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 Thirty: House of Steele
Saturday, 17 December 1988
In the small hours of the morning, the same ones where a nameless thief had spent the better part of his
life stealing, making love, planning a heist, or simply living, he made a series of new discoveries.
The first: whatever strength of character Laura might have demonstrated over the years paled in
comparison to watching her bring their child into the world. He held her hand, rubbed her back, cracked
the occasional joke and smiled at her snippy retorts. When she pushed the tyke from her body, he sat
behind her, supporting her as her whole body strained. It was, he thought, making love in a whole
different manner.
The second: regardless of one’s dexterity, holding a pair of scissors to cut his son’s umbilical cord
required a great deal of concentration and sheer luck not to hurt the screaming child with flailing fists, a
bright red face and a shock of black hair.
The third: whatever price he and Laura had paid in their wanderings over the years had been worth every
moment to be in this place.
He unashamedly wept for nearly an hour.
While the nurse, Frances and Kate resettled Laura into a new room, Remington examined his son with
fascination. Siobhán plastered herself against the nursery window to peer at her new baby brother, with
Mildred and Murphy on either side of her. No one had slept through the long hours of labor. Now at
almost four in the morning, Remington felt as energized as if he was in the middle of a heist.
At last they gave him permission to push his son’s bassinet to Laura’s room. The family piled in behind
him to coo over the baby. Before long, the nurse shooed them all out, telling them to come back in the
morning. Murphy and Kate promised to return mid-day with the rest of the family.
In that short period of time, Siobhán fell asleep on the chair. Mildred started to wake her, but Remington
shook his head.
“Leave her. She’ll be fine.” For some obscure reason, he wanted her to stay.
Mildred kissed Remington on the cheek, understanding his reasons perhaps better than he, then did the
same with Laura and their son. “Nice family you've got there. You two did good work.” She stopped
to caress Siobhán’s hair and left with one last smile at the scene.
As soon as Mildred left, Remington found a blanket in a closet and draped it over Siobhán. Laura
watched him with solemn brown eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off in the process.
“Scoot over, love.” She didn’t question him, only resettled the baby so that the three of them fit side-by-
side on the hospital bed. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable.”
“I will, but mostly I want to sleep.”
“What are we going to name him?”
Laura turned to look at him over her shoulder. “What do you want to name him?”
From her place on the sofa where she’d opened her eyes to watch them settle, Siobhán said softly,
“Ciarán Reid Steele.”
“Ciarán Reid?” Laura echoed and glanced down at the sleeping little boy with his startling black hair.
“Ciarán because that should have been Da’s name and Reid because you’re always calling him ‘Rei’ as a
nickname.” Siobhán rose from the chair to sit on an unclaimed inch of the bed.
But Remington shook his head. “I can’t name him ‘Ciarán,’ a stór; I think I was serious about starting
anew with the names. But I like ‘Reid.’ We’ve not settled on a middle name for him.”
“Nicholas Reid Steele?” Laura asked with interest.
Remington nodded and looked across to Siobhán. “What do you think?”
“I like it. But I’m still naming something Ciarán because I like the name.”
He leaned over to press a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “I’ll get you a cat.”
He resettled Siobhán onto the chair, unfolding it into a makeshift bed. Then he crawled in next to Laura
again as she attempted to nurse their new son. As the baby suckled, Remington fell asleep with an arm
draped across his wife.
14 November 2009
Chapter Thirty-One: Christmas Day
Saturday, 17 December 1988
In the small hours of the morning, the same ones where a nameless thief had spent the better part of his
life stealing, making love, planning a heist, or simply living, he made a series of new discoveries.
The first: whatever strength of character Laura might have demonstrated over the years paled in
comparison to watching her bring their child into the world. He held her hand, rubbed her back, cracked
the occasional joke and smiled at her snippy retorts. When she pushed the tyke from her body, he sat
behind her, supporting her as her whole body strained. It was, he thought, making love in a whole
different manner.
The second: regardless of one’s dexterity, holding a pair of scissors to cut his son’s umbilical cord
required a great deal of concentration and sheer luck not to hurt the screaming child with flailing fists, a
bright red face and a shock of black hair.
The third: whatever price he and Laura had paid in their wanderings over the years had been worth every
moment to be in this place.
He unashamedly wept for nearly an hour.
While the nurse, Frances and Kate resettled Laura into a new room, Remington examined his son with
fascination. Siobhán plastered herself against the nursery window to peer at her new baby brother, with
Mildred and Murphy on either side of her. No one had slept through the long hours of labor. Now at
almost four in the morning, Remington felt as energized as if he was in the middle of a heist.
At last they gave him permission to push his son’s bassinet to Laura’s room. The family piled in behind
him to coo over the baby. Before long, the nurse shooed them all out, telling them to come back in the
morning. Murphy and Kate promised to return mid-day with the rest of the family.
In that short period of time, Siobhán fell asleep on the chair. Mildred started to wake her, but Remington
shook his head.
“Leave her. She’ll be fine.” For some obscure reason, he wanted her to stay.
Mildred kissed Remington on the cheek, understanding his reasons perhaps better than he, then did the
same with Laura and their son. “Nice family you've got there. You two did good work.” She stopped
to caress Siobhán’s hair and left with one last smile at the scene.
As soon as Mildred left, Remington found a blanket in a closet and draped it over Siobhán. Laura
watched him with solemn brown eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off in the process.
“Scoot over, love.” She didn’t question him, only resettled the baby so that the three of them fit side-by-
side on the hospital bed. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable.”
“I will, but mostly I want to sleep.”
“What are we going to name him?”
Laura turned to look at him over her shoulder. “What do you want to name him?”
From her place on the sofa where she’d opened her eyes to watch them settle, Siobhán said softly,
“Ciarán Reid Steele.”
“Ciarán Reid?” Laura echoed and glanced down at the sleeping little boy with his startling black hair.
“Ciarán because that should have been Da’s name and Reid because you’re always calling him ‘Rei’ as a
nickname.” Siobhán rose from the chair to sit on an unclaimed inch of the bed.
But Remington shook his head. “I can’t name him ‘Ciarán,’ a stór; I think I was serious about starting
anew with the names. But I like ‘Reid.’ We’ve not settled on a middle name for him.”
“Nicholas Reid Steele?” Laura asked with interest.
Remington nodded and looked across to Siobhán. “What do you think?”
“I like it. But I’m still naming something Ciarán because I like the name.”
He leaned over to press a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “I’ll get you a cat.”
He resettled Siobhán onto the chair, unfolding it into a makeshift bed. Then he crawled in next to Laura
again as she attempted to nurse their new son. As the baby suckled, Remington fell asleep with an arm
draped across his wife.
14 November 2009
Chapter Thirty-One: Christmas Day