A Helping Hand
by
Owlcroft

On the one day that Lydia and Delia decided to have a "girls-day-out" in New York, Charles Deetz had to fall and hurt himself. Not knowing what else to do, he called his son-in-law for help. It was pretty easy, after all. He merely had to shout, "BJ, help!" and help was there.

Beetlejuice looked at him critically. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, Chuck, but I'm not sure you ought to be lying on the sidewalk like that. It looks sort of uncomfortable, among other things."

"I fell," said Charles, tautly. "And I've really hurt my hand. I think maybe I broke something."

So Beetlejuice took him to the nearest emergency room, where an x-ray confirmed Charles' own diagnosis. In addition to various scrapes and bruises, there was indeed a broken bone, near the left little finger, and it would need surgery with a pin inserted to keep it in place while it healed.

"You want me to tell Lyds and Deels? I can have the two of them back here in a –" Beetlejuice held up his hand, fingers set, "snap."

Charles lay in the hospital bed, an IV in his arm for pre-surgery sedation, while the on-call orthopedic specialist prepared for the operation. He sighed faintly, but said, "No, don't. They were really looking forward to this. Delia's been talking about it for more than a week and Lydia said seeing the current fashions would be useful."

"Yeah, but the stuff they're going to do – I mean, such girly stuff! An art exhibit, lunch at a tea room, shopping for purses. It's not like it's something important." Beetlejuice and Charles exchanged mildly deprecating frowns, each fiercely missing his wife.

The orthopedic patient then tried to find a better position, failed, and resigned himself to discomfort, all the while being careful not to jostle his IV. "Besides, what could they do, other than keep me company while we wait." He managed a small smile. "That's what I have you for."

Beetlejuice grinned back at him. "That goes into the folder labelled 'Things I Never Thought I'd Hear'."

"You know, BJ, I appreciate all your help today. I never thought, in the beginning when we first found out about you and Lydia," said Charles, sounding much more relaxed than usual due to the sedative, "that things would turn out this way. You know I wasn't thrilled about you two at the time. But look at it from my perspective. You'd been dating my daughter since she was thirteen!"

Beetlejuice objected to that. "No, I hadn't. We were friends then, best friends, but we didn't think of each other any other way. I mean, we weren't really dating until she turned seventeen and even then we were just kind of hanging around together. You know, movies and I helped her study and we'd be chased by head hunters. Just normal teen stuff, Chuck." He shrugged then and looked at his feet. "Then . . . that Christmas, she gave me a heart. On cufflinks. And I gave her one. That necklace." He sighed. "Yeah, it was all kind of sappy, I guess, but it meant . . . well, it meant . . . a lot. To me. And to her, too. She kissed me that day, for the first time. On the cheek," he hastened to add. "So then we started kissing each other, on the cheek, when we met and when we said good-bye. It was all really innocent for a long time."

"But we, her parents, didn't know anything about it, about you." Charles re-thought that and changed it to, "Actually, we thought you were 'Mr. Beetleman', some odd-job guy that showed up once in a while. Certainly no one that our daughter would be interested in. Couldn't you have given us a hint or something?"

"We . . . yeah, we both wanted to tell you. But it had to be her decision, and we were both afraid. Afraid that you wouldn't approve, wouldn't understand how . . . how we needed each other, needed to be together. You still don't entirely get it – that we're necessary to each other." Beetlejuice sighed again, looked down at his feet again. "This is the first day we've been apart since the wedding, you know. But hey, we made it through a whole year at least before that happened."

Charles nodded, slowly, carefully. "I know. Lydia's tried to explain what you two were thinking. But, on the other hand, we might have tried to understand."

Beetlejuice laughed loudly. "On the other hand. Chuck, you do have a sense of humor!"

Charles looked at him confusedly. Then he cracked a tiny smile. "Oh, right. Yes, I guess I can still get off a good one now and then." He continued to smile for a moment, then added, "You know, Delia made me promise not to ask Lydia about . . . well, about grandkids. But I didn't promise not to ask you." He raised his eyebrows hopefully at his son-in-law, then relaxed against the pillow with half-closed eyes.

"Well, we have talked about having kids." Beetlejuice leaned his head on his hand, elbow resting in mid-air. "And we do want some. But Lyds wants to get her business established first. Kids take a lot of your time and she has a real talent for design, you know. She ought to use it and it's something that . . . I don't know, it fulfills her need to create. Yeah, I know," he waved a hand at Charles who had made a small effort to interrupt, "having kids is creating something, too. But I want her to do this fashion stuff. It's her decision anyway, but I agree with it. I'd agree with it even if I didn't, but I really do." He paused for a moment, then said with a wry smile, "I suppose it might perk you up a little if I told you. We're thinking we'll name a boy, if we have one, after you."

"Really?" Charles did perk up a bit, smiling widely. "You'd do that? I . . . I don't know what to say." He blinked a few times, then added, "Don't know if I could say it if I knew . . . if I had something to say. Getting a little . . . hard to talk, you know?" But he continued to smile.

Beetlejuice hunched up a shoulder. "Well, we talked about it and we decided we'd name him Chazz, not Charles, spelled with two z's to rhyme with jazz. But he'd be named after you. It was Lyds' idea. But I like it."

"You've been very good to my Pumpkin." Charles was slurring his words at that point. "You really do make her happy."

His son-in-law shook his head emphatically. "She's been good to me. To me and for me. She's the one . . ." He sat in silence for half a minute. "I told you once that making her happy is why I exist. I said that the day we got engaged." He smiled then, very gently. "You're just about out of it, aren't you? And you won't even remember me getting all sappy."

A drowsy, "Hmmm?" was the only answer as the anesthesiologist and two nurses came into the room to take Charles Deetz into surgery.

ooooo

More than an hour and a half later, a gurney was wheeled into the room and Charles was shifted into his hospital bed, hand wrapped extensively, with a metal pin sticking out of the side. He was groggy at best, mostly still asleep, and occasionally snored almost as loud as Beetlejuice could. When he awoke enough to notice things, Lydia was holding his good hand and watching him attentively. "Where's BJ?" he asked, blinking hard.

"He's right here." Lydia grinned at him. "I did think you might be glad to see Mother and me, too."

Charles smiled woozily. "Oh, sure, Pumpkin. But BJ was giving me a hand with things." He giggled happily, then went back to sleep.