It was the first and perhaps last time he had been given a seat in business class, and with the continued bickering beside him, he couldn't even enjoy it.
"Get up," he told Valerie.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because you and Silver are about to give me a blinding headache," said Brandon as he switched seats with Valerie. "You bickered all the way to Copenhagen and woulda kept it up in the airport, if you hadn't been silenced by that woman at border control. I'm not listening to it all the way to Toronto."
Or on the car ride from Toronto to Buffalo.
"He shouldn't have come," said Val, for perhaps the twentieth time. "And why does Kelly get a seat to herself?"
"You want to switch?" asked Kelly. "I'll switch with you."
Brandon didn't mind the new arrangement, but David certainly did.
"You act like I've never met Abby before," David leant forward to say above Valerie's head. "She likes me, remember?"
A flight attendant happened by, to scold David for being unbuckled in the airline's runway preparations.
"My mother likes you until she doesn't," they heard Valerie say. "And I don't want to find out what happens when she decides she no longer likes you."
Brandon was surprised to realize he had fallen asleep before takeoff, and that his head rested upon Kelly's head, who was also asleep.
He slightly lifted his shoulder, trying to untangle from her.
"Hey," he said as her eyes opened.
"Hey," Kelly yawned as she looked around, "did we fall asleep?"
"Must have." Brandon offered a slight smile. "Looks like we missed dinner." He nodded towards the empty dishes of the other passengers.
"Damn," said Kelly. "It was supposed to be a good one, too." She looked over at David's vacant seat, then noticed that Valerie's was also vacant. "Where do you think they went?" asked Kelly.
"Maybe to see which one will push the other off the plane first," said Brandon.
"You're terrible," Kelly giggled.
"I don't know how two people who were so in love with each other not even a year ago can fight this much," said Brandon.
"It is a mystery," said Kelly.
"Yeah." Brandon dove into Kelly's eyes. "A mystery." He turned his head to sever eye contact. "The Mile High Club," he said.
"What?" asked Kelly.
"They could be joining the Mile High Club," he said.
"Or maybe David's trying to keep Val from joining it with anyone else, someone it would be a huge mistake to join it with," said Kelly in a somber tone.
"Are we speaking from experience?" asked Brandon.
"Maybe," said Kelly.
Brandon decided he would prefer to remain blissfully unaware of the details.
He removed his laptop from its case and began to type, only for Kelly to move the laptop away.
"Hey, I was using that," said Brandon.
"Your work can wait," said Kelly. "How often do you get to enjoy business class?"
"I did tell him economy would be perfectly fine," said Brandon.
"Dylan's not gonna buy a flight for his brother and put him on economy," said Kelly.
"He didn't have to buy my ticket," said Brandon.
"Yes, he did," said Kelly. "He wants answers and he knows how expensive it is to get a flight right away. Quit being so stubborn. Consider it him doing a favor for Bren."
Returning before Brandon could formulate an adequate answer, Valerie stashed her toothbrush back into her carry-on.
"Where's Silver?" asked Brandon.
"Who knows?" asked Val. "He's probably flirting with that one flight attendant."
"What one flight attendant?" asked Kelly.
"You know the one, Kel. The one who looks like Donna. Big puppy brown eyes and all."
"That wine did not agree with me," said David as he returned to his own seat.
"So you weren't off flirting with blonde flight attendants?" asked Kelly.
"No, why would I be?" asked David.
"Inquiring minds wanted to know," said Brandon.
"I take it someone still can't accept that I am completely over Donna Martin," said David loudly.
Valerie acted as if she hadn't heard.
"Is someone supposed to pick us up?" Brandon scanned over the crowds at YYZ.
"Curtis should be," said Val as she claimed her baggage.
"Since when does Curtis look like your ex-boyfriend?" Jealousy etched upon David's tone.
"Tom?" asked Valerie. "What are you doing here?" she added as she ran to him.
"Curtis had a last-minute job to do in Alberta." Buffalo's Tom Miller gathered Valerie into the fabric of his Knicks jersey. "He asked if I could pick you guys up."
Despite knowing that Kelly had also briefly dated Tom, the man's presence didn't bother Brandon the way it clearly bothered David.
"Aren't we all just so glad to have Buffalo Tom around," he said.
"David!" said Val.
"What?" asked David. "His name's Tom. He's from Buffalo. He's around."
"I apologize for his atrocious attitude," Val told Tom.
"We aren't even together and she's apologizing for me," David complained to Brandon.
"Don't get me involved," said Brandon.
"Brandon." Tom released Valerie just enough to shake Brandon's hand. "How's it going?"
"Oh, you know, could be better," said Brandon.
The drive to Buffalo was peppered with chatter between four individuals, as the fifth sat with an expression that threatened to dismember the driver's head.
"It's nice of Tom to drive us," said Kelly. "Isn't it nice?" she asked David.
"So nice," he said, lacking any genuinity in his voice.
"Hey, Silver," said Brandon. "Try to be a little more jealous, will you?"
"I'm not jealous," said David; a pointless statement, as his scowl declared otherwise.
If he wasn't careful, said Kelly, it would become permanent.
The remark only served to deepen David's scowl.
Tom dropped them off at their hotel, where David was glad to hear Tom decline Valerie's invitation to join her in the pool.
"I gotta work a shift," he said. "But if the offer's still open tomorrow…"
"It won't be," said David.
"What David means to say," said Val, "is that we're hoping to be out of here quickly. Got a deadline to meet."
"Two of our best friends are about to have a baby," said David, placing a particular emphasis on the word our. "In Finland. Far away from here."
"Congratulations on the happy occasion," said Tom. "I'm still in the old place, if you want to drop by later," he told Val.
"Better get on to work, then, Tom," said David.
"What do you have against Tom?" asked Valerie after Tom had left.
"What do you have against Donna?" asked David in answer.
"You've had it out for Tom from the very beginning, ever since you met him!" said Val.
"I dated Clare, too," said David, "but that doesn't get under your skin nearly as much as Donna does. Why is that?"
Brandon and Kelly looked at each other.
"Pool?" asked Brandon.
"Pool," agreed Kelly.
"Finally," said Brandon as he emerged from his cannonball, "some peace and quiet."
Kelly swam towards him.
"How long 'til they take over my room?" she asked.
She had been forced to share with Valerie due to an allegedly unfortunate mistake in the booking.
Only Brandon knew that Brenda had booked the rooms. The others were under the impression that Dylan had, so that Valerie and Kelly had turned their frustration towards a venting session about Dylan forcing them to room together.
Valerie had declared the alternative, sharing with David, to be worse.
That had brought on another round of bickering between the two.
Brandon's alternative had been rooming with Kelly, which he decided couldn't lead to anything good.
"I give it a day, or less," said Brandon.
"The tension is just oozing off of them," said Kelly. "They're bound to get back together soon."
"Val's got those walls of hers stretched to the sky," said Brandon. "Not so sure Davey can dismantle them this time."
"I know a bit about that." Kelly floated on her back. "Walls to the sky."
"Yours?" asked Brandon.
"Yours," said Kelly.
"How close are those walls to chandeliers?" asked Brandon.
"They tower over chandeliers," said Kelly. "And when they're ready to tumble…" She brought her hand to Brandon's cheek.
"Kelly," said Brandon.
"If you knew the last night we slept together was gonna be our last, would you have done anything differently?" Kelly's other hand went to the other side of Brandon's cheek.
"I'd have done a few things differently," Brandon breathed.
"Like what?" asked Kelly.
"Kissed you a little harder, held you a little longer, told you calling off our wedding was a mistake."
"So you do think we made a mistake."
"I thought so then."
"And now?"
"Now," Brandon kissed Kelly's hand, "now, I'm grateful to you that you came here to help me figure out how to protect my family."
"I used to be part of that family," said Kelly.
"You've never stopped being part of my family," said Brandon.
He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but the look on Kelly's face left him unable to rescind his statement.
"Follow me." Kelly grabbed for Brandon's hand.
"Follow you where?" asked Brandon.
His heart betrayed his mind by announcing it would follow Kelly Taylor anywhere.
The archway he had mistaken for a window opened out onto a roof, which was enclosed by glass on all sides.
"We can see the entire city of Buffalo from here," said Kelly.
"Look far enough east and you might spot Manhattan," Brandon jested.
"Or far enough west for Beverly Hills," said Kelly.
"Do you miss it?" asked Brandon.
"Honestly?" asked Kelly. "Not really."
"You don't miss your home?"
"Hasn't felt like home since you left."
"Kel…" Brandon started.
"I get that you think we're better as friends, Brandon, and I love being your friend. But if you think I can just fall out of love with you like nothing happened between us, like we didn't get pregnant, like we didn't miscarry, like we didn't almost marry, then you're as dumb as I was when I thought I could move on with Matt. You might have fallen out of love with me, but I'm still very much in it with you."
A samba began in Brandon's heart, one he desperately attempted to taper.
"And I don't care if you know," Kelly continued, "not after the way my heart teetered on obliteration when I realized you'd climbed onto a burning bus. I don't care if you want Alina, or if you want anyone who isn't me. When you think the person you love could go up in an explosion, the person who knows how to make you feel alive, Brandon, the person who listened to you when no one else cared to hear, nothing matters but seeing if he'll get off the bus. And you did. You got off the bus."
"Kelly, I -"
Brandon was interrupted from telling Kelly his innermost reverie by the appearance of Valerie.
"There you are," said Val. "I've been searching for you guys everywhere. Tom heard from a neighbor that Abby's away for the day, so it's the perfect time to look through her things and see what we can find. I've got a key, too, see?" Valerie rattled her keyring. "So she can't accuse us of breaking and entering."
"Duty calls," Brandon sheepishly told Kelly, who to her credit took the interruption in stride.
"Let's go help Cindy," she said. "Make sure Bren's and Dylan's baby can be born into a family that isn't being blackmailed."
David and Kelly were instructed to stay in the car as lookouts, whilst Brandon and Valerie searched the house.
"What are we looking for?" asked Val as she began digging through drawers.
"Anything from the year of the festival," said Brandon.
"What year was it again?"
Brandon said nineteen-hundred and seventy.
"Abby's got some old college stuff upstairs," said Val. "We can start there."
They had made it back downstairs when the key turned in the lock.
"I thought you said Abby was gone for the day?" asked Brandon.
"Quick!" said Val. "Hide!"
"Where should I hide?" he asked.
The room was too open to hide anywhere.
"Dumbwaiter," said Val. "There's an old dumbwaiter, behind that door."
Brandon squatted in the dumbwaiter, musing over what response he would give Kelly.
"Hello, Mother," he heard.
"Valerie," came the nervous laugh. "You frightened me."
"This family invokes a lot of that, don't we? Fear?" said Val.
"Valerie, if you've come here to go off on another one of your pointless tangents -"
"Pointless tangents? Cindy Walsh, is she a pointless tangent? Is Aunt Cindy being scared to death of someone, or something a pointless tangent?"
Shit, Valerie had plunged right in.
Surely Abby would know there was trouble afoot, thought Brandon.
"Cindy Walsh?" asked Abby. "Why, I haven't talked to her in years. Is she still living in Hong Kong?"
"She and her family are being stalked, actually," said Val. "Maybe you know them. Tom Rose? Immo Rawlins?"
Brandon saw Abby's composure begin to slip.
"Haven't the faintest notion what you're speaking of," she said.
"That's my mother," said Valerie. "Always acting far more oblivious than she actually is. Too bad for her I've caught onto the fact that Abby Malone is a horrible actress. Or should I say Albina Gotti-Malone is a horrible actress?"
Brandon heard the slap before he could do anything about it.
"And likes to smack her children around." Val nursed her reddened cheek.
"You are no child," said Abby.
"I never was," said Val. "Because you and dearest darling," she snarked, "Daddy took away my childhood. Took away Curtis' childhood, and Suzie's. You and Daddy are the same. You should have never had children."
"Get out of my house!" said Abby.
"Not until you tell me what you did to upset Aunt Cindy," said Valerie, "who cares about me way more than you ever pretended to."
"Valerie, I am warning you. Drop this investigation, or -"
"Or what, Mother? What can you possibly do to me?"
"It isn't what I will do to you, Valerie. It is what you will do to yourself."
Brandon peeked through the slight opening in the dumbwaiter, questioning whether he should reveal himself and thwart whatever plan Abby had.
"You can't do anything to me that he didn't already do," said Val. "Now, I want to know what happened at Strawberry Fields that has Cindy so upset and her family under the thumbs of blackmailers. You are going to tell me. I'm not leaving until I get an answer."
"Oh, you're leaving." Abby punched numbers into her mobile and lifted it to her face.
Forgetting his discretion, Brandon clambered out of the dumbwaiter as soon as he heard Abby speak into the phone.
"Val, let's go!" he said.
"Brandon?" asked Abby as she finished her conversation. "What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" asked Brandon. "What are you doing? What did you and my mother do that has to be so secretive that you're throwing Val to the wolves to protect your secret?" Brandon lunged forward to grab at Valerie's wrist. "Come on, Val!"
"No, Brandon," Valerie pulled her hand back. "We aren't leaving until Abby tells us everything."
"She isn't going to," said Brandon. "We need to go, Val. Now."
"I'm not leaving," said Val. "Finding out that secret is the only way to ensure your family - our family - is safe."
Hearing the siren, Brandon realized Valerie had lost her chance at an escape route.
"Tell them, Abby!" he said. "Tell them you lied. Tell them there's no way that Val killed her father."
Valerie wouldn't meet Brandon's eyes.
"Val?" asked Brandon.
"What's going on?" asked David as he burst into the house.
"You were supposed to stay in the car," said Val.
"There's a whole bunch of cops headed this way, Valerie!" said David. "What's going on?" he asked again.
"What's going on is my oldest daughter murdered her father in cold blood," said Abby, "leaving my poor Suzie and Curtis without a father. Five years, Valerie has gotten away with this terrible act. Five years too long."
"That's ridiculous," said Brandon. "Val would never kill anyone, least of all Victor."
"That's what I said!" said David.
Tempted to ask David what he meant, Brandon instead concentrated on Valerie.
"It's over," said Val in defeat. "Finally."
"It's not over," said David. "You didn't kill your father," he told her. "She didn't kill her father!" he yelled out at the pounding on the door.
"It's me!"
David let Kelly in, who asked what was going on.
"What's going on is I killed my father because he was an abusive, slimy, pathetic excuse for a man," said Val. "He yanked away my innocence, so I took his life. And now it's finally caught up to me."
"You're not seriously letting yourself go to jail for this, are you?" asked Kelly. "Valerie, he raped you!"
"He what?" screeched Brandon.
"It's over," said Val again. "It's over."
"We can run," said David as he took her hand. "Flee the country. Go into hiding."
"I'm tired of hiding, David. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of my father's memory following me around everywhere I go; of the memory of his hands on my skin, his legs pressed against mine. I'm so tired."
"I'm not letting you go to jail, Val! You know what they do to murderers in jail?" David tried to shake Valerie out of her stupor. "You killed him, Abby!" he said. "I know you did! It's just a matter of time until the cops know it, too."
"You can't prove anything," said Abby. "But I can." She opened a nearby drawer and withdrew a pistol in a heavy-duty Ziploc bag. "All it'll take is a swipe of this to know my daughter's fingerprints are all over this weapon," she said. "If she had paid attention during the beauty pageant I paid for her to be in, she may have remembered the importance of a nice glove. The silkier, the better."
David stared at Abby.
"I hope you burn in the deepest pyre of Hell," he said. "Brandon, Kelly, help me get Val out of here! She's in shock; that's all it is. She doesn't actually want to go to jail."
The door burst open, this time revealing a squadron of police cars.
"We got a call about a murder?" asked a moustached policeman, his voice heavy with the borough of Staten Island.
"My daughter." Abby pointed towards Valerie. "She has admitted to killing my husband. I want her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
"Are you crazy?" asked Brandon, aware of what that entailed in the state of New York.
It was an option rarely used in the state since the nineteen-sixties, but it was an option available nonetheless.
"It is my daughter who is crazy," said Abby. "Not I."
"Snap out of it, Val!" David tried yet again to lull Valerie back to lucidity.
"I love you, David," she said.
"No, you don't," said David. "You can barely tolerate me, remember? You're pissed as hell at me for betraying your secrets. You can't trust me worth a damn, and only let me share your bed to shut me up. You're annoyed because you think I was jealous of you and Tom. You'd rather share a hotel room with Kelly than share one with me. Don't you dare go telling me you love me now!"
"Take care of them," Valerie told Kelly. "And Brenda."
"You're gonna get off, Val," said Kelly. "You have a strong case for self-defense against your awful father."
Brandon tried to reason with the policemen, but his attempt was useless.
His jaw flopped around as the ghost of Valerie Malone was led away, in cuffs, to await whether she would escape New York's death penalty for convicted murderers.
"We're gonna get you off!" Brandon managed to tell her. "We will!"
"No!" David yelled out, running towards one of the policemen.
He was held back by another and struggled against his hold.
"I'm gonna prove it," he told Abby. "I'm gonna prove that you've been lying through your teeth about everything. That you're the one who killed your husband. Not my Val."
"Such a shame," said Abby. "My daughter really does take innocent young men and turn them into thieving criminals."
"My brother never took anything from you," said Kelly.
"No?" asked Abby. "Search his pockets," she commanded the cop who had restrained David.
"I'll take that," said Abby, snatching at the small diary David had taken.
"David?" asked Kelly.
"It's in there," he said. "Everything we need to know about Cindy; it's in there. Check the first page. 1970."
"He tried to steal my diary," said Abby. "What kind of sick bastard steals a grieving widow's diary?" She turned on the waterworks. "Officer, I ask that this young man be removed from my property immediately. His sister, as well. My godson, on the other hand," Abby turned a lecherous look on Brandon that sent rivulets of ice down his spine, "he can stay."
"I'll leave with them," said Brandon coldly.
"You heard the lady," said the officer.
"Where did Val say Tom lived?" asked Brandon as soon as they were thrust outside.
"A few houses down," said Kelly as she tried to comfort the inconsolable David. "Why?"
"We're getting Tom and going down to the station," said Brandon.
It was when they were headed down to the station in Tom's truck that Kelly opened the top button of her blouse and withdrew what she had stashed inside.
Abby's diary.
"How -" asked Brandon as he gaped at Kelly.
"Hang around Val long enough, you'll learn a few things," said Kelly as she winked. "Well, Woodstein; start doing your digging."
She handed it to Brandon.
He temporarily set it aside, along with his immense pleasure that Kelly had recalled a film they had watched together enough to reference it to him.
"I'll start digging," said Brandon, "after we figure out how much it's gonna cost us to post bond for Val."
Forty thousand dollars, said the station and no, negotiation to bring it down to less was not permitted.
Brandon called the only person he knew with that kind of spare cash, the person he knew would help Valerie to escape the fate she had failed to flee.
If only that person weren't on the other side of the ocean.
And had answered his fucking phone.
xx
The days dragged.
It seemed a millennia since he had seen the small group off at the airport.
Dylan thought it perfectly reasonable to tell Brandon and Valerie over written or verbal correspondence of his reunion with Brenda.
They had expected it anyway, he told Brenda.
Brenda, however, insisted on telling them face-to-face, which meant that Dylan couldn't tell anyone until the Walsh siblings were informed.
He wasn't sure what had been more torturous: watching Brenda with Luca, or having to conceal from Steve and the others that he was back with Brenda.
His mannerisms hardly changed. They were used to seeing Dylan with his hands or lips upon Brenda's skin.
It just meant he had to leave the more romantic gestures to their private moments.
Like kissing every inch of Brenda's exposed upper and lower body, though he purposely avoided her lips.
"Can't I kiss you yet?" Brenda asked.
Dylan loved that he could make Brenda's entire body quake, even with their clothes on.
"I dunno," said Dylan as his hands explored Brenda's skin. "It's only been three days since you broke up with König. People could think kissing me three days later is still jumping."
"Are you making fun of me?" Brenda asked.
"Wasn't it you who wanted us to wait for that same reason?" asked Dylan. He moved further up on Brenda, until his lips were directly near hers.
"How long do we have to wait?" she asked.
Her eyes were pleading, and it made Dylan nearly break his self-imposed no-kissing rule.
He had been close to breaking it that morning, when Andrea had brought Hannah over for a baking session and Brenda had carried Hannah on her hip down the stairs.
It had temporarily paralyzed Dylan, who had been unable to divert his attention from Brenda.
When Brenda had asked him about it, he made up some excuse as to why the moment had affected him with the strength it had.
Brenda didn't know Dylan had once imagined beside a jukebox the scene he had observed play out in front of him.
"I want our last first kiss to be truly spectacular," he said in response to her inquiry. "In every way. Our last second kiss can be in our home, but our last first kiss? Nah, that's one's gotta be memorable for you, babe."
"I bet kissing you is memorable in general."
Dylan didn't cave.
Brenda sighed in defeat and pulled Dylan down beside her.
"Is there anywhere I can kiss you?" she asked.
"Anywhere but the lips," said Dylan.
"You're being really cruel." Brenda jutted out her lip.
"How am I being cruel?"
"You're denying a woman and her hormones. Extremely intense hormones. Bordering on overpowering hormones."
Dylan had noticed.
He had mulled over whether Brenda had kept her hormones contained whilst dating Luca, or if her voracious appetite was her newest symptom.
He had certainly tried to keep his own appetite contained.
"Not denying," said Dylan. "There's just something we gotta do first."
Brenda accepted that answer.
"Then I'll keep it up top." She went for Dylan's chest.
Brenda had always been fond of his chest.
"I've been wondering something," she said.
Dylan made quick work in unbuttoning Brenda's blouse and unsnapping her bra for his lips to find her breasts.
"What have you been wondering?" he asked in-between nips.
He had thought Brenda's chest a work of art from the moment it had first pressed itself against him, in a comforting embrace.
That work of art had transitioned into a masterpiece by the time they had become entangled again in London.
Seeing Brenda's breasts further enlarged, knowing they had stocked themselves with nutrients for Dylan's child; that went beyond a masterpiece.
He couldn't place a proper word for that.
"Wondering," Brenda could hardly get the words out in her obvious satisfaction, "wondering if - God, Dylan, how are your lips so - if - if," she tugged his head up from her breast, where he had just begun to crank out the milk formed for their child, "if you had to choose -"
"You," he said automatically. "I'd choose you."
"You didn't let me finish," said Brenda.
"Go ahead and finish." Dylan resumed his nipping with a strong lack of care to Brenda's impending ultimatum.
What sounded like an ultimatum, at least.
"If something happened," said Brenda, "if you had to choose between me and our baby -"
Dylan's head abruptly jerked up.
That was not an ultimatum.
That was far worse than an ultimatum.
"We are not having this conversation," he said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because I'm not choosing between you two," he said firmly. "Ever."
"I know it's a difficult conversation to have, but if something did -"
"Nothing's gonna," Dylan said with more determination.
He hadn't gotten his family back only to lose them both in childbirth.
If he told Brenda he would still choose her, he would sound like a terrible parent.
But raising their child, alone, without Brenda by his side?
Dylan wouldn't do it.
He didn't have the capacity to do it, both in the physical sense and in the emotional.
His mindset in a world sans Brenda would be a mindset that no child should have to face.
"But if it did -"
"Bren, I'm not making this decision. Even if I was willing to, which I'm not -" Dylan cut himself off.
"Even if?" Brenda pressed.
"Forget it," said Dylan.
"No secrets," Brenda reminded him.
"It's not a secret. It's just not a decision I can make, either way."
"What do you mean?"
"It'd be Brandon's decision." Dylan sat up and scraped his hands through his hair. "Not mine."
Brenda also sat up, albeit with Dylan's help.
"Brandon's decision?" she asked. "But it's your baby."
"He's your POA," said Dylan. "Your closest kin. A decision like that would be made by your closest kin."
"Are you telling me you wouldn't even have the chance to decide what happens to our baby if something were to happen to me?" Brenda's face was aflame. "What kind of archaic shit is that?"
"The same archaic shit that didn't allow me to go in the room with you when we had our scare the first time," said Dylan. "The clinic had a rule. Only spouses were allowed back there. They didn't take any issue with the same sex, so Kel volunteered to go with you. I sat out in the lobby and waited."
"So basically, we have to marry before she's born for you to get the chance to make the decision."
"I'm not gonna marry you if the only reason you're doing it is so I can decide between you and her. I'll be glad to marry you after she's born, if that's the case. I don't want you to think you have to marry me, Bren. If you want to marry me, that's completely different. We aren't gonna treat this like a business arrangement."
"It isn't," said Brenda.
Dylan's words left Brenda to think, as Dylan also mulled over the situation.
His cogitation led him to a display case.
He looked up as the jeweller entered in, carrying a pouch containing the ring Dylan had purchased the day after Brenda had begun to lose her mucus plug.
When he held her and saw the blood, however little it was, he knew he was going to propose sooner rather than later.
It had just been a little matter of getting Brenda to break it off with König first.
The ring Dylan had had in mind required customization; three to six weeks, he was told.
It had been created in three and a half, perhaps with a bit of monetary nudging on his end.
"And the stone can be changed, if needed?" he asked the jeweller.
"Yes, we followed your instructions exactly," Dylan was assured.
Dylan held up the ring, which glinted in the morning light.
Three stones sat intertwined, representing three different birth months.
Together, those birth months made a family, and all three stones were situated perfectly in Brenda's ring.
"Must be a pretty special person," said the jeweller.
"You have no idea how special," said Dylan as he handed over an extra wad of cash without prior thought.
Glancing over towards the window, he froze.
"Shit," he said, and looked at the jeweller. "You don't happen to have somewhere I can hide, do you?"
"Pardon?" asked the jeweller, but Dylan just shook his head and stuffed the pouch into his pocket.
"Never mind." He turned to the newcomer. "Sanders, what are you doing here?"
"Getting an idea of what to get for Clare's birthday," said Steve. He eyed Dylan suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"
"Push present," said Dylan smoothly.
"If it's a push present, why are you hiding it?" asked Steve.
"Maybe because I want Bren to be the first to see it," said Dylan. "Rather than have her hear about it from Clare, who will hear about it from you."
Steve ignored the insult.
"And that's why you're standing near the ring case," said Steve.
"It's a free country," said Dylan. "I can stand wherever."
"Might be wiser to wait for Bren and Luca to break up before you go proposing to her," said Steve, who was not so easily swayed.
Dylan had to get out of there before he broke his promise to Brenda and told Steve.
"I have an appointment," he said to Steve, which was true. "Anklet bracelets are over there," he pointed.
It was an effective distraction, one that allowed Dylan to dart out of the jewellry shop.
Yes, he and Brenda were engaged to be engaged, but if Stuart Carson could bend on one knee with ring in hand and propose to Dylan's girl, then Dylan was damn sure going to do the same.
He booked his and Brenda's tickets, taking a chance on nonrefundable, and headed for his next appointment.
This one, he would rather avoid, but he thought it essential for his journey with Brenda to begin.
"Have you spoken with Brandon?" asked Jim as he handed Dylan a glass of water.
"They're planning to go over to Abby's," said Dylan. "Val told us she's gonna needle Abby until Abby reveals everything. This should all be over soon."
"Thank God." Jim relaxed in his seat. "My daughter? How is she?"
"Anxious to return to work," Dylan replied in a slight chuckle.
"My grandchild? Any news on that front?"
"It's just a waiting game now," said Dylan. "With any luck, she'll stick it out until her aunt and uncle return, but we'll just have to see. That isn't why I called for this meeting, though." He pushed aside his glass.
"If this is about me dropping the case, I've already said that -"
"You'll drop it if we help Cindy," said Dylan. "I know." He waved off Jim's unspoken words. "We're trying to help her. Jim, I'm here because I'm going to propose to your daughter, and I'm trying to do the polite thing here by telling you in advance."
"Are you asking for my blessing?" asked Jim, startled that Dylan would even consider doing so.
"Brenda and I are getting married," said Dylan. "I'm not asking you; I'm telling you. It's happening. I already know she's gonna say yes, but if anyone deserves a romantic proposal especially after the year she's been through, it's Brenda."
"Have you considered it's a bit too soon?" asked Jim.
Too soon my ass, thought Dylan.
"You are only twenty-three," added Jim.
"Did you tell Brandon the same when he stood at the altar with Kelly last spring?" Dylan spat out, unable to help himself.
"No, but my son wasn't suffering from a brain injury," Jim calmly replied. "That combined with the hormones of Brenda's pregnancy should be reason enough to wait."
"Bren's still able to make her own decisions," said Dylan. "Sir, the year I fell in love with your daughter, she ended up in hospital thinking she might have cancer. Do you remember that?"
"I remember," said Jim faintly.
"I've almost died twice since then," said Dylan. "Brenda; she's been injured three times this pregnancy alone and twice, I've waited in the hospital lobby for them to tell me of her wellbeing. Bren and I can be complete without marriage, but when we know how easy and quickly people can have everything snatched away, how easy and quickly we can have everything snatched away, why should we keep putting off what's gonna happen eventually anyway?"
"Dylan, it's only been four years since your wife died."
"I'm aware of that, sir. Exactly how long do you think I should grieve? In another four days, another tragedy could befall any of us. I'm done wasting time. Bren's going to be my wife, and there isn't anything that anyone can do to change that. I don't need to ask for your blessing. Thing is, Jim; right now, Bren doesn't want you in our lives, at all."
"Is this supposed to make me give you my blessing?"
"But someday, she might. I don't want her to look back and regret that she didn't get your blessing over our marriage. I can get it from Cindy, sir, but it would be nice to get it from you both."
"You're putting my daughter and grandchild above everyone else, including yourself?"
"Yes, sir; I am."
Jim contemplated in silence, and then announced that he required time to think it over.
"You can take all the time you need," said Dylan, "but I think what you need to decide is what matters more to you: your pride, or the happiness of your only daughter."
He was reminded of Brenda's similar words when he had been unable to walk away from the drugs.
Drugs had been Dylan's addiction; were Dylan's addiction, that he had continued to recover from.
Power, control; those were Jim's.
Especially when it came to his daughter.
"Because I know for a fact that I can make her indescribably happy, much happier than anyone else can," said Dylan. "I'll spend my life proving it."
"You've lived most of your life in a broken home, Dylan. How can you make my daughter happy if you never experienced a happy family yourself?"
"I've seen yours," said Dylan. "Did you ever question for a moment that Kel would make Brandon happy? She's from a broken home, too. She's experienced addictions, too."
Double standards, he thought; Jim was full of them.
Dylan had been dealing with Jim's double standards from the beginning of his acquaintance with Brenda. He refused to deal with them any longer.
"It's different with Brandon," said Jim. "It just is."
"Is it?" asked Dylan. "With all due respect, sir, the guy who protested 'Nam, the guy who proudly owned a Kawashima, what would he think of what you're saying? Wouldn't he want both of his children to be equally happy, with whomever they themselves chose to be with? Or would he say the kind of shit you're telling me now? Bren knows she can be happy with me. Even Brandon and Val think it's possible. You're the only one still against this. You're isolating yourself."
"We both know you're perfectly content in keeping me out of my granddaughter's life, Dylan."
"I don't want you disrespecting her mother or me to her, but I'm not going to keep a grandfather from his grandchild. I have a lot of happy memories with my grandparents, and I want to give my daughter the same opportunity. If you want your daughter to allow you into her life, if you want to know your grandchild, you gotta stop with these double standards before Bren decides our daughter's better off without you around."
That gave Jim pause.
"And I need you to sign this," Dylan added, taking out a folded paper from his wallet.
"What's this?" asked Jim.
"I want to take Brenda out of the country. Just for the day. We'll be back by nightfall, or around there. I've already cleared it with her doctor." Dylan placed a doctor's note atop the paper. "The court needs your permission to permit it. See, Jim? I'm trying to do everything by the book here. I don't want to make things worse between you and Brenda than they already are, and I really don't want anything that could cause Brenda another break-down in court. Three hospital scares is plenty. We've got three weeks left, and I want Brenda to be as relaxed as possible in those three weeks. I'd appreciate it if you could give me a hand in ensuring that."
Jim twiddled a pen between his thumbs. With a nod, he signed his name to the slip, as if Dylan were a young student permitted to visit a notable battlefield for a school field trip, rather than a grown man wishing to take his girlfriend on a ferry ride across the sea.
Jim did not give Dylan his blessing, but Dylan could see that his speech had given Jim food for thought.
Returning home to an unnervingly quiet house, Dylan convinced himself that Donna and Clare had simply taken Brenda out for the afternoon.
"Bren!" he called on a loop.
"I'm testing out the tub!" came the muffled shout.
Dylan joined Brenda in their bathroom.
"You've already tested out the tub," he said.
"The midwife said my belly has to be submerged if I want to give birth in the tub, instead of a birthing pool," said Brenda. "I was smaller last time I was in the tub, so I had to double-check."
"You sent Donna home to test out our tub?" asked Dylan as he slipped out of his shirt.
He could feel the cocky smile that settled upon his lips as Brenda didn't attempt to hide the way her eyes lapped up his frame.
"I knew you would be home soon," said Brenda. "Test it out with me?"
Dylan didn't have to be asked twice.
He kicked off his jeans and got in behind Brenda.
"Think we can do it?" he asked, pressed against her back.
"We'll need a different hose, but if I'm here, you're right behind me and the midwife can be there, then this should work."
"We could get the birthing pool, just in case."
"I like this position."
"Me too. We'll be able to see her crowning."
"And I don't have to be in yet another fucking hospital bed."
To distract her, Dylan kissed the side of Brenda's neck. "Come away with me?" He slid his lips down to Brenda's shoulder.
"Come where?" she asked.
It looked to Dylan that for a moment, Brenda forgot how to breathe.
"Day trip," said Dylan.
Before he could ask himself whether he should remove himself from Brenda, her breaths resumed.
He didn't mind being the source that shorted Brenda's oxygen supply, but he certainly didn't want that shorting to affect the oxygen supply of their daughter.
"Are we allowed?" asked Brenda.
"I got the permission." Dylan kissed down to Brenda's stomach. "Only thing is we'll have to drive to Helsinki and then take a ferry, so if you feel even the slightest cramp that day, you'll need to tell me. Even if it just feels like your usual back pain. Our daughter won't be born on the sea."
"The surfer doesn't want his daughter born on the sea?"
"The surfer doesn't want his girl to be in intense pain without a medic nearby."
"There could be medics on the ferry."
"Bren."
"I swear if I have even the tiniest cramp, I'll tell you before we board."
That answer satisfied Dylan.
He drove himself and Brenda to Helsinki's Olympia Terminal in the South Harbor, where Brenda stood stunned to see the size of the ferry that would usher them across the Baltic Sea.
Dylan thought it may as well have been a cruise ship.
"Have you ever been on a ship this big?" asked Brenda warily.
"Not this big," said Dylan. "Would you rather we don't get on?"
"Is there another way to the place you have in mind?"
"We'd have to fly."
"Then I guess we're getting on."
Perhaps it was the view from the sea that put Brenda at ease, or the way Dylan held her back tightly against his chest.
"If I sneak the crew a bit of moolah, I could probably get us to the edge," Dylan said into Brenda's ear.
"I saw a movie where they did that," said Brenda.
Dylan had seen it, too; with Brenda and their friends, when the film had still been in theaters.
"You and Mina were singing that Celine Dion song for weeks," he said.
He realized what he had said only after he spoke.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have brought her up."
"No, it's okay." Brenda pivoted until her eyes were on Dylan. "You can tell me about my friends - our friends. It's okay."
"Shouldn't have turned when you did," said Dylan, nodding out to the sea. "You missed an iceberg."
"What?" asked Brenda as she immediately turned back around.
"Gotcha," Dylan laughed as he kissed the birthmark under Brenda's eye. "But you did almost miss that porpoise over there."
"It's such a gorgeous day," Brenda said as she pulled Dylan even closer to her.
"Perfect day to be on the sea," said Dylan.
"Have you crossed the Baltic before?" asked Brenda.
"I haven't, and neither have you," said Dylan in anticipation of Brenda's next question.
"I think I like it," said Brenda.
Dylan also liked the Baltic Sea, particularly the way Brenda remained in his arms as they stared out at the passing houses.
He could see himself in one of those houses, an isolated cabin on an island with no one nearby but Brenda and their children.
The winters, however, would have been dreadful. As a son of California, Dylan liked his winters to at least be somewhat mild.
"Brenda?" asked an unfamiliar voice. "Brenda Walsh? Is that you?"
Brenda stiffened, as she always did when approached by someone unknown.
Or two people, one of whom was definitely not unknown.
"Brenda Walsh and Dylan McKay," said the second. "Well, I'll be damned. Isn't this a blast from the past!"
"Do we know you?" asked Brenda.
"I'm a little hurt you forgot your favorite tour guide," said the second person Dylan had hoped to never see again. "Is this because I got on too well with your dad?"
"Favorite tour guide?" asked Brenda. "Got on well with my dad?" Brenda looked at Dylan for help.
"Rick," Dylan forced out, "what brings you to this side of the world?"
"This is Rick?" asked Brenda. "You're Rick?"
"Alright, I'll bite," said Rick. "Yes, I'm attorney Rick Harrington, specializing in freeing clients from the death penalty - especially if they were wrongly convicted - and this is my wife, the love of my life, my Darla -"
"Formerly Hansen," said Darla Harrington, a woman with long strawberry blonde hair twisted into a perfect ballet bun. "Damn, Bren, it's been how many years?"
"I don't know," said Brenda, making herself as small as possible.
Dylan didn't like where the conversation was going.
"Is she alright?" asked Darla.
"She's nine months pregnant, as you can see. Due any day now. We took a chance with the ferry, and it would seem Bren's starting to feel it." Dylan spoke to Darla, but made a point to look at Rick as he spoke. "Now if you'll excuse us, I think my Bren could use a break from standing. Her feet get so tired from bearing the weight of our kid, you know, which she does so well."
"We could join you," said Darla.
Brenda looked terrified at the idea.
"It's our anniversary," said Dylan.
"Oh," said Darla. "Then you'll want to be alone. That's understandable. Come on, darling. Let's leave these lovebirds in peace."
"Great to see ya, Brenda," said Rick as he followed behind his wife. "And remember; if you ever need a good lawyer, you know who to call."
Dylan considered wiping the arrogant grin straight off of Richard Harrington's face, as Dylan had also considered doing from his first encounter with the man when Rick had chosen to involve himself in matters that did not concern him.
Rick flicked out his business card, which floated to the deck of the ship.
"It's Bren," said Dylan behind Rick's back. "And I doubt he's any better than Durning."
"Who's Darla?" asked Brenda. "She apparently knew me."
"Beats me." Dylan prevented Brenda from bending to pick up the business card by swiping it himself. "Maybe Brandon knows."
Dylan walked Brenda into the comfort lounge where fruit and sweets awaited them.
"You really shouldn't spoil me this much," said Brenda, having already put the upsetting interaction out of her mind.
Dylan tried to do the same, but he couldn't stand that Rick Harrington, or the reminder of how Rick would have never been able to swoop in on Brenda had Dylan not hurt her by becoming involved with Kelly.
Better Rick than Carson, thought Dylan, though he would have gladly avoided both.
"Admit it," Dylan fed Brenda slices of cantaloupe, "you like when I spoil you."
"Maybe just a little." Brenda began feeding Dylan.
Dylan smacked his lips together and enjoyed seeing the barely-concealed lasciviousness that invaded Brenda's eyes.
She wants me, he thought. She wants me real bad.
Rick's barely a blip in her past. I'm her past, present, and future. I'm the story she'll tell our grandkids, with my help. Rick is nothing to her.
Literally.
The velvet pouch burnt a hole in Dylan's wallet, which seared into his pocket.
They entered their destination on schedule, a little over two hours after their departure from Helsinki.
"Tallinn?" asked Brenda. "We're in Estonia?"
"Brandon heard about it while he was in Tartu," said Dylan. "Their old town, Vanalinn, is said to be pretty magical."
"Then I say we check out Vanalinn," said Brenda as she linked her hand with Dylan's.
Dylan opened the door to a taxi.
Brenda asked the taxi driver how far Vanalinn was from the terminal, then reached out her hand to close the door.
"Let's walk," she said.
"Are you sure?" asked Dylan.
"Yes," said Brenda. "It's only ten minutes away by foot and it's so beautiful out. I want to walk."
Dylan apologized to the driver, who uttered something about Americans that Dylan didn't understand before the driver moved on to the next customer.
Brenda walked with her head on Dylan's shoulder and Dylan's arm slung around her waist.
They sat in the center of old Tallinn, settling in to watch a performance from a local orchestral band.
Brenda's applause was thunderous, and it made Dylan ecstatic to see Brenda enjoying herself.
"Maybe surprises aren't so bad when you plan them," she said.
"Can I get that in writing?" he asked.
"Or maybe it's just because I'm so in love with you," said Brenda.
Dylan would never get enough of hearing Brenda acknowledge her love for him.
He dropped a couple hundred of kroon into the lead violinist's case.
"You can't possibly be as in love with me as I'm in love with you," said Dylan.
"Can so," said Brenda.
"I've moved to a whole other country for you, twice," said Dylan. "Two different countries, both with miserable winters."
"And I'm carrying your baby," said Brenda, unfairly marking herself the clear winner.
Dylan led Brenda into an area out of the way from other tourists, a colorful place of old buildings and blooming plants where they could be alone.
"Look at that building, Bren." Dylan pointed at the building across from them. "It's got to be thousands of years old. Can you imagine all the people who've lived in that building? All the stories they had to tell? All the hardships they faced, and the victories they experienced? The families they created?"
By the time Brenda turned back around, Dylan had dropped down to one knee, the ring held firmly between his fingers.
"Oh my God," said Brenda.
"This isn't exactly a proposal," said Dylan. "I've already done that. You've done that. Us getting married is pretty much in the bag. But this is me, telling you that I love you. This life you and I have begun to construct together, I know it will be our greatest adventure. You've already been my greatest adventure, Bren. And even though we already agreed to marry, I wanted to make sure you still had a memorable moment when I gave you this ring, a moment as spectacular as you've made my life by choosing to be in it."
"I - I don't know what to say." Brenda held her hands to her mouth. "That must have cost thousands of markka -"
"Don't worry about how much it cost," said Dylan. "Nothing I ever buy for you will match the riches you've given me, throughout our time together. When I saw this ring, I knew it had to be yours, whatever the price tag."
"It's our birthstones," said Brenda. "Mine, yours, and hers."
Two intertwined hearts surrounded a smaller heart, set by sapphires.
"Read the engraving," said Dylan as he urged Brenda to take the ring.
"My darlin'," Brenda squinted to read the tiny cursive, "the clarity of the Auroras may wane, but our love will never diminish."
"It also opens," said Dylan as he showed her. "You can put a picture of our family in there…if you want. I figured the sapphires would let you carry a little piece of the ocean in our day-to-day lives."
"It's - it's incredible, Dylan. You put so much thought into it and - and it's stunning. I really don't know what to say."
"Say you'll marry me." Dylan took the ring from Brenda to put on her finger.
It fit only on Brenda's pinkie finger, but Dylan figured that was close enough.
"Not after she's born," he said. "As soon as Brandon and Val return. Jim might drop the case; he might not. Let's not waste another moment, Brenda; not to avoid Hong Kong, but because we want to fulfill a dream we began to share years ago. We already know it's gonna happen. Why wait?"
"Let's do it." Brenda urged Dylan to stand. "Let's elope. Before she's born."
"Are you serious?" asked Dylan.
"Very," said Brenda, her eyes alight in ample amounts of excitement. "I want to be your wife. I don't want to wait."
Dylan whooped and swung the laughing Brenda around.
"Now can I kiss you?" she asked, still in his arms.
"It's bad luck if you don't kiss your fiancée," said Dylan. "Official fiancée. Ring and all."
Their faces lowered as they had often done since he had found her, but this time, their lips met in a luminous explosion that Dylan felt certain Brenda experienced in her knees the way he did in his.
They broke apart only at the vibration in Dylan's pocket.
Dylan cursed and returned to kissing Brenda.
"You should get that," said Brenda against his lips.
"It can wait," said Dylan, as he further explored her mouth.
Still kissing him, Brenda reached into Dylan's pocket to retrieve his mobile.
"It's Brandon," she said, withdrawing from Dylan in her concern.
"Your brother has the worst timing," Dylan sighed. "We're forbidding technology of any kind at our wedding."
"Does that mean no music?" asked Brenda.
"Music is the exception," said Dylan.
"No photos?"
"Not if Silver's holding the camera."
Dylan gestured for Brenda to give him the phone, but Brenda stepped away from him and smiled as she held the phone up to her ear.
"I like David's videography skills," she said. "His videos helped bring me back to you."
"Then I guess he can hold the camera," said Dylan.
Almost immediately after he had spoken, Brenda drew in a sharp breath. The phone slipped out of her grasp.
Dylan's anxiety ramped up.
"Bren?" he asked.
"They've arrested Val." Brenda spoke in a voice that sounded as distant as the Pacific from their location. Her face was awash in a shade of ashen that Dylan didn't like to see on his fiancée. "Her - her mother had her arrested. For - for killing her father."
"What?" asked Dylan.
"Val's in jail," said Brenda.
"Why the fuck is Val in jail?"
"Because Abby's a psychotic bitch," said Brenda. "She probably killed her own husband, just to pin it on my poor sister."
"I - I thought Val's dad committed suicide," Dylan squeaked out, recalling how freaked Valerie had been over his ownership of a gun she said her father had turned on himself.
"Brandon said - he said," Brenda deeply inhaled, "he said David - David knew; he knew."
"David knew what?" asked Dylan.
"Forty thousand," Brenda uncontrollably shivered, "forty thousand…she needs forty thousand…thou…thou-sand…"
Brenda's knees buckled, sending her sailing straight into Dylan's reflexive hold.
"Brenda!" He shook her shoulder. "Brenda!" He shook her other shoulder. "Fucking hell! No!" He tore at the buttons of Brenda's blouse, in the event that it would reinvigorate Brenda to feel the rush of air streak against her skin. "No! Not again! C'mon, Bren; open your eyes!" He rubbed his hands over her chest. "Open your goddamn eyes!"
Covering her lips with his, he received no response.
Dylan feared Brenda's blood pressure had skyrocketed with Brandon's news and sent her vulnerable body into overdrive.
If that was the case, there was only one place for him to go.
Dylan picked Brenda up with the help of a nearby shop owner and asked for the directions to the nearest hospital.
His ring glittering from Brenda's pinkie as he carried her in the direction the owner had said, Dylan hoped against hope that he wouldn't have to alter the smaller birthstone mere days before the new month.
That hope was minimal in comparison to the much more fervent hope that Dylan wouldn't have to make the choice Brenda had asked him to make.
The choice he refused to make.
The choice he would rather swallow hot coals straight from a ship's boiler room than make.
The one he would not be permitted to make, even if he could bring himself to choose.
-x
Might I be a bit in love with Tallinn, particularly Vanalinn? Perhaps.
Sources: Google and the websites for Eesti Pank, Parents, WGRZ, plus personal experience.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you whose review I could respond to directly. KJ, there's just something about Steve with Clare that I love more than him with anyone else, and you know I gotta include my David/Val everywhere possible!)
Thanks a million! x