Took a break from writing the next chapter of "Late" in order to finish writing this chapter. It's three hours to 2013 here in Queensland, Australia, so I'll go ahead and wish you all a Happy New Year!

Chapter 20

Before Grandma Mazur could either confirm or deny my mother's actions all those many years ago, Lester's cell phone chirped from his belt. He apologised for the interruption and made his way outside to answer it, but the moment he was out of sight my own cell rang out from my handbag. Something was clearly happening. With a sigh, I dug it out and noted Carlos's number displayed on the read out.

"What's up?" I said by way of greeting. "Lester's phone went off moments before mine. I figure this is something big."

"Brodie's car blew up," he informed me.

I was glad I was sitting down, since a wave of dizziness washed over me at his words. At once I was both worried for my possible half brother and relieved that for once it wasn't my own car. Perhaps the bad car karma was genetic after all. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake? My mother was always harping on at me about my explosions and other unfortunate disasters that plagued my – and by extension, her – life. What if it turned out that she actually had two such 'accident prone' offspring. Of course, I'd still be the screw up, since Brodie actually seemed to have a respectable job, whereas I was still working within the Bounty Huntering system. Although, there was still the fact that she'd given him up. Perhaps that will work in my favour, allowing me to not be the least favourite child anymore. Then again, maybe she regretted not knowing him all his life, in which case he would be sky rocketed to favourite and I would stay at the bottom of the pile.

Shaking my head to get rid of the thoughts – really, I was thirty six, much too old to be worrying about which of my siblings is mother's favourite – I asked Carlos, "Is he alright? Was anyone hurt? He wasn't in the car at the time, was he?"

"Not in it, no," he answered selectively. "How's your talk with Grandma?"

"We were just about to get to the part where Grandma told me who Brodie belongs to," I told him. "Don't change the subject, was he hurt?"

"He's definitely looked better," he sighed. "Maybe you should bring Grandma over to the hotel."

I rolled my eyes, causing Grandma to chuckle lightly. "And have the cops assume I had some connection to it? No thank you."

"The cops are already here, Babe," he said.

"Fine," I sighed, shifting a little in my chair. "Which hotel? I'll grab Lester and we'll be right over."

"No need, Beautiful," Lester announced, returning to my side. "I've got the deets and my marching orders. You lovely ladies ready to get going? Unfortunately, we don't have time to grab marshmallows for toasting, but I'm sure you can make your own fun once we get there."

"See you soon, Babe," Carlos said in my ear, sounding amused just before the dial tone sounded.

As I dropped the phone back into my purse I met Grandma's gaze. "Would you mind coming with us to check on a little car explosion?" I asked.

She was on her feet before I finished the question, heading for the door leaving Lester and I to trail behind her. "Been a while since I seen a blown up car," she was saying as we reached the bottom of the ramp and she had to pause to try to locate the car. "Last one I even heard about was... actually, that's a bad example, I heard about your car blowing up the other day. Where's the black SUV? I don't see it anywhere?"

"We're in the Porsche," Lester told her, barely containing his excitement, scooting past me to lead the way. "Ranger's letting us drive it since Steph needs the low slungness for ease of access. Isn't that awesome?"

It took no time at all for Lester to get Grandma situated in the back seat and my chair stowed in the trunk. Once he was behind the wheel he looked over his shoulder to the old woman fondling the leather of the seats. "So, I don't mean to press the topic, but before we were interrupted you were about to confirm or deny whether Brodie is Steph's half brother. I'd really like it if we could pick that conversation back up where we left off."

"You sure don't beat around the bush, do you?" Grandma asked Lester as he pulled the car away from the curb.

"No ma'am," he agreed.

"Well, alright." She paused a moment, apparently gathering her thoughts before she spoke again. "What you need to understand about your mother is that she wasn't always such a stick in the mud. When she was in high school she was a bit of a wild child. It all your Granpa and I could do to make sure she didn't make too many stupid mistakes. And then she met Kendrick McKenna. A college exchange student from Scotland. He was suave and exotic and Helen was completely taken with him. We tried to keep tabs on her, but there's only so much you can do with a teenage daughter, you know? Next thing we knew, Helen was six months pregnant and there was nothing we could do about it. Kendrick promised to look after Helen and the baby both, but she wouldn't have anything to do with him."

Lester and I shared a look, and I'm sure we were both thinking the same thing, that it sounded very much like my mother, but we said nothing, allowing Grandma to continue.

"When the baby was born she insisted that she didn't want it. She spoke about giving it up for adoption. Your grandfather tried to talk her out of it for weeks until Kendrick finally came to us with a solution. He said he hated to think of the baby in an orphanage, so he offered to take the child. He promised to take care of it and give it the best life he could."

"And you agreed to it?" I asked.

"We weren't happy about it, but as you know now, a parent will do anything to keep their child happy. So we agreed to it."

"And Mom?"

"She was happy so long as she never had to see either of them again. And she made a complete turnaround once they were gone."

"So she went from being wild and out of control to being, well, Mom just like that?"

"Pretty much," Grandma said, staring out the window. We were all silent for a while as I tried to come up with some kind of comment. For my entire life I'd assumed that my mother had always been the way she has been with me. Morally superior and disapproving of everything. As it turned out she was just as much a screw up as I was. Worse, because I never managed to get pregnant when I was high school.

"So who's car blew up?" Grandma asked suddenly, bringing to my attention that I hadn't actually mentioned that we were going to check on Brodie.

"It's, uh...," I muttered. "It's Brodie. Brodie McKenna."

"I'm going to meet my first grandson?" Grandma said, sounding rather disbelieving. "It's a good thing I'm dressed nice on account of I was planning on going to a viewing."

"Uh, Grandma," I said, interrupting her flow of mild excitement as we pulled into the crowded parking lot behind a marked cop car. "There's something you should probably know about Brodie."

"He's not a telemarketer, is he?" she asked distractedly. One hand was on the release for the back door as she peered out the window curiously. "I hate them telemarketers. They always call when you're sitting down to dinner. Don't they know it's not nice to interrupt an old woman's evening meal?"

Lester sent me a look like he was trying not to laugh before slipping from his seat and moving around the back of the car to retrieve my wheelchair. I attempted to turn further around in my seat so that I could see Grandma more clearly, hoping that the eye contact achieved would lessen the blow of what I was about to tell her. "He was told that when his mother died-."

"Helen didn't die," Grandma pointed out. "She dropped me at the funeral parlour this morning on her way to the grocery store."

"I know," I sighed. "But he was told his mother died of complications after he was born," explained. "He was also told that his grandparents wanted nothing to do with and sent him home to Scotland with his father."

"That's nonsense," Grandma exclaimed as Lester began setting up the wheelchair beside the car. "Of course we didn't want to send him away! We loved him!"

"I thought as much," I said. "I couldn't picture you disowning a little baby. But that's what he was told, so be prepared for him to not be all warm and fuzzy toward you when I mention you're my... our grandma."

"Right." She sounded nonplussed, but there wasn't anything else I could do at this point in time.

"And we haven't exactly mentioned to him our suspicions that he is probably – well, now that we have your confirmation, definitely – my brother, so just be patient until we get to that, okay?"

Before she could respond, Lester opened my door, placing both hands flat on the roof of the car and leaning down to look in at us. "Ready to go, ladies?"

"Sure, why not?" Grandma and I said in a rare moment of unison. While she climbed out the back door, Lester stepped aside to allow me to pull myself from the car into a standing position. I made a little half turn, holding onto the top of the door in a tight grip, to scope out the distance to the wheelchair. It was only a few feet away, but it was a few feet of open ground. Nothing to hold on to. Nothing to lean on. Just the blacktop waiting to catch me when I inevitably fell. I locked eyes with Lester, sending him my I-know-what-you're-up-to face and gestured for him to get his butt over here and help me out if he was going to insist on leaving the chair that far away.

"Lieutenant Dan!" a familiar accented voice called from nearby as I shuffled my away across the small space. "You got new legs!"

Lester and I paused in our progress to glance over toward the ambulance where Brodie sat with his arm in a sling and green whistle little tube in one hand. A couple of uniform cops were standing right beside him, clearly attempting to get a statement, while the paramedic tried to get the green thing out of his hand as he waved it around. I had a feeling he was on painkillers and not entirely with it at that moment. Lester let out a bark of laughter and urged me toward the chair once more.

"Did he just call me Lieutenant Dan?" I asked Lester under my breath. "He seems a little... off today, doesn't he?"

"That's a green whistle," he informed me. "It contains a particularly strong painkiller." I sent him a questioning look, wondering how he knew such things. "Bobby has some in his office," he explained. "I've witnessed its use before. Pretty funny."

"And I'm planning on introducing him to my grandmother, who also happens to be his grandmother," I added, a hint of sarcasm creeping into my tone. "This should run smoothly enough."

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