Happenstance Ch. 02

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This fictional, novel-length story tells the tale of a man who finds out just how complicated life can be and how chance and coincidence - happenstance, if you like - can turn that life into something that Alice of 'Through The Looking Glass' fame might understand.

While reading this tale of love, deception and betrayal, those who persevere will come to understand that love can hide a multitude of sins. They might also come to understand that perception is not reality. This is particularly true about subjects many consider to be taboo.

I have published all five chapters of this story under the 'Loving Wives' category because that's the general theme. It should be noted, however, that there are references to subjects some readers might consider should be published under other categories. But please don't go getting your tits in a tangle about it. As I hinted at earlier, all is not what it seems.

Please note that the right of Black Jack Steele to be identified as the author of this work - Happenstance - is asserted under worldwide copyright laws. All rights are reserved.

HAPPENSTANCE

Copyright © Black Jack Steele 2022

CHAPTER TWO

Storms Clear the Air

Matt's relationship with Shelley changes.

Shelley's grandmother, Irene Horseman, and I had never reached the uninvited drop-in stage in our relationship - even before Charlie had taken off - and we had become virtual strangers since. I sent her a Christmas card each year, but since we had no filial connection, that was the extent of our involvement with each other. She didn't even see any need to reciprocate with the card thing.

The only time we'd had anything like a conversation during the past six years was when I had visited her in an attempt to find out if she knew anything about her daughter's disappearance. I left our short meeting convinced that she knew a great deal more than she was admitting to. I was also convinced that even if she did know something, she was not about to share that knowledge with me. I got the impression that she somehow thought Charlie was doing the right thing by finally dumping me and taking off with Jim Davis. Of course, what I didn't know at the time - which she obviously did - was that Jim Davis was Shelley's biological father.

After calling ahead to let her know I was planning to visit her on Christmas Day and that I had a present for her - and after being told that she had made other arrangements for that day - I had taken Shelley over to see her grandmother on Boxing Day afternoon.

Sadly, the meeting did not go as well as I had thought it would. While I fully expected my welcome to be less than effusive, I didn't expect the degree of coolness Irene showed towards her granddaughter.

"Why are you here, Michelle?" she asked, reluctantly inviting us into her home and leading us into her kitchen. After pointing us to a couple of chairs - and more out of habit than hospitality, which, I was sure, wouldn't have been the case had it only been me in attendance - she began preparing tea. Interestingly, we weren't offered a choice of beverages, and I noted that she didn't lay out a plate of biscuits for us; something my mother would have done as a polite gesture, regardless of her feelings toward her guests. I assumed that meant we shouldn't make ourselves too comfortable.

"What do you mean, Gran?" Shelley responded. "I thought it only right that I visit you while I'm over here, and Daddy offered to bring me around to see you."

"I mean, why are you here with Matthew? I thought you were planning on staying with me while you were over here from Perth and that you intended to fly back home before Christmas. After all, isn't Christmas a time to be with family?"

Her questions confirmed that not only did she know where Charlie and her husband were living but that she had recently been in touch with them. I wondered if Charlie's husband and those protecting him knew about it. As it turned out, I wasn't the only one who picked up on Irene's slip.

"I am with family, Gran," Shelley said. "I'm staying with Daddy, and I'm here visiting you. Where would you prefer I be?"

"I'd have preferred that you had stayed with your mother and father; your real father," Irene responded, a trace of anger in her voice as she glanced over at me.

"So you'd rather I live with the man who made my mother pregnant then did a runner instead of doing the right thing and marrying her? The man who, for the next twelve years, didn't contribute a single cent to help Mum out while raising his daughter? The man who, later, came back into her life and stole her - and me - away from the only father I had known?

"You'd prefer that I live with the man whose life is so secretive that I haven't been able to even send a Christmas card to you or Daddy for fear that our whereabouts might be discovered? The man who prevented me from forming relationships with my schoolmates because they might inadvertently let someone know where we lived? That man?

"This man - Matt King - is my real father," she almost shouted as she stood and dragged me to my feet. "The man you speak of was merely my sperm donor. He and Mum have another family now; a family in which I don't fit. That's why I'm over here and not over there.

"I thought that by reconnecting with you and Daddy, I could have a family in which I did fit. But it appears I was mistaken.

"Thank you for inviting us in, but I don't think we will stay for tea." She was fighting back tears as she reached into her shoulder bag and extracted a gift-wrapped parcel before placing it on the table. She'd bought her grandmother a beautifully-crafted shawl, which she had carefully wrapped in silver Christmas-themed paper. The parcel also contained a lovingly-written card in which she'd expressed her memories of her time with her grandmother before being snatched away.

"Merry Christmas, Gran," she said as we turned to leave. "I'm sorry for imposing on your life. It won't happen again.

"From what you've said, it's clear that you knew about Mum and Jim's affair and were complicit in their plans to kidnap me and disappear into the night. It's also clear that you've known where they've been hiding and that you've been in contact with them the whole time.

"It appears that so recent has that contact been that you also knew about my coming over here and, between the two of you, had arranged for me to stay with you. You both must have been sorely pissed when you learned I was staying with Daddy. So pissed, in fact, that knowing where I was, you didn't bother to pick up the phone to call me. Rather, you waited for me to come to see you before attempting to belittle Daddy and tear me to shreds.

"Well, as your daughter's husband will tell you, I'm now old enough that I don't have to take that sort of crap from anyone. Not him. Not Mum. And certainly not from you. If this is a sample of what I would have been subjected to had I come straight here from the airport when I arrived in town, I'm glad I went to see Daddy first and accepted his invitation to stay with him in our old home."

She managed to hold back her torrent of tears until we were in the car and driving away from her grandmother's house. Her sobbing was so intense that I had to stop the car after turning the first corner so I could pull her into my arms to comfort her.

'How could someone who's been so close to another person for the first twelve years of her life be so callous?' I asked myself as I held her. 'Surely Irene could set aside her dislike of me for long enough to see that her granddaughter needs her in her life?'

On the way home from Irene Horseman's house, we stopped in at the same milk bar I'd always taken her to as a child. I didn't know whether her tastes had changed over the years, but ice cream had always been the panacea for disappointment when she'd been younger. I hoped the same would be true that day. It was. By the time we'd finished our ice cream sundaes, she was almost back to being her normal bubbly self and was looking forward to returning to what she now saw as her home so she could spend what remained of the day working on the project I'd given her for Christmas.

We ordered Chinese takeaway that night and snuggled up on the lounge to watch the traditional Boxing Day broadcast of the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo on TV. I was quickly becoming accustomed to having my daughter back in my life.

---oooBJSooo---

As was the case during the years we had been apart, I had bought her what I considered to be an age-appropriate gift for each of her birthdays and for Christmas. Not knowing whether she would be entering the workforce or heading off to university once she'd completed her high school education, I'd bought her a pen set as that year's Christmas present.

When she'd elected to stay with me, rather than returning to the west coast, though, I thought she needed something more than a token, generic gift. After thinking about it, I decided to give her something more substantial. And what could be more substantial than a car?

But, while that was great in theory, I didn't have a lot of cash to splash about on anything too extravagant for her. What I did have, however, was a seven-year-old, low-mileage Toyota Carolla RV Seca sitting gathering dust in my garage; although 'gathering dust' might be an overstatement because I had it covered. But with less than twenty thousand kilometres on the clock, it was low mileage. In fact, it had been almost new when Charlie had bought it a little over six years earlier.

Having recently thought about selling it, I had consulted a lawyer to determine whether or not she still owned it. From that conversation, I learned that, as she had not laid claim to it for more than five years, and it had been in my possession for the whole of that time, the vehicle was legally mine. The fact that I hadn't sold it before Shelley re-entered my life could be attributed to kismet; that and my tendency to procrastinate about things that weren't particularly important in my life.

Besides, it had been sitting in the garage for so long that it had become a fixture. The only time it had moved during that period had been when - three or four times each year - I'd roll it outside and run the engine to circulate the oil and charge the battery. I don't think I had washed it during the whole time it had been in my possession, and I certainly hadn't bothered to renew the registration.

"Well, isn't this a turn-up for the books," Shelley said as she opened the gift-wrapped package containing the pen set I'd bought for her. It wasn't an expensive set. Hell, when I'd bought it, I didn't know whether I'd even be in a position to give it to her.

'But at least it's something she'll be able to use if I ever get the chance to do so,' I'd thought at the time.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said as she handed me her gift. "These will come in very handy when I start my uni studies."

It was only when I opened my present that I understood what she'd meant when she'd said, "Isn't this a turn-up for the books". When I peeled back the wrapping paper, I found an antique Sheaffer fountain pen. It had obviously been used, but it was in excellent condition.

"Thank you, My Baby Girl," I said, leaning over to hug her. "I'll treasure it."

"But where did you find it?" I asked, astounded not only by the similarity of our presents to each other, but by the quality of her gift to me. I was also concerned about how much she would have had to pay for such a rare item.

"I spotted it in a charity shop when you went off to buy yourself a couple of new tee shirts the other day," she answered. "From watching antique shows, I knew exactly what it was as soon as I saw it and thought it would go well amongst your eclectic collection of antique knick-knacks you keep in your office. The people in the shop had no idea of its value. I'm not going to tell you how much I paid for it, but let's just say it's worth considerably more than their asking price.

"I'm not sure if it works, but working or not, it will fit in well with your other pieces."

"Working or not," I said, promising myself I would have it working in no time. "I love it. Thank you, Sweetheart.

"Now, I said, taking her hand and standing, "let me show you something I know is working." I then led her out to the garage.

"Ta-daa," I proclaimed, pulling the cover off the Corolla with as much flair as I could muster.

"This is your real present," I said. "It's yours, free and clear. I'll cover the costs of getting it on the road. I'll also pay the first year's registration fees and insurances. But after that, it will be up to you. Your car. Your responsibility. The only thing you will have to do is to detail it before it goes to the mechanic to be serviced and inspected for roadworthiness."

"Oh, Daddy, thank you!" she yelled excitedly, throwing herself into my arms for a brief hug before crawling over, through and around her new set of wheels.

"Wait!" she said once her excitement had mellowed a little. "This is Mum's car, isn't it?"

"It was your mother's car," I acknowledged. "But she left it behind when she took off with your sperm donor. It's now mine to do with as I please. And it pleases me to pass it on to you."

She started on her detailing project as soon as we returned from enjoying a Christmas feast down at my local pub that afternoon. By the time I took her to the transport department office to register it on the second of January, her car had been fitted with a new battery, a new set of tyres and a new set of belts. It had also had all the oils and lubricants replaced and had been fully tuned. It looked and drove like a brand-new car.

The only complication in the whole process arose when Shelley was told that to register the car in her name at my address, she would have to transfer her driver's licence over from Western Australia to Queensland. That was an epiphany moment for her. I think it was then that she realised she would be shutting the door on her previous life and that there would be no turning back.

I felt for her as she struggled with the conundrum she faced that day and offered to register the car in my name, with the promise to transfer it over to her later if that's what she wanted to do after thinking about her situation.

"No, Daddy," she said after taking a few moments to weigh up the pros and cons of the problem. "I've already decided to transfer my university application over to the east coast. That means I am committed to staying here for at least the next three or four years. So let's do it.

When we walked out of the office that afternoon, she had a set of registration plates in her hand and a newly-issued Queensland driver's licence in her wallet. After removing the dealer plate I had borrowed and fixing the new plates to her car, Shelley drove us home. Naturally, we stopped for ice cream on the way.

I took her to a little Italian restaurant I'd often frequented that night to celebrate her once again becoming a banana-bender (Queenslander) after having spent the past six years as a sandgroper (Westralian).

---oooBJSooo---

Shelley's transition from west to east wasn't easy, however; not with her mother and Davis/Oliver - and her grandmother - strongly resisting the move.

A few weeks into the new year, we'd been sitting in the living room reading when she asked if I'd mind if she called her mother to tell her of her intention to switch to an eastern university to undertake her studies. This wasn't her first call to her family, though. She'd called a couple of times since she'd arrived. The first had been to let her mother know that she'd reconnected with me and that she'd be staying with me while over here. And the second, to wish her family - particularly her brother and sister - well on Christmas Day.

Her third call didn't go well.

Her mother fought vigorously to change her mind, playing on her heartstrings with reminders of how much her brother and sister missed her and telling her - as her grandmother had done - that she should return to be with her family. Davis/Oliver's arguments were less emotional, however, highlighting his black-and-white mindset by focusing on practical matters. While they were centred primarily on financial issues, it became clear as the discussion progressed that his main concern was his own safety.

After contesting her mother's definition of family, Shelley shot her down when she hit her with the 'failure to post her letters to me' bullet. Charlie had no comeback from that except to say that she had done it to protect her 'real' father's anonymity. That argument carried no weight with her daughter.

Nor did her bio-father's threat to cut off any further monetary assistance.

After thanking him for providing for her since stealing her away from her 'real' father, she told him that, despite their genetic connection, she had never considered him to be anything other than a stand-in. She said she had referred to him as 'Dad' out of respect for the fact that he had married her mother and that her mother had provided him with two other children who, in a biological sense at least, were her brother and sister.

She then explained to him that it had never been her intention to rely on him to cover her ongoing living or education costs once she had reached her legal maturity and that she would have been moving out of their family home after returning from the east coast, even had I not invited her to stay with me.

"You and Mum need to be able to raise Tom and Gerrie without having me around to remind you of your past lives," she'd told him before pausing to listen to his response, which was obviously a repeat of her mother's argument.

"I'll miss them, too... and Mum," she then said. "But I won't miss the friction that exists between you and me. Maybe I'll be able to come over there to see them from time to time. But that probably won't happen until after I graduate and have started generating an income. I don't expect Daddy to pay for me to fly backwards and forwards to visit the people who betrayed him. And I'm sure you won't be offering to cover my travel expenses after having made yourself clear on the financial support issue."

Shelley went silent as her biological father spoke.

"No," she said, obviously in answer to a question about his witness protection status. "No, I haven't disclosed anything about your situation. And I don't plan on doing so. That's your business and your life. I just don't want to be part of it any longer."

Silence, once again.

"Don't threaten me, you bastard!" she said, raising her voice in anger. "I've promised you that I won't share your secret, and I won't. Not with him or anyone else. But don't take him for the dumb and gormless fool you and Mum seem to think he is. He is a very savvy investigative journalist. And I'm sure that if he wanted to, he would have no trouble finding out everything there is to know about you and the reasons behind your secret life.

"Fortunately for you, he no longer gives a rat's about you or Mum. The pair of you cheated behind his back, then slithered away into the darkness like a pair of yellow-bellied black snakes - once again, while his back was turned. He didn't care about you then, and he doesn't care about you now. His only concern was for me and my well-being. And now I'm here with him, and he has no reason to want to continue searching for me, you and Mum are no longer of any interest to him.

"As far as being the cuckold wimp you often called him when you were criticising him for how soft he had been with me, you'd have learned just how much of a wimp he was if he had ever found out about you and Mum; which probably would have happened sooner rather than later had you not kidnapped me and made your getaway when you did. I've seen him in action in both the boxing ring and at his martial arts dojo, and I know he would have had no trouble tearing you apart had you had the courage to face up to him instead of stabbing him in the back the way you did.