Disclaimer: I don't own... I didn't get them, even though I asked for them for my bday.
A/N: Well, I don't have anything to say... wow!
genevra: Yay! Hope Comp doesn't stuff up for you too much. Yes, this is going to be the last letter, sorry... On the bright side, I'll have more time to work on Forgive.
sarita: Thanks for not minding, sorry you don't like the whole Stevie/Alex thing.
meggie-moo-has-fun and lieutenantjgMegAustin: Glad you're liking.
A couple of hours later, Alex found Charlotte sitting on the veranda, looking out over the fields that her mother had loved so much.
He sat down beside her and handed her an envelope with her name on it.
"I thought you were going to give me my present later, at the party."
"This isn't from me. It's from your mum." Seeing the confused look on her face, he clarified. "Claire, not Stevie. She wrote it before she died and instructed us to you when you were old enough, or when you started asking about her. You never really asked after your tenth birthday, and I didn't think you were ready for it then, I know I definitely wasn't ready for you to have it. It would have meant that my the last bit I held of her had really grown up, and left my grasp."
Charlotte stood up in anger: "You told me she died in a car accident, that she had no idea what was coming!" she shouted.
"Honey, calm down, she did." He rested his hand on her arm. "At least, that's what we all thought. She had some sort of foresight occasionally. She wrote a letter for each of us and left them at her attorneys'. We didn't find out until we got a letter from him about a month after you were bitten by the red back and Stevie hijacked Sandra's plane." Alex stared over the fields for a few minutes, a far away look in his eyes.
However long it had been, and however much he loved his wife, he would NEVER forget the girl who had stolen his heart, and the woman who had broken it when she died. "Have I ever told you how much you look like her?"
He had, because she did. Charlotte was the spitting image of her mother, only modernised and slightly more fashionable. No one growing up with Stevie and Tess as surrogate mothers could go without at least a small knowledge and appreciation for fashion.
Apart from personal appearance, there were a lot of similarities between Charlotte and her birth mother. Bom had taken to riding a lot quicker than any of them would have expected. She had a natural feel for horses, and the group had yet to find a horse that she could not handle given some time. Bom also deeply loved the property on which she had been born and that she had never left, thanks to the wonders of School of the Air.
After Charlotte had disappeared over the horizon, Alex stayed on the veranda, thinking. He knew where she was headed, and resisted the urge to follow her. 'She's a big girl.' He reminded himself. "It's all up to you now Claire." He said softly, his eyes glazing once again. He stood slowly, shaking the thoughts from his head. He turned to enter the house, and smiled. It had all turned out okay after all.
Charlotte walked slowly, picking her way up the hill, and sat down on at the top. She had come here many times in her life, when she felt sad or angry, or just wanted to be near Claire.
"Hi Mum." She said simply, pulling out the piece of grass that had grown in the wrong spot. Over the years, she had stopped coming up here as much. In her early teens when her temper seemed harder to keep than a block of chocolate in a property full of women, she had come here almost daily, visiting her mother, grandparents and uncle who had died at birth. She never felt morbid here. She always left feeling uplifted.
Charlotte took a deep breath and opened the envelope and pulled out some faded petals and a tear stained letter:
My dearest daughter,
How I wish I could put this paper aside and go over the where you are sleeping upstairs and watch you sleep, although I fear if I stop I might not come back to this letter and regret it later. I hope that you never have to read this, but still I am compelled to write.
I trust that Tess and/or Alex has given this to you when they judged that you are old enough to understand the workings of love, life and all that it encompasses.
I have so much to tell you, I don't know where to begin. I think it best to start at the beginning.
I believe you have a right to know about your father. At the present time he is fairly uninterested in being part of your life, past a name on you're birth certificate, but I hope in time this will change. His name is Peter Johnson and we were in a relationship for a while, until I found out, he was actually married with children. Therefore, my darling daughter Charlotte, you have in fact, half siblings, two sisters I believe.
I hope that since the last time I talked to him, he has decided that he wants to get to know you and that you two have a relationship that extends past Christmas and birthday cards.
Soon after I had sent Peter packing, after finding out about his marriage, I discovered I was pregnant. I told no one, except your Aunty Tess.
When I had an accident involving a fall from a horse, Tess was forced to tell the paramedics I was pregnant, with you. Because he sensed I did not want the general population to know that your father had betrayed me, so to speak, Alex stepped in and said he was your father. Deep down in my heart I wanted him to be. I think I have always wanted him to be.
Peter arrived at one stage and wanted to know if he was the father. I told him he wasn't and felt somewhat guilty for it later.
You were born unexpectedly, while I was out in a field looking for a little girl's fairy wand. I expect you have been told the story many times and if not by me, then by Tess and Alex.
What do I want for my little girl? If you are reading this, I am sure that you're not so little anymore, and that frightens and excites me. You have your own dreams I am sure, so I will not try to impinge mine on you.
Remember that you were born on this great wide land that I love so much, and if you need to feel close to me, I will never be far away, and I'll never be nearer to you than in one of Drovers' fields. And this place will be your home for as long or short as you want.
Do not be afraid of loving. I was, and I have regretted every moment. You have a great capacity to love; I have learnt that lately. Just as you seem to have given all the love in your heart, along comes another stranger, and you smile the smile that only you can give, and melt their heart.
Do not be afraid of who you are. It is the one thing that no one can ever take away from you. Have the strength to dream, the willingness to fail, and the courage to continue until you get it right.M
I love you my baby girl, and I wish and hope that in a year I will be able to burn this so that you never have to read it, but I'm afraid that it might not be the case.
I will love you from now until there is no more time, Your loving mother, ClaireA/N: And that, my friends, is the end. It has taken me a long time, but its finally finished. I'm NOT going to add anymore, unless there is a LOT of pleading, guilt tripping, compliments, and a large wombat arrives on my front lawn. Even then, it's not certain. I suppose that I could write a few paragraphs on what has happened to all the characters and pretend it's a chapter or finish some of the other letters... Maybe I'll wait until I've finished something else though.
I'd like to say thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed... if you haven't, do so now... if you don't know how, you click the little box that says "go" and if you don't know what to write, read some of genevra's... I love them... they're useful and loving and make me wanna write more... (She's not the only one who writes good reviews, but no-one springs to mind through the haze of hayfever)
