Grace watched as he walked away, stretching his arms, working the kinks out of his neck and shoulders from holding her close.
“Yeah, he’s a keeper,” Silas said. “No disrespect to his dad, but two out of three ain’t bad when it comes to having stellar kids. I don’t know what went wrong with Ben. He never was wired right. Even as a kid, he’d torment cats and dogs, and even his little brother. Alex was always there for Chuck, though. Stepping in, thrashing him like brothers do when someone’s picking on a kid brother. Didn’t make any difference to him whether it was his own brother or a neighbor kid.”
“Why should it?” Papa Doc asked, now awake. “I mean, it was a straightforward case of the big beating on the little. That’s probably one reason Chuck has such a big heart. He didn’t have a younger sibling to protect. He learned how to do it from Alex and transferred that skill to taking care of the poor folks on the other side of town.”
Silas patted Papa Doc on the shoulder. “Now, now. Don’t cut yourself short. You had a little influence on that, too.”
“Are you a real doctor?” Grace asked. “I mean, I thought folks were calling you Papa Dog at first, not Papa Doc.”
Both men laughed. “Yes, I was a doctor. I guess I still am if the need arises. I haven’t practiced in ten years, at least. My health started going downhill, so I decided to slow down. You know, get rid of the stress.”
“Plus, it’s not as if you had to work,” Silas said.
Papa Doc glared at his words, then he relaxed and sat back. “Well, if she’s going to be family, she might as well know. I still have a few bucks stashed away in the Old Money piggy bank. I kept pulling more and more out of it, trying to keep Ben from going under. Alex would put more back in every time he got a chance. It’s not as if it was near empty, but he finally took me aside and explained it so it made sense. Ben would never grow up and take responsibility for his screw-ups if we kept bailing him out. He’d keep sticking his finger in the blades as long as we kept pulling the fan back. We had to walk away so he’d know that if he stuck it in there again, it was going to hurt.”
Chuck walked in on the conversation, ready to add, “Ben’s just an ass,” then decided it was best to stay still. He sat down on the other side of his father and leaned back, trying to make some sense out of how messed up the day had become.
“So, he got mad and decided he’d make Alex pay?” Grace asked. “He not only wanted him to hurt physically but emotionally, too. From what you all have told me, I’m the first real…um…lady friend Alex has had any interest in.”
“Excuse me,” a man in blue scrubs said. “You are the Armstrong’s, right?” he asked.
Chuck sat up straight, then stood up, nodding to the surgeon.
“Oh, hi, Chuck. I didn’t see you there. Shoot! Was Alex your brother?”
“Was?” Grace gasped, then fell back in the chair, glad she hadn’t been standing. She held her hand over her mouth, willing herself not to puke, her breathing slow and deliberate.
“Shit,” the surgeon huffed. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. We did everything we could. He was on a breathing machine. We thought everything was going to be fine, and then his blood pressure went sky high. It was a stroke.”
Chuck focused on his father’s face as the surgeon spoke the words. He’d had a three-second heads-up that Alex had passed. He wasn’t psychic, but he had seen the grief in the doctor’s eyes when he came out, looking for the next of kin. It would have been worse if he had asked everyone into a private room. That would only have prolonged the agony for everyone, including the surgeon.
His father was in shock. They’d better get him to a room right away. He knew he had finished chemo the week before, but he wasn’t totally out of the woods. “Can we get him a bed?” Chuck asked the surgeon, nodding to his father. “I want to make sure he’s doing okay.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go down the hall to the ER. I’ll grab a wheelchair.”
The combination of the two stresses – losing Alex and watching Papa Doc falter before her eyes – was too much. Grace grabbed the trash can next to her and lost her resolve to keep it all together, puking up streams of bile and soda, her shoulders heaving, nose running as she broke down sobbing without caring who saw her.
“Make that a double room and two wheelchairs,” Silas called out, rushing to Grace with a box of tissues.
Chapter 8
Recuperating
Late June 1991
“Are you sure it isn’t the flu?” Grace asked Papa Doc.
“You’re the one who came to me. Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?”
“Yeah, well, you know those things aren’t that accurate,” she said, then sighed in resignation and shook her head. “Now what?”
“Looks like you get to make me a grandpa,” he said.
“But there was one other. I mean, it wasn’t just Alex.”
“You mean Chuck?” he asked, then laughed. “Now that would really be a miracle.”
Grace glared at him, trying to keep her resolve, then giggled at the inside joke. She had been living with Chuck as boyfriend and girlfriend to the outside world, but as brother and sister to those who knew them.
“Ben never got to you, did he?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “Because if he did, I’m gonna whack that spaghetti noodle dick of his off at the base.”
“They wouldn’t let you into prison to do that,” Chuck said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You just didn’t hear me come in.”
“Yes, I did,” Papa Doc said. “She didn’t, though.”
“Little Miss Superwoman ears didn’t hear me? She must have been distracted,” Chuck said, then leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.
Grace grinned at the kiss, then pouted again. “Yes, I was distracted. I think I’m pregnant.”
“Of course, you’re pregnant.”
“What? When did you find out?” she asked.
“Duh! We live in the same house. I empty the trash occasionally, you know.”
“Every day,” Grace said. “You have got to be the cleanest housekeeper I’ve ever known. You could give Sally lessons.”
“Who’s she?”
“She was my nanny growing up. When my mother decided I didn’t need one, she canned her. Dad knew how close I was to her, so he gave her a job as housekeeper and light cook.”
“How do you cook light?” Papa Doc asked, then slapped his knee. “I still got it.”
“Yeah, and I hope I don’t get it,” Silas said. “So, what’s this I hear that I’m gonna be a grandpa?”
“You guys are making this difficult for me,” Grace said in a huff.
“Honey,” Papa Doc said, his hand on hers. “We don’t ever want to make your life difficult. On the contrary. Now, whether I am the biological grandfather of the child you’re carrying or not, I am still going to claim her as mine. I mean, you’re not my biological daughter, but I’d fight whoever challenged my love for you with a fistfight. Of course, I would have to try and win by intimidation first because I’m as weak as any man twice my age, but I’m certain of my love for you.”
“Ditto,” Silas said. “And Papa Doc and I aren’t a couple but who says this little girl can’t have three granddads?”
Grace’s grin swished side-to-side as she tried to figure out if she wanted to laugh or cry. “Thanks for keeping my first dad in the loop. I’ll let him know about it in person when he comes by on Tuesday. And please, don’t anyone let my mother know. Promise me, right now, each and every one of you three, that you won’t so much as let my mother touch my child. She can see a picture of him or her, but no touching. After what she did to me - and threatened me with – I couldn’t…wouldn’t…”
“Calm down,” Chuck said. “We won’t let her near you or our baby. Oh, and yes, we can get married if you’d like.”
“Chuck!” Silas and Papa Doc screeched at the same time.
“That’s not how you ask a woman to marry you, son,” Papa Doc said ste
rnly.
“Tsk, tsk,” Silas muttered, then returned to making cucumber sandwiches for lunch.
“What? I just wanted to let her have an easy out if she wanted,” Chuck said. “Are you putting pickles on those sandwiches, Silas?”
“They’re cucumber sandwiches which means they’re already pickles. Or at least, could be.”
“Chuck, you know I love you,” Grace said. “And if I had anything but sisterly feelings for you,” she rolled her eyes, “you could be my Mr. Right. However, there’s a chance that this baby could be someone else’s. Remember I said something to you all about my mother threatening my friend, Dusty?”
“The one you said joined the army?” Papa Doc asked.
“Well, Mother lied about him, so I did, too. I don’t know where he is. Lord, I hope she didn’t concoct some lie and have him and his dad thrown in jail.”
“Why would she do that?” Silas asked, then set down the knife. “Oh, wait. She’s Victoria Stillwater. She doesn’t have to have a reason, right?”
“Yes and no,” Grace said. “She’s crazy, but I think she’d do it just to be mean to me.”
“Why is she so mean to you?” Chuck asked.
“Because she’s Victoria Stillwater,” Papa Doc and Silas said at the same time.
“So, I’m pregnant, unmarried, one potential father is dead and the other is missing…” Grace sniffed, looked around for something to wipe her nose with, then realized that ‘Always There For You’ Chuck had a box of tissues ready.
Silas cleared his throat to bring the attention away from her as she cleaned up the physical remnants of her distress. “Yes, all that’s true. One of those three statements is wonderful: the pregnancy. One is horrific: Alex is dead. The other is an unknown, totally fixable by someone I know who is a fantastic detective.”
“Who’s that?” Papa Doc asked. Chuck frowned as he nudged his father and grunted. “Oh! Yeah, that would be you, right, Silas?”
“Correct. So, we have a baby coming, a fantastic support network of three mostly able-bodied men,” he looked Chuck up and down, “some more so than the others, but all of us are willing to help you through this.”
“But how do I keep my mother from finding out?”
Papa Doc gave her a quick squeeze. “Your father’s already sneaking over here to see you once a week. I doubt we’ll be able to keep your impending motherhood a secret for long. If he’s been able to keep his visits a secret, I’m sure he’ll be able to handle the ultimate discretion: another addition to his family tree.”
“What would I do without you?” Grace asked, her tears starting anew.
“We’ll never know because we’ll always be here for you,” Chuck said.
“As long as I have a breath left in this old body…” Papa Doc started, then corrected himself. “I guess it’s a good time to tell you. I’m clear. At least, so far, so good.”
Chuck smacked him on the back playfully. “Didn’t I tell you that attitude made all the difference in treating cancer? All those good vibes streaming through your body kicked the bad ones out.”
“And this coming from a medical professional?” Papa Doc teased. “You’re right, though. So, let’s get down to business. Grace, you tell Silas everything you know about Dusty and his father: friends, schools, hangouts, barber, the works. From there, he’ll set out his guys. Mark my words, it won’t be long and he’ll be joining this family.”
“Huh?” Grace asked.
“You don’t think I’m going to ever give you up, do you? I own enough businesses around this country that I’m sure he’ll fit in with one of them. A good manager is always in demand. At least, I still believe in nepotism.”
“Nepo-what?” she asked.
“That just means he believes in hiring his relatives,” Chuck said. “Except his sons were as independent as he is. Let’s hope that finding family outside the bloodlines will work.”
“Amen to that,” Papa Doc said. “Now, what’s for lunch? Only good food from now on. I’m going to take better care of my body this time around. Not everyone gets a second chance.”
Grace rubbed her belly, melancholy despite the pep talk and dynamic support team surrounding her. Eighteen, unmarried, and pregnant. If Mother knew, she’d be howling in bitter delight.
***
Mid-July 1991
Victoria Stillwater looked over her ladies’ club’s bank statement again. It had been two months and he still hadn’t cashed that check. Looking through the window, she wondered where that boy and his father had fled to. The new gardener was decent to watch – broad-shouldered but with that inbred flaming red hair. His manager was a pain to deal with, always wanting to be paid upfront. She’d have to call the agency and have a new landscaper sent out for next week.
She didn’t know whether Dusty had believed her or not when she told him that Grace was upset, so traumatized by something that had happened the week before that she didn’t want to talk about it. She alluded that it had something to do with him, adding the stinger that Grace had asked her to tell him not to ever contact her again.
Maybe saying she was so hurt that she didn’t even want to bother with graduation – that she wanted a fresh start in Europe – was overkill, but she wanted Dusty completely out of Grace’s life. When he insisted he could make everything right if he could just speak to her, it was time to bring out the checkbook. Money, the great negotiator.
“You seem like a nice young man. You’re a hard worker. You could have a comfortable life with some college under your belt. How about I help with some tuition? Consider it an investment in your future. You can do the same for someone else when you’re well off. Ten thousand dollars will get you through junior college. Keep your grades up, and you’ll be able to transfer over to a first-class university and maybe get a scholarship. Go west. Try California. There are plenty of great schools out there, plus the weather is so much nicer.”
“Listen to her, son,” his father had said. “Chances like this don’t happen often.”
Dusty slapped the check onto his palm a couple of times, pondering his future. Ten thousand dollars would be more than enough to start his own business. Lawn and garden care in the summer; snow plowing and private drive maintenance in the winter. He felt his father’s hand on his, folding his fingers over the check.
“Take it, son,” he asked more than instructed, biting his bottom lip, hoping his son would be able to have a better future than his.
“Thank you,” Dusty said to Mrs. Stillwater, then nodded, not wanting to insult the elitist woman with a handshake from a working man.
“Well, it looks like he’s still deciding what to do or he’s lost the check. Damn! And here I was hoping I could get him for theft and forgery.” Victoria looked over the carbon copy of the check she had written, intentionally changing the angle of her signature and misspelling her own last name. “He must have lost it. I doubt he has the balls to come back and ask for another one. At least, he’s gone.”
“Good afternoon, Victoria,” Hal said as he walked into the den. “Checking the balances on all those bank accounts you keep?”
“How’d you know… I mean, yes, I’m doing some bookkeeping. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering if you’ve heard from our daughter.” Hal sat down in the recliner and held a magazine up so she couldn’t see his face if he happened to break character. “I was hoping she’d send us a postcard or two. Europe in the summer can be divine.”
“Oh, she called last night, just after you went to the club. She’s been keeping busy with her new friends,” Victoria said, then moved papers over her bank statements so he couldn’t see the numbers.
“Where is she this week?” Hal asked.
“I believe she was in Paris.”
“Let’s see, I left at eight, so that means it was sometime after two in the morning in Paris.”
“I think she may have been calling from London.”
“Really, Victoria. I wish you’d let me speak with he
r when she calls. I miss my little girl. I don’t think we’ve ever gone more than a week without chatting.”
“Well…well,” Victoria said, trying not to stutter but suddenly at a loss for words. “Well, she’s getting older now. She’s in Europe, with a new group of friends, and a whole new way of life.”
Hal shrugged, knowing she could see his gesture but kept his National Geographic held high, his grin of glee at terrorizing her hid behind it. “Just let me know if she needs money. I can wire it to her. I don’t want her going without.”
“As a matter of fact,” Victoria began, but Hal cut her off.
“But tell her I want postcards or a phone call first. No money until I get proof she’s still alive.”
“I think you’re being ridiculous,” Victoria huffed, frustrated that she’d once again been thwarted in getting more money out of her husband.
Hal put the magazine down and glared at her. “Ridiculous? No, I’m not,” he said. “And get dressed. We’re going out tonight. You committed us to an appearance at a fundraiser for the hospital. If you said we’d be there, we will.”
***
“Hey, Sweetie Pie,” Hal said. “Are you feeling better today?”
“Oh, Daddy,” she cried, reaching out for a much-needed hug, then stopped as she felt her gorge rise. She held her hand up and ran to the bathroom.
“How long is this going to last?” Hal asked Chuck.
“Dad said each woman and each pregnancy is different. I want to get her in for an ultrasound. It’s kind of hard doing it under the radar. Are you sure this is the right way to go?”
Hal nodded. “I’m going to respect Grace’s wish to keep her mother out of her life. As it is, that woman’s haunting hospitals, police departments, and even insane asylums looking for her. And no telling how many private eyes she’s hired.”
Silas walked in, his arms loaded with groceries. “All she has to do is have the paparazzi sniff around.”
“Oh, she has those guys eating out of her hand,” Hal said. “She’s spread the word that Grace has fled to the Balkans with some Romanoff heir, that the two of them are seeking the true meaning of life…or some other horseshit. Those boys aren’t stupid. They’re looking, but they won’t print anything without a picture. Actually, she’s pretty smart there. She’s getting at least Jimmy and his crew for free. They’re pretty thorough.”
The Set Up (Triplets: Three Aren't One Book 1) Page 8