Chapter Eleven: God Bless the Child Who's Got His Own

She felt shaky as she walked up the steps to the Quartermaine mansion. It looked the same, no less enormous, no less oppressive than it had been all those years before. The trees were a little larger, a few shrubs here and there that hadn't been there before. They'd put a new fence around the rose garden, although she doubted it kept out the neighborhood dogs. Lila's rose garden had always been a haven for local mutts looking to get a few kicks in before being sent off to the groomer's or the kennels or whatever.

Tracy looked around, knowing that it was a stalling tactic. Simon was waiting patiently for her, next to her, standing in the cold February air, not complaining. She wondered what on earth she'd ever done to deserve his loyalty, and figured she'd never know. Maybe some people were just born decent, and she'd been lucky enough to stumble onto one of the naturals.

"You know, the doorbell works better when you actually use it," he said through chattering teeth.

It wasn't that cold, really, but she knew the point he was making. Sooner or later, she was going to ring that bell and, if allowed, cross that threshold.

Tracy steeled herself. It was different this time, different from all the other times she'd found herself on this doorstep. Back from school, back after the divorce with Larry. Home from parties, way after curfew. Home from dates, wishing they didn't have to end. Home from dates, grateful they were finally ending.

Everything in her life seemed to lead her to this doorstep, this bell, this place that never seemed to change--from the feel of the doorknob to the knot in her stomach.

She was thirteen and thirty-one and fifty, simultaneously.

She held her breath and rang the bell.

It was a moment before anyone answered. She doubted seriously she'd know the person who came to the door, and she was right. It was a woman in a housekeeper's uniform, taller than any woman she'd ever met, and built like--well, a bulldozer, to be honest. She had shoulder-length auburn hair and the build of a linebacker, but she smiled politely. "I'm sorry," she said. "We're not talking to reporters." She seemed to be enjoying her gatekeeper duties.

"We're not reporters," Simon said, taking the lead as he'd done so many times since all this blew up. His voice exuded confidence, and the tall woman responded to him immediately. She paused, the door still open a crack, and listened. "We're here to see Mrs. Quartermaine," he continued, pushing his toe in the space between the door and the door jamb.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Quartermaine isn't seeing visitors today," she said. The woman actually sounded apologetic as she smiled at Simon, her round face practically glowing as she spoke to him.

"Please," Tracy managed to find her voice. "Please, um…what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," the housekeeper said sharply, eying Tracy carefully. "Have I met you before?"

"No…No, I'm certain we haven't met before."

She scrutinized Tracy, her gaze seeming to take in every detail of the smaller woman's face. "I know I've seen you somewhere before…"

"Could you please tell my mother that Tracy would like to speak with her?" she asked tiredly, ending the guessing game. If the housekeeper had orders to refuse Tracy entrance, so be it. But it was cold, and she was tired of fiddling around with this.

"That's where I know you from!" She nodded, a huge smile on her face. "I never forget a face, even faces I've only seen in photographs. There's one of you in Mrs. Lila's study--I saw it once when I was--"

"Will you please just let us in out of the cold or send us on our way?" Tracy's patience was wearing thin, and she made no attempt to hide that fact.

The housekeeper looked affronted, but opened the door. "Come in," she said, her eyes narrowing and a warning tone seeping into her voice. "But don't touch anything." She nodded knowingly at Tracy, then motioned for them to sit down on the couch. "I'll see if Mrs. Lila can receive you." And without another word, she was gone.

Tracy drew in a hard breath, relieved to be rid of the insufferable woman. She collapsed on the couch and motioned for Simon to join her. He was still standing, staring around him at the sheer, oppressive enormity of it all. "Like a mausoleum, isn't it?" she said as he joined her on the couch, still craning his neck to take it all in. "Welcome to my childhood," she added without humor.

"Whoa."

"Very articulate, Professor," she laughed. Once upon a time, she might have misunderstood his awe, or been embarrassed by it. Now she was just tiredly amused.

"You grew up here?"

"When I wasn't in some Swiss boarding school, yes," she admitted. She knew that Simon came from the middle class. He'd probably never even considered what it was like living in a place like this--the kind of place Tracy had taken for granted until twenty years ago. "Not the warmest place to grow up, but it had its perks. Like the boathouse, for instance." She smiled, thinking of the multitude of scandalous things she'd done there while Daddy was away on business. "That was always good for a bit of fun."

"Let me guess--swimming pool and tennis courts?"

"Private lake and tennis courts," she corrected. She laughed at his incredulous look, stroking her hand across his forehead. "You've been amazing to me, Simon," she said in a soft voice. "I couldn't have made it through the last 24 hours without you."

"I think this does extend a little beyond my job description," he said.

Tracy was just about to respond when they heard a door opening.

"Well, your father must be in very bad shape if you've come home."

Tracy's heart stopped for just a moment at the familiar accented voice. She stood immediately, turning to see her mother entering the room, frail, much older, confined to an electronic wheelchair, but still as beautiful as ever. She couldn't speak for a moment--her throat was constricting, and she had to fight the urge to bolt across the room and throw herself bodily into her mother's arms.

"Hello, darling," Lila Quartermaine said, extending her arms for an embrace.

Tracy was across the room in no time, Simon forgotten, Edward forgotten, twenty years of dreams and memories and loneliness forgotten. All was forgotten, all was forgiven--on her part, anyway--when she felt her mother's arms around her, when she felt that familiar warmth, breathed in the scent of Lila, of home, of safety for the first time in two decades.

She found she was sobbing, holding on to her mommy for dear life, oblivious to anything but the heartbeat next to her, the arms around her, the soft voice whispering, "There, there, child" in her ear. How long she stayed like that, she didn't know. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour or two. All she knew was that when she finally pulled free of Lila's embrace, she felt stronger and safer than she had in years.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," she whispered, her hands reaching for Lila's face tentatively, as if she were a mirage that would vanish under too much scrutiny. "I'm so sorry."

"Nonsense, Tracy," her mother said in that tone she got that simply brushed away trouble without a second thought. It was the voice she'd used so many times when Tracy was a teenager, the one that got her off the hook with Edward more times than she could remember. "You've come home at last. The time for apologies is long since over, at least on your part. Have you been to the hospital? Have you any word on your father's condition?"

She stared blankly at Lila. "Alan said they weren't going to tell you--"

"Oh, yes, that." She rolled her eyes, a quick flick of her hands her only acknowledgement of Alan's attempt to protect her from the truth. "The paper mysteriously vanished and the cable was unexpectedly out," she said conspiratorially. "Of course, they completely forgot that my cellular telephone has internet access. I get the news, right in the palm of my hands," she said with a little superior tone. "It was kind of them to try to protect me, dear, but really. I've been with your father for decades. I don't need to be protected when it comes to him."

Tracy laughed, still kneeling in front of her mother's chair, loathe to move even the short distance to the couch. "He was still in surgery when we left. We wanted to see you--make sure you were all right."

"You flew in all the way from Seattle…Ms. Walker?" Lila's voice took on a conspiratorial tone.

Tracy's eyes grew wide. "How--?"

"Oh, Tracy. Your father is a stubborn man, but he doesn't control me. I wanted to know where my daughter disappeared to, so I hired a private investigator years ago. Once I knew you were all right, I decided to leave you to your own devices. I knew, sooner or later, you'd come back in your own time." She turned to Simon, who had been watching the entire scene in rapt fascination. "You must be Dr. Simon Fullerton," she added, to both their surprise. Turning to Tracy, she said, "Well, he has his picture up on the Freedom Energies website!"

"Mother, you're full of surprises," Tracy said, her voice choked with love. "Simon, this is my mother, Lila Quartermaine. Mother…" She turned to Simon, unsure just how to introduce him. Suddenly, here, with all this love and acceptance, "friend and business associate" didn't seem to fit. "Simon Fullerton, one of my best friends in the world." Yes, that was better.

She was grateful that Simon stood, crossed the distance to take Lila's hand properly. He may have been raised middle class, but Simon had manners and knew how to use them. He placed his free hand over Lila's, sandwiching her frail hand between his two strong ones, and held her like that for a long moment. "Tracy has told me nothing but wonderful things about you, Mrs. Quartermaine," he said graciously, with a slight bow.

"Alice," Lila said. "Please set up rooms for Tracy and her young man." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I correct in assuming you'll need two rooms?"

Tracy blushed, shaking her head. "No, Mama, we're not…we already have rooms at the Tanglewood Inn."

"The little Bed and Breakfast on Old Millers Road?" Lila clapped her hands together. "What a charming place! Emily took me for lunch there about a month ago. They have the nicest little lavender cookies--oh, Tracy, you must try them."

"Who's Emily, Mother?"

Lila paused for breath, then chuckled. "You've missed quite a lot around here, my darling. There are more than a few new faces to get used to. Emily is Monica and Alan's adopted daughter." She paused, her face twisting slightly in dismay. "Oh, dear. Emily has your old room now. I suppose we could put you up in the east wing--it's very nice, especially in the winter. All the heat from the--"

"Mother, we're not staying here. I just said that," Tracy added patiently, wondering if perhaps senility was setting in. She turned to Simon, who had returned to his place on the couch, but he was no help. He was just sitting there, smiling, watching the scene with a curious satisfaction she didn't quite comprehend.

"Of course you just said that. And you can call that lovely Tanglewood Inn and cancel your rooms--"

"But Daddy--"

"Tracy Lila Quartermaine, your father may be a stubborn old man, but I am not going to be told who can and cannot stay under my own roof." She waggled her eyebrows. "Besides, he's in surgery right now. It's not like he's in any position to throw his weight around."

Tracy hesitated, considering. She couldn't count the times she'd dreamed of being back under this roof, of waking up among familiar surroundings. But something in her wouldn't let it happen, and she shook her head sadly. "I can't, Mother. I appreciate the offer. You know I do. But…" She shook her head, unable to make eye contact. "Not like this, Mommy. Not behind his back."

Lila brushed Tracy's hair from her eyes, gazing thoughtfully on her daughter's face. "He will come around, you know."

"It's been over twenty years." Tracy's demeanor didn't change, but it was impossible to keep the hurt and rejection from her voice. She smiled up at her mother, an expression more sad than happy. "But you keep on hoping, Mother. I love your for your optimism."

The phone rang, and Alice crossed the room to get it. In a moment, she was back at Lila's side. "That was my snitch at the hospital, Mrs. Q. Mr. Q is out of surgery, and according to my informant, he's A-Okay."

"You're a treasure, Alice, dear. Thank you." Once the housekeeper was gone, Lila turned back to Tracy, who was almost doubled-over with relief. "Well, Tracy. Looks like your father has survived yet another heart scare."

The words were like a blade across her stomach, and she looked up at Lila with an expression of wounded astonishment. As soon as Lila saw her face, she knew she'd mistepped, that the wounds were not healed at all, that this last scare had opened everything up in her daughter. She reached out and cupped Tracy's face in her hand, kissing her forehead softly. "Forgive me, dear," she whispered. "That was insensitive."

"It was true…" Tracy's stomach was heavy; it felt like she had rocks in her abdomen. She burrowed her face in her mother's hands, blinking back tears. "He never forgave me, did he?"

"No, Tracy. Your father is a very stubborn man. He likes to blame everyone else for his own faults, and is even happier when they have faults of their own to add to the list."

"I'm sorry, Mommy. If I could take it back, I would. In a heartbeat." She leaned against her mother, letting herself be wrapped in another embrace. "I've relieved that night so many times, and every time I think, if only I had reacted differently, if only I had known…"

"Edward was wrong to put you in that position. He never should have tested you like that, never should have forced you into that sort of decision."

"It shouldn't have been a choice at all, Mother," she whispered into the soft fabric of Lila's dress. "Not to a real daughter, not to a decent human being."

"Tracy, what happened is in the past, where it belongs. You made a mistake, goaded on by a sadistic and completely inappropriate trap your father set." Lila's voice was filled with a sort of venom, a decades-old anger at her husband for laying the plan that inevitably broke up their home. "We all make mistakes, daughter. You are as worthy of forgiveness as any of God's creatures."

Tracy rested her head against Lila's heart, wishing that her words were true, but strongly suspecting that Lila didn't have all the facts. At least where Edward was concerned. "I have to see him," she said in a flat voice. It was something she dreaded, something she couldn't bear, but something she also could not avoid. "I need to go back to the hospital."

Lila nodded, stroking her hair. "I understand, Tracy." She lifted her daughter's chin until they were eye to eye, catching Tracy's gaze and not letting it go. "You come back here. Don't leave without coming back to this house, Tracy Lila Quartermaine." Her tone brooked no arguments, and Tracy didn't offer any

"I will, Mother," she said, placing a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Now, we need to go."

"Go," Lila said, still holding Tracy's hand as she stood to leave. "It was good meeting you, Dr. Fullerton."

"Simon, please."

She nodded. "Make sure she returns, Simon. Give me your word."

"I promise, Mrs. Quartermaine," Simon said, reaching out to shake Lila's hand before joining Tracy at the front door. "I won't let her leave without seeing you again."

Lila nodded happily. "You looked like a nice man," she said pleasantly as the two hurried back out into the frigid winter day. "Alice! Where's my Blackberry, dear? I want to check the stock prices."

Coming in Chapter Twelve: The Old Man and the Demons He Commands