Crackpot by Nexxie Johnny Gage walked into the kitchen in time to watch his son place a bow atop a large square box wrapped in pink and silver paper that sat in solitary splendor on the oak dining table which filled a large portion of the room. "Who's the present for?" he asked. The elder Gage figured he already knew, Mother's Day being so close, but he wanted to hear it anyway. With all the anxiety and heartache his son and Jennifer had gone through, Joanne DeSoto always seemed to be the one taking their side, even against their own fathers. It must be some kind of 'mommy gene', he decided. "It's for Mrs. D," came the not-unexpected reply. "What didja get her?" Johnny, himself, played a major role in Mother's Day at the DeSoto house over the years, usually in on some scheme to surprise Jo, whether for Roy or helping the kids. After twelve years of friendship, he pretty well knew what would please Joanne, and what she would pretend to like. Flowers? Good. Jewelry? Good. Electric can opener? Bad move, Roy! He chuckled inwardly remembering Jo's serious attempt not to look disappointed and annoyed. Johnny tucked that memory away for future reference and always had it handy when Roy went through his annual struggle to find the perfect gift for his wife. Some years went better than others. "It's a cookie jar," J.R. informed his father. "Her old one got knocked off the counter last week and shattered into a million pieces. I found one just like it at a second-hand store when we did a fire inspection a couple of days ago. Mrs. D said that Chris gave her the old one for Mother's Day one year, so I thought maybe this would be a neat time to replace it if I could." J.R. waited for Johnny's seal of approval on the gift. "The one that looked like a big house?" Johnny inquired. "That one broke? Oh, man, I helped Chris pick that out at the dime store. He only had eighty-two cents and the cashier went along with me on pretending that was enough." Johnny chuckled. "I slipped her the other three dollars behind Chris' back. Man, he was so proud, he almost couldn't wait until Mother's Day to give it to Jo. I kicked in a bag of cookies from the grocery store so it wouldn't start out empty." He remembered Jo's look of gratitude and Roy's surprised expression. Mother's Day was one day that he really enjoyed being part of Roy's family. It filled an aching void caused by the memory of his own parents' tragic death. "So, do you think this was a good idea?" J.R. prompted. Johnny heard the concern in his son's voice and rightly interpreted the need for confirmation. "I think it's a great idea. Mind if I pick up some cookies for it? I don't think cookie jars should start out empty." A wide grin spread its way across J.R.'s face. "Chocolate chip are her favorite," J.R. informed him before heading for the great room. "I know that!" Johnny said, pretending irritation as he followed his son toward the front door. The two men slipped out the screen door and took their usual spots on the front porch. Johnny sprawled in the large Adirondack chair he'd crafted a few years ago, and J.R. sat on the front steps, one foot hiked up on the top step, his clasped hands resting on his knee and his back against the post that supported the stair rail. Looking fondly at his son's dark hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, Johnny reflected with satisfaction that now J.R. had a "mom" to care about him again. Jo certainly has that quality...one that just makes a guy want to see her smile. "Man, I've sure helped with a lot of Mother's Day gifts for Joanne over the years." The elder Gage snorted. "Heck, it's almost become a tradition." J.R. leaned his head back and looked up at the nearly cloudless sky, before closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of warm sunlight on his face. "Mrs. Smith used to help me just about every year," he commented. "I think she slipped a little extra money across the counter a few times too. There's no way the little bit of change I had could have paid for Mom's presents." Johnny shifted uncomfortably, stabbed by guilt as always when his son talked about his childhood, a childhood in which his father was rendered conspicuous by his absence. Determined to reminisce, J.R. continued. "I think the best thing I ever gave her, though, was handmade. Our third grade class went on a field trip to a pottery shop. The potter let each of us make a little flower pot. He put them on the shelf to dry and told us he would bring them to the school in a week or so. Sure enough, he did come back. He must have talked with our art teacher, 'cause the next time we had art class, he let us paint the flower pots and then took them back to fire in his kiln. Lots of the boys did pictures of trucks or sports team logos, especially the Chiefs. Some of them even did Indian designs, and they teased me because I didn't." Johnny's head came up. "What did you do?" J.R. carefully wrapped his art project in newspaper and tucked it inside his jacket, then picked up his books and got in line to leave school for the day. The teacher waited for everyone to become quiet before opening the door to let her students depart. J.R. could hear the boys behind him chuckling and knew he was in for more teasing. I don't care, he thought. I know my mom's gonna like my flowerpot. Mrs. Smith says I should give it to her for Mother's Day, and she said she has an extra flower to put in it that just won't fit in her planter. As the students filed into the hall and headed for the sidewalk to await the schoolbus, J.R. felt himself jostled from behind. "Hey, Indian, how come you didn't put Indian pictures on your flower pot?" That was Tip Parker. He found special pleasure in tormenting J.R., and he stood about three inches taller. The smaller boy opted to ignore the question and walked faster, ducking into an opening in the crowd that Tip couldn't make it through without shoving...and getting in trouble. Once he reached the bus, J.R. Gage hurried to an empty seat by the window and squished himself into the corner. Gradeschool kids had to sit three to a seat. J.R. watched as Tip walked past on the way to his own bus. He happened to glance up at J.R. and was rewarded with a glimpse of the other boy's tongue as he stuck it out in defiance, followed by a wide crooked grin, confident that Tip had no means of retaliation at the moment. "Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Smith! I'm home, Mrs. Smith," J.R. sang out. His bright brown eyes sparkled as he withdrew the precious bundle from his jacket. "See! I got it back today. Isn't it great!" Ida Smith, her iron gray hair pulled firmly back into a bun, hurried into the livingroom of the McGuire apartment. She took the pot from J.R. and examined it carefully, frowning in concentration as she took in every detail. After a moment she pursed her lips and made ready to pronounce judgement. Quivering with pent-up enthusiasm, J.R. awaited her verdict. "Well, young man," Ida declared, "I think that is about the most beautiful pot I have ever seen." Her face melted into merriment, every beloved wrinkle an echo of her cheerful smile. She carefully placed the pot on the side table and opened her arms. Little J.R. Gage threw himself into the cushiony lap of the woman who represented neighbor, confidant, friend, babysitter and surrogate grandmother. Only his mother loved him more. After planting a smacking kiss on the wrinkled cheek, J.R. slid down and nearly danced around the livingroom. "Do you really think she'll like it, Mrs. Smith? Do you think she won't be disappointed that the present is homemade and not storebought?" His earnest look plead for reassurance. "My little lamb, I think she will love it most of all because your hands made it, and not some stranger's. Do you have a card for her?" J.R., his happiness overflowing, nodded energetically and opened the front of his math book. There tucked carefully inside the cover, lay a handmade card of heavy art paper folded in fourths. Flowers and shamrocks cut from colorful construction paper graced the front, and it was proudly labled, "To the best Mom in the world". After giving J.R. a look that asked permission, Mrs. Smith opened the card to read the sentiment on the inside. Penciled in wobbly childish cursive, the child had written: Sometimes I make you happy, Sometimes I make you mad. But when you say you love me, It always makes me glad. I love you, Mom. Love, J.R. Gage "That's very nice, J.R.," Ida told him. "And now, let's see about putting something in your flower pot, shall we?" The woman walked into the kitchen, J.R. trotting in her wake. On the counter sat a small african violet, it's fuzzy leaves a dark rich green, the flowers a deep shade of purple. J.R.'s mouth formed a perfect "O" as he eyed the plant. "That will look perfect!" he squealed at last. "I think so too," Mrs. Smith told him. She cast a glance at the small alarm clock on the shelf. "Now I think we'd better hurry and get this little fellow into his new home, don't you?" J.R. nodded enthusiastically and ran to get the flowerpot. On the way to the kitchen, he tripped on the wooden door sill and fell headlong, the pot tumbling from his grasp and crashing to the floor. Two big tears streaked down the little boy's face as he beheld the small flowerpot laying on the kitchen floor in three large pieces. "Oh, no! Mrs. Smith, what am I gonna do now?" Mrs. Smith picked up the pieces of the broken gift, her face a picture of dismay. It somehow seemed symbolic that the pot was decorated with the words, "I love you, Mom." and a big red heart. The break went through the middle of the heart, separating it into two parts. The bottom was also broken away unevenly. Mrs. Smith frowned and fit the pieces back together. "I think some glue can mend this," she told the child. J.R. wiped his eyes with the back of one slighty dirty hand and sniffed. He solemnly examined the pieces and shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same," he told the woman. "Now I don't have anything to give Mom for Mother's Day." Try as he might, he couldn't stop the tears from coming out. He buried his head in his hands and his thin shoulders shook with sobs. "Come, Little Lamb," Mrs. Smith said. "Everything happens for a reason." Inconsolable, J.R. let himself be pulled onto the cushiony lap and held until the crying stopped. Then he went to his bedroom and lay on the bed, unwilling to face the world. "I cried myself to sleep that night," J.R. told Johnny. "Mrs. Smith took the broken flowerpot home and glued it back together. On Mother's Day morning she came to our apartment while Mom and I were both still asleep and set it on the kitchen counter with the violet inside. I remember you could still see the cracks, and there were some chips out of it. She put the card beside it, standing open. Johnny watched as his son clasped both hands behind his head and heaved a bittersweet sigh. "So what happened when Marnie saw the gift?" the senior Gage asked his son. J.R. smiled. "Mom made over it like it was solid gold. I wasn't happy and she could tell. I told her it was broken and ruined. You know what she told me?" Johnny waited, his glance encourging his son to continue. Marnie knelt down and embraced her son in a warm hug then kissed the top of his head. "Do you know why this gift is so very special?" she asked him. J.R. shook his head morosely. "Because it reminds me of you. Your daddy and I had something very beautiful together. But a tragedy came and broke us apart. Like the glue that put this pot back together, you came along and fixed my broken heart. You made me whole again, filled my life with love and laughter and made my days bloom with joy. Every day I look at your face I can see your father. You are the greatest gift Johnny ever gave me. You made this pot with your very own hands. It began with the love in your heart. No storebought present could ever be more special than that." "So what ever happened to the flowerpot?" Johnny questioned. J.R. squinted and stared at the barn, watching as birds entered and exited the loft window. "When Mom went into the hospital for the last time I asked Mrs. Smith to take care of it for me. I took it to her house so that if Mom didn't come home, nobody would throw it away. Later, when I moved in with Mrs. Smith, after Mom died, the violet was still blooming like crazy. I left it with her when I came out here. She died last summer, so I don't know what happened to the pot." ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ "J.R. where did you ever find this?" Joanne exclaimed as she removed the novelty cookie jar from it's box. The dark-haired young man exhaled in relief. Mrs. D likes it. Joanne looked at the oddly shaped package on the table that smelled of chocolate. She winked at Johnny. "If memory serves," she told him, "somebody doesn't think cookie jars should start out empty." Johnny stepped forward and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Happy Mother's Day, Jo," he told her." Joanne gave him a hug. "Thank you, Johnny, again." "Junior, when are you gonna stop buying Mother's Day gifts for my wife and get one of your own?" Roy's question, asked in a jocular mode, hovered in the room for a bit and fell flat. Johnny released Jo and stepped back, his arms falling to his sides as he stared at the sculptured pattern of the carpeting at his feet. "We'll have a dozen kids at least," Marnie teased, giving Johnny one of her brilliant smiles. The teenage boy gulped and gaped at the girl sitting beside him in the front seat of the old white truck. "A doz...wha..?" Johnny felt his throat constrict. "Gotcha!" Marnie chuckled. Her throaty laugh sent waves of desire through his sixteen-year-old body. Suddenly the idea of making a dozen babies with this beautiful girl didn't sound too bad. "Can we wait a bit on that?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Sure," she whispered while pushing him back against the door and leaning toward his lips. "But nothing says we can't get in a little practice." "Dad?" Johnny jumped a little and looked into his son's concerned brown eyes. "Huh?" "Are you okay? You've been staring off into space for the last few minutes." Johnny shook off the memory, not quite able to shed the pang of lonliness and regret that accompanied it. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine, just fine," he said, convincing nobody. "Hey, partner, I didn't mean to make you..." "No, Roy, it's all right. I guess I'll get around to that someday. Meanwhile is it okay if I borrow Jo for a few more Mother's Days?" "Sure," Roy grinned, relieved to see Johnny bounce back. Still, he thought, I can tell my old friend is unhappy about something. And I don't think a cold beer and a long talk is gonna fix it. "I think we'd better head out," John Gage told the DeSotos at large. "We're all on shift tomorrow and J.R. and I have some work to get done before dark." J.R., in private conversation with his intended, glared at his father, but then decided it might be for the best. His dad's strange mood didn't bode well for a pleasant celebration. ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Johnny's Crew felt an oppressive sadness around their Captain throughout the shift. He seemed preoccupied to the point of abstraction and unable, or unwilling, to throw off the mood. "Man, whatever's eatin' Cap, I hope he gets over it by next shift. I'm not sure I can handle much more of this," Dwyer whispered to his partner, Greg Manley, who nodded agreement. "Wonder what has him down now?" Taylor murmered. "Konnitsky, did J.R. say anything about it last night?" Konnitsky leaned forward to impart what he'd learned on the phone the previous evening. The others leaned forward in concert, sure that whatever Dave said would be spoken in a low voice to escape Cap's keen hearing and uncanny ability to sense when he was the topic of conversation. "J.R. said that his dad suddenly got real quiet over at DeSoto's yesterday when Captain DeSoto made a joke about Captain Gage always buying his wife a Mother's Day gift." "What!" Marco Lopez exclaimed. "Johnny...I mean Cap and Roy's wife? That's insane!" "Konnitsky you're nuts!" Taylor declared. "Hey, man," Dave whispered fiercely, "I'm just repeating what J.R. said. Marco shook his head. "Even if it were true, and I can't believe it is, why would J.R. tell anybody that kind of thing? Think what kind of trouble that could cause in the Department! No, Johnny and Roy have been good friends for too many years. There's no way Cap would...Konnitsky, you've got to be wrong!" "Okay! Fine! I'm wrong. Why don't you all just go in there and ask Cap what's eatin' him then? Huh? Why do I have to do the snoopin' and sneakin' around for ya?" Konnitsky heaved himself out of his chair and stalked to the locker room. Frankly he was shocked as well when J.R. seemed to imply there was something between his father and the other captain's wife. I just wish this shift would end. Cap Gage stared at the photograph of Marnie and an infant J.R. that graced the top of his desk. A gift from his cousin Claire last Christmas, the picture became a great treasure in Johnny's mind, granting him a small glimpse of the life he could have had. Marnie had grown from a pretty girl into an incredibly beautiful woman. Her face, even at eighteen, took on a maturity and a gentleness, differing from the adventurous and mischevious young woman he'd known. Marnie, he thought, I wish we could have had those dozen kids. I bet you would have loved every one of 'em. I would have too. What would they have looked like? Like J.R.? Or more like you? I bet you were a beautiful little girl too. We should have had a daughter that looked just like you. I wish I'd been there to pick up the broken pieces of that flower pot and mend them for my son, to hold him until he cried it all out and give him the words of wisdom that changed a seeming tragedy into a fond memory. He would have had some grandparents that loved him too. My parents were great, Marnie. I wish you had known them better. They would have loved J.R. so much..." Johnny gazed at the clock on the wall above his desk. Time seemed to creep along without a call on the one day he really needed to keep busy. I guess I should find out what my crew is up to, he thought. It's been awful quiet out there. The looks given him by the men of C-Shift couldn't be attributed to paranoia, their leader knew instantly. His ability to tune in to the mood of his men was one of the traits that made Johnny a good captain. It was just plain eerie. He regarded them for a moment, huddled in the dayroom, save for Konnitsky, staring at him as if he were a particularly disgusting object. "What is the matter?" he asked. The men muttered various phrases about chores they should be doing and took off in several different directions. "Freeze!" Cap Gage ordered. Habit and respect kicked in. They froze. "Konnitsky!" Gage bellowed, unwilling to leave anyone out of this session. Dave came on the run, stopping short when he arrived in the dayroom. His crew mates appeared apprehensive and his captain very confused. "Everybody sit down," Johnny instructed and waited until they were seated before he began. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know now!" Dead silence. "All right...fine. No! it's not all right. I walked into this room and you all looked at me like I was some kind of rattlesnake. Since I haven't changed species in the last hour or so, I want to know what that's all about." Charlie Dwyer knew things wouldn't improve until Johnny knew what they thought. With any luck, they were all wrong. He cleared his throat. "Cap, we heard that...that you might have feelings for..." How could he possibly say this? "Feelings for who?" Johnny asked, mystified. Konnitsky piped up. "J.R. said things got tense yesterday when Cap DeSoto asked you to stop giving Mother's Day presents to his wife." The silence that followed this statement grew oppressive while Johnny took in the implications. "You think that I...have 'feelings' for Joanne DeSoto?" Johnny asked, incredulous. Five heads nodded uneasily. Johnny felt indignant then saw the way his son's words could be misinterpreted. He imagined Joanne's reaction...and Roy's. Could anything be more ridiculous? He started to chuckle and then to laugh. Unable to stop, he dismissed his crew with one hand and walked back toward his office. Dave Konnitsky ran after his captain and slid to a stop at the kitchen door. He leaned into the apparatus bay and called after Johnny, "Then it's not true?" Johnny shook his head and laughed harder, the laughter providing a much-needed release. Taylor pushed past Konnitsky and stood at the office door. "Cap, what did happen at DeSoto's yesterday...if you don't mind my asking?" From his chair Gage grinned widely at Taylor. "Rudy, Roy was teasing me about still being a bachelor. He figured it's time I stopped messin' around and found somebody to marry." "And that's funny, Cap?" Taylor failed to see the humor. "No," Johnny sighed, "but you couldn't come between Roy and Joanne with a crowbar, and the idea that I would be the one to try is laughable." He looked at Rudy. "Jo is like a sister, pal, a very dear sister." "So, Cap, what does have you all upset?" Gage looked at the other fireman. "A flowerpot, Rudy," he replied. "A stupid broken flowerpot." The tones took that moment to interrupt. "STATION 51, STATION 86, STATION 99, ENGINE 12...RESPOND WITH BATTALION 14 TO THE BRUSH FIRE IN OWL CREEK CANYON...TAKE THE PINE RIDGE TURNOFF FROM SADDLEBACK LANE...TIME OUT 1320." About time! Johnny thought. "Station 51, KMG-365," he responded. Running to the engine he pulled on his turnout coat and climbed up beside the engineer. Let's roll, Marco," he said. As they pulled out of the station, Engineer Marco Lopez looked at his captain and friend and queried, "A broken flowerpot?" Johnny grinned. "Never mind." ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Johnny and his son wandered into the ranch house after a long ride and busied themselves with lunch. The elder Gage spread mayo thickly on several slices of bread before assembling sandwiches for them both. A pounding on the screen door startled both men and sent them hurrying to answer. On the porch lay a parcel, left by the postman, his car now concealed by a cloud of dust on the gravel drive. J.R. scooped up the package. It was addressed to J.R. Gage and bore a Kansas City postmark. "Hey, it's from Cager!" J.R. was startled to hear from his old friend after months of silence. What on earth...? He opened the package and reached inside the box, removing several layers of wadded up newspaper. His face took on a ghostly hue and he stared at his father, mouth agape. Johnny started forward in concern. What could that parcel possibly contain that would cause J.R. to be so shaken? The younger Gage, with trembling hands, removed a small, chipped and worn blue flower pot with a big red heart on one side and the words, "I love you, Mom." on the other. A clearly visible crack ran through the heart. From inside the pot he withdrew a slip of paper. "Last spring Mrs. Smith asked me to send this to you whenever you got settled," he read. "She specifically said she wanted it to arrive around Mother's Day. She said to tell you, 'Fill it up with love, J.R.'" Johnny stared at the pot a little in awe then picked up his keys and headed for the Rover. "Where are you going?" his son asked, bewildered. Johnny halted in mid-stride and turned to face J.R. "I'm going to buy an african violet for Marnie...for Mother's Day," he replied. ~THE END~ Author's note: Thanks, ria! Inspiration works both ways. ~Nexxie return to main menu