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.
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.
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.”
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.