Baby Grand 
The Beginning 
First Novel in the 
Baby Grand Series
by Bill Ellingsen

Baby Grand: The Beginning 
by Bill Ellingsen
Published by Bill Ellingsen at Smashwords 
Copyright © 2012 by Bill Ellingsen 
All rights reserved
Cover design by Daniel Cosgrove
Copyright © 2012 by Bill Ellingsen 
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, places, and events portrayed are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by any means without permission. 

Stories in the Series 
Baby Grand: The Beginning
Baby Grand II: The Conspiracy
Baby Grand III: The Big Time
Other Books by the Author 
BoonieRats
One Lowly Angel
No Former Brothers
and 
Breezee’s Shared Custody 
coming soon!

Chapter One
May 2009
“Kevin, it’s time for dinner.”
“Okay, Momster, I’ll be right there.”
Fair-haired little Kevin Johnson sometimes called his mother “Momster,” not to be confused with monster. It was a pet name she had no problem with because she knew that he loved and respected her. His mother was no monster—far from it. She was a great mom and a doctor of internal medicine at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. That’s where the three of them lived, Rochester, or Med City, Minnesota. His father was a doctor, too, only he was a plastic surgeon. He claimed it was an art, and if that were true he was a very well paid artist. Kevin was an only child, and some thought spoiled because of it. It wasn’t true, but to be honest he was a bit “privileged” because both parents worked a lot, earned lots of money, and felt guilty about not spending enough time with him. About the only thing they did together was dine, but how much time did a fourteen-year-old really want to spend with his parents? 
They had a housekeeper, Mrs. Olander, who came in weekdays from two o’clock until at least one parent was home, which was typically around six. If they got home earlier she could leave, and they still paid her for the full four hours. But everybody liked her and she had become almost like family, so she usually stayed and ate her wonderfully cooked meals with them. Mrs. Olander was a widow and lived alone.
Kevin locked-up the firewall on his computer and headed downstairs.
“Hi, Dad,” he said upon seeing his father. “I didn’t even hear you come home.” 
“Hi, Kev,” his father said, smiling. At least his mouth was smiling, sort of. It was put-on, and there was an expression in his eyes that Kevin couldn’t make out. 
Three places were set at the table, each with a salad waiting. 
“Isn’t Mrs. Olander eating with us?” 
“No. We want to talk to you alone, Kev,” his dad said, sounding serious, reminiscent of the time they signed him up for piano lessons, a total disaster. They both played the piano, or at least they used to. When they’d played duets on their baby grand, their love and passion for each other had been embarrassingly obvious, spelling out what was next on their agenda. There was nothing lewd about their routine—they’d performed in front of company, even family—but Kevin knew the score and was sure everyone else did, too. Realizing his parents had a sex life was one thing. Imagining them going at it under the same roof while he was trying to sleep was another. And sleep always seemed elusive on those nights when he was aware of their goings-on. It was astonishing that they could be so open about it in front of him, and yet he suspected they had been keeping some sort of secret from him all his life. 
He used to think it was that he had been adopted, on account of his height. Mom was five-eight—three inches above average, Dad topped six feet—over an inch and a half above average, and Kevin was five-five-and-a-half when he hopped out of bed at the break of dawn and put on thick, fluffy crew socks. The average for an almost fifteen-year-old boy was roughly five-seven—so he wasn’t a dwarf—but that was if they had average-in-height parents. He should have been above, not below, the norm. It would be one thing if he hadn’t gone through puberty—that would explain his slow growth—but he had. His voice had changed over a year ago, and his pubic hair—although fair—was abundant. He even shaved twice a week. He found a formula online to predict how tall he should grow to, given his parents’ stature. He should get to be taller than his dad, but his growing time may peak in a year or so and it wasn’t looking good. That was why he suspected adoption. 
He didn’t work up the nerve to come right out and ask his mother—talking to his Dad about it hadn’t even been a consideration—so he nonchalantly inquired why he was so short when they were so tall. She was a doctor, she ought to know. Mom told him it was likely because he had been born prematurely, so it might take him longer to grow into his full height. 
Back to the piano debacle: Three years ago his parents aspired for him to follow in their footsteps—playing the piano, he was sure, not flirting shamelessly with a member of the opposite sex and taking her to bed afterward. After several lessons, the piano teacher lost her temper and called him an idiot. She hadn’t actually said it but that’s what she implied. Could he help it if notes were like hieroglyphics to him? Then she refused to instruct him any further. It was actually what he wanted, too. But, still, it was insulting. It was like the plumber refusing to fix one’s toilet because they weren’t worthy. 
His mother walked into the room, sat down, spread her napkin onto her lap and nodded for him to do the same. He hadn’t noticed when she was upstairs, probably because he hadn’t actually looked at her, but her eyes were red like she had been crying. Whatever was coming down had to be worse than piano lessons. He looked to his dad who tried smiling again, but this attempt was really lame. 
“What do you want to talk about?” Kevin asked, nervously glancing from one to the other. 
“Let’s eat our salads,” Mom said, ignoring his question. 
Something was about to happen that Kevin wasn’t going to like, he just knew it. 
He looked at his dad again, but he didn’t reciprocate. He just poured dressing on his salad and then started to eat. First they wanted to talk to him alone, and now they were eating in complete silence. What was going on? He doubted they were losing their jobs, so it wasn’t likely they’d be going through a foreclosure. His father poured a glass of wine, handed it to his mother, and then poured one for himself. 
As Kevin crunched his lettuce, he wondered if one of them was going in for rehab. He knew kids whose parents had to do that, and he went to a nice school. Nah, he’d never seen either of them even close to tipsy. What other awful things happened to families? Oh, no. Divorce? That had to be it. They hadn’t been lovey-dovey for eons, more like cordial. Consequently, he hadn’t had to deal with those disconcerting mental images of them “doing it” for quite some time. He’d been relieved, assumed they’d outgrown their need for sexual gratification. After all, they were pushing fifty. But perhaps their cooling off had been a sign of trouble, not a heightened level of maturity. He looked at both of them again and again while finishing his salad. Once in awhile they nervously glanced at one another, but avoided eye contact with him. 
“I’m going to get dinner. It’s your favorite, Kevin,” his mother said and got up. 
He began to feel as if this was their last meal together, but even so looked forward to it since he really liked Mrs. Olander’s chicken and broccoli. She put in water chestnuts, too, so it had a pleasant crunch to it. 
“Grab a roll, Kev. Mrs. Olander made them just for you,” his dad said, sounding like he was trying to butter him up. Mom came back carrying a serving dish and stood by Kevin, waiting for him to take his first. He looked up at her, and she smiled. It was a weak one but earnest, unlike his father’s. He dished up, and then she went to his father and waited for him to do the same. He looked at her and smiled another fake smile. She sat down and, after having dinner on her plate, cut a piece of chicken. 
“You aren’t getting divorced are you?” Kevin blurted out. “‘Cause if you are I’ll never speak to either of you again for the rest of my life.” 
His mother’s fork and jaw dropped at about the same time. But then she gave his dad a cool gaze. “That must ring a bell, huh, Paul?” she challenged with an icy tone. 
Kevin’s father looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Seems like what goes around really does come around, doesn’t it?” Mom added, eyes still fixed on him. 
Kevin had never seen her like this. And it wasn’t like she was speaking a foreign language, but he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, either. His father must have, though, judging by the guilty look on his face. 
“No … nothing like that Kev,” Dad affirmed, almost apologetically. 
“Then what is it? Did you do a bad boob job so you’re getting sued or something?” 
Only proper English was spoken at the Johnson household—no slang words allowed. But Kevin was anxious, sure that his life was about to change, and not for the better. 
“Kevin,” his mother reprimanded, turning her attention back to him, “we do not talk that way. And, no, your father isn’t getting sued.”
“You mean you are?”
“No,” Dad piped in, “nobody’s getting sued. Let’s eat and we’ll talk afterward.”
“You can’t do this to me! I can’t stand the suspense. Just tell me the bad news and get it over with.”
“Relax, Kevin,” Mom said, sounding like she was back to her nice, normal self. “It isn’t bad news. You may not like the idea of it at first, but I think it’s for the better, and long overdue.” Then she looked at Dad and nodded.
Kevin was being tag-teamed. 
“We want you to spend a couple months or so at your grandmother’s and grandfather’s place this summer,” Dad told him, and then glanced at Mom. Her mood softened. Some sort of unsaid communication had occurred. All of a sudden they seemed right with each other. Better than in a long time. 
Kevin looked back and forth at them, waiting. “In Minneapolis?” he finally asked, unable to hold off any longer. 
“No,” Dad said stiffly, “the other grandparents.” 
“Why?” Kevin said in a panic. “What did I do wrong?” He didn’t know his paternal grandparents. Not really. He had never heard of them until last summer, thinking his dad was an orphan, and only met them that one time at their backyard Fourth of July party. His dad didn’t even like them—his own parents—so there had to be something seriously wrong with them. 
“Nothing,” his father replied. “Nobody did anything wrong. Let’s eat before it gets cold. We’ll talk about it later.”
Both parents were steadfast and continued eating, and Kevin could tell he wouldn’t get any more out of them until doing the same. He finished first and set his fork down, loudly enough so they would know it but not so hard as to appear rude. They just took their time. Dad poured himself another glass of wine. Maybe he was going away to dry out.
“Mrs. Olander made your favorite coconut cream pie for dessert, Kevin,” Mom said.
“Yeah, that’s great, but why do I have to go away for two months?”
“Two months or so,” Dad clarified vaguely. “Your mother and I are going to Costa Rica.” 
He couldn’t believe it! They were going on an extended vacation without him, probably to an adults-only beach resort, no doubt an attempt to rekindle their love-life. Confirming their guilt, Mom’s face reddened and Dad gave him another sheepish smile. Kevin got up and started walking away. 
“Get back here, young man,” his father said in his seldom used stern voice. 
The truth was: Kevin had tears in his eyes and didn’t want them to see. He stopped in his tracks, though, and Mom came over and put an arm around him, gently guided him back to his chair. She put her hands on the sides of his face, kissed him on the forehead, and then motioned for him to sit. 
“We’re going to work at a mission hospital down there,” Dad explained. “We volunteered to help people who really need it.”
“What? The natives need nose jobs?”
“Sometimes people are horribly disfigured, Kevin. Your mother and I can do some real good there.” 
“So you’re just ditching me?” 
“We’ll be living in fairly primitive conditions,” Mom made clear. “And, besides, there wouldn’t be much of anything for you to do.”
“Oh, and I suppose there will be at those people’s place?” Kevin spat out. 
“Your grandmother Keely and grandfather Don are wonderful, interesting people and, yes, you’ll have plenty to do. It’ll be fun,” she added. 
He looked to his dad who looked away. “Why can’t I stay with Gramma and Grampa in Minneapolis?” He had to find an out from this nightmare.
“They’ll be having … other company,” Mom said nervously. 
“Don’t those other people live out in the boondocks,” Kevin shot back, sensing his mother’s weakness—looking to his dad for support and getting none—“and the nearest town is like nothing?”
“Darlington is a great little town,” his mother insisted. “And they aren’t those people—they’re your grandparents, Grandmother Keely and Grandfather Don and that’s what you’ll call them and refer to them as from now on.” 
“Maybe Darlington, South Carolina is a great town,” he countered defiantly, showing off his knowledge of geography, desperate to prove himself right about something. The truth was that he was a closet NASCAR fan. His parents thought it was something only hicks should be interested in. 
“Darlington, Wisconsin is charming,” said Mom, “as are Grandmother Keely and Grandfather Don.” 
“So, how long have they known about this?” 
His mother, who he didn’t think he’d ever call “Momster” again, said, “I talked to them a couple weeks ago. We knew you’d get upset at first, so we didn’t tell you right away. You know I … we love you, Kevin. But please try to understand what we’re doing and how important this is for us.”
“What about Mrs. Olander? Did you ever think about her? She might need the money, you know. What if she gets another job while you’re gone? She might not come back here. How would you like that?” he countered smugly. 
“We’re giving Mrs. Olander a paid vacation, and she’s going to Seattle to visit her sister.”
“Why can’t I stay with Aunt Violet, Uncle Brad, and Brian?” Kevin said, not giving up, hopeful about this one. The darker, bolder, and bigger Brian Donnelly wasn’t just his only cousin, he was his best friend. They were the same age and even went to the same school.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible, honey,” Mom said.
“Why not? I’ve stayed there before when you’ve gone away. One time for two weeks. Aunt Violet won’t mind, and Brian and I never get in trouble. Please?” 
“I’ll tell you why if you promise not to say anything to anybody, not even Brian until he tells you first.”
“What?”
“Do you promise? This is serious.”
“Yes, Momster, I promise,” he said, clinging to a thread of hope. 
“Aunt Violet and Uncle Brad are getting a divorce. Aunt Violet is trying to find a job, and it isn’t a good time.”
“Then Brian needs me,” he said, disappointed that it came out childish and whiney, making clear that he’d lost the battle. 
“I’m sorry, honey, but that just isn’t going to happen. I’m sure Brian will need your support, but remember not to mention anything until he brings it up.”
“May I go to my room?”
“Don’t you want dessert, honey?”
“Not right now, thank you,” he said and stood. Mom came over and hugged him. He hated when she did that when he wanted to stay angry, because … then he couldn’t. She was just too good at comforting him. 

Chapter Two
The next day at school was a long one for Kevin. Being in school during May when the weather was like summertime was bad enough under normal conditions. He was supposed to be some kind of brainiack, he even thought he looked nerdy, but the fact was he’d rather be outside riding his bike or something. His cousin Brian was kind of quiet at lunch, and Kevin felt bad for him. He’d been upset because he thought his parents were going to drop the big “D” on him, but Brian was getting it instead. He wasn’t moping around, though. Brian was always the tough guy. He didn’t act tough, he was tough. 
They started taking karate lessons together when they were eleven. Kevin went through the motions but Brian really got it. That was why he had his brown belt and Kevin was still on his green. Their instructor said if Brian was older he’d have him help with classes, and would actually pay him to do it.
This year, when they started ninth grade, an eleventh-grader began picking on Kevin during the first week. You wouldn’t think that could happen at a nice Catholic school, but that guy was sly and there was never an adult around when he harassed him. One time Kevin was in a headlock when he both heard and felt someone strike his tormentor. The bully let go, spun around, and said he’d kill the coward who snuck up from behind and “kicked him like a girl.” Unfazed, Brian kicked him in the “you-know-where,” and the kid dropped to his knees in agony. In one fast, fluid motion Brian moved in, crouching, and punched him in the nose, breaking it. The next day, the boy didn’t come to school. But the day after that he did, and had two black eyes to go with his nose job. He apparently squealed, which caused the principal to interrogate Brian. But Brian admitted no wrong and nobody would testify against him. 
Brian never held it over Kevin. Instead, he worked with him between karate classes. One day he said, “You’re good enough to hold your own now, Kev. If anyone ever picks on you again, I expect to see some fighting. Don’t worry: if something bad starts happening, I’ll help you out.” 
Nothing more was ever said about it, and to date he hadn’t had to fight anybody. 
One of Kevin’s parents usually gave them rides to school—they lived just a couple blocks apart—and they walked home, except during the coldest part of winter. Brian was being quiet on their way home, so Kevin decided to break the silence. “My mom and dad are making me spend two months at my grandparents’ house in Wisconsin, Brian.”
“How come?”
“Get this: They’re going to Costa Rica to help the poor.” 
“When you said grandparents,” Brian replied, “I was hoping you meant our mothers’ parents, where I’ll be.” 
“Why?”
“My parents are getting divorced,” he said through clenched teeth as he kicked a rock on the sidewalk.” 
“No shit? You know why?” Kevin asked, feigning ignorance. Expletives were not part of his verbal repertoire, but a few of the tamer words sometimes crept into his vocabulary when alone with his more colorful cousin. 
“Yeah, but they don’t know I do. I heard them arguing because my mom found out he’s been boinking some secretary that works in his office.”
Brian’s dad was also a doctor. Kevin’s mom said Aunt Violet used to be a registered nurse, and helped put him through medical school. 
“I was so mad.”
“I’m sorry, Brian. I had no idea,” Kevin lied, knowing he had to. 
“Yeah, I just hope we don’t end up moving for good. You’re the best friend I could ever have, Kev.” 
“Moving for good?”
“We’ll be staying at my … our grandparents’ place while my mom looks for a job. We could end up in Minneapolis forever.”
This was even worse than Kevin had imagined.
“So, what are you going to do in Wisconsin, Kev?”
“I don’t know. My mom claims they’ll keep me busy with all sorts of ‘fun stuff.’”
“How old are they?” 
“Mom said my grandfather is seventy-four.”
“Wow! Seventy-four? I bet you’ll spend lots of time whittling on the front porch,” Brian smirked. 
“I don’t know about that. He is kind of spunky. Remember our Fourth of July party last year?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember the old people with the motorcycle? Those are my grandparents.”
“On the Harley?”
“Those are them, Brian.”
“They were pretty cool for old farts. Are you sure they’re that old?”
“Yeah. When my mom said my grandfather was seventy-four, my dad nodded in agreement. I don’t know about my grandmother.”
“With his white goatee and mustache, he looks like that guy on the retirement account commercial, Kev. You know, that ‘take charge of your life’ guy. And your grandmother reminds me of some old movie star, too.”
They were—from what Kevin remembered—an attractive couple for being so old, and he could see where his father got his looks. His grandfather had those same unusual spooky gray eyes his father did, too. He was slighter and maybe a tad shorter, but that was probably what living to be so old can do to a person. Although his hair was completely gray—almost white—and a bit sparse, it had that same healthy wave to it that Kevin envied about his father’s. And his grandmother was nice-looking for an old lady. Seemed pleasant, too—real grandmotherly, even in her leather jacket. 
“How come I’ve never seen them before?” Brian asked. 
“That’s the first time I’d ever seen them in my life, Brian.”
“That’s weird.”
“Tell me about it.” 
“You think they have a computer? Maybe we can email each other,” Brian suggested. 
“Yeah, my mom emails them. I bet we can do that.” 
“Your mom? Not your dad? What’s with that?”
“I don’t know. My dad won’t even answer the phone when he sees them on caller I.D.”
“Maybe your dad hates dirty bikers,” Brian joked. “I sure wish I had a motorcycle like your grandfather’s.” 
“Why? What would you do?”
“I’d get on that thing and ride to Montana.”
“Then what?” Kevin said, smiling at the thought of it. 
“I’d keep going ‘til I got to the Pacific Ocean, and watch the sun go down.”
“And then?” Kevin urged. 
“I’d turn around and come back here and kick my old man right in the nuts.”
They laughed. It was good to hear Brian laughing. 
“Hey, Brian, want to come over and watch the NASCAR race this Sunday?”
“I thought your folks didn’t like you watching that?” 
“Too bad,” Kevin said. “I’m out of the closet. The NASCAR closet that is. If they can take off for two months, I’m an official NASCAR fan from now on. We’ll even have a pizza.”
“Yeah, okay, that sounds good. Where’s the race?”
“Charlotte. It’ll be sweet, Brian. That’s one of my favorite tracks. It’s a mile-and-a-half long and none of those sissy carburetor restrictor plates.”
“Cool,” Brian agreed. “What time does it start?”
“I’ll check and let you know.”
When Kevin walked in through the kitchen entrance, Mrs. Olander was at the counter working on some sort of dish. As usual, the place was spotless.
“Good afternoon, Kevin. How was school today?”
He wanted to say “rotten,” but it wasn’t fair to dump on her. It wasn’t her fault he had to live in Hicksville for two months, and it wasn’t her fault that Brian’s dad was a jerk. “Oh, pretty good, Mrs. Olander.”
“That’s nice, dear. We won’t be eating until six-thirty, so I made a snack for you. You go change and I’ll have it waiting.” 
“Thank you, Mrs. Olander. Are you staying for dinner?”
“Yes, I am. You don’t mind, do you?” 
“Of course not. I like being around you.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Kevin. Thank you.”
Had he not found out about Brian going to Minneapolis, for who knew how long, he would have continued working on Mom, Dad, and Mrs. Olander to let him stay home when they abandoned him. Then he remembered that Mrs. Olander already had plans to visit her sister in Seattle. He went to his room to change, and fired up his computer. 
Then he went off to look at his parents’ wedding album. It was dated, and sure enough: they married little more than seven months before he was born. He went to the cabinet where they kept their passports and other personal papers, rummaged around, and found his birth certificate. Everything looked good, pretty much corroborated Mom’s story, but did seven pounds nine ounces sound right for a preemie? He’d check later. 
When he got to the kitchen, there was a plate of food and a glass of milk waiting for him at the table. Mrs. Olander was a master at figuring out just enough food to hold him over until dinner. Today he had cheese and crackers. After finishing he asked, “What are you making for dinner tonight, Mrs. Olander?”
“We’re having that meatloaf you like with spinach and prosciutto ham spiraled into it. Then we’ll have baked potatoes, green beans, and pecan pie for dessert.” 
Life was good at the Johnson household, for the time being. 
After eating his snack, he went back to his room, checked out the time of Sunday’s race, and then Googled for information on Darlington, Wisconsin and the surrounding area. Surprisingly, he learned there were stock car races nearby, and wondered if his grandfather knew anything about them. Then he remembered to check the stats on preemie birth weights. 
He wasn’t a preemie. Seven pounds nine ounces was solid for a full-term baby. 
Mom was pregnant when she was walking down the aisle. 
She probably told and retold the “premature birth” tale so her parents—Gramma and Grampa—wouldn’t know. Kevin could sympathize. And no harm, no foul. Or maybe it was for his benefit—so he wouldn’t know his mother was “doing it” before she was married, that he was a consequence of pleasure not the planned product of love. It didn’t matter; he hadn’t believed that loving, married couples only … coupled for the sole purpose of procreation—no fun, strictly business—since he was twelve and made the connection between erections and sexual arousal. As for his parents, he was embarrassed to know that they did it at all. But, of course, if they hadn’t where would he be? He wouldn’t. Get over it, Kevin, he said to himself. 
But back to the real issue: Why was he so short? 
That night at dinner the conversation was subdued, almost awkward. Mrs. Olander did her best to keep them somewhat engaged. His mother finally asked, “Did Brian … mention anything to you today, Kev?”
“Yeah. He said his parents are getting divorced, and that he and Aunt Violet are going to stay at other Gramma’s and Grampa’s place this summer. I guess it’s no big deal that I’m getting shipped off, because I wouldn’t see him anyway.”
“You’re not getting shipped off,” his dad said. “You’re staying with family, your grandparents. I’m sorry we haven’t had time to visit them much.”
The tone in his father’s voice told Kevin he was hiding something―being less than truthful. “You mean like never,” he pointed out. His father was silent, looked almost guilty, so he thought then was a good time to spring it. “Brian was kind of bummed-out so I invited him over to watch the NASCAR race on Sunday. We can watch it in my room. I told him we’ll have a pizza, too.”
Mrs. Olander got up. “I think I better be on my way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you staying for dessert, Mrs. Olander?” Kevin asked. 
Smiling while hand-gesturing at her body, she replied, “Do I look like I need pie?” 
She wasn’t real fat, but he sure wasn’t going to say anything, one way or the other. 
She laughed, a delightful giggle really, and said, “Goodnight, all.” Then she walked out to the kitchen to get her things and leave. 
His parents still hadn’t reacted, or at least commented, on his Sunday plans, and he looked back and forth at them until his mother finally said, “That was very thoughtful of you to invite Brian over to do something … fun.” 
That night, when he was trying to get to sleep, he had a feeling he had forgotten to do something that day. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of what it was. 
The next day at school, in Sister Farron’s algebra class, Kevin was zoning out. He wasn’t really tired and the subject matter didn’t bore him, but Sister Farron did. She spoke in a monotone voice. He thought she missed her calling and should have become a hypnotist. Anyway, he was daydreaming that he was walking through a lovely meadow on a nice warm sunny day, kind of like it was outside that day, with Bonnie McGee. It startled him back into the present and must have been noticeable because Sister Farron said, “Yes, Mr. Johnson? Did you have something to add?” 
His classmates must have known the score as many giggled.
“No, ma’am, Sister Farron.”
“All right; pay attention.”
How could he pay attention? He just remembered he was supposed to call Bonnie last night. When he saw her for the first time, at the beginning of the school year, he almost walked into a doorjamb. And later that day they were assigned to the same biology class. Then, through the teacher’s crazy freakish formula, they were paired-up as lab partners. Not only was Bonnie hot, she actually acknowledged his existence. After working with her he found out she was nice, and smart, too. They even exchanged email addresses to make doing homework easier. 
It took him until two days ago to work up the nerve to ask if he could call her, and they agreed on last night. How could he have forgotten? Just looking at her made him forget everything else. She was so pretty, even her name was cute, and he blew it. He’d have to find her during lunch and apologize. Maybe if he groveled in public she would forgive him. Then he remembered he’d be going away for two months. It might just as well be two years. What were the chances of her not having a boyfriend by the time he got back?
Between classes, he went to his locker to change books and felt a presence behind him. He turned around, and Bonnie was standing about two feet in front of him.
“Bonnie! I just remembered I was supposed to call you last night, and I’m really sorry.” 
She just looked at him with those wonderful, powerful green eyes. She was wearing a lightweight sweater of the same color. It wasn’t trashy tight, that wouldn’t be allowed. She wouldn’t wear something trashy, anyway. But it wasn’t loose fitting, either. Her strawberry blond hair was perfect, and her face expressionless. She worked him over with her eyes like she had special powers and could tell if he was lying. 
“If you want to kick me, I wouldn’t blame you, Bonnie. It’s just that my parents dropped a big one on me and I’ve been so upset I couldn’t think straight. Please forgive me.”
“They’re not getting a—”
“No. No divorce. At first I thought something like that, but no: they’re going to help the poor in Costa Rica for two months. And they’re making me stay at my grandparents’ place while they’re gone.”
“Wow. Really? Helping the poor in Costa Rica. That’s so incredible. Where do your grandparents live?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Whereabouts in Wisconsin, Kev?” She moved her head to the side, swinging hair over her left shoulder. 
He smelled flowers that reminded him of that lovely meadow they were walking through in his daydream. That fragrance was her. It must be either her shampoo or perfume. It was wonderful. “It’s in the country near the rinky-dink town of Darlington.”
“I thought Darlington was in South Carolina?” she asked. 
“That’s where the real Darlington is,” he replied sardonically. “This one is southwest of Madison,” he added, and then noticed her posse of three standing about ten feet away, just looking at them. 
“Really?” she said, more as a statement than a question. 
“Come on, Bonnie, we have to get going or we’ll be late,” one of her friends said. 
“I guess I better get going, Kev.”
“Wait, Bonnie. May I call you after school, or tonight?”
She wagged an index finger at him and said, “Okay, Buster, but if you don’t this time I’ll know you have something better to do than talking to me.” She turned smartly and walked toward her friends, and the four of them strode down the hall. 
He had an excellent rear view of her slight hourglass figure. She was wearing a dark-gray and white pleated plaid skirt that hinted at what was underneath, exposing enough of her legs to raise his heartbeat. Everything about her seemed perfect. She quickly turned, gave him a mischievous smile, and waved while marching on. She knew he was watching. How could he not? 
When he got home, his mother was there. Mrs. Olander must have gone home early. She probably prepared something that could be heated in the oven. The Momster wasn’t real big on cooking, but sometimes on weekends his parents teamed up and tried. They tended to go for fancy, complicated stuff. Kevin preferred Mrs. Olander’s cooking but never told them that. 
Mom was at the desk near the end of the family room, in front of the French doors that led out to the patio. Her reading glasses were perched near the end of her nose, and she was working on her laptop.
“Hi, Momster.”
“Hi, Kev,” she said and glanced over her glasses at him.
“Nice to see you home early. Did Mrs. Olander already leave?”
“Uh, hmm,” she answered, looking back at her work. 
“Since you’re busy, I’ll leave you alone for awhile, but I wonder if you’d have time to talk later?” 
She took her glasses off and set them on the desk, closed the laptop and smiled. “I always have time for you, Kev.” 
Now that he had her attention, he got nervous. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He usually talked to Brian about this kind of stuff, but he didn’t know any more about it than Kevin. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m sorry, Mom.” He turned and started to walk away. He heard her chair move, and the next thing he knew she had an arm around him, steering him toward the couch. She had this gentle way of leading him around, almost like she was his puppet master. He looked up into her brilliant blue eyes, one of the two traits he inherited from her—the other being her hair, although she augmented her color with periodic blond recharges at the beauty parlor. Said without them she’d be all gray, that she was not going to start looking like a grandmother until he made her into one. He figured it’d be a good ten years before he’d be ready for that. Oh, he felt ready for the preliminaries. Ready except that he hadn’t kissed a girl yet, had never been on a date, and the thought of taking his clothes off in front of one terrified him. And then there was the awkward issue of precautions. When Mom joked about becoming a grandmother, he knew she didn’t mean now. 
Kevin was still looking up at his mother, because he’s so darn short, and then it hit him: He was too short to be a product of his parents’ union, and didn’t resemble his dad at all. Someone else fathered him: another lover. It was doubtful that his mother had been artificially inseminated with sperm from a donor. Two months before the wedding? C’mon! Who would do that? The worse case scenario would be that he was the result of rape. But he quickly quashed that despicable thought, remembering how delighted she seemed when once describing how she was looking forward to delivering him, and the bliss she felt afterward. It had to have been another lover. 
But had she known whose baby she was carrying? Had his father—if Kevin still had the right to call him his father? Now that he was old enough to have more pronounced features, he must know for sure. Kevin has seen the distain in his eyes. He was the embarrassing evidence that another man fathered his wife’s son. Kevin’s so-called paternal grandparents probably knew early-on. That was why he’d only seen them once. He was worse than nothing to them. That had to be the secret they were keeping from him. It was amazing that “Dad” hadn’t taken a hike long ago. 
So, why were those “grandparents” allowing him to stay with them? The man he’s been calling “Dad” all his life must really love her—he has to respect him for that—and groveled with his folks big-time. Kevin’s emotions were on a roller coaster ride: elated about his prospects with Bonnie, melancholy over his uncertain heritage. He shoved thoughts of the latter into a dark corner of his mind, hoping they would lie dormant forever. But it didn’t work. 
“You aren’t bothering me, Kev,” his mother said, snapping him out of it. “Sit, and tell me what’s on your mind.”
Now he couldn’t back out, but still he hesitated.
“I’m your mother and I love you. I’m also a doctor, and you can talk with me about anything.” She sat, bringing him along. 
Looking at her, he knew she was sincere and decided to go for it. “I want to talk about love.” 
Her eyebrows went up as her eyes opened wide. “Haven’t you had classes on that in school?”
“No, those were mostly about sex.” His mother blinked, and he wondered if the mere mention of sex caused it. That puzzled him. With her vast experience, she shouldn’t bat an eye. “I want to know about love.” 
He attended public school up until this school year. Health classes covered sex education. What they didn’t teach, he and Brian figured out. They talked about girls, and subsequently sex, a lot. Neither had experience with romance—it was academic thus far—but they were fixated on the topic, anticipating the future. Brian had some of his father’s old Playboy magazines stashed in his room, for educational purposes. They often theorize together, but never, ever, share thoughts about their parents’ bedroom activities. 
His mother looked away and nervously cleared her throat, but then put on a somewhat happy face. “Are you talking about romantic love, Kev?”
“All of it really, Mom. I mean … well, maybe. How old do you have to be to be in love?” 
She didn’t answer, and he got even more nervous. 
“Sometimes when you’re young, you may believe you’re in love,” she finally said, “but oftentimes it’s just your hormones raising havoc.”
“How do you know the difference?” he asked. 
“Sometimes someone else comes along, and you decide you’d rather be with that person instead of the one you’re with, so maybe you never really loved the first one.”
“Like Uncle Brad?” he asked. And you, he thought. 
Her jaw dropped but she regained composure and asked, “Where did you hear that?”
“Word gets around. Anyway, if that’s what happened to Uncle Brad, what does age have to do with it? He’s almost as old as you and … Dad. You think he’s having hormone trouble?” 
Stifling a laugh, she said, “Maybe age isn’t the determining factor. It’s complicated sometimes,” she added, now totally under control, “but people often have several boyfriends or girlfriends before they find the right one.” 
Trying not to imagine how many she’s had, he asked, “But what if you find the right one the first time? How old do you have to be?”
“I’m not really sure. Maybe your father could give you a more definitive answer than I can. You must have a girlfriend, huh, Kev?” 
“I’d like her to be, but I don’t know how that’ll work with me going away for two months.”
“Sometimes the test of time tells the story,” she explained. “If she’s really the one, and feels the same way you do, a couple months won’t matter. If she has another boyfriend when you get back, you’ll know she wasn’t the one. I realize that doesn’t sound very fair, but that’s life I’m afraid.”
“Thanks, Momster.” 
“You’re welcome, Kevin.”
She hadn’t ruled out the possibility of young love being real, so he felt a little better. He wouldn’t bother talking to the man he called “Dad” about it. It’d probably make both of them nervous, and he usually seemed kind of uptight anyway. 
He headed to the kitchen to scrounge up a snack, and Mom went back to work. Afterward, he went to his room, changed, and worked up the nerve to call Bonnie. He couldn’t seem to keep his heart-rate low enough to feel relaxed, but finally just punched her telephone number in and hoped for the best. 
“Hello, McGee residence,” a deep male voice answered, probably Bonnie’s dad.
Kevin hoped he didn’t give him a hard time. If things worked out, he was sure he’ll be meeting him soon. “This is Kevin Johnson calling for Bonnie. May I speak with her please?” His parents stressed proper telephone etiquette. At least that came naturally, and he was glad since he was entering uncharted waters. 
“One moment please,” the man responded. Kevin heard him set the phone down, but there was no yelling for Bonnie. Their household must have practiced civil behavior, just as theirs did. So far, so good. 
“Hi, Kev.”
“Hello, Bonnie. Is this a good time to talk?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Would you like to do something with me this Saturday afternoon?” 
“What do you have in mind, Kev?” 
From the sound of her voice, he thought she was smiling. Either she thought he was a dork and was amused, or she was happy he called. But he got the feeling she actually liked him. “You know that ice cream place down near Silver Lake Park?”
“Yeah,” she replied. 
“They have seating inside and outside. I was thinking of going there for ice cream, and then maybe a walk in the park if it isn’t raining.”
“That sounds good. Sure, I’d like that,” she said eagerly. “How will we get there?”
“That part is your choice. We can either have one of my parents give us a ride and take the bus home, or we could ride our bikes.”
“Let’s get a ride and take the bus home,” she suggested. “We can talk better on the bus than on bikes ‘cause we can’t always be alongside each other. What time do you want to go?”
“I was thinking about one o’clock. Is that good for you?”
“Sure, Kev. Do you know where I live?”
“If your address in the phone book is correct, we’ll find it,” he assured. 
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow at one.” 
“I’m looking forward to it, Bonnie. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Kev.”
Whew. He made it. He hoped not to be as nervous tomorrow. There was no way she could miss that while near him. He headed downstairs to ask Momster if she would give them a ride tomorrow before he spaced it out. If not being able to concentrate was a sign of being in love, maybe that would explain how he’s been lately. Bonnie didn’t seem nervous at all, and that gave him more cause for concern. 
When he got downstairs, he knew his “dad” was home. Kevin saw them first because they were busy smooching and didn’t notice him. When they broke away from each other, his mother had a delightful smile on her face. A smile Kevin hasn’t seen since before last year’s Fourth of July party. Something happened that day, and it must have been bad. But things seemed back to normal now, and he knew what came next. He just wished this guy was his dad. Somehow it seemed easier to take having him doing his mom when he thought he was.
Kevin turned around to go back upstairs. 
“You don’t need to go, Kevin. Stay here,” his mom said. 
That’s what she said, but he noticed her face redden. And it looked like his dad—the guy he used to think was his dad—had a woody. Man alive! Had they even planned on going to their room, or were they intending on doing it right there? “No, that’s okay,” he said over his shoulder, not wanting to see anymore. “I’ll talk to you later. I just remembered something I need to check on the computer. I’ll come back at six,” he added, figuring that would give them enough time. 

Chapter Three
They were on the way to Bonnie’s house in Mom’s Volvo. It was one of those big ones that looked kind of like a Swedish Mercedes. Kevin was in front with her, but after he went to the door and retrieved Bonnie they would ride in the back while Mom played chauffer. He’d asked about getting a ride at the dinner table last night, and Mom pounced on the opportunity to provide one. She was likely curious about what type of girl he was attracted to. She would surely like Bonnie. Who couldn’t? 
He also asked his parents’ advice on attire. He wasn’t sure if his father—the man he used to think was his father—had good taste or if his mother’s influence was the reason he always looked sharp, but he always did. Whether formal or casual, he nailed it. Of course, he was also taller, darker, and actually handsome. 
Kevin was wearing kaki pants, a long-sleeved sport shirt, and brown leather shoes. “Dad” told him, for a first date, he should avoid jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. He reasoned that no matter how Bonnie was dressed, Kevin wouldn’t look too sloppy or too dressy. 
Kevin pushed the button and heard the doorbell over the beating of his heart. Footsteps approached and the door opened. Looking up, he saw the man that must be Bonnie’s father. He was even taller than his dad—the man he used to think was. He looked a lot younger, too. Kevin thought Bonnie once mentioned that he was an executive for some computer company. IBM, perhaps. 
The man smiled, putting Kevin somewhat at ease, and said, “You must be Kevin. Please come in. Bonnie will be here soon. I’m her dad,” he added, held out his hand, and they shook hands. He didn’t squeeze Kevin’s too hard. He hated when guys did that to demonstrate who was stronger. But, still, Kevin could tell that he was a powerful man. Then he noticed they were dressed similarly. Could he be a relief to him? Maybe he had feared that a kid with baggy pants pulled halfway down his butt, and a sideways baseball cap would show up. Kevin was still nervous, though, and hoped he wouldn’t have to answer too many questions because he wasn’t sure if he could give any intelligent answers. 
Just then Bonnie walked down the stairs wearing brown leather shoes, light-tan colored pants, and a short-sleeve green print top predominantly the color of her lovely eyes. A small purse the color of her shoes was slung over a shoulder. She gave him a bright smile coupled with a great look from her lively eyes, and some of his fears melted. Maybe his heart was melting, too, because he no longer noticed it beating. 
“Hi, Kev. I see you met my father.”
“Good afternoon, Bonnie. Yes, we just met but didn’t have nearly enough time to visit,” he said, hoping it sounded like something he should have said. 
“Perhaps next time,” her dad interjected. 
“Are you ready to go, Bonnie?”
“Yes, I am, Kev.”
He looked at her father and said, “Nice meeting you, Mr. McGee. I expect to have Bonnie back no later than five.”
“Thank you, Kevin. I’ll be waiting.” 
He could tell he meant it, too. They left and saw Mom watching from behind the wheel. He noticed she’d pulled her sunglasses down a little and was looking over the top of them. She was scrutinizing his date. His date! He opened the rear door on the passenger side and motioned for Bonnie to enter. After she did, he gently but firmly closed her door and walked around to the other side and got in.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Bonnie McGee. Bonnie, this is my mother.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Bonnie.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Johnson.”
“Please call me Bridget, dear.” 
Kevin buckled his seatbelt and heard Bonnie’s also click. She smiled, but it seemed like a bashful one. He felt it was a sign that she didn’t think she was too good for him. That was encouraging, but then he remembered he was going away for two months. The silence was awkward for most of the ride, but after they were dropped off he felt relief. They took over a small outdoor table at the ice cream parlor, one close to the roadway. A waitress came over with two glasses of water and two menus, and left.
“Think you’re ready for exams next week, Bonnie?”
“I’m still having trouble with social studies,” she said, “so I’ll work on that tonight. How about you?”
“I have it all planned out: two hours of algebra tonight, and one hour each on English and social studies tomorrow morning. I think that’ll do me. I hope so, anyway.”
“I’m glad you called, Kev,” she said, looking at him, almost as if she was studying his reaction. 
“I’m glad you’d talk to me, Bonnie.”
She smiled. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re so beautiful that I was afraid you might not.”
Her face reddened slightly and she looked down. “Even with my freckles?” 
“You might not be you without your charming freckles, Bonnie.”
“You’re too nice, Kevin. I bet you say stuff like that to all the girls.”
“You’re the only girl I’ve ever been out with.” 
She smiled almost indiscernibly and asked, “Really?”
“That’s the truth, Bonnie. Did you decide what you’d like? I see the waitress coming back.” 
“Why don’t we just get ice cream cones so we can walk in the park?” she suggested.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she replied and smiled. The waitress arrived and asked what they wanted. Kevin motioned to Bonnie, and she said, “I’d like a double Moose Tracks in a sugar cone, please.”
“And you, sir?” 
Wow. She called him sir. “I’ll have the same, and I’ll pay right away since we’re taking them with us.”
“Very good; I’ll be right back.”
“I’m glad you thought of that, Bonnie. It’s a really nice day for a walk.” 
When the waitress came back, he paid and they started off. Bonnie was right by his side as they looked for an opportunity to cross the street. Traffic wasn’t heavy, but the cars were moving fast. When it was safe to go, something caught his eye down the road about sixty yards. A little kid—maybe two years old—was running from the other side toward the roadway, with a big diesel truck bearing down where the toddler would be in a matter of seconds. Although no athlete, Kevin immediately ran to intercept. Nothing but the kid and the truck existed to him. He wasn’t aware how he ran. He couldn’t even feel the surface of the road. All he did was run as fast as he could while watching the child and the truck. 
Neither had slowed. 
It seemed as if he was running in slow motion and wasn’t going to make it, all the while hoping the driver would see what was happening and hit the brakes. But the trucker was oblivious, cell phone to his ear. The little tyke plodded happily along into the path of danger, looking straight ahead toward the other side of the road. Kevin didn’t dare look to see what the attraction was. It wasn’t relevant, and he might lose focus. The truck’s grill took on the appearance of a huge monster as he ran toward it, knowing he had one shot to make the grab and couldn’t slow down much to do it. 
Finally, he bent down, grabbed the boy, and quickly turned to the right. That’s when the squealing of huge tires began. He just about cleared the truck’s path when its air horn blared. He felt a little sensation to his right foot but managed to stay upright until off the road and onto the grass. Then he collapsed and became aware that the child he held tightly by his side was screaming. 
A police car came screeching to a halt less than ten feet away, emergency lights flashing. A policeman jumped out and soon stood over Kevin. “Do you have any idea how your reckless behavior almost cost that child his life? There are child endangerment laws that apply to situations like this, you know!” he said, spraying spittle. 
Kevin was dumbfounded, and too out of breath to respond, anyway. The cop must have seen that as a sign he was being uncooperative and started in on him again. 
“You have the responsibility to make sure your child doesn’t run into traffic. This is a dangerous place to neglect a toddler, mister.”
“That’s not his child,” Bonnie said. 
“What do you have to do with this?”
“I’m his girlfriend.”
“Hey, I don’t care who the real father is. Anyone watching a child has responsibilities. I should run you both in and call Child Protective Services.” 
“Hello,” Bonnie said. “You’re not listening. This is not our child. We were not taking care of him. Until my boyfriend saved his life at great risk to his own, that is.” 
“Well then whose is it?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped back. “You’re the cop. Why don’t you put on your Sherlock hat and find out?”
Bonnie was mad. She looked like a wildcat ready to pounce. She stepped closer to the policeman, and he actually backed up. Kevin noticed she was holding something in her hands, squeezing it in her fury. It looked like a shoe. He looked down and, sure enough, he was missing one. The little boy’s screaming subsided, and then he just sobbed. Curious people who had been enjoying a nice day in the park congregated around them. A girl with a nose ring and brown, red, and purple hair pushed through the crowd. She had a cigarette hanging from her mouth and was listening to an iPod. Kevin could hear the noise, even though the earphones were plugged into her skull. 
“Hey, what’s going on with my kid?” she challenged. 
The policeman, who was probably spouting off because of an adrenalin rush, stood there with his mouth hanging open. Kevin let go of the boy, and he got up and ran to his mother. The officer turned to his new target and started ranting again. The young mother seemed bored, took a drag on her cigarette, exhaled a big cloud of smoke, and nonchalantly flicked an ash. Next on the scene were a cameraman and a heavily made-up woman reporter from KTCC-TV News. 
Bonnie rushed over to Kevin, knelt on the ground, bent over him and held his head in her hands. “Are you okay, baby?” 
He was just starting to catch his breath. “I think I’m okay, Bonnie.”
“How’s your foot, honey?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lay back and I’ll check.”
She felt his foot through his sock, then removed the sock and examined further with gentle fingers. She lifted it up and looked around it, lowered it and looked at her hands, probably checking for blood. “I think you’re okay, Kev. See if you can sit up.” 
He did and she said, “I’m going to put your sock and shoe back on now. Tell me if anything hurts.”
Nothing did, and he told her that. 
“Okay, Kev, let’s see if you can stand.” 
He did, but somehow felt different. The news crew was on him akin to yellow-jackets at a picnic, but Bonnie held them at bay, always keeping herself between them and him. Then she turned and wrapped her arms around him, hugging like she never wanted to let go. 
“You’re a hero, Kev.”
“You’re my hero, Bonnie.” 
She moved her head back from his shoulder and looked at him with a puzzled expression. “How’s that?”
“You should have seen yourself. You reminded me of a lioness protecting her wounded mate. I love you, Bonnie.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 
“I love you, too, Kev.” 
They held each other tightly, and her warm body seemed to move even closer and meld into his. Then they kissed. He had no idea who went first. Maybe they did together. He thought they did but it didn’t matter, they were one. He’d heard that before but never understood it until then. When they broke from their kiss, he heard applause, and looked into her eyes. 
“How many people get a standing ovation after their first kiss, Kev?”
“Yours too?”
“Yeah,” she said, flicking her eyebrows. 
“Wanna do it again?” 
“Just again isn’t good enough, Kev. I want forever.” 
The news lady was persistent, but Bonnie told her that he needed to sit down in a chair, and then pointed across the way to the ice cream parlor. The reporter suggested that he ride over in the news van with the cameraman while she and Bonnie walked. Once they got there, Kevin, Bonnie, and the reporter sat at the very same table they had been at before. Somebody from the newspaper came upon the scene and tried to join them. The television reporter was no chump, though. She called for a quick conference with her competing colleague, and they stepped off. 
“We saw what you did,” the same waitress they had before said, “and your money is no longer good here. It’s an honor to have you back, Hero. Sorry you had to drop your cones. Please order anything off the menu for you and your lady. It’s on the house.” She set a menu in front of each of them and added, “I’ll be right back.” 
Bonnie smiled at him and winked. 
The television reporter and the man from the newspaper came back. “Mr. Johnson,” she said, “is it all right to have a newspaper reporter sit in with us?”
Kevin sensed some sort of negotiation had been completed. He looked at Bonnie and she smiled oh-so gently. He believed he was the only one who noticed, and thought it meant she approved of whatever he decided. “I guess it’ll be okay as long as it doesn’t take too long. We should catch the next bus for home.” 
Just then the waitress came back. “Are you two ready to order?” she asked, paying no attention to the reporters. 
While Bonnie was explaining that she’d like a small turtle fudge sundae, the TV reporter whipped out her cell phone, turned her head and made a call. By the time Kevin finished telling the waitress he’d have the same as Bonnie, the reporter turned back, closed her phone and smiled. “Forget the bus,” she said. “I’ve arranged for a limousine to pick you up and take you home. I hope that’s all right?”
“That’s very nice of you. Thank you,” Kevin replied, and the interview commenced.
He and Bonnie told the story from their own perspectives. In addition to that, they answered questions about their backgrounds. They were assured that the editing would be top priority so the story could be aired on the ten o’clock news that night. The next edition of the newspaper wouldn’t be out until Monday, but they were told they had plenty of information for a very interesting article. Then two police officers wanted statements from them. Neither was the one who’d read Kevin the riot act. 
Afterward, they rode in the back of the limousine, holding hands in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though; it was a comforting one. He walked Bonnie to her door as the limo stood by, and they embraced and kissed. He wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but stopped when the door opened. They still had their hands on each other, but separated some when Bonnie’s dad came into view. 
He looked at them, glanced at the limo, and then back again. “I thought you were taking the bus home. Where’d the limo come from?”
They dropped their hands to their sides, and Bonnie said, “The television station got it for us. Kevin became a hero, and they did a story on him.”
“On us,” he corrected, looking at Mr. McGee and then back at Bonnie. “I told you, you’re my hero, Bonnie.”
“I can hardly wait to hear about this,” Mr. McGee said. 
Kevin wasn’t sure if his words were to be taken at face value. He sensed a different tone in his voice, and wondered if he had seen them kissing. Then he remembered that he’d definitely seen them in each other’s arms. 
“How about if we inform the limo driver he’s no longer needed? You two can tell me all about it, and then I’ll give Kevin a ride home.”
Bonnie looked at Kevin and raised an eyebrow that was furthest away from her father.
“Sure, Mr. McGee. That’ll be fine,” he answered for her, hoping it would be. At least he’d be able to spend more time with her. 
Mr. McGee sent the limo on its way while they stood on the porch. When they entered the house, a grandfather clock chimed four o’clock. A lot had happened in a few hours. He followed Bonnie, who followed her dad, and they ended up in the kitchen. He motioned for them to sit. Kevin held a chair out for Bonnie, and then took the next one for himself. Mr. McGee smiled a little and asked, “Would you care for some iced tea? I’m having a glass.”
“I’d like a small one, please, Father.” 
Mr. McGee looked at him expectantly.
“Yes, sir, I’ll have one please.” 
Bonnie’s dad took three glasses out of the cupboard, set them on the table, took a pitcher out of the refrigerator and said, “Help yourselves.” He sat in a chair across from them and waited until they finished before pouring his own. He took a sip, set his glass down and said, “Tell me about your afternoon.”
Kevin thought he was skeptical. Looking at Bonnie, she somehow read Kevin’s apprehension and took over. 
“We were having ice cream cones and walking to the park when a little kid ran toward the traffic. Kevin dropped his cone and ran to catch him. He snatched him out of the way just before a big truck would have squashed them both. It was so close that one of Kev’s shoes got knocked off. I was so afraid for him, Daddy. I went to him as fast as I could, grabbing his shoe on the way. By the time I got there, a policeman was giving him a hard time because he thought Kevin was watching the child and let him get away. Kev was out of breath, on the ground, so he couldn’t even talk. But the cop kept badgering him, so I stepped in and cleared things up.” 
Mr. McGee looked at him, and Kevin nodded. 
“There was a news crew doing a story in the park,” Bonnie continued, “and they caught almost the whole thing on camera. We agreed to an interview, and it’s supposed to be on the ten o’clock news tonight. Oh, some guy from the newspaper showed up, too, but the next paper doesn’t come out until Monday.”
“Wow,” her dad said. “You are a hero, Kevin. It sounds like you two had enough excitement to last the rest of your lives. Is your foot okay?”
“Yes, sir, I think so. Bonnie couldn’t see anything wrong with it.”
“Your parents are doctors, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You make sure to have them look you over when you get home, okay?”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“You’ve got yourself quite a boyfriend, Bonnie. I can hardly wait to see this on television.” 
After they finished their ice teas, Mr. McGee got his car out of the garage—a new Dodge Charger R/T with a sunroof. Kevin told him how cool it was. He thanked him for the compliment and smiled. He seemed to like him and he hoped Bonnie’s mother would, too. Kevin climbed in the back, thinking Bonnie would ride up front with her dad. He probably thought so, too, by the look on his face when she told Kevin to scoot over. Then she climbed in right beside him. Kevin was behind her dad, so he couldn’t see his face in the rear view mirror, but thought that he and Bonnie exchanged some uneasy glances. There was awkward silence until Mr. McGee turned the radio on to a country station. Some guy sang, “Love Don’t Live Here Anymore.” The melody was beautiful, but the lyrics sad and ominous. It was almost as if a dark cloud was approaching. Kevin looked at Bonnie and could tell she sensed it, too. 

Chapter Four
Much to Bonnie’s dad’s chagrin, she walked Kevin to the door. Before he could unlock it, she said, “Do you still have the same email address as when we were lab partners, Kev?’
“Yes.”
“Good. I saved it,” she said, looking into his eyes like she was searching for something.
“I saved yours, too, Bonnie. Is yours the same?”
“Yes, Kev, now listen: I have something to discuss with you but I can’t do it to your face. Not over the phone, either. Not right now, anyway. Are you staying home?”
“Yeah, Bonnie, I’m not going anywhere.” That bad feeling he’d had was stronger now. He hoped he hadn’t gone overboard. She probably got caught-up in the excitement and, after thinking about it, decided he was reading way too much into her affection for him. She had probably just been concerned about him being hurt when she poured on the TLC. 
She squeezed his hand and smiled. Her hand was warm and strong, but her smile weak. “Bye, Kev,” she said, looking unsettled, tears filling her eyes. 
“Goodbye, Bonnie. Thank you for … everything.” 
She turned and left. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, then turned for one last look at his love interest as the car drove away. The house was quiet. He re-locked the door and went into the kitchen. There was a note on the table that said: 
Dear Kev,
Went golfing with your father, and then we’re going to the Barton’s for dinner and cards afterward. Supper is in the fridge. No need to wait up for us, but you can if you want to. I can’t wait to hear about your date.
Love,
The Momster.
P.S. Your girlfriend sure is cute.
Great. His fifteen seconds of fame was to hit the airwaves tonight, and he’d be alone. He called Brian, but there was no answer. He went upstairs and turned on his computer. There was an email from Brian.
Kev, 
Had to go to Minneapolis with my mom and help her haul some of our stuff. You should have seen her backing the rental truck into our driveway. Anyway, we won’t get back until late Sunday night, so I’ll miss watching the NASCAR race with you. Sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. Talk to you Monday.
Brian
Kevin felt more alone by the minute. Oh, well; it was a good time to get his studies over with, so he hit the books. Instead of studying algebra for two hours, however, he did an hour and a half because he couldn’t stand any more. He figured he’d get at least a “B” and that was fine with him. Somehow his priorities had shifted. 
Still no email from Bonnie. 
He went down to the kitchen and nuked his dinner. His dad—the guy he once thought was—must have grilled the steak before they left, and the baked potato just needed warming up, too. Someone had also made a nice little salad for him, probably his mother. After he ate and put his plates in the dishwasher, he went back to the books but first checked the computer. There it was. He was afraid to open it. He sat down in front of the monitor and stared at it for longer than it had taken to save the toddler before he did. He read it the first time rapidly, then again slower to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood. 
Dear Kev,
I’ve been agonizing over this ever since I got home. No, even before. Today was surreal. Maybe that’s why I reacted the way I did, possibly over-reacted. Before today I thought you were just a nice, cute boy that I might like doing things with. While you were in the process of saving that little kid, I was so afraid for you, and also for me. For you because I realized how precious you are. For me because I never want to be without you. 
If I frightened you by coming on too strong, I’m sorry. I realize now that when you said you loved me you might just have meant that you loved what I did for you, not that it was that much. I couldn’t say these things to your face, or even over the phone, because I’m too embarrassed. I guess what I really want to know is what your intentions are with me. I do want to be with you always, but I am a good girl. Please tell me now if you really love me.
Love,
Bonnie
His heart beat faster as he composed his answer. He wanted to get it just right, so he went over it several times—forcing himself to read it slower and out loud—before pushing “send.” He decided on: 
Yes, Bonnie, I love you!
Dear Bonnie,
Before today I felt like a fourteen year old boy, smitten by the lovely Bonnie McGee. I had high hopes of becoming your boyfriend, even though I thought that might be too good to come true. Our day together started out so well that I began to think it possible until that earth-shattering event presented itself. I’ll have to admit that I blanked out thoughts of everything else as I raced toward the child while the truck was bearing down on us. I couldn’t even feel my feet hitting the ground, and I confess that you weren’t on my mind, either. I figure that lapse lasted less than ten seconds, but even so I apologize and promise to make up for it. It’s amazing what can happen in ten seconds, but I think I changed. You came upon the scene like an angel, and I realized I wasn’t infatuated by you, I’m in love with you and want to be with you forever. I know that might be a problem since we’re both fourteen, but I don’t feel fourteen anymore. I feel I somehow aged greatly during those ten seconds without you. Not physically or even mentally, but emotionally, psychologically, and perhaps even spiritually. I have to tell you, though, that I have ominous feelings that something might go wrong, but I have no intention of living without you.
Love,
Kevin
He waited nervously for a response. He watched and waited. Finally the phone rang. He saw McGee on the caller I.D., pushed the “talk” button, and heard sobbing. “Bonnie? Are you all right?” 
“I’m fine, Kev. I was just so afraid this wasn’t real.”
“It is, and we’ll make it work,” he promised. 
“I know we will, Kev. I just wish we were together now. You know, most people think you should graduate from college and get a good job before getting … serious. I’m sure our parents are among them. That’s what’s pretty much expected these days.”
“Too bad for them. We won’t wait that long, Bonnie. I wish you were here to watch the news with me tonight.”
“What did your parents say, Kev?”
“I haven’t talked to them yet.”
“Why not?” she said, seeming confused. 
“They won’t be home ‘til later.”
“Call them on their cell phone,” she urged. 
“I … I don’t want to disturb them now. Hopefully they’ll be home in time to watch the news.”
“So you’re all alone?”
“Yeah. But I’ve been studying so it’s okay,” he assured. 
“Poor baby. You ought to be the center of attention. A big party should be thrown in your honor. I think I’ll call your mom tomorrow and arrange one.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“You better get use to me in your life, Kev.”
“I do like the sound of that,” he admitted. “Are your parents watching the news tonight?”
“Oh, yeah. And my mother wants to meet you soon.”
“I hope she likes me. I think your dad does.”
“I know he does, Kev. I hope your parents like me.”
“My mom left a note for me. She already likes you. Who couldn’t?” 
“You’re too cute, Kev.”
“I’m going back to the books so I don’t have to do anything tomorrow. Maybe then I can meet your mom, and you can meet my … dad.”
“Leave your computer on and I’ll email you their reactions to the news,” she replied excitedly. 
“Okay, Bonnie. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kev. Bye.”
“Bye,” he said and hung up. He couldn’t have felt better, and tackled his studies eagerly, but set an alarm clock so he wouldn’t miss the news. 
The alarm went off a few minutes before ten, and he went downstairs. It was still quiet, and had gotten dark. He turned on a few lights, including the porch light, and went into the family room to watch the news on the big TV. Right off the bat the news reporter said they had exciting actual footage of a rescue, and an interview with Med City’s newest hero. Kevin soon figured out they said that to keep people watching, since it seemed like a long time before they got to it. But he recognized the reporter, Kelly Hart, who actually co-anchored the broadcast. Each had their own segment, but sometimes finished each others sentences. 
The co-anchorman said, “I understand there was excitement near Silver Lake Park today, Kelly, and you were on the scene.”
“Yes I was, Burt. It was extraordinary. Have you ever wondered how you’d perform in a life or death situation? See how one Rochester young man rose to the occasion right after this message from our sponsor.” 
Kevin hoped the car dealer would make it quick, but remembered that somebody had to pay for the limo ride. When Kelly Hart was back on the screen, she said:
“Today I was down at Silver Lake Park, interviewing people from the Audubon Society. I noticed the camera was off angle, so I tried getting the cameraman’s attention until I realized he was filming something far more important. I’ll run this clip, followed by an interview with a real hero. Watch as Kevin Johnson, son of Drs. Bridget and Paul Johnson II, saves the life of a young boy.” 
The film showed a man running down the road. Kevin could hardly believe it was him until the child and the truck came into the picture. The camera zoomed in a bit and he could see his face. He looked like he was in agony as he strained for yardage. Then he snapped the boy up and clutched him in his arms like an oversized football. The truck seemed as if it was going to run them down. As it skidded by, his shoe flew off. But he made it across the pavement, collapsing onto the grass. The picture stopped there, and when it resumed he was on the ground with a policeman standing over him, screaming.
The cameraman must have moved in closer, and Kelly Hart must have dubbed in her narration of the event: 
“On scene you can see Kevin Johnson being mistakenly berated by one of Rochester’s finest until Johnson’s girlfriend, Bonnie McGee, gets on the scene and in his face to straighten him out. It seems the officer jumped to the conclusion that the child belonged to, and was being cared for by, Johnson and McGee. Once Bonnie McGee took care of the policeman, she took care of her man.”
The next scene was of him and Bonnie in each other’s arms in the midst of a steamy kiss. When they came up for air, there was applause. They didn’t look up, but at each other and smiled. Then Kelly Hart and Burt Gentry came back on.
“That sure was a close one. Did you see how the truck knocked his shoe off, Burt?”
“That I did, Kelly. Speaking of close, Bonnie McGee probably knocked Kevin Johnson’s other shoe off with that kiss. Wow!”
“Aren’t they just the cutest couple, Burt?”
“They sure are, Kelly.”
“That was the greatest act of bravery I’ve ever seen. How do you think a person ever gets back to normal life after something like that, Burt?”
“Who says they have to, Kelly? My bet is it won’t be long before those two are chasing their own little one around. That reminds me: let’s move on to sports and find out if the Twins managed to score today.”
Kevin felt as if that ominous cloud over his head had just produced a bolt of lightning. 

Chapter Five
The phone rang while Kevin was staring off into space. The ringing brought him back to the here and now, a place he was trying to escape. He let it ring again, afraid it was Bonnie’s dad wanting to come over to castrate him. Maybe he could cut a deal with him and have his mom do it. He was fairly confident she’d at least use an anesthetic. On the third ring he looked at the caller I.D. It was Mom’s cell phone, so he answered, “Hi, Mom.”
“Kevin! We were just watching the news at the Barton’s and saw you. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You don’t sound very good. Is anything wrong?”
“I thought everything was right, but everything is wrong, Mom.”
“We’re on our way and will be right there,” she said and broke the connection. 
He set the handset down and the phone rang again. The caller I.D. showed a name he didn’t recognize. Instead of answering, he ran upstairs to check for email. There was nothing, but the phone resumed ringing. Again, the caller I.D. displayed an unrecognizable name, and he didn’t pick up. Kevin went over and sat on his bed, and then just fell backwards, staring at the dark ceiling. The phone rang again, and that time he didn’t even look at the caller I.D., and certainly didn’t answer it. He wasn’t sure how long he had lain there before hearing, “Kev? Are you okay?” It was Mom. He picked his head up a bit, looked at her and said, “You said you saw me on TV, right?”
“I did, Kev. So did the Bartons and another couple.”
“Were they amused? I doubt Bonnie’s parents were.”
She walked closer and then sat beside him. He sat up all the way, and she wrapped her arms around him.
“What did Dad think, Mom? Did he say anything?”
She gently rocked with him in her arms. She didn’t respond to his question, and he took that as a bad sign. He put his arms around her, wanting more comfort, approval. They stayed that way for awhile without talking, but at least he no longer felt alone. 
“It’ll work out. I’m so proud of you, Kev. You saved a life but almost lost yours.”
He felt one of her tears fall onto his shoulder. 
“I love you so much, Kev,” she said, and started bawling. 
This time he gently rocked her in his arms. 
The telephone rang again but stopped. He figured “Dad” answered it. 
Kevin and his mom held each other and cried. He knew she cried because he was depressed, and that he had nearly been killed. He cried because she was. Then he heard footsteps. The only light in the room was from the lamp on his desk. “Dad” switched on the main light and the glare was blinding.
“Somebody just called and asked if you got lucky with your girlfriend, Kevin.”
Kevin looked up at him and saw anger, but couldn’t tell who it was directed at.
“Well, did you?” he challenged.
“How dare you, Paul?” His mother bristled like a tiger defending her cub. “How dare you ask him something like that? Kevin saved a life today. He was nearly killed. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Have you ever known a real hero? I’m holding one in my arms, and if you so much as say one more nasty word I’m taking him and leaving.”
The silence was deafening. They all froze in place, Kevin and his mother staring at his father—the man who he’d thought for all his life was his father—“Dad” staring at them. Mom was breathing heavily, her body tense. 
“You’re ready to condemn him,” she went on, “and you haven’t listened to his story. You didn’t even see the part where he saved that boy. You were in the bathroom and didn’t get out until the end. What’s wrong with you, Paul? Who are you?”
Kevin’s father—the man he’d thought was—stood his ground for the longest time. Then his eyes rolled up and his jaw trembled. He covered his face with his hands, and soon was crying.
Kevin’s mother got up, went to him, and said, “Paul, look at me and tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking I’m a terrible husband and a rotten father. I’m thinking maybe it’s because my parents named me after a convicted felon. I’m thinking all I’ve ever cared about was making money. That’s why this Costa Rica thing is so important. Maybe I can redeem myself.” 
She grabbed his face with both hands, looked at him and said, “You’ve been a good father up until tonight. The one rotten thing you’ve been is a son.” 
She sidestepped the issue about what kind of husband he’d been, and that struck Kevin as odd. Plus, that was the first he had heard about a convicted felon. 
“You’ve always felt guilty about being named after your grandfather, and held that against your father. That’s so wrong, Paul.” 
Grandfather? His grandfather was a convicted felon? 
“There’s that other reason I lost confidence in my parents, too, Bridget. You know. That other thing I found out about them.” 
“What? You mean that they married so young? So what? It isn’t like they had to, and big deal if they did. You wrote them out of your life for thirty-five years for that? You’re a monster, Paul.”
Kevin’s dad—the man Kevin had thought was—nervously glanced at him and then back to Mom. 
“They shouldn’t have kept all those secrets from me, Bridget,” he said lamely, and hung his head in shame. 
“You mean like we’ve been doing to our son?” Mom countered. 
Here it comes, Kevin thought, the dirt about him. 
“We shouldn’t have done that, either,” she went on. “What’s the difference? You need to accept the truth. Why do you think you were named after your grandfather?”
The man Kevin had thought was his father raised his head in response, looked at her. 
“Your father named you after your grandfather because he loved his father and wanted to honor him.”
“But he killed somebody,” he retorted. 
“He was a race car driver, not a criminal,” Mom said, shaking her head adamantly. “And it was an accident.” 
Race car driver? His grandfather, the convict, was a race car driver? 
“Yeah,” the man Kevin had thought was his father replied, “Al Capone’s driver.”
“He was a good man used as a scapegoat.” 
“Innocent people don’t go to prison, Bridget.” 
“It’s happened. Why can’t you believe in your own family? I do. The only reason I agreed to this Costa Rica thing was so Kevin could get to know his other grandparents.” 
His other grandparents? Does that mean they actually were, Kevin wondered? 
“I don’t need to work with the poor to relieve my conscience,” Mom went on, “because I don’t feel guilty about shunning my parents. Giving two months of your life to help others is a noble thing, but it’ll never make up for unresolved issues with your father. I love you, Paul, but when we get back you are going to therapy or I’m taking our son and leaving you.” 
She had lost her temper and her face was red with rage, but some of that rage must have been building for years. Kevin quit feeling sorry for himself. 
“Paul, unless your next move is to apologize to your son …”
She said “your son” Kevin realized. 
“ … I suggest you leave this room and go to bed, which tonight will be in the den,” she added and stomped off. 
Kevin’s maybe father had tears running down his cheeks. “When I was about your age,” he said, “I found out my grandfather was a convict when some kids at school gave me a hard time about it. My dad said he was waiting for the right time to tell me, but that it wasn’t really important because his father was a good man who shouldn’t have gone to prison. I never talked to my grandfather again, and only talked to my dad when I couldn’t avoid it. I’m sorry for my outburst, Kev. Will you forgive me?” 
“So, I really am yours?” Kevin said, overwhelmed by it all. 
“What?” his dad asked, sounding befuddled. 
“I was thinking I might be somebody else’s—that you resented me for it.”
“Why would you ever think that?” his father asked, closed the gap and wrapped his arms around him. 
“I’ve noticed the way you look at me when you think I don’t see you,” Kevin replied. “Plus, I am kind of short … and I don’t really resemble you.” 
“Oh, no, you’re ours,” his father insisted, hugging him. “Your mother’s and mine; absolutely no doubt. You look like my grandfather. I’m so sorry, Kev. Can you forgive me?” he asked, then stepped back and looked at Kevin with anticipation. 
Kevin’s emotions spiked. He wanted to jump, laugh, scream, and cry. But, instead, he hugged his father and said, “I’d love to, Dad, but first you have to agree to … you know, do what Mom said when you get back. And you also have to make it up to Grandmother and Grandfather.” 
His dad smiled a little and said, “Thank you. I promise on both counts. You sure don’t seem fourteen anymore.”
“I don’t feel fourteen anymore. Dad, I forgive you, but you better see if you can get Mom to. She’s pretty upset.” 
He nodded and left. 
Kevin’s computer gave out a “ping.” He had email. 
Dear Kev,
My mom freaked out while watching the news, and we got in a big fight. She dropped a big one on me, and then I freaked out. Daddy still likes you and is supporting me, so now he and Mom are fighting, too. The only one in this house who isn’t in on the fracas is my little sister. I need to see you and will feign illness tomorrow to get out of going to church. Please be ready at about nine and I’ll email confirmation to you if I’m successful. Wish me luck.
Love,
Bonnie
This would have been easier if they had cell phones, but most of the kids at their school didn’t. The rules were very strict, and all the parents had been informed: Any and all cell phones seen would be confiscated and never returned. It didn’t matter if they had been silenced or even turned off. You would lose it forever. 
He composed a brief response: 
Dear Bonnie,
Received your email and will be standing by. There was a big fight over here, too, but I think it’s over. Hope to see you tomorrow.
Love,
Kevin 

Chapter Six
Kevin set his alarm for eight and went to bed. He actually slept, too. The only problem was his reoccurring dream. He kept chasing after that kid over and over. Every time he got close enough to the truck to see the driver, he looked up into the cab and saw a woman hunched over the steering wheel, scowling at him. And every time, she accelerated and tried to run him down. He had never seen Bonnie’s mother but, when he did, if she looked anything like the woman in his dream he’d freak out. 
When the alarm went off, he awoke in a sweat and was glad to hit the shower. After he finished drying himself, he carefully brushed his teeth and tongue to insure that his breath would be its freshest. After dressing, he studied at his computer desk while waiting for Bonnie’s message. At 8:55 a.m. it popped in, and he clicked it open. 
Dear Kev,
I did it. Please hurry, and put your bike behind the pine tree in the front yard and come to the front door.
Love,
Bonnie
He replied:
Dear Bonnie,
I’m on my way.
Love,
Kevin
He already made a note that said:
Dear Mom and Dad,
Had to go out for awhile but will be back as soon as possible.
Love,
Kevin
He dropped the note on the kitchen table and quietly slipped out to the garage. For stealth, he took his bicycle out the side access door instead of using the big garage door. He pedaled rapidly, but didn’t exert himself so he wouldn’t get too sweaty. 
Bonnie must have been watching for him because the door opened before he even climbed the stairs. He hurried in, and she shut and locked it. It was the first time he saw her in blue jeans and a T-shirt. It was a fancy, low-cut, bright green T-shirt, but a T-shirt nonetheless. They embraced, but he let go when he felt her shaking. He stepped back and noticed that she was crying, and one side of her face was red. 
“What’s the matter, Bonnie? What happened to your face?”
“Lots of things are wrong, Kev. And my face is red because my mom slapped me.”
“What?”
“I probably had it coming. I got angry and said something stupid.”
“Like what?”
“I told her I wasn’t going to church today because I didn’t feel well. She asked what was wrong, and I told her I felt a little nauseous. She gasped and said, ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ I replied, ‘If I am, Kevin must have given me one hellava kiss.’“ 
“What did your dad say?” 
“He was getting the car out, so he doesn’t know about it and I’m not telling him. He already has enough trouble dealing with Psycho Mom. Let’s go in the kitchen and eat while we talk. We should be safe for about an hour.”
She led the way, and he sat where she pointed.
“What would you like? Toast? Cereal? Eggs? The works?”
“Cereal is fine, Bonnie.” He watched her move around, getting bowls, spoons, cereal, and milk from the fridge. She looked great in jeans and a T-shirt, even if she was upset. He probably shouldn’t have noticed something like that then, but easier said than done. Once she was seated she slid the cereal box his way, so he filled his bowl and then hers. She smiled and poured milk on his, and then hers, and they began eating. Between bites and after swallowing, she asked, “How did you get out of church today?”
“We don’t go to church.”
“Never?”
“Not that I remember.”
“That’s funny. You go to a parochial school but not church? Think you’ll ever go?”
“With you if you want me to.” She seemed to be digesting that and spooned another mini-wheat into her mouth and chewed. He took a break from chewing, swallowed, and said, “Last night my parents were over at some friends’ house playing cards. They must have turned the television on at ten and saw us on the news, except my dad was using the bathroom and missed the first part. All he saw was us kissing, and then of course the commentary. I was in my room when they got home, and Mom came in first. She was crying because of my close call, and because I was depressed. That Burt guy sure did a job on us. Anyway, the phone rang and Dad answered it. It was ringing all the time after the story aired. Dad came into my room and told us that somebody called and asked if I got lucky with my girlfriend. And then he said, ‘Well, did you?’” Bonnie’s big, beautiful green eyes got bigger but she let him go on. “My mother went crazy on him, and I learned that our family has secrets you’d never believe.”
“Try me, Kev.”
“My father has been holding a grudge against his father since he was our age because my grandfather named him after his father, who—get this—was Al Capone’s race car driver.”
“He was into racing?” Bonnie asked.
“I guess. Anyway, somebody got killed in an accident and they sent him to prison for it. My dad didn’t find out until some kids at school gave him a bad time about it. He was also angry because he found out that my grandmother and grandfather got married when they were very young. Mom said, ‘So what? It isn’t like they had to, and big deal if they did.’” 
Bonnie swallowed and asked, “How young?”
“I don’t know but I’ll find out. My mother has apparently been simmering for a long time over these things and she finally blew up. She told my dad if he said one more nasty thing, she and I were leaving him. He shut up, and she told him the only reason she agreed to go to Costa Rica with him was so I could get to know my grandparents. Then she said when they get back he had to go to therapy or she’d take me and leave him.” 
“What did he say?”
“After Mom left the room, he apologized, asked me to forgive him. I told him I would if he promised to do what Mom said, and also apologize to my grandparents. He said he will.”
Kevin refrained from disclosing his other exciting news: My mom isn’t a tramp; I really am my father’s son! He’d never rehash that dreadful episode, ever again. 
“That’s all very interesting, Kev, but I’ll have to say your night was way better than mine. My parents, my twelve year old sister, and I sat down to watch the news. The first part was outstanding. I even thought our kiss was … nice. My mother, however, did not. I didn’t look away from the TV until everything was over, but Mom was making disturbing noises. When good ol’ Burt added his color commentary, she went berserk. She ordered my sister to bed and began screaming at me. I don’t remember everything she said. She probably doesn’t, either. It was like listening to someone possessed. My dad tried calming her down, and pretty soon she started in on him. She had a big vein sticking out on her forehead. I thought she was going to have a stroke or something. Then she dropped a big one on me: We’re moving.”
“What?” Kevin remembered that ominous cloud full of lightning bolts. 
Bonnie held up her hands and said, “Don’t get too excited. Not yet, anyway. They didn’t plan on telling us until school was over because they didn’t want me to get upset and mess-up my exams. But Mom got in my face and told me I wouldn’t be seeing you since we’re moving. She was real mean about it, too. You should have seen her. Afterwards, she ran off and was slamming doors and stomping all over the house. Here’s the deal: my dad accepted a promotion in Madison, Wisconsin. But get this: you know my mom is a real estate agent, right?”
“Yeah.”
“My dad looked for acceptable houses a couple weeks ago. My mom went back with my dad’s part of the purchase agreement signed, did a final look, and made an offer on a house in Mount Horeb. I think it’s about twenty-five miles from Madison, but more importantly: only a little over forty from Darlington. I Googled it last night. Dad filled me in on the details while Mom was on her rampage. He was pretty much just ignoring her until she came back and called me a little slut. That’s when he jumped up and restrained her. He held her arms behind her back, forced her over to the mirror and told her to look at herself. Then he let her go and she started crying and ran into their bedroom. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll find a way to get together while you’re staying with your grandparents.”
“What about after that?” 
“We’ll think of something. It would help if we had money. Do you have any, Kev?”
“I’ve saved a couple hundred dollars or so.” He shrugged. 
“I don’t suppose fourteen-year-olds can get regular jobs, huh?”
“Probably just lawn mowing and babysitting,” he said. Bonnie was right. Everything would be lots easier if they had money. The other problem was that they needed time together, and it took time to make money. 
“With your reputation you could get all the babysitting jobs you want, Kev.”
“I don’t plan on changing diapers ‘til I have to, Bonnie.”
She got up, rinsed their spoons and bowls and put them in the dishwasher. She put away the cereal and milk, looked at the clock and said, “How about if I show you around?” 
And off they went, first to the living room and then the dining room. 
Kevin’s parents’ place was nice but that house was elegant, the furniture expensive looking, and the dining room table very impressive. A lot of thought must have gone into the decorating. He suspected that Bonnie’s dad must have done lots of entertaining for business. She led him down a bright, wide hallway when something caught his eye and he stopped. On the wall was a decent sized painting of a cowboy on a beautiful horse. It was a Southwestern setting with the horseman riding away from the sunset, toward the viewer.
“Hey, Bonnie, this looks like your dad.” 
She stopped and came back to his side.
“You like it, Kev?”
“I love it.”
“Thank you. Sometimes I like to put people I know in my paintings.”
He turned to her, put his hands on her arms and asked, “You made this?”
“Yeah. I’m glad you like it. That means a lot to me, Kev.”
He pulled her closer and they kissed. They didn’t hold each other as tightly as portrayed on the news the previous night. He was sure a piece of paper would’ve fit between them. 
“This means a lot to me, too,” she said with hot breath into his ear. “But we better move along before my folks get home.” 
He knew she was right, but stopped her and said, “You said, ‘your paintings.’ Does that mean you have more?”
“Plenty. Most are stored in the attic above the garage. I’ve been painting since I was eight. Started with watercolors, but I like oil best.” 
“Have you ever sold any?” 
“No,” she answered, shaking her head. 
Then she flicked her hair behind her shoulders, and he smelled that lovely fragrance of hers again. “Have you ever thought about it?”
“Sure I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never had the nerve to try.”
“Of course you could never sell this one,” he declared. 
“Why not?”
“It’s too good. Besides, you’d probably hurt your dad’s feelings. If any of your other paintings are half this good, I think you could earn lots of money selling a few. Somebody with your talent has no business getting a regular job.” 
This time she put her arms around him first, he wrapped his around her, and they kissed again. He caressed her with both hands, and then made a move with one. Making his way up the side of her chest, he wondered if he’d be able to feel her nipple through her top and bra. But when he cupped his hand around her breast, the protrusion seemed to have found him instead. He moved his hand enough so he could feel it with his thumb, and realized he just touched the tip of the sensuous treasures of Bonnie McGee. 
Soon, gentle fingers wrapped around his wrist and firmly repositioned his hand to the area of her waist and hip. But she pulled him closer and he felt her hardened nipples against him in spite of the fabric between them. He imagined what it would be like without the obtrusive clothing, their skin pressed as intimately as their lips were then. He had both hands on her slender waist, with his fingers at the top of her perfectly shaped derriere. Holding her tighter, he realized he was fully aroused, and it was sticking up not trapped in a pant leg. Relaxing his grasp, hoping she hadn’t noticed, he pivoted his lower torso away enough so they weren’t touching. To his surprise, a hot little hand at the small of his back drew them back together, and with her other hand she caressed his upper back. Then her lips parted, inviting his to do the same, and their tongues touched. 
But Bonnie’s sensibilities eventually kicked in and they continued their tour. They hadn’t had enough time to finish before her parents and sister got back, but she promised they could take up where they left off another day. 
Kevin pedaled the mile or so from her house to his in half a daze, but when he arrived he still needed a cold shower. He put his bicycle in the garage and rushed to his bathroom, stripped, and turned on the cold water.  
It really helped. 
He dried off, quickly dressed, and went downstairs. His parents were in the family room, reading on the couch, sitting at opposite ends facing each other. One of his mother’s feet was between his dad’s legs, her toes tickling his crotch. She quickly moved her foot back when she saw him. Dad bent a knee, lifted it up, probably hiding an erection. Oh, yes, his parents had made-up. For the first time, he was pleased that they were hot for each other. But he’d been trying to stifle thoughts of sex, and this didn’t help. Soon he’d be thinking about being with Bonnie again. He started to turn around, but Mom said, “Don’t go, Kevin. Come on in.”
“You sure?” he asked. “We could talk later.” 
“No, no, come here and tell us what you’ve been up to,” his dad said, but was obviously embarrassed by his presence. 
Kevin swallowed hard, entered the room all the way and sat in his father’s leather rocker-recliner so he could hide his nervousness by rocking. “I was just over at Bonnie’s house. We had stuff to discuss.” 
“Were her parents there?” his mother asked. 
He shook his head. “No, that probably wouldn’t be safe. Bonnie’s mother would kill me.” 
“Would it help if I talk to her, Kev?” Mom asked. 
He could tell she was concerned because her forehead was all wrinkled. “Bonnie’s dad can’t even get through to her. Bonnie said she was running around screaming, crying, and slamming doors for hours last night.” 
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, Kev,” Mom said, “but I think Bonnie is really nice. Cute, too. I hope things work out. You are going to see her again, aren’t you?” 
Dad just sat there with a blank, unreadable expression. 
“Yeah, but of course I’ll be going away for two months—”
“I’m sorry, Kev,” Mom slipped in. 
“And Bonnie is moving,” he continued. 
His mother’s expression turned to sadness, and she left the couch and knelt beside him, hugging him. “I’m so sorry, Kev.”
“Thanks, Mom. We aren’t giving up, though.” 
He imagined many fourteen-year-olds had said pretty much the same thing when faced with such a dilemma. The intentions were there, but eventually reality took over and they got on with their lives. The ones they thought they loved faded from their memories, and they found someone else. He was sure Bonnie’s mother was counting on it. Who knows? Maybe her dad and his parents were, too, and were just being civil about it. But he knew he was no longer a normal fourteen-year-old, and was sure Bonnie wasn’t, either. Besides, they didn’t just think they were in love, they were in love. They were the real deal. 

Chapter Seven
The Johnsons were just finishing lunch when the telephone rang. Dad gave the caller I.D. a puzzled look before picking it up. “Johnson residence, Paul speaking.” There was a pause, and then he said, “One moment, please.” He covered the mouthpiece and quietly said, “Kelly Hart from KTCC-TV News. Do you want to talk to her, Kevin?”
He shrugged, but got up and took the phone from his father. “Hello, this is Kevin.”
“Hi, Kevin. Kelly Hart from KTCC-TV News. Do you have time to talk?”
“I guess so.”
“I’m sorry about the comments my co-anchor made. Sometimes I have no idea what’ll come out of his mouth. I hope it didn’t create trouble.” 
“I’m sure things could be worse, Ms. Hart. I just can’t imagine how, right now.”
“I’m so sorry, Kevin, and please call me Kelly. Is their anything I can do?”
“U.N. peace-keeping troops might help,” he quipped. 
She laughed and said, “It’s good that you still have a sense of humor. I’m serious, though. If there’s any way I can help I’m willing to try. Is there someone you’d like me to talk to?”
“My girlfriend’s mother reacted … poorly to the broadcast, Kelly. I think she’s facing the dilemma of whether to kill me before or after the castration.” 
Both parents’ sets of eyebrows went up. 
“I feel really bad about this, Kevin. I’m willing to try and talk to her about it.”
“You’re a brave woman, Kelly. I’d rather face that truck again.” 
She laughed. “Give me her telephone number and address. If she won’t talk to me on the phone, I’ll go see her,” she reassured. “Her name is Mrs. McGee, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Thank you, Kelly. Good luck, and wear your running shoes if you go over there.”
“There’s one more reason I called, Kevin. The mayor and the chief of police would like to honor you and Bonnie at a dinner. I think they plan on presenting some sort of medal or commendation. Would you be interested in that? Both yours and Bonnie’s parents could go, too, of course.”
“If you can get Bonnie’s mother to go, I’ll go. There might be another problem, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I have final exams next week, and then I’ll be out of the state for a couple months. Besides that, I’d have to make sure we could fit it in with my parents’ schedules.”
“I’ll get right on it and call you back. Is there anything else I can do, Kevin?”
“Yeah, Kelly: it might be best not to have Burt attend.” 
They left it at that, and said their goodbyes. 
Kevin desperately wanted to know about his mysterious grandparents and his deceased ancestors, particularly the roguish race-car driver his dad thought he resembled. But, since the mental anguish they had all experienced was still fresh, he didn’t push his father for information. He did, however, manage to squeeze in a few subtle questions before his father sequestered himself to compose a letter of apology to his parents. What Kevin learned was that his paternal grandfather Don was the only child of Alice and Paul Johnson—Paul being the notorious wheel-man. Paul’s wife Alice was the only daughter of Maria and Alex, making Maria and Alex Kevin’s great-great-grandparents. Alex, allegedly a mechanical genius, was the brainpower and crew-chief of the car Kevin’s great-grandfather drove. 
That satisfied Kevin, for then. 
Kevin’s father spent the rest of the afternoon writing and re-writing his request for forgiveness, thinking a simple phone call or email wouldn’t suffice. He said he’d take it to FedEx on Monday and over-night it to emphasize its importance. 
Later on, Kevin’s mother asked what time Brian would be coming over to watch the race. He told her that Brian sent an email explaining he had to go to Minneapolis and help his mom. 
“She never mentioned he was going with, so I thought he’d be staying home with his dad,” she said.
“I don’t think he wants to be around Uncle Brad unless he absolutely has to, Mom.” 
“Could your father and I watch it with you, Kev?”
“You don’t have to, Mom.”
“We’d love to, honey. Especially if you’ll share your pizza with us.”
He wasn’t sure if they liked watching the race, but they acted interested, asked questions, and seemed to pay attention most of the time. It had been awhile since they did anything together, except eating dinners, and he actually enjoyed it. 
Kevin’s week went by in a blur. Exams were going all right, and Kelly Hart did talk to Bonnie’s mother and arranged the dinner in his honor for Wednesday evening. Bonnie looked even more beautiful than usual and sat next to him. He did his best to impress Mrs. McGee but, since she had her head filled with so many negative thoughts, he thought she found him hard to like. 
The policeman who yelled at him and Bonnie apologized and gave them each a “Get out of Rochester’s Jail Free” card signed by the police chief. Mayor Brede presented him with a medal, which must have been made at a trophy shop, and a five-hundred dollar Visa gift card so he could, “Buy new shoes since the truck scuffed one of yours, and new clothes in case yours have grass stains.” Bonnie was given a medallion on a ribbon, which was hung around her neck by the police chief, for “Making the officer see the error of his ways, and for showing restraint and not hitting him with Mr. Johnson’s shoe.”
His parents visited with Mr. McGee while Bonnie’s mother kept an eagle eye out like she was expecting them to sneak off and “do it” right there. The dinner itself was just okay, but the event was nice. Kelly Hart’s KTCC-TV News crew filmed everything, and she promised a tasteful story would be shown after careful editing. 
Overnight, Kevin and Bonnie became the most celebrated couple of the school year. But on the last day at school, he was hit-on twice by pretty girls who had heard Bonnie was moving. They assumed he would be getting a new girlfriend and wanted to “beat the rush”—their words not his. He was flattered since he always thought of himself as kind of geeky, even though not smart enough to be considered an actual nerd. Of course he informed them that he and Bonnie were still very much an item. 
Bonnie had Kevin over to her house several times while her mother was away, while everyone was away, and showed him the rest of her paintings. They were impressive, wonderful works of art, at least from his fourteen-year-old perspective. But he no longer felt fourteen, and was willing to bet her work was worth big money. She had a talent that would take her far, and it made him nervous because he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life other than be with her. He did not want to be a doctor, and it was a good thing because he wasn’t smart enough. Not in his mind. He felt destined for something, though, but hadn’t a clue what it was. He had to find it soon, and it better be good, because he didn’t want her getting bored with him. Saving one little life couldn’t carry him forever. 
And during their trysts, they enjoyed themselves as much as they possibly could with their pants on, maintaining some semblance of innocence. But at each subsequent session they went a bit further as Kevin tested her limits, believing she expected it of him, that if he didn’t she might think he was either a wimp or didn’t find her totally desirable. The truth was: the thought of “going all the way” frightened him immensely even though he never wanted anything more. The inevitable getting naked with her would be one thing, dealing with the birth control issue—that he hadn’t done yet—was another. He worried about being a let-down, but had no choice but to forge ahead. So far she reined him in before things got too serious—gave him a soft but firm “No” and moved his hands—but she did some groping of her own. And their kisses went on and on. It was all justified, though: they were overwrought about being torn apart, their future uncertain. 
Early Saturday morning, while on the way to his grandparents’ house, they stopped by the McGee’s so he could say goodbye to Bonnie. They kissed while, Kevin imagined, her father had her mother tied in a chair at the other end of the house. 

Chapter Eight
The Johnsons traveled toward Kevin’s grandparents’ house in Dad’s BMW 535i. He believed that a prominent plastic surgeon should have a prominent automobile, but not too extravagant. It was a very nice car with leather interior and a sporty manual transmission, but Kevin decided Bonnie’s dad’s Charger was a manlier car even though it had an automatic transmission. Kevin’s mother insisted on having him in the front with Dad so she could have the back seat to herself, but he thought it was because she wanted to make sure he and Dad were on good terms before parting for two months. Mom could be a shrink in her spare time, if she had any. 
“You’ve never told me anything about Grandmother and Grandfather, Dad. What are they like? What do they do? What did they do before they got old?”
“I haven’t talked to them for so long that I don’t really know what they do now, Kev. The last time I saw them was last summer at our Fourth of July picnic. Your mother invited them, I had no idea they were coming, and I avoided them. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t forget to tell them that, Dad. Do you remember what they where like before you were angry with them?”
“Your grandfather was an engineer at Harley-Davidson—“
“Wow!” Kevin interrupted. “That’s cool,” he added, and noticed his dad smile a bit.
“I think he started there around 1960,” Dad went on. “I’m not sure when he retired.”
“He retired at the age of sixty-five in 2000,” Mom quickly added. 
“Mother … I mean your grandmother,” Dad said, “was a school teacher. I think she started her career even before your grandfather landed his job at Harley. I’m not sure when she retired, either.” 
“She retired in 1996 at the age of sixty-two,” said Mom. “And she wasn’t just a teacher, she was an art teacher. Has friends who still are. They often meet for lunch on Wednesdays in Madison.” 
“Thank you, honey,” Dad said. 
Mount Horeb, Kevin knew, was on the way to Madison from Darlington. Excited, he looked back and saw his mother smiling without looking up from her magazine. Deciding to keep his thoughts to himself about that, he instead asked, “Isn’t Harley-Davidson in Milwaukee, Dad?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Isn’t that kind of far from Darlington?”
“Yes, but we lived in Milwaukee. We often went to my grandparents’ place on the weekends. I avoided going there after I became … angry with them, though.”
“After your grandfather retired,” Mom interjected, “they had some of the old houses on the property near Darlington torn down and a new one built. They sold the place in Milwaukee shortly after.” 
“Your grandfather grew up there with his parents,” Dad said, “and his grandparents. Now that I think about it, my great-great-aunt and uncle and their daughter lived on the compound, too.” 
“Compound?” Kevin asked. 
“Sort of. It’s the original acreage where my great-grandfather built Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. That was his last name. He also started PJ’s Trucking while my grandfather was … in prison.”
“Tchaikovsky? Like the composer?” 
“I don’t know about that,” Dad said, “but I think it’s spelled the same. He was a Russian immigrant, came to this country as a child in the late 1800’s with an old aunt.”
“What happened to his parents?”
“He was an orphan. Your grandfather can most likely tell you the details.” 
Kevin saw, in his peripheral vision, his mother—still looking at her magazine—smile imperceptibly. “What about PJ’s Trucking?” he asked his father. “What was that?”
“Paul Johnson Trucking: the company Alexander created using some of the money Capone gave him to hold for Paul.”
“He used him as a scapegoat, but still paid him?” Kevin said.
“He didn’t make a scapegoat of him,” Mom cut in. “Some big-shot politician did that. Al Capone paid him roughly what he would have made if he wasn’t doing time, since he was arrested while employed by him.” 
Dad gave her a look in the mirror. “So, anyway,” he went on, “Alexander invested the money so he’d have a long-term income. He was pretty smart for an old crook.”
“He was not an old crook,” Mom piped in, “None of them were. Well, maybe Al Capone was. But, to be fair, even he was only convicted of tax evasion. These days they call that white collar crime. A lot of people made fortunes from bootlegging in those days and never got caught. One of them even had a son who became President. Let’s just leave Al Capone out of this for now and talk objectively about your family, Paul.”
“But they worked for The Mob, Bridget.”
“Technically, Alexander and Paul did, but there’s way more to the story and little of it is black and white. It wasn’t like they were walking around with machine guns … although I think your great-great-uncle Tony might have done some of that.” 
“What?”
“Forget I said anything, Paul. Maybe we should wait and let your parents tell it. Remember: they’re your parents and they love you. That’s all you really need to know.”
Dad got down to the business of driving—something he seemed to have a curiously innate passion for—turned on his radar detector, downshifted, and started passing cars. As the BMW hummed along the highway, Kevin got the feeling his dad was anxious to see his parents. He was, too. So far everything he’d heard about them was intriguing. 
After passing picturesque countryside and nearing Darlington, Dad reached to turn on his navigation system. 
“You won’t need that,” Mom said, “I’ll tell you where to turn.” 
“How would you know, Bridget?”
“I’ve been here a few times.”
Dad’s eyebrows went up as he turned to look at her. 
“Just watch the road,” she ordered. 
Kevin periodically looked back at her. Finally, she said, “Okay, turn right at this road coming up.”
It seemed like it took forever, but then up ahead he saw a huge wooden privacy fence that must have been two blocks long. It looked old, but was kept up nicely. Near the opening to a gravel driveway was a mailbox on one side, and a Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage sign on the other. 
“Here goes,” Dad said as he turned up the drive. 
It appeared, now that they had arrived, he was getting nervous. Kevin guessed he would be, too, if he had been snubbing his folks for thirty-five years. 
The first building he noticed was a large concrete block one with a rounded roof. It looked like part of a huge ribbed cylinder, a giant culvert that had been sliced the long way in thirds with one piece laid on top of the walls to cover the structure. The building looked as if it had been there a long time, but also was in nice condition, probably painted recently. There was a wide garage door about ten feet high, and a small access door next to it. Off to the left and up on a small hill was a nice, modern looking house with a covered porch stretching from one end to the other. There hung a huge “Welcome” banner. 
Kevin’s grandparents stepped onto the porch. The last time he saw them they were wearing blue jeans and leather jackets. Today Grandmother wore a dress, and Grandfather had on light brown slacks, a dark brown shirt, and a green and brown tweed sport coat. They looked like old farmers that had just cleaned up to go to town. When Dad shut off the car and they opened the doors, Kevin thought his grandmother started crying, and his grandfather hugged her. Dad didn’t wait for Kevin and Mom; he hurried to his parents. Kevin and his mother stayed back while they had a three way hug going on. Mom cried, too, and hugged him. 
“Come on up here, you two,” Grandfather beckoned from the porch. 
They complied, walked toward them. Mother and Grandmother went to each other, hugged, and exchanged a few words that Kevin couldn’t hear. 
“It’s great to see you again, Bridget,” Grandfather said. “Kevin, I’m sure proud to have a hero like you for a grandson. We’d love you even if you weren’t, but now we have bragging rights.” 
“You heard about my little … incident, huh, Grandfather?” 
“There was nothing little about it, Kevin. Your father somehow got a download of the footage from the news broadcast and sent it to us via email. He also sent the newspaper article. You’re quite the man, Kev,” he said naturally, as if he’d been close and calling him that for years. “And no need to be so formal. Call me ‘Grampa’ and your grandmother ‘Gramma.’” 
It made him feel good. Comfortable. “Thank you, Grampa. And thank you both for the great welcome.” 
“You’ve had a long drive. Let’s go in the house,” Grandma suggested. 
They went inside, Grandma showed them where the bathrooms were, and said they’d have lunch in fifteen minutes. They might have been out in the sticks, but Kevin decided that his grandparents weren’t hicks. The first room they entered was the kitchen, which was decorated like something out of a magazine, and it was spotless. The dining area was to the left, open to the kitchen. The nearest half bathroom was off of the wall-papered hall on the way to the den. 
The den was a combination sitting and television room, with an office or study at the back. The office area had a large wooden desk, with a bay window behind it, and a computer on top. There was a tall four-drawer file cabinet, and built-in book shelves along the walls. Kevin guessed everything was oak, including the flooring. The room was a long one with the television at the end closest to the hall, probably so a person could work at the desk without being disturbed. The television/sitting room was carpeted, and the furniture looked comfortable. 
Kevin was the first of the travelers back in the kitchen, and saw both grandparents working in unison, bringing everything to the table. Both seemed to know their tasks as there was little talking, but he could tell they had an intimate relationship. 
“Have a chair, Kev,” Grandpa said. “I think you’ll find your grandmother’s cooking superb, and I’m a fairly decent assistant. Don’t be surprised if you gain a few pounds during your stay.”
By the look of them, he doubted that. Grandma wasn’t exactly slim, but she looked healthy and spry, certainly trimmer than Mrs. Olander. His grandfather, though, was thin, perhaps a little too thin. Kevin didn’t think his grandfather could have weighed much more than he did. His parents entered the room and were shooed to the table, followed quickly by their hosts. Grandpa said grace, something they never did at home, and then passed things around. He couldn’t believe it was lunch. One dish had chicken breasts with wild rice and mushrooms, and then there was roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots, broccoli, and whole-wheat bread. Beverage choices were water, milk, wine, and beer. 
“What’s your favorite beer, Kev?” Grandpa asked. 
“Donny, you stop that,” Grandma said, laughing.
“What? Kevin doesn’t like beer?”
“He’s only fourteen,” Dad reminded. 
“Are you sure?” Grandpa joked. “He looks a lot older than that to me.” 
Everyone had water except Kevin; he drank milk. His parents would be driving back later in the afternoon, since they would be leaving for Costa Rica in the morning, and didn’t believe in drinking and driving. Both grandparents praised his parents for volunteering on such a great humanitarian effort. Kevin didn’t dare look at his mother. She did a commendable job with her comments, though. 
After lunch, the table cleared, Dad said to Grandpa, “Dad, I told Kevin you might be willing to tell the story about Alexander. I’d kind of like to hear it again myself, but Bridget and I have to leave soon.” 
“Then you’ll get the abbreviated version,” Grandpa answered with a smile. “I’ll go to my study and get the book.” 
“He has a book on it, Mom?” Dad asked. 
“You know your father,” she answered. Then her face reddened and she added, “I forgot. You have lots of catching up to do, Paul.” 
This time it was his father’s face that turned red. 
When his grandfather got back, he placed a large binder on the table, and then sat down and put his reading glasses on. 
Anguishing over whether to do it or not, Kevin finally just blurted out, “Before you get started, Grampa, could I ask you something?”
His grandfather looked at him over his reading glasses, then glanced at everyone else around the table, and said, “You have the floor, Kevin.”
“How is it possible that the first time I ever saw you and Gramma wasn’t until last year?”
There was silence until Dad nervously cleared his throat. “I’ll have to take credit for that,” he said. “I told your mother I was an orphan.”
“And yet she emails them regularly and invited them to our Fourth of July picnic last summer,” Kevin pointed out. “How did that come about?”
“I contacted your mother,” Grandma said to him. 
“How?”
“Two years ago I got my doctor to refer me to her at the Mayo Clinic. Made an appointment and went to see her. She had no idea who I was. There are plenty of Johnsons in the world.” 
Kevin’s mother started crying, and then said, “She came in and told me she had a terrible pain ‘right here,’” she added, holding a hand over her heart. “I told her there must be some mistake, as I’m not a cardiologist. Your grandmother replied, ‘No physical remedy will fix it, Doctor. My son, your husband, broke my heart thirty-three years ago when he disowned his father and me. Now I understand that I have a twelve year old grandson you won’t let us see. The pain is unbearable, Doctor. What do you recommend?’” 
Mom was sobbing uncontrollably. Dad knelt by her side, trying to comfort her. 
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Dad said to Mom, and then looked at the rest of them. “I’m sorry to all of you.” 
Now Dad was crying. 
“But if Gramma did that two years ago, why the delay?” 
“Your mother tried her best to work on him, dear,” Grandma assured. 
Mom suddenly stood, shook Dad’s hands off of her, and said, “I should have demanded an end to this nonsense right away. I was weak and it took me a year to call your father’s bluff.”
Kevin was confused, and when he glanced at his grandparents he could tell they were, too. Dad wasn’t crying anymore, but his face was beet red. 
Mom put her hands on her hips, held her chin up and said, “You know what he threatened me with? What I was too afraid to defy him on for a whole year?” She was looking at Kevin. 
“No, Bridget,” Dad said. “He doesn’t need to know about that.” 
“Sure he does, honey,” she said sarcastically. “I think it’s about time Kevin knows what a weak, pitiful woman I really am. Kevin, your father threatened to … not sleep with me if I had any contact with your grandparents.” 
Kevin wished he hadn’t pressed the issue. If he hadn’t been so dismayed he might have run off and hid somewhere, like a little boy. He’d become aware how powerful the allure of sex was, but had no idea his own mother was so vulnerable. 
“There,” Mom said, “at least I finally got that out. And after he hadn’t touched me in six months,” she went on, “I told him if he looked elsewhere for … comfort, he’d wake up groggy some day and find himself … altered. 
“Kevin,” she said, looking right at him, “you already know that I submitted to the Costa Rica thing on the condition you get to stay here.” She looked at his grandparents. “Paul agreed to go to counseling when we return. Maybe I’ll do the same.” She turned back to Kevin. “Will you ever forgive me, Kev? I’m sorry. Really sorry.” Tears flowed down her face. 
Kevin felt guilty for making his mother embarrass herself. He would have given anything to turn the clock back. He could hardly believe that his parents, two doctors, could be such flawed human beings, but he loved his mother so much. As for Dad: he had him pegged as the bad guy, even more so since learning of his perverted cruelty to Mom. His father: the big-shot plastic surgeon with feet of clay. Kevin got up, went over to his mother, and hugged her. “Of course, Mom. Please forgive me for making you go through this. I’m sorry.” 
He could tell she had regained her strength and composure as she held up her hands and said, “Nope, I’m glad we’ve aired our dirty laundry. Don, Keely, I’m sorry you had to hear this, but now you know our family secret.” 
“Gramma,” Kevin asked, “how did you ever find out about me?” 
“We knew Paul lived in Rochester, so we finally hired a private detective to find out what our son had been up to all those years. He even sent us pictures of you.” 
Grandma went to his mother and hugged her. She had tears running down her cheeks. Grandpa stood and went to a cupboard, came away with a bottle of whiskey and a small glass. He filled the glass and brought it over to Grandma and said, “Here, Keely, have a shot.”
“I don’t want that, dear,” Grandma said. 
Grandpa looked at Kevin, extended the hand holding the glass, and said, “How about you, Kev?” 
“Oh, Donny, stop that,” Grandma told him, “They’re going to think we’re just terrible.” Her tears turned into delightful laughter. 
“Just as I thought,” Grandpa said, “I’m the one who needs it.” He downed the whiskey in one gulp, set the glass on the counter and came back, sat down. “So,” he went on, “everyone better pay attention. We’ve got lots to cover, and time marches on.” 
They all listened intently. Even Grandma seemed enthralled. But Kevin had the feeling she knew every bit of it as well as Grandpa did, and that neither needed a book to tell it. Grandpa probably just used that, his reading glasses, his facial expressions, and his eye contact as props to hold their interest. Kevin was mesmerized. 
Grandpa told the remarkable story—adding color and detail that Kevin’s father hadn’t—of Alexander Tchaikovsky, a young Russian-Jewish orphan boy shunned by everyone in his family except an old schoolteacher aunt named Galina who cared for him after his mother died during childbirth. His father was a sea captain, and after his ship was declared missing, Galina brought him to the United States, believed it was the only place where he would have a chance. 
From there the story grew as he later worked in the auto industry until ambiguously losing his job. That was his tie-in with Al Capone: when he took the job as head of maintenance for a trucking fleet that turned out to be owned by the Chicago Mob. When Capone found out that Alexander had been a maestro, a race car maestro, he convinced him to build a racing team. At the 1927 Illinois State Fair their car was hit from behind and the throttle jammed, shooting it into the grandstands, killing the son of a United States senator. The driver, Alexander’s future son-in-law, Paul Johnson, Kevin’s great-grandfather, was charged and convicted of manslaughter. 
Grandpa explained that the story was much more involved, but that was all they had time for. Kevin marveled over his grandfather’s commanding presence, coupled with a remarkable air of levity. 

Chapter Nine
Dad had asked for a sidebar conference with Grandpa before Kevin’s parents said their goodbyes and left. Then Grandma told Grandpa to show Kevin around the property. As they walked toward the large concrete-block building, Grandpa said, “I grew up here, Kev. This was once my entire life, and I have fond memories of it. My grandfather bought this land during the depression and built it from nothing. The original business was named Tchaikovsky Towing & Repair.” 
“Did he buy it with booze money, Grampa?”
“Maybe some of it was, but he saved from other jobs, too. Alexander was a genius and a self-made engineer.”
“So you actually knew him?”
“Sure, he practically raised me.”
“What about your dad?” He was the one Kevin really wanted to know about. 
“He was an over-the-road truck driver, and if I was lucky I saw him two days a week. I was with my grandfather every day.”
“What about your mother?”
“Oh, she was here, too. This was a family operation, Kev. My mother helped run everything. She managed of PJ’s Trucking and was instrumental in turning Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage into a success.” 
“Why did your grandfather change the name from Tchaikovsky Towing & Repair to Towing & Salvage?”
“Until my father got out of prison, Great-uncle Tony did the driving for PJ’s Trucking in order to establish routes before the 1935 trucking regulations began. Tony was coming home on a deadhead run, that’s running empty, when he spotted a wrecked Model A Ford for sale. He thought it was a steal and would be handy at the shop for parts, so he bought it, loaded it up, and brought it home. He and my grandfather got to talking and decided that any time he found a good deal on something like that, he’d bring it home if he had the room. Pretty soon they had cars all over the place, and people started coming around to buy parts. Alex figured they could make more money selling parts than doing repairs, and he didn’t have time for both, so he changed the name.” 
When they arrived at the building, Grandpa took out his keys and unlocked the access door, opened it, walked in, and flicked on light switches. They were in a room divided from the rest of the building. “This, as you can see, is the office.” 
There was a countertop running the width of the room, with a swinging half-door near the right side. As Grandpa walked through it, he held it so it wouldn’t spring back and hit Kevin. It was one of those doors that could swing in either direction. Behind the counter were three wooden desks, all old and heavy-looking, with big wooden swivel chairs at each. One desk, the largest, had two wooden straight back chairs in front of it. That desk also held a computer and two telephones. The computer looked fairly new, but the phones were old black desk units. Each desk also held a green shaded lamp. All along the back wall were metal file cabinets. 
“What’s the computer for, Grampa?”
“That’s a necessary business tool these days, Kev.”
“You mean this is still a business?” He was astonished.
“Not much of one, I’ll admit, but it gives me something to do. Your grandmother says it keeps me out of mischief.”
Kevin looked around the office. Aside from the computer, the place looked like a movie set from times long ago. There were several pictures hanging on one wall, the only bare wall on that side of the counter. One was of a stocky man and a thin woman standing in front of an old truck, a wrecker, only it looked nice as if it had been new at the time. The ground was covered with snow. The man and the woman were both dark-haired and looked younger than his parents, maybe younger than Bonnie’s parents. Even though it’s hard to tell by looking at a picture, Kevin thought they looked nice. 
“That’s my grandmother Maria and grandfather Alex in 1933, with their first new tow-truck, two years before I was born. My mother took that picture shortly before my father was released from prison. Right after she took it she drove to Illinois to pick him up: her future husband.”
“She married him after he went to prison?” Kevin asked, astonished. 
“Yes, she did.” 
“Didn’t he have any family to pick him up, Grampa?”
“He was an orphan.”
His great-great-grandfather had been an orphan, his great-grandfather had been an orphan, and for thirty-five years his father had wanted to be. How strange, Kevin thought. Looking at the picture, although old and black and white, it was crystal clear and he could see life in the eyes of those people, his ancestors. He found it mesmerizing. 
“Come on, Kev. You can look at pictures later, and we have lots of albums in the house you can see, too.” Grandpa smiled. 
Kevin somehow felt a real connection to his grandfather and that place. Grandpa led the way through another door and switched on a bank of light switches. They were in the room behind the huge garage door. Just inside the door facing out was a late model flatbed tow truck with Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage painted on the door. On the roof were emergency lights. The wheels were shiny aluminum ones seeming to match the material and glow of the bed, only the bed was made out of what was called “fishplate.” The truck’s cab was painted bright yellow and the lettering black. 
“This is what I use for regular cars, SUVs, and light trucks,” Grandpa explained. “Anything bigger requires The Beast, but I don’t need that very often. Come on and I’ll show you.” 
They walked straight back, behind the flatbed, and “The Beast” was a good term for what he saw. This truck was old. Although the deep red paint was faded, he saw no rust but it wasn’t pretty. Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage was painted on the side in white letters. The Beast looked like it would take serious effort just to climb up and get in it. He imagined driving it wouldn’t be easy, either. They walked to the rear of it and he noticed, while the flatbed had dual wheels on a single rear axle, The Beast had dual wheels on tandem axles. Instead of a flatbed, the Beast had large twin booms. A cable ran through each with big hooks at the ends. 
“This one is used for trucks, all the way up to the big tractor-trailer rigs. I don’t get much call for it, and I’m glad. I’m getting too old to climb way up into this thing. Plus, on a good day going down hill, it gets about four miles per gallon.”
“So you still operate the wrecker service, Grampa?” 
He chuckled. “Keely’s brother, Peter, ran it for years while I worked at Harley-Davidson. When I went to college, he joined the Navy. He retired after thirty years as a Senior Chief Petty Officer. He and his wife moved back and helped Great-uncle Tony run the place until he died. Then Peter operated the business pretty much by himself ‘til I retired and he had hip surgery and retired again himself. I could have just hung it up, but decided to operate on a limited basis. I’m not listed in the phone book under towing or wrecker services anymore, but what I do is take calls from law enforcement agencies when nobody else is available. I haul in break-downs, abandoned vehicles, wrecks from accidents, and even when they pull somebody over for some reason and decide to have them towed. You know, drunk driving and stuff like that. I even hauled in a getaway car from a bank robbery once. 
“We have a certified impound lot out back where we used to keep junkers. There used to be old cars all over this property. That’s why the fence in front was put up: President Johnson’s wife got a bee in her bonnet about junkyards and we had to. All salvage yards were required to put up fences so nobody could see the wrecks. Some people used to love junkyards, and driving by them to sort of window-shop. I’m one of them. Anyway, I only get called every other week or so, but that’s fine with me.” 
“May I come with next time you go on a call?”
“Oftentimes it’s in the middle of the night, Kev.”
“I think it’ll fit in my schedule, Grampa. Maybe you could show me what to do, and I’ll help you.”
“I bet you could. Okay, but no complaining when I roust you out of a deep sleep when you’re dreaming about that lovely Bonnie McGee.”
“You know about Bonnie?”
“I know what I saw on that news clip from the TV station, Kev. That commentator guy might have been tasteless, but that kiss was not. That was one passionate kiss. In fact, your grandmother has been wondering what she should wear to the wedding.”
Kevin couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking, but whatever it was he seemed to be doing it in the spirit of fun. “We’re only fourteen, Grampa.” 
He cocked one eyebrow, looked at him with amusement and said, “That doesn’t sound like much of a denial to me. Come on. Let’s get on with the tour or we’ll be late for supper.”
They went through another doorway to an adjoining room, the largest in the building. Grandpa turned on more lights, but the room also had natural lighting from high windows. It looked to be a garage work area. A long workbench took up much of one wall, with cupboards above wherever tools weren’t hanging from hooks in pegboard. At the end of the last cupboard was a door to another room within the room. 
A car hoist took up more space nearby, and then he noticed a large garage door that opened toward the rear of the building. Against the far wall to the left of a partition looked to be a storage area. It wasn’t as well lit and had lots of equipment he couldn’t identify, as well as big, strong-looking shelves against the wall. He recognized a few as engines, but couldn’t tell what else was there. And there were tarps covering a few other objects, perhaps cars. 
“This is the main work and storage area. It doesn’t get much use these days, but this used to be where we took good parts off and stocked them before getting rid of the cars that were too bent up to be used for anything but scrap metal. Let’s go out back and I’ll show you the old yard and impound lot. Then we’ll need to head back. We’ll return tomorrow and I’ll show you a surprise.” 
“What is it?” Kevin asked wide-eyed. 
Grandpa looked at him, feigning astonishment, and said, “It’s a surprise.” 

Chapter Ten
Dear Bonnie,
Arrived at my grandmother Keely’s and grandfather Don’s house today and have so many things to tell you that I don’t know where I should begin. First of all, don’t feel too bad about your mother being weird because my parents have her beat, especially my dad. I can’t even tell you all that happened at our family meeting. It’s just too embarrassing. Maybe sometime when I work up the nerve. I can’t figure out how I used to think they were normal. 
Anyway, my grandparents are really nice, and really smart. How smart you ask? I’ll tell you: they know about us. Grandfather said they saw us while watching a download from the TV news broadcast. I guess I’ll have to be honest and give my dad some credit since he’s the one who sent it to them. My grandfather is a retired Harley-Davidson engineer, and Grandmother is a retired teacher. Get this, Bonnie: a retired art teacher. Once a week she drives to Madison to meet with old friends for lunch, and some kind of meeting after. I sense opportunities for us. 
My grandfather still runs one of the old family businesses, kind of part time. It’s called Tchaikovsky (like the composer) Towing & Salvage and has been in business for over seventy-five years. He doesn’t work much because he doesn’t want to, but he said I can go with him and help on his next wrecker call. This whole place is really cool, and Grandfather says he has a surprise for me tomorrow. I hope you get this before you move, and won’t be off-line for long because I really miss you. 
Love,
Kevin
P.S.  The telephone number here is: 608 776-2283. My grandparents said I can call you anytime (I explained the problem with that) and you can call here whenever you want, but I might be elsewhere on the property doing stuff. 
Kevin was in the study while his grandparents were in the kitchen cleaning up after supper. He offered to help, but they must have sensed how anxious he was to contact Bonnie. After sending her email, he sat waiting for a response. Hopefully, he would get one before going to bed. He wrote an email to Brian, and then stood up and looked at the book shelves. One section was labeled “Photo Albums.” Each album had a year or year range shown, and he picked one labeled “1904–1914” and brought it back to the desk. 
The first page contained four pictures with writing beneath each. The first showed a boy about his age with dark hair. Alongside him was a man wearing a suit and hat, smoking a pipe. They were in front of a really old car, probably what they used to call “horseless carriages.” Underneath was written, “Alex posing with Mr. Briscoe at Maxwell-Briscoe in Tarrytown, NY. Worked as a janitor and mechanic’s helper after school from 1904 until fire destroyed the factory in 1907. Secretly lived at the plant from late 1906 after Aunt Galina died.” 
The next one over showed Alex, appearing older, wearing coveralls and looking up from working on a partially assembled car. The car was a slight progression from the previous one, and the caption underneath said, “Alex in 1908 at Crane-Simplex in New Brunswick, NJ. Worked there from 1907–1909 as a mechanic and production worker.” 
Kevin suspected Alex was about his age in the first picture. Imagine that: being all alone and living in a factory on the sly while still going to school. He wondered if he was resourceful enough to do something like that. He doubted it, and was filled with admiration for his great-great-grandfather. He looked down at the lower picture in the left column and saw a more mature Alex sitting in the passenger seat of an old roadster. Another man was in the driver’s seat and both had goggles on top of their heads. The explanation beneath said, “Alex as riding mechanic with driver Hughie Hughes during practice session for the 1912 Indy 500. Started Mercer as a mechanic in 1909, and later became a race car builder, and then a riding mechanic until 1914.” 
He Googled “Riding Mechanic Duties” and learned that they not only rode along, but worked on the cars before races. During the race they often operated manual fuel and oil pumps while trying to prevent themselves from being thrown overboard. There were no seatbelts. Then they had to monitor tire wear and perform the duties of the modern day NASCAR spotter, hand signaling and shouting information to the driver over the roar of the engines and the wind. 
Back to the album: The last picture on the page was Alex with a woman. Kevin looked closer and recognized her as the same but younger woman he was standing beside in front of the tow truck in the picture on the wall of the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage office. The photograph was black and white, but he could see that Great-great-grandmother Maria was a voluptuous and glowing beauty. Alex appeared to be a good-natured young man in all the previous shots, but in this one he was different, somehow more of a man. Of course he was older and more mature. Underneath it read, “Alex and Maria after their honeymoon in 1913.” 
The entire album was 1904–1914, and the first page touched on almost all of that. He was about to turn the page when he looked up at the computer monitor and saw that he had mail. It was from Bonnie. His heartbeat instantly rose and he moved the curser up and clicked. 
Dear Kev,
Things are really crazy around here, although Mom pretty much wrote you off since we’re moving. She thinks we’ll never see each other again. So far she’s clueless, even though I told my dad we aren’t giving up. He’s probably afraid if he tells her, she’ll go off the deep end again. These days most of her wrath is focused on the moving company people. 
Sorry to hear your folks are weird, too, but happy that your grandparents don’t seem to be. Speaking of your grandparents, did you find out how old (or young) they were when they got married? I’m dying to find out. For some reason I have a feeling it will be totally outrageous. At least I’m hoping so. It could be an inspiration. 
The movers are cleaning the house out on Monday, and we’ll be hitting the road and staying at the Edgewater Hotel in Madison for two days since my mom refuses to stay at our new house in Mount Horeb until everything is just so. The news about your grandmother going to Madison every week sounds really good, as I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you. You can continue writing every day if you want, but it’d probably be a waste of time since I most likely won’t see any of your emails until sometime on Wednesday. See you soon.
Love,
Bonnie
Kevin leaned back in the chair and soaked it all in, and then looked down at the photo album and turned the page. Someone must have given the Tchaikovskys a camera for a wedding present. The next two pages were pictures of Maria and Alex. There were pictures of their first apartment together, both inside and outside of the building. Outside photos showed lots of old cars and people in the background. The cars looked to be Model T vintage. All the women were wearing dresses, and many of the men were wearing suits. Alex was wearing a suit in the outdoor shots, and looked as if he might have taken off the suit coat when in their apartment. 
He turned the page and the first picture was one of Maria standing at an angle to the camera. She was smiling bashfully, and very pregnant. The description said, “My lovely Maria three days before Alice was born – February 1914.” 
The rest of the pictures on those two pages were of Maria holding a baby. Maria held little Alice so she wouldn’t be directly facing the camera, probably so the child wouldn’t be exposed to the harsh flash bulbs of the day. The proud father was most likely the photographer. 
Kevin had another email: 
Kev,
Just got your email. Sorry we didn’t have much time together last week. Mom and I have been really busy. And then, between exams, I had to go before some judge who asked me who I wanted to live with. I wish you and your folks would have been one of the choices. Ha, ha. No, the choice was easy, even though Mom feels the need to get out of Rochester and away from Dr. Horn-dog. She already got a really good job offer in Minneapolis, so that’s where we’ll be living. She says you’re welcome to visit. 
I don’t know if I actually said it, but I’m really proud of you for rescuing that kid. If you were a little older, I bet you’d have lots of job offers because of your notoriety. You’d probably get lots of other offers from girls, too, but you’d probably turn them down in favor of Bonnie. That’d be the smart choice. I heard she’s moving, but I bet you are already plotting how to deal with it. The word is that you two are hot. My email address will stay the same, and I’ll give you our new telephone number when we get one. Keep in touch.
Brian
Kevin looked down and turned the page. The book was back to cars again. It was 1914 and Alex was in the Mercer race car fabrication shop, working on one of their Indy 500 entries. There were other shots at the Indianapolis 500 race track. One was in the pits, with Alex working under the hood of car number 19. It said, since he was now a father, Maria retired him from duty as a riding mechanic. Both Mercer entries suffered engine failure and finished seventeenth and nineteenth. Later that season at a race track in Elgin, Illinois, the driver and riding mechanic of number 19 were killed in a terrible wreck, and soon after Mercer quit their racing program. Alexander was out of work, but not for long as a representative from Duesenberg came calling. 
Kevin looked up and saw his grandfather approaching. He sat in a chair alongside the desk and said, “I’m putting your grandmother to bed, Kev. It’s been a long and emotionally exhausting day for her.”
“Is she okay, Grampa?”
He smiled and said, “Yeah, sure. She’s just tired. We aren’t getting any younger.”
Kevin looked at his watch and couldn’t believe it was almost nine. “I suppose you’re getting tired, too, huh, Grampa?”
“I really don’t sleep as well as I used to. But Keely sleeps better if I’m there, so I have a little light I can use for reading without disturbing her. You can stay up as long as you want, but I recommend you get to bed by around ten or you’ll be grumpy when I wake you at seven o’clock in the morning.”
“Seven o’clock?”
“Yeah, and remember: we could get a wrecker call in the middle of the night, too. I think I’m about due, and it is Saturday night.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Lot’s of drunks out. Either way, I’ll wake you at seven so you can shower and get dressed by seven-thirty. Then I’ll show you the surprise, and we’ll come back to the house for breakfast and talk it over. Wear nice clothes; we’re going to church afterwards.”
Kevin remembered that Bonnie goes to church, and thought going with his grandparents might be a good way of getting use to it. He would mention it in his next email to her. She’d probably like that. Grandpa looked down at the desk. “I hope you don’t mind that I was looking at this photo album, Grampa.”
“You’re welcome, make that encouraged, to look at any and all of this stuff. There’s lots of history on these shelves, including the album I was keeping from your father when I thought he was too young to deal with it.” 

Chapter Eleven
The light switched on. “We got a call, Kev,” his grandfather said. “Still want to go?” 
Kevin didn’t even bother looking at the clock, he just answered, “Sure, Grampa, I’ll be right there.”
“I’ll get the tow truck and pick you up. Make sure the lock is set on the door when you close it,” he said and left. 
A couple minutes after Kevin looked out the kitchen door, his grandfather pulled up in the truck. He checked the door after closing it to make sure it was locked, and ran down to him. Kevin was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, and at the last minute had thrown on his denim jacket. It was a little cool so he was glad he did. He got in and buckled his seat belt as his grandfather put the truck in gear and let the clutch out. Pretty soon they were humming down the blacktop in fifth gear with the high beams on. Kevin looked at the clock on the face of the dash-mounted radio and saw that it was 2:07 a.m., and wondered what their mission was. 
After awhile Grandpa said, “The sheriff’s office called us to tow a car to the impound lot. Some guy ‘suspected’ of driving under the influence. They always say stuff like ‘suspected’  or ‘alleged,’ even though they’re arresting and hauling him in, and we take the car away to the impound lot. Even if the guy fights the charges and wins, we get paid or he doesn’t get his car back.”
“Does that happen much? I mean them fighting the charges and winning?”
“No,” Grandpa replied, “I’ve never heard of one.” 
“How is Gramma? Did she get any sleep?”
“Yes, she did, Kev. But I’ll bet she’ll be wide awake until we get home.”
“How far do we have to go,” he asked just as they rounded a bend and saw emergency flashers up ahead. “I guess that answers my question,” he added. 
Grandpa approached the police car, doused the headlights but left the parking lights on, turned on the emergency flashers, and pulled to the side of the road behind the squad car. “Stay here for a minute,” he said. He set the parking brake, got out, and approached the police car. 
The flashing lights illuminated brush and trees on both sides off the road. A policeman got out and talked to Grandpa briefly. 
Then Grandpa came back and got behind the wheel. “Tonight we get to tow something fancy,” he said as he pulled around the police car and in front of a new-looking Corvette. After positioning the truck, he said, “Let’s get out. Put the wheel chocks in place, like I showed you, and come over to me when you’re done.”
Grandpa had shown him what to do after his tour of the grounds and before supper yesterday. The sheriff’s deputy stood nearby while Grandpa lowered the rollback flatbed into place. The guy locked in the back of the police car screamed, “One scratch on that car and you’re dead! Dead! You hear me? I’ll kill you!”
“The officer said, “I’ll be right back.” He went to his car, zipped up the driver’s window, and shut the door. 
It was a good thing Grandpa had his coveralls on, because he was on the ground shining a flashlight under the front end of the low-slung car. “Come here, Kev, I want to show you something.”
Soon he was in the dirt on the shoulder of the road, too. Grandpa pointed out where he was going to attach the two hooks to pull the car onto the flatbed. That done, they went back to the truck. There was a remote control box attached to something on the truck by an electrical cord, and Grandpa pushed a button to winch it up and take the slack out of the cable. Once that was done, Grandpa went to the Corvette and opened the driver’s door, moved the shifter into neutral. He winched the car up and, once in place, strapped the wheels down. Then he moved a lever and the flatbed rose into position on the truck. He had the officer sign something on a clipboard, he signed something for the officer, and they were on their way home. 
They rode along in silence until Kevin said, “That guy sure was mad, Grampa. Did you hear what he was saying?”
“Typical drunk talk, plus he’s having a bad day. He just got arrested and we’re hauling his $75,000 baby away. We’ll take good care of it, though, and he’ll cool off.”
“I hope so. What happens now? How does he get it back?”
“First he has to get out of jail, and then after he pays us he gets his car back.”
“How much will it cost him?”
“I charge one-hundred just to pick it up, plus a dollar a mile each way. On top of that, storage is ten bucks a day.”
“Cash?”
“Cash or credit card. If he wants to pay by check he has to meet me at the bank, and they have to make sure it clears before I’ll release the car. For that trip I charge fifty cents a mile on top of everything else. Most pay by credit card. Sometimes the ones paying by check think they’re going to stiff me by writing a bad one or cancelling it after the fact. That’s why I’m so careful about having the bank cash it electronically with his bank first.”
“What if the bank isn’t open?”
“Too bad,” Grandpa said. “No money, no car.”
They drove around the back of the building and Grandpa took out his keys, grabbed one and pointed it out to him, and told him to hop out and unlock the chain-link gate of the impound lot. He did, then swung the gate open and held it. Once inside, they unloaded the car. Grandpa locked its doors and pocketed the keys, then moved the truck out while Kevin relocked the gate. After going to the front of the building and putting the truck away, Grandpa wrote down the mileage from the odometer, set the clipboard and the car keys on a desk in the office, and they walked to the house. 
Once in the kitchen he looked at the clock. It was almost four. 
“Try and catch a little more sleep, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Okay, Grampa. Thanks for letting me come with.”
“Thank you for helping, Kev. I might have to put you on the payroll.” 
Kevin didn’t think he’d get back to sleep, but at seven his grandfather rapped on his door, reached in and turned on the light, and he woke up. At seven-thirty he was showered, teeth brushed, and wearing the nicest clothes he had with as he entered the kitchen. Grandpa was sitting at the table drinking coffee. He set it down and said, “Ready to see the surprise?”
Just then Grandma stepped into the room, looking wide awake and fresh as could be. “Good morning, Kevin. I heard you and your grandfather had quite a night. Are you tired?”
“I’m fine, Gramma.”
“That’s good, dear. You two hurry back, and I’ll have breakfast ready for us. How long do you think you’ll be, Donny?”
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes.”
Grandma smiled and nodded. Grandpa got up, put on a jacket, and they left for the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage building. Entering through the small access door, they made their way back to the workshop and storage area, Grandpa flicking on lights all the way. They hadn’t actually stepped into the storage area during his tour yesterday, but that was where they ended up. Grandpa turned on more lights, walked over to one of the tarp-covered objects and asked, “Are you ready?” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed one side of the tarp, threw it over to the other, and it fell to the floor. 
It was some sort of antique, open-cockpit race car that looked as if it had been buried under a haystack in some old barn. It had rusty wire-spoke wheels with remnants of tires that must have rotted off years ago. Kevin was surprised, all right, but had no idea what he was supposed to think of it. “It’s an old race car, right?”
“It’s way more than just an old race car, Kev. This is a 1927 Miller, same as the one my father drove in the 1927 Indianapolis 500. It was called the Baby Grand, and was prepared by Paul’s crew chief and future father-in-law, Alexander Tchaikovsky.” 
Grandpa was beaming, and Kevin was stunned. He walked around what, seconds before, he thought was a worthless old heap. “Your father,” he asked, “my great-grandfather, actually drove a car like this in the Indy 500?”
“Twice,” Grandpa said with a smile. “Tons of other races, too.”
“Why Baby Grand?” Kevin asked in reference to the unusual name. 
“You mean why was it named that?” His grandfather didn’t wait for an answer as he continued, “All I know is that that’s what Al Capone wanted. And after all, he owned it.” 
“Does it have an engine?” 
“The one in it has a big hole in the block,” Grandpa explained. “Something inside must have broken at high speed, so it’s junk. But I have an engine that I bought and rebuilt years ago. I ran across it at an estate sale and had to have it. And since I had it I had to fix it up even though I never thought I’d find a car to put it in.”
“How big is the engine?”
“It’s a twin-cam straight-eight. They only displaced ninety-one cubic inches, but were supercharged.”
“Isn’t ninety-one cubic inches small, Grampa?”
“Yeah, my motorcycle is eighty-eight, Kev.” 
“Why didn’t they make them bigger?”
“The cubic inch limit for Indy cars from 1926–29 was 91.5.”
“Could they still go fast?”
“Over a hundred and fifty on the straightaways,” Grandpa said proudly. 
Kevin looked it over again, this time with respect, and wondered how terrifying it’d be to do such a thing. “What do you plan on doing with it?” He gestured toward the car. 
“I’m hoping you’ll help me restore it.”
“Me? What do I know how to do?”
“You’ll be surprised what you can do. It’d also be a big help if you could mow the lawn so I can keep up with the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage stuff. Maybe you can help with some of that, too, but we’ll have plenty of time to work on the racer. You might learn a few things in the process, but what could be so bad about that?”
“What could I do for Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage?”
“I started working here when I was your age. I needed money for something special, so my grandfather hired me to take parts off cars and keep the place clean. You could do the same, and more. I sell parts almost exclusively on the internet now.” 
“What parts?”
“Any cars that aren’t claimed after sixty days become mine. I have to file a little paperwork, but it’s pretty straightforward. Some of those vehicles in the impound area belong to me right now.”
“You think the Corvette will?”
Grandpa laughed and replied, “Highly doubtful, but I like the way you think. Sometimes I make out all right on stuff that isn’t claimed, though, and sometimes I buy other wrecks from insurance companies and part them out.” 
“What will you do with the race car after it’s all fixed-up?”
“I’ll tell you all about it at breakfast. You want in, Kev? Would you like to work for me?”
“How could I refuse, Grampa?”
Grandpa smiled and motioned for them to go. 

Chapter Twelve
When they walked into the kitchen, Grandpa nodded at Grandma and she smiled, no doubt knowing—without a word being said—that Kevin was onboard. Then she ordered them to wash their hands and sit down. Kevin started asking questions, but was told it was time to eat and they never talked with their mouths full. He was hungry, and the scrambled eggs, bacon, and blueberry muffins were hot, so he willingly complied and ate quickly. Soon Grandpa was finished eating. When he was on his second cup of coffee, he cleared his throat. 
The time had come. 
“Here’s the plan, Kev: We’re going to turn that old Miller into a fully functioning replica, make that duplicate, of the Baby Grand. It’ll be a tribute, a memorial, to my father, your great-grandfather.”
“When did you decide you wanted me to be part of this, Grampa?”
“As soon as we found out we had a grandson. Then, after the private detective gave us a picture of you, well, we just couldn’t believe it.” 
“What do you mean?” Kevin asked, remembering what his dad had said, but wanting confirmation. 
“You make your way through those old photo albums and you’ll see. We’ve got lots to talk about, Kev. We need to make up for being out of your life for fourteen years.”
“When did you buy the old racer?”
“A few months before your grandmother pretended to be a patient and made that appointment with your mother. I found it so easily that I took it as a sign.”
“So you bought it thinking things would work out?”
“We had faith, Kev. Speaking of faith, we better get ready to head out to church. The detective told us you and your folks didn’t attend church, but we’d really like if you’d come with us.”
“Bonnie goes to church, so I think I should, too.” 
His grandparents exchanged a warm smile, and his grandmother said, “I can hardly wait to meet her, Kevin.”
“I can hardly wait for her to meet both of you. I know you’ll like her, and you’ll really like what she does, Gramma. She’s a real artist. Mom told us that you were an art teacher, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate her work. I just love it.” 
“It’s too bad she’s moving so far away from Rochester,” she said, seeming sad, probably thinking that he and Bonnie would never survive as a couple. 
During that week, Bonnie and her family would be settling in. He would have to work on his grandparents in order to get together with her the following week. He needed to make sure Grandpa was okay without his help on Wednesdays, and convince Grandma to give him a ride to Mount Horeb. 
They were taking his grandmother’s car to church, and Grandpa went out first to get it out of the garage while he and Grandma locked up. When Kevin turned around to step off the porch, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Grandpa was sitting behind the wheel of a bright yellow Mustang GT. 
“I hope you don’t mind sitting in the back seat?” Grandma said to him. “You should be nimble enough to fit without too much trouble.” She opened the passenger door and moved the seatback forward, held it while he climbed in. After they were buckled in, Grandpa moved the floor-mounted gear selector into “D” and took off. 
The only thing better would be if it had a manual transmission. “This is your car, Gramma?” 
She chuckled and said, “Three years ago your grandfather bought it for my seventieth birthday. Sometimes I wonder who he really bought it for,” she added with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. She had lovely green eyes, very similar to Bonnie’s. 
“Don’t you believe it, Kevin. The only time Keely lets me drive her car is when it needs gas.” They both laughed. “The truth is, your grandmother fell in love with Mustangs back in 1964, but we were saving for your father’s college fund and she didn’t think we should splurge. I forgot all about it until I saw the way she looked at a new one when the latest design came out. I figured it was now or never. And besides, what better present could a girl get for her seventieth birthday?” 
Grandma chuckled as Grandpa accelerated slightly, causing the V-8 engine to produce a pleasant rumble. 
The closest thing to a church service Kevin had ever attended was when they had special assemblies at the Catholic school. This Lutheran church seemed to have a little less pomp and circumstance, but some things seemed familiar. At one point the minister said, “At this time we’d like to introduce guests, and I’ve already been clued-in that we have a young hero from Rochester, Minnesota here today. Don? Would you please make the introduction?”
Kevin’s grandparents stood, and Grandpa motioned for him to do the same. “Keely and I have the pleasure of having our grandson, Kevin Johnson, stay with us for awhile this summer.” 
There was massive applause. Kevin felt self-conscious but looked around, not wanting to seem ungrateful for their attention, when the soft-brown eyes of a stunning brunette locked onto his. A girl, no, a woman vastly superior to any he has ever seen. The quintessential woman that knights faced legendary fire-breathing dragons for, which reminded him what an inadequate little boy he really was, reminded him that he was in love with a girl who was also beyond him, reminded him to breathe before his heart burst. Yet he couldn’t look away. The bewitching draw of her eyes was so strong that he only saw her face, but somehow he knew it was impossible for the rest of her not to be just as perfect. He felt stirrings he had no business feeling, and thought of Bonnie to assuage his guilt. The guilt stayed, but the enchanter’s hold diminished enough so he was able to break away. 
“About two weeks ago,” the preacher went on, “Kevin saved the life of a two-year old boy by snatching him from the path of a speeding tractor-trailer rig. He ran right at the huge machine while it advanced, facing the deadly monster, not unlike David facing off with Goliath. Let’s give him a warm welcome.” 
Once again the congregation applauded, only this time it was thunderous. Kevin supposed he should have been proud, but he felt embarrassed. And then there was that raven-haired beauty making him feel guilty for noticing her. After the service, he was visited by the preacher and well-wishers until his grandfather rescued him by saying they had to get going. 
After they climbed in the Mustang and took off, his grandmother said, “Oh, Kevin, I forgot to tell you that we’re going to my brother’s house for dinner. He and his wife have their daughter and granddaughter there, too. I hope that’s all right with you?”
“Sure, Gramma.” 
They seemed to be driving all the way back to their house, and as they got even closer he asked, “I thought we were going to your brother’s house for dinner, Gramma.” 
“We are, dear. They live right next door. Of course right next door is a little way from our property, but they live in the next house down the road from us. The house I grew up in. My brother and Donny were, and still are, best friends.”
“No, Love,” Grandpa said to her, “you took over that title long ago.” Then they reached over and held hands until he put on the turn signal. 
After they got out of the car and walked to the old but well-maintained house, the door opened before they even climbed the steps of the porch. A weathered old man with lively eyes similar to his grandmother’s looked at them. Kevin had seen him talking with his grandparents at church. He welcomed them, invited them inside, and stepped up to Kevin with an outreached hand. “Welcome, Kevin. I’m Peter Collins, and this is my wife Andrea.” 
Peter Collins’s deep, smooth voice surprised him as it resonated with a subdued power and a hint of authority, as did his strong, warm handshake. Then he remembered what his grandfather said about Grandma Keely’s brother retiring from the Navy as some sort of Chief Petty Officer. His wife Andrea had a nice face and short but pretty black hair. He figured it must be either a wig or a good dye job. After a little thought, he decided that Peter was his great-uncle, which would make Andrea his great-aunt. Then he saw another woman. 
“This is my daughter, Mandy Chantelle,” Mr. Collins, Great-uncle Peter, said. 
Kevin guessed she was a few years younger than his parents. She smiled the way people do when they’re not really happy but are trying to make you think they are. Her eyes seemed sunken into her thin face. She didn’t look anorexic, but her skin seemed too big for her as if she’d been sick and had dropped weight. Her coloring was bad, too, and her gray-streaked hair looked dry and lifeless. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Chantelle,” he said. 
“I believe I’m your first cousin, once removed. Just call me Mandy, Kevin. And it’s nice to meet you, too.” 
She might not be truly happy, but she sure was trying to be nice. 
Piano music reminded him that another person was there, too. 
“Why don’t you go in the other room and introduce yourself to Desiree, my granddaughter?” Great-uncle Peter said to him. 
Kevin followed the sound of music through an archway and stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed under the gaze of the dark-haired goddess from church. She was seated at the upright piano against the adjacent wall. Her eyes drew his with an unexplainable, overpowering force. He couldn’t tell if she stopped at the end of the song or just at a convenient spot, but she did and gave him a knowing closed-lip smile that seemed to taunt, “I’m glad you’re mesmerized with me.” 
She stood, further startling him. “Hello, Kevin, I’m Desiree. Congratulations on becoming a hero. There aren’t many true ones in the world, and doing it at our age is amazing. Would you like to sit down?” She smiled, showing teeth as perfect as real teeth could be. 
At our age? She had to be twenty, a mature twenty at that. He was astounded. Finally, shaking off his stupor so she didn’t think he was an idiot, he replied, “Yeah, ah, that would be nice. Look, Desiree, about us being the same age: I’ll be fifteen this July.” 
“I’m only a couple months behind,” she countered. “So, do you play?”
“Huh?”
Desiree laughed. “The piano,” she said. “Do you play?” 
“No, I’m not very musically inclined.” 
She smiled. “In that case, how about we forget about performing a duet and sit on the couch?”
Mention of playing a duet reminded him of his amorous, sparkling-eyed parents on the bench of their baby grand, and what he knew they did after. Then he wondered if this woman did such things with her boyfriend. Even if she hadn’t been joking about her age, she had to have one. He was probably the star quarterback of a Big Ten team; perhaps Madison. Kevin pictured himself with Bonnie, and pondered whether he had the nerve to take off his clothes—all of his clothes—in front of her yet. His anxiety made him realize what a child he was, and he felt puny in the company of Desiree. 
They walked across the room to the sofa and he waited for her to sit, and then he sat at the other end. She casually turned, almost sideways, and placed an arm on top of the sofa’s back. He faced her but left his rear planted right where it was. His hands were folded in his lap, perhaps protecting his genitals from her aura. He actually found her that intimidating, but had trouble looking away. Her dark eyebrows above soft brown eyes complemented the rest of her face perfectly, inviting, demanding his eyes to meet hers. Deciding to show some initiative, he said, “You’re very good. Have you been playing the piano long?” 
“Thank you. Yes, I’ve been taking lessons since the age of five. 
“What occupies your time when you aren’t saving lives?” her exquisite, seductive voice said, passing between sensuous, flawlessly glossed lips as she smoothly changed the subject. 
He wanted to say, “My girlfriend Bonnie occupies much of my time and all of my thoughts.” That’s what he wanted to say. That’s what he knew he should say, but what he said was, “My grandfather and I are going to restore an old race car.”
“How interesting. Could I see it later?” 
“It isn’t much to look at now, Desiree.”
“It would be nice to see it before and after,” she insisted. “How long will the restoral take, Kevin?”
“I think my grandfather plans on having it done before I go home, which should be in about two months.” 
“What a coincidence; I’ll probably be here all summer. Perhaps I’ll stop over once in awhile and check on your progress. I practice the piano two hours a day, but I bet your grandfather won’t make you work day and night. Maybe we can … do something together.”
He felt a trickle of sweat rolling down the middle of his back, and knew Bonnie wouldn’t want them spending time together. “My grandfather also asked me to help at Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage,” he quickly ad-libbed, “so I might be pretty busy.” He should have added that he intended to visit his beautiful girlfriend once a week, but somehow didn’t. 
“Kids,” Mrs. Collins, his great-aunt Andrea, poked her head into the room and said. “It’s time for dinner.”
They got off the couch and went to the dining room, sat at the two remaining chairs right next to each other. Kevin knew they had to be some kind of cousins, but got the feeling Bonnie wouldn’t be pleased with the arrangement. He felt remorse even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. 
Desiree’s grandfather, his newly discovered great-uncle Peter Collins, said grace, and soon serving dishes were passed around. Kevin thought Desiree moved extra close when she handed him things. He managed to break eye contact during those moments, only long enough to see her perfectly painted red fingernails, and wondered if she could sense the heat he was feeling. He looked to see if the others seemed uncomfortable. They didn’t. It wasn’t the room temperature, it was him and he feared that Desiree knew it, that perhaps it amused her. 
“You two seem to get along well,” Desiree’s grandfather said, looking at them. “That’s good. You won’t have to hang around with only us old farts all the time.”
“Yeah,” Desiree’s grandmother said, “It’ll be nice having a cousin to play with this summer, huh, Desiree?”
The thought of “playing” with Desiree made Kevin feel very … uneasy. He should only be thinking of Bonnie, not the raving beauty beside him—a cousin that wouldn’t touch a dweeb like him even if they weren’t blood relatives. 
“I believe we’re second cousins, Gramma,” Desiree clarified. Then she gave Kevin a glance that literally took his breath away. He had to get a grip. 
“I wonder if that’s what they mean by ‘kissing cousins?’” Great-aunt Andrea asked nobody in particular. “Don’t you suppose that’s just a polite way of saying it’s safe for them to have—” 
“Andrea!” Great-uncle Peter interrupted, stopping her from saying more. 
Kevin felt his face redden, and didn’t dare look at anyone. 

Chapter Thirteen
After dinner and dessert, the women, including Desiree, took care of cleanup and kitchen duties while Kevin hung-out with the grandfathers in the living room. “Are we going to start on the racer today, Grampa?” he asked hopefully.
“We avoid unnecessary work on the Lord’s Day, Kev. We can talk about it and make plans for tomorrow, later this evening. But now, why don’t we just enjoy the company of our relatives?”
The thought of enjoying his relatives brought Desiree to mind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what else Great-aunt Andrea was going to say before her husband stopped her. Next time he was online he’d make sure that second cousins “getting together” was a bad, evil thing. Maybe confirming that it was taboo would put him at ease. Putting him back on edge, though, Desiree came into the room wearing white denim capris and a red halter top. Kevin was no women’s fashion expert, but has thumbed through enough of his mother’s catalogs to know a few things. Before, Desiree’s hair had been pinned up in back, but now it flowed below her shoulders, letting him see only a hint of her silver earrings. 
“Gramma kicked me out of the kitchen, told me to change out of my good clothes and see if you’d like to go for a walk. Could I show you around, Kevin?”
“I should probably change for that, but my things are back at my grandparents’ house. Sorry, Desiree.”
“No, that’s okay, Kev,” Grandpa interjected. “Desiree can show you the shortcut to our house so you can change and continue on. I’m sure if you’re careful you’ll make it home without scuffing your shoes or getting dirty.” 
Desiree gave Kevin a “See, no problem” look. He got up, and she led the way outside. “I hope you don’t mind?” she said almost apologetically. “When Gramma suggested it I didn’t even think. Sorry.”
Desiree had lost some of her mature quality now that she was in casual clothes, but she hadn’t lost the ability to fascinate him with her beauty and her charms. In fact, it had gotten worse. He hadn’t walked behind her before, but after they reached the path through the woods he was forced to. And her behind was perfect: more abundant, making her less girlish and more womanly than Bonnie, accentuating her allure. Then there was her skin. Her capris weren’t low hip-huggers, but there was plenty of exposed flesh tapering to her slender waist and then all the way up to the ribbon of fabric interruption where her top tied in the middle of her back. Her luscious black hair swished and swayed, occasionally exposing the tiny bit of fabric around the back of her neck that held her top up. Otherwise, her back was bare. 
Below, no belt held her pants up. With hips like hers she had no worries about them sliding down. She did, however, have something belted loosely around that hung down, reminiscent of a Wild West gunslinger’s belt only slimmer, daintier. It also could never slide past those hips. Even though he had no intention of making a move on his second cousin, he felt like a cheater for noticing her attributes. Of course he’d have to be blind not to. 
When they got to a small clearing she said, “How are you doing back there, Kev?” Then she suddenly stopped and turned. 
He almost ran into her, and they were face-to-face. She was as tall as he was—not that that was tall—maybe a smidgen more. Great, he thought, another thing to unnerve me.  Desiree had a hand on his arm; otherwise their noses would have bumped together. Finally he answered, “I’m fine.” 
“That is yet to be seen,” she said mischievously. “I wish you knew the way so I could check out your butt.” 
She somehow must have been able to read his thoughts. He was embarrassed, sure that his face was redder than her top. 
She laughed. “You’re too nice, Kev. At least I know you’re normal, unlike my dad.” She grabbed his hand and continued leading the way. 
They crossed an arched wooden bridge over a stream, and shortly after branched off the main trail and headed past some bushes into a small clearing. There was a natural pool at a wide point in the stream. It looked deep and wide except for the stream itself on either end. The clearing was surrounded by brush, making it private, welcoming. Three narrow posts, probably some sort of hardwood, stuck out of the ground between the shrubbery and the stream. And there was a really old-looking wooden bench on the only patch of ground that sunlight managed to shine through. 
“This is where our grandfathers used to escape the summer heat by skinny-dipping,” she said like a tour guide. 
“What?”
“They’d strip, hang their clothes on these posts, and jump in. That is until they caught Great-auntie Keely spying on them.”
“What?”
Desiree laughed. “It’s true, I swear to God.” 
Kevin lowered his eyes and saw the most perfect navel ever, and then the black fanny pack she had belted around her that appeared to be made out of thin, soft leather. It wasn’t really a fanny pack on her, though, as she had it hanging centered below the beltline not far from the top of her legs. He found it oddly provocative. Looking further down he noticed her sandaled feet, also perfect, with toenails painted to match the color of her top. He felt as if his character had been tested, and he failed to live up to what Bonnie deserved. 
Desiree put her hands on the sides of his face and steered his head so he was looking at her. She was about a foot away, and her face took on a serious look as if she was about to explain something important to a child. He began feeling hot and stepped back, knowing Bonnie wouldn’t appreciate the situation. 
“Back in those days most people didn’t even go swimming, so swimming suits were rare. Adventurous young boys often found private swimming holes like this, and just took off their clothes and jumped in. It was no big deal. They usually peed in front of each other, for crying out loud. They weren’t perves like my dad, Kev.” 
“What?” He had more than one question but, curious as he was, there was no way he would ask what she meant when referring to her father as a pervert. 
“What don’t you understand, Kevin?”
“You said your great-aunt Keely, my grandmother, was spying on them?”
Desiree laughed. “Of course, silly. But she wasn’t trying to catch a peek at her brother, my grandfather, she was checking out your grandfather. It’s actually considered normal curiosity, Kev. Kids have been doing it forever, I bet. Besides, she was hot for him way back then.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet he sensed it was true. “How old were they?”
“My grandfather and yours were twelve, Keely was eleven.”
He was aghast. His grandmother, as a child, was peeking at naked boys. The most astonishing thing was that they ended up getting married. Kevin wondered if the whole world revolved around sex, or what? “What happened then, Desiree?”
“They wore their underwear.”
“What?”
“You know what underwear is, don’t you?” she asked, giving him a playful smile. 
“I mean,” he clarified, “didn’t her brother get mad at her?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, nodding. “But what could he do? Hitting girls was a no-no. He did threaten to snitch on her, and so she threatened to tell on him for stealing cigarettes if he did.” 
“Stealing cigarettes?”
“From his dad. He’d swipe a cigarette, bring it down here, and he and your grandfather would share it. Anyway, Great-auntie Keely wanted in on the swimming hole, with stipulations, and knew her brother would never do a sissy thing like tattling. Before long they were all down here, swimming in their underwear.”
“Smoking?” he asked.
Desiree shrugged. “Afterwards, they’d sit in the sun on that bench and dry off.” 
“How old do you think that bench is?”
“Really old.” She assured. “Probably old enough to be petrified. It’s made out of some kind of special wood.”
“Who told you all this stuff?”
“My grandmother. She says my grandfather told her everything, which is kind of sweet when you think about it.”
“Did she show you around here?”
“No, yours did after mine told me about it.”
“This is unbelievable.”
“Isn’t it? My grandmother had a small stroke a few years ago, and almost completely recovered.”
“Almost?”
“Yeah.” Desiree smiled another perfect smile. “Ever since, she’s been totally uninhibited. She’ll talk about anything,” she added deliciously. 
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you seem a bit uninhibited yourself.”
“It’s my defense mechanism,” she asserted. 
“Defense against what, Desiree?”
“After my mom and I walked in on my dad and his boyfriend ‘doing the nasty’ right in the open on top of her bed, Mom got me a psychologist. Some mean girls at school were giving me a hard time about my dad—how they found out, I haven’t a clue—so my psychologist helped me to deal with it. If I’m out in the open about everything, they can’t hurt me with snide remarks.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he declared, shaking his head. 
“I know,” she said understandingly, “but once I came out of my shell I just couldn’t crawl back in. I became stronger and stayed that way. While I went to two years of therapy, Mom went to a lawyer and the liquor store. She’s been a real boozer ever since. That’s why I’ve spent so much time out here, and that’s why I’ll be here for probably just as long as you will. Mom’s going in for treatment again, which is a good thing. I hope it works this time. So, now that you know all about my screwed-up parents, when do I get to hear about yours?”
“What makes you think mine are screwed-up?”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Nobody even knew you existed until about two years ago. I do know that your dad pretty much quit talking to your grandparents when he was our age. That’s like thirty-five years ago. You call that normal?”
“No. No, I don’t. I just wondered how you knew. There’s a whole bunch of disturbing things I found out recently, but I’m still trying to come to terms with them myself. Maybe I’ll feel like talking about it some other time. The good news is that my mom forced my dad to let me get to know my grandparents. And he actually apologized to them, too. Even sent a download of the news story about the incident I got involved in. At first he was so mad I thought I’d be lucky if he just forgot about it.”
“You saved a little boy’s life and he was angry?”
“Not about that. It was what I did after.”
“You mean the kiss?” she said seeming astonished and amused at the same time. 
“You know about that?”
“Of, course. Your grandfather emailed it to mine. You’re the new family legend, Kev. What’s the matter with your dad? Doesn’t he believe in kissing?” 
“My parents got in a huge fight about that. I think that news guy’s comments got to him, and then there was a rude phone call that he answered. I just can’t talk about it right now, okay?”
“Sure, Kev.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I just wanted to show you the old swimming hole. We better get going so you can change.” 
Desiree led the way back to the main trail and toward his grandparents’ house. He wondered if she went for dips in that pool, but was afraid to ask because she’d probably tell him and he didn’t want that image burned into his memory banks. Well, he did, but he couldn’t. Once they arrived at his grandparents’ place, she stayed in the kitchen while he changed into jeans and a T-shirt. 
Upon rejoining her he worked up his courage and asked, “What would you like to do now?”
She looked at him with her soft golden-brown eyes. She actually seemed connected to his soul and it was unnerving. She was a mixture of beauty, charm, and mischief. Finally she released her hold on him and said, “I’d really like to see that old race car, Kev.” 
He found the spare keys in the broom closet, and off they went. 
Once inside the building, he turned on the office lights and went behind the counter and to the side door out to the wrecker stall. He flipped on the lights there, and Desiree passed him up going to the door to the workshop area. As she turned the knob she glanced at him and said, “I’ve been here before, Kev. Figured it must be back here somewhere.” 
She seemed as anxious to see it as he had been. She turned on the lights in the shop area and entered with him right behind her. This time he was so close that his focus wasn’t on her backside. In fact, he felt that a temporary relief from her sensual powers had been granted to him. Relief until he caught a whiff of her hair. Then, seeing the workshop bare, she turned with a puzzled look. In reaction to the sight of her bare shoulders, he quickly moved around her, escaping her force field, and led the way into the storage area where he turned on the remaining lights. 
They approached the relic as if walking on hallowed ground, slowly circling. He had been so excited and bewildered the first time he saw it, that it was almost as if he was seeing it for the first time. Maybe better since he was showing it off. He looked at Desiree and could tell that she was mesmerized for a change. “We’re going to restore it into a running replica of the one my great-grandfather drove in the 1927 Indianapolis 500.”
“The Baby Grand,” she said, trancelike. It wasn’t a question. 
Kevin heard the door in the workshop area open. 
“Is anybody working in this dump?” somebody yelled. 
Kevin walked over into view of where the voice had come from, and saw a large man. As soon as the guy saw him, he advanced. “What kind of place is this?” The man’s face was red with anger. 
“We’re not really open for business today, sir,” Kevin told him. 
“I want my Corvette, and I want it now.”
“Let’s go back to the office, and I’ll try getting in touch with my grandfather.” 
“You better make it fast, boy.” 
Kevin held a hand out for Desiree to stay put, but she shook her head. He had a bad feeling about this as he walked toward the angry man. He had to. It was the way back to the office. He tried not looking him in the eye while passing, and walked quickly, hoping he wouldn’t follow too closely. He entered the office with the man hot on his heels, followed by Desiree who came right over to his side and said, “I’ll call, Kev.” 
“I don’t care who calls. Do it fast!”
“We’re working on it, sir. Please have a chair and—”
“Don’t you tell me what to do, you little shit.” 
The man grabbed him around the throat with one hand, not hard enough to cut his air supply or impede the flow of blood to his brain … yet. Everything in Kevin’s consciousness faded except the big man with large fingers wrapped around his throat, his other hand balled into a fist as he cocked his arm back. Kevin remembered his ranting from the back of the police car last night. His mind raced but everything else seemed to be in slow motion. The guy was way bigger than the bully who had tormented him at school, yet he remembered what Brian said he must do if ever picked on again. Too bad Brian wasn’t here to back him up. 
The man applied upward pressure as if he intended to lift him off the ground. He knew the guy was strong but doubted he could raise his hundred-and-twenty pound body with one outstretched arm. He was still trapped, though, and his arms were too short for his fists to reach him. He doubted his legs even could in that position. 
He grabbed the thick wrist attached to the hand holding him and swung both legs up with bent knees. His weight tilted the antagonist’s body forward, and Kevin’s head and upper body started dropping back. He kicked out using the entire strength of his legs, and at least one foot must have made a direct hit to the groin area. The hand instantly released him and its owner staggered back while Kevin dropped, breaking his fall by splaying his arms out and back. The man stumbled forward, fell to his knees with both hands holding his crotch. Kevin jumped up, lunged forward and slammed the heel of his right hand into the man’s nose, feeling and hearing something give way. The intruder fell backward with his knees still bent and his head slammed into a desk, which bounced against the wall. 
Kevin was pretty sure he was out cold, and he was making an awful gurgling noise. His nose was broken and bloody, and Kevin feared the guy might choke on his own blood and die, so he rolled him onto his stomach. Realizing the danger they’d be in when he came to, he yanked a lamp off the desk and used the cord to tie his wrists together with the lamp still attached. 
Kevin became conscious of his surroundings again and looked toward Desiree. She was standing with her mouth agape, and she had dropped the phone on the desk. He grabbed the lamp off that desk and rushed back, used its cord to tie the big man’s ankles together and then to his bound wrists. Looking back, he asked, “Is anybody on the way, Desiree?” 
She nodded, and her mouth began to tremble. 
He ran to the front door and looked outside. There was a car with someone in it, but they weren’t there to help. It was too soon for that. Whoever brought their attacker was out there, waiting. He slammed the door, locked it, and went back to Desiree. 
Pounding on the door began. 
Desiree screamed, and then cried hysterically. Kevin held her tight, hoping she’d realize he was protecting her, that she was safe. 
A fast-moving vehicle skidded to a halt on the gravel, and there was a siren in the distance. He heard his grandfather’s voice, but couldn’t hear what was being said. He didn’t know if he should go outside in case his grandfather needed help, or keep the door locked to make sure Desiree was safe. The voices outside got louder, but fortunately the siren did, too. He went over and opened the door in time to see a sheriff’s car racing up the driveway. The man arguing with his grandfather suddenly turned docile as a deputy rushed out of his car with gun in hand. 
“What’s the trouble, Don?”
“My grandson was here with Desiree,” he said, gesturing toward Kevin as he approached, “while we were over at Peter’s. She called, screaming that they were under attack. I raced over and found this guy trying to break in.”
“I locked the door on him,” Kevin said. “Figured he was with the other one; the attacker.”
“Hey,” the door banger said, stepping back—hands shoulder high, palms out—“I just gave him a ride so he could pick up his Vette.”
“Go lean over the fender of my car,” the deputy told him, “and put your hands on the hood.” Satisfied with the interloper’s compliance, the deputy turned to Kevin. “Is he still inside?”
“Yes, sir, and so is Desiree. We better go get her.” 
“You left her in there with him?” he said scornfully. 
“I tied him up first,” he assured. 
The deputy’s look changed to one of bewilderment. 

Chapter Fourteen
Kevin missed “The Monster Mile” NASCAR race at Dover, Delaware that afternoon. Their Sunday night planning session was postponed in favor of calming the family members, especially Desiree and her mother. Desiree lost some of her mystical hold on him, but he sensed she lost something else, too. He hoped he hadn’t frightened her too much, and did his best to be slow and deliberate in his movements. 
Grandpa contemplated getting a dog, as his grandfather had done during his reign at Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. Alexander believed all good junkyards needed a good dog. But what Grandpa instead did on Monday was put peepholes in the access doors and ordered them locked at all times. Mandy Chantelle went away for treatment, and the rest had dinner together that night. Desiree was somber. Kevin’s parents were far away, and he knew their future together was no longer carved in stone, but it seemed as if her mom had checked-out on her long ago.  
On Tuesday, Grandpa had intercoms and a security system installed. While that was going on, someone from the Madison newspaper called. It seemed they had gotten a hold of the details of the incident, and that a short time ago Kevin had saved a child’s life. While they hung on the line, Grandpa asked if it was okay for a reporter to interview him. Kevin told him only if he would be in the room, too. That afternoon, a reporter came out and talked to them. Desiree agreed to be there, but it was decided to keep her name out of it. The interview went all right, and the reporter said the story would be published in Wednesday’s edition. 
After breakfast on Wednesday, work on the 1927 Miller began. They used a large hydraulic jack and Grandpa’s John Deere lawn tractor to haul the old racer over to the workshop area. They took pictures of the racer from every angle, and then removed the body panels, laid them out almost as if they were orbiting the car, and took more pictures. 
At eleven o’clock the intercom came to life. “Hello? Kevin? Uncle Don?” 
Although Grandpa was Desiree’s great-uncle by marriage, calling him Great-uncle Don must have proven too cumbersome, so she had been calling him “Uncle Don” for years. 
“It’s Desiree. I’m at the back door to the workshop. Can I come in?” 
Kevin went to the door and let her in. She seemed apologetic, almost bashful when she said, “I hope I’m not bothering you guys. I just wanted to look at the racer … and maybe see if there’s anything I can do to help.” She was wearing a blue denim work shirt, old blue jeans with remnants of grass clippings at the bottom, and boots also stained with grass. Her hair was pinned up and she had a red bandanna tied around her head, knotted underneath her bunched-up hair at the back, almost biker style. Her little fanny pack purse hung near her beltline in front. 
They walked toward Grandpa.
“Good morning, Desiree,” he said. 
“Good morning, Uncle Don.” Still looking unsure, she glanced at Kevin and said, “Good morning, Kev.”
“You look more prepared for the workshop than he does,” Grandpa said to her. “Kevin, we’re going to have to get you some boots. You need coveralls, too.”
Somehow that triggered Desiree’s blushing, a thing Kevin thought was impossible. 
“I just finished mowing my grandparents’ lawn and they always want me to wear boots, even though I mostly use the rider. I hope you don’t mind me coming over here,” she added almost meekly. 
“Mind?” his grandfather said. “Why would we?” 
“I don’t know if you heard, Grampa,” Kevin told him. “Back by the door, Desiree asked if there’s anything she can do to help.” 
Grandpa seemed deep in thought while staring off. Finally, he snapped his fingers and said, “I think we could use your help, Desiree. You can chronicle everything: what we do, what we have to do, catalog parts and components, details of everything.” He smiled, looked at his watch, and said, “Let’s get started setting up an office out here. You can stay for lunch, can’t you, Desiree?”
“I’d have to call my grandparents and tell them.”
“I don’t think we’ll be working forty hours a week on this,” he told her, “but do you think you can be here every day we do?” 
“I’d like that,” she said, “as long as neither of you mind,” she added, looking expectantly at Kevin with raised eyebrows. 

Chapter Fifteen
Kevin was on the spot. From the beginning, he’d found Desiree so provocative that he couldn’t do much other than think about her when she was around. Now she seemed withdrawn, psychologically injured. Maybe the trouble with her parents had her on edge, and Sunday’s disturbance pushed her beyond. It was a good thing she had her grandparents and her piano. But was that enough? Maybe she needed to feel useful. So many things had happened so fast that he’d quit feeling sorry for himself because of his separation from Bonnie and his parents. Having more things to do must have helped. 
“I’d love to have you working on our project, Desiree,” he said, and for the first time in days she smiled at him. It wasn’t quite the same as the saucy looks she’d given before the run-in with the big man, but it was nice. Maybe even nicer than before because it made him feel good, almost comfortable. 
Grandpa directed them back to the office and said, “Don’t forget to call your grandmother, Desiree, and also tell her we’re going to town for a few things, but we’ll have you home in time for supper.”
Desiree punched in the numbers. Pretty soon she excitedly explained things, and then hung up. “She says everything is fine. What are we going to town for, Uncle Don?”
“Boots for Kevin, coveralls for the both of you, and safety glasses, too. Maybe even work gloves.”
They moved the smallest of the three desks into the shop. Grandpa told Desiree to pick out the chair she found most comfortable, and they rolled it out and positioned both in a well lit area close to the action but not in their paths to and from the tool box and the place at the workbench they decided to use. 
By the time they walked to the house it was after noon. They washed their hands before leaving the workshop, brushed themselves off the best they could, and checked each other for dirt before entering the kitchen. They left their footgear on a rug inside the door, Kevin being the only one with sneakers. 
Grandpa opened a bread package, took the lunchmeat, mayo, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes out of the refrigerator, and placed everything on the counter in the natural order it would take to build sandwiches. Adding plates and knives, he said, “Make your sandwiches while I get something for us to drink. Ladies first,” he added. 
Being Wednesday, Grandma was in Madison visiting her artsy friends, having lunch, and then on to her reading group. Grandpa said she was going to stop at the grocery store on the way home, and would be back in time to fix dinner. Kevin’s mind raced as he thought of ways to convince Grandma to give him a ride to Mount Horeb next week. Then he would send an email to Bonnie about it after supper. 
After lunch they rode to town in Grandpa’s pickup truck, a first for him, with Desiree sitting in the middle. He had his hands folded in his lap so the left one wouldn’t accidentally fall against her thigh. He remembered holding hands with her on the trail to the swimming hole, so he didn’t know why he found not touching her so important but he did. 
They stopped in front of a store that sold work clothes and sporting goods, and went in. Grandpa showed him which boots he should try on, while he helped Desiree pick out coveralls. Once Kevin had the box holding his new boots in hand, he found them in serious discussion. Desiree did not look happy. Apparently all their coveralls were for men, so she was having a hard time finding ones that fit to her satisfaction. 
“The idea is for them to cover and protect your clothes, Desiree,” Grandpa explained. “Don’t worry if they’re not exactly flattering. We don’t care, do we, Kev?” he said after noticing him. 
She had on blue-gray striped coveralls of the same type he had seen on men at auto dealer service departments. They covered her up, all right. They also masked her figure. He knew he had to say something better than his grandfather did, and soon. “You’re pretty no matter what you wear, Desiree. And when we’re done in the shop all you have to do is take them off, hang them up, and you’re good to go.”
Soon they were riding home with their new purchases, actually Grandpa’s new purchases since he paid with his Visa card. He said that tomorrow he’d bring his laptop computer for Desiree to work with. She was going to load pictures, make descriptions and files, as well as notes dictated by Grandpa. He was setting up the programs after supper, so she could start filling in the blanks tomorrow. The retired Harley-Davidson engineer was beginning to amaze Kevin. He would have to ask him exactly what he had engineered. 
At three o’clock Grandpa said, “I think that’s enough work for today. Why don’t you make sure Desiree gets home safely, and be back before supper, Kev? Desiree: I think starting tomorrow at nine will be early enough. We’ll work until three with a paid lunch break, lunch included. How does that sound?”
“You mean I’m getting paid?”
“Of course,” he said. “I can’t pay Kevin and not you.” 
“I had no idea,” she said, wide-eyed. “I just thought it would be something to do and be fun.”
Kevin had no idea, either. When Grandpa talked about putting him on the payroll, he thought he was speaking figuratively. He could hardly wait to tell Bonnie. 
“It is and it will be,” Grandpa told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll see you later, Kev.” 
He and Desiree walked toward the path, the shortcut through the woods. 
She took off her bandanna, reached back and removed her hair pins, letting her brilliant black hair fall, and stowed the pins and bandanna in her little pack. She shook her hair out as if it needed to be out in the air to breathe. They walked pretty much in silence until approaching the path that led to the swimming hole, where she stopped and turned to face him. “Could I talk to you for a minute, Kev?”
“Sure. Want to see if that old bench still works?”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, nodding. 
This time he led the way into the nice, private little place their grandfathers had used as a secret cove. He dusted off the bench with his hand and tried it. No cracking or creaking, and it held his weight without flexing. He didn’t know what kind of wood it was, but it must have been really good. Or perhaps Desiree was right and it was petrified. He patted the spot next to him, and she sat down. They ended up a little closer than he had intended, but he thought backing away would be bad form. When he looked at her with anticipation, she looked at the ground and said, “I want to apologize for being such a loser.”
“What?” He was taken aback. “You’re not a loser.” 
“Yes, I am. Remember when I told you I used to be weak and now I’m strong? It isn’t true. My mom is an alky, my dad is a queer, and I’m a weak little loser.”
“My parents have their own … problems, too,” he insisted. 
“Yeah, sure,” she scoffed. “Mayo clinic doctors doing volunteer work at a mission hospital in a third world country. They’re real losers, all right.” 
“They have problems you wouldn’t believe. Someday when I’m feeling brave I’ll tell you.”
“You’re always brave, and I’m a coward, a loser.”
He put a couple fingers under her chin and gently guided her face until she looked at him. She had tears in her eyes, and before he could say anything she said, “And you’ve been so nice to me anyway.” 
“You’re not a coward, and you’re not a loser. How many losers can play the piano the way you do?”
“Thanks. But I lost it, Kev,” she said, chin trembling. “I freaked out and cried like a little girl when that man had you by the throat. I should have helped you.”
“Remember when we were in the storage area and he burst through the workshop door? I motioned for you to stay so he wouldn’t see you, but you refused. That wasn’t a cowardly act.” 
“I thought we’d be safer if we stuck together, Kev. But I was wrong, and then I didn’t do anything,” she cried. 
“You weren’t wrong and you did help. You made the phone call. After that there was nothing for you to do. And if you hadn’t been there, I might not have been as motivated and could have gotten killed.” 
“How could a hysterical girl motivate you?”
“Who knows what he would have done after he finished with me?”
Her eyebrows went up, but then she frowned. “I’m still ashamed of myself.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine to cry sometimes, Desiree.” 
“Your girlfriend wasn’t crying when she defended you from that cop.”
That’s right. Desiree did say she saw the TV news story; the whole thing, too. “That was a way different situation. Besides, it’s perfectly acceptable for you to cry like a girl.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you are a girl.”
“That’s right. I caught you checking me out, didn’t I?” She laughed and wiped tears away. 
He thought of Bonnie, and how she could never know any of this. 
“Feeling guilty?” she asked. 
“Huh?” he said, half lost in thought.
“About noticing me when you have a girlfriend?” 
“Yeah, but … we’re just cousins, right?” 
“Second cousins,” she stipulated. 
“What difference does that make?”
“Lots,” she said softly, eyebrows arched up. 
She took his breath away again, but this time he was certain it was an unwitting theft. He stood, hoping to kick-start his lungs into action and prevent total cardiovascular failure. “I think we better get you home before people start wondering.” 
She got up, standing close to him. “Wondering what?” 
“Why it takes us an hour to do a ten minute walk.”
She laughed, put her arms around him, and hugged him. He wished she hadn’t done that because it felt so good. Not knowing what else to do, he put his arms around her and held her gently. The nicest thing didn’t happen: he wasn’t overpowered with desire, and he didn’t get aroused. He just felt warm and wanted. He was also comforting a friend in need. 
“Thank you, Kev.” 
“For what?”
“For being so nice and trying to understand me when I don’t understand myself.”
“Join the club,” he divulged. “I don’t understand lots of stuff. Especially myself.” 

Chapter Sixteen
After supper, Kevin was anxious to email Bonnie. He wondered if she saw the newspaper article, and what she thought of it. 
Dear Bonnie,
I hope your move went well and your new place is nice. There was a little bit of excitement here, trouble at my grandfather’s business, but we’re all okay. A reporter from the Madison Journal said the story would be in today’s paper, but we get ours delivered by mail and it’s always a day late. If there is a time I can call you tonight, I would sure like to as I’m dying to hear your voice. 
Love,
Kevin
Then he got out the photo album, found where he’d left off, and continued on. At about eight o’clock the phone rang. But it was never for him, so he never answered it unless nobody else could pick up. Soon he saw his grandmother in the doorway, and she said, “The phone is for you, Kevin.”
“Thank you, Gramma,” he replied, picked up the cordless handset on the desk and pushed the talk button. “Hello, this is Kevin.”
”Hi, Kevin. This is Bonnie.” 
Her voice sounded flat, like something was wrong.
“Bonnie! I’m so glad you called. Your mom must be out, huh?”
“No. Daddy got me a cell phone so I can talk anytime I want to.”
“That’s great.”
“I got your email,” she deadpanned. “You didn’t say much.” 
“That’s because I wanted to talk to you in person. If I wrote everything on an email it would be pages long.”
“I bet,” she said coldly. 
“Is there something wrong, Bonnie?”
“It was kind of a shock to learn that you have a lovely young lady companion.”
“What?”
“You know, your damsel in distress.”
“What are you talking about, Bonnie?”
“The story in the newspaper. You just keep making news, don’t you, Kevin?”
“Believe me, I wasn’t trying to. I wished it never happened.”
“Why? Did the bad man interrupt something?” 
“If you’re talking about the girl who was with me when it happened, everyone thought it was best to leave her name out of the newspaper.”
“So, who is she, Kevin?”
“Just a cousin.”
“What’s her name, Kevin?”
“Desiree, but we were just—”
“Desiree what?”
“Chantelle.”
“Hmm. Desiree Chantelle,” Bonnie said slowly. “She sounds exotic, but I’m sure your intentions were honorable since you’re so noble and brave. I thought your only cousin in the world was Brian?” she snarled. 
“So did I, until Sunday. I just met her then and—”
“First date, huh?”
“I told you, she’s my cousin.”
“On whose side, your mom’s or your dad’s?”
“My dad’s, but—”
“I thought your dad was an only child?”
“He is, but—”
“Then how could you have a cousin on his side of the family?”
“Her grandfather and my grandmother are brother and sister.”
“So you and she share great-grandparents, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“That makes you second cousins,” she accused. 
“So what? It’s you I love, Bonnie.”
“Have you kissed your kissing cousin yet, Kevin?”
“No!” 
“Have you gone for nice walks holding hands? Embraced the way we did?”
He paused a little too long. Although they technically hugged, it wasn’t romantic. How could he explain that? 
“So you did!” Bonnie huffed. 
“No, it wasn’t like that at all, Bonnie.” He was on the defensive without a clue how to redeem himself. “She was just feeling down because she got a little hysterical during the skirmish. I was only comforting her. I think you’re reading way too much into that news story. You know how those things can be.”
“How old is she, Kevin?”
“Fourteen.”
“Is she pretty?”
Once again, he paused. How could he honestly answer that? Bonnie was pretty, but Desiree was the most beautiful female of any age he’d ever seen. Surely, if Bonnie could see her she’d realize how out of his league Desiree was. Somehow he knew that would be a bad way to explain his way into Bonnie’s good graces, though.
“Your silence speaks volumes, Kevin.”
“I need to see you, Bonnie. I can explain everything if we can just get—” 
“I kind of reconciled with my mother,” she interrupted. “She’s not quite as dumb as I thought. This idea of seeing you once a week for two months isn’t going to work, and you know it. You’re in a whole different league now, anyway. If you’re not saving children, you’re lassoing bad guys with lamp cords while restoring antique race cars. I’ll grow up to be a starving artist, and you’ll become like Batman or something. Who knows what your next exploit will be? Someday you’ll probably play the lead roll of yourself in a movie about you, and do your own stunts. You’re just too big for me, Kevin.”
If he was so big, why did he feel so small? 
“You know,” she went on, “I think if you could get your hands on me every day, you could continue believing you love me and maybe even be satisfied with only me. But that’s just not possible. I’ll give you this, Kevin: you could have lied and told me you never touched her. I might have believed you. You could have said she’s an ugly little ten-year-old you were forced to babysit. You were sort of honest with me, so I think it’s time for you to be honest with yourself. Goodbye.” 
The line went dead and he stared at the phone, believing what happened but not accepting it. He logged onto the newspaper’s web site and found the story, headlined: 
Junkyard “David” Takes Down and Hog Ties “Goliath”
As if saving the life of a two year old by facing off against a semi tractor-trailer rig wasn’t enough, Rochester, Minnesota native Kevin Johnson now rescued a damsel in distress at his grandfather’s place of business, Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage near Darlington, Wisconsin. Johnson was showing the lovely young lady a vintage race car that he and his grandfather are restoring, when they were attacked by a man demanding the immediate release of his Corvette that was  ordered impounded by the Lafayette County Sheriff. Johnson and his unnamed companion had stopped by after Sunday dinner at Grandma’s house, when the assault occurred. 
After the thug burst in demanding his car, Johnson tried explaining that the business wasn’t open. But his words fell on deaf ears and the interloper grabbed him by the throat, triggering Johnson to make his move. 
A sheriff’s department spokesperson said that Johnson was outweighed by at least a hundred pounds, is almost a foot shorter, but has the heart of a lion and must have fought like a wildcat because when they got there the assailant was unconscious and tied up with lamp cords. The yet to be named perpetrator had been granted a special bail hearing on pending DWI charges the very morning of the incident. Johnson made sure the brute did time in the hospital before he was sent back to jail, where he was met by his lawyer and posted bail again. 
Johnson credited the outcome to his karate lessons, private instructions from his cousin, Brian Donnelly of Minneapolis, Minnesota, and said that going to church that morning probably didn’t hurt, either. When asked what he plans on doing for an encore, Johnson said, “I just want to get to work on the restoral project, since it’s meant as a tribute to my great-grandfather who drove a car just like it in the 1927 Indianapolis 500.” Kevin Johnson is the son of Drs. Bridget and Paul Johnson II, physicians at the Mayo clinic who are spending their summer volunteering at a mission hospital in Costa Rica. 
He honestly didn’t think it was a bad story, and didn’t believe the reporter meant him harm. But he understood how some of the references made Bonnie feel betrayed. Now she thought he was some sort of morally deficient super-hero and wanted nothing to do with him. He printed out the newspaper article and studied it while crafting a letter to her. His only hope would be exposing his human frailties and begging for her forgiveness. Maybe that would fix everything. 
“Hey, Kev, you better get to bed.”
He looked up, saw his grandfather approaching, and wondered if he had been sleeping or just lost in thought. Since he was still sitting upright at the desk, he decided that he must have zoned out and had been daydreaming. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was after ten. “I guess I lost track of time. Sorry, Grampa. I know it’s late, but could we talk?” 
A moment ago his grandfather looked tired, but he perked up instantly.
“Sure thing,” Grandpa said. He came toward the chair at the side of the desk and sat down. Resting one arm on the desk close to Kevin, he said, “Something wrong?” 
“Yeah, everything. Well maybe not everything, but plenty. We never did talk after finding out … what we did about my parents, but to top it off Bonnie just broke up with me over the phone.” He looked at his watch again and added, “I guess two hours ago. I’ve been working on a letter to email to her, but haven’t gotten very far.”
“Did she say why?”
“Yeah, she said plenty. You know that story that was to be printed in the Madison newspaper today? The one we’ll get tomorrow? She saw it and read way more into it than was there.” Kevin handed him the printed out page. 
Grandpa fished reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, put them on, and began reading while Kevin tried interpreting his facial expressions. 
Grandpa smiled a bit at times, then put the page down and took his glasses off. “Pretty good article, in my opinion. You know, Kev, newspaper reporters often stretch things. They want entertainment value as long as nobody got killed. Bonnie wasn’t amused, I take it?” 
“The words ‘damsel in distress, lovely young lady, and unnamed companion’ made her … distrustful of me. She also made up with her mother who hates me, and has her mind made up that I’m some sort of show-off hero womanizer. I’m none of those things, Grampa. But, to be honest, sometimes uncontrollable thoughts go through my head that I’m not very proud of.” 
“You are a hero, and we’re proud of you, Kevin. We saw the replay of you saving the little boy, and if you hadn’t taken down that ‘Goliath,’” he said, gesturing with the newspaper story still in hand, “I bet he would have waited for me. One punch from a guy his size would probably kill this old man.”
“I was scared witless during both of those things, Grampa. I don’t think I could do either again. I’m not a hero, I’m a fraud.”
“A hero is one that does the right thing in spite of fear. Someone who’s fearless isn’t really brave. Only someone who conquers their fear can be called brave, and brave you are, Kev. I don’t want you denying your heroics or belittling your abilities again. I’m your grandfather and I forbid it. Now, let’s move on to the important stuff so you can get some sleep and I can get an honest day’s work out of you tomorrow. Tell me: when did you and Bonnie fall for each other?”
“The first time I saw her was at the beginning of the school year. I almost walked into a doorjamb. Then I was lucky enough to be her lab partner in biology class, but I didn’t work up the nerve to ask her out until school was almost over.”
“So, where did you go on your first date?”
“The ice cream parlor, and then we were going to take a walk in the park when I saw that little kid heading toward disaster. After that we just came together. You saw the kiss.”
“What about these uncontrollable thoughts you aren’t proud of? Tell me about them.”
Kevin felt his face redden and didn’t know if he could actually tell his grandfather those things. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. 
“It’s okay, Kev,” Grandpa said while gesturing to him with the bow of his reading glasses, “you can tell me anything.”
“Well, after Bonnie and I … fell in love, we—”
“Are you and Bonnie … you know … doing it?” 
“No. No, Grampa,” he adamantly denied, fearing that his ears were about to catch on fire. 
Grandpa’s eyebrows went up like he had caught him in a lie. 
“Maybe a little kissing,” he admitted. 
“So I’ve seen,” Grandpa reminded him. 
“And hugging.”
“Saw that, too,” Grandpa pointed out. 
“Touching,” Kevin said. “Above the waist touching.” 
Grandpa cocked his head to the side and raised one eyebrow. 
“There was no skin-to-skin contact below the beltline,” Kevin amended, “and that’s the absolute truth,” he insisted. 
“Okay, Kev, you sound pretty normal to me.”
“But the first time I saw Desiree, I … I imagined us … together.” 
“You and just about every other guy in the world,” Grandpa quipped. “Go on.” 
“How could I do that when I’m supposed to be in love with Bonnie?”
“Who says you’re supposed to be in love with Bonnie?”
“She said she loved me, and I said I loved her.”
“On your first date with your dream girl after an amazingly traumatic experience, you professed your love, correct?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You were probably caught up in the moment after realizing you survived. You know you were almost killed, right?” 
“Yes, sir.”
“I think you experienced a perfectly natural reaction to an attractive member of the opposite sex. It’s called lust. Your brush with death added fuel to the fire. Many babies have been born because of events like that.” 
Now Kevin’s whole face was in danger of igniting. 
“It’s okay, Kevin,” Grandpa said with a smile. “Without a little lust, people who should be together might never fall in love. I guess a more politically correct term would be sex appeal. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just one of those facts of life. I think you felt guilty when you noticed Desiree because you said you were in love with Bonnie, and wanted to do the right thing by keeping your word. Isn’t that possible?”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I feel so much shame for … for what amounts to lusting after my own cousin.” 
“Second cousin,” Grandpa stipulated. 
“Why do people keep saying that?”
“Because second cousins can marry in all fifty states, not that I’m encouraging anything,” he added, waving his hands back and forth. Have you … acted on your feelings toward Desiree?”
“No. I was mesmerized, enchanted, and intimidated by her, but I certainly didn’t make any advances on her. She’d have laughed at me, and then that guy busted into the shop.” 
“What about since then?”
“Like I said, she’d laugh at me. I don’t need that kind of humiliation. But, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought about it anyway. She was so traumatized, and still is, Grampa. When I walked her home this afternoon, she apologized for getting hysterical and crying when that guy had me by the throat. She thought she should have done something. She called herself a coward and a loser, but I told her she was neither. When we were looking at the racer and he couldn’t see her, I signaled for her to stay put, but she refused. I told her a coward wouldn’t do that. And I pointed out that she did do something: she made the phone call. Then I told her no loser could play the piano the way she does. I didn’t know what else to say, so I told her it’s okay for her to cry like a girl because she is one. She thanked me for being nice and put her arms around me. So I put mine around her and we just held each other. I felt warm and needed. There was nothing romantic about it.” 
“That was a good thing, Kev. You demonstrated love for her as a friend. Did you ever experience something like that with Bonnie?”
“We were upset about the way her mother reacted to the TV news piece, and that they were moving. We got together alone a few times after that. I was sure it had to be love. Do you believe in love at first sight, Grampa?”
“No, but I believe lust at first sight happens all the time.”
“How do you avoid it?”
“I never said it has to be completely avoided, you just have to be careful. For instance: I believe a marriage based solely on lust is doomed. On the other hand, I believe a marriage without a little lust between partners would be a dreary one. Love is certainly possible without lust, such as non-romantic love between friends and family, but between a man and a woman in a serious relationship? I don’t think so.”
“So, what do you think I should do about Bonnie?”
“I won’t dance around the issue. I say forget about her. You can never have a future together if you aren’t also friends. And remember: I suspect you weren’t in love.” 
“How can you be so sure?”
“When you and Bonnie were distraught and alone together, who were you most interested in providing comfort to? You or her? You don’t need to tell me, but I want you to give yourself an honest answer. We can talk more another time, but right now I want you to get to bed so you can make it to the breakfast table on time tomorrow.”
After breakfast, Kevin and his grandfather walked toward the shop. There was no mention of their private talk on the previous night. Kevin never thought he could talk with anyone about things like that, let alone his grandfather. He thought he had gone out on a limb asking his mother about love. The only thing his grandfather scolded him about was when he belittled himself. 
When he said they could talk about anything, he believed he meant it, and wondered if Desiree talked to her uninhibited grandmother about stuff like that. Kevin decided that old people must be really good sources of information about life. He used to hash things over with Brian, but all he knew he learned from his dad’s dirty magazines. “Thank you for talking with me last night, Grampa.”
“You’re welcome, Kev. I hope I was of help.”
“Yes, sir, you were. Did you really mean it when you said we could talk more some other time?”
“Yes, but it’s an open ended offer. Not just ‘some other time,’ but any other time, meaning as many times as you want. I’d prefer we do it a little earlier, but if it’s urgent I’ll always be available to you.”
“Just a quick one before we get to the shop with Desiree, Grampa?”
“Sure.”
“When my mom was arguing with my dad about you and Gramma, besides the secret of his grandfather having gone to prison, he mentioned something about how young you and Gramma were when you married. Can you tell me about that?” Kevin looked at him and could tell he was thinking, thinking hard.
“Even though your father wrote me and your grandmother out of his life for not divulging the family secrets to him by the time he thought we should have, he made me promise not to tell you that right now. I think he was a bit concerned about you and Bonnie. Anyway, I didn’t like it but I agreed. It hurts me to hold back from you, but for now I have to. I will give you a hint, though.”
Kevin looked up at him with anticipation.
“Desiree knows. Actually, Desiree knows all the family history, written and unwritten, except what we learned about your parents last Saturday.” 
“How is it that she knows?”
“Between the two families,” Grandpa said, “she’s been like the only grandchild for all these years.”
“She didn’t know about the old race car until I told her,” Kevin pointed out. 
“Nobody but your grandmother and I knew. We didn’t want to jinx it.” 

Chapter Seventeen
The intercom crackled to life, “It’s me,” Desiree said. 
Kevin opened the door, let her in, closed and locked it. They took their coveralls off the hooks on the wall, and Kevin began getting into his. Desiree removed her little purse-pack and hung it on the hook her coveralls had been on, and slipped into hers. Then she wrapped a red cloth sash around her waist, tied it in a bow in front and turned it around her midsection until the bow was in the center of her waist behind her, leaving her hourglass figure somewhat noticeable. She was also wearing a red bandanna, same color as the sash, and had her fingernails painted to match. 
Kevin thought she looked like the sexiest garage mechanic the world had ever seen, but of course the whole world didn’t get to see her. He felt privileged. “You look really pretty today, Desiree,” he said, and then stammered, “I mean you always look great, but … I mean in coveralls … I just didn’t expect it.” 
She gave him the nicest little smile and said, “Thank you, Kev. What’s on the agenda today, Uncle Don?”
“Put on your safety glasses,” his grandfather replied. “We’re going to take more components off. First we’ll try a nutcracker.”
“You mean Kevin?” Desiree asked, trying to keep a straight face but with mischief in her eyes. Kevin was sure she was referring to his initial counter-attack of last Sunday. That she seemed to have regained some of her normal attitude, strength, and sense of humor made him smile. She noticed and smiled back. There was something a little different, though. She didn’t seem quite as intimidating as he remembered from when they first met. It was like she lowered her force field a little, just for him. 
“Very funny, Miss Fashion Statement,” Grandpa said. “You just open up that laptop. On its desktop is an icon labeled, ‘shortcut to body panels.’ Open that and start entering the actual pictures from the camera. What you do is click on the panel number in the corresponding exploded illustration. I marked each body panel on the back. I’ll take them to an auto-body repair shop tomorrow so they can evaluate if they’re usable. I don’t think they look too bad, but we’ll do a plan ‘B’ if any need replacing. 
“As Kevin and I take parts off the chassis, we’ll set them over there,” he added, pointing, “and you will take a picture of each. I’ll tell you what it is, and you can click on ‘Chassis Components.’ You’ll load the picture in under the component name, and I’ll tell you the estimated condition and expected repair or refinishing technique to use. I’m measuring each bolt and giving you the dimensions, grade, and thread type needed and you’ll enter that, too. All bolts will be new when we re-assemble. And for any of the actual components that need replacing, you’ll check the box under, ‘Needs Replacement.’ Any questions?” 
“I’ve got one, Grampa.”
“Shoot.”
“What kind of engineer were you at Harley-Davidson?”
“Mechanical. But I worked there for forty years, so I made the rounds. My last assignment was vehicle logistics engineer for the touring line of motorcycles.”
“What does that mean?”
“I made sure all the parts fit and were compatible with everything else. When we go to lunch, we’ll stop by the garage so I can demonstrate on my motorcycle. Remind me later. All right now, let’s get to work.”
First they used the nutcracker, which was supposed to do just that: crack the nut in half. When it worked, they drove the bolt out with a brass punch to avoid denting the steel around it. When the nutcracker didn’t do the job, they used a grinder or a chisel. The absolute last resort, which they hadn’t had to do yet, was the cutting torch. By the time it was getting close to lunch, Kevin was a dirty mess, and all they had managed to remove was the engine and transmission. Using Grandpa’s portable hoist on wheels, they moved those components to the storage area. 
This time Kevin noticed a few other enticing things back there. But Grandpa said he’d show him more another time, and they went back to the shop. Desiree announced she had all the body panel pictures loaded. Grandpa seemed impressed with what they’d accomplished in two-and-a-half hours, and told them to hang up their coveralls and wash their hands. Before going into the house, he took them to the garage to see his motorcycle: a huge, suede green and black, top-of-the-line Electra Glide. 
“How can you handle this big thing, Grampa?”
“I’m a little tougher than I look,” he maintained, “but you control a motorcycle more with brains than brawn. Having said that, your grandmother thinks I should consider a smaller one if I intend to continue riding.”
“Like a Sportster?” Kevin asked, showing off his newfound Harley-Davidson knowledge, complements of their website. 
“Not that small,” Grandpa answered, giving him a wary eye. “I was thinking more along the lines of a Heritage. Back to the issue at hand. A motorcycle has more parts than you’d think. Take a look down here,” he said, pointing at the engine. “The motor itself, and everything attached to it has to be compatible with the frame, gas tank, and a lot of other things needed on the bike. The same goes for electronic equipment, wheels and fenders, and even the seat. Whenever changes were made to the design of anything, I’d have to make sure it would work with the motorcycle as it was, and with optional accessories.”
“Shouldn’t the engineers designing each part be doing that?” Kevin asked.
“Sometimes people get too wrapped up in their own little world to see the big picture. Think of what I did similar to what the conductor of an orchestra does.”
Desiree nodded in agreement. 
“Okay, let’s go in the house and eat,” Grandpa said. “Today, Keely has something special for us. I believe it’s Desiree’s favorite.”
Off to the house they went, leaving their boots on a rug just inside the kitchen door. 
“I hope the race car team is hungry,” Kevin’s grandmother said. 
“Hi, Great-auntie Keely,” Desiree greeted cheerfully. 
Kevin didn’t know why she called his grandmother “Great-auntie Keely” since she called his grandfather “Uncle Don,” but that was what she did. 
“Hello, dear,” his grandmother replied to Desiree. “I hope Donny isn’t making you work too hard. In my day girls rarely entered a garage, let alone worked in one. Whatever you do, don’t cut yourself and get any oil on it.”
“Is that dangerous, Great-auntie Keely?” Desiree said, wide-eyed. 
“Oh, my, yes! Donny told me once you get oil in your blood, you’ll be a gearhead for life.” She laughed, and the rest joined in. “Sit down, sit down. Today we’re having chicken Cesar salads and fresh whole wheat bread. Each salad has a whole cut-up chicken breast, so it ought to hold you until dinner.” 
Somehow Kevin imagined more roast beef, mashed potatoes, and corn from his country grandmother, but realized he was just stereotyping their generation and locale. Of course Grandpa did say it was Desiree’s favorite. The choice of beverages was lemonade, ice tea, or water. 
Before long, Desiree set down her fork, swallowed, and said, “Say, Kev, I was wondering if you would teach karate to me?”
“He swallowed, paused, and said, “I don’t know if I’m good enough to actually teach you anything about karate.”
Her lovely dark eyebrows went down and the space between them narrowed. She cocked her head to the side, just a little, and her luscious lips tightened.
“But I’d love to show you some of the basic moves, techniques, and exercises, and work with you. It might help if I get a book on it, though.”
Her eyebrows went back into position, her eyes softened, and she gave him a sly smile. 
“Why don’t you search online for one, dear?” Grandma said to him. “You can either order it or I could pick it up next Wednesday when I go to Madison.” 
“Thank you, Gramma. I’ll check it out tonight. Are you and Grampa still thinking about getting a dog?” he asked. 
“We talked about it,” Grandpa answered, “but decided against it. We’d worry too much about who’d care for it in the likely event that it outlived us.”
“Likely event? What’s that supposed to mean?” Kevin asked. 
“I’m seventy-four and your grandmother is seventy-three. Any time you make it past seventy, you’re living on borrowed time.”
Kevin didn’t like where this topic was going, so he decided to shut up and eat. 
Once back in the shop, they removed the steering column and gearbox, followed by the links and tie-rods. By the time everything was cleaned up it was three o’clock, and Grandpa announced it was quitting time. After removing their coveralls, Grandpa said to them, “Why don’t you two go get a little sun and enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you at supper, Kev. By the way, you both did real good work today. Thank you.”
Kevin and Desiree went out the back, since it was closer to the path, and he heard his grandfather lock the door behind them. It was probably the warmest day in the short time he’d been there, and it was nice to get outside. The sun felt good as he walked along with Desiree, his potential source of information. Information that was no longer important, but still intriguing. They entered the trail beneath the canopy of trees, out of direct sunlight, but it still felt nice and warm. 
He was close to her as they approached the path to the swimming hole, and she suddenly stopped and turned around. He almost crashed into her, but grabbed her upper arms to prevent it. She placed a hand on each of his forearms at almost the same time. Their faces were inches apart. “Please excuse me, Desiree.”
“For?”
“Almost colliding with you.”
“I’m sorry, Kev. I should have told you I was stopping. I almost didn’t but … I wonder if I could talk with you again?”
“Down there?” he motioned with his head toward their grandfathers’ former sanctuary.
She nodded, took him by the hand, and led the way down the narrow path beyond the brush and small trees. Most of the rest of the woods had little undergrowth because the tall trees shaded the ground. A few ferns and some moss grew here and there, but it was pretty clear except around the cove. It was as if it was designed for privacy. They went right to the bench and sat down as if they’d been doing it for years. She still had his hand in hers, resting on his thigh, and turned half sideways to face him. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to help out with your project, Kev.”
“It’s really my Grandfather’s.”
“Yeah, but I’m butting in on your alone time with him. That’s why I needed to make sure you were okay with it. I really appreciate the chance to help you guys.” 
“I like being … working with you, Desiree.” The protected area also blocked the wind and, since the bench was the only spot in the clearing where the sun shined through, he was getting warmer. “I was going to ask you if we could talk, too, Desiree.” 
She had a puzzled expression on her face and asked, “Really? What about?”
“My grandfather was sworn to secrecy by my father regarding how old my grandparents were when they married. I was told that you know the family secrets, or should we say ‘history?’” 
Her puzzled expression vanished and was replaced with one of her mischievous ones. “Speaking of secrets, you haven’t told me the disturbing things you found out about your parents. After all, I did bare it all to you about mine,” she pouted playfully. 
Sweat trickled down Kevin’s back and his face felt warm. 
Desiree seemed to know how uncomfortable he was, smiled sweetly, and patted the hand holding hers with her other one. “I think you’re heating up a bit, Kev. Maybe you should get in the water and cool off.” 
“I … I still don’t know if I can talk about it, Desiree.”
“Sometimes you just have to jump in,” she toyed. “Since you had me tell all, I think it’s only fair that you bare your soul to me. You know, this must be the hottest day of the year so far. Maybe we should go for a dip in the pool. We can talk in there.” 
“You mean naked?” 
“No, silly.” She giggled. “In our underwear, just the way your grandparents used to. We’ll be taking a dip, but not skinny-dipping.”
“But,” he argued, “your grandfather was with them as kind of a chaperone. Somehow that seems more … innocent.” 
“Are you wearing tighty-whities, or boxer shorts?”
“Boxers,” he admitted quietly. 
“They’re almost like swimming trunks, Kev, and I bet my bra and panties cover more than most bikinis do.”
At the mention of her undergarments, his face felt even hotter. 
“Underwear, swimming suits, what’s the difference, Kev? You aren’t … afraid are you?” she said, obviously amused by his discomfort. 
Him? Afraid of having such a magnificent woman see him in his underwear? Of course he was afraid. Terrified she’d find his scrawny little body funny and laugh. As he sweated profusely, Desiree laughed. She seemed back to her old self, which gave him mixed feelings. 
“Here’s the deal, Kev: We take off our boots and socks right here. Then we’ll go over by those posts and take off everything but our underwear and drape our clothes on the posts. We’ll get in the pool, you’ll tell me about your parents, and I’ll tell you all about your family secrets. Those are my conditions, so off with your boots.”
He looked at her for a moment and detected no amusement. Finally he began unlacing his boots, and she did the same. 
Then she stood and took a couple of two-prong hair pins out of her purse-pack. She held them in her lips while gathering her hair behind her head as if she was going to put it in a ponytail, somehow twirled it around until it was bunched up and inserted the pins in place. It took just a few seconds and was really quite amazing. “I don’t want to get my hair wet,” she explained. “It’d take too long to dry and my grandparents would know what we’ve been up to.”
“I thought this was just good, clean fun?” he said suspiciously. 
“How would they know that?” she replied, smiling. 
They walked over by the posts, and he looked questioningly at her. She nodded and motioned with her hands, prodding him to get to it. He turned like a man about to be executed, first took off his shirt and then, begrudgingly, his pants. 
“Okay, good; let’s go, Kev.”
He quickly turned around and saw her in her panties and bra, both very thin and almost the same color as her flesh. “You weren’t supposed to look,” he stammered. 
“I never said that. But now we’re even since you see me,” she pointed out, and then walked over near the pool. 
Kevin had never seen such a sight. Although it shouldn’t have been a surprise since she was hot fully clothed, captivating in coveralls. 
“You first to see if it’s safe,” she said.
He looked her in the eye, afraid to look at her anywhere else, and said, “You’ve never been in there?”
“No. My grandparents asked me not to go in the water alone, and I sure don’t have anybody else to do it with.”
He walked in. It was cold but he was determined to cover his body with something, even if it was icy water. When it was about three feet deep he ducked down to his neck and kept moving until reaching the deepest part in the middle, around four-and-a-half feet, and treaded water. He turned around and she was looking at him expectantly. 
“Well?” she said. 
“Hurry up and get in. It’s cold at first, but do it fast and get in over with.” She walked in, shuddered, and crossed her arms. She looked at him with her mouth open in shock, and he urged her on until she was across from him a few feet away. “So, why haven’t you had anybody else to do this with, Desiree?” 
“I don’t have any friends, except you. The girls hate me because their boyfriends gawk at me in front of them, and all the boys want, who dare talk to me, is to jump my bones.” 
The cold water had its affect on Kevin’s body and also seemed to clear his mind. He no longer felt as vulnerable and could function again. He pumped up his nerve and said, “What makes you think I’m so pure?” 
“You’re a hero and a gentleman,” she replied. “Besides, we’re friends, right?”
“Yeah. I guess since Brian moved away you’re my best friend in the whole world. How long do you think we can stand it in here?”
“Long enough for you to tell me what’s wrong with your folks,” she reminded, shuddering. 
“Then you have to tell me about my grandparents, or I won’t let you out,” he countered. 
“Okay, Kevin, hurry up.”
“Over two years ago, my grandmother met my mom by pretending to be a patient. She must have told my dad about it because he threatened to … not sleep with her if she had any further contact. I found all this stuff out the day we arrived here. Mom did contact my grandparents, on the sly, but chickened out on telling me about them until she invited them to our Fourth of July party last year.”
Desiree’s eye’s opened wide and she asked, “What happened?”
“They came on Grandpa’s motorcycle. Dad pretty much ignored them. I met them but didn’t talk too much. Anyway, Dad followed through with his threat and cut Mom off for six months. Maybe more because that’s when she told him if he did it with anybody else he’d wake up groggy and find himself neutered.”
Desiree laughed gleefully and said, “Way to go, girl!”
Trying not to smile, he continued, “He must have given in around the time she agreed to go on that volunteer thing in Costa Rica. She went along on the condition that I get to come here and stay with my grandparents. On the evening of the incident I had with the truck and the little kid—”
“Don’t call it that, Kev. You saved his life. You looked like Superman running toward that truck.”
“Anyway, I didn’t talk to my folks about it until they got home. They had just finished playing cards at some friends’ house and turned on the TV news. When my thing came on, Dad was in the bathroom and missed the first part. All he saw was the kiss and heard the tacky remarks from that news guy. He must have stewed about that, and when they got home he answered the phone when Mom was in my room with me. The phone rang nonstop after the broadcast. I sure was glad we had caller I.D. Anyway, Mom was holding me and crying, and Dad came in and said whoever was on the phone asked if I got lucky with my girlfriend. 
“He was mad at me! 
“Mom threatened to take me and leave him. She was really angry and demanded that he get counseling after they get back from Costa Rica, and she said she might do it, too. My dad kind of broke down and cried. He spent almost all the next day writing a letter of apology to my grandparents, and had it delivered by FedEx. That’s about it, I think.”
“Okay, it’s true,” she said breathily as she moved closer, “I know all your old family secrets,” she added in a hushed tone. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but we’ll have to spread it out or we’ll turn blue and die in here. Now for the basics,” she smiled. “D.B. was sixteen and Keely was fifteen when they got married.” 
“D.B.?”
“That’s what they called him when he was a kid. It’s short for Donny Boy.”
“Really? And he was sixteen? Is that legal?”
“I guess. I checked on the internet and found it’s still legal to get married at sixteen in Wisconsin as long as you have your parents’ permission. Get this: You can marry in Minnesota at fifteen with each having one parent’s permission.” 
“What did they do? How did they survive?”
“They were together, but not alone. They were still kids, dependants of their parents. They took turns staying at each others parents’ houses.”
“How did they ever get their parents to let them do it?”
“I’ve only heard hints about that, but I think their parents were afraid they’d run away together and never be seen again. I guess the real scandal would be their ages when they became engaged.” 
“Why? What do you mean?”
“They were engaged to be married when D.B. was fourteen and Keely was thirteen.” 
“How could they do that?”
“There are laws stating how old you have to be to marry, with and without parental approval, and there are laws regarding the age of sexual consent. But there are no laws regarding engagements. Can we get out of here before I freeze to death?” 
Kevin was behind her as they made their way out of the pool. Her waist wasn’t freakishly wasp-like but it was small, very appealing. If he held it—not that he’d do such a thing—he figured his thumbs would touch at the center and his fingers would wrap around her sides. As she climbed the bank, her derriere—he’d never call such a masterpiece an ass—broke the surface of the water. Derriere didn’t even do it justice. That implied an item whereas her firm, nicely rounded buttocks were clearly defined independent entities in charge of the leg beneath. Her thin, wet panties had become somewhere between translucent and transparent, but being flesh-colored gave the illusion that her bottom was bare. As her hips swayed, one buttock muscle went up, then the other. And her thighs! They had a space between them that had to be a good two inches, right to the top. The enticing display was well worth any humiliation he would suffer if she laughed at his body. 
“Now what do we do?” he asked once near the bench. “How long will it take our things to dry?” 
“Keely used to make the boys go out beyond the bushes, and they’d take off their undies and wring them out. She’d give the ‘okay’ when she was ready, and they’d sit on the bench in the sun until dry and get dressed.” Desiree looked down at him. “Oh, my,” she smirked. 
“What?”
“I’m kinda seeing through your shorts, Kev.” 
It was doubtful he could be putting on a better show than she was. Her little thatch of black pubic hair was obvious, as were her large, dark areolas surrounding erect nipples trying to poke through her unpadded bra. Sure his shorts were mostly white, but her panties fit snuggly whereas his were roomy. Besides, he was fair-haired. “Uh, Desiree, guess what?” he shot back. 
Her sassy smile vanished, replaced by an expression of bewilderment. She looked down at herself, gasped, and put a hand on a breast, the forearm across the other. Then she bent over slightly, scootching her rear back, and covered her crotch with the other hand, all while staring wide-eyed at him. 
Kevin looked down at himself, expecting to see a mere hint of his own pubic hair, a cost well worth what he had seen. Instead, he was greeted by tented-out shorts plastered to a stand-up boner. He made a hasty retreat beyond the bushes, and seriously considered not stopping until he got to his grandparents’ house. But then he’d have to explain what happened to his clothes, causing further humiliation and implicating Desiree in their naughty little dalliance, a childish and totally unacceptable solution. 
He swiped water away and then paused, making sure nobody was coming. Then he glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if Desiree was looking. Satisfied that he had privacy, he dropped his boxers and stepped out of them. By the time he wrung them out and pulled them back on, his main object of embarrassment had waned to limpness—almost back to normal. Then he turned, faced the entry to the skinny-dipping pool, and wondered, “Now what?” 
“Kevin,” Desiree’s engaging voice said not long after. “You can come back now. That is if you’re decent,” she added with a bit more seriousness.
In other words, his little guy had to be at ease and properly stowed. He checked, and then went back to the cove, hoping he wouldn’t face ridicule for either his scrawny body or his uncontrollable faux pas.
Desiree established eye contact right away. She had both feet up on the bench—knees near her chest, arms wrapped around them—looking both embarrassed and amused. But no mockery spewed forth. In fact, she didn’t say a thing, seemingly waiting for him to. 
“Room for me on there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
He sat alongside her but didn’t feel comfortable. Even looking straight ahead she was visible in his peripheral vision, and he feared another uncalled-for erection. So he turned, and straddled the bench with a foot on each side, facing away. It was much more relaxing than looking at her practically naked body. Seeing her was immensely pleasurable, but his nerves couldn’t take it. “My mom said that my grandmother and grandfather didn’t have to get married,” he said, breaking the silence. “Is that true?”
“Yeah,” Desiree replied. “I think they were married like eight years before your dad was born. They used prophylactics until they graduated from college and got situated in their jobs.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you know, rubbers. Funny story about that: remember how my grandfather used to sneak cigarettes from his dad? The summer your grandparents professed their love for each other, my grandfather took a condom from his dad’s dresser and brought it to D.B. Told him he better not knock up his sister, at least until they graduated from high school, or he’d punch him out.”
“Are you serious?” Kevin turned his head a bit and so did she, at just the same time and direction as his. 
“Hey, I like having fun with you, Kev, but I’ll never lie to you. I get the feeling you’d never lie to me, either.” 
It wasn’t a question, but seemed to be a knowing statement of fact. He turned his head away and said, “Yeah,” even though he could tell no response was expected. “So did they … use it?”
“What? The rubber?” she said nonchalantly, like it was a normal topic of conversation. Either that or she was back to unnerving him with her boldness. “Great-auntie Keely says they didn’t do the deed until their wedding night,” she went on, “but I don’t know about that.” 
“Why not?” he asked, turning his head again. Her face was right next to his. 
“Can you imagine being engaged for two years without doing it, Kev? I bet you and your girlfriend won’t even wait ‘til you’re engaged.” 
“I don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” he said. 
“What?”
“She broke up with me on the phone last night.”
“Shut up! What happened?” 
“I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. And, besides, better now than later.”
“What do you mean?”
“I recently found out that my aunt, my mom’s sister, and my uncle are getting divorced. My cousin Brian’s parents. They’ve been married for sixteen years.”
“What’s behind it?”
“He’s been … he has another woman on the side.”
“What a low-life,” Desiree remarked. “One notch up from my dad. Is she prettier, the other woman?”
“Dr. Low-life,” Kevin amended. “Like my dad except I don’t think Dad’s been fooling around. But who knows what’ll happen with my parents? As for Uncle Brad’s other woman: I’ve never seen her, but Aunt Violet is pretty. She looks a lot like my mom, only younger. She’s fun, too.” 
“So, you think what? That Bonnie would’ve left you for somebody else years after you married?”
“I don’t know. I guess if she was destined to dump me it’d happen sometime. Becoming an official adult doesn’t seem to make people any more committed to each other, that’s for sure.” 
“Why is it,” Desiree said, “that while adults don’t act responsibly, they expect us to?”
“My mom thinks it might have something to do with hormones.”
“Seriously?” Desiree said. “Isn’t that what they’re always blaming crazy teenage behavior on?”
“That’s kind of the way my mom was leaning until I pointed out Uncle Brad’s conduct. She didn’t come right out and say she agreed with me, but I could tell she did. My grandparents seem totally stable, though.”
“Yeah,” Desiree said, “mine too. And look how long they’ve been married.” 

Chapter Eighteen
The next day at the shop, which was Friday, they stripped the rest of the frame bare and cleaned most of the parts. The axles were removed with the wheels on them and put aside. Kevin and Desiree helped load the body panels into the back of his grandfather’s pickup, since he was taking them to an auto-body shop. He brought along the grill/radiator shell, too, but it was going to another place for re-chroming. 
Grandpa paid them in cash and said the shop was closed until Monday. Of course Desiree would have to grass to cut at her grandparents as would Kevin at his, so it wasn’t like they were completely off duty. And if there was a wrecker call, he’d be helping with that, too. 
They decided to mow lawns on Saturday morning and get started with karate afterward. Kevin hadn’t worked out since he got there, even though he had intended to. He brought his karate uniform, or gi, with but hadn’t had it on yet. He decided their workouts would be about an hour, twice a week. Desiree decided they should have them every day but Sunday, and she was quite persuasive. But he insisted it couldn’t interfere with her piano practice or anything else important that came up, and she agreed. He also asked her to give him family history lessons, using the photo albums and anything else in his grandfather’s library that might help. 
After finishing his lawn work, he went over to Desiree’s grandparents’ house with his gi in a plastic grocery bag. She was just putting their lawn tractor away when he got there. She seemed really happy to see him, which made him feel so good that he almost forgot why he came over until she asked what she should wear. He suggested a T-shirt and loose pants. She went to her room to change, and he was offered use of the bathroom. 
He was outside her room when she came out. Where the necks of his T-shirts fit right up against his neck, hers had a much wider opening and were lower in both the front and the back. Her pants seemed little more than pajama bottoms. He suggested, since it was so nice out, that they use the back yard as their dojo. She started putting on her sneakers, and he said, “Barefoot, Desiree.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he affirmed. 
They picked a place in the sun, and he started her out on basic exercises followed by simple punches and kicks in the air. By the time they were done, he was pleased that he had made her sweat for a change, even if it was from exertion instead of nervousness. Afterward, her grandmother served them sandwiches and iced tea on the patio. 
“Are you practicing the piano this afternoon, Desiree?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll look through more of the family photo albums or something.”
“I thought I was doing that with you?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “but if you don’t have time, I understand.” 
She looked at him, raised her eyebrows and said, “I agreed to give you family history lessons in exchange for karate lessons. I guess I better make time, because I owe you.” 
He detected the hint of a smile that told him she wasn’t offering just because she owed him, but because she actually wanted to. 
“Besides,” she went on, “I’d like to see those old picture albums again. It’ll be fun. When you go home, ask your grandmother if I can come over for dinner tonight since you were here for lunch. We can start before supper, and continue afterwards unless we get tired and want to take a break and watch TV or something.”
Desiree came over at four, and they started at the first album. Even though he had gone through it before, she wanted to see it again. They brought the book over to the couch and sat alongside each other with the photo album in their laps. After breezing through it, he got the next one covering 1914–1919. 
Several more pictures of baby Alice were sprinkled throughout the volume, which Desiree thought were cute. But he found the shots and narrative of Alex’s involvement at Duesenberg, showing the progression of racing in general and Alexander Tchaikovsky in particular, more interesting. Great-great-grandpa Alex had been a race car builder and mechanic for the prestigious auto maker in 1914, and advanced to crew chief in time to prepare one of their entries for the season opener: the 1915 Indianapolis 500. 
Something happened that year, and he went to work for Stutz in Indianapolis. What wasn’t written down, Desiree had been told. “Somebody from Stutz stole Alex away from Duesenberg,” she said. “They offered him so much money that he didn’t think he could turn it down. He became their maestro of racing. It was the last car company he ever worked for. We’ll get to that later.” 
They made their way through the 1916 racing season, but then racing was suspended in 1917 because of World War I. During that time, Alex worked in the engineering department but was allowed to continue with research and planning for the racing program which resumed in 1919. It wasn’t until they finished that album and closed it that Kevin realized they weren’t just sitting next to each other. They were up against each other when his grandfather came into the room and announced it was time for dinner. 
At the dinner table Grandpa said, “Good news on the body panels. Everything is usable. They’re stripping them and doing the bodywork next week. Then they’ll put on the primer, base, and topcoats. After we put everything back on the car and get it lettered, they’ll clear-coat it. Say, kids, Keely and I were talking with Desiree’s grandparents ...”
Oh, boy. Now Kevin was nervous. His thoughts raced ahead as he imagined they somehow found out they were using the old skinny-dipping pool. Maybe they suspected they were actually going in there naked. 
“… and we don’t want you two working your summer away, so we think you ought to take another day off once in awhile. I think we can meet our schedule while giving you more free time.”
Kevin breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped no one—not even Desiree—noticed. 
“Keely was thinking maybe you might want to hitch a ride to Madison with her next week and see a movie, maybe go out to lunch.”
“There’s a nice mall with restaurants, a movie theater, and a good book store,” his grandmother added. “Maybe you could call ahead and see if they have that karate book you’re looking for.” 
Kevin looked at Desiree for her reaction. 
“That sounds like fun, Great-auntie Keely, thanks. Do you want to do it, Kev?”
“It does sound like fun. Sure.”
After dinner, they offered to do the dishes. But Grandma said she was just loading the dishwasher, so they went back to their studies. 
The next photo album covered 1920–1927. This one turned out to be more of a written journal supported by photographs. The first picture showed Alex in a shop full of trucks. Stutz quit racing after the 1919 season because new rules for the 1920 Indy 500 reduced the engine size allowed. Since the entire racing program was shut down, Alex lost his job. 
Duesenberg was angry with him for jumping ship, and they managed to have him unofficially black-balled. He couldn’t find a job at any other auto manufacturer. To feed his family, he took a job as a shop foreman maintaining a fleet of trucks. There was no prestige in that job and the pay was far less. The rest of the pictures were of the family. They all looked happy, and little Alice was getting really cute. A Christmas picture showed a boy at their apartment. Young Anthony Minetti, Maria’s youngest brother, had emigrated from Sicily and was living with them. Although barely a teenager, he had a dark and mysterious look to him. 
The first 1922 picture showed a smiling Alex in a brightly lit truck garage. He was offered a job at twice his previous salary as head of fleet maintenance for Cicero Bottling Works near Chicago. The next photo showed Alex and family at the dinner table in their spacious new apartment. They had invited Alex’s boss, Ralph Capone, over for dinner. 
“Hey, Kev,” his grandfather said. 
He hadn’t even heard him enter the room, and doubted Desiree had either. 
“If you don’t walk Desiree home pretty soon, I’ll have to give her a ride. I don’t want you out in the dark, either through the woods or on the road.”
“Okay, Grampa, we’ll go right now,” he said and shut the album. “We’ll pick this up another time, okay, Desiree?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. 
It was dusk, and they hurried through the woods toward her house. He didn’t stick around long, just said goodnight. The next day was Sunday, and they’d see each other then. 
That Sunday’s church service was less stressful and more enjoyable than the previous one. Dinner after was at the Johnson house, since they alternated. Kevin was much more composed than he had been last week. He felt almost normal—if he ever felt normal or even knew what that was—sitting next to Desiree at the dinner table. And it seemed like the grandparents were treating them as if they were a couple. He pretended, in his own mind, they were. 
Desiree had on a nice but simple cotton print dress. Instead of making her look plain, though—nothing could make Desiree look plain—the contrast of it accentuated her beauty, another reminder of how beyond him she was. On her feet were white and hemp open-toe shoes that his mother would call “cute.” To Kevin, they were platforms displaying perfectly painted nails on the perfect toes of perfectly formed feet beneath perfectly shaped ankles below what he could see of legs that he remembered were exquisite all the way up. It baffled him that such details could be provocative, but they were. And if that wasn’t enough, her shoes had three-inch heels whereas his dress shoe heals were about half-an-inch, so she towered over him by at least two-and-a-half inches. He hoped and prayed she didn’t think of him as a runt. Luckily, she brought along sneakers to wear on their trek back to her grandparents’ place to change after dinner. 
And after dinner, as they approached the path to the private beach, Desiree glanced back at him and asked, “Shall we?”
They hadn’t discussed the first time when they embarrassed themselves, and he worried that she would never chance it again. “I don’t want to gross you out again.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t gross me out.” 
“Really? I mean, that’s good.”
“But I think we each got an eyeful.”
“I did wear darker-colored underwear today,” Kevin shared, silently agreeing that they both had, indeed, gotten and given an eyeful.
“Me too,” she replied. “But I’m not sure that’ll be enough, so I have an idea that may prevent another … awkward situation.”
Kevin answered by raising his eyebrows in anticipation. 
“How about,” she continued, “when we’re done, you lead the way and go directly to your … changing room?”
Trying not to appear too excited, he nodded once, slowly. 
Desiree must have whipped that dress over her head in a second while kicking off her shoes, and walked by him while he was still working on his belt buckle. Before he got his pants off, she was already up to her neck in water, taunting him to hurry, laughing but not ridiculing. 
Once he joined her, he not only felt great but could tell that she did, too. She was so fun, bold, intuitive, and knock-out good-looking, even with only her head and shoulders above the water. Neither talked much, both seeming comfortable in the cool water, happily enjoying nature as they occasionally exchanged closed-lip smiles. 
He felt both blessed and doomed. Blessed that he was able to spend time alone, practically naked, with the most beautiful girl ever. Doomed because it would end as soon as either of them left. Doomed because he would remember those times always, whereas he would be a distant memory if she remembered him at all—the embarrassing, horny little boy she spent time with one summer.
He’d thought he was in love with Bonnie and had his heart broken by her. Now he wasn’t even in love—it takes two for that—he was just lovesick, and Desiree would stomp his heart flat. Not on purpose, she was too nice for that, but it was going to happen. When she gets back to civilization, wherever that is, it won’t be long before she had a real boyfriend—a man—tall, dark, and handsome. He won’t be good enough for her, probably a real jerk, but he would have more going for him than Kevin ever would. 
After they were done—their underwear wrung-out, and sitting back-to-back on the bench, Desiree using him for a backrest—she asked, “What’s going to happen to us … our friendship … when you have to go home, Kev?” 
“I don’t want to go home. I could stay here forever. I like working with my grandfather, I like working with you … and I really like being with you. Maybe I’ll try and stay. What about when you have to go home?”
“I’m not going anywhere for awhile. We’re kind of between homes right now, just like my mom is kind of between jobs. What would your parents say if they could see us now, Kev?”
“My mother would cry and my dad would scream,” he said, smiling. 
“My dad would cry and my mother would faint.” Desiree laughed. “Or would it be the other way around? 
“Kev?”
“Yeah?”
“Your girlfriend’s name was Bonnie, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d she break up with you?”
“She saw the newspaper article about what happened last Sunday. After reading about my lovely lady companion, she lost faith in me.” 
“So it was my fault?”
“No. Nobody’s fault,” he assured. “Except that big goon with the Corvette.” 
“Were you … in love with her?”
“I thought I was. But after my grandfather had a talk with me, I’d have to say no.”
“What did he say?”
“He said falling in love at first sight just doesn’t happen.” 
“It doesn’t?”
“He convinced me that it’s lust at first sight.”
“Lust?” 
“Unless you’d rather call it sexual attraction, but it’s really the same thing.”
“Sounds kind of … sleazy,” she said. 
“That was my first reaction, too. I asked him how you avoid it, and he said without a little lust some people who should get together and fall in love wouldn’t.” 
“How are you supposed to tell the difference?”
“It sounds kind of tricky,” he explained, “but I think you have to demonstrate your love as a friend in addition to the … attraction. If you have both, that’s love, according to my grandfather.” 
“That actually sounds reasonable. 
“Kev?”
“Yeah?” 
“You’re the best friend I ever had, and we’ve only known each other a week. I guess I had friends when I was a little kid, but after I started … maturing, I didn’t. In the last couple of years I’ve been too busy trying to take care of my mom, anyway. That and the piano. Without the piano, I probably would have gone crazy.”
Kevin turned his head as she turned hers, and they gave each other a one-eyed gaze. 
“Taking care of your mom?”
“With all of her drinking it was a struggle getting food in her, keeping her clean, and maintaining the house. It was awful. She was so hurt by my father’s betrayal that I think she was trying to drink herself to death. I felt so alone. Finally, I called my grandparents and yours and asked them to help me do one of those interventions. That was bad, too. She denied everything, forcing me to show the pictures I took of her and the house at the worst. I felt so guilty that I had to embarrass her like that, but what else could I do?”
He could feel her shaking, and then she started to sob. He wanted to turn around, hold her and comfort her, but thought better of it since they were practically naked. “Let’s get dressed, Desiree.”
She cried as he helped her into her dress, and continued as he got his pants and shirt on while she put on her shoes. When he got back to the bench she had tears on her cheeks, still crying but no longer sobbing. While he started slipping his shoes on, she said, “I’m such a crybaby. How can you stand me? It’s no wonder you want to leave.” 
“You’re not a crybaby. You’ve just been through more than a person should have to. I could stand being your friend for so many reasons even if I didn’t love you, but I do.”
There, he said it, instantly regretting having done so. He should have kept things going the way they were. He could have had maybe another seven weeks of bliss and built good memories to last the rest of his life, pretending they were a couple. How could he have blurted out that he loved her? She was too nice to ridicule him, but how could she maintain control after hearing his silly confession? She was too good for him. She was too good for anyone. He looked away, bracing for whatever would happen next. 
Desiree laughed as he hung his head in shame. 

Chapter Nineteen
Kevin decided to buck it up like a man and face the music. Desiree’s eyes were welling with tears. She was probably crying again because he was so pitiful. No, she somehow seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time. He probably caused her to go into shock. 
“You mean you love me like a friend, right?” she said. 
He had the perfect opportunity to salvage his dignity, but instead said, “That too, but I love you, respect you, and lust after you. I love you totally, Desiree.” 
“You’re just saying that to stop me from crying.”
“No, but if I had I don’t think it worked.”
She laughed again but had tears pouring down her cheeks. On one side they made it to the corner of her luscious lips. In a heartbeat she had her arms around him, her face alongside his, tears falling onto his shoulder. “I was so afraid to tell you how I felt, and so embarrassed that my feelings started out as lust. I’m so glad we became friends. I love you, too, Kev.” 
He couldn’t believe this. A short time ago he thought he was in love with his dream girl. Now he had the most beautiful girl on the planet in his arms. And not only was he sure that he loved her but that she loved him. But how? Why? Was this possible, or was he some kind of flake? “I was afraid, too, Desiree. I’m still afraid.” 
“How could you be afraid, Kev? You’re fearless.”
“I’m hardly fearless.”
“I saw you running right at that big truck. I saw you destroy that big man. You’re fearless, Kevin.”
“I was frightened almost out of my mind both times,” he confessed. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m just a little dweeb that got lucky.” 
“If you ever belittle yourself again,” she scolded, “I’ll refuse to speak with you forever.” 
He wasn’t certain that she really meant it, but if not she was doing a great acting job and it startled him. He remembered what his grandfather said about the definition of bravery, but still had a hard time thinking of himself as some sort of hero. Yet, his grandfather also ordered him never to put down his accomplishments. He felt more tears on his shoulder. 
“I can’t stop crying, Kev. I don’t know why, because I’m really happy.”
“You cry until you can’t cry anymore, Desiree. Don’t fight it,” he said and gently rocked, holding her. 
After they changed clothes, Desiree asked if he minded whether she played the piano for awhile. He told her he would love to listen but didn’t want to distract her, so he took off his shoes and reclined on the couch—out of sight but listening. While she lulled him to sleep with her beautiful music, he blew-off another NASCAR race, the one at Pocono, Pennsylvania. 
He awoke to the sound of silence with Desiree looking at him. Her expression reminded him of a mother looking at her sleeping child, but quickly changed to one of amusement. “I’m sorry I fell asleep, Desiree. Your music was so beautiful and soothing that I couldn’t help it.”
Her grandfather stepped into the room—Kevin was still on his back—and said, “D.B. and Keely said Desiree can have supper over there if you’d like to have her continue your family history lessons tonight, Kev. But make sure you have her back before dark,” he added and walked off, leaving them alone. 
“Do you, Kev?”
“I’d want you over even if it wasn’t for information. Did what I think happened this afternoon really happen, or was I dreaming the whole thing?” 
“Which part, Kev?” she said with a sly smile. “The part where you confessed to lusting after me?”
“How about proclaiming my love for you?”
“Do you recall us kissing?” she asked. 
“You might have to jog my memory, Desiree.” 
He was still on his back as she sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over, pressing her breasts against him. He couldn’t dream of a more sensuous kiss, and predicted many cold showers in his future. They didn’t kiss long, though, because they, at least he, didn’t feel comfortable making-out in her grandparents living room when they could pop back in at any time. Besides, they did have to get back and resume his lessons. 
This time when they hit the trail, Desiree made him lead the way, except for places wide enough to walk alongside each other so they could hold hands. It amazed him that she could get pleasure from looking at his skinny little butt, although he’d have to admit that it made him feel good. 
His grandparents were in the kitchen when they walked in. By the looks on their faces, they knew more about them than he felt comfortable with. It wasn’t a disapproving look, though, more like a knowing one. He wondered how his parents will react. Grandpa was looking up from his laptop and Grandma from her book. They must have been sitting together in silence while each did their own thing. The thought struck him that they’d probably been doing similar things for sixty years. He supposed they must have done things together much of the time, too. 
“We heard you had a nice little nap while Desiree tickled the ivory, Kev,” Grandpa said and smiled. “I wonder if she’ll fall asleep some day when you’re watching a NASCAR race?”
“When do you watch NASCAR races?” Desiree asked Kevin. 
“They’re usually on TV Sundays, but I’ve missed the last two.”
“Was there one today?”
“It just got over awhile ago,” Grandpa said. “I was watching it while Keely read, and now I’m planning our work week. Monday and Tuesday we’ll work in the shop. Wednesday you two get the day off for your adventure in Madison. Thursday the three of us will deliver parts to a sandblaster, powder-coater guy.”
“What’s powder coat, Uncle Don?”
“It’s a durable paint used on frames and many other chassis parts. It’s more common on motorcycles than cars, but I’ve decided it’s the way to go for our application.”
“What are you going to do when we’re in Madison, Grampa?” Kevin asked.
“I might go for a motorcycle ride since everybody else will be goofing off.” He smiled. “I have legal papers to file for Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. You three will probably be back before I am.”
“Kev and I are continuing on our journey through the family secrets,” Desiree said. “My grandmother said you didn’t mind feeding me again tonight. I hope I’m not wearing out my welcome.”
“Don’t be silly, dear,” Kevin’s grandmother said. “We love having you over, and so does Kevin.” 
Grandma smiled a smile that told him she was no fool. Grandpa’s eyes met his briefly, and then went back to his laptop. Kevin and Desiree went to the den and office area, removed the 1920–1927 photo album and brought it back to the couch. Sitting close was starting to feel natural, and touching became the norm. 
They were back in 1922. Alex and his family had Ralph Capone over for dinner. 
When Alex started working for Cicero Bottling Works, he had no idea it was owned by the Chicago Mob, at that time headed by Johnny Torrio with Al Capone as his protégé. Ralph was down the ladder from his younger brother Al, but had important work to do for “The Outfit” since ginger ale, soda water, and other soft drinks were needed for mixed drinks with their bootleg liquor. Alexander suspected the large pay wasn’t offered for nothing, but after learning the truth he wasn’t bothered by his involvement. 
In addition to great pay, his working conditions were good, and he didn’t have to grovel with cheap bosses for tools and equipment. In fact, he was expected to use the best as breakdowns were frowned upon. If Alex needed more help, all he had to do was ask. He got good workers, too. His bosses treated him with respect, plus he thought prohibition was stupid. Alex was a happy, productive, and loyal worker. He didn’t wear a pinstriped suit to work, and he didn’t carry a gun, but he became acquainted with many drivers and the men who rode shotgun when the trucks hauled beer and liquor. 
Ralph must have told his younger brother about the skills possessed and extensive résumé of their truck maintenance chief, because Al had Ralph set up a meeting with Alex to inquire about what it would take to get involved in racing. Al had expensive tastes and an eye for fast cars, so owning a race car to compete against those owned by captains of industry was an attraction he couldn’t resist. 
Alex found a second in command to take over most of his duties in the maintenance shop, and began building Big Al’s one-driver race team. Torrio, being less flamboyant than his protégé, urged Al to keep a low profile. Al agreed and quietly went racing with his mentor’s blessing. 
Big Al had his heart set on starting the 1924 Indy 500 with an experienced driver in a Duesenberg, but when the Duesenbergs heard that Alexander was trying to buy a race engine from them they declared an embargo. No Duesenberg parts would be sold to Alexander Tchaikovsky, so he convinced Big Al that the Miller race engine in a Miller chassis was the first class way to go, anyhow. Al always liked first class. While Alex prepared the car over the winter, Al had one of his men scout for a driver. 
Kevin was amazed at some of the pictures. Although there were none of Al at the Tchaikovsky apartment, there were several of him posing in the race car shop with Alex and the car. “Did Al Capone bring a photographer with him, or what?” 
“One of his bodyguards most likely took the pictures,” Desiree replied. “Ask your grandfather. He knew Alex better than anybody. Alex helped D.B. build his hot rod, you know.”
“What hot rod?” he asked. 
“I’m sure he still has it. That’s most likely what’s under that nice car cover in the storage area. Maybe we can get him to show it to us tomorrow.” 
“Hey, you two lovebirds,” Grandpa said, “time for dinner.” 
They looked at each other, startled. 
“I might be an old man,” he declared, “but I’m not stupid.” 
After supper, Kevin learned that Big Al’s race car debuted at the 1924 Indy 500, handled by an experienced driver, and was running eleventh when a crack developed in the fuel tank and he dropped out, finishing in twentieth position. They ran several more races that year, slowly and steadily improving, but their best finish was fifth. Al knew they could do better. He had the racing bug. 
Johnny Torrio was nearly assassinated early in 1925, and turned control of the operation over to Al who continued his low profile regarding the race team, amending it to just about everything else to avoid attempts on his life. 
While preparing for the 1925 Indy 500, their driver resigned and turned up working for the Duesenbergs. The clandestine Capone team, operating as Tchaikovsky Racing, struggled to find a substitute driver. They finally did, and finished running in thirteenth place while the Duesenbergs won the race with their old driver. 
Their racing season continued dismally as their driver frequently wrecked, tearing up cars. Al kept a steady supply of cars and equipment coming, but Alex became weary and finally convinced him that they needed a better driver. Not necessarily older and more experienced, but hungry to make a name for himself. Al charged Alex with finding the man who would begin driving for them at the 1926 Indianapolis 500. 
Alex didn’t sleep much during 1925 since he was busy in the shop, at the track, and also looking for a driver. The Duesenbergs must have poisoned his name far and wide, and he soon realized that he needed to search outside his normal racing circle. He also became paranoid, had the feeling he was being watched. His suspicions were confirmed and yet his fears allayed when he was assigned a Packard Eight sedan with driver. The driver had been Alex’s secret bodyguard but turned out to be more of a personal assistant, making sure he got enough rest and nourishment. The crew chief and his genteel gunman hit the road hunting for talent at every small-time race track they could find. With the Capone intelligence network, they had an endless list to work with. 
One Saturday afternoon they were sitting in the grandstands at a ¼ mile dirt track near Milwaukee, expecting to see the usual collection of hard drivers banging into each other, seemingly to run their opponents off the track and be the last one running. While the melee ensued during the first series of heat races, a relatively clean-looking 1921 Hudson avoided contact by going wherever other cars weren’t. Its driver wasn’t timid, however, as he never seemed to back off the throttle. Instead of bashing his opponents, he weaved around them, not slowing and not wasting time on battle. “This man,” Alex wrote, “is a real driver, not a gladiator.” They found him in the pits after he captured a close second place. The fair-haired and boyishly handsome young man’s name was Paul Johnson. 
Desiree turned the page, and what Kevin saw startled him. There was a picture of Paul Johnson, and he did look like him. That’s what his father said, and what his grandfather hinted at—upon seeing the private detective’s picture—but now it became real to him. 
“Look familiar, Kev?” she asked. 
“He’s got to be older than me in that picture, and he looks more … daring or something. I’m betting he was taller, too.” 
“He looks a little older because he was twenty-one, but you look exactly like him. Now you know where you got your dreamy looks.” 
Kevin’s mouth hung open as he looked at her. Finally he said, “You think he’s … good looking?” 
“Yeah. Just like you, Kev,” she said and smiled. 
“I always thought I was … kinda dweeby.” 
“Remember,” she said, touching a finger to his chest, “I never, ever want to hear you talk about yourself that way again. Got it?”
He nodded. 
“Okay,” she went on, “your great-grandfather, who you look exactly like, was reported to be quite the ladies’ man. That is before he went to prison.” 

Chapter Twenty
Kevin was walking to the shop with his grandfather after breakfast on Monday morning when he noticed that the air seemed cleaner and crisper. It had turned cooler and, unless the weather changed, he doubted that he and Desiree would be taking a dip that day. Instead of waiting for her inside the back door, he went outside and walked toward the trail to meet her just in time to see her walking briskly toward him. 
Desiree’s beautiful face seemed to almost glow when she spotted him, returning his smile. “Good morning, Kev. I’m glad you’re anxious to see me. How’s your outlook on life today?”
“Great, Desiree.” He took her by the hand as they made their way to work. 
“Today,” Grandpa said, “we’re taking the wheels off, disassembling the brakes, and seeing what we can salvage after cleaning it all up. If we have time after lunch, we’ll start on the springs, spindles, and axles. Tomorrow we’ll get to the rear end gears and, time permitting, take a peek inside the transmission.” 
They got to work, broke for lunch, and worked right up to Grandpa’s mandated three o’clock cutoff time. Kevin and Desiree then rushed off to practice karate. Last Saturday, Desiree’s grandmother told Kevin to leave his gi there, and it was freshly laundered as he suspected it would be every time he went to put it on. 
He kissed Desiree goodbye at four-thirty. She said she had practiced the piano one hour before work today, and would do another hour after showering. After supper, she was coming over to resume their travels through the family archives. Even if it would have been warm enough outside, they didn’t have time for a dip. 
After supper, he couldn’t wait so he went outside to meet her. But she rounded the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage building before he made it that far. Once again, they walked hand-in-hand back to the house and went directly to their studies, waylaid briefly when his grandmother greeted Desiree. Once situated on the couch, his lovely instructor brought them back in time. 
Kevin learned that Alex offered to “sponsor” Paul Johnson, because one showing wasn’t enough to convince him that he had another Barney Oldfield in his sights. Alex and his bodyguard watched Paul race, and met with him as often as possible. One day, he told Paul he was crew chief of a race team that competed against “the big boys,” but didn’t go into details. By the end of summer, Alex was convinced that Paul was the real deal and recommended to Al that they offer him the job, which he knew the young man would accept. 
Alex invited Paul to Chicago, put him up in a hotel, gave him a tour of the workshop, and invited him home for dinner afterward. He was not to meet Al Capone; not yet. Alex wrote that Paul seemed impressed with their small but clean shop and, after being invited to sit in a real race car, the young man had a look in his eyes that told Alex he was as good as theirs. Still, Paul played it cool and had dinner with Alexander and his family that evening—wife Maria, sixteen year old brother-in-law Tony, and eleven-year-old daughter Alice. 
There was a picture of Alice that must have been from around that time. Like Desiree, Kevin’s great-grandmother had long, dark, healthy-looking hair. She was bonier, obviously not as well developed as Desiree, but of course she was only eleven years old at the time. 
Paul accepted the job. Al was delighted and told Alex to get him behind the wheel so he’d have plenty of practice with a real race car before the next Indy 500. That fall, after the regular racing season had ended and their old driver was released, Alexander took Paul and one of their straightened-out old cars south to a shut-down race track that Al rented for them. It was a dirt track, but had been groomed by a grader so its surface was smooth. The car had been geared for the smaller track, and Alex worked with his young driver for hours at a time. And he discovered that Paul wasn’t just a great wheel-man. He could feel what the car was doing and describe it to him, which helped the master crew chief make the adjustments needed for Paul to speed around the track quicker and quicker. 
A room was rented for Paul near the garage, and he hung around the shop almost every day that winter. But he didn’t just take up space; Paul learned everything he could about big-time racing and the cars. And Alex had plenty of time to fit the steering wheel, pedals, and seat to suit him perfectly. The new car was completed ahead of schedule, so they brought the old practice car to another rented race track in Texas. It was a bigger track than the one they used in the fall, allowing Paul to experience higher speeds in the powerful, lightweight racer. 
His 1926 debut at Indianapolis was a wild one as he dodged accidents and weaved through traffic. At one point, he got into fifth position before a broken valve ended his day. Although not running at the end, he was credited with twenty-second place. But Alex knew that not all was lost. Paul had adapted well to the big, high-speed, brick paved track. Alex assured Big Al that he’d keep Paul busy racing throughout the year, and guaranteed him a win somewhere. They hit the county fairs, and were oftentimes gone for weeks on end. 
Alex’s promises to his boss were fulfilled as Paul began carrying the checkered flag in almost half the races they entered. The press began hyping him as “Throttle Johnson” because he never seemed to get enough of a wide open throttle. Wanting to experience the satisfaction of seeing his own racer in victory lane, Big Al sometimes traveled incognito to distant tracks, sat in the grandstands with the masses as dirt was thrown at them from the cars. Satisfied after watching his driver kiss a couple of race track queens, Capone decided to attend only paved or board tracks. But after hearing about flying wood splinters, he chose to skip the board tracks, too. 
When not at a race track, Paul would often go to the shop and help Alex. He wasn’t too good to actually work, unlike many of the prima donna drivers of the day. They became close, and if Paul wasn’t out with one of his flashy lady friends he dined at the Tchaikovsky household. Young Alice was smitten by the older man, and soon became a regular visitor at the garage. Not wanting her little girl out walking alone, Maria asked her brother Tony to escort her. Paul knew she had a crush on him, was sensitive toward her feelings, and did his best to treat her respectfully without encouraging her. 
While Alice watched her father and Paul, Tony got to know some of the Capone guards. At sixteen, he was mature beyond his years. When Alice went back to school in the fall, Tony went to work riding shotgun on liquor trucks. Maria was furious and kicked him out. But soon she realized that banishing him would only make matters worse, so she relented and invited him back in to their family and their spacious apartment. At the same time, Alice confessed to her mother that she was in love with Paul. Alex wrote that Maria was mortified. 
“Are you two about ready to wrap it up for the night?” Kevin’s grandfather asked. 
“Already?” Kevin said.
“Yeah, time flies. Where are you at now?”
“I think the end of 1926,” he replied. 
“You’re getting into the good part. Or perhaps I should say the devastating part. You’ll probably finish that volume tomorrow night,” Grandpa said.
While walking Desiree home, Kevin asked, “How old was my great-grandmother when she thought she was in love with my great-grandfather?” 
“Ummm. Twelve.”
“Twelve? That’s ridiculous.”
“She was the first of the known young romantics in your family, Kev. You’ll see how real it all was.”
He must have given her a skeptical look, because she said, “I’m not kidding, Kev. And just remember: we might face the same kind of ridicule. We’re not that much older than she was.”
“Yeah, but at least we’re both going on fifteen. She was twelve, and Paul was twenty-one.”
“By the time we’re done, I think you’ll agree that it’s the most wonderful love story you’ve ever heard.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously, Kev.”
They went on without saying much more, and kissed goodnight outside her grandparents’ door. Desiree wrapped her arms around him, and he wrapped his around her. Unlike with Bonnie, he didn’t instinctively try feeling her up. He just wanted her to hold him and kiss him, in turn offering the same, trusting that for now it would be enough. The more he thought about it the more he doubted that his great-grandparents lived the greatest love story, because he and Desiree must have one even greater. 
He walked home in the twilight, wondering if he’d ever get a letter from his parents. Grandpa told him it’d probably take two or three weeks to get mail from them. He decided to check his email when he got back, just in case they found access to a computer and the internet. 
His grandparents were watching television in the den when he returned. 
“Get your sweetie home alright, Kev,” Grandpa asked. They both looked at him with pleasant expressions. 
“Safe and sound. I can’t believe how fast the day went by. Say, you didn’t get any mail from my mom and dad yet, did you?”
“No, sir,” Grandpa said. “When we do you’ll be the first to know.”
“I think I’ll check my email in case they managed to send something that way.”
Once over at the desk, he switched on the computer and let the anti-virus program go through its thing. Then he logged onto the internet and his email account. He had a message from Brian. 
Kev,
Hope things are going well for you. We’re still staying at the grandparents’ house, and I kind of hope it stays that way. The next-door neighbors have a swimming pool and a cute thirteen year old daughter named Alicia to go with it. The best part is I have an open invitation since she likes me, and is she built or what! The bad part is her mom is always around, so we’re constantly supervised. But it’s still fun. I’m waiting to hear if you and Bonnie have managed to get together, and what else you’re doing out there. 
Brian
Kevin decided to write his reply before going to bed, even though tired, which he attributed to emotional exhaustion. 
Brian,
Glad to hear you’re having fun. As for Bonnie and me, we’re history. My grandfather has a towing and salvage business, and you’ll never believe what we’re doing in our spare time: restoring a 1927 Miller Indy 500 car that is just like the one my great-grandfather drove. No kidding. I have an unbelievable second cousin that’s working on it, too. 
I owe you a big one for helping me with karate. A guy who had his car towed—on orders from the sheriff, by my grandfather and me—came to the shop a week ago yesterday demanding the car’s immediate release. While my second cousin called my grandfather on the phone, I asked the guy to have a chair. He got mad at me, grabbed me by the throat, and was going to punch me. And man was he big. I kicked him with both feet to the groin and followed up by breaking his nose with the heel of my right hand. I knocked him out and tied him up with lamp cords until the cops arrived. A newspaper interviewed me, and I gave you credit for coaching me. Thank you, Brian. 
Kev
That night, Kevin dreamt he and Desiree were living at their secret cove near the skinny-dipping pool, like Adam and Eve. Of course they were naked, but he didn’t get a chance to check-out her body because he couldn’t take his eyes off her beautiful face. He did remember that she had a flower in her hair on one side, though. 
Kevin had awakened before his alarm clock had gone off, and took a cold shower before breakfast. After breakfast, they went to the shop. 
He’d seen cutaway examples of rear-end differential gears being explained by NASCAR commentators on TV before, but now he was seeing the real thing. They had drained the grease out, Grandpa had pulled the axles, and they removed the assembly from the axle housing. “We’re lucky,” Grandpa said, “because whoever put the old racer up on blocks also completely filled the rear end with gear grease. There’s no rust at all, and I don’t think anything seems worn. That’s really good news. All we’ll have to do is flush this out, put new grease in, and clean and paint the housing.”
“Why do they call that stuff grease, Uncle Don? It looks more like thick oil, but it smells terrible.” 
Desiree had been invited away from her desk to take a look. 
“It’s nasty stuff, all right,” Grandpa said. “Why they call it grease, I have no idea. Maybe so nobody accidently uses oil instead. The carrier bearings in here look good, too,” he proclaimed. “Tomorrow, when you two are out playing around, I’m going to see if I can find new axle bearings and modern seals that’ll fit. I’d really rather not have the rear axle assembly and transmission cases sandblasted. Too much risk of getting sand inside. And if we take everything out to do it, it’ll be a big job cleaning the sand out. Kev, I think I’ll put you to work with a wire wheel and a drill, and maybe a dremmel tool after we button everything up to protect the openings. It looks like we can add the wheels, backing plates, and front axle to the pile we’re taking to town on Thursday. I bet we’ll have the rear end, and possibly the transmission, ready for paint by Friday.” 
After work, Kevin and Desiree went directly to her grandparents’ house and practiced karate. She knew enough by then to be introduced to a simple kata—set of choreographed moves—and they went through it a few times after warming up. 
Right after he changed out of his gi and was about to head home, Desiree’s grandfather stopped him and said they needed to talk. Kevin looked at Desiree and, by her puzzled expression, could tell she had no idea what it was about, but he sounded serious. She said she’d wait for him in the kitchen while they went into what looked like an office, and Great-uncle Peter shut the door. 
“Please sit down,” Kevin’s grandfather’s childhood buddy said. He sat in the desk’s swivel chair and Kevin in a straight-back chair alongside the desk, Great-uncle Peter looking at him sternly. 
He could tell by Great-uncle Peter’s demeanor that he would be doing the talking and Kevin would be doing the listening. 
“First of all, I want you to know we really like you and we’re proud of you, too. I know you and Desiree are in love, and that’s great, but you’re both so young that you need to be especially careful. You know what I mean by careful, Kevin?”
“I think so, sir.” He couldn’t imagine how he knew they were in love, doubting that Desiree told him. Was it that obvious? 
Great-uncle Peter opened a desk drawer, took something out, and told Kevin to hold out his hand. He complied, and Great-uncle Peter palmed the object in his hand. With his hand gripping Kevin’s, he said, “Giving you this is not authorization to use it.” Then he let go and pulled his hand away. 
There was a square plastic wrapper in Kevin’s hand. It was a condom. He was about to deny the need for it, but Great-uncle Peter said, “I don’t want to hear any rhetoric about how you’ll never need it. I hope you don’t for a long time. In fact, I don’t want you two going at it until you’re married, which in the grand scheme of things probably won’t be that far off, so try and hold out. But if you can’t, you use that or I’ll punch your lights out, karate or no karate. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir, Great-uncle Peter.” He remembered the story Desiree told him about how he gave both a similar talk and a rubber to his grandfather sixty years ago. 
“Good.” Great-uncle Peter said, nodding. “I also don’t think you should have kids until you graduate … with masters’ degrees. But who knows? I’ll probably be dead by then, so I have mixed feelings about that. Now I don’t want you telling Desiree you’ve got that thing. If you two start talking about it, it’ll just be a matter of time. Having said that, if you need more your grandfather is putting the other two that came in the box with this one in your top dresser drawer. If they disappear, he’ll replace them. Put it in your wallet, and remember not to tell Desiree. Okay?”
“She’ll want to know what we talked about, and we don’t lie to each other, Great-Uncle Peter.” 
“You tell her I wanted to make sure you always treat her with respect, because that’s really what I’m telling you. She’s had a hard time of things for the last couple years, and I don’t want anything happening to her. Okay?”
“Yes, sir, Great-uncle Peter.”
“Okay, good. We’ll never speak of this again. And, Kev, just call me Uncle Peter.” 
“All right, sir … Uncle Peter. Thank you,” he said, and with shaky fingers took out his wallet and found a hiding place for the condom. He put his wallet back, was clapped on the shoulder with a firm hand, and they got up and left the room. 
Desiree looked sullen, like she was waiting to see what had happened to her buddy in the principle’s office. Instead of kissing goodbye on the porch, she walked with him to the path. When they were away from the house, she asked, “So, what was that about, Kev?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
She gasped and laughed. “He gave you the Donny Boy Talk, didn’t he?”
“He made me promise not to talk about it. Told me to tell you he wanted to make sure I’ll always treat you with respect.”
They were far enough away so they were out of sight from the house. 
“He did! And he gave you a rubber, too, didn’t he?”
“He thinks if you knew he gave me such a thing, and that we talked about it, we’d be more likely to … use it.”
“Let me see it,” she demanded greedily. 
“No. I promised.” 
Desiree laughed. “Did he threaten to beat you up if you knocked me up?”
Kevin said nothing. 
“He did. Oh, what a dear, sweet old man my grandfather is. Don’t you think, Kev?”
“Yeah, but I’m not breaking my word and talking about it. And he told me to just call him Uncle Peter. 
Desiree put an arm around his waist and pulled him closer as they walked.
“Are you coming over now, Desiree?” 
“Yeah, I’m invited for supper again,” she replied. “I hope you aren’t too grossed out by my body odor. I didn’t get a chance to shower after we worked out. I suppose we could always … take a dip,” she toyed. “You could use one, too,” she added, wrinkling her nose. 
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea today. I thought you were going to practice the piano this afternoon?”
“I decided your history … and romance lessons were more important, so I’m taking the rest of the day off. I practiced an hour this morning before work, so it’s not like I’m totally sloughing off. C’mon, Kev,” she said, and un-tucked his shirt. “It’s not that cold out. Please? I promise to behave,” she said with as much mock innocence as she could muster. 
They were in the water, just far enough apart so they couldn’t reach out and touch each other, when Desiree said, “I dreamt about you last night, Kev.”
“I dreamt about you, too,” he admitted. 
“Yeah? What was I wearing?”
“Nothing, actually.”
“Kevin!” she admonished, unable to stifle a delightful grin. 
“We were living down here … kind of like Adam and Eve.” 
“Oh, my,” she said, still smiling. 
“But I never got to see … all of you because I couldn’t take my eyes off your beautiful face.”
“Oh, Kevin, you’re so adorable. Can I come over and hug you?”
“No! Please, not like this.”
“Oh, come on. You couldn’t possibly get … hot,” she said, flicking her eyebrows and giving him an alluring look, “in this cold water. Could you?” she added as a wistful, almost innocent afterthought. 
Her eyes were wide open. She hadn’t a clue. That little hint of naivety from his world-wizened beauty both amused and emboldened him. “Want to know a secret?”
“Of course,” she cooed, “I love secrets.”
“Although the cold water tends to … dampen things, whenever I’m around you I have a hard—” 
“A hard-on?” Desiree cut in, bemused. “I can’t believe you said that.” 
“That’s not what I—”
“But I guess it’s better than stiffy, woody, or boner,” she again interrupted. “Especially boner. And I don’t like those gender specific ‘C’ words for genitalia,” she went on, “or having them used in any other context for that matter. Nor do I appreciate indiscriminate use of the ‘F’ word, or talk about banging, boning, or screwing a girl.” 
“You’ll never hear them from me,” Kevin vowed, his bravado long gone, face reddening. “But what I was trying to say is that I have a hard—” 
Desiree’s eyebrows shot up and her head jolted back.
Kevin held up a hand, pointing an index finger to emphasize that he had the floor, so to speak. “Make that difficult time,” he corrected, “not being stimulated when we’re together.” 
“Now that sounds more like the Kevin I know and love,” she replied.
“Huh?”
“Means the same thing, only sugar coated just like you. You’re so sweet.”
“Yeah, but—” 
“I’ve seen the evidence. Remember?”
How could he forget? Now he was beyond embarrassed, and it showed. 
“I’m sorry, Kev. I ought to be more thoughtful and avoid tormenting you,” she said with mock seriousness. “Maybe I should wear one of those burka things like the Muslim women wear,” she grinned. 
“Very funny. You can’t even wear coveralls without adding your own touch and looking sexy.”
“That reminds me of my dream,” she said excitedly. “Still want to hear it?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, relieved to be onto a different topic. 
“You were driving a race car, I was your crew chief, and your grandfather was helping me. You were wearing a sexy driving suit, too.” 
“What kind of race car?”
“I don’t know,” she said, head wavering. “It was cute, though, and the same color as your grandfather’s hot rod, only it was smaller and had roll bars.”
“That’s right,” he said, remembering. “I was going to ask if we could see the hot rod today, and I spaced it out. Let’s continue talking on the bench so we can dry off and get dressed. Maybe if we get back early enough he’ll show it to us. I’ve got a key to the shop, but we better get permission first.”
He walked out of the pool first, and kept going until on the other side of the bushes. Even though nobody but them was ever there, he looked around before taking off his boxers, wrung them out, put them back on, and waited for Desiree to give him the okey-dokey. By the time he walked back in sight, she was sitting on the bench sideways with her knees up by her chest, feet on the bench, arms wrapped around her knees. He sat with his back against hers, one leg on each side of the bench, both feet on the ground.
“Any news from your folks, Kev?”
“No. Heard from your mother lately?”
“Yeah. She called and said she misses me and is sorry for everything. Of course I’ve heard that many times before. Drunks are like that: all filled with remorse when they’re sober. I hope she can stay that way this time, Kev.”
“You said she’s been through treatment before, right?”
“Yeah, but not like this. Now she’s confined twenty-four seven in a long-term program. We’re supposed to go visit her and have some sort of joint meeting with an alcohol counselor on Saturday. I’d ask you to ride with, but you couldn’t come into the meeting.”
“How long will it take?”
“The meeting? Half an hour. Want to come with? If we get that karate book tomorrow, you could bring it with to kill time while waiting.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. Where is it?”
“Madison.”
“You ever talk to your dad?” he asked and turned his head. 
Desiree mirrored his movement and said, “He calls once in awhile. Sometimes he mails me money, like that’s supposed to mean something. After what’s happened to my mom, sometimes I wish he never existed.”
“Not me.” 
They locked into a one-eyed stare.
“You’ve never even met him. What could you care?”
“I’m grateful that he was with your mom long enough for you to be born. And it was a good thing for your mother that he was around until you were grown-up enough to take care of her.” 
“Yet another reason to love you, Kev.”
“Huh?”
 “Just when I think you couldn’t possibly get any sweeter, you do. I’m using that one on my mom. Maybe it’ll help her get beyond this thing.”
“What? You’re going to tell her that I’m sweet and you love me?”
“Eventually I’ll get around to that, too. You know what I mean. Let’s get dressed and see if your grandfather will let us see the old hot rod.”
Hand-in-hand they walked up the steps, along the porch, and into the kitchen. Grandma was working on something at the counter, probably supper related, and Grandpa was at the table with his laptop. 
“You know that guy you beat-up, Kev?”
“Yeah.”
“I just got off the phone with his agent and his attorney. Turns out he’s a professional football player, a hot-shot fullback. Name’s Andy Baldacci. Ever heard of him?”
“I’m not much of a football fan, Grampa.”
“They call him Outrageous Andy.”
“Figures,” Kevin replied.
“Anyway,” Grandpa went on, “they’re trying to get us to drop the charges. Since your grandmother and I are your legal guardians while your folks are out of the country, I’m the one who filed the charges, and I’d have to be the one to drop them. But I’ll do it any way you want.” 
“Why would we want to drop the charges?”
“They’re serious, and if he gets convicted of a felony he’ll be suspended from the league. His lawyer said he’ll move to have the trial out of the area because jurors around here might be biased by the press.”
“But that newspaper was in Madison. That’s already pretty far away, don’t you think?”
“They’ll try to move it further away than that because lots of people outside of Madison read that paper. They offered money if we drop the charges. Are you sure your throat and neck didn’t get damaged?”
“I’m fine, Grampa. How much did they offer?”
“Ten grand.”
“I bet you’re thinking an out of town trial will mess up our schedule, right?”
“It probably would, but I want you to do whatever you think is right. If we don’t get the Baby Grand done before you go home, I guess it’s not the end of the world.”
Kevin looked at Desiree, and then back at Grandpa and asked, “Are you supposed to call them back?”
“Yeah, by five tomorrow.”
“Tell them we’ll drop the charges if he apologizes to Desiree in public, like in front of reporters, and agrees to go to counseling. He has to say that in front of the reporters, too.”
“What does he have to apologize to me for, Kev?” Desiree asked. 
“For frightening you, traumatizing you.”
“I don’t mind anymore,” she claimed. 
“I do,” he insisted. “It’s only right, and you know it.”
Grandpa looked at his watch and said, “I’ll call them and tell them right now, and I’ll tell them they have until five tomorrow to get back to us.”
“Desiree told me about your old hot rod, Grampa. Could we have a look at it while you’re on the phone?”
Grandpa paused a moment, and then said, “I wasn’t going to show you that until we completed the Baby Grand. I was afraid of getting sidetracked, but go ahead. Be careful removing the cover, though, and don’t let it touch the ground. Roll it up and put it on the right side of the workbench. We’ll cover it back up another day.”
They removed that cover, oh, so carefully, and did with it as Grandpa said, didn’t even look the car over until they had. When they went back, Kevin stopped about ten feet from the deep-blue Ford coupe, just taking it in. After a moment, he asked, “Know what year it is, Desiree?”
“Nineteen-thirty something. I’m not sure. I do know that your grandfather and his grandfather started building it when Uncle Don was fourteen. I think he said it was 1949.”
“Sixty years ago! Hey, that’s when they got engaged, too. He was busy that year.”
Desiree moved closer, put an arm around his waist and pulled him against her. “We’re kind of busy this year, too, huh?” she said, smiling demurely. 
They stood in that one spot, silently looking at the car for five minutes before beginning to walk around it. He noticed a large bologna-sliced exhaust pipe just below the running-board, in front of the rear tire. When they made it to the other side he saw another one. “Duel exhaust. I bet it’s got a V-8, Desiree. I wonder how big the motor is?”
“Two hundred and fifty-five cubic inches,” his grandfather said. “That’s approximately 4.2 liters in today’s goofy lingo. Got it out of a brand new wrecked 1949 Mercury. I worked in the salvage yard, taking off parts and whatever else I could do to pay for it.”
“I didn’t even hear you come in, Grampa.”

Chapter Twenty-One
“I’m wearing my sneakers,” Grandpa said. “Hope I didn’t startle you. After I got off the phone with that agent guy, I thought I better report in. I told him your terms, and he balked. I told him the apology and pledge to get therapy are non-negotiable. He said they’d do it but then they’d only pay $5,000, and they would arrange the press conference. I got a little angry and said fifteen thousand, and we’d arrange for the press. I told him to call me by five tomorrow or forget about it. I was going to hang up when he said, ‘Wait. We’ll give you $20,000, but we need to make the arrangements. We guarantee satisfaction at the end of the news conference regarding the apology and the commitment to seek counseling. Then we’ll give you the check for twenty grand on the condition you drop the charges.’ I told him ‘Yeah.’ 
“Then he said, ‘Oh, there’s one more thing: my client’s attorney needs you to sign a release saying you won’t sue over any possible damages done by our client.’ I replied, ‘I don’t know. Maybe I better consult my attorney and get back to you tomorrow.’ He said, ‘Wait. I’m authorized to offer up to $50,000, but that’s the limit.’ I accepted. You think that’s good enough?”
“Good enough?” Kevin said. “I thought we’d forgo the money for the apology and the agreement for therapy. I mean, the guy needs to get a grip. We’re getting fifty grand plus everything else? That’s terrific!”
“No, not we,” Grandpa said, wagging a finger. “You’re getting fifty grand, Desiree’s getting an apology, and that ‘Outrageous’ guy is getting therapy. I’m sure the agent and the lawyer are getting a piece of the action, complements of their hot-headed client, too.” 
“Don’t you want a fee for negotiating, Grampa?”
He smiled and said, “No, your grandmother and I have enough to suit us. Save it for when you find a good use for it, but don’t spend it all at once. Did you sit in my old car yet?”
“No, sir. We were afraid to touch it.”
He smiled again and said, “Go ahead. Open the doors, get in, and roll down the window so we can talk.”
While Kevin got behind the wheel, Desiree walked around and climbed in the passenger seat. He was really surprised that it had leather upholstery. “What year is it, Grampa?”
“1937. Lots of improvements over a stock one, but it’s crude by today’s standards.”
“What do you mean?”
“This one is the Deluxe Club Coupe, meaning it has a nicer interior, plus a back seat and a heater. Then I had it reupholstered. I already told you about the ‘49 Merc engine, but it has speed equipment and was massaged by the best tuner I ever knew: my grandfather. It has a two-and-a-half inch dropped front axle, hydraulic shock absorbers, and hydraulic brakes from a ’39 Lincoln. It’s sitting on fifteen-inch Buick rims with Lincoln centers, welded together by Alex himself.” 
“Is it fast?” Kevin asked.
“It was in its day, but your grandmother’s Mustang would run away and hide from it. It’s a lot lighter than the Mustang, though,” he said, pondering. “It’d probably stick with the Mustang until a hundred or so,” he finally concluded. 
“Do you drive it anymore?”
“Once in awhile, but I haven’t even put the battery in it this year. If we finish the Baby Grand on time, maybe we’ll take it out.”
Kevin had his hands on the wheel, wondering what it would be like to cruise down the road with Desiree, when he felt a hand on his thigh and looked over at her. He got the feeling she was thinking the same thing, only she’d probably want to drive it, too. “Is it hard to drive, Grampa?” 
“To someone use to front-wheel drive cars with automatic transmissions, power steering, and power anti-lock brakes it probably would be. You know how to drive?”
“No, sir.”
“You don’t either, do you, Desiree?” he asked, leaning in the driver’s window. She shook her head no. “You won’t be learning in this. What would you rather do first, ride in the coupe or learn how to drive?”
Kevin and Desiree looked at each other, their eyes wide open.
“If we get ahead of schedule we’ll do one or the other. If things go really well we’ll try for both, but I can’t promise anything.” Grandpa looked at his watch and said, “You two let me know later. In five minutes you need to lock this place up and head in for supper.” He stood, turned around, and walked out. 
“What would you like to do, Desiree?”
“What I’ve wanted to do ever since you said what you did about my dad earlier down by the pool.”
Her hand was still on his thigh and she gently squeezed as she pinned him against the door, her luscious, slightly parted lips pressed to his. As they kissed, their tongues touched and she flicked hers against his. He put a hand against the small of her back, holding her even closer. Soon his tongue was being pulled into her mouth, forcing him to suck just as hard to maintain equilibrium. She almost climbed into his lap while wrapping her other arm around his back, caressing him. Their mouths were sealed together tightly, yet comfortably, mainly because of her full, succulent lips. His dad made lips like hers for big bucks, but Desiree’s were a gift from God. 
After supper, they went to the den for family history lessons. The 1927 album started off with Paul Johnson sitting in the Baby Grand at the shop, thirteen-year-old Alice standing in front of the car. It was an innocent-looking picture with happy smiles on both of them, making it hard to believe she’d had the nerve to tell her mother that she thought she was in love with the twenty-one year old race car driver. 
As Desiree did a combination of reading the captions and recollecting details she’d been told, Kevin learned that Alice actually told Paul she loved him that very day the picture was taken. It was just before Alex, Paul, and the crew took off to Indianapolis for inspections, testing, and time trials. Alice was not allowed to join them, as no women, let alone little girls, were allowed in the pits. 
Paul qualified eighth and started the race in the middle of the third row back. The racers settled in after five laps as Paul worked his way into sixth. After shouting over the noise into Alex’s ear during a pit stop, different tires were put on the car than they had intended, delaying them. Paul lost positions because of it and was back to fifteenth, but quickly progressed, passing an average of a car a lap until reaching second. 
He remained hot on the leader until the halfway mark, but the third place car began putting pressure on him. Finally they came into contact when the third place car’s right front tire touched the left rear tire of the Baby Grand, nearly causing them both to crash. The third place car slowed slightly with, likely, a bent spindle, but the Baby Grand had a broken drive axle and barely made it into the pits. 
By the time repairs had been made, Paul was in last place of the cars still on the track, and several laps down. But he didn’t give up and resumed passing cars at an unbelievable pace. During pit stops they only changed two tires at a time while filling the fuel tank, thereby shortening the stops. He waved off refreshments. 
When there were fourteen laps to go, he had un-lapped himself and began passing cars on the lead lap. It was a valiant effort and the crowd was cheering, “Go, Throttle, go!” But it was too late and the Baby Grand finished eleventh. Paul was so done-in that his crew had to carry him out of the car. Afterward, a bottle of the finest Canadian whisky was delivered to his hotel room with the simple note: 
Paul,
You gave it your best, and that’s all I can ask for. Nobody tried harder than you. Thank you,
Al
After that it was on to smaller races, most being on dirt tracks. They were winning over half the races they entered, but it didn’t ease the pain of the 500. A bigger challenge came up that summer at the Illinois State Fair. Most of the big guns were there and the crowd was huge. It was no Indy 500 but competition was fierce. Unlike at Indy, they had heat races before the main event. And those who didn’t finish in the top ten of their heats had to finish in the top two of the semi-feature, or they were out. 
Paul managed second place in the fourth heat, which put him on the outside of the fourth row in the feature. Since the track was so narrow, they started two abreast. The feature was marred with accidents, mostly behind Paul, so there were several restarts. On the next one, most of the racers must have been expecting a green flag as they headed to the starting line going full blast. At the last second the flagman pulled the green and waved the yellow. Most let off and slowed, but the car behind Paul hit him, causing him to strike the car in front. Paul’s body was thrown forward—there were no seatbelts in those days—mashing his throttle wide open, spinning his rear tires and causing the car to twist a little sideways. The racer behind must have thought the race was on as he accelerated again. His car was straight and his tires gripped, causing him to ram into the Baby Grand again. Paul shot for the grandstands with the throttle jammed open. 
Everyone thought “Throttle” Johnson was just trying to get out of trouble the way he normally did, by a full application of power. The car jumped the fence and into the crowd, injuring several and killing one: the son of a United States senator from Illinois. Paul only received minor injuries, but was quickly arrested when a rabble-rouser turned the crowd into a vengeful mob. Nobody knew for sure, but it was thought that the one who fired them up was the eloquent senator himself. 
In an unprecedented move, state prosecutors charged Paul Johnson with manslaughter. Alex talked to Al and got Paul an attorney. When the lawyer saw Paul, the beat-up driver explained how he was hit from behind and pushed into the car in front of him. His body was thrown forward, which bounced the throttle to the floorboards and it stuck. But there was so much damage to the car that his story couldn’t be proven. The jury believed that the reckless race car driver acted irresponsibly by keeping his right foot mashed to the floor, and he was convicted. 
Alex went to Big Al, pleading for intervention, and was told, “Sorry, Alex. When those people decide they’re going to crucify somebody, there’s no stopping them. I’ll do for Paul what I do for all my guys: he’ll be protected in the joint, and I’ll pay his salary to his family.”
Alex explained that Paul had no family, but was like a brother to him. Al then charged Alex with holding his money for him. On the day of Paul’s sentencing, Alice skipped school and coerced her Uncle Tony to take her to court. After Paul was sentenced to five years in the state penitentiary and was being led away in chains, Alice jumped out and said, “I love you, Paul, and I’ll be waiting for you when you get out. None of your girlfriends will, only me.” 
“Don’t ruin your life waiting for me, Alice,” he said, still trying to avoid hurting the little girl’s feelings. 
“I’ll never have anything to do with another man, Paul. I’ll be a woman when you get out. The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” 
He went into prison in January of 1928, and stayed there the full five years. 
It was time to get another album. The next on the shelf was 1928–1932. 
Big Al told Alex that he lost his taste for racing and ordered everything sold. Alex went back to the truck maintenance shop, never to see Al Capone again. Alex had a good man in charge, so he really wasn’t needed there but they kept him on anyway. When Al Capone was sent to prison in 1932, Ralph came to Alex and told him their world was changing, and guys like Alex needed to find work with legitimate employers or get into business for themselves. He suggested that Alex open his own repair shop, or go in the trucking business. He had a hot tip that trucking was about to become regulated by Washington D.C., and a guy going into that line should get started establishing routes so he could keep them after the politicians got done with it. Then he told Alex he didn’t have to stick around if he didn’t want to. 
Alex asked if his brother-in-law Tony could go, too. Ralph inquired what Alex’s plans were. He told him they’d open a repair shop, and that he and Tony would start a trucking business so when Paul got out of prison he’d have a way to make a living. Ralph gave Alex one of their good trucks as a going away present. 
“Time for you two to call it a night,” Kevin’s grandfather said.
“Already?”
“Time flies. Pretty soon it’ll be morning, and you’ll be heading out on your big day. Where are you at now?”
“1932, and Ralph Capone gave your grandfather a truck as a going away present. I was hoping we’d have covered everything tonight.”
“Forget about it.” 

Chapter Twenty-Two
Kevin was in the back seat of his grandmother’s Mustang, nearing Madison, for once glad that he was small. Over an hour was enough for him, though. He bet driving it would be way more fun. Grandma dropped them off and gave him something he hadn’t seen before: Grandpa’s cell phone. 
After he bought the karate book, they walked around looking at stuff. Stopping outside of a novelty jewelry store, they saw the rings at the same time. He didn’t know how much they cost, but he had brought a lot of cash; over two hundred dollars. His five hundred dollar gift card was in his room at his grandparents’ house. 
The rings resembled motorcycle tires, only made of sterling silver. Jewelry for bikers is what they were, but Kevin and Desiree thought they looked like the narrow tires they’d seen in the pictures of vintage Indy cars. They had one to fit each of them for fifty-five dollars a piece, but he offered ninety for two and they took it. He was going to spring for them but Desiree insisted on paying for his. They left with the matching rings on the ring fingers of their left hands. Lunch was at Quizno’s, and the movie “Year One” started at five after one. Desiree let him pay for the movie and the popcorn. Afterward, he called his grandmother. She said she’d meet them at the east entrance at four, so they walked around holding hands until then. 
He did the gentlemanly thing and offered to sit in the back seat again for their ride home. He could tell that Desiree was positioning her hand so the ring was visible, but his grandmother either didn’t notice or decided not to comment. He believed she was just being a conscientious driver. She did ask if they got the book they wanted, and if they had a good time, though, and informed them that they were all having dinner at Desiree’s grandparents’ place. The traffic was heavy on the way back, and they didn’t get home until five-thirty. 
Desiree’s grandmother made salads, chicken and dumplings, and lemon meringue pie for dessert. It was excellent. Her grandfather was the first to notice the rings and said, “What do you two have there? Promise rings?”
Desiree looked pleased that someone finally noticed and replied, “Promise rings. Yeah, let’s call them that.” She winked at Kevin with an eye only he could see. 
“We thought they looked a lot like tires for the Baby Grand,” Kevin explained. “Like them?” 
“They’re just darling,” Desiree’s grandmother said. “I’ll bet nobody’s got a race car mechanic couple as cute as you two, either.” 
Kevin looked around and could tell the others agreed. His grandfather told them they’d be taking the racer’s frame and many other parts to a place somewhere near Stoughton, which was a town southeast of Madison, tomorrow. He said, “Today you two had a day off, but tomorrow you’ll get paid to goof off with me in the tow truck. Tomorrow morning, as soon as we get things loaded on and strapped down, we’ll head out. We ought to be back by lunch time, and we can work a little in the shop afterwards.”
“I wonder if Desiree and I could go back to our place so she can continue the family history lessons? I’m dying to know the whole story.”
The grandparents waved them off, and they left. 
They hurried along the path, not even slowing near the offshoot to the pool. 
Desiree sat on the couch while he went after the album. The last thing Kevin remembered was Ralph Capone giving Alexander a truck, saying he could leave and start a new life while he had the chance. Now he found out that after Al Capone went to prison for tax evasion, the Mob heard buzz about repealing the Volstead Act that had banned liquor. The Chicago Outfit decided to let non-gangsters find other ways to make their livings if they could. And The Great Depression didn’t show any sign of letting up. In fact, it had gotten worse. Alex could have stayed longer, and an experienced gunman like Tony could have stayed indefinitely, but they left. They packed up their things along with Maria and Alice and moved to Wisconsin. 
Alex bought an old farmstead for practically nothing. They had the dilapidated barn torn down and a new workshop constructed to house Tchaikovsky Towing & Repair, and PJ’s Trucking. When it was done, they lived in the building while the old farmhouse was being remodeled. Unemployment was high and labor was cheap, so they could afford to have everything done just the way they wanted. There was plenty of room on the acreage for more houses, as it was expected that Paul would need a place to live after getting out of prison, and Tony would probably want his own place one day, too. 
Alex opened his repair shop, with Maria working the office end of things, and also established PJ’s Trucking. Tony would drive until Paul was out, and perhaps they’d get another truck and he’d continue. Otherwise he’d be Alex’s helper in the repair shop, which he was a minority partner of. 
Ralph Capone had told them they needed to establish themselves in as many routes as they could, even if they lost money doing it, because those routes would be worth something when Congress regulated the trucking industry. That’s what Grandpa referred to when he talked about Tony being out on a deadhead run, hauling little or nothing, when he found that good deal on a wrecked car and brought it home. That sparked the change from Tchaikovsky Towing & Repair to Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. Even tenth grade dropouts like Tony could have brilliant ideas. 
Kevin scrambled to get the next volume: 1933–1948. 
The day Paul Johnson walked out the prison gates, Alice was behind the wheel of a shiny Model A waiting for him. 
“So, was she really pretty, Desiree?”
“Turn the page and let’s see,” she said, giving him a crafty smile.
He did, and almost gasped. His great-grandmother had kept her word to Paul that day when he was hauled off to prison. She had developed into an elegant, yet very sexy, woman. 
Alice drove them to her parents’ house in Darlington, Wisconsin where they celebrated Christmas, Russian Orthodox style, on January seventh. Alice told him they were going to get to know each other, and if he didn’t want to marry her by summer he’d never know what he was missing. From the looks of her in an evening gown, standing in the living room of her parents’ house with Paul by her side, he would have missed a lot. Her hair was similar to Desiree’s when she had it up, but her hips and bust more ample. That didn’t make her better looking than Desiree—nobody was—but she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Where Desiree’s face was slightly rounded, Alice’s had been more angular. Thin, but not gaunt. Healthy and full of life, smart and fun, was what came to mind just by looking at her picture. Allegedly, she told Paul he didn’t have to love her to marry her. She claimed to have enough love for both of them. But he did have to like her … a lot. 
They married on July fourth, 1933. Shortly after, Paul took over as the main driver of his own trucking company while Alice went to college in Madison. A year later she dropped out after getting pregnant. After giving birth, she went back at her parents’ insistence, leaving baby Don in their care. They all lived in the Tchaikovsky household until after Alice graduated from college. Once she had her accounting degree she helped manage both Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage and PJ’s Trucking, actually straightening out the books and turning both into thriving businesses is how it was described. Then the Johnsons’ new house was built. There were no more race car pictures, or any mention of race cars again. The focal points from then on were family and business, with an emphasis on little Donny Boy. 
When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Tony joined the Marines and became a gunman again. In his early thirties, he was an old man to be a Private in the infantry, but his savvy, his fearlessness, and his skill with a Tommy Gun were recognized and he soon became a Corporal, and then a Sergeant. Wounded in the South Pacific, he went through a series of hospitals before making his way back home, but not before falling in love with a nurse named Lucy who became his wife in 1945. Another house was built on the Tchaikovsky compound, and within a year Susanne Minetti was born. 
The rest of the album was filled with happy family pictures: pictures of the children, pictures of the parents and the grandparents, even a few of Paul behind the wheel of his latest truck. It had taken years, but he was often seen smiling in many of them. Alex was usually posing near prized items in the salvage yard, and sometimes with his tow truck. By then Maria spent most of her time preparing meals for the busy clan, and also kept track of Donnie Boy and Susanne. D.B. had gotten old enough to help her, though, and did. 
Uncle Tony removed and stored usable parts from wrecks, Alex sold them to customers—usually from behind the counter in the office—and Alice ran the office and fielded telephone calls. Lucy worked at a nearby hospital. They all converged at the Tchaikovsky household for evening and Sunday afternoon dinners. All, that is, except Paul who was often out on the road for a week at a time. Once in awhile Tony would take over for him and give him a break. 
“Now, wasn’t that just the best love story, Kev?”
“I don’t get it,” he said. “What would Alice have done if Paul hadn’t wanted to marry her?”
“She would have moved away, but she knew she wouldn’t have to.”
“How?”
“First of all,” Desiree explained, “Alice had been a good girl. Paul, on the other hand, had been with lots of women.”
At that point Kevin realized that Desiree had a hand on his inner thigh, when she gave him a gentle squeeze. 
“Then he went to prison for five years,” she went on, “and walked out to meet a total babe waiting for him. The bait was there, and she knew he couldn’t resist.”
“So, she used lust to control him?”
“Let’s just say she used her beauty to attract him,” she replied, now hanging onto his arm closest to her with both hands. “I’ll tell you something that’s not in the books if you promise not to say anything about it. Even your grandfather doesn’t know. Well, he knows. He just doesn’t know that I do.”
How could he resist? “Sure, I promise.” 
“The skinny-dipping hole wasn’t discovered by our grandfathers. It was found by your great-grandmother Alice when she was a lonely teenager waiting for her man to get out of prison.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Your grandfather told mine, and mine tells my grandmother everything, and, well, you know.”
“How did my grandfather ever find out?”
“Alex told him,” she said, grinning.
“What?”
“One day D.B. was out in the junkyard with Alex, where the impound area is now, and saw his parents gleefully walking hand-in-hand toward the path through the woods.” 
Kevin arched his eyebrows up, and Desiree flicked hers up and down in response. 
“D.B. was around seven or eight. Anyway,” she went on conspiratorially, “D.B. started walking after them until Alex stopped him and told him he had to stay with him. Of course D.B. wanted to know why, and Alex told him that his parents’ were going to their private place that his mother discovered before she was married.” 
“So you think they went skinny dipping-down there?”
Desiree chuckled. “C’mon, Kev. I think they did way more than that.” 
“How did she know that he’d love only her?” 
“Who knows?” she said not asked. “She must have had faith. Faith in her ability to take care of her man,” she added coyly. 
After a moment of silence, he said, “I saw more albums on the shelf.” 
“I’m through talking tonight, Kev,” she said as she put a hand on his shoulder furthest away from her, turned him, and pulled him closer. 

Chapter Twenty-Three
By nine-thirty on Thursday morning, they had the racer’s frame strapped down on the flatbed, plus a big wooden box filled with other parts, and were ready to head out with Desiree sitting between them. Although she’d seen the tow truck many times, this was her first ride in it. Kevin’s grandfather gave her a brief explanation of how everything worked, as well as describing some of the tools on board, and they were off. The day was cloudy and looked like it would rain, but the rain held off until after delivering the parts to the sandblasting, powder-coating place. 
Rain was pouring down when they left and made their way up highway 51 on the west side of Lake Kegonsa, but it let off as they approached the emergency flashing lights of a police car blocking the road. They were the first non-involved civilians on the scene. Grandpa pulled to the side of the road, set the parking brake, turned on his emergency flashers, and got out to talk to the officer. A tractor trailer rig up ahead was on its side, blocking the road beyond the police car, and a few smashed cars were scattered around. There was a smaller road to the right and down, between them and the lake. 
An ambulance was there, and another came screaming in, but the police car in front was the only other emergency vehicle. Since they were the only wrecker on site, Kevin guessed the cop figured they had been called, but was sure his grandfather was clearing that up. Even so, they would need all the help they could get for this mess. 
“Hey, Kev. What’s that over there?” Desiree said, pointing at something beyond his side window. 
He zipped the window down and looked out, squinting. “Where?”
She leaned over with her right hand resting on his left thigh, almost touching the right side of her face to his, and reached out with her left hand pointing again. She smelled really good, and he kissed her on the cheek.
“Not now, Kev. Look out there. What is that?”
“Where?”
“To the right of that dock, just left of the house.”
He followed her pointing finger and saw something in the water.
“I don’t know. Maybe a rock?”
“I don’t think so,” she said resolutely. “Get out,” she ordered. “I want a better look.”
He opened the door, stepped down, and reached up to help her. Then they walked to the edge of the road and peered out. 
“That’s part of a car, Kevin!”
“That’s pretty far for a part to fly off a car from over here, Desiree.”
“I think it’s the whole car,” she insisted, “but we can only see part of it because it’s in the water.”
It’s strange how an object sometimes can’t be recognized until it’s described. That’s what happened to Kevin as the object of Desiree’s concern seemed to morph, and he knew exactly what it was. It was a taillight connected to the rear section of a dark-colored car. A little bit of the back of the trunk lid was also in view, but the car was leaning over on one side, just as it was angled down in front. 
They ran the few steps to his grandfather and the policeman as another police car arrived. “There’s a car out in the water,” Kevin said, pointing. 
The policeman turned, looked, and said, “How in the … we’ll call in for a water rescue team and a diver.” Then he walked the short distance to the newly arrived police car. 
Kevin knew it was unlikely anyone in that car could still be alive. They’d already been there for several minutes. Surely nobody could hold their breath that long, could they? He took out his wallet, handed it to Desiree, and took off running, first to the truck where he opened the glove compartment and grabbed the plastic-handled tool with a pointy hammer at one end for breaking windows and a protected blade at the other for cutting seatbelts. Cramming it between his belt and pants at his back, he ran down the slope past the edge of the road, in the background hearing, “Kevin! What do you think you’re doing?” 
That was his grandfather. And truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing but knew he had to hurry. And that proved to be the only way since the steep slope was slippery from the rain. It was a mystery how he managed to stay upright, but he did and was even aware enough to make sure he didn’t get run over when crossing the road at the bottom. 
He hit the water still running. 
From above, his target area hadn’t seemed so far away. But as he slogged through the water it seemed impossibly distant. When the water was up to his waist, he dove in and started swimming, thankful he’d learned how in seventh grade. When he reached the back end of the car he dunked under, forced his eyes open, and made his way to the rear window to see someone looking up at him. He surfaced, breathed deeply, and went back down and forward. The car was a two-door, possibly a Monte Carlo. He looked in the driver’s side window and was so startled that he almost gasped as he jerked backward. He looked again and realized that the strange object he thought looked like a jellyfish was the now limp airbag floating around, rooted to the steering wheel. 
He clutched the door handle and pulled. It was jammed. Duh! If it hadn’t been, the person inside wouldn’t be there would they? He reached behind and pulled out the twenty-dollar magic tool and swung it, pointy hammer end first, at the door’s window. His arm strained to reach sufficient velocity as his mind raced. The window broke, but shattered in slow motion compared to the demonstration on the infomercial. He hacked away at the jagged edges and tried entering. The headrest was in his way until he found the lever to release the driver’s seat back, and tilted it forward. That done, he made his way in and back toward the occupant that was still up around the rear window. When he got there he found her breathing, panting hysterically, from a small pocket of air just up from the back of the rear seat. 
“Are you an angel?” she asked manically. 
“Uh, no. But I am taking you up. I’m hanging on to your hand and leading the way, so take a breath and hold it.” 
He waited a moment until he was sure she was ready, and moved to the front seat area, pulling her. He forced his way out the window opening with her in tow, made sure she didn’t hit her head or get caught on anything when pulling her free, and kicked to the surface. It only took about five seconds but his mind was racing a million miles an hour so it seemed much longer. 
Once there, she struggled free and started swimming out, not in, and he had to go after her. When he caught her she started flailing her arms in panic. He put an arm around her neck, flipped her onto her back, and did sort of a one-armed side stroke toward the shore, kicking with all his might. Once they got into shallow water, he released her, stood up, and held his hands out for her. She was sobbing and howling, so he just grabbed her and pulled her up. She wrapped her arms around him, crying hysterically. He managed to guide her to the shore in time to hand her off to people wearing uniforms that didn’t even have to get their feet wet. 
Kevin was relieved of duty. 
The woman was put on a stretcher while he walked heavily up the shore, went right by the ambulance, and was going to try scaling the slope when he heard, “Hey! Where are you going?”
He turned around and said, “I have to get back up there to my girlfriend and my grandfather.”
“Everybody involved in the crash goes to the hospital.”
“I wasn’t in the crash. We were up there in a tow truck and my girlfriend saw a car in the water, so I ran down to see if I could help.”
The ambulance team looked at each other, then back at him, and one said, “Get in and we’ll give you a ride.”
One got behind the wheel, with the three of them in the back. The woman was given oxygen, and when she seemed okay the medic turned to him and asked, “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Well, I’m all wet and feel chilled, but I’m not hurt and didn’t swallow any water.”
“You said your girlfriend and your grandfather are up there with a tow truck?”
“Yeah, it’s a yellow flatbed with Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage on the side.”
“Okay, we’ll go to them. But if they think you should go to the hospital, you’re getting right back in. Got it?” 
“Yeah, sure.”
Before long the ambulance stopped, the driver opened the rear doors, and Kevin got out. Desiree was on him in a flash, her arms wrapped around him and her lips on his. When their lips parted he said, “I’m getting you all wet, Desiree.”
“I don’t care about a little water, Kev.”
He must have shivered, because she asked, “Are you cold?”
He nodded. “Just a little.”
“I’ve got an old wool blanket in the truck,” his grandfather said. “I’ll get it.” 
“Hey, we’ve got to roll,” the ambulance driver said. “You want us to take him in or not?”
“No, we’ll take care of him,” Desiree said, then turned back to him. “Take your shirt off, Kev.”
“But I’m cold.”
“Strip,” she ordered just as Grandpa arrived with the blanket. Then she instructed, “Wrap the blanket around his shoulders as soon as we get his shirt off.”
Kevin fumbled with the buttons. She became impatient, finished the rest of them, and helped him out of his shirt. His grandfather draped the blanket over his shoulders, and Kevin closed the opening at his chest with clenched fists. 
“Support him by the shoulders while I take off his shoes. Lift a foot, Kev,” Desiree commanded. 
She had done the same with the other foot by the time he asked, “Why do I need my shoes off?”
“Because we’ll never get your pants off over them,” she said, and he felt her hands working on his belt. Before he could protest, she had his pants down to his ankles and said, “Lift a foot, Kev. Okay, now the other.”
When she stood, holding his pants, he saw his underwear in them and held the blanket even tighter. 
“Get him in the truck and turn on the heater while I take care of his clothes,” she said, seeming to know exactly what to do. 
Since the driver’s side door was closest, his grandfather helped him in through there, told him to sit in the middle, and turned on the heater of the idling truck. When his grandfather turned to Desiree, she handed him Kevin’s freshly wrung-out shirt. He put it on the center hump of the floor and was just going back out when somebody aimed their cell phone at Desiree and snapped a picture of her wringing out Kevin’s boxer shorts. Grandpa shut the door, preventing Kevin from hearing the conversation, and got in the intruder’s face. Grandpa was so feisty that Kevin thought the guy was lucky to get away. He did, though, and with his cell phone. 
The policeman they’d been talking to came back and asked if he could take his statement then, or arrange to have him come to the station another time. He chose then, with the policeman sitting in the driver’s seat and Desiree to Kevin’s right. Grandpa was out helping the other wrecker drivers figure out how to upright the tractor-trailer rig. Before the policeman left he told Kevin what a stupid, crazy thing he did, and then smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and asked to shake his hand. Then he said, “We’re always supposed to say garbage like that to civilians when they did what we should’ve. I see the water rescue team just showed up. That woman would be dead if not for both of you. Thank you. And kid,” he added, “you’ve got a lot of balls.”
After he made his exit and closed the door, Desiree said, “In more ways than one.”
“Huh?”
“Balls, Kev. You’ve definitely got ’em.” 
“You peeked?”
“I didn’t mean to,” she said sheepishly. “I was just … there. Besides, I didn’t see that much. I think you had that guy ‘cold-shrinkage’ thing going on. And the adrenalin rush probably sent blood to other parts of your body, tightening things up.” 
“That makes me feel so much better,” he snapped. Her expression changed, and he could tell she just realized she had insulted his manhood. 
“Oh, Kevin,” she said, cuddling up to him, “you were cold and went through a traumatic event. I’m sure it’s typical. Besides,” she forged on, “remember that day you thought you grossed me out? You were just about busting out of your shorts. You’ve got plenty. I bet if I looked right now, we’d find you’re already back to normal.” 

Chapter Twenty-Four
They stopped at a McDonalds drive-through on the way home. Desiree babied Kevin, fed him a quarter-pounder and offered sips of her beverage as he held his improvised garment closed. Grandpa called Grandma and told her what happened, and that they’d be back soon. When they got there, Grandpa dropped them off at the door, and then put his truck away. 
As soon as they entered the kitchen, Kevin’s grandmother ordered him to take a shower, and off they went. “Not you, young lady,” his grandmother said, halting Desiree in her tracks. “I think Kevin can handle that job himself.”
“But he might be dizzy, Great-auntie Keely,” Desiree said innocently. 
“Well, I’m not,” his grandmother stated. “Nor am I daffy. If Kevin really needs help, I’ll handle it,” she threatened. 
He went to his room alone. 
They didn’t work in the shop that afternoon. 
Before dinner, Desiree tried to continue the family history lessons on the couch, but their grandparents pretty much kicked them out of the den area to watch the news on television. They retreated to the office part of the room and began on 1945: Alice and Paul decided to turn the “deed” to their secret place over to Donny Boy. He found it on his own while walking the natural animal path, and they didn’t want him stumbling upon them “going at it,” so they quit using the place for that purpose. At least that was the story as Desiree told it. He suspected she was messing with him. But when he looked questioningly at her, she slowly nodded, looking him in the eye. He not only remembered her saying she would never lie to him, but now believed she was serious … about everything. 
Donny Boy had also happened across the Collins’s property and introduced himself to Peter Collins, explaining who he was and how he got there. Pretty soon they were best buddies, spent lots of time together, and introduced the two families. 
Donny Boy and Peter, being normal little boys, eventually began skinny-dipping at the secret place, smoking Peter’s father’s cigarettes from time to time. Alexander smelled the tobacco on D.B. but didn’t say anything, believing he was just being a normal, curious boy. Pretty soon D.B., Peter, and Peter’s cute little sister Keely were always seen together. By 1948 it was sometimes just D.B. and Keely. 
D.B. and Peter were still pals, but by 1949 it was obvious that D.B. and Keely were much more. One day when Alex and D.B. were in town with the wrecker, D.B. spotted a 1937 Ford for sale and convinced his grandfather to pull over and look at it. The body was perfect, but the old lady who owned it ran it low on oil and ruined the engine. The car followed them home on the back of the wrecker. Alexander thought having D.B. busy working on a car would be a good diversion for the young lover. 
Before Kevin and Desiree could continue, the grandparents called them over. “The news just started and they already said something about the accident near Stoughton. They said to stay tuned for the exciting story.”
They put away the album and joined their grandparents. The only seat left was one on the couch, so he had Desiree take it while he sat on the floor in front of her between her knees. After viewing a series of commercials, the news anchor began talking about the terrible accident with a miraculous outcome. 
“A semi-truck, trying to avoid two cars that collided on highway 51, locked up its trailer brakes, turning the big rig sideways and flipping over. A car trying to avoid the melee went off the road and down an embankment, first colliding with the service road below, and then careening on into Lake Kegonsa. The thirty-eight year old mother of three said when she hit the road below the highway, her airbag exploded into her face, disorienting her so she couldn’t maintain pressure on the brake pedal. Before she knew it, her car splashed into the water. 
“She unsuccessfully tried opening her door, and then the window as the car sank. After unbuckling her seatbelt, she drifted up and back, finding a small air pocket by the rear window. Not being able to escape her under-water coffin, she prayed that her husband and children would get over her loss and move on with their lives. Just then, she said, a young man was at her side, assuring her that he was taking her to the surface. 
“We still haven’t confirmed the identity of the hero, but have these pictures that were provided by a viewer,” the news anchor said. “This first one shows him wrapped in a blanket, getting into a tow truck.”
There Kevin was with nothing between his bare body and the viewing audience but his grandfather’s old blanket. 
“This one clearly shows Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage on the side of the now closed truck door, with the blanket-clad hero inside. This last picture is one of an unidentified woman wringing the water out of, presumably, her superman’s clothing. Police officials told us they’ll release his name soon, so we expect to have more information on the ten o’clock broadcast.”
Kevin’s grandfather switched off the television, stood up, and said, “I thought Kevin would get some press out of this, and I think we should talk about how to handle it.”
“Grampa,” Kevin interjected, “if it wasn’t for Desiree, I never would have seen that car.”
“Oh, there’s no question that Desiree deserves lots of credit for this,” he replied, “but I think she might get more than you’d like. Some people might make fun of her for wringing the water out of your underwear, just like they might make more out of her helping you out of them than they should.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Desiree said matter-of-factly. 
“If you are both okay with gaining notoriety,” Grandpa continued, “I have a proposal. But I think we all need to either agree on it or forget about it. We have a golden opportunity to use this situation to promote the Baby Grand. Pretty soon we’ll be informed of the date and time for the press conference with that crazy football player. His people are arranging the whole thing, but if we prepare Kevin and Desiree for it and ‘spike the punch’ so to speak, with our own information, we’ll gain lots of press.”
“I don’t get it,” Kevin said.
“You’re hot,” Desiree told him. Then she touched the side of his neck and caressed him. 
“This whole thing of working on a tribute to my father could be huge,” Grandpa went on. “Because of all the press you’ve made, seeking a pardon for my father just might be doable. Everyone will have a say in this, and all ideas welcome. Technically, we’d be exploiting you two. Especially you, Kevin. Should we do it or not?” 
Kevin’s grandmother got out of her chair, went over to her husband, hugged him, and then kissed him on the mouth. 
“Sixty years those two have been going at it,” Great-uncle Peter said. “You’d think they’d give it a rest, wouldn’t you?” 
Kevin realized he was talking to him and Desiree as he continued, “I say if Kevin and Desiree want to go ahead with it, I’m in. I don’t know what this bent-up old man can do, but I’ll help any way I can.”
“Oh, this is exciting!” Great-aunt Andrea said and grabbed Great-uncle Peter’s hand. They sat in silence until Kevin realized that all the old people were looking expectantly at them. He looked to Desiree, and she rapidly nodded and smiled. He stood, turned and reached for her, pulled her to her feet, and she wrapped her arms around him. Desiree locked lips with him, and her grandfather joked, “Oh no. Now we’ve got a couple more that’ll be at it for sixty years. Who knows? Maybe more.” 
“Come on, you two,” Kevin’s grandmother said. “Break it up. It’s time to eat, and then we have lots of work to do. And we’ll need your minds on the mission, not love. Like Peter said, you’ll have plenty of time for that.” 
After the dinner dishes were cleared, they sat at the kitchen table for their first brainstorming session. Grandpa said they used to do that at work all the time, and everyone’s input was expected. Desiree’s grandmother was the first to come up with a brilliant idea, so any doubts Kevin had about her mental abilities due to the stroke were put to rest. Her idea was the basis of their entire strategy: They’d arrange a formal celebration where the Baby Grand would be unveiled. His grandmother piped in that they would wear their nicest clothes and invite prominent people, including members of the press, and have a light champagne lunch catered. 
“Also with non-alcoholic punch and coffee,” Great-aunt Andrea said. “You know, for the kids and Mandy. And we have to schedule it for when she’s out of rehab.” 
“Of course,” Kevin’s grandfather agreed. “And we want Kevin’s parents there, too.” 
“Where are we going to get these prominent people?” Great-uncle Peter asked.
“I’d like to get the governor of Illinois here,” Grandpa said. “I suppose we’ll have to invite the governor of Wisconsin if we do that. Maybe even the governor of Minnesota since Kevin is from there.”
“Think any of them would come?” Kevin asked.
“I’ve never heard of a politician who wouldn’t show up for a free lunch and the right campaign contribution,” Grandpa said. “I’ll probably have to offer the governor of Illinois a little more since he’s the one we’ll be seeking the pardon from.”
“Is that legal?” Desiree asked.
“Sure,” Grandpa said. “In Al Capone’s day they called them bribes, but now campaign contributions are the way to go. They’re legal even when there’s no campaign,” he added, laughing. 
“Should I use the money from the football player for that, Grampa?” 
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Hang onto that when you get it. Keely and I’ll finance this operation.” 
“We have to make this event first class, Donny,” Kevin’s grandmother said. “Where will we have it?”
“I’d like to have it right out in the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage building,” Grandpa replied. 
“That’s pretty big for this old lady to clean, Donny.” 
“I’ll get some industrial cleaners in there next week,” he assured. “Maybe painters, too. We won’t be able to start putting the car back together for at least a week. You ladies can figure out how to decorate. Think we should have some sort of entertainment?”
“Desiree can play the piano,” Kevin suggested. 
“I don’t know,” she balked. “Besides, you’d have to have a bigger one than ours to carry the sound if we’re having the party in the workshop.” 
“That’s a brilliant idea, Kev,” Grandpa agreed. “How about a baby grand?” he added, looking at Desiree and writing everything down on his laptop. 
Desiree nodded, accepting. 
“We have one at home,” Kevin offered. 
“That’s too far away,” Grandpa pointed out. “We’ll rent one and have it delivered. Okay, what else?”
“Maybe we can have some old photographs blown up, or period art,” Great-aunt Andrea suggested. 
“Hey,” Kevin said, “how about if we try to get Bonnie McGee to paint one. Maybe a portrait of the Baby Grand in the pits at Indy, having the broken axle repaired, Paul Johnson behind the wheel and Alexander Tchaikovsky directing the mechanic who could be my dad.” His suggestion was met with silence. He looked to Desiree and detected a drop in her mood. Then he looked around at the others, finally settling his gaze on his grandmother. 
“Do you really think she’s good enough?” she asked him. 
“I do, but we could ask if she’ll let you see some of her work first. If you think she’s got the right stuff, maybe we could hype the event as also the debut of an exciting new artist.”
“Do you think she’d do it?” Desiree asked blandly. 
“I could put it to her like this: ‘I’d like to commission you to do a painting to be unveiled at a gala event attended by VIPs. I believe you’ll be able to sell it for big bucks, but I’ll give you my five-hundred dollar Visa gift card to hold in case that doesn’t happen.’”
“Do you think she’ll talk to you?” Desiree asked. 
Kevin got the feeling she didn’t want him talking to Bonnie. “Bonnie won’t need to talk to me,” he assured Desiree. “We’ll send her a catchy email on someone else’s email account. She’ll read it before she realizes who it’s from, and we’ll include that she’ll only be dealing with my grandmother.” He saw Desiree brighten at that, and then looked to his grandmother.
“Okay, Kev,” his grandmother said. “Ask if I can view her work with an art professor friend of mine from the University of Wisconsin in Madison. If she agrees, I’ll take it from there. But we’ll also have to make sure she can complete it on time. Most of the pictures she’ll have to use are black and white, but I’m sure we’ll want the painting in color so I may end up spending lots of time with her. That means I won’t be able to do much around here.” 
“I can handle all the household stuff, Keely,” Great-aunt Andrea said.” 

Chapter Twenty-Five
On Friday, Kevin’s grandfather got a call from the football player’s agent. In one week they’d be at a television studio for the press conference. He then contacted a public relations firm and explained the need to get a publicist on the job right away. Before he left for Madison to meet with them, he pointed at Kevin and said, “You, I want mowing our lawn and the Collins’s, pronto. And you,” he said pointing at Desiree who had come over at the usual work time, “I want practicing your piano and thinking about what songs you’ll be playing for two or three hours. And no fooling around and skinny-dipping, either,” he added, looking from one to the other. 
“We don’t skinny-dip, Grampa,” Kevin protested. 
“Whatever you call it, just get your work done first. You need to compose that email to Bonnie today, too, you know.”
“Yes, sir,” Kevin complied, and looked over to see Desiree’s reddened face. His felt warm, too. 
They walked quickly along the path to her house, not even hesitating at the branch to the pool. 
“How long do you think they’ve known, Kev?”
“Probably since the first time we left one place to go to the other and took a detour. I’m sure they’ve compared notes about us.”
“You think they’re mad?” she asked.
“No, I just think my grandfather’s getting nervous about everything. It’ll be fine. Will you help me write that email later?”
“Sure. I couldn’t possibly practice all day and night. What about my karate lessons, Kev?”
“If I get done early enough, I’ll come over and we’ll work on the letter. We can break for karate, and then you can get back to the piano.” 
While Desiree went to work on the piano, he went to work on the lawns. After he was done with theirs, he walked back and was about to start on his grandparents’ when his grandmother came outside and told him to come in for lunch. During lunch he learned that his grandmother had been fielding calls regarding yesterday’s news. Between the early news showing the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage tow truck, and the late news giving out the names Kevin Johnson, Desiree Chantelle, and Don Johnson, people had zeroed in on them. She’d been thanking well-wishers and telling news people that Don Johnson would call them back. The woman he saved, and her husband, wanted to thank him personally and give him a reward. Grandma told them no reward was necessary, but said they could express their gratitude at the Baby Grand unveiling. 
By the time Kevin finished mowing at the house and the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage property, it was four o’clock and he needed a shower. After he was done and in the kitchen, his grandfather walked in and said he had a man on the job making sure that everyone within a hundred miles of Madison would know about Kevin’s heroics before the news conference. The publicist told him that Kevin needed to practice answering anticipated questions while finding a way to slip in details about the unveiling of the Baby Grand and its importance, because any reporter worth his or her salt would surely ask. 
Kevin and Desiree worked on the letter to Bonnie from six until almost nine. Karate would have to wait. When they finished, he called his grandfather and told him he’d email it to them so they could check it out before sending it to Bonnie. The final copy looked like this: 
Dear Ms. Bonnie McGee,
We are inquiring whether you’d be interested in being commissioned to create a painting to our specifications. We expect you will be able to sell it for a good price after we display it at our media presentation, where we will also be showing our project, to select dignitaries. Of course, you and your family would be welcome to attend. A light lunch and other refreshments will be served. 
There will be no out-of-pocket costs to you. In fact, we’ll pay for materials and give you a five hundred dollar retainer to hold in the unlikely event that your painting doesn’t sell for more. If you accept the project you’ll be dealing directly with Keely Johnson and an art professor from the University of Wisconsin in Madison, not me. Please respond, as I respect you as an artist. 
Sincerely, 
Kevin Johnson
P.S. This is a business proposition, not some lame attempt to win you back. I know your work is remarkable, and this is an opportunity for you to show it. I believe it would also enhance our showing of the Baby Grand, a duplicate of the car my great-grandfather drove in the 1927 Indianapolis 500. 
Desiree apologized for being jealous when he suggested getting Bonnie involved, right after clicking on “Send.” Kevin couldn’t believe she could be jealous of any girl. She had them all so outclassed. Before he ran off in the semi-darkness, they kissed. And then she whispered into his ear with hot breath, “Someday, Kevin Johnson, someday.” 
If it would have been light out, he probably would have jumped in the pool on the way home to cool off his overheated libido. 
On Saturday, Kevin rode to Madison with Desiree and her grandparents. While they met with her mother and a councilor, he went through the karate book to figure out ways to further Desiree’s development. Karate development, that is. Everything else about her was already fully developed. 
They were all somber when they got back, and Kevin kept his mouth shut as Great-uncle Peter drove them home. Desiree was in the back seat with him, and she sat next to him using the center seatbelt. She rested her head on his shoulder, and after awhile he felt tears soaking through his shirt. All he could think of was to put his arm around her and hold her, which he did. Since they met, it was the only time she said she was tired and wanted to be alone when they got home. 
Sunday consisted of church, dinner, strategy discussions at the Collins’s house, karate practice, and a dip in their private pool. As they sat on the bench, leaning against each other’s back while drying off, he remembered they were missing the NASCAR race in Michigan. And although their backs were the only parts of their bodies touching, he wouldn’t have traded it for watching anything on television, not even NASCAR. 
When they got back, Desiree went to her room, and then came running to the living room. “Bonnie replied,” she announced excitedly. “She said she’ll talk to Great-auntie Keely.” 
Bonnie left her cell number. Grandma called her right away and assured her that everything in the email was an honest effort to hire her as an artist. She explained about the time table, and asked if she and an art professor could meet with her and view her work on Monday. 
That week went by in a blur as Kevin worked on his speaking skills and how to handle himself while interjecting key information at Friday’s press conference. His grandfather told him the whole thing was supposed to be about the poor football star losing his cool, but he had to keep in mind that: 
He had taken down and humiliated the big man
He would earn $50,000 for accepting his apology
Their unveiling of the Baby Grand had to be announced
Desiree played the piano so much that Kevin worried she would damage her fingers, but she assured him she’d stop if she felt any pain. They failed to practice karate, and didn’t go for any dips in the pool, either. Friday morning’s ten o’clock press conference was the only thing they were supposed to think about. Desiree wasn’t expected to have much to say but was included during his practice sessions, just in case. 
They rode to Madison in Great-uncle Peter’s big Buick since it was the only vehicle that would hold them all. Kevin wore a navy blue suit with a white shirt and tie, and Desiree wore a pleated gray and black plaid skirt with a white blouse and a gray vest. His suit coat had been kept on a hanger, keeping it wrinkle free, until needed. 
The room they were escorted to was much smaller than expected, and there wasn’t space for the grandparents. They had to wait in an adjoining room with the door closed, but there was a monitor so they could see and hear what was going on. The football player was already there with his entourage of two, and he didn’t look at Kevin. The local news personality kicked things off by making introductions, then explained they were there as an agreement for Kevin’s family to drop aggravated assault charges against football great “Outrageous” Andy Baldacci who lost his temper during an unfortunate incident. No mention was made about Kevin putting him down, breaking his nose, knocking him out and tying him up to hold him until the police arrived. That was fine, and he remembered their goals as told to him by his grandfather: get word out about the unveiling of the Baby Grand, and get the money. 
When Baldacci was asked to speak, he blandly apologized for behaving badly and frightening Ms. Chantelle. Then he announced that he was seeking treatment for anger management and was looking forward to the next season, all in the same breath. The media host asked about his career and what he thought of his team’s prospects for the coming season. It finally hit Kevin that nobody was going to ask him anything. They were done. He hoped his grandfather hadn’t paid that publicist too much. 
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Desiree said assertively, dropping the jaws of both Baldacci and the host of the one-sided show. 
“Yes, Miss?” the newsman said.
“Miss Chantelle,” Desiree corrected. “I don’t recall anyone bothering to find out if I’ve accepted the apology.”
Baldacci whispered to one of the men near him. Kevin wasn’t sure if he was the agent or the lawyer. The guy whispered back, and Baldacci shook his head, looked at Desiree, and said, “I agreed to apologize to you and say I would get counseling, and I’ve done that. What do you want from me?” 
“Sincerity. You apologized to me in word only, and you didn’t even look at the hero you assaulted.”
“Hero?”
“Kevin Johnson saved two lives within a month’s time, not counting yours when he turned you over so you wouldn’t choke to death on your own blood, plus he protected me from you. What have you been up to lately? As for saying you’ve agreed to counseling: is that true, or are you just saying it?”
“Hey, I’m the one that got his ass kicked,” he said, glaring at Desiree.
“And yet you haven’t seemed to learn any manners, have you?”
Baldacci’s face was red and he had a vein sticking out on his forehead. He looked like he was about to stand, but Kevin beat him to it.
“You stay away from me,” Baldacci told him. 
He actually cringed when he said that. There was no doubt about it: the guy was a nut-job. His agent/lawyer team each put a hand on the big man’s shoulders. One of them said to the interviewer, “You aren’t still recording this, are you?” 
“Everybody relax,” the newsy guy said. “Nothing goes out without your approval after editing.”
Desiree stood. “That’s quite a cozy arrangement,” she remarked curtly. “Come on, Kevin, let’s get out of here.” She grabbed his arm, and as they turned somebody said, “No, wait! We just got off on the wrong foot. Come on back. Please? Come on, Andy,” the guy said to Baldacci, “ask them to please sit down.”
“Umm. I’m sorry for my … bad behavior,” Baldacci said. “Could we start over?”
Desiree stopped and looked at Kevin, and then they turned to the big man.
“Please?” he groveled. 
They looked at each other again, and then Kevin turned and said, “The reason I insisted you apologize to my girlfriend is because you traumatized her. Even though you had me by the throat, I was willing to let that slide if you expressed remorse to her. I’ve seen no remorse.” He stared at the big man, in one way fearing him, but it hit him that Baldacci feared losing his career and the money it brought even more. He probably thought he could squash him like a bug, but hadn’t he thought that before? Then again, he had been startled when Kevin stood, told him to keep back. Maybe he feared him, too. 
The man at Baldacci’s side whispered into his ear. He looked at the man, nodded, and then faced Kevin. “I’m … sorry for when I grabbed you … Kevin.” 
“Thank you for that, Andy. It’s alright if I call you Andy, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Think we could sit down and start over?” 
Kevin looked at Desiree and could see mischief in her eyes. She had been in complete control and saved the day. What a wonderful, beautiful, gutsy girl. He guided her back to the table and they sat down. 
“I admit I just wanted this thing over with,” Baldacci said. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for a man like me to get taken down by a … a guy like you?”
“Do you know how terrifying it is to have someone twice your body mass grab you by the throat and make a move to punch you in the face?” Kevin countered. 
“I’m sorry,” Baldacci replied. “I wasn’t really going to hit you. Honest. I realize you thought I was, though, and so I’m sorry about that, too. And I will seek counseling. I really will.” 
Kevin sensed Baldacci was on the verge of tears. That didn’t necessarily make him feel comfortable. He still thought he was mentally unstable. Maybe roid rage from too many steroids or something. He cleared his throat and looked at Desiree. 
Taking the hint, Baldacci said, “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry for frightening you, Miss Chantelle.”
“Thank you, Andy. Apology accepted,” Desiree responded blankly. 
Kevin knew she was happy but feigning indifference. Happy because they … she had gained control of the situation. “Andy,” he said, “my family is hosting the unveiling of an exact duplicate of the Baby Grand, a race car that was driven by my great-grandfather, Paul ‘Throttle’ Johnson, in the 1927 Indianapolis 500. It was secretly owned by Al Capone, and prepared by my great-great-grandfather, Alexander Tchaikovsky. I’d be honored if you would consider me your friend, and join us for this monumental celebration. You’re welcome to bring a guest. It’ll be semi-formal, and we’re expecting many dignitaries in attendance.” 
 “That sounds exciting,” Baldacci said. “When will it be?” 
“Wednesday, August twelfth. The doors open at eleven-thirty a.m., and the actual presentation begins at noon. Light lunch will be served afterwards. We’re hoping the politicians we’ve invited won’t be too long-winded, if any decide to speak,” he said with a smile. “The whole thing should be done by two-thirty. A painting by a new artist from near the Madison area, Bonnie McGee, commemorating the car’s involvement in the 1927 Indy 500 will also be unveiled. The whole thing will take place at the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage building near Darlington, Wisconsin.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Kevin. I’ll be there.” 
Kevin and Desiree maintained composure until they got in the car and drove off. Desiree wrapped her arms around his neck, gave him a smooch, and said, “You were so wonderful, Kev.” 
“Me? You’re the one who saved the day,” he countered and smooched her back. 
“Let’s just say I intercepted the ball,” she said, “handed it off, and you ran with it. The important thing is we scored.” 
Her grandmother was in the back seat with them and started to giggle. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard talk about scoring in the back seat of a car,” she said. 
Kevin’s grandmother looked back and joined in on her laughter. 
“Lunch is on me,” Kevin’s grandfather said. “Good going on getting things back on track, Desiree. And nice job on inviting Andy, Kev. That’ll help our cause tremendously, I’m sure. Remind me, in case I ever forget, never to talk to either of you like you’re kids. You might only be fourteen, but you’ve both got more moxie than I’ve ever seen. I think together you’re twenty-eight.” 
On Saturday morning, Desiree played the piano and worked on choosing the right songs while Kevin mowed lawns. After lunch they practiced karate for an hour and a half, since Desiree thought she had gotten behind. She also confessed being tired of the piano and couldn’t play another note that day, having done four hours straight. Kevin told her she would have a maximum playing time of three hours at the unveiling, so she should limit herself to three hours per day or she’ll burn out. She said he was wise, but stunk and needed a dip in the pool. He told her she smelled great but should join him anyway. 
“I don’t think I better today, Kev. I could go with you and watch, though.”
“That’s no fun, Desiree.”
“You like being with me and talking with me, don’t you?”
“Sure,” he agreed, “but it’d be so much nicer with you in there, too. What’s the deal?”
“It’s … that time of the month and I just don’t feel like it, okay?”
He felt his face warm up, and he looked down. Gentle fingers touched his chin and steered his head back up to meet her eyes.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Kev. It’s just a fact of life.” 
“No, I just thought maybe I embarrassed you by being so pushy and making you talk about it. I’m sorry.”
She moved her hand to the back of his neck, pulled him close and kissed him. “You’re such a sweetie, even if you do stink,” she joked. “Come on. We always have such good talks when we’re on the bench. I think, since you’ll be the only one wet and partially clothed, we can face the same direction while you’re drying off.” 
He thought her eyes were watching his every move when he removed his things. 
“Have I ever told you that you have a nice little butt, Kev?”
“I … don’t know. Maybe.”
She laughed. “You do, you know.”
“You’ve got nice everything,” he said while heading to the pool. His own talk and thoughts of her body parts caused a reaction he was glad she couldn’t see as he walked away from her. He knew some day she’d see everything, and he’d have to get beyond his embarrassment over his seemingly uncontrollable actions. But for now he was relieved to get in the cold water. 
“I like all your parts, too, Kev.”
Once his body was submerged he turned around. 
“Kev?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you riding over with your grandparents for dinner this evening, or do you want to come earlier?”
“Earlier is better if you don’t mind.”
“Mind? It’s my idea,” she said, smiling. 
“Desiree, you once said that your mom is between jobs. What does she do?”
“She’s a middle school principal. The school board said they wouldn’t give her a bad recommendation if she resigned. They also said if she dries out, and if they have an opening for the next school year, they’ll hire her back. But she might just try to start fresh somewhere else.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s a music teacher.”
“You must have gotten your natural talent from him,” he pointed out. “Are you going to become a professional concert pianist?”
“You’re sweet, Kev, but I’m not sure if I’m good enough for that.”
“Yes, you are. Just wait and see how many compliments you get at the unveiling.”
“Yeah,” she deadpanned, “from dirty old men.”
“What about me?”
“You’re young, and you’re no pervert. Besides that, I love you. Hey, Kev, what do you want to do for a living?”
“I haven’t a clue. It’d be nice to find something I like that I’m good at. At least I’d have an idea where to start.”
“You could do anything. You’re a hero, Kev.”
“Ever seen a job ad saying, ‘Hero Wanted?’” 
“You’re funny, Kev.”
“I’m serious.”
“We’ll find something for you, Kev. If you want me to help, that is.”

Chapter Twenty-Six
Kevin’s grandmother walked through the kitchen entrance looking tired. Grandpa must have thought so, too, because he looked up from his laptop and asked, “You okay, Keely?”
“Be a dear and pour me a glass of wine, will you, Kev? Oh, I’m all right,” she said. “Maybe a little exasperated, but I’ll be fine after I relax a bit. I suppose by that time we’ll be heading over for dinner.”
Kevin handed his grandmother her wine. “How are things going with Bonnie and the painting, Gramma?”
“I don’t mean to complain,” she said, looking him in the eye, “but I’ll sure be glad when it’s done. Bonnie is a dear, sweet girl. Talented, too. But she’s a real artist: temperamental, moody, sometimes volatile. You’re lucky she broke up with you.” She took a sip, closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “There. I’m done blowing off steam. I’m just so happy I don’t have to go back until Monday.”
She had been driving to the McGee house in Mount Horeb all week. Just about every picture Bonnie was using for reference was black and white, with the exception of later photographs of Alexander Tchaikovsky, Paul Johnson, and Paul Johnson II, so Kevin’s grandmother had to help her with colors for everything else. 
Grandpa was constantly working on his laptop, planning and coordinating. Plus he was often online, and on the telephone, tracking down parts. But he seemed to be thriving on it. Great-uncle Peter was handling the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage work: figuring out and collecting bills for cars picked up, making bids to insurance companies on wrecks, selling parts online, packing them up and shipping them out. He was also overseeing the cleaning and painting inside the building. In addition, he fielded calls from well-wishers regarding Kevin’s rescue of the woman in the submerged car. He had been taking down names of potential guests for the unveiling. Kevin’s grandfather predicted the calls would ramp up, even before the outcome of yesterday’s press conference, which was scheduled to be on the air for that night’s ten o’clock news. 
Great-aunt Andrea was busy feeding them all, doing laundry and keeping up with the housework at both houses. 
Desiree was arranging music and practicing. Since Kevin’s rehearsals for the press conference were over, he felt like the flunky gofer of the whole operation. All he had to do, until they put the car back together, was mow the lawns. They wouldn’t even let him answer the phone. Great-uncle Peter had to be the first contact with potential VIP’s because of his golden voice and experience with handling people. Maybe, Kevin thought, he’d offer to help him with something. Anything. There must be some mundane task he was capable of. He would ask tonight at the dinner table. Then he recalled that they still had a few parts to clean and paint, and there were the springs. 
They rode in Grandpa’s pickup truck to the Collins’s place for dinner. Grandma said she felt much better, and insisted on helping Andrea in the kitchen while the others watched television in the living room. When the evening network news came on, Kevin quietly asked Desiree how she was doing. She whispered into his ear, “I’m not sick. I’m just having my period. Get use to it, Kev.” 
“Hey! Look at this,” Great-uncle Peter said. “Andrea, Keely, get in here now.”
There was no doubt that his commanding voice could have been heard over at Kevin’s grandparents’ house, and the grandmothers reacted accordingly. 
“What’s going on, Peter?” Great-aunt Andrea asked. 
He pointed at the TV. “The network news guy said to stay tuned for an unprecedented apology by a star NFL fullback.” 
They thought it was supposed to air on the local news later that night. Kevin wondered what had changed things. As usual, when they said stay tuned, they wanted viewers to watch most of the other parts of the broadcast before they showed what they were alluding to. Even so, they all stared ahead in silence, afraid to miss any of it. When the news anchor had repeated exactly what he said earlier, minus the part about staying tuned, Kevin thought he could hear his heart beating. 
“Yesterday, at one of our affiliate stations in Madison, Wisconsin, NFL football great ‘Outrageous’ Andy Baldacci apologized to a young couple for his bad behavior toward them. The unprecedented move by Baldacci was believed to be an attempt to have criminal charges dropped in an effort to salvage his career. Watch this actual event, and see for yourself that Outrageous Andy may have to find a new moniker befitting his new and improved character.”
“Hello, folks, Johnny Sranton with Madison WTMV Sports. With us today we have NFL great Andy Baldacci, Desiree Chantelle, and Kevin Johnson. Andy has agreed to offer an unprecedented apology in order to have criminal charges dropped, thereby saving his career. It’s all yours, Andy.”
“Thank you, Johnny,” Baldacci replied eloquently. “I’m sorry for frightening you, Miss Chantelle, and I want you to know that I’m seeking treatment for anger management.” 
“Thank you, Andy. Apology accepted,” Desiree acknowledged. 
“And I’m sorry for when I grabbed you, Kevin,” said Baldacci. 
Kevin figured they must have edited the daylights out of this thing, maybe even re-shot some of Baldacci’s portion. 
“Thank you for that, Andy,” Kevin watched himself say. “It’s alright if I call you Andy, isn’t it?” 
“Oh, yeah, sure,” replied Baldacci.
“Andy, my family is hosting the unveiling of an exact duplicate of the Baby Grand, a race car that was  driven by my great-grandfather, Paul ‘Throttle’ Johnson, in the 1927 Indianapolis 500. It was secretly owned by Al Capone, and prepared by my great-great-grandfather, Alexander Tchaikovsky. I’d be honored if you would consider me your friend, and join us for this monumental celebration. You’re welcome to bring a guest. It’ll be semi-formal, and we’re expecting many dignitaries in attendance.” 
“That sounds exciting. When will it be?” asked Baldacci.
“Wednesday, August twelfth. The doors open at eleven-thirty a.m., and the actual presentation begins at noon. Light lunch will be served afterwards. We’re hoping the politicians we’ve invited won’t be too long-winded, if any decide to speak,” he said with a smile. “The whole thing should be done by two-thirty. A painting by a new artist from near the Madison area, Bonnie McGee, commemorating the car’s involvement in the 1927 Indy 500 will also be unveiled. The whole thing will take place at the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage building near Darlington, Wisconsin.”
The editing was masterful. Kevin hadn’t detected where they cut or added anything, but of course knew they had. 
The weekend network news anchor came back on: 
“We at this network want to congratulate Outrageous Andy on stepping up and doing the right thing. And who is the mysterious couple, Desiree Chantelle and Kevin Johnson, you may ask? This reporter did some checking and, although I couldn’t find much about Ms. Chantelle, I did find some very interesting things about Kevin Johnson. First of all, his name really is Kevin Johnson, not Clark Kent, and he’s not from the planet Krypton. He’s from Rochester, Minnesota. Why do I even hint at that? Because he’s the same Kevin Johnson that dove down to a submerged car last week and saved a mother of three. Last month, the same Kevin Johnson made a daring rescue of a two year old by getting to him just before a speeding semi-truck ran both of them over. It was so close that several witnesses actually saw the truck knock off one of Kevin’s shoes as he carried the child to safety. Kevin is summering with his grandparents near Darlington, Wisconsin, where his grandfather owns Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. And who is this new artist, Bonnie McGee? I’m not sure … yet, but after Kevin’s rescue of the toddler, guess whose arms he was in? If you guessed Bonnie McGee, you’re right.” 
They had a meeting after dinner. Grandpa said he already made arrangements to farm out the cleaning and painting of the transmission, differential housing, and rebuilding of the springs because he didn’t want to dirty the workshop. Kevin felt even more useless than ever. Then Grandpa went on to say that they would re-assemble the racer in the storage area of the shop. At least he still planned on having them put it together, which he tentatively scheduled to begin on Monday, June twenty-ninth. He wanted the job done by July twenty-fourth. 
On July twenty-seventh it had to get lettered and then go back to the painter for clear-coating. Then they had to run it, make sure everything was as perfect as possible, plus set-up the display and reception area. Grandpa ran the meeting like he was their CEO, which he kind of was. He asked Grandma to report on her progress with Bonnie and the painting. She thought Bonnie might have it done in two weeks, three at the most. He asked Great-aunt Andrea how she was holding up, and she said she hadn’t had this much fun in years. 
Desiree was asked how she was doing. Kevin was kind of wondering that himself. They hadn’t had a chance to talk after watching the news, when the anchorman talked about him in Bonnie’s arms. But when she gave her report she looked at him and smiled when saying he recommended she only work on three hours of music, since that would be the maximum time she’d be playing. She had the songs picked out and would play them tomorrow to make sure everyone approved of her choices. Then she asked when the piano would be delivered to the workshop so she could practice with it. 
Grandpa said the rented baby grand would be delivered on Friday, August seventh, and tuned on Monday the tenth. She could practice the weekend before and then on the day after it was tuned, the day before the actual event. Kevin thought she seemed nervous about not having enough practice time, and apparently so did his grandfather because he assured her that she’d do just fine and shouldn’t over-practice. 
Great-uncle Peter was told to expect the phone to ring nonstop on Monday, and that he could answer calls at the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage office. Kevin was assigned to help him by Googling prospective guests so they could confirm they were the people they wanted there, and let them know right away if they’d be on the guest list. Great-aunt Andrea suggested that she and Desiree bring them food and refreshments. Kevin’s mood lightened. He felt like a valued member of the team again. 
The grandparents played cards at the kitchen table while Desiree resumed his family history lessons. They were back to D.B. and Alex working on the ’37 Ford Deluxe Club Coupe. D.B. bought a Hot Rod magazine when he was in town with his grandfather one day, and that inspired him. The ‘49 Mercury that the engine came from was a brand-new wreck that Alex had towed in and eventually bought from the insurance company. D.B. worked more hours at the salvage yard to pay for the motor after his grandfather convinced him that the big Merc engine with stock aluminum pistons would be better than boring and stroking an old Ford one, since it wouldn’t need rebalancing. But it wasn’t used as-is. 
Alex and D.B. disassembled the engine and “clearanced” it by having the crankshaft polished at a machine shop, while Alex re-honed the cylinders. He also did a mild porting and relieving job, and re-lapped the valves. Everything was cleaned, re-cleaned, and brought into the rarely used clean assembly room off of the regular workshop area. Alex called an old friend from his racing days, Ed Winfield, and arranged to send him the camshaft to be re-ground into ¾ race configuration. Alex, with his attentive apprentice, partially re-assembled the engine, including the oil pump after modifying it for more pressure. 
While waiting for the camshaft to return, Alex showed D.B. how to measure the cylinder volume, and then they did their homework to find the right cylinder heads. Some hot-rodders re-did the stock ones, but Alex was convinced that the custom-made heads from California speed equipment makers were the way to go. He wanted a bit less than a nine-to-one compression ratio when they were done, and Navarro heads were ordered with just the right chamber size to do it. 
While on another trip to town, Alex and D.B. stopped by an auto parts store. On display was an Offenhauser intake manifold with two Stromberg 97 carburetors. It was for sale cheap because it was slightly used. A local boy had bought it, along with two Hollywood mufflers, for his dad’s brand-new 1949 Ford, and put everything on without his father’s knowledge. His dad eventually found out and made him remove the dual carburetor set-up, but allowed the dual exhaust to stay. The boy couldn’t find anyone to sell it to because it was specifically for 1949 Fords and Mercurys and wouldn’t fit the older ones. It was 1949 and no hot rod kids could afford a new car, so he sold it for fifty-percent of the wholesale cost back to the store. 
D.B. had his heart set on a three-deuce intake, but his grandfather convinced him that two carburetors were much better for anything but all-out racing, something he was warned never to do or even talk about since his dad was understandably anti-racing. They all knew Paul would eventually find out about the hot rod, but as of then he hadn’t even known about the car because he was on the road driving truck most of the time. 
No good deal was to be found on a better ignition system, however, and D.B. ended up buying a brand-new dual-point distributor from Harmon & Collins. He liked the name Collins because it was Keely’s last name, even though he could have bought a Mallory or Spalding for a few dollars cheaper. 
During the day, Alex, Uncle Tony, and D.B. took care of business and made money. In the evenings they worked on the hot rod, sometimes with Peter and Keely in attendance. D.B. was constantly on the lookout for the right parts to complete his dream car. One day his grandfather hauled in a wrecked 1939 Lincoln, and he bought the entire hydraulic brake system after learning its benefits in another Hot Rod magazine. Then he found out about putting fifteen inch Buick rims on Lincoln centers. It was a good thing Alex knew how to weld and was a self-made engineer. 
When the camshaft returned, they installed it along with the valves and Lincoln/Zephyr valve springs. After the heads arrived and were bolted on and torqued to specifications, the intake was added minus the carburetors. They would go on after the engine was put in the car. But summer was over and D.B. had to go back to school, slowing production, so the engine was covered and put in storage. 
One Sunday, while having the Collinses over for dinner, Donny Boy stood up and announced that he and Keely were engaged. 

Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Hey, Kev, I got a call.” The light switch flipped on. “Time to wake up,” his grandfather said. The light blinded Kevin, but he squinted through it and sat up. “Be ready in five minutes,” Grandpa added, and shut the door. 
Kevin comprehended where he was and that his grandfather must have gotten a wrecker call. Last night after reaching the part about D.B. and Keely announcing their engagement, it had been time for Desiree and her grandparents to go home. She hadn’t commented about the news guy mentioning him and Bonnie in each other’s arms not that long ago. He still didn’t feel good about it, but what could he do? Still, if their situations were reversed, he wouldn’t be happy. Somehow he felt the need to do something special to make up for it. 
He quickly used the bathroom, and then after washing his hands he dried them in his hair so it wasn’t sticking up all over. He dressed and went to the kitchen, put his boots on, and left, checking to make sure he had his key before closing the door. An unfamiliar vehicle approached. No it wasn’t. He’d seen it several times, just not outside. It was The Beast. He scrambled off the porch and went to the truck. Opening the door, he struggled to get up and into the huge machine. 
“I sure wish you could handle this thing by yourself, Kev. I’m getting too old for climbing up here.” 
“I can’t even drive, Grampa.” 
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Remind me to do something about that. We received a call from the highway patrol. They couldn’t get one of the regulars capable of hauling the bigger stuff. They all probably went out drinking and turned off their cell phones.”
“Where are we going?”
“That’s another thing that ticks me off,” Grandpa grumbled. “We have to drive over ten miles in this gas hog, one way, to the scene of a one-vehicle accident. Some trucker probably fell asleep at the wheel.” Grandpa flicked a knob on the shifter. “I’m putting her in high range,” he explained. “The Beast has a five-speed transmission plus high and low range, which gives us ten. Put it in low range and I can pull almost anything. Put it in high range and we can travel at highway speeds.”
He switched to high-beams as they rumbled down the road in search of the accident scene. Kevin saw the flashing lights way before arriving, and the ambulance was pulling away when they stopped. Highway patrol and sheriff’s cars were on the road’s shoulder, one with a spotlight shining on the vehicle off the side of the road that had smashed into a big tree. 
“I don’t like the look of this one,” Grandpa said. He set the brake lock and the air brakes gave off a huge hiss. Then he told Kevin to stay put, and got out to talk to the policemen. 
The vehicle looked like it had been a school bus long ago, but instead of yellow it had been painted white. The front end damage was severe, and steam was rising from the crumpled hood. Grandpa was listening to the highway patrolman, and soon both were gesturing with their hands. Then he headed back and climbed into The Beast. 
“Get out and go stand by that cop, Kev. He’ll signal me when I back up, but when I stop I want the wheel chocks put in place. After that you can crawl out in the brush with me, hold the flashlight.” 
He got out and stood by as his grandfather backed The Beast into position. When the airbrakes gave off another loud hiss, he went after the wheel chocks and had them in place before his grandfather opened his door. 
When Grandpa’s boots hit the ground he went to work operating levers, and then he tugged a big hook attached to a thick cable. “Come on, Kev, lend a hand here.” 
And so he did with one hand, while shining the flashlight ahead of them with the other. Down the bank and through the ditch they went. 
“We’ll probably spend the rest of the night picking wood ticks,” Grandpa muttered as they forged ahead toward the rear of the bus. Once there, he pointed under and they both stooped down. “See that axle housing?” he said, again pointing. “I want you to crawl under there, wrap this hook around it and then loop it around the cable. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Kevin said and went in, did his job and crawled out. 
Grandpa signaled to follow him and they went back to The Beast. Then he worked a lever and began taking up slack in the cable. “I want everybody standing way back in case something breaks loose,” he ordered, pointing where he wanted Kevin and the highway patrolman to stand. They complied, and slowly the bus was reeled in by The Beast, controlled by his grandfather. At one point, Kevin thought the bus might tip over. But Grandpa went on and off with the controls until it seemed to right itself before pulling steadily. The rear of the bus made it to the roadway, but Grandpa couldn’t get it any closer and said, “I’m going to drag it all the way out by driving The Beast forward. When I get behind the wheel, I want you to pull out the chocks and then replace them after I stop.” 
Off Grandpa went to do his job, and Kevin his. After the whole bus was on the road and the rear end had been lifted higher, Kevin helped his grandfather remove the dolly wheels and axles from The Beast. Then they assembled the system under the bus’s rear wheels. After lowering and unhitching the cable, Grandpa moved The Beast around to the front of the bus so they could attach the hooks there. Then he lifted it up so they could haul it home. It was a way harder job than towing a Corvette, and all of the dolly wheels and axles were heavy. Kevin didn’t know how his grandfather could have done such a thing by himself, but was sure he had. 
Once they were heading home, Grandpa said, “What a job that was. And do you want to know the worst part? We’ll be lucky to make a dime off it. The people in it are most likely dead, and how much do you suppose an old school bus is worth?”
Kevin didn’t answer. He didn’t think he was expected to. 
Kevin and Desiree met at church. She was wearing a navy-blue dress that was below her knees when she was standing. The fabric was thin, but not sheer, and the neckline low enough to hint at cleavage.  She wore her hair long, but today was different as she had the sides back, held in place with fancy hair-clips. Kevin challenged himself to try and remember the minister’s sermon. It was never easy when sitting next to Desiree. The topic was forgiveness, and how if they expected it they also needed to forgive others. 
Kevin hoped Bonnie would forgive him for upsetting her, even though that hadn’t been his intention, and that Desiree would forgive him for having a less than stellar reputation. He was sure, if he were a girl, people would be talking about him, and they wouldn’t be flattering him on his morals. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he also knew how some kids were at his age and that people sometimes assumed they were all the same. 
He hoped his dad would forgive his grandparents, even though they hadn’t done anything wrong. Then he thought about how hurt his grandparents must have been all those years, and hoped they’d forgive his dad for being a jerk. He wished Paul and Alice, and Alex and Maria were around to forgive him, too. Maybe someday that would happen. 
Then he thought of his mother while a hymn was being sung, and then his dad again. He almost cried, and checked to see if Desiree noticed. She hadn’t, and then a tear rolled down his cheek. She looked right at that moment and he had to turn away. He wished his mom would forgive his dad, too, even though he didn’t deserve it. 
When the service was over, he had to get out of there. But Desiree hung onto his arm, making sure he didn’t do it alone. When they were far enough away for privacy, she asked, “What’s wrong, Kev?”
“I was just thinking about my mom, and my jerk dad,” he cried. He really cried. “I told my dad I’d forgive him, but that was before I found out about … everything. I’m trying, but I’m not sure I can do it.” Desiree put her arms around him, comforting him. “Now I’m crying like a girl. How do you like that?”
“You’re not crying with fear,” she said. “You’re expressing emotion. I like that. You know, sometimes I think people can’t just expect automatic forgiveness. They have to earn it. We’ll get through this, Kev. We’ll help each other and get through everything. Okay?” 
“Sure. Thanks, Desiree. Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Not since last night,” she smiled. 
“Shame on me. I love you, Desiree.”
“I love you, too, Kev.”
He looked into her eyes and felt a warm connection. He’d never doubted her, but realized that she really did love him, and it wasn’t just lust. Then he thought how silly it would be for her to lust after him without loving him, and he laughed out loud. 
“What?” she asked, looking truly puzzled.
“I just had a silly thought. Well, it wasn’t really silly. It was a real concern with a silly realization on my part.”
“Oh, why didn’t you just say so? It’s completely clear to me now,” she quipped. 
“It was about love and lust, and how I know you love me but it isn’t just lust. Then I thought: how could you only lust after a guy like me?”
She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed back enough so they were eye-to-eye. “I told you: no putting yourself down. But I’ll let it slide just this once because you had been overwrought with emotion.” She gently rubbed his arms, smiled almost bashfully, and went on, “I’d love you even if you weren’t a hero. But you’re a multiple hero, a serial hero who’s also cute. Besides that, I love the way you talk, the way you think, and the way you treat me. I love the way you treat our grandparents, too. I can’t get enough of you, Kev. Speaking of that, do I get a karate lesson today?”
“Are you feeling up for it?”
“Yes, I am,” she declared. 
Kevin’s sadness was long over. It wasn’t forgotten, though. Desiree brought him out of it so effectively that it was almost as if he enjoyed the memory of it. 
After dinner at the Collins’s house, they listened to her piano recital for over three hours, breaking at about the halfway mark. He loved it, but he’d probably love watching her even if all she did was bang on the keys with a hammer. That, plus the fact that he was sort of musically dyslexic, made him a poor critic. But everyone else thought it was terrific, too. 
After taking a breather and changing, they got to work on their karate. After that they continued family history lessons at his grandparent’s house, thereby blowing off another NASCAR race. It had been at Sonoma, California. He’d had a brilliant idea during karate practice, and planned on checking it out on the internet after walking Desiree home that evening. As for the history, he learned when D.B. announced that he and Keely were engaged at the tender ages of fourteen and thirteen, they both faced shock and awe from the adults. 
First, everyone had assumed that Keely was pregnant, and her mother cried. Her tough Irishman father had been about to slug someone, but apparently D.B. just looked too small to hit. Aunt Lucy’s jaw dropped, and Uncle Tony talked rapidly in Italian. Alex’s and Maria’s dark eyebrows shot up, and Paul appeared to be in a stupor. Keely stood up and proclaimed her virginity, causing her father to sit down, then stand up and ask where the whisky was. 
While libations were poured for all, all the adults that is, Alice began laughing. Alice, of course, had declared her love for Paul when she was even younger. She hadn’t just believed in young love, she lived through it. “Paul,” she had said, “did I or did I not proclaim my love for you at an embarrassingly young age?” 
“Yes, dear, you did. But I was so much older and managed to … rebuff your … advances.”
“Of course,” she’d agreed. “Otherwise you probably would have been arrested. But after all these years, do you think I was mistaken?”
“No, but—”
“No buts, I’m still talking. If Donny and Keely really are in love, why shouldn’t they be engaged? If they don’t belong together, they’ll have plenty of time to find that out. It’s not like they’ll be getting married right away.” Then she’d looked around the room with fire in her eyes. 
The tough Irishman had slugged down his drink. Keely’s mother had stopped sobbing and looked up. The Tchaikovskys’ eyebrows went down. Uncle Tony drank his drink and Aunt Lucy lit a cigarette, their three-year-old daughter Suzy had looked around wide-eyed, trying to figure out what all the excitement was about. 
“Other than their ages,” Alice had gone on, “can anybody think of one good reason why D.B. and Keely shouldn’t be engaged?”
Apparently everyone mulled that one over for awhile until Aunt Lucy said, “Shouldn’t they … experience other people before … jumping into this?”
D.B. stepped forward and said, “I don’t want to experience other people. Keely and I don’t want to be with anyone else. How could we do such things? We’d betray each other and ourselves.” 
Peter just sat back, listening and watching, sure that he’d already done his part on behalf of the family, his sister, and his best friend. Before everyone left, they actually seemed to have comprehended what had happened, and sort of accepted it. There would be no announcement in the paper, but Donny Boy Johnson and Keely Collins were engaged to be married in 1949. 
The next picture was of D.B. behind the wheel of a tow truck. In addition to working on his own cool hot rod and getting engaged, he learned to drive that year, too. He wasn’t allowed out on the road, at least not by himself, but he became more useful around the salvage yard since he could move wrecks around by himself. 
“You better get Desiree home and get some sleep, Kev,” his grandfather said. “I don’t see how you can keep your eyes open.”
When they were walking toward the path, Desiree asked, “What did your grandfather mean when he wondered how you can keep your eyes open?”
“We went on a wrecker call last night,” he told her as they passed the impound lot. Then he stopped, turned around, pointed, and added, “We hauled that bus in around three this morning. It took another half hour or so to get it situated, and then we had to put all the equipment back on the tow truck. We used The Beast.”
“You must be exhausted. We could have skipped the karate practice. For that matter we could have passed on your family history lessons.”
“I wanted to do all that stuff … and be with you. I can sleep any old time, Desiree.”
“You’re so sweet, Kev. You should have told me you were tired. I wouldn’t mind watching over you when you sleep. In fact: I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you.” 
He knew she meant actual sleeping, but thinking about the double meaning was unavoidable. When he looked into her eyes he could tell that it hit her, too. 

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Monday was a madhouse at the office. Great-uncle Peter answered the phone almost non-stop. He scratched down notes while talking, but also re-capped names and addresses so Kevin could Google them to determine if they were guests they wanted. When Kevin had the chance, he typed his notes into a Word document for each caller. 
The network news guy from New York who added the commentary after the taped apology from Andy Baldacci was coming, plus the local sports guy from Madison, and the news anchor who reported on him getting the woman out of her submerged car. 
The mayor of Darlington called, and Great-uncle Peter alluded that they’d be honored to have him come, but inquired if he had any pull with the governor since they hadn’t talked to anyone from his office yet. The mayor promised to check it out and call back. The sheriff and his wife were the next guests, and Great-uncle Peter inquired who he’d recommend to work security at the doors. The sheriff offered two uniformed deputies, no charge. 
At noon, the calls slacked off just as Desiree and her grandmother arrived with lunch. They stayed long enough to eat with them, and the calls didn’t pick up again until about one-thirty. Darlington’s mayor pulled through with not only confirmation on the governor, but one Wisconsin U.S. Senator. He gave the numbers for each and asked that they contact their aides regarding the details. 
Kelly Hart from KTCC-TV News in Rochester called, and Kevin had Great-uncle Peter put her on hold while he told him she was welcome and could bring any guest except Burt. Rochester’s mayor called and was given the same treatment they gave Darlington’s, even though Rochester was a much bigger town. It paid off, too, as he called back promising Minnesota’s governor, as well as the Rochester police chief. So far there was no mention of bribes … uhhh … campaign contributions. 
Later in the afternoon, Great-uncle Peter called Senator Feingold’s office and spoke to one of his aides. He mentioned that Kevin was Alexander Tchaikovsky’s great-great-grandson, and that Alex had been a Russian-Jew who immigrated in 1897. He added that Alex was a brilliant self-made engineer, as well as a wonderful human being. Then he inquired whether Senator Feingold had any connections with the governor of Illinois. 
The heavy phone action dwindled on Wednesday afternoon, so Great-uncle Peter gave Kevin a digital camera, suggested different areas to photograph, and sent him out to poke around the wrecked bus in the impound lot. 
Kevin didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before, but the bus had number 56 painted on the side, similar to how it was done on a race car. It was the same number as on the Baby Grand. Just as he unlocked the chain-link fence, he sensed movement and looked up at the path. Desiree was walking toward him. She gave him a smile as soon as they made eye contact, but since she was quite far away he got to view her entire form heading at him, something he rarely could because her eyes drew his with a magical pull. 
Her gait was a cross between runway model and athlete but perfectly natural with flowing, relaxed movements, making her look both strong and feminine. She could be the desired outcome from a charm school, any of which would be lucky to have her on their advertisements. Her thick, dark hair flowed behind her in the breeze. She oozed with grace and beauty and, although not at all fat, as she came closer he noticed her breasts had a nice jiggle as she walked. 
“I thought you and my grandfather would be slaving away on the phones, Kev,” she smiled.
“I think the hoopla is winding down,” he shared, “so your grandfather sent me to check out the bus and take pictures.”
“For the insurance company?”
“Probably. Come on,” he encouraged, “let’s look around.”
There were several cars in the impound lot. Most had been there when he arrived for his stay. The Corvette, of course, was long gone. Baldacci sent some of his “people” to pay the bill and pick it up. There was a white BMW 325i that he wondered what could be worth keeping. It had gone off the road and rolled-over in a ditch, crumpling every body panel just enough to make them useless. The windshield popped out at the accident scene, and all the other glass had shattered into zillions of tiny pieces that littered the interior. The car was covered with a tarp, since his grandfather believed the gauges and upholstery were salvageable, but Kevin had pulled it back once so he could see inside. 
They walked past the BMW and on to the bus. 
The front end was smashed into a deep “V.” He snapped a picture and moved on. His grandfather told him the owner died on the way to the hospital, and the only passenger had been seriously injured. The side door was open and flies were feasting on dried blood inside. He stepped back and snapped another picture. He doubted anyone had been in it, other than the EMTs, since the accident. He held his breath so he wouldn’t inhale a fly, stepped up and looked back, still holding his breath as he made his way through the flies and back out. 
“What’s in there, Kev?”
“Nothing much. A few seats. But there’s a partition right about here,” he said while pointing about where he thought it was. They walked back and he stepped away and took another picture, one of a rear wheel. They kept going beyond the back of the bus and he turned, stooped, and snapped another shot. Then he noticed latches on each side of the rear, securing what looked like an improvised tailgate. The bus was customized so the whole rear could open, hinged at the bottom. 
“Step off to the side a bit, Desiree.” 
She complied, but said, “You open that latch and I’ll do this one.”
They opened the latches, but nothing happened so he grabbed a nearby handle. Desiree did the same, they exchanged glances, and then they pulled. The rear body of the bus started coming down, clamshell style, but had some sort of spring and cable mechanism so it required little exertion. As the opening grew, he looked inside and saw a race car … in miniature. It was very close in color to his grandfather’s ’37 Ford hot rod. 
“Kevin. This looks just like the race car in my dream. It’s a real car.”
The tailgate stopped short of the ground, being supported by a cable on each side that spooled out. There were aluminum ramps beneath the tailgate, held in place with rubber bungee cords hooked to metal loops, for unloading the car. He climbed up and peered in, saw that the race car had a roll cage and a single seat. 
“I wonder what kind of racer this is?” he asked, not expecting her to know, just thinking out loud. 
“Take a picture of it, Kev,” she urged. And so he did. 
He took another after climbing down. They closed the bus up and left, locking the gate behind them, and walked to the office. Great-uncle Peter was tapping away on the keyboard and glanced up at them, looking over his reading glasses. Kevin knew he liked him, but his face absolutely lit up when he saw Desiree. 
“Hey, sweetie,” he said, “what’re you doing over here?”
“I’m all practiced out, so I thought I’d see what you guys are up to. Kevin and I just saw the coolest thing, Grampa.”
“Oh, yeah? What was that?”
“A little race car. Kevin took pictures of it. It’s inside that old bus.” 
That evening, during their after-dinner meeting at the Collins’s house, Great-uncle Peter was giving his progress report when he said, “Oh yeah, confirmation on that Bimmer came through, and it now belongs to Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. And that farmer is haying your field down the road tomorrow. Let’s see. Oh, yeah, Desiree and Kevin found some sort of a little race car in the back of that bus.”
“I had a dream that Kevin was driving one just like it,” Desiree beamed. 
“That reminds me,” Kevin’s grandfather said. “I was supposed to teach you two to drive this summer, wasn’t I?” 
“I thought we’d gotten too busy for that, with everything we’ve been doing,” Kevin remarked. 
“We’ll fit it in,” Grandpa said. “The timing is perfect because after that field is cut and everything hauled away, it’ll make a great place for you to learn. We can use that little BMW. Kevin, first thing tomorrow we’ll move the Bimmer closer to the building. I’ll check it over, and you’ll clean all the broken glass out with the shop-vac. Remember to wear goggles and a hat. Will you and Desiree be free early Friday morning for driving lessons?”
Kevin looked at Desiree and could tell she was delighted. He was excited, too, but also apprehensive. He didn’t think steering and stepping on gas and brake pedals could be all that hard, but remembered being told that the BMW had a manual transmission: another way to embarrass himself in front of Desiree. “Sure, Grampa. Thank you,” he said in spite of his fear. 
“Thanks, Uncle Don,” Desiree squealed. 
“There’s no windshield, so everyone will have to wear sun or safety glasses,” Grandpa added. 
And the next day, right after breakfast, Kevin and his grandfather were loading the BMW sedan onto the tow truck for its short trip to just outside the rear garage door to the shop. Once the car was back on the ground, Grandpa put the wrecker away while Kevin retrieved two extension cords and the shop-vac, along with his safety glasses. He was already wearing one of his grandfather’s Harley caps. While he sucked up a seemingly endless supply of tiny glass pieces, his grandfather hooked up the battery charger and inspected under the hood. Next, he brought out an air hose and checked the tires. Kevin was still finding glass particles when Grandpa said, “I’m going on the internet to see which fuses to pull so I can disable the stability control, traction control, and anti-lock brakes. If you’re done before I get back, I’ll be in the office.” 
Kevin wondered what he could be thinking, disabling all that stuff when he and Desiree didn’t even know how to drive. But he went back to work, put on a narrow attachment to reach hard-to-get places. When he thought he was done he went through the whole interior again, and finished just as his grandfather walked out holding papers that he must have printed off. 
“Think I can sit in the front passenger seat yet, Kev?”
“I’m all done, Grampa.”
He sat down, opened the glove box, and fished out his reading glasses. Before long he pocketed what must have been some fuses, smiled and said, “There.”
“Umm ... Grampa?”
“Yeah, Kev?”
“Why did you want to … disable all that stuff?”
“So you and Desiree can really learn to drive. I want you to get a feel for vehicle dynamics and how your input affects things. This car will be perfect since it has rear-wheel drive and a manual transmission.”
“What makes that better?”
“You’ll see. Now let’s find out if this thing still runs. I sure hope so because I bought it and intend to part-out the whole drivetrain. When we’re done with it, that is.”
He got out, went around the other side, and climbed behind the wheel. Since the doors were open, as soon as he put the key in the ignition a chime started. That didn’t faze him, though. He set the parking brake, stepped on the brake and clutch pedals, made sure the transmission was in neutral, and turned the key. After a couple seconds of cranking, it fired up. He got out and unhooked the battery charger, and they stepped back, watching and listening. 
It sounded normal to Kevin, but his grandfather periodically checked the gauges and stooped down to see if anything was leaking. After about ten minutes, Kevin peaked inside to look at the gauges himself. 
“There are some red lights on the gauge panel, Grampa.”
He rushed over, looked, and then smiled. “They’re telling us that the stability control, traction control, and anti-lock brakes aren’t working. That’s the plan, remember? Run up to the house and get me my sunglasses by the refrigerator, will you, Kev? I want to take this baby for a ride.”
Kevin took off, literally running. When he got to the porch he saw a package near the door. The return address reminded him that he ordered a present for Desiree, and this was it. UPS must have dropped it off. He set it inside, grabbed his grandfather’s sunglasses, and headed out. By the time he got back to the shop, Grandpa had pulled the car around to the front of the building. Kevin handed over the sunglasses. 
“I want to make sure it’s safe enough for you and Desiree,” Grandpa said, moved the shifter into gear, and took off. 
The road out front didn’t get much traffic, so Kevin heard him winding it up and going through the gears. When Grandpa came back he had a closed-lip smile on his face, and motioned for Kevin to hop in. 
“With no windshield, it’s kind of like riding a bare-naked motorcycle, Kev. Keep your mouth closed or you’ll be eating bugs,” he added, shifted into gear, and drove them to the back of the building where he backed it inside the garage door. 
On Friday morning, they picked-up Desiree at the Collins’s house and then headed back toward the Johnson place and beyond to the field that had been hayed the day before. Grandpa drove around a bit before stopping, set the parking brake, and shut the engine off. 
“Okay, Desiree, ladies first. Kevin, you get in the back. And make sure to put your seatbelts on.” When they were ready, he continued, “After you two turn fifteen, you’ll go to driver’s training and get your permits. They’ll teach you all about the rules of the road, and then you’re supposed to learn how to handle a vehicle sort of by osmosis. By that time you’ll be way ahead of the game. Desiree, I’m sure you’ve seen shift knobs before, so you already know the shift pattern is usually on ‘em, right?” 
“Yes, sir, Uncle Don.”
“Okay, now step on the clutch and show me how you know the transmission is in neutral.”
She moved the shifter back and forth and up and down until satisfied she had it in neutral. 
“Okay, Desiree, that’s good. Leave it in neutral, keep the clutch in and your other foot on the brakes, and turn the key, releasing it after the engine catches.”
The starter whirred, the engine caught, and she looked back at his grandfather. 
“Move the shifter into first gear. Okay, good. Now, release the parking brake, take your foot off the brake pedal, and slowly let the clutch out without stepping on the gas.”
The car lurched forward and the engine died. 
“Okay, that’s good,” he said. “Now push the clutch back in, step on the brakes, and start it again.” 
She repeated the routine, making it a little further before killing the engine and letting out an exasperating sigh. 
“You’re doing great, Desiree,” he assured. “You’ve already almost got it. Don’t tell your grandfather I told you, but you’re doing better than he did the first time he was behind the wheel.”
“You taught my grandfather to drive?” she asked. 
He smiled and said, “No, my father did. Why do you think he’s such a good driver? Now push the clutch in with a foot on the brakes and re-start. Okay, good. Now, take your foot off the brakes and slowly let the clutch out, giving it just a little gas.”
That time they lunged ahead briefly, the car bucked, and the engine died. 
“Arrghhh!” she said. 
“Relax, Desiree,” said the calm instructor. “Let’s try it again.”
“Maybe you should just let Kevin take over, Uncle Don.”
“When you’re this close to getting it? No way. Come on. One more time.”
She started the car without coaching, and took off without killing the engine. As they raced ahead, his grandfather said, “Let off on the gas just a titch, Desiree, and watch where you’re steering. 
“Yeah, that a girl. 
“Okay, now keep going the same speed and turn left. 
“A little more until we’re going back the way we came from. 
“Good. 
“Okay, now turn to the right and go back again. 
“Now I want you to let off the gas and push the clutch in at the same time. 
“Good. Now gently apply the brakes, and keep holding the clutch down.”
They stopped a bit abruptly, but the seat belts held them in place and the motor was still idling. 
“Okay, Desiree,” his grandfather said, “take off again. Concentrate on smoothness.”
She did, and it was pretty smooth. Kevin leaned over and could see her sparkling eyes in the rearview mirror. 
“Now what should I do, Uncle Don?”
“Head over that way,” he pointed, which was pretty easy without a windshield in the way, “and go a little faster.
“Okay, now push in the clutch and let off the gas, all at once, and move the shifter into second gear. Great. Now let out the clutch and give it some gas.”
There was a little jolt, and they raced ahead. 
“Not so much on the gas … yeah, right there. You’ve got it. Now do a series of turns and take us back to our starting point.”
Desiree wove her way around the freshly cut field, a smile on her face.
“I forgot to tell you to keep your mouth closed when you smile or you’ll be eating bugs,” Grandpa told her. 
She let out a little laugh and then clamped her lovely lips shut, stifling a giggle. 
“Now push in the clutch, let off the gas, and touch the brakes very gently. 
“Okay, move the shifter into first gear, give just a little gas, and let out the clutch. 
“Now back off the gas all the way, push the clutch in, and gently apply the brakes.”
They came to a gradual stop, and Desiree smiled proudly at his grandfather. 
“Pull out the parking brake, keeping your feet on the clutch and brake pedals, and turn the key to off,” he instructed. “Great. Now you can let the clutch out, release the brake pedal, and we’ll see if Kevin can come close to your marvelous performance.”
“Yeah right,” she said happily, “marvelous performance. Hah!”
Kevin only hoped he could do as well. 

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Saturday was mowing day, so Kevin had plenty of time to contemplate his first driving lesson while riding the John Deere lawn tractor. He was also keeping a secret he could never divulge: he’d felt like a natural behind the wheel but had to dumb down his abilities so as not to show up Desiree and hurt her feelings. She was so happy about how she’d done that he just couldn’t spoil it for her. It wasn’t that she had done a bad job, he thought she did great, but he wanted his grandfather’s positive reinforcement to keep working. He was a marvelous instructor with lots of patience, and Kevin believed Desiree would be above average in driving just as she was in everything else. But he had the feeling that he was way above average. Finally something. But what good would it be in the real world? 
His grandfather promised, weather permitting, they’d each get an hour behind the wheel every week, hopefully on Friday. He said if they were ahead of schedule on the Baby Grand, they might even get more. After finishing the house’s lawn, and the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage property, he ran the path to the Collins’s house to do theirs. When within earshot, he could hear Desiree at the piano. He didn’t even stop to say hello. He just got their lawn tractor out and went to work, hoping not to disrupt her. 
After finishing and putting Great-uncle Peter’s lawn tractor away, he hurried toward the path when he heard, “Kevin!” and looked back. It was Desiree, so he turned and went to her.
“What’s the rush, Kev? You didn’t even stop in to say hi.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your practice,” he told her. 
“I’m done. I’m so done, Kev. I’ve practiced and practiced ‘til I can’t stand it anymore.”
“How about karate practice? Could you stand that?” 
“Sure. You know, Kev, I didn’t think karate would be so much work. I thought you just magically acquired this special knowledge and became invincible. But after awhile I decided I wouldn’t trade my workouts with you for anything, no matter how hard you push me.”
“Thank you, Desiree. But if I ever go too far, please tell me. I don’t want you to strain anything.”
“I appreciate the thought, Kev, but I’m a big girl and can take lots.”
She certainly was a big girl. A big, lovely girl packed full of energy. They were almost the same height barefoot—her having a slight edge—and although he’d never say so, he believed she outweighed him. Her hips were so much bigger than his, as was her perfectly rounded backside. And although her waist was narrower, it tapered up to … well, there was just no way to compare her upper body shape with his, or any part of her body. He bet she would cause traffic accidents on any busy street in the world. She was all girl, with great muscle tone thrown in as an added bonus. “I have a surprise for you when I get back, Desiree.”
“What?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?”
“Kevin!”
“I’ll be back,” he said, and trotted off down the trail. 
Kevin’s grandmother thought the only wrapping paper they had was for Christmas and birthday presents. He settled for the colored comic section from last Sunday’s paper, wrapped Desiree’s gift, and headed back to the Collins’s house. It was a beautiful summer day. Warm, but not too hot in the shade. Luckily, their yard had a few big shade trees they could work out under. 
As he stepped onto their massive porch, he looked down at his boots and pants and noticed lots of grass clippings. He’d checked himself before going inside his grandparents’ house, so he must have picked up fresh clippings when walking across the Collins’s yard. He stopped in his tracks and was brushing himself off when the door opened. Desiree came out looking so vibrant in her thin, loose fitting pants and her low-cut T-shirt that he almost hated to change a thing. But he relented and held out the package.
“What’s this?” she squealed. “My surprise? What’s the occasion, Kev?”
“Just open it,” he urged. 
She tore at the paper like a tiger, exposing its contents in about two seconds.
“Oh, Kevin! It’s wonderful: my very own karate uniform. What did I do to deserve this? It’s not my birthday.”
“It’s a thank you for teaching me the family history.”
“Thank you so much, Kevin.”
The next thing he knew, she had her arms around him and her lips on his. When they finally came up for air, he said, “I’m all sweaty, stinky, and full of grass, Desiree.”
She looked at him, wriggled her nose, smiled and said, “Yes, you are. Would you like to take a shower before you put on your gi?”
“I’ll need one afterwards, anyway. Why don’t you just get my gi, and I’ll change in the garage.”
“Kevin, that’s totally unnecessary. Take your clothes off here, and I’ll shake everything out and put ’em in the wash machine. We’ll break during practice long enough to put ‘em in the dryer, and after we’re finished you can shower and put on clean stuff.”
“Right out here on the porch? What will your grandparents say?”
“They went to town for groceries. I don’t think they’d mind even if they were here, but maybe you better leave your undies on.” 
“You think?” he said sardonically. 
“Just shut up and strip,” she said and went back in the house, returning with his gi. 
“I’m watching you so I know how to do it, Kev.”
She hadn’t been kidding, either. She scrutinized his every move as he put the pants on, tightened and tied them, then the jacket-like top, lastly wrapping his green belt around his waist a couple of times and tying it. His boots stayed outside, but Desiree carried away his pants and shirt, returning five minutes later wearing her gi. 
“How do I look?” she asked, pirouetting like a beautiful yet dangerous ballerina with meat on her bones. 
“You look like a more serious student of the martial arts, Desiree.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “How come your belt is green and mine is the same off-white as the outfit, Kev?”
“You start out with a white belt and have to test out with a certified instructor to earn colored ones.”
“So, what comes after white?”
“Yellow.”
“And then?”
“Green, brown, and black.”
“How am I doing? When do you think I could earn a yellow?”
“You’re coming along very nicely,” he praised, “but you’d have to test out with a real instructor. I couldn’t do it until I had at least a brown belt, and for that a black belt would have to test me.” 
“When will you be ready?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’d have to go to a dojo and study under a master. I bet the closest place would be Madison, but we don’t have time for that.”
“I thought you could just test out now, after taking care of that football goon.”
Kevin sighed. “Desiree, I didn’t learn the move that got me out of his grip from karate. The only part where karate experience helped was when I broke his nose.”
“So you must be a natural, huh?”
“I’m thinking I got lucky,” he admitted, “or a guardian angel intervened. Come on, let’s get to work.” 
They were sitting on the porch cooling off when Desiree went inside, got them lemonades, and they talked. She wanted to know when they would be breaking concrete blocks with their hands. Kevin explained that harder styles of karate training included building-up calluses on the striking surfaces of the hands and feet to facilitate such feats, and he thought she might not want to get into it that far. But he assured her she could be dangerous without breaking boards and bricks. 
When they went inside, he took Desiree up on her offer and showered … alone. Although, when he was in there, she came in with his clean clothes and asked if he needed help scrubbing anything. Even though behind a translucent shower curtain, it unnerved him. But she was kidding, right?” Before he could get his clothes on, her grandparents arrived with the groceries. When he got out of the bathroom, Desiree was still in her gi, helping put things away. 
Since they’d be dining at the Collins’s place that night, he called his grandfather and told him he’d stay there, and ride home with them. Grandpa said they finally got a letter from his folks, and he’d bring it with. Kevin thought it was about time. They’d been gone for almost a month and he hadn’t heard a thing from them. Then he remembered his grandfather predicting that mail would take three weeks to get there. After Desiree got out of the shower, he told her about it, and she wondered why he hadn’t rushed over there. So he asked if she wanted to go for a walk with him.
Of course his grandfather was surprised to see them. But pleasantly so, and they all sat down at the kitchen table while Kevin read the letter out loud. 
Dear Kev,
It took us a week to get to the remote mountain village where we’re living and working. We confirmed, as your father thought, that we’ll be here a little longer than two months. I’m very sorry, Kev. We hope to be back on Sunday, August ninth.  It’s a little different than we thought it would be. Since it’s at a relatively high elevation, it isn’t nearly as hot as we anticipated, but it certainly is remote. 
And it turns out that there are plenty of doctors in the country, but not too many where we are so I guess that’s why we’re here. Another thing there are plenty of is mosquitoes, although they aren’t as numerous up here. Even so, I’m sure glad we had our malaria shots. 
We’re getting along well with each other, and it’s a good thing because there really isn’t anybody else to socialize with. We’ll try to send more mail, but everything leaves here on a pack mule or donkey. We love you and hope you’re getting along all right. If you need to get a message to us, email lutheranmissions@aol.com and they will forward it to us by way of a Catholic priest that comes up every other Sunday. 
Love, 
Mom (& Dad)
P.S.  Say hello to Grandma and Grandpa for us. 
Kevin folded it, put it back in the envelope, and sighed. “I sure hope they get back before the unveiling.” 
“We’ve already invited so many VIPs to come on August twelfth,” his grandfather said, “that I don’t see how we can change it.” 
“Send an email,” Desiree said. “Tell them they absolutely have to be here no later than noon on August twelfth for a very important function with many VIP guests, including them. Do you know who the boss at the Mayo Clinic is, Kev?” 
“I sort of know the physicians’ senior administrator. He’s been to our house before.” 
“Okay, tell them he’ll be there and two or three governors, and at least one U.S. Senator, the mayor of Rochester … pour it on. Tell them they must attend,” she insisted. 
“How do we know the senior administrator’ll come?” he countered. 
“If inviting him doesn’t work,” she said, “have the mayor persuade him. If that doesn’t work, tell him the chief of police will pick him up one way or the other. They have to be here, Kevin. Tell them their jobs depend on it, or something.” 
He and Desiree spent the remainder of the afternoon continuing his studies, until his grandmother came home, rested up, and then they drove over to the Collins’s for dinner. After dinner, the grandparents talked them in to playing cards with them. They actually had fun. 
Sunday was a beautiful sunny day and they didn’t have to do any work, at least Kevin and Desiree didn’t. She looked gorgeous in her yellow-print cotton dress, a sundress. It flowed like a nightgown, at least that was the impression it gave him. 
It was the first time he actually noticed how men outside the family looked at her. Now he knew she wasn’t kidding when she told him that all the guys want to do is jump her bones, and they were in church! Every male over the age of eleven seemed fixated on her. He was certain it was her body they lusted after, because none of them really knew her. He couldn’t blame them, though. That was the effect she had on him before he got to know her. Still, it made him feel as flawed as the men and boys around them. It was no wonder she wanted to become proficient at karate. He’d have to show her some of the dirty tricks Brian taught him. Where he picked them up, Kevin had no idea. They took the same karate classes, so it wasn’t there. He probably learned them from his old man. 
When the preacher said the topic of today’s sermon was fidelity, fidelity to God, fidelity to your family, and fidelity to your one and only spouse, you could have heard a pin drop … on carpeting. Not only that: ogling of the lovely young woman next to Kevin ceased. Maybe the minister picked up on all the brain waves of depravity. Nah, he had probably prepared this discourse long ago. Maybe he knew what pigs guys were and did re-runs periodically, because he sure had it down pat. 
He closed by saying that without fidelity to God, you’re probably doomed in all other attempts at loyalty to others. People often complain about long winded preachers, but Kevin noted the time when the sermon began and glanced at his watch when it was over. Eight minutes was all it took, and he thought he remembered the whole thing. This guy was good. 
After church, the grandmothers worked on dinner preparations. Great-aunt Andrea put a turkey in the oven early that morning, and the aroma was wonderful. Kevin guessed they’d be having leftovers, at least turkey sandwiches, for lunch tomorrow. 
And after dinner, Desiree played half of the routine she’d use at the unveiling. Then they had the rest of the afternoon to themselves, so Desiree changed clothes and off they went down the path so he could eventually change his. Of course they took a detour to their oasis in the woods on the way. That was where the routine changed. Desiree got real close, and quietly asked what he thought about the sermon at church. 
“Most of it was common sense,” he replied. 
“Wasn’t it, though,” she agreed, nodding. 
“Except that most males lose all sense when they look at you,” he added. 
“So,” she said, “is that my fault? What am I supposed to do? Frump myself up? Dumb myself down? I like looking nice. Makes me feel good about myself.” 
He put a hand on each of her shoulders, and said, “You’re just fine the way you are. Perfect. You’re so perfect, you’re an anomaly: a pearl among marbles. You don’t have to try hard to look good. You don’t have to try at all.” 
“What’s wrong with a girl wanting to be at her best?” she went on defensively. “If we all took care of ourselves, wouldn’t we be more attractive to our, our … mates, and therefore be encouraging fidelity?”
“You’re absolutely right,” he assured her. “Although, now that I know and love you, I’d love you no matter what. But—”
“But what?” she said, eyebrows narrowing. 
“Sometimes I get so enthralled, just looking at you, that I forget to breathe. That, my dear Desiree, is what they call breathtaking beauty. Something I confess thoroughly enjoying.” 
She touched her lips to his, gave him a slow but gentle kiss. Before he knew it she had half the buttons on his shirt undone. 
“What are you doing to me, Desiree?”
“Taking off everything but your underwear.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” he stammered. 
“I think it’s a great idea,” she said while pulling the shirt from his shoulders. Then she draped it over a post and undid his belt. 
“Oops, I forgot your shoes and socks,” she said and stooped down on one knee. “Hang onto my shoulders, Kev.” 
After untying his shoes, she lifted with one hand, sort of like a farrier does with a horse, slipped off a shoe and sock and then did the same with his other foot. 
“After I’m done, you get to take off my clothes,” she said, looking up at him. “Don’t worry, Kev, you’ll cool off once we get in the water.”
She must have already undone the button, as he felt the zipper going down. She slowly lowered his pants, holding them by the waistband. He was totally distracted by the pounding of his heart, but thought he heard an imperceptible gasp from her. 
“Put your hands back on my shoulders and step out, Kev.”
Once that was done, she stood up with his pants and set them on top of his shirt. There he was in his boxer shorts, pulling Desiree’s T-shirt over her head, being careful not to snag her dainty earrings. Her arms were stretched up and he found even her armpits provocative. He hung her shirt on a post and went back to undo the plastic clip holding the little purse-pack around her waist. He set it on the bench and went to her, unbuttoned her blue jeans. Getting down on one knee, he swallowed hard and unzipped them. She was wearing sandals and had already kicked them off. He looked up at her and slid her pants down to her ankles; she grabbed his shoulders and stepped out of them. He stood, turned, and hung them on the post. 
When he turned back, their eyes locked. She looked beyond sexy, standing there in her matching brown and black tiger striped bra and panties. Aside from the lingerie, all she wore were little silver earrings and a smile of satisfaction. Then he detected something in his peripheral vision and looked down. His little guy, having escaped through the fly of his boxers, was standing at attention—fully. Mortified, he glanced back at her, recognized her knowing gaze for what it was, and ran off, cannonballing the pool. 
He looked as she approached using her best feminine swagger, way better than most runway models because hers wasn’t put-on. Her smile had widened and she came right in, stopped directly in front of him. She was so close he worried that his object of embarrassment would touch her. “Why didn’t you tell me I was … sticking out?” he scolded. 
“Kevin, we can always talk about anything and everything, but no yelling.”
“I’m not yelling, I’m just … excited.”
“Okay,” she laughed, “I’ll give you that. You did get awfully excited.”
“It’s not funny.”
“No,” she said shaking her head, “it’s not. It’s awesome,” she added, nodding. 
“We’re supposed to be covered up somewhat. How long was I … out in the open?”
“When I pulled your pants down, you kind of … flopped out.” She shrugged. “The opening in your shorts is sort of big, you know.”
“You could’ve said something.”
“If we were out in public and your zipper was down, I’d tell you. If we were at the beach and you were exposing yourself, I’d cover you up and tell you. But we’re alone in a private place.” 
“We agreed to keep our underwear on,” he reminded her. “You know, to make it more … innocent.”
“We are wearing our underwear,” she insisted. 
“Part of me wasn’t.” He didn’t say anything else, sulking. 
“I just wanted to … look at it. Girls like eye candy, too, you know, Kev.” 
Guiltily, he remembered looking through Brian’s dad’s Playboys. 
“The illustrations in sex-ed just don’t compare to the real thing,” she rationalized. “Of course, I’ve seen them on animals. And when Mom and I caught my dad and his boyfriend, I saw one … make that two,” she rattled on, “but that was so icky. Watching yours … develop was so … amazing. Besides,” she challenged, “who else should see it but me? And,” she purred, “you know I’ll be seeing it again.” 
He broke eye contact, contemplating. 
“Oh, c’mon,” she begged, ending the silence, “please don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up to you,” she offered, advancing even further. 
That afternoon he missed the Loudon, New Hampshire NASCAR race. 

Chapter Thirty
Rain was falling when Kevin went to breakfast on Monday morning. After breakfast they were going to pick up the frame and all the other parts they’d had powder-coated, but Grandpa wanted to keep everything clean and dry. So he decided to rent an enclosed truck, arranged to pick one up in Platteville. They hitched a ride with Grandma, who was on her way to Bonnie’s in Mount Horeb. 
After Grandma dropped them off at a U-Haul dealer, they got their truck, drove to Stoughton—not far from Lake Kegonsa where Kevin rescued the woman from her submerged car—and retrieved the parts. When they got back to the shop, Grandpa backed the truck near the rear garage door and told Kevin to open it and move the little Bimmer enough so he could fit the truck inside. It was Kevin’s first practical application of his new driving skills. 
They carried the bare frame over to a clear spot in the storage area and set it on jack stands. By the time they had everything else unloaded, it was almost one o’clock. Grandpa said they were going out for lunch, and then the door from the wrecker stall opened. It was Desiree. She had just finished bringing lunch over and having it with her grandfather when they thought they heard something and she came to see if it was them. Kevin told her what they were doing, and she asked if she could come with. His grandfather said she could but had to ask her grandfather first. 
They didn’t really accomplish much after that, other than eating lunch in front of Desiree and bringing the truck back. But everything was coordinated well, his grandmother picking them up right on schedule. For some reason, he didn’t mind riding in the cramped back seat of the Mustang with Desiree. 
Great-uncle Peter said he had success with the senior administrator from the Mayo Clinic. In fact, the guy requested having two of their public relations people come along. 
On Tuesday morning, a cordless phone was hooked up to the Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage line, and Desiree’s workshop desk was moved closer to the storage area. She staffed the phone, and also checked off everything as they began assembly on the Baby Grand. Great-uncle Peter assisted. After work, Kevin and Desiree practiced karate in her grandparents’ basement before supper—it was raining—and she her piano after. 
During the evening, they began crafting an email to the Lutheran Missions stating that his parents absolutely had to be in Darlington, Wisconsin no later than noon on August twelfth. Grandpa and Great-uncle Peter found a way to imply that their family and their careers depended on it, but also said they needn’t worry about a thing as long as they made it. It was Wednesday before they finished reviewing, revising, and correcting it, and sent it out. 
It rained on and off most of the week, but they were so busy in the workshop that it didn’t matter. Grandpa and Great-uncle Peter actually welcomed it because it had been so dry that they were afraid of having trouble with their wells. Kevin and Desiree had no time for history lessons, romance lessons, or romance at all. Dipping in the pool was out of the question, too. By Friday they had the engine, transmission, rear end, driveshaft, springs, steering gear, and axles installed. The only things lacking to make for a complete rolling chassis were the backing plates, brakes, and wheels. The Baby Grand was taking shape. 
It had quit raining but was way too wet to mow the grass on Saturday. Kevin’s grandfather said conditions on the field would be perfect for advanced vehicle control lessons, though. So they drove the BMW to the Collins’s place after breakfast, with Grandpa behind the wheel since they were on the road. They were wearing three-quarter coverage helmets in addition to their safety glasses. They opted for those instead of sunglasses because it was still cloudy, and Kevin grabbed Desiree’s off the desk before they got the 325i out. 
“What’s with the helmets?” she asked after climbing into the back seat.
“Yours is back there, too, along with safety glasses. Put ’em on and give Kevin your sunglasses and he’ll stick ’em in the glove box,” his grandfather said. “Your helmet belongs to Keely, and Kevin has one of my old ones. I don’t plan on crashing today, but who ever does?” He put the Bimmer in gear, and they took off down the road. 
 “Today, we’ll work on advanced vehicle control,” he said, once at the field. “This is a great car for it, especially since I disabled the stability system, traction control, and anti-lock brakes. All of those things are good and have their uses, but unless you learn the basics without them, you’ll never really understand what’s going on, and you’ll never feel how your input affects the car. The other reason why this car is better for what we’re doing is because it has rear wheel drive. What’s good about that is how you can steer with the gas pedal. Watch and listen,” he said, and they took off. 
Once he had them at a moderate speed in second gear, he turned the wheel left and hit the gas. They spun out but the motor was still running. He must have pushed in the clutch, because they were standing still. 
“I just demonstrated power-induced oversteer. I applied too much throttle, spun the rear tires, lost adhesion, and we spun-out. I’ll do it again, only this time I’ll modulate the throttle. We’ll still slide, but this will be a controlled slide. Notice, when we do, I’ll turn the steering wheel toward the direction the rear end is drifting to. You’ll see that we’ll end up turning left, even though the front wheels are actually aimed right, and vice versa.”
At roughly the same speed as before, he turned the wheel left and applied more throttle. The rear end drifted right and the engine made more noise as it was turning a higher rpm. Then he turned the steering wheel to the right. Kevin could tell that he was also playing with the gas pedal, and instead of spinning out they drifted around left with the car just a little bit sideways. 
Soon Desiree was behind the wheel doing it. Really doing it. She caught on right away. Kevin was glad because he wouldn’t have to sandbag for fear of hurting her feelings. Mud and grass sprayed all over the place when he was behind the wheel. His grandfather laughed and said, “It’s only dirt. It’ll wash off, and you’re cleaning it.” 
Their next lesson was what happened to cornering ability with the brakes locked up. There was no cornering ability, at least not with the front wheels locked. The idea was to slow down enough to negotiate the turn first, then let off the brakes and maybe add a little power through the turn. Locking up the rear brakes, via the parking brake, produced results similar to spinning the wheels with too much power. His grandfather did show them a neat trick with it, though: bootleg u-turns like in the movies. 
Kevin and Desiree each got an hour behind the wheel so, with Grandpa’s demos and instructions, they spent about three hours out there. After dropping Desiree off, they drove home to the shop. Grandpa reminded Kevin that it was his job to wash the car, and he had to do it without getting water inside. 
“How do I do that, Grampa?”
“Give it a sponge bath. When you’re done, put it away and lock up. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was July fourth, and they were having a picnic at the Johnson place. Well, sort of a picnic. Grandpa barbequed hamburgers and bratwursts on the grill, between raindrops, while the grandmothers showed Kevin and Desiree how to make potato and fruit salads. It was his grandmother’s first Saturday off in a long time. Great-uncle Peter was doing something on the computer; he wouldn’t say what. Grandma said she expected Bonnie to finish the painting that week. Kevin could tell she was excited and relieved. And, to his delight, the NASCAR race was an evening one at Daytona. They watched the whole thing, except for the grandmothers who cleaned the kitchen and spent the remaining time playing cribbage. 
The workweek began bright and early Monday morning. It had stopped raining but everything was still wet. The grass needed cutting but would have to wait. On Tuesday, Kevin sat on the Baby Grand’s floor pan, pushed the brake pedal when called for while the grandfathers struggled with balancing the adjustments. Great-uncle Peter said it was a waste of time since they weren’t actually taking it racing. Kevin’s grandfather didn’t say a word, but looked as if he had been slapped. Great-uncle Peter sighed and said, “Okay, D.B., let’s make this thing perfect.” Before the day was done his grandfather was smiling, so it must have been. 
On Wednesday, when they were having lunch, the UPS driver dropped something off. Kevin’s grandfather rushed out, took out his pocket knife and cut the tape. It was the midget racer fuel tank he ordered, since the original one from the 1927 Miller was deteriorated beyond repair. “I hope this thing fits,” he said. “I had to pay a thousand bucks for it.”
Kevin wondered how much his grandparents would have in the Baby Grand by the time it was done, but he didn’t ask. After lunch, they set the fuel tank in place and carefully lowered the rear section of the body over it. Grandpa proclaimed it a good fit and pointed out, although it would never pass off as original, nobody would see it. He also said it was way overkill for a car destined mainly for viewing, but they did plan on running it so it needed a fuel tank. 
That evening, Grandma told them Bonnie’s painting was done and looked terrific, but they couldn’t see it until the unveiling. 
On Thursday, Kevin had to mow the lawns and missed out on installing fuel lines, radiator hoses, wires, gauges, and vital fluids like oil, gear grease, and coolant. His grandfather said they were one day ahead of schedule, but asked if he and Desiree could work tomorrow and do driving lessons on Saturday instead. He was getting excited. 
On Friday, they loosely fitted the body panels. 
Since the field had dried out, offering more traction, Kevin’s grandfather decided they’d learn about matching engine rpms with various gears in the transmission, especially during downshifts while entering corners. 
“How did you learn all this stuff, Grampa?” Kevin asked.
“Did you forget who my father was?”
“No, but I thought you said Great-grampa Paul was anti-racing.”
“Five years in prison did that to him. In fact, out of respect for him, I never drove a race car until after he died. He had lots of knowledge, though, and shared it with me.”
“Why would he do that if he turned anti-racing, Uncle Don?”
“You practice karate because you like the exercise and want to be able to defend yourselves, but you don’t intend to go around beating people up, right?”
“Yeah,” Desiree agreed. 
“My father thought he should share his driving knowledge with me so I could defend myself against bad drivers and the elements. He drove trucks from 1933 until 1973. That’s forty years of driving on the road, and he never had one accident. He drove in the rain and in the snow, in daylight and nighttime. His passion was driving race cars, but he applied his skills to his livelihood.”
“Wait a minute,” Kevin said. “You drove a race car?”
“Nothing like my father did. I was a hobby racer, and very part-time at that. I tried sports cars, but ended up doing mostly dirt track.”
“You mean stock cars?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah,” Grandpa said, “but real stock cars. Those things we watched last Saturday are not stock cars. They’re race cars and there isn’t a stock part on them. Real stock cars don’t have eight-hundred and fifty horsepower. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not putting them down. Far more people can drive the kind of stuff I drove than can handle a NASCAR racer. Anyway, I only drove a maximum of one night a week. I was too busy working to neglect Keely any more than that. She was a good sport about it, though, and Peter was my pit crew. Sometimes your dad helped out, too, Desiree.”
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Yeah, he was a very meticulous worker. I remember your third birthday party that year. We had fun, but I’ve seen people ruin their lives over obsessions with racing. My theory is: if you’re going to race, race on a limited basis as a hobby, or get into the big-time on paved tracks, like NASCAR, where there isn’t so much dirt. Women aren’t fond of dirt. I’ll tell you two a secret: the day my father died, he told me if he had the choice of driving the Indianapolis 500 on the condition he had to go to prison for five years afterwards, it’d be a tough choice. Now let’s get going or we’ll be out here all day.” 
That evening, they had dinner at the Johnson place. Desiree and her grandparents arrived at about five-thirty. Desiree walked in holding a birthday cake with fifteen lit candles on top, as everybody sang “Happy Birthday” to Kevin. He had forgotten it was July eleventh, his birthday. He guessed it wouldn’t have been as good of a surprise if the candles weren’t lit, but after he made his wish and blew them out, the cake was set aside until after supper. 
Desiree bought him the book Bob Bondurant on High Performance Driving. Her grandparents gave him twenty-five dollars, his gave him fifty. The other surprise was that another NASCAR race was on television. This one in Chicago. Once again he, Desiree, and the grandfathers watched it while the grandmothers cleaned up the kitchen and played cards. 
The next week, they permanently fastened the body—including wind deflector—and the radiator grill shell. Kevin’s grandfather called the upholstery shop and hounded them for the seat cushions they’d had for three weeks. They promised to have them done by Monday. Grandpa surmised that they just started working on them. He wanted everything done by the end of next week, and that meant getting it running and re-torquing the engine bolts and fixing any leaks that might occur. 
The sign painter would letter it during the last week of July, with its number: 56, Driver: Paul Johnson, Crew Chief: Alexander Tchaikovsky, and of course: Baby Grand. All lettering on the cream colored racer would be in black, except the sponsor’s logo with their name, Bonnie Miss Root Beer, which would be dark brown. Underneath in smaller lettering would be: a product of Cicero Bottling Works. 
On Monday, August third, Desiree and the grandmothers went shopping in Madison for clothes to wear on the big day. They returned with elegant dresses. The UPS driver brought Kevin’s outfit right to the door. His grandmother had measured him up, and his grandfather ordered a real race car driver’s suit for him to wear at the unveiling. Since he looked so much like his great-grandfather, he will sort of play the part. Grandpa said he’ll make the presentation, and Kevin will stand by and nod when introduced. Otherwise, he was to mill around and pretend to be charming, he guessed. 
The decorations were completed on Friday. The lighting, sound system, lectern, and podium were also delivered, set up, and tested. And of course the baby grand piano was brought in, too. A few tables and chairs were set up off to the side, otherwise the only others were tall, round tables of the height to use while standing, and were scattered around. The workbench had been cleaned and the top was covered with butcher paper, inviting people to use that as well. 
The closer they got to the deadline, the faster the clock seemed to go as the days melted away. An email from Lutheran Missions stated that his parents had been informed. By August eleventh they still hadn’t heard from Kevin’s parents, but his grandfather was so busy on the phone, and running around, that he didn’t have time to dwell on it. 
At nine-thirty the next day, the caterer was setting up. The guests were expected in two hours. Kevin thought everyone except Great-aunt Andrea was a bundle of nerves, him included. Although, Great-uncle Peter seemed pretty calm, too, and was a calming influence on the rest of them. The old Senior Chief must have lived through tougher spots than this during his twenty years in the Navy. He was the greeter, and had memorized the pictures he found online for every dignitary expected. 
Bonnie’s painting was sitting near the Baby Grand, but his grandmother forbade any of them from peeking under the cloth draped over it. The deputies arrived at ten-thirty. Kevin’s grandfather showed them around and gave them guest lists. 
It was a warm day and expected to get much warmer. Fortunately, Grandpa had thought of that, too. He rented huge fans, mounted them on a shroud he made from plywood, and put the unit under the partially opened front garage door. It was secured and the door locked in place so nobody could get in that way. The fans pushed air through the front door to the workshop and out the open rear access door attended by deputies staffing the check-in spot. Signs had been placed from the road, at regular intervals, to guide guests to the marked-off parking area near the rear of the building. 
They were all in their places at eleven for what Kevin’s grandfather claimed would be the biggest dog-and-pony show he’d ever had anything to do with, and he said he’d been involved in plenty during his forty years at Harley-Davidson. Kevin thought what made it the biggest was his desire to erase the convicted felon stigma from his late father. He’d told Kevin it was necessary because of Kevin’s father, but Kevin suspected it meant a lot to him, too. 
Kevin was asked not to hang around Desiree the whole time, but to visit with guests and do his best to answer questions. Grandpa reminded him that he was a celebrity of sorts since he had saved two lives at great risk to his own. Said he made the event possible because of his notoriety, clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, smiled, and joked, “But don’t let it go to your head, kid.”
Now that Kevin was fifteen, he felt more pressure to find his calling in life. He’d been throwing ideas at Desiree and gauging her reaction, encouraging her comments. So far he hadn’t gotten any good responses, nor had he had any strong feelings about anything she suggested. He anticipated people asking what he wanted to be when he grew up, and wished he could think of something intelligent to say. His grandfather must have sensed he was agonizing over something, and said, “A little trick I learned, Kev: when you’re in the spotlight, avoid booze, caffeine, and sugar.”
“So you’re saying no champagne, coffee, cola, or punch, heh, Grampa?” he joked. 
“That’s it, Kev. We have some nice little bottles of water on ice.” 
Desiree had her baby grand opened up and was playing gentle, flowing tunes even before the first guests arrived, which were the sheriff and his wife. Desiree looked fabulous in her black dress. It was sleeveless—came up to her throat in front, held up by her neck—and backless. Her hair was up and somehow tucked into a bun at the back of her head. But it wasn’t some two-second job. She must have had help because it was perfect, and she looked even more striking than the first time he saw her. 
Soon Darlington’s mayor and his wife arrived. Kevin’s nerves had calmed, even though there was a steady flow of well-dressed people entering. Uniformed waitresses offered a variety of beverages, including flutes of champagne. He walked over and told Desiree how beautiful she was, and took his station near the covered Baby Grand which wasn’t far from her baby grand. An equal distance away on the other side was Bonnie’s painting, also covered. 
There was a big sign to the side of the Baby Grand listing the car type, driver’s, crew chief’s, sponsor’s, and alleged owner’s names, along with the actual letter delivered to Paul after the 1927 Indy 500 from Big Al himself. Allegedly, of course. None of it could be proven but there were some nice pictures, one of Al Capone at the Baby Grand’s workshop. The signboard also listed the car’s vital statistics. The whole thing was covered with Plexiglas. Actually, Grandpa told him it was Lexan, whatever that was. 
The mayors of Rochester and Darlington glommed onto Kevin, verifying that he was really him, and asked questions about how he felt. Soon the governors of Minnesota and Wisconsin came over, and the mayors jockeyed for position on making introductions to him. Next came Senator Feingold, from Wisconsin, and the relatively new governor of Illinois. 
Kevin got the impression that Governor Quinn was clueless as to why he’d been invited, but was making the most out of hobnobbing anyway. He did a double take after looking at a picture on the Baby Grand’s signboard, and Kevin thought a light came on in his head when he glanced back at him. Kevin looked at the signboard again and saw one of the pictures in a different light. It was a picture he hadn’t noticed before. It must not have been in the albums. Paul was posing behind the wheel of the Baby Grand with Alexander Tchaikovsky standing on one side of him and Al Capone on the other, both behind the car. Governor Quinn approached and said, “You look exactly like him. Who are you again?”
“Kevin Johnson, Governor Quinn,” he said, offering a hand. “I’m Paul ‘Throttle’ Johnson’s great-grandson. Thank you for traveling all this way and taking the time to celebrate his life’s triumphs and tragedies with us today.” 
“Tragedies?”
“He was involved in a horrible accident while racing in the ‘Springfield Mile’ during the 1927 Illinois State Fair. His throttle stuck after a mishap, and he shot into the grandstands. A boy was killed, and my great-grandfather was arrested and charged with manslaughter. The car was so damaged that he couldn’t prove the throttle had jammed, and the victim was the son of a very important man who wanted vengeance. My great-grandfather was convicted and spent five years in an Illinois State prison. I’m afraid the blight on his name created a rift in the family that still exists to this day.” 
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the governor replied. 
Kevin could tell he was thinking, just when Andy Baldacci barged onto the scene and said, “Hey, Kev. Great party. Thanks for inviting me. When do we get to see the race car?”
Outrageous Andy had an outrageously endowed blond woman hanging on his arm, dressed in some kind of silvery dress that was low at the top, short at the bottom, and very form-fitting. 
“Hi, Andy. Thanks for coming. Governor Quinn, I’d like you to meet Andy Baldacci. Andy is a professional football player. Andy, Governor Quinn of Illinois. And, I’m sorry, but I haven’t met your friend, Andy?” 
“There he is!” a woman wearing a low-cut, blue-sequined dress screeched as she trotted their way on spiked heels. Andy smiled and reached for, Kevin guessed, a pen. 

Chapter Thirty-One
The woman stiff-armed the governor, dodged Andy, and went right for Kevin. Just before contact, he recognized her as the woman he helped out of the submerged car. She looked much better than the last time he saw her, happy and full of life, too. She wrapped one hand around his waist, the other to the back of his head, and pulled him close, forcing his head down, practically smothering him in her generous cleavage. 
“I’ve wanted to do this so much,” she said, then finally eased up on him so he could breathe. As she held him at arms length by the shoulders, she said, “Bob, this is the young man who saved my life.” A man almost as stout as Andy but not nearly as tall or in as good of shape stepped forward, and Kevin was passed off to him for a bear hug. When he finally let go, Kevin saw tears in his eyes.
“Thank you so much for saving my wife, Kevin. I don’t know what the kids and I would have done without her.”
Kevin heard tapping on a microphone, Desiree played something on the piano to call their attention, and he saw his grandfather up on the podium in his charcoal gray pinstriped suit. 
“Attention, ladies and gentlemen, most welcome and honored guests: thank you for joining us today. I’m Don Johnson, son of the late Paul ‘Throttle’ Johnson, grandson of the late Alexander Tchaikovsky. Both remarkable men that we’re celebrating today by unveiling an exact duplicate of the Baby Grand, the race car that was prepared by my grandfather Alex, who many referred to as the Motor Maestro, and driven by my father in the 1927 Indianapolis 500. And at the keys of this other baby grand,” he said, gesturing toward Desiree, “is the talented Miss Desiree Chantelle, who graciously offered to provide us with beautiful music.” 
Kevin’s grandfather led the applause, which everyone joined in on, and Desiree stood briefly and bowed. 
“And the young man in the racing suit, looking exactly like my father when he was young, my grandson, Kevin Johnson.”
The applause thundered, and Kevin hadn’t even done anything. 
“My son and his wife, Kevin’s parents, are on their way back from—” He stopped mid-sentence, looking over to the rear entrance. There Kevin’s parents were, more tan than he’d ever seen them. “They’re back,” his grandfather continued. “My daughter-in-law, Dr. Bridget Johnson, and my son, Dr. Paul Johnson II, just returned from a volunteer mission in Central America. Welcome back!” 
This time the applause began spontaneously. 
“Come on over here, kids,” Grandpa said to Kevin’s parents after the applause subsided. 
They moved closer, with apprehension Kevin thought. Then he remembered they didn’t even know what this whole thing was about. As they approached his grandfather, Kevin’s father looked dumbfounded, but Kevin’s mother found him in the crowd and gave him a smile. 
“Paul,” Grandpa said, “go help your son remove the cover from the Baby Grand.”
He still looked confused, but saw where Kevin was and approached. Kevin took one side, and his father, following his lead, took the other and they pulled it back. Grandpa said, “I present you with, the Baby Grand!”
There were oohs and ahs and then applause. After it died down, Grandpa said, “Before I forget, I want to thank all who worked on this project, as well as the painting  about to be revealed that commemorates my family’s involvement in the 1927 Indy 500. Please raise your hand when I say your name: Keely Johnson, my beautiful wife of fifty-eight years.”
Kevin’s grandmother raised a hand and smiled. After the applause dwindled, his grandfather continued: “My brother-in-law, Peter Collins and his beautiful wife, Andrea.”
They both raised a hand and there was more applause. Great-uncle Peter pumped his fist and got more, coupled with friendly laughter. 
“Once again, Desiree Chantelle,” Grandpa said. She stood, raised a hand and smiled. More applause. 
“And of course, the young man who drove the Baby Grand in here and parked her right where she sits, my grandson, Kevin Johnson.” 
Kevin raised his hand, again feeling conspicuous as the people clapped. 
“Last but not least, sharing her art debut with us today, please help me welcome the beautiful and talented, Bonnie McGee.”
Kevin looked over and saw Bonnie for the first time in a long while. Her smile was brilliant, truly happy, and her parents seemed pleased to be standing by her side. As soon as the applause died, his grandfather said, “Bonnie, would you give us the honor of unveiling your work, titled ‘Al’s Crew’ please?”
Bonnie’s father helped her. She looked apprehensive, but the crowd set her mind at ease with a thunderous ovation. 
“I just want to say a few short words,” Grandpa said. “My father, Paul Johnson, was involved in an accident later in the 1927 racing season and wrongfully charged and convicted of manslaughter, ending his racing career and putting him in prison for five years. Were it not for my wonderful mother, Alice, and her parents, Alexander and Maria Tchaikovsky, I doubt he would have survived. Certainly, my grandson, my son, and I wouldn’t be here today. To Paul ‘Throttle’ Johnson,” he said, raising his glass. 
Kevin looked around, and everyone had joined in. He had nothing in his hand but raised it as if he did, and they all said, “To Paul ‘Throttle’ Johnson.” 
“We have several dignitaries in the crowd today,” his grandfather went on, “and I’ll quickly read off their names. And, politicians: you’re welcome to say a few brief words. And if you’d like, I’ll make the introductions. Here we go, but please hold your applause until the end or we’ll be keeping you away from the food all day: 
“Senator Russ Feingold of Wisconsin, Governor Jim Doyle of Wisconsin, Governor Pat Quinn of Illinois, Governor Tim Pawlenty of Minnesota, Mayor David Breunig of Darlington, Wisconsin, Lafayette County Sheriff Scott Pedley, and Mayor Ardell Brede of Rochester, Minnesota. 
“We have so many more that I just can’t take the time to mention all your names, but you are all important to us. We have a news anchor from New York, professors from Madison, representatives from museums as far away as Washington D.C., Los Angles, Indianapolis, and Chicago. We have an NFL football player, and I also believe some art collectors, so don’t miss out on the bidding war for Bonnie’s painting. If anyone else would like to say something, now is the time,” he offered. 
Kevin thought, with all of the hams in attendance, somebody would have taken him up on it. But nobody stepped forward, so he said, “All right: get plenty to eat, look at the exhibits, and ask all the questions you’d like to any of us. And once again, thank you for being here with us today.” 
Desiree resumed playing. Kevin’s parents, overwhelmed with well-wishers, struggled to bust through the people asking him questions. 
Mom sidled up, smiled, and hugged him. “You look so cute in your racing suit, Kev.”
Dad just stood there with a dubious expression on his face.
Kevin smiled. “Welcome back. How is … everything?” 
“Good,” she replied in a tone that didn’t totally convince Kevin that things really were. Dad stepped off, circling the Baby Grand. Kevin thought he was happy to see him, but he still had mixed feelings about his father. Perhaps he sensed it. “Where did your grandfather ever find the car?” she asked.
“You should have seen it before,” he shared. “I thought it was hopeless.” 
“It’s beautiful. And you actually drove it?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he replied. “We all worked long and hard on it.”
“We?” Mom said, surprised. “You actually worked on it, too?”
“Yeah, well, Grampa was the brains behind the whole thing. I did mostly grunt work. But everyone helped one way or the other.” 
“Everyone?” she asked.
“There was way more to putting this on,” he said, arms out, gesturing around, “than restoring the car. Without Gramma, Great-uncle Peter, Great-aunt Andrea, and of course Desiree, we never could have pulled it off. Desiree helped with the car, too, as did Great-uncle Peter on the final assembly.”
“Desiree the pianist?” Mom said.
“She’s way more than that,” he corrected. 
Mom’s eyebrows went up as she looked over at her. “So I see. And I had no idea Bonnie was so talented. I can’t say I’m surprised to see her here, though.” His mother reestablished eye contact with him and smiled wryly. “Looks like you two managed to overcome your obstacles.” 
“Huh? Oh, no,” he said, remembering she hadn’t a clue. He would fill them in on Bonnie, and ultimately Desiree, later. “Her involvement is strictly business. We hired her, commissioned her to do the painting. Gave her a retainer in case it doesn’t sell. It will, though.”
“I’m sure,” Mom agreed. “How long have your grandparents been planning this?”
“All they planned for was the car. It was supposed to be a busy-work project, but as things fell into place it turned into a quest.”
“Quest?”
“We’re shooting for a posthumous pardon for Dad’s grandfather. At first we thought re-creating the car might open the door to tell the story of Alex and Paul, how they were good men just trying their best to succeed. But as things progressed, so did our goals. Hopefully, it’ll pay off.” 
She hugged him again, but then stepped aside because people were clamoring to know about the Baby Grand’s restoral job, general questions about its performance capabilities, and if there was a story behind the sponsor. Most seemed shocked to learn that, during the 1927 Indy 500, his great-grandfather hit speeds of over one-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour, and didn’t even have seat belts. Another fact they found amazing was that Bonnie Miss Root Beer had been legitimate and was just one of the soft drink brands owned and produced by Cicero Bottling Works, which was part of the Capone organization. 
A suave man with short dark hair introduced himself to Kevin. His name was Barry Chantelle, Desiree’s father. Barry then introduced him to his friend Simon, a buff-looking blond guy that seemed a bit younger. They were both polite, but Barry asked for a private talk, so they stepped over near the partition that was erected to block the view of the storage area. Barry said he heard that Kevin and Desiree were an item, and wanted to know his intentions. Kevin told him, and went back to his station. 
Before he knew it, Mandy Chantelle was embracing him. Like the woman whose life he’d saved, she was wearing a low-cut dress. He surmised that both must have had some sort of push-up bras holding their breasts from underneath, because the tops were proudly exposed and much bigger than he remembered. Mandy’s skin no longer looked too big for her, and she had nice color, too. Her now stylish auburn-dyed hair was healthy looking. The entire woman was healthy looking. Perhaps a bit robust, but not fat, more like … vibrant. Like the woman he saved, she was taller than he remembered, plus wearing high heals, which allowed her to stuff his face into her cleavage quite easily. She smothered him, told him what a dear sweet boy he was before finally letting go. 
After about an hour, Kevin heard tapping on the microphone again. Desiree stopped playing, and everyone looked around to see what was happening. His grandfather was back on the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “Governor Quinn of Illinois would like to make an announcement.” 
He stepped down, and up stepped the governor. 
“Thank you, Don, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the great state of Illinois, it gives me tremendous pleasure to announce that I’ve started proceedings to posthumously pardon Paul Johnson. I realize that’s of little consolation after all these years, but I’m hoping it will provide comfort to his wonderful family.” 
There was massive applause. The governor held up his hands, obviously telling them he had more to say. 
“There’s one more interesting thing, ladies and gentlemen. There’s been some bidding going on here today, and I’m proud to tell you that it looks as if the Baby Grand may have a permanent home at our museum in Chicago.” More applause, and then he closed with, “I’m so glad I was able to be here with you today. May God bless you all.” He stepped off, shook hands with Kevin’s smiling grandfather, and worked his way through the crowd, visiting with other well-wishers on his way out. 
The crowd thinned a bit after that, and Kevin finally had a chance to look at the painting. It was a beautiful, wonderful depiction of the event as described to him, and how he imagined it, with a twist. A waitress came by, and he grabbed a bottle of water from her tray and sipped from it, pondering Bonnie’s work. He was Paul behind the wheel, with sweat on his brow and grime on his cheeks, looking back at the mechanic who was stooping by where the rear wheel should have been. That mechanic was his father. Alexander Tchaikovsky was handing him an axle, while Kevin’s grandfather filled the gas tank. There were several people in the background, but the only other recognizable face was that of Big Al looking on with concern. 
“You like, Kev?”
He looked over. It was Bonnie. “It’s fantastic, Bonnie. Absolutely beautiful. I knew you could do it.” 
“Thank you for having faith in me, Kevin,” she said. Stepping forward with her hand held out, she added, “Here.” 
It was the five-hundred dollar gift card they used as security when commissioning her to do this. 
“I didn’t spend any of it,” she said, “and since we’ve gotten so many bids on the painting, you can have it back. None of this would’ve been possible without you and your grandparents, so my dad says it’s only fair to send you a check for fifteen percent of the sale amount when it’s final.” 
“That’s very gracious of you, Bonnie. Say, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He could tell she wasn’t so sure about whether to do it, but she finally relented and he led her over to the baby grand piano. “Desiree, I’d like you to meet Bonnie McGee. Bonnie, this is my fiancée, Desiree Chantelle.” 
Desiree tapered off on her playing, stood, reached out her hand to Bonnie, who took it in hers, and they cordially shook hands. They each said they were pleased to meet the other, but Kevin didn’t think either was too crazy about it. Still, he thought it was something he needed to do. Desiree resumed her playing, and he walked Bonnie back toward her painting and continued gazing at it.
“Fiancée?” Bonnie said. “You’re engaged? What did your parents say about that?” 
He glanced at his watch and replied, “We won’t know for three or four hours when we have our family reunion dinner and I tell them.” 
“I’m the first one you told this to?”
“No, our grandparents know. And I told Desiree’s father when he asked what my intentions are, just a short time ago.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much. He was probably in shock.”
“You’re such a weirdo, Kevin,” she said, shaking her head. “An interesting weirdo, though. I guess I’ll always love that about you.”
He smiled, looked at her painting and said, “Thanks. I better get my fill of this thing while I can.”
“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing it again,” she said.
“How’s that?” he asked. 
“The last I heard, your dad was high-bidder. Twenty-six thousand bucks.”
He looked at her, and she nodded, smiling. 
“I better get back to see what my mom’s doing, Kevin.”
“Okay, Bonnie. And thanks.”
“For?”
“For doing this. For not hating me. Everything.” 
She moved closer, put her hands on his upper arms, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Then she stepped back, turned, and walked away. But she paused, glancing back, and gave him a little smile and a wave, using just her fingers. Then she was gone. 
He went back to Desiree. She was still busy at the piano but motioned with her eyes for him to sit beside her. Quietly, without breaking stride in her playing, she said, “You have lipstick on your cheek, Kev.”
“I’m sorry, Desiree, I didn’t mean for—”
“Relax, Kev. I saw the whole thing and I’m not worried.”
“Thanks,” he said, feeling relieved. 
“I would still like you to clean it off, though. Use a tissue from my purse.” 
Desiree’s small clutch purse was between them. Besides Sundays at church, she never used it, favoring her little fanny pack purse. He unzipped it, grabbed a tissue from the tiny packet inside, zipped it back up, and wiped the cheek that Bonnie kissed. He looked at the tissue, folded it over, and wiped again. “How’s that?” 
She surveyed his face, motioning with hers for him to turn so she could see, all while playing the piano, and then quickly kissed him on the lips and said, “Good enough for now.”
“You’ve sure been doing a great job, Desiree. It’s like you’ve been performing for years.”
“Thanks, but I have.”
“I mean professionally.”
“Yeah, I forgot. My first paid gig,” she smiled. 
“Your mom said ‘hi’ to me. She looks really nice.”
“Yes, she does. Thank you. I saw you with her. I told her about some of the things you’ve said, and how you are. That’s probably why she introduced you to her girls,” she laughed.
“Girls?”
“Her boobs.”
“I met your dad and his friend, too.”
“Speaking of boobs, were they behaving themselves? I told him no kissy kissy, and no touchy feely,” she huffed, nostrils flaring a bit, but still playing flawlessly. 
“Yeah, they were okay. Your dad took me aside and asked what my intentions are.”
“And?”
“And I told him.”
“And?”
“He started crying and left.”
Desiree gave off a little laugh and said, “He’s such a girl.”
“Yeah, but I think he really cares about you.”
She looked at him, making obvious that having her father care for her meant something. “How can you tell, Kev?”
“It wasn’t easy for him to confront me. I sensed his concern. I could see it.”
She leaned toward his ear and quietly said, “You’re so sweet, Kev. I can see why both that woman you saved and my mom needed to hold you against their bare bosoms. Yeah, I saw her, too. If I was wearing the right outfit, and had big enough boobs, I’d give you the same treatment.” 
“Somehow,” he said, “I think you’d have a different effect on me, Desiree.”
“Because my boobs aren’t as big?” 
“Your body is perfect, and the only one I desire.” 
She struggled to stifle a smile and broke eye contact, looking down at the piano keys. He detected a little redness in her face, but then she abruptly looked at him. “Speaking of desire,” she said nodding and pointing with her head, “who’s that guy my mom is talking to?” 
The piano played as if on automatic pilot. So many things going on at once in her mind and yet she managed to stay in control. Always, it seemed. Was this the mysterious multitasking he hadn’t a clue about? He was still trying to find his one thing and knew if he ever did, he couldn’t do “it” and anything else simultaneously. What did she see in him? He looked over at her mother. She was looking sort of hot, actually, like a mature woman who found the fountain of youth and bought a shiny new gold-colored dress to show off with. She made all the right moves with her hands, her face, her smile, and her hair. “He’s the senior administrator for the physicians at the Mayo Clinic.” 
“He and my mom are looking pretty interested in each other. Have you ever seen adults flirting more shamelessly, Kev?”
“Yeah, my parents,” he replied, thinking about some of the situations he’d walked in on. Desiree gave him a look with raised eyebrows that hinted he would fill in the details on that later. “But your mom and Ken sure seem to be … enjoying each other’s company.” 
Desiree snorted a little laugh and said, “Any more ‘enjoying’ and they’ll be sneaking off somewhere. Is he married?”
“No, I think his wife got cancer or something and died.”
“At the Mayo Clinic?”
“I don’t know. He was by himself when I met him.”
“How long ago?”
“Um … I think two … maybe three years ago.”
“You might have to give him the Donny Boy Talk, Kev. Just look at them. Hey, I forgot to tell you what my grandfather found out.”
“About?” he asked. 
“About that little race car in the back of the bus,” she said. 
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“That’s because they thought I should tell you.”
“They?” he asked. “Who? Why?”
“Just because. Okay?”
“Okay,” he submitted. 
“Guess what it is,” she said slyly. 
“I don’t know. What?” 
“It’s a Baby Grand,” she proclaimed. 
“A what?”
“A Baby Grand,” she reiterated. “Isn’t that amazing? I think it’s a sign, Kev.” 
“A Baby Grand?”
“Yeah,” she said, “a Baby Grand stock car or race car or something. They just call them Baby Grands. They’re powered by some kind of big motorcycle engines, plus they’re light and built like real race cars. They’re like two-thirds the size of NASCAR racers. I dreamt you were driving it, remember? It even has the same number as your great-grandfather’s car. I think it’s your calling, Kev. You could be a race car driver. You’re already so good at it. That’s why I got you that book for your birthday. You can’t tell me it’s not what you really want.” 
In his mind he pictured that little car again, and it did resemble a miniature NASCAR racer. “It’s a long shot, Desiree, and it’s also far from racing as a profession,” he said, trying to sound practical. 
“Being a concert pianist is a long-shot, too, but you have faith in me. I believe in you, and so do the grandparents. They think the little Baby Grand would be a great way for you to start.” 
“My folks would have a fit.”
“They will after they find out we’re engaged, anyway. Your grandfather said if they freak out too much he won’t sign you back over to them until they calm down.”
When Kevin’s parents prepared to leave the country for two months, they had a lawyer draw-up paperwork making him a dependant of his grandparents in case something happened. His grandparents would have to sign a form to transfer custody of him back to his parents. 
“The little Baby Grand race car doesn’t belong to us,” he pointed out. 
“It could,” she countered. “You could bid on it. You’ve got the money. And if the family who owns it doesn’t claim it soon, it’ll become property of Tchaikovsky Towing & Salvage. I bet your grandfather would give you a great deal on it,” she added with raised eyebrows and a smile. 
If Desiree ever decided to forgo her music career, he could see her making a fortune in sales. He let her concentrate on playing the piano while he thought about what she said. 
“It’d be a shame to waste that cute driving suit, Kev.”
Somehow her multitasking mind never stopped. “Let’s say I did buy it,” he said, hoping she’d have the answer. “How will I race it? Who’ll help me?”
“I can think of two grandfathers that are still capable, but not getting any younger. And you know I’ll always be there for you.”
“You really think?” he asked. 
“Yeah,” she said, “I really think. Know what else I really think?”
“What?”
She leaned closer and quietly said, “I think we’re wrapping this whole thing up pretty soon, and if we play our cards right we could have maybe an hour and a half or two of private time before the really big event. Kevin: will you take me skinny-dipping?”
“Skinny-dipping?”
“You know,” she explained, “we get naked and take a dip. Skinny-dipping. This dress has a built-in bra, being backless and all, and is totally opaque, doesn’t even need a slip. So, just for the fun of it, I decided to forgo the panties as well,” she whispered into his ear with hot breath. “It’s only fair that yours are coming off, too.” 
Kevin never could deny Desiree anything, her demands always reasonable. 
The End of this Episode 
But Desiree's fresh-out-of-alcohol-rehab mother Mandy still needs a job. She has a lead on one, too. It's in Kevin's home town where the man she met at the Baby Grand unveiling lives and has connections in the school system. Her main focus should be taking care of her daughter, but Ken is on her mind. 
Kevin buys the little Baby Grand race car, and Desiree and both sets of grandparents conspire to help him launch his racing career. But his biggest concern is whether he's up for it. Doing impressive things on a grassy field with a battered BMW 3 Series is one thing, competing on a racetrack is another. Hopefully he inherited more than his facial features from Great-grandfather Paul "Throttle" Johnson. 
Introduction to:
Baby Grand II: The Conspiracy 
August, 2009
“C’mon, Kevin, hurry up and get those shorts off.” 
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Desiree.” 
“What do you mean?” she challenged. “You said you wanted to.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. She had been walking away from him toward the swimming hole but stopped in her tracks and was staring at him, pivoting at her upper torso. He caught a superb view of her derriere and one breast. Desiree didn’t need a bra for support. He was pretty sure it worked the other way around on her. Perhaps that she wasn’t quite fifteen had something to do with it, but he tended to think not. She was very mature for her age. Her breasts weren’t big; they were merely perfect, and he marveled at the large dark areola surrounding an erect nipple. And you couldn’t call Desiree’s backside a butt. She had nicely rounded firm buttocks, each its own entity in charge of the exquisite leg below. 
“When you agreed to take me skinny-dipping, that means you’re supposed to take off your clothes with me. Come on, Kevin.”
“Why can’t we just keep our underwear on, like we usually do?”
“Because I don’t have any underwear. I told you that back at the party, remember?”
He glanced at her black dress draped over a post, and sure enough did remember her whispering that into his ear with hot breath when he was sitting beside her on the bench as she played the baby grand piano for the unveiling of the antique race car named the Baby Grand. Actually, it was a replica of the original Baby Grand: a 1927 Miller that his great-grandfather drove in the Indianapolis 500 that year. It was prepared by Motor Maestro Alexander Tchaikovsky, Kevin’s great-great-grandfather, and owned on the hush by Al Capone. Nobody knew why, but he was the one that first called it the Baby Grand. The driver, Paul Johnson—who Kevin’s father Dr. Paul Johnson II was named after—wrecked at the Illinois State Fair later in the season and was blamed for a death in the grandstands. He went to prison for five years because of it and never raced again. Kevin played his part at the unveiling because everyone said he looked exactly like him, even though he just turned fifteen. 
Kevin had his racing suit off but was reluctant to shed the boxers. Desiree turned and faced him head-on with her hands on those lovely hips, and he got a full-on view of her which made his condition even worse. Only he wasn’t facing her head-on, he was cowering with his back and side toward her, looking at her over his shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his privates. His eyes were locked onto hers, but still he couldn’t miss her small thatch of black pubic hair that he told himself was really a skimpy bikini bottom. 
Her long dark hair was up in an expertly made bun, done especially for the unveiling. She normally wore her hair down, but before going in the water she usually twirled it around itself somehow and inserted a couple of hairpins to hold it up. It looked slightly unkempt and very sexy that way. She did that so she wouldn’t get her hair wet and leave the telltale sign they’d been at the old skinny-dipping hole between her grandparents’ property and his. He and Desiree firmly believed in the don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Don’t ask for permission to do private things, and don’t tell what you’ve been up to. The path through the woods between her grandparents’ place and his was no secret, nor was the swimming hole. He didn’t think they were naïve, but no good could come from telling anybody any of it. 
Desiree’s beautiful dark eyebrows narrowed. He hated when they did that. 
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the only one standing here without clothes on, Kevin.”
Oh, he noticed all right, which made him even more self-conscious and reluctant to live up to his part of the bargain. 
“After getting me naked, you really think you can chicken out?” 
“You know I’m … shy.” He almost added that he hadn’t actually gotten her naked, but learned it was best not to argue with her when she was upset … or any other time, for that matter. 
“Kevin, turn towards me. Now.” 
Desiree didn’t try to dominate him or order him around, but he knew she was right and turned quickly, hoping that from straight on she wouldn’t notice his condition. 
“Remove those shorts, Kevin.” 
“But I’ll be … embarrassed. I’ve—”
“Got an erection,” she said. “I know. I’d be embarrassed if you didn’t. It’d make me feel … inadequate.” 
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