The Jamie Series #11

Mending Fences.

by Gillian

William Ellison trudged down the fairway ahead of his caddie, reminding himself that he had taken up golf for the exercise, and trying to ignore the quiet golf carts that trundled by, carrying two players a piece. He putted well on the eighth, coming in one under par, and then waited for his turn to tee up on the ninth. Saturday morning wasn't the wisest choice of days to play on a busy course, he speculated, but he had awoken feeling restless and a brisk walk on this fine May morning had seemed like a good idea.

"William? William Ellison?"

"William turned to face the man calling his name, frowning as he studied the familiar features.

"It's Robert," the man supplied, thrusting out a hand. "Robert Bergman. It's a few years since we worked together on the Tsukikage deal."

William made the connection as soon as the man spoke, and he shook the proffered hand. "Ten at least," he said, narrowing his eyes as he cast his mind back. "That was one hell of a year though, wasn't it?"

"It's what the business was all about," Robert agreed. "I envy you your memory, William. You know, I must have met your son Jim half a dozen times before I made the connection between the two of you."

"Cascade is really just a big small town at times," William commented. A niggling at the back of his mind was telling him there was something he should be remembering about Bergman, but he couldn't quite grasp it. "So, how do you know Jimmy? Not in trouble with the Cascade PD are you?" he joked.

Bergman smiled, shaking his head. "Nah, I manage to keep out of trouble. Actually his partner, Blair, was a friend of my son, Andrew."

William automatically felt his spine stiffen at the mention of his son's 'partner', and then the missing piece of the puzzle fell into place. Bergman's son had been killed the year before, now William could remember reading it in the newspaper.

"I was sorry to hear about your son," William said sincerely. His own memories of losing Jim to the jungle were still too fresh.

Robert nodded, his eyes somber. "It's been more than a year now," he said. "Sometimes the time seems to have flown, at others it feels like a lifetime has passed." He sighed.

William nodded, searching his memory, which fortunately was still sharp even after two years of retirement. "How is... Sarah?"

"Oh, you know. It's been hard." Robert fiddled with the Velcro fastening of his club. Then he looked up at Ellison, a quick smile crossing his face. "I'll tell you, William. That grandson of yours helps pull her out of her doldrums. I have your son and Blair to thank for that."

"Jamie?" William said in surprise.

"Hmm. When she's running around after him she doesn't have time to brood. It's getting to the stage where I think she's going to offer to treat Jim and Blair to a night out just so she can baby-sit the boy." Robert chuckled at his own joke.

William didn't realize his hands were clenched until his arthritic joints protested.

"Done much baby-sitting?" he asked, desperately trying to disguise the shock he felt. This man, this stranger, was talking about baby-sitting his grandson.

"Oh, not as much as Sarah would like," Robert said absently, studying the players on the green. "My group is up next, care to join us?"

"No, thanks," William said as politely as he could manage. "I think I'll head off to the club house after the ninth."

William watched Robert's group play, and then took their place on the green as they moved away. His temper was so high his hands should have been shaking, but instead of bungling his shots he dropped the ball into the cup in two shots, drawing applause from the players waiting. William retrieved his ball and walked back to his caddie, barely acknowledging the praise. He had always performed well under pressure.

Once at the club house Ellison changed his shoes and headed into the bar, ordering a single malt and carrying it to a quiet corner table.

One time only, he thought bitterly. One time Jim had asked him to baby-sit, and even then only grudgingly and in desperation. To add insult to injury he had then changed his mind, preferring to ignore his responsibilities at work rather than entrust his sick child to his father.

William had tried to ignore the pang that gave him, but now it hit him anew. The knowledge that the Bergmans, people who were virtual strangers, were more intimate with his grandchild than he was stung badly.

Pulling out his wallet, William flipped it open to the small photograph he had found tucked into his Christmas card this year. It was a picture of Jamie on Santa's lap, looking dubiously up at the jolly man, one set of pudgy fingers wrapped in the flowing fake beard.

With brooding eyes William studied the baby in the picture. Brown silky hair, tan cheeks, wide dark eyes. It hadn't been an easy thing to accept, that his only grandson was the son of strangers from a foreign country. No Ellison blood flowed in his veins, no trace of family resemblance would ever be seen. Yet this child bore the name James Ellison. William's son's name. William's father's name before that. Until Steven married and produced heirs this exotic child was the last Ellison.

For surely there would be no natural children from Jim's union.

William frowned, tracing the flat surface of the photograph with sensitive fingers. He figured Blair had slipped this snapshot into the card. Jim wouldn't have thought of it. He was grateful to his son's lover for thinking of him, even while he resented him for it.

In his darkest moments he had mockingly dubbed Blair his 'daughter-in-law', but in truth William knew he had many reasons to be grateful to the young man. Blair had always been on the side of reconciliation between William and his son.

William had had an actual daughter-in-law once, but she had never gone out of her way to be friendly with him, correctly interpreting the rift that existed between her husband and her father-in-law. In truth, he had barely known her.

In truth he barely knew his son any better.

"Pathetic old man," William muttered, draining his glass with one gulp and standing up from the table. He tucked his wallet away and headed for his car. Driving home he tried to push away the bitter mood that was engulfing him, consoling himself with the reminders of the great strides he had made in his relationship with Jim over the last year. They were speaking at least, communicating for the first time in years. That was something.

But it wasn't enough, William admitted to himself, turning into the driveway and switching off the engine. For a moment he sat in the front seat, staring up at the big old house. Then he climbed out of the car and headed inside.

"You're early," Sally commented in surprise when he walked in the back door.

"Course was too crowded," William said shortly, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the kitchen table.

"I see," Sally said thoughtfully, swirling the icing around the top of a chocolate cake. "Are you hungry? I can make sandwiches."

William shrugged. "No thanks." He sat in silence for a while, watching Sally's familiar movements as she set the cake aside and washed out the bowls and spatulas. Finally she dried her hands and poured herself a cup of coffee, bringing it to the table and sitting opposite him.

"What's wrong?" she asked bluntly, sipping from her mug.

"Nothing," William said irritably, resenting her perception. After all these years she knew him too well.

"Don't give me that," she scolded. The years had also worn down the barriers between them. "Something's put you in a bad mood. Now, what happened?"

"I met a man I used to work with," Ellison said grudgingly.

"And?"

"And he knows Jim, all right?" William snapped. "Can I have some of that cake?"

"Help yourself," Sally invited.

Grumbling under his breath, William did.

"So he knows Jimmy. Was just the mention of your son enough to sour your mood?"

"Ha ha," William cut two thick slices and laid them on a plate which he deposited between them on the table.

"Well then?" Sally demanded.

"This man and his wife, they baby-sit, Jamie," William said in disbelieving tones. "Can you believe that?"

"Ahh," Sally said, nodding her head.

"Well, can you?" William demanded. "I've barely seen the boy since they adopted him, and these people are baby-sitting him!"

"Have you offered to baby-sit him?" Sally asked in reasonable tones.

"I would have had him a few weeks ago if Jim hadn't whisked him away." William reminded her.

"Yes. But have you offered? Have you called them up, dropped by for a chat, invited them over here."

Speechless, William stared at her. "Why should I?" he finally managed. "I made the first move last time, and the time before that!"

"Then you better make the first move next time, and the time after that," Sally advised.

"Why should I?" William repeated indignantly. "I have been making allowances since we reconciled. I accepted Blair, didn't I? Do you think that was easy? I showed up for the adoption proceedings, offered to help out financially. Why doesn't Jim take a step towards me?"

"Because Jim has a family now, Will," Sally explained patiently. "He had twenty years to learn how to live without a father. The sad truth here is that you need him a lot more than he needs you."

"I don't need him," William said sullenly, feeling betrayed by Sally's words.

"Yes, you do," she chided. "Once you thought you didn't and for a long time you had your work and even me to fill up all the empty places inside you. But you don't have sixteen hour days and six day working weeks any more, do you, Will? Am I wrong, or aren't you the one that told me you had changed? That you were a different man now?"

William stared broodingly into his coffee cup. It was true, he had said that. He believed that. There was nothing like turning sixty-five to make a man take stock of his life. Nothing like an empty house full of memories and the loud ticking of a clock in silent rooms to hammer home the lifetime of mistakes that had led him to this place.

"So what if I do need him?" he added quietly. "And there's no room in his life for me?"

"Make room!" Sally said, tapping his hand smartly. "Push your way into that family, Will. You are Jimmy's father, you have a place there. You're Jamie's grandfather, the only one he has, as it happens. That's a very special relationship."

"I'm supposed to make all the moves here?" he asked dryly.

"Why not?" Sally said simply. "You made most of the mistakes to begin with. And really," she continued while he squirmed a bit. "What else have you got to do? Play golf?"

"I hate golf," William muttered.

Sally raised her eyebrows at him, and then dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Grudgingly William felt his mouth curling and then he was chuckling too.

000

William Ellison sat in his car outside his son's loft, struggling with himself. Fired by enthusiasm after his discussion with Sally he had hopped in his car and driven right over here, and now he was thinking twice about it.

After all, it was lunch time on a Saturday. They were bound to be busy weren't they? It just didn't seem polite to drop in unannounced.

Just as William had resolved to chicken out and leave it for another day, Jim's blue Ford drove up and pulled in next to him.

"Dad!" Jim said in surprise, pushing open his door. Blair was sitting in the passenger side, Jamie strapped into a seat between them. "Were you waiting for us?"

Trapped, William climbed out of his car. "Yes," he admitted. "I was on my way home from playing golf, and I thought I'd drop in. If it's a bad time..."

"Actually you could make our lives easier right now," Blair suggested, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes and looking hopeful. "Keep hold of Jamie while we unload the groceries?"

William studied the two dozen odd bags in the back of the truck.

"Did you buy out the whole store?" he asked incredulously.

Jim was unfastening Jamie and William found the sturdy toddler dumped into his arms.

"We do a big shop every month," Jim said shortly, beginning to gather white plastic bags.

William had little choice but to follow Jim and Blair as they trooped across the road, laden with bags. Jamie was quite a weight in his arms, and William glanced at him curiously, amused to note that he was being studied just as curiously.

"We appreciate this," Blair said as they rode up in the elevator together. "Jamie has been driving us nuts this morning, shopping day makes him excited."

"Yeah, thanks, Dad," Jim said grumpily. "You saved your grandson from being drop kicked off the balcony."

William stifled a laugh as the lift doors opened and Jim paced down the hall to unlock the loft door. Where was the caring Jim Ellison who had cradled his son so tenderly just a few weeks before?

"Jim really hates shopping day," Blair confided in a loud whisper, following the big man down the hall.

Once inside the spacious loft the two men dumped the bags and headed back to the truck for the rest, leaving William alone with his grandson.

"Well, boy," William said. "What do we do now?"

"Potty," Jamie said.

William was assailed by panic. "What?" he stuttered.

"Potty," Jamie repeated, beginning to look urgent.

"Uh, okay. We can do this." William thought fast, carrying Jamie down the hall, glad he had been to the loft before. "Potty is bound to be..." He opened a door and breathed a sigh of relief. "In the bathroom." He deposited Jamie on the floor in front of it and the toddler looked up at him trustingly.

"Oh, right," William realized, crouching down on creaking knees to free Jamie from his pants and diaper. The little boy then clambered onto his potty chair and sat down.

Blair appeared in the bathroom doorway. "There you are," he said, then his face took on a surprised expression. "Did he ask for that?"

"Yes," William said, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"That's great," Blair enthused. "I've found toilet training involves a great deal of praise," he murmured in an aside to Ellison Sr. "Good boy."

"Blair!" Jim bellowed from the kitchen and the younger man winced.

"His master's voice," he muttered.

William watched bemused as Blair skittered back down the hall, and then he was bought back to earth by Jamie clambering back off his potty. "Flush," he prompted his grandfather and after a quick inspection and wipe of a dimpled butt, William complied.

"Um, we better wash our hands," William said, turning on the tap and holding Jamie's little hands in his as he soaped. The boy squirmed and giggled, flicking soap bubbles everywhere.

After rinsing and drying William managed to get him back into his dry diaper and pants and then stood back in satisfaction.

"Good boy," he praised, remembering Blair's words. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Jamie led the way back down the hall and William followed, smiling to himself at the odd turn his day had taken. Just a few hours ago he was bemoaning his lack of involvement in his son's life, and now here he was wiping bottoms and putting on diapers. Weird.

"No, the ice cream first," Blair was saying as William followed the toddler past the kitchen. "It's gonna melt."

"You bought Rocky Road," Jim said in dismay. "I hate Rocky Road."

"I like it," Blair said, taking the canister out of his hands and tossing it into the fridge. "I bought chocolate for you and Jamie."

William walked past them into the lounge area, where he gratefully sat down in an armchair. Crouching and carrying toddlers was wearing on an old man's knees.

Jamie trotted over to him carrying a bright wooden engine. "Train," he said, handing it to his grandfather.

"It certainly is," William agreed.

Jamie trotted away and then back with a stuffed toy. "Nelephant."

"Yep, that's an elephant," William concurred.

William placed the elephant on the arm of the chair with the train and watched his grandson toddle over to the corner of the loft. He admired the clever setup Jim and Blair had put together. Wooden railings blocked the corner at right angles, creating a large square area dotted with soft cushions and colorful rugs. A toy chest overflowed and there was even a tiny tent like arrangement printed with jungle flowers and plants. A gate on one side of the enclosure was wide open, but William could see how it could be swung shut to keep an active child safely in one place.

Jamie trotted back, this time bearing a tiny baby doll with pink skin and golden blonde curls. William raised his eyes and glanced over at his son, but Jim was busy arguing with Blair about vegetables.

"Amy," Jamie informed him, cradling the doll in his arms. "Shh, sleeping."

Then he broke the tender moment by grasping the dolls golden curls and thrusting her at his grandfather with a grin. "Amy."

William accepted her, unable to stifle a smile in return, even though he wasn't sure he liked the idea of his grandson with a baby doll. He smoothed the dolls curls back into place and placed it with the other toys. This time Jamie presented him with a book. "Story," he said, raising his arms. "Up, up."

In the kitchen Blair was handing Jim a beer. "Go sit on the patio and unwind," he urged and Jim accepted the bottle with a sigh.

Blair looked over at the lounge chair as Jim disappeared and rolled his eyes. "Thanks for this," he said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Would you like one?" he offered, and William shook his head.

The young man collapsed on the couch opposite them and sighed tiredly.

"You look frazzled," William commented and Blair grinned.

"That's the word for it."

"Why don't you go sit outside with Jim and unwind as well?" William offered, unsure where the urge was coming from, but going with it because it felt right.

"You sure?" Blair said uncertainly.

William waved the book. "We'll be fine."

"Story," Jamie repeated.

Opening the first page Ellison Sr. began reading the words, pointing out the colorful pictures to Jamie as he finished a page. His attention was focused on the couple outside though, watching as Blair stood beside Jim at the railing, staring out over the city view and drinking from his beer bottle now and then.

Finally, as he was nearing the end of the story Jim lifted an arm and pulled Blair to him. William focused back onto the page, uncomfortable to be snooping on a private moment, but he couldn't help the glances he shot over to the couple again. How odd it was to see his son with his arm wrapped around a man, to know that that man was his lover.

How odd it was to not know ones own son, to be shocked and surprised when after all these years that son revealed a side of himself that his father had never even suspected existed.

And yet, how right they looked side by side out there, Blair's arm wrapped around Jim's waist, his curly head tucked into Jim's neck.

Jamie was a heavy weight against him, and William carefully closed the big picture book and laid it aside. Then he lifted the sleeping boy into his arms and cradled him on his lap, feeling an uprising tenderness at the flushed cheeks and blue veined eyelids

Blair sat down opposite him. "You are a miracle worker," he said quietly and William nodded.

"It was my pleasure," he whispered.

"I'll put him down, and maybe we'll get a few hours peace and quiet."

Blair leaned over and gathered up the dead weight, and William watched wistfully as he carried the baby away, his arms feeling a sudden chill.

The young man paused and turned, and then he tilted his head toward the patio where Jim still stood, gazing out at the city. Blair winked, and then continued on his way.

Taking the hint, William stood up and made his way out to the patio. Jim looked over at him with a smile when he joined him by the rail.

"Sorry about my mood earlier, Dad."

"No problem," William said easily.

"There's just something about grocery shopping that turns my well behaved son into an imp of Satan," Jim groaned.

His dad grinned at the description. "He's pretty special," he commented, nodding back towards the loft interior.

"Hmm, well, ask me again on a day when he hasn't forgotten the meaning of the word 'No'. Jim said dubiously.

"Okay, I will," William chuckled.

There was an easy silence between them for a while and William sighed in contentment.

"Dad, I wanted to apologize for the other week as well," Jim said slowly. "I know I ran out of there pretty quickly, and I meant to call and apologize."

"It's okay," William interjected.

"No, really, I did," Jim insisted. "Things just got away from me, that's all. We've been so busy."

"I understand busy," his dad said quickly and Jim nodded.

"Did you... Was it all right at work?" William asked into the silence.

Jim smiled crookedly. "Well, my boss isn't going to let me forget it in a hurry, that's for sure."

William cast his mind back to that day, Jamie crying pitifully, Jim so tender and concerned for him.

"I think..." William broke off, wondering if Jim gave a damn what he thought. His son was looking at him curiously and Ellison Sr. decided to speak his mind. "I think you're a good father," he finally said.

Jim's face reflected his surprise. "Thanks, Dad."

"In fact, I think you're already a better father than I ever was," William continued honestly. "Than I am."

Jim didn't argue with him or burst into polite denials and William appreciated his son not resorting to platitudes. The younger man simply looked at him out of those pale blues eyes. Eyes so like his mother's.

"I know I can't make up for the mistakes of the past, Jimmy. But I was wondering if maybe we could go on from here, you know? Maybe, build something new?"

For the longest time Jim didn't speak, only looking at his father out of those eyes, eyes that almost seemed to see through him, to his core, testing the sincerity of the words.

And then Jim was smiling, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

"I'd like that, Dad," he said simply and William huffed out a laugh of relief.

"Good," he said happily, patting his sons arm. "Good. I'm glad."

"You want to stay for lunch?" Jim invited easily.

"You sure it's no trouble?"

"No trouble. You can help make the sandwiches."

000

Later that evening after about a dozen 'I told you so's' from Sally, William sat in his study, gazing at his phone. Did he dare push his luck that far? With a shrug he picked up the receiver and dialed.

"Stevie? It's your old man. Hi, son."

The End

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