Life had become measured in a series of messages.
Messages from Steve and his family. Messages from the specialists that Clare had reached out to, at the suggestion of her team.
A complicated individual who had passed on that complexity to his son, Rush Sanders had, at times, been something of an enigma to Clare. She hadn't questioned whether Rush had loved his son, but she had questioned whether Rush's love for Steve came with conditions.
If it had previously, gone were the days when Steve would have to enact foolhardy schemes in a ploy for his father's affection.
In Clare's last visit to Los Angeles, she had seen Rush's vulnerability with Steve, the way Steve had known exactly how to care for his father after a particularly trying day of Rush's chemotherapy.
Clare had vowed to Steve that if there was any chance the research Clare engaged in on a daily basis could help ease Rush's battle, Clare would take it.
That did mean that her visits out west were short, that her time with Steve was short.
It did mean that when she was home, quite a distance away from Steve, her mind would wander.
It had initially wandered in the direction of Janet Sosna, a woman who Clare thought may have made a perfectly fine significant other for Steve in another life where Steve hadn't reunited with Clare. It had been Donna who had made the introductions, during a luncheon between Donna and her D'Shawn, Janet and her boyfriend Jordan, and Steve with the bit of time he had with Clare.
They had been joined by a passing Gina Kincaid attached to the hip of Noah Hunter, who had both been more pleasant to Donna than Clare had expected them to be.
Donna, as ever, had been the epitome of grace and class in the face of her cousin's relationship with her ex.
"Doesn't it bother you?" Clare had asked.
"Does what bother me?" asked Donna.
"You and Noah dated for a while, didn't you?" asked Clare. "Surely it bothers you for your cousin to be dating him now."
"Will I lie and say it isn't weird?" asked Donna. "No, I won't, but he also dated Val, and David dated me. Neither Val nor myself have a problem with either of those things, so there's no reason I should have a problem with Gina."
"Despite Noah cheating on you with her?"
"Maybe he wouldn't've if I hadn't been secretly thinking of D'Shawn," Donna had lowered her head, "sometimes even when me and Noah were in bed together."
"No!" Clare had gasped theatrically. "Donna Martin, how could you?"
"I guess we all wanted something we didn't think we could have," said Donna.
Clare certainly had, and perhaps that was why the long-distance relationship she and Steve had engaged in had begun putting her ill at ease.
She didn't want to mention her concerns to Steve, who would instantly assume Clare had suffered from a loss of faith.
She hadn't.
Not really.
She trusted Steve more than she ever had before.
She did not, however, trust time, or distance.
Clare had been messaging with Janet when she had read the news.
Celeste Lundy has returned? typed yeahitsclaredontstare.
I don't think it's anything of concern, messaged gonnasmashthatceiling. Don wasn't too concerned.
She wasn't concerned that Steve's One Who Got Away is back in LA?
I thought Kelly was Steve's One Who Got Away.
One thing you'll learn about Steve Sanders, Janet, is he has multiple Ones Who Got Away. I was just one of them.
You're a lot more to him than that, Clare. He talks about you constantly. Sometimes when he's talking to Jordan about you, he doesn't realize he's doing it. I don't have to tell you you're Steve's whole world.
Yeah, I know. He's told me.
She did know.
She also knew of Steve's affinity for women in the profession Celeste Lundy had chosen.
Steve Sanders had never been able to resist a model, especially tall, leggy, beautiful models with whom he had a history.
Determined to not come off as an insecure housewife, Clare had been unable to bring herself to ask Steve about his interaction with Celeste.
At first.
"I miss you," he said in one of their thrice-a-week phone calls. "I miss our bed, I miss our home, I miss our niece, I miss our gang, but I especially miss you."
"I miss you, too," said Clare.
"Have you made any progress with Bren?" asked Steve.
"She began the clinical trial to have the possibility of increasing her brain function," said Clare, "but we haven't seen any change in her yet. We also have to be careful with the trial, since Bren's cardiac tests show her heart function hasn't had any change either, which Dylan said isn't necessarily a good thing, but isn't bad, either. Kind of stagnant. How is Rush?"
"It's the same thing over here," said Steve. "Lots of tests. Lots of chemo. No change whatsoever, unless you count the complete change I've seen in my dad."
"Like calling him your dad," Clare noted.
"It's so weird, seeing him this vulnerable. I've never seen my dad this vulnerable. He's constantly so weak, yet he somehow radiates this strength I can't fathom."
"Can't fathom?" asked Clare. "That doesn't sound like you."
"It was a word in one of Janet's crossword puzzles," said Steve. "Probably one of your words."
"Mine, and a bunch of other people's," said Clare. "Speaking of Janet, I heard that Rush might have another visitor. A fashion magazine powerhouse kind of visitor."
"Celeste," said Steve. "You heard about Celeste."
"Were you planning on telling me?"
"I wasn't planning on telling you, because there's nothing to tell."
"If there's nothing to tell, you could've said, 'oh hey Babycakes, my old girlfriend's back in town and must've been around for our friends to know, but it's nothing of any mention.'"
"Lunch," said Steve. "We did one lunch. Just one. A quick catch-up."
"If you're doing one lunch with your ex, shouldn't I know about it?"
"If you had known about it, how would you have reacted?"
Clare thought it over and then said, "probably offered you an open relationship."
"Which I turned down before and would turn down again," said Steve. "I don't want an open relationship for us."
"But she's beautiful," said Clare.
"So's Bren, and you don't see me trying to date her."
"That's not even close to the same thing. A. Dylan would kill you, B. Bren's married, C. you don't have that kind of history with Bren and D. did I mention that Dylan would slaughter you in your sleep?"
"My history with Celeste. That's what you're worried about."
"I'm not worried. It's not like we have an ironclad arrangement."
"Arnold, you better not be referring to my relationship with the love of my life as a non-'ironclad arrangement.'"
"I just know it can't be easy for us to spend this much time apart from each other…"
"And I'm sure you feel just as lonely in bed as I do, but you're not banging anyone else, so why should I?"
"What makes you so sure I'm not banging anyone else?" Clare asked on the defensive, neglecting to think before she spoke.
"Because you're as in love with me as I am in love with you," Steve sailed through his answer, "and the thought of me banging anyone who isn't you turns your stomach just as much as it turns my stomach to think of you banging anyone who isn't me. You broke up with me once because you thought I cheated on you. I'm not gonna make your wrong thinking right and give you a reason to break up with me again."
"You have needs."
"I've got a shower. Like I'm sure you're putting our shower to good use."
Clare shrank back against her sofa.
"I'm being ridiculous," she said.
"Not that ridiculous," said Steve. "If I didn't know Carl is a happily married man, I wouldn't be overly thrilled if I knew he was hanging around you while we're apart."
"Yeah, but everything with your dad; you don't need me coming in insecure."
"It's kind of flattering."
"Only you would find this flattering."
"Many guys would find this flattering."
"Only guys?"
"Many people would find this flattering."
"I should go," said Clare, unwilling to hang up despite her words. "We're helping Brandon and Kel move into their new place."
"I can't wait to see it when I get back," said Steve.
"Do you know when you'll be back?"
"Soon. Hopefully soon."
"Give my love to your parents," said Clare. "And you can throw in some for your brothers, too."
"I'll give your love to my parents," said Steve, "but I'm not giving it to Austin."
"Ryan, then."
"Yeah. Ryan can have it."
Soon became an additional week, then an additional two, a month, two months.
Steve Sanders still hadn't returned.
Celeste Lundy remained in LA where, perhaps eventually, she could once more draw Steve's eye.
Though Clare didn't dare bring Celeste up again, and kept their conversation strictly about Rush's health.
Which Steve said had begun to decline.
Clare couldn't be there in an instant to comfort Steve if the worst were to occur.
But Celeste Lundy could.
Clare wondered if she could live with a jealousy that, if she weren't careful, might begin to consume her.
She wasn't the jealous type. She didn't want to be the jealous type. She wished to support other women, not feel competitively towards them in pursuit of a man.
If being in a long-distance relationship with Steve Sanders would turn her into the jealous type, Clare started to wonder if it might be better for her and for Steve were they to give up on their LDR.
Or perhaps place a pause on their relationship, for Steve to explore whether his feelings for Celeste Lundy truly were as dormant as he said.
"Sounds like you're giving up," said Kelly, pouring a latte for herself and a black coffee for Clare.
"Steve has too much going on with Rush to be having to constantly reassure me," said Clare. "This isn't me, Kel. I'm not like this. This is - is -"
"It's me," said Kelly, sipping from her mug without batting an eye. "The number of guys whose exes I've been jealous over…" Her short French braid slapped against her neck as she shook her head. "Or the number of exes whose girlfriends I've been jealous over…" She grew melancholy. "I hurt Bren and Dylan so much with my jealousy over them, when Brandon was standing right there the entire time."
"But Brandon had turned you down."
"Shot me down hard, more like, as if I were a target in a paintball game. I think about it sometimes, though. About how different it would've been if Brandon and I were the ones who started dating that summer Bren and Donna went to Paris."
"The summer sublet Val mentioned?"
"Damn, that brings me way back," Kelly laughed. "I never would've thought then that there would be a day when Val and I would declare a peace between us, and stick to it."
"Do you think David's gonna propose?" asked Clare as she sipped from her own drink and swiped a biscuit off of Kelly's tray. "What would you do if he did?"
"I think a ring's been burning its way through my brother's pocket before he even got Val to take him back," said Kelly, "and I mean it when I say that I couldn't be happier for them. David's had a rough year, Val's had a rougher one, and somehow, they've made it better for each other."
"What about you and Brandon?"
"What about us?" asked Kelly in her best attempt at a demure attitude.
"You've bought a place together."
"We have."
"You're going on trips together."
"We are."
"So…"
"So, I'm not opening that old wound," said Kelly. "Brandon's proposed to me twice. The first time; well, you know what happened the first time. The last time, it wasn't done with the best intention on Brandon's end and it probably would've saved us a lot of pain if I had rejected him then and there. I don't think he's gonna try for a third time."
"Who says he has to be the one to propose?" asked Clare.
"If you're suggesting that I make the proposal to him, I have thought about it," Kelly confessed.
"And?"
"And I think if I did, he might think I'm doing it without the best intention."
"What, because Bren and Dylan got married three months ago?"
"Yes," said Kelly, "but only because they put marriage back into all of our minds and now we're all waiting to see which of us get engaged next. If Brandon and I do decide to plan a wedding again, I don't want it to be like this competition between Val and I, or maybe you and I. I like living in a world where I'm not constantly competing with my girls."
"Did you just include Val as one of your girls?"
"Did I? Weird. Must've slipped out."
"Kelly Taylor," said Clare with feigned shock, "is there a chance that you might actually like Valerie Malone?"
"I'm keeping the peace," said Kelly. "For my brother's sake."
"Uh-huh," said Clare.
Brandon had come home then, greeting Kelly with a kiss that subtly informed Clare it was time for her to go.
Back to her cold, empty apartment.
Her cold, empty bed, to another night of telling herself that Celeste was just Steve's friend.
Just his friend, the way Clare had never been.
Ah well, she thought, if she got lonely enough, she could always invite Kai over for a drink.
And maybe Luca and Sofia, too.
There was always Ivan.
Ivan was certainly good for a great time.
xx
Life had become measured in a series of milestones.
Aria's milestones, to be precise.
Milestones Dylan ensured to capture, to prevent Brenda from unfounded guilt if she missed them.
It was easier to think of the passing of time as Aria's development, rather than as the series of tests Brenda had undergone and continued to undergo.
Rather than the dismal visits that told the McKays there had been no change in Brenda's mind or in her heart.
Rather than the realization that he could still lose his wife, and it wouldn't be the court's decision that would take her.
"No change is good," Brenda reminded him, the way her doctors had reminded her numerous times.
"No change is neither bad, nor good," said Dylan. "I just wish they'd give us a clearer picture of what we're dealin' with." He set his palm against the fabric of Brenda's sports bra. "It'd be nice to hear about some improvement in here."
"Right now, we're dealing with a soiled onesie," said Brenda, "and I have to focus on that, not what is or isn't happening in my body. I don't want, nor need, a time frame spelt out for me, especially if it's one I don't want to hear. Can you hand me a wipe?"
"Right away, m'lady." Dylan tore open a new package of wipes as he tapped his foot to set off the automatic opening of the rubbish bin. "But wouldn't knowing what's ahead put you more at ease?"
"Honestly," said Brenda, "I'm more worried about Mom's mind than I am mine. And maybe her heart, too."
"I take it my mom's yoga class didn't work?" asked Dylan.
"Strained Mom's muscles, but Dad said that's about it."
"And the meditation?"
"Turns out Cindy Walsh isn't a great meditator."
"Considering she's probably got her kids and grandkid on the brain, I don't blame her."
Aria's fist opened towards Dylan, who allowed her to take his hand.
She had begun doing that frequently after hitting the three-month mark, and Dylan couldn't get enough of his daughter choosing to grasp at his hand.
"Maybe we should try your therapist," said Brenda, letting Dylan finish up Aria's change.
"Cin said she wasn't interested in therapy," said Dylan.
"Yoga doesn't help, she can't meditate, she won't agree to therapy, and you're completely against hypnotherapy," said Brenda. "My mom clearly has repressed memories of Abby. How are we supposed to know what they are if she keeps refusing the methods to release them?"
"You gotta trust that Val and Silver are close to discovery, Bren." Dylan tugged Aria's hand away from Aria's mouth.
"That's not what Val told me," said Brenda. "She's frustrated that they haven't gotten anywhere, either. I still say we should tell her our theory."
"I'm not saying it isn't a possibility, but telling Val we think she might be a Gotti but not a Malone isn't exactly the way to go, especially without proof."
"Why not? She hates her parents."
"How would you take it if you found out you weren't Big Jim's daughter?" Dylan raised up his own. "On second thought, don't answer that." He lay Aria on her play mat for her morning tummy time. "Bren, Bren! Look! She's raising her head!"
Brenda knelt near the mat.
"Has she been doing that a lot lately?" asked Brenda.
"First time," said Dylan.
"Thank you, baby, for letting Mommy see one of your milestones," said Brenda.
"You've seen the others," said Dylan.
"On camera, which I greatly appreciate, but it isn't the same," said Brenda, somewhat downcast. "What if I miss the first time she rolls over, or crawls, or walks because I'm in the studio?"
"We have months yet 'til that happens," said Dylan. "Bren, I know you're loving being back. You don't have to feel guilty about it. You deserve to get some time just to yourself, and Aria understands."
He turned on the music of the tummy time mat, music he had memorized enough to play it for Aria on the guitar.
"Marrying you might be one of the smartest things I've ever done," said Brenda as she tucked her head into Dylan.
"Marrying you is the smartest thing I've ever done," said Dylan.
He had one caveat to Brenda's life as a career woman: as long as Immo Rawlins remained alive, Brenda was never to take the bus.
Never.
They had resumed Brenda's driving lessons, though until she did secure her license, Dylan would continue to embrace the role of Brenda's chauffeur.
It gave him an excuse to remain in the city with Aria, around the corner from the studio so that he could maintain a close watch on the safety of his wife in the shadow of their enemies without hovering over her.
Occasionally, he and Aria had joined Brenda in the studio, and oftentimes, Brenda said her colleagues had inquired in the Finnish translation after that "adorable child."
Adorable, Dylan thought, was a severe understatement.
Aria had been a great comfort to Dylan when he had come close to suing the entirety of the Australian court system after Immo Rawlins had somehow convinced the Judge that Rawlins' company held no liability for the overturned train.
Convinced? Dylan had snarled. Bought off, more like.
He hadn't been able to prove it, just as he hadn't yet proven that Immo was behind the burnt bus.
But he would. Somehow. Eventually.
Mostly to calm Dylan down, Brenda had filed for an appeal along with the other train victims.
"That asshole could've taken you from me," Dylan had said. "Could've taken Aria before she even had a chance to live! There's negligence plastered all over this case and yet he somehow gets off Scot-free? I call bullshit."
"What do you think we should do?" Brenda had asked. "Go to Australia? Maybe if I'd been there to testify, instead of over the phone, it would've made a difference."
"You can't go to Aus," said Dylan.
"You can."
"Like that's happening," Dylan had snorted.
Proving that she was indeed Brenda Walsh-McKay's daughter, Aria had commanded the attention of her parents, and that had thwarted Brenda's faux assurance to Dylan that she could handle him being in Australia.
Dylan was adamant that if he did fly to Australia, his family would be right beside him.
"It's almost like you're trying to get rid of me," he told Brenda when he and Aria had stolen her away during her lunch hour.
He cherished those lunch hours, which he knew would decrease with every new role Brenda accepted.
"Never," Brenda answered him with a kiss. "I just thought it would help you to blow off steam, if you went out there and confronted Mr. Rawlins yourself. Or should I say, confronted Val's father."
"You're still on that kick about Val being Immo's daughter, huh?"
"You don't find it in the least bit suspicious that Mr. Rawlins just happened to be able to offer my dad protection from my mom's blackmailer, who just happens to know exactly what happened with my mom and Abby?"
"Of course I find it suspicious. I find everything about Rawlins suspicious. But it doesn't mean Victor isn't Val's dad."
"Val deserves a better dad."
"She does. Immo Rawlins ain't him."
If all they argued about was whether he should fly solo to Australia or whether Valerie's parentage was accurate, then Dylan felt better about the kinds of fights he and Brenda would have in the future.
If they had them.
Most of what they had previously fought about had discarded all meaning in the face of all the times he had sat in hospitals, awaiting news of Brenda.
He had continued to attend AA and NA, with Brenda by his side on the nights the grandparents Walsh offered to watch their darling Aria.
Brenda had assured Dylan that whatever road his sobriety took, whether he remained steady on that road or stumbled along the way, they were in it together.
Dylan couldn't guarantee Brenda a life free of his vices, but he could guarantee that he would try damn hard to avoid them.
He had.
He hadn't had a drop of alcohol since before he had met with Jonesy to search for Brenda, and the craving for a hit had become less bothersome over the months he had done without.
Jonesy.
He hadn't considered Jonesy, mostly because he preferred life without Jonesy's theatrics.
"Immo might have some good traits," said Brenda. "Victor Malone was a monster."
"And Immo is a mega-rich bastard with deep ties to the man who murdered my father," said Dylan. "We should just pretend Nat is Val's father. I'm sure she'd prefer that, and I know Nat wouldn't mind."
"Nat can be Val's father like he is yours and Brandon's, but I still think Val would want to know if there's a possibility her mother has been lying to her all this time."
"If you feel so strongly about it, then tell her."
"I can't," said Brenda, bearing a deep-set frown. "I might be wrong, and Val would get excited for nothing."
"I know this, er, guy," said Dylan. "He, uh; he actually helped me to uh, track you down."
"So I owe this guy for bringing our family back together?" asked Brenda. "Did I used to know him?"
"You didn't, but Val knows him."
"Your ex-FBI friend from the Mexican cowboy story," said Brenda, as if the identity of Jonesy had been previously inlaid in her mind.
"How'd you do that?" asked Dylan, popping out the canopy on Aria's stroller to prevent the harsh light of early autumn from encroaching upon his daughter's sensitive vision.
The warmth of the summer had waned to a balmy, pleasant temperature that reminded Dylan of nights in Los Angeles.
Until the cold set in, which would toss out temperatures more reminiscent of Brenda's Minnesota.
"You said Val knows him," said Brenda. "And Val knows the Mexican cowboy."
"I thought I was the Mexican cowboy in that story," said Dylan.
"You aren't Mexican," said Brenda.
"Neither is Jonesy."
"Jonesy. That's his name. Jonesy."
"If Val and Silver don't find something soon, I'll get Jonesy on it."
Brenda rolled the stroller back and forth with one hand as she lifted her fork with the other.
"And this Jonesy; he can find anything?" she asked.
"Normally, I'd tell you he's full of it," said Dylan, "but he found you. He found Erica. He found my everything, so maybe he's got some talent."
"Then the next time Val tells us the search is hopeless, we send in Jonesy," said Brenda. "Any word from Steve?"
"They're starting Rush on radiation therapy."
"Can you at least go out to LA, then? I'll be really good while you're gone. I promise I will."
"Bren, I told you. I go where you go, and besides, Steve would chew me out if I flew out there without you."
Dylan and Aria were welcomed into the back room of the studio, where Dylan loved watching his wife at work.
She had this way of transforming into the character she played, even if that character were an ogre princess with an attitude problem.
"Are we still picking them up at the airport?" asked Brenda on the way home.
"Brandon and Kelly said they would," said Dylan. "It's more on their way than ours."
"I'm nervous," said Brenda. "What if I say something wrong?"
"You won't."
They had made sure that no memories would be brought up, unless Brenda was first asked.
"I don't know the last time I saw him," said Brenda.
"I can tell you that," said Dylan. "Easy. It was with me."
He answered Brenda's questions up until the moment that they parked by the curb of Brandon's and Kelly's house.
A three-story house with accessibility Brandon had seen to himself.
Brenda made to get Aria, but Dylan was faster.
"Keep your hands free," he told Brenda. "You'll need them."
Brenda was fidgety. He could tell by the way she repeatedly smoothed down Aria's light sweater.
Shifting Aria to sit better in one arm, Dylan slipped the hand on his other arm into the hand of his wife.
"We'll greet them together," he told her.
"Like we do all things," said Brenda, seemingly more calm.
The door bursting open with a "There's my favorite cousin!", Brandon's joking retort of "I thought I was your favorite cousin," and Kelly immediately rushing to steal Aria away relaxed Brenda to the point that the tight grip she had had on Dylan loosened.
The man's joviality lightened the atmosphere considerably, countering the more cynical nature of Dawn Vreeland.
Dawn introduced Brenda to other members of the London crew, who all had a few choice words to say for Dylan.
"I know," said Dylan. "I was an idiot."
"A complete arse, more like," said Zahur's brother, Samir.
"An arse who still somehow got our Brenda to wed him," said Dawn.
"Just as our Mina predicted they would," said Tasha.
"Did she predict it?" asked Brenda.
"Mins predicted it from the moment this fool showed up at Howie's," said Dawn.
"Can you tell me more about them?" Brenda's eyes alit with the curiosity Dylan loved. "Dylan says Shane and I dated at RADA? And that Mina and I met at an audition? And - and you, and Zahur," she told Samir, "didn't we - didn't we meet you in an airport?"
"Did you tell her that?" Samir asked Dylan.
"Not the last part," said Dylan, whose hopes skyrocketed, the way they always did when a memory came to Brenda.
"I'll tell you everything you want to know," said Dawn.
"Can you tell her later?" asked the voice behind them. "I was hoping I could get a moment alone with my cousin?"
Brenda pivoted towards the man looking up at her.
"Bobby," she said, kneeling to his level for the embrace intrinsic to the Walsh family.
"Bren," he said with the blinding smile of the star quarterback he may have been in a parallel universe.
"I have a baby," she told him. "Did you see my baby?"
"I did see your baby," he said, love overflowing from Bobby Walsh the way it did from everyone who made Aria McKay's acquaintance. "Heard she's McKay's baby, too." He glanced at Dylan. "You being good to my favorite cousin, McKay?"
Brenda answered for Dylan when she told Bobby, "McKay's my husband. And my last name."
"That's right," said Bobby, who must have been previously coached by Brandon on how to answer Brenda. "Our Bren is now a McKay. Brandon said you're doing voicework?"
"Yes, I'm going to be in a movie," said Brenda. "But only my voice. Will you see it?"
"Will your husband fly me and my own wife out for the premiere?" asked Bobby, again glancing at Dylan.
"Hell, I'll fly the entire family out," said Dylan.
"Include us in that," said Tasha.
"After that roasting?" asked Dylan good-naturedly.
"With the way you treated Brenda, a roasting is the least you deserve," said Tasha.
"We've put that in our past," said Brenda, "and I'd appreciate it if all of you did, too." She looked around at their friends.
"We will," said Dawn.
"With the occasional roast," said Samir.
Dylan told Brenda he was fine with that.
Brenda's Aunt Paula was next, then her other cousin Lottie, then Uncle Simon, and her grandmother Georgette.
Dylan and Brandon had both picked and chosen Brenda's visitors, Brandon picking from the family and Dylan picking from the crew.
Brandon had selected the members of their family who had maintained close connections with Brenda over the years, whilst Dylan chose those closest to his and Brenda's deceased mates.
They seemed to have done well, for Brenda ended the night much more relaxed than she had been going in.
"Thank you for this," she told Brandon and Kelly. "I didn't know if I was ready for them to all come over to ours. But I think I am," she told Dylan. "I think it's okay if they come over. Aunt Paula said she has loads of stories to tell me about my aunt Sheila, and I want to hear all of them. If that's okay?" she asked Dylan.
"Babes, you know you don't have to ask," he said, securing Aria back in her carseat.
"You should talk with Tasha," Brenda added to Kelly. "She's an interior designer, and you've been looking for ways to make this place your own."
"I'll do that, Bren," said Kelly, wrapping herself around Brandon. "Our offer to watch Aria for you still stands."
"We might take you up on it," said Brenda, "at some point. I'll let you know."
They separated, Dylan speaking with Brandon as Brenda spoke with Kelly.
Dylan stayed close to the car, which seemed to work well for Brandon when he began playing with his wide-awake niece.
"She loves her uncle Brandon," said Dylan.
"Good, 'cause I think I love her more than I love Bren," said Brandon. He picked up Aria's fallen toy to place back in her grasp. "Don't tell Bren."
"I'm nearly convinced Bren loves Aria more than Bren loves me, so it happens," said Dylan.
"Aria with her stuffed Porsche," said Brandon, shaking his head.
"Don't look at me," said Dylan. "Bren's the one who bought it for her."
He watched the mixed emotions that flitted across Brandon's face.
"Can I ask you something you might find awkward?" asked Dylan.
"I think awkward flew out the window a long time ago," said Brandon.
"You and Kel. Are you thinking about it?"
"About what?"
"Any of it." Dylan gestured at Brenda, at Aria, and pointed to his own ring.
"Maybe thinking about it," said Brandon. "But Kel and I have been down that road before, and I'm not so sure she's ready to go down it again. If ever."
"Bren thinks Silver might end up proposing."
"Yeah, Kel and I think so, too. You heard from them lately?"
"They got the concert venue. Planning to head up to Mississauga over the weekend. I told Bren if we don't know something soon, I'll send in Jonesy."
"Let's hope they know something soon," said Brandon.
Sliding his arm around Brenda who had her head on his shoulder, Dylan checked on Aria in the overhead mirror.
"Both of my girls are close to conking out," he said. "Maybe we should do this another night."
"Uh-uh," Brenda murmured. "You promised Aria the stars."
He had, in fact, promised both his wife and daughter a darkened sky full of stars, and he successfully delivered, on that road overlooking the valleys that led to their trusty London in his stable.
"Told you I'd give you everything," said Dylan, "including the stars. You want one? I don't have my lasso handy, but pick it out and I'll put your name on it."
"You don't have to buy me a star," said Brenda. "Just looking at Aria, looking at the stars; that's more than enough."
Dylan tilted his head to see the view Brenda spoke of and realized that it was enough.
It truly was.
xx
Life had become measured in a series of visits.
Short, consistent visits, to one of the newest residents of Maine's state prison.
Prison, she had found, had been more comfortable when she was an inmate herself, perhaps because Valerie had an inkling of the kind of trials Curtis was facing amongst his fellow inmates.
The bruised face hadn't surprised her. Nor had the bandaged hand.
The surprise came in the form of Curtis' upbeat attitude about it all, which Valerie was certain was slapped on purely for her benefit.
On most visits, she was accompanied by David, who had been approved for visits under the pretense that he was Curtis' stepbrother.
It had taken six weeks for the initial approval; six long, agitating weeks that saw Valerie taking on a pile of work.
As she worked, she had told David stories of Curtis in his youth, which had caused David to develop a fondness for Curtis prior to their visits.
Though the defenses Curtis had built up around men not surnamed Walsh refused to admit as much, Valerie picked up on Curtis' own developing brotherly affection for David.
The Malone siblings were permitted brief contact at the start of every visit, wherein Curtis had made it his duty to check in on Valerie.
"You look shittier than you did last time you were here," said Curtis.
"Gee, thanks," said Val.
"I mean it, Val, you're looking really pale. Have you been getting enough sun?"
"I could probably use more," she said. "David and I have been pushing to get this venue reopened. I can't wait 'til you're out on parole and can see it."
"Val, you know Abby will ensure I'm never out on parole."
"Abby doesn't have McKay finances backing her." Valerie readjusted her sweater, ensuring it remained zipped and free of cleavage to abide by the visitor dress code despite the temptation of flaunting her cleavage to distract the wardens for Curtis to stage a breakout.
Valerie would have done it, too, in her sweater shaded in the colors of the autumnally-decorated trees outside, if not for the knowledge that Curtis had repeatedly refused to break out.
"You won't be in here forever, Curtis," she said. "Rick will see to it, and Dylan will keep funding Rick until he does."
"I have my doubts about that," said Curtis, "but I shouldn't be seeing the sun more than my sister does."
"Got your rec privilege back, then?" asked Val.
"Boulder came forward and admitted he started the fight," said Curtis.
"I don't know if I like the idea of my baby brother being around someone called 'Boulder,'" said Val.
"That's nothing," said Curtis. "You should hear what they call me."
If his nickname had anything to do with any part of his body, Valerie said she didn't want to hear it.
"Damn," David bent to discreetly kiss Valerie as he briefly shook Curtis' hand, "you can't bring anything in here. They just confiscated my harmonica."
"Why were you trying to bring in your harmonica?" asked Val.
"I wasn't," said David. "I forgot I had it in my pocket. Curtis, my man, did you get your rec back yet?"
"We were just talking about that," said Val, slipping her hands into David's deep pocket.
David's hand joined Val's.
"That, and my pale sister," said Curtis. "Have you noticed?" he asked David.
"Oh, I've noticed," said David, aiming a frown at Valerie.
"Don't get him started," said Val. "I just need to get more sun."
"I get one hour of sun a day and I'm not half that pale," said Curtis.
"Maybe you're built with more Vitamin D," said Val. "Can you please tell my brother I'm fine?" she asked David.
"I would, if I believed it myself," said David. "I think she's pushing herself too hard," he told Curtis.
"My sister? Push herself too hard? Nah," said Curtis.
"Tell Curtis about our plans for the venue," Valerie told David to get their attention off of her.
It worked, with David listing every band and artist he and Valerie had lined up for the grand opening.
Before the grand opening, however, there was a roadtrip to be taken.
One Valerie had equally longed for, and dreaded.
They hadn't come to Canada for sightseeing, though Valerie didn't see the harm in wandering through some of Ontario's scenic points.
"Have you been to Canada before?" asked David, pulling Valerie's back into his stomach.
"Quebec," said Val. "School trip. You probably took school trips to like, Disneyland, or Universal."
"Never took a field trip to Disneyland," said David. "They did bring us out to the poppy fields, once. Saw a couple missions. We went down to San Diego, the symphony there."
"Was that when little David Silver decided he wanted to work in music?" asked Valerie.
"That was when little David Silver decided he wanted to film symphonies," said David. "The music part came later."
Valerie could have stayed there all day, at that spot overlooking Lake Ontario where she and David discussed more of their childhoods, but there were matters to attend to.
A bank to visit, in Mississauga.
A safe deposit box to scour.
How Dylan had pulled it off, getting Valerie access to the vault that contained her mother's safe deposit box, Valerie thought she may never know.
Despite her own former short-lived wealth, the ways of the rich often escaped her.
"Do inform us if you are in need of anything further," Valerie and David were told. "Your brother was quite insistent, Miss McKay. And, between you and me, most generous to our charity drive."
So that was how she had gotten in, Valerie thought.
On the belief that her own name was McKay.
"I thought that your family was always one paycheck away from broke," said David as he searched through Abby's possessions.
"We were," said Val. "Looks like Abby neglected to tell Victor that she had riches stashed away."
"Must be the Gotti riches," said David. "What exactly are we looking for?"
"Anything that will tell us about the summer in Bowmanville," said Val. "It'll give us a start for the appointment Brandon arranged."
"I should be annoyed that it required McKay's wallet, Walsh's connections, and Rush Sanders' golf buddies' college roommate to finally get us somewhere," said David.
"But you're not," said Val.
"I'm not," David confirmed. "The main thing is to crack Abby's secret wide open. How that happens, I don't care."
Valerie paused in her search to smack her lips upon David's.
"You know what would really piss off Abby?" asked Val.
"Traces of sperm on the outside of her box?" asked David.
"Even I couldn't've come up with that fantasy," said Val.
"And that's why you've been giving me those sex eyes of yours for the last half-hour," said David.
When they had finished christening the vault and had fixed their clothing, David pulled out two laminated papers.
"Found birth certificates," he said.
"Mine?" asked Val.
"Curtis' and Suzie's. Yours isn't in here."
"Strange," said Val, though for all she knew, Abby had burnt it.
"You must have a copy of yours, though; don't you?" asked David.
Valerie didn't.
In fact, she ruminated, she had never seen her birth certificate.
Up until that point, she hadn't thought much of it, and told herself she would continue to not think much of it.
Like any unhappy child enshrouded in a toxic environment, Valerie had fantasized about her own adoption more times than she had bothered to count, but it was just that.
A fantasy that held no basis in reality.
"The papers aren't in here," David announced furiously. He slammed the box until it creaked against its siblings in the vault. "Abby's covered her tracks, and she's done it well. There is absolutely nothing damning in this place."
Nothing damning, but certainly baffling.
Why, Valerie wondered, was hers the only birth certificate not stowed away?
Had her mother loathed her that much, long before Abby had competed with her daughter for the affection of Abby's husband?
"We have to get over to our next appointment, anyway." Valerie pulled out her siblings' certificates before the box sealed shut. "Just in case," she told David, folding the certificates to stick into her jacket pocket.
Downtown Bowmanville appeared somewhat more suburban than Valerie had expected.
As she drove through the town seeking out the archives where they would meet their next appointment, she found herself searching every road sign for the possible location of the tire motorsport park where Jim Walsh had first met Cindy Beavis.
"So this is the place where Jim met Cindy," said David, penetrating Valerie's cogitation.
"Weird to think if it weren't for this place, Brandon and Brenda wouldn't exist," said Val.
"Or, if they did still exist, they wouldn't know you," said David.
"They would've probably still known me," said Val. "Our families just wouldn't've been as close. And if they didn't exist -"
"I wouldn't know you," said David before Valerie could.
"I wouldn't know any of you," said Val. "The only reason I do is because of Brandon. Which is why I wish you'd reconsider your decision to not go to LA. You knew Steve before you knew me."
"Again, I'll go if you go," said David, as he had said several other times.
"Maybe we can go," said Val, giving David a different answer than she usually did. "For a weekend. I can go and see for myself so I can tell Clare that Steve isn't hung up on his old girlfriend."
"You'd think Clare would already know that," said David, "if she trusts Steve as much as she says she does."
"This from the guy who would've chomped Tom's head off if given the opportunity," said Val.
"Steve and Celeste aren't old childhood friends," said David. "It was completely different."
The contact arranged through one of Brandon's many journalism friends was happy to lead David and Valerie into the archives of The Canadian Statesman, though they were both warned that the answers they sought might not be found.
Valerie had expected as much, sure that the Gottis had a hand in protecting Abby from whatever she had been hiding.
The dusty papers lacked a mention of either Abby Gotti or Cindy Beavis, but an August edition of 1970 did catch David's eye.
"Says the body of an FBI agent was unearthed near the festival," David read. "FBI agent? Didn't Clare's friend Sofia tell Bren Abby's diary said something about an FBI agent?"
"An FBI agent," said Val. "That's it! David, I know how we can get an answer."
He picked up on the first ring.
"Now that's a number of a gorgeous Dominatrix I thought I'd never hear the cherubic voice of again," he said.
"I need your help," said Val. "You owe me."
"If it's about the favor McKay called in, my ass is already headed toward Maine. Sitting in the Detroit airport as we speak."
"Turn your ass around and head over to Washington," said Val. "Get me everything you can on a dead FBI agent in Ontario."
"I dig up the bodies, Malone. I don't help bury them."
"This one was buried in 1970," said Val. "And I think my mother was behind the murder."
"Consider me intrigued," said Jonesy. "I'm all ears, Doll."
Valerie hung up with Jonesy, accepting the warm apple cider David had bought.
"Abby killed that agent," she told David. "Think about it. Cindy told us she saw Abby with a gun, and Cindy has repressed memories because of it. I don't know why Abby killed him, but I do know the blackmailer had to have something massive on her and Cindy to be able to control Jim for this long. And the agent must've had something on my mother for her to go that far."
"Jonesy's on the case?" asked David.
"Jonesy's on the case," said Val.
"Then we might as well check into our room and wait for Jonesy's next call," said David.
Valerie had agreed, but she hadn't agreed to stop at the drug mart first.
She hadn't agreed to purchasing the object David pulled out of his bag when they were back in the car.
"I don't need that," she said, pushing away the box.
"You're pale enough that you're worrying Curtis," said David. "Curtis, who gets much less sun than you do and somehow looks like he's had more. I don't think it's just stress, Val." David dropped the box on the dashboard. "It's just a test. You've taken worse ones."
True though that was, it was a test Valerie couldn't bring herself to take, because she found herself conflicted over what result she wanted the test to have.
Waiting for the results of a fourth HIV test would have been far less complicated for her.
-x
Sources: Google, Google Images, and the websites for Aaron Delgado & Associates' prison term glossary, BabyCenter, Banking 101, Main State Prison, National Cancer Institute, National Library of Medicine, PsychCentral.
Thanks a million! x