Prodigal Son (Jensen Family #1) (29 page)

As always with one of her
parents’ parties, the food was opulent and the wine flowed freely along with
the conversation and laughter. She
appraised
each of
her children as they held their own in the conversations around the table,
Tessa, mature and sure of her opinion but prepared to listen to an alternative
point of view, considering it before she put forward her reply.

Matthew, smiling, taking
comments lightly and bringing his sense of humour to the forefront of his
replies, his face was red and Monica realised that he was slightly drunk; she
leant forward and got his attention before softly telling him to lay off the
wine and eat a little more.

And then there was Paul, her
troublesome son who she loved to distraction, he was quiet today which was
unusual when near his Spanish family as the knowledge that his father couldn’t
understand a single word he said usually buoyed him up and made him a lively
contributor to conversations, but not today. He used the fork in his left hand
to push the food around his plate but not once did he lift it to his mouth, his
right hand was wrapped around his wine glass, his eyes lowered as he watched
the food move from one side of his plate to the other.

He drained his wine glass and
reached for the bottle, upending it over his glass and sitting back in his
seat, he murmured a reply to some comment John made, the jist of which she
didn’t quite catch but whatever it was brought a frown to her sons’ brow. She
wished she had made the time to talk to him when he had asked her for he was
obviously on the verge of what his sixteen years would consider a great
revelation and she knew from experience that his brooding silence was never a
good thing.

“Paul? Perhaps you would like
to come home tonight?” She asked, her hand touching his as he reached for
another bottle of wine

“I think you should know the
whole story before you make that offer.” Unsurprisingly, he had answered in
Spanish.

The discussion at the other
end of the table had become loud and heated in the exchange between Charles and
Michael. As usual, they were talking about the direction Charles had seen his
company heading in before Michael had taken over the former now berating his
son for his slow action and lack of forward planning, he proceeded to tell his
son in no uncertain terms to pull his finger out and put the plans into
fruition and that perhaps he would someday actually be man enough to run the
company without his added assistance, Charles was, after all, supposed to be in
retirement.

More than a little drunk and
with his manhood in question, Michael raised his voice above that of his
fathers’ and let rip with a steaming diatribe of what made a man, which
according to Michael’s philosophy included running one’s own successful
business, make enough money to support oneself and sire a child.

To each point his father had
made, Paul had replied, again in Spanish, “Done that, doing that and huh,
hatrick
”

Monica had shot Paul a
warning look as he answered each of Michael’s comments in turn, nearly choking on
the food in her mouth at the last word.

“What did you say?” she
asked, speaking English.

Knowing he had allowed the
alcohol to loosen his tongue and he had said too much, Paul backtracked
“Nothing, I was just amusing myself.”

“You said
hatrick
when your father mentioned children.” Monica hissed but by now the conversation
had died down, she had everyone’s attention.

“It was nothing, I was
messing about.” Paul replied to Monica in Spanish, painfully aware that all
eyes were on them.

“What are you talking about?”
Michael’s voice broke the silence in the room.

Monica cleared her throat,
tearing her eyes from her son, she addresses her husband, “We were just
discussing the points you made Michael, would you mind repeating them?”

“I was merely saying my dear
that in order to be considered a man, one should have a successful business.”

“Done that” Paul answered, in
English this time.

John hastily lent towards his
nephew telling him that he needed to find another answer to the third part of
Michael’s statement to which Paul had shrugged and easily switching back to
Spanish said “What’s the point, it’s out there now.” while Michael continued;
“One should also make enough profit from said business to support oneself.”

“Doing that” Paul reached for
the wine, filled his glass and downed it quickly.

“And of course, the ultimate
proof of manhood, sire a child” Michael sat back, pleased with himself.

“As I said
before.”
Paul stood and looked at
Monica “
Hatrick
.”

“What do you mean
Hatrick
?” Michael asked confused “Sit down
boy,
you are making a fool out of yourself.”

“Well Dad.” Paul started, he
stumbled slightly as he pushed his chair away, the wine rushing to his head, “I
run my own successful business, I do make enough money to support myself and I
have, with the help of my older, school teacher girlfriend, sired a child so I
guess that makes me a man doesn’t it?” He asked the silent room, taking a
further stumbling step away from the table, he turned to face them, “Ladies, I
apologise if I have spoiled your afternoon,” he was slurring his words now “But
fuck this, I’m going to bed.”

“He’s going to regret those
wine filled balls very soon.” John sighed.

“You’ve done WHAT?” Michael
shouted also on his feet and making quick strides towards his son, there was a
commotion on the other side of the table as Monica extricated herself from her
seat and was encouraging Paula to move out of her way. Michael had Paul pinned
against the wall by his throat by the time she reached them.

“Michael, he’s drunk, he
doesn’t know what he’s saying.” She protested.

Ignoring his wife, Michael
addressed Paul “Not only have you brought shame upon this family from your
endless fist fights, you have in the past been expelled from school and now you
take up with a teacher and get her pregnant, how much more do we have to take
from you boy? You have been trouble from the day you were born, I saw it, it
amazes me that no one else has and that they repeatedly defend you but this is
the last straw, you are no son of mine.”

“That’s fine.” Paul slurred
“But according to your little speech back there, I am a fully fledged man, I am
successful and people do genuinely like me so perhaps
you
,” he poked
Michael in the chest “should show
me
a little more fucking respect.” His
reactions slowed by alcohol, Paul didn’t actually see the fist that knocked him
out cold.

Michael felt something snap
inside his head, the fact that his very first blow knocked Paul out cold only
served to fuel his rage, by the time John, Matt, Charles and Jackson managed to
pull him away from the beating he continued to give his unconscious son, he was
sweating profusely and panting from the effort of it.

“Who the hell does he think
he is to speak to me like that?” He howled as he was dragged out of the room.

“He’s a child Michael and he
needs our help, you only make matters worse,” Monica screamed at him “Don’t you
ever touch him again.”

A few hours later, Paul
opened his eyes and very quickly closed them again; the pain in his head was
similar to a jack hammer, intense white noise accompanied by throbbing;

“Ow.” he murmured, his
fingers pressing into his eyes, trying in vain to still the pulsing light that
flashed behind them.

“I take it your hang over is
in full swing?” John asked from his perch on the side of the bed.

“Uhuh,” Paul replied “pain
killers would be really helpful right about now.”

“Dude, you are my hero.”
Matt’s voice now “You fronted up to Dad big time, his head almost exploded when
you told him to show you some respect.”

“I did what?” Paul sat up, clutching
his head and groaning at the intense pain in his head the movement had caused,
as the duvet fell away, he saw the bruises that were starting to form on his
body “Why the hell did you let me say that?” he asked his brother.

“There was no stopping you,
you were on a roll.” Matt told him “Mum’s in shock at your revelation.”

“Will you stop talking in
riddles?” Paul snapped “Just tell me what happened, I don’t remember anything
after talking to you yesterday afternoon.” And by the time John and Matt had
filled him in on the afternoons event, Paul felt nauseous, sitting with his
head in his hands, he groaned “I have seriously fucked up,” he threw his legs
over the side of the bed, wincing as he felt the bruises across his ribs
accommodate themselves to the movement, standing in front of the mirror, he
surveyed the damage and was surprised that it was remarkably less than he had
received before and his face only had a few marks across his left cheek bone
and a slight split in his lip “Where’s Mum?” He asked, taking the shirt that
Matt held out to him.

“Downstairs.” Matt replied.

“And Dad?”

“He went home with Tessa.”

“I have to talk to Mum.” Paul
told the men in his room.

“I’m not sure that’s
advisable right now,” John spoke “She’s reeling, she knew you had something
else to tell her but she never guessed that it would be a potential
grandchild.”

“There’s nothing potential
about it,” Paul’s shoulders sagged, “It’s going to happen.” Sighing then, he
reached for the door handle “If I’m the man I proclaim to be, I have to tackle
this head on.” He told them.

Monica looked drained when he
approached her, for the first time he noticed the strands of grey in her hair
and her usual graceful stance had disappeared.

“Mum?” He said softly “Do you
feel up to talking?” He asked, painfully aware of his Grandparents watching
them.

“Let’s go into the garden,”
she left her chair and led him outside, down the garden to the pergola where
she sat heavily in the wooden chair.

“I’m so sorry.” Paul blurted
sitting beside her.

She didn’t answer or look at
him for a very long time, lost in her own thoughts, the sound of him striking a
match and lighting a cigarette bringing her back from the turmoil of her mind.

“You should have told me
sooner.” She said quietly

“I know. I wanted to. I just
didn’t know how to go about it.”

“Blurting it out in a drunken
stupor seemed like the best idea did it?”

“I don’t even remember doing
it,” he admitted “Mum. I need your help.”

“Yes you do.” She looked at
him then and saw that the strain of keeping this secret had taken its toll on
him “You are too young to be a parent.”

“I know but it’s going to
happen, there’s nothing I can do about it and I don’t want to be one of those
guys who doesn’t take responsibility for his actions.”

“What were you thinking when
you went with her?”

“Like I told you before, she
was hot and she made it a challenge, clearly I wasn’t thinking with my head.”
He admitted the hint of a smile on her lips wasn’t lost on him.

“You told me you loved her.”

“I do,” he pushed his fingers
into his hair, a gesture she loved and she felt her heart begin to melt “It’s
difficult being apart from her and we have been arguing a lot,” he took a deep
pull on his cigarette, blew out the smoke then stubbed it out “I have to talk
to her face to face at some point.”

“So do
I
.”
Monica told him, holding up her hand to quiet his protests “Paul, if you want
my help, I will have to talk to her, especially if you are set on being a
father to this child, we will need to arrange visits, maintenance etc
etc
.”

“I intend moving up there
after
its
born.”

“Absolutely
not!
I forbid it and you are not
to argue with me on this. Believe it or not Paul, I do know what’s best for you
and if you are prepared to listen and work with me on this, I will help you as
much as is humanly possible. First things first, you pack your things, you are
coming home.”

“Do you think that’s a good
idea as I have clearly visible bruises?” He asked,

“I want you home. Your father
and I will discuss it when you are there but I warn you Paul, if you do
anything to provoke him, you will receive a far harsher punishment than any you
have had so far.”

“I don’t want him to have
anything to do with this.” Paul put his foot down.

“He knows of course but I will
ask him to leave it to me to sort out.” She confirmed. “You should have come to
me sooner.”

“I know, I wanted so badly to
tell you when I realised I had actual feelings for her but it’s so difficult to
tell your parent that you are banging your school teacher, are madly in love
with her oh, and have possibly got her pregnant.” He sighed “Where do we go
from here?” He asked.

“From now on, you need to
tell me everything and it needs to be the complete truth. I’m so angry with you
right now, you know you can trust me but you chose to keep it to yourself, I am
very disappointed in you.”