Chapter 40

 

            The remainder of the year seemed to rush by faster than Johnny could turn the pages of the calendar. The holiday season differed greatly from the previous one for the paramedic.  He and Ashton bought a fourteen-foot tall tree and put it up in the great room.  They spent hundreds of dollars on decorations for the inside and outside of the condo, kicking off their decorating on Thanksgiving. It took them a week to get everything in place, but Johnny had no regrets when they were finished.  Ashton had an eye for decorating that he was proud of.  With seemingly little effort, she transformed their home into a holiday wonderland.  They culminated all their hard work by hosting a Christmas party one Sunday afternoon in mid-December for the guys Johnny worked with, their spouses, and children. 

 

            Johnny thought the party was a success, even though Ashton complained about the kids after everyone left.   The event was catered at Ashton’s insistence.  She had no skills in the kitchen, and Johnny freely admitted his were limited.  It made him miss the way Joanne could always host a party, big or small, with gracious ease and on a limited budget to boot.  Ashton didn’t have the desire to even try, and was happy to write a check from her own account to pay the caterer’s bill if that meant she could avoid domestic chores. 

 

            The couple stood together in the kitchen putting the leftover food away.

 

            “At least we won’t have to worry about where our next meal is coming from for the rest of this week.”

 

            Johnny took a covered container of barbequed meatballs from Ashton, searching for an empty spot in the refrigerator to store it.  “Sure doesn’t look that way.”

 

            “Boy, those kids were something.  I wanted to swat a few of them on their little bottoms and send them to one of the bedrooms until they calmed down.”

            “Ah, they weren’t so bad.”

 

            “Bad?  John, I thought a band of hyperactive midgets was let loose in the house.”

 

            Johnny couldn’t deny that Greg’s brood of six weren’t the best behaved kids he’d ever been around, but what the heck, the mountains of food, glittering lights and decorations, and the gifts Johnny had under the tree for them, had added to their excitement. 

 

            “They were just having a good time. Byron’s little girls were well behaved.”

 

            “Which ones were they?”

 

            Johnny chuckled. “The black ones.”

 

            “Oh.  Well yes. I guess they were sweet enough.  At least I didn’t see them running around screaming like those kids of Greg’s were.  Makes me realize all the more why I don’t want any.”

 

            Johnny put the last food container in the refrigerator, shut the door, and turned to face Ashton. 

 

“Children?”

 

“No Martians.  Yes, children.  That’s what we were just talking about, wasn’t it?”

 

“You really don’t want any?”

 

“No. Why?  Do you?”

 

“I don’t think it’s such a bad idea, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

She sidled up to the man and teased, “Then let’s go practice making a few.”

Johnny knew he shouldn’t have let her get out of the discussion that easily, but soon she had him in the bedroom with his clothes off, and once again he decided discussions about children could wait until they were ready to talk marriage.

 

Just like this holiday season was easier on Johnny, he also felt more settled in his job than a year ago at this time.  He and Greg had grown to be good friends.  They occasionally stopped somewhere for breakfast when they got off duty, and if Greg needed a hand with anything around his house Johnny was always the first to volunteer to help him.  His friendship with Greg didn’t extend to a friendship with Greg’s wife though, like he’d had with Joanne.  Karen seemed nice, but with six kids and a part time job at Kmart she reported to on the days Greg was off-duty, she was pretty stressed out.  She and Ashton had nothing in common, and since Greg couldn’t afford to hire a babysitter for his tribe, going out to dinner or to a movie with Greg and Karen was out of the question.  Aside from that, even Johnny wasn’t insane enough to volunteer to baby-sit for Greg’s kids, like he’d done on various occasions for the DeSoto children.  First of all, Ashton would kill him, and second of all, Greg and Karen could have used a few lessons from Roy and Jo on how to make kids tow the line.

 

Johnny and Greg did belong to the department’s bowling league, and bowled on the same team.  Bowling was another thing Ashton had no interest in, and made no effort to learn to enjoy for Johnny’s sake.  He’d wanted her to join the department’s couples’ league with him, but she’d been adamant in her refusal.  Since she worked long hours, Johnny didn’t make a big deal over it.  Given her hours, she wouldn’t be available to bowl on a regular basis, but still, he couldn’t help but silently bristle every time she dragged him to the art museum when he didn’t want to go.  He was supposed to take no for an answer whenever she didn’t want to participate in something he enjoyed, but she didn’t extend him that same courtesy.

 

Despite Ashton’s selfishness, Johnny considered this to be one of those little personality flaws you had to put with in your mate.  Just like he was sure there were things about him that annoyed Ashton now and then. 

 

The paramedic was able to get the week of Christmas and New Year’s off.  Ashton could only manage two days off, but was able to switch shifts with other interns, which allowed her some extra time. They got on a plane bound for Montana on December twenty-second. They were staying until mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve, then flying to New York City, where they were to stay with Ashton’s parents until leaving for home on December twenty-eighth so Ashton could return to work the next day.

 

Overall, Johnny thought the visits with their families were a success.  His father and sister seemed to fall in love with Ashton almost immediately, but then, Dad and Reah had wanted him to find the right woman again for so many years now that Johnny knew they’d accept just about anyone he told them he was serious about.  

 

Unlike Johnny’s father and sister, his grandfather was uncharacteristically reserved where Ashton was concerned.  Johnny wasn’t sure why, and when he asked Gray Wolf patted his hand and said, “All that’s important, John, is that you’re happy.  Are you happy with Ashton?”

 

“Very happy.”

 

“Then your happiness is all that matters.”

 

“But I want you to like her too.”

 

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean you like her.”

 

Gray Wolf had smiled then. “But neither does it mean I don’t, Katori.”

 

Johnny never did get a straight answer from his grandfather where Ashton was concerned, so he took the eighty-five year old man at his word.  As far as Ashton went, she claimed to like Johnny’s family, although Johnny saw shades of Margaret in Ashton each time she referred to something in his father’s home as “quaint” or called the small town of White Rock “quaint” or referred to the crafts his grandfather made and sold to tourists who came to the reservation as “quaint.”   She didn’t refer to the poverty she saw on the reservation as “quaint.” She didn’t say anything about it at all.  Johnny got the impression it didn’t affect her one way or another, other than to make her thank her lucky stars she was born into wealth.

 

  She acted interested when Gray Wolf introduced her to the world of his heritage through drawings, legends, and clothing, but Johnny had a feeling that, like her mother, Ashton was brought up to be polite in a situations like these and act interested even when she wasn’t. She seemed unnerved by the native dress his grandfather and sister sometimes wore. As though she was trying to picture how they’d fit in at a wedding reception thrown by her parents at the country club that had probably never seen a face that wasn’t white.

 

Ashton did enjoy bundling up and riding horses with Johnny over the snow covered pasture land his father owned, and she went with him to the cemetery to lay wreaths on the graves of his mother, maternal grandparents, twin sisters who’d died before he was born, and Kim and Jessie.  Tears even trickled from her eyes as they stood in front of Kim and Jessie’s graves.  She rested her head against Johnny’s chest, while he remained stoic, staring at the names etched in stone.  When he was ready to leave, he put an arm around Ashton’s shoulders and walked her to the truck he’d borrowed from his dad.

 

Johnny and Ashton celebrated Christmas with his family on the morning of the twenty-fourth.  Marietta Parker, the owner of the White Rock Café, arrived early to cook breakfast for everyone.  She was also the woman who’d held all of Chad Gage’s interest during the past year and a half.  Therefore, while it was a surprise to Johnny when his father and Marietta announced they were getting married the first Saturday in June, it wasn’t completely unexpected.  Because of Marietta’s long association with their family, Johnny and Reah couldn’t have been happier for the couple.

 

As they sat at the table eating ham and cheese omelets, pancakes, bacon, hash browns, and toast, Chad asked, “And you’ll be here to stand up with me, right, John? As my best man?”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it, Dad.”

 

Marietta reached for Reah’s hand and gave it a squeeze.  “And Reah will be my attendant.”

 

Johnny thought it was nice that his father and Marietta wanted Reah and him to be their attendants.  Marietta and her first husband weren’t able to have children, so Johnny and Reah had filled that role for the woman throughout the years. 

 

“And we’re going to have the reception right here on the ranch,” Chad said. “It won’t be anything fancy.  Just friends and family with cake, coffee, and punch.”

 

Johnny poured more syrup on his pancakes.  “Sounds real nice.”

 

“And you’ll be here too, Ashton.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Gage.” Ashton smiled sweetly. “Thank you so much for the invitation.  I can’t promise I’ll be able to make it, though.  That’ll depend on if I can get the time off at work. The summer months are always especially busy at a hospital. But I’ll certainly try.”

 

Johnny caught a look on his grandfather’s face that broadcast the old man’s doubt of Ashton’s words.  The paramedic didn’t like what he saw, but he had too much respect for his grandfather to say anything about it.  Ashton wouldn’t purposely skip the wedding.  If she could get off work, then she’d come with Johnny.  If she couldn’t, then his family would have to understand she had a demanding job and wasn’t always able to get away.  After all, interns didn’t have the type of privileges a tenured physician did.  As it was, Ashton would be working long hours for several days after they got home in order to cover for everyone she’d switched with to get this holiday vacation.

 

Gifts were opened when no one could hold one more morsel of breakfast.  Afterwards, Johnny and Ashton packed the presents they’d received and got their suitcases in order.  There was just enough time for a quick lunch before Chad and Marietta drove them to the airport.  At nine-thirty that night they were riding in the backseat of Ben’s car, headed for the home Ashton had grown up in on Long Island.

 

Johnny smiled slightly while rubbing a hand over the leather seat as Ashton leaned forward, chatting with her mother.

 

I knew he drove a Cadillac.  I just knew it.

 

Chapter 41

 

Ashton’s parents lived in a nine thousand square foot brick monstrosity that included more rooms than Johnny could keep track of.  A drawing room, a game room, a library, a study, a receiving room, which appeared to serve a different function than the formal living room, though what exactly function that was Johnny never figured out. A family room, kitchen, dining room with a table that sat fourteen, maid’s quarters off of the kitchen, laundry room, and eight bedrooms along with six bathrooms rounded out the home.  Johnny and Ashton were given their own wing, which included a bedroom four times the size of the condo’s master bedroom, a bathroom, a dressing room, and a sitting room that included a TV, VCR, a supply of movies, a cabinet filled with snacks, a wet bar, and a small well stocked refrigerator.

 

No wonder Ashton’s mother acted like my place is a cabin she’d rent for a weekend skiing. Compared to this, it is.

 

Johnny met the infamous Olympia, a woman of about sixty years old who lived in the maid’s quarters and had every Wednesday off.  Among other duties, she assisted Ashton’s mother with getting breakfast and lunch ready each day. Then promptly at three each afternoon that Margaret and Ben were “dining in” as Margaret phrased it, a chef arrived to prepare the evening meal.  Dinner was served promptly at seven, with formal attire required, even when it was just Ashton’s parents, Ashton and Johnny.  Johnny soon learned that formal dinner attire for a male meant, at the very least, dress slacks and shirt, along with a sport coat and tie.  Of course, a dark suit was always preferable, or so Ashton told him. 

 

It was all Johnny could do not to laugh at the thought of living like this.  He’d spent plenty of nights before Ashton came into his life eating pizza in nothing but his boxer shorts while watching a ballgame on T.V., and considered that all the formal attire he needed.  As Ben tugged on the knot of his tie for the tenth time, Johnny got the impression that just once before he died Ashton’s father would like to know how it felt to eat in front of the T.V. in his boxers, but the paramedic was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and not cause trouble by cluing the man in.

 

Christmas Day wasn’t as bad as Johnny expected it to be. The morning was spent alone with Ashton’s parents opening gifts, and then having brunch that the chef arrived at the crack of dawn to prepare. The annual Christmas open house Ashton’s parents hosted began at two that afternoon.

 

Ben’s rowdy Irish family made the paramedic feel right at home as they spilled through the door by the dozens. Ben was the eighth of ten children, and the first-born male.  His sister, Patricia, was fourteen months younger than him, and then there had been a brother, Joseph, named for Joe Kennedy Sr., who was born eleven months after Patty.  Ashton told Johnny that the two eldest children in her father’s family, Lillian and Evelyn, had died as toddlers during a measles epidemic that swept the country in 1921, and that Joey drowned in 1945, just a few days short of his tenth birthday. This last tragedy left her father as the only son, and for that reason, much favored by her grandmother Riley.

 

Kate Riley was eighty-eight years old.  Johnny found the tiny spitfire to be candid, funny and feisty.  He thought Margaret would benefit from having a little more of her mother-in-law’s personality.

 

It was late in the afternoon on Christmas Day when the elderly lady sat down in a chair next to Johnny.  People filled the home’s downstairs rooms, spreading throughout the living room, dining room, and drawing room.  It was the receiving room Johnny had retreated to when he could no longer keep track of who was who, and which cousin was from the Rockefeller side of the family, versus which one was a Riley.

 

“So, young man, what do you think of this shindig Margaret puts on?”

 

“It’s very nice.”

 

“Nice.”  She waved one hand in dismissal, while keeping the other on the hook of her cane.  “She does this for show, you know.”

 

“Uh…um…”

 

Kate laughed. “Sorry for putting you on the spot like that.  You’re screwing my granddaughter, so it stands to reason that you have to be careful about what you say.”

 

Johnny blushed.  “Uh…yes, ma’am.”

 

“Don’t ma’am me. Call me Grandma Kate, like the rest of the grandkids do.  Or just Kate.  That’s fine too.  Just don’t call me “Mother Riley” like Margaret does. That’s grated on my nerves for almost thirty-two years now.  Since I plan to live to be at least ninety-five, I expect it’ll grate on my nerves for a long while to come yet.”

 

“Um…okay…uh…Kate.”

 

“Not used to calling an old lady by her first name, is that it?”

 

“Well, no.  Not really.”

 

“If that’s the worst thing you have to get used to in this family, then consider yourself lucky.” 

 

The receiving room opened onto the massive foyer.  Beyond that was the living room. From where Johnny and Kate were sitting, it was easy to see everyone coming and going.

 

Kate made a face as a new group of people entered the house.

 

“The Rockefellers. Scoundrels every one of ‘em.  Of course, not as big of scoundrels as Joe Kennedy, but that’s another story.”

 

“Ben told me that your husband thought a lot of Mr. Kennedy.”

 

“My husband, not me.  That sex fiend tried to get me in bed with him more than once.  You believe everything you read about him, John, because all of it’s true. I didn’t want to name my youngest son for him, but my husband and I had an agreement.  I got to name the girls, and he got to name the boys.  Thank God we had more girls than boys is all I’ve got to say.”  The old women leaned forward in her chair and gazed at the faces in the living room. “You’re lucky old Bill Ashton isn’t here, or his prissy wife Frances, either.”

 

“Margaret’s parents?”

 

“The one and only.  They spend the winter at a place they own down in Florida.  Frances has always liked to throw it in my face that she’s a Rockefeller. As if that’s something to be proud of.  You’ve probably met Margaret’s sisters, Elizabeth and Victoria.”

 

“Yeah,” Johnny nodded.  He’d met the two women and their husbands an hour earlier.

 

“Weren’t too impressed, were you?”

“Uh…”

 

“Ah, go ahead and be honest.  They’re snobby, just like Margaret is.  You notice how all of them insist on formal address?  As if Margaret, Elizabeth and Victoria aren’t mouthfuls.  Sounds like they think they’re members of the British Royal family, doesn’t it?”

 

“Um--”

 

“Well, allow me to assure you, they’re not.  Now if they were my girls, they’d be Maggie, Betsy, and Vickie, whether they wanted to be or not.  All of my children have proper names, mind you, but I sure don’t go around calling them Mary Kathleen, Constance, Geraldine, Adele, Virginia, Bennett, and Patricia.  No sir.  Mary, Connie, Gerri, Addie, Ginny, Ben, and Patty are good enough for me, and anyone else they run across.  Don’t you agree?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Kate.”

 

“Kate. Yes, Kate.”

 

“I thought you would. You don’t seem like the type who’s worried about what fork he’s supposed to use, or how he’s supposed to dress for dinner.”

 

Johnny chuckled. “Until recently I wasn’t.”

 

“Good boy.  Don’t let Margaret, or Ashton for that matter, change you.” 

 

“I’ll try not to.”

 

“I know, I know. They’re both a force to be reckoned with.  Don’t get me wrong, John, I love my granddaughter.  I love all twenty-six of my grandchildren.  But Ashton’s spoiled, plain and simple.  I warned Ben years ago that he and Margaret shouldn’t cater to her every whim and way, but he wouldn’t listen to me, and then the stooge went and told Margaret what I said. You can imagine what an uproar that caused. Margaret claimed I was interfering and told me in no uncertain terms to butt out.”

 

Johnny wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, so he didn’t say anything.  Kate didn’t seem to notice his lack of response, or maybe she didn’t care if he agreed with her or not when she said Ashton was spoiled.

 

“It would have done Ashton good to have brothers and sisters.  Margaret and Ben shouldn’t have stopped after the boys died.  But Margaret…” the old woman waved a hand again. “Pampered that one was, by her parents first, and then by my son.  My own mother buried five children before she went on to have eleven that lived.  I buried two before Mary was born.”

 

“Ashton told me that.  I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.  Death is a part of life, son.  There’s no way to get around it.  My faith kept me going each time I buried a child, and then in more recent years, my husband.  Speaking of faith, you wouldn’t happen to be a Catholic, would you, John?”

 

“Not really.”

 

            The woman eyed Johnny with open skepticism. “How can you “not really” be a Catholic?”

 

            “I guess I’m not anything. My father and grandfather were born and raised on a reservation. They were both educated by Catholic missionaries.  But neither of them attends church, and my mother was a Baptist.  My sister and I used to go to church with her and my grandmother when we were kids.”

 

            “Ah, the Baptists. Always out to save a soul if they can. I’m not fond of their long sermons, and all that singing, and praising the Lord, and carrying on like they do. I don’t think it’s proper, but to each their own.  So, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself a Baptist, either, is that it?”

 

            “No. I guess not.”

 

            “Then how do you feel about becoming a Roman Catholic?”

 

            “Well…uh--”

 

            “Margaret’s an Episcopalian, you know.”

 

            “Ashton’s mentioned it.”

 

            “She made Ben convert. And of course they raised Ashton as an Episcopalian.  Highfalutin religion that it is.  Catholic wasn’t good enough for Margaret. She had to be one step above the Rileys.”  Kate leaned into Johnny and said softly, “But I had Ashton baptized in the Catholic Church.”

 

            “You did?”

 

            “You bet I did.  Margaret and Ben still don’t know it.  When Ashton was eight months old, I arranged to have her for a day.  I already had things lined up with my parish priest.  That afternoon I slipped in a back door of the church with her, and ten minutes later slipped out.  So see, I think of Ashton as a Catholic, and if you’d be willing to become a Catholic…”

 

            “Uh…how about if I think on it for a while?”

 

            “That’s agreeable with me.  Just make me one promise.”

 

            “A promise?”

 

            “Yes.  Whatever you do, don’t become an Episcopalian.  I can stomach a Baptist in the family a lot better than I’ll be able to stomach another God forsaken Episcopalian.”

 

            “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            “You’re welcome.”

 

            The old woman’s eyes tracked her daughter-in-law’s movements as Margaret walked amongst her guests, smiling and chatting.

 

            “Don’t ever let her make you feel like you’re not worthy of this family.  I bet she’s already tried, hasn’t she?”

 

            “Well…”

 

            “Oh, quit being such a gentleman.  I know Margaret well enough to be certain she’s died at least three deaths because you’ve got Indian blood running through your veins.  Now me, I think it’s nice.  Different.  It’s about time someone came along to shake things up around here besides me.  I’m old. My days are numbered. I’d like to think you just might be the person who takes my place.”

 

            Johnny laughed.  “Who knows? I just might be.”

 

            “Glad to hear it.  She’s not above a scandal herself, you know.”

 

            “Margaret?”

 

            “Yep.  She was pregnant with Ashton when she and Ben got married.”

 

            “Really?”

 

            “Really.  Of course, she’s never admitted it, and Ben doesn’t have balls enough to go against whatever Margaret dictates.  But I’m not stupid.  I might be a scrub girl from a poor Irish family who just happened to marry a man with connections to Joe Kennedy, but I can add and subtract.  Margaret’s always claimed Ashton was two months premature.  Premature my Irish potatoes.  I gave birth to ten children, and helped my mother with seven of hers. I know what a healthy nine-month baby looks like, so believe me, there was nothing premature about Ashton.  Margaret was knocked up when she went to the alter, but she thinks it’s some big secret the rest of us don’t know.  Guess the joke’s on her, huh?”

 

            “Sounds like it.”

 

            “So if she gets all high and mighty with you and tries to make you feel like you’re only good enough to come in through the back door of this place, you remember what I said and have yourself a good laugh.  No one’s perfect, John. Not even Margaret Rockefeller Ashton Riley, no matter how much she might think she is.”

 

            Before Johnny could reply, Margaret breezed into the drawing room.  She wore a red dress that had been designed in Paris – or so he’d heard her tell Ashton – and jewelry Johnny estimated was worth several thousand dollars.

 

            “Mother Riley.  John. There you two are.  Whatever are you doing in here by yourselves?”

 

            Kate patted Johnny’s knee. “Just getting to know each other.  I was telling John about Ashton being born two months premature.  He wasn’t aware of it.”

 

            “Oh…yes…well, that’s really of no consequence either way, now is it.”

 

            Johnny saw the twinkle in Kate’s blue eyes when she said, “I suppose it depends on who you’re talking to.”

 

            Johnny could tell Margaret’s smile was forced. Gut instinct told him that she was wishing neither Kate nor he were guests in her home. 

 

            “John, Ashton’s looking for you. She wants to introduce you to her cousin, Richard. He’s one of the Rockefeller boys.  She’s in the dining room, I believe.” 

 

Margaret turned to her mother-in-law. “And Bennett would like you to join him and the rest of your children in the library for your gift exchange.”

 

“I’m too old for gifts.”

 

“Oh come now, Mother Riley, you are not.  Let me help you up and--”

 

“I can get up all by myself, thank you very much.  I may be old, but rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet.”

 

“I know that, Mother Riley. I was only trying to help.”

 

“Well I don’t need your help.” The old woman put her weight on her cane and stood. As she shuffled past Johnny, she said softly, “Don’t forget what I said.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Good, because I like you, John Gage.”

 

“I like you too, Kate Riley.”

 

“Glad to hear it.”  The old woman shot Margaret a scathing look. “Because not many around here do.”

 

Kate slowly made her way to the library.  Margaret gave Johnny an uncomfortable smile, like she wasn’t sure what had been discussed by her mother-in-law but had a good idea that whatever it was, it hadn’t been flattering where she was concerned.  For that reason and several others, Johnny had no desire to stand around with the woman any longer than necessary.

 

“I guess I’d better go find Ashton.”

 

“Yes. You’d better do that.”

 

As he started across the foyer, Margaret called, “Oh, John?”

 

He turned around. “Yeah?”

 

“Don’t pay any attention to my mother-in-law, dear.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.” Margaret lowered her voice as she raised an index finger to her temple and lightly tapped. “She’s not all there any more. It’s a shame really. Such a lovely woman.”

 

Johnny could barely contain his laughter.  Ashton’s mother was bound and determined to save face at any costs.

 

“Yeah, she is lovely,” Johnny agreed wholeheartedly, then hurried to join Ashton in the dining room before he burst out laughing at the odd quirks of the rich.

 

~ ~ ~

 

            Johnny and Ashton returned to Denver at four-ten on the afternoon of December twenty-eighth.  Johnny thought he’d survived the visit with her parents pretty well, though he came away with the certainty that he could never live the lifestyle they did even if he had the money to afford it.

 

            Aside from the Christmas open house, there had been dinner at the country club on the twenty-sixth, and then a holiday luncheon at the home of an associate of Ben’s, some doctor by the name of Franklin Barnes, on the twenty-seventh.  By the time he boarded the plane for home, Johnny was sure he’d met everyone who’d ever played any significant part in Ashton’s life.  They all seemed nice enough, but Johnny admitted to himself that the only people he’d really felt comfortable with were the Rileys, and that was only when Margaret wasn’t around.  Ben’s family wasn’t at all pretentious and loved having a good time.  Johnny caught glimpses of the man Ben could have been had he chosen someone else for his wife.  But then, without Margaret, there wouldn’t have been an Ashton, so Johnny figured fate had played out like it was supposed to.  Ashton made Johnny happy, plain and simple.  It had been a hard year for him filled with major adjustments. Once she came into his life, the adjustments got easier.

 

            Johnny didn’t think of Roy’s family as often now as he had when he’d first arrived in Denver, though he found himself keeping mental track of things like birthdays, and the fact that John would now be in second grade, and Jennifer would be a senior in high school.  He often wondered how Chris was doing, and had even thought several times of picking up the phone and calling Joanne, but he’d always stopped himself before that happened.  He didn’t want to give any of the kids false hope that he might return to their lives should one of them answer the phone, and as far as Roy went…well, Johnny had no idea if the man had forgiven him even just a little bit.  If he hadn’t, then Johnny couldn’t stand the thought of being hurt again.  He’d spent the past fifteen months rebuilding his life a thousand miles east of L.A.  He liked his job, liked the guys he worked with, and was head over heels in love with Ashton.  He didn’t want to return to that dark empty place that he’d dwelled in the first few months after his friendship with Roy ended.  He was moving out of that place now, and while he’d always think of Roy with fond memories, he’d accepted the fact that he’d never see the man again.

 

The twelve-month anniversary of Johnny’s first date with Ashton fell on January second.  The woman had worked every day since they’d returned from vacation; sleeping at the hospital because she was on-call for the interns she’d switched shifts with.  She finally went off duty at seven a.m. on the second. She crawled in bed as soon as she got home, barely finding the energy to kiss Johnny as she passed him in the hall.

 

It was Johnny’s last day of vacation.  While Ashton slept, he cleaned the condo, did laundry, and went grocery shopping.  He was sprawled on the couch watching T.V. when Ashton finally joined him at five that afternoon, still wearing her pajamas.

 

“Hey, sleepyhead.”  He kissed her when she bent and pressed her lips to his, then said, “You’d better get showered and dressed.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I have reservations for us at seven at the Silver Rose.”

 

“Tonight?

“Yeah, tonight.  It was exactly one year ago that we met there for dinner.”

 

“Oh my gosh, it is, isn’t it?” 

 

“It sure is.”

 

“I’m sorry. I should have remembered.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve been working non-stop since we got home.”  Johnny pushed himself to a seated position.  “Go on. Shower and get ready.”

 

She grabbed his hand. “Only if you shower with me.”

 

“Damn you, woman, but you’re always making offers I just can’t refuse.”

 

Ashton laughed, then grabbed the remote and clicked off the television. She took Johnny’s right hand and led him to the master bathroom. They made love in the shower, then washed one another with the lilac scented soap and thick fluffy washcloths Ashton had purchased at a specialty shop she frequented.  They arrived at the Silver Rose a few minutes before seven.  Johnny gave Malcolm grief for old time’s sake, then allowed the Maitre d’ to lead them to their table.  A dozen roses were waiting there for Ashton that Johnny’d arranged to have delivered before he and Ashton arrived.

 

The night was perfect as far as Johnny was concerned, and he could tell Ashton felt the same way.  After they arrived back home, they snuggled together beneath the covers, waiting for sleep to claim them while exchanging whispered pillow talk.

 

The calendar had rolled over to 1987 the previous day.  For reasons Johnny couldn’t explain beyond the beautiful woman wrapped in his arms, he had a feeling it was going to be one heck of a good year.

 

Chapter 42

 

 

With the aid of his cane, Johnny slowly climbed the stairs to Trevor’s room, clinging tight to the railing. Dishes clinked together in the kitchen as Roy cleared the table. Water ran, filling the sink so he could wash the bowls and spoons they’d used for the ice cream sundaes. 

 

It was strange how the mind worked.  Ever since the aneurysm burst, Johnny often forgot things he’d done just a few hours earlier.  Yet he could recall with great clarity events from twenty years ago.  With so much clarity, in fact, that he was able to relay conversations to Roy that he’d had with Ashton, or Ben, or Grandma Kate, almost word for word. Of course, he hadn’t gone into detail with Roy about his sex life with Ashton.  Hadn’t said much about it at all, other than a quick, “The sex was great,” although he’d purposely garbled that, so it was hard to say how much of it Roy understood, if any.  It didn’t matter.  For Johnny, the memories of that first year with Ashton were still vivid.  Including those that took place in the bedroom…and other parts of his condominium, as well.

 

Ben Riley was now retired.  He and Margaret spent their winters at the home in Florida that had belonged to Margaret’s parents, both of whom were deceased.  Johnny met Bill and Frances Ashton just once, during a trip he’d made with Ashton to New York in August of 1991, when Grandma Kate passed away. By then things weren’t good between Johnny and Ashton, but regardless, he wouldn’t have missed Kate’s funeral.  He’d always appreciated her sense of humor and the way she could get the best of Margaret.  He still thought of her every so often, and regretted that Trevor never knew her.  He’d never known Bill or Frances, either.  They were both deceased by the time Trevor started making yearly visits to New York when he was three.  Johnny himself had barely known them, so he couldn’t say whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that Trev hadn’t gotten the opportunity to meet them.  Kate would have told him that was a good thing, and since he’d always found her judgment to be accurate where Margaret and her family were concerned, he figured Trevor wasn’t missing out on anything.

 

Trevor did have semi-regular contact with Margaret and Ben.  He saw them each summer when he visited his mother, and they called him every few months to see how he was doing and what was going on in his life. Trev had recently struck up a steady e-mail correspondence with Ben, which made Johnny happy.  He’d always liked Ben. That fact hadn’t changed even after he and Ashton no longer lived together.  Johnny knew it was important that Trevor feel connected to his mother’s family.  He hadn’t necessarily thought so at one time, but now that Trevor was older Johnny could tell by questions he asked and things he said, that Trev needed a sense of personal history and heritage from both his father and his mother. 

 

Johnny found it amusing that Margaret ended up with a grandson of what she would refer to as “mixed race,” and her only blood grandchild at that.  And then he found it even more amusing when he thought of the baby girl from China that Ashton and Franklin adopted a year ago.  Margaret never did get the WASP grandchildren of high-society cultured breeding she’d so craved. But what the heck. Johnny shouldn’t be so hard on her.  She was good to Trevor whenever she saw him. And she always remembered his birthday with gifts and a one hundred dollar savings bond, and sent more presents at Christmas than he needed, and a big basket at Easter filled with enough candy, money, and gifts for three kids.  He’d learned years after Trevor’s birth that it was Margaret who convinced Ashton she needed to be a part of Trevor’s life.  That it was wrong of her to walk away from the boy, and that if she didn’t establish a relationship with Trevor, she’d come to regret it in the future.  When Trevor was just a few weeks past his third birthday and Ashton contacted Johnny about wanting to see the little boy, Johnny wouldn’t have thanked Margaret for her interference had he known about it.  But now, eleven years later, he didn’t fault her for it. For Trevor’s sake, it was for the best.  Maybe not for Johnny’s, because God knew he’d rather go through the rest of his life without having to talk to Ashton again, but Trevor needed his mother, so Johnny’d learned to deal with Ashton over the years, and was simply thankful an entire continent separated them.

 

Johnny heard the faint sound of music.  He tapped on Trevor’s door, smiling a little when the music abruptly ended.  Like a typical teenager, Trevor had figured out a way to defy his father.  Or so he thought.  Johnny knew all along that the only thing his son had done was turn the volume on his CD player lower so it wouldn’t be easily heard. 

 

Trevor opened the door.  Even if Johnny hadn’t heard the music, he’d have immediately recognized the guilt on his son’s face.  Trevor’s, “Hi, Pops!” came out a little too cheerful, further adding to his cover-up attempt.

 

“Hi.”  Johnny glanced toward the boy’s desk.  “Home--wok done?”

 

“Everything but three pages in my history book I have to read.”

 

“Goot. Do--then bed.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Johnny put a hand on the back of his son’s neck and pulled Trevor to his chest.  He kissed the top of his head.  “Goot…nigh-- night.”

 

“ ‘Night.”

 

After Johnny released Trevor, he pointed at the radio/CD player setting on a shelf. 

 

“Lee--leaf off.  Or mine fo--for on--one wee--week. ‘Stand?”

 

Trevor blushed slightly over getting caught.  “Yeah, I understand.”

 

The teenager turned to head back to his desk.  “Hey, Pops, what were you and Uncle Roy down there talking about for so long?”

 

Your mother.

 

That wasn’t the reply Johnny gave his son, however.  When he answered Trevor, he summed it up with a word he didn’t stumble over.

 

“Memories.”

 

Chapter 43

 

I’d never realized how hard the end of our friendship was on Johnny until he told me about that first year he’d lived in Denver. On a subconscious level I must have surmised it, because once enough time passed after Chris was shot and I was able to put that event in better perspective, the end of our friendship was hard on me as well.  But I still had all that was familiar and comforting to me – my family, my home, and my job. Unlike Johnny who, because of my actions that day in Rampart, had started over where everything and everyone was strange to him.  It couldn’t have been easy.  As his story unfolded, I could feel all the uncertainty and loneliness he’d felt his first few months in Denver, and then the happiness as his relationship with Ashton went from dating, to something concrete and permanent.  By the time he told me about celebrating their first anniversary at the Silver Rose, I got a sense of how much he’d begun to fit into the new life he’d made for himself.  His job with the fire department, the men he worked with, his condo, and Ashton; combined, they’d all brought Johnny a sense of belonging again. 

 

Still, for as relieved as it made me to know good things had eventually come his way after arriving in Colorado, it was difficult to hear him talk about the painful reminders that surfaced that first year, and would continue to surface for years to come.  How each time the date on the calendar signified the birthday of one of my children, or of Joanne or myself, Johnny would think about us.  How he kept track of the kids’ ages as each year passed and wondered what they were doing, and how they’d changed from the last time he’d seen them.  How he often thought of Chris, and wondered what kind of progress Chris had made physically, and if he had a life that brought him happiness.

 

I spent what little free time I had at Johnny’s mulling this over.  I thought of all the ways I could have handled the aftermath of Chris’s injury differently, but the problem was, I didn’t have the ability to go back to 1985 and change my reaction.  Change how I’d treated Johnny.  I wondered if I would have come around sooner had he stayed in L.A.  If I’d have patched things up between us long before fifteen years of estrangement passed.

 

That was a hard question for even me to answer.  The anger over what happened to Chris stayed with me for a long time.  It’s impossible for me to remember now when I finally began to realize that, to a large degree, it wasn’t Johnny whom I was angry with.  It was Scott Monroe first and foremost, a man I’d never even come face to face with because he pled guilty by reason of insanity, so the case never went to trial. 

 

Aside from Monroe, I was angry with myself.  I didn’t acknowledge that right away.  Not in that first year after the shooting when Chris needed so much of my help, and then not for several years afterwards, when I was kept occupied by a family that was growing and changing as a result of kids in college, marriages, my active youngest son progressing through grade school and high school, and the births of grandchildren.  But at times late at night while I was waiting to fall asleep, the nagging thought would creep in that it wasn’t Johnny’s fault Chris had confided in him about not wanting to attend college long before Chris told me.  That it wasn’t Johnny’s fault I wouldn’t listen to Chris all of the times he’d tried to have a heart to heart talk with me about his desire to join the fire department. But when my son could no longer walk and I was afraid when I thought of what the future might hold for him, John Gage became an easy scapegoat.  For years he was the person I continued to blame, because blaming Johnny had became a habit more than it was something I really felt inside.

 

The first three weeks I was in Eagle Harbor there were numerous ups and downs for Johnny that included some tough fought victories, and some setbacks he took a lot harder than I thought he should. His mood could change from determined to depressed in a matter of seconds. Whenever that happened I had to tread lightly while trying to figure out how to motivate him again, and get him back on track. 

 

When I’d returned from taking Trevor to school on that first Friday morning after my arrival, I pulled the sheets Dana had given me from a pocket of my blue jeans and scanned them.  Because Johnny had left the kitchen T.V. on while he showered, I didn’t hear him walk into the room over the sound of Good Morning America’s hosts talking about the latest scandal in Washington.

 

“Wha--wha that?”

 

I dropped my hand to my side.  “Nothing.”

 

I knew it was stupid the second I said it. My kids used to pull the same innocent act on me whenever I caught them red-handed at something.  I was sure Trevor had pulled it on Johnny a few times over the years too. Therefore, it didn’t surprise me when he grasped my wrist and raised my hand far enough so he could read what I was holding.

 

He didn’t say anything as he released me.  I expected to see anger in his eyes, but instead I saw hurt he couldn’t conceal despite his efforts. 

 

“Johnny--”

 

“Don-don go be-be-behind my ba-ba-back an’ tree-treat me child.”

 

“I’m not treating you like a child.”

 

He pointed at the instruction sheet.  “Yes are.  You did- didn’ tell me Da-Da-Dana lef’ them.”
 

“You’re right.  I didn’t, and I’m sorry about that.  It’s just…it’s important to me to help you in any way I can while I’m here.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why?” I echoed.

 

“Why?” He repeated.  “Lef’--lef’over guilt?”

 

At first it surprised me that Johnny somehow knew what had been on my mind ever since I’d arrived.  But then when I thought about the recent conversations that took us both back twenty years, his deduction didn’t seem so surprising after all.

 

“Um…no.  No.”  And it wasn’t really a lie either.  At least not completely.  “Friendship,” I said firmly.  “I came out of friendship, just like you’d do for me if you knew there was some way you could help me through a tough time.”

 

Whatever he thought about my explanation, he left unspoken.  He zeroed in on his earlier words.

 

“Guilt. You no.  Don’t. Long-happen long ago.”

 

“I know it did.”

 

“We aree-aree in-in past. Behin’ us.”

 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We both agreed it was in the past and that we’d put it behind us.”

 

And we had agreed to that, during the weeks Johnny recuperated at my house during the summer of 2000, after his final encounter with Evan Crammer.

 

“Leaf--leave it there, ‘Oy.  In past.”

 

“On most days I can. But on some days--”

 

“No guilt,” he reiterated, then pointed to the sheets in my hand.  “Wha’ for?”

 

I recognized he was changing the subject.

 

“So I can help you.”

 

“No.”

“Johnny, you have to do the exercises every day or you’re not gonna get better.  And come Monday, you have to let me take you to the clinic.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why’re you being so damn stubborn?”

 

“Not gonna make diff-dif’ence.”

 

“What’s not gonna make a difference?”

 

“Any of it.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well you’re wrong about that.”

 

“No I not.”

 

“Yeah you are. And if you’d quit being so bull headed, you’d realize that.”

 

“How?”

 

“How’s it gonna make a difference?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Hard work and practice, that’s how.  I haven’t been here quite forty-eight hours yet, and already I’ve heard an improvement in your speech.  The more you talk to me, the better you get.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes. And if you’d quite being so determined to fail you might see it for yourself.  When you just said to me – ‘any of it’ – that was clear, and a complete sentence.”

 

“Sh-short.”

 

I laughed. “Okay, yeah.  It was a short sentence, but still, you said it perfectly.  If you’d just give everything else a try that you’re supposed to be doing, you might be surprised at how far you go.”

 

“Or no--not go.”

 

There it was again.  His fear of failure.  His fear of not knowing how he’d handle the disappointment if he couldn’t return to work, and to being the active father he’d once been.

 

“Or not go,” I agreed.  “But that doesn’t mean life won’t hold other alternatives.  It has for Chris, Johnny.  The same can hold true for you if you let it.”

 

He averted his gaze, giving me the impression that I shouldn’t have brought up Chris.  I didn’t regret doing so, however.  If the guilt on both of our parts was truly supposed to be in the past, then Chris’s disability shouldn’t be a sensitive subject.  And I was proud of the life my oldest son had made for himself.  I wanted Johnny to think about that, and realize other opportunities were a possibility for him if he couldn’t return to work at Eagle Harbor’s fire station. Like Chris had done with his computer business, Johnny might have to create some opportunities for himself, and then let the rest fall into place from there.

 

When Johnny didn’t say anything, I spoke again.

 

“This may sound corny, but the bottom line is, you’ll never know unless you try.”

 

That caused him to make eye contact with me again.  He was trying not to smile. 

 

“Is corny.”

 

“So prove me wrong.”

 

He rolled his eyes; that gesture letting me know he saw right through my attempt to motivate him.  He stood there a moment, then finally pointed at the paper in my hand again.

 

“O-okay.  I try.”

 

“Good.”

 

I followed him into the great room where the things Dana had brought with her the previous day still lined one wall.  It was the first day of many physical therapy sessions to come for Johnny and me. I helped him with each exercise, just like I’d seen Dana do.  Sometimes that meant providing support for his weak left side so he wouldn’t lose his balance. Sometimes it meant helping him lift a weight with his left arm after his strength started to dwindle. And sometimes it just meant offering encouraging words while counting off various repetitions as he went about the routines we soon had memorized.

 

            Aside from the at-home physical therapy sessions, I did my best to get Johnny to participate in the daily household chores, from cooking, to laundry, to making beds, to cleaning.  Some days he was receptive to it and some days he wasn’t.  A lot of times how willing he was to help depended on his mood, which was always easy for me to read, but not always easy for me to know the source of.  On days when he seemed depressed, I got the impression he wondered if the only job he was destined to have when his recovery took him as far as possible was housework.   For that reason, a week after I arrived, I began urging him to go outside each afternoon to do the chores before Trevor got home.  I was glad I did. It made a big difference in Johnny’s demeanor, and seemed to give Trevor further hope that his father might make a full recovery.  I told Trevor not to let his expectations run too high when he mentioned it one day as I was driving him home from school, but I did acknowledge that seeing his father in the barn again gave me hope as well. 

 

            Getting Johnny to go to his physical therapy sessions was a challenge, but I think his reluctant willingness to attend came from the fact that he knew Dana would just show up at the house if he didn’t show up at the clinic.  There was no doubt in my mind that he wasn’t ready to be seen in public that first Monday I parked the Land Rover in the clinic’s parking lot.  He stared at the building for a long time, making no move to get out of the vehicle.

 

            “Johnny…”

 

            He wouldn’t look at me when he confessed, “Can…can’ do it.”

 

            “Yes you can.”

 

            “No.”

 

            “Why not?  What’s the worst thing that’s gonna happen?”

 

            When he didn’t answer me, I repeated my question.

 

            “Johnny, come on.  What’s the worst thing that’s gonna happen if you go in there?”

 

            “Peop-people see.”

 

            “Yeah,” I acknowledged softly, “people are gonna see you.  Probably even some people you know.”

 

            He shot me a smirk of disgust at my lack of understanding.

 

            “This Ea-Ea’le Har-Harbor, not L.A. Ever-ever’one knows me.”

 

            I smiled at the reminder of the pluses and minuses to living in “small town America.”  Of course everyone knew the town’s fire chief, just like Johnny probably knew each one of them.  If not by name in some cases, then at least by sight.

 

            “Stuff like this…the first time you have to tackle something you haven’t had to do since getting out of the hospital, is tough.  I know that.  But you can’t spend the rest of your life in the house. I don’t think that’ll make you very happy.”

 

            He turned away from me again. 

 

            “Not hap…not happy now.”

 

            “I know you’re not.  But things’ll get better, Johnny.  They already have gotten better.  I told you on Friday your speech is improving.  You’ve improved in other areas too. If you wanna keep on improving, walking into that building is another bridge you have to cross.”

 

            “Improve is no--not do dishes an’ make beds.”

 

            Improving is not doing dishes and making beds.

 

            I patted the bulky arm of his winter coat as I opened my door. “Improving is improving, Junior. Take it as it comes and be thankful for it.”

 

            When I walked around the Land Rover and opened his door, he didn’t have much choice other than to get out, or have me pull him out.  He decided on the more dignified option of exiting the vehicle on his own.

 

            As I’d told Johnny, entering the clinic was another bridge he had to cross.  His prior physical therapy sessions, the ones Clarice had taken him to, were held in Juneau.  I assumed Johnny knew the ER staff at Juneau’s Bartlett Hospital fairly well, but I also assumed he could walk the halls of that building without encountering many other people he knew.  It wasn’t like that at Eagle Harbor’s small clinic.  Everyone from nurses, to clerks, to doctors, to the janitor working that morning and patients sitting in the waiting area, all treated Johnny like a conquering hero just home from battle.

 

            It was obvious to me that the attention showered on Johnny made him uncomfortable because it forced him to try and talk to all of those who gathered around wanting to have a word with him. Yet I could also tell their concern meant a lot to him.  I hoped this would make some other things easier for him that I thought he needed to do – like starting to attend Trevor’s basketball and hockey games, and dropping in at the fire station every so often to see the men and women who worked for him. 

 

            I was the one who dropped in at the fire station that day.  Dana told me Johnny’s session would last four hours, since it would include speech and occupational therapy.  Rather than hang around the clinic, I decided I’d shoot the bull with Carl for a while and find out how his mother was doing, then see what other ways I could keep myself occupied in Eagle Harbor before returning to pick up Johnny.

 

            If Johnny had been with me, I’d have entered the station through the back service door.  Since he wasn’t with me, I parked the Land Rover in the area of the lot marked Visitors, then followed the freshly shoveled sidewalk to the front entrance that served both the police and fire departments.

 

            I wiped my boots off on a mat that was damp and had clumps of snow clinging to it.  A squat, middle-aged woman of Eskimo heritage glanced up from her seat behind the counter as I approached.  She was either too busy to deal with an interruption, or just plain grouchy by nature.  She grumbled, “Be with ya’ in a minute,” while sorting piles of papers into various folders.

 

            “Sure. No problem.”

 

            “Doesn’t matter if it is a problem. You’ll have to wait until I’m finished unless it’s an emergency.”  She glanced up at me again.  “You got an emergency of some sort?  A fire? A kidnapping?  Or something that’s been stolen?”

 

            “No. Nothing like that.”

 

            “Then cool your britches until I’m done. And don’t drip snow from them boots onto my clean floor.”

 

            I looked down to double check that my boots were clean.  They were, but I didn’t bother to point that out to the woman.  She was dressed in what I took to be the clerk’s uniform for the Eagle Harbor Police and Fire Department.  Navy blue trousers, a white blouse, and a navy V-necked pullover sweater.  Her silver nametag read H. Alipak, Senior Clerk.  Since there was no one else around, and given the small size of Eagle Harbor, I surmised she was the only clerk, but I wasn’t foolish enough to comment on that.

 

            When the woman finished, she stood.  I guessed her to be all of four foot ten. She was as round as she was tall, with a wide, flat nose and thick black hair that she wore in a single braid that reached her waist.

 

            “Now what can I do for ya’?  And if you’re gonna try and sell me something, you can just march your butt right on outta here and head back to Juneau, or Anchorage, or wherever it is you came from.”

 

            “I don’t have anything to sell.”

 

            “Good. I can at least tolerate ya’ now.  So what is it ya’ need, stranger?”

 

            “I’m here to see Car…Chief Mjtko, if he’s in.”

 

            Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

 

            “Whatchya’ want with the chief?  Gonna sell him something?”

 

            “No.”

 

            “You’re not a reporter, are ya’?”

 

            I wasn’t aware of anything happening in Eagle Harbor recently that would warrant a reporter nosing around. I had a feeling there wasn’t any big news to report, but instead, that H. Alipak enjoyed exercising her position of power as the first line of defense a person had to cross to reach Carl or Johnny.

 

            “Nope. I’m not a reporter either.”

 

            “Then you’ve just gone up another notch in my book.  So what’s your business with the chief?”

 

            “I stopped in to talk to him for a few minutes.”

 

            “He’s a busy man.”

 

            “I’m sure he is.”

 

            “Then what makes ya’ think he’ll take time outta his day ta’ jaw with you?”

 

            “Well…uh…”

 

            “Roy!  Hi there!” 

 

             I might never have gotten to see Carl that morning if he hadn’t entered from the hallway that ran behind the clerk’s counter.  If I recalled correctly from the last time I’d been in Eagle Harbor, that hallway contained Johnny’s office, Carl’s office, a conference room, a janitor’s closet, and rest rooms.  If you followed it to the south end, you entered a large modern kitchen and day room that the employees of the police and fire department shared use of.  On the far wall adjacent to the day room was the fire department’s apparatus bay, and then the locker rooms and dorm. The north end of the hallway, which was just a few yards from where I was standing, held the police department’s vehicle bay.

 

            “Hi, Carl.”

 

            The woman flicked her thumb in my direction.

 

            “You know ‘im?”

 

            “Sure do. This is John’s friend from L.A.”

 

With that, H. Alipak’s demeanor changed.  She beamed at me while holding out a pudgy hand. 

 

“Hey there.  Nice to meet ya’.  Why didn’t you say you’re a friend of Chief Gage’s?”

 “Uh…well…I--”

 

“Probably because you didn’t give him a chance,” Carl said.

 

The woman shook a finger at Carl, who stood a foot and a half taller than she did. 

 

“Look you, don’t give me no lip. It’s my job to screen every person who walks through that door, and that’s exactly what I was doin’.  If you wanna get someone else to do the work of three people, like I do around here without ever askin’ for raise, then you just go right ahead.”  She reached under the counter and grabbed her purse. “I quit.”

 

“Oh put that down. This is the fifth time this month you’ve quit.”

 

“And if you don’t get outta here and let me get back to work, I might be quitting for a sixth time.”

 

She shoved her purse back under the counter as Carl said to me, “Come on, Roy. I know better than to put her to the test.”

 

“That’s right!” the woman called after us. “Don’t you go puttin’ me to the test, or you’ll find out that I really will quit one of these days.  Then won’t you be sorry, Mr. Smart Mouth.  You and Mr. Smart Mouth the Second both.”

 

“She means John,” Carl said out of the corner of his mouth as he led me to his office.

 

“I’m underpaid. Underappreciated. And understaffed.  Yet you men seem to think I enjoy nothin’ more than showin’ up here every day and bein’ at your beck and call. Well let me tell you something I--”

 

Carl shut his office door in the middle of her tirade. By the smile on his face, I assumed this was a familiar occurrence.

 

The police chief tapped one of the chairs across from his desk as he passed it.

 

“Have a seat.  And don’t mind Happie.  We’re so used to her that I forget her manners leave a lot to be desired.”

 

“Happie?”

 

Carl chuckled as he sat in the massive chair behind his desk.  “Yeah. Talk about an oxymoron, huh?  John always says her parents screwed up when they named her after that particular dwarf.  He says they shoulda’ called her Grumpy.”

 

I smiled, because that sounded exactly like something Johnny would say about the cantankerous woman I’d just met.

 

“But she’s a helluva clerk. Keeps everything in order around this place, and I do mean everything.  If we need new towels for the locker rooms, she’s the one who makes the trip to the Wal-mart in Juneau and picks ‘em up. If the lobby floor needs mopping, she’s the one who does it.  If six phones are ringing at one time, she handles every call without asking for help.  If there’s some kinda maintanence that needs to be done, three quarters of the time she does it herself, and if she can’t do it, she gets the guy who’ll do it for the best price, even if she has to search as far as Fairbanks to find him.”

 

“Sounds like the kind of person you need, then.”

 

“She is.  And the day John collapsed, she handled it better than any of us.  Called Bartlett right way and let ‘em know our paramedics were bringing him in and what they suspected was wrong. She was also the first one who comforted everyone – told us that he’d be okay and back to work before we knew it.” 

 

“Sounds like she’s a fan of Johnny’s.”

 

“Don’t think for one minute he doesn’t give her hell most of the time, and she doesn’t give it right back to him.  But you know how it is when you’ve worked with someone a long time.  A loyalty forms that helps you overlook the things you’d otherwise find annoying in a person.”

 

“Yeah, it sure does.”

 

“So what brings you here?  Where’s John?  I hope he’s not being a stubborn mule and sitting home alone.”

 

“He’s still being a stubborn mule, but no, he’s not at home. He’s down at the clinic in his physical therapy session.”

 

Carl smiled. “Well now. There’s some good news for a change.”

 

“I think so.”

 

Carl shifted his large frame and sat forward in his chair.  He shoved piles of computer manuals out of his way.  I recalled Clarice telling me that one of Carl’s current projects was installing a new system for the department.

 

“I hope I didn’t come by at a bad time.”

 

“Not at all.  If you waited for a good time lately, you’d never catch me during one. I miss John now more than ever.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“You bet.”  Carl grinned. “I could always talk him into doing things like climbing under desks and hooking up computers while I supervised. Or running electrical cables in the ceiling for me.”

 

“Those are just the kind of things Johnny would like.”

 

“The dirty work?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Yep, he’s a pretty good sport about it, that’s for sure.”  Carl’s grin left him. I could hear the concern and worry in his voice.  “How’s he doing, Roy?”

 

I thought a moment before answering.  I didn’t want to make things out to be better than they were, but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave Carl with the assumption that Johnny would never return to work. 

 

“Actually, I think he’s doing pretty good, all things considered.”

 

“Really?”

 

“As I keep telling Trevor, it’s too early for any of us to get our hopes up, but I’ve noticed improvement just in the five days I’ve been here.”

 

“You’re being here has been good for him then.”

 

“I don’t know if my presence has anything to do with it or not, but from what Trevor’s told me, Johnny’s talking a lot more than he was before I got here, and in some instances, his speech is clear and his sentences complete.”

 

“That’s a big leap forward.”

 

“Yeah, it is.  And I’ve got him helping me do things around the house – not always willingly – but he’s learning that he can do things for himself and Trevor without help.”

 

“And he’s going to physical therapy.”

 

“At least for today he is. We’ll have to see if this pattern continues.”

 

“Any other good news?”

 

“I’m getting him to do his exercises at home. We’ve also been playing a lot of card games and board games my daughter recommended.”

 

“Games?”

 

“To exercise his short term memory and force him to use math skills along with analytical thinking.”

 

“Almost sounds like fun.”

 

“For the most part, it has been.  And the good thing about playing cards and games is that Trevor can now participate in helping Johnny recover.”

 

“I bet that’s a plus for both John and Trev.”

 

“Seems to be.”

 

“What about that incident with the tractor last Thursday morning?  What really happened?”

 

            I remained loyal to Johnny where that question was concerned.

 

            “Plowing snow isn’t as easy as it looks.”

 

            “For you?” Carl cocked an eyebrow, his gaze intent and unwavering.  “Or for John?”

 

            I smiled.  “For either one of us.”

 

            Carl chuckled, but respected my refusal to share something with him that would humiliate Johnny.  He must have surmised, however, that the tipped over tractor was somehow tied to Johnny’s disappearance later that morning, because the next thing he asked was, “Where’d John go AWOL?”

 

            I ‘d never gotten a chance to call Carl back.  With as busy as I’d been helping Johnny run his household, assisting him with physical therapy, playing multiple hands of cards and other games, along with getting Trevor all the places he needed to be day in and day out, the opportunity to get in touch with Carl when Johnny wouldn’t overhear the conversation never presented itself.  It wouldn’t have made much difference if it had, since there wasn’t much I could tell the police chief about the incident.

 

            “Based on the amount of snow on his clothes when he walked in the door, he was outside somewhere.  Maybe in the woods behind the barn, although I looked there.”

 

            “John knows the National Forest better than most of the people who’ve lived in this town their entire lives.  If he didn’t want you to find him, then believe me, you wouldn’t have.”

 

            “Well I didn’t, if that’s even where he was.  He never said, and after some initial…upset on my part, I never asked.”

 

            Carl was quiet a moment.  He stared at the far wall where a framed picture hung of himself and Johnny in their dress uniforms.  They were standing next to one another, both looking uncharacteristically serious.

 

When the silence lingered, I asked, “Recent picture?”

 

The man didn’t immediately answer me.  When he finally tore his eyes from the photo he said, “It was taken just a few weeks before John collapsed. A copy of it was gonna be used in the booklet the Police and Fire Commission puts out each year detailing our budget, promotions within the department, new vehicles or equipment that were purchased, general news – stuff like that.”

 

“Was gonna be used?”

 

Carl’s eyes narrowed, as though he was suddenly angry about something.

 

“Uh…sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my--”

 

“No, that’s okay.  You can ask.  Trouble is, I don’t have much of an answer for you other than to say newcomers aren’t always welcome to a small town for a reason.  Know what I mean?”

 

I didn’t know what he meant, but before I could decide whether or not to question him further, a thin, balding man stuck his head into Carl’s office.

 

“Hey, Carl…oh…sorry.  Didn’t know you had someone in here.”

 

“That’s okay.  Phil, you remember Roy DeSoto.  John’s friend from--”

 

“L.A.  Sure, I remember.”

 

Johnny’s assistant chief Phil Marceau extended his right hand to me.  I stood and shook it.  Considering we’d met only once six years ago, we probably wouldn’t have recognized each other if we’d passed on the street, but I did remember being introduced to Phil, and Johnny had spoken of him from time to time over the years.

 

“Nice to see you again, Phil.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

The man’s gaze shifted to Carl as our handshake ended. 

 

“Tim Ellison was just on the phone. He wants to have a meeting at three-thirty.”

 

Carl didn’t ask what the meeting was about.  Based on his reaction, it was apparent he was well aware of the agenda.

 

“Oh for God’s sake.  Can’t the man give this some time?  Who the hell died and left him in charge?”

 

“I guess we did when we made him chairman last year.”

 

“Yeah, and it was the dumbest thing we’ve ever done.  If that asshole had only shown his true colors before the election…”

 

Carl let his sentence trail off and punctuated it with a frustrated sigh.  He ran a hand through his hair three times, causing the unruly mass to be even more unruly than it normally was.

 

Whatever was going on, the situation angered Carl.  By the expression on Phil’s face, I could tell he was upset too, though he didn’t look as angry as he looked worried. As though he didn’t like the thought of what he’d already concluded was going to happen at the meeting he’d spoken of.

 

Based on the sudden tension in the room, I knew it was time for me to leave.

 

“I’d better get going.  Nice seeing you again, Phil.”  I turned to Carl. “Talk to you later.”

 

“Yeah, Roy, later.  Say hi to John for me.”

 

“And for me too.”

 

“I will.”

 

Again, the degree of upset in the room was obvious. It wasn’t like Carl not to invite me to stick around and kill some more time before I had to pick up Johnny, or offer to get a cup of coffee and a doughnut with me at one of the restaurants in town.

 

It wasn’t until I was headed down the hallway that I remembered I hadn’t asked Carl about his mother.  I turned around and went back to his office.  The door was closed, and the curtains at the long slender windows that flanked the door had been pulled.  I stood there a few seconds with indecision before walking away.  Whatever was going on, it seemed serious enough that I didn’t think I should interrupt Carl again.   I figured I could call Clarice that evening after Trevor was home from school so both he and I could say hi to her and see how she was doing.

 

Chapter 44

 

The rest of that week and the two following it passed quickly.  I was able to get Johnny to attend his physical therapy sessions at the clinic without too much of a hassle on most days, and we continued to work on his exercises at home.  I shuffled Trevor from school, to hockey games, to basketball games, to his job at the airport, to the Methodist Church on the Saturdays or Sundays there was a teen outing of some sort.  In-between all of that, I talked to Joanne several times each week, graded the test papers Gene Reyer sent me and then e-mailed my students’ final grades to him, and stayed in touch with Clarice.

 

The woman’s health improved like her physician had hoped it would with rest and medication. As my third week in Eagle Harbor drew to a close, I was getting ready to buy a ticket for my return trip to L.A. and Clarice was getting ready to return to work for Johnny.  I had mixed feelings about that.  While I knew Clarice was capable of helping Johnny, I was worried he wouldn’t be as receptive to working with her as he had been to working with me.  He’d come a long way in the three weeks since I’d arrived, but he had a long way to go yet as well. I still wasn’t certain if he’d make a complete recovery, but the more he accomplished on his own each day, the more confidence I gained that maybe, just maybe, he’d eventually return to work with few side effects remaining from the burst aneurysm.

 

Trevor stood from the table and rushed to hug Clarice when she surprised us by walking in the door on Friday evening. We were eating a pizza I’d picked up in town after getting Trevor from school. 

 

“Clarice!”

 

The woman patted Trevor’s back as she turned his hug.  “Hi, luv.  Are you behaving for Papa and Uncle Roy?”

 

“They won’t let me do anything but behave.”

 

Clarice chuckled. “I imagine not.”

 

Johnny stood and hugged the woman when his son released her.  She held him at arm’s length, studying him from head to toe.

 

“You look good, John. Better than you did the last time I saw you.”

 

“You too,” Johnny said in return.  He turned and pulled out a chair. “Sit.  Eat.”

 

“I’ll sit for a minute, but I can’t stay.  I need to get to Renee’s.”  Clarice looked at me and explained, “My older brother.  I’m helping him.”

 

Trevor grabbed another piece of pizza from the box I’d set on the center of the table.  “Helping him do what?”

 

“He’s sick with the same thing I had.  Only worse.”

 

“Worse?” I questioned.

 

“His health isn’t good to begin with. He hasn’t taken care of himself since Jeannette – his wife – died a few years ago.”

 

Clarice came from a large family.  I couldn’t recall if Johnny had told me she was one of nine children or ten, but whatever the number was, Clarice was the second born and the oldest girl. The sister who took care of everyone. The sister who was seventy-three years old, and had no business trying to take care of a sick brother while also taking care of Johnny and his household, all on the heels of her own recovery.  I could surmise how easy it would be for Johnny to backslide without Clarice’s full attention on him.  I could also surmise how easy it would be for Clarice to have a relapse if she took on too much too soon.

 

I tried to sound nonchalant when I asked, “Does Renee´ have any children in the area?”

 

“No. His daughter lives in Seattle and both his sons are in the military.  Gaston’s in the Air Force, Marc’s a Marine. Gaston’s stationed in Florida. Marc’s in Saudi Arabia.”

 

I nodded around a bite of pizza.  I let the conversation move on.  Trevor eagerly caught Clarice up on everything that had been happening in his life for the past three weeks, as well as what was happening with everyone in Eagle Harbor.  Or so it seemed as he chattered on, mentioning names and events that meant little to me.  Johnny watched with amusement but didn’t try to join the conversation, which was exactly what I was afraid would happen with Clarice’s attention on so many other concerns, from an active thirteen year old boy, to an ill elderly man.

 

When we finished eating, Trevor jumped up from the table.

 

“Can you take me to the twins’ now, Uncle Roy?”

 

I started to get up. “Sure.”

 

“I’ll be right back. I just need to get my stuff.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Clarice looked at Johnny and me.  “He’s going to the Teirmans’?”

 

Johnny nodded. “Slee’ o’er.”

 

“A sleepover?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He doesn’t have to work tomorrow?”

 

“No.  As-asked Gus off lon-long time ‘go.  Tins-twins’ birthday.”

 

Clarice didn’t question Johnny further.  I assumed she understood enough of what he’d said to realize Trevor had asked Gus for this Saturday off of work some time ago. Dylan and Dalton were turning fourteen. They were celebrating the event with a weekend sleepover that included Trevor and five other boys.

 

“There’s no need for you to take him, Roy.  I can drop him off.  I drive right by the Teirmans’ on my way to Renee’s.”

 

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

 

“No trouble at all.”

 

I didn’t object to that.  I wasn’t looking forward to going back out in the cold. 

 

            Trevor called down the stairs, “Hey, Pops, can I borrow your red sweater for when we go snowboarding tomorrow?”

 

            “You shouldn’t let him do that,” Clarice scolded, as Johnny stood to go upstairs. “He only wants to wear your sweater so he doesn’t have to wear a coat.”

 

            “I know.”

 

            “He’ll put a couple of sweatshirts underneath it and claim that’s all he needs in the middle of winter while he’s snowboarding down a mountain.”

 

            “I know.”

 

            “But you’re going to give him the sweater anyway.”

 

            Johnny grinned at the woman.  “Coat no--not coo--cool.”

           

            “So Trevor says.”

 

            Johnny smiled and nodded, while Clarice shook her head and pretended to be exasperated.

 

            “I’ll never understand you men.  If he comes home sick, don’t blame me.”

 

            “I won--won’t.”

 

            “Pops!”

 

            “Coming!”

 

            After Johnny was upstairs, Clarice turned to me.  “He’s walking better.  The limp’s barely noticeable.”

 

            “He’s improved quite a bit in the past three weeks.”

 

            “You must be good for him.”

 

            “Or good at making him the tow the mark.”

 

            Clarice chuckled right along with me. “Maybe that’s it.”

 

            I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Johnny was still occupied with his son on the second floor.  When I didn’t hear him coming back down the stairs, I focused on Clarice again.

 

            “Sounds like you’re going to be busy for the next couple of weeks helping your brother and Johnny both.”

 

            “They’ll keep me hopping, that’s for sure.”

 

            “Then how about if I stay.”

 

            “Oh, Roy, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve been here three weeks already.”

 

            “You didn’t ask. I volunteered. And besides, I’m finally getting used to an Alaskan winter.”

 

            “And probably ready to go back to California because of it.”

 

            “No, not really.  Clarice…Clarice, I’d like to stay.  I want to.  You shouldn’t be pushing yourself right now.  You just got over being sick.  If you do too much you’ll end up right back in bed. Or in the hospital.”

 

            “That’s what Carl said.”

 

            “He’s right.  And there’s no use in risking that since I can hang around for a few more weeks.”

 

            “What’ll Joanne say?”

 

            “She’ll say to do whatever I need to for Johnny.”  I smiled. “Besides, she’s probably enjoying her vacation from me.”

 

            Clarice reached over and patted my hand.  “I can’t imagine Joanne would be in any hurry to get rid of a sweet man like you. Or have him gone from home very long.”

 

            My face flushed.  “Well…uh…you know, she’s busy with her job and the grandkids.  Plus Chris and Jennifer live close by if she needs help with anything.  It’s not a problem for me to stay until Renee’s better.”

 

            “Okay, if you say so, but let me warn you, Renee’s a lonely old hypochondriac, so once he knows he has command of my time and attention he’ll take advantage of it.”

 

            “That’s okay.  Like I said, I have several free weeks at my disposal yet.”

 

            “Will you tell John, or should I?”

 

            “I’ll tell him.  I don’t think it’ll be a big deal either way.”

 

            Clarice smiled. “He’s gotten kind of used to having you around, hasn’t he?”

 

            “Yeah, I guess he has.  And I’ve gotten kind of used to being around, to tell you the truth.  I’d like to see him make some more progress before I leave for home.”

 

            “You’re a good friend to him, Roy.”

 

            “Just like he is to me.”

 

            “Fair enough then.  I’ll help Renee´, while you continue to help John.”

 

            “Sounds good.”

 

Trevor came down the stairs ahead of Johnny.  He had a backpack filled with clothes thrown over one shoulder, and a snowboard tucked under the opposite arm.  I hoped he didn’t arrive home with any broken limbs, but I kept my opinion to myself about a high-risk sport that allowed a lot of orthopedic surgeons to drive expensive cars and vacation in the Bahamas.  Johnny knew the risks as well as I did.  Since he was Trevor’s father and I wasn’t, I wasn’t foolish enough to overstep my bounds and say something that wouldn’t be welcome by either Johnny or Trevor.

 

“Maybe by next winter you’ll be snowboarding again, huh, Papa?”

 

“May--maybe.”

 

I looked at Johnny as he and Trev entered the kitchen.

 

“You snowboard?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

I shook my head in a teasing motion of disbelief.  Only Johnny Gage wouldn’t think anything of sailing down the slopes on a snowboard at the age of fifty-nine.

 

“Migh--might even go now.”

 

Before I could inform Johnny that the last thing he needed to be doing right now was snowboarding, Clarice did it for me.

 

“You most certainly will not, John Gage. You’re just starting to walk better.  The last thing you need is a broken leg.  If you think--”

 

Clarice didn’t get a chance to finish before Johnny started laughing.  That’s when both she and I realized we were being played for fools.  She swatted his arm as she stood.

 

“Oh you.”

 

I said goodbye to Clarice and Trevor, then cleaned up the kitchen while Johnny followed them to the laundry room.  I heard him tell Trevor to behave himself, and to call on Sunday morning when it was time to come home.

 

“Un’le Roy pick you up.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Johnny thanked Clarice for offering to drop Trevor off at the twins’ house, then watched through the glass door pane as they trudged through the snow to Clarice’s Explorer.

 

Once Trevor’s gear was stowed in the vehicle and they were headed down the driveway, Johnny came back to the kitchen. 

 

I held up the deck of cards.

 

“How about some two-handed poker?”

 

“All righ’.”

 

We sat across from one another.  I slid the deck to Johnny so he could shuffle and deal the cards.  I watched him, noting that his fine motor skills and coordination had improved in the weeks since my arrival.  Just goes to show what a little dedication to physical therapy, and about one hundred hands of cards, will do for a guy.

 

It wasn’t until we’d both picked up our cards and were studying them, that I brought up the possibility of me staying beyond that weekend.

 

“Sounds like Clarice’ll have her hands full the next couple of weeks.”

 

“Yeah.  Renee’s ni--nice guy, but no--not easy put up with.”

 

“Clarice mentioned something to about that.  He’ll keep her busy, huh?”

 

“Twenty-four how--hours a day if can…if he can.”

 

I was proud of the way Johnny had begun correcting his own speech over the past few days, but I didn’t comment on that.  First of all, I’d learned drawing attention to his speech only embarrassed him, and second of all, I was afraid he’d become self-conscious about his efforts if I said anything about them. 

 

“She’s just getting back on her feet.  I hate to see her take on too much, you know?”

 

Johnny nodded.  “Me too.”

 

“So because of that, I told her I could stay here a few more weeks…help you and Trevor out like I’ve been doing, while she divides her time between Renee´, and continuing to get some rest herself.”

 

I didn’t know what type of reaction to expect from Johnny.  I braced myself for anything that ranged from being told a firm, “No,” to being told I’d been gone from Joanne too long already and should return home, to being told to “Get out.”  It wasn’t that I necessarily expected the latter, but given that Johnny was less than thrilled when I arrived, I had to face the fact that I might have overstayed my welcome as a houseguest, and that he was ready to see me go.

 

The reaction I finally got wasn’t one I’d even considered.  He laid his cards face down on the table and reached his right hand out to me.  For just a second I was confused as to what he wanted; then I smiled while clasping his hand in mine and accepting his shake of gratitude.

 

“Than’ you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The vulnerabilities and fears were still on the surface.  All of Johnny’s doubts about where his health would eventually take him were easy to read just by looking at his face.  And right beneath those doubts was relief.  As though he thought I was the best chance he had at getting his old life back. 

 

I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I was more than willing to continue helping Johnny so he could regain all he lost on that January afternoon when he’d collapsed at the fire station.

 

 

Chapter 45

 

It was the ringing telephone that ended our handshake.  Johnny hadn’t been answering the phone since my arrival, and though I thought it was something he should start doing, I didn’t say anything about it right then.  I filed it away on my mental, “Things I need to make Johnny start doing” list, while standing.  I picked up the receiver from its base.

 

“Hello. Chief Gage’s residence.”

 

“Hello,” a pleasant female voice said in return. “Is John there?”

 

“Just a second.”

 

I held the phone out to Johnny. “It’s for you.”

 

“Who?”

 

I shrugged.  “A woman.”

 

“Ask who.”

 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him and say, “When we worked together you practically broke your neck racing to the phone every time someone told you a woman was on the other end asking for you.”

 

I put the receiver back to my ear.

 

“Can I ask who’s calling please?”

 

“This is Trevor’s mother Ashton.”

 

I felt like a secretary, and a bad one at that, when I said, “Hold on please.”

 

I thrust the receiver at Johnny again.  “It’s Ashton.”

 

He shook his head.  “No.”

 

“Johnny--”

 

“No.”

 

I sighed, and once again put the receiver back to my ear.  Before I could say anything, Ashton spoke.

 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, does he.”

 

“Uh…no.  No, not right now.”

 

“Is this Roy?”

 

Although I’d never spoke to or met the woman, she’d called several times since I’d arrived and talked with Trevor. I assumed he’d probably told her I was there helping Johnny.

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Roy.  In a manner of speaking, that is.”

 

“Nice to meet you too.”

 

“Trevor’s told me a lot about you and your family over the years.”

 

“He’s told us a lot about you too.”

 

“So now that we’ve gotten the introductions out of the way, would you please tell John to quit putting you in the middle and talk to me.”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Please.”

 

I got the impression that Ashton wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.  I held the phone out to Johnny again, probably looking as uncomfortable and uncertain as I felt. 

 

He shot me a disgusted look, but took the receiver.  His “Hi” was clipped and tight.

 

From the one-side of the conversation I heard, I think Ashton’s only intention was to hear from Johnny himself how he was doing, and to wish him well.  All her news so far had come from Trevor.  It was understandable that she’d want to talk to her child’s father and find out more, especially given her medical background. Why she’d waited two months to do that, I didn’t know.  Maybe she knew a phone call from her prior to that wouldn’t have been welcome.  Or maybe she’d waited until Trevor told her Johnny’s speech had improved.  Or maybe this phone call was as hard for her as it was for Johnny.

 

His speech reverted to being more garbled when he spoke to Ashton than it was normally now, but I assumed that was because she’d caught him off-guard by calling. Given his concerns recently about her trying to take custody of Trevor from him, it was understandable that talking to her made him nervous.  They spoke for about ten minutes, then he told her goodbye, hit the “off” button on the phone, and returned it to the base.

 

As he sat back down I said, “Sorry.”

 

“Not you--your faul’.”

 

“She’s pretty insistent.”

 

He laughed.  “Tell me ‘bou…tell me about it.”

 

“So…is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah.  She just want talk…to talk.  Find out how I do-I’m doing.”  He shook his head as he studied his cards. “Funny.”

 

“What’s funny?”

 

“Years ago, when I want-wanted talk…to talk, she didn’t wanna listen.”

 

That’s where he ended the conversation about Ashton. He didn’t bring her name up again until after we’d played poker for two hours, and were washing down the leftover pizza with cans of Coke.

 

 

Chapter 46

 

            “Ashton Margaret Riley, will you marry me?”

 

            He’d never proposed to a woman on bended knee before, let alone rehearsed what he was going to say days prior to the proposal.  Johnny forced his hands not to shake when opening the red velvet box he’d taken from his suit coat pocket.  He held the diamond ring out to her. 

 

            “Oh…oh, John.  John…you…you shouldn’t have.”

 

            Ashton’s right hand brushed over the ring that cost Johnny eight thousand dollars.  It was an outrageous amount of money to spend on a piece of jewelry in his opinion, but after three years of living with Ashton, Johnny knew her tastes ran toward the “Three X’s” as he’d come to think of them – expensive, extravagant, and excessive.  That factor had sparked several fights over the years, whenever Johnny said they couldn’t afford something and Ashton went out and purchased the item anyway, often times using money she got from her parents.  She didn’t seem to understand what a blow to his ego that was, no matter how many times he’d tried to explain that when they bought things as a couple, it should be their money affording them whatever the luxury was Ashton wanted, not her parents’ money.

 

            “I’m forty-two years old, Ashton.  How do you think I feel when I find out your parents’ money bought the new furniture in the great room, or paid for the lodge we stayed in when we met them in Vermont last winter?”

 

            “It shouldn’t make you feel any way but happy.”

 

            “Happy!  Why do you think it would make me happy?”

 

            “Because my parents want us to have the best.”

 

            No, they want you to have the best, Johnny thought each time they had arguments over money.  I’m just benefiting because I’m the guy who’s along for the ride.

 

            But on that night Johnny proposed, Ashton’s parents had nothing to do with the ring he’d purchased, or paying for the bouquet of flowers he’d had delivered before he and Ashton arrived at the Silver Rose, or writing the check for the small, private room Johnny’d rented that was off the main dining area. That amenity cost a fortune as well, but despite the occasional arguments he waged with Ashton over money, he always wanted to give her the best his budget allowed for because her love was worth more than he could put into words.

 

            Johnny shifted slightly and held back a wince.  He should have known better than to kneel on the leg that was broken when that hit and run driver mowed him down.

 

            “Oh…uh…John…oh…um…”

 

            Johnny smiled.  “Would you quit saying “oh,” and say “yes” instead.”

 

            “But I…John, you’ve caught me off-guard here. We didn’t talk about this.”

 

            “Yes we did.  We’ve talked about it a lot.”

 

            “Maybe “talked” wasn’t the word I should have used.”

 

            Johnny’s heart sunk.

 

            “What word should you have used?”

 

            “Discussed.  We didn’t discuss taking this next step.”

 

            Johnny snapped the box shut and shoved it back in his pocket. 

 

            “Sweetheart, don’t be angry with me. I--”

 

            “I’m not angry with you.”

 

            “But you’re hurt.  I can see it in your eyes.”

 

            Johnny stood and slid back into his seat.  What he really wanted to do was race from the restaurant. He was embarrassed.  He was humiliated.  And to top it off, he felt like a fool for thinking he was so in-tune with Ashton that he’d never imagined she’d turn down his proposal.

 

            “John--”

 

            Thank God the meal was over.  If they hadn’t eaten first, Johnny’s botched proposal would have ruined their appetites and put a damper on the reason he’d gotten Ashton to the Silver Rose to begin with – under the guise of celebrating the completion of her internship.  Granted, that was an event worth celebrating, but Johnny had wanted to cap off the night in a way Ashton would never forget. Well, he’d done that all right, though it certainly hadn’t gone as he’d planned.

 

            “John, I’m sorry.” She reached for his right hand, placed hers on top of it, and squeezed.  “The ring…it’s beautiful.  This whole night has been wonderful.  I’ll never forget it.”

 

            “Maybe you should. Maybe we both should.”

 

            “No.  No, not at all.”

 

            “Why?  Apparently, we have no future together.”

 

            “What makes you say that?”

 

            “The ring’s back in my pocket and not on your finger. That’s what makes me say it.”

 

            “Oh, John, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

            “Ridiculous?”

 

            “I never said we didn’t have a future together. I’m just not ready to get married.”

 

            “Why not?”

 

            “Because I don’t have time for a wedding for one thing.”

 

            “How much time does a wedding take?  A few hours outta one day for the ceremony and reception.”

 

            Ashton laughed.  “A few hours?  I’m my parents’ only child.  Their only daughter.  My mother will draw this production out for a year.”

 

            “A year? How the hell can a wedding be drawn out for a year?”

 

            “First there’s the engagement party.  Then the showers – one for Dad’s side of the family, one for Mother’s side of the family, and one for old friends of my parents’.  Then one that includes the bridesmaids and friends of mine. Then--”

 

            “Can’t all of these showers be combined into one?”

 

            “Mother would never hear of it.”

 

            “Why?”

            “That’s just not how it’s done.”

 

            “Well I’ve got news for your mother.  When I married Kim, we eloped.  There wasn’t even one shower, let alone five or six.”

 

            “I can’t do that to my parents.”

 

            “What?  Elope?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “I wasn’t saying that you should.”  Though now that you mention it, it sounds like the way to go as far as I’m concerned. 

 

            “And after the engagement party and showers, Mother will want to spend countless hours shopping for my dress, and for my trousseau, and--”

 

            “Your what?”

 

            “Trousseau.  Things a bride needs for her home, like linens, and towels, and pots and pans, and--”

 

            “I thought that’s what all those showers are supposed to be for.  Besides, you don’t need linens, or towels, or pans, or much of anything else, either.  I’ve got all that stuff.”

 

            “But your things are…”

 

            “Are what?” Johnny questioned when Ashton let her sentence trail off unfinished.  “Not classy enough for you all of a sudden?  Don’t have designer labels?  Aren’t from the right stores?”

 

            “John, don’t be like that.  You know those kinds of things don’t matter to me.”

 

            “If that’s true, then why won’t you marry me?”

 

            “I just told you, I don’t have time to plan a wedding right now. I’ve just been accepted into a three-year fellowship program. You know what that means.  Long hours at the hospital, more studying, teaching, papers to write for medial journals, clinical--”

 

            “Or you could start working right now as a general practitioner and forget the fellowship.”

 

            “I have no desire to be a G.P.  You know that.  I’m a cardiologist.  And being a cardiologist means furthering my education through this fellowship program.”

 

            “Fine. I understand that.  But what I don’t understand is why we can’t get married.”

 

            The woman sighed.  “How many different ways can I say it?”

 

            “Forget the engagement party, the showers, and all that other crap.  We can get married right here in Denver next week.”

 

            “But Mother and Dad--”

 

            Johnny squeezed the woman’s hand.  “Please, Ashton, hear me out.  We can have a small ceremony with just a few close friends.  Maybe even get a justice of the peace to marry us on the condo’s deck, then have a small reception catered at our place for the people we invite.  You’ve got a few weeks free before your program starts.  We can fly to New York then and let your parents throw whatever kinda party they want to for us.  Maybe my family can fly there, too. If not, it’s no big deal. Dad’ll understand.  We can always spend a few days with him and Marietta later this year.”

 

            “It’ll never work.”

 

            “Why not?”

 

            “Mother and Dad will be devastated if they aren’t here to see me married.”

 

            “So we’ll invite them. We’ll invite my family too, if that’s the way you want it.”

 

            “But Mother will want to give us a reception.”

 

            “And she can.  We can fly to New York just like I said.  She can throw whatever kinda shindig she wants to.  She can invite every single Rockefeller she can manage to unearth for all I care.”  Johnny squeezed the woman’s hand again. “I just want us to get married, Ashton.  It’s…it’s time to make what we have together permanent, don’t you think?”

 

            “It is permanent.”

 

            “No it’s not.”

 

            “And the only thing that will make it permanent in your eyes is a marriage license?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “Then we’ll have to wait a while.”

 

            “How long?”

            “I…” her eyes flicked from Johnny’s face for a moment, then reluctantly returned.  “I don’t know, John. This fellowship program…it’s intense.  You know that. I just don’t foresee getting married before it ends.”

 

            “So that means what? I have to wait three more years?”

 

            “I…I don’t know.  Maybe not, but I don’t want to make any promises, either.”

 

            “Ashton, we’ve been together three years already.  I don’t know if I wanna wait three more to get married.  I’d like to have a couple of kids before I’m so old that I’m sittin’ in a wheelchair when I toss ‘em a baseball.”

 

            Ashton wriggled her hand from Johnny’s grasp.  “Whoa. Whoa.  Now you’re getting way ahead of me.”

 

            “Ahead of you?”

 

            “I don’t know if I want children.  Frankly, it’s not something I consider very often, and when I do, the thought isn’t appealing.”

 

            She’d said things like that before, but Johnny had always assumed when the time was right – after they’d been married for a little while and Ashton was settled into her career – she’d be ready to take some time off and have two or three children.

 

            “Ashton--”

 

            “There’s nothing more you can say tonight that’s going to change my mind about us getting married in the near future. If you want me to go back to the condo, pack my things and move out, I will.”

 

            His gut constricted as though someone had kicked him with a size 14 steel-toed boot.

 

            “No, that’s not what I want.”

 

            “Then can you accept my answer?”

 

            “I guess I don’t have much choice.”

 

            “You can ask me to leave.”

 

            “I don’t want you to leave, Ashton.”

 

            “Then--”

 

            Ashton’s sentence was cut-off when the room’s door swung open.  A waiter entered pushing a silver cart.

 

            “Here’s the champagne, Mr. Gage.”

 

            With everything that had gone on inside this private dining room during the past ten minutes, Johnny had forgotten about the champagne he’d ordered when he made this evening’s reservation.  It was supposed to be an additional way to celebrate their engagement.  Now it simply represented all the hopes Johnny had brought to this night that died when Ashton refused his proposal.

 

            “Thank you,” Johnny mumbled. 

 

            “Would you like me to pour each of you a glass?”

            “Uh…no.  No, thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

 

The waiter gave a short bow.    “As you wish, Sir.”

 

            After the waiter left, Johnny flicked a thumb to the champagne chilling in a sterling silver bucket on top of the cart.

 

            “Want some?”

 

            “Um…no.  No, thank you.”

 

            “We can celebrate something besides the engagement I bought it to celebrate.  The completion of your internship. Or your acceptance into the fellowship program.  Or heck, how about the fact that the sun was shining today?  Take your pick.”

 

            “John…”

 

            “What?”

            “Please don’t sound so bitter.  So angry. That’s not like you.”

           

            “I’m not bitter.  I’m not angry either.”

 

            “Then what are you?”

            The paramedic stared into the woman’s eyes for a long time before he finally admitted, “Disappointed, Ashton.  I’m disappointed.”

 

            Johnny poured himself a glass of champagne and downed it in three swallows.  He’d never cared much for the taste of the bubbly liquor, but that night he drank six glasses in rapid succession.  What the hell, he might as well get his money’s worth out of their “celebration.”

 

            When they left the Silver Rose thirty minutes later, Ashton insisted on driving.  Johnny didn’t argue with her.  He was drunk, and he didn’t even try and deny it.  He hadn’t been drunk in so long he couldn’t remember the last time.  Certainly not in all of the years he’d been with Ashton.   If it bothered her to see him that way, she never said.  She navigated her Mercedes to the condo, pulled it into the garage, and parked it in its usual spot to the right of the Land Rover.

 

            Johnny didn’t wait for her.  He fumbled with his key until he was finally able to insert it in the door, entered the condo, and headed for the bedroom. He shut the door and locked it, ignoring Ashton’s pleas to let her in as she repeatedly knocked. 

 

            At five o’clock the next morning, Johnny found Ashton in the guest bed. He climbed in beside her, cradling her against his chest while stroking her hair and apologizing for being such an ass.

 

Despite the fact that she’d turned down his proposal, and despite the pounding headache that reminded him of how much he hated champagne, Johnny let the woman make love to him.  He wanted their life together to last forever.  He wanted to get married as soon as possible, but if he had to be patient until Ashton was ready then so be it, because as far as Johnny was concerned, having Ashton Riley as his wife would be well worth the wait.

 

Part 8