Chapter 25: Deuce
*Only a few months after we landed in country, Murphy got a Dear John letter. Then two days after Murphy was killed, we received a letter saying that his ex-girlfriend gave birth. Looking back, I understand, but sure as hell did not at the time. – Pops*
The ball dropped in New York, 2017 was behind them and 2018 was filled with possibilities. But there were things that Leo needed to know he could move forward. After his talk with Brute, he discovered that he had even more questions.
Why did Pops put him in his will?
Why did Pops consider him one of his grandkids?
He could not ask Pops himself. But he could talk to the men who knew him best. around noon on January first, Leo rode over to the former auto dealership that was now known as Pops Place. He found Critter nursing a hangover.
“What’s up, kid?” Critter asked as he poured some coffee into a travel cup of sugar.
“Looking for your dad,” Leo said as he approached where the other man stood near the bar.
“Trust me, kid, you do not want anything to do with my dad right now,” Trigg's youngest son chuckled.
“Is he mad or something?”
“Drunk. And when Trigg is drunk, Sid gets fucked in the ass.”
Leo felt his jaw drop at the dismissive way that the man spoke of his parents having sex.
“Why do you think I’m here and not at home?”
Chance made his way over to the bar and took the coffee from the teen. After drinking all the coffee, he handed the empty cup back to the unsurprised Critter.
“Just trying to help you out,” Chance said as he grabbed his own coffee cup. “Don’t need your parents to know that their baby boy was drinking.”
Refilling his cup, Critter replied, “My parents were too busy fucking each other’s brains out to care what I was doing.”
“Okay, do you know where I can find Deuce?” Leo asked, trying desperately to redirect the conversation.
“I’m headed out that way,” Chance offered, “I can take you over.” He grabbed a lid for his coffee and motioned to hallway, “I’m grabbing the keys to the pickup and will catch a ride back, later.”
“Hey,” Critter called and tossed the older man a set of keys, “thanks.”
“No problem,” he offered a salute with the coffee cup. “Come on, Leo. You can follow me out or load up the bike in the back and ride with me.”
“I’ll follow you out,” Leo said following the other man out the door.
The idea of making small talk with anyone in Priscilla’s family did not sit well with him. What would he say? I think I might be related to my girlfriend.
On the ride out the family farm, he wondered how he would say … well, anything. Hi, Deuce, your father left me in his will, and I don’t know why.
By the time they reached the A-frame house, Leo was almost ready to puke. Chance stopped the truck and motioned to where Leo should park next to the bike under the awning attached to the detached garage. As Leo parked and removed the helmet, he watched the other man park the pickup in the open garage and plug up the shoreline to the battery.
A blustery wind blew through the open building and both men shivered. Chance swore as he blew on his hands and stomped his feet.
“Fuck, it’s cold!” Chance declared as they stepped up onto the wooden deck that led to a bank of windows that covered the front of the A-frame building. Leo followed him through the wood and glass door in the center. “I am not made for farming or any of this outdoor shit.”
“You’re not made for anything that doesn’t involve a woman on her back or her knees,” Deuce grinned at his nephew as he stood behind the kitchen island stirring a hot liquid in a large cup from the Cookie Jar.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Chance said as he began to strip off the layers of his leather jacket and gloves.
Leo also started to pull off his gloves and beanie. He looked up at the older man and saw when recognition and understanding hit the face that looked so much like his father’s. Deuce gave a small nod before he grabbed something off the island and called out Chance’s name. Chance barely caught the keys that were aimed at his head.
“Take the blue Chevy over to Molly, he knows what needs to be done to it.”
“Mother fucker,” Chance grumbled as he pulled his leathers back on.
Chuckling, Deuce messed with his phone and then tossed it back onto the island. “You’ll survive.”
“You could at least let me warm up,” Chance was pulling his outer jacket and gloves back on.
“Becks will take care of you better than I can,” Deuce told his nephew as he headed out the same door that he had just entered through.
“Kenneth Thompson.”
Leo nodded at his legal name.
“I probably have some coffee, the rest of my family drinks it,” he told Leo. “I prefer tea.”
“Tea is fine,” he answered softly.
Going to the stove, he pulled another large mug off the open shelf and listed the different types of tea he had. When there was no response, he turned to look at the younger man. After assuring Leo that the tea was good, he filled a saucepan with water.
“What do you know about your family?” he asked and motioned for Leo to sit at the marble island.
“My mother killed my father and my siblings. She was a runaway, and no one knew anything about her family. Dad’s mom had died before I was born, and his father wanted nothing to do with him.”
“That’s because Eric Thompson was not his real father,” Deuce explained as he added the chai spices and tea bags to steep after reducing the heat.
Swallowing several times, Leo tried to find his voice. When Deuce returned to his own tea, Leo quietly aske, “Is… is Pops my grandfather?”
“No,” Deuce smiled and gave a small shake of his head. “But I can see why you would think that. There were three friends that went to Viet Nam; Killer, Pops and Murphy.”
“Murphy didn’t get a road name?”
“Murphy didn’t make it home.”
“Oh.”
“Dad kept all of Murphy’s letters, I guess, technically, mom did. I have the Dear John letter up in the loft along with everything he ever sent mom.”
Confused, Leo asked, “Did your dad steal his girl?”
Laughing, Deuce moved to the refrigerator to get the milk. He added milk and sugar to the simmering tea and turned the heat back up slightly. After putting the milk away, he moved back to the stove and began to stir the Masala Chai. When it reached the consistency that he wanted, he turned off the heat and poured the tea through a strainer into the large mug.
Handing the warm drink to the younger man, he motioned for Leo to follow him to the third-floor loft.
“Watch your head up here,” Deuce warned as he sat his own mug on a tall metal file cabinet. Grabbing a box off a shelf, he sat down in a nearby chair.
“My mother was Demia Murphy; she was your father’s aunt. Your grandmother was pregnant when they all deployed but did not know that. Times were different, there were no unwed teenage mothers. You either got married, or you gave up your baby.”
He opened the box and pulled out a stack of letters. Looking at the top envelope, he put it back and then pulled out a much smaller one. He handed the second stack over to Leo.
“Those are the letters that your grandmother sent. Murphy got one every week, sometimes more than one, and then they stopped. The last letter is the Dear John letter. It’s heartbreaking. She loved Murphy and would have willingly been that unwed mother.”
He let out a deep breath, “But she had no way of supporting herself, mush less herself and a child. Her parents arranged a marriage for her."
"Eric Thompson," Leo surmised.
Deuce nodded. "There was no love between those two.”
“And when she died, he was free of the bastard child of the man that she did love.”
“Exactly. A few months later, Murphy was killed in a firefight and Killer was injured. They got back to the fire support base, and there was a letter from mom. Your father was born about two weeks before his father died.”
Looking up with tears in his eyes, he asked, “Is that why Pops kept seeing me?”
“Yeah,” Deuce nodded. “You were a connection to his friend. He wanted to make sure that you knew that you were not alone. You had family.” Smiling, he corrected himself. “You *have* family.”