When We Get to San Francisco…

He went through the motions with Mrs. Chase, who was healthy and cheerful as always, and then saw her out and bade Lucinda and her mother enter the examination room with a promise that he'd be with them shortly. He then had to file Mrs. Chase's paperwork after she left the office, leaving him alone with Harry. At long last he could no longer postpone acknowledging the older man's presence. "We'll be with you as soon as possible," he said, his hand on the storage room door.

"I'll wait," Harry said. "I've been waiting fifteen years, after all."

"Indeed," Bill admitted.

With Louise and Mary flanking the still-nervous patient, the procedure was routine and no more uncomfortable than it ever was. As always, Bill offered a few encouraging words to avoid looking aloof, but left most of the talking to Mary and Louise. "Now, you can rest here as long as you like," he told her once it was done. "Then I take it Louise will be taking care of you?"

"For the moment, at least," Louise said.

"Okay, then. You're welcome back any time if you have any more concerns, okay?"

"Thank you doctor," Lorene said, barely above a whisper.

Bill was fortunate enough to be too busy with his last few patients for any further confrontation with his father before the office closed. But at last, there was no more postponing the inevitable. The old man still sat there like a rock just inside the office door. Without a word of greeting, Bill and Mary sat together on the bench facing him. Having had a few hours to put the pieces together, Bill turned to Mary. "I take it you knew," he said. "That's why you brought up something so much like this at lunch, isn't it?"

"I didn't know for sure," Mary said. "I thought I had seen him in the street, is all, and I thought I ought to sound you out on the matter."

"She's right, son," Harry said. "We did see each other, just for a moment, when you were off on your lunch hour today."

"Yes, and just how long have you been spying on us, anyway?" Bill snapped.

"Only a couple of days, Bill," Harry insisted. "I mean, I've got business contacts in Denver and I've been aware for years that you had stayed here and become a doctor – and a successful one, from all I'd heard! I'm very proud of you, son. But I always assumed you did not want to be found, and honestly, I couldn't blame you." Looking to Mary then, he added, "Either of you. Mary, I especially owe you an apology for my attitude the last time we met."

"Strictly speaking, we didn't meet, Mr. Billingston," Mary reminded him, disregarding his earlier correction.

"I haven't been known as 'Mr. Billingston' in years," Harry said. "Not except in a business setting, at least, and I'm retired now. My name is Harry Johnson, and I am no longer ashamed of that."

"I suppose I should at least ask, just what became of 'Mr. Billingston,'" Bill said.

"I was hoping you would ask. Bill, I don't blame you for getting off the train, honestly I don't. But losing you destroyed your mother, Bill. She was much too obsessed with keeping up appearances to ever show it, of course, and so she remained by my side when we got to California. But our marriage was over. She never could forgive me for failing to persuade you to 'stick to your own kind', as she always put it – mind you, I do not condone her attitude in the least, not anymore anyway, but you know that is how she saw it. Well, I had a job to do in San Francisco, and that kept me from going insane with grief over what had happened. But she had no such comforts to shield her, and after just a few months she packed her bags and returned to Chicago.

"I followed a year or so later, once I had operations in San Francisco all set to manage without my being there. But your mother never allowed me back in her bed, or even in her wing of the house. Ultimately I moved out on my own, though she never would give me a divorce. Her final way of punishing me, I suppose. She passed on two years ago, Bill, in the flu epidemic. I'm sorry to have to tell you that. She cut me out of her will, of course, and left everything in a trust for you in the event that you were ever found. I'm surprised her lawyer never tracked you down."

"I rather doubt he looked all that hard," Bill remarked dryly, recalling all too well how much like her all his mother's associates were."

"You are probably correct about that," Harry admitted. "Be that as it may, though, it's all yours for the taking if you care to get in touch with Chicago." On that note, he took a deep breath and turned to Mary. Reaching gingerly for her hand, he showed no irritation when she pulled back from him. "Right, I deserve that," he conceded. "Mary, I'm sorry. I was an awful, puritanical snob to you, and I now see you'd have been a wonderful addition to the family – just what we needed, really. I offer no excuses for my wife and her terrible demeanor towards you both, and I can only hope you believe I have learned from the mistakes I made back then."

Bill did not look convinced. But Mary, even to her own surprise, was. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson," she said, now touching his hand as she had not let him do. As she did so, the sleeve of her dress rode up to reveal the ever-mangled skin of her wrist. She made to pull the sleeve back down with her other hand, but that only drew Harry's attention to the scar, of which he had never been aware.

"Oh dear," Harry said.

"Father, that's –" Bill began.

"I know what it is," Harry interrupted, and with that he slid off the chair to his knees and burst into tears. "Mary, I am ever so sorry, and so proud of you both for helping that girl and others like her!" He wrapped his arms around Mary, and she thanked him and returned the hug.

Bill watched the touching scene with stoicism he usually reserved for the secret room. "I guess I owe you thanks for keeping her father at bay today," he admitted.

"Least I could do, Bill," Harry sobbed. "The very least."

Bill looked at Mary for silent guidance, and saw only conciliation in her eyes as she held Harry. "Father," he finally asked, "Have you got a clean change of clothes wherever you're staying?"

"Of course," Harry allowed.

"Let's go get you changed out of those rags, then," Bill directed. "I won't have you meeting your grandchildren dressed like that."

Bill and Mary didn't need to discuss whether to bring Harry in through the back door; neither of them cared to explain the situation to the multitudes who were surely waiting in the parlor as usual. Kathleen met them at the kitchen door, where Mary advised her that there would be a guest for dinner (this drew a scowl from Mrs. Morton, but neither she nor her staff complained) and then directed Robinson to have the parlor cleared of guests. After a few awkward moments, Robinson appeared to usher the family in. They found Charlie and Anna flanking Maxine on the couch, looking as if they feared they might be in trouble. "H...hi, Dad, Mom," Charlie stammered.

"Do you need me to leave, Doctor?" Maxine asked.

"No, it's just as well that you hear," Bill said. "Charlie, Anna, come meet your grandfather."

Harry, his hair freshly washed and combed to match his newly pressed suit, squatted down and smiled at the kids. "Hello there," he said with a nervous smile.

"Our grandfather?" Anna asked. "You told us we didn't have any grandparents!"

"That's what you've always said!" Charlie agreed.

"Even your old man makes mistakes, kids," Bill said. "You'll understand when..."

"When we get to San Francisco," Mary finished.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Never mind," Bill said. "Kids, she's right, we'll tell you everything one day. For now, though, meet Grandpa Billingston."

Maxine stood up. "Sir, perhaps you'd like to have a seat?"

"If Charlie and Anna don't mind," Harry said.

"Of course they don't," Mary said. "Right, kids?"

"Right," Anna said, knowing her mother wasn't to be contradicted at the moment. "Come sit down, Grandpa."

"Why, thank you, Anna," Harry said. He took his place between the children, neither of whom made to touch him just yet. "I certainly am pleased to meet you both," he said. "I should tell you, I've known about you all your lives."

"Then why didn't you ever come here?" Charlie demanded.

"Charlie!" Mary reprimanded him.

"No, that's quite all right, Mary," Harry said. "In fact, it's a very good question. You see, Charlie, as old as I am, I had some growing up to do."

"Okay," Charlie said, after a glance at his mother confirmed it was safe to speak again. "Mom tells me that all the time, too." After they had all had a laugh, Charlie continued, "Were you on the train?"

"What train?" Harry asked.

"The one we met on," Bill told him. "And yes, Charlie, he was. He went all the way to San Francisco, though."

"Oh, that's why we never saw you, then!" Anna piped up.

"Exactly," Mary said.

"Well, that's okay," Anna said, and at last she snuggled up against Harry. "We are always asking Mommy and Daddy when we're going to finish that trip!"

"Well now, I don't know if they have any need to do that anymore," Harry said.

"Quite right, Father," Mary said. "No need anymore."

Harry returned Anna's embrace, and gave Mary a look of immense gratitude.

After the children were off to bed that night, Bill and Mary sat up quite late with Harry and a bottle of contraband wine ("The cops owe me a lot of favors, or at least their wives do," Bill explained to his surprised father as he poured him a glass), learning all about what Harry had been up to since their parting of the ways. San Francisco had indeed made him even richer, the war still more so, but he had given most of it to charity. "The both of you made me realize there is so much more important than money," he explained, "Not to mention so many in need out there." On that note, he went on to tell them much that even Bill had never known of his impoverished youth in West Virginia. "Dreadfully sorry your mother spilled the beans on all that the way she did, Bill," Harry said. "You had a right to know the truth all along, I see that now."

"I wouldn't have wanted to cross her either if I had to share a bed with her," Bill confessed with a wry grin. Mary looked aghast at him but privately agreed.

"Deep down, Bill, I know there was a spark of good in her," Harry said. "I just know it. After all, she was ever so distraught when you left."

"Are you sure of that, Father?" Bill asked. "Or was she only distraught because I married a woman she didn't approve of?"

Harry took a long drink of wine, and looked back and forth at Bill and Mary. At last he admitted, "No, son, I'm not sure. Not sure at all. I guess I just need to believe the woman I loved wasn't completely heartless. But maybe she was."

When at last they had retired to bed, Bill and Mary were in no mood for play. After undressing in a contented silence, Mary settled in Bill's arms for the night. "Do you really believe your mother was so soulless?" she asked him.

"Entirely possible," Bill said.

"Then how on earth did you learn to be the man you are?"

"Never underestimate the power of a bad example."

Mary dissolved into contented laughter, and soon they both drifted off to sleep.

The next day was Saturday. After a leisurely breakfast in the morning, Bill proposed that Maxine take the children and their grandfather out for a day of sightseeing and to get to know one another. "You've got a lot of catching up to do, after all, Father," he said.

"Are you sure they'll be comfortable with that, Son?" Harry asked.

"No," Bill admitted. "But that's just why you ought to do it. You've got to start somewhere."

"There's plenty of Denver to see, Mr. Billingston," Maxine said encouragingly.

"That's Mr. Johnson, Maxine," Mary corrected.

"Oh?" Turning to Bill, she asked, "Then how did you become Dr. Billingston?"

"I'll tell you all about it in the car, my dear," Harry told her.

"Will you tell us about the train to San Francisco?" Charlie asked.

"I think we'd better leave that up to your parents," Harry said, and a glance at Bill and Mary showed they concurred. "But I'd love to tell you some stories about your father when he was a boy."

"Good thing I won't have to listen to that, isn't it?" Bill quipped.

As soon as they were out the door, Bill turned to Mary. "So, shall we have a day on the town as well?" he asked.

Mary answered only with a sly grin that he knew well, and which only ever meant one thing. She took both his hands in hers and drew him towards the stairs.

"Well, I have to admit I wasn't expecting this," Bill said as Mary shut the bedroom door behind them. "With everything that's happened, I figured –"

"Quiet, you," Mary commanded him, and she placed his hands on her breasts. "How often do we have a day to ourselves like this? We shouldn't waste it talking!"

Bill lost no time in fondling her breasts gently, and leaning in for a long kiss. Still surprised at the turn of events, he made no move to undress Mary, and soon found most of his own clothes off before he even thought to unbutton her dress. "Lovely idea," he finally said as he was pushing it down over her hips. "Just when was the last time we made love by daylight? We ought to do it more often, so lovely to see your body in all its glory."

"As I said, there's so rarely any time for that!" Mary reminded him as she pushed her panties down after her dress. "Now," she said, drawing her own hands up to her breasts, "If you want so much to look at my body, for heaven's sake help me off with this! It's horribly tight today."

"Tight?" he said. "I know you get bigger on your period, dear, but that's not for..." he paused to do the math. "Wait a moment, just how long has it been?"

"Seven weeks, dear."

Bill stepped back, agape. "You mean...so when Anna asked the other night..."

"Quite a coincidence," Mary admitted. "But that's all it was. I haven't told anyone. I wasn't sure myself, and to tell you the truth I'm still not, completely. But it looks that way."

"Are you sure you're up to this, then?" Bill asked. "You're not sick or anything?"

"Then I wouldn't have given you that look downstairs, now would I?" Mary asked. With that she reached back and unfastened her bra herself. "I'm sorry, Bill, but this really is getting quite uncomfortable." Without a care she tossed the garment aside and took Bill in her arms. "I think the news definitely calls for some celebration," she said.

"Indeed," Bill agreed.