Title: Motherless Boy (2/2)
Date Written: 2/06/02
Author: JanetD
Rating: G
Summary: This story describes the death of Nick's mom, and why/how Burton sends Nick to boarding school.
Author's Notes: All I know about prep schools is what I've seen on TV and in the movies, so please pardon me if I've gone amiss anywhere.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any resemblance between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual organization is purely coincidental.

Nick Fallin, 12, laid in bed contemplating the latest life-altering event in his life. It had been three days since his father, Burton, had dropped the bombshell that he was to attend boarding school. Nick still felt shell-shocked. His mother had died only two weeks before, and now his father was sending him away to prep school in Vermont. His dad already had all the arrangements made. They would be flying up to the school on Sunday. Mrs. Buehl, the housekeeper, had taken him shopping just that afternoon for some new clothes - mostly socks and underwear (underwear - how embarrassing!). But also some new shoes and new casual clothes for the weekends. His father had said that they would buy his school uniforms once they got to the Middlebury.

Nick shook his curly, blonde head slowly, and frowned, as he faced the prospect of the new school and being away from home. This house had always been his home. In the beginning, it had been one they all shared -- his father, mother, and him. Then after the divorce, it became home to just his mother and him. Now Mom was dead, and Dad was sending him away. He turned his mind quickly away from that thought. He'd done enough crying to last him a lifetime in the last two weeks. He didn't want to cry now. What he wanted to do was think logically about the problem, see if there wasn't some way out of this fate that seemed to be bearing down on him like a locomotive.

Suddenly, Nick recalled the words his grandmother had said to him the morning after his mother's funeral. They had been standing outside saying their goodbyes, as Grandmother, Grandfather, and Aunt Liz prepared for their return trip to Philadelphia. When she had hugged him goodbye, Grandmother had said that if he ever needed anything, anything at all, all he had to do was call. He wondered if that might be a way out of this. Maybe, if he called Grandmother and told her that Dad was sending him away to school, maybe she and Grandfather could talk him out of it.

Nick let out a long sigh. He didn't suppose there was much hope there though. Once his dad made up his mind about something, he hardly ever changed it. Nick had learned that a long time ago. Of course, maybe if his grandparents couldn't talk Dad out of sending him away, maybe there was another way. Maybe he could go live with them. He mulled that over in his mind for a few minutes. After all, it was clear his father didn't want him. He frowned angrily for a few seconds, but then returned to his previous train of thought. Living with his grandparents...it would still be leaving home, leaving his friends, leaving everything that was familiar to him, but it would probably be better that going off to some strange school to live among people he'd never met. He loved his grandparents, and knew they loved him. It would probably be all right.

Nick made up his mind. He'd call his grandparents after school tomorrow, before Dad got home. Dad...Dad, would not be pleased with him going behind his back to seek an out with his grandparents. He'd probably be angry. Of course, a guy had the right to speak to his grandparents once in a while, didn't he? He'd just call them to say hi'. He wouldn't mention the school right away. He'd let Grandmother ask him how things were going. Then he'd have to tell her about the school and everything, wouldn't he? Pleased that he'd worked out a viable plan, Nick rolled over in bed, and went to sleep.

----+----

Nick was in his mother's bedroom. He'd headed upstairs right after he'd gotten home, determined to make the phone call to his grandparents before he lost his nerve. He stared at the phone while making a silent promise to himself to maintain his self-control during the call -- to not cry. Finally, he picked up the receiver, and dialed his grandparents' number. His grandmother answered after the third ring.

she said.

Grandmother, this is Nick.

Why, Nicky, honey. It's good to hear from you. How are you?

Nick's pledge to himself flew out the window as he heard his grandmother's warm, familiar voice, and the tears started to come.

Grandmother, I, I.... he said in a broken voice.

Why, Nick, what is it? What's wrong? Margaret Wentworth's voice was full of concern at the unhappiness she heard in her grandson's voice.

Nick burst into tears at this point, and had to struggle to get the rest of the words out. Dad, Dad is sending me away...a-away to school in Vermont.

Margaret wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. Nick, now just try to calm down, honey. Take a deep breath.... That's it. Now tell me again. Your father is sending you where?

He's sending me to prep school in Vermont. He says that's the best thing.

When? When is he sending you to school? Margaret asked quickly.

We leave on Sunday. He says, he says, I should get started right away. Nick had control of himself now, and was able to reply fairly calmly.

His Grandmother did not answer for a moment. Angry words had been on the verge of passing her lips, but she had stopped them in time. It did no good to denigrate his father to Nick. When she spoke her voice was calm.

You don't want to go, is that right, Nick?

No, I don't. I'll hate it there. I-I know I will, Nick answered with feeling.

Well, honey, let me talk to your Grandfather. Maybe there's something we can do. You just, just hang tight, okay? Try not to worry.

Okay, Grandmother. Thank you. Good-goodbye.

Goodbye, honey.

As Nick hung up the phone a feeling of relief passed through his slight frame. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe his grandparents could talk Dad out of sending him away. He headed back to his room to wait out the hours until dinner.

----+----

Burton Fallin stared across the dinner table at his son. As usual, Nick had had very little to say. In the last few days, Burton had pretty much given up attempts to pry any conversation from his boy. True, since his mother's death, it had always yielded slim results, but ever since he had told Nick about prep school, his success rate had dropped to almost zero. His son's silences had become almost sullen at times. It was really beginning to wear on Burton's nerves. He found himself guiltily looking forward to Nick's starting school and his own life returning to normal. Well, it would only be a few more days now.

----+----

Burton was at his desk later that evening when the phone rang. It was about 8:30, and he had been deep in study of the papers for the Lawton case when his concentration was abruptly disrupted by the ringing of the phone.

Nick, in his bedroom, heard the phone ring, as well. He crept stealthily down the stairs, and over to the door of his father's study. He was hoping it was his Grandmother, and he was anxious to hear as much of the conversation as he could.

Burton answered the phone. he said.

Burton, this is Margaret. How are you?

Fine, fine, Margaret, Burton replied, with surprise showing in his voice. Thank you. How, uh, how are you and Charles?

Very well, thank you, Burton.

Well, that's good to hear.... Did you want to speak to Nick? He's upstairs, but I could get him for you.

Actually, I talked to Nicholas this afternoon. That's why I'm calling now.... He told me about the school in Vermont. He didn't sound very happy about the idea, Burton.

Well, no, I guess he's not, Burton replied, somewhat chagrined. But, I think it's for the best, Margaret, and Nick's a bright boy. I'm sure he'll adapt in no time.

But, Burton, to send him away so soon? Anne...Anne has only been gone two weeks. The poor boy hasn't yet had time to recover from that shock, and now you're shipping him off to live among a group of strangers?

Burton felt his temper rising, but sought to control it. Margaret, I know you're just concerned about Nick's welfare, but he's my son, and I have to decide what's best for him. Nick needs structure. I can't give that to him...working the hours I do. Hamilton Academy is an excellent school. They'll provide him with the kind of environment he needs to grow and excel.

But, Burton, Margaret persisted. He's only a child, barely twelve years old. Surely you should wait till he's fourteen to send him away to school. And to send him all the way to Vermont.... Her voice trailed off.

Vermont was Nick's choice, Margaret. He could have picked a school here in-state, but he chose Hamilton Academy.

Margaret did not answer right away, but when she did she spoke in her most persuasive tone. Why not consider sending Nick to live with us, Burton? There are plenty of good boys' schools right here in Philadelphia. His grandfather and I would love to have him.

Burton grimaced, and let out an audible sigh. I appreciate the offer, Margaret, but I don't think that would work. You and Charles have only raised daughters. You have no idea what it would be like to have an active boy in the house. And Nick will be a teenager soon. That's when boys are most in need of firm boundaries and discipline. He paused. I'm sorry, I know you're only thinking of Nick, but the answer has to be

Margaret coaxed, why not at least think about the idea for a little while? Maybe just leave Nick with us until he's fourteen. Then if you still feel there are advantages to him boarding out at a prep school, he could go then.

No. No, I'm sorry Margaret. I've made up my mind about this. I'm sorry.

Margaret sighed in defeat. Well, Burton, I'm disappointed to hear you say that. I think you're making a terrible mistake, and I sincerely hope you don't come to regret it.... You know, there are some things in life that can't be mended once they're broken.

Burton was silent as he studied her last words. Yes, well...I have to do what I think is best.... Good night, Margaret.

Good night, Burton.

As Nick heard his father getting ready to hang up the phone, he headed quietly back to his room. Unhappiness dogged his steps. Even with hearing only one side of the conversation, it had been obvious that his father was not going to budge. He, Nick, was still headed for boarding school.

Burton placed the receiver back in its cradle. He wore an unhappy expression as he stared off into space for a moment. Then drawing in a long breath, he headed upstairs to talk to Nicholas.

Burton walked into his son's bedroom without knocking. Nick was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. He looked up when his father entered. Burton gazed at his son a moment. He kept his voice level as he began. That was your grandmother on the phone. She told me about your call to her this afternoon. Nick looked at the bed clothes, and didn't say anything. Burton tried to sound encouraging, as he continued. Son, I know you're...apprehensive...about attending prep school, but trust me, it will be fine. You'll make friends in no time. You'll see.

There was no sign of response from Nick. Burton paused, running his left hand across the top of his head, before continuing. The truth is Nicholas, I just can't give you the things you need the most right now. With the hours I work, I can't be here to provide the guidance a boy your age needs. I'm sorry, son, but I think this school is going to be the best thing for you.

Nick still stared silently at the bed, and Burton found himself wishing, not for the first time, that his son would look him in the eye. Burton frowned, and stroked his mustache with one hand. He had considered not mentioning the next part of the phone conversation to Nick, but decided he would find out sooner, or later, and it was better he heard it from him.

Your grandmother suggested that you come to live with them for a while, that you attend school there in Philadelphia. At these words, Nick looked up hopefully, even though he knew his father had already rejected the offer. But, I told her I didn't think that was a good idea. Your grandparents aren't young anymore, Nicholas. Their health is not the best. They really aren't in any kind of shape to take on the responsibility of a boy your age.

As Nick's face fell, Burton found himself feeling badly for his son. He thought a moment, and then added, That's not to say you couldn't, uhm, spend some of the school holidays with your grandparents. Maybe you could go there for spring break. That's not that far away. What do you say? Would you like that?

Nick nodded, but didn't speak.

Burton spent another moment gazing at his son's bend head, before saying, Well...good night, son. He waited, but when Nick didn't reply, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Nick gazed out into space with a mutinous look, before forcefully throwing his upper body back onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling with a helpless feeling of frustration and melancholy.

----+----

It was Saturday afternoon, and Nick was finishing up his packing. Mrs. Buehl had helped him pack the majority of his things yesterday. He was just adding the last few personal items now. He looked around his room to decide what he couldn't bear to leave behind. His father had told him he was not allowed to take everything and the kitchen sink'. Those were his words. And Nick knew he meant it, so he was trying to limit it to small things that meant a lot to him.

He tossed his Rubix Cube in the bag. There was no question about leaving that behind. His mother had given it to him for his birthday. He threw in his favorite baseball too. Sometimes when he was thinking about things he liked to toss the ball back and forth, hand to hand. He saw another couple items on his dresser that he didn't want to be without, and added them too. Now came the hard part -- deciding what to do about his secret keepsake, the one nobody knew about. It was one of his mother's lace-edged handkerchiefs. His mother had had the habit of keeping a perfumed handkerchief in her handbag. Whenever she opened her purse, the sweet scent would waft out.

The night that his mother had gone into the hospice, Nick had been searching the house for comfort, some kind of solace. He had wandered into his mother's room, and seen her perfume tray on the dresser. He had walked over, and picked up the one bottle that he knew was her favorite. He had often seen his mother spritz herself with this scent before heading out the door to one of her meetings. That evening he had sprayed a mist of the perfume into the air, and sniffed it appreciatively. It brought back so many wonderful memories of his mother -- Mom kissing him on his way out the door to the school bus.... Mom reaching down to hug him after he'd told her a funny joke.... Mom tucking him in and kissing him good night.... He smiled at the memories.

Then he had remembered the handkerchiefs in the top middle drawer of his mother's dresser. He retrieved one, and sprayed it generously with the perfume. He replaced the perfume atomizer on his mother's tray, and then headed for his bedroom, the hanky hidden in his hand. From that evening on, it had become his secret treasure. Lying in bed at night, when his yearning for his mother became overwhelming, he would hold the delicate piece of fabric to his face, and smell his mother's scent. It had become his biggest comfort.

Nick had gotten into the habit of keeping the handkerchief underneath his pillow. He just had to be sure to remember not to leave it there on Wednesday mornings when Mrs. Buehl washed his sheets. He had reapplied the perfume several times now to keep the scent strong. When his father had moved into the house, Nick had taken the perfume bottle off his mother's dresser, and hidden it in his room. He knew his father would get rid of his mother's things eventually, and he hadn't wanted to risk the loss of this special font of comfort.

Now he was faced with a difficult decision -- whether to take the perfume and handkerchief to school with him. He knew if the other boys learned he kept his mother's handkerchief like this, he would be a source of ridicule. But, he also didn't want to give up the one thing that had become such a comfort to him in his bleakest hours. He finally decided he couldn't risk taking the perfume itself. If it was discovered he'd be tagged a sissy' for life. But, he would risk taking the hanky. It was small, and easy to hide among his own things. The problem was the smell. He didn't want his own clothes reeking of perfume, and he also wanted to preserve the scent on the handkerchief as long as possible. He finally decided he would get a ziploc bag from the kitchen. If he kept the handkerchief in there, it would protect his clothes, and make the scent last longer. Pleased with this compromise he set the handkerchief aside, and turned his attention to the problem of where to hide the perfume bottle. He didn't want his father or Mrs. Buehl to find it. He considered and discarded several options, and finally decided to leave it where it was now -- hidden up in his closet in a shoe box. He didn't think either his father or Mrs. Buehl were too likely to be going through the shelves in his closet.

He ran down to the kitchen for the ziploc bag. Returning to his room, he put the hanky in the bag, and then carefully placed it in his suitcase between a pile of underwear. Satisfied, he closed up the suitcase, and surveyed the two bags full of his belongings. He sighed at the inevitability of it all, and walked out of the room to go watch some TV.

----+----

Nick and Burton were in a rental car, headed for Middlebury, Vt. They had flown into Burlington that morning, and it was about a 45 minute drive to Middlebury where Hamilton Academy was located. Burton glanced over at his son. Nick was staring silently out the window. The landscape was pretty stark at present, with the trees bare of their leaves, but it was obvious that in any other season it would have been beautiful, lots of tree-covered rolling hills, with mountains in the distance.

Nick had been silent the whole morning. Even the take-off from Pittsburgh had elicited no comment from him, and it could only be the third or fourth time the boy had ever flown. Burton thought to himself, at least there've been no tears today either.

As they pulled into Middlebury it was obvious that this was a very old town, built around a piece of Common ground, as were many in New England. The buildings that lined the streets of the downtown were all very well maintained, and many were classic examples of the architecture of the region.

Burton pulled the car into a spot close to Whitman's Fine Apparel. The school had informed him that this would be the place to get Nick's uniforms. Father and son entered the store, and in no time, Nick was fitted out in the gray trousers, blue blazer, white shirt and red and gold striped tie that made up the Hamilton uniform. He stared at himself in the mirror disconsolately. Stupid uniform, he found himself thinking. He'd never had to wear a uniform at his old school.

Placing the bundle of new clothes in the sedan, Burton hailed Nick, who had been walking with slow footsteps back to the car, Come on son. Let's go.

They drove the mile and a half out of town to the school. It was an impressive three-story brick building, situated on a large piece of partially-wooded ground. As they came up the long drive, several outbuildings and a stable were in view. Horses could be seen grazing in a pasture in the distance. Nick cheered up just a little at the sight of the horses. He had always had a passion for the large, magnificent creatures. The prospect of riding was one of the only bright spots on an otherwise dark horizon. The school was surrounded by a large, well-cared-for, lawn. It was a nice day for January, and several boys could be seen engaged in a game of tag football.

His father pulled the car up to the front of the building, and they got out. Right inside the main entrance to the building they found a reception desk. The receptionist greeted them pleasantly, and Burton said, Hello. I'm Burton Fallin and this is my son Nick. We're here to enroll Nicholas for the current semester. The receptionist smiled as she said, Well, welcome to Hamilton Academy. I'll just let the headmaster Mr. Whitington know you've arrived.

In just a few minutes, Mr. Whitington came down the stairs. He was a tall, dark-haired man in his middle forties. He stuck out his hand to Burton, as he said enthusiastically, Mr. Fallin, very good to meet you. The two men shook hands. Mr. Whitington next offered his hand to Nick, and said, And this must be Nicholas! Welcome young man. I think you're really going to enjoy your time here. We have a very good group of young people here at Hamilton. Nick shook his hand, but didn't say anything.

Mr. Whitington continued, Well, Mr. Fallin, we received Nicholas' transcripts, and everything seems to be in order. If you like, I'll give you and Nick a brief tour of the school, and then show you up to his room.

Burton smiled, and placed his hand on Nick's shoulder, as he said, Thank you, Mr. Whitington. We'd like that.

Mr. Whitington walked them around the school building, pointing out various classrooms, the gym, the dining room, and anything else of interest they passed. Then he took them outside, and pointed out a few things around the grounds.

Returning inside he led them over to the boys' dormitory. Nick's room turned out to be on the third floor. It was a double room, and he could see his roommate's side was covered with his possessions. The room was a comfortable size for two boys, with two twin beds, two chests of drawers, two desks, and two closets. While they had been touring the school, Mr. Whitington had had Nick's suitcases and new uniforms brought up to the room. The bundle of uniforms sat on the bed, while the suitcases were on the floor nearby.

As he realized Mr. Whitington was speaking, Nick turned his attention back to the headmaster.

Your roommate is a boy named Michael Fulton, Nicholas. He's in your year, so should be able to show you the ropes. I suppose he's outside right now, but you should meet him at dinner.... Well, Mr. Fallin, will you be joining us for the evening meal? We'd be glad to have you.

Burton smiled at the invitation, but shook his head. Thank you, but no. I'm flying back to Pittsburgh later this afternoon. I just thought I'd get Nick settled, and then head on back to the airport.

Well, I'll leave you with your son then. Turning his attention back to Nick, the headmaster said, Nick, dinner is promptly at 5:00 on Sundays. Michael should be back in the room before that, so he should be able to take you downstairs. All right? Nick replied, Yes, sir, and Mr. Whitington smiled. Well, good, good. I'll leave you two alone now. With a last look at Nick, he added, We're very glad to have you here, Nicholas. I want you to know that. With those words, Mr. Whitington headed out the door.

Father and son shared another silent look around the room. At last, Burton said, So, Nick, would you, uhm, like me to help you unpack?

No, thank you, Nick answered tonelessly. I can do it myself.

Well, okay then. Burton seemed to think a minute. Ohh, you'll be needing some walking around money'. Here...here's fifty dollars, son. That should tide you over for a while. As he handed him the money, Nick took it, and stared at it silently.

His father continued, We'll have to work out what you're spending expenses are, and then I'll, uh, send you that amount each month. Now, take good care of that, Nicholas. That's a lot of money for a boy your age. I expect you to be responsible with it.

Yes, sir. Nick replied, still not looking at his father.

Burton looked around once more. Well, is there anything else you need before I leave? Anything you'd like me to do.... Burton's voice trailed off on the last sentence. He looked at his son expectantly.

This time Nick looked up at his father, and said, No. You can go. I'm, I'm fine. To his immense relief, he hadn't cried yet. He was determined not to, at least not until his father had left.

Well...well, I guess this is goodbye then son.... You, you be good and study hard. You, uhm, make me and your mother proud of you. Okay? Burton felt his own eyes filling as he said these words to his son.

Nick just nodded silently. Burton stared at his son for another long moment, then reached forward, and clasped the child to him in a bear hug. Nick did not resist the embrace, but neither did he return it. Burton held on to his son for a moment, then released him, and stepped back.

Without meeting his son's eyes, he said, Well, okay then, I'll see you later, son. You take good care of yourself, all right? Bye bye.

Nick did not see his father walk out of the room. He had his attention on the floor boards. But once his dad was gone, Nick stepped over to the window. His room was on the front of the building so he had a view of the driveway where their rental car was parked. In a few minutes time he saw his father emerge from the building. Burton reached the driver's door of the car, but paused for a moment, and peered back up at the building. Nick stepped back from the window, not wanting his father to see him. After 20 or 30 seconds, Burton lowered his gaze, and opened the car door. He got in, and drove slowly away.

As he watched his father's car disappear down the long drive, Nick began to breathe again. Without even realizing it, he had started holding his breath the moment his father had turned to look up at the windows. Now, he took another look around the room, and sat down on his bed. He was surprised that he wasn't crying. He'd expected to, but somehow he didn't feel like crying anymore. He just felt a great, yawning, emptiness inside. It seemed impossible to imagine that anything could ever fill that emptiness. After a moment, he got up from the bed, and slowly began to unpack.

The End