After the death of his wife, a man struggles to raise his triplets, believing they belong to him. One day, however, he meets a stranger in the cemetery and learns that the babies he has devoted so long to raising are not really his.
Dry, rotten brown leaves crunched beneath Jordan Fox’s shoes as he pushed the pram into the ornate gates of a Manhattan cemetery. Dried flowers and half-burned candles were scattered across the lawn. A gust of wind blew through the rows of eastern red cedars, breaking the grave silence as he made his way to the grave of his late wife, Kira. It was the first anniversary of her death.
‘We’re going to see Mum…’ – he said to baby Alan, one of the triplets, leaning his voluminous nappy body on his left hip. The other two, Eric and Stan, were lying in the pram, looking up at the sky and babbling when they saw the dragonflies.
As Jordan approached the grave, his heart raced at the sight of the silhouette of a stranger, looking to be in his fifties, standing beside Kira’s grave. The man adjusted his Irish cap, bending down to touch the headstone with the epitaph: ‘The sparkle in our eyes and hearts is now in the sky. – In memory of Kira Fox.
Jordan struggled to remember, but couldn’t recognise the tall, stout man. ‘Who is he and what is he doing near my wife’s grave?’ – He wondered and walked over to him….
‘Amen!’ – said the man with a wry grin as he finished the sign of the cross and turned grimly to greet Jordan. He smiled, and there was impatience in his eyes as he raised his hand for a handshake, but withdrew it as soon as his gaze shifted to the babies.
Jordan raised his eyebrows in surprise. He wanted to know who this guy was and what he was doing at Kira’s grave. As far as Jordan could remember, he’d never seen this man before…not even at Kira’s funeral. ‘So who is he? And what’s he doing here?’ Jordan was puzzled.
‘I’m offering you a hundred thousand dollars! I’m willing to give you more if you want it. Take the money and give me the children.’
‘You must be Jordan Fox… Nice to meet you, Mr Fox,’ the guy pronounced. ‘I knew you were coming here today, and I’ve been waiting for you. I’m Denis… from Chicago… an ‘old’ mate of Kira’s.’
Jordan was a little surprised because Kira had never told him about having such an old friend from Chicago named Denis.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Denis. I’m not sure I know you… Have we met before? I haven’t been to Chicago before.’
‘Not really! I’ve just arrived in Manhattan. I found out that…’ Denis paused and fell silent, seeing the little ones again. ‘Can I look at your babies…if that’s okay?’
Jordan hesitated and pretended to ignore the man’s request because he wasn’t ready to entrust his babies to a stranger. Denis took it as a rejection, but didn’t fail to step forward and lean over the pram to look at the other two babies.
‘They are angels! Little sweet cinnamon buns! They have my nose and eyes… and brown hair…’ ‘And those big eyelashes… I had them when I was little!’ – muttered Denis. Then he looked up and said something Jordan wasn’t ready to hear.
‘Mr Fox, I know this may not make any sense to you, but…I know you’re wondering who I am and why I’m here. I’m the boys’ REAL father, and I’m here to take them away.’
‘TAKE THEM AWAY??’ Jordan frowned, and he felt like punching the man in the face for even saying that. He pitied him for his age and tried to rush past him, figuring the man had lost his mind.
‘Mr Fox, please believe me. I am the father of these children. The mistake I made in the past still haunts me. I want to correct it before it’s too late. Please send the children with me. I even have an amazing offer for you.’
‘Are you out of your mind, old man? Get out of my way before I call the police,’ Jordan gripped the pram with baby Alan tighter and ignored the guy.
But Denis didn’t budge and began recounting intricate details about the late Kira that left Jordan stunned.
‘Kira, your wife… She loved disco and bicycles… Was a brunette with a taste for art and French cuisine… Soup a la hoyon and crème brûlée were her favourite dishes. She had a peanut allergy and a small burn scar on her right thigh… and she had this…’
‘STOP…STOP!’ shouted Jordan. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about my wife. Who the hell are you and how do you know all this? What do you want?’
‘I told you I’m the father of her children. Mr Fox, I know this is weird, and I can’t get custody of my kids. I know that, okay? But I’m sure you won’t want to waste your youth on them and will be grateful for my company in raising them. You’re young and charming and have your whole life ahead of you. But look at me. I’m old, and I have no one but these little ones. I want them back. Please give them to me and move on with your life.’