Irresistible Force

There is a trial depicted in this work. I am NOT an attorney, nor have I played one on TV. What I know of legal proceedings was garnered from Perry Mason and Night Court (the first one). If I have offended someone in the legal field, it isn't the first time (don't ask). Please take this for what it is. Fiction.

I just wanted a quiet life. To be left alone, well with the exception of my girls, six year old twins. They were the only ray of sunshine in my otherwise clusterfuck of a life. We'd moved here over five years ago when the girl's human incubator left us in the middle of the night. She never wanted kids and the accidental pregnancy was something she never got over. I offered to marry her, she laughed. She told me I wasn't even close to marriage material, just a fucktoy. I wasn't surprised she ran, honestly. Moving here got us out from under meddling family and friends and once final custody had been determined (I got full custody, she didn't even fight) gave us an opportunity to heal and recover.

The girls loved it here and made friends easily. At six years old, they were coming to grips with the reality of being unwanted by their 'mother'. I did my best assure them I loved them with all my heart telling them I didn't understand why 'she' didn't, but that I was 100% sure it wasn't their fault. As they grew older, I had hope they would believe me.

There was a distinct downside to being the only single dad in a grade school full of single moms. I was a target. Barely a week went by that one of them wasn't trying to get me to come by and look at something or another. Hell, the more blatant ones just asked me if I'd fuck them. I know, get a real problem, right? The thing was, I just wanted to raise my girls and make sure they weren't permanently damaged by being abandoned. I didn't have time, or even the desire, to date or anything else for that matter. I'm not a casual sex kind of guy and trying to maintain a relationship, especially in my current frame of mind was, at best, unwise.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

One spring Friday afternoon, I left work early, I don't even know why. I just needed to pick up my girls from school. Not something I did on a regular basis, but I did it from time to time as the urge hit me. I was parked at the curb of the school at the base of Harper's Hill talking with Terri Ryker, who was leaning on my truck door offering me a look so deep down her cleavage I'm pretty sure I could see her shoes.

Trying NOT to look and at the same time be reasonably polite, I glanced away, up the hill, briefly. Then blinked and looked again. SHIT!! Coming down Harper's Hill was Deke Morgan's dump truck and it was moving WAY faster than it should be. Deke was one of the first people in town to befriend me. He was a lovable old curmudgeon but his driving skills were unmatched. Something was wrong. I quickly scanned the windshield looking for Deke's signature bright pink ball cap and initially didn't see it, or anything else for that matter. There appeared to be no driver. As the truck bounced off a parked car, I caught a brief glimpse of pink. Deke was in the truck, but was seemingly unconscious. If the truck continued on its current heading, it would plow into the crowded school yard.

It was then I saw my girls. There was no way I could get them to safety. Quickly I turned to Terri and pointed. "Runaway truck, RUN!!" I honked furiously and gestured uphill hoping somebody would see the oncoming disaster, then did the only thing I could think of at the time. I fired up my truck, floored the accelerator and spun around pointing the nose directly towards the oncoming behemoth. I don't know why, but at that moment an old Physics equation ran through my head. Force = Mass x Acceleration. Deke's truck would weigh at least 30,000 pounds loaded, my pickup, maybe 5000. My only thought was I hoped I had enough force to stop, or at least deflect Deke's truck. I didn't have the mass so I opted for acceleration. I never let up on the gas pedal.

They would later tell me the ensuing collision was heard for several blocks. I didn't stop Deke's truck, but I did change its trajectory. Straight into a telephone pole, using my truck for a cushion. It took them almost an hour to cut me from the wreckage.

Fleeting moment of light and pain the likes of which I hope never to experience again flashed through what little consciousness I had until, at long last, I emerged from the darkness.

My eyelids felt like they weighted tons, but I managed, barely, to get one to open, even if only slightly. The brightness poured in and I immediately slammed it shut again and groaned.

"Mr. Jessup, can you hear me?" A voice asked.

"Ugggh." I responded.

I felt someone take my hand. "Squeeze my hand."

With Herculean effort, I just managed to squeeze hard enough that it registered to the voice.

"Good." They said. "Welcome back, you've had us rather worried."

"W-wh-aa-t?" I croaked.

"You're in the hospital Mr. Jessup. Do you remember anything.?" The voice asked.

"Deke...OK?" I rasped hoarsely.

"No." They answered. "He suffered a massive heart attack. He was probably dead before you even saw the truck. I know he was a friend. I'm sorry."

"Girls?" I wheezed.

"They're fine." The voice assured. "Missing their daddy, but otherwise OK. They've been staying with friends. You need to get some rest. We'll talk later."

At that point, I faded back into the darkness, probably with the help of pharmaceuticals.

At some later time, consciousness again returned. This time I felt a little less like I'd been hit by a truck, even though, in reality I had been and a rather big one I might add. I found it strange that I was so weak, but never having been seriously injured, I guess I really didn't have a point of reference.

The voice was again present. "Hello again."

"Water." I croaked.

Feeling a straw on my lips, I latched on and sucked glorious, cool liquid into my arid mouth. In that moment, I could think of nothing else that came even close to tasting that good.

"Take it slow." The voice chided. "You haven't taken anything by mouth in quite a while."

"How long?" I asked.

"We'll talk about that when you're stronger." The voice said.

Several days later, I was strong enough to sit up a bit and the voice had resolved into the face of one of my nurses. Janet Riggins. She was attentive and professional in every way, but absolutely refused to answer most of the questions I asked, deferring to my doctor.

"When can I see him?" I inquired.

"Never." She grinned playfully.

"Why is that?" I asked rather gruffly.

"Because Dr. Cortright is a woman." She giggled. "She'll be in sometime later this afternoon."

"Not going anywhere." I growled. My sense of humor had not yet returned.

Lying there connected to all sorts of wires and tubes with machines wheezing and beeping is certainly not he best way to spend time, but I did have to admit, even begrudgingly, it beat the alternative. I was beat up and in pain, but I was alive. After thinking about what I did, honestly, I was amazed.

"When can I see Lynn and Amber?" I asked.

"After you see Dr. Cortright." Janet answered. "She needs to tell you a few things."

"Sounds ominous." I observed.

Later that afternoon Dr. Cortright made her first appearance into my little slice of purgatory. After introducing herself, she sat down in a chair near the bed. "You have questions. I have answers."

"How long have I been here?" I started. "And why am I so weak? I can't even do much more than move my head. My arms feel like lead and my legs... tell me I'm not paralyzed."

"Mr. Jessup, you've been in a coma." She said. "Your body has atrophied during that time. Movement will be difficult, but everything still works. You are not paralyzed."

"How long Doc?" I pressed.

"Almost a year." She answered.

I sat, dumbstruck. A year. My God. My girls... I started to sob.

"Mr. Jessup, I understand this is upsetting." She comforted. "But with Physical Therapy and time, you should be able to regain most, if not all of your previous strength."

It took me a while to recover. Dr. Cortright waited patiently until I was able to speak again. "I'm more worried about my girls. A year must seem like an eternity to them and if I was down that long, I'm sure there was at least some fear I wouldn't recover, I'm all they have. How...who took care of them?"

She nodded. "There was a time. They haven't been told all the details, just that you were injured and needed to sleep in order to get better. We felt it was better that way. They've been real troopers. We've let them visit but have been very guarded about what they would hear. They know about what you did and are very proud of you. As for their care, the entire town has almost been fighting over who would take care of them. We actually had to have a town meeting to set up schedules. They have been cared for in your home by the most amazing bunch of people I've ever had the privilege to know. Several made offers to adopt them in the event you didn't pull through."

She pulled out her phone and showed me pictures of my casts, now long removed. They were covered in artwork from the girls and their friends and classmates. Get well wishes, how much they loved me and unexpectedly that I was their hero.

"Hero?" I questioned.

"Mr. Jessup." She stated. "If you hadn't stopped that truck, I hesitate to think about how many people, children, would have died. Hero doesn't even come close in my book. You have been a nationwide media sensation since that day. The country has watched and waited to see if you would recover. I'm pretty sure you're going to be very popular once they find out you have regained consciousness. We haven't shared much with the media in order to maintain privacy for you and your girls, but I'm afraid the news has been leaked. I apologize for that and we are trying to find out who talked. We are keeping them at bay for now and the girls have full time escorts. Rest assured, they are safe."

"Do they know I'm awake?" I asked.

"They suspect, but we haven't told them." She answered. "We wanted to wait until we knew you were actually in there and what you wanted to do."

"Can I see them?" I sniffled.

"I'll have them brought in after school, if that's OK?" She smiled.

I nodded, unable to speak as emotions I had barely held in check burst out of me and I sobbed openly.

Dr. Cortright excused herself. "I'll bring them by later and answer any questions they have."

After the doctor left, a nurse came in and gave me something. "This will help you get some rest." She smiled. "You're going to have visitors so you'll need all the strength you can get."

Later, I awoke to movement in the room. It was one of the nurses. She jumped, startled, when she turned around and I was looking at her.

"Sorry." She said. "Needed to check on a few things. Didn't mean to wake you."

"No harm done." I smiled feebly. "Do you know when my girls will be here?"

"They're just outside." She answered. "They wouldn't allow us to wake you. They are very protective of you."

I wasn't surprised by that statement. After what we'd been through together, it went both ways.

The door opened slowly and two angelic faces peeked in. "We heard daddy's voice, Is he awake?"

"I am." I choked back tears. "And I'm very sorry I made you two worry so much."

"DADDY!!" They both screamed, blasting into the room and launching into my bed smothering me with hugs and kisses.

"Careful girls." The nurse chided. "Remember what we talked about."

"Yes ma'am." They responded.

We spent the next couple of hours talking and snuggling together. The girls had so many questions and I did my best to answer them. They told me about how people were always trying to get to them and ask about me and how the local folks had kept them safe and away from prying eyes.

"We were so scared." Amber sniffled.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." I said. "This has been very hard on you and your sister."

"We understand." She tried to smile. "You did it to save us, and everyone else too."

"And I'd do it again." I stated. "You two are my world. I'd do anything to make sure you were safe. Any parent would."

Amber was silent for a moment, then spoke. "What about...?"

"What about what?" I inquired.

"Her... " She frowned.

"Amber!" Lynn chastised.

"It's OK." I intervened. "It's a fair question. I don't really know what she would do. I'd like to think anyone would do whatever was necessary to protect a child, but I just don't know."

"I hate her!" Amber seethed.

Again Lynn reprimanded her sister.

I hugged my obviously distressed daughter and stroked her hair. "Hating her is only a waste of energy. It won't change how she feels and it makes you sad. Don't waste time on what you can't change."

"Yeah." Lynn chirped. "Besides, daddy needs us. We have to help him get better."

Damn, they've grown up a lot in a year.

I was in the hospital for another couple weeks while my physical therapist, a reincarnation of the Marquis de Sade, did what she could to get me in condition to go home. My therapy would continue there. Hopefully in a few months or so, I'd be back to a significant percentage of my previous strength.

In the dark hours of a weekday morning, I was quietly released from the hospital and driven home in a food service van. One of the few vehicles that wouldn't be suspected by the reporters that continually stalked the grounds of the facility.

The girls damn near smothered me once I got home. One if not both of them were with me any time they were awake. I finally had to sit them down and have a chat about it.

"Girls." I started. "I know I've been away for a very long time, and I do love the attention you are giving me, but I want you to do some things together like you used to do before I got hurt. Play games, do fun stuff, be kids. Invite some friends over. I know we can't leave the house because of all the idiots outside, but I need to do things for myself if I'm ever going to get better. I'm home now and I'm not going anywhere. I can't." I joked. "Turtles move faster than me."

They giggled in stereo, the somber mood broken. "Ok daddy." I got a kiss on both cheeks and away they went to be children again. I needed to be more mindful of how this had affected them.

We had 24 hour security with guards posted at our home at all times. More than once, people had tried to sneak in to get pictures of me and I had constant requests for interviews from just about every TV station, magazine and talk show you could name. I was having a hard time understanding all the fuss.

Thing were going pretty good, at least I thought so, until one morning I found a woman sitting in the chair beside my bed. She was around my age, brunette. Hard to get a read on her build as she was seated, but the thing that got me was her eyes. They were intense, almost like they had a fire behind them and the most interesting shade of blue I'd ever seen. Startled, I sat up and reached for the security call button on the nightstand.

"Please don't." She said. "I want to talk to you. Give me 5 minutes. If you don't like what I have to say, I'll leave and never bother you again."

She certainly didn't look threatening and her tone and demeanor were calm and seemingly honest. She made eye contact and though nervous, didn't break it.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, setting the call button down for the moment.

"A lady never reveals her secrets." She smiled demurely. "Let's just say, I was motivated."

"OK." I chuckled. A bold move on her part. "What do you want?"

"Do you like being a virtual prisoner in your own home?" She asked, leaning forward.

"Honestly, no." I answered. "I haven't left since I was discharged. The media would swarm me. Hell, my girls have to have escorts any time they go out. It's just crazy."

"I can fix that." She stated confidently.

"How, if I may ask?" I challenged.

"You need a liaison between you and them, a spokesperson or press secretary." She said. "I would like to be that person."

"And what is in it for you?" I asked, curious.

"While my intentions aren't completely altruistic." She smiled. "I don't want to see you and those sweet girls of yours exploited. They've been through enough already."

"Agreed." I nodded. "Exploited?"

"Yes." She continued. "Out there somewhere is a person whose sole purpose is to make a killing off this story. They'll write a book or a screenplay and make a mint selling it to the highest bidder. They'll portray you as some kind of comic book superhero. Probably get some vacuous Hollywood hunk to play you. The facts of what you did and why will be sacrificed for box office receipts. You won't see a dime. I want to be the one to write that book, the fully authorized version, the whole and complete truth and I'll split the proceeds with you. I'm pretty sure we can both profit greatly from the partnership."

"And why should I trust you, after all, you did break into my home?" I inquired.

"You shouldn't." She grinned. "That's why God invented lawyers. Actually, Satan invented lawyers, but you get the idea. I'll have mine draw up a contract. Have yours look at it. If you like it, we proceed. If not, I disappear. Simple."

She handed me a card with her contact info on it and her lawyer's name and phone number. "I wouldn't wait too long."

Later that day, I contacted my legal council. They'd stepped in when I was out of the picture and had overseen the care of Amber and Lynn and the protection of my assets, so I felt comfortable using them to look into this.

After meeting with my uninvited guest's lawyers, they told me the contract was legitimate and was far more lucrative than the standard agreement. I had full rights on all aspects of the project, complete creative control and could terminate the contract at any time with no penalty. Frankly, they were shocked at how one sided the terms were.

I asked them to bring it by the house and after we'd gone over it and I understood everything. I'd decide if I wanted to sign it.

After the meeting, it was clear, even to me, that I was getting the lion's share of the profits (if indeed there were any) on the project, so I signed it. Retrieving the card with her info on it, I called the number.

"Hello Mr. Jessup." She said. "I hoped I'd hear from you."

"I just signed the contract." I stated. "I think we should meet to discuss, well, everything."

"I can be there whenever you'd like." She said.

"Tomorrow, after the girls leave for school." I answered. "Less questions that way."

"I'll be there." She said.

Shortly after nine the next morning, I walked out of the kitchen and there she sat, on my couch.

"Shit!" I gasped and nearly spilled my coffee. "I assumed you'd knock."

"Can't let anyone see me. Don't want to tip our hand." She grinned. "We have a lot to do and not very long to do it."

"OK." I shook my head. "A bit paranoid, but under the circumstances, I think I understand. What do I call you? The contract completely avoided any mention of you by name."

"I'm Sabrina Newsome." She smiled. "Pleased to meet you, officially, Mr. Jessup."

"Nathan." I said. "Actually, I prefer Nate, your choice."

"OK. Nate it is." She grinned. "Let's get to work. I know most of the details since the event happened. What I need is your past, your history. Why you did what you did? What drives you? Who you are? It's all about the details. The world wants to know if their hero is worthy of their adoration."

"I'm no hero." I started.

"You are not, you are just a man, a father, doing what it took to protect his daughters, but the world sees you as one." She stated. "Tell me about yourself. Let's get the truth out there." She lowered her voice and looked into my eyes. "We need to show them that under the right circumstances, anyone can be a hero. Make it personal. Let people believe that they can be what you are."