Redneck Rich

I worked, putting out one novel and plotting another. I'd fallen into writing about every other novel with nautical themes that people responded well to. I got the taste for it from my book about piracy and profiteering along the South American coast. One critic called me a more refined Clive Cussler, which was kind of funny and completely inaccurate. I'd met Mr. Cussler, and his love for the sea was miles above anything I could conceive. We hit it off to the point he invited me to go on an historical research expedition through his foundation. He'd discovered and raised several shipwrecks and I could think of only one man who could match his knowledge. The Commodore would have loved him. I think he considered his finest achievement to be raising the Hunley, the first Confederate submarine. I was on a deadline and couldn't go and several months later I read about him finding and recovering four historic cannons used in the defense of New Orleans in 1812. I sent a nice wreath when he passed and gave serious thought to doing a book based on some of his exploits but decided to shelve it until a bit more time had passed.

We had been looking into adoption while we were in the States, and now we were repeating the process here. I was beginning to become dispirited about the whole process, then Fi came home from town with two cars in tow. Three people got out in clothes that screamed 'Government Official" in any language. Two more casually dressed ladies got out of the other, opening the back doors and getting out two bundles.

The bundles turned out to be twin girls, just past two years old. They seemed bewildered and frightened and not at all happy. Fi ushered everyone in the drawing room, a place we rarely used, more to impress them than to be comfortable. I had come out of the office and her smile would have powered half of Scotland.

"Ah, here he is. I'd like to introduce my husband, Miles."

I got the name of everyone and shook hands, still wondering what was going on. By now Fi had both girls in her lap, hugging them to her. "Honey, these precious darlings are Cara and Florence. Their parents were involved in a nasty accident and they're alone in this world. I'd like to correct that."

They were there for three hours as we filled out a myriad of paperwork. Finally, the woman in charge shook my hands. "Congratulations. You're a father, on a temporary basis. These girls are placed in your care with future provisions for full adoption. We'll be by to check on them regularly, to make sure they're cared for properly. I have no doubt this will turn out to be a happy day in the lives of these children. Both Lady Fiona and you have a stellar reputation in the community, but protocols must be followed. You'll be under the microscope, so to speak, but there is no doubt in our minds you are up to the challenge. Best of luck and all that."

Then they were gone. Fi looked at me and grinned. "Congratulations honey, it's a girl, or in this case girls."

Then her face turned serious. "I know this is sudden and a bit of a shock, but it was an opportunity I seized. Their parents were killed in a boating mishap, they have no close relatives, and they were about to go into foster care. When I heard the news, I was at their office immediately. For the first time in my life, I used my Ladyship position for something other than charitable work. Please don't be angry."

By now I was holding Cara, rocking her softly as I felt the fear melt from her little body. Fiona was rocking Florence as tears dripped down her cheeks.

"This is sudden, but perfect. So, buck up, old girl. We're in for a long ride."

By now the girls were asleep and we lay them down gently. Then she melted into my arms as tears of happiness streamed down her face.

Ian came home and heard the story. By then the girls were up, wandering around the room, and soon they were quite taken by him, wanting to follow him wherever her went in the house. I thought it was hilarious and he loved it. It took about six months before they understood he was their big brother and they would be waiting at the door when he came home from class and they would be all over each other for fifteen or twenty minutes. They couldn't quite enunciate 'brother', so it became Bubby.

It was another year before Cara came screaming into my office. "Da! Spider! Spider!"

Florence was right behind her, her own eyes huge, grabbing my hand. The 'big' spider was tiny, but it was in their toy box and had to go. Fiona laughed as I scooped it up and carried it outside. I talked to the girls as I did, telling them we shouldn't hurt them and that spiders had a role to play in life. They calmed down but still wouldn't come near it. After they settled back into their playroom, Fiona came to me. "I love seeing you smile when they call you Da."

"They were calling you Mummy inside of two months. It took them five with me. Tells me where I stand."

"You know when she has a choice, Cara prefers your lap. She'll be the Daddy's girl of the set. Florence seems to prefer me, unless she's scared. Then it's all you, Vanquisher of Spiders."

Almost a year after we got them, they officially became Florence and Cara Wallace-Molson.

Ian graduated and entered the University of Edinburgh in the engineering program. His admission was easier that I suspected, the college was ranked sixteenth in the world, but he was a legacy going back two and a half centuries. The course of study was in Sustainable Energy, and he usually got very high marks. Over the course of his studies, he converted almost every building on the estate to solar and wind, always available because of living by the sea.

He graduated with honors and almost immediately went into the Royal Naval College. Once again, he was a legacy. It usually took 39 weeks to complete the course, but he went for some advanced classes that put it to fifty. When he walked across the stage as a commissioned officer, he was carrying the sword the Commodore had given me all those years ago. It got pretty emotional when I gave it to him.

"I can't take that!"

"You can and you will. It deserves to be on your side, to carry the legacy forward. You don't think the Commodore gave it to me to keep, did you? He gave it to me in trust, to be handed over when this minute came. It will be a burden to carry, the history will weigh on you, and I'm sure when it's time to give it to your son and daughter, the weight will be greater."

The highly polished hilt gleamed in the sun. He came home for a short leave before his first posting, on a ship that patrolled the North Sea. Part of his duties were fitting solar panels and small wind turbines on the ship, to ease energy consumption. His designs did so well he got passed from ship to ship, installing systems.

The girls were eight now, and they clung to his legs when it came time to report to duty. He'd sent them postcards from exotic places, along with little gifts. They would write him long letters, detailing every single thing that had happened since their last missive.

I thought things would calm down a little when they hit their teens. Was I ever an idiot. Teenage angst, periods, boyfriends, dates that made me stay awake until they got home, drivers' licenses, I seriously considered sending them to a convent.

Then there would be the good times. The snuggles, the adventures, the travels, made it all worthwhile. My father passed unexpectedly and left my mother at loose ends, so we brought her back home for a visit.

She's been back to the states four times in the last six years, for major family events, mostly marriages for her grandchildren. She did spirit the girls off for the summer, staying in our old lake house. Fi and I enjoyed the freedom, for about a week. By the time they were home I bet they thought we were going to kill them with kisses and hugs.

Mom loved being considered the grand dame of the estate, and picked up the local customs and speech patterns fairly quickly. The only time the veneer slipped was when she and the girls came up on a woman abusing a small child. Her heritage came roaring back and the woman had no counter for Redneck Fu. Mom literally kicked her ass and it took the girls and two constables to get her off the woman. She got charged with assault and public disruption, whatever that was. The woman got charged with child abuse, and she turned around and sued Mom for damages. It's a bit different in Scotland and at first Mom laughed and told her to go ahead, she had nothing of value to take away. Then I got the woman to settle out of court for a small sum, which she immediately spent at the pub and other places, becoming broke quickly.

They took her child, and Fiona stepped in, so the girls had a little sister for about eighteen months. During that time her mother went through counseling for reckless behavior, anger management, good parenting techniques, and alcohol abuse. When she completed the courses, she got Alicia back.

Alicia really didn't want to go back but we had no choice, and both my mother and Fiona drummed it into her to call immediately if things reverted back. Three months later she called Mom sniffling. Her mother had flown into a drunken rage and beaten her pretty badly, and she was hiding at a friend's house, leaving after she passed out. We were in the Land Rover instantly, calling emergency services as we traveled. They got there the same time we did, as well as her mother, who was standing outside screaming in a drunken rage.

Emergency services took one look at Alicia and arrested her mother. Since we were foster parents of record, they released the child to us and we took her home. She left when she went off to university, after she had gone through the courts to have her name changed to Alicia Agnes Wallace-Molson. Her mother had refused to give permission for the name change, but when she reached legal age, there was nothing she could do about it.

It was an estrogen driven environment with two women, two teens, and a preteen in the house and I chose to stay in my office as much as possible. That plan never worked because one or the other always had some issue that required my presence. About the only family member who wasn't demanding was Angus, my Smooth Collie.

Brenda, the mighty sea dog, passed at thirteen, a good age for her breed. Ian was most upset because she had definitely become his dog. We got her a nice stone and interred her on the heights above the sea, so the salt wind would always be in her face.

Six months went by before we decided to adopt another dog and we visited the pounds and top breeders of the area. The girls fell in love with Highland Terriers and got one each. Ian found a Deer Hound at a pound and instantly bonded with him. I found Angus at another shelter. He was 3/4 Smooth Collie, out of a registered dog by a half collie, half mutt and as such was ruined for the breeder, so he donated the litter to the shelter. Fiona found a female Golden Retriever she just had to have, so there was always a dog underfoot.

Fiona was a skilled trainer, and she soon had 'the pack' whipped into shape. All the dogs loved the outdoors and needed a good deal of exercise, so once during the week and every weekend found us on the trails as the dogs ran back and forth, besides the times the kids would spend with them. Angus was more than happy to live in my office, while the terriers would sleep with the girls if we'd let them. The deer hound preferred to sleep outside in his box, even in the worst of weather. The retriever slept at the foot of our bed. No one ever sneaked up on us because Stag, the Deer Hound, let everyone know we had visitors.

When Alicia and Mom came along, the pack got a couple of additions, a Border Collie for Alicia, while Mom got what can only be generously described as a mutt. He was huge, and even the Deer Hound recognized him as the leader of the pack, and God help you if he thought you meant Mom any harm.

The twins finished the Scottish equivalent of high school and opted to attend different universities. Cara chose St. Andrews. Florence chose Aberdeen, pursuing a medical degree.

Five years later it was Alicia's time to go. She surprised us all by choosing Oxford.

Right before Alicia left, I started seeing changes in Fiona, odd personality quirks I'd never noticed before. I think she controlled herself for Alicia, but when she left Fi seemed to go off the rails. She began having temper tantrums of epic magnitude and became violent a couple of times.

I think Mom's passing may have helped trigger it. She died quietly, in her sleep, at seventy-six. Fi found her when she didn't come down for breakfast. We took her home, placing her ashes beside Dad, then we flew back home and placed the small bit we kept in the family plot, so part of her would always be with us. It was her wish and it pleased Fiona no end.

I tried talking to her, tried reasoning with her, but as the months went by it became worse. When she went into a rage and I caught her with a shotgun I'd had enough. I made one last attempt to get her to see a doctor, but the profanity laced tirade made me drop it. She looked at me with venom in her eyes. "I'll be going to the Cavern tomorrow, to gouge out your name. I want no more to do with you!"

It broke my heart but I took her at her word and was gone the next day.

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

Fiona called after two days, railing at me for not being home and demanding I return immediately.

"Not gonna happen. I love you more than words can express, but I refuse to sleep with one eye open, waiting for you to snap. Not if, but when you agree to get a physical and do a couple of counseling sessions, I'll be on the first plane back. Until then, I'm fine where I am."

She was screaming at me when I disconnected. I called all the kids individually, letting them know what was going on. They had all noticed the changes in their mother but never realized it had gotten that bad. The deputized Florence, as a physician, to visit Fiona and see if she could get some insight into what was going on.

I stopped by the lake house for a couple of days. Then I bought an Indian Chief set up for touring, and hit the road. I'd called the kids to tell them what was going on. Then they told me what was happening on the home front.

Ian got emergency leave and the girls met him at the airport. Florence had found her on the floor of our bedroom, holding our wedding portrait, out cold. My face had been ripped to shreds and a big knife was lying beside her. She called emergency services and they took her to the local hospital, before transferring her to a larger facility. All the kids immediately dropped what they were doing and converged at the hospital.

When Cara called me to say she was in hospital, I was on the next plane back.

It seemed my darling wife had a combination of issues that all seemed to be triggered by menopause. I talked to the specialists at length. "She has a severe hormonal imbalance, and she needs thyroid surgery as soon as can be scheduled. She also has breast cancer, but it's in the very early stages and we'll probably just have to remove a few lumps, then monitor her closely. We're also recommending intense therapy, from what your daughter told us she may pose a threat to herself as well as others."

I was reeling. She was under sedation when I got there, and I stayed by her side for twenty hours, before Cara and Florence took over. I got a suite and crashed for seven hours. Ian was there with Alicia when I returned.

"They're going to bring her out of sedation, and they want us there when she wakes."

She came out slowly, her eyes unfocused. When she could make me out, she whimpered and held out her arms and I cuddled her while the kids clustered around, touching her as often as possible.

Fiona got the supplements she needed to keep her hormones in balance, had the thyroid surgery, and went into counseling. Cara was a little angry at me for leaving but her mother put her straight quickly.

"I was out of control, baby. I seriously considered murdering your father there at the end. He was right to leave, and it was the shock I needed. His leaving probably saved us all."

A few months later she had the cancer surgery and is checked every six months like clockwork, but nothing else has shown up. The counseling helped tremendously and I went with her almost every time, something she seemed to need.

The years went by. Ian married a Spanish woman he'd met when he was stationed there, attached to the embassy. It would seem his seafaring days were behind him. She was more than relieved he was on land now, there had been a minor flareup in Africa and he was assigned to a smaller ship to patrol the border. They were attacked by what was later proved to be pirates and the pirates found out pretty quickly it was one thing to attack an unarmed freighter and something completely different to fight someone with superior firepower and more than happy to use it. They blew the pirate ship out of the water, literally. Out of a crew of twenty-six, there was one survivor.

Ian did the interrogation and when the man admitted they were state sponsored, having to give fifty per cent of their gains to the government, things got interesting. The man gave up names, and suddenly the little country was facing the full wrath of the British government, to the extent they were informed as far as Britain was concerned, they were at war.

The branches of the Special Forces converged and launched several successful raids on pirate strongholds, totally destroying three, and then burning any ships in harbor. The Navy blockaded the shoreline and no commerce was allowed through. The country had been a thorn in the side of a lot of countries for a long time and the U.S. offered support, escorting freighters past the coast. Two raids were attempted and both were dealt with extreme force, and they didn't offer to check for survivors.

There was a plan being discussed to invade and riots started in the larger cities, calling for changes in the government. Faced with internal and external pressures, the country folded. The regime was replaced immediately and monitored by an international committee.

In recognition of his part in unraveling the dictatorship Ian was assigned as military liaison to the committee, and when he thwarted an assignation attempt on both the U.S. and British Ambassadors, he was promoted and given medals from both countries. There was a U.S. Captain who did as much as Ian, and they received their medals together and became lifelong friends. Sometimes their friendship was utilized by both countries on issues that wouldn't benefit from public scrutiny. As my family watched Ian receive his medals, his arm still in a sling, I thought about the Commodore. He would have been very proud of his grandson.

The incident led to his new posting, and when the Ambassador was promoted to Spain, Ian went along at his request. He met his wife at a ball hosting by the Embassy. She was minor royalty as well so they found common ground, and soon dinner dates turned into a quiet breakfast. When he proposed he brought her to the estate, and she bonded with all the girls.

The service was conducted by the Ambassador, a retired Naval officer as well, using some obscure law that allowed him to officiate at weddings. There was also a Spanish Bishop present just to make sure things were legal in her father's mind.

They honeymooned at the lake house, and the Yacht Club arranged a reception for them. They considered Ian one of their own, and the opportunity to flaunt a couple from two different Royal houses made sure it was over the top.

He took her to meet my side of the family and although she wasn't sure how to take them at first, they got along famously. She took all the female cousins her age and younger on a shopping spree in New York and they would have killed for her by the time it was over.