Remington met Laura's eyes for a moment as she said, "You see? I told you - you ARE Remington Steele."
He nodded once, then looked at Mary. "If you've known where I was all this time," he asked, "Why-?"
"Why didn't I contact you? Tell you who I was and about your mother?" Mary finished. She shook her head. "I wanted to. But I respected Daniel's fear- that you would run as far and fast as you could if you found out the truth. When James died, you were already in Los Angeles- and I moved back here. I wasn't happy in Dublin anymore. I needed a far simpler life than the one I'd been living. Daniel took to visiting me on occasion, telling me stories about you, about what you'd been doing, how you were the last time he had seen your or spoken to you. I didn't know about the watch until he came for a visit and I mentioned that Patrick was back in Dublin, planning to re do an old movie house for some reason or another. He told me later that he'd gone to visit Patrick, and discovered that his old friend was afraid of something that he'd gotten into and couldn't get out of. He suggested that Patrick might ask you for help- and then returned to London. He was as surprised as anyone when he found out that Patrick sent you the watch as a means of getting you to Ireland without arousing the suspicion of his partners in crime. And I told him that he should NEVER have allowed you to think that the Earl of Claridge was your father. I took him to task over that lie more than any other."
"You still haven't explained why you didn't try to contact me after- my grandfather died."
"You had Laura, lad," Mary explained. "But Daniel didn't have anyone. Anyone except for me, that is. And if I had gone to you, told you who I was, he would have been alone again. And I don't think Maeve would have approved of that. Not at all." A clock on the mantle struck the hour, and Mary looked up. "I hadn't realized how late it was getting on to be. You'll be staying the night, I'm sure."
"We wouldn't want to put you out," Laura said. "We can go back to Dublin-"
"Nonsense. I've a spare room upstairs- that is, if you're not against spending a night in the same room where Daniel-"
Remington shook his head. "I'm sure it will be fine,-" he hesitated. "I've no idea what to call you."
"Grandmother would be music to my ears," Mary said in a soft voice that sounded on the brink of tears. "But it's your decision."
Remington reached across to cover her blue veined hand with one of his. "Laura and I would be honored to spent the night here, Grandmother."
Mary swallowed heavily, wiping the tear away that escaped her blue eyes. "Look at me. All watery," she laughed softly. "I'd best see to it that the room's presentable. And while I'm doing that, why don't you and Laura go over to the churchyard? So you can say a proper farewell to your mother and father."
"That's sounds like a good idea. We won't be long," Remington assured the woman- his grandmother- leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek.
"Now off with you. The both of you. I have work to be done, and you're keeping me from doing it."
***
Remington looked at the flower-covered grave, grateful again for
Laura's hand in his. "Oh, Daniel. If only you'd found the
courage to tell me the truth. So many wasted years," he
sighed.
"Not really," Laura said quietly. "you had twenty years with him."
"As a mentor, and friend. Not as a father." He looked at the curiously new stone on the grave beside Daniel's. Neither of them had been looking for this earlier today. But now the name chiseled into the granite leapt out at Remington. Maeve Donahue Chalmers. Born September 6, 1931. Date of death, May 16, 1953. The Angels rejoice in her shining presence. He reached out to touch the stone.
Laura spoke quietly. "At least we know when your birthday really is, Mr. Steele," she said.
"Mmm," he nodded in agreement. "And I'm older than I always assumed I was, as well."
"Only by a year or two," Laura pointed out. "Not enough to matter, really." She slipped an arm around his waist beneath his coat. "Besides, I've never told you how much I like older men, have I?"
"Really?"
"Really." He touched his lips to her temple, felt her shiver in the cool early evening breeze.
"Let's take the car to my grandmother's house," he told her. "It's too cold for you to be standing about-"
"I'm fine," Laura assured him. "If you need to-" she indicated the graves before them.
He touched Daniel's headstone. "I don't feel Daniel here, Laura," Remington said at last.
"Maybe you're just not ready to say goodbye to him yet," Laura suggested.
"I'm not. I'm not entirely sure I'll ever be ready." He pulled her closer. "Let's go."
***
Back at the house, Mary had set a veritable feast out on her dining
room table. She saw the suitcases in Remington's hands and nodded
toward the stairs just outside the door. "Up those stairs,"
she told him. "Second door on the left."
Laura took the plates that Mary was carrying as Remington went back to the stairs. "Here. Let me help. Setting the table is something I'm good at."
Mary smiled conspiratorially at her. "Daniel mentioned something about your leaving most of the cooking to Remington."
"But he's so good at it. I mean, I can do the basics, boil water, things like that. But, he tends to intimidate me when it comes to really cooking. You know what I mean?"
Mary placed an arm around Laura's shoulders and gave her a hug. "It's no great shame not to be able to cook, lass. I couldn't when I married James. Even growing up here, helping my mum around the kitchen, I never learned. The poor man endured more burned meals in those early days than a man ought. But he never complained. And I got better."
Laura surveyed the table that was nearly overflowing with dishes. "You didn't-?"
"Oh, no. Leftovers, I'm afraid."
"The wake?" Laura guessed.
"Aye. Daniel made a lot of friends in Glenn Cray during the last month. Never knew a man who could make friends so easily. Seemed to fit in anywhere, he did."
Laura smiled, glancing toward the stairs. "Remington's the same way."
"I thought he might be." Mary glanced at the door with a frown. "I wonder what's taking him so long?" she wondered, unknowingly echoing Laura's thoughts.
"I'll go and find out," Laura told her.
***
Remington placed the suitcases beside the bed, looking around
the small room. The lamp on the table beside the bed cast a soft
glow on the room, dispelling any ghosts that might be lurking
about. He'd been in more than one room like this in his life,
he reminded himself. Cold, damp. Unfriendly and not really his
at all.
But this room felt different. It almost seemed to welcome him. He couldn't believe that Daniel would have left so much unfinished between them. There had to be something more. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed, felt the weight of the pocketwatch on his thigh.
Taking it out, he opened the case and listened to the music, finding himself smiling as there was a soft tap on the door before Laura appeared in the opening. "Remington?" she asked, clearly concerned. "Mary and I were getting worried."
"Just looking around," he told her.
Laura stood before him, her hands on his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not yet. I'm still trying to take everything in, process all she told me. Still trying to understand-"
Laura brushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead. "Dinner's ready." She grinned at him. "Did you see that pile of food she has waiting down there?"
"I noticed it," he told her. "Enough to feed an army."
"Or one hungry little boy," Laura suggested.
Remington stood up and heard something under his shoe. Bending, he picked up a piece of paper, crumpled into a tight little ball that had been just under the bed behind the chenille spread. "What's this," he wondered, spreading the page out and holding it toward the light.
"My dear Harry," the words were in Daniel's hand. "I don't know how to go about trying to make everything right- to give back to you the life you should have had- would have had if it had not been for my stupidity and fear." The next words were scratched out, and Remington could picture Daniel sitting at the small desk beside the window, becoming frustrated at his inability to express his feelings on paper.
"What is it, Remington?" Laura asked, trying to see the words.
"Daniel was trying to write a letter before he died. To me." He looked around the room, then turned toward the door.
Laura frowned, uncertain as she followed him to the dining room.
"Grandmother," he began as soon as he entered the room, "Did Daniel leave anything for me? Besides the watch, I mean."
Mary looked at him. "How did you know that, lad? I was going to give it to you before you left." She went to a shelf on the wall and pulled out a book. Opening the pages, she pulled out an envelope. "It's his will and a letter- and your birth certificate. It will allow you to change your name legally to whatever you want to be. Harry Chalmers, or Remington Steele-"
"I'm rather partial to that one, myself," Laura reminded him as he took the envelope from Mary's hands. "Why don't we eat before you open that?" she suggested.
"It might be best if we try to do both, lass," Mary told Laura. "Some of Daniel's friends called while you two were out and asked to come over and meet you after dinner. If you don't mind, that is."
Remington picked up a butter knife and slit the top of the envelope as they sat down at the table. "You two go ahead," he murmured, pulling out the contents. "If you don't mind, I'll just- go into the other room to read this."
When Laura would have objected, she found Mary's hand on her arm, and heard the woman saying, "We understand, Remington. You need to be alone, I think. We'll be here if you need us."
"Thank you."
Laura watched him go with worried eyes. "He's so quiet. I mean, he's always been one to hold things in to a degree-"
"I don't doubt it. Some of the stories that Daniel related to me regarding the lad's youth-" Mary shivered as she passed a bowl toward Laura. "Gave me nightmares, I tell you."
"I think Remington still has nightmares about those days," Laura confided. "Sometimes I'll wake up at night and he'll be muttering something, tossing and turning- but he never mentions it." Laura picked up her fork. "Mrs. Donahue, I'm sure you're aware that Remington and I aren't- well, we're not-"
"Married?" Mary finished, and Laura was surprised
to see the same spark of humor in that lined face that she'd seen
so often in Remington's. "It's not my place to judge whatever
arrangement you and my grandson have, Laura. Daniel said that
you were happy, that Remington seemed settled for the first time
in his entire life. And he owes that to you, I should think.
A piece of paper doesn't make a marriage, lass. It's the love
you feel inside for a person. The knowledge that you'll be there,
comes what may, in good and bad. And that he'll be there for
you."
Laura picked at her food, her eyes downcast. "There was a
time- and not so long ago- when I thought he might not be,"
she admitted.
"I know. But are you blind, Laura? How he feels is there every time he looks at you. Daniel once said that he'd never seen his Harry so willing to jump through all the various hoops you made him jump through. Why else would he have stayed so long if he didn't love you?"
Laura was forced to admit the truth in those words. But still, a change of subject was in order. "Mrs. Donahue-"
"Mary, please."
"I couldn't help but notice that Maeve's headstone looked almost brand new."
"Because it is. She wasn't buried there until a year ago."
"She wasn't?"
"She was originally buried at the convent- along with a good many other poor girls who sought help from the nuns. A year ago, Daniel asked if I would mind him having her remains moved here to the churchyard. When I agreed, he bought a new stone and had it inscribed."
"Oh." Laura glanced once more at the door into the hall, wondering what was happening in the front room of the house as she heard the soft tinkling sounds of "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling."
***
Remington sat there before the peat fire, papers on the table
before him, the watch in his hand. Daniel's letter had filled
in all the blanks. He knew everything- everything except for
his name. And, curiously enough, that didn't seem to matter as
much as it had once. He even knew, for the first time, where
Daniel had been born, why he'd chosen the life he'd lead- Remington's
blue eyes darkened at the memory of a temporary "father"
who had treated him almost as badly as Daniel's father had treated
Daniel as a lad. He was able to tell how much Daniel had loved
Maeve, and how devastated he had been at the loss of his wife
and son. And he'd felt the joy at finding that son years later,
and his despair in making a decision that would keep them together,
but never allow them to be father and son.
Remington read again the last part of the letter. "You have a bright future ahead of you, Harry, my boy. Happiness, love. I'd always thought that the luckiest day of either of our lives was the day I found you in Brixton. But I realize now that that designation goes to the day you met Laura and became Remington Steele. Never forget that I loved you as much as any father has a right to love his son. I'm proud of you. Take care of yourself. And Laura. Your father, Daniel."
Remington sighed deeply, glancing again at the other documents. A faded birth certificate, with, as Mary claimed, only "baby boy Chalmers" in the place where a name should have been. The other was a copy of Daniel's will, leaving all of his worldly possessions to his son, Remington Steele. The listing of those possessions was a surprise to Remington, who had never suspected that his old friend would be so well off-
His thoughts were interrupted by Laura sitting down beside him. He turned and pulled her into his arms. "He's not dead, you know. Not as long as we remember him."
"And we'll never forget him," Laura promised. "After all, if it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have met you, and molded you into the great detective Remington Steele."
Remington smiled down at her. "So I'm Eliza Dolittle to your Henry Higgins, eh?" he teased, then his blue eyes became serious. "But that's who I am, isn't it? Remington Steele. Even Daniel admitted it."
Laura picked up the birth certificate. "Well, Mary's right. With this, we can make that official. It shouldn't be too much trouble to apply for a legal name change, explain that you've been using the name for business purposes, and now you want to make it personal as well." She looked uncertain. "If that's what you want, that is. I mean, you could chose another name. Harry Chalmers, or Michael O'Leary-"
"Or Sam Spade?" Remington questioned, and smiled at her reaction. "Remington Steele will be just fine," he assured her. "And when we leave here, we have to make a stop in London-"
"London?" Laura questioned. "Why?"
"To see Daniel's solicitor about his will." He put the papers into his pocket, along with the watch, and stood, holding a hand out to Laura. "I'm suddenly famished. Is there anything left of that mountain of food in there or did you and Grandmother finish it all?"
Laura laughed. "I think there's a bite or two left," she told him.
He turned her deftly into his arms. "But first," he said, lowering his lips toward hers, "I need to do this." As their lips met, there was a knock on the door, and Remington felt Laura's shoulders begin to shake. "Stop laughing, woman," he ordered. "It's devilishly hard to kiss you when you're laughing."
"We just can't seem to get away from interruptions, Mr. Steele," she teased, tossing her head back as they heard Mary speaking to someone in the hallway.
Remington stole a quick kiss, then turned to greet Daniel's friends from Glen Cray…
***
Mary promised Remington that she would visit them in Los Angeles
soon, and Laura waved to the old woman until the rented car turned
a corner and she was lost from sight. "Do you really think
she'll come to Los Angeles?" she asked Remington as he braked
for a flock of sheep crossing the road, waving at the herdsman
behind them.
"I hope so. I'd like to talk her into moving there permanently. Right now, she's all the family I have."
"What about Daniel's cousins?"
Remington's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Daniel hadn't seen them since he left home at fourteen," he reminded her. "Let me get used to having a grandmother first, okay?"
Laura sat back. "I wonder if Mary would come to Los Angeles to dance at your wedding?" she asked thoughtfully, watching Remington out of the corner of her eye.
It took him a full quarter mile to realize what she'd said. When he did, he brought the car to a full stop, nearly putting them both through the front window, and turned to look at her. "And just who did you have in mind to be my bride, Miss Holt?" he questioned, his look wary, as if he thought she'd back out any minute.
"Oh, I don't know. Clarissa, maybe." She laughed when he frowned.
"Marvin's- friend?" he said. "Really, Laura. Not in my wildest dreams."
"Felicia, then?" He gave an exaggerated shudder at the idea. "Let's see. Who else is there, then?"
Remington pulled her into his arms. "How about an aggravating, independent, thoroughly captivating, beautiful lady detective?"
"Do you know anyone like that, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked with wide eyed curiosity.
"Oh, I do indeed, Miss Holt," he said, lowering his lips to hers. "I do indeed." His lips met hers, and Laura returned his kiss.
The Range Rover came up behind the car parked in the middle of the road. The driver waited, and waited a little longer, but neither of the car's occupants moved. Frustration set in, and he pressed the horn. "Hey, mate!" the driver called. "Move it, will you? Gotta get to town." When the little car didn't budge, the driver put his car into reverse and went through the verge of the roadway, laying on the horn as he passed them.
"Did you hear something, Miss Holt?" Remington asked once the kiss ended.
"Just my heart, Mr. Steele," Laura told him, and lifted her lips for another kiss.
For the first time, Remington knew that her heart and head were finally in sync, no longer hidden from either of them. He lifted his head to look into her brown eyes. "I love you, Laura. Now, and for the rest of my life. I could no more stop than I could stop breathing."
"I know. And I love you," she told him, pulling his lips back to hers…