- Resolved
Steele
- "Good morning, Mildred,"
Laura Holt Steele said as she entered the office just ahead
of her "husband".
"Mrs. Steele. Mr. Steele," the woman said, surprised.
"I didn't expect you in today -"
"We've been back from Ireland for two days, Mildred,"
Laura reminded her.
"And Laura was simply straining at the bit to get back into
the saddle," Steele commented archly, looking though the
message slips that Mildred handed him, a scowl on his handsome
face.
Hearing the dissatisfaction in his tone, Mildred frowned as he
turned toward his office. "I don't have anything on the
calendar for the day," she told Laura. "Why don't you
two kids take today off and come back tomorrow-?"
"I've neglected things around here for too long, Mildred,"
Laura insisted, going into her office to pick up the pile of
mail that the woman had left on her desk. "The paperwork
alone is going to take at *least* a week to bring up to date-"
"I've already taken care of the paperwork," Mildred
informed her, pointing to the neat stack of manila folders on
the desk. "All they need is your and Mr. Steele's signatures."
Laura examined the long, white envelope with her name on it.
There was no return address, no postmark. "What's this?"
"Oh, that arrived two days ago. By special messenger."
"Special messenger? Who -"
"Some law firm out of London, I think. I wondered about
it- about why it was addressed to Laura Holt instead of Remington
Steele -"
Laura looked at the neat handwriting. There was something familiar
about it. "I'll take a look at those reports, Mildred and
make sure that Mr. Steele signs them."
"Mr. Steele?" Mildred questioned.
She sighed. "Mr. Steele," she confirmed.
Mildred was confused. When she'd left them at Ashford Castle
a week ago, her employers had seemed to be the happiest couple
in the world. In fact, they'd barely acknowledged the presence
of anyone else. What had happened in that week to change that?
It was almost as if they hadn't gotten married, hadn't realized
that they cared for each other - "Mrs. Steele- is everything
all right?"
Laura sat down, opening a file folder as she did. "Everything
is just fine, Mildred," Laura said. "If there are any
calls, put them through, okay?"
"Sure."
Once the door closed behind Mildred, Laura sat back. Just fine.
What a lie that was. After a week - a blissful, *wonderful* week
in Ireland, they had returned home only to argue about Laura
giving up her loft and moving totally into the apartment on Rossmore.
She knew that he had been hurt by her insistence upon retaining
that connection with her life before their "marriage",
but Laura had been afraid.
Yes, they had made wonderful love, finally crossing that line
- and he was still here, with her. They had explored the Irish
countryside around the castle together, but he still hadn't said
the words. Of course, *she* hadn't said them either, but she
was waiting. Waiting for him to make the first move.
Her gaze fell on the envelope with her name written in that firm,
bold hand, and she picked it up, intrigued, wondering who might
have sent her something special delivery. Picking up the letter
opener, she slit the flap, pulling out two items. The first was
a letter. She glanced at the signature. "Daniel?" she
questioned softly, the second item forgotten as she began to
read.
"Laura,
Since you are reading this missive, I shall assume that I am
dead. I have known for some time that I am dying- I shan't bore
you with the details, however. Let's just say that my life finally
caught up with me.
I am writing this in the hope that you will understand a few
things about the man you refer to as "Remington Steele"
and who I call Harry. You asked me once about that name, and
I told you that it was given to him out of self-defense, since
he had so many names that he used. I did not, however, explain
my reason for choosing that particular name for the young man
that I found roaming the streets of London.
I know that you are under the impression that I don't particularly
care for you. That couldn't be farther from the truth. The truth
is, my dear, I trust you more than any person I've ever known-
except for perhaps Harry himself. If it seemed to you that we
were in a contest for him - We weren't. It was a game, if you
will. I always knew that he wouldn't leave Los Angeles once he'd
met you. But I felt I had to try- to test his determination to
change, to turn his life around. And to test your feeling for
him as well. You gave a good game, Laura. And I bow to your victory.
He's yours now - I shan't be round again to try and lure him
back into that life that he knew so well for so many years.
I told myself that, as long as he was in Los Angeles, being Remington
Steele, I would always know where he was, how he was doing. That
he was reasonably safe. Prior to his meeting you, I never really
knew where he was, what he was doing. He's happy now. Happier
than I've ever seen him - and that's important to me. It's the
most important thing in the world.
In all the years I've known Harry, I've kept only one secret
from him. It's time that I share that secret with someone else.
Someone that I know will help him to accept it, to understand
why I felt it necessary not to tell him the truth. It would have
driven him away from me - and I spent too many years searching
for him to allow that to happen.
The truth, Laura, is that I am the father that Harry has been
looking for.
I know. You probably don't believe me. You're wondering how I
could have kept silent all this time- especially after the last
year - when Harry believed that the Earl of Claridge was his
father. The time wasn't right. I'm hoping that I shall have the
opportunity to tell him the truth before it is too late - that
I shall find the courage to face my son with the truth, and make
this letter unnecessary. But I fear his anger will not allow
him to accept it easily. I am a coward, I know. I hope you- and
he can find it in your hearts to forgive me for that. And for
so much more.
I was young, and fell in love with the most exquisite young woman.
I was in Ireland, trying to con her father out of a rather large
sum of money by courting his only daughter. Instead, the gentleman
discovered my game and sent me packing. But she followed, in
spite of her father's anger. I loved her, Laura. Almost as much
as Harry loves you, I think. She was so certain that I could
change - leave the life.
I began to believe it as well.
But, being a foolish, young man, I wanted to have one last hurrah,
one last job before retiring to spend the rest of my life at
her side. I was caught- put into prison. She wrote me that she
was going to have a child. My child. That once I served my time,
we would be together, the three of us. That idea kept me alive
in that Irish prison.
Having nowhere else to go, she returned to her father, and he
took her back in. I took that as a sign that he could accept
her plans and dreams for the future. But she died within hours
of giving birth, and her father, not wanting any reminders of
my presence in his daughter's life, placed my son for adoption.
When I tried to find Harry - the name his mother planned to give
him, a family name - the man threatened me with the police. I
searched all of Ireland for the boy, and finally was forced to
admit that I had lost him.
Until I looked into the eyes of a young pickpocket on a London
street years later, I had all but given up ever finding my son.
Those eyes were as blue as his mother's - and beneath the anger
and distrust, were the eyes of a dreamer. I knew, Laura. I knew
without a doubt that he was mine. I needed no proof. But when
he fell ill a few years later, and I was forced to take him to
a hospital, pretending to be his father, I discovered evidence
that he was, indeed, my son.
Why didn't I tell him, you ask? I considered it. But you had
to have known Harry in those days. The mere mention of his father
was enough to send him into a rage. He had no use for the man
who had apparently abandoned him to foster homes and ultimately
to the streets. I knew that one hint from me that I was that
father, and Harry would bolt - disappear back into Brixton, never
to be seen again. I couldn't risk that.
So I became his mentor, his benefactor -and, I hope, his friend.
Taught him what I knew, what I felt he needed to know to stay
alive in our world. If I'd been a better father, I'm sure you're
thinking, I would have turned him away from the life. Away from
that world. But I didn't. And I make no apologies for it, Laura.
I'm handing my son over to your care, Laura. I know that you'll
take care of him - love him, as he loves you, even if he can't
say the words. He DOES love you. I can see that every time he
says your name, or looks at you. You've changed him- for the
better.
I shall leave it to you how to tell him about this- if at all.
But knowing you, you'll tell him. Enclosed you will find a birth
certificate - Harry's. It should be enough of a start for him
to trace down any further answers to his questions.
Take care of my son, Laura.
Farewell,
Daniel"
The letter was dated a year ago, and Laura turned her attention
to the other piece of paper. It was, as Daniel had indicated,
a birth certificate. And on that yellowed, faded slip of paper
was the answer to Mr. Steele's most important question: his name.
Harrison Chalmers Reardon. Laura smiled. Daniel was right. She
*did* love him. That sly old fox had seen so much more than she'd
given him credit for. Including his son's love for her. Harry.
His name was Harry.
Laura felt a sense of peace come over her heart. Things would
work out. And the best way to start them on the right track,
she decided, smiling, was to show this to Harry. She rose and
went to the connecting door, not bothering to knock before entering
the larger office.
He was standing at the window, looking out over the street below.
Laura walked up to join him, placing her arm through his. "What's
so interesting?"
"Nothing. Not much else to do at the moment- besides think,
-"
Laura looked up at him, holding out the letter. "You might
want to think about this," she told him.
"What is it?"
"A letter. From Daniel to me."
"From- Daniel?" She saw the sadness that entered his
eyes when any mention was made of his father. Taking the paper,
he sat down in the chair behind his desk to read as Laura rubbed
his shoulders in a soothing movement. As he finished, Laura knelt
by him, meeting that questioning blue gaze. She gave him the
birth certificate, watching his reaction as he read, for the
first time, the name of his mother and the name she had given
him before dying.
"Harry," Laura said. "Your name really *is* Harry."
He pulled her up, into his lap, holding her tightly. Laura felt
his shuddering sigh as she smoothed the dark hair. "I love
you. It doesn't matter what your name is." He lifted his
head.
"Really?"
"Really."
"That's good. Because-" he paused, as if having to
gather the words, the courage to open himself up completely.
"Because I've been in love with you since that first day
in this office. And that's never going to change."
Laura smiled. "Why don't we take Mildred's suggestion and
take the rest of the day off?" Laura said softly. "And
tomorrow, we'll trace down that name on that birth certificate
-"
He shook his head. "I'll agree about the suggestion, but
I've no need to find my grandfather, Laura. Not as long as I
have you beside me. You're all the family I'll ever need."
Laura smiled and pressed her lips to his. Daniel had been right
all along.
The End (Or the Beginning?)
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