Chapter Twenty Seven:
Desperate

two of two chapters uploaded 7/27



Three Days Before Theresa's Wedding

Ethan stuffed a few more of his clothes in the box and then folded the cardboard lid. "Hand me that tape, EJ." He looked at his son. EJ sighed and handed his father a large roll of packing tape, and watched sullenly as his father sealed the carton.

"Why are you packing now? You're not leaving until Mom and Jared come home from their honeymoon, right?" He asked, his voice one part shaky, one part defiant.

"That's right, EJ, but I want to get most of my stuff out of the way. I'm going to take these boxes over to my new apartment tomorrow. I just need the basics here for the next couple of weeks." He carried the box across the room, setting it with the others.

"I hate your apartment." EJ grumbled under his breath, but Ethan heard him.

"EJ, it's only temporary. I don't have the time or energy for a big house hunt right now. The apartment will be OK for a few months, then we'll go together to find something with a nice backyard for you and your sisters to play in when you stay with me. Besides, it's not bad, as apartments go. You'll even have your own room there." Ethan tried to smile, ruffling his son's hair. The frown on the boy's face told him that the kid wasn't buying it.

"This sucks." EJ said after a moment, kicking the dresser with his tennis shoe clad feet. "I'm only going to get to see you on weekends. Jane will get to see you even less, because she has to split all her time between Mom, and Gwen, and you."

"I know, EJ, and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make the best of this that I can. And you know your mom says that we can see each other whenever we want. You don't have to wait until the weekend...I'll come see you, we'll hang out. And if you ever need me, I'm just a phone call away. You won't forget that, right?"

EJ's eyes filled with tears. "You should be marrying Mom, not Jared." The seven year sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, obviously embarrassed at being reduced to tears. Ethan let out a deep breath and sat next to his son on the bed. He knew he should say all the right words, tell EJ that everything would be fine, that maybe some things weren't meant to be, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. So they sat there, the two of them, in silence...like father, like son.

Later that night Ethan laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. EJ had gone to bed hours ago, and he'd been laying there, trying to make himself sleep, willing his mind to be blank, and it wasn't working. He kept seeing it all, playing over and over again in his mind. He saw the pictures, like tiny movies, on the back of his eyelids when he closed his eyes. The first day he'd met Theresa...the Christmas Eve that he'd proposed to her...when he'd stopped their wedding...

And when he opened his eyes, the pictures didn't stop. The white ceiling was like a widescreen movie screen complete with surround sound...he saw EJ being born, he saw Theresa crying, and crying, and crying...all those times he'd left her. All those times he'd turned his back on her. All the mistakes he'd made, and she'd made, all the times he'd fallen for Gwen's schemes and ignored his heart. It just wouldn't stop it...the memories, they were tormenting him. And they all ended the same, with Theresa's tear stained face as she looked at him in the garden, her voice insisting that it was over. "Promise me, Ethan...you have to promise me."

Abruptly, he sat up. He couldn't sit here in the dark any more and obsess on everything. Maybe he should go for a walk or something - scratch that. Too many memories associated with strolls around the garden. Maybe he should just go test out the liquor cabinet, see exactly how many shots of Jack Daniels it would take before the non stop movie loop in his head quit rolling. He stood up to go, and his gaze fell upon the snapshot of Theresa on his bedstand, then to the pictures next to it...EJ, Sarah, Jane...their smiling faces looking back at him, such trust in their eyes. Throwing a giant pity party for himself, finding solace in alcohol, it would do nothing for any of them.

He sighed, frustrated. Knowing that didn't stop the pain. It didn't stop the anger. Most of all, it didn't change the fact that he felt truly helpless. Theresa was marrying Jared. In three days. And there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

As he stood there, staring blankly, his gaze fell upon a red covered book, sitting on the corner of the table. Dr. Love's book. Anger rose in him, and he snatched it off the desk, staring for a moment at the vacous looking blond man on the cover. "A lot of help you were, Dr. Love. A whole hell of a lotta help! So much for the compliments." He opened the book and ripped several pages out, then threw them in the fireplace. "So much for the flowers. So much for being there for her. So much for showing up my rival. This was just a useless waste of time."

He continued tearing pages out and throwing them in the fireplace, taking a grim satisfaction in watching them burn. "I should never have relied on a stupid book in the first place. I should have relied on my instincts. I should have followed my heart years ago. I brought this all on myself." He picked up his journal from where it lay, took aim, and tossed it into the fireplace as well, watching as it caught light and began to burn. Then he threw the remains of the Dr. Love book in after it, and stayed there, the flames hypnotizing him, until it was nothing but ashes.

He didn't notice the single page that had escaped the inferno, floating from his hands down to the carpet, covered partly by the long bedspread.

The Following Afternoon

Theresa's voice was agitated as she spoke into the cell phone. "How can the DJ be unavailable? We confirmed everything last week! My wedding is in two days-what are we supposed to do for entertainment? Bring a CD player and a Party Train CD? Come on, don't make me say it."

"Say what?" The voice on the other end inquired politely, the employee's tone uninterested.

"Alright, you asked for it." Theresa snapped. "Here we go...brace youself."Â She summoned every bit of her Inner Bitch and allowed her voice to become cold and snobbish. "Do you know who I am? I am Theresa Crane...Mrs. Alistair Crane, and when I contract someone's services, I expect them to deliver."

"Crane?" The voice squeaked. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Crane...I thought I was speaking to your assistant."

"Oh, and that makes it so much better. You think you can jerk around my assistant and I'll be oblivious, right? Well, Amber...that is your name, right?" She waited for a moment, but there was no response. " I'll take your petrified silence as a yes. Amber, if you would like to keep your job - in fact, if you would like to keep any job in Harmony, I suggest that you make the DJ, whose services I have already paid for, available once again. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, Mrs. Crane. Of course! I am so sorry that we caused you any inconvenience..."

Theresa hung up on the endless apologies. "That's better." She said out loud. A low chuckle behind her made her whirl around.

"Playing the Crane card, I see." Ethan was leaning against the counter, watching her.

Theresa felt a blush coming on, but refused to give in to any feeling of embarrassment. "Damn right. I earned that privilege the hard way. Besides, no one is going to mess up my wedding day."

Ethan looked down, a flash of hurt in his eyes. "Of course. What could be more important?" His voice was tinged with bitterness.

"Ethan, please, don't do this now. We've already been over this, and over it. I'm marrying Jared. I've moved on with my life. It's time for you to do the same."

Ethan reached out to touch her face, unable to stop himself. He had to try, just one more time, had to try and make her see. His hand caressed her face for a moment, and when she didn't immediately pull away he felt a surge of hope. "Theresa." He murmured softly, his face nearing hers. At the last second, just when his lips were nearly on hers, she pulled away.

"Ethan, don't. Please."

Ethan started to speak but at that moment Jared displayed his usual impeccable timing and ambled into the kitchen. "Hi sweetheart...everything OK?"Â He leaned over to give Theresa a kiss.

"Everything's fine, Jared. There was a last minute problem with the DJ, but I got it taken care of." She looked at her watch. "I have to go back to the office. I want to make sure the winter ready to wear line is coming along the way it's supposed to be. That way, no one from work will have any excuse to bother us while we're on our honeymoon." She smiled at Jared, gave Ethan a brief look, and then picked up her purse from the counter, leaving the kitchen.

Jared leaned back on the counter, watching her go. Ethan turned to leave the room as well. He was at the doorway when Jared spoke.

"You just never give up, do you, Winthrop?" His voice was hard, angry.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan turned to face him, his voice betraying his impatience.

"Drop the Boy Scout act. I saw you in here with her. Every time I turn around you're pulling something new. When are you going to get it through your head, Ethan? You're history! I'm marrying Theresa in two days. Your little games are not only annoying, they're pathetic. Stop being such a sore loser and deal with it."

"Watch your mouth, Jared. I wouldn't be so smug if I were you. Your little victory...it's a bit hollow, don't you think? You may have Theresa in your bed, you may even put a ring on her finger, but it must get to you, deep down, knowing I'm the one she dreams about at night."

Fury flashed in Jared's eyes. "Don't push me, Winthrop. You're on real thin ice with me, and it won't take much to get me to crack."

"Is that some kind of threat?" Ethan stood up straight, glaring at the other man. "Because if it, I gotta say it's ringing a bit hollow as well."

Jared snorted. "I'm not going to get into a pissing contest with you, Winthrop. This conversation, much like your life with Theresa, is finished." He gave Ethan a final, smug look and turned to leave the kitchen.

Ethan told himself not to do it. Even as the words were echoing in his head, his hand was curling into a fist. "I won't hit him." He thought to himself. "I won't lose my temper. I won't bash his smug, smirking face in...I have more control than that." Yet somehow, his balled hand didn't appear to be listening. He watched, almost in slow motion, as it shot through the air, landing a perfect blow right into the center of Jared's face.

The other man fell off balance against the counter, then jerked upright, one hand touching his face gingerly. He gave Ethan a furious look. "You son of a -!" Jared launched himself at Ethan, smacking into the other man and driving him backwards against the counter. In a few minutes, there were no more words, just the sound of thumps, fists meeting flesh, and grunts of anger and pain.
--

Fifteen minutes later both men lay in the middle of the kitchen floor, exhausted, breathing heavily. Broken crockery littered the floor around them. The table had been overturned, pictures knocked off the wall...

After a moment Jared finally spoke. "You may be an uptight, pompous bastard but I'll give you this, Ethan. You can take a punch."

"Thanks." Ethan said wryly. "I guess I can say the same for you. Hope I didn't blacken your eye too badly - I'd hate to spoil your wedding pictures." His voice was thick with sarcasm.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Jared chuckled, but it was without humor. "What matters is that I'll be in the wedding picture, Ethan, and you'll be in the back pew, watching the one who got away. The one who's going to spend the rest of her life with me. I hope busting my lip made you feel better, because if I were you, it wouldn't do a damn thing for me."

Ethan felt the anger rising again, and he almost rose to his feet to continue the battle once more, but then a pressing sense of hopelessness weighed upon him once again. What was the point to any of it, anymore? Beating up Jared wouldn't accomplish anything.

Next to him, Jared seemed to be thinking the same thing. Finally, he sat up, looking at the mess around him. "Thank God for live in maids." He mumbled, then looked over at Ethan. "So what do you want to do now, Winthrop? Want to go for another round? Because I could wail on you all day...that would be just fine with me. Or I have another idea. We can do what men have done throughout the centuries when they have differences that can't be worked out any other way."

Ethan stared up at the ceiling as Jared spoke. "We can go to the bar and drink ourselves into a stupor?"

Jared grinned. "I knew there was a real man in there somewhere. Listen, Ethan, I'm not going to lie. I can't stand you. But you are the father of Theresa's children, and that means you'll be coming around a lot. We're going to have to find a way to get along. And since I got the girl, I'm feeling rather benevolent. How about I buy you a Guinness?"

Ethan slowly got to his feet, wondering if he'd lost his mind for even considering the possibility of spending the evening drinking with Theresa's fiance. "What the hell...this day can't get any worse. Lead the way."
--

"I think I'm done." Jared groaned two hours later as they sat at the bar. He pushed his half empty glass away. They were at the newly renamed Blue Note, now called The Briar Rose.

"Wuss." Ethan grunted, draining his glass.

"Whatever." Jared looked at him through blurry, yet amused eyes. "I guess if I was in your shoes, I'd keep drinking too. The thing is, I'm not. I won this one, Ethan, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Theresa chose me. You chased her, you even stooped to some lowbrow trickery, and you begged her, and she still chose me. I would have done the same thing, so I can't really blame you for trying. She can drive a man crazy, Theresa can." He slid off the stool. "I'm out of here. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Oh and by the way...if you need a taxi I got the perfect driver for you." He shot Ethan an acid grin and tossed him a business card.

"Cute." Ethan grumbled to himself as Jared strolled away. He looked up at Noah behind the bar. "Another one, Noah." He slid his empty glass towards him, and Noah rolled his eyes, but turned back to refill it.

"So we're getting drunk, are we?" A cheerful Irish brogue sounded in Ethan's ear, and he turned to see a smiling Kieran sitting next to him. "Brilliant. Glad to see you're enjoying the Guiness. I think I'll join you."

"Great." Ethan snapped.

"Oh, come now, what's with the attitude?" Kieran continued smiling as he signaled Noah to bring him a glass as well. "You and I are going to be great friends, you know. There's no reason why we shouldn't be, seeing as we have so much in common."

Ethan shot him an irritated look. "Such as?"

"Well, there's Gwen, of course." Kieran took a sip from his glass. "Then there's Sarah. And Jane. Also, I'm rather fond of that boy of yours as well. Did Theresa ever tell you I took him fishing?"

"Oh, that's wonderful." Ethan said bitterly. "I really needed to hear that. You married my ex wife, Sarah considers you more of a father than she does me, and now you want my son as well. You know, you're a lousy friend." His words were slightly slurred.

Kieran laughed. "You still have your sense of humor. That's a good sign. All hope is not lost after all."

Ethan looked at him. "You're kidding me, right?"

Kieran shrugged. Both were silent for a moment, then Kieran began speaking again. "Have I ever told you that I have relatives here, Ethan? In America, I mean."

Ethan took another swig of his drink. "Being that we've never had a conversation that lasted for more than five minutes, I'd have to say no."

"Well, I do." Kieran ignored his surly tone. "I don't know them well, or anything but we used to get letters from them all the time. My mother still does, back in Ireland. They're in a town called Salem, somewhere out west. Quite an interesting place, from what I hear."

Ethan frowned, the sound of Kieran's voice becoming more and more unpleasant as his head began to throb. Oblivious, Kieran continued. "Anyway, I have this cousin, Bo. Hmmm...is he my first or my second cousin? Let me think here. His father is my father's cousin...or was it his uncle? I can never remember...there are so many of us. Of course, now that I think of it, we're not really related by blood, there being a bit of funny business with some Greek man and his mother..."

"As fascinating as I find your family tree, do you have a point to this?" Ethan asked wearily.

"Oh yes, sorry...got a little off track there. Anyway, Bo fell in love with this woman, Hope. It was one of those amazing loves, you know, one of those things that was just meant to be. I'm a big believer in fate, myself, and those two were written in the stars, that's for sure. Their story has become family legend by now. Anyway, many years ago, Bo found himself in a very similiar situation to the one you find yourself in now. There'd been some misunderstandings, an argument, maybe a lie or two here and there, and next thing he knew, his Hope, the love of his life, the one he was fated to be with, was all set to marry someone else."

Ethan's ears pricked up and he looked at Kieran, who chuckled. "Finally got your interest, did I? Well, now that I have, stop crying in your beer and I'll tell you all about what Bo did when every other thing he'd tried had failed..."
--

The sound of rain pounding on the windows was louder than an army of drummers and it beat steadily into Ethan's head until he awoke with a groan.

"Aw, hell." He grimaced as he tasted the acrid, sour taste in his mouth and felt the throbbing in his head. For a moment, the room spun around him and then finally stilled. Finally, he gathered the strength to sit up, realizing as he did so that he was lying on his bedroom floor. How the hell had he gotten home? The last thing he remembered was Kieran's voice, telling him some wild tale about his American cousin...what was his name? Oh yes, Bo. Ethan sat still for a minute, trying to piece the conversation back together, then gave up. It didn't matter anyway. He knew what Kieran was trying to do, but it wouldn't work. It couldn't, because he'd promised...shaking his head, he refused to finish the thought.

After a few moments, he put his hand down on the carpet to help push himself up off the ground. He paused when he felt the crinkling of paper underneath his hand. "What is this?" He picked up the piece of paper, recognizing it immediately as a page from the Dr. Love book that he'd burned the night before. He started to crumple it in his hand but he couldn't help but read the words on the paper. The headline jumped out at him.

Giving up, are you?

Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I knew you were nothing but a nancyboy from the minute you turned these pages, unworthy of the carefully crafted words of wisdom that I offered up to you. You didn't even finish the steps did you? What is wrong with you - can't you count? The cover says "Ten Tips to Win the Woman of Your Dreams", not four. Imbecile.


So enlighten me, and yourself...why are you sitting there on the floor like a useless lump of clay instead of going out and getting your beloved? Oh yes...because you made a promise. A promise that stopped you in your tracks, a promise that crushed your hopes, stomped your dreams, and kicked dust all over the precious bit of pride you have left. So what should you do? Well, it's simple really. You are a man of honor, a man whose word is his bond. You gave your word. You must keep it. There's really nothing more to it than that.


Well, unless you're a clever man, and despite your many shortcomings, I'd like to imagine you are. See, a clever man always looks for the fine print. A clever man seeks out the twist in the words, and uses it to his advantage. So look at it this way. You promised to never interfere with your true love's marriage to another man, am I correct? Yes, of course I am. That's all well and good but let me ask you this:

Did you ever promise to not interfere with the wedding itself?

To Be Continued...

Please review if you've enjoyed it...I'm having a lousy day and it will cheer me up. :D