The Renaissance Man Pt. 05

Story Info
The wedding dance.
9.8k words
4.86
16.7k
50
18

Part 5 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 10/19/2019
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Part 5 The Wedding Dance

Trish and I got James and Cathy's luggage out of her sister's car and put it into our Ford Explorer before we sat down for the usual Malley Sunday dinner. It amazed them to learn that we were God's parents to two small babies that shared our name. Dan and Carla briefly explained how we met. I noticed that James accepted it without question, but Cathy did not. I thought I might be learning something about my Aunt I did not know.

We were driving back to our home when I got asked by my aunt "Scott can Trish and you afford the responsibility of raising kids when you're just starting out?"

Trish saw me get a huge smile on my face as I replied. "Aunt Cathy I learned young watching the two of you struggle to build a better life for yourselves while raising children. Even when you couldn't afford it you would give and do more than you should have. I guess Trish and I have those same values."

Since it was already dark when we were heading home, I knew the timer would have turned some lights on. Driving past the front of my property my aunt commented on the cuteness of the little cottage.

I told Trish I was going to park at the front of the house and unload the luggage from there. When my aunt realized we were pulling into the cottage she was surprised to see just how large it was.

"What you see from the main road is the side of the house from the second level," Trish explained. "Scott designed it that way to give him privacy. Crooks looking to break in will drive past this."

I popped the trunk and handed the keys to Trish. My uncle James commented your house key is an electronic lock. He and I got the suitcases out and followed the ladies in.

James followed me as we took their suitcases up to the second floor into what had been my bedroom. He was blown away by the size of it and commented that he couldn't rent a hotel suite as nice as this. When we had come back down Trish had poured us some drinks. With them, in hand, she gave James and Cathy the royal tour of the top two levels.

"I understand the need for the electronic locks," James said. "The antique furniture here is outstanding.

"Uncle James," Trish said, "Most of this was bought on the cheap and restored by Scott himself but there is one set I value in the house more than anything else."

She handed me her drink and clapped her hand. The Hungarian carousel began playing catching their attention.

"I met Scott for the first time in my life trying to buy them and they were not in this condition," Trish said emotionally. They were a set of three. Scott is still working on restoring the third one."

"Your sister Terry sent us the videos of how you connected," Cathy said. "We have watched it over and over again."

We were relaxing in the living room talking about things on my side of the family lives. I texted Trish to go get one of my new books.

Trish slipped into the office and got one placing it in a gift bag and came back out.

"Cathy do you still do your reading by from the local library?" I asked.

"All the time, the only set of books I have ever bought is by the silent one." She said. "Those books are about real-life like situations and not designed for the faint of heart. How he can go from cold and distant to loving and warm with his characters is something rarely seen. The depth of his character development in his writings and the journey with it is a pleasure to see developed through till the end. You can't help getting emotional when reading his books, for they seem to draw you in."

"Aunt Cathy this is a gift from us to you," Trish said handing it to her.

Trish and I watched as my aunt opened up the gift bag taking the tissues out to discover the book. Uncle James had to hold her tight as she came to terms with what she was seeing. The book would be coming out at the start of the next month.

"Aunt Cathy don't feel embarrassed we all reacted like you when Scott did it to us," Trish said. "The day after we got engaged."

"Trish," Cathy said. "You don't see it. Scott in each of his books has been slowly healing from the shame, the loneliness, the pain, and the tears brought upon him because of his parent's and society's view of the situation at that time. When he writes an emotional scene out, he's bringing understanding to what happened to him in the past. At the age of seven, his childhood ended."

"Scott had to become a man in every sense because he no longer had a mother or fathers support him. The reason the farmer to the north was such a good friend is that he taught Scott how to work things out in his mind just like an adult would. It was he that gave Scott the tools he needed back then to survive. It also explains why your Scott my Albert took his last name."

Trish gasped she had never put it together. What Scott's aunt said made sense. Her Scott had been forced by circumstances to grow up long before biologically it made sense.

"The kids he had to go to school with were told to cross the street if they saw him walking towards them. Even as an innocent child he was to be publicly shunned. Hell, even his legal guardian's limited their association with him because of the public's views," Cathy said.

"The neighbor to the north who became his best friend saved him from a beating he was getting because of what his father had done. Some of them were his own cousins. I never understood until now why I never saw Scott cry." Cathy said with authority.

Trish was shocked. She looked at me as if she was seeing me in a new light. She grabbed my hand.

"Billy and Bobbie worship the ground you walk on because of the way you relate to them," Trish said. "I never understood that behaving like a kid and playing with them is giving you something you never had. Through their eyes your learning what it was like to be a normal kid."

"One of the first things the neighbor to the North Peter Robert Tait taught me was that in the walk of life we all end up experiencing the same things in different ways at different times in our life," I explained. "How we handle it molds us into what we are.

"The reason no one saw me cry was that he taught me to hold it in until I was alone. Crying was normal, it was part of the grieving and healing process. But to do it in front of those who were trying to harm or hurt you would be giving victory to them and that was what they wanted. Once I learned that it wasn't long until the kids left me alone." I explained.

"I have often wondered where your mental toughness came from," said James. "With what I saw you going through I tried to get you to open up and talk but you always held it in. I now understand why. Peter, in all honesty, taught you what most of us had to learn the hard ways for years."

"Peter Tait taught the little boy to be a man," Cathy said. "It fortified you in many ways. That's allowed you to accomplish what you have in life. If it became public knowledge, it would prove to all of them still around that you're a better man than all of them. I hope you are proud of your life because you should be. I know I am."

Shortly after that, we called it a night.

Trish and I were lying in our bed cuddling unwinding from the day. It had been an epic day.

"I hope you were pleased with your birthday party," Trish said.

Getting no answer, she looked up at me to discover that I was quietly crying.

"It's the first time I have celebrated it since I was seven. I found everything everybody did completely overwhelming." I said. "I don't know how I was able to make it through the day."

"You're stronger than you realize," Trish said. "It's clearly apparent in everything you do. You being you carries me. In all that I do."

--------------------

Trish called in and was granted the week off by the new supervisor of her department her best friend Jennifer. I call the attorney general and got permission to use banked hours unless something major came up. Trish and I made our guest a breakfast of omelets, bacon, and pan-fried potatoes. After getting dressed we took them for a tour of our estate. Leaving through the back of the garage to the outside.

Behind the double row of Canadian hemlock was another world. Trish took great pride in showing off our woodworking shop with numerous items in the stages of being restored. My uncle James was really impressed. So much so that we spend a whole day working out there together before he left. Then it was into the warehouse where we stored the items purchased or repaired for distribution in the days before Christmas. The third building was my car collection of which totaled out at twelve.

I explained that this year we would have twenty rented trucks making ten deliveries each on the evening of the twenty-fourth until they were done. Each truck would have three people in it, and they would receive a thousand dollars each for working that night in cash. For some of those receiving the gifts, it would be the best Christmas they ever had. Each drop was designed for their individual needs.

James and Cathy stayed for four days. I really enjoyed their visit. I had Pat send me by overnight courier a few more copies of my book.

On Thursday Helen called need a favor it was her assistant's birthday and she wanted to do something special. Amy Witt her unmarried assistant was celebrating her birthday and because of what was going on she had forgotten about it. Trish and I agreed to take out for an extended lunch.

Over lunch, we got into a great discussion about the silent one's work. Trish was shocked at how much she knew and the questions that were left unanswered. It was her thought that although each one was a stand-alone story. Each one could have a sequel.

When the time allowed it, I slipped away to use the men's room. Then I slipped out to sign a copy of the book 'Tearstained Buttercup Eyes' We lost track of time and it was almost three o'clock in the afternoon when we got her back. She had been gone for three hours. We escorted her back in carrying a little gift bag.

Amy went back to work and I went into Mom's office giving her the bag suggesting she wait till the end of the day to give it to her.

Helen waited until it just about checked out time to call Amy into the office. As soon as she was through the door Helen said, "Best close the door behind you and take a seat."

"Okay, what's up?" Amy asked as she sat down.

"I wanted to give you the second part of your birthday present," Helen said. "But first of all, I wanted to hear about your luncheon with my future son in law and my daughter."

"Scott and I kind of took over the conversation when I said my favorite author was the Silent One," Amy said. "He has such an immanent understanding of the author's writing. I was surprised how eager he was in hearing what I had to say and what my views were. I guess we got carried away because it was such a stimulating conversation. He not only listened to my opinions but would ask me what had made me come to that conclusion. It was nice to have someone truly value what I had to say. I'm sorry for getting back so late."

"That's great to hear," Helen said as she placed the gift bag in front of her.

Amy removed the tissue and took out the card. Inside were two invitations, one for the book revealing party, and the second for the wedding and reception. She couldn't understand why the book revealing was included because she would be working it. Helen was pleased to see the expressions running through Amy's face. She was already thrilled to death. Amy reached in and pulled out the gift box. Opening up the top she discovered it was the book she been counting the days down until she could purchase it. Helen knew she was having a hard time believing it.

"Open it up and read out loud what is written inside," Helen suggested.

Amy turned the first couple of pages until she found it. "Trish and I really enjoyed our discussion with you this afternoon. I thank you for the stimulation and insight you have given me. I hope we can do it again soon. Signed James Scott Tait the silent one."

Amy lost it just as Helen figured she would. In four days, the book would be released Scott's secret would be out in the world. When she had suggested this to Scott, he hadn't hesitated when he learned that meeting him was Amy's biggest dream.

It was his idea to do it this way. She now saw the wisdom in his thinking. It had allowed Amy to be herself and not be intimidated because of who he was. Amy had opened up freely in a frank way discussing what she loved about his writings and the need for questions to be answered because of them.

Amy lifted the book over and turned to look at the picture on the back cover. She was clearly in a very emotional moment. Helen understood it was helping Amy to accept what had transpired.

"I had a three-hour discussion with a man I have dreamed about meeting for years," Amy said. "And for the next four days, I can't tell a soul about it. How did you do it?"

"It was the day of our anniversary that they got engaged. The very next day my daughter Trish and I learned who he was in the same manner as you just did," Helen explained. "You really can't tell anyone because they wouldn't believe you if you did."

"Any suggestions on how I can explain the glow, the excitement and the thrill I will have on my face when I get home," Amy asked. "My mother is going to question me about what happened to cause that until she's blue in the face."

"You can tell that you went for lunch with them," Helen said. "but not anything else."

It was after the not so surprising birthday surprise party was over that Amy had gone to the privacy of her bedroom to start reading her favorite author's latest book. Being the last child at home her mother always went overboard and would until she got married. She had just opened the book when her mother knocked at the door.

"Amy can I come in for a moment," She asked. "There is an old picture that I want you to take a look at."

"Sure Mom," Amy said as she slid the book under the pillow just before her mother started walking in.

"The last few years of my father's life were very hard for him in a lot of ways. Yet he refused to leave the family farm he had grown up on. He wanted it to remain in the family until his death." Her mom explained. "There was a very young mature farm boy who was older mentally than his years who stepped in and helped my Dad as much as he could.

"The older the boy got the slower my dad got but they bonded tighter than anyone I know. It was as if the young boy was the son that my father never had. They both shared a deep love for wood and antiques. My father said it was like seeing his soul alive in another."

"My Dad had no son so gladly passed on his knowledge to Albert. It was Albert who finally convinced my dad who was now eighty-three-year-old it was time he went into the nursing home. For the next year, he kept the farm up for my Dad on his own without being asked." Amy's mother explained.

"On Albert's sixteenth birthday he came into the nursing home to say goodbye. He had been legally declared by the state as an adult and he had gotten the state court to approve his name change. Albert had changed his name to James Scott Tait."

"When Albert said goodbye, it was because he was leaving to build himself a new life without the stigma of his family's past. When you told me, you had met your boss's daughter and future son in law I didn't put it together. Do you recognize someone besides your grandfather in this picture?"

Amy stared at the picture for a few minutes before saying a word. "Mom I am going to let you answer that for yourself."

Amy turned and reached under the pillow getting the book. Before she brought it out, she turned in over so only the back cover of it could be seen. There was no longer any doubt. Albert the boy was now the man named James Scott Tait.

"Amy the wooden carved bust of my father's face that sits in the living room that still gets compliment because of the skill and the details put into it." Her mother said. "Albert gave that bust to my dad the day he left. He had used Dad's carving tools for the detailed work."

"For years I have been storing all of Dad's homemade curving tools in the garage. It was dad's dying wish that Albert gets them because to anyone but a master of woodworking, they would be worth nothing."

Amy got off the bed and took a picture of Scott as a young boy with her cellphone. Then she went down to take a picture of her grandfather bust. She texted Helen saying please forward these pictures to Scott along with my phone number.

A few minutes later Amy and her parents were sitting in the kitchen talking about her grandfather's past when her cell phone rang. After answering she put the speaker on.

"This is Amy"

"This is Scott, it's been a long time since I have seen a picture of Peter let alone the bust that I made for him," I said. "How is it that you are in possession of them."

"I was four years old when my grandfather died," Amy said. "Mom says he lasted for four months after you left."

"Which one of his four daughters is your mother? I asked.

"He always called her Em, but her full name was Ember Marie.

"She is the youngest if I remember right," I replied.

"Yes, she is but more importantly I need to know how to get something to you from my grandfather," Amy said. "My mom has been holding on to them for years hoping that fate would allow her to find you."

"If its small bring it with you when you're going to work," I said.

"Albert, its Em, what we are holding for you is Dad's old chest and all his hand made carving tools," Ember Marie said. "and a letter he wrote for you. He said to me that only a true master in carving would appreciate the value of the gift."

"Amy text me your address," I said in excitement. "Trish and I are on the way."

As I drove my mind went back to the first day, I met Peter Tait. It had been three months since my parent's death. My grandparents had gone into town to do their weekly shopping. They had left me in the town park because my grandmother did not want to be seen out in public with me. Just looking at me made her sick because it brought back and made fresh what my dad had done.

A couple of my cousins and a few of their friends decided I needed a beat down. Peter had been driving by just as it started. He saw the two boys holding me and the others taking turns hitting me. To him, it just was not right.

He pulled over, got out of his truck, and broke it up. He stayed with me until my grandparents returned to get me, which was about four hours later.

While we talked, he got a piece of wood out of the back of the truck. With a pocketknife, he started working on it. It fascinated me to see it take shape. I ended up asking him all sorts of questions. With patience, I had never experienced before he answered every question I had. I think we both were inspired by the attention we were giving each other. Later he would say that I had shown more interest in his craft than anybody else in his life, even his own children.

When my grandfather came back, they had words. I was sent to sit in the back of the truck. I don't know what was said but from that point on I was allowed to go to Peters place unrestricted whenever I wanted to. From that point on, every weekend and most of my summers were spent at his place. Peter Tait treated me better than those who were related by blood did. My Grandfather was not happy about my relationship with him but never questioned me about it. I believed that the two men hated each other.

Everything I was today was because of Peter Tait. Instead of playing sports or kid's games I helped him on his farm. During evenings and spare time, he instilled in me his love of wood and what could be created or made with it. Every night he would drive me home to my loft. Until this day for me, there is no greater joy for me than seeing something I have done being used and enjoyed.