The Dreeson Incident(208)

"I'm a little surprised that the formality of a marriage means that much to you."



"To me?" Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. "It doesn't, really. I'd be perfectly happy to go on from here with the promises we've made each other already. But I'm not the only person involved and you and your wife brought Missy up differently."



"Give me a week, will you?" Chad asked. "Before you make it public? To bring my mom around."





That sounded like a paternal blessing to Ron. At least, closer to one than he had been expecting.



He thought of his few meetings with Eleanor Jenkins since the dinner last Thanksgiving. She hadn't been really thrilled when Wes and Clara had invited Missy and him to be Eleanor Maria's godparents.



She particularly had not been thrilled when Gerry entertained the christening party with a description of the day that Magda, finding out that her stepsons had never been baptized, had taken care of the matter. In the Lothlorien Farbenwerke greenhouse. With a garden hose. On the grounds that, after all, only water and the Word were necessary.



Clara had thought it was hilarious. Clara and Magda would get along great if Dad and Magda ever got back from Italy. They had a lot in common.



If Missy's dad could bring the old lady around in a week, then he had to be as good a salesman as he claimed. Though even Chad hadn't said anything about bringing Vera Hudson around.



"Ah," he said. "Um. The things that Missy's grandma was saying last Thanksgiving. All that stuff about handing china down in the family for generations and such."



Chad nodded.



"I'm not going to lie to you. I don't have that. We have the best dad any boys could ask for, but growing up on a commune, you don't have that generation to generation stuff."



"People have wondered, sometimes."



"Dad's always made things plain to us. He's Frank's father, biologically. He's not Gerry's, no way. For me, it's sort of iffy. There was opportunity and our blood types don't rule out that he's my father, but we don't know for sure. Nothing ever made it important to find out, up-time. It's never made any difference to him. He's always been there for all of us when we needed him, and that's enough."





"That pot-growing hippie in our family!" Eleanor Jenkins said. For about the tenth time.



Chad got up and wandered over to the wall with the family photos, standing with his hands folded behind his back. "Tom Stone is not a hippie anymore, Mom. Not a poor one, at least. He's made a lot of money. Legally. In fact, today he's easily the richest man in Grantville or anywhere nearby. And I've worked a couple of deals with his father-in-law. No flies on him or his daughter."



He looked at the picture of his grandfather Newton. "It's not like Ron is in a hillbilly band, traveling cross-country in a bus. I wonder what Great-grandma Williams said when Grandma told her who she wanted to get married to."



"That was different," his mother said primly, her arms folded across her slim chest. "Besides, it's pretty obvious that Ron, or young Gerry at least, isn't . . ."



"Hold it right there, Mom," Chad interrupted, turning towards her. "What Tom Stone has been for those boys ought to be enough for us too, I think. There when they needed him. That's exactly what Dad always was for Wes and me, and you told me once that he was the finest man on earth. Emphasized it with a slap, as I recall. I figure you had reason to say that. Right?"



Chad pinned his mother with his eyes, glaring at her until at last she turned her head away. "I'm not asking you to clasp Ron Stone to your bosom. Just don't make Missy miserable. She loves you."



She started to shake her head.



"In the Bible, Mom. About casting the first stone. I'm not going to cast it. I know I haven't been perfect. I let you get away with bossing us around a lot because it's easier and most of the time I don't give a damn either way. But not this time and if you can't see your way clear to accepting Ron and his family, you're going to be seeing a lot less of the rest of us.



"Sure, having china being handed down through the generations is nice. So is having a lot of family photographs. But it's not worth spit if you're a miserable human being. I don't care if Tom Stone doesn't have a plate or bowl older than a week. He's brought up three good sons, Mom, no matter else he's done. Three decent, honorable, boys. Even if only one of them was 'his' son, the way some people might see it. That was what Ron said to me. 'He's always been there for all of us when we needed him, and that's enough.' There's stuff in the Bible about pride going before a fall. Get over it."



Eleanor sat silently in her chair. Then she raised her head and in a calm, clear voice said, "You may as well get the quote right. It's from Proverbs. 'Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.' I'll drop my objections except for those I reserve mentally. Not that I can tell what Missy sees in the boy."