Series Stories – Professor Jack Jenkins -Part Two

This is a series story, Professor Jack Jenkins Part Two. (if you missed part one, tap here) The story is based on time travel in the realm of metaphysics. After Mike’s time travel to his future life, he proposes to Joycelyn – because he now knows he loves her. They get married and enjoy a blissful honeymoon. But there is a rocky road ahead with the arrival of Dick. Once more, Mike calls on Prof for help. The follow-up of this story will be published in three weeks; I have decided to publish a series of stories for those who visit my site. Why don’t you join us? Below this page, you will find a button, ‘Subscribe’ Click on the button, and you will be notified of the next release. At any time, if you no longer wish to be notified, you may unsubscribe. Enjoy.

Professor Jack Jenkins

Circa 1964 -2012

Chapter Two – The Solution

“Well, why are you looking so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” Joycelyn was puzzled as she looked at Mike. “Coffee? I’ve only got 45 minutes in hand before I start lectures. We have to talk.” Mike was beaming. “Yes, I’d love a coffee, and OK, let’s talk.” They sat in a little hideaway at the Willow, and Mike moved to Joycelyn’s side, kneeling on the floor. They were out of sight from the other quests in the restaurant. “Joycelyn, will you marry me; I promise to make a fine husband and daddy.” Joycelyn was speechless. “Well?” Mike looked appealingly. “Yes, yes, Mike, I will.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small felt-finished wine-colored box. He took a ring out and placed it on her finger. Tears welled up in Jocelyn’s eyes, and they kissed. “I wanted to get you something bigger and flashier, but that will come in time.” “It is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. I love you.” Mike moved close to her tummy, “Baby, did you hear that? We three are going to be legal soon.”

A small family group gathered at the church. Fr, Jacob married Joycelyn and Jacob and then said mass. After mass, he quipped in a low tone to the two. “Will your baby be baptized here, Mike?” “Of course, Father, Mike answered before Joycelyn could say something to disappoint the priest.

After the ceremony, as Joycelyn and Mike were climbing into their car, he was approached by a man who handed them an envelope. “Congratulations to the two of you.” “Dick, isn’t it?” Mike vaguely remembered seeing a picture of him once. “Yes, the ex-boyfriend. A little gift for you both; don’t open it until after your honeymoon,” “Thanks, Dick.” Mike was puzzled but slipped the envelope into his pocket. “What was that all about?” Joycelyn was intrigued. “Dick the prick,” Mike muttered. “Offered his congratulations; still holding a candle for you, I think.”  “Oh, Mike, he’s no match against you – my handsome husband and daddy.”

They were taking a long weekend at a delightful boutique hotel, a gift from a friend, and had been dreaming of this  moment for months; a honeymoon at a plush hotel on a lake shoreline, where they could enjoy the beauty of nature and the luxury of comfort. They checked into their room, which offered stunning views of the lake and countryside from their balcony. The room was spacious and elegant, with a king-sized bed and a fireplace; they felt like royalty as they unpacked their bags and toasted with champagne.

The next day, they explored the hotel’s grounds. Horses were grazing in the fields, swans gliding on the water, and sheep roaming on the hills. They rented bikes from the hotel and cycled along the lake shoreline, stopping to admire the scenery and take photos. They also visited some of the nearby attractions.

On returning to their hotel in the evening they enjoyed a romantic dinner at The Grill Restaurant.

After dinner, they cuddled on their balcony and watched the stars twinkle over the lake. They felt so happy and grateful for each other and this fantastic experience. Kissing softly and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, Mike and Joycelyn knew this was just the beginning of their lifelong adventure together.

Cash gifts from the wedding helped to pay the rent for a furnished cottage down the road from Mike’s folks, and they settled in happily at their new home.

Joycelyn returned to work at the bank, and Mike was off to varsity. Walking out the door, he remembered his pen in the wedding suit pocket. Mike felt an envelope as his hand slid into his pocket and recalled Dick’s gift. Slipping it into his leather jacket, he fired up his Enfield bike and roared to varsity.

Arriving at the cottage after lectures, he saw Joycelyn’s little green Morris Minor parked in the lean-to alongside their cottage. Of course, she’s home; it’s Wednesday, half day at the bank, he remembered. Joycelyn was preparing their meal. Mike went up behind, kissing her ear, “Stop that! You know it’s ticklish,” she feigned annoyance. As Mike undid his Jacket, he remembered the envelope. “Oh, by the way, I forgot to give you this envelope from Dick the pr…” “Mike, stop that.” “I didn’t say anything,” Mike jibed.

“Something to drink?” “Coffee, please.” The two sat at the breakfast nook, and Joycelyn opened Dick’s envelope. “Oh, dear God, no!” She had visibly paled; dropping the letter, she began to cry. Mike put his arm around Joycelyn and took the letter from the table. As he read his face visibly colored, “Bastard! I’ll beat the shit out of the pig.” “You need to beat his mother; she’s behind this. She liked me a lot and wanted me to marry Dick, and now the bitch wants our baby.” Joycelyn wept loudly. “Apart from wanting our baby, what about the paternity test he wants?” “Well, we did have sex when we were going together, Mike – that’s human. But it doesn’t tie up with my time. Close, yes, but it can’t be his child!”

They met with Dick, and between the three, they would go to a private laboratory to do the test. As Dick would initiate it, he would meet costs. A week later, Dick called to say the results showed that the child was his. Joycelyn was hysterical, saying their baby could never be Dick’s child. Mike asked for the written report and said Dick must bring the report and copies of whatever the laboratory used regarding information and samples for the process. Dick was cagey initially but agreed when Mike said he would look for a second opinion and pay the costs. Dick handed over the samples and report.

“Where are you going to take this?” “I have a close friend with highly advanced equipment who can do it for us.” Joycelyn raised her eyebrows, “which friend Mike,” “bear with me; I can’t tell you that just now – it’s a long story; please trust me.”

Mike knocked on Nanna’s door. She edged her door open cautiously as if expecting to see an unwanted caller. “Oh, it’s you; what do you want, Mikey?” “I’m well. How are you?” “Piss off, don’t get smart with me.” “Seriously, Nanna, I need help.” She paused as if thinking the matter through, opened her door, pointed to a chair, and they sat down. “What?” She demanded. Mike explained, and she stopped him, “Jack is expecting you; we both know the story.” So this is what it’s like to have a psychic grandmother – she always knows everything! Mike had to smile to himself.

Mike made his way to the brewery.

Prof opened up, “You know what I would like to suggest? Jump into the traveler, go about six months back, grab his baby-making factory, and crush it to pieces in a vice.” Mike’s jaw dropped, was this Prof speaking? He asked himself. “But, of course, we can’t defy the rules, can we?” “Because that could activate a butterfly effect and result in disastrous consequences for both Dick and others.”  “The more sensible approach is checking the DNA, which I will do now. Go home, and you’ll find the report in your mailbox. We’ll catch this hoodlum at his own game!” “OK if I run home?” “Fly if you want; it’s there already.” Mike blinked, and next, he was roaring along on the Enfield.

Mike rushed in through the front door waving the envelope in his hand. “We got mail!” He sat next to a heartbroken Joycelyn and tore the envelope open. Mike stood up – thrusting his fist to the roof, “yes, yes, yes, It’s my baby!” Joycelyn scowled, “Mike get hold of yourself; what are you talking about.” He thrust the letter into her hands. It took her a couple of minutes, and she jumped up and hugged Mike. “Oh, Mikey, I knew it was your baby.” “That lying bastard, I’m going to crush his balls in a vice!” Mike was rabid. At that moment he noticed a small note which had slipped out of Prof’s report.“Look Joycelyn, there is a note in the envelope.”

‘Go to Wicker K Jensen, Attorney-at-law/Private investigator, right away; he’s expecting you,’ the note read. “Another strange instruction from Prof.” Mike smirked. Put your coat on, and let’s hit the road; we’re going to Wicker.” “What’s his address, Mikey?” “I don’t know; the bike will get us there.” Joycelyn rolled her eyes up the climbed onto the Enfield. She gripped Mike with all her strength.

The Enfield roared down the street. The Bike seemed to have a mind of its own. “Hold on to me, Joycelyn and lean as I lean – this bike is doing its own thing.” She was too afraid to open her mouth and answer him.

The Bike cut out alongside an old house, its white clapboard siding faded and peeling from years of exposure to the sun and rain. It had patched shingles of different colors and shapes, and the chimney leaned slightly to one side. A long veranda stretched across the front of the house, supported by wooden pillars wrapped with vines. Rocking chairs and flowerpots lined the verandah, inviting visitors to sit and enjoy the view. A large sign declared: Wicker K Jensen, Attorney-at-law/Private Investigator.

“What’s going on, Mikey? Please tell me.” Joycelyn appealed. “Just follow me and listen, and I will explain once we get back home – promise.” Her lips were downturned as she stared at Mike. He pushed the doorbell; becoming impatient, and about to try it again, the door opened suddenly. A man looking somewhat like a tall thin version of Scrooge greeted them. The man ushered them into a darkened office; its walls were ceiling-high with books. A redolent, not unpleasant, smell of leather and pipe tobacco greeted Mike’s nostrils.

 “Wicker K Jensen at your service,” He bowed slightly over his stooped shoulders. “Please sit; I have some papers for you to sign. “Prof sent…” “I know, Mikey; Prof filled me in.” “I have investigated the parody of Dick Frught and his mothers’ illegal collaboration with the laboratory, put together some facts, and taken appropriate steps.

 Sign these papers; it is a summons on Dick Frught and his mother, Jessica Fraught. They are facing a civil case of Fraud and bribery of a laboratory professional, Charles Westhuizen, to issue false information regarding your paternity dispute. We are suing for damages. After the Magistrate has ruled, we will hand the matter to the Police for criminal charges. You will be free to attend the court cases; otherwise, I will represent you.

Go now and enjoy your baby.”

© 2022 Peter-James Pienaar. All rights reserved

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