It was late Friday evening when Brock called me from the Indianapolis airport. His commuter flight from Chicago had just landed and he was making his way through baggage claim. He was quite excited at hearing I was coming to his home Saturday for the cook-out and to meet his twin girls, Casey and Cassandra. We chatted for almost a half hour before concluding our conversation.
Saturday morning, I awoke after a restful night's sleep. All I could think of was meeting Brock's kids and hoping I'd make a good impression. I'd chosen my wardrobe carefully, wanting to look nice for them without being overdressed. On the other hand, I didn't want to look too casual either. Dark dress slacks and a print blouse with minimal make-up and jewelry seemed most appropriate. Black high-heels, which I almost always wore, complimented my attire.
Driving east on the interstate towards Greenfield, I kept running the do's and don'ts through my mind. My hands were perspiring the closer I got to my exit. Finding Brocks home, north of the community, wasn't a problem. Barbara's directions had been very clear.
Brock came running out as soon as I pulled into the driveway at his ranch style house. He was at my car door within seconds, waiting anxiously for me. Glancing at the front door, I saw two little girls, standing side by side, peering out at me. Brock pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against him. We kissed but only briefly. It helped settle my nerves.
"You look fantastic!" Brock complimented. "Did you dress for me or for the kids?"
"For the kids, of course." I responded as the two of us walked towards the house. "I wanted to look especially nice for them."
The girls, dressed in striped t-shirts and fresh bib overalls, stood nervously by while Brock introduced me to his sister, Barbara. Wearing maternity clothes, she looked about seven months pregnant. She was younger than Brock, guessing her age at around twenty-three. Barbara was very personable, smiling pleasantly and thanking me for coming.
I shook hands with the girls, who seemed quite shy. They had their father's looks, the same dark hair and the same bright blue eyes. I was at a loss for words, forgetting what I'd rehearsed to say. It was awkward but only for a moment.
"Where's your motorcycle?" Casey inquired, looking a little disappointed that I'd driven my Mercedes.
"Well, I thought I'd drive my car this time." I replied. "I promise I'll ride one out the next time."
"Is it a Harley?" Cassandra asked, hoping for a positive answer.
"Yes. One of them is." I answered with a grin.
The girls rattled off motorcycle questions faster than I could answer them. I didn't mind, thankful they were keeping the conversation ongoing. Taking me by the hand they wanted to show me their bedroom, which they shared. It was all typical kids stuff, something I'd missed when I was their age. Brock finally interrupted their continuing barrage of questions and comments, ushering them outside to their swingset.
"That went really good!" Barbara declared. "They took right up with you!"
"I was worried they wouldn't." I asserted with a sigh of relief. "I haven't been around children all that much."
"Just be yourself." Brock suggested, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me close. "You'll do fine."
The three of us stepped out onto the patio, sitting down where we could watch the girls playing. Sipping soft drinks, I noted an extra big smile on Brock's face, like he was hiding something.
"How was your trip to Chicago?" I asked, thinking his extreme happiness might have something to do with his trip.
"It was great!" Brock replied, clasping my hand. "I've been offered a promotion!"
"Really! That's wonderful!" I exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "What're you gonna be doing?"
"Barton Pharmaceuticals wants to open a branch office in Indianapolis." He responded. "They've asked me to head it up."
"It's more money and I won't have to be driving all over the state." He added. "That'll give me more time to spend with the kids. I wanna buy a house right away, maybe a new one that's never been lived in. I'm so fed up with renting."
I was happy for Brock, feeling he was getting the recognition he deserved. He talked about the details of the meetings he'd attended the previous day, recanting conversations with the firm's upper management.
With the twins joining us, we changed the conversation to talking about school. The girls told me all about their teacher, their classmates and the goings-on at school. As the afternoon progressed, the girls went back to playing while Brock fired up the grille.
Barbara and I prepared food in the kitchen, which gave us a chance to talk in private. Brock's sister didn't pull any punches, filling me in on Karen. I was surprised to learn their marriage wasn't all that Brock had said it was. Evidently, Karen's priorities were money-based and Brock wasn't making the kind of money she felt she deserved. Barbara commented about Brock being quite lonely since his wife's death but he concealed it whenever the girls were around.
Learning some of the dark secrets about Brock and his wife, I remembered certain things that happened or were said that I thought odd at the time. He always held me tight, like I was going to get away. He massaged me during sex, prolonging our shared pleasures and some things we did seemed new to him. Hearing Barbara's comments, things were falling into place.
With the food prepared, we sat outside at the picnic table. The steaks were fantastic, cooked to perfection but I think the girls would just as soon have had hotdogs or hamburgers. The gobbled up the French fries and vegetables, barely touching anything else.
"How far along are you?" I asked Barbara.
"Seven and a half months." She replied. "Seven and a half long months."
"Raymond will be home on leave just about the time Barb's ready to have it." Brock stated. "He wants to be in the delivery room when she goes into labor."
"You got any kids?" Cassandra asked, stuffing her mouth with French fries.
"No, I'm afraid not." I answered, hoping she wouldn't push the issue.
"Why not?" She inquired.
"Hon, you shouldn't ask those kind of questions." Brock interrupted before I could answer.
"It's alright. I don't mind answering." I assured Brock.
"I don't have any children because my husband didn't want any." I stated.
She bought my answer, not asking anymore questions. I was surprised at how easy it was to deal with Brock's children. If they asked a question, I'd just give them a straight answer. Beating around the bush or evading a question would just make them that much more inquisitive.
