Sparring Partners

by Leigh Morgan

  "You are a good man." She walked away before he could respond.

  Was he a good man? He didn't know. He knew he wanted to be, but for the first time, he didn't have a clear path marked out to make it so. He had no idea where to go from here. He had no job, no goal to achieve, no purpose beyond becoming the man Reed, Irma and now Finn thought he was, and holding Reed's hand every step of the way.

  Right after he washed the sadness of death from his skin, he was going to find his family. He needed to find Reed. He needed to find his heart.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  ...This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.

  I don't plan it.

  When I'm outside the saying of it,

  I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

  Rumi,~13th Century

  Jesse was on his fourth Mountain Dew as he watched all the fake people talking about fake things, as they wandered about in their bubbles of superiority. They didn't know the first thing about how tough life can be, if they did, they wouldn't act like such idiots.

  He was sure Reed would take him to task for painting them all with what she'd call the same wide brush, but as far as he could see and hear, most of them fit the bill. All they did was try to out talk each other. For the women, it was diamonds, furs, and trips to the Med. For the men, it was boats, cognac, and how much they didn't have to pay in taxes last year.

  Losers, one and all. He especially hated the 'pretty boys' his age, who didn't tug on their tuxedos, and who knew which fork to use when the table was set with four of them. Who needed four forks? There wasn't even one girl here who talked to him, not one. Apparently, he didn't smell rich enough, which was a joke, considering Jordon, his step-father, was one of the top five richest men in the world, according to people who keep lists of that kind of thing. Apparently no one here expected that relationship to last.

  That was another thing he hated about these people. Their rumors and their lists. They rated everything from restaurants and boats to how rich they were. No one seemed to give a damn about anything they've done, just about how much they had in their pockets, and who they were seen with.

  "Hey slugger. Take it easy on that. You know how I feel about high fructose corn syrup. Mixed with high doses of caffeine, it's even worse." His mother's voice calmed him. So did the quick hug she gave that he half-heartedly returned.

  "Okay Gilbert-Grape, what's eating you? You're tight enough to snap." She took his soda away, handed it to the bartender and asked for a water. She handed him a bottle of water taken from glacial ice or some other remote and exotic location. He looked at it, shook his head and downed the contents in five long swallows.

  "Ten dollars worth of water, gone in less than five seconds." He said.

  "If it's not the water that's burning your butter, what is it? I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." Reed said, her tone echoing the concern in her eyes.

  "You can't fix it, mom, and it's not worth talking about." Jesse said, feeling guilty for worrying Reed when she had enough to deal with, making excuses for Jordon's non-appearance. Wow, the gossip mongers were sure loving that.

  "Sorry." He said. "I'm not trying to stress you out."

  Read laughed and he smiled. He loved to hear his mother laugh. She grabbed his hand and led him to the table where Charlie, Sensei Schwartz and Thorson sat waiting for them. Shay wandered around, taking his role as Reed's security, seriously. He was never far away, and never too close that rumors circulated about him. He was good at being an invisible threat.

  "You don't stress me out, Jesse. You are my son. Strong, funny, a little too quiet, but then, you're surrounded with women who love to talk." She linked her arm in his and Jesse was amazed at just how little she was, even in high heels. When he first met her he'd have sworn she was six feet tall. Now, he knew that was just Reed. She might be little, but her spirit was a great and powerful thing.

  He may have loomed over her, but she was comfortable at his side as she leaned into his arm and smiled. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown. I love you. You're the best thing I ever did."

  His heart flipped in his chest at her words and the fact that she truly believed them. He'd lost one family in his life, but he was never going to lose this one, the one that chose him. He could feel himself blush and he didn't care. No one was watching him anyway, although all eyes seemed to follow his mother, tongues wagging right behind.

  He guided her to the table, relived that for the time-being no one else joined them. He could use some friendly faces and friendly conversation. Charlie, who looked scholarly and elegant in his tux, stood and gave him a quick hug.

  "You look quite dapper, Jesse. I saw some of the young ladies stealing looks." Charlie winked at him.

  "Not the right kind of looks, Charlie, but thanks."

  "You wash up good, kid."

  "Thanks, Sensei. So do you." Sensei grinned at him and held up a glass with some sort of whisky, in silent salute.

  Not to be left out, Thorson added his two cents. "You look almost as striking as your mother."

  Jesse rolled his eyes, but Reed got a kick of it, inclining her head regally toward Thorson. "Thank you, kind sir." Then, she batted her eye lashes at him while fanning herself dramatically. "To be compared with such utter masculine beauty nearly steals my breath away." She said, in a completely over-the-top Scarlet O'Hara accent.

  Jesse held her chair out for her and tried not to laugh. "Okay, mom. You made your point. Angry funk is officially over."

  "What's put a bee in your bonnet, kid?" Sensei asked with his usual directness.

  A chime sounded and everyone took their seats in response, like cows lining up for the feeding trough after the bell's rung. A conditioned response to a signal no one but the cows and the rich and famous knew. Jesse smirked at his own wit, pleased he didn't have to respond to Sensei's question.

  Dinner was beginning.

  Still no sign of Jordon.

  Jesse gritted his teeth.

  Salad was served first. Then some sort of flavored ice. Then some tiny grapes and a small piece of warm cheese with a zig-zag line of some sticky red sauce, on a plate five times bigger than necessary, considering there wasn't enough food on it to satisfy a gerbil. At this rate, he was going to starve to death before dinner was actually served.

  Sensei leaned over and whispered in his ear, "We'll sneak out for pizza as soon as these blowhards stop talking."

  Jesse's stomach rumbled in response and he resisted the urge to lick his plate. The sideways glances sent to their table were embarrassing enough, he didn't need to add to them.

  Between each miniature course, another person got up to speak. The speeches were all the same. How great Jordon was. How lucky, or devious, his mother was to land such a catch. Yada, Yada, Yada. He'd had his fill by the time the chilled yogurt soup arrived. Who ate yogurt soup and miniature grapes and one piece of cheese covered in red goo anyway?

  And, where in the hell was Mr. Wonderful?

  Nowhere. That's where.

  Still, his mother was here, taking their crap and smiling.

  Before he knew what was happening, Jesse was on his feet. Worse than that, his mouth was working and he had no idea what he was saying. His voice was calm and steady, pleasant even, as he listened to himself speak from somewhere outside of himself. Never had this happened to him before.

  "Excuse me. I've been listening to all of you speak about my step-father and my mother, for three days now. You all seem to know Jordon. I thought I knew him pretty well too, but the man I know is not the man you describe. The Jordon I know plants gardens, cuts grass, and fixes things that need fixing. He's funny, he's honest, and the only time he cares about money is when he's trying to figure a way to make Potters Woods more efficient. I've never heard him talk about the benefits of teak versus mimosa rubbed mahogany as trim for yachts. The Jordon I know wouldn't give a shit."

  The feigned outrage at his language made him smile, Lily's not-so-subtle thumbs up si
gn made him stand taller.

  "It's also quite clear to me that none of you took the time to get to know my mother at all. If you had, you'd see that it's Jordon who's lucky to have her." He looked at his mother, who sat there at the table with a quiet dignity and a glimmer of pride in her eyes. She didn't try to stop him, for which he was grateful. Charlie winked at him, and Jesse started again, looking from table to table.

  "Had any of you bothered to open your minds, you would have seen a woman who is gracious and kind. She's certainly been kinder to all of you than you deserve. She's funny and warm, and she can carry on a conversation about more than just designers and diamonds."

  "While all of you look around and only see what you've got, compared with everyone else in the room, my mom looks at what she's done. And she's done a hell of a lot. She's made the lives of everyone at this table better. She and my aunt started a home for the aged, where everyone is treated with dignity and respect, and gets the care their bodies and their spirits need."

  Jesse felt Sensei standing beside him. Charlie and Thorson were standing too. Shay came and stood on the opposite side of Reed while two more people joined them. Since they were directly behind him, and he didn't turn, he didn't get to see who it was. Jesse was on a roll, and he didn't seem to be able to stop.

  "My mother, this woman you see and look right through because she doesn't fit in your world, does more than write checks to charity. My mother saves people. She actually makes their lives better. That's who she is. Jordon saw that, and that's why he married her. That's why he loves her. He's not the man you all seem to think he is. He's better than that. He's just like my mom, that's why they're so good together. I'm just glad he hasn't been here to see you all look right past her. My guess is, if he had been, he'd be choosing new friends."

  Jesse felt two strong hands on his shoulders, startling him.

  "It appears that my son speaks more eloquently than I do. Thank you all for coming. I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you today, but there was a family emergency which required my immediate attention. Please stay and enjoy your dinner. I'm taking my family home."

  Jordon spun Jesse around and enveloped him in a strong hug that took his breath away. "I'm proud of you, Jesse. I hope you will let me call you my son. I know Charlie calls you son too. Maybe we can take turns."

  Jesse didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing, and hugged Jordon back as hard as he could.

  "Come on guys, let's go home."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  ...Intellect and compassion are ladders we climb,

  and there are other ladders as we walk

  the night hearing a voice that talks of forgiveness...

  Rumi,~13th Century

  Irma's funeral was supposed to be a small ceremony, family for the most part, some friends she'd made from day programming, and others from church who wished to pay their respects. Most everyone in town knew Irma, and as crotchety as she could be, most everyone liked her.

  There was a small announcement in the Burlington Press giving the time, date and location. They asked the minister from Irma's church to come along with the pagan priestess who Irma enjoyed intellectually sparing with when she held workshops on the grounds. Peter was there too, just in case a bit of Buddhism or Zen was needed. All in all, it was to be an eclectic service of joy for a life long and well lived. Not a long, formal, or fussy ceremony. Irma hated fussy. What she wanted was her ashes swimming with the fishes, and her family seeing the deed done.

  Just in case they underestimated the number of people who may attend, Reed and Finn ordered food for fifty, thinking they could always donate the leftovers to the woman's shelter.

  The morning of the funeral celebration, exactly one week from the day she died in Jordon's arms on the pier, dawned temperate and clear. It was warm, but a cool easterly breeze flowed through the air, sounding the large wind chimes in the meadow near the pond, sending resonate vibrations through Reed and Finn as they set the food out in preparation, large screened covers keeping deerhounds, cats and bugs out of the breakfast fare until the service was complete.

  They planned for twenty-five, bought food for fifty, and by the time the service began more than five hundred people made their way into the meadow, with more coming.

  "Henry, calm down." Henry spun around when Reed touched his arm, tapping his right ear as he spun toward her.

  "Copy that." He wasn't talking to her but to one, or all, of the men he had stationed in the crowd. "Don't sneak up on me Reed, especially when I'm working."

  Reed rolled her eyes. "You're always working. And I don't sneak. I do however have a plan to save you from having a heart-attack and joining Irma."

  "Let's hear it."

  He was humoring her, and she knew it.

  "You've got twenty men, right?"

  "Yes. Not nearly enough. Not with this crowd."

  "So don't worry about the crowd. Shay's here, so are William's men. Put all the family in one spot and do your pit-bull routine on us. You can protect us much more easily if we're all together. Right?"

  "That would be true if you and that hard-headed aunt of yours stayed put."

  "Will you calm down if we do?" Reed asked.

  "Yes."

  "Fine." Reed looked over Henry's shoulder at Finn and tapped her own right ear.

  "Mission accomplished. Junk yard dog with the program, over."

  "Copy that." Came Finn's reply, right behind Henry.

  "Cute. Very cute ladies. If this weren't a funeral, I'd take you both over my knee."

  "Irma would get a kick out of seeing you try." Finn said, kissing her husband. "Go ahead, give it your best shot."

  Shay came up and took both women by the hand and led them down to the pier where Jordon, Jesse and Charlie were waiting to spread Irma's ashes. "If you ladies will come with me-" he glowered at Reed, "-and stay with me until this is over, we can begin."

  "You look very nice in your suit, Shay." Finn said.

  "Flattery will not keep me from doing my job, no matter how beautiful the woman is." Shay responded.

  "Stop flirting with my wife, O'Shay, or we'll be doing more than a few rounds in the ring when this is over." Henry said.

  "Copy that, boss."

  ...

  The ceremony was lovely. Jordon didn't cry, he'd save that for dusk, when he and the rest of his family said their private goodbyes to Irma. Reed and Finn buzzed efficiently all week, settling as much of Irma's estate as possible. As it turned out, she left most of her money, and she had a lot, to Potters Woods in trust. Some went to her church, some to the pagan church, and the rest, over half a million dollars, went to Jesse.

  The kid was stunned. But that was Irma, unpredictable, always stirring the pot, and unfailingly generous to those who least expected it.

  Every person Lily invited to the cottage for Jordon and Reed's reception last weekend appeared. Jordon chose to believe that most came because they had a change of heart after Jesse's impromptu speech. He wasn't naive enough though to believe that's why they all came.

  Regardless of their motives for coming, they were generous in their donations to the 'MacDonald Fund for Wellness', one of his mother's friends started in honor of Irma, after news spread that Irma's death was the reason Jordon missed his own wedding reception. Reed and Finn were named as the trustees of the fund, and donations totaled more than three-million dollars.

  Not bad for one cranky old lady he called friend.

  No one stayed long, even though Reed insisted on having additional food delivered for everyone. By noon, there were only a handful of people left, and most of them were family. Every line in the guest book was signed, and additional signatures colored the back cover. Jordon planned to put the book in a shadow box, with a gilt frame, in his office which was going to be added to the main house immediately.

  He needed to focus on something now that he didn't have a job. Building an office seemed like a logical place to start. What he was going to do there once he
had the damned thing built, he hadn't a clue, but that was a worry for a different day.

  Today was a day to set worry aside and focus on keeping his promise.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  The phone rang, startling Jordon. He rolled over and checked the clock, 5:30a.m. Monday morning. What concerned him more than the time, or the fact that this was the first Monday he hadn't been employed since he was a teenager, was the fact that the caller I.D. told him it was his old office calling. Not just B.H.'s headquarters, or the Milwaukee office, his former office number. The one he'd kept until last week Friday when the Takahara deal was formally signed, sealed, and delivered.

  He didn't even have time yet to clear out his desk. Not that there was much to clear. All he really wanted from his old life was the cowboy and the little girl holding a daisy sculpture his father completed the year he died, and the framed photo of him and his grands at Jenny Lake.

  Death and hope. Until he left, only death haunted his dreams. Now, hope was present, dominant, even, easing his journey. Now he had a family.

  He picked up the phone. "This had better be good."

  "Something got lost in translation, buddy."

  "It certainly did. In case you didn't notice, Jay, that's not my name on the door any more. Hell, man, you're calling from what used to be my office. 'Used to be', being the operative phrase here. What do you want?"

  "To give you the heads up. The Takahara deal already hit the papers. It's online too. Takahara's people are pissed. Everyone's wondering why B.H. and Takahara are building libraries instead of alternative health care communes. I'm trying to fix it, buddy, but I'm afraid it's going to take more than just me. William's pissed too. He wants you to come in." Giles paused, and Jordon knew enough about his old nemesis to know the other shoe was about to drop.