supposed that I was the problem — not his work. "Santa has 8 reindeer, Sweetie," I heard Carrie say. Then she named them. Without Clement Moore's classic in my hand I can get to Dancer and Prancer. In unison, Mark and I replied: "Rudolph." "Of course, how could I forget Rudolph," Carrie said with a laugh. On cue, Mark broke into his slightly off-key version of the song. It was just about two shades past adorable. But he does a lot of things that fall into that category. Kasey heard it and came out a joined in. Pretty soon all four of us were singing Christmas carols. Stylistically it was a mess. Kasey had a lovely voice. Carrie and Mark's voices are passable. I couldn't carry a tune with a shovel. Somehow it sounded as sweet as the Vienna Boy's Choir when we tried "Silent Night," and "O Come All Ye Faithful." What words Mark didn't know he hummed. What words I didn't know, I guessed. But my vocabulary is somewhat more advanced than his and only so many words rhyme with "manger." Dinner was the same tone. The house was filled with laughter and joy. Kasey was on her best behavior and Mark was suitably restrained. At least until we started handing out presents. Then all bets were off. ------- Chapter 14 Christmas morning arrived and I knew I had to get out of bed. I really didn't want to move. I would be content to snuggle beside Carrie all day. But I had to get the kids to their mother's and see if the office was still standing. I had been gone for 9 days. During that time the only contact I had with the place that provided my paycheck was when the writer from the Holiday Ball stopped by. Even when I would take the kids on vacation I would usually call in a couple of times during the week to make sure things were OK. But not this week. I really hadn't even thought about it. The publisher was in Aspen so I figured the inmates could run the asylum for a while. After all, what's the worst thing that could happen? My staff was professional. They knew how to write a story and they knew what constituted unsuitable content. They knew where to be and what to do when they got there. I also had a group of mid-level managers that ranged from exceptional to passable. I counted on the exceptional ones to keep a tight rein on the passable ones. I also knew that the woman who had sat outside my office since long before the office was mine would arbitrate any dispute that arose in my name. I could fall into a year-long coma and the paper would continue unabated. But the place almost grinds to a complete halt if Elizabeth Drayton takes a sick day. She is the only person who knows where the pens are stored and the bodies are buried. I make it a point to be very deferential to her — mostly so I don't wind up with the other corpses she has buried. Rumor has it Elizabeth has been married 5 times and outlived every one of them. On the surface she is the sweetest, most mild-mannered woman on the planet. But I have heard her use language that would make a trucker blush when she felt affronted. But her biggest skill was making a person feel like a complete idiot all the while she was smiling sweetly at them or talking to them in a gentle tone. I had first-hand knowledge of that skill on only one occasion, which is a wonder in and of itself. However, I had watched from the sideline numerous times as she filleted a young writer or an ad rep or even the publisher without them even realizing what was happening. I am extremely happy to say that Elizabeth Drayton likes me and she feels protective toward me. Otherwise I would be reduced to spending afternoons alternating between drinking shots of vodka and bursting out in to tears in my office — as the woman I replaced had ended up. ------- There was a stack of messages from Elizabeth on my desk — ranked in priority from her perspective — which immediately became my perspective. Carrie sat in the chair opposite my desk and looked around. There was not much in the way of decoration in my office. I had pictures of the kids on the desk and print outs of particularly impressive stories or designs taped to the wall. "You need some wall stuff," Carrie said. "Like I need a hole in the head," I replied. "I don't want this place to have a homey feel because I don't want to spend any more time here than I have to." Carrie nodded. "Your house feels the same way as this office," she said. "You have pictures of the kids on the walls but nothing much more. It is a rather sparse existence." I really had no answers. "I would suspect it is more common among single and divorced men that you think," I said. "Knick-knacks and other do-dads are not my thing." "Knick-knacks and do-dads?" Carrie said with a laugh. "How about some kvetch? Maybe some bric-a-brac?" Her faced turned mischievous. "Or maybe a hoo-ha?" she said. "Perhaps you need a hoo-ha at your house. How about some hoo-ha at your office? Maybe some hoo-ha in your car?" I about spit my coffee across the room. "I happen to have a hoo-ha that I'm not using," Carrie joked. "I would be happy to share any hoo-ha that I might own with you." That is one offer I hoped to take her up on. "So, what's on your agenda today?" she asked. "Today I actually have to work," I said. "No games of Solitaire for me. Today I'm acting as the city editor and the news editor. That means I'll give the last read to the local stories and help select the wire stories that appear. Because today is a holiday, it will be mostly wire. We had a photog going to a homeless shelter for the holiday giving picture and I'll have someone do cop calls. The front page centerpiece is about retail expectations for tomorrow. But mostly we'll just fill it with wire. The press guys are starting at 8 p.m. instead of midnight so we should be wrapped up by about 7." Carrie was nodding and she appeared to actually be interested. "Can you pull up the pictures from the Holiday Ball?" she asked. "I want to see the pictures they took of us." I pulled up the photography server and accessed the raw files folder. Carrie clicked though until she found the ones she was looking for. "These are really good," she gushed. "Look how distinguished you look." "I look like a constipated penguin," I said as I peered over her shoulder. "A distinguished constipated penguin," Carrie said with a laugh. "Is anyone gonna get pissed if I steal a copy of these?" "The paper owns the copyright," I answered. "If you plan to use them as an advertising prop then we'll have to charge you." "Personal use," she said. "Look, there are more. There we are dancing. Here we are chatting with the owner and his wife. There is the mayor's sister-in-law hugging you and the mayor shaking your hand. I think the photographer spent the last hour just taking pictures of you. Oh wait, me too. Here are a bunch of me. Uh-oh, I think I might have another stalker. There must be 30 files of us. Are you sure I can burn these?" "Just open my e-mail and sent them to yourself," I replied. "Or send them to my home account if yours is with your business." A hint of anger crept to Carrie's face. "You sure it won't block your inbox?" she wondered. The anger was gone as quickly as it came. "Nah," I replied. "I get a 3 e-mails a year unless you count scams and spam." Carrie kept herself occupied and occupied most of the conversation that went around from my colleagues. It seems the photos that Carrie had transferred had made the rounds of the newsroom earlier in the week. The actual production work was done by 5 p.m. and one of my staff offered to stay to do the press check so I could go home. It was another offer I gratefully accepted. "I e-mailed the pictures to Kasey, too," Carrie told me in the car. "I hope you don't mind." I told her it didn't make any difference to me. "She said the only picture she has of you from a professional is from when Mark was a baby," Carrie continued. I supposed that was a fact. "I get the kid's pictures taken as often as I can get them to sit still," I said. "But I guess I always stay outside of the frame. The same photographer will be there New Year's Eve. I'll make sure he gets a picture or two of Kasey and I together." "You'll be in costume," Carrie said. "You should get a nice family photo taken after the first of the year. I think she would appreciate it. I know you will in the future." I nodded my acceptance. It was nice to know that I had already lost the ability to make decisions for myself. At least I recognized it early before problems arose. "So, we have the house to ourselves tonight," she said. "Anything come to mind to occupy our time?" "Parcheesi?" I replied. "Maybe a Trivial Pursuit or two," she said with a smirk. "I was thinking that we might see how the hoo-ha is going to look in several rooms of the house. I mean, it might look tacky in the living room or the kitchen. A hoo-ha is not something that should be displayed in some situations." "Especially situations where children might be present," I replied. "I think hoo-ha can be discretely displayed around children," Carrie said with a giggle. "Although not directly to the children. However, if the children are in the other room or otherwise occupied, I do not think I would mind if you were to inspect the hoo-ha." "So long as it is the hoo-ha that I provide," she added. "I think it would be wrong for you to inspect someone else's hoo-ha." "Is it appropriate for you to inspect someone else's hoo-ha?" I wondered. "Almost never," she said. "Even discretely it creates problems. A woman reserves the right to inspect another woman's boobs from a distance, of course, and to make comments on her butt. But the hoo-ha is out of bounds." "Good to know," I replied. "How about the male hoo-ha?" "Males do not have hoo-ha," Carrie said. "Honestly, did you sleep through sex ed? Male have doo-hickeys. And yes, if discreet, I might check out your doo-hickey from time to time — visual or manually." I felt her hand reach into my lap. "But only yours," she added. Christmas Day ended the way it started — with a very naked Carrie wrapped around me and sound asleep. ------- Chapter 15 They say that into every life a bit of rain must fall. In Britain and its former colonies, Dec. 26 is called Boxing Day. I'm not certain why but I suppose if it really mattered to me I could look it up. Obviously my lack of knowledge isn't keeping me awake at night. Perhaps it is because you box up all the crap you got and take it home, or back to the store it came from or even to the needy. Boxing Day almost came to the U.S. because we almost came to blows at my house on the day after Christmas. I certainly was angry enough. The day started well enough. Mark and Kasey came over to tell me about their grandparent's visit. Their aunt and uncle had sent them presents but they didn't show up for dinner. I'm sure tears were shed around the table for hours. Kasey and Carrie took a run before I ran Mark back to his mother's house. They had some sort of plans for that afternoon. I probably should have asked but I didn't. Kasey, Carrie and I sat around and discussed our New Year's Eve plans for most of the afternoon. They had dozens of ideas for costumes but none that really seemed realistic. But I let them knock down their own ideas. I didn't point out the flaws because, well, because I know better. One word from me against any of their ideas would have only made that idea seem more attractive to them. See, I have learned something in my 40 years on the planet. Unfortunately I haven't learned nearly enough. Before the syllables were out of my mouth I wished I had them back. The first words sent my brain into spasms as it tried to make my mouth stop. But I didn't stop. "So, Kasey," I said. "I haven't heard you mention who you're taking. Do you have a date or will I have to rent you one?" There was no pause. There never is. "Oh, Dad," she said. "The guys know I put out. I always can get a date." If I were a cartoon, my head would have turned into a volcano and the top would have exploded. Kasey was standing there with a look of absolute triumph on her face. I was on my feet before I could even think and my hand was poised. It was as close as I've ever come to striking my children — or a girlfriend or my wife. If I hadn't physically grabbed my right hand with my left, I'm positive I would have slapped her. Instead I felt Carrie's hand touch my arm lightly and I turned and stormed out of the house before I did something I couldn't take back. I noticed the look of triumph had disappeared from Kasey's face pretty quickly. It was hours later when I returned. I spent time sitting in my car, drinking coffee and trying to calm my anger. I was less than successful. I knew I was partially responsible for Kasey's retort. I should have asked who she planned to take without joking about it. I also should have known my remark would precipitate the response it got. I'm not certain why I got so angry about it. Perhaps it was because I didn't like the fact that my daughter might, in fact, have that reputation. It might have been the fact that she found a reputation like that so amusing. But I think it was the reason behind her words. Kasey's words weren't meant to be funny. They weren't meant to be ironic. Her sole reason for saying them was to cause me distress. Well, she succeed on that front. It was something she had done her whole life to those around her. The house was quiet when I returned. I expected that. Kasey always ran to her mother's when she and I would argue or I would get angry with her about something. I went into my office and sat down. I was still angry but I was also resigned to the fact this time would play like they always had before. Kasey would run home to her mother's and she would stay away for 3 or 4 days. The next time she would come over she would act like nothing was wrong. But something was wrong and it was something that neither her mother nor I could manage to fix. Carrie found me sitting there staring out the window. She put her hand softly on my shoulder. "Are you OK?" she asked. "Not really," I replied. "This is what we talked about in the car. When she was 9 or 10 we thought it was a phase she would grow out of. When she did it at 15 or 16 we thought it was a response to the divorce and it would ease. I guess it's time we admit the truth. "She simply doesn't give a fuck about anyone else's feelings." Carrie nodded her head sadly. "I knew it, Carrie," I said. "I knew before the words were out of my mouth that she would do something like that. But it's not because I was picking on her. At other times she's done it during normal conversation or simply out of the blue. She's said things like that to her mother, her grandparents and her teachers." Carrie sat silently beside me and held my hand. "I guess I'm just going to have to stop picking on her," I said. "I know I should be more careful of the jokes I made. But I really don't think it was that bad." "It wasn't," Carrie said. "And she wasn't angry about the joke." "That is what is so frustrating," I said. "She wasn't angry or upset in the least. I would think that maybe she simply doesn't understand humor but I know that's not the case either." I paused for a moment. "Carrie, I have never hit her or Mark," I said. "I have never hit Kelly or any woman I dated. But today, today I almost did. I was close. I saw that look on her face and it was all I could do to stop." "I know, hon," she said. "But don't forget: you did stop. Then you left until you cooled down. I tell you what, you scared the crap out of her. I hope I didn't interfere but I talked to her for a bit." I shrugged. It couldn't have hurt anything. I doubted it would help because I'm sure whatever Carrie said had been said to her before. "I was pretty angry, too," Carrie said. "I was angry at what she said and I was angry because she said it just to provoke a response from you. Your face when you left will probably keep me awake at nights for a while. "I asked her flat out: 'What were you thinking?' She told me she was just playing with you. I guess I told her that was a bullshit answer. She might have gotten away with that stupidity as a kid but not anymore. I told her that she saw what you almost did. She knew it. I told her she was damned lucky that you were her dad because she would have been picking her ass up off the floor if it had been anyone else. "She told me that you would never hit her. I told her that the only thing that stopped you was you. Hon, I saw you grab your own hand to stop it. I wasn't sure if I should try or if I should just let it happen. But then I thought about what life would be here with you if you had done it. I know you well enough, I think, to know what would have happened. I'm certain Kasey would have forgiven you. Kelly would probably have applauded you. But you would never have been able to forgive yourself. The fact that you allowed her to provoke you to the point you hit her is something you could never forget. You're not the type of man who could brush that aside. At least I don't think you are." "I'm not sure I can forgive the fact that I wanted to," I said. "And I'm not certain that Kasey would have been as forgiving as you seem to think — Kelly either." "Well, I told Kasey that she better have enjoyed the joke about her date because I figured it would be a while before you made light of anything related to her," Carrie continued. "And then I hit her with something that made her think. I said, 'You know, what if he would do the same thing to you? You know, just do something to hurt you. Because that's the only reason you said that — to hurt your father. What if instead of getting angry and storming out he would said "That's fine, Kasey. I can't stop you from doing that. But I damned sure not got going to sit across from the table from the douche bag you're doing it with. So you can forget about going with us to the party and anywhere else for that matter."'" I thought maybe that should be my reaction. My thoughts were delayed by my phone ringing. I saw Kelly's number and assumed it was Kasey. For some reason, I answered anyway. "Hi, is Kasey there?" my ex-wife asked. "No, or at least I don't think so," I answered. "I thought she was with you." I glanced up at Carrie. "Is Kasey here?" She nodded. "She is in her room," Carrie said. "Thinking about things." "Oh, yeah," I said to Kelly. "She's here." "Is everything OK over there?" she asked. "Not as far as I can see," I replied. "Look, Kasey said something completely out of line and I sort of snapped." "Good," my ex-wife said. "I hope you really lit into her." I was silent. "I almost hit her, Kelly," I confessed. Then I waited for the explosion. "But you didn't," she said. "Believe me, almost doesn't count or I'd be in prison for child abuse. I've almost hit her a dozen times. What did she say?" "It doesn't matter what was said only the reason behind her saying it," I told her. "So you're not pissed at me?" "No, Mike," she said. "I'm not. I have wondered if a slap in the mouth might be the only way to get through to her. God knows nothing else we've tried has worked. What did Carrie say?" "To me or to her?" I wondered. "Both, either," Kelly said. "She was in the middle of recounting the conversation that she had with Kasey," I said. "It was not a conversation," Carrie said with force. "I was the only one talking and I made damned sure she was listening." "I think Carrie pointed out some flaws in Kasey's actions," I said as diplomatically as I could. I wasn't sure how Kelly would react to someone else disciplining our child — and I really wasn't interested in finding out at that point. "She likes Carrie and looks up to her," Kelly said. "She is not uncool like we are so Kasey might just listen this time." "Do you want to talk to her?" I asked. "Kasey or Carrie? It doesn't matter the answer is still the same," Kelly replied. "You have things under control so I can talk to either of them or both of them later. But if you decide you absolutely have backhand Kasey please call me. Depending upon my mood, I think I might like to watch." Kelly was chuckling to herself when she hung up. I simply sat and stared at the telephone in my hand. "Good, bad or otherwise?" Carrie asked. "Good to otherwise," I said. "She is happy that you talked to Kasey, which surprised me. She is happy that I almost belted Kasey, which further surprised me. And she doesn't feel the need to stick her nose into it, which absolutely shocks me beyond words." "Do you plan to speak to your daughter today?" Carrie asked. I shook my head. "I'm not sure I trust myself to be in the same room," I replied. "If she were to smirk at me or say something snarky I don't know that I could stop myself." "I don't think you should let this fester," she advised. "But I do understand your point." ------- Ultimately the decision to speak to Kasey or not was taken out of my hands. Well, I guess I didn't have to speak to her but Kasey wandered into my office a few minutes later. I could tell she had been crying. It's not something I enjoyed seeing but I think a part of me felt that her tears were deserved — so long as they were for the right reason. Instead of sitting on my lap — as she had returned to doing in the last week — or even near me, Kasey sat in the chair opposite me. Perhaps she felt distance from me or proximity to an exit was in her best interest. "I'm sorry, Dad," she said as she sat down. Again if she was insincere she was learning to hide it better than she had a week or two earlier. "I'm sorry, too," I replied after a moment. "I don't think you need to apologize this time," Kasey answered. "You might believe that but I am still sorry about my actions toward you and the words that started this," I told her. "I am sorry for picking on you about something you're obviously sensitive about. I'm also sorry that I almost over-reacted to what you said. Regardless of how I might have felt at the time my actions were wrong. "Kasey, I want this to be said. Under no circumstances is it acceptable for you, me or anyone else to strike someone in anger. Even when you were a child your mother and I would insist the other person take a moment to reflect or defer punishment to the other if our anger would present a danger to you. I don't want you to get the impression that it is OK for me — or anyone else in your life — to treat you that way. It is not and I apologize for the fact that I was at that point today." Kasey lowered her head and I could see fresh tears starting. "Dad, I don't know why I do things like that," she said. "I don't understand what is inside my brain that makes me think it is OK. I'm ashamed of myself. I guess today is the first time I really understood what you've been trying to tell me about watching what I say to others. And it's not because of what you did. It's because of the feeling I got when I realized that it was me that almost caused you to do that. It was me who caused you do something that you never would do otherwise." Kasey's face was troubled. "I'm also upset that I've led you to think that way about me," she continued. "I think that bothers me as much as the other. Dad, I'm not like that. I think I want to seem more grown up that I really am. For some reason I thought acting like I was the type to have sex with a bunch of people would make you think I was more of an adult than today showed I am. I want you to know, for certain, that your daughter is not a skank." I held up my hand to stop Kasey's narrative. "I don't think what you do in your private life is relevant to this conversation or any other we might have in the future," I replied. "But it is, Dad," Kasey insisted. "It's relevant to this because I understand now that another reason I acted that way around you is because it bothered you. I don't know why I wanted to make you feel bad but I understand that the things I've said and done has made you feel that way. Dad, I've done that exactly twice. And I'm certain the first time was much later than what you expected. The first time, I admit, is because I wanted to see what the fuss was about. It was less than a year ago. The second time is because I hoped it would be better than the first. It wasn't." Kasey's lips turned in a half frown. "Today is the first time I realized why those times were so unspecial," Kasey said sadly. "If I had listened to you two years ago I would have already come to the right conclusion. You told me when we first talked about sex that it would be much better if I waited for the right person to come along. You said the most fulfilling part was the emotional attachment. Anything else was just an exercise in masturbation. I should have listened and known you were right. I guess a part of me recognized that you have always tried to tell me the truth because I decided after the second time that I was going to wait until there were real feelings involved before I tried anything remotely sexual again. If I would have listened to you from the start then I might already understand what the big deal about sex is." I couldn't help but chuckle. "Honey, if I had listened to my parents from the start I would be having this conversation with an empty chair," I answered. "There was a time in my life when I grew to love your mother. But it wasn't until you were on the way. That's the other thing I wanted you to consider. Your mom's life would have been much better if she had waited a few years to have you." "That's why I wanted birth control," Kasey said. "This might surprise you but your mother was on birth control each time she became pregnant," I said. "I told you from the start that the only sure-fire method of avoiding pregnancy is to avoid sex. Everything else has a margin of error. The margin is a slim one, I'll grant you. But the consequences are life altering so I believe they are worth considering." Kasey's eyes were wide for a moment then she nodded. "I thought that was the standard speech given by all parents," she said. "I've always thought that the 'abstinence' part was just something parents felt the need to say. I did the research but now that you have spelled it out to me a 1 in 100 chance or even a 1 in 1000 chance is something I'll need to consider." "There is also the health and safety issue," I said. "I don't see the need to give you the stats on that because I know they have drummed into your head since you were 11 years old. But that part is also real and the decisions you make in that regard might not be just life-altering but life-ending." "Those I understood perfectly, Dad," Kasey said. "I made sure that each time I was protected." "Which also adds to the safety factor from pregnancy, too," I included. "Condoms are the least effective means of birth control — well outside of the Catholic church's answer to contraception — but they are the second most-effective way of disease prevention." "With not doing it in the first place being the first," Kasey said. "Thanks, Dad. I know this might have been uncomfortable for you and it was not my intention. I wanted you to know that I am not a bed-hopper nor am I putting myself at risk — for pregnancy or disease. I know that a part of today's reaction was because of what I'd led you to believe about me." "Part of it, but not all of it," I said. "Kasey, I know there are times I take things farther than I should when I'm joking around. I should have known that what I said today would provoke you. I guess I knew it would but I didn't think it would lead to what you said and the way you said it. The manner of your voice and the look on your face had as much to do with how I reacted as your words did. "You know, Kasey, other people are capable of saying and doing things to you for just the same reason you say and do them to others — just to cause you pain. There are certainly times that I could have done that. Even things that I've said or done that might be hurtful to you, I've tried to temper my words with an explanation of why it was said or done. I don't know about your mother but I'm willing to venture that she rarely says anything like that to you and if she does there is a reason behind it. But this isn't about you and her. It's about you and me. It's about what sort of relationship we're going to have in the future and it's about what we're going to do to make sure there is no repeat of today — from either of us." Kasey was looking at a spot behind my head. "I don't want our relationship to change, Daddy," she said timidly. I wasn't sure of how to answer her so I went with what I thought to be the truth. "Kasey, I think it changed this afternoon whether we wanted it to or not," I stated. "I think it's going to be a long time before I'll be able to joke with your or pick on you about things. And it's not because of what you said. It's because of how I reacted. I don't want to be in the position I put myself in — where I had the choice of walking away or striking you or someone else." "I don't want you to stop loving me!" Kasey said loudly in a teary voice. "That is not an option," I said. "I will not stop loving you for anything you might do. You're my daughter and I'll love you for that reason alone. As much pain as your mother caused me, there is still a spot in my heart that loves her for the sole reason that she is your mother. I'm not certain if you're aware of this, but Carrie hasn't spoken to her mother in 15 or 16 years. If I hadn't found a little ounce of control today I have no doubt that you and I would be right there in the future. So we'll have to figure out how we proceed forward." Kasey was shaking her head sadly. I wasn't sure whether she was contemplating Carrie and her mother or if she was denying there would be changes in our future. "Kasey, this change was coming eventually," I said as kindly as I could. "In a few months you'll be on your own. When you come here or even to see your mom it will be as a visitor. It won't mean you'll stop being our daughter or that we'll stop loving you but you'll have a life outside of ours." Kasey looked up at me with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Dad, I don't want a life that doesn't have you," she said. "My whole life you were the one thing I knew I could always count on. You would never turn me away no matter what I did. You would always be on my side. You would always be able to make right anything that was wrong." "Well, except for the last one, that hasn't changed," I said. "You can always count on me and I will never turn you away. You'll always have a place with me and I will always be on your side — sometimes even when you're wrong. I've never had the ability to fix things that were wrong. But I won't stop trying to help you when I can. You'll still be my daughter." Kasey sat still for a moment as she took things in. "But will I still be your little girl?" she asked sadly. "I think so," I said. "At least to me you will be. But I thought you just said part of the reason you've tried to embarrass me for the last few years is because you didn't want to be my little girl anymore." "I still wanted to be your little girl," Kasey admitted. "But I don't want you to think of me as a little girl." "I've tried not to treat you as a child," I said. "At least I hope I have. But things like today make it hard to treat you as an adult, too. I think I realize a year or so ago that there was a young adult element to your personality and a older child element, too. My problem is that sometimes it takes me a little bit of time to figure out which one I'm talking to and which way I need to respond." "Which one do you think you're talking to now?" she asked. "Both," I said. "It hit me today that regardless of which one I thought I was dealing with I was actually dealing with both of them. They're part of you, Kasey. As you've grown in the last year or so the older child has been less and less of how you act. You're responsible and you're friendly and helpful to most people. Those are things that you've learned as a young adult. You weren't that way when you were 14 or 15. "I trust that you know right from wrong and I trust that most times you choose to do the right thing. Those are also elements of your growth. By this time next year, after you've lived on your own for a while, a smaller portion of the child will remain. You'll experience first-hand dealing with money issues, trying to balance a school and social schedule without someone to enforce it. You might even have your first real romance and it might even end. Those are all things that help you gain perspective and maturity. You take lessons from those just I hope you take a lesson from today. But I hope you never let the child in you disappear completely. I hope you never lose the ability to have fun and be silly. It is important to take those skills into full-fledged adulthood and keeping those abilities are a large part of being a happy adult." Kasey seemed to be listening as I spoke but I wasn't sure anything was sinking in. A lot of the lessons I had tried to impart in the past with words had been ignored until a deed came to push them to the forefront again. I knew I couldn't live Kasey's life for her. I knew there was nothing I could do to take away the pain the she would face in her life. I knew there was nothing I could do to keep her from making the same mistakes I'd made as a young adult. I also knew it would be unfair of me to try. A large part of growing up is making mistakes and learning from them. As a father I tried to let her know that those mistakes were coming but it would irresponsible of me to keep her from making them. "Can I still sit on your lap from time to time?" Kasey wondered. "And I still want to do a lot of the things we used to do, Daddy. I still want to be able to joke with you and I still want you to make fun of silly things I do. It's part of who you are and it's a part I love." A tiny smile graced her lips. "Every time I do something silly I usually can't wait to tell you about it," she said. "Sometimes I wonder if I do dumb things just so you can ride me about them. I know you are not serious and I never thought you were serious during those times. I never felt belittled or angry because you poked fun at me. Just like I hope you didn't take it personally when I did it back to you. But today wasn't about fun. Today I was just mean. What I said was to see what you would do. I'm sorry about that, Dad. Thank you for walking away when you did. I know it bothers you that things got to that point but it shouldn't. I think Carrie and Mom are both right. With anyone else — if anyone else but you were my father — it would have come to that long ago and it wouldn't have ended with you storming out the door." The tears were glistening in my daughter's eyes again. "I've never said this to you because I always thought you knew but I want you to know it," Kasey said. "I am happy that you're my Dad. I never feel safer than when you have your arms around me. I never feel more loved than when you look at me with that crooked grin and give me a wink. I never want to see the look on your face that I put there today. I hope, Dad, that the next time that something like that comes to my mind I'll see your face instead. I can't promise I won't do something like that again but I hope I won't. And I hope that I respond the way you did if someone did that to me. I hope that I have enough restraint to step back from the moment. I wish I had enough sense to do that this afternoon. I hope that you'll forgive me." "There is nothing to forgive," I said. "It's not like it's the first time it's happened. It's just the first time it's happened with me. You've treated others that way in the past. I just to have to find a way to accept that other's feelings don't have much weight with you." I wasn't trying to be nasty. I didn't say it in a hurtful way. "But, Dad, I do care what you think," Kasey insisted. "Honestly, you're the only person in the world I do care what they think. I want you to be proud of me. I don't want you to think I don't care about other's feelings. Most usually I'm considerate of others. It's just sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain." Of all the words that Kasey and I exchanged in the past 15 minutes her last sentence made the most sense to me. I smiled. "A situation I can relate to all too well," I said. Kasey eyed me suspiciously. "Dad, I have never seen you speak before thinking about it," she said. "Unless you were joking about something, everything you say is measured and thought out." "Then I create an impression that is entirely different from reality," I said. "I tend to do it less now than in the past but I've put my foot in my mouth any number of times." Kasey smiled. "So there is hope for me?" she said. "I won't always spout out the first thing that pops into my head?" "Was that the first thing you thought of today?" I asked. Kasey nodded sadly. "Honestly, I thought you had a store of replies in your brain," I said. "When you say things like that there is never a pause. It's always seemed like you had already planned out the scene in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to say if the situation ever presented itself. I honestly thought you had taken the time to measure out the exact amount of hurtfulness you wanted to impart." Kasey's mouth dropped. "No, Dad," she said. Her tears were back in full force. "God, no. I never wanted to hurt you. Never, Dad. I love you more than anything in the world. Sometimes, with Mom or even with other people I probably did. I know I didn't feel as badly about it then as I do today." "But then the other's didn't react as angrily as I did or they weren't really in a position to show their anger," I told her. "Not anger, Dad," she said. "The pain on your face when you turned away from me. That bothered me more than the anger. I think I knew I could get you angry. But I never understood until that very moment how hurt you must be when I say things like that. I knew it made you uncomfortable to talk about sex. Part of that is unavoidable because you are the person I trust to give me the right answers without slanting the information for your own agenda. But I had no idea it hurt you to talk to me about it." "It doesn't hurt me to talk to you about anything you find important," I said. "And, whether I like it or not, sex and relationships are important. What hurt me was the fact you didn't seem to care if others thought of you that way. My initial anger was caused by the fact that others might think of you that way. Then I saw the look on your face. It was like you were proud of the fact that boys at school viewed you in that manner." "But they don't," Kasey said quickly. "And it would bother me greatly if anyone thought of me that way." "Especially you," she said almost to herself. "Please keep in mind that the details of your sex life didn't become available to me until a few minutes ago," I said. "I've been content to let you live that portion of your life without my intervention. I don't think I've ever even made a veiled attempt to find out with whom or how often you were doing that." "That's true," Kasey said. "I guess I didn't really appreciate that until a month or so ago. Mom was waiting up for me after a date and she wasn't veiled in any way. She wanted details and she was going to get them one way or another." "I'm sure she had a reason," I said. Kelly had mentioned the incident to me so I knew what the reason was. But I doubted Kasey would know that. "I guess she did," Kasey admitted. "And what was the reason?" I asked. Kasey looked up with embarrassment. "I wasn't where I was supposed to be when I was supposed to be there," she said sheepishly. "Then I think you mother's questions were valid," I said. "And, at least for the coming months, you should know that if I were in the situation your mother was in I wouldn't have been subtle either." "No," Kasey said. "You probably would have tracked me down." "Perhaps," I confessed. "And I thought we decided when you were 15 that you didn't want a repeat of the highway incident." Kasey blushed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Kasey was a bit younger than some of her classmates and she was not permitted to ride with them after they got their license. I set my interview with the local newspaper here on a Monday morning and I took a long weekend from previous job in hopes of securing time with the kids. I was coming down a highway into town and I saw Kasey riding with some of her friends. I probably wouldn't have noticed if the car wasn't speeding and weaving in and out of traffic. I pulled a U-turn and called Kelly where I made sure that she hadn't rescinded the rule, which I doubt she would have. Then I chased down Kasey's friend and flashed my lights at her until she pulled to the side. I think Kasey knew who was chasing them and I think Kasey knew I would not be pleased if I had to chase them further. I literally pulled Kasey from the car and frog-marched her back to mine — much to her embarrassment. Then I called the driver's parents and informed them of what I saw and what I had done. Then I got the pleasure of walking back to Kasey's friend's car and informing her that her mother was on the way to collect her and she was to give me the keys. Her mother had informed me that the girl wouldn't be needing them for the foreseeable future. Kasey was irate as we sat there that day. "Too bad," I said firmly. "You put yourself in this position by disobeying the rules. Don't be pissed off at me because you're an idiot. And it was idiotic to be riding in a car with someone who was acting that immature. If I ever see you driving that way you won't have to worry about me taking your car away for a few days. You won't be able to sit down for a few days anyway. No, I'll make God-damned sure that you don't drive another car until you can afford to pay for it — and the gas and the insurance and the upkeep — on your own. Don't think I won't." After the way I chased her down, I don't think Kasey doubted for a minute there was something I wouldn't do. Over the space of the next few minutes a lot of things happened. Kasey and I sat and stewed. Kelly arrived and told Kasey to get her ass to the car — and she thanked me for taking care of the situation and for keeping her involved, now that I think about it. Then the driver's parents arrived and shit hit the fan. It was a shame that Kasey was gone by then because the embarrassment she felt was nothing to compared to what the driver must have felt. The driver's mother dragged her out of the car and whipped her behind the whole way back the other car, literally swatting a teenage girl on the ass for the 30 or so feet from one car to the other. It wasn't gentle swats, either. The woman was dragging with one arm and wailing with the other. I presumed that the driver got obnoxious with her mother. The girl's stepfather came to get the keys from me and explained this was the second time someone had called to tell them that their daughter was unsafe. "Her mom told her what would happen if she ever got caught again," he said with a laugh. "Let's just say my insurance just got a hell of a lot cheaper. And I have a car for sale." "Man I was mad," the present-day Kasey related. "I was, too," I said. "You placed in jeopardy the thing I valued most in the world — you. I hope you understand that I was angrier at the fact you would ride with someone like that than I was about you disobeying the rules. I will confess that I believed the rule to be unenforceable when it was mentioned to me. But I had promised myself that I would enforce you mother's rules — even the ones I didn't agree with — as if they were my own. I hoped that Kelly had the same stance on the things I decided." "I do understand that — now," Kasey admitted. "You know she still doesn't have her license back? Her mom still drops her off at school each morning and she takes the bus home each night." There was a bit of humor in her voice. "Your decision is partly responsible for that, too," I informed her. "If you hadn't been in the car, I wouldn't have cared in the least if a vehicle with 3 morons wrapped itself around a tree or a telephone pole. But you were in the car and you put her into the same predicament as you put yourself." Recognition dawned in Kasey's eyes. It was like a light switch going off in her brain. "My actions have farther-reaching effects that I know about," she said. "Wow!" "They do," I said. "Like dropping a stone in the water. The ripples are stronger where the stone landed but they are felt all the way to the shore. In that instance you caught hell. You know that. You pissed me and your mother off. You know that too. You know the driver caught hell from her parents. She is still feeling the effects of that today, two full years later. What about the other girls? I doubt their parents were happy about having their daughters driven home by some strange man. I'm sure the fallout extended to them. There also is the residual lack of trust that resulted. You probably don't know this but a fair amount of what we go through each time you leave the house is a product of that day. I make sure you understand the expectations before you leave." Kasey shook her head. "I hope I regained your trust since then," she said. "Most of it," I replied. "Not all of it. You were old enough to understand that there would be consequences if your actions were discovered. But either you decided that no one would be the wiser or the benefits outweighed the consequences. Most likely, I would say it is both. Because you took the time to decide to do something that was forbidden to you, there is a part of me that knows it is possible for you to do something similar in the future — such as not being where you're supposed to be when you're supposed to be there." Kasey blushed. "It really wasn't like that, Dad," she said. "His mom needed him to run errands before we left. Those took a lot longer than what we expected. By the time we got everything finished we had to go to the later movie. Then the movie turned out to be longer than we thought it would be. We didn't sneak off or anything." "The fact that you didn't notify your mother of the change in plans is why she suspected you did," I said. "One phone call — one act of consideration — could have prevented a lot of anguish. Your mother called here to see if you had stopped by. When I told her you hadn't she told me that you were supposed to be home by that point. I know Brad's parents, so I called them. His dad told me the story and I called the theater to find out what time the movie ended. I then called your mother back and asked her to inform me if you were home later than midnight. She called me when you pulled into the driveway and I went to bed." "You knew the whole story and you still let mom do that do me?" she asked. "She almost made me strip downstairs." "It wasn't my place to keep your mother apprised of your whereabouts," I stated. "It was yours. You chose not to so you suffer the consequences. I knew what your mother thought and I knew your mother didn't think highly of Brad in the first place. So I expected she would be rather blunt with you. It was another lesson in your life." Kasey was shaking her head. I could see that anger and acceptance were warring in her mind. It doesn't speak highly of me but I didn't care which one of her emotions won at this point. "While I have resigned myself to the fact that you have developed a sexual side, your mother has not," I said. "I believe that when you return from college with your first serious friend, you will find yourselves ensconced in separate rooms at your mother's house. Perhaps he will not even be welcome for overnight stays." "How about here?" she asked. "Depends," I said. "On the boy — or girl, on the nature of your relationship, on the length of time I have known the other person, on the person you've become. There are too many factors to determine that answer at this point." "But you will consider the factors," Kasey said. "You won't just make a determination without thinking it through — like mom apparently has already done." I shrugged. "I can't promise that either," I said. "I might have absolutely no reason for what I decide on that point — and probably many others. I won't know until I'm faced with the situation." Kasey pursed her lips, then she shook her head and smiled. "You're honest with me, Dad," she said. "I could always count on you for that. Even if I didn't like what you had to say I always knew that it was what you believed or what your felt or, most likely, what you knew." The view in front of me was a juxtaposition: Kasey was smiling at me while tears rolled down her shirt. "I know that you will have a hard time forgiving yourself for where I put you today," she said. "But, Daddy, I will never forgive myself for what I did today if it changes what we have. When I'm changing your adult diapers when you're 80 years old, I still want to be feel as close to you as I felt to you this morning — and every other morning of my life. I already know that tomorrow morning is going to be the worst one of my life because when I come down the hallway I won't know how you'll greet me. And even if it is the same way as you always have I'll wonder if you are forcing yourself to do it for my benefit. "But I want you to know, if you know nothing else, I love you as much right now — maybe more right now — as I have my whole life. Please know that." "I love you, too," I told her. My daughter got up from her chair and came and crouched in front of me. She put her hands on mine. "I'm sorry, Dad," she said. "Probably sorrier than you'll ever know." Then she leaned forward and did something she hadn't done since she was 5 years old. She kissed me softly on my lips. ------- Chapter 16 I joined Carrie out front a few minutes later. She smiled wanly. "I didn't hear screaming or breaking glass so I guess it went OK," she said. "I don't know whether it did or not," I told her. "I didn't realize everyday would be a new lesson." I sat heavily beside her. "Maybe the rest of your life," she said with a small laugh. "Yippee," I replied. "She feels badly about what happened and we talked about some other things that have happened in the last few weeks." Carrie was watching me closely. I wasn't certain why. "I think we're on different wave lengths," she said after a moment. "Or you would have amplified that last statement." "What are you thinking about?" I asked. "Not the same things you were," she answered. "But at least Kasey wasn't crying when she came out. Neither are you, so maybe we should just call it a win." "How about we settle for a non-loss," I answered. "I don't think there was anything to be won." "You'd be surprised," Carrie told me. "I hate to keep drawing parallels to my life. But so much of Kasey is like me when I was growing up. I've told you about my Dad. I treasured the man. But that didn't mean I didn't do things that drove him crazy. I'm sure you caused your parents some sleepless nights." "A couple," I admitted. "Dozen," I added upon reflection. "The one major difference between now and how I was with my dad and how you were with your folks, I'll bet, is that you hid what you were doing," Carrie said. "God knows I did. I'm sure my Dad found out all the things I was doing eventually. But it was a while later. At least I hope it was. No, I'm certain it was later. Because he would have said something to me at the time. But he knew I was going to do all those things — beer, smoking, sex, pot — at some point. I'm sure he hoped I wouldn't. Just like you hoped Kasey wouldn't." "It's not that I don't want her to have a life," I insisted. "I don't want to keep her from making mistakes. I've always said I've learned more from my mistakes than I ever did from my successes. But it's hard for me to sit back and watch it. Why can't we have collective memory. When a kid hits about 15 I just download my memories into her head. That way she doesn't have to do the silly shit I did and I don't have to worry about the silly shit she's doing." "But, hon, that's what different," Carrie said. "You don't have to worry about it. Kasey is going to come to you before she does any of that stuff. You probably won't be able to talk her out of any of it but she will at least let you know what's going on in her head. That was more than I offered my Dad." "I do not want to know what is going on in her head," I said firmly. "You thought I was kidding when I told you that I believe there are certain things a father has no business knowing. You've pretty much hit the big ones. But there are more. I did not need to know when she got her first period and when her next one is coming. I do not need to know what size bra she wears and what style she prefers. I don't need to know that she wears thongs and owns a garter belt. I don't want to know which boys she finds cute and which boys have cute butts. I don't need to know what sort of mascara she uses and what sort of deodorant she likes. "You might think she is doing me a favor but I can tell you, she isn't. Look, I deal in facts the same way you deal in equations. You might suspect a company is financially solvent and a model of efficiency. Everything you see might point to that, from the execs' flashy cars to the smiling receptionist to the way the mailroom guy gets the packages processed. But you are not certain, you do not make a decision, until you run the numbers, reach the bottom line and the black number is higher than the red number. Only then are you sure. Only then are you willing to make a decision. Until then it is just supposition and conjecture. "The same is true for me. I might suspect a great number of things. But until I have absolute facts to verify it I don't have to deal with it. Kasey gives me the facts sometimes before I even form a supposition. I had no idea she was even interested in boys until she asked me to discuss the finer points of male-female relationships with her. I probably should have been aware of certain things but without the facts I didn't make the leap. Now, I have no choice. "I know Kasey has tried alcohol at least twice," I continued. "She told before she did it the first time and after the second time. She has smoked one cigarette and I am confident that she will never smoke another." "At least until she learns to drink a little more," Carrie said with a small giggle. It broke my rant completely. "Probably," I agreed. "That is the only time Kelly smoked." "It's the only time I smoke, too," Carrie told me. "My Dad smoked and it drove me crazy. But give me two Vodka martinis and I think I'm Marlene Dietrich." I did a double take. "You drink martinis and know who Marlene Dietrich is?" I asked. "Of course," Carrie said with mock indignation. "I am a college educated professional. I have pretensions you haven't begun to think about. Seriously, though, my Dad liked old movies. I prefer newer ones but some of the old ones really strike a chord with me. But back to your point. Yes, Kasey is up front with you. Believe me when I tell you that is a good thing. I'm not certain of everything Kasey has done but I can tell you almost everything she would have done if you hadn't been there for her. She probably would have done exactly the same things I did. "I tried alcohol at 15 and started having sex shortly after. I tried pot and mushrooms before my 16th birthday. I stole money from my Dad's wallet and cigarettes from his pocket. I didn't have someone to confide in. My Dad was 35 when I was born. That meant when I was Kasey's age, he was in his early 50s. There was no way I could have gone to him to ask him the things you've told me Kasey has asked you. And believe me, what you've told her makes sense to her. Maybe not right now but she hears your words when it comes times to make important decisions." "She might hear it but she ignores it," I said sadly. "Sometimes," Carrie told me gently. "But not always. And she's starting to realize that when she ignores your words she ends up regretting it later. Hon, she's not promiscuous. I can promise you that. She talked to me about things when we were shopping." I nodded. "She gave me chapter and verse a few minutes ago," I said. "Another bit of information I could have done without." "Which is why she didn't tell you until it was necessary for you to know," Carrie assured me. "Hon, I'm going to let you into a little secret. Very few girls get to have an awesome dad. Looking back, I know I could have told my father everything that Kasey shares with you and I probably could have avoided some of the mistakes I made in my early adult years. But I didn't. "But the girls with really great dads have other problems," Carrie continued. "First off, it is going to take a really special guy to steal her heart from her daddy. An ordinary guy is never going to compare when she stacks him up beside her father. So either she'll settle for something less — usually something far less so she won't bother to compare them anymore — or she'll wait and wait and wait until that special guy comes along. That is when she looks down one day and figures out she is 32 years old and still hasn't met anyone who comes near to the man her dad was. "That is what happened to me," she said sadly. "Both things, actually. My first serious boyfriend was a jerk and I knew he was a jerk. But all the other guys I'd dated paled around my Dad. This guy did, too. But the comparison was so stark that I just overlooked them. We moved in together and talked about marriage. Thank God I wised up. I decided I would wait until I met a man that could meet the standards my father set. Well, it took 8 years but I think I've finally met him." I started to say something but Carrie continued. "The other problem that girls like me and Kasey face is more difficult," she said. "Please hear me out before you get angry or sad or whatever you are going to do. My Dad wasn't perfect. Far from it and he would have been the first to make sure you knew that. Just like you do. But he was perfect to me. Hon, my father was my fantasy man until I was in my mid-20s. He was the one I learned to flirt with. He was the one I used to tempt. He was the person I was closest to so he was the one I used to improve my self-image. "If my Dad told me I was pretty it didn't make much difference to me. All dads think their daughter is pretty. But when my Dad thought I was sexy I knew for a fact I was sexy. When I could make my Dad do a double take, I knew I had it. Hon, that is what Kasey has been doing the past few months. I think the experiences she has had with boys have left her, well, unfulfilled. She worries that it is something she has done. She isn't pretty enough. She isn't sexy enough. The past week, your daughter has been flirting with you. The tights the other day were for you. She wanted to see you check out her butt like you checked out mine. I have no doubt that the boob show you got when she was 13 or 14 was for your benefit, to show you that she got them, to get you to look at them. I have no doubt that the subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle innuendos that she tosses your way are for the exact same reasons. Her mind is screaming at her: 'He is your perfect man, make him notice you.'" I guess Carrie could see the look on my face so she held up her hand to stop me from speaking. "Hon, she doesn't want to have sex with you," she said. "At least I don't think so. It was fun for me to think about but I wasn't really interested in my Dad that way. But she wants to know that she is desirable. She wants to know that her Dad not only thinks she is pretty but that he thinks she is sexy, too. In some ways it's just practice for when she meets a man who compares to you. This might sound sick but I'm living out some of the fantasy I've had for two decades with you." I let out the breath I had been holding for a minute. I could see from the look on Carrie's face that she was serious — and that it cost her a lot to tell me about the feelings she held for her father. I also knew that her opinion, based on her own experiences, was that Kasey was acting the same way around me as she had around her father. "So what am I supposed to do?" I wondered aloud. "Just what you're doing, I guess," Carrie said. "I know you think I'm full of it. But think about the past few weeks before you dismiss it out of hand." She chuckled. "I could be wrong about this," she said eventually. "You might be right. She might just be one weird kid." "Either way, I'm right about that one," I said. ------- I dreaded the next morning. Not only because I had to return to work but because I wasn't really interested facing Kasey — for numerous reasons. I awoke as I had for the previous few mornings, with Carrie wrapped around me. I knew she had no reason to get up at 7 a.m. so I tried to let her sleep. Still, when I exited the shower she was already out of bed and I smelled coffee brewing. She sat with me and we talked about what I expected to find at work that morning and what we had planned for the remainder of the week. I was preparing to head out the door to work and I realized Kasey hadn't made her grand appearance yet. So I bit the bullet and went back to assure my little girl that I still loved her. I knocked on her door lightly and was surprised when she told me to come in. I was further surprised when I saw she was awake and up and about. The surprise turned to complete shock when I saw she was wearing only a tight tank top and very tiny panties. It was more of Kasey than I had seen since our ill-fated water park trip two summers earlier. Luckily the shock extended past me. "Dad!" she screeched as she grabbed for her robe. "Sorry," I mumbled as I turned my head. "I thought you were Carrie ready to go running," she said. I assumed Kasey would be covered so I turned back around. Instead she was standing there with the robe over her shoulders but open in the front. "Uh," I stammered. "I'm off to work. I just wanted to stop in and tell you I love you and that I'll see you later tonight." Kasey smiled. I wasn't sure if it was at my discomfort or because I told her I loved her. "Thanks, Dad," she said. "I couldn't bring myself to go out there this morning. I wasn't sure how you'd treat me." "Well, I'm off," I said but Kasey closed the gap between us in only a second and wrapped me in a hug. "I love you, too," she murmured into my chest. Then she pulled back and straightened my tie. When she brushed imaginary lint off my jacket collar I leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't forget you and Carrie still have to pick out costumes for the party," I reminded her. "We don't want another last-minute fiasco like the Christmas thing, do we?" "I can still go?" she asked excitedly. "Of course," I replied. "I know how much you're looking forward to it." Kasey beamed and fixed my tie for me again. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me — on the lips — again. "You're the best, Dad," she said. "And you look very nice this morning." I thanked her and turned to leave. "Aren't you going to tell me how nice I look today?" she asked with a giggle. "You're a very attractive young lady," I said — without the giggle. "Now get some pants on." I was still shaking my head as I got my got to the front door, where Carrie was waiting for me. She gave me a kiss — and fixed my damned tie again — then shuttled me out into the cold. ------- Chapter 17 Work was, in a word, work. At least until 2 p.m. rolled around. Then it took a different turn. In a moment eerily reminiscent of a week or so earlier, Kelly called. "Mike, I was wondering if I might ask you something," she began in a halting voice. "Sure, what's up, Kel?" I asked in a suitably cheerful voice. I was greeted by silence for a few seconds. "This is not the reaction I was expecting," she said eventually. "Actually, I figured you would probably be a bit reluctant to allow me to ask you for anything — despite the gains we've made in the past few days." "Hey, the last favor I did for you worked out OK for me," I replied. "I met Carrie and my heart was warmed by the knowledge that you were spending a few days in the pleasant company of your grandfather." Again, I kept my tone light and I hoped Kelly would recognize that I was — mostly — joking. "There is that," she admitted with a chuckle. "Damn, I should have thought of something really big for the next favor. If I would have known you were going to act like a human being about things I would have put more time into it." "The key word is 'act' let's not forget," I said and my ex-wife and I joined in laughter for perhaps the 12th time in the 19 years we'd known the other. "So, what's up?" "Well, you know the game is on tonight, right?" she said. "Oh, shit," I answered. "Believe it or not, I completely forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me." "You're welcome," she said. "Now here comes the favor." She paused as if she was gathering the nerve to ask me to lend her my TV. I suddenly realized there was a second reason I still owned a set — college football. "Can I come over and watch the game with you, Carrie and the kids?" she asked in a hurried voice. "Sure," I answered without hesitation. "Uh, don't you think you should call Carrie and ask if she minds?" Kelly gently pointed out. "I guess I should but I don't think it'll be a problem," I told her. "I mean, it's not like we're going to be watching it in the bedroom or anything. Hell, I don't even have a radio in my bedroom." Kelly laughed again. "Why don't you give her a call and then call me back," she urged. "I'm certain it will be better that way. But I hope she's OK with it. I was planning to just go to a bar and watch it but I didn't want to be the lone Pitt fan in a room full of worthless nuts." I laughed in spite of myself. "I see you were at least paying a little bit of attention to my diatribes during our marriage," I joked. "Well, the saying is certain apropos," she said with a girlish giggle that I hadn't heard since minutes into our first encounter. "I mean, what the hell is a Buckeye anyway and why would you name your sports teams after it?" "You realize Ohio State is in the same university system as where you work, right?" I said. "And Penn State is in the same one as Pitt," she rejoined. "Are you going to start rooting for the Nittany Lions anytime soon?" "Just the moment hell freezes over," I offered. "Well, you and I have had a series of conversations without resorting to name calling so I would guess Satan is probably expecting at least a frost," Kelly replied. "It might not freeze over but I'm betting the higher elevations are in for some frigid temperatures," I told her. "You're right about that. But I still ain't rooting for those damned Ag students from State College. They have a golf course management degree, for Christ's sake. Who it the fuck needs a four-year degree to push a lawn mower." "It takes them 3 years just to figure out how to start it," she said. "You know you have to put down the beer to pull the cord. So, anyway, call Carrie and let me know, OK?" I agreed and called my house. Not surprisingly — since I was driving my car — Carrie was there. "Hey, any plans for tonight?" I asked. "Oh, yeah," she said. "My ass, your couch, my alma mater on the tube. Sorry, buster, it might only be the Tidy Bowl but when the Bucks play, I watch." Well shit. "Don't even tell me you went to Ohio State," I said. "Jesus, Lord have mercy. I should have known that when I found the flaw it would be a fatal one. By the way, your chestnuts are going to get roasted tonight — by my alma mater." "You went to Pitt," Carrie said accusingly. "You betcha," I told her. "Mother fuck," she said. "Well said, Shakespeare," I joked. "I see that bachelor's in English from OSU is really paying off for you." "Ha, ha," she said. "Like your history degree is paying your bills." "Hey, last I checked my political science degree was paying your bills, too," I joked. "Laugh it up, Fuzzball," Carrie told me. "We'll compare net worths after the first of the year." "Well, you got to throw Kelly's in with mine to make it fair," I told her. "After all, what's hers is hers and what's mine is hers." "You better be talking cash only, pal," she warned in mock agitation. "Cash, credit cards, mortgages, car loans, tuition bills," I listed. "By the way, you are going to be seriously outnumbered tonight so you might wanna sit quietly, not that you'll much to cheer about. Kasey and Mark are both being raised the right way." "I'll convert them," Carrie told me. "They like me best." "Kasey maybe," I stated. "Mark, not a chance." "Wait until he hits 12," Carrie warned. "I'll give him one glance at my bra and he'll follow me around like a puppy dog trying to get another." "Hey, no fair," I said. "I can't compete with that." "Too bad, so sad," Carrie sing-songed. "You get the next 7 year. I get the 7 after that. He'll be heading to Ohio State, just like me." "You only love me for my children," I pouted. "Figured it out, did you?" she giggled. "Kelly wanted to know if she could come over to watch the game with us," I explained. "She didn't want to watch it by herself nor did she want to be accosted by a bunch of drunken losers — I mean, Ohio State fans. Wait, that's what I said the first time. Sorry." "It's your house," Carrie said. "And I really can't tell you who you can invite over." "I didn't invite her over," I told her. "She asked if I minded. I don't mind but she thought it would be best if I asked you. After all, you control seven-eighths of the money and 100 percent of the hoo-ha." "Good point and good choice," Carrie said. "Also good thinking. It's a shame all the training Kelly put into you isn't going to do her any good. But I'm fine with her coming over. It gives me one more adult to razz when the Buckeyes do all sorts of nasty things to your team. I mean, I already know I can make Kasey cry. I'm pretty sure I can make Mark cry if I put my mind to it. You'll cry if make threats about withholding certain favors. So you're easy. But when I make Kelly cry over a football game, it'll really mean something to me." ------- Kelly was aghast when I informed her of Carrie's allegiances. "I know it's repugnant but I think we need to be allies in this," she said seriously. "Just like the kids," I replied in the same tone. "United front. But you realize this is entirely out of our hands, right?" "So are the kids," Kelly stated. "But what are you gonna do?" "Why don't you come on over for dinner?" I said. "I'm planning to cut out of here about 5:30 or 6. I'll grab a couple of pizzas in honor of our bowl sponsor." "That sounds nice," Kelly said. "I'll call Carrie and we'll coordinate the remainder of the menu." "You mean the beer?" I asked. "I mean, it's pizza. What else do we need but beer?" Kelly laughed. She knew I rarely drank in front of the kids, not that I found it morally objectionable. It was just something that I seldom did. Mark was too active — physically and mentally — for me to dull my senses. Kasey had seen me drink — as responsibly as I knew how — on a few occasions. But college football was about anything but responsible drinking. "Maybe I will pick up a six pack for us to share," Kelly said. Kelly was not a beer drinker. She didn't like the taste of it very much and she didn't like the fact that it held so many calories. She was more of a white wine and brie cheese type — or at least that is type person she had transformed into. "Don't go to any trouble on our account," I said. "I doubt I'll drink more than one. Carrie is more of a mixed drink type. You hate beer. That just leaves Kasey to consume it." "Kasey is not a fan of beer but then again she probably has only drank the swill that kids can afford," Kelly said. In unison we both exclaimed: "U-S-A beer!" Then we broke into spontaneous laughter. We were loud enough that Elizabeth Drayton poked her head into my office to see what the commotion was about. She smiled in a motherly fashion when she saw I was on the phone and not swearing. "I can't believe we once drank U Save Alot beer," Kelly said in my ear. I raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth to see if she needed anything. "Just checking," Elizabeth said sweetly then closed my door and returned to her desk. "If I were to mention to some of your colleagues that you know what USA beer is you'd never get tenure," I joked. "Two can play that game, Mr. Cavenaugh," Kelly replied. "Perhaps I should tell some of your employees the same thing. I'm sure your worth would diminish in their eyes." "Shit, with what I pay those poor bastards out there I'm betting that some of them still drink that piss water," I said and I was only half joking. "I'd probably be elected their king." "Good point," Kelly said. "Anyway, I've got to get going. See you tonight, Mike." I replied the same and hung up to check to see what Elizabeth had needed. "That is maybe the first time I've heard real laughter in that office in half a decade," she told me when I asked her. "With your predecessor I would hear mostly sobs and muttered oaths. With you, I hear loud curses and slamming objects. I was somewhat surprised to hear peals of mirth coming from within and I wanted to make sure that you hadn't gone around the bend." "Around the bend remains to be seen," I said. "But the laughter wasn't the result of a psychotic break just yet." "That woman seems to be good for you," Elizabeth opined uninvited. "You should be sure to hold on to her tightly." I laughed again. "It would shock you mightily to know that the laughter was the result of a conversation with my ex-wife not my maybe future one," I told her. Elizabeth had seen the sound and fury of my relationship with Kelly. In fact, I had few secrets from Elizabeth Drayton. First, she scared the crap out of me so if she asked, I told. Secondly she was protective of me so there were times she had been witness to portions of my relationship that others didn't see. "That would shock me indeed," she said. "And I do not shock easily. In fact, I can't recall being shocked at anything since I was perhaps 15 years old." I raised an eyebrow again. "The size of Eli Schwartz's schwartz was somewhat frightening," she said with pursed lips and a flash of merriment in her eyes. "The first couple I saw would have to go end to end to compete with Eli's." "Too much information," I said with feigned disgust. "Just like my daughter, I do not want to know that much about my adopted mother." I saw the merriment drop from Elizabeth's eyes and something else replace it — tears. "Thank you, Mike," she said. "It's sweet to hear that you speak so highly of me. But I'm not really the mother type. Maybe I could be your adopted auntie instead." "How about slightly older sister?" I offered. Elizabeth was in her mid 50s but she could probably still turn the heads of men two-thirds her age. "Maybe slightly younger sister." "Sounds nice but I think aunt will suffice," she joked. "Now, what was causing so much laughter from your ex-wife? Did she ask you for a loan or something?" I chuckled. "We've been getting along better the past week or so," I said. "She's coming over to watch the game tonight with Carrie and me and we were joking about some of the stuff we did in college." A look of anguish passed across Elizabeth's features. "Oh, that's right," she said softly. "You poor darling, I had forgotten that you went to that awful institution in that awful state. At least you came to your senses and moved here as soon as you could. I hope you're not too disappointed in the morning." "I have found my mornings to be somewhat nice lately," I said. "Tomorrow will be no different — especially since Pitt will win tonight. Carrie, on the other hand, might find tomorrow a bit disappointing." "She is a graduate of The Ohio State University," I offered in way of explanation. "Poor kid, probably couldn't get accepted to community college." "Oh, this might be fun," Elizabeth said. "I can't wait to hear about it." "Why don't you come over tonight?" I offered. "You'll get the chance to meet Carrie and a chance to see Kelly without a stick in her behind." "Oh, I couldn't," Elizabeth said. "Why not?" I asked. "You seem to have a rooting interest and I'm sure Carrie will enjoy having some emotional support. Unless you have other plans, of course." "You certain that you won't mind?" she wondered. "I can be somewhat vulgar when college football is concerned." I laughed again. "You'll fit right in," I told her. "Besides, I know Carrie wants to meet you. I've mentioned your name to her often enough that she probably already thinks she knows you. It'll be fun." "That sounds very nice, Mike," Elizabeth said with a nod. "I think I'll do just that." With that decision out of the way I went back to my office to inform Carrie that my administrative assistant would be joining us as well and to finish out my work day. ------- Chapter 18 I was greeted by laughter from four separate sources and a 5-year-old hitting me like a linebacker when I came inside my home that evening. Mark's shot to my knees almost caused me to dump 3 pizzas on top of his head. "Hey, Champ," I said as I regained my balance. "You're getting a bit too big to launch yourself from across the room at me." Mark looked up at me a grinned. There was no remorse in his eyes, only the warmness that I had come to love. Balancing pizzas and my briefcase, I leaned down and planted a kiss on top of his head. "That is so sweet," I heard Elizabeth Drayton say in a hushed tone. I gave a kiss on the cheek to Kelly and Kasey and Carrie a slight peck on the lips. Then, against all decorum, I gave Elizabeth a kiss on the cheek, too. "I see you found the place with no trouble," I told her. She rubbed the spot on her cheek lightly while she smiled up at me. "I found it with no trouble at all, Mike," she said sweetly. "Your family is delightful — nothing at all like you've led me to believe." I knew she was kidding and I was happy to realize that everyone else did, too. "They're on their best behavior," I said. "Believe me, once the game starts all bets are off." "Oh, no," Carrie chimed in. "All bets are on. Which by the way, you and I need to come to terms." "No bets," I said. "If I lose I wind up eating Ramen noodles for a month. Any money I win would wind up going to Kelly anyway. So place your bets with her." "Oh yeah, I heard about the buzzer at her house," Carrie joked. "It's a good system." Carrie explained the joke to Kelly, who looked scandalized. Of course Kasey and Elizabeth were laughing uproariously so Kelly joined in too. "You could just keep your winnings under the bed or something," Kelly said. "Since Pitt's going to win. If you take Carrie's money I won't come for it. Well, not all of it. I still get, let's say, 35 percent." It was the most generous offered I'd heard from Kelly in years. As it was, I was paying almost 55 percent of my after-tax income in child support and spousal support. "How about you Kasey?" I asked. "Who are you rooting for?" She looked from me to Carrie. I could tell her allegiances were torn. Kelly was not a consideration. "Can I tell you at halftime?" she asked. "Maybe I can root for Pitt to win the first half and Ohio State to win the second." "Traitor," I hissed. "We raised a turncoat," Kelly said sadly. "A complete turncoat. I had so much hope of her attending Pitt." "Did you graduate from Pittsburgh, too?" Elizabeth asked Kelly. "Well, no," she said sadly. "I wanted to but it wasn't possible." "She was the breadwinner while I finished college," I said. "She went to Pitt for four semesters. Then I got a job in Virginia so she went to a small college there. Then maybe four others. Her actual undergraduate degree is from Cal-Berkeley. She got her master's from Stanford and her doctorate from the University of Indiana." I couldn't keep pride out of my voice. Cal, Stanford and IU were top-flight schools. She had worked hard for her career — spread out over 15 years. Kelly smiled sadly. "I still wished I could have wound up at Pitt," she said. "Maybe I can teach there someday. I do plan to go with Kasey this spring when we visit. If she still wants to visit." Kasey put her arm around her mom. "Even if I don't go there, we'll visit," she assured her. "Kasey has been accepted to Pitt, Ohio State, WVU and we're waiting to hear back from Cornell," I said — and the pride I had in Kelly's accomplishments was even more evident when I spoke of Kasey's. "I've narrowed my choices down," Kasey said. "I've decided to stay as close as I can. Pitt or Ohio State is probably as far as I want to be away." "What about here?" Elizabeth asked. "I'm a little leery of attending classes where Mom teaches," Kasey answered. "But it would be nice to stay close by. I've been thinking of applying to a small school a little further south in West Virginia. I'm not sure. I know it's getting late but I'm really having a change of heart about how far I want to go." "So, Carrie, you went to Ohio State?" Elizabeth asked. "My son graduated from there." "I got my bachelor's in accounting from Ohio State," she said. "But my MBA is from Cincinnati." I knew Elizabeth had far more education than what her job required — but I suspected I was the only one. "So why would a SUNY graduate be an Ohio State fan?" I asked her. "Oh that's right, the New York college football teams are awful." "Hey, watch that," Elizabeth said as she slapped my arm. "Syracuse won four games last year but Buffalo went to a bowl game. They're really getting better. We won't discuss Army, though." Kelly picked up the theme. "What's your degree in?" she asked. "Nursing," Elizabeth answered. "Wow, it seems like you would be able to get a job in that field pretty easily," Kasey chimed in. "Oh, I suppose I could except for one problem," Elizabeth answered with a blush. "I found very early in my career that I hate arrogant doctors and whiny patients. I suppose I should have investigated that a little earlier. My second, no third, husband had business dealings here. So I moved here with him and took the job I have now. That was in 1979. I found I enjoyed what I'm doing so I stayed there — even after my next two husbands passed away." "Wow, I was two years old when you started there!" Carrie said. "I honestly figure that you were about Mike's age." "See, I told you, younger sister," I said with a wink. "Do you realize that in the 30 years I've sat outside that office that this is the first time I've ever been to my boss' house?" Elizabeth said. "No kidding?" I asked. "And since when did I become your boss? I thought it was the other way around." "I have been invited before but I've never felt the urge to attend," she said. "But, well, you are much easier to get along with than the others who graced your office." Kelly coughed and I saw beer come out her nose. "Sorry, I was positive that I heard you say that Mike was easy to get along with," she said as she cleaned up the counter. "That couldn't possibly been right." I shielded the fact that I gave Kelly the finger from our children. "Well, I said he was easier to get along with," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. "I did not say he was easy to get along with. It's all relative." "Yeah and the only reason you think I'm difficult to deal with is the fact that I used to be your relative," I said. "What's my excuse?" Carrie asked. "You're just a curmudgeon," I said. "You hate everyone. I just get caught in the crossfire." Carrie stuck her tongue out at me. ------- I was cleaning up the kitchen — OK, I was throwing away the paper plates — when Carrie sidled up beside me. "So, here's the bet," she said. "For 24 hours, the loser has to do whatever the winner says. I mean complete slave. If Ohio State wins, you will be my personal property for 24 hours. You will make no decisions on your own. You will go nowhere and do nothing without asking me first. If I want you to do anything, you will do it. If Pitt wins, the same is true for me — New Year's Day." I considered it for a moment. I couldn't imagine Carrie making me do anything that I would find repulsive. I knew I wouldn't make her do anything like that. So I agreed. "I hope it snows like a bastard on New Year's Day because you are going to be introduced pretty quickly to that snow shovel," I said. "And my garage is just begging for a thorough cleaning." It looked like I had a good chance of winning the bet — right up to the opening kickoff. After that it was pretty apparent that Ohio State was in a far different class than my Panthers. The final score was 38-10 and I can assure you the game wasn't nearly that close. By midway through the third quarter the game was completely forgotten. Mark and Kasey had both gone to bed leaving just the four adults. "So, how did you and Mike meet?" Carrie asked Kelly. Kelly blushed — after all she had drank four beers in 2 hours. "In a bar," she said. "It was pretty funny. You have to understand, Mike and his friend Scott practically owned this bar near the campus. I was just 18 and my roommate and I got a fake ID and worked up the courage to try it out. The only place to sit in this place was a table in the back — right by the dart board. A bunch of people told us that we were in Mike and Scott's seats. But since neither of us had ever heard of them, we didn't pay much attention. "We were still trying to choke down our first beer when all the sudden the crowd parted like the Red Sea and two guys and maybe 7 or 8 girls came strolling toward our table. Mike just sort of lifted his eyebrow like Mr. Spock when he saw us sitting in his chair. He glanced at Scott and Scott just shrugged. Instead of kicking us out of their table he asked if they could join us. I mean, by that point there had been maybe a dozen people who had stopped by to tell us we were at Mike's table. It was like a shrine or something. Then he got the bartender to fix me a sloe gin fizz and the rest is history." "It wasn't our table," I said. "It was so your table," Kelly insisted. "Listen, Mike and Scott were like the Gods of intramural sports at Pitt. Their basketball team was probably good enough to beat a couple of Division I teams in the area. He is really a great athlete. Mike and Scott were like the two coolest guys in the school, at least among the bar crowd. Everyone knew them. Mike, get your photo album out. The intramural basketball championships were at the old Field House. A professional photographer took pictures. Mike was awesome. Anyway, I got drunk that night — for the first time ever — and Mike walked me back to my dorm. I have to confess that I was sorely disappointed when he didn't kiss me goodnight." "I was a little worried that you would puke on me," I said. "I might have," Kelly admitted. "I was not feeling well. I felt even worse the next morning until I realized I had Mike's number in my pocket. We started dating and well, then I got pregnant. The rest is history." Carrie looked at me with a smirk. "You were the king of campus, huh?" she asked. "I was the king of freshman girls," I replied with a blush. "I was a sophomore," Kelly said quickly. "And yes he was. When we started dating, well, there was more than one girl who gave me the evil eye. Some even thought I got pregnant on purpose." "If you don't mind me asking, how did that happen?" Elizabeth asked. "I mean, there are ways to avoid pregnancy that are very effective." I sighed and glanced at Kelly, who shrugged. "Are you aware that certain antibiotics counteract birth control pills?" I asked with resignation. Carrie's eyes got wide as had Elizabeth's. "No," Elizabeth said. "Well, yeah, neither were we," I said. "I mean, it's written on the drug interaction pamphlet you get but I would think that it would be in rather large flashing letters on the damned thing." "Oh, shit," Carrie said — and she raced back to the bedroom. My jaw dropped as I glanced at Kelly. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said. Kelly burst out laughing — much to Elizabeth's consternation. "It's not funny," Elizabeth said. "No," Kelly agreed. "That fact is not funny. But Mike, do you remember what your first words were when I told you I was pregnant the first time?" I shook my head. "'You've got to be fucking kidding me, '" Kelly intoned. "And do you remember what you said when I told you I was pregnant with Mark?" I lowered my head in shame. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," Kelly repeated. "Honest to God, Elizabeth. Both times that is what he said. Now, in his defense, once he got over his shock he was much more supportive. But his initial reaction was identical to what you've seen. And my reaction was identical to his. When the stick turned blue I said the exact same thing." Elizabeth glared at me for a moment before her look softened. "Which exactly what I said when I found out my son was on his way," she admitted with a grin. "Now, Mike, don't you think you should check out how Carrie is doing?" I sighed and walked down the hallway. Carrie was sitting on the bed studiously scanning the drug interaction message. She glanced up when I walked in. "There is no interaction issue but we have another problem," she said as she shook her head sadly. "Damn it, Mike. I am so sorry. But, the next day — the day after Lemons grabbed me — I don't remember if I took my pill or not. I always take them first thing in the morning. I don't know if the hospital gave me one or if I asked for one or not. I slept until after noon and I just didn't pay attention to what I was given. I should have thought of this before now, don't you think." "Hey, I was there, too," I replied. "It is as much my responsibility to consider this as it is yours. It didn't occur to me to ask if you were sure you were still on schedule. I had a pretty decent idea how traumatic it was for you and what that next day must have been like. Who am I kidding? I have no idea or frame of reference for what you went through. I should have been more diligent in ensuring this wouldn't happen. We'll deal with this when the time is right. There is no sense in worrying about it right now." "You're not pissed off?" she asked. "I mean, you don't think I'm trying to trap you or something." I laughed out loud. "Believe me, I am trapped already," I said. "Besides, I should be the one trying to trap you. You're the catch, not me. So no, I'm not mad." I leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. "I hope you're not upset — if it happens or the reason behind it," I said. "I don't think I am but well, let's talk about this when we're alone," she suggest. I kissed her softly again and we headed down the hallway to the living room where all conversation had ceased. Kelly looked up expectantly (no pun intended) when we sat down. I knew she wanted to know what was happening but I wasn't going to say anything unless Carrie wanted me to. I thought it was Carrie's place to start the discussion — not mine, Kelly's or Elizabeth's. Carrie must have thought the same thing because her cheeks had barely hit the couch cushion before she spoke. "There is no drug interaction with what I'm taking," she said with a slight blush. "But we have another question that I think Kelly might be able to help with." Kelly's face had relaxed when Carrie talked about the antibiotic but tightened again as soon as Carrie asked for her help. "The next morning — the morning in the hospital, I know you were there with me," Carrie said. I saw Elizabeth's interest perk up at that statement. "Yes," Kelly said. "The doctors had determined that you didn't need any professional care but everyone thought it might be better if you awoke to find someone in your room besides medical personnel." Carrie smiled and the room lit up. At least it seemed that way to me. "That was very nice of you and I did and do appreciate it," she said. "I was a bit startled when I first woke up and then I saw you sleeping in the chair beside me so I felt comfortable enough to take a moment to gather my bearings before I freaked out." Kelly smiled but I could see she was embarrassed. It dawned on me that I had never considered how much Kelly had helped people with some of the things she had done. It has just assumed it was another form of self promotion. But in that one moment I realized that she did those things not for herself but for others. I think Elizabeth saw the recognition dawn on my face and she offered me a soft pat on the hand. "Do you remember, that first morning in the hospital, what medication they gave me?" Carrie asked Kelly. "Oh," Kelly said quietly. "No, I'm sorry. The doctors would never give me authorization to know that. That is all confidential. Most of the time I never even know what happened to the person. Sometimes I don't even know their names. All I do is try to provide a friendly face and to lessen the anxiety that the person probably is feeling. I just give them an outlet for their frustrations and try to answer general questions. I don't have the training or the knowledge to do any more than that." "So you don't know if I took my pill that morning?" Carrie asked quietly. Kelly had lowered her eyes as she spoke about her volunteer role at the hospital but she raised them quickly when Carrie asked the question. "Most usually, that is a question that is asked during the initial intake — what sort of medications you're on," Kelly said. "I've sat through a couple of those with women who needed someone nearby. So if you told them that you were taking OCP, they likely included it in your morning meds." "That's the thing, I don't remember if they asked that night," she said. "I'm almost certain it was the next morning, the morning I was released, when the doctor gave me a prescription." "Well if she gave you a prescription she must have known you were taking it," Elizabeth put in. "Did you ask her for one?" Carrie shook her head. "The night everything happened was very hectic," Kelly said. "There were cops all over the place and Carrie, well, she looked horrific." She apologized quickly but Carrie brushed it off, saying she was right. "I can't remember if they even did an intake assessment or if they just admitted her," Kelly said. "There were a lot of questions about what happened." "They wanted to see if he had raped me," Carrie said angrily. Elizabeth's hand shot toward her mouth but she stopped it halfway there. "As I said, it was hectic," Kelly said diplomatically. "I do not agree in the slightest with the way they handle those situations." "Nor do I," Carrie said harshly. "It was like being attacked all over again. The nurse was sweet and so were you, Kelly, but that doctor is an asshole." "All doctors are assholes," Elizabeth said. "It's like it is an inconvenience for the gods they feel themselves to be to come down from upon high to tend to us mere mortals." Carrie and Kelly laughed but I found my temper rising — both at Lemons and the jerk of a doctor. "You would think they would have a female doctor on staff to handle such delicate things," I offered. "It was a woman," both Carrie and Kelly said. "Oh," I replied. "I guess I supposed that female doctors would be a little more compassionate. I apologize. It seems I have over-estimated your gender once again." Carrie leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. "Women can be assholes just as easily as men can," she said. I saw Kelly's face turn red and she looked down at her hand. I think she thought it was a veiled shot at her actions. Hell, maybe it was. "So what you're saying is that there is no issue from medication that you're taking but there might be one from medication that you might not have taken," Elizabeth said. "Exactly," Carrie stated. "I have taken a pill each morning, religiously, since I was 14 years old. For almost 20 freakin' years I have never missed a one of those pills. Between the hours of 7 and 9 every morning I take a pill. It has become so much of my routine that it never popped into my head that I might have missed one. When Mike asked me what sort of protection we needed, it never occurred to me that we would need more than what I already thought I provided. I guess I need to contact that god-awful doctor tomorrow to see what, exactly, the situation is." "Just call billing," Kelly offered. "I can guarantee you that if they gave you one, you were charged for it — probably for the entire prescription. Make sure you look at it when you get the bill. If they charged you for a whole bottle of aspirin or a whole bottle of Demerol or whatever, make sure you go get it. You are entitled to it. If it is a Schedule I or II narcotic, you ask for it. If they won't give it to you, you either ask them to remove it from your bill or you make sure they destroy the amount of medicine that they charged you for. Those bastards at the hospital make their huge profits by double, triple or ten-fold charging patients for the same bottle of medicine. "I wouldn't mind if they weren't such pricks about taking on patients without insurance," Kelly continued. "But God forbid you show up there with a visible means of paying for something. They shuffle you around and then you get about half the quality of care that folks with insurance get. It pisses me off to see that. Then they hound the hell of the patient while she is there. Like being stuck in the hospital isn't enough of a worry. The women I see there are usually in far worse shape that Carrie was — not physically but emotionally. You've seen them at Hope Haven, Carrie, you know what I mean. And to have some prick of a hospital administrator show up and ask how you propose to pay for your stay when you're not sure exactly how you are going to feed your kids the next day is just so much bullshit." I could see the soapbox appear magically beneath Kelly's feet. "You're preaching to the choir, Kel," I said softly. The zeal left her eyes and she appeared to notice that we were still in the room. Kelly smiled softly. "Sorry," she said. "I feel very strongly about this." "And rightfully so," I answered. "That's the thing that always gets me about nationalized health care. You know it. I said the same thing when Clinton offered it up in the 90s. There is no way to make it work without rigid tort reform. We have to stop the billion dollar payouts on malpractice lawsuits. We have to reign in the lawyers before we can reign in health care costs. There are no two ways about it. Look at Scott. He was my friend in college. He is a pediatrician in Myrtle Beach. He spends more in malpractice insurance than he does for anything else at his practice. You know, sometimes people die. It happens and sometimes doctors can't explain why they died. Scott is in an awful position because when kids die parents sue. Parents sue the doctor; parents sue the hospital; parents sue just about anything they can sue. "Even if it is a nuisance suit, it costs money to defend. Hospitals and doctors have to ensure payment from those they treat because the cost of doing business is so high for them. Because lawyers and grieving relatives make it so high for them. I'm sure that if something were to happen to anyone in the house right now, I would demand answers. I'm also positive that I would be reluctant to accept that medical science could not provide those answers. I would be certain that the doctor or the nurse or the hospital had screwed up and they were covering their asses. I might even file a lawsuit against them. But as much as I care for everyone in this house, I'm not certain that I would deserve a billion dollars even if someone made a mistake." "But they have to be held accountable," Carrie said. "Hospitals and most doctors aren't there because of some great love for humanity. They are there because it is a very lucrative business. Just like being an attorney is a lucrative business. The way you stop businesses from making mistakes is to hold them accountable. The only place it truly hurts these businesses is in the bottom line. You take away their profits and they either get better or they fold and someone else takes over who can do it better. Certainly verdicts have gotten out of hand. I have a couple of small clinics that I do audits for. I know that Mike is correct. The cost of insurance is astronomical. But not when you consider exactly what services they perform. If I am an armed security guard licensed to carry large sums of currency, the insurance against me is higher than if I am a rent-a-cop at the mall. It's called a surety bond — money that I pay out each year to ensure I'm covered in case something happens to the money I'm responsible for. "I'm bonded for up to a million dollars and because I'm self-employed I pay it myself," Carrie continued. "At varying times in my career I have sat down in a room with that much money in front of me. Not on paper but actual currency. The cost of the insurance to protect me against robbery or theft is higher than if I wasn't bonded. That's why smokers pay a higher health insurance premium than non-smokers. It's why stunt pilots have a hard time getting life insurance. It's why teen drivers cost more on your car insurance than adult drivers. There is a risk-ratio that has to be considered. Doctors and hospitals are one of the few places where mistakes can be fatal. That can't be overlooked." "I tend to agree and disagree with what each of you has said," Elizabeth stated. "I've been married five times. My first husband was a cop in Detroit. Even though it was a dangerous job we were able to afford a substantial life insurance policy on top of what the union provided. My second husband was an attorney, so I can say without hesitation that tort reform will never happen. A significant portion of all politicians above the local level are lawyers. There is no benefit to the legislature to hinder lawsuits or damages. It hits them where they live. So that is a pipe dream. Although I do agree that is necessary in order to make a one-payer system work. My third husband was a stock broker. That portion of society creates other issues but none that really pertain to what we're talking about. My fourth husband was chiropractor, so I have a firm grasp on exactly what insurance companies will and won't cover. Dennis had two sets of fees — one for insured and one for uninsured. "Ironically, the uninsured were forced to pay more. Insurance companies are pretty much guilty of collusion on all fronts. They conspire to set prices and services regardless of the market. For instance, my husband worked in an area where there were only two other licensed chiropractors. He could charge a significant amount of money for his services because the market would bear it. There was little competition. But he couldn't do that because the insurance companies wouldn't pay it. They used the same formula for him as they did in an area with 100 chiropractors — or even a thousand. He had to agree to live with their price limits to treat patients they covered. "Mike, do you remember when the auto body repair shops tried that a couple of years ago?" I nodded. "The body shop owners got together and decided that they were going to charge more per hour for their labor than what the insurance companies were willing to cover," I explained. "The insurance companies steer clients to a particular dealership shop and they let the dealership charge more per hour than the smaller shops. When the insurance companies refused to raise the per hour rate for the independent businesses, the owners did it themselves." Elizabeth picked up the story. "The first thing the insurance companies did was urge the consumers to sue the body shops for price fixing," she said. "I found it highly ironic, given the fact that the insurance companies are guilty of that exact practice. Still, a court declared the body shop owners in collusion and forced them to lower their rates back to the insurance company standard. They also fined the crap out of them and a great many of them closed and took bankruptcy rather than pay it. It was a complete sham. As soon as the smaller competitors were gone, the insurance company raised the allowance for the dealerships because the demand was significantly higher than the supply. So the rich got richer and people who had been in business for 25 years got screwed." Kelly was sitting wide-eyed in her chair. "The thing is, insurance companies are granted an exemption," Carrie said. "Because Medicare and Medicaid conspire to set prices, independent insurance carriers can do the same thing. The government allows them to fix costs." "Now that the government owns GM, maybe it will let body shops do the same thing," I offered. "Don't get me started on that travesty," Kelly hissed. I couldn't help but chuckle. "What?" she insisted. "Twenty years ago you were the most liberal person I've ever met," I said. "You were all about dividing the wealth, sharing the burden." "That's when I had no wealth and a lot of burden," she said with a grimace. "Now that I have some money and less troubles, I sure as hell don't want to share my hard-earned money with some loser who can't or won't get a job. Mike, we were prime candidates for welfare. I know for the first five years of our marriage we qualified for food stamps. But so long as I could afford to feed us on what you made by cutting out some frills in our lives, I was damned sure going to do it. We accepted WIC until you graduated but once you got a job we lived on your salary — even if it meant pork and beans twice a week and no vacations. Now you have people who want it all. "I know this sounds crass but there are some people who simply are unwilling to work for anything. Yes, it pisses me off when I see hospitals — which bring in millions of dollars in profit — raking some poor abused woman over the coals because she can't pay to fix the damage her idiot husband or boyfriend caused. But it also pisses me off to see some of those women at Hope Haven come back there for the third or fourth time because they won't go out and get a job so they can make a clean break of things." "Amen, sister," Carrie chimed in. "God, I got so sick and tired of listening to the whining. How many of those women do you think were abused before they got married? I would bet no woman in that place didn't know what to expect from her husband or boyfriend. I'm almost positive the abuse started well before they moved in together or got married. It was frustrating. I was so glad I met Mike because he was such a sweet guy and so friendly to me. He didn't treat me as a nuisance or a charity case like some of those women there did. I hated that place so much even if Mike had put conditions on living here I would have accepted them." "Ha!" I said. "Now you tell me that. Where was this information when it could have done me some good? I could have been making you shovel the walk every day." "Mike hates winter," Kelly said. "You think?" Elizabeth said. "From October to April I watch him wander in grumbling to himself about Arizona or Tahiti. When he has to scrape the ice and snow off his car at the end of day he gets so pissed off that it melts off the two next to him by the time he finishes. "Which explains why I always park next to you," she added with a grin. "Because I hate snow as much as you do." "We should chuck all this and run away to Mexico together," I said. "Remember, every man I've hooked up with has ended up dead," Elizabeth joked. For someone who had buried five husbands, she took it well. Actually, if I'm honest only two were actually her husband when they died. The other three were ex-husbands when they spent their final day on earth. "Good point," I said. "Good point, indeed," Carrie said through clenched teeth. "If you desert me, she'll outlive you by a long shot." At least she smiled to give everyone else the impression that she was joking. I had the distinct feeling she wasn't. ------- Chapter 19 Carrie snuggled in close to me after Kelly and Elizabeth left. I thought it was extremely nice of Elizabeth to drive Kelly the four blocks to her house after Kelly drank four beers. The last thing any of us needed was a DUI. "Tonight was fun," Carrie said. "Well, most of it. God, it was so nice to have an adult conversation again." "Hey!" I said. "Don't I count as an adult?" I probably shouldn't have bothered to ask. "Marginally," Carrie said with a giggle — as she snuggled even closer to me. "What I meant was that it was nice to sit with friends and just chat. I know this sounds weird but I can see myself being friends with Kelly." I was starting to believe that I might be able to salvage a friendship with my ex-wife as well. "I guess I finally stepped back and noticed some things about Kelly this evening," I admitted. "She's grown up some in the past couple of years. I mean emotionally." "I saw the look on your face when she was talking about some of the things she does for battered women," Carrie said. "It was actually sort of cute. I could see the epiphany develop." "That Elizabeth is a hoot, isn't she?" I asked not so much to change the subject to but redirect it. "She is exactly like you said she was," Carrie told me. "But I can see where she might be considered a dragon lady if you pissed her off." "Oh, yeah," I said in my best Kool-Aid voice. "Which is exactly why I don't piss her off." "So, about the other thing," Carrie mentioned after a few minutes of silence. "Well, as I said, there is no use borrowing trouble," I said. "If you're pregnant then you're pregnant. We'll accept the responsibility like adults and decide how things proceed. I mean, if you want my input at all." "Of course I want your input," Carrie said quickly. "Well, I mean, we've pretty much stayed away from any topic that might cause friction," I answered. "Like politics and religion?" Carrie said with a laugh. "Pretty much the big two," I replied. "So you weren't sure if I was a devout Roe v. Wade disciple that believes you should have no say whatsoever in the decision," she said. "Yep," I answered. "Are you opposed to abortion?" she asked. "I mean, you mentioned that you and Kelly considered it with Kasey. But people's views change markedly over time." "I would guess I am opposed to abortion as a means of birth control," I said after giving it some thought. "Honestly, after we decided to have the baby I have never really given it much thought. It was never a consideration with Mark. We didn't discuss the prospect. Like so many things it doesn't affect me so I've never really needed to form an opinion. Even with Kasey it was dismissed as an option pretty early on." I felt Carrie nodding on my chest. "So if I became pregnant with your child and had an abortion without telling you beforehand, you wouldn't be angry?" she asked. "Of course I would be angry," I said. "But if we had a difference of opinion on the matter, your opinion is the only one that matters. At least legally." "You sound a bit upset by that," she replied. "I guess to a certain extent I am," I said. "I never really thought about it much, to be truthful. But if we were together and you found yourself pregnant, the entirety of the decision is out of my hands. You can choose to have the child — and soak me for child support for 20 years — or you can choose to terminate the pregnancy without so much as informing me of your decision. Hell, if Kasey had a wart on her little toe they would not perform a non-invasive medical procedure without my consent. But if she was older than 14 and pregnant and she wanted an abortion, she could have one without my knowledge or permission. I understand the rationale behind it but it makes being a responsible parent or a responsible partner much harder." "Well, I don't even see the rationale behind it," Carrie said. "I think it is more of protecting the kids against overzealous parents," I replied. "Hell, I don't know. The legislature passed the law and the patient can refuse parental notification. At least they could where we used to live. I'm really not sure here. But do you know that if Kasey gets a headache in school they notify me if they give her an aspirin. It just seems a bit backward." "I can understand an abortion after a rape or if the child was going to have severe birth defects," Carrie said. "But outside of those parameters, I think I'm pretty much against it. I don't think I would ever consider one. But then again, I'm in my 30s and not in my teens. If I got pregnant at 15 or 16, I'm certain that it would have crossed my mind. So, if I am pregnant I can almost guarantee that I'll want to carry it to term. But I would discuss it with you beforehand." "No need for that," I replied. "If you are pregnant and you want to keep it, we'll keep it. Hell, I should have thought of this earlier but it'll lower my child support significantly. With Kasey turning 18 and another baby in the house, Kelly will have to muddle through on 1400 or 1500 a month." "Jesus, Mike," Carrie said. "How much are you paying now?" "A hell of a lot more than that," I groused. "A little less than $3,500 a month. The spousal support ends next year and Kasey comes off next September so it'll drop to about a thousand per month for Mark by this time next year." "So you picked me out to be your Sugar Mama, huh?" she said as she slipped a leg over my midsection. "I had no idea of your net worth when I became enamored by you," I said earnestly. "I fell in love with your wit, grace and charm." "Smooth talker," she said. "It's a shame that I'm so worried about my contraception. But don't worry, I'll know one way or the other by Monday. I'm certain that a portion of your slavery will be sexual." "Only a portion?" I asked. "Rats." "Which leads me to another topic," Carrie said. "Is there anything you find uncomfortable sexually?" "Oh, Jesus," I said. "I probably have a list of hang ups a mile long." "Really?" Carrie asked in a surprised voice. "I mean, I suspect most people do but I doubt many admit it so readily." "Well, you know I do not find watching you pee to be very arousing," I said. "I would suspect that would prove to be the case with your other bodily functions as well. I have desire to be beaten or to beat you. I think a playful slap on the behind while we're in the kitchen is one thing but I don't want to smack your ass while we're rolling around on the bed. "I don't really think I'd be interested in being tied up or in tying you up. I am not interested in swinging or swapping. I am not interested in voyeurism or exhibitionism ... I mean there are times when I might try to look up your dress or something in public but I'm not interested in being caught buck naked in the stairwell of the courthouse." "Wow, you are just a prude," Carrie said. "So you don't think it would be hot for me to give you a handjob while we're sitting in a secluded restaurant or to give you blowjob while you're driving down the interstate?" I pondered the question for a moment. "Actually, that probably would be hot as hell," I replied. "I can imagine slipping my hand up your skirt and trying to get you off while we're at dinner. But I don't think I would want anyone to watch me doing it. I know that sounds oxymoronic — I want to put on a public display where no one can see it — but I think it would bother me more for your sake than mine." "Well, I agree with you about pain," she said. "I mean, it's nice when you pinch my nipple a little hard right as I'm going off but I don't think I'd want to be on all fours and have you smack my ass hard enough to hurt me. I think it might be nice to tie you up and torment you for hours or to be tied up and have you torment me for hours. But I'm not certain. I don't really enjoy the loss of control. As for swinging or swapping, only if you want your dick cut off. And don't even suggest a threesome. I also have no plans to go down on a woman while you watch." "Yeah, I'm not really interested in exploring same-sex relationships," I agreed. "But, like any red-blooded American male, I get hard when I see two women kissing. I can't explain it so I won't even bother to try." "I was about to ask you why men find that so fascinating," Carrie laughed. "But I'm still not doing it. Well, maybe I might kiss a woman for you but I'm not really interested in going down on one." "But you kiss me after I go down on you," I said. "I find that a bit strange." "You kiss me after I've had your dick in my mouth," Carrie stated. "I don't think you're going to be offering blowjobs at the adult movie theater anytime soon." "Good point," I admitted. We laid in companionable silence for a few moments before Carrie spoke again. "I've noticed you like to play with my butt," she said. "Is that something you enjoy?" "Playing with your butt?" I wondered. "Yes, at almost any given time I would like to have my hand on your butt. It is a lovely hiney." "Not like that," she said. "I mean, there have been times when you have paid special attention to my butthole." "I thought I was your butthole," I joked. "You are my external butthole," Carrie said and I could feel her grin against my chest. "Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?" I was surprised to find that it was. "Yeah, I guess it is," I confessed. "I'm not sure why. How about you?" "On a couple of levels," Carrie said as she kissed my shoulder. "I am somewhat mentally uncomfortable talking about some of my foibles. But I become somewhat physically uncomfortable when I picture those very foibles in my head." "Perhaps I can assist you in alleviate some of your physical discomfort," I offered. "Perhaps I could offer the same courtesy to you," Carrie replied. "I have noticed that Mr. Happy is standing up and taking notice." Mr. Happy was very happy by the time we fell asleep. ------- Ah, Saturday. A day of rest, relaxation and recreation — unless you're a parent or a partner. Then the best you can hope for is two out of three. Usually you have to settle for one of three. Sometimes you're simply shit out of luck. But on those rarest of Saturdays everything falls together perfectly and you find yourself lazing around with the Triple Rs. Mark and I enjoyed a perfectly perfect Saturday. It wasn't snowing. The temperature was moderately warm and the sun was shining. Kasey and Carrie — and by extension Kelly — did not get to revel in the Triple Rs. Sunday was New Year's Eve and there were costumes to compile. Kelly agreed to help — perhaps hoping to attend vicariously through the others. Mark and I had nothing to do. In fact we were expressly told — well, I was expressly told — that my participation in the planning and compilation of the costumes was not welcome. Mark, I'm positive, would have been welcomed with open arms. After all, his personality is much nicer than mine and I'm sure his contributions would have been more worthwhile. Instead we were men of leisure, lounging around the house, unshowered, in our sweatpants. Neither of us lifted a finger in labor — unless you count reheating pizza in the microwave. It was just me, my son and whatever activity we chose to keep us entertained. What a glorious day! ------- Chapter 20 Alas, all good things must end. Despite the fact that we did virtually nothing all day, Mark was still ready for bed by 7:30 p.m. Kelly and I agree — gasp — that children require much rest. So Mark, who had to be at kindergarten at 7:50 a.m. each weekday, went to bed by 8 p.m. each night. That allowed him to have at least 10 hours of rest nightly. As he grows older, the bed time will relax until he reaches the age that we feel he is mature enough to set his own. With Kasey, it was 15. With Mark it might be earlier and it might be later. Of course, there are caveats: I do not care if you are awake half the night so long as you fulfill your responsibilities the next day. If you grumble and bitch about having to get up to go to school or to work or to something else you knew was coming the next morning, you are not mature enough to set your own bedtime. I don't mean good-natured whining. Whining of the morning, to a certain degree, is acceptable — and in fact it is quite expected. I mean full-fledged complaints, griping and generally assholishness. Because Kasey sets what time she goes to sleep, I do not wake her of the mornings except as a last resort. She has an alarm clock to wake her. We started to experiment with allowing Kasey to stay up as late as she wanted before she was able to appreciate the ramifications of getting too little rest. It created a host of problems because Kasey's temperament was somewhat unpredictable as a young teenager. That is a nice way of saying that Kasey was a pain in my ass during those 18 or 20 months that I got a daily look at her as those years arrived. Instead of gauging her maturity, Kelly and I set an arbitrary age for extending her privileges and responsibilities. We chose 13 for some ungodly reason and we chose poorly. At 13 Kasey was moody most of the time and downright mean the rest of the time. Why we thought it would be a good time for her to sleep less and work more I will never understand. But I agreed and I thought it was a good idea — at the time. In hindsight, I know it was a horrendous idea. Of course, Kasey took advantage of the situation and began sleeping only four or five hours each night. That, in turn, meant she was a royal bitch of the mornings and the other facets of her life suffered. She would be nearly exhausted by the time she returned from whatever sport she was practicing or playing. Her schoolwork began to suffer and so did the relationship with her peers. I stuck it out for almost a month — hoping beyond hope that Kasey would recognize the contributing factors and make the necessary changes. But she was enjoying the ability to watch TV until 2 a.m. or wait until 11 p.m. to start her homework. So no changes were forthcoming. It came to a head on a Saturday morning. Kasey knew Kelly had plans for them that day but I heard her up and rumbling around the hotel room until the small hours of the morning. She pitched a fit and called to tell her mother that she wasn't going with her wherever Kelly had planned to go. I overheard the conversation and made a snap decision — well, a couple of them, actually. Kasey was going with Kelly that day. I didn't know where it was or what it entailed. I only knew that Kelly had asked if I minded if she borrowed Kasey from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. Because she took the time to ask, I permitted it with limited bitching. I also decided that Kasey's bedtime was 11 p.m. until further notice. She didn't have to go to sleep but she had to be in her room without noise at that time each night — weekends included. When Kelly arrived, I filled her in on what I had decided. Yes, I should have spoken with Kelly about it. Yes, she was pissed off that I had made an arbitrary decision without talking to her. At least she was pissed off until I pointed out a couple of facts — first, Kelly had made perhaps a hundred arbitrary decision regarding the children without even notifying me of them; second, I was Kasey's father and legally entitled to make decisions for the girl. Kasey did not take the news well. I didn't really care and I pointed out that any future decisions regarding her life — from when she could date to when she could drive — would be based on maturity level and not physical age. She would be permitted no privileges until she proved she could handle the responsibilities that came along with them. In that vein it meant she could expect to see the responsibilities increase long before the privileges arrived. For the most part, I have upheld my end of the bargain and so has she. ------- It was almost 8 p.m. when Kasey and Carrie returned to the house, and they had a strange boy in tow. Well, I can't really say he was strange but he certainly was a boy I had never met before. "Dad, this is Cody Everett," Kasey told me. "He will be my escort to the party tomorrow." Cody seemed to want to look everywhere but at me. He was nervous — I've been around enough nervous people to recognize that emotion. I extended my hand and he shook it. His palms were sweaty. I glanced at Kasey who glanced at Carrie. When I shifted my gaze to Carrie she simply shrugged and smiled. "Nice to meet you, Cody," I said. "I'm glad I get to meet the gentleman I'll be spending most of tomorrow with. Because I'm almost positive that these two will abandon us pretty early and only speak to us during lulls in their rounds." Cody seemed to shake his head a little and looked up at me and smiled slightly. "Probably," he said. "Come on in," I said when I released his hand. "Do you want a Coke or something? I'll probably end up making tea for the ladies but I have hot chocolate and other beverages. I'm certain that the Three Amigos made certain you were fed." "Uh, yes sir," he said softly. "A cup of tea would be fine if you're fixing it anyway. Don't go to any trouble." "No trouble, Cody," I assured him. "It's no trouble to fix anything you might want — if I have it. My pantry is a little sparse since I live alone most of the time." Cody's eyes shifted from mine to Kasey and then to Carrie. "Well, I probably would like hot chocolate more," he said. When we walked into the living room, Kasey and Cody took a seat — on opposite items of furniture — and Carrie followed me into the kitchen. "So what's his story?" I wondered quietly while I put the tea kettle on. "He's awfully nervous." "Of course he is," Carrie said as she punched me slightly on the arm. "He just moved here last summer. He and Kasey have a couple of classes together and he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out just before Christmas Break. But during the past five months or so he's heard horror stories about having to meet Kasey's father before going out with her. I think some of them took on a life of their own in the retelling." "Probably not," I answered. "There were a couple of boys she brought around during the summer that I truly disliked immediately. I did my best to make them as uncomfortable as I could. With one I went to great lengths to point out clearly that I knew far more about him that what he probably wanted me to know." "How did you manage that?" Carrie asked. "Luck," I said with a shrug. "It's how I accomplish most things — pure, dumb luck. The boy Kasey brought home had dated one of my friend's daughters. He played on the basketball team and Sharon — the girl's mom — came by to see if we had any pictures of him. Then right after prom, he dumped the girl. I suppose you can say he got what he wanted and then left. Of course there were rumors started and other things regarding the girl. I recognized the name as soon as Kasey mentioned it and I tormented the boy — and I let him know that he doesn't exist in a vacuum. His actions have consequences and that if he hurt Kasey I would make certain that whatever portion of his life remained in this town would be somewhat desolate." Carrie smiled sweetly at me. "Somehow I think you were more subtle than that otherwise Kasey would have been royally pissed off," she said. "I was a little more subtle," I admitted. "But not to Kasey. When I set her curfew at 10 p.m. she shot me a fairly hostile glare. But she knew she had better be in the house by 10 p.m., too. I explained what I knew of the guy and why I didn't think a second date was warranted. She made a face at me — because I'm certain she had heard the rumors and that she had disregarded them. But I noticed that she didn't date the guy again and that she still brings her dates home for me to meet." Cody seemed like a nice enough guy. He was planning to study chemistry in college and he hoped to go into the research field or attend pharmacy school. His mother was a chemistry teacher at the high school and he looked up to her — even if he didn't know it. I found him to be a perfectly acceptable date for my daughter — which meant New Year's Eve would likely be the last time I saw the kid. Oh well, win some, lose some. "So, what are the costumes?" I asked. "Anthony and Cleopatra," Kasey said. I glanced at Carrie who nodded. "This body is not meant for a toga," I said. "And these legs are not meant for a skirt." "That's what we're going as," Kasey said. Cody blushed. His body was too lean and lanky for the costume, too, and I think he knew it. "We're going as a mermaid and a swimmer," Carrie said. "Your costume is actually much smaller." Pain must have flared on my face because the whole room — Cody included, damn him — burst into laughter. "Knowing your love of history," Carrie said. "I thought that something along those lines was appropriate. Since the most original costume wins a prize or something, I chose Maj. General Winfield Scott Hancock and his wife, Almira." "Hey, it was my idea," Kasey huffed. "Actually it was Kasey's idea about Hancock," Carrie corrected. "I had the idea of a Civil War soldier and a Southern Belle but she came up with Scott and Almira Hancock off the top of her head." "I did a report on him in fourth or fifth grade," Kasey said. "You and he sound an awful lot alike. He was a brilliant man who managed to succeed in whatever he tried. He went from lieutenant to general in almost no time. But he was also a politician who ran for president in the 1880s." "And Almira was widely regarded as beautiful and gracious," I added. "Don't forget that. She was at home on an Army base or in high society." "She was called the perfect soldier's wife," Kasey put in. "She followed him from the wilds of the frontier to his career in politics." I chuckled and Carrie cast her gaze upon me. "What?" she said. "Is there something about her that I should know? After all, I'm pretending to be her tomorrow night." "No, nothing bad," I said. "She left him in the end. That's why I chuckled." "She did not," Kasey said hotly. "Well, she didn't follow him to the end," I corrected. "They were married for 40 some years but they are buried a thousand miles apart. She outlived him and chose to be buried in her family plot in Missouri. He is buried in Pennsylvania. Historians have pondered that incongruity for almost a century." "No way," Kasey said. "Way," I answered. "I don't believe you," Carrie said. "From what I read today about her — and about him — I think you're wrong." I saw Kasey grimace. "Don't do that, Carrie," Kasey said. "I've learned the hard way. He doesn't state facts unless he's sure of them. I know what he's going to say next." "What?" Carrie asked. Kasey and I exchanged small glances and smiles. "You could look it up," we said in unison. Carrie glanced from Kasey to me — and even at Cody — before heading off the Internet. "She'll learn," Kasey said. "Ha," I told them. "Your mother never did. And even when she knew I was right she would still argue about it." "That's mom's way," Kasey announced. "She's never wrong. Haven't you figured that out yet?" I looked over at Cody who had watched the byplay with interest. "It is a female thing," I told him. "You can have all the facts on your side and you're still wrong. It's best if you simply accept that as the gospel and move on." He smiled at me. "I figured that out with my Mom," he said. "Why let the facts stand in the way of a good argument? I have perfected the words, 'Yes, Mother.' It just makes the world go smoother." "When you get a long-term girlfriend or a wife, substitute 'Dear' for 'Mother' and you're well on your way to a happy relationship," I added. Cody and I laughed. Not surprisingly Kasey didn't find us amusing. "And when you have a daughter, substitute the word 'No' for 'Yes' and you're well on your way to being a successful father," I joked. Kasey stuck out her tongue and went to join Carrie at the computer. "Were you telling the truth about Hancock's wife?" Cody asked when she had gone. "As I know it," I told him. "It really would serve no purpose to make up something like that. The only thing that would happen is if they found out I was making it up they wouldn't believe me the next time I was telling them the truth. And it might be about something far more important than a women who has been dead for a hundred years." Cody nodded his appreciation for what I was saying. Still, I went further. "Sometimes a person's honesty is all he or she has," I continued. "Do you know until very recently it was possible, in an area like this for a person to go into a bank and borrow money simply on his word? People who had a reputation for honesty and integrity could walk in, talk to a lender and get a check just by promising to pay it back. Of course, banks were smaller then and more localized. They were more about ensuring the viability of a community than the viability of themselves. At least that is the way it always seemed to me." "You're kidding, right?" Cody asked. "Last year I wanted to buy a car. I had some money my grandparents left me and I get Dad's Social Security so I had some money I could access to pay the loan back. They wouldn't even talk to me. Even when Mom agreed to co-sign the loan they wouldn't do it. I finally wound up just paying cash for the car. I wanted to establish my credit worthiness early. But the banks would have no part of it." "First off, I'm not kidding," I assured the young man in front of me. "If you had been 16 when I was, and you had a viable way to pay a loan back, you would have gotten one. If your Mom was willing to co-sign it would have been a snap. But banks learned — really in the last 20 years or so — that not everyone is trustworthy. Still, your word counts for a lot among those who know you. It also counts for a lot among those you are hoping to get to know. The hardest part is realizing that some things are too trivial to lie about and other things are too important to lie about. It's a slippery slope." I saw a light go on in Cody's head about the same time Kasey and Carrie re-entered the room. "I can't believe she wasn't buried beside her husband," Carrie said with a touch of sadness in her voice. "Well, consider that Hancock was almost destitute when he died," I replied. "Then she lived for another 10 or 12 years afterward — mostly relying on charity from their friends. It probably shouldn't be much of a surprise that some of the luster of his life faded by that point." Carrie and Kasey exchanged a glance and a giggle. "I told you he would have a theory," Kasey said. "He always can come up with a rational explanation for anything." I shook my head. "It is equally as likely that this was always the plan," I said. "It might have been known from the outset that she would be buried with her family. Perhaps the general chose to be buried elsewhere. So far as I know — and I've never really researched this but I have read numerous biographies — there is no definitive answer to the question of why one is buried in Pennsylvania and the other in Missouri." "Did she die in Missouri?" Kasey wondered. "I don't think so," I replied. "Perhaps. But from my recollection she lived in New York. I've read some of her writings about the general and his life. They are somewhat interesting. So, what is my costume?" "Duh," Kasey said. "OK, where did you come up with my costume?" I tried. "You'll never guess," Carrie told me. "Because I won't try," I replied. "You suck," Carrie informed with me a grin. I shot a glance to the kids in the room. "My grandmother has an authentic Union uniform from the Civil War," Kasey said. "She is bringing it up tomorrow morning." "Yikes!" I said. "That is probably not a great idea, folks." Both Kasey and Carrie looked aghast. "Those things are hot and itchy," I said. "Additionally, the uniform is probably worth thousands of dollars. Where did your grandmother acquire this?" "At an auction, if you can believe it," Carrie stated. "She and her husband bought a whole room full of stuff and it was in there. It even has weapons but we're leaving them behind. There is a saber to wear with it. But I guess they would be hot. She said it was woolen — and she also said she has had it authenticated." "Don't tell me she has a toga for Cody to wear too," I said. "No but we put together something pretty realistic for both of them," Carrie told me. "And I will look like the height of 1850s fashion when I walk in. The uniform is that of a lieutenant so we're going as Scott and Almira Hancock when they first wed." "And we're going to be Anthony and Cleopatra when they first started dating," Kasey joked. "Just make sure you behave yourself or it'll be your asp," I joked. I was greeted by a round of boos. ------- The house was filled with energy on New Year's Eve. Even Mark was buzzing about but I don't really think he knew why. Still he was having fun and that is all that mattered to me. He and I were smarter than the average male — we went outside to build a snowman. It was far from a work of art but you tell what it was when we were finished. After our snowman, Mark and I spent the remainder of the afternoon playing with his new racetrack. I had a wonderful New Year's Eve before the festivities even got started. Kelly had come over to make sure everything fit Kasey and Carrie just so. Cody and I were going to be left with straight pins and adhesive tape for alterations. Somehow I think we got the better deal. I had done my best to secure an invitation for Kelly to attended the party but I simply couldn't come up with a way for her to go. I knew it would be a delayed Christmas present she would really enjoy. I hadn't mentioned my effort for numerous reasons, but I was surprised myself when I realized the primary one was to keep Kelly from being disappointed if (or more likely when) I failed. Still, she gave me a gentle hug and a soft kiss on the cheek when she and Mark left and she thanked me for trying to get her in, so I guess Kasey or Carrie had spilled the beans. "Next year," I promised. "I'll find a way to get you there next year if you don't already have a way yourself." "You really are a good man, Mike Cavenaugh," Kelly said. My ex-wife and I didn't exchange compliments. We rarely exchanged compliments when she was my wife. If we did say something nice to the other, it was more in a back-handed fashion — such as "Your ass doesn't look nearly as fat in those pants as it does in the black ones," or "Well, this room doesn't look anything like I thought it would when you finished but at least it didn't turn out like the kitchen you remodeled." I think Kelly was surprised when I patted her softly on the back and told her that I thought she deserved to be happy and I hoped she found it. I think I was surprised when I meant it. ------- Chapter 21 The Humane Society New Year's Eve festivities were a replay of the Chamber of Commerce Holiday Ball — only less stodgy. Many of the same people were there but they were all relaxed. Some of the costumes were shocking. I had expected the usual suspects — Frankenstein's monster, Marilyn Monroe, a vampire, a mummy. Instead I saw women dressed as teenaged singers — complete with the schoolgirl miniskirt — and men dressed in only loin clothes and one who seemed to be impersonating the cowboy from the Village People. Kasey and Carrie each looked beautiful. My little girl was turning into a beautiful young woman — and she was turning into a beautiful young woman very quickly. Carrie was simply stunning. She had somehow found a way to push her breasts upward and they looked huge. I was glad I carried a sword because I was certain that I would need it before the night was over. It was a shock to my system when it was Carrie and Kasey who wound up jealous — and looking to brawl. It started innocently enough — I guess. The women were off holding court with a slew of new-found friends and admirers. Cody and I were sitting at our table, innocently sipping our ginger ale cocktails and watching the goings on. It was an eclectic mix of people at the event — local politicians and business leaders were side by side with teenaged Humane Society volunteers. A girl stopped by our table and asked Cody if he would like to dance with her. She and Cody appeared to know one another but he glanced at me for some reason. I shrugged my shoulders because I didn't know if he wanted to dance with the girl or not. Upon reflection I understand Cody's questioning look. At the time, however, I did not. I am, after all, simply a man. It did not occur to me that an innocent dance with a classmate could have such far-reaching implications. I am certain that Cody didn't either. He accepted and the two wandered into the next room where some techno-punk-hip hop music was playing. A few minutes later, Cody returned, slightly sweaty but smiling. That probably would have been the end of it except the girl returned a few minutes later — with a woman I assumed was her mother and asked to join us. She and Cody started to have a conversation about school and a class they shared and the woman, who told me that she was the girl's aunt, and I made small talk. After a few minutes, Cody and the girl, Shelly, wandered back into the dance area and I was left with Gail, the aunt. It was innocent. She worked as a graphic designer for a local firm that I knew fairly well so we were joking about this and that when Carrie and Kasey came back to the table. I would guess that Cody and I had been an afterthought for the better part of 45 minutes, with neither of us even garnering a passing glace for the last 15 minutes. I saw Carrie offer a quick whisper to Kasey about something then both turned to look at me — and by extension, Gail. "Hey," I said cheerfully. "Are the masses sufficiently wowed?" I turned to Gail and introduced Kasey and Carrie as "my daughter" and "my date." It was obvious to me that I had made a serious error in judgment as soon as the pair sat down. "Where is Cody?" Kasey asked while looking around the room. "He's dancing with Gail's niece," I replied. "Shelly, I think. She goes to school with you guys." The look on Kasey's face almost made me break out in laughter. At least until I noticed the exact same expression on Carrie's face. Gail decided it was time to make a strategic withdrawal and left me alone with a pair of thunderclouds on either side of me. It took only a brief moment for my common sense to kick in. Inwardly, I chuckled. Outwardly, I sighed. "Why are you two so pissed off?" I asked. "Why is Cody dancing with another girl?" Kasey asked in a heated tone. "Because the girl he came with wondered away an hour ago and hasn't paid a moment's notice to him since we got here," I said firmly. "The boy has done nothing wrong. Shelly came over and asked him to go dance. He was gone for a few minutes and came back. Shelly and Gail came over again a few minutes later and he and Shelly went to the other room a little before you two came back." Carrie and Kasey both were glaring at me when poor dumb Cody came walking back. If the kid had the sense God gave to a goose he would have been neither seen nor heard for 10 more minutes. Instead he plopped down and wiped the sweat off his brow. It took him a moment to notice that the glares had shifted from me to him. He glanced my way and I just shrugged. "Why don't you go get everyone a soda, Cody," I suggested. He nodded and very politely asked everyone what they wanted. He simply didn't have a clue in the world. When he was gone, I turned to the ladies. "See, he doesn't have a guilty conscience," I said with a laugh. "He danced a couple of dances with a friend and then came back over to his date." My remark did nothing to mollify my tablemates. "So you think we should have guilty consciences?" Carrie asked. "No," I replied. "I don't think anyone has done anything to feel uncomfortable about." "What about Gail?" Kasey asked. "And Shelly?" "What about them?" I wondered. "You and Cody obviously know Shelly. I am familiar with the company Gail works for and she is familiar with many of the people who work for me. We were sitting here chatting. Just like you two were doing wherever you were. Listen, Shelly and Gail sat her for 15 or 20 minutes. You two obviously didn't even glance this way during that time. It is not like anyone snuck off to a motel room, for Christ's sake. So knock this shit off or we'll all go home. Or at least Kasey, Cody and I will. Carrie is old enough to decide for herself." "You introduced me as your date," Carrie said in a voice that was half miffed and half hurt. "I didn't want to presume anything," I replied. "I don't know how you consider yourself. I didn't know if it would piss you off if I called my girlfriend, my housemate, my whatever. I decided to stick with the facts. You are my date this evening. At least I think you are." "Of course I am," she said quickly. "It just seemed to me that you did that so Gail didn't get the impression that we are serious. So you didn't close the door on anything." "The door was never open," I said. "You two are imagining things that simply aren't true. Maybe I should start acting as though you only came with me so you could get an in with the community." "That's ridiculous," Carrie said. "It is ridiculous," I confirmed. "That is my point. You're acting as if Gail and I had an assignation instead of few minutes of conversation." I turned to Kasey. "And you're acting as though Cody is supposed to sit here with me — a person who you know has very limited social skills — while you play Queen of the Ball," I said. "You're both being silly and childish." Both Kasey and Carrie sat back with shocked looks on their faces. "Now," I continued, "the point of this evening was for everyone to have fun. You two appeared to be having a good time making the rounds. I was having a good time sitting here joking with Gail about people we knew. Cody was having a good time talking about classes and dancing with Shelly. We all know who we came with and I assume we all know who we're leaving with. So quit being so jealous. Or if you can't stop being jealous at least make an effort to include your date in what you're doing." I could see Cody coming back with a tray of drinks so I stood up to help him. He sat down in his seat and started to talk to Kasey about some of the other people from their school that he had seen while getting sodas. He was so guileless that I had to turn to Carrie and wink. I could see she was still angry but she could tell that Cody didn't believe for a second that he or anyone had behaved badly. In the end, she broke out in giggles. "For the record, I am — at the very least — your girlfriend," she whispered in my ear. "Duly noted," I replied in a soft tone. "I honestly was trying not to offend you. Gail asked who I was here with and I immediately pointed you out. Shelly volunteers here and she asked her aunt to accompany her tonight. I didn't want you to get upset if I described you as something that made you uncomfortable. Face it, I was in a no-win situation." Carrie actually seemed to relax — at least she smiled at me. "Get used to it," she whispered. "At least you didn't describe me as your sex-toy or hump-bunny." "I'd already told her about all that before you two got back," I answered. I noticed Kasey had scooted her chair closer to Cody. I think the fact he just played the whole thing off as a non-issue had taken him completely off the radar. He either completely ignored the look of jealousy on Kasey's face or her didn't recognize it for what it was. Either way, he was off the hook before he was even on the hook. There is also the slight possibility that he was a hell of a lot smarter than I gave him credit for. He and Kasey wandered back into the area set up for dancing. Carrie kept urging me to go with her there, too. But I had a couple of problems. First off, the music they were playing grated on my ears. It was only 8:30 p.m. so I hoped the thumping bass would change to something softer before too long. My second problem was my costume. The uniform was heavy wool. Having been raised in the spun cotton and linen era, my body simply could not handle have wool against it. So I had on sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt beneath my costume. I honestly thought that if I spent much time moving around or in proximity to a group of people that I might spontaneously combust. So I promised to dance with Carrie just as soon as the music slowed down. But I made it a point to tell her that I wouldn't be upset if she danced with others. "Yes you would be," she chided. "Hey, I saw your group of hangers-on," I stated. "A couple of them stood beside you for 10 minutes or more and still couldn't tell me if you had eyes." "That puffed up toad and his son," Carrie replied. "That is Drake Cameron and his son, Dane," I offered. "As I'm sure he let you know, he is the district attorney." "Oh yes," she told me. "More than once did he mention that. I asked him pretty pointedly why he didn't fight extradition back to Malden. He really had no answers. I asked him why Lemons wasn't charged with assault here, too. Because the bruises on my ribs came from where we stopped here. He had no answers for that either." I chuckled. "See, I'm sure he left this part out," I said. "Cameron is the Interim Assistant District Attorney. Both the DA and ADA quit a few months back after a dispute with the county commission over something or another. Cameron is essentially a low-grade ambulance chaser who got appointed over the wishes of, well, just about everybody. No one who works for him will do what he says or tell him anything because he doesn't have the power to do anything to them. There is a special election in January to elect his successor. But the old DA pretty much convinced everyone to stay out of the race. So Cameron and some woman I've never met or heard of are the only two running. It should be an interesting couple of years for law and order in this county." "Great, another Malden," Carrie huffed. "Not really," I said. "Cameron is a douche. Make no mistake about it. But I think he really tries. Once he is duly elected and can hire and fire as he pleases, it might get better. That's the problem with attorneys. Very few of them are able to delay gratification. They are an extremely short-sighted lot. They don't look at anything past what they can get now." "I agree with you on that one," Carrie said. "It could be interesting." "Or it could be a disaster," I mentioned. About that time Kasey and Cody returned so our conversation turned more mundane — after I got one more dig in. "You're lucky Cody is an easy-going kind of guy," I told Kasey when they sat down. Cody just looked at me blankly but Kasey's gaze was less-than-hostile but more-than-perturbed. "Dane Cameron might have ended up on his butt wondering how he got there if Cody was possessive." "Ha!" Kasey said. "I actually told the douche-nozzle that my eyes were up here. Then I laughed in his face and told him he needed to spend some time in the rookie leagues before he tried to land in the bigs. He didn't understand the reference at all. What a dolt." Cody looked pretty proud of his date's comeback. "The dancing is going to move to the old folks tunes in a bit," Kasey informed us. "Now that all the networking and power brokering is completed there is no need to keep us kiddies out of the way." "I'm still of the opinion that children should be seen and not heard," I mentioned casually — with a smile. "And a lot of the time I could do without the seen part. Maybe Cameron has the right idea. I should have shipped you off to private school when you 5." "Fat chance," Kasey huffed. "Can you see me hanging out with the Muffet Bradleys of the world?" she asked Cody. The boys face lit up into a huge smile and he laughed out loud. "Muffet is the self-appointed queen of the school," he said. "Kasey absolutely abuses that girl verbally but Muffet and her friends have no idea that she's being dissed. It is really something to watch." "That's why I can't believe you were dancing with Shelly," Kasey said. There was a hint of irritation in her voice. "You mean that little mousy girl with glasses is part of the power clique?" I wondered. "She is like the social secretary of the group," Kasey replied. "Hmm," I said to no one in particular. "She's not like that when she is away from them," Cody insisted. "I have calculus with her. She's really funny and really friendly. Watch her next time you rip Muffet down. She is the only one who gets what you're doing. Besides, there must be 50 kids from our school here. So far I've been seen dividing my time between the prettiest girl at school and one of the inner circle. My stock is through the roof." Carrie and I could see that Cody was joking — about everything except the prettiest girl in school part, I thought — so Carrie put her hand on Kasey's arm before my daughter could speak. It was interesting that Carrie, in only a short time, had come to recognize the signs of an imminent explosion. It was also interesting that Kasey relaxed almost instantly as if it were some pre-arranged signal for her to keep her mouth shut and think about things for a second. "Well, I guess there is that," Kasey said with a smirk. "God knows your stock could use a boost. And then I get to claim that it was my influence that led to your transformation from über-dork to stud." "I get to claim the same thing with your father," Carrie noted with a grin. "It's good for our egos." Cody and I looked at one another briefly. We both had the same thing on our mind. Luckily, I think for me, Cody beat me to the punch. "Which is exactly the last thing we need," he said. ------- The music finally softened in the other room and the four of us adjourned to that location. I am not much of a dancer. I know a few traditional steps — that my ex-mother-in-law insisted I learn before the wedding almost two decades before. But I knew no contemporary dances. Carrie didn't seem to mind. We stayed in character and danced chastely for a while. Then we switched partners with Kasey and Cody. Cody, poor boy, couldn't decide where to keep his eyes. He tried valiantly to keep from glancing downward at Carrie's creamy décolletage but it was a fight he couldn't win. Carrie did not have enormous breasts but she seemed to have far more tonight than I'd ever seen on her before. All that she had was pushed up into a low-cut 1840s-style gown and a lot of it was visible — and visibly wonderful. She stood far enough away from Cody that it wasn't pressed up against him but just close enough that a glance down gave him an exciting view. I shook my head in sympathy for the young man. Kasey had no formal dance training so she danced as most teens do. She wrapped her arms around my neck and put her body as close to mine as she could. Kasey was dressed in a long linen dress that hugged curves I didn't realize she owned. It was cut off one shoulder and a hint of cleavage that I was almost certain she borrowed from someone was evident. Kasey was just a little bit taller than Carrie and she seemed intent on wrapping as much of her body as she could around me. At least until she laid her head on my woolen suit coat. Then she was more than interested in being more demure. I was thankful because it gave me a chance to talk with her. "Are you having fun, Shortstuff?" I asked. "Yeah," she said. "It's not exactly what I figured it would be. But it's nice to hang out with you guys." "And Cody?" I asked. I saw my little girl blush. "He's nice, too," she answered reluctantly. "Nicer than what I expected. I asked him because we're like buds, you know. He lives with his mom and he doesn't go out very often. I also knew he would be acceptable to you because his mom did a good job of raising him. He's sweet and funny and far more responsible than most kids I know." "I thought it was funny to see you get jealous," I whispered. "I also see that you've put everyone else on notice." Kasey looked up at me — not a mean feat because she was only 3 or 4 inches shorter than me. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I mean that you have pretty much held his hand or his arm since you walked back to the table," I said. "Every girl in here knows that he is your date. Well, everyone except for Carrie who seems to be tormenting him with glances down the front of her gown." As expected, Kasey's head jerked around to look. She turned to face me with a guilty expression. "Fine, you got me," she said. I kissed her softly on the forehead. "I do got you," I told her. "I hope you know that you are one of my two favorite people in the world and my absolute favorite female. As much as I like Carrie I would never allow her to do something that would hurt you if I could stop it." "She'd never do that anyway," Kasey insisted. "Daddy, I know it's only been a little while but I love her. She is so easy to talk to and she is so fun to be around. She is like a female version of you. I hope you two stay together forever." "That would be nice," I answered. "But we've only known each other a short time. Sure, we've spent a lot of time getting to know the other. But there is still a lot to learn before we can decide on what's next. Right now, we're just enjoying the moment. There will be time to plan to future — if there is a future — later on." "I know, Dad," Kasey said as she moved closer and put her head on my shoulder. "It's just nice to know you're happy and that you have someone to look out for you." We gathered around together as the clock ticked down toward midnight. Carrie had been imbibing a little, not enough to be drunk but enough to be pleasantly buzzed. The rest of us had refrained entirely. At midnight I permitted Kasey and Cody to have one glass of champagne but neither of them drank more than one sip before making a face and putting the flute back on the table. I took a sip out of my glass, too — then proceeded to do the same thing as Kasey and Cody had. Carrie and I exchanged New Year's kisses — and Carrie slipped a hint of tongue into the mix. Cody's eyes almost popped out when Kasey kissed him softly, then not-so-softly. I thought the young man might go blind when Carrie took his face in her hands and gave him a kiss right after. Of course that meant Kasey came out to give me one, which was nice. At least she didn't try to slip me the tongue but the mirth in her eyes when she pulled back let me know that she might have considered it. "Why don't you call your Mom and wish her a Happy New Year," I suggested. Kasey fished out her phone and called Kelly. "Cody about had a coronary when I pinched his butt," Carrie said in the whisper that passes for quiet with someone who had been drinking. She was loud enough that Kasey heard it. "Well, I was going to French your date but decided against it," Kasey told her. "Hmm," Carrie answered. "Too bad, because I decided to French your date. If I were 20 years younger he would be my first choice." Then she stuck her tongue out at Kasey as if to prove it. ------- Chapter 22 The ride to drop Cody off was relative quiet. I heard giggles and snickering from the backseat and Carrie — who had finished off the champagne that Kasey, Cody and I had left on the table — was smiling dreamily (or perhaps drunkenly) at me. I saw her glance downward at her dress and, like a fool, my gaze followed hers. She had lowered the bodice of her gown completely and her breasts were visible when she opened her coat. I smiled at the sight. "You have some serious kinks," I whispered. Carrie beamed and closed her top coat. "You know I do," she said. "Wait until tomorrow." There was a pause. "Or actually, you don't have to wait," she said softly. "It is now tomorrow or today. Or, you know what I mean. I own you, Mister." She giggled then repeated the last sentence to herself. We dropped Cody off and the conversation came alive. "I can't believe you French kissed my date," Kasey huffed. "I didn't actually French him," Carrie claimed. "I just sort of, you know, ran my tongue over his lip. It was harmless." "If he asks me for your phone number I'll be very upset," Kasey said. I couldn't tell if she was angry or just pretending. "I'm the one that should be pissed," I said. "After all, it was my date that did that to your date." "I only did it because I figured Kasey would be sticking her tongue in your mouth," Carrie said. "Ooh," Kasey groaned. "He's my Dad!" "So?" Carrie said. "I saw all the times you've shaken your butt at him and he told me about the peep show you gave him last week. I figured a little open-mouth kissing was next." I could almost see the heat coming off Kasey's cheeks. "The 'peep show' was an accident," she insisted. "An accident that you did nothing to correct," Carrie told her. "Besides, I was just teasing Cody. He is a nice guy and I was having fun. I didn't mean to hurt you or to cause you problems. I apologize if I made you angry." "I wasn't really mad," Kasey said. "I was just, well, I don't know what I was. Shocked, maybe. It was unexpected." Carrie turned around in her seat — well, as much as she could with the seatbelt and whatever foundation garments she was wearing. "Truce then?" Carrie asked. "You stop flashing my boyfriend and I'll stop teasing yours." "I guess," Kasey mumbled. "But Dad is bound to see me less than dressed occasionally. I mean, we live right across the hall from each other. I don't want you to get all grabby with Cody if Dad happens to see me in my bra or something." "So, Cody is your boyfriend now?" I asked. Kasey was silent. "Maybe," she said. "I'd like him to be. He's really nice and he treats me really well. I've met his Mom a couple of times and she is terrific. She's a lot older than you are but she's really sweet. I guess I'll have to see if he calls me to ask me out." "Why?" I wondered. "Why what?" Kasey asked. "Why do you have to wait for him?" I said. "Why don't you call him and ask him out? I assume you called him to see if he would go with you tonight." "Well, I think Mom would shit," Kasey said. "Sorry, Dad, it slipped. I think Mom would be unhappy if I asked a boy out. At least that's the impression I get from her." "Ask her and see," Carrie offered. "Or don't ask her and just do it," I suggested as I pulled into the driveway to drop off Kasey at her mother's house. "Call him as a friend and if things go well, see if he would like to do something next weekend. Or talk to him at school Wednesday." "What if he says he doesn't want to go out with me?" Kasey asked. "Then he is not as smart as I think he is," I replied. "And why is it the boy who has to do the asking? Why does the boy have to put his self-esteem on the line to get a date? Women want equal rights. Well, that includes an equal chance at rejection. But I don't foresee rejection in your future." "Now or ever," Carrie agreed. "K, you're one of the best people your age I've ever met. I can't ever see a boy or man saying no to you." Kasey smiled and leaned forward to kiss Carrie on the cheek. She stopped halfway. "Jesus, your boobs are hanging out!" my daughter exclaimed. "I hope to God you had those put away when you were making out with my boyfriend." "Barely concealed but still on display," Carrie said with raised eyebrows. "Actually, the view was just for my date's benefit." "Gross!" Kasey said. "I do not want to know what you do with my father!" Still, Kasey leaned forward and kissed Carrie on the cheek. Then she grabbed my face, turned my head and stuck her tongue halfway down my throat. "There, we're even," she said with a smirk as she opened the back door. "I grabbed Cody's butt, too," Carrie said quickly before the door closed. "So I'm still one up on you. See you later in the week." I watched as Kasey walked to her mom's door shaking her head all the way. I waited in the drive until she was safely inside and then drove home to meet my fate as Carrie's slave. ------- "I have big plans for you," Carrie whispered as we neared my house. "OK," I said. "But first ... this stuff with Kasey has to stop. Immediately. It has long ceased to be humorous." "You're right," Carrie admitted. "And I'm sorry. I was trying so hard to be funny and cool that I pushed things farther than I meant to. I'll talk to her either today or tomorrow and set things straight." I nodded my agreement. "Are you really pissed off at me?" Carrie wondered. "I think pissed off is too strong a term," I answered. "I agree that things got out of hand and I'm glad you recognize it. I hope you realize how much influence you have on Kasey." "I do," Carrie said solemnly. "I don't think so," I disagreed. "But I hope that you'll take a few minutes to realize that in just a few days she has come to look up to you and respect you. You're like the cool parent. All the kids want to hang out at that house. Kasey might be 17 but in some ways she's never really had a female presence she looks up — until now. If that's more responsibility than you want we need to figure that out sooner rather than later." "What do you mean sooner rather than later?" Carrie asked. "Pretty straightforward," I replied. "If you are uncomfortable with the situation that Kasey and I have put you in, I would rather know it now." "What are you talking about?" Carrie asked. "Yeah, Kasey looks up to me. I understand it and I'm OK with it." "Looks up to?" I asked. "Try idolizes and emulates. Carrie, every move you make will be dissected and analyzed and accepted. For example, if you smoked, which I know you do not do very often, Kasey would find it acceptable to smoke. If you spoke Portuguese, Kasey would be taking lessons. Big things, small things, all things, Carrie — if the relationship you have with Kasey develops the way it has started you will be one of the few people whose opinion my daughter will respect. Your actions will be one of the deciding factors when she decides what is right and wrong — probably more so then my words or deeds or her mother's." I really didn't mean to turn this into a lecture session. But, at the same time, I doubted the Carrie had ever found herself in this situation before. I know it sure as hell snuck up on me — and I had a dozen years of being Kasey's dad before I figured it out. "So I'm not allowed to do certain things anymore?" Carrie asked. I could tell she was getting angry and I didn't want that. "And if I do them you won't let me be Kasey's friend any longer." "Not at all," I said softly. "I won't do that, sweetheart. I won't say that and if you see that I'm starting to think that way, please tell me. I'm a guy, Carrie. I don't use semantics or innuendo and ask you to figure out what I mean. I simply say it. So, here it is. What I'm saying is that the relationship you have with Kasey is yours and hers to decide, so long as it is healthy. You are setting things up so that you are going to be her friend and her confidante. I'm OK with that, if that is what you both want. But if the relationship you develop is unhealthy or leads Kasey to make unhealthy choices — in my opinion — I will err on the side of Kasey's safety every time." I had pulled into the driveway by this point but I had maintained eye contact with my garage door until I finished speaking. I knew this was a potential tipping point of my relationship with Carrie. But I couldn't allow that to affect my judgment when it came to my daughter. "And she wouldn't have done some of the things she's done in the last few days if I hadn't been there to goad her or prompt her," Carrie said. I couldn't tell if there was resignation in her voice or some other emotion. "That includes the good things she's done, hon," I said as I put my hand on hers. I was gratified that Carrie didn't flinch or pull away from my contact. "The last 10 days have been a whirlwind for you, me and her. For all the people who know me. Kasey wants desperately to make a good impression on you. She wants you to like her — for my sake as much for hers. You have had an overall positive effect on her. Please don't think that I'm saying that you haven't. But tonight was too far over the line for me not to say something." Carrie wrapped her hand around mine and held it tightly. "I'm sorry," she said with a catch in her voice. "I got so caught up in being a cool friend to her that I didn't stop to think about much of anything else. It was like I was the sorority queen in college and she was my pledge. I pushed her and pushed until I put her outside her comfort zone." "Maybe," I said. "Mostly you pushed her outside my comfort zone and I was there to watch. Kasey might not be uncomfortable with the flirting and overt displays of affection. But I am and I know they were much more reserved until you upped the ante. That's what I'm saying." "Do you think everyone is still up?" Carrie asked. "Well, seeing how it's been all of 7 minutes since we dropped her off, I would suspect that she is," I replied. "You might call her cell phone so you don't wake Mark. I doubt he is still running the streets." ------- We wandered into the house. Carrie was somewhat surprised that her boobs were hanging out her dress — and not altogether pleased with the situation when the cold January wind landed on them. She slipped into my office to call Kasey and I slipped upstairs to take a shower. Carrie had changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt when I came downstairs. "Thanks for waiting until we were alone," Carrie said. "I'm not sure I would have been able. I'm not sure I wouldn't have gotten angry and stayed angry. I probably would have ruined the whole night. That's what I do when I get mad. I'm not as rational as you are. I guess I should get that out of the way now. I get mad and I remember every time you pissed me off in the past year. It's sort of a cumulative effect." I laughed aloud. "I've always said that women keep a fruit cellar of slights — real and imagined — in the back of their heads," I replied. "When they lose their tempers, they just reach back and grabbed the first thing handy and toss it out. It might have nothing to do with what angered her this time or it might have happened 5 years before but still she finds it acceptable. There is no expiration date on the things in storage." "Maybe," Carrie said. "I figured you would meet me in the shower or be waiting for me in bed," I said. "Or maybe hoped is a better word." "I wanted to speak to you for a few minutes, seriously, before we start our fun and games," Carrie said. I groaned dramatically. "I drank too much tonight," she said. "I don't usually do that and there is no reason that I did tonight." "Other than what you've been going through for the past few weeks," I interrupted. "You certainly deserved to be able to let your hair down and relax. Carrie, I don't want you to think I've forgotten or dismissed how and why we met." "I know you haven't," she said sweetly. "And at no time tonight did you look at me like you disapproved. I appreciate that. But I didn't think a thing about that stuff until you mentioned it just now. I'm not certain why I drank as much as I did other than the fact that I felt so comfortable and happy. I knew I didn't have to worry about anything because you would handle anything that came up. That is how much I trust you, Mike. The first couple of days after it happened, I didn't think I would ever trust anyone again. "Don't think that I ever trusted Lemons," she continued. "I didn't. But I trusted the system to take care of him. I trusted that I would be safe in my own home. That trust was shattered pretty quickly. Even if I could have gone back to Malden I don't think I could have ever lived in that house again. I was a nervous wreck the night we spent down there. I was fine when I was here the night before and I was fine when I was here the next night. I have come to realize that I'm fine here because I believe that I am safe with you. I know you feel protective of me — and that you're going to feel more protective of me as time passes. You're still protective of your ex-wife after all she put you through. "I like it. Since my Dad died I have felt like a part of me has been missing. The part of him that always took my side, I guess. The part of me that always knew that someone, somewhere loved me. I think tonight was a cumulative effect too. I finally feel that way again. I finally feel as if I don't have to be completely in control of everything. I finally feel that someone will love me even if I drink too much and make an ass of myself to someone's boyfriend — and to my boyfriend. Maybe that is more responsibility than you want. I guess that I should have mentioned that before I was a complete dummy but it really didn't make an impression on me until you forced me to take a look at things. I hope you'll forgive me and that I didn't disappoint you too much." "There is nothing for me to forgive and you didn't disappoint me at all," I told her. "It was nothing like that. It was more about Kasey and you than it was about you and me. I knew you were having fun and it didn't bother me in the least. I'm not the real jealous type. I understood that you were not trying to steal Cody from Kasey and that you were doing it as much to bolster his self-esteem as anything. But sometimes things take a turn you didn't expect — like Kasey trying to one-up you. If we had just been four friends out together, it wouldn't have made a difference. But we weren't. We're a couple who took his daughter somewhere." Carrie nodded. "I think the easy relationship you have with her throws me sometimes," Carrie said. "The line between friendship and father-daughter is blurred in this house. There are things that happen here that would have led to a screaming match in my house. My Dad was great. You know that's how I feel. But there are things we disagreed upon, sometimes violently. Not physically violent. I got my share of spankings when I was a kid but nothing I didn't deserve. But there were a lot of angry words exchanged, particularly when I was Kasey's age. Some of the things I've seen here would have precipitated an argument. Here, they start a giggling fit or a set of raised eyebrows and a calm discussion. I think a part of it is the fact that you didn't see her as often as you wanted for so long. I think a part of it is your personality. "I can say, without hesitation, if you had done what I did tonight I would be screaming and yelling. That is a part of my personality that I don't really like but I can't seem to change. Let's just say I suffer stupidity lightly. What I did tonight was stupid. Not just for Kasey but for what it could have meant for me and you. We haven't been together 20 years. I could have ruined our entire relationship tonight if you had taken it the wrong way." "Maybe," I agreed. "I'm not really as clueless as what I seem. But don't tell Kasey or Mark that. It's the only way I can catch them doing things. I know a part of you is scared about what's happening here. I know because a part of me is scared, too. It's a small part for me because I'm taking far less risk." Carrie quirked an eyebrow at me inquisitively. "I'm here and you know I'm not leaving here without my kids," I answered her unasked question. "I think I've been clear about that. I only have to integrate you into a life I already have. You're being asked to establish an entire new life in a new place with people you're just getting to know. You're being asked to let go of an entire life you've built and start a new one. That can't be easy." Carrie laughed bitterly. "Lemons made it easier than what you think," she said. "Mike, I was going to have to do that anyway. If anything, you've made it much easier than it would have been. I already have a set of friends here. From you and your family to Elizabeth to the people you've introduced me to in the last week and a half I have found people that I have a lot in common with and who have gone out of their way to put me at ease. I am rarely at ease around people. But even people like Monica, who I had very limited contact with, have done whatever they could to make things easier. I had hoped to put off this talk until tomorrow — well, later today — but neither of us seems to be sleepy so we might as well talk about it now." Carrie took a deep breath and seemed to gather her thoughts. "I am here," she said firmly. "This is my home now. It is where I plan to live. Not this house, specifically maybe, but this general location." "I'm glad to hear that and I think I knew that," I replied. "I have money," Carrie said. "You saw how much the insurance check was. That is about a third of my net worth." I raised my eyebrows. "Jesus," I said. "I'm lucky if I have three digits in my net worth. Carrie, I wouldn't care if you were penniless." She burst out laughing. "You didn't care when I was penniless," she said. "You didn't care in the least if I needed you to pay for everything. Money never entered into your mind. You never asked if I planned to pay you back. You only asked if I needed you to do more for me. Mike, you don't have any idea how much that meant to me. I'm not sure why I didn't tell you about this before now. I guess I knew it wouldn't make any difference to you. I told Kasey a couple of days ago and she pretty much confirmed what I already knew. So long as you had a place for your kids to live and a little bit of food to eat you were fine if there wasn't a penny left over at the end of the month. I'm not like that." "Uh, you have a better grasp of finances than I do," I pointed out gently. "Until Kelly left me, I had never balanced a checkbook in my life. I always had a decent idea of how much was in my account but I never worried about it. I knew Kelly set aside enough money each payday to pay for what had to be paid. Anything left over — if there was anything left over — was fair game. Once we got a little better established there was more left over at the end of the month but not always. I'm not after you for your money. I am after you for your bod!" I leered like Snidely Whiplash after my last sentence. "Good, although I'll probably still have money after my tits start to sag," Carrie giggled. She turned serious again and took another deep breath. "I want to buy a house here," she said. "I've always found property to be a worthwhile investment. It has its down times but it always rebounds. I've owned a house since I was 24 years old." "OK," I said. "If that's what you want then far be it from me to try to dissuade you. As I might have mentioned, finances and investments are your thing." Carrie visibly relaxed. "I thought it would be harder than that," she said. "I had a speech all prepared. Damn it, I spent 20 minutes putting it together in my head. At least I didn't make notes." I chuckled. "Why would it matter to me if you own a house?" I asked. Carrie's eyes widened. "Not me," she said. "Us. I want you and me to buy a house together and live there. This house is too small for me to run my business effectively. It's barely big enough for four people to fit in here comfortably. I want a bigger place — with a yard where we can play catch with Mark; where you and I can ride 4-wheelers and take picnic lunches; where Kasey can have a place to live if she wants to go to college here and still have privacy. Mike, it want this for us, not for me." "Oh," I replied. Sometimes my expansive vocabulary is truly impressive. "Do you think what you and I have is a long-term thing?" she asked. "Yes," I replied without hesitation. "I do believe it is." "Do you like the fact that we live together?" she wondered. "I do," I said after a moment. "Truly, it's like you've always belonged here." Carrie nodded and sighed. "While you were at work Friday, Kasey and I drove around looking at places," she informed me. "The market prices here are a little more depressed than Malden. So for what I paid for my house there I can get twice the house here — so long as the current owners aren't dealing in fantasy. My house in Malden was a nice split-level in a good neighborhood. It had a nice finished basement and three good-sized bedrooms. It was a perfect house for a family of four. I used the family room — the basement — rarely. I mostly used one bedroom as my office and another for hard-copy storage. "There is a place about 10 minutes out of town in one of the subdivisions that would be perfect for us. It has an apartment over the attached garage — so Kasey has her own space if she is here in college or just home for the weekend. It has a nice backyard for a play area for Mark. It has four bedrooms and three baths. The school district is fantastic — the highest rated in the county. It also comes with about 4 acres of land and a pond that we can stock and fish. The best part is that we can get it for less than half of the appraised price. I haven't seen the inside but the outside is immaculate. It's a place where your kids would be happy and our kids can grow up." I was sitting there slack jawed. I wondered if I was slobbering like Mark does and I consciously looked at the table top to make sure I wasn't. "Uh, well," I stammered. The synapses to my language receptors still weren't firing. "It's in foreclosure right now," Carrie continued. "We can pick it up for less than half of what I deposited last week if we move quick and we might be able to move in by February." I shook my head to clear the haze that had settled over my mind. "Carrie, if it costs more than a matchbox car, I'm pretty well out," I said. "I mean, yeah, I have some money that Kelly doesn't know about. But it is far less than $200,000. I mean about $190,000 less than $200,000." "I told you I have money," she insisted. "Not once did you complain about money when you were handing it out." "I was handing it out a hundred at a time, not a million," I said. "Holy shit. This is a huge step." "Well, you said a few minutes ago that I was taking all the risk," she said. "I agree that I am taking all the risk. The simple fact is this. I would like to buy the house. I would like to live with you. There is no reason I can't have both. You rent here. This place will not work for what I need it for. Do you agree with that?" "I agree," I said. "Although, in my defense I was under the impression that you and I could share an office. I didn't realize how much space your business required." "Your office is for short-term things," she groused. "It's filled to capacity when you are in there with someone else. Where did you expect to put a desk for me?" "I don't know," I said in a voice louder than what I meant. "I haven't thought about it. OK? I have just been reveling in the moment and I haven't sat down to do any long-term planning. I admit it." "Honey," Carrie said in a placating tone, "you said your financial situation is going to be better by this time next year. I can tote the heavy things until you get to that point. But, let's be honest, you're never going to make as much money as I do. I don't mean that badly. It's just a fact. You've reached, most likely, the top end of your earning potential. Yes, you reached it far sooner than most people do but it doesn't change the fact that you're not going to ever make much more than what you do right now." I grudgingly agreed. Intellectually, I knew Carrie was right. Still, it hurt to sit there and have it pointed out to me so succinctly. "My business is only five years old," she said. "What I do is somewhat specialized. My overhead is small so almost everything I make is profit — after taxes of course. I made more than $200,000 last year, Mike. Honey, I'm not trying to beat you over the head with how much money I make. I don't want you to be defensive about how much money you make. You have a job that you like and that you're good at. You are being paid more than most people in your field — or at least you are if you're being paid anything near what you're worth. "But that is beside the point," Carrie added. "I have a job that I like and I'm good at. It pays more than yours does. That is the point I'm trying to make. Well, that and the fact that I can afford to this. We can afford to do this. It makes sense both practically and financially. How much do you pay in rent here?" I told her. "That is about twice as much as our mortgage payment would be," she said. "If we had to take a mortgage. We don't need a mortgage. We can pay for it outright. If you want to pay me $700 a month I guess I can't stop you. But what is the difference if we live together here and I spent money renting an office or buying a place for my business than if we just buy a place that will have space for all of us and that will give us something to pass on to the kids?" I hate logic — when it is used against me. "Shit," I said. "It makes sense, Carrie. It makes near perfect sense. It gives us security and it fulfills all the needs either of us has. Maybe I'm only being a dick because it wasn't my idea. Well, that and the fact that I can't really afford to contribute much." "You pay $700 in rent here," she said. "You won't be paying that anymore. That's $8,000 extra a year. The taxes on anything we buy won't come anywhere close to $8,000. Or at least they better not. It doesn't make a bit of sense but we can do it this way if you insist: I'll put a down payment on a house and we'll take a mortgage together. Each of us will pay half of it and split the utilities and taxes — right down the middle if you want. It will cost us a hell of a lot more over the length of the mortgage but if it will soothe your ego, I'll piss money down a rathole." I burst out in laughter. "I guess you're right," I replied. "I think it is simply ego. I'm used to paying for everything. We'll take a look at the house today if we ever get to sleep." "We were going to look at houses anyway," Carrie informed. "I own you. Remember? And since I own you, why are you wearing pants? Because it's 2 a.m., I own you until 2 a.m. tomorrow morning. Now, off with your pants — and off with mine, too." If the next hour was what being Carrie's slave was all about, I think I'm for it. ------- Chapter 23 I awoke to Carrie kissing me softly on my nose. She was already astride me — just waiting to make sure that I wasn't in dire need of the restroom before she slid down. When I smiled at her, she popped a breath mint in my mouth and kissed me solidly. "Here are the rules today," she said. Since I was trapped in her warmth, I pretty much would have agreed to anything. "No clothes unless we leave the house or we have company. Once an hour, I expect you to satisfy me orally, digitally or sexually. I will attempt to satisfy you as often or maybe I won't." She started to rock back and forth more quickly. "After noon, we'll go look at the house I like," she said. "You may of course wear clothes for that venture but you are not absolved of your other duties. You will cook my breakfast, my lunch and my supper. You will clean up after me. You will bathe me in a few minutes. You will dry my hair for me and you will dress me. After we look at the house, you will give me a nice full-body massage — and only a massage. Then you gently make love to me tonight until I fall asleep in your arms. Any deviation from your assignments will lead to punishment. Do you understand your duties for the day?" "Yes," I said. "Yes, Mistress," Carrie said with a grimace as I hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Lay still. You're just a flesh and blood dildo for me right now. This is for me, not for you." "Yes, Mistress," I said. Carrie rocked back and forth until she climaxed. The whole time she held my hands. Then she arose and walked off to the bathroom. I lay in bed — still fully erect — wondering if she was finished. "Come," she said as she motioned to me the bathroom doorway. I thought the pun was rather unfortunate. I rose and walked into the bathroom. "Take care of your morning needs," she said sternly. "Then run me a nice warm bath. Not too hot; not too cold." I glanced down to my erection — which hadn't flagged in the least. "Do not provide relief to yourself," she said. "If you need help with that, I will provide it. However, I can assure you that you will not like way I deal with it." I'm sure my eyes were huge by this point. Carrie leaned in and kissed me softly on the cheek. "Just play along, hon," she said. "Please." I closed my eyes for a moment. "Yes, Mistress," I said. "I love you, Mike," she said as she kissed me firmly. "I know this is kinky but it's something that I've always wanted to do. While I was locked in that trunk I was scared and this I what I thought of. I channeled all of this into me and then I kicked that freak's ass. I just want to be in complete control for a day. I promise I won't hurt you and I'll make it up to you later." I dropped my persona for a moment to pull her close to me and hug her tightly. "Just so long as it doesn't go too far," I said. "No pain," she said. "No humiliation or degradation. I promise. I might be a bitch to you but I'll try not to take it past a point. If I do, just say 'Butterfly' and we'll stop." "Deal," I said. "Mistress." Carrie giggled and gave me a soft kiss and a sweet grope. "Now, run my bath," she said. "Not too hot and not too cold. After you brush your teeth." ------- Carrie had, thankfully, placed a sign on the door asking for Kasey to knock before coming inside. Because Kasey wandered over a little before noon. I was naked, under the kitchen table orally satisfying my mistress when my daughter knocked on the door. Carrie pulled herself together and sent me upstairs to dress — and to wash my face. My daughter was sitting perplexed in the living room when I came downstairs. "I was explaining that you were paying off your bet in a little while," Carrie said. "Ah," I said. "So you're going to look at the house with her?" Kasey asked. "I'm surprised that you agreed to that." "It wasn't easy," I said. "But Carrie made some good points that I couldn't argue with." "You found something you couldn't argue about?" Kasey said. "Good Lord, wait until I tell Mom. Can I come with you?" Carrie smirked at me before she told Kasey that she was welcome to join us. "Why don't you take a quick shower and we'll go," Carrie said as she pointedly glanced at her watch. "I think if we get going I think we can get back here by 2. That's three hours." I took a very quick shower. I could tell from Carrie's glance that Kasey's presence wasn't going to relieve me from my hourly duties. Carrie met me when I got out the shower. I noticed quickly that she had no pants on. "If you hurry you can get your 11 a.m. in," she said. "You have until Kasey returns and you may use any means at your disposal. If I achieve orgasm before we leave it will lessen your punishment for missing the next few — although you still will be punished." I dropped my towel and buried my face between Carrie's thighs. I could tell that she had been keeping herself warm for me. I wasn't certain I could do it but Carrie was satisfied by the time Kasey returned. Of course my bathroom smelled slightly like a bordello but it was a small price. And I was painfully erect again. "Dress me and then dress yourself," Carrie ordered. "You may refrain from calling me 'Mistress' in the presence of others. But you still must follow my directives. Are we clear?" "Yes, Mistress," I replied as I helped her into her panties. "Kiss my pussy goodbye," she insisted. "It looks as though you will not be seeing it for a while." I did as she instructed before I helped her into her pants. Carrie sat on the toilet and started to gently manipulate my cock while kissing my hips. When Kasey rang the doorbell, Carrie sucked me deeply into her mouth — and then got up and went to answer the door, leaving me on the edge again. ------- The trip to the house Carrie had looked at was an effort in frustration. Carrie and Kasey pretty much ignored my presence as they discussed what had transpired the night before. Well, at least Kasey ignored me. Carrie took every opportunity to touch my arm or squeeze my hand. The house was nice — very nice. The three of us took a walk around the property and it was pretty much as Carrie had described it. I guessed that the inside was as well-kept as the outside. The neighborhood was upscale and there was a decent distance from one house to the next. "What is the actual price?" I asked. "It has $180,000 on the mortgage," Carrie said. "The bank probably will let it go for 145 or 150 if we pay cash." I stood pondering the place while Carrie and Kasey were silent. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Very," she said. "Even if this is too far out, there are others we can look at. There is one that Kasey really liked — because it has an in-ground pool. It's a ranch-style. That's the only drawback except the price. It's $300,000 but it is in the same school district that Mark and Kasey attend now." "Not really a consideration since I don't have custody," I said. "They don't go to school from my house — or at least they do it rarely enough it shouldn't be a deciding factor. For the difference in the price we could afford to put a pool in here if you wanted." "If you want to, I want to," Carrie said simply. "Right now it's appraised at almost $400,000. It's a really good deal." "I guess you should make arrangements to check out the inside and see how much the bank will take," I replied with a small shrug. "Really?" Carrie asked. "That's it? You don't want to look around more?" "Why?" I wondered. "You like this one. It is a really great location. I'm wondering why it hasn't been snagged before now." "I just went into full default on the 26th," Carrie explained. "I was the first person to call the bank to ask about it. I have a pretty good reputation with most banks, so I called a friend of mine in Columbus and she called the one here to make a formal request about foreclosed properties. This one hasn't been listed anywhere and it won't be for another 10 days." "Well, if you can get it, it seems like a worthwhile investment even if it takes a little to fix it up," I said. "I mean, you put $200,000 into it and turn around and sell it for $350,000 it's still a win. Right?" "Right," Carrie said. "But I don't see doing that. From what my friend tells me, it's a rather convoluted story here. The couple that owned it died a year or so ago. One of their sons and his wife lived there until they split up last summer. Since then no one has made a payment on the mortgage they took out. So far as I know there are no further liens against it but I plan to do a thorough check on that in the morning. Are you absolutely sure about this?" "Absolutely?" I asked. "No. But that is pretty much my answer to almost everything. I see nothing that throws a lot of red flags up. It would help if we can get it done by March because I'll have to renew my lease then. I don't want to put my landlord out more than Kasey's room already will." "Hey!" Kasey said with indignation. "You said I could paint it black." "I also told you that it would be impossible for us to paint it any other color afterward," I said. "Maybe that is how Kasey should spend her weekends if we decide to move — priming the room for the next occupant." Kasey turned to walk back the car in a huff. "You're an hour behind on your duties," Carrie said as she pointed to her watch. "By the time we take Kasey to lunch and get back to the house, you'll be two hours behind. Are you interested in what your punishment is?" "No, Mistress," I said as I hip checked Carrie. "I'll trust you." Carrie grabbed my arm and spun me around. She pulled me down and gave me a toe-curling kiss. "Butterfly," she whispered. "I love you, Mike. I love you so much it drives me crazy. Thank you for today. Thank you for trusting me about the house. And thank you for trusting me with our day. I can't tell you how much I love you. It's crazy as hell but I can't picture spending another minute without you in my life." I returned her kiss. "By the way, Mistress," I said. "Your ass looks absolutely delectable in those pants. But I can see your panties." "I know," Carrie said. "But you really have to look to see them, don't you?" "Yes," I answered. "Yes, Mistress." "Then keep looking," she ordered. Then she patted the erection that hadn't fully subsided since I awoke. It was almost midnight when I learned what my punishment would be. I managed to give Carrie an orgasm each hour of the day from the time we dropped Kasey off until the clock signaled the next day had arrived. Carrie took my hand at midnight and led me to our bed. She had relented when the temperature dropped and permitted me to wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt. But those were dispensed with once we were in bed. Then, for the next hour, she proceed to give me a blowjob without letting me cum. It was excruciatingly pleasurable. Every time I would get close, Carrie would stop or slow down. When my punishment was over kissed up my chest to my face and she kissed me sweetly. "Tell me what you want," she whispered. "You," I answered. "Be more specific," she said. "Tell me what you want me to do." "Let me cum," I begged. "Where do you want to cum," she said huskily. "Do you want to cum in mouth? Would you like to fill my mouth and watch me swallow every drop of your cum?" "Yes," I said. "I'm not finished," she said. "Or would you like to cum in hot pussy? Would you like to shoot deep inside of me? Would you like to spurt so deep into my womb that we make a baby?" "Yes," I begged. "You have one other choice," Carrie whispered. "Would you like to cum in my ass? Would you like for me to get some lube and let you stick your hard cock in my tight little asshole? Would like to put me up on all fours and fuck me in my ass, Mike?" "Yes," I said. "Well, tonight, you can only have one," she told me. "Maybe two. But the night we move into our new house, you get all three, Mike. First, I'll suck your cock and let you come in my mouth. Then you can make love to me for hours and hours if you want to. Then, when your cock is nice and hard, I'll get up on my hands and knees and you take my ass. You'll be the only man who has ever been there. When you ass-fuck me you'll be the only man I've ever given that to. I'll give it to you tonight if you want me to. You're the man I will love forever. So you tell me where you want me to take your cock, Mike." "Mouth," I muttered. "Mouth first. Then I'll make love to you like I promised." Carrie didn't say a word, she just slid down my chest and finished me off. I had been so tormented for so long that it took only seconds. Then we made love — softly and gently — until we could no longer stand. ------- The next day started out well enough. Carrie was by my side and sound asleep with an angelic look on her face. I kissed her softly on the nose and made my way to the bathroom for my shower. She was still asleep when I headed off to work, so I roused her gently and told her I loved her and that I would see her that night. Work went pretty well. I was the butt of jokes for my costume at the Humane Society Ball and Elizabeth laughed and joked with the best of them. The publisher had returned from Aspen and he stopped in to compliment me on how things ran during his absence. I hated to tell him that I hadn't been there most of the time either and I pretty well let things run themselves, but I did. He chuckled and wondered why he paid me so much. "Because it won't always be like last week," Elizabeth reminded him. "And if something had turned to shit you would rather someone called Mike than to call you. Mostly because you would had to have called someone like Mike to know what to do in the first place." "Oh, yeah," he said. And, like so many times, he wandered away from a conversation with Elizabeth shaking his head. "Someone should buy that man for what he is worth and sell him for what he thinks he is worth," she said after he walked away. "Hell, things ran smoothly without you here for the sole reason that neither he nor his dumb-ass wife was around to screw things up. So long as there is no publisher to dick around with the works a monkey could do your job." "Hey, I resemble that remark," I said. Elizabeth shook her head and dropped a copy of Monday's paper on my desk. There, in bright living color, on Page 1 was a picture of Kasey, Cody, Carrie and me dancing at the Humane Society Costume Ball. "I thought you should see this first hand," she said. "There apparently was quite a debate about whether to use it or not. Because you were unavailable to make the decision the news editor made it. The photographer swears it is the best shot he took. I have seen some of the others so I agree. But I didn't want you to be blindsided if someone calls to complain that your picture is there instead of theirs." It really was a good picture. The contrast in colors from my dark blue to Carrie's light yellow to Cody's stark white to Kasey's deep red costumes was brilliant. But it was the looks on our faces that made it great. Kasey and Cody looked as if they were having the best time of their young lives. Their smiles were honest and open. Even their eyes were vibrant. Carrie was looking at me with an easy-going expression and a lightness of bearing. There was nothing forced or staid about her posture. She was happy and relaxed and thoroughly enjoying herself. Even my smile was natural and easy. I was looking directly at Carrie's face and you could plainly see that I was crazy about the person in my arms. "It's OK," I said as I looked at what was selected for the Living section. "I trust Jason's professionalism completely. If he says it's what was best for Page 1 then it was what was best for Page 1. I'm sure the layout was set beforehand and the copy editor needed to fill a set amount of space. The only other obvious choice is the mayor and we ran a holiday picture of him on Christmas Eve." Elizabeth smiled and patted my hand sweetly. "Two weeks ago you would have had a fit," she said. I glanced up at her. "Really?" I asked. "Well, not a fit," she said. "But you would have been uncomfortable with it. I remember what you said when you were hired and the publisher put the story on Page 1. You said it was no different in hiring you than if any other business hired a mid-level manager. You said, in no uncertain terms, that just because it related to the newspaper did not increase the importance of as story." "I still feel that way," I said. "But this is not about the newspaper. It is about the Humane Society and their fund-raiser. You'll notice that the newspaper is mentioned only once in the cutline — the explanation of who I was and why I was there. The other five lines are all about the Humane Society. I think the people who made this decision showed very good judgment. The visual editor stuck to his guns in deciding what constitutes good art. He knows that portion of the job as well as anyone. I don't think anyone could argue that this picture does not tell the story or that it is not compelling art for Page 1. The news editor was right to question the validity of the photo and she was right to question if there was a way to tell the story without self-promotion. She was also right to defer judgment to the visual editor. And you were right to bring this to me as soon as I came in." I chuckled. "I was the only one remiss in my duties," I said. "I should have instructed Jason that regardless of the quality of the photo he was not to use a picture of me on the front page. I also should have taken a moment to look at the paper when it was delivered yesterday morning. Obviously, I did not. But I was somewhat busy yesterday." Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "I went house hunting," I said. "Really?" Elizabeth said as she took a seat across from me. "It's a nice one," I said. "Four bedrooms, 3 baths, a nice yard. It's almost perfect." "Is Kelly lowering your support obligation?" she asked. "Ha," I laughed. "Actually, I learned that Carrie is extremely well off. She and I are going to work out how to pay for it but it looks as though she'll probably just buy it." Elizabeth smiled sweetly at me. I was certain that she could read my mind and this was no exception. "Extremely well off?" she asked. "Extremely," I said with emphasis on the word. "Like enough money to buy this house out of her checking account without the need for a mortgage and we won't be eating Ramen noodles for six months afterward either." Elizabeth's laughter filled the room and her hand slapping my desk sounded like a gunshot. "That is fantastic, Mike," she said. "It is so fitting. You took her in when she had nothing — literally nothing. I know how much you pay in child support and I have a pretty good idea of how much you have leftover afterward. But you didn't care. You saw someone who needed help and you helped them however you could. I have always believed in karma and this is just perfect. I know Kelly and you are getting along very well now. But I think this is perfect payback for all that shit she did. You're happy and laughing. You are in love with a beautiful and wonderful woman. And this woman just happens to have more money than God. I bet when Kelly finds out about this she will have a coronary." "I hope not," I said. "The house is in a different school system. I doubt Kasey will want to go to a different high school for her last five months." "Kasey certainly looks grown up in that photo," Elizabeth said. I sighed wistfully. "I know she does and I hate it," I said. "Don't rub it in. I wonder if she is mature enough to move away but I worry that I'll wind up killing her if she doesn't. Her date is a very nice boy. Or if he's not he hides it well. I think that helps me. Her taste in guys has improved during the last six months. Still, there are other things about her that I find troubling." "Welcome to parenting a young adult," she said. "My son is in his 30s. I still worry about things he does. Hell, when he's 70 and I'm 90 it will be the same way. By the way, if you and Carrie don't work out I plan to give her his number." I shook my head. "I put in all the work to get her housebroken and your son reaps the benefits?" I asked. "I don't think so. But I know she has some friends in the area where Tim lives. I could see if any are single for you." Elizabeth smiled and walked back to her desk. I pondered the difference in her personality from the way she treated me and the way she treated the publisher — my boss. After a moment I stopped pondering and was just thankful that she like me. I brought a dozen copies of the paper home for Carrie and Kasey. I hoped to surprise them but of course I couldn't. Kasey had found out at school and the duo had already used my laptop to access the raw photos server and download all the pictures that had any of us in them. They were still chatting away and were comparing and contrasting all the pictures at 8 p.m. Then the law of unintended consequences reared up an bit me on the ass. ------- I noticed the car parked across the street when I turned into the driveway. But I didn't pay much attention to it, despite the fact that the house across the street was vacant. I was in my office with the girls when I noticed a dome light come on in the car. I wasn't really looking out the window and the shades were pulled. For some reason, I wanted to see it was snowing or not. It was snowing slightly. But that is not what drew my attention. Nope, what caught my eye was Robert Lemons walking up my front walk. "Mother fuck," I said. Carrie and Kasey both turned to me. "Snowing again," Kasey asked. I ignored her. "Call 911," I said as I reached into the closet and pulled out the 1 iron from my golf bag. "Lemons is on this way up the walk and I'm not playing this fucking game anymore. Don't answer the door. No matter what you hear, don't open the fucking door." I slipped out the back door and around the darkened house just as Lemons was stepping on the porch. "Bad idea, douchebag," I said loudly as I stepped out of the shadows and swung my golf club at Lemons' kneecaps. My foot slid on the icy walkway and my aim was a tiny bit off. Far enough that I missed shattering his kneecap like I'd planned but not far enough that I missed him completely. Lemons fell off the porch toward where I had landed on my ass. I heard him scream so I know I got him good. I also saw the head of the golf club go flying off so I knew I got him really good. He landed on me with a thud and I felt a stinging sensation in my chest. I thought he might have cracked a rib with his bulk. I pushed the mother fucker off me and I went to punch him in the face. When I tried to roll over I felt an excruciating pain slice through me. I stumbled to my feet and saw the porch light come on. In the light I could see Lemons crumpled and crying on the snow. Then I noticed the blood on the ground. When I looked down I saw where it was coming from — the hilt of a knife was sticking out of my chest. The last sight I remember was Carrie and Kasey stepping out on the porch. I had time to whisper to them that I was sorry before I passed out. ------- Chapter 24 I wasn't sure how much time passed but I awoke in the hospital. My mouth felt like someone has pissed in it and then used a pair of dirty underwear to soak up the urine. My head was hazy and the room was dark. My chest felt like it might have been where the elephant had stood when it pissed in my mouth. I didn't even have enough energy to lift my head. My throat was too dry to make a croaking sound. My left arm was in a sling and the nurses call button was on the left side. I figured I was fucked as far as getting someone to notice that I was awake so I fell back to sleep. I awoke some time later to find Carrie sitting beside me looking at me. I tried to smile but I don't think it worked. She was out of her seat in an instant and frantically pressing the button I couldn't reach. Soon the room was a bustle of activity. "You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Cavenaugh," I remember a doctor saying as he checked a host of machines that surrounded my bed. I tried to croak out something but no sound came. I tried coughing and it was only marginally more successful. At least the nurse got me some ice chips. As soon as the coolness hit my throat I felt 10 times better. "What happened?" I asked when the ice soothed my throat enough to speak. "We'll talk later," Carrie answered. I nodded before the doctor spoke again. "You had some trouble with the anesthetic," the doctor said. "We had a great deal of trouble waking you up." "It wouldn't have been nearly as much trouble if you would have put the call button on the side without a cast," I mumbled. "I woke up a couple of times before but there was no way I could let anyone know so I went back to sleep." The doctor looked down at the call button and then at my sling. He then shot a pointed looked at a blushing nurse. "How long ago did you awaken?" the doctor asked. "How in the hell would I know?" I asked. "Of course, of course," the doctor said. "If you would have let me stay here like I wanted to there wouldn't have been a problem," I heard Carrie say. I reached across the pat her hand that was on my arm. "Jesus, what a stupid idea that was," I said to change the subject. "It seemed so much easier in my head." Carrie tightened her grip on my hand and shook her head. With her eyes she glanced at the medical personnel in the room. "You're actually very lucky," the doctor intoned pompously. Or at least it sounded pompously to me. "Yes, you've told everyone who will listen how lucky he is," Carrie said with disgust. "We know. He knows. Now how is he?" I felt guilty about the pain that was evident in Carrie's face. I hoped the Lemons was sufficiently out of commission that he didn't harm her or my daughter. Then it hit me: Kasey wasn't in the room. "Where is Kasey?" I asked quickly. "She's OK, right?" The nurse was telling me to calm down but there was no way I could. I felt tears on my cheeks and then Carrie's finger drying them. "She's fine, hon," Carrie said. "She is just fine. We both are just fine thanks to you. But she's only 17 and Dr. Douchebag here refuses to let her in to see you for even a moment. Hon, you're still in ICU." "Well then get me the fuck out of ICU," I told the doctor. "Or get me an administrator in here this very minute." The doctor's face was red and I could see he was battling with his temper. I didn't really give a fuck. "You can leave ICU when I say you can," he said with an arrogant tone. "Then you better say I can with your next sentence or you better remember that one day I will get out of here and you really don't want to see what happens next," I said. "Oh, he's already going to get the shit kicked out of him," Carrie said. "Kelly and Elizabeth are already on the warpath so you know his days here are numbered." I couldn't suppress a chuckle. "You poor fucker," I said. "You're too full of yourself to even realize how deeply you stepped in the shit pile. My ex-wife is an expert at making people's lives miserable. Elizabeth Drayton is called the Dragon Lady. They might not even find your body." "Oh, Elizabeth is one unhappy camper," Carrie confirmed. I saw the nurse give a slight nod. "Kelly already has Josie Ayers working on it. After the anesthesia he ordered, he'll be lucky to be able to cut out ingrown toenails at the free clinic by the time Kelly and Elizabeth are done with him. Then I'll pick the rest of the meat off the carcass. Now, I distinctly remember you asking about an administrator. Yet I have yet to see him call for one. Miss Harrison, would you be so kind as the contact this doctor's supervisor." The nurse shrugged at the doctor and left the room. The doctor left seconds later. "Now, what the hell happened yesterday?" I asked. "Other than that fucker Lemons stabbing me. Jesus Christ." Carrie closed her eyes for a moment. "It wasn't yesterday, hon," she said. "It was three days ago. Now, I've got to call Kasey and let her know you're alright. Then I've been instructed not to say anything to you until the police can get a statement." "Hell, I can't fucking tell them a thing," I said. "I think they want to tell you some things," she said. "I'll be back in about 10 minutes. I can't use my cell anywhere but outside and I have strict orders to call about a dozen people." I held her hand tightly when she stood. "I love you, Carrie," I said. "And I'm sorry I put you through this." She leaned over a kissed my cheek softly. "I love you too, Mike," she told me. "More than you might ever know. I was so scared that I had lost you. Please, please, promise me that you won't do anything like this again." "I will certainly do my best," I answered honestly. Carrie had been gone only a couple of minutes when I saw a state policeman that I played softball with enter my room. "Hi, Fitz," I said. "It's nice of you to stop by." "Actually, Mike," he said. "I'm here officially. My office is handling the investigation." "Oh, that's good to know," I said. "You guys are good at what you do and I have a lot more faith in you than in the parole office." He pulled a sheet of paper out his clipboard and handed it to me. "Read this and sign and date it," he said. "Is this a Miranda warning?" I said aghast. "No, Mike," he said. "Hell no. Listen to me for a moment. Robert Lemons is an attorney. He is disbarred, yes. But he is still capable of filing numerous lawsuits for himself. He is threatening to do just that. In fact, as soon as he regained consciousness, he started screaming that he was going to sue everyone he could think of." I laughed. "Let him sue me," I said. "What the fuck is he going to get? A five-year old car and a couple hundred bucks. Fuck him." "Mike, how much do you remember?" Paul Fitzgerald asked me. "Not a lot," I said. "I saw him coming up the walk." He held up a hand. "Let's skip to after he stabbed you," he said. "What do you remember after that?" "Looking down and passing out," I replied. "No, I saw my girlfriend and my daughter come out on the porch. That's really all I remember." Paul pulled out a chair and sat down with a smile. "OK, unofficially," he said. "You broke Lemons femur. The femur is hard to break with a direct hit. Almost impossible from what I've heard. So you knocked the shit out of him. A compound displaced fracture. The bone was broken so thoroughly that it pushed through his hamstring and was protruding from the back of his leg. Where was the swing during softball season?" I chuckled. "Good," I said. "I hope it never heals." "Oh it'll heal but you can bet he'll be in a cast for quite a few months," Fitz told me. "He'll be unable to escape all the ass rapes he's got coming his way. So, Lemons was completely — legally — incapacitated. He was no longer a threat. Can we agree that with a broken femur he wasn't going anywhere?" I nodded. "See here is where things get interesting," Paul said. "Amazingly, after Lemons stabbed you — in the heart and lung, by the way — you managed to pepper spray him and break pretty much every bone in his face." "Do you guys need to cover your asses, Paul?" I asked with some skepticism. "Did you guys rough him up on the way to the hospital. I mean he is a fuck so I won't blame you and I'll tell whatever story you want me to." Paul broke out in gales of laughter. "Not our ass," Paul said. "Look, your girlfriend is a prime candidate for a lawsuit against her. And your daughter might have to work for the rest of her life to pay off a civil suit if Lemons wins. Mike, the legal definition of self-defense was voided as soon as Lemons posed no further danger. Your golf club pretty much took him out of action. Unofficially, of course. Officially, you were unarmed." I guess my confusion was evident. "Just read the official version," he said. "Lemons' doctor agrees that Lemons' injuries are consistent with a fall from your porch during the struggle he had with you as he tried to break into your house. Your girlfriend has said that you asked her to call the police as soon as you recognized him. You answered the door, saw Lemons and struggled with him. During the struggle you punched Lemons several times in the face and head and managed to get your hands around his neck and knee him hard enough in the balls to rupture one of his testicles. During the struggle Lemons stabbed you. That much is not in question. Lemons' fingerprints are all over the knife — including the blade that nicked your heart. Your momentum carried you off the porch when Lemons broke his leg and landed — hard — on his face. By the way, you also suffered a dislocated elbow in the fall." Well, at least that answered the question about the sling. The throbbing let me know it wasn't a ruse. I read over the report as Paul looked on. It basically said what he told me it would. Eventually I put two and two together and I looked up at Sgt. Fitzgerald questioningly. "Oh, yeah," he said with a smile. "They beat the living fuck out of that dude. When I got there, your daughter was literally sitting on his back slamming his face into the pavement. Your girlfriend was trying to help you — thankfully she left the knife in. From what I heard — unofficially, of course — Carrie saw you fall over but didn't realize how badly you'd been hurt. Lemons had pepper spray with him so she blasted him in the face, asked him how he liked it, then kicked him squarely in the nuts. I guess it was then that she saw the blood leaking out of your sweatshirt. Well, your daughter saw that, too and she went a little crazy. Let's just say that Lemons will need extensive plastic surgery and the state is highly unlikely to pay for such an expense for a man who will never see the outside of a prison cell again. "I was on my way home and heard the call when I was about two minutes away," he continued. "I recognized your address and raced over. Pretty much everything was over with except for Kasey trying to decapitate Lemons. If I would have known who he was I would have shot him and let him bleed out right there. But getting you to the hospital was a little more important. Another Statie lives a block away so I called him to secure the scene then I brought you here. You were lucky, Dude. I mean real lucky. I fucked up royally. I should have left you there for the paramedics but I knew I could get you here in less time that it would take for them to get to your house. I heard the doctor say that a quarter inch higher and you would have died before they could have stopped it. I honestly don't know if you hurt your arm when you fell, or when Lemons fell on you or when I carried you in here." I could tell Fitz was a bit shaken to I patted his arm. "Hey, no problem," I said. "You got me here and I'm OK. Personally, I think you handled it pretty well. So, this statement is about covering what Carrie and Kasey did after he was no longer a threat?" Fitz nodded but didn't say anything. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I said. "If it ever comes to a civil suit I won't ask you to lie." "You won't have to ask," Paul said firmly. "It's bullshit that Lemons ever got out. It's bullshit that Carrie wasn't provided some sort of protection. It's bullshit that he slipped out of custody. Like I said, if I would have known who was and what he had planned I would have just shot him." "What he had planned?" I asked. Paul blanched. "No one knows about this outside of my office," he said. "That means I haven't said anything to your girls. But he planned to kill you and abduct Carrie and Kasey. Lemons knows some unsavory characters and he promised he would send them to those guys. He took pictures of them outside your house for a couple of days. From what I understand he found out she was up here a few days ago but he couldn't find her." "Until that fucking picture in the newspaper," I added. Paul nodded. "So he found your address and made plans," he said. "He is a creepy little fuck. That's for damned sure. But you already know that. Listen, I'm not going to say anything more. First, I don't want you going down to where Lemons is in custody and finishing him off. Second, the more I talk about that bastard the more I want to make sure he never gets out of this place. I'm in deep enough and so are a couple of others. No charges are being filed against anyone you know. The DA has patently refused to file charges against you, Carrie or Kasey despite what Lemons is claiming and despite pressure from a judge in Malden. He absolutely won't hear of it. And Cameron told the judge — from what I heard — that since Cameron is appointed and interim he doesn't give a fuck what the judge wants. Those words exactly — according to my source. Cameron is lead dog on the rest of the conspiracy. The information we found in Lemons' car led to about three dozen people being rounded up on a variety of charges, or so I've heard." I knew Paul's wife worked in DA's office so I had no doubt who his source was. "Tell him I said thanks," I said. "And thank you, Paul." "I'm not letting Lemons put you people in legal trouble," Fitz told me. "That is not what the law is for. Lemons went to your house for the sole purpose of causing pain to you and the girls. He doesn't get the chance to cry foul when it's him that winds up hurt. By the way, they've charge Lemons with about every charge they can hit him with. My source tells me he even is being charged with identity fraud for renting a car in an assumed name and parking too close to a hydrant. The Attorney General has ordered that this county has jurisdiction on all crimes committed after his parole. The judge here will make sure that Lemons' sentences run consecutively. His score is low so the max he could do on any single charge is 25 years — and that's for the attempted murder. Most of them are 7 to 10 year hits. But you stack a couple dozen of 7 year hits back to back and it adds up." "I'm sure Carrie will be glad to hear that," I said. "Shit, if you would have died Lemons never would have gotten out of here alive," Paul said. I didn't think he was joking. I saw a nurse at the doorway and I motioned her in. "I just have to give my official statement to Sgt. Fitzgerald," I said. "It shouldn't take long." The nurse nodded and left. "So, do you want to take notes?" I asked. "You don't want to just sign that one?" he asked. "How different is this from what Carrie told you?" I wondered. "Similar but from different perspectives," he said. "A lot of it is worded differently. I didn't go word for word." He smiled. "Thanks for thinking of me, though," he said. "This is not something I do. In fact, I've never done this before. Then again, I've never needed to before." I signed my name to the bottom and dated it for the sixth. Paul laughed when he saw that. "It'll take you a day to get my official statement typed," I said. "Paul, I do appreciate this. And if I'm every able to help you out, you know I will." He waved his hand. "I knew that before I offered to do this," he said. "That's the only reason I would do it. You just treat those women nicely." "I'm scared not to," I said. "Carrie and Kasey are a pretty formidable team. They could have taken Lemons without me getting hurt." "Oh, your ex-wife just about went apoplectic," Paul said. "They wanted me to arrest her for disturbing the peace. It seems she still holds your medical power-of-attorney. You might want to change that. Some poor administrator got her ass reamed by some lawyer about some medication they gave to you. You'll probably own this place by the time she is done. And some older woman, Jesus Christ. As soon as your ex would shut up for a moment this older woman would start. Then some doctor got short with your daughter and all bets were off. Those three turned on him like a lioness on a slow gazelle. My wife and I just sat there and played with Mark while they went ape-shit crazy. Dude, I thought you and your ex hated each other." "We're trying to be nice to one another for the kids," I said."Thanks for looking after Mark. He means the world to me." "I know," Fitz said. "He's been staying at our house after school the past couple of days. Your ex didn't want to disrupt his schedule. Your daughter has been sitting downstairs since they brought you in. I think she finally went home yesterday for a shower then she came back." "They won't let her see me," I said. Fitz got a determined look on his face. "Wanna bet?" he asked as he strode from the room. Two minutes later a tearful Kasey was hugging me gently and kissing my cheek. The pompous doctor stuck his head in and started to say something. He stopped when Fitz turned to him and gave him a harsh look. "It pays to carry a gun," Fitz said with a laugh. "Hon, don't stay long but I'll wait outside for you." Kasey let go of me and latched on to Fitz. A second later she back to me. "I hear you took up for me pretty good," I said. Kasey looked at me and dried her eyes. "You hurt my dad, I fuck up your world," she said firmly. "No questions asked." I chuckled and hugged her as well as I could. I didn't even chide her for her language. "I'm going to be fine, Shortstuff," I said. "I know," she sniffed. "But Daddy, when I saw you fall. Jesus, Dad, I love you so much. I can't even think of what would happen if I lost you." "I know, sweetie," I said. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. I can't even think about that. I'll be in a room soon so you can visit me. But you've got to go back to school tomorrow." "Tomorrow is Sunday," she said with a smile. "Can I wait until Monday?" "I guess," I said. "If you must." "Cody says hi," she told me. "He and his mom have been here every day. Carrie spent every day up here but they wouldn't let anyone stay the night. Mom and Elizabeth have been here every evening. I always thought I'd seen Mom as mad as she was capable of. Believe me, I learned better. That fuck-head doctor was a ass to me." "Sweetie," I said. "Please." Kasey sighed. "Well he was," she said. "And he is. Anyway, by the time Mom, Carrie and Elizabeth was done with him his cockiness dropped a level. But you should have seen it when Cody caught up with him. Cody was going to kick his butt, Dad. His Mom had to stop him. I was going to let him. I was going to help him." Paul knocked softly on the door and Kasey gave me another kiss on the cheek. "Don't you ever leave me, Daddy," she said through her tears. I kissed her forehead and she left after stopping at the door to wave. I saw her give Fitz another hug when she walked out. ------- Chapter 25 It was later that evening before I was moved to a private room. It seems the wrong level of anesthesia was used during the surgery and that caused more problems for me than Lemons' knife had. Still, I got three solid days of sleep out of the deal and my body got three solid days of restful healing. That rest came to a halt as soon as I was in a room by myself. Before the nurse had even finished fluffing my pillow I had a roomful of people. Paul and his wife brought Mark in for a moment. He couldn't climb on me like he usually does and he looked worried. Causing worry for my 5-year-old son was another reason I had to hate Robert Lemons. I smiled at Mark as broadly as I could. "Champ," I said brightly. "How's my boy?" He shrugged and I saw tears in his eyes. "They said some man hurt you," he said. "He did hurt me," I told him. "But I'll be as good as new soon. The doctor tells me it will take longer for my arm to heal than anything else. You and I will be playing on the swings in no time." He still looked worried so I had Paul set him on the edge of my bed. "Champ," I said. "Have I ever lied to you?" Mark shook his head. "Well, I'm going to be fine," I said. "I'll be home in a couple of days and you and I will have to be a little more careful when we do things. But we will do the exact some things we always have." Mark brightened a little bit. "Mommy said the bad man was going to hurt Carrie," he said. I could detect a bit of anger in his voice. I hoped he didn't blame Carrie for what happened to me. "He was, Buddy," I said. "But it wasn't Carrie's fault I got hurt." "It was the bad man's fault," Mark said with assurance. "But your Daddy hurt the bad man more than the bad man hurt your Daddy," Paul said. "And the bad man will never be able to hurt Carrie or your Daddy ever again. How does that sound?" Mark looked up at my friend. "Good," he said. "I like Carrie. And I love my Daddy." "I love you, too," I told him. "As much as I love anything in this world. I love you." He put his tiny hand on mine. "I know," he said with a smile. I was still enjoying the brief moment with my son when the rest of the group arrived en masse. Carrie, Kelly, Kasey and Elizabeth trooped in. Then a woman I recognized but had never met formally. Kelly and Elizabeth had tears in their eyes when they saw me. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet but I didn't think I'd gotten that much uglier in the a few days. It turned out that I hadn't but that I smacked the side of my face pretty hard on a tree during my fall. It didn't hurt much so I hadn't noticed. But my eye was black. "You did very well protecting your girls," Elizabeth said as she patted my sore arm. "But you did not do so well protecting yourself." I could only nod. "You didn't include that part," I said. "You said to take care of them. You didn't mention that I should take care of myself." Elizabeth laughed. "I told you to take care of yourself," Kelly said. "But you never listen to me anyhow." "I'll start," I said. "It sounds like good advice. I hear you and Elizabeth are a two-woman wrecking crew when it comes to taking care of me." Kelly blushed but Elizabeth nodded. "Carrie needed to focus on you," Kelly answered. "She had better things to worry about than petty hospital bureaucracy and arrogant doctors." "Thank you, Kelly," I said sincerely. "And thank you, Elizabeth. It's very nice to know that I have you on my side. It means a great deal to me." "And to me," Carrie said. Kasey just nodded and hugged her mother. "Mike, this is Josie Ayres," Kelly said. "I want her to talk to you about the mistake that doctor made." I looked up at the woman whose face graced a dozen billboards in the area. She seemed smaller than what I expected. "It didn't kill me so I'm not sure what there is to talk about," I said. "A lot if you want to pursue it," Josie said as she stepped forward. "I think it is more a matter of the way the hospital treated your family and giving them peace of mind. There is no doubt that Dr. Ericson was negligent. He ordered twice the amount of anesthesia as necessary and he overruled the anesthesiologist when she corrected him. One of the doctors who was attending told Kelly about how much difficulty they had awakening you after surgery. It normally takes an hour or so. You were unconscious for almost 3 days because of his mistake. Just because it wasn't fatal doesn't mean it won't be next time." I saw four female heads bobbing in my direction. "Then to make matters worse he blamed the mistake on someone else," Josie continued. "I am not the type who sues for just the thrill of it and I get the impression that you aren't either. He purposefully put his mistake on someone else to cover his own ass. The hospital refuses to take action on the matter and has even refused to remove him from your case. Kelly had your power-of-attorney and she has initiated a civil suit on your behalf. She did that solely to force the hospital to remove you from his care. Now that you are awake and lucid, you can rescind the lawsuit — although I had to get a court order this afternoon to force the hospital to take action." I shook my head. "What a clusterfuck," I said. "What in the hell happened? Why does everything have to be this difficult and why do people cover their asses instead of admitting they screwed up? Offer to rescind the lawsuit against the hospital if the guy is fired and the AMA is notified. I survived his mistake. So I'm not worried about that. But he was a dick to my daughter and for that I'll have his ass. Plus he is an arrogant little bastard who needs his ass kicked. If the hospital wants to play rough, play rough back. Hell, you know this stuff better than I do. Do what you need to and coordinate with Kelly and Carrie. Kelly is used to making decisions for me and Carrie probably needs the practice." Josie simply nodded her head. "You know you I always pictured you as taller," I said. Josie giggled. "I'm 20 foot tall on those billboards," she said. "That's 15 feet taller than I am in real life. I get that a lot. So for now, at least until you're out of here, the suit against the hospital is on hold. The court order will keep Doctor Arrogant from having any say in your care. I'll offer the hospital the deal you offered so long as I get a written statement from the AMA that Dr. Ericson is reprimanded." "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Now, when can I get out of here." "Mike, you were stabbed in the heart," Carrie said. "Your lung was punctured. You lost 18 percent of your blood volume. Plus you were unconscious for 41 hours." "What's your point?" I asked. Carrie smiled and shook her head. "My point is that it will be a day or so, I would imagine," she said. "I would guess somewhat longer than that. And you will stay in your bed and do exactly as you are told until they tell you that you can go home safely. I'm invoking New Year's Day rules here, Mister." "Yes, Ma'am," I said. "I'll be good. Did you call about the house?" Carrie's mouth dropped. "No, Mike," she said. "I did not call about the house. I had a few things on my mind while you were sleeping." "Oh," I said. "OK. Well, maybe you should do that tomorrow." "It can wait," Carrie said. "What house?" Kelly asked. I had figured that Kasey had filled her mother in. "Oh, Carrie and I looked at a house the other day," I said. "It's a nice one. I just wanted to make sure that Lemons doesn't disrupt our lives more than he has. Sorry." All eyes shifted to Carrie. "I'll call in the morning," she said with a smile. I winked at her and she blew me a kiss. "So you're moving in together?" Kelly asked. "Uh, you know, we already live together," I mentioned. "I thought that was short-term," she said with a blush. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business." "Well, you have children together," Carrie said. "That makes Mike's living arrangements your business. But yes, we are planning to make things more permanent. He and I are planning to buy a house together. I'll take you, Mark and Kasey with me when I look at the inside of it. It's just in the preliminary stages as far as this particular house but our plan is to be together for quite a while." Kelly nodded. "Thanks, Carrie," she said. "I guess it is my business but I know Mike well enough to know that he would never put the kids in danger. If Kasey and Mark want to go with you then they can. But I don't need to see if it is appropriate. If Mike is willing for the kids to stay there then I'm sure it won't be a box under the bridge." Kasey laughed and shook her head. "No, Mom," she said. "Not a box under a bridge. It's a beautiful house in Bunner's Woods." "Bunner's Woods?" Kelly asked. "Mike, how can you afford Bunner's Woods?" "I can't," I said. "Hell, I can't afford to even drive through Bunner's Woods. Carrie, on the other hand, can afford it. I'm just baggage she totes so she can hang out with you and the kids." I saw that Carrie was going to smack me but she stopped herself and covered her mouth. "I almost, I," she said as she started to cry. "Just don't hit my arm or my chest," I said. "I think everything else is still fair game. Or better yet, I get a free pass to be a, what was the word you used the other day, Kasey, douche-nozzle for a while." Kasey turned red as everyone turned their gaze to her. "Kasey," Kelly said harshly. I broke out in laughter. "Listen folks, I don't mean to run you off," I said. "I love you all — well, not Josie but if she gets me millions of dollars I might. I love the rest of you but I'm tired. You are free to hang out in the room but I think I'm going to sleep for a while." I said my goodbyes and they started to leave. I clasped Carrie's hand as she turned to leave with them. "Not you," I said. "You I'd dearly like to stay for a while." "I'll walk them out and come back," she said. "Can you stay awake for that long?" "I'll try," I promised. It was a promise I couldn't keep. Hell, I was probably asleep before they reached the elevator. ------- I awoke to find Carrie sleeping in the chair next to my bed. She looked as uncomfortable as hell. I reached out to stroke her hair. I didn't mean to wake her up but she wasn't sleeping very deeply and my coordination was still a little off. "Do you need something, hon?" she asked as she jumped to her feet. "Do I need to call the nurse?" I shook my head and smiled sleepily at her. "Sorry I fell asleep," I whispered. "I should have just stayed," she answered sadly. "I'm sorry I didn't." "I didn't expect you to stay here all night," I said. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you. When I first woke up yesterday and you were beside me, it was a load off my mind. It took me a few minutes to piece everything together but I was glad you were safe. Then I remembered Kasey was there, too. I'm sorry if I freaked you out. That's all I wanted to say last night. Why don't you go home and rest?" Carrie shook her head. "I'd rather be here," she said. "I think this might be as far away from you as I want to be for a while." "Are you doing OK?" I asked. "Me?" she wondered. "Yeah, I'm good now that you're awake." That wasn't what I meant. "Hon, I heard his leg snap in the house," she said. "I knew when I opened that door that I was no longer in danger." "It might have been his leg or it might have been me falling on my ass," I told her. "That's what I get for not shoveling the walk. Serves me right." I shook my head. "I never even saw the knife," I said. "I saw he had pepper spray or something like it in his right hand. I came around the side of the house. I was pissed off. I mean royally pissed off. When I planted my left foot to swing the golf club at him my foot went right out from under me. It's probably a good thing it did. I'm not sure I would have stopped hitting him with it." "They found the club face almost 15 yards away," Carrie informed me. "You hit him so hard it snapped right off. If you would had a baseball bat, Paul said the doctors might have had to amputate his leg. You couldn't have done any more damage to him than we did." "I did," I said. "I never want your or Kasey to ever mention what happened afterward. There is too much to lose if someone hears it." Carrie appeared chastened. "I agree," she said. "Paul brought Kasey and I with you to the hospital. He got there just after it happened. He was thinking from the outset. Well, as soon as he saw Kasey. He put the golf club shaft in with us and raced here. I was sure you were dead, Mike. You were bleeding so much." "I thought I was dead, too," I told her. "That's what I meant when I told you I was sorry. I was sorry that I wasn't going to get to live the rest of my life with you. I was never going to walk Kasey down the aisle. I thought I just cracked a rib when that fat fucker fell on me. Then I couldn't roll over. It hurt too much. I was going to beat that fucker to death with my bare hands. When I stood up, well, I guess you saw everything after that. So Lemons really got fucked up, huh?" Carrie smiled gamely and reached into her purse for her cell phone. "Paul e-mailed me these," she said as she opened it up and pulled up some photos. Lemons' face looked like raw hamburger. He had bruises just about everywhere a person could bruise on his upper torso. His left leg was a mess. The bone poked through the skin just above the back of his knee. The kicker was his nutsack. It looked like he was trying to smuggle an orange where his balls used to be. "Did you get one or both?" I asked. "Just one," she said. "The other one will survive. Not that he will ever get to use it for procreation. Can we talk about something else?" "Sure," I replied. "I just wanted to apologize for putting you through this. What do you want to talk about?" "How about baby names?" she said. "Uh, are you sure?" I asked. "No, not at all," she said. "I should start in the next couple of days but I don't feel like I normally do." "Well, there could be a number of reasons for that," I said. "I mean, it's been a pretty shitty month for you." "It's been a pretty fantastic month, too," she said. "Don't forget that." "Parts of it I'm sure you could do without," I joked. "I can say that every month," she replied. "For as crappy as everything else has been, I'm still as happy as I've ever been. We're through the worst part. The rest is all coasting." I smiled at my sweetheart. "I don't want you spending every minute here," I said. "Hang out with Kasey and the rest of the group. I'm planning to sleep a hell of a lot." "I will," she said. "But I'm going to be here, too. I want to show you something else. Elizabeth gave it to me when I walked them outside." I was a copy of my paper from the day after the attack. "You got your photo in the paper on the 1st and 4th," Carrie joked. "Elizabeth said that was a major no-no in your book but she hoped you would be willing to forgive them." The headline was a bit misleading but I supposed they used the police report. "Paper Exec Nabs Fugitive, Thwarts 2nd Abduction," the paper blared in 55 point type across the top of the page. "You have people singing your praises," Carrie whispered in my ear. "I don't want you to get a swelled head but you're my hero. I can't believe you did that for me. I can't tell you how warm it makes me feel to know that you love me and that you'll protect me. I've told you that I don't want you to think I can't take care of myself. I can take care of myself but knowing that you'll take care of me too is a wonderful feeling." "Looks like you did a good job of taking care of me, too," I answered. "We'll take care of each other and together we'll take care of the kids. So, what do you want — a boy or a girl?" "Both," Carrie giggled. "A boy and a girl and maybe another boy and another girl. If we can't have them all I still want to practice making them." I couldn't help but smile — although at the time I would be just as happy to have the catheter out as anything. "So what about names?" I asked. "Well, if it is a boy, I would like to name him after our Dads," she said. "My Dad was named William. How about yours?" "Steven," I replied. "William Steven Cavenaugh," Carrie repeated. "I like it. Do you want to name a girl after your mother?" I shook my head. "Irma," I said. "No. That is one name that won't be repeated." "How about her middle name?" she wondered. I shook my head again. "Louise," I said. "Jesus, did your grandparents hate her?" Carrie asked. "No," I replied. "They had this stupid idea of naming her after their parents." "Ouch," she said. "So what girls' names do you like?" I thought for a minute. "Courtney," I said. "There goes the alliteration again," Carrie answered. "How about names that don't start with a C or a K?" "What fun is that?" I said. "Plenty," she replied. "We'll go down the alphabet and each give a name per letter. How does that sound?" By the time we hit "F" I had realized something: Carrie had no idea what constituted a good name for a girl. By "M" I figured out that her favorite names for girls had something in common. "What's with the stripper names?" I pondered. "Ariel, Desiree, Faith, Jenna and Mercedes. Those are either stripper or porn star names." Carrie sat and I could see her blush even in the dim light. "My God, you're right!" she said with chagrin. "Something you want to tell me?" I wondered in a light voice. "Do you plan to live vicariously through our children? Or do all the people you respect work in the sex industry?" "Neither," she said. "Perhaps you've always wanted to be a stripper or a porn star," I said in my best psychologist voice. I was shooting for Sigmund Freud but I think it came out more like Sgt. Shultz. "I'll be your stripper or porn star," Carrie said in a sultry voice. "Stop," I said urgently. "I still have a catheter in. It is not the most comfortable thing for me." "Sorry, Baby," Carrie said. "Maybe that will come out today. You should rest some more." I knew she was right but I felt like I missed three days of life while sleeping. "I suppose," I groused. "I will if you will. You need rest, too. You looked so tired today. That was the other thing I planned to talk to you about. I'm going to need you to hold yourself and Kasey together and to look after Mark. Kelly is on a crusade. In the past that meant I got to spend a lot of time with the kids for awhile. Taking care of those two takes a lot of energy, believe me. Can you do that for me?" "Of course I will," Carrie said as she patted my hand softly. "You know I will." I smiled as warmly as I knew how. "I know you will," I said. "You're the best, Carrie. If you ever wondered how far I trust you, now you know. I trust you with the things I love most — you and my kids." I saw tears on Carrie's cheeks as she leaned in to kiss my cheek. "As soon as you're cleared, Mr. Cavenaugh, I plan to show you how much you mean to me," she whispered softly. "Sleep well, Mike. And pleasant dreams." The last words I heard before I fell asleep was Carrie telling me that she loved me. ------- Chapter 26 It was six days later — a full 10 days after the attack — when I finally was wheeled out of the hospital. I've never consider myself to be particular fortunate. I've bought lottery tickets and to the best of my recollection, I've never won more than $2. I have never put too much faith in anything besides skill. But I can say without reserve that I am a lucky man. I am lucky that I didn't die from own stupidity or the stupidity of others. I easily could have expired from either one. My heart was strong enough that it didn't stop when it was nicked by a knife. I had never smoked and my good lung was strong enough to provide sufficient oxygen to the rest of my body. I'm lucky that I landed in the snow which not only cushioned my fall but also cooled my body quickly enough that my heart rate decreased to the point I didn't bleed to death or lose so much blood that my body was impaired. I am lucky that I had a friend like Paul Fitzgerald who was willing to risk his livelihood not only for my sake but for the sake of those I hold dear. I'm lucky that I have friends like Kelly and Elizabeth who were willing to fight fiercely for my well-being and to make sure those who took my health so lightly were held accountable. I am lucky that I have two wonderful children who genuinely love me and whom I genuinely love. My little buddy, Mark, spent as much time with me in the hospital as he was permitted. He shared his accomplishments with me and he made me several things I proudly displayed in my room. He and Kasey became the darlings of the floor with their sweet and gentle nature. Kasey took it upon herself to distribute the floral arrangements to others on the floor and she found a couple of older women with whom she spent several hours reliving their lives as their final hours approached. I was glad that both women were still alive when I was discharged so Kasey didn't have to face the loss. Still, in the next month she attended two funerals for the friends she found on the cardiac care unit. I worried about her but she seemed to come away from the experience better than she went in. Then there was Carrie. She was by my side constantly during the days and asked several questions of the medical staff that had never occurred to me but were of vital interest to me. She took care of my children when necessary and she and Kasey seemed to find a happy medium between friend and authority figure. She took care of insurance questions and she handled taking care of mundane things such as cleaning the house, doing laundry and buying groceries. Mostly she let me know exactly how she felt about me. One look would be all it took. I think the same was true for me. There was no doubt about how we felt about each other. It wasn't infatuation. It wasn't adoration. It wasn't a crush. It wasn't something that wavered. It wasn't something that faded. I thought I had rebuilt my life in the five years since Kelly and I divorced. I thought I had everything I needed to ensure my happiness. I had my children. I had my career. I had time for myself and my hobbies. I was happy. I can say without reservation that even before I met Carrie, I was happy. But I can say with equal certainty that I was happier after I met her — far happier. In a couple short weeks, Carrie became the other half of my life. I finally understood what my father and my mother felt when they looked at the other. I finally knew what people meant when they talked about soul mates. One look, one simple glance, was all it took to send my pulse racing. Her smile could make me weak in the knees. Her kiss gave me butterflies in my stomach. Her tears sent a lance through my heart — even if I hadn't caused the tears. I wanted to build the rest of my life around the woman. Surprisingly, Carrie wanted to build the rest of her life around me. So we did. ------- Carrie and I closed on the house earlier than what we expected. The bank had done all the legal legwork to ensure that there no further liens against the property. The previous owners had pretty much cleaned out anything worth having and the bank did the rest. The inspector we hired told us the electric and plumbing was in good shape and the water heater and the windows were almost new. Six weeks after I left the hospital we moved into our new home. A true friendship developed between Carrie and Kelly, which struck me as odd but which I couldn't deny. They both were determined, intelligent women and it seemed that their relationship became more like sisters than anything else. At least Kelly finally had a sister she could stand. Kasey went off to college — but she didn't go far. She moved into the apartment above the garage on the day after she graduated high school. She has become more independent and less of a pain in my ass over the past couple of years. In fact, I grow prouder of her every day. She took a part time job because she insisted on paying rent and helping with the utilities on "her" apartment. I wanted to say that it wasn't necessary but Carrie and Kelly each shot me a look that let me know that I was better off staying silent. I did manage to steer Kasey away from journalism as a major. The job market was drying up fast and there is little long-term future for the newspaper industry. I hope it lasts long enough for me to retire but I doubt it. I'll be OK. With what Carrie makes and after the settlement from the hospital's negligence, it'll be a while before I eat Ramen noodles again. Kasey is studying architecture and graphic design. She still brings her boyfriends over to meet her father — and Carrie — before each first date. And she still gives me a little extra butt wiggle when we spend time at the pool together. Kelly surprised us all shortly after Kasey started at the university where Kelly teaches. She sold her house and moved. At least she didn't move to Arkansas or Arizona. Nope, she moved next door to us. I was mortified until I realized that Mark could safely ride his bicycle from her yard to ours every day. I can honestly say that I spent more time with Kelly during the first year of my marriage to Carrie than I did in the last three years of my marriage to Kelly. Oh, yeah, Carrie and I got married. It was a short courtship but we decided we wanted our daughter to be brought into a married family. We had a short civil ceremony just after Valentine's Day but a big formal wedding the first weekend in June. Our first night as husband and wife was also our first night in our new home. We christened it as Carrie promised me that we would. Kasey and Kelly were bridesmaids and Elizabeth served as Matron of Honor at the formal ceremony. Elizabeth and Kelly were our witnesses for the legal version. Carrie's mother was invited to attend both but chose to attend neither. I guess it was just as well because Elizabeth, although only 15 years older than me, had become the de facto mother to us all. The Dragon Lady retired from the paper and I've never replaced her. There is no one who could do her job as well as she did so I knew I would be disappointed with whomever I hired. Instead I handle it myself — and I'm still disappointed. In truth, Elizabeth got caught up in budget cuts. I had to shave 4 percent off my budget and she graciously offered to take the fall instead of two young writers that I had reluctantly chosen. She didn't need the money, she told us. She only worked to stay young. So now she stays young by helping out Carrie's business and playing aunt to the children. But don't you dare call her "Grandma!" I hope I can talk her into moving into the apartment above the garage if Kasey ever leaves — although I'm not certain if Kasey will ever live anywhere else. Mark is still Mark. He is a boy who loves life and life loves him right back. He laughs and plays with abandon and he is surrounded by so many people who think the world of him that he simply radiates joy to all those who meet him. His grades are stellar and he is becoming a very good competitive swimmer. I had hoped for a team sport (sorry, folks, although they give you a team score, swimming is an individual sport — like golf and gymnastics). Mark still plays Little League baseball and he and I kick a soccer ball around a lot. I'm glad Mark doesn't mind running after my horrible kicks. He is also a ferocious fighter if he sees someone hurting someone else. The only trouble we've had from him is the two times he has taken on bullies in someone else's defense. He got his butt kicked both times but he put enough of a hurting on the bigger boys that the bullying stopped. I'm not so certain that isn't a good quality so although I gave him the requisite warning about fighting, I also signed him up for martial arts classes. He and Carrie can be seen in the yard practicing during the warm months. Mark's protection extends firmly to my youngest child. I worried that Mark would think I loved him less or that I wanted to do less with him than we always had. My worries were unfounded. Carrie delivered a baby girl a week before Kasey's 18th birthday in September. Our little one is just gaining her own personality but she has her own personal plaything in Mark who spends as much time giggling and blowing raspberries on her tummy as anyone. Every time I see the way the kids react to each other my heart almost bursts with pride. There is no doubt that our little girl will grow up in a house full of love. I can't wait until my young daughter, Quinn, will ask either her brother, Mark, or her sister, Kasey, about how her father met her mother. Or maybe the question will come from the little bundle growing in Carrie's belly now. I hope they bring her to sit on my lap — and I hope both of them sit as close to me as they can when I tell the story. I also hope that my loving wife, my loving ex-wife and my loving surrogate mother will be nearby. "It all started when your Aunt Kelly needed a favor," I'll say. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2009-12-04 Last Modified: 2009-12-22 / 09:16:31 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------