Chapter 37

"No! I'm not going to tell her you were driving!" House half laughed at his father-in-law as they stood on the moon-lit front lawn of his home. "It's a bent fender. Big deal."

"It's her car," Bill said cautiously. "Have you ever dented anything on her car before?"

"I have," Wilson spoke up. "It wasn't a pretty sight. Lisa almost cast me out of the house when I backed into a tree about a year ago."

"It didn't help that the tree was halfway through your lawn, either–did it?" House asked his friend.

"Alright–so it wasn't a "little" accident–but I'm telling you–Allison will take it a lot better if she thinks her father was driving."

"That's ridiculous," House scoffed.

"What took you guys so long?" Lisa asked as she turned on the porch light and came out the front door. "Oh, my God! What happened?"

This, of course, alerted the two other women inside as they came out to join them. A quick look at the three men verified that they were unharmed, at which point Allison moved to look at the damage to her car. She turned slowly and looked at House with her hands on her hips. House looked at her only a moment, then shrugged his shoulders as he leaned heavily on his cane.

"Your dad was driving," he said then went for the front door of the house.

"Um–yes, I was driving when it happened," Bill spoke up.

Allison watched her husband go into the house, then turned and looked at her father. She looked at Wilson who smiled nervously at her, then she went to the front door of her car and opened it. She looked back at her father and sat in the seat then quietly got out and paused at her father and Wilson.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No," Bill told her. "At least we don't think anyone was hurt. None of us were. And the other guy didn't even stop. They ran the red light and kept right on going."

"Did anyone get a license plate number?"

"No," Wilson said as he walked over to Lisa. "We got spun around and by the time we looked, they were long gone."

"Description of the car?" She asked.

"It was dark–blue or black. Other than that, it just happened so damn fast we couldn't be sure."

"Well, there's no point doing anything more about it tonight," Allison sighed as she turned and started for the house with the others following.

Once inside, Lisa picked up a sleeping Jessica, and James carried the tote bag for her. They said their goodbyes and went back to their car and drove off. Bill stood silently in the foyer as Allison picked Dee off the sofa and Karen turned off the lights in the living room and made sure the door was locked.

"Are you sure you weren't hurt when you were hit, Dad?" Allison asked, barely looking at her father as she started up the stairs with Karen right behind her.

"No, not really." Bill started up the stairs behind his wife.

"I mean, with the car getting hit right there on the driver's side–you would have taken the full force of the hit. Are you sure you're alright?" She put Dee into the little girl's bed and turned on the nightlight before coming back out and looking at her father.

"No, I–I didn't get hurt–I guess, you might. . . "

"Want to check to see if Greg's hurt?" Allison asked her father as he merely looked at the floor. "The seat was back too far for you to have been driving, Dad. I know Greg was driving when the accident happened. If you weren't hurt, then you might as well go to bed–it's getting late and I'm sure Dee will be up bright and early in the morning."

She went into her bedroom and saw that House still hadn't come upstairs yet. He must have gone to the back of the house while she and her parents took Dee upstairs. She really was tired. It was a long day and an even longer evening waiting for the men to return from their "night out." She was looking forward to a relaxing shower and an even more relaxing night's sleep.

The fact that he lied to her about driving the car bothered her a bit–but then knowing her father, he probably put him up to it, feeling she would be less angry with him than with her husband. And, she decided it was probably their intoxicated state that created that fabrication. Who cares who was driving, especially considering it wasn't their fault.

She paused as she closed the door to the bathroom. She wanted to lock it very badly. She really just wanted to go to bed after her shower, but she had a feeling if he found the door locked, it would instigate an argument that she didn't want her parents to hear. So, she simply closed the door and got into the shower, hoping for an uninterrupted session in the heated water. She didn't stay in long, no more than twenty minutes and she was drying off with a big fluffy towel and pulling on her panties and nightshirt. But, being a woman, her curiosity got the best of her as she wondered just why he "didn't" come in and interrupt her. As she came out to her bedroom she saw him sitting on the rocking chair in the corner, drinking a bottle of beer. He put his fingers to his lips in a "shhh" manner and she looked at him questioningly. She glanced at their bedroom door and saw that it was open.

"Sit down and listen," he whispered to her.

She did as he said as she moved to the end of the bed nearest the door and listened as her parent's voices came from their bedroom suite next door.

"That was stupid!" Karen said to her husband. "Now what if they get into a fight because you "thought" she would get mad at her husband for having some other drunk run into him?"

"I haven't heard anything yet," Bill answered.

"That's because she went in to take a shower. Give her time to come out. If you would've jut let well enough alone–but no–you had to make him lie to her! I almost hope they "do" fight over it–then you can just lay here and listen to it and feel guilty about it, knowing it was your bright idea."

"James agreed with me."

"Well, then James is an idiot, too–isn't he? Why? Why would you have him lie about that?"

"You! Remember when I wrecked in your car? You didn't let me live it down for six months!" Bill said forcefully. "But then your dad comes over and drives his big old Buick into the rear end of "my" car and you never say a cross word. You were more concerned about whether he got hurt when he damn near demolished my car–and he barely dented his bumper."

"Good Lord, Bill! That was thirty years ago! And if you remember correctly, I got mad at you because you were racing Jack through the corn fields the summer he graduated high school, when you rolled it! And that following winter–Dad only drove into your car because you shoveled snow up over the back of your car "and" didn't spread cinders on the icy road. He didn't even see your car in the driveway until it was too late–then he slid on the ice right into it."

"See! You're still sticking up for him!"

"Bill!" Karen said in exasperation. "You rolled my car while racing through a corn field! What part of that do you not understand? You were being exceedingly reckless and irresponsible. My father was not!"

"Yeah–and it couldn't be that your old man warmed himself with a few shots of Jack Daniels before he drove over to our house, could it?"

"He did not! He didn't . . . drink that much."

"Yeah–he didn't drink that much–he could drink me under the table and keep on going after I'd be laying in my bed snoring!"

"Well, if that's the case–then a few shots of Jack Daniels shouldn't have effected his driving–should it?" She asked smartly.

"So you admit it! He was sloshing back the bottle that morning–and all I was doing that day was celebrating with my young brother-in-law because he graduated high school. "We" weren't drinking!"

"No! You both shared a joint before you got into the car!"

This remark turned House's and Allison's eyes to one another–Allison's wide with shock and House's with surprised humor.

"Oh–don't stand there so holier than thou! You and Janey just finished one too. There I was, all scraped up and crawling out of the damn car and all you and your lunatic sister could do was hold onto each other so you wouldn't fall on the ground, laughing. That is, until you finally realized it was your car that I wrecked. That stopped your laughing pretty damn quick–didn't it!" There was a moment's silence before they heard Bill go on. "See! You're still laughing about it!"

"Well, you have to admit–it was kind of funny. I mean, when you started to flip the car, all we could hear was you screaming and it sounded like cross between a rebel yell, Disney's Goofy and a woman–all rolled into one. Then you got out of the car and said you saw Jesus, but then you weren't sure if it was Jimmy Carter instead, so you yanked the steering wheel and flipped. And it turned out to be the stupid scarecrow that Janey made that spring." Karen's laughter couldn't be contained at this point. "Janey asked if you were going to go back and kneel before it to pray to Carter or vote for Jesus, and all you could say was "It was Jesus and the president all rolled into one!"

Bill's laughter joined his wife's. "And in the meantime, Jack is down at the finish line, at the other end of the cornfield, confessing everything to your dad because he knew it was his fault that I was laying, dead, out there in the middle of the field."

"And Dad asked why in the hell he was telling him all this and not back there tending to you, and he said he had to finish the race–didn't he? Oh, my God–I was never so scared in my life as when I saw Dad pulling up with Jack, threatening to call the cops on us for smoking a joint in his cornfield. I wonder if he ever realized that he scared us all so badly that day that we never had the desire to smoke it again."

"It worked–didn't it? Thirty years and still no desire for another hit of pot."

"You know, I might have gotten angry with you for wrecking my car–but you certainly looked remarkably sexy when you climbed out of that car that day," Karen said in a suddenly slower sultry tone. "With your hair all mussed and blood coming down over your forehead. Your jeans were so tight, and your shirt hung open. You made my knees weak. If Janey was holding me up–I'm sure that was the reason why."

"And you were a sight to behold in those cut-off blue jeans and halter top. Jeez, but you were gorgeous. I don't even think they could call what you were wearing–a halter top–could they?"

"Huh-uh," she moaned negatively. "It was a man's red handkerchief folded diagonally, then tied around my chest."

"Whatever it was, it always got me harder than any ears of corn we could have found in that field that day."

"And bigger," Karen giggled.

Again, Allison's eyes grew large as she heard the muffled sounds of clothes and bedsprings.

"Did they leave their door open?" Allison asked House, and he chuckled as he nodded his head yes. "Well, go close it! I don't want to hear that! Good Lord! What if Dee wakes up and walks in on it! It's bad enough to walk in on your parents–but to walk in on your grandparents–it could do some real damage!"

House got to his feet and moved past his wife out the door. As he approached their room, he could see that their lights were on and he discreetly kept his eyes on the carpet as he reached for the door handle and pulled it closed. He returned to find his wife pacing the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked as he sat back in the chair and took a drink from his bottle. "Didn't you know your parents had sex? You really didn't believe their story about the stork bringing you–did you? Oh–that's right–you come from farm country–you're left in the cabbage patch–right?"

"Oh, shut up! I guess it doesn't bother you when you hear your parents going at it."

"That doesn't happen. As far as I know, I was the product of artificial insemination. My mother truly was a sainted virgin."

"Greg!"

"Alright–so they may have had sex once in a while. Who knows?"

"I'm not even talking about my parents having sex. Unlike you–I can fully accept that my mother and father are mad about one another. What I'm having trouble accepting is how irresponsible they were! Where in the hell was "I" when all this was going on?"

"Evidently not in the cornfield getting stoned."

"Greg! I was six years old when Uncle Jack graduated. The fact that they all went out and got blitzed is a bit disturbing. After all, they were the four people who influenced my life the most."

"And here I thought it was me," he said as he grabbed her hand and yanked her into his lap. When she still looked at him with aggravation written plainly on her face, he sighed. "Look, you make it sound as if you never got drunk or stoned in your life."

"That's different! I didn't have a six-year-old child. . ." She stopped when she realized that she did, indeed, have a child at home. House's eyebrows raised in skepticism. "Alright, so I did have Tony–but he was home with my parents and I was in college–or later, I was working while he was with Mom and Dad."

"Well, I'm sure that's where you were. Probably in the kitchen with Gramma having lemonade and cookies as you watched Sesame Street."

"I don't know how you can sit there and take this so lightly? These are my parents we're talking about! I had certain rules and values as I was growing up! And the people who set the boundaries of those values turn out to have been pot heads!"

House shrugged his shoulders. "Being scared out of smoking it by an angry father hardly makes them pot heads."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean–if they were truly devoted to the stuff–they would have laughed their father's threats off and found some other place to get high. They didn't. They just walked away from it."

"I'm going to bed," she said in frustration as she got off his lap and got into her side of the bed. "I'll have a little discussion with my mother tomorrow after work."

"No, you wont," House told her.

"And why not?"

"For one reason, if you bring it up, then she'll know that you overheard her talking about it–and that means you overheard them doing the dirty deed. And for another–get over yourself, kiddo. You're parents weren't saints. They were just plain old good people."

House finished his beer as he watched her go to sleep, then undressed and got in bed with her. He half-smiled to himself as he decided that if she had to be mad at anyone that night, he was glad it was her parents instead of him.