This may be the end of this story or I may put a little post script to it later. I am sorry I took so long to finish this, but this was a bad winter for me.

Mom has a bit of information for her readers. I suffer from depression as do three of my siblings. I don't expect any "poor thing" responses to this. Depression is an illness and it is about time I admitted I have it. It is treatable and if anyone out there thinks they might have this or any other mental illness try to get the treatment you need. Believe me, its worth the effort.

Thank you to Alice, my trusty beta reader, everyone who has read this story and a special thank you to those who reviewed it too. I make no money from this (darn) and write fanfiction for my pleasure (whoopie!).

Family Matters

Chapter Four

Albert Anderson stuffed himself into his heavy coat so he could take Whizzer out to do his business.

'Damn dog, doesn't even have a pedigree. Never wanted a damn dog. Barb wanted a dog for the kids but none of them took him after Barb died. None of them are picking up after him. How long are dogs supposed to live, anyway? Barb, all the boys are gone and all I have is an arthritic, fifteen year old mutt.'

Anderson bent down slowly to attach the leash to the old dog's collar. With each snap and creak of his own back and knees the Professor realized he was as arthritic as Whizzer.

'Family dog, but no family to help with Whizzer; sons and grandsons close enough to visit and all the company I have is the dog. It's New Year's Eve and I'm talking to myself… again. I'm not talking out loud, thank God, or the neighbours would decide I'd finally gone insane.'

Whizzer whimpered at the door and started pulling hard on his leash. Albert Anderson opened the door and was almost bopped in the face by Auggie's door knock.

"August, what are you doing here?"

Auggie's trademark smile wreathed his face. "I was hoping for some coffee and conversation, Happy New Year, Dad."

"Ah, yes… well, Happy New Year, but I have to walk the dog before he bursts."

"Whizzer," Auggie called as he crouched down to scratch the old pet behind the ears. "Is it time for a walk? Yes it is; I can tell by your whines."

"Well, before he ruins the welcome mat he needs to go out. There's coffee brewing. I'll be back soon; you can wait here until I get back."

"Or I can walk with you." Auggie turned to his father.

"Or you can walk with me," Anderson mused and then smiled. "The neighbours might just realize I still have a family."

Auggie kept quiet, it was no use engaging in verbal battle with his PhD. father when he was being sarcastic. So, folding his white cane Auggie waited for the Professor to lock the door.

"My hands are full, son. I don't know where you would grab on."

"That's okay, we'll do it this way," Auggie said as he put his hand on his fathers shoulder. "When did you get so short?"

"When all my sons decided to grow taller than me," Albert Anderson cast his eyes at his youngest. Auggie wasn't his tallest son but he still towered over him by several inches. "Are you ready?"

"Lead on, Dad."

The sound of Whizzer's huffing breaths was louder than the sound of his feet hitting the snowy sidewalk. Auggie could feel his father's proud, straight posture through the grip he had on the Professor's shoulder. Suddenly the picture of his mother and father walking arm in arm with a puppy sized Whizzer exploring the sidewalk in front of them filled his mind. As quickly as the image appeared, it was gone.

"Dad, do the Singh's still live across the street?"

"In a way, Vijay passed away last year, but Baljeet is still there with Samrath and Connie."

Auggie's eyebrows snapped up, "Sam still lives there? He always said he was moving to L.A. and forget Illinois ever existed."

"What can I say; he became a dermatologist, married Connie Farleigh and moved back to the old homestead when his father passed away. It seems some families stick together."

Auggie rolled his eyes. His father was not going to let go of his favourite sour grape. Well, Auggie didn't come here to pick a fight, so he said nothing and continued the frosty walk through the old neighbourhood. If only he didn't have to respond to the 'here, hold on for a minute' command from his father every time Whizzer called nature. It was the one time he could complain that his sense of smell was still top notch.

"We're home," the Professor announced as they turned in at the large, boxy building he called home. "I'll take Whizzer in through the back door, clean the salt off his paws and feed him." He unlocked the front door. "You go in the usual way."

Auggie entered on automatic pilot; in through the door, shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet and then he turned toward the kitchen and became lost. This was not his home; the last time he had been in this room was after his mother's funeral seven years before and then it had been full of friends and family. He shook his head and went back to the closet to retrieve his cane. Since this was not his home he would treat it like any other unfamiliar place. Auggie stood up straight, his left foot went forward, his cane swung right and he headed toward where he remembered the kitchen was.

"There's coffee in the pot," his father called from the boot room.

Auggie shook his head, exasperated. "I'll wait for you, Dad."

Professor Anderson absolutely bustled around the kitchen; he pulled out cups and saucers and poured the cream into the little pitcher that matched the sugar bowl. He wanted everything to be perfect for his prodigal son… well, all his sons were prodigal but August was the farthest away from home.

"Dad," Auggie reached out and, like a heat seeking missile, found his father's arm, "let's have that cup of coffee now."

"But I have cookies."

Auggie smiled, "I don't need cookies, Dad. I do need to talk to you."

Albert sat down.

"Dad, I have to ask you why you want to take care of me when you come to Washington. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

The Professor licked his lips… how was he going to explain what he wanted? "I was hoping that if could spend time together that I might help you. I know a lot of people who would propel you forward in your career. I know the Smithsonian is the attic of the nation, but it can't possibly pay you what you are worth."

"Well, there have been some cut backs but I like my job. Dad, this has been a very informative trip for me. I've talked to Tom, Greg, Butch and Cy and they all say the same thing; you want them to find a better job with a bigger pay check. You must know that being a professor of canon law doesn't pay the best, but it's what you love. We are all doing jobs we love so why the push toward the almighty dollar?"

"I just want my boys to be able to… to… to do the best for themselves."

"We do. Dad, we are all taking care of ourselves and our families. We do pretty well for ourselves." Auggie heard his father pull in his breathe through his teeth so he wrapped his hands round his coffee cup. "Dad, talk to me, I'm a good listener."

"I don't have a fortune to leave for my sons."

Auggie sat up straight, "so, we all earn good livings."

"But my father left Uncle Joseph, Uncle John and me a share of his money and I haven't really added anything to it." This was Albert's chance to make at least one of his sons understand his moral dilemma. "Actually, all I've done is use it. It bought this house. I bought a membership in the country club and I keep an apartment in South Bend. Sometimes it feels so damn wasteful."

Auggie started to chuckle, "yeah, we are all just waiting for you to die and make us thousand-aires." His hand ghosted over the table to his father's arm and Auggie gripped it tight. "The one thing that became apparent to me is that the Andersons need each other and not money. Mom's been gone for seven years and we kind of split apart. If you would just stop trying to run our lives and enjoy what we have would be great."

"I want to sell the house."

"Sell the damn house, Dad. We all have houses now. Go live in South Bend full time. Dad, you have gotta live your own life too." Auggie stopped and took a sip of his coffee and then winked in his father's direction. "Maybe you'd meet a rich widow to fill the family coffers."

"August," the Professor gasped.

"Or maybe you could just enjoy yourself for the rest of your life."

Albert Anderson actually laughed. "You're just like your mother, sarcastic and glib. You do know there are lots of museums closer to Chicago; unless there's another reason to stay in D.C.; a more personal reason."

Auggie put his cup down. "Actually, there is a big reason for me to stay in Washington. Sorry, but it something I've never felt good about telling you. I hope you're ready to hear it now because I got told to take you to Tom's tonight and I don't want to mess this up."

"I'm all ears, August."

"Well, this can't go any further than this room. Think of this like a confessional."

Professor Anderson stood up and smiled, "if it is this important I want to get the cookies before I start. I may need sustenance."

"Yeah, it is cookie worthy," Auggie smiled as he heard his father walk to the cupboard. If he could tell his father what he felt the man needed to hear Auggie had to be ready to tell him everything and maybe a cookie or two would help his secret go down.

Fin