Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series
Read Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series Online
Authors: Michelle Day
Michelle Y Day
All Rights Reserved
Disclaimer: This book
contains sexually explicit material and profanity. Please do not read further
if these things offend you.
This book is a work of
fiction. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are products
of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not
intentional.
In layman’s terms, if
you think you see yourself in this book, you don’t.
My life, my heart, my inspiration.
Cover courtesy of: Fiona Hillman and tweaked by Kerry
Heavens
With thanks to:
Everyone who has encouraged me and has loved my
characters as much as I do. There are too many to mention by name. You know who
you are.
There are
many things I
hope to achieve with my life and some that I have already accomplished. I own
my own business; I have fathered a child, I am successful in my own right but I
have yet to capture the woman of my dreams, I will get her, mark my words.
I have accepted that I am not ready to
settle down at this particular moment in time just as I have come to terms with
the fact that I will never and I do mean absolutely, positively, never achieve
anything which would cause my Father to tell me he is proud of me, I can live
with that. I sometimes feel it would be nice to be acknowledged as his son but
those moments are very few and far between.
My aim right now? To retire by the time I
am thirty. Yeah, right, as if I could leave the running of anything I own to
another for any length of time, it just isn’t going to happen. Perhaps I should
lower my expectations and say instead that I plan to be a millionaire by the
time I hit twenty five, that’s certainly achievable, I am well on my way
although I do keep my finances a closely guarded secret.
I am beginning to find that I like the
finer things in life. I like my cars fast and my women faster, the faster the
better as it means they don’t stick around too long. I like made to measure
clothes and revel in the fact that at this point in my life, I can afford
pretty much anything that takes my fancy. I take great pleasure in treating my
Mother, the woman who gave me life and continues to support me in all of my
endeavours. From trinkets to holidays, whenever I feel the urge to splurge, she
is at the forefront of my thoughts and that first purchase will always be something
for her.
I work hard, play harder and I try to be a
good father, I am a terrible boyfriend by my own and everyone else’s admission.
Women are my weakness; they have been for a very long time and probably will be
for a long time to come.
I take pride in my success even though it
sometimes makes me sacrifice time with my child. I have worked hard, sweated,
bled and cried for every penny I have earned. It’s added another layer to my
personality and has got me noticed. Yes, I do still play up to the media, I
freely admit that I love the attention but I’m building an empire here and
empire’s need a paparazzi boost every now and then, I recognised that fact at
an early age and use it to my full advantage at every available opportunity.
I am your tall, dark and handsome guide of
Prodigal Son, this is the continuing story of my life and those who come and go
through it, from the good times and the bad as I try to become something that
resembles a decent human being, a good parent and role model as I go about my daily
business making sure everything is as it should be and laying the foundations
to my future fortune.
I am a young man on the precipice of
greatness. I intend to fulfil the goals I have set for myself and I’m aware I
will have to tread on a few toes, stab a few backs and break a few hearts to
get there.
I am Paul Jensen
Deep, regular breathing interrupted by
movement as he turned over. A noise, persistent and loud was cutting through
his slumber. He kicked at the sheet tangled around his legs as he turned again.
Nearly awake now as the noise irritated him, he rubbed a hand over his face and
pushed his hair away as he moved the cover from over his head and slowly opened
his eyes.
Although the sky outside the window was
dark, his room was lit by the hall light beaming through his open bedroom door
which explained why he could hear the phone ringing, the noise that had woken
him.
Raising his head from the pillow, he
listened to the still ringing instrument, annoyed that someone hadn’t picked it
up yet, sighing, he heaved his weary body into a sitting position and reached
for his jeans, still the ringing persisted “Someone get the phone!” he shouted
and within seconds the ringing stopped. Leaving his room en route to the
bathroom, the ringing started again; he paused on the landing, waiting to see
if one of his siblings would answer.
Realising that answering the annoying
ringing was down to him, he glanced towards his father’s study, the only phone
upstairs was in there but getting caught in that room without permission was a
fate worse than death, deciding against invoking the wrath of the older man, he
sprinted down the stairs, goose bumps rising on his naked torso as he
approached the telephone stand in the unheated hallway.
“Hello?”
“About bloody time you picked up the phone
Paul Jensen, why the hell aren’t you here?”
“Helen? Is everything alright?”
“Oh for God’s sake, don’t pretend you
don’t know, I called hours ago to let you know, you could easily have been here
by now.” Helen Novak hissed down the phone.
“Carmen’s in labour?” He asked.
“Was, not anymore, congratulations, you’re
a Dad.” She answered her voice thick with sarcasm.
“I didn’t know, shit, I’ll be there as
soon as I can.” He stammered, “Is Carmen ok?”
“She’s tired and very sore but she’ll be
fine, the baby is also doing well.”
“Good, please tell her I’m on my way, I’m
sorry I missed it.”
“I spoke to your mother, she said you were sleeping, I though perhaps the
birth of your child might have been important enough for her to wake you up.”
“Yeah, you’d think so.” His anger was
clear from the tone of his voice, “Helen, you haven’t said what the baby is.”
“It’s a boy Paul, you have a son.”
Hanging up, Paul stared at the phone for a
while, repeating the conversation in his head, Helen had told Monica who in
turn had chosen not to tell him. No longer feeling the cold as his anger warmed
his body, he slammed into the kitchen door making it quake on its hinges fully
expecting to find his Mother at some domestic chore, he was disappointed when
he found the kitchen empty.
Heading to the front of the house, he
opened the living room door on his way to the front door and looked in, this
room was also empty. Stopping at the front door, he peered through the glass in
the top quarter of it, the driveway was empty, confirming his suspicions that
no one was home. Turning on his heel, he headed for the stairs.
Halfway up, he stopped. His anger,
generally a short lived thing was beginning to dissipate and it vanished
completely as the enormity of his situation overwhelmed him. Clutching the
banister, he took a deep breath, taking stock, he was sixteen years old and his
twenty five year old girlfriend had just given birth to his son, if he thought
the past nine months had been a troublesome mess he knew more of the same would
surely follow, things were going to get much worse before they got better.
He saw the note on the bedside table as he
entered his room. Flicking on the light, he recognised Monica’s neat hand
writing, the note explained that she had tried to wake him on several occasions
to no avail; it touched on Carmen’s labour and informed him that the entire
family, with the exception of his father, could be found at his grandparent’s
house.
Throwing caution to the wind, he used the
phone in his fathers’ study to call his mother, explaining that he needed to
get to Gloucester quickly; she agreed to drive him there and told him to start
packing a bag, she would arrange for them to stay in a hotel for a few days
while he got to know his son.
Monica, being no slouch behind the wheel
at the best of times, got them to the hospital with ten minutes to go before
the end of visiting. During the drive she had repeatedly apologised to Paul for
not trying harder to wake him and although he had been initially annoyed at her
for letting him sleep through the birth of his child, he fully understood that
her maternal instinct had made her efforts a little half hearted, she had
wanted him to sleep and unbeknown to him, had even arranged for him to have
time off from Jensen Incorporated for the sole purpose of allowing him to rest
and recoup.
Walking down the centre of the ward,
guided by a nurse, Paul couldn’t help but notice the looks he was getting from
the women in their beds, he had the un-nerving feeling that each and every one
of them knew who he was and therefore they would be well aware of his
involvement with Carmen and the scandal it had caused.
Helen rose from her chair as the nurse
ushered Paul around the partly closed curtain, she wanted to berate him again
for not being there for her friend but she could see for herself the dark
circles that persisted under his eyes and he didn’t look nearly as healthy as
he had the last time she had seen him.
“I’ll give you a moment.” She murmured
squeezing past him.
“Hi” Paul lent in to kiss Carmen, he
withdrew when she turned her face away from him “Carmen, I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t want to know more like.” She
hissed.
“I was sleeping, Mum tried to wake me but
I was completely out of it. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll bet she tried really hard to wake
you, you should have been here.”
“I know; I’m here now. How are you?” He
glanced around the bed, for the life of him he couldn’t see the baby.
“I’m tired and really sore, I tore badly.”
She started to explain but stopped when she saw his puzzled expression “You did
read the books I gave you? You understand that sometimes it is necessary for
the woman to be cut down there to allow the baby’s head out?” She stopped as
comprehension dawned on his handsome features. “Well, I tore, the head came out
quicker than expected, I’ve torn all the way around, I can’t remember how many
stitches I have but I know it’s a mind numbing number. It looks like mince meat
down there.”
Paul shuddered at her description. “How
long will that take to heal?”
“Who knows?” She shrugged.
“Er Carmen? Where’s the baby?”
“In the nursery, I can’t get out of bed to
lift him out of his cot so he is being kept there and brought to me when he
needs feeding.”
“Oh, ok. The ward thing is horrible, does
anyone talk to you or is it as it seems and everyone knows who you are and what
went on between us?” He asked referring to their well publicised
teacher/student relationship that the world and his wife seemed to know about.
“I’ve been called a pervert and
paedophile.” She confirmed “I shouldn’t think your presence here is helping one
little bit but I am so glad you came. Do you want to see the baby?” He nodded
and smiled as he got to his feet and leant over her again, carefully wrapping
his arms around her and feeling her lips brush his neck as he held her.
“We’ll have to think of a name for him.”
He said, returning to his seat.
“His name is Gavin.” She replied.
“Gavin? Why Gavin? Can’t I make some
suggestions?”
“It was my Dad’s name and no, it’s not
open for further suggestions.”
“I like it but it would have been nice to
be consulted.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t remember if we had
agreed anything but I’m not going to change my mind. I’ll ask a nurse to take
you to the nursery.”
“Ok, I’ll see about getting you a single
room while I’m here.”
In the corridor, Helen hesitated when she
laid eyes on Paul’s mother, she had been beginning to wonder if Carmen’s take
on the woman wasn’t somewhat correct, she did indeed seem to have Paul wrapped
around her little finger. Her considered quick exit into the waiting room was
stalled when Monica looked her way and raised an eyebrow before smiling at her
and stepping forward, hand outstretched.
“Ah Helen?” Monica asked.
“It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Jensen.”
Helen grasped her hand.
“Please call me Monica.” She answered
“I’ve heard a lot about you and your son is he with you?”
“No, Luke is staying with one of his
friends from play group, he’s a good boy but I’m afraid these long straight
hallways would be too much for him and he’d turn into a screaming hooligan
while he knocked nurses and patients flying so it’s best that he stays with his
friend.” She explained.
Monica chuckled “Paul was quite taken with
him, as was my brother; he sounds like a little bit of a handful.”
“He is, quite a bit of a handful actually,”
Helen admitted “Strong willed but he already has so much character, it’s
difficult to stay cross with him, I dread to think what he will be like as a
teenager.” She shuddered.
“You’d best grab some experience while
Paul is around, he’ll most certainly give you a run for your money.” Monica
replied ruefully.
Helen regarded the elegant dark haired
woman beside her, she could certainly see where Paul’s dark features came from
as his eyes were the almost identical shade of brown as Monica’s and his olive skin
was just as flawless. Despite having three children, Monica had maintained her
figure and was only slightly fuller in the hips than she had been in her youth,
in middle age she was still incredibly beautiful and her movements were
measured and graceful, something else she had noticed in Paul. She sensed a
fierceness to Monica which was present when she referred to her son but
otherwise she was softly spoken and genteel. But gave off the general air that
she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly and was not to be messed with.
“I was surprised when Paul wasn’t here for
the birth.” Helen ventured into dangerous territory.
“I did try to wake him but I failed.
Perhaps part of me thought that a sixteen year old shouldn’t be in a delivery
room watching the birth of a child whether it is his or not.”
“Surely that was his decision to make?”
Helen asked.
“Possibly.” Monica agreed “But I was doing
what I thought was best for my son, I was trying to protect him. As the mother
of a son, and a very good mother from what Paul tells me, surely you understand
that?”
Helen smiled, she had been put firmly on
the spot. “Of course I understand, and I do think it was right to keep him from
being in the delivery room but I also think that he should have been the one to
decide that and he could at least have been here waiting for when it was all
over.”
Monica studied the painfully thin blond
woman beside her and considered her words. “Yes, I do believe that would have
been a happy medium.” She paused slightly, thinking that she now regretted not
letting Paul make his own choice. “How is Carmen?”
“She’s in quite a bit of pain, once the
baby decided it was time to be born it was all hands on deck, he shot out like
an Exocet missile, I’m only surprised that the midwife wasn’t standing at the end
of the bed wearing a catcher’s mitt. He was born so quickly that Carmen’s body
didn’t get the chance to adjust and she has excessive tearing, you know, down
there?” Helen glanced to her own lower body just to make sure Monica
understood. “She’s going to take a while to heal.”
“Poor thing.” Monica’s sympathy was
genuine, although her only natural birth had been with Tessa; the pain from the
caesarean she had the twins by had caused her no end of sleepless nights.
“The baby is in the nursery as Carmen is
bed ridden right now. I expect someone will take you and Paul to see him soon.”
Paul actually took a step back when the
nurse held out the sleeping bundle to him, he looked towards Monica who reached
out for the baby and took him in her arms as she frowned at her son.
“What is wrong with you?” She asked,
unused to this uncharacteristic behaviour.
“I....I don’t know what to do, how to hold
him.” He admitted, frustrated, he thrust his hands into his pockets.
Monica tutted. “Sit down.” She ordered,
not surprised when he did as he was told. Bending over her son, she gave him
instructions on how to hold his child and slowly eased the tiny body from her
arms to his, fussing over them until Paul looked a little less like he had a
board up his back and relaxed back into the chair.
Peeling back the blanket, Paul eased the
tip of his finger into the tiny, perfectly formed hand and admired the minute
finger nails. Tiny fingers grasped his finger with a surprisingly strong grip,
making him smile, he felt tears begin to prickle his eyes as the boy squirmed
and made a soft mewling noise before settling once more into sleep.