When You Least Expect It 1

Credit to whom credit is due. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a pre-post read. My editors are Norafares, Hal, Pixel the Cat, Girlinthemoon and GeorgeAnderson. If you have never had the joy of working with a good editor, they make life so easy for a writer. I am so grateful to mine. Love you all.

This story is some 14,000 words. If that is not something you enjoy, you should skip this one. If a father/daughter romance is not something you would enjoy, please read something else.

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It's a long way from Yakima, Washington, to Playa Langosta, Costa Rica. I still own property in Yakima through a shell company: two apartment buildings, seven rental houses and the house in which I used to live. I pay the taxes and collect the rent. There have been various attempts down through the years to seize the money I get from the rentals, or seize them and sell them, but I've always managed to avoid that. I owe a lot of alimony payments. I've never paid a single dime of them. I owned the properties before I was married so my ex-wife didn't get any part of them. They were an inheritance and the judge wouldn't touch them. I quickly sold them to my shell company after I left town. I had already taken all the money I thought I had coming to me out of our accounts before the divorce papers were final.

Of course, the judge ordered me to give her half, but since I made ten times what she did as a nurse and had even before we were married, I didn't figure she was entitled. I've never figured out how cheaters get rewarded in the American legal system. I knew three guys that were expats in Costa Rica, and when I joined them they showed me the ropes.

I could give you all the typical stories of betrayal and anger, but they're boring. They weren't boring to me at the time, but 23 years later, looking back on them, they're boring. I had known Alicia (I called her Cill) had quite a sexual history when we got married. I wasn't an innocent abroad, either, and it didn't matter to me. Five years later it mattered a lot when I went upstairs to visit the facilities at a backyard party and found her in a gang bang with four guys, neighbors, and supposed friends. I snapped a few pictures and left. She never even knew I was there.

I moved out that day and we got a divorce, end of story. I never spoke to her again. There was no way in hell I was going to pay the cheating slut one penny. I never heard from her again. She didn't know where I was, and although she periodically tried to collect on the money that stupid bastard of a judge gave her, I never went back and she never got her pound of flesh. I won't recount how we met in college and fell in love and all the emotional trauma we went through. Enough of that, I loved her; she didn't love me. I moved on and never looked back.

Twenty-three years in Costa Rica and I was accepted as a native. I looked like one, too. I felt good, in the best shape of my life and enjoying myself. I had a freight business, owned my favorite bar and a house that suited me. I'm six-three in my socks, weigh 240 pounds and none of it is slack belly. I have no hair these days, but I think a shaved head makes me look gangsta, anyway. Sometimes I need to look gangsta and be gangsta, too. Costa Rica can be a pretty rough place.

I mostly looked mean. I had a six-man team of tough guys who handled problems for me. All I had to do was look intimidating. I still thought I could take all six of my team at the same time. Maybe I was delusional. I believed I could still do most of the things I ever could. I wasn't quite as fast, but I was stronger than ever, as long as I didn't have to move my feet too fast. I won the light-heavyweight Division II wrestling championship my junior and senior years of college, and I'd improved those skills all down through the years.

It was raining and about ten-thirty at night when I left the bar. I stepped out onto the porch and they were waiting for me. There were three of them, and they were armed. They had nasty looking pistols and they didn't look friendly.

"You're making a mistake," I told them. "I'm not leaving this porch. Shoot me if you want to, but I'm not leaving. If you shoot me, you might kill me, but there are four guys inside who are going to kill you. They'll never stop, they'll never rest and neither will you. They have fifty thousand dollars' worth of incentives to find you and kill you."

"No one is going to kill you." I heard her voice. She was sitting in a chair under the porch and I couldn't see her. I liked her voice, though. It was low, husky and mellow. It also sounded young. "They are going to beat the shit out of you. When you recover, I'm going to find you and they're going to do it again. This is going to go on until you decide to run. Then, they're going to track you down and it's going to start again for the rest of your miserable life."

"Well, that does sound like fun," I said. "It's a nice fantasy, but what are you going to do about the AK that's pointed at the back of your head through that window?"

She looked in the window and Julio smiled his toothy smile. I'm sure the business end of the AK looked huge to her. "I guess you get off this time," she said. "I'll be back."

"No, I don't think you will," I said. Alex and Pablo stepped out from around the corners of the bar. The rain was streaming off them and they were carrying AKs, too. "Gentlemen, if you'll put up your weapons, I'll just sit down and talk to your employer, okay?"

They looked at her and she nodded. They put away the pistols and my boys lowered their weapons. I went and sat down in the chair next to her.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"Well, I guess we could start with the reason for your undying hatred," I suggested. "Then we could talk about what it is you want. Maybe we should start with introductions. I'm Benedict Carmichael."

"I know who you are," she said. I still couldn't get a good look at her. "My name is Buckley Carmichael."

That sent a shiver up my spine. "That was my paternal grandfather's name. Are we related?"

"You might say that," her voice was very bitter. "You were my sperm donor."

What the hell? "That's odd, because I don't recall donating any sperm," I told her.

"My mother was four weeks pregnant with me when you left her," she said. "You might remember her? Her name is Alicia; you know, the woman you abandoned, the woman you left broke and alone, the woman you were married to?"

This was some weird shit and I couldn't speak for a while. I just sat there and my mind was whirling and my body was numb. There had to be some sort of mistake.

"I don't know what you're trying to do or what misinformation you have, but you're either lying or mistaken," I told her

"There's no mistake and I'm not lying," she said. "Do you think I didn't check it out? Do you think I wouldn't have checked everything out before coming here? You're my biological father; you abandoned me and made my life hell. I'm going to pay you back for that." She spat out those words.

"Okay, I think we got off on the wrong foot here," I told her. "First, I didn't abandon you. If what you say is true, I never knew you existed. Second, I didn't 'abandon' your mother. I don't know what she told you, but she's the reason I left. It was what she did that destroyed our marriage, not what I did. Maybe you ought to get the real story from her before you make the rest of my life miserable by following me and beating the hell out of me. Look, kid, I'm sorry about your shitty life and everything, but none of it is my fault. Alicia never said one word to me about being pregnant, the baby being mine or that I had a kid."

"How could she?" she yelled. "She had no way to tell you anything! You disappeared off the face of the fucking earth! It took me a year and twenty thousand dollars to find you!"

I was shocked. This girl had quite a hard-on for me if she was willing to go to that much trouble. "I'm very sorry about that," I told her. "I never knew about you. If I had, I'd have done something about it. You've built me up to be some kind of monster in your mind, kid. I'm not that guy. Look, let's go inside. I'll buy you a sandwich and a beer and we'll talk, okay? We don't need these histrionics. Let's just have a normal conversation like normal people, okay?"

"Can my guys come in?" she asked.

"Sure, I'll let them drink on the house," I laughed. "You don't need protection, but if it makes you feel better, why not?"

I stood up and walked to the door. She got up and I noticed she was tall, probably close to six feet. The light hit her when I opened the door and I couldn't move. She was the most spectacularly gorgeous woman I'd ever seen. She had her mother's flame-red hair and creamy skin with those emerald green eyes that looked like they would glow in the dark like cat's eyes. There was a sprinkle of freckles across her cute little nose and her lips were full and just delicious looking. When she walked past me she was just poetry in motion. Her body was killer, too. She had wide hips and her ass was off the chain. Her breasts were large and it looked like she must have had surgery from the way they stood up, high and proud on her chest. With that hair and that face, she had an impact on that barroom like nothing I'd ever seen.

We had dancers on Tuesdays and Thursdays, nothing nude, but there were some fantastic ladies who crossed our stage. I swear to God that there was a moment of dead silence when she walked in. I heard Jorge breathe out, "Madre de Dios," and then the buzz started again. I asked her if she was hungry, and she said she was. I caught Maria's eye and she came over. I ordered four tortas and beer, along with some chips and queso. The beer and chips came right away and she dug in. I told Maria to get beers for her boys and they sat at the bar.

"So, I hear you need supplies 160 kilometers back in the jungle," I said. "How soon do you need them?"

She laughed and it made me warm all over. "Do you really do that?"

"Yes, along with a little smuggling and bar owning," I told her. "Buckley, why did your mother tell you I left?"

"She said you were a jealous bastard and you thought she was running around on you," she said. "You divorced her, stole all the money and abandoned us. Are you going to tell me differently?"

"I almost think I will," I told her. "I know you won't accept this without proof. I don't have that on me. It's at my house. After you hear this, if you trust me enough, I'll take you home with me and show you the proof. Just listen and accept what I'm telling you for now. I'll show you later. If you don't trust me enough to go home with me, you can bring your boys or I'll meet you wherever you're staying, okay?"

"I'll listen, since you're feeding me," she said.

The tortas came, and she dug in. They had spiced up goat, chorizo, a slice of ham, onions, avocado, salsa and cabbage on them, with some hot pickled veggies on the side. She seemed to like it a lot. I watched her eat for a while, just collecting my thoughts.

"We dated; we got married," I told her. "We were both party animals. I thought those days were over when we got married. They were for me, anyway. I don't know if she ever stopped. I never dreamed she hadn't. We were at a neighborhood barbeque and I needed to use the bathroom. The two at our house were occupied and the one downstairs at our neighbor's house was occupied, so I went upstairs. There were sounds coming from one of the bedrooms. I glanced in on the way past. Four of our neighbors and supposed friends and Alicia were in there on the bed. They had her water tight, and she was plainly enjoying the hell out of it."

"Water tight?" she said.

"All the holes were plugged," I told her. This was as embarrassing as hell. "One of the holes was plugged twice."

She blushed. "Well, I'm sorry I asked," she said.

"I'm sorry I had to tell you, I went and got our camera from the house. We lived next door. They were still going at it when I got back. I took 12 pictures. They never knew I was there. I went home, packed up my stuff and checked into a motel. I never spoke to her again. There was no point in it. That wasn't something I was going to get over. I never knew she was pregnant. The judge handed her the keys to the rest of my life. I didn't feel like getting driven in that car, so I got out of Dodge. I've never been back."

"You still have the pictures?" she was incredulous.

"I'm a packrat," I told her. "I still have my letterman's jacket from high school. They're in a box in the attic."

"You're right, I'll never believe that unless you can prove it," she said. "Mom isn't like that. Are you sure they weren't raping her?"

"I know what she sounds like when she's coming," I told her. "Raped women don't come."

"No, I guess you're right," she said. "That's more information than I wanted, again. These are really good sandwiches."

"We'll convey your compliments to the chef," I laughed. She had eaten three of them and drank two beers. "Are you sure about your paternity?" I asked her. "Evidently you were conceived pretty close to the gang bang. Of course, two of the guys were black, so I guess they're eliminated."

"Mom said she had a DNA test done," she said. "You left an envelope with some of your first haircut in it behind."

Something about that bothered me, but I couldn't put my finger on it, so I let it go. "So why come looking now?" I asked. "What happened that made you decide to make my life so fun?"

"I got the money," she said. "Mom's uncle Don passed away and left me some money. Did you know him?"

"Yeah, he was some asshole engineer," I said. "I never knew him well. His wife divorced him for cheating on her. I remember thinking it must run in the family."

She got indignant. "He always regretted that," she said. "Evidently you didn't know him very well."

"It doesn't matter," I said. "So you got some money and decided to track down dear old Dad for some well-deserved retribution, huh?"

She grinned. "Yep, but you were a little too prepared for me." Her smile faded and bitterness swept over that beautiful face. "Do you know how hard it was for me? We never had enough money and we scraped by all my life. Gram helped out when she could. We lived in a series of shitty apartments and I wore cheap clothes and we ate macaroni and cheese five times a week. I had a miserable school life and I couldn't afford to go to college, even though I got scholarship offers. That's what not having a father does to a girl."

I was horrified. "I'm so sorry, Buckley," I told her. "I just never knew. I never wanted to know what was going on with her. It was too painful at first, and then when I got over that, I just didn't care. I guess I should have checked up on her."

"If what you say is true, there's no reason why you should," she conceded. "I'm going to need that proof."

"I hate to say this..." I really did. "I'm going to need to see that proof, too. We've gotten off to such a good start I don't want to mess it up, but I want to see those DNA tests."

She laughed. "Well, you have a sense of humor at least. I don't have them. I've never seen them. I have my birth certificate with your name listed as my father. I have pictures of Mom and me. Do you not think she actually had the tests done?"

"It seems sort of suspicious to me," I said. "I don't know enough about it. When we get a chance, we'll look it up on the computer, okay? Besides, no one as gorgeous as you could ever come from someone as ugly as me."

She looked me over with a critical eye. "I think the size is about right. I got the hair from Mom's side, but you're a very good-looking man. I think women must find you nearly irresistible."

"Tell that to your mother," I laughed. "How do you want to do this, Buckley? Do you trust me enough to go to my house? I could meet you wherever you're staying."

"I don't actually have a place to stay. I wasn't planning to stay," she said.

"Good, you can stay with me," I told her. "After I show you the pictures will you forgive me?"

"It's not going to be that easy," she said. "You have a whole hell of a lot of making up to do, even if I believe you. I won't have you killed, but you still have a lot of explaining to do. Why couldn't you just forgive her?"

"You got a boyfriend?" I asked her.

"Not right now," she said. "He said I was obsessed and broke up with me."

"He was insane," I told her. "But the point I was making was, what if you came home and he was in bed with four of your best friends? Would you forgive him?"

"No, I don't guess I would," she said.

"You must take after me," I told her. "How do you feel about cheaters, Buckley?"

"They're despicable," she said. "If they don't want to be with their partners they should just tell them and leave."

"That's exactly how I feel," I said. "Maybe if you were high or stranded somewhere or in a dangerous situation together I could understand a moment of weakness. I don't understand a married woman and four married men in a gang bang. You can't expect me to forgive that."

"No, I guess I can't, but why did you have to leave us so broke like that?"

"I didn't think I should have to pay your mother for cheating, destroying our marriage and breaking my heart," I told her. "Remember, I didn't know about you. In retrospect, I was way too harsh. I was pissed off and hurting, okay?"

"Let's go see this proof," she stood up. The room went quiet again for about thirty seconds and she went over and had a few words with her boys. They handed her a backpack and they said a few more words. She came back and pulled out the birth certificate and the pictures. She was definitely Alicia's daughter. Whether she was mine was yet to be established. We left and her boys stayed, so I guess she was through with them. We ran through the rain to my truck and hopped in.

She was pretty impressed with my house. I gave her the tour and dropped the ladder to the attic. We climbed up and I turned on the light. It was pretty dusty and it took me a minute to find the right box. They were there in a manila envelope, all the dirty evidence. She looked at the first two and shuddered, pushing them back inside.

"I've seen enough," she said. I took her back down and got us another beer. She sat on the sofa and I could see her start to shake. Tears started rolling down those creamy cheeks and she gulped a couple of times. I got up and went over. I sat down beside her and took her in my arms. She went stiff for a minute and then she began to sob, great wracking sobs that shook her body in my arms. She buried her face in my chest and just cried her little heart out. I tried to comfort her as best I could. It was breaking my heart and I could feel my own tears flowing. What if she was my daughter? What if she wasn't? Whole new possibilities opened up for me and my life became exciting and filled with something I hadn't felt for years. She cried herself to sleep, her breath still catching in a shudder for a while.

She wasn't going to wake up any time soon. I eased her down on the sofa and went and changed the sheets on the spare bed. When I came back, she just looked so adorable I couldn't help myself. I knelt and kissed her cheek. She stirred and I picked her up. She was surprisingly heavy, and she woke up as I was carrying her. She stiffened up for a second and then relaxed. I put her on the bed and she curled up in a little ball.

"Buckley, your clothes are wet," I whispered. "Get in bed, honey. I'm right next door if you need anything. Everything I have is yours. Use anything you need."

"Thank you," she murmured and I left, closing the door behind me.

I tossed and turned for a while before I fell asleep with the image of that beautiful girl, maybe my daughter, in my mind. When I woke up, the rain was gone and it was a humid tropical sunny day. It was ten in the morning and my daughter was sleeping in my spare bedroom, maybe. I got up and showered. Morning ablutions finished, I went to her room. The idea of that thrilled me, her room! I peeked in and she was sleeping. I had to do it. I went and knelt down by the bed and just watched her sleep. Her lips were slightly parted and that mane of fiery hair was spread out across her pillow. I was struck again at how gorgeous she was. A wisp of fire had fallen across her face and her breathing moved it. I tucked it behind her ear.