A/N Nathan was born in 1971 and Stana in 1978 (humble thanks to those who corrected me!) .
Although Castle canon puts Rick at 1969 and Kate at 1979,
that 10-year difference in age rings false to me.
So I hope you'll just go with a slight adjustment in their relative ages.
I've placed Rick at just-turned 10,
and Kate at 3-going-on-4-going-on-40
Note, this is a sequel, of sorts, to Love Letters. You may want to read that first;
if not, read it afterwards, and bring a Kleenex.
•
With This Ring
It was the first Saturday in June of 1981, and George Daniels' magic shop was warm with humanity, bustling with noise.
The bell jingled, and George's great-granddaughter, Johanna Beckett, entered with her 3-year-old daughter, Katie. She had taken the day off her job as a legal assistant to help customers on the floor. Not that a legal assistant should have to work weekends, but it was New York, and fully expected, especially of these "womens' libbers" trying to get into executive positions. Jo-Jo was known for tilting at windmills. She liked lost causes, which is why she'd probably chosen that loser-of-a-husband of hers.
Johanna was breathless. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Grandma Celeste. Something came up," she gestured helplessly. "Jim couldn't watch Katie today."
"And that something would be a bottle of wine?" said Celeste quietly.
Johanna said, "I'm sorry. He's just not feeling well. Is it ok if KatieBug 'helps out' on the floor today?"
KatieBug held up three fingers carefully. "I am almost three and a half years old," she said solemnly. "I'll be good."
Celeste bent to kiss her little great-granddaughter, who was looking quite regal in purple, with a silvery plastic tiara and a pair of ruby slippers to set it off (all bought secondhand: Katie grew fast and Johanna didn't have the money for a lot of luxuries, despite that her husband was supposedly a successful lawyer).
The real story was that Jim had relapsed with the booze again and was nowhere to be found, and there was no one to babysit. Everyone in the family knew it, but it wasn't the child's fault. "Why don't you go keep Pappa George company?" Celeste said cheerfully.
So little Katie set up a fort of boxes and a cushion on the floor, situated next to to her great-great-grandpa, singing softly to herself and playing with some of the simpler magical items. Johanna donned the old smock she'd worn when helping out at the shop since she was ten, with her childhood nickname, "Jo-Jo" still on her name badge.
Papa George smiled to himself, although at 75 years old with a touch of dementia, he wasn't really registering most of the activity. He only had eyes for his granddaughter Katie, who frowned in concentration trying to separate a shimmering steel tangle of Chinese hoops. But George's fading eyes didn't stay open long, and soon he was dozing in his comfy chair in the corner, lost in memory.
George had been born Goran Danielovic in a little village in Serbia in 1904. His path to this chair was long and convoluted. He'd had a slightly-older sister named Johanna. He'd also had a brother, Alek, who was ten years older, a brave, handsome young man who loved magic tricks and dreamed of running away to join the circus. Instead, Alek marched off to fight the Kaiser and returned with tuberculosis that killed him within a year, all the magic gone. But it turned out that Alek had become fast friends with an Englishman named Dickie Rodgers, who had taken citizenship in the United States. Before Alek died, Dickie promised to take care of Goran and Johanna, and actually came to Serbia to rescue them from an orphanage run by a pack of genuinely vicious nuns.
Dickie was a modestly famous part-time mentalist, whose friendship with Alek seemed to have developed through their mutual love of prestidigitation. When Goran and Johanna came to the States with Dickie, they changed their names to George and Josie Daniels. With Dickie's help and training, they became a moderately successful act: Dickie doing very convincing 'mind reading' based largely on his incredible memory and facility at research; George performing magic tricks (and, in the very early stages of his career, picking the occasional pocket). The Mysterious Josephine was their Beautiful (and Distracting) Assistant. Eventually, when George and Josie were old enough to go out on their own, Dickie retired from the stage and became a fact-checker and researcher for the Poughkeepsie Independent Journal. Rather late in life, in 1940, Dickie married a newspaper heiress and they had a couple of children. Although their lives were very different, Dickie always remained friends with the Danielovics.
In 1946, when George returned from the U.S. Navy, he'd opened Daniels' Magic Emporium with Josie, and Dickie acted as their silent partner. Josie died of cancer in 1954. She'd been married briefly after the war, but sometimes things don't work out, and she had no family other than George's: his wife Katherine, and their five kids, and if you wonder whether it was hard to raise five kids on a magician's salary... yes, this is why we call it magic. Katherine was of a practical bent, and only one of their sons - Ignatius - showed any interest in magic past the age of seven or so.
George had retired from magic when arthritis really took hold, what, in 1967? His last paid show had been at the closing ceremony from Steinfeld's Hi-Lo Catskills Resort. In 1969, Dickie was killed in a mugging gone wrong (he'd fought back, of course, silly man), but by then the store was well-established. They missed him – Dickie could suss a person out with breathtaking speed and have them laughing within minutes – but life went on.
Now a grandfather himself, Iggy ran the shop, which he'd first moved to a larger location slightly uptown, then expanded into theatrical supplies, costuming, and makeup. Sometimes George got into arguments with Iggy about the way he managed it. But now they were celebrating the store's 30th anniversary, with everyone in the family there to help out with the crowd. His son was giving a low-key magic demonstration, and his son's wife, Celeste, ran the register.
Business was very good indeed. The store was packed at about 3:30, with customers in the aisles and children gathered for a magic show in the demonstration area, when the bell jingled and a slim red-headed woman bustled inside. She was somewhere in her thirties, and very pretty, and she was chiding a gangly ten-year-old boy hurrying along behind her.
"I know you didn't mean to spill your drink, Richard, but I can't show up for an audition with an Orange Tang splattered all over my leotard." She hurried to the dance section and started looking through the selection. "I need an extra-small or petite size in nude or beige..."
"Mother, maybe you shouldn't audition for Hair. I mean, you're almost..."
She held up a warning figure. "Not a word, Richard. Why don't you just look around the shop while I try this on." She handed him $5 cash. "Spend it all in one place, Darling."
His face lit up. "Thanks!"
Martha caught Jo-Jo's eye. "Excuse me, Miss, do you happen to have any stain remover behind the counter? I seem to have spilled a drink on my blouse, and I'll need a leotard for an audition at 4:15..."
Richard looked at the overhead signs, designating the contents of each of the five packed aisles of mystery and wonder. Then he backed up, intending to head for the "practical jokes" case, and nearly tripped over a three-year-old girl playing with a set of steel Chinese Rings.
"Oh, shi- Sorry. Sorry." He stumbled
Knocked sprawling, she cried, "Hey!" The rings crashed to the ground in a heap, and four went rolling in different directions.
The two children scrambled after them, and wound up both clutching the same one. She snarled, "That's mine!" and he sat back, laughing at her fierce expression.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry." He handed her the other two he'd caught. "Are you okay?"
"'m fine," she scowled, straightening her tiara. She was fine-boned and had big hazel eyes, and her thick brown hair was pulled up into curly pigtails above her ears. There were dirt-stains on the knees of her lavender tights. Clearly she'd been sitting on the floor for a while. In the corner down at the end of the aisle, an old man sprawled in a large recliner, snoring and oblivious. Richard looked around for a Responsible Adult but only saw teenage magic nerds and adult magic geeks, and the flock of children beyond.
The little girl examined the rings, still pouting in frustration. "They won't go."
"Won't go where?" he teased gently.
"They're s'pose-ta link up."
"Well, maybe if you..."
"I can do it all by myself," she snapped. Tears were starting to form in those very big eyes.
He stood and stepped back, hands up. "I'm sure you can," and looked around helplessly.
A tall, brown-haired woman bustled over to them. She wore a store smock, with the name badge 'Jo-Jo'.
"Katie-bug, are you all right?"
"Yes, Mommy." Katie-bug looked up at Richard. "He falled me down but I'm ok."
Richard said again, "I'm sorry! I'm such a klutz. I didn't see her."
Jo-Jo picked her up. "Maybe you should have been sitting with Papa George instead of in the middle of the aisle on the floor?" She chucked the little girl under the chin.
"Maybe. Sorry, Mommy."
Jo-Jo said, "And now you tell this nice boy... what's your name?"
"Ricky." The boy found himself blushing. The young mother was very pretty, with a kind face and a soft brown ponytail.
"You apologize to Ricky for making him trip. No, look him in the eyes."
Katie-bug looked into a pair of extraordinarily blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Wicky." She paused and smiled shyly. "You look like the pwince in Seeping Beauty," she observed.
"Oh, I am the prince in Seeping Beauty," he replied with a grin, adding in a whisper, "I'm in disguise."
Katie-bug spent a moment digesting this concept. "That's a fib." Then she laughed. "You're not a cartoon."
Ricky smiled. "You see right through me."
Her eyes went wide. "Can you go invidible? My daddy disappears sometimes when he dwinks..."
Jo-Jo interrupted, "Are the rings broken?"
Katie-bug nodded anxiously.
"It's all right," the woman smiled. "We can fix them. See, they're just ordinary rings..." she held them all out in a handful for Rick to examine. "Do you see anything unusual about them?"
He smiled. He knew the trick and the musician's patter, so he said, "No, perfectly ordinary."
"I'm going to set you down, Katie. Mommy needs two hands to fix them."
Richard said, "May I give them a try?"
He had a set at home. He'd practiced for hours.
Johanna winked and handed him the rings while the little girl clung to her hip.
"Here they are, just ordinary rings." He handed two to Katie-bug. "Can you put them together?"
"Noooo," she shook her head. "These ones don't have the gap in them."
"Sssshhhhh," said Ricky, and then he and Jo-Jo spoke stage-whispered at once: "That's a magician's secret."
They both chuckled. Johanna said, "Family business?"
He nodded. "My great-grandpa."
Martha's voice cut through the crowd: "All done, Richard, shall we go?"
"Oh, um..." He turned to Martha and held the clutch of rings up to her face. "Hey, mother, do the honors?"
Always the good sport, and seeing she had a very tiny audience in a tiara, Martha puffed on the rings, but blew a little whistle in with it, short and shrill, as her grandfather had taught her.
Old George caught that, roused, and stared at her in puzzlement. That had been Dickie Rodgers' trademark, back in the 20s and 30s when they were still on the road.
Richard held the chain of rings out at arms' length and announced grandly, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you:
The Chinese! Rings! Of! Mystery!"
The rings had formed a triangle, three rings to each side, linked together.
Katie-bug gasped. Johanna clapped as well as she could, and Katie-bug laughed and applauded, then jumped out of her mother's arms and ran to hug him around the waist. "You fixded them!"
Startled, he backed away a little and patted her on the head. Being a ten-year-old boy, he was still wary of girls. "Okay, okay, don't get all weird about it."
He handed the rings off to Katie; she hugged him again, and he cringed. "Oh, it was nothing. Just takes a little practice."
Jo-Jo laughed. "Could've fooled me."
Martha said, "That's enough magic for one day, Richard, we really must be going."
"You should stay," Katie said. "Grandpa Iggy keeps a bunny under his magic table." She wiggled her nose.
"So sorry, Darling. Maybe next time," said Martha.
Ricky stared down at the little girl. "That's a really good nose-wiggle," he said. He'd been trying to figure that out forever, but his nose was not the wiggling kind. "Can you do this?" He grasped his hair and moved his scalp around. Jo-Jo and Katie laughed hysterically.
"Floating scalp," said Martha. "Runs on the Rodgers' side of the family. Well, ta-ta, Johanna, and thanks for your help."
"Break a leg on your audition," said Jo-Jo, oddly touched that when being waited on, the redhead had asked, "What is your real name?"
"Did you say Rodgers?" said Papa George. But then he coughed a little, and nobody really heard it above the din. Dickie Rodgers use to do that floating scalp trick. Everyone was convinced he wore a toupee, but he actually didn't.
"I don't want you to go," said Katie. The little girl's face crumpled into tears again. It was nearly 4 p.m. and she was well overdue for a nap.
"'Bye," said Ricky. "I'll come back someday." He looked uncertain.
Johanna Beckett waved goodbye. "She'll be fine. See you another time."
Katie buried her face in her mother's collar and wailed. "I WANT HIM!"
Rick followed his mother out, glancing back to give the disconsolate toddler a shy wave.
They hurried down the sidewalk. At his sad expression, Martha said, "What's wrong?"
"I don't think anyone's ever cried when I left before," he mused.
"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea." She took his arm. "Every time I've ever dropped you off at a new school..."
"Well, have you ever considered not dropping me off?"
"What, and have you follow me around like a gypsy?"
"Yes, Mother, with a tambourine and one of those horse-drawn vardos."
"What's a vardo?"
"Gypsy wagon. With the round roof."
Martha laughed. "It's expensive enough feeding you. A draft horse would put me in the poorhouse."
"Well, you're about to do a semi-naked audition to keep me in private school when I could..."
"Richard. Enough." Her voice was stern.
He sat in the theater balcony, tucked behind the railing, with his back to the stage, reading his back-pocket paperback of Casino Royale.
•
Johanna Beckett took her little girl into the back room at Daniels' Magic shop, and lay down with her a few minutes on the old vinyl-upholstered couch. Katie was still sobbing her heart out. "He's my pwince. I wuv him."
"Oh, Katie," Johanna soothed. "I know your feelings are very strong. It can be so hard to let go."
"I want him to come wiv with us. He could take care of us when Daddy's sick."
"I'm here to take care of you, Sweetheart. We love Daddy, but not everyone is good at taking care of other people. And Ricky's just a boy, not much older than you."
"Who takes care of you?"
"I do. I have a lot of help, but I'm a grownup woman, and I can take care of myself. And I know that when you grow up, you'll be a helper, and you'll take care of yourself, too. You'll be fine no matter what happens."
"I want him to come back," she sobbed. "I want my pwince."
"There are no princes, my love. That's just pretend. And that's okay, because we can put on our tiaras and pretend to be princesses sometimes too, just for fun. There are still good boys out there, good men. Daddy's a good man. But nobody's perfect. And when you take the tiara off, and you're just a girl, just a woman, that's what you want. You don't want to have to be perfect all the time."
"If you were perfect, would daddy still be sick?"
Johanna winced. "Out of the mouth of babes," she thought. "I don't know. I don't think it's up to me. He has to want to get better."
"Why woun't he want to get better?"
"I don't know," Johanna admitted, stroking her baby's hair. A three-year-old (almost four) should never have to ask questions like this.
To her surprise, her husband appeared at the back-room door. "It's a mystery to me as well," he said quietly. She stiffened, gripping her little girl, watching him as he approached the couch. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed a bit haggard, but he didn't smell of booze, and he wasn't drunk. He gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. Really sorry, Jo."
Katie launched herself into his arms. "Daddy! Where did you go?"
"I went to meet with some friends," he said.
"What friends?" said Johanna sharply.
"Nice friends." He pulled a recovery pamphlet out of his pocket and handed it to his wife. "Spent the morning at the meeting, then spent some time talking with a rehab center. Waited till I was ready to come home. If you'll have me."
Her look was plain, but she kept it silent: "You could have called." Instead she said cheerily, "We missed you."
He kissed Katie's hair. "It's busy out there in the shop. Did you have fun?"
"I met my twue wuv," Katie said.
"Your true love!" Jim chuckled, then he glanced down at his wife. "Well, I just hope he's a nice guy."
Johanna reached up and kissed his stubbled cheek. "I'm sure he has very good intentions."
After-note:
When my daughter was about this age, we went to see a children's performance of the Nutcracker. There was a juice-and-cookies reception after the ballet, and she got to meet Clara, the Sugarplum Fairy, and the Prince. He was a very kind, gentle young man and totally stole her heart away. (He also probably wouldn't have had a whole lot of interest in her as a grown woman... I think he leaned toward the male persuasion) ;-)
Katie-bug's feelings are pretty much verbatim of what my little sweetie experienced. And I remember crying bitterly over a pop star at that age, too. When little girls fall in love, they fall hard.
In observing Kate's behavior in Season 8, she exhibits the traits of an alcoholic: going in headfirst, swearing everything will get better if someone will just trust her, putting her addiction before her own health and the feelings of those she loves. Her intentions are good. She means it when she says she loves Rick. And she fails to follow through with the two things that will save her: honesty, and breaking isolation. This is what makes her an interesting character, and I know some people who behave this way. It's a fairly honest portrayal of an addict. Most interesting, she falls into pursuing this right when she becomes a captain, effectively sabotaging the two things she really wants: her career and her relationship. Classic alcoholic behavior.
Also a pain in the ass :-D
Rick exhibits the traits very common to children of alcoholics: trusting the untrustable, bending over backwards to please, trying endlessly to fix people, trying to shore up people whom they feel have weaknesses. I don't know exactly whether Martha's an alcoholic, but if her child has grown up with drunken revelry and hangovers, he's also grown up walking on eggshells, whether it's "go to bed, I have company" or "be quiet, I have a raging headache". He doesn't hold that against her, but instead takes care of her. Again, classic.
If any of this seriously hits a nerve for you, then it's worth investigating why.