- A Steele To Remember
- Remington's Story
- Part 4
-
- Armed with his new knowledge, Remington
timed his return to London to arrive the evening before Daniel
was due to return. He managed to avoid Mary's questions, claiming
tiredness and staying in his room.
He was in Daniel's room the next morning when he heard a car
pull up to the house and looked out of the window. Daniel was
home. From here, Remington saw- for the first time -all the things
that should have led him to the truth. The bearing, the mannerisms,
the ready smile. He turned and went to the chest, intending to
take out the photograph and watch, but his hand fell as well
on a bottle of pills.
He couldn't confront Daniel yet. Couldn't take out his anger
on a man in his state of ill health. It wasn't anger that Daniel
was his father. He'd long since gotten past the fury he'd felt
toward his absent parent. No, it was anger at the fact that Daniel
had kept it a secret for so long. TOO long, perhaps, Remington
thought, leaving the photo in its place, face down as he'd first
found it, the watch under it.
He kept the pills in his hand and slowly closed the drawer as
he heard Mary saying, "I've no idea where he went. He just-
took off almost a week ago. And he only returned late last night."
"You said on the telephone that he told you it had something
to do with his father?"
"Aye," she answered grimly. "Daniel, y'can't let
him go on another wild goose chase."
"I think the first thing to do is find out exactly what
he thinks he's found. Were there any messages?"
"Dr. Hamilton wants you to call him."
Daniel opened his door. "When did he call?"
"A week ago," Remington answered, causing Daniel and
Mary to start nervously.
"Harry. Mary said you were resting."
"I thought we needed to talk," Remington said, his
eyes never leaving Daniel.
"About- what precisely?" Daniel asked, his voice wary.
"This," Remington told him, tossing the bottle of pills
in his direction. Daniel caught them easily. "Why didn't
you tell me, Daniel?"
Daniel remained outwardly calm, but Remington could see the slight
shaking of his hand as he put the bottle on a table. "I
didn't see any reason to tell you. It's nothing. I'm sure-."
"The TRUTH, Daniel," Remington insisted, never raising
his voice. "There are far too many lies between us already."
Daniel's eyes met his as Mary's soft voice broke the ensuing
silence. "He's right, Daniel. Y'need t'talk. I'll go start
dinner."
Once the door closed, Daniel asked, "What lies, Harry?"
"The only one I want to discuss at this particular moment
is your health. The rest can wait. How long have you been ill?"
"According to the doctor- for some time," Daniel admitted
at last, looking tired as he sat down in a chair. "I've
suffered mild chest pains, shortness of breath- all of the other
symptoms for years, but I kept dismissing them, putting off seeing
a doctor."
"What changed?"
"Right after your last visit, I was on the verge of accepting
the Earl's offer to be his Chief of Security when I had some
more serious chest pains. Mary and the Earl both insisted that
I go to a doctor about them. You know how Mary worries. Anyway,
I went, and the result was a drawer full of pills and little
hope for the future."
"That's why you turned down the job."
"I didn't see any reason to begin the new life that it promised,"
he admitted.
"You should have called me, Daniel. Let me know."
"Mary wanted to. I had the devil of a time convincing her
not to. But you've made a new life for yourself in Los Angeles,
Harry. Now, honestly, what would your first reaction have been
had I called?"
"I would have come to London," Remington answered.
"And jeopardized your entire future with Laura?"
"She would have understood. I'd have found some way, Daniel."
"You've just answered your question, Harry. I'm nowhere
near important enough in the scheme of things for you to put
your life on hold."
"Maybe you are to me," Remington said quietly, and
thought he saw a glimmer of gratitude in the man's eyes. "Have
you seen a specialist?"
"One or two. Dr. Hamilton has another he wants to send me
to, but the chances aren't very good-."
"And how many times have you bet against worse odds, Daniel?
And won?"
"Perhaps MY lucky streak has just- played out, Harry,"
he said tiredly. "All I want now is to spend what time I
have left doing what I do best. I've agreed to help a friend
get her father out of Russia. He's missing, and-."
"Let her ask someone else. You're going to be too busy."
"Harry, you know that I can't do that. I can no more turn
my back on a friend than you can."
"*I*'m asking you to stay here, Daniel," Remington
said, still in that soft tone. "For my sake. You're going
to do everything you can- see whatever specialists necessary
until we find someone who tells us what we want to hear."
"But- I've already spent the money that Marissa-,"
Daniel objected.
Remington sighed. "I'll pay it back," he said.
Daniel frowned and went across the room to return the bottle
of pills to the drawer and to see if there was sign of anything
else being disturbed, Remington was sure. At last he turned around.
"Very well, Harry. You win. But I'll pay the money back
myself."
"Call your friend, ask her to dinner and we'll take care
of it. And then, I want you to call Dr. Hamilton about that appointment."
Daniel watched him go to the door. "Harry, we need to talk."
Remington's hand remained on the doorknob and he didn't turn
around as he replied. "It can wait, Daniel. I'll see you
at dinner."
Once he reached his own room, Remington closed the door and leaned
heavily against the wood. It had taken a lot out of him to face
Daniel, to remain so calm in the light of his new knowledge.
But he would be damned if a confrontation about all the years
of lies caused Daniel's death now.
God, he wished he could call Laura. Talk to her about all this.
Five more weeks, he told himself. In five weeks, he'd have all
this resolved, and would be able to return to Laura with the
one thing she'd always wanted from him: his real name.
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But, as usual, things didn't go exactly as planned. After a long
talk with Dr. Hamilton, Remington had decided that it was still
to dangerous to have it out with Daniel. So he simply stood at
Daniel's side, accompanying him to his appointments, visiting
him in the hospital during a short stay, but never saying a word
about that photograph or the watch.
Five weeks later, Remington watched as Daniel poured himself
a small glass of whiskey. "Daniel. Dr. Lehman said-."
"I was there, Harry," Daniel reminded him. "Remember?
And I refuse to give up the things that make my life at all worthwhile."
He opened the cigar case, only to frown as Harry slammed the
lid closed.
"Dammit, Daniel, I'm trying to keep you alive, you bloody
old fool! The least you can do is meet me halfway!"
"Well who asked you to? What gives you the right to tell
me what I can and can't or will or won't do?" Daniel wanted
to know.
Remington's gaze locked with Daniel's. "I think we both
know the answer to that, don't' we, Daniel?" he asked in
a soft, dangerous voice. The whiskey and cigars were forgotten.
"I mean, even if it weren't for the fact that you took me
off the streets, saved MY life- there's still something else,
isn't there? Some- other connection?" When Daniel's eyes
fell and he sat down, Remington continued. "You know, I
used to wonder why. Why- out of all the other kids in Brixton,
why me? Why you chose a grubby, angry little pickpocket to take
in. Why you went to such trouble to turn me into a gentleman.
Why you pushed and shoved me out of Brixton and into this,"
he said, indicating the townhouse that was a world away from
the cubby hole he'd slept in before.
"How did you find out, Harry?" Daniel asked at last.
"Quite by accident. Were you planning to tell me at all,
Daniel? Or did you intend to simply leave me wondering who I
was for the rest of my life?"
"There's a letter with my solicitor," Daniel said.
"After I-."
"A letter? Still running from the truth, eh, Daniel? Afraid
to own up to all the lies?"
Mary tapped cautiously on the door. "Excuse me, Harry, but-
the taxi's here t'take you t'the airport."
Remington knew that if he stayed, he and Daniel would end up
arguing. So he grabbed his coat. "We're not finished, Daniel.
Once I meet with Laura, I'll be back." He gave Mary a quick
hug. "Look after him. See that he behaves himself. And make
sure he goes to see Dr. Lehman tomorrow morning."
"I will, lad," she promised. "Good luck. Don't
you be worrin' about us here, now. We'll be fine."
Remington nodded, then met Daniel's eyes over the little woman's
head before he turned and left the house.
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His flight was late getting into LAX- and then a major traffic
tie up caused him to continually glance at his watch and frown.
It was already noon. Laura was probably waiting at the observatory,
pacing, watching for him. He could almost see the top of the
white building over the treetops. They were only a few blocks
away. When the taxi stopped again, he leaned forward to tap the
driver on the shoulder.
"I'll walk from here. Take my bags to this address,"
he said, writing the address of the apartment on Rossmore on
the back of a card. "Leave them with the doorman."
He drew out a hundred dollar bill and handed it to the man.
"Thanks, mister," he said with a grin as Remington
closed the door. He walked down the sidewalk on the other side
of the street for a little way, then, his eyes still on the glimmer
of white he could see over the trees, he stepped out to cross
just as traffic moved again.
He never saw the car that came from nowhere- the impatient driver
not seeing the man step from between two other cars until it
was too late.
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"Ohmigod," a feminine voice worried. "You okay,
mister? I called an ambulance."
Remington opened his eyes with some difficulty. "Laura."
But the woman bending over him was blonde, not brunette. He struggled
to look toward the park again. "Laura."
"Where IS that ambulance? Someone call again, will you?
The woman told one of the crowd that was gathered around. "I'm
sorry, mister. I didn't see you. I was late getting back to work.
My boss is gonna kill me," she fretted.
Remington put a hand on hers. "It's all right," he
managed as the sound of an ambulance siren reached his ears.
He started to try and sit up, but she stopped him.
"You probably shouldn't move," she warned.
Remington closed his eyes as the wave of pain hit him-and a curious
lack of pain as well. The next thing he knew an ambulance attendant
appeared, asking the standard questions. Remington answered them,
but then said, "I can't feel my legs."
The attendant glanced up at his partner, who had already brought
a back board. "Okay, Mr-?"
Remington's answer was given off the cuff, born of thoughts he
hadn't really begun to examine. "Chalmers. Harry- Harrison
Chalmers."
The attendant frowned. "Chalmers? Have you been in the papers
or something? You look familiar."
"No. Must be confusing me with someone else," he said,
wincing as they strapped him onto a board and then lifted him
to a gurney. A policeman approached, and Remington breathed a
painful sigh of relief that it was one that he'd never met.
"Miss Johnson claims you stepped in front of her car."
"It wasn't her fault," Remington answered. "My
mind was on an- appointment I was trying to keep."
"Do you need me to send a message?" the police officer
asked. "Let them know what's happened?"
"What time is it?" he asked, noticing that the crystal
on his wristwatch was shattered.
"Almost one thirty. I'd be glad to-."
"No. No, it's too late. I'll take care of it myself. Thank
you."
"Good luck, then," the officer said as the ambulance
door closed.
"Where are you taking me?" Remington asked the paramedic.
"County," he said. "Unless you want to go somewhere
else that'll take you."
Remington thought for a moment. "I seem to recall a small,
private hospital near here. Sisters of Mercy, I believe?"
The paramedic took in the cut of Remington's expensive suit,
then glanced at the driver. "Call it in."
To Be Continued . . .
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© 1999
by Nancy Eddy