by Trisha Baker
Of course, times had changed. Simon wasn't going to force his daughter into an arranged marriage. The girl would pick her own spouse from the young men Simon had chosen among his mortal colleagues. All the bachelors on his list were well educated, handsome, impeccably mannered and heirs to vast fortunes, for Simon well expected any young man marrying into the family to bring a suitable dowry in exchange for the extraordinary bride and immortality he'd receive.
"Dipshit!" Elizabeth shouted in annoyance at the radio and then colored profoundly at her father's censuring glare. "Sorry, Daddy. It's just this godda... I mean, idiot of a relief pitcher gave up a grand slam and the Mets lost the game."
Elizabeth might as well have been speaking in tongues for all the meaning Simon could derive from her explanation for the foul mouth she must have inherited from Meghann, who had no end to the sordid phrases she employed to express rage. Was it too much too hope for that Meghann would have curbed her tongue around their impressionable child? Elizabeth wasn't the only one Simon planned to reprimand this evening.
"Your language is not becoming to a young lady," Simon said sternly and saw the same irritated submission and stung dignity that always bloomed on Meghann's face when he rebuked her. "You are far too intelligent and I hope well-bred to employ the vocabulary of gutter people."
A brief, indecipherable darkening of Meghann's cat eyes was Elizabeth's only response before she shut the radio off and selected a CD that restored good humor to the car.
"You enjoy this music?" Simon questioned as Count Basie pounded out a frenetic swing tune, thankful Elizabeth didn't torture his eardrums with any of that ghastly rock music.
"Mom plays Big Band all the time," Ellie said. "She said that on your first date, you went to the Stork Club and danced to swing ... and you were the best dancer she ever met in her life."
"Is that what caught her interest?" Simon laughed, remembering the girl who'd moved over the dance floor with the poise and tiny, perfectly molded body of a prima ballerina. "So this music has captivated you from childhood? Do young people still dance nowadays?"
"Not really," Ellie said, her tone expressing mild indignation at her own graceless generation. "But there are a few swing clubs I like to go to sometimes. Uncle Charles and Mom like to go sometimes and I tag along. You should see them together . . . they've won prizes for their dancing!"
As Uncle Charles was Meghann's beloved but homosexual friend Charles Tarleton, Simon shared Elizabeth's warm adulation for their combined skill. "And who do you dance with, Elizabeth?"
"Uncle Charles, of course," Elizabeth said. "Uncle Lee comes, too, but he hates dancing. And you know . . . some other boys there . . .Jimmy if he's staying with us . . ." Elizabeth broke off abruptly, giving her father an apprehensive glance at her unthinking, flippant mention of Meghann's former lover.
"Jimmy Delacroix?" Simon said in a carefully neutral tone, not wanting to alarm his daughter, particularly while she was driving. "He visits your mother?"
"Well, all of us," Elizabeth clarified, giving her father a beseeching glance. "You know, he and Mom are just friends. There's never been any..."
"Elizabeth," Simon broke in. "I have complete faith in your mother and her desire to honor our wedding vows." Simon meant what he said—he believed in Meghann's integrity, knew her interest in the annoying Delacroix creature was no more than pity for a fumbling, morose dolt that couldn't survive without some strong willed woman (Meghann, for instance) propping him up.
Besides, as long as Meghann held the man at arm's length, Simon would not only forgive but applaud her for keeping her former lover close by . . . even she probably did not realize how thoroughly she'd deflected any suspicion on their foes' part by her seeming alliance with Jimmy Delacroix.
"Daddy?"
"You must excuse me, Elizabeth," Simon said apologetically. "I was wool-gathering. What did you say?"
"I was asking if you think Mom was right," Elizabeth said, her tone of voice implying only a fool or a long- absent father not bent on remaining in his daughter's good graces would take Meghann's side against hers. "Surely once I'm earning my own living next fall, I should be allowed to have an apartment of my own and not live at home like some baby."
Simon smothered a laugh at the indignant little wrinkle in his daughter's nose and arched eyebrows meeting in a ferocious scowl—Meghann's classic expression in a temper. "Artistic achievement and superior intellect does not change the fact that you are far too young to live away from home. Your mother is quite right."
"Besides," he continued in a mollifying tone, "You told me Meghann and Dr. Winslow have given you a home of your own in the guest cottage. You can entertain, and set your own hours—within reason, of course. What more could you want?"
A sulky shrug was Elizabeth's response—plainly she'd wanted an ally in her quest for independence but Simon had no intention of contradicting Meghann's directives, particularly when he was in accord with them.
Soon, Elizabeth pulled off the Sunrise Highway and they became silent, breathing in the fresh salt air from the sea as they traveled down the sedate North Sea Road leading to Southampton Village. Simon wished they might have arrived during twilight, when the vast red sky striped with lavender streaks and the first stars of the evening offered an enchanting backdrop to the majestic dunes and endless vista of azure blue shore. But he took equal pleasure in the quarter moon peaking out from wispy stretches of clouds and poignant cries of seagulls all around them.
As Elizabeth guided the car onto their private sand road flanked on either side by well-trimmed hedges, Simon experienced an oddly painful gladness when he glimpsed the weathered gray shingle house with its turrets, secret porches and myriad windows looming ahead, a flag on top of the old-fashioned weather vane snapping smartly in the wind.
"We're home," Elizabeth said softly and Simon smiled in agreement. Yes, that's what he was experiencing ... a feeling of homecoming. Whether it was his deep-seated love of the ocean or because this was the home he'd made with Meghann for the happy but brief months of her pregnancy, Simon felt attached to this land.
They climbed up to the main rotunda on the winding front steps made of wooden slats eroded by time and exposure from fresh pine to deep silver. Elizabeth put her key in the front door just as it flew open and an enraged Lee Winslow lit into Elizabeth, so intent on her he didn't even notice Simon standing to the side of the door.
"Elizabeth Baldevar Winslow, where in the hell have you been?!" Lee screamed and Elizabeth attempted to step back but Lee imprisoned her with a strong grip on her wrist. Simon's eyes narrowed at this treatment of his daughter, but he decided to first see what was so disturbing the mortal doctor. This fury, which Simon could immediately see was a response to a driving fear, was quite unlike the even-tempered, amiable man Simon remembered.
"Have you any idea what time it is?" Lee roared and answered his own question before Elizabeth could reply. 'Ten o'clock . .. ten o'clock at night! Your interview was at two! I expected you home by six or seven at the latest, even with traffic. Wherever you were, you could have at least called me. I don't care how busy you were ... it only takes five seconds to call and tell me you'll be late so I don't sit here tearing my hair out, wondering what the hell happened to you!"
"Lee ..." Elizabeth began timidly.
"Don't you try and excuse yourself, young lady! You know the rules very well . . . the rules you, your mother and I worked out! Any time you're going to be late, you call! What are you going to tell me ... you got caught in traffic? So what? What do you think Meghann got you that car phone for? Have you forgotten there are reasons we have to know where you are? That there are ... things . . . that might hurt or even kill you once the sun goes down? When you didn't turn up, when I couldn't reach you... I didn't know what to think. I was so worried. For all I know, some ... some vampire could have had you, be doing God knows what to you!"
"You're quite right, Dr. Winslow," Simon said and moved in front of the mortal doctor who stagg
ered back and took a sharp intake of breath at this unexpected visitor. "Some vampire did have Elizabeth and he hopes you'll accept his deepest apologies for any anxiety you've suffered through this evening."
"Simon?" Lee sputtered incredulously and Simon saw him grab the doorframe to support himself. "You ... you're ... you're back." ♦
"That's what I was trying to tell you," Elizabeth said. "Daddy met me at school..." Elizabeth stopped cold, a deep blush suffusing her face when her shamed eyes met those of her mortal guardian, a man who had as much right if not more than Simon to consider himself her father.
"It's okay," Lee said to her and smiled reassuringly, though Simon saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes. 'Your whole life we've told you I'm not your biological father."
"That doesn't mean I don't love you like one," Elizabeth said and hugged him fiercely. "It's just..."
"Hey," Lee said gently and returned Elizabeth's hug. "You don't owe me any apology. I owe you one—screaming like that. But you've always been so good about calling. Then your friend Meryl showed up and I thought to myself, 'Ellie would never blow off a friend. Something terrible must have happened if she didn't call.' I understand now. Once you saw your ... um, Simon—it's only natural you got preoccupied."
"Meryl!" Elizabeth squeaked in guilty surprise. "I completely forgot. It's her birthday and we were supposed to go out tonight..."
"It's okay," Lee said comfortingly. "Meryl asked me to tell you to call her when you got home. Go call her and make your plans ..."
"I can't go out with her tonight," Elizabeth protested and glanced at Simon.
"You think I expect you to entertain a dull, aged parent all night?" he said teasingly and kissed her forehead. "Go and meet your friend ... as long as Dr. Winslow considers her a suitable companion."
"Meryl's a fine girl," Lee assured him and gestured for him to come into the house while Elizabeth dashed down the steps, heading for the guest house and a change of clothes after she kissed both men goodbye.
Lee led him into his former favorite room, a circular shaped atrium with walls made entirely of glass that faced the ocean. Settling down on a wrought-iron bench made comfortable with overstuffed cushions, Simon leaned back and accepted the straight bourbon Lee held out to him.
"I've got to apologize again," Lee said and sat opposite Simon on a white wicker chair decorated in a cheerful pastel fabric. "You must think you left your daughter with the male version of Mommy Dearest the way I carried on."
"It's my fault entirely. I startled Elizabeth so completely she forgot to call home. I'm glad you and Meghann take such stringent measures with her at night. And who is this?" Simon inquired, patting the head of a very friendly mixed-breed dog that came over to lick his hand.
"That's Patches," Lee smiled, gesturing to the dog's multi-colored brown, white, and tan coat. "You remember Meghann's setter, Max? He passed away of old age when Ellie was about eight. . . poor thing, she was so devastated. Meghann took her to North Shore and they wound up adopting Patches, along with a golden retriever named Sunshine because Ellie couldn't make up her mind which dog she wanted... and she said she felt one dog might be lonely without company. I think she'd have adopted the whole shelter if Meghann let her."
"Elizabeth likes animals?" Simon inquired, comparing this sweet daughter to the abominable disgrace of a son he'd disowned.
"Loves them," Lee answered. "Besides the dogs, we have three utterly useless cats lying somewhere around the house and five other part-timers Ellie leaves food out for each morning. She's amazing with animals ... the wildest, most mistrustful animals will walk right up and lick her hand."
"She gets that from Meghann," Simon said, remembering her tender treatment of any stray she came across ... be it a wounded cat or a pathetic drunk like that Delacroix creature she was so fond of.
"Now where is Meghann?" Simon inquired in a tone that hid how perturbed he'd been to enter the house and not have the slightest sense of his consort's presence.
"She's doing a summer seminar on Domestic Abuse over at Southampton College," Lee explained. "Eight to ten, once a week. She never went back to seeing patients after Ellie was born. She says she has more free time to devote to her daughter by teaching and writing articles. I expect her back any minute now."
"And where is Dr. Tarleton?" Simon inquired of the man's vampire lover and Meghann's dearest friend for more than fifty years. Before the children's birth, Simon could have cheerfully slaughtered the young vampire for it had been his meddling interference on behalf of Alcuin that led to Meghann leaving him for forty years. But the two enemies found themselves drawn together after the dreadful time Meghann had delivering the twins. Six weeks she'd hovered between life and death and Simon and Charles pushed all their petty grievances to the side in their efforts, along with those of Lee Winslow, to save her.
"Chicago," Lee said and gestured to a small flight bag on the floor. "He was presenting a paper on enzyme synthesis at Northwestern this week. I have a flight leaving at eleven-thirty to join him. We're uh . .. you see, he's going to transform me. We all discussed it together and decided Ellie's old enough to function on her own during the day.
"How wonderful!" Simon said sincerely. No one deserved transformation more than Lee Winslow. Simon studied the mortal critically, knowing the man was in his early sixties, and wondered if his elderly body could survive the rigors of transformation. But Lee didn't seem much different physically from the last time Simon had seen him seventeen years ago. True, the once ash-blond hair was now silver but he'd developed few wrinkles and his body appeared as firm through exercise and diet as it had been in his late forties. Simon focused his senses on the mortal's inner organs and found a firm heartbeat and no sign of any dark, foul disease running through his bloodstream.
"I'm ship-shape," Lee grinned at Simon's silent scrutiny. "Charles did a thorough examination about a month ago. I hate to rush out on you but it's past ten and I have to get out to the airport. Simon, is everything all right? I ask because you seem ... sad. Is something bothering you?"
A great deal was disturbing Simon, but if he disclosed the truth, he knew there was no way Lee Winslow would board a plane and leave his foster daughter's side. It was a godsend that the mortal and his vampire lover were going away; now Simon could persuade Meghann with a minimum of argument to heed his wishes without her two friends around to encourage opposition to his plans.
"I merely find my hopes temporarily dashed by Meghann's absence," Simon replied with some sincerity, disturbed that his ill humor was so poorly concealed even a mere mortal could perceive it— he'd have to tread quite carefully around Meghann's far more acute senses. "After all, I come home to fulfill my promise to Meghann and return now that Mikal no longer needs to be hidden from the world and the wench isn't even here to greet me."
"Mikal!" Lee cried, his face filling with avid curiosity. "His face is no longer . . . deformed? Does he tolerate daylight?"*
"Your plane, doctor," Simon reminded him. "As to my son, surely you understand that I wish to discuss him with Meghann before anyone else. That is her right as his mother."
"Damn!" Lee said, glancing at his wristwatch and hurriedly grabbing up his flight bag. "I've got to run. Of course I understand that you want to tell Meghann about Mikal first. I can get a full report when we come back on Friday. Charles thinks it will be . . . done ... by then."
"Good luck, doctor," Simon said softly and clasped the mortal's hand firmly. Lee Winslow would need more than mere luck . . . transformation was a dangerous undertaking. Simon would decide after he'd spoken with Meghann if they should head to Chicago so Simon could assist with Lee's transformation. Charles Tarleton had never performed transformation and Simon was, even to his enemies, the acknowledged expert on the matter.
Sad, Simon thought reflectively as he left the atrium and headed for the living room with its deep bay windows and covered porch offering a view of the towering white sand dunes. Sad did not even begin to describe what he felt when
he thought of the seventeen years he'd lost with Meghann and his wonderful daughter, sacrificed in the name of a despicable ingrate.
Simon shrugged off the troublesome thoughts. Only fools dwelled on that which could not be changed. It wasn't like he was some mortal father now limited to only a few brief years with Elizabeth, years in which he'd be a superfluous figure, competing for his daughter's attention with the husband and children she'd invariably have until he was eventually pensioned off to some home where he wouldn't be underfoot.
As a vampire, Simon had all the time in the world to make up for those unfortunately lost years. Soon he'd transform Elizabeth; guiding her through those first uncertain years of a vampire's existence would more than compensate for all he'd been forced to miss as she grew up.
Yes, he could make up for his absence in Elizabeth's life, as well as Meghann's. Ah, Meghann . .. his little firebrand that made life so much more diverting; Simon could hardly wait to see her. Anticipating a passionate reunion, Simon smiled at the living room with its parquet floors, simple tables of glass and chrome, and plush sofas and ottomans in various shades of sea green and the foamy gray color of the storm clouds that occasionally visited Southampton.
The room had changed little since Meghann first decorated it during those last happy months of her pregnancy when Simon presented her with the house as a bridal gift after they reconciled. The soft peach paint with green trim looked new but overall this room still reflected the elegant but comfortable taste he and Meghann had always had in common.
Even when they first met, when Meghann was merely the child of a working class background, she still had an instinctive flair for style that drew Simon to her.
Simon smiled at the one major change Meghann had made to the decor—photos of Elizabeth now decorated almost every inch of available wall space. Simon recognized many for Meghann had sent him and Adelaide duplicate prints. In his wallet was the twin to an enchanting composition of a gap-toothed Elizabeth, adorable chestnut curls pulled back with a pink ribbon, grinning over a vast chocolate cake lit with dozens of glowing little candles. He liked the picture very much, just as he enjoyed one of Elizabeth proudly showing off a menacing jack-o- lantern and various daytime shots Lee must have taken. But Simon's favorite picture had Meghann in the shot as well.
