Chapter Two

   While I was driving Bobby home I still kept the secret.  I don't know
why, since it was going to bust wide open the instant he saw her.  Or the
instant he hugged her, anyway.  When she gave me a hug nowadays there was
obviously something pressing against my stomach.

   But I'd told her she was going to have to tell him sooner or later.  I
guess it was going to be sooner.

   On the way I heard all about basic and what he called A.I.T.  It was
different than I had thought it would be.  They got a lot less law
enforcement than I expected, and a lot more security type instruction.

   His appetite hadn't suffered.  While I avoided fast food these days, he
was ravenous for it.  We stopped at a Sonic and he ordered three entrees
off the menu, with what looked like heaps of tater tots and a 44 ounce
drink.  He ate while I drove.

   I don't think there was anything left after about ten miles.

   ==================================

   I had my cell phone with me, but I guess it just never occurred to me to
call Chrissy and warn her Bobby was coming home.

   When I pulled in the driveway it was after midnight, and there were no
lights on in the house.  I was pretty bushed.  I guess I assumed Bobby
would see her ...  and find out ...  the next morning.

   That's not quite how it worked out.

   I had just gotten in bed when Chrissy screamed "BOBBY!  WHAT ARE YOU
DOING HERE?"

   There was some shushing sounds and then the hallway lit up a little bit
as somebody turned on a light.  I guess he'd left the door open when he
went in to wake her up and tell her he was home.  His voice was the next
thing I heard.

   "What the fuck?" It was a very strained, loud, but at the same time he
was obviously trying to be quiet.  Then a little louder "Why didn't you
TELL ME?"

   I heard Chrissy's voice and winced.  I'd told her she'd have to face
this.

   "Fuck, Chrissy!" came Bobby's voice, again trying to be quiet, and
failing.  It was the next thing he said that made me sit up in bed: "What
are we going to do?!"

   You know how something happens that doesn't make sense, and you know it
should make sense, but it just doesn't and there's nothing you can do to
figure it out?  Something about the way he said that just turned a light on
in my brain and illuminated everything.  I didn't like what I saw, because
in that light that faceless male who had plagued my dreams ...  the one
hunched over my baby girl, getting her pregnant ...  turned out to be my
son.  I just knew it, somehow.  I didn't want to believe it, but there was
that note in his voice that just said it.  What are "we" going to do?  He
should have said "What are YOU going to do."

   I had no idea what to do.  I knew I SHOULD get up and go confront them.
But what if I was wrong?  You can accuse your kids of a lot of things and
get away with it ...  but accusing them of incest?  I knew that would turn
out badly.  In fact, either way it was going to turn out badly.  And, to be
honest, I just didn't want to know right then.  I was in shock.

   So I didn't get up.

   I should have.  I don't think I slept at all that night, as tired as I
was from the trip.  I'd had some clues.  Maybe you, the reader had already
figured it out by now.  But it just wasn't something I'd contemplated.

   I contemplated the hell out of it now.  They'd always been close.  They
didn't fight and feud like a lot of siblings do.  And when Marie had taken
off, they'd sought comfort in each other's company.  I'd known that ...  I
just didn't know how MUCH comfort they'd sought.

   I spent some time trying to convince myself I should have known,
somehow. Then I went through a period of doubt.  What if that closeness I'd
seen simply meant that, like me, Bobby considered himself as just being in
this with her.  He was her brother, and he felt responsible for making sure
she was all right.  How could I have just assumed the worst?  I spent a lot
of time that night thinking about what a pathetic father I'd been ...  was.

   Then, about five in the morning, I realized two things.

   The first was that Bobby hadn't stormed into my room wanting to know why
I hadn't told him.

   The second was that I didn't hear the front door slam as he left the
house to go find the son of a bitch who had knocked up his sister, and kill
him.

   Those two little facts solidified my suspicions, but by then hours had
passed, and it was too late to do any kind of confrontation that would do
anybody any good.

   ====================================

   I must have dozed, because when I opened my eyes the sun was up.  I felt
like shit.  I got up at the insistence of my bladder and looked at the
wreck in the mirror when I was done.  I didn't even have the urge to shave.

   I wondered if they were still in the house.  Then I panicked as I
thought about the possibility that they'd fled together, to avoid my wrath.
I didn't feel very wrathful.  My state of mind was more in the realm of
confusion than anger.  Several times during the night I thought about how,
over the last couple of months when I got the chance, I stared at my
daughter's pussy.  True, Bobby had done more than look ...  but how big a
difference was it really?  I'd gotten hard for her.  I'd had some fantasies
as I jacked off, replacing that faceless man with myself.

   When I entered the kitchen I know I must have been a little wild-eyed. I
was a bit frantic, fearing that I'd lost both my kids.  But Chrissy was
standing at the stove, cooking something, just like it was a normal day. 
Bobby was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, reading the paper.  A
sound of agonized relief came from my throat and they both looked over at
me.

   Maybe it was the look on my face.  Maybe they just wanted to get it over
with.  For whatever reason Bobby stood up and just said "Dad, I'm the one
who got Chrissy pregnant."

   Just like that.

   I know I stood there looking stunned, but the absolutely outrageous
thing was the REASON I was so stunned.  I'd spent the last two months
hating the man who got my daughter pregnant.  I'd had a basically sleepless
night of torture as I contemplated accusing my kids of incest.  Never mind
that there are a dozen or more cultures in the world that are just fine
with that behavior.  Ours wasn't one of them.  But the REASON I was stunned
at that moment was because I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

   It was very complicated, now that I think back on it.  Part of the
relief, as I said before, was because they were both still there.  But the
complicated part was that I was relieved that it had been Bobby who she had
parted her legs for.  I loved Bobby, and I loved her, and it was impossible
in those few moments to hate either of them.  It was impossible even to be
unhappy with them.  Later on I'd worry about things that everybody worries
about when incest produces a baby, but at that moment in time I was elated
that it was Bobby's baby in that gently swelling belly, instead of some
stranger's.

   Which explains why I blurted "Good!"

   ==================================

   I don't know how much later it was that I fully came to my senses. 
There was a lot of noise going on in that room.  Somehow we had all come
together in a group hug, and all three of us were talking at the same time.
We were all crying too.  It was a surreal kind of situation to find one's
self in, and I'm sure they both felt that way too.

   At any rate, eventually a sort of halting story came out.  He'd been
getting ready to go off to basic training.  She was worried about him.  His
girlfriend had broken up with him, angry that he was leaving her for the
Army.  Chrissy was scared that something would happen to him.  He probably
was too, though he'd never have admitted it.  So they were both strung out
emotionally and a hug had turned into something wild and passionate as each
tried to express the depth of feeling for the other.  He'd kissed away her
tears and, at some point in the process, his lips had brushed hers.  They
were overwhelmed with feelings that demanded more until suddenly they were
on the bed and their clothes were coming off.

   Afterwards they tried to make sense of what they'd done.  He'd taken her
virginity.  At the time she hadn't cared.  In the aftermath they felt
guilty, but at the same time it had been undeniably precious to both of
them.  Neither had had time to process the storm of emotion because Bobby
had left the next day.

   I remembered the mood in the house that morning, as I got ready to take
him to the airport.  I'd had my own feelings to deal with as I sent my son
off to an unknown future.  I'd completely missed that part of the somber
mood that was the result of lovers torn apart.

   Finally the surge of emotions began to wane and we were left there in
the kitchen with a big invisible question mark filling the room.

   What was going to happen now?

   ====================================

   Society puts expectations on its citizens.  As a result, the citizens
put expectations on themselves.  It's all supposed to affect behavior. 
Then things like love, passion, imagination and even hormones have an
effect on behavior that conflict with societies expectations.  It can make
for a tumultuous life.  A lot of it depends on how seriously you take
society's strictures.  Or maybe it's more to do with whether or not you
think you can stay below society's radar.

   The next two days were a little like trying to tiptoe barefoot across a
room where five pounds of thumbtacks have been spilled.  You try to pick a
path that seems least likely to result in pain.  At the same time, you have
to get across the room - go about your routine business.

   In other words, it stayed complicated.  I was honestly relieved to know
who the father of Chrissy's baby was.  More to the point, I was relieved
that it wasn't somebody other than Bobby.  But that didn't mean I approved
of a resumption of the activity between them that had produced that baby.

   I suspect it was just as complicated for them.  A man and woman who love
each other, and have created life in the woman's womb, can't just clamp off
their feelings.  I knew that.  While the boat of love that Marie and I
boarded may have been leaky, the fact that we had created Bobby and Chrissy
would keep us bailing until the last moment.  Even now I still loved Marie
on some level.

   When she had gone off to "find herself", it became pretty clear what she
meant when the divorce papers arrived and the grounds were listed as
"irreconcilable differences." The return address turned out to be that of
another realtor in her firm.  I didn't fight it because, to be honest, if
she didn't want me, I didn't want her either.  I didn't LIKE her very much,
but she WAS the mother of our children.  The bond of father and mother
can't ever be broken completely.

   I didn't spy on them, but my imagination more than made up for that. 
Their heartfelt hugs and the way they practically cuddled on the couch
while we were watching TV made it obvious that they had accepted their new
relationship.  I remember once walking into the living room to find her
leaning back on the couch with her legs spread.  He was kneeling between
them and had raised her shirt up to bare her bulging belly.  His hands were
making little figure eights, just caressing the bulge, and he was talking
to his baby.  The look of love on her face was unmistakable.  It was almost
jarring to see a big, tough soldier being so gentle.

   I wouldn't find out until months later that, for the two weeks Bobby was
home, they didn't have sex.  They wanted to.  But everything was too new.
They had a lot to think about.  And, of course, Bobby was leaving again. 
There was a lot of wistfulness floating around in the house those two
weeks.

   Along with the oddness of the situation, there were other things that
happened that seemed completely normal.  They did go running together, for
example.  When they got back, both were gasping for air like I had been
after half a mile that first day I ran with her.  I'd never seen Chrissy
really out of breath.  Her face was red and she stood, bent over, her hands
on her knees, just breathing.  He was just as winded, though he walked
around in circles while he got his breath back.  It was clear they had
competed.  The only thing that complicated that perfectly domestic scene
was when, before he headed for the shower, he stopped to give her a
lingering kiss on the lips.  She put one hand on his stomach and pushed him
away from her.  "You're sweaty and you stink," she complained.

   It was that kind of very normal and very abnormal mixture of behavior
that made things seem so complicated.

   Another thing that complicated the situation was that Chrissy had to go
back to school.

   School was one of the things we agonized about.  We all knew that, when
she showed up pregnant, things would be hard for her.  Kids are among the
cruelest of human beings.  We knew that the baby would be delivered right
in the middle of her senior year, which would interrupt her studies.  It
wasn't going to be easy.  That was one reason it was good Bobby was there
when she first went back.  It was also good that everything was out in the
open at home, because Bobby could support her fully during that first tough
week of school.

   Then there was a moment of déjà vu as I drove Bobby to the airport again
and he boarded another plane to fly off to a place fifteen hundred miles
away.  Chrissy didn't go with us.  She had school.

   =================================

   Chrissy and I settled into the new routine of her being gone most of the
day.  I got my work done while she was at school, so we could spend more
time together when she got home.  She missed Bobby.  She'd missed him
before, but now she could do so completely.

   As a result, she ended up cuddling with me in front of the TV.  I wasn't
Bobby, but I was the next best thing.

   She was getting bigger and bigger, and it was harder for her to get
comfortable.  Sometimes she wanted to lie down, with her shoulders and head
on my lap.  A pillow helped.  That was what created the next step in our
family's little detour from the straight and narrow, at least as far as
society was concerned.

   I had to put my hand somewhere, and the most comfortable and natural
place to rest it was ...  her belly.

   The first time I rested my hand there it was a little weird.  I hadn't
touched her like that before.  Because it was weird I started to move my
hand somewhere else, but she captured it and held it there with both of her
hands.  I can't even remember what we were watching on TV.

   That became the norm.  She'd lie there with my hand on her belly,
sometimes putting her hands over mine and sometimes not.  One night I
remembered Bobby's hands stroking those figure eights over her bulge and my
hand just sort of copied that.  It felt good.  My grandson was under there,
sleeping, maybe, and it just felt good to stroke him.

   The first time he moved under my hand I about freaked out.

   "He moved!" I yelped.

   Chrissy laughed, because she'd been feeling movement for several days.
She hadn't said anything because she wasn't sure that it really WAS the
baby moving.  Things were getting pretty cramped in there and sometimes her
organs moved a little.

   Feeling the baby move became a new game.  I'd stroke her belly, trying
to spur the little tyke into motion.  When movement became more frequent,
it was only natural to pull her shirt up to watch the skin bulge and ripple
as the baby turned over or kicked or whatever.  Several times we could see
what was clearly a heel or elbow sliding across under her skin.

   December came and Bobby got some more leave.  He didn't tell us, but
surprised us instead, just showing up.  He was there when Chrissy got home
from school and I thought she'd go into labor, as excited as she was. 
Their kiss left nothing to the imagination, concerning how they felt about
each other.

   I stood by, the doting grandfather, as they broke that long, passionate
kiss and his hands went to explore what was twice as big as when he last
felt it.

   "He moves all the time now," said Chrissy excitedly.  "He's going to be
a runner, like me."

   "You're so big!" sighed Bobby.

   "It's your fault," she teased.

   Then his hands slid upwards to cup breasts that were half again as big
as they had been before.

   "These are getting big too," he said, grinning.

   I'm pretty sure they had forgotten all about me.  I felt like I was a
peeping Tom as his hands squeezed her teenaged breasts.

   "That's your fault as well," she said softly.  "And it's also your fault
that I'm horny all the time now.

   "Really," he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

   I turned to leave the room ...  to leave them alone ...  and ran smack
into the clothes tree standing behind me.  It went over and I tried to grab
it, but just tipped off balance and went down with it.  The next thing I
knew my children were pulling coats off of me, laughing.

   ==================================

   Bobby's second leave was completely different than his first, and I mean
COMPLETELY different.  I don't know if it's because they'd had time to
process the change in their relationship, or maybe because they'd both gone
without sex for seven months.

   It started with her asking him to put lotion on her belly.  He applied
himself with vigor.  I happened to be doing something on the computer, and
I don't know if that had anything to do with the escalation of things, but
when I got up to go get something to drink he was putting lotion on her
breasts too.

   Her shirt was up to her neck and her bra had been undone.  I had an
errant though of that Karate Kid movie, because it looked like Bobby was
doing wax on ...  wax off.  Chrissy's head was back on the couch and she
was humming.

   "That feels so much better when you do it," she sighed.  "I'm so horny,
Bobby."

   "I can't believe how big your nipples have gotten," he said softly. 
"The last time I saw them they were little pink things."

   "Everything on me is bigger because of you," she said a little
breathily.

   He leaned forward and sucked a nipple.  Her "Oooooo" was followed by her
head coming up and our eyes met.  She blinked, and then he sucked harder or
something because her mouth went slack and her hands came to his head to
pull him to her breasts.  She made a face and, looking right at me, mouthed
the word "sorry."

   I turned away, mostly because my cock was trying like crazy to burst
through my pants.  As I walked away I heard her say "Bobby, Daddy saw you!"

   I could just barely hear his response: "Mmmmmmm."

   ==================================

   I guess they either got too wound up, or they had come to grips with
this new relationship, because maybe five minutes later I heard them going
into her room, just down the hall from my home office.  She said "Bobby I
don't know if I CAN!" and he responded "We'll find a way." Her "But what
about Daddy?" was cut off by the door closing.

   It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what they had in mind.

   And my imagination should have sufficed ...  but it didn't.  I lasted
another five minutes, maybe, before I couldn't help becoming a voyeur.  I
know that social convention prohibits one from watching others do something
like what I was sure they were doing.  But social convention prohibits what
they were doing in the first place.  So I didn't feel all that bad as I
tiptoed to the door and cracked it open.  I wasn't trying to let them know
I was there, but then again, I don't think I cared if they DID know.

   I didn't intrude.  By that I mean I didn't go in the room.  I just
opened the door enough to see an amazingly beautiful naked, pregnant, young
woman, astride an equally amazingly beautiful naked young man.  I didn't
know then that this was only the second time they'd made love.  If I had
I'd have been even more amazed at how proficient she'd become in just five
minutes.  She'd settled on his youthful boner and was shoving her hips
forward and backward as if she'd done this a hundred times before.  He was
mauling her swollen breasts when I first opened the door, but his hands
slid down and became amazingly gentle as they smoothed over her jutting
belly.

   "Ohhhhh I needed this so badly," she moaned.

   "I love you," he whispered.  It wasn't clear whether he was talking to
the woman impaled on his thrusting rigid prick, or the baby in the belly he
was stroking.

   I don't know whether I'd seen enough, or I just wanted to return to the
social convention of not intruding, but I closed the door.  I do know I'll
never forget that scene.  It was as if a master painter had used my memory
as a canvas.  My cock was insanely hard, so I abandoned social convention
once more by going to my room, where I lay on my bed and imagined I was
Bobby.  Her cry of release came through the wall, or maybe the air
conditioning duct work, but as she came ...  I spurted jets of semen a foot
into the air.
   
