Chapter 31: You are very annoying, Jonny!

November 25, 1982, Thanksgiving Day, Goshen, Ohio

“Linda, I mean your mom, tells me you work for an investment firm,” Glen said.

“I do know Mom’s first name,” I replied with a grin. “Yes, I work for Spurgeon Capital. I’m a supervisor in the mailroom, but I’m working on my securities licences. I’ll complete that in January, and on March 1st, I’ll start as an investment analyst.”

“You’ll have to forgive the science and math teacher for not knowing what that is.”

“My job will be to gather information, evaluate it, and make predictions about the future prices of stocks, bonds, and currencies, then recommend trades and trading strategies, as well as evaluate hedges, which are ways to limit risk. I’ll also manage an investment portfolio for some friends.”

And my mom, who had to be one of my ten. Bev would be when she graduated, but by then, we might be married, and if that were the case, she’d simply share in my investments, rather than have her own account.

“You don’t have a college degree, right?”

“That’s correct,” I confirmed. “But it’s not a requirement for the job, and most of the successful traders and money managers don’t have degrees. What’s important is licenses as well as a grasp of the financial markets, and as one of the money managers said, no college in the world teaches what they do, and what I’ll be doing. Which science do you teach?”

“Physics, and I also teach calculus and trigonometry. Your mom said you’re taking college courses.”

“That’s right,” I replied. “I may eventually earn a degree in night school, but I’m concentrating on courses which will help me do my job. I’m taking a computer programming course now, I have math next semester, then I’ll take a statistics course next Fall.”

“Shall we go next door?” Mom suggested.

Everyone agreed, and I helped Mom carry the pies to Bev’s house, where her parents greeted my mom and Glen. Mr. Newton gave me a hard look, and I was sure his wife had taken him to task in private once Bev and I had left. One thing was certain, and that was that Bev and I would sleep at my house, even if it cramped my mom’s style. I didn’t think it would, given our interactions, but they might elect to be discreet.

Fortunately, Mr. Newton didn’t say anything about Bev and me, which made for a pleasant afternoon, though I could tell Bev was still unhappy with her dad. We did watch the Giants—Lions game, with Bev and Heather snuggled close to me on the love seat. The game was tied 6–6 going into the fourth quarter, as neither side could generate much offense, and Lawrence Taylor, who had not started due to a bum knee, was keeping the Lions in check almost single-handedly.

On the first Lions drive of the quarter, Taylor stepped in front of Lions receiver Horace King, intercepted the pass from Gary Danielson, then streaked down the sideline for a 97-yard touchdown. That was enough to give the Giants a 13–6 victory, and once the final gun sounded, everyone went to the dining room for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Taylor was a one-man wrecking crew today,” Glen said. “He has to be the greatest linebacker to ever play the game.”

“Ray Nitschke? Dick Butkus? Jack Lambert? Chuck Bednarik?” Mr. Newton asked.

“I don’t think any of them had the impact Taylor has had,” Glen said. “He was basically responsible for all 13 points today, and stopped the Lions cold once he came in as a sub!”

I agreed with Glen, but the last thing I wanted to do was give Mr. Newton another reason to be unhappy, so I let it go. My goal was to keep Bev happy, spend time with her, and let Mrs. Newton handle Mr. Newton. I was positive he’d come around if Bev and I ever got engaged, but for now, I had to walk a tightrope, though, as I’d said to him, if the choice was to upset him or Bev, it was an easy decision to make.

The turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and rolls were awesome, as were the pies, and when we finished eating, Glen and I cleared the table while my mom and Mrs. Newton washed dishes and put away leftovers. Bev fed Heather while we were cleaning up, and put her down for a nap, and once the kitchen was squared away, we sat down to watch the end of the Cowboys—Browns game, which ended with Dallas winning easily 31–14.

After the game, Bev packed an overnight bag for her and Heather, asked me to carry the portable bassinet, and we went back to my house, accompanied by my mom and Glen. He stayed until about 9:00pm, when Mom walked him to the door. She was back to join Bev and me a minute later.

“Glen didn’t have to leave,” I said.

“You’re making a big assumption, Mister!” Mom said.

I laughed, “You basically admitted it earlier! And a little birdie mentioned seeing his car in the driveway very early in the morning.”

“Jonny!” Bev said sharply.

“Let him be, Bev,” Mom said, with a twinkle in her eye. “He’s getting even for the teasing I did when he came home to see you the first time.”

“Seriously, Mom. Call him and go stay with him if that’s what you’d planned. You know why Bev and I are here.”

“Jim is not happy with the two of you, because he expected you to get engaged.”

“If dad wants to get engaged, he can ask Jonny himself!” Bev smirked.

Mom laughed, “Cute.”

“I can’t take credit for it,” Bev continued. “Jonny made the comment earlier when I said Dad would likely ask him about getting engaged.”

“Speaking of getting engaged...” I said, looking at my mom with a raised eyebrow.

“I suspect he’ll ask at some point,” Mom said with a smile.

“And?”

“I’ll say ‘yes’, of course!”

“I’m happy for you, Mom!”

“I’m going to bed,” Mom said. “Try to keep the moaning and screaming to a minimum, please!”

I laughed, and Bev smacked my arm.

“Good night, kids!”

“Good night!” Bev and I both replied.

She went to her bedroom and Bev and I stayed in the living room, though Heather was sleeping in the portable crib in my room.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” I asked.

“I thought we’d just hang out,” Bev said. “The same for Saturday. If you wanted to go out, Mom will watch Heather.”

“Is there anything playing in the theater you want to see?”

“Not really. What about doing some Christmas shopping tomorrow at Eastgate Mall?”

“We could do that and have lunch out,” I suggested.

“Great!”

“What about dinner?”

“Why don’t we stay here and order pizza?” Bev offered. “We can invite your mom if she doesn’t have a date.”

“That sounds good. Will you promise me something?”

“What?”

“Let your mom handle your dad and don’t take his bait. Fighting with him isn’t a good strategy.”

“You don’t have to live with him,” Bev sighed.

“But you do,” I replied. “Which is my entire point! And what I don’t want is you deciding to pack up and move to Chicago because you and your dad had a fight. That’s allowing him to decide for us what we ought to do.”

“Have you considered being a lawyer?” Bev asked with a silly smile.

“No, and the law has no interest to me except insofar as I need to know the rules so I can play by them. Why do you say that?”

“Because your arguments have become entirely logical. Annoying, mind you, but logical!”

“Has there ever been a time I didn’t annoy you?” I asked with a grin.

“You never really annoyed me, Jonny. Well, except when you didn’t even talk to me about going to Chicago.”

“Something I deeply regret, and if I had a chance to do it over again, I would have handled things differently.”

“Were you serious about next Summer?”

“Yes. I know your dad will hate it, but if he wants us to be together, then he has to accept our decisions about the best way forward. I know he has his traditional views, and he’s welcome to them. But neither you nor I agree, and we’re both adults, at least in the eyes of the government.”

“He does still treat me like a kid.”

“Well, you are his daughter, and that will always be true. I’m positive he wants only what’s best for you, and what he wants and what you want don’t line up, at least in terms of timing.”

“And having a baby,” Bev replied.

“Do you believe your dad loves his granddaughter?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have to also believe he won’t actually do anything not in her best interest. He thinks, and I don’t necessarily disagree, that she should have a mother and a father. My mom managed, but why manage if you don’t have to? As much as you and your dad disagree, you agree on more.”

“You are very annoying, Jonny!” Bev exclaimed.

“You aren’t the first person to say that!” I chuckled.

“Who?”

“My friend Marcia,” I replied. “She’s part of the group my friend Jeri put together. Marcia works for Congressman Harold Washington, and Jeri is independently wealthy. The other members of the group, Gary and Nelson, are a Deputy Chief of Staff to the Mayor of Chicago and an attorney.”

“What’s the point of the group?”

“World domination,” I chuckled.

“Seriously?”

“I’m only half-jesting, but the point is to pool our resources in terms of contacts, knowledge, and so on, and achieve political and financial success, as well as influence the government to the extent we can. Mostly on a local level, but also national.”

“That is not something I ever felt I’d hear you say! You? Involved in politics?”

“Not directly, but having those contacts will allow me to do my job better, and I can provide them with financial advice, as well as explain how their political actions affect global markets. And not just stocks, but commodities and currencies as well.”

“I’m just amazed at how quickly you’ve moved up!”

“It really does come down to making the right contacts. My uncle got me into the Spurgeon mailroom and from there, it was really just a matter of being noticed and showing that I could work hard and that I could learn the material to pass the test. Everything else will be learned ‘on the job’ from the guys who do it.”

“You’re so confident!”

“If I don’t believe in myself, why should anyone else believe in me? That’s especially true given I’m going to ask people to give me their money to invest!”

“I see your point, it’s just not something I ever saw when we were growing up.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked.

Bev thought for a moment, “Actually, you were confident about your ability to work hard and follow directions. And in the hayloft!”

I laughed, “Well, the first time was successful, and I liked it, so I was confident I wanted to do it again! You sure were!”

“Well, I’m confident I want to go to bed with you right now!”

I took her hand, turned off the lights, and led her to the bedroom.

November 26, 1982, Goshen, Ohio

Bev and I slept in, and after a light breakfast, the two of us and Heather headed to Eastgate Mall so Bev could start her Christmas shopping. I hadn’t really considered who I’d need to buy presents for, so I did that while Bev shopped. I absolutely needed something for Violet, Lily, Bianca, and Shelly, and I felt I also needed something for the members of my group, who would be having dinner on the 22nd. I’d also need something for my mom and, of course, for Bev.

I realized I’d need to get something for Heather as well, but had no idea what to get. I decided I’d ask Mrs. Newton when I had a chance to do so privately, even if that meant calling her from Chicago. As we moved around the mall, with me pushing Heather’s stroller, I scanned the items for sale, trying to think about what I should buy each of my friends, and if my list was long enough. I got some good ideas, but didn’t make any purchases. We had lunch in the food court, then headed back to the house.

“Pull into our driveway,” Bev said. “It’s silly to bring it into the house or leave it out in the cold car.”

I did as she requested and she carried Heather into the house while I carried in the bags with the gifts she’d bought. She requested I take them up to her room, which I did, then went back out to get the car seat from my car and bring it into the house so I didn’t accidentally take it with me to Chicago. Just as I closed the door to the back seat, a beat-up Chevy pulled into the driveway behind me. A scruffy looking guy who I didn’t recognize got out.

“Can I help you?” I inquired.

“Does Beverly Newton live here?” he asked.

I suddenly became very suspicious.

“Why?” I asked.

“Does she live here or not?”

“She does,” I replied warily. “How can I help you?”

“I need to speak with her.”

“Jonathan?” Mr. Newton called from the front door. “What’s going on?”

“This guy is looking for Bev, but won’t tell me why.”

“Then he can get off my property,” Mr. Newton said.

“You heard him,” I said to the scruffy guy. “Get lost or I’ll call the Sheriff.”

“Is she here?” he asked again.

“Get lost,” I said. “If you don’t leave by the time I get into the house, I’ll call the Sheriff.”

I didn’t think he was a physical threat to me, given I was a good five inches taller and had at least thirty pounds on him. I also didn’t see a telltale bulge of someone who was carrying, so I turned and walked toward the house. I went inside and Mr. Newton closed and locked the door.

“Should I call the Sheriff?” I asked.

“He’s getting back into his car,” Mr. Newton said, looking out the window next to the door.

“Any idea who he is?”

“No. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Who?” Bev asked.

“A scruffy guy in his mid-twenties,” I said. “Shaggy brown hair, three days or so of beard, wiry, about five inches shorter than I am. He was driving a ratty Chevy Citation.”

“Do you know who he is, Bev?” Mr. Newton asked.

“No idea,” she replied. “What did he want?”

“He wouldn’t say,” I replied. “He just asked for you.”

“That’s odd,” Mrs. Newton said.

“He decided to leave when I said I was coming inside to call the Sheriff.”

“What could he possibly want?” Mrs. Newton asked.

“I have no idea,” Bev replied.

“You know, I think I’ll call the Sheriff anyway,” Mr. Newton said. “Just to be safe.”

“Bev, you and Jonathan should stay here until your dad speaks with the Sheriff,” Mrs. Newton advised.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I said to Bev.

“I’ll make some hot chocolate,” Mrs. Newton offered.

Bev had put Heather down for a nap, so she and I went to sit in the living room and her parents went to the kitchen. Her dad came back five minutes later.

“They took a report, but they won’t send anyone out unless he comes back,” he said. “I did give them his description and the make, model, and color of his car.”

“Do you think it’s a concern?” Mrs. Newton asked, coming into the room with a tray with four mugs of hot chocolate. She handed one to each of us, keeping the last one for herself.

“Who knows?” Mr. Newton said. “Better safe than sorry.”

Something dawned on me from an event I’d witnessed while working at the feed store.

“Do you think he might be a process server?” I asked. “I remember someone coming into the feed store looking for the owner, but wouldn’t say what he wanted. We told him to leave, but he hung around outside and when the owner walked out, the guy handed him a copy of a lawsuit.”

“Usually it’s the Sheriff or his deputies who serve papers in Clermont County,” Mr. Newton said. “Or they send them certified mail with a return receipt. I don’t know about private process servers, but I have heard of them.”

“Papers for what?” Bev asked.

“I can only think of one thing, unless you were in a car accident.”

“No accidents,” she replied, and then it obviously dawned on her. “Bob?”

“What else could it be?” I asked.

“But for what?”

“Custody or visitation,” Mr. Newton speculated.

“NO!” Bev gasped.

“He’ll never get custody,” Mr. Newton said. “Remember what Larry Walsh said? That the State of Ohio generally defers to the mother of an infant, except in extreme circumstances, and none of those apply.”

“I don’t want him seeing Heather!” Bev growled. “Not now; not ever!”

“We were only speculating, sweetheart,” Mr. Newton said. “But if the guy does come back, we’ll allow him to serve the papers, if that’s what he’s doing. And we’ll let Mr. Walsh handle it.”

“What could Bob do?” I asked.

“I don’t honestly know,” Mr. Newton said. “Well, he can’t get custody based on Ohio law, but beyond that, you got me. It was never discussed because it was all about him trying to avoid paying child support. He can’t get out of that, as we already have an order against him.”

“He can’t challenge it?” I asked.

“Child support is what Mr. Walsh called ‘statutory’, which means the law requires it, and sets the formula for the judge to use. He’ll have to pay even after you and Bev get married.”

I felt Bev tense next to me and I quickly put my hand on her arm in the hopes she wouldn’t take the bait.

“Jim,” Mrs. Newton said. “We discussed that.”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding as if he meant it. “I meant that marriage doesn’t change child support.”

“Bev, will you stay for dinner?” Mrs. Newton asked.