Flyover Country Ch. 03

After all the introductions and a certain amount of general discussion had taken place, Sharon's dad invited—ordered—me to accompany him to his study, which opened off a short hallway from the living room. Sharon and I had talked about this and how we were going to do about it.

* * *

When we came out, I was a bit shaken by the sheer arrogance of the man, and his assurance only he could determine what would and would not make his daughter happy in life. He was quite certain a cowboy bush pilot should not even think of applying for the job of husband.

I sat back down beside a waiting Sharon and smiled at her. She returned my smile with one of her own brilliant grins. I nodded. Things had gone pretty much as she'd warned me they would.

Mr. Kincaid went to a sideboard and poured himself a liberal amount of brandy in a snifter and then ensconced himself in a leather upholstered swivel rocker by the fireplace.

"So ... how'd it go?" Sharon asked loudly.

"...Offered me two hundred and fifty thousand to leave Anchorage on the next plane and never come back," I reported.

Kincaid looked up in amazement. I wasn't supposed to say that.

"DAAAADIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Sharon wailed. "You only offered him that much?" She covered her eyes with her hands, apparently crying in disbelief.

"I'm offended ... are you offended?" she continued, turning to face me directly. She dropped the weeping as it it'd never been.

"I am!" I replied solemnly, nodding emphatically.

"DADDY!" she complained bitterly, turning back to her father. "How could you! A measly two hundred and fifty thousand? Don't you love me, Daddy?" She put on a pouting expression. "I'm worth a lot more than that ... Daddy, you need to offer Matt ... at least ten million ... twenty million! What were you thinking?"

Kincaid's jaw had dropped to his chest with her first words. He tried to recover.

Sharon wouldn't let him find a way to regain the offensive. She stood and stalked over to him. Her facial expression told him she wasn't kidding now.

"Daddy, dear," she said brittlely, "let's be clear about this. You can accept I'm going to be with my husband for the rest of our lives ... or, Daddy, you can have the Ice Bitch Princess back, making your life and the lives of all your friends and partners a bloody hell," she said viciously, punching her finger accusingly into her father's chest.

"What's it gonna be ... Daddy?" she asked menacingly.

Mr. Kincaid looked us all over. He was more than intelligent. He saw his daughter had set up the whole embarrassing scene and he now knew she had no intention of letting me go. He was aware I'd been playing him in the study by listening to his proposal. Out maneuvered on his own turf, he capitulated.

"Welcome to the family, Matt," he remarked, lifting his brandy snifter in salute in my direction. "... And good luck!" he added, but he was relaxing and even smiled a little.

Sharon came back to sit beside me and I kissed her on the lips.

"What...?" she asked, confused. Sharon and I had a pact. She was concerned about her temper, thinking she let it get away from her far too often. To work on it, I gave her a kiss every time she stifled a smartass remark or tamped down a response to something she didn't like. She'd just unloaded on her father and a kiss wasn't supposed to be a reward for that.

"You were provoked ... badly," I whispered. "And you didn't physically hurt anybody!" I added, then kissed her twice more. We smiled into each other's face.

"Besides, Daddy," Sharon said, speaking to her father again. "You're going to want Matt here with me ... and your newest grandchild...!"

The room was silent for a long moment.

I turned to her, amazed. "You mean ... you're...?"

She nodded, smiling serenely. "We got the test results back from our exams this morning, 'member?"

I nodded.

"Well, mine had a couple pages yours didn't," she explained. "I'm three weeks pregnant."

"Oh my God," I breathed. Then I crushed her to me and did my best to smother her in kisses.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered.

"Had it in my back pocket," Sharon murmured back, "just in case I needed it, like if Daddy was a bigger shit than he usually is," she explained.

I kissed her again.

"Hmmmmm?" she inquired.

"Nothing but kisses for you today," I told her, "...you were defending me and our marriage ... and you're having our baby ... you can't do anything wrong today, love."

Then Sharon was pulled away by her mother and mine to be hugged, kissed, and congratulated. I got handshakes and congrats from my Dad and Bruce Kincaid, but no kisses from them. When the grandmothers-to-be were finished with Sharon, I wrapped my arms around her and did my best to bruise her lips with mine. She wound her arms around my neck and bruised me right back.

When they were done, Judy retreated to sit on Bruce's chair arm. "They remind you of anyone ... you and me, maybe?" Judy asked her husband after watching Sharon and me for a long moment.

Bruce studied us a moment, then shrugged. "No, can't say as they do," he opined.

He got an elbow in the short ribs for that. He winced, putting more than a little drama into it.

"AH HAH!" I chortled dramatically. "THAT'S where she gets it!"

Everyone looked at me with question marks in their eyes.

"I am forever getting elbowed in the ribcage, or pinched, or something," I explained. "Now I see she comes by it naturally—from her mother!" I explained accusingly.

It got a little laugh. Tensions were easing off quite nicely after a rocky start.

"So ... just asking for a little advice, Bruce," I continued, "any chance a little spanking every now and then would help with that tendency to use elbows to the ribs as a conversation gambit?"

He considered the question. "I'll have to let you know," he told me, taking the easy way out. It earned him another rib buster, but he grinned broadly. I was beginning to like my new father-in-law, and I thought he was starting to like me, in spite of himself.

My Dad had been standing by the balcony door, examining the view outside. As he strolled back to his seat, I asked him. "Hey Dad ... think a spanking would work with Mom? Would it help with some of her more ... uh ... aggressive little pats and pinches, and ... stuff?"

Dad didn't respond beyond an arching of his eyebrows as he sat down. He tightened his lips rather than reply. He shook his head.

"Why not?" I asked with a grin.

Mom had been studying a painting ... an original by someone, I guessed ... and she was on her way back to her chair beside Dad. As she passed she patted me on the arm. "...Wouldn't work at all, honey," she said quietly, "I like it too much," she explained and continued past to sit demurely beside my Dad. Dad shrugged his shoulders expressively and did his imitation of a cat that swallowed a canary.

Judy exploded with a loud hoot of laughter. She tried to smother her guffaws with both hands across her mouth, but she couldn't. "...She likes it too much...!" Judy wailed helplessly. She collapsed onto her husband and tried to stuff the shirt on his back into her mouth.

I could feel my eyes getting rounder and wider. I looked at Sharon.

"Don't even think about it, Buster," she advised with one of THOSE looks. She leaned close to my ear. "I'm pregnant right now, you know," she whispered softly. Her eyes were dancing.

* * *

Our marriage in the woods was valid, but not legal in the sense that neither Alaska nor any other of the United States would recognize it. To rectify that, we had a civil ceremony with a duly paid-for marriage license a week later.

Neither Sharon nor I wanted a big, gaudy ceremony with a zillion guests and tons of stress, but we weren't entirely successful in communicating that idea. So a month after the civil ceremony, we stood up before the preacher in the church the Kincaids usually patronized and gave each other the same vows we'd exchanged before our fellow survivors and our presiding Baptist minister in the wilderness. Mother Kincaid had only invited two hundred and sixteen guests.

Sharon's father gave us a wedding present of a voucher for unlimited travel on one of the biggest of the world's airlines and we used it—a lot. Our only requirements were that the destination be warm, that we wouldn't have to wear heavy clothing or boots, and the hotel had to have lots and lots of hot water for showers, hot tubes, and jacuzzis. We couldn't get enough of all that wonderful hot water. After trekking for months with very few chances to get really clean, we were of a mind to indulge ourselves.

Thomas Bruce Singletary was born just short of eight and a half months after we first learned he was on the way and his sister Judith Lea was born fourteen months later. They both had me wrapped around their tiny little fingers from the very beginning of their lives, and they knew it. We decided to hold off on any more children for a while, to allow our first two to get a little older.

* * *

I was certain Sharon loved me as no woman ever loved a man before, and I was sure we were supremely happy. We were, until I found out nothing involving a man and a woman is guaranteed to be perfect forever.

End, Part 3 (of 4)