All I'll Ever Need

by Mildred Riley

  The love she shared with this man was the love she needed to sustain her life. “It’s the present,” he’d said to her. “The past robs one of life, can hold you back, even drag you deep into despair. Life is to be lived, and living means the ‘here and now.’ ”

  As she felt the secure warmth of his mouth against hers, she realized that Ace was right. It was the moment that mattered, and she was fortunate to share it with Ace Brimmer.

  She trembled in his arms; the warm breath of his whispers in her ear chased away any lingering doubts she might have had. His words were a song of love.

  “My darling, tell me it is real to you, what you truly want in your life. I love you and always will, now and forever.”

  “I love you, too, Ace. You are all I’ll ever need in my life.”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Got no more time for emotions, dear sir. Still have more work to do.”

  “Don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see,” Ace responded in a firm voice. “I won’t have it any other way.”

  * * *

  The Rev. Talb ot Brimmer, Ace’s great-uncle, his grandfather’s younger brother, had agreed to come out of retirement as an Episcopal priest to preside over the wedding.

  A tall, dignified-looking figure, his snow-white hair formed a stark contrast to his tobacco-tan skin.

  “As your only living relative, it would be my honor and pleasure to preside at your nuptial,” he said when Ace asked him to preside. He told Ace, too, that though it was a bit unusual, he had no objections to their writing their own vows, “within limits,” he’d said with a warm smile.

  The music school located near Ace’s art store was able to recommend some senior students who regularly hired out as musicians for local gigs, weddings, parties, dances and the like. Ace asked for a cellist, violinist, saxophonist and drummer. He met with them, all males, and was pleased when they performed for him. After their audition, he gave them a list of the music he’d like to be played but also told them that requests from the guests would be okay, especially for dancing after the luncheon. His only request was to have Beethoven’s “Für Elise” played as the bride came down the aisle.

  * * *

  There was one bit of business that Elyse knew she had to face. Finally the DNA results had arrived, proving that Holly was Barry’s daughter. She wondered about inviting the girl to her wedding. She wondered, too, if knowing she was Barry’s child, Holly might want to become involved with a new family.

  Elyse sat down at her desk. Someone, she suspected it was Emerald, had moved Barry’s picture. That chapter of my life is over, she thought.

  She reached into her desk drawer for a sheet of her personal writing paper, then began to write. She would take Ace’s suggestion and send the invitation. It would be Holly’s decision, might even offer a hint of their future relationship. Indeed, Elyse thought, if there is to be one.

  Dear Holly, she wrote.

  * * *

  When Holly finished her psychiatric rotation at Western New England Hospital, Branch drove out to the facility to return her to her apartment.

  He had four months left to complete his program as a physician’s assistant and he was already putting out feelers for a job, perhaps with one of the surgeons he knew. Holly had less time in school than he had. She would complete her work in a little over two months. Then she planned on studying for her board certification to become a registered nurse.

  They had worked hard, each of them, he thought, and God willing, they would have a happy future together. As he drove along the road, passing open fields, dairy farms, truck farms that sold produce at roadside stands and chicken farms, he noticed a sign indicating that Andes Llamas were raised at that farm and clothing such as sweaters, scarves, hats and mittens could be purchased there. He even spotted a few of the exotic animals lined up against a fence, peering out at the cars speeding by.

  He had passed Fort Devens, now closed, the post that had served as an induction center for many young men entering the military during World War II.

  Branch’s dad had been one of them, had been born and raised in Haverhill, Massachusetts, and many of his classmates, especially in high school, were sons of immigrant parents, mainly French-Canadians or Italians. They had played football, basketball and baseball in high school, so it was a given that upon graduating from school they would all join the army, “be buddies for life,” they had agreed.

  As he drove past the army base, Branch thought about his father, who had advised him, “Do whatever you can to make a decent life for yourself and the family you will have someday.” He had never forgotten that advice. Branch hoped that by becoming professionals in the medical field both he and Holly could have a decent future.

  Summer stretched ahead of them and Branch could hardly wait to spend time with Holly at the beach, or take short trips in his old car. Maybe after his course of studies was complete, he’d buy a used SUV. He smiled to himself wondering what Holly would think of that idea.

  She seemed to be enjoying her life so much more than before. She was very enthusiastic about her classes, seemed more hopeful about her future. He wanted to give her a ring, a “friendship” ring, he told her, but she’d said no, she didn’t need a ring. He was her friend, he knew that, but she had added, “Let’s see how we stand after we finish up. Then maybe . . .”

  A few weeks back, Holly had said, “You know, Branch, my psych rotation is nearly over and I have to tell you I have learned a lot.”

  “Honest?”

  “Yes, honest. At first I didn’t like it at all. I couldn’t understand the patients’ illnesses . . . how a patient’s caregiver has to appreciate the small, baby-like steps many patients have to take towards recovery.”

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  “It was, but then I decided that if I was going to be an effective nurse . . . a patient advocate, I needed to care for the individual, no matter what illness the patient had, be it in his mind, his heart, his belly . . . if he was ailing anywhere in his body, his life, that alone would have to be my paramount concern, to help him heal. After I made that decision, everything began to fall into place.”

  “That must have made things easier for you,” he said to her.

  “You could say that, I guess. Seems to me, from what I’ve learned, the choices we make give us our experiences and shape our lives.”

  Branch returned his thoughts to the present as he reached the hospital. He followed the road signs pointing to the administration building and visitors’ parking.

  Holly was waiting in the lobby. She had one suitcase, a duffle bag and a briefcase.

  “Hi, Holly!” He pecked her cheek and then bent down to pick up the suitcase and duffle bag. “This is it? All you have?”

  “Yes, Branch. I shipped some stuff to my apartment last week, books ‘n stuff, you know. My landlady is holding them until I get home. How are you doing? Thanks so much for coming to get me.”

  “My pleasure, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He led her to his car, stowed her bags and her briefcase in the trunk, opened the passenger side door for her, then got into the driver’s seat.

  “Seatbelt fastened?”

  “Yes, it is, but would you mind, Branch? You’re not in a hurry, are you?”

  “Why, no, not at all. What’s up?”

  She reached into her handbag and pulled out a white business-sized envelope.

  “This came two days ago, but I wanted to have you with me when I opened it.”

  “What is it?”

  Then he saw the return address in the upper left-hand corner indicating it was from the lab. The DNA results, he thought. He waited for her to open it.

  Holly placed her handbag on the floor between her feet. She ran her left thumb beneath the flap and took out a folded sheet of paper. Before she read the contents, she looked over at Branch. He was moved when he saw the glistening moisture of tears in her dark eyes.


  “Oh, honey.” He reached for her, loosening his seat-belt as he did so. “You will always be special to me! I don’t care whose daughter you are! King Tut’s, Attila the Hun’s, or Barry Marshall’s! You are the woman I love and want to spend my life with you, Holly Francis! That piece of paper doesn’t mean squat to us. Not a thing! Do you hear me? Understand?”

  Holly nodded wordlessly. The tears plopped down her cheeks and she sniffed as she read the letter.

  “Well, what does it say?” Branch asked.

  “It’s . . . it’s a match. I’m Barry Marshall’s biological daughter,” she whispered in a slow, husky voice as if she didn’t really believe her eyes.

  “May I see?”

  He took the piece of paper from her shaking hands and silently read its contents.

  “Babe, how do you feel now that you know the truth?”

  “Don’t know . . . how to feel.”

  “If you could, what would you ask him?”

  “Why? Just . . . why?”

  Her eyes misted over again. She tried to explain.

  “It wasn’t that he was not there for school plays, class outings, father-daughter things, to sign my report card. It wasn’t just that! He wasn’t there at all, not one single day of my life! And I don’t want anyone, including his widow, telling me how wonderful he was! He wasn’t wonderful at all! He denied me . . . wanted nothing, nothing to do with me!”

  Branch took Holly’s hand, drew her close to his chest, rested his chin on the top of her head. He spoke softly and slowly.

  “Holly, he was only eighteen. He loved your mother, and you were born, thank God, out of that love. At eighteen, he was bewildered and confused by the heavy responsibility he knew he could not handle. You have to forgive him. He was only doing his best. He gave you life. He loved you.”

  Branch pointed out that that letter from Cambridge Laboratory stated a copy of the DNA test results had been sent to Elyse Marshall.

  * * *

  Branch helped Holly collect her stored belongings from the landlady. Now that school was over, she was moving back into her third floor loft apartment.

  Holly said, “Branch, I’m too frazzled to go out and eat, and there’s nothing to eat here. Would you mind if we ordered something. Pizza, maybe?”

  “I understand, hon. Why don’t I go to the store and pick up dinner? Maybe fried chicken, rice pilaf, broccoli and some dessert. Would you like iced tea as well?”

  “Oh, Branch, sounds mighty good to me!”

  “Be back in a jiffy!”

  While Branch was out, Holly decided to go through her mail. There was the usual plethora of junk mail, grocery store flyers announcing their usual weekend sales, advertisements for windows, floors, siding for the home, assorted bills she had to pay—she’d look at them later— and she noticed, too, a few letters from credit card companies offering her large, unthinkable lines of credit. She knew very well what she would do with them.

  Then she spotted a cream-colored envelope. The sender’s name in the corner was Elyse J. Marshall. What does she want? Holly thought as she tore open the thick envelope. Inside she found a folded handwritten note.

  Dear Holly, she read. First of all, I want to let you know that I have received the information from the Cambridge lab. I assume you have been notified as well. I wanted to call you, but thought I should give you some time. I want you to know that I am happy with the news, and I hope for a bright future for all of us as a family, if that would please you.

  Ace and I are going to be married on June twenty-second, at Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard. We both want you and Branch to come. Will you call me so that I can give you information about the ferry schedule and accommodations? We will be able to put you both up for the weekend. I do hope you can come. Always, Elyse. P.S. Missy is standing up now.

  Holly held the note in her hand, wondering how Elyse really felt, learning that her husband had fathered a child before he married her, and had kept that information from her. And why had he prevailed upon her to have his child, after his death? And why had she done so? Holly thought it must have been a stunning blow to Elyse to find out the truth of Holly’s existence. Elyse must have felt that she really knew the man she had loved and married, Holly decided.

  How would I feel under circumstances like those that she has been through? She thought back to the look she had seen on Elyse’s face the night she saw the resemblance between Missy and her. It was a look of bewilderment, disbelief and shock. Holly knew she would never forget that moment. Lives were altered, never to be the same for any of them. The dynamics of an action that began twenty-two years before spun with extraordinary force to affect changes in the lives of Holly, Branch, Elyse, Ace, Missy . . . even Emerald and Elyse’s parents. And Holly knew, too, that the act, like a stone dropped into a body of water, caused unknown ripples far afield. Even as she interacted with her patients in years to come, Holly knew her own personal past history would somehow be reflected in her interactions with them.

  When Branch returned home from the store, Holly handed him the letter.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Read it,” she said and she began to set the kitchen table and place the cartons of hot food on the counter. She got serving utensils from the counter drawer and she poured the iced tea into glasses which she set at their places. Then she looked over at Branch.

  “So, what do you think? Should we go to the wedding?”

  Branch pursed his lips and was silent for a moment before answering.

  “You know, hon, it’s your decision, but you are asking me what I think. And I say go. None of these things that have happened have anything to do with you. But since the facts show that you are a member of this family, you have every right to be part of it, however much you choose to be. But I wouldn’t just close the door entirely. So, I say go and ‘play it as it lays,’ as the gambler said.”

  Holly was standing at the kitchen counter. She had opened the various containers of food so that she and Branch could serve themselves. Steam, fragrant from the enticing odors of the chicken, rose up in the small room.

  Branch saw the uncertainty in her face as she listened to his reasoning. Her dark, curly hair framed her lovely face. He wanted so much for her to be happy and he hoped these moments would somehow ease her unsettled mind.

  “Look,” he continued, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, school, your job at the nursing home, even though it’s part-time, and you are trying to study for your nationals, but you have to look forward to a life of your own.”

  He put Elyse’s letter on top of the stack of mail that Holly had set on top of her briefcase on the counter. Standing beside her, he accepted the plate she offered and began to make his selections. He was hungry, hadn’t eaten since early morning. He picked out a chicken thigh and drumstick, a helping of hot rice, some buttered stalks of broccoli and a buttered roll. Then he sat at the table and waited for her.

  When she joined him, he reached for her hand, wanting more than anything to take her in his arms . . . to love her, comfort her and do everything in his power to see to her every need.

  “You know, don’t you, Holly, how much I love you? Since the day we met at school, I have thought of nothing but your happiness. I know life has not been easy for you, but I admire the way you’ve made it on your own . . .”

  “Well, Branch,” she smiled shyly, “you’ve helped me. Couldn’t have made it at all without you.”

  “Only trying to help,” he interrupted. “And I still say let’s go to the wedding. You’ve been invited, which means you’re wanted.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Branch.” She took a sip of her tea, picked up her fork and began to eat.

  Branch joined her, thinking as he took a forkful of the steaming rice, God help me, help her.

  * * *

  “How are you doing, Mr. Harkins? Behaving yourself?” Holly greeted her patient the next morning.

  “Now why would I do anything like behavin’?
Girl, this old man got lots of tricks up his sleeve!” he teased, delighted to see her.

  And she was equally pleased to see him. His all-over health seemed to have improved, his copper-hued skin was shiny and clear, even his walking had improved. He no longer needed his walker, but used only his cane to help him walk.

  Holly had begun to see this elderly man as a dear friend, someone who cared about her and someone she had someone to care for.

  She decided to confide in him.

  “Would you like to go into the sitting room?” she suggested. “I’m off duty now and Branch is going to pick me up later, so we can be comfortable in there.”

  “Don’t see why not,” the old man agreed. “You still seein’ that young fella from the operatin’ room?”

  “We’re kinda close, you might say.” She smiled as she helped him stand and gave him his cane. They headed down the hall to the all-purpose sitting room of Prime Care.

  Holly found two comfortable chairs in a quiet corner.

  Prime Care’s visitors’ sitting room contained several vending machines. Holly selected a Coke for Mr. Harkins and a ginger ale for herself.

  “I know you remember my gramma, Theodora Francis,” she began.

  “Sure do,” he murmured. “One fine woman.”

  “Yes, she was. She and my momma raised me. Never knew my father.”

  “That so?”

  “Yes, and that really bothered me for a long time. Still does, in a way.”

  “I can understand that. Everybody wants to belong to somebody.”

  “That’s exactly how I felt, Mr. Harkins. I knew that my mother and grandmother loved me, but what about the man who should have been part of my life?”

  “You do know, child,” Mr. Harkins said quietly, “you’re not the first somebody who didn’t know their daddy . . .”

  “I know that, but when I was about nine my gramma told me that she had prevented my father from giving me away, I really became angry and bitter. I believe that’s when I decided I would show him and everybody else that I was somebody, not some nobody to be thrown aside!”

  Mr. Harkins, wise in years, wanted to help Holly. He realized that her venting of what she perceived to be a stumbling block in her life was really the catalyst that had transformed her into a strong young woman. Stronger than even she recognized. But he did. He watched the ripple of emotions cross over her youthful but sober face and he listened.