In All the Empty Places 3

~ In All the Empty Places ~
by Janneen Brownell

Disclaimers: This story and characters are all mine and any resemblance to anyone living, dead or on television is in the mind of the reader. Readers who are disturbed by references to physical abuse should read this story with caution. As this is my first story posted to the net, I was conservative with sexual scenes. I hope you enjoy my little tale.

Comments, good or bad, can be sent to ga_onmymind@yahoo.com

11.

I woke up alone the next morning. I went to sleep holding Alec, but she gave no indication that she knew I was there. I sat up in the bed, blinking in the hideously bright sunlight streaming through the open window. Before the question "Where am I?" could form completely, I knew where I was and the whole nightmarish day came flooding back to me.

Alec was gone and she was not in the best frame of mind. I jumped from the bed. The T-shirt I dropped over her head the night before was lying on the floor. I snatched it up and put it on and grabbed a pair of jeans. Alec was wandering around Windchase. Oh, God, what if she ran into Jillian? Or my father? What if she didn't remember about the reporters and tried to leave in my car? What if she simply snapped and walked over the cliff?

With my heart pounding and worst case scenarios playing in graphic detail in my head, I leaned over the balcony railing and frantically searched the lower floor. I scanned the foyer and living room in a futile search for first Alec and, failing that, anyone. Windchase was deadly quiet. Where could she be? Anywhere, answered a voice immediately. Alec could be anywhere. She could have left Windchase at any time while I, and everyone else, slept. She was a grown woman who needed permission from no one to drive through the gates of Windchase. It would have been hard if the reporters were still camped outside, but not impossible.

Finally, there was no where left for me to look but outside. I saw her as soon as I stepped into the living room. I stopped and stared at her sitting so serenely on the patio, her gaze on the wide Pacific. I closed my eyes in silent prayer of thanks to whatever god it was that watched over her.

The time was early morning and a soft breeze off the water ruffled the hair around her face as she stared into the distance. I waited a few minutes before going to her. I did not want to look as terrified as I felt.

"Good morning Alec."

She did not turn from the view. At first I thought she either did not hear or was going to ignore me, and with Alec both were equal possibilities. Then, her chin lifted a fraction of an inch and she said, so very softly, "Is it?"

My heart fell. Did I really think she would survive yesterday without more scars? Yes, Victoria, like a fool you truly believed Alec would come from that scene complete and still the woman you knew in Aubres. I sat across from her and tensed as she turned her face to me.

Staring at me from a face that was pale and carved from stone, were those damned dark, lifeless gray eyes. Gone was the peace she had found in Aubres. Gone, too, was the warmth and amusement that made her eyes that wonderful silver color I loved.

"It's a beautiful morning," I amended with a tentative smile. Alec did not respond to my feeble attempt to lighten the mood. A china cup and saucer sat next to her hand and she took a sip from the cup before returning her gaze to the ocean.

"You could paint it. For the new Chasen Originals."

Please, please respond, I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake her, make her show anger or fury, anything besides this silent indifference. When she remained silent, I reached for her hand and curled my fingers around her icy cold ones. I spoke softly, "Alec, what are you thinking?"

I refused to ask if she was all right because we both knew that she had not been all right for a long time. Since I came back into her life to be exact. If I knew on that long drive to Aubres that I would be shattering her life, there is not a power on earth that could have made me slide down her sand dune that day.

"That I will never be Alec Chasen again. All I ever wanted was to be left alone, Victoria. I never asked for more, ever. From anyone. Why was that too much to ask?"

"Then why did you write your book?" Writing an autobiography as incendiary as hers was not the best way to stay in the background. But then, neither was being painter Alec Chasen.

Her shoulders dropped slightly, as if the weight she carried had just grown heavier. "Because they are never going to leave me alone. I knew that the second you told me Jill told you who I was. I am Kellen Brent. They might have killed me, but they are not going to let me go."

"Alec, Jillian love-"

She snatched her hand away and faced me, her eyes blazing with fury. "Stop it, Victoria! Don't defend her to me anymore. Jillian does not now nor did she ever love me. God knows what it is she felt, but it was never love. Or if it was, I hope I am never loved like that by anyone ever again."

I chose my next words carefully. I did not want to alienate Alec from me on Jillian's behalf. I liked Jillian, but I was not willing to make that grand sacrifice for her. "Alec, you will never be happy until you can forgive."

A ghost of a smile touched her face before fleeing. "You're wrong, Victoria. You've always been so wrong about that. It was never about forgiveness. I just cannot forget. I cannot forget that this family traded my life for theirs. I cannot forget that when I needed them most, they turned on me to save themselves."

"You don't know everything that happened back then, Alec," I said softly. Did I really want to go down this road?

"I know everything," she replied flatly.

I sat back and weighed telling her the truth against leaving well enough alone. What did I care if Alec hated her mother until the day she died? She was happy in Aubres, I knew that for sure. She would be happy there again. If I kept pushing her, I might not get to share that happiness with her. How far was I willing to go? And was I really doing it for Alec, or was it for Jillian?

In the end, the decision was easy. Although I believed Alec to deserved to know all the facts, I also knew it should not be now. She was still reeling from yesterday. Besides, who was I to do for Jillian what she was not willing to do for herself? She did not want Alec to know. Even if I thought she was wrong, I did not have the right to tell Alec if Jillian did not want her to know.

"Alec…"

"Good morning," my Dad's voice boomed over the patio, startling us. Jillian walked from the house with a stack of plates and Rainer carried two platters of food. Breakfast. Alec moved her cup as Jillian placed a plate in front of her. I was surprised when she gave her mother a brief smile.

Jillian looked down at me. She had recovered from yesterday. Either the hours of sleep or the numbing tranquilizers had done for her what the night had not done for Alec, given her time to recover. Her eyes were a bright green and did not have the dark circles that ringed Alec's. "What would you like to drink Victoria?"

I wasn't hungry and I didn't want a drink, but if Alec could sit here and have a family breakfast so could I. I smiled at her. "Coffee's fine. Do you need any help?"

She shook her head and disappeared into the house. Rainer watched her leave before sitting down. Alec sat in his left and I was on his right. He laid his hand over Alec's briefly. "It means very much to her for you to be here. Thank you."

Alec sighed. "I know you won't believe me Rainer, but hurting Jill does not make me happy. I don't want to be the cause of more pain in her life. Or more than I already am."

Her words sounded sincere and I wanted to believe, but I heard her voice from another time saying she hurt Jillian because she could. Which was true? Did she hurt Jillian because she could? She knew the power she had over her mother. She knew that Jillian wanted nothing more of the rest of her life than to spend it being part of Alec's. Paradise for Jillian would be to know what was happening in her daughter's life because Alec told her and not because someone else did. But, for Alec, being part of Jillian's life meant constant reminders of her past. It would mean forgiving her mother, something Alec wasn't ready to do now or maybe ever.

By the time Jillian returned with a carafe of coffee, we had served ourselves and were eating in silence. Alec did not fill her plate, but I was glad she was eating. Jillian held a portable phone out to Alec. Alec stared at the phone and then looked up at Jillian with a blank face. Her mother knew she did not take phone calls. Jillian put the phone by Alec's hand and said simply, "Elane."

We listened to Alec's side of the conversation as we ate. Elane, as her agent, was besieged with phone calls from reporters. They wanted interviews and comments about the newspaper story. Elane was running out of ways to say no comment.

"I don't know what I am going to do," Alec said, her voice uncertain.

I caught my Dad watching her with a frown. Was he realizing, as I did earlier, that Alec was not recovering as fast as Jillian from yesterday? Alec needed time she may not have to deal with the changes in her life. Perhaps she did not realize how her life would change once her book was out. Writing the book may have been as far in the future as she could see.

"I don't know. I'll let you know when I decide."

"Decide what?" Rainer asked. I wanted to ask and I was glad my Dad did not know and would not care that she hated to be questioned. Alec could not hurt him with her silence the way she could hurt me.

"Interviews, with everyone. It seems I can name my price."

"You don't have to do interviews, Alec," I said. She did not owe the public anything, least of all answers about her family. Everything was explained in her book and whatever was left out deserved to be left unknown. There was no reason for her rip her soul open for the entertainment for the masses.

She looked over at Jillian and they shared a bitter smile. If only it was that easy, they seemed to be saying. Alec stood up, her gaze dropping to Rainer. "May I use your office to make some phone calls? I have some people to speak with before I make any decisions."

"Of course. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you," she said and walked quickly from the room.

Rainer left a few minutes after Alec. I became uncomfortable when I realized I was alone with Jillian for the first time since yesterday. I was never really comfortable with her before, but with their words ringing in my ears, I could not meet her eyes. It was one thing to know something horrible had happened to them that night, it was something different to know exactly what Brian did.

"Are you all right?" She asked quietly.

The concern in her voice surprised me. She was asking how I was after yesterday? "Yes. Are you?"

Her smile was brief. "And Alec? How did she sleep last night?"

"Not well. I think the book and…yesterday have shaken her. She gets very closed when her life gets chaotic."

I remembered how she was those last months in LA. Her silence was cloaked in anger and pain. She wanted to be left alone then, left to deal with her memories by drowning them in alcohol. She survived by denying Kellen's memories were her own. That night, those things did not happen to her. That night happened to Kellen Brent and she was Alec Chasen. I was afraid for her. Afraid she could not handle the merging of her past and present without a crutch to lean on for support.

Jillian's next questions was hesitant. "Have you read her book?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I didn't know she was writing one until Dad called. I guess I knew she was doing something, but I would have never thought that. I didn't think she had the courage."

Jillian sat back, her eyes drifting over the patio. A warm ocean breeze played with her hair. She never looked more like her daughter than she did at that moment. "Patrick thought she was weak. He thought he could manipulate her and do to her what he did to Brian. He destroyed Brian. He took a little boy who only wanted to please his father and twisted him until there was nothing left. My daughter is nothing like his son. She is strong and she will do what Brian never could."

I saw it then, the reason her fear of Patrick was gone. It wasn't my Dad and whatever protections she imagined he could give her and Alec. Her only fear of Patrick was what he could and would do to her daughter. Jillian knew from bitter experience that she could not protect her. Her fear was gone because she knew, or at least believed, Alec could protect herself. She was right, her daughter was nothing like Patrick's son.

She stood up. "Rainer wants to open our gifts this afternoon. I'd prefer not to, but he's like a little boy. Will you join us? Your Dad would love it."

I nodded. She didn't mention Alec and neither did I. I think we both knew that was too much to expect.

~~~~

Jillian and I were in the kitchen quietly throwing together lunch when Alec came into the room. I smiled at her, but was looking for any signs that she was slipping away from us. Her eyes were not as dark as they were on the patio. She leaned against the counter and watched us.

"Uh...Jill?" She asked hesitantly.

Jillian froze. She looked up and behind her composed expression was panic. This was the first time Alec spoke to her since yesterday on the patio. "Yes, darling?"

Alec looked down at the counter as she spoke. "I talked to my editor. The book is coming out in a few days. I asked her to send over some copies. I thought you....Well, if you want to, you can read the book before it comes out."

Jillian stared at Alec in a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours. Emotions flickered over her face, all them forms of fear. No, she did not want to read Alec's book. She did not want to read page after page detailing how she let her daughter down in every way possible. Her biggest fear had to be telling Alec without losing whatever little ground she had gained.

Alec peeked up from under her long bangs. "If you don't want to read it, I don't mind. I don't know that I want you to either."

Some of the fear left Jillian's face and her smile was tentative. "I do want a copy. One day I will read it."

"Okay," Alec said with obvious relief in her voice.

"Will you sign my copy?" I asked to lighten the mood.

A quick grin flashed across her face. "You know how Alec Chasen does not attend showings? Kellen Brent does not do autographs."

We laughed, but I knew I had ways to get her to write something sweet in the front cover. Alec set the table while Jillian and I arranged the food on platters. Lunch was thick slices of smoked honey ham, potato salad, green beans and buttered crescent rolls. Jillian called to Rainer several times before leaving us alone to get him when he did not answer.

I put my arms around Alec from behind. "Are you okay?"

I wanted an honest answer. If she wasn't comfortable, if she only putting on an act, we would leave. She did not have to stay, even if Windchase offered her the best protection against the media. She nodded and leaned back against me.

"I think so."

She did not elaborate and I let it go. She seemed all right and if it was only an illusion, it was one I did not mind living in for a little while longer. I would watch for signs she was lying or if being here was too hard for her.

We moved apart when we heard Jillian's heels tapping against the tile. She came into the room shaking her head. "Men. I don't know why we…"

She stopped mid-step. I was trying to keep the smile from my face because her expression was comical. She realized too late that she was talking to lesbians. She recovered her poise, saying calmly, "Let's start without him."

I caught Alec's gaze we sat down. Her smile was in her eyes.

~~~~

Alec laid down to rest after lunch. We decided to open our gifts while she was asleep. I left mine for her and hers for me to open together, later in our room. I felt stupid at first. Christmas the day after? The reason why we were celebrating a day late was never far from my mind. Jillian and I waited for Rainer in the gaily decorated living room.

I caught Jillian staring at the wrapped present from Alec. Could she open it? I think Alec had a lot of courage and I believe she got it from her mother. Regardless of what she thought the painting held for her, she would open it because not opening a present from Alec was never an option.

"Ready?" Rainer asked, coming into the room with a red Santa hat stuck jauntily on his head. I had to laugh. I had forgotten the hat. He stopped wearing it when I decided there wasn't a Santa Claus. It was just the touch we needed to give the occasion a festive feel.

The last gift opened was Jillian's painting. Rainer did not do any of the silly things he had done with the other presents. He knew she was anxious over this gift. He pulled the painting to the middle of the room and propped the canvas against the back of the couch. I already knew the staples could not be removed by hand, but said nothing as my father struggled. I did not want to spoil Jillian's initial reaction by slipping that I had seen the painting. My father is a bright man and he soon realized he needed help. Jillian stood a few feet away and stared at the covering as if she could see the painting if she tried hard enough.

Rainer came back with a hammer and quickly went to work on the staples. I moved in front of Jillian. I waited, feeling as tense as she looked as she gathered her courage to pull away the cloth. Finally, with a deep breath, she tugged the cloth away. Her expression was worth the wait. Her eyes widened in surprise and recognition. She knew this child. She lifted shaky fingers to her lips as she whispered, "Kellen."

My father moved behind her and slipped his arms around her shoulders. She reached out to touch the painting, her fingers traced the strokes of Alec's brush. She wasn't here in the living room with us, touching a painting of her lost little girl. She was in the past, in a time where touching Alec was something she took for granted. She was in a place where her daughter was Kellen and she was Mommy.

"She is incredibly talented," Rainer said softly. Was he just realizing that?

Jillian nodded slowly. "She was painting before she could write her name. You should have seen her. She was so cute. She always got more paint on herself than she did on the paper."

"Where do you want to put it?" Rainer looked around the room as if trying to decide on which wall to hang this newest Chasen.

Jillian looked up and I saw her reluctantly pull herself from away from the wonderful place where Kellen still belonged to her. Her eyes skimmed over the room. Her gaze came to rest on the dark Chasen Original. The paintings were so different they could have been done by different people. "Not in here. The sun room, I think. This one belongs in a cheerful room."

Rainer hefted the painting and they left for the sun room. I did not go with them. I walked out onto the patio instead. I probably should not have watched Jillian uncover the painting. Her reaction was more intimate and open than I expected. She loved Kellen and loves Alec very much. I did not want to know how she survived losing her.

How did either of them survive? Denial can take you only so far into the night, the dark can only hold off the memories for so long before they refused to be denied. What do you do then? How can you forget what is unforgivable? How do you forgive what you can never forget? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe what I saw as survival was merely existence. Being alive and sane was not the same as living and whole. Alec told me she was not the person she would have been had that night never happened. I think the same could be said of Jillian.

~~~~

I let Alec sleep until late in the afternoon. I think it was in a vain hope that sleep could do for her what last night's had done for Jillian. I wanted to believe time was all she needed to heal. She was curled in the middle of the bed with hands clasped under her cheek. I slipped carefully into the bed behind her. I leaned over and caressed her cheek with gentle fingers.

"Alec, wake up."

She was reluctant to leave her sweet dreams. Thick lashes fluttered, refusing to reveal her eyes. Lips pouted and her brow furrowed as her face frowned. Her body curled tighter and she turned away from me, burying her face in her hands.

"Alec," I singsonged, "Wake up."

She did not move. "Why?"

"Well be eating dinner soon."

She nodded. "Pass. I'd rather sleep."

"You need to eat."

She leaned back against me, turning her face to glare at me. "I am not a child, Victoria. Besides, I do not think Jill will begrudge me a midnight raid in the kitchen if I wake up hungry later."

"No, she wouldn't," I snapped. "There isn't much your mother would deny you."

I rolled off the bed. After watching Jillian unwrap the painting earlier, I was not interested in hearing Alec's caustic opinions of her mother. How could she not care how desperate Jillian was to please her?

Alec sat up and raked fingers through her tousled hair. I watched her and my anger crept away in shame when I saw how weary she was. She put her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. I cringed when her dark, tired eyes looked up at me.

"Do I have time for a shower?"

I was going to go crazy if this continued. When I saw what this was doing to Alec, I was angry at Jillian. When I saw what this was doing to Jillian, I was angry with Alec. I did not want to choose sides because I knew both women were hurting. However, I either had to stay in the middle or pick one side. "I'm sorry Alec. Of course sleep. That's more important right now."

She stared at me, her silence stretching my taunt nerves closer to the breaking point. I was grateful when she closed her eyes. I wasn't used to seeing her emotions reflected so clearly in the shadowed gray. I almost wished for the time when her emotions were locked away, if only because that meant she wasn't overwhelmed.

"This is not a fairy tale and there is not going to be a happy ending. I don't know what fantasies you have weaved, but I cannot give you this family."

She opened her eyes and her mask was firmly in place. "I won't even lie and say I wish I could."

"Is that what you think I want?"

She shrugged and looked away. "Before you wanted answers more than you wanted me. Now you want me to be Kellen for her. I lost you when I did not give you answers. Is that what happens this time, too, Tory? Do I lose you because I cannot be five years old again?"

Her words were calm and casual, spoken in an ordinary tone that gave me chills. I would lose her if I continued to push for Jillian's absolution. I knew without a doubt that I would never get another chance with her again. I believed she loved me. We both knew she could live without me.

Never before in my life did I see my future so clearly. I saw two roads open before me. Alec was part of my life in one; I heard about her life through Jillian and Elane in the other. I would die if I had to be on the edges of her life, always knowing where and how she was, but from the distant sidelines. I was not Jillian. I did not have to be grateful for what others could give me of Alec.

I moved to the bed. I pushed her back against the blankets and laid on top of her. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she stared up at me. Her hands pressed against my shoulders as if to push me away. I did not have to push hard to lower myself fully onto her.

"I want you. I've always wanted you. All of you. That means knowing everything that makes you who you are today. More than anything else in the world, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She wanted to believe me. I saw in her eyes the desperate desire to be loved, by someone, for reasons that had nothing to do with her paintings or her name. I saw her fear that she was nothing without either. I knew only one way to convince her to trust me. I slipped my hands under her head into the baby soft hair at her neck. As I slowly lowered my face to hers, I stared into her eyes, willing her to believe she was all I needed.

Her kiss was tentative and questioning. Do you love me? Can I trust you? Will you hurt me? Yes, I assured with my hands and lips. Yes, I love you. Yes, you can trust me. No, I will never, ever hurt you. Show me, her hands insisted. Every touch, every stroke was a demand for proof.

Show me. I can only believe if you show me.

12.

"I'm starving," Alec said.

We were dressing the next morning in our bedroom. While my body did not mind the reason I missed dinner, my stomach was not so understanding. I watched her hurry into a pair of blue jeans and white T-shirt. She stared in the mirror and combed her tangled hair with fingers. She caught me watching and her silver eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Come on, hurry up."

Rainer and Jillian were having breakfast on the patio. A hardcover book was laid in my plate. Dad was reading his copy. Jillian's was by her plate and she was flipping through the morning paper. Both looked up as we walked out onto the patio. I stood at the table and stared down at Alec's book.

Kellen by Alec Chasen. The cover was the photo of a handsome young man in a black tuxedo and a little girl resting her sleepy blonde head on his shoulder.

"They came this morning," Jillian said. Her voice was emotionless.

I set the book aside and picked up my plate. I tried to pretend that I wasn't interested in the book. I ate a few bites of food, stared around at the gorgeous day surrounding us all the while my eyes were constantly drawn to the cover. I wanted to hurry back to our room and spend the day reading.

"Are the steps to the beach still there?" Alec asked. She had quickly cleaned her plate.

Jillian looked up from her paper and looked over to the cliff. "Yes. Be careful."

Without another word, Alec left the patio. Jillian watched her until she disappeared and then excused herself. She did not take her copy with her. I did not need to pretend I didn't care with both Jillian and Alec gone. I picked up my book and opened the cover. Breakfast could wait and there was always lunch.

"It's actually very good," my Dad said as he turned a page. "Jillian will be sorry she didn't read it."

I doubted that. What could she possibly learn that she did not already know? Especially when there was much she might read that could hurt her. Before reading the first line, I opened the book to several pages of pictures inserted in the middle. The pictures were my first inkling that her book was not going to be a light-hearted account of her life. She was a laughing, cheerful child in the photos taken at Windchase. She was solemn and unsmiling in the ones taken at Moregrove House. "I'm going to read this upstairs."

He nodded in response, but did not look up from his copy.

I did not see Alec all day while I read her book. She left me alone to read and I was grateful for the uninterrupted time to myself. I settled into the middle of the bed. I thought I knew everything now and I was not prepared for the story that awaited me.

My name is Kellen Brent. I discovered I was dead the summer I read my mother's autobiography. I was fourteen.

With that shocking beginning, Kellen detailed the lonely, confused life Alec lived in England. I learned all the things she did not tell me in Aubres. She was eight before she understood her mother was not coming back for her. Jillian never visited Moregrove House and they did not see each other again until Alec came back to the states. She learned the Brent version of that night when she bought Jillian's book while on vacation in Sydney.

I was surprised when I saw my name the first time. It never occurred to me that I would be in her book. I've always known I came into her life at a bad time. I just never would have guessed it was her darkest hour. Jillian saw her arrival in Los Angeles as a chance for them to be close. Patrick wanted to announce that Alec Chasen was Kellen Brent. Alec wanted neither. As far as she was concerned she really was dead for them. The three years she spent in Los Angeles began the downward spiral of drinking and denial that pushed her so close to insanity. She believes the move to Aubres saved her life. Los Angeles was a constant reminder of her past and she was only able to put everything into perspective and find sobriety when she left.

She told her story in an uncompromising honesty that cast blame on no one. She offered nothing to validate her claim and yet anyone who read the book would have to wonder how she could know so much if she wasn't telling the truth. She also had one fact that Patrick would find impossible to refute: she knew the truth about that night. While The Perfect Crime and Fairy Tale Beginnings sidestepped the questions that linger, Kellen had the answers. The first question that has never been satisfactorily answered was why Jillian called Patrick instead of the police. The second question is why there is a hour and a half time gap between the call to Patrick and the 911 call to the police. The tragic answer to the first question is that Kellen and not Jillian called Patrick. Her mother was in shock and her father was hurt so the only other person she knew to call was her grandfather. The answer to the second question is that Patrick had to clean up the crime scene. His son could not die from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

By the time I closed the cover, I knew Jillian would never read the book. It wasn't so much that she would not want to read what Alec thought of her. She knew exactly what her daughter thought of her. She would never read Kellen because she had missed her daughter's life in the vain hope that she could save her. Now she knew it was all for nothing.

She knew she missed her daughter's life, she would not want to know what she had missed. She would not want to read about the emergence of Alec Chasen, artist. She could never attend the showing that rocked London's art world when Alec was only sixteen. She could never share in Alec's many successes or comfort her after the few failures. More important than Alec's career to Jillian were the personal milestones and achievements that made her daughter the woman she was today. She could never explain to the five year old who waited in the bay window why her mother left her there. She could never reach the fourteen year old who first began to hate her on a fateful summer trip to Sydney. She would never be able to calm the angry young woman who came to Los Angeles determined to prove she could make it without her mother or her name.

Jillian would never read Kellen. I bet she would never even open the cover.

~~~~

Windchase was quiet when I went downstairs hours later that evening. I stood on the bottom step and listened in the silence for a sound that would lead me to the others. I glanced around and my startled gaze came to rest on Alec and Jillian sitting together on the patio. I watched them for a few minutes, looking closely for signs they were talking. Could that possible? As I watched, Alec nodded and gestured with her hands. They were talking.

I debated about going to the kitchen for food or joining them. My curiosity made the decision easy. Jillian smiled as I walked out. I searched her face and found nothing to hint that I was interrupting another upsetting conversation between them.

"Victoria. Are you hungry?" They were eating dinner. I had skipped lunch and whatever they were eating smelled delicious.

"Very. Is there anymore of that?"

Alec pushed back her chair. "Have a seat. I'll get you a plate."

I tried to catch her eyes, but she turned away from me and quickly left the patio. I had spent the day reading about her childhood. Was it too much to think she might be uncomfortable with me? Few people ever get to do what I did that day. I would feel exposed if my whole life was suddenly a book for Alec to read.

"Where's my Dad?" I asked.

Jillian cast a glance to the inside of the house. "Still reading. I think he's in his office. He came out a little earlier for a plate."

Suddenly I was as uncomfortable with her as I imagined Alec was with me. I did not read only Alec's life. I knew about the worst moments in Jillian's. I knew about all those dark nights Alec buried her head under the pillow to block out her mother's screams. Alec had spared nothing from the few years she lived here.

"Do you like Alec's new paintings?" Jillian asked.

I jumped from her soft voice. I expected her to ask about the book, not the paintings. "Yes. I think they are a better use of her talent."

Jillian nodded absently. "Do you think they will sell as well? They're so different from what people have come to expect of the Chasen Originals."

"I don't think it matters anymore what she paints. Her name sells."

She turned troubled green eyes on me. "Yes, her name sells. Her book will be a bestseller because of her name."

I bit back the reply that sprang to my lips. I did not want Alec walking in on this conversation. Besides, I didn't care if she thought Kellen would be a bestseller only because Alec Chasen wrote it. Jillian has spent twenty-five years perfecting her ability to live in an illusion. I wasn't going to expect her to rejoin reality now.

Alec walked out with a plate and a glass of iced tea. She managed the amazing feat of placing both in front of me without meeting my eyes.

"Elane can handle the arrangements for us," she said to Jillian, continuing their conversation.

Jillian sat back in her chair and sighed. "When is the release date?"

"The next few days sometime. I am afraid I did not listen to that part very well. Regardless of the previous date, they want to capitalize on the publicity now."

"Patrick is going to be livid," Jillian almost whispered.

I choked as Alec placed her hand on her mother's. She ignored me. She leaned over and waited until Jillian looked at her. "His career is over. Let him have his anger."

"I don't want him to hurt you," Jillian stated, summing up all her fears into that one sentence.

Alec sat back in her chair. "There isn't anything he can do."

"You don't know-"

Alec stood up and shook her head. "We are not having this conversation again. Please trust me. There is nothing in my life he can take from me or hold over me."

She ran paint splattered fingers through her shaggy hair. Silver eyes scanned the horizon without stopping to stare at the distant point that so often riveted her attention. Perhaps the past, with all its pain, was finally slipping away. "Well, I'm going back up to paint."

I watched her leave the patio in surprise. Paint? Here? I looked to Jillian. "She's painting? She didn't leave today did she?"

I hated the thought that while I was reading, she had braved the world without me. I wanted to be by her side when she faced the press and answered whatever questions they shot at her. I wasn't on the edges of her life anymore. I refused to be pushed back to that place again.

"Elane came earlier. She thought Alec might be stir crazy so she brought some paints and easels for her. She is much calmer since Elane was here."

Leave it to Elane. She seemed to have a second sense about Alec, knew how to reach her when all I could do was watch in frustration. I always thought it was because reaching her best artist and keeping her calm were in Elane's best interests. Depression hit as I realized how easily I had missed the bond between them. I bought Elane's lines about money and Alec even as I knew money was never her goal in life. The lies fell so easily from her lips. The were the same lies Alec could have used to keep me, but refused to use if that was the only way I would stay.

"Where is she painting?"

"Her nursery. She said it had the best light."

I stared at her calm face and felt my world take a sickening tilt. Her nursery in September was the one Alec left behind at five. How in the hell did it become a room she could paint in now? Jillian saw something on my face or in my eyes that moved her to explain.

"While Rainer and I were on our honeymoon, I had the room made into a sunroom." Her smile was faint. "A nursery for a thirty year old is ridiculous, don't you think?"

I astonished myself by asking in a normal voice, "It's been the same all these years?"

Pain touched her eyes. "Yes. I guess I wanted something of hers in my life. Silly really because I could never go in there after...Anyway, I decided to have the room redone while we were gone."

I understood in an instant. Jillian had lived in this house for twenty-five years and never knew that Brian's blood was splattered over their daughter's bedroom. She must have believed Patrick took care of the room. He had taken care of everything else. How many times had she stood at the door with her hand on the knob, her fear the only thing that saved her from that final push into insanity? After being in that room without the memory of that night, I did not want to know what hell Jillian would have entered had she walked into the nursery.

She stood up. "I'm going to say goodnight to your Dad and Kellen and then I am going to bed. Goodnight Victoria."

She left the patio and I knew she did not realize she had called Alec by her given name.

A few minutes later, I stood outside the sunroom. The door was open and I leaned into the doorway, watching her. She was standing back from a blue streaked canvas, hand with paint brush under her chin. My eyes roamed the room. It was a very different room from the one I sneaked into months earlier. Jillian had decorated the room with overstuffed white and yellow striped couches and white wicker furniture. Lush green plants adorned every corner and table top. My eyes stopped at Jillian's Christmas present. The painting was hung over the spot where her bed had been. I did not think the placement was either coincidental or an accident. Drop cloths covered the floor where Alec painted and was placed nominally over the furniture. Jillian would not care if Alec repainted the room and all the furniture. Her daughter in this room again? Alec could do whatever she wanted.

"Either come in or go away," Alec said. She reached out with the paintbrush and quickly dotted white foam atop the blue streaks of waves.

"Jillian said this was your nursery," I said as I walked to her side. No one was going to know what I knew about this room.

Alec glanced around as if looking for the dollhouse and nursery books. "Yes. Big room for a little kid."

Some little kid. Her mother was nominated for an Oscar, her father was a brilliant director, her grandfather a United States Senator. There must be something to fate because that little kid grew up to be Alec Chasen. Born to be somebody, she fulfilled her destiny on her own without the Brent name or money.

I grew restless watching her paint minute flecks of white. "Is this how you spent the day?"

"Umm, yes. Well, I stayed on the beach until the helicopters appeared. I made all three networks. Alec Chasen runs into Windchase. Really fascinating footage, right?"

"Alec Chasen does anything is news right now," I replied. I found myself standing in front the other Chasen. Is this how Alec saw herself? A small child alone on the beach?

"This is all insane. Jill and I are going on a talk show tomorrow. Elane said the publishers want me to go on tour. I can't believe she's lived under this all this time."

"Who?"

Alec stepped back to eye the canvas critically. "Jill. Luckily, I am well-known for protecting my privacy. I do this tomorrow and that is it. It's going to harder to protect her because no one ever has."

I could not be hearing what I thought she was saying. She was concerned about Jillian? What miracle did I read through today anyway? Surely, I would have seen the lights flashing from the heavens and felt the earth shake.

"Are you going to paint all night?" Jillian came into the room and walked to the canvas.

Alec shot her a quick grin. "If I do, can I sleep through tomorrow?"

My jaw dropped as Alec slipped her arm around Jillian's waist and leaned into her to kiss her on the cheek. "Don't worry, I am going to bed soon. My concentration is shot."

Jillian slipped both arms around Alec to give her a brief, tight hug. I managed to close my mouth and replace my shocked expression with something more normal. Jillian came to me and patted my cheek. "Try not to keep her up too late."

I was rooted to the floor. This was too much for me to take in without warning. In one day, when nothing had really changed in Alec's life, she finds compassion and understanding? After one walk on the beach, she can see her mother's side? No. Nothing was that easy. Nothing this complicated became this easy after one day.

"Do me a favor? Start a shower for us. I'll be in when I get this cleaned up."

I had a choice to push her for answers to her abrupt change of heart or letting it go in the hope that some how I could figure everything out. I've been here before. I know asking for answers when she doesn't want to give them is an exercise in futility. I nodded, leaving her to cap paints and clean brushes. A hot shower with her is better than a cold shoulder any day.

~~~~

"Elane thinks Blair will do the show for me. She's always wanted to go national. Maybe this will help," Alec said when we were in bed. Her voice was tired. I knew she really did not want to deal with this anymore. In the scenario she had of writing her book, she simply wrote it and the world, with her mother and Patrick, went away. She was Alec Chasen mysterious painter and not Kellen Brent child abuse survivor.

Her head was on my shoulder and her body was draped over me. I held her tight, listening instead of asking questions. Maybe I would have heard more if I had tried doing that sooner.

"Patrick's having a press conference tomorrow, too." She paused and her soft voice was barely a whisper in my ear. "I think if I had stayed here, he would have done to me what he did to Brian."

I shook my head in denial of that statement. I kissed her forehead. "No honey, he would have tried. You are not Brian. You had something Brian never had."

She nodded. "Jill."

She sat up and stared down on me. The troubled light her in eyes reminded me so much of Jillian's eyes. Her mother's daughter. There was very little of her that belonged to Brian.

"I was always thought they sacrificed me for themselves, and I knew the Brent's did. But Jillian sacrificed herself for me. She used her life to shield mine. I never appreciated how difficult her life has been until today. I got a small dose of it and it wasn't pleasant. But tomorrow, they better ask all the questions they want because neither my mother nor I will ever again publicly answer questions about Brian or that night. I don't care who thinks we owe what to whom. Tomorrow, it's over."

The troubled look faded to be replaced by steel tempered resolution. That night would be over, she meant. That terrible Christmas Eve and all it's dark consequences would finally be over. The lost child was returned, the truth would be known, a murder case solved. Tomorrow that night which began over twenty-five years ago would finally come to an end.

I wanted it to be that easy for her, for Jillian, because after everything, they deserved for it to be over. I also knew that life is never that neatly packaged. Patrick and the media had the power to make this continue. Maybe not for Alec and Jillian personally, but publicly. Patrick could continue to wage his war of lies and doubt as long as someone within the media was willing to give him the forum.

Alec snuggled down in my arms. "G'night Tory. Love you."

I knew she did. I just wondered if Kellen Brent would love me, too.

13.

"The limo will be here in ten minute."

Ten minutes. Time may fly when you're having fun, but it vanishes when you are facing a nerve racking experience. Only ten more minutes before Jillian and Alec faced the media for the first time, if one did not count Alec's adventure with the helicopters, since the Christmas morning headline.

Elane closed her cell phone and walked over to me. "Are you all right? You look pale."

She arrived before the sun this morning. Breakfast was spent with Elane on the phone with Blair Collins agreeing on the terms of the interview. Jillian said very little as Alec okayed and nixed certain subjects for discussion. Rainer, Alec's paintings, and I were all off limits. Brian, that night, the Brent family were within bounds. The interview was over if Blair crossed the line. Blair was a friend of ours. I hope our trust in her was not misplaced. I was nervous, but it went without saying that all of us were on edge. We had bungee jumping butterflies in our stomachs.

She stepped behind me and massaged the tense muscles in my neck. "Don't worry, Vickie. Alec won't let Blair get away with anything. Polite is not one of Alec's strong points."

Don't worry? Someone needed to worry. Someone should worry about the consequences of this interview. Patrick's press conference was scheduled for noon in D.C. The Blair Collins Show began taping at nine. The two interviews would be given at the same time so neither side would know until it was over what the other was saying. Don't worry? Get real Elane.

I stood up when Rainer hurried into living room. "Are they still getting ready?"

Elane had arranged for a hairdresser to come to the house and one of Alec's suits was dry cleaned for the occasion. They were getting dressed in Jillian's suite. Elane patted his arm as she walked past him. "I'll go see how it's going."

Rainer walked to the bar and poured a shot glass full. He threw the drink back with one flick of his wrist. "I don't like this. I think we should wait to see what Patrick has to say before we do this."

I had thought of that myself, but was reluctant to suggest it. Alec, once her mind was made up over something, was not easily dissuaded from her purpose. I thought we should at least wait until after Patrick's conference so that we could respond to his statement. We knew he was going to deny Alec, we just didn't know how or how he would explain Jillian's acceptance of her. I really thought we would be better off knowing what he said before we said anything else.

"Have you mentioned that to Jillian or Alec?"

He shot me a dark glare. "Have you mentioned it to Alec? She's the one calling the shots here. Jillian will do whatever Alec wants."

Why he thought Alec would do what I wanted was beyond me. He knew before I did that she was writing a book. I don't know what he saw that made him think I had some kind of magic power, but he was wrong. I did not even know how she planned to respond to the interview, much less how she planned to respond to Patrick.

"Everyone does what Alec wants," I replied. Why should Jillian, and by default him, be any different? I wanted to add so get used to it, but I bit my tongue. He would learn that soon enough. Today was going to be hard enough without causing an argument over something undeniable.

Elane came to the doorway. "Ready? They're coming down now."

The three of us were waiting in the foyer, our eyes cast heavenward up the stairs. Expectation hung heavy in the air. A door opened. For one brief moment, my mind flashed to one of the pictures taken of them that Christmas Eve. The picture was taken at the stairs. Kellen stood on the bottom step to give her a few extra inches of height. Jillian was holding her hand. That was how I expected to see them, in crimson gowns and hair piled elegantly on their heads.

Jillian came down first in black slacks and a white shirt under dark teal blazer. Alec was close on her heels. Her silk tailored suit was navy and the handkerchief in the pocket was white. Her hair had been trimmed, but not enough to blunt the resemblance between them. Maybe Patrick could convince the world they weren't mother and daughter, but he would never make anyone believe they weren't related.

Alec stared at Rainer as she walked down the stairs. "May I speak to you for a minute, alone?"

Jillian's eyes widened and she paused on the stairs. Alec moved around her, patting her on the shoulder as if to silently reassure her.

"The limo will be here any minute," Elane cautioned.

Alec followed my Dad to the living room. She tossed back to Elane, "Feel free to leave without me."

Jillian anxiously watched Alec and Rainer talking close to the patio doors. She toyed with her wedding ring, her eyes never leaving their calm discussion. My father nodded and I blinked in surprise as they hugged. My father was actually smiling when they joined us in the foyer.

"Let's go," Elane. "Blair wants us there at least before the cameras start rolling."

A white limo with black tinted glass was waiting for us. Jillian and Alec sat facing Rainer, Elane, and me. We could hear the press at the gates yelling to us as we neared the gates. Alec reached for Jillian's hand and smiled at her as fists pounded on the windows and we inched through the throng to turn onto the highway.

"I want to make up Christmas to you," she said to her mother in a calm tone as voices shouted at us. "So Rainer and I thought we should have a party for New Year's Eve. We could fly to Moregrove and bring in the New Year with the whole family. A New Year's Eve family reunion. I know Cord-Grandmother would love it. So what do you say Mom? Want to have a party?"

My heart stopped in my chest. I stared at Alec and even as I knew she was staging this to get Jillian's mind off the reporters and the interview, I knew she meant it. The delighted surprise that came to Jillian's face when Alec mentioned New Year's at Moregrove House was replaced with a heartbreakingly expression of love when Alec called her Mom. Words failed her and tears shimmered in her green eyes. She swallowed, her fingers linking tighter with Alec's. She dragged her gaze away from Alec and looked at us, the rest of her family, with a trembling smile. "I can't think of anything I could possibly want more."

Alec grinned and winked at my Dad. "Great. Rainer can charter a plane for tomorrow. Elane can call Aunt Julia with the news. Mom can call Moregrove. All Tory and I have to do is show up."

The rest of the drive to Blair's Burbank studio was spent discussing the party. Alec and Elane envisioned a festive affair with lots of food and laughter. Jillian was silent, content to let the conversation happen around her, her eyes on Alec.

~~~~

Blair's studio was behind high, security controlled gates. The limo swept through the gates and came to a smooth stop in front a single door adorned with the words The Blair Collins Show. Rainer led us into the darkened studio. Bright stage lights were on over the simple set. A redhead dressed in white was talking to a camera man when we appeared in her line of vision. A bright smile broke over her face and she came over to us with her hands out.

"Alec, you are causing all sorts of trouble," Blair said with a grin. She was introduced to Rainer and Jillian before she hugged me and Elane hello. She turned to Alec. "My agent has been fielding calls from the networks. I think they are very angry that you picked some unknown for this interview."

Alec shrugged with a smile. "They should have noticed you before now, Blair."

Blair slipped her arm around Alec's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this? I've read the newspapers. The questions are going to be hard."

"I know. I think it will be easier to answer them coming from a friend."

Blair nodded and threw us all a bright smile. "Okay then. Let's take our places."

Every seat in the audience was filled. I recognized the people on the first few rows as press members. They were not allowed to bring in tape recorders so all had notepads on their laps. The three of us stood behind the cameras and watched as Blair settled Jillian and Alec in the guest chairs. Nervousness began to wound itself around me as I watched Jillian and Alec listen to her. Why were we doing this? Why did we care what Patrick told the press and who believed what from which side? Nothing would change for us regardless of what the rest of the world believed.

Within minutes, Blair was standing away from Jillian and Alec, facing the camera and waiting for the sign to begin. Three cameras were focused on the stage. I stepped to my Dad and took his hand in mine. God, please don't let this be a mistake.

Blair faced the camera with a serious expression. "Twenty-five years ago on Christmas Day, the world was shocked by the news that director Brian Brent and his five year old daughter, Kellen, were murdered in their Los Angeles estate. Two books have been written about their deaths and uncountable newspaper reports. Their deaths have remained unsolved all these years." She turned to Jillian and Alec. "My guests today are Jillian Young, Brian Brent's wife and the mother of his child, and painter Alec Chasen. If you've seen a newspaper or watched television over the last few days you know that Alec Chasen is claiming in her soon-to-be published autobiography that she is Kellen Brent."

"Miss Young is Alec Chasen your daughter?" Blair began the interview with the burning question.

The air was charged and everyone was leaning forward, waiting. It wasn't until the world saw and heard Jillian Young say the words herself that it became true. "Yes, Alec is my daughter, Kellen."

Blair paused as if letting her answer hang in the air. "Why should we believe you?"

Jillian smiled in understanding. "I think everyone is wondering that and my only reply is tell me what will convince you."

Blair turned to Alec. "If you are Kellen Brent, why are coming forward now? Why not when you were eighteen or twenty-one?"

Alec was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap. "Our family has been fragmented since my father's death. My mother remarried in September and for obvious reasons I was not there. I don't want to miss any more special events."

I began to breathe again. Jillian and Alec were calm and poised as they answered questions with just enough of the truth to hide the fact they were not telling everything. Alec reached for Jillian's hand and her voice never changed as she quietly told their spell-bound audience that Brian committed suicide that night. She declined to go into detail, instead explaining with a smile that Kellen explained everything. Blair's questions were gently asked and Alec replied with admirable control. Only someone who knew her and had already seen her relive that night once would recognize that she was back in that room, watching her father take her life in the same instant he took his own.

The interview was spent with Jillian and Alec answering questions that Blair asked. The audience, unlike Blair's usual shows, was not allowed to ask questions. They might ask something that was outside the agreed topics. Blair thanked them for coming, wished them luck for the future, and then the cameras went dark.

The three of us walked to the stage. Blair was talking with Jillian and Alec. We joined them just in time to hear Alec ask if Blair had a television somewhere. She wanted to see if Patrick's news conference was over. I was surprised she cared what he was saying.

"In my office," Blair said and led the way.

I don't know how we expected Patrick Brent to explain away Alec Chasen. I thought he would deny her like she thought he would. Politicians liked to keep their lies simple these days. Alec flipped the channel to CNN. We did not have to wait long because Patrick's speech was the breaking story of the hour. He was tall and handsome, his face somber, and his gray eyes sad as they stared out at the cameras.

"Alec Chasen is not my granddaughter," He began with just a hint of anger in his tone. He went on to reveal how Jillian was "never well again" after the deaths of Brian and Kellen. She saw every blonde child as Kellen. Alec Chasen was not the first woman to try to convince Jillian that she was Kellen. He accused Rainer and I of using our relationships with Jillian and Alec to foster this belief in Jillian. He insinuated that Alec was doing this as a publicity stunt to revive her career as a has-been painter.

He stared out at us, his voice deeper in anger as issued Alec a direct challenge. "Ms. Chasen if you are Kellen Brent prove it independently of my daughter-in-law."

Jillian was livid. "I cannot believe he did this! It's slander."

Alec clicked the television off and faced us with remarkable calm. I was surprised that she was not furious. I searched her face for signs that she was covering up her anger, searched the silver depths of her eyes for the rage the rest of us felt. Her gaze slid over us before she smiled. "I can prove I am Kellen Brent. Do you really think I would have done this if I couldn't?"

"I know. I also know you will be standing by this side when he does."

I stared at Alec, her reply to Jillian's assertion that Patrick would deny her claims echoing in my head. She never expected to have Jillian on her side. She never thought any member of her family would stand up for her. She fully expected to face the publicity on her own and with her family lined up solidly against her. Of course she wasn't angry. She expected to have to prove to the world on her own that she was Kellen Brent. She wasn't angry because she was waiting for Patrick to demand proof.

Jillian asked, curiously, "How?"

Alec's smile was amused. She looped her arm with Jillian's and led her out of Blair's office. "Because I am Kellen Brent."

Jillian stopped her and turned to face her. "How can you prove, without me, that you are Kellen?"

Alec glanced back at us, saw the same question on our faces and sighed. "I am going to call Patrick's bluff. I am willing to take a DNA test. Providing that you and Brian really did only have one child, DNA tests will show that I am that child. Patrick's not going to want Brian's body exhumed or my empty grave opened. He can make any challenge he wants because whatever Kellen Brent should know, I know. I am Kellen Brent. This is not a role I am playing."

And with that, she signaled the discussion was over by turning on her heel and walking a brisk line to the door. We followed her from the studio.

~~~~

The limo was still on the studio lot when Jillian turned angrily to Alec. "You never needed me. Why was I even here?"

Anger radiated from her like heat from a forest fire. Her eyes were a glittering emerald green. By contrast, Alec was calm and poised. She could not have expected her mother to be angry, but neither did she seem surprised.

She faced Jillian. She said simply, "Because we both wanted you to be with me."

"But you did not need me," Jillian persisted. She wasn't going to be swayed by loving words regardless of how heartfelt they were. "You really thought I would be with Patrick today didn't you?"

The dead silence in the limo was deafening as we waited for Alec to say the damning words. They stared at each other, looking into the other's eyes. Jillian searched the gray depths for anything to hint that her daughter had ever believed in her. Alec sought assurances that she was not about to lose the mother she had only just found. I tensed as her face became a mask of stone. She did not find what she was looking for in her mother's gaze.

Her chin lifted a fraction as she said, "Yes."

Jillian did not flinch. She knew, we all knew Alec was going to agree with her. She shut her eyes briefly before turning her head to stare out the window.

Yes, I believed you would betrayed me. Yes, I believed you would deny me as you have done most of my life. Yes, I did not believe you loved me.

Emotions chased each other across Alec's face. Shame, hurt, sadness. She opened her mouth, but closed it again when she found no words to comfort her mother. She reached out, but stopped a mere inch away from touching Jillian's arm.

"I'm sorry, I just never knew…" She said softly, her voice uncertain.

Jillian turned to her sharply. "Knew what? I thought you knew everything."

Alec shook her head, her eyes never leaving her mother's face. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "No, not everything. I never knew that Kellen meant everything to you."

The words were spoken so softly, laden with childish hurt and confusion. Alec Chasen was a woman who, on the surface, seemed to have it all. But under that accomplished, successful, and beautiful surface existed a hurt child who never understood. She did not know why she was left alone in England or why her mother never visited or why she told the world her daughter was dead. They did not want Kellen to remember Brian or that night so she was never told anything and in the absence of knowledge, she came to the only conclusion that made sense. Her mother did not, could not love her because if she did she never would have left her.

Jillian cupped Alec's face in both hands and said very deliberately, "You mean everything to me. You asked me before the wedding why being your mother meant nothing to me. It means everything. It always meant everything. If it meant that you never remembered anything about Brian, I would have let you hate me until I died. And I would died happy with that decision."

Alec nodded. She understood. She did not agree, she thought her mother had other, better choices, but she finally understood. She did not have to agree with her mother's choice to agree with Jillian's right to make her own decisions.

"I know," Alec said. "I know it now."

Jillian nodded and sat back, her hands slowly fell from Alec's face. She turned to my father. "I want to leave tonight. I don't want to deal with Patrick anymore."

Rainer nodded and reached for the cell phone. I smiled at Alec. Before the day ended, we would be in England and far away from this madness.

~~~~

If it was possible, more reporters were at the gate now than when we left for the show. The limo was forced to a stop as the guards attempted to clear a path. We crept through the throng, silent as fists slammed against the black windows. Is this how our lives would be from now on? My step-mother was Jillian Young. My lover was Kellen Brent. I realized for the first time that my life had changed with theirs.

"My God, is this how it was then?" Alec exploded in exasperation. "Is this how you've lived?"

Jillian blinked in surprise at Alec's anger. She nodded. "Yes, when I'm recognized."

Alec shook her head, eyes narrowed in rage. "And Patrick, has he ever tried to help you?"

"Well, no, not really. He…" She trailed off as Alec sat forward.

"Stop," she commanded the driver. Rainer and Jillian both reached for her in alarm as she turned to the door. She brushed their hands away and opened the door. Where before there was a cacophony of voices, there was complete silence as the door swung open. Rainer hurried to follow her from the limo.

"I have a statement to make to my grandfather," she said in a clear, loud voice. The reporters stared at her in identical expressions of astonishment. I could hear what they were thinking. Limos with famous people never stopped and never, ever did that person exit the limo to make a statement. Was this a diversion or a joke?

Alec turned impatiently to the nearest reporter. She did not see Elane, Jillian, and I slip from the limo. She took the microphone from the young woman's hand and faced the wall of cameras that appeared behind her.

Dark gray eyes burned with hatred as she stared into the camera. "Patrick, you have twenty-four hours to retract every lie you've told. If you haven't by noon tomorrow, I will petition the courts to exhume my father's body for purposes of DNA testing. You think I want something from your family? Well, you are right. I want my name off that empty grave next to your son's. I am Kellen Brent. I am not dead. Now what are you going to do?"

With that, she tossed the microphone to the reporter and stalked back to the limo. She frowned at us and waved us inside. Our driver took advantage of the reporters shock to gun the limo inside the gates. We were inside the gates without another hand being laid on the limo.

"Do you think that was smart?" My father demanded of Alec.

Alec shrugged and her face was turned to the window. "I don't care. I want the press on his doorstep for the next twenty-four hours. I want him to be a prisoner in his own home as the media begins the count down to noon tomorrow. I don't want him to even be able to peek out his window without a flash bulb popping in his face. For this small instant in time, I want him to know the hell of being related to Brian Brent."

She turned to face us with a small, private smile. "Or maybe just the hell of being related to me."

14.

I thought we would never get a minute alone. Lunch was waiting for us and although I wasn't hungry, I sat with the family on the patio. Alec excused herself to make a phone call. The conversation, which Rainer kept determinedly on the trip to England, flowed around me. I watched the patio doors, waiting for Alec. I wished that we were upstairs in bed, blotting out everything but being together.

By the time Alec rejoined us, Elane had left to "do things and call people". One of the people she needed to call was her mother. Julia Rasche lived in near Malibu. She had five hours to be packed and at LAX for our chartered flight to England. I did not doubt that she would be there. The Chasen family has not been in the same room since 1968.

Alec did not pretend on interest in either the food or the conversation. She sat with her face to the ocean, her bleak thoughts reflected in the dark, unblinking gray eyes. She wanted to be in Aubres. She wanted to be on her deck with decisions no more demanding than whether or not to paint and whether it should be a Chasen Original or one of the new ones. She wanted the simple, uncomplicated charade of being Alec Chasen. She had choices then, over everything in her life. Now, she was only reacting to the decisions made by others.

"Can we all be ready by seven?" Rainer asked.

I watched Alec, waiting for her to come back to us and answer. I would let her answer for both of us so that she could make a decision in a life careening out of her control. She did not look at us as she said, "Sure, seven is fine."

I jumped as she reached for my hand. "We're going to pack."

Her hand was warm in mine as I trailed behind her. They watched us leave the patio and even if someone had wanted to stop us, I don't think anyone would have dared. This woman was cold and silent and very close to reaching her breaking point. I knew it, I hoped they knew it, too. Too much had happened, too soon and without warning.

She opened the door to our bedroom and pulled me into the room behind her. Before I could take two steps, she turned and pushed me against the door. She shoved her leg between mine, pinning me so I could not move. Soft lips touched mine and gentle hands slowly pulled my shirt from my slacks. She moved away from me.

"I so wanted Christmas to be special," she whispered, staring down to watch her hands unbutton my shirt. "I thought, just this once, I can know how Christmas is supposed to be."

My shirt fell off my shoulders under her tender caress. She slid her hands to my back and soon my bra and shirt lay in a silken puddle at my feet. Her feather light touch slid over my shoulders, down my arms to link with my hands.

She looked into my eyes. "I cannot give you the Christmas you deserved, or even the best that I could do, but I can give you one that you will never forget,"

She turned so that I could see the bed in the soft bedside light. Presents, some I recognized as mine to her covered the bed. She released my hand to select a slim, oblong red and gold wrapped present. She walked around the bed and placed the gift on the night stand. "I want you to open this one last."

I stood next to the bed, stunned by the turn of events, and watched her move around the bedroom. She had borrowed a CD player from somewhere. She pressed a button and soon Bing Crosby was singing "White Christmas." She lit a candle and the aroma of apples and cinnamon began to fill the room. She came back to me.

"I love you," she said and brought her hands to my face. The kiss lasted forever. All thoughts ceased, there was only the feeling of Alec next to me, being with me as if she read my mind on the patio.

"I love you," I whispered when I could breath again. I stared into her eyes, mesmerized. She could have led me anywhere and I would have followed, done anything and I would have agreed without protest. She loved me, she was with me and I did not give a damn about the rest of the world beyond our bedroom door.

"Come," she said and took my hand. "Let's do Christmas."

And we did Christmas. Presents were unwrapped and delight was expressed between kisses that became longer, slower, deeper. Alec gave me a hunter green herring bone knit sweater "for Aubres." I instantly imagined us in our sweaters on her deck some cold January morning, preferably this January.

"What about that one?" I asked when the only present left was the one on the night stand.

She grinned. She glanced over the floor strewn with presents, wrapping paper, bows, and our clothes. "You want more?"

She pulled me down on top of her. Her hands slid down my back to grab my butt. She opened her legs and pressed me tight against her. Silver eyes stared up at me in a warm gaze of love. "Marry me, Tory. I want you in the rest of life. You can open that box if you marry me."

My heart stopped. I looked down on this woman I have loved for an eternity. Life without her had been an existence bereft of love and laughter. Having the life you have always wanted and had come to believe you can never have suddenly laid in your hands is the same as dying. The body ceases to function and time becomes irrelevant. I don't know how long I simply stared down at her, waiting for consciousness to end. I knew my life was over because it is not possible to be given the one thing you wanted most in the world and then be allowed to live.

"Tory?" She whispered, uncertainty in her voice. Did she really think I would say no? Was it possible that she really did not understand how much she meant to me? How stupid was I that Alec Chasen, beautiful and talented Alec Chasen, did not know that she meant more to me than anyone or anything else in the world?

Without a word, I reached for the box. We traded places and I unwrapped this last gift with her laying between my legs, silver eyes taking in my every move. The box was the kind used for bracelets and was identical to the one I was given for her anklet. I opened the box and gasped. I expected a bracelet or an anklet and was staring instead at a single band of gold imbedded with sapphires. Her ring. She was giving me the match to her ring.

I looked up at her, feeling the tears slid down the side of my face. "How did you know?"

She reached for the ring. "I know you. You wanted to do this last time so I knew when you gave me my ring that somewhere in this town was it's twin. I went to a million stores before I found it."

As she spoke she was sliding the ring on the third finger of my left hand. She took the box from my fingers and tossed it to the floor with the rest of the gifts. Gentle fingers wiped away my tears. I pulled her down to me. I wanted her. More than I needed to breath I needed her on me and in me.

It was three days late, it had little of the festive activity I associate with Christmas, it was in a bedroom that wasn't even in my house or hers, but it was without a doubt the best Christmas I have ever had. She only wanted it to be unforgettable. Instead, it was absolutely perfect. Beginning next year, Christmas for me would always be December twenty-eighth.

~~~~

Rainer chartered a Lear jet for the flight. Another limo, this one black with black windows, was waiting to drive us to the airport. Alec and I were upstairs for hours. I reluctantly dragged myself from the bed when Alec promised that we would continue our celebration at Moregrove House. I was surprised to find myself embarrassed with Rainer and Jillian. They could not know what happened in our room unless they had their ears pressed to the door. I really could not see either of them doing that even if they had been curious to what we were doing.

We both wore blue jeans and white T-shirts. We carried our new sweaters and jackets in anticipation for the British weather that awaited us. Rainer and Jillian had dressed casually in slacks and matching red knit shirts. They also carried jackets. I was glad that the reporters could not see us from the road. We at least had the hope of getting out town before anyone knew we were leaving. And of possibly arriving in England without a horde of cameras waiting for us.

Elane and Julia were already on the plane when we arrived. Jillian and Julia walked into each other's arms. I've met Julia many times over the years, but now as they hugged, I searched for a resemblance between the two women. Maybe if Julia wasn't taller and more athletic than her younger, feminine sister, maybe if her hair was ash instead of honey blonde, and maybe if her eyes were green instead of clear blue I might have noticed a resemblance between Julia and Alec. There wasn't a startling resemblance between Jillian and Julia so the few times Alec and I joined Elane at her mother's house for dinner, I never wondered about any resemblance between Julia and Alec.

Julia stepped back and took her sister's face in her hands. "You look great, Jill. Absolutely wonderful."

Jillian grinned and her glance swept the faces around her. "I can't believe this is happening."

Rainer came from the front of the place and urged us to our seats. Engines roared to life as we strapped ourselves down. I shared Jillian's sentiment. I couldn't believe this was happening. This year was ending in a way I would have called Science Fiction even two months ago. This family, my family, was going to ring in the New Year together. Even now, as we jetted down the runway, Moregrove House was being prepared for a celebration the likes of which had never been held in it's hallowed existence.

I sat back to enjoy the feeling of relaxation I saw mirrored on the faces around me. The world we were soaring above would be waiting when we came back in a few days, but for now, that world was gone. Once the plane was level, Rainer brought out two bottles of chilled Dom Perignon. Jillian handed out champagne glasses made of real glass. Rainer poured our glasses full.

"To us," he said simply over our raised glasses.

"To us," we chorused together, clinked glasses. Alec and I held each other's gazes before we joined the others in drinking to Rainer's toast.

I found myself sitting next to Alec with her head on my shoulder. She yawned and whispered to me, "I'm exhausted. You were...enthusiastic this afternoon."

She had taken my left hand in hers. I stared at the ring on my finger. "I had a reason to be don't you think?"

I felt her smile. "Yes, you did."

She snuggled next to me and I soon felt the slow even breathing that meant she was asleep. I rested my head against hers to watch the others. Jillian and Julia had gone to the Captain's chairs near the end of the plane to talk quietly to each other. I idly wondered if some time over the past years they had managed to meet clandestinely. It would have been easy for Julia to drive to Windchase. Alec had slipped in and out easily enough.

My sleepy gaze turned to the odd pairing of Rainer and Elane. They knew each other, but neither had particularly liked the other. Dad thought Elane supported herself through a barely legal form of fraud. Elane thought he was too right-wing to be related to me. It would be interesting to see how their impressions would change now that he was "Uncle" Rainer and she was a member of his family.

Family. Funny the things we forgive and overlook and excuse if someone is family.

~~~~

Alec slept through the entire flight. Hunger forced me awake and away from her several hours into the flight. Someone had thoughtfully thrown a blanket over us. I eased Alec to her side and tucked the blanket around her. Jillian directed me to the galley for a chicken salad sandwich. I found a stash of Lay's Potato Chips and a cold can of Coke. I took my lunch back to the cabin and sat down next to Elane. She was reading Kellen.

"Do me a favor?" I asked her.

She took her time looking up. She arched one eyebrow in silent question.

"Don't read that in front of Alec."

She glanced over at her cousin. I followed her gaze. Alec had turned over on her stomach and was sleeping with her head on her folded hands. Even after everything, she looked like a child as she slept. She nodded. "Sure. I'll drop it the second she wakes up."

She used her finger to mark her place and closed the book. Her eyes were still on Alec as she asked softly, "When did you two exchange rings?"

My brain went blank. "I didn't think anyone would notice."

She tossed me a wicked grin. She nodded towards Jillian and Julia. "Aunt Jill noticed at Windchase apparently. She took my aside and asked if I knew anything about it. I didn't notice until she told me. Everyone knows now. Warning: she's furious about it. You've lost major points over this. In the future please remember to invite the mother of the bride to the wedding."

I closed my eyes in the very vain hope that this embarrassing moment could, please God, and never have happened. I had been so wrapped up in the deliciousness of the moment that I did not think about anything else. Of course Jillian was furious. Here was a mother who had missed every event, significant or not, in her daughter's life since she was five and now, when she had every right to think she would never miss anything else, she had missed this. We were lucky Jillian did not cause a scene the second she noticed the matching rings.

"Maybe I should apologize," I said hesitantly. And what kind of apology could I give? I doubt Miss Manners had this certain gaffe in her book.

Elane grinned and shook her head. Damn her for enjoying my uncertainty. "Not good enough. I suggest that you grovel at her feet and promise to allow her to plan the ceremony of her dreams. Anything less than that and I wouldn't turn my back on her."

I glanced over at Alec. She wasn't going to like that. But then I really didn't like the thought of being out of Jillian's favor. She was Alec's mother and she was right to think they should have been included in some way. My father had the right to the same expectation of me. Somehow being gay did not exclude us from the same expectations of other parents.

"Say a prayer for me," I said and stood up.

Elane laughed. "Sure."

The walk from where Elane was sitting to where Jillian sat in her Captain's chair had the same distance as the walk from death row to the electric chair. Jillian sipped her drink and watched me approach over the rim of her glass. She looked very much like Alec when she was annoyed. Julia excused herself and patted me on the shoulder as she passed. I really didn't need that added touch of drama. I knew this was going to be bad.

I sat down across from her and met her gaze squarely. Was I really so wrapped up in Alec when we left that I missed the frost in my step-mother's green eyes? Apparently. Furious probably did not begin to cover the anger she felt when she realized Alec and I were wearing matching rings.

My smile felt weak. I went for broke. "You're angry and you have every right to be. And I'm sorry. Would you forgive me if you could plan a ceremony? It would be whatever you wanted. I promise you can plan it however you want it."

She was silent for several heartbeats. Icy green eyes stared at me unforgivably. Her gaze slid over the face of her sleeping daughter. "I won't miss anymore of her life, Victoria. Promise me that. Promise me that next time and every time after that I will always be there for the special times in her life."

I reached for her hand. I looked into her eyes. "I promise."

She sat back in her chair. She drained her champagne glass. "I want the ceremony, too. Your Dad was looking forward to walking you down the aisle."

I blushed. I protested, "But it's not like a real wedding ceremony."

The green eyes hardened for an instant. "This one is."

I nodded meekly and went back to sit next to Elane. I watched Alec sleep and wondered how on earth I was going to explain to her that very soon we were going to be "married" in a ceremony her mother planned. Maybe I should just let Jillian explain it to her. It was time Jillian asserted her maternal presence in Alec's life on her own. And time Alec faced the righteous anger of her mother.

~~~~

Our arrival at the Exeter Airport went unnoticed. Another limo was waiting for us. We slipped on sweaters and jackets and wondered why none us of brought a real coat. We were here in England, a country that wasn't exactly teeming in the middle of summer, in the dead of winter. Alec at least should have known better.

Kellen had several pictures of Moregrove House and I felt that I was prepared for the Chasen family homestead. Perhaps in daylight, the English countryside estate would not have seemed so majestic. However, in a darkness broken only by distant star light, the sudden light from the many rooms of the estate made Moregrove House seem a massive, isolated fortress. The perfect place to hide Kellen Brent.

A wide cobble stone drive led a meandering path to the front door. By the time we piled out of the limo, the heavy wooden door had opened. I was anxious to meet Cordelia Chasen. I knew she would be an exceptional woman, as were her daughter's and granddaughter's. She was tall with blue eyes like Julia, but I thought her silver hair was once the same ash blonde as Jillian's.

She stood by the door and each person received a hug before being allowed into the inviting warmth of the house. I was awkward. Was I Alec's lover and therefore really nothing to her? Or was a grandchild-in-law via her daughter? I returned her welcoming hug briefly and fled into the house.

The foyer was large and done in dark paneled wood. A grand staircase spiraled to the second floor. Heavy Oriental rugs covered stone floors. I gave my jacket to a young man and followed the crowd to the library. Alec and Elane warmed their hands by a crackling fire. I stood in the doorway. Every wall in the room was covered in books. The furniture was dark, heavy wood except for several couches made of black leather.

"Anyone want a drink?" Rainer asked.

Cordelia entered the library. She crossed the room and slipped her arm around Alec's waist. "Honey, Celeste Brent called a few hours ago."

Every eye in the room was on her. Alec visibly steeled herself for more bad news. I felt a shaft of anger at Cordelia. Why do this? Alec really did not need to know that Celeste Brent had called. She could call every day twice a day if she liked and there was no reason for Alec to ever know about the calls.

"Patrick suffered a stroke yesterday. He is in ICU. The family released a statement to CNN saying that you are Kellen Brent. Celeste wants you to call. She left a number that she can be reached at any time."

Alec stared around the library blankly. "Then...I guess...I'd better call."

Rainer crossed the room shaking his head. "Let me call her."

"No, but thank you. Someone turn on the TV. Let's see what's happening."

My Dad stared at her in helpless frustration. If only she let him, he would take over and handle all of this for her. Alec was tired of people taking over and handling things for her.

Cordelia pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. Alec took the number and walked to the phone. Jillian left the couch and went to Alec's side. She put her arm around Alec's shoulders.

"Yes, this is...Kellen Brent. May I speak to my grandmother please?'

Alec's gaze was fixed on a row of books. Her empty tone was one I knew well. She was the ultra cool and poised Alec Chasen.

"Good morning. I'm David Daly. The story we are following this morning is the stroke suffered late yesterday evening by Senator Patrick Brent, the senior Senator from California. Jeanne Gless is standing by at Walter Reed. Good morning Jeanne, what is the latest word on his condition?"

A slim brunette blinked in the camera spotlight. "Good morning David. Senator Brent's condition is officially listed as stable, but a spokesmen for the Brent family told me the Senator has not regained consciousness. Family members have been arriving through out the night to wait out this vigil with Mrs. Brent."

"Where is Kellen Brent? Does anyone know?" The unseen David asked.

The woman reporter shook her head. "She's not here, that much we do know. There is a rumor that she left the country. We've told that Celeste Brent has been in touch with her granddaughter, but we were given no details on the call."

"Jeanne has…"

"Hello Celeste. How are you doing?" Alec asked. I did not blame her for not asking about her grandfather. Patrick stopped being her grandfather the day he stood in front of the media and said his only grandchild was dead.

Alec nodded and reached up to rub her eyes with one hand. "Yes, of course. I'll be on the first flight out....Oh, okay. That's nice of him....Okay...Yes, okay...I'll see you soon."

She stood with the phone in one hand and she pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. "The U.S. Ambassador has arranged transportation for me back to the states. They've sent a car."

She looked across the room at me. "I probably won't be here New Year's Eve."

"I'm going back with you," Jillian said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Alec shook her head anyway. She walked away from her mother. "No. This is the Brent family and you are no longer a member of that family."

"Alec-"

Alec spun on her heel. Gray eyes were narrowed in anger. "I was never able to protect you. I can now and I will whether you like it or not. You are not a Brent. You do not have to deal with that family anymore."

Jillian's anger matched Alec's. "As long as you are my daughter, I will always have to deal with the Brent family."

Alec shot Rainer a dark glare. "Not if you're husband is any kind of man you won't."

With that, she left the library. Cordelia went to her daughter's side. Jillian was stung by Alec's blunt refusal. Cordelia guided her back to the couch. I stalked from the library ready to snap Alec back to a reality. I found her in the foyer sorting through the luggage.

"Was that necessary?"

Alec did not turn to me. "You do realize that she is my mother not yours, right?"

"I'm surprised that you know it," I snapped.

She stood slowly and faced me. "It's that reason exactly that I do not want her involved. I do not want to see my mother's face in every news report or splashed across the paper. Do you understand? I do not want my mother victimized by the press or by that family for even one more second. She is not Brian Brent's wife. I am not a child hiding behind my mother's skirt. And I do not give a damn whether or not you, your father, or anyone else agrees with me. In case you haven't noticed, I am not asking for opinions."

She seemed to notice for the first time that her rising voice had brought every one from the library. Her open, pleading gaze stopped at her mother's pale face. "I don't want you there. Please do this for me. Don't make me have to watch my mother be hurt again."

Jillian walked to face her. She put one hand on Alec's shoulder and used her other hand to brush blonde bangs away from Alec's desperate eyes. "You need a haircut. You should get one."

"I will."

"And you'll call if you need anything?"

Alec glanced behind her to Rainer. "I promise."

Jillian slipped her arms around her to hold her tight. "And I want to talk to you every night."

"Every night," Alec agreed with an indulgent smile.

Jillian stepped away from her. "You should eat before the car gets here. Who knows when you'll get another chance before you get back to the states."

~~~~

Cordelia, a gracious English hostess, had a delicious dinner waiting for us. The seven of us sat down to roast in gravy with potatoes and carrots. Alec's delight tipped us off to the fact that this was one of her favorites. We enjoyed our first meal as a family under flickering candle light. I have to admit it did add a certain air of intimacy.

I did not want Alec to go back to the states. I wanted her here with us, protected from the unrelenting publicity and glaring spotlight of the world. We came here for that. I hated Patrick Brent. I hated him for using his tiny granddaughter as the sacrificial lamb for his son's salvation. I hated him for daring to think Alec would come back into the Brent family on his terms. But most of all, I hated him for pulling Alec back into that family at the exact moment she was surrounded by her real family. This stroke was a golden opportunity for him. There was nothing else that would have taken Alec away from us and brought her to him.

The car from the embassy, a gray Jaguar with diplomatic plates, arrived while we were drinking coffee in the library. Any hope I harbored of being alone with Alec died an instant death. The next few minutes passed in a flurry of activity. Alec was handed from family member to family to be hugged and reassured with whispered words. She buried her head in each embrace as if seeking the strength from us to face the trying days that lay ahead of her.

I watched her with my Dad. I could not help but notice the fatherly bond that had developed between them over the few days since their first meeting on Christmas morning. He was very protective over her and it showed in his frustration at being relegated to the sidelines. He wanted to stand in front of her, to take on the world for her as no man had ever done for this fragile blonde child. He would have loved her for me; her cherished for Jillian.

"I mean it," he said in a voice I remembered from my teenage years. I grinned. Alec better believe he meant exactly whatever he told her.

She nodded and leaned up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Just take care of my Mom and Tory."

My goodbye was saved for last. Alec took my hand and led me outside. Jillian stayed inside paying whatever price to lose these last few seconds with Alec that allowed me this time alone with her. She lost herself in my arms and I held her tight. I wanted my hug to convey all the words that failed me. It hurt so much to hold her and know that very soon she would be far away from me.

"Promise me something," she whispered.

I replied softly, "Anything."

She stepped back to meet my eyes. "Promise that you will sleep in my room. I need that image. Okay?"

I smiled at her. "Your Grandmother will have to drag me from the room personally."

The chauffeur appeared behind her and opened the rear passenger door. Alec quickly stepped to me and gave me a quick, hard kiss. Then, with an abruptness I understood, she slipped into the car. The windows were tinted and I could not see her face, but I waved anyway knowing that she was watching me. I stood in the cold darkness and watched until I could no longer see the red taillights from the Jag.

15.

Alec's departure signaled the beginning of our own vigil, this one around the television. CNN was the only channel we watched. The others came and went, but Jillian and I stayed in the library. We did not want to miss a single glimpse of Alec.

The U.S. Ambassador worked the miracle of getting Alec out of the country without a single camera recording the event. I was glad that she was given those few last moments of anonymity, but over the next few days the few glimpses we had of her were like manna from heaven. As much as I hated her privacy striped away, I needed that small reassurance that she was alive and well.

Her arrival into Dulles was everything her discreet departure of England was not. Camera crews relentlessly recorded the small Brent contingent that waited for her in a cordoned area away from the unloading area. Alec, the voice over called her "Kellen Brent", was the first person off the plane. She was escorted by intense young men in blue jeans and bomber jackets. I thought them to be aides of Patrick's. Jillian sat forward and touched the young men surrounding her daughter.

"These are Patrick's great-nephews," she said. "This is Brent Kenderson. He works in Patrick's office."

Next, her finger grazed a face I was surprised to recognize. "This is Brian Kenderson."

"The actor," I finished for her. He was on the supporting actor tier of stardom.

Jillian nodded. "Emily was pregnant with him when Brian died."

She touched the third man. "Daniel Brent. He works for the Brent company."

I cringed at the crush of reporters that surged forward. Her muscular young escorts formed a protective barrier around her. Uniformed police officers appeared around the family and with lights flashing and questions bouncing harmless of them, they quickly disappeared into the back of a black limo. Cameras were waiting when the limo pulled into the hospital. Alec looked grim and tired as she was whisked into the hospital.

Over the next hours, the few visible shots of Alec were woven and replayed during the updates on Patrick's unchanging condition. Jillian quietly filled me in on the "Brent family" that had gathered around their fallen leader. While Brian was Patrick's only child, his brother had a son and his sister had a son and two daughters. His mother was dead and his ninety-seven year old father was not being told of his son's critical condition. Alec was the only girl in the third generation. The other boy, Paul Brent III, also worked for the Brent company. Jillian confirmed my suspicion that the younger Brent generation was never told Kellen was alive.

"She looks drained," Jillian said, her voice traced in anguish.

We were watching Alec, Celeste leaning heavily against her, leave the hospital later that night. She seemed oblivious to the cameras. She paused as her Aunt, Erin Jillian said, laid a hand on her shoulder. They conferred quietly as the cameras rolled and for the first time in what seemed like days, we got our first prolonged view of Alec. She was still wearing the blue jeans and sweater she left England in so many hours earlier.

Dark eyes flashed across the screen as Alec turned to talk to her grandmother. The camera had zoomed in on her face. She spoke gently to the strikingly regal woman. Celeste nodded and Alec accepted her Aunt's brief hug. They family separated into the row of identical, black limos. The camera followed Alec and Celeste to the first limo. Alec helped her grandmother inside before she disappeared behind the black tinted windows.

Slowly, as Patrick held his own, the focus of the news reports became a parallel story between the death watch the family was holding and the stunning revelation that Alec Chasen was in fact Kellen Brent. Soon, we were watching black and white telecasts of that Christmas morning. Jillian seemed impossibly young in the grimy photos, and very much like Alec today. A younger, vibrant and obviously grief-stricken Patrick Brent quickly took center stage. Celeste Brent was seen only as a figure standing stoically behind her husband.

Jillian was silent as the worst time in her life was once again splashed across the television screen. There she was returning from England. Dark glasses hid both her bloodshot eyes and the bruises inflicted on her that night by her husband. There she was at his grave side, dressed all in black to play the role of the grieving widow. Then came the picture that became the one enduring image of her and that day. Cameras caught her taking a white rose from the top of his casket as a tear drop rolled down her face.

"Patrick told me to do that. He knew how to set a scene," Jillian remarked bitterly. She didn't add, and I didn't want to know if it was true, that the rose she took from her husband's burial wreath was supposedly buried two days later with their daughter.

We reluctantly went to bed when there was nothing new left to report. I was growing tired of seeing the same shots of Alec and hearing her called "Kellen" by every reporter. Her name was Alec. Our last shot of Alec was her vanishing into the black limo.

~~~~

Jillian showed me to an upstairs bedroom. She spent a few minutes pointing out the connecting bathroom and thermostat control before leaving me to join her husband down the hall. Someone had brought my luggage to the room. After taking a shower, I prowled around the bedroom where Kellen Brent grew up to be Alec Chasen.

The room was smaller than her nursery at Windchase. Her bed was tucked under an alcove and covered with a blue and white checked down filled quilt. Both walls of the alcove were bookshelves stuffed with paperbacks. A bay window was filled with star light. The rest of the small room was occupied with a double door armoire and a wooden desk with straight backed matching chair. This house was huge and I was sure had bathrooms larger than this room. I stared around the room, my gaze taking in the dark paneling and blue and white throw rug covering the hardwood floor, wondering why Alec was given this room. My eyes fell on the window. I knew we were on the coast. I knew even though I could not see it in the night that this window looked out over the water. Alec could not live without an ocean view.

Sleep was elusive. I sat at the bay window, allowing the dark and silence of the house to close around me. I should have been exhausted and my body was, but my brain was in high activity mode. Alec had not called as she had promised, but it really wasn't "tomorrow" yet and she did have many other demands on her attention.

I wondered for the first if I should have gone with her. Maybe if she had not been so adamant about Jillian staying I might had asked her if she wanted me to go. She seemed so determined to do this on her own that it just didn't occur to me that maybe she would have appreciated having me tag along. My place was by her side now, wasn't it? Isn't that what the rings meant, that we would be together through the good and the bad?

I smiled at my reflection. Alec wasn't conventional. I was in same precarious position here that I was in at Thanksgiving. I could go to her, I could have my hopes high, but I would not know if being there was a good idea until I was face to face with her. I remembered my Thanksgiving reception all too well. I was not anxious for a repeat performance. Especially when Alec was surrounded by family members who may not know she was a lesbian. The last thing I wanted, for anyone in the Brent family, was to cause a problem of any kind. It wasn't just Alec who did not need the distraction right now.

I felt sleep come near and I gladly handed myself over to the restful oblivion. The questions and doubts could wait until tomorrow. I slipped between the sheets. Whenever I thought about the first night I would spend with that special someone, spending the night alone wasn't in my plans.

~~~~

Someone woke me very early the next morning by opening the door. I sat up, surprised the room was still cast in the gloomy shadows of dawn. Jillian smiled apologetically and came fully into the room with a steaming mug of hot coffee. She walked to the bed and carefully sat down. She handed the mug to me.

"I didn't want to watch by myself," she said in embarrassment. Her green eyes met mine shyly. "Did you sleep well?"

I wrapped my hands around the mug, grateful for the warmth. The cold English weather seeped into every corner of the house. The rooms were almost warm. I shook my head, my eyes darting to the bay window where I had spent a few hours thinking last night. "Not really. I wish I had gone with her."

"I thought about that, too. I know she doesn't want me there, and I understand why. But she can't really say the same about you. I would feel better if they weren't the only family she had around her."

She patted my leg. "Come on. Let's go see what happened while we slept."

I trailed her down the stairs. Jillian confided that everyone else was still sleeping, but the household staff was up. If I was hungry, she could ask that something be prepared for me. I shook my head to decline the offer. I was too tired to feel hungry. Later, I would be ravenous, but for right then I just wanted to warm up with my coffee. We sat down in the library to watch the television by fire light.

The channel was still on CNN and we sat back in our chairs when the station was on commercial break. We were lulled into a false sense of security by the McDonald's commercial. Surely if anything had developed, CNN would be showing that and not this. I sipped my coffee and nearly choked as a recent photo of Patrick appeared on the screen. Senator Patrick Michael Brent read the words at the bottom of the screen followed by the dates 1914-1990.

Patrick was dead.

Jillian gasped and sat forward. I glanced over at her. She sat with one hand covering her mouth. I turned back to the screen as a solemn voice began to speak.

"Our breaking story this evening is the death of Senator Patrick Brent from a stroke he suffered two days ago." He turned the man sitting beside him. "The family was at the hospital when the Senator died, Marshall. Were they expecting this? We've been told all along that his condition was stable."

Marshall Denton, MD, glanced between the reporter and the camera. "The fact that the family came back to the hospital tonight is evidence that they knew his condition was critical. They may have been called back or they may have had every intention of coming back. To me that says they knew he was dying."

"Why is the family still in the hospital? The announcement of the Senator's death was made almost two hours ago. What can we infer from their continued presence here?"

The doctor sighed and shook his head. "My guess would be they are pulling themselves together. To us, Senator Patrick Brent has died. But for this family, a husband and a grandfather has died. Most people are not forced to run a gauntlet of cameras and reporters after losing a family member. I don't believe we will see them until they are composed. They will have to make a statement to the media before they leave. They know that."

The reporter nodded in agreement. He became the sole focus on the screen. "We will continue with coverage of Senator Brent's death when we know more. Now, on the International scene…"

I let the reporter's voice face away. Patrick had died without regaining consciousness. He would never have to face Alec. He would never be held accountable for his actions that Christmas Day. Death redeemed his son and now death would be his salvation. Whatever had happened, whatever he had done, he was beyond denigration.

"Mrs. Senett," Jillian and I turned to look up at the maid. "You have a phone call. Miss Alec."

Jillian murmured her thanks and reached for the receiver. She looked at me. "Darling? How are you?"

She nodded as she listened to Alec. I pictured Alec standing in a sterile hospital room, the last twenty-four hours showing on her face as years.

"Do you want us to come over?" She shook her head at me, relaying Alec's negative reply.

"Victoria is here, Darling, she wants to talk to you." She held her hand over the receiver and held it. She whispered to me, "Tell her you want to be with her."

I took the phone from her and shut my eyes, pretending that I was alone to talk with Alec. "Hi Honey. I miss you."

I heard the weary smile in her voice. "This isn't how I planned to spend our honeymoon." She paused and her tone was cool when she spoke. "The funeral is in a few days. They're going to allow his body to be viewed by the public for a day or something. I'm stuck here until at least the day after."

I smiled. This was one member of the Brent family who did not need any time to compose herself. Alec was annoyed not grief-stricken. She was doing this because it was expected of her. "How are you getting along with the family?"

She sighed. "They are very...solicitous. I would prefer they gave me some space. I am not Kellen Brent."

The words were familiar, but lacked the bitter edge I had come to know so well. She was Kellen Brent and the inevitable was happening. Alec was taking her rightful place in the Brent family. The first tendrils of fear snaked down my spine. I did not like the Brent family. I could help but wonder how I would like their Crowned Princess.

"I want to be with you," I whispered. I needed reassurances that she was still my Alec. I could not take losing her just when she was finally mine.

"You don't know how much I would love that, but please stay there. This is hell squared. I don't want to make any memories here with you. I'd only lose them because this is not a time I want to remember."

Jillian raised an eyebrow in question. I shook my head in answer. She frowned and sat back in her chair. I shrugged. We both knew she wasn't going to allow me to be with her. We both knew Alec needed to do this on her own. We both knew arguing with her was useless.

"I have to go, honey. I slipped away to make this call. I love you."

I blinked as the connection was broken before I could even say goodbye. I handed the phone to Jillian. "She had to go."

Our attention was returned to the television where they were announcing that the family would be leaving the hospital in a few minutes. We waited in silence. CNN went to a brief station identification before coming back to the entrance of Walter Reed. The somber Brent family exited the hospital and walked the human corridor to the podium that had been arranged for them. Alec, Celeste, and Patrick's nieces, Emily and Erin, were in a male circle. Brent Kenderson stepped to the podium.

My eyes were glued to Alec. She still wore my sweater. I attributed her pale weariness to the long plane rides and lack of sleep rather than to the loss of her grandfather. Her dark eyes watched Brent acknowledged Patrick's death and give the details of his funeral. He was going to be buried at Arlington.

"My family and I are deeply grateful for the cards and flowers that have been sent. Thank you for your prayers. Uncle Patrick would have been pleased to know that he meant so much to so many."

Jillian clicked the television off. "Only because those people never knew that Patrick was a bastard."

I watched her leave the library with a smile. While the rest of the world might believe Patrick was being fitted for his angel's wings, Jillian knew he was searching the flames of hell for his son. I resigned myself to the fact that she would not be watching CNN with me again until the funeral.

~~~~

I was good. I did not ask Alec if I could be with her when she called. I clenched my teeth to keep the plea from my lips. I played chess with my Dad, I took walks along the shore with Elane, I allowed Jillian to bestow her pent up maternal urges on me. I wandered Moregrove House and discovered several rudimentary Chasen Originals signed with a childish flourish by Kellen Brent. I realized very quickly that damp, gloomy England was not the best place for Alec. Her shadowed life needed sunshine. I could not imagine how she ever survived her dark moods in this chilly countryside.

The best place for her was warm, sunny Los Angles. I wondered if she could be persuaded to live at Windchase until our own house was built. We could live in Aubres and I would not mind at all, but I did think my Dad would miss Jillian. I did not see her letting Alec very far out of her life. Rainer and Alec needed to get together and negotiate Jillian's presence in their lives. Both had better realize pretty quick that Jillian saw herself in the dual role of wife and mother.

If only I had not seen Alec escorted by Brian to Patrick's open casket. She would have come back to Moregrove House to find me waiting for her. As it was, I stared at her in shock. She was haggard and the black dress she wore did nothing but emphasize her unhealthy pallor. She nodded to something Brian said to her and I was forcibly reminded of her on Christmas day, after Jillian was upstairs and my Dad had left to prepare his statement. Her eyes were dazed. She turned her head slowly to face her cousin and I saw concern flash across his face. He slipped his arm around her waist to steady her. He whispered something hopefully reassuring into her ear.

"Dad," I said, standing up, my eyes never leaving Alec's ashen face, "A plane. Alec said she was leaving after the funeral tomorrow. I want to be on that plane when it lands. I want to be waiting for her."

My father is a wonderful guy. I was on a charted flight back to the states within a few hours. I gave them strict instructions. Alec was not to leave the states unless it was on this plane and I didn't give a damn about her own arrangements or any that the Brent's made for her. I also did not want her to know I was on the plane. After the last few days, I wanted to surprise her. I wanted her happiness in seeing me to wash away whatever residuals of hell lingered.

~~~~

I watched the limo pull next to the plane from my captain's chair. Celeste Brent stepped out with Alec. I watched them speak as Alec's luggage was taken from the trunk and transferred to the plane. Alec was dressed in one of her tailored suits. Celeste needed to touch Alec. Her hands played with the collar of Alec's white silk shirt. Her fingers trailed over the dark blue jacket, stopping only long enough to pluck away pieces of lint. Alec was still as if understanding her grandmother's need. She should get used to her family reassuring themselves that she was once again only a touch away.

A bright grin came to Alec's face. She pulled Celeste to her for a tight hug. Alec took a step back and stared into her grandmother's face. She spoke and I read the words I love you. Celeste brought both hands to Alec's face and kissed her on the lips. Alec waited until the limo was driving away before turning to the plane.

I drank in every inch of her. Her stride was sure and confident. Her hair was caught by the breeze and she reached up her left hand to brush strands away from her eyes. For one brief second, while her hand was reaching up, I saw a glint of blue. Of all the images of her that I cherish, the one of her coming to the plane is the one I will forever treasure most. Her unfaltering stride taking her into a future free from the dark emptiness of her past.

Her past was shaped by one single second of insanity.

Brian will never be gone from her life. Even after everything he did and all that he was, he is her father. She is his legacy. He got so much more than he deserved.

The only thing known about her future is that I am in it. I will go to sleep every night with her in my arms. I will be there should the memories ever try to reclaim her in the middle of the night. I will be there as she paints whatever is next for the Chasen Originals. I will make Christmas the day it always should have been for her. I will love her always. I will love her forever.

"Tory?" She called, bounding onto the plane. "I know you're here."

And I will always be here, wherever here is for her.

The End

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