Title: Heirloom
Author: MMB
Rating - PG
Category - V
Spoilers - "Island of the Haunted"
Timeline - Christmas Eve immediately after the events of "Island of the Haunted"
Keywords - MPSF
Summary - the holidays are hard on folks with no families
Disclaimer - They aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...
Miss Parker replaced the telephone handset in the base carefully and
gently, although she would have rather thrown the thing as hard as she
could against the fireplace stonework so she could enjoy the sight of
it shattering into a million pieces. If it wasn't so ironic, it would
be downright funny; just as Daddy had done so many times before, this
time it was Lyle who called to cancel Christmas plans at the very
moment he was due to pick her up. Even though the occasion had been
practically a command performance rather than an invitation - Raines
didn't have the slightest idea how to treat either of them like his
own - it still had been the only Christmas invitation that had come
her way this year.
She threw her head back and fought hard against the desire to let down
and cry out her disappointment, but merely closed her eyes and sighed
deeply to get control of her emotions instead. It was her first
Christmas since her father's plunge into the mid-Atlantic weeks earlier.
Her father - she still thought of him as that, even though she knew the
odds were decidedly against it. She desperately wanted and needed to
connect to something, to someone, whom she could call hers in a world
where every truth she'd ever believed in was slowly unraveling and being
exposed as a lie or illusion.
But she knew nothing would be served by her breaking down. She was a
Parker after all; she would handle this like she always did: straight on
with a stiff upper lip. After all, she'd been well-trained in dealing
with just this kind of disappointment. Daddy had let her down in exactly
this way for far too many years in a row, so being let down by her
serial killer brother and/or a ghoulish paternal wannabe simply shouldn't
and wouldn't be allowed to matter that much at all. She'd rather see
either or both of them dead than sit with them at a dinner table
anyway...
She moved over to near the stairs and began pulling hairpins from her
chignon, so that soon her hair was tumbling down around her shoulders.
Then she leaned down and pulled off first one high-heeled shoe and then
the other, sighing as her nylonned feet landed comfortably on the carpet.
She climbed her stairs slowly, pulling at the zipper to her emerald silk
gown, so that by the time she reached her bedroom, the dress was falling
from her shoulders. It didn't take long to remove the rest of the fine
trappings of eveningwear and replace them with a sleek set of jeans and
a warm turtleneck sweater. She sat on the end of the bed and tied on
some comfortable athletic shoes, quickly ran a brush through her hair to
remove the last vestiges of the up-do and then trotted down the stairs.
It was Christmas Eve, damn it, and she had been ready to go out to eat.
There was no way in Hell that she was going to turn around and cook
anything for herself. She threw her leather overcoat on, wrapped her
new scarf around her neck and grabbed up her purse. There was one
decent steakhouse in Blue Cove, and by God she was going to have dinner
out, even if it was all by herself. Miss Parker climbed into her Boxer,
revved the engine, threw it in gear and barreled down the driveway
toward the road, then headed off towards town.
There was very little trouble finding a parking place in front of the
Rope and Spurs, it being Christmas Eve and all. Miss Parker climbed
from her car and, pulling her leather coat tighter over the scarf
against a chilled wind that promised yet another spate of snow flurries
by morning, pushed through the double doors and into the foyer of the
steakhouse. The maitre d' gestured about a virtually empty restaurant,
and invited her to take her choice of seats. She chose one by the
window so she could busy herself with looking out onto a deserted
stretch of road rather than the empty seat across the table from her.
She was staring down at the menu, not sure whether to order a meal
sizeable enough to provide leftovers for a Christmas dinner at home
alone tomorrow or not, when the solitary waiter on duty came up to her
table and served her a glass of wine she hadn't ordered.
When she looked up at the man in confusion, he merely stood aside a bit
and gestured across the restaurant where, with his own wine glass
raised in a mute salute, sat Sydney. The aging psychiatrist made no
move to join her, but rather gestured to a seat at his table with a nod,
leaving the decision of whether or not she wanted to continue to dine
alone to her. Miss Parker knew that if she declined and stayed put, he
wouldn't press the issue; but it WAS Christmas Eve, after all...
With a nod to the waiter, she rose from her seat, took up purse, scarf,
coat and wineglass, and slowly walked over to join him. "Fancy meeting
you here, Syd," she said softly, draping the coat over one of the extra
chairs onto which she had already dropped her purse and then seating
herself across from him.
"I could say the same thing to you," Sydney responded drolly. "I thought
you had left early to..." He caught sight of her expression, and his
words died for a moment, then, with a sympathetic sigh, "Who cancelled,
Raines or Lyle?"
"Does it matter? I really don't want to talk about it," she snapped
tiredly. "I'd just as soon forget all about them, and Jarod, and the
whole damned Centre, just for a little while." When the greying head
across from her nodded in agreement, she tipped her head at him. "For
that matter, Freud, didn't you announce a couple days about that you
and Michelle were going to..."
This time it was Sydney's pained expression that stilled the rest of
her question unspoken. "Evidently Michelle's husband's family had made
plans for a reunion meeting in Toronto, and they didn't fill her and
Nicholas in on the details until very late yesterday. Her call left me
barely enough time to cancel my reservation without penalty. And I'd
just as soon not talk about that either, if you don't mind," he rumbled
unhappily.
Miss Parker nodded her concession, then raised her wineglass. "To two
holiday orphans, Syd."
Sydney's lips quirked with the beginnings of a smile as her toast
jarred him from the rut of emptiness he'd been feeling since
Michelle's call. "That's an interesting way of putting it, Parker,"
he said, raising his glass to hers and clinking them together gently.
"To holiday orphans." They each took a sip of wine, and then Sydney
nodded at the menu the waiter had returned to Miss Parker as she had
sat down. "You haven't ordered yet."
"Have you?"
"Just a few moments before I saw you come in. Did you decide what you
want?"
Parker nodded, her appetite reasserting itself now that she had a
dinner companion. Sydney signaled the waiter to their table so that
she could make her order.
"So," he said when they were alone again, sitting back more
comfortably in his chair, "what are your plans for tomorrow?"
Parker twisted her mouth in a wry expression. "Nothing special, I
guess. I am a holiday orphan, after all..." She took another sip of
her wine. "I'll probably sit around, maybe build a fire, catch up on
my reading. What about you?"
"I had thought of driving up to the cabin at Angel Lake, actually," he
said wistfully. "I guess I'm still in the habit of thinking of spending
my Christmases with Jacob. Even now that he's gone..."
"Bad idea! Its going to snow tonight and tomorrow, Syd," Parker warned.
"I don't think you're going to want to be on mountain roads at all."
"I haven't anything better to do," he replied with a shrug. "As a
fellow holiday orphan, you know how it is... I've got the rest of the
weekend off, so I figured why stick around the house moping by myself
when I could go up to the cabin and be near Jacob."
There was a long moment of silence, while each pondered the
inadequacies of their respective Christmas plans. Then, "How about
you come over, and I'll make you a Christmas dinner instead?" Miss
Parker asked, surprising herself almost as much as she did Sydney in
the asking.
Sydney's wineglass had halted halfway to his lips, and he blinked his
surprise. "Spend Christmas Day with you?" He kept his eyes trained
on her face as he took his sip while awaiting her response.
"Yeah," she drew out, nodding. The more she thought of it, the more
she liked the idea. "You really don't want to be driving up into the
mountains in a snowstorm, and I don't want to be worrying about whether
you'll make it up and back in one piece." Sydney chuckled into his
wineglass at the thought of her worrying about him, and she gave him a
quick, mock glare. "Besides," she sat back as the waiter brought their
salads, "what better way for two holiday orphans to spend the holidays
than together. Us against the world, and all that."
Sydney began smiling, but he waited until the waiter had left to lean
forward and offer, "I have a better idea, Parker. I do accept your
invitation to dinner; but I suggest you cook it at my place instead,
where I already have the supplies for a pretty decent Christmas dinner
on hand. I had intended to cook one large meal and then eat leftovers
for the entire weekend. We both know all the stores are already closed
for the next day or so; so unless you've already bought everything you
need, shopping now at this late hours is out of the question. I, on
the other hand, can provide the ingredients and the kitchen - if you'll
help cook it and share it with me."
"You're taking a chance I'll know how to fix what you have on hand,"
Miss Parker's eyes twinkled at him mischievously.
"If you're anything of your mother's daughter, I don't think that will
be much of a problem," he responded with an answering twinkle of
audacity in his eye.
"I never knew you to be such a trusting soul," she quipped, then took
a bite of salad.
Sydney leaned back with a smug, wise look on his face. "I prefer to
think of it as being a shrewd judge of character and ability, based on
years of experience."
That finally got her to chuckling heartily, with him joining her.
Miss Parker shook her head at him fondly, and they both dug into their
salads with gusto.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sydney insisted on paying for both their dinners, and wouldn't hear
any argument on the subject at all. "You can tip," he allowed finally,
magnanimously. He waited while an only slightly mollified Miss Parker
dug in her wallet for the appropriate arrangement of bills, then stood
and helped her on with her coat.
"Where's your car, Syd?" Miss Parker asked as they exited the double
doors and the only car around she could see was hers.
"I walked," Sydney shrugged. He looked up at the snow beginning to
fall as it was reflected in the pool of the streetlamp. "I... had
some excess energy to work off, and it was neither this cold nor
snowing when I got here." He pulled his coat closed around his neck.
"You were right, the weather is turning ugly."
"Get in," Miss Parker said, unlocking the passenger door of her Boxer.
"I'll give you a ride home."
"Actually," he said as she settled into the driver's seat next to him
and started the engine, "I'm glad you offered the ride. You left so
early today, I didn't get a chance to give you your gift at work today.
So you can come in and have at least one present to open on Christmas
Eve."
"Sydney..." Miss Parker looked over at her old friend fondly. "I'm
already wearing the scarf you gave me." She flipped one trailing end
of the warmth at her neck at him to demonstrate. They had for many
years exchanged their gifts at the office party, and this year had
been no exception. "You don't have to give me anything else..."
His answering smile had a touch of sadness to it. "I know, Parker.
But this is something very special I've been intending to give to you
for a quite a while; and I think, considering everything that's
happened lately, that now would the most appropriate time. And I
need to be there when you open it, because I'm afraid it will need
some explaining."
"Okay." Her voice was soft, vulnerable, and a little hesitant and
thoughtful. She'd never received a meaningful gift from anyone but
her mother or Jarod before. The last gift with any meaning she'd
received had come just a few years ago in the form of the white
rabbit she'd named Bugs she'd received from Jarod. She knew that
Bugs had been intended as much a pointed reminder of gentler times
between them as he had been a simple gift, but she cherished the
animal nonetheless.
The thing that had hurt her the worst of all this Christmas was the
complete lack of a gift exchange between herself and her father.
Spending time shopping for just the right gift for him had for years
been the one activity that got her into the 'spirit' of the season,
and had been a missing piece in her life this year. It had never
seemed to matter that in years past, Daddy's gifts had always been
extremely belated dinners at a fancy restaurant, accompanied by the
obligatory impersonal envelope with tickets to either a cruise or
resort vacation. Nor had it mattered much that the reservations
inevitably ended up cancelled and the money refunded to her in order
to keep the hunt for Jarod current.
What had mattered was the emotional connection she had made once a
year with the one person left who truly mattered in her world - and
what hurt worst was that this vital emotional connection had been
severed.
There WAS no gift exchange to speak of between herself and the rest
of her so-called family and never had been; and if she had her wish,
there probably never would be either. She and Lyle were barely on
speaking terms, much less on each other's Christmas lists. Her baby
brother - if indeed he even was her half-brother - was ensconced
somewhere in the bowels of the Centre tower, and she hadn't seen him
in months, much less bought him anything. Ethan, the only family
member with whom she might eventually want to connect anytime in the
future, was now quietly and safely recovering from a lifetime of the
Centre's and Raines' abuse with his and Jarod's dad. Jarod had made
those arrangements when Ethan returned after vanishing for several
weeks after Alex's death - and naturally Major Charles was making
very sure neither she nor anyone else at the Centre had any idea
where they were. Not that she disagreed with this at all...
For Sydney - of all people - to decide at this late date to give her
something "very special"...
She steered the car smoothly and knowledgeably around the corners
that would take them to Sydney's home, the silence between the two
in the car not an uncomfortable one. Miss Parker glanced over at
her passenger and found him watching the scenery go by, his face a
study in calm and contentedness. He felt her scrutiny and glanced
back; and before he returned to watching the road go by, the edges
of his lips turned upward in a reassuring smile that for some reason
warmed her heart.
The Boxer glided to a halt in his driveway, and Sydney escorted her
up the now-slippery walkway to his front door with a cavalier hand
to her elbow, unlocked the door, then gestured her in. The spacious
house was warm and cozy, with the embers from a fire still glowing
visibly on the hearth in the paneled living room before he flipped
the light switch. He helped her out of her overcoat and hung it and
the scarf in the little entryway closet, and with a "Make yourself
at home while I bring it down," gestured her toward the living room
while he turned the landing light on and headed upstairs.
Miss Parker had never been in Sydney's home with time to kill, and
she wrapped her arms around herself while roaming the edges of the
room and investigating the decor. The living room was like Sydney
himself: very masculine, and yet very refined. Three of the walls,
including the one with the fireplace, were lined with bookcases,
and many of the books held there looked old or valuable. Two very
comfortable leather easy chairs sat near the front picture window
that looked out over his snow-covered front lawn and prized topiary
bushes, with a small table and reading lamp sitting between the
chairs. In front of the hearth, a matching leather couch stretched
with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it, on which sat a
stone chessboard with chessmen at the ready.
Miss Parker went over to the mantle and studied the pictures lined
up there. There was the one with very youthful, very athletic-
looking twins, Sydney and Jacob, obviously taken at a light moment
during either their late university days or their first few years
at the Centre. There was one of a slightly-older Sydney with his
arms around a beautiful young woman - Miss Parker deduced this must
be "Michelle" - next to which stood a much more recent picture of
this woman, now obviously middle-aged, sitting with a admittedly
handsome young man who bore a striking resemblance to Sydney.
Nicholas, she mused, touching the glass of the frame very
tentatively - so this was Sydney's son. He had his father's eyes...
There was a picture of Jarod - obviously one of the yearly ID
pictures taken of all Centre live-ins and employees - taken probably
not too long before the Pretender had escaped and enlarged for
framing. Surprisingly, there was a picture of her mother Catherine
and herself as a young girl - a copy of her all-time favorite picture
of her mother, the one she was never without. There was one more
picture of her, and at this one Miss Parker halted in surprise and
picked up the picture to study it more closely.
It had been taken during her university graduation ceremony, which
had taken place in Tokyo. It was a candid shot, taken at the very
moment the president of the university had handed her the diploma on
the stage - and the only way ANYONE could have caught that shot would
have been through a telephoto lens from the audience. It recorded a
moment that she had thought nobody she knew had ever witnessed.
Daddy had been called back to the Centre, of course, that very
morning and missed the entire spectacle. She returned the picture
gently to its place, even though she couldn't bring herself to
completely relinquish hold on the frame.
Sydney had been there. He'd traveled halfway around the globe and
been there to see her in what she'd always thought of as her finest
- and prior to Thomas' murder, her loneliest - moment.
And she'd never known.
She heard his steps behind her and turned to him with shining eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly, surprised she didn't
sound as shaken as she felt.
Sydney's gaze flicked from her face to the photograph she was still
touching and back, and then he stepped into the room with a shy,
chagrined look on his face. "It wasn't my place, Miss Parker. Your
father..."
"Wasn't there, Sydney," she finished for him, and she saw deep
surprise flash across his face. "You didn't know he wasn't there,"
she breathed, suddenly understanding. "You thought he WAS."
"I always thought that all you needed to know was that you had
someone there, watching you graduate," he said softly. "And it was
only fitting that the person there for you be your father, not
someone who was merely a Centre hired hand." He glanced back up at
the picture on the mantle. "I was in your father's office when he
finalized arrangements to leave for Tokyo for the commencement
ceremony, so I honestly thought that he HAD attended. I just
figured that he didn't need to know that the vacation he was
approving for me just before he left was so that I could attend as
well."
Miss Parker found herself struggling with a lump in her throat from
the memory. "He was called back to the office the morning of the
ceremony - I suppose either Raines or the Triumverate called, and he
naturally went running. I was SO disappointed," she remembered sadly,
pointing at the picture. "I was almost crying when this picture was
taken. Of all my friends, I was the only one who had no one..."
"Had I known he'd left, I would have told you I was there," Sydney
said gently, coming close at last and touching her elbow with a
comforting hand. "Everyone deserves to know their best moments in
life are shared with someone who cares about them. I knew I had no
right, but I was so proud of you that day, Miss Valedictorian, that
I..."
His words may have ceased, but the look in his eye before he looked
away told Miss Parker far more than she had ever imagined, more than
she had ever wanted to know. She looked back at the picture, able
at long last to touch the memory it evoked without such a gaping sense
of loneliness, then reached out and smoothed a hand gently against his
upper arm. "I'm glad I know now," she said softly. "Thank you,
Sydney. It means a lot to me to know you were there."
Her gesture seemed to unbalance the older man for a moment. He looked
down and cleared his throat awkwardly. Then, unexpectedly, he looked
back up and brought out a flat jewelry box covered in rich blue velour
from behind his back and extended it to her perfunctorily. "This is
for you," he stated with an unreadable tone of voice, placing the box
in her hands.
"Sydney, what..."
"Uh-uhn. Open it first," he urged gently, backing away a step, "and
then I'll tell you about it."
She looked from his face back down to the velour box, running her hand
across the soft fabric appreciatively, then carefully pulled against
the spring-loaded top and opened the box - and gasped.
A one-carat, square-cut diamond, set in a white metal that could only
have been platinum, was suspended from a small curved chevron of old-
fashioned filigreed platinum scrollwork, all of which hung from a fine
platinum chain that ran through two secure rings at the wingtips of the
chevron. Two much smaller round diamonds sparkled amid the filigree on
either side of the square stone, which was set in such a way that it
hung from one of its four corners. The necklace lay against the black
velvet interior, the pendant itself rich and striking, the delicate
chain curved gracefully around a raised mound that imitated a woman's
neck.
Miss Parker's grey eyes were huge when she looked up at him from the
box, and her voice was a shocked whisper. "Sydney, this is exquisite!
But I can't..."
"I told you once that when Jacob and I got back to Lyons after the war,
there was nothing left of the house my father had built," Sydney began
softly, his face indicating that he was reminiscing and not really
hearing her at all. "But, you see, my father had been warned of the
possibility of their betrayal to the Nazis a few weeks prior to our...
arrest. About a month before the Germans came, he sent off a box of
our most valuable possessions to a distant cousin in England for safe-
keeping, in case the rumors were true.
"In the time it took us to get from Dachau to Lyons, my father's
cousin had come over and was staying in Lyons, looking for us. When
we all found each other, and found out that Jacob and I were... Well,
anyway, this cousin brought us back to England to stay with him while
we finished our basic schooling. Later we came to America to go to
university. All that time, our cousin used the proceeds from the sale
of first one and then another of the valuables our father had sent him
to pay for our maintenance, both in England and while we were in school
here. When he died, his widow sent on what was left of those valuables
to the two of us jointly. There were only four pieces left.
"By that time, however, we were both working at the Centre. The pay
was good, and we had each settled down to what we expected would be
fine, long lives. We divided the heirlooms evenly between us at the
time, each to pass along to our own loved ones later on as we chose. I
took this watch," Sydney pulled a gold watch from his vest pocket,
"which was my father's, and the signet ring that belonged to my
father's father. I decided to keep the watch and use it myself as a
constant memento. The ring I gave to Michelle a long time ago, back
when I was thinking of asking her to marry me - she still has it, but
doesn't wear it. I've convinced her to pass it along to our first
grandchild, when or if one ever comes of age. For what its worth, I've
stipulated in my will that the watch go to Jarod after I'm gone.
"As his share, Jacob took my grandfather's compass and this necklace,
and then one day announced that he was going to put his share of the
heirlooms away for his children - or mine, if he had none." His face
clouded, then he continued, "You know that Jacob died without ever
having children. Well, when I received all of his property that he'd
put away in his safety deposit box after his death, I found what he'd
put away.
"Two years ago, I gave the compass to my son, Nicholas. I thought, at
the time, he needed something of his grandfather's - a piece of his
family's history to give us common bond from which to build a
relationship. As my son, it is what Jacob would have wanted. That
leaves..."
"Sydney," Miss Parker whispered, a tear spilling over onto her cheek.
"This should go to Michelle, she's..."
The older man shook his head slowly. "No. Remember that I told you
Jacob had always intended the heirlooms he'd kept to go to his
children or mine, not to a wife or lover. I owe it to him to continue
to abide by his wishes, especially when it comes to that which was his."
He slowly lifted his clear brown eyes to meet hers, a tender warmth
lighting them as if from behind. "You are as close as I will ever come
to having a daughter or niece, Parker, and God knows I'm as proud of you
as if you were my own. I want you to have it."
He lifted the sparkling necklace from the case and moved behind Miss
Parker, who stood too stunned to protest, reached around her and draped
the piece about her neck, then carefully fastened the clasp at the nape
of her neck. He moved back to face her and, with gentle fingers,
adjusted the pendant on its chain so that it hung straight on her
sweater. Those same gentle fingers then reached up to brush aside the
trickling tears before they dripped from her chin.
"This is the only thing of my mother's we managed to keep over the
years. I can even remember the last time my mother wore it," he said
with a soft look on his face. "It was a Christmas Eve affair, and she
was all in green velvet. My brother and I used to think that she
looked like a queen when she'd dress up and put it on." His expression
cleared, and he gazed at her warmly, taking in the sight of the necklace
laying softly against the powder-blue sweater. "She was slender, with
dark hair, much like you. I think, perhaps, that you would have liked
her, and she you. I know she would approve of your having her necklace.
It suits you."
"My God, Sydney, I don't know what to say," she managed finally, a hand
at her chest fingering the pendant in disbelief.
Sydney leaned forward and kissed Miss Parker very gently on the forehead.
"Just say 'Merry Christmas', Miss Parker," he said, a hand resting
lightly on each of her shoulders, "and then smile for me."
With a full heart, Miss Parker stretched up and brushed her lips against
his cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment,
feeling his hands move around her to give her a gentle, tentative hug.
When she pushed back away from him again, the smile she gave him was
heartfelt and very vulnerable. "Merry Christmas, Syd. I just wish I
had something to give you half as nice in return..."
Sydney gave her a gentle smile and brushed the remaining tear tracks
from her cheek with the backs of his fingers; then, while stepping back
from her before either of them descended any further into maudlin
sentimentalism, something caught his eye and gave him an idea. "Did you
ever learn to play chess, Miss Parker?" he asked, half-turning to
gesture at the set on the coffee table behind her.
Miss Parker rubbed at her nose quickly to try to banish any more
waterworks, stepping back herself just a bit and taking a deep breath to
let the unexpected emotions between them subside to a more comfortable
level. "Yes, but I haven't played in years," she admitted quietly, "not
since college."
"Perhaps can I talk you into a game?" Sydney's voice was hesitant, as
if preparing himself for a quick refusal, and yet eloquent in
expressing his wistful desire that she accept his invitation. "I
haven't played for several years either, not since Jarod escaped..."
When he saw her blink and actually pause to consider the invitation,
he quickly continued very frankly, "For what its worth, Miss Parker,
I've enjoyed your company tonight more than you'll ever know. And
I'll be honest and admit that I'm selfish enough that I'd rather the
evening not end quite yet."
"I've enjoyed our time too, Syd," Miss Parker admitted softly, knowing
she'd enjoyed her time more than she could even admit to herself. And
then there was the necklace... "I'm in no hurry to be alone again, and
a chess game would be a nice end to the day."
"Then maybe I should also mention that I have a perfectly suitable
guestroom that you can use tonight; and draw your attention to the fact
that if you stayed here, you wouldn't have to turn around and drive back
into town tomorrow to help cook our dinner. Besides," he paused with a
gently teasing look in his eye, "someone I'm very fond of reminded me
just this evening that the weather was going to turn nasty tonight and
tomorrow - and its already beginning to snow. I don't want to have to
worry about you getting home in one piece when you're driving tired late
at night in a snowstorm..."
Miss Parker heard the echoes of her own original argument in favor of
the Christmas dinner turned back on her, and she began to smile
inwardly. Her fingers toyed with the gems at her throat, and she gazed
thoughtfully at the silver-haired man who was patiently awaiting her
answer.
She wondered why she had ever allowed herself to be convinced that to
let him, or anyone else, get close would constitute disloyalty to her
father. Despite his being held firmly and often quite rudely at arm's
distance, Sydney had still proven a constant source of stability and
security in her life since she was very young. He too had played his
part in the lies and illusions of her life - but she generally
discovered later, he had usually done so either to protect her or to
keep a promise to another. And as she'd just been reminded only a
little while earlier, he had also been more than willing to make up
for those times when her "father" had failed her. He had been there
for her in the past, had been there all along, and was here for her
now.
Here was a connection to someone she could privately call her own, one
that nobody else had to know about. And all she had to do was reach
out and accept it.
What was she waiting for?
"I think I'd like that," she agreed hesitantly. As his smile widened,
she found herself feeling warmer, more cared for, than she had felt
in a very long time - and the hesitancy with which she'd agreed soon
evaporated in favor of an intuition that she'd made the right choice.
Obviously immensely pleased by her decision, Sydney gestured for her
to take her place on the couch while he pulled up one of the easy
chairs to face her across the chessboard and then stirred the fire
and added a new log to provide continued warmth into the evening. He
paused on his way back to his chair and thought for a moment, then
went over to a low cabinet. He withdrew two snifters and carefully
decanted some of his prized cognac into each, then carried them back
and handed Miss Parker one. "A toast, Miss Parker: to our being
holiday orphans no longer," he intoned, raising his glass to her.
"To newer and better holiday traditions for us both from now on," she
agreed, gently tapping her glass against his and joining him in taking
the first delicate sip of the mellow liquor. Then she set her snifter
on the table next to the chessboard and, patting the pendant on her
chest thoughtfully - still marveling at its presence there - pondered
her first move in this new game.
Feedback: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com
Author: MMB
Rating - PG
Category - V
Spoilers - "Island of the Haunted"
Timeline - Christmas Eve immediately after the events of "Island of the Haunted"
Keywords - MPSF
Summary - the holidays are hard on folks with no families
Disclaimer - They aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...
Miss Parker replaced the telephone handset in the base carefully and
gently, although she would have rather thrown the thing as hard as she
could against the fireplace stonework so she could enjoy the sight of
it shattering into a million pieces. If it wasn't so ironic, it would
be downright funny; just as Daddy had done so many times before, this
time it was Lyle who called to cancel Christmas plans at the very
moment he was due to pick her up. Even though the occasion had been
practically a command performance rather than an invitation - Raines
didn't have the slightest idea how to treat either of them like his
own - it still had been the only Christmas invitation that had come
her way this year.
She threw her head back and fought hard against the desire to let down
and cry out her disappointment, but merely closed her eyes and sighed
deeply to get control of her emotions instead. It was her first
Christmas since her father's plunge into the mid-Atlantic weeks earlier.
Her father - she still thought of him as that, even though she knew the
odds were decidedly against it. She desperately wanted and needed to
connect to something, to someone, whom she could call hers in a world
where every truth she'd ever believed in was slowly unraveling and being
exposed as a lie or illusion.
But she knew nothing would be served by her breaking down. She was a
Parker after all; she would handle this like she always did: straight on
with a stiff upper lip. After all, she'd been well-trained in dealing
with just this kind of disappointment. Daddy had let her down in exactly
this way for far too many years in a row, so being let down by her
serial killer brother and/or a ghoulish paternal wannabe simply shouldn't
and wouldn't be allowed to matter that much at all. She'd rather see
either or both of them dead than sit with them at a dinner table
anyway...
She moved over to near the stairs and began pulling hairpins from her
chignon, so that soon her hair was tumbling down around her shoulders.
Then she leaned down and pulled off first one high-heeled shoe and then
the other, sighing as her nylonned feet landed comfortably on the carpet.
She climbed her stairs slowly, pulling at the zipper to her emerald silk
gown, so that by the time she reached her bedroom, the dress was falling
from her shoulders. It didn't take long to remove the rest of the fine
trappings of eveningwear and replace them with a sleek set of jeans and
a warm turtleneck sweater. She sat on the end of the bed and tied on
some comfortable athletic shoes, quickly ran a brush through her hair to
remove the last vestiges of the up-do and then trotted down the stairs.
It was Christmas Eve, damn it, and she had been ready to go out to eat.
There was no way in Hell that she was going to turn around and cook
anything for herself. She threw her leather overcoat on, wrapped her
new scarf around her neck and grabbed up her purse. There was one
decent steakhouse in Blue Cove, and by God she was going to have dinner
out, even if it was all by herself. Miss Parker climbed into her Boxer,
revved the engine, threw it in gear and barreled down the driveway
toward the road, then headed off towards town.
There was very little trouble finding a parking place in front of the
Rope and Spurs, it being Christmas Eve and all. Miss Parker climbed
from her car and, pulling her leather coat tighter over the scarf
against a chilled wind that promised yet another spate of snow flurries
by morning, pushed through the double doors and into the foyer of the
steakhouse. The maitre d' gestured about a virtually empty restaurant,
and invited her to take her choice of seats. She chose one by the
window so she could busy herself with looking out onto a deserted
stretch of road rather than the empty seat across the table from her.
She was staring down at the menu, not sure whether to order a meal
sizeable enough to provide leftovers for a Christmas dinner at home
alone tomorrow or not, when the solitary waiter on duty came up to her
table and served her a glass of wine she hadn't ordered.
When she looked up at the man in confusion, he merely stood aside a bit
and gestured across the restaurant where, with his own wine glass
raised in a mute salute, sat Sydney. The aging psychiatrist made no
move to join her, but rather gestured to a seat at his table with a nod,
leaving the decision of whether or not she wanted to continue to dine
alone to her. Miss Parker knew that if she declined and stayed put, he
wouldn't press the issue; but it WAS Christmas Eve, after all...
With a nod to the waiter, she rose from her seat, took up purse, scarf,
coat and wineglass, and slowly walked over to join him. "Fancy meeting
you here, Syd," she said softly, draping the coat over one of the extra
chairs onto which she had already dropped her purse and then seating
herself across from him.
"I could say the same thing to you," Sydney responded drolly. "I thought
you had left early to..." He caught sight of her expression, and his
words died for a moment, then, with a sympathetic sigh, "Who cancelled,
Raines or Lyle?"
"Does it matter? I really don't want to talk about it," she snapped
tiredly. "I'd just as soon forget all about them, and Jarod, and the
whole damned Centre, just for a little while." When the greying head
across from her nodded in agreement, she tipped her head at him. "For
that matter, Freud, didn't you announce a couple days about that you
and Michelle were going to..."
This time it was Sydney's pained expression that stilled the rest of
her question unspoken. "Evidently Michelle's husband's family had made
plans for a reunion meeting in Toronto, and they didn't fill her and
Nicholas in on the details until very late yesterday. Her call left me
barely enough time to cancel my reservation without penalty. And I'd
just as soon not talk about that either, if you don't mind," he rumbled
unhappily.
Miss Parker nodded her concession, then raised her wineglass. "To two
holiday orphans, Syd."
Sydney's lips quirked with the beginnings of a smile as her toast
jarred him from the rut of emptiness he'd been feeling since
Michelle's call. "That's an interesting way of putting it, Parker,"
he said, raising his glass to hers and clinking them together gently.
"To holiday orphans." They each took a sip of wine, and then Sydney
nodded at the menu the waiter had returned to Miss Parker as she had
sat down. "You haven't ordered yet."
"Have you?"
"Just a few moments before I saw you come in. Did you decide what you
want?"
Parker nodded, her appetite reasserting itself now that she had a
dinner companion. Sydney signaled the waiter to their table so that
she could make her order.
"So," he said when they were alone again, sitting back more
comfortably in his chair, "what are your plans for tomorrow?"
Parker twisted her mouth in a wry expression. "Nothing special, I
guess. I am a holiday orphan, after all..." She took another sip of
her wine. "I'll probably sit around, maybe build a fire, catch up on
my reading. What about you?"
"I had thought of driving up to the cabin at Angel Lake, actually," he
said wistfully. "I guess I'm still in the habit of thinking of spending
my Christmases with Jacob. Even now that he's gone..."
"Bad idea! Its going to snow tonight and tomorrow, Syd," Parker warned.
"I don't think you're going to want to be on mountain roads at all."
"I haven't anything better to do," he replied with a shrug. "As a
fellow holiday orphan, you know how it is... I've got the rest of the
weekend off, so I figured why stick around the house moping by myself
when I could go up to the cabin and be near Jacob."
There was a long moment of silence, while each pondered the
inadequacies of their respective Christmas plans. Then, "How about
you come over, and I'll make you a Christmas dinner instead?" Miss
Parker asked, surprising herself almost as much as she did Sydney in
the asking.
Sydney's wineglass had halted halfway to his lips, and he blinked his
surprise. "Spend Christmas Day with you?" He kept his eyes trained
on her face as he took his sip while awaiting her response.
"Yeah," she drew out, nodding. The more she thought of it, the more
she liked the idea. "You really don't want to be driving up into the
mountains in a snowstorm, and I don't want to be worrying about whether
you'll make it up and back in one piece." Sydney chuckled into his
wineglass at the thought of her worrying about him, and she gave him a
quick, mock glare. "Besides," she sat back as the waiter brought their
salads, "what better way for two holiday orphans to spend the holidays
than together. Us against the world, and all that."
Sydney began smiling, but he waited until the waiter had left to lean
forward and offer, "I have a better idea, Parker. I do accept your
invitation to dinner; but I suggest you cook it at my place instead,
where I already have the supplies for a pretty decent Christmas dinner
on hand. I had intended to cook one large meal and then eat leftovers
for the entire weekend. We both know all the stores are already closed
for the next day or so; so unless you've already bought everything you
need, shopping now at this late hours is out of the question. I, on
the other hand, can provide the ingredients and the kitchen - if you'll
help cook it and share it with me."
"You're taking a chance I'll know how to fix what you have on hand,"
Miss Parker's eyes twinkled at him mischievously.
"If you're anything of your mother's daughter, I don't think that will
be much of a problem," he responded with an answering twinkle of
audacity in his eye.
"I never knew you to be such a trusting soul," she quipped, then took
a bite of salad.
Sydney leaned back with a smug, wise look on his face. "I prefer to
think of it as being a shrewd judge of character and ability, based on
years of experience."
That finally got her to chuckling heartily, with him joining her.
Miss Parker shook her head at him fondly, and they both dug into their
salads with gusto.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sydney insisted on paying for both their dinners, and wouldn't hear
any argument on the subject at all. "You can tip," he allowed finally,
magnanimously. He waited while an only slightly mollified Miss Parker
dug in her wallet for the appropriate arrangement of bills, then stood
and helped her on with her coat.
"Where's your car, Syd?" Miss Parker asked as they exited the double
doors and the only car around she could see was hers.
"I walked," Sydney shrugged. He looked up at the snow beginning to
fall as it was reflected in the pool of the streetlamp. "I... had
some excess energy to work off, and it was neither this cold nor
snowing when I got here." He pulled his coat closed around his neck.
"You were right, the weather is turning ugly."
"Get in," Miss Parker said, unlocking the passenger door of her Boxer.
"I'll give you a ride home."
"Actually," he said as she settled into the driver's seat next to him
and started the engine, "I'm glad you offered the ride. You left so
early today, I didn't get a chance to give you your gift at work today.
So you can come in and have at least one present to open on Christmas
Eve."
"Sydney..." Miss Parker looked over at her old friend fondly. "I'm
already wearing the scarf you gave me." She flipped one trailing end
of the warmth at her neck at him to demonstrate. They had for many
years exchanged their gifts at the office party, and this year had
been no exception. "You don't have to give me anything else..."
His answering smile had a touch of sadness to it. "I know, Parker.
But this is something very special I've been intending to give to you
for a quite a while; and I think, considering everything that's
happened lately, that now would the most appropriate time. And I
need to be there when you open it, because I'm afraid it will need
some explaining."
"Okay." Her voice was soft, vulnerable, and a little hesitant and
thoughtful. She'd never received a meaningful gift from anyone but
her mother or Jarod before. The last gift with any meaning she'd
received had come just a few years ago in the form of the white
rabbit she'd named Bugs she'd received from Jarod. She knew that
Bugs had been intended as much a pointed reminder of gentler times
between them as he had been a simple gift, but she cherished the
animal nonetheless.
The thing that had hurt her the worst of all this Christmas was the
complete lack of a gift exchange between herself and her father.
Spending time shopping for just the right gift for him had for years
been the one activity that got her into the 'spirit' of the season,
and had been a missing piece in her life this year. It had never
seemed to matter that in years past, Daddy's gifts had always been
extremely belated dinners at a fancy restaurant, accompanied by the
obligatory impersonal envelope with tickets to either a cruise or
resort vacation. Nor had it mattered much that the reservations
inevitably ended up cancelled and the money refunded to her in order
to keep the hunt for Jarod current.
What had mattered was the emotional connection she had made once a
year with the one person left who truly mattered in her world - and
what hurt worst was that this vital emotional connection had been
severed.
There WAS no gift exchange to speak of between herself and the rest
of her so-called family and never had been; and if she had her wish,
there probably never would be either. She and Lyle were barely on
speaking terms, much less on each other's Christmas lists. Her baby
brother - if indeed he even was her half-brother - was ensconced
somewhere in the bowels of the Centre tower, and she hadn't seen him
in months, much less bought him anything. Ethan, the only family
member with whom she might eventually want to connect anytime in the
future, was now quietly and safely recovering from a lifetime of the
Centre's and Raines' abuse with his and Jarod's dad. Jarod had made
those arrangements when Ethan returned after vanishing for several
weeks after Alex's death - and naturally Major Charles was making
very sure neither she nor anyone else at the Centre had any idea
where they were. Not that she disagreed with this at all...
For Sydney - of all people - to decide at this late date to give her
something "very special"...
She steered the car smoothly and knowledgeably around the corners
that would take them to Sydney's home, the silence between the two
in the car not an uncomfortable one. Miss Parker glanced over at
her passenger and found him watching the scenery go by, his face a
study in calm and contentedness. He felt her scrutiny and glanced
back; and before he returned to watching the road go by, the edges
of his lips turned upward in a reassuring smile that for some reason
warmed her heart.
The Boxer glided to a halt in his driveway, and Sydney escorted her
up the now-slippery walkway to his front door with a cavalier hand
to her elbow, unlocked the door, then gestured her in. The spacious
house was warm and cozy, with the embers from a fire still glowing
visibly on the hearth in the paneled living room before he flipped
the light switch. He helped her out of her overcoat and hung it and
the scarf in the little entryway closet, and with a "Make yourself
at home while I bring it down," gestured her toward the living room
while he turned the landing light on and headed upstairs.
Miss Parker had never been in Sydney's home with time to kill, and
she wrapped her arms around herself while roaming the edges of the
room and investigating the decor. The living room was like Sydney
himself: very masculine, and yet very refined. Three of the walls,
including the one with the fireplace, were lined with bookcases,
and many of the books held there looked old or valuable. Two very
comfortable leather easy chairs sat near the front picture window
that looked out over his snow-covered front lawn and prized topiary
bushes, with a small table and reading lamp sitting between the
chairs. In front of the hearth, a matching leather couch stretched
with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it, on which sat a
stone chessboard with chessmen at the ready.
Miss Parker went over to the mantle and studied the pictures lined
up there. There was the one with very youthful, very athletic-
looking twins, Sydney and Jacob, obviously taken at a light moment
during either their late university days or their first few years
at the Centre. There was one of a slightly-older Sydney with his
arms around a beautiful young woman - Miss Parker deduced this must
be "Michelle" - next to which stood a much more recent picture of
this woman, now obviously middle-aged, sitting with a admittedly
handsome young man who bore a striking resemblance to Sydney.
Nicholas, she mused, touching the glass of the frame very
tentatively - so this was Sydney's son. He had his father's eyes...
There was a picture of Jarod - obviously one of the yearly ID
pictures taken of all Centre live-ins and employees - taken probably
not too long before the Pretender had escaped and enlarged for
framing. Surprisingly, there was a picture of her mother Catherine
and herself as a young girl - a copy of her all-time favorite picture
of her mother, the one she was never without. There was one more
picture of her, and at this one Miss Parker halted in surprise and
picked up the picture to study it more closely.
It had been taken during her university graduation ceremony, which
had taken place in Tokyo. It was a candid shot, taken at the very
moment the president of the university had handed her the diploma on
the stage - and the only way ANYONE could have caught that shot would
have been through a telephoto lens from the audience. It recorded a
moment that she had thought nobody she knew had ever witnessed.
Daddy had been called back to the Centre, of course, that very
morning and missed the entire spectacle. She returned the picture
gently to its place, even though she couldn't bring herself to
completely relinquish hold on the frame.
Sydney had been there. He'd traveled halfway around the globe and
been there to see her in what she'd always thought of as her finest
- and prior to Thomas' murder, her loneliest - moment.
And she'd never known.
She heard his steps behind her and turned to him with shining eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly, surprised she didn't
sound as shaken as she felt.
Sydney's gaze flicked from her face to the photograph she was still
touching and back, and then he stepped into the room with a shy,
chagrined look on his face. "It wasn't my place, Miss Parker. Your
father..."
"Wasn't there, Sydney," she finished for him, and she saw deep
surprise flash across his face. "You didn't know he wasn't there,"
she breathed, suddenly understanding. "You thought he WAS."
"I always thought that all you needed to know was that you had
someone there, watching you graduate," he said softly. "And it was
only fitting that the person there for you be your father, not
someone who was merely a Centre hired hand." He glanced back up at
the picture on the mantle. "I was in your father's office when he
finalized arrangements to leave for Tokyo for the commencement
ceremony, so I honestly thought that he HAD attended. I just
figured that he didn't need to know that the vacation he was
approving for me just before he left was so that I could attend as
well."
Miss Parker found herself struggling with a lump in her throat from
the memory. "He was called back to the office the morning of the
ceremony - I suppose either Raines or the Triumverate called, and he
naturally went running. I was SO disappointed," she remembered sadly,
pointing at the picture. "I was almost crying when this picture was
taken. Of all my friends, I was the only one who had no one..."
"Had I known he'd left, I would have told you I was there," Sydney
said gently, coming close at last and touching her elbow with a
comforting hand. "Everyone deserves to know their best moments in
life are shared with someone who cares about them. I knew I had no
right, but I was so proud of you that day, Miss Valedictorian, that
I..."
His words may have ceased, but the look in his eye before he looked
away told Miss Parker far more than she had ever imagined, more than
she had ever wanted to know. She looked back at the picture, able
at long last to touch the memory it evoked without such a gaping sense
of loneliness, then reached out and smoothed a hand gently against his
upper arm. "I'm glad I know now," she said softly. "Thank you,
Sydney. It means a lot to me to know you were there."
Her gesture seemed to unbalance the older man for a moment. He looked
down and cleared his throat awkwardly. Then, unexpectedly, he looked
back up and brought out a flat jewelry box covered in rich blue velour
from behind his back and extended it to her perfunctorily. "This is
for you," he stated with an unreadable tone of voice, placing the box
in her hands.
"Sydney, what..."
"Uh-uhn. Open it first," he urged gently, backing away a step, "and
then I'll tell you about it."
She looked from his face back down to the velour box, running her hand
across the soft fabric appreciatively, then carefully pulled against
the spring-loaded top and opened the box - and gasped.
A one-carat, square-cut diamond, set in a white metal that could only
have been platinum, was suspended from a small curved chevron of old-
fashioned filigreed platinum scrollwork, all of which hung from a fine
platinum chain that ran through two secure rings at the wingtips of the
chevron. Two much smaller round diamonds sparkled amid the filigree on
either side of the square stone, which was set in such a way that it
hung from one of its four corners. The necklace lay against the black
velvet interior, the pendant itself rich and striking, the delicate
chain curved gracefully around a raised mound that imitated a woman's
neck.
Miss Parker's grey eyes were huge when she looked up at him from the
box, and her voice was a shocked whisper. "Sydney, this is exquisite!
But I can't..."
"I told you once that when Jacob and I got back to Lyons after the war,
there was nothing left of the house my father had built," Sydney began
softly, his face indicating that he was reminiscing and not really
hearing her at all. "But, you see, my father had been warned of the
possibility of their betrayal to the Nazis a few weeks prior to our...
arrest. About a month before the Germans came, he sent off a box of
our most valuable possessions to a distant cousin in England for safe-
keeping, in case the rumors were true.
"In the time it took us to get from Dachau to Lyons, my father's
cousin had come over and was staying in Lyons, looking for us. When
we all found each other, and found out that Jacob and I were... Well,
anyway, this cousin brought us back to England to stay with him while
we finished our basic schooling. Later we came to America to go to
university. All that time, our cousin used the proceeds from the sale
of first one and then another of the valuables our father had sent him
to pay for our maintenance, both in England and while we were in school
here. When he died, his widow sent on what was left of those valuables
to the two of us jointly. There were only four pieces left.
"By that time, however, we were both working at the Centre. The pay
was good, and we had each settled down to what we expected would be
fine, long lives. We divided the heirlooms evenly between us at the
time, each to pass along to our own loved ones later on as we chose. I
took this watch," Sydney pulled a gold watch from his vest pocket,
"which was my father's, and the signet ring that belonged to my
father's father. I decided to keep the watch and use it myself as a
constant memento. The ring I gave to Michelle a long time ago, back
when I was thinking of asking her to marry me - she still has it, but
doesn't wear it. I've convinced her to pass it along to our first
grandchild, when or if one ever comes of age. For what its worth, I've
stipulated in my will that the watch go to Jarod after I'm gone.
"As his share, Jacob took my grandfather's compass and this necklace,
and then one day announced that he was going to put his share of the
heirlooms away for his children - or mine, if he had none." His face
clouded, then he continued, "You know that Jacob died without ever
having children. Well, when I received all of his property that he'd
put away in his safety deposit box after his death, I found what he'd
put away.
"Two years ago, I gave the compass to my son, Nicholas. I thought, at
the time, he needed something of his grandfather's - a piece of his
family's history to give us common bond from which to build a
relationship. As my son, it is what Jacob would have wanted. That
leaves..."
"Sydney," Miss Parker whispered, a tear spilling over onto her cheek.
"This should go to Michelle, she's..."
The older man shook his head slowly. "No. Remember that I told you
Jacob had always intended the heirlooms he'd kept to go to his
children or mine, not to a wife or lover. I owe it to him to continue
to abide by his wishes, especially when it comes to that which was his."
He slowly lifted his clear brown eyes to meet hers, a tender warmth
lighting them as if from behind. "You are as close as I will ever come
to having a daughter or niece, Parker, and God knows I'm as proud of you
as if you were my own. I want you to have it."
He lifted the sparkling necklace from the case and moved behind Miss
Parker, who stood too stunned to protest, reached around her and draped
the piece about her neck, then carefully fastened the clasp at the nape
of her neck. He moved back to face her and, with gentle fingers,
adjusted the pendant on its chain so that it hung straight on her
sweater. Those same gentle fingers then reached up to brush aside the
trickling tears before they dripped from her chin.
"This is the only thing of my mother's we managed to keep over the
years. I can even remember the last time my mother wore it," he said
with a soft look on his face. "It was a Christmas Eve affair, and she
was all in green velvet. My brother and I used to think that she
looked like a queen when she'd dress up and put it on." His expression
cleared, and he gazed at her warmly, taking in the sight of the necklace
laying softly against the powder-blue sweater. "She was slender, with
dark hair, much like you. I think, perhaps, that you would have liked
her, and she you. I know she would approve of your having her necklace.
It suits you."
"My God, Sydney, I don't know what to say," she managed finally, a hand
at her chest fingering the pendant in disbelief.
Sydney leaned forward and kissed Miss Parker very gently on the forehead.
"Just say 'Merry Christmas', Miss Parker," he said, a hand resting
lightly on each of her shoulders, "and then smile for me."
With a full heart, Miss Parker stretched up and brushed her lips against
his cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment,
feeling his hands move around her to give her a gentle, tentative hug.
When she pushed back away from him again, the smile she gave him was
heartfelt and very vulnerable. "Merry Christmas, Syd. I just wish I
had something to give you half as nice in return..."
Sydney gave her a gentle smile and brushed the remaining tear tracks
from her cheek with the backs of his fingers; then, while stepping back
from her before either of them descended any further into maudlin
sentimentalism, something caught his eye and gave him an idea. "Did you
ever learn to play chess, Miss Parker?" he asked, half-turning to
gesture at the set on the coffee table behind her.
Miss Parker rubbed at her nose quickly to try to banish any more
waterworks, stepping back herself just a bit and taking a deep breath to
let the unexpected emotions between them subside to a more comfortable
level. "Yes, but I haven't played in years," she admitted quietly, "not
since college."
"Perhaps can I talk you into a game?" Sydney's voice was hesitant, as
if preparing himself for a quick refusal, and yet eloquent in
expressing his wistful desire that she accept his invitation. "I
haven't played for several years either, not since Jarod escaped..."
When he saw her blink and actually pause to consider the invitation,
he quickly continued very frankly, "For what its worth, Miss Parker,
I've enjoyed your company tonight more than you'll ever know. And
I'll be honest and admit that I'm selfish enough that I'd rather the
evening not end quite yet."
"I've enjoyed our time too, Syd," Miss Parker admitted softly, knowing
she'd enjoyed her time more than she could even admit to herself. And
then there was the necklace... "I'm in no hurry to be alone again, and
a chess game would be a nice end to the day."
"Then maybe I should also mention that I have a perfectly suitable
guestroom that you can use tonight; and draw your attention to the fact
that if you stayed here, you wouldn't have to turn around and drive back
into town tomorrow to help cook our dinner. Besides," he paused with a
gently teasing look in his eye, "someone I'm very fond of reminded me
just this evening that the weather was going to turn nasty tonight and
tomorrow - and its already beginning to snow. I don't want to have to
worry about you getting home in one piece when you're driving tired late
at night in a snowstorm..."
Miss Parker heard the echoes of her own original argument in favor of
the Christmas dinner turned back on her, and she began to smile
inwardly. Her fingers toyed with the gems at her throat, and she gazed
thoughtfully at the silver-haired man who was patiently awaiting her
answer.
She wondered why she had ever allowed herself to be convinced that to
let him, or anyone else, get close would constitute disloyalty to her
father. Despite his being held firmly and often quite rudely at arm's
distance, Sydney had still proven a constant source of stability and
security in her life since she was very young. He too had played his
part in the lies and illusions of her life - but she generally
discovered later, he had usually done so either to protect her or to
keep a promise to another. And as she'd just been reminded only a
little while earlier, he had also been more than willing to make up
for those times when her "father" had failed her. He had been there
for her in the past, had been there all along, and was here for her
now.
Here was a connection to someone she could privately call her own, one
that nobody else had to know about. And all she had to do was reach
out and accept it.
What was she waiting for?
"I think I'd like that," she agreed hesitantly. As his smile widened,
she found herself feeling warmer, more cared for, than she had felt
in a very long time - and the hesitancy with which she'd agreed soon
evaporated in favor of an intuition that she'd made the right choice.
Obviously immensely pleased by her decision, Sydney gestured for her
to take her place on the couch while he pulled up one of the easy
chairs to face her across the chessboard and then stirred the fire
and added a new log to provide continued warmth into the evening. He
paused on his way back to his chair and thought for a moment, then
went over to a low cabinet. He withdrew two snifters and carefully
decanted some of his prized cognac into each, then carried them back
and handed Miss Parker one. "A toast, Miss Parker: to our being
holiday orphans no longer," he intoned, raising his glass to her.
"To newer and better holiday traditions for us both from now on," she
agreed, gently tapping her glass against his and joining him in taking
the first delicate sip of the mellow liquor. Then she set her snifter
on the table next to the chessboard and, patting the pendant on her
chest thoughtfully - still marveling at its presence there - pondered
her first move in this new game.
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