Just Accept It - An Homage

They were stating to run down. Grandma was experiencing arthritis in her joints. Laura was recovering from three different STD's. In addition to that, she had four abortions in the intervening years. Seems like waitressing was not her only means of generating cash. And her looks were suffering. Her blood pressure was up, cholesterol and blood sugar levels spiking. She was pushing thirty-eight, and not in a good way.

Occasionally, their mother would go on line on one of several different websites, looking. Looking. Looking, but not finding.

She was beaten, deprived of a reason for living. She cursed her ex-husband, her mother, but most of all herself. She had been a fool. Now look what it had gotten her. She wept. Frequently.

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Chumphon, Thailand

So here I am ensconced with the Hardy girls (on account of there only being one Nancy Drew). They were into the search big time, because of the broken leg, and also because of their uninhibited interest in their mother. They began by building files on one 'Laura Swanson', aka 'Laura Jeffers'. She was now 38, and had been divorced for six years. She was working as a waitress, pulling down approx. $600 a week, plus tips. They had a readout for a hidden account in her daughter Lily's name. To the tune of $12,700. Trying to hide it from the IRS. She had had no longstanding romantic entanglements, and went from work to home. She had several dalliances at the strip club and at a nearby no-tell motel which accounted for the promiscuous nature of her existence. But that was it.

There were several legal actions against her for debt collection. She had several inquiries out concerning the whereabouts of her children and/or her ex-husband. Mostly they were on-line sites that promised results finding missing people-for a price. She didn't have that kind of money, so it was basically reading and looking. A couple of teasers about her kid's location to try to get cash form her. But the closest they got to being 'close' was a reported siting in South Africa. For a mere $250,000, they would put her onto someone who could tell her more.

Yeah, right.

So the day that Lucy got her cast off, (courtesy of the gorgeous Dr. Damond), my girls came up to me after dinner and laid out all their info. They were very well versed in their mother's life and escapades, and suffice to say, they were not impressed.

"We follow her on line and in her tweets and posts. Da, she is bitter. We understand that. But she constantly bad-mouths you and blames you for everything. She takes no responsibly for the situation", said Lucy. I looked at my daughters, and felt the deepest grief and regret for what had been thrust upon them. Then they hit me with an idea.

"Could we take the money from her 'fake' account and steal it?" they asked in unison.

I thought for a moment. Tempting as it was, I didn't want to turn my daughters into thieves. Then I had a better idea.

"How about if we inform the IRS about her money, instead of stealing it? That way, she gets in trouble, but we are in the clear."

I could see the two minds turning the thought over and the moment they clicked on it, two faces exploded with grins.

"Cool, da. Even better" said Lucy.

"That's evil, da," said Janie, chuckling.

"We can be like FBI agents, sending the evil witch lady to jail for tax evasion."

What have I done? I've created two monsters. (Heh, heh, heh.)

Time passed. Six more years, as a matter of fact.

With the cast off, the girls were back to pretty much normal, excelling in their academic life, and on the soccer field, and they both enjoyed having Dr. Damond around.

Or, as they referred to her in private, dad's 'hot French girlfriend'. We went to several school functions and the doctor drew lots of stares. But she didn't care. We WERE exclusive. (I think.)

After the hospital Christmas bash when a couple of her male colleagues got shot down after trying to put the moves on her, we became an 'item'. She moved in with me, and the girls immediately grafted to her. She took them in hand and they started to share their 'mother's' exploits with her. We, she and I, also had a long talk where I laid out the story.

The IRS found Laura's secret stash (how 'bout that) and she was looking at jail time. I contacted my buddy Mark who was the executive behind my escape, and he sent some pictures and letters to Laura showing our lives in the tropics. Nothing to indicate where, just to jerk her chain a little. By the looks of things on the Facebook pages, she went ballistic and had to be sedated and hospitalized.

She had a female public defender who got her a deal with the IRS and she lost all the money in exchange for not charges being filed. I don't know how she paid HER, but I could guess.

The girls turned 18 and were thinking of college. They wanted to travel first, so the good (not TOO good) doctor suggested we go to France to meet some of her family. We were very much in love by now, and I was looking to propose.

"We could make it a combination vacation and honeymoon, Mon Cher" she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "If I wait for you to propose, I will be a shriveled up old women on pension."

Wow, I guess I'm getting married. At least I don't have to.

"And any longer and my clothes won't fit me" she added, giggling.

UUHHHH.

When I said we should ask my daughters, and see what they thought, she smirked. She called them in from the pool area, and told them we we going to France after graduation with their new little brother. She was smirking all the time she was saying this. The girls were ecstatic.

"HE SAID YES!" they yelled, grabbing and hugging each other. Then they hugged Dr. Damond. Then they tackled me.

"Oh Mom, we're so happy for you two" said Lucy. Then the two of them looked at me.

"It's about time, da," they crowed in unison.

So it was agreed that we visit France and have a nice vacation, and they would babysit their little brother while we, 'AHEM', discussed world events.

(Giggle, giggle!)

"But how do you know the sex......"

"I am a doctor, Cherie. I have had all kinds of tests run and the boy is perfectly healthy. In about 5 1/2 months. It puts his birthday at approx. mid March. Then 5 months till August and we can go see the sights. Then we can go to California and put this charade to rest.

"If you go to the Australian Embassy, I am fairly sure you can get diplomatic immunity from them due to the 'clandestine' nature of some of your recent assignments. Then she can 'pound salt' as you Americans say. The girls can have closure, and you can lord it over her with your 'new' wife. And child. What do you think, my love??".

O.K., stunned doesn't even enter the picture.

I wasn't sure I had anything to say about this. Not that I would change anything, but, you know, it would be nice to be asked. Seems like I have had my life planned for me, by the three women I love most. I had long since come clean to Yvette about our 'situation'. At first she was shocked. About my wife's actions. Then the typical European attitude took over and she was incensed that Laura could have treated me like that.

It could be worse, I suppose. Yeah, she knew everything, backed up by the girls and their dossier on the skank. (I still don't have anything nice to say about my ex-wife, but it was till a cut about how my daughters referred to her.)

So that's what we did. With a blind eye to the burgeoning baby bump, Father Armand united us in holy matrimony. He had heard my confession quite a while ago, when the girls first started asking questions. He heard it again, sighed, and then absolved me of any new sins I had committed, but admonished me that to make a clean and clear conscience, I should make some type of reparation or amends. Otherwise, he was worried about how it would work on my soul.

The girls started to apply to colleges. Lucy had an interview with Stanford and Janie one with UCLA. Yvette had a rather stressful labor, and seeing as how she was almost 40, she suggested and we decided she should have her tubes tied. A blood clot ensued after surgery and she was rushed back into the operating room. They treated it, repaired it and she was in ICU for three days, and in the hospital for an additional ten. When she was released, the crowd of well wishers was immense, for such a small hospital. She was very popular. She and the baby.

Me?

Well, I was there.

We recuperated at home, lazing on the beach and soaking up the sun. The baby grew and flourished. Mommy healed, and looked better and better everyday. She could rock a bikini, and it being Thailand (and she being French) loved to go topless.

I went to the Australian Consulate and talked to their version of the CIA, Jack Woods. I had done some work for him and the Aussies over the years, nothing James Bond type, just hacking, actually. But he liked me. We went to a local bar and the discussion was very enlightening.

"So, Micheal, or should I call you Henry??"

Oh, SHIT!!

"I'm confused, Jack. My name is Micheal. Micheal Davies. From Queensland."

"Yes, well, you are now. In the eyes of the Australian government. But we have known who you were since you showed up in Thailand. Your 'friend' got your identities from our government before you left America. We've known about you since you arrived. We knew your story and the 'higher ups', as they say, felt you could be an asset. Mark vouched for you and you were reliable. So we watched you, protected you and helped you out. Then we contacted you for a 'small favor' and you helped us out. One hand washes the other, as they say. So, what do you want from the government?"

WELL.

The conversation went on, but Jack Woods was having a hard time not chuckling at my thunderstruck response to the new facts in my life. I told him what we wanted to do, and why.

"No worries, Micheal. Canberra's got you covered. You will be a minor agent of the Australian State Department, living in Thailand. It should protect you, but I would advise not getting in touch with your ex-wife. The girls, no problem. They are 18 years old, Australian citizens and are mature adults. Your wife has dual citizenship, by virtue of her French birth, and marriage to you. Your divorce was legal, because she filed under abandonment. Naughty, Micheal. But it is legal. So return to America and get some closure. We will be watching you." I shook his hand and got up and left.

Next stop- Paris, France.

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I booked four adult, first class and one child on Air France, to Charles DeGaulle Airport. Twenty hour in the air, give or take, non-stop. At least the traveling companions would be nice. We left and a day later, we arrived, bushed and jet-lagged, in France. But once off the jet-way, my wife, daughters and son were wide awake and rejuvenated by the presence of her family.

My new mother-in-law, father-in-law, a new brother-in-law, and two new sisters-in-laws were waiting with signs and balloons. Father-in-law was an attorney, mother -in-law was a pediatric surgeon, and her brother was french Surete (detective branch of the French police) Her sisters were graduate teachers, but none of her siblings were married, nor had children. So Yvette was now the #1 child, having produced 3 grandchildren (with a little help from yours truly).

The greetings was boisterous and effusive for everyone. Then I was introduced and you could hear the crickets. Yvette's mother looked me over with an appreciative eye, as did her two sisters. Her brother stood stone faced and appraised me. But it was her father. The look I got was piercing and cold. Dead man walking, I believe is the term.

I stood there, holding my son.

He walked up to me and I held my ground. I swallowed hard and was about to piss myself, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed the look of glee on my new wife's face, which was quickly hidden by a non committal frown.

Sandbagged, again.

I turned back to the patrician looking gentleman.

"Hi, Dad," I said. He scowled.

Uh, oh. Then he spoke.

"So, monsieur, you are the 'person' who seduced, defiled, and corrupted my Yvette?"

Then his glare shifted to our son. His glare softened to a huge grin.

"And I assume this is my petit fils?"

Little Micheal Jacques Richard Davies took over. He started giggling and reached out and grabbed the esteemed man's handlebar mustache. Grand pere Damond's eyes widened and broke into laughter and scooped little Mike from my arms.

"I must say, monsieur, you have excellent taste. In wives and in children. Welcome to the family, Micheal. And you too, Micheal," he added to an astounded me. I looked to a beaming Grand mere Damon and by her side, my teary eyed wife, and my hysterical daughters. Well, I guess I'm okay in their eyes.

We made it to the Damond's spacious home, and were treated to a fantastic dinner. As jet-lag caught up with us, we retired for the night. I fell asleep with this delightful French doctor curled up on my chest, humming quietly to herself. I awoke to the same gorgeous physician licking and suckling my manhood awake.

"Oh, good morning, my wonderful husband. Are you busy, Mon Cher??" she snickered.

I grabbed her and picked up and slid her over my cock. After all, he was wet and cold, thanks to someone slobbering all over him. Her moans and groans immediately echoed around her former bedroom, and soon we were oblivious to the rest of the world. As she screamed her climax (drowning out my growl of release as I exploded into her vaginal cavity), she whimpered and collapsed on my chest.

As I came down with her and was caressing her beautiful black hair, a sedate knock on the bedroom door, followed by the sweet voice of my new mother-in-law announcing that if we were interested, breakfast was in ten minutes, about blew the two of us, blushing and laughing, out of bed. Yvette kissed me and threw my t-shirt and jeans to me, saying, "Get dressed, my love. And don't be embarrassed. This is, after all, France."

We came down stairs and there were my daughters, eating croissants and fussing with their brother, while my in-laws were laughing. Lucy looked up as we came into the kitchen area, and smirked.

"So, did you two solve the world's problems?"

Janie chimed in: "I understand that the U.N. wants to hear your thoughts on hunger solutions. I think the rest of the world have already heard them."

There was silence.

Then the four of them broke down laughing and howling. I noticed that my very sophisticated wife was blushing all the way down into the cleavage on her blouse. Her ears were red and she was very embarrassed. I turned to the table and said, "It was the T.V." They roared even louder, her parents joined in with a vengeance

Yvette looked at me, and I sat next to her and took her hand. She turned and looked at everyone else.

"I am sorry for the outburst in the bedroom. I was very aroused by being home, in my old room, with the only other man I have ever loved. I make no........". Her mother cut her off.

"Cherie, he is your husband. When your younger sister finally moved out, I cornered your father, stripped naked, and led him upstairs. We seldom wear clothes now, when we are alone. And we make a LOT OF NOISE."

"MAMAN!! Too much information," shrieked Yvette, blushing again.

Her dad was grinning and I think he was squeezing his wife's thigh under the table. My daughters were now the embarrassed ones. I was starting to grin when my wife looked at me and slugged my shoulder.

"This is all your fault!! You started this because I love you so much." She couldn't hold the anger any longer, though, and started to laugh. She leaned over and kissed me. "You will pay for this- again- tonight, and for the rest of your life."

Her father smiled and applauded. Her mother got up, came around, and kissed me. I know now where her daughter got her talents from. Wow! What a kiss. My daughters were giving us thumbs up. Our son was munching croissants with jelly and totally oblivious to everything else.

Actually, I should refer to Lucy and Janie as 'our' daughters. They had bonded with Yvette, even after some serious disagreement about how to handle the meeting with their 'mother'. The referred to Yvette as mom, or 'ma' in reference to me being 'da' and loved her no end. But they had nothing but contempt for Laura. Yvette was a good influence on them.

She talked to them about their feelings, and that their mother obviously had many 'issues'. She did not want the girls to become like their biological mother. The girls were almost nineteen now. Fifteen years they were gone from her.

"Girls, your father did what he thought was best. He may have had selfish motives, what with the ultimatum your mother dropped on him, but he did the best he could. At worse, he kept you from growing up like her. At best, he gave you a beautiful life. And if he hadn't done what he did, I would not have you. So weigh all these things against how you will treat her when you confront her. Because confront her you will. You MUST. You have to put these issues behind you, Mon filles. Otherwise, you are no better than her. And I KNOW you are better than her. Your pere has seen to that".

They were mad at her at first, thinking she was taking their mother's side against their father. But they talked to her about it. They came to realize she was right. They didn't want to be like their mother. They agonized over what these revelations meant. They would revise their confrontation with Laura. And they realized that Yvette was a whole hell of a lot better than Laura. As a wedding present for my wife, I had adoption papers drawn up so we could be a complete family. Yvette was blown away when I presented them to her at the rehearsal dinner. She couldn't sign fast enough. The girls were stunned; they had never thought of this. Well, I guess I was one up on them, for a change.

We did all the touristy things- the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the left bank of the Seine, Notre Dame Cathedral, and ate at sidewalk cafe's. Even took a side trip to the Palace of Versailles, southwest of Paris. We had to force Gran pere and Gran mere to watch little Micheal (yeah, right) and I swear to God he was almost fluent in French when we came home three days later. I was confident that Mikey was in good hands. Plus, they were his grandparents.

We stayed in France almost four weeks, and then booked seats to Los Angeles on Air France. 5,646 miles, 10 hr. 41 min. by air. Another long haul. The flight was uneventful. Lots of sleep, a throw down movie (not memorable in any way) and some decent French food. After all, it was Air France. We landed in LAX and proceeded to customs. That's when the shit got interesting.

We were met at customs by an attractive young lady and two serious looking gentlemen. She introduced herself as Jennifer Torrance, from the U.S. State Department. The took us to a side room, and there were two gentlemen sitting, waiting.

As we walked in the guys rose and extended their hands to me. They introduced themselves as Alex McChord and James Lawson. They were attached to the Australian Consulate.

"Jack Woods says hello, Mr. Davies. He asked us to 'help you out'. We have already checked out your rental in Malibu and talked to the admissions people at Stanford and UCLA. They are expecting you. The rest of your sojourn is in your hands. Jack told us a little bit about what you are going to do. We have your back. Just don't do anything stupid, sir. The lady from the American state Department needs to talk to you, however." Alex grinned and turned to take a seat.

He had turned the conversation over to Jennifer Torrance.

"Mr. Davis, you are a very interesting individual. Why would a minor Australian diplomat be of such interest to the U.S. Government. Could it be your French borne wife? Or your three children??"