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 Twenty-Six: Command Performance
Friday, 9 December 1988 -- 37 weeks, 1 day
Detective Baylor arrived at the Steele’s penthouse at five-thirty sharp. During the long drive, Laura
made notes in the stack of files she had brought: questions to ask, leads to pursue, and people to contact.
Remington and John discussed the Rams last game--or rather, John analyzed it as he navigated traffic
while Remington made agreeable noises from the back seat.
She bit her lip to hide a smile while she wrote. She had made an agreement with her husband sometime
ago. He still didn’t quite get all the nuances of the game, and she mercilessly teased him about it during
football season. But only the family knew, courtesy of Murphy’s helpful observations about Remington's
lack of understanding, and she kept her promise to give him key highlights each week so that he could
hold his head up whenever the men around him shot the breeze about the latest game. With two facts
and a player’s name, he could create the impression of a play-by-play commentator.
The baby began rolling about, distracting Laura from her papers. Grimacing, she set her file to the side
and placed counter-pressure where a foot pressed under her rib.
Seeing the motion, John glanced over to where she sat in the passenger seat. “I don’t know how women
do it. That doesn’t look like fun.”
Blowing out her breath, she responded, “It’s been interesting until about a week ago. Now, I’m just
ready for this kid to get here.”
“My wife said the same thing with both kids. She had great pregnancies, but by the time we hit eight
months, she would have paid nearly anyone to do a C-section. Fortunately, her doctor had a little more
sense.”
“I think it’s a requirement to be an obstetrician.” The baby retracted the foot and tucked it under her
sternum with the other one. That was better. No pain, but she couldn’t breathe. Giving up, she closed
her eyes and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. Casually, without a word, Remington stretched out
in the backseat, draping one arm along the door frame so that he could reach behind her and stroke the
ends of her hair.
Comforted by his touch, the early morning caught up with her. She closed her eyes, listening to
Remington’s voice as he made idle conversation.
At Lompoc Federal Prison, a guard escorted the three detectives to a pair of rooms with a large table in
the middle of the one on the right. Laura and Remington stood behind the glass in the second room to
watch the interview.
Laura hoped the Major would respond better to the police detective than he might to her and Remington.
After all, the Steeles had been his adversary for more than seven years.
Major Descoine, looking pale and thin from his years of incarceration, hadn’t lost any of his contentious
nature in that time. His escort took a firm stance at the door while the man sat across from the detective.
John took the file Laura had assembled and placed it on the table. “Mr. Descoine,” he started.
“Major.”
Detective Baylor looked up, expressionless. “Major Descoine, I’m here to request your assistance.”
“You want my help? With what?”
“With your daughter, Penny, Major.”
“Why?”
“We’ve got evidence she’s been stalking a family in Los Angeles. Restraining orders have been filed, but
we’ve been unable to locate her. We’re concerned about her, Major. So far there’s no indication of a
physical threat, but she continues to send pictures to the family, some as recently as yesterday.”
Descoine only laughed. “There’s only one family she’d have any interest in: the Steeles. I hope she
scares the hell out of them.”
“Major, we don’t want anything to happen to your daughter.”
“Oh, you won’t catch her,” the former soldier said with assurance.
The detective slid a pair of photographs across the table. “We’ve identified her, Major. It’s only a
matter of time before we have her in custody.”
“Then why did you bother coming to see me?”
“Because as of this moment, she’s only taking pictures. We need to talk with her and find out her
reasons. If she’s not a threat and agrees to stop, she goes free. If she is a threat, we have an opportunity
to get her some help--if she wants it. But if we wait around until she hurts or kills someone. … Do you
want her to have your life? Here in prison?”
The Major only laughed eerily. “You won’t find her. She’s made sure of that. I’m finished talking to
you. Guard, take me back to my room,” he ordered.
The guard escorted him from the room. Without a word, Laura and Remington walked into the hallway
in time to see Major Descoine look around.
In surprise, he took in Remington’s hand on Laura’s shoulder and her obvious pregnancy. Then he
laughed, long and hard, before he turned away.
Remington stepped back into the room, out of view, and drove his fist into the wall.
On the way home, Laura quietly asked John, “Do you have enough for a search warrant?”
“Depends on how well I can convince a judge. It’s slim, but we’ll try.”
“If you go, be aware that the house is probably booby-trapped.”
John gave Laura an annoyed look. “I don’t even want to know how you know that.”
“It’s best that you don’t,” she replied innocently.
After a quick return trip, John dropped both of them at the penthouse in plenty of time for Remington to
retrieve Siobhán from school.
Laura spent the next hour in their home office. Calling Mildred topped her to-do list. Dealing with the
stack of boxes the shipping company had left with the doorman came second.
Mildred’s cheerful voice calmed her. “How did the meet go?”
“Not good, Mildred. What have you found out so far?”
“I’ve worked through all the major area colleges and the community colleges. Bupkis. Now I’m
working on the private ones. They’re a little harder, but Ian’s got a few tricks up his sleeve on that side.”
“We’ll make a detective out of him yet.” Laura tried to keep her tone light.
“I’ve been working on that for two and a half years, Mrs. Steele.”
“Keep trying. I’ll see you tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”
The doorman brought up eight good-sized boxes. Laura directed him to put them in the guest bedroom
across from the nursery.
Laura did her best to ignore them while she cleaned up her office. She heard Remington and Siobhán
come home. She saw Siobhán head straight for the piano to practice again before the recital. Remington
hesitated in the doorway, staring blankly at his daughter, when Laura touched his arm.
“What is it?” she asked.
Dropping a mask over his face, he shook his head and said quietly, “Sorry. Ah, I’m for the gym.”
She drew her brows together. “Don’t forget Siobhán’s concert. We need to leave at six.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there.”
Only after he left did she realize she hadn’t told him about the boxes from Ireland.
At six, Fred brought the limo around. Laura herded a nervous Siobhán into the car. She took special
care to conceal her annoyance at Remington’s absence and had to assure Siobhán several times that her
Da would be in attendance. If he missed the recital, Detective Jarvis would have to arrest her when they
found Remington’s lifeless body washing up on the morning tide of the Pacific coast.
Mildred and the Dragon Ladies arrived at ten minutes before seven with raised brows at the empty chair
next to Laura. She gave her associate a polite smile that didn’t conceal her annoyance in the slightest.
But as the curtains opened, Remington slid into the empty seat holding a bouquet of pale pink roses.
“Sorry, love. Took me a bit longer at the florist’s than I anticipated. Have I missed anything?” he
whispered as he unbuttoned his tailored coat and kissed her cheek.
Laura softened as she saw the flowers. He’d found a half dozen perfectly formed buds in the palest of
pinks, perfect for a young girl after her first performance--trust Remington not to forget the details.
She wove her fingers with his, absently stroking his knuckles with her thumb until she felt a slight jerk
under her hand. Looking carefully, she saw a patch of red where he’d pounded the skin raw. He caught
her look and kissed the back of her hand. “It’s all right, Laura.” He grinned at her and said in a soft
voice in her ear, “Score’s still three-zip as far as I’m concerned. We’ll catch her.”
His unmistakable confidence settled her. Taking one more long look at his profile, she turned to pay
attention to the student currently performing.
The two-hour recital had most of the men in the audience shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting with their
jackets and collars--except for Remington. Either Daniel’s tutelage or Rei’s own love of any kind of
performance meant that he sat in polite attention for the whole of the show.
When Siobhán approached the piano on stage, his hand tensed over Laura’s. It stayed that way
throughout their daughter’s beautiful solo. Siobhán’s love of music was evident in both the classical
Paganini Rhapsody and the original jazz piece flavored with a strong hint of New Orleans that she’d
composed. By the time she’d finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in at least one row of chairs in the school
auditorium.
Laura stole Rei’s handkerchief from his hand to catch the tears of pride spilling from her lashes.
After the recital, the performers poured off the stage where they'd taken their bows. Siobhán scanned
the crowded room for them. Remington waved to her.
“Mom! I did it!” Siobhán bounced in her heels as she found them.
Laura caught Siobhán’s face in her hands and kissed her in joy. “Lovely, Siobhán. Absolutely lovely.”
When the ecstatic girl turned, she exclaimed, “Da! You made it!”
Remington brought out the flowers he'd held behind his back. He kissed her on both cheeks in classic
European style saying, “I wouldn’t have missed seeing you play, Siobhán Steele.”
“Flowers? For me?” The girl melted and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Da!”
Laura saw his blue eyes glisten. While Siobhan danced away to show off her roses to Mildred and the
Dragon Ladies, Remington reached for her arm and tucked it in his, reverting to formalities as he
gathered his composure once again.
All throughout dinner, Siobhán fingered her roses, sniffing them and toying with the stems.
Laura woke the next morning to the sound of an argument in full sail across the living room. She sat up,
wincing as all the aches and pains in her lower back made themselves known. Regretting the heels she
wore last night, she straightened and focused on the verbal potshots Remington and Siobhán were
taking at each other. Shrugging on her robe, she crossed the front and tied a knot in the sash.
Neither of them noticed her as she eased the bedroom door open.
“You can’t keep me inside this house forever, Da!”
“Siobhán, I rather doubt anyone can accuse me of keeping you in this house.”
“Oh, sure. You’ll take me anywhere I want--the office, school, dinner, the movies--as long as you go
along. But with my girlfriends? It’s not like I’m asking to go to a party or, or … a club! All I want to do
is go to a movie with Jennifer and Caitlyn tonight.”
Remington paced at one end of the living room, hand on his reddened forehead. “Not now, Siobhán.
It’s not safe right now.”
“Not safe? Not safe? Now you sound like Johnny!” Siobhán snapped.
Laura interrupted, her voice calm as she stepped into the arena. “Is there any reason we can’t drive the
girls, Rei?”
But Siobhán interjected, “Caitlyn’s mom said she would pick me up.”
Remington immediately grimaced and opened his mouth to speak. Laura shot him a quelling look across
the room. He subsided, stalking into the kitchen.
“Siobhán, I agree with Remington.” Laura saw him glance back at her in gratitude. “We don’t know
who is taking pictures. We’re trained to deal with scary people; Caitlyn’s mom isn’t.” Shocked, the teen
crossed her arms in anger and began to retort when Laura held up her hand and continued, “However--”
Laura raised her eyebrows at Remington. “We can meet your friends at the theater. We’ll sit behind
you--far enough that we can’t hear whatever you girls are giggling over, but close enough that we can see
if anyone threatens you. Rei, we don't have any plans for the evening, do we?”
Conceding, he said with an edge in his voice, “No, I think not.”
Siobhán sulked, muttering in Gaelic under her breath.
Laura missed the meaning, but Remington didn’t. “That’s enough, Siobhán,” he snapped. “I’ll not have
that kind of impertinence in our home. Laura’s suggestion is more than fair. If you don’t like it, we can
certainly stay home this evening instead.”
Taken aback by his tone, Siobhán subsided, but not without an angry glint in her eye and a mutinous
pout as she stalked into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door.
Remington touched his fingertips to his forehead. Laura caught the hurt in his blue eyes before he
escaped onto the terrace.
Laura joined Siobhán in the kitchen, pouring water from the tea pot someone had heated. She stayed
silent, waiting for her daughter to speak. Only when Siobhán turned and realized that Remington was
standing on the terrace did the glower slide away, replaced by regret.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I know.”
Siobhán dropped her gaze to the countertop, then heaved a sigh before squaring her shoulders to go
outside. Laura watched as the pair leaned on the terrace rail. For several minutes, they stayed that way.
The dull throb came back to distract Laura. She set down her teacup, hoping a hot shower would ease
the soreness.
Remington found her there but knew better than to surprise her. Early in their marriage, he’d slipped into
the shower once while she washed her hair with the intention of taking advantage of her lithe, naked
form. He’d received a half-full shampoo bottle to the nose before Laura had broken up in horrified
laughter at her automatic defensive instinct.
She’d soothed away his indignity in a most enchanting way, but the overall experience was one he’d
rather not repeat. He leaned against the doorway, admiring her gravid state.
When she stepped out, with one towel knotted just above her bust and another wrapped around her hair,
she grimaced before noticing him.
“Something wrong?”
Concealing her expression, she shook her head. “Oh--uh, my back is sore. It’s better after my shower.”
He started to admonish her about needing to rest but checked himself. He’d already had one volatile
“discussion” with one of the ladies in his life; no need to start another one.
The right side of Laura’s mouth curved up. “No comment about resting?”
“Ah, no, actually. I imagine you’re perfectly capable of making your own decisions regarding your health
and that of our child.”
She grinned. “Nicely put. I’ll tell you what. If you and Siobhán get the Christmas tree from the storage
closet, I’ll put my feet up as long as you two are decorating it.”
“That’s bribery,” he accused.
“Absolutely.” Her pale face only accentuated the sparkle in her eyes.
Remington slid the towel from her head and, diving hands into her wet hair, warmed his lips on hers in a
deep, intoxicating kiss. “In that case, it’s very effective. But first, I’ll bake the sugar cookies that are
chilling in the refrigerator.”
Her face lit up in delight. “Can I help?”
“Yes, but first tell me when the shipment arrived from Ireland.” He stroked her cheek before handing
her the towel he’d dropped on the floor.
She admonished with a finger to his lips, “Yesterday afternoon while you picked up Siobhán from
school.”
“Ah, that’s how I missed it.”
“Do you want to go through the boxes?” Laura rubbed her hair and gave him a sideways glance.
“Siobhán’s already unpacked a great deal of them as most of them belong to her.”
“What about the others?”
“We’ll look at them later.”
That afternoon, while the scent of freshly baked cookies filled the flat and a tray of the same sat on the
coffee table where they could be easily snitched, Laura untangled the lights from her spot on the couch
while Remington and Siobhán sorted through ornaments.
The teen’s sad expression didn’t go unnoticed by either Laura or Remington.
“What’s wrong, a stór?” he asked.
“Oh, I, uh, didn’t think to go through the Christmas ornaments at Johnny’s house. I wish I had.”
Remington flashed a smile. “Hold that thought, Siobhán.” He retrieved one of the three remaining boxes
and brought it into the living room, setting it at Laura’s feet. “I called DeeDee before we left. I’d had
the thought that she would know better than either of us what should be kept in the family. Your
solicitor took her through the house.”
Siobhan held her breath in anticipation as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. He smiled as he spoke,
“There are a couple of pieces of furniture and a few larger things that she insisted we keep--those will be
shipped later. But knowing the holidays are coming, she sent on a number of smaller items, including
Christmas ornaments the two of you made over the years and some handed down through the family.
Have a look.” He indicated she should open the box.
For the rest of the afternoon, the Steeles decorated the tree, happily arguing over stringing the lights,
where to hang the ornaments and how to drape tinsel. Laura told any number of silly stories about her
sisters and the truly awful decorations they’d created. Remington proudly showed Siobhán the ones he
and Laura had purchased together in the last two years, and Siobhán shared what she knew of the
decorations DeeDee had sent.
In that afternoon, the little family created a whole host of new happy memories.
That evening, Laura and Remington took Siobhán to see Scrooged (Bill Murray, Paramount Pictures,
1988). They sat the promised ten rows back and on the other side of the aisle so they had a good view
of the girls. The show proved entertaining enough that Laura had to remind herself to keep an eye on
Siobhán. But the show came off without incident.
The trip to the restroom afterward, however, set off a dramatic chain of events no one had anticipated.
11 November 2009
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Dissonance
Friday, 9 December 1988 -- 37 weeks, 1 day
Detective Baylor arrived at the Steele’s penthouse at five-thirty sharp. During the long drive, Laura
made notes in the stack of files she had brought: questions to ask, leads to pursue, and people to contact.
Remington and John discussed the Rams last game--or rather, John analyzed it as he navigated traffic
while Remington made agreeable noises from the back seat.
She bit her lip to hide a smile while she wrote. She had made an agreement with her husband sometime
ago. He still didn’t quite get all the nuances of the game, and she mercilessly teased him about it during
football season. But only the family knew, courtesy of Murphy’s helpful observations about Remington's
lack of understanding, and she kept her promise to give him key highlights each week so that he could
hold his head up whenever the men around him shot the breeze about the latest game. With two facts
and a player’s name, he could create the impression of a play-by-play commentator.
The baby began rolling about, distracting Laura from her papers. Grimacing, she set her file to the side
and placed counter-pressure where a foot pressed under her rib.
Seeing the motion, John glanced over to where she sat in the passenger seat. “I don’t know how women
do it. That doesn’t look like fun.”
Blowing out her breath, she responded, “It’s been interesting until about a week ago. Now, I’m just
ready for this kid to get here.”
“My wife said the same thing with both kids. She had great pregnancies, but by the time we hit eight
months, she would have paid nearly anyone to do a C-section. Fortunately, her doctor had a little more
sense.”
“I think it’s a requirement to be an obstetrician.” The baby retracted the foot and tucked it under her
sternum with the other one. That was better. No pain, but she couldn’t breathe. Giving up, she closed
her eyes and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. Casually, without a word, Remington stretched out
in the backseat, draping one arm along the door frame so that he could reach behind her and stroke the
ends of her hair.
Comforted by his touch, the early morning caught up with her. She closed her eyes, listening to
Remington’s voice as he made idle conversation.
At Lompoc Federal Prison, a guard escorted the three detectives to a pair of rooms with a large table in
the middle of the one on the right. Laura and Remington stood behind the glass in the second room to
watch the interview.
Laura hoped the Major would respond better to the police detective than he might to her and Remington.
After all, the Steeles had been his adversary for more than seven years.
Major Descoine, looking pale and thin from his years of incarceration, hadn’t lost any of his contentious
nature in that time. His escort took a firm stance at the door while the man sat across from the detective.
John took the file Laura had assembled and placed it on the table. “Mr. Descoine,” he started.
“Major.”
Detective Baylor looked up, expressionless. “Major Descoine, I’m here to request your assistance.”
“You want my help? With what?”
“With your daughter, Penny, Major.”
“Why?”
“We’ve got evidence she’s been stalking a family in Los Angeles. Restraining orders have been filed, but
we’ve been unable to locate her. We’re concerned about her, Major. So far there’s no indication of a
physical threat, but she continues to send pictures to the family, some as recently as yesterday.”
Descoine only laughed. “There’s only one family she’d have any interest in: the Steeles. I hope she
scares the hell out of them.”
“Major, we don’t want anything to happen to your daughter.”
“Oh, you won’t catch her,” the former soldier said with assurance.
The detective slid a pair of photographs across the table. “We’ve identified her, Major. It’s only a
matter of time before we have her in custody.”
“Then why did you bother coming to see me?”
“Because as of this moment, she’s only taking pictures. We need to talk with her and find out her
reasons. If she’s not a threat and agrees to stop, she goes free. If she is a threat, we have an opportunity
to get her some help--if she wants it. But if we wait around until she hurts or kills someone. … Do you
want her to have your life? Here in prison?”
The Major only laughed eerily. “You won’t find her. She’s made sure of that. I’m finished talking to
you. Guard, take me back to my room,” he ordered.
The guard escorted him from the room. Without a word, Laura and Remington walked into the hallway
in time to see Major Descoine look around.
In surprise, he took in Remington’s hand on Laura’s shoulder and her obvious pregnancy. Then he
laughed, long and hard, before he turned away.
Remington stepped back into the room, out of view, and drove his fist into the wall.
On the way home, Laura quietly asked John, “Do you have enough for a search warrant?”
“Depends on how well I can convince a judge. It’s slim, but we’ll try.”
“If you go, be aware that the house is probably booby-trapped.”
John gave Laura an annoyed look. “I don’t even want to know how you know that.”
“It’s best that you don’t,” she replied innocently.
After a quick return trip, John dropped both of them at the penthouse in plenty of time for Remington to
retrieve Siobhán from school.
Laura spent the next hour in their home office. Calling Mildred topped her to-do list. Dealing with the
stack of boxes the shipping company had left with the doorman came second.
Mildred’s cheerful voice calmed her. “How did the meet go?”
“Not good, Mildred. What have you found out so far?”
“I’ve worked through all the major area colleges and the community colleges. Bupkis. Now I’m
working on the private ones. They’re a little harder, but Ian’s got a few tricks up his sleeve on that side.”
“We’ll make a detective out of him yet.” Laura tried to keep her tone light.
“I’ve been working on that for two and a half years, Mrs. Steele.”
“Keep trying. I’ll see you tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”
The doorman brought up eight good-sized boxes. Laura directed him to put them in the guest bedroom
across from the nursery.
Laura did her best to ignore them while she cleaned up her office. She heard Remington and Siobhán
come home. She saw Siobhán head straight for the piano to practice again before the recital. Remington
hesitated in the doorway, staring blankly at his daughter, when Laura touched his arm.
“What is it?” she asked.
Dropping a mask over his face, he shook his head and said quietly, “Sorry. Ah, I’m for the gym.”
She drew her brows together. “Don’t forget Siobhán’s concert. We need to leave at six.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there.”
Only after he left did she realize she hadn’t told him about the boxes from Ireland.
At six, Fred brought the limo around. Laura herded a nervous Siobhán into the car. She took special
care to conceal her annoyance at Remington’s absence and had to assure Siobhán several times that her
Da would be in attendance. If he missed the recital, Detective Jarvis would have to arrest her when they
found Remington’s lifeless body washing up on the morning tide of the Pacific coast.
Mildred and the Dragon Ladies arrived at ten minutes before seven with raised brows at the empty chair
next to Laura. She gave her associate a polite smile that didn’t conceal her annoyance in the slightest.
But as the curtains opened, Remington slid into the empty seat holding a bouquet of pale pink roses.
“Sorry, love. Took me a bit longer at the florist’s than I anticipated. Have I missed anything?” he
whispered as he unbuttoned his tailored coat and kissed her cheek.
Laura softened as she saw the flowers. He’d found a half dozen perfectly formed buds in the palest of
pinks, perfect for a young girl after her first performance--trust Remington not to forget the details.
She wove her fingers with his, absently stroking his knuckles with her thumb until she felt a slight jerk
under her hand. Looking carefully, she saw a patch of red where he’d pounded the skin raw. He caught
her look and kissed the back of her hand. “It’s all right, Laura.” He grinned at her and said in a soft
voice in her ear, “Score’s still three-zip as far as I’m concerned. We’ll catch her.”
His unmistakable confidence settled her. Taking one more long look at his profile, she turned to pay
attention to the student currently performing.
The two-hour recital had most of the men in the audience shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting with their
jackets and collars--except for Remington. Either Daniel’s tutelage or Rei’s own love of any kind of
performance meant that he sat in polite attention for the whole of the show.
When Siobhán approached the piano on stage, his hand tensed over Laura’s. It stayed that way
throughout their daughter’s beautiful solo. Siobhán’s love of music was evident in both the classical
Paganini Rhapsody and the original jazz piece flavored with a strong hint of New Orleans that she’d
composed. By the time she’d finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in at least one row of chairs in the school
auditorium.
Laura stole Rei’s handkerchief from his hand to catch the tears of pride spilling from her lashes.
After the recital, the performers poured off the stage where they'd taken their bows. Siobhán scanned
the crowded room for them. Remington waved to her.
“Mom! I did it!” Siobhán bounced in her heels as she found them.
Laura caught Siobhán’s face in her hands and kissed her in joy. “Lovely, Siobhán. Absolutely lovely.”
When the ecstatic girl turned, she exclaimed, “Da! You made it!”
Remington brought out the flowers he'd held behind his back. He kissed her on both cheeks in classic
European style saying, “I wouldn’t have missed seeing you play, Siobhán Steele.”
“Flowers? For me?” The girl melted and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Da!”
Laura saw his blue eyes glisten. While Siobhan danced away to show off her roses to Mildred and the
Dragon Ladies, Remington reached for her arm and tucked it in his, reverting to formalities as he
gathered his composure once again.
All throughout dinner, Siobhán fingered her roses, sniffing them and toying with the stems.
Laura woke the next morning to the sound of an argument in full sail across the living room. She sat up,
wincing as all the aches and pains in her lower back made themselves known. Regretting the heels she
wore last night, she straightened and focused on the verbal potshots Remington and Siobhán were
taking at each other. Shrugging on her robe, she crossed the front and tied a knot in the sash.
Neither of them noticed her as she eased the bedroom door open.
“You can’t keep me inside this house forever, Da!”
“Siobhán, I rather doubt anyone can accuse me of keeping you in this house.”
“Oh, sure. You’ll take me anywhere I want--the office, school, dinner, the movies--as long as you go
along. But with my girlfriends? It’s not like I’m asking to go to a party or, or … a club! All I want to do
is go to a movie with Jennifer and Caitlyn tonight.”
Remington paced at one end of the living room, hand on his reddened forehead. “Not now, Siobhán.
It’s not safe right now.”
“Not safe? Not safe? Now you sound like Johnny!” Siobhán snapped.
Laura interrupted, her voice calm as she stepped into the arena. “Is there any reason we can’t drive the
girls, Rei?”
But Siobhán interjected, “Caitlyn’s mom said she would pick me up.”
Remington immediately grimaced and opened his mouth to speak. Laura shot him a quelling look across
the room. He subsided, stalking into the kitchen.
“Siobhán, I agree with Remington.” Laura saw him glance back at her in gratitude. “We don’t know
who is taking pictures. We’re trained to deal with scary people; Caitlyn’s mom isn’t.” Shocked, the teen
crossed her arms in anger and began to retort when Laura held up her hand and continued, “However--”
Laura raised her eyebrows at Remington. “We can meet your friends at the theater. We’ll sit behind
you--far enough that we can’t hear whatever you girls are giggling over, but close enough that we can see
if anyone threatens you. Rei, we don't have any plans for the evening, do we?”
Conceding, he said with an edge in his voice, “No, I think not.”
Siobhán sulked, muttering in Gaelic under her breath.
Laura missed the meaning, but Remington didn’t. “That’s enough, Siobhán,” he snapped. “I’ll not have
that kind of impertinence in our home. Laura’s suggestion is more than fair. If you don’t like it, we can
certainly stay home this evening instead.”
Taken aback by his tone, Siobhán subsided, but not without an angry glint in her eye and a mutinous
pout as she stalked into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door.
Remington touched his fingertips to his forehead. Laura caught the hurt in his blue eyes before he
escaped onto the terrace.
Laura joined Siobhán in the kitchen, pouring water from the tea pot someone had heated. She stayed
silent, waiting for her daughter to speak. Only when Siobhán turned and realized that Remington was
standing on the terrace did the glower slide away, replaced by regret.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I know.”
Siobhán dropped her gaze to the countertop, then heaved a sigh before squaring her shoulders to go
outside. Laura watched as the pair leaned on the terrace rail. For several minutes, they stayed that way.
The dull throb came back to distract Laura. She set down her teacup, hoping a hot shower would ease
the soreness.
Remington found her there but knew better than to surprise her. Early in their marriage, he’d slipped into
the shower once while she washed her hair with the intention of taking advantage of her lithe, naked
form. He’d received a half-full shampoo bottle to the nose before Laura had broken up in horrified
laughter at her automatic defensive instinct.
She’d soothed away his indignity in a most enchanting way, but the overall experience was one he’d
rather not repeat. He leaned against the doorway, admiring her gravid state.
When she stepped out, with one towel knotted just above her bust and another wrapped around her hair,
she grimaced before noticing him.
“Something wrong?”
Concealing her expression, she shook her head. “Oh--uh, my back is sore. It’s better after my shower.”
He started to admonish her about needing to rest but checked himself. He’d already had one volatile
“discussion” with one of the ladies in his life; no need to start another one.
The right side of Laura’s mouth curved up. “No comment about resting?”
“Ah, no, actually. I imagine you’re perfectly capable of making your own decisions regarding your health
and that of our child.”
She grinned. “Nicely put. I’ll tell you what. If you and Siobhán get the Christmas tree from the storage
closet, I’ll put my feet up as long as you two are decorating it.”
“That’s bribery,” he accused.
“Absolutely.” Her pale face only accentuated the sparkle in her eyes.
Remington slid the towel from her head and, diving hands into her wet hair, warmed his lips on hers in a
deep, intoxicating kiss. “In that case, it’s very effective. But first, I’ll bake the sugar cookies that are
chilling in the refrigerator.”
Her face lit up in delight. “Can I help?”
“Yes, but first tell me when the shipment arrived from Ireland.” He stroked her cheek before handing
her the towel he’d dropped on the floor.
She admonished with a finger to his lips, “Yesterday afternoon while you picked up Siobhán from
school.”
“Ah, that’s how I missed it.”
“Do you want to go through the boxes?” Laura rubbed her hair and gave him a sideways glance.
“Siobhán’s already unpacked a great deal of them as most of them belong to her.”
“What about the others?”
“We’ll look at them later.”
That afternoon, while the scent of freshly baked cookies filled the flat and a tray of the same sat on the
coffee table where they could be easily snitched, Laura untangled the lights from her spot on the couch
while Remington and Siobhán sorted through ornaments.
The teen’s sad expression didn’t go unnoticed by either Laura or Remington.
“What’s wrong, a stór?” he asked.
“Oh, I, uh, didn’t think to go through the Christmas ornaments at Johnny’s house. I wish I had.”
Remington flashed a smile. “Hold that thought, Siobhán.” He retrieved one of the three remaining boxes
and brought it into the living room, setting it at Laura’s feet. “I called DeeDee before we left. I’d had
the thought that she would know better than either of us what should be kept in the family. Your
solicitor took her through the house.”
Siobhan held her breath in anticipation as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. He smiled as he spoke,
“There are a couple of pieces of furniture and a few larger things that she insisted we keep--those will be
shipped later. But knowing the holidays are coming, she sent on a number of smaller items, including
Christmas ornaments the two of you made over the years and some handed down through the family.
Have a look.” He indicated she should open the box.
For the rest of the afternoon, the Steeles decorated the tree, happily arguing over stringing the lights,
where to hang the ornaments and how to drape tinsel. Laura told any number of silly stories about her
sisters and the truly awful decorations they’d created. Remington proudly showed Siobhán the ones he
and Laura had purchased together in the last two years, and Siobhán shared what she knew of the
decorations DeeDee had sent.
In that afternoon, the little family created a whole host of new happy memories.
That evening, Laura and Remington took Siobhán to see Scrooged (Bill Murray, Paramount Pictures,
1988). They sat the promised ten rows back and on the other side of the aisle so they had a good view
of the girls. The show proved entertaining enough that Laura had to remind herself to keep an eye on
Siobhán. But the show came off without incident.
The trip to the restroom afterward, however, set off a dramatic chain of events no one had anticipated.
11 November 2009
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Dissonance