Page 22 of Inevitably Yours

A few more moments of silence and Scotch appreciation followed. After another refill, Francis broke the silence. “So, what is it that doesn’t matter so much it’s got you sounding more like Walker or Stacy than the man I’ve grown to adore like my own son?”

It took a minute for John to realize what she meant. “Oh, that. I was trying to decide if I was hearing the call of a bobwhite or a mocking bird.”

“That passionate about birds, are you?” To an onlooker, it might sound as if they were having a casual conversation, but John knew better.

“Not really, I couldn’t care less, but for some reason, tonight, it seemed important. But I realized it wasn’t.” It was true, it frustrated him, not because of any bird, but because it was just one more thing he couldn’t seem to get a handle on. Control…he was out of control. He wanted to scream and beg for someone to help him get it back, but it didn’t work that way.

“Humph.” John didn’t like it when Francis made that sound. It usually preceded something you needed to hear but didn’t really want to. “Did I ever tell you why my parents spelled my name with an I instead of an E?”

Really? After I built it up in my mind and prepared for the hard truth, we’re going to talk about your name?John was stunned silent, and Francis continued without his answer.

“Well, I was a difficult child, even before I was born. My mother was an amazing woman, she worked right up until her labor sent her to the hospital. She had a degree, a family, and a doting husband. Everything a woman could possibly want. My dad, well, he was a good man. Hard-working, devoted, but not highly educated. Most folks considered him simple compared to my mother. Her parents even disowned her when she took up with him. He was older, didn’t go to college, and he worked in a local diner. She was young and beautiful and had a nine-to-five office job with all the trimmings.” Francis reached for the bottle.

“Sorry, I got sidetracked, how they met is a whole other story that I don’t have time for tonight. Frank should be headed back this way soon. My parents had a difficult time conceiving. The doctor told my mother she was lucky to have conceived me and carried me to term. Anyway, simple man, newborn child, and a wife who was knocked out on drugs from the birth. They had decided early on that if they were ever to marry and have children, their first son would be a Francis. When Mom got knocked up with yours truly, they decided son or daughter, I would be Francis, only Dad didn’t realize there was a different spelling for a female, or so the story goes.”

Francis stopped speaking and took another drink then cocked her head to the side. “Well, I’ll be damned, that is a bobwhite. That is a territorial call too, so that explains what it’s doing up so late.” Another drink accompanied a nod of her head. “Yep, anyway, the story that stuck all these years is that the minute Mom announced she was expecting, Dad had the owner of the diner teach him how to spell Francis. So, with Mom out like a light, it was up to my father to fill out the paperwork, spelling Francis the only way he knew how.”

John was completely lost as to where this story was going or how it related to his situation. What he did know? Sitting here drinking Scotch, listening to a bobwhite, cicadas, and Francis’ voice was helping all the same.

“After all the paperwork was filed and my birth certificate showed up in the mail, my mother cried, in secret, of course. At first, it broke her heart that I had a male name, but she refused to make my dad feel bad about it. He was called stupid too many times, and my mother never thought less of him. After I was born, my mother became pregnant again years later. She told my father then that if that baby was a boy, he would be Francis too, and that meant she’d have to change mine to the traditional spelling. She made it sound like a stylistic choice instead of an error on his part. But my brother never came home, and they had to take mother’s uterus with him.” John absently poured them another drink. This story may not apply to his life, but it was fascinating all the same.

“When my mom was dying, she confided in me how that was one of the moments where she knew, beyond any doubt, that she chose right when she picked my father over her family. She said to me, ‘My precious Francis, with an I, any man who can humble himself like that for the sake of the woman he loves, well, he is worth a thousand other people who would just have someone else do it for them. Your I may have been an accident, but it was no mistake. We needed a Francis in our lives, and well, we had you. It was meant to be. And your I means more to me than all the Es in the world. And your Frank, your Francis, well, he is an I in a sea of Es.”

Francis’ face glowed with the memory. Even though the story turned to her mother’s death, there wasn’t sadness surrounding her as she relived it. Just happiness. John was completely blown away by how she found all the good and let the bad go.

“Now, like I said, that is the family’s accepted version of the story, however, I sometimes think my dad was smarter than people gave him credit for being. Now, I’m not saying he could see into the future or anything like that, but have you ever just felt something was right in your bones but couldn’t explain why?” Francis questioned him with her eye over the rim of her glass.

At his nod, she continued, “Anyway, I think things just work out the way they were meant to. Sometimes, people just know something is right without explanation or reason. They don’t need to see the future or have to be smarter than Einstein to do it. Something inside them just tells them it needs to be, and I think you should always trust your gut. I always taught my—”

“You ready to go, beautiful?” Frank rounded the corner. “Sorry, didn’t meant to interrupt, just came to collect my beautiful bride.” John rose to shake the newest arrival’s hand, and he was pulled into a hug by the man.

Francis broke into their hug by slapping at Frank’s arm, and she inserted herself in John’s embrace. “We were done here, anyway; can’t you see the dead soldier there?” Next, she spoke for John’s ears only. “I bet you’re wondering what in the Sam Hill my name had to do with anything?” John nodded but didn’t break the embrace. Francis leaned back.

“Not a damn thing, that’s what. I just wanted to have a nice Scotch and some good company.” With that, she winked, grabbed her designer bag, and left.

John wasn’t convinced that her parting statement was true, but he’d be damned if he could figure it out tonight. One thing he did know was he couldn’t be objective if he were around Augusta—the whole control thing. He slid his phone off the table and texted her. He had meant to the minute he landed. She was probably worried since he always texted her at takeoff and landing.

Hey Beautiful.

FYI, back in town safe and sound. Sorry I missed landing, but with the company I had, you can understand. LOL

Things are really busy this week, so no worries if I’m MIA for a bit. I know you have your sister, but if you need anything, call me, if not, I’ll see you sometime next week.

He had bought himself a few days to figure out what he wanted. But just a few, if he didn’t decide soon, that would be viewed as a decision on its own.

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