Grampa and Evie

It had been a little over eleven years since Martha had left us. I'd promised her that we'd retire on my fifty-fifth birthday and we'd travel the world. Unfortunately, she didn't lived to see it. Back then, I was a mechanic, working on other people's cars and, at the age of twenty-three, I bought a broken down car for twenty bucks, fixed it and sold it for two-hundred and haven't looked back since. By thirty-five, I owned five used car dealerships and had hit the magic number - three million dollars. That's what I'd told Martha we'd likely need to travel and live decently the rest of our lives. Everything I made after that was gravy. Then, a little over a year and a half from my magic fifty-five, she died and took away my reason for living... and working, I guess. She contracted a virulent form of uterine cancer and neither of us realized how bad off she was until it was too late to do much more than say goodbye.

At the time she got sick, I was very busy with the business and she never complained about any pain. A couple or times I had noticed that she held her belly, but she only waved it off saying that it was only her stomach bothering her. The problem was masked by the ulcers she was taking medications for, so we just chalked it up to that. By the time we got around to going to see a doctor, the cancer had spread to most of her vital organs, including her brain and it was too late to do anything about it. Within three months, she was gone. All I was left with was a ceramic jar with her cremated remains. I damn near gave it all up and followed her into eternity, but she'd said that if I did, she'd never speak to me again... life goes on.

Linda and Charlie, my youngest daughter and her husband as well as their six kids were at my house so much for the first few months after Martha's departure, that it almost seemed as if they'd moved in with me, but their active lives kept me sane and whole while I recovered.

Oscar, my only son, came home from Iraq on emergency leave. Rima and Rose, his wife and one daughter, flew in from Germany mostly to be with him. He'd met and married her when he'd been stationed at Flint Kasern in Bad Tölz, Germany. From what I understand, Karl, their next child, was conceived while they were here. The only people that didn't come were from Opal's family, my only other daughter, and that was Frank, Sr, and Frank, Jr, her husband and son. She and her two youngest came, Calvin and Eva. Frank, Jr was in the Marine Corps. He was some sort of DI or TAC at Camp Pendleton. He was pretty much like his father, a real asshole, so the Marine Corps suited him just fine. Frank had kicked Junior and Eva out of the house when they'd turned eighteen and, as soon as Calvin was eighteen, he'd be out on his ass as well - or so he'd stated.

I don't know why I'm telling you all this, but... I guess I might as well finish it up. Martha and I only had the three kids, Opal the oldest who, at the time of this telling, was forty and settled in her role as timid, well-cowed housewife. Oscar was thirty-eight and a field grade officer in the US Army and Linda was thirty-seven. By then, Linda and Charlie had produced another four kids and they'd both had their tubes tied. Charlie smilingly told me in an aside that they both loved to screw and neither liked using any form of birth control. Charlie's folks were well-off and, at that point, Charlie was doing pretty well in the family construction equipment repair and rental business, so they could afford all those kids.

Close to Thanksgiving day, I was feeling pretty bad. I don't mean sick bad, but down in the dumps bad. Martha had loved to set out a good spread during the holidays, and I couldn't think of how to survive through without her. We had a lot of grandkids, maybe not as many as some, but I think seventeen is quite a haul. Consequently, Oscar had tinkered around and built a removable wall between the dining room and living room and designed another table that he and I built. It was a damn good table... let me tell you about it!

Like I said, Oscar designed it. That boy always had a pair of marbles rolling around in his head, not like his old man who could only think of business. Anyway Oscar designed this oak table so that it hung on the false wall like a huge wall decoration. The legs were removable and stowed under it along with an extra wide leaf. We would collapse the false wall which would leave the table hanging from the rafters by a chain and pulley system Oscar had found somewhere ready made. After installing and clamping in the legs, we'd lower the table and set it up next to the other table, insert the leaves in both tables and we were ready to set out the food. The kid was - is - a genius... and he's my son! I told him he ought to patent it, but he just shrugged and said that somebody probably already had and left it at that. But enough about the table.

Around late September or early October, when the leaves were turning, I began missing Martha again. Her birthday was October seventh, but as she'd grown older, she began claiming Halloween as her birthday. Anyway, I went to our favorite spot along the river's edge, a promontory we used to visit to neck and fool around at as kids and, after scattering her ashes, laid a wreath for her. I'd finally bought the spot with an acre of land around it, and gifted it to the city as a park. I could have claimed the deduction on my taxes, but it somehow didn't seem right to profit from a gift in Martha's memory. Officials turned a blind eye to my scattering her ashes down the slope - it was against city ordinances to dump body remains, ashes or not. She'd loved that spot.

After I came home, I moped around, watched some TV and thought of going on to meet Martha. I missed her so goddamn much that I actually took out my old .44 and played with it, spinning the empty cylinder and looking at the box of ammo beside me. However, Martha had believed that if a person committed suicide, they'd be stuck in hell forever and I didn't want that. Not that I believed in hell, I mean, a couple of tours in Viet Nam had been my hell, but I didn't want to chance it. I wanted to be with Martha and, just in case it was true, I kept the gun empty to avoid any impulsive action. I had no doubt that my body would be found quickly, Linda and her kids were in and out of the house as if they owned it. Which was another thing I'd been thinking about, but never mind that for now.

In mid-November, I was spending some quiet time, expecting Linda and Opal sooner or later - today, tomorrow or the day after - to begin setting up for Thanksgiving. Linda, always the take-charge girl, said she'd already ordered the majority of the food from the caterers and that she and Opal would be cooking a turkey and a ham each. Martha had always cooked a couple of turkeys and a couple of hams, but after Linda's kids began growing, she'd farmed most of the work out to a caterer. The crowd had just gotten too big. They usually delivered the food the day before and the pies and cold goodies would sit on the kitchen counter or in the refrigerator - make that refrigerators - I'd had to buy another to accommodate my growing family. I loved having all of them around me, still the whole clan could have formed a couple of baseball teams and maybe a couple of football teams, too. Anyway, about the time I managed to doze off, the kitchen door slammed open.

"Whoo-oof," a feminine voice exclaimed.

"I told you not to carry such a big load," Opal fussed, "Daddy's here, he can help, you know."

"Yeah, but he always wants to carry the biggest load and I don't think he ought to strain himself," Linda retorted.

"Well, for God's sake! He's only fifty-nine. He's not an old man yet!"

"He's still my Daddy," Linda sniffed.

"Oh for... okay, we got it all in anyway."

"What in the world are you two arguing about now," I fussed, walking into the kitchen.

"Oh, Linda wants to treat you like an old invalid."

She pulled open the big chest freezer and began stacking cartons of ice cream in it. Linda pulled open one refrigerator at a time, looking for space for the two turkeys and two hams sitting on the table. As I began handing the ice cream to Opal, the door flew open and Eva, Evie to us, shuffled in with two large paper bags full of things.

"Evie!" I smiled, rushing to her aid.

"Hi, Grampa," she smiled as I held the door open with a foot and took a bag.

"Evie, how are you? God, I haven't seen you since the dinosaurs cleared out of the back yard."

"I'm fine, Grampa," she giggled.

When she'd been very young, she'd read about dinosaurs and, turning to me and asked if I'd had any dinosaurs in the back yard when I was growing up. She knew she was too young to have seen them, but she thought I just might have been old enough. We still laughed over that. As she came in, she laid a hand on my shoulder and puckered up, leaning toward me as I presented my cheek. She pecked me drily and I, in turn gave her a gentle peck on hers.

"Anybody else out there?" I took a quick glance out.

"Nope, but you're looking slimmer, Grampa. What's the matter? Haven't Aunt Linda and Momma been feeding you?" she set her bag on the table.

"No, nothing like that - anything else out in the car?"

"Nah. Just trash from the burger joint."

"Oh. Well, I don't touch that."

"Ya hungry, Dad?" Opal called.

"No, I had something a little while ago."

I rummaged through the stuff in the bags, mostly decorations for the house. Cut-outs of Indians, pilgrims, turkeys, wheat sheaves, corn stalks and such.

"Calvin's supposed to bring some real corn stalks and some pumpkins from the store when he gets off work," Opal noted, "we're gonna decorate the place real nice," she took one final glance in the freezer and closed the lid, "you think ten gallons of ice cream's gonna be enough for this mob?" she looked doubtfully toward Linda as Linda puttered around with the coffee maker.

"Well, I've got four pumpkin pies, four apple pies and four coconut custard pies coming from John's Diner. I figure if we run through all that, we've had enough!" Opal and Evie chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess so," Opal nodded as Evie shook her head, "but these bottomless pits some people call teenagers, makes me wonder if we do."

"Well, I'm going back to my TV," and gave them the old GI salute, "y'all do yo' thang."

"Okay, Dad," and, "okay, Grampa," they chorused.

As I settled into my easy chair, I listened with half an ear to their gossip. It went in one ear and out the other, but I do love to hear the sound of their voices. Even the kids - twelve of them at home - were a musical choir to my ears - arguments and all. I don't really remember what was on TV, all I was doing was enjoying the sound of their voices. As I lazed on the couch, I wondered how Linda's two oldest were doing in college. She had another, Michael, that would soon head that way as well. She'd told me that Mike had gotten a couple of scholarships, so his first two years were paid for, and Charlie's firm had offered to sponsor him and pay his tuition if he contracted to come work for them on graduation. He was the really smart one in that family. That was three down and seven to go. One of them showed a real aptitude for working with his hands. He'd be another Oscar, I mused idly. Smart and skilled. I was just beginning to turn to memories of Martha when, in the middle of my reverie, Evie came bustling up with a hot cup of coffee for me.

"Thanks, honey," I murmured, taking the hot cup out of her hands.

"You're welcome, Grampa," she smiled and settled in beside me on the couch.

I took a slurping sip, smacked my lips in appreciation and set the cup on the table beside me. Evie, raised my arm and snuggled in against my side, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"So. What have you been up to, hon," I smiled down at her, squeezing her shoulders to me.

"Oh, about five-one," she giggled - she'd taken my standard answer.

"Oh? That tall already," I chuckled.

"Yeah, pretty near," she looked up at me and smiled softly.

"I love you, baby girl," I kissed the top of her head and mussed it up.

"I... I love you, too, Grampa," all of a sudden, she was fighting back tears.

"Hey, hey," I whispered, "I didn't mean to make you cry, honey!" I pulled her into my arms, "what did I say?"

"Everything I wanted to hear, Grampa," she sobbed, fighting hard to hold back her tears.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong," I sat her up, taking one of her soft hands in both of mine, "did that..." I didn't give in and cuss, "that father of yours say something to hurt you?"

She didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"I'm pregnant, Grampa," she gasped, sobbing painfully, "an', an' Daddy... Daddy only said to go back to him. I don't want to, Grampa. I don't have to if I don't want to, do I?" she sounded so much like a hurting little girl that my heart went out to her.

"Hell, no, honey! Dammit to hell, NO!" and brought her hand up to my lips, kissing her white knuckles as she gripped my hand tightly.

"When Ralph," her boyfriend - fiancé they called him - "found out, he slapped me and punched my belly, telling me that I had to abort it, b-b-but I don't want to, Grampa. I don't care if it is Ralph's baby, I want to keep it. I don't have to abort it, do I, Grampa," she whimpered.

"It's as much yours as Ralph's, honey and you're carrying it," I tried to lighten the mood, "and like they say in the movies, possession is nine points of the law," I tried to chuckle, but all I managed was a dry rasping rattle in my throat.

Ralph was a lot like Evie's father, a real sonuvabitch. I'd never understood why Opal stayed with Frank - and I could barely understand why Evie had been so taken with Ralph. I hugged her, pressing her head to my chest as she began to cry.

"I-I-I-I l-l-love you, Grampa," she hiccuped.

"Yes, darling, I love you, too."

I tilted her chin up and kissed her lips gently. I intended it to be just a dry little peck on the lips, but her tongue came out automatically and the feel of her warm wet tongue jolted through me like an electric charge. I hadn't expected that. I guess she realized it, too, because she suddenly opened her eyes and blushed. She started to say something, but moaned softly instead. I suddenly realized that I was no longer holding my playful, young little granddaughter. Instead, I had a very desirable, twenty-something woman in my arms. I eased my tight grip on her reluctantly, suddenly feeling bashful and shy and turned away quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment. After a short, awkward silence, I spoke up.

"I, uh, I'm sorry, honey. I, um, I didn't..."

"No," she pressed my arm, "no, Grampa, it's not for you to apologize," I turned to look at her, her eyes shone bright with a sudden awareness, "that was my fault. Ralph's always telling me that he wants a full kiss and, uhm, and... I guess it was just habit," I nodded, a little disappointed, but she didn't stop, "but it was a habit, that, uhm, that I, uhm, that I..." she turned red and looked away, but she finished what she'd started, "that I could really get into with you, Grampa."

She suddenly jumped to her feet, pressing her hands to the sides of her very red face and dashed back into the kitchen. Without thinking, I watched her leave, checking out her lovely backside as if seeing it for the first time. She had a beautiful rear and as she turned the corner of the false wall, I noted that her breasts were full and heavy. Had she started lactating already, or were they just that way naturally? My two girls were still gossiping and, a few minutes later, I heard Evie's voice join in as they all laughed over some piece of private gossip. Then their voices dropped and I couldn't hear them anymore.

"Well, you can certainly stay with me," Linda offered loudly, "I'll just move two of the boys out of their room. Maybe put Joey and Teddy in with Billy and Earl. Just gotta move their bunk beds in. The girls can keep their room, unless you'd like to bunk in with them, but three noisy teeny-boppers is too much for anybody to put up with, so -"

"No," Evie interrupted her.

"There's Daddy," Opal suggested, "the house has four empty bedrooms."

"I don't know," Evie sounded so forlorn.

Her sad voice got me to determine what I needed to do. I got up, picked up my empty coffee cup, as an excuse to barge in, and walked into the kitchen, figuring on putting in my two cents worth.

"What's up, kids," I nodded, heading for the coffee pot.

"Not much," Opal smiled.

"I'll ask him," Linda turned to me.

"Ask him what?" I grinned in return.

"Well, Daddy, seeing as you got all this room and it's only you rattling around in it, we were wondering if Evie could stay here," she looked up at me expectantly.

"What's wrong with Frank and Opal? Is he being his usual asshole self?" I took a quick sip, glancing around at them.

"Well..." Opal started in defense of her husband.

"Yes!" Linda nodded emphatically, "he told Evie that she needed to suck it up and go back to her man. Opal told me he said that whether they were married or not, he was still her man and she'd made her bed with him, so she'd best lie in it. So, um..."

"Suits me," I shrugged and expanded my statement, "knowing Frank, Evie's still got her bags in her car, am I right?"

"Y-yeah?" Evie stared at the table top shame-faced.

"Well, you got four bedrooms to choose from, but the best one is probably Oscar's old room. He built some nice shelving and a stand-alone closet in it," I smiled, patting Evie's shoulder, "and you're welcome as long as you want to stay - and if you let me play with the baby, you never have to leave - if you don't want to. Shoot, I might even go so far as changing the diapers."

"See," Linda grinned at Opal, throwing a hand out as if making a presentation, a smilingly smug look on her face, "it's all good."

Evie had opened a door with the touch of her tongue on my lips, and I now really looked at my oldest daughters. They were both beautiful, full-figured women, built curvaceous right then, but I remembered how they'd looked when they were about Evie's age, both of them with nice, taut breasts, buttocks, legs and long, wavy hair. They were still just as beautiful, if a little heavier. But, hell, they were full-grown women, getting on toward middle age. I smiled to myself as I looked them over. Linda caught my smile and smiled back up at me.

"What are you smiling about, Dad?" she demanded.

"Oh, I just realized how much I love all of you," I smiled wider and took my cup of coffee back to my armchair.

"Well, we love you, too," they giggled and chuckled.

"That's my Daddy," Opal admitted with a shake of her head.

"Yep," Linda agreed.

As I set my coffee down and dropped into my easy chair, Evie excused herself from their gossip and spice preparations, saying that she was going up to pick out her bedroom and came into the living room behind me.

"Grampa?" Evie slid gracefully into my lap.

"Yes, baby?" I looked into her limpid gray eyes.

"I, um, I just wanted to, y'know, thank you? I, I mean, I love my Daddy and all, but he can sometimes be such a pain and when he said that he'd already sent us out of the house at the legal age, and that he was through raising us and that we were welcome to visit like good neighbors, but not to stay and that we had our own homes, it hurt so b-b-bad," she buried her face in my neck and began sobbing all over again.

"Baby..."

I didn't know what to say or do, so I just held her in my lap, cuddling her in my arms and stroking her back gently as she cried. She really did love her Daddy, but he was just a plain asshole. He was quick to slap Opal and his kid's faces, but he rarely beat them. His corrections were quick, merciless and to the point. I guess I understood him, but it didn't mean that I liked him much or his methods of raising his family.