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- 01/25/2022
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Timothy - 84. Chapter 84
The next morning, sitting at the breakfast table, I noticed Mom’s eyes were red as if she had been crying. Looking at Dad, I could see the hurt in his eyes.
Stephen had made breakfast, “We have a new chef this morning.” It was as if I never spoke. No response. Mom and Dad were miles away. I excused myself and called the hospital. I wanted to arrange a meeting with Ann Marie for Mom and Dad. Talking with Ann Marie’s doctor, he agreed to a luncheon date. I insisted he was there, and he said he would be glad to attend. Thinking about his response, he was quite happy to be included. I need to ponder his response but not now.
Returning to the kitchen, “Mom, Dad, I have arranged for you to have lunch with Ann Marie. Her doctor will accompany you.”
That seemed to enlighten the mood. Stephen and I left for work. There was one more loose end, and that was to get Eva and John here. Then I can focus on my lawsuit.
When I thought I started to see an end to all of this turmoil, the company I used to process my summons called to say that the address I gave them was wrong. There was no one living at that address. The building manager said the people that lived there moved out last week. I was afraid that Bruce’s friends would have tipped him off when they read the newspaper article about the DA issuing an arrest warrant. Now I needed Donnie.
During lunch, I told Stephen about my phone call. “Tim, what’s our next move?”
I looked at Stephen, and my problem now became our problem. I leaned over the table and kissed him. I heard a few giggles, and Gramps clapped. Between Stephen and I, we updated Gramps. He knew about Ann Marie, but he didn’t know about Tom.
Walking home, “Are you going to contact Donnie?”
“No, he already knows. I expect tonight he will tell me where Bruce is. I know where ever he is, it would be an English-speaking country or a country where most people speak English. Our high school only taught Latin as a language.
“Why does any school teach Latin anymore? Spanish would be more important in your city.”
“I’m glad they don’t teach Spanish. If Bruce knew how to speak Spanish, he could vanish anywhere south of our border. Now he needs to go to a country where English is spoken.”
“There are people in Latin America who speak English.”
“True, but he will need to work. Donnie will tell me tonight.”
“Who’s car is that?”
“I don’t know. It isn’t John or Eva’s.”
“They may have a new car.”
Walking into the house, I saw Mom, Dad, John, Eva, and two people I didn’t know sitting drinking coffee at the dining room table. “We saw the car parked out front and didn’t know who was here. I’m glad to see you. But I don’t know you.”
“I’m John’s father.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I looked for Stephen to introduce him. Turning, there he was, carrying Eva Marie. I should have known.
I would help Mom make dinner, but Eva and Mrs. Aspin told me they would help. Dad took Mr. Asp[in and John to the basement. Stephen, with Eva Marie, headed upstairs to change and sort out sleeping arrangements. “We will need to give up our bedroom.”
“That is okay. We can manage with the bed in Randy’s room.”
I was anxious to know how lunch went, but I would have to wait to speak to Dad.
Dinner reminded me of the old days. We talked and talked, laughed and laughed, of course, Stephen ignored us as he was too busy with Eva Marie. I smiled. He’s going to be a great father.
That night, Donnie came with a new address for Bruce. He was in Canada. The firm he worked for had a Canadian office, and he transferred there. I got the address. I’ll notify the DA in the morning, and he can serve the arrest warrant. Until he’s brought back to the US, I’ll wait to sue him. I slept well in the arms of my husband. Little Eva Marie slept next to Stephen in her bassinet.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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