STEELE ROOTS
Part Five
by Melissa Jones
Remington turned his head as he passed a shop, acting as if he were admiring the merchandise displayed in the window. In fact, he was making sure Seamus was still following him. He was.
Good, Remington thought. At least it’ll keep him away from Laura.
Remington walked briskly down the narrow streets of downtown Rathkeale, leading Seamus away from the hotel and Laura’s destination -- Rachel McNamara’s cottage. They still couldn’t figure out where Seamus fit into all this, but it was obvious he wanted to make sure they didn’t get any answers concerning Joseph McEyre’s disappearance or Sarah McEyre’s death. Why else would he have shot at them earlier?
Remington knew the only chance they had to clear things up would be to keep Seamus from their only lead to Joseph: Rachel McNamara. He and Laura had staged an argument outside their hotel, both knowing Seamus was watching nearby. Laura had loudly insisted they end their quest. Remington “ended” the argument by yelling that he was going to get a drink, then he was going to Rachel’s. Laura stormed back into the hotel, and Remington took off down the street.
Obviously, the little display he and Laura had pulled outside the hotel had worked. Seamus had followed Remington for nearly twenty minutes now. Plenty of time for Laura to get to the cottage, Remington thought.
He stopped in front of another store window, staring inside as he pondered his next move. A part of him said to keep leading Seamus on this wild goose chase, but the rest of him was curious as to Seamus’ role in all this.
Remington set his jaw defiantly. It was time to get some answers.
He turned again and walked briskly to a nearby alley, striding confidently into it. Just inside, he flattened himself against the wall, readying for the first sign of the man tailing him, knowing he’d only have one chance to catch him by surprise and avoid being on the receiving end of Seamus’ pistol.
Remington heard heavy footsteps approaching. He raised his arms, ready to grab anything that came past the wall. Seamus came into view, and Remington lashed out, grabbing him by arm and flinging him to the opposite wall.
“Not so fast, old man,” Remington said, pushing Seamus to the alley wall and frisking him. His fingers hit a steel object, and he pulled the gun from Seamus’ waist. Tossing the old revolver down the alley, he turned Seamus to face him, holding him against the wall by his collar.
For the first time, Remington got a good look at his adversary’s face, and something about it disturbed him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. It didn’t matter, though. He had more important things to think about at the moment.
“Now that we’ve evened the playing field,” Remington said forcefully, “I want to know why you threatened my wife, and why you shot at us today.”
“Who are you?” Seamus said angrily, struggling to loosen Remington’s grip.
“It’s my job to ask the questions,” Remington said.
“You ask too many ... you and that woman. Who are you to butt into people’s private lives? You’re not a Garde,” Seamus said.
“No, I’m not the police, I’m a private detective, and I want some answers,” Remington said. Seamus paled.
“Who hired you?” he asked. “Who was it? A man? An old Englishman?”
“No, why? Have something against Englishman?” Remington said. Seamus struggled, but Remington bounced him against the wall again.
“No, it can’t be him. He died. They said so on the telly. So who was it?” Seamus asked. Suddenly, a look of fear crossed his face. “A young man. It was a young man, wasn’t it? Is that who hired you to ask all these questions?”
“What if it is a young man?” Remington asked. He had no idea who Seamus was talking about, but he hoped his bluff would draw a useful response.
It drew a response, but Remington wasn’t prepared for it.
Seamus’ hands flew up between Remington’s arms and pushed them away, breaking Remington’s grip. Before Remington could react, Seamus’ hammer-like fist slammed into Remington’s abdomen, knocking the wind from his lungs. Remington doubled over, his face lined up for Seamus’ left hook. Remington collapsed onto the pavement, his jaw stinging, his lungs fighting to regain air.
“You tell that little bastard that hired you that he’ll never get what he wants! He doesn’t deserve to know! He doesn’t deserve to have family,” Seamus growled. Remington tilted his head up to look into the face of hatred. He’d heard those words, that voice, before.
Suddenly, a voice from the past echoed in his ears. “Little bastards without parents don’t deserve love.” Remington’s chest tightened in horror as he suddenly realized what he had been struggling to put together. Seamus’ familiar looks, his voice ... Joseph’s voice.
“Joseph?” Remington whispered. Seamus’ eyes grew wide in fear. Suddenly, his face reddened.
“What did you say?!” he demanded. Remington stared at him in shock, not saying a word. Seamus displayed his anger at Remington’s lack of response by kicking Remington in the ribs. Remington grabbed his side, rolling away to avoid another painful blow. Seamus reached down and pulled him off the ground by his coat collar.
“You’ll never get what you want, you hear me?” Seamus yelled. “You or that woman.” Suddenly he paused, glancing around. “The woman ... She didn’t stay at that hotel, did she? You’re just a distraction.” He grabbed both sides of Remington’s collar and shook him. “Where’s the woman?” he demanded, shaking Remington, who struggled to break free. Seamus responded with another left hook. Remington’s head snapped back from the blow, as an “oof” escaped his throat.
“Hear this, detective,” Seamus spat, gripping Remington’s coat with both hands again. “Next time I see you or that woman, I’ll kill you both.” Seamus released Remington, letting him fall to the pavement with a dull thud. He stormed out of the alley. Remington heard him bellow for a cab, then heard a car door slam before the cab took off.
Remington struggled to his feet, his stomach and jaw still stinging from the blows they had received. He leaned forward to catch his breath, then slowly straightened. Was Seamus really Joseph? He certainly sounded like him, and he had as much hate within in him as Joseph had for Remington thirty-five years ago. Besides, the way Seamus reacted when Remington said Joseph’s name ... it had to be him.
Remington massaged his jaw, frustrated that he still didn’t have the answers he wanted, and now he had more questions. What was Joseph doing in Rathkeale? What was his connection to Rachel McNamara?
Remington turned to look behind him where he had tossed the gun. He spotted the butt sticking out from under some trash, and he bent to pick it up. He groaned as his ribs stung from the movement.
Suddenly, Remington straightened as a horrible thought struck him. If he’s gone to Rachel’s to check on her, Remington realized, he’ll find ...
“Laura,” he said dreadfully, remembering Seamus’ parting words. “Oh, God.” Remington ran to the street side, frantically looking for a ride and praying he could get to Rachel McNamara’s before Seamus did.
***
Laura knocked on the door a bit more persistently, having gotten no response the first time. She shifted uncomfortably, staring at the dulled hunter-green door of the modest cottage.
Laura knew they were very close to unlocking the secrets of Remington’s past. While she was glad it was nearly over, she wasn’t fully prepared to face the consequences those secrets might unleash. She wasn’t sure Remington was ready, either, but she knew he had to know. On top of all of that was this Seamus character. What was his stake in all this? Why shoot at them? Sarah was dead, so he couldn’t be protecting her. He had to be protecting Joseph, but why? Was there some other, deeper secret to Remington’s past that he didn’t want them to know?
Laura raised her hand to knock a final time, but the door creaked open before she made contact. A woman stood on the other side. She was slightly taller than Laura and nearly as thin. Several wisps of gray mingled with her jet-black hair, and strong lines around her eyes and mouth indicated she was probably middle-aged. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes dulled, as if there was no more life or happiness left in her. But that wasn’t what made Laura draw a breath. It was the familiarity of those deep blue eyes.
“Yes?” the woman asked in a soft voice. Laura opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t get anything to emerge. “Can I help you, Miss?” the woman asked again.
“I ... uh ... My name is Laura Holt ... Steele,” Laura said, trying to concrete her thoughts enough to keep from sounding like a complete idiot. “Are you Rachel McNamara?”
“Yes, I am,” the woman said, confusion covering her face.
“Ms. McNamara, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to speak with you about something rather important. Please, may I come in?”
Rachel looked at Laura with a mix of distrust and concern, but she stepped aside and motioned her into the house. Laura walked into the cozy living room as the woman closed the door.
“Let me take your coat. Please, have a seat, Miss ... Steele?”
“Mrs. Steele,” Laura corrected, removing her coat and handing it to Rachel, who hung it on a nearby rack. “Thank you.” Laura sat on the small sofa next to the fireplace, glad for the heat after spending so long in the cold morning air.
“Now, what can I do for you, Mrs. Steele?” Rachel asked in a soft Irish lilt as she sat in a chair opposite Laura. Laura stared at her, looking into blue eyes she felt she knew so well. She couldn’t ignore the woman’s appearance. Was this a relative? She had to be. Was this the secret Seamus was trying to protect?
“I ... uh ... I’m looking for information about someone, and I thought you could help me.” Laura struggled to get a grip on the conversation. She had to keep calm if she was going to get this woman to trust her enough to tell her the truth.
“I’m not certain I can help. I don’t know many people around here. I generally keep to myself. Have for years,” Rachel said.
“Well, you may know of this person. I understand you lived near Navan many years ago. Is that correct?” Laura asked. Her keen eyes didn’t miss the flush creeping across Rachel’s face, or the nervous look in her eyes.
“Navan?” Rachel asked, her voice cracking slightly. “Um, yes, I lived near there for a brief time.”
“I’m looking for information on a man that lived there thirty-five years ago. His name was Joseph McEyre. Did you know him?” This time, Rachel went completely white. Laura was taken aback by Rachel’s strange reaction.
“McEyre? Um, no. No, I don’t believe so,” Rachel said nervously, averting her eyes.
“He had two daughters back then. One was named Sarah, and she lived there as well. She had a sister, Stacy Piper, a widow who lived outside Blanchardstown on a farm,” Laura said. Rachel got up and stood in front of the fireplace, staring down at the small fire in it.
“Sarah,” Rachel whispered. Laura could see she was trembling. What on earth is going on?
“Did you know her?” Laura asked. Rachel stood silently, lost in thought. Laura wasn’t sure why Rachel seemed so disturbed, but she decided to press on.
“Sarah took up with a stranger in 1952,” Laura continued cautiously. “A man named Daniel Chalmers.” Laura watched as Rachel grasped the mantle, holding on for dear life.
“Daniel ...” Rachel whispered breathlessly as her eyes suddenly watered. Suddenly, a dreadful thought entered Laura’s mind. She felt her heart drop. Oh, my God, she thought. It can’t be ... can it?
“She...she had a child with Daniel in 1953. A son,” Laura said, struggling to control her cracking voice. Rachel trembled, but didn’t move or look at Laura. “Daniel was prison when the baby was born. He was told Sarah died in childbirth.”
Rachel suddenly whipped her head around to Laura, a look of horror and shock on her face, tears coursing down her cheeks.
“What?” she asked, wide-eyed. Laura was shocked. She hadn’t expected that reaction.
“Yes,” Laura said. “He was told she died giving birth. The baby was given away shortly thereafter. The boy’s grandfather, Joseph, kept the boy from Daniel until the boy ran away at age six.”
Rachel was completely ashen now. She stepped to the chair, gripping the arm as she lowered herself to the seat.
“Six? The baby? Six? You’re saying ... he’s alive?” she asked, her tears flowing. Laura stared at her in amazement. She definitely didn’t expect that reaction.
“Yes, he is,” Laura said.
“And Daniel? Daniel didn’t die in 1953?” Rachel probed.
“Well, no, he didn’t, but ...”
“Oh, God,” Rachel said, sobbing. “Are you certain? The boy ... are you certain he’s Sarah’s son?”
“Yes. His aunt, Stacy, confirmed it,” Laura said. “Why?”
“Stacy’s seen him? She knows him?”
“Yes. He found her a few days ago,” Laura said. She could barely believe what was happening, but her fears seemed to be confirmed with each word from the woman’s mouth. How will Remington ever handle this?
“I was tol ... I heard that he was the one who died. Shortly after birth. Crib death,” she said. Laura gasped.
“You heard the boy died?” Laura clarified.
“Aye, the boy. And Daniel died in a prison fight just before the boy was born,” she explained.
“No, Daniel lived. He found his son when the boy was fourteen. They were together for twenty years,” Laura said, fighting her own tears.
“Were?” Rachel asked. Laura swallowed hard.
“Daniel ... he died recently,” Laura explained. Rachel closed her eyes, sobbing softly. “I’m sorry,” Laura said, her own tears spilling over her smooth cheeks. Rachel fought to compose herself.
“The boy. You know him? You know where he is?” she asked hopefully. Laura nodded.
“Yes. He’s my husband,” Laura responded. Rachel gasped. “He goes by the name ‘Remington Steele’ now.”
“Remington Steele,” Rachel repeated. “Does he know his birth name?”
“Yes. That’s what this is all about. He was trying to find out his real name, and find out more about his past. He was looking for clues about his mother, about where he came from, who he is,” Laura explained. “Stacy said his name was Harry. Harrison Daniel, after his father.” Rachel sobbed again, a smile suddenly breaking through her tears.
“Stacy also told him that Sarah was buried in Navan next to her mother, but there is no grave for her there,” Laura continued. “We thought if we could find Joseph, we could find where Sarah is buried.”
“Harry knows Joseph?” Rachel asked, shocked.
“Yes. He was staying with his aunt when he was about five or six, and Joseph came and took him away,” Laura said. “Remington ran away from Joseph when they reached London. It was Joseph who told Stacy that Sarah was buried in Navan.”
Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.
“Rachel, we have to leave n ...” Seamus said, stopping short when he spotted Laura. His face filled with hate as Laura’s paled with fear. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here?!” he roared. He looked at Rachel, noticing the tears on her face for the first time. His expression changed to one of dread. “Rachel, come. We must go now. Whatever this woman told you, don’t believe it. She’s a liar!”
Laura jumped up to protest, but she was interrupted as Remington burst into the cottage.
“Laura, I found the man, and he’s ...” he stopped as he spotted Seamus. Laura looked at Rachel, and looked back at Remington. Rachel’s breath came in short bursts as understanding washed over her. Seamus turned to Remington, a look of pure rage on his face.
“I told you to stay away! I warned you!” Seamus cried.
“Yes, well, I’ve never done what you told me, have I, Joseph?” Remington asked coldly, hate in his eyes. Seamus looked confused, but it soon dissolved into pure rage. He lunged at Remington, who grabbed the old man’s arms in defense. Laura moved toward them to aid her husband.
“Stop it!”
Everyone froze at the sound of Rachel’s shriek and turned toward her.
“Stop it!” she screamed again, moving toward Seamus. She pulled his arms down and away from Remington. “Haven’t you done enough?!”
“Rachel, darlin’ ” Seamus said, trying to soften his voice. He grabbed her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, pulling her arm from his grasp and backing away. “Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t call me that! No more, you understand! You’ll call me by my name, you bastard! I’m Sarah! Sarah!” she screamed as the tears came again.
Remington’s face went white. He looked at Laura, who nodded.
“Meet your mother,” she said softly. Her heart ached as she saw the shock and agony on Remington’s face.
“No! You! It can’t be!” Seamus said, finally realizing who Remington really was. His hands knotted into fists as he took a step toward Remington, who was equally preparing for a fight.
“Don’t you dare touch him, Joseph McEyre! Don’t you dare!” Sarah yelled. He lowered his hands.
“Now, Rachel, you have to listen ...”
“I said don’t call me that!” she cried. “For thirty-five years, you’ve called me that, because you said I brought such shame to the McEyre name, shame to the name Sarah, my mother’s name. Well, what you’ve done has far overshadowed any shame I’ve brought, and I’ll not live in your lies anymore! You’ll call me by my name! My real name! I’m Sarah!”
“Ra ... Sarah, please listen to me,” Joseph said, moving toward his daughter.
“No! I don’t want to listen to you anymore! I’ve heard enough of your lies!” Sarah screamed. “You’ve lied to me for thirty-five years. You took everything from me! Everything I ever loved, everything that ever mattered! Daniel! Harry! Stacy! You robbed me of my entire family ... of my entire life! Damn you!”
“I did what I had to!” Joseph countered. “I did what was needed so you could show your face in public! I robbed you of nothing you hadn’t already thrown away yourself by sharing a bed with that criminal! You brought this on yourself, Sarah! You committed a terrible sin, and God punished you for it.”
“God didn’t punish me, you did!” Sarah screamed. “You were the one who was shamed! You were the one who judged me! I loved Daniel, and I know he loved me, and he loved his son. I know he loved his son ... Harry’s wife just told me they spent the last twenty years together. But I didn’t get to share that, because you took it all away from me! Because you couldn’t forgive me! Because you thought it was your right, yours, not God’s, to judge me!”
“I’m your father, and it was my right! I did what I had to do to allow us to walk around in public,” Joseph said. “I’m just glad your mother didn’t live to see the shame you brought to this family. I let you off lucky, I did. Believe me, girl, I’d have turned you out years before all this had I known I was raising a slut!”
“You son of a ...” Remington growled, lunging at Joseph. Using all his strength and anger, he delivered a crushing right blow to Joseph’s face, knocking the old man to the floor. Remington tackled him as the man crumpled to the floor, delivering blow after blow.
“Stop! Remington!” Laura cried, running to her husband and pulling him back. Remington paused at Laura’s tug, but still straddled the stunned Joseph.
“You selfish bastard! Your idiotic pride cost me my life! I could have had a family, a good life, if it weren’t for you!” Remington yelled at the old man. “Daniel did love her, and he loved me. He would have been there for both of us, we could have been a family, if you hadn’t interfered!”
“Remington, please,” Laura said, pulling gently on his shoulders. He rose, backing away from Joseph, who was trying to stop the blood now flowing from his nose and mouth.
“Your father ruined my daughter!” Joseph said, struggling to rise onto one elbow.
“And you ruined your daughter’s life, not to mention your grandson’s,” Remington countered angrily. “You punished me for something that I had no control over!”
“Harry, that’s enough,” Sarah said, laying her hand gently on her son’s left arm. He quieted, looking at his mother as his tears fell down his cheeks. She turned back to Joseph, her look changing to a determined one.
“Joseph, it’s over,” she said firmly. “All of this is done. No more lies, no more of you keeping me from my son. It all ends now.”
“Sarah ...” Joseph said, rising slowly.
“You say you wanted to turn me out because I shamed you. Well, now it’s my turn. I’m turning you out because what you have done I could never forgive. God help me, but I’ll never forgive you for this, and I’ll have nothing more to do with you.”
“Sarah, you’re still my daughter ...”
“Not anymore. You are no longer my father. You’re dead in my eyes. The father I knew was stern, but he had a heart and was never cruel. What you did could only be done by a cruel monster with no heart. You’re not my father. My father is dead,” she said coldly.
“If I died, then it was you that killed me,” Joseph said angrily.
“Perhaps I did, or perhaps it was your pride. Whatever the case, it’s done now. Leave, Joseph,” she said. “Leave, and never come back. I don’t want you to contact me, my son or my sister ever again. Do you understand?”
Joseph’s expression softened into anguish as he realized she meant her cold words.
“Sarah, please ...” Joseph said in a quieter tone.
“Leave,” Sarah said firmly. Joseph stared at his daughter, opening his mouth to protest. Remington took a step forward as Laura moved to the other side of Sarah, forming a front against Joseph’s next verbal attack. Joseph realized it was over. He set his jaw firmly.
“Fine. I tried to save you from the bowels of Hell, but if you choose to take that path, then so be it,” he said.
“If I do, then I’ll see you there,” she said. “Goodbye, Joseph.”
Joseph gritted his teeth, then forced back his anger. He gave a cold glance to Laura, then to Remington.
“I should have taken care of you on that trip twenty-eight years ago,” he growled.
“Get out, Joseph!” Sarah ordered. Joseph looked at her once more.
“Fine. To hell with you. To hell with all of you!” He stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard it shook the cottage.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah bowed her head, making the sign of the cross.
“God forgive me for what I’ve done today,” she whispered.
“I’m sure he understands,” Laura said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sarah smiled at her warmly, her trembling subsiding.
Laura looked at Remington, who was staring in wonder at Sarah. She smiled softly.
“Sarah, let me introduce you to my husband, Remington Steele,” she said, turning Sarah toward her son. “Only I think you know him better as Harrison Daniel McEyre.”
Sarah cried softly, her smile penetrating her tears. Remington’s own tears flowed freely down his face. Sarah took his arms, rubbing them as if to make sure he was real. She reached up with her right hand and touched his wet cheek. Remington put his hand on her raised arm as his right hand grasped her free one.
“Harry ...” Sarah said, her voice cracking with sobs. “My boy, my son. Is it really you? Really my Harry?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m ...” He choked back a sob as he realized what he was about to say. “I’m Harry. That’s my name.” Sarah laughed with joy as she pulled her son into a tight embrace for the first time. Remington clung to her, his heart pounding with happiness. Thirty-five years of loneliness and pain finally flowed out of him in a torrent of tears.
Laura stood back and watched as Remington finally grasped the one thing he’d long for all his life. Her tears fell quietly as she watched mother and son holding each other. Neither she nor Remington could have imagined any of this, but she was glad it had turned out well, for the most part. Now, he not only had a name, but an aunt and a mother.
Suddenly, a disturbing thought entered her head. What would he want to do now? He had found a mother and aunt he never knew existed. How could he leave here now? He had a real name now, too. How could she ask him to go back to a fictitious one?
Laura had no doubt he loved her. Still, she couldn’t just expect him to return to Los Angeles with her as Remington Steele after all that had happened. He had just discovered a new life, one that had been stolen from him decades ago.
As desperately as she needed him, Laura knew she couldn’t pull him away from all this, even if it killed her inside.
No, if he wanted to stay, she would let him go. She loved him too much to consider any other choice.
Laura stood watching the reunion, crying softly. A mix of emotion washed through her: joy that Remington had finally found himself, and pain that she might lose the man she loved.
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