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 Five: Discoveries
Thursday, 9 June 1988 -- 12 weeks, 0 days
Siobhán awakened to soft sunlight from the window in the corner of the bedroom. The white alarm
clock on the bedside table showed nine twenty-two. Hesitantly creeping out of the comfortable bed, she
opened the door to peer down the hall. Unable to see past the foyer, she slipped into the bathroom and
brushed her teeth. Nervously, she fingered a towel and washcloth that looked as if it had been set out on
the counter. It took her a minute to figure out how to get the shower warm. When it was, she quickly
washed and dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a soft pink shirt from her suitcase.
Her governess insisted that she turn herself out appropriately every day. By now it was a matter of
habit. She returned to her room for the brown shoes placed neatly near the foot of the bed. She twisted
her wet hair into a simple braid and tied it with a band she had in her case. Curious about this relative
she’d heard bits and pieces about, she took a deep breath and quietly moved down the short hallway.
When necessary, fake poise, she reminded herself--another lesson from a prior governess. Rounding the
corner to the kitchen, she saw her cousin stirring a cup of tea and found herself fascinated by the
similarities between them.
She was still embarrassed by her outburst last night. Alone in a strange country, filled with people and
languages she didn’t understand, the sound of home had taken apart her composure. Uncomfortable
with the memory, she quietly walked into the kitchen.
*****
Early that morning, Laura took off for the office to handle a pressing issue before clearing both of their
schedules for the last two days of the week. She’d promised to return by lunchtime with Mildred so they
could take Siobhán to the mall for whatever the girl needed. When Remington heard the shower come
on, he took advantage of the warning to prepare tea and breakfast for his cousin.
Still dazed by his wife’s calm acceptance of the situation, he wondered exactly how much the pregnancy
contributed to it. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for her unquestioning support.
Siobhán appeared. Remington appreciated her approach even as he wondered why she’d developed the
habit of moving silently. “Good morning,” he offered.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.
By daylight, he could see that they bore more than a faint resemblance to each other. In fact, she looked
a great deal like the single picture he had of his own mother, only with clear gray eyes instead of his blue
and hair a light shade of brown instead of his black. If Remington was the darker version, she was the
lighter; it was rather disconcerting considering they were no more than second cousins.
“Would you care for breakfast?” he asked, making sure he kept the Irish sing-song in his voice.
Watching her with his peripheral vision as he moved around the kitchen, he decided that she looked
hardly older than Mindy’s age of twelve with her hair pulled back in a braid and severe clothing, despite
her height and angular features.
“I would, thank you.” She took a seat at the island where he placed a cup of tea in front of her. She
sipped, keeping her eyes down as she had been taught.
After fifteen minutes of short, polite answers to his questions, Remington came around the island to sit
next to her while she daintily consumed two eggs and a slice of toast with excruciatingly correct
manners. “Siobhán, I, too, grew up in places where I was expected to be seen and not heard. This is not
that kind of place. You’ll not be punished or demeaned for asking questions here. If you still want it to
be, this is your home now. We want you to be comfortable here.”
Grey eyes came up to meet blue ones, and she nodded in understanding. “Thank you.”
Realizing he would have to change strategies, he pulled out a sheet of paper he didn’t need to make a list
he was quite capable of keeping in his head. “Now, what sort of food do you prefer to eat? I do most of
the cooking around here. Laura’s getting better, but we wouldn’t want to rely on her for more than one
or two meals a week.”
Siobhán smiled rather hesitantly and ventured, “I can help. Cook, I mean.”
“Perfect. Then there will be two people in the house who can do more than put a salad together and
warm up leftovers.”
She giggled quietly at that. “Where did she go?”
“Laura? She had a few things to do at the office this morning before you girls go to the mall.”
“Where does she work?”
He grinned. “Laura and I have a private detective agency.” Remington sketched out a brief history of
their association, minus a few hundred incriminating details. There would be time enough for that later.
The next hour passed quickly as he made the list of foodstuffs she preferred, cleaned up the kitchen, and
gave the teen a detailed tour of the house. While he was showing her about, he noted her wistful glances
at Laura’s piano. “Do you play?” Another shy nod. “Ask Laura, but I doubt she’ll mind. She adores
listening to music. So do I.”
“Can you play?” Siobhán wondered.
“Not a single solitary note. We’re lucky I can keep a beat well enough to slow dance.” The girl smiled
at that, and Remington thought he’d done well that morning in keeping her mood light as he reassured her
in numerous ways that she was welcome.
*****
Gaining some confidence, Siobhán wandered around the living room looking at the various trinkets and
artwork. The carousel on the bookshelf caught her eye. After a moment of staring in fascination at the
delicate circus horses, she asked, “What … what happens now?”
Remington leaned against the piano. “Siobhán, that is up to you. I can tell you what Laura and I think
will work best, but if you’re not comfortable with it, then we’ll come up with something else. You do
have some choices here--perhaps not the ones you might prefer, but there are options.”
She shot him a nervous glance. He nodded in acknowledgment of her discomfort as he began to explain
what he and Laura had discussed the night before.
*****
Laura breezed in some time later and dropped her briefcase on the island before ditching her jacket over
the chair. With an easy smile, she took in the teen’s hesitant posture. “Hi, Siobhán.”
She closed in on Remington and met him in a sweet kiss made funny because of his embarrassment at
kissing her in front of the younger girl. Siobhán looked anywhere but at them.
He touched his lips with his fingers. “I, ah, was just explaining what we discussed last night to Siobhán.”
“Ah. Any decisions?” Laura kept her tone mild.
Remington held his hand out to Siobhán, encouraging her to speak her mind.
Mustering up courage, the teen clasped her hands in front of her. “I want to stay, if it’s all right.” She
looked at Remington for support, and he nodded. “As for adopting me--” She shrugged. “My mother
died when I was five, and I only saw Johnny once or twice a year. It’s not as if I knew my parents. If
you two want to adopt me, it’s okay by me. But--” She stopped again.
Both Laura and Remington caught the dash of longing that the girl tried to conceal, and he crossed the
room to lay a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”
“What am I supposed to call you? I mean, I know in public I’ll refer to you as ‘Mum’ and ‘Da,’ but
what do I call you when we’re here?”
Laura chuckled as her eyes met her husband’s, and he quipped, “Good Lord, are we back to that again?
Call me what you like; I’ll probably answer.”
“Be serious for a moment, Rei.” She gave Siobhán a broad smile. “I know exactly how you feel. I
never knew quite what name to use when I first met Mr. Steele. How about ‘Laura’ and ‘Remington’
for now? Later, if you want to use something different after you know us better, feel free to change it.”
A small nod of the teen’s head indicated her agreement.
Remington put his arm around his young cousin’s shoulders and gave her a slight squeeze. “We’ll make
this work, Siobhán.”
The doorbell sounded. Laura buzzed Mildred up in the elevator.
Siobhán returned Mildred's wide smile as the older woman did a little dance into the room and said,
“Who’s ready for shopping? I’ve got a credit card that’s begging to have some serious damage done to
it!”
Laura glanced at Siobhán, picking up on the excitement in the teen’s face. “I think we are. But I’m
hungry.”
Remington smiled and came up behind Laura, resting his hands on her belly out of habit. “In your
condition, you’re always hungry. It’s a rather pleasant change of pace.”
Siobhán had a faint look of confusion in her expression.
Rather proudly, Remington told her, “Laura is pregnant.” Comically, he bopped his forehead with one
hand while still holding on to Laura with the other. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that you’ll be
getting a little brother or sister sometime around Christmas. I do hope it doesn’t change your mind about
all this.”
She shook her head.
“Good. You girls have a good time. I’ll have dinner ready when you return.”
The afternoon trip to the mall was a success. Siobhán came back to the penthouse carrying more
shopping bags than she’d ever seen at one time. Laura and Mildred had walked her from one end of the
mall to the other and helped her to pick out everything from jeans and tennis shoes to swimsuits for the
beach and even a few cosmetics that Laura thought she was old enough to wear. They also found
sunglasses for her and managed, by virtue of its being a Thursday afternoon, to squeeze in a hair
appointment.
Siobhán came out wearing white jeans and boots, a purple blouse and hair that was about six inches
shorter. Long spirals bounced at her shoulders, and her lips were slicked with gloss. In other words, she
looked like a typical California teenager.
Laura and Mildred were tickled to see Siobhán respond to the attention and come out of her shy shell. It
was obvious that she was a personable young woman with a great deal of intelligence and common
sense. At the beginning of the trip, the girl had been wide-eyed and closed-mouthed as she absorbed
everything going on around her. But the two women determinedly drew her out with questions, asking
her opinions and paying special attention to her body language. In the mid-afternoon, the cherry Coke in
the food court loosened Siobhán’s reserve. She began to converse with Laura with more ease--and made
hesitant smiles at Ms. Krebs wry comments.
Somewhere between the second shoe store and the place that sold chunky bracelets, Siobhán clued in to
the fact that she was taller than Laura--Mum, she reminded herself--by a good two inches and positively
towered over Ms. Krebs. She liked what she saw in the mirror when she changed into one of her new
outfits after getting her hair cut. After seeing what the other girls her age at the mall were wearing, she
had realized that the slacks and shirt she’d worn that day were hopelessly of the wrong style and felt
much more comfortable in her new clothes. Laura--Mum--and Ms. Krebs clapped appreciatively when
she came out of the bathroom.
Laura toyed with one of the loose curls near Siobhán’s ear, idly commenting, “Remind me to show you a
picture of your great-aunt.”
“Mary-Claire?” Siobhán said in surprise.
Laura dropped the lock and gathered up several shopping bags. “Yes. You look like her. A great deal
like her in fact.” Pausing for a minute while the teen picked up the remaining sacks, she asked,
“Siobhán, just how much do you know about your aunt Mary-Claire, your grandmother Colleen, and Mr.
Steele?”
As they had for the latter half of the outing, Siobhán’s words tumbled over each other in her excitement
to have real conversation. Home had been terribly quiet and dull. “Just what Housekeeper told me. My
Grandmother Colleen raised Ciarán until she died when he was nearly four. After the funeral, Johnny
wanted to leave Dublin so he gave Ciarán to one of Mary-Claire’s cousins. He stayed there for almost a
year before they brought him back to Johnny’s.
“Housekeeper gets terribly angry when she speaks of it. She said he was covered in dirt and bruises, and
the only reason he left that place was because the local priest was asking questions. But Johnny didn’t
come back to care for him as Grandmother Colleen asked. Instead, he called some other relative to take
in Ciarán. From what Housekeeper said, he was passed around that way for a few years until somebody
dropped him at one of the orphan’s homes instead of Johnny’s. After that, he disappeared. Johnny didn’
t find him until he was much older.”
Curious and ever the detective, Laura asked, “How did you learn all this?”
“There are pictures here and there of Ciarán in Johnny’s house and a box of his scribbles in the nursery.
I asked Housekeeper who he was. Housekeeper didn’t mind my asking questions so much. I always felt
sorry for him even though I hadn’t met him. But I have now, haven’t I? It’s hard to think of …
Remington … as that same little boy in the pictures. How did he get the name ‘Remington Steele’
anyway?”
Laura bit her lip while Mildred covered her smile with her hand. “It’s a long story for another day …
and one your cousin ought to be in on when we tell it,” Laura told her. “Is anybody hungry?”
She received only groans in reply.
Fred dropped off the trio and their largesse as close to the lobby as possible before carrying his share to
the elevator. He tipped his hat to ‘Miss Steele,’ as he’d been introduced to her, and wished her a good
day.
In the elevator, the teen muttered over and over again, “Siobhán Steele, Siobhán Steele.” The thought
had crossed her mind at the mall that ‘Siobhán O’Callaghan’--the mousy, hidden daughter of a jailed
Dublin crime boss and a dead mother--could disappear with her shadowy relatives and lonely existence.
In her place was now “Siobhán Steele” who lived in Los Angeles, California, with her dad and his wife.
Any number of times in the past several years, she’d fantasized about having a family--a real family that
lived and played together. She’d seen on TV and read in books about how other people lived. She knew
that the people who worked for Johnny had their own families. Now it seemed as if her dreams were
being handed to her on a silver platter.
Hearing Siobhán’s soft words, Laura asked, “Do you think you can get used to it? The new name?”
Siobhán nodded happily, albeit with shyness still.
After Laura pushed the foyer door open, she peeked around the corner to the kitchen and smiled at
Remington, who was putting the final touches on an exquisite dinner. He’d obviously taken the time to
prepare a special meal for his cousin and had set the dining room table accordingly. “You’re not going to
believe this,” she commented.
He smiled and crossed to touch his lips to hers before catching a glimpse of his cousin over her shoulder.
“Bloody hell, Laura. We’ll have to lock her up.” He was more than a little pole-axed by Siobhán’s
appearance. That morning she had looked like a gawky little girl in the wrong clothes; now she looked as
if she were on the brink of adulthood.
Laura introduced her. “Meet Siobhán Steele.” She and Mildred watched him carefully greet his new
‘daughter’ with pecks on each cheek before standing back to look at her. Siobhán flushed and pursed
her lips as she waited for him to finish his assessment.
“Absolutely lovely, Miss Steele,” he pronounced. A bashful smile appeared, and he pulled her in for a
quick hug and kiss to her forehead.
Seeing them together only magnified their similarities. Laura had to shake her head. “If I didn’t know
that you were in South America when she was conceived, even I would have a hard time believing you
weren’t her father.”
Remington crossed his arms and stroked his chin, looking at Siobhán, Laura and Mildred in turn. “You
know, I never thought I would have family at all. Now it seems I’m swimming in relatives. All in all, it’s
a rather nice feeling. Dinner’s ready.” He turned away to carry the last dish to the table.
*****
They spent the rest of the weekend settling Siobhán into the penthouse. The shy teen still couldn’t quite
believe the turn of events. She felt awful about Johnny, but honestly, knowing he was in jail wasn’t
much different from thinking he was in London. She rarely saw him more than once or twice a year--
usually only at her birthday and Christmas. She spent most of her time in her governess’ company and
with a handful of servants that treated her well, but she’d always felt like an outsider whenever it became
clear they had their own families. Johnny trusted no one and, in his zeal to protect Siobhán, had isolated
her from all but a few people.
To say her life was suddenly different was an understatement. Laura and Remington took her
everywhere over the next few days. To the grocery store. To dinner. To the movies. Even just around
town for a tour. Ms. Krebs--Ms. Mildred, as they decided Siobhán could call her--came along for that
one. Siobhán decided again that she really liked the lady. She’d liked hearing the three of them talk with
each other, poking fun and making one another laugh. Last evening, after driving around downtown Los
Angeles and showing her where they worked, they’d all gone to the beach and walked along the sand.
At the moment, this felt like a grand adventure. The warm sun was so different from the perpetual cool
air in Dublin. And the ocean! She’d been to the sea a handful of times but had never walked on the
beach with water lapping over her feet. Remington promised to bring her back to swim in a few days.
Like any eager teen, she couldn’t wait.
Her cousin was still an enigma to her. She couldn’t quite reconcile the tall man with the picture of the
little boy she’d stashed in her suitcase, but she’d felt the connection all the same. She’d shown
Remington and Laura the photograph she’d brought and set out on the dresser of her room. The child of
three stood in a garden with his hands stuffed into his pockets, earnestly looking off to the side with his
wavy dark hair falling over his eyes.
Taking it from her, Remington had stared at it for the longest time. With her permission, he slipped the
picture from the frame and turned it over. She’d done the same any number of times and knew he’d
find a simple notation on the back: Ciarán Patrick 1957. Without a word, he'd replaced the photograph
and handed it back to her.
“Of all things to bring with you from home, Siobhán, why that?” he'd wondered.
She’d shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess that knowing another kid lived at the house made me feel …
less alone. And I didn’t want to leave him there by himself.” He’d touched his fingers to his lips and
nodded before giving her a hug. She liked it. Nobody ever hugged her at Johnny’s. Something about
her cousin made her feel safe--and welcome.
It was funny though; he could turn his Irish brogue off and on at will. He used it all the time around her,
but when they were in public and speaking to others, the accent disappeared to be replaced by a British
one. She wondered about that. Even with as much time as Johnny spent in London, he still kept his
Dubliner brogue, albeit peppered with British vernacular.
Laura, on the other hand, was American through and through. Her cousin’s wife intimidated her, just a
little. In Siobhán’s world, women were always servants or the pretty decoration for one of Johnny’s
friends. While Laura and Remington made a nice-looking couple, Laura wasn’t around just for looks.
She spoke her mind, exchanged retorts with Remington and clearly had smarts--and she didn’t use
pregnancy as an excuse to get out of doing everything. In fact, other than the fact she was hungry all the
time and her tummy was rounding, Siobhán wouldn’t have known at all.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about a baby in the house. She’d only seen a few fussy ones while out on
the rare excursion with Johnny. But Remington and Laura seemed excited. Laura had come home with
two infant outfits she hadn’t been able to resist purchasing at the mall. Remington had picked up the tiny
pajamas and got a strange look in his eye before touching his lips to Laura’s temple and then her cheek.
That was another thing. They were always touching. And kissing. And flirting. Siobhán just knew she
missed the point of a lot of the comments they made to each other. Late last night, she’d slipped into the
kitchen for a drink of water and caught them lying in front of the fireplace. They hadn’t noticed her and
continued their argument about what to name the baby between kisses. Every time Laura had protested,
Remington kissed her again. When they’d stopped talking altogether, she’d fled silently down the
hallway, embarrassed at their intimacy even as it hadn’t been too overt.
This bright Sunday morning though, she smiled a little as she remembered their argument--something
about Laura's refusing to name their child after somebody named “Humphrey.” She couldn’t really
blame her for that one.
It felt odd to her to still be wearing pajamas as she walked down the hall, but each of the last two
mornings, she’d noted Laura and Remington wearing them or dressing gowns at breakfast. Not wanting
to be the odd one out, she had put on a new set they’d purchased at the mall and bravely made her way
to the kitchen. She found Laura there making tea, wearing a silk robe tied at the waist; her hair was still
mussed from sleep.
“Good morning, Siobhán.” Laura lightly hugged her around the shoulders before handing her a cup of
tea.
“Ah, good morning.”
“Want to help me wake up your cousin?” Last night, Laura had put a lot of thought into how they might
make Siobhán feel a part of the family. The girl was scared of intruding in their space--understandably
so. Laura and Remington had done a little plotting and come up with this scheme to break the ice.
Siobhán’s eyes flew open in surprise. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. He’s very ticklish on his feet, and they happen to be hanging out from under the edge of
the covers. Come on.” Laura tugged on the teen’s hand. They stopped at the door, peering around to
make certain Remington still slept.
He feigned rather well, even snoring lightly for effect. Laura gently pushed the girl into the room and
motioned her to the foot of the bed.
Nibbling on her thumbnail on the way over, Siobhán approached his feet with the lightness of a cat
stepping across a shelf full of china. At Laura’s encouragement, she reached out and tickled a bare foot.
He twitched. She tickled it a little more. He pulled that foot under the cover. She tickled the other foot.
He twitched and groaned. This time, she tickled it for real and he rolled over.
Opening his eyes, he snorted. “Fabulous. Now I have two of you who can’t stand to let a man rest in
the mornings.”
Siobhán giggled, and Laura reached out to snatch his pillow off the bed. “This works too.”
“Laura!” he protested.
“Up, darling. No sleeping in today. We have a great deal to do.”
He arched a brow at his young cousin. “I really must discuss my theories about irresponsibility with
you. Hopefully, you’ll take after me rather than Laura.” He sat up and scratched his hair that stood
every which way before dropping his hand to scrub his stubble.
Seeing Remington and Laura looking less than perfect that morning went a long way to making Siobhán
feel at home with the Steeles.
30 October 2009
Chapter Six: Introductions
Thursday, 9 June 1988 -- 12 weeks, 0 days
Siobhán awakened to soft sunlight from the window in the corner of the bedroom. The white alarm
clock on the bedside table showed nine twenty-two. Hesitantly creeping out of the comfortable bed, she
opened the door to peer down the hall. Unable to see past the foyer, she slipped into the bathroom and
brushed her teeth. Nervously, she fingered a towel and washcloth that looked as if it had been set out on
the counter. It took her a minute to figure out how to get the shower warm. When it was, she quickly
washed and dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a soft pink shirt from her suitcase.
Her governess insisted that she turn herself out appropriately every day. By now it was a matter of
habit. She returned to her room for the brown shoes placed neatly near the foot of the bed. She twisted
her wet hair into a simple braid and tied it with a band she had in her case. Curious about this relative
she’d heard bits and pieces about, she took a deep breath and quietly moved down the short hallway.
When necessary, fake poise, she reminded herself--another lesson from a prior governess. Rounding the
corner to the kitchen, she saw her cousin stirring a cup of tea and found herself fascinated by the
similarities between them.
She was still embarrassed by her outburst last night. Alone in a strange country, filled with people and
languages she didn’t understand, the sound of home had taken apart her composure. Uncomfortable
with the memory, she quietly walked into the kitchen.
*****
Early that morning, Laura took off for the office to handle a pressing issue before clearing both of their
schedules for the last two days of the week. She’d promised to return by lunchtime with Mildred so they
could take Siobhán to the mall for whatever the girl needed. When Remington heard the shower come
on, he took advantage of the warning to prepare tea and breakfast for his cousin.
Still dazed by his wife’s calm acceptance of the situation, he wondered exactly how much the pregnancy
contributed to it. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for her unquestioning support.
Siobhán appeared. Remington appreciated her approach even as he wondered why she’d developed the
habit of moving silently. “Good morning,” he offered.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.
By daylight, he could see that they bore more than a faint resemblance to each other. In fact, she looked
a great deal like the single picture he had of his own mother, only with clear gray eyes instead of his blue
and hair a light shade of brown instead of his black. If Remington was the darker version, she was the
lighter; it was rather disconcerting considering they were no more than second cousins.
“Would you care for breakfast?” he asked, making sure he kept the Irish sing-song in his voice.
Watching her with his peripheral vision as he moved around the kitchen, he decided that she looked
hardly older than Mindy’s age of twelve with her hair pulled back in a braid and severe clothing, despite
her height and angular features.
“I would, thank you.” She took a seat at the island where he placed a cup of tea in front of her. She
sipped, keeping her eyes down as she had been taught.
After fifteen minutes of short, polite answers to his questions, Remington came around the island to sit
next to her while she daintily consumed two eggs and a slice of toast with excruciatingly correct
manners. “Siobhán, I, too, grew up in places where I was expected to be seen and not heard. This is not
that kind of place. You’ll not be punished or demeaned for asking questions here. If you still want it to
be, this is your home now. We want you to be comfortable here.”
Grey eyes came up to meet blue ones, and she nodded in understanding. “Thank you.”
Realizing he would have to change strategies, he pulled out a sheet of paper he didn’t need to make a list
he was quite capable of keeping in his head. “Now, what sort of food do you prefer to eat? I do most of
the cooking around here. Laura’s getting better, but we wouldn’t want to rely on her for more than one
or two meals a week.”
Siobhán smiled rather hesitantly and ventured, “I can help. Cook, I mean.”
“Perfect. Then there will be two people in the house who can do more than put a salad together and
warm up leftovers.”
She giggled quietly at that. “Where did she go?”
“Laura? She had a few things to do at the office this morning before you girls go to the mall.”
“Where does she work?”
He grinned. “Laura and I have a private detective agency.” Remington sketched out a brief history of
their association, minus a few hundred incriminating details. There would be time enough for that later.
The next hour passed quickly as he made the list of foodstuffs she preferred, cleaned up the kitchen, and
gave the teen a detailed tour of the house. While he was showing her about, he noted her wistful glances
at Laura’s piano. “Do you play?” Another shy nod. “Ask Laura, but I doubt she’ll mind. She adores
listening to music. So do I.”
“Can you play?” Siobhán wondered.
“Not a single solitary note. We’re lucky I can keep a beat well enough to slow dance.” The girl smiled
at that, and Remington thought he’d done well that morning in keeping her mood light as he reassured her
in numerous ways that she was welcome.
*****
Gaining some confidence, Siobhán wandered around the living room looking at the various trinkets and
artwork. The carousel on the bookshelf caught her eye. After a moment of staring in fascination at the
delicate circus horses, she asked, “What … what happens now?”
Remington leaned against the piano. “Siobhán, that is up to you. I can tell you what Laura and I think
will work best, but if you’re not comfortable with it, then we’ll come up with something else. You do
have some choices here--perhaps not the ones you might prefer, but there are options.”
She shot him a nervous glance. He nodded in acknowledgment of her discomfort as he began to explain
what he and Laura had discussed the night before.
*****
Laura breezed in some time later and dropped her briefcase on the island before ditching her jacket over
the chair. With an easy smile, she took in the teen’s hesitant posture. “Hi, Siobhán.”
She closed in on Remington and met him in a sweet kiss made funny because of his embarrassment at
kissing her in front of the younger girl. Siobhán looked anywhere but at them.
He touched his lips with his fingers. “I, ah, was just explaining what we discussed last night to Siobhán.”
“Ah. Any decisions?” Laura kept her tone mild.
Remington held his hand out to Siobhán, encouraging her to speak her mind.
Mustering up courage, the teen clasped her hands in front of her. “I want to stay, if it’s all right.” She
looked at Remington for support, and he nodded. “As for adopting me--” She shrugged. “My mother
died when I was five, and I only saw Johnny once or twice a year. It’s not as if I knew my parents. If
you two want to adopt me, it’s okay by me. But--” She stopped again.
Both Laura and Remington caught the dash of longing that the girl tried to conceal, and he crossed the
room to lay a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”
“What am I supposed to call you? I mean, I know in public I’ll refer to you as ‘Mum’ and ‘Da,’ but
what do I call you when we’re here?”
Laura chuckled as her eyes met her husband’s, and he quipped, “Good Lord, are we back to that again?
Call me what you like; I’ll probably answer.”
“Be serious for a moment, Rei.” She gave Siobhán a broad smile. “I know exactly how you feel. I
never knew quite what name to use when I first met Mr. Steele. How about ‘Laura’ and ‘Remington’
for now? Later, if you want to use something different after you know us better, feel free to change it.”
A small nod of the teen’s head indicated her agreement.
Remington put his arm around his young cousin’s shoulders and gave her a slight squeeze. “We’ll make
this work, Siobhán.”
The doorbell sounded. Laura buzzed Mildred up in the elevator.
Siobhán returned Mildred's wide smile as the older woman did a little dance into the room and said,
“Who’s ready for shopping? I’ve got a credit card that’s begging to have some serious damage done to
it!”
Laura glanced at Siobhán, picking up on the excitement in the teen’s face. “I think we are. But I’m
hungry.”
Remington smiled and came up behind Laura, resting his hands on her belly out of habit. “In your
condition, you’re always hungry. It’s a rather pleasant change of pace.”
Siobhán had a faint look of confusion in her expression.
Rather proudly, Remington told her, “Laura is pregnant.” Comically, he bopped his forehead with one
hand while still holding on to Laura with the other. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that you’ll be
getting a little brother or sister sometime around Christmas. I do hope it doesn’t change your mind about
all this.”
She shook her head.
“Good. You girls have a good time. I’ll have dinner ready when you return.”
The afternoon trip to the mall was a success. Siobhán came back to the penthouse carrying more
shopping bags than she’d ever seen at one time. Laura and Mildred had walked her from one end of the
mall to the other and helped her to pick out everything from jeans and tennis shoes to swimsuits for the
beach and even a few cosmetics that Laura thought she was old enough to wear. They also found
sunglasses for her and managed, by virtue of its being a Thursday afternoon, to squeeze in a hair
appointment.
Siobhán came out wearing white jeans and boots, a purple blouse and hair that was about six inches
shorter. Long spirals bounced at her shoulders, and her lips were slicked with gloss. In other words, she
looked like a typical California teenager.
Laura and Mildred were tickled to see Siobhán respond to the attention and come out of her shy shell. It
was obvious that she was a personable young woman with a great deal of intelligence and common
sense. At the beginning of the trip, the girl had been wide-eyed and closed-mouthed as she absorbed
everything going on around her. But the two women determinedly drew her out with questions, asking
her opinions and paying special attention to her body language. In the mid-afternoon, the cherry Coke in
the food court loosened Siobhán’s reserve. She began to converse with Laura with more ease--and made
hesitant smiles at Ms. Krebs wry comments.
Somewhere between the second shoe store and the place that sold chunky bracelets, Siobhán clued in to
the fact that she was taller than Laura--Mum, she reminded herself--by a good two inches and positively
towered over Ms. Krebs. She liked what she saw in the mirror when she changed into one of her new
outfits after getting her hair cut. After seeing what the other girls her age at the mall were wearing, she
had realized that the slacks and shirt she’d worn that day were hopelessly of the wrong style and felt
much more comfortable in her new clothes. Laura--Mum--and Ms. Krebs clapped appreciatively when
she came out of the bathroom.
Laura toyed with one of the loose curls near Siobhán’s ear, idly commenting, “Remind me to show you a
picture of your great-aunt.”
“Mary-Claire?” Siobhán said in surprise.
Laura dropped the lock and gathered up several shopping bags. “Yes. You look like her. A great deal
like her in fact.” Pausing for a minute while the teen picked up the remaining sacks, she asked,
“Siobhán, just how much do you know about your aunt Mary-Claire, your grandmother Colleen, and Mr.
Steele?”
As they had for the latter half of the outing, Siobhán’s words tumbled over each other in her excitement
to have real conversation. Home had been terribly quiet and dull. “Just what Housekeeper told me. My
Grandmother Colleen raised Ciarán until she died when he was nearly four. After the funeral, Johnny
wanted to leave Dublin so he gave Ciarán to one of Mary-Claire’s cousins. He stayed there for almost a
year before they brought him back to Johnny’s.
“Housekeeper gets terribly angry when she speaks of it. She said he was covered in dirt and bruises, and
the only reason he left that place was because the local priest was asking questions. But Johnny didn’t
come back to care for him as Grandmother Colleen asked. Instead, he called some other relative to take
in Ciarán. From what Housekeeper said, he was passed around that way for a few years until somebody
dropped him at one of the orphan’s homes instead of Johnny’s. After that, he disappeared. Johnny didn’
t find him until he was much older.”
Curious and ever the detective, Laura asked, “How did you learn all this?”
“There are pictures here and there of Ciarán in Johnny’s house and a box of his scribbles in the nursery.
I asked Housekeeper who he was. Housekeeper didn’t mind my asking questions so much. I always felt
sorry for him even though I hadn’t met him. But I have now, haven’t I? It’s hard to think of …
Remington … as that same little boy in the pictures. How did he get the name ‘Remington Steele’
anyway?”
Laura bit her lip while Mildred covered her smile with her hand. “It’s a long story for another day …
and one your cousin ought to be in on when we tell it,” Laura told her. “Is anybody hungry?”
She received only groans in reply.
Fred dropped off the trio and their largesse as close to the lobby as possible before carrying his share to
the elevator. He tipped his hat to ‘Miss Steele,’ as he’d been introduced to her, and wished her a good
day.
In the elevator, the teen muttered over and over again, “Siobhán Steele, Siobhán Steele.” The thought
had crossed her mind at the mall that ‘Siobhán O’Callaghan’--the mousy, hidden daughter of a jailed
Dublin crime boss and a dead mother--could disappear with her shadowy relatives and lonely existence.
In her place was now “Siobhán Steele” who lived in Los Angeles, California, with her dad and his wife.
Any number of times in the past several years, she’d fantasized about having a family--a real family that
lived and played together. She’d seen on TV and read in books about how other people lived. She knew
that the people who worked for Johnny had their own families. Now it seemed as if her dreams were
being handed to her on a silver platter.
Hearing Siobhán’s soft words, Laura asked, “Do you think you can get used to it? The new name?”
Siobhán nodded happily, albeit with shyness still.
After Laura pushed the foyer door open, she peeked around the corner to the kitchen and smiled at
Remington, who was putting the final touches on an exquisite dinner. He’d obviously taken the time to
prepare a special meal for his cousin and had set the dining room table accordingly. “You’re not going to
believe this,” she commented.
He smiled and crossed to touch his lips to hers before catching a glimpse of his cousin over her shoulder.
“Bloody hell, Laura. We’ll have to lock her up.” He was more than a little pole-axed by Siobhán’s
appearance. That morning she had looked like a gawky little girl in the wrong clothes; now she looked as
if she were on the brink of adulthood.
Laura introduced her. “Meet Siobhán Steele.” She and Mildred watched him carefully greet his new
‘daughter’ with pecks on each cheek before standing back to look at her. Siobhán flushed and pursed
her lips as she waited for him to finish his assessment.
“Absolutely lovely, Miss Steele,” he pronounced. A bashful smile appeared, and he pulled her in for a
quick hug and kiss to her forehead.
Seeing them together only magnified their similarities. Laura had to shake her head. “If I didn’t know
that you were in South America when she was conceived, even I would have a hard time believing you
weren’t her father.”
Remington crossed his arms and stroked his chin, looking at Siobhán, Laura and Mildred in turn. “You
know, I never thought I would have family at all. Now it seems I’m swimming in relatives. All in all, it’s
a rather nice feeling. Dinner’s ready.” He turned away to carry the last dish to the table.
*****
They spent the rest of the weekend settling Siobhán into the penthouse. The shy teen still couldn’t quite
believe the turn of events. She felt awful about Johnny, but honestly, knowing he was in jail wasn’t
much different from thinking he was in London. She rarely saw him more than once or twice a year--
usually only at her birthday and Christmas. She spent most of her time in her governess’ company and
with a handful of servants that treated her well, but she’d always felt like an outsider whenever it became
clear they had their own families. Johnny trusted no one and, in his zeal to protect Siobhán, had isolated
her from all but a few people.
To say her life was suddenly different was an understatement. Laura and Remington took her
everywhere over the next few days. To the grocery store. To dinner. To the movies. Even just around
town for a tour. Ms. Krebs--Ms. Mildred, as they decided Siobhán could call her--came along for that
one. Siobhán decided again that she really liked the lady. She’d liked hearing the three of them talk with
each other, poking fun and making one another laugh. Last evening, after driving around downtown Los
Angeles and showing her where they worked, they’d all gone to the beach and walked along the sand.
At the moment, this felt like a grand adventure. The warm sun was so different from the perpetual cool
air in Dublin. And the ocean! She’d been to the sea a handful of times but had never walked on the
beach with water lapping over her feet. Remington promised to bring her back to swim in a few days.
Like any eager teen, she couldn’t wait.
Her cousin was still an enigma to her. She couldn’t quite reconcile the tall man with the picture of the
little boy she’d stashed in her suitcase, but she’d felt the connection all the same. She’d shown
Remington and Laura the photograph she’d brought and set out on the dresser of her room. The child of
three stood in a garden with his hands stuffed into his pockets, earnestly looking off to the side with his
wavy dark hair falling over his eyes.
Taking it from her, Remington had stared at it for the longest time. With her permission, he slipped the
picture from the frame and turned it over. She’d done the same any number of times and knew he’d
find a simple notation on the back: Ciarán Patrick 1957. Without a word, he'd replaced the photograph
and handed it back to her.
“Of all things to bring with you from home, Siobhán, why that?” he'd wondered.
She’d shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess that knowing another kid lived at the house made me feel …
less alone. And I didn’t want to leave him there by himself.” He’d touched his fingers to his lips and
nodded before giving her a hug. She liked it. Nobody ever hugged her at Johnny’s. Something about
her cousin made her feel safe--and welcome.
It was funny though; he could turn his Irish brogue off and on at will. He used it all the time around her,
but when they were in public and speaking to others, the accent disappeared to be replaced by a British
one. She wondered about that. Even with as much time as Johnny spent in London, he still kept his
Dubliner brogue, albeit peppered with British vernacular.
Laura, on the other hand, was American through and through. Her cousin’s wife intimidated her, just a
little. In Siobhán’s world, women were always servants or the pretty decoration for one of Johnny’s
friends. While Laura and Remington made a nice-looking couple, Laura wasn’t around just for looks.
She spoke her mind, exchanged retorts with Remington and clearly had smarts--and she didn’t use
pregnancy as an excuse to get out of doing everything. In fact, other than the fact she was hungry all the
time and her tummy was rounding, Siobhán wouldn’t have known at all.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about a baby in the house. She’d only seen a few fussy ones while out on
the rare excursion with Johnny. But Remington and Laura seemed excited. Laura had come home with
two infant outfits she hadn’t been able to resist purchasing at the mall. Remington had picked up the tiny
pajamas and got a strange look in his eye before touching his lips to Laura’s temple and then her cheek.
That was another thing. They were always touching. And kissing. And flirting. Siobhán just knew she
missed the point of a lot of the comments they made to each other. Late last night, she’d slipped into the
kitchen for a drink of water and caught them lying in front of the fireplace. They hadn’t noticed her and
continued their argument about what to name the baby between kisses. Every time Laura had protested,
Remington kissed her again. When they’d stopped talking altogether, she’d fled silently down the
hallway, embarrassed at their intimacy even as it hadn’t been too overt.
This bright Sunday morning though, she smiled a little as she remembered their argument--something
about Laura's refusing to name their child after somebody named “Humphrey.” She couldn’t really
blame her for that one.
It felt odd to her to still be wearing pajamas as she walked down the hall, but each of the last two
mornings, she’d noted Laura and Remington wearing them or dressing gowns at breakfast. Not wanting
to be the odd one out, she had put on a new set they’d purchased at the mall and bravely made her way
to the kitchen. She found Laura there making tea, wearing a silk robe tied at the waist; her hair was still
mussed from sleep.
“Good morning, Siobhán.” Laura lightly hugged her around the shoulders before handing her a cup of
tea.
“Ah, good morning.”
“Want to help me wake up your cousin?” Last night, Laura had put a lot of thought into how they might
make Siobhán feel a part of the family. The girl was scared of intruding in their space--understandably
so. Laura and Remington had done a little plotting and come up with this scheme to break the ice.
Siobhán’s eyes flew open in surprise. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. He’s very ticklish on his feet, and they happen to be hanging out from under the edge of
the covers. Come on.” Laura tugged on the teen’s hand. They stopped at the door, peering around to
make certain Remington still slept.
He feigned rather well, even snoring lightly for effect. Laura gently pushed the girl into the room and
motioned her to the foot of the bed.
Nibbling on her thumbnail on the way over, Siobhán approached his feet with the lightness of a cat
stepping across a shelf full of china. At Laura’s encouragement, she reached out and tickled a bare foot.
He twitched. She tickled it a little more. He pulled that foot under the cover. She tickled the other foot.
He twitched and groaned. This time, she tickled it for real and he rolled over.
Opening his eyes, he snorted. “Fabulous. Now I have two of you who can’t stand to let a man rest in
the mornings.”
Siobhán giggled, and Laura reached out to snatch his pillow off the bed. “This works too.”
“Laura!” he protested.
“Up, darling. No sleeping in today. We have a great deal to do.”
He arched a brow at his young cousin. “I really must discuss my theories about irresponsibility with
you. Hopefully, you’ll take after me rather than Laura.” He sat up and scratched his hair that stood
every which way before dropping his hand to scrub his stubble.
Seeing Remington and Laura looking less than perfect that morning went a long way to making Siobhán
feel at home with the Steeles.
30 October 2009
Chapter Six: Introductions