“It’ll be awhile yet, Granddad,” she replied, “Maybe before summer. I hope so, anyway. I’m not looking forward to being preggers in the heat.”

John placed his hand on her flat belly and bent down.

“Hello,” he said. “It’s yer great granddad here--when’re ye comin’ out t’ play?”

“Auntie Emily will probably have her baby first,” Little Mary told her grandfather. “She always has them early.”

“Hey, Dad,” George said as he entered the room. “Talkin’ to that baby again? No wonder they’re always so enchanted with ya when they’re finally born. They already know ya. Hey, I’ve got news,” he added. “I’m finally gonna be a dad myself. Bridget just found out this afternoon.”

“It’s about time,” John told his son. “I was wonderin’ if ye’d ever break down and ask her to marry ye. I suppose you’ll be married now, though, won’t ye?”

“Yeah,” sighed George. “We will. I guess I’ve known for a while that I was gonna ask her, I was just waitin’ for the right time. I’m gonna ask her tonight. In fact, I got the ring last week. Look at this.” He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it.

John whistled. “Nice,” he said. “So, yer sure Bridget’ll say yes, are ye?”

“Dad, she’s pregnant! Of course she will.”

“I guess yer right,” John said, lighting a cigarette. “Yer what--forty-four now? It’s about bloody time ye settled down.”

“I settled down four years ago. I knew then that she was the one,” George replied. “I just didn’t wanna jinx it by makin’ it official.”

“On yer way t’ ask her now, are ye?” asked John.

“Yeah, she just called me and told me the results of her test. Seems like the right time to me,” said George. “See ya, Dad.”

“Let me know how it works out for ye, son.”

***

After George had gone, John wandered into the kitchen, where Mary was in the middle of fixing supper.

“Hi, baby,” she said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Isn’t there always?” he asked. “C’mere, woman.” He took her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “Are ye busy right now?”

“Everything’s on its own for a few minutes. What did you have in mind?” she asked.

He sat down and pulled her into his lap. “Yer leavin’ yerself wide open with talk like that, darlin’,” he chuckled.

“You never change,” she told him. “I swear you’ll be making passes at me when we end up in the rest home.”

“I’m not goin’ t’ any rest home,” he informed her. “Our kids c’n take care of us when we get decrepit. Why d’ye think I always insist on keepin’ ‘em all so close by?” He kissed her again, and Mary could feel that it was having a definite effect on him.

“Because you love them all so much; no other reason--and you know it,” she replied. “So do they.”

“C’n ye turn th’ oven down or summat?” he asked her. “I’d like t’ have yer undivided attention for a few minutes. Where’s Little Mary?”

“She’s gone over to see her mother,” she replied. “They’re going through some websites looking at baby things.”

“So no one’s here, then.”

“Only you and me,” Mary told him. “I think I can turn everything off for a little while, if you’d like me to.”

“I would,” he said, kissing her again.

Mary turned off the stove and John looked down at her. “I’d carry ye,” he said, “But me arthritis is actin’ up pretty good tonight. I kinda miss sweepin’ ye offa yer feet, Miss Mary.”

“Darling,” she told him, “You sweep me off my feet every day. You haven’t missed a day in forty nine years.”

***

“Alone at last,” whispered John once he had closed their bedroom door.

“No one should be coming back until fairly late tonight,” Mary told him. “We won’t be interrupted.” She got into bed and he lay beside her, gathering her into his arms with the same old hunger and enthusiasm.

“Mmmm, that’s nice,” he said softly. “Ye still turn me on like no one else ever did, Miss Mary.”

“I need you,” she whispered. “Now and forever.”

“Yer gonna get me,” he replied, his hands traveling over her body, removing her clothing with practiced ease.

Mary opened to him eagerly as she always had, sighing when he slid inside of her, wrapping her arms around him to draw him closer still. He moved with easy grace, the years falling away as they lost themselves in the feeling that never ceased to amaze them and never lessened in intensity.

Mary looked up into his face; he was still achingly beautiful, his eyes burning into hers as he moved within her, the muscles in his arms and shoulders moving smoothly and tirelessly beneath her hands.

Mary was close. “I’m ready for you, baby,” she whispered, her eyes on his. “Take me with you.”

He groaned and sped his pace, giving her everything he had, the sensations rising in both of them. Mary uttered a soft cry and arched against him, and he let go and allowed himself to finish. The feeling rose, spilled over, and slowly receded, leaving them breathing hard, tangled together, sharing soft, breathless kisses.

“You were wonderful,” Mary told him.

“Ye always inspire me, woman,” he told her softly.

***

“This is a nice restaurant,” said Bridget. “You must be pretty happy about the baby.”

“It’s wonderful news,” George said. “I was beginnin’ to wonder if my name would ever be carried on at all...Bridget, I brought you here for more than just to celebrate about the baby. I have somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to ask ya.”

He reached into his pocket and brought out the ring box.

Bridget’s eyes grew wide when she saw it. George opened the box and held it so that she could see the ring inside.

“Will ya marry me, Bridget?” he asked softly.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you ask me that question, George,” she replied. There were tears in her eyes, and she dabbed them away with the corner of her napkin. “I can’t do it, though.”

George was thunderstruck.  “Why not?” he asked. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do, but you’re only asking me now because of the baby. I’m not marrying you just because you think it’s the right thing to do, or you think you have no choice. If you’d only asked me yesterday, I would have been happy to say yes. The way it is, I just can’t do it. I’m sorry, George.”

He snapped the box shut and dropped it into his pocket, his eyes blazing with hot, sudden anger.  “Fine,” he growled. “Have it your way. I love ya, Bridget, and I asked you because I think we belong together. If you wanna get all technical and give me attitude, though, I suppose we’re better off forgetting the whole idea. Excuse me for wanting to do the right thing. I guess I just thought you’d be happy. Obviously I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

“George,” Bridget began, “ It’s not that I don’t love you; I do. I’m almost thirty...what do you think the chances are of my getting another marriage proposal at this stage of my life? I read that the chances are better that I will be run over by a bus than getting married once I pass thirty. You’re offering something I’ve wanted with all my heart for the past three years, but I can’t do it if it’s only because you feel obligated by the baby.”

She struggled to keep her composure and nearly lost it. “I want it to be because you want to, not because you feel you should,” she added.

“Just forget it,” he said stubbornly. “Are ya done eatin’? I’ll take ya fuckin’ home.”

***

John looked up from the paper he was reading when George came in.

“Home so soon?” he asked. His son did not look happy.

“She fuckin’ said no,” George said. “Can you believe that?”

“Did she give ye a reason?” asked John.

George sat beside his father with a sigh. “She said she couldn’t do it as long as it was just because I found out she was pregnant,” he replied. “She said that if I’d asked her yesterday, she’d have said yes.”

“You told her it was because of th’ baby? God’s wristwatch, lad, are ye daft? Didn’t ye buy th’ ring before ye ever found out she was preggers?”

“Yes, but she fuckin’ pissed me off, Dad. I just took her home an’ left her there.”

“Tactical error, son,” John told him. “Ye oughta go an’ call th’ gurrl. Ye could lose her. Better yet, get yer fuckin’ arse over there an’ tell ‘er yer an idgit. Tell ‘er ye had th’ ring yesterday an’ already had planned on askin’ her.” He gave George’s shoulder a gentle push. “Get goin’, lad,” he said with a smile. “Go get her t’ reconsider. Ye know it’s what ye wanna do. Don’t let yer fuckin’ pride stand in yer way. Yer not gettin’ any younger.”

George considered his father’s words, and after a moment he managed a weak smile.  “Yeah, you’re right, Dad,” he admitted, hauling himself to his feet. “ I am an idiot. Thanks. I’ll see ya in the mornin’ if it works out for me. If I come right back, I’ll be headin’ downstairs to raid the bar.”

John watched him go, smiling and shaking his head.

***

George stood outside Bridget’s door, his hand raised to knock. Inside, he could hear her crying.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “I’m a bastard.” He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice hitching.

“It’s me,” he replied. “Let me in, Bridget, please. I’ve gotta talk to ya.”

She opened the door slowly.  “Come in,” she said, “But please don’t take too long. I have to get up in the morning; I have to work tomorrow.”

“Thanks for givin’ me a chance to talk to ya, baby,” he said quietly. “C’mon, let’s sit down.”

She followed him to the couch and sat beside him. He went to take her into his arms and she shied away.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” she reminded him. “What did you want to say?”

“Bridget, you know I love you,” he began. “You’ve gotta know that. I know I asked you to marry me after I found out about the baby, but girl, I’ve had the ring for over a week. I was just tryin’ to find the right moment to ask you, and when you told me about the baby, it seemed like the right time. If I was wrong I’m sorry; I never meant to make you feel bad. I asked you because I love ya, girl, and I’m askin’ ya again, here and now.” He slid off the couch onto one knee and took the ring from his pocket again.

“Please, Bridget, marry me. I’ll make ya happy, I promise. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. You’re the only one I need.” He lowered his eyes and whispered, ”Please, love, say yes.”

“You really bought the ring more than a week ago?” she asked, her eyes searching his face.

“I did. I’ve got the receipt; I’ll prove it to ya,” he told her, reaching for his wallet.

Bridget covered his hand with hers.  “No, you don’t have to do that. I believe you,” she said with a shy smile. “I love you too, George. Yes. I will marry you.”

She extended her hand and he slipped the ring onto her finger. His heart was pounding, and he got to his feet and pulled her up into his arms, kissing her deeply. She sighed and melted against him, losing herself in his kiss. She could feel him throbbing insistently against her belly, and she pushed against him encouragingly.

With a deep moan, he lifted her and carried her to the bed, laying her across it and stripping his clothes off , dropping them to the floor. He removed her nightgown slowly and took her into his arms . She opened herself to him with quiet joy, answering his kiss with passion equal to his own. He mounted her and she shivered as he entered her, closing her eyes with a soft moan as his hot, eager hands ran over her body.

He moved within her rapidly, carrying her with him to a place where nothing existed except the sensations and sounds of their lovemaking.

Bridget moved with him, meeting him thrust for thrust, clinging to him as though she was afraid he might disappear.

“Are ya close, baby?” he asked, breathing hard.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes, love. I need you now.”

George closed his eyes and picked up speed, slamming into her as though both their lives depended upon it. She cried out and clutched him, and he let himself go, pouring his love into her with a hoarse cry that sounded vaguely like her name.

When he rolled to the side, he took her with him, keeping her close against his body, kissing her face and neck tenderly, whispering that he loved her. It was nearly daylight by the time they finally fell asleep.

***

The next morning, George came home with Bridget in tow. They had stopped at the office where she worked to tell them that she was quitting.

“Well, look who’s here,” said John, pushing away from the table and clapping his son on the shoulder. “I presume congratulations are in order.”

“They are,” George told him. “We’re gettin’ married this weekend, actually.”

“That’s bloody marvelous, son,” John said. He turned to Bridget and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Congratulations,” he told her. “I have to tell ye, I think me son chose well. Yer a lovely gurrl, Bridget, an’ perfect for him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just gonna go let yer mum in on th’ news.”

After a moment, John’s head popped back around the kitchen door.  “Hey, I just thought o’ summat!” he said happily. “I don’t hafta pay for this one!” He disappeared again, laughing as he went. Of course he would, though; Bridget’s parents were gone and the girl was alone in the world apart from George.

***

The following Saturday, everyone was assembled in the back garden for George and Bridget’s wedding. John stood beside his son as best man, and Little Mary, who had introduced Bridget to her uncle, was matron of honor.

Since Bridget’s parents had died when she was a teenager, Paul was appointed to walk her down the aisle and give her away.

The wedding march began, played by Bobby on his guitar, and Paul and Bridget came out of the house.

George watched her approach, his eyes shining with love for her. John sought Mary out with his eyes; she was close to tears already, but she smiled up at her husband and son.

After the vows had been said, George lifted the veil from Bridget’s shining face, ran his fingers through her long, flowing, jet black hair, and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

“I’ll make you happy, baby,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you forever.”

The priest stepped forward.  “May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. George Raymond Lennon,” he said loudly. “Married at long last!”

George looked at his father.

“I didn’t tell him to say that,” John said. “Although I entirely agree. It really is about bloody time. Congratulations, Bridget--ye got him. I was beginnin’ t’ wonder if anyone would ever inspire this wild lad o’ mine t’ settle down. Both o’ his sisters were married before they were outta their teens, an’ here he is well inta his forties.”

“Well,” George told hid father, “I wanted to be sure I found the right girl--like you and Mum. I wanted the perfect girl for me, and it took until I was forty to find her. The last four years were just the time I needed to work up the nerve to ask her.”

Mary came up and kissed her son and her new daughter in law.  “Welcome to our family, Bridget,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together, and I’m that proud to have you as a daughter.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lennon,” she replied.

“What’s this ‘Mrs. Lennon’ crap?” John asked. “That’s yer name now, too. Ye’d better get used t’ callin’ us Mum an’ Dad.”

“Thank you,” Bridget said, wiping away a tear. “Thank you, Mum and Dad. I’ve missed having parents. I’m happy to have you both.”

Bridget was welcomed by the entire family and congratulated by all of John’s former bandmates and their families.

The former Beatles took up their instruments and played for the wedding reception, just as they always did when one of their families celebrated a new marriage. Mary stood back and watched John on the makeshift stage, amazed as always by how the years fell away from the four men whenever they played their music together. A crowd had gathered outside the fence that enclosed the garden, and after George and Bridget had cut the cake, Julia, Emily, and Little Mary passed pieces wrapped in napkins through the fence to the uninvited guests.

***

John and Mary’s family had grown to include nineteen members, with three more soon to come. Julia and Bobby, now living a few houses away from Ringo and his family, had four children and were expecting their first grandchild. Emily and Stephen had five children and were expecting their sixth and presumably final baby. George now had his Bridget and was expecting his first child.

Emily and Stephen were now living two houses away with their triplets, Stephen Jr., Margaret, and Stuart, as well as their other children, Meagan and Richard. Little Mary and her husband David, currently expecting their first child, were living in the flat previously occupied by Emily and Stephen. Julia and Bobby lived a couple streets away, near Ringo’s house with their remaining two children, Little John and Paul Matthew. Robby was engaged and living in Emily’s old room in the main house.George and Bridget would be staying in Bobby and Julia’s vacated flat. John would not hear of having his family scattered, and they were all content to remain nearby. He sometimes joked about buying a large island somewhere and establishing his own country, with himself as king, but Mary loved their house and did not want to even think of giving it up.

“No problem,” John said with a wink. “We’ll just have th’ whole fuckin’ house moved, people do it all the time!”

***

John spent a lot of time in front of his computer discussing the Beatles with their fans. He wondered what they would think if they were to find out that they were speaking to one of their idols. All of his former bandmates periodically logged on to Beatles websites, of which there were still a surprisingly large number even in 2016, under aliases and discussed everything from how the band got together to why they finally decided to call it quits. There were even a few who remembered the Blue Algae Skyline phenomenon and had websites devoted to proving that that the Beatles and BAS were the same band.

Paul was particularly amused by the sites which set out to prove that he had died back in the sixties, and he often engaged in spirited discussions with the forum members who maintained that he was, in fact, long deceased.

All four men were fascinated with Beatles sites of all descriptions, from discussion forums to fan fiction sites. Paul especially liked these last, for there were always plenty of stories in which he was celebrated as a romantic hero. Unfortunately, his three friends, especially John, sometimes teased him unmercifully about these stories. Paul countered by suggesting that they were jealous because there were so many more stories about him than there were about any of the others.

John’s favorites were the sites dealing with the Beatles music, especially those concerned with explaining the meanings of and messages hidden in their song lyrics. He would come up with the wildest and most ridiculous “theories”, then sit back and watch the fun as a lively discussion ensued.

The band and it’s former individual members enjoyed a sustained popularity even now, well after half a century had come and gone since they had acheived worldwide fame.

***

Bridget was a welcome addition to the Lennon household, cheerfully doing many of the things that Mary found difficult with the arthritis in her hands. She reminded John of his wife in her younger years, and it amused him that his son had married a girl who was so much like his mother. A week after her marriage, the Savages went on tour, and Bridget accompanied her husband. She was missed by everyone. The quiet girl fit so perfectly into the family that it was hard to imagine that she had not been born into it.

One night towards the end of the tour, George called from Dublin, near hysteria.

“Dad,” he said, his voice tight with panic, “ Bridget’s been taken to hospital...I’m there now, but they won’t let me near her. Dad, she’s been shot.”

John was astonished.

“Why th’ fuck would anyone wanna hurt Bridget?” he asked. “How bad is it? Did they get whoever did it?”

“We were on our way to our car, leaving the hotel, and someone fired several shots. Some people in the crowd got the shooter and took her gun, but I don’t know the story yet. The police are on their way over here to fill me in. Dad, I’m dead scared...what if she doesn’t make it?”

“When did they bring her in?” asked John. Mary had come over and was holding his arm, looking up into his worried face.

“We’ve just been here a few minutes. They took her right to surgery. No one’s come out yet.

Please, Dad, stay on the phone with me until they come out and tell me--” George’s voice hitched as he choked back a sob. “Until they tell me how bad it is.”

“Did ye say it was a woman who shot her?” asked John, incredulous.

“Yeah. They think she’s just an obsessed fan who didn’t like the idea of my bein’ married. Dad, what’m I gonna do if I lose her?”

“Don’t think about that, son, ye don’t know how bad it is yet. Maybe she’ll be okay.”

“Dad, stay with me. Someone’s comin’ outta the surgery.”

There was a long silence on the phone, then George’s voice came back.

“Dad? You still there?”

“Course I am, lad. What’s happenin’?”

“She’s gonna be okay. She’s got a punctured lung and they had to take a bullet out of her thigh, but she’s all right. The baby’s okay too. Thanks for bein’ there, Dad. I hafta go now; the police are here. I’ll call you back as soon as they’re through with me.”

“All right, son. Call us when you find anything out, and give Bridget our love when ye get to see her. Yer mum wants to talk to ye, so be sure t’ call back just as soon as ye can,” John told him. He turned the phone off and went into the living room to sit on the couch, pulling Mary down into his lap.

“Why would anyone wanna hurt Bridget?” he asked again. “Mary, she’s gonna be okay, but she was shot twice. It was a woman who shot her.”

“Is the baby all right?” she asked. “How is George holding up?”

“He’s pretty shook up, but he’s better now that he knows she’ll be all right,” replied John. “The baby is fine. She has a punctured lung and there was a bullet in her leg. The police are talkin’ to him now, an’ he says he’ll call back as soon as they’re through with him.”

Mary pressed her face against her husband’s shoulder.  “Thank God she’s all right,” she whispered. “Baby, why would anyone do such a thing? Bridget never hurt anyone in her life.”

“The assumption is that it’s a deranged fan,” he replied. “Some woman who didn’t like th’ idea o’ George bein’ married.”

Mary shivered.  “John, that’s horrible,” she whispered. “What if someone tries to hurt Julia?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” he told her. “She and Bobby have been together since before he hit it big. His fans have accepted her. George just got married, and apparently someone didn’t like the idea. There are a lot of awfully sick people out there, Mary. Look at Stevie’s mum. I breathed a sigh o’ relief when she passed a few years back.”

“I guess I’ll feel better once I get a chance to talk to him myself,” Mary said, settling deeper into John’s warm, strong arms. “Thank God the tour is almost over. He’ll be home in a few days.”

***

A while later, John was watching the news on television.

“Mary, come on in here,” he called. “The lead story’s about Bridget.”

 “Mrs. Lennon suffered a punctured lung and a wound to her right thigh, but she is expected to make a full recovery,” the anchorman said. “The remainder of the tour will go on as planned. Mr. Lennon was unavailable for comment.”

On the screen behind the newsdesk, George could be seen in the hospital corridor, waving the reporters away. He said something accompanied by a rude hand gesture and the camera was apparently turned off.

“Police have the shooter in custody,” the anchorman continued. “Her name has not been released as yet, but here we see her being led into the police station shortly after the incident.”

John and Mary caught their breath.  She was older, of course, and heavier, but they recognized her at once.

“Bloody hell,” said John in astonishment. “It’s fuckin’ Jasmine.”

Just then, the phone rang. John answered it at once, not waiting for the machine to pick it up as he usually did.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve just seen it on th’ news here. I can’t fuckin’ believe it was her. How’s Bridget makin’ out?”

He listened for a moment. “Right,” he said. Talk t’ yer mother, lad. Here she is.”

***

When the police searched Jasmine’s apartment, they found that she had been following George’s every move for years, apparently since before she had even met him. She had pictures of and articles about him spanning his entire career. The pictures in which he appeared with Bridget had the girl’s head covered by cutouts of Jasmine’s own face. The same was true of photographs in which George was shown with other girlfriends over the years.

There were letters from him sent to her during their relationship and letters she had written since but never sent; long, confused sounding rants in which she assured him that there would never be anyone for him besides Jasmine herself.

There was also a great quantity of prescription drugs used to control depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia. Most of these bottles were still full; there were, however, dozens of gin bottles which were not.  There were several other guns in the apartment as well, and a supply of homemade targets with Bridget’s picture on them.

It was clear that Jasmine fully expected George to one day return to her. She had decided that the reason George never married was because he was aware that he belonged with her...that had worked in Jasmine’s confused and insane mind until he had married Bridget. Once that happened, Jasmine had decided that Bridget would have to die. She might have succeeded in killing her, too, had it not been for a fan in the crowd who had unknowingly jostled Jasmine’s arm as she pulled the trigger.

***

When George brought Bridget home the following week, she was set up on the living room couch to be pampered and spoiled by everyone in the family.

A few days, later Mary felt it was a good time to speak to her about Jasmine.  “When I married John,” Mary told her, “There were people who didn’t like the idea of his divorce and remarriage, but nobody ever threatened me, and eventually his fans accepted me. Of course, Julia and Bobby were already together when the Savages became popular, so there was never any problem there. This girl who shot you was troubled long before you ever came along, though, Bridget. Did George tell you about her?”

“He told me they dated early in his career,” Bridget replied. “He didn’t say much.”

“She followed the band to America,” Mary explained, “And Jasmine finally managed to get George’s attention. He took her along for the rest of the tour, then when he got home he dated her for a few weeks. He was only twenty years old, and she was younger than he was, probably eighteen. Anyhow, one evening he invited her over to have dinner here with us...”

By the time Mary had related the entire story, Bridget was staring at her in astonishment. “Did he ever hear from her again after he broke it off with her?” she asked.

“There were a few letters and we had to change our phone number, but we never really gave her any serious consideration,” replied Mary. “The letters stopped coming and we just put her out of our minds...then we saw the story on the news, and as soon as John and I saw her, we knew it was Jasmine. No need to worry about her any longer, though, dear. She’ll probably spend the rest of her life in that institution.”

“She’d bloody well better,” John remarked, coming into the room. “Although,” he added, “Th’ gurrl did know her way around a man, I’ve gotta give her that.”

He laughed and dodged the throw pillow Mary tossed at him, pulling her to her feet for a deep kiss. “Not like you, though, woman,” he said gently. “I never met a gurrl t’ equal ye, Mary, me love.”

George came in and smiled at his parents.  “Take a good look at ‘em,” he told Bridget. “That’ll be us in another thirty or forty years. I know just how Dad feels. I feel the same way about you, Bridget.”

He sat on the couch beside her and kissed her tenderly.  “God, I miss ya,” he whispered. “I can’t wait till you’re feelin’ better.”

“I’m feeling better every day,” she told him. “Why don’t we spend the night in our own flat tonight, love?”

“Would ya wanna go there now?” he suggested.

“Yes,” Bridget said softly. “Yes, I would.”

***

Paul Matthew, Bobby and Julia’s youngest, came into the house without knocking.

“Learn some manners, lad,” said John with a smile. “What if yer grandmum an’ I’d been naked?”

“Fortunately, you’re not,” he replied. “Anyroad, I’ve got news.”

“What is it, baby?” asked Mary.

“I sold my book,” he said proudly. “I did it, Granddad. You believed in me, and I did it. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“That’s th’ best news I’ve heard in weeks, Paul, lad,” said John. “C’mere and give us a hug.”

“It’s to be published before the end of the year,” said Paul. “I’ll make sure you and Grandmum get the first copy.”

“That’s grand,” John told him. “Sit down, lad. Mary, get th’ lad some scram...got any o’ that cake left? I could do with a bite meself.”

***

John was jolted out of a sound sleep by the sound of his son’s voice.

“Dad!” he cried, “Wake up! I’m takin’ Bridget to hospital-- it’s time! The baby’s comin’!”

Mary sat up in bed, her hair in disarray, her hand at her throat.  “George, is she all right? You didn’t leave her alone, did you?”

“No, Little Mary was over, and she and Bridget were looking at baby things online, so she’s gettin’ Bridget into th’ car now. You’re comin’ with us, aren’t you, Mum? Dad?”

“Get goin’, son, we’ll get dressed an’ be right behind ye,” promised John. “We’ll take our own car. You get the gurrl over to hospital!”

***

John and Mary hurried into the hospital and were taken to Bridget’s room.

John’s eyes scanned the faces in the room.

“Where’s David and Little Mary?” he asked, a look of alarm on his face. “They left before we did.”

“They’re in the next room, Dad,” replied George, spooning ice chips into Bridget’s mouth. “Looks like there are gonna be TWO additions to the Lennon clan tonight.”

“Well,” Bridget said, wincing, “Technically Mary’s baby will be a MacLeod, but she’s galloping towards the finish line a lot faster than I am. She just had one last year, so she’s been through this before. The last one only took her three hours all told...I hope I’m that lucky!”

“God’s tricycle, gurrl,” said John with a wide smile, “Two in one night--that hasn’t happened since Emily had the triplets.  Maybe I’ll call th’ lads an’ ask ‘em if they wanna wager on who gives me a new grandchild first!” He leaned forward and kissed Bridget’s cheek gently. “I’ll bet if ye put yer mind to it, ye c’n beat Little Mary out--ye’ll be th’ long shot, bein’ new at th’ game...I’ll put my money on ye, an’ if ye win, we’ll split th’ profits,” he said happily.

“Oh, John, honestly,” scolded Mary. “Never mind that. Just go on and call your friends. I’m going to pop in on Little Mary.” She shook her head as she left the room. Seventy six years old, and still the same old John, she thought, smiling fondly at his back as he headed towards the elevator, cell phone in hand.

By the time the night was over, Bridget and Little Mary each had a brand new baby boy, with Little Mary having her child mere moments before Bridget had hers.

“Ha! Pay up, Lennon,” said Paul happily, “I win! Oh, and congratulations,” he added.
“Dint bring me wallet,” replied John. I’ll catch up with ye later.” He dropped into a chair and sighed happily.

“Sure ya will,” Paul told him, sitting beside his old friend. “John, did ya ever think we’d be sittin’ here like this, both of us great granddads?”

“I never thought I’d be doin’ half o’ what I’m doin’ now,” John replied, watching as Mary accepted Little Mary’s son from David’s arms. “Look at ‘im, Paulie--he’s really somethin’, isn’t he.”

“Just beautiful,” Paul agreed. Let’s go out an’ have us a smoke, why don’t we?”

The two men went out into the new morning and sat on the bench at the edge of the parking lot; the same bench where John and Mary had sat on the night of the car accident, when Julia had broken her arm. Behind them, Mary was looking out of the window at the two men, her new great grandson sleeping in her arms.

John lit a cigarette and passed one to Paul.

“We really out to quit this, ya know,” said Paul, taking a deep  drag.

“Yeah, I’m gonna, one o’ these days. It’s a bad example for th’ kids,” John agreed. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, watching as the smoke floated up into the pink of the new morning sky. He sat back and smiled happily, glad for the presence of his old friend beside him.

Tell Angel Godiva what you thought of her story!