44 From this day Forward
The church was small and intimate; Amanda and Ron had attended it together when their time off coincided and both CJ and Dion had gone to holiday and after-school clubs there. The priest was a young man of about thirty-five, Donald Milliner; he was blonde, with blue eyes and at least six foot eight tall. His presence was awe inspiring most of the time, but as he stood at the front of the church waiting, with the rest of the congregation, for Amanda and her father to arrive he looked almost inspirational.
Steve stood next to Ron looking at the bridesmaids and pageboys. He felt a movement beside him turned a little and noticed that his friend was sweating, and moving from one foot to the other, and he smiled. "Nervous, huh?"
"Oh yeah, you noticed?" Ron glanced round as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Hey, I'm a cop, it's what I do." Steve smiled at him again, hoping that he could reassure a man who had only appeared nervous to him once before, and he had been standing on a bomb at the time.
"And I'm a fed, so why does standing here waiting for the woman I love more than any other living person make me … oh my, God." Ron stopped talking, the words catching in his throat as he caught sight of his bride-to-be entering the church.
Steve knew that Mrs Bentley and Jo had seen Amanda's dress, but no one else. She had wanted a proper wedding, with all the trimmings, and he guessed that after the debacle of a ceremony when she had wed Colin he could understand why.
The dress seemed to have a sort of soft ethereal glow around it, and even to his untrained eye he knew it was beautiful and expensive. "See, I told you she would look like a million dollars." He heard Jo as she stage whispered towards him from the second row of the congregation and he looked at her, in his eyes no bride would ever surpass her, and even when she was gardening she looked at least that much to him.
A ripple of excitement and anticipation had seemed to pass through the church and Jo had to wipe away the tears as she saw Eliana and Anneya walking slowly towards the altar, each little girl holding the hand of one of Amanda and Ron's sons'. Both CJ and Dion were wearing black suits with silver grey waistcoats underneath, the same as their new daddy and their grandpa, as well as Mark and Steve. The four children had proudly taken their designated places and then the whole congregation seemed to hold its breath waiting for the bride.
Jo cast her eyes around the other people in the church and enjoyed their looks of appreciation and the ooh's and aah's that accompanied Amanda's journey down the aisle. The dress, a beautiful ivory silk, had a basque waistline; the skirt was tulle, slightly flared and gave the dress a breathtaking quality as the light caught it. The bodice was covered in intricate beading which also caught the light, but this time from the candles that were burning in ornate holders at the end of each pew. None of this though was as beautiful, or radiant as Amanda's face, which could be seen through the veil that covered it, and Jo felt the tears well up as her friend passed by her and stood beside the man she loved.
As Jo watched the wedding unfold in front of her she could see that the flowers in Eliana's hair were still in place, and the band that she had fixed firmly with grips looked beautiful with Anneya's blonde hair around it. Their dresses, also ivory in colour, but with small flowers all over them had little puffed sleeves, and full skirts with large bows on the backs. The effect was completed by white lacy ankle socks and ballet pumps and each little girl had a small basket filled with flowers. Jo took the hand of Mark who was sitting next to her, and squeezed it, she could see the love and pride shining in his eyes as he watched one of his closest friends get married, but she knew that it was also for Steve, as he began his public best man duties looking so dashing and handsome that for a moment Jo couldn't take her eyes off him.
Jesse trained the video camera on his girls and continued to record them. He had slipped into the church just in front of Amanda having filmed them both at her house before the wedding party set off, and then again outside the church as photos were being taken. He wanted to capture every second of the day and when he rushed home to Rae, so that Alex could attend the reception, he could show her how everything had gone. It had almost broken his heart, and hers when she realised that there was no way that she was going to be able to attend the ceremony and see their daughters being bridesmaids together for the first time and he wanted to make sure that he missed none of it for her.
ooo
The pages of the letter caught the winter breeze which was blowing in through the slightly open window and with a sigh Michael got to his feet and moved across the small, crowded room to close it.
London in December had never been his favourite place, and he longed for the Californian sun, the warmth it effortlessly spread through his bones, the clear, cloudless skies, the bustle filled markets and streets and he sighed again. Christmas would be spent here, there was no way he would get back in time, and he wondered, not for the first time, how his family were coping without him. His family, he had always thought of them as such, but now, in the darkness of the night he realised that they had been far more to him than he had ever wanted to know.
He knew that Miss Josephine had been reading letters and communications from her grandmother ever since she began working her way through the attic in Beverly Hills and then in Texas. What he hadn't known, couldn't have known, was that in his mother's effects would be letters for him too.
Michael had never been close to his mother, and had left home at sixteen. He had worked in three of the top London stores ending up in Harrods in the men's wear department. But at the age of twenty-four he had enrolled in a butlering school, completing the course with flying colours. He worked in the private residence of the American ambassador in London as an under-butler until the time came for the diplomat to be recalled to Washington. Michael had been asked to accompany him and he had accepted, travelling on to California with him where he had lived ever since.
Miss Josephine's grandmother had sought him out, he had never really tried to find out why, and taken him on, at an extraordinary salary which he had to admit had been the sole reason for him taking the job. As a young man of twenty-eight he had hoped for work in the homes of film stars or singers, not a wealthy but exceptionally strong-willed Texan woman and her husband. Mrs Walters hadn't lived in Beverly Hills for the whole year, but he had. While the couple were in Texas he had kept the household running, there had been a cook employed and maids then, three of them, plus a full time gardener and two part-time assistants and he had been in charge of the entire staff. Gradually though they had all left and not been replaced, and by the time that he had been working for Mrs Walters for ten years it was just himself and the old lady. She had offered to let him leave, even gone so far as writing out glowing references for him, but he had realised that whilst it might not have been his dream job, working for Florence Walters was a pleasure, he was always kept on his toes, and life was never dull. He had refused her offer, and never regretted it, although sometimes he did let his mind wander across to the Hollywood Hills and the world famous movie stars who were hiring butlers and personal assistants to help run their lives for them and wondered whether he would have been so content.
Michael stared at the letter in front of him and groaned. It wasn't a sound that any of his acquaintances would associate him with, far too emotional a response, and he shook his head, all he had were acquaintances, and right now he really needed a friend. Someone he could confide in, knowing that nothing that he said would be repeated, and although he knew that he could call any number of his employers' friends and they would happily help him, he didn't want to put pressure on them to keep secret something he knew he would have to own up to before too long anyway.
His mother had died just two days earlier, the funeral was going to be held between the Christmas and New Year holidays, and so he was stuck here, staying in his late mother's small, overly crowded flat and feeling guilty for wishing that he was anyplace but where he was. Not knowing what else to do he picked up the letter, and began to read it through once again.
Dear Michael,
I am wondering as I write this whether you will ever read it, but I have to be positive and so I will tell myself that you will, one day soon, see the words I am about to write, the words that I was never able to bring myself to tell you in person.
I sincerely hope that you have carried on living in my house in Beverly Hills, I know that you will be aware of the provision I made for you in my will, I want you to be there for Josephine, and I know that you always intended for that to happen.
Michael, I know that we were together a long time and had very few secrets from each other, but there was always one thing which I couldn't share with you.
With this letter is a copy of your birth certificate, I know you have the original, and a letter, I guess the rest is self-explanatory. I hunted you down, Michael, I needed to find you, and in doing so I also found the best friend and companion I could have ever asked for. I corresponded with your mother for a great number of years, if she did as I asked then the letters will all be stored somewhere. I will have been dead only a short time as you read this, I hope you will forgive me for what I kept from you, and cherish our time together as I have done.
Your friend always,
Florence WaltersMichael shook his head, first of all as he read the letter through he had wondered why Mrs Walters would have a copy of his birth certificate, then he wondered why she would have sought him out, and finally why she thought she would have been dead only a short time, when in fact it was over five years since her passing.
It hadn't taken long to search through his mother's flat, the box of letters had been on top of the wardrobe in her bedroom, a shoe box, tied around with string, full of letters with a California postmark along with one, handwritten by his own mother, which had at least answered one of his questions.
Michael,
I should have sent these to you a long time ago, but I couldn't bring myself to, even though she asked me to post them to you as soon as she died. You were my miracle child, at the time I didn't think I would ever have the chance to have another, but of course, your brother was born five years after you. I kept telling myself that what had happened wouldn't change things, but I knew in my heart that it would have, had to have, an effect on you.
I was young, Michael, not very attractive, at least I didn't think so, and he was so dashing, so handsome, and that accent, oh I could have listened to him talk for hours, I told him once, 'Charlie, I would listen to you recite the 'phone book if you'll just keep talking.' He laughed, and then he didn't say a word, not for about an hour. He was a wonderful man, Charles Walters, and he was your father.
When you told me who you were working for out in California I nearly died on the spot, I didn't know what to do. I worried and worried about it for days, weeks even, but in the end I just had to know and I wrote to her, asking if she knew who you were. I never thought I would have to write such a difficult letter ever again, I was wrong; I'm having to write this one.
She wrote back, the letter is in this box, right at the bottom, yes, she said, she knew who you were, and who I was. Charles, she never called him Charlie, had talked about me when he got home, but he was married. Michael, he never told me that, but she told me they had no children, not when you were born. I should have told you when you were a boy, but I didn't. I knew they had money, not that I wanted any of it, but you might have. You might have left me, gone to live with them and I couldn't let that happen, but in the end, no matter what I did, you lived with them anyway.
Your mistress, his mother had crossed the word through but still he could see it, your boss, now, Miss Josephine as you call her, she is your sister, I would hear you tell me of the things that she did, how delighted you were when she got married, how honoured you had been to prepare the wedding breakfast for them, and still I couldn't send the letters on to you, you were working for your own sister, and you never knew. You should have been a guest, not a servant.
Please, Michael, please don't hate me, I have loved you so much my whole life, even though I have seen so little of you. I always hoped you would invite me out there, so I could see where you were and what you did and meet the family who were yours, but you never did, and now, as you read this it will be too late. I know that I will never be brave enough to send these to you, but neither will I destroy them, once I am gone you will find them, and I hope that you will forgive me for what I have done.
Lots of love
Mum
ooo
There was definitely going to be a party, he could see that from all the coming and going from the Walters house to that of the Travis's two doors down. She had been so easy to investigate; the newspaper articles alone filled three folders in his rented apartment. English, pretty, if you liked that type, which he didn't, clever as a box of snakes, a good cop, no one had anything bad to say about her working attitude, and he had tried, but there was nothing that made her out to be anything but hard working, conscientious, nice. He shuddered, he didn't do nice, he didn't like nice, and he didn't like her.
In a way it was a shame he wasn't after her, but who knew what might happen, she had been injured, again, she would be easy prey. Then, of course, there was her husband, cheerful to the point of strangulation. Always seeing the good side of everyone and everything, again he'd been doing his research, carefully, the man was also very nervous right now, been ill from what he'd heard, and so he'd had to tread very lightly.
They'd separated for a while there, and he'd lost sight of the doctor. But he was back, all lovey-dovey with his wife, obviously making up for lost time, although to look at her right now she didn't seem able to make it through a day, let alone host the party which he had been watching the preparations for over the last couple of days.
First of all there had been the wedding, the phone calls back and forth from Josephine to her friend Amanda, and that husband of hers, Steve, to his friend, Ron, he needed to be careful there, the man was a fed. He had heard it all, the details of the dress, what they would be eating at the reception, and then on the day the news that the English woman wouldn't be going, that her doctor would stay with her so that her husband could take movies of the great event. Please! He blew a stream of smoke out of the car window and then raised it again. It was time for him to be getting back to his place, he had a pile of mail to go through, the stuff which should put the last few nails in the Walters coffin, at least that was the way they'd planned it, and so far it was going exactly according to that plan.
"Honey, will you stop it? I'm havin' a ball, I'm enjoyin' myself no end, an' when Christmas Eve comes around tomorrow I will be takin' part just like everyone else." Jo's eyes were dancing and it was clear that she was speaking the truth.
"I just … it was supposed to be my thank you." Rae looked down at her feet, she knew that whatever she said would sound ungrateful, and she wasn't, not at all, her friends did so much for her, had done so much lately, and all she had wanted to do was organise a Christmas party, she had promised Anneya that Santa would come and call, and she hadn't even been able to arrange that part of it.
"Rae, you know that every little thin' that we do for you an' your family is because we want to. You would do the same for us an' not expect anythin' in return, but when it is you on the receivin' end, well…"
"Then that's different." Rae smiled and leant forward to kiss her friend on the cheek. The movement caused her to grimace in pain, but she was determined to do what she had set out to and so she didn't let it stop her.
"Hey, careful, I don't want to get in trouble with Alex, I heard him tell you off remember!"
Rae nodded, she did remember, only too well, how Alex had actually raised his voice to her, twice, on the day of Amanda's wedding, and as she did so the scene came up in her mind's eye.
"Jesse, come quickly, I need you." Rae had been aware of her friend as she called for her husband, and the worry in her daughter's voice as she held onto her hand.
"Mommy, Daddy mend it, make it better."
She had been unable to answer, to do anything, and so she had just stayed where she was in one of the spare bedrooms and hoped that she wouldn't pass out.
Texas had taken Eliana to have a shower and her hair washed before she braided it for her. Rae, who had come up the stairs carefully with them, had watched them go into the nursery bathroom with such a heavy heart that she felt it might crash to the floor and break. The feelings of total uselessness and futility were almost overwhelming and she had sat in the chair on the upstairs landing catching her breath and wishing that she could either help in some way or was still in the hospital so she wouldn't know what was going on.
Slowly and carefully she had got to her feet, realising that there was something she could do to help. When Texas had brought the girls home from their final dress fittings the previous evening, they had been allowed to show the outfits to their mom. The two clothes bags were in the spare bedroom closet, she would get them, it would be another job done, and she would at least have contributed something to the day.
The door had seemed stiffer than she remembered and the pole across the middle of the wardrobe definitely higher. The first dress, inside its plastic cover, had been difficult to reach, but she had done it, the second one had moved as she grabbed for it, resulting in a sharp pain radiating across her chest that caused her to collapse to the ground gasping for air.
"Rae? Honey, are you alright?" She could hear her friend, but she had been unable to get enough breath to call out and so she had laid, in pain, unable to catch her breath, the room swimming around her, "Jesse, come quickly, I need you." Rae had seen the horror in her friend's eyes as she realised that Jesse had gone to see Steve, calling out to Texas, and kissing his wife on the cheek as she sat on the landing.
"I'll call him." The cell phone was in her hand as she spoke, and Rae knew that Jesse would fly back. "He says to call Alex, do you have his number?"
She still had been unable to do anything except gasp, the pain was all encompassing, but she had pointed to her pocket and Texas had taken her cell phone out, found Alex's number and called him.
"Of all the stupid things to do! Rae, you were shot, it punctured your lung, you were operated on, you got an infection, and you are standing on tippy toe to get a dress out of a closet! I should take you back to Community General right now and strap you down!" Alex's voice had got louder as he spoke and as he had shouted at her she had known that he was right.
"I'm … I'm sorry, Alex. I just wanted to help." She had been lying on the bed in the spare room closest to the nursery; Texas and Jesse had been unwilling to move her to the master bedroom. There was an oxygen cylinder by her side, and a mask on her face, which she lifted to speak.
"Well, doctor's orders, no wedding …"
"No, Alex, please, don't…"
"Rae, I'm sorry, but you knew that this was going to be a big day for your family. You should have done nothing more than sit and rest until someone came with the wheelchair to take you to the car for the ride to the church. You have only been home two days; there is no way you can go this afternoon, not unless you want to spoil their day."
"But … but you said …" She had been so pleased when Alex had released her from the hospital in time for the wedding, but it hadn't been the right thing to say.
"I said you could go, I know I did, and you could have, if you had taken it easy, and not made it worse, but did you? Oh no, not you, you have to go clambering around in closets, Rae, being shot is bad enough, but you got an infection, you nearly died, you cannot bounce back just because you want to, ok? The result is no wedding, and an afternoon with me watching over you so at least someone can go see your daughters' big moment." Alex's voice had risen again, and she had tried to answer him.
"I'm sorry …" She hadn't been able to continue, the tears had welled up in her eyes, and the fear of the pain they would cause hadn't been enough to stop them falling until, in the end, she had collapsed back on the bed, exhausted, knowing that not only had she deserved Alex's outburst but that she would be staying where she was for the foreseeable future.
ooo
The phone was ringing as he unlocked the door to the crummy apartment he had rented and he picked it up as he dropped his things onto the couch. "Yeah … oh, it's you … I have them, well, I know you can't, not without lookin' totally suspicious … why, darlin' don't you trust me?" He laughed, trust wasn't a big thing between them, but then in the end as long as he was paid he didn't care whether they became buddy-buddy or not.
"What? Well, no, I didn't realise that." He paused for effect before speaking again, the sarcasm dripping from his words. "Of course I know that, I used to be a cop remember?" Stupid, broad. "Honey, when this is over you won't have to ever speak to me again … yeah, well it'll be too soon for me too." He dropped the phone back on its cradle, moved over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer from the door. Then picking up the mail again he sat at the table and began to read.
ooo
Michael had sat looking at his mother's letter for a long time, the tears, which had surprised him, had gone, but he was left with a void which he knew could have been filled many years before if only he had let it.
The second letter from Florence Walters was on top of his birth certificate and, almost not wanting to but unable to stop himself, he reached out and picked it up.
My dear Michael,
My son was a weak man, given to impulsive actions, leading to long-lasting unforeseen consequences. But he was in his way an honourable man, and he always felt very badly about how he treated your mother.
She wanted nothing to do with Charles once she found out he was already married, and I was only too happy to go along with that until the day when I lost him, and realised that by my own actions I had already lost you twenty years earlier.
You were easy to find, in fact I couldn't believe how easy. I contacted the American embassy in London and they put me in touch with Somerset House where I obtained a copy of your birth certificate, which I sat on for five years. Then I got a call from the Ambassador, who I had known formany years. He had a new under-butler, he said, and thought I would be interested to know all about him.
The rest is history, as they say; I finally got to meet my first grandchild, to spend time with him, to learn to love him. But I could never bring myself to own up to truth behind our relationship.
I know that your daddy wrote you letters, but I fear that they were lost in the fire that claimed him. As you will realise, there are many, many things for Josephine to go through, to look at, but none of them will relate to her early years, all of that is gone.
Michael, I leave it up to you how you will deal with this bomb I have dropped on you, cowardly I know, but the decision to tell is now yours and yours alone.
Your inheritance was always your salary; I didn't know how else to deal with it. There are arrangements made for it to last your entire life, I hope that your British stiff upper lip won't prevent you from continuing to claim it. For every wage check you cashed another was put into a savings account for you. Gilbert has all the details; he alone knows your secret. If you decide to do nothing that knowledge will pass from senior partner to senior partner until your death when the money will return from whence it came.
Michael, I cannot begin to understand how all of this will make you feel, which is another reason why I confided in Gilbert. Talk to him, listen to what he has to say, he will help you.
With my love and best wishes always,
Your grandmother,
Florence Walters
Michael sat down heavily on his mother's bed, he didn't actually remember moving into her room, but he was glad he had. He lay back, looking up at a ceiling that was covered in a shiny cream paint over a repeating pattern of interlocking circles. There was just too much information to take in, he would have to read through everything again, but not now, now he was too tired, too emotionally raw to make any rational decisions about anything. With a sigh he heaved himself back up off the bed and headed for the bathroom, hoping that a shower and a good night's sleep would help.