Written for Yuletide 2009 for ulstergirl.
"It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." - Anne Sexton
The tips of Nancy's reddish-blonde hair, that trailed untidily over her shoulder in a makeshift ponytail, were still dripping slightly from her earlier swim, the water seeping into her white T-shirt so that the thin material clung to her chest. Her pink bra was blazoning brightly from beneath the sodden material and though Ned was trying not to care, trying desperately to appear not to even notice it, he couldn't stop his eyes wandering to her chest, the air conditioning making the sight all the more appealing.
God, she was so hot.
Sharing the joint accolade of being both quarterback of the football team and captain of the basketball team, Ned knew his friends sometimes questioned the sanity of his dating one girl when he could easily have plenty and not have to offer them anything other than the cachet that came with sleeping with the star quarterback of the football team. But then, they didn't really know Nancy and had no idea of the way she made him feel when she smiled up at him with her bright blue eyes and told him she loved him. At sixteen, Nancy was close to two years younger than Ned but she had a maturity that came with growing up as an only child to a largely absent father. She wasn't needy or clingy. And unlike some of his friend's girlfriends, Nancy didn't ring him at three o' clock in the morning demanding to know why he hadn't called her all day (unless it was to ask for his help in solving the case of some missing cheerleader but that was a different matter entirely).
As though weirdly able to sense he was thinking about her, Nancy suddenly turned to Ned, a playful expression on her face.
"Any idea of your plans for later, Nickerson?" Nancy asked with a pleading grin, pulling herself onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "As in, maybe watching a movie together and then staying here with me for the night?"
Staring at the long, tanned legs draped over his and the feel of her body pressed tightly against his chest, Ned could only swallow in answer.
"Well?" she demanded playfully, pulling back and staring tenderly into his warm brown eyes. "My dad isn't back until tomorrow and Hannah is out having dinner with friends, so we should totally take advantage of being alone while we can,"
Carson Drew was working a high profile case in New York where he was defending, Charles Martin, a man who had allegedly raped and murdered two women outside an exclusive nightclub. The gory details of the murders and the privileged Upper East Side upbringing of the defendant had grabbed the attention of the media and coverage of the trail was splashed across the front page of every newspaper. Public opinion had been hugely divided as to the guilt of Carson Drew's client; no part in due to the very dubious amount of evidence linking the man to the crime. No DNA evidence had been found, nor had any eyewitnesses come forward to testify. It seemed the only damning piece of evidence was that the murder weapon, a semi automatic gun, was registered under Martin's name and his fingerprints had been found all over the weapon. Which wasn't a bit conclusive in Ned's eyes and in fact made perfect sense if Martin was the owner of the gun. The fact the gun was the weapon used to murder two women was a little harder to explain but not impossible, considering the high rate of burglaries in Manhattan. Granted, Charles Martin hadn't reported a break-in but it was still in the realm of possibility that with his high flying lifestyle, the man simply hadn't even noticed. The very fact that Carson Drew had agreed to defend Martin in itself spoke volumes as Nancy often said that her father was very selective in choosing his clients, namely that he refused to defend anyone he suspected or knew to be guilty.
"That sounds like it could be fun," Ned replied suggestively, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers gently. "What exactly do you have in mind?" he murmured, unable to contain his groans of pleasure as Nancy impatiently worked on the buttons on his shirt, her lips pressed lightly against his neck.
--
A few days later and Nancy luxuriated in the blasts of almost freezing air that circulated around the room. After spending the entire evening stretched out alongside Bess and George in her garden, torturing their bikini clad bodies under the scorching sun, Nancy was glad to be out of it, draining the end of her can of diet coke as she stared transfixed to the events unfolding on the television screen. Charles Martin had been acquitted of all charges and was now sauntering down the steps of the court house, every reporter in town it seemed, clamoring for an interview with the newly released man. Martin's expression was somehow smug and Nancy didn't like that. Neither it seemed did the tight group of people gathered at the bottom of the steps; the victim's families Nancy presumed. Their expressions both shocked and angry, a number of the family members were crying quietly, their heads resting supportively on one another's shoulders while an older man made his fury more audible, shouting menacing threats at the seemingly unaffected Charles Martin who was by now conducting a charming interview with one of the lead anchors from CNN.
Hearing her cell phone ring, Nancy pulled it from amongst of the chaos of the bag, smiling when she saw that the call was from her father.
"Hi, Dad," she smiled happily, pulling her long legs underneath her as she settled back against the sofa to talk to her father. "Congratulations on winning the case. I was just watching it on television,"
Carson Drew's international reputation as a formidable defense lawyer meant that he was constantly in demand, his job taking him to fight cases all over the country. Consequently, Carson was often absent from home, leaving Nancy alone with Hannah and over the years, she had in a way become used to it. But lately it seemed, that her father was away on business even more than usual and the rare times he was in River Heights, he seemed a little edgy and distant. It wasn't like Carson and often, Nancy was tempted to try to talk to her father and maybe make him help her understand what was going on. But then his phone would ring and her father would have to go and the moment would have passed yet again.
"Thanks, Honey," he replied and Nancy could hear the tiredness in his voice. When Carson was in the middle of the case, especially one as high profile as the case he had just tried, Nancy knew that sleeping and eating weren't anywhere near being a priority. "How's my favorite daughter doing?"
"You mean, your only daughter," Nancy reminded him with a laugh before dutifully filling him in on the tests scores from a recent calculus exam and indulging him with some of the happenings with her friends, conveniently omitting the night she had spent with Ned. "Dad, when are you planning to get home? It feels like ages since I've seen you and I'm dying to hear all about the case,"
"I'll be home tonight, I promise," Carson replied softly and Nancy knew her father felt guilty sometimes for being away so often.
"I'll have Hannah make all your favorites," Nancy declared brightly, talking with her father for a few more minutes before running excitedly into the kitchen to Hannah to make the necessary arrangements for dinner.
--
Shooed from the kitchen by an insistent Hannah, Nancy and Carson took their usual positions on the pair of overstuffed sofas in the living room. Hearing pots clattering and Hannah's cheerful singing emanating from the kitchen, Nancy would normally feel guilty for leaving the housekeeper to clear the dinner dishes on her own, but tonight she was simply grateful for the opportunity to spend some rare time alone with her father.
Hannah had opened all the windows and the night air had brought some considerable coolness to the house, making Nancy feel slightly chilled in her light summer dress. Goose pimples rising on her flesh, Nancy pulled the old blanket draped on the back of the sofa around her shoulders, smiling slightly as her father gazed at her in concern.
"Feeling okay, Nan?" Carson asked as he stepped up from the sofa to close the offending window, evidently feeling the cold himself.
"Fine," Nancy replied brightly, inexplicably reassured by both the warmth of the blanket and the presence of her father beside her. A remnant of her childhood, the worn wool blanket had seen Nancy through many a childhood illness, when she used to lie drowsily on the sofa, cocooned in the blanket and gaze drowsily at the television screen until her father came home. He used to read her a story, Nancy remembered, tell her something funny and no matter how sick she felt, she used always feel better when he came in the door to her.
Things hadn't been so close between them lately but maybe now that Carson was home, that would all change. At least Nancy hoped they would.
"How was your flight, Dad?" Nancy began and after that the conversation lapsed into the way things used to be; warm and familiar, the pair comfortably engaged in a conversation on the tiny details of one another's lives that each had missed out on in the previous weeks. Nancy was dying to hear more about the trial, growing up with such a prominent defense lawyer for a father meaning she had a greater interest than most teenagers in the workings of the law. Carson was far more interested in the results of his daughter's preliminary SAT scores, though he did enquire lightly about Ned.
Coverage of the trial was playing on almost every station on the television and finally conceding defeat, Carson switched the television off before turning to his daughter wearily.
"Nancy, I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you in the morning, okay?"
"Sure," she smiled, her gaze wandering to her watch and seeing it was only ten o' clock, Nancy wondered if it wasn't too late to take up Ned on his offer of going to the movies. "Love you,"
"Love you too, Nan," her father replied with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss her gently on the forehead when a loud knock on the door roused them to their senses.
"Who could that be calling at this hour," her father grumbled discontentedly, straightening up and gazing towards the front door.
"Ned said he might call over," Nancy admitted with a guilty smile as she stretched luxuriously, her long legs sprawled along the length of the sofa.
"It's a little late for him to be calling over, isn't it," Carson grumbled before being forced to laugh at himself a little as he caught the bemused expression on his daughter's face. "Okay, I'll answer the door and then head upstairs and leave the two of you in peace once you promise me that Ned will be gone home by midnight,"
"Dad, just answer the door, please." Nancy pleaded through gritted teeth, hating the way her father with a mere glance or throwaway comment could so easily make her feel like a six-year-old again.
Carson looked like he was going to argue with her but then turned away, mumbling affectionately under his breath that she was definitely her father's daughter.
Running her fingers lazily through her red-blonde hair, Nancy wondered idly if she might wear a newly purchased sea-blue dress, if Ned had indeed decided to whisk her off to the party. She might even stretch to putting some effort into her hair, though not too much as Nancy knew how impatient Ned could be if held hostage to her sometimes rigorous beauty regime.
The sound of raised voices roused Nancy to her senses. Sitting up, Nancy strained to listen to what fragments of the heated conversation she could, realizing unsettlingly that although she could obviously recognize her father's voice, the other was strange and unfamiliar and was venting furiously at Carson. Unsettled, Nancy crept warily towards the door not wanting to intrude upon what could be a confidential conversation with a client.
The level of the voices only rose and Nancy felt compelled to go to her father's aid, feeling strangely unsettled by the unfolding scene.
Poking her head around the door, Nancy gasped audibly seeing a gun aimed menacingly in the other man's hand. His dark shock of hair and piercing blue eyes were oddly familiar, she realized, her heart practically exploding out of her chest as she retreated shakily back into the living room.
What the hell was she going to do?
In the movies, she would have a gun or some sort of weapon and the police would arrive just in time, their sirens wailing as they screeched to a halt just outside the house.
The police, that was it, why hadn't she thought of that before? she cursed herself inwardly before fumbling in her bag for her phone.
Her bag was as ever, a chaotic mess and sifting through sticky tubes of lipgloss and half empty packages of gum, Nancy felt like she was going to scream with frustration when her fingers mercifully closed around her cell phone.
Punching 911 impatiently into the screen, Nancy's was about to hit the call button, when the sound of a gunshot rang throughout the house.
"Dad," Nancy screamed, dropping the cell phone in shock and running to her father's aid but it was too late, for Carson Drew was already dead, his blood pooling in an ever growing halo of red