Being His

by Mac Flynn

  "What in the world is going on here?" Walter demanded to know.

  Elizabeth sullenly looked away, and I shrugged. "I tripped over another rock and Elizabeth caught me. We kind of tumbled to the ground and both of us wanted to be the first one up, so we sort of fought over it."

  Walter stared me straight in the eyes and frowned. "You're terrible at lying," he commented. He looked to Elizabeth. "Do you want to lie to me, too?"

  "No, Father..." she mumbled.

  "Then what happened here?" he asked her.

  She shrugged and nodded at me. "What she said."

  He sighed and turned to Mack. "It looks like we'd better call this off."

  "No!" I cried out. I wouldn't have their fun ruined by our fighting; Steven was so looking forward to this hellish fun. "Just let me get my stuff in my bag and we can start up-"

  "We're going back to the house, Monica, and that's final," Walter firmly ordered.

  I admit that at that point I almost gave in and followed my future father-in-law's order, but he made one big mistake; he underestimated my rhino-sized stubbornness. I straightened to my full, short height and held my chins up high. "You can go back down, but I'm going to finish this, even if it kills me." I shoved my stuff back into my pack, and halfway through Nicole joined in. At the end Steven put the final item in my bag, and I hefted it over my shoulders. "I'll tumble back to the house in a few hours."

  I turned and huffed up the mountain, but stopped a few yards. I glanced over my shoulder with a sheepish grin on my face. "Anybody happen to have a map of the trail?" I asked them.

  Mack chuckled and turned to Walter. "Come on, Walt. If she wants to finish it then let's get this done."

  Walter grumbled, but beneath his gruff exterior I could see a smile of respect; I wasn't going to give up, so neither should he. "All right, but we'll have to hurry or we'll lose light." He looked to Elizabeth. "You'd better get back to the house," he advised. Without a word Elizabeth spun on her heels and went down the path. Walter looked to us, frowned and strolled through the group up the mountain. "What are you waiting for? Let's get going."

  We smiled at each other until something heavy thudded to the ground; it was Steven's dad. He'd collapsed to the dirt and his breathing was horribly ragged. "Dad!" Nicole and Steven screamed. We all rushed to his side, but Mack pushed us back.

  "Give him some room," Mack insisted. His face was grim as he checked Walter's pulse. "This isn't good. Is there a quick way to the hospital?"

  Steven nodded. "Yes, Mother made sure we could call a helicopter in case something like this happened."

  "Then let's get him down the mountain and call that helicopter," Mack suggested.

  Mack fashioned a out stretcher of our bags, and Steven and he dragged Walter down the mountain. Nicole rushed ahead to call the helicopter, and by the time we got down over the rough path it was on the lawn waiting for us. Helen met us at the bottom with her ashen and smeared with makeup, and Elizabeth at her side. Walter was placed in the machine and whisked away without family because there wasn't any room for passengers.

  Steven offered to drive everyone to the hospital, but none of the cars could fit us all. "I'll stay behind," I suggested with a smile. "Somebody needs to be around in case Doffing has a stroke."

  Steven clasped my hands and pecked my cheek with a kiss. "I'll call you when we learn something," he promised.

  "Please do," I whispered back. I'd grown fond of the old drinker.

  With a heavy heart I waved goodbye to them from the front doors, and when they were out of sight I broke down and cried. He really was a cool old fellow, and no matter how much I hated some of his family I couldn't bring myself to hate him. "Please be safe," I whispered to Walter, hoping the wind would take my message to him.

  CHAPTER 7

  I shuffled up to my room and snuggled with Mr. Perkins with my phone close at hand. I was so depressed I couldn't even joke with my cat. All I could think about was Walter's pale face and Steven trying so hard to be the leader in his family without his dad around. I looked down at my furry feline. "What do you think? Maybe if I'd just agreed to go down none of this would've happened."

  After several grueling hours of knocking myself around so much I bruised my brain, I got the call. I tossed the cat and dove for the phone, which juggled in my hands before I answered it. The name on the phone said Steven. "Steven, how is he?"

  "He'll be fine," was the greatest answer in the world. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Are you outside? It sounds like there's bad wind," he wondered.

  I laughed and wiped the tears from my eyes. "No, just Hurricane Mitsy breathing up a storm."

  "Well, Hurricane Mitsy can be relieved to hear Dad will be out in a day or two, but his hard drinking days might be over," Steven continued. I cringed; the poor fellow was reduced to sobriety. "We're going to stay here-" there was a loud noise in the background and a lot of yelling. It sounded like he stood near a bar fight.

  "What's going on back there?" I asked him.

  "Oh, that's Dad. I think the doctor's just told him he'd have to give up alcohol," Steven replied.

  I smiled. "I can't blame him. For some that's a fate worse than death."

  Steven laughed. "Well, he'll feel better when they tell him he needs to eat more lean meats."

  "It's nice to know something good's going to come out of this," I agreed. The memories of the last few hours resurfaced, along with the blame. "Listen, Steven, I'm really sorry I pressured your dad to-"

  "Wait a minute here," Steven interrupted. "You're not going to apologize for my dad doing something crazy, are you?"

  I cringed. "Well, I was the one who kind of said we should keep hiking up that mountain."

  I heard Steven walk away from the background brawl. When he next spoke his voice was firm and calm. "Now you listen here, Monica Collins. When my dad wants to do something, nobody pressures him to do it. He does it because he wants to do it. You convinced him to go up that mountain, but if he even had a doubt about climbing the trail he would have pushed us all down the hill."

  "But-"

  "But nothing," Steven insisted. "You're not to blame, and that's that. You understand?"

  I rolled my eyes. "I was going to remind you that you're not supposed to call me Monica, but yeah, I understand."

  "...Oh, right, forgot about that," he sheepishly replied. "Anyway, he's going to be all right, and we'll all be back up there in a day or two. Try to keep out of trouble."

  I glanced at the ruffled cat at my side. "I'll try, but I can't guarantee Mr. Perkins won't try to rule the world from this mountain headquarters."

  "Have him chase the light pointer. That'll keep him too busy to think of a way to take over everything," Steven suggested.

  I laughed; it felt really good to do that after everything that happened. "Will do. Give me a call if anything changes, or just because, okay?"

  "Will do," he replied.

  "Oh, and Steven?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Even knowing your crazy family, I still love you."

  Steven chuckled. "And even knowing your crazy cat, I still love you."

  "Mr. Perkins isn't crazy, he's just mentally deficient," I protested. There was another round of noise. "What was that? The doctor's tell him he had to lay off the sweets?"

  "Yep. Got to go, I hear Mom calling me."

  "Bye, Stevie," I cooed.

  "Bye, Mitsy," he countered.

  He hung up; I sighed and shook my head. "What a guy and what a family, eh, Mr. Perkins?" Mr. Perkins swished his tail and meowed, telling me he agreed. Or that he wanted food.

  Over the next twenty-four hours that was considered an in-depth conversation. I walked Mr. Perkins outside, or at least dragged him around the yard, and amused myself with riveting games of solitaire and sneaking tofu to feed to the birds. Better their lives than mine. Thus it was a great day when the family came back to the house. Don't get me wrong, Doffing was a great companion if I'd been normal, stuffy, and geriatric,
but he didn't have much of an imagination. Or humor. Or curiosity. Or a lot of things that would have made him fun to be around. Anyway, Steven drove the car up the front door, and I practically threw myself on the hood with joy. I didn't make a nice ornament, so I threw myself on Steven. "You are never leaving me again," I promised him.

  He laughed and patted me on the back. "What about when I go to the bathroom?"

  I pulled us apart and each word came out in biting stubbornness. "Never. Again."

  Steven nervously chuckled. "That much fun here, huh?" I leaned in with a hideous glare on my face, and he spun on his heels turned to help his father out of the car.

  "I can help myself!" Walter insisted. He whacked their hands away like a rock star trying to fend off rabid fans. "It's only a few steps!"

  "And that's a few too many for you to do so alone, dear," Helen argued.

  They dragged him kicking and thrashing inside and into the living room, where he was plopped onto the couch. I stood off to the side and watched the poor fellow be surrounded by his loved ones. It was a touching sight except for the hideous scowl on Walter's face and the long shadows of his family standing over him. Helen seated herself beside him and clasped his hands in hers. "Now dear, you know you have to take it easy. No stressful situations, no strenuous exercises, and no drinking." She glanced over to me. "And no unwanted surprises." That cut as deep as a dull butter knife.

  "You may as well kill me now," he grumbled.

  She gave him a good rap on the head. "I may very well do that if you don't behave and stop talking such nonsense."

  Steven patted her shoulders. "Easy there, Mom. He just got out of the hospital, remember?"

  "It's he who isn't remembering," she protested.

  "Well, how about you plan a nice welcome home dinner for him and we'll make sure he behaves himself?" Steven suggested.

  Helen squirmed, but finally relented. "Oh, very well, but make sure he doesn't so much as leave this couch cushion. Elizabeth, would you come help me?"

  "I'd be glad to," replied the perfect daughter.

  They left and that gave Walter a breather. "She may well be the death of me through boredom, her and those doctors," he growled. He tried to stand but Steven pushed him back down. Walter's expression was one of betrayal. "Now my own son wishes to challenge me?"

  "He probably has intents towards your throne," I spoke up. Steven shot me a glare that withered the flowers in the vase in front where I stood on the opposite side of the coffee table.

  Walter chuckled. "He wouldn't be glad to have the financial headache," he countered.

  Nicole plopped herself down beside her father. "Mom said for you not to leave the couch cushion, so we'll stay here and make sure you're not bored."

  "That's exactly what I'm afraid of..." he murmured.

  Steven patted him on the shoulder, stood and took me by the arm. "I've got something I want to talk to you about," he informed me. His tone was serious, and I followed him with my own ticker ticking away at a great speed. He guided me upstairs and to my bedroom where he sat me down on the bed. I felt like I was watching a tennis match as Steven paced the floor in front of me.

  "Do you mind if I serve first?" I asked him.

  That shook him from his distracting thoughts. "What?"

  I smiled. "You're worried about something. What is it?"

  He frowned. "To tell you the truth, Mom asked if you were going to be leaving soon."

  "Just me?" I asked him, and he nodded. "And what did you tell her?"

  "It wouldn't be just you leaving," he replied. My heart skipped like a giddy schoolgirl down a country lane after school's been let out for the summer. "But I have to warn you she thinks you brought on Dad's stroke." I opened my mouth and he held up a hand. "Now don't go telling me it is."

  I frowned at him. "I was about to tell you that I kind of already noticed. Remember that whole sixth sense thing?"

  Steven stared at me blankly. "The one with the breasts?"

  I rolled my eyes. "It's nice to know you were paying attention to some of it."

  He sheepishly grinned and shrugged. "At least it was the important part," he protested.

  I grabbed a pillow from the bed and proceeded to beat him to within an inch of the pillow's life. My victim, unfortunately, took the blows in stride, and even stole the pillow from me. "That's mine, now give it back!" I huffed.

  He jumped off the bed and hid it behind his back. "I don't think you can handle the responsibility of having a pillow," he countered.

  I sprang after him and knocked him down to the ground; the pillow cushioned his fall, which was a good thing because he cushioned mine. His eyes bulged and he let out a puff of air in my face that made me wrinkle my nose. I waved my hand in front of my face. "Do you know what breath mints are?" I scolded him.

  "Sure, those things you feed to the dog," he mischievously replied. He tried to sit up, but I still lay on his chest. "Um, mind letting me up?"

  I turned my nose up at him and sniffed. "Yes, yes I would," I told him in my best snooty accent. I laughed at his scowl and leaned down to plant a kiss on his nose. "Besides, I rather like being on top." Then came that dreadful knocking on my chamber door, and I shot the wood a searing glance; somehow it failed to combust. "I swear to God the next person who knocks is getting their hands broken..." I grumbled.

  I rolled off Steven and waited for him to look as civilized as he ever did before I opened the door. Neither of us expected to see Elizabeth on the other side, but there she stood. "Wrong room?" I asked her. She couldn't want to see me.

  "I wanted to speak with you for a moment," she replied. Apparently she could want to see me. Elizabeth glanced past me at Steven. "Alone." This was getting serious.

  "Um, sure, come on in," I invited. She stepped inside and glared at her brother.

  Steven nervously smiled and pointed to the bathroom door. "I'll just be in there taking a-"

  "Go to your room," Elizabeth ordered in her firmest, just-like-her-mother voice.

  "Yes, ma'am," Steven squeaked. He shot out of there faster than a squirrel on steroids.

  Elizabeth waited for the sound of two doors to shut, one the bathroom and the other his connecting door, before she turned to me. "I wanted to talk about the hike."

  She had to remind me of that nightmare. "Um, okay, shoot." I expected her to pull out a gun at my stupid invitation, but she pulled out a much more surprising weapon.

  Elizabeth Dunner leapt forward and wrapped her arms around me in a bone-breaking hug; well, if she could get through all my meat to reach my bones. She leaned her head on my shoulder and sobbed into it. I hesitantly patted her on the back and cringed when I felt her snot run into my shirt. "There there?" I spoke up.

  She pulled away and wiped the tears from her blurry face. "I-I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I acted," she told me.

  I almost needed my own helicopter to the hospital. Instead I gave her a blank, shocked look. "Really? Why?" I asked her.

  Elizabeth mournfully smiled and shrugged. "If we wouldn't have been fighting then maybe Father wouldn't have had his stroke."

  I smiled and shook my head; she was a few steps behind me in the grieving process. "With these things it's just a matter of time before they hit. We just happened to be fighting just before that time."

  The stubborn girl shook her head. "No, I'm sure our fight brought it on and if I hadn't been saying all those things to you then none of that would have happened."

  "Horrible things," I corrected her.

  Now it was her turn to stare dumbly at me. "Pardon?" she asked me.

  "Those were horrible things you said to me, but I get what you're trying to say now," I told her. I directed her over to the bed and sat her down; I remained standing and folded my arms across my chest. "Now listen, your dad wasn't exactly keeping good care of himself. He almost drank me under the table in the pool house, and you know that's saying something for someone my size." She nodded too eagerly. "So if we're going
to be blaming people he has some share in the blame. Agreed?"

  "But-"

  I held up a hand. "No buts, young lady, and after this I want no more mention of the size of mine or anybody else's. I know we won't ever be friends, but at least give us some room between our throats," I insisted.

  Elizabeth stood up and smiled. "All right, I'll agree to a truce on one condition."

  I narrowed my eyes; I didn't like strings attached to anything except to my birthday presents. "What's the condition?"

  "You answer one question truthfully. If I believe you're lying then you have to leave the house immediately and never come back."

  I tilted my head to one side. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

  She shrugged. "This is an extreme case."

  I sighed and nodded. "Fine, what's the question?"

  Elizabeth looked me straight in the eye and had the most serious expression on her face bordering on constipation. "Do you love my brother because of who he is, and not his wealth?"

  CHAPTER 8

  That question floored me, literally. In a flash I was on the floor laughing from the ridiculousness of the question. She stomped her foot and glared at me. "This is serious! Are you in love with who he is?"

  "What a...stupid...question," I gasped out. I let loose another cackle.

  At the sound Steven rushed through the two doors. He saw the scene in front of him, Elizabeth standing over me rolling on the ground, and put two and two together to make five. "Did you hit her?" he accused his sister.

  Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. "I certainly did not! Your foolish fiance put herself on the ground!"

  I managed to gather some air and sit up. "It's all right, Steven, she didn't do anything bad." I snorted when I remembered what she had done, sighed, and wiped away my tears. "I needed that laugh."

  Elizabeth's hands were balled into fists at her side and she fumed. "Are you going to answer my question or pay the forfeit?" she demanded to know.

  I tilted my head toward her and smiled. "I'm pretty sure that if I didn't love Steven I would have ran out of here screaming a long time ago," I pointed out.

  Elizabeth scowled, not completely satisfied by the answer, but she stomped out of the room. Steven knelt beside me and looked me over for bruises and stab wounds. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked me.