A/N: It feels like it's been a year since I've written Canon. I know it hasn't been… But I have missed it, regardless.
The Canon Series
It's been a dozen years since a mysterious stranger assumed the role of Laura Holt's fictitious boss. Remington and Laura are married, raising their children while running a thriving Agency. When a figure from Laura's past arrives, will her faith in the life she and Remington have built fall to tatters?
For the most effective reading, my work should be read in chronological order as many of my one off's are spun into the history of the characters later on down the line. The chronological order of what I've written to date are as follows:
Steele Torn & Trying to Holt On
Cannes Steele be Trusted (co-written with the super-talented SuzySteele)
Steele Forsaken
Steele Mending
Steele Working out the Details
Steele Settling In
Steele Finding Comfort
Steele Holting on To Christmas
Steele Holting on To The Holidays
Holting on to the Moments
Steele Cold Relief
Steele Cloned
Steele Hurdling Obstacles
Steeling the Big Apple
Steele Dying to Get it Right
Holting Steele - Part 1 of the Be Steele My Heart series
Be Steele My Heart – Part 2 of the Be Steele My Heart series
Steele Pursued – Part 1 of the Steele Tested series
Steele Tested – Part 2 of the Steele Tested series
Steele Thankful
Down the Rabbit Holt
Steele in Wonderland
Expanding Steele – Part 1 of the His Holt World Series
His Holt World – Part 2 of the His Holt World Series
Holting Back
Standard Disclaimers apply: I hold no ownership or rights to the series or characters. I simply choose to borrow the characters I love to write.
Prologue
July 4,1982
"Josh," the attractive, willowy brunette called to her husband, "A little help here would be awesome."
"I gotta get the stroller then I'll be right there, Barbie," he called back.
"Stroller?" she questioned as she grabbed the arm of her three-year-old daughter before the child could dart for the beach without them. "Lynnee, not yet," she scolded, enunciating the last word. "Wait for us to get Katie and Bubby from the van then we'll go down together." The little girl stuck out a lip, unhappily, but did as she was told. "We don't need the stroller, Josh," she resumed the shouting conversation with her husband, who was still rummaging through their battered, old Volkswagen Beetle van. The couple could have afforded a new vehicle years ago, but neither was willing to relinquish the memories they'd created in that van as they'd indulged in the Hippie scenes of Haight-Asbury and San Francisco. "We can't push the stroller in the sand, Joshy will weigh it down to much."
"What will he use for nap then?" he questioned, poking his head into sight. She took a moment to admire her husband's Adonis like looks: Tall, broad, blonde and golden tan. It's no wonder we have three kids, she mused.
"If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't believe you'd ever followed the wind wherever it took you," she teased. "We'll lay him on a blanket under the umbrella. He's barely six-months-old, so it's not as if he's gonna run off," she reminded. Grunting his agreement, his head disappeared again.
"Cooler, diaper bag, towels, blanket…" he ticked off as he dropped the items in the large-wheeled wagon.
"My bag, sand toys for the girls," she added as she removed one-year-old Katie from the van. "Lynnee, hold your sister's hand please."
"I wanna go play," Lynnee whined.
"Not until we're all ready. Now take your sister's hand," Barbie ordered, her growing exasperation with the three-year-old threading through her voice.
That little lip protruded further and was accompanied by a scowl, but once again, she obeyed. Where did my happy girl go? Barb wondered. They'd sailed through the alleged terrible two's, her little 'mini me's' sunny disposition never wavering. Then, BAM! – two months ago a surly doppelganger had take her daughter's place. "No," "I don't wanna," and "I don't like," were Lynnee's favored words, and stomps of the feet, protruding lip and epic tantrums had become the new norm. Barb rubbed at her neck. If Lynnee persisted in her current mood, it would ruin the day for them all.
"Ready?" Josh asked from where he now stood next to her, wagon handle grasped in his hand. She shook herself from her thoughts.
"Let me grab Joshy."
The fivesome had barely stepped upon the sand when Lynnee dropped her sister's hand and began to run towards the water.
"Lynn Marie Jefferson," Barb called in her best, no-nonsense mom voice, "Stop where you are and come back here!" Lynnee stopped then turned around, crossing her arms, that same frown and protruding lip remaining in full bloom.
"I don't wanna!" There was the familiar stomp of the foot. "I wanna swim!"
Catching his wife's eye, Josh nodded his head towards the lifeguard stand where a wood plaque announced 'Riptide. Swim at your own risk.' Barb's shoulders slumped in dismay. Perfect. They'd do no more than dip their toes in the water on this day, something guaranteed to set off their petulant progeny.
"Either come back and take your sister's hand, or we'll all go back to the van and leave," Barb warned. Lynnee pulled her lower lip into her mouth and stomped back to her sister, grabbing her hand roughly.
"No, no, Lynnee," twenty-three-month old Katie protested the manhandling.
"Come on," Lynnee barked, tugging her sister forward.
Barb's earlier amusement at how Josh and she had come to be the parents of three evaporated, as she slipped into a melancholy mood.
How did we get here? She questioned for the thousandth time since Joshy was born.
She and Joshua had met in August of '69, at Woodstock, of all places – although she doubted anyone would believe that now. She had been a twenty-four-year-old secretary, exhausted by the confines of her utterly pedantic life of secretary by day, wanna-be flower child by night. Oh, she'd longed for a life where she would wander at will, relying on a stroke of fate and the community to see her most basic needs met. She'd wanted sunshine and sand…
And above all else, she'd wanted to be… free.
Unmarried, unencumbered by children, her life was hers to live… if only she hadn't been so afraid. Then, while thoroughly stoned on some righteous weed, she'd met Josh.
Twenty-six-years-old, and equally free of anything except the constraints he placed on himself, the Harvard trained financial advisor was as weary as she with his life. They'd toked on joints, drank and talked all through the night, then the next day, sharing with one another the dreams all the people around them seemed to find absurd.
By the conclusion of the fourth day, they'd resolved to make those dreams a reality…
And they had.
They'd quit their jobs the next day, had pooled their savings, then had used a fair amount of those funds to a new van. They'd hit the road towards California, seeing the country as they drove.
For eight years, they'd lived as nomads, pandering on the streets here, living in a commune there. They' been part of the 'culture,' living it, breathing it, up and down the coast of California. They'd visited Mexico on more than one occasion, packing the compartments of the van with enough weed to keep the commune stone for two months…
Then they'd taken another trip and reloaded.
A smile played on her lips. They'd even made it to Hawaii on one occasion, sleeping on the beach of a night. It had been a truly good life, one without demands – other than the ones they'd chosen.
Then, they'd both heard it: That tick-tick-tick of time, of her biological clock. She was thirty-two, nearly thirty-three, and if they wanted children – and they did – time was running short. The decision to go forth and multiply had ended their freedom, for their aimless wanderings… or the commune… was no life for a child, at least in their eyes.
It had been time to grow up.
It had taken no time, with his pedigree, to secure another financial advising position. She'd spent two years studying interior design. Then, at thirty-five, she'd had Lynnee, Katie and Joshy had arriving in rapid succession. Thus, at thirty-eight and forty-years-old, respectively, she and Josh had found themselves with three children under four and living the lines of upwardly mobile professionals: A respectable home in Santa Monica, both working professional jobs and raising a family. All they needed was a cat and a dog to become the prototypical nuclear family.
Everything they'd once rejected, they now were.
She'd been delirious with joy when Lynnee was born. She'd come into the world squalling, her tiny hands fisted, arms flailing. She and Josh had listened for months as friends and seasoned parents forewarned of the months of sleepless nights ahead; of colic and constipation; of the endless hours of screaming that accompanied teething. Not a single one of those things had come to fruition. Not with Lynnee. She had been the perfect baby.
An anomaly, their friends had forewarned. Was it? They'd pondered that thought constantly after discovering when Lynnee was four-months-old that number two was on the way. If their sweet daughter had been an outlier from the infant norm, then they'd twice been the exception to the rule, for when Katie had come along, they'd found her to be the most content of babies, perfectly happy to coo while observing the world around her.
Their perfect little family had been created. Two. The magic number. For fourteen months, they'd lived in utter bliss. It had taken a trip to the past to turn their perfect world upside down. A Grateful Dead concert with old friends. A little hash. A whole lot of pot. All of it followed by too much alcohol…
A diaphragm forgotten.
And number three was on the way, upsetting the perfect balance they'd managed to achieve. At least, that was how Barb had seen it. Unlike her prior two pregnancies, Joshy's had taken a toll. By the time he arrived, she'd been exhausted for months and her emotions were thoroughly frayed. The 'baby blues,' her mother liked to call it.
Barb had another name for whatever had sank its claws into her psyche: Hell.
Their lucky streak had ended with Joshy. From the beginning, he'd sleep for only a few hours at a time. He'd refused the breast. He'd eat, only to regurgitate half his stomach contents at a time. He was often in pain, drawing up his legs to a hardened tummy, his tiny fists pumping at the air. He'd been just shy of five-months-old when he'd been diagnosed with reflux and was prescribed medication. And since? He'd become a different child.
And Barb had begun to feel more like herself again. She could only hope her months of struggle hadn't been felt too keenly by the children.
Although Lynnee's newfound, sullen disposition had made her question if it had.
"Hon, is this good?" Josh's question drew her from her thoughts and she scanned the area around them: Not too close to the water and not too far. The area gave them some breathing space – not much, but some – from those around them.
"It's perfect," she replied. She waited until he spread out the blanket then sat Joshy upon it, so she could help unload the wagon and set up 'camp'.
"What is it?" she inquired, when Josh smacked a palm against his forehead.
"I forgot the umbrella," he sighed. "I'll be right back." With that she watched him jog away. Almost immediately, Katie began to whine and tug at Barb's cover up.
"Juice!" she insisted. Barb nodded her head and fished a cup from her bag, along with a container of juice from the cooler.
"I wanna go swim!" Lynnee demanded.
"Not right now, Lynnee. Maybe in a little while." She refocused on Katie. "Katie, have a seat on the—"
"I wanna go swim!" Lynnee screeched, loud enough to draw several pairs of eyes to them.
"I said maybe in a little while," Barb repeated through clenched teeth, with a patently false smile plastered on her face for the benefit of those watching. "Katie, sit down. Here's—"
"I wanna go swim!" Lynnee wailed, stomping her feet as her eyes welled up and she prepared to pitch a full blown fit. Why can't she save these for Josh? Barb silently lamented. Face infusing with color as the scene drew more spectators, out of desperation she grabbed a pail and shovel, shoving them at her oldest daughter.
"Go play," she ordered. "Stay where I can see you and don't go near the water."
Sniffling, Lynnee shuffled away, plopping down on the sand some twenty feet from the water under Barb's watchful eyes. Satisfied Lynnee was occupied for now, Barb turned her attention back to her two youngest children while setting out the family's lunch.
"Where's Lynnee?" Josh asked upon his return. Looking up, Barb pointed to where their three-year-old was filling her pail with sand.
"Josh, I swear, there are days I don't know how much more I can take of her tantrums. Why doesn't she ever act this way with you?" she asked, voicing aloud her earlier thought, honestly not expecting a reply. "Lynnee, time for lunch," she called.
The still put-out child turned to scowl at her mother.
"Let her play," Josh advised. "She'll eat when she's hungry." With a huff of irritation, Barb tossed Lynnee's sandwich back into the cooler.
"You're too easy on her," she accused. "A little support for me would be nice."
"It's nothing more than a phase, hon," he countered. "It will run its course and then she'll be her normal, happy self." Barb shook her head. He'd missed her point completely, but she chose to let it go rather than spoil their day.
When their lunch was nearly complete, Katie had begun to visually squirm where she sat.
"Potty," she pled.
"Can you take her while I give Joshy his bottle?" Barb requested.
"Sure," he agreed, getting to his feet. "Why don't I grab us some ice cream while I'm at it? Want me to take Lynnee?"
"That sounds good," Barb agreed, but couldn't help adding, "Weren't you the one who said she'd come when she was hungry?"
"Vanilla or chocolate?" he questioned, choosing not to take the bait.
"Chocolate."
As Josh walked away, Barb turned her attention to the baby. There was no 'just' giving Joshy a bottle, as first he had to have his meds. Then there were the breaks between each ounce, to allow his belly to rest. By the time the bottle was finished, thanks to the slight sedative effect of the medication (that she didn't particularly care for) Joshy would fall sound to sleep.
Her eyes flickered to Lynnee where the child continued to play in the sand, back to her mother. Medication given, she cradled Joshy in her lap and eased the nipple between his lips.
Would Lynnee's fits subside? Was it just a phase? Or had her own struggles with those so-called 'baby blues' damaged her child in some way? The thought that might be the case left guilt washing over her.
She missed the little girl Lynnee had been only a couple, short months ago. The child who spun in circles until she'd topple to the ground. The child who frequently danced around the living room with abandon, dancing for no other reason than she was joyous. The child who roamed the house singing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' and who loved to make her younger siblings laugh.
Had she, Barb, said 'keep it down' or snapped 'not right now' one time too many? Had Lynnee felt isolated unappreciated, alone, a nuisance? That was her greatest fear. An unspoken one she was terrified if she voiced to Josh, he'd turn an accusatory eye on her and tell her she'd irrevocably broken their daughter in some way. The thought of that made her stomach flip-flop.
Glancing down, she saw Joshy had fallen asleep, his bottle nearly empty. Slowly, carefully, she lay the baby down on the blanket then angled the umbrella to shade him.
"One chocolate cone," Josh announced waving the cold, sweet treat under his wife's nose. Smiling up at him, she took the offered cone.
"Thanks," she replied, as she noted the ice cream dripping down her youngest daughter's fingers. Licking her own cone before it, too, could drip, she called Katie over to her. "Come here, let's get you cleaned up a little." Katie began to prepared to wail, then calmed when she realized her mother wasn't going to take the ice cream from her, but would work around it.
"I got Lynnee vanilla," Josh informed Barb, as he eyes roamed the beach. "Where is she?"
"You took her with you," she replied, with a smile. His teasing nature had always been one of his biggest draws for her. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"
"What are you talking about? You told me to leave her with you." Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, alarm bells were beginning to sound. She refused to acknowledge them.
"I get it. A little hide-n-seek with Mom?"
"Barb!" Josh barked her name with finality. "I didn't take her with me. I offered."
"And I said sound's good," she shot back. Those bells grew louder, clacked harsher. A trickle of fear raced up her spine, goosebumps spreading across her skin.
"To the ice cream!" he retorted. "You reminded me I'd said she'd join us when she was hungry!"
Barb spun around on her knees, eyes falling on the abandoned pail and shovel in the sand. No. No-no-no-no-no.
"You took her," she insisted, lunging to her feet. "You took her with you," she repeated, her voice growing shrill.
The memory of Lynnee's back to her paraded across her mind. She took two quick steps forward, spun, searched the mobs of people.
"She couldn't have gone far, she couldn't have," she babbled, not believing it herself. How many times had she people said a child can disappear in the blink of an eye, if something caught their imaginations. No. No-no-no-no-no. "You were only gone a minute."
"I was gone at least twenty," he contradicted. "Are you telling me you haven't seen her in twenty minutes?" he demanded to know, grasping her shoulders. She pulled away from him and twirled around.
"I looked. I looked. She was there. Playing with her back to me." Joshy's bottle. She'd checked on Lynnee as she gave the baby his medicine. Had she looked in on her daughter again since? Oh god. Lynnee-Lynnee-Lynnee. The scream was ripped from her throat. "Lynn-ee!"
She ran ten feet to the south then twenty to the north, then to the sand pail, screaming her daughter's name. Scooping up the pail, she cradled it in her arms and ran to the group of two women and two men, seating on towels close to the blanket where Katie sat and Joshy slept.
"Please, can you watch the children?" she begged. "My daughter's run off." She didn't wait for a reply, whirling away and running down the beach.
"Lynnee! Lynn-ee!" she called. "It's time to stop hiding. You've won the game… Lynnee!" Where-are-you-Where-are-you-Where-are-you.
She looked up, blindly, when a hand grabbed her arm
"You don't think she—" Josh's eyes flickered towards the waves, unable to complete the thought. Her eyes followed his to the water.
"No. No! She wouldn't have!" she denied. Would she? "We told her not to." And idea came to her and her face lit with hope. "The bathroom. Maybe she had to go…" He released her arms, abruptly.
"I'll go check and I'll notify the lifeguard on my way." He ran in the direction of the lifeguard stand. She didn't watch his departure, turning and running down the beach again.
"Please," she begged at the first group of people she came upon, "Have you seen my daughter? She's three-years-old, about this tall…" she indicated with her hand "…and wearing a red swimsuit with ruffles on its bottom."
All heads shook in the negative. She ran to the next group, while yelling her daughter's name.
She stumbled to a stop, addressing the people.
"Please, have you seen my daughter? Her name's Lynnee and she's three-years-old…"
LA Times
July 6, 1982
CHILD DROWNS ON FOURTH OF JULY
Tragedy struck on the birthday of our country when three-year-old Lynn Marie Jefferson drowned after being caught in the rip currents prevalent along the shores of Santa Monica over the holiday.
Her devastated parents, Joshua and Barbara Jefferson, had briefly taken their eyes off the child when she wandered off…