Hand of Fate

He went into the room and saw more pictures of him and the redheaded woman together apparently on vacation. There were photos of Molly alone, him alone, them together and the two of them with other people he assumed were friends. One photo he thought was of Molly and an older man. But on closer inspection he saw it wasn't Molly but an older woman with whom she bore a striking resemblance. Molly's mother perhaps?

Scanning the forest of framed photographs on the piano his breath suddenly caught. From one of the photos his mother stared back at him and standing next to her was his father. This wasn't possible. First his dad had died when he was ten and his mom had never remarried. Secondly his mom had become something of a lush and a barfly after his father's death and the last time he saw her she showed the ravages of that lifestyle. But in the photo his mother looked fine, healthy and perky even. And his dad, his dad looked not as he remembered him but as he probably would have after an additional nineteen years of life. They looked to be a happy couple and Greg found himself on the verge of tears again. Suddenly something clicked in his mind and he tore out of the room. Running back up the staircase and into the bedroom he looked at the three group photos taken in some restaurant. He found the one he was looking for and studied the faces in it. He and Molly were seated together on one side at the head of the table. Across from them sat the two people he assumed were her parents in the photos downstairs and next to them sat his parents. His head was spinning and he had to back step and sit on the edge of the bed for a minute. He placed the heels of both hands against his forehead and rubbed while asking himself, "Am I going crazy? How is all this possible?"

"Greg, your breakfast is on the table sweetie," Molly called up from the bottom of the stairs.

Recovering somewhat he took a deep breath then responded, "Be right there."

Going into the kitchen he saw a place set at a small table in a bay window just off the kitchen and sat just as Molly set her own breakfast on the table. He looked at his plate and saw everything he liked for breakfast fixed just the way he preferred. They ate in silence as Megan sat propped up in a baby carrier set on the table trying to find that elusive thumb again.

Molly looked at Greg from time to time as they ate then finally asked, "Greg, what's the matter baby?"

Greg looked at her not sure what to say but after a moment said, "Nothing. Why?"

"You're so quiet this morning. You haven't even looked at your newspaper."

Greg thought for a second then responded, "Just thinking I guess."

"Work?" Molly asked.

For now that was as good a reason as any Greg thought and nodded.

"Well then maybe we can talk about it tonight when you get home," the woman he now knew and accepted as his wife said.

"Yes, we'll talk tonight." Thinking about how things had changed since he woke up this morning he added, "I really think we should do that." He finished his coffee then looked at his watch and said, "I've got to get going; I think I'm going to be late."

Greg got up from the table stood hesitantly for a second then stepped over and kissed Molly on the cheek. He looked down at Megan sitting on the table then kissed her on the forehead.

As she picked up their dirty dishes and brought them to the sink Molly reminded him, "Your car keys are on the counter by the garage door. You dropped them there last night when you came in."

Car keys? What car keys? I have a car? Greg was totally confused now. Looking around he spied a set of keys sitting on top the counter next to a door that presumably went to the garage. He walked over and looked down at them for a moment then gingerly picked the keys up as if he thought they may burn his fingers. Then noticing the way his wife was looking at him he said, "Thanks Molly, I guess I forgot I'd left them here."

Going into the garage he saw there were two Lexus' parked there. One was a SUV and the other a SC430. Using the remote key on the keychain he was pleasantly surprised to find the convertible was his. Driving downtown he noted the parking sticker on the left side of his windshield just above the brake inspection sticker. The parking sticker had the number L2R4S12 written in ink on the rear and with the sun shining through the sticker he could see the same number in reverse showing through in large bold block letters and numerals. Although he couldn't ever remember having a car much less a parking spot he knew the number on the sticker meant his assigned parking was in lot 2, row 4, slot 12. He also knew lot 2 was the executive parking lot nearest Picard Square. After parking his Lexus rather then taking the company shuttle Greg walked the two blocks to the Turner & Marks office building and entered.

Standing at the security counter were several guards watching the arriving employees. They were on the lookout for anyone in the crowd who was unfamiliar and whom they would prevent from accessing the upper floors without first determining they belonged there. Several of the newer employees were stopped and asked for their company ID before being allowed to proceed. As Greg passed the security counter one of the guards said pleasantly, "Good morning Mr. Hunt," and the greeting was quickly repeated by two other guards.

"Good morning," he replied surprised at the greeting. In his seven years of employment with Turner & Marks he'd never been greeted, he was just one of the masses. But now his company ID said he was an AVP. Is that why the guards took time to acknowledge him? If that were the case he knew their greeting him now was just as insincere as their ignoring him had been sincere ambivalence when he was only a clerk. He realized in short they were sucking up by wishing him a 'good morning'.

Waiting for the elevator several other employees including two of his co-workers and one of his supervisors from the Technology Department, well at least co-workers and supervisor from the life he remembered, greeted him as well. "Good morning Mr. Hunt."

Inwardly smiling he realized he used to do the same thing whenever he saw one of the executives in the morning. "Good morning mister or mizz so and so," he'd say. His greetings were sincere but now realized how insincere they sounded. Maybe he'd been a bit harsh in his evaluation of the guard's motives.

The man he knew as his supervisor added to his greeting, "We should have those P11 manuals for the Camrose plant start-up ready for your review by midday Mr. Hunt. We had a few problems with our fax machines yesterday and that caused the delay in getting them to you but that's all been straightened out now. We worked late last night getting caught up and just have a bit of binding to do. I'll personally deliver a finished copy to your office by lunch."

Not knowing what else to say Greg said, "That'll be fine." But he KNEW what the man was taking about, how was that? Turner & Marks was bringing a new unit on line at their Camrose plant just outside Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The P11 manuals were critical for that start-up.

Stepping onto the elevator people were calling out their floor numbers to the person standing nearest the control panel. Greg was tempted to say, "Seven please." Seven being the floor where he'd worked for most of his seven years in the Technology department. But before he could say anything the women at the panel said, "And twelve for Mr. Hunt."

Twelve, the executive suite! By the time the car got to twelve Greg was the last person in the elevator. When the door slid open he stepped off and tentatively walked through the glass doors with the 'T&M' logo.

"Good morning Mr. Hunt," said the receptionist seated behind her station just inside the double glass doors. From the sideboard behind her counter the woman picked up a four inch bundle held together with rubber bands and held it out saying, "Your mail sir."

"Thank you," Greg said taking the offered bundle. But now he didn't know where to go, had no idea where his office was. Turning back to the receptionist he said, "Excuse me, I know this will sound odd but can you tell me where my office is?"

"Why would that sound odd Mr. Hunt? Maintenance finished renovating your new office last night and moved your belongings back into it. It took them over a month to get it done so I can imagine you're not sure whether to go to your new or temporary office. It's down that hall to your right sir," the pretty black women said as she pointed.

Smiling sheepishly Greg said, "Thank you Miss Robbins." The woman's name just came to him. How did he know it?

"Your most welcome sir," she replied with a dazzling smile.

He walked down the hall surreptitiously reading the name plaques next to each door until he saw, 'Gregory Hunt- A.V.P. Manufacturing; US & Canada'.

"Good morning Mr. Hunt," said a voice from his left.

Turning he saw an attractive brunette standing at the opening of her cubicle holding an appointment book in her hand. She said, "You have nothing on your schedule until one o'clock when you meet with the Gila Bend Plant Manager. They had a weather delay and her plane arrived late last night from Phoenix so she asked for a reschedule. I went ahead and moved the appointment back so you'd have time to get comfortable in your new digs. I've already unlocked the door and took a look. They did a beautiful job of renovating; I think you'll like it."

Somehow everything the woman said sounded familiar. He did have an upcoming appointment with Helen Mitchell, Plant Manager of the Gila Bend plant, one of Turner & Marks' agricultural interests. He knew this woman's name too, Myra Sykes and she was his secretary. He even knew she was twenty-five years old and recently married. "Thank you Myra," he said. How did he know these things and not remember being more than just a writer of user manuals for the company?

Opening the office door he stepped in and saw a not too big, not too small office with richly paneled walls and behind the desk a wall of windows covered by drapes. Myra walked to one corner near the rear of the office and opened the drapes. "Nice isn't it?" she asked.

"Very," Greg replied. Standing behind the desk he saw a picture of Molly on the corner of the desk. On the opposite side was one of Megan. Myra stepped out of the office pulling the door closed behind her. Greg looked around the room and saw three diploma's from Yale hanging on the wall. Each carried his name and indicated he held Doctorate degrees in Business; one each for Accounting, Finance and Marketing. Doctorate's!

There were pictures on the wall too. Most were of various company manufacturing plants. But one showed Greg wearing a hard hat along with a few other 'coat and tie' types. Each held a shovel and had a foot on the shoulder as if they were about to push the blade into the earth. A ground breaking? In another Greg was shaking the hand of an elderly looking gentleman whom he didn't recognize. They were holding each end of a scroll of some sort between them as they shook hands and faced the camera. There were two pictures that about knocked his socks off. In separate photographs he was standing next to and shaking the hand of the current and previous Presidents. Not company Presidents but Presidents of the United States. What circles did he move in?

Greg sat behind his desk and began to think. How can some things I've seen and heard today seem so familiar and other things seem so alien? When in the world did I go to Yale? How did I get from the seventh floor to the executive suite? When did I meet Molly much less when did I marry her? So many questions so few answers. How? When? Why? Shaking his head he closed his eyes for a moment and...

The persistent sound of the alarm clock intruded on Greg's sleep. Rolling over he pressed the button on top of the clock turning it off. Raising his arms he stretched his body then heard the pounding of little feet running down the hall outside his bedroom. Suddenly a tiny red haired girl burst through the bedroom door and leapt upon the bed giggling as she crawled up towards the headboard, crawling excitedly over Greg.

"Daddy, daddy you're awake at last! Bet you can't guess whose birthday it is today daddy. Bet you can't."

Greg blinked several times then knew who the little girl was but didn't understand. Yesterday Megan had been a baby just a few months old, but now she was somewhat older. Watching the little girl he saw in the background when Molly entered through the bedroom door seconds behind their daughter.

"Can you guess daddy huh daddy can you guess whose birthday it is today?" the grinning, excited little girl asked.

"Well I don't know for sure but I think it just might be yours."

"Yippee! Daddy knew it was my birthday today mommy, he knew it was." The little girl crawled higher still and wrapped her arms tightly around her daddy's neck and kissed his face.

"She's been so excited I almost couldn't keep her out of here this morning, she couldn't wait for the alarm to go off. She was a little bit disappointed she couldn't come in first thing and wake you but when I explained you had a late night and needed to sleep in Megan said she understood. You should have seen her; she was sitting at the table eating her cereal and thinking about what I'd said then announced she'd decided her daddy could sleep a little bit longer before she had to wake him up, but only a little bit longer. And when she heard the alarm go off...huh...she shot up here to see you," Molly explained.

"That's ok baby you should have let Megan wake me. It's my little girl's birthday today and she's excited about it. But I bet she don't know how old she is today though."

"I do too daddy, I'm five now," she said proudly holding her hand up with the fingers spread wide.

"Five! Wow you're getting so big. How many fingers is that?" he asked pointing at her hand.

"One...two......three......uh...four......five," Megan counted slowly touching each upheld digit with the index finger of her other hand.

Smiling broadly he hugged his daughter and said, "Look at you counting. You're so smart too."

"Yep, and I'm your big girl now huh daddy cause I'm five?" the mirror image of her mother asked.

"You certainly are sweetheart," Greg said.

"Can I be daddy's big girl too Megan?" asked Mom.

"Silly mommy you can't be daddy's big girl. You're his wife already," giggled the redheaded child, assured her logic was correct and unquestionable.

Their love for each other only superseded by their love for Megan the parents of the adorable redheaded five year old looked at each other and smiled.

Molly said, "They're setting up her party in the back yard now. The first kids should be getting here about eleven so get yourself up and get dressed." Then after one last kiss mom and daughter left the room.

Later during the birthday party Greg walked around the yard watching as the children played. They had a space walk, a merry-go-round, lawn games and garden relay races, face painting, bean bag tossing, musical chairs, Shetland ponies to ride and a small wagon pulled by other ponies, a petting zoo and a clown who made balloon animals and who also did magic tricks. Megan was having the time of her young life. She and her friends ran from this to that but the ponies seemed to be the favorite.

Later while Molly and Greg stood together under a tree watching as Megan petted a marmoset with a sense of wonder and a huge smile on her face, Greg bent over to pick up something he'd dropped. When he stood the scene had changed and he and Molly were walking together along a path. Her arm was through his as they strolled and up ahead of them were two figures, a tall slender girl and a bit taller boy. Greg recognized the path they were on but it wasn't at the house, it was part of the zoo complex, a sort of botanical garden.

"You know what this reminds me of?" asked Molly.

"No," he replied.

"You know that scene in The Godfather where Al Pacino is in Sicily and he and that girl he eventually marries are out walking?"

"Yes."

"Remember they were walking down the road and a little ways behind them came all the girl's relatives?"

"Uh huh."

"That's what we're doing. Megan walking with her friend up there and here we are chaperoning them. I know she's only twelve now and they're not getting married but this just reminded me of that scene."

Greg was stunned. 'Twelve!' he thought. Looking at the young couple ahead of them he saw when the red haired girl turned and looked their way, smiling. His baby was twelve now, where had the years gone?

"I'm so glad your promotion won't take us away from here. I was worried when they gave you the Vice President of sales and marketing job we'd have to go to New York or something."

'I'm a VP now?' Greg thought to himself surprised at the news, but somehow knew how to answer Molly's concerns. "No, the offices of all AVP's and above are at Picard Square."

Molly was glad; she didn't want to uproot her family each time Greg got a promotion. She watched her daughter and the young man up ahead of them and smiled when the boy took Megan's hand. "Look at them Greg. Oh our baby is growing up."

Greg watched his little girl, and that's exactly how he still saw Megan. He felt a curious mix of pride and protectiveness when the boy took her hand. Megan was tall for her age and very thin. Not anorexic or bulimic or anything like that, just thin. She was athletic too having played soccer and softball for several years now. She hadn't yet begun to develop but he could see she would be just like her mom, curves in all the right places.

They followed the young couple through the garden until the path brought them to the small amusement area of the park. There were several rides to be enjoyed; a Ferris wheel and a small scale train that went around most of the perimeter of the park, bumper cars, hall of mirrors, a skydiver ride and a carousel more than a hundred years old. There was also a kiddy park with smaller, gentler rides for the smallest children but Megan was too big for those now.

Megan and her friend were standing in line for the antique cars. These were models of Tin Lizzy's and Model A's pulled by an underground cable along a set track. The cars went through a small section of the wooded park, through a nineteen twenties style small town mock up and then through a long low building with a lovers lane theme. Greg and Molly were able to get the car right behind the young couple with Molly taking the seat behind the wheel, as she always did. Greg wanted to be able to keep a close eye on his daughter, wanted to make sure the boy didn't take advantage of the situation in the darkened building housing 'lovers lane'.

As the cars moved along their appointed path Molly and Greg talked about an upcoming dinner party they were having when Molly asked just as their car entered lover's lane, "Do you remember our first ride through here Greg? We came here on our first date and almost as soon as we went inside you slid over, put your arm around me and held my hand. I thought you were going for a quick feel but you weren't. You were quite the gentleman."

"I remember," Greg responded then slid over and did just as Molly had said he'd done all those years earlier. Thing was he did remember that time so many years ago.

They sat quietly, Molly's head against Greg's shoulder watching the car ahead of them for a bit and were brought back to the moment when the kids' car burst through the exit door across the track letting the sunlight in, then suddenly it was dark again when the door closed again.

Fifteen, twenty seconds behind the kids' car their car pushed the doors open into the bright midday sun. Greg held his hand up to shade his eyes then heard Molly saying tersely, "...and I know you're ok with this but I'm telling you I'm just not comfortable with the situation."