(A/N) Short update, but that's all you get on a concert day. The next few weeks are very busy musically. I'll post when I can. Thanks for the reviews.
(H/C)
The Cuddys stared. "His father?" the woman said in disbelief.
Abby finished dismounting, and Thomas scrambled to his feet. "I'm Thomas Thornton," he said, holding out a hand.
The man gripped his hand in an iron vise, obviously one of those who tried to uncover any weakness in the opponent's handshake. "Robert Cuddy, and this is my wife, Susan," he replied, but there wasn't any friendliness behind the tone. His whole air was that of a successful businessman who had unexpectedly found a stranger sitting in his office at his desk.
Susan was repeating the name to herself thoughtfully. "Thomas Thornton. Where have I heard that?" The light bulb went on. "On the news a few months ago. You're the reason Greg got involved in that . . ."
Thomas cut her off quickly. "Greg and I were in an accident a couple of months ago, yes." His eyes shifted down for a moment to the toddlers flanking him.
The subtle reminder went home. They didn't want to upset the girls. He hoped even if the other grandparents hadn't known about him yet that they knew how much Blythe's death had frightened Rachel and Abby and could work out that the girls would have received an edited version of the events at the racetrack.
Rachel nodded. "They got hurt. But it's all better!" She looked up at the fresh scar along Thomas' temple. "He had a big cut."
"Is your father better, too?" Susan asked, and there was true concern there behind the annoyance.
"Uh huh. His side was hurt. All better now." Rachel looked up at Thomas. "Grandpa Thomas, let's play horse again!"
"Not right now, Rachel. Why don't we all go inside where we can talk more comfortably?" Thomas suggested, though he didn't think conversation tonight had a chance of being comfortable. He couldn't blame them. In their shoes, he would have been suspicious and hurt by the deception, too. He'd actually suggested about six weeks ago telling Lisa's parents, proposing a round-table meeting somewhere to answer their questions and let them start getting used to the idea, and both Greg and Lisa had insisted that it wasn't the time yet. Recognizing deeper issues than they'd mentioned before, Thomas had backed off.
Robert looked from the BMW in the driveway, which now had their Rolls parked beside it, to Thomas, scrambling to put the man with the vehicle and having trouble with the fit. Thomas was wearing faded jeans and a T shirt that advertised the Kentucky Derby of 2002. Even without the clue as to date, it was apparent that his outfit was many, many years old, and furthermore, he looked like he had been sorting and unpacking boxes all day, which is exactly what he had been doing. "Let's do that," Robert agreed after a moment. He turned toward the front door with a slight stiffness that caught Thomas' attention, not a limp but more stiffness than he'd shown a minute ago walking across the yard to them. Thomas concluded that he had some arthritis in the hips and that watching someone older - they looked to be in their late 60s - playing with his granddaughters in a way he himself would have found difficult had reminded his body of the ache.
"Where are Lisa and Greg?" Susan asked. She picked up Rachel. "Give Grandma a hug, Rachel!" Rachel was happy to oblige, but Abby pulled back a little, watching this whole scene unfold with fascination.
"Lisa should be home before too long. Greg will be back about 7:00. Come on, Abby." Thomas held out his hand to her. She didn't take it, but at least she started walking back toward the house along with the rest of them.
Once they were in the living room, Susan set Rachel down and turned to Abby. "Abby! Goodness, you're growing. Come give Grandma a hug." Abby came forward with an expression of more duty than enthusiasm, but when Susan hung on a little too long, she started squirming. Thomas knew by now that she disliked being held, wanting to get in and out of snuggling at her own moments. Susan probably knew that, too, but tonight, she subconsciously wanted to stake her claim to them.
"Down!" Abby insisted.
Robert had been greeting Rachel, and now he turned to his younger granddaughter. "Aren't you going to give me a hug, too, Abby?"
She gave him a brief hug along with a question. "You don't like him?"
Robert looked at her, startled at the toddler interrogation. "I. . . I don't know him, Abby." He was going to take a lot of convincing, too, but at least he and Susan were trying to edit themselves in front of the girls now.
Thomas stepped in. "They weren't expecting to find me here, Abby. So I surprised them. Most people don't like surprises. You don't like surprises yourself, do you?"
"No," Abby agreed. She seemed to accept that for the moment, but those eyes as always were watching. "Down!"
Robert set her down. "So nobody else is here?" Thomas shook his head. "That's your car?"
Thomas smiled at him, acknowledging the disconnect in image. "Yes." Robert looked back out the window to the driveway, still having trouble with it.
Susan was obviously making a list of items to discuss with him - and with her daughter and son-in-law - in full once they were alone, but for now, she did her best to play along. "So . . . Thomas." She made herself use his name. "You're visiting, too?"
"No," Rachel answered happily before he could. "He lives here!" She zoomed back across the living room to hug Thomas' legs. "Yay!" Robert and Susan exchanged glances.
"I don't live here," Thomas corrected. "I have a house a couple of miles away."
"A new house!" Rachel filled in. "With a slide!" With all the love in the world for her, Thomas briefly pictured a trumpet mute or something; Tim had gone through a trumpet phase for a few months the year after his drum phase, both with no talent and thankfully ending in loss of interest, but Thomas and Emily had had a memorably amusing conversation one night after their son was asleep on possible other uses for that item. Rachel was only making this situation worse in her blithe innocence.
"I just moved here," Thomas explained. "This week, actually." He dusted off his jeans legs. "I've been unpacking all day, wasn't even scheduled to babysit, but the night sitter had an emergency come up, and Marina had to leave early. Lisa called me to step in because I was so close." He was trying to make it sound like a matter of convenience alone, but he could tell how much anger and hurt and suspicion remained. "So," he said, "you're here for a visit?"
"We were heading off on a trip for the next week," Robert explained, and Thomas heard the past tense with a sinking of his spirits. "But since we were passing so close to Princeton, we decided to swing by tonight for a brief visit to make sure Greg was okay. We hadn't seen him since the . . . accident a few months ago, and Lisa said he was healing up fine, but she sounded like . . ." He glanced at his granddaughters and edited himself out again.
"We haven't visited since Hanukkah; we were here for several days right before Blythe came for her visit at Christmas. But we do call regularly in the evenings. The girls have always been asleep already when we called lately, though." Susan's look at her husband spoke plainer than words. I told you there was something she was hiding.
Abby was still standing by the chair, looking from one to the other of them. Rachel, getting bored, ran off to find her horse and came whinnying and clip-clopping back. "See my horse, Grandma?"
"Oh, is that your horse? Your mother had said you got a stuffed horse for Christmas that you loved."
"Uh huh. This is Ember. Grandpa Thomas gave it to me! And he's got a real Ember! She's a red horse. And she's coming, too, and I get to see her."
"Me, too." Abby included herself in the anticipation. "Tomorrow." Susan eyed him again, her nose wrinkling slightly as if she could smell horse on him clear from her position on the couch.
Thomas stifled a groan. "Would anybody like a drink?" He had a few appropriate suggestions himself, but this wasn't the time. Robert had the same thought; he saw it in his eyes. At that moment, Belle walked down the hall into the living room, looked around the group, and bushed up. With an eloquent hiss, she made a U-turn and vanished back down the hall. Rachel and Abby both laughed, and Thomas had to smile. In a nutshell, he thought.
(H/C)
Cuddy had been listening to Timothy Thornton's concert CD on the way home, humming to herself. She was actually driving more leisurely than usual, letting Thomas enjoy his moment and knowing that her husband would still be a while. A family, she thought. We're really getting to be a family.
She turned into her street and slammed the brakes on halfway down it, staring in disbelief. Her parents' Rolls Royce was side by side in the driveway with Thomas' car. A flurry of options ran through her mind, some impractical, some cowardly, but she knew there wasn't any choice right now but to face the music. Releasing the brake, she let the car roll slowly to the side of the street a few houses down from hers. She hit Patterson's number on her cell phone, not that there was time for much here. When the phone was answered, she whispered as if her parents might overhear her clear out here. "Wish me luck."
"Dr. Cuddy? What is it?"
"I just got home. Apparently my parents are here. With Thomas."
A deep sigh. "Good luck," Patterson said sincerely.
"Any other advice in under 30 seconds?" Cuddy asked, wondering how long they had been here, wondering if this evening could get any worse.
"Yes. Be sure to warn your husband so he doesn't walk into it blind himself. Reassure him immediately, but it would be worse not to call." Cuddy sighed. "They'll be hurt. Remember that: They'll be hurt as much as angry, but it's the anger that will show more. Call me later if you need to."
"Thanks." Well, she'd known this would come eventually. But not yet, not out of the blue. What on earth were they doing here? "I'd better call Greg."
He answered on the first ring, his voice taut with all the tension he and Jensen had been trying to settle and more on top. "What's happened?"
"We're all fine," Cuddy said quickly. "Just wanted to warn you. I just got home, and apparently, my parents are here."
"With him?" House asked, as if hoping against hope that she could have meant something else.
"Yes. I have no idea what they're doing here."
There was about 30 seconds of mutual silence containing a crystal-clear conversation. "I'll be home in a little over an hour," he stated finally.
Cuddy felt a surge of pure pride in her husband. The dread was obvious in his voice, but he was not running. He would be here tonight when he could, trying to help her cope with it. Thomas would be a help, too. But her parents would be livid, and she stuffed down the guilt that insisted that they had a right to be. "I love you, Greg."
"I love you, too. Bye."
She put away her cell phone and let the car move on, parking on the street in front of their house as the driveway was blocked. She stared at her parents' car again. It was still there. "Damn," she said. Then, slowly, she got out and headed across the front yard to face the music.