Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele
Part 3: House of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter Thirteen: Preparation
Monday, 21 November 1988 -- 34 weeks, 4 days
Remington took the lead at the four o’clock staff meeting, briefing the employees on attire, deportment
and appropriate statements. He stood, his posture absolutely correct, as he gestured with Old World
elegance.
“Affable, professional and don’t say a damned thing about any cases. Leave that to Miss--Mrs. Steele,”
he added with a cold smile. Laura merely straightened on her perch on the desk, not acknowledging his
slip. “Tomorrow is all about how we have the agency covered in this modern era of working mothers as
she takes a leave of absence, but also that she’ll be missed and welcomed back when she’s ready to
return.”
He lifted her hand in his, catching only her fingertips in a gracious manner. “We’ll be walking a fine line,
emphasizing Mrs. Steele’s importance without making it seem as if the agency will fall apart in her
absence. We know it won’t because of the excellently-trained staff and guidance of Ms. Krebs--who has
managed the agency during our lengthy absences in the past. Please stick to the script, ladies and
gentlemen. Any questions should be referred to Mrs. Steele or me.”
He dismissed the others from his office with a brief nod. Mildred shot Laura a quizzical look. She
pressed her lips and shook her head once. Later. Mildred nodded in understanding and left with the
others.
He gathered up the list of reporters who had been invited and set it on his desk. Laura decided that while
the Paul Fabrini persona was effective and would serve well at the press conference, she’d had enough of
it at the office that day. “Paul” could stay at the office. Remington had other things to do.
“There’s something else on our agenda,” she mentioned rather casually. Standing behind his desk, he
quirked an imperious brow and waited for her to finish. “Our childbirth classes start tonight. Mildred
says she’ll stay with Siobhán while we go to the hospital.”
The blank stare that came back to her reflected none of Paul and all of Remington. “Ah … ah, do I have
to go?”
“Did you get me pregnant?” she retorted, irritated that he would even ask.
“Actually, Mrs. Steele, I believe I must equally share the blame in that department with you.” The hint
of humor eased her annoyance, but she firmly suppressed her smile.
“Is that argument supposed to alleviate your … desire … to attend these classes with me,” she said
sweetly.
“Ah, no, of course not. I’m … looking forward to them,” he prevaricated. “Why wouldn’t I look
forward to learning how to best bring our precious child into this world?”
“Why indeed, Mr. Steele?” She left his office to gather her things, confident that Mr. Fabrini would stay
at the agency that evening.
Laura picked at her thumbnail as Remington drove them to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. He’d refused
to consider any other venue for the birth of their child. For once, she agreed without a qualm. Her
doctor delivered babies at Los Angeles County as well, but the Stanford Cardinal in her simply couldn’t
bear the idea of having a child so close to USC. Since Cedars happened to be conveniently located
between the agency and home, the decision appeared moot anyway.
She wished he would quit lecturing her. He loved to do that whenever his nerves jangled. At the
moment, she regretted leaving “Paul” at the agency. In that persona, Remington never lectured, only
charmed her and offered choice tidbits that made her laugh.
She’d insisted that Fred give her car back, and Remington drove it with one eye on the rearview mirror
the whole time.
“I don’t see why Fred couldn’t have dropped us at the hospital. It’s safer and far more comfortable for
you.”
She certainly didn’t need the reminder that sitting in the passenger seat could only be described as
“uncomfortable” at this stage of pregnancy. When she shifted, he reached over to adjust her seatbelt
again. This time she pushed his wrist away, admonishing him.
“Mr. Steele.”
Raising his hand in apology, he muttered, “Sorry, love.” She took his hand, dropping a kiss on the back
of it to settle him. He seemed to take that as a license to resume his scolding. “We really need to rethink
how much you drive, Laura. It’s getting to where your belly won’t fit under the steering wheel.”
Rolling her eyes, she tuned him out to stare through the windowpane. She loved the view of Los Angeles
as the city lit up in the darkening sky. She couldn’t quite admit to him that she didn’t want the limo
because she wanted this class--or anything to do with their baby--to be private. She’d walked a careful
line these last several months to ensure that Siobhán wasn’t excluded from their plans and preparations,
but as her due date drew closer, she’d found herself yearning for moments where she only had to be a
somewhat-terrified expectant mother instead of a level-headed mom to a nervous teen.
Surprisingly, Frances had become a stalwart supporter and seemed to understand her needs. During their
last phone call, she’d even suggested that the two of them take a little weekend trip together.
“I’m not trying to frighten you, Laura, but this is it--your last chance to be only a couple. After this, no
matter what, you’ll be parents first--and quite frankly, sister--sometimes you need something to hold on
to as a reminder of what you were before you were parents. It helps to realize that you’ll have that
again.”
“You are scaring me, Frances. You’re making it sound as if we’re about to suffer a major disaster.”
“Oh no, Laura. It’s only that the first few years aren’t easy. It's incredible, life-changing, and so full of
amazing surprises you’ll wonder why you waited to have children. But they are hard, Laura. I know
you and Remington are solid and that you love each other, but there will be times you'll need to
remember that--because you’ll wonder if it’s still true.”
Laura hadn’t bothered reminding Frances that she already had a daughter and a glimmer of
understanding. But her sister had only reinforced her resolve to carve out moments here and there
before their baby was born--and this class would be one of them.
Remington parked the car in the hospital parking lot. The lights of the building beamed out. She
automatically noted the cars streaming in and out of the driveway as she retrieved the required pillows
from the back seat of the Lexus. An ambulance paused outside the emergency room, and the ER team
retrieved an elderly man from the confines of the vehicle. The sudden thrumming of the helicopter rotors
as it lifted into the night sky set Laura’s heart to pounding. Remington took the pillows from her, and she
tugged her coat more securely over her front as they walked through the sliding doors.
The abrupt contrast of the bright quiet hallway didn’t do much to calm her. Remington must have
noticed her tension because he merely pointed the way after reading the bank of signs posted on the wall.
Three other couples looked up as they entered the room. With apprehension, Laura noted they were the
oldest of the bunch. One couple looked as if they were hardly out of their teens, and the other two had
that fresh, young-wedded look that spoke of marriage straight out of college. She exchanged a quick
glance with Rei. He skimmed a hand up her spine and caressed the nape of her neck, creating a shiver
that had nothing to do with nerves.
The tables and chairs dotted the back of the room, leaving the front floor space open. Wincing at the
sight of the hard plastic chair, Laura sat down. As they waited for the instructor, doubt crept into her
psyche. Had she waited too long for children? Would she be a good mother? Would Remington come
to resent the family life as it placed restrictions on the jet-setting lifestyle he’d enjoyed? Would she
resent it? Eyeing the younger couples, she failed to notice her breathing pattern speed up and her fingers
clutching convulsively over her husband’s hand.
Remington leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Damn good thing we didn’t do this at twenty. At least we
have enough sense to be petrified.”
Her hair swirled when she turned her head to flash him a smile. Calmer now, she settled back against his
other arm while a battle-hardened nurse with pale gray hair walked into the room.
Three hours, a candid video, a brief practice round of breathing techniques, and a tour of the maternity
ward later--not to mention all the interruptions so the four pregnant moms could trip off to the bathroom--
Remington strode out of the classroom in a daze, carrying the pillows in a white-knuckled grip. Laura
followed, feeling much more confident with the whole process. She didn’t miss his state of confusion
and dug for her own keys as they crossed the parking lot.
He didn’t lodge a protest when she slid into the driver’s seat, and she’d driven almost the entire distance
to their penthouse along Beverly Boulevard before he spoke again.
“I only saw Kate as she delivered Aiden. I wasn’t there for the labor. Laura--bloody hell, love--I had no
idea.”
“About what?”
“I hadn’t quite thought about how the little tyke would get into this world. … It looks as if it hurts,” he
added with reluctance.
“That’s what they tell me,” Laura replied. The baby suddenly protested being squished between the seat
belt and steering wheel and shoved out a hand to ward off the pressure. She pressed down on the bump,
hoping the little one would settle, to no avail. With the infant squirming and Remington munching
nervously on a toothpick, she sighed. After being with Kate while she delivered the twins, she had a
good idea of what labor entailed, and it didn’t seem to be much fun at all. One thing was certain,
Remington wasn’t wiggling out of being there every damned step of the way.
To distract him, she posed the one question guaranteed to garner his undivided attention. “Have you
thought any more about names?” He took such a long time to answer that Laura began to wonder if he’d
heard her. In the meantime, she fiddled with the air conditioning unit, dropping it down another couple
of degrees.
“Grace Elizabeth.”
Grace Elizabeth? “Elizabeth? I didn’t know you liked my middle name.”
“Siobhán’s middle name is ‘Elspeth,’ which happens to be the Irish form of ‘Elizabeth.’ The continuity
of all three of my girls having the same middle name has a great deal of appeal,” he said as he reached
across to touch fingers to her belly.
“And ‘Grace’ comes from?” she prompted.
“I like it,” he replied.
But Laura could hear the careful nonchalance in his tone. Skimming through the list of movies and
actresses she had stored in her memory, she bit her lip thoughtfully. Then she had it. “Grace Kelly, To
Catch a Thief, 1955. Um--”
“Paramount Pictures.”
A little smile played around her lips before they stretched wide. “I may have to let that one slip by. I like
it too, Mr. Steele.” Then she caught on to what he’d said. “You think we’re having a girl?”
He let out a slow breath. “Oh, I don’t know, love. I rather like the idea of a house full of females.
Siobhán’s not a foolish girl, and I can’t imagine a daughter from you would be any different. There’s an
appeal to all that.”
“Will you be disappointed if we have a son?” she asked with curiosity.
“Good Lord, no. A son would be … remarkable.” He scraped his other hand through his hair as she
pulled into their garage.
“Any names along that front?”
He shook his head. “No. Since you’ve nixed Sam and Nick, I’ve not found any I can settle on. You?”
She snorted. “Not yet. Although … I might let you get away with Nick since you keep coming back to
it.”
He touched his hand to her forehead as she turned off the ignition. “Laura, really, you must be coming
down with a fever. Two screen names for consideration?”
“You might take the concession while you can.”
At last the grin she’d been striving to evoke appeared. “I will at that. Nick Steele. Nicholas Steele.
Either suits. What about a middle name?”
“We’ll work on that. Right now, I need to get this kid out from under the steering wheel before he or she
squashes my internal organs again.” Clumsily, she opened the door and scooted out of the seat, only to
find that Remington had dashed around the car to offer her a hand as she tried to rise.
“I can’t let the mother of my children struggle out of a car, now can I?”
With his help, she leveraged into an upright position, panting slightly at the exertion. “Five more weeks.
I don’t know how I’m going to make it.
“Neither do I, Mrs. Steele; neither do I.”
She let out a huff of exasperation in answer to his chuckle.
He stopped her from walking toward the elevator with a caress of knuckles to her cheek. “I’m sorry
about today, love. I have to have something that allows me to put away the fear long enough to do what
we have to do. I don’t know any other way.”
“I know, Remington. But you can’t close me out too--not entirely.”
“I’ll work on that,” he promised.
“Do.”
6 November 2009
Chapter Fourteen: False Trails
Monday, 21 November 1988 -- 34 weeks, 4 days
Remington took the lead at the four o’clock staff meeting, briefing the employees on attire, deportment
and appropriate statements. He stood, his posture absolutely correct, as he gestured with Old World
elegance.
“Affable, professional and don’t say a damned thing about any cases. Leave that to Miss--Mrs. Steele,”
he added with a cold smile. Laura merely straightened on her perch on the desk, not acknowledging his
slip. “Tomorrow is all about how we have the agency covered in this modern era of working mothers as
she takes a leave of absence, but also that she’ll be missed and welcomed back when she’s ready to
return.”
He lifted her hand in his, catching only her fingertips in a gracious manner. “We’ll be walking a fine line,
emphasizing Mrs. Steele’s importance without making it seem as if the agency will fall apart in her
absence. We know it won’t because of the excellently-trained staff and guidance of Ms. Krebs--who has
managed the agency during our lengthy absences in the past. Please stick to the script, ladies and
gentlemen. Any questions should be referred to Mrs. Steele or me.”
He dismissed the others from his office with a brief nod. Mildred shot Laura a quizzical look. She
pressed her lips and shook her head once. Later. Mildred nodded in understanding and left with the
others.
He gathered up the list of reporters who had been invited and set it on his desk. Laura decided that while
the Paul Fabrini persona was effective and would serve well at the press conference, she’d had enough of
it at the office that day. “Paul” could stay at the office. Remington had other things to do.
“There’s something else on our agenda,” she mentioned rather casually. Standing behind his desk, he
quirked an imperious brow and waited for her to finish. “Our childbirth classes start tonight. Mildred
says she’ll stay with Siobhán while we go to the hospital.”
The blank stare that came back to her reflected none of Paul and all of Remington. “Ah … ah, do I have
to go?”
“Did you get me pregnant?” she retorted, irritated that he would even ask.
“Actually, Mrs. Steele, I believe I must equally share the blame in that department with you.” The hint
of humor eased her annoyance, but she firmly suppressed her smile.
“Is that argument supposed to alleviate your … desire … to attend these classes with me,” she said
sweetly.
“Ah, no, of course not. I’m … looking forward to them,” he prevaricated. “Why wouldn’t I look
forward to learning how to best bring our precious child into this world?”
“Why indeed, Mr. Steele?” She left his office to gather her things, confident that Mr. Fabrini would stay
at the agency that evening.
Laura picked at her thumbnail as Remington drove them to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. He’d refused
to consider any other venue for the birth of their child. For once, she agreed without a qualm. Her
doctor delivered babies at Los Angeles County as well, but the Stanford Cardinal in her simply couldn’t
bear the idea of having a child so close to USC. Since Cedars happened to be conveniently located
between the agency and home, the decision appeared moot anyway.
She wished he would quit lecturing her. He loved to do that whenever his nerves jangled. At the
moment, she regretted leaving “Paul” at the agency. In that persona, Remington never lectured, only
charmed her and offered choice tidbits that made her laugh.
She’d insisted that Fred give her car back, and Remington drove it with one eye on the rearview mirror
the whole time.
“I don’t see why Fred couldn’t have dropped us at the hospital. It’s safer and far more comfortable for
you.”
She certainly didn’t need the reminder that sitting in the passenger seat could only be described as
“uncomfortable” at this stage of pregnancy. When she shifted, he reached over to adjust her seatbelt
again. This time she pushed his wrist away, admonishing him.
“Mr. Steele.”
Raising his hand in apology, he muttered, “Sorry, love.” She took his hand, dropping a kiss on the back
of it to settle him. He seemed to take that as a license to resume his scolding. “We really need to rethink
how much you drive, Laura. It’s getting to where your belly won’t fit under the steering wheel.”
Rolling her eyes, she tuned him out to stare through the windowpane. She loved the view of Los Angeles
as the city lit up in the darkening sky. She couldn’t quite admit to him that she didn’t want the limo
because she wanted this class--or anything to do with their baby--to be private. She’d walked a careful
line these last several months to ensure that Siobhán wasn’t excluded from their plans and preparations,
but as her due date drew closer, she’d found herself yearning for moments where she only had to be a
somewhat-terrified expectant mother instead of a level-headed mom to a nervous teen.
Surprisingly, Frances had become a stalwart supporter and seemed to understand her needs. During their
last phone call, she’d even suggested that the two of them take a little weekend trip together.
“I’m not trying to frighten you, Laura, but this is it--your last chance to be only a couple. After this, no
matter what, you’ll be parents first--and quite frankly, sister--sometimes you need something to hold on
to as a reminder of what you were before you were parents. It helps to realize that you’ll have that
again.”
“You are scaring me, Frances. You’re making it sound as if we’re about to suffer a major disaster.”
“Oh no, Laura. It’s only that the first few years aren’t easy. It's incredible, life-changing, and so full of
amazing surprises you’ll wonder why you waited to have children. But they are hard, Laura. I know
you and Remington are solid and that you love each other, but there will be times you'll need to
remember that--because you’ll wonder if it’s still true.”
Laura hadn’t bothered reminding Frances that she already had a daughter and a glimmer of
understanding. But her sister had only reinforced her resolve to carve out moments here and there
before their baby was born--and this class would be one of them.
Remington parked the car in the hospital parking lot. The lights of the building beamed out. She
automatically noted the cars streaming in and out of the driveway as she retrieved the required pillows
from the back seat of the Lexus. An ambulance paused outside the emergency room, and the ER team
retrieved an elderly man from the confines of the vehicle. The sudden thrumming of the helicopter rotors
as it lifted into the night sky set Laura’s heart to pounding. Remington took the pillows from her, and she
tugged her coat more securely over her front as they walked through the sliding doors.
The abrupt contrast of the bright quiet hallway didn’t do much to calm her. Remington must have
noticed her tension because he merely pointed the way after reading the bank of signs posted on the wall.
Three other couples looked up as they entered the room. With apprehension, Laura noted they were the
oldest of the bunch. One couple looked as if they were hardly out of their teens, and the other two had
that fresh, young-wedded look that spoke of marriage straight out of college. She exchanged a quick
glance with Rei. He skimmed a hand up her spine and caressed the nape of her neck, creating a shiver
that had nothing to do with nerves.
The tables and chairs dotted the back of the room, leaving the front floor space open. Wincing at the
sight of the hard plastic chair, Laura sat down. As they waited for the instructor, doubt crept into her
psyche. Had she waited too long for children? Would she be a good mother? Would Remington come
to resent the family life as it placed restrictions on the jet-setting lifestyle he’d enjoyed? Would she
resent it? Eyeing the younger couples, she failed to notice her breathing pattern speed up and her fingers
clutching convulsively over her husband’s hand.
Remington leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Damn good thing we didn’t do this at twenty. At least we
have enough sense to be petrified.”
Her hair swirled when she turned her head to flash him a smile. Calmer now, she settled back against his
other arm while a battle-hardened nurse with pale gray hair walked into the room.
Three hours, a candid video, a brief practice round of breathing techniques, and a tour of the maternity
ward later--not to mention all the interruptions so the four pregnant moms could trip off to the bathroom--
Remington strode out of the classroom in a daze, carrying the pillows in a white-knuckled grip. Laura
followed, feeling much more confident with the whole process. She didn’t miss his state of confusion
and dug for her own keys as they crossed the parking lot.
He didn’t lodge a protest when she slid into the driver’s seat, and she’d driven almost the entire distance
to their penthouse along Beverly Boulevard before he spoke again.
“I only saw Kate as she delivered Aiden. I wasn’t there for the labor. Laura--bloody hell, love--I had no
idea.”
“About what?”
“I hadn’t quite thought about how the little tyke would get into this world. … It looks as if it hurts,” he
added with reluctance.
“That’s what they tell me,” Laura replied. The baby suddenly protested being squished between the seat
belt and steering wheel and shoved out a hand to ward off the pressure. She pressed down on the bump,
hoping the little one would settle, to no avail. With the infant squirming and Remington munching
nervously on a toothpick, she sighed. After being with Kate while she delivered the twins, she had a
good idea of what labor entailed, and it didn’t seem to be much fun at all. One thing was certain,
Remington wasn’t wiggling out of being there every damned step of the way.
To distract him, she posed the one question guaranteed to garner his undivided attention. “Have you
thought any more about names?” He took such a long time to answer that Laura began to wonder if he’d
heard her. In the meantime, she fiddled with the air conditioning unit, dropping it down another couple
of degrees.
“Grace Elizabeth.”
Grace Elizabeth? “Elizabeth? I didn’t know you liked my middle name.”
“Siobhán’s middle name is ‘Elspeth,’ which happens to be the Irish form of ‘Elizabeth.’ The continuity
of all three of my girls having the same middle name has a great deal of appeal,” he said as he reached
across to touch fingers to her belly.
“And ‘Grace’ comes from?” she prompted.
“I like it,” he replied.
But Laura could hear the careful nonchalance in his tone. Skimming through the list of movies and
actresses she had stored in her memory, she bit her lip thoughtfully. Then she had it. “Grace Kelly, To
Catch a Thief, 1955. Um--”
“Paramount Pictures.”
A little smile played around her lips before they stretched wide. “I may have to let that one slip by. I like
it too, Mr. Steele.” Then she caught on to what he’d said. “You think we’re having a girl?”
He let out a slow breath. “Oh, I don’t know, love. I rather like the idea of a house full of females.
Siobhán’s not a foolish girl, and I can’t imagine a daughter from you would be any different. There’s an
appeal to all that.”
“Will you be disappointed if we have a son?” she asked with curiosity.
“Good Lord, no. A son would be … remarkable.” He scraped his other hand through his hair as she
pulled into their garage.
“Any names along that front?”
He shook his head. “No. Since you’ve nixed Sam and Nick, I’ve not found any I can settle on. You?”
She snorted. “Not yet. Although … I might let you get away with Nick since you keep coming back to
it.”
He touched his hand to her forehead as she turned off the ignition. “Laura, really, you must be coming
down with a fever. Two screen names for consideration?”
“You might take the concession while you can.”
At last the grin she’d been striving to evoke appeared. “I will at that. Nick Steele. Nicholas Steele.
Either suits. What about a middle name?”
“We’ll work on that. Right now, I need to get this kid out from under the steering wheel before he or she
squashes my internal organs again.” Clumsily, she opened the door and scooted out of the seat, only to
find that Remington had dashed around the car to offer her a hand as she tried to rise.
“I can’t let the mother of my children struggle out of a car, now can I?”
With his help, she leveraged into an upright position, panting slightly at the exertion. “Five more weeks.
I don’t know how I’m going to make it.
“Neither do I, Mrs. Steele; neither do I.”
She let out a huff of exasperation in answer to his chuckle.
He stopped her from walking toward the elevator with a caress of knuckles to her cheek. “I’m sorry
about today, love. I have to have something that allows me to put away the fear long enough to do what
we have to do. I don’t know any other way.”
“I know, Remington. But you can’t close me out too--not entirely.”
“I’ll work on that,” he promised.
“Do.”
6 November 2009
Chapter Fourteen: False Trails