Ok, I do not own any of the characters portrayed here, i'm only borrowing
them for a wee while. No profit is made. Let me know what you think of
this, I'm not sure whether or not to continue with it. Thanks for your
kind reviews in my other story's so far. Without them this wouldn't be
here.
An Ordinary life
Claire Haining
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It had been something she had both feared and anticipated for eighteen years, and since her mothers passing she had made it her life's mission to seek him out. Now three months later she really didn't think she would be standing on the front steps of his home. It had seemed an impossible feat, something to help her get through the grief of her mothers early passing and keep her mind from burying itself in the blackness that was her past. This was the future. She hoped. The dark mahogany door that was at arms reach suddenly seemed too close, too claustrophobic, and an attack of fear and nervousness caused her to back away a step, she quickly looked around her and spotted an inviting bench not far from the looming house. She needed time to collect her thoughts before she ended eighteen years of wonder, and so hiking her heavy backpack onto her back once again, made her way across the busy plaza, sitting down with a thump onto the wooden seat.
Florence was beautiful she had to admit, and she could easily see why he would choose such a city to settle down in. If you could call it that she mused. Having never left her beloved city of New York for more than a day, she was surprised that she didn't miss it. She had no one there that she would label a close friend and certainly no one she was attached to. It hadn't been as difficult as she imagined it would be to find him. It was scary actually when she thought about it. But, she mused, she had inside knowledge. With a smile she remembered the first time she had found out who exactly her father was. Her mother had been sitting at the kitchen table, she remembered fondly, skimming through the morning papers with her cup of strong coffee, as was the normal everyday way of things in the McKenzie family home. She remembered she had lost her English paper due in that day and was frantically pulling the cushions out from the sofa when her mom had called her name. Groaning she had abandoned her search temporarily, and with all the hormonal flair of a fourteen year old had stomped her way to the kitchen, muttering upon entering " What!"
She found herself laughing slightly at the memory of her mothers face. Calm and composed she had given her one of her looks, this one meant sit down, shut-up and stop acting like a baby. She remembered sitting down on the opposite high backed chair, the smell of coffee making her smile. Her mother had been looking at her hands when she finally spoke; her usual confident tone replaced with one that sounded alien to her.
" Emily I want to talk to you…about your father"
She remembered blinking stupidly for a few seconds, her brow creasing, and her thoughts swirling in her mind. Her mother had always refused to speak about her father, it was a no-go conversation, always had been, and although she found it disappointing and sometimes infuriating she never pressed the subject, always seeing the pained look in her mothers eyes. She decided she didn't trust her voice and so numbly nodded her consent to continue, her body tingling with something she didn't understand at the time.
Her mother had looked up then, and the pained look that usually accompanied the beginnings of a conversation that never happened about her mysterious dad, wasn't there. There was a far away look in its place.
" Fourteen years ago I was still living in Chicago, I didn't have much money as I had just left medical school and was looking for a job. I didn't have much in the way of experience and was finding it hard to get into a decent practise, so out of sheer desperation I started working as a waitress in a small café. The money wasn't great but it was enough to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach. That's were I met your dad."
She paused, looking somewhere over my shoulder, and just as it stretched beyond the comfortable; I remember she started speaking again causing me to jump.
" He was a regular customer, coming in the same time early every morning, having the same thing every day. No one paid much attention to him, he sat quietly in the corner, looking out the window, or reading the morning paper. I was usually in on the late shift, but Sam the owner had asked me to work the extra hours and I was in no position to deny him. I came in on the morning shift, six am sharp. I remember I had been up all night studying the classifieds, looking for a position in a small practise, and was not looking my best when I made an appearance." She smiled fondly, obviously remembering the details.
" The first thing that stuck me when I went to take his order, was his eyes. He had the most amazing eyes I had ever seen, and I remember it took me a minute to compose myself and finally ask what he wanted. He looked up at me and in a velvet voice, like nothing i've ever heard since, told me his usual order, making it sound like he was reciting poetry. I couldn't concentrate the rest of the day, my stubborn mind replaying the event over and over. At the end of my shift I asked Sam if there was any way I could have permanent morning shift. He laughed at me and asked me if I was crazy. He usually had to threaten people's jobs to get them on the early, and that was when I started seeing your father every day."
"He came and went for over two weeks without so much as a word outside his order and his please and thank-you's. He was always very courteous. I almost dyed when he asked me to join him for dinner. He was always so sophisticated looking, with his designer suits and big tips. He was a few years older than me, but I didn't care, I had become smitten with him and agreed readily. He took me too a posh resteraunt, bought expensive wine and champagne, and I told him about medical school, my life in general up to that point. He was so easy to talk to; I guess I should have guessed then. It turned out that he was a psychiatrist, a brilliant one at that. I remember feeling slightly intimidated by him, when I took the time that night to look him up. Three weeks later and two more dates, he offered me a position at his practise. I couldn't believe it; it was dreams come true. A week later I found myself sitting in a comfy leather chair behind an obviously expensive table, looking over case notes of the new patients I had. He was always there if I found myself worried or struggling, and before long I woke up one morning and realised I was in love"
A noisy crowd of Japanese tourists broke her out of her reverie, and she looked around quickly, her eyes landing on the mahogany door. She sighed deeply, sinking into the hard bench deeper. She was amazed at how vividly she remembered the conversation with her mother. She knew she had a good memory; it had helped her leave top of her history class in college. She closed her eyes slowly, letting the noise around her slip away as she fell back into her memory, as she had done so many times before. She remembered when her mother had paused again she had been sitting on the edge of her seat, wanting to scream at her mom to continue, to say him name, anything. She jumped again when her mother spoke, her voice was slightly deeper now, her eyes a little sadder.
" I didn't tell anyone I was seeing your dad and I don't think he did either, we continued dating, he bought me lavish gifts and showed me the city's hidden treasures. It was the most wonderful time of my life, I had never been happier. I had a great job, had bought myself a lovely apartment, and was dating one of the most handsome, interesting, educated man I had ever met."
She stopped, her voice cracking a little. I remember the single tear that left a watery track on her left cheek.
" Two weeks later he disappeared. I hadn't heard from him for a few days and he had left a note saying he wouldn't be at work, he was taking a holiday. It was all so strange. It wasn't that he didn't tell me; he was a mysterious man, always keeping a certain amount of distance. It wasn't a great surprise that he just up and left, he liked his own space. A week later I found out that I was pregnant with you. I was so happy, I had always wanted a family and I couldn't wait to tell him."
Her bottom lip quivered, and her hands were shaking. I remember being so scared, a thousand questions stinging the end of my tongue. Was he dead?
" I was sitting alone in my apartment about a week later, depressed and angry. I thought that somehow he had found out and didn't want to return to me, or that he had found someone else. I knew deep down that neither could be true, he wasn't the kind of man to cheat, he would probably find it rude and there was no way he could know I was pregnant, I hadn't told a soul. I was idly flicking through the channels when my whole world came crashing down. The news special was on and a picture of your fathers face was filling the screen. Your father is Dr Hannibal Lector."
1 Chapter two
Opening her eyes again, she swung her backpack to the ground. Unzipping the side pocket she unwrapped the small brown paper bag and lifted the cream folded piece of paper and held it delicately in her small hands. Opening it out she ignored the passers-by and begun to read the elegant handwriting. She had lost count how many times she had read it over the years.
My dear Catherine,
I write this letter with a heavy heart, knowing the conflicting emotions that must be etched across your face, I am somewhat to blame for. It has been many years since the last time we spoke Catherine, and I find myself remorseful that we shant ever again. I will not be so bold as to explain what it is you are feeling, i'm sure you know all too well. I will not apologise for my actions, nor will I explain them. I'm sorry I couldn't be in contact sooner my dear Catherine, but i'm sure you understand why. I hope that our time together resides somewhere happy in your heart, I know that it is true in my case. I find that I must thank-you for your silence, whether it was for your own benefit or my own, it was appreciated.
I hope you have moved on with your life Catherine, you are an intelligent, charming and beautiful woman, making the world a better place with you in it. Which leads me to this, I will not call upon you now I have my freedom back you needn't worry, I hope you extend me the same courtesy. You have my best wishes for the future, wherever that may take you.
Yours truly,
Hannibal Lector M.D
She neatly folded the letter and placed it back in the rucksack. She remembered her mother consoling her as she processed the information, the endless tears they had both shed over the following days. It was then she swore to herself that one day she would meet her father, whether it would lead to the beginnings of a new life or the end, it was a chance she was willing to make. She never told her mother what her secret was. So it was the only thing she could think of after her mother had died to do. She looked back at the door. She wouldn't pretend to herself that she wasn't scared to meet him. After finding out who he was she had researched everything she could get her hands on, and it had left her with a healthy amount of fear for the man. But, she thought to her self, her jaw set, I didn't come all this way to turn back, and more sadly, I don't have anything to go back for.
An Ordinary life
Claire Haining
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It had been something she had both feared and anticipated for eighteen years, and since her mothers passing she had made it her life's mission to seek him out. Now three months later she really didn't think she would be standing on the front steps of his home. It had seemed an impossible feat, something to help her get through the grief of her mothers early passing and keep her mind from burying itself in the blackness that was her past. This was the future. She hoped. The dark mahogany door that was at arms reach suddenly seemed too close, too claustrophobic, and an attack of fear and nervousness caused her to back away a step, she quickly looked around her and spotted an inviting bench not far from the looming house. She needed time to collect her thoughts before she ended eighteen years of wonder, and so hiking her heavy backpack onto her back once again, made her way across the busy plaza, sitting down with a thump onto the wooden seat.
Florence was beautiful she had to admit, and she could easily see why he would choose such a city to settle down in. If you could call it that she mused. Having never left her beloved city of New York for more than a day, she was surprised that she didn't miss it. She had no one there that she would label a close friend and certainly no one she was attached to. It hadn't been as difficult as she imagined it would be to find him. It was scary actually when she thought about it. But, she mused, she had inside knowledge. With a smile she remembered the first time she had found out who exactly her father was. Her mother had been sitting at the kitchen table, she remembered fondly, skimming through the morning papers with her cup of strong coffee, as was the normal everyday way of things in the McKenzie family home. She remembered she had lost her English paper due in that day and was frantically pulling the cushions out from the sofa when her mom had called her name. Groaning she had abandoned her search temporarily, and with all the hormonal flair of a fourteen year old had stomped her way to the kitchen, muttering upon entering " What!"
She found herself laughing slightly at the memory of her mothers face. Calm and composed she had given her one of her looks, this one meant sit down, shut-up and stop acting like a baby. She remembered sitting down on the opposite high backed chair, the smell of coffee making her smile. Her mother had been looking at her hands when she finally spoke; her usual confident tone replaced with one that sounded alien to her.
" Emily I want to talk to you…about your father"
She remembered blinking stupidly for a few seconds, her brow creasing, and her thoughts swirling in her mind. Her mother had always refused to speak about her father, it was a no-go conversation, always had been, and although she found it disappointing and sometimes infuriating she never pressed the subject, always seeing the pained look in her mothers eyes. She decided she didn't trust her voice and so numbly nodded her consent to continue, her body tingling with something she didn't understand at the time.
Her mother had looked up then, and the pained look that usually accompanied the beginnings of a conversation that never happened about her mysterious dad, wasn't there. There was a far away look in its place.
" Fourteen years ago I was still living in Chicago, I didn't have much money as I had just left medical school and was looking for a job. I didn't have much in the way of experience and was finding it hard to get into a decent practise, so out of sheer desperation I started working as a waitress in a small café. The money wasn't great but it was enough to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach. That's were I met your dad."
She paused, looking somewhere over my shoulder, and just as it stretched beyond the comfortable; I remember she started speaking again causing me to jump.
" He was a regular customer, coming in the same time early every morning, having the same thing every day. No one paid much attention to him, he sat quietly in the corner, looking out the window, or reading the morning paper. I was usually in on the late shift, but Sam the owner had asked me to work the extra hours and I was in no position to deny him. I came in on the morning shift, six am sharp. I remember I had been up all night studying the classifieds, looking for a position in a small practise, and was not looking my best when I made an appearance." She smiled fondly, obviously remembering the details.
" The first thing that stuck me when I went to take his order, was his eyes. He had the most amazing eyes I had ever seen, and I remember it took me a minute to compose myself and finally ask what he wanted. He looked up at me and in a velvet voice, like nothing i've ever heard since, told me his usual order, making it sound like he was reciting poetry. I couldn't concentrate the rest of the day, my stubborn mind replaying the event over and over. At the end of my shift I asked Sam if there was any way I could have permanent morning shift. He laughed at me and asked me if I was crazy. He usually had to threaten people's jobs to get them on the early, and that was when I started seeing your father every day."
"He came and went for over two weeks without so much as a word outside his order and his please and thank-you's. He was always very courteous. I almost dyed when he asked me to join him for dinner. He was always so sophisticated looking, with his designer suits and big tips. He was a few years older than me, but I didn't care, I had become smitten with him and agreed readily. He took me too a posh resteraunt, bought expensive wine and champagne, and I told him about medical school, my life in general up to that point. He was so easy to talk to; I guess I should have guessed then. It turned out that he was a psychiatrist, a brilliant one at that. I remember feeling slightly intimidated by him, when I took the time that night to look him up. Three weeks later and two more dates, he offered me a position at his practise. I couldn't believe it; it was dreams come true. A week later I found myself sitting in a comfy leather chair behind an obviously expensive table, looking over case notes of the new patients I had. He was always there if I found myself worried or struggling, and before long I woke up one morning and realised I was in love"
A noisy crowd of Japanese tourists broke her out of her reverie, and she looked around quickly, her eyes landing on the mahogany door. She sighed deeply, sinking into the hard bench deeper. She was amazed at how vividly she remembered the conversation with her mother. She knew she had a good memory; it had helped her leave top of her history class in college. She closed her eyes slowly, letting the noise around her slip away as she fell back into her memory, as she had done so many times before. She remembered when her mother had paused again she had been sitting on the edge of her seat, wanting to scream at her mom to continue, to say him name, anything. She jumped again when her mother spoke, her voice was slightly deeper now, her eyes a little sadder.
" I didn't tell anyone I was seeing your dad and I don't think he did either, we continued dating, he bought me lavish gifts and showed me the city's hidden treasures. It was the most wonderful time of my life, I had never been happier. I had a great job, had bought myself a lovely apartment, and was dating one of the most handsome, interesting, educated man I had ever met."
She stopped, her voice cracking a little. I remember the single tear that left a watery track on her left cheek.
" Two weeks later he disappeared. I hadn't heard from him for a few days and he had left a note saying he wouldn't be at work, he was taking a holiday. It was all so strange. It wasn't that he didn't tell me; he was a mysterious man, always keeping a certain amount of distance. It wasn't a great surprise that he just up and left, he liked his own space. A week later I found out that I was pregnant with you. I was so happy, I had always wanted a family and I couldn't wait to tell him."
Her bottom lip quivered, and her hands were shaking. I remember being so scared, a thousand questions stinging the end of my tongue. Was he dead?
" I was sitting alone in my apartment about a week later, depressed and angry. I thought that somehow he had found out and didn't want to return to me, or that he had found someone else. I knew deep down that neither could be true, he wasn't the kind of man to cheat, he would probably find it rude and there was no way he could know I was pregnant, I hadn't told a soul. I was idly flicking through the channels when my whole world came crashing down. The news special was on and a picture of your fathers face was filling the screen. Your father is Dr Hannibal Lector."
1 Chapter two
Opening her eyes again, she swung her backpack to the ground. Unzipping the side pocket she unwrapped the small brown paper bag and lifted the cream folded piece of paper and held it delicately in her small hands. Opening it out she ignored the passers-by and begun to read the elegant handwriting. She had lost count how many times she had read it over the years.
My dear Catherine,
I write this letter with a heavy heart, knowing the conflicting emotions that must be etched across your face, I am somewhat to blame for. It has been many years since the last time we spoke Catherine, and I find myself remorseful that we shant ever again. I will not be so bold as to explain what it is you are feeling, i'm sure you know all too well. I will not apologise for my actions, nor will I explain them. I'm sorry I couldn't be in contact sooner my dear Catherine, but i'm sure you understand why. I hope that our time together resides somewhere happy in your heart, I know that it is true in my case. I find that I must thank-you for your silence, whether it was for your own benefit or my own, it was appreciated.
I hope you have moved on with your life Catherine, you are an intelligent, charming and beautiful woman, making the world a better place with you in it. Which leads me to this, I will not call upon you now I have my freedom back you needn't worry, I hope you extend me the same courtesy. You have my best wishes for the future, wherever that may take you.
Yours truly,
Hannibal Lector M.D
She neatly folded the letter and placed it back in the rucksack. She remembered her mother consoling her as she processed the information, the endless tears they had both shed over the following days. It was then she swore to herself that one day she would meet her father, whether it would lead to the beginnings of a new life or the end, it was a chance she was willing to make. She never told her mother what her secret was. So it was the only thing she could think of after her mother had died to do. She looked back at the door. She wouldn't pretend to herself that she wasn't scared to meet him. After finding out who he was she had researched everything she could get her hands on, and it had left her with a healthy amount of fear for the man. But, she thought to her self, her jaw set, I didn't come all this way to turn back, and more sadly, I don't have anything to go back for.