May 2019 in the Morgan household above Abe's Antiques ...

Nora's letters - mostly bills from the scheming old Dr. Barton and from private detectives who'd falsely claimed to have tracked Henry to different parts of the world - had all been read. Her last few diary entries, however, were almost too painful for any of them to read. But they did read them. For some strange reason, they felt they owed it to the long dead woman. After all, she had unknowingly bared her life to them through her private thoughts; and most people never intend for anyone else to see the contents of their diary. Her last few entries had clearly manifested from the dark desolation she felt.

In the beginning of her incarceration, she was quite literate and her handwriting quite strong, But her increasing desperation had weakened her handwriting along with her spirit only a few months later.

July 8th, 1865

"I have no friends anymore. None but my Henry. He visits me but I am too ashamed to face him. Even my son, Albert, refuses to see me. Ashamed of me, he is. Ashamed of myself for ending that young woman's life. How was I to know that she would care so much for my Henry that she would step in front of him and take the bullet meant for him? The bullet meant to kill him and prove to the world that he had conquered death. Instead, she, poor Anna Peyton, succumbed to death - at my hand.

In this most horrid twist of fate, my days are now numbered in this dank cell like the one my Henry had inhabited decades ago also at my hand. My Lord! So much to beg forgiveness for! So much wrong done to others by me. I was not born a cruel person, was not taught to be a cruel person and yet - and yet - others have suffered from my cruel obsessions."

July 9th 1865

"George Smythe, my solicitor, has sold my bed, carpets, knives, forks, and some little thing for £213 to pay for my legal costs for I am to be charged with Anna Peyton's murder. He states that he finds himself out of his depth. What am I to do? Has my estate dwindled so as to need to sell my belongings? Had Albert been raised with more attention, more loving, he would be here for me. If his brother were alive, he would help me.

I drink from the deepest well of shame now that tells me not to accept any more help from my Henry. Oh! My Henry. How absurd. He is mine only in my heart for he has long ago turned his heart away from me to young beauties like Anna. I suppose he always will in his long future.

If only things could be changed - corrected. So many things that have led me to this dark place of longings and regrets."

"Okay, that's enough," Abe said, waving both hands as if warding off evil spirits. "Can't listen to any more of that. She's gone. Rest in peace, Nora," he said with finality.

"Or in whatever peace she could find," Henry murmured.

"It's like that for a few more entries til the last one the day before she was ... " Jo's quiet voice trailed off not wishing to say the obvious and neither Henry nor Abe wishing to hear it. She closed the diary and sighed, shaking her head and sniffling. "Such a pretty cover for such a sad book, Henry."

"Time for a change of subject," Abe announced, "to clear our minds a bit."

Jo laid the diary on the coffee table and rested her arms on top of her personal shelf (baby bump). "Not so quick," she told Abe. "Henry, you said that you never knew about your older brother's marriage."

"Sad to say but, that's correct," he replied.

"Aren't you even curious to find out who this Jane woman was that he married in secret?" she asked him. "And why?"

It had crossed his mind more than once but before he could reply, Abe interrupted with the news that he already knew. "Indeed?" Henry asked. "Well, who was she and why did they marry in secret?"

Abe chuckled. "She was the enemy." Satisfied that he had his parents' full attention, he continued. "Her real name was Jeanne. Jeanne Vernier."

"She was French," Henry gasped. "How in the world did he ... even have time to court a woman across enemy lines, let alone meet one?" he asked, chuckling.

"What would have happened if anyone had known about her?" Jo asked.

"My brother would have been charged with consorting with the enemy and both of them would have been hanged," Henry replied.

"No firing squad for him?" Abe asked. "Just curious," he said with a shrug.

"We were at war with France and Spain at the time they were married," Henry explained, "and ammunition couldn't have been spared for an execution."

"How did you find out?" Jo asked Abe.

"Trade secret," Abe jokingly but proudly replied. "Thinking of expanding my business enterprise. Abe's Antiques and Family Research."

"Seems that family research results in a story longer than mine," Henry joked.

"And it looks like that story is going to get even longer real quick," Jo told them. She then took in a deep breath as she stared straight ahead, her eyes getting wider and wider. Her hands rested on either side of her belly of seven months' roundness.

Abe jumped up from his chair and hurried to Jo's side. Henry turned to her and placed his hand on her belly in between her hands. "Are you sure, Jo? You're in labor?"

"It's, it's too soon, though," Abe stammered out worriedly.

"Pretty sure," she replied. "Ooo ... yeah ... yeah. That was definitely another contraction."

"Another?" Henry asked, startled. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Well, this is my first child, Henry. I thought it was just gas."

"Let's get you to the hospital right away. Can you make it down the stairs?" Henry asked.

Jo shook her head and settled back on the settee. "No. No. Not gonna even try." She was afraid. It was only seven months, not nine. What had she done wrong? she asked herself. "Oh! This one is stronger."

Abe was on the phone with the 9-1-1 Operator explaining the emergency and urging them to hurry. The fact that his father was a doctor did little to calm his nerves. After all, Dad wasn't a pediatrician and it had been more than a century since he'd delivered a baby.

Henry urged Jo to stay calm even though she was and he was the one hyperventilating. They all breathed a sigh of relief when the paramedics arrived and expertly but gingerly brought Jo down the stairs on a gurney and into the ambulance. There wasn't enough room in the ambulance for Henry to ride with her so he and Abe followed in Abe's car, worried but excited at the same time. The baby was apparently disregarding everyone else's timetable and, unlike his centuries-old brother before him, was demanding to be known to the world.

Once they arrived at the hospital, the attending staff rushed Jo into the delivery room while she worked to remain calm and remember her Lamaze training. Henry, on the other hand, had no thoughts of that on his mind. Only the well-being of his wife and unborn child. He knew he was a mess and not much help but insisted on being in the delivery room with Jo.

vvvv

Nine hours later in the ER waiting room ...

Abe woke from a long nap to find his father seated next to him looking haggard and worried. He quickly straightened himself back up into a sitting position and put his arm around his father's shoulders. "What ... what's going on, Henry? How are Jo and the baby?"

Henry turned a weary face to him and replied, "Jo's fine. She, she's fine. Resting." He slowly stood up as if pained from each movement and nervously rubbed his palms on his pants. "The baby ... " He paused to take in a deep breath and release it.

Abe shot up from his seat. "What is it? Something wrong with the baby."

Henry nodded, attempting but failing a smile. He wanted to present a stronger front for his son. Didn't want him to worry. But he felt so wearied from worry even though his heart was pounding out of his chest. "The baby's fighting to stay alive but ... the doctors say that ... " At that point, he couldn't continue, his face crumpling into grief as he slowly lowered himself back down into the chair.

Abe sat back down next to him with his arm around his shoulders. He held the young-ish father close to him, rubbing his back and allowing him to release his tears onto his shoulder. "We ... gotta think that the little guy will pull through, Henry." Even in this dire time, he remembered to address his father with his given name in public.

"We gotta think positive," Abe urged him.

"He hasn't even cried, Abe," Henry lamented. "Hasn't uttered one sound. His, his lungs still ... undeveloped, the doctor says." Henry now sat up blinking back tears and wiping them from his face. "You're right. We, we must think positive." Sighing deeply, he rose from his seat once again. "I came out to let you know what was happening but I must get back to Jo now." When Abe didn't respond and appeared to be astonished by something, Henry asked him what was wrong.

"I'm not sure," Abe drew out.

His eyes narrowed then widened in wonder as he looked down the short hallway at the locked double doors leading to the delivery and recovery rooms. Henry followed his gaze and they both stared in wonder at two young men in 19th century period dress. One of them with hazel eyes bore a striking resemblance to Henry. Henry's breath caught in his throat for he knew, felt, who the young men were. He swallowed and took one step toward them when the hazel-eyed young man raised a hand indicating for him not to approach.

"You're ... my son," Henry whispered.

"Hello, father," Henry II greeted him, smiling.

As astonishing as it was, the Immortal knew it was true. Standing before him was his and Nora's son from long ago. "But how is this possible?" he asked.

Henry II merely smiled, shaking his head. "The important thing is that we are here." He looked to his left at his companion and back at Henry. "We're here to help."

Henry looked for the first time, really looked, at the other young man. Instantly, he knew who he was, as well. "You're Albert." The young man dipped his head and Henry could see a guarded hesitancy in his eyes. "I, I don't understand. The two of you are here to help? How?"

"Little Lorenzo is in distress and might not survive," Henry II replied simply. "He is in need of a boost to his life force and we have been granted special permission to do just that."

An elated and astonished Henry and Abe looked at each other then back at the two young men. "You're going to provide that special boost?" Henry asked.

"Actually, not I, Sir," Henry II replied. He dipped his head to the side toward his companion. "My friend here. You see ... father ... although I'm sure that you would have been an excellent father to me, rest assured that I did enjoy a good life being raised as a Halvern," Henry II explained. "On the other hand, my friend here - "

" - grew up rather lacking when it came to having a father figure," Albert finished for him. "Even though I now know that I am not your son ... I would be very much honored to be. That is ... it's a second chance for me, at least. If you will allow me to join my life force with that of Little Lorenzo ... "

"He can live," Henry whispered in wondrous realization.

Albert then smiled at Abe and said, "It would be smashing to have a big brother teach me how to play that, uh, jazz music on the piano."

"You got it, buddy," Abe told him, grinning. He nudged his father.

"Yes, yes! By all means, go. Go to him, please," Henry urged Albert, his unshed tears shaking his voice.

Albert grinned broadly and disappeared into the locked door.

"Did, did you see that?" an astounded Abe asked.

"Remarkable," Henry breathed out, smiling. The high-pitched wail of a newborn hit their ears from behind the locked doors. They looked at each other then turned to Henry II but he was nowhere to be seen. "Utterly remarkable," Henry repeated.

Abe pressed the buzzer on the side of the locked double doors and excitedly urged his father to "Go see your son, Henry!"

vvvv

During the months between their return from England and the birth of little Lorenzo Morgan, life for the Morgan family and their friends in New York resumed on a high note. Thankfully, the Immortal ME continued to be "extra careful" in order to keep down the stress level of his wife and mother of their infant son.

Abe and Fawn were spending more and more time together. His parents and her children and grandchildren felt that any day he would pop the question to her. Both of them felt the expectancy from their loved ones and friends concerning their relationship but didn't want to succumb to outside pressure just to please them. They both decided that when the time was right, they would both know it.

Lucas and Cynthia, on the other hand, spent as much time together as possible for a couple involved in a long-distance relationship. At their young ages, though, they felt they had more time than Abe and Fawn did and were content for now to enjoy their times together and let tomorrow take care of itself. And as much as he admired his very learned boss of the eternal bent, he was in no hurry to tie the knot with the lovely Cynthia even if that delayed him becoming an official member of the Morgan clan.

Cynthia's brother, the former "Lord" Henry, had slowly begun to realize that he was mistaken when he'd once told her that longtime friend, Betty Broussard, had never loved him but had merely pitied him all the years of his illness. But buoyed by the urgings of both his sister and Uncle Reggie, he had begun to re-think his views on that subject and to vigorously pursue a relationship with her. It was going to be an uphill climb, he knew, since she had given up on waiting for him many months ago and was now being courted by a wealthy, widowed Marquess. An older man in his late 40s as refined and monied as he was, and with a tad more dap in his debonair.

He was up for the challenge, though, to win back the heart of the lovely lady. However, after recently taking high tea with her, contrite, nervous, and with a set of highly-rehearsed pleas as part of his verbal arsenal of love, he happily and gratefully breathed a sigh of relief when she forgave him for his past rebuff of her, saying that she understood why. For that reason, she also suggested that they wipe the slate clean and meet halfway in their new "awareness" of each other. Okay, he told himself resignedly, not characterized as a relationship but ... promising. He was going to have to earn his way back in with her and he looked forward to it.

vvvv

"Okay, one last thing, Henry," Jo began after laying little Lorenzo down in his crib for the night. "Where are the portraits Cousins Henry and Cynthia brought to you?"

"Mmm, they're actually my - "

"Easier to call them Cousins instead of all that great-great grand stuff," Jo chuckled.

"You didn't torch 'em, did you, Pops?" Abe jokingly asked.

"Of course not, Abraham," Henry replied, frowning. "They're very valuable, irreplaceable, and - alright," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "They do have more than sentimental value for me."

"Well, where'd you stash 'em?" Abe asked.

"They're in our storage unit," Henry informed them. The same storage unit now cleared of most of the documentation and paper clues he'd compiled at one time after Abigail's disappearance. "In perfect condition."

There was a cry from the baby's room and Jo left to tend to him. Abe watched her disappear down the hall and into his room before asking his father if he had told her about their recent visitors from the other side.

"Yes, I did," Henry replied, smiling.

A surprised Abe bobbed his head up and down. "I'm impressed. No more secrets, eh, Pops?"

"No more secrets, Abraham," Henry concurred. "I don't want anything to mar this wonderful life with yet another most remarkable woman."

Notes:

Bones of Nora's last few diary entries while in prison in the mid to late 1860s inspired by the last desperate letters of 19th century mass-poisoner, Mary Ann Colton aka the Black Widow before she was hanged in 1873.

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Slight references to "Forever" TV show episodes

S01/E11 "The Ecstacy of Agony"

S01/E17 "Social Engineering"

S01/E19 "Punk Is Dead"

S01/E20 "Best Foot Forward"

S01/E21 "The Night in Question"