CHAPTER ELEVEN

Author's note: I wondered how Martin's father had found out about Joan's affair with John Slater; she mentioned it was the reason he had stopped Martin visiting her, because he didn't approve of her infidelity. They didn't seem to be close at all; I doubt she would have confided in him about it. So how did he find out? This is my idea of how it may have happened.

Christopher stood stock still in the yard, watching this unexpected scenario play out in front of him, all the while wearing a smirk on his face. After so many years of Joan questioning her brother's moral integrity and acting the saint, he was almost gleeful to learn she had a little secret of her own. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, he thought. What bothered him, however, was that his son may have been exposed to this sort of behavior. It had been very easy to hide his own infidelity from Martin, because they simply were never around each other.

Joan and her lover both noticed Christopher standing there at the same time. The latter looked stricken, and without uttering a word, walked to his truck and sped off. Joan's face went white and she staggered back a step into the doorway, steadying herself on the wooden frame. 'What are you doing here?' she asked weakly when her brother had joined her at the door.

'I daresay I should be asking you that question,' Christopher answered glibly. 'Was that an early Christmas present?'

'Christopher, please...'

'What? Did I misinterpret it? Was it not what it looked like? Because it looked to me that my sister has a little something on the side.' He was enjoying making Joan squirm.

She took a deep breath. 'You obviously weren't meant to see that. He and I...we...won't be seeing each other anymore. Please, I beg you, not a word of this to Phil. I plan to tell him in time. Please, Chris, don't say anything.' Having to beg for anything from her brother made Joan feel physically ill, like signing a pact with the devil himself.

'Has my son been exposed to this affair?' Christopher asked sharply, pushing past Joan into the house. Unsteadily, she followed. 'Of course not!' she exclaimed indignantly. 'I would never...'

'So he's never seen the two of you together? He has never met this man?'

Joan paled again. 'Yes, they've met, but it was completely innocent. Marty has never seen...'

'He's seen enough. More than he should, at any rate. I can't believe you have been so careless in regards to the upbringing of my son!'

'You know full well I have done no such thing! I would never do anything to harm Marty, and in this situation he has only ever seen two friends on an outing together. And as I've said, it is not going to happen again. I'm not going to see him anymore.' Christopher snorted.

'Just like that, you'll not see him anymore. Well, that is completely believable,' he spat.

Joan had had enough. 'Why exactly are you here, my dear brother? And without your lovely wife? A bit odd that you aren't together on Christmas,' she said in mock surprise. He glowered at her.

'I am here to see my son,' he answered, his anger barely controlled.

'But of course the mother of your son couldn't be bothered.'

'This is not any of your business, Joan.'

'But my private life is your concern?' Joan exclaimed.

The two of them were standing in the kitchen across the table from each other, both looking as though they could come to blows if need be. Before they could continue arguing, Martin burst in the door, followed closely by a stricken- looking Phil.

'We're back, Aunty Joan...we found a great tree...' his exuberance faded as he recognized his father, and he stopped in his tracks. 'Dad?' he said warily.

'Hello, Martin,' Christopher stiffly replied.

'What...what are you doing here?'

Without thinking, his father answered, 'I've come to collect you and take you to London. I thought it would be nice to spend Christmas together in the city, stay in a posh hotel, that sort of thing.' The idea had just come to him in that split second, but he had to admit it sounded better than staying on this wretched farm with his meddling sister. Besides, he had to make sure Martin was away from her morally questionable behavior as soon as possible, before it adversely effected his development.

Martin's face fell and he said with trepidation, 'but...we just got the Christmas tree...I was to help decorate it...' He felt dread and panic invade his senses, and willed himself not to cry. 'I wanted to stay here for Christmas, Dad, you already said I could.'

'Yes, well, I've changed my mind. I'd like for you and I to have some time together.'

'Why don't you just stay here then?' Martin suggested hopefully. Christopher glanced at Joan, who was staring at him with a look of horror on her face. Phil hadn't moved from his spot in the corner of the room, and was now watching the scene uneasily.

'No, I'm afraid that's out of the question,' his father answered stonily.

'But Dad...please, I don't want to go to London. I want to stay here.' Martin tried to keep his voice calm; he knew whinging and begging would only make the situation much worse. He wanted badly to run into Aunty Joan's arms and refuse to go anywhere with his father. Besides, since when did he ever want to spend time with Martin? Why now? And where was his mother?

'Christopher, I know you aren't very happy with me right now,' Joan began, her voice trembling, 'but please don't take it out on Martin. He has been looking forward to his Christmas here. Why don't you stay here with us, that way you can be together, if that is what you want.'

Martin walked silently to where Joan was standing and took her hand, the two of them a united front. Christopher felt a pang of jealousy that his own son preferred to be with Joan, that he was ultimately choosing her over his father. Well, all of that was going to stop right now. His jealousy quickly turned to anger.

'Go pack your things, Martin,' he said with finality. 'We are leaving.'

Martin was too stunned, too devastated to protest. He knew there was no use trying to change his father's mind. He could tell something bad had happened between Dad and Aunty Joan, and it was something that was not going to be resolved any time soon. He woodenly walked out of the kitchen to gather his belongings, striding past Uncle Phil, who reached a hand out and briefly touched his shoulder. As soon as he was gone, Joan whispered, 'please don't do this, Christopher. You have just had a long trip, you're too tired to make this sort of decision now. At least stay here tonight and decide in the morning.'

'I agree with Joan,' Phil quickly added, although still a bit unsure as to what exactly was taking place. The casual information his nephew had given him about John Slater was very unsettling, and now Christopher had been thrown into the mix. He longed to sit down with his wife privately and get things sorted, but he knew he would get the chance soon enough; at the moment, his concern for Marty took over. 'No reason to rush off in such a hurry. Get a good night's rest, Chris, then see how you feel.'

'Phil, go and see if you can help Martin, would you? I'd like to have a word with my sister,' Christopher coldly replied. Phil hesitated, nodded once, and exited the room.

'This is Martin's last trip to visit you, Joan. From now on, he will spend his holidays with us in London or at school, but I think it will be best for all parties involved if he doesn't return here. I can't in good conscience allow it,' he said without hesitation. 'You have spoiled him, made him too soft. And now this affair as well...it is high time someone makes a proper man of him before it is too late.'

At his words, Joan slumped into a kitchen chair. 'No! You can't do this!' she choked, tears spilling from her eyes.

'I can and I am. Now, don't make a scene, Joan,' he warned, as his sister began to sob. 'I would be more than happy to bring Phil up to date on all the latest news before I leave. And you are not to mention my decision to Martin-I know he will only go into hysterics and make an ass of himself, and the last thing I need is him blubbing all the way to London.' Without another word, he went to the telephone and phoned for a taxi to come and collect them.

Joan's eyes shone with fury through her tears. 'You are a horrible, unfeeling man, Christopher,' she said quietly, with emotion. 'No matter how much you pretend, you will never be a proper father, not the one Martin deserves.'

Phil and Martin returned to the kitchen then, Phil carrying Martin's heavy suitcase. Joan could easily see her nephew had been crying, but now stood silently, his face impassive. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to give him a reassuring smile. He only blinked at her.

'The car should be here in a few minutes; I will wait outside. Martin, say your goodbyes now,' Christopher instructed. Without another word, he picked up his bags and walked out the door.

Joan quickly got up from the table and went to Martin, pulling him into a hug. 'I'm so sorry you can't stay, Marty. We were so looking forward to it...' Martin didn't return the hug, only stood there like a stone, and Joan felt the tears well up in her eyes again.

'Martin, I want you to know how proud we are of you, and how much we love you. And no matter what, you will always have a home here...you will always be welcome. You understand?' she said with emotion, looking into his eyes. He nodded slowly, and she pulled him close again, trying to make the most of the time they had left. The thought of him not returning was agony-a horrible physical pain that twisted and gnawed at her heart. She already could feel his absence, even as she held him, and she didn't know how she was going to bear it.

'Please don't cry, Aunty Joan,' he said. 'I'll be all right. I don't want you to worry.'

She smiled at him and kissed him on the forehead, as she had done many times since he was very small. 'I want you to have a good Christmas, Marty. We'll be here, thinking of you.'

'All right,' he answered quietly, and took a deep breath. 'Goodbye, Aunty Joan. Goodbye, Uncle Phil.' Looking both resigned and determined, Martin picked up his suitcase and went through the door to join his father.

THE END

Thank you to all who have read and commented on my story; you have given me unending encouragement. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have loved writing it!