Author's Note:
This story was inspired by a set of short stories I read. What if a man is Shanghaied by his ex-wife and her new husband to get her pregnant? What if the man in question is blind to everything else because of how his marriage ended? It was fun to explore the 'what if' and make it a standalone story.
Some may not think of this as a loving wife scenario, and you are correct. Yet in a subtle way it is. I chose to post it as erotic couplings, but it is not that either. In a way, this is a continuation of a theme I've stumbled on. We all think of 'coming of age' to happen in our teens and maybe as late as early twenties. I do not think that is true. I think at particular times in our lives we make that leap forward. This, to me, is a 'coming of age' for Tim.
Please, tell me what you think.
Thanks for reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.
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Isabel called me out of the blue today. I was still on the phone with her.
"Tim, did you hear me?"
"Um. Yeah. What's this all about Izzie?" She hated my pet name for her.
"Don't call me that, asshole!" It was a two-step dance we both knew well.
"Okay, well, I have to go then." I took the phone away from my ear and heard her shouting.
"Stop, stop. Tim, stop being an ass, we really need your help." Isabel sounded desperate and that was unusual for a highly paid lawyer.
"What do you want, Izzie?" I did not yield my ground.
"Fine, you can call me Izzie, just promise you'll come over for dinner with Rob and me."
I looked at the phone. This was not my week with the kids, but she did not mention them.
"Izzie, should I bring wine?" It was a test. If it was something truly important the answer would be yes.
"Er. Yeah, I think that might be a very good idea. How about we make it two or three bottles?"
We agreed and I shut off the phone. No more disruptions. I had promised to finish this job today, and I had lost at least half an hour on the conversation.
The framing was going nicely, so I focused on getting the few inside walls of the cabin we were building. The large openings made it easy to do the inside and the log construction made the outside a breeze. It was labor-intensive, but it was like building with Lincoln Logs. Follow the pattern, and with the right equipment the walls went up quickly.
I kept thinking about our sixteen-year marriage and how it ended. She was a big-time lawyer and I was a lowly carpenter. One of the most successful in my hometown. Franklin Tennessee, a few miles south of Nashville. It was still not high class enough for the lofty dreams of Isabel Andrews nee Gonzales. She had the dream of owning her law firm. When it was obvious that would not happen, she moved on to being a Partner at her firm. Six pregnancies kept her very busy. She loved being pregnant. Unfortunately, only three carried to term. Her heart was broken and so was mine. Each time we swore we would not try again, but soon we were trying again.
All the thoughts of Izzie screwed with my concentration, and the hammer had no mercy on my thumb. It missed most of the nail, pushed my finger down, and split my fingernail.
"Fuck! Fuck!!! Fuck." I shouted with the vim and vigor you knew I held inside, but seldom got to see.
"Tim! Hell, let me see that." One of the crew rushed over and in a few seconds, I had an entire group around me. The blood was pouring out of my thumb and we had a mess to clean up.
"That's what I get for thinking of Izzie!" I cursed into the room at no one in particular.
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Two high-powered attorneys with three kids in the house tend to have a schedule. It is a necessity if you want to keep your mind. Dinner was at seven and I was there promptly at six forty-five. Three bottles of wine in hand.
The kids rushed over, and we all hugged, said our hello's, and I was informed that the three of them were going to a friend's house for the night.
My oldest looked at me and said, "Adult conversation, so we are banished from the realm, Dad." She kissed me and headed off with her two brothers.
Izzie stood on the archway to the formal dining room. She wore a dark pinstriped suit, elegant and comfortable. It offered a variety of cleavage possibilities. Since the kids were gone, I noticed she had the jacket opened for maximum effect.
"Did you bring the wine? Not the cheap shit you used to get me, right?" Her eyes locked on mine. This was another of the two-step dances we did.
"I got the best wine Piggly Wiggly had by the door." I gave her three bottles of Pinot Noir, my favorite.
Robert came in, he wore jeans and a button-down shirt. He looked professionally casual. That was par for the course since he worked as a tax attorney and spent most of his time in his office away from clients. Robert was the second tax attorney at the firm. Way back when there were four employees and two partners - included in the count. He was the fifth to join the company. In a suburb of Nashville. They started small but worked up and now they had an entire floor in the law center of Nashville. Not bad for a c-average student that managed to pass the bar exam by the skin of his teeth. Robert is not a test taker, he's a brilliant tax litigator.
I shook Rob's hand, and we went into the dining room. Izzie swept her hand over the table and told us to sit. Rob and I, the obedient lot we are, took our seats.
The conversation throughout the meal was a bit odd. They had something to say, and it was obvious they were not ready.
"Izzie, Rob, come on. What the fuck is so difficult for you two to tell me?" I looked at Rob, he lowered his eyes to his plate. It was empty. Had been for a bit. I turned to Isabel and she held my eyes. She was strong, but I could tell she was in doubt.
"It's a silly thing. Really. I'm not sure it's worth discussing." Izzie lied.
I could tell when she lied. Her dark eyes danced more than usual.
I stood up, took my plate, and put it on the sink. I grabbed my glass and topped it off with wine and sat down in the living room.
"What the fuck?" I could hear Izzie murmur to her husband.
"He's not stupid Isabel, you might as well tell him." Rob stood, left the plate on the table, but brought the wine and his glass."
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