Beyond the Ordinary - Into the Wind

"I'd like you all to come to the house and let me fix you dinner before your drive back," Brianna offered.

"I have all the food I was going to prepare last night," Rhonda reminded. "Why don't I cook that."

"Deal," Brianna agreed.

Corrine again rode with Brianna. In Ron's SUV, all expressed hope that their host was not looking for another orgy because they were all too worn out. But once they reached her home, Brianna seemed as weary as the others and made no attempts to start anything other than dinner by assisting Rhonda. Thinking she was going to be cooking on the boat, Rhonda kept the meal to a simple shrimp and pasta dish, so in a short amount of time, they were all seated around the table.

Conversation was casual, mostly everyone discussing how much they enjoyed the trip but how tired they were.

About halfway through the meal, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, shit," Brianna exclaimed. "Probably a neighbor with condolences."

"Would you like me to get it?" Tim asked, nearest to the door, relatively speaking, and sensing from the tone of her voice she didn't want to be bothered.

"Oh, that would be nice. Thanks."

At the front door, Tim looked through the peephole and saw a young man. He appeared to be well-dressed and groomed, so the lawyer opened the door. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for Bret and Brianna Braxton," the well-spoken young man asked.

"May I ask what you want to see them about?"

"About being Bret's son."

As there had been no mention of children, Tim was stunned, but tried not to let it show. "Just a minute." Tim closed the door and returned to the table. All eyes were on him. "There's a young man at the door claiming to be Bret's son. Did he have a child?"

"No, he positively did not," Brianna answered firmly, rising out of her chair.

"Is it possible he did but never told you?" Corinne asked.

"Absolutely not. Bret was always completely honest. I never caught him lying and he never gave me any reason to be distrustful."

"And yet," Tim pointed out, "he never told you about his investments."

"He told me he had them," Brianna corrected, "but we never discussed them. There's a difference."

"Yes, there is," Corinne agreed. "Let's go see what this is about. It's not unusual for unknown relatives to suddenly appear after someone passes."

The three went to the front door.

"I'm Brianna," she said after opening the door again. She was taken aback for a second by the young man's handsomeness. "And you are?"

"My name is Brent Braxton. As I told this gentleman—"

"This gentleman and the lady are my attorneys," Brianna interrupted.

"Okay. I'm Bret Braxton's son."

"He never mentioned having a son," Brianna challenged.

"He didn't know about me," Brent stated. "I can explain."

"I knew you were going to say that. And why should we listen to you."

"Were you aware that Bret was previously married?" Brent asked.

"I was."

"She was my mother."

"Was?"

"She passed away a couple of weeks ago." There was sadness in his voice.

Brianna judged it to be genuine. "I'm very sorry." She and the attorneys exchanged glances, but none spoke up about Bret. "Okay. Now, you've got my attention." Brianna led them into the living room to the right of the entrance. The others were still in the dining room around the corner but could hear. Once seated, Brianna said, "Go on."

"She never wouldn't tell me who my father was," Brent went on. "She never even talked about him. The only birth certificate I ever saw had my father's name redacted. A few days after the funeral, I started going through her things. I found my original birth certificate and it showed that my father's name was Bret Braxton. I also came across their divorce decree and saw that it was finalized in this town at the shore. So, I came here, did some checking and discovered that you are the only Braxton here."

"I didn't know that," Brianna said. "Where were you living?"

"Upstate. My mother apparently moved there after the divorce."

"Do you have those papers with you?" Tim asked.

Brent handed him an envelope. Tim pulled out a couple of papers that confirmed Brent's story, at least about the birth certificate and divorce decree. He didn't look any further. Tim nodded to Brianna.

"Well, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," Brianna said somberly. "Bret passed away last week."

"Oh, no!" Brent cried. "He can't be. I finally found him!"

"I'm very sorry. We spread his ashes over the lake yesterday. It was what he wanted."

Brent nodded, but left his head hanging.

In that moment, Brianna saw familiarity, resemblance, mannerisms and characteristics that were all Bret, and suddenly she knew, he was her husband's son. She also couldn't get over how good-looking he was.

As she was coming to this realization, Tim said, "We're very sorry you've come all this way only to learn such unfortunate news. Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"I guess not." Brent stood. Sadly, he said, "Sorry to have disturbed you."

"It was no—"

"No," Brianna said, more sentimentality coming over her. "We were just sitting down to dinner. There's plenty. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh. Uh—" Brent glanced at Tim, waiting for him to override the offer. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"No imposition. I insist." Brianna led Brent into the dining room and introduced him to the others. While they made a place for him at the table, Brianna went into the kitchen to fix him a plate. The lawyers followed.

Once they were out of earshot of the dining room, Tim said, "Brianna, I urge you to be careful with Brent. Let us check him out."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Like I said," Corinne reiterated, "relatives come out of nowhere after a death. If you want to get to know him, let us check him out first. Make sure he is who he says he is."

"He's the spitting image of Bret when he was that age," Brianna told them.

"Doesn't mean his intentions are all good," Tim warned.

"Okay, well, you two do whatever you think you need to, but this poor boy just lost his mother and the father he never knew," Brianna reasoned. "I feel like I owe him something."

"I hope by something you don't mean a part of Bret's estate," Tim wanted to clarify. "No one else is named in the will. You don't owe anyone anything."

"I wasn't talking about money," Brianna said in a tone that she thought they were being preposterous. "I meant that I'm sure there's much he would like to know about his father."

"Well, I still caution you not to reveal too much."

She merely shot them a look of disbelief, shook her head and carried the plate of food to the table.

Brent ate quickly, as though fearful someone would take it away, or that he hadn't eaten in a while.

"Oh, slow down, boy," Brianna said. "No one's going to take it away. When's the last time you ate?"

"Early this morning."

"Well, there's plenty, so take your time. Have as much as you like."

"Thank you. This is very good. You're an excellent cook."

"Sorry. I can't take any credit." She gestured to Rhonda. "This lady is the chef."

"Very good, ma'am."

"Thank you," Rhonda acknowledged. "But don't ma'am me. I'm probably not much older than you. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Are you in college?"

"Just graduated a few months ago."

"What's your degree in?" Tim asked.

"Journalism."

"You have a job?"

"No," Brent answered, not seemingly bothered by all the questions. But he continued to eat while responding. "No, my mother became ill shortly after graduation, so I had to take care of her." Sadness appeared in his face with the mention of his mother.

"Okay, everyone," Brianna spoke up. "Let the boy eat in peace without being interrogated."

"It's okay, ma—" Brent looked up at her, not knowing what to call her.

"Brianna. You can call me Brianna."

"I expected it, Brianna. I mean, I know how this must seem to have me suddenly appear claiming to be Bret Braxton's son."

The others were finished with dinner, so Rhonda, Jenna and Ron started picking up the dishes, allowing Tim, Corinne and Brianna to talk to Brent.

In the kitchen, Jenna asked, "What do you guys think?"

"It certainly is a surprise," Ron said. "And Brianna appears to believe him."

"He does resemble Bret," Jenna noted.

"Brianna is attracted to Brent," Rhonda pointed out. "We all know how horny she is. And she seems to like younger guys. Remember how she was all over Mike last night."

Tim came in on the tale of that statement.

"And then to have a young man who resembles her dear departed husband—"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tim admitted. "Any thoughts on what we should do? I know we have to head back to town, but I'm hesitant to leave her alone with him."

"She's a grown woman," Jenna reminded everyone.

"Who is grieving," Tim added.

"I think they need each other," Jenna said. "And knowing her as I do, you can't push her, or she'll do the opposite of what you want. You've given her your best advice, now you have to rely on her judgment."

Brianna now entered the kitchen carrying Brent's plate and drinking glass. "I know you guys have to get going. I can clean up."

"Were really in no hurry," Tim said.

"Tim, I appreciate your concern and I promise you I won't do anything stupid. I truly believe he is who he says he is, and I think his grief is genuine. You go on and I'll call you and Corinne in the morning."

Heeding Jenna's words, Tim sighed and said, "Okay. But please be careful." He then grabbed a napkin and took Brent's glass from her. "DNA."

Brianna merely shook her head.

"You have anything like a comb or hairbrush with Bret's hair still on it?"

"The bathroom," Brianna said with a heavy sigh and a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Tim searched the pantry for a paper bag and a plastic zipper bag, then walked off.

Brianna started to hug and kiss Ron, Jenna and Rhonda.

Brent and Corinne appeared in the kitchen.

"Can I help clean up?" Brent offered.

"I was just going to show my guests out."

"I guess I should be shoving off also," Brent said.

"What are your plans?" Brianna asked him.

He shrugged. "Well, I suppose they're different now. I had hoped to meet Bret and that he would be open to listening to me. If he had, then maybe we could have gotten to know each other."

With a nod, Brianna asked, "So, what now?"

"If I had been able to spend some time with Bret, I would have returned upstate afterward to finish settling my mother's estate. Guess that's what I'll do."

Everyone migrated to the front door. On the porch, Brianna bid her sailing buddies goodbye. Once they were all in the car, Brent started to head to his car. After Ron's SUV was down the street, Brianna walked quickly to Brent's car.

"I was thinking, are you driving back tonight?"

"Nothing else to do."

"Why don't you stay here. Plenty of room. Lots to talk about."

"I don't think your lawyers would like that."

She grinned sheepishly. "That's why I waited until they left."

"Are you sure? I mean, you really don't know me."

"I know you," Brianna said with certainty. "Come with me." She led him inside to the study across from the living room and pulled out a photo album. She turned to a picture of a younger Bret.

"Wow!" Brent said in amazement. "That could be me."

"Yes. And if that's not enough, your mannerisms, voice inflections and gestures are all him. So, I know you."

"Brianna, I really would like to stay, but I can only imagine the advice your lawyers have given you; that even though I am who I say I am, doesn't mean my intentions are all honorable."

With raised eyebrows, she acknowledged, "That's almost verbatim."

"But for what it's worth, I don't want anything from you. My mother left me very well off. I don't need money. I really just want to learn who I am."

It occurred to Brianna that Brent could just be the best actor in the world, but she chose to believe he was genuine. He was Bret's son, and Bret was as honest and straightforward as the day was long. "And I'm going to help you discover yourself. Go get your things."

When he returned, she poured them wine while Brent thumbed through the album. She was still wearing short shorts and a tight-fitting t-shirt, and she could see him checking her out with sidelong glances. She felt her pussy tingle.

"What kind of man was my . . . he?

"You can call him dad."

"It feels kinda weird."

"He was a good man," Brianna said, a warm feeling coming over her. She smiled at the thought of him and to cover a tear starting to form. "He was comical, loved to joke, mostly about being old. He always played the age card. He loved to sail and had a few boats in his lifetime."

"Damn! I wished I had known him," Brent bemoaned. "He sounds like he would have been a great father."

"Yes, I think he would have."

"I really appreciate you spending this time with me. You really don't owe me anything."

Brianna patted his leg above his knee. "I really feel bad for you losing your mother and finally discovering your father only to learn that he passed also within a couple of weeks of her."

"Did he have any other living relatives?"

"No, he was an only child and his parents died years ago."

"How are you doing, Brianna?" He touched his hand to her upper arm. "This shouldn't only be about me. It was a bigger loss for you."

With a grimace, she said, "It hasn't been easy. I had my friends with me over the weekend, and they accompanied me to spread Bret's ashes. But now, I don't relish being alone. Maybe that's one reason I wanted you to stay. My friends have been a comfort and sympathetic, but it wasn't their loss and they had their own lives to get back to. I guess I thought you would share some of the loss with me."

"I know the feeling. I don't have anyone else either."

"Your mother had no other relatives?"

"Her parents passed away a few years ago also, but she wasn't very close to them. I never really knew them. She has a sister out in California or somewhere, but they didn't have a good relationship either. It was almost as though she was an outcast with her family."

"Wow."

"Can you tell me why my parents divorced?" Brent asked hesitantly.

"Well, that depends on how open-minded you are."

"Open-minded?" He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Uh, well, about sex."

"Open-minded about sex?" Brent repeated curiously. "Where is this going? Can you please just tell me."

Brianna took a deep breath. "Your dad was, uh, he was, uh . . . a voyeur. He wasn't particularly good at sex, but he did like to watch other people. Your mother learned about it and found it appalling. It was what led to them divorcing."

"Wow." Brent's surprise was obvious, but he didn't seem upset. "How did that work with you?"

"I'm very open-minded."

Brent nodded. "So, he continued to do it and you didn't mind?"

"Uh, well—"

"You can tell me, Brianna. It won't surprise me." He took a deep breath. "It's actually all starting to add up."

"How so?"

"As it turns out, my mother was a very sexual woman."

"Really?" Brianna said, completely surprised. "Bret always said she wasn't."

"Well, if you say he wasn't very good, that might explain why she wasn't . . . I don't know, very responsive to him."

"Yes, it could."

"She dated a lot of men. When I was young, I think some spent the night, but as I got older, they went out. I remember when I was little—I don't know how old, but old enough to remember—I heard talking late one night. I got up and snuck down the hall and saw my mother and some man kissing on the sofa. Their hands were all over each other. I figured I wasn't supposed to see that, so I didn't say anything. I started staying awake at night and saw other men come over from time to time."

"And this continued?"

"Yes. Of course, as I got older, I figured it out."

"Did it bother you?"

"Well, it's not like she was cheating on my dad, so it didn't bother me much. I did ask her about dating without broaching sex and she just said she needed male companionship. I read between the lines and I think she knew I had."

"Did it affect your sex life?"

Brent chuckled. "My mom always dressed to kill. I couldn't wait to see her when she went out because she looked so incredible. She also had a great body, so as I got older, I snuck to watch her get dressed. Needless to say, I—" He halted.

"You jerked off."

Brent nodded in embarrassment. "I went to college only thirty miles from home, but she insisted I stay in the dorm for the full college experience. We had a large house and I used to sneak home some nights. There was a side door I could get in without being noticed. I would watch her having sex. It was thrilling. Guess I took after dad."

"Nothing wrong with that," Brianna reassured. "You still like to watch?"

Brent merely shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't call myself a voyeur. Not like it sounds my father was. I asked earlier if you were okay with his voyeurism and we digressed."

With what he had just told her, Brianna had no more hesitancy in telling him, "He liked to watch me."

Brent thought about that for a second and deduced, "So, because he wasn't good and lost one wife as a result of it, he let you sleep with other guys so he could watch."

"You're going to be a good journalist," Brianna complimented. "Except that it wasn't because he wasn't good. In the early years of our marriage, he was—at least, good enough. As his medical issues became more prevalent, he was less able to . . . perform. Because of our 25-year age difference and my active sexual . . . libido, he felt it was unfair for me not to be able to have sex. So, he wanted to bring in another man. His only condition was that he could watch. I was hesitant and it was weird at first, but we adjusted."

"Was it always the same man?"

"Interesting question. No. He didn't want me to become too close to anyone."

Brent thought for a few minutes, then shook his head. "This is amazing. I came here hoping to meet and get to know my father. But this is not what I expected to learn about him."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to meet him and that you had to learn these things."

"I'm not. I mean I'm just glad to have learned anything. And the fact that my mother divorced him suggested that it might not all be good, so I guess I was open to anything."

"Well, then you were well-prepared." With a big grin, Brianna asked, "So, what else would you like to know?"

Brent's eyes widened. "There's more?"

"Nothing like what you've just found out."

"Actually, I think that's more than enough for one night. It's been a long day. I think I need to crash."

"Yes, it's been a hard weekend for me, too."

Brianna showed Brent to his room and retired to her own. However, as tired as she was, sleep was not easy to come by. Perhaps she was just too tired to sleep. Or maybe the conversation with Brent had been too overwhelming.

Or maybe his constant stealing glances at her and the bulge in his pants had her mind on other things.

Strangely, every time she glanced at the bedside clock it was a couple of hours later, so obviously she was sleeping. She also dreamed. Images of her and a younger Bret played in her subconscious. But as the night went on, during the multiple times she awakened, she began to realize that it wasn't a younger Bret. It was Brent. Then her mind teased her with the notion that Brent was a younger Bret and all that implied.