Paul wanted to kick himself for what he’d said. He looked around, hoping to see a black hole that would swallow him up. He wanted to be elsewhere but in this room, just to avoid the conversation. As he looked up at Joe, his heart sank into his boots upon seeing his stunned face. He had seen different emotions on that face: from fear to rapture, but never has he seen an expression of shock and confusion before. Paul instantly regretted having starting the conversation. He expected a reaction from Joe - rage or tears - but when no reaction came, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Joey…." Paul squeezed Joe’s hands tighter in his, wanting to let him know that he, no matter what, still cared about him. But the moment he did so, he only felt how cold Joe’s fingers had become. He gently rubbed his son’s hands. "Joe, please, don’t be so quiet. Tell me anything, just let me hear your voice!"

"You said…what you said…" Joe, stammering, said. "What…what was it? You weren’t serious, were you? It’s not true?"

"God, what wouldn’t I give for it not to be true!"

"No, I don’t get it!?"

Paul swallowed. "Joe, it’s hard to say it, but it’s true…I’m am sorry, but…It just happened."

"No, no, wait," Joe shook his head in protest. "It can’t be true for one main reason: you’ve always treated me like your own child. You couldn’t…I mean it would…"

"Joey, sweetheart, I will always, I repeat always, treat you like my own child!" Paul hurried to assure him. "If it ever mattered to me that your parents were not I and Stella, I would never have agreed to take you into my family."

All went silent. Joe could hardly understand what was going on. It just wouldn’t sink it. Paul has always been more than a father. He’d been a father, a mother, a brother and a best-friend. Such close relationships can’t exist between a father and a son if they’re not blood related! Moreover, Joe resembled Paul and no one ever had any doubts about who Joe took after: his father or mother. They even had the same type of blood. There were too many coincidences for two people who weren’t related!

"You’ll begin to disprove everything, advancing argument, for example, our resemblance," Paul was reading Joe’s mind, "but, incredible as it may seem, everything just coincided, no one ever doubted that you were my own son. It will always amaze me, but in any case…." He didn’t go on.

"No, I refuse to believe it! I don’t understand why you need to talk such nonsense!"

Paul knew from experience that no words could convince Joe of something he didn’t want to believe. That’s why he didn’t give any reply. He looked straight into his eyes. Maybe it would confuse Joe even more, because, in the course of time, they had learnt to understand each other without words. There were times when all they needed to do was to look into one another’s eyes to say everything. Such things seldom happened between non-related people.

This was one of those times when no words were needed.

"It’s not nonsense?" Joe mumbled, never taking his eyes off Paul. "No?"

Paul shook his head, "No, it’s not."

"How…could it happen?" Joe asked in a small voice, eyeing the man in front of him. "I never thought that…you must be wrong, this is…unbelievable."

Paul gently rubbed his fingers again, "That must be fate that we met each other when we needed it the most…Joey, I didn’t want to tell you this, I knew it was would hurt you, but you would learn it from me sooner or later anyway, so I…. I'm sorry. But the truth is that me and Stella never had our own kids."

"I just…" Joe freed his hands and put them on his temples. "I was ready to hear something awful… almost anything, but it’s even worse than I could dream of in a nightmare…not my parents?...Man, you’ve dumbfounded me…. "

"Sorry," Paul lowered his head.

"Sorry for what?"

"For the way you’re feeling now…Joe, I swear I never wanted to hurt you or do you wrong, but I couldn’t stop it. It was coming and I would have told you one-day anyway…So many times I planned how to tell you, but now that I have to say something, I don’t know how to tell you," Paul almost whispered. "God, what am I doing?…I shouldn’t have started this conversation…."

"Where did you get me from?" Joe asked the first question that came to his mind.

"From your parents."

"And who were they?"

"Honestly saying, I don’t know that much about them," Paul replied. "All I know is their names: John and Angela. That’s it. They didn’t tell me their surname or address or anything of that kind, because they said they were afraid you would start looking for them and they didn’t want to be found….Why? I don’t know," he spread his hands. "Maybe, they didn’t want to see you, brought up by other people; maybe, they didn’t care about your feelings; maybe there was another reason…what’s the difference? If they’d cared just a little bit about you, they wouldn’t have given you to me."

"And why did you agree to take me?"

"I needed a child. And I seized the first opportunity."

"I mean who were they to you if they knew you well enough to give me to you?" Joe pressed, his voice restrainedly monotone. If he let his emotions out, it would lead to a heated argument, which was the last thing they needed at the moment.

"I’d hadn’t met them before the day I got you and only once," Paul replied, his hands slightly shaking. "I'm telling you the truth! I met them upon them wanting to give their nine-month-old child to someone who would care for him better than they could. We talked for less than ten minutes and then they gave you to me and just walked away - I never saw them again."

"Are you telling me that they were just walking up and down the street offering me to everyone?" Joe mistrustfully raised his eyebrows. His emotions were getting the better of him, against his will to stay calm. He didn’t know whom he was angrier at: at Paul for telling him such stupid things or his so-called parents who could have possibly done that to their child.

"You don’t believe me, do you?" Paul quietly asked. "I can feel that you don’t trust me."

"And how would you feel if you were told such nonsense? Would you believe it?"

"Joe, it’s not nonsense. Yes, you’re right, I wouldn’t believe it either, but…but what can I say to make you believe?" Paul stopped to look at the boy in front of him. "Joe, have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes, you have! You’ve been lying to me for years!" Joe heatedly replied, glaring at Paul. "And I don’t know why I should believe you now!?"

Paul closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. Joe’s words cut him like a knife, but he knew he had to stay cool-headed. "Joe, I never lied to you," he quietly said moments later. "I never gave you a hint that I wasn’t your father, yes, but it’s not a lie to keep you from learning something you shouldn’t have known. The only thing I ever hid from you was this story…and I’m not creating it, believe it or not."

"Do you really think that I’m going to believe that these parents just gave away their son to the very first person they met?!" Joe exclaimed. "Are you taking me for a fool?"

"No, I am not taking you for a fool! Joe, please, listen to me," Paul pleaded. "I still can’t understand how they could sink into giving their son to somebody else, but that’s exactly what happened. It…it goes against human nature to do such a thing to a little child, but…I know you think that I'm trying to mud sling at those people and…and you’re kind of right because I am trying to do so, but I've got every reason to be mad at them…Joe, they were terrible people."

"And you think you’re any better? You took a child from their parents and you call them terrible??!"

"Joe, I am not saying it was right that I took you. I mean I wasn’t going to, but it just happened. And I didn’t take you from them, they gave you to me. It’s not the same."

Joe was shaking inwardly. Never in his life did he think he could be so livid at someone, and especially at the man whom he called a father. He desperately wanted to start throwing things in every direction just to let his anger out.

"Joe, I took you because I really needed a child…" Paul continued, taking Joe’s silence as an attempt at calming down.

Wrong – the question only drove Joe madder. "So you’re saying you bought me???"

"NO!!! God forbid, of course, no!" Paul waved his hands in protest. "Under no circumstances would I ever buy a human being!…" He’d never expected their conversation to become so heated. He knew Joe was fuming and he could see no way of stopping it. It seemed to Paul that every word he was saying was only enraging Joe more. 17 years of love were turning into hatred and he couldn’t stop it.

He decided to try for the last time. "God, Joe, please, don’t think of me that way! I’m not bad. Yes, I did get you illegally, but I never regretted it. I'm not going to justify myself, but…" he nervously tousled his hair. "Joe, please, listen to me…please, just calm down and listen to me. Please…when I’ve finished, say whatever you want, but please, don’t interrupt me now…this is hard for me, too…."

Hard for him too? Why should I care? Who is he to me after all? rushed through Joe’s mind. Then he caught sight of very upset Paul and his conscience screamed at him. Damn, what are you thinking of? He raised you - have some respect!

Joe took a deep breath in and out in order to cool down. His heart was ready to jump out of his chest, he could even feel a vein pulsating in his right temple. To relax his muscles he clenched and unclenched his fists and then when Joe felt more or less like listening, he leaned back against the sofa, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. "Go on. I'm listening."

"Thank you," Paul felt a weight lift off his shoulders, though he knew it was only the beginning. The worst still lay ahead.

He nervously licked his parched lips and had a sip from his cup of hot chocolate. "Okay, I'll try to explain everything…. Damn, where to begin?…alright…There’s another story - about why I needed a child. About me and Stella - when we got married, we didn’t even think of having children, because we weren’t sure we’d be able to afford everything a child would need. I was just a student at UCLA, working for a small company, so…we didn’t think of having a kid. We hoped that someday, when we had enough money, we’d adopt a child…."

"Why adopt?" Joe interrupted, his voice indicating he was still incensed. "Why not have your own kids?"

"Yes, right, I should explain that, too," Paul agitatedly nodded his head. "Well…when I was a kid, five years old or something, I became seriously ill with influenza. But my parents didn’t think it was so bad and serious, so they didn’t get the proper treatment in time and it led to several complications - one left me sterile. I would never be able to have my own children, never, and all because of a stupid infection…so unfair…" he bitterly chuckled. But then he quickly composed himself. "But it doesn’t really matter now. Back to the story…Um, then, three years after our wedding or so, Stella was diagnosed as suffering from a fatal form of cancer.

"I, I don’t want to talk about how it felt when she was dying, it’s so, it was so hard and…and…" finding no words to continue, Paul gave up. "Anyway, one night, when the end was already very near, I was sitting on her bed, watching her sleeping…and I suddenly thought that very soon there’d be nothing left of her. Nothing but her things, our photographs, my memories, other small things but, but nothing else. Like…like she was just going to pass away and leave me with nothing….

"That thought, it…it was so wrong, I wanted to do anything just not to be left without her, alone…and I remembered our dream of having a child. We hadn’t thought of adoption when she was sick, we had other things on our minds, but that night…I thought it was the only way to have something left of her even after her death…I suddenly wanted to have a real family at least for a short period of time: a little child, me as a daddy and Stella as a mommy. I thought that if we spent some time together it would unite us…Now that I look back, remembering that night and I understand that I didn’t really want to become a father, I just…I didn’t want to lose Stella…

"So, well," he swallowed, "the next morning we discussed it and she agreed with me. And later that day I went to an orphanage to adopt a little boy…but was told that it would take almost a month to have all the documents completed. We didn’t have much time, there were only days left for her to live. And then I was told that because my wife was non-American, and was terminally ill, I was to be refused adoption anyway…

"So I went outside, frustrated and in despair… I was going home to tell Stella the news, and I met a couple near the orphanage. The man told me that he and his wife, who held a baby in her arms, couldn’t keep their child any longer and that they wanted to give him to a family that would care for him…" Paul stopped, replaying the scene in his mind. "And then…then I did what I never thought I'd ever do:…I agreed. They, well, they told me your name and the date of birth, gave you to me and…and walked away…"

He looked at Joe to see a reaction, but he couldn’t say anything, because Joe sat motionless, his eyes staring at the ceiling. It was obvious he was listening, but Paul could only guess what was on his adopted son’s mind. He couldn’t even tell if Joe was still mad or not.

They sat in silence for some moments. The only sound to be heard being that of the raindrops on the windowpane. Paul held the cup in his hands tighter to warm them, but it didn’t help because the cup was almost cold anyway.

"Why did you stop?" Joe asked, still motionless. "What happened next?"

"Next?… Well, I only understood what I had gotten myself into once I’d been left alone with you in my arms…I grew scared and…and even wanted to find your parents and give you back to them - but they were already far away….and when I looked at your peaceful face, I realized I was in a quandary. If I gave you back to them there would be no guarantee that they wouldn’t give you to a criminal or just abandon you somewhere – that didn’t seem right, you were just a child, you didn’t deserve any of what was happening to you…and when I looked up again, your parents were already nowhere to be seen…they were gone…for good. That’s how I got my wish….

"When I told Stella about how I had gotten you, she reacted the exact same way you did. But then she took you in her arms and went silent…and I knew that she had instantly fallen in love with you. She looked like a real mother, and if you saw her smile you’d understand why I never regretted taking you from those people," Paul’s lips curled into a smile as he remembered those days. "When you appeared in our lives Stella was already very weak, but whenever she saw you her eyes would start sparkling so brightly and she would smile all the time…We did become a real family, somehow we felt like real parents from the very first day we got you, it was like you were our own child…everything was so good…I even started thinking that a miracle would somehow happen and she would recover from her incurable illness…"

His smile faded away and sadness filled his eyes, "But the miracle didn’t happen…. Stella died twenty-two days after you came into her life. She just fell asleep one night and never woke up…and I thought I'd died with her. In fact, I really wanted to, I wanted to cut my veins, and was even once close to that…. It was, um, a week, yes, a week, after her death that I took a razor and…." he nervously licked his lips. " I was close to do the last movement when you stopped me. You were hungry, because I hadn’t cared much about you after her death. So, you started to cry and I went to soothe you, forgetting about what I was going to do…and when I took you in my arms, I remembered my promise. I had promised Stella that I would always care for you, like a real father, that I would always be good to you…and when you finally fell asleep in my arms, I felt so…so stupid. I had taken you because I wanted to have a replacement for Stella, and had almost committed suicide…silly, isn’t it? I was supposed to be caring for you and instead was pitying myself…

"But after that day, everything changed. At first, I only cared about you because I felt like I owed it to Stella, then…then it became a habit. Then one day, when you were about two years old, you called me ‘daddy’ while walking on your own to me, I then understood that I loved you, that…that without you I was…was…It’s like when you were not with me, I missed you, and when I was with you, I wanted time to stop so that I could be happy forever…" Paul chuckled. "I still felt miserable," he confessed, "but the thought that I was making someone else happy got me through. And later it began making me happy, too…somehow I managed to get over Stella’s death, and if it wasn’t for you, I know I would never have been able to do that…"

Paul stopped to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t put everything he wanted into words, but at the same time he wanted to say everything. Most of all he wanted to let Joe know that he’d always loved him - but he wasn’t sure Joe would believe him now.

"Joe, I can’t…I can’t judge myself, but…I think I was a good father. At least I’m sure I was better than John could ever have been! Now that you know everything, you might still believe I never loved you or didn’t care about you, that I kept you just to conveniently keep my promise to Stella…but…believe it or not, I accepted Stella’s death a long time ago. I can’t control my feelings, if I really feel that I don’t care about whether I’m your father, then it is so…. I wish you would feel the same way too, now that you know everything…."

Joe was still resting in the same pose, unmoving and biting his lips. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, until Paul finally said, "You may believe or not believe me, but that’s my story. If you think I’ve imagined everything – well, you have every to believe that and blame me for everything…. But…but please, I'm asking you, before you judge me, think about everything. Think about what you would do if you were in my shoes, and then maybe you’ll understand me… Want me to tell you anything else?" he asked. "Perhaps, I've forgotten something important I’ve missed out?"

"Tell me one thing," Joe asked in a small voice.

"What?"

"I…I still don’t get one thing. Why did you need to create the story about Stella dying the moment I was born? You could have told me the truth about cancer and thus this unpleasant evening would have never come…"

"Hard to explain…" Paul rubbed his tired eyes. "I think…I think I tried to convince myself that she gave her life to save yours, that…that she kind of lived in you. I am not sure if you understand what I mean, but…. After her death I wanted to start a new life, and because you were my new life I wanted to, well, sort of…leave Stella in the past, but at the same time I couldn’t let go of her easily, I wanted to feel her near me, um, us, I mean, always, and…do you understand what I mean?" Paul hopefully looked at Joe.

Joe only shrugged his shoulders.

That was what Paul feared most of all. He was afraid that, once Joe knew everything, he would turn away from him and shut him out. So when Joe shrugged his shoulders, indicating he didn’t care, it meant that Paul’s fears had come true. He felt chills running up and down his spine and froze inside as he assumed that everything he’d built was crashing down…

And there was still one thing left, more terrible than this.

"Joe, I understand that you can’t understand and accept everything now, but there’s one question I want to ask you…what are you going to do now you know everything?" Paul asked, dreading the possible answer.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…do you want to start searching?"

"For whom? My real parents?…" Joe’s eyes were studying the ceiling. "I don’t know…I really don’t know anything, anymore…and truth be told, I don’t want to know anything."

"Okay…." Paul breathed, feeling somewhat better. "But if you come up with any questions, please, let me know…."

"I know why you want to know. You’re afraid that I’ll pack my things later and leave, aren’t you? You’re afraid that I'll leave you in order to find my real parents…"

"Right. I mean, kind of right, because…Joe, I don’t want to lose you. I’m not ready….and that’s why I wanted to tell you everything once you’d reached eighteen – when you wouldn’t have needed my help to act on your own…because I don’t think I’d be able to help you find them…"

Joe remained silent for some moments. He was too lost in his confused emotions and troubled mind to come up with a decision right now. "Don’t ask," he finally said. "Not now. I can’t answer now. I don’t know what I'll do."

"Okay, I won’t press you," Paul replied. "But remember that I’m always on your side, no matter what your decision."

"Okay, I’ll remember that…" Joe swallowed, wishing he could just as easily swallow his pain. "But, may I ask you for something?"

"Anything you want," Paul roused.

"Please…can you please leave me on my own? I want to be left alone," Joe’s eyes were still studying the ceiling. He didn’t want Paul to see confusion and pain in his eyes.

Paul wanted to stay, but at the same time wanted Joe to have some time to think about everything. They both needed to think about everything. "Yeah," he agreed seconds later. "Sure…." He patted Joe’s knee and arose from the floor.

"If you want to talk, you know where to find me," he added on his way out.

"I do," came the short reply.

Paul nodded and left, feeling as miserable as the day Stella died – it seemed to him that today he’d lost Joe as well.

"Now’s the time you were returned to your owner," Paul Stevenson sadly appealed to the thing he had got out of a small box. Although he knew it would only upset Joe more, he still wanted to give it to him. He saw no reason to keep it hidden anymore.

He repeated the words he wanted to say to Joe when giving the thing to him and walked out of the bedroom and went downstairs.

Half an hour had passed since their uneasy conversation. Paul spent all that time in his bedroom, pacing back and forth. He attempted to come up with a good idea for what they both should do now, but nothing came to mind, which only kept him wondering what Joe was doing, thinking or planning.

As he came downstairs he noticed the front door was ajar. He glanced into the living room and saw no one there. Guessing where Joe was, Paul took his son’s parka that was on the tab and stepped outside. Just as he expected, Joe was sitting on the porch, his left elbow on his knees and his chin on his hand.

Paul felt a knife twist in his heart as he considered how lost and sad Joe looked. He felt even worse when he thought that not only had he been the reason for his son’s troubled thoughts, but that he would also never know what he was thinking about.

He threw the parka over Joe’s shoulders, "It’s pretty chilly…Put it on."

"Thank you," Joe quietly replied, pushing his arms into the sleeves.

Paul sat next to him and took a deep breathe in. Fresh air felt so good, every gulp of cool air made his head clearer. It was already pitch dark; thick clouds were covering the sky. In big cities such clouds would reflect the city lights and the sky would seem pretty light even at night and one could always see how the clouds scud. But because Bayport was a small town, the sky seemed only darker because of the rain-clouds. It was such a still night: no movements, no sounds, just silence. Even the wind wasn’t blowing. Paul suddenly felt awestruck. A car drove down the road, the tires rustled on the wet asphalt. Then it became oddly silent again.

Paul looked to his left, at Joe’s profile. Joe, in his turn, was dumbly prodding with a stick he had picked up. His face told his father nothing of what was on his mind.

"Nice evening," Paul started, inhaling deeply. "I almost forgot what it felt like to breath pure air. The air here is not like in Chicago, is it?"

Joe managed a weak smile in reply.

"However," Paul went on, "I won’t deny that I’d rather was in Chicago now…I wish everything could be like before…maybe, it’s worth going back?"

"And what about you job?" Joe quietly asked. "You only just started."

"Nah, it’s nothing important. I don’t really care if I don’t get promoted, because I'll be gladly accepted back at my previous place, anyway."

Joe looked up at the clouded sky, as if trying to see anything to say to Paul there. "Do you really think that if we go back everything will be back to its normal self?" he sadly asked moments later.

"I don’t know," his father replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But you know, the longer we stay here the more I think we shouldn’t have come. We never had any problems before - they only started once we’d moved here. This town must be bewitched. In Chicago I felt like I was home and here I only feel that we’re one too many."

"There’d be no difference if you told me about…about everything in Chicago or in Bayport or elsewhere…It still doesn’t change anything," Joe said. "You’re still not my father and I'm still not your son…"

"You’ve always been and always will be, my son," Paul argued, determination in his voice. "I said I didn’t care if your parents were other people and it’s true."

"And I can’t cast my feelings aside, I care! I can’t…I can’t accept it all! I don’t want to, for that matter," Joe replied, tears in his voice. "I can’t understand my parents who gave me away…If they hadn’t, everything would have been okay now."

"Is it not okay?" Paul whispered. "Haven’t I given you everything? Haven’t you been happy with me?"

"Yes, I have, but…but it’s not the same! How can I know what to feel now? How should I treat you now? What should I do? None of these questions would have been bothering me now if they hadn’t given me away."

"Don’t think about what to feel. Just feel it. And then think."

"Dad…sorry, Paul…sorry…damn it, I don’t even know how to call you now!" Joe ran a hand through his hair. "Jeez, why did it have to happen with me? Why not another kid?"

"You know, I never asked myself that question. Moreover, I was always happy that it was you, not another kid."

"Of course, you don’t have a problem with it! If you did, you’d understand me."

"I had other problems instead," Paul replied, looking aside. "Like, how to always understand a boy whom I was raising. Or understand the people who had given him to me. Or where to get money to give that boy everything I never had when I was a kid. Or how to tell him that he wasn’t my real son when the time comes. And how to handle it afterwards…Joe, we’re in this together. Believe it or not, this is hard for me, too…"

Joe swallowed. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts and emotions that he’d forgotten about Paul’s feelings. He rubbed his forehead, "You know, I was thinking about everything, I wanted to find the answers to all of my question…but it’s only made me more and more confused…I don’t know what I want and what I don’t. I want somebody to give a sign to show me which direction I should go, but the more I think about things, the more mixed up it gets…everything’s so confused and complicated…."

"Well…I'm sorry to say it, but I’m going to confuse you even more now," Paul extended his arm to give Joe the thing he wanted to return to him. "This was your parents’. They forgot to take it off your neck when they gave you to me. Or maybe they didn’t want to take it off…anyway, it’s yours…"

Joe instinctively reached out his hand to take a golden chain with a locket that looked like a smiling sun. He didn’t know if it was from the cold or from a sudden anxiety, but his hands were shaking while he was scrutinizing the chain. "May God always bless you," was etched on one side the locket. On the other side, a sun was smiling at him.

As if fascinated, Joe stared at the simple writing; feeling tears stinging in his eyes. To stop them from falling, he sniffed several times, but it didn’t help much because only more tears appeared. Before they started flowing down his cheeks, he wiped them with his sleeve. The chain tore at his heart. To know that his parents didn’t care about him and gave him to an unknown man…but at the same time wished him to be always blessed…it was more than he could take…

Paul suddenly wanted to cry, too. This real, yet not real father…but he’d always cared about Joe’s feelings. And when he was hurt, he could almost physically feel his pain. So, every time (though it didn’t happen often) when he saw tears in his son’s eyes, he always wanted to cry too.

Paul put a comforting arm around Joe’s shoulders and patted his shoulder. "Someday somehow everything will be back to normal, we’ll get through this," he whispered.

Joe laid his head on his father’s shoulder. He managed to hold his tears back, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful chain that was in his hands. It was the last and only thing that connected him to his parents.

"Maybe, I should have given this chain to you years ago," Paul said. "But I couldn’t have said it was a present from me. It wouldn’t have been fair…it’s beautiful…"

Joe didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He could feel the tears in his throat, and they wouldn’t let him speak.

They sat like that for several minutes, both unsure of what they should do. Finally Paul gently kissed the top of Joe’s head, "I love you, son…." he whispered into Joe ear and tousled his blond hair. "Don’t ever forget it."

Joe only wiped more tears from his face. Could he really say to Paul that he loved him when he was no one to him? Should he say it?

"Okay," Paul let go of him upon received no reply. "It’s already very late. We’ve got to wake up early tomorrow. Whatever happens between us, it doesn’t mean that you have a right or an excuse not to go to school or that I can stay at home instead of going to work, so, come on, stand up. Let’s go inside? Drink some hot tea and warm up?"

"I’ll be there in…be there in a moment," Joe replied in a hoarse voice. "Give me…give me some minutes. Please."

"Sure, but don’t be too late, it’s cold and I don’t want you to get sick with the flu or something," Paul said in his usual stern voice of a father. It made Joe smile weekly. He was always amazed at how Paul could handle everything and compose himself in seconds when needed. "And don’t sit on the cold porch. I once sat like that and ended up with you in my life, so don’t repeat my mistakes. After all, I want to have grandchildren someday. Not too soon, though."

"Give me just five minutes…" Joe said. "I swear I won’t sleep right here," he tried to joke.

"If you swear, then please, but only five minutes!" Paul patted his son’s shoulder and disappeared into the house.