Look what I found on an old USB! The second chapter!

"Mommy…Daaaaaddy!"

The whimper caused Phil to groan. The transition from grandparent to full-time parent of Arnold had not been easy at all. After all, it had been years… years and years, and even more years… since Phil had cared for a baby. Where Stella and Miles had been, now there was Phil and Gertie, at least until Miles and Stella returned. Frankly, Phil hoped it would be soon. And it had only been a week!

Arnold had been so clingy lately, and the baby book that Phil and Gertie had presented Stella and Miles with said that this "attachment" to the older couple could happen when new situations arrived. Phil prayed the clinginess would go away when Miles returned.

Another whimper at the door.

Groaning again, Phil tried his best to not awaken his wife and opened the door to find Arnold there, tears pouring down his little face and clutching a small airplane.

Phil blinked and bent down, knees creaking. "Hey, Shortman... what are you doing down here?!" He smiled softly as he thought of that nickname that he once had called Miles as the boy was growing up. A sniffle from his grandson brought him out of his memory and to the little infant in his arms.

"I miss my Mommy… and my daddy."

So do I, Little Man. So do I. Phil thought, but instead he ruffled the soft blond hair and headed upstairs with Arnold, making note to buy a baby gate.

"Why don't I tell you a story about your daddy, Arnold?"

As Phil tucked the sleeping child in, he chuckled at thinking how Miles would be mortified if he could hear this story. Brushing Arnold's hair back, he kissed the boy and watched at how the prospect of hearing a story had changed his attitude. Phil laid the child down in his crib, he smiled and sat down in the glider adjacent to it.

"Well now. Let's see. I reckon your daddy was about five or so, and there was a circus in town…"

Before the story about Miles' disappearance and impromptu circus performance was even halfway finished, Arnold was sound asleep and Phil tucked the boy in, kissing him goodnight. Thankfully, Arnold slept through that night, but Phil found in the following nights the routine was much the same. Wake up at an ungodly hour and talk about his son, which became harder and harder as time went on.

One night after the story, Phil tiptoed out of Arnold's room and closed the door. Pausing, he stood at the top of the stairway for a long time, his mind whirring. It was October eighth. It had been over three months since his son had left, and there had been no word. He and Gertie had tried to contact Eduardo, but they had not had any luck. Their days spent with worry, and nights were spent clutching each other and yearning for some small bit of comfort that their son was still alive, still coming, and this made for a less-than-cheery grandfather. As his spirits dampened, anger began replacing his sorrow.

I should have insisted they stay, told Miles his duty was to Arnold. If they never come back it is my fault...

Finally, three days ago, he and Gertie had gotten word from San Lorenzo's government that they had officially declared the much-loved American couple "missing" and were conducting an all-out search. October the Fifth… pah! The date would be forever burned into Phil's mind, and he knew if his son wasn't located soon, his Gertie would lose it. Thank God, she's holding onto hope.

Of course, Phil was too. It had only been a few months, after all. And they both had gone longer than this since hearing from their Golden Boy. However, something told Phil this was different. Father's intuition, Phil supposed, if such a thing existed. Whatever it was, he could only hope it was wrong as he clutched the stair railing, his knuckles whitening from his grip.

Miles, you missed his second birthday. How could you have done this to HIM?! I told you, I TOLD you. Christmas will be here soon… and the only thing Shortman wants is you and Stella. Please, don't fail him, son.

Stuck in his thoughts as he descended the stairway, Phil slammed into Mr. Huynh, and before he could apologize, Mr. Huynh turned to Phil and clasped him on the shoulder.

"Mister Shortman."

Phil nodded, but Mr. Huynh continued, causing Phil to pause and look to him.

"You will see him again. You know, as parents, I have no choice but to believe that I'll find Mai one day. It's been over twenty years, and I have never found her. She may not even be here, or not even in this state. But I have faith, yes. Faith! We have to have, that is. Your son is good boy. Like his own son. You must know you'll see each other again."

Phil nodded slowly, his voice cracking as he brushed past his tenant and replied for only Huynh to hear, "Yes, but will it be in this life or after, Lành? That's my real question. Goodnight."

Settling into bed, Phil felt his Pookie's arm wrap around him as she propped up onto her elbow.

"He'll come back, Phil. Miles has to. For Arnold."

Phil nodded, forcing confidence to radiate from every inch of him as he firmly kissed his wife on the lips. "Of course he will! You know our son. Good at worrying us is something he mastered long ago. Goodnight, dear."

The first snow of the winter brought along the usual bumps of the boarding house. Flu, colds, and a broken heater were the physical things that could certainly keep owners of a boarding house busy, but not Sunset Arms' owners. Oh no. After all, they had Arnold to think about.

Arnold, oh how that boy had grown! And how Gertie loved parading their little grandson around Hillwood, especially to the park where lots of little babies just Arnold's age seemed to go. As Halloween grew closer, the excitement in the boarding house grew more palpable and Phil laughed outright as October 31st came about and down Gertie came in brown sweats, with Arnold clinging onto her back. He was dressed in a full cowboy outfit, complete with hat and shoes. When Phil offhandedly mentioned this, Gertie rolled her eyes as she gently bucked, causing Arnold to squeal happily.

"Of course he's got his hat. Ya think Billy would be Billy without his hat?"

Letting out a "Yee-haw!" they galloped through the halls, and Phil shook his head. The longer Gertie went without hearing from their son, the worse she became. She had always been silly, but this was on a completely different scale.

Moving into the living room, Phil grabbed a photo album and sat down, leafing through it. Stopping only a few pages in, he smiled wistfully at the old photos. One in particular caught his attention, and his thumb rubbed across it, chuckling at the little girl in her party dress and the delighted Gertie behind her. Underneath, in the slim and elegant cursive of Gertrude, stood the caption:

Tara Elyse Shortman, Third Birthday And Party, August the 22nd, 1943

Phil sighed, clutching the book a bit. He had only been twenty-five when his little girl was born, and had missed so much of her life during that war. But duty had called, and he had gladly answered that call on September the first of 1939; a choice he never regretted. He wasn't as brave as most, despite his Purple Heart and his brave actions that helped topple the Regime. Phil shook his head and continued flipping through the old album. He could hear the boarders doing god-knows-what, but he ignored it. He stopped after about a dozen pages, his smile dimming as his lip clenched.

Walter Miles Shortman, Hillwood Medical, June the 22nd, 1950

The picture was grainy, but to Phil it was as if he was seeing it for the very first time. He could remember it so clearly, that special day.

He had picked up Tara from school, trying to not bounce. Right as he was leaving the hospital, the doctor had come with the news that he was a daddy again. The joy in Phil filled the room as he and Tara entered that hospital room, where Gertie grinned at the both of them as she held a very small blanket. As Phil kissed her, she hugged him and turned the blanket to show a little boy with very fine blond hair, and Phil was in love at once. Although Tara was ten, she bonded quickly with Miles and the family seemed complete. Business was good, and then—

"Phil! Gertie says it is lunchtime! Come and get it!" Ernie said, and Phil jerked up and waved his hand, giving a half-hearted smile to Ernie.

"Oh, I had a big lunch. Make sure Shortman eats!"

Phil went back to the book as Ernie left, and as he turned past a few more pages. As he came across another photo, he couldn't help but laugh.

His Gertie was standing on the steps of the Sunset Arms, face scrunched up in anger. She held an infant on her arms, as three-year-old Miles hid partially behind her skirt with muddy clothes and thirteen-year-old Tara stood, with what Phil assumed was mud, in her hands. The glare she was giving Gertie was so very, very much a mirror of her mother's that Phil was taken back into those days when children were everywhere, and the boarding house wasn't so run down, wasn't so in need of repairs they couldn't afford. That day however, it seemed as though the entire world was shining just for them, and Phil grinned as he thumbed the picture carefully.

"TaraElyse Shortman! Just what do you think you are doing?!"

Tara paused, slinging mud one last time towards Miles and looking up with big innocent blue eyes.

"Nothing bad, Mama. I'm only playing!"

"You're going to get dirty! And I am not bathing you again. Do you hear me?"

Phil laughed, nodding to the camera. "Gertie, just look at the camera… I didn't pay so much for it, only for you to ignore it and make such a fuss over a little mud. Come on now. We just brought Johnny home! Smile, aren't you happy?"

Tara slung mud at Miles as he stuck out his tongue, and as the shutter went off, Gertie scowled. A moment caught forever.

Heaviness slammed into Phil and he continued, brushing tears away as the next page yielded his Johnny's birth certificate.

Johnathan Philip Shortman, April the 10th, 1953

The next few pages showed moments in time Phil was so glad now that he had captured, as the back and white, and then sienna prints stared at him, the faces of his three beloved kids enraptured by different things. The first birthday of Johnny, and then as the next few years of photos passed as Phil went through the book, his stomach got heavier as he watched Johnny grow up.

Then, the moment he dreaded came up in the album.

Phil flinched as he turned the page, and saw the embossed death certificate. The page was wrinkled from tears and his Gertie's handwriting was nearly unrecognizable.

Johnathan Philip Shortman, Into Heavenly Rest: August the 17th, 1956.

Phil gripped the book, and he felt tears run down his cheeks. His little boy… it was not fair! Polio had claimed their little boy, settling into his lungs and causing him to stop breathing. He was only three...

A loud shriek cut Phil from his sorrow and he jerked up, seeing Gertie spin Arnold around, apparently pretending to be a plane.

We've already buried one child, must we bury another? God, please, Gertie couldn't bear it a second time… I'll really lose her this time.

Sighing, Phil stood and put the book up, wiping his face. He didn't want to get any further. Besides, it was late, and there was trick-or-treating to do.

Pausing, he glanced out the window at the small flurries whipping around outside and his mind went to warm, sunny San Lorenzo.

Miles…

Deciding on Arnold's age for his parent's departure took a little research. In "The Journal" Arnold is seen (in Miles' journal) as saying "bye bye Mommy. Bye bye Daddy." He knew exactly what he was saying. And, per google and Baby Center::

"mama" and "dada" may slip out and bring tears to your eyes as early as 6 months. From then on, your baby will pick up more words from you and everyone else around him. And sometime between 18 months and 2 years, he'll begin to form two- to four-word sentences.

So, I deduce that as Arnold knew exactly what he was saying –as well as telling Phil he missed his parents a short time after, per Arnold's dream in "Parents Day"(Arnold looked the same age) and therefore was older.

Third chapter should be up sometime in the next week or so. Enjoy!