[:::: Lucky, Chapter 10, Part III ::::]

[:::: Authors Note ::::]

With world events occurring at a lightning pace over the past couple of weeks, it has been good to disconnect from social media, the news, and other information sources and get my head back into some writing.

With the completion of ‘The Nuclear Family’ Part I last week, I am taking a couple of weeks to make sure that I can stay ahead in the expanded version, so I can continuously release Part II.

However, that doesn’t mean no new content from me.  I’m beginning the release of the final part of ‘Lucky’, and I am also releasing a new draft story for the Full Monty crew called ‘Arranged’.

I hope that you enjoy this next part of the Lucky Series.

[:::: Go Back to Lucky, Chapter 9 ::::]

[:::: Lucky, Chapter 10, Part III ::::]

What a week.

Anton had me leading three different assessments. He was hoping that I could get everything in place by the time my sister-in-law, Faith, was ready to deliver her twins. At eighty-two, he was starting to slow down physically, but mentally, Aston Brown was as sharp as a guy in his thirties. He was looking forward to two more great-grandchildren, which, including my son and daughter with his granddaughter Grace, would take the number to fourteen. It's not a bad legacy.

Since joining his firm a little over four years ago, I have been involved in almost a dozen acquisitions. Anton often bypassed the frying pan and threw me directly into the fire. With my accounting background, I have managed several acquisitions and a couple of sales, none for less than five hundred million US dollars.

The main deal I was looking at, finishing the paperwork on this afternoon, looked good on paper. It had a solid revenue of almost eight hundred million and a decent profit margin for a manufacturing firm with three locations in different regions of the world and a large asset base. Looking over the numbers, Everything should have been in order. They were asking for one point two billion. Aston and his consortium certainly had that available, and it would be a multi-year earn-out to help protect the investment. 

Anton told me it was a done deal, but he wanted me to look over the figures as his Spidey senses were tingling.

While reading a report by the company's CFO, I felt something was off about the deal. For the next two days, I pored over the reports. Everything was perfect, every eye dotted, every T crossed, precisely what you expect in a billion-dollar business deal that had been worked on for the last two years. But that was the problem. Everything was pristine as I went through the previous few years of financials, board reports, and manufacturing output. 

After reading everything, there were no mistakes.  Sure, in the final contracts everyone signs, both parties spend months getting the language right.  However, in the lead-up to that, there were drafts, figures, values, and outputs that were all tweaked.  Moreover, over the past few years, the company has had almost no wastage or human errors that needed to be corrected.  Yes, an audit from the government would pass with flying colours, but for me, the perfection smelled like there was a layer of perfume covering the smell of shit.

Anton was concerned when, after only a few days, I asked to sit down with him and the acquisition team. When I pointed out my concerns, his brow furrowed. Five weeks later, he brought me into his office.

“Bruce, Bruce, you have done it again.  You saved me millions and picked up something no one else did!”

I shrugged, “Sometimes it is just easier to see the forest through the trees when you have fresh eyes.”

The company had been hiding payments to directors and underpaying suppliers for several years. It was not large amounts of money, but enough that they could hide it in the margins of successful revenue. However, sooner or later, it would come crashing down. The owners intended to take the initial cash buyout and walk away, knowing they would never make their earnout and leave Aston with a failing company.

The merger did not proceed, and the company's owners were also facing legal trouble in several countries.

Somehow, Grace’s nickname, ‘Lucky,’ followed me, and it wasn’t long before my nickname at the office became ‘Lucky.’ 

Speaking of Grace, she was amazing. 

In my first marriage, I thought I knew love. I gave everything I had, yet my ex-wife, Daphne, took everything and tossed me aside.  She even did it so well that my daughters with her, Laney and Torri, were no longer legally my daughters. 

They abandoned me for the good life, their mother having an affair with my cousin Brandon, who lured them away with promises of gifts, holidays, clothes and other things. 

But it was all a sham. Brandon and my former manager, Greg, were now serving time for fraud and several other charges. They were running a scheme to take staff bonuses and funnel them into their own bank accounts.

Now, Daphne and her daughters were living in a run-down two-bedroom townhouse on the outskirts of one of the less affluent suburbs in my hometown of Brisbane. Daphne had a shopkeeper's job in a clothing store in the nearby mall, and my former daughters had recently finished TAFE degrees, similar to community college, and were entering the workforce.  At least, that was the information I was given around six months ago, the last time I checked on them.

Just because I didn’t want anything to do with them didn’t mean I didn’t occasionally check in on them to make sure they were okay. After Christmas this year, I would get my regular PI to check on them. I expected the girls to be ‘leaving the nest’ soon, leaving Daphne on her own.

We had seen each other only twice in the years since they told me I was irrelevant to their lives in a café when I was just about at my lowest, and both times made no impact on our relationship, as there was no interaction. Over the past few years, I had contemplated reaching out to them as they grew up.  But then, they had never tried reaching out to me since then, so I would let sleeping dogs lie.

“Bruce,” My assistant Bonny said, coming into the office. “I’ve sent the draft contracts for the sale of Fortune Metals to legal for their review, and you have three reports ready for review in SharePoint.”

While I had helped on the no, to one sale, life in Anton’s circle always had the next opportunity waiting for attention.  Fortune Metals looked like an interesting acquisition.

“Thanks, Bonny,” I replied. I looked at the clock and saw it had just turned four in the afternoon. I knew I had another meeting, some account from one of our subsidiary businesses, and then I could head home. Grace and I planned to order in tonight. Faith was staying with us at the moment, in an apartment down the hall. My sister—in—law had been staying with us for several weeks as she entered the later stage of her first pregnancy.  Her husband was flying down from Brisbane on the weekends, but Faith wanted to be near her sister and parents during this last crucial part.  I was hoping John, her husband, would be here when she went into labour.

Bonny gave me a funny look.

“Your four o’clock is here. She's waiting for you, and I’m getting a funny vibe.”

“Vibe?” I said, picking up the tone of her voice. I looked at my calendar. Confirming it was a representative from one of our subsidiaries providing me with a report on how they were looking at projecting next year's numbers.  I was expecting at least three people, not just a single woman.

“She’s a little young, and there's…”

“What is it?”

“Hi, Daddy,” I heard suddenly from the doorway.

I turned, and standing there was one of my estranged daughters.

“Torri,” I said, suddenly on guard.  “What are you doing here?”

“I… I came to see you,” she told me.  I stood behind my desk.

Torri and her sister would now be nineteen, and it had been just over seven years since I had last spoken with her. 

“Bonny, can you call Grace and tell her I may be a little late?”

Bonny nodded and excused herself, closing the door on the way out.  She knew the broad brushstrokes of my history, enough to fill in the blanks and would act accordingly to protect my interests.

In my senior role, I had a large office. On one side, I had my desk, bookshelves, and in-trays for my paperwork. On the other side was a table with six seats and two three-seater couches, separated by a coffee table. I gestured for Torri to sit on one of the couches as I moved and walked to the meeting table, retrieving two glasses and the ever-present water pitcher.   

I caught Torri looking at my foot, dressed as I was, the only indication I was missing the appendage was a slight limp.  I sat on the other couch and poured us both a glass of water.  I could see she was nervous.

“So what can I do for you today Ms Dewsteady?” I asked her formally, using her adopted surname.

Her shoulders slumped, and I could see that I had almost undone her with one sentence.

“My meeting was to walk through reports.  I take it you're not here to do that?” I asked her.

She shook her head and sipped her water with a slightly trembling hand.

“I… I’m…” She struggled.

I sat back, ran a hand through my hair, and felt my stump itch. I had wondered for years what I would do if I ever spoke to either of my daughters again. I had imagined many different scenarios, including something like this, but now, faced with it happening, I felt a number of emotions, from anger to love.

How did I want to play this?

“Ms Dewsteady,” I told her, my tone firm and, while not unfriendly, it did not hold the air of someone who had been present for her early years of life.  It did cause her to pause.

“I’d like to tell you a story, if I may.”

She took a couple of moments and slowly nodded her head.  I think she had an inkling of what I was about to start talking about.  I smiled mournfully in return.

“I knew this guy once, a long time ago,” I began. “Fairly handsome guy, easy on the eyes, liked to party, and he enjoyed a few random hookups with some of the female attention he generated.”

Torri looked at me, and I gave a bigger smile.

“Oh yes, he played the field. Never had the same girlfriend for more than a few months.  He was fit and trim, loved to run and enjoyed a growing finance career.  Most would say that this young man had the world by the balls.”

Torri’s face cracked into a small smile.

“But then he met a woman. They fell instantly in lust with each other and tore up the silk sheets like they were nothing but rags.  They were compatible and had similar outlooks on life and wanted success, and for the first time, the guy considered looking at keeping a relationship going.  He even started putting money towards a ring.”

Now Torri was smiling. But I lost mine.

“However, the relationship was doomed,” I told her. “A week before he was going to pop the question, one of his previous girlfriends, a woman he liked but never saw a real future with, turned up pregnant on his doorstep.”

The look of shock on Torri’s face showed.

“The man pleaded that it couldn’t be his, but the woman insisted, and over the next month, through a lot of conversation and some testing, they both came to understand that the pregnancy was a product of their time together.  It wasn’t planned, but it was happening.”

“The man was honest with his girlfriend about it, noting that he would support the children from his previous lover but that his heart belonged to her.  However, when it was found that the woman was having twins, their relationship fell apart.”

Torri’s face was sad now.

“Heartbroken, the man chose not to date anymore and focused on the impending birth of his upcoming children, daughters, as it turned out. He spent more time with his ex, went to birthing classes, attended appointments, and even spent many meal times with her at both her place and her parents' place.

“Not surprisingly, the two previous lovers reconnected, and by the time their twins were born, they were a couple again, sharing the same bed, and not six months after their birth, they married.”

Torri squirmed.

“Why have I never heard this story?” she asked, but I held up my hand and kept going.

“The man had grown to love his daughter's mother in the months that they spent together as they waited for their children.  She could be opinionated and stubborn, but she could also be caring and thoughtful.” I smirked. “She was also good-looking, and the sex was great.”

Torri didn’t really react.

“When their daughters were born, though, the man understood the meaning of unconditional love.  Yes, he loved the girl's mother, but then he held his daughters in his arms, and he knew he would try his hardest to be the best darn Dad they knew.”

At that moment, my phone chirped. While Torri digested my comment, I picked it up and ensured it was not a work message. As expected, it wasn’t.

[ Bonny, let me know Torri turned up. Take your time, know that I love you and I’m thinking of you ]

I smiled at my wife's message before turning my phone back over and placing it on the couch beside me. Torri looked at me with a question on her face, so I dropped the smile and continued the story.

“The man was happy for several years, he had a wife and two daughters he loved.  A job that he was good at, and an extended family that he didn’t mind spending time with.  He was fit, still good-looking, and hit on often enough, though he never gave in to temptation because, despite their beginnings, he loved his wife.  It turned out that she just didn’t love him.”

The smile that had previously been on her face dropped.  I nodded.

“It turns out that before she heartlessly uttered those magic words ‘We need to talk’, she had been having an affair with the man’s cousin. 

“I mean, come on, his cousin, and for a number of years.  Yet when she had the talk, she couldn’t even do it one-on-one. She recruited her lover, his cousin. And worse, his daughters.”

Torri blushed and looked away, but I could see the flush of shame running up her neck.

“The anger and rage he felt at their betrayal were monumental.  But at the same time, he cycled into a severe depression, and then, his now ex-wife and cousin married, and despite promises of shared custody, there was always a reason why he could not see his daughters.

“Worse,” I said angrily. “The only times he got to see them were when she wanted him for babysitting services, and in those times, his daughters, whom their mother had taught, treated him as a taxi service, not a father.”

I sighed.

“Still, the man strove to be there for his daughters,” I said, smiling. “Cherishing the small moments that he got to spend with them.  In his depression, he became unfit, overweight and ate poorly.  He knew all this but could not break the cycle.”

Torri wanted to say something, but I shook my head with another sad smile, silencing her.

“He would have endured that forever, however, not long before his fortieth birthday, which was also a few days astride of Father’s Day; his daughters told him that they didn’t want to see him anymore, that they had lives that did not factor him into account, and he didn’t factor in them anymore.”

“Dad, I…” she started to say.

“This was, of course, backed up by his bitch of an ex-wife,” I spat, interrupting her, my glare stopping her cold.  This was obviously not going the way she thought it would.

“When he got up and walked out of the café that day, no longer able to endure the humiliation of being a doormat and lacking any respect from his daughters, his ex-wife chased after him to tell him that he had to take the girls because she had ‘plans’.”

Again, Torri went to speak, and I interrupted again.

“Then she told him that they would be out of the country on holidays,” I told her, my voice now almost a horse whisper as I remembered the conversation by the car so many years ago. “She was specifically taking them away during his birthday and Father's Day.  Between that and what his daughters had just told him.  He told her she had won and signed forms he had been preparing for months, fearing the worst.  He would give up his legal rights to his daughters and sign a check for almost every dollar he had in child support until the ungrateful girls turned eighteen.”

Torri was openly crying now, but honestly, I didn’t care. I kept going.

“But it gets even better. Later that day, this guy decided that now that his traitorous ex-family was out of his life, he would once again get fit. He had only himself to look after now.  However, after a good first walk to lose weight and picking up a load of groceries, he got into an accident in which he lost a foot.”

With that, Torri watches as I lift my trouser leg and show her the prosthetic foot I now sport.  After a few moments, I let my trouser leg down and looked at her, sobbing, and I can admit it felt good that she was feeling horrible.

I was on a roll now, so I continued.

“When the man woke up, he found that his daughters were indeed out of the country on holiday. Feeling quite low, he wondered if, despite their distance, his daughter knew of his accident, if they might have had an ounce of compassion for the man they once loved, and he was told they knew.  Depressed, he understood that they truly didn’t give a shit about him anymore.  He learnt that he’s been fired and evicted. And despite some deep support from his sister.  The world became grey, devoid of colour, of emotions.  So, in a moment of weakness, the man gives up. He chooses to end it all.”

Torri gasped then, and despite her tears, the stare she gave me was one of pure anguish.  After so many years of therapy and Grace's love, I can make this a straightforward action. I shrug.

“But this is where his story turns around,” I explain. “See, this guy, he had a plan. He was writing letters to everyone around him. Those he loved, those he hated, even the daughters who had abandoned him.  He chose a spot where he was going to throw himself off a high cliff into a swollen creek, but before he could carry out his plan, he heard it.  The woman’s scream.”

Despite the drama, I managed to smile, even as Torri looked distraught.

“In the ensuing spectacle, he rescues a woman who is doing the same thing he is about to do. But ignoring his own plight, he rescues her, putting himself back in the hospital again.

“To cut a long story short, these two broken souls fall in love and with help from her family, who were quite well off. He finds out that those who had betrayed him were also stealing from him.  Using money that was supposed to be his to fund their decadent lifestyle.”

I paused and looked at Torri. I was pretty sure she was listening, but by now, I doubted she was hearing what I was saying. 

I handed her a tissue. And a few moments later, she was settling down.

“So, forgive me, Ms Dewsteady, if I have very little empathy for you. I am not going to hug you and tell you everything is okay,” I told her sternly. “You betrayed me, told me how irrelevant I was to you, and then used my money to fund your shopping, clothes and social life.

“If it had not been for Grace and the opportunity to save her, I would likely be dead, and you still wouldn’t give a shit.”

I almost spat that last bit; some of my old venom towards my former family came to the surface.  Torri broke down again, and I stood and made my way to the Window of my office and stood there, peering out over the vista, my hands clenched behind my back as Torri sobbed.

“Dad,” she said softly after a couple of minutes. In the reflection of the glass, I could see she was still sitting on the couch. Her red-ringed face turned towards mine. “I didn’t know.”

I spun in anger.

“Didn’t know or didn’t care!” I snapped. “How many times over the years have you bothered to try to contact me?  Did you ever try to talk to your grandparents or your auntie, because I know they tried to talk with you…”

I snorted as she looked away.

“Like I thought, a big fat zero.”

Closing my eyes, I leaned back on the windowsill, put my hands in my pockets, and shook my head slightly. I thought of Grace, Faith, my kids, and even Cameron and Rose, who were some of my closest friends now. Thinking of them calmed me.

“But it doesn’t matter,” I told her. “You and your family are no longer a part of mine.”

I opened my eyes and looked at the distraught woman, whom I had once adored and admired with all my heart.

I sighed, dam it.  Even after all that, I still cared.

“What is it that you want, Torri?” I asked her, trying to recenter myself. “You don’t just get on a plane to visit someone you have had no interest in for over a decade just to cry in his office.  You’re here for a reason. What is it?”

With that, I sat back down and waited. I watched as Torri tried to calm herself, wiping her nose and taking several large breaths. She sank back into the couch, and her gaze immediately drifted out the window, her neck bending slightly. Grace told me I did that when I was trying to think what to say.  It hurt because a straightforward gesture showed that we were father and daughter.

“The reason I am here is pretty simple,” she told me, still hesitating. “But the path is long and complex.  Would you be willing to listen?  I hope there is not too much to upset you.  But there is a reason I am here intruding into your life.”

I stood once more and walked to my desk. On it was a picture of Grace, Thomas, Ashleigh, and me smiling and enjoying a day at the Zoo. It was a beautiful day, and I had so enjoyed seeing the kids' trepidation at seeing the animals and the joy that came once they adjusted to their presence.

It made me think of a time when Torri and Lacey were young, and we did the same thing.  I moved back to the couch and sat, knowing this likely wasn’t a good idea, and let Torri know the floor was hers.

It was now her turn to close her eyes, and she calmed noticeably.

“When we were young, Lacey and I thought you hung the moon,” she told me. “I mean, you did everything you could for us.  Made dinner most evenings, did the laundry, and cleaned our bathrooms.  We never really understood what you were doing, only that you did it and we didn’t need to.”

“It’s what a loving parent does,” I told her flatly.

She nodded.

“I know, but you did it all with a smile.  And we thought you were awesome for it.  I mean, most of our friends ’ mums did that while their dads worked; you did both.”

I nodded. Back then, I never even twigged that my then-wife’s community work had nothing to do with community and more to do with donating time to my cousin.

“I also think that set Lacey and me up for failure,” she said sadly. “I mean, we had you for everything; you didn’t need to be asked. You just did it.”

I felt my anger grow, and Torri stuck her hand up.

“I’m not blaming you, Dad,” she said. “We became entitled bitches, and there is no excusing that.”

“But when he started hanging out more while you were at work, we never thought more about it,” she told me, referring to my cousin. “Neither was it something that he and Mum flaunted in our faces right away; they introduced us to them as a couple over time, like it was natural.  He bought us treats when we went out.  New clothes impressed us and we went places while you were at work…”

She let that sink in. Of course, I had suspected a lot of this years ago. But to hear it was enlightening.

“When they told us of their relationship and that we were all better off with him, they did it in a way that never quite said you were a bad father, but that they had servants who could do the things that you do. That he and Mum were much more in love than Mum and you ever were, and we could all have a better life.”

Hearing her explain it that way, I could almost understand how it would have happened. I could almost empathise with the situation.

Almost.

I think she could guess what I was thinking because she shook her head sadly.

“You're right, Dad. Lacey and I still made the decision. We should have been stronger against the seduction. We were teenagers and at least had some ability to reason. There are reasons, but no excuses. Hindsight is a great teacher.”

I nodded, while frowning, and we both sat contemplating things for a moment.

“Shame,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Shame,” she repeated.  “That’s why Lacey and I have not reached out.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“After that day in the café, we were ashamed.  I mean, you just got up and walked out, calling us a couple of self-entitled bitches.  We watched you and Mum fight, then you drove away.  Mum was pissed at you and had no qualms about calling you every name under the sun and then a few more.”

“Lacey and I were embarrassed. We thought we had it all laid out in a way that made sense.  We just thought we could see you now and then. We never thought you were bad; it was just…”

“You thought I was a fat, unfit father, that could do nothing more than drop you off places.”

“No!” she said instantly and quite forcefully.

“That is not true,” she said. “Neither of us thought of you that way.  Sure, Mum and he often referred to your weight gain, but to us, you were still our Dad.”

“Really?” I asked.  “I mean, I was quite a porker there for a while?”

“Really,” she replied. “We knew it was the divorce and some of what we had done to you.  So, no, Dad, we never thought of you like that.”

“Okay,” was all I could say.

“We heard of your accident the day after. Grandma called Mum, and we heard it was a huge argument between them. Lacey and I wanted to cut our trip short. But he and Mum told us no, that you were in no danger, and we could see you when we got back.  To compensate, he took us shopping and spent lavishly on us. When we got back, we realised that we had missed your birthday and everything. And when we asked Mum to take us, that was when she showed us the forms that you had really disowned us.

“I don’t think either Lacey or I left the house or stopped crying for a week.  Shame, Dad. We were at last aware of what we had become, and Mum showed us that document, proving that it was all our fault.”

“But Torri, even back then, I would have welcomed you back…”

She was on her feet in a second, her hand pushing through her hair in a frustrated fashion, her voice tense.

“You think I don’t know that!  That Lacey and I didn’t fight with each other over everything because we thought the same thing.  But then Mum and he would point out the forms, always just on the bench, and it would kill our spirits all over again.”

She threw herself down on the couch. “If Lacey knew you had tried to kill yourself, she wouldn’t make it.”

I cocked an eyebrow, and Torri paled, understanding that she had let something slip.

“So where is your sister?” I asked. “I mean, you had to know this was going to be tough, but I would have expected her to be here, too?”

Torri looked away again, a pained expression on her face.

“She couldn’t come.”

“Why?”

Torri looked at me, trying to say words.

“Because she is in the hospital, dying.”

I felt my stomach lurch.  Did I like my daughters? No.  Did I still love them? The short answer is yes.

“What happened?”

“About nine months ago. Lacey started to just run out of energy at odd times.  At first, Mum and I thought it was just some exhaustion, but early nights and healthy food did nothing.  Then she started getting itchy skin all the time and a few… women’s issues. So she went to the doctor.”

I nodded, giving her my full attention for the first time. Torri sighed.

“No one quite knows the cause, but Lacey has been diagnosed with Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, or PSC.  It is a chronic disease that affects the liver.  Her diagnosis is six months without help.”

Help. I heard everything that she said, but the word ‘help’ stuck in my head.

“What is the treatment?”

She looked at me.

“There are very few options,” she told me. “Basically, over time, the liver fails due to the bile ducts becoming narrow and causing cirrhosis, scarring of the liver, and organ failure.”

I nodded once more.  I knew very little about medical things like this, but Torri had had a crash course over the past few months.

“The main treatment is a living donor transplant.  Where they take one of the lobes of a healthy liver and transplant it into Lacey, and let the liver regrow.”

She smiled wanly at me.

“Both Mum and I have been tested.  Mum isn’t compatible and my tests show I have some of the same issues with my liver that could turn into PSC, so they can’t use me…”

I sat there, and the true implications of what she was saying hit me.

“So…” I started and stopped. I looked at her and stood, paced around my office a little and leaned back onto the windowsill once again.  “You think I might be compatible?”

Torri nodded. “The doctors believe there is a strong likelihood that you will be, since Mum isn’t. Usually, one of the parents in these cases is.”

“And if she can’t use mine?”

As I looked at the now-grown woman I used to call my daughter, her eyes widened.  She had not missed the fact that I did not talk about compatibility, more than I told her I might not be willing to help her sister, even if I was able.

A mix of thoughts crossed her face that only someone who had guided her through her childhood could understand.  In the end, sadness was the emotion that came out the most.

“Then most likely she will die.”

I nodded. Then held up my hand in a pause sign.

“I am not saying I am unwilling to undertake the testing or even the procedure.  But it is a major decision and one I must talk about with my family.”

I could see she wanted to argue.  But then I saw the shame play across her face, and she nodded.

“Let me talk to some people tonight. Where are you staying?” I asked.

“I’ve got a room at the Regis for the night.  They had a special, so I got it cheap.”

“So I can contact you there as Torri Dewsteady?”

“Other”

“Really?”

“Yes, for a few years now.”

“Okay”

With that, I gestured for her to stand and escorted her out of my office and to the elevator.  I think she was expecting some kind words, a hug, or something. But if she was she would have been disappointed.  When the doors opened and she moved into the lift, I spoke.

“I’ll contact you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, and Dad.”

I looked at her.

“I’m sorry.”

I just nodded as the doors closed, and I walked back to my office, thinking about what had been said.

[:::: End of Chapter 10 ::::]

[:::: Chapter 11, Part III ::::]

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