A/N: Another quick update! Who even AM I?! This is a two-part chapter :-) Part two shouldn't be too far behind, so don't worry!
Hope you enjoy!
September 5, 1988 | Henry
"It's getting crazy out there." Henry says, setting the few bags of groceries down on the counter that his mother had sent him to get.
The Labor Day parade was always a big hit in Pittsburgh, and this year was no different. With his dad being a union worker, he never understood why Patrick didn't ever want to participate in the parade.
"Can we please go watch the parade, Dad?" Henry asked, standing next to his mother in the kitchen while she cooked Patrick's breakfast.
Patrick didn't even look up from his paper, "That parade is a load of bullshit."
"Patrick!" Elaine scolded, and Henry's head jerked around with his eyes wide, staring at his mom to see what she'd say next about Patrick's language. "He's four! He doesn't need to hear that."
"He'll hear it eventually." Patrick grumbled, straightening his paper out.
"You don't go to the parade?" Elizabeth asks, carrying the bag of bread with her and laying it on the counter next to the others.
Henry shakes his head and shrugs, "We weren't ever allowed to as kids. Haven't tried as an adult, but I have a feeling ol' Patrick McCord wouldn't let me even now." He teases, then looks back at the dining room table real quick. "Speaking of…where is the old man?"
Elaine shrugs her shoulders, giving a little sigh. "He's been gone pretty much all weekend at some warehouse." She explains, continuing to scramble some eggs. "He didn't tell me what he was doing, and I didn't ask." She says and shrugs once more like it was none of her business.
He looks back at Elizabeth who is giving him a look as if to say, "you better never just leave without telling me where you're going." He shrugs and begins putting the groceries away.
After breakfast had been served, Shane and Erin promptly left to go ride bikes with the neighbors down the street. "Just be back before the lights are on!" Elaine shouted at them as they basically ran out of the house with full bellies. Henry looks over at Elizabeth and takes her hand, "Want to go for a ride?" He asks, "We might see parts of the parade even."
She shrugs and smiles, "Sure." She says, "Let me help your mom with the dishes first." She adds, standing up and taking their plates to the sink where Elaine had already begun cleaning the skillet she'd used for the eggs. After Elizabeth finishes drying the dishes for Elaine, she and Henry head out to his Bronco and drive down the less-busy streets of Pittsburgh.
"Isn't that your dad's truck?" Elizabeth asks, the shock apparent in her tone since they've made their way out of the heart of Pittsburgh and into more of the outskirts of the bustling city. An old warehouse isn't the place either of them expected to see Patrick, obviously. "What's he doing there?"
Henry's head whips around to look out the passenger window, slowing down while trying to not look too suspicious. As soon as he sees the old Dodge, he knows it's his dad's. "That's him." He says, then slows down and pulls over on the side of the road. "Why's he at this place?" He asks, mostly to himself since Elizabeth didn't know the answer any better than he did, surely.
"Surely he's not…" Elizabeth's voice trails off as she sheepishly moves her head to look at Henry.
He feels his blood start to boil, knowing what she was suggesting could very possibly be true. It probably wouldn't have been the first time he cheated on his wife. "Stay in the car." Henry instructs.
"Henry, you shouldn't—"
"I'm asking you, please, to stay in the car." He interjects, giving her a stern look. "I won't do anything I'll regret. I just don't want you caught up in it, that's all." He says before opening the door and sliding out. Before he shuts it, he faces her again, "Please stay here."
"I will." She finally answers begrudgingly. He smirks on the inside when he sees her pouty face, knowing it drives her crazy to not be in on the action. He wouldn't mind her being there at all, he's just never sure about his dad. He's always been like a bomb—you just never know if it's ready to explode or not.
He shuts the door and looks back once to make sure she isn't getting out, and she gives a sarcastic look and throws a thumbs-up at him. He laughs and throws one back at her playfully before turning back to the warehouse, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Don't lose it, Henry." He tells himself, trying to relax his fists as he walks closer and closer to the building.
Reaching for the door, he takes one more breath in, closing his eyes and focusing on those cardinal virtues he'd been learning about from the great Aquinas. Especially trying to focus on justice and temperance right now.
He yanks the door open and looks around, expecting to find the worst. Instead, he finds Patrick surrounded by huge machinery with pictures strung across some of the machines. "Dad?" He asks, all the anger dropping from his body and turning into confusion.
Patrick whips around, "Henry!" He exclaims, "You got to warn a man…"
"Well, I didn't expect to see you here, exactly." Henry says, walking in and looking around with his brows furrowed. "What is this place? Whose place is this, more importantly?" He asks, thinking about the fact that they could very possibly be trespassing, knowing his father.
Patrick turns away from Henry and continues what he was doing before he'd been startled, "This is Cecil Williams." He says, holding up a photo that was on the machine beside him. His back is turned to Henry, but he's holding it up and over his shoulder for his son to see.
Henry walks a little closer, trying to get a better look at the black and white photo in a carefully cleaned glass frame. The young man, Cecil, apparently, couldn't have been older than sixteen.
"He was asked to clean the dust out from under one of the furnaces on May 2nd, 1902. It was a Friday, and they were all just about to leave for the day," Patrick explains, his hand getting a little shakier as he talks. "Cecil crawled underneath the blast furnaces, like he'd probably done thousands of times, and all of a sudden there was a slippage of molten fuel. Tons of it." Patrick stops and clears his throat, "That fiery-hot dust fell right on top of him and buried him alive."
Henry shudders as he thinks about that—about being buried alive, but also about being buried alive by something that is also burning you to death. He rubs his hand over his forehead just as Patrick is turning around, and he thinks this might be the first time he's ever heard his dad's voice crack as he speaks again.
"All these men," he says, looking around at the pictures, "These are the men who made Labor Day what it is. These are the men who need to be honored and memorialized. We don't need parades and a bunch of the other bullshit that they do." He says, his voice getting angrier and deeper as he continues on, "I come here to pay my respects to these guys, and to all the men who gave us safer workplaces." He explains.
Henry clears his throat, trying to not sound as moved as he feels. He nods, but cracks a grin, "Whose place is this?"
"Mine." Patrick answers.
Henry looks at him with wide eyes, then squints, "You're lying." He says.
"Swear on my grave." He says.
Henry squints at him and looks around, "You bought this?"
"I couldn't let the city take over one more factory and bulldoze it, son." He says, "Your mom has no idea, and I need it to stay that way."
He looks around a little more and then drops his head to look at Patrick, shutting his mouth that had been gaping while he took in all the huge, fatal machinery around him, "Mom doesn't know?" He asks.
"You deaf, son?"
Henry starts to speak, then scratches his head, "Dad—"
"Son, there are just some things you have to keep private. Some things you have to keep to yourself." He says. "This is mine. It doesn't hurt anyone. I open it to the public as a little museum—I collect donations. It's enough to keep the property taxes paid." He explains.
Henry looks around again and shakes his head, "You've gotta tell mom."
"I don't want anyone to know who runs this place, Son." Patrick says, the sternness in his voice turning his statement into an order. "How the hell did you even find me?"
"Elizabeth and I were out taking a drive."
"Elizabeth's with you?" Patrick spits, "Shit."
"She's in the truck." Henry replies, "I'm not going to lie to her, but she'll keep your secret, too. She won't tell mom unless you ever decide you want her to."
"I wouldn't tell her to tell Elaine, anyway." Patrick grumbles, going back to another photo frame with his rag, cleaning the glass.
Henry sighs, "Dad," he says tiredly, "Come on…why do you have to be like that to Elizabeth?"
Patrick shakes his head, "Like what? I'm just saying I'd never ask her to tell my wife one of the biggest secrets I've ever kept from her."
"One of—" Henry starts to call him out, but just shakes his head and decides to pick that fight another time. "Dad, Elizabeth…Elizabeth's going to be my family."
"Good for you." Patrick mumbles.
"No," Henry says, becoming a little louder and stronger, "You've never listened to me on anything, Dad. This is the one thing that I need from you as your oldest son, to please, for the love of God, just listen to me this one time. I need you to understand that she's the one."
Patrick continues cleaning with his back turned to Henry, then sets the photo frame down as if he were here alone. He turns eventually, leaning his side against the machine, "I hear you, son. I always have heard you." He admits. His tone is so soft that it surprises Henry, "She's too good for you, Henry. And I don't mean that in a way you—"
"Too good?" He asks in shock. Henry laughs a little, shaking his head, "Wow, Dad, I know I'm not much, but I'd like to think I have a little something going for me."
"That's not what I mean," Patrick says, "She's not one of us."
"Maybe I don't want her to be one of you." Henry says, folding his arms as he tries to not get up in his dad's face. "Maybe I like her because she's nicer than all of us put together, with the exception of Mom. Maybe I like her because she so desperately wants to be a part of us, even though you guys really haven't made her feel all that welcome." Henry argues. "Maybe she is too good for me. Maybe she'll discover in a few years that she can't stand me, and some boarding school chum will come back and sweep her off her feet. But I don't think that'll happen, Dad, because she really loves me." He states, swallowing hard when he thinks of just how gracious she's been over the last few weeks. Only someone with a true, deep love can forgive that many things.
Patrick turns away and starts cleaning another frame, "Sounds like you're going to marry the girl." He says.
"I am." Henry answers without hesitating, "As soon as I can save up a little money, I plan on buying her a ring."
His dad looks at him briefly before setting the frame down, clearing his throat and tossing the rag on top of the frame. For a moment, Henry wonders if he's about to fight him. "I've always known this was going to happen," He thinks, "I knew we'd come to blows eventually." His fists start to ball up before Patrick turns and walks away to some little room—almost looks like a closet. Henry starts to follow him but stops himself, just observing. When he can't see Patrick anymore, he takes another look at the largeness of this place and gets overwhelmed once more. By the time he's taken another sweep around the room, Patrick is coming out of the little closet-like room with a small bag in his hand.
He walks up to Henry and grabs his son's wrist, somewhat forcefully plopping the bag down in his palm. "Here," he says, closing Henry's fingers around it. "It was my mother's ring." He explains, "She died after I proposed to your mom, or otherwise I'd have given it to Elaine." He looks into Henry's eyes and nods, "Give her something she deserves, since she's better than us anyway."
An almost-touching moment had Henry feeling like he could burst, but then of course he had to throw in a drag about Elizabeth. "Thanks, Dad." He says, trying to sound more sincere than he felt. It was a nice gesture, still, even with the comment. "Really." He says, wrapping an arm around Patrick's shoulder and giving him a tight squeeze before he can back away.
Patrick awkwardly returns the hug, patting his son on the back, "Be good to her, Son." He mumbles in Henry's shoulder.
For a moment, Henry wonders if he regrets the way he's treated Elaine all these years—and still sometimes the way he treats her. He's pretty sure he's not physical with her—at least not anymore—but he still talks down to her. Yet, after all these years, Elaine has still stayed with him. So maybe he's better to her than Henry thinks, or maybe she's someone who sees the good in him even through all the bad. Even so, he makes a mental note that he never wants Elizabeth to have to sift through all the bad like Elaine does with Patrick. He wants to radiate goodness for her. "I will," Henry answers genuinely, "I'm surprised she's not in here looking for me yet. I told her to stay in the car because…" Henry laughs sheepishly and looks down at the bag in his hand, "Well, I thought you were cheating on Mom."
"In this old place?" Patrick asks, "Son, I have better taste than that." He says before turning back to his frames.
Henry just watches him for a moment, then swallows back the lump in his throat, "I'll see you later." He says, turning and walking back out to his truck. Before he goes out the door, he peeks in the bag and drops the ring out into his palm. He pinches it between his thumb and index finger, holding it up in front of his face for a moment and letting the little sliver of morning sunlight shine on the diamonds. "Fit for a queen," He thinks, giving a little grin to himself as he tucks the ring back in the bag and into his back pocket.
When he gets back out to the truck, Elizabeth is ready to pounce. "What happened?" She asks, "Who was he with? What was—"
"Nothing," Henry says honestly, "He's told me to keep this a secret, but I can't keep it from you." He says, "He's made a…kind of a memorial for the steel workers." He explains, "He says he runs it as a museum that takes donations."
"He owns that place?" Elizabeth asks, her voice cracking with shock.
Henry nods as he puts the truck in drive, "Yep." He answers, "And he wants no one knowing, so if it gets out, he'll know it was either you or me who said it." He warns.
Elizabeth just looks at him, and Henry can feel her staring a hole through his cheek. He wonders if he's acting suspicious with this ring in his back pocket, wonders if he's wearing a smirk on his face that he's unable to control. But finally, she turns and looks at the road, "Wild." She mumbles.
September 6, 1988 | Elizabeth
She's not sure why he's acted so weird since yesterday, but the whole drive back to Charlottesville it was like he was wanting to say something yet was dead silent unless she started the conversation. She wondered a few times if she maybe scared him with the marriage talk, then laughed to herself because she's the one who scares herself with the marriage talk. He'd marry her tomorrow if she'd let him, she's pretty sure. She never asked what the problem was, but instead was just try to carry on with normal conversations as if nothing weird was happening.
"Remember," she'd told him this morning on her way out the door, "We have to go to the bank after class today. We get finished at the same time so just meet me in the parking lot and we'll ride together."
"Got it, Elizabeth," Henry breathed, "For the third time, I've got it." He said, but she could tell he was being playful. It still made her want to hit him a little.
"I better not be stranded in the parking lot waiting for you, McCord."
"You won't be." He replied before she stepped out the door.
She was just about to get back in her car and drive herself to the bank before she heard his Bronco rolling up, "Sorry, I know I'm late." He says, jumping out of the door and walking over to her side hastily, opening the door for her. "Dr. Mitchell and I had a quick chat after class."
"Should I be worried?" She blurts out jokingly, climbing up in the passenger seat.
Henry laughs while he has her door standing open, "Maybe," he teases, "Nah, he's just been a really good mentor to me lately."
She nods and smiles, "I like that." She admits, "As long as I have nothing to worry about." She teases.
He smirks before closing the door and heading over to his side to climb in.
"Will knows we're coming to get him at the bus station, right?" Henry asks during their drive.
She nods, "Yep. I told him we'd be there at 2:00 to get him."
She looks down in her lap at the folder she's carried with her. She knows what all is in there, but some anxious piece of her wants to check and make sure she got everything one more time—even though she's done it twenty times since this morning, probably. Giving into those obsessive desires, she opens the folder and thumbs through the papers—Will's birth certificate, her own birth certificate and her social security card, and her driver's license were still neatly tucked in there. She'd told Will to bring his social security card and his license, so she can only pray he actually listened to her. It wouldn't surprise her if he forgot.
When they pull into the bus station, she immediately sets her eyes on her little brother. Her not-so-little brother, that is. Sibling intuition told her that this is William Adams, her kid-brother, but she has to wonder if it's a different person entirely. This isn't a kid, this is a man. Where the hell is Will her brother? Henry parks up by the curb and she gets out, hugging him around his neck tightly. "Hey kid," she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can protest.
"Hey sis," Will answers, looking over at Elizabeth and giving a little smirk, "I see you're digging the beard."
"I am not digging the beard." She says, still staring at all the facial hair that's coming out of his skin. She frowns and scrunches her nose, "Why has no one told you this looks like—"
"Pubic hair?" He asks, "They have." He says and shrugs, grabbing his suitcase from his side, "I like it, though, makes me feel like a man."
Elizabeth snorts and looks over at Henry who is walking up beside her, extending his hand to her kid-brother. "Will," Elizabeth says, "This is my boyfriend Henry McCord. Henry, this is my little brother, Will." She states.
They shake each other's hands and Henry laughs, "I don't think you can call him your kid-brother when he's taller than you, babe." He instructs.
Will rolls his eyes dramatically, "She's been in denial about me being taller than her since three Christmases ago."
"You were barely taller than me that year." She barks, "And your voice was cracking and squeaky and—"
"At least I still grew." He retorts.
Elizabeth's mouth hangs open as she stares at him, "On second thought," she says, "Find your own way to the bank."
Will laughs and shakes his head, "Oh no, you're stuck with me now." He says before Henry takes his bag and tosses it in the back door of his Bronco.
"Get in before I hit you." Elizabeth says dryly.
Henry snorts, "Babe," He says, "He can totally take you. You're, like, ninety pounds soaking wet."
She raises her brows and smirks, "I like the way you lie, Henry McCord, but no, he can not take me. I'm still his big sister."
"We'll see." Will says, climbing into the Bronco's terribly small back seat.
Elizabeth watches as he climbs back there and her face suddenly gets hot. She waits until Henry's walking around the front of the vehicle to catch him, grabbing his hand and holding him back, "Please tell me you got my bra out of there."
He laughs quietly and bites his lip, "I did." He says, "It's under my front seat. Saw it before I got out just now."
"You're a life saver." Elizabeth breathes, giving him a sweet and quick hug while Will is yelling something about PDA from the back seat.
When they get in and start driving, Will is the first to say anything, "So," he says, "Some chunk of cash, huh?"
Elizabeth looks in the back seat via the visor mirror, shrugging and widening her eyes, "Yeah," she answers.
A silence rode along with them for a few moments, but Will speaks again, "Liz," that gets her attention and also makes her feel as though the breath is ripped from her. Only her family ever called her Liz, and she'd forgotten how much she'd missed it, "What did Mom and Dad even do to get this much money?"
She rides quietly for a while, looking down in her lap and toying with the manila folder. What did they do? Mom was a bank teller, she'd always known that much, but their dad? He went away on conferences a lot, she remembered that, but it never occurred to her as a child to ask what he did for work every single day. "Honestly?" She sighs, "I have no idea. We knew Mom worked at Virginia Trust when she died."
Will is so quiet that she has to glance up in the mirror and check to be sure he hadn't suddenly fallen asleep. When she looks back, he makes eye contact with her—he'd been watching her. "So why are all their finances—"
"Being handled at Commonwealth Commerce?" She finishes for him, giving Henry an eye to remind him they've had this conversation. He simply glances over at her, twisting his lips as he listens. "Good question. I'm guessing Aunt Patty and Uncle Don changed it all over to Commonwealth. They probably banked with them." She says, wondering if it were too simple of an explanation.
Her mind wanders away from this conversation to a few years back before her parents had gotten in the wreck.
"Why do you never answer whenever I call the bank?"
"Because I'm working, honey," Suzanne answered, "What is it? Is something wrong?"
Elizabeth groaned, "Will is being an absolute brat right now and I'm supposed to be going to Sarah's house tonight, but you're not home yet."
Suzanne was quiet for a while, and Elizabeth made a huffing noise. "I'm here," she said, "Just leave him at home by himself. I'll be home soon."
"How soon? He's ten."
"I am well aware, Liz," she retorted, "He's the same age you were when I let you stay home by yourself."
"And I'm way more responsible than him."
"Give him some credit."
"He's a little—come back here!" She yelled, dropping the phone to leave it dangling on the cord as she runs down the hall and catches him.
"What even is this?" He taunted, standing and dancing around with her bra on his head. "And why's it pink? Who's going to see it?"
"Give it back!"
"Are you really going to Sarah's?"
"I'm going to Sarah's if you'd leave me alone!" Elizabeth yelled, yanking her bra from his head and tucking it in her side, walking back to the phone and fuming. "Fine, I'm leaving him. Hope he doesn't burn the house down." She grumbled before hanging the phone back up.
"Right," Will says, looking out the window now as the buildings zoom by. "Have—" he stops himself, looking at Henry.
Elizabeth catches that little move and shakes her head, "I trust Henry with my life," she says, "What were you going to say?"
He looks down, thumbing his wallet in his lap just like she was doing with the folder, "Have you ever wondered if they were…" she watches as he tries to find the words to say, and he finally just gives up and shrugs, shaking his head. "I don't know. It's probably stupid."
She sighs and lets her head fall backwards against the seat, closing her eyes, "When they died, I let myself spiral and wonder what happened. It couldn't have been a simple answer like a car wreck. Two perfectly good drivers don't just…wreck." She says and laughs sadly, opening her eyes and looking at the road, "But they're called accidents for a reason." She adds, trying to sound sure of herself. "I have wondered. But I don't think that it's a possibility."
"Right," he says again, looking out the window and staying quiet the rest of the trip.
When they pull into the bank, they all get out together and make sure they have their identification. Henry was just along for moral support, basically, so he was listening in to make sure everyone had everything. They walk into the lobby to find one woman sitting at the desk, "Hello," she greets them, "Are you the Adams?"
Elizabeth widens her eyes as she glances quickly over at Henry, "We are." She says, "How did you—"
"Oh," the woman says, "Let me introduce myself. I'm Janice," she says, standing up and extending her hand. Will was in the front of the pack, so he shakes her hand first, then Elizabeth, and then Henry.
"This is my boyfriend, Henry," Elizabeth says, gesturing to the man standing beside her.
"If I could just see your IDs," Janice says, "But Henry will have to stay out in the lobby area."
Elizabeth frowns and looks at her with squinted eyes, "Why?"
"It's protocol."
She furrows her brow and looks up at Henry, starting to feel incredibly uneasy about this whole situation. "Protocol." She murmurs, digging her identification out of her folder, "Right," she says.
Will's looking at her, and she can tell by the look on his face that he, too, is suddenly suspicious of all this. He digs his ID out of his wallet anyway and hands it over to the woman, adding the folder along with it.
"Thank you, Mister and Miss Adams," Janice says, pressing a button. They hear a buzzing while she gestures to the door, "Go ahead and push in on it, it'll take you to the hall where you'll met with Mr. Jones."
Elizabeth nods suspiciously, looking back at Henry, "I'll be back soon." She says, following Will to the door.