A Bachelor Father

I'd like to thank kenjisato, again, for great editing and my dining friends for input. If you find any mistakes, it's probably something I did after editing. Active sexual activity only involves characters over the age of eighteen. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and my bank account.

A Bachelor Father

I became an instant father.

The greatest pleasure of life is love. —Euripides.

My name is Michael Ryan, Mike. My birth mom, Judith Ryan, had died in my birth, and my dad had married my stepmom, Beth, short for Elizabeth, when I was two. I called her mom from then 'til the day she died. After I turned four, I became a big brother to my half-sister, Ellen, she and I were close. I love my sister with all my heart. Dad, John Ryan, was an executive, and after having lived through "The Depression" as a child, he made sure he had an ostrich-sized nest egg.

Ellen and I mostly had a normal childhood, until our family was hit by a tragedy or, should I say, tragedies.

We lost Dad to cancer when I was a senior in high school, and Ellen was an eighth grader in junior high school. Mom set up a trust fund for both Ellen and me.

Mom did not handle Dad's death well, but was under a therapist's care. A year after Dad passed, Mom died in a car accident. The insurance company had the nerve to say it was suicide because of her depression over our dad, but the courts and a judge said it was vehicular homicide by the other driver. When our lawyer was finished with the insurance company, her fees were paid, and we had more than a reasonable-sized settlement. It was added to our trust funds, as per my mom's wishes. The trust funds took care of our needs— college and most of our living expenses. I was given guardianship of my sister since I was then eighteen, for the few years before she would turn eighteen. I also oversaw the trust funds that were created, first at Dad's death and then increased with Mom's death. We both had to wait until we were twenty-five to access them.

When I turned twenty-five, I left my trust fund alone, since I had a good job.

I tried to be a parent and a brother to my sister, while she was in high school and college. When she graduated college, she fell in love and married a truly deceitful man, Paul. She got pregnant right away, and my niece, Elizabeth Ann, Beth, was born. She was named after our mother and our grandmother.

Since I was in charge of the trust, Ellen named me Beth's godfather.

Within six months of Elizabeth Ann's birth, Ellen came to me to ask to have me release the trust fund to her before her twenty-fifth birthday; she was only twenty-two at the time. Both Ellen and her husband had good jobs and did not need the money. I knew this was the workings of her husband; I did not trust the son of a bitch, he was just waiting for Ellen to get the trust fund money. I put her off by saying that the trust fund had a nine-month waiting period between all changes. "We had just made changes in the trust for Elizabeth Ann." I lied, there wasn't a waiting period.

The loss of a sister, a friend, and a mommy.

I was sitting home one Saturday night, and there was a knock on my door, it was the police. I needed to go to St John's Hospital; my sister had been "attacked." When I got there, Ellen was in critical condition, and Paul was holding one-year-old Beth. The first thing he asked me about was the fucking trust fund! THE FUCKING TRUST FUND!!

I found the detective handling Ellen's case, and I told him what the jackass had asked me. The detective had already pegged Paul as the suspect; he still had blood on him, and he claimed that he had tried to fight off the attacker. I asked the detective to make sure my niece was away from Paul because she had blood on her. (It had already been done.) The detective told me a nurse had taken Beth to pediatrics to be checked out.

Paul started to tell a tale that someone my size had attacked Ellen. He actually said that Ellen and I had argued the day before, but we hadn't. (I had been out of town at one of my company's subsidiaries.) I could see where Paul was trying to go with his story... I saw through it, as did the detective.

Later that night, the crime scene crew (CSI) found a knife 'hidden' under the living room couch in the apartment. (It was later tested and had blood from Ellen, Paul's fingerprints on it, and even some of Beth's hair on it.)

Paul was sitting in a waiting room, not asking how his wife, my sister, was or anything about his daughter, my niece, and godchild!

A doctor came in and told us they had done everything they could to try to save Ellen's life, to put it in layman's terms, "She had lost too much blood and had extremely damaged internal organs."

Paul just walked out of the hospital. The detective sent a patrol car to their apartment; they picked up Paul outside the apartment.

The detective's questions to Paul were thorough, and had a surprise question; it seemed out of the blue, the detective asked, "Why did you kill your wife?" (It was a great question.)

Paul, like a dumbass, answered, "Who told you? No one could have seen me do it."

Thank God he had been Mirandized, and that the detective was recording it.

Paul was locked up.

When Beth was being released, Child Protective Services (CPS) came to get her.

I said, "No, I will take my niece home with me, I am her godfather!"

The CPS lady was hesitant. It looked like we were at a standstill. Just then, the hospital's chaplain came up and asked me how I was doing; he had baptized Beth less than a year earlier. I just broke down and cried. The minister, Reverend Joseph, walked over to the CPS lady, and told her in no uncertain terms that I was the next of kin and Beth's godfather! And that I would take Beth home, and that was that!

It had been hours since the crime; I drove over to Ellen's apartment. The CSI team had finished their investigation. Since they had established that the whole crime happened on the balcony and in the living room of the apartment, I was able to get a lot of Beth's clothes, toys, and her crib out of her room while I was escorted by a policewoman. I drove to the 24-hour Walmart, and picked up more 'kid's stuff'. Reverend Joe and his wife Martha met me there. They gave me a two-thousand-dollar check from the church to help. I did not need it, but I took the action to heart. (I now donate at least 25,000 dollars to the church yearly.)

That was when I became a bachelor father! It took me months to return to normal, well, my new normal.

The Trial.

Paul was charged with capital murder; the trial was to last two weeks. I sat in the front row every day; some of the church ladies from Reverend Joe's church watched Beth for me. I was searched every single day for weapons since I was Ellen's brother; I guess they figured I'd be the one to watch.

After the prosecution rested its case after the first week, Paul saw the writing on the wall and worked out a plea deal that kept him off of death row.

I was able to give the victim impact statement. While looking at Paul in the eyes, I ended with, "If you become eligible for parole, I plan to attend every one of your parole hearings. I am upset that I will miss seeing you die by injection, and I am going to have your parental rights severed as your head should be." That last bit did get a gavel pound from the judge. I did apologize to the judge. Paul received a life sentence (forty years), plus twelve months for child endangerment, as he had committed the crime while Ellen was holding Beth. Fortunately, he did not leave prison alive, and there was no one to claim the body!

The next week, I filed, for Beth, a lawsuit against Paul. She got his retirement fund, all, and any savings, and if he ever got any money, it would be hers. I got guardianship, and my application for my 'kinship adoption' was expedited.

I enrolled Beth in the company's daycare. I cut my social life to a 'negative' zero. My life was just work and Beth. I read to Beth nightly. Beth started calling me daddy when she turned three.

I kept my nose to the grindstone and received promotions and bonuses.

I was then an executive in my company, a young executive, but since I was a father, the Board could see my worth (active fatherhood was a prized attribute in my company). My company was a top accounting firm in the state. I achieved a vice president position, as director of human resources (HR). I had a corner office! I had the final word on all hirings and firings.

I was number one on the top-one-hundred eligible bachelors 'list' in my 'work community'; I had thought it was a little community. I was not looking for romance, I just didn't have the time, unless I made time for it. What time I had was with my little Beth.

Beth was seeing moms picking up her daycare classmates, and she asked me why she did not have a mommy. It was getting hard to deflect those inquiries from her. I decided that I needed to find Beth a mommy. I approached it scientifically (it must be my inner nerd). In my home office, I had a chart with the requirements for a mommy for Beth, and the names of prospects that I had met. Yes, I understood it would mean a woman for me, too.

My job at HR.

The company was by then all over Arizona, soon to have hundreds of employees. Four full offices in Tucson, Flagstaff, Yuma, and the main office in Phoenix, which serviced the whole metropolitan area. (From the town of Buckeye in the west to the city Apache Junction in the east; from the town of Maricopa in the south to the community of Anthem in the north, and a couple of satellite offices in the cities of Casa Grande and Prescott).

As we did not have a legal department, it was decided that we needed an in-house attorney, leading to a full legal division; we had been contracting out our legal work. I first thought of the expense of having a law office at each branch and what it would be, but with computers, each office would have a 'law cubical' staffed by a legal secretary. I studied what an in-house attorney did, and the expertise which was needed. We had seven applicants, four men and three women.

I was getting cross-eyed reading resumés. One of the men did not pass the background check; one down. Two were fresh out of law school, so not enough experience; three down. One of the women pulled her application because she got pregnant and wanted to wait for her baby to be older before going to work full-time; four down. Another one of the women got hired before I could call to schedule an appointment for an interview; five down.

That left me with one male applicant and one female applicant. On interview day, I wore my nicest suit; it screamed professionalism and power. If I wanted the applicants to look professional, I HAD to look professional myself. I made time Friday morning to interview both of them. I put their names 'in a hat' and picked to see who I'd interview first.

The woman's name came up first— Rebecca Miller, Esquire. She was dressed in a professional blue suit with a white blouse and reasonable shoes; her blonde hair had a professional-looking bun, and she was wearing minimal makeup. She had a look that said, "I know my shit... er... stuff." She was twenty-eight, and had two-and-a-half years in a corporate setting, and one year where she worked for a nonprofit. She checked all the boxes. Her voice was like a song until she started to answer my law school test questions. Then she sounded like my eighth-grade social studies teacher explaining the Constitution. I liked my eighth-grade social studies teacher, and I had straight A's in her classes.

The male lawyer, Billy Bob Jones, Esquire. (That was the name on his business card.) He had on a loud tie, his blue suit was wrinkled, he was wearing very brown shoes, and he had given Rebecca a look like you'd see in a pick-up bar as she walked out. When I asked my law test question, he actually asked, "Where the hell did you come up with that one?" To top it off, I thought I had seen his picture on the side of a bus, advertising accident representation. I thanked him for his time and politely said something that meant, "Don't call us, we will call you."

I called Rebecca Miller, Esq. immediately, and asked her when she could come back in. She said she was just in the coffee shop in the lobby of the building. I said, "Good, could you bring me some coffee with you? I'll call them to charge yours and mine to my account."

Ten minutes later, she was back in my office drinking coffee and eating a nice Danish. She was filling out personnel forms, 401k, health insurance, access numbers, and email addresses. As I looked at her health insurance form, it showed she had a child but no spouse. Her daughter was Beth's age. Her name was Ann Elizabeth. As I got the admission forms for the company's daycare, I told her what a small world it was that our children had the same names just switched.

I gave our daycare high marks, and said, "My daughter is there right now."

"Oh, where does your wife work?"

"I'm not married; I am Beth's uncle, my sister was murdered by her husband."

"I am so sorry, my daughter's dad died while he was in the Navy, we were only married about a year. When Ann was one month old, some kind of freak accident during training. I was in the middle of packing up the house so we could move to Yokosuka, Japan."

I patted her hand and said I was sorry for her loss. It was like electricity was flowing between us on that touch. "You were able to raise a four-year-old alone, wow!"

She continued, "Civilian military support groups helped, I finished my education because of those groups. The VA was little help at that time."

To change the topic, I asked her if she had lunch yet.

"No, Mr. Ryan."

"Call me Mike."

"Call me Becca."

"I can expense a lunch for a new employee," I said, with a smile. I never 'expense a lunch.'

As we left the office, I told my secretary to cancel any afternoon appointments.

As we enjoyed our lunch, I discussed more of the company's information. I told her that her office would be next to mine, and until she hired her secretary, she would be using my secretary.

"The main areas that you will probably be concentrating on will be contract law and personnel law, you know, employment-type law... How are you on public speaking?"

"Put me in a courtroom and I feel I'm in my element. But I will have to work on my 'seminar' speaking."

"Well, Becca, I handle the speaking at personnel seminars. You will be there to give legal opinions."

Becca let out an audible, "Phew."

"When it comes to dress code, I have put a stipend in for your professional attire and cleaning for you. I know it is not cheap to always be on 'display' my last three-piece suit cost me a lot before tailoring, and that was even the previous year's style. The style you are dressed in now is perfect. I need an in-house attorney that displays professionalism one-hundred-and-ten percent while at work and company functions; well, the company picnic, you can drop to ninety-nine percent," I said, with a chuckle.

"Luckily, you show the image we are looking for."

I was looking for an 'image' also, a mommy for Elizabeth Ann and maybe for myself. I just didn't know she was sitting right in front of me.

I recited my human resources spiel. "One of the mundane responsibilities you will have will be discussing dress code with the female employees. The fraternization policy is don't let 'relationships' affect your work. Dating coworkers is okay." After a pause, "Is there anything more you'd like to know about the company and employees, or do you want to find out on your own?"

Becca responded, "A little bit of both."

It was a delightful lunch as we finished our coffee and the light cake dessert.

She had her hand on the table; I reached for her hand to give it a reassuring pat since we had been talking about work the whole time. "Okay, I think we have talked shop long enough." When I touched her hand, the electricity was flowing between us again. My eyes widened to see Becca's doing the same. I did mentally add Becca Miller, I mean Rebecca Miller, Esq., to Beth's mommy chart.

I cleared my mind and had enough sense to ask her, "I know from your resumé, you haven't lived here long."

"Well, my mom lives here, and she has become my lifesaver, she watches Ann for me, but the company daycare will give her a much-needed respite for her."

"Have you had time to explore our 'fine' city?"

"Only mom's neighborhood and the local Walmart," she said, with a giggle.

"Maybe I can take you for a tour sometime?

"Sure." She had sparkles in her eyes.

I threw down a tip and picked up the credit card receipt.

We walked out to my company truck, a Ford F-250 Crew Cab, the CFO and I had cut a fantastic deal on company cars, vans, and trucks for upper management. The deal was simple— a larger logo from the dealership was now on the back of each Ford vehicle, and an appropriate discount on the dealership's account with us.

I had a car seat in the back, and I got a harebrained idea. "Do you think our daughters would like to meet?"

"What?"

"Well, I could pick up Beth, and we could go by your mom's and pick up Ann, and I am sure we could feed two four-year-olds a kid-friendly dinner." I saw the sparkle in Becca's eyes. "I bet there are even some Disney movies we could watch; I have all the Disney animated movies on VHS tapes and DVDs."

I saw doubt in Becca's eyes, but she kind of shook it off, and said, "Okay."

As we drove back to the office, I made a leap of faith and suggested, "We could take the girls to the zoo. Maybe tomorrow, it's Saturday. I know my Beth wants a playmate so bad." I added, "I don't make it a habit inviting women to my house. I have a beautiful guest room for a sleepover, if you would like. You and Ann could stay in it tonight, so we could get an early start in the morning before it gets too hot."

"Let me think about it."

Was I going too fast? Hell, I was smitten by Ms. Rebecca Miller Esq., I mean Becca.

When I showed up at the daycare, our certified childcare director and pediatric nurse, Barbara, asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, just starting the weekend early."

When Beth saw me, she screamed as only a four-year-old could, "DADDY!" And jumped into my waiting arms.

Becca froze, and said, "I can't believe it." She took her cell out of her purse and showed me a picture of Ann.

I could not believe it, either, but Ann and Beth could pass as twins! Same color of eyes and the same hair color that only a hairdresser could see the difference in.

We buckled in Beth, and she asked, "Hoo is dis daddy? Hav u got a girlfend?"

"Honey, Becca is a friend. And she has a daughter your age," I said, with a blush on my face.

"Do me get a new fend?" Beth inquired.

"Maybe, honey, and we are going to watch movies tonight."

Becca called home and had a mother-daughter conversation. From what I heard, I was not sure my idea was going over well.

Becca gave me directions to a middle-class neighborhood of older homes.

I parked in the driveway. My Ford F-250 Crew Cab was the nicest and newest vehicle on the block.

Becca's mom was a charming woman who, aside from maturity, could pass as Becca's sister.

My Beth grabbed my hand and hid behind my leg, as only a apprehensive four-year-old can.

When the front door opened, a cute four-year-old jumped into Becca's arms and asked, "Did u get da job, mommy?"