Chapter 10: Sanity Prevails

It took a couple of days before normalcy returned to the home. Sarah was badly shaken up by the events and it took all of Thomas's people skills to help her get over the trauma. Georgette was more resilient. After all, she'd been through this before. Nan acted as if nothing had happened. It was as if she'd swatted a pesky fly.

She had shot Bradley in the lower abdomen and crotch. He was fortunate that he was wearing fairly heavy pants and they absorbed some of the bird shot pellets. But not all of them. He was under guard in hospital before being moved to the San Francisco lockup. Three more serious charges were added to the already long list. This time there would be no bail.

The city police questioned us all individually and took the pistol and shotgun as evidence. There was some talk of Nan violating an ordinance about discharging a firearm within the city, but Devon reminded the district attorney's office that this was an election year and the fallout from trying to prosecute a seventy-nine year old woman for defending herself and her family would go over like a lead balloon. Once the police had confirmed Bradley Little's track record with the Placer County sheriff's department, the issue was dropped.

"You handled that 410 like an old pro," I said to Nan that weekend. We were sitting on the back deck once more and Nan was enjoying a Tequila Sunrise while I had my usual Anchor Steam.

"I've shot it a time or two. Usually just to get rid of pests. Crows and stray cats and the like. It doesn't have much of a kick and I don't shoot to kill, just to scare them off."

"It looked to me that you shot just where you were aiming," I suggested.

"Of course I did. I couldn't miss at ten feet. I didn't want to kill him, just knock him down so you could take the gun away from him. The look on your face told me you were about to jump him. I figured I'd better take him down before someone got shot, even accidentally. He didn't look too steady with it."

"I couldn't let him take Georgette. I had to take the risk, but you saved the day, Nan. You are one amazing lady," I smiled, hugging her to me.

"We had family to protect, Johnny. Family comes first ... always."

"Yeah. Always."

Bradley had been released from the hospital but was held in custody in San Francisco, facing an attempted murder charge to go along with his other crimes. There would be no bail since he had violated his bail conditions in Placer County.

"He didn't look anything like the Bradley I knew," Georgette said sadly. "I almost didn't recognize him. I wonder how he knew we were on the deck, though?"

"He probably heard voices if he were sneaking around the front," I said. "Kind of a risky thing, considering it was daylight still. I have a feeling he's deteriorated since we last saw him. Not just his appearance, but his mental state. I wouldn't be surprised if they sent him to a full security mental hospital for a while. He sure as hell won't get better in prison."

"As long as they keep him locked up and away from us," Georgette said. "I've stopped caring about what happens to him. I know I didn't love him, but he was my husband for a while. But ... now ... I just don't care. He threatened the people I love and I won't forgive that. Not ever!"

"I can't imagine he will be out on his own for a long time, Dear" I suggested. "I think we can finally say we've seen the last of him."

"You mind if an old girl joins you?" Nan's voice came from behind us.

"Not at all," I answered quickly. "Annie Oakley is always welcome in this group."

"Very funny," she said with a frown which quickly turned into a smile.

"John, there's something I wanted to show you. Would you and Georgie come with me?"

I looked at Georgette and she shrugged, indicating she didn't know what this was about. Nan led the way across the shallow yard toward her garage. I saw her take a small black device out of her slacks pocket as we walked around the garage toward the lane. As we arrived at the front, I could see the garage door was lifting and revealing a dust-laden fitted cover over a large object.

Georgette was squeezing my arm and had a mile-wide smile on her kisser. She knew what this was. We carefully removed the dusty shroud from what turned out to be a very large car. As we took the cover outside and hung it over the fence, I turned back to see what we had revealed. It was a red convertible, and it was in what appeared to be very new condition. Except, it was not a new car.

"This is Cleopatra's Barge," Nan announced. "My husband Harlan named it that when he got it fifty-seven years ago. It's a 1953 Buick Roadmaster Convertible. We had some great times just cruising around with the top down back in those days. Two years before he passed, he had it all updated and repainted to make it just like new, only better. The top is new, the tires and other things that tend to rot are new. I have a list of all the things that were fixed or changed on it.

"It'll take a few hours to get it running again, but when it is, it will be my engagement gift to you two. I can't drive it ... I couldn't even when I was young. It was just too much car for me. But I'd like to see you two lovebirds enjoying it just like my Harlan intended. I don't want to see it in my garage like this any more. I want to see it out on the road."

I was stunned. We were stunned. The car, what we could see of it, was beautiful. Painted what I called fire-engine red in color, with white, gray and red upholstery, and huge whitewalls on wire spoke wheels. It was amazing with its sleek, swooping chrome strip arcing down to the rocker panel in front of the rear wheel, then following the wheel opening up before running straight to the tail lights.

The fabric top was an off white and the dust cover had protected it from getting dirty or moldy. As much as I could see inside the cabin, it was completely restored with electric windows, a power top, an automatic transmission and a radio. I had never seen one of these before and I was fascinated. I would love to have seen it in the sunlight, but for now there was no way to move it.

"I don't know what to say, Nan. This is too much. You and the family have been so generous to me ... to my family ... that we feel overwhelmed. I just don't know what to say."

"Say 'thank you, ' Darling," Georgette crooned in my ear. "It's something you're just going to have to get used to. One of these days, you and I will sit down with Nan and she'll tell you how all this came about. It's an amazing story, and I'm hoping a hundred years from now, the name John Smith will be a big part of that story."

I really didn't have any sense of just how wealthy the two families were that I was involved with. It must be substantial, and yet they didn't live like kings. Oh, true, the house was a magnificent tribute to a bygone era, but they lived relatively modest lives. No servants, no really exotic toys except the lodge, but the underpinnings of the families spoke of financial security for some time to come. That was the difficult part for me. They were generous and thankful and welcoming to me and I didn't know how to handle it.

"Nan, this is a rare gift. It will be treated with the love your late husband felt for it and you. I will make sure it remains in the family and is kept in the condition he would have expected. Thank you," I said, embracing her and kissing her cheek.

"Georgie-Girl, this young man is going to be a winner. I can feel it in my bones. You've caught a rare one here."

"I already know that, Nan. We're going to make sure this family continues to thrive. Who knows, if we have three children, one might be a lawyer, one a venture capitalist, and one an inventor. How would that suit you?"

"If I live long enough to see those three great-grandchildren, I'll be a very happy woman," she said brightly.

"Well, we aren't going to waste a lot of time getting started, are we Darling?" she turned to me.

"I've been given my instructions, Nan. I know my duty. I'm sure you'll be around long after you're able to bounce the youngest on your knee."

"That's my boy! I know you two will make some beautiful babies."

The car had been stored properly and it only took a few hours to refill the fluids, re-inflate the tires, recharge the battery, and vacuum the last of the dust off. When I looked over the list of modifications, I saw that the electrics had been upgraded to twelve volt from six, the brakes upgraded to oversized but still drum, and the tires were made of modern material but in the proper period size and style, complete with wide whitewalls.

When the mechanic started it and let it idle for a minute or so, it ticked over so quietly I had to approach it to be sure it was running. He backed it out of the garage and I rode with him as he brought it around to the front of the house and parked it carefully at the curb. I got out of it and walked away to get a good look at it. It was magnificent.

It immediately attracted a crowd who wanted to know all about it and for most of them, what it was. And what was it? It was a fifty-seven year old icon of American pride and achievement. It had style and grace and said the owner was a success. I couldn't wait to drive it and have Georgette by my side, the top down, the wind in our hair, an object of envy and admiration as we rolled along.

I spent several hours cleaning out Nan's garage and making more room for the Buick. The owner's manual was in the glove box and said that this was a Buick Roadmaster Skylark. The manual itself was a piece of history. To me, the most striking feature on the car was the grill. When I found the time, I looked up the car on the Internet and learned more about it, but to me, the reality was the steel and rubber and fabric that I could touch and sit on and experience.

Devon and Thomas were delighted that the car was back on the road. Devon was too young to remember it, but he and Thomas had the same impression of it as I did. This was something special to be treasured and protected. There was no way it was going to be sitting in some supermarket parking lot to be the target of some careless person's shopping cart. This was a car for special occasions, like a wedding for instance.

I had finished my final examinations and I was reasonably confident in the results. It was time to head for Coeur d'Alene with Georgette. The Buick would stay in the garage and we would rely on the BMW to get us to my home. We said our goodbyes to everyone bright and early on a Wednesday morning and set off for northern Idaho.

We pushed hard that first day, spelling each other off with the driving every two hours. We stopped in Bend, Oregon for the night and got another early start the next morning. We arrived at the Lakeside Motor Inn just before three on Friday afternoon. The first person I saw was my father carrying his tool box toward the office. I honked the horn and he turned to see who it was. He didn't recognize the car right away, but a moment later he waved, put down the box and waited for us to park.

"Hey, Dad. Good to see you. Still doing my job, huh," I kidded as we hugged and then shook hands.

Georgette got a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as we walked to the office to greet Mom.

"John! Welcome home," Mom gushed, grabbing me in a big hug and giving me a kiss. "And Georgette ... so good you could spend some time here too," Mom repeated her greeting, complete with a hug and a kiss.

We would be staying in my old room in the main building and Dad helped me with our luggage and getting organized. There was no pretense that we weren't sleeping together.

My brother Jared walked in and grabbed me and hugged me too.

"I heard you got in some trouble this time," he said, casting a glance at Georgette. "If this is the lady you were with, then it was worth it. Hi, I'm Jared, John's brother."

"Hi Jared, I'm Georgette Fulton, your brother's soon-to-be fiancée."