Brian and Christine
The Silverstone jet pulled into its special hanger at 9:05 p.m. Brian got off with his two pieces of luggage and saw a limo waiting; the driver was standing by the rear door.
“Mr. Sims?” he said as Brian approached.
The driver opened the door for him. Brian got in with his bags and the driver closed the door, went around to the driver’s side and got in.
Meanwhile Brian looked at the driver’s license and chauffeur’s name and number. His name was Al Ochs.
Brian leaned over, gave his address and said “Mr. Ochs, it’s my daughter’s 11th birthday today and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Yes, sir” said Al, flipped the car into gear and took off.
The limo went like a big black bullet through the traffic and along the freeway. They reached Brian’s house at 9:55. Brian reached over and slapped a $50 bill into Al’s hand, got out of the limo with his two bags and closed the door.
When he entered the house the lights were off in the living room. He put his suitcase down and took the box with Christy’s present into the library, opened the box and put the present on the floor, then came out closing the library door.
Wendy came out of the bedroom still dressed. They kissed. “I’m so glad you made it. Christy was so unhappy that you weren’t here.”
“Well it was a close call but here I am.”
“How was the trip?”
“Very interesting. Myron promoted me to director. I’m going to be famous.”
“That’s fine with me. Congratulations Three Toes.”
“Is she still awake, I hope?”
“I think so. She’s probably watching her TV or playing with her new computer. She’s absolutely delighted with everything. I’ll go knock.” Wendy started down towards Christy’s room, then stopped and turned. “By the way. We went to court yesterday, all the documents from the Connecticut courts have been withdrawn. The judge took one look at Christy and nodded. The adoption has gone through. She’s legally our daughter now.”
Wendy went to Christy’s door and knocked. “Christy?”
“Yes?” came a voice from inside.
The door opened wide and Christy came funning down the hall. She threw her arms around him in a big hug.
“Oh Brian, I’m so glad you’re here I was afraid you weren’t coming. It’s my birthday.”
“We saved you a piece of cake.”
“Good, I’m glad. I brought you something.”
“A present. For your birthday.”
“What is it?”
“It’s in the next room.” She started for the library. “No” he said. “Sit down, I’ll get it.”
He went back into the library and then came out, leaving the door open.
Christy frowned and said “Where is it?”
Just at that moment and orange colored, furry face with white whiskers appeared at the door peering into the room.
Christy gasped, jumped up and shouted “FLICKER!” She ran over and scooped up Flicker in her arms. “Flicker. Oh, Flicker.” She held Flicker up to her cheek. Flicker rubbed her face on Christy’s cheek, stretched out her paws, relaxed and started purring.
“Oh, I’m so happy. Dad, thank you. Thank you, Mom. This is the best birthday I ever had in my whole life!”
Of Book Three
It’s 27 years later, Christy, is now known as C. Flynn, successful New York painter, sculptor and graphic designer and in private life is known as Christine Flynn-Hunter, married to John Hunter, architect and builder, eldest son of Nathan MooseHunter and his wife, Maiona, of the Navajo Reservation in Colorado. John and Christy have two children, both boys.
She was visiting Los Angeles to attend the opening of an exhibit of her works. She was walking down Hollywood Boulevard on her way to a meeting when she looked down and saw, embedded in the sidewalk, a bronze star, with the figure of a movie camera and the name BRIAN SIMS. She quietly asked “Did we make it, Dad?” and a silent answer whispered in her mind “We made it.”
She smiled, stepped carefully around it and walked on.