Revenge or Justice

Hi All,

This is a different story to most of mine so far. I have flirted with the BTB genre before however it's not something I'm always comfortable with. Anyway I hope you give it a go.

A big thanks to my Hawaiian friend John for his tireless work making some sense of my mangled grammar and spelling. Aloha big guy.

Cheers

CharlieB4

*****

The rain tumbled down as the dark grey clouds above unloaded their burden on the cathedral. Tom sat in the car waiting, his wife and their two children sat quietly beside him. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes. He stared out the tinted window again at the crowd milling around the front entrance. It was taking longer to clear than normal as people shook and folded their umbrellas before entering.

His father's funeral wasn't due to start for another ten minutes so there was still plenty of time. Maybe the television cameras would be gone by then he hoped. It was hard to see why they were even there. Byron Cameron had been a very successful business man but his death from cancer at age seventy one was hardly newsworthy. While he gave lots of money to charities and other good causes he always did it with the stipulation he remained anonymous.

Maybe it warranted twenty seconds on the local channel but why was one of the networks there? A little voice inside Tom's head was telling him a reason for it to be there. He tried his best to ignore it, surely she wouldn't make a scene today.

"Tom? There's only five minutes till it starts. I think we should go in now." Heather said touching his arm lightly.

He turned and looked at his wife smiling cautiously at him. "Yes, we best get it over with. The rain has slowed down now anyway."

Tom opened the door and got out, after adjusting his heavy coat he opened an umbrella and held it while Heather, James and Marita got out. They made their way to the two large doors, the crowd of latecomers and sticky beaks parting like the Red Sea before them. Tom recognized a few faces and gave small nods to acknowledge their mumbled words of condolence. The funeral director greeted them and ushered them to the front pew.

Tom's sister, Kate, was already seated with her husband and daughter. She stood up and they embraced before sitting down beside each other. Heather sat on the other side with the children. Tom looked up and studied the timber coffin covered in the flag and wreaths of flowers. The tears begin to swell in his eyes as the finality of it all became apparent. One week ago he had sat by his father's bedside holding his cool withered hand as he slipped away, but today was the last goodbye.

Heather took his hand and squeezed it, offering her support. She was the angel that had caught him all several years ago when his life was in free fall. Once again she was his rock, propping him up as the waves of life crashed into him.

The priest came out and after a quick inspection gave the nod down the aisle to the funeral director that everything was ready. Just then a murmur went around the congregation and some hushed voices expressed surprise. Heads turned as a commotion could be heard coming from the entrance doors. A shrill female voice floated out above the others and my worst fears were realized.

"... But they're his grandsons. They should be up in the front!"

Tom turned around to see a stylishly dressed woman, Melanie, his first wife, arguing with the funeral director as he tried to usher her to a seat. Two young men in smart suits stood behind her with smirks on their faces as the funeral director tried to quietly defuse the situation. Heather leaned close to me and whispered in my ear.

"I'll go up the back and she can sit here."

"No!" Tom hissed fiercely, "I don't want to give her the satisfaction."

Tom stood and strode back down the aisle, many heads turned and eyes followed him as he made his way towards the trouble. Melanie was looking the other way but the two men on the other side of her could see Tom coming and their grins vanished.

Grabbing Melanie's elbow tightly Tom whispered in her ear, "not today Melanie, for god's sake! Just sit down and shut up, you're not the fucking star today."

He expected an angry rebuke, instead she turned around and gave her "butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" smile.

"Tom darling," she may have been smiling but her voice dripped venom. "So sorry we're late but somebody neglect to tell us what time the service was. In fact I didn't even know he was dead until yesterday."

Tom could feel the eyes of everybody on him, drilling into his back as he fought to maintain control.

"Could you please sit down Melanie, the service is about to start."

"Well, seeing you asked so nicely." She moved to follow the usher's directions but stopped and after a dramatic pause hit him below the belt. "Aren't you going to say hello to your sons?"

A couple of people gasped close by, Tom turned and walked away, his face and neck flushed red with rage and embarrassment. As he sat down in the front pew again Heather gave his hand another squeeze. The music started and everybody stood as two altar servers, the bishop and two other priests walked to the altar.

After the initial formalities Kate got up to deliver the first part of the eulogy. She outlined his early life; while Tom's father was a self-made man he did have a privileged upbringing. His father, Tom's grandfather, had made money in shipping, shipping booze into the US during prohibition. Unlike some of his contemporaries the old man made the transition to a more legitimate business after prohibition ended without problems so Tom's dad went to the best schools and university.

He worked with his father for a few years before he left to set out on his own. He moved into stockbroking much to his father's disgust. Tom's grandfather had gone into shipbuilding during the war and regarded stockbrokers and bankers as parasites on the economy. Tom's father had always said he would rather spend his time making money and left building things to others.

As Kate spoke Tom thought about how his father's relationship with his grandfather mirrored his own with his dad. Upon leaving university Tom had joined the family business but soon became disillusioned with the soulless pursuit of money. Unlike his grandfather Tom's passion hadn't been building ships or buildings, rather he wanted to grow things. As a child at the family country estate he would spend hours in the garden.

The end of Tom's first marriage had been the catalyst for change. His father's anger was tempered somewhat by the fact Kate had joined the firm and was showing more flair for the business than Tom ever would. With the advantage of the family money Tom bought a vineyard in the Napa Valley. Five years later with a degree in wine science and viticulture and sparkling new winery on site he rode the wine boom. Swiftly building a reputation for premium quality wine, Tom became highly influential in the expansion of the U.S. wine market.

The end of Tom's estrangement from his father occurred six years ago. Out of the blue Byron turned up in Napa on a summer afternoon. It was awkward for both of them but they sat down together. Brian told Tom he'd been diagnosed with cancer. Tom thought that was the reason for the visit, however Byron had a request for Tom.

"Tom, now I've got an end date on my life it's been making me think about my legacy."

"Can't you buy that too?" Tom snapped and immediately regretted it when he saw the hurt on his father's face.

"Alright, I asked for that." Byron reached into his coat pocket and bought out a folded piece of paper. "I read about this last year and it's something I'm interested in and it's ... it's something that maybe we could do together."

Tom was astounded. He took the paper from his father and scanned through it.

"You want us to make whisky together?"

"Yes, I'm stepping aside and Kate's taking over the firm. I'll supply the financing but you get a fifty percent stake in the project." Byron's eyes were bright with excitement.

"Hang on Dad, I make wine. I know nothing about whiskey, I rarely even drink the stuff."

Byron paused and studied his son's face.

"Tom, I know I haven't been the best father, but I've followed your progress here and I couldn't be more proud of you and what you have achieved. I know you can do this." He rubbed his hand over his face hiding the tears in his eyes. "It won't make up for the years we lost but I'd love to be a bigger part of your family's life in the time I have left."

Tom remembered the conflicting emotions and turmoil he felt at that moment. He'd sat in his chair holding the paper as his father drove away. Heather had come out of the cellar door and she'd stood behind him with her hands upon his shoulders and watched the car disappear into the distance.

Ironically Tom was awakened from his daydream by Heather's hand on his leg, "your turn."

He looked up to see Kate walking back from the pulpit, her speech over. Standing up he gave Kate a hug as he went past her then walked up for his turn to deliver his part of the eulogy. Kate had covered most of the aspects of their father's life. It was left to Tom to tell of the personal journey he and his father had taken in the past six years.

He briefly touched on their difficulties before describing the joy of rediscovering a relationship with his father. The eulogy ended when he spoke of his father's pride when just six months before they had stood on the podium at World Whisky awards in London and received a double gold medal for the four year aged single malt whisky. No small achievement especially considering they had decided to base their operations in one of the new world outposts for whisky making: Tasmania, Australia. The tears were flowing down his face when as he walked back he placed a bottle of their Cameron Distillery whisky on the coffin. It was a special release of the latest single malt to be bottled, the Byron range.

The rest of the service was a blur of songs and readings, it was a blessed relief when the pallbearers picked up the casket and started carrying it out of the church. Kate and Tom followed with partners and children. As he walked past the row of seats where Melanie sat he saw her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

Outside Tom wanted to jump straight into the car with his family and head to the airport to get back to Australia. However he knew what was expected so they stayed and accepted the handshakes and embraces of family and friends.

The local media had left but the network OB van was still parked across the road. This puzzled Tom until he saw the back door open and a cameraman and sound technician jump out and hurry across the road. They scurried past the crowd that had formed around the family and pointed the camera towards the doors. On cue a grieving Melanie came into view being supported by her sons.

Tom watched the performance with disgust, his displeasure etched on his face, until Heather gripped his arm and alerted him to the fact the camera was now pointed at him. He became even more annoyed now at the invasion of this solemn occasion. That was it for Tom. He hustled his wife and children into the car and made his way to the wake. This was a closed affair so he felt safer, he mingled with uncles and cousins and actually found he was enjoying himself, until across the crowded room he saw Melanie in heated conversation with his sister. By the time Tom made it through the throng to the other side Melanie was gone.

"What was that about?" He quizzed Kate.

"She wanted to know when we were reading Dad's will."

"What's it got to do with her?"

"Don't worry, I told her she wouldn't be required to attend."

"Is that why she was angry?"

"Yes, I think so but ... she almost seemed pleased that she wasn't included."

She was up to something Tom was sure of it. He didn't know what but he was guessed they would find out soon enough.

The reading of the will was in fact the next day. It was a formality, really, as Byron had already split his assets between his two children. There were some special bequests to some long-serving staff and also to several charities but that was it.

As they were back in the U.S. Heather wanted to spend some time with her family, so they travelled to California. The next week they were packing to go back to Tasmania when Tom's phone jangled in his pocket. It was Kate.

"We have a problem."

"Melanie?" He guessed.

"Yes, we put the advertisement in the paper asking for any creditors to contact the lawyers if they had an outstanding claim against Dad and it came the next day." She explained.

"Why did you do that?"

"It's a legal requirement before you can finalize an estate. Anyway, we received a notice of intention to challenge the will from Melanie's lawyers on behalf of her sons."

"The bitch," Tom muttered.

"Well they are Dad's grandsons."

"It was part of the divorce settlement. No further contact, correspondence or cash." He argued.

"That applies to Melanie not to your sons."

The word "your" caused Tom to gag.

"Are you okay?" Kate asked.

"Yes, so what's next?"

"They wanted a meeting so it's organized for next Tuesday in our offices at 2 p.m. Judges like the parties to have tried to negotiate before it gets to court. Can you be here?"

Tom was silent as he thought about it. Heather would like to stay longer so a few more days wouldn't hurt.

"Yes, I'll be there. What's the meeting for?"

"They will be hoping for a settlement, can you can be here on Monday? We can discuss a figure..."

"Bugger that," Tom butted in using the Australian vernacular to display my displeasure. "We won't give them anything."

Kate and Tom spoke for another five minutes as she tried to convince him to compromise. In the end they left the discussion till the next Monday. Once he was off the phone Tom told delighted Heather that they would be spending another week stateside. She wasn't as keen when she found out Tom would be back in New York next week. He explained the situation and Heather came down on Kate's side saying they should just give Melanie some money to go away. Trying to put it out of his mind, he stayed in California with Heather and the children. That was mostly successful until Friday night, when Kate rang again.

"Are you near a television?" She asked.

"Yes why?" Tom replied.

"Turn it on to channel six, there's a current affairs show on that will interest you."

Tom flicked it on and it was just coming back from a commercial break. The presenter was introducing a story, behind her was a large blown up picture of a weeping Melanie at the door of the church.

"Tonight our special story is about one of our own. NBC television personality and talk show presenter Melanie Shriver has a happy smile and a quick laugh but behind that mask there is a gaping wound that haunts her to this day."

It continued on for another twenty minutes, as hatchet jobs go this was the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It was a typical tabloid type story of the evil husband with Tom painted as the lecherous fiend who abandoned his wife and two sons. Melanie was the virtuous dutiful wife forced to continue her career to support her two sons. Finally it had become too much for her to bear as her neglected sons where disinherited by their wealthy grandfather.

Tom had to begrudgingly admire the way it was put together. At the start it was all sweetness and light with bright pictures of the glamorous couple. Tom, the young stockbroker from a wealthy family and Melanie, the gorgeous television weather girl. Following that, more pictures of a young couple playing with their children. Then the tear filled interviews with Melanie and her sons explain the callous treatment at the hands of their former husband and father. Finally to top it off, the funeral pictures of a grief stricken Melanie being helped down the stairs, followed by a cut away to a close up of my angry face.

The last word was left to the presenter who let the audience know that Melanie was going for fight for her son's birthright in the courts and everybody at the network wished her well.

Tom was sitting down by the end and as it the show went to a commercial break he had to consciously unclench his jaw because his teeth were aching. Heather sat on an armchair close by, she was just staring at the screen. Tom turned off the television and slumped back with a growl.

"That's a little different to your version of events." Heather said, the raised eyebrows encouraging an explanation.

"It was fantasy held together with half-truths and outright lies."

"Did you just walk out one day and never come back?"

"Yes ... but I made sure they were provided for." Tom stammered.

"And when are you going to walk out on me?"

"Come on Heather, that's ridiculous."

"Why is it ridiculous?" Heather was on her feet. "They aren't even your children," she shouted pointing towards the room in which James and Marita were sleeping.

He dropped his head and ran his fingers through his hair before looking up into Heather's eyes again.

"Please sit down", he said. She remained on her feet. "Please."

"I'm going to tell you something that until just over a week ago only two people on this earth knew and today only one does." Tom took a deep breath and blew it out before continuing. "I'm not the father of Melanie's two children."

"What? Why am I only hearing this now?"

"Because being a cuckold for five years is not something I'm proud of." Tom said with a sigh.

"So you knew she was sleeping with somebody else?"

"No, I didn't find out until one week before I left."

Tom could see from Heather's face that she was still skeptical.

"Alright I'll explain. Melanie's second son, Tom Jr., was six months old. She was going back to work as the weather girl for the morning show on NBC. For the two previous months she had been working out like crazy to get back in shape before she went in front of the cameras again. The night before her first morning back she told me in no uncertain terms that Tom Jr. was the last child she was going to have and I was to organize a vasectomy as soon as possible. I thought she was joking but she told me there would be no sex until I was neutered. She was worried that another maternity leave could mean the end of her television career.

"I was reluctant because I was still young, but thinking our marriage was going to last a lifetime I made an appointment the next week. Dr. Nelson was surprised at my request as well but after a few questions he saw I was committed. I filled out the forms and he fitted me into his schedule at a nearby day surgery for the following Friday. On the way out the door he handed me a specimen jar and directed me to a room beside the toilets. He needed a sample of my sperm for testing so they could compare with another sample taken after.

"I did what he requested then went home to inform Melanie of what I'd organized. She was ecstatic, promising some fireworks in the bedroom when I was declared safe. The next Friday with some apprehension I was getting into the surgical gown at the day surgery when Dr. Nelson came into the room. He told me something had come up and he couldn't do the surgery today. He told me he had to talk to me again and requested I come to his surgery on Saturday morning.

"With even more apprehension I went to see the doctor the next morning. I had to call him to let me in as there was no receptionist. Once in his office I sat down and I could tell by the doctor's nervous disposition it wasn't going to be good news. He told me there was no point performing the vasectomy because I was already sterile. I was astonished, arguing I had two children, but he showed me the results from the examination of my sperm. It wasn't that the sperm count was low or that they were deformed. There just were no sperm.