“Fifteen foot tree in the reception hall. Fir garlands bordering the banisters, trim, and wainscot. Wreaths in the grand halls and rooms. Winter formal decorations in the main ballroom. Annual payments for Boxing Day. Servents gifts wrapped and placed. Company holiday party...”
Michael paused to sip on his glass of wine then continued down the list. Satisfied, he looked over at Morgan who was spending the pre-holiday mostly reading. “Are you reading anything in particular?”
“I am reading the news.”
“And what's on the iPod?”
“Newscasts.”
Michael furrowed a brow. “Do you want my laptop for newsfeeds, too?”
“I also have the local charity cases and hospitals to visit.”
Margaret clucked at both of them. “You two are being rude reading at the dinner table. And Morgan what are you planning on doing for fun this season?”
“I plan on singing.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Is that all? I guess when all you are is an in-”
Morgan stood up. “Excuse me, I am finished.”
After he'd left, Michael made a keening sound. “Guilting him won't work. Pestering him won't work. So now you've resorted to making insoucient remarks so that he has a tangible reason not to be here?”
Margaret put down her fork. “I merely thought talking about it wouldn't upset him.”
Claire snarked, “I knew it would.”
Michael nervously ran his hand through his hair. “It takes a lot of patience to learn how to wend your way through to getting him to open up. Few have determinedly stayed the course. If you're not willing to put in the long effort, don't sabotage mine.”
Claire snorted lightly. “Sitting on a cold dungeon floor while singing drunk is hardly putting in an effort.”
Michael stood himself. “It's not from me he's hiding. And he was happily singing drunk. He was smiling singing drunk. So, yes, I think my effort was worth it. And mind your language around the children. Emotional blackmail is not something I want them to learn.”
December 20, 2008
December 19, 2008
Michael's Wish, part 7
Margaret came in the door with her arms filled with bows, ribbon and fancy paper. She announced to Henry that she needed several servents to bring in parcels. Michael marvelled at his wife's endurance for holiday shopping. “I thought we already had everything we needed this year.”
“Well, I wanted to be sure.”
“Sure? I think you just spent my quarterly income in one month.” Michael smiled gamely as he went to put his briefcase away.
As he set it down in the house's administrative office, Holmes appeared in the office door. “Mr. Wallace?” the valet intoned.
Michael snapped upright. “Yes?”
“Lord Wallace had a short fit today, but he has returned. I believe he has gone down to the pool.”
“Thank you, Holmes.”
Michael's even demeanor broke the minute Morgan's valet left. He got up and raced across the back rooms of the house until he reached a specific staircase. He only slowed enough to prevent himself from falling down the steps. As he worked his way down to the sub-basement, he was about to turn into the next staircase when he noticed a gaggle of people desperately trying to keep up with him. He looked down the stairs, then looked back. He shook his head at his followers and dashed down the steps. He felt his way for the lights. He only flipped on the set for the near end and left the stairway and far end dark. He approached the edge of the pool. A couple articles of clothing floated in the water, but he didn't see a body. He ran into the dark as he heard the others approaching.
He felt for a false wall panel in the dark. It wasn't quiet anymore when it slid open, but it wasn't visible in the dark either. He let it slide shut. It had been a long time since he'd been past the pool, even longer since he'd been to the 'dungeon' levels. Save for his daughters, no one else in the family knew the pool was down here. He could hear them on the other side trying to find him. He felt in the dark for the hewn stone steps downwards.
As he found himself in an unwired part of the original castle, Michael incanted and a cold flame appeared in his hand. He found Morgan sitting in a cell, huddled in a corner with a several bottles of various spirits. Morgan stirred at the sound of footsteps. “Care to join me? If you don't mind the cold, it's a good place to hide.”
“I'm sorry. I was followed. They obviously haven't found the last false door, but it's a matter of time.”
Morgan only smirked. “I will just go deeper.”
Michael sat down next to his brother and put an arm around him. “Christmas is only a few days away.”
“Yes, I was just building up my courage.”
“Grey Goose, Jack Daniels, Dewar's, Baileys... This isn't courage.”
“No, they just shut out the voices so I can build up my courage. Just a smile on Christmas Day, eh?”
“Morgan, since it is just the two of us, where do you go?”
“It's complicated. I do not go any specific place.”
Michael opened a bottle and drank a couple swallows from it. As he leaned against Morgan, he sang: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light...”
“If you continue with that song, it won't help my depression any.”
“Fine, I'll stop singing in English, that should help. Isn't there a Swedish version?”
By the time the others found them, he and Morgan were singing Beethoven's Ode to Joy in badly mangled Latin.
“Well, I wanted to be sure.”
“Sure? I think you just spent my quarterly income in one month.” Michael smiled gamely as he went to put his briefcase away.
As he set it down in the house's administrative office, Holmes appeared in the office door. “Mr. Wallace?” the valet intoned.
Michael snapped upright. “Yes?”
“Lord Wallace had a short fit today, but he has returned. I believe he has gone down to the pool.”
“Thank you, Holmes.”
Michael's even demeanor broke the minute Morgan's valet left. He got up and raced across the back rooms of the house until he reached a specific staircase. He only slowed enough to prevent himself from falling down the steps. As he worked his way down to the sub-basement, he was about to turn into the next staircase when he noticed a gaggle of people desperately trying to keep up with him. He looked down the stairs, then looked back. He shook his head at his followers and dashed down the steps. He felt his way for the lights. He only flipped on the set for the near end and left the stairway and far end dark. He approached the edge of the pool. A couple articles of clothing floated in the water, but he didn't see a body. He ran into the dark as he heard the others approaching.
He felt for a false wall panel in the dark. It wasn't quiet anymore when it slid open, but it wasn't visible in the dark either. He let it slide shut. It had been a long time since he'd been past the pool, even longer since he'd been to the 'dungeon' levels. Save for his daughters, no one else in the family knew the pool was down here. He could hear them on the other side trying to find him. He felt in the dark for the hewn stone steps downwards.
As he found himself in an unwired part of the original castle, Michael incanted and a cold flame appeared in his hand. He found Morgan sitting in a cell, huddled in a corner with a several bottles of various spirits. Morgan stirred at the sound of footsteps. “Care to join me? If you don't mind the cold, it's a good place to hide.”
“I'm sorry. I was followed. They obviously haven't found the last false door, but it's a matter of time.”
Morgan only smirked. “I will just go deeper.”
Michael sat down next to his brother and put an arm around him. “Christmas is only a few days away.”
“Yes, I was just building up my courage.”
“Grey Goose, Jack Daniels, Dewar's, Baileys... This isn't courage.”
“No, they just shut out the voices so I can build up my courage. Just a smile on Christmas Day, eh?”
“Morgan, since it is just the two of us, where do you go?”
“It's complicated. I do not go any specific place.”
Michael opened a bottle and drank a couple swallows from it. As he leaned against Morgan, he sang: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light...”
“If you continue with that song, it won't help my depression any.”
“Fine, I'll stop singing in English, that should help. Isn't there a Swedish version?”
By the time the others found them, he and Morgan were singing Beethoven's Ode to Joy in badly mangled Latin.
December 18, 2008
Michael's Wish, part 6
Despite everyone's desire to do so, Michael counselled against pressing Morgan more than once each on the issue of his attendance. His suggestion was considered with about the same weight as his suggestion they not eat the strung popcorn off the tree. Morgan heard about everyone's opinion of his disappearances almost nonstop for a week. After Claire decided to give him an earful in bed, he threw her out and refused to leave his apartment. Michael, waist-deep in work and home projects, merely shook his head and said, “I would rather not have to deal with a cataleptic fit. Leave him alone.”
Claire, in her usual sarcastic manner, retorted. “Oh, he's alone. He won't see anyone.”
“Claire, does it occur to you with all the problems he has, that perhaps he might have some reason not to want to join in?”
Claire sighed. “Nobody wants to be stuck home for the holidays with the same people year in and out, but I think once a decade is...”
“He was allowed once in his lifetime. Once in his life he was allowed this simple, child's joy. Once. Whatever he connects with it, after all these years, probably isn't pleasant.”
“Well, choosing to be a hired killer...”
Michael dropped the pen he was holding and dragged her up to Morgan's suite. He shoved her into a side room and closed the door. “Don't ever bring that fact up outside of Morgan's rooms again. It's an ugly fact to hide as it is. Making it a topic of conversation will not make it any easier to mentally partition.”
“Ignoring the fact...”
“The fact he kills for a living is impossible to ignore. Being discreet about it is almost as hard so you had better work at it.”
“Or else he'll silence me?”
“Or else I will. And I have my non-evil ways of doing so.”
Morgan's voice suddenly rang out, “I did not know you were the kind to make ultimatums.”
Claire and Michael both jumped and looked farther into the room. Michael clicked on another light. Morgan sat at the far side with several sheets of stock in his hands that apparently he'd been reading. “Claire, get out of here.”
Claire opened her mouth to protest but Michael deftly opened the door and pushed her out before three syllables left her mouth. He closed the door soundly. “I apologize. I didn't realize you were in here.”
Morgan smacked the sheets on a table. “I don't blame you. She is horribly indelicate. I could have managed the rest of the pressure the family was placing on me but she was the worst.”
Michael made a vocal shrug.
“I threw her out of bed.”
Michael merely shrugged, “She has her own. What was so bad?”
“Well, I can live with being considered inconsiderate and unloving. I can also manage being called cowardly and impotent. And she may call me a lush all she likes. But she had to bring up our son. And then she called me mama's boy.”
“It's an American insult,” Michael elucidated, “It merely means unmanly.”
“I am well aware and if she had called me effeminate, unmanly, girlish, it would have had no effect.”
Michael could only nod agreement.
Claire, in her usual sarcastic manner, retorted. “Oh, he's alone. He won't see anyone.”
“Claire, does it occur to you with all the problems he has, that perhaps he might have some reason not to want to join in?”
Claire sighed. “Nobody wants to be stuck home for the holidays with the same people year in and out, but I think once a decade is...”
“He was allowed once in his lifetime. Once in his life he was allowed this simple, child's joy. Once. Whatever he connects with it, after all these years, probably isn't pleasant.”
“Well, choosing to be a hired killer...”
Michael dropped the pen he was holding and dragged her up to Morgan's suite. He shoved her into a side room and closed the door. “Don't ever bring that fact up outside of Morgan's rooms again. It's an ugly fact to hide as it is. Making it a topic of conversation will not make it any easier to mentally partition.”
“Ignoring the fact...”
“The fact he kills for a living is impossible to ignore. Being discreet about it is almost as hard so you had better work at it.”
“Or else he'll silence me?”
“Or else I will. And I have my non-evil ways of doing so.”
Morgan's voice suddenly rang out, “I did not know you were the kind to make ultimatums.”
Claire and Michael both jumped and looked farther into the room. Michael clicked on another light. Morgan sat at the far side with several sheets of stock in his hands that apparently he'd been reading. “Claire, get out of here.”
Claire opened her mouth to protest but Michael deftly opened the door and pushed her out before three syllables left her mouth. He closed the door soundly. “I apologize. I didn't realize you were in here.”
Morgan smacked the sheets on a table. “I don't blame you. She is horribly indelicate. I could have managed the rest of the pressure the family was placing on me but she was the worst.”
Michael made a vocal shrug.
“I threw her out of bed.”
Michael merely shrugged, “She has her own. What was so bad?”
“Well, I can live with being considered inconsiderate and unloving. I can also manage being called cowardly and impotent. And she may call me a lush all she likes. But she had to bring up our son. And then she called me mama's boy.”
“It's an American insult,” Michael elucidated, “It merely means unmanly.”
“I am well aware and if she had called me effeminate, unmanly, girlish, it would have had no effect.”
Michael could only nod agreement.
December 16, 2008
Michael's Wish, part 5
“Your wife thinks you're being inconsiderate by not joining us,” Michael said without preamble.
“My wife says many things I would give little weight,” Morgan responded.
“Well, unfortunately, my wife, mistress, and all my children agree with her, as do I,” Michael added.
“So has the situation downgraded from a smile on Christmas Day?”
Michael almost laughed. “Yes, they want you to be here for at least four hours and the children... the children have to see you.”
Morgan gave no obvious reaction. Michael did see the corner of his mouth vacillate downwards. “And are you merely relaying or demanding?”
“I am not demanding anything Morgan. You may have some byzantine reason for never being here that even I may not comprehend. If you truly don't want to be here, don't be.”
Michael reached for his brother's hand and clasped it in both of his. “Father can't be here for you any more, Morgan, but I am. I love you and will welcome you home every time you go away, just like Dad did. And those children upstairs love you, too. Maybe not the same way, but they care about you. I'm not sure Nicole and Krystie are convinced yet that you're not Santa.”
Morgan's face betrayed incomprehension. Michael laughed lightly. “They were convinced when they were little that was the reason you were gone every Christmas. That you were bringing happiness to children around the world.”
Morgan laughed uncomfortably and hugged Michael close, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “They remind me of their father,” he said.
“My wife says many things I would give little weight,” Morgan responded.
“Well, unfortunately, my wife, mistress, and all my children agree with her, as do I,” Michael added.
“So has the situation downgraded from a smile on Christmas Day?”
Michael almost laughed. “Yes, they want you to be here for at least four hours and the children... the children have to see you.”
Morgan gave no obvious reaction. Michael did see the corner of his mouth vacillate downwards. “And are you merely relaying or demanding?”
“I am not demanding anything Morgan. You may have some byzantine reason for never being here that even I may not comprehend. If you truly don't want to be here, don't be.”
Michael reached for his brother's hand and clasped it in both of his. “Father can't be here for you any more, Morgan, but I am. I love you and will welcome you home every time you go away, just like Dad did. And those children upstairs love you, too. Maybe not the same way, but they care about you. I'm not sure Nicole and Krystie are convinced yet that you're not Santa.”
Morgan's face betrayed incomprehension. Michael laughed lightly. “They were convinced when they were little that was the reason you were gone every Christmas. That you were bringing happiness to children around the world.”
Morgan laughed uncomfortably and hugged Michael close, then planted a kiss on his cheek. “They remind me of their father,” he said.
December 15, 2008
Michael's Wish, part 4
Morgan was near the main reception hall when several women came calling from the parish. He greeted them personally.
“Merry Christmas,” they said gaily. “We'll only take a moment of your time.”
“Greetings, and welcome to my home, ladies. Please, take my time, I have it to give.”
By his insistence, their coats were taken and he sat them in the receiving parlor and offered them refreshments and sweets. He let the newer members of the Ladies Committee marvel at the grandeur of his residence while he deflected any credit on its appearance to the house servents. As he sat down with a lowball in his hand, he asked, “What may I do for the church this year?”
They thanked him for his wonderful generosity that year. He modestly said that it is hardly generosity when one has the money to burn. He then pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and placed it on a setting table. “For the usual charities,” he stated.
“Are you going to sing this year?” a young voice asked.
Morgan turned toward the direction of the asker. “I had planned on it.”
“Would you be willing to sing for midnight mass, too? We would love to have you.”
“My answer is the same as every year, for the same reason. I always sing here. Do you have any family cases for me this year?”
He settled back into his chair and took a sip from his drink. A folder was handed to him and he opened it and carefully flipped the pages. They were the stiff stock necessary for braille. He ran his fingers over them lengthwise and nodded. The next half-hour was spent in wonderfully trite conversation. He then excused himself but importuned them to stay as long as they wished. His hospitality was open even if he had other things that needed his attention. At that moment, he heard Michael coming down the grand staircase.
“Merry Christmas,” they said gaily. “We'll only take a moment of your time.”
“Greetings, and welcome to my home, ladies. Please, take my time, I have it to give.”
By his insistence, their coats were taken and he sat them in the receiving parlor and offered them refreshments and sweets. He let the newer members of the Ladies Committee marvel at the grandeur of his residence while he deflected any credit on its appearance to the house servents. As he sat down with a lowball in his hand, he asked, “What may I do for the church this year?”
They thanked him for his wonderful generosity that year. He modestly said that it is hardly generosity when one has the money to burn. He then pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and placed it on a setting table. “For the usual charities,” he stated.
“Are you going to sing this year?” a young voice asked.
Morgan turned toward the direction of the asker. “I had planned on it.”
“Would you be willing to sing for midnight mass, too? We would love to have you.”
“My answer is the same as every year, for the same reason. I always sing here. Do you have any family cases for me this year?”
He settled back into his chair and took a sip from his drink. A folder was handed to him and he opened it and carefully flipped the pages. They were the stiff stock necessary for braille. He ran his fingers over them lengthwise and nodded. The next half-hour was spent in wonderfully trite conversation. He then excused himself but importuned them to stay as long as they wished. His hospitality was open even if he had other things that needed his attention. At that moment, he heard Michael coming down the grand staircase.
December 14, 2008
Michael's Wish, part 3
Michael went back downstairs to where the three ladies of the house, five servents, and his five children were in the midst of decorating a tree in the nursery. Claire was trying to attach bows to the wall. The cheer of the children heralded their father's entrance and interrupted what Claire was trying to say to him. After Michael wiggled free of the three younger children, he approached Claire who openly asked, “So, is my husband going to join us for the holiday this year?”
Michael just shook his head. Out of habit, he made the keening noise he used around Morgan to verbalize it. “I don't think he will. I asked, but I -”
“You know, he could make the effert to be around just once.”
“Claire, I don't think it's that simple. He has been robbed of this wonderful celebration for as long as I can remember. The damage has been done and we can't really give him what he wants out of it.”
Michael became aware of the whole room now staring at them. Asynchronously, he got a chorus of “What does he want?”
Michael tapped an framed photo on the wall. Two young boys sat nattily dressed on a man's lap. All three were widely smiling. “This is the only Christmas I know Morgan was home. I can barely remember it, it was so long ago, but Morgan used to smile like that a lot. Then, mother broke him.”
Michael just shook his head. Out of habit, he made the keening noise he used around Morgan to verbalize it. “I don't think he will. I asked, but I -”
“You know, he could make the effert to be around just once.”
“Claire, I don't think it's that simple. He has been robbed of this wonderful celebration for as long as I can remember. The damage has been done and we can't really give him what he wants out of it.”
Michael became aware of the whole room now staring at them. Asynchronously, he got a chorus of “What does he want?”
Michael tapped an framed photo on the wall. Two young boys sat nattily dressed on a man's lap. All three were widely smiling. “This is the only Christmas I know Morgan was home. I can barely remember it, it was so long ago, but Morgan used to smile like that a lot. Then, mother broke him.”
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