KatherineArlene Presents: It's All in the Game

****SPOILER ALERT****

If you are intending to read my story The Boy in the Woods or haven't finished it yet, I would urge you to reserve this chapter for after you've completed it.

The Boy in the Woods is a mysterious and poignant coming of age story set in the late 1950's with the same classic feel as A Little Princess and The Secret Garden. This bonus chapter reveals information that gives away a major part of the plot, which may ruin your reading enjoyment.

However, if you've already read Boy, or are a Wattpad Block Party reader, I've written this as a standalone piece and I hope you'll enjoy it! It's a chapter my readers have been begging me to write for years.

Bonus chapter for The Boy in the Woods – It's All in the Game

April 1958

Jonathon quickened his steps to his red brick office building, pulling the neck of his coat tighter against the rain that began to beat down harder. Beside him, Norm Kennedy, his right hand man matched his pace. They'd been having a discussion on their way up from the mining pit where they'd just finished their morning rounds, but when the rain started, they gave up talking and walked faster, intent on getting inside where it was warm and dry.

"Hey!" Norm nudged him in the arm and pointed. "There's a police car."

Jonathon lifted his head and water ran down his back from the brim of his fedora. A black and white Chevy was parked at the curb in front of the building. "Damn, it!" he said.

"I bet one of the men got drunk and busted up a bar again," Norm said.

"Whoever it is, fire him," Jonathon said. "I'm not going to tolerate them acting up anymore. It's starting to make the business look bad."

Norm shook his head as they headed up the steps to the entrance. "I hope it's not one of the vets. Some of those guys have death wish."

The men who'd come home from Korea were having a harder time adjusting to civilian life than the ones who'd been in the last war, and Jonathon couldn't understand why. His younger brother, Billy had seen plenty of action in Europe, and although he'd had some problems when he came back, he'd recovered over time. He'd been able to go to college in New York and now had a good job on Wall Street.

Even at his worst, Jonathon couldn't imagine his brother acting like some of the fellows working for him now. Nearly every week he'd hear about drinking, fighting, or someone getting in an accident due to reckless driving. Norm was right. It was like some of them were trying to get themselves killed.

When he stepped inside the warm building, he pulled off his wet fedora with relief. "Mr. Blackwell," his secretary, Mrs. Gibson said, coming to take his hat and coat. "Police Chief Connelly is here to see you."

Jonathon turned as the chief stood from one of the chairs in their small waiting area. A young patrolman who'd been sitting next to him stood as well. Jonathon didn't miss the grim expression on Connelly's face, or the way the patrolman's eyes nervously shifted away from him. If their expressions weren't enough, the fact that Connelly was coming in person in his role as chief to talk to him meant it had to be bad.

"Paul," Jonathon said, offering his hand to Connelly.

"Can I talk to you privately?" Paul said while he shook it.

Jonathon smiled to cover his dismay. "Of course. Mrs. Gibson, can you make coffee?"

"None for me," Paul said.

"I already have the pot ready in your office," Mrs. Gibson said, her face filled with worry. She hadn't missed the seriousness of the situation either.

"Very well, it's this way." Jonathon led the chief the short distance to his office and closed the door behind them. "I hope this isn't about one of my men," he said, going to the credenza where Mrs. Gibson had set out cups and the thermal coffee carafe.

"It's not about one of your employees."

Jonathon poured himself a cup of coffee. "Then what is it? I can tell it's serious."

"You should have a seat."

Jonathon stilled, and examined Paul, a man he'd known since they started elementary school together.

"Please, Johnny," Paul pleaded. "Have a seat."

There was something in his eyes, a pain like grief, and terror suddenly rose up inside Jonathon. "Is it Douglas?" he demanded loudly. "Did something happen to him?"

"It's not about your son," Paul said quickly. "He's fine."

"Then tell me what the hell this is about!" Jonathon demanded, anger instantly replacing his fear.

"I will, but please..." He indicated one of the two chairs in front of Jonathon's desk.

After a hesitation, Jonathon crossed the room but at the last second he went to the chair behind his desk, feeling the need to have a barrier between them.

Paul leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs. "It isn't good news, Johnny," he said soberly. "We got a call this morning from New York."

"New York?" Jonathon said faintly. The only person he knew in New York was his brother.

"A Detective Hayes called from New York City. He needed our help to get hold of you because – Billy was in a car accident last night."

Jonathon's chest was constricting, making it difficult for him to breathe. "Is he hurt bad?"

"He – he didn't make it," Paul said, his eyes reddening.

Jonathon was speechless with shock. It couldn't be true. Not Billy.

"I hate to be telling you this, Johnny. Billy was a good kid." Paul cleared his throat. "His wife was with him in the car, she didn't make it either."

"This can't be possible," Jonathon said as he fought back tears. His brother and Kitty both dead?

"They were struck head on by a seventeen year old boy. The detective said the boy had been drinking. He was killed too." Paul dropped his head. "Billy's daughter–"

"Jessica," Jonathon said, his voice cracking.

"That's right. She was home with a housekeeper at the time of the accident. They've left her in the woman's care, unless – you want me to call them and have her put in a children's home, or someplace safe until you get there. I asked about the housekeeper. Apparently she's worked for the family for years."

"No," Jonathon said, and then swallowed. "She's probably best with..." He couldn't continue.

Paul stood and tugged on his uniform jacket to straighten it. "I'll call and let them know you'll be on your way soon," he said, trying at a more formal tone. "I've left the contact information with your secretary. Don't get up," he said, as Jonathon started to stand.

Jonathon thought Paul was going to leave, but he stayed where he was. In the silence, Jonathon heard rain pelting against his office windows. Outside, his men would be carrying on with their work as if it was just another day.

Paul slumped, sorrow evident in his features. "I'm sorry again, Johnny. I wish this wasn't what I had to come here for. You raised Billy to be a fine man. Even though he hasn't lived here for a while, the town will miss him."

Jonathon nodded then waved his hand to dismiss him, not trusting himself to speak. When the door closed, he covered his face with his hands, no longer able to hold back his tears.

Billy. His little brother was dead. He'd never get to see or talk to him again.

How could it have happened? Billy had survived the D-Day Invasion, the Battle of the Bulge, the Battle at Remagen, and countless others. He'd come home without a scratch after three years of fighting across Europe, only to be killed in a stupid car accident. It was so senseless.

Jonathon straightened in his chair and wiped his face with his handkerchief, bitterness lacing its icy fingers around his heart at yet another cruel twist of fate. It had become clear to him long ago that his life was cursed. There was no other explanation for having every one of the people he cared about being ripped from him. First it was his father from a heart attack, and then his mother from cancer just a year later.

The brothers had lost both parents when Jonathon was a young man and Billy a teenager, not much older than Jonathon's son, Douglas was now. And then Jonathon's beloved wife and infant son lost during childbirth ten years ago. The pain from that loss had nearly killed him. Even though he'd had a falling out with Billy when he decided to leave their family business to pursue a different career in New York, Jonathon still loved him. They'd been through too much together for him not to, but now Billy was taken from him too. The only person Jonathon had left was Douglas.

Jonathon's breath caught in his throat.

Douglas.

No, he thought as he reached for the telephone. No! He dialed the number for his company's law office while his heart raced. Please don't let it be true, he silently begged, hearing the phone ring on the other end.

"Anderson, Klein, Fulton, and White," a woman's voice said.

"This is Jonathon Blackwell. I need to speak to Mr. White immediately."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwell," she said.

After a click, he heard the receiver pick up. "How can I help you, Jonathon?"

"Bob, I – I–" He had to stop to catch his breath. Taking an extra second, he collected his thoughts. "I've had terrible news. My brother, Billy, and his wife–" His voice cracked, and he had to take in another lungful of air. "They were killed in a car accident last night."

"I'm sorry, Jonathon! That's horrible!"

"Did – did Billy ever contact you about the trust?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"He said he was going to. Can you check your records?"

"Certainly."

Jonathon heard a fumbling and Bob's voice as he called for his secretary. "I want all the Blackwell family records pulled, and I want them now! Billy had a daughter, didn't he?" he asked Jonathon in a quieter voice.

"Yes, Jessica. She wasn't with them. She's alright."

"Thank goodness for that. Do you know why Billy wanted to talk to us about the trust?"

"Billy was planning to stay in New York. He didn't want to–"

"Oh, thank you, Margaret," Bob said, interrupting him. Papers rustled in the background, and Jonathon waited, his heart rate increasing. "I see that Billy sent us a new will while he was serving overseas. This was done after Jessica was born. It doesn't look like he amended it." There was more rustling. "There isn't anything here about the trust."

"Could he have filed something with a lawyer in New York?" Jonathon asked, feeling more desperate.

"Anything having to do with the trust would have to be done through our office."

Jonathon slumped, his worst fears confirmed.

"What did he want changed?"

Jonathon swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."

"Since Billy has passed," Bob continued more gently. "The next in line for the trust after you is his daughter."

Jonathon squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

"I'll let the partners know what's happened. If Billy has retained the services of a lawyer in New York, let the office know and we'll be in contact with him to work out any necessary arrangements."

"Sure," Jonathon choked out before he hung up the phone.

Leaning over his desk, he put his head in his hands. He understood now. This latest tragedy wasn't just meant to hurt him. It was intended to hurt Douglas, to make him suffer. The curse that had followed Jonathon throughout his life was now going to be Douglas's curse too. How could Jonathon tell him he wasn't going to inherit the home he lived in, the acres of land surrounding it, or Blackwell Iron and Mining, the business Jonathon had raised him to run? Douglas was going to be devastated when he heard the news.

He looked up at the ceiling. Why hadn't Billy signed documents giving up all claims to the trust like he'd promised? Now Billy's daughter, a girl, was going to inherit everything that should have been Douglas's. There was no way she'd ever be able to run a mine of that size. It was ridiculous to even consider it. The business his grandfather had built from nothing would be destroyed. Or worse, he thought with a growing sense of dread. Once she married, her husband would control everything that belonged to her. A stranger would be running the mine.

Imagining Douglas standing outside the locked gate to his home with no other place to go and no longer allowed to work at the job he loved, a ruthless determination took hold of Jonathon. He wouldn't allow it to happen. If there was any way of stopping it, he was going to do it.

He pressed the button on his intercom. "Mrs. Gibson!" he barked.

"Y-yes, Mr. Blackwell?" From the way her voice shook, Jonathon could tell she was crying. Paul must have told her about Billy on his way out.

"I need tickets to New York City, leaving as soon as possible. Call my housekeeper and tell her – tell her what's happened."

"You want me to tell Annie about Billy?" she asked tremulously.

Jonathon felt a pang of guilt. He knew it was wrong, but he didn't have time to deal with Annie. There was too much to do. Douglas's entire future depended on it. "Yes, and ask her to start packing for me. I'll be there for at least a week or more, and I need her to send James to come get me right away."

"Yes, sir."

"While I'm waiting, you'd better send Mr. Kennedy to my office. He'll have to take over while I'm gone."

"I will."

Jonathon hung up the phone, his mind already turning over ways to fix the problem with Billy's daughter. Once his driver was there, he'd pick up Douglas at school, and by that time, he had to have a plan.

~~

When Jonathon walked in the house with Douglas, Annie was coming down the stairs, her face puffy and red from crying.

"Hi, Annie," Douglas said, eyeing her with concern.

"It's such sad news," she said to both of them as she pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket.

"Annie, I need to speak privately with Douglas," Jonathon said, wanting to stop her before she got herself worked up. "I don't want us to be disturbed."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her eyes widening, and he realized she didn't think he'd told Douglas yet. "I'll go finish packing upstairs."

"Thank you." He led Douglas to the parlor and closed the door behind them.

"Annie sure seems broken up about Uncle Billy," Douglas said.

"Billy was still in high school when she came to work for us. They were..." Jonathon searched for the right word. "Close, similar to how she is with you."

"Oh, that makes sense."

Douglas wandered to the couch at the large front window and Jonathon watched him. At fifteen, his son was already a handsome young man and tall from a recent growth spurt. Dark curls from his wavy hair had escaped the hair cream and were falling over his forehead. His intense blue eyes that reminded Jonathon so much of his mother were sad, but sympathetic.

"I wish I'd had a chance to get to know Uncle Billy. I don't remember him at all."

"Let's have a seat, Douglas. There's some things we have to talk about." He went to join him at the couch, steeling himself. This was going to be the hardest conversation he'd ever had with his son.

"What is it, dad?"

"Billy and I had an agreement, one we'd made a long time ago. He was going to make arrangements so he wouldn't inherit the trust, but – he didn't do it."

"I thought I was going to inherit the trust," Douglas said, searching his eyes with confusion.

"You were, but because Billy was going to give up his right to it. You see, the way the trust is set up, only blood relatives can inherit."

Douglas's face flushed red and he dropped his head. "And I'm not," he muttered.

He put his hand on Douglas's shoulder. "There's no reason why it should have been that way. Just because you're adopted doesn't mean you're any less my son. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," Douglas said, but Jonathon could tell he still felt ashamed.

"It was because of the way Grandfather had the trust written. There wasn't anything Billy and I could to do to change it, but we thought if Billy renounced his right to the inheritance, the partners would let it be passed to you as the next closest relative."

"But Uncle Billy can't inherit the trust now, so I'll inherit it, right?"

Jonathon took a deep breath. "The next in line is your cousin, Jessica, his daughter."

Douglas's mouth dropped open. "A girl? That doesn't make any sense! How is she going to run the mine?"

"I agree with you, but that's the way the trust is set up."

"It's not right! She shouldn't be allowed!"

"We can't stop it from happening, but I know how to fix it. There's a way you can gain control over the trust."

"How?" Douglas said desperately.

Jonathon stood and went to the fireplace. This was going to be the hardest part. "You're going to have to marry her."

Douglas's eyes widened with shock. "What?"

"If you marry her, you'll have control over her assets, including the trust."

Douglas sprung off the couch. "I'm too young to get married!"

"You don't have to marry her now. She's only thirteen years old. I meant later, when you're both of age."

"Dad, no!" Douglas said, tears filling his eyes.

"I know you don't like the idea, but years from now–"

"I'm already going steady with a girl!"

"You're going to have to break things off with her. You can't convince one girl to marry you while you're seeing another one."

"But I really like Donna!" Douglas's tears spilled over and he covered his face as he began sobbing.

"Listen to me, Douglas! If you don't marry her, you'll lose your home and whoever does marry her will take over running the mine. We can't let that happen! You know you're the best person to run it after me. Without you, the mine will fail! And worse than that, people will be wondering why you didn't inherit. They could guess the truth about your mother – and what happened. Do you want that kind of scandal following you everywhere you go? People whispering behind your back? You'll have to move away to escape it."

Wracking sobs shook Douglas's body, and Jonathon couldn't stand it. He placed his hand on Douglas's back. "I didn't want this for you, son," he said gently. "But we don't have any other choice."

Douglas straightened and wiped his face with his hands. "Please don't make me marry her, dad," he pleaded.

Jonathon offered him his handkerchief, and considered relenting. It was breaking his heart to hurt his son like this, but then he thought of Billy's daughter trying to take charge of the mine, or her husband taking control, and his resolve strengthened.

"You have five years before you have to worry about this. That's a long time from now. Her mother was pretty and I'm sure she's got her looks. After living under the same roof with a pretty girl for five years, I bet you'll feel a lot differently."

Douglas nodded, but he wouldn't meet his father's eyes.

"By marrying her, you'll save everything the Blackwell family has built over the last hundred years. I know this won't be easy for you, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices for things that are bigger than we are. Think of all the men at the mine, and their families. They need those jobs. I wouldn't have suggested this if I didn't know you were up to the challenge. I know you can do it, son."

Douglas stared into the empty fireplace, his mouth set in a grim line. "Alright, I'll do it," he muttered.

"Good boy. I'm proud of you, son. Just please remember, you can't mention this to anyone, especially Annie. I don't want her meddling in something that doesn't have anything to do with her. This whole thing could fall apart if anyone finds out, and then we'll lose everything. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good." He looked at his watch. "I have to start making phone calls before it gets too late."

Douglas nodded again, but he didn't move, and Jonathon went to the door. In the hallway, Annie was coming down the stairs with some of his shirts over her arm. "I'm worried you'll run out of clean shirts and I don't trust the people at the hotel to iron them they way you like, so I'm going to wash these."

"I have to catch the six a.m. train tomorrow so I need everything packed by tonight," Jonathon said.

"I'll make sure it's all done in time. Oh, Douglas," Annie said, looking past him, and Jonathon turned around.

Douglas was in the doorway, grief etched in his face, and Annie went to him.

"Do you want me to make you hot chocolate to help you feel better?" she offered gently.

He shook his head with his eyes on the floor. "I'm going upstairs," he mumbled.

"Alright, but if you want hot chocolate later, I can bring it to you."

Instead of answering, he headed for the stairs.

They watched him go up, and after his bedroom door closed, Annie faced him. "Poor kid."

"I have to make phone calls," Jonathon said, wanting to stop her before he got drawn into a conversation.

"Oh, okay," she said, dropping her head. "I should get started on your shirts."

She left in the direction of the kitchen, and Jonathon picked up the telephone and went back into the parlor while a searing rage coursed through him.

What should have been Douglas's birthright had been snatched from him because Billy hadn't done what he'd promised. Even though Jonathon had to hurt his son in an attempt to help him, the problem still wasn't solved. His niece was in line to inherit everything, and until the moment Douglas married her, Jonathon couldn't be sure his son's future was secure.

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