Authors' Note: Thank you for joining us for this story of how some of our favorite Emergency characters might have met their significant others! This story of Mike Morton is a little different than the rest. We hope you will enjoy the twist! This is the last of these little stories that katbybee and I have written together, so I will be marking this complete. But who's to say we won't have more inspiration down the road that would lead to adding another chapter?
Thank you, kat, for writing these stories with me! What fun we had with all our plotting! Who knew a malfunctioning water heater could be the source of so much inspiration?
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Princess Prissy
October 1963
Priscilla Gibbons held the mic in her hands, waiting until every eye was on her. She reveled in the attention, but there was one set of eyes in particular she wanted to turn her way. Mike Morton. He was handsome and popular, a senior pre-med student at Stanford, and every girl on campus hoped to catch his eye. She hadn't met him yet, but Priscilla had baited her hook and was all ready to reel him in. As soon as he glanced her way, she raised the mic to her lips, motioned to the pianist, and began to sing "The Nearness of You," working her dusky contralto. She kept her eyes fastened on Mike, intending every word for him.
He stood staring at her, his mouth open just a bit, a glimmer of admiration in his dark eyes. Just the reaction she wanted. Her gaze followed him as he began working his way through the crowd, deftly sidestepping people to get closer to the stage. Good — that meant he wanted to be closer to her, probably wanted to talk to her when the set ended. She crooned the last note of the song, her eyes still on him, and then blew him a kiss. Ah, this was perfect. He looked totally mesmerized.
Priscilla knew how to use her looks to the best advantage. She was only medium height, but she kept a slim figure. Her deep copper skin and glossy black hair that fell in curls around her shoulders tended to draw mens' attention her way wherever she went. She blinked her chocolate eyes at Mike and could practically see the shivers run down his spine. He pushed past the last of the crowd.
As the last note faded, Priscilla set the microphone back in its stand. She tilted her head and smiled as her audience applauded. This song was the last in the set. She would take a short break now and then return to the stage. Her job at Sal's Tavern was tiring, but it was helping get her through college. And besides, it was good experience. She would get her bachelor's degree in English to satisfy her mother, but what she really wanted was to see her name in lights.
"I'll be back for another set in fifteen minutes," she told the crowd, and then she stepped down from the stage. This time, she directed her gaze past Mike. She wanted him to approach her. She swung her hips as she walked past him, hoping he'd follow her to the bar, maybe even offer to buy her a drink. She found a seat with an empty spot right next to it and made herself comfortable.
A few seconds later, he filled that empty spot. "I don't know which dazzles me more," he said, "your beauty or your talent. That last number was fantastic. May I buy you a drink?"
"I'd love one, thanks." She turned so that her gaze could meet his. "You choose for me."
"Do you want something alcoholic or not?"
She thought for a moment, her forehead puckering. "Well, I am working. So probably better not right now." Then she lifted an eyebrow. "Later, though…"
He smiled. "Then how about a couple of Cokes with lime? I don't need the alcohol, either. I can wait." He ordered their drinks.
"Sounds lovely. Thanks." She reached to stroke her thumb along his hand. "I'm Priscilla Gibbons. And you're Michael Morton."
"My friends call me Mike, and I knew your name from the sign at the entrance. Your photograph doesn't do you justice. But, how did you know my name?"
She offered him a demure smile. "All the girls on campus are buzzing about Mike Morton." Then she leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "And you're more handsome than any of them said you were."
He shrugged, blushing slightly. "I'm not sure what the fuss is, I'm just a pre-med student working as a lowly orderly at the hospital to pay my way."
"A handsome pre-med student. Top of his class. Going to be a rich doctor someday." She fluttered her eyelashes"Not that I care about the last bit." Well, that was a lie. She loved that last bit.
The waitress brought their drinks, shooting Prissy a dirty look behind Mike's back. Prissy took advantage of him looking away to stick her tongue out at the girl.
"So, Mike." Priscilla sipped her Coke. "Where are you from?"
"Chicago. My father owns a restaurant there."
"I like Chicago." She took another sip. "You ever eat at the Berghoff?"
Mike shook his head. "No, but I've heard the food's good."
"Now…" She walked her fingers up his arm. "How can any self-respecting Chicagoan not have eaten schnitzel at the Berghoff?"
It was Mike's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Dad didn't want us to enrich the competition?" He smiled, and his dimples flashed briefly as his eyes sparked at her.
Before Priscilla could respond, a voice shouted across the noise of the crowd. "Is there a Mike Morton here? You've got a call!"
Mike shouted back, "Tell 'em I'll be right there." He looked at Priscilla. "I'm sorry. That's gotta be the hospital. I'm on call and probably have to report to work." He gathered his things and tossed some money on the table for their drinks.
Priscilla pouted and ran a finger down the side of his face. "But we were just getting to know each other."
"I know, and I'm sorry. Let me take the call and see what's happening. If I can come back I will."
"Wait!" She grabbed a napkin and a pencil from the bar and scrawled her number on it. "Take this." Then she gave a sly smile and a wink. "Call me sometime. I have to go start my next set anyway."
"Okay, it was nice to meet you. Good-bye Priscilla!" Mike turned and hurried towards the payphone.
"Goodbye, Mike." She watched him all the way to the phone before finishing her drink and pushing the empty glass aside. Even without the alcohol, she was feeling a little high. Embarking on a new conquest always had that effect on her.
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Mike had carefully avoided romantic entanglements throughout his first three years of college. Oh, he'd had a date or two, but he'd never let it get serious with anyone. He focused his whole attention on school, work, and on Navy ROTC. That's how he'd managed to stay at the top of his class in a demanding academic environment. But that was before he met Priscilla at the beginning of his senior year. None of those other girls could hold a candle to her. Once he started dating her, he couldn't get enough.
Mike was in awe of Priscilla. Her graceful movements, the sound of his name on her tongue, the coy smiles and flirtatious glances. Every so often, he heard rumors that she was seeing other fellows too, but he dismissed them. He was head-over-heels for her and she said she loved him, and that was enough for Mike.
There was only one problem — academically, senior year was far more intense than the first three years had been. He made it through fall and winter quarters with flying colors, but if he wasn't careful, he was going to fall flat on his face in the spring. He would graduate in June, and he was determined to do so at the top of his class. That meant hard work. He needed to cut back on his time with Priscilla so he could focus on his studies. He knew that would not sit well with her, but there was nothing he could do about it. On a Friday morning in mid-April, he picked up the phone and dialed her number. He had three tests coming up next week and, as much as it pained him, he needed to cancel their weekend plans so that he could hit the books.
"Mike, I don't believe you want to stay home and study!" Priscilla snapped over the phone line after he'd laid it all out for her. "Are you seeing someone else? I thought you said you loved me!"
He blinked, not believing his ears. "W-what? No! I'm struggling to stay on top of my classes! I went out with you every night this week and now I have to study or I'll fail my exams next week. Don't you need to study too?" He was angry, and he made sure she knew it. "And by the way, the fact you think I'm seeing someone else says a lot! I do love you!"
When she started sobbing, he instantly regretted his harsh tone. "I just want to see you, Mikey! Don't yell at me!" The next sound Mike heard was a click as she hung up on him and the line went dead. He sat at his desk, head in his hands. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on advanced anatomy when she did this to him?
The next day, Mike's older brother — a student at Stanford's business school — called him. "Hey, Mike, are you still seeing that Miss Priss?"
Mike shook his head, even though his brother couldn't see it. "George, don't call her that. Yes, I am."
"She's bad for you, Mike. We've all seen it."
Mike rolled his eyes. George always thought he knew better than Mike what was good for him. "Look, we've had this conversation a dozen times. I know what I'm doing."
"Listen, little brother. You need to know about the rumors. She's not just two-timing you, man. She's up to five or six-timing you!"
In his heart, Mike knew this was likely true, but he wasn't about to admit it to anyone, especially George, their Father's Golden Child. "George, you know why they call them rumors? Because that's all they are. Stories people tell with no basis in fact. Now, I've gotta pull an all-nighter if I'm gonna make straight As. I gotta get off the phone."
George finally let the subject of Priscilla go, but he wouldn't let Mike off the hook yet. "Dad wanted me to ask if you've considered his offer? He says if you drop this ROTC nonsense and agree to attend culinary school, he'll pay your tuition, rent, everything."
Mike was seething, but he managed to keep his cool. "I already told him no way. I don't want to be his head chef. You know I hate cooking, George. And I made a promise when ROTC agreed to pay my tuition. I'm going to keep it. They've approved me to go on to medical school after I graduate from here. That's big, George. Do you know how few people make the cut?"
George was quiet for a second. Then, with a sigh, he said, "Fine. You know, Mike, this is supposed to be the family business. Dad put a lot into it for us."
Mike snorted. "Yeah, some family. I don't need you and Dad planning my life for me. You know medicine is the one thing I've always wanted to pursue."
"Even if Dad disowns you?"
"He already did that, even if he didn't come right out and say it." Mike couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone. "Now, listen. I really gotta get back to studying, or all my grand plans won't matter anyway."
With that, the call ended.
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On Sunday afternoon, Priscilla swallowed her pride and called Mike. "I'm so sorry, Mikey. I should never have said what I did. I trust you. I just miss you. You're always busy, and when I do see you, it seems like you're only thinking about school."
Mike sighed heavily. "I'm sorry too. You're right — it isn't fair to you. Look, I'm not working tonight, and I really need a break. How would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?"
"Yes, please. I'd like that. Can we go to Allegro's?" It was the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in town, and Priscilla had always wanted to eat there.
Mike was quiet for a moment. She thought she heard some reluctance when he answered, but he said the words she longed to hear. "Sure. I'll call and see if I can get a reservation. Is seven okay?"
She was so pleased, she pumped a fist in the air. "Seven is perfect. You'll pick me up?"
"Yeah. I'll see you at about 6:15."
"All right. Bye. See you then." Smiling, Priscilla hung up the phone, then went to look through her closet and find the perfect outfit for the evening. She was going to knock his socks off and make sure he never neglected her again.
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Mike went in search of his roommate, Bobby Turner. He had done some calculating, and though he hated to do it, realized he had little choice. He found Bobby in the common room on one of the couches reading a magazine.
"Hey Bobby? I need a favor."
Bobby lowered his magazine and sat up. "What's up, pal?" He leveled a suspicious gaze on Mike.
"Can I please borrow ten bucks till I get paid next week?" Mike hoped he'd say yes, or he ran the risk of washing dishes at Allegro's tonight.
His roommate narrowed his eyes. "Ten bucks?" He shook his head, but grabbed his wallet and pulled out a ten. "You taking Princess Prissy out?"
Mike rolled his eyes. "Man, she's my girl! Don't call her names. And yes, I'm taking her out tonight. But I need gas money. I forgot I'm almost on empty."
Sighing, Bobby handed over the bill. "There. I wish you'd listen to your friends about that girl. She's bad news, pal. Kenny was telling me he saw her and Toby Pierce getting a little too intimate over at Memorial Aud —"
Mike held up a hand to stop him. "Hold on there, Bobby. That's a tired old tune, my friend, but thanks anyway. I'll get the ten back to you next week. And thanks."
As Mike left the room, Bobby yelled after him. "Next time I'm charging interest!"
Mike waved a hand over his shoulder, "Yeah, yeah."
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Priscilla slid into the seat that Mike had pulled out for her. They had been seated near a window looking over the bay. "Oh, this is beautiful." She picked up her menu and looked it over. "Everything looks delicious."
Mike had never been to the restaurant before and hoped he was a good enough actor to hide his shock at the prices on the menu. He knew her menu didn't have the prices on it, so he had no idea what she would order or what it would cost. He hoped she would be sensible about it but he wouldn't hold his breath. At this point, he wished he could just order a glass of water. They probably charge for that too.
"I think I'll get the seafood linguine," she said, smiling. "Lobster and shrimp, mussels, clams. Oh, it sounds so good, though I'm not too sure about the mussels."
Mike nodded woodenly. It was one of the more expensive dishes on the menu. He glanced over the choices and wondered if they carried fish and chips. He nearly blanched at her next words.
She turned the menu over. "Ooh, what about the osso buco? I could get it with shrimp!" She reached for his hand. "What's wrong, Mikey? You look like a ghost."
"Oh, nothing… sorry, just a slight headache suddenly. So, you like the seafood linguine, do you?" He was hoping to track her back to something at least slightly reasonable.
"Hmm… I love lobster and shrimp. But mussels… well…." She wrinkled her nose. "Besides, my mama says that veal osso buco is all the rage."
Mike sighed and continued to scan the menu hoping to find something he'd be able to afford. He finally settled on the sea bass. He didn't particularly care for it, but it was at least doable.
The waiter came to take their orders, and Priscilla did indeed order the osso buco with shrimp and all the trimmings. Mike ordered the sea bass with a small salad, and sincerely hoped he wouldn't end up washing dishes for a week after this.
"Oh, Mike. We didn't even look at the wine list yet."
He shook his head. "Priss, honey, I hope you'll forgive me, but I have two exams tomorrow, and I'd better not drink tonight. I still have to study when I get home."
"Well, it's no fun drinking alone," she grumbled. "I suppose I'll just have an iced tea, then." And she handed her menu to the waiter.
"I'll have water." He handed over his menu and heard his bank account draining away.
Priscilla leaned forward, eyes dancing as she looked at Mike. "We've been dating for most of the school year."
Mike nodded. "That's true."
She fluttered her eyelashes. "So… maybe it's time you thought about asking me a special question?"
Mike blinked. He had thought about marriage, but not until after he graduated from med school at least. He opened his mouth to tell her this, when blessedly, the waiter brought their salads. The man took his time, especially when Mike agreed to ground pepper on his. That gave Mike's heart time to settle back to a normal rhythm.
Priscilla wrinkled her nose at her salad. "This has ranch dressing, not bleu cheese! Waiter!" she called after the retreating server.
The waiter returned. "Miss?"
"I can't possibly eat this. I asked for bleu cheese, and there are hardly any croutons."
Mike was pretty sure she'd said ranch when their order was taken, but he kept his mouth shut. He wouldn't interfere unless she got carried away.
"Of course, miss. I'll bring you a new salad right away." The waiter nicked his head and took the salad plate away.
Priscilla cozied up to Mike. "So… you were going to answer me."
He clenched his teeth, trying to figure out how to put it so he didn't offend her. "Marriage sounds great, Priscilla, but I have med school to complete first."
"You mean you expect me to wait?" Her eyes were sparking angrily now. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. "Mike, there's no reason you can't get married and then go to med school."
The waiter returned with her salad, sensed the tension, and beat a hasty retreat.
"This isn't the place for this discussion, Priss. Let's just enjoy this great meal."
"Stop calling me that! My name is Priscilla." She pushed her salad away. "I'm not sure I can eat anything now."
Now Mike was upset. "At the price of your dinner? Are you kidding me? And why can you call me Mikey, but I can't say Priss?"
"You're complaining about the cost? You, with your big-time restaurateur daddy in Chicago?" She blinked back tears.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. My father has nothing to do with this or with me. Is that what you think, that I have any of my father's money? Well, I don't. He doesn't give me a penny. I'm earning my own way. That's why I work as hard as I do."
She grabbed his hand. "Don't let's fight, Mikey. I just want to know we have a future to look forward to. We can get engaged now and get married after you finish school. I thought you loved me."
He eyed her intently. "I can't figure you out. But we came here to eat dinner. I suggest that's what we do."
"Fine," she snapped as she let go of his hand. She took a bite of her salad, then pushed the dish away. "This is awful. I should have gotten the ranch after all."
Mike stared at her. "You are not sending it back again," he hissed. "That's just being petty. Eat your salad."
She locked eyes with him for a long moment. Finally, she pulled the dish back, picked up her fork, and ate. She didn't say another word until their entrees arrived.
His bass looked great, if you liked fish, which he really didn't, but he was resigned to eating it anyway. Her entree looked fabulous and made him realize he was actually hungry.
She picked at her food, keeping her silence and looking past Mike. And then her gaze suddenly hardened. "Tommy Randolph, you creep!"
Mike just stared at her. "Excuse me? Who are you talking about?"
She didn't answer. She was on her feet, striding across the restaurant to a table where another young man sat with his girl. "Tommy, what are you doing! Who is this… this… hussy?!" Everyone in the restaurant was staring at her now.
Mike had followed her over to the table. "Wait a minute Priscilla, who is he?"
She turned and glared at him. "Well, you didn't think I just sat at home when you brushed me off, did you?"
"So the rumors are true then." He said this with no inflection in his voice whatsoever. "Seems like you calling her a hussy is like the pot calling the kettle black."
At that, Priscilla slapped him, hard. "Take that back, Michael!"
"Prove me wrong, Priscilla," he shot back.
"Uh…" Tommy was speechless at first, but finally managed to spit out, "Who are you and why are you here with my girl?"
Mike looked over at him. "If she's your girl, why are you here with another girl?" He glared at Tommy for a moment and then switched his glare back to Priscilla.
"I'm tired of your games, Priscilla. If you want me, then it's me, and only me. Nobody else. You know my plans. You wanna be engaged, fine. But that means you don't play around even when I'm up to my eyeballs in work and studying. If you can't commit to that then I don't want you. Think hard about it."
Priscilla crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him for a long moment. "If I make that commitment, I want a ring and a wedding date."
Even though the voice of reason was telling him to walk away, Mike couldn't do it. "You think about it for a week. Then we'll talk. But you'll have your ring and your wedding date. Now do you wanna eat or not?"
She tossed her head. "I've lost my appetite. I just want to be alone. I'll take a taxi home."
"Fine. Call me in a week."
At that, Priscilla walked out the door, head held high.
When Mike returned to the table, he found the waiter had packed up their food. Mike walked over to him. "I'd like the bill, please."
The waiter's response was the one pleasant surprise of the evening. "No, no, sir. The owner says this is on the house. No one should get treated the way that lady treated you tonight."
"Lady isn't the word I'd use," a waitress tossed over her shoulder as she walked past. She smiled at Mike and winked, just a little flirtatiously.
The waiter arched an eyebrow. "I was bein' polite."
Mike felt as if a burden had been lifted. "Thanks." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ten he'd been going to use for gas money. He didn't need it now, so he handed it to the waiter. "Thank you for everything."
The waiter smiled. "Part of the job. Thank you."
As Mike stepped out into the parking lot, he heard arguing by one of the cars, and realized Tommy was having about as much luck with his date as he'd had with Priss. Well, it served him right. What a night!
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Priscilla waited a full week to call Mike. She wasn't just sitting at home thinking, though. She went out with a different guy each night of the week. Morrie and Jim. Kevin, Oscar, David. And then Tommy — they'd made up after he called to apologize. On day seven, she dialed Mike's number. "I want you," she told him when he answered.
"No more going out on me?"
"No more." She hoped he could hear in her voice what a sacrifice this was for her. Not that she intended to keep her promise — she would just have to be more careful from now on.
"I'm gonna hold you to that, Priscilla. I love you, and I will do my best to make you happy."
Bless his heart, he was such an innocent. Or an idiot. She wasn't entirely sure. But he was going to be a rich idiot, and she could live with that. "You'll get me a ring and go down on one knee?"
"Right in the middle of the quad if you want."
She smiled. "I do."
"But Priscilla, this goes both ways. I expect you to be faithful. To care enough about me to want to be faithful."
She sighed in exasperation. "I already promised that, Mike. I love you too. Why do you think I chose you? I could have any guy I want, but I picked you!"
"Then pick a date — after I graduate — and get ready to spend your life with me."
"You really want to wait till you're done with med school?" She added a little tremble to her voice. She didn't want to wait that long. She'd rather get married now.
"It won't be easy if we get married before I graduate."
"But when will that be? How many years?" She knew she was whining. It had proved effective before. "I just want our future to start now."
"I can barely support myself, let alone both of us."
"Fine," she conceded. "I can wait. Just let me know when you'll graduate. At least we can still date while we're engaged." Her voice got dreamy. "Maybe we could even move in together."
"I'll graduate med school in '68. My residency should pay enough for me to support you. We can get married then."
"All right, then. Four years. June 1968. Oh, how about a beach wedding? Wouldn't it be lovely?"
Mike sighed, but he didn't argue. She would take what she could get.
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June, 1964
Priscilla was furious. Mike was committed to eight years in the Navy Reserve! He said she should have expected it — after all, she knew he was in ROTC and they were paying his way through school. He was going far away to Georgetown for medical school and would be on reserve duty at the same time, while she had to stay here at Stanford and finish her senior year. He didn't want her to come out to join him after she graduated because she would be a distraction. He said they could still get married in four years, but he had to serve his full commitment.
She had stomped and stormed and cried and clung, but nothing moved him. Did he even really love her? She was beginning to doubt it. If he did, he wouldn't leave. Well, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget. She dried her tears, picked up the phone, and dialed his number. Putting on the sweetest tone she could muster, she said, "Mike? I'm sorry. I'm just going to miss you."
"I'm sorry I had to spring it on you like that, but I wasn't sure how the dates were going to work out. This is the only way that I can afford medical school, and I have to give it my full concentration. I really will miss you."
Like hell you will. If you cared so much, you'd stay close to home. "Can't you just become a chef like your dad wants? Then you wouldn't have to do this."
"No!" His tone sharpened. She grinned, pleased that she'd struck a nerve. "I've been working too hard and dreaming of this all my life! Besides, the Navy put me through Stanford. I owe them."
You owe me, Michael Morton! Oh, but she couldn't wait to take her revenge! She kept her tone sweet and conciliatory. "I'll… I'll wait for you, Mike. We can get married in '68, when you're ready." She twisted the ring he'd given her around and around on her finger. A diamond ring. Not that anyone would know to look at it — the diamonds were embarrassingly tiny. You'd need a magnifying glass to see them. Yes, she would teach him.
"I'm glad to hear that. I was really afraid I'd lost you."
She sniffled. "No. You didn't. I love you, Mike. When do you leave?"
"In July."
"Could we take a trip before you go? Maybe Las Vegas? Something special."
Mike was quiet for a minute. "Sure," he finally said. "I think that would be great."
She took care to make their time in Vegas extra special for Mike, treating him with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness, and she managed to entice him into an intimacy he'd always insisted should wait for marriage.
When they got back to Stanford, where she would soon start her senior year, she kissed him goodbye at the bus station. "Don't forget me while you're at Georgetown."
"Never." He nuzzled her ear and kissed her neck. "I'll write as often as I can."
"Lots of letters. I promise to write back."
She kissed him again and then backed away and waved. "Goodbye."
He waved back and climbed on the bus.
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Four years passed quicker than Priscilla thought possible. Of course, she had her hands full. She ended up dropping out of school and moving in with one of her conquests. She said nothing about him in her letters to Mike, though. Writing to him, she talked only of her hopes and dreams for their life together. As the time approached for his return, they wrote and talked on the phone about their plans for the wedding.
They would be married on June 15 in the chapel of an old Spanish mission on the coast. He gave her the names and contact information of the friends he hoped would serve as groomsmen and his best man. All he had to do was send invitations to his friends and family — she would take care of the rest.
The day he returned, only three days before the wedding, she met him at the bus station, all smiles. "Mike! It's wonderful to see you again!" But when she kissed him hello, her heart wasn't in it.
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Mike was too happy to be home to notice anything amiss with Priscilla. At least at first. Since they'd last been together, she had gained some weight. She looked tired, too, though her makeup did a fair job of hiding that. He still found her beautiful.
"Three more days," she murmured in his ear. "Then we'll be married forever." That night, she gave him one assignment to complete before the wedding. "I've arranged for your tux already, gave them the sizes you sent me. Your groomsmen and best man already have theirs. All you need to do is pick yours up and pay for the rental. And of course be ready to pay the balance on the venue. Everything else is taken care of."
"I appreciate that, Priscilla. It'll be nice just to relax and watch you run around in circles for the next few days," he teased.
She kissed him, her tongue seeking his as she pressed against him, then pulled back a moment later. "Well, since we've got everything set, my girlfriends are taking me away for a couple of days. The next time you see me after tonight, you'll be standing at the altar and watching me come down the aisle."
He frowned. "I just got back. I've missed you so much! I was hoping to spend some time with you."
"Oh, honey, I've missed you too! But it's what my bridesmaids arranged for a bridal shower. They rented a cabin and everything. I don't have a choice." She kissed him again, letting her lips linger on his. "Mike, darling, we've got the rest of our lives together."
Finally, he smiled. "Okay. Then I'll see you at the head of the aisle. You're going to be stunning. Have fun at the cabin. I love you!"
"I love you too." One more kiss, even longer than the last. Finally, she broke it off and backed away. "Goodbye, Mike. See you soon." And she disappeared out the door.
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June 15, 1966
Mike waited at the front of the chapel, dressed in his tux. His side of the church was filled with his friends. In the family pew, his elderly grandmother and two aunts were watching him with concern. Dad, of course, had chosen to skip the occasion, and George couldn't be there because he was overseeing the opening of Dad's second restaurant in Chicago. Most likely dad chose the date just to spite his errant younger son.
Priscilla had never shown up. Her side of the church was empty. No family. No guests at all. And the bride wasn't the only member of the wedding party that was missing. Mike's best man, Theo Chambers, wasn't there either.
"Mike, I don't think she's coming," Bobby, who had taken over as best man, whispered in his ear. "What do you want to do?"
Mike was desperate to believe she wouldn't do this to him. "She'll be here!"
"She's half an hour late already. And look out there. She didn't invite anyone for her." He put a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Pal."
Suddenly, from somewhere within the back area of the mission, a telephone shrilled several times before someone picked it up.
A man came to the entrance of the sanctuary and said, "Excuse me… I was told to come in and say there's a call for the groom."
Mike stared at the man, his stomach sinking. "For me? Here? Now? It must be Priscilla!"
The man shook his head. "Not unless Priscilla's a guy, pal."
Now Mike was confused. He headed down the aisle, Bobby on his heels, and followed the man to the office, where he picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Mike?" George's voice. He sounded concerned, using that slow, gentle tone he had always used back when they were teens and Mike had girl trouble. "I had to call. I just got a telegram that confused me. It gave this number."
"What does it say?"
"George: Sorry to spoil the party. Stop. He deserved it. Stop. Call 415-555-7567 and ask for the groom. Stop. Mrs. Priscilla Chambers. Stop." George paused briefly. "Mike, I'm so sorry. For your sake, I wish she'd proved me wrong."
"Yeah, me too. G'bye, George." Mike hung up before George could say another word.
"Wedding's off?" Bobby asked. He put a hand on Mike's shoulder.
Mike just nodded. He hadn't the strength for anything else.
"Stay here. I'll send everyone home. Then you and I are going to go get smashed."
Mike shook his head. "No, Bobby. I need to get changed and go to work. My residency — I was going to start after the honeymoon, but I guess… maybe I can start it now. I still have to pay for this venue and —" His voice broke off. He wasn't sure what to say and he was getting dizzy just thinking about it. He sank into a chair and rested his head in his hands.
"You need to take care of yourself." Bobby cussed under his breath. "Princess Prissy needs a kick in the pants for treating a good guy like you this way!"
"She came to see me just a few days ago, acted like everything was fine — like she was excited to get married. And all along she was married to Theo?"
"Heh. I wonder what he would think of that." Bobby shook his head. "Pair of traitors. They deserve each other."
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
July 10, 1975
Jamie Chambers hated his summer. Once again, Mom and Dad had deposited him here in Los Angeles instead of taking him traveling with them. Sometimes he wondered if they even cared about him. His friends back in Las Vegas were spending the summer at camp or traveling with their parents. Davey was going to Disneyland. Steve's parents were taking him to London. And all Jamie got to do was sit around Grandma Gibbons' house reading comic books while she worked at the beauty shop. Aunt Janessa was visiting too, but she didn't bring her kids, and there weren't many kids in the neighborhood, so Jamie still had practically nothing to do.
He could listen though. He did lots of that. He was practicing to be a spy when he grew up. He knew how to disappear around grownups so that they'd talk and he would listen to everything they had to say. That's how he got the news that turned his world upside down.
"That Mike Morton," Grandma started. "Prissy shoulda made him do right by her boy. Rich doctor an' all. He oughta be helpin' raise his own kid."
The first thing that caught Jamie's ear was the name Prissy. His mom hated being called Prissy. He'd seen her slap Dad for forgetting. Mom and Dad fought a lot. Jamie was pretty sure it was his fault. He never could do right by his dad.
That's when the rest of what Grandma said started sinking in. Jamie had never heard of Mike Morton. Was Grandma saying that Theo Chambers wasn't his dad after all? He leaned back against the coat closet wall, his ear right up against the sliver of light coming in through the closed door and kept on listening.
"Can you believe he's a doctor at Rampart, Mama?" Aunt Janessa was talking now. She had a high-pitched voice, not like Mom's alto. She always sounded a little like she was whining. "Well, a resident actually. My friend Millie is a nurse there and she works with him. She says the patients don't care for him much. He has the worst bedside manner! Jamie's lucky to have Theo for a dad."
Jamie wasn't so sure about that, but of course Aunt Janessa didn't know all the details of life with Theo Chambers. He made good money, that much was true. But he wasn't particularly nice to Mom or to Jamie. That's one reason Jamie got so good at hiding. He preferred to get out of the way when Dad was in a rage.
So, he had a different dad? He wondered if he looked like Mike Morton. Sometimes Dad got upset that Jamie didn't look anything like him or anyone else on his side of the family. The more Jamie thought it over, the more determined he was that somehow, he would find a way to meet Mike Morton.
He didn't expect it to happen the way it did. Two days after listening in on that conversation, he was out roller skating. The skates were old. They had been his uncle's and were a size too big, but Jamie strapped them on anyway. It wasn't the best idea. Halfway around the block, he ended up flat on his face. Well, almost flat on his face. He stuck out his arm and caught himself before his face could hit the pavement. And he felt something in his arm snap. Heard it, too. This wasn't how he'd planned to get to Rampart. He had in mind that he would just spend a dime on the bus and ride over there. Instead, a little red fire truck with a big 51 on the side came roaring around the corner, sirens blaring, and a couple of firemen jumped out.
He was sitting there on the sidewalk, trying not to cry, while a bunch of old ladies clucked over him. His arm hurt like crazy, though, and it was hard not to let a couple of tears fall. Then Grandma and Aunt Janessa came running. One of the old ladies had gone to get them.
The paramedics were pretty cool. They talked to him like he mattered, and they listened to him pretty good. They told Grandma they were taking him to Rampart Hospital and then they loaded him into the ambulance. The one named DeSoto climbed in with him.
"Do you know Dr. Morton?" Jamie asked after the ambulance doors closed.
"I sure do. He's a good doctor. Do you know him?" DeSoto asked.
"No. Just heard his name." He got quiet after that. After all, he wasn't going to go telling the story he'd overheard to a total stranger. Still… he did want to make sure he met Dr. Morton at the hospital, and Grandma might try to interfere.
They were turning into the hospital parking lot when he decided to come clean. "I think Dr. Morton's my dad," he said. "I wanna meet him."
The paramedic's forehead wrinkled up at that and his jaw kinda dropped. Jamie felt his cheeks get hot. He'd said more than he should've, but he couldn't take the words back once they were out.
"I'm sure you'll get to meet him," DeSoto said, giving him a pat on his uninjured arm. "But let's keep that detail between us for now. You shouldn't tell anyone else until you've talked with him about it. Deal?"
Jamie nodded. "Deal."
When they got to the hospital, Jamie ended up in a treatment room with a Dr. Brackett, who ordered x-rays and the like. And then Jamie heard a commotion in the hallway. He listened carefully, ignoring the questions from Dr. Brackett.
"Mom, that's him! That's Mike Morton!" Aunt Janessa sounded as mad as when Jamie swiped her glasses as a prank.
Then Grandma spoke up. "That man is not going in to see my grandson!"
"Now Ma'am," DeSoto was saying, "your grandson asked to meet him, and he's got a pretty good reason. If it's the truth, Dr. Morton has every right. You need to step back and let them meet."
"Hey, Jamie. Listen to me, OK?" Dr. Brackett asked. "On a scale of one to ten, how much does your arm hurt?"
Jamie looked up at the doctor for a second, then let his gaze travel back to the door. "Ten." The door opened and a taller version of himself stepped inside. His heart practically skipped a beat. It was true. Dr. Morton was his dad after all!
"Kel, Roy said your patient wanted to talk with me. Mind if I step in for a minute?"
"No problem, Mike. I'm still waiting for those x-rays. I'll give you a few minutes." And Dr. Brackett left the room. On the way out, though, he looked from Dr. Morton to Jamie and back to Dr. Morton as if he were noticing something.
If Dr. Morton noticed the same something, he didn't let on. He smiled at Jamie and said, "Hello. I'm Dr. Morton. I heard you wanted to talk with me."
Jamie just stared at the man. He'd been all excited about this moment and now he felt like the words were stuck in his throat. "I… I…" Ugh. He was croaking like a frog. The doctor must think he was a real dummy. "I'm Jamie. Jamie Chambers."
Dr. Morton's face got real hard for a second, but only for a second. "Hi, Jamie. I'm pleased to meet you."
Jamie coughed and blinked back tears and suddenly those words he was choking on all jumped out in a jumble. "I heard my grandma and aunt talk about how you're my real dad and it all made sense 'cause my dad doesn't even like me and I had to meet you and I wanted to know why you didn't take care of Mama and me?" The tears he was trying to hold back had escaped and were coming in a flood as he stared at the man in the lab coat. "I gotta know. Didn't you love us?"
Dr. Morton just stood there with his jaw sagging and his eyes getting really big. "You're really Priscilla's son?"
Jamie nodded. He scrubbed his uninjured arm over his face, trying to wipe away some of the tears.
"How old are you? Wh… when were you born?"
"March 14, 1965." Jamie wasn't sure what that question was about, but it seemed like his answer was enough.
Suddenly Dr. Morton was right in front of him, taking his good hand and squeezing it tight. "I had no idea. She never told me. All those letters and she never mentioned you once. I was going to marry her. I wanted to —" He stopped short. Jamie wanted more of the story, but he sensed that right now wasn't the right time to push for it.
Besides, just then Grandma pushed through the door. Dr. Brackett followed her in. "You couldn't be bothered with the boy when he was born, Dr. Morton." She snapped out her words the way she did when she was really mad. "So, you can just get away from him now!"
Jamie jumped down from the exam table. It jarred his arm and made fresh tears spring to his eyes, but he wasn't going to let Grandma talk to his father that way. "Leave him alone, Grandma! He didn't know. Mama didn't tell him about me! He wanted to marry her!"
Dr. Morton pulled him back gently but firmly. "Hey now, young man. That's no way to talk to your grandmother. Let the grown-ups settle this while Dr. Brackett takes care of your arm." And then the doctor's face came down close to his ear. "I promise you, starting right now, I'll do everything I can to make up for all those years we missed together."
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
The boy was his. Mike had no trouble believing it. The dates fit, and the kid looked just like a photo Mike had of himself when he was ten. Jamie was his son.
He stood up and turned to face Prissy's mother. "Mrs. Gibbons. I'm glad for a chance to meet you." He wouldn't speak ill of Priscilla in front of their son, but he would do what he could to win her mother over. "I promise you, I didn't know about him. Priscilla never told me."
"But she said —"
Priscilla's sister jabbed her mother with her elbow. "Sounds to me like she lied. Do you really have trouble believing that, Mom?"
Mike frowned and nodded toward the boy. "This is neither the time nor the place," he said firmly. "But this is my son. And I am going to get to know him. Where is his mother and how can I get in touch with her?"
"You can't," Mrs. Gibbons snapped. "She wants nothing to do with you. Besides, she's in Europe."
"Then she'll hear from my lawyer." Mike turned and knelt down to Jamie's level again. Looking into the child's face, he felt weak for a second. How could he love someone so completely in so short a time? Ten minutes ago, he didn't even know this child existed. Now he was prepared to do anything to take care of him. He wanted to be the father he'd always wished he had. He brushed a hand gently over the boy's hair. "Jamie, you need to go home with your grandmother once Dr. Brackett is ready to release you, but don't worry. I'll be coming to see you plenty this summer."
"You promise?" Jamie asked uncertainly.
"I promise." He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his Navy tattoo. "I'm a Navy man, Jamie, and we keep our promises." He held out his arms, inviting his son into a hug. Jamie responded, wrapping his thin arms around Mike's neck and squeezing tight. Mike was breathless by the time the hug ended. He kissed Jamie's forehead. "Goodbye, Son. I love you."
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Until he met Jamie, Mike thought the hardest thing he'd ever done was wait at the front of that church for a bride who wasn't coming. But no. The hardest thing was saying goodbye to his son and letting him leave Los Angeles with the woman who had kept them apart all these years. Her face when she and Theo came to pick Jamie up and found Mike at Franny Gibbons' house was priceless. He'd never known those copper-colored cheeks could get so flushed.
She was still beautiful. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, same as it had all those years ago when she sang to him at Sal's Tavern. But he wasn't going to fall for her again. "Priscilla," he said, keeping his tone flat and calm.
"Mike." Her voice sounded a bit strangled. No wonder — he had caught her by surprise, and she hadn't had a chance to prepare for his presence.
"I've met my son. He's a fantastic kid." Jamie was standing next to him, clutching his leg and trembling slightly. He didn't want to leave. They'd already talked about that, and Mike wished things could be different. "My lawyer will be getting in touch with yours. I want shared custody."
Her eyes got huge. "But you've never paid a dime to take care of him!"
He shook his head. "Hard to do when you never told me about him." And then he handed her an envelope. He had come prepared. "My lawyer and I have worked out what the appropriate amount of child support spread over ten years would be. Here. My check is good. I want him back here for Christmas. I'll drive up to get him." He kept a grip on the envelope until she agreed. Then he got down on one knee and looked Jamie in the eye. "Write to me, kiddo. Remember, I love you, always. And you've got my phone number, so you can call me any time."
"I love you too, Dad."
Mike didn't miss Jamie's sideways glance at Theo when he used that title. Theo didn't even seem to care.
Jamie, Theo, and Priscilla climbed in their car and Mike stood there, watching it drive away. Franny Gibbons stepped up next to him and put a hand on his arm. "You're a good father after all," she said. "I'm sorry for what my daughter and I put you through."
And then, suddenly, the car stopped. Jamie got out and ran back to him, crying, "Daddy! Daddy!"
He left the car door open, and Mike could hear Theo and Prissy yelling at each other. He couldn't make out what they were saying, though.
Jamie launched himself into Mike's arms, sobbing. "He said Mom has to choose him or me. She won't choose me. I know she won't! I want to live with you. Please let me live with you."
"Hey," Mike said. "You've always got a home with me, no matter what, pal. I love you."
Prissy got out of the car for a second and stood staring at them. Mike could see that she was crying. Her feelings weren't his concern, though. This broken-hearted little boy who believed his mother didn't love him enough to choose him was his priority and always would be. He wasn't a bit surprised when she scrubbed her sleeve across her face and got back in the car. Princess Prissy's primary interest had always been herself.
He and Jamie never saw Prissy again. A few weeks later, Franny Gibbons called him to say that a lawyer had delivered to her the boy's birth certificate, amended to show Mike Morton as his father, along with all of his school documents and health records.
That fall, Mike bought a small house so that he and Jamie wouldn't be crowded in a one-bedroom apartment. Even as a busy doctor, he found a way to attend most of Jamie's Little League games and to help him with his homework and tuck him into bed most nights, and he never missed a birthday. Franny took care of the boy when Mike was on duty at Rampart and whenever he was away fulfilling his responsibilities with the Navy Reserve.
No dad could be prouder than Mike when he attended Jamie's graduation from UCLA. He had followed in his father's footsteps, enrolling in NROTC, and was on his way to Johns Hopkins for med school. The little boy who once hid in closets to listen in on the grownups and practice being a spy was going to become a doctor instead, just like his dad.