I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. I'd love to own Pete but I know that's an impossibility. His heart belongs to Edie and it always will.
Thanks so very much to Melchy for her help along the line during this chapter. Those little suggestions to my questions are always appreciated more than she realizes. Some of Pop's conversation with "the kids" is especially due to her input.
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 34: The Talk on the Terrace
Frank Gunn shifted in his seat and tried to stretch his legs a little as he pulled the red curtain away from the window and peeked outside. The sun was behind the plane and the clouds were thick below so there really wasn't anything to see. They'd been in the air for a half hour already but he was still restless and probably driving the woman seated next to him crazy. Leaving the curtain open he leaned back and gave the gray-haired lady a sideways glance. She looked to be asleep or maybe she was pretending. Either way it was just as well, he didn't feel like carrying on a conversation. He wondered if he'd made Pete mad. It was hard to tell sometimes even with him being his son and being acquainted with his demeanor. He could tell he'd embarrassed him though, that much had been evident. But it didn't hurt to embarrass your kids on occasion. You could both learn something from it. He gave a snort of silent laughter that Pete always let him get away with as much as he did.
He sure would miss his son. He always did after they spent time together. But somehow after these last couple of weeks things felt different, almost like he was flying away from home instead of toward it. Des Moines seemed to physically tug at him from a thousand miles away. It was the town he had lived in since Pete had been just a little tyke, where his house was, where the woman he loved had been laid to rest sixteen years ago. It was also the place he'd met another woman with whom he was very much looking forward to beginning a new chapter in the book of life. But Pete's town tugged at him in another way. It pulled at his heartstrings. He'd visited Pete there before and had always felt like he was leaving a part of him behind when he left, but this time it was different. It was a hundred times worse. A thousand times. Maybe because this time it wasn't just his boy he was flying away from, it was his family. Something that had consisted of just the two of them for so many years had grown. There was now this young woman, this someday wife for his son, who he already considered a daughter. There were unformed, unnamed, unknown grandchildren who he suddenly and desperately wanted to see come into the world and hold and love. They would make beautiful children, his son and this woman, and the thought of missing out on any moment in the lives of those kids was depressing to say the least.
The man sighed and fidgeted and then tried to make himself comfortable in his seat, his neck feeling awkward against the headrest, and thought back over the last several hours. They had left Mother's, deciding on the way to the car that they would save breakfast for later, it seeming more feasible to stop by the diner at a more reasonable hour on the way to the airport. Instead he had driven them back to the apartment where they had changed clothes and he had gathered his remaining belongings and added them to his luggage in the trunk of the car. He and Pete had migrated to the patio, the fresh air a welcome relief after the smoke-filled environment of Mother's, at least to the elder Gunn. The multitude of lights across the river cast liquid reflections on the rippling water visible from where the two men sat, a companionable silence prevailing for a while between father and son.
He'd felt Pete's eyes on him as they sat there, his boy's gaze bouncing back and forth between him and those twinkling lights. The younger man had finally gotten up and gone inside, coming back with the coffee carafe and filling both their cups before setting it down on the table between them. He'd also laid a pack of Lucky Strikes and his lighter next to the pot...
Pete took an almost scalding sip of coffee from his white stoneware cup and released a satisfied sigh. Reaching for the Luckies he jostled one out and tapped the tobacco-filled end on the pack a couple times before raising the cigarette to his mouth and reaching for his lighter. He released a puff of smoke which be contemplated as he watched it rise into the still air and disappear, then turned his head to look at his dad at a chuckle from the older man.
"You've been wanting one of those all night," Pop charged with a knowing smile.
"I've been wanting one all week," Pete admitted.
"It's as good a time as any to quit."
"I know." The PI expelled smoke through his nostrils and leaned back in his chair, the cigarette held loosely between his thumb and forefinger as he stared at the glowing tip with a sheepish smile. "One of these days." He extended the pack toward his dad.
"You know I don't smoke those things," Frank groused. "Not that I wouldn't mind a good cigar right about now." He leaned back, mimicking Pete's pose, and blew on his coffee before swallowing a mouthful.
"Mmm-" Pete suddenly pushed himself to his feet, carefully placing his cigarette on an ashtray and disappearing into the apartment for a second time. Upon returning he set a flat wooden box on the table in front of his father and flipped open the lid, the fragrance of fine tobacco escaping as he did so. Lifting out a slim smoke he handed it to his dad, the older man raising his eyebrows and giving a surprised smile as he sat up straighter and accepted the gift and removed the wrapper. He solemnly inspected the cigar and inhaled the aroma then performed the ritual of readying the cigar and lighting it. He took a few long, deep drags as he once again relaxed in his chair, then blew a series of smoke rings into the air. A contented smile curled his lips.
"Where'd you get these?" He gave the fancy box a good look. "They're not cheap."
"Them thar cigars come straight from Texas," Pete drawled, lifting his feet to the seat of another chair. "Ya'll take 'em back with ya'll when ya'll hightail it out of here, pardner."
A sharp guffaw split the air as the older man laughed at his son's words.
"Which reminds me..." he lifted an amused eyebrow toward Pete. "You get these cigars on the same trip you picked up those beer bottles for Barney's collection? He showed me some he said you brought him from Texas."
The PI nodded and explained how he'd been hired back in February by a Texas rancher named Clay Baxter to solve his brother's murder. Baxter had sent him home with a nice paycheck, a ten gallon hat and the box of Romeo y Julieta cigars. The cigars had been in a cabinet drawer since then, Pete admitting to smoking one on the rare occasion, but they weren't something he cared for on a regular basis. Might as well go home with Pop, who'd enjoy them.
"Barney also mentioned you went to Spain last year." Some nice work on Frank's part sent a half dozen more smoke rings into the humid night air as he waited for Pete to say something. The silence dragged on so long that the older man finally continued. "Seems you would have said something about that when we talked on the phone. That's quite a distance to travel for a job." Again he waited, wondering at his son's reticence.
"It wasn't one of those jobs I like to think about a lot," Pete eventually said. The image of Joanna Lund hanging from the rafter in her hotel room continued to haunt him almost a year later. He didn't expound on his comment and Pop didn't ask any questions. Instead Frank waited him out, deciding if his son wanted to talk about it he'd listen, if he didn't want to talk that was fine too.
"It didn't have a happy ending," the PI continued after several long moments of silent meditation. "Not that most of them do. But it taught me a few well-deserved lessons."
"Such as?" Frank gently prodded.
Pete ground his cigarette in the ashtray and lit another, expelling a long stream of smoke before continuing.
"That it's never a good idea to let personal feelings interfere with a case." He grimaced and gave a shrug at his dad's inquisitive look. "Nothing out of line, Pop. I just-" Another shrug. "I felt like a sap because I let myself get drawn into the deception of the woman I was hired to find. I can't let something like that happen and still do my job, it's not fair to me and it's not fair to my client. Even if the client was a jerk to begin with and turned out not only to be a liar himself but a murderer, whether his own hands were bloodied or not."
The PI took a long drag at his cigarette and absently fiddled with the ashtray, thoughts returning to that job and the strange loneliness he had felt even while in the company of Joanna Lund and sometimes with throngs of other people around.
"The longer I was away the more homesick I got. You'd think a grown man could go a few weeks without missing a place but-" He extinguished the cigarette and then let his head fall back and stared up at the stars. "It was the longest I'd been away from home since I met Edie." Pete offered up a weak grin. "Oh, I'd had jobs that took me out of town for two or three days, or that kept me so busy here that I didn't get a chance to see her for that amount of time, but I'd never not seen her for two weeks. I called her on the phone when I could manage it but even that didn't help. I missed her and I wanted to come home." He turned his head to meet his dad's gaze. "That was something new for me, missing someone like that. Even here, when we were apart for all those weeks, I could still see her." A sheepish chuckle escaped him. "Or I could sneak out back behind Mother's and listen to her sing if I wanted to. I swore to myself I'd never be away from home for that long again."
A quiet solitude encompassed the two men for a while, the soft tick-tock of the living room clock the only sound breaking the silence of their thoughts. Then Pete leaned to the side and looked down as a soft tap of little cat feet on the cement floor invaded the stillness. He reached a hand and rubbed Thomas's round furry face.
"What are you doing out here?" he gently chided. "I thought you were upstairs taking a nap with Mommy." He lifted the cat onto his lap and held him there with one large hand. "And don't get any ideas about running off. This is strange territory, you'd get lost and we'd never find you back. You might work your way down to the docks and end up with Miss Loretta again," he threatened. "With all those other cats fighting for her attention."
Frank smiled at the sight and stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray then asked his son was he sure he wanted him to take the box home with him. Receiving an affirmative answer he promised to wrap up the one he'd been smoking and carry it home in his pocket. No use wasting a perfectly good cigar. Pete tried to hold back a laugh but could tell from his dad's stare that he hadn't succeeded.
"Your appointment with Dr. Carson is tomorrow afternoon?" Frank knew exactly when Pete's followup was but he wanted to make sure anyway. Again. At Pete's resigned nod – Pop missed the eye roll in the dark – he offered, also again, to reschedule his flight so he could be there in case the doctor didn't give Pete a full release.
"Go home, Pop." The younger man's stern order came with a teasing smile.
"You'll be seeing Dr. Stewart right after?" Gregory Stewart was the PI's regular doctor.
Pete nodded again and Pop eyed the orange feline who was turned onto his back, purring and rubbing against the man's chest. He told Pete he supposed things would seem a little lonely when he had his apartment to himself once again. Things had gotten crowded and busy with two extra people there on a regular basis as well as people visiting at all hours. He guessed Edie and the cat would be going back to her apartment after the doctors gave him their blessing? Frank's statement was more of a question, eyebrows raised in polite query.
The younger man shrugged and proceeded to tell his dad about Edie losing the lease on her apartment.
"She found a corpse in her shower?" Pop was aghast. "What is it with this town? You attract all the loonies from everywhere else? No wonder you're so busy all the time."
Pete explained that it had happened just a few weeks after he'd returned from that job in Texas. None of it had been Edie's fault, she had been moved to that apartment while her own was being painted, but now the manager had decided not to renew her lease. Mr. Bartel hadn't said that was the reason behind it but based on some of the comments he made to Edie at the time of the incident they could pretty much assume it was. Pete told her he would speak to the man but she didn't want him to make an issue of it. Bartel tended to be somewhat presumptuous and condescending about a lot of things anyway. Considering the circumstances and the irritation she felt Edie didn't want to remain at her apartment while she looked for a new place. She would be staying with Pete in the meantime.
Frank rubbed at his chin as he eyed his son, his brain working on what he'd just heard.
"Pete-" Frank paused to carefully consider his words. He'd been mulling some things he wanted to say before heading home and this conversation seemed to be offering him a golden opportunity. He cleared his throat, not knowing quite how or where to begin but deciding to jump in anyway. He could ask was that a good idea, that a woman had her reputation to consider. But that appeared to be water under the bridge. The way the two of them lived their life together didn't seem to phase anybody, their friends didn't appear to consider it anything out of the ordinary. Things had certainly changed since he was a youngster but that's what made the world go round he supposed. And he sure didn't want to give the impression he might harbor some of the same feelings and ideas that Edie's parents did, especially Mrs. Hart, because that wasn't the case. He just wanted to- Well, to be honest he wasn't certain what he wanted. As he turned things over in his mind he heard Pete sigh.
"You might as well spit it out, Pop." The PI's voice held a hint of amusement. "You've been holding it in since the other night. Wouldn't want you to explode."
"You remember Bobby Pearson?"
Pete shot his dad an amused grimace and gave a snort while simultaneously lifting the ginger-colored cat from his lap and placing him on the patio floor. He pointed Thomas in the direction of the open glass door and watched as he wandered into the apartment then settled back in his chair when he saw the feline make a beeline for the kitchen. With a look at his father, wondering where that question came from and where Pop might be going with it, he gave a resigned answer.
"I remember he stole my date to the senior prom." He didn't look especially put out when he said that but he was sure the other man would pick up on the reference.
"What do you mean he stole your date? You went to the prom with Bill and Maureen Schaeffer's little girl. What was her name? Kathleen? I remember you heading out the door dressed in that brand new black suit you bought with the money you saved from your part-time job at Bob Johnson's place. Your mom and I gave you that fancy black tie and those black Oxfords to wear with it."
"I asked her to go and she said yes. Actually she said something like Oh, Peter, yes! I thought you were never going to ask." The girlish tone Pete used got a chuckle out of Frank. "The day before the dance when I caught her between classes to tell her what time I'd pick her up she told me I didn't have to. She said she was going with Bobby Pearson."
Pete watched his dad reach for the coffee to refill their cups. The elder Gunn eyed what was left in the carafe, a thoughtful frown settling between his eyes as he slowly digested his son's words. He divided the coffee between the two then set the carafe aside with the comment that they'd make another pot later if they had time.
"Didn't he have a steady girlfriend through his last two years of school?"
"Cynthia Kirk." The PI took a sip of his coffee and held the stoneware cup in his hand as he continued to reminisce. "They were on again, off again most of their senior year. He was more interested in cars and other girls. I figured they must have been off again at the time and he took advantage of it to ask Kathleen to be his date." Pete shrugged. "I never did hear the full story and wasn't really interested in finding out."
"Who did you go with then?"
"I didn't." He waved away his dad's interruption. "I went out to Brewster's Point and met up with some of the other guys who weren't going. We had hamburgers at Dickie's Diner and then went to a movie, a replay of an old Charlie Chan if I remember right. After that we just goofed off and did some stupid kid stuff." A full-blown grin crossed his face. He had a feeling Pop wasn't going to be happy with what he was about to hear. "We walked down to the old railroad trestle bridge and sat out over the river and timed how long it took rocks to hit the water."
"You what!?" Frank Gunn was aghast, he could physically feel the blood drain from his face as he wondered what would have happened if a train had come along. There would have been nowhere to go but down. Pete couldn't help but chuckle at the look on his dad's face and the question that popped out.
"I guess we would have timed how long it took us to hit the water."
It was obvious the older man wasn't amused.
"After that we went up to the bluff, stripped down to our skivvies and took turns diving into the swimming hole." Pete tried not to look at his dad when he said that but couldn't help giving a sideways glance.
Frank ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at his face. The bluff his son was referring to was at least fifty feet above an old gravel pit that over the years had been filled in by the meandering of the river and was used by the kids for swimming during the summer. Diving had always been strictly prohibited. At any rate no one in his right mind would even consider-
"You're an idiot," the man ground out. "Who else was there?"
"Mike Dupont, Willie Simmons, George Grady..." Pete finished his coffee and set the cup aside, stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles, hands resting easily on the arms of the metal chair. "...Charlie Green, Dave Martin." He stared at the tips of his shoes and thought for a few seconds. "Chuck Bonner and Wayne Lester."
Frank felt the air go out of him as he sat there and stared at his son and realized what he was hearing. It took several minutes for the words he wanted to say to find their way out of his mouth.
"Stupid as you were I have a hunch you had a better time with those boys than if you'd actually made it to the dance." His gaze softened and he felt suddenly very, very old. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the patio table and stared down into the little bit of brown liquid left in his cup. "I remember the very next day the Bonner and Lester boys went down to the recruitment office and enlisted."
"They both turned eighteen that next week and decided they wanted to enlist instead of registering for the draft because they wanted to serve in the Navy. Probably would have done the same thing even if there wasn't a war going on." Pete reached across for his lighter and turned it absently in his fingers. "We three were on the swim team together. You couldn't keep either one of them out of the water." He pulled his gaze from the gold of the lighter and instead stared out at the lights on the river. "I guess that makes it all the more fitting that Wayne never made it home from that ship he was on."
"You were chomping at the bit because your birthday wouldn't come around until the end of November and you wanted us to let you do the same thing, sign the consent for you to enlist while you were still seventeen." The elder Gunn peered across the table at Pete, breaking the younger man's introspective silence. "You watched the rest of the boys head off one by one before finally talking your mom and me into doing just that."
"It felt like the right thing for me to do, Pop. I never regretted it."
"I know," the older man nodded. "Didn't make it any easier for your mom and me."
A lengthy silence was eventually broken by Frank Gunn. He gave Pete a shrewd look.
"Why didn't you tell us the girl stood you up?"
"I figured you'd be a lot more upset about it than I ended up being." The younger man's lips tilted in a little smile and he arched a quizzical eyebrow. "Which brings us back full circle to Bobby Pearson."
Frank nodded. Somehow what he'd planned to say to Pete didn't seem quite as important anymore. And it was really none of his business to begin with. But Pete was still his son, still that boy he raised and who he loved more than any other human being in the world. So he went ahead and related the story of Bob Pearson, who'd gotten engaged to Ed and Shirley Kirk's girl Cynthia six months after graduation. The boy had gotten cold feet somewhere along the line, Frank heard that directly from Ed Kirk, and had broken things off about a month later right before the draft board finally called his number. When he came home twelve months later both sets of parents thought the experience might have made more of a man of him, would have set him in the right direction, and at first they were of the opinion it had. Cynthia had waited on him, the engagement was back on and all seemed right in the world. Frank wasn't privy to exactly what happened after that. All he knew was that four months later the two got married. Another five months and a baby girl was added to the mix. And less than a year following that they were divorced.
"And the moral of that story is?" Pete figured he knew but he'd give his dad a chance to have his say. As he'd intimated earlier he'd known since the other night that Pop still had some things on his mind and some questions he wanted to ask. It wouldn't matter if Pete answered those questions or not, he knew the older man wanted to put them out there so he'd sit and listen and give him a chance to speak his mind if need be.
"Getting married because you get your girl pregnant is no way to start a life together."
Frank watched his son's face for a reaction to his comment but it sported one of those unreadable looks that made it difficult to tell whether he was angry, simply irritated or just embarrassed. Or none of the above. Pete was so hard to read sometimes. One of the things that made him so good at his job but so aggravating to a parent.
"My life with Edie started the first moment I saw her."
He sounded neither angry nor embarrassed. He sounded more like he was admitting to something that was beyond his control, that he didn't question, that just was. A thing that was so intense and overwhelming that he just accepted it without explanation.
"And while we don't plan on anything like that happening..." Pete continued in a steady tone, "... it wouldn't change things between us if it did. Might complicate things a little but it wouldn't change things." His mouth straightened in what passed for a smile. "But we're very conscientious when it comes to that, Pop. We don't leave anything to chance."
"You make sure? Every time?"
Pete couldn't believe they were having this discussion. Here he was, a thirty-three year old adult male who'd been on his own for close on sixteen years, held down an often dangerous job, had more life experience than most men twice his age, paid his bills on time and was kind to both children and animals. He'd been shot at more times than he wanted to remember, run off the road in his car, left beaten half senseless in alleys and threatened with bodily harm the likes of which he didn't like to even think about. And here his father was lecturing him on the birds and the bees. Something seemed terribly wrong with this picture.
"Every time," he nevertheless very solemnly assured his parent.
"Including the other night when I got home from Barney's and had to pick up the clothes scattered willy-nilly across the living room floor?" A vestige of embarrassment found its way through Pete's granite expression. Frank hadn't planned on mentioning that episode but couldn't seem to help himself. And he also knew he should feel bad that he'd made his son very obviously uncomfortable. On the other hand it tickled him in a strange sort of way that he was still able to do that. It provided him with a wonderful assurance that he was still the dad and Pete was still the little boy, however absurd that seemed. Pete rubbed a hand over his face and muttered something that Frank took as a yes.
"It's not that I'm averse to becoming a grandpa," he hurriedly said and Pete could tell he saw the ridiculousness of the situation. "As a matter of fact I can't wait for that day. It's just that us old codgers like it better when we see things run their normal and natural course. We tend not to fret over things quite so much."
"Uh huh." Pete didn't seem convinced but he let it go.
The quiet solitude that enveloped them for another few minutes was finally interrupted by noises from the direction of the kitchen followed by the appearance of a sleepy-eyed woman in search of coffee. She frowned at the empty carafe but perked up considerably upon hearing the men agree they had time for another pot, then gave a cheerful smile at Frank's reminder that she still owed him a game of chess which he didn't plan to leave town without. Ten minutes later the coffee was fresh, the chess board was aligned with pawns and such and two studious heads were bent over the game.
Frank Gunn glanced over at his son, an eyebrow quirking in amusement at the manner in which Pete's tall frame overshot the sofa he was lounging on. Then he returned his gaze to the blonde woman sitting on the floor across from him and a smile curled his lips. She had exchanged her black dress and bejeweled elegance for casual dark green pants and a wide-collared white cotton blouse that buttoned down the front. A wide silver and jade bracelet adorned her right wrist and she wore a watch with a thin silver band on the left. She liked to wear jewelry and it looked good on her, it was very feminine and womanly. He liked that and he could tell from the way Pete had gazed at her when she reappeared after her nap that he appreciated it too. There was just something to be said about a girl acting like a girl.
"You're being awfully quiet," he told Edie, breaking a silence that had outlasted itself.
Pete looked up and followed his dad's gaze with his own, smiling at the sight of his girl sitting on the floor between the coffee table and the chair, the look of concentration on her face amusing and sexy at the same time. She was paying absolutely no attention to him or Pop, her eyes instead riveted on the chess board. Twice she reached out to wrap her fingers around one of the white pawns, both times drawing her hand back without moving it.
"Mmmm..." the blonde absently hummed. Her gaze briefly lifted to Frank's and she gave him a mildly disapproving look for disturbing her concentration before she returned her attention to the board.
"Be careful, Pop. That's when she's at her most devious." Pete let the business section of yesterday evening's newspaper fall to his chest as he turned his full attention to the game at hand.
"Thanks for the warning, son."
Frank raised an eyebrow and made a sing-song noise as Edie again reached for one of the pawns. She paused and removed her fingers from the game piece.
"She has a competitive streak a mile wide," the PI continued.
"And you are such a sore loser," she accused Pete, giving him an amused sideways look.
She finally made her move then leaned back against the chair and covered a yawn with her hand. She watched as Pop considered his options and then smiled smugly as the man began to tap his fingers on the table top. It took him a moment or two to make a decision but once he did he moved his knight without hesitation and captured Edie's remaining bishop. She frowned. That wasn't the move her adversary was supposed to make.
"Gets irritated when the little girl beats him does he?" Frank quizzed.
"Always," the blonde asserted. "He acts just like a little boy who doesn't get his way." She shot a smiling look at the man in question. "Not that I do it very often. At least not at chess," she amended. Frank had a feeling it wouldn't be long before that changed. She was very good for someone who had only been playing a short while.
It took Edie several very long minutes to make her next move. Finally she took a long-shot chance and reached across and moved her queen diagonally three squares. Frank stared and frowned and gave a short harrumph and began going through possible moves in his head. The blonde stifled another yawn as she gave him a glance and decided his expression when he played chess compared quite favorably to Pete's. One moment he displayed supreme confidence and the next he appeared ready to throw a tantrum. And just as with Pete, if she mentioned it he'd probably deny it with his last breath.
"Should we head to breakfast before you get too cocky and think you might actually win this game?" The elder Gunn spared a smiling glance for the young woman seated across from him. Then his narrowed gaze rested on his son as the younger man got up from the sofa.
Edie felt Pete's presence as he seated himself on the chair at her back and leaned forward to look over her shoulder at the board. His hands found her shoulders and began a gentle massage as she leaned back, his legs warm against her sides. His eyes followed his dad's move and he studied the layout of the other black and white game pieces before bending his dark head closer to the blonde's and whispering something into her ear.
"Hey, now! None of that." Frank frowned. "No cheating."
"I was just pointing out to her that when it comes to chess you're the equivalent of a pool hustler and she'd do well to take you up on your offer."
"We can finish," Frank vacillated sheepishly. "Three moves and the game's over anyway. And don't be talking about your old man that way."
"Mmhmm."
Pete murmured something only Edie could hear, the woman's eyes skipping across the chessmen as she listened. She reached across and moved her remaining knight and then watched Frank quickly slide his black bishop diagonally to capture her white rook. The blonde shot the PI a look of displeasure even as he motioned at the board and whispered a few words. Again the white knight was moved and again the older man reached for one of the black game pieces, moving it the requisite number of squares. Too late to take back the move he realized his mistake, his snort of disgust drowning out Edie's plaintive groan as in her mind Pete seemed to be playing right into his dad's hands. Frank snuck a glance at Edie and relaxed when it appeared she'd taken no notice of his self-castigation. He relaxed even further when Pete leaned back and motioned for the girl to make the next move, the younger man's gaze resting on her face as she considered the board. After a couple false starts and several long minutes of concentration her fingers touched upon her queen and she carefully moved it a couple spaces over, her attention shifting to Pete to test his reaction before releasing the piece. The elder Gunn made a face and fell back in his chair, watching Edie's face clear into a giddy grin as by his reaction it dawned on her that she'd just won the game. Well, technically Pete had won, but that was neither here nor there. It wasn't the most masterful of checks but there was no way around it. One more move, and there were few to be had, and the game would be finished, though not in the manner Frank had planned. He heaved a long sigh and reached and toppled his king, admitting defeat.
"What was that you said about three moves?" Pete cocked his head and held a cupped hand to his ear playfully.
After managing a quick breakfast at the Starlight Diner they made it to the airport with a little time to spare before Frank had to check in at the American Airlines counter. They found seats in the waiting area near his gate and sat for about twenty minutes, chatting about this and that and mainly ignoring the fact that he would shortly begin a trip that would return him the thousand miles he'd come two weeks ago. Glancing at the clock from time to time, watching its hands move along toward his appointed hour, Frank also found his gaze straying to the hands of the couple seated across from him. His son's right hand had found the young woman's left seemingly of its own accord, without conscious thought, his long fingers tangling easily with hers. The most natural thing in the world. A few more minutes passed and then with a final quick glance at the time Frank turned his eyes to his son.
"How about doing your old man a favor and checking me in at the counter over there?" He took his ticket from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed it to Pete as they both got to their feet.
"Sure, Pop."
The PI could feel his dad's gaze on him as he grabbed the two suitcases and made his way through the now crowded waiting room. As he handed over the ticket he turned his head, watching as Edie got up from her seat and the two most important people in his life fiercely embraced. Even from this distance he could see Edie's eyes squeeze shut and could tell she was trying to hold back tears. He saw her fingers dig into the back of Pop's dark gray cardigan as the man pulled her close and said something.
"Regardless of the situation it was nice being here and finally getting to meet the woman who stole my son's heart," Frank murmured against Edie's hair. "I've always wondered what it would be like to have a daughter and now I know. And it makes me very happy." He pulled back and looked into her face, his hands gently grasping her arms. "I say that with all seriousness. I want you to know that and believe that and above all remember that."
"Thank you." Edie smiled as best she could through the tears that were threatening.
"I also want you to remember what I said at the hospital that first day," he reminded her. "If you need me for anything, for any reason, you call me. Okay? Even if its just to talk or to get something off your chest or to complain about something that big galoot over there said or did," he chuckled, motioning with his head toward Pete, who was now watching unabashedly from across the room. "He's a good son and a good man but even I know he can be a real pain in the patootie sometimes."
"A real big pain," Edie nodded in agreement and made a face.
Frank reached for his canvas carry-on and took Edie's hand and led the way to the door with the Gate 5 sign above it. He released Edie's hand and held his own out toward Pete.
"Son." He awarded Pete a solemn gaze.
"Pop."
Pete's lips tilted in a little smile as he shook hands with his dad. Then Frank let his bag drop to the floor and pulled his son in for a hug, one big hand grasping the back of his neck.
"Hold on to one another and never let go, you hear me?" His voice was gruff in Pete's ear. "Take care of each other and always be there for one another. Love is precious, don't ever take it for granted. But do enjoy it." Frank stepped back and reached out his hand to give Pete a fatherly pat on the cheek. "You got that?"
"Yeah, Pop. I got it." His deep blue gaze flicked from his dad to Edie and back again.
"And be careful out there. You hear me? I know you're young yet and you think you're indestructible and invincible but you're not. You're only a man with a man's frailties and imperfections. You're only human. Remember that."
Pete nodded and watched the other man retrieve his carry-on from the floor.
"I'd really like the two of you to come for a visit at Thanksgiving or Christmas."
Frank fell into line behind a middle-aged woman in a pink suit, the younger man and the girl shuffling along next to him as he inched along toward the departure gate. It had been a while since father and son had spent any of the holidays together. Pete's suggestion of sometime in between was met with with a nod of agreement and a pat on the shoulder as they arrived at the gate. With a final hug and kiss on the cheek for Edie, and a whisper into her ear that there were presents for them in the downstairs closet, the elder Gunn disappeared through the door.
And now here he was sitting in Seat 14A next to a slightly snoring granny-type. Not that he should be thinking something like that. He was old enough to be that type. Of the opposite gender of course. But it was obvious that there were a lot of years between him and the woman in the aisle seat. He idly wondered who she'd been visiting in Pete's city. Maybe her own kids.
Frank quietly pulled out the tray that was folded against the seatback in front of him, pulled a book from the carry-on he'd stashed beneath the same seat and then reached across to accept a steaming cup of black coffee from the pretty stewardess pushing the cart down the aisle. He glanced at the paperback which turned out to be one of the Max Brand westerns Lieutenant Jacoby had brought over. The Rancher's Revenge. He'd read most of Brand's books, including the entire Dr. Kildare series, but this one didn't ring a bell with him. When he got done with it he would put it in the mail to Pete or stash it in his "Pete" box to return to him when he and Edie visited. That thought brought a smile to his face. Leaning back in his seat he made himself comfortable again but instead of opening the book he sat and stared out the window, his mind returning to the goodbyes that had been said more than an hour ago. Within moments he was asleep.