A/N: I know, I know...it's been ages! I'll bet many of you thought I'd abandoned this story completely. I have had to cut back my writing time, and have been focusing on finishing one story at a time, slowly working my way through all my in-progress stories. Now it's time to tackle "Chasing A Ghost". I anticipate there are 4-5 chapters, including this one, left in this story. I know, that seems awfully short, and there are things many of you want to happen in this story that just won't. Some of them will be better suited to my planned sequel (yes, another one!) to this story. I hope that all of you who were following this story haven't disappeared while I was on my little hiatus. I have so appreciated the reviews and messages that came in while I was "off"...please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think!
Meredith stared nervously out the car window, her breath fogging the glass as she watched the snow covered scenery move slowly past.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said quietly. "Why am I doing this?"
"Because you want to know your family," Derek said. "You want to know where you came from."
"I don't come from these people, Derek."
"No, but Ellis did," Derek reminded her. "And you came from Ellis, so indirectly at least, you do come from these people."
"What if I hate them?" Meredith asked. "What if my grandmother is a really old version of my mother? What if she hates me?"
"Then she's a damn fool, and we say to hell with it and we leave," Derek shrugged as he guided the car around the final corner and down the long gravel road toward the old ranch house Meredith's grandparents lived in.
"So I shouldn't be nervous?"
"You can be nervous," Derek said. "Just don't be scared."
"Oh good, so glad you mentioned that, because I was planning on being both."
"No need for the sarcasm, Cristina's not here."
"Ha ha," Meredith shook her head, biting back a laugh. "You think you're so funny, Derek Shepherd."
"My mother thinks I am," Derek said smugly. "She thinks I'm absolutely perfect."
"Your mother thinks you're an over-moussed fool who can't tell his left hand from his right hand," Meredith said. "She told me. She likes me better than you."
"See? Everyone likes you," Derek pointed out, turning to face her as he cut the engine in front of her aunt's house. "And your grandparents will too, I'm sure. Now, should we go inside? It's about five degrees outside right now."
"Wimp," Meredith muttered, pushing open the passenger side door while Derek hurried around to help her out. "Honestly, you'd think you'd grown up in the tropics instead of New York."
"We never had anything like this in New York," Derek pointed out. "It does not get this cold on the East coast, Meredith. It's like it gets in your bones and never gets out."
"I don't know, I kind of like it," Meredith shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe I've got a bit of Montana in me after all."
Meredith sat on the edge of the couch cushion, her hands resting nervously in her lap as she tried to figure out how to start a conversation with the woman across from her. She wasn't quite sure where her aunts had gone, but one by one they'd come up with some sort of excuse to leave the room, until eventually it was just Meredith, Derek and her grandparents left in the room.
Virginia Roberts was everything Meredith had always suspected Ellis' mother would be. She was an elegant, beautiful woman, even in her advanced age. Her silver hair was pulled back, not a strand out of place. Every inch of her was polished, refined and controlled. When they'd first been introduced, Meredith had been nearly speechless – it was as though she were shaking the hand of the woman she'd pictured Ellis becoming had she had the chance to grow old.
Her grandfather, on the other hand, was a different story entirely. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected from Ellis' father, but whatever it was, Benjamin Roberts was certainly not it. He was rougher around the edges than his wife, his physical strength faded by nearly a century of living, but there was still a vibrancy about him. Meredith could just as easily picture a younger version of him crouched on the floor with his young children or grandchildren as she could picture him working the land. She had a harder time imagining him as she knew he had been – standing behind a pulpit, praying for his town. Something about him didn't seem to fit with her image of a small town preacher, but she supposed she wasn't really one to judge, having been to church only a few times in her life.
"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Roberts," Derek said awkwardly, feeling the need to break the silence somehow.
"Thank you, Derek," Virginia replied. "But please, I must ask you to call me Virginia. It isn't as though we're complete strangers here."
"Of course."
And with Derek's polite nod, the silence returned again despite his effort to start some sort of conversation. Both women clearly had things they wanted – perhaps even needed – to say, but neither seemed willing to make the first move. If things continued in this way, Derek had a strong suspicion that it was going to be a very long evening.
"Hey Daddy, do you think you come give me a hand with these potatoes?" Catherine asked, sticking her head into the living room. "I never can get your recipe quite right."
"I don't even know why you try, Cath," Benjamin said with a shake of his head, grabbing his cane and very slowly getting to his feet. "I've only been showing you for the last fifty years."
"I'm a slow learner, get over it," Catherine laughed. "Derek, do you think you could come give us a hand? Daddy can't lift a lot of the pots and pans these days. Old age, you understand."
"I'm right here, you know," Benjamin protested. "I may be older than dirt, but my hearing works just fine, Catherine."
Derek looked questioningly at Meredith, who hesitated for just a moment before offering a small nod, granting Derek permission to leave her alone with her grandmother.
"Well," Virginia commented as Derek following Benjamin and Catherine down the hall to the kitchen. "That certainly wasn't subtle, was it?"
"No, I suppose it wasn't," Meredith agreed.
"I feel as though there's so much I want to say to you, but I don't even know where to start," Virginia said.
"Seems to be a common theme this week. I guess I caught you all a little off guard."
"It was a surprise when Catherine called to tell us you were here, yes," Virginia said. "But perhaps not for the reasons you think."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I was surprised because I'd almost given up on the idea that you'd come at all," Virginia admitted. "After your mother died, I thought you'd be coming much sooner."
"After my mother…wait, you knew? How?"
"Hold on," Virginia carefully eased her fragile body off the seat and slowly walked to the desk under the window. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out a well-worn envelope and returned to the couch, handing it to Meredith before taking her seat again.
"What's this?" Meredith asked, flipping the envelope over, her breath hitching in confusion when she saw the Boston postmark and the address written in her mother's familiar handwriting.
"It arrived a little under four years ago," Virginia explained. "Go on, you can read it if you'd like."
"Oh, I don't…"
"It's really alright," Virginia assured her. "I think you should read it. You might find it enlightening."
Meredith nodded and carefully removed the sheet of paper from the envelope, her hands shaking as she unfolded it and began to read.
Mother,
Please do not mistake my intentions in writing you this letter. This is not an attempt to initiate a reconciliation or rekindle relations. I have moved forward with my life, and have no need or desire to resurrect relationships I have long since buried in the past.
With that out of the way, you may be wondering why I've bothered to contact you at all. It's a longer story than I have the energy to write at this moment, but the fact of the matter is, Mother, that I'm dying. Not today, probably not even this year, but it will be soon. This may seem harsh, but I know I don't have time to mince words here.
When I am gone, it will fall to my daughter to handle my affairs, and in doing so, I suspect she will come across records that will lead her to you. It will come as a shock to her when she discovers you and your family, as I have, of course, never mentioned you to her. She will need time to adjust to the idea, but once she has done, I strongly suspect that she will contact you. In fact, if I know my Meredith as I think I do, she's more likely to simply show up on your doorstep than to call or write first. I don't want you to turn her away out of surprise when she does arrive, which is why I am writing you this letter.
As you will see when you meet her, Meredith is an extraordinary woman – she's had to be. Nothing has been handed to her, nothing has been easy for her. She may very well be angry when you meet her. Don't let that throw you, Mother, it's a sign that she cares. Trust me, the indifference when she doesn't is much worse. The anger will pass, it always does. You just have to wait her out. She is smart, full of passion and talent that I've yet to see her harness. Perhaps by the time you meet her, she will have done that.
She has a good heart and she cares, perhaps to a fault. She is constantly looking for validation from others, despite my efforts to teach her that she can only count on herself. When she comes to you, I can't ask you to love her – that is not a decision I can make for you. All I can ask is that you be kind. Don't reject her out of hand, don't judge her based on my actions or our relationship. Give her a chance based on her own merits. I think you'll find she would fit in quite well with your family, at least as I knew them before my departure.
I have left instructions with my attorney to contact you once I am gone. I wouldn't think it would be more than a few months, six or eight at the most, after that before you hear from Meredith.
I trust that this letter will find you well, but if that is not the case, please pass this information on to Catherine.
Sincerely,
Ellis
"Wow," Meredith muttered as she folded the letter back up and handed it back to her grandmother. "I, uh, don't quite know what to say to that."
"Ellie seems to have loved you very much. I do wish I could have seen her with you," Virginia said. "There's something special about seeing your daughters become mothers. I'll never forget the first time I saw each of my girls with their babies. I wish I could have had that with my Ellie, too."
"You could have," Meredith said. "As I understand it, you're the one who sent her away. Whatever you missed, that's on you."
"Believe me, dear, I've had years to come to terms with that fact," Virginia said. "There are things in my life that I don't expect to be forgiven for, and that would top the list."
"So you're not going to ask me to forgive you?"
"No," Virginia shook her head slowly. "I understand the you aren't your mother. It's not fair to ask you to forgive me in her stead. The only one left for me to seek forgiveness from is God, and that's a conversation I have with Him every night."
"Then why rush back here?" Meredith asked. "Why go to all the trouble to fly back here today, just to see me?"
"I think your mother was right about a lot of things in that letter," Virginia said. "But where it counted, she was wrong about one very important thing."
"What's that?"
"She thought I had a decision to make, whether or not to love you," Virginia said. "What Ellie forgot is that love isn't usually a choice. I flew back because you're the child of my child. I may have been terrible at showing it when it mattered most, but I loved your mother with all my heart. There's no decision to be made, Meredith, you're her daughter, which means I love you just as much as any of my grandchildren. I want to know you, I want you to have the chance to know my husband and I. That's why we came back today."