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## Unexpected

by phair

Chapter 9

Sam sat in his truck staring at the clock on the dashboard. His belly was in knots as he waited for the exact minute he should exit the vehicle to walk up the stone path between two perfectly manicured patches of green grass and ring the doorbell to his father's home. It was once a daily occurrence to feel this anxious. His chronic symptom ended when he graduated from college. It was at his somber graduation dinner, with his father, step mother, and sister in the fine dining area of his father's exclusive Country Club, a long sought remedy for Sam's anxiety was finally provided.

His father stated Sam's success in obtaining a degree was expected. It was time to look to the future. The cornerstone of looking forward was self reliance. Sam would succeed in the world or he would fail but he would do so on his own. His father requested Sam's key to the family home be returned immediately. All of Sam's belongings were already packed and with a moving company. Once Sam found a place to live, he was to call the movers and schedule a date for delivery. Sam would also need to pay them for their service and for the storage fee.

Sam was actually relieved by his father's actions that day. It saved him the awkward moment of asking permission to move out. Even without an apartment or credit, Sam was grateful to be sent packing. Sleeping on a park bench would be easier to endure than returning to his father's home and the overpowering control of that came with the room and board. But, Sam didn't sleep on a park bench that night or any night after that. Sam had friends and was resourceful enough to build his life without his father's money or help or love.

There was only one thing that could get Sam to knock at his father's door again; Coyote's desperate circumstance. Sam cared enough about Coyote to beg for money to pay her lawyer. It caught Sam off guard to feel affection bordering on commitment to a woman he had just met.

It was not the mad, sexual love of a couple. It was a stronger than physical actions or attraction. It was rooted in the commonality of their blood. It flourished with Coyote's willingness to help Sam fix his floundering love life. The woman cared about what happened to Sam and that was more concern than his father had ever shown him.

In the short amount of time since Sam's reunion with his grandfather and introduction to another branch of his family tree, Sam felt part of something larger than himself. It was a feeling he'd only experienced when his mother was alive. Sam would do anything to protect this fledgling relationship. Even if it meant talking to his father again, Sam would do whatever it took to help Coyote.

The digital clock changed to 6:53 am. Sam popped the truck's door open and climbed out. He gently shut the door, straightened his tie, and walked the path he knew and dreaded so well. He did not stop his momentum until confronted with the dark wood of the heavy double doors sealing the entrance off from the world. It was required to use the knocker. The bell would not be tolerated.

Sam straighten his black tie once more after the standard four bangs of the knocker were executed. He struggled to keep his hands by his sides; not in the pockets of his black, wool suit jacket or brushing back his freshly trimmed and neatly gelled, brown hair. Fidgeting was not allowed. When the latch of the door clicked, Sam took a deep calming breath.

As the door was pulled open, a familiar feeling swept over Sam. It was just like being twelve again. Black suit, starched stiff white shirt, perfectly knotted Windsor tie, high polished black wing tipped shoes; it was completely suffocating to be home.

“Mr. Allerton, your father is in the dining room,” Edward said with no change in facial expression.

“Thank you,” Sam answered.

It was all he needed to say. Fraternizing with the help was not appropriate. Even though, Sam had known Edward for twenty years but had not laid eyes on him in more than ten, convention could not be set aside for sentimentality.

Sam walked the cold marble floors to the main dining room. The sliding double doors were open but Sam knew better than to just walk into his father's domain. Sam stopped his progress at the dead center of the door way and waited to be acknowledged.

His father was sitting alone at the head of the table finishing the last of his cold cereal. The orange juice glass was still half full. Sam felt a thin line of sweat trickle down his back as he realized his timing was off. He was exactly three minutes early. His father sighed in a manner that conveyed both annoyance and disappointment.

“Edward,” his father's voice was as deep as Sam remembered it. “My appointment is early. Clear the table.”

Edward entered with his well used serving cart. He removed the only items on the table; a bowl, spoon, and glass. Then he wheeled the cart back to the kitchen. A few moments of silence passed before he returned. Stepping next to Sam's father, he waited further directions.

“See him in,” Sam's father said.

Edward walked the six feet across the room to say, “Please follow me, sir.”

Sam silently complied. He was lead to a chair on is father's immediate right. It was pulled out by Edward and Sam sat.

“That will be all, Edward,” Sam's father dismissed the man.

Both Sam and his father sat in silence while Edward left the room. Sam kept his hands folded in his lap while he waited permission to speak. He father turned to look at him directly for the first time in over five years.

“Your appointment was 7 o'clock. Not 6:57. I have long suspected your lack of respect for my home and privacy. However, have your manners slipped so much you are incapable of displaying any common courtesy at all?”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Sam knew he was starting off badly and it made his uphill battle even more difficult. “I meant no disrespect.”

His father gave a weary sigh. “As always, your actions speak louder than your words. I suppose I should just let you tell me the dire emergency you needed to see me about. Although, I may be able save some time with the seedy details. I read this morning's newspaper. I know all about the bastard you've sired.”

Sam did not mean to but he gasped. He did not see the paper before he left his apartment. He did not know his private life was fodder for the gossip hounds. He was so busy getting ready to meet with his father to beg a favor, he missed seeing the beginning of the end of his political career in the bold type of morning's headlines.

Everything he worked to build was erupting in the flames of a scandal. He missed the exact moment his life was ruined because he was preparing to see his father. The thought that some things never change crept into Sam's mind. It made him smile just a bit.

“Why are you smirking?” His father was disgusted.

“I'm sorry, I was not smirking at you. It's me.” Sam clarified has answer, “Apparently, the newspapers scooped even me with my own news.”

His father frowned. He was very unhappy with the explanation. “I do not have all day to waste on you. If this is what you have come to tell me then your work is done. Are we finished?”

“No,” Sam panicked and blurted. “I mean, no, sir. I still want to speak with you.”

“Get on with it then.”

“Obviously, I'm in trouble,” Sam said but did not elaborate the exact nature of the trouble was Coyote's legal issue and not Rachael's pregnancy. “He thinks he knows it all, why correct him,” Sam kept that thought to himself.

“You,” his father pointed his index finger at Sam, “are the king of understatement.”

Sam swallowed hard but it was not a cry of despair he forced down. Instead, he was holding back a chuckle at his pompous father.

“I'm sorry, sir. We both know I'm here because I have not conducted myself in a manner you approve of,” Sam was in his element spewing truthiness. “It is entirely wrong of me to ask you to provide financial assistance to help me out of a mess of my own making. Yet, it is exactly why I'm here. I've come to ask for a loan for eleven thousand, three hundred and ninety seven dollars.”

His father's face was grim as he replied, “Abortions are much more expensive these days than when I was a randy lad.”

Sam was stunned by the statement. When no additional details followed, Sam continued, “No, Rachael is not having an abortion. We are going to have the baby.”

“Marriage? You?” His father guffawed.

“No,” Sam's voice cracked with a bit of his grief at the truth to follow. “Rachael isn't ready to marry me. We're going to work on our relationship first. She doesn't want to jump from one unplanned event to another.”

“Figures she wouldn't have you underfoot.” His father seemed struck by a sudden thought, “Did you get a DNA test? Make certain this is your fault before you give her a dime!”

Sam held back his desire to argue. It was easier to do when he conjured up visions of Coyote in an orange jumpsuit before the a stern judge with some fresh out of law school public defender standing next to her.

“I'll do what's right, sir. No worries, so help me, I'll do what is in my best interest,” Sam said but did not explain that Rachael and the baby were in his best interest.

“Well, then,” his father actually smiled. “You seem to finally show some sense. As long at the money is going toward protecting the family name and you sign a promissory note to repay the debt, I'll be amenable to loan you ten thousand dollars. The interest rate will be eight percent.”

Sam figured negotiations would be forthcoming and prepared for them last night. “A generous amount. However, it will not cover the full cost of repairing my misadventure.” A small lie but worth it. “I've already depleted all my funds with the down payment. If you could see your way clear to eleven thousand, three hundred and ninety eight dollars, I'd be more than willing to agree to twelve percent interest.”

His father smiled in that broad full mouth grin signaling he won whatever he had set out to win. “Sounds fair. Stay here. I'll go draw up a promissory note and get a check.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sam was sincere in his reply. He thought his father would boost the rate to fifteen percent.

“I got a real deal,” Sam thought as he watched his father walk out of the room.

* * *

“How's my best, big girl today?” Sam bellowed as he entered Coyote's hospital room.

She looked remarkably better sitting up in a wheelchair in spite of the faded blue hospital gown. The oxygen was out of her nose. Instead of a big white bandage over her eye, she was sporting a black pirate like patch. The edges of the patch blended with the vivid purple of the bruise encircling the area around Coyote's eye from mid forehead to mid cheek. She glared with her good eye at the intrusion.

“You are toying with suicide by teasing me, dude,” Coyote replied with a slight slush to her pronunciation.

Sam stayed in the doorway holding the door open with his back and cautioned her, “Little Missy Nightmoon better behave or she won't get her very special treat.”

“Fuck off!”

“That ain't no kind of way to talk to family,” Old Thom admonished her as he rounded the corner and entered the room.

“Gramp?” Coyote started to cry when she saw the man hobbling over to her.

“Lookie at you, a fancy chair and everything. Damn Medicare says I'm not sick enough for wheels. Hey, maybe we could take that one when they spring you from it,” Gramp teased before leaning down to wrap her in a tentative hug.

Coyote gave a little sob as she held onto him.

“It's okay, girlie girl. I got you now. Nobody gonna mess with you unless they want my cane up their ass,” Gramp's voice was strong and free of worry.

“Good luck with that plan,” Coyote answered and slowly let go of the man. “I'm probably gonna catch some time for all this shit.”

Sam hurried over to her. “Didn't Grover come by or send one of his minions over or at least call you?”

“Nope,” Coyote answered flatly. “He probably heard I don't got no cash to pay him and walked away.”

“He got paid. He also cleared everything up. No charges, no court date, no jail, nothing. You only have to get better and then come home,” Sam explained.

“Seriously?” Coyote asked unable to hide her shock.

“He's my daughter's boy, he don't lie unless he's at work,” Gramp said seriously.

“No fuckin' way,'' Coyote exclaimed. Her joy faded to fear fast, “Wait, Sammy, where did you get that kind of money? How much do I owe you?”

“A benefactor was more than happy to help our common cause,” Sam lied.

Coyote was too overwhelmed to question the story. “Dude, as long as it takes, I'll pay you back. I promise. Just tell me how much. I'll give you money weekly. Hell, I give you half my take home pay everyday.”

Sam shook his head no and said, “Coyote, I need you to focus on healing up. We can work on the money and details after you get well.” Sam paused to check his emotions. “You've got some recovery time ahead of you still.”

“I know,” Coyote managed a half smile. “But, it'll be a lot easier healing on the couch than in a cell. I don't think I could take jail again.”

Sam was surprised to see some of his cousin's usual confidence wilt. He didn't like it one bit either. Forcing a smile, he tried to lighten her mood.

“Okay, you are getting out of here tomorrow. I'll come by to pick you up and drive you to Gramp's.”

Coyote quietly disagreed, “I don't think I can climb up in the cab of your truck, Sam.”

Sam actually had not considered this obstacle but acted as if it was already planned for as he replied, “Of course, you can't. You got stabbed, kid. I'm gonna borrow Rachael's car. It's a four door sedan. Do you think you can risk your reputation being seen in a Ford?”

“Reps in tatters, dude. You could pick me up in a minivan and it won't make any difference to the chicks at the bar.” Coyote grimaced, “I don't think I'll be going out much at night anyway.”

Sam was not surprised by Coyote's resignation. He had been worried about her state of mind all morning. Being attacked was a bad blow to Coyote's ego. But, not being able to defend Heather had potential for long lasting emotional damage.

“One step at a time, okay?” Sam tried to draw her thoughts back to her immediate problems. “First you stabilize here, then we get you home with rehab, and after you are stronger we'll work on your social life.”

His words had the desired effect. Coyote chuckled at the thought of him helping her love life. Gramp dabbed his eyes at the happy sound. And, Sam knew both of them were very proud of him.

“It has been way too long since I did something this right,” Sam thought to himself.

* * *

It had been a difficult couple of days with Coyote in the hospital. Gramp was doing his best to be stoic but Sam knew the old man was close to exhaustion. Sam's preference was to pick Coyote up alone but Gramp was insistent on bringing the woman home with Sam. The morning was grueling waiting for the doctor's final visit, discharge instructions from a frazzled nurse, and paperwork to be signed. Sam's head was spinning. He could only imagine how his grandfather was feeling. But, the old man remained pleasant and helpful during each step of the process.

Coyote looked terrible. She was a deathly shade of gray beneath her bruises. Walking from her bed to the wheelchair and then getting into the car, wiped her out. She was dozing in the front seat next to Sam for the whole ride home.

As Sam pulled into the driveway, Gramp leaned forward from the back seat and placed his hand on Coyote's shoulder. The woman snapped awake with a shout. If her seatbelt wasn't fastened, Sam was certain she would have leapt through the windshield.

“Easy, girl. We're here, is all. And, it looks like some elves have been hard as work while we was gone,” Gramp said but didn't sound entirely happy with the decorations around his dilapidated home.

Balloons were tied to his rickety fence and mailbox. His front door was plastered with a festive welcome sign. As soon as Sam got out of the car, the smell of the food cooking in the little house made his mouth water. He hurried over to the passenger side of Rachael's car to help Gramp out first and then Coyote.

“We got a shit load of bags, dude. Hand me one to carry,” Coyote said as she stood on shaky legs.

Gramp laughed at her. “It'll be all you and me can do to get inside without falling down. Forget your butch act and start hobbling to the door. Last one in has to wait to use the can.”

Coyote was going to argue but Sam interrupted her with an important reminder, “He's worried about you. He's been worried about you since before you were born. He loves you. Please, just follow him in the house so he relax a bit.”

“What idiot told you that line of crap?” Coyote spoke with a grin.

“Some biker baby with big titties and a juicy ass,” Sam baited her and stepped just out of reach.

She growled playfully but there was something sounding like a promise in her words, “Oh man, when I'm better I'm gonna kick your Nazi ass up and down the beach front.”

“Ooooo, I love it when you talk all sexy like that,” Sam winked as he teased her.

The pair continued to taunt each other as they made slow progress toward the front door. Coyote's cheeks flushed with the effort. Sam moved closer and offered an arm.

“You tell anybody about this,” Coyote took the help offered and made a solemn vow, “and I will strip the gears on your truck and cut the brake line.”

“Well, if you think helping out a lezzy biker is doing any good for my resume, we better go back to the hospital because you need your head examined.”

The silly exchange gave Coyote something to focus on during those last few steps. Her body was shaking so hard when they crossed the threshold, Sam had to hold her with both hands. He guided her to the couch and gently lowered her. She moaned as she settled back.

“Where's my couch?” Coyote asked.

“You're sitting on it,” Sam was surprised by the question and worried about an undiagnosed head injury. “It's right under your ass.”

“No, it's different,” Coyote said. “The springs ain't poking me.”

Heather stepped into the room from the kitchen to confess. “I'm sorry. I should have asked before I messed around with your stuff. But, the sofa wasn't going to be soft enough for you, Coyote. I got some foam pieces to pad the cushions. The slip cover will come right off so you can take them out if you don't like it.”

Gramp, Sam, and Coyote stared at Heather without saying a word. It was the single most awkward moment of her life.

“Well, say something,” Heather finally spoke.

“Thank you.” Gramp said before asking, “Who are you?”

“My assistant,” Sam said.

“My date,” Coyote claimed.

Both Sam and Coyote answered at the same time. Gramp flashed a smile so big his dentures slipped. “Miss Heather, isn't it?”

“Yes,” she took his extended hand and blushed when he brought it to his lips for a sweet kiss.

“You really are hot, young lady.”

“Gramp!” Both Sam and Coyote shouted.

Gramp laughed and gave a wink. “I do that just to piss them off.”

“Well, don't stop on my account,” Heather said with a laugh.

“I thought you were going to stay at Rachael's,” Sam interrupted.

“She is with Rachael,” the shout came from the kitchen but it wasn't Rachael's voice.

“Awe, shit!” Coyote cursed. “I'm so fucked right now I wish I that guy with the knife had better aim.”

“Don't say that! Don't even joke like that!” Heather was near tears instantly. “It's not funny. You almost died.”

“Hey, easy,” Sam hurried over to Heather and hugged her. “It's okay. Everybody is okay. And, we're gonna stay okay. I promise, Heather. It's gonna be fine.”

Heather was crying hard against Sam's shoulder when Karla entered the room. She rolled her eyes at the scene.

“Republicans are always making strong women weep. What tools!”

Coyote cringed at the sight of Karla. If she had any strength at all she would have crawled under the couch. Karla enjoyed the injured woman's squirming for a few minutes before letting her down gently.

“I'm so over you, it's like I never met you. You and Heather can give it a shot with my blessings. But, I got to warn you, Heather, Coyote is so vanilla in bed you'd think she was straight.” Karla turned to Sam and gave a small smile. “Dinner's gonna be ready in fifteen minutes. If Rachael doesn't eat in sixteen minutes she'll be heaving.”

“Check,” Sam said understanding Rachael's morning sickness was rearing it's ugly head. “Thanks for all the help today, Karla. You're a lifesaver.”

“Maybe I did get hit in the head?” Coyote was complete stunned by the exchanges around her.

Gramp laughed lightly. “I'm gonna sit in my favorite chair. Did you do anything to that, Miss Heather?”

“No, sir,” Heather was sniffling her tears to a halt.

“Too bad. There's a spring dead center the catches my balls.”

Sam made a hideous face which made Coyote laugh. The laughter turned quickly to a groan. Heather abandoned Sam's hug to get to Coyote's side.

“Do you need something for pain? Should you put your feet up? What hurts?” Heather fired off the questions as she took Coyote's hand in her own and brought them both to rest over her heart.

“Nothing hurts now,” Coyote whispered. “I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better. I tried but I couldn't hold that guy back.”

Heather caught the tear on Coyote's cheek with her lips. She nestled close to the woman but didn't lean into her. Coyote tugged their joined hands to her own heart bringing Heather as close as she could.

“You saved me,” Heather hushed. “I know what they were going to do to me. You stopped it. You almost died doing it but you stopped it. I can never thank you enough for that.”

Coyote sighed enjoying the contact. She looked over at Sam and saw a frown forming. Rachael walked in just as Coyote questioned what was bothering her cousin.

“Dude, what's the matter with you?”

Sam felt Rachael's hand on his back. He knew she was there to help him with this part of the homecoming. He told her he could do it on his own but she showed up anyway to help.

“It's okay, Sam. Just tell them,” Rachael encouraged.

“What?” Gramp sat forward unable to hide his fear.

Sam took Rachael's hand to support his resolve to tell the whole truth and not nearly the truth. “Politicians are whores.”

“Wow, that's some news flash,” Karla deadpanned.

“In politics, if you want something then you give something. It has to be equal goods or it just won't fly. It doesn't matter about right or wrong or justice.” Sam looked at Heather and his cousin and felt ashamed. “It is never fair.”

“What isn't fair, Sammy?” Coyote asked and her usual glare was focused even with only one eye working.

“Grover got your charges dismissed but there's a price,” Sam swallowed back the bile trying to rise in his throat. “All the charges had to get dismissed. All the charges against everybody.”

“Fuck that!” Heather was on her feet shouting. “Those sons of bitches were going to rape me. They damn near killed Coyote! And, you're just gonna let them walk away to do it again? Fuck you, Sam!”

Rachael squeezed Sam's hand. She didn't need to speak. He knew she had his back. It gave him courage to continue. But, support came for an unexpected corner of the room.

“Heather,” Karla voice lacked it's usual shrill quality. “you have to decide what it most important here.”

“I should think sending fucking rapist, skin head, bastards to jail would be important, lady!” Heather was seething.

“Hey, come on and sit with me,” Coyote said as she captured the sleeve of Heather's blouse and tugged. “I want you next to me. I think for right now, that is the most important thing for me.”

Heather looked back at Coyote. The pain and exhaustion of the entire day was evident in every crease of Coyote's face. She was shivering even though the room was warm. Heather retook her seat and settle back next to Coyote. But, she was obviously angry.

“It sucks,” Sam stated. “I wish there was another way to get Coyote clear of prosecution but Grover pushed as much as he dared. Those guys are connected. I just don't have that kind of pull. I'm sorry.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Gramp cleared his throat to speak but Coyote got a jump on him.

“Why are you sorry, Sammy?” She waited for him to look at her but she didn't give him a chance to answer. “You spent money you don't have to pay a one of the best lawyers in the state to get me out of trouble.”

“But, you didn't do anything wrong, Coyote,” Heather argued.

Coyote gave a lopsided smile. “Sammy didn't do anything wrong either. He did his best to help us, Heather. Those cops were ready to slap cuffs on you that night too. The only reason both of us are free today is because of Sam. If he did what a savvy politician would do, we'd both be sitting in a cell at Framingham.”

Heather's anger fizzled. Her tears broke free. Coyote hugged her as best as she could manage, ignoring her pain.

“Look, I don't mean to be selfish here,” Rachael said. “But, if I don't eat, I'm gonna puke. So, Karla and I are going to dish up the food. The rest of you just stay where you are.”

“Nope,” Sam rejected the idea. “You've been on your feet too long. Let me and Karla get the food served.”

Karla stood and huffed in her typical annoyed manner. “Nobody asked me about wanting to help out.”

“No need to, Karla. You're a caring nurturer. We all know you want to help,” Sam said with the most sincere tone he'd ever feigned.

“You're so full of crap,” Karla couldn't hold back her laugh.

Rachael let Sam's hand go and he headed off to the kitchen. She took the seat Karla vacated moments before.

Coyote nodded to her and asked, “So, are you gonna make my cousin an honest man or what?”

Rachael readily replied, “Oh, he's already honest. I'm going to make him a happy man.”

“Thank you,” Gramp sighed and finally relaxed into his beat up chair.

* * *

Karla and Coyote kept passing each other as they paced the hospital waiting area. Heather and Gramp were doing their best to ignore them and focus on their card game.

“How can you two just sit there?” Coyote finally blurted out.

“We ain't just sitting. We're playing Hearts. Why not sit in for a hand or two?” Gramp invited the pair over with a wave.

“Honey,” Heather saw Coyote's temper flair. “Please come sit down. Pacing is not going to help.”

“Can't hurt,” Karla chimed in.

Gramp chuckled, “Can if I trip you.”

All conversation ended when the door to the waiting room pushed open. Sam entered with a ridiculous grin spread across his face and wearing scrubs, booties, and a surgical hairnet.

“Look at that shit eatin' grin,” Coyote said. “What's the word, Sammy?”

“A boy, twenty two inches, seven pounds even,” Sam could not stop smiling.

“How's Rachael?” Karla's worry overwhelmed her.

Sam walked over to Karla and hugged her. She made a squeaking noise as all the air raced out of her lungs. Sam wasn't satisfied with just the hug. He planted a huge kiss on her cheek.

“Ugh, do you have to do that? You know how much I hate you,” Karla tried to make it sound sincere.

“Rachael is perfect. The baby is perfect. The doctor said he's never had a delivery go so…,”

Everybody in the room filled in the last word, “Perfect.”

“Yep,” Sam let out a huge sigh of relief. “Okay, here's the plan.”

Coyote spoke up, “Wait, we need a plan? What for?”

“Let him tell us his plan,” Gramp said. “It'll make him feel all useful.”

“Don't let them tease you, Sam,” Heather gave him a wink. “You could out debate both of them in your sleep.”

Sam was still smiling. “Thank you, Heather. Nice to know somebody in the room believes in me. Okay, back to the plan. They have Rachael in a room already. Can you believe it? Man, it's like this is not big deal for these people.”

Gramp nodded seriously, “Yes, it has only taken a couple of million years to figure out delivering children safely and for the most amount of money an HMO with pay.”

Sam was unfazed by the comment. “Rachael wants to see everybody but they'll only let us have two at a time in the room. Karla, Rachael's anxious to see you. So, could you go in first?”

“Me? First?” Karla's eyes filled with tears. She threw herself bodily into Sam's arms and cried.

“It's okay, Karla. She's fine. She just needs her best friend,” Sam whispered in her ear.

Karla managed to regroup with his support. “I'll hurry so everybody gets their chance.”

“It's really okay, Karla,” Sam reassured her.

Once she left the room, Gramp chuckled. “Coyote, you really dodged a bullet with that one.”

Coyote blushed when Heather shot her nasty look. “Babe, it was all about getting Sammy and Rachael back together. You know I'm nuts about you. I barely even remember going out with Karla.”

“Sure you do,” Heather smirked. “Circus sex ring any bells?”

“Fuck me,” Coyote knew she was bagged.

“Apparently, Karla did,” Heather said.

“Stand back, Sammy. The honeymoon is over,” Gramp laughed so hard he coughed.

“Come on you two,” Sam couldn't resist teasing them. “Don't fight. Newlyweds are suppose to be all lovey dovey.”

“Very well said by the only one in the room whose never been married,” Coyote shot back as she played with her wedding band.

“Not for long,” Sam could not keep his secret any longer. “We're getting married next month.”

“Karla's gonna shit,” Coyote warned.

“Nope, she's getting a JP's license to officiate. She always wanted to marry Rachael and now she will,” Sam joked. “But, let's get back to the plan for a minute.”

“Can't keep a good plan down,” Gramp stated.

Sam was undeterred. “I was hoping for Coyote and I to go in together, if that's okay with you two. I really want to introduce her to her namesake.”

“What you talkin' ‘bout, Sammy?” Coyote sounded very nervous.

Sam slapped Coyote on the back and explained, “Rachael and I agreed our son should carry on my family's name. I know it sounds all sexist but Rachael actually insisted we name him, Coyote Thomas Allerton.”

“I like it,” Gramp said as he handed a tissue to Heather who had burst into tears.

“Sammy, I don't know what to say,” Coyote was shocked.

“Well, I do,” Sam said. “Thank you, Coyote. Thank you for fixing my life!”

The End

###

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