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I sat back, sipped coffee, and listened to Dad tell his fiancée everything. I don't believe he left out even the smallest detail. I'd believed he was a taciturn man. What a joke! He also surprised me on another level. He was very well-spoken.
And Maureen, what a woman! That she would become my fourth mother pleased me no end. She was tough and strong, like a lioness protecting her cubs, and Dad and I were her cubs. She was cheerful with a good sense of humor with a laugh that was contagious and a smile that could be demure or light up a room. Her ire was something to behold; it danced in her dark eyes like fireflies at night, and at the moment her ire was directed at the meth gang who had shot up our trailer and vehicles last night. Then her dancing eyes turned on me when Dad told her that I planned to take the battle to them one at a time.
"You'll do no such thing, Eric," Maureen hissed. "I forbid it."
I grinned at Dad. "She's a beauty when she's pissed, huh?"
"Yep," he drawled. "Sometimes I make her angry just to see the fire in her pretty eyes."
Maureen stamped her feet and said, "I'm serious, Johannes. Those men are dangerous. They're willing to kill, and they have automatic weapons, and..."
"Eric is bait, Maureen," Dad said. "The police look at him and see a drug addict, a throwaway. They've staked him to the ground like a lamb hoping the rogue coyotes cooking and dealing meth will come after him. After the gang makes their kill, the police will make a case against them for murder and roll up the drug operation at the same time. The media will make them heroes. That my son will be dead won't even be a footnote in the story."
I looked at my father with new eyes. He was not only well-spoken but also a complex and deep thinker. I had not envisioned the scenario he'd just described, but I knew instantly that his assessment of the situation was accurate. Why was this intelligent, complex man living in a house trailer doing yard work for a living?
"Eric's court date is tomorrow morning," Dad continued, "which means the gang will come at us again today or tonight." He looked at me. "Let's cut your tether to the stake and get out of Dodge for the night, Eric. Tomorrow in court, stand up and name the sociopaths that want you dead. Include their names in the public record of your trial. Tell the judge that you are not a throwaway and neither am I, and now that Maureen has returned, that she isn't a throwaway either. Come with me, both of you," he said and stood up.
Maureen and I followed him to his bedroom. He pulled his new suit from the closet and held it up. "Notice the bullet holes in my new suit. I will wear this bullet-ridden suit tomorrow at your trial. Point to the bullet holes, Eric. Tell the judge that unless something is done about the men you have named, that the next time they come after you that I might be wearing the suit. Then I will stand up and have my say. Perhaps, this approach will make your plan to take the battle to the sociopaths one at a time unnecessary."
I nodded.
Maureen was more demonstrative about her acceptance of his plan. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him passionately, which was awkward because he still held his suit in his hand. When she leaned back from the kiss, she looked at me and said, "Your plan sucked, Eric. Your father's plan is brilliant!"
"It is," I said, "especially if we make certain the press learns about the proceedings, which will otherwise be closed to the media because of my age."
"That is an excellent addition to my plan, Son," Dad said. "Do you have something in mind to make it happen?"
"I do. Let's hire a public relations expert to attend the trial with us, an individual not known to the court as a member of the media. This expert's task will be the dissemination of our plea to the court to put an end to the sociopaths' intent on exacting retribution because I ratted them out."
Maureen laughed. "As usual, Eric, you go too far. That is a horrible addition to your father's marvelous plan. That will make you a public figure in the community, a laughable public figure unfortunately. After all, you will be standing in front of a judge admitting to dealing drugs."
I groaned audibly. "She's right, Dad."
"And getting out of Dodge tonight, Johannes, is best part of your plan," Maureen said. "Where are we going?"
"I had not developed my battle plan to that level of detail, my beauty," Dad said as he hung his suit back in the closet. "Generals leave the details of a battle plan to colonels and majors, I believe."
"Dodge is your trailer, Johannes. You could get out of Dodge by staying with me in my trailer tonight," Maureen said.
"No, the sociopaths are not yet aware of you, Maureen," I said. "Let's keep it that way if we can. We have money, Dad. The attorney cost half what I figured. Let's get out of Dodge to one of Santa Fe's fine resort hotels. We'll eat fine foods and drink fine wines, except for me, off course, and bask in luxury while we're hiding in plain sight."
"Ooh, Johannes, I like Eric's plan this time," Maureen said.
Dad grinned, rubbed his hands together and said, "I love it when a good plan comes together."
"I'll go pack," Maureen said.
"And I'll call a tow truck to haul my pickup to a radiator shop," Dad said. "Then I'll call my home-owners insurance company to see if my policy covers repairing bullet holes."
"Call your auto insurance company for the same reason, Dad," I said. "I'll call and make reservations for rooms at a resort hotel. Any preferences?"
"I've heard good things about La Posada de Santa Fe Resort and Spa," Maureen said.
"Ah, Dad, I'll need your debit card. Mine hasn't come in the mail yet," I said.
He handed me the card and said, "Don't forget your drug test at ten o'clock."
"I won't," I said.
Dad wore a sport coat that wasn't bullet-ridden. I wore my new suit. Maureen wore a little black dress that showed off her outstanding figure. We looked good, and we felt good, and we had a good time laughing and talking and, on my part, getting to know my father and future mother a lot better than I knew them before.
We were dining at Fuego, La Posada de Santa Fe's award-winning restaurant. I'd suggested the Chef's Grand Tasting Menu, but Dad stuck his nose in the air and said nobody could force him to eat foie gras stuffed peppered pigfeet, or rabbit with maniquette, whatever maniquette was. He had a point and the three of us went with the regular menu. We all ordered Kobe-style New York strips and truffles as our entrees but chose different appetizers. Dad ordered the wines. I stayed with iced tea. The food was delicious, the service impeccable, and my dinner companions were lively, happy, and interesting.
I learned that Maureen was divorced and worked for an accountant as a bookkeeper. Financially crippled, she'd moved into the trailer court shortly after her divorce. Her husband had been a CPA and made good money, but his gambling addiction kept them broke and deeply in dept. She divorced him when he was arrested for fraud. He'd gambled away some of his client's money. He was currently in prison and would sit for his first parole hearing next month.
"Money isn't what life is about, Eric," she said. "Remember that. Oh, I'll admit that it's better to be rich than poor, but strength of character and love put money a poor third in the total scheme of things." She took my father's hand and placed his palm on her cheek. "Your father isn't a wealthy man, but he is a good man, and he loves me, and I love him. We are rich in the important things in life."
"Have you set a wedding date?" I asked.
Dad flinched, I noticed.
"We'd planned a June wedding, Eric," Maureen said, "but then you got in trouble, so we cancelled our plans. Our wedding plans are currently in limbo."
"Damn! I'm really sorry that my weak character scuttled your wedding," I said. I looked at my father. "From what my attorney said, I will be given probation tomorrow for my crimes, and as long as the drug tests say I'm clean, my troubles will be resolved. Perhaps the two of you can slide your wedding plans out of limbo later tonight."
"Perhaps," he said.
"No, Eric, we won't," Maureen said. "We won't set a new date until your situation is completely resolved at your trial."
"The sociopaths who want to do you harm have complicated the issue, Eric," Dad said.
I groaned. "You would have been better off if I'd kept my mouth shut about my partners in crime."
"Not at all, Eric," Maureen said. "What you did showed strength of character. What you did made your father proud of you again, and that is more important than our wedding date by a wide margin."
Tears stung my eyes. "Maureen, I am very happy that sometime soon you will be my mother."
"Oh, Eric! Hearing you say that makes me so happy! You can't imagine!" she exclaimed and gave me an awkward hug. Then she made it even more awkward when she pulled Dad into a three-way hug while we were all sitting in our chairs. "We're going to be a family, Johannes, not just husband and wife."
"We are," Dad said, beaming. "We surely are."
That evening while I played hold 'em with my laptop hooked into the hotel's high-speed internet connection, I reflected on my new life. I was a drug addict, but I'd beat my addiction, and tomorrow the judge would put me on probation and set me free. My new father was an exceptional man, well-spoken, deep thinking, and in a job for which he was overqualified from every indication that I'd observed. I could fix that. My soon-to-be new mother—step-mother would be more accurate—was a delightful, pretty woman, very loving and very strong who appeared to have her priorities straight. And my father and future mother loved each other. I suspected that they were showing each other how deeply they were in love on a king-sized bed in the Fireplace Room that I'd reserved for them. I'd chosen what La Posada called an Artist's Studio for me. I didn't know what I could do for my future mother other than what I'd said at dinner that had made her so happy, but whatever I could do for her, I would.
Huge amounts of money weren't needed, not like with the Oakmans, and I was only sixteen years old, so finding the love of my life for this life could and probably should be deferred for a few years.
I rolled my eyes to the heavens. "Waddaya say, Hector? Why did you choose Eric Kleiner's body for me to occupy? At first blush, the problems don't seem very serious. Will my stay in Eric Kleiner's body represent a short visit, or is there something I don't know about yet that you want me to fix?"
As usual, Hector ignored me.
I won the tournament, shut down my computer, and went to sleep.
Johannes Kleiner held his woman in his arms. They were sated, and the cool air in the room was drying the sheen of perspiration on their naked bodies.
"I'm glad you returned early, Maureen," he said as he gazed at the hypnotic fire that he could see from the bed.
"I couldn't stay away like you asked, Johannes. I had to be here for you and for Eric at his trial."
"He's changed, Maureen," Johannes said.
"That's for sure."
"It's like a different person occupies his body, like an alien being rode that lightning bolt down out of the sky and assumed my son's ego or soul or whatever it is that makes a person an individual."
"Does that upset you?"
"It frightened me at first. The differences between the new Eric and the old are so stark, so broad that it was as if I no longer knew my son." He snorted derisively. "Then again, I don't think I really knew my son before, not deep down where it counts. If I had, I might have been able to stop him from experimenting with and finally becoming addicted to drugs. Each difference was like a blow at first. I felt like I was in a boxing match with my hands tied behind my back. What happened to my son, what is still happening to my son, is impossible, Maureen. The events, the changes defy the laws of nature. He jokingly explains the impossibility of the strange conversions he underwent following the lightning strike by pointing to an insignificant force in the universe he calls Hector as the source of the changes in him, but..."
He sighed. "I'm ashamed to say that I like the new Eric better than the old Eric. No matter what, I always loved my son, but there were times before he was struck by lightning that I didn't like him, and sometimes I even hated him for what he was doing to me—to us. That's sounds selfish, I know, but emotions can't always be controlled. Now I love him, like him, and I'm even proud of him. We can get married now, Maureen. I didn't tell you, but I was considering breaking our engagement because I didn't want to subject you to the pain of living with an addict. I know what living with addiction can be like, and because I loved you so much, I'd decided that I just couldn't put you through the pain."
"Loosing you would have been much more painful, Johannes," she said. "Remember, I lived with an addict, too. Gambling can be just as addictive as drugs or alcohol. I would not have allowed you to break off our engagement."
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