DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO OWN SAMANTHA ROSS, OR FLACK, WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL HER, AND KELLAN AND KALLISON FLACK.
A/N: THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER AS REQUESTED BY MANY READERS AND THE MUSE. FOR THOSE WHO LIKE TO GET A VISUAL ON CHARACTERS, I BASED DON FLACK SR ON ACTOR GABRIEL BYRNE AND PATRICIA FLACK ON SELA WARD.
HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY FLACKIE CHRISTMAS
"Call on your angels
Come down to the city
Crowd around the big tree
All you strangers who know me
Bring your compassion
Your understanding
Lord how we need it
On this New York City Christmas
Yeah I'm sending you a Merry New York Christmas
And a prayer for peace on earth
Within our time
Oh, the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah
And we understand them
Now more than ever
So call on your angels
Your beaten and broken
It's time that we mend them
So they don't fade with the season
Let our mercy be the gifts we lay
From Brooklyn to Broadway
And celebrate each and every day
This New York City Christmas."
-A New York Christmas, Matchbox 20
Samantha glanced up from her sitting position on the laminate floor as her husband, clearly agitated, stomped into the living room. Surrounded by duffel bags holding changes of clothes and pyjamas and personal items for the entire family and boots and extra hats and mitts for the twins, she was supervising her daughters as they sat in front of her, arguing over who was going to manage to get their little black patent leather shoes on first. The twins hated to be assisted with anything. Even though they were only five, they had their parents' senses of determination and tenacity. And their mother's fierce desire for independence.
Assisting the twins meant sitting there and watching patiently as they struggled with buckles or laces and sometimes witnessing their frustration when they put shoes on the wrong feet. The hardest part was struggling to keep yourself from jumping in and doing the task for them. For now they were getting on quite well. Dressed up for Christmas at their grandparents in their matching black velvet crushed pants and their cream coloured chenille sweaters that shimmered in the light from the mother of pearl beads spread through out. While Kellan sported the pig tails and Hello Kitty baubles that her father had so lovingly and patiently done for her, Kallison wore her black hair loose and flowing save for thick strands on either side of her face that were brought back to the back of her head and secured with a sparkling red and green barrette in the shape of a candy cane.
In reality the damn thing was as tacky as hell. But Kallison had insisted, on a trip into the Dollar Store with her grandmother last week, that she just had to have it. Both girls were enamoured of the store near grandma and grandpa's house. No overnight or weekend visit was complete without a trip there and ten dollars a piece -supplied by grandpa- spent on whatever their little hearts desired. Flack was mortified whenever he was with the girls and they insisted on going in the place. But it only took a couple of minutes of whining and begging to get him to relent.
Sam had balked at the idea of putting the barrette in her daughter's tresses for Christmas dinner. It was cheap plastic and held even cheaper stones, although Kallison insisted they were real jewels. But set against that silky black hair, that one dollar piece of crap sparkled majestically and looked stunningly beautiful.
"Where's Melanie?" Sam asked.
"Sulking out on the front porch," Flack replied, slipping his work issued cell phone out of the holder attached to the waist of his pants and flipping it open.
Although he was scheduled to be off for three days and was not technically on call, the chief of detectives had asked all her employees to leave their cells on in case of a dire emergency. Save for a terrorist attack or an alien invasion, Flack had no immediate plans of answering the damn thing when, and if, it rang during his holidays.
"You can't just leave her out there," Sam told him. "Standing on our front porch in the dead of winter."
"She won't be out there long. I'm calling her a cab. Then I'm going to go out there when it gets here, physically shove her in and then toss the driver twenty bucks and ship her off to my folks."
"We're going to the same place, Donnie," she said.
"I know. And we're going to the same place separately."
"It's only a twenty minute drive," Sam pointed out.
"Which with Mel, will seem like a twenty year one. You know what she's like, Sammie. Especially when she's using."
"Using what daddy?" Kallison asked, her brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to do up the buckle on her shoe.
"Nothing, pumpkin eater. Don't worry about it. You need some help?"
"I can do it," his daughter informed him adamantly.
"You don't know for a fact that she's on anything," Sam said to her husband, as she did the buckles up on Kellan's shoes.
"Sam…come on. Did you get a good look at her? She looks like a crack whore."
"What does that mean, daddy?" Kellan asked, turning curious blue eyes up at him.
"Donald!" Sam scolded him and grabbed a hold of Kallison's jacket and swatted him in the legs with it.
"It means that she's the type of person I don't want around you and your sister," Flack told his daughter.
"Like a bad person?" Kallison asked, plopping her feet in her mother's lap for assistance.
"A very bad person," Flack replied.
"Don, don't tell them things like that," Sam huffed. "You're going to scare them. And it's Christmas. And Melanie is your sister regardless of all her issues and how messed up she is. Show that you're the bigger person and extend the proverbial olive branch for one day. I don't want to be going to your parents and her getting on your back about being such a jerk. No one needs to hear that during the holidays and you know she'll cause problems whether it's Christmas or not."
"Considering the mess she made of your brother I would have thought she'd be the last person you'd want around."
Sam sighed heavily. Holding her hand up to him after finishing the twins' shoes. "That was eight years ago, Donnie."
"And it's been about that long since the two of you said a word to each other. Are you telling me that you're going to play nice with her just because it's Christmas?" he asked, taking a hold of her hand and helping her to her feet. "After what she did to Adam?"
"It was a long time ago. Adam got over it. He's married with two beautiful children. He's not dwelling over your sister and that's the way it should be."
"Maybe I don't find it that easy to forgive her for messing him around like that and killing his baby."
"Someone killed a baby?!" Kellan gasped, and burst into tears at the mere thought.
Flack bent down and effortlessly scooped his daughter's tiny body up into his arms. Kissing the side of her head and stroking her back in an attempt to console her as she curled her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.
Sam glared at her husband. "I never said that I forgave her. I'll never forgive her. I'm just saying that it's Christmas and there's suppose to be peace on earth and goodwill towards men and all that other crap. So be the bigger person babe and suck it up and go out there and bring her in."
"Samantha, I don't want her around my kids."
"Our kids, Don. Our kids. And what is she going to do to them with us right there? It's not like we're leaving them alone with her."
Flack sighed heavily and shook his head.
"It's better then letting her freeze to death in front of our front door," Sam reasoned. "Just let her in and we'll give her a ride there and hope to God she behaves herself all day."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Your dad will whip her into shape. Seriously though, Donnie. What are we going to do? Leave her there and slip out the back? Hide out in here all day?"
"Don't make me regret this, Samantha," Flack warned, carrying his now whimpering five year old on his hip as he headed from the living room. "You make me regret this and…"
"And what?" she laughed. "Are you going to beat me up? Put me over your knee and spank me?"
"You'd like that too much," he called back from the front foyer.
Sam smirked.
"You like to be spanked, mommy?" Kallison looked horrified at the idea. "Spanking hurts! Why do you like it?"
"How about you pretend your daddy never, ever said that," Sam responded.
"But he did say it mommy," Kallison argued.
"I know. But how about we pretend he didn't. Okay? Because daddy says silly things and you shouldn't listen to him when he says silly things like that."
"Daddy says we always have to listen to him," the five year old said.
"Well not this time, okay? He's just goofing around. He didn't really mean it."
"But he sounded like he did."
"Well he didn't. Now do you have everything you want to take to grandma and grandpa's?" she asked, anxious to steer her daughter off of the present conversation. "You've got your blankie and your toothbrush and whatever toys you want to take?"
"I think I forgot my toothbrush," Kallison said and jumped to her feet and raced through the living room and up the stairs. The soles of her shoes thundering on the hardwood floors.
Sam sighed and glanced around the living room at the duffel bags and green garbage bags holding Christmas presents. Listening as her husband and his sister argued in the foyer about his apparent lack of manners. And how Melanie, in that annoying, whiny voice, got onto her older brother about his picture perfect life. His nice house in a decent neighbourhood and his fancy car and his pretty wife and their two perfect, sugar and spice little girls. About how he was probably warm and snug in said house with said wife and said kids while she was in a ratty, crap hole of an apartment with barely any heat and no food to eat.
Sam wanted nothing more than to go out into that foyer and smack the living shit out of the bitch. The woman who'd once declared a life of ever ending love and celibacy with Adam, only to nearly destroy him in the end of their disastrous relationship. They'd only spent eight months together, but Melanie had gotten pregnant near the end of their 'thing'. Having her brother dating that nasty tramp was horrific enough for Sam. But when that skank had announced she was pregnant -thank God a baby was the only thing he'd gotten from her and he hadn't come out of the disastrous relationship with some sort of God awful STD- the shit had hit the proverbial fan. Melanie announced right away she was having an abortion. No ifs, ands of buts. No matter how hard or much Adam begged and pleaded. No matter if Samantha and Flack, only living together at the time, had tried to convince her to have the baby and give it up to its father. They would help Adam, to the best of their abilities, to raise the child.
She'd have nothing to do with them, Adam or the baby and went ahead and booked the appointment for the abortion. Her brother, by tracing her cell phone calls and eventually breaking into her apartment, had managed to find out the date, time and location and be waiting on the clinic's door step when she arrived. A passionate argument had ensued between them, and Flack was sure he had gotten through to her. He'd managed to talk her out of the abortion and had brought her home to his and Sam's place.
Both of them had promised to see her through every step of the pregnancy and then assist, in whatever way possible, helping her and Adam care for their child. Melanie had no desire to be with Adam and had told him so. Breaking his heart in the process. He had been wildly and crazily in love with her and had been convinced he was the person who could tame her and make her happy. Melanie had used him. Out of Adam she'd gotten a place to stay and someone to foot her bills. Sam had held her breath and bit her tongue and stayed out of her brother's business. But she'd wanted to kill the woman for fucking with her Peanut.
They'd gotten Melanie a top notch OB -thanks to a referral from Hawkes- and made sure she was taking pre-natal vitamins and folic acid. They bought her maternity books and paid most of her expenses out of pocket.
Until three days shy of her fourth month, Adam had called his sister in a state while Sam was at work and told her that Melanie had showed up at his place telling him that she had taken care of the problem. There was no baby.
And that she wanted the money from him to cover the cost of the abortion.
Melanie Flack had been an unwelcome fixture ever since. Flack had kicked her out of his apartment and essentially out of his life. He saw her once or twice a year for the last eight years and that was fine with him. He called her to tell her he was engaged and then three months later when he returned from Turks and Caicos a married man. When the twins had been born prematurely and Sam had been so sick and needed the hysterectomy, he'd let his parents pass the move along. Melanie had never so much as offered up a congratulations or sent cards and never came to see her nieces or her ill sister in law in the hospital. The girls were a year old and having their very first part at grandma and grandpa's house when their Aunt Mel finally saw them. After that, she made occasional stops at the house but never made an effort to get close to the twins.
And that was just fine with Sam and Flack. And Kellan and Kallison didn't seem to give two shits either. They had their mommy and their daddy and their grandparents. Both in New York City and in Arizona. They had more aunts and uncles then they could count on the fingers on both their hands. Not having Melanie in their lives wasn't robbing them of anything. If anything it was sparing them of lifetime of disappointment.
Thank God Christmas only comes once a year, Sam thought with a sigh. Because I only need to be civil to that bitch for about eight hours.
Anything more would be simply unbearable.
"Hi, Kallison," Melanie gushed in an over friendly, aggravating voice as she ran a hand over her niece's hair. "Don't you just look so pretty today!"
"I'm not Kallison!" the little girl cried. "I'm Kellan!"
"Well excuse me," Melanie snorted. "Hasn't your dad taught you it's not nice to talk back to people?"
"I'm not talking back," Kellan informed her in an equally snotty voice. "I am telling you the way it is."
"Hey," Flack gave his daughter a warning look. "Don't be smart with your mouth, okay? Why don't you go and see if mommy needs some help getting things packed up for spending the night at grandma and grandpa's. Go and see that all of Wiener's toys and his treats are in a bag. Okay?"
Kellan nodded as her dad set her down on the floor. "Can I bring two toys to grandma and gwampa's house, daddy?"
"What did mommy say?" he asked, smoothing down the back of his daughter's sweater and brushing lint off of her pants.
"She said just one 'cause there's already lots of other toys there to play with and what Santa might have left for us there."
"Santa doesn't leave spoiled brats presents," Melanie informed her niece.
Kellan's eyes narrowed. "I am not a spoiled brat," she huffed. "I was a good girl all year. Daddy said so."
"I find that hard to believe considering who your mother is," Melanie grumbled. "The queen bitch of spoiled brats."
"Mommy's not a bitch!" Kellan screamed. "You are!"
"Kellan…" Flack laid his hands lightly on her tiny shoulders and steered her in the direction of the living room. "You go and see if mommy needs any help, okay? I'm going to have a nice chat with Auntie Mel."
"Make her say sorry, daddy!" the five year old demanded, hands on her hips, lips pursed.
"Kellan…" he said calmly. "Please go and find mommy."
"But that's mean, daddy! What Auntie Mel said! And you said that when we say mean things we have to say sorry for hurting the person's feelings! You said that daddy! Don't you 'member?"
"I do remember and it was a mean thing to say, but your Auntie Mel is less mature then you are so it's better to not expect an apology from her. So go and find your mommy and we'll get going soon. Alright?"
"Fine…" Kellan huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she prepared to stomp out of the foyer.
"Okay, okay," Melanie relented. "I apologize, sweet pea. I'm sorry."
Kellan's blue eyes sparkled with hope. "You do?"
"Sure I do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your mother is such a spoiled, rotten little bitch."
Kellan stared at her aunt for several seconds before bursting into tears and storming off into the living room. Flack was torn between going after her to comfort her, and throttling his sister. The answer on what to do first was made clear when he heard his wife asking their daughter what was wrong and then Kellan explaining, between gasps and sobs, what had happened. Judging by the soothing, soft tone in Sam's voice afterwards and Kellan's whimpering, his wife had obviously taken the five year old into her arms for comfort.
He turned furious blue eyes on the woman standing a mere foot away.
"You really need to get that kid some help, Donnie," Melanie told him. "Like up here…" she pointed to her head. "'Cause she's got something wrong with her being that sensitive. Guess she gets being loco from her mother, too."
Flack reached out and laid a hand on his sister's shoulder and pinned her forcefully to the front door. "Listen to me you strung out, nasty, mangy little bitch," he began in a low, threatening tone. "I only offered you a ride to mom and dad's because my wife asked me to be the bigger person in all of this. Because it's Christmas. But what I really want to do is toss your ass out on the street where you belong. With all your slutty friends and your pimp and your dealer and whoever else is in your little entourage. I could give a shit less whether you end up dead in a gutter or sleeping somewhere in a cardboard box. Don't fuck with me, Melanie."
"Oh aren't you just husband and father of the year," she sneered. "Going all defensive and protective of the love of your life and your two perfect little angels."
"Melanie, I am warning you. Keep your mouth off of my wife and my girls. You say one more word about them and I will bury you. Understand me?"
"Whatever happened between blood being thicker than water, huh?" tears welled in Melanie's eyes. "Ever since you met that fucking…"
"Don't say it," Flack warned. "Don't even think it."
"Ever since you met her it's been about her! Always about her! Your whole life suddenly revolved around her! You forgot all about your family! She turned you against me, Donnie! You let her come between us! Why does everything always have to be about her?!"
"Because she's my wife, Melanie!" Flack bellowed. "She's the love of my life! My everything! She was always there for me, having my back, through all the dumb things I did or said. She always put up with my shit and took me back every time we hit a shitty spot. She married me and puts up with me day in and day out no matter what crap I dump on her. She gave me my daughters! Those girls and their mother are my world. Plain and simple. What part of that don't you understand?"
"I was your family long before they!…" Melanie gestured wildly towards the living room. "…came along!"
"You're my sister, Mel. That's it. And you and I stopped being close a long time ago when you decided to become the person that you are! You think I'd just stand by and think it's okay seeing you destroy yourself? Booze and drugs and taking money for sex? You actually think I'd let you toss my name around each time you were brought in on something? Use me as your get out of jail free card?"
"Well excuse me if I was never perfect like you. The prodigal son. Daddy's pride and joy."
Flack snorted. "I don't know what planet you're living on, Mel, but things between dad and I have never been perfect. He was a bastard to all of us growing up, but I seemed to get the beats and the name calling more than Chris did. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him, remember? He shit on me every chance he got. Remember what he said to me when I graduated from the academy? I never got a congratulations, son. I got a don't make me and the family look bad, Don. I was blown up in a building and nearly died and he never stepped foot in my hospital room for five months! So don't stand here and give me this shit that I'm his prodigal son. You were his baby! His pride and joy! He picked on us boys and left you alone and spoiled you rotten. He would have hung the moon for you! And how did you repay him? You became a drunk, a druggie and a goddamn prostitute. Boy, I am sure daddy is just so proud of you."
With that he turned on his heel and headed for the living room.
Melanie stared at her brother's broad shoulders and strong back as he departed. "You just think you're so fucking perfect, Donnie!" she cried. "You and your house and your pretty wife and your beautiful kids! You and your picture perfect, Norman Rockwell life!"
He stopped in his tracks. His body tensing up before sighing heavily and turning back to his sister. Pity and loathing in his eyes. "You know nothing about me, or my family, Melanie," he said. "You never took the time to get to know my wife or my kids. The only time you ever wanted anything to do with Samantha was when we were just dating and you thought you could hit her up for cash to support your habit. Give her some sob story about needing to pay your rent or some other crap. Toss in how mean and unfair I was to you so she'd feel sorry for you and help you out. Once she realized you were just using her and taking her for granted, she cut you loose. But only after I told her to stay the hell away from you because you'd drag her down. And I couldn't let that happen to her."
"And who is she?" Melanie snorted, wiping at her tears. "Miss fucking perfect? The Queen of the Universe? She's never done anything wrong or made a bad choice or screwed up?"
"You know what, Mel? Sam's made a lot of bad mistakes and terrible choices and had some pretty monumental fuck ups in her time. But she's paid for all of them. She's my wife. And if you can't keep your mouth off of her, then you need to get the hell out of my house. And NEVER come back. Understand me?"
"You think you're so great, Donnie? That you can talk down to me? Well guess what? I know things about you, too."
"Give it up, Melanie. You can insult me all you want. I know all the screw ups I've had. And they're all a long time ago."
"If Dad's disappointed in anyone it's you," she continued, sniffling noisily, vehemence in her voice. "Do you have any idea how much you broke his heart that you couldn't even give him a grandson? That his first born couldn't even have a boy to carry on the family name?"
Flack couldn't help but laugh. "Carry on the family name? What is this? The eighteen hundreds? Give me a goddamn break. He loves his granddaughters, Melanie. Loves them to death. They're the apples of his eye. He's just proud he was given too healthy, happy and incredibly beautiful and smart grand kids. Doesn't matter to him, and it didn't matter five years ago, if they're boys or girls. He just loves them."
"And how come you got that, Donnie?" she whined. "How come you got the perfect little family and the…"
"We are not perfect, Mel!" he snapped. "And it insults me that you keep saying that! We are far from perfect! We have our issues and our struggles and you know what? Right now, despite how nice this place looks and the fact we've got food on the table every night and nice clothes to wear and all that other shit? Right now things actually suck pretty bad. Do you know how sick Sam is?"
Melanie shook her head. "No one tells me anything," she complained.
"And you know why no one tells you? Because deep down we all know you don't give a shit. Just like you didn't care when the twins came early and Sam was going through some pretty heavy shit. You were too busy worrying about your next fix to give a crap about anyone else. So excuse me if a, I find you completely full of shit, and b, I find you the most pathetic person I've ever laid eyes on. And if you can't talk better about my wife and my kids, then you take your ass on out that door and…"
"Donnie?" Sam's voice, soft and tentative, broke into his tirade. Her hand settled lightly on the small of his back. A small sign of both support, and and attempt to calm him down. "I just need to get the girls' coats. And mine. We're going to start taking stuff aside and I'll buckle them in and…"
"I'll take the stuff out to the car," he told her and moved towards the closet. "You put those little boot things over their shoes already?"
She nodded. Avoiding her sister in law's furious gaze as she watched her husband toss open the hall closet and yank the girls' snowsuits, Sam's jacket and his own from their hangers.
"I'll get them bundled up and they can play outside while I load stuff in," Flack said.
"Don, I can…"
"It's okay, babe," he assured her, giving her a gentle smile and pecking her cheek lightly before handing her her soft pink wool pea coat and black and pink stripped chenille scarf. The matching gloves stuffed in the pockets. "I need to get some air. Cool down. We'll be leaving in a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay," she said meekly and accepted a small kiss on the lips before he headed into the living room to tend to the twins. She sighed heavily and turned to the teary eyed and flushed face woman standing before her.
"What?" Melanie asked snottily. "Problem?"
Sam gave an overly polite smile. "Merry Christmas, Melanie."
Her sister in law snorted.
"You know, you don't have to make the holidays miserable for everyone," Sam said, shrugging into her coat. "I've got two little girls that love Christmas and are just happy that they're getting to spend three days with their daddy. Don't ruin it for them, okay?"
"You think I give a shit about you or them? While you're living here with food on your table and you're nice and warm and comfortable, I'm stuck in my crappy dungeon of a place eating from a soup kitchen."
"You're not the only one having hard times, Mel. A lot of people are in that boat. The only difference between you and some of them is that you had a choice to make something better of yourself. Your mom and dad offered to help you out. They told you that you could stay with them and get yourself cleaned up, get you back into school so you could further your education and get a better job. So you could get off the welfare and not have to wait tables or sling drinks."
"Well maybe I like being in the customer service industry," she huffed.
"So that's what they're calling selling yourself on the street these days?" Sam asked. "Classy."
Melanie glared at the petite brunette. "You have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
"I know enough. I know that you had all these chances to do something with yourself. Your brother, my husband, offered to get you into rehab. He even offered to pay for your treatment! He said if you got clean he'd help you get a decent place to live and start a new life for yourself."
"Oh he's such a fucking martyr," Melanie snorted.
"He's your brother," Sam said. "And he loves you and wants to help you."
"He loves me!" Melanie laughed. "Only people he loves are you and those brats of his."
Sam sighed heavily and shook his head. "Sticks and stones, Mel. You know, one day, when you really need someone, Donnie's not going to be around. He's not going to be so willing to help and you're not going to have anyone. Is that what you really want? To alienate everyone?"
"You just think my brother is so fucking great. That there's nothing he can't do. That he's perfect in every way."
"Oh give this perfect stuff a rest, Mel. I know your brother isn't perfect. And he's never going to be. But you know what? I'm not perfect either and we accept that of each other. We love each other. And that love is what gets us through everything. Through all the bullshit and all the heartache. And if you'd clean yourself up, maybe you'd find someone yourself."
Melanie laughed. "Someone like who? Your brother? Give me a break. A dork like that? He's lucky I even gave him the time of day. I tell you, I must have been seriously drunk and stoned to ever even let him within five feet of me and…"
Sam silenced her with a hard, loud slap across the face. "Don't you ever, EVER talk about my brother like that again. My brother is an amazing, wonderful guy with two beautiful kids and a lovely wife. And if you ever utter a bad word about him again, I won't think twice about handing you your ass? Understand me?"
"You fucking bitch!" Melanie hissed at her, a hand over her wounded cheek. "You're a freak just like he is. How in the hell does my brother even put up with you? You and all your crazy bullshit? The depression and this make believe illness you've got everyone feeling sorry for."
"First off, Mel.." Sam advanced on her. "Your brother and I have been through hell and back and he's always supported me through all the rough times. And second, it's not a make believe illness. And I am telling you right now, if I wasn't in as much pain as I am right now, I would beat your ass and toss you out the front door! So shut your trap and show some respect while you're in my house. I'm not scared of you or your pathetic friends."
"You should be!" Melanie shouted after her sister in law as she turned and headed into the living room.
"We'll be waiting outside when you decide to grow up!" Sam called back.
Tears of rage and hurt spilled down Melanie Flack's face as she stood alone in the foyer, her arms crossed over her chest.
The truth was, as much as she hated her sister in law for taking her brother away from her, she was also jealous. Jealous of the obvious love and respect and affection that existed between her brother and his wife. It was in the way their eyes sparkled when they looked at each other. In the small touches and the gentle smiles.
She wanted someone to love her like that. To take her away from her pitiful existence. She had had that once. In Adam. She had had that love and lost it. She had treated him horribly and regretted it each and every day.
On top of that, she loved him. She admitted it to no one but herself. She loved him then and she loved him now.
And would never, ever get over him.
The small three bedroom grey brick home in Flushing, Queens was decorated festively for the holidays. Multicolored mini lights framed each window and were wrapped around the trunk of the large oak tree in the center of the front yard. More lights were nestled into the bushes along the driveway and a wreath, handmade by Patricia Flack years ago and boasted a massive blue ribbon with gold piping along the edges and spray pointed gold pine cones sat proudly on the front door. A massive air filled snow globe with Santa Claus and his reindeer sat anchored next to the old tree. The snow globe had been a treat from Don Flack Sr to his precious granddaughters a week ago. When they'd gone along with him to a trip to Home Depot and had fallen in love with the snow globe the moment their little eyes caught site of it. And, like most dotting grandfathers, he'd been unable to say no.
Those girls, just as their father had said less than a half an hour before, were his pride and joy. They were beautiful and innocent and precocious. Two little balls of energy that kept him on his toes and nearly brought tears to his eyes every time they tossed their arms around his neck and kissed his cheek and said, "I love you, gwampa." Kellan and Kallison were his babies. He carried pictures of them in his wallet. Several, in fact. Two were of the girls just hours old in the hospital. He also had one of them at their first birthdays with chocolate cake in their hair and smashed in their faces and one for each year of pre-school. And the most recent, the ones he showed off and looked at the most, of them in their school uniforms. He was the quintessential proud grandfather. There was nothing he wouldn't do for those girls. Or their mother for that matter. He adored his daughter in law. She'd taken his son and turned him into a man. Into a father and a husband. And the transformation from boy to man was startling.
Flack Sr was making up for all of his past mistakes. Or at least trying to. He'd been a bastard to his son from the moment that kid was born. He treated him like a second class citizen when he should have been taking an active role in his upbringing. He looked down at him whenever his first born tried his damndest to make him proud. Even more appalling, was the physical abuse he'd rained down on his two boys. The by-product of a stressful job and a battle with the bottle, he'd laid beatings on those boys so fierce it was a surprise they could walk or even function properly for days after. He'd never been able to swallow his pride long enough to ever apologize. He'd washed his hands of Chris. He was a disgrace and not welcome in the home. But his oldest boy deserved a hell of a lot better than the old man he'd be given.
His son was a good man. Strong and dependable. Loyal and trustworthy. A loving husband and fantastic father. Traits he'd certainly never picked up from the male role model in his life. He was making a hell of a name for himself in the department too. Sr's heart swelled with pride when he thought about the collars and high profile busts his son had under his belt. When he thought about how fast his boy had climbed the ladder and continued to do so. He'd never come right out and tell his son he was proud of him. That wasn't Sr's style. But unknown to anyone, he kept a journal with every date and massive bust his son had wracked up to date. And clippings from the paper from the high profile cases he'd successfully solved.
One day, maybe as he was leaving the world, he'd take his son's hand or hug him and kiss him and tell him he'd done good. That he'd made him proud.
But until then, those words would remain tucked away in his heart and mind.
"Donald…" Patricia said from behind him as she entered the living room, wearing a simple black pencil skirt and thick black leggings and a crisp white blouse.
Her shoulder length dark hair framed her still youthful face and her brown eyes sparkled gloriously. She carried a platter of Christmas cookies and various other sweets -all homemade- that she placed on the card table her husband had set up earlier. She'd insisted on using the damn thing, and covering it with an elaborate gold and red and silver table cloth she'd spent a fortune on.
"What, dear?" he asked with a sigh, as he stood at the front window, looking out at the snow covered street.
"Your babies will be here soon," she assured him. "No sense staring out like that. A watched pot never boils, you know."
"Did you phone them?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he turned away from the window. "See what's taking them so long?"
"I just spoke to your son less than ten minutes ago," she replied, smoothing her skirt down.
"And…"
"And they were on their way. Donnie said they got a little held up at home."
"Girls giving them a hard time?"
"Girl," Patricia corrected. "Your daughter."
Flack Sr frowned. "What the hell is she doing with them?"
"She showed up on their doorstep apparently and wanted a ride here."
"Well she's not welcome here," he declared. "You tell her that? I thought you told her that when you talked to her last week."
"I did," Patricia said, walking over the Christmas tree in the far corner of the room.
A seven foot Douglas Fir that her husband had spent a ridiculous amount of money on. All because it was the one that their granddaughters had declared perfect when they took them tree shopping a week ago. The girls had stayed the weekend and had had a great time decorating the tree with grandma and grandpa. They'd made stringed popcorn and construction paper garland to go along with the multitude of ornaments they'd crafted through the last two years with brightly painted popsicle sticks and glitter covered macaroni.
The bottom was covered in a red velvet tree skirt embellished with patterns of candy canes and snow men. Although the skirt was nearly invisible underneath the unbelievable mound of waiting to be opened presents. On top of two of the larger presents were stockings. One Strawberry Shortcake with the name Kellan written across the top in pink sparkles, and the other Cinderella with the name Kallison across the top in blue glitter. Both stuffed to the gills.
And there was no forgetting a third stocking. A simple red and green stocking bursting with doggie treats.
"Well apparently your daughter is hard of understanding," Flack Sr grumbled. "I don't like her kind around my girls."
Patricia smiled. "Your girls? They're your son's girls, my love."
"You know what I mean. They're my grand babies and the thought of Melanie being around them…"
"Donnie and Samantha are very watchful of Kallison and Kellan. You know that. If they felt Melanie was a threat to them, they wouldn't allow her anywhere near them."
"She shouldn't be around them twins," Sr huffed. "She didn't give a shit about them or their mother when they were in the hospital. Only reason she comes around is to hit Donnie up for money. Money he needs to take care of them girls and their mother."
"Your son is doing a fine job providing for his family, Donald. And remember what I told you. No asking about the adoption agencies. They were turned down again and it's hit them hard this time."
"I don't get that shit at all," he sighed. "They're good people. They work hard. Take care of their kids and love them. What the hell is wrong with these agency people? They don't think our boy and his girl can take care of a baby? They took care of twin babies just fine."
"It has nothing to do with how well they take care of the children they have now," Patricia told him. "But everything to do with Samantha's illness. They're worried she wouldn't be able to take care of a baby properly with her condition. You know there's days she can barely get out of bed. And Donnie's had to either rely on us or take time off and take care of them girls himself."
"Nothing I wouldn't do for those girls or my daughter in law," her husband informed her. "The girl is sick. Don't go talking bad about her."
Patricia held her hands up in self defence. "I was merely saying…"
"Well don't say it," he said gruffly. "What about that little floozy you know from the church?"
"She is not a floozie," his wife informed him. "She's a young girl that got herself into a bad situation."
"She's sixteen and pregnant. Makes her a floozy in my book. Who she belong to again?"
"She's Jim and Judy Wilkes' granddaughter."
Flack Sr snorted. "Well if she inherited her brains from her grandfather I can see why she's in the predicament she's in. Guy was useless under my watch out of the three-five. She given up the kid or what?"
"She wants to find a family herself apparently."
"Well tell her we got the perfect family and hand over our son's number. Donnie and Samantha would kill to have another baby. Tell the little floozy to make arrangements to meet them. They're great parents."
"I have given Jim their number," Patricia assured him. "There's only so much I can do, honey. And please, don't mention it, or the agencies to your son and his wife."
"Why would I do that? I'm not an idiot. I'm not in the profession of hurting their feelings, Pat."
She smiled at her husband as she sidled up next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "You are such a grumpy old fart," she declared.
"And you're a naggy old witch," he told her. Grinning - a mirror image of the grin his oldest son possessed- he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "And I love you more today then yesterday but less then tomorrow."
"You are a sappy, grumpy old fart," Patricia laughed. "And I love you, too."
He kissed his wife gently. A hand on the side of her delicate face. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he said, pecking her forehead.
"Merry Christmas my love," she said. "And many, many more."
He wrapped his arm around his wife's slender waist and held her tight to his side, eyes closed as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
They stood there for several minutes, enjoying the peacefulness of their home.
The sound of tires crunching on the snow in front of the house broke the moment and their eyes flickered open and looked out the window. Spying the familiar black Mitsubishi Outlander parked in front of their home. Their son behind the wheel killing the engine.
"I think I should go out there and give them a hand," Flack Sr said, kissing his wife a final time before breaking away from him.
"You just want to be the first grandparent those girls see," Patricia laughed, watching her oldest boy out the window. How he went around to the front passenger door and opened it and offered his wife his hand and helped her out. Then went to the back door and popped it open and began unbuckling the twins from their car seats.
"I would never allow them to play favourites," Flack Sr said from the front door, as he stepped out into the cold in just a pair of running shoes and his black dress pants and a white sweatshirt with the words Grandpa's Angels written on the front in red and yellow and green letters. The girls' names and hand prints on the back in blue. Patricia had got on him about wearing it for Christmas dinner. But he insisted he was wearing his favourite sweater for his two favourite girls.
A broad smile crossed Patricia's face as she witnessed through the window, the two loves of her husband's life come into his view. His entire face lighting up.
"GWAMPA!!!" Kellan cried ecstatically when her father put her down in the snow and she saw the familiar face coming down the front steps.
"GWAMPA!" Kallison echoed as she was set free as well.
"Come here, you two!" Sr exclaimed, kneeling down in the snow with his arms outstretched and his heart nearly bursting with love.
Tears welled in his wife's eyes as she she watched from inside the house. The way those two beautiful little girls tossed themselves at their grandfather and squealed happily as he embraced them both and stood up. Showering them with kisses and affection.
It had taken a lifetime, but Donald Flack Sr had become a new man.
And she'd be forever grateful to the two little girls responsible for changing him.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even the lurkers! But please, please, please review folks! Makes my day!
Special thanks to:
Laurzz
Hope4sall
muchmadness
Twinkeyrocks
ILuvPeterPetrelli
Soccer-bitch
Laplandgurl
Bluehaven4220
Forest Angel
wolfeylady
Celine-007
shopaholic20
