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Disclaimer: Disclaimers are boring. If you really want to know, see chapter 1, otherwise just read on. -(10/11/03)
Stumbling Toward Nirvana
By Phenyx Chapter 10
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"You can't put this decision off forever, Mr. Parker," the middle aged woman said gently.
With a sigh the dark-haired, dark-eyed young man slumped into the leather chair and propped his elbows on the large mahogany desk. "I know, Linda," he nodded. "His social skills are deteriorating more every year. But he doesn't mean any harm."
"I never suggested that he did," the older woman said. "Your uncle needs specialized care. The Centre just isn't the place for him anymore."
Loosening his very expensive tie, Mr. Parker leaned his head wearily against the back of his chair. "Uncle Martin has lived here all his life. He's never known anything else. I'm afraid so drastic a change will be too much for him."
Kind eyes gazed across the desk with understanding. "You feel sorry for him. Hell, we all do. Martin is a sweet boy. But he's isolated here. Pinewood is the perfect place for him. There are medical facilities that can deal with his disability while teaching him some simple skills."
"This is an old argument, Laura," the younger man sighed.
"Yes," she agreed crossing her arms determinedly. "One that has yet to be resolved. Your Uncle Martin has a mental disability. That isn't going to go away."
"I hate the idea of locking him up in some strange place," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the headache that was forming. "It wasn't his fault that there was a lack of oxygen during his birth."
Laura nodded. "And it wasn't his fault that he was relegated to the bowels of this facility all his life. But why keep him locked away in this familiar place when Pinewood will be so much better for him in the long run?"
"I don't want to see him hurt," the man's smooth brow furrowed with concern. "Worse yet, I don't want to see my mother hurt. You know how she feels about this."
"If you keep ignoring the problem," Laura said sternly. "Someone will eventually get hurt."
"I know. I know. I'll figure something out by the time I get back," he promised. "I can't worry about anything else until the babies come."
"Speaking of which," Laura said, dropping the issue for the time being. "I've got something for you to take home to Mrs. Parker." With a flourish, the woman produced a large package that she had been surreptitiously hiding behind her back.
"Laura," the younger man gasped. "You didn't need to do this!"
"I know," she replied handing over the present. "I wanted to. It's nothing really, just blankets and two pair of booties."
Dark eyes sparkled up at her, "And you crocheted them yourself, right?"
Laura smiled shyly. "Well, yes," she admitted.
"If it's anything like the receiving blanket you made for Angela when she was born," he grinned. "Then I'm sure it's beautiful." Rising from his seat, Mr. Parker took the package and smiled fondly at his assistant. At his full height of six-foot four inches, he towered over the diminutive little woman and was forced to bend over to kiss her blushing cheek. "How did I manage to find such a great secretary?" He asked.
Laura laughed. "You didn't you rascal. Your wife found me and you know it."
"She wanted to make sure there was someone to keep me out of trouble when she isn't around," was the wry response.
"It's a tough job," Laura said, only half-joking.
"And I pay you well to do it," her boss said in a slightly scolding tone.
The thin, slightly aging woman smiled jovially. Working for The Centre had always been difficult. Laura had been an employee for nearly twenty-five years. For the first two decades, she had been a low level clerk, skulking in and out of her cubicle everyday and trying hard not to be noticed.
Then Mr. Parker had come. He had swooped in with new ideas and new ways of doing things. He had been very young, fresh out of Harvard with a Master's degree in business and finance. At the tender age of twenty-two, he had become one of the youngest corporate chairmen in the country.
Choosing Laura Becker from a swarm of similarly qualified men and women, Mr. Parker had raised her to the rank of administrative assistant to the Centre chairman. Her life had never been the same. These past five years, Laura had worked harder than she ever imagined. Mr. Parker's intelligence and stamina never ceased to amaze her. She was unquestioningly devoted to him and had come to care deeply about the boy. In return, he treated her as much more than an assistant.
Charles Parker yanked harder at his tie until the knot gave way. Sliding the silk from his collar he carelessly balled it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his well-tailored suit.
"I feel like I'm forgetting something," he said glancing around furtively.
Laura snorted. "Not likely," she drawled.
Nodding absently as he tucked the present under one arm, Charles took his briefcase in one hand. "If you need me," he began.
"I'll call you," she sighed. "You've worked from your office at home before."
"Yes," Mr. Parker rolled his eyes. "But never for an entire month. When Angela was born I was only out of the office for a week."
"It was closer to two weeks," Laura corrected. "So with twice as many babies, you should take twice as much time. Besides, once those twins are born, you won't give this place a second thought."
Grinning broadly, her boss answered, "You're right." With another quick peck on the cheek, Mr. Parker bid his secretary a fond farewell. "Hold down the fort, Laura."
"Go home," she ordered. "Call me when the babies come."
Charlie left the office, swinging his briefcase merrily. As he strode through the corridors, a series of employees wished him luck. He nearly bounced with excitement as he went down the stone stairs leading to the parking lot. He opened his car door and tossed his briefcase onto the front passenger seat. Climbing in behind the steering wheel, Charles started the car and began the forty-minute drive home.
As he drove, Charlie reflected upon the day's events. Overall it had been a productive afternoon. Everything was ready for the chairman's month long absence from the Centre. Charlie had surrounded himself with good, trustworthy people. His confidence in them was unshakeable. Things would run smoothly in his absence, of that Charlie had no doubt.
Charlie's only concern was in regards to his uncle Martin. Laura was right. Keeping Martin at the Centre because it was easier just wasn't fair to the other man. Part of Charlie's reluctance was due in large part to guilty feelings on his part. Martin was only a handful of years older than his nephew. If the man had been of sound mind, Martin would now be chairman rather than Charlie.
In some ways, Charlie felt as though he was living the life that Martin had been denied. The more his life improved, the worse he felt about Uncle Martin. And Charlie had a really good life. He was blessed and he knew it. Charlie had a wife whom he absolutely adored and a beautiful two-year old little girl. He also had twin sons who were ready to make an appearance any day now. He had a lovely home and a job he loved. In addition, his parents were both in good health and lived at the summerhouse not far away. Though until the twins came, Charlie's folks would be staying in the guest room at his place to help with Angela and the new babies.
Charles Parker was indeed a lucky man. Always had been really. His parents had seen to that.
No child had ever received more love and affection than Charlie had growing up. Granted, his parents had been over-protective to the extreme. As a result, Charlie had led a very sheltered life. Home schooled by both his mother and father, Charlie's education had been rather eclectic, consisting of philosophy, literature, finance and music. High ethics and a deep sense of honor had been drilled into him for as long as Charlie could remember.
His parents' protectiveness bordered on the obsessive until Charlie had finally rebelled. Smothered by their need to keep him safe, Charlie had been forced to break from his parents rather suddenly. Not that Charlie didn't understand their wariness, he did.
Charlie had always been well aware of the fact that he'd been abducted as a small child. Even now, he had vague memories of the incident. Running through dark corridors, an overflowing sink, the fearful sound of his mother's screams. But they were mere images to him now. No longer real actions in his mind. But to his parents, the danger was as tangible as if it had happened yesterday.
They had only wanted to protect him. But Charlie was outgoing and inquisitive. He had always felt safe. So when he had turned seventeen, Charlie had applied to and been accepted by Harvard, more than fifteen hundred miles from home. What had ensued was the worst battle of his young life.
His mother had been furious. His father had simply forbidden him to go. But Charlie had been determined. They had tried demanding, pleading and even negotiating for more time. He could not have picked a worse time to leave home, his father had told him. It was a dangerous time, he had said.
Charlie did not understand the correlation between the death of a grandfather he had never known and his parents' fear. On the contrary, Charlie had felt that it was more important than ever for him to learn more about the world and the people in it. If what his father had told him was true, the death of Charlie's grandfather had left him heir to a rather impressive corporation.
Regardless of who was trying to take it from him now, once the estate had been processed through probate court, if Charlie didn't know what to do with his newly acquired fortune, he would lose it some other way. Finally, Charlie had told his parents that he was going and there was little they could do to stop him.
Knowing their son for the stubborn mule that he was, Charlie's parents had let him go. But not before teaching him to be a crack shot with a pistol. Less than a month after Charlie had started his first term, his parents had moved to an old house in Delaware, only a six-hour drive away from the college. Looking back on it now, Charlie suspected that his folks had kept a much better eye on him than he realized.
But the years spent in Massachusetts had been good ones for Charlie. He had learned to fit in with other young people to an extent. Being so much younger than the other students had been difficult at first. The highly competitive environment at an ivy-league school had made him more than a few enemies. Charlie was a brilliant young man from an affluent background. His naiveté had made him an easy target. But his charm had served him well. He had made friends, slowly at first, but with increasing ease and frequency.
During his first term as a senior, Charlie had met a very special girl. With her auburn hair and jade green eyes, Charlie thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever met aside from his own mother. Heather was a slender, athletic girl attending Harvard on a literary scholarship. She was nineteen, like many of the other freshmen. Charlie was two months older.
For the first time in his life, Charlie had been embarrassed by his lack of social skills. He'd had no clue how to ask her out. After several bungled attempts, Heather finally managed to interpret his intentions and agreed to go to a movie with Charlie. The months that followed were marvelous. They discovered they had similar tastes in food and literature and spent many of their dates eating Chinese food from cartons as they debated over the classics.
They had lost their virginity to each other on a stormy night in October. They had snuggled blissfully in each other's arms afterward, listening to the thunder. The wind whipped at the curtains as the rain poured outside, sending a sprinkling mist of cold water into the room. The fact that Heather liked the windows open during a storm drew Charlie to her even more. When Charlie mentioned that he had never, NEVER, slept with the windows open, Heather had laughed and called him weird. Then she said she loved him and Charlie felt like a king.
The two were inseparable for the rest of the semester. Heather essentially moved into Charlie's apartment. For Thanksgiving, they had gone first to Delaware to see Charlie's folks, then to Ohio to meet Heather's. When they had parted for Christmas break, Charlie went home and asked his mother for her diamond ring. He intended to ask Heather to marry him the moment they reunited in January.
But Heather hadn't returned. On New Year's Day, her parents had been killed in a car accident. A drunk driver had hit them head on. They had died almost instantly. Charlie had flown to Ohio for the funeral and did his best to help, but Heather had wanted nothing to do with him. When she had finally returned to campus in the spring, Heather was a totally different person. Depression and despair darkened her life.
Charlie tried everything. But in her grief and anger Heather isolated herself from her friends. She had no other family. Charlie had done what he could. He had known death. He knew what it was to grieve. So he talked about his own experiences. He told Heather about his sadness at the death of his paternal grandparents when he was young. He prattled on about the shock of losing his beloved Uncle Jack.
Uncle Jack had been nothing short of a hero to young Charlie. When he'd been a boy, Charlie's Uncle Jack would abruptly appear in their lives every few months. With him he'd bring presents and stories of far away places. Charlie would sit on the floor at his uncle's feet and listen, enthralled by the man's extravagant tales. Even Uncle Jack's death had been heroic.
Four brothers, playing on a frozen pond, had suddenly fallen through the ice. Jack happened to be there and saw the accident happen. Without hesitation, he had jumped into the frigid water to search for the boys. By the time he'd found the first boy, there were several other onlookers doing their best to help haul the child to shore. Jack had gone back into the water and pulled out a second little boy. When he surfaced with the third child, Jack was pale and exhausted. His lips were a ghastly blue as his body began to succumb to hypothermia. But he refused to leave the last child behind. Jack had gone back into the water. Divers found his body and that of the fourth boy shortly after dark the same day.
Charlie had been devastated. He'd been only twelve-years-old at the time. Uncle Jack's death had been the greatest tragedy of his young life. He'd been hurt and angry. But time had healed his sorrow. Eventually Charlie had been able to think of his uncle without bursting into tears. One day, Heather would heal too and he'd told her so.
She had told him to mind his own damn business.
Charlie's relationship with Heather came to a screeching halt. She moved back to the dorm and started sleeping too much. Her grades dropped so low that her scholarship was revoked. Charlie discretely made arrangements for her to receive an "alternate scholarship". To this day, Heather did not know that Charlie had paid her tuition.
Heather became a shadow of the vivacious girl she had been. Charlie could do nothing but stand quietly at her side. He looked after her as much as she would allow him to do so. He made sure her place was relatively clean. He saw to it that she ate regularly. Heather pushed him away at every opportunity. But Charlie would not give up on her.
When summer came, rather than take classes straight through as he usually did, Charlie took Heather to Delaware. They stayed with his parents all summer long. Heather had her own room and everything between them was purely platonic. In the circle of love and security his parents provided, Heather began to find solace. She cried a great deal. Charlie's mother shared long walks with her as the two women talked about grief.
Charlie's mother and father were able to work wonders with the shattered young girl. They understood things, sorrow and pain, in a way Charlie could not fathom. At times, Charlie had felt like an outsider, unable to comprehend the shadows that surrounded these people he loved so dearly. It was only then that Charlie had begun to wonder about his parents' past and the darkness they both seemed to know so intimately.
Slowly, painfully, Heather learned to smile again. But the whirlwind romance she had shared with Charlie was gone as if it never existed. They were friends. Charlie, still desperately in love, carried the diamond ring in his pocket for more than a year, waiting.
For Heather's twenty-first birthday, Charlie went over the top. He hauled out every romantic cliché he could think of. There was a limousine and roses, a tuxedo and musicians playing violins. He chartered a jet and flew her to New York for a carriage ride through Central Park. It had worked. By morning, the ring in Charlie's pocket had been transferred to Heather's finger.
The running gag between them now was that Charlie had charmed the pants off her, literally. Heather's response was that he'd taken his good sweet time in doing it.
Charlie smiled to himself as he pulled into his driveway. The drive home always seemed to pass quickly when his thoughts centered on his wife and family rather than on work.
The house was a large rambling Victorian with a well-tended yard and magnificent gardens. Not that Charlie had either the time or the patience to work in the yard. That job was obsessively performed by the gray-haired old man currently crouched in the rose garden.
Retrieving his things from the car, Charlie strolled toward the house and stopped for a moment beside the roses.
"Are you weeding the flowers, Angelo?" Charlie asked.
"Not today," the wild haired man declared. "Digging worms." He said.
Charlie admired the large earthworm dangling from Angelo's fingertips.
"Need bait," Angelo added for further clarification.
"Ah," Charlie nodded. The only thing Angelo enjoyed more than gardening was fishing with Charlie's father. Charlie himself had never found the passion for that particular sport, though he did accompany the older men on occasion. "Well, have fun," Charlie said, affectionately patting Angelo on the back.
"Always do," was the wry response.
Charlie entered the house and set his briefcase and package on the table in the foyer. He slid his suit jacket from his shoulders as he walked down the hall and tossed the item carelessly over the wooden banister leading upstairs. He stopped in the archway between the hall and the livingroom and leaned casually against the wall.
Lying on the couch, fast asleep, was Charlie's very pregnant wife. Her bare feet, only slightly swollen at the ankles today, were propped up on several pillows. There was a light blanket tossed over the swell of her abdomen, accentuating her protruding stomach. Even standing several feet away, Charlie could see the covers shift as the children within her moved.
As though sensing his presence, Heather sighed wearily and blinked into wakefulness.
"Charles," she smiled. "How long have you been there?"
"Not long," he assured her. Moving into the room, Charlie perched on the edge of the coffee table and leaned over to kiss his wife. "How are we doing today?"
"We," she sighed. "Are trying out for the Olympic soccer team."
Charlie laughed tenderly as he splayed one large hand over Heather's belly. "You were the one who wanted a large family, Love."
"For future reference, Charles," she scolded him lovingly. "I'd like to have the rest of our children one at a time. Okay?"
"I'll try," Charlie said. "But you know what an over-achiever I am."
They laughed quietly together for a moment. Charlie slid to his knees on the floor and cuddled around his wife as best he could with the mound of babies between them.
"Where's Angela?" He asked.
"Your mother put her down for a nap," Heather replied, running her hands through Charlie's hair. "Did you get everything taken care of at the office?" She asked.
"Yep," Charlie grinned. "I'm all yours for the next four weeks."
"Great," she drawled, rolling her eyes. "Now I'll have you and your father both hovering over me all day."
"He hasn't been that bad, has he?" Charlie asked softly.
"Charles," Heather said kindly. "You know that I adore your dad. But he's absolutely driving me up the walls."
Charlie snickered. "Dad can be a pest when he's worried. Right now he is only concerned about you and the babies."
"I know, I know," she huffed. "But I swear to God, if he asks me if I'm having any pain even one more time this afternoon, I swear I'll go postal on his ass."
Charlie lifted Heather's legs and sat down on the cushion beside her. Almost absently, he began to rub her calves as he spoke. "I'll be the first to admit that Dad can be annoying at times. But he is a wonderful person."
"He is darling, he is," Heather said affectionately. "But could you please just ask him to back off a little? You're home now, he can relax a bit."
"I'll see what I can do," Charlie agreed reluctantly.
"I hate to be a bitch, Charles," she said apologetically. "But I just don't have the patience right now."
"You're entitled," he said. There was silence for a moment as Charlie continued to massage Heather's legs.
Humming with pleasure, Heather closed her eyes and sighed. "I do love your father, Charles."
"He loves you too," Charlie admitted.
"He makes me feel guilty, sometimes," Heather said quietly.
"Guilty?" Charlie frowned. "Why?"
"Because my father and I were never as close as you and Jarod," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Because, sometimes I miss my dad and I'll go to yours for comfort."
"Oh sweetheart," Charlie crooned. He pulled his wife onto his lap and wrapped protective arms around her. "Don't feel guilty about that. You and Dad both have so much love to share. I think it's wonderful that you can share some of it with each other."
"Do you think Jarod would have gotten along with my father?" Heather asked.
Charlie sighed tenderly. "They would have been great friends," he assured her.
"Does it ever bother you?" Heather asked. "That Jarod wasn't around when you were young?"
"No," Charlie answered without hesitation. "I was too little. I can barely remember a time when he wasn't a part of our lives." Charlie gave his wife a faraway smile. "One of my earliest memories is of my father."
Heather snuggled against Charlie's shoulder, reveling in his strength. "Tell me," she whispered dreamily.
"I must have been about four or five years old," Charlie began as he rubbed gentle circles over Heather's belly. "It was dark and I was in bed. Dad came into the room and nudged me awake. He said there was something he wanted to show me. So he scooped me off the bed, blankets and all." Charlie grinned as he lost himself in the memory. "There I was all wrapped up in a cocoon of bed linen. Snug as a bug you could say. Dad took me outside. It was snowing and everything had that soft muffled quality to it."
"He carried me in his arms as though I weighed nothing. I remember thinking how strong he was. He took me to an old tree stump in the back yard where he sat down. He put me in his lap and wrapped his coat around me to keep me warm."
Charlie smiled adoringly at his wife. "'Look Charlie,' he said to me. He pointed at the sky and we both looked straight up. There were these big fluffy snowflakes falling from a pitch-black curtain of night. They were sparkling like weightless diamonds as they fluttered soundlessly around us.
'The stars, Charlie,' he told me. 'The stars are sprinkling on us.'"
"It sounds wonderful," Heather sniffed tearfully.
"It was like magic," Charlie admitted with a whisper. "Even now, the smell of suede makes me think of my Dad and that night I spent wrapped in his jacket while the stars scattered around us."
"I love you," Heather sighed.
Charlie smiled. "I love you more," he answered.
They cuddled together for a long time until Heather drifted back to sleep. At this point in her pregnancy, rest was essential but nearly impossible to attain. Her moods would swing drastically from fits of fevered activity to bouts of total exhaustion. The babies kicking inside her made it difficult to sleep more than a few hours at a time.
Easing carefully away from his dozing wife, Charlie covered her tenderly with the blanket and quietly left the room. He kicked off his shoes and tiptoed upstairs to check on his little girl. Angela still slept soundly in her crib with one thumb tucked in her mouth and her little butt sticking up in the air.
Charlie's heart swelled at the sight of her. The child was so precious, so perfect. He stroked the fine light hair on her head and smiled in wonder. A week from now, this little tot would have two new brothers. Angela seemed to understand that concept and was adorably excited by the prospect.
Satisfied that Angela was well. Charlie went down to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of iced tea. With his drink in one hand, Charlie stood at the back door and looked out at the fields behind the house.
That was when he located his parents.
Charlie's mom and dad were sitting on the porch swing snuggling in each other's arms much like he and Heather had been doing a short time ago. His mother was smiling up into his father's sparkling brown eyes in a way that made Charlie grin. Charlie loved to watch them together, to see them when they thought no one else was looking. They were so in tune to each other, so aware of what the other was thinking. They rarely argued.
Charlie longed for the day when he would understand his wife's thoughts the way his dad seemed to do with his mother. But that would take time. Charlie's parents had known each other for a very long time, decades before their son had come along.
"Don't skulk in the shadows, Charlie," his mother's voice scolded him. "You make me nervous hiding over there."
Charlie grinned and pushed the screen door open. "I'm not hiding," he denied.
"Just eavesdropping," his mother said wryly, cocking one eyebrow at him.
"Maybe a little," Charlie admitted as he flopped into one of the nearby wicker chairs.
"We didn't hear you come in," his dad's deep voice purred.
Charlie smiled tauntingly. "You were probably too busy necking," he teased.
"Yup," his dad replied bluntly. This response earned him an elbow in the ribs from Charlie's mother.
"Have you talked to Heather?" Charlie's mother asked, effectively changing the subject.
He nodded. "I've been home for nearly an hour. We talked for a while. She's asleep now."
"She has been sleeping too much," Charlie's dad said with a frown.
"Rest is the best thing for her, Dad." Charlie said. "She'll need it soon enough." He sighed before continuing reluctantly. "You need to ease off a bit, Dad. You're seriously trying her patience."
"Told you so," Charlie's mother growled, giving her husband another jab to the ribs.
"Parker!" the older man pouted. "That hurts."
"Stop whining you big baby," she replied crossly as she tenderly ran one hand through the graying hair at his temples.
"I'm just worried about my daughter-in-law," he groused.
"I'm worried too," Charlie admitted. "Just try not to upset her, all right?"
"Are you okay, Baby?" Charlie's mother asked.
He shrugged. "Wearing a little thin perhaps, but I'll be fine. I just wish it would happen already."
Grey eyes gazed knowingly at him and Charlie had the odd sensation that his mother was reading his mind. "She'll be fine, you know," his mother said gently.
"Don't get me wrong," Charlie sighed. "I love the idea of more children. I just hate what she has to go through to get them."
"She'll be fine." The conviction in his mother's voice helped ease Charlie's concern only a little.
Charlie nodded thoughtfully for a moment. Then, in an action so like his father's, Charlie heaved a deep breath and pushed his worry aside.
"I'm hungry," Charlie said abruptly. "What's for dinner?"
"I hadn't thought about it yet," his mother replied with a grin. "What would you like?"
Charlie stood, taking his now empty glass with him. "I'll have something delivered."
As they watched their son wander back into the house, Jarod put his arm around his wife and with a push of one foot, set the swing into motion.
"You know what, Miss Parker?" he purred into her ear.
"What's that, Pez-head?" she smiled playfully.
"You've got an amazing kid," Jarod murmured. "You must have done something pretty special to deserve him."
"Yes," Parker agreed. Kissing Jarod lovingly on the forehead she whispered, "I finally let his daddy love me."
"I always did, you know," Jarod said as he traced Parker's lips with one finger.
She nodded. "I know."
"Parker?" Jarod asked. "Do you suppose this is happily ever after?"
"Yes," she replied. "Yes, I suppose it is."
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The End.
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Pretty sappy ending I know, but after all the cliffhangers, I felt you had earned one. Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it.
Stumbling Toward Nirvana
By Phenyx Chapter 10
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"You can't put this decision off forever, Mr. Parker," the middle aged woman said gently.
With a sigh the dark-haired, dark-eyed young man slumped into the leather chair and propped his elbows on the large mahogany desk. "I know, Linda," he nodded. "His social skills are deteriorating more every year. But he doesn't mean any harm."
"I never suggested that he did," the older woman said. "Your uncle needs specialized care. The Centre just isn't the place for him anymore."
Loosening his very expensive tie, Mr. Parker leaned his head wearily against the back of his chair. "Uncle Martin has lived here all his life. He's never known anything else. I'm afraid so drastic a change will be too much for him."
Kind eyes gazed across the desk with understanding. "You feel sorry for him. Hell, we all do. Martin is a sweet boy. But he's isolated here. Pinewood is the perfect place for him. There are medical facilities that can deal with his disability while teaching him some simple skills."
"This is an old argument, Laura," the younger man sighed.
"Yes," she agreed crossing her arms determinedly. "One that has yet to be resolved. Your Uncle Martin has a mental disability. That isn't going to go away."
"I hate the idea of locking him up in some strange place," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the headache that was forming. "It wasn't his fault that there was a lack of oxygen during his birth."
Laura nodded. "And it wasn't his fault that he was relegated to the bowels of this facility all his life. But why keep him locked away in this familiar place when Pinewood will be so much better for him in the long run?"
"I don't want to see him hurt," the man's smooth brow furrowed with concern. "Worse yet, I don't want to see my mother hurt. You know how she feels about this."
"If you keep ignoring the problem," Laura said sternly. "Someone will eventually get hurt."
"I know. I know. I'll figure something out by the time I get back," he promised. "I can't worry about anything else until the babies come."
"Speaking of which," Laura said, dropping the issue for the time being. "I've got something for you to take home to Mrs. Parker." With a flourish, the woman produced a large package that she had been surreptitiously hiding behind her back.
"Laura," the younger man gasped. "You didn't need to do this!"
"I know," she replied handing over the present. "I wanted to. It's nothing really, just blankets and two pair of booties."
Dark eyes sparkled up at her, "And you crocheted them yourself, right?"
Laura smiled shyly. "Well, yes," she admitted.
"If it's anything like the receiving blanket you made for Angela when she was born," he grinned. "Then I'm sure it's beautiful." Rising from his seat, Mr. Parker took the package and smiled fondly at his assistant. At his full height of six-foot four inches, he towered over the diminutive little woman and was forced to bend over to kiss her blushing cheek. "How did I manage to find such a great secretary?" He asked.
Laura laughed. "You didn't you rascal. Your wife found me and you know it."
"She wanted to make sure there was someone to keep me out of trouble when she isn't around," was the wry response.
"It's a tough job," Laura said, only half-joking.
"And I pay you well to do it," her boss said in a slightly scolding tone.
The thin, slightly aging woman smiled jovially. Working for The Centre had always been difficult. Laura had been an employee for nearly twenty-five years. For the first two decades, she had been a low level clerk, skulking in and out of her cubicle everyday and trying hard not to be noticed.
Then Mr. Parker had come. He had swooped in with new ideas and new ways of doing things. He had been very young, fresh out of Harvard with a Master's degree in business and finance. At the tender age of twenty-two, he had become one of the youngest corporate chairmen in the country.
Choosing Laura Becker from a swarm of similarly qualified men and women, Mr. Parker had raised her to the rank of administrative assistant to the Centre chairman. Her life had never been the same. These past five years, Laura had worked harder than she ever imagined. Mr. Parker's intelligence and stamina never ceased to amaze her. She was unquestioningly devoted to him and had come to care deeply about the boy. In return, he treated her as much more than an assistant.
Charles Parker yanked harder at his tie until the knot gave way. Sliding the silk from his collar he carelessly balled it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his well-tailored suit.
"I feel like I'm forgetting something," he said glancing around furtively.
Laura snorted. "Not likely," she drawled.
Nodding absently as he tucked the present under one arm, Charles took his briefcase in one hand. "If you need me," he began.
"I'll call you," she sighed. "You've worked from your office at home before."
"Yes," Mr. Parker rolled his eyes. "But never for an entire month. When Angela was born I was only out of the office for a week."
"It was closer to two weeks," Laura corrected. "So with twice as many babies, you should take twice as much time. Besides, once those twins are born, you won't give this place a second thought."
Grinning broadly, her boss answered, "You're right." With another quick peck on the cheek, Mr. Parker bid his secretary a fond farewell. "Hold down the fort, Laura."
"Go home," she ordered. "Call me when the babies come."
Charlie left the office, swinging his briefcase merrily. As he strode through the corridors, a series of employees wished him luck. He nearly bounced with excitement as he went down the stone stairs leading to the parking lot. He opened his car door and tossed his briefcase onto the front passenger seat. Climbing in behind the steering wheel, Charles started the car and began the forty-minute drive home.
As he drove, Charlie reflected upon the day's events. Overall it had been a productive afternoon. Everything was ready for the chairman's month long absence from the Centre. Charlie had surrounded himself with good, trustworthy people. His confidence in them was unshakeable. Things would run smoothly in his absence, of that Charlie had no doubt.
Charlie's only concern was in regards to his uncle Martin. Laura was right. Keeping Martin at the Centre because it was easier just wasn't fair to the other man. Part of Charlie's reluctance was due in large part to guilty feelings on his part. Martin was only a handful of years older than his nephew. If the man had been of sound mind, Martin would now be chairman rather than Charlie.
In some ways, Charlie felt as though he was living the life that Martin had been denied. The more his life improved, the worse he felt about Uncle Martin. And Charlie had a really good life. He was blessed and he knew it. Charlie had a wife whom he absolutely adored and a beautiful two-year old little girl. He also had twin sons who were ready to make an appearance any day now. He had a lovely home and a job he loved. In addition, his parents were both in good health and lived at the summerhouse not far away. Though until the twins came, Charlie's folks would be staying in the guest room at his place to help with Angela and the new babies.
Charles Parker was indeed a lucky man. Always had been really. His parents had seen to that.
No child had ever received more love and affection than Charlie had growing up. Granted, his parents had been over-protective to the extreme. As a result, Charlie had led a very sheltered life. Home schooled by both his mother and father, Charlie's education had been rather eclectic, consisting of philosophy, literature, finance and music. High ethics and a deep sense of honor had been drilled into him for as long as Charlie could remember.
His parents' protectiveness bordered on the obsessive until Charlie had finally rebelled. Smothered by their need to keep him safe, Charlie had been forced to break from his parents rather suddenly. Not that Charlie didn't understand their wariness, he did.
Charlie had always been well aware of the fact that he'd been abducted as a small child. Even now, he had vague memories of the incident. Running through dark corridors, an overflowing sink, the fearful sound of his mother's screams. But they were mere images to him now. No longer real actions in his mind. But to his parents, the danger was as tangible as if it had happened yesterday.
They had only wanted to protect him. But Charlie was outgoing and inquisitive. He had always felt safe. So when he had turned seventeen, Charlie had applied to and been accepted by Harvard, more than fifteen hundred miles from home. What had ensued was the worst battle of his young life.
His mother had been furious. His father had simply forbidden him to go. But Charlie had been determined. They had tried demanding, pleading and even negotiating for more time. He could not have picked a worse time to leave home, his father had told him. It was a dangerous time, he had said.
Charlie did not understand the correlation between the death of a grandfather he had never known and his parents' fear. On the contrary, Charlie had felt that it was more important than ever for him to learn more about the world and the people in it. If what his father had told him was true, the death of Charlie's grandfather had left him heir to a rather impressive corporation.
Regardless of who was trying to take it from him now, once the estate had been processed through probate court, if Charlie didn't know what to do with his newly acquired fortune, he would lose it some other way. Finally, Charlie had told his parents that he was going and there was little they could do to stop him.
Knowing their son for the stubborn mule that he was, Charlie's parents had let him go. But not before teaching him to be a crack shot with a pistol. Less than a month after Charlie had started his first term, his parents had moved to an old house in Delaware, only a six-hour drive away from the college. Looking back on it now, Charlie suspected that his folks had kept a much better eye on him than he realized.
But the years spent in Massachusetts had been good ones for Charlie. He had learned to fit in with other young people to an extent. Being so much younger than the other students had been difficult at first. The highly competitive environment at an ivy-league school had made him more than a few enemies. Charlie was a brilliant young man from an affluent background. His naiveté had made him an easy target. But his charm had served him well. He had made friends, slowly at first, but with increasing ease and frequency.
During his first term as a senior, Charlie had met a very special girl. With her auburn hair and jade green eyes, Charlie thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever met aside from his own mother. Heather was a slender, athletic girl attending Harvard on a literary scholarship. She was nineteen, like many of the other freshmen. Charlie was two months older.
For the first time in his life, Charlie had been embarrassed by his lack of social skills. He'd had no clue how to ask her out. After several bungled attempts, Heather finally managed to interpret his intentions and agreed to go to a movie with Charlie. The months that followed were marvelous. They discovered they had similar tastes in food and literature and spent many of their dates eating Chinese food from cartons as they debated over the classics.
They had lost their virginity to each other on a stormy night in October. They had snuggled blissfully in each other's arms afterward, listening to the thunder. The wind whipped at the curtains as the rain poured outside, sending a sprinkling mist of cold water into the room. The fact that Heather liked the windows open during a storm drew Charlie to her even more. When Charlie mentioned that he had never, NEVER, slept with the windows open, Heather had laughed and called him weird. Then she said she loved him and Charlie felt like a king.
The two were inseparable for the rest of the semester. Heather essentially moved into Charlie's apartment. For Thanksgiving, they had gone first to Delaware to see Charlie's folks, then to Ohio to meet Heather's. When they had parted for Christmas break, Charlie went home and asked his mother for her diamond ring. He intended to ask Heather to marry him the moment they reunited in January.
But Heather hadn't returned. On New Year's Day, her parents had been killed in a car accident. A drunk driver had hit them head on. They had died almost instantly. Charlie had flown to Ohio for the funeral and did his best to help, but Heather had wanted nothing to do with him. When she had finally returned to campus in the spring, Heather was a totally different person. Depression and despair darkened her life.
Charlie tried everything. But in her grief and anger Heather isolated herself from her friends. She had no other family. Charlie had done what he could. He had known death. He knew what it was to grieve. So he talked about his own experiences. He told Heather about his sadness at the death of his paternal grandparents when he was young. He prattled on about the shock of losing his beloved Uncle Jack.
Uncle Jack had been nothing short of a hero to young Charlie. When he'd been a boy, Charlie's Uncle Jack would abruptly appear in their lives every few months. With him he'd bring presents and stories of far away places. Charlie would sit on the floor at his uncle's feet and listen, enthralled by the man's extravagant tales. Even Uncle Jack's death had been heroic.
Four brothers, playing on a frozen pond, had suddenly fallen through the ice. Jack happened to be there and saw the accident happen. Without hesitation, he had jumped into the frigid water to search for the boys. By the time he'd found the first boy, there were several other onlookers doing their best to help haul the child to shore. Jack had gone back into the water and pulled out a second little boy. When he surfaced with the third child, Jack was pale and exhausted. His lips were a ghastly blue as his body began to succumb to hypothermia. But he refused to leave the last child behind. Jack had gone back into the water. Divers found his body and that of the fourth boy shortly after dark the same day.
Charlie had been devastated. He'd been only twelve-years-old at the time. Uncle Jack's death had been the greatest tragedy of his young life. He'd been hurt and angry. But time had healed his sorrow. Eventually Charlie had been able to think of his uncle without bursting into tears. One day, Heather would heal too and he'd told her so.
She had told him to mind his own damn business.
Charlie's relationship with Heather came to a screeching halt. She moved back to the dorm and started sleeping too much. Her grades dropped so low that her scholarship was revoked. Charlie discretely made arrangements for her to receive an "alternate scholarship". To this day, Heather did not know that Charlie had paid her tuition.
Heather became a shadow of the vivacious girl she had been. Charlie could do nothing but stand quietly at her side. He looked after her as much as she would allow him to do so. He made sure her place was relatively clean. He saw to it that she ate regularly. Heather pushed him away at every opportunity. But Charlie would not give up on her.
When summer came, rather than take classes straight through as he usually did, Charlie took Heather to Delaware. They stayed with his parents all summer long. Heather had her own room and everything between them was purely platonic. In the circle of love and security his parents provided, Heather began to find solace. She cried a great deal. Charlie's mother shared long walks with her as the two women talked about grief.
Charlie's mother and father were able to work wonders with the shattered young girl. They understood things, sorrow and pain, in a way Charlie could not fathom. At times, Charlie had felt like an outsider, unable to comprehend the shadows that surrounded these people he loved so dearly. It was only then that Charlie had begun to wonder about his parents' past and the darkness they both seemed to know so intimately.
Slowly, painfully, Heather learned to smile again. But the whirlwind romance she had shared with Charlie was gone as if it never existed. They were friends. Charlie, still desperately in love, carried the diamond ring in his pocket for more than a year, waiting.
For Heather's twenty-first birthday, Charlie went over the top. He hauled out every romantic cliché he could think of. There was a limousine and roses, a tuxedo and musicians playing violins. He chartered a jet and flew her to New York for a carriage ride through Central Park. It had worked. By morning, the ring in Charlie's pocket had been transferred to Heather's finger.
The running gag between them now was that Charlie had charmed the pants off her, literally. Heather's response was that he'd taken his good sweet time in doing it.
Charlie smiled to himself as he pulled into his driveway. The drive home always seemed to pass quickly when his thoughts centered on his wife and family rather than on work.
The house was a large rambling Victorian with a well-tended yard and magnificent gardens. Not that Charlie had either the time or the patience to work in the yard. That job was obsessively performed by the gray-haired old man currently crouched in the rose garden.
Retrieving his things from the car, Charlie strolled toward the house and stopped for a moment beside the roses.
"Are you weeding the flowers, Angelo?" Charlie asked.
"Not today," the wild haired man declared. "Digging worms." He said.
Charlie admired the large earthworm dangling from Angelo's fingertips.
"Need bait," Angelo added for further clarification.
"Ah," Charlie nodded. The only thing Angelo enjoyed more than gardening was fishing with Charlie's father. Charlie himself had never found the passion for that particular sport, though he did accompany the older men on occasion. "Well, have fun," Charlie said, affectionately patting Angelo on the back.
"Always do," was the wry response.
Charlie entered the house and set his briefcase and package on the table in the foyer. He slid his suit jacket from his shoulders as he walked down the hall and tossed the item carelessly over the wooden banister leading upstairs. He stopped in the archway between the hall and the livingroom and leaned casually against the wall.
Lying on the couch, fast asleep, was Charlie's very pregnant wife. Her bare feet, only slightly swollen at the ankles today, were propped up on several pillows. There was a light blanket tossed over the swell of her abdomen, accentuating her protruding stomach. Even standing several feet away, Charlie could see the covers shift as the children within her moved.
As though sensing his presence, Heather sighed wearily and blinked into wakefulness.
"Charles," she smiled. "How long have you been there?"
"Not long," he assured her. Moving into the room, Charlie perched on the edge of the coffee table and leaned over to kiss his wife. "How are we doing today?"
"We," she sighed. "Are trying out for the Olympic soccer team."
Charlie laughed tenderly as he splayed one large hand over Heather's belly. "You were the one who wanted a large family, Love."
"For future reference, Charles," she scolded him lovingly. "I'd like to have the rest of our children one at a time. Okay?"
"I'll try," Charlie said. "But you know what an over-achiever I am."
They laughed quietly together for a moment. Charlie slid to his knees on the floor and cuddled around his wife as best he could with the mound of babies between them.
"Where's Angela?" He asked.
"Your mother put her down for a nap," Heather replied, running her hands through Charlie's hair. "Did you get everything taken care of at the office?" She asked.
"Yep," Charlie grinned. "I'm all yours for the next four weeks."
"Great," she drawled, rolling her eyes. "Now I'll have you and your father both hovering over me all day."
"He hasn't been that bad, has he?" Charlie asked softly.
"Charles," Heather said kindly. "You know that I adore your dad. But he's absolutely driving me up the walls."
Charlie snickered. "Dad can be a pest when he's worried. Right now he is only concerned about you and the babies."
"I know, I know," she huffed. "But I swear to God, if he asks me if I'm having any pain even one more time this afternoon, I swear I'll go postal on his ass."
Charlie lifted Heather's legs and sat down on the cushion beside her. Almost absently, he began to rub her calves as he spoke. "I'll be the first to admit that Dad can be annoying at times. But he is a wonderful person."
"He is darling, he is," Heather said affectionately. "But could you please just ask him to back off a little? You're home now, he can relax a bit."
"I'll see what I can do," Charlie agreed reluctantly.
"I hate to be a bitch, Charles," she said apologetically. "But I just don't have the patience right now."
"You're entitled," he said. There was silence for a moment as Charlie continued to massage Heather's legs.
Humming with pleasure, Heather closed her eyes and sighed. "I do love your father, Charles."
"He loves you too," Charlie admitted.
"He makes me feel guilty, sometimes," Heather said quietly.
"Guilty?" Charlie frowned. "Why?"
"Because my father and I were never as close as you and Jarod," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Because, sometimes I miss my dad and I'll go to yours for comfort."
"Oh sweetheart," Charlie crooned. He pulled his wife onto his lap and wrapped protective arms around her. "Don't feel guilty about that. You and Dad both have so much love to share. I think it's wonderful that you can share some of it with each other."
"Do you think Jarod would have gotten along with my father?" Heather asked.
Charlie sighed tenderly. "They would have been great friends," he assured her.
"Does it ever bother you?" Heather asked. "That Jarod wasn't around when you were young?"
"No," Charlie answered without hesitation. "I was too little. I can barely remember a time when he wasn't a part of our lives." Charlie gave his wife a faraway smile. "One of my earliest memories is of my father."
Heather snuggled against Charlie's shoulder, reveling in his strength. "Tell me," she whispered dreamily.
"I must have been about four or five years old," Charlie began as he rubbed gentle circles over Heather's belly. "It was dark and I was in bed. Dad came into the room and nudged me awake. He said there was something he wanted to show me. So he scooped me off the bed, blankets and all." Charlie grinned as he lost himself in the memory. "There I was all wrapped up in a cocoon of bed linen. Snug as a bug you could say. Dad took me outside. It was snowing and everything had that soft muffled quality to it."
"He carried me in his arms as though I weighed nothing. I remember thinking how strong he was. He took me to an old tree stump in the back yard where he sat down. He put me in his lap and wrapped his coat around me to keep me warm."
Charlie smiled adoringly at his wife. "'Look Charlie,' he said to me. He pointed at the sky and we both looked straight up. There were these big fluffy snowflakes falling from a pitch-black curtain of night. They were sparkling like weightless diamonds as they fluttered soundlessly around us.
'The stars, Charlie,' he told me. 'The stars are sprinkling on us.'"
"It sounds wonderful," Heather sniffed tearfully.
"It was like magic," Charlie admitted with a whisper. "Even now, the smell of suede makes me think of my Dad and that night I spent wrapped in his jacket while the stars scattered around us."
"I love you," Heather sighed.
Charlie smiled. "I love you more," he answered.
They cuddled together for a long time until Heather drifted back to sleep. At this point in her pregnancy, rest was essential but nearly impossible to attain. Her moods would swing drastically from fits of fevered activity to bouts of total exhaustion. The babies kicking inside her made it difficult to sleep more than a few hours at a time.
Easing carefully away from his dozing wife, Charlie covered her tenderly with the blanket and quietly left the room. He kicked off his shoes and tiptoed upstairs to check on his little girl. Angela still slept soundly in her crib with one thumb tucked in her mouth and her little butt sticking up in the air.
Charlie's heart swelled at the sight of her. The child was so precious, so perfect. He stroked the fine light hair on her head and smiled in wonder. A week from now, this little tot would have two new brothers. Angela seemed to understand that concept and was adorably excited by the prospect.
Satisfied that Angela was well. Charlie went down to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of iced tea. With his drink in one hand, Charlie stood at the back door and looked out at the fields behind the house.
That was when he located his parents.
Charlie's mom and dad were sitting on the porch swing snuggling in each other's arms much like he and Heather had been doing a short time ago. His mother was smiling up into his father's sparkling brown eyes in a way that made Charlie grin. Charlie loved to watch them together, to see them when they thought no one else was looking. They were so in tune to each other, so aware of what the other was thinking. They rarely argued.
Charlie longed for the day when he would understand his wife's thoughts the way his dad seemed to do with his mother. But that would take time. Charlie's parents had known each other for a very long time, decades before their son had come along.
"Don't skulk in the shadows, Charlie," his mother's voice scolded him. "You make me nervous hiding over there."
Charlie grinned and pushed the screen door open. "I'm not hiding," he denied.
"Just eavesdropping," his mother said wryly, cocking one eyebrow at him.
"Maybe a little," Charlie admitted as he flopped into one of the nearby wicker chairs.
"We didn't hear you come in," his dad's deep voice purred.
Charlie smiled tauntingly. "You were probably too busy necking," he teased.
"Yup," his dad replied bluntly. This response earned him an elbow in the ribs from Charlie's mother.
"Have you talked to Heather?" Charlie's mother asked, effectively changing the subject.
He nodded. "I've been home for nearly an hour. We talked for a while. She's asleep now."
"She has been sleeping too much," Charlie's dad said with a frown.
"Rest is the best thing for her, Dad." Charlie said. "She'll need it soon enough." He sighed before continuing reluctantly. "You need to ease off a bit, Dad. You're seriously trying her patience."
"Told you so," Charlie's mother growled, giving her husband another jab to the ribs.
"Parker!" the older man pouted. "That hurts."
"Stop whining you big baby," she replied crossly as she tenderly ran one hand through the graying hair at his temples.
"I'm just worried about my daughter-in-law," he groused.
"I'm worried too," Charlie admitted. "Just try not to upset her, all right?"
"Are you okay, Baby?" Charlie's mother asked.
He shrugged. "Wearing a little thin perhaps, but I'll be fine. I just wish it would happen already."
Grey eyes gazed knowingly at him and Charlie had the odd sensation that his mother was reading his mind. "She'll be fine, you know," his mother said gently.
"Don't get me wrong," Charlie sighed. "I love the idea of more children. I just hate what she has to go through to get them."
"She'll be fine." The conviction in his mother's voice helped ease Charlie's concern only a little.
Charlie nodded thoughtfully for a moment. Then, in an action so like his father's, Charlie heaved a deep breath and pushed his worry aside.
"I'm hungry," Charlie said abruptly. "What's for dinner?"
"I hadn't thought about it yet," his mother replied with a grin. "What would you like?"
Charlie stood, taking his now empty glass with him. "I'll have something delivered."
As they watched their son wander back into the house, Jarod put his arm around his wife and with a push of one foot, set the swing into motion.
"You know what, Miss Parker?" he purred into her ear.
"What's that, Pez-head?" she smiled playfully.
"You've got an amazing kid," Jarod murmured. "You must have done something pretty special to deserve him."
"Yes," Parker agreed. Kissing Jarod lovingly on the forehead she whispered, "I finally let his daddy love me."
"I always did, you know," Jarod said as he traced Parker's lips with one finger.
She nodded. "I know."
"Parker?" Jarod asked. "Do you suppose this is happily ever after?"
"Yes," she replied. "Yes, I suppose it is."
-
The End.
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Pretty sappy ending I know, but after all the cliffhangers, I felt you had earned one. Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it.
