Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Sixty-Three

8:20PM

Laura stood by her son's bedside and watched him sleep. This was the second time she'd visited Frankie's room, but she hesitated waking him up since he'd been sleeping so soundly. Her eyes detected two empty water bottles on the nightstand by his bed, and it made her feel better that he was following the doctor's orders. Dr. Hill had been very blunt when he'd spoken to Laura and Stefan earlier. Either Frankie experienced improvement in his health and habits or he'd be hospitalized. Laura sat down on an antique chair positioned near Frankie and adjusted her skirts with her hands. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched his chest rise and fall regularly, and she smiled at the way his cheek was so smooth and his lips turned up with what she hoped was a good dream for a change. Her son's behavior at the will reading haunted her as it regularly jabbed at her mind. Watching Frank Smith on the videotape had been horrifying enough for her; what must it have been like for a child to actually live under the man's roof?

Frankie's face scrunched up, and he mumbled in his sleep, sounding like he was arguing with someone. His breathing quickened, and Laura instinctively ran her soft hand over his cheek, hoping to comfort him. His blue eyes opened instantly, and he trained them on his mother's face. "Mama?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"It's 8:30," she said quietly. "Are you hungry?"

Frankie closed his eyes again and grimaced. "No," he said leadenly. "I'm tired."

Laura tugged on Frankie's arm. "Why don't you get up and use the restroom? I'll bring you more water."

"Okay," he agreed as he sat up. He hissed and held his hand over his hip. "Ahhhh," he groaned, leaning away from that side so his weight wouldn't add pressure to the aching area.

Laura pushed the wheelchair beside the bed and helped lower him into its seat. "Need some assistance?" she offered

"Ah, no," Frankie said in a scoffing voice. He abruptly moved toward the bathroom, and Laura left the room. After relieving himself and washing up, Frankie peered into the mirror and made a face. Gone were the stitches that had trailed along the side of his temple, replaced by surgical glue that they'd used to repair his torn wound when he'd arrived at the psychiatric hospital. He ran a tentative finger over the site and decided that it was still tender. Maybe it wouldn’t scar. All he needed was to add another scar to the growing collection littered over his body. 

He lowered his sweatpants to take a look at his damaged hip. It was still faintly bruised after all this time. Amazingly, he hadn't broken it in his fall, but the continual use and abuse of it had caused further damage to the nerves. He cupped his hipbone in his palm and sharply drew back his hand with the resulting pain. It radiated from front to back with no relief in sight. Why had he been so stupid as to fall down that flight of concrete stairs? This never would have happened if he'd been paying enough attention. Why had he leaped over that hospital bed onto the floor? Stupid, stupid idiot. Frankie hit himself on the leg and then opened his eyes and mouth wide as the pain shot up through his body. Ohmigosh! His fingers reached out for the arms of his wheelchair and gripped them tightly as he lowered himself into the chair. He leaned against the bathroom counter and took in a sobbing breath as he grabbed his head in his hands, rubbing his hair back and forth. Cathy's sneering face flashed in his mind, and he looked up, his eyes darting around the room in a panic as if trying to find an escape.  He began sobbing earnestly, sliding out of the wheelchair and kneeling on the cold, tile floor with the side of his face held against the vinyl seat. His back shook hard with his cries, and they echoed accusingly, banging against the hard surfaces of the bathroom and bouncing back at him.

Cathy's face flashed at him from a time three years ago. "Happy birthday, Frankie." Her nasty voice reverberated in his mind, and he couldn’t stop the sound or sights even as he tried to distance himself from their reality. "No, no," he moaned. He couldn't breathe as he felt like his face was being pushed into a pillow, with a sharp knee bruising his back. "Let's party..."

Laura hurriedly dropped her silver tray of food and water onto the dresser when she heard what sounded like Frankie wailing. She rushed through the open bathroom door, and her heart clenched at the sight of her son sprawled out on the floor, leaning over his wheelchair, shaking and struggling as if someone were holding him down against his will. He cried out and shook off Laura's hand when she touched his arm. He crawled away as fast as he could and wedged himself between the toilet and the bathroom cabinet, a space only eleven inches wide, continuing to cry as he huddled against the wood grain, feeling its coolness against his hot fingertips and cheek.

Laura felt indecisive at that point. Should she leave him to go find Dr. Hill and Stefan or stay there and try to bring him out of whatever terror he seemed to be experiencing? Motherly instinct took over, and she knelt down on the floor in front of him. "Frankie. It's your mama. It's Mama. Why don't you come out of there so we can talk?" Laura's mind returned to the silver tray lying on the dresser in the bedroom. "I have something I think you'll like," she said enticingly. Frankie's arm was hiding his face, and she wondered what he looked like and what he was thinking as he continued to sob. She decided to keep talking to him in a low yet bright tone of voice but wasn't sure if she were reaching him. "I know you like peanut butter," she teased him, placing a gentle hand on his knee and tearing up when he flinched harshly and squeezed tighter toward the cabinet. "I have two sandwiches for you as a matter of fact. I thought you might like them since you don't feel like coming down to dinner." As she continued to talk, she heard him sigh, almost imperceptibly. Frankie's arm lowered by an inch or two, and she saw one blue eye peering at her. Laura smiled brightly. "Let's go try out those peanut butter sandwiches."

Frankie's arm slid back up to hide his face, but he'd stopped crying, and Laura could tell he was listening to her. "I gave you some potato chips along with that sandwich. I don't know why we keep them in the house. If I even think about a potato chip, it goes straight to my hips, and we know that can't happen. I won't be able to fit through the doorway," she exclaimed. She heard one or two light laughs emerge from beneath Frankie's raised arm, and she decided to risk touching him again on the arm. "Let me help you," she said calmly.

Frankie lowered his arm and stared at her with sad eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His lips were red and swollen with emotional upset and quivered as more tears built up in his eyes. Laura very gently tugged on his arm. "Come on," she said. "Come on out of there."

Frankie helped her pull him out by pushing his foot against the tile floor, and soon he was wrapped in her arms. Laura enfolded her son into her embrace and gently rubbed his back as the tears built in her eyes as well. She reached up to stroke his hair. "I love you, Frankie."

She noticed that her knees were killing her kneeling on the hard floor. "Let's stand up, okay?"

Laura pulled her son up along with her, holding one arm around his shoulder and another around his waist to support him. She wordlessly led him from the bathroom back into the bedroom, noticing that he held his breath and winced with each step or hop in his case. She sat him in a chair and carried the silver tray to a nearby table, pulling it close to him so he wouldn’t have to strain himself to reach.  She propped his leg up on another chair while he silently watched her every movement, seemingly recording them in his brain for replay at a later time. He accepted a peanut butter sandwich and chewed slowly, his face looking blank and worn.

"Stefan wants to stop by and talk to you about Nikolas," Laura stated when she noticed that Frankie was perking up after finishing his first sandwich. She bustled around, tidying nonexistent flaws in the room and providing Frankie with distant company that didn't make him feel overwhelmed. Finally she sat across from him on the side of the bed and sought his full attention. "Honey, you don't have to talk to me, but if you want someone to listen, I'm always here. Or if you want company and no talking, just ask. Okay?"

Frankie nodded as his eyes lowered to his plate. He was embarrassed at how he seemed to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation these days. Mama was emotional, so maybe she understood, but what about Stefan, who was always calm, cool and collected. Surely he was disappointed in his stepson after the ruckus he'd caused that afternoon. What if he couldn't control himself and what if it had been Stefan who'd found him in the bathroom a few minutes ago? His stomach hurt ominously at the implications, and he rubbed his hand over his midriff, looking distinctly ill and uneasy. He looked at his half eaten sandwich and gingerly laid it back down on the plate. "Thanks for da sandwiches," he said quietly. "I was too tired to go down ta dinner, so dis is nice. Thanks Mama - for everything."

Laura walked over to her son and hugged him. "Anytime," she said brightly. She cupped his chin and directed his gaze to her face. "I love, you, Frankie. Don't ever forget that."

He smiled briefly. "I won't, Mama."

~*~*~*~

Up in the air...

Athena snuggled against Nikolas on the leather, first class seats they'd purchased for the trip. "I love casinos," she whispered excitedly into his ear. "I can't wait to arrive in Monaco."

Nikolas laughed and stroked her cheek. "You've never been to Monaco. In fact, I doubt you've ever been inside a casino."

Athena shrugged and looked nonchalant. "I have seen casinos in movies - James Bond for example."

Nikolas grinned and kissed her on the lips. "I love giving you new experiences. I want to make you very, very happy."

Athena's green eyes met Nikolas' gaze. "And you do," she said softly as she rubbed his arm. "I’m not with you for your money. I want you to know that."  Athena's face flooded with distaste. "I'm not my mother."

"I know. You've never asked me for anything."

"Except your body," Athena purred as her lips turned up.

"What's mine is yours, baby," Nikolas smiled. "Signed, sealed and delivered, I'm yours."

"American pop - the only music we can tune into on the island. Bleh."

"Athena the snob,"  Nikolas teased. "I suppose you'll be a hit at Oxford."

"I don't know," Athena worried. "I have my scholarship but not the funds to support the lifestyle. They'll think I'm a poser, a fake with a Greek accent."

Nikolas frowned. "You'll be there for an education. The rest shouldn't matter. Ignore them if they're snobs."

"I'll try."

"Let's find you a new wardrobe while we're in Europe," Nikolas suggested. "It will be my gift to you, a graduation gift."

"I don’t know, Nikolas. What would your parents say?"

"To heck with them! This is my money. It's none of their concern. Besides, I'd love to see you in some gorgeous outfits." His hand lazily ran down her side, over her hip and lingered on her thigh. "And maybe a private outfit or two," he said in a sexy voice.

~*~*~*~

Luke removed his shoes and placed his feet on top of the new coffee table they'd purchased for the living room. He reached for the bottle of beer that he'd brought with him and unscrewed the cap, taking a long sip. He reached for the remote and started channel surfing.

Alexis walked into the room and laid a large bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. "My specialty," she teased.

Luke grabbed a huge handful of the popcorn and grinned. "Works for me, babe." His eyes appreciatively roamed over his wife, and she couldn't help catching his lascivious expression.

"What is your problem, Spencer?" she asked as she patted her hair and wondered if it were doing something funky enough to warrant his stare.

"I like," he said with typical cave man eloquence. He nibbled on the popcorn and took another swill of his beer. "Come here, woman." Luke drew Alexis close to his side and gave her a beery kiss.

"Oh joy," Alexis frowned. "Beer, popcorn and cable television. I've sunken so far so fast."

"But you have me!" Luke protested. 

"That's what I mean," Alexis teased back. She rested her head on his chest and squeezed him tightly. "I love you."

Luke kissed the top of her hair and agreed. "Love you, too."

"How are the Spencer businesses coming along?"

Luke muted the television and laid down the remote, but his eyes stayed on the score of the game that was being broadcast, proving his masculine ability to multitask. "I should have handed the bar over to Clyde's management years ago. Revenues are up twenty-five percent. The man is awesome without me breathing down his neck and getting in his way. And you should see the apartment now. He's elevated it immensely. The man has good taste, which he's sharing with the bar. It's a lot classier now."

"What about the new business?"

"Ah. My new baby. I discovered there's a lack of landscaping expertise in the Port Charles area. I have a waiting list already, and an excellent work crew. I'd say we're a success, darlin'."

"You have the Midas touch," Alexis stated sleepily. She yawned and closed her eyes against the fatigue of a long, stressful day.

Luke raised his hand to inspect it. He wiped off the popcorn crumbs and drops of beer. "I don't know about that, but I'm willing to work hard for my family." His mind drifted back to the events of the will reading, and he sighed with saddened eyes.

Alexis raised her head and patted him on the chest. "Pass me a beer," she said wearily. "I need one."

Luke reached for the spare that he'd brought with him and handed it to his wife, twisting off the top with a flick of his wrist. "You're slummin', angel."

Alexis took a healthy swig of the brew and made a face. "You're right. Wine is much better than this stinky stuff."

"Frankie might argue you on that point."

"That's right. He was a six pack a day kind of guy, wasn't he?"

"Still is - only we won't let him have it."

Alexis held her beer up and inspected it. "Should we keep this out of the house after he moves in?"

Luke nodded. "I expect so. We don't want to catch Sly in an experimental mood either.  He's fourteen, but aging rapidly, especially around his older brother. I'll drink at my bar or when we go out on a date."

"Date?" Alexis' eyes lit up. "Where are we going?"

Luke stretched and wrapped his arm around his girl. "I was thinking about a cozy dinner for two at that new place on the docks."

"Oh! I've heard such good reviews! When can we go?"

"Sly is staying over at Bobbie's tomorrow night because Lucas is coming home. They're having a little party for him."

"And Frankie doesn't arrive until the day after." Alexis' analytical mind was whirring with the possibilities.

Luke gave her a mushy kiss. "Stock up on the whipped cream, darlin'," he teased. His eyebrows rose. "Because I want my dessert at home, Crumbcake."

~*~*~*~

Frankie was propped up in bed with a mound of pillows behind his back and his laptop beside him. His concentration was broken by the entrance of his stepfather.

"Do you have a minute to talk, Frankie?"

Frankie lowered the lid of the laptop and turned his attention to Stefan. "Yes."

Stefan noted that Frankie was pale with the red, puffy eyelids that announced a recent crying episode. Laura had detailed his latest upset, and Stefan was concerned. Frankie had been experiencing more frequent flashbacks and was edgier than usual. How would he react to discussing his brother when the two boys were close to being enemies? "Can we discuss Nikolas?" he asked respectfully. "You’ve had a difficult day, and I don't want to add to your worries." Stefan pulled up a chair and at that moment looked more like an accessible father figure than an aristocratic CEO with Greco-Russian origins.

Frankie relaxed in Stefan's easygoing presence and nodded. "Yes, I'd like to. Did you receive my email?"

"Yes, I did. I'm impressed with your detective work."

Frankie brushed off the compliment. "Dat's what I did for a living before...um, Frank's death."

"I have my men searching in Asia," Stefan confided.

"I believe dey were dere," Frankie agreed. "In Tahiti. But dey're gone now. I haven't found da place where dey stayed. When I do, we might have some clues." Frankie shifted on the bed, uncomfortable with the thoughts and feelings that jabbed at him. Guilt was not an emotion he was used to. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "Nobody's blamed me, but it's my fault. He ran 'cause I was blackmailing him. I know dat."

Stefan's face set, and his look was intense. "No, Frankie. It is not your entire fault. Your blackmail was the last straw, what set the action in motion, but this is a problem between Nikolas and his parents, his mother and I. There were unspoken tensions for quite some time, and we failed to follow up on them, preferring to believe that all was well. It is our responsibility, not yours."

Frankie's eyes softened with gratitude at being let off the hook, and he quickly turned business-like again. "If he sets foot on any of my properties, I'll know immediately. I can't hack into da airlines right now, and dey're not talking, so perhaps you can pursue dat angle."

Stefan stroked his goatee as his eyes sharpened. "Yes, I have excellent contacts in transportation."

"Dat was always our weakness," Frankie shared. "For me and Frank. We kept meaning to lay down more bribes, but we were lazy. It takes time to set up da network." Frankie sized up Stefan with a careful glance. "Maybe we can do a merger sometime," he suggested breezily.

Stefan smiled at Frankie's manner of understatement. "It is an opportunity worth exploring."

Frankie's eyes twinkled back at Stefan as they both seemed to be reading one another's minds. Cassadine and Smith Enterprises would be an unstoppable partnership. Where would the two conglomerates mesh and enhance one another? The possibilities were endless. Frankie's face immediately sank as another thought assaulted him, and his fingers nervously tapped his laptop. "Stefan?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yes?" Stefan searched the face of the young man before him and concluded that he was working his way up to sharing a confidence. He held his breath, trying to preserve a nonchalant appearance, as he instinctively didn't want to frighten off the boy.

Frankie's voice made a low, brittle sound, and his forehead was wrinkled with the intensity of his emotions. "If, if I get worse, will you look after my companies? I mean, if I can't think right or if I don’t heal or somethin'?" Frankie's blue eyes bore into Stefan's intelligent yet kind green ones. They held each other's gaze as two highly intelligent minds considered the ramifications of Frankie's concerns.

"I would be proud to assist you whenever and however you need," Stefan answered. "Whether it is business administration or more personal. You can always talk to me."

Frankie face, although tight, relaxed a fraction. "I know dat," he said. "You know da score, so I trust you with da businesses. And you've been nice to me. Thanks."

"You're a delightful person to know," Stefan replied. "It is not difficult to like you or to talk to you."

Frankie took one more figurative step closer to Stefan, and opened up with a topic that had been needling him for some time now. "Can I tell you something dat you won't blab?" he asked tentatively. His eyes flashed a fearful emotion for a second but then settled back into their usual wary expression.

"Of course."

"I'm afraid of Luke," he blurted out. His throat closed on him with the enormity of his confession, and he protectively raised a hand to it.

Stefan looked confused. "I don't understand. Can you explain?"

Frankie looked up at the ceiling, down at the floor and over to the ornate dresser across from his bed, anywhere but at Stefan. He had a hard time understanding himself, and somewhere inside him he hoped that Stefan could help him. "He's my dad," he said in a strangled voice edged with tears. "Dat's why. I have to...to predict what he's gonna do to me. I feel so upset. I... uh...can't decide what he'll do. It makes me so nervous. I gotta go live dere soon, and I don't know what I'm gonna do." Frankie blinked back a few tears and held his breath, trying to ride out his most recent wave of terror and confusion, which unfortunately were frequent companions these days.

"Are you associating Luke with Frank?" Stefan asked bluntly.

Frankie frowned as he thought. He plucked on his lower lip. "Dey're both my dads," he said in a confused voice. "One's just dead."

"They are completely different persons with opposite motivations. Frank's intentions were wrong from the first day he met you. Apparently, his mind suffered in recent years, as well, which we saw evidence of on the videotape this afternoon. You were a pawn caught up in his game. You tried your best to survive a game you could not win, and whatever happened during that time is not your fault."

Frankie's bright eyes never left Stefan's face as he listened to the man summarize his existence in one succinct paragraph.

"Luke is not Frank. He is a separate human being, and the person who has had your best interests at heart from the moment you were conceived. He loved you even though he thought you were dead. Love like that transcends time and distance. You had that love up close for an entire year." Stefan patted Frankie's chest. "And it stayed with you all these years. Right in your heart. You have nothing to fear from him, Frankie. Nor me, nor your mother or Alexis. We are on your side."

Frankie gulped with his deep emotions. "But dads hurt people," he cried out softly. "He hurt me. I don't wanna do dat no more. I'm already beat up, and my kidney is still messed up."

Stefan shook his head. "Semantics. You're giving one word a dual meaning. Frank hurt you. Frank was not your real father. Luke is your dad and always has been. He is your dad and a good father. Remove the word "dad" from your idea of Frank. That's what is bothering you. I am sure you have good memories of Frank - no one is purely evil - but he was your kidnapper and used you for revenge. Associate the hurt with the kidnapper, not the assumed role."

Frankie ran his hand slowly over his forehead and down his temple. "I'm not thinkin' right," he decided. "Sometimes, da emotion don’t fit da thought, and I'm mixed up. It runs out ahead of me, and I can't catch up."

Stefan laid his hand on the boy's knee. "Frankie, how long have you been here in Port Charles - since you have known your true paternity?"

"I don't know. A month, six weeks? Two months? I don't remember."

"It has been a very short space of time. You need time to process all of these changes. Will you allow yourself to feel uneasy at times or upset? If you do, then perhaps you can work through these feelings. Talk to me or your mother and especially to Luke. Fear eats you up inside if you do not let it out and express it."

Frankie looked at Stefan appraisingly. "You talk like you know dis personally."

Stefan sighed and sat back in his chair. "I am a student of life, Frankie. I have been in this school for many more years than you. I have learned much. I know you are accustomed to feeling like an adult, but you are not. It has taken me years to accept my own background and to make changes so it suits me. You will do the same, but not all at once. Time, Frankie. Time."

"I'm glad dat you're married to my Mama," Frankie announced. "I like you." He beamed at Stefan with a genuine smile that was rare in its spontaneity.

"And I like you, too."  Stefan smiled, content that he'd been able to reassure the boy. He felt a stab of regret. Why had it been so difficult to communicate with Nikolas?

~*~*~*~

"Nikolas?"

"Hm?" Nikolas opened his eyes. He'd been resting them, preparing for a nap that never came as he often had difficulty sleeping on planes.

Athena picked up her empty water bottle and squeezed its middle as she selected her words. Her curiosity was aroused, and when that happened, there was nothing to do but satisfy it.

"Why aren't you getting along with your parents? They seem nice." She mentally rolled her eyes at silly Laura, but at least the woman was cheerful and kind. "In your emails, you spoke of being discontent, especially about your new half-brother, but you never elaborated. Of course, we were too busy to talk when you were on the island recently."

Nikolas ran his hand over his face as he breathed out heavily. "Athena, I don't know. It's complicated."

"As are most families," she encouraged.

"Yes," Nikolas agreed. He turned toward his girlfriend, adjusted himself in his seat and took her hands into his own. "As you know, I'm illegitimate."

"Were," Athena corrected.

Nikolas shrugged. "Regardless, my parents didn't marry when I was conceived or even after I was born. They robbed me of any real inheritance - a title. I know I'm American, and I shouldn't worry about that, but you know how it is on the island."

"Children are cruel everywhere." Athena recalled hearing the taunts of some of her cousins when the subject of Nikolas arose. "I am sorry people made hateful comments to you. I never would participate in knocking down another person in that way."

Nikolas' fingers intertwined with hers, and his gaze softened. "I know you wouldn't. That's one of the reasons I love you. You have integrity." He stroked her fingers as his mind turned back to the topic of their conversation. "It's just that she left me, and he encouraged her to do it. I never had a mother when I was a little kid, and it was hard knowing that she'd moved on and married someone else, had his child. Why wasn't I good enough? Why wouldn't she marry my father and be my mother? She'd send me notes and photos, but there was always the husband and the other son, the one who was good enough to love and be with. I know it's simpleminded, but that's the way little kids are."

"Did your father explain his actions?"

"He always blames my grandmother. I wonder if she's convenient to use as an excuse. How could one human being have so much power or be so terrible?"

"The entire island breathed a sigh of relief when she died, Nikolas. She terrorized the entire family. People still talk about it."

Nikolas shrugged. "I don't know about that."

"Which is part of your problem," Athena asserted. "You've been isolated and sheltered. You have no idea of how the majority of the world lives."

"You sound like my father."

"Then we agree on one point. It's not necessarily your fault, Nikolas, but that's the way it is."

"Sometimes I think he resents me or is jealous. He wishes he could have grown up in the US away from the pressures of his mother and the island. But no one ever says this directly. It's an underlying a tone of voice or comment." Nikolas looked down at his folded hands. "I wish my parents would talk about things. Maybe they do together, but never with me. Everything goes unsaid."

"Do you think they are regretful for how they handled the situation? Perhaps their guilt holds them at a distance from you."

Nikolas eyes lit up when his girlfriend's words registered in his brain. "It makes sense," he concurred. "It really does. Everything in my father's life is defined by rejecting his mother and her influence. He's used to pushing away what he's uncomfortable acknowledging. That may include my illegitimacy."

"And you are merely a casualty of that war," Athena reminded him. "They are not trying to hurt you on purpose."

 Nikolas nodded. "I've always felt like the third wheel in their presence. They positively cling to one another."

"This needs to be expressed, Nikolas. I think they will be receptive to hearing it. It's not too late."

"Frankie's presence has made everything explode," Nikolas added. "He's really odd and has a ton of problems. They're all caught up in them. I kind of feel sorry for him, but then he does or says something so obnoxious that I want to punch out his lights."

"This could be good," Athena pointed out. "Your parents are actively in the problem solving mode, and now they must include you in the mix."

Nikolas grinned. "I'm causing them problems. I like that."

"Don't enjoy it too much, Mr. Cassadine."

"Oh. Yeah, I wouldn't want to be too much like my grandmother."

Athena touched Nikolas' cheek and lightly kissed his lips. "That will never be a problem, handsome."

~*~*~*~

Luke leaned against the post of his front porch and surveyed his property in the brightness of a full moon. He liked the remote feel of the land with its country-like landscape set back from the road and the mature trees shading the house. They were still in the heart of the city, only blocks from the main roads, but the piece of land had never been developed, and upon the death of its owner had been available for a building site. The nearest neighbors were further away than the typical city lot as this house and land comprised five city lots. Still, there were sidewalks, city utilities and the proximity to schools and businesses. It was a good location for a family with growing boys who would need to visit libraries, friends from school and the attraction of the docks and parks. They'd been lucky to find a newer house in this locale.  

Luke raised the bottle of beer to his lips and drank deeply. The clear, brown liquid was almost an afterthought to his habit. He twirled around the empty and laid it at his feet on the porch floor. I've been drinking too much after the discovery that my son is alive. When the fire heats up under me, I reach for the bottle, just like my old man. Sure, I'm not an alcoholic. I can go days or weeks if needed without a drink, but I drink too much anyway. Maybe I should give it up in light of Frankie's disease. He can't be expected to abstain when it's in his face all the time.  I'd rather place my time and energies on my family and businesses. Why waste a good day nursing a hangover?  Besides, I want to place as much distance as possible between me and my old man. No way do I want to repeat any of those behaviors with my sons. I'm not so concerned about Sly, but Frankie pushes my buttons and can be real difficult. I never want to raise my hand to him or make him afraid. I'm going to have to make changes in my own life and ways of thinking to pull this off. Patience isn't my strong suit.

Luke toed at a dead leaf lying on the porch. He rubbed his arms and stared off in the distance, imagining he could see the lights of the harbor with an eerie glow emanating from the mists above the water. I thank God for the love of a good woman. Alexis has really made the difference. Sly and I - we were doing okay, getting by - but that boy has positively thrived in the last few weeks. He seems to be growing stronger and wiser every day. A family is all he needed, a good solid family. Luke turned around and entered the house, secure in the knowledge that his wife was waiting for him to return to their bed.

Next chapter...