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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
The Visit - by MMB
Chapter 3: Echoes
Sydney felt a hand insinuate itself into the crook of his elbow and cling tightly as the other came over and joined it in surrounding his arm firmly. He looked over into Miss Parker's face, for a change utterly devoid of make up, and marveled that she still could nevertheless paint herself with the façade of Ice Queen with such ease. "Relax," he said to her softly. "You're safe here."
Her answer was to cling just a little more tightly. She looked around at the grass and the little running brook that trickled gently just to their left and felt that same nervousness she had experienced the afternoon before. They had spoken once more that morning over their breakfast of toast and coffee of the lack of pressure or expectations that she would have to get used to. It would take time to remember that all the things firmly associated with her former job that had defined her life for her for as long as she could remember were removed here. Last night, just before their argument, he'd made mention of the need to go through a kind of withdrawal from the Centre and the way it had dominated his own life. Here, in the open air of an Arizona morning, she was beginning to see how right he'd been.
"It doesn't feel like winter at all," she commented quietly, still marveling that the grass about them was green and lush, and the temperature on her lightly sweatered arm was comfortably warm as compared to the near deep-freeze she had left behind.
"I know," he rumbled at her, enjoying her sense of discovery almost as much as he'd enjoyed the discovery when he'd made it himself. "Now that I've been back to Delaware, I have to admit that I'm not going to miss the snow and ice much at all."
They moved to one side and allowed a person with in-line skates to swish on past them, looking remarkably business-like. Parker blinked and turned to stare after him. "Don't tell me..." she started.
"Some people around here actually do commute to work that way when the weather's decent," Sydney shrugged. "It took me a while to get used to that idea too."
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," she sighed and then pulled herself closer to his arm again with a shake of the head. "What's the name of this place again?"
"Indian Wash Park," he answered her and then gestured around them. "When it rains here - and believe me, it CAN rain very hard here - the wash serves as storm drainage for a good deal of this side of town. Other times, it's a park, a golf course, a skateboard area..." He patted her joined hands on his arm. "We'll only walk a little ways today. This thing stretches for miles, and I don't think you're good for more than a city block or so at the moment."
They walked silently for a while with her clinging tightly to him, and he marveled at the idea that Miss Parker was willing to be so demonstrably needy and dependent on him - especially after her painful demonstration of deep suspicion and distrust the night before. He thought about it for a bit while watching the blue jays in a bare palo verde tree, and saw where another cycle of vacillation was starting - a healthier one in terms of being closer to the root of her underlying issues, but another challenge needing careful management nonetheless. The swing between clinging desperately and then pushing away desperately would more than likely move roughly in tandem with and hopefully eventually replace the vacillation between lethargy and anger that was more a symptom of deep depression.
She had grown up an abused and love-starved child, only coddled when it served an agenda and then pushed away, disappointed or outright betrayed otherwise. The only time she'd actually begun to trust in the support of another, someone that had genuinely deserved her trust, Thomas had been murdered and stolen from her. It was obvious she needed the freedom to cling - to get all the hugs and love from him she'd been denied all these years by her father. But her defensive independence and self-reliance were habits that would be hard to break, and so they would more than likely reassert themselves abruptly and without warning or reason.
He would have to be ready and willing to offer her whatever tactile support she needed at any given moment - to provide the hugs and coddling and love whenever she asked or needed them with a firm constancy that would let his actions actually speak louder than words. He had told her the night before that he thought of her like a daughter; to prove it, he would have to give her a father's unconditional love unreservedly no matter what she threw at him. And yet at the same time, out of self-protection if nothing else, he would have to be ready to step back lovingly when she needed to prove to herself she could stand alone again.
Neither of them needed her to cultivate a co-dependence on him. He would far rather she build a healthier kind of independence and self-reliance that was natural, not defensive - one based on knowing through experience she COULD depend on him for love and support when the need was real...
"Syd?"
"Hmmm?" Her soft voice had broken through his musing.
"What am I going to DO while I'm here?" It had been a thought that had run through her head in the long moments before she'd arisen that morning.
"Eat, rest, relax, get better," he began listing, counting the items off on his fingers.
"No, really," she insisted. "I can't just sit around the house all day between meals - I'll go stir-crazy, and then you WILL have problems with me!"
"Well," he thought for a bit, inwardly pleased that she was - at least for the moment - thinking in such terms, "you DO have a couple of errands that you shouldn't put off for too long. You have to take the cashier's checks in and establish yourself in a bank here eventually, and you should probably consider applying for an Arizona driver's license before too long. There's also the fact that you haven't seen much of the area yet - and I did purchase a car when I got here. We can drive around and see what there is to see..."
She pointed to a picnic table under a tree near the little brook, and while Sydney seated himself sedately on the bench, she climbed a bit and sat down on the table itself next to and behind him. "What have YOU been doing with yourself since you moved here?" she asked, keeping physical contact by scooting so that her knee was pressing his shoulder.
"You don't believe that I could have just taken advantage of an opportunity to catch up on all the reading I'd not had a chance to do for years?" he asked in a light tone.
"Not for a whole six months straight," she admitted, leaning her elbows on her denim-clad knees and watching the water trickle past absently. "And I seriously doubt you've become addicted to watching soap operas all day long."
"Hardly." His tone was so disgusted that it made her smile for a moment, remembering the way they used to be able to banter carefully years ago. "It so happened that one of my classmates at medical school retired here a few years back," he told her after a pause where he framed his response carefully. "We got together about a month after I arrived, and he told me that he was doing some consulting for one of the public mental health offices on a limited basis. You know me, I can't resist wanting to help people," he patted her nearby knee gently, "so I found the nearest mental health office to my home and offered my services on a similarly limited basis."
"So you're working as a shrink again after all?" Miss Parker tipped her head and looked at his face.
He nodded very subtlely as he watched a raven preen itself. "I had a total of three patients that I was seeing on a semi-regular basis before my trip to the hospital. But I told the agency that I might not be available to do much for a while just before I traveled to Delaware. They've made arrangements for another shrink to take their cases until I call them and let them know I'm ready to go back to work." He tipped his head back so he could look at her. "As far as I'm concerned, right now YOU are my only concern."
"So I'm just another patient to you, then?" the grey eyes narrowed slightly.
He closed his eyes and breathed softly through his nose to retain his calm. Yes, here was the push away to go with the clinging, just as he expected. It's just a bad habit you need to help her break, he reminded himself, don't take it personally - except insofar as you can make a point with it. "I thought we'd agreed that you were going to give me time and a chance to demonstrate something quite a bit different from that," he chided softly. "Although speaking of patient, to be honest, I have never known to you be very patient - despite your promise last night to at least try."
His words, although spoken gently, were like a soft verbal slap. She had indeed promised to give him the benefit of the doubt and time to prove himself, and he was within his rights to remind her of that. "Oh God," she sighed and hung her head. "I'm doing it again."
"Yes, you are," he answered gently, "and you're forgiven." She was silent next to him, and finally he turned enough to smooth a hand across her hunched back a couple of times. "C'mon," he urged at her without a shift in his tone of voice, "let's head back. I think you've had enough for now." He rose from his seat and turned, extending his hand to her. "C'mon, Parker. Let's go home."
"I'm going to hurt you again, I just know it," she murmured softly, not moving or looking up at him. "I don't know how NOT to."
Sydney reached out and grasped one of her dangling hands and pulled, succeeding in at least getting her to look at him again. "C'mon now," he urged again and then reached out with the other hand and captured her other free hand and helped her from her perch back to the ground. "Look, after last night, I don't have any illusions here. I have a pretty good idea what I'm in for," he told her in a voice he hoped conveyed confidence. He tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow and turned them both around so that they could begin retracing their steps back to the condominium complex. It wasn't long before she had brought her other hand around and encircled his forearm completely, her grasp tight and sure. "It's OK," he soothed, putting his other hand over her two and patting them. "We'll get through this."
The walk back to the apartment took a little longer than the walk out as Miss Parker's still-meager store of energy began to run out a little ahead of schedule. Soon the grasp on the arm was as much for physical support as it was for moral support. Sydney stopped their movement once more, not far from the complex, so that she could again sit at a convenient bench and catch her breath. He seated himself patiently next to her and rubbed her back while she struggled to breathe normally again.
"This is ridiculous," she grumbled at herself.
"No, we went further than we should have the first day," he countered, continuing to rub her back soothingly. "I overestimated your stamina. We won't go quite so far tomorrow."
"But you need the walk too..." she complained.
"I'm doing fine, don't worry about me." He looked forward to the distance between where they were and the gate into the condominium complex. "Better?" he asked, leaning forward to look into her face.
"Yeah."
"Then let's get you home and resting again," he said, rising and extending his hand so that she could have help getting to her feet again. "Slowly now."
"I can remember when I used to be able to walk for miles," she chided herself bitterly, "and not even notice the effort."
"Yes, and you were in top form and used to eat more healthily in those days too, I'd wager," he countered as her hands sought out their now-familiar niche on his arm and leaned on him. "This is another area where you're going to have to be patient, Parker - only with yourself this time. Give yourself some time to get your strength back before you start knocking yourself for what you can or can't do."
"I'm a mess," she sighed, thoroughly disgusted with herself when she almost tripped because she wasn't lifting her feet quite as high as she needed to. "How did I let myself get into this shape?"
Sydney decided that the best course was to not respond any further, but let her vent at herself for a bit. At least now she had had her depleted physical condition brought home to her in a way that hopefully assured her continued cooperation in her own recovery on that account. Instead, he again put his hand on hers on his arm and patted her soothingly as he felt her lean on him just a little bit more.
But with that final grumble, the rest of the walk took place in a companionable silence again, with her focusing on keeping her feet firmly beneath her and moving steadily. They paused at the bottom of the stairs up to the condo, and Miss Parker was glad she was wearing denim when she sat herself down on the steps tiredly. "You're a cardiac patient, and you live on a second floor walk up?" she asked him with a wry and disbelieving tone.
"Yes, well, I bought this place before my heart began to give me grief," he answered, leaning on the banister next to her. "These stairs were half the reason the doctor kept me in the hospital an extra day - he didn't want me working that hard quite so soon. But now I'm glad I have them - they help me keep in shape."
"OK, so you have a part-time psychiatric practice now. What else do you do with your time?" she pressed as she leaned her elbows on her knees again.
"There are my weekly chess games at the club house here at the complex," he listed. "That reminds me. Once you start to feel a little better, there is an exercise gym at the clubhouse, and a schedule of some Tai Chi and aerobics classes that you can join. There's also a swimming pool, which is really nice on hot evenings to relax."
"God, I got tired just listening to you list all that," she said, a smile dulling the sharpness of her words.
He smiled back. "There's enough to do here that I doubt that you'll find yourself bored for long."
"Retirement community?"
"Not at all," he shook his head. "A few of the residents have children, but there are strict noise abatement rules and designated playgrounds for the younger ones."
"And some of these people are your friends?" she asked, curious. "The people you called last night to tell that you were back again?"
"Yes."
She got to her feet again. "I think that until I have got some of my endurance back, I'll wait on visiting your clubhouse."
"I hope you won't take it amiss if I return to my previous schedule, however," he queried as he moved to her side and put a hand at her elbow to help her up the stairs. "One of the things I like most about living here is that I finally have people with whom to play chess regularly again. I haven't had that since..."
"Jarod left," she finished for him with a dry tone.
"Well..."
She narrowed her eyes. "Of course, you never ASKED anybody else..."
"You think not?" He was surprised at her tone. "I had a chessboard set up somewhere in the Sim Lab the entire time you and I worked together looking for Jarod - and I can remember several times when I was either working out a chess problem or simply playing a game with myself as opponent in your presence. I assumed that you didn't play anymore when you never ever even offered a move. Even Broots and I would play a game every once in a while, or he'd kibbitz when I would be working a problem..."
"I always figured that you wouldn't be satisfied with any opponent less masterful than Jarod," she said quietly as she waited for him to open the door for her. "After playing against a genius constantly for years, you must be a master."
"Did you know that Angelo played?" he asked her with a smile, stepping aside so she could go past him and through the door. "And played surprisingly well at that? I didn't, until after Jarod left, that is. I was working a problem, and he came down out of his vent and made the next move for me - and it was brilliant..."
"God, Sydney!" She turned and was standing there, shaking her head at him, half angry now. "It was always Angelo or Jarod with you, wasn't it? Why was it OK for you to ask Angelo to play, or even Broots, but you never bothered to think that I'd be interested?"
Sydney stared at her, then closed the door behind them. "Parker! Are you listening to yourself? Think, woman! You would breeze in and out of the Sim Lab like this busy corporate executive, only spending just enough time to either give orders, intimidate someone or get information before you were out the door again. Just WHEN did you expect me to invite you to a nice, leisurely game of chess, eh?" He stalked over to her, his hands at his hips. "Just tell me what your reaction would have been if I'd walked up to you - perhaps while Lyle was standing there - and asked, “Pardon me, Miss Parker, but would you be interested in a nice game of chess after work?”? Or should I have waited until after you had just bullied Broots into five more years' worth of prematurely grey hair to offer you a chance to relax over a chessboard?"
"Did you even THINK about it once?" she shot back, stung by the image he'd painted for her.
"No." There was no candy-coating that truth. "Once you came back from corporate, you had made it very plain that you wanted nothing to do with anybody other than your father outside of work. After all, we did not socialize, you and I, after your father sent you away to school. If you hadn't noticed, playing a game with someone requires a certain level of socialization with that person."
"What about NOW?" she demanded.
"What ABOUT now?" he retorted. "Now that I know you play, and that you would enjoy sitting down to a game, I'm sure we will play - and probably play often. Does that mean I can't enjoy my games with my other friends too, though?"
"No..."
"Do you honestly think that just because I spent time with Angelo and Jarod over the years - and considerably more of those years with them than with you for many, MANY reasons - I didn't enjoy your company when you WERE around? Did I ignore you back then?"
"Not exactly," she answered, feeling pushed into a corner where she would have to really LOOK at what had made her so unhappy. "It's just..." Her words ground to a halt.
"Just what?"
She looked at him, having swung away from her anger suddenly and suddenly defenseless. "It's just that it never seemed fair to me that you spent all that time with Jarod, teaching him, leading him, caring for him... and then later with Angelo, trying to reach him, to work past the damage Raines caused... and yet Daddy never ever spent a fraction..." She blinked hard, her eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. "And then you never even wrote to me after I was sent to school..."
Sydney gaped again. "You WANTED me to write to you after you went away? Did it ever occur to you that it would have helped if you had written first, so I'd have known where to send a reply?"
The finely arched brows slid toward the center of her brow as the anger returned. "What do you mean, IF I had written first? What about all those letters I DID write, telling you how lonely I was in Switzerland with nobody who wanted to speak my language with me... I waited and waited, but you never answered them..."
"WHAT letters?" Sydney frowned and stepped forward. "Parker, I didn't GET any letters - not at the house, and not at the Lab. I was hoping to, considering that you and I were on friendly terms when you left - not to mention your friendship with Jarod and Angelo. I swear I watched for them carefully for months. But after a while, I figured your life had taken you in a different direction that didn't include us..."
His tone forced her to look carefully at him and see that he was genuinely telling her the truth and was upset at hearing that she had written after all. Here was another cause of so much pain and anguish over the years, suddenly exposed for the illusion it actually was. He HADN'T received the plaintive cries for help from a very homesick little girl - he HADN'T just ignored her at one of the worst times in her life. "That bastard," she hissed, squeezing her eyes closed at yet a new piece of evidence of the way she had been manipulated and betrayed by the man who had claimed her paternity. In a way, she was glad she wasn't his daughter really, now... Not that Raines was any more acceptable...
"He must have had the mail watched both at your school and at the Centre, so that no word from you made it to the Sim Lab. I have a hunch that he would have made sure no word from us made it back to you either." He used the back of his fingers to stroke her cheek gently. "My God, Parker! I didn't know. I swear to you..."
"Damn him!" she spat softly, then more loudly: "Damn him to Hell. Damn them all! Why? Why couldn't I have just ONE person allowed close? Why couldn't I have just ONE friend..." She slowly walked away from Sydney into the living room and crumpled dejectedly finally into a corner of the couch. "All this time, I thought you had just been too busy with Jarod, that you forgot I was even alive the moment I wasn't right there in front of you." She curled up, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up onto the cushion so she could hug her knees to her chest defensively.
Sydney took advantage of her movement and physical withdrawal to head quickly to the kitchen and retrieve two of the small squares of shortbread from the plate that still sat in the middle of his table. He came back out to the living room, sat down on the couch next to her, then tapped one of her clasped hands with his until she finally was convinced to look at him. He held out the hand, and eventually she uncurled enough so that she put out an open palm to receive his offering. "Here, these will give you a little energy boost - I think you need it."
"I even asked him about it, one time when he came to visit," she continued while nibbling obediently but absently on one of the shortbread cubes. "He told me that your work with Jarod had reached a very exciting and delicate stage - and that you just didn't have the time to deal with simple homesickness. He told me that homesickness was a weakness that we Parkers didn't show unless we were defective. He made me feel so guilty for feeling the way I did..."
"Christ!" Sydney shook his head at the blatancy of the lie and the cruelty of the manipulation she'd endured. "My work with Jarod was never more or less exciting or delicate from one day to the next for over thirty years. And I most certainly WOULD have been very happy to write back to you, had I known you had written. And I would have written quite often had I known how lonesome you were there."
"Did he EVER do anything but lie to me, Sydney?" she asked plaintively, swallowing the rest of the first cube and feeling the sweetness pull the dryness from her mouth.
He shook his head again. "I honestly don't know," he told her sadly. "From everything we've discovered, though, I hate to say that I suspect not."
She turned wide and vulnerable grey eyes to him that still held a healthy helping of skepticism and suspicion in their depths. "You aren't going to lie to me anymore, are you?"
"No, I'm not," he told her firmly. "Even if the truth is painful to us both, I will not lie to you - either by commission or omission. You've had too much of that - it's time you got used to hearing the unvarnished truth when all I can offer you is words. Where actions are concerned, however, I'm thinking that eventually you'll be able to pick out the truth for yourself. That's why I asked for time."
"You really didn't get my letters?" Her voice was small.
He shook his head sadly. "No, Parker, I really didn't get them."
"You really didn't love Jarod and Angelo more than me?"
Chestnut eyes blinked in muted surprise, then half-closed as he framed his response carefully. "The answer to that one depends. If you quantify love as equal to the time spent in the company of a person, I can't help but say that I had no choice but to love them more. After all, your father sent you away to school for a very long time, then kept you at the corporate office long after that." It was a truth, and not a comfortable one. Miss Parker's eyes looked down at the last cube of shortbread in her hand until Sydney's hand at her chin raised her gaze again to his. "But if you quantify love as a measure of the fondness a person feels in here for another," he pointed to his chest, "then I'd have to say no. I loved you no more and no less than I did Jarod or Angelo. You three were the closest I was ever going to get to having children of my own - I loved you each differently, and I couldn't be open about it to any of you, but I loved you all very much."
"Do you still love me, even after all the things I've ever said and done that..."
"Parker," he interrupted, putting a finger on her lips to still her words, "I went back to Delaware to find you and bring you back with me so I could be the one to help you regain your health and build a new life. I've given you return tickets - the freedom to stay or leave as you choose - and not obligated you here at all. I've told you that I think of you as a daughter, and I asked for a chance to let my actions show that I mean what I say. So, what do you think?"
That was almost as good as an admission - but not quite. A tear swam. "Why won't you say it?"
"Because," he answered softly, letting his hand hold her cheek again, "if I said it now, it would still be just words. Your father told you he loved you too, over and over again - did his actions prove his words?" He waited until she shook her head slightly. "Then you see why I refuse to do things the way he did."
"Is it that you can say it to Jarod, and not to me?" The tear hit the cheek.
"No," he replied, using a thumb to wipe away the tear, "I never said it to Jarod either - because I always thought that if I did, I would hold him back from finding his real family eventually. I loved him too much to ever let that happen - and I know he will resent never hearing it from me for as long as he lives, and that's a pain that will never go away. If he finds his family, however, then that pain will be worth it."
"And Angelo?"
He smiled softly. "Angelo already knew - the same way Angelo knew so many things. With him, words weren't necessary."
"What about Nicholas?"
He looked up at her again, startled. "I admit I felt a father's pride in Nicholas - in his accomplishments and in the kind of man he turned out to be - but it wasn't the same kind of love I felt for you three. He was my biological son - but I had no part in his childhood. We never had the time to explore our relationship more deeply before..." He stopped - that death was one he hadn't completely dealt with yet internally.
"I really need to hear it said," she whispered.
"Then you'll need to learn to listen with your heart," he replied softly, touching her on her sternum, "because I'm saying it as loudly as I can in all the ways that really matter."
"I really need to hear the words too," she countered, beginning to lean.
He gathered her into his arms and held her close. "The moment I know you're hearing it with your heart," he promised into her hair, "you'll start hearing the words too, often. Just wait and see."
"Please, Sydney," she begged. "Give me something to hold onto."
"I'm right here," he soothed gently. "You can hold onto me for as long as you need to. Feel this?" He tightened his hold on her, then felt her nod against him. "You can do that too, you know." Slowly her arms threaded themselves around him and she leaned into him with a sigh. "There, you see? Something - someone - to hang onto, anytime you need to." He held her close for a long and quiet moment. Then: "I'm not going anywhere, Parker. When you need to hold onto something, I'll be right here."
"Except when you have your weekly chess game," she countered, making a weak attempt at banter to break through the heavy emotionality of the moment.
"I never said that you couldn't come along - keep me company, and maybe kibbitz a bit..." He smiled with relief. Another crisis issue successfully lived through, more or less - and without a knock-down, drag-out fight. This time, at any rate - no doubt this jealousy, something he hadn't expected, stood a good chance of being revisiting more than once. At least it was out, now.
"Is that allowed?" Her question pulled him back to the discussion at hand.
"Not really, but I'm sure Paul would make an exception in your case. He has a soft spot for pretty faces."
"Paul?" He felt her stir, moving to pop the remaining shortbread into her mouth and then settle against him more comfortably while she chewed thoughtfully. "Your retired psychiatrist friend?" she asked finally.
The surprised chuckle built from within him. "Paul a psychiatrist? Not hardly! He's a professor of cultural anthropology at ASU. I met him at the clubhouse not long after I moved here."
"Is he old?"
"Mid to late forties, I think."
"Cute?"
Sydney bent his neck so he could look down at her face and saw the unexpected poignant smile there. She was trying to pull out of the blues into which their latest slogging through issues had gotten her. In that case... "Gee, Parker, I wouldn't know about that - I'm not generally attracted to men. You'll have to check him out for yourself and then tell ME."
She tsked at him for his trouble, making him chuckle again. Then: "Married?"
It was a moment before he answered her. "No." He tightened his hold on her. "Does it matter?"
She was silent for a moment - his question had been gently barbed and hit his target as if at point-blank range. "It didn't use to," she admitted, shifting again so that she was looking down and he could no longer see her face, "but it does now. I don't need to keep making the same mistakes anymore either."
"Good."
That small word of approval broke through the bubble of tension that had been building within her. Sydney had never been very reticent about chiding her when her behavior became too outrageous or improper - or her dress code too risqué. How had she missed those small demonstrations of caring before now - or why had she consistently chosen to see them as anything BUT his subtle way of saying he cared about her enough to least comment? Certainly Daddy had never bothered to lift even an eyebrow at her antics, despite her never having done any of those things for any reason except to catch his attention. And how much more this tiny word of approval in such matters now meant in light of that small revelation. Actions speaking louder than words indeed. He'd been talking to her that way for a very long time, it seemed. She just hadn't been listening.
She took a deep breath. "When's this chess game?"
"Tomorrow evening," he answered, catching the note of curiosity. "Seven-thirty."
"Maybe I will check out your clubhouse after all," she decided, then felt him tighten his arms around her just briefly.
"Good." He felt her sigh against him and relax, thoroughly contented just to be held close for the time being. "Feeling better now?"
She nodded. "I'm tired, and my legs will probably ache later, but I'm OK." She lay against his chest and listened as his heart beat steadily below her ear. Eventually she closed her eyes and let the warmth of his regard and his arms about her lull her into a light sleep.
Sydney smiled to himself as he felt her relax against him and knew her to be asleep. This is exactly what she needed - what she had always needed - and he would hold her for as long as she needed him to be there. Her journey to recovery - and his quest to reclaim the last of his children from the poison that was the Centre - had begun in earnest.
There would be NO turning back now.
Chapter 3: Echoes
Sydney felt a hand insinuate itself into the crook of his elbow and cling tightly as the other came over and joined it in surrounding his arm firmly. He looked over into Miss Parker's face, for a change utterly devoid of make up, and marveled that she still could nevertheless paint herself with the façade of Ice Queen with such ease. "Relax," he said to her softly. "You're safe here."
Her answer was to cling just a little more tightly. She looked around at the grass and the little running brook that trickled gently just to their left and felt that same nervousness she had experienced the afternoon before. They had spoken once more that morning over their breakfast of toast and coffee of the lack of pressure or expectations that she would have to get used to. It would take time to remember that all the things firmly associated with her former job that had defined her life for her for as long as she could remember were removed here. Last night, just before their argument, he'd made mention of the need to go through a kind of withdrawal from the Centre and the way it had dominated his own life. Here, in the open air of an Arizona morning, she was beginning to see how right he'd been.
"It doesn't feel like winter at all," she commented quietly, still marveling that the grass about them was green and lush, and the temperature on her lightly sweatered arm was comfortably warm as compared to the near deep-freeze she had left behind.
"I know," he rumbled at her, enjoying her sense of discovery almost as much as he'd enjoyed the discovery when he'd made it himself. "Now that I've been back to Delaware, I have to admit that I'm not going to miss the snow and ice much at all."
They moved to one side and allowed a person with in-line skates to swish on past them, looking remarkably business-like. Parker blinked and turned to stare after him. "Don't tell me..." she started.
"Some people around here actually do commute to work that way when the weather's decent," Sydney shrugged. "It took me a while to get used to that idea too."
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," she sighed and then pulled herself closer to his arm again with a shake of the head. "What's the name of this place again?"
"Indian Wash Park," he answered her and then gestured around them. "When it rains here - and believe me, it CAN rain very hard here - the wash serves as storm drainage for a good deal of this side of town. Other times, it's a park, a golf course, a skateboard area..." He patted her joined hands on his arm. "We'll only walk a little ways today. This thing stretches for miles, and I don't think you're good for more than a city block or so at the moment."
They walked silently for a while with her clinging tightly to him, and he marveled at the idea that Miss Parker was willing to be so demonstrably needy and dependent on him - especially after her painful demonstration of deep suspicion and distrust the night before. He thought about it for a bit while watching the blue jays in a bare palo verde tree, and saw where another cycle of vacillation was starting - a healthier one in terms of being closer to the root of her underlying issues, but another challenge needing careful management nonetheless. The swing between clinging desperately and then pushing away desperately would more than likely move roughly in tandem with and hopefully eventually replace the vacillation between lethargy and anger that was more a symptom of deep depression.
She had grown up an abused and love-starved child, only coddled when it served an agenda and then pushed away, disappointed or outright betrayed otherwise. The only time she'd actually begun to trust in the support of another, someone that had genuinely deserved her trust, Thomas had been murdered and stolen from her. It was obvious she needed the freedom to cling - to get all the hugs and love from him she'd been denied all these years by her father. But her defensive independence and self-reliance were habits that would be hard to break, and so they would more than likely reassert themselves abruptly and without warning or reason.
He would have to be ready and willing to offer her whatever tactile support she needed at any given moment - to provide the hugs and coddling and love whenever she asked or needed them with a firm constancy that would let his actions actually speak louder than words. He had told her the night before that he thought of her like a daughter; to prove it, he would have to give her a father's unconditional love unreservedly no matter what she threw at him. And yet at the same time, out of self-protection if nothing else, he would have to be ready to step back lovingly when she needed to prove to herself she could stand alone again.
Neither of them needed her to cultivate a co-dependence on him. He would far rather she build a healthier kind of independence and self-reliance that was natural, not defensive - one based on knowing through experience she COULD depend on him for love and support when the need was real...
"Syd?"
"Hmmm?" Her soft voice had broken through his musing.
"What am I going to DO while I'm here?" It had been a thought that had run through her head in the long moments before she'd arisen that morning.
"Eat, rest, relax, get better," he began listing, counting the items off on his fingers.
"No, really," she insisted. "I can't just sit around the house all day between meals - I'll go stir-crazy, and then you WILL have problems with me!"
"Well," he thought for a bit, inwardly pleased that she was - at least for the moment - thinking in such terms, "you DO have a couple of errands that you shouldn't put off for too long. You have to take the cashier's checks in and establish yourself in a bank here eventually, and you should probably consider applying for an Arizona driver's license before too long. There's also the fact that you haven't seen much of the area yet - and I did purchase a car when I got here. We can drive around and see what there is to see..."
She pointed to a picnic table under a tree near the little brook, and while Sydney seated himself sedately on the bench, she climbed a bit and sat down on the table itself next to and behind him. "What have YOU been doing with yourself since you moved here?" she asked, keeping physical contact by scooting so that her knee was pressing his shoulder.
"You don't believe that I could have just taken advantage of an opportunity to catch up on all the reading I'd not had a chance to do for years?" he asked in a light tone.
"Not for a whole six months straight," she admitted, leaning her elbows on her denim-clad knees and watching the water trickle past absently. "And I seriously doubt you've become addicted to watching soap operas all day long."
"Hardly." His tone was so disgusted that it made her smile for a moment, remembering the way they used to be able to banter carefully years ago. "It so happened that one of my classmates at medical school retired here a few years back," he told her after a pause where he framed his response carefully. "We got together about a month after I arrived, and he told me that he was doing some consulting for one of the public mental health offices on a limited basis. You know me, I can't resist wanting to help people," he patted her nearby knee gently, "so I found the nearest mental health office to my home and offered my services on a similarly limited basis."
"So you're working as a shrink again after all?" Miss Parker tipped her head and looked at his face.
He nodded very subtlely as he watched a raven preen itself. "I had a total of three patients that I was seeing on a semi-regular basis before my trip to the hospital. But I told the agency that I might not be available to do much for a while just before I traveled to Delaware. They've made arrangements for another shrink to take their cases until I call them and let them know I'm ready to go back to work." He tipped his head back so he could look at her. "As far as I'm concerned, right now YOU are my only concern."
"So I'm just another patient to you, then?" the grey eyes narrowed slightly.
He closed his eyes and breathed softly through his nose to retain his calm. Yes, here was the push away to go with the clinging, just as he expected. It's just a bad habit you need to help her break, he reminded himself, don't take it personally - except insofar as you can make a point with it. "I thought we'd agreed that you were going to give me time and a chance to demonstrate something quite a bit different from that," he chided softly. "Although speaking of patient, to be honest, I have never known to you be very patient - despite your promise last night to at least try."
His words, although spoken gently, were like a soft verbal slap. She had indeed promised to give him the benefit of the doubt and time to prove himself, and he was within his rights to remind her of that. "Oh God," she sighed and hung her head. "I'm doing it again."
"Yes, you are," he answered gently, "and you're forgiven." She was silent next to him, and finally he turned enough to smooth a hand across her hunched back a couple of times. "C'mon," he urged at her without a shift in his tone of voice, "let's head back. I think you've had enough for now." He rose from his seat and turned, extending his hand to her. "C'mon, Parker. Let's go home."
"I'm going to hurt you again, I just know it," she murmured softly, not moving or looking up at him. "I don't know how NOT to."
Sydney reached out and grasped one of her dangling hands and pulled, succeeding in at least getting her to look at him again. "C'mon now," he urged again and then reached out with the other hand and captured her other free hand and helped her from her perch back to the ground. "Look, after last night, I don't have any illusions here. I have a pretty good idea what I'm in for," he told her in a voice he hoped conveyed confidence. He tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow and turned them both around so that they could begin retracing their steps back to the condominium complex. It wasn't long before she had brought her other hand around and encircled his forearm completely, her grasp tight and sure. "It's OK," he soothed, putting his other hand over her two and patting them. "We'll get through this."
The walk back to the apartment took a little longer than the walk out as Miss Parker's still-meager store of energy began to run out a little ahead of schedule. Soon the grasp on the arm was as much for physical support as it was for moral support. Sydney stopped their movement once more, not far from the complex, so that she could again sit at a convenient bench and catch her breath. He seated himself patiently next to her and rubbed her back while she struggled to breathe normally again.
"This is ridiculous," she grumbled at herself.
"No, we went further than we should have the first day," he countered, continuing to rub her back soothingly. "I overestimated your stamina. We won't go quite so far tomorrow."
"But you need the walk too..." she complained.
"I'm doing fine, don't worry about me." He looked forward to the distance between where they were and the gate into the condominium complex. "Better?" he asked, leaning forward to look into her face.
"Yeah."
"Then let's get you home and resting again," he said, rising and extending his hand so that she could have help getting to her feet again. "Slowly now."
"I can remember when I used to be able to walk for miles," she chided herself bitterly, "and not even notice the effort."
"Yes, and you were in top form and used to eat more healthily in those days too, I'd wager," he countered as her hands sought out their now-familiar niche on his arm and leaned on him. "This is another area where you're going to have to be patient, Parker - only with yourself this time. Give yourself some time to get your strength back before you start knocking yourself for what you can or can't do."
"I'm a mess," she sighed, thoroughly disgusted with herself when she almost tripped because she wasn't lifting her feet quite as high as she needed to. "How did I let myself get into this shape?"
Sydney decided that the best course was to not respond any further, but let her vent at herself for a bit. At least now she had had her depleted physical condition brought home to her in a way that hopefully assured her continued cooperation in her own recovery on that account. Instead, he again put his hand on hers on his arm and patted her soothingly as he felt her lean on him just a little bit more.
But with that final grumble, the rest of the walk took place in a companionable silence again, with her focusing on keeping her feet firmly beneath her and moving steadily. They paused at the bottom of the stairs up to the condo, and Miss Parker was glad she was wearing denim when she sat herself down on the steps tiredly. "You're a cardiac patient, and you live on a second floor walk up?" she asked him with a wry and disbelieving tone.
"Yes, well, I bought this place before my heart began to give me grief," he answered, leaning on the banister next to her. "These stairs were half the reason the doctor kept me in the hospital an extra day - he didn't want me working that hard quite so soon. But now I'm glad I have them - they help me keep in shape."
"OK, so you have a part-time psychiatric practice now. What else do you do with your time?" she pressed as she leaned her elbows on her knees again.
"There are my weekly chess games at the club house here at the complex," he listed. "That reminds me. Once you start to feel a little better, there is an exercise gym at the clubhouse, and a schedule of some Tai Chi and aerobics classes that you can join. There's also a swimming pool, which is really nice on hot evenings to relax."
"God, I got tired just listening to you list all that," she said, a smile dulling the sharpness of her words.
He smiled back. "There's enough to do here that I doubt that you'll find yourself bored for long."
"Retirement community?"
"Not at all," he shook his head. "A few of the residents have children, but there are strict noise abatement rules and designated playgrounds for the younger ones."
"And some of these people are your friends?" she asked, curious. "The people you called last night to tell that you were back again?"
"Yes."
She got to her feet again. "I think that until I have got some of my endurance back, I'll wait on visiting your clubhouse."
"I hope you won't take it amiss if I return to my previous schedule, however," he queried as he moved to her side and put a hand at her elbow to help her up the stairs. "One of the things I like most about living here is that I finally have people with whom to play chess regularly again. I haven't had that since..."
"Jarod left," she finished for him with a dry tone.
"Well..."
She narrowed her eyes. "Of course, you never ASKED anybody else..."
"You think not?" He was surprised at her tone. "I had a chessboard set up somewhere in the Sim Lab the entire time you and I worked together looking for Jarod - and I can remember several times when I was either working out a chess problem or simply playing a game with myself as opponent in your presence. I assumed that you didn't play anymore when you never ever even offered a move. Even Broots and I would play a game every once in a while, or he'd kibbitz when I would be working a problem..."
"I always figured that you wouldn't be satisfied with any opponent less masterful than Jarod," she said quietly as she waited for him to open the door for her. "After playing against a genius constantly for years, you must be a master."
"Did you know that Angelo played?" he asked her with a smile, stepping aside so she could go past him and through the door. "And played surprisingly well at that? I didn't, until after Jarod left, that is. I was working a problem, and he came down out of his vent and made the next move for me - and it was brilliant..."
"God, Sydney!" She turned and was standing there, shaking her head at him, half angry now. "It was always Angelo or Jarod with you, wasn't it? Why was it OK for you to ask Angelo to play, or even Broots, but you never bothered to think that I'd be interested?"
Sydney stared at her, then closed the door behind them. "Parker! Are you listening to yourself? Think, woman! You would breeze in and out of the Sim Lab like this busy corporate executive, only spending just enough time to either give orders, intimidate someone or get information before you were out the door again. Just WHEN did you expect me to invite you to a nice, leisurely game of chess, eh?" He stalked over to her, his hands at his hips. "Just tell me what your reaction would have been if I'd walked up to you - perhaps while Lyle was standing there - and asked, “Pardon me, Miss Parker, but would you be interested in a nice game of chess after work?”? Or should I have waited until after you had just bullied Broots into five more years' worth of prematurely grey hair to offer you a chance to relax over a chessboard?"
"Did you even THINK about it once?" she shot back, stung by the image he'd painted for her.
"No." There was no candy-coating that truth. "Once you came back from corporate, you had made it very plain that you wanted nothing to do with anybody other than your father outside of work. After all, we did not socialize, you and I, after your father sent you away to school. If you hadn't noticed, playing a game with someone requires a certain level of socialization with that person."
"What about NOW?" she demanded.
"What ABOUT now?" he retorted. "Now that I know you play, and that you would enjoy sitting down to a game, I'm sure we will play - and probably play often. Does that mean I can't enjoy my games with my other friends too, though?"
"No..."
"Do you honestly think that just because I spent time with Angelo and Jarod over the years - and considerably more of those years with them than with you for many, MANY reasons - I didn't enjoy your company when you WERE around? Did I ignore you back then?"
"Not exactly," she answered, feeling pushed into a corner where she would have to really LOOK at what had made her so unhappy. "It's just..." Her words ground to a halt.
"Just what?"
She looked at him, having swung away from her anger suddenly and suddenly defenseless. "It's just that it never seemed fair to me that you spent all that time with Jarod, teaching him, leading him, caring for him... and then later with Angelo, trying to reach him, to work past the damage Raines caused... and yet Daddy never ever spent a fraction..." She blinked hard, her eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. "And then you never even wrote to me after I was sent to school..."
Sydney gaped again. "You WANTED me to write to you after you went away? Did it ever occur to you that it would have helped if you had written first, so I'd have known where to send a reply?"
The finely arched brows slid toward the center of her brow as the anger returned. "What do you mean, IF I had written first? What about all those letters I DID write, telling you how lonely I was in Switzerland with nobody who wanted to speak my language with me... I waited and waited, but you never answered them..."
"WHAT letters?" Sydney frowned and stepped forward. "Parker, I didn't GET any letters - not at the house, and not at the Lab. I was hoping to, considering that you and I were on friendly terms when you left - not to mention your friendship with Jarod and Angelo. I swear I watched for them carefully for months. But after a while, I figured your life had taken you in a different direction that didn't include us..."
His tone forced her to look carefully at him and see that he was genuinely telling her the truth and was upset at hearing that she had written after all. Here was another cause of so much pain and anguish over the years, suddenly exposed for the illusion it actually was. He HADN'T received the plaintive cries for help from a very homesick little girl - he HADN'T just ignored her at one of the worst times in her life. "That bastard," she hissed, squeezing her eyes closed at yet a new piece of evidence of the way she had been manipulated and betrayed by the man who had claimed her paternity. In a way, she was glad she wasn't his daughter really, now... Not that Raines was any more acceptable...
"He must have had the mail watched both at your school and at the Centre, so that no word from you made it to the Sim Lab. I have a hunch that he would have made sure no word from us made it back to you either." He used the back of his fingers to stroke her cheek gently. "My God, Parker! I didn't know. I swear to you..."
"Damn him!" she spat softly, then more loudly: "Damn him to Hell. Damn them all! Why? Why couldn't I have just ONE person allowed close? Why couldn't I have just ONE friend..." She slowly walked away from Sydney into the living room and crumpled dejectedly finally into a corner of the couch. "All this time, I thought you had just been too busy with Jarod, that you forgot I was even alive the moment I wasn't right there in front of you." She curled up, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up onto the cushion so she could hug her knees to her chest defensively.
Sydney took advantage of her movement and physical withdrawal to head quickly to the kitchen and retrieve two of the small squares of shortbread from the plate that still sat in the middle of his table. He came back out to the living room, sat down on the couch next to her, then tapped one of her clasped hands with his until she finally was convinced to look at him. He held out the hand, and eventually she uncurled enough so that she put out an open palm to receive his offering. "Here, these will give you a little energy boost - I think you need it."
"I even asked him about it, one time when he came to visit," she continued while nibbling obediently but absently on one of the shortbread cubes. "He told me that your work with Jarod had reached a very exciting and delicate stage - and that you just didn't have the time to deal with simple homesickness. He told me that homesickness was a weakness that we Parkers didn't show unless we were defective. He made me feel so guilty for feeling the way I did..."
"Christ!" Sydney shook his head at the blatancy of the lie and the cruelty of the manipulation she'd endured. "My work with Jarod was never more or less exciting or delicate from one day to the next for over thirty years. And I most certainly WOULD have been very happy to write back to you, had I known you had written. And I would have written quite often had I known how lonesome you were there."
"Did he EVER do anything but lie to me, Sydney?" she asked plaintively, swallowing the rest of the first cube and feeling the sweetness pull the dryness from her mouth.
He shook his head again. "I honestly don't know," he told her sadly. "From everything we've discovered, though, I hate to say that I suspect not."
She turned wide and vulnerable grey eyes to him that still held a healthy helping of skepticism and suspicion in their depths. "You aren't going to lie to me anymore, are you?"
"No, I'm not," he told her firmly. "Even if the truth is painful to us both, I will not lie to you - either by commission or omission. You've had too much of that - it's time you got used to hearing the unvarnished truth when all I can offer you is words. Where actions are concerned, however, I'm thinking that eventually you'll be able to pick out the truth for yourself. That's why I asked for time."
"You really didn't get my letters?" Her voice was small.
He shook his head sadly. "No, Parker, I really didn't get them."
"You really didn't love Jarod and Angelo more than me?"
Chestnut eyes blinked in muted surprise, then half-closed as he framed his response carefully. "The answer to that one depends. If you quantify love as equal to the time spent in the company of a person, I can't help but say that I had no choice but to love them more. After all, your father sent you away to school for a very long time, then kept you at the corporate office long after that." It was a truth, and not a comfortable one. Miss Parker's eyes looked down at the last cube of shortbread in her hand until Sydney's hand at her chin raised her gaze again to his. "But if you quantify love as a measure of the fondness a person feels in here for another," he pointed to his chest, "then I'd have to say no. I loved you no more and no less than I did Jarod or Angelo. You three were the closest I was ever going to get to having children of my own - I loved you each differently, and I couldn't be open about it to any of you, but I loved you all very much."
"Do you still love me, even after all the things I've ever said and done that..."
"Parker," he interrupted, putting a finger on her lips to still her words, "I went back to Delaware to find you and bring you back with me so I could be the one to help you regain your health and build a new life. I've given you return tickets - the freedom to stay or leave as you choose - and not obligated you here at all. I've told you that I think of you as a daughter, and I asked for a chance to let my actions show that I mean what I say. So, what do you think?"
That was almost as good as an admission - but not quite. A tear swam. "Why won't you say it?"
"Because," he answered softly, letting his hand hold her cheek again, "if I said it now, it would still be just words. Your father told you he loved you too, over and over again - did his actions prove his words?" He waited until she shook her head slightly. "Then you see why I refuse to do things the way he did."
"Is it that you can say it to Jarod, and not to me?" The tear hit the cheek.
"No," he replied, using a thumb to wipe away the tear, "I never said it to Jarod either - because I always thought that if I did, I would hold him back from finding his real family eventually. I loved him too much to ever let that happen - and I know he will resent never hearing it from me for as long as he lives, and that's a pain that will never go away. If he finds his family, however, then that pain will be worth it."
"And Angelo?"
He smiled softly. "Angelo already knew - the same way Angelo knew so many things. With him, words weren't necessary."
"What about Nicholas?"
He looked up at her again, startled. "I admit I felt a father's pride in Nicholas - in his accomplishments and in the kind of man he turned out to be - but it wasn't the same kind of love I felt for you three. He was my biological son - but I had no part in his childhood. We never had the time to explore our relationship more deeply before..." He stopped - that death was one he hadn't completely dealt with yet internally.
"I really need to hear it said," she whispered.
"Then you'll need to learn to listen with your heart," he replied softly, touching her on her sternum, "because I'm saying it as loudly as I can in all the ways that really matter."
"I really need to hear the words too," she countered, beginning to lean.
He gathered her into his arms and held her close. "The moment I know you're hearing it with your heart," he promised into her hair, "you'll start hearing the words too, often. Just wait and see."
"Please, Sydney," she begged. "Give me something to hold onto."
"I'm right here," he soothed gently. "You can hold onto me for as long as you need to. Feel this?" He tightened his hold on her, then felt her nod against him. "You can do that too, you know." Slowly her arms threaded themselves around him and she leaned into him with a sigh. "There, you see? Something - someone - to hang onto, anytime you need to." He held her close for a long and quiet moment. Then: "I'm not going anywhere, Parker. When you need to hold onto something, I'll be right here."
"Except when you have your weekly chess game," she countered, making a weak attempt at banter to break through the heavy emotionality of the moment.
"I never said that you couldn't come along - keep me company, and maybe kibbitz a bit..." He smiled with relief. Another crisis issue successfully lived through, more or less - and without a knock-down, drag-out fight. This time, at any rate - no doubt this jealousy, something he hadn't expected, stood a good chance of being revisiting more than once. At least it was out, now.
"Is that allowed?" Her question pulled him back to the discussion at hand.
"Not really, but I'm sure Paul would make an exception in your case. He has a soft spot for pretty faces."
"Paul?" He felt her stir, moving to pop the remaining shortbread into her mouth and then settle against him more comfortably while she chewed thoughtfully. "Your retired psychiatrist friend?" she asked finally.
The surprised chuckle built from within him. "Paul a psychiatrist? Not hardly! He's a professor of cultural anthropology at ASU. I met him at the clubhouse not long after I moved here."
"Is he old?"
"Mid to late forties, I think."
"Cute?"
Sydney bent his neck so he could look down at her face and saw the unexpected poignant smile there. She was trying to pull out of the blues into which their latest slogging through issues had gotten her. In that case... "Gee, Parker, I wouldn't know about that - I'm not generally attracted to men. You'll have to check him out for yourself and then tell ME."
She tsked at him for his trouble, making him chuckle again. Then: "Married?"
It was a moment before he answered her. "No." He tightened his hold on her. "Does it matter?"
She was silent for a moment - his question had been gently barbed and hit his target as if at point-blank range. "It didn't use to," she admitted, shifting again so that she was looking down and he could no longer see her face, "but it does now. I don't need to keep making the same mistakes anymore either."
"Good."
That small word of approval broke through the bubble of tension that had been building within her. Sydney had never been very reticent about chiding her when her behavior became too outrageous or improper - or her dress code too risqué. How had she missed those small demonstrations of caring before now - or why had she consistently chosen to see them as anything BUT his subtle way of saying he cared about her enough to least comment? Certainly Daddy had never bothered to lift even an eyebrow at her antics, despite her never having done any of those things for any reason except to catch his attention. And how much more this tiny word of approval in such matters now meant in light of that small revelation. Actions speaking louder than words indeed. He'd been talking to her that way for a very long time, it seemed. She just hadn't been listening.
She took a deep breath. "When's this chess game?"
"Tomorrow evening," he answered, catching the note of curiosity. "Seven-thirty."
"Maybe I will check out your clubhouse after all," she decided, then felt him tighten his arms around her just briefly.
"Good." He felt her sigh against him and relax, thoroughly contented just to be held close for the time being. "Feeling better now?"
She nodded. "I'm tired, and my legs will probably ache later, but I'm OK." She lay against his chest and listened as his heart beat steadily below her ear. Eventually she closed her eyes and let the warmth of his regard and his arms about her lull her into a light sleep.
Sydney smiled to himself as he felt her relax against him and knew her to be asleep. This is exactly what she needed - what she had always needed - and he would hold her for as long as she needed him to be there. Her journey to recovery - and his quest to reclaim the last of his children from the poison that was the Centre - had begun in earnest.
There would be NO turning back now.
