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I do not own these characters, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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AN: Just a fluffy little 'rainy day on the porch' ditty I cooked up as a sort of sequel to the first chapter, which was written many seasons ago. This new installment is from Stan Lisbon's daughter's point of view. I hope it makes you smile.
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I've gotta be the happiest kid ever. I'm riding in a car with my favorite aunt – the one who just happens to be a real live FBI special agent. Just the two of us. Look at me, Chicago! Is this awesome or what?
When Dad told me Aunt Teresa and Uncle Patrick were coming to visit for Easter, I jumped up and down for five minutes, 'cause I have so much fun when they're here. Uncle Patrick does all kinds of tricks for us and Aunt Teresa is the coolest aunt in the universe. (and the universe is a very, very big place – Mrs. Evans, my 3rd grade teacher said so)
We just got out of Easter mass, and Mom and Dad had to stop by the grocery to get something they forgot for the cookout, so I asked if I could ride home with Aunt Teresa. They said 'yes' and so did she, and here I am, riding shotgun for a totally badass (I'm not supposed to say that, shhhh) FBI agent. Which is even more important than a regular cop. That's what my friend Sarah says, anyway, and her dad's a lawyer so she knows.
It's just the two of us on account of Uncle Patrick having to stay home with Peter, their little boy. He's not quite two, and he's getting his big molar teeth. Aunt Teresa says he has his father's tolerance for pain, whatever that means, and she said he was awake on and off all night. So, Uncle Patrick and Peter got to stay home from church at our house and rest.
(I might try that sometime when I lose a tooth. Church isn't that bad, but these stupid girly shoes make blisters on my heels. Aunt Teresa never wears stupid girly shoes, I tell my mom, but she makes me wear them anyway. I think it's because I'm the only girl kid.)
To tell the truth, I don't think Uncle Patrick was going to go to church anyway, because I heard Mom and Dad talking one night, and mom said he wasn't religious. I think that means you don't have to go to church.
Last summer I got to go visit Aunt Teresa and Uncle Patrick all by myself. They invited me and I flew in an airplane all the way to Texas and got to stay at their house for a few days. (We never went to church, and I was there on two different Sundays.) They have a pond and ducks and a rowboat, and sometimes I wish I could live with them all the time – but then I feel bad, because I love Mom and Dad. And my brothers. I guess. Peter is a lucky kid, that's all I've got to say. I try not to be jealous because mom says that's a sin, but it's hard.
Today though, I have Aunt Teresa all to myself for a little bit, and I'm going to make the best of it.
"Aunt Teresa?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"When I get old enough to babysit, I'll come to your house and do it for free if you let me. Mom says I have to be fourteen to babysit, so that's just six years from now. I mean it, I wouldn't charge you at all."
She laughs. "We might just take you up on that, Annie."
I sure hope so. She and Uncle Patrick come to Chicago about twice a year now, so I will remind her every time I see her.
"Aunt T, does Uncle Patrick believe in God?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"I heard Mom and Dad talking one night."
"What did they say?"
"Mom was worried, because she said Patrick wasn't religious. I mean, I know she likes him, but she thinks he should go to church. She said something about 'sparity cults' and bishops."
"What did your dad say?"
"He said as long as he treats his sister nice and that you are happy, he thought we should mind our own business."
She smiles, and laughs a little. "Your dad is right, honey. I believe in God, but I think that is a choice you can only make for yourself, and not for someone else, no matter how much you love them."
"I believe in God. And Uncle Patrick is an awfully nice man, so I think God might let him into heaven anyway."
She laughs again. "Me too, sweetie, me too."
"You all catch a lot of bad people, don't you?"
"Yes, we do. Actually, Patrick only works part time now, but we've taken a lot of bad guys down over the years."
"So you knew each other for a long time before you got married, right? How come? I mean, how come you didn't get married earlier?"
"Before that we were friends, but things were complicated and we weren't free to date."
That sounds an awful lot to me like the mumbo jumbo adults say when they think you're not old enough to understand. That really bugs me. I mean, I'm eight! I'm not a little kid. "Why not?" I ask. (Gotta go for it, my dad would say.)
"Well, we…oh look, we're here!"
Bad timing. She's pulling the car into our driveway. I'll ask another day.
"Thanks for letting me ride with you. Sarah Bently will be jealous I got to ride all over Chicago with an FBI agent who carries a gun and everything."
"Not to church."
"Well, yeah, I know. But usually."
As we get out of the car, Aunt T says, "Okay, Annie, let's be quiet when we go in just in case Peter is asleep. Shhh." She puts her finger up to her mouth. Jeez, I know what 'quiet' means, but I don't say anything. I may have asked too many questions already.
I tiptoe really quiet-like, just like she wants. We sneak in the front door, and I wonder if this is how she sneaks up on the bad guys. We glance into the living room, and sure enough, she was right.
Uncle Patrick is lying on his back on the couch, and Peter is sprawled face down on top of him. They're both sound asleep. I gotta admit, they're kinda cute. Peter looks a lot like his dad, too. He has curly dark hair, not blond, but their mouths look exactly the same. And their eyes are alike. Bluegreen and very smart.
Aunt Teresa chuckles to herself. She's so pretty when she smiles, especially for someone who shoots bad guys. My mom is always fussing about how the women cops on TV look too pretty to be cops, but then I remind her about the girl cop in our own family. Score one for me, right?
Meanwhile, Aunt T motions for me to stay here, and she takes out her phone and slips into the room to take a picture of them while they're asleep. She stands still for an extra minute after, and before she turns back around to face me, she wipes at her eyes. When she finally turns, I can see she cried a little but doesn't want me to notice, so I act like I didn't see.
"C'mon, Annie, why don't we go get the potato salad started?" she whispers. "Would you help me?"
I take her outstretched hand. Wow. A badass cop who even knows how to cook. How cool is that? When we get into the kitchen she stops for a minute.
"Just a sec, I need to send this picture to someone."
"Who?"
"A guy who used to work with us. His name is Wayne."
When we're done with the potato salad (I got to add the mayonnaise and squish the eggs), her phone buzzes on the counter.
When she checks it, I know it's rude, but I can't resist looking over her arm to see what it says.
Hey, Grace here. You made Wayne sniffle a little with that picture, Teresa. He told me the story. Everything's full circle, isn't it?
Aunt Teresa texts back. We're very happy. Come and visit us soon.
Will do. Thanks for the picture.
All of a sudden I hear our front door open, and my dad's voice.
"Oh no, my brothers will wake them up!" I say to Aunt Teresa. But I shouldn't have worried. I look up to see Uncle Patrick standing in the kitchen doorway holding Peter. Patrick looks woozy, kind of like my dad when he drinks a lot of beer.
Just then my brothers come running into the kitchen like wild animals, and Peter giggles at their antics with a big smile. Uncle Patrick's face lights up with a huge smile as well – both he and Peter have that kind of grin that pretty much forces you to smile, too, whenever you see it.
Aunt Teresa gives me a little hug. "Thanks for helping me, Annie. Now lets go hide some eggs for your brothers to find, what do you say?"
What do I say? I'm the luckiest kid on the planet. And for that, I am thankful.
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Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading.