Page 8 of A Family Affair: The Ring
Joe and Marjorie Callahan were never good together.They didn’t respect one another, didn’t understand how to appreciate a kind gesture, and they sure as hell didn’t act like they cared about what happened to the other.Maybe they never had… Maybe it all circled back to the pregnancy that nabbed Joe Callahan and forced him to marry Marjorie Allister and become a father seven months after the wedding.We are so blessed our baby survived her premature delivery,his mother had said.So very blessed.
More pretending.More playacting.More lies.
“William?”
Another lecture was heading his way.If he could convince his mother to leave right now, he’d be able to concentrate on the upcoming meeting.But her next words sucked the oxygen from the room, tossed him back eight years to a life he wanted to forget.
“She’sback in town.”She clutched the loaf of banana bread so hard it left marks in the foil.“Stay away from her.”
5
Harry Blacksworth had finally turned into a decent human being, but it had taken over fifty years to do it.He wouldn’t pretend Greta wasn’t the main reason for his transformation or that he didn’t like the person he’d become.Of course, he had a long way to go, but he was on his way.
Gone were the days of carousing, drinking too much and pretending he didn’t care about other people.Hell, he cared a lot.He didn’t miss those empty days with too much time and not enough purpose.Now he had children and responsibilities, and he welcomed those challenges, even though they scared the devil out of him.The kids were tiny miracles who made him better, filled him with joy and wonder, and if he were honest, madehimfeel like a kid again.
Poor Greta, she had to deal with kids, a dog, and a husband who acted like a kid a lot of the time.But she didn’t seem to mind it.In fact, she acted like she enjoyed her role as commander of the Blacksworth household.Give them all a list, point them in the right direction, and show up later for the follow-through.It was the follow-through Harry could never get quite right.Sure, he told the kids to clean out the gobs of toothpaste stuck to the bathroom sink and toss their socks and underwear down the laundry chute.But when they didn’t, what did he do?He closed the bathroom door because he already had his own toothpaste gobs to clean in the master bathroom, but hedidpick up his clothes and managed to toss them down the laundry chute.Sometimes he even made a game of it with the kids.
And when it came time for the big stuff like discipline, you needed follow-through, but Harry really struggled with it.Still, Pop said one of these days, it would all click.You just have to keep up with it and give it your best shot,he said.Set an example for those little ones, even the dog.If you set rules and let them break them half the time, then you’re teaching them that rules are meant to be broken.Of course, the old guy was right, but Harry had been a rule breaker most of his life,anda conflict avoider.
But if Pop really believed it was time for Harry to start “training” for the Godfather of Magdalena role, then who was Harry to argue?If the man thought he was up to it, then maybe hecoulddo it.Pop would be by his side, steer him toward answers and possibilities and make sure Harry didn’t royally screw up.Sure, why the hell not?He was still contemplating his future role and how to achieve it when he strolled into Lina’s Café for his weekly breakfast with Pop.
He winked at Phyllis, who was waiting on a customer, and made his way to the booth she reserved for him every Wednesday morning.Talk about feeling special.He’d never felt this way when he lived in Chicago or worked at the family investment firm.Of course, his main focus at the firm, aside from managing his own money, had been telling off-color jokes at the water cooler.Or practicing his putt on the golf green in his office.Nobody took him seriously, but then why would they when he preferred jokes and smooth lines to honest conversation and real work?
Greta and the kids changed him, made him human…Made him real.So had Magdalena, the place he’d once called a rinky-dink, second-rate hole in the wall.That was when he didn’t understand its importance or its value.
Harry adjusted his tie, scanned the diner.Pop would be here soon and then they could talk about how and when Harry’s “godfather” training would begin.He wiped a hand over his forehead, blew out a long breath.It was one thing to say you were going to do something, but then to actually have to do it?What if he screwed up?Damn, he was going to screw up—that came with the territory—but what if it was bad?Real bad?What then?Greta said he just needed a little seasoning like adding salt and pepper to a roaster chicken, but people’s lives were a little more important than a hunk of poultry.
Still, to have Pop consider him for such a prestigious title almost made him tear up.He cleared his throat as he recalled the other names he’d tossed at Pop, ones Harry insisted were better qualified for the job.Why wouldn’t the man choose someone with a cleaner lifestyle and less baggage?What do you think makes a good listener?Pop had asked.Somebody who’s never stepped outside a line or made a mistake?How can that person offer a suggestion or a possibility, or even set an example if they’ve always had right on their side?Those bushy eyebrows had pinched together, and Pop said in a low voice,I’ve made my share of poor choices and missteps, and I’m not talking about trying to figure out the tango.No siree, but I learned, and I kept trying and my Lucy did not give up on me.She was the original Godmother of Magdalena.Before she passed, she said I had to spend my life helping others once she was gone and not feel sorry for myself.
But what about Mimi?Harry had asked.She’d be good.
Mimi’s got her own way of helping and like I said, it has to be someone who’s stepped outside the lines a few times.That’s not Mimi.
Then Nate?Nobody would ignore his advice and from what I hear, he was no saint.
First of all, Nate doesn’t give advice and second of all, he doesn’t poke around in anyone’s business.
Are you saying I poke?
That question made Pop chuckle.Harry, come on now.You poke, prod, and flat-out bellow your thoughts.
That I do, Pop.That I do.
“What’s got you smiling like you just sampled a slice of Lina’s cherry pie?”
Harry glanced up from the salt shaker he’d been studying, grinned at his best friend.“Hey, Pop.That walk take you a little longer than usual?My belly’s growling and I’m ready for a strong cup of coffee and a plate of blueberry pancakes.”He leaned back against the booth, rubbed his jaw.“And since it’s the second Wednesday of the month, I get to add bacon.”
Pop unzipped his sweat jacket, tossed it onto the booth and slid onto his seat.“Did you ever think there’d come a time when you’d be negotiating with your wife about when you could eat bacon?”
Harry shook his head, laughed.“I never thought there’d come a time when there was a wife!”Another laugh that ended on a sigh.“But Greta sure is worth it, and if she asked me to give up bacon for good, I’d whine about it, but I’d do it.”
“She’s just trying to keep you healthy so you can chase after that brood of yours.”Pause and a grin.“Including the dog.”
“Yeah, some days that dog is more work than the three kids.He wants a walk no matter how hotorcold it is outside.And not just around the block either.What kind of dog walks three miles and the second he gets home, wants to go again?Good thing I hired a dog walker, but I’m still stuck with one of those three walks.”
Pop nodded, rubbed his stubbled jaw.“You should be glad it’s only one.I recall how you promised to do anything if you could keep him.”
“I did promise, and I would do anything for that boy.”Harry’s chest ached when he thought about the day he found Cooper wandering on a country road, all alone, just waiting for his forever home.“He’s a good boy, but some days I wish he was a few years older with a little less energy.”
