Winning the Lottery - 36. Chapter 36 - Facing a delemma

Don and Marco:

The family hadn’t so much ‘settled’ into Hawaii as Hawaii had ‘embraced’ the family. The transition to a cohesive family group had gone much smoother than they’d hoped thanks to the support of family, friends and kind strangers. The children were adapting well socially, especially picking up the local dialect, and had begun to speak to each other in pigeon Hawaiian—a few words here and there. Don and Marco found this adorable and thought it would bode well for the future. To give the children exposure to the proper Hawaiian language they hired a tutor to work with them on Saturday mornings.

Even flying visits from the grandparents hardly caused a ripple in their weekly routine. Don’s parents were, as usual, somewhat reserved, but supportive. Don’s mother declared the children as “darling!” but remained well out of reach of drool and sticky fingers. Don’s father went as far as to declare, “You’ve done well, son.”

Don’s mother did something surprising. Besides bringing gifts for all the children, she pulled a velvet box from her purse and asked Angie to approach. She opened the box to reveal a single strand of evenly matched pearls. “Angie, these pearls are very old and very valuable. Something special like this is called a family heirloom. My great grandfather gave them to my great grandmother. They were passed to my grandmother, then my mother and finally to me. I don’t have a daughter, and as my only granddaughter it’s you who are next in line to keep them. I hope one day you’ll pass them on to your daughter.”

Sensing the seriousness of the moment, Angie held the pearls reverently while it was explained that they would be kept in her fathers’ safe. They were to be worn with great care for special events.

Marco’s parents, being Italian, were the polar opposite. They showered the children with affection and encouraged boisterousness and candy eating. They cried copiously when it was time to go home. It took Don and Marco two days to settle the children down again.

“Well, we survived two sets of parents,” said Marco. “Everything else is going to be easy!”

“Maybe not,” replied Don. “Dusty is arriving for an extended stay. I think he has a tendre for our Gwyn. He’s coming to oversee the renovation of his family’s hotel, but I sense he has an ulterior motive! Marco, he cannot, absolutely cannot, be allowed to take our Gwyn away.”

“I see what you mean. Losing Gwyn would be a catastrophe. Well, he’s your friend; you’ve known him for how many years now? Maybe you can talk some reason into him.”

“I’ve known Dusty for about 15 years, ever since we were dorm mates in our first semester at Berkeley. Our fathers had known each other through business for many years before that.”

“And doesn’t he have some strange, name?”

“Dusty? Yes, his real name is Dunstan Elliott du Pont Millbrook III. Old New England money. His family is into banking and real estate, although I think they’ve branched out into high tech now. ...Well, everybody has.”

“So the cowboy thing was what, a break? Rebellion?”

“Probably a little of both. Dusty was always a bit wild, jumping from one crazy scheme to the next. He can’t seem to settle. He’s got a law degree from Columbia, but after he was called to the New York Bar he joined the Peace Corps and spent two years in Africa. After that he worked for the UN in Geneva for a couple of years. He’s always moved around every year or two. Unfortunately, he’s also an unrepentant womanizer, which is what has me worried. Naturally, he and his conservative father don’t see eye to eye. Deciding to run off and be a cowboy for a year to ‘get his head together’ was another of his schemes, so he approached my father and got a position on the Wyoming ranch. He grew up on his family’s equestrian estate on Long Island, so he was already a very good rider. The year seemed to do him good; I thought he might be settling down a little....”

“So now he’s back to claim his birthright and sweep Gwyn off her feet?”

“Yes, it would appear so. But is Gwen just another in a long line of adventures? He has to be stopped this time! Security confirmed he’s at Gwyn’s. Has been for the whole afternoon. I’ll phone him. He needs to be confronted!

Gwyn:

I didn’t sleep well on Saturday night. For one thing, the babe was rolling around and kicking me like a horse. And, the eventful week I’d had gave me plenty of food for thought. But it was Dusty who occupied the majority of those thoughts. Who, exactly, was he? Did he come to Hawaii solely on business? Was I destined to unrequited love? Was he even remotely interested?

I got up feeling groggy and looking like I’d been run over by a truck. The bags under my eyes! A warm shower revived me somewhat, and a cup of camomile tea helped settle my edginess. I carefully applied a light touch of makeup as I’d been taught, using a little extra concealer to cover the bags under my eyes. My hair just needed to dry naturally, and the shampoo I’d used gave it a lustrous shine. I chose a short, loose sundress that de-emphasized my largess and drew attention instead to my long legs. Simple leather sandals and bangles at my wrist completed the outfit.

Security alerted me to Dusty’s arrival. I made one last check in the hall mirror, straightened my shoulders and practiced a dazzling smile which, unfortunately, looked more like a dazzling grimace.

I opened the door to a Dusty I almost didn’t recognize. The cowboy look had been replaced by a well-to-do-tourist look. Lacoste golf shirt, khaki cargo shorts and leather boat shoes. His hitherto unruly hair, still long and curly, had been brushed back neatly away from his forehead. But the new look didn’t disguise the dusty I remembered. He was still all: Male! Testosterone! Sex!

“Dusty?” Of course I knew it was him, but my greeting came out as a question.

“Gwyn?”

Dusty had never been effusive at the best of time, and I suddenly found myself tongue tied. I stepped aside and gestured him in.

The door closed; we faced each other. I don’t know who moved first, but suddenly I was in his arms and we were kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. And what an amazing kisser he was!

“Oh, God, Gwyn, you’re beautiful! I need you so badly!” That’s all I needed to hear—he was echoing my own desperate thoughts.

(Fortunately, I’d discussed sex with my obstetrician who told me it was perfectly okay almost right up until my due date, providing I was comfortable and used a condom.)

I led him by the hand down the hall to my bedroom where we set ourselves diligently to the task. Dusty certainly knew how to please a woman, and he had all the right equipment to do it!

Afterwards, we lay sated, my head resting on his hairy, muscular chest. The regular pulse of his heart hypnotizing me.

“Gwyn?” he rumbled.

“Yes, Dusty,” I sighed, barely awake.

“Will you marry me?”

“Mmmm....” It seemed like I was dreaming his words—a lovely, pleasant dream....

“I want the baby to have my name. We’ll get married before he arrives.”

“Mmmm....” This dream was getting better and better.

“Gwyn, are you listening to me?”

“Mmmm....” In my dream Dusty wanted to marry me and be a father to my baby. Lovely!

Unfortunately my lovely dream was rudely interrupted by the arrival home of the boys. “Gwyn!” cried Michael loud enough to wake the dead.

I jerked awake, annoyed at the interruption of my beautiful dream. “Um...I’m in my bedroom, Michael. I’ll be out in a minute!” I jumped out of bed, my brain throwing off its lethargy. I quickly threw on some clothes, tried to smooth down my disheveled hair, willed myself to be calm, and left the bedroom shutting the door on Dusty.

“Where’s Dusty? Was that his rental car out there?”

“Um....” I watched Michael’s eyes grow wide as the penny dropped.

“Gwyn! You didn’t! That was fast work!” he said. Then he yelled toward my bedroom door, “Dusty you dastard! Come out and face your nemesis!” That’s my Michael, a real joker!

Dusty, clothed but rumpled, appeared looking not the least contrite. Men!

Michael gave Dusty a stern, withering look, and in a stern, but fake, upper-crust British accent said, “Young man, what are your intentions toward my sister?”

I was just about to give Michael a rebuke, but Dusty spoke first. “Sir,” he replied, playing along, “I would most respectfully ask for the hand of your sister in marriage.”

Michael turned to Paco, who had been standing silently taking in the drama. (Lord! This would be all over the Hawaii grapevine by sundown!) In the same hoity-toity voice he said, “Paco, should I permit this scoundrel to marry my ward?”

“Um...I guess...” mumbled a dazed Paco.

“The oracle has spoken!” intoned Michael. He bowed to Dusty. “You may carry the damsel off on your white steed, Sir!”

“Michael, Paco,” I said, “This is all just a...misunderstanding...we haven’t...discussed...uh...committed to anything!”

“Au contraire, my dear Gwyn,” contradicted Dusty. “You responded most positively to my proposal. We shall be married within the fortnight.”

I puffed myself up to contradict him, but Michael pre-empted me by stating, “Gwyn, trying to avoid fate is futile!”

At my glare, Michael wisely chose to make himself scarce, leading Paco to his bedroom.

“We need to talk, Dusty. Like two, sensible, independent adults. Did you really propose? I thought it was a dream. At any rate, I don’t remember saying ‘yes.’ It was presumptuous of you to tell Michael.”

Dusty, completely unrepentant, smiled broadly and informed me that, in his humble opinion, my ‘Mmmm’ was legally binding.

“Dusty, please listen to reason,” I said. “I’d marry you in a heartbeat if I was free, but I’m not. I’m duty bound to Don, Marco and the children, whom I love as if they were my own. Please don’t force me to choose. Besides, Dusty, you hardly know me!”

“Gwyn, I love you madly. As for not knowing you, well, that’s not true. I watched you all summer long interacting with the children, and calming Don and Marco’s worries. You were charming to Derrick and Gabe, and you even had that little terror, Dane, under your spell. Also, you even managed to mollify that dragon of a security supervisor. And Gwyn, I see the way you look at me, the way you respond to me. You love me. Am I right?”

I took a deep calming breath and decided to tell the truth. “Yes...you are right,” I admitted. “I fell for you observing your patience and generosity. Well that, and the way you looked astride a horse!”

“Well then, that’s a good start,” said Dusty. “As for you commitment to Don and Marco, I think I have an idea that might please everybody...”

“Dusty, I’m attracted to you, there’s no question about that. But I don’t really know you,” I said. “I’d rather put off hearing your plan until after I find out more about you.”

“Okay,” he said, “Fair enough.” Then he proceeded to tell me about his background.

I was surprised to learn that Dusty was from a wealthy family; that he, in fact, was independently wealthy. The stint as a cowboy was his attempt to ‘get his head together.’ “There’s nothing like hard physical labor and having to work in the broiling sun or a howling blizzard to set a guy on the straight and narrow,” he said, laughing. And, I had no idea that Don and Dusty had been good friends for many years.

He asked me for a quick summary of my life and showed a surprising interest in the minutia of my more modest family, and asked about Michael’s currently role. I explained it, and he said he had no wish to usurp Michael’s position, asking only if he could be present, in the room, when the baby was born. He also said that his family had contacts with New York and London tailors. He’d use his influence to obtain apprenticeships at a prestigious house for Michael and Paco. He also explained that the origin of the Deacon fortune was in tailoring and fabrics, so there was that connection as well.

He admitted that he was in Hawaii to oversee the renovation of one of his family’s hotels, but that was just an excuse to ‘settle’ here for awhile. He emphasized that it was me, who lured him to Hawaii!

“Okay,” he said, “You know about me; I know about you. Can I tell you my plan for our future? I think everyone will be happ....”

He was interrupted by his ringing phone. It was Don calling. “Shoot,” he said, “I should answer. I haven’t spoken to him since arriving here. He’s probably having a heart attack wondering what I’m up to.”

“Hey, Don!” .......... “Don, Don, slow down or you’ll give yourself a stroke!” .................. “Yes, Don, I understand, and, no, I have no intention of ‘dragging her into one of my crazy schemes’ or ‘trifling with her emotions’ as you are so eloquently suggesting! ......... “Just calm the fuck down, buddy! Gwyn and i will come over and we’ll talk like sensible adults!”

Hearing Dusty’s heated words, and knowing that Don was upset with him, and probably me, sent my stomach roiling. This conflict was entirely my fault. If only I wasn’t so impulsive! I loved Dusty but marrying him was impossible. I had a sacred duty to Angie, Brad and Johnny whom I also loved dearly. Love, duty, trust, responsibility, heartbreak...all those words were ricocheting around in my brain making me feel light headed. The room began to spin. Red spots danced in front of my eyes. I broke into a cold sweat. Then everything went black. The last thing I remember was trying to call out to Dusty for help....

“Gwyn! Gwyn, honey, can you hear me?” My eyes opened to see Dusty’s face inches from my own. I became aware that I was lying on my back on the couch with my legs elevated on a cushion. “Jesus, Gwyn, you scared the life out of me! Are you okay?”

“Um...yeah, I think so....”

“I’m not so sure. Fainting isn’t normal Gwyn. I’m going to call 911.”

Michael came and put a very welcome cold cloth on my forehead. “Dusty’s right. You need to get checked out.”

“No really, it’s too embarrassing....”

I was overruled, and minutes later two paramedics entered the house. They checked my vitals and pronounced me ‘out of danger’ but suggested I go to bed and rest. I was ordered to rest frequently, to avoid strenuous exercise and to avoid stress for next month. I was also instructed to call me obstetrician first thing in the morning.

Just as they were leaving, Don showed up looking panicked. “What happened? Security told me an ambulance had pulled in here. Gwyn, are you okay? Dusty, if you’ve caused....” He and Dusty were glaring daggers; it looked like they’d be at each other’s throats any second.

“Stop!” I hissed, but the emotion and the effort of speaking set my stomach churning again.

Seeing theof pallor of my face, they took the hint and shut up, both looking contrite.

Michael, who’d been hovering in the background through all this drama, came to the rescue. “Both of you, take your dispute outside! You heard the paramedics, Gwyn needs rest.” Who knew my Michael could be so assertive?

The men complied sullenly. Michael, after changing the sheets, got me tucked into bed. My head was hardly on the pillow when I fell into a deep sleep. I awoke to see rays of sun pushing through the shutters. I’d been having the most wonderful dream about Dusty making love to me...and...proposing marriage....

As the veil of sleep lifted, reality came flooding back. Dusty had made love to me. He had proposed!

Shame, and guilt, and fear washed over me like a cold wave as I realized I had a very difficult decision to make: Stay with the children, or marry Dusty. Either way, I’d be hurting people I loved and rendering my own soul broken. My father would tell me to pray. I was praying alright...praying the earth would open up and swallow me whole!

At any rate, that was unlikely to happen, and, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hide in bed all day. I could hear conversation coming from the family room. Not loud, but definitely two or three masculine voices. I hauled myself out of bed, used the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face and put on my robe. I took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the family room....