~ Lord, I'm Coming Home ~

by

Stephanie Redmont

Rich busied himself getting his wallet dry, carefully observing Charlotte while seeming to ignore her. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average size, average looks. She might be pretty if she fixed up a little and did something with that stringy hair. How in the world had she manipulated herself into his dad’s good graces? Whatever was going on, he was certain she either had her hand in the old man’s pocket or was maneuvering to get it there. He decided to try the direct approach, maybe catch her off guard.

“Aren’t you a little young for my dad? Or do you prefer older men?” he asked. Good. She looked startled. Let’s get a little emotion going here, Sis. Maybe your adrenalin will act like a low-grade truth serum. She looked like she was struggling to maintain her composure.

“You are on the security company’s call list,” Rich went on. “You appear to have the run of the house. It’s perfectly obvious what’s going on.” That ought to get her going.

Charlotte looked Rich in the eye across the kitchen table. He had to give it to her; she had some spunk. “If you can’t show me any respect,” she said tightly, “You could at least think better of your own father. What’s going on between Dick and me is an honest business relationship. I’m his legal guardian.”

Rich said what he always said to nonsense, and boom!

“Hold it right there, Mr. Martino.” Charlotte said sternly. “I’ve tolerated your crude language, even your lewd suggestion. But I will absolutely not put up with you insulting our Lord by using his name as a curse. If you want to talk that way when I’m not around, then I guess that’s your business. But you do that one more time in my presence, and all conversation between you and me will be at an end.”

Interesting. When he had tried to make this woman mad, she was as cool and soft-spoken as his mother had been. Then he said one little phrase that he used and heard all the time, and she went ballistic. At least he had established there was fire under the ice.

As he put everything back in its place in his wallet, Rich worked at organizing his situation. This Jesus freak claimed his dad was in a coma and that she was his legal guardian. That was on top of finding out his wife had left him, his credit cards were no good, his bank balance was probably a big goose egg, and his car was missing. At least he had Buster. Wait! Car…missing. Rich remembered he didn’t have the keys to his dad’s Town Car out there in the driveway. If this woman didn’t take him to the hospital, he was back in the taxi-riding business. He had gained a little insight into which buttons to push, and he was confident he would learn more when the occasion arose. But for now, it was time to turn on the charm, at least until she got him where he wanted to go.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his good boy face over the sardonic grin. “The past couple of days have been difficult for me. I have a lot of questions, and I know you do, too. But first, let’s go see my dad. And you can call me Rich.”

“I’m Charlotte. I’m sure you know I’m not the one you should be asking for forgiveness,” she said sweetly. “Are you ready to go?”

Rich had been hoping for a chance to contact Jerry McClain. Dad’s shyster lawyer would have this pious little phony running for the county line in no time flat. Rich couldn’t have been more surprised when, on the way to the hospital, Charlotte asked him to look in her purse for her cell phone so she could call Jerry. Either this was her first big time scam or she limited her marks to doddering old men, Rich mused. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have let him check out her purse in the dark car. Or maybe she was careless, and had forgotten she was carrying Dick’s wallet around with her.

“Jerry, this is Charlotte.” She said. “Fine, and yourself?” “Jerry, there’s no time to break this to you gradually, so here it is. Dick’s son, Rich, has come home. He’s not dead after all.” There was a pause. “I don’t know, Jerry. I’m sure everything will work out in the end.” Another pause.

Rich could hear Jerry’s dry voice crackling from Charlotte’s hand-held phone.

“We’re on our way to the hospital right now. Yes, he’s with me. Do you want to talk to him? All right, then, we’ll see you there. Goodbye”.

Charlotte handed the phone back to Rich. “Thank you,” she said, “Jerry’s going to meet us at Methodist.” Rich gave Charlotte a few points for being more clever than he first thought. Imagine! She had that old skeptic Jerry McClain under her spell.