Title: A Little Frohike
By: MagsRose
Feedback: magsrose@comcast.net
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Frohike gets some shocking news from an old friend
Disclaimer: Well, you know who and you know what - used without permission, Seattle's Best
Coffee and Starbucks are registered trademarks and are also used without permission
Hall Bros. Funeral Home
Frohike stood in the back of the funeral home's chapel trying to be inconspicuous. He just wasn't ready to be seen. He had been determined to come even though Langly had told him he should just keep out of it. The deceased had been his lover for two short but memorable months all those years ago. And besides, how often do you get an invitation to such an occasion from the person for whom the funeral is being held?
He leaned forward a little trying to see past the rows of pews but everyone stood up at that moment and he was unable to spot what he was looking for. He stepped back into the shadows as the mourners filed out. The first group up and out the door, mostly professional types in expensive suits, did not notice Frohike in his dark corner. All of them solemnly filed past him without so much as a backward glance.
"Business associates," he told himself. These left immediately. Another group was a little more interested in his presence but did not speak to him. He was grateful. He was not yet prepared to explain his right to be in this place at this time. One woman gave him a longer look than the others. He ignored her.
These people milled around in the vestibule of the chapel speaking to one another in hushed tones. They were waiting for a sign that it is time to go to their cars for the long, wagon train journey to the cemetery.
He turned his attention to the front pew. There. That must be her. She sat unmoving facing the long, highly polished coffin. Alone. Very much alone. The funeral home attendants stood back out of her field of vision waiting for a sign that she was ready for them to wheel the coffin out. Frohike took a deep breath, adjusted the tie that Byers had lent him, and walked up the center aisle. He paused at the entrance of the pew just behind her. She heard him and turned her head slightly but not far enough to see him. He paused unsure how to proceed.
Several weeks earlier - Takoma Park
"Lone Gunmen Group, Byers speaking."
"I would like to speak to Melvin Frohike."
"He's right here." Byers covered the receiver with his hand. "Frohike, it's for you."
"Who is it?" Frohike asked without looking up from fine tuning his column.
"May I ask who is calling?"
The woman laughed and said, "Tell him that it's the bean stalk."
Looking puzzled, Byers relayed the information. For a moment Frohike just stared at him. "What did you say?"
Dutifully Byers repeated what the woman had said. Frohike finally got up. "I'll get it upstairs," was Frohike's reply. He took the stairs two at a time. Although he was tempted to listen, Byers hung up the phone when he heard Frohike pick up the receiver.
"What was that all about?" Langly had become interested when he heard the bean stalk comment.
"I don't know." Byers tried to go back to the layout he was working on when the phone rang but Langly kept hovering by the phone. "If you pick it up he'll hear you."
"Come on, man, don't you want to know?"
"Not really," Byers lied. He didn't do it often but he knew if he gave in even a bit Langly would not let up.
Langly poked at the phone for a while then began to move nonchalantly towards the stairs. "You need to give him a little space," Byers warned.
"But I'm hungry!"
"Jimmy went grocery shopping. There's not much left up there. Just wait until he gets back and leave Frohike alone."
"C'mon, Byers, I'll just take a quick peek. He won't even know I'm up there."
"Yes, he will. He doesn't miss much."
"No, I don't." Both men jumped. Frohike had returned while they were arguing.
Langly started right in. "Who was that?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Byers said it was a woman."
"That's none of your business, Punk."
"Okay, fine, don't tell me. I don't know why I even bothered to ask!!"
Langly stomped off up the stairs mumbling under his breath that if everyone wanted to keep him in the dark he would just go get something to eat and that a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich was his only true friend anyway and there better damn well be some bread left. Byers looked at Frohike. He took a breath to say something but then thought the better of it. When Frohike wanted to talk he would.
Two days later, Frohike stood outside the Smithsonian Arts and Industries building. He was early. He had taken the Metro train from Takoma Park. There was an underground stop less than two blocks from where he now waited. He could have asked one of the guys to drive him but he wanted to see what Michelle wanted before his friends found out about her. Besides who would want to drive into DC unless they absolutely had to.
The building to his left was called 'The Castle' but this one looked the part also. Both Smithsonian buildings were wonderfully detailed brick structures with stained glass windows. He supposed this one looked more like a church than it's neighbor. The Castle had flag topped turrets and towers although the illusion was rather tainted by the scaffolding covering nearly a third of its exterior.
Frohike bided his time by getting acquainted with Spencer Fullerton Baird, 1823 - 1887. His statue guarded the front entrance. The inscription on the base stated that he was the second secretary of the Smithsonian Institution and that he was a pioneer in American Natural History.
"The man was either very tall and liked to wear skirts under his suit coat or the artist suffered from a surplus of bronze," a familiar female voice said from behind him. Frohike turned around and looked up into the face of his former lover. She had shoulder length, dark auburn hair and green eyes. Dressed in a tailored business suit she looked like she had just come from the office to meet him. She was even taller than he remembered. She bent down to hug him.
"How have you been, Melvin?"
"I've been good. What about you?"
"Until recently, very good but let's go inside and sit down because that's what I need to talk to you about."
Halls Bros Funeral Home
The young girl, not quite 12, turned her head farther and looked up at him. That released Frohike from his paralysis and he came around to stand in front of her. She said nothing but didn't take her eyes off him. He introduced himself, "My name is Melvin Frohike. I'm very sorry about your mother."
The girl's eyes widen ever so slightly when he said his name. "She told me you would be here." She spoke softly but without hesitation. She stood up and held out her hand. "My name is Emma MacKenzie. I'm pleased to meet you."
Frohike took her offered hand in both of his. She didn't have her mother's height but at 11 she would still be growing. She had long, brown hair that was French braided on both sides of her head and met in one braid that hung down to nearly her waist. Her eyes were green but they were not reddened from crying as he had expected. Maybe her glasses hid it. He began to speak but was interrupted by a loud voice from the back of the chapel.
"Poppet!" It was the woman who had taken a good look at him earlier. Emma flinched at the sound of the woman's voice and held on a little tighter to Frohike's hand. "We need to let these nice men do their job and everyone is waiting for you so that we can go to the cemetery. We do need to go. The weather looks like it's going to turn on us and I don't want you out in the wet and the cold...." She continued talking in this manner as she advanced on them.
"Come, Poppet, we really must be going. Thank the strange, little man for coming and let's be on our way."
Emma reluctantly released Frohike's hands allowing the woman to lead her away. At this point an older, distinguished looking black man came up a side aisle and introduced himself.
"My name is Clarence Brown. I believe you spoke with the deceased Miss MacKenzie a number of weeks ago." When Frohike said that he had, Mr. Brown handed him a business card. "Please be at this address tomorrow by 9:00 AM to give us your decision." The card listed an address for a lawyer's office in Georgetown.
Frohike looked from the card in his hand back to the entrance to the chapel just in time to see Emma glance back at him before she was nearly pushed out of the funeral home by the woman who had taken charge of her in her mother's absence.
The Smithsonian Museum of Arts and Industry - several weeks earlier
Frohike looked up from the picture of a smiling 11 year old wearing a black watch plaid jumper that had to be a private school uniform. She had a band of freckles that marched determinedly across her nose. He asked the question most men do when they find themselves in this situation, "But how did this happen?" He immediately regretted it. It was just such a stupid question. He knew it when it formed in his brain but he was so taken aback by the information that couldn't keep the words from tripping out of his mouth. He didn't know if he was hurt or relieved by Michelle's reaction.
She started laughing. That gave him an opening to try to save face.
"That isn't exactly what I meant."
"It's all right, Melvin, I know what you mean but she is your daughter," She was still chuckling as she wiped her eyes. "And I'm afraid that I was not very honest with you when we were together."
Frohike decided that at this point it would be best to shut up so that he would not say anything else truly ridiculous and let her explain.
"About four months before I met you, I decided I wanted a child. I hadn't ruled out love and marriage but conditions were right for me to get pregnant at that time. I was in excellent health. I had a nice little house with a big yard, good insurance, and enough money in the bank to take a few years off once the baby was born. If I needed more money, I could always work from home as a consultant. All that left was a sperm donor."
Seeing the look on Frohike's face at that comment, she reached across the table and took his leather gloved hand. She continued.
"I looked into sperm banks and was disenchanted with them. They supplied a fair amount of information about the donors but not what I really needed to know. There were physical descriptions and family medical histories but I wanted to know about the type of men they were. The old nature vs. nurture argument was never an issue for me. In my mind, both are important so I wanted to know the character of the father of my child."
Michelle looked down at his coffee cup. "Let me get you some more coffee. You look like you could use it." Pushing back the wrought iron chair, she walked up to the Seattle's Best Coffee counter. She had insisted that they meet in this place because she missed good Northwest coffee and Starbuck's didn't count. You could get that just about anywhere and it always tasted like it had been left in the roaster too long. SBC was far superior and this was one of the few places in DC where you could get it.
She came back to the table and set down the hot cup of coffee. None of the fancy lattes and mochas for Frohike. He was a coffee black, no sugar kind of guy but he had to agree, it was damn good coffee.
"Now where was I?"
"You wanted to know the character of your chosen sperm donor," Frohike offered.
"That's right. Then I met you." This was a story he already knew so she didn't elaborate. "After all the conversations we had I found that you had many of the qualities I was looking for: integrity, courage, ambition, loyalty, a strong sense of fairness and common sense.... I could go on but you are already blushing."
Frohike had thought that there wasn't anything that could make him blush at his age but then she'd always had that effect on him. He put his hand to his cheek but she pulled it away saying, "Don't. I still find it charming."
"So that's when you let me seduce you?" Frohike asked to shift the focus of the conversation.
She laughed at him again. "No. That's when I seduced you. You had just about every quality I was looking for. There was only one physical characteristic that I wished would have been different."
He began studying the tile patterns on the table top. "You would have wished that I was taller?"
This surprised Michelle. "No. As a matter of fact, that was what made me first approach you. I have always disliked being as tall as I am and I would not wish that on my daughter. It was the fact that we both need corrective lenses." Michelle wore contacts. "That would nearly guarantee that she would need them, too. She got her first pair of glasses earlier this year."
Frohike considered this statement. "What if you'd had a boy?"
It was Michelle's turn to look puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I have never liked being as short as I am," he clarified. "I have always hoped that if I had a son, that he would be taller than me."
"Oh, well, I knew I would have a girl."
"How could you be so sure?"
"There was never any question in my mind. My child would be a girl." He could tell that she was completely serious. If that's what she wanted, that's the way it would be. It had always amazed him that, for the most part, that was how her life worked. She knew what she wanted and that was what she got either through hard work and perseverance or maybe just being born under a lucky star.
Frohike looked down at the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He picked it up and took a drink. He had no idea what to say about all this. What could he say that would not sound offensive? He picked up the little girl's picture again and looked more closely at it. She resembled her mother more than anyone else but there were some qualities in her features that made him think of his mother. He set the picture back down and slid it across the table to Michelle. She left it on the table and continued to study his face. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
People continued their conversations around them eating scones and other baked goodies that go well with just about any type of coffee. A few children sat with their parents drinking juice or hot chocolate. Frohike studied some of them. He spotted one young girl that looked to be about his daughter's age.
His daughter.
He supposed that it was a good sign that he could at least think of her as his daughter.
The girl he had noticed looked nothing like.... he realized that Michelle hadn't mentioned the child's name.
He looked back at Michelle. She was still patiently waiting for him to speak.
"What's her name?"
Michelle seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Her name is Emma."
"Emma. That's nice." Then something occurred to Frohike. "Jane Austen, right?"
Michelle smiled, "Yes. I would have named her after Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice but I couldn't abide the thought that she could someday become a 'Betty'." She made a face that showed her opinion of the nickname. This made Frohike laugh which relieved the tension a little so he asked the question that was uppermost in his mind.
"Why have you chosen today to tell me all this?"
Michelle took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. She let the breath out slowly. Frohike remembered this habit. It meant that the other shoe was about to drop.
"Melvin, I'm dying." This time she did not look at him as she spoke.
"What!?!" He thought that he had shouted it but realized that it barely came out as a whisper.
"Please, don't make me say it again." Now her voice was nearly inaudible.
"I'm sorry. I heard you the first time. I just can't believe it." Now it was his turn to take her hand. "How long?"
"Not long, maybe two months."
"So, soon." It was a statement, not a question.
Michelle continued, not letting him ask more questions about her condition, "You know I have no close, living relatives. I have always been proud of my independence but now I'm afraid that my daughter will suffer because of it. She needs you but I can't really ask it of you. I just wanted you to know so that you could decide for yourself if you want to be a part of her life. There is one blood relative that is willing to be Emma's legal guardian but......" she let him fill in the rest for himself.
Michelle wiped her eyes, visibly willing herself not to cry. "This child is the world to me, Melvin. I only want what is best for her and I'm afraid I'm just not up to the job."
Frohike sat back in his chair; his mind was in turmoil. What kind of life could he offer a child and a girl child at that? He lived as a bachelor and had all of his adult life. This would change the way he lived, worked, socialized..........everything! How could he agree to this? How could he not agree to this?
Michelle could see evidence of his tortured thought processes on his face. She knew that what she'd told him was too much for anyone to try to come to grips with in such a short time. She reached down and picked her bag up off the floor. Out of it, she pulled a sealed envelope and handed it to him. "This is an invitation to my funeral. All the arrangements have been made. I don't want Emma to have to try to deal with any of this."
Frohike stared at the envelope dumbfounded. By his count that made three times today.
Michelle stood up collecting her belongings as she did. "It's been nice seeing you again. Think about what we talked about." She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, and one more thing. Thank you."
"For what," he asked.
"For Emma," was her reply.
With that she turned and left. He watched her weave her way through the tables, pass through the archway into the atrium beneath the dome, then out of sight. He continued to sit at the table. After a time his coffee stopped steaming, then grew quite cold. Still he sat, lost in thought. He turned the envelope over and over in his hands but did not break the seal. The picture of Emma lay on the table where Michelle had left it. He did not touch it but he kept looking at it. He noticed that she had turned the picture so that it was facing him.
He set the envelope down on top of the picture, stood up, pushed in his chair and walked away. He strode determinedly through the museum but did not go the way Michelle had. He went out the door that exited onto the Mall. He walked out into the middle of the grassy field. To his right was the Capital building. Off to his left was the Washington Monument and beyond that the Lincoln Memorial. He turned to face these two landmarks.
He stood that way for awhile, unmoving, inscrutable. Then he turned and walked back toward the Arts and Industries Museum. He walked faster. Then he started running. When he got to the entrance he almost rushed past the security checkpoint. "Hey, wait!" the guard shouted. Frohike stopped and showed that he was carrying neither weapons nor bombs. The guard kept a close eye on him even following him back toward the coffee counter leaving his partner to guard the door.
Fortunately, Frohike found the envelope and the photograph on the table where he had left them. He picked them both up and tucked them into the pocket of his leather jacket walking back towards the exit as he did so.
Takoma Park - after the funeral
Frohike rang the buzzer and waited for someone to let him in. Those locks where so much easier to open from the inside that they had all agreed to do this for each other ages ago. He wished they'd hurry up though. The suit was starting to get to him. The last time he had worn it was at Anna Haag's house when they had caught the Poisoner of Alsace. He leaned on the buzzer again and started to unknot the tie. He could at least get this off while he waited. Jimmy finally opened the door.
"What took you so long?" Frohike grumbled.
Jimmy stepped back to let Frohike in. Then Jimmy leaned out the door to look around. Seeing no one else there, he let go of the door to go up the stairs. He checked out in the alley, around his car and peered through the windows of the VW bus. Hmmmmm. He had been so sure. When he got back down the stairs he realized that he hadn't left the door ajar and would have to get someone to open it. "Oh, man!"
It was his turn to lean on the buzzer. Langly answered it this time and he wasn't too happy about it, "Look if you can't handle the door, don't go out!"
Jimmy barely heard Langly's complaining. He headed straight for Frohike.
"Where is she?" he asked.
Unbidden, Langly answered for Frohike, "He's not bringing her back here. This is no place for a kid."
"Langly, that is Frohike's decision to make, not yours," Byers pointed out.
"I still think he's going to do the right thing and take care of his daughter," Jimmy insisted.
Frohike just sighed. This same argument had been going on in some form or another since he finally told them about his meeting with Michelle. He had prowled around the warehouse for about a week doing nothing but snapping at them before Jimmy finally got him to tell them what was bothering him. He had said some harsh things to the big guy before he gave up and just told the three of them about Emma and the fact that her mother was dying.
Jimmy's reaction had been one of delight. "That is so cool! Well, not the part about her mom dying but the fact that you are a dad is great! You'll make an excellent dad! Look how you take care of all of us here. Hey, I know. I'll go get some cigars for you to pass around."
Langly's reaction had been the complete opposite, "Don't be so stupid! He can't be a father. He has other responsibilities. Besides a girl needs a mom. Living with a bunch of guys like us would be a mistake. She would cramp our style."
"I don't think we have a style to cramp," was Jimmy's honest reply.
Frohike decided he wasn't going to sit around and listen to it. He didn't usually participate because he hadn't made up his mind yet. He did have to agree with Byers though. It was his decision and his alone. He could not let the others influence him as to what he should do. He left them, still arguing, and went upstairs to change out of the suit which was now really getting to him. Byers insisted that his were very comfortable and had no problem wearing them all the time. Suits just reminded Frohike of who he was not or would ever be. That and unhappy events like today's. He attended more funerals than anything else. Let's see. How many of Mulder's had he been to? Three was it?
Byers watched Frohike climb the stairs to the living quarters. He sighed. He really felt for Frohike. He would hate to have to make that choice. He would want to do the right thing but Langly had a point. It would change everything. As things stood right now they could take off at a moments notice to follow a lead, go on a stake out, or do some 'funky poaching' as Mulder so delicately put it. He didn't even want to think about how many times they had been thrown in jail. Add to all of this the fact that the child was a girl...not that he sat around in his boxers but Langly seemed to think this was appropriate attire for breakfast and sometimes well into the day. None of them ever brought women back to the warehouse not that many such opportunities often came up but it was something to consider with a young girl around.
He supposed it could work out. There was space to build another room upstairs. It would make the 'living room' much smaller. They had set aside that area when they first moved in as a place where they could entertain 'polite' company. Byers had saved the nicer stuff from his old apartment: a Persian rug, a cherry end table, his stained glass floor lamp, and a few other pieces. They had found a decent love seat and a matching overstuffed chair. Byers had Frohike choose some of his best photos and got them framed.
Of course the room was rarely used for what is was meant. Junk began to collect in it. They would clean it out occasionally but most of the time they just shut the door and kept the lights off. When Jimmy moved in, he emptied it of all the accumulated files, newspapers, and stray electronics and tried to get the others to use the room as an area to sit around and 'rap'. Frohike declared this idea a load of crap so Jimmy asked if he could store and use his free weights there. Byers moved the lamp into his room and put some of the more breakable stuff into storage.
Byers was just considering the fact that a teenage girl would probably necessitate another bathroom when Langly and Jimmy ratcheted their argument up another notch. He went to get them to keep it down.
"It just won't work out," Langly was now nearly shouting.
"We won't know if we don't try," Jimmy insisted.
"Jimmy, a child isn't like a pair of shoes, you can't just return it if it doesn't fit," Byers was trying to be the voice of reason. "And if you really think about it, Langly, we probably could do it. We do have enough room and there are four of us here now. If we had to go out for a story, one of us could stay here with the girl." He left it unstated as to who that would be but Langly knew who he meant.
Jimmy brightened at this, "I could stay with her. I could help her with her homework and stuff."
Langly gave Byers a disgusted look. "Do you honestly think that Frohike would leave his kid alone with George of the Jungle here?"
"Isn't he the guy that always crashes into trees," Jimmy asked.
Langly ignored him. Byers was now the focus of his frustration. "If he brings that kid here to live, I'm moving out!"
"Don't worry. You won't have to move out," Frohike informed them. Once again they all jumped. For a man who usually wore combat boots, he had no problem sneaking up on them even when he wasn't trying to.
Langly was speechless at first. He hardly ever won arguments with these guys. "So, you're going to leave the kid with the other relative?"
"NO! You can't do it! Come on, Frohike. This is your own flesh and blood!" Jimmy was becoming more and more agitated.
Frohike put his hand on the taller man's shoulder to get him to stand in one place so that he would be certain to hear him. "Calm down, Jimmy, I didn't say that I was going to give her up."
"Oh, great!!" Langly threw his arms up in disgust.
"Everybody just calm down," Frohike insisted, "I didn't say that I was keeping her either. But if I do, I'll get my own place. It wouldn't be fair to all of you and this is no place to raise a kid."
"When do you need to let them know?" Byers asked.
"Michelle's lawyer told me to be at his office tomorrow at 9:00 AM."
"That soon."
"Yeah. I'm going out and I'm taking the van," With that Frohike left.
The Law Offices of Clarence Brown
Emma tried not to fidget in the leather upholstered chair. It was comfortable enough but her dress was new and kind of stiff. Her 'Auntie' Cordelia had bought it for her just for this 'special' occasion. Emma found it inappropriate to wear such a brightly colored outfit the day after her mother's funeral. Cordelia had insisted that she wear it and even did Emma's hair herself. Emma felt that she looked stupid but Cordelia claimed she was adorable.
She looked up at the ornate wooden clock on the wall. It had a swinging pendulum and weights on chains like a grandfather clock but it did not have the heavy wooden case. The pendulum and weights hung free. The clock read 8:55. He wasn't here yet. She knew Cordelia was anxious to get started but Mr. Brown refused to begin until precisely 9:00AM.
Emma wanted to get up and look out the window but she had already done that once. Cordelia had called to her to come back and sit down, "It won't be long now, Poppet. Just sit here like a nice little girl for a few more minutes. When this is all done, I'll take you out for ice cream." Emma hadn't said anything to that. She just sat still as she was bidden.
She studied the leather bound books that lined two of the walls. They were all legal reference books. She had tried to look at one to see if they had any pictures when she was younger but was gently reprimanded and given a hand full of books more appropriate to her age. She snuck another look at the clock. It now read 8:57. Three more minutes. Would he show up? Her apprehension grew.
The third wall in the room was occupied with extremely official looking diplomas, awards and certificates listing Mr. Brown's accomplishments. There were also photos of him with politicians and other famous people. Her favorite was the one of Mr. Brown with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. She had asked him about that one at once. He told her that it had been one of the most thrilling moments in his life.
8:58 AM. Emma could not remember time ever moving so slowly. When she was little and waiting to open birthday presents time could drag but this was torture.
She studied the photos on Mr. Brown's desk. There was a picture of his wife and family. She had met his sons and daughter only a few times but his wife was a wonderful woman. She was very kind to Emma and Michelle. She made them pralines every Christmas. Emma would give the couple crafty objects that she had made in return. Mrs. Brown proudly displayed them on her Christmas tree. Emma often imagined that Mrs. Brown was her grandmother but she never told anyone this not even her mother.
"It's 9:00 and high time we got started," Cordelia insisted.
Mr. Brown was unmoved, "We have one more minute."
One more minute. Emma started counting the seconds in her head. One one- thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand, and so on. When she got to sixteen one-thousand there were voices in the outer office.
"You can go right in. They are expecting you."
He had come. When he entered the room, Emma tried to stand to greet him as her mother had taught her but Cordelia grabbed her arm and pulled her back down into the chair. Frohike saw her drop in the chair but not the reason for it. Emma rubbed her arm and looked around her 'aunt' at her father. He had a puzzled expression on his face.
"Sit up, dear. Ladies don't stare," Cordelia said.
Mr. Brown greeted him, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Frohike. Please take a seat." Frohike sat in the chair on the other side of Cordelia, the one closest to the door. Cordelia had insisted that Emma sit in the chair by the window. Mr. Brown sat back down behind his big mahogany desk.
Mr. Brown opened a manila folder in front of him. He looked at the top page for a moment then crossed his hands on top of it. He turned to Frohike and said, "I'm afraid that I cannot commence with the reading of the will until we know your decision, Mr. Frohike."
It was now Frohike's turn to lean forward and peer around Cordelia. Why was Emma dressed like that? He had only met her once but from that one meeting and his long talk with Michelle, a yellow and blue ruffled dress seemed very out of character. Her long hair was in two braids, one by each ear. Each braid ended in a big, pale blue bow. It made her look like Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie. He suspected something fishy was afoot. He would have to check it out before he said anything.
"I would like to speak to Emma privately."
"NO! He is not leaving this room with her! I forbid it!" Cordelia nearly screeched. "We don't know anything about him. He could be a kidnapper or a child molester!!!"
Frohike had disliked this woman when he saw how she treated Emma at the funeral. Now his dislike had turned into full blown, seething hate. He started to say something he would probably have regretted when Mr. Brown interceded.
"You can have all the privacy you need in this room. If you step over by the window you will be able to talk unheard." The fourth wall of the office was taken up entirely by this window. Emma had spent a fair amount of time playing there when she was little. It was a bay window with a cushioned seat that ran all the way along the wall under the leaded glass panes. Emma had fallen asleep there in the sun on more than one occasion. There were heavy velvet curtains hanging on each side of the window and another set that could be pulled across the opening. These would effectively absorb soft spoken voices.
Frohike stood up and walked over to his daughter. He held out his hand to her. She was surprised at first to notice that he was wearing gloves with half of each finger cut off. She took his hand. At first the leather seemed impersonal but where his fingers were exposed, his skin was warm and reassuring.
She got up to follow him to the window.
"Don't be frightened, Poppet. Auntie Cordelia is right here and won't let the strange man hurt you." Emma did not even turn around and acknowledge her 'aunt's' statement.
Frohike guided Emma to sit on the window seat. He stood in front of her with his back to the room. "Before your mother came to me two months ago, I knew nothing about you."
"I found out about you at the same time."
He started to say something else but changed his mind. He felt like he was passing judgment on her standing over her like that so he sat down next to her on the seat. He took her hand again. "I need to know what you want. You are my daughter but if you would rather live with your aunt, I would not get in your way."
She turned slightly on the seat so that she was facing him. She struggled with what to say. What if he was just trying to be polite? What if he really just wanted to get rid of her? She didn't want to have to live with someone who didn't want her around. But he was asking and he seemed sincere. She really wished she had gotten to know him before this. Then she would have had some idea. Her mother had reassured her that Melvin Frohike was a good man.
"Emma, are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, I ..." She just couldn't find the right words.
Frohike could sense her uncertainty so he took another shot. "Are you close to your aunt?"
"She's not my aunt. She's actually a second cousin twice removed but since she's older than me she makes me call her 'Auntie'. She made me wear this outfit." She held out one of her braids and let it drop in disgust.
"You don't like these clothes?"
"No. I look like an idiot. I don't know if she thinks I'm a doll to play with or if she's trying to scare you." Emma couldn't believe that she was talking about an adult like this. Her mother would never have allowed it but she understood that at this point that it was important to let this man know how she truly felt.
"Scare me?"
"So you'll think I'm just a little kid."
"Tell me, Emma, what do you want?"
For the first time, Frohike saw tears in her eyes, "I want to be with you."
That was all he needed to hear. Obviously, there was no true affection between Emma and that woman. He stood up and keeping a hold of Emma's hand took two steps back into the room.
"I've made my decision. My daughter will come with me."
Cordelia started to whine loudly, "But Emma loves me. I took care of her when her mother died. I did everything for her. Tell them, Poppet!" She took a step toward them reaching out to Emma. Frohike stepped in front of Emma giving the woman a look that dared her to try to get through him to his daughter.
Mr. Brown once again broke through the tension with a well placed comment. "We discussed this possibility, Mrs. Harrison. Here is your settlement." He handed her an envelope. "Please have all of your belongings out of the house by noon." With that he pressed a button on his intercom. A stern looking security guard came in. "James will be more than happy to assist you with any heavy belongings you may have. Thank you for all your help."
James escorted 'Auntie' Cordelia from the room. Mr. Brown motioned for Frohike and Emma to take a seat telling them that he would be right back.
When the door closed, Emma turned to Frohike and said, "Dad, can I ask you a question?"
Frohike's pleased reaction at being called 'Dad' for the first time was quickly overshadowed by the thought that he might be able to impart some gem of wisdom on his daughter or maybe to give some fatherly advice. "Anything," was his reply.
"What on earth is a poppet?"
End Part One
By: MagsRose
Feedback: magsrose@comcast.net
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Frohike gets some shocking news from an old friend
Disclaimer: Well, you know who and you know what - used without permission, Seattle's Best
Coffee and Starbucks are registered trademarks and are also used without permission
Hall Bros. Funeral Home
Frohike stood in the back of the funeral home's chapel trying to be inconspicuous. He just wasn't ready to be seen. He had been determined to come even though Langly had told him he should just keep out of it. The deceased had been his lover for two short but memorable months all those years ago. And besides, how often do you get an invitation to such an occasion from the person for whom the funeral is being held?
He leaned forward a little trying to see past the rows of pews but everyone stood up at that moment and he was unable to spot what he was looking for. He stepped back into the shadows as the mourners filed out. The first group up and out the door, mostly professional types in expensive suits, did not notice Frohike in his dark corner. All of them solemnly filed past him without so much as a backward glance.
"Business associates," he told himself. These left immediately. Another group was a little more interested in his presence but did not speak to him. He was grateful. He was not yet prepared to explain his right to be in this place at this time. One woman gave him a longer look than the others. He ignored her.
These people milled around in the vestibule of the chapel speaking to one another in hushed tones. They were waiting for a sign that it is time to go to their cars for the long, wagon train journey to the cemetery.
He turned his attention to the front pew. There. That must be her. She sat unmoving facing the long, highly polished coffin. Alone. Very much alone. The funeral home attendants stood back out of her field of vision waiting for a sign that she was ready for them to wheel the coffin out. Frohike took a deep breath, adjusted the tie that Byers had lent him, and walked up the center aisle. He paused at the entrance of the pew just behind her. She heard him and turned her head slightly but not far enough to see him. He paused unsure how to proceed.
Several weeks earlier - Takoma Park
"Lone Gunmen Group, Byers speaking."
"I would like to speak to Melvin Frohike."
"He's right here." Byers covered the receiver with his hand. "Frohike, it's for you."
"Who is it?" Frohike asked without looking up from fine tuning his column.
"May I ask who is calling?"
The woman laughed and said, "Tell him that it's the bean stalk."
Looking puzzled, Byers relayed the information. For a moment Frohike just stared at him. "What did you say?"
Dutifully Byers repeated what the woman had said. Frohike finally got up. "I'll get it upstairs," was Frohike's reply. He took the stairs two at a time. Although he was tempted to listen, Byers hung up the phone when he heard Frohike pick up the receiver.
"What was that all about?" Langly had become interested when he heard the bean stalk comment.
"I don't know." Byers tried to go back to the layout he was working on when the phone rang but Langly kept hovering by the phone. "If you pick it up he'll hear you."
"Come on, man, don't you want to know?"
"Not really," Byers lied. He didn't do it often but he knew if he gave in even a bit Langly would not let up.
Langly poked at the phone for a while then began to move nonchalantly towards the stairs. "You need to give him a little space," Byers warned.
"But I'm hungry!"
"Jimmy went grocery shopping. There's not much left up there. Just wait until he gets back and leave Frohike alone."
"C'mon, Byers, I'll just take a quick peek. He won't even know I'm up there."
"Yes, he will. He doesn't miss much."
"No, I don't." Both men jumped. Frohike had returned while they were arguing.
Langly started right in. "Who was that?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Byers said it was a woman."
"That's none of your business, Punk."
"Okay, fine, don't tell me. I don't know why I even bothered to ask!!"
Langly stomped off up the stairs mumbling under his breath that if everyone wanted to keep him in the dark he would just go get something to eat and that a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich was his only true friend anyway and there better damn well be some bread left. Byers looked at Frohike. He took a breath to say something but then thought the better of it. When Frohike wanted to talk he would.
Two days later, Frohike stood outside the Smithsonian Arts and Industries building. He was early. He had taken the Metro train from Takoma Park. There was an underground stop less than two blocks from where he now waited. He could have asked one of the guys to drive him but he wanted to see what Michelle wanted before his friends found out about her. Besides who would want to drive into DC unless they absolutely had to.
The building to his left was called 'The Castle' but this one looked the part also. Both Smithsonian buildings were wonderfully detailed brick structures with stained glass windows. He supposed this one looked more like a church than it's neighbor. The Castle had flag topped turrets and towers although the illusion was rather tainted by the scaffolding covering nearly a third of its exterior.
Frohike bided his time by getting acquainted with Spencer Fullerton Baird, 1823 - 1887. His statue guarded the front entrance. The inscription on the base stated that he was the second secretary of the Smithsonian Institution and that he was a pioneer in American Natural History.
"The man was either very tall and liked to wear skirts under his suit coat or the artist suffered from a surplus of bronze," a familiar female voice said from behind him. Frohike turned around and looked up into the face of his former lover. She had shoulder length, dark auburn hair and green eyes. Dressed in a tailored business suit she looked like she had just come from the office to meet him. She was even taller than he remembered. She bent down to hug him.
"How have you been, Melvin?"
"I've been good. What about you?"
"Until recently, very good but let's go inside and sit down because that's what I need to talk to you about."
Halls Bros Funeral Home
The young girl, not quite 12, turned her head farther and looked up at him. That released Frohike from his paralysis and he came around to stand in front of her. She said nothing but didn't take her eyes off him. He introduced himself, "My name is Melvin Frohike. I'm very sorry about your mother."
The girl's eyes widen ever so slightly when he said his name. "She told me you would be here." She spoke softly but without hesitation. She stood up and held out her hand. "My name is Emma MacKenzie. I'm pleased to meet you."
Frohike took her offered hand in both of his. She didn't have her mother's height but at 11 she would still be growing. She had long, brown hair that was French braided on both sides of her head and met in one braid that hung down to nearly her waist. Her eyes were green but they were not reddened from crying as he had expected. Maybe her glasses hid it. He began to speak but was interrupted by a loud voice from the back of the chapel.
"Poppet!" It was the woman who had taken a good look at him earlier. Emma flinched at the sound of the woman's voice and held on a little tighter to Frohike's hand. "We need to let these nice men do their job and everyone is waiting for you so that we can go to the cemetery. We do need to go. The weather looks like it's going to turn on us and I don't want you out in the wet and the cold...." She continued talking in this manner as she advanced on them.
"Come, Poppet, we really must be going. Thank the strange, little man for coming and let's be on our way."
Emma reluctantly released Frohike's hands allowing the woman to lead her away. At this point an older, distinguished looking black man came up a side aisle and introduced himself.
"My name is Clarence Brown. I believe you spoke with the deceased Miss MacKenzie a number of weeks ago." When Frohike said that he had, Mr. Brown handed him a business card. "Please be at this address tomorrow by 9:00 AM to give us your decision." The card listed an address for a lawyer's office in Georgetown.
Frohike looked from the card in his hand back to the entrance to the chapel just in time to see Emma glance back at him before she was nearly pushed out of the funeral home by the woman who had taken charge of her in her mother's absence.
The Smithsonian Museum of Arts and Industry - several weeks earlier
Frohike looked up from the picture of a smiling 11 year old wearing a black watch plaid jumper that had to be a private school uniform. She had a band of freckles that marched determinedly across her nose. He asked the question most men do when they find themselves in this situation, "But how did this happen?" He immediately regretted it. It was just such a stupid question. He knew it when it formed in his brain but he was so taken aback by the information that couldn't keep the words from tripping out of his mouth. He didn't know if he was hurt or relieved by Michelle's reaction.
She started laughing. That gave him an opening to try to save face.
"That isn't exactly what I meant."
"It's all right, Melvin, I know what you mean but she is your daughter," She was still chuckling as she wiped her eyes. "And I'm afraid that I was not very honest with you when we were together."
Frohike decided that at this point it would be best to shut up so that he would not say anything else truly ridiculous and let her explain.
"About four months before I met you, I decided I wanted a child. I hadn't ruled out love and marriage but conditions were right for me to get pregnant at that time. I was in excellent health. I had a nice little house with a big yard, good insurance, and enough money in the bank to take a few years off once the baby was born. If I needed more money, I could always work from home as a consultant. All that left was a sperm donor."
Seeing the look on Frohike's face at that comment, she reached across the table and took his leather gloved hand. She continued.
"I looked into sperm banks and was disenchanted with them. They supplied a fair amount of information about the donors but not what I really needed to know. There were physical descriptions and family medical histories but I wanted to know about the type of men they were. The old nature vs. nurture argument was never an issue for me. In my mind, both are important so I wanted to know the character of the father of my child."
Michelle looked down at his coffee cup. "Let me get you some more coffee. You look like you could use it." Pushing back the wrought iron chair, she walked up to the Seattle's Best Coffee counter. She had insisted that they meet in this place because she missed good Northwest coffee and Starbuck's didn't count. You could get that just about anywhere and it always tasted like it had been left in the roaster too long. SBC was far superior and this was one of the few places in DC where you could get it.
She came back to the table and set down the hot cup of coffee. None of the fancy lattes and mochas for Frohike. He was a coffee black, no sugar kind of guy but he had to agree, it was damn good coffee.
"Now where was I?"
"You wanted to know the character of your chosen sperm donor," Frohike offered.
"That's right. Then I met you." This was a story he already knew so she didn't elaborate. "After all the conversations we had I found that you had many of the qualities I was looking for: integrity, courage, ambition, loyalty, a strong sense of fairness and common sense.... I could go on but you are already blushing."
Frohike had thought that there wasn't anything that could make him blush at his age but then she'd always had that effect on him. He put his hand to his cheek but she pulled it away saying, "Don't. I still find it charming."
"So that's when you let me seduce you?" Frohike asked to shift the focus of the conversation.
She laughed at him again. "No. That's when I seduced you. You had just about every quality I was looking for. There was only one physical characteristic that I wished would have been different."
He began studying the tile patterns on the table top. "You would have wished that I was taller?"
This surprised Michelle. "No. As a matter of fact, that was what made me first approach you. I have always disliked being as tall as I am and I would not wish that on my daughter. It was the fact that we both need corrective lenses." Michelle wore contacts. "That would nearly guarantee that she would need them, too. She got her first pair of glasses earlier this year."
Frohike considered this statement. "What if you'd had a boy?"
It was Michelle's turn to look puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I have never liked being as short as I am," he clarified. "I have always hoped that if I had a son, that he would be taller than me."
"Oh, well, I knew I would have a girl."
"How could you be so sure?"
"There was never any question in my mind. My child would be a girl." He could tell that she was completely serious. If that's what she wanted, that's the way it would be. It had always amazed him that, for the most part, that was how her life worked. She knew what she wanted and that was what she got either through hard work and perseverance or maybe just being born under a lucky star.
Frohike looked down at the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He picked it up and took a drink. He had no idea what to say about all this. What could he say that would not sound offensive? He picked up the little girl's picture again and looked more closely at it. She resembled her mother more than anyone else but there were some qualities in her features that made him think of his mother. He set the picture back down and slid it across the table to Michelle. She left it on the table and continued to study his face. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
People continued their conversations around them eating scones and other baked goodies that go well with just about any type of coffee. A few children sat with their parents drinking juice or hot chocolate. Frohike studied some of them. He spotted one young girl that looked to be about his daughter's age.
His daughter.
He supposed that it was a good sign that he could at least think of her as his daughter.
The girl he had noticed looked nothing like.... he realized that Michelle hadn't mentioned the child's name.
He looked back at Michelle. She was still patiently waiting for him to speak.
"What's her name?"
Michelle seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Her name is Emma."
"Emma. That's nice." Then something occurred to Frohike. "Jane Austen, right?"
Michelle smiled, "Yes. I would have named her after Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice but I couldn't abide the thought that she could someday become a 'Betty'." She made a face that showed her opinion of the nickname. This made Frohike laugh which relieved the tension a little so he asked the question that was uppermost in his mind.
"Why have you chosen today to tell me all this?"
Michelle took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. She let the breath out slowly. Frohike remembered this habit. It meant that the other shoe was about to drop.
"Melvin, I'm dying." This time she did not look at him as she spoke.
"What!?!" He thought that he had shouted it but realized that it barely came out as a whisper.
"Please, don't make me say it again." Now her voice was nearly inaudible.
"I'm sorry. I heard you the first time. I just can't believe it." Now it was his turn to take her hand. "How long?"
"Not long, maybe two months."
"So, soon." It was a statement, not a question.
Michelle continued, not letting him ask more questions about her condition, "You know I have no close, living relatives. I have always been proud of my independence but now I'm afraid that my daughter will suffer because of it. She needs you but I can't really ask it of you. I just wanted you to know so that you could decide for yourself if you want to be a part of her life. There is one blood relative that is willing to be Emma's legal guardian but......" she let him fill in the rest for himself.
Michelle wiped her eyes, visibly willing herself not to cry. "This child is the world to me, Melvin. I only want what is best for her and I'm afraid I'm just not up to the job."
Frohike sat back in his chair; his mind was in turmoil. What kind of life could he offer a child and a girl child at that? He lived as a bachelor and had all of his adult life. This would change the way he lived, worked, socialized..........everything! How could he agree to this? How could he not agree to this?
Michelle could see evidence of his tortured thought processes on his face. She knew that what she'd told him was too much for anyone to try to come to grips with in such a short time. She reached down and picked her bag up off the floor. Out of it, she pulled a sealed envelope and handed it to him. "This is an invitation to my funeral. All the arrangements have been made. I don't want Emma to have to try to deal with any of this."
Frohike stared at the envelope dumbfounded. By his count that made three times today.
Michelle stood up collecting her belongings as she did. "It's been nice seeing you again. Think about what we talked about." She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, and one more thing. Thank you."
"For what," he asked.
"For Emma," was her reply.
With that she turned and left. He watched her weave her way through the tables, pass through the archway into the atrium beneath the dome, then out of sight. He continued to sit at the table. After a time his coffee stopped steaming, then grew quite cold. Still he sat, lost in thought. He turned the envelope over and over in his hands but did not break the seal. The picture of Emma lay on the table where Michelle had left it. He did not touch it but he kept looking at it. He noticed that she had turned the picture so that it was facing him.
He set the envelope down on top of the picture, stood up, pushed in his chair and walked away. He strode determinedly through the museum but did not go the way Michelle had. He went out the door that exited onto the Mall. He walked out into the middle of the grassy field. To his right was the Capital building. Off to his left was the Washington Monument and beyond that the Lincoln Memorial. He turned to face these two landmarks.
He stood that way for awhile, unmoving, inscrutable. Then he turned and walked back toward the Arts and Industries Museum. He walked faster. Then he started running. When he got to the entrance he almost rushed past the security checkpoint. "Hey, wait!" the guard shouted. Frohike stopped and showed that he was carrying neither weapons nor bombs. The guard kept a close eye on him even following him back toward the coffee counter leaving his partner to guard the door.
Fortunately, Frohike found the envelope and the photograph on the table where he had left them. He picked them both up and tucked them into the pocket of his leather jacket walking back towards the exit as he did so.
Takoma Park - after the funeral
Frohike rang the buzzer and waited for someone to let him in. Those locks where so much easier to open from the inside that they had all agreed to do this for each other ages ago. He wished they'd hurry up though. The suit was starting to get to him. The last time he had worn it was at Anna Haag's house when they had caught the Poisoner of Alsace. He leaned on the buzzer again and started to unknot the tie. He could at least get this off while he waited. Jimmy finally opened the door.
"What took you so long?" Frohike grumbled.
Jimmy stepped back to let Frohike in. Then Jimmy leaned out the door to look around. Seeing no one else there, he let go of the door to go up the stairs. He checked out in the alley, around his car and peered through the windows of the VW bus. Hmmmmm. He had been so sure. When he got back down the stairs he realized that he hadn't left the door ajar and would have to get someone to open it. "Oh, man!"
It was his turn to lean on the buzzer. Langly answered it this time and he wasn't too happy about it, "Look if you can't handle the door, don't go out!"
Jimmy barely heard Langly's complaining. He headed straight for Frohike.
"Where is she?" he asked.
Unbidden, Langly answered for Frohike, "He's not bringing her back here. This is no place for a kid."
"Langly, that is Frohike's decision to make, not yours," Byers pointed out.
"I still think he's going to do the right thing and take care of his daughter," Jimmy insisted.
Frohike just sighed. This same argument had been going on in some form or another since he finally told them about his meeting with Michelle. He had prowled around the warehouse for about a week doing nothing but snapping at them before Jimmy finally got him to tell them what was bothering him. He had said some harsh things to the big guy before he gave up and just told the three of them about Emma and the fact that her mother was dying.
Jimmy's reaction had been one of delight. "That is so cool! Well, not the part about her mom dying but the fact that you are a dad is great! You'll make an excellent dad! Look how you take care of all of us here. Hey, I know. I'll go get some cigars for you to pass around."
Langly's reaction had been the complete opposite, "Don't be so stupid! He can't be a father. He has other responsibilities. Besides a girl needs a mom. Living with a bunch of guys like us would be a mistake. She would cramp our style."
"I don't think we have a style to cramp," was Jimmy's honest reply.
Frohike decided he wasn't going to sit around and listen to it. He didn't usually participate because he hadn't made up his mind yet. He did have to agree with Byers though. It was his decision and his alone. He could not let the others influence him as to what he should do. He left them, still arguing, and went upstairs to change out of the suit which was now really getting to him. Byers insisted that his were very comfortable and had no problem wearing them all the time. Suits just reminded Frohike of who he was not or would ever be. That and unhappy events like today's. He attended more funerals than anything else. Let's see. How many of Mulder's had he been to? Three was it?
Byers watched Frohike climb the stairs to the living quarters. He sighed. He really felt for Frohike. He would hate to have to make that choice. He would want to do the right thing but Langly had a point. It would change everything. As things stood right now they could take off at a moments notice to follow a lead, go on a stake out, or do some 'funky poaching' as Mulder so delicately put it. He didn't even want to think about how many times they had been thrown in jail. Add to all of this the fact that the child was a girl...not that he sat around in his boxers but Langly seemed to think this was appropriate attire for breakfast and sometimes well into the day. None of them ever brought women back to the warehouse not that many such opportunities often came up but it was something to consider with a young girl around.
He supposed it could work out. There was space to build another room upstairs. It would make the 'living room' much smaller. They had set aside that area when they first moved in as a place where they could entertain 'polite' company. Byers had saved the nicer stuff from his old apartment: a Persian rug, a cherry end table, his stained glass floor lamp, and a few other pieces. They had found a decent love seat and a matching overstuffed chair. Byers had Frohike choose some of his best photos and got them framed.
Of course the room was rarely used for what is was meant. Junk began to collect in it. They would clean it out occasionally but most of the time they just shut the door and kept the lights off. When Jimmy moved in, he emptied it of all the accumulated files, newspapers, and stray electronics and tried to get the others to use the room as an area to sit around and 'rap'. Frohike declared this idea a load of crap so Jimmy asked if he could store and use his free weights there. Byers moved the lamp into his room and put some of the more breakable stuff into storage.
Byers was just considering the fact that a teenage girl would probably necessitate another bathroom when Langly and Jimmy ratcheted their argument up another notch. He went to get them to keep it down.
"It just won't work out," Langly was now nearly shouting.
"We won't know if we don't try," Jimmy insisted.
"Jimmy, a child isn't like a pair of shoes, you can't just return it if it doesn't fit," Byers was trying to be the voice of reason. "And if you really think about it, Langly, we probably could do it. We do have enough room and there are four of us here now. If we had to go out for a story, one of us could stay here with the girl." He left it unstated as to who that would be but Langly knew who he meant.
Jimmy brightened at this, "I could stay with her. I could help her with her homework and stuff."
Langly gave Byers a disgusted look. "Do you honestly think that Frohike would leave his kid alone with George of the Jungle here?"
"Isn't he the guy that always crashes into trees," Jimmy asked.
Langly ignored him. Byers was now the focus of his frustration. "If he brings that kid here to live, I'm moving out!"
"Don't worry. You won't have to move out," Frohike informed them. Once again they all jumped. For a man who usually wore combat boots, he had no problem sneaking up on them even when he wasn't trying to.
Langly was speechless at first. He hardly ever won arguments with these guys. "So, you're going to leave the kid with the other relative?"
"NO! You can't do it! Come on, Frohike. This is your own flesh and blood!" Jimmy was becoming more and more agitated.
Frohike put his hand on the taller man's shoulder to get him to stand in one place so that he would be certain to hear him. "Calm down, Jimmy, I didn't say that I was going to give her up."
"Oh, great!!" Langly threw his arms up in disgust.
"Everybody just calm down," Frohike insisted, "I didn't say that I was keeping her either. But if I do, I'll get my own place. It wouldn't be fair to all of you and this is no place to raise a kid."
"When do you need to let them know?" Byers asked.
"Michelle's lawyer told me to be at his office tomorrow at 9:00 AM."
"That soon."
"Yeah. I'm going out and I'm taking the van," With that Frohike left.
The Law Offices of Clarence Brown
Emma tried not to fidget in the leather upholstered chair. It was comfortable enough but her dress was new and kind of stiff. Her 'Auntie' Cordelia had bought it for her just for this 'special' occasion. Emma found it inappropriate to wear such a brightly colored outfit the day after her mother's funeral. Cordelia had insisted that she wear it and even did Emma's hair herself. Emma felt that she looked stupid but Cordelia claimed she was adorable.
She looked up at the ornate wooden clock on the wall. It had a swinging pendulum and weights on chains like a grandfather clock but it did not have the heavy wooden case. The pendulum and weights hung free. The clock read 8:55. He wasn't here yet. She knew Cordelia was anxious to get started but Mr. Brown refused to begin until precisely 9:00AM.
Emma wanted to get up and look out the window but she had already done that once. Cordelia had called to her to come back and sit down, "It won't be long now, Poppet. Just sit here like a nice little girl for a few more minutes. When this is all done, I'll take you out for ice cream." Emma hadn't said anything to that. She just sat still as she was bidden.
She studied the leather bound books that lined two of the walls. They were all legal reference books. She had tried to look at one to see if they had any pictures when she was younger but was gently reprimanded and given a hand full of books more appropriate to her age. She snuck another look at the clock. It now read 8:57. Three more minutes. Would he show up? Her apprehension grew.
The third wall in the room was occupied with extremely official looking diplomas, awards and certificates listing Mr. Brown's accomplishments. There were also photos of him with politicians and other famous people. Her favorite was the one of Mr. Brown with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. She had asked him about that one at once. He told her that it had been one of the most thrilling moments in his life.
8:58 AM. Emma could not remember time ever moving so slowly. When she was little and waiting to open birthday presents time could drag but this was torture.
She studied the photos on Mr. Brown's desk. There was a picture of his wife and family. She had met his sons and daughter only a few times but his wife was a wonderful woman. She was very kind to Emma and Michelle. She made them pralines every Christmas. Emma would give the couple crafty objects that she had made in return. Mrs. Brown proudly displayed them on her Christmas tree. Emma often imagined that Mrs. Brown was her grandmother but she never told anyone this not even her mother.
"It's 9:00 and high time we got started," Cordelia insisted.
Mr. Brown was unmoved, "We have one more minute."
One more minute. Emma started counting the seconds in her head. One one- thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand, and so on. When she got to sixteen one-thousand there were voices in the outer office.
"You can go right in. They are expecting you."
He had come. When he entered the room, Emma tried to stand to greet him as her mother had taught her but Cordelia grabbed her arm and pulled her back down into the chair. Frohike saw her drop in the chair but not the reason for it. Emma rubbed her arm and looked around her 'aunt' at her father. He had a puzzled expression on his face.
"Sit up, dear. Ladies don't stare," Cordelia said.
Mr. Brown greeted him, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Frohike. Please take a seat." Frohike sat in the chair on the other side of Cordelia, the one closest to the door. Cordelia had insisted that Emma sit in the chair by the window. Mr. Brown sat back down behind his big mahogany desk.
Mr. Brown opened a manila folder in front of him. He looked at the top page for a moment then crossed his hands on top of it. He turned to Frohike and said, "I'm afraid that I cannot commence with the reading of the will until we know your decision, Mr. Frohike."
It was now Frohike's turn to lean forward and peer around Cordelia. Why was Emma dressed like that? He had only met her once but from that one meeting and his long talk with Michelle, a yellow and blue ruffled dress seemed very out of character. Her long hair was in two braids, one by each ear. Each braid ended in a big, pale blue bow. It made her look like Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie. He suspected something fishy was afoot. He would have to check it out before he said anything.
"I would like to speak to Emma privately."
"NO! He is not leaving this room with her! I forbid it!" Cordelia nearly screeched. "We don't know anything about him. He could be a kidnapper or a child molester!!!"
Frohike had disliked this woman when he saw how she treated Emma at the funeral. Now his dislike had turned into full blown, seething hate. He started to say something he would probably have regretted when Mr. Brown interceded.
"You can have all the privacy you need in this room. If you step over by the window you will be able to talk unheard." The fourth wall of the office was taken up entirely by this window. Emma had spent a fair amount of time playing there when she was little. It was a bay window with a cushioned seat that ran all the way along the wall under the leaded glass panes. Emma had fallen asleep there in the sun on more than one occasion. There were heavy velvet curtains hanging on each side of the window and another set that could be pulled across the opening. These would effectively absorb soft spoken voices.
Frohike stood up and walked over to his daughter. He held out his hand to her. She was surprised at first to notice that he was wearing gloves with half of each finger cut off. She took his hand. At first the leather seemed impersonal but where his fingers were exposed, his skin was warm and reassuring.
She got up to follow him to the window.
"Don't be frightened, Poppet. Auntie Cordelia is right here and won't let the strange man hurt you." Emma did not even turn around and acknowledge her 'aunt's' statement.
Frohike guided Emma to sit on the window seat. He stood in front of her with his back to the room. "Before your mother came to me two months ago, I knew nothing about you."
"I found out about you at the same time."
He started to say something else but changed his mind. He felt like he was passing judgment on her standing over her like that so he sat down next to her on the seat. He took her hand again. "I need to know what you want. You are my daughter but if you would rather live with your aunt, I would not get in your way."
She turned slightly on the seat so that she was facing him. She struggled with what to say. What if he was just trying to be polite? What if he really just wanted to get rid of her? She didn't want to have to live with someone who didn't want her around. But he was asking and he seemed sincere. She really wished she had gotten to know him before this. Then she would have had some idea. Her mother had reassured her that Melvin Frohike was a good man.
"Emma, are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, I ..." She just couldn't find the right words.
Frohike could sense her uncertainty so he took another shot. "Are you close to your aunt?"
"She's not my aunt. She's actually a second cousin twice removed but since she's older than me she makes me call her 'Auntie'. She made me wear this outfit." She held out one of her braids and let it drop in disgust.
"You don't like these clothes?"
"No. I look like an idiot. I don't know if she thinks I'm a doll to play with or if she's trying to scare you." Emma couldn't believe that she was talking about an adult like this. Her mother would never have allowed it but she understood that at this point that it was important to let this man know how she truly felt.
"Scare me?"
"So you'll think I'm just a little kid."
"Tell me, Emma, what do you want?"
For the first time, Frohike saw tears in her eyes, "I want to be with you."
That was all he needed to hear. Obviously, there was no true affection between Emma and that woman. He stood up and keeping a hold of Emma's hand took two steps back into the room.
"I've made my decision. My daughter will come with me."
Cordelia started to whine loudly, "But Emma loves me. I took care of her when her mother died. I did everything for her. Tell them, Poppet!" She took a step toward them reaching out to Emma. Frohike stepped in front of Emma giving the woman a look that dared her to try to get through him to his daughter.
Mr. Brown once again broke through the tension with a well placed comment. "We discussed this possibility, Mrs. Harrison. Here is your settlement." He handed her an envelope. "Please have all of your belongings out of the house by noon." With that he pressed a button on his intercom. A stern looking security guard came in. "James will be more than happy to assist you with any heavy belongings you may have. Thank you for all your help."
James escorted 'Auntie' Cordelia from the room. Mr. Brown motioned for Frohike and Emma to take a seat telling them that he would be right back.
When the door closed, Emma turned to Frohike and said, "Dad, can I ask you a question?"
Frohike's pleased reaction at being called 'Dad' for the first time was quickly overshadowed by the thought that he might be able to impart some gem of wisdom on his daughter or maybe to give some fatherly advice. "Anything," was his reply.
"What on earth is a poppet?"
End Part One