Chapter Twenty-One

"Where are we going, son? We've been driving a long time and instead of seeing more, I'm seeing less," Vincent stated as he looked out the window at the growing mountains and thickening forest around them.

"That depends on the way you look at it," Vince countered.

Vincent frowned and tilted his head to the side as he continued to stare out the window. "No," he disagreed. "Either way I look, I still see less."

Vince found himself chuckling and then stopped suddenly as shock settled in. He had never once chuckled, laughed or joked with his father. Vincent Griffin hadn't been the chuckling type. He'd been too stern, too serious and too professional to ever do something as immature as crack jokes and laugh.

Vince glanced over at his father and saw him holding Widget in his lap as he looked down at the little dog and petted it lovingly. Vince made a mental note to thank Patricia when he saw her. It would seem that Widget had had a positive impact on his old man.

"So where are we going?" Vincent asked again.

"I want to introduce you to someone," Vince replied. "He has a vast collection of war memorabilia, photos, weapon and even vehicles. I really think it's museum quality."

"I have always loved war history," Vincent said, sitting up straighter in his seat. "You don't think he'll mind if we look?"

"No," Vince replied, working hard to hide the amusement he felt inside. "No, he won't mind at all."

Ten minutes later, Vince put his car in park and turned if off outside Old Man Foster's house. Vince glanced over at his father to see him staring at the place in shock. "This looks like an old army fort or something. Are you sure someone lives here?"

"I'm sure." Vince opened his door and stepped out and his father followed suit. Vince led him a little ways toward the house and then stopped. "Shoot, I forgot something in the car. You go ahead and knock and I'll be right behind you."

Vincent simply nodded and kept walking, too caught up in his own excitement over his surroundings to pay much attention to his son.

Vince smiled when his father knocked on the door of the camouflage house and his smile turned into a laugh when Old Man Foster came bursting out of it with his gray hair flying in every direction and that shiny assault rifle in his hands.

"What the hell!" Vincent demanded before leaping backward. He stumbled but caught himself. "Vince!" he called out.

"Who the hell are you?" Old Man Foster demanded. "I don't want no damn Charlie around my place."

"It's okay, Old Man Foster," Vince assured the man as he walked over. "That's my father and to my knowledge he is not now, nor has he ever been, a Charlie."

"Vince!" Old Man Foster smiled good naturedly and set the but of the rifle on the ground, leaning against it like a cane. "It's good to see you again. I didn't realize you were still in town."

"Yeah, I'm still here," Vince replied.

"That rifle..." Vincent managed to croak, though he still had his hand over his heart as if holding it inside his chest.

"It's an ak-47 with a folding stock," Old Man Foster supplied.

"My father has always been a military history buff," Vince told the crazy man.

Old Man Foster nodded. "That's a good thing to be because history repeats itself." He scanned their surroundings and whispered. "It's always repeating itself."

Vincent tossed a quizzical glance in his son's direction. "It is?"

"Of course it is!" Old Man Foster exclaimed. "Those damn Charlie are everywhere. Why don't we get in the house and out of the line of fire while we talk?"

Without another word, Old Man Foster disappeared inside. Vince motioned for his father to go ahead but Vincent stood firm. "I'll follow you," he insisted. "I'm still not at all certain that you aren't going to get us both killed."

***

"Son, can I talk to you a moment before you leave?" Beverly asked that night outside the inn.

Vince glanced back toward the festival where Grace and Cadence were lost somewhere in the crowd waiting on him. It was late and he was tired. "Yes, of course," he replied.

Beverly led him around the side of the building where they'd have a bit more privacy. "I want you to give this to Grace," she said as she pulled his grandmother's ring from her pocket.

"You do?" Vince asked, his fingers reaching for it cautiously, certain that she'd yank it away at the last moment.

"She will be a good wife for you. She is everything that I should have wanted for you all along and I was foolish to doubt you. You will be a wonderful husband and father. You've done well to bring Grace and Cadence into our family."

"Thank you, mother," Vince replied, wrapping her in a warm hug. He felt her stiffen at first as public displays of affection were not common in their family but she loosened up quickly and buried her face in his chest.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, mom," Vince replied. Beverly pulled away and quickly wiped her face to hide her tears. "You should back in there to father," Vince urged. "He met a man tonight who has a large collection or war memorabilia. Father and the man spent the evening talking about starting a museum in town. I've never seen a single kid in a candy store any more excited than father is now."

"Great," Beverly muttered with a roll of her eyes. "That is just what I wanted to spend hours talking about tonight."

Vince grinned and kissed her head. "I better get back to Grace and Cadence. We have to get Cadence home and into bed because she has school tomorrow."

"You're staying at Grace's?" Beverly inquired.

Vince nodded. "Yes, and I have been for a while now. She made me sleep at the inn last night because she wanted you to think she was a good woman, but now that Brittany has shown up, I'm going home."

"Grace didn't have to prove to me that she was a good woman," Beverly insisted with a shake of her head. "And I want you to stay as far away from Brittany as you can."

"That's what I intend on doing," Vince assured her.

They walked back around to the front of the building and the door to the inn burst open. Brittany came flying out and Vince stumbled back. She had changed from her little green number into a thin strapped, silky black gown that barely fell past her ass. The black contrasted with her pale skin and her red hair fell in waves down her back.

Vince had to admit that she looked ready for the pages of playboy magazine themselves but there was no way he'd give up the real woman he had waiting for him for a roll in the sack with this crazy chick and her platypus lips.

Remembering the way Grace had imitated her earlier had Vince laughing quietly. "Are you laughing at me?!" Brittany demanded with a stomp.

Vince tried to stop but found the couldn't. "Yes, yes I am." He was still laughing as he walked away, eager to get back to his woman and daughter.

"Better luck next time, duck face," Beverly sniffed as she shouldered her way past Brittany and walked into the inn.

Brittany was fuming! Vince was hers! He'd been hers since the first time she'd seen him all those years ago. Brittany would not lose him to small town country hick with nearly invisible tits and tiny hips. She would have Vince and use any means necessary to get him.

***

"Grace?" Vince called out quietly as he stepped into the house late that night. He'd been surprised when he'd gotten back to the festival and Patricia had informed him that Meg had given Grace, Cadence and Ester a ride home because Cadence had been terribly sleepy.

Vince had rushed back, worried that maybe the girl had been sick and his concern grew now that he was inside. The kitchen was too dark and the house was quiet.

Vince saw a flickering light in the hallway and he frowned as he stepped toward it. Then his heart skipped a beat when he saw the single white candle glowing on the shelf. Grace's jeans and t-shirt were tossed onto the floor and a little further down the hall, lay her black lace bra that was his favorite.

The woman was trying to seduce him! Vince pulled off his shirt and dropped it to the floor before quickly striding across the hardwood floor. Who was he to disappoint her? Vince stepped into the bedroom and his knees trembled when he saw her.

Grace was sprawled on the bed and wrapped in red satin. The gown's tiny straps cut across her collarbones and the black lace at the neckline swooped low on her chest as the same black lace on the hem rode up on her creamy thighs.

More candles were lit in the room and they caused Grace's auburn hair and light skin to glow. "What's the occasion?" Vince managed to ask, though his voice was little more than a deep rumbling murmur.

Grace grinned and rose from the bed. She sauntered toward him, her tiny hips swaying with the movement. "Can't a woman just want to please her man?"

"Is this an attempt to prove to me that you're better than the rest?" Vince asked suspiciously, even as he placed his hands upon her hips and pulled her slender body to him.

Grace flushed as she bit her lip and he knew he'd hit the proverbial nail on the head. "Would you be angry with me if it was?" she inquired.

"No, sweetheart. No, I wouldn't be angry at all," he assured her. Grace let out a gasp of shock when Vince scooped her up into his arms. He smiled down at her before laying her gently in the bed and kissing her thoroughly.

***

They lay spent in each others arms a long time later. Vince's fingers were tracing gentle circles on her bare arm as she buried her fingers in the dusting of hair on his chest and listened to his heart beating steadily beneath her ear.

"While I'm not complaining..." Vince began. "..you do know that you that you don't have to compete with any other woman, don't you?"

Grace smiled and kissed his chest. "It never hurts to mark your territory."

Vince laughed before pulling away from her and rising from the bed, earning a disappointed glare from Grace. "Where are you going?"

"I have to give you something," he replied. Vince fished his jeans from the bedroom floor and pulled the ring from the pocket.

"What is it?" Grace asked, sitting up in the bed and wrapping the sheet around her to ward off the chill in the fall night air.

"This.." Vince walked to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knee, holding out the diamond and emerald ring.

"Oh my...." Grace gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"You are the love of my life. My one and only. For so long my business was all that mattered to me and I knew I'd never give this ring to any woman unless she made me want to put her first. I've found her, Grace."

"Do I know her?" Grace teased, her sense of humor once again sparking to life to hide the rise of emotions in her chest.

Vince smiled and took her hand gently. He slid the ring onto her finger and then laid his hand gently on her cheek. "I think you might."

"Vince, it's beautiful," Grace whispered, staring down at the gems as they glittered in the candlelight. "I'll be the talk of Clifton walking around with this big rock on my finger."

"You deserve to be the talk of Clifton. You've earned the attention."

"The notoriety you mean," Grace countered. "The women at the salon will carry on for hours!"

Vince winked. "I could always take the ring back."

He chuckled when Grace clutched her hand to her chest. "No you, can't!"

His gaze softened as he kissed her cheek. "I love you, Grace."

"I love you too."

Suddenly Cadence cried out with fear and both Grace and Vince knew it was another nightmare. "I've got her," Vince said quickly.

He grabbed a pair of folded, flannel pants off the dresser, pulled them on and quickly walked out of the room. Grace sent up a prayer of thanks for that man. He was already an amazing father to Cadence and Grace knew he would be an equally amazing husband.