After School …
Students filed out of the old, brick building a lot faster than they walked into it. Ben saw his dad, red serge uniform and all, standing outside the principal's office after he grabbed his back pack.
"Hey, Dad, what's going on?" Concern filled the boy's green eyes. His dad would only be there if it was important.
Benton turned around at the sound of his son's voice. It still surprised him to hear anyone calling him 'Dad'. A smile spread over the Mountie's face.
"I was just talking to Mr. Branch about your assignments for the rest of the year." Even greater concern clouded the boy's eyes. "I've been temporarily reassigned to the North West Territories, you'll be staying with Ray for a few weeks."
"You've taken your semester exams, I'll speak to your teachers about the remainder of your assignments." Mr. Branch, a lively man with quick eyes and a salt and pepper goatee grinned like a possum. No one would expect he could preach a fire and brimstone sermon on Sunday mornings like any good, Virginia Pentecostal preacher.
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Branch, I'll be sure to take lots of pictures to show everyone next year." Ben put his hand out and shook his principal's hand. Pride swelled in Benton's chest. Gone was the angry, bitter boy he'd first met.
"Have a good summer, Ben, I'll see you tomorrow." Mr. Branch escorted the pair out, into the stream of homeward bound students.
"What is it you didn't tell Mr. Branch, Dad?" Ben asked when they hit the sidewalk beyond the school.
"Hmm?" Benton asked, his Stetson in his hands.
"Come on, Dad, what is it?" Ben pressed the subject, seeing through his father's stalling tactic.
" Aunt Maggie, and myself have been called to Spencer Falls, the orders are classified." Benton answered the boy's question with as little of the worry he felt as possible.
"You don't know who's sent for you?" Ben asked, looking up at his father, but not by much.
"No, not yet." Benton tugged on his ear as they strolled.
"Are we still going to the rink this afternoon?" The boy looked up at him hopefully.
"Yes, just as soon as you pick up your room." Ben rolled his eyes. His father was as persistent and tenacious as any terrier.
"Okay, I'll pick it up." Ben chuckled, grinning.
Chicago Ice Rink …
"Sorry to say it, Constable Fraser, but I have to close the rink." Mr. Crook, the rink owner waddled out onto the ice, his hands shoved in his pockets.
"We should have been gone hours ago." Benton pulled his helmet off and skated toward the laid back man.
"Nah, no worries, it's good to see a father and son spending quality time together." Mr. Crook shrugged. He'd been watching Fraser and Ben come into the rink every week for the last year, since the boy had been kidnapped our of the rink bathroom.
"My Janice told me to invite the two of you to dinner this evening, we're having meatloaf and all the trimmings." Mr. Crook had his best salesman's smile on his round face.
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Crook." Benton nodded as he waved Ben over to them.
"Here's one, last shot, Dad." The boy brought the puck to him, mastering his footing well. Ben stopped short of his father and Mr. Crook with two feet to spare.
"You've improved, Ben." Mr. Crook commented. He had a fondness for the boy.
"Thank you, Mr. Crook." The Mountie nodded.
"It's no trouble, Constable, we're glad to have company for dinner." Mr. Crook shrugged, a bit embarrassed.
"Did Mrs. Crook fix a peach cobbler like she did last time?" The boy's eyes sparkled as he thought about the last time he and his father had eaten dinner with the Crook family.
"I'm not sure what Janice fixed for dessert."
"Everything she fixes is good." Ben could almost taste the thick, sweet syrup and crisp, tangy peaches he'd eaten with vanilla ice cream.
"Be sure to tell her that, she fusses that nothing tastes right." Mr. Crook gave the boy a hearty slap on the back.
Fraser's apartment …
Diefenbaker enjoyed the wolf sized doggy bag Mrs. Crook sent home for him as Ben sat down at the kitchen table and spread his homework out around him, a single light on overhead. There wasn't much, but he had to finish it before he was allowed to watch television. As Ben worked Mrs. Terlizzi's Hamlet cross word puzzle he listened to his father talking to Maggie.
"Hello, Benton. I'm afraid you'll have to bring Ben with you, Ray has to be out of town for work." Maggie sounded sad. She hated it when Ray had to leave to take care of business with the company. He'd found a management position for a private security firm. He trained new hires and handled special clients, both of which got him out of the office and into the field. Ray was still home for dinner at least three times a week and through the day the other four.
Benton wondered how he was going to handle this assignment and provide adequate supervision for Ben. He may have been fourteen but he was still Ben's only son and he wanted him to be safe above all else. He shoved the problem out of his mind for the time being.
"You haven't heard anything else about our orders?" Benton sat back in his arm chair, his cell phone pressed against his ear.
"No, no one knows where they originated." Fraser heard the loud crack of his sister slapping Ray's hand and a whispered, "Not now, I'm on the phone with Benton." before she giggled.
"Hey, Bennie, how's things?" The former detective's voice in the back ground made Ben smile. He was glad that his best friend and his sister had finally, after more than a decade, decided to get married.
"Hello, Ray, fine, thank you." Fraser answered.
"Sorry about that, Benton, you know how annoying he can be." Maggie apologized. He could hear the affection in her voice.
"No one is talking about this temporary assignment." The lady Mountie came back to the purpose of the call.
"I thought our superiors in Ottawa would be more forth coming with you." The old frustration of being black listed because of Gerard flared. It had been the better part of twenty years since he'd turned in his father's partner for murder.
"I'm sorry, Benton. I'm just as wary of this as you are."
"Thank you for trying regardless, Maggie." Ben sighed, he felt too old for this kind of cloak and dagger business.
"May I speak to Aunt Maggie?" Ben asked, standing in the door way of the living room.
"Here's Ben, Dief says to give Aurora his regards." Fraser handed the cell phone to his son.
"Hey, Aunt Maggie ..." Ben stood up from his chair, the sound of the conversation trailing off. He wandered into his bedroom. It wasn't large, it didn't have to be. He had a twin size bed in the center of the wall to the right, a night stand with a reading lamp to the left, a dresser beside the door and an old, military foot locker in the corner. In the closet to the left was Benton's red serge uniform, hat press, and spare Stetson. Ben had laughed out loud when he saw that his dad had an ironing board and iron tucked away in his closet. The only time he'd ever seen Victoria use an iron was when she put an iron-on patch over the holes in his jeans.
"Let's see, where did I put that pack?" Benton said to himself as he knelt down and opened the foot locker. The metal frame of the wooden chest was cold to the touch. It had been battered, beaten and had been dragged half way around the world during World War II. Carefully, the Mountie set the lid off to the side and began looking for the old, canvas pack he preferred. A shaft of light through the window of the third floor apartment struck a green, leather bound photo album. On impulse, the Mountie pulled the dusty tome out and began flipping through it. Mostly it was photos of his early days at the Chicago Consulate. One of him on sentry duty came first, then one of Ray Vecchio posed with him as he was on sentry duty, another sentry duty shot with Diefenbaker at his side, four more of Fraser on sentry duty, (those were the days when Inspector Thatcher had been out to get him), one of Turnbull on sentry duty, and somewhere near the back was one that caught the Mountie off guard completely. Meg stood in the consulate ballroom wearing a black, velvet evening gown with a sweet heart neck line, her hair in a long, sleek bob. She wasn't smiling, but there was a cool, mysterious air about her as she stood with one hand on her hip and the other toying with the cameo necklace she wore at her throat. It had been a lifetime ago that Benton had looked into those dark, alluring brown eyes. It felt like someone else's life he'd been living when they'd shared a forbidden moment on top of that runaway train. He'd been another man that day as they'd been bound, his arms wrapped around her curves, and her arms around his waist. The smell of fresh hay always brought back the memory of bobby pins and black lace.
"Who's that, Dad?" Ben's voice pulled Fraser back from across the miles and memories. Turning, he saw Ben standing at the foot of his bed.
"Someone I worked with years ago." Benton smiled wistfully.
"She's pretty." Ben sat down beside his dad on the bed and took the album from him. "What's her name?" The boy examined her face carefully, wondering at the Mona Lisa smile captured by the camera's shutter.
"Meg, I mean Inspector Margaret Thatcher." Fraser grimaced, knowing the boy had caught on to his gaff.
"Meg, eh? So, did you two have something together?" Ben flipped through the album, watching his father's reaction from the corner of his eye. The red glow creeping up his neck answered better than Fraser ever could have.
"She was my superior officer at the consulate, I respected and admired her greatly." Benton tried to shrug it off, to act like seeing her face, even in a photograph, didn't take his breath away.
"So, it was complicated, as they say." Ben handed him back the album. Quickly, Fraser put it back in the foot locker and replaced the lid.
"You have no idea." The Mountie answered without looking up.
"I don't have any half brothers or sister out there somewhere do I?" Ben teased his dad, elbowing him.
"No, not that I'm aware of." Fraser answered, rising from his seat on the bed to look in the bottom of his closet for the pack.
"Good, because I don't want you coming back as a ghost like Grandpa Bob to explain things." The boy continued, only half teasing.
"Never fear, I intend to stay in the hereafter. I promise I won't bother a living soul." Fraser went along with the joke.
"Good, I mean I liked Grandpa Bob's visits, but they always came at the worst times." Ben laid back on the bed, his head dangling off the opposites side. That statement started the ball rolling on Fraser's story telling. It didn't happen very often but Ben found that his dad could tell some interesting and very funny stories about his experiences.
Three Days Later …
"Hurry up, our flight leaves at nine o'clock." Benton tried to quicken his son's pace as he brushed his teeth before leaving for O' Hare Airport.
"Dad, it's six o'clock in the morning, I've been packed for a day and a half, relax." Ben mumbled through his toothbrush and foaming paste.
"We still have to deal with Diefenbaker." Fraser reminded his son. The boy just shook his head and finished brushing his teeth.
"I'm ready." The boy blinked a few times before yawning.
"Then we are off." Fraser said enthusiastically. Ben sighed and grabbed his large duffel bag. Fraser shouldered his pack and adjusted his Stetson. Diefenbaker trotted out the door first, his tail a white flag as he circled around to wait for his humans to join him. There was adventure in the air and his keen nose could smell it. What he didn't realize was that he'd been stuck in a cage for a few days and miss the start of it all.