July 23, 2017

Kate Beckett was 19 when her mom died, I was a month shy of my 19th birthday when I lost my dad. Frankly, I was lucky to have him as long as I did. Maybe that's why this is my favorite chapter, not only do we get to know Jim Beckett better (I love writing him, by the way, but there's a strong daddy theme throughout.

Only three more chapter, folks!


SITTING IN A TREE, BACKWARDS

Part III


Between Storms: Fatherhood

CHAPTER ELEVEN


All was silent and still at Kensington Manor. Hannah was tucked into her bed upstairs while Jim Beckett prowled the front of the house, staring out the window at the soft, white blanket on the ground that grew steadily deeper. The clouds glowed nearly as bright as day, a stark contrast to the distant tree branches, dark and bare against the sky.

He glanced at his watch and sighed. At least another thirty minutes before Rick arrived, assuming Katie's intelligence was correct.

A lone car ambled along the highway, but neither slowed nor turned into the drive. In a moment it disappeared around a bend.

Might as well shovel off the sidewalk and steps before…. Jim pulled his coat out of the closet, thrusting his arms in before fastening it to his throat.

Another set of headlights appeared in the distance, speeding through the night, before slowing at the turn. If Rick were already here, then it was lucky he wasn't in an accident. Jim grimaced and reached for his phone as a silver sedan emerged behind the headlights.

He's here, he texted Kate.

Her reply was immediate.

T Y

As the BMW rolled to a stop, he slid the phone back into his pocket and stepped away from the window. His eyes wandered around the room, as if looking for help, then slid closed. He stood, hand on the door knob for a long moment. Opening his eyes again, he faced the carved wooden door, debating whether to walk down to meet him in the driveway. Less awkwardness is better, he decided. He waited in the dimly lit foyer, for movement through the faceted glass window of the door.

Rick got out of the car wearing sunglasses. Jim slipped out the door, as he approached, closing it firmly behind him. The porch's deep roof kept it free of snow, and Jim bent over to light a fire in the terracotta chimney.

Keeping his voice neutral, he called out, "Evening, Rick, Have a seat." Jim gestured to the swing, watching and hoping Rick would follow his lead.

Rick paused at the top of the steps, looking over at Kate's father, who gestured at a chair beside his swing. "I'm here to see my daughter," he said.

Jim nodded. "You will, but let's talk for a minute, first."

The corner of Rick's mouth curled downward, and his jaw was set as he headed directly for the door. Jim rushed to block his access, grabbing his arm. "Now, hold—Unnnhhh!"

Rick's fist landed squarely on Jim's mandible. He grunted and toppled, landing on his backside. He sat up, wincing.

"Ow," he muttered under his breath, holding his jaw and glaring at Rick's knees. He drew in several deep breaths, and glared at his son-in-law. Rick looked taken aback, as though he couldn't quite believe he'd punched Kate's father.

Various legal repercussions flitted through his thoughts. He thought of Hannah and dismissed them. "Are you through?" Jim snapped.

"I…." Rick swallowed, flustered. He offered him a hand. "Sorry about that."

Jim looked at his hand, sighed, and accepted it as the peace offering it was, and allowed the younger man to help him up.

For a moment, the two stared at each other. Finally, Jim blew out a breath. "You're entitled to be angry, Rick."

"You're damned right I—"

Jim held up a hand to stop him. "Right now, that little girl doesn't know anything about having a father, and if you burst in there in anger, you will forever damage her concept of family relationships." Glaring at his own reflection in Rick's sunglasses was irritating Jim irrationally, and he had difficulty keeping his voice calm. "Hannah Joy knows nothing about this right now, and we're going to keep it that way, for tonight."

The hell we will," Rick growled.

"We're going to keep it that way, because that's what's best for her."

Rick glared at Jim without speaking.

"Your history with her mother comes second to her well-being. Once you're calm, and we've talked, I won't keep you from her."

Rick rocked back on his heels. "Fine," he answered, then turned away, striding to the porch railing. The chilly breeze ruffled his hair.

The swing creaked as Jim sighed and lowered himself to sit. Neither spoke.

"You wanted to talk, so talk," Rick tossed the words over his shoulder, as he looked over the circular drive.

Jim took a deep breath. "It's Katie who owes you the lion's share of the explanation, but I'm speaking as Hannah's guardian now—"

"That can be changed." Rick turned toward him then, his face lacked its usual warmth.

"What's that?" Jim asked.

Rick's voice was silky soft. "Just because you and Kate have guardianship now doesn't mean you always will." An occasional snowflake found its way under the patio rooftop to land in Rick's hair. "Paternity suites work both ways."

Jim's shoulders tightened and he lifted his head to assess his son-in-law. "Is that what you'll do? Take Hannah from the only family she knows?"

"Fathers have rights, too," Rick bit out. He turned away again, staring out at the snowy night.

Jim let his words hang in the stillness before answering. "If your goal is revenge against Katie that would be an effective place to begin." His voice was low and matter of fact. "But, if this goes into litigation, everyone loses, especially Hannah. Believe me, I've seen it." He gripped his knees tightly, willing to keep his voice even. "Think of what's best for her."

"Yes, what is best for Hannah?" Rick rounded on him. "I don't know what you and Kate were thinking when you deprived her of relationships with people who would've loved her, cared for—"

"You are entirely correct. Katie should've come to you in the beginning. You should've been part of Hannah Joy's life from day one."

"I…" Rick's shoulders slumped and he yanked his sunglasses off, rubbing his eyes.

"It was a mistake, a huge mistake perhaps, and we will progress to rectifying that. But, tonight, you and I will focus on what Hannah needs. And that isn't a war between her parents."

Rick drew in several deep breaths. His face was still flushed from cold and emotion, but he seemed calmer.

"She's never had a father, so she's never missed having one, but she loves you, Rick. She's excited about your family being part of hers. She loved spending time with you this weekend. I hope you'll stay a couple of days and spend as much time as possible with her.

"When the time is right, when things are stable between you and her mother, then it'll be time to tell her. But that's a decision the three of us will make together."

Rick stepped closer, shoving his sunglasses into his coat pocket.

"Can you agree to that?"

Rick gave a stiff nod. "For now."

Jim nodded slowly and let a breath out, meeting Rick's eyes. His face was solemn as he read the emotions on Rick's face.

"For my part," Jim said softly, "I never knew Hannah was yours until last summer. Kate told me, wondering how to proceed since you were dating your ex-wife. Mable, her grandmother, heard, and tried to force Katie into action by changing her will." Mable…" Jim said carefully, "never could accept that her precious granddaughter was an unwed mother. When she realized Katie in fact knew Hannah's father…."

Without a word, Rick stalked past him and went inside.

His brow furrowed, Jim stared at the floorboards, and shook his head. He'd expected anger, even rage. He hadn't expected the devastation hidden behind sunglasses. He rubbed his jaw again where Rick had punched him, wondering whether to report the conversation to Katie. He sighed deeply. No, better to stay out of it. Let them patch it up as best they can.

"Ahh, Katie," he whispered. "You've dug yourself a deep one."


The carpeted stairs muffled Rick's heavy tread. He paused at the landing, standing with his head bowed for a long moment. She was asleep, she had to be asleep by now. It didn't matter whether she slept through his visit or not. He had to be there, had to watch her sleep, to look into the face of the child he and Kate brought into the world, to claim her as his father had never claimed him.

Kate—his rage reared its head and he pushed her firmly out of his thoughts. He would keep his anger with Hannah's mother separate for now. While he was with Hannah, he'd be a loving father. The angry husband would reappear later.

He continued up the steps but hesitated outside her door. Carefully, he eased it open. A rectangle of light fell across the soft gray carpet, a guiding arrow pointing to where Hannah lay, curled in bed.

Still wearing his long, wool coat, he moved to her bedside, stepping around various toys as he did. The moon was just disappearing below the horizon now, the darkness accentuating tiny pinpricks of light glowing from the walls, Glow-in-the-dark-stickers, were carefully arranged in constellations, recreating the night sky. Kate did that for her, he remembered, before pushing her out of his thoughts again.

Hannah Joy lay with her face tilted toward Rick, one hand curled underneath her cheek, the other was bunched around the sheets. Her long dark hair spilled over the pillow, further reminding him of her mother. She was so much like Kate, except where she wasn't. Dimples, that adorable dimpled smile was so much like Alexis's and his own. And… Hannah performing magic tricks. She had stage presence. A true granddaughter of Martha Rodgers.

He knelt beside her bed, staring at his child, tears sliding over his cheeks and falling silently onto the sheet beside his sleeping daughter. He dropped his gloves on the carpet, carefully curving his arm around her pillow to lift a tendril of dark hair, wrapping it around his finger. Bands tightened around his chest. For six and a half years, his little girl was fatherless, like him. Never again. Hannah Joy would never again wonder about her father. She'd never need to.

The moments ticked away and still, Rick guarded her sleep. There was no sound from below. Gradually the warmth seeped into Rick's bones. His knees began to ache from kneeling on the carpet, Drowsiness settled over him. A quiet twitter came from the covered bird cage and then was silent. He pillowed his head on the sleeve of his over coat, the other still wrapped around Hannah's pillow.

"Rick."

Jim stood in the doorway. Without speaking, his eyes followed the older man to the corner where Jim wrestled a gliding rocker out from under a menagerie of stuffed animals, wrangling it closer to the bed.

"You might as well be comfortable."

Rick grabbed the arm of the rocker, helping Jim resettle it near the bed. Jim set a quilt on the rocker's arm.

"Katie's room has fresh sheets if you'd rather—"

"No." Rick cut him off. "I'll stay here. Thank you."

Jim nodded his understanding. He was about to leave but hesitated, setting a hand on Rick's shoulder. Neither spoke. Then Jim gave him one last squeeze and left the room.

Rick had just settled into the glider when he noticed Hannah's eyes were open. He remained completely still, not wanting to disturb her.

"Rick?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

He rose and scooted the chair closer. "I missed you. I wanted to see you."

"Oh," came the sleepy response. "Did Mom come, too?"

Rick hesitated. "No, she had to work." He reached out, taking her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers tightly, and warmth flooded through him. "Would you like a story to help you sleep?"

"What about?"

"How about a princess named Hannah and a king in a faraway Castle." The story shaped itself in his thoughts, how the princess was stolen away from her father—.

"No, thank you. Can you tell me one about you and 'Lexis?"

What little girl doesn't want a story about a princess version of herself? He wondered. Kate Beckett's daughter, that's who. Figures. The corners of his mouth pulled downward. She probably told her Santa isn't real, too.

Instead, he told a story about when Alexis was very small, how she pretended to have a sister.

"Is it true?" she asked partway through.

"Absolutely," Rick said. "She didn't have one, so she made one up and named her Maybe-ella."

There was a little giggle. "That's a funny name."

Rick smiled. "It is, but she was only three so it's okay."

"'Lexis was three?"

"Mmm hmm."

There was a long silence.

"Are you going to be here in the morning?" She asked at last.

"Yes."

Her eyes brightened. "How many nights?"

Rick wondered how to answer. "How many would you like me to stay?"

She thought for a moment. "Four!"

He grinned. "I'm going to promise two, and we'll take it from there. Deal?"

He heard the smile in her voice. "Deal." She yawned.

"Go to sleep now."

"Okay." A moment later, "Can you come to school and eat lunch with me?"

"Of course."

"Kendra comes and eats with Sammy sometimes, but Mom always has to work."

"Not every mom or dad can do that."

"Uh huh." She gave an enormous yawn and for moments there was no sound but her deep breathing and the occasional creak of a house settling into the cold.

"Rick?" she asked again.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Why are you sleeping in my chair?"

"Because I'm afraid of the dark."

"Really? Mom is too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but I kinda think maybe she's making it up."

"It's hard to imagine her being afraid of anything," Rick agreed.

"Yeah, she is. She's afraid of something happening to me."

Rick nodded. "All Moms worry about their kids."

Her voice was quiet, thoughtful even. "She's scared of somethin' happening to you, too."

"Right, cuz we're partners and catch dangerous bad guys."

"No!" Hannah sat up, apparently wide awake. "That's not it! She's scared of telling you something. I heard her and Papa talking about it while I was supposed to be in bed."

Rick lifted an eyebrow, heavy eyelids widening slightly. "Did she say what it was?"

Hannah lay back down again. "Something about you knowing something—anyway, Mom said it's the worst thing she ever did, but I kinda think having to kill someone is way worse. And sometimes, she has to do that."

"Sometimes she has to," Rick said slowly, "She tries not to, though."

"Do you think it's worse than keeping secrets?"

Bitterness rose, threatening to sweep over him again. "It depends on the secret."

She seemed to accept that and lay back down, lifting her long brown hair out of the way.

"Did your mom and Papa know you were listening?"

Hannah shook her head. "They never let me stay up."

"So you were hiding?"

He could just see the side of her face, but her voice was full of tantalizing mischief. "Yeah, I was playing spy!"

Rick wanted to laugh out loud. "You like to play spy do you?"

"Unh huh! It's fun. I like sneaking around in the dark. Sometimes spies have to pretend they're someone they're not and that's fun too, but not as much fun as sneaking around in the dark."

Rick leaned forward intently, "Hannah Joy, have you ever played laser tag?"

The little girl shook her head.

"It's something Alexis and I like to play, it's…. I'll explain later, but it involves sneaking around in the dark with toy laser guns.

"Oooo! Can I play with you?" She was wide awake now.

"Definitely, we will do that together."

"That's so awesome," she whispered.

"It is. Now, it's really late, and you have school tomorrow."

"I know, I know," She grumbled and then gave another enormous yawn. "I gotta go to sleep, but I'm not tired."

"Do you want another story?"

"About you and 'Lexis playing the spy game?"

"No, this one is a calm, quiet story about a princess who was kidnapped and taken away from her father, the king—he lived in a castle, of course, and—"

"Princesses are boring, but the part about the kidnapping sounds cool."

"Princesses are not boring!"

"Yeah, they are. I want a story about a kickass princess. Can she be kickass?"

Rick was taken aback. "Do your mom and Papa know you talk like that?"

"Papa doesn't allow it, but Mom says it sometimes, so I do, too."

"Except when she's around," he surmised.

"Yeah." She half-heartedly agreed, then let out a huge yawn.

Seeing it, Rick hid a smile and pitched his voice lower, deliberately lulling her into sleep. "Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of York, there lived a ruggedly handsome king in a magnificent castle. The king had two beautiful daughters, one whose hair was as red as a sunset, and another whose hair was as black as midnight.

"Why are the princesses beautiful? Mom says it's better to be smart."

"That's true, now don't interrupt."

"The king's daughters were smart as well as beautiful and the eldest grew to become the chancellor over all the land for she had the gift of leadership and wisdom."

"What about the youngest?"

"The youngest," he hesitated, thinking fast. "The youngest had all the makings of a mighty warrior, like her mother."

"That's cool," Hannah whispered around another yawn, her voice growing sleepier.

"The youngest daughter learned to wield a sword, shoot a bow and in time, the king put her in charge of all his armies, for it was clear she was gifted with brains as well as beauty. The king knew that so long as the youngest princess held a sword and commanded the armies, his people were safe."

Rick let his voice grow gradually softer and slower as the story went on. Finally, he fell silent, waiting to see if she was still alert. He leaned his head back and reached for a quilt, tucking it around himself. He sighed.

"Goodnight," Hannah whispered.

"Goodnight, my love."

All was silent.


Sleeping at the loft without Castle was out of the question. Kate surveyed the bedroom she'd shared with him for such a short period and was filled with a longing and an ache that had nothing to do with their physical relationship. She didn't know whether she would be welcome there again, whether their tenuous marriage would survive the secrets she'd guarded so closely.

She slipped silently into the night to walk the twenty short blocks to her apartment, her head ducked against the snow. She arrived home and dropped her keys on the counter, surveying the disaster of her life, the half-packed boxes. Rick was so anxious for me to move in with him. Now…. She wished bitterly to be somewhere else, even Castle's bedroom would be better than here.

Now it was over. It felt like it anyway. All of her careful planning come to naught. Castle was gone, maybe forever. She couldn't blame him. It was unforgivable that she'd kept Hannah Joy a secret for so long.

If only I'd told him immediately. If only I'd told him when he started shadowing me….

But wishes were useless.

She sank onto her sofa, hiding her face in her hands. Sharp pain gnawed at her insides as she saw again his fury and rage, the betrayal that her silence had brought. She pushed herself off the sofa and went to the bedroom. She would run until exhaustion, until she could fall into bed incapable of finding anything but oblivion.

Her plan had only modest success. She fell into bed to sleep only a few short hours, but the memory of the devastation in Castle's eyes roused her in full darkness. The one place she badly wanted to be was lost to her. Castle was with Hannah now, and she would adjust to sharing their daughter's time. Instead she rose, packed a duffel bag with several changes of clothes, and went to the precinct. The clothes were stuffed away in her locker to allow her to work around the clock, if need be.


Rick awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck and a violent need to pee. The gray light of dawn just eked over the horizon, illuminating a glistening blanket of snow covering everything. Hannah slept on as Rick rose, stifling a groan as he rubbed his neck. The bathroom. He needed the bathroom, and then…. Coffee.

Moments later, he padded down the staircase and ambled into the kitchen to find Jim seated at the table, already dressed and combed, a mug of dark nirvana cradled in his hands as he listened to NPR.

"Morning," Jim said, turning the radio down.

"Morning," Rick answered, feeling self-conscious in his stocking feet and rumpled, slept-in clothes. He paused, rubbing his arms, wondering which cupboard housed the mugs.

Jim seemed to read his mind. "To the right of the microwave."

Rick nodded gratefully and joined Kate's father at the table, his own mug warming his hands.

There was an awkward silence, as Rick observed a puffy, red area on Jim's jaw. He winced and looked away.

"Any plans for the day?" Jim said casually.

"I… yes. I promised Hannah to have lunch with her at school. I'll drive her, maybe spend the morning in her classroom, if they'll let me."

Jim nodded. "Not a problem. School's delayed two hours because of snow, so it'll be a short morning."

A smile broke over Rick's face. "Perfect," he murmured, taking a large swallow of the bitter coffee. He scanned the expanse of white out the window. "Is there a sledding hill nearby?"

Running footsteps broke the flow of the conversation, as Hannah appeared with Chip fluttering after her. "Rick! You're still here!" She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

Rick set his mug down to pull her close, burying his nose in her hair as contentment stole through him. He failed to notice Chip perching on the edge of his mug. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know... maybe... the city?" she teased, pulling away, her eyes dancing.

"Yeah, well, not today." He leaned back in his chair, frowning at the brightly colored bird on his coffee cup. Chip scooped a beakful of coffee, then flew away scolding loudly while Hannah threw her arms around Jim, and clambered into his lap.

Jim offered her his mug and she shared it with an easy familiarity that cut Rick. That should be him with his daughter in his lap, sharing coffee…. He'd missed so much, so many mornings….

"Hannah," he leaned forward. "I was thinking, let's find a hill for sledding. We can play in the snow, maybe make an igloo. I'll drive you to school later, and stay for lunch."

"An igloo?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"If we can find the right pan in the kitchen."

"Knock yourselves out," Jim invited, smiling slightly.

"Do you have snow pants?"

"I'll go get them!" Hannah slid off Jim's lap, scampering back toward the stairs.

"After breakfast," Jim interrupted firmly.


It was full dark long before Hannah was tucked into bed, bathed, washed, and intrigued by Rick's promise to French braid her hair for school in the morning. Rick closed the door softly and wandered into the bedroom he'd shared with Kate. He looked around, taking in his suitcase on the dresser, the framed photos of Kate and her parents on the walls, the desk in the corner. He thought longingly of his laptop, wishing he'd brought it.

The grandfather clock struck eight as he wandered into the downstairs room that served as a library. He perused the shelves, noting a well-worn set of Jane Austen's work, Grandmother's favorites by the look of them. When he crouched to read the titles on the lower shelves, a very familiar spine caught his eye, Heat Wave and Naked Heat. He pulled it out with a whimsical smile, wondering how it came to be in this particular room. Did Kate ;eave it here? Certainly, Grandmother didn't sound like the type…. Jim? The smile slipped a notch as he remembered the steamy sex scenes between Rook and Heat. Did Kate's father read them?

"Ew!" Rick muttered, shoving the books back on the shelf. There was a chuckle behind him. He turned to find Jim holding two drinks.

"Katie wasn't especially thrilled to know I'd read those books, to be honest. "I prefer to imagine some anonymous NYPD detective when I read the more salacious parts. But, I think she's pretty great, so anyone that agrees is all right in my book." Jim gave him a wry smile, and Rick accepted the glass he offered. He moved a Pirates of the Caribbean book bag off an upholstered chair and sat, gesturing for Rick to take its twin.

Rick sat and took a curious sip from the icy tumbler full of dark liquid.

"Is this… grape Kool-Aid?"

"On the rocks," Jim shrugged. "I'd offer you something a little more sophisticated, but you probably know why I don't keep it in the house." He leaned back, resting his ankle on the opposite knee. An unused fireplace languished against the far wall, giving the room a masculine feel. He sipped at his Kool-Aid, staring at the glass for a moment. He sighed.

"I've seen a lot of parents lose sight of what's important, parents who use their children to hurt each other." He cleared his throat. "I hope to God you're not planning to punish Kate by taking Hannah—"

Rick lowered his glass and straightened in his seat. "My plan is to raise my daughter, and no one is going interfere with that again." He gave Jim a level stare. "Litigation or not, I won't be satisfied with less than half time, and I want her enrolled in school near me."

"I thought you'd say that." Jim nodded gravely, staring at the floor in silence. The lines of his face seemed deeper somehow. "Let's start with weekend visits."

Rick sat up a little straighter and leaned forward and he stated very clearly, "I've no intention of being a weekend father."

Jim held up one hand. "Let's start with weekend visits for now. "Hannah needs a transition period. Once school is out, she can spend longer periods with you." If everything goes well, and we all are in agreement, there's no reason she can't start school in New York this fall." Jim eyed Rick, noting his lingering frown.

Grimacing, Rick leaned back, swirling his Kool-Aid before taking a swig. "Kate and I may not be together by then."

"I understand," Jim said heavily. The lines on his face deepened, and his gaze dropped to the floor. "You and Katie will have to work out the details."

Rick gave a bare nod, staring moodily into his glass.

He set his tumbler down on a nearby coaster and steepled his fingers.

When Jim spoke again, his voice took on a lower, melancholy tone. "Parenthood is a series of heartbreaks, Rick," he said slowly. "You raise a child from total dependence, and she becomes the most important part of your life. But the day comes when she leaves home, and you think she doesn't need you anymore, and your work is done. Then one day, she comes home again, bringing a treasure with her." He met Rick's gaze. "Hannah Joy." His voice softened on Hannah's middle name, drawing it out.

Rick nodded.

"The first time around as a dad, you're establishing a career and your daughter sometimes comes second. But when the second chance comes, you're ready to do it right and put that baby first. Nothing else matters." He absently swirled his drink in his glass. "Then someone new comes along with a previously unknown prior claim, and you're letting go all over again, but sooner than you planned." He sighed and sipped his Kool-Aid. "It's enough to make you want to pick up the bottle again."

"Hannah—"" Rick began but Jim held up a hand to stop him, shaking his head.

"It's about Hannah, and what's best for her. For me, that's what this has always been about." Jim set his empty glass on an end table, and caught Rick's eye. "For the record, I'm glad you're here, and that Hannah has you in her life now. Nothing could please me more than to see her establish healthy relationships with you and your family, even if that means she no longer lives with me here."

Jim leaned forward. "Know this, I'm on Hannah's side, and I'm going to do everything in my power to see that you and Hannah get the kind of relationship you've missed out on, Now, I'm looking forward to playing Grandfather, and spoiling her rotten, but she needs a transition period. To be honest, I need that transition as much as Hannah. I hope you can give us that."

Rick stared at his father-in-law in silence. "Of course," he answered at last.

A heavy sigh escaped Jim's lips as he collapsed back into his chair, a brief smile on his lips, but worry still lined his face. "I just hope you and Katie can work things out, that the three of you can make a family together. That's what I'm gunning for. Partly for Hannah, but as much for Katie." His gaze lingered on Rick's face. "She loves you, you know. I saw it years ago."

Rick heard him out in silence. "If she loves me so much," he finally said, bitterness sharpening his voice, "then how could she keep Hannah from me for this long? Why didn't she tell me?"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but reached for his glass instead, rattling the ice cubes as he stared into their depths. "You're asking the wrong person," he said at last.


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