Title: "A Father's Day…" Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl Note: This is a new fic series that I am starting, with its roots in the ending of TG's second season in May 2003 and (just) the beginning of the third. Taking into consideration what happened in the show's season finale "All the Rage", some events are still included (James' demise, The Archer's job offer in Berkeley) but the story that will follow is original. What I intend to do is to develop and spin the main characters in a different way, taking TG into an `alternate universe' from what we saw in the arc of episodes preceding "All the Rage" and Season Three. This is very much a "look ahead" fic, a "what could have happened if…" And to the TG historians, I might fudge on a date or two, but it is for the sake of the story. I try to stay with in a year or so of the TG "facts" we were given to maintain some level of continuity. Although the story itself will pick up five years later (September 2008), this segment is from around the same time, the following year – a little teaser of what's in store, if you will. Enjoy. ** Thursday - September 12th, 2009 The time on the Cadillac's clock read 8:57 AM. He was running late. He meant to leave the house by 7:00, but Laurie made breakfast – insisting that he'd have a long day ahead and needed something to keep him going. Of course, he knew better than to argue with the woman of the house and gave in…. * It was she who had spoken to Nicholas the day before, not him. The surprise was clearly apparent in her voice as she responded to her step-son's request. He'd been sitting at the table, just a few feet away, listening very closely to her side of the conversation. "Well, I'll see what he's up to…" he heard her promise. As he turned his head, he could feel her eyes upon him. The thought made him chuckle. He was sure that Nick could hear him on the other end. Laurie knew he had no `real' plans; such was the life of retirement that they both enjoyed. The occasional golf outing, a drink with the boys, lunch with her at the Club, a black- tie function or two, good books, road trips on the weekends… that was it for him, and he liked it that way. What he didn't like was the surprise that was coming this weekend or better said, the surprise party that he wasn't supposed to know about. He was turning 75, that was no secret and it certainly didn't need to be celebrated – at least in his opinion. Laurie thought otherwise, just as she usually did. Nick's call had precarious timing, it was almost as if it was a set- up, a way to get the `old man' out of the house so that the final preparations for the party could be made. For that reason along, he thought he should find some excuse to stay in. he decided, and waited to hear what she had to ask. Another minute went by. He assumed they were working out the details. He definitely felt as if the proverbial `wool' was being pulled over his eyes. Then she turned to him, her hand over the receiver, "Nick wants to know if you can make it up to the lake tomorrow morning?" "What?" His aged eyes flew open. The place on the lake was Nick's. It was private. It was his sanctuary. Something was definitely up. Nick would never just invite him at random. As a lawyer, he was immediately suspicious. He couldn't help but let his mind wander… * Things between them weren't great, but they were better – definitely a lot better than they had been the year before, maybe even six months before. The separation, the distance, it seemed to do them well. It gave them both space, time to heal. Maybe it was just as necessary that it came to an end. The idea of Nick coming home to Pennsylvania was not his own. He'd just assumed die there on the side of that New York City expressway. He wanted nothing to do with the months of physical, mental and emotional rehab that lie ahead. Nick had meant to die in that accident. He was trying. His son made it known that he wished he would've died, he had nothing left to live for. At the time of the accident, he was at the top professionally and personally he had hit a new low. Nick some how made sure that dear old Dad never found out the details of his downfall. Something bad had come up at work, there was the matter of the affair, his adulterous wife… his world had crashed down around him. Of course, he was called to pick his son up. But this time, he was not alone. Thank God, he had Laurie with him. She was the voice of reason, she was the only way he could get through this with Nick again. The man he found in the St. Vincent's hospital bed was not his estranged son, but someone else. A ghastly figure, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. His hair was unusually short, his body gaunt and without definition. Several of his bones had been broken, and early on, there was no way of being certain about the amount of damage done to his brain. It was a scary, difficult time for everyone. Recovery was day by day, but slow. There was memory loss, but it was not sufficient enough to be detrimental. In spite of the physical and mental pain, somehow, his son had survived. He was being given a second chance, they all were. Once he was out of the induced coma and well enough to begin the physical rehabilitation, he and Laurie made the decision to bring Nick back to Pittsburgh, where he could get the therapy and the help he needed – but most importantly to get him out of the place that left him in so much pain. But that would have to wait. Although instinct told him otherwise, he himself stayed there, in New York, with his son, taking him to the physical therapist every other day. He worked with him too, as much as Nick would let him. It was, to say the least, a sobering experience for them both. One of the hardest days he could recall was when Nick went into his office for the first time since the accident, the firm he worked at with his in-laws. Against his son's objections, he came along. It was hard to watch his son being put on the spot, being held accountable – but, admittedly, it was necessary. Working was not possible nor was it recommended, not until Nick cleaned up and got his head on straight. he remembered thinking, though he hadn't seen her once since Nick's accident. Nick would be given an unpaid leave of absence, and his return would be at the partners' discretion. There was no way he'd ever tell Nick, but even then, he felt that a return to that firm would be highly unlikely. With his professional obligations taken care of, Nick had only one option for what was next. It was an entirely different type of rehab. It was a longer, solid, established program in Minnesota. This was inpatient. This was what he needed. It wasn't the struggle that he imagined it would be to get Nick to go into the clinic. Life had beaten him down so hard that this seemed to be the only way to get up. Without his work to sustain him, he really did have nothing. Only just before Nick left did he mention he had started the proceedings months ago to give up his parental rights to his unborn child. He was astounded, and could remember asking if that was what his son really wanted to do. Nick's response was one that stayed with him. It shook him to the core. "Look at me, Dad, look at the mess I've made of my life. Do I really have the right to make the same of anyone else's?" Apart from the physical therapy and the drug rehab, regular visits with a psychologist were also part of Nick's treatment. These visits brought about a new clarity in his son, a new honesty, and also a new sense of responsibility for his actions. Feeling a bit guilty himself, he reminded Nick that this baby would still need a father. And to that Nick responded that he "prayed to God that a better one could be found…" At the time, Nick really felt like he was doing what was best. But that was then. That was then… * "Oh, Burton… he needs your help…there's a lot to be done before the kids can go there…" Laurie's mouth formed an easy smile, "this is your chance, Papa Burt…" That's all she had to say, the kids. For as many years as he had gone without grandchildren, the possibility of having them – more of them – now… well, it couldn't happen quickly enough. He didn't care about the biology of it all. If they would accept him, he'd accept them, with open arms. He made that clear to Nicholas from the first meeting with the kids, after little Jack could barely get "Mr. Fallin…" out of his mouth without cracking a wide grin. Nick, of course, was baffled and in turn asked him, "so what should they call you?" It didn't even take a moment for him to think. This was something he had waited a helluva long time to hear. "Papa Burt," he told him. And so Papa Burt it was. Sweet Charlotte had shortened it to "Papa" and that was just fine by him. Maybe it was a bit much. Maybe it was too fast. Maybe he was getting his hopes up, but at his age – he couldn't help it. He knew the facts. Nothing was final. They weren't married, he wasn't even sure if Nick had asked yet, and the kids still carried their own father's name. he wondered from time to time, It was true, his Nicholas was almost forty. Initially, he had been a bit worried. He didn't know how his newly clean and sober son would fare with a `ready-made' family – just having the baby would be overwhelming enough. But that's not how Nick saw it, not once he met his brand new daughter and the `family' she was coming into. That's when Nick decided to rethink the situation he was in, the life he wanted, the family he had long hoped to have. That baby girl made his son think about a lot of things differently. So did the baby girl's mother. While he could say he saw it coming, he'd never tell Nick that. His son's first experiences with a child had been terrible, and the marriage that came with it wasn't much better. What Nick had with his first wife Vanessa was circumstance, and not much else. It was P.A. – post Archer, rebound and rush. Nick had an emptiness he was trying to fill and neither one of them was ready for what they had ahead in parenthood. The pressure was too much for them both. Getting over that meant getting on eventually with Grayson, something which he himself attributed to his son being "higher than a kite" and desperate for affection. Mercifully, no children had been born into that marital union – at least not their own. That's where his son's little indiscretion came in. He too knew that Grayson had been fooling around behind Nick's back for quite some time. Pride wouldn't allow him to watch his son know the pain he himself experienced and he tried to warn him. At the time, they really weren't talking. His words didn't matter. Nick was hurting and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. There was a breaking point, somewhere along the line. His son couldn't take any more, and he decided to indulge his own urges. Maybe it was to hurt her like she had hurt him, maybe it was just because he wanted out. He was sure he would never know the real answer; there were just some things that Nick didn't discuss. His son's judgment wasn't the best those days, he was drinking a lot… and using too. This had been his coping mechanism for quite a while, since he lost Vanessa and their baby. No one could deny that what happened was an affair. His son definitely didn't go into it with a clear head or an honest heart. His unhappiness at home had led him to this. It was just supposed to be this, nothing more – nothing less. A one time deal. Nick certainly didn't expect consequences and he definitely did not expect a child. But it happened, and it scared Nick to death. Perhaps it was the kick back to reality that Nick had so desperately needed, although he still had many dark days ahead. Unfortunately, his son's involvement throughout the pregnancy and his daughter's first weeks had been minimal, fear and his estranged wife kept him away. But now, everything was different. The divorce was final, rehab and therapy had helped, and so had a renewed sense of responsibility. In the mere fifteen weeks his granddaughter had been alive; it seemed as if his son's world had completely changed. This time, the changes were for the better. It was no longer `all about him,' about getting what he wanted where and whenever he wanted it. He had someone else to think about, somebody else that mattered so much it hurt. Nick wasn't just building a relationship with his daughter, but with her mother and siblings as well. His son rose to the challenge of coming into a `ready-made' family and seemed to flourish. With the baby's mom, he knew it wouldn't be easy; there was a lot of damage that Nick had to undo. What his son needed to do more than anything was regain her trust. And with the kids, that was another matter entirely. Nick took to them and them to him immediately. In his son's mind, they were part of the deal – they were his daughter's family, they were the family that he too wanted to have. The family that this old man could only hope would soon become part of his * "I'll be there…" he recalled telling Laurie with an unfamiliar enthusiasm. "Bright and early he says…" Laurie again smiled, "no morning nap for you…" His eyes narrowed, and he nodded toward the phone, "tell him we'll see who gets there first…" ** The rude honk of a horn jolted him out of his daze. Apparently, the surrounding cars had moved an inch and he needed to catch up. "Heh…guess it looks like he will…" Burton said quietly to himself, opening his eyes and clearly disgusted by the pool of the traffic that surrounded him. "Labor Day is over, what the hell are all these people out for?" Unfortunately, his vehicle's navigation system didn't have an answer for that. What it did tell him was that he was still over forty-five minutes away from his destination. It was an aggravating reminder that flashed on the screen. "Damn thing…" he whispered bitterly, "an unnecessary extravagance if you ask me…" It wasn't his choice to get the system, but Laurie's. She thought it would be handy, for their road trips - they seemed to be taking a lot of those lately. Mainly just the Midwest, but now with her retired as well, Burton was planning to get a little further. Perhaps New England, maybe even all the way out to the West Coast. They did a lot of talk, since he was no longer a man of plans and arrangements. The most planning he had done as of late was ordering this `silly' SUV as he had called it. Laurie herself had wanted a sedan, and that was fine, but she encouraged him to indulge, get something fancy, get something nice, something he'd enjoy. It had a hefty price-tag, but it was to be expected… since he did get all the `bells and whistles' that were to be had in the newest model of the Cadillac SRX. Damn car was his pride and joy, until he met his granddaughter of course. Just the thought of her made him smile. She really did look like an angel. Those pudgy, full cheeks, the soft strawberry blond hair with the slightest hint of a curl. She was every bit of her Daddy, though – as luck would have it – she took very much after her older siblings too, also fair haired and beautiful. The baby had her brother Jack's bright blue eyes and was already flashing her sister Charlotte's sweet smile. Needless to say, she had her `Papa Burt' wrapped tight around her little finger. Their first meeting was one that he, regretfully, could barely recall, given the state that he was in. He had been hospitalized, damn near on deaths' door, and her Momma brought the baby to see him as a surprise once he was doing a bit better. By then. the baby was almost seven weeks old. Nick hadn't been there himself at the time, he was stuck in NY, with Grayson. It was also then that he met little Jack and Charlotte, at his own insistence. When they came in the next day, Jack sat and watched the Pirates game with him, and Charlotte turned the pages as he read her a story – a real story, not one from the newspaper as he had done with his own Nicholas many years before. He could see that the kids were extremely well loved and cared for, and he was certain his own grandbaby would be too. What touched him the most was seeing how the older two were with the baby. Young as they were, the seemed to understand that she needed them and that she would continue to need them for the rest of her life. They were particularly protective and gentle, and little Jack even instructed him on how to hold her, just to make sure he knew. It was a moment that still tugged at his heart strings, each time he called it to mind… * His mother had asked that Jack be able to wait there, just for a moment, as she took Charlotte down the hall with her to make a quick phone call. Laurie told her of course it was okay. In his mother's absence, Jack saw it as his place to be the baby's guardian, watching carefully as Laurie passed the slowly-awakening infant over to her waiting grandpa. "Her head, Mr. Fallin…" Jack whispered as he pointed to his tiny sister, "you gots to be careful…" "I know…" He looked at Jack and smiled, "do you want to help?" At any other time, at any other point in his life, he would have balked at someone giving him instructions. But this was different. This time, he wanted to hear, he wanted to listen. The boy shrugged his small shoulders. "I help lots…" "I'm sure you do…" Burton glanced down at his grandbaby and surveyed the space beside him. Mindful of the wires and tubes, there was still plenty of room. He then called to his wife. "Laurie, help Jack on up here…" Laurie scooped the little boy into her arms without any hesitation. She softly kissed his forehead. "Show him how it's done, sweet boy…" Jack crawled up and right into the waiting crook of his arm. It was a feeling he would never forget. The little boy softly touched his hand to his sister's cheek, "her Daddy says she is special…" "Well, she certainly is…" Burton smiled again, understanding the literal and figurative meaning of Nicholas' word. Jack nodded, "I think so too…" "Oh yeah?" Burton was curious about the young boy's interpretation, if it was because it was something he heard or something of which he was truly aware. "And beau-ti-ful …" Jack said as he pressed his lips ever so lightly to his sister's forehead. The boy was already far smarter than he gave him credit for. Maybe it hadn't occurred to him that a child would not look at the differences, but instead at the similarities. It was wonderfully apparent that what Jack saw – at least in this very moment – was not a child that was somehow flawed, but one that was perfect, perfectly his own, perfectly his sister. If only they could all see things so clearly… * he teased himself, God, did he hope so although he felt it was highly unlikely- as it was that little Jack – or was it little Charlotte? – No matter, it was one of them who shared his birthday. He was sure that their Momma had some special plans for them, and no doubt Nick would somehow be a part. And, after all, they had just been out to visit him a few weeks before. All this time alone in the car gave him the chance to think. He was sure that he wasn't. That was one of the mixed blessings of old age, forgetfulness. One of his dear old friends from the Club forgot that it was supposed to be a surprise and told him. "Oh well," he said with a sigh, "I guess I will just have to wait and see…" Wait and see. Wait and see. That's what Nick told him they would have to do when he asked how things were going. It wasn't exactly the voice of optimism, but given all that his son had been through – it was a start. A start that he was proud to finally see his son make. Though he might not admit it, the phone call from Nick meant a lot to him. Asking him to come out, to spend some time with him. While it might late for father-son bonding in the traditional sense, he really did relish the rare opportunities he had to be with Nick. The time Nick spent at the house with him and Laurie after getting back from the clinic in Minnesota was difficult and awkward. Each day, it became increasingly obvious that there was a lot left unsaid between them, a lot of wounds that hadn't yet healed. Laurie's presence seemed to ease some of the tension, but still – they were father and son – and likely to butt heads. It was an arrangement that lasted only a few weeks. Then Nick got some ideas of his own. Ideas like this one. he thought to himself with a sigh, * The clock now read 10:13 AM. An hour late, he was sure that wouldn't go over well. The drive was only supposed to be about two hours, it took him nearly three. But still – he was there – that had to count for something. Turning off the navigation system, he made the familiar turn onto Lookout Drive. The condo had belonged to a friend of his, a summer place, and he was looking to sublease it while he was away for a year. It seemed like the perfect place for Nick. Nick's brilliant idea coming out of rehab was to finally tackle the disaster his Aunt Liz had left him. With Jeremy already gone and buried, her beloved nephew became the sole beneficiary of her estate. Estate this place was not, not the way she left it. As the illness took over her body, insanity seemed to take her mind. She gutted the once beautiful home after there had been some minor water damage, swearing that she would live long enough to see the repairs through. She didn't. Initially, Nick hadn't thought much of it. He wanted to get rid of it, sell it off and not be burdened with the upkeep. That changed, after what happened with Vanessa and their child. That's when he first came here, trying to heal. As life would have it, it didn't go well as Nick had planned. Some work was done, but not nearly enough to make it liveable again. Discouraged and too unsettled emotionally to be very productive, Nick left it and went back to New York. Now, it was a different story. Originally, Nick came back to the Lake to give him something to do, to give him a place to be. He would make the repairs, restore its beauty and then put it on the market. This plan gave him a sense of purpose, which is what he needed. The more work he did, however, and the more time he spent there - this became his passion. He knew his son had put a lot of himself into the place, it was something he could truly be proud of. Be proud enough to share, that is. When the kids were in a few weeks earlier, they stayed with their mother at the condo after a brief stop in Pittsburgh. The house wasn't quite ready and their visit was most unexpected, but welcome all the same – and Nick wasn't about to have them staying at a hotel. Moving into the condo was quite the change for Nick, not at all like the loft in upper Manhattan that he had shared with his former wife or being back in his old room in his father's home. Though he had his own home for years in Pittsburgh, this was different. This wasn't a place he had chosen, but one that was chosen for him. It was a temporary solution, but a very comfortable one until the house was finished, or until he got back on his feet – whichever came first. Of course, shabby was this condo was not. He and Laurie had stayed there several times before. Besides its four bedrooms, three baths and all the amenities and conveniences of a modern home, the condo also had a wonderful view, and waterfront access. And for the price, it could really not be beat. He was happy for his son. Glancing to his right, he saw the place. 1028 Lookout Drive. There was a late model, black Range Rover parked in the driveway. The Range Rover had been one of Nick's first purchases once he came up to the Lake, insisting that it would be ideal for the work that awaited him. The tailgate of the SUV was open, and there were assorted boxes waiting to be loaded. Without any hesitation, he pulled in. Nick was coming down the steps as he parked. Burton looked again, just to be sure. He'd seen that look a lot lately. The changes he had perceived in his son over the past few months were great, not just mental, but physical as well. As he was kept out of the office and away from the paperwork, Nick had time to worry about himself – to take care of himself. Along with his various treatments, he had also sought more regular exercise, cycling and swimming when he was at the lake and running when he was away. He couldn't believe his son even bought one of those funny looking strollers for runners, the kind with the big wheels and the rugged frame. It was quite the sight to behold, and now he was just waiting till the baby was big enough to go in it. Much to his own chagrin, his Nick was no longer the perfectly- groomed man sulking around dear old Dad's firm in a $1900 suit with a phone attached to his head. No sir, those days were over – at least until he went back to work. As of late, he had a much more `rustic' or unkempt appearance. His curls were left long, his ability to shave apparently forgotten and his suits… probably on a resale rack in the Village if Grayson had anything to do with it. A t-shirt or button down with cargos (pants or shorts, weather dependent) was what Nick was now accustomed to wearing, and even jeans. Jeans, he hadn't even thought his son owned a pair. Though he thought the hair and the clothes were a bit much from time to time, he'd decided to keep his mouth shut and let Nick enjoy it while he could. In general, his son was much more casual and relaxed – and that, in itself, was a miracle. Today was no exception… His son was as casually outfitted as he ever could be. The long- sleeved t- shirt from Nick's alma mater was well-worn and adorned with flecks of paint, as were his khaki cargo shorts. Apparently, Nick had gotten a much earlier start. When he got out of the Cadillac, he could see Nick's sandals. Them Birkenstocks, or "the hippie kind" as he liked to call them. Those too, were covered in paint. All he could do was roll his eyes and hope that the worst work of the day was over. Still smiling, Nick quickly sized up his father. There was no question, Laurie had not intervened and his father had gotten himself ready. He couldn't help but laugh as he looked over the old man's attire. "What?" Burton barked as he shut the door. "You here to work or hit the greens?" Nick asked, not-so- innocently. Slacks. A nice, simple polo. His `spiffy' new white tennis shoes as Laurie called them. He thought he was dressed in a perfectly respectable manner. "Smartass…" he chuffed in return. Nick glanced back up at his father's face, his blue eyes were a lot warmer than he remembered. "I think I've got a shirt or something you can wear…" he offered sincerely, "maybe some shorts too…" "Oh, great…" Burton released an exasperated sigh, "I drive all the way up to have my son dress me and put me to work…" "Payback is a…well, you know how the saying goes…" Nick smiled again, and walked over toward the pile of boxes. He motioned toward his father, "these have to get to the house, we might as well get started…" Burton shook his head in dismay, "you're not even going to offer me a cuppa coffee first?" "You're late…" Nick fired back, jokingly, "had you been here at 9:00, like you said you would… I might have offered you coffee, and even the chance to sit down… but no… we've lost an hour's time already and…" "And what exactly do you have planned for us?" Burton looked again at the boxes, intimidated. He was not a man of manual labor and there was to be plenty of need for it right here. Tools were something a man like him owned, but never used. Reaching into his back pocket, Nick pulled out a folded piece of paper. On it, there was a drawing, with measurements, notes and assorted details. He held it out for his father to see. "Do you remember that swingset I begged you for when I was little?" "I…" Burton took out his glasses and put them on, taking a closer look, "I'll be damned…." "Well, we're finally going to build it…" Nick assessed the drawing once again himself, and put it away…. ** Title: "A Father's Day…" Part 2 Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl The one thing that didn't change with Nicholas was the ever-so- convenient ringing of his phone whenever things started to get awkward between them. He hadn't even been there five minutes and already, neither one of them could offer another word. It was like clockwork. A distinct ring pierced the silence that filled the space between them. Seemingly relieved, Nick pulled the slim phone effortlessly from his pocket and checked the caller ID. A New York number. He knew exactly who it was and this was the call he had been waiting for. He raised his head, his stormy blue eyes locking with his father's. "Sorry," he said hurriedly, "I really need to take this." "Go ahead…" Burton shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. Really, what else could he do? It wasn't like he could tell him no. After all, his son was nearly forty years old. he said quietly to himself, No sooner did he say it, he saw his son walking away from him. Privacy, Nick was still big on that. For as much of that so-called bonding as they had over the past few months of Nick's recovery, there were certain aspects of his son's life that he still couldn't touch. Certain things he didn't know, and more than likely, didn't want to. he considered, . Enough about that. He didn't even want to start to think. His gaze fell downward. The time on his watch was 10:21. Wait. Wait. Wait. He had no idea how long this was going to be. he rationalized, "Dad?" Nick called as he walked in the open front door. Burton looked up, pleased that he hadn't been forgotten. "Still on that phone?" Dumb question. He knew he was. Even the old man could see the damn thing was attached to his head. "You can come inside the house, if you want…" Nick flashed him a small, uneven-Fallin smile, as if that might make the situation better, "it's…" Yep. He was right. Burton finished his son's sentence, "it's gonna be a while…" With his call still on hold, Nick nodded in return, "coffee's on the counter…" "'Bout time you offered me some…" he fired back, "it is my birthday this weekend, you know…" Nick couldn't help but laugh. His father, the eloquent lawyer and business expert, was now resorting to a line like that. He could be a poster child for what retirement does to the aging mind. "Guess you should've been on time then, Dad…" he chided with another laugh, "didn't you used to…" "You know what your problem is, Nicholas?" Burton slowly started to walk toward the house, still collecting his thoughts. Oh no. They weren't going to start that. Not now. Not again. Nick already had too much to worry about. "Tell me later…" he conceded. "I will." Burton stopped again to take a deep breath. Each day was getting better, but he still wasn't quite the same. He swore the last trip to the hospital had done more harm than good. * Forty minutes. Forty minutes on that damn phone. he asked himself. For a reserved man such as Nicholas, it seemed unfathomable. Left to his own devices, Burton's mind started to wander. And so did his eyes. Although the condo was only meant to be a temporary residence, Burton couldn't help but notice the effort his son had put in to making it his own. Into making it a home. His home. Since the last time Burton had been there, the biggest change was the pictures. There were so few at first that he could count them on one hand. Now, they were everywhere. Just everywhere. It was refreshing, really. It was a sign of life. New life. Burton thought to himself as his eyes moved over the large array of framed images on the mantle, One particular picture caught his attention; his granddaughter had a way of doing that. He had seen it before. He could still remember the day perfectly, when Nick first brought it over… * "You got a picture or somethin'?" he asked as Nick walked into the kitchen. Part of him was surprised his son returned so soon, the other part was just as shocked that he stayed as long as he did. This trip was the third Nick had made out there, the second since she – little Annie – was born. Holding the envelope in his nervous hands, Nick nodded proudly. "Better." "Unless you brought `er back home with you…" Burton smiled at his son, pleased to see him so happy for a change. "I take it this was a good trip?" "Really good," Nick answered quietly. He gently lifted the flap of the envelope and peered down at one of his treasures. A small smile started to form as he looked, "it was really good…" he mumbled to himself. He was anxious to see her. "You gonna tell me about it, or do I have to call her up myself and ask how it went?" A little embarrassed and every bit put on the spot, Nick's cheeks started to redden. He shook his tousled blonde head, "don't do that…" This family business was still very new to Nick. He was a private person, he wasn't sure how to share, or if he'd even be able to. Actually, this family business was new to all of them. It was a miracle they'd gotten this far without incident. "What's that on your shirt, Son?" he asked as Nick approached him. Nick glanced to where his father was pointing. Another smile appeared. "I guess I must have missed a spot…" "Airplane food?" Burton chuckled at the thought of his son normally prim and proper son walking around the airport with such a notable mark. The Nick of old this man before him was not. Thank God. Still smiling, Nick shook his head, "more like Annie food…she eats, and eats and then…" It didn't take the old man long to connect the thoughts. If the spot was on him, that meant she was with him. She was in his arms. Now he understood his son's happiness, and he couldn't be happier for him. "You held her?" he couldn't help but ask. He knew his son had been putting it off. Afraid of her newness. Afraid of her smallness. Just afraid. The pride was easily apparent in his son's clear blue eyes. "I don't think I put her down, except when…" "Baby girl has got to eat…" Burton's own eyes were a bit misty as he tried to envision the scene, "or did you help with that too?" he wanted to say. But instead, Nick just shook his head, "no… no… not yet…her mom…" Patience was not a virtue that Burton Fallin could boast. He could wait no longer, especially not with Nick holding that damn envelope in front of him. "So are you going to show me?" Burton quickly wiped his eyes, hoping that Nick had not yet caught on to his tears, "please?" Burton took a deep breath, reminding himself of what Laurie had told him earlier. She, as Nick just did, said `one thing at a time…' For this old man, time was not moving quickly enough. A moment of awkward silence had passed before Nick finally pulled a picture from the envelope. He looked at it again before he was ready to hand it over. "She's… she's…" his voice started to crack. It was no surprise to Burton that his son was at a loss for words. In spite of the description he had received over the phone, he had no idea what to expect. All the reading he did on her condition beforehand, it was all just a bunch of words – it didn't put a face on her. He pulled out his glasses from his pocket and put them on in anticipation. "She's just really beautiful…" Nick finally finished, "very, very beautiful…" "There was never any doubt that she'd be anything less, Son…" Burton said as he readily accepted the photo into his hands. After waiting for so long. There it was. A coveted photo. A most coveted grandchild – a granddaughter at that. About damn time. His eyes moved over the image slowly, taking in every last detail. His perfect grandbaby, alseep in his son's arms. Her head was turned just enough so that he could see her sweet lips and her tiny nose. "Eyes?" He couldn't remember if he had been told their color already or not. "Blue, very blue…" Nick swallowed, hard. This was bittersweet. "My blue…" he quickly clarified, as if there had been any doubt. Those he would have to wait to see. For now, he had all he thought he could handle right in his hands. "Barefoot too…" Burton smiled, recalling that as a baby, Nick had wanted nothing on his feet either. Nick pointed gently at the image of the sleeping baby –his baby – , "you and Laurie sent her that…" Her little outfit. When he and Laurie found out the baby was a girl, he gave her his blessing for a little shopping spree. They didn't know what she would need, they were just excited to finally have a grandchild to shop for. Anything that was pink that they could get their hands on was bought and sent out express for her to have. Although her momma invited them to come and meet their new grandbaby, he told Laurie that he just didn't feel right going out there behind Nicholas' back. It didn't seem fair. Not fair at all that he, Papa Burt, would have to make that type of sacrifice. Hadn't he waited long enough? Well before she was born, he made it perfectly clear to Annie's momma that he wanted to know his grandbaby, no matter what decision his son made. It was important to him. Yes, he had already waited a long time to have a grandchild. But now that she was there, since she had arrived – now that she was real and no longer just an idea, now he wasn't so sure of the role he would be able to play in this child's life. As easy as it would have been for them to hop on a plane and go, he couldn't do that to Nicholas. He wouldn't. Burton didn't want to see her before his son did. He didn't want to hold her before his son could. He knew he was going to have to wait until Nick was ready. And that's just what he did. He would have his time soon enough. But till then, he knew pictures like these would help get him through. "Knew it looked familiar…" Burton looked again at her face, trying to memorize her tiny features. He could already see a bit of her daddy in her, the fair hair and the nose. The cheeks, well, he would have to wait and see her smile in order to make a decision about those. "I didn't know her mom had even taken the picture…" Nick said quietly, "not until…" * Thinking back on that afternoon now, it didn't surprise Burton at all that Annie's mom had taken the picture. She wanted him there with them just as much he wanted to be there. Burton looked at the picture again, now beautifully framed and matted. Nick was understandably proud. That little baby was his, and she in his eyes was perfect and that was all that mattered – at least to him anyway. The picture beside it was of Annie when she was born, not even hours old yet and laying with her bare behind up in the air. She was in her momma's arms. Her newness prevents giving a good image of her features, but she was still very beautiful – not that he was biased or anything like that. Since Nick wasn't there for his daughter's birth, this was one of the best mementos that they could hope for to help them share in that special day. The next picture, well, he wasn't sure how his son had come to acquire that one. he decided to call it. It was a black and white, apparently professionally done. He had to take a quick second glance. The belly was the main object, the growing belly of Annie's momma that is. And then there was little Jack, placing a great big ol' kiss on it. As she was being held in her momma's arms, little Charlotte's hands were on the belly too, and she's glancing downward, as if she might be saying "but I'm supposed to be the baby!" Judging from the look on the little girl's face, Jack was the one clearly more enthralled with the idea of adding a new member to their family. Mom was smiling big, as she normally did when the kids were around. Motherhood was an endeavor this woman embraced with everything she had in her. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but –in his mind- he could envision Nick in that picture too. In spite of all he had been through, if he had been there, Burton was sure he'd be the happiest one of them all. A more recent picture sat beside it. This was taken just a few weeks ago, the last time the kids had come to town. Taking the picture in his hands, Burton looked at himself and shook his head, "baby girl has more hair than I do…" He was holding little Annie in his arms, and Laurie was looking toward her, and there he was looking down at both of them – his girls. It was quite the moment. Another picture from that weekend was out as well. This one was from the Lake. The kids had gone up there with their momma at his own insistence – not that he was eager to get rid of them – but sure that Nick would love the surprise. Sweet Charlotte was sitting up atop Nick's shoulders as they walked down the beach, with little Jack scampering alongside of them. Their faces are turned just enough to see who it is and offer up a small smile to momma as she clicks the camera. Burton noted as he glanced at a picture of Nick with Annie and her momma, This concerned him a bit, knowing what little he did about what it takes to make a relationship work, especially a new one. There was no question about his son's commitment to the idea of a family, to the kids, but to her? Well, that remained to be seen. Curious, he looked again at the picture. This too must be recent, as he hadn't seen it before and his beloved Annie did look just a bit bigger. Since both Nick and her momma were in it, Burton had no idea who snapped the shot of this intimate morning interlude. It was taken from behind, and Annie's little face was peaking out from over Nick's shoulder – her blue eyes widening at the camera's bright flash. Just a small bit of Nick's face is visible, but it is perfectly apparent that he is smiling. Her momma is there beside them, still in her robe and leaning in to place a kiss on her daughter's cheek. he said quietly, And at this rate, he was likely to meander over toward the couch and settle in for a nap if Nick did not hurry up. "You off that damn phone yet?" Burton called out from the living room. He didn't even know where his son had gone off to. No response. Instinctively, Burton checked his watch. It was now a couple of minutes past eleven. His nerves were starting to get the better of him. "Nicholas!" he barked, "Nicholas!" Walking into the main hallway, Burton could hear the faint sound of his son's voice and followed it. Nick was in the so-called `office', not that much work was being done in there these days. The door was left partially ajar. Nosiness this was not. It was care, concern. He came a few steps closer. Initially, he had thought it might be about a job. Maybe he had been retired too long. Was it Annie? Burton prayed silently. Perhaps. Perhaps it was about that damn party that Laurie kept insisting they weren't having. he thought to himself, still amused by the thought of his son having anything to do with such frivolous festivities. But then he took another step closer, and now stood just outside the door. He could hear Nick's words, and the tone in which they were being said. From where he stood, he could see that Nick was leaning against the large oak desk. He looked tense, even from afar. His head was tipped forward; he bit his lip nervously as he waited for his turn to speak. "Did I not make myself clear?" he demanded of whomever he was speaking to. Burton could only guess as to what provoked that. Pause. "I know… I know… but this is my decision, my choice. I don't give a…" Nick stopped himself there, and took a deep breath, "I don't want him involved… not at all." he wondered as he continued to listen. Agitated, Nick stepped away from the desk. "As far as I am concerned, this prick doesn't even have a right to know, he made his choice when…" Burton's ears perked up. He'd have to scold him later –if Nick didn't catch him first. "Right. Right… I understand that, but what you have to understand is that this is what she wants. She wants me there – not him…" Nick took another deep breath and wiped his brow, "and I am not going to let her down…" Burton was at a loss, he thought all that with the baby had already been settled once Nick made up his mind. "You don't have to tell me about `in the eyes of the court'… believe me… I've been on both sides…and… I… I don't care…as far as I am concerned there is no probable cause for suspicion and he has no reason to question my being…" He paused again, and turned around. Nick picked up a frame from his desk and looked, "he has no reason to question me being a father…" The old man was sure he felt his heart stop. He wondered what picture his son had been looking at. No doubt it was one of Annie. Apparently, that's what it looked like Nick was feeling too, as if his heart had stopped. His hand was now on his head, his tone was much more terse and direct. "I know that would make things look better. Marriage is not something I am going to rush into with her… Grayson and I…" Ah shit. That's not good. Not good at all. Even the mere mention of that woman's name brought a chill down Burton's spine. No. No. It couldn't be that. He refused to think that Nick would be foolish enough to let her back into his life after all that had happened. Especially after Annie happened. Though he would certainly never condone or encourage Nick's infidelity, Burton considered Annie's conception as a real blessing in disguise. It may have ruined his son's so-called marriage, but it also saved his life. "You're kidding me right?" Nick seemed to be in utter disbelief of whatever it was that he was hearing over the phone. The look on his face was not a reassuring one. "I've waited too damn long to just give up…and I'd really prefer if she didn't have to know but…" Burton asked himself needlessly. He knew what his son had been waiting for. To have a family, yes, but more importantly, at least for right now, to have a child. Everything and anyone else was secondary. Anyone else, including her. And that's what he was afraid of. His thoughts went back to that picture, and he again found himself questioning just what it was that Nick was getting into with them, "Right, right… I will. I'll… well I guess I will talk to her sometime this week then…" Nick grimaced at the mention, "thanks for the call." Not good. Not good at all. Burton took a step back, trying to connect everything he had just heard. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong… * Title: "A Father's Day…" Part 3 Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl To drive from the condo to Liz's lakeside home usually took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes on a good day, a day with far less traffic than the amount they currently found themselves in. The roadway was a disaster. Even some of the local streets were overtaken by cars. Burton recalled, Leave it to Liz. Gone all these years and yet he could still hear her voice. He could still see the woman she once was. Enough. Burton chided himself. They had a task. They, the Fallin men, were on a mission. There was a lot of work and only a little time. They had to make the most out of what they had. Nick had already told him once that he'd call someone else, if he wasn't up to the task. Pride still got the better of him, though he made no effort to mask his strain as they were loading up the boxes that littered his son's driveway. Since everything fit into Nick's Range Rover, they decided to leave Burton's vehicle behind. The idea worried him a bit. This old man was at his son's mercy. He'd leave only when Nicholas was damn good and ready. Burton mumbled under his breath, In spite of his obvious concern over the phone call, Nick made sure to address his previous issue before they left – the issue of appropriate attire. Apparently, he didn't do a good job of dressing himself that morning. he wanted to say. But he didn't. A Stanford Law t-shirt, freshly pressed. Basketball shorts, probably the only shorts his son owned with an elasticized waistband. This is what he had been given, and there was no denying the fact that he was more comfortable. He was retired now, and well deserving of such a small luxury. Burton smiled as he glanced down at his feet, His happiness was brief. The silence between them was unnerving as ever. That call got him thinking, really thinking. Burton admitted quietly to himself, So long. So long. Sure he could blame Vanessa for his son's misery after their child died. Or perhaps he should put the burden of guilt on Grayson for denying his son of his one wish – a child. Truth be told, he himself probably shared in the responsibility too. he conceded, Mistakes. There were a lot of `em. They all made `em. For better and for worse. Mistakes. Mistakes and problems. Lots of problems too. Nicholas would never tell him about his problems. Never. That just wasn't his style. He kept them to himself, he internalized them, he tried to handle everything on his own, he didn't want to call dear ol' Dad and ask for help. Somebody else always had to. He always had to find out about his son from somebody else. And it broke his heart, especially at moments like this. He wished that there was something he could do, something he could say. Burton knew better, he knew to keep his mouth shut. He had to play it safe, watch from the sidelines. That was not his son there beside him, but a great big ol' ball of tension. He could observe it in the way Nick gripped the steering wheel. He could hear it in his voice. He could see it in the vacant look in his eyes. Forty-years. Almost forty damn years. That's how long it took him to notice this boy and to realize that he was a big part of the mess of emotions that was his son. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He could feel his aged heart pounding in his chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. Burton dared himself to wonder, In dire need of a distraction, Burton took a quick glimpse over his shoulder. There was baby stuff in the backseat. Baby stuff everywhere. A playpen. A swing. One of those funny lookin' exer- what ever the hell they are's. Nick had been busy. Real busy. The day the kids left to go back home, Nick went shopping. Called up him and Laurie to tell them all the things he found for the kids. A bike for Jack, so he could teach him how to ride. An art easel for Charlotte, it was too big for her now but he wanted to have it since she was already interested. A swimsuit for Annie, he wanted to get her started in the pool early. What he got for Annie's momma, well, that Nick didn't say. Burton assumed it was best he didn't know, he probably didn't want to. There were also a few things bought for the lake house, so they could be ready for whenever the kids came back. Baby gates. Safety locks. A canopy bed for Charlotte. Bunk beds for Jack. A fancy crib- to-bed for Annie. Oh, and toys, lots of toys. Math was never his strongest subject. He didn't want to think about the amount of money Nick had spent. Not that it mattered. It didn't matter at all – he finally had what he wanted. Burton didn't have it in him to ask. A lot was unresolved. That's what Nick had told him some days before, some days before this. Some days before the phone call. Burton could only assume that circumstances had changed, and not for the better. But how would he know? Its not like Nick would tell him. Its not like they were close enough that he could ask. That's what troubled him. Really troubled him, perhaps now more than ever. Even with all they had been through in these past few months, they still weren't close. There was still a distance. There was still a silence. An awkward, painful, tangible silence. There was not even music coming from the radio, not that they'd ever be able to agree on a station. Nick didn't need the distraction. His eyes may have been on the road, but his son's head was elsewhere. It was clear that Nick was thinking, mentally organizing the plan for whatever action he needed to take. Burton swallowed hard. "Nick?" he said, just loudly enough. "What?" Nick turned to look at him, but only for a second. The phone call was off limits. If he asked about it, Nick might be suspicious. Too much risk. he decided. Anywhere else. He offered a small smile, "why the rush?" His father's oblivious nature was nothing new, but Nick found it hard to believe that the man sincerely didn't know. Oh well. He'd humor him. "I want to bring them here Sunday afternoon…" Nick stopped there, concerned he may have said it all right there. No way he could retract it now. he tried to convince himself, Burton chuckled. He couldn't help it. Small victories mean everything at this age. He wasn't about to let on though, he could gloat later. "One of the kid's birthday?" he asked. "Yes." It was Charlotte's. Even he, Nick Fallin, was excited. This excitement was not lost on his father. Burton couldn't help but indulge his curiosity; he needed to get his mind off that call. He tried to change his tone a bit. No more gloom and doom. "Anything special planned?" "I'll show you when we get there…" Nick returned with a weak smile, his hands still clutching the steering wheel. Burton's look was a sympathetic one, hoping for the best but anticipating the worst. Especially after that damn call. He knew all too well that things had an unfortunate way of blowing up in his son's face. He braced himself. "You're really getting into this aren't you?" A nod. That was Nick's reply. The nod said it all. * A lot of space. A lot of rooms. A lot of money. That's what he thought when Liz bought the place, and when Nick inherited it, Burton wondered what the hell his son was going to do with it all. Now he knew. Work trucks lined the street. It was a sight to see. Roofers on the top. Pavers in the drive. A fence being repaired on the side. Noisy as ever, that's what it was. Maybe he should've brought earplugs. An unfamiliar face waved to Nick from the porch, prompting him to get out of the vehicle. He turned back to his father. "Easy getting out…" he cautioned before he headed up toward the house. "I'm not that damn old…" Burton replied gruffly as he unfastened his seatbelt. He looked toward his son a few feet away, already giving orders. No surprise there. He took his time, overstimulated by all that was going on around him. For years this place went untouched, damn near forgotten. And now? Well, Nick was certainly making up for lost time. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched, not knowing what else to do. No doubt Nick would tell him. He was too far away to hear what was being said between Nick and the worker. He hoped the news was better than that of the phone call. That still bothered him. Still. Burton waited, regrettably allowing his mind to wander. None of those thoughts were good. Not a one. After a few more minutes, Nick motioned his father forward. He smiled. "I needed a little help." "I'll say." It went without saying, he was impressed by what he saw. This was a small army his son had put together. "Work inside is done, they're just finishing up with a few things out here…" Nick carefully pointed to the fence, obviously new, "I had them put one up outside the playhouse too…" Playhouse. Now there's a word he thought he'd never hear come out of his son's mouth. "One of those too?" Burton was sure the surprise was apparent in his voice. "For the girls. Fixed up the pool." Nick flashed another proud smile. he told himself, Burton tried not to let his worries get the better of him, to ruin this brief exchange with his son. "Really?" "Annie's going to learn to swim…" His son glanced away, and laughed, "who would've thought, right?" "Right." Who would've thought. Burton swallowed hard. He didn't trust himself to say much more than that. It was rare that Nick shared. Very rare. And that was that. It wasn't but a second later that Nick turned to walk back toward the house. Enough talking for now. There was work to be done. There were kids to get ready for. His kids. Yes, his kids. All of `em. * What a way to spend an afternoon. It seemed as if he – Burton Fallin, the man who thought he had everything he ever wanted, or at least everything that money could buy – had waited all these years for a day like this. The weather was perfect. The view of the lake from the well- manicured backyard was amazing. The company, well… the jury was still out on that one. Nick was his usual quiet, reserved self. Not that he thought that was going to change overnight. Despite the fancy new tool belt he bought for the occasion, Burton still felt like an aged animal being led to slaughter as he walked with Nick toward the waiting pile of wood on the grass. "I hope you brought a lunch," Nick told him with a smirk, "we're going to be here a while." Ha. Ha. His son then handed him a hammer and a set of directions and left him to fend for himself while he finished things up inside the house. Even so, this was still the type of day he had been waiting for. A real father's day. * Handy was one thing that Burton Fallin was not. He knew damn well that well-qualified people could be paid to do this type of labor. He was certain that Nick could've hired someone at hardware store to put this thing together. They were his motivation. They were the only reason this man would break a sweat. "`Bout time you got something done…" Nick called out from the back porch as he emerged. It seemed like forever since he went inside. Burton asked himself, hoping that there wasn't another call. "Never did figure out what your Aunt needed this big old place for…" he grumbled, "one person… five bedrooms?" Subtlety. Or lack there of. Nick chuffed, "some people like the space." Burton looked up, "smartass. I bet you intend to fill it?" Touché. God knows he wanted to, one day, but that was another matter. A bridge that they would cross, if, and when, they got there. If. Nick thought out his response carefully. "I guess, you know… its just a place for vacations, a place to bring the kids…" "However many of those there might be…" he smiled at his son, "right?" Sex. Nick didn't even want to go there, not with him. His father didn't need to know that their attempts since Annie's arrival had been thwarted, both by her kids and his own needy-Nick doings. No. He wouldn't explain. She had been the one to mention the desire for more children, not him. He didn't know what to make of the three, much less four or five. he repeated to himself, "Right," Nick conceded, but not without adding "even if its just the three of them." Burton's eyes widened as Nick's words set in. That didn't sound like his boy at all. Not the one who wanted a family, not the one who wanted a child so bad he… Nerves, that's what Burton chalked it up to. It was Nick's nerves talking. From bachelorhood to daddy of three was a lot for him to handle. It was a lot for anyone to handle, especially a recovering… well, a recovering… . That was safest. "Tell her about the interviews yet?" Burton knew this was pushing the privacy limit. "Not yet," Nick tipped his tousled head downward, "we've both got a lot going on, you know, she's back at work, with the kids, I've been getting this place, and the…" "What the hell you waiting for?" Burton abruptly cut in, "why in God's name would you not say something?" Discomfort overtook his body and nagged at his soul. Nick searched for a reasonable explanation, but there wasn't one. "I guess… well…" Nick raised his eyes to meet with his father's, checking to see if he was buying his bull, "I just want to make sure this is what we want…" We. We. Who knows how long its been since Nick dared use that word in front of him. "What about what you want?" Burton challenged, "where does that come into all this?" "I've looked at a place out there," Nick admitted, "a starter…" Burton didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. That phone call popped into his mind again. He had to get to the bottom of this. "A starter for you or for a family?" He waited with baited breath. "Dad," Nick exhaled loudly, clearly exasperated by the turn of their conversation. "Nicholas," Two could play at this game. Defensive. "Look, I don't want to rush this, make another mistake…" he barked sharply, "I don't want…" Ouch. So much for that. "Son?" Burton waited for some semblance of the right moment. "What?" Nick's eyes were downcast once again. The moment wasn't going to come, that was certain. This was his chance. Nick had to know he had his sympathy. He really did have this boy's best interests at heart. "Son?" he repeated. Another silence, but yet, Burton knew Nick was still listening. "Just… just…" Burton struggled to make sense of his thoughts. There was no sense to this. "Don't let the opportunity slip away…" If it hadn't already. If that wasn't what the phone call was about. Every action his son took was getting him more and more involved. More and more out of himself and into the man he knew his Nick could become. This was all bittersweet. Very bittersweet. * Their awkward silence lasted through lunch, or at least until the phone's ring mercifully put it to an end. After checking the number, Nick excused himself to take the call. He had gone out of the kitchen, but not out of range. For a man of his age, his hearing was surprisingly good. His listening skills as acute, and convenient as ever. Burton knew better than to eavesdrop, but his instincts told him otherwise. Somehow, for some reason, he thought this might be the same caller as earlier. Not that Nick had, or would ever, say. Placing his napkin on the counter, Burton got up from his stool and walked quietly toward the hall. Again, he followed the voice. Guilty. Yes. So what if he was. It was at times like this when Nick left him no other recourse than to do something like this. His heart pounded. Thoughts filled his mind. Bad thoughts. Thoughts of hurt and pain. He couldn't help it. Another step closer, that's as far as he could go without being seen. He hoped. He took a deep breath. He readied himself. That's what he heard now. Two voices. One belonging to his son, one belonging to another man. Something told him this was not Nick's typical conference call. Not about business, at least not of the professional variety. The door was open. The phone was on speaker. Maybe Nick wanted this to be heard, maybe he wanted someone to know – at least that's what Burton wanted to believe. "What would be worse?" the unrecognizable voice asked. "Excuse me?" Nick rubbed his forehead, visibly distressed. "If you told her or if she found out from someone else," the voice explained. Nick obviously didn't want to consider either option. "I…" "This… what you did… was illegal…" there was a pause. "I mean…" "I…I know that…" Nick was hesitant, "but I…" Burton thought to himself, "They could lose their license," the other man's voice continued, "and you…" "Could get disbarred right? Man of the law breaks it?" Nick snapped, "you think I haven't thought about any of this?" Now Nick was getting cocky. Burton knew this wasn't a good sign. Not good at all. "I'm not sure you have thought about this, Nick, you could end up losing these kids…" the other man waited, " or you could…" Words were not coming easily. The apparent stress was taking its toll. "If I…" Nick took a deep breath, "well… I would've lost my chance to be a father…" "There were other ways" the other man replied knowingly. Burton wondered. Nick shook his head, as if the caller were able to see him over the line. "No, not for me…" "If you're so confident, why don't you just tell her the truth?" the man challenged. "No…" Nick said flatly, "no… its just best if she doesn't know, best that neither one of them knows…" This other man didn't seem to agree, and that made Burton all the more concerned. "She has a right to know…" the other man added. "No, what she had was a right to choose and she… she chose me…" Nick rubbed his head again, as if it might help ease his mind, "she chose me…" A choice. A choice. Burton didn't know what to make of the mess of words he found himself in. The other man's voice was quick to respond. "Right. But it's a choice based upon a lie, Nick, a lie. A lie that you may not have told had you not been so damn desperate…" At that, Nick looked mortified. Positively mortified… * Title: "A Father's Day…" Part 4 Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl Pacing didn't help. Short steps were all he could take to stay in range. Back and forth, back and forth. The monotony was getting to him. Irritated, he looked down at his watch. It was a fancy one, a real elegant timepiece that he never would've bought for himself. Silver and gold, the type they show on commercials. Laurie gave it to him on their first anniversary. Had it inscribed too. "All the time in the world…" Ha. God did he wish that was true. She said she asked the salesmen to help her find something befitting a handsome executive. Of course, that was when he still had the firm. When he still had his health. When he still… Well, that was then. Now was now. Now minutes were slipping away as he stood there and waited. He would soon be seventy-five years old; he didn't have the luxury of time. Thirty-five. Thirty-five minutes. That's how long Nick had been on the phone already. Thirty-five. Or was it forty? Maybe it was forty. This old man didn't know if his watch was slow or his heart was fast. He didn't know a goddamn thing. Burton repeated quietly to himself, all too well aware of the problems his meddling caused in the past. That wasn't so easy for him to do now. Not now. Not now that he was older, not now that he wanted Nick in his life as much as Nick needed him in his. Not now that they were finally becoming a family, and maybe, just maybe the past was behind them. His knees felt as if they might give out. He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall opposite the office door, praying that Nick didn't see him. "Nick, I'm just being the devil's advocate here… We have to be realistic in our approach, these issues could come up and we should be prepared…" the man on the phone replied. Rubbing his brow, Nick nodded – as if someone might see his gesture – "yeah, I know that but…" "But what…?" he waited. "You're supposed to be mine…" Nick paused a moment, and then clarified his statement, "you're supposed to be my advocate…" Advocate. Avocat, the French word for lawyer. Laurie taught him that, she learned it in her class at the library, getting ready for their big trip. Their big trip, the one all old people save up for and plan to take sometime before they die. Perhaps that trip would have to wait. Depends on Nick. Depends on the mess it seems he has gotten himself into. the old man asked himself as he listened intently. "If… if…" the man seemed to be searching for his words, searching for the words to say something that Nick probably did not want to hear. "If what?" Nick returned impatiently. Burton could hear the anger in his son's voice. The change in tone was unmistakable. "You can't build a life on a lie, Nick, you just can't… if you want this to work – you have to be honest, with her, with me… but most importantly, with yourself…" the man finally answered. "Honest…" his son chuffed, "I…" "It's the only way…" Then there was a brief pause. "Just think about it, okay? Before you do anything else?" The words seemed to sink in. Burton watched as Nick closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "I will…" Nick said slowly, "I will do that…" "We'll be in touch." The call ended. And that was that. Allowing his pride to get the better of him, Burton moved away from the door quickly. Now was not the time for him to be caught. That would only make things worse. If they could get any worse. Only once he was a good few feet ahead did he dare to look back at his son. Nick was leaning against the large desk, his head in his hands. Something wasn't right, Burton was sure of that. The pieces of the conversations that he had heard were difficult to piece together. It didn't make sense. Nothing did. He tried to review his mental notes. Illegal – this wasn't anything new for Nick. Lying – he had done that one too many times before. Choices – Nick was never good at making these. Never. Especially when others were involved. he said quietly, Burton Fallin never really considered himself to be a religious man, at least not until Nick came back into his life full-force. Now, he seemed to be calling on God more than ever. In the back of his mind he could still see that evening, that cold December night just after Christmas when he got the terrible call. Due to the bad weather, they couldn't get a flight out of Pitt. In spite of the storm, he and Laurie drove all night to get to the city. When they arrived, Nick was in surgery – he wouldn't be out for a few hours. That's when Laurie suggested he go to the chapel, say a little prayer (or two.) Pray he did that morning, and he has been ever since. Burton looked back again at his son, who still hadn't moved away from the desk. His distress was damn near palpable. ** Enough was enough. The old man couldn't take the silence any more. Hours had passed since the phone call ended and Nick hadn't said a single word to him. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, Burton just let him be and went off to finish his tasks in the backyard. That was then. Now, he was worried. Maybe his parental instincts were finally setting in. One of the men finishing the flooring in the kitchen told Burton when he came in that that Nick had since gone upstairs. Master bedroom, or so the worker thought. Nobody had seen him for a while though. The tiredness was something that Nick had been unable to mask that morning, even with his suspicious smile. Burton knew better, his son's eyes always told a different story. If Nick were the sensible type, he would've gone to lie down. But Nick wasn't. He'd likely be working, and he'd likely want to be left alone. Especially after that phone call. Burton told himself as he slowly made his way up the stairs. The master bedroom was on the right side of the hallway. He'd been in there just once, years ago, when Liz said she wanted to show him the view of the lake. The view, well, that was pretty amazing but so was the room itself. Spacious was one way to describe it. `Too much for just one person' was another. Another one of the workers had told him that Nick requested dark hardwood floors be put in throughout the house, and the master bedroom was no exception. He thought those might be easier to manage, with the kids and all. As he passed through the hall, Burton could see that the floors were completed. The doors to the other five bedrooms were left open. These were the rooms that were ready, ready to be shown and lived in. It didn't surprise him that Nick wanted to bring her and the kids here, he was just happy that this place was finally being put to use. Years earlier, when Liz told him she wanted to leave the house to Nick, he asked her what for. She told him in case Nick ever had a family, that it would be a nice family home. At the time, he laughed. He never thought that day would come – the day when his son would finally have a family to call his own, much less, a need for all these damn rooms. In one room, on the left, he could see the bunk beds Nick bought for little Jack. In the room on the right, the canopy bed he bought for sweet Charlotte. In the playroom, he could see the beautifully decorated walls and overstuffed toy-chests that awaited them. Burton thought to himself with a smile, he knew these kids would want for nothing. As he approached the master bedroom, he took a deep breath. Only God knew what he would be getting himself into on the other side of the door. The man who introduced himself as the contractor said there had been a lot of work done in here. Nick wanted a lot of improvements, a lot of extras added in here and there – fixing the fireplace, extra windows, larger closets, a nook for the TV over the mantle, a new tub in the bath. And of course, everything now had to be child- friendly. Picky as his son was about his environment, he was shocked to hear Nick had called in a decorator to help. Never having had a child around his own place, Nick wanted someone else's advice on making the house comfortable (and safe) for the little ones to be in. It was all part of his plan, part of his transition from bachelor to family man. Without further hesitation, he knocked. "Nicholas?" Burton called. "Just a minute…" Nick stepped back and looked over the finished crib, checking to make sure everything was right. He wanted to make the room as similar to Anne's at home as he possibly could. There were a lot of windows on the far side of her mother's bedroom, where her cradle was, and he knew his little girl loved to bask in the warm sun. It was his idea to put the crib into the small sitting room off the bedroom. It made it feel more like its own little space, a nursery that allowed for some privacy but also some closeness – closeness that he desperately wanted to have. A few weeks before, he found a small antique cherry dresser with tiny ivory rosebuds painted on the knobs of the drawers. It was the perfect accompaniment to the oversized ivory chair he bought, having seen one like it in Anne's mother's room at home. He knew she liked having it for when she was up with the baby during the night, since every now and then one of the other kids found their way into her bed. Burton wondered with a smile, knowing that his son was not overly fond of sharing his space, much less his woman. It wasn't but a moment before he thought of the phone call again, sure that it had something to do with the distance Nick was now keeping. Impatient as ever, Burton couldn't help himself. "You okay, Son?" "Fine… fine…" Nick picked up the pale pink receiving blanket he left on the bed and placed it over the rail of the crib. he decided, fixing it just so. In his mind, he could already picture her there. Her. His sweet little Annie. If only the day would come. "You can come in," he finally said. And Burton did just that. Amazed. He was simply amazed. Gone were the traces of Liz's sickness and Nick's first attempts to bring the room back to its intended glory. The dark molding had been restored, the walls freshly painted and there was a glowing finish on the wood floor. And the furniture, well, all it took was one look to know that no expense had been spared on that. A large beautiful sleigh bed was the focal point of the room. Burton thought with a chuckle, Mindful of his father's knack for criticism, Nick nervously shoved his hands into his pockets, "so what do you think?" Burton looked back at his son, still dumbfounded. "This is… this is… I just can't believe it…" Nick's mouth formed a weak smile, and he motioned Burton forward, "you remember this little room?" "Yeah," Burton glanced back at the bed, still caught up on the idea of Nick trying to read the paper with them kids jumpin' around. Ha. That room, that room. In Liz's last days, that's where she wanted to put her hospital bed, so she could see the lake. She had it sent there, to the lake house, but she never did make that final trip back up. Her health was so poor her last days were spent in a Pittsburgh hotel, as she refused to die in the hospital and no longer had a home there to call her own. Laurie, the saint that she is, had offered to let her come to their place. She wanted Liz to be comfortable, and at peace with the past. Dear as Liz once was to him, the very thought of having her there made Burton cringe. He had seen it all with Anne, albeit from a distance – there was no way he wanted to experience it again. Mercifully, God made the decision about Liz's situation before she could, and for that he would be eternally grateful. The `little room' was no longer that of a dying woman, but instead that of a thriving child. Light was everywhere. Nick stood proudly in the doorway as Burton passed, "I had them add a few more windows. In one of the books, it said that sunlight does wonders for kids, really helps to stimulate them…" Books, Nick had a lot of those. When he started seeing more of the baby, he also started to read. Every book he could get his hands on was bought; he wanted to know everything he possibly could about the syndrome. He wanted to be prepared for wherever it led them. Her mother had recommended a few, and Nick took it upon himself to look for more. She already had parenting experience, and he was struggling to catch up. Burton nodded knowingly, as if he had read the same pages. "You two plan on keeping her in with you for a while?" "Its easier for her to be in with her Mom, since she has the feedings and all…" Nick glanced out at the lake, "and really, who wouldn't want this view?" Burton mumbled, Innocent his son was not, especially not when it came to her. "Uh, Son…" Burton's aged eyes widened, "really now…" "What?" Nick continued to look away, as if he were trying to avoid the subject. "I imagine you'll be finding your way in here too…" his father said with a full-hearted chuckle, "am I right?" Highly irrelevant. Nick knew better. This was just one of those things that he didn't discuss, not with his friends and certainly not with his father. Not with anyone. His father was looking for details that he was not willing to give. They were his. This was private. He wanted something to keep his own. Like the image he had in his mind of them, him with her, after making love lying together on their bed with their sweet baby girl between them. "Maybe," Nick replied, as if to egg his father on. All he could do was shake his head. "Nicholas," Burton began, "I wasn't born yesterday." "No…that was seventy-five years of yesterdays ago…" Nick walked back into the main bedroom, laughing. The humor was not lost, even if it was at his own expense. "Smart- ass," the old man chuffed, his steely eyes honing in on his son from across the room, "I know both of you well enough now to say my grandchild was no product of Immaculate Conception…" Nick flashed a mischievous grin – this was a side of his father that he certainly wasn't used to. For as much as this man pleaded with him to `behave himself' with women in his youth, now he was damn near encouraging acts to further procreation. Oh, how things have changed. "What?" Burton's mouth formed a slow smile, "you think I don't know where grandchildren come from?" Awkward. That's what the moment was. Awkward. Nick thought to himself, sure that his father wouldn't be joking if he did. There were some many things he could've done differently, so much he had come to regret since that fateful night. Desperate to further their conversation, Burton dropped it at that. No, they weren't that close – at least not yet. He walked over toward his son, and put his hand on his shoulder, "anyway, Son, it looks nice… real nice in here…" "Thanks…" Nick's eyes moved around the room, taking it in, "I hope they like it…" It went without saying, Burton was sure they would. From what Nick had told him about her place, this – the lake house – would be quite the change. Her place was nice, nothing extravagant, but nice and manageable. Nick had said it was a good size for the family, at least its current size. Oddly enough, though the style wasn't his own, he even called it comfortable. He wanted this place to feel the same way. Comfortable. As he looked at his son, now sitting on the edge of the queen-sized bed, maybe he could see it. Maybe he could see this `family man' after all, with the baby in his arms and the other two in his lap making the most out of a Saturday morning. What troubled him, maybe moreso than that phone call, was the way Nick was avoiding questions about Annie's mom. Not just Annie's mom, but she was the mom of the kids that Nick intended to make his own. That, that was the part he didn't get. He knew that when Nick entered his daughter's life, Annie's mother made it clear that he wasn't expected to be in a relationship with her just to get time with their child. That would be his choice. Her feelings were clear, they had been from day one, but his – well… Nick was still recovering. A recovering alcoholic. A recovering drug addict. A recovering victim of one too many broken relationships and failures. For once, just this once, Burton hoped his son could figure out what the hell it was that his son wanted before it was too late. ** When Laurie told him this would likely be an all-day affair, she sure wasn't kidding. In fact, Nick had just come in to ask him what he wanted for dinner. Something simple, he answered, not having much strength left in him to eat. Given his retired status, this was a lot of work for an old man. Not only the physical exertion, but the mental as well – trying to figure out those phone calls. His mind had been running all day, or so he felt, and it was barely after six o'clock. His final task for the day was to finish putting together the swing Nick bought for Annie. She had one outside, on the swing set, for when she was bigger – but of course, Daddy's little princess would need one inside now. Grandpa was all too happy to oblige, especially if it meant he could come inside. He had more than enough fresh air for one day. Looking out the French doors, he took a moment to watch his son at work. This was a different type of work than he was used to seeing Nick do, more of the manual-labor variety. The building of the swing set seemed to be a task bigger than both of them, and their egos. Burton said out loud, proud of his finished product – it even worked, he tried it out, just to be sure. He told Nick earlier that if he finished it, they should take a picture for Laurie, knowing she would demand proof. This really was a day of firsts for him. Firsts for them. Enough. The gloating could wait. There was still work to be done, even if he was sore and tired. It was for the kids, that's what he kept telling himself, the grandkids that he had waited so long to have. Knowing that Nick wanted to have his `masterpiece' ready, Burton decided to head outside again – not that he'd be much help at this point. Maybe, just maybe he thought that Nick might mention those phone calls, or so he hoped. Before going out, he stopped in the kitchen to get each of them a glass of ice water. Had he been with anyone else, the occasion would've called for a drink – but given the circumstances, he knew this was better. Better for them both. "Nicholas," he called from the back porch, "you mind some company?" Hammer in hand, Nick looked up, "you finish in there?" Almost eagerly, Burton nodded, "think I'd dare come out if I didn't?" "Good point." Nick set the hammer down and got up off his knees, a little unsteady. "I hope one of those is for me," he said, pointing to the glasses. "My double-fisted days ended long ago," his father returned with a bittersweet laugh. Since Nick really didn't say much, he could only imagine how hard it was for him, to fight his demons day in and day out – especially now, knowing that there was someone depending on him. Burton set one of the glasses down on the table, and used his hand to shield his eyes as he looked toward the structure, "that thing just about done?" According to the instructions, it should be – but all the little extras he had to have extended the building process. Nick shrugged, "I could use a break." Out came a small sigh of relief. "Good, sit down…" Burton commanded, as if he were still the one in charge. Still every bit his father's son, Nick did as he was told. He reached for the glass, and took a long drink, "thanks." Now was his chance."Been meaning to ask you, Nick, since you didn't tell her `bout the house," Burton began, "I guess that means you didn't tell her `bout the money either?" He should've known that was coming. That's what it was all about to him, wasn't it? It all came back to money. "No… I didn't…" Nick answered flatly, "that's not what she's after…" "I know that, Son, known that since the day I met her…" Burton bit nervously at his lip, hoping to God that Nick wouldn't take this the wrong way. "But it could certainly make things more – comfortable – as you say…" he clarified, "make things a bit easier?" "That's what I was planning on…" Nick looked away for a moment, toward the lake, "but these are her choices to make…it's her kids' life, her life…" Burton thought to himself, unnerved by Nick's willingness to cut himself out of the family picture. That would have to change. That would definitely have to change. "I know she's gone back to work already," Burton waited a moment, "but does she really need to stay?" This was a discussion the two of them hadn't yet had, but he wanted to. That was something else to be added to their list. "She thinks so… but…I…" Nick hesitated a moment, "I just…" "But you disagree?" Burton surmised, "right?" "Right." Nick continued to stare out at the lake, distracted. "It's… it's a complicated situation...." Burton wanted to ask, but didn't. He knew better. "Has she ever mentioned leaving there? Taking a few years off?" Hundreds of possibilities filled his mind, but Nick just shook his head. "She doesn't have to. See her at home with the kids and you know that's where she'd rather be. I mean, she could go back later, if she wanted to, I guess…" If. There was always an if. Especially when Nick was involved. If his son had his way, Burton was sure that she probably wouldn't go back. Though Nick was never a believer of the notion that a woman's (only) place was in the home, he was hoping for a woman to come home to. – his father knew that much. Nick hadn't had that with Vanessa, and he certainly didn't find it with Grayson. "For now the kids need her," Burton furthered, "but what about you?" "Me?" Nick turned to face his father, almost shocked that he had asked. He knew exactly what his father was getting to, and he was afraid to answer. Point blank, he was just afraid. Afraid to make another mistake. Afraid to fail. To fail them, to fail her, to fail himself. He had lost everything once and he couldn't take it, not again. Knowing that there would not be any second chances, Nick just wanted to be sure. He wanted to be certain. He wanted it to be right – for all of them. ** The more he thought about it, the more things were starting to make sense. Now the picture was coming together. Nick's lack of conviction was clear in his voice. And though he tried to hide it by looking away, Burton could see the doubt in his son's stormy blue eyes. The phone calls, well, he still didn't know about those, but what he did know was that Nick was doing more damage that good by acting as he did. It was his typical routine, his `dance of uncertainty' if you will, dancing around an issue until it just goes away or falls apart right before him. There had to be a reason behind this. There had to be. Yeah. Yeah. He heard that word, `illegal,' in Nick's conversation and it scared him, knowing all too well about the trouble that already been, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Not this time. This time he wanted to give Nick the benefit of the doubt since he didn't know the whole story. This time he really wanted to believe that Nick was on the right path after all the struggles he had. This time he wanted to finally see his son happy after all the pain he had endured. This time. Burton thought glumly, staring down at his empty water glass. Their previous attempt at a conversation didn't go as he hoped it would, and he was no better informed now than he was when he arrived at Nick's door that morning. Apparently, Nick hadn't liked what he had to say about the money and he was showing it now with his silence. It wasn't that he was trying to paint Annie's momma in an unfavorable light, he certainly wasn't, but he was just trying to state what he felt was so obvious – that their situation could be a lot more comfortable if, well, if his son made a decent woman out of her and put a ring on her finger. Financially, she wasn't doing bad, not bad at all. Her former husband made sure that she and the children would be well taken care of, but pride kept her going to work. Perhaps it was to maintain a sense of security that she lacked at home, Burton didn't know, and he didn't have the gall to ask. That was none of his business. What was his business, or so he thought, was his little grandbaby. He just didn't like the thought of her and the other lil' ones being raised by someone else while their momma was at the office. In his day, that was unacceptable and/or socially undesirable. It was one thing to have a woman come in to `help' the mother, but it was a total scandal if someone else minded the children while the mother was sent to work. Pride was really what made the decision, or so he thought. He knew Annie's momma well enough to know that she was bound and determined to make sure she had to depend on no one. Given the precariousness of her situation with Nick, maybe he couldn't blame her. Fact is, he thought she was being too easy on his son. Giving him a choice, to not have to be with her in order to be with their child. That, well, that he just couldn't understand. In his mind, Nick wasn't taking full responsibility; he was taking the easy way. Yes, it was noted that Nick was more than eager to take on Annie's siblings, but what about her mother? Didn't he care for her too? At least a little? Their was a certain awkwardness about them that Burton couldn't comprehend, an awkwardness he attributed to how they first came together. Though Nick never gave him the full details, he was sure it wasn't anything to be proud of. It would be hard to go backwards, he supposed, after having a child and then trying to establish some type of real, meaningful relationship. Were they trying? He didn't know. Just the mere fact that she gave Nick that damn choice told Burton that she was looking for something more, a chance to really be together. And Nick, Nick was Nick – this time it was him who didn't know how to respond. he wondered as he glanced across the table at his son, A wave of discomfort passed through Nick as his eyes met with his father's. He was on the receiving end of the look of judgment, he was on the spot. Nick wanted to yell out, For whatever reason, he just didn't feel comfortable talking to his father about what was going on. He knew his father had invested a lot into this little `family' he was trying to become a part of, and if he failed, well – he'd be failing him too, not that that was anything new. And the phone calls, those left him unnerved and uneasy. Things had been going well, or so he thought. Now, he didn't know what to do after speaking to Mitch. It was too late to turn back, to turn away – not that he wanted to, but still. Illegal. Yes, he knew. Lies. Yes, he told those. Consequences. Yes, he knew he'd have to accept them if anyone found out the truth. The truth. The truth. It wasn't what he wanted to believe, it certainly wasn't what she wanted to believe, so why should they? Nick just didn't see the point. Doing this, what he had done, was easier; it was – in his mind – for the best. Somehow he knew his father wouldn't see things that way. Retired as he may be, Burton Fallin was still a man of the law, despite breaking it a time or two himself. "You seem to be doing a lot for something you're not certain about," Burton said quietly, setting his fork down on the empty plate. His eyes. That's all he had to see. Regardless of whether or not Nick would argue his claim, his eyes said it all. "No," Nick shook his head, as if trying to convince himself, "I am not uncertain." "Could've fooled me," Burton chuffed, "why you keeping so quiet then? Why are you looking at condos miles away instead of planning to live under the same roof?" Nick stopped himself. He knew better than to drudge up the past now. It wasn't worth it. His father didn't know the situation. He didn't know the mistake he was trying to avoid. "It's not that easy," he answered defensively, "I can't just assume that I can move in… that…" The old man's jaw tensed as he watched Nick squirm under his glare, "that what? That she wants you there? Because if you ask me…" "I didn't ask you…" Nick fired back, getting up from the table. He left his plate there; he'd worry about it later. Right now, he needed air. He needed to get outside. He needed space, time, time to think. Time to decide what to do. Nope. He wouldn't let him off that easily. "Nicholas…" Burton called tersely, "get back here…" Still walking toward the doors, Nick cast a quick glance over his shoulder, "what?" "Is it just the kids you're after, because if it is…" the old man started, "if it is…" That, those words stopped him in his tracks. Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "they need a father." Now standing in front of the table, Burton looked at his son in disbelief. "Is that all you are going to be? Livin' apart, sharin' custody, gettin' visits, changin' holidays and sleeping with other people?" Nick's mind was running wild. He had to get out. He had to get air. The scrutinizing gaze of his father seemed to follow him as he turned away. He opened the door to the patio and stepped outside. His looked toward the water, zoning out. "Son?" Burton stood in the doorway. That was close enough. "No," Nick rubbed his hand nervously at his nape, his back toward his father, "no… that's not what it's gonna be… that's not how it's gonna be…" It was no secret, he wasn't proud of how he hurt his child's mother. He wasn't proud of acting the way he did, putting the blame and the responsibility for their actions on her. He wasn't proud of treating her the way he did. And he certainly wasn't too proud to admit that he didn't think he deserved a second chance to be with her. Nick wanted to scream, but didn't. He knew his claims would fall on deaf ears. It didn't matter now, the past didn't matter. This was about the future. The future that he wanted to have but was too afraid to go after. Too afraid to lose her, too afraid to lose them. There were no guarantees, there just weren't any guarantees that it would work, that he could make this life – their life – work. When she told him, told him that he could be a part of their child's life without being a part of hers, he didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to do. He thought she was saying it because of how he hurt her, because she was ready to move on. He thought that was what he wanted, a chance to be a parent without risk of their own relationship ruining that with his child. He thought he had already let her go. After she told him this, he didn't expect that she'd still be kind to him, that she'd still welcome him into her home, that she'd still want him around, around her, around her family. He didn't expect her to treat him as she did, as if she still loved him, as if she still cared. He didn't expect her to make things so easy for him, to now accept him as he was instead of the man she wanted him to be. That's what scared him. That's what left him paralyzed and struggling with his choice. She accepted him, she wanted him – and he didn't want to let her down, he didn't want to be the disappointment to her that he was to everyone else. Nick had to remind himself of this, he was recovering. He was just coming out of a bad time in his life, and an even worse marriage. Here he was, starting over again at nearly forty-years old, and he had this choice. This time, he was determined to do what he wanted – though it might not necessarily be right. "No?" his father challenged, "you sure about that?" "I want to be their father," Nick stammered angrily, his eyes starting to well up with tears, "I want this family!" "Well, here's a newsflash, Son, this family comes with a mother – a mother that I am sure any man…" Burton furthered, hoping to strike a nerve, "any other man would be happy to have…" Nick could feel the rage building up inside him, a rage that he never felt when it came to anyone else. Only her. Only she could make him feel this way. For as much as he didn't want to share her, he was afraid to have her, afraid to hurt her. he wanted to plea to his father, Maybe he did see it. Maybe Burton Fallin knew him better than he thought. That's when the tears fell. "I…" Nick's voice quivered, "I…" Burton abruptly grabbed his son's shoulder, "what? Don't you want to be her husband? Or do you really believe that you can do this, have this family, without being `involved'? *** Title: "A Father's Day…" Part 5 Author: Sarah E. Grauvogl The familiar bottle was there, where he left it, well within his reach. It was tempting. That's one thing his father and Laurie overlooked when they prepared the place, cleaning out the cabinet, this cabinet. Why would they? After all, it wasn't like Nick to go into the shed. It wasn't like him at all. The two probably didn't think anything was in there. Or maybe if they did see it, they hoped he'd never find it again. That he'd never feel the `need' to find it. They were wrong. The bottle belonged to him, he bought it when he first came up years earlier – after his loss, after Vanessa – it was one of the few that was left unfinished. Nick thought to himself as eyed the tannish liquid inside of its glass form, Was it still good? He didn't doubt it. He didn't doubt what it could do to him, how it would make him feel. Nick nervously licked his lips, he could almost taste it. There was no denying it. He wanted to taste it, to feel the burn as the liquid moved down his throat and throughout his blood. He wanted it. Bad. He shouldn't have come out here. He knew better. He'd avoided it for weeks. He'd done well, he'd convinced himself that he'd be fine if he stayed focused, kept working. But he wasn't. Fine wasn't feeling as he did. Fine wasn't hurting as he was. Fine wasn't not knowing what you wanted until it was too late. Nick's heart raced that much faster, overburdened with anxiety. he repeated to himself, But is this what he expected of himself? No, at least not until now. Those calls, those calls that came earlier, he hadn't expected those – not today, not that afternoon, not the day before her and the kids came out. This was supposed to be their time; this was supposed to be his chance. A chance he feared would now be lost. Those calls had him second-guessing his decision, the choice that he made to be a part of his child's life. His father, well, he didn't help much either. Not by reminding him how easily it could all fall apart, by reminding him how easily she could find someone new – someone who could love her, love the kids, and give them all what they needed. His father sounded a lot like Mitch, his lawyer, reminding him of all that could go wrong instead of telling him what he was doing right. He just needed to hear that he was doing something right, right for them, right for those kids. They needed a father, they did, and that's what he was trying to be – just a father – just a father. It wasn't like this before, it was not like this at all. He had convinced himself that he didn't deserve an opportunity like this, the opportunity to assume such a responsibility and influence someone's life as only a father could. She changed that. She changed him. Why she ever gave him that second chance, God only knows, but she did. She gave him that chance. Nick asked himself as he stared at the half-filled bottle, swallowing hard. A cool sweat formed on his brow as the guilt started to set it. No. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Nick's eyes widened a bit, his hand now trembling. He wiped his brow and reached for the bottle. ** It was a choice. A choice he made sometime ago. A not so long time ago. A choice he made to accept the past for what it was and finally allow himself to move on. To forgive and forget. Well, maybe not forget. That's something that he, Burton Fallin, wasn't good at. An offense might be pardoned, but it was never really erased from his mind, much less his heart. What she, what Anne had done to him, at the time – it damn near killed him. He went out of his head, and damn near threw her out of his home. Damn near ended it all, sending her away just when she needed him most. Wasn't the first time she'd done it too him, but he never really thought she'd do it again. Never thought she'd be so careless, never thought she'd be so…so… Talking to Laurie about it, a lot of those feelings came back. A lot of the hurt, a lot of the pain, a lot of the anger. And it was time to let that anger go. Laurie was the first person he told the truth to. The first person to know; besides Liz, and she swore on her deathbed that she hadn't told a soul. She insisted that Anne hadn't told anyone either, and that it was probably best that way, Burton wanted to cry out. At the time, he thought he was doing what was the best, the best for that baby – the best for their little family, the family that he wanted them to have. It wasn't until Nick became a father himself that he began to second- guess his own decision, to second-guess the life they had and all that could've been. That's when he made another decision, the decision to come foreword. To talk about what happened, to explain why he did what he did. Laurie thought it was a good idea. She encouraged him. She was supportive and that's what he needed. He needed to know that he had done something right. After all, he wanted to be a father, just a father – just like Nick wanted to be now. This, this whole mess he wanted to clear up, that's partly why he came today. It wasn't that he thought that they'd get along, or have one of those emotional moments. He knew better than to hope for that. He knew his son, well, he was starting to anyway. Intentions are often misguided, he now believed. Tonight was case in point. Trying to talk to Nick, trying to steer him clear of another mistake and look how it turned out, here he was, sittin' alone on the back porch. Burton asked himself. He raised his tired eyes enough to look toward the shed. The light was on in there. That's where Nick had gone to escape his wrath. He just walked away, without sayin' a word. That's when he knew he had crossed the line. That's when he knew he had gone too far. Seeing Nick that way, seeing his boy so upset – he honestly couldn't remember the last time there'd been tears. There'd always been silence, but no tears. It hurt him. It hurt him that he hurt his son so bad, and that still, after all this time, all this struggle, they still couldn't communicate. Maybe that was something they just weren't meant to do. No. No. No. He wasn't going to think like that, not tonight. In his mind, he played through this day hundreds of thousands of times – what it would be like, how it would go, what he would say, how Nick might respond. He'd been puttin' it off for so long, waiting for the right moment, the right time. It seemed to never come. Given the usual distance between them, sometimes he wondered if Nick already knew. The funny thing about kids, Laurie once told him, is how smart they are. They always were aware of what was going on around them, and more often than not, they were more willing to be honest about it if questioned. Of course, they had to be the right questions, but after so many years in the business – she certainly knew which ones to ask. She too thought that maybe Nick found out, that maybe there was no longer a truth to tell, maybe he just accepted it and moved on. Burton said gruffly as he slowly rose from the chair. From the pocket of his shorts he retrieved a crumpled slip of paper. On the paper, a number was scrawled. No name, just a number. Laurie had written it down for him, he didn't have the heart to do it himself. He still didn't feel ready. It hadn't been his idea to call that number on that cold winter day months before, it was Laurie's. She thought he should. She thought it might prepare them both. he wondered aloud, his forty year-old wound reopened. A response was more than he could have hoped for. All he had to do was say his name and the call ended. No surprise there. But there would be no settling this time. This time, he was going to fight. After all, he was a lawyer – a damn good one – and damn good ones don't give up. Details, he had a lot of those now, he knew more than he wanted too and that knowledge was a burden that he no longer wanted to carry. He didn't want to pass it on to Nick, not if he didn't want it – he had his own problems. He would allow him to choice, the choice to call the number. Staring at the shed, Burton took a deep breath, From that point on, he knew that things would-could-never be the same between them. Once he opened that door, it couldn't be closed. ** A mess. That's what he had made. It was a mess he'd have to clean up before anyone else could see it, a mess that would have to be gone before they got there. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours and they'd be back, back within his reach. Whenever they left, whenever they went home, he was always worried they wouldn't come back, always worried that she would change her mind. Nick said quietly, What a site it was, especially for the recovering alcoholic. Shards of broken glass littered the floor. Its former contents was a sizeable puddle. This had been his solution. his solution. Nick wondered, his hands still trembling. He himself, still in shock. The shed was a good ways from the house, pretty far into the yard, but still. He had thrown the bottle pretty hard, and its impact with the floor was even harder. Well, maybe he didn't throw it. Maybe it dropped. But still. Looking at the broken glass, he wasn't proud of what he had done, his method of prevention. The taste was still in his mouth, the tingling in his throat. Alcohol was in the air – it only heightened his other senses. It was on his clothes now too. He'd have to do something about that, but first, for now – he had to get this glass off the floor. He bent down slowly, not trusting his body, and started picking up the pieces. One by one, into the trashcan they went. He had to be certain not to miss a piece, he couldn't afford to, not if the kids went in there. Nick mumbled as he reached for a another piece, It wasn't long before the glass was cleared. The cut on his right hand was the least of his worries. It could've been worse, this could've been much worse. The liquid, it could dry up on its own. But he didn't want to wait. He didn't want to leave any evidence of this behind. Nick grabbed an old rag off the workbench and kneeled down on the floor. Windows. He knew he should open those before he left. The air would help clear the scent. It was distinct, anyone could guess what it was. The cut. Nick didn't have an answer. His hand was now throbbing and he winced as he opened it. There was blood. It was deeper than he thought. ** Afraid he would lose his will if he waited much longer, Burton started making his way toward the shed. It was tucked away, in the back of the yard near the fence. Liz, initially, had wanted it torn down. He convinced her otherwise, saying it had a purpose. Its purpose, at least while she was alive, was to hold Jeremy's things. She was too upset too part with them permanently, yet too despondent to live with them inside the house. Laurie helped him put everything away in there while Liz busied herself with other chores. Liz had never done much with the house, not like she intended to. She had visions of grandeur, and though her budget would allow for it, her lifetime wouldn't. Maybe that was why she left it to Nick. She had, in fact, on more than one occasion, referred to him as a `work in progress.' One of the first things the contractor said Nick wanted was a new floor for the shed, there were some projects that he wanted to do in there. Projects? His son? When he asked him about it, over lunch, all Nick would say was that he was `working on a few things'. Vague as ever, in true Nick fashion. A shed. Burton asked himself, never having imagined his son as the type who wanted to work with his hands, at least not in that way. Curiosity got the better of him. Before he could knock on the door, let Nick know he was there, he had to peek in. Shelves. Tools. Wood. He saw several pieces, a few different types. The planks and pieces lined up against the back wall. He saw his son, standing there, his hand over his mouth. He too was looking at something. Burton said with a soft chuckle, it was all he could do to take his mind off things. Things as they were now. Things as they never would be again. With those calls, when they came, he considered waiting. Waiting to talk, waiting to tell him. It didn't make any sense. Neither one of them was getting any younger, neither one any less stubborn, or any more willing to listen. Try as he may to give his son the benefit of the doubt, it was hard. Nick was now a father and he might, just might, understand him. But even if Nick didn't, it was up to him, his own father to give him that chance. Nick deserved to know the truth. Taking a deep breath and all the courage he could muster, Burton knocked at the door. A little loud at first, his knock softened as he backed away, waiting. "Nicholas?" he called. Burton's heart began to race, Another knock. "Nicholas?" he called again. That knock Nick heard, it startled him, a merciful distraction from his thoughts. He looked up toward the window, and saw his father standing there – wearing his shorts, his shirt. It seemed funny, to see him that way, the Burton Fallin he knew would've never been caught dead dressed like that, so casual, so unprofessional. But that was then. That was with him – his oh so troubled, wayward son. Now, now he was someone else, another man. Now he was somebody's grandpa. Now he wore shirts with handprints and was referred to as "Papa." Now he was more concerned with scheduling the kids' next visit than his business ventures. Now he was patient, at least with them. Now he was loving and proud. That damn sweatshirt – for some odd reason, that stuck out in his mind. He couldn't help but ask, when he saw it. It was such a surprise. There his father was, happy as could be, wearing a sweatshirt with three little sets of handprints on it. He thought the old man had gone mad. Really mad… * "What's…" Nick struggled with the words, "your…" "Nice isn't it?" his father asked, as he straightened himself to show the shirt properly, "Laurie and the kids made it…" Three little sets of handprints. Jack's. Charlotte's. Annabelle's. He could see them all – he wouldn't be surprised if their mother had a hand in the effort too. She appreciated things like that, the little things. "I can tell…" he returned quietly, "it's… it's nice…" "Son, I know what you're thinking…" his father replied, wagging his finger at him, "and I don't care…" "Good." All he could do was smile at the sight. "Good." * That's when he knew that his father and Laurie were in this for keeps, that they wanted those kids and that family as much as he did. They asked to keep the kids, just a few hours, just to visit. To soak up that type of affection that they waited so long to receive. That was just a few weeks ago, when they staked their claim – when they decided that these were going to be their grandkids. They didn't care who was whose and what went on, all they cared about was being called "Nana" and "Papa Burton" and having 3 little ones to chase after and hold. Laurie said she'd never seen his father happier. He knew that she was happy too, in fact, she was beaming. He knew they had invested a lot of themselves into these few hours with these three kids. They relied on him, just like the kids did, just like she did; they depended on him to make this work – to make this family happen. It was all up to him, and that scared him. He didn't want to let anyone down. Not again. Not them. Those words, what his father said earlier, it got him thinking – thinking about things he didn't want to think about. When Mitch, his lawyer, when he called, he wanted to hang up, to make it go away. He was tired of people always expecting things to go wrong, expecting him to screw up. This, this family – this was the one thing he vowed to do right, he wanted it that bad. So bad it hurt. His body was tense; the stench of the liquor was starting to get to him. He bit his lip nervously, all too well aware that his father was out there, waiting to come in. "Nicholas?" Burton clenched the doorknob, impatient, "you okay?" "Fine, Dad…" Nick wiped the fresh tears from his eyes and cleared his throat, "the door is open…" Fair enough. He let himself in, not sure what he was expecting to fine. As he entered, Nick took a few steps back, ashamed. Sensory overload. His eyes. He could finally see the work his son was doing, the beautiful craftsmanship that he had no idea that his boy was capable of. A small table and chairs that was no doubt meant for the playroom. A rocker, not one of those modern ones that was all padded and overdone, but a old-fashioned, hand carved masterpiece. His ears. There was silence. Silence was nothing new between them. His nose. No. Burton chided himself. Foolish man, never ask the questions you don't really want answered. The scent was familiar. More familiar than it should be. He was no stranger to the bottle himself. But Nick? Clues. He looked around for clues. Hoping, praying, that Nick hadn't spent his time alone in there doing what he thought he might be doing. Burton's eyes moved slowly around the room, desperate to find anything, anything at all that might convince him otherwise. A loss. That's what he was at, a real loss. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Nick thought it best to just not say anything. His father would come to his own conclusions anyways – he had no reason not to. Since his boy wouldn't explain himself, Burton took a deep breath. "Son… do I?" Although he knew exactly what it was, he willfully took another whiff, "is that…?" "Yes." Nick shoved his hands into his pockets and stared downward, like a child who knew he would soon be disciplined for something he didn't do. Innocent until proven guilty? Not in this family. * To be continued…