Author's Note: I Edited Chapter 2 Slightly, so that Hugh is in second grade,and that the kid's mom is not in Idaho, but in a Federal Prison in LA.

At Alan's suggestion, Charlie asked the boy the following night at dinner, "Are there any sports that you like? I was thinking of signing you up for one."

"Soccer," the boy said.

"Fine. I'll see about signing you up with AYSO," Charlie said

"Okay," Hugh said, and then changed the subject. "Could you mail something for me?"

"Sure."

"It's a letter for my mom."

"Alright," Charlie nodded. "I'll drop it off tomorrow."

"Thanks."

After dinner, Hugh did his homework on the dining room table, while Amita graded quizzes across the way from him. Charlie watched a game with his father.

All too often, Hugh's mind wandered, and before he knew it, he remembered the night his world changed forever.

He had woken up from an odd dream, and now wanted to go to the bathroom, but resisted going as he was sleepy and the bed was cozy. He tried to get back to sleep, but the urgency finally won out. Reluctantly, he got out of bed and sleepily walked towards the bathroom, when he heard the front door of the apartment slam open.

"FBI!" someone yelled. Others followed the figure into the room where his mother slept, yelling, "FBI! Don't move." Soon, they all came out, with his mother, hands behind her back.

She turned to him. "Honey! It'll be okay."

Alan interrupted his thoughts, "Aren't you gonna finish your homework?"

"Yeah...," Hugh quickly replied.

"It's not gonna finish itself," Alan reminded him, as he went into the kitchen proper to get a beer.

Hugh worked on homework for a while, but then decided to eat an apple. So he went to get one from the fruit basket, as well as a large knife. For as long as he could remember his mother had sliced the apples for him, and so that's the way he preferred to eat them. As he cut the first slice, he wistfully thought of how nicely his mother's slices came out when he felt a pain on his finger while trying to cut a second slice, causing him to yell out.

The three adults ran in. Alan, without a word, got the boy's hand, and wrapped it in paper towels. Blood seeped all over.

"Charlie! Get the car ready!" Alan ordered. "Amita! Get me some towels!"

The couple obeyed him. Alan wrapped Hugh's hand with the towels, and led him towards Charlie's car. They went to the Emergency Room of the nearest hospital. After checking in and some waiting, they were led to a bed with curtains around it. Then, a nurse had Hugh soak his finger in some solution.

"It's to clean out the wound," the nurse said. Finally, after another while, the doctor, a middle aged man, came in.

"Hello, I'm ." He introduced himself and looked at the chart, then the boy. "And you're Hugh?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I cut my finger."

"He apparently was trying to cut an apple with a large knife," Alan told the doctor.

The doctor looked at the wound; it looked as if the boy had almost sliced off part of his left index finger. Charlie cringed inwardly, as did Amita.

"This will need a few stitches, but he'll be fine," the doctor assured them and turned to Hugh. "I'm going to give you an injection so that it won't hurt to put on the stitches."

"Okay."

"The shot itself will hurt a little bit. I'll need you to be brave."

"Okay."

Hugh winced as the doctor injected him with the local anesthetic, but almost managed to stay still during the stitching.

Afterward, the doctor told the three adults, "The nurse will come by to tell you how to take care and dress the wound. Have a nice evening." The doctor left.

As they waited for the nurse, Alan told Hugh, "The next time you want an apple cut, let one of us know, alright?"

"Yes Grandpa."

"You're lucky you didn't slice the whole finger off!" Alan said.

"You really need to be careful with knives in general," Charlie said.

After the nurse gave them the needed instructions, they left for home. Thankfully, Charlie, after much effort, had managed to get Hugh into his insurance.

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Later that night, the couple talked in bed.

"That was one of the most frightening experiences of my life!" Charlie lay back on his pillow.

"Good thing your dad was there," Amita said. "He knew just what to do."

"He sure least it wasn't too serious," Charlie remarked.

Amita thought of something. "We could get an apple slicer."

"That's a great idea."

The two talked a bit more about various things, and then eventually, the subject of Hugh's education came up.

"We should consider enrolling Hugh in private school?" Amita remarked

"The school Hugh is going to is pretty good," Charlie shrugged.

"He could go to a better school," Amita said. "We need to push him so that he'll improve his grades."

"I went to public school," Charlie pointed out.

"But had private tutors," Amita countered. "I've done some research and found some private, non religious schools, within half an hour of here, that score much better than Hugh's school."

"Let me see your research, and in the meantime, we can push Hugh to do better at school."

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Sarah kindly offered to keep taking Hugh to visit his mother at Metropolitan Detention Center in Los Angeles. Amita quickly agreed to keep peace, though Charlie decided to visit her one day.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Charlie demanded, as they, for the first time in years, saw each other face to face. Rose had some fine lines, and the orange suit contrasted with her blue eyes. Her hair was very short.

"I didn't think you were up to it," she told him frankly. "You were so involved in your little ivory tower, and could barely cope with your mother's illness."

"I would have stepped up to the plate!" Chalrie argued. "I had a right to know."

"Charlie, I understood when you first came crying to me, but then I'd wake up to find you writing some math mumbo jumbo on my paper towels!"

"I was under a lot of stress, granted, but..."

"But nothing. Hugh needed someone who was with him then!"

"How about a mother who wasn't a con artist, huh?" Charlie snapped, having read her file. "Or didn't make him pretend to be autistic in order to make a buck?"

"I've been a good mother to him. He never lacked for love, food, or shelter!"

"He pretended to have cancer in order to sell more lemonade!"

"And has since faced the consequences," she told him.

"No thanks to you!" Charlie said, got up and angrily left.

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After a few weeks, the couple went to talk with Hugh's teacher, Ms. Katz at the latter's classroom.

After the usual introductions, Charlie asked, "How is Hugh doing?"

"Well, he's a smart boy," the teacher began. "But he needs to improve in some areas."

"Such as?" Charlie asked.

She replied, "He can express his ideas in a grade appropriate way, but seems to have trouble with spelling."

"What can we do to help him?" Charlie scratched his nose.

"Check his homework. Test him with the weekly vocabulary words."

"Anything else?" Amita asked.

"Take him to the library and encourage him to check out books."

"We can do that," Charlie agreed.

The teacher continued, "Sometimes he doesn't pay attention in class. Yesterday, I caught him writing a letter to his mother during the math lesson." She took out a paper from a drawer.

"His mother is in jail," Charlie admitted. "We only recently gained custody of Hugh."

"That explains a lot. Take a look at the letter."

Dear Mom:

I can't wate for Chrismas. I am gonna ask Santa for a TV for my room.

Amita said, "We'll talk to him about paying attention in class."

"He really needs to put in more effort here at school," Ms. Katz said.

"We'll see to it that he does," Charlie promised.

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When they returned to the house, Alan, looking up from his paper, asked, "Hugh is in the shower. How did it go?"

"His spelling needs work and he sometimes doesn't pay attention," Charlie sighed.

"He was caught writing a letter to his mother during class," Amita added. "He expects Santa to give him a TV for his room.."

"We'll have to get a Christmas tree," Charlie realized.

"But get him something else. He's too young to have a TV in his room," Amita said.

"I agree," Alan nodded. "What about a bike?"

"That's a great idea," Amita smiled. "We'll leave a note from Santa saying that he's too young for a TV in his room."

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When Hugh came out of the shower, Charlie checked his homework in the living room, after a short lecture on paying attention in class

"This book report is too short," Charlie told his son. "And you misspelled a few things."

"The book was stupid," the boy said as if that explained everything.

"At least say why it was stupid," Charlie said.

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Amita and Charlie celebrated their anniversary by going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant alone, while Alan stayed with Hugh.

As they waited for their dinner, Charlie said, "Thank you."

"For?"

"Being there, and helping me with Hugh. I know that he was more than you signed up for when you married me."

"I signed up to stay with you through everything," Amita reminded him.

The sommelier interrupted them to offer the wine list and make recommendations.

"So many choices," Charlie mused. "Why don't you pick one, Amita?"

"Sure," Amita said and did so.

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After dinner, they went to a hotel, where they would spend the night.

"Alone at last!" Charlie said, after they checked in.

Amita just smiled at him as they waited for the elevator.

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For Halloween, Hugh dressed as a wizard, with a blue robe,and pointy hat. Charlie took him trick or treating. When they got home, the boy tried to grab a candy, but was stopped by Alan's firm hand grabbing his.

"Let your father check it first."

"Why?" the boy asked, puzzled.

"There could be razors in the candy."

"That's an urban myth, Dad," Charlie scoffed.

"Where there's smoke, there's fire!" Alan countered, and took some of the candy out. "I'll check it myself."

Amita looked up from an astrophysics paper she was revising for publication. "You can only have five pieces, Hugh."

Hugh protested vehemently, "I want it all! I earned it!"

Charlie scolded the boy, "Don't take that tone with Amita!"

"For that, you'll only take three pieces," Alan added. "Once I check them, of course."

"Grandpa, you said that it's not good to waste stuff," the little boy said.

"It's not good to waste food," Alan corrected him.

"Candy can be dumped," Amita said.

"Maybe you could have two a day?" Alan suggested.

"Can I send some to my mom?"

"Sure," Charlie agreed.

"Can you take my picture, Dad? So I can send it to my mom too?"

"Let me get the camera," Charlie said and went to his and Amita's room.

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At Amita's behest, Charlie had the boy go to a psychologist, Dr. Brenner, once a week. Soon, the couple was asked to see her themselves for a session.

They all sat in an ample room with a couch and a chair. The couple sat on the couch.

"As I mentioned before, I like to speak with the parents or guardians of my younger patients," Christine began. Her black hair was tied up, and she wore a gray skirt with a red shirt with short puffy sleeves.

"I admit, it was quite a change," Amita said. "We went from being a newly wedded couple, to being parents to a young boy all in one swoop."

"My dad's been a great help to us," Charlie added.

"Hugh's adjusting pretty well, I think," Amita said, "Though he really misses his mother."

Charlie said, "We're having a Christmas tree at our home for the very first time for Hugh's sake."

"According to the form you filled out, you're concerned as to how Hugh is coping with his mother's incarceration, and some behavioral issues?" the therapist asked.

"That's right," Amita nodded. "He's been through so much recently, between his mother getting arrested, and living with a dad he just met..."

"Those are quite a few changes," the therapist agreed.

"He tried to sell pencils full of glitter at school," Charlie added. "He charged two bucks each for them."

"Sounds like he has en entrepreneurial spirit," Brenner said. "He just choose the wrong place to manifest it in."

"He lied to me!" Charlie argued. "Telling me that he needed those pencils, and overcharged for them."

"He's also pretended to have cancer while running a lemonade stand," Amita pointed out.

"Now that's not right," the therapist agreed. "And it's definitely learned."

"His mother was a con artist," Charlie explained. "That's why she's in jail. She must have taught him that pretending to have cancer was okay."

"How was he punished?"

"At the time he was living with his aunt, who made him apologize to the neighbors and go to the children's ward of a hospital," Amita replied.

"Sounds reasonable," Brenner said. "How's he doing at school?"

"He sometimes doesn't pay attention in class," Amita said, "and needs to improve his spelling."

"He's capable of better grades," Charlie added.

"He does seem like a smart boy," the therapist remarked.

"My wife and I check his homework every day," Charlie said. "To make sure he did it right."

"That's a good way to make sure he does well at school," the therapist approved.

"Is there anything else we could do?" Amita asked.

"Encourage him to read a lot. That will help him in many areas."

"My father plays Scrabble with him," Charlie said. "And I made him a couple of math video games."

"You made him video games?" the therapist repeated.

"One of my PhDs is in Computer Science," Charlie explained.

"I see. What's the other one in?"

"Math," Charlie answered. "My wife has two PhDs as well."

"Computer Science and Astrophysics," Amita added. "We both teach and consult."

"So your schedules are pretty stable then?" Christine asked.

"It depends on whether we have consulting work or not," Amita said. "We've got my father-in-law to help us."

"How's it been for both of you? Balancing work and Hugh?"

"Tricky at times, but we're managing fine," Amita said. "Hugh's not a baby so that makes things a bit easier."

"How are you two bonding with him?"

"It's taken a bit, but we're progressing," Charlie said.

The trio talked some more until time ran out.

TBC