"Play it," Virgil said.
Scott nodded. The picture on the lounge televid leaped to life. The two brothers sat back to take in the details of the UK news cast.
"Good evening. I'm Maali Pahuja," the anchor said. "Grace Thomas, a forty-eight year old woman from Little Walden in Essex, has been charged with the abduction of American physicist and author John Tracy, who disappeared from the M11 hard shoulder in January of this year." The green screen she was standing in front of lit up. The picture of John that had become so famous stared out at them. "Mr Tracy fled Ms Thomas's house in Little Walden, Essex, where he had been held against his will for nearly a year, after Thomas had given birth. In a dramatic twist, Essex police asked International Rescue to assist with the escape bid.
"Thomas has been charged with a string of other offences including attempted murder, sexual assault and administering a substance with intent, as well as neglect and child cruelty against her daughter." The images shifted to footage of the crime scene shot from a helijet. "Police are also investigating claims that there may be bodies buried in the garden of her sixteenth century farmhouse, linked to two unsolved murder cases from the past two years. Thomas has been remanded in custody. A trial date has not yet been set."
The news cast went on and Scott paused the feed.
"Jesus Christ," Virgil said.
Scott nodded. It had been five days since John had managed to escape. Now, finally, he was coming home.
"I can't believe we'll all be together again," Virgil said. "Not even just that, that there'll be another baby in the house."
Smiling, Scott leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch.
"Adam is seven months old and has a set of lungs that could drown out an orchestra," he said. "Thank God Dad had the foresight to sound-proof the bedrooms." He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through to a picture Gordon had sent. It was their grandma, cuddling a tiny bundle with impossibly pink lips. "She's beautiful," he said.
Virgil leaned in to get another look – even though they had seen the picture a thousand times.
"I know. It's amazing how something so stunning can come from something so tragic. No news on a name yet?" he asked.
"Not yet," Scott said as he put the phone back in his pocket. "I guess it hasn't been high on John's list of priorities but it would be nice to know what to call her when she gets here."
The two brothers turned around at the sound of cooing voices. Alan and Tin-Tin appeared with Adam in tow.
"Hey, Squirt," Scott said. Then he grinned. "Oh, and hey Adam."
Alan scowled. Tin-Tin chuckled. They crossed to the couch and Scott reached out for Adam. The little boy grinned as he was ensconced in his uncle's arms. He favoured his mother's Malaysian heritage and he had a thick mop of straight black hair already.
"So what have you been up to today, hmm?" Scott asked. "Are you getting ready to meet your cousin?"
Adam burbled and cooed, reaching to grasp the zip of Scott's sweatshirt.
"I can't believe he's finally coming home," Tin-Tin said. "And I can't imagine what it must feel for him to know he's safe again."
Scott shifted the child in his arms. Virgil reached over to play peek-a-boo with Adam – the child's favourite game.
"I just hope he knows we're all here for him," Scott said.
"Oh, I'm sure he does," Tin-Tin said. "Knowing John, it should be more like, I hope he knows that he can ask for help at any time."
Her gentle face was creased with compassion. Scott winced as Adam grabbed his nose, his baby fingernails scraping the sensitive skin inside.
"It's going to be a big change. Having a baby, I mean," Alan said. "We know better than anyone!"
"That's not all I mean," Tin-Tin said, throwing Alan an irritated look. "It's not like having a baby is the only long-term consequence of his ordeal. He's been through a significant trauma. You don't just come home and find that everything is fine again."
Alan nodded, looking sheepish.
"I know that, Tin-Tin," he said. "I just… I guess the baby is the only thing I think I can help him with. I'm not good with the emotional support kind of thing."
Adam let out a screech and Scott winced. The child was grinning from ear to ear, revelling in the noise he was making. He wriggled in Scott's grasp, reaching for the zip again.
"Well, we're all going to have to get good at it," Scott said.
"Right," said Virgil. "it's going to be a tough few months – maybe longer – and we all have to make sure we're there for him. It's the least he deserves."
~oOo~
"Did you bring a big enough plane?" Gordon asked, eyeing the mountain of bags and parcels that were piled up in the entrance hall of the Creighton-Ward mansion.
Jeff rubbed at his chin and frowned.
"You know, Gordon, I'm not sure."
The combination of Lady Penelope, Grandma Tracy and a new baby girl had proved to be an expensive one. His credit card hadn't seen so much use in decades. However, not a single atom of his body minded. After all, it was all for family. The baby girl – as yet unnamed – already had a wardrobe that rivalled Penelope's. Jeff toed one of the bags. There was so much pink.
Five days earlier, Jeff had chartered a Tracy Industries jet to travel to England, not merely to fetch his son, but also to personally sort out a few other issues.
One being the custody of his new granddaughter.
They had hit a legal minefield when it came to custody of the child. The mother was not an option. However, once John had been proven to be her father, the issue of capability came into play, since he had been through such a traumatic event. Then there was the fact that the child would be taken out of the court's jurisdiction… However, Jeff had stepped in with his size twelves to sort everything out – guided by his substantial legal team, of course. Now they were finally able to go home.
Parker was struggling with an armful of presents and Gordon leapt in to stop him from stumbling.
"Steady on," he said.
"Most obliged, Master Gordon," Parker said. "H'aye 'ope you have ordered a large taxi to bring you to the airport, Mister Tracy."
Jeff chuckled and folded his arms.
"We have, Parker," he said.
"It's h'a pity I couldn't take you meself," Parker said as he placed the packages on the floor beside the others. "'Owever, FAB One simply does not 'ave the required space."
He gestured at the mountain on the floor and needed to say nothing further. Jeff eyed the ever-growing pile and frowned.
"Maybe I should have ordered two cabs…"
~oOo~
In his bedroom at the mansion, John said in front of the vidphone. It rang and rang.
He tapped his fingers against his jiggling legs as he waited for the call to connect. He felt fatigued and yet restless. Over the past few days, he had been barely able to stop moving for even a few seconds. Akathisia, the doctors had called it. It was all part of Benzodiazepine withdrawal syndrome, what he was now suffering from after being force-fed flunitrazepam for so long.
Not something that I want to have to deal with, he thought. And I don't really want to have this conversation either, but…
Click. The line connected. The screen displayed the text VOICE ONLY.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Is that Amelia?"
"No," the voice said. "This is her cousin, Georgie. Who are you?"
"Sorry, Georgie. Of course. You sound just like her. It's John Tracy."
There was a short silence on the line. John could imagine the silent 'oh' forming on the unseen woman's lips. And then there was another click and her face appeared. She looked relatively young, perhaps a few decade older than himself.
"How are you, John?" Georgie asked.
They had met before, briefly, when the issue of Amelia's care had come up. With her mother on remand and her father untraceable, the police had reached out to other relatives. Her cousin Georgie had been the only one to step in.
"I'm okay," John said. Liar. "We're getting ready to leave for home. Would I be able to speak to Amelia, please? I want to say goodbye – for now."
Georgie smiled. It was a graceful expression, her lips forming a gentle bow. She bore no resemblance to her Aunt Grace – thank God, John thought.
"Of course," Georgie said. "I'll get her now."
Then she disappeared from view, though John could hear her calling for her cousin. He smiled as he heard footsteps running to the vidphone. Amelia's face appeared in the screen, grinning. John shook his head. She was actually grinning.
"JOHN!" she said. "How are you? How's my baby sister?"
John chuckled. He felt a little flutter of warmth in his cold heart. She looks happy.
"I'm fine," he said, "and your sister is fine, too. How are things for you?"
Amelia shrugged her shoulders in typical teenage fashion but she was still smiling.
"They're okay, I guess. Georgie's really nice and her house is amazing. She's some kind of big-time architect. I mean, it's not totally ideal because it's in Kent and I'll have to move schools and everything but…" Her eyes darkened. "It's better than before."
John wished he could reach through the screen to give the teen a hug. Amelia bounced back quickly though, and she changed the subject.
"Do you have a name yet?" Amelia asked. John shook his head and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, John, come on! I need to know what to call her!"
John chuckled again, marvelling at the creature before him. She was so lively, so…beautiful. She was nothing like the husk of a child she had been before. I wish it was as easy as this, he thought. I wish she could just be this happy and move on. I hope she doesn't have too many bad days.
"I know, I know," he said. "People keep asking me and I just don't know. I'm not good at that kind of thing."
Amelia frowned.
"You named a quasar, didn't you?"
John sat back, a little stunned.
"How did you know that?" he asked.
The girl blushed a little and looked away for a moment.
"Georgie and I… We may have Googled you."
John's chuckle was louder this time.
"That sounds so strange," he said. "Do you have any ideas?"
Amelia cocked her head to the side and looked up.
"What about something astronomical? Not like, Star or Stella, but something related to astronomy. Do you have a favourite constellation? Or a specific star name?"
"I hadn't thought about that," he said. He drummed his fingers on his knees. "Hmm. That may give me a few ideas. Thanks, Amelia."
The girl beamed.
"You're welcome!"
The mirth dissipated when John's attention turned to what he had called for in the first place. Amelia noticed the change and frowned.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Amelia, I'm flying back home today," he said. "I just wanted to let you know that."
Amelia's image shrank a little as she sat back in her chair.
"Oh," she said.
"Yeah. I don't need to stay in England any longer because they've taken my statements. Any further correspondence can be long-distance – until the trial, that is. Then I'll have to come back."
"Oh," Amelia said again. Then her image grew again as she leaned forward. She had painted a smile on her face. "Well, it won't be so different," she said. "I can still call you, right?"
"Of course you can," John said. "Just remember the time difference. I'll be twelve hours behind you – but you can call any time, even if it's the middle of the night for me." He rubbed his face, feeling suddenly weary. "I want to know that you're okay and that things are working out with Georgie."
Amelia reached out and placed a finger against the vid screen. It took John a moment to figure out what she wanted. Eventually, it clicked and he reached one of his own fingers out to touch the screen.
"Don't worry, John," she said, withdrawing her hand. "I'll keep in touch. And maybe I can come see you and my sister some time." She leaned in and whispered. "Don't worry, I can keep a secret better than anyone."
For a moment, John felt sorrow threaten to overwhelm him. The teen was a world champion in secret keeping, considering what her mother had forced her to withhold. He kept a lid on his emotions and instead gave her a smile.
"I know you can, and yes, of course you can come see your sister. If you can stomach meeting my very large family, that is," he said.
"I'm sure they're all fine."
Glancing at his watch, John realised the time. They would need to leave very soon to meet their departure window.
"Well, I'd better be going," he said. "I have a plane to catch.
Amelia nodded, looking a little dejected, but made an effort to brighten up again.
"Okay, John. Will you let me know when you're home safely?" she asked.
"Of course I will," John said. How can she be so good after all she's been through? Amazing. "Keep safe."
The girl blew a kiss at the screen and John smiled, reaching up to 'grab' it. He placed his closed fist against his heart.
"Bye, John," Amelia said. "Have a safe flight!"
"I will. Goodbye, Amelia," John said.
When he disconnected the line, she was still waving. What a wonderful kid, he thought. If she can come through all she's had to suffer, maybe… Maybe things will be okay for… Damn, I really do need to think of a name! John rose from the vidphone and glanced around the room. Everything had been packed away. I think I'm ready to go.
He breathed in and exhaled slowly, legs starting to jiggle again. Yes. I'm ready to go home.
Before descending the grand staircase of the Creighton-Ward mansion, John entered the suite of rooms where his grandmother had been staying. She was ensconced in a high-backed chair, grinning and cooing at the little child in her arms. She looked up when he entered. He gave her a weak smile.
"Hey, Grandma," he said.
"Oh, John. We were just having a lovely conversation, weren't we?"
John crossed to them and looked down at the little wrinkled face, the tiny hands wrapped in scratch mittens, the little body with her legs drawn up like a frog's. My daughter.
"I hope it was an intelligent conversation," John said. "None of that goo-goo, gaa-gaa stuff."
His grandmother shook her head and rolled her eyes. The baby stared to whimper and keen.
"Oh, John. She's five days old. Let and old woman have her goo-goos and gaa-gaas. Soon enough she'll be off to college and you'll wish for these days again!" The child began to cry softly. "Here," Grandma said, shifting the child so she could hold her out to him. "I think she needs her daddy."
John froze for a moment, thousands of thoughts racing through his mind. What if I do something wrong? What if I don't want her? What if I hate her? What if she hates me? But Amelia's smiling face appeared and chased all the negativity away. No. If she can do it, so can I.
He reached out and lifted the child, bringing her onto his shoulder. She was so small and yet so warm against him, her little face pressed against his shirt. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet and made gentle shushing sounds.
"Isn't that a picture?" Grandma asked.
John let out a soft breath.
"A picture I never thought I'd see," he said.
"I know we keep asking, but have you got a name yet? We do need to get the birth certificate sorted out…"
John rubbed circles on the little girl's back as she quieted down and he nodded.
"I do, actually," he said.
His grandmother's eyes lit up.
"You do? Oh, let's hear it!" she said.
John, feeling a tendril of mischief creep in, shook his head.
"Not yet. I'll tell everyone downstairs together."
"Well, come on then!"
He was ushered out the door, his grandmother with her arms full of the last of the baby's possessions, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes widened.
"Wow," he said. "That is a lot of stuff for one very small human being."
Penelope came forward and stroked the top of the baby's head, smiling at the softness of the hair against her fingers.
"Now, now, John," she said. "She deserves every last piece of it."
Grandma planted her hands on her hips and stared at him. Gordon shot his brother a strange look. John smiled.
"Well?" Grandma Tracy asked. "Go on!"
John cleared his throat lightly and shifted the baby so that he was cradling her against his chest.
"Everyone, I've finally made a decision – thanks mostly to Amelia. I've named her."
There were exclamations of happiness and Jeff stepped forward.
"And?" he asked, rubbing his finger against the girl's cheek.
"Everyone," John said, "I'm pleased to introduce you to Lyra Lucille Tracy."
Jeff smiled, showing two rows of shining teeth. His crow's feet wrinkled at the side of his eyes.
"That's wonderful," he said. "Now, come on and give your grandfather a cuddle."
He reached for the baby and John acquiesced.
"Nice to meet you, Lyra Lucille," Jeff said. "Your grandmother would have just adored you."
Gordon stepped over an errant box and clapped a hand on John's shoulder.
"Good choice, bro," he said.
"Yeah," John answered. "I thought so, too."