Redneck Rich

"Ye'll learn, my darlin' boy, that when a man tells his woman and his child 'we'll see', it means it's practically a done deal."

Pleasure shot through me like a bolt of lightning.

................................................................................

The next day found us at the yacht club for Sunday brunch. I wasn't a member but I knew a lot of them and it was easy to wrangle an invitation, especially when I told them I was looking for a boat. Fiona looked...regal, for lack of a better word, Ian standing tall beside her. I had a feeling if we stayed together, I'd be elevated to the background but that was just fine with me.

We sat at the Governor's table, at his insistence, after he found out who Fiona was. "Your grandfather was well liked, Miss Wallace. He was and is sorely missed."

She thanked him and they started a discussion of her grandfather's last adventure, sailing the Northwest Passage. I smiled, thinking about the documentary due to be released the following month. A large part of it featured her grandfather. The closing scenes were of him, standing at the helm in the gale, his long white hair and beard being whipped by the wind. You could barely make out his words before they were overlayed by a version commissioned just for the film. It was by Fiddler's Green, a very popular Irish band. We asked several groups to submit a version, and the producers (me) liked theirs best. The final scene was a back view of him fighting the helm, keeping her steady on course. The vocals rose powerfully as the screen faded to black, showing his name and date of passing.

After brunch, we walked the harbor, as he showed us several vessels up for sale. I could tell Fiona was not impressed. Then we went into his office and he showed her a few that were for sale locally, and across the Southeast. He showed her one and started to flip past it.

"This one."

I wasn't a boat person but the Governor told me later it was the best of the lot, a 38-footer with clean lines. It even came with a cabin and the couch could be converted into a bed as well. It was a little more grandiose than what I was expecting, but while I owned the bank, it seemed Fiona had the keys to the vault. We looked at it and I wrote a check.

Summer was in by then, and we spent an inordinate amount of time on the water. The sails could be raised with electric motors, but they were hardly ever used. I became a decent fair-weather sailor, but if it got rough Fiona or Ian took the helm.

Fiona and I often went out alone, and one of my fondest memories is making love while a thunderstorm raged and the boat rocked. We were at anchor in a sheltered cove, so we were fine. I wondered later if the explosions I heard that night came out of the storm or the bedroom. It happened that that was the night I gave her a ring. She went pale for a second, then the explosions started happening.

....................................

Before that happened, we went to Canada, for the premiere of the documentary. It was a private showing, mostly for the cast and crew and their families, as well as a few invited guests. I never expected it to be over four hundred people. Before the film started, we were all given a small book, chronicling the voyage and identifying everyone involved in the project, from the crew to all the technical people it took to make the film. The Commodore was on the cover. There was also a flyer asking that if you liked the film to join the cast and crew in standing 'final watch' for Captain Wallace at the end of the film.

I deliberately hadn't said anything about the film to Fiona and Ian because I wanted their earnest reaction. That may have been a mistake. As the film progressed, she got quieter and more still, holding on to our hands so hard I felt the blood stop circulating. When the final credits hit, she collapsed into huge sobs.

The theater went quiet, then a man stood up and started singing along in a high, clear tenor. Others got up in twos and threes and those that knew the lyrics sang along. The military veterans in the crowd stood at attention and all saluted, holding it until the very end. I was holding Fiona up, and looked to see Ian standing railroad straight, holding his own salute even as the tears flowed. The cameras zoomed in to him as the song ended.

When the lights came up every person in the theater passed by Fiona and Ian, sharing hugs, pats on the back, and words of condolence. One tiny woman who had to be in her eighties really got to her when she gave her a hug and stepped back. "Old seadogs never die honey, they just go on a new voyage. You'll see him one day, standing at the helm, waiting to welcome you aboard."

The production company had set up video cameras and recording equipment to film it as a memento to Fiona and Ian, but then begged for permission to release it on YouTube, partially as a tribute, and partially to promote the film. When it came out the BBC and most American channels showed clips of people in theaters where it was showing, standing and singing along. It was especially huge in Canada when they discovered that Nathan Rogers was part of the crew. His father Stan wrote Northwest Passage, and it was so popular in Canada it was considered a second national anthem. He went along on a short leg of the voyage and still talks about it in his live performances. There was a segment where he sat with a lot of the crew, singing old sea shanties.

Captain Wallace was the subject of a Channel 4 documentary, and I was listed as biographer. The film featured a lot of conversations I had recorded, all carefully screened before permission was given, and a year later there was a movement dedicated to getting his likeness on a stamp.

..................................................................

When we finally got back to our suite she was barely out of her clothes before falling into a deep sleep. Ian and I sat for a bit and I asked him what he thought.

"I think I wish I had been with him. Because he lived in the States, I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with him as I would have liked, but when I was around him, I barely left his side. He was quite a man, wasn't he?"

"He's the stuff legends are made of, son. You have a great legacy ahead of you."

Fiona got up before us the next morning and I found her sipping tea on the terrace. "Are you all right?"

She smiled, but it was wan. "Yes. Just a bit overwhelmed. It seems I didn't mourn him nearly enough. My father was absent often, and he's the man I consider my true parent."

Then she sat on my lap and snuggled. "I need to thank you. You never said, but the documentary crew let me know you financed the expedition, saying you wanted it filmed, and most are firmly convinced it was just to give Grandfather his dream. Words can't express my gratitude."

"I did it because I could, and because I knew how much it meant to him. He'd been trying to organize it for years, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"You thought enough of him to spend twelve million dollars on his dream. I'll never forget."

I really didn't like her knowing how much I spent. I could well afford it, and projected numbers indicated I'd make a handsome return. But truth be told, even if it had been a flop, I would have done it.

We spent three weeks at the estate before returning home. Ian slipped back into the joys of youth, with doting parents and a bright future. Thanks to my net worth he'd never have to work if he didn't want to, but I knew he would have some kind of career. He just wasn't programmed to be idle.

Money was finally discussed when she got the ring. "I don't want your money. I've got my own income so I'll never be destitute."

I just grinned. "Don't want my money, honey? Well, I'm afraid I'll have to invoke the TFB clause."

"What in bloody hell does that mean?"

"It stands for Too Fucking Bad. You'll get the money whether you want it or not, and then it goes to Ian. The subject is not up for discussion."

She was still trying to make sounds when I walked away.

My parents and siblings loved Fiona and Ian. Once they became familiar, Mom started with the hints. Fi and I had talked it over. I was 39 and she was 36, and we both thought it would be better if we didn't have children. She'd had a difficult birth with Ian and her doctors urged her not to have any more, saying she could but it would really be dangerous. She cried a little over it. "I always wanted a daughter, and I would have loved one with you."

I waited a year before I offered her an alternative.

In the meantime, we got married. Twice. Once in the States, and once in Scotland. It was important to her, so I had no problem.

Three days later she disappeared for a while and came back grinning like crazy. That night she showed me a picture, taken in the secret cave, showing her name and mine, right beside that of her grandmother and grandfather. "You're mine for life now, my darling."

"You didn't need it carved in stone for that to come true, but I admit it's a nice touch."

....................................................................

My next book was something out of the ordinary for me. It was a biography of Sir Winston Stone Wallace, Captain. That's right, the Commodore was a Lord in the Scottish aristocracy. He laughed about it to me once.

"Back when my ancestors ascended you could practically qualify for a lordship just for putting your pants on correctly and having a few pounds to donate to whatever war was raging at the time. Still, to their credit, my forebears were bonny scrappers."

It was a slim book at 185 pages, but I felt I'd covered the important points. It did reasonably well and sold much better in the U.K. and Canada than the domestic market, but I wasn't concerned with the profit, just the message. I dedicated it to Ian and his mother.

"To my son, Ian Wallace-Molson, and his mother, the love of my life, Fiona Wallace-Molson, honorable descendants of a proud and noble line."

Ian had come to us soon after the wedding, wanting to know if I'd adopt him so all our names would be the same. He was surprised at my answer. "I need you to understand nothing would make me prouder, but I have to remind you that you're the last of the Wallace line. If you take mine the line ceases to exist. If you still want to, we'll start the paperwork tomorrow."

Fiona hugged me fiercely and her finely tuned brain came up with a solution. "Since I married you, my name is Fiona Wallace Molson. I've decided to have my name legally changed to Wallace-Molson, to honor my grandfather. Ian could do the same."

That's exactly what we did, though he goes by Molson at school.

That winter, the Yacht Club organized a Christmas flotilla. Every boat participating had to have working seasonal lights. It was tied into one of their charities and you didn't have to be a member to join in, but you had to pay a fee. Fi and Ian got into it in a big way. They even ran lights up the mast, and had a full-sized Christmas tree at the top. We would be using the engine, so the sails remained furled. Then they were pressed into service to help others, and one of them was Darla.

We saw each other at club functions because my family insisted we join. She and her husband had joined and despite being a lawyer he seemed like a decent man, and had developed a fondness for sailing. He gave her a new boat on their third anniversary that was almost a copy of ours.

They had been married for four years now and Darla had just given him a son. She was a little old for a child but they monitored her health closely and she gave birth to a healthy little boy. That's why Fi and Ian were helping, she was still recovering from birthing. They were a little standoffish at first until Darla got her to sit down for a cup of coffee.

"Look, you know who I am, I know who you are. I know he met you years after we split, so you aren't a replacement. You're his wife now. A good wife, by all accounts. We were just young and dumb, well I was anyway, and when Miles got successful, I let it go to my head. Do I wish I hadn't done it? You bet, for a very long time, before I finally realized I couldn't go back in time and had to look to the future. I dated some pretty bad losers for a while and had just about given up when I met Rick.

I told him everything about our breakup, and he told me the actions of a foolish young girl shouldn't reflect on a mature woman, and if he felt he couldn't trust me we wouldn't be dating. I couldn't get his ring on my finger fast enough after that. I'm happy now and I'm sure you are as well."

Then she giggled. "Is he still like a kid in a candy shop in the sack?"

"Worse."

"You love it, though. Am I right?"

"Very much. He keeps everything fresh and I have no idea from one day to the next what he's up to. It gives me a lot to look forward to."

"So then, I'm his past. You're his future. We never intersected; think you might be interested in being friends?"

Fi hugged her. "I see definite possibilities."

She told me about it later, fifteen minutes before Darla knocked on our door.

"You sure you don't mind? It'll only be for a few hours and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this. A chance to get to talk to grownups without keeping one ear open for his crying will be heaven. Oh, hi, Miles. I was just leaving."

She shoved the baby carrier into my hands, gave Fi a kiss on the cheek, and was gone.

I looked down at the sleeping infant. "What was that all about?"

She grinned. "Oh, I didn't tell you? We're babysitting so Darla and hubby can attend his company Christmas party. They'll be back by midnight at the latest. Give him to me."

It was a command so I obeyed. Ian and I grinned a she rocked the child, cooing to him in a soft voice. Then she made Ian hold him while she warmed a bottle, and made me feed him. "Practice for our grandchildren and learn from this."

it was fun, but when he was done, I handed him to Fi, and she walked him, rubbing his back until he burped, then curled up her nose. "Typical. What goes in, comes out. Grab the diaper bag, luv."

Ian took one whiff and bolted. It kind of smelled like toxic waste, but Fi just smiled as she changed him, then told me to get rid of the used diaper. I held it gingerly by one corner all the way to the trash, while Fi giggled.

They came back a few hours later and Darla was giggling like crazy. Fi took one look, grinned, and told me to go make coffee. Rick wandered along behind me and looked back to see them on the sofa together, whispering and smiling.

"Wonder what they're talking about?"

"You're a lawyer, right? How long you been married? Surely by now you know the first thing married women talk about is their husbands, followed by their children. When those are exhausted, they turn to the next thing that's always on their mind. Sex. I have memories of that giggle Darla uses. You're getting laid tonight."

He seemed kind of shocked before grinning. "She just got cleared to resume her 'wifely duties' as she puts it. I only hope Junior stays asleep long enough to let us get reacquainted."

I had to smile. "Leave him here. Darla brought a bag with enough formula and diapers to last a month. I'd be in the dark here but Fi is an excellent mother and she'd kill for the chance to keep him."

"Really?"

"Yes, Counselor, really. Go home and try to break the bed."

It would seem that the ladies were discussing the same subject, and after about twenty-seven kisses to her son, she kissed both of us and whispered. "I'd never admit it to Rick, but I think you traded up."

He was grabbing her ass all the way to the car.

I don't think Fi slept that much, constantly up checking on the baby. I got up once to see her staring down, rubbing his cheek, with tears in her eyes. Time to have the discussion.

They came back the next morning, Darla looking a little worse for wear, little bites visible under her top. Rick just looked exhausted, with a pretty good scratch on his neck. It didn't matter how far behind you got, I speculated, you can pretty much get caught up in one night.

Fi moped around for a few days but got distracted by the Christmas Flotilla. A lot of money was raised to make Christmas better for a lot of disadvantaged families. We got to have a good time.

Ian was fifteen now, and he had a 'date' with him. I don't remember fifteen-year-olds ever looking like her, the way she filled out that sweater was kind of hard to believe. She was a good kid though, even if they did spend most of the flotilla snuggled under a blanket, necking when they thought we weren't looking.

She seemed depressed after we got home. We left the young lovebirds in front of the large fireplace and retreated to the den, with instructions to not leave the room. "He's growing up so fast! Soon he'll be off to Uni and we'll have an empty nest."

I grinned. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I know we decided to forgo having children naturally, but they don't have to be homemade. There's a lot of kids out there that need a loving home. I'd like a daughter if we decide to adopt, I don't think a boy could measure up after Ian."

Her eyes glittered with tears. "If we got a boy, you'd love him every bit as deeply as you do Ian. But I like your idea of a little girl. Are you sure? How young should we go? I'm fine with a newborn or even a teen, but I'd like to keep them a little longer. Do you think..."

I put my fingers to her lips. "I think I should have brought this up sooner. I vote for the smaller the better. I've even put some feelers out. We'll look into it after the holidays."

I think it was one of the finest holidays on memory.

.............................................................................

Then Ian came to us, wanting to talk. "I've thought about this a lot. I want to follow in the footsteps of my grandfather, and become a naval man. I'd like to go into the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth as soon as I get an undergraduate degree. To do that I have to go to school there, so I guess what I'm trying to ask is if you'll send me to boarding school so I can be in place to proceed."

"This is really what you want?"

"I've thought about it a lot. This is really what I want. I really, really don't want to go to boarding school but I see no option."

"Let me see if I can't work something out." Fi was crying quietly, mourning her nest being empty too soon. There was no doubt we were going to do what was right.

What was right was moving back to Scotland. Fi wasn't attached to any career, and all I needed was a quiet space and a laptop, and I could work anywhere. We went over for a farewell dinner with my folks and there were quite a few tears. Then one of the nieces asked if I was leaving Brenda behind.

She had immediately overthrown me for Fiona as the one who she loved most, and Fi would laugh about it while she stroked under her chin and whispered to her. The fickle bitch ate it up. Ian was higher on the affection meter than I was, and we almost changed her name to Sea Dog because of the way she seemed to like the boat. She'd stand on the bow, the spray soaking her, her lips in the rictus of a doggie grin, for as long as we stayed out.

"Sorry Chrissie, but she's going with us."

There was a big going away party for us at the yacht club, even though I explained we would definitely be spending most of our summers here. Darlene and Fi had become good friends and they cried all over each other as they said goodbye.

Two days after the party we closed up our lake house and jumped the pond.

........................................................................................

Ian got into a premiere school that he could attend while still living at home, and soon the bonny young lassies were smitten by the tanned, muscled teen. A few parents pushed their daughters towards him, hoping for an advantageous marriage. Fi laughed at my outrage. "It's a worldwide habit, I'm afraid. Arranged marriage in one form of another still exists. I guess some customs never die." He and the three girls made peace with it and flaunted their friendship in their parent's faces.