CHAPTER 20
Rachel looked at John, as their hired car pulled up in front of the office complex. His face was very pale, and his jaw was tightly clenched. She could see a muscle jumping in his cheek. For one moment, she thought he wasn't going to get out of the car, but he did, and strode into the building, leaving her to lock the car. She caught up with him at the elevator, taking hold of his arm, and feeling the muscles beneath her hand tense and seem as hard as concrete to her touch.
He punched the button for the fifth floor, where the offices of O'Doyle & Co. were located, and leaned back on the back wall of the elevator, taking deep and measured breaths.
Rachel held onto his arm, trying to act casually. She knew he was nervous, but didn't know how he was going to react when face to face with the man he had hated for most of his life. She was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.
All the way to Boston in the plane, he had been quiet, and very tense. When they had arrived at their hotel, he had basically dumped the bags, and grabbed the car keys, wanting to get this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible. Rachel could tell he was getting more and more wound up, and hoped that this was not going to be a disaster!
When the elevator doors opened, he took one more deep breath, and strode out, and straight up to the reception desk, where two people were talking to a receptionist.
She looked up at John, then her jaw literally dropped as she took in his resemblance to her boss.
"O'Doyle," he barked at her, and she looked sideways at a closed door, then back at him.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, unable to believe her eyes.
"No," replied John, "But he will see me."
"Could I have your name," she replied, her hand hovering over her switchboard.
John hesitated for a moment, and glanced down at Rachel. "Grant," he said to the receptionist, "John Grant."
"Mr O'Doyle is in a meeting at the moment," she said primly, not understanding the tension in the man facing her. "Please take a seat, and I'll see if he can see you. Although it might be better if you were to make an appointment."
Rachel winced and held her breath; the situation was way out of her control now.
John leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "Is that his office in there?" he asked, pointing at the closed door to one side of the round reception desk.
"Yes," came the reply, "But as I said, Mr O'Doyle can't be disturbed right now. You will have to wait." She raised her voice as she spoke, and the two people leaning on the reception desk at the other end, straightened and looked towards them expectantly.
"Is there a problem?" asked one of the men, walking towards John and Rachel, and looking enquiringly at the receptionist.
"Not at all," replied John politely, and walking around the desk, strode towards the closed door, leaving everyone stunned in his wake. Rachel, the man who had come forward, and the receptionist all scurried along after him, but had no chance of stopping him, as he flung the door open, and walked into the office.
Three men were seated around a large and highly polished desk, and they all looked around in surprise when the door was so forceably opened, rising to their feet as one. Patrick O'Doyle was perhaps the most surprised, he started to say something, but the words died in his throat as he stared at the man in the doorway.
Rachel had by that time caught up with John, and tried to take his arm, but he shook her restraint off, and stepped further into the room. The receptionist also came into the room, looking as if she were going to cry.
"I'm sorry, Mr O'Doyle, but he just pushed past me and came in, I tried to stop him.."
"It's all right, Susan, everything's fine," said O'Doyle, when he could find his voice.
"Shall I call the police?" the receptionist named Susan asked, almost fearful of this angry looking young man, frightened he was going to harm her employer somehow. More people began gathering in the open doorway, crowding in behind Rachel.
This got John's attention. "I am the police," he said to her, more gently than before, and pulled out his FBI badge, but not taking his eyes from the man standing before him.
O'Doyle was still stunned, however he turned to the man standing next to him and shook his hand. "I'll need a moment, Ted," he said, "If you could all wait for me outside?"
Both men in the office began to leave, and the rest of the crowd began backing out. John never moved, and never dropped his gaze, the muscle in his cheek jumping again. Rachel moved to shut the door when everyone else had left, and still Patrick and John stared at each other.
Finally Patrick O'Doyle came around to the other side of his desk, and approached his son. For the first time in fifteen years, John looked his father in the eye, and this time he was not the first to look away.
"I am told I owe you my life," he said finally, in an abrupt manner. "So thank you."
He then turned around and went to open the door, but Patrick moved forward and grabbed his arm.
"John - wait - I would like to talk to you," he said.
John looked down at the hand on his arm, then back up into his father's eyes, and said through clenched teeth "Don't ever touch me again," and pulled his arm free. "We have nothing to talk about. I came to say thank- you, and that's it. I am going to visit Molly now, because it's not her fault she's related to you. But don't ever think that I have anything else to say to you, because I don't."
He flung the office door open, and strode out, ignoring the congregation of people standing outside, and headed for the lifts.
Rachel looked at Patrick, and smiled in sympathy.
"I'm sorry I didn't let you know he was coming," she said. "We got the invitation to Molly's birthday party - and he agreed to come - I was really surprised."
Patrick looked down at his hands, and smiled wryly.
"So am I," he said "I can't believe he came here. The gossips on my staff will have a field day. Hadn't you better catch up with him?"
"Well, he can't go far - I've got the keys to the hire car, and also to our hotel room," said Rachel, jingling the objects. "I thought it might be safer."
Patrick looked at her admiringly. "You cover all your bases, don't you," he said smiling properly at last. "Don't change, don't let him drive you away with his temper. As much as he will deny it, I can see he's a lot like me in that respect."
"Oh he doesn't scare me," she replied "And when he loses his temper, he gets over it very quickly. He's much more scared of me losing my temper, I assure you. I don't have this red hair for nothing!"
Patrick laughed out loud. "I'm sorry that we won't be able to get to know each other better. I think you are a fine addition to our family - such as it is."
"Why thank you," said Rachel. "We are going to see Molly now - if you happen to come home before we go, we might catch up again."
Patrick laughed again. "Maybe I will come home early. I sometimes do on a Friday afternoon. It would serve John right for coming in here and making a scene." And he kissed Rachel gently on the cheek. "Thank you for being there for him," he said, "And for causing him to come here, so I could see him whole and hearty again."
Thank you for reviews, you few who bother, they mean a lot to me. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, there are only another 2 or three chapters to go.
Rachel looked at John, as their hired car pulled up in front of the office complex. His face was very pale, and his jaw was tightly clenched. She could see a muscle jumping in his cheek. For one moment, she thought he wasn't going to get out of the car, but he did, and strode into the building, leaving her to lock the car. She caught up with him at the elevator, taking hold of his arm, and feeling the muscles beneath her hand tense and seem as hard as concrete to her touch.
He punched the button for the fifth floor, where the offices of O'Doyle & Co. were located, and leaned back on the back wall of the elevator, taking deep and measured breaths.
Rachel held onto his arm, trying to act casually. She knew he was nervous, but didn't know how he was going to react when face to face with the man he had hated for most of his life. She was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.
All the way to Boston in the plane, he had been quiet, and very tense. When they had arrived at their hotel, he had basically dumped the bags, and grabbed the car keys, wanting to get this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible. Rachel could tell he was getting more and more wound up, and hoped that this was not going to be a disaster!
When the elevator doors opened, he took one more deep breath, and strode out, and straight up to the reception desk, where two people were talking to a receptionist.
She looked up at John, then her jaw literally dropped as she took in his resemblance to her boss.
"O'Doyle," he barked at her, and she looked sideways at a closed door, then back at him.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, unable to believe her eyes.
"No," replied John, "But he will see me."
"Could I have your name," she replied, her hand hovering over her switchboard.
John hesitated for a moment, and glanced down at Rachel. "Grant," he said to the receptionist, "John Grant."
"Mr O'Doyle is in a meeting at the moment," she said primly, not understanding the tension in the man facing her. "Please take a seat, and I'll see if he can see you. Although it might be better if you were to make an appointment."
Rachel winced and held her breath; the situation was way out of her control now.
John leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "Is that his office in there?" he asked, pointing at the closed door to one side of the round reception desk.
"Yes," came the reply, "But as I said, Mr O'Doyle can't be disturbed right now. You will have to wait." She raised her voice as she spoke, and the two people leaning on the reception desk at the other end, straightened and looked towards them expectantly.
"Is there a problem?" asked one of the men, walking towards John and Rachel, and looking enquiringly at the receptionist.
"Not at all," replied John politely, and walking around the desk, strode towards the closed door, leaving everyone stunned in his wake. Rachel, the man who had come forward, and the receptionist all scurried along after him, but had no chance of stopping him, as he flung the door open, and walked into the office.
Three men were seated around a large and highly polished desk, and they all looked around in surprise when the door was so forceably opened, rising to their feet as one. Patrick O'Doyle was perhaps the most surprised, he started to say something, but the words died in his throat as he stared at the man in the doorway.
Rachel had by that time caught up with John, and tried to take his arm, but he shook her restraint off, and stepped further into the room. The receptionist also came into the room, looking as if she were going to cry.
"I'm sorry, Mr O'Doyle, but he just pushed past me and came in, I tried to stop him.."
"It's all right, Susan, everything's fine," said O'Doyle, when he could find his voice.
"Shall I call the police?" the receptionist named Susan asked, almost fearful of this angry looking young man, frightened he was going to harm her employer somehow. More people began gathering in the open doorway, crowding in behind Rachel.
This got John's attention. "I am the police," he said to her, more gently than before, and pulled out his FBI badge, but not taking his eyes from the man standing before him.
O'Doyle was still stunned, however he turned to the man standing next to him and shook his hand. "I'll need a moment, Ted," he said, "If you could all wait for me outside?"
Both men in the office began to leave, and the rest of the crowd began backing out. John never moved, and never dropped his gaze, the muscle in his cheek jumping again. Rachel moved to shut the door when everyone else had left, and still Patrick and John stared at each other.
Finally Patrick O'Doyle came around to the other side of his desk, and approached his son. For the first time in fifteen years, John looked his father in the eye, and this time he was not the first to look away.
"I am told I owe you my life," he said finally, in an abrupt manner. "So thank you."
He then turned around and went to open the door, but Patrick moved forward and grabbed his arm.
"John - wait - I would like to talk to you," he said.
John looked down at the hand on his arm, then back up into his father's eyes, and said through clenched teeth "Don't ever touch me again," and pulled his arm free. "We have nothing to talk about. I came to say thank- you, and that's it. I am going to visit Molly now, because it's not her fault she's related to you. But don't ever think that I have anything else to say to you, because I don't."
He flung the office door open, and strode out, ignoring the congregation of people standing outside, and headed for the lifts.
Rachel looked at Patrick, and smiled in sympathy.
"I'm sorry I didn't let you know he was coming," she said. "We got the invitation to Molly's birthday party - and he agreed to come - I was really surprised."
Patrick looked down at his hands, and smiled wryly.
"So am I," he said "I can't believe he came here. The gossips on my staff will have a field day. Hadn't you better catch up with him?"
"Well, he can't go far - I've got the keys to the hire car, and also to our hotel room," said Rachel, jingling the objects. "I thought it might be safer."
Patrick looked at her admiringly. "You cover all your bases, don't you," he said smiling properly at last. "Don't change, don't let him drive you away with his temper. As much as he will deny it, I can see he's a lot like me in that respect."
"Oh he doesn't scare me," she replied "And when he loses his temper, he gets over it very quickly. He's much more scared of me losing my temper, I assure you. I don't have this red hair for nothing!"
Patrick laughed out loud. "I'm sorry that we won't be able to get to know each other better. I think you are a fine addition to our family - such as it is."
"Why thank you," said Rachel. "We are going to see Molly now - if you happen to come home before we go, we might catch up again."
Patrick laughed again. "Maybe I will come home early. I sometimes do on a Friday afternoon. It would serve John right for coming in here and making a scene." And he kissed Rachel gently on the cheek. "Thank you for being there for him," he said, "And for causing him to come here, so I could see him whole and hearty again."
Thank you for reviews, you few who bother, they mean a lot to me. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, there are only another 2 or three chapters to go.