"It'll pass," he assured Remington, taking a drink of water from the pitcher near the bed. "There. Now. Where were we?"
"Talking about the watch, I believe. About how you managed to get it."
"Ah, yes. The watch. A year or so after I found you, I ran into Patrick one day. I told him all about you- probably bored the man to tears. He said he wished that Kevin would find his son- that the Earl was constantly bothering him about it. That's when I suggested that he simply- tell the Earl that the watch had been stolen."
"You what?" Remington asked, shocked by the admission.
"I had my reasons, Harry," Daniel said. "It would serve to stop the Earl's badgering poor Patrick, and if Patrick HAD found Sean, he could still have given the watch to him as he'd been asked to do. So Patrick took my advice, told the Earl that someone had broken into his flat and stolen it. Patrick never heard from the Earl again."
"But he DID keep looking for Sean James," Remington said.
"He asked around, checked with members of the family who would know- but there wasn't a trace of either of them. I didn't see Patrick again until just before he died. I was in Ireland, stopped by Kerry Clare to visit him. He told me that he was in a bit of a trouble, but couldn't go to the police, wished he had the money to hire a private investigator to help him. I suggested that he give you a call- or write you. I gave him your phone number and address, then left, returning to London. I suppose he felt he couldn't contact you directly. I had no idea that he'd used the watch to lure you to Ireland- Or that you would trace it back to the Earl. You've no idea how surprised I was when you told me that you thought Kevin Landers might be your father."
"And when he said I wasn't? Why not tell me the truth then?"
"You weren't ready to find out that I was your father, Harry," Daniel insisted. "At least, I didn't think you were." Remington's eyes pinned him to the chair. "All right. Yes, I was afraid. Afraid of losing what we had. Of losing you again." He looked away. "Before I turned down the job with Kevin, we had a long talk. He told me about Deirdre, and I told him about Rose- and that you were my son. Kevin- seemed to understand. He told me that, with Patrick's death, he'd all but given up on ever finding Sean." Daniel opened the watch again. "He gave this to me, to give to you, should I ever find the courage to tell you the truth." He finally closed the watch, holding it out to his son. "From the Earl- and from your father."
Remington took the watch, then looked at Daniel. "Thank you," he said as the nurse entered the room, then paused.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a visitor, Mr. Chalmers."
"Millie, my father, Daniel Chalmers."
Millie glanced at Daniel's left hand. "Mr. Chalmers," she said. "I was just wondering if you were ready for your dinner?" she asked Remington.
"Is it that late already?" he asked, frowning. "I hadn't realized we talked for such a long time."
Daniel picked up his coat. "I'm going to find a hotel room and get some rest," he told Remington.
"Don't forget to call that doctor."
"I won't."
"Oh, and- if you wouldn't mind- could you stop by the Rossmore building? Pick up my cases before- anyone stumbles onto them?"
"Your cases?"
Remington smiled at Millie, who had been looking appraisingly at Daniel. "Could you excuse us, Millie?"
"Sure. I'll bring your dinner right in."
Both men watched her saunter across the room. Once the door closed, Remington explained. "I sent them on ahead yesterday. And I called George- to doorman, to keep them in the storeroom until I sent someone for them."
"I'll stop by," Daniel promised. "Anything else you need?"
"I think that's all. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." Daniel hesitated a moment before giving him a brief hug.
"Good night, Harry. Don't make any rash decisions, okay? About the surgery, I mean."
"I'll think about it, Daniel," he said, waving as the door closed, then opened to allow Millie back into the room with a tray of food.
"Here we go, Mr. Chalmers," she said brightly, placing the tray on the bed table, then helping his into a sitting position, fluffing his pillows. "I can see where you get your good looks, Mr. Chalmers," she commented. "Your father's a very handsome man."
Picking up his fork, Remington smiled. "Could you do a favor for me, Millie?"
"Anything, Mr. Chalmers," she said rather breathlessly.
"Could you possibly get Dr. Carstairs on the telephone for me?"
She fluffed the pillow again. "Of course. Right after dinner-."
"Now, if you don't mind." As she dialed, he started eating the meal she'd placed before him. Strange how hospital food always TASTED like hospital food- no matter if you were there as a paying customer or a on charity."
Millie held out the telephone. "He's on the line, Mr. Chalmers."
Remington took the phone, and waited for her to leave the room again. "Dr. Carstairs?"
"Is there a problem, Mr. Chalmers?"
"No, and I'm sorry to disturb you at home, but I wanted to find out how soon you could schedule the surgery."
"You've made up your mind then."
"Yes. I need to get back on my feet as soon as possible."
"I'll need to run a couple more tests- will tomorrow afternoon be soon enough?"
"Perfect."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Remington hung up the telephone. Fifty-fifty, the doctor had said. He'd taken far worse odds on many times and won. He just hoped his luck was still holding.
Daniel was waiting at the window of his room when they brought him back from the second test. He was irritable from being poked, stuck, and prodded, but he tried to smile. "You're looking much better this morning, Daniel," he commented as the male nurse helped him back into his bed. "Did you get my things?"
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"Dr. Carstairs will be in soon, Mr. Chalmers," the nurse said.
"Thank you, Nick." He looked closely at Daniel. "Did you call that doctor?"
"Yes. I have an appointment with Dr. Johanssen for tomorrow morning. And- I spoke to Mary. Laura called the house, looking for us."
Remington felt the tension leave him. "What did she say?" he asked. Until that moment, he hadn't been at all certain that Laura had been waiting for him at Griffith Park.
"Who? Laura? Or Mary?"
"Mary."
"That we weren't there, but that she'd relay a message as soon as she heard from us."
"She's looking for me," he said. "Not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one."
"Good, surely. Means she's not angry with you for standing her up."
"Possibly. I'm just glad she's going through the trouble to try," he said, his relieved smile fading as Dr. Carstairs entered the room. "Harry. Mr. Chalmers. Everything's a go for this afternoon, Harry," he said. "If you're still sure about this."
"I'm sure," Remington answered.
"What's a go?" Daniel asked. "Sure about what?"
"I've decided to have the surgery, Daniel."
"But, Harry, I thought we were going to discuss it."
"It's my decision, Daniel. End of discussion."
Daniel turned toward the windows as Carstairs held out some papers. "I need your signature on these. Standard release forms, things like that."
Remington signed the forms, finding that signing his real name was as easy for him as signing "Remington Steele". "There you go," he said, glancing at Daniel's back. He wa angry. Remington could tell that by the way his tailored coat was taunt across his shoulders.
Carstairs took the papers. "Okay. We're scheduled for one. And the surgery will probably take several hours. After that, you'll be totally immobilized for twenty four hours."
"How soon will you know if it was successful?"
"You should have some feeling in your feet after ten to twelve hours - if not sooner." The doctor glanced up at Daniel again. "I'll do my best, Mr. Chalmers."
"Thank you," was Daniel's tight response.
"Well, I'll see you later, Harry," Carstairs said. "Mr. Chalmers."
Remington watched as his father - would he ever get used to thinking of Daniel in that way?- paced the room. "Stop pouting, Daniel."
"I'm not pouting, Harry," he insisted, turning around.
"All right, let's have this out. You think I'm making a mistake, don't you?"
"I had hoped you'd think this through a bit more," Daniel admitted.
"I have. I've got to get back on my feet a quickly as possible. If that means I take a risk, then I'll do it."
"I still think you should at least call Laura- let her know."
"That I can't walk? Daniel, you know as well as I do that she'd be down here-."
"Would that be so terrible, my boy?"
"I won't have her pity, Daniel."
"What if something goes wrong?"
"It won't. But if it does," Remington amended, pulling a manila envelope from the table beside him, "Everything is in here. I want your word that you'll-."
Daniel backed away a step, shaking his head. "Don't ask that of me, Harry. I'm as superstitious about some things as you are, remember? Now, put it down." He waited for Remington to do as he asked. "Thank you." He sat down. "You mentioned yesterday that you'd been to the convent. Spoke with someone who remembers your mother?"
"The current Reverend Mother. She was just a few months younger than my mother, but remembers that Rose was always willing to pitch in and help with the other young women who were there. That, in fact, the former Reverend Mother tried to convince her to stay on once she'd had her child, to join the order. But she refused, insisted that she couldn't join the order, that she was a married woman, and would be with her husband and son as soon as she could be. When Rose died, the last thing she did was give something to the young novitiate who was taking care of her, said she wanted it to go to her son, that it was the only thing she had to give him. The nun hadn't the heart to tell her that they wouldn't be allowed to send anything of a personal nature with me."
"What did she leave?" Daniel asked.
"There's a bag in the drawer there- with my personal items in it. Could you get it for me?" he asked.
"This one?" Daniel asked, then carried to Remington, who dumped it on to the bed table. He searched through the items, until he came up with what he was looking for.
"This."
Daniel took it with shaking hands, recognizing it. His eyes filled with tears, blurring the small item, and Remington placed a hand over his father's, the ring in Daniel's palm seeming to connect them both, somehow, with the woman who had once worn it.
To Be Continued. . .