Aye, I am a Fairy

by Dani Haviland

  Before James had popped into her life, she had no acknowledged family. She was a hard-working woman who had earned the respect of others in the small business community, speaking out for the rights of the little man. She deserved an exit with dignity—at least, a retirement at the time of her own choosing—not one that was forced upon her by being incapacitated by a three day beating. Yup, a son and daughter-in-law with lots of grandchildren would be good for her. Maybe she would finally be able to enjoy a family life.

  Billy flashed his badge at the nurse behind the desk and walked towards Bibb’s room. No one was posted outside the door, but he did notice Officer Rourke standing next to the snack machine across the hall, watching him as he neared the room. He nodded in tacit salute, then entered.

  Bibb was fully reclined with her eyes closed. He didn’t know if she was asleep or had become comatose. Hopefully she was just resting. He pulled the brown one-piece molded plastic chair to the side of her bed and gently placed his left hand on her elbow, one of the few areas on her arm not bandaged or bruised.

  James had said ‘just talk to her,’ so that’s what he’d do. He never had trouble finding words, and this shouldn’t be any different. Yeah, well, he already knew it would be. He wasn’t here to interrogate, or to tease, kid, or make jokes. Gee, how did he come up so short in conversation skills? Duh! He was raised in an orphanage. A quick fist or a quick wit was how he survived those first seventeen years.

  The gift of gab wasn’t needed in the next three acts of his life, either. In the first act—three short years in Uncle Sam’s army—he hadn’t been asked, so didn’t tell anyone much about anything. Then two years in the police academy—conversation was dissuaded there, too.

  Finally, act three, he became a cop and got on the fast track to becoming a detective. He was the ‘golden boy’ of the Greensboro police department. He had an analytical mind, and even as a rookie had been able to solve many cases that had stumped others using the same evidence available. But it was his prime interrogation skills that helped him to quickly rise in the ranks of the department. He was good at tricking the suspects into giving up information that many times ultimately led to the coveted case-closed status.

  It was all so easy except for that one slippery thief. That case had really boggled him and everyone else in the department for years.

  Billy patted Bibb’s arm in recall. That cold case reminded him of when he had first met Leah, Bibb’s soon to be daughter-in-law. She was new to the apartment complex and didn’t know how to light the barbeque grill. She hadn’t known that the old black metal-framed barbeque units near the pool were just receptacles—she would have to bring her own briquettes and lighter. She felt so stupid, she said. Where she was from, the grills always had propane bottles and an electronic clicker to ignite the fire. He brought over a bag of charcoal bricks and a couple of skewers of chopped vegetables. They shared her big steak, his kabobs, and good conversation.

  She was interested in his stories about police work. He mentioned his frustration with that one slippery case. She said she had read about it in the paper, but couldn’t figure out why they didn’t just check the mobile dry cleaning services. All of the victims involved had higher-end jobs, she said. Didn’t all lawyers, bankers, and stock brokers wear suits? Well, yes, he replied; what did that have to do with it? Well, check out their dry cleaners and see if they happened to have access to the houses. If they picked up the laundry at the homes, well, then it was pretty simple. They could walk in and take whatever they wanted at whatever time, as long as the item wasn’t going to be noticed as missing right away.

  After that, he really enjoyed talking with her about cases that had him stumped. He even tested her a few times on cases that had already been solved. She hit all but one. When she came up with a different culprit, he went back and double-checked the file. He asked to speak with the admitted felon one more time. Well, it turned out that the man was a schizophrenic and had been—and still was—off his meds. He’d admit to anything and actually had kept admitting to everything. The judge looked into it and said his confession was inadmissible because of the situation. He reopened the case and found that it was the man’s brother who was the guilty party. The innocent brother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital where they got him back on track, and the evil brother was now doing 15-20 years.

  Billy knew to listen to Leah’s gut feelings. She was always right, whether it be that the phone was going to ring and so-and-so was calling, or if the lottery ticket he had just bought was a winner or a dud. She had also kept him away from that creepy intern, Terry Andrews. He couldn’t thank her enough for that, although he had tried. She must have been out of it this morning, or she would have recognized him. No, she had never seen him—just talked to him on the phone that one time. Well, one time was usually enough for her, thank You, Lord.

  Bibb was starting to rouse. “Hi, honey, I’m here,” he said. He picked up her left hand, found a spot that wasn’t covered in gauze or tape, and kissed it lightly. “It’s going to be okay now. Don’t worry about a thing. James is here, too. He’ll be in to see you in a bit. He has Leah with him, and they’re going to get married. Now, you’ve got to get better soon, so you can be in the ceremony, too, okay?”

  “Marty? Oh, Marty, thank you for coming back! I missed you so much. I…I…I have to tell you something. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I have to tell you before I die.” Bibb’s eyes were swollen closed, but tears were dribbling out the side.

  “But you’re not going to die, at least not now,” Billy said urgently. He certainly didn’t want to be hearing any deathbed confessions because, well, he didn’t want her to die. Besides, he wasn’t Marty—whoever that was.

  “Please, just let me get this out,” she insisted. “Marty, I made a big mistake—a huge mistake. The first time we met… Well, you know how it was. Anyhow, I got pregnant. I didn’t want to tell you. You had gone back to England, and I never thought I’d see you again. I loved you, but didn’t think you loved me. I certainly wasn’t going to tell you that you had a love child, and that you should come take care of both of us. I wanted you, but didn’t want you to have me out of guilt. I was silly enough to think that I should be enough for you.”

  The pain of her story was making her voice waver, but he didn’t dare interrupt her. She licked her lips and continued. “Well, I didn’t think I could do it by myself—getting the mill going and raising a child.”

  She twisted her shoulders, trying to get comfortable. She cleared her throat, her battered face still able to show the conviction she was known for. She spoke plainly now, like she was reading a story from a novel, without personal attachment.

  “He was born on the Fourth of July, 1984. I had him at the mill in my little apartment upstairs. I lived alone and never let on to anyone that I was pregnant. I read everything I could about home births at the library. And, maybe you’ll be proud of me for this and maybe not, but I delivered him all by myself.”

  Her tone changed suddenly to maternal pride, “The little boy was perfect. Well, almost perfect. He had a little port wine stain birthmark on his abdomen, just below his little umbilicus.” Her finger made a little circle, like she was tracing the mark. “I cleaned him up, tied off his cord, wrapped him in a fresh pink towel—I thought I was having a girl, you see—then took him to the emergency room of the hospital in Winston-Salem. They took him and told me they’d get him to an orphanage where they were sure he’d find a good home.”

  She bit her lip and started to cry silently, lonely tears trailing down her cheeks, uncomforted by sobs or hiccups. “I never saw him again.”

  She sniffed back the pain of the loss of her son and continued. “I never thought that I would see you again, either. But then two months later, you called.” Her face brightened in recollection. “Then you came back to visit and it was love and passion all over again. Of course, you stayed with me for those six wonderful months. You were right on top of when I had my periods, to
o, you rascal. Well, I think you got me pregnant on purpose that time. I could have hidden the pregnancy from you, but you were so happy about the possibility that I admitted I was going to have a baby. You confided in me that you always wanted another child, that Bruce wasn’t going to be able—or willing, rather—to produce an heir and so… Well, I wanted you to be happy, and if this would help insure the Melbourne dynasty, so be it. You promised to visit every year, and you did come out as often as you could, I’m sure, but… Well, I never could figure out how to bring up the subject of your first child, your first child with me. So, if I die today, at least I’ve told you. You have another son out there somewhere.”

  Billy was ashen. He had been rubbing Bibb’s fingers throughout her little exposé on her wild younger life, but stopped when she mentioned the birth date. When she told of the birthmark, he grabbed the garbage can with his free hand and leaned over it. He had a Leah moment, but managed to keep the breakfast omelet and half pint of milk in him.

  “Well, say something, Marty” she beseeched softly.

  What could he say? “Um, I’m not Marty. Do you want to hear about my life at the orphanage in Winston-Salem, though?”

  Bibb hadn’t heard him. She had fallen back to sleep. He placed her hand by her side and looked long and hard into that face. He had always wondered what his mother and father looked like. Well, now he knew what his mother looked like today in the hospital. He had seen pictures of her and always admired her strength in standing up to the land developers. Hmm, he just remembered telling James that she must have been good-looking when she was younger. Even if he hadn’t known that she was his mother, she had made a good impression on him.

  Shit! James! He and James had the same mother. Duh! And the same father, too! Crap! He wanted to—no, had to—talk to him right now.

  He gave Bibb—his mother, he reflected with pride—a long, soft kiss on the forehead, and said, “Hey, get better, Mom. I love you, okay?” He blotted her tears, then wiped away the twin wet drops that had leaked out of his own eyes, and left the room with resolve.

  He saw James walking down the hallway toward him, pushing Leah in a wheelchair. Leah saw him and blurted out, “Billy, before you say anything, it’s hospital policy that I leave in a wheelchair. But I don’t want to leave until I can talk to Bibb, or at least see her.” James started to push the chair into the room, but Billy blocked his entrance.

  “Not yet, she just fell asleep. Let’s go over to the chapel. I have to ask you a couple of questions,” Billy swallowed hard, “James.” He had wanted to say brother, but overrode the temptation.

  James rolled Leah next to the oversized wood-trimmed blue vinyl chair. He sat down next to her, glad that he had on long pants. Those plastic seat coverings didn’t go well with bare skin, sticking to flesh no matter how hot or cold it was.

  “So what’s going on, brother?” James asked with a grin. He had thought of Billy as a brother in the confrontation earlier with the obnoxious intern, and that thought was still fresh and warm in his memory.

  Billy didn’t want to sit down, but also didn’t want to lord over his two friends. He blanched at the idea. He probably was an English lord by birth then, too, just like James…or even more so since he was the elder. But he was getting ahead of himself. He took a deep calming breath, but the words wouldn’t form. He tried again with the same result.

  “Sit down,” James said. Something had obviously upset his friend. “What just happened? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost and… Oh, my God, Bibb is okay, isn’t she?”

  Billy nodded his head. “Who is Marty?” he asked, finally finding an opening for their conversation.

  “My father who, until I met Bibb, I thought was my grandfather. Why?”

  “Close your eyes,” Billy said. James and Leah both closed their eyes. “No, just James. I don’t think it makes a difference if you do or don’t, Leah. Okay now, James, tell me if this sounds like someone you know. ‘This is my grandson, James Ignatius Melbourne,’” Billy said, trying to mimic James’s British accent.

  “Wow! You sound just like Marty. I mean my father. It was getting confusing, so Leah and I just call my biological father, Marty and my biological brother, Bruce. How’d you know what he sounded like?”

  “I didn’t. Bibb thought that I was Marty. She just gave what she thought was a deathbed confession. Oh, shit. I mean, oh, crap, I mean…”

  Leah shook her head and explained incredulously, “Billy’s your brother, James. Your real—honest to goodness, same mother and father—brother. Wow is right!”

  “What?” James yelped in shock. He panted a couple of times, trying to compose himself, but was lost. He apologized, “I mean, if I was going to find out that anyone was a long lost brother, I’d want it to be you, but how…how can that be?”

  “Well, it appears that Marty, our father, visited North Carolina the year before you were conceived. Bibb got pregnant, gave the baby—me—up for adoption, and never said anything to anyone about it. I mean, really, anyone. She said she delivered the baby herself in her little apartment, then drove to Winston-Salem where she gave the baby to the hospital. They said they would take the baby to an orphanage where he would be adopted out. Except that there was no adoption.”

  “But…but,” James stammered.

  Billy answered the unspoken question. “What are the odds that the baby she described would have the same birthdate, arrive at the same hospital, and have the same birthmark as me, huh?” Billy pulled up his shirt and scooted his pants down enough to show the birthmark. “It doesn’t take a detective to figure that one out. Are you…are you upset?” he asked—James didn’t look too good.

  James leaned over and set his elbows on his knees, then his head in his hands. His fingers were splayed across his face to hide any indication of the mood he was in.

  “Here.” Leah offered him a plastic bag-lined trash can with a couple of empty coffee cups and paper towels in the bottom. “Just in case.”

  “Now are you okay, Billy,” she asked, peering deep into his eyes. “Do I need to take you to the emergency room?”

  James gave an involuntary cough, snorting at her little joke. He shook his head in his hands then rose up, facing Billy first then Leah. “You know, I came here on a lark after a rotten marriage. I met a wonderful young woman who I knew…really I did,” he said, looking deep into Leah’s eyes, “knew was going to be in my life for a long time. I didn’t know I would want her to be with me forever, but anyhow. Damn! I can’t focus! Did I ever tell you I had ADD? No, probably not. Please, just bear with me, I’ll get there. I’m a little muddled right now. But you are, too, aren’t you?” he looked hard at Billy, “Brother Billy.”

  “You got that right. Go ahead with your story,” Billy grinned, “baby brother.”

  Leah shook her head and smiled. Her eyes were misting, and it wasn’t from any physical pain or discomfort. She was getting overwhelmed emotionally, but it felt good letting the moisture build. These were happy saline drops forming now.

  “So, I’ll try to make this quick,” James said curtly. He took a deep breath, then started rambling again, pausing to take a quick breath between thoughts before continuing his dissertations.

  “I met the girl of my dreams, found out that I had a living mother, that the South American Indian mother who I thought had died in childbirth was a myth.” James was still blabbering, and now added hand gestures to enhance his story. “That my grandfather was really my father, that my father was really my globetrotting gay brother who cared for no one but himself… Well, the last part of that I already knew—he was selfish and didn’t care if that was a secret or not. And then, there were the assaults, and arsons, and meeting a best friend… You see, I can’t say new best friend since I never had a best friend, any best friend before… Anyway, my new best friend of the male persuasion, because the best friend of the female persuasion is my fiancée, another assault, and then I find out that my best male friend is really my brother. Phew!”r />
  “So, does that mean he’s going to get recognized, I mean by the Melbourne family?” Leah asked.

  “Well, Marty…Dad,” he added with a grin to Billy, “is the only other Melbourne around, and well, he really isn’t around right now. That one, dear big brother, you’ll have to accept as a mystery not to be solved right away, okay?”

  “Okay by me. I went from having no relatives for nearly thirty years, to having two new ones in the last thirty minutes. Shall we go check and see how Mom is doing?”

  “Okay,” James said, “just a peek for me. Leah wants to see Mom, too, and I don’t want to wear her out. We’re only supposed to go in one at a time, but maybe they’ll allow both of us. The worst they can do is kick one of us out.”

  **44 The Family Connection

  August 13, 2013, 6:00 PM

  Billy’s apartment

  James pushed his plate away from the edge of the table. He’d offer to help with the dishes later. Right now, it was quality time with his family.

  “That was great steak, Billy. Where’d you learn to do such a mean barbeque?” James teased, turning on a little western accent for the occasion.

  “Why, didn’t you hear, little brother,” Billy replied in kind, sounding like a cross between Johnny Cash and John Wayne, “I’m an expert at grilling…”

  “Right, professional interrogator,” Leah deadpanned. “Hey, where’d Peter go in such a hurry? I thought you two were a couple.”

  Billy actually blushed at her remark, and she didn’t let it go unnoticed. James looked over to see what the pause in conversation was all about. Those two were usually trading quips at machine gun pace.