Chapter 38: Father's Day

Laura and Remington arrived in Oia early Sunday afternoon. The Androkus home was crammed full with extended family and friends who were feasting on the traditional after church banquet the Androkus's lay out each week. There was much ado about the young couple's arrival, with many slaps of Remington's back in congratulations of his impending fatherhood, along with some good-natured ribbing, and gripes from a good many about the money they'd lost when they'd laid odds fatherhood would be years down the line or the notion dismissed altogether.

Laura had been dragged off by Helena, Calista and Melina the second Elena had stopped showering the younger woman with hugs and kisses. Whereas her husband had received hearty smacks in congratulations, she was willing to swear under oath that nearly every woman had touched, stroked, held her stomach. Whereas he was teased about how quickly fatherhood had descended upon him after marriage, she received a veritable War and Peace worth of advice on everything from gas to swollen ankles. She held tight to her patience, had managed to keep a smile plastered to her face, but when one cousin – five times removed, at that – asked if she was preparing her breasts for nursing, she'd looked around the room with some desperation and caught Remington's eye where he stood drinking Ouzo and laughing with a group of men. He'd immediately excused himself and made his way to her.

"Mrs. Steele, if you think you could tear yourself away," he began, when he reached her side, "I'd like to go to the house, get unpacked and get in a kip or two before the festivities this evening."

"I suppose we should," she answered, feigning a heavy sigh of regret.

Elena reached into her pocket and pulled out the key to the small home in which Remington had spent part of his childhood, while snapping her fingers towards a group of men. Mikos gave a sharp nod, before dismissing himself from the group he'd been speaking with.

"Mikos will drive you to the house, then return for you at six and deliver you to see Ioseph before dinner," she instructed. Remington turned slack jawed at the directions, while Laura's eyes widened. Delivered, indeed, he muttered to himself silently, Right into the lion's den!

"Uh, Elena, could our meeting with Ioseph perhaps wait until later in the week? We're both a bit jetlagged and with court tomorrow we—"

"Xenos, you will do as you are told," the older woman told him firmly, drawing a chagrined look from the man she considered a son.

"Of course," he acquiesced, bussing her on the cheek. "Shall we, love?" he inquired of Laura, holding out his hand towards the door. She held her tongue and amusement until they got into the car.

"I have to find time to sit down with Elena and find out exactly how it is she gets you to follow direction, when I've had so little success." He gave her a withering look.

"It's no secret, Laura," he drawled. "Beyond the debt I owe for them taking me in as a child, once Elena's tugged you about the kitchen by your ear for talking back, then has served you up for one of Marcos's tasks to work off your misdeed, you're not inclined to test those waters often."

"By your…. I'm not sure if I should be alarmed or amused." He shrugged his shoulders.

"I see no reason to be alarmed. Even as a young lad, most understand they don't wish to be parted from their ear. Imagine the teasing on the playground!" he grinned. "Christos was not among the wiser. A couple months before I set out on my own, he decided to attempt flight whilst his ear was between her fingers. Needless to say, he didn't get far, but his ear was reddened for a week. To this day, all Elena has to do is move a hand near that ear, and he becomes a bumbling mass of contrition and solicitude." His warm laughter filled the car. "Am I wrong, Mikos?"

"Xen speaks the truth. Chris's fear of Thea Elena taking hold of his ear is the source of much laughter at the dinner table," Mikos confirmed. Laura gave a small snort of laughter.

"And yourself, Mikos? Has Elena done the same to you?" Remington shook his head before Mikos could reply and held his hand before his mouth as though prepared to share a secret.

"Choir boy," he told her in a stage whisper.

"Respectful," Mikos corrected. "Unlike Christos, Zeth and Xenos, I felt no need to test the boundaries… or risk the consequences for doing so."

"As I said…" Remington replied.

"At least I have no reason to fear when Thea Elena orders me to Ioseph," Mikos retorted, giving Remington a smirk in the rearview mirror. "Can you say the same, Xen?" Remington crossed his arms and looked out the window, refusing to dignify the question with an answer while his traitorous wife tittered with mirth beside him, drawing his attention back to her.

"Need I remind you, love, who ended up with the lion's share of penance when last we crossed paths with Ioseph?" he asked while raising a brow in her direction. Her laughter faded and a look of alarm settled on her face, as he'd meant it to, while she scanned her brain for anything she'd done which might curry displeasure.

Although need to unpack and take a nap had been merely a ruse, it was, in fact, precisely what the Steele's had done, although not intentionally. After unpacking, they'd stretched out on Remington's old childhood bed, while he'd used soothing touch as Laura had expressed her frustration over everyone laying their hands on her stomach earlier, and her worries that this didn't bode well for the future months. While she'd grown accustomed to Remington's unconscious touches over the years, by nature she was woman shied away from casual contact, guarding her personal space ferociously. Oh, a handshake in greeting was fine, expected even, but she was given to staring at a hand, unhappily, which was casually rested or clasped against her arm and was certainly not above ordering someone to 'take your hands off me' when they got too feely. That there might be a steady uptick of strangers pawing at her stomach wasn't something she'd considered, and the very idea made her miserable now. His quiet understanding coupled with the gentle stroking of her arm, hip, stomach had lulled her off to sleep. Spooned behind her, he was effectively pinned between the wall and her body, and not wishing to wake her, he'd dozed off as well.

They'd been wakened by a most enthusiastic and annoying pounding on the front door which had left both of them being startled from sleep. They'd been left scrambling to put back on shoes, to smooth down hair and get out the door. Now they sat before Ioseph, who was currently bestowing on them a healthy dose of skepticism coupled with a dark look of displeasure.

"I can't think of a thing," Remington repeated for the second time, lifting both hand palms up then letting them fall.

"Me either," Laura also repeated, with raised brows and a helpless flick of her hand.

"This, from your wife I might believe, but yourself, Xenos?" Ioseph scoffed. "Elena will be displeased when she finds you've lied to your Priest in order to avoid the unpleasantries of penance." Remington raised and dropped his hands again.

"May I remind you I'm a married man, who has chosen to live on the right side of the law?" he countered. "Believe me, I am far more worried about currying my wife's displeasure than the Church's. After all, I have to sleep with her, a state made relatively difficult when one must keep an eye open." Crossing her arms, Laura snorted a quiet laugh at that, a smile playing with her lips. Ioseph's gaze swung to her.

"You find enjoyment in your husband's cavalier dismissal of the Church's authority, then?" Her eyes widened and jaw flapped for a long second before she found her voice.

"I don't think that's what he was doing at all," she rebutted. She turned to Remington for support. "Were you?"

"Not at all. I was merely making the point that you have the ability to make my life glorious or quite the opposite should I provoke that mercurial temper of yours and I much prefer the former," he agreed. She held up her hands towards Ioseph as if to say 'see?' Ioseph looked from one to the other, then leaned back in his chair and let the silence linger long.

"Since neither of you will be swayed from this foolish course, you may leave," he directed, with a dismissive wave of his hand towards the door.

Remington gave a careless shrug and stood to offer Laura a hand up. She waited until the door closed behind them and they were several feet down the hallway before she gave in to laughter.

"I don't think your cousin is very pleased with you at the moment." He gave her hand a squeeze.

"Us, love. Us. And if I know him as well as I once did, he'll be out for blood next go round." His comment drew a frown.

"Rather childish, don't you think?"

"Laura, you're speaking of a man who mingles amongst family, racking up penance in his head," he reminded her.

"Why do Elena and Marcos put up with it? Encourage it even?" she demanded to know as they exited the church.

"Not Marcos. Elena is, for the most part, in charge of the children's upbringing and education, including religious. She comes from a very strict, Catholic family," he continued, opening the car door for her, "And is bound and determined to preserve her children's immortal souls."

"Don't you find that a bit odd, in light of Marcos's profession?" she pursued, as she slid into the backseat.

"Not particularly. Not only does Marcos hail from the same background as Elena's own, but he's a man of morals and superstition, in his own right. You'll not be able to convince him to transport drugs, weapons, of any kind, on his ship. He fully believes any harm you aid, will revisit you tenfold." He gave her a censuring look. "There is such a thing as the honorable miscreant, Laura. You married one."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she chastised, with a shake of her head. "I love Elena and Marcos. I'm just… frustrated with Ioseph and his imperiousness. Who runs rough shod over him?"

"Marcos," Remington and Mikos answered as though of one voice.

"Priest or not, Marcos will have him out on the ship doing hard labor when he goes too far," Remington added.

"And Ioseph simply accepts that?" She gave a short, dry, bark of a laugh. "I have a hard time believing that."

"There is only one thing that trumps Ioseph's loathing of manual labor, and that is his fear of being uninvited to all Androkus functions. Where else would he find so many hapless victims in a single place… daily at that?"

"Not to mention so many with whom he has a bone to pick," Mikos added.

"And why, exactly is that?" Laura inquired.

"Eleven of us cousins were within a three-year range of one another, Ioseph amongst that number. When he wasn't tattling on one of us, he was sniveling about another," Mikos explained. "We were forever finding ourselves doing hard labor instead of playing out of doors, as we should have, because of his unpleasant nature and often when we'd done nothing at all, given he was prone to tales when something didn't go the way he wished. On several occasions, the cousin most recently sentenced would provoke him into a round of fisticuffs, he always coming out on the losing side. Naturally, more tattling, more punishment would follow. Eventually, having had enough, we ostracized him, only engaging with him when forced by our parents."

"So, he uses his role as a Priest to settle old scores?" Laura asked, flabbergasted.

"Aye," Remington answered.

"I have to ask again… Why? Why does anyone put up with it?" Her voice raised an octave and she threw up her hands.

"Because other than this game with family members, he's a good Priest," he answered with a shrug.

"And, except when it is our own head on the chopping block, we enjoy the competition of who will next send whom to Ioseph," Mikos added with a grin.

The car came to a stop in front of the Androkus home and all three got out. Remington claimed Laura's hand for his own as they walked to the front door. The evening festivities had already begun when they arrived, the house packed with immediate family: Christos, Helena and their brood of five; Zeth, Calista and their six children; Melina, accompanied by Giorgos Demetriou, the thirtyish man she'd been dating for some months; and, Alex and Stavros, along with their wives and their combined seven children. The small family dinner was comprised of fifteen adults and eighteen children… well, eighteen adults if all had gone as planned. Christos, of course, had been waiting to ambush Remington.

"So, big brother," he greeted, slapping Remington on the back of the shoulder a little more exuberantly than necessary, drawing a look, "How much time shall you be committing to penance this time? Three days? A week?"

"Neither myself nor Laura will be spending so much as a minute on penance," Remington exulted, enjoying the astounded look on Christos's face before he caught himself and dismissed Remington's claim.

"I don't believe you. It's been months since your last confession," Christos refuted. "So, tell the truth, brother… What did Ioseph assign you?" Remington merely lifted a brow at the other man, leading him to look to Laura for her to contradict her husband's claims. She held up a hand and shook her head.

"We couldn't come up with a thing," she told him simply.

"Couldn't…! Ah, come now, Xenos, you know Mama will be quite upset when she finds out you lied in the confessional," Christos warned.

"May I remind you, we never see the inside of the confessional? But that is neither here nor there. Business has been… sedate… so there's not been much opportunity to get ourselves into trouble there," Remington expounded.

"Not to mention much of our time has been preoccupied with the aftermath of Roselli and Anna," Laura added.

"I still don't believe it, but come, Mama has allowed no one to eat, not even a pinch of moussaka, until you joined us."

Remington guided Laura with his hand at the small of her back, the threesome crossed living room, kitchen and dining room, to join the rest of the family on the terrace. He'd just bent over to pull out her chair for her when he did a double take at the man seated two chairs down from where Laura would be.

"Father?" He drew out the name in disbelief, as Thomas stood and eased his way past Catherine's chair to embrace his son. "Pardon me for asking, but what are you doing here?"

"Laura thought you'd enjoy my presence for your anniversary celebration," Thomas answered, while clapping his son on the back, "And that I might want to be at Roselli's sentencing, given the time he cost us."

"She did, did she?" he asked, giving his wife a thousand-watt smile, as he stepped from his father's embrace. "Where are you staying?"

"Marcos and Elena recommended the Spa at the top of the Cyclades. Catherine and I checked in last evening." Remington bent down and bussed Catherine's cheek, while Laura and Thomas embraced.

"Catherine, thank you for coming."

"Laura extended us an invitation we couldn't possibly decline," she answered, demurely. Once Thomas sat back down, Remington assisted Laura into her seat, then joined her.

As was tradition when not eating banquet style, Elena, Melina, Calista and Helena served the family. From somewhere down towards the end of the table came a familiar voice.

"Thank you."

Remington leaned forward in his seat, certain he'd imagined it, then sat back up straight to look at Laura, who'd covered her mouth as she laughed.

"Good Lord, you've been busy, woman," he observed, then stood to walk to the other side of the table.

"Hello, darling," he greeted Mildred, bending down to buss her on the cheek. "You and Mrs. Steele have been keeping secrets again, I see. Sad day when a man is surrounded by women conspiring to keep him off-balance."

"Ah, Chief, you'll be fine," she grinned, patting his cheek.

"Are you staying at the Spa as well?"

"Uh uh. Since you and the missus are staying elsewhere, Elena invited me to stay in the guest room normally use."

"I see, three women, then, in cahoots. I'll have to find a way to even those odds," he teased, before standing upright and returning to sit next to his partner. She leaned over and held her lips close to his ear.

"Happy anniversary," she whispered, then brushed a feather light kiss against his neck below his ear, before sitting upright again.

"I think you may well have outdone anything I might have in store, Mrs. Steele," he noted, quietly, for her ears only.

"Yet, there's more to come…" She left him with that thought, as she turned away to talk to Catherine, leaving him scratching at the side of his head.

When dinner had ended, with the workday lying ahead, the crowd in the Androkus household quickly thinned. All the adults with children had departed to put their young ones to bed, although both Zeth and Christos had promised to return for a bit after the children were asleep. By unspoken agreement, the remaining adults gathered by the pool on chairs and chaises they'd arranged in a semi-circle, so they could converse while those who'd chosen to enjoyed a chilled glass of Ouzo. Much like Remington and herself, Melina reclined between Giorgos's legs, her back resting against his chest. This evening had been the calmest Laura had ever seen the younger woman, and watching her with Giorgos now, she couldn't help but wonder if Melina had found the person who soothed her heart.

"Tell me, Xenos, Laura, do you worry over the outcome of the trial?" Marcos queried. Remington looked down at Laura, who, looking up at him, merely shrugged a single shoulder.

"I'd say not. We're not particularly looking forward to it or seeing the man again, but even if he were able to somehow escape justice here, it would merely mean he'd be extradited elsewhere. My stubborn and persistent partner saw to that," he credited. Her hand stroked his forearm in thanks.

"What do you mean, Xen?" Melina piped in, looking at the couple questioningly.

"If she hadn't insisted on pursuing why Roselli came after us in the first place, two murders would have gone unanswered," he turned to look at Thomas, "And I'd never have found my father."

"Two murders?" Melina questioned.

"A young couple, just kids really. The military had written off the husband's death as a terrible accident," Laura explained. "When his parachute failed to open on a training jump. Then, presumably because of guilt over her affair with Roselli, when the wife was found dead, it was assumed she'd committed suicide. It was only after we'd broken into Roselli's cabin in Mexico and found the girl's diary that it could be proven he'd murdered both."

"Now, the United States Army wants their turn with him, after Greece and Mexico are through with him," Remington continued.

"Then, of course, there are the charges in Los Angeles for what he did to myself and Xenos: Assault, battery, breaking and entering, kidnapping, murder-for-hire…" she added.

"I never trusted the wannabe homewrecker, not from the get go, always sniffing around the missus like he was," Mildred told the group. "But I never suspected how nuts he really was. And to think it was him behind not only the Boss getting shot, but me getting run over too! If I could get my hands on him, I'd… I'd…" She made a strangling motion with her hands.

"You were run over?" Catherine asked, appalled. "By a car?"

"Oh, yeah," Mildred nodded. "I belong to a bowling team called the Dragon Ladies. We'd just won our latest match when…"

Remington gave Laura's hand a squeeze and when she leaned her head back to look at him, he tilted his head towards the other side of the terrace. She nodded, then stood. They made their way towards the wall overlooking the Aegean. Taking the initiative, he climbed up on the wall to sit, then helped her up to settled between his legs, as he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, letting his right hand rest upon the swell of her stomach.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" he asked, knowing if she had any misgivings, she'd voice them now that they were alone.

"No," she shook her head, "Not really. But I'm not looking forward to it."

"I know what you mean. I want the man to spend the rest of his infernal life rotting in a cell somewhere, but I'd much prefer we not have to relive that evening." Her hand stroked down his left arm, and she took his hand in hers.

"It'll be alright. It's over. We're here, safe. We won, Remington, no matter what happens tomorrow." He let out a harsh breath.

"I hate it, Laura," he confessed, voice strained, as she absently twirled he ring on his finger. "Some of the best memories of my life are here on this island. It was the closest I'd ever known of a home. A sanctuary, even. But now those memories will forever be mixed with knowing he was here, watching us in those days after Ireland… That it was here I watched him hold a gun to you."

"Don't do that. Don't let him have that type of power," she demanded, quietly. "The only thing you need to remember about that last night is that when he was here, this incredible family of yours did as they vowed to do: They kept us safe while helping to capture him. That's what matters." Tucking his head down on her shoulder, he nuzzled her neck with his cheek. Silence lingered between them, as she turned her attention to the lights from boats on the harbor, twinkling like stars resting on the water. The sky was inky dark, with little light being shed by the waning crescent moon, allowing the thousands of stars in the sky to seem even brighter than normal.

"It's beautiful here," she sighed.

"Mmmmm," he hummed, looking out over the harbor. "Yet not near so beautiful as the woman in my arms." She laughed softly and this time it was she nuzzling her head against his.

"You sweet talking Irishman," she teased lightly, before her attention was diverted by the baby moving from her left side to her right. His hand pressed more firmly against her stomach, and he looked down over her shoulder at her rounded stomach.

"Laura, was that…?" She turned her head to look at, him a smile lighting her face.

"The baby?" Reaching back, she lay a hand against his cheek as she nodded. "It was."

"Extraordinary," he murmured. "Perhaps you're right, then."

"About anything specific?"

"Not allowing Roselli to taint my memories of this place, what it is to me." He looked out across the expanse of the terrace, his eyes lingering on his extended family conversing, laughing. "Right on this terrace alone are three of the most cherished memories of my life."

"Oh?" He lifted her left hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the knuckles.

"The night we exchanged these rings and embraced the totality of our future together." She tilted her head back to bestow him with a soft smile. He dropped a kiss upon the tip of her nose. "Our wedding. And now, the first time I felt our child move." Closing her eyes, she grasped his hands and, tangling their fingers together, wrapped his arms firmly around herself.

"For me, this will always be the place where I can imagine you as a little boy. Safe. Loved. Swimming in the Aegean. Getting into mischief with Christos. Building sandcastles with Melina. Pestering Zeth. At least here, you were a child." He nodded his head slowly, then tucked her head under his chin, holding tight to her as he tried to accommodate the sudden rush of emotions their conversation had caused.

Across the terrace, Mildred had been watching the couple and gave a wistful little sigh.

"Is something the matter, Mildred?" Melina asked with concern.

"It's just so nice seeing the kids like this." Melina turned to look at the couple.

"Xen and Laura? But they're always like that, forever sneaking off to be alone, looking for the other when they're parted. Are they not at home?" she asked with curiosity. Mildred shook her head in answer.

"Oh, I've walked in on them in a clinch a time or two over the years, but even now they're rarely this… open, relaxed," she observed. "At home, maybe, but even then, not like this with company present. But in public? Oh ho, nothin' doin'."

"I wonder why," Melina pondered.

"The kids would say it's because they have an image to maintain. They're big news in LA, especially the Boss. You saw how it was after he was shot." Melina nodded her head. "But I'd say that's a bunch of hogwash. Habit, that's what it is. Years of pretending there was nothin' going on between them, both determined the other admit to their feelings before they did. They're so used to pretending there's nothing between them that it's like a comfortable old shoe." Melina leaned forward, out of Giorgos's embrace, wrapping her arms around her knees to lay an eager gaze on Mildred.

"Oh, do tell me!" she pled. "I've been dying to know! Xen was always so… indifferent… towards women before, then he shows up here last year…" She let the thought trail off, hoping Mildred would answer the questions her brother would just brush off.

"Well, I met the kids while I was still working as an auditor for the Internal Revenue Service. He was under investigation for failing to file a tax return, but in the middle of our business…" she snapped her fingers "…he took off for Mexico. Well, I thought he was absconding, but in truth Miss Holt… Mrs. Steele… was in danger…"

Soon, all eyes were on Mildred as she told the tale of how Miss Holt and Mr. Steele, had come to be the Steele's. A good evening, in her eyes, as she loved to be the center of attention when she was telling a story.

Remington stood in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the bed, while Laura cast a speculative look his way.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He grimaced, and shifted from foot-to-foot, shoving his hands towards his pockets, only to belatedly recall his pajama bottoms had no such feature, making him look all the more the fool when his hands instead met only air.

"I feel like a lad who's snuck his girlfriend into the house to diddle her in Mum and Da's bed," he admitted, squirming some more. She giggled with mirth next to him.

"For a man with seemingly few requirements on who he 'diddled'… outside of big breasts and no brains, that is… you have a remarkable number of inhibitions when it comes the possibility of 'diddling' in your parents' home," she teased. He gave her an affronted look.

"I suppose you'd feel any differently if this was your Mother's bed? Where she may have done some 'diddling' of her own?" Her stomach flip-flopped at the vivid image his words had painted in her mind. She scrunched up her face in distaste.

"Well, now I certainly can't sleep in here," she groused, marching over to the bed and yanking the pillows from it. "And I don't believe my Mother has done any 'diddling' since my father left," she added, as she stomped past him towards the living room.

"I think we both know that's not true," he called after her, as he gathered sheets, blanket and spare comforter from the closet then pulled the quilt from the bed, "There's Daniel then the man for whom she bought the… blech… purple wardrobe." In the living room, she plunked her hands on her hips and lifted her chin towards him.

"Mr. Steele, if you wish to ever 'diddle' again, it's my recommendation you stop discussing my mother's sex life!" He smirked at her as he dropped the bedding onto the floor of the living room.

"Seems I'm not the only one with… conflicts… then, eh?" She stared at him for a long moment, then couldn't stop the laugh from passing her lips.

"You're incorrigible," she scolded. He gave her a quick flash of teeth in answer as he spread comforter over quilt.

"All part of my charm." He stood up and held out a hand towards the makeshift bed. "In you get, then." Holding his hand, she knelt down then crawled to the far side and lay down.

"I won't be able to do this much longer," she noted ruefully.

"I have to admit," he told her, as he joined her, "I'm looking forward to the days when you'll need to be hauled to your feet."

"You're confusing your movies and reality again, Remington," she dismissed, then as if to prove the point, got abruptly to her feet again and left the room.

"Something I said," he called after her. A melodious laugh was all the answer he received. "Laura, need I remind you that you need your rest? We've a long day tomorrow." When she reappeared, she turned down the lights, then stepped over him and lay back down, setting the small package she'd brought back with her on his bared chest. "What's this?" he asked with a grin, picking it up and eyeing it.

"Do you have any idea what today is?" she asked, instead. He knew a moment of panic as he wondered if he'd missed a milestone of some sort. Searching his brain he came up utterly blank.

"Other than Sunday, no idea," he answered, turning his head to look at her.

"It's Father's Day," she informed him. "A holiday that will figure prominently in your life for years to come, as you're inundated with tacky ties, garish socks, and all sorts of useless knick-knacks." The thought set a goofy smile on his face.

"And I'll treasure every one of them," he vowed.

"I'll remind you of that promise when you're whining about having to wear a tie with rainbows on it," she forewarned. He shook the box in his hand and looked at her expectantly.

"A gift worthy of the man," she answered vaguely. "Go ahead, open it." Her nerves got the better of her while he pulled off bow, ripped paper and dropped the velvet case contained within into his hand. He sent her a questioning look, took in the nervous hand stroking her throat, even as she carefully blanked her face, attempting disguise her unease. She fought the urge to yank the box out of his hands, even as he pried open the lid and then just stared. She closed her eyes. It had been a risk… a seemingly bad one.

"Is this…?"

"Yes," she drew out the word, her upset with herself going unnoticed by him.

"You said the hospital must've lost it…"

"I lied." She flopped to her back and pressed a hand to her eyes. "I'm sorry. I thought… I wasn't…. grrrrrrrr," she finally growled, frustrated and angry with herself.

"Why?" The single word stabbed at her heart.

"I thought I'd figured it out… Why you'd left it blank… I'm sorry…" she repeated, then cursed quietly under her breath. Damned hormones, she cursed again silently, as she felt the telltale tickle behind her eyes. He turned to his side to watch her.

"What is it you thought you'd figured out?" She gave a sharp shake of her head and remained infernally silent. "Lau-ra," he drawled her name, while easing her hand down off her face. She let out a puff of air, and averted her eyes.

"A reminder. That you were the man with no name. Each day you could create whatever life you wished, be whoever you wished, but none of those lives or names ever meant enough for you to keep." He trailed the back of two fingers down her cheek.

"You know me too well," he said softly. She turned to look at him and let out the breath she'd been holding when she saw it was not disappointment on his face, but stunned tenderness. "I'm afraid I'm a bit speechless. I've no idea what to say, except, thank you." Bending over her, he lay his lips against hers and let them linger, doing nothing more, yet the exquisite gentleness said all words couldn't. Her brown eyes blinked then held his.

"You're welcome," she answered, as quietly as he'd spoken. Remington rolled to his back and removed his ID bracelet from the jeweler box and stared at his name, now emblazoned there. It was odd, he reflected. He'd worn the bracelet daily, most of his adult life, yet when he believed it lost he'd given scant attention to the lack of weight at his wrist. That he'd given no thought to finally having it engraved was perhaps of more import: he was living the life he'd claimed for himself, reminders were no longer needed.

"Turn it over, sweetheart," she suggested.

He slanted his eyes to her, then returned them to the bracelet, doing just that… and rubbed a hand over his mouth, vaguely wondering why Laura seemed to be doing her damnedest on this trip to make a grown man cry as though her were still a lad in short pants. For inscribed on the other side were four words: Son Partner Husband Father.

He'd had every intention of soothing her to sleep that evening, so that she and, by way of her, their child, could get the rest they both seemed to require these days. But what's a man to do when his heart was slamming against the wall of his chest, and the words simply would not come? The man of deeds? Setting the bracelet to the side, he rolled to her and in one motion devoured her lips. Unlike years past, she understood the emotions guiding his actions, and while the fingers of one hand whispered across the skin of his bare back the other glided through his hair. He berated himself the inability to say the words he'd wanted to convey, to tell her that her gift represented everything she'd been responsible for him having. Instead, as his lips, teased, caressed, savored hers, there was only one word he was able to make pass his lips, but it was the word that had come to mean everything him so quickly nearly five years before.

"Laura," he uttered, voice gravelly with unstated emotion.

"I know, Remington, I do know," she assured him.

And the wonder of it all was that she did, even though the words were never spoken at all.