TITLE    : For Better or Worse
STORYID  : for-better-or-worse-2
SUMMARY  : DNA changed the world.
AUTHOR   : Ephesus14@lit
DATE     : 2020-12-08
CATEGORY : adult-romance
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |none|


<strong>For better or worse</strong> ...DNA changed the world.



The advent of DNA has changed the world in ways we couldn't comprehend just twenty years ago and has changed an untold number of lives. Cold case murders are being solved almost daily as are other, lesser crimes. Convicted murderers on death row are being found to be innocent of crimes they were convicted of and are being released after spending decades waiting for the state to kill them.



The massive use of DNA has also been used extensively to determine paternity. Using it that way has probably destroyed more marriages and families than anything in the history of the world. That might be an exaggeration, but you get the idea.



I am a watchmaker. I went to Switzerland when I was 18 and studied for three years to learn the trade. My three years there were earmarked by my trips throughout Europe. The highlight of all of my trips was my trip to Rome where I was just lucky enough to see the Pope go by in his limo.



My parents visited me twice while I was there, and I came home to visit twice.



Upon my return home, my dad, David Burnett, loaned me enough money to open a little watch repair shop on one of the main streets in our city. It was in an older house. I used the front as my shop and lived in the back and upstairs.



I have a brother and a sister. My name is Michael, but everyone calls me Mike. My brother is Robert, who we called Bobby, and my sister Roberta, who we called Bertie. Bertie was the oldest, I was next, and finally Bobby. Bertie was in Graduate school working on her Masters in Educational Administration. Bobby was an undergrad working on getting as much pussy as he could.



My business was two years old and in the black. I was making a profit. Not much, but enough.



Bobby called me one day and said he had something to talk about and wanted to come to my shop. He had also asked Bertie to come. They would be at my place at 6:30. They both lived on campus for convenience. Bertie because that's where the library was and Bobby because that's where the pussy was.



Bobby looked serious as they came in. "Do you have anything to drink?" he asked.



"You're not 21 yet, Bobby so no." He knew better than to ask.



We sat around my kitchen table which, by tradition, was where all of our serious family discussions took place.



Bobby started. "Okay. Do you remember three months ago when I took DNA samples from the whole family for a project at school?"



Bertie and I both remembered. "Well, the results came back over a month ago. There seemed to be a mixup so I re-submitted them and it came back the same."



"Okay." I said.



He looked at Bertie then me. "Mike. Our father is not your father."



Bertie and I looked at him, neither of us grasping what he said. "What do you mean?" I asked blankly.



"I mean that the DNA shows that Bertie and I have the same parents, but the three of us only share a mother."



"How can that be?" As soon as I said it, I realized how stupid the question was.



They just looked at each other. Bertie started to cry. "That can't be," she said.



"It was checked twice." Bobby said handing her the results. "And apparently Mom has no idea because she was all for the project."



"Well, what are we going to do?" she asked.



"I think the initial step is up to Mike. What do you think, Mike?"



I was already out of my seat. "Give me those results. I'm going to ask her."



"Want us to go along?"



"No. This is up to me. I'll let you know what happens."



Both of my parents were there when I walked in. Dad had just gotten home and was still in the kitchen. He always came in through the garage into the kitchen and Mom, if she wasn't busy elsewhere, always met him there and they embraced and kissed.



I didn't waste any time. "Do the two of you remember the DNA test Bobby had us take?" They both agreed they did. I held up the results. "The results are back." I took a breath. "Mom, would you tell us who my father is"



"What are you talking about?" they both asked shocked and in unison."



"The results tell us that the two of you are Bobby and Bertie's parents, but only you, Mom, are related to me." Dad and I looked at Mom who stood there in shock.



"There has to be some mistake," she said.



Dad slowly reached for the documents not taking his eyes off mom.



"They tested the DNA twice," I said.



Dad read and re-read the results before handing them back to me. Then saying nothing he went back out the kitchen door to the garage. Mom and I stood there until we heard the garage door go up and his engine start and she bolted for the door. "David. Wait. David. Please."



While she was trying to stop him, I went out the front door to my car. He was out of the garage and on the street with Mom yelling for him to stop. She also yelled for me to stop as I drove away.



I called Bobby and Bertie and told them what I had done. Neither of them had any intention of talking to her, but they both wanted to chat with their father. I didn't want to talk to anyone; at least not yet, so I went home. There were at least six watches for me to repair so I sat at my bench and tried to work.



I couldn't concentrate so I went to my livingroom and sat. And thought. And cried. My life as I had known it was gone and for a short time, I hated my mother. Both Bobby and Bertie called wanting to know if I wanted company. I didn't. The doorbell knocked me out of my reverie about midnight. I opened the door to a very distraught mother.



"May I come in?" she asked.



"Who is he?"



"David, let's talk about it."



I stood blocking her path. "Who is he?"



"David, how much difference would it make if you knew?"



"I'd know who my father is."



"You know who your father is. He's the man who raised you and gave you the money to go to Switzerland, and buy this building so you could start your own business. He's the man who held you when you were sick, and taught you how to tie your shoes ..."



"Who is he?"



"I'm not going to tell you. I made a mistake and I'm ..."



I closed the door in her face. I didn't talk to her for two weeks. She tried to talk to me, but the last time she said anything it was to be adamant that she wasn't going to tell me. I did talk to my Dad and we cried together. He actually moved in with me for three days while he found his own place to live. He also agreed with me that I should at least know who the sperm donor was.



Another two weeks went by. I called her one time and asked her again if she would tell me and again, she refused. I maintained a normal relationship with Bobby and Bertie, up to the point that I told them I was going to seek legal counsel to see if she could be forced to tell me. They weren't happy with that decision and told their mother.



She came to my shop and asked me if it were true that I was going to sue her. I assured her it was. "I have every right to know who he is as well as his, and his family's health history."



"Please don't do that."



"Are you going to tell me?"



"No."



I did my own research first and determined that under the law, it was a fundamental right for a child to know who his or her parents were. It never said how old a child was. I was almost 24, but was still a child ... somebody's child.



I talked to three attorneys. They all agreed I was right in suing my mother, but it was the second one I talked to that I selected to represent me. I was basically not on speaking terms with anybody in my family except my dad. Pseudo-dad that is.



I received a call from my brother, Bobby, right after mom was served. He was pissed, and so was she. "I'll drop it as soon as she tells me who he is." I told him.



"She's adamant," he said. "She'll go to jail first."



"Then she'll go to jail, but I have a right to know who my father is."



"Goddamn it. I'm sorry I started this mess." He ended the call.



It was no more than three or four days after I talked to Bobby, I'd stopped calling him my brother, that I was in a local restaurant trying to eat. Since the whole thing started, I'd lost almost 20 pounds which, quite frankly, didn't hurt me. I was sitting there, picking over my food when my waitress came over.



"Are you allright, sir"



"Oh, yeah, sure, I'm fine. Thank you."



"Is something wrong with the food?"



"No. Everything's fine. I'm just not as hungry as I thought."



She came back a couple more times to check on me before I convinced her I was okay, and I went back to that restaurant the next day just to see her. I didn't eat much that day either, but I enjoyed looking at and talking with Cameron. That was her name. About the fourth time I was there, she spent more time talking with me than her other customers and it kept getting better; at least from my point of view.



It was about the sixth or seventh time I was there that I asked her out. My biggest question for myself was where do you take a waitress on a date? I didn't think she would care for a restaurant, so we went to the theatre. She had never been to live theatre and I hadn't been in a long time. It was a comedy and we both laughed our asses off. We ended the evening with drinks at an upscale bar. When I took her home, my reward was a nice gentle kiss on the lips that I felt in my toes.



The next three dates ended with kisses that just got better.



Cameron had helped me almost forget my suit against my mother. It happened one Sunday. I was at my bench working on an watch which I had promised finish, but hadn't, when she popped in. she knew what I did, but she had not seen me do it so she stood over my shoulder and watched.



One of my most important tools was my magnifying lens attached to my bench. I was using it to finish the watch when she asked me if she could look through it. I worked sitting on a stool so when she asked to look through my glass, I just rolled my stool aside and indicated she should look. She leaned down and looked.



"Everything looks so much bigger," she said. She looked at me, grinned and swiveled the lens so it was right over my lap and she looked through it again; right down at my dick. "Wow. It does make everything bigger."



I stood, held her, and kissed her. "Why don't you look for yourself and see if it needs to be bigger. Less than two minutes later we were getting naked in my bedroom. Neither of us had been married, but we weren't virgins either. My years in Europe allowed me to fuck women from several countries and they all had one thing in common: Fondness for cock.



In my class were people from all over the world, but the common denominator for my particular class, all three years of it, was English was the language used by all the instructors. There were, of course, other classes in other languages, German being the most popular.



One of the first things I learned at school was people who spoke three or more languages are multi-lingual. People who spoke two languages are bi-lingual. People who only spoke one language are Americans. I also learned that in any country I went, if I made any attempt to say anything in their language, they helped you and everything went easier and friendlier.



So Cameron and I found ourselves naked in my bedroom standing looking at each other. There was no hurry, just controlled excitement. She touched my body and guided me where she wanted me. I ended up on my back with her between my legs. Her body was in a modified crouching position for want of a better description. Her mouth was on my dick and her legs were tucked under her breasts.



There are no bad blowjobs, but some are better than others, and Cameron's first one for me was better than any I had ever had. Even in her crouching tiger position, she kept her eyes on my face, and I like a woman who watches the facial expression of the man she is blowing. She could tell by my expression when I was about to blow, and she stopped, licked my dick all over, sucked my balls one at a time into her mouth and just generally kept me from cumming. When she knew it was safe, down went her mouth again to cover my cock.



She seemed to enjoy the sucking me off segment, but I wanted to see how she like the getting her pussy eaten segment so I managed to turn her over and get in the same position she had been in. Much to my surprise it was a lot more comfortable and my tongue could do more and better things to and for her pussy. Her legs were bent and her knees in the air and I was able to move my hands up her body. When she felt that, her hands grabbed my and held on tight. It didn't take long for her body to start flopping around like she was trying to find the perfect position for my tongue, but to my way of thinking they were all perfect. When she came, her hips went straight up in the air and stayed until her orgasm was over.



She put her hands on the sides of my head and pulled me out of my crouching position. "Fuck me, David. Fuck me like you're trying to pound my pussy through the bed. Fuck me hard. I need it hard."



Who was I to argue with a request like that, so the plunging and pounding began. The harder I fucked her, the harder she wanted it, and the harder she wanted it, the harder I tired at accommodate her.



We tried killing each other with pounding and plunging until three in the morning. She had to be at the restaurant at five for the breakfast crowd and my shop opened at nine.



The next week was the same, but we did our fucking at her apartment so she could get some rest.



I hadn't forgotten my suit against my mother, but Cameron certainly helped me put it on the back burner.



It was on a Wednesday morning. I was meeting with my attorney because we were going to be in court in less than a month. The only person in my family who would talk to me was my Dad, only he wasn't my Dad and I had no idea how to address him anymore. Dad, Daddy, Pop, Father, none of those names were appropriate. I guess I could have called him "man who raised me," but old habits were hard to break and every time we talked or I thought of him, it was always Dad.



"I've talked to your mother's attorney and she is adamant that she isn't going to tell who your father is." Said my attorney. "David also has an attorney and is divorcing your mother. He also has demanded she tell who your father is because he wants to sue him."



"Let me ask you something," I said. "She told my brother, or rather half-brother, that she will go to jail before she tells. Is that a possibility?"



"It is in this state. The judge can jail her for contempt of court and then keep her there until she tells; depends on the judge.



The day finally came that I was to face my mother in court. An almost 24 year old man suing his mother to find out who his father is. Pathetic.



At the beginning, the attorneys gave their opening statements. My mother's tried to convince the court that she and the sperm donor's rights to privacy overruled my right to know who my father was. My attorney, on the other hand, insisted that I had an inherent right to know who it was, if for no other reason than to know any possible health conditions I might be facing, but also, the personality of the donor. Was he a criminal, possibly a murderer whose personality traits I might have inherited? What are his work habits, education level, etc. He insisted that all of those things were my right to know.



My mother's attorney called a psychiatrist to try to explain how traumatic it would be if she had to disclose something in her past which she has fought for years to bury and forget. He insisted that she had been successful in burying it because she even let her other son go ahead with the DNA project at school.



Then it was our turn. "Why don't you want your son to know who his father is?"



"He just doesn't need to know."



"Why?"



"Because it wouldn't change his life one way or the other."



"Don't you think the current or potential health of his father might be of a sufficient concern that it would be better for him to know?"



"He doesn't have to worry about that. His father is in perfect health."



"Oh, how do you know that?"



"I just know."



The judge broke in. "Answer the question, please."



"I just talked to him." she answered.



"Oh? When?" Asked my attorney.



"This morning."



"What does he say about his son?"



"He is positive Michael is not his son and wants nothing to do with him."



"Does he live in town?"



"I don't have to answer that."



"Okay. Here's one you do have to answer." Said the Judge. "What's his name?"



"I'm not going to tell you."



The judge spoke again. "Ma'am, I'm ordering you to answer the question or you're going to jail for contempt of court. Is that the way you want it?" he asked.



"No, but it appears that's the way it's going to be."



"You're absolutely right. Bailiff, remand her to custody until such time as she divulges the name of her son's father. Court's dismissed."



There was a frenzied excitement as she was handcuffed and led off to jail crying. Bobby and Bertie just glared at me. I just sat there. I had just been responsible for my own mother going to jail.



I stood and started to leave and dropped my phone. I leaned over to pick it up and glanced at the table where my mother had been sitting. On the floor was a phone. In the scramble after she was arrested it must have fallen unnoticed sort of like mine just did. I could have picked it up and turned it in, but I recognized the color. It was a god-awful-ugly purple and it was my mother's. I knew there were cameras in the courtroom and I didn't want anybody to see me pick it up so I walked over to the table and pretended to trip and fall. When I was on the ground, I put the phone on my pocket. I stood, brushed myself off and walked out.



Cameron called that day and said any man who would put his mother in jail was an asshole she wanted no part of and never wanted to see me again.



Later that night I was licking my wounds from Cameron's phone call, it dawned on me that my mother said she talked to my father that morning. I immediately grabbed her phone and looked at it. She never locked it as far back as I could remember so I looked at her recent calls. There were 15 of them. Fourteen unanswered. There was one at 7:15 that morning that she did answer. I looked at her recent calls and saw that she had either called that number or been called by it quite a few times since we saw the DNA results.



I was tempted to call the number, but decided that if it was him, he might get spooked. If he was paying attention, he knew she was in jail and wouldn't be calling him. He also had to know that if you went to jail for contempt of court there was no bail.



I put her phone down and just looked at it. So near, yet, so far. I didn't feel as if I could confide in anyone so I didn't know what to do. I did make a copy of the number she talked to, however. I didn't recognize the Area Code, so I looked it up.



One way of knowing who any number belonged to was to go online and ask. There was no shortage of sites that would, for the low price of $3.99, tell you who the number belonged to and their address. You could also get any police record they may have, employment information, number of marriages, divorces, and on and on. Yes, sir, only $3.99 and $39.99 for every month thereafter unless you cancelled within seven days. If you did cancel, you got your information for $3.99.



That's what I did. I put in the number and after going through all the machinations they asked for, I almost instantaneously had a name and address. I stared blankly at the name. I had heard it many times before and had spoken it more than once myself. But it couldn't be right. He couldn't be my father. I always thought people like that were exempt from people doing what I just did. I always thought their personal information was protected, but apparently not. Not in this case, at any rate.



I sat and stared at the name for a long time before picking up her phone and going to her emails. The first one was apparently written after she called and told him about the DNA results. There were a couple more discussing a plan of action before they decided to switch to messages. Those continued even as she was in court the day before.

<hr pg="2" />While he admitted the affair, he denied paternity.



"It had to be you. I've only slept with David and you," she wrote.



"How do I know that?"



"You bastard."



It took some doing, but later in their messages he almost admitted being my father.



"If it turns out I am, we have to keep it a secret. This could ruin me."



"I've been trying not to tell, but he's my son and I love him. I have no right keeping him from you."



"And I have every right not to let him know. I've a right to my privacy and I want no part of him. Besides, he's the only one of your children that will never amount to anything. He never even went to college."



They went back and forth and the closer it got to the court date, the more insistent he was that she keep his identity secret.



The morning of court was his last text. "Remember. Stay quiet or I will be ruined."



So she's in jail and he isn't ruined. Yet! But the assholes' insistence on my mother going to jail in lieu of disclosing his name, plus his comments about my not amounting to anything, were pissing me off so the most important thing now was to get his DNA and compare it to mine, but I knew there was no way I could accomplish that. Another way would be to submit mine again and check it against his family tree which was available online. That would be legal, so that's what I did. It still took two weeks but was conclusive that he and I had a father-son relationship.



The first Monday my mother was in jail the judge brought her into the courtroom. I was there and watched the judge ask her the same question. "What's his name?" he asked. "I'm not going to tell you." Said my mother. So back to jail she went.



After that, I decided to tell my attorney what I had done. He chewed my ass out for not turning in her lost phone, then using it to get the information I did. He wanted to know where the phone was. I told him at my house. He suggested I give it to him for safe keeping.



Then he congratulated me on getting the identity of my sperm donor. Now we had to decide what to do with it. "Get my mother out of jail, first." I told him. He notified the judge we were no longer interested, but might come back to it at a later date.



The judge shrugged. He had gone through this before. He had us all back in court that afternoon. "Bring her in," he directed.



She appeared, once again, in her orange jumper. She smiled at Bobby and Bertie, and barely glanced at me. Was I happy to have done it? Of course not, and would probably regret it for the rest of my life considering I alienated her, and Bobby, and Bertie.



She sat at the table with her attorney.



The judge spoke. "Your son is no longer insistent on your providing the identity of his sperm donor therefore the court no longer has interest in the case. Your contempt charge is vacated and you are free to go." He banged his gavel.



She looked at me and stood, still looking. She watched me until she left the courtroom. There was neither smile nor sign of relief.



My phone rang a few hours later. It was Bertie's phone. "Hello," I said.



It was my mother. "Why?" Was all she said.



"Because I know who he is, and I'm going to drag his sorry ass through as many courts as I can."



"Oh my God, Mike. Don't do that. You'll ruin him."



"Do you think I care? He's an arrogant, bigoted, bleeding asshole. He is more to blame than I am for YOU being in jail because he convinced you to protect him. All I wanted was to know who my father was and that would have been it. The public would never have known, but the two of you made a big deal out of it. What does he have on you? What did you do that was so bad that all he had to do was say, 'don't tell them it was me' and you obeyed even at the cost of your own freedom?"



"I'm sorry Michael, I really am, but I swear I never knew you weren't your father's, er, ah, David's son until you told me."



"That part I understand. What I don't understand is your cheating in the first place and then, as I've just said, protecting that asshole, causing you to go to jail."



"Michael, let me talk to him again before you do anything rash."



"Why? What would he do? Lie? Admit it? Deny it? Then what? Get his people to sweep it under the rug? Bullshit. I'm going to get his ass in court and make him tell me what he knows about any health problems I might encounter down the road."



I ended the call. She was still protecting him.



The watch I was working on the next morning was finished. It was back together and all I had to do was set the date and the time, and put it in its' own little brown envelope with the name and phone number of the owner. I put my fee on the envelope before I put the watch in.



I reached for the next little brown envelope, opened it and shook the watch out of it so I could get started. My back was to the counter and the front door. When the door opened, the bell over the door tinkled. I turned and my mother was standing there.



I sat on my stool behind the counter and watched as she approached the counter and stood there. I had nothing to say, so I waited for her.



"I talked to your father and he is really adamant that we not expose him."



"And I am just as adamant that we, or at least, I, do; and I promise I will."



"What will it prove Mike? What will it prove for him to get in front of a judge and admit that he had an affair with a married woman and made her pregnant?"



"It would let his adoring public see for themselves what kind of slimeball he actually is. And it will tell his wife and his other three kids the same thing."



"And you get the satisfaction of bringing him down. Is that it? You get to play 'BMOC'?"



"You don't get it. I don't give a shit if anyone ever knows I'm his son; in fact I'd prefer not to be associated with him. I had a family until we discovered my mother slept with a politician who travels around the country extoling the virtues of faithfulness in business and church, but mostly in marriage."



"Is there nothing I can do to convince you to just talk to him one on one? He's willing to pay you."



"That tears it. The son-of-a-bitch is willing to pay his son to stay hidden. He's even worse than I thought. And you're still doing your best to protect him? Why? As a matter of fact why did you sleep with him in the first place? Are you still sleeping with him? Did you ever stop? David is a hell of a lot bigger and better man than that asshole."



"Mike, I'm not going to talk with you about my affair. That's too weird."



"And our current situation isn't? Just answer me. Did your affair ever end?"



She turned and walked out without answering. I returned to the watch I hadn't had a chance to start repairing.



Two days later, two men in suits entered my shop. "What can I do for you?" I asked.



"Are you Michael Burnett?"



"I am."



"We represent Senator Harold Franklin and we'd like to talk with you."



"About what?"



"It's his understanding that you are accusing him of being your father."



"I'm not accusing him of it. I'm stating a fact."



"Exactly what proof do you have? He's never taken a DNA test to compare his with yours, so all you have is rumor and he wants it stopped."



I took out the copy of the DNA comparison from the family tree website where it showed the conclusive father-son relationship. I tossed it to them. "Now get out and don't bother coming back."



Their visit gave me a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was an organization in town that trained guard dogs. I closed my shop and went to see them and rented one of their dogs. All I had to do was spend some time alone with the dog and her trainer and the dog would recognize me and not tolerate anyone who came near me. I learned that she was fickle and could be trained to change allegiance in a very short period of time, but I thought she'd do for my purposes. She became my almost constant companion.



Her trainer was about my age and it was apparent she loved her dogs. Her name was Linda Hardaway. "If you love your dogs so much, why do you train them to attack people?" I asked.



"Because I like people more than I like dogs. The dogs won't hurt anyone unless they see someone menacing the person they are supposed to guard. It's pretty simple."



"Have any of your dogs turned on the person they're supposed to be guarding?"



She laughed. "Not so far."



I took Gretchen home with me. Gretchen was a three year old Doberman Pinscher who was very friendly once she sniffed around me for several minutes. Then she curled up at my feet. I liked Gretchen. Gretchen would stay at my feet unless someone got too close, then she would sit up and growl. She and I were behind the counter so interaction with my customers was almost impossible.



After reviewing all of the information I had given him, my attorney sent a letter with supporting documentation, to Senator Harold Franklin's office asking him to reply by letter recognizing his paternity of one Michael Burnett.



The return letter denied paternity and claimed the DNA Evidence was fake and the Senator considered the matter closed.



The next thing the Senator received was a notice from the court requiring that he submit a DNA test. He refused.



It was crunch time and my last chance to stop the storm that was about to befall the Senator. I made no effort to try to stop it. When the Court Order was sent, the press got the story as we knew they would.



It was time to bring out the big guns. I retrieved my mother's phone and gave it to my attorney. He had to charge the battery before he got anything, but once he saw the messages, he grinned.



"Can we use these messages considering how we got them?" I asked.



"I believe so. We'll maintain that you found your mother's phone, which you did, intended to return it to her, but since it wasn't locked and given that you are her son, it is only natural that your curiosity prompted you to explore it. That's human nature and while exploring it you came upon the messages. We'll be okay."



He made copies of all of their messages because he knew they would be screaming for the phone's return. His IT Guy took everything we would ever need off the phone.



Then he took a picture of four specific messages wherein they acknowledged their affair from years ago, and presented them to the court. Whereupon another letter was sent to the Senator informing him that if he chose to disobey the court order, he would be taken into custody and escorted to a facility where his DNA would be taken, by force if necessary.



The press basically said that the biggest supporter in the United States Senate of family values, two parent homes, faithfulness to your spouse, and full church support, had been accused of sleeping with a married woman and having a son by her. It happened a long time ago, but the fact remained he was elected and re-elected on a moral superiority platform which he chose not to live by.



In a live, televised press conference, he denied having any affair, therefore there could not possibly be a son.



I was working on a watch when Bobby called. "You had to do it didn't you? You sorry bastard. Mom never did anything to hurt you."



"Bobby, don't you understand? She destroyed our family. She cheated on your father. YOUR FATHER. Not mine. Yours. Do you understand what cheating means? She went to bed with a man not her husband. They got naked and fucked. When she did that she broke her marriage vows. Vows in which she promised to be faithful to your father. You and Bertie should be more upset than I. She didn't cheat on me. She cheated on you. What part of that don't you understand? And she cheated with an unmitigated asshole. A man who lied to get elected, not once but multiple times. And he's still lying. He knows it. Mom knows it. And I know it. And before this is over, the whole world will know it. Once I find out his family's medical history, he can kiss my ass. I want nothing to do with him."



He was quiet for a long time before he ended the call without so much as a goodbye, kiss my ass, or fuck you. I went back to repairing the watch.



I was visited by someone in the press at least once a day for two weeks. Gretchen growled a lot during that time. Two weeks that were filled with the public reading copies of the redacted messages and emails Franklin and my mother exchanged. When a judge announced, based on the messages between Franklin and my mother that there was probable cause for him to order a DNA test, the whole fucking press corps went crazy. I was also required to submit a test. I closed my shop until further notice and stayed secluded.



I wondered how my mother was handling it. We were required to appear in court the day the results were announced. He was there with his wife and children, and I was there. My mother was not.



When the judge announced that the Senator was, in fact, my father, two police officers grabbed me and hustled me out through the judge's chambers, down the back steps, out the door, into their car, and to my shop to avoid the press. Franklin, on the other hand, held a press conference, cried, apologized to his wife and children, apologized to God for sinning, and proclaimed that he was going back to work for the good of the American people. What a major league asshole.



The judge also announced that Franklin was required to produce his family's health history back as far as he could, but at least two generations. That information had to be presented to me or in the event I chose not to receive it in person, my attorney. I opted to have it sent to my attorney. I was still stung by his comments to my mother, especially that I wouldn't amount to anything.



My shop stayed closed for two more weeks. The only major news event during that period was the announcement that the wife of Senator Franklin was seeking a divorce from the Senator. That two weeks was as long as our story was of interest to the public. Those two weeks, however, I could not leave my shop because of the press, but Gretchen made them not want to hang around long. Everytime someone tried to ring the bell or knock, she heard them in advance and started growling. Nobody wanted to stick around when they heard her.



Our story faded into history and I reopened my shop. I had rented Gretchen, but she was the only company I had. I couldn't go out without being stared at or pointed to. My business picked up considerably, however. I called Linda Hardaway, Gretchen's owner and renewed my rental contract.



"I have a rule," she said. If you rent one of my dogs for six months, you own him or her."



"Okay, extend my rental for six months and send me her pedigree papers."



So I owned my first dog.



Shortly after that, my attorney called to tell me he had received Franklin's family health report. Franklin's family! For better or worse, it was my family too, I suppose. I didn't want to read it, but I did after looking at it for three days, and found nothing to be concerned about.



The next day, I was sitting at my work bench and heard the bell over my door tinkle. Gretchen perked and I turned to see who it was. Two women and a man approached my counter. I stood and walked to the counter. "May I help you?" I asked.



They looked at each other. One of the men started. "Hello Michael. We're Harold Franklin's other children, and we thought we'd stop by and talk, if you don't mind."



"Listen, I have no desire ..."



He interrupted me. "Before you continue, let me say that we hate what he did to our family, but like it or not, you're one of us, and we wanted to get to know you as our brother. None of us had any control over what happened, but it happened. Now we would like to make the best of it. We would like for you to consider having dinner with us so we can talk."



Well that certainly took the wind out of my sails. "Uh, sure. Why not. When did you have in mind?"



"How about tonight?"



And so it happened. I met my half siblings and had a nice evening with them. It ended with loose plans to do more together. There was an invitation to meet their mother, but nothing about their father other than the pending divorce and the probability that he would not be re-elected. They also freely added that they hadn't seen their father since that day in the courtroom when he was told I was his son.



They were all three married and wanted me to meet their families. They arranged for dinner at their mother's house for Friday evening. I was hesitant at first, but decided to go. It was a fun evening and I met six nieces and nephews. I also met Mrs. Franklin. She met me at the door and hugged me like she meant it.



It was another nice evening and I began to wonder how an asshole like Franklin could have such a nice family and cheat on them. I guess I just didn't understand the cheater's mentality. They had dinners as a family with the mother, three children, and their families at least once a month. The dinners, of course, used to include the Senator, but he was no longer welcome in the house. Every time they had one, I was invited. I hesitated at first, but then I started going and always enjoyed it.



It was some time before I heard from Bobby, Bertie, or my mother, and then it was by coincidence. I was at the pet store in the mall. Gretchen needed a new collar. I didn't like the one she came to me with. It had spikes on it and was meant to cause fear, so I wanted to change it. I paid for it and was walking out and almost ran into Bertie who was deep in conversation my mother.



"Oh, excuse me," I mumbled before I saw who it was.



"No, excuse me," said Bertie.



Then mom recognized me. "Oh, Michael. We were just talking about you yesterday and wondered how you were doing."



I was a bit taken aback first by who they were and second that they, especially, she, deigned to speak to me. "I'm doing well, thank you." I started off.



"Uh, Michael. Would you happen to know where your father is?"



"Yes. He's in Washington."



"What's he doing there?"



"That's where he works."



Then the light went off. "I'm sorry. I meant David of course."



"I have no idea. He stayed with me for a few days before he found a place to live. I haven't seen him since."



"Okay. Thank you. Oh, by the way. We're having a birthday dinner for Bobby tomorrow. We'd like for you to join us."



I thought about it and came to the realization that if they had really wanted me to come, they would have asked me before accidently running into me the day before the event. "I'm sorry, but I'm unavailable, but happy birthday Bobby." I walked away.



"Mike. Mike." I heard my mother call as I walked away. "I'm sorry." She said.



Gretchen didn't seem to care that she had a new collar and I missed my mother, Bobby, and Bertie. I came to that realization when it dawned on me that Gretchen was the only real friend I had.



The following week Gretchen's trainer, Linda Hardaway, stopped by to check on her. We talked for a long time. She asked me if my legal problems were over



I laughed. "I hope so. I don't know how much longer I could take it."



"So you're the son of a United States Senator."



"I guess I am.



"How does that feel?"



I chuckled. "I've never met him and I still come in to repair watches every day."



"Do you give yourself any time off?"



"I do. Most Saturday afternoons and Sundays."



"That must play hell with your social life."



I laughed out loud that time. "I haven't had a social life in months."



"Well then, you need one and I'm volunteering my services ... as your social secretary only. I'm not at your beck and call, but I do know a few available, unattached, women.



She started setting me up with dates. "Hey, Mike. Judy Sloan will meet you at the 121 for dining and dancing. Wear a jacket and tie." Or "Hey, hot stuff. Les, short for Leslie will meet you at The Pilgrim at seven. Dress is casual."



This went on for a couple of weeks before I asked her to meet me at my shop. "Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, But you going about it all wrong."

<hr pg="3" />"How's that?"



"You're throwing all kinds of women at me. Why don't you ask me to give you an idea of the kind I'm interested in?"



"Okay, Mike, what kind of woman interests you?"



"Your kind."



"My kind?"



"Yeah. Your kind. Why don't you recommend yourself for me?"



She looked at me. "I never gave any thought that you might be interested in me."



"Why's that?"



"Because I'm skinny, I have no hips and my breasts are small."



I chuckled. "Just the way I like them."



"Really?" she asked.



"Really. So how about having dinner with me tonight?"



She smiled broadly. "I'd love to."



That was the first of many evenings she and I spent together. After two months of evenings, it became nights, then weekends.



We were having dinner at my house one evening when a news flash came on the TV. They said that Senator Franklin's lover was just divorced from her husband and coincidentally Senator Franklin's divorce from his wife was announced at very same time. The talking head then discussed the probability that the lover and the Senator might get together and live happily ever after after 24 years of being forced to be separated; like they were in a fairytale and had to wait until the magic spell was over before they could be happy. I almost threw up.



I turned the TV off. Linda saw the expression on my face and decided it would be better if I were left alone, so she went home. Gretchen even stayed away from me that evening.



The first call I received later that evening was from my new, older, half-brother. His name was Kenneth. "We knew about our mother's divorce, but just heard about your mother. Katie (my new half-sister) wondered if you heard and if you were okay, so we thought we'd call and check. So, how are you?"



"Actually, I'm pissed. The friggin' news seemed to romanticize the whole thing not realizing that two families were destroyed because of them."



He chuckled. "Kelly (my other new half-brother) said you would be pissed and just to let you know, we all had the same reaction as you. Why don't you pop over, we'll send the kids home and the adults will cuss our father and your mother over a glass or two of adult beverage?"



I was there with a glass in my hand 30 minutes later. It turned out to be one of the most fun evenings I'd ever had.



Katie, my new half-sister, sat next to me on one of the two sofas in the livingroom. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked.



"I'm going with someone now." I answered.



"Is it serious?"



I laughed. "Define serious."



"Do you intend to marry her?'



"I don't think so. She's attractive and treats me well, but I'm not sure that we love each other."



"So it's just a fuck-buddy relationship."



The others had been listening and nobody seemed shocked by her language. That was another facet of my new family I could appreciate.



"I suppose you could say that."



"I am saying it. The question is are you saying it?"



I thought for a few seconds. "Yeah, I guess I am."



"Good. That's what I wanted to hear because I have a girl for you."



"Oh, no." I said.



Then all three of them pounced on me. "She's perfect for you." Said Kelly and Kenneth at the same time.



"How do you know who I'm talking about?" Asked Katie.



"It's Pat Chester." Kenneth told her.



"How did you know?"



"Because Kelly and I have already talked about her."



"Why didn't you tell me?" She said as she gently punched him on the arm and smiled.



Bobby, Bertie and I used to be the same way. I watched them and felt a little sorry for myself. I was a half-brother in two families, but not a full brother in either. I watched and listened to them enjoying each other and their banter. The longer I watched, the sadder I got.



Finally, I stood and started making my goodbyes.



"Wait," said Kelly. "We haven't settled your girlfriend issue yet."



I forced a smile. "Maybe next time."



The three of them walked me to the door. Kenneth and Kelly shook my hand and Katie hugged me. I was almost out the door when their mother rushed out. "Don't you leave without saying goodbye young man." She hugged me.



I really felt sorry for myself on the way home and debated calling my first family.



The next morning I started to call Bobby, but I couldn't. Then I thought of all of my half-siblings names. Bobby and Bertie in one family. Katie, Kenneth, and Kelly in the other. All of the full siblings had names that started with the same letter. My name was Michael. Something else that set me apart. I could get seriously depressed if I didn't concentrate.



Linda and I saw each other two more times that week. The last time was the last time. We both just knew it and kissed each other goodbye.



It was Gretchen and me together again.



I had put the same wheel in a watch for the fourth time. My work concentration was absolutely shot to hell so I put the watch on my work bench and sat there staring out the big window in front. I watched a car pull in. The driver opened their door and started to get out. With one foot on the ground and one still in the car, she sat there for a full two minutes before getting back in and driving off.



It was my mother.



Katie called me that afternoon and invited me to dinner at her and her husband's house for the next evening.



"Is Pat Chester going to be there?" I asked.



She didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. The two of you are meant for each other."



I laughed. "What time?"



"Six thirty. It's casual so don't dress up."



I sat back at my workbench and I heard my bell tinkle. Gretchen snapped to attention and I turned to see who it was. My mother had come back. I sat on my stool and waited for her to say something. It took a long time.



"I'm sorry, Michael, and I need you to forgive me."



I stood and walked to the counter. Gretchen tried to stay between the counter and me. If there was any trouble she wanted to be ready to protect me.



I put my hands on the counter. My mother looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry starting from way back when I had the affair. I cheated on David and hurt him badly, but I hurt you just as badly." She paused. "I'll never be able to make up for what I did, and you were right. I was more concerned about protecting him than protecting my own son. That's almost as bad as the affair itself and I have no idea why I did it. Why I wanted to protect him is a mystery to me."



She reached, put her hands on my hands as gently as she could. "I love you, Michael, and I've missed you. What do I have to do to get my son back?"



I opened the gate at the end of the counter allowing me to go around to her. I looked at her. We were both crying. "You just did it, mom. I love you." We hugged and cried some more. Gretchen sat and watched.



I put the closed sign on my door and we went to the kitchen for coffee. We sat and talked for three hours. I learned that David was in a different state, but they were talking about a possible reconciliation. He was coming to see everyone in a couple of weeks and wanted to know if I would be there.



"If he wants me there, I'll be there," I said.



"He does and so do I. Actually so do your brother and sister." There was a pause. "Have you had anything to do with Senator Franklin or his family?"



"Not with him, but I've become friends with his family."



I took a chance. "What about you? Do you have anything to do with him?"



"No. I haven't seen him or heard from him and don't intend to. I have no idea how I let him talk me into an affair. But the good thing is, I have you." We cried a bit more. "Will you stop by the house soon?"



"I'd love too."



We kissed a mother-son kiss on the cheek and she started to leave, but stopped, turned to me and spoke. "In answer to your question about whether or not the affair is still going on. It happened one time, Michael. Only once." That night I slept better than I had in a long time.



The next night I was at Katie's house at 6:30. Her husband, Jerry, met me at the door. I gave him the bottle of C C Ranch Cab I brought. Katie and Pat were in the kitchen. I went to Katie, we hugged and did the cheek-kiss-thing before she introduced me to Pat. I stuck my hand out, but she ignored it, brushed past it and hugged me.



She stepped back and we looked at each other. Neither of us had said a word. All we did was hug and look.



There was nothing exceptional about her looks; but then there wasn't with mine either. I had lost a bit of weight the previous few months, and quite frankly, it looked good on me. Jerry had followed me into the kitchen. After the introductions he looked at the wine I brought.



"Come with me," he said.



We went to his basement where his wine cooler was. It must have held 100 bottles. He opened the door and pointed to a shelf. "Check it out," he said and indicated I should take one out. I did and it was the same as the bottle I brought him. "Did Katie tell you that was my favorite wine?"



"No. I brought it because it's my favorite." We laughed and went back upstairs to the ladies where he told his wife about the wine. He opened the bottle and poured each of us a glass which pretty much emptied that bottle, but he had plenty of others.



Dinner was great. The food was wonderful and the company was among the best I'd ever had. It was after two in the morning before any of us realized how late it was. All four of us had to work so we broke up for the night. Another handshake from Jerry, hugs and cheek kisses from both of the ladies. Actually, from Pat, I received a hug, a kiss, and her phone number.



The next evening Katie called and asked how I liked Pat. I told her the truth. That I was impressed and I'm seldom that. I told her I liked Pat and, if she would allow it, I'd like to spend a lot more time with her.



"Oh, she'll allow it. I've already talked to her. You can call her anytime, she is looking forward to it."



Katie was right. When I called Pat the next day she seemed genuinely happy that I called. We talked for at least three hours.



We had our first date two days later. It didn't take long for us to be spending all of our waking moments together. For the first two months I made no attempt at any kind of sex. We kissed, but I never once reached for a tit or her pussy. I was in no hurry and neither was she.



Early in our dating, I decided to stop by my mother's house. She must have had a phone because everyone has one, but I didn't know her number, so one evening I rang her doorbell. She answered and lunged at me and held me like she was never going to let me go. I didn't mind so much because I missed my mother. Franklin's children missed him, too. And Bobby and Bertie missed their father, David. I missed him as well.



Mom and I sat and talked like we did last time. It felt good to be in the house I grew up in and be surrounded by all of the familiar things therein. Before I left, I made sure to get her number. Her purple phone was still in the possession of my attorney and he could keep it as far as I was concerned.



"Your father, er, ah, David will be here over the weekend. Can you join us for dinner on Sunday evening?"



"You can call him my father. It's okay. He's the only one I've ever known."



At home late that night, I thought again about family. It would be good to be a family again.



Pat and I had dinner with all the Franklin's on Saturday evening. Franklin had not been home since his wife filed for divorce. He stayed in Washington. As a result, his children hadn't seen him in a long time. They'd talked to him, but not seen him. The adults were sitting at the huge dining table in the big diningroom while the youngsters were in the small diningroom. The doorbell rang, and Marian Franklin, Senator Franklin's ex and the mother of three of his children, went to answer it. They had to go by the small diningroom to get to the large one and we heard all of the kids scream, "Grandpa" Everybody around the table looked at me.



I wiped my mouth with my napkin, put it on my plate, and stood. "If you'll excuse me. I have to go." I looked at Pat. "May I take you home?"



"I'd like to stay," she said.



I nodded to her.



Katie spoke. "Mike, please stay. You have to meet him sometime."



"Katie, he said I would never amount to anything. He also basically ridiculed me because I never went to college. My three years in school were as tough as any four in any college anywhere. I don't have to be around someone who thinks so little of me, especially my sperm donor. I'm sorry if it ruins the relationship I have with the rest of you because I've come to feel at home with you. Excuse me."



I walked past the small dining room where all the commotion was. The kids were happy to see their grandfather, as they should be. I never looked in as I passed, but I heard my name. I kept walking. Marian caught me after I was out the front door and on the big porch.



"Where are you going?"



"Home. Thank you for dinner."



"Please stay."



"No thank you. The others will explain it to you." As I hugged her goodbye, I looked over her shoulder to find Franklin watching us. "Fuck!" I thought as I drove home. I lost a family and a girlfriend in a matter of minutes.



The next day was dinner at mom's house. David had been in town all weekend and he and mom had talked a lot about reconciliation. Bobby and Bertie had spent some time with him as well. Dinner was going to be another tense time because I had neither seen nor heard from either of them in months. I rang the bell and Bertie opened the door. She pounced on me and hugged me. "I've missed you, brother," she said. I received the same from both Bobby and David. We smiled, laughed, and joked until late.



I felt good when I left.



Pat called the next day. "I hope you understand why I stayed Saturday evening. I have been friends with that family most of my life."



"Of course I understand."



"I'm glad. What time are you picking me up Thursday?" We were going to a play. Neither of us had ever been to one, but one of her friends had given her two tickets.



"Thursday? Oh, I'm sorry, but I've been invited out by friends I've known most of my life."



The phone was silent. Then I heard. "I blew it, didn't I?"



"Good bye, Pat."



I usually heard from someone in my Franklin family at least weekly, but a month went by and nothing. One day Katie came into my shop. "Hello, Michael. How've you been?"



"Not bad, Katie. How are you?"



"It's been better." She paused. "We miss you and want you to come back."



"I miss all of you more than I thought I would, but I don't have the forgiveness and compassion to deal with your father."



"We understand, but he's your father, too, and children have trouble with their parents all the time. The two of you can work it out."



"Katie, do you understand that I'm 24 years old and just found out who my father is? I've only seen him in person twice, I've never spoken to him, and the only things he has ever said about me were bad."



"And exactly how many nice things have you had to say about him?" She cocked her head and smiled. She had me and she knew it.



I smiled and shook my head. "None."



"Listen, brother of mine. Your mother and our father had an affair a long time ago. We don't know why they were attracted to each other, but they were. All we know is that they both needed to get their rocks off and they happened to be together when that need arose. We can only assume that they wanted to be together at the same time, therefore their little fuck party was planned. Neither of us had any idea they even knew each other, but apparently your mother volunteered in his very first campaign office. They met. They fucked. You were born. Had they not met and fucked you wouldn't be here. Have you ever thought of that?"



"Yes, I have."



"And exactly what conclusion did you reach?"



"Most of the time I'm happy to be here ... or anywhere."



"We agree. We're happy you're here as well. So we're having dinner on Sunday. Are you coming?"



"I'd love to."



She started to come behind the counter to hug me, but Gretchen's growl stopped her. "Oh, by the way. Pat will be there." She hurried out before I could say anything.



Sunday came and it was dinner time. Everyone there seemed as happy to see me as I was to see them. Pat stood off to the side. We acknowledged each other with nods, but that was it. We were seated next to each other at dinner, but beyond "pass the salt" we had nothing to say. After dinner I was in the living room playing with my nieces and nephews. We were joined by everyone else and the room was filled with laughter and fun.



It started getting late so we broke up the party. I had finished my goodbyes, hugged and cheek kissed Katie and Marian, nodded to Pat and headed for the door. Marian stopped me. "Mike, Katie brought Pat over. Could you see that she gets home?"



"I uh, I believe she would prefer someone else take her. Good night."



"Wait. Pat. Is it okay if Mike takes you home?"



"If he doesn't mind."



Marian looked at me like a mother looks at a son who has done something wrong. "Of course he doesn't. Do you Mike?"



"No. No. Of course not." The house and people in it were making it feel more like home. Outside I opened the passenger door for her.



"Thank you." She said softly.



I had been to her house, so knew where I was going. Nothing was said until we got there. I started to get out so I could go around and open her door for her. "No. You don't have to." She opened the door and started to get out, but changed her mind. "I'm not leaving until I say something," she said. "I made a mistake. You took me to their house and I should have left when you asked me to. They are my dearest friends, but I'm not falling in love with any of them. Being as close to you as I was at dinner and not having you talk to me was the worst feeling I ever had. Good night. Thank you for the ride home."



I touched her arm and stopped her. "What do you mean you're not falling in love with any of them?"



"I'm not. I was falling in love with you, but if this evening was any example of how you feel about me, I won't waste my time."



We looked at each other before I spoke. "It's still early. Would you like to go someplace for a drink?"



She smiled broadly. "Why don't we drink here?"



Ten minutes later we were on her sofa with drinks in our hands. Five minutes after that we were making out like teenagers. Within 30 minutes of getting her home we were in her bedroom getting naked. We undressed ourselves so I didn't see any part of her naked body until I saw it all. She had obviously spent some time in the sun naked because her tan was perfect. There were white bikini lines that fired my imagination. Here I was looking at the totally nude body of a beautiful woman and I was trying to imagine what she looked like in a bikini. I didn't think that way for long, however because she dropped to her knees and knee walked to me never taking her eyes off her prize. When she got next to me, she put both of her hands on my legs and shivered. My dick was about half hard and bouncing up and down waiting for her to touch it, and touch it she did, but not with her hands. She opened her mouth and timed her lunge so that when my dick bounced up, she lunged forward and caught it in her mouth. It took about three back and forth moves of her head for me to get fully hard. I think she was surprised by how fast it happened. One second she had a semi-soft organ in her mouth, the next was a railroad spike.



And that spike was no longer gently sliding in and out of her mouth, it was slamming into her making her head bounce back and forth. I thought she was going to have a major headache. It reached a point when I moved my hips backward getting ready for another lunge at her mouth, her head also went backwards and my dick was stabbing air. When I realized I was just fucking air, I stopped moving. She took my dick in her hand, looked at it as if trying to memorize it, leaned forward, stuck her tongue in the tip and moved it around. Then she kissed it. Softly, light, and gently. I almost didn't feel it.

<hr pg="4" />She stood and kissed me. It was a long, soulful kiss that made my dick bounce more and my toes tingle. "Are you going to fuck me now, or eat my very wet pussy?"



"Do you have a preference?" I asked as I turned her back to her bed and gently pushed her down.



"Fuck me, please." She answered as she lay on the bed and spread her legs. "I want you to fuck me like you love me and never want to let me go."



That first time was like the kiss she planted on the tip of my dick. It was gentle and tender, even the last few seconds before we both exploded. We both tried to make it last, but mother nature knew best and when Pat exploded, her hips shot straight into the air pushing my whole body up with them. She stayed there with her whole body trembling and her eyes rolled upward. Her hips would jerk upward every couple of seconds like she was having mini orgasms. When she seemed to relax, I plunged into her several times and I exploded and she screamed.



"I can feel it. I can feel your cum in me. More. Give me more. Oh, God, it's hot. It's burning my insides. Don't stop. Cum for me, Mike, please cum more for me."



I thought I was out of cum, but each time she asked for more, there it was.



I spent the night in her bed and in the morning we were clinging to each other. I hadn't opened my eyes, but I remembered where I was. She must have thought I was still asleep when she whispered, almost to herself, "Please, God, let this be forever."



Our lives went on. Pat moved in with me in my little house, my first family was doing well. Bertie earned her Master's Degree and moved a couple of hundred miles away to take a job. Bobby graduated and started working in a bank and it seems like Mom and David have worked things out.



My second family is doing well. Marian has started dating the manager of the bank Bobby works in and the three K's as I call them, Kenneth, Kelly, and Katie, take every opportunity to remind me that they told me Pat and I would be perfect for each other. The Senator stays in Washington coming back only for meetings and fund raisers. He always sees the three K's, but he and I still have never met. He stays in the best motel in town when he comes. Occasionally there are pictures of him with various and assorted women and he seems to not extol the virtues of faithfulness in marriage any more.



I was sitting at my workbench one day when two men wearing suits came in. I stood and went to the counter. Gretchen, as she always did, followed me over there. "May I help you gentlemen?" They introduced themselves and showed ID indicating they were members of the Secret Service.



One of them took a small box covered in really fine leather out of his pocket. He opened it and took out a watch. "This is a very old and valuable family heirloom. It has not worked in a very long time, possibly thirty years. The owner has decided to have it repaired so she can wear it. She asked around and nobody knew anyone they would trust to work on it until Senator Franklin told her his son was the best watchmaker around and could repair it, so here it is. It must be locked in a safe whenever you aren't working on it and you can't tell anybody you have it.



"We cannot overemphasize the value of the watch. If you don't think you can handle it, tell us now. There is no room for mistakes."



I picked it up and looked at it. I had seen and repaired one very similar to it my last month in school. The master instructor entrusted it to me.



He handed me his card. "Call me direct when it's finished and we will pick it up."



"Is there a time limit?"



"She would like to have it by Christmas. Will that work?"



That was two months away. "Of course."



"Good. We'll wait for your call."



I was still holding the watch as I watched them leave.



It took most of a month to finish the watch because I had to order parts from Switzerland. The same day the two men came for the watch, I received an invitation in the mail. It seems Senator Harold Franklin was having a Christmas Party for his local office staff and a few select friends. There was an RSVP. I filled it out and put it in the mail.



The next dinner at Marian's was, as usual, a great time. Near the end of the evening, the three K's cornered me. Ken spoke. "Our father is having a Christmas party and we know he sent you an invitation because he asked us if he should. Are you going?" I looked around at the six eyes looking directly at me. I thought I could see hope in them.



"I am. It's about time." They all hugged me, even Marian did when she found out what the excitement was about. She echoed my statement. "It's about time."



"I don't guarantee any great breakthroughs, you know, but I'll give it a try." I told them.



It was a formal party. I bought a tux and Pat, who had been to these things before, bought a new dress. It was a tight red number that accentuated every beautiful line on her perfect body. We arrived and a valet parked my car. There was a receiving line as soon as we walked in so meeting him was unavoidable.



Pat was in front of me. She, of course knew him because she had been a friend of the family most of her life and was as calm as could be while I had a heavy feeling in my stomach. I'd have been willing to bet that she never thought she would have to introduce an adult man to his father.



"Hi. Pat. It's good to see you again." He said as he hugged her.



"Thank you Senator." She turned to me. "And this is my boyfriend, Michael Burnett." She, of course, knew the situation between the Senator and me and had probably rehearsed my introduction to him.



We were both slow to stick out our hands for the shake, but we did. Our eyes never left each other like two fighters sizing each other up while the referee gave them instructions in the ring.



"Finally," he said.



"Finally," I said.



Pat and I spent most of our time with the three K's. They knew almost everybody there and they introduced me as their brother to anyone who would stand still long enough to listen. We were all in a group, them with their spouses and Pat and I, when the Senator joined us. He talked mostly to them, but I never once felt he was ignoring me and he would occasionally direct a comment or question to me. I know his political experience taught him to talk to people so I took that into consideration.



In all honesty, I enjoyed the evening and when it was time to leave, I sought out the Senator. "We have to leave," I said indicating Pat, "but I want to thank you for inviting us and thank you also for the watch recommendation."



We shook hands again.



"It worked out pretty well," he smiled. "If you watch them on TV New Year's Eve, you will see her wearing it.



He hugged Pat and we left.



At home that night, I noticed something I had not noticed before. Linda had told me Gretchen was fickle, now I believed it. She hung around Pat more than she did me. I smiled.



Senator Franklin included me in his visits home and things got better between us. My relationship with my first family was just like it was growing up. We were a family and they loved Pat. When Pat and I married, my brother Bobby was my Best Man and my sister Katie was Pat's Matron of Honor.



My watch business kept growing due in large part to watches I received from the Washington area.

