A/N: All right, a brief chapter here, but I really couldn't combine this and the next chapter into a single one as they'd be too long. BUT! In time for Valentine's Day, I'm posting TWO chapters, so hopefully that will make the three or four people following this fic happy ;) Thanks to those who reviewed, I appreciate it! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Same as always.
Sunday afternoon, as Aunt Emmaline worked on her knitting in the parlour while humming along with the Temptations, Kevin dialed the number to his father's office.
This time, as he expected, it was not Tracey who picked up the phone, but John himself, on the first ring. "Ellis, Lowenstein and MacIntyre Accounting," his father's voice came through the line, and Kevin was struck by how defeated it sounded.
"Dad."
"Kevin," John cleared his throat, perhaps to regain his composure. "How are you?"
"I'm all right," Kevin answered, taking a seat. "Getting used to the heat and stuff."
"Oh." This phone conversation would be awkward, as the others had been, but for once, Kevin didn't care.
"Look," Kevin sighed, and propped his elbows down on the counter. "I just called to apologize. For the other day, when I pretty much just called you to cuss you out. I know that it's as tough for you as for me right now."
"Oh." This time, the monosyllable held surprise, perhaps a bit of shame. "You lashed out, that's normal for your age, I guess. I'm sorry too. I've not been there for you, and I should have been."
Kevin shrugged, though his father couldn't see it. "We both could've done better, probably. But you don't take it out on me, so I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He recalled Mina's soft words, the sadness in her eyes when she'd spoken them. "Hey, just remember that there are still people who care, okay?"
For a few moments, the line was completely silent, and Kevin wondered if John had hung up. And then, with a long sigh, his father spoke again. "That sounds like something your mother would've said if she caught either of us in a funk."
Kevin almost smiled at that, and the mention still hurt, but it wasn't as bad as before, somehow. "Probably. Hey, you should go on home, take it easy. It's a Sunday for godsakes, and you're at the office."
"There's not too much to do at the crib," John said wryly.
"Probably a crap-ton of laundry and dirty dishes at this point," Kevin jibed, and his father actually laughed.
"Well, there is that," John mused. "I guess I could head out once I finish going over this one account."
"Yeah, you do that," Kevin said, and remembered something else. "Oh, hey, dad? Could you do me a favour?"
"Sure, what?"
"In my desk, bottom drawer, there's a wooden box about the size of a deck of cards. Could you Fed-Ex it here?"
"Sure thing," John answered. "Anything else?"
"No," Kevin said. "Don't work too hard."
He hung up the phone and belatedly noticed that the sounds of music had stopped. Emmaline was still seated, placidly working on her knitting, though she looked up with a smile when he entered. "Hello, dear," she greeted him.
"Hey, Auntie. Are you sure you're okay with me borrowing the car tonight?"
"Oh, of course," Emmaline's smile grew. "You're a good boy, Kevin. I'm sure you won't be out drinking alcohol and being a young hoodlum or anything so disappointing."
The idea of young alcoholic hoodlums in her pretty, peaceful neighbourhood was almost laughable. "I won't be back too late. I'm just going to see a movie."
"How nice," Emmaline patted his hand as he sat down next to her. "You just go and have a good time with Mina, dear. She's such a sweet girl, and so pretty, isn't she?"
Kevin admitted that she was, indeed, while wondering how Emmaline knew that they had a date. He was fairly sure that when he asked to borrow the car earlier that day, he'd made no mention of it.
"You should wear that light blue button-down shirt, since you look so handsome in it," Emmaline declared. "Do you know how to iron, dear?"
No, he didn't, but he had a feeling that he was going to learn, like he'd learnt to mow a lawn, or make scrambled eggs, or cope with his grief. Reaching over, he gave the plump, smiling little old lady a quick hug before going to fetch the ironing board.
***
Two hours later found him on the porch of the Harmon household, in his newly pressed shirt, staring up with not a little trepidation into the face of an enormous, unsmiling black man with a shaven head and arms like Christmas hams crossed over a barrel chest. There was a tattoo of an anchor over one enormous bicep. William Harmon, Sr., surveyed him through piercing black eyes, and it was all Kevin could do to meet his eyes.
"You'd be here for Mina, I assume," the man's voice was deep and measured.
Kevin nodded, and hoped that the seven-foot ex-Marine didn't have any guns close by. "Yes, sir. I'm Kevin. Kevin Ellis."
"Hmm." Willie didn't step back to let him in, and continued to pin him with the x-ray-like scrutiny. An odd memory of his sensei's words in the dojo floated back to him. Don't lower your eyes to an opponent before a match, not even when you bow. Kevin kept his head up and held Willie's gaze. Suddenly, Willie's face broke out in a wide grin that looked just like Miss Penelope's, and held out a hand for Kevin to shake. "I do know who you are, boy. My kids won't stop talking about you."
Kevin wondered if those 'kids' included Mina, but decided not to ask. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
Willie's handshake was firm, not bruising in the way that Kevin had almost feared, and he used it to pull Kevin into the house. "Come on in, then. Mina will be right down. Just take a seat, and tell me a bit about yourself."
Some of his trepidation must have shown on his face despite his best efforts, because Willie let out a deep, booming laugh. "And don't look so nervous! I don't keep my guns in the house where my kids can get to them."
