Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Passions. They belong to JER
and NBC. Kristina, Brad, and any other characters you do not recognize are
my own creations.
This is an idea that wouldn't let me go until I put it down on paper. Enjoy, lol.
Love Letters
Part One
Chapter 1
It was a hot day.
Wet and humid.
The windows of the beat-up old car were cracked. The air conditioner broken.
The moist air enveloped her, it's long arms wrapping around her body in an unwelcome embrace.
The car bumped and jostled along the winding, dusty road.
Trees passed in a green blur.
She rest her cheek against the headrest. Tired.
Already so tired.
It was just past ten on a Saturday morning. She shouldn't be this tired. And she wouldn't be. If it weren't for the thought of what lay ahead.
She was going home.
Revisiting her youth, she thought with a sardonic smile.
Long fingers twined through hers, and the smile became genuine at the sound of his deep voice.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Oh.nothing," she answered coyly.
A smile, equal parts amusement, equal parts frustration, lit upon his full lips, and his faded blue eyes twinkled at her. "And I thought your mother was the mysterious one," he teased.
Her lips curled into a thoughtful, sad smile, and she shook her head at him. "It's so hot," she said. To no one in particular as she rolled the window all the way down. Closing her eyes with a sigh at the sensation of the warm air caressing her face. A little better. But not much.
"I got the first shower," he told her.
She rolled her brown eyes. "We'll see about that," she muttered. "Anyway.it's MY house. I have say on who gets the first shower."
Turn left here.
The old Chase house on the right. Abandoned, it looked like, years and years ago. Probably not long after she and Mom left.
She wondered what had become of them. The Chases. Rachel was around her age. Maybe a bit younger.
"How much longer?" he asked. Hands gripping the steering wheel lightly as he chanced a glance her way. "God, Kristina." he mumbled. "What were you trying to escape from?" he asked as the car crawled deeper and deeper into the unknown.
Only a mile further. A mile. Maybe two. As close to civilization as her father dared live.
What WERE they trying to escape from?
She still didn't know, she thought bitterly.
"Are you sure we didn't take a wrong turn?" he questioned. "This looks more like some kind of wilderness reserve."
"Brad," she snapped impatiently. "I lived here most of my childhood. I was almost fourteen when Dad."
"Okay. Okay," he lay a soothing hand on her arm. "I'm sorry. Don't get."
"Brad," she shrugged his hand off.
"Kristina. I said I was sorry. Don't tell me you're going to."
"No, Brad," she shoved an impatient hand through her disheveled blond hair. "We're here. Home," the whisper died on her lips as she fumbled with the door for a few seconds, and slowly climbed out.
The overgrown stalks of grass tickled her bare thighs as she waded through the pale green sea, and she winced as she felt the tiny scrape of briars.
"Kristina," Brad's voice came from behind her. "I don't think you should.that place looks like it's going to collapse into itself."
The slight breeze caught her blond hair, making it flutter about her lovely face, and she turned glistening brown eyes on him. "Fine. You can spend the night in the car."
There was no fighting her once she set her heart or her mind on something, he realized.
And spending the entire night outside in the car did NOT sound appealing. At all.
The front steps creaked under her weight, and she stopped herself from grabbing onto the column for support.
Vines and vines of roses curled around the whitewashed columns on either side of her. Their sweet scent hanging heavily in the humid air. Bumblebees buzzed, flitting past her on their little wings.
He watched the smile blossom on her lips, watched her get lost in some great memory. "Kristina?"
Her fingers were warm against his as she took his hand. "Just remembering," she smiled. "My mother loved roses," she murmured.
The key turned in the lock easily, and the door opened with an annoyed groan.
Sunlight streamed in through bare windows, and his eyes picked out tiny particles of dust floating in the air, his nose wrinkling as his eyes watered.
White, ghostly sheets draped over musty furniture, and the room echoed with the sound of their careful footsteps.
Voices. Memories. She closed her eyes as she twirled slowly around, arms open.
The house was welcoming her home.
"Kristina."
There it was again. That note of concern in Brad's voice. The same note that had been there since Mom.
Affection and irritation warred for the upper hand, and in the end, the feelings of love she felt the man in front of her won out. "I'm fine, Brad. Really."
The relieved smile on his face only lasted a moment. "Kristina.where are you going?" he called after her, as she disappeared up the long, dangerous looking stairs leading to the second floor.
He wasn't clingy or obsessive or anything like that. Really. When a guy was fortunate enough to be blessed with a Kristina O'Leary in his life, he didn't take anything for granted.
She was perched on the edge of the bed. Pillow clutched to her chest, and shoulders shaking ever so slightly, until his arm went around them, and she leaned into him gratefully.
His blue eyes wandered over the walls. The nondescript wallpaper was peeling, stained in many places, but that wasn't what grabbed his interest.
It was the pictures.
Dozens and dozens of pictures. Clipped from magazines, newspapers, some actual photographs. Others posters. Tacked onto the walls.
The Eiffel Tower towering high, lit up against the Parisian sky. Santa Fe and its richness of color. The Bermuda coastline.
And another photo.
This one looked to be a small New England coastal town. Fairly common scene.
He wondered about its significance.
Pretty pictures he guessed spoke of Kristina's past. Or rather Kristina's parents' past. By her own admission, she'd led a fairly solitary life. Just her. Her mother. And her father.
The lacy white curtains flapped gently as she heaved the window pane open, and he came to stand behind her. Staring down at the overgrown grounds below.
They must have been very beautiful then.
Breath-taking.
Would the memories play a hand in their future?
In three days' time, he'd have an answer.
"What do you think?" he murmured as his lips brushed ever so gently against her ear, and she shivered at his closeness.
Kristina wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and sighed.
This place was hers now. All hers. All that was left of her past. Her last tie to her parents.
She closed her brown eyes against the sudden onslaught of emotions that threatened to make her lose her breath, the loneliness of being alone. "Brad," she stammered as she blinked back the sting of tears. "Could you."
"Sure," he smiled as he smoothed a hand over her tangled blond tresses and placed a careful kiss on her forehead.
She waved at him as he disappeared around the corner of the door, and the creaking of the ancient steps tracked his progress as he headed downstairs to claim their overnight bags.
The photographs, the memories called her name as she sank back against the worn old mattress with its little girl bedspread and faded pink pillows, and she could almost hear the lilting sound of her mother's voice as she wove magical tales about the pictures on the wall with a wistful smile upon her face and heartbreak in her blue eyes.
She didn't want this. She didn't want this weariness that came with remembering. She didn't want the ache that reminded her of their tumultuous twenty-year relationship, with its impossible highs. Highs when she clung to her mother and all she was to her-everything and nothing. And painful lows when she damned her mother's very existence for the hurt her father suffered at her hands.
She didn't want the memories of how he pined for what should have been his all the days of his life
She didn't want this.
But she couldn't walk away.
She just knew.
This house, with all its whispered secrets and haunting memories, held the key.
The key she needed to move on.
The key she needed to unlock the mystery of who Diana and Brian O'Leary really were, and why she, Kristina O'Leary, never really existed.
This is an idea that wouldn't let me go until I put it down on paper. Enjoy, lol.
Love Letters
Part One
Chapter 1
It was a hot day.
Wet and humid.
The windows of the beat-up old car were cracked. The air conditioner broken.
The moist air enveloped her, it's long arms wrapping around her body in an unwelcome embrace.
The car bumped and jostled along the winding, dusty road.
Trees passed in a green blur.
She rest her cheek against the headrest. Tired.
Already so tired.
It was just past ten on a Saturday morning. She shouldn't be this tired. And she wouldn't be. If it weren't for the thought of what lay ahead.
She was going home.
Revisiting her youth, she thought with a sardonic smile.
Long fingers twined through hers, and the smile became genuine at the sound of his deep voice.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Oh.nothing," she answered coyly.
A smile, equal parts amusement, equal parts frustration, lit upon his full lips, and his faded blue eyes twinkled at her. "And I thought your mother was the mysterious one," he teased.
Her lips curled into a thoughtful, sad smile, and she shook her head at him. "It's so hot," she said. To no one in particular as she rolled the window all the way down. Closing her eyes with a sigh at the sensation of the warm air caressing her face. A little better. But not much.
"I got the first shower," he told her.
She rolled her brown eyes. "We'll see about that," she muttered. "Anyway.it's MY house. I have say on who gets the first shower."
Turn left here.
The old Chase house on the right. Abandoned, it looked like, years and years ago. Probably not long after she and Mom left.
She wondered what had become of them. The Chases. Rachel was around her age. Maybe a bit younger.
"How much longer?" he asked. Hands gripping the steering wheel lightly as he chanced a glance her way. "God, Kristina." he mumbled. "What were you trying to escape from?" he asked as the car crawled deeper and deeper into the unknown.
Only a mile further. A mile. Maybe two. As close to civilization as her father dared live.
What WERE they trying to escape from?
She still didn't know, she thought bitterly.
"Are you sure we didn't take a wrong turn?" he questioned. "This looks more like some kind of wilderness reserve."
"Brad," she snapped impatiently. "I lived here most of my childhood. I was almost fourteen when Dad."
"Okay. Okay," he lay a soothing hand on her arm. "I'm sorry. Don't get."
"Brad," she shrugged his hand off.
"Kristina. I said I was sorry. Don't tell me you're going to."
"No, Brad," she shoved an impatient hand through her disheveled blond hair. "We're here. Home," the whisper died on her lips as she fumbled with the door for a few seconds, and slowly climbed out.
The overgrown stalks of grass tickled her bare thighs as she waded through the pale green sea, and she winced as she felt the tiny scrape of briars.
"Kristina," Brad's voice came from behind her. "I don't think you should.that place looks like it's going to collapse into itself."
The slight breeze caught her blond hair, making it flutter about her lovely face, and she turned glistening brown eyes on him. "Fine. You can spend the night in the car."
There was no fighting her once she set her heart or her mind on something, he realized.
And spending the entire night outside in the car did NOT sound appealing. At all.
The front steps creaked under her weight, and she stopped herself from grabbing onto the column for support.
Vines and vines of roses curled around the whitewashed columns on either side of her. Their sweet scent hanging heavily in the humid air. Bumblebees buzzed, flitting past her on their little wings.
He watched the smile blossom on her lips, watched her get lost in some great memory. "Kristina?"
Her fingers were warm against his as she took his hand. "Just remembering," she smiled. "My mother loved roses," she murmured.
The key turned in the lock easily, and the door opened with an annoyed groan.
Sunlight streamed in through bare windows, and his eyes picked out tiny particles of dust floating in the air, his nose wrinkling as his eyes watered.
White, ghostly sheets draped over musty furniture, and the room echoed with the sound of their careful footsteps.
Voices. Memories. She closed her eyes as she twirled slowly around, arms open.
The house was welcoming her home.
"Kristina."
There it was again. That note of concern in Brad's voice. The same note that had been there since Mom.
Affection and irritation warred for the upper hand, and in the end, the feelings of love she felt the man in front of her won out. "I'm fine, Brad. Really."
The relieved smile on his face only lasted a moment. "Kristina.where are you going?" he called after her, as she disappeared up the long, dangerous looking stairs leading to the second floor.
He wasn't clingy or obsessive or anything like that. Really. When a guy was fortunate enough to be blessed with a Kristina O'Leary in his life, he didn't take anything for granted.
She was perched on the edge of the bed. Pillow clutched to her chest, and shoulders shaking ever so slightly, until his arm went around them, and she leaned into him gratefully.
His blue eyes wandered over the walls. The nondescript wallpaper was peeling, stained in many places, but that wasn't what grabbed his interest.
It was the pictures.
Dozens and dozens of pictures. Clipped from magazines, newspapers, some actual photographs. Others posters. Tacked onto the walls.
The Eiffel Tower towering high, lit up against the Parisian sky. Santa Fe and its richness of color. The Bermuda coastline.
And another photo.
This one looked to be a small New England coastal town. Fairly common scene.
He wondered about its significance.
Pretty pictures he guessed spoke of Kristina's past. Or rather Kristina's parents' past. By her own admission, she'd led a fairly solitary life. Just her. Her mother. And her father.
The lacy white curtains flapped gently as she heaved the window pane open, and he came to stand behind her. Staring down at the overgrown grounds below.
They must have been very beautiful then.
Breath-taking.
Would the memories play a hand in their future?
In three days' time, he'd have an answer.
"What do you think?" he murmured as his lips brushed ever so gently against her ear, and she shivered at his closeness.
Kristina wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and sighed.
This place was hers now. All hers. All that was left of her past. Her last tie to her parents.
She closed her brown eyes against the sudden onslaught of emotions that threatened to make her lose her breath, the loneliness of being alone. "Brad," she stammered as she blinked back the sting of tears. "Could you."
"Sure," he smiled as he smoothed a hand over her tangled blond tresses and placed a careful kiss on her forehead.
She waved at him as he disappeared around the corner of the door, and the creaking of the ancient steps tracked his progress as he headed downstairs to claim their overnight bags.
The photographs, the memories called her name as she sank back against the worn old mattress with its little girl bedspread and faded pink pillows, and she could almost hear the lilting sound of her mother's voice as she wove magical tales about the pictures on the wall with a wistful smile upon her face and heartbreak in her blue eyes.
She didn't want this. She didn't want this weariness that came with remembering. She didn't want the ache that reminded her of their tumultuous twenty-year relationship, with its impossible highs. Highs when she clung to her mother and all she was to her-everything and nothing. And painful lows when she damned her mother's very existence for the hurt her father suffered at her hands.
She didn't want the memories of how he pined for what should have been his all the days of his life
She didn't want this.
But she couldn't walk away.
She just knew.
This house, with all its whispered secrets and haunting memories, held the key.
The key she needed to move on.
The key she needed to unlock the mystery of who Diana and Brian O'Leary really were, and why she, Kristina O'Leary, never really existed.