Heirloom [7/?]
Title: Heirloom [chapter 7/?]
Author: kiki_fan187
Rating: general
Category: general/angst
Characters: James, Helen, John with Ashley later on.
Summary: James finds something whilst investigating a murder scene. This fic is borne from that discovery.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Just taking them out for a spin and leaving them exactly where I found them.
Holding the necklace in the palm of her hand, Helen looked down at its guiltless, bright, and smiling face and it looked the same as it did the first time she saw it. To be holding it on this day felt, somehow, right. It felt as if John wanted her to do so, that he wanted her to cradle it. With the gift in her hand, she felt as if she was holding the last tangible connection she had to the man that gave her the daughter she watched grow over the last eighteen years. She felt the same when she held Ashley as an infant; cradling the real tangible creation of their love for each other.
John’s fingers gently caressed the back of her hand, the one holding the precious gift. His fingertip stroked the creamy skin before running alongside the length of the chain. Gently, he enveloped the bulb with her elegant fingers whereupon he kissed her protective hand.
“You kept it safe,” John whispered tenderly, “Thank you.”
“I know you would want me to,” Helen replied with a trembling voice, “I couldn’t get rid of it.”
John brushed away the wayward hairs of her fringe and saw her face; “It was the last good thing that I did before I-“
“You don’t need to say anything,” Helen interjected, “You don’t need to say anything.”
She looked into his eyes and saw him. She saw only John, only his warmth; his pure love for her and for their daughter. He had always loved them, always had them in his heart just as she had always held him dearly to her heart. Helen took a step closer to John, their bodies touched. Their stomachs caressed each other through their clothing; the graceful material of Helen’s chiffon black dress and the fabric of John’s simple shirt. Their bodies moulded together flawlessly. Helen cradled the necklace in her hand between them, just as she had cradled Ashley for nine months. Her hand rested closed on his chest.
“John, I -“
John didn’t let the words she wanted to say appear. He delicately let his lips touch hers, spiriting her breath away as he reminded her of the thrilling ecstasy that their kisses created. In the century they had been apart, she had never forgotten the feel of his kiss. Each lover she had been with had never matched the intense chemistry that they once shared. Every kiss that she shared with a lover was constantly subconsciously compared to him; every sexual dalliance was not as fulfilling as when they had made love. It was sex with, not love making as it was with John.
Helen knew that John was only standing here as a figment of her imagination, her inner need for him to be here so that he could in some way share this special occasion. She couldn’t pull herself from this reverie. She wanted to spend as much time as she could in his arms. His fantasy arms wrapped around her waist and caressed her hips through the chiffon material. It felt so serene, so right, and so perfect. She had missed his touch. She wanted to stay in her daydream forever, to hold onto John for as long as possible.
“I have to go,” his voice whispered.
“John, please stay,” Helen pleaded, “Please. What can I possibly say to Ashley when I give her this? I need you.”
His hand caressed her cheek; “You’ve lived without me so far, you can keep going.”
“John -“
“Helen . . . you have done beautifully. Ashley is growing up magnificently because of you. You don’t need me. You’re only saying that so you don’t hurt my feelings and since I’m only a figment of your imagination, there is nothing to get hurt.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too and I wish I could be here and be with you and Ashley but it wasn’t meant to be.”
Helen nodded her head softly, her brunette tresses shifting.
“Give Ashley a kiss from me,” John smiled softly before giving Helen one last deep kiss.
Helen savoured the feel of his lips before he broke away and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“I love you and I’m never far away,” he whispered before fading as the red ember lights of the sunset filtered in through her window.
“Remember, I’m never far away,” John’s voice echoed as she held her clutching hand to her chest.
Helen took one last look at the necklace before placing it safely back in the cradle of its velveteen bed. With an aching heart, Helen removed the embroidered material from the top of the box. She opened her wardrobe and reached up and removed the tin that rested on a ledge in a hidden panel. Carefully, Helen carried the precious decorative tin over to her bureau. Her fingertips traced the still immaculate rim of the casing before opening the lid at its hinges.
Everything she had that reminded her of John was in this tin. All of the photographs of them together were housed here, safely tucked away from the crippling aging of time. They remained forever captured and as new as when they were first taken, just like her. Countless memories vied for her attention as wave upon wave of nostalgia flowed over her. Her engagement ring sat patiently amongst the trinkets and articles of jewellery that John bestowed upon her during their courtship. She could see that the ring wanted to be on her finger as it winked at her. She had desperately wanted it to remain on her finger, she wanted to show it off but fate robbed her of it and resigned it to the confines of this tin that she had owned since she was eighteen years old. It had been one of many gifts that she had been given by her father.
Taking the embroidered material, Helen set it delicately on top of the photographs. With all my love, John. Helen inhaled deeply and closed the tin quickly. She flew to her wardrobe and hid it from sight, not knowing when she would look upon it again. Again, she locked John away in the shadows.
Helen checked her hair one last time in the mirror before clasping her own necklace around her neck. She picked up her clutch purse, the jewellery box and placed it in her purse. With her free hand she settled the creases of her dress and established her facade, the one that would last the entire evening. She looked immaculate.
***
“Dude! No way!” Ashley gasped as she unwrapped the present of a new motorcycle helmet. It would go perfectly with her new bike, “It’s wicked! Thank you!”
Helen grinned as her daughter hugged James excitedly.
“You’re welcome,” James replied happily.
“James, you shouldn’t have,” Helen added.
“Mom! He should’ve. I love it and appreciate it and it’s going to get one hell of a breaking in.”
“A girl only turns eighteen once, Helen.”
“I agree. Listen to him, Mom. James knows what he’s talking about. Genius, remember.”
Helen smiled as she realised she was being outnumbered and in an unlikely position to convince either of them.
“I have to admit, Boss, it is a sweet helmet.”
“Whose side are you on?” Helen playfully scolded.
“Sorry, Boss. But this helmet is the safest one ever designed. There isn’t anything better. You know until they design a new one.”
“Thank you, Henry,” Ashley proudly smiled looking to her mother, “See, Mom, even Henry agrees. And he designed it with the help of James so it’s a win-win.”
Helen shook her head nonchalantly and rolled her eyes jovially; “I know when I can’t win and it is your birthday.”
“That it is,” Ashley smirked before giving Helen a kiss on the cheek, “And buttering my Mom up should help with the looks.”
“Ash, did you just say ‘buttering’?” Henry asked dazed from disbelief.
“Crap!” Ashley, “I’m getting old! Trade the bike in for a Zimmer frame!”
“All right,” James replied and reached for the phone.
“No!” Ashley cried animatedly, stopping James, “Don’t! Dude. Wicked. Ace. Sweet. Coolness. Yay. See, I’m back. I’m all right. I’m eighteen. Phew, that was close.”
“What have you been teaching this girl, Helen?”
“Young woman, James,” Helen corrected.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“And I have been teaching her to be herself.”
“A perfect success story, if I do say so myself,” Ashley beamed, “She raised a kick-ass kid all by herself.”
’All by myself,’ Helen repeated. She was the only parent that Ashley had ever known; the only blood relative either of them would know. They went through everything together as mother and daughter, as best friends, and as life lines. In her eighteen years of living, Ashley had saved countless lives, including that of her mother’s in various instances. Helen returned the favour numerous times over, fighting for her child and making sure that she kept on living. Truthfully, Helen shuddered at the possibility of Ashley dying. She knew it was a prospect due to her own longevity; she was already one hundred and fifty-one years old, approaching one hundred and fifty-two and if Ashley died doing what she had raised her to do, her heart would be irreparably broken. Helen needed to believe that if she outlived her daughter, that when she took her final breath, she would be an elderly woman with a lifetime of accomplishments and happiness under her belt. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her daughter; the ultimate gift that John gave her.
“Mom?” Ashley’s voice called as it interrupted Helen’s stupor, “You with us?”
“You look a million miles away, Boss.”
“Ah, she’s thinking about Ashley when she was little, I’m betting. She’s getting sentimental in her old age,” James quipped.
“Look who’s talking,” Helen replied, “What age are you now? One hundred and fifty-seven?”
“Touché.”
“Never pick a fight with, Mom, James. You know that.”
“I do know that and I’ve just been reminded.”
“Magnus’s win every time,” Ashley replied.
The evening continued with more jubilation. Once Ashley had opened her presents, they all went out to her favourite restaurant on the other side of the city for an elaborate meal. They all ordered exquisitely delicious food until they couldn’t move. Even when they thought they were going to explode by the slightest morsel, a cake was brought out. The most superb chocolate cake ever baked was beautifully lit with eighteen glowing candles; with one more to grow on. They were all blown out in one single breath. Despite bursting at the seams, they all managed to enjoy a piece as none of them could resist the aroma and allure of chocolate.
Once home, they all slumped into the more than welcoming chairs of the lounge before enjoying some appropriate beverages.
***
“Hey, Mom,” Ashley smiled softly as she found her mother sitting on the couch in the living room, with a book open on her elegantly curled up legs. Ashley gently kissed Helen’s head before going around the couch and sitting beside her, “Want some more cake?”
“You’re eating more?”
“Yeh. It was good cake.”
“And now you’re eating more.”
“Yup,” Ashley answered taking a forkful, “I don’t know what to tell you, Mom. It’s good, I want it and I’ve got a good metabolism.”
Helen looked to Ashley expectantly.
“Hey, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.”
Helen smiled at Ashley. She had truly grown in a splendid young woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. If Helen wanted Ashley to learn anything, it would be to speak her mind. It was that liberty that let Ashley become the headstrong and confidant woman she was today.
After a minute, Ashley finished the cake and began to hoover the crumbs that had broken off and decorated the plate. Once sated, she placed it on the coffee table in front of them. She leaned over and gave Helen a kiss on the cheek.
“What was that for?”
“For giving me a great birthday.”
“Always.”
“It’s been a great day. Thanks, Mom.”
Helen paused for a moment; “It’s not over yet,” she added in a quietly unsure voice.
Ashley saw the change in her mother’s demeanour. Ashley wanted to say something witty, as she usually did, but this time she held her tongue. She saw the gravity in her mother. This was something serious.
Helen, still in her cocktail dress, closed her book and set it on the coffee table. Then, she reached around and picked up her purse. She opened it and retrieved the jewellery box from it.
Her heart raced as she gradually turned back round to Ashley. She saw the curiosity in her daughter’s eyes as Ashley quizzed the serious look she had on her face. The same feelings of apprehension plagued her again. She was so close to giving this necklace to her. Now that it’s out of her purse, she couldn’t go back.
“One last gift,” Helen’s voice whispered as her hand hovered with the box sitting on it.
Ashley saw the intensity in her mother’s eyes. She didn’t know what to expect from what was being held out to her. Bit by bit, Ashley took it from her palm and held it. She scrutinized the small velvet box for a minute or two. Her thumb traced the seam. Helen watched her daughter scrutinize it just as she had when she first held it. Helen found herself holding her breath as Ashley opened it.
“Wow. Pretty,” Ashley breathed, “Very pretty.”
Ashley took it out from its bed and held it up close.
“D? Mom, I think you’ve hit your head a few too many times.”
Helen tried a small smile.
“Ashley . . . It’s from your father.”
“My- my father?”
Helen nodded softly, “Your father he- . . . He had it made before he died.”
“Which was before I was born,” Ashley added.
“I kept it . . . and every year on your birthday and every year at Christmas I would ask myself countless questions. I questioned if I should give it to you this year or wait another, I wondered what questions you could have about him if you knew it was from him, and how you would react upon being given it. I had preoccupations regarding anything and everything when it came to that necklace. When I see it, I’m always reminded of your father.”
Ashley listened closely as she looked at the necklace.
“Do you know why he picked ‘D’ as the initial?”
’His surname is Druitt.
“He wished that we would have a daughter when I became pregnant with you. He imagined what you would look like when you were born. He pictured you looking up at him from his arms with big blue eyes and blonde hair. Your father wanted to meet you so very much . . . but the gods weren’t smiling on him. He said that he was going to explain the ‘D’ engraving when you were born,” Helen explained tenderly, “I think he was wanting to prove a point - that he was right predicting a daughter. In my heart of hearts, I believe that ‘D’ means ‘Daughter’ and that when you wear it; you’ll always be his little girl, the girl that he never got to meet but the daughter that he’ll be looking over.”
Ashley looked at the silver bulb, taking in the words that her mother used. Helen knew that she had lied to her daughter about the origin of the necklace and kept the details as vague as possible. As she was explaining what the letter could possibly stand for, by the end, she had convinced herself that it didn’t mean Druitt but that it meant ‘Daughter’ instead. A part of her knew that John had thought about the double meaning of the initial. He had wished for their child to be a girl and that she would grow in beauty and intellect, like her mother. As Helen looked at Ashley and as she watched her hold the necklace, she could see John leaning against the doorframe and smiling happily.
“Wow,” Ashley whispered, “That’s really cool.”
“He loved you so completely before you even had a heartbeat.”
Ashley took the comfort from what her mother said. She had been thinking about her father increasingly as of late. She didn’t even know what he looked like, not really but he had good taste; after all, he did fall in love with her mother and bought this beautiful necklace.
Helen took it from Ashley’s hand and motioned for Ashley to turn around, holding the necklace up expectantly. Ashley did so and held her hair up and let Helen clasp the necklace around her neck. The silver chain rested perfectly along the contours of her neck and the bud rested pristinely on her chest. It suited her flawlessly.
“Beautiful,” Helen commented softly as she looked at Ashley.
“I really love it,” Ashley whispered looking down at the only piece of her dad that she had. She leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek again, “Thank you, Mom.”
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Author: kiki_fan187
Rating: general
Category: general/angst
Characters: James, Helen, John with Ashley later on.
Summary: James finds something whilst investigating a murder scene. This fic is borne from that discovery.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Just taking them out for a spin and leaving them exactly where I found them.
Holding the necklace in the palm of her hand, Helen looked down at its guiltless, bright, and smiling face and it looked the same as it did the first time she saw it. To be holding it on this day felt, somehow, right. It felt as if John wanted her to do so, that he wanted her to cradle it. With the gift in her hand, she felt as if she was holding the last tangible connection she had to the man that gave her the daughter she watched grow over the last eighteen years. She felt the same when she held Ashley as an infant; cradling the real tangible creation of their love for each other.
John’s fingers gently caressed the back of her hand, the one holding the precious gift. His fingertip stroked the creamy skin before running alongside the length of the chain. Gently, he enveloped the bulb with her elegant fingers whereupon he kissed her protective hand.
“You kept it safe,” John whispered tenderly, “Thank you.”
“I know you would want me to,” Helen replied with a trembling voice, “I couldn’t get rid of it.”
John brushed away the wayward hairs of her fringe and saw her face; “It was the last good thing that I did before I-“
“You don’t need to say anything,” Helen interjected, “You don’t need to say anything.”
She looked into his eyes and saw him. She saw only John, only his warmth; his pure love for her and for their daughter. He had always loved them, always had them in his heart just as she had always held him dearly to her heart. Helen took a step closer to John, their bodies touched. Their stomachs caressed each other through their clothing; the graceful material of Helen’s chiffon black dress and the fabric of John’s simple shirt. Their bodies moulded together flawlessly. Helen cradled the necklace in her hand between them, just as she had cradled Ashley for nine months. Her hand rested closed on his chest.
“John, I -“
John didn’t let the words she wanted to say appear. He delicately let his lips touch hers, spiriting her breath away as he reminded her of the thrilling ecstasy that their kisses created. In the century they had been apart, she had never forgotten the feel of his kiss. Each lover she had been with had never matched the intense chemistry that they once shared. Every kiss that she shared with a lover was constantly subconsciously compared to him; every sexual dalliance was not as fulfilling as when they had made love. It was sex with, not love making as it was with John.
Helen knew that John was only standing here as a figment of her imagination, her inner need for him to be here so that he could in some way share this special occasion. She couldn’t pull herself from this reverie. She wanted to spend as much time as she could in his arms. His fantasy arms wrapped around her waist and caressed her hips through the chiffon material. It felt so serene, so right, and so perfect. She had missed his touch. She wanted to stay in her daydream forever, to hold onto John for as long as possible.
“I have to go,” his voice whispered.
“John, please stay,” Helen pleaded, “Please. What can I possibly say to Ashley when I give her this? I need you.”
His hand caressed her cheek; “You’ve lived without me so far, you can keep going.”
“John -“
“Helen . . . you have done beautifully. Ashley is growing up magnificently because of you. You don’t need me. You’re only saying that so you don’t hurt my feelings and since I’m only a figment of your imagination, there is nothing to get hurt.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too and I wish I could be here and be with you and Ashley but it wasn’t meant to be.”
Helen nodded her head softly, her brunette tresses shifting.
“Give Ashley a kiss from me,” John smiled softly before giving Helen one last deep kiss.
Helen savoured the feel of his lips before he broke away and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“I love you and I’m never far away,” he whispered before fading as the red ember lights of the sunset filtered in through her window.
“Remember, I’m never far away,” John’s voice echoed as she held her clutching hand to her chest.
Helen took one last look at the necklace before placing it safely back in the cradle of its velveteen bed. With an aching heart, Helen removed the embroidered material from the top of the box. She opened her wardrobe and reached up and removed the tin that rested on a ledge in a hidden panel. Carefully, Helen carried the precious decorative tin over to her bureau. Her fingertips traced the still immaculate rim of the casing before opening the lid at its hinges.
Everything she had that reminded her of John was in this tin. All of the photographs of them together were housed here, safely tucked away from the crippling aging of time. They remained forever captured and as new as when they were first taken, just like her. Countless memories vied for her attention as wave upon wave of nostalgia flowed over her. Her engagement ring sat patiently amongst the trinkets and articles of jewellery that John bestowed upon her during their courtship. She could see that the ring wanted to be on her finger as it winked at her. She had desperately wanted it to remain on her finger, she wanted to show it off but fate robbed her of it and resigned it to the confines of this tin that she had owned since she was eighteen years old. It had been one of many gifts that she had been given by her father.
Taking the embroidered material, Helen set it delicately on top of the photographs. With all my love, John. Helen inhaled deeply and closed the tin quickly. She flew to her wardrobe and hid it from sight, not knowing when she would look upon it again. Again, she locked John away in the shadows.
Helen checked her hair one last time in the mirror before clasping her own necklace around her neck. She picked up her clutch purse, the jewellery box and placed it in her purse. With her free hand she settled the creases of her dress and established her facade, the one that would last the entire evening. She looked immaculate.
***
“Dude! No way!” Ashley gasped as she unwrapped the present of a new motorcycle helmet. It would go perfectly with her new bike, “It’s wicked! Thank you!”
Helen grinned as her daughter hugged James excitedly.
“You’re welcome,” James replied happily.
“James, you shouldn’t have,” Helen added.
“Mom! He should’ve. I love it and appreciate it and it’s going to get one hell of a breaking in.”
“A girl only turns eighteen once, Helen.”
“I agree. Listen to him, Mom. James knows what he’s talking about. Genius, remember.”
Helen smiled as she realised she was being outnumbered and in an unlikely position to convince either of them.
“I have to admit, Boss, it is a sweet helmet.”
“Whose side are you on?” Helen playfully scolded.
“Sorry, Boss. But this helmet is the safest one ever designed. There isn’t anything better. You know until they design a new one.”
“Thank you, Henry,” Ashley proudly smiled looking to her mother, “See, Mom, even Henry agrees. And he designed it with the help of James so it’s a win-win.”
Helen shook her head nonchalantly and rolled her eyes jovially; “I know when I can’t win and it is your birthday.”
“That it is,” Ashley smirked before giving Helen a kiss on the cheek, “And buttering my Mom up should help with the looks.”
“Ash, did you just say ‘buttering’?” Henry asked dazed from disbelief.
“Crap!” Ashley, “I’m getting old! Trade the bike in for a Zimmer frame!”
“All right,” James replied and reached for the phone.
“No!” Ashley cried animatedly, stopping James, “Don’t! Dude. Wicked. Ace. Sweet. Coolness. Yay. See, I’m back. I’m all right. I’m eighteen. Phew, that was close.”
“What have you been teaching this girl, Helen?”
“Young woman, James,” Helen corrected.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“And I have been teaching her to be herself.”
“A perfect success story, if I do say so myself,” Ashley beamed, “She raised a kick-ass kid all by herself.”
’All by myself,’ Helen repeated. She was the only parent that Ashley had ever known; the only blood relative either of them would know. They went through everything together as mother and daughter, as best friends, and as life lines. In her eighteen years of living, Ashley had saved countless lives, including that of her mother’s in various instances. Helen returned the favour numerous times over, fighting for her child and making sure that she kept on living. Truthfully, Helen shuddered at the possibility of Ashley dying. She knew it was a prospect due to her own longevity; she was already one hundred and fifty-one years old, approaching one hundred and fifty-two and if Ashley died doing what she had raised her to do, her heart would be irreparably broken. Helen needed to believe that if she outlived her daughter, that when she took her final breath, she would be an elderly woman with a lifetime of accomplishments and happiness under her belt. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her daughter; the ultimate gift that John gave her.
“Mom?” Ashley’s voice called as it interrupted Helen’s stupor, “You with us?”
“You look a million miles away, Boss.”
“Ah, she’s thinking about Ashley when she was little, I’m betting. She’s getting sentimental in her old age,” James quipped.
“Look who’s talking,” Helen replied, “What age are you now? One hundred and fifty-seven?”
“Touché.”
“Never pick a fight with, Mom, James. You know that.”
“I do know that and I’ve just been reminded.”
“Magnus’s win every time,” Ashley replied.
The evening continued with more jubilation. Once Ashley had opened her presents, they all went out to her favourite restaurant on the other side of the city for an elaborate meal. They all ordered exquisitely delicious food until they couldn’t move. Even when they thought they were going to explode by the slightest morsel, a cake was brought out. The most superb chocolate cake ever baked was beautifully lit with eighteen glowing candles; with one more to grow on. They were all blown out in one single breath. Despite bursting at the seams, they all managed to enjoy a piece as none of them could resist the aroma and allure of chocolate.
Once home, they all slumped into the more than welcoming chairs of the lounge before enjoying some appropriate beverages.
***
“Hey, Mom,” Ashley smiled softly as she found her mother sitting on the couch in the living room, with a book open on her elegantly curled up legs. Ashley gently kissed Helen’s head before going around the couch and sitting beside her, “Want some more cake?”
“You’re eating more?”
“Yeh. It was good cake.”
“And now you’re eating more.”
“Yup,” Ashley answered taking a forkful, “I don’t know what to tell you, Mom. It’s good, I want it and I’ve got a good metabolism.”
Helen looked to Ashley expectantly.
“Hey, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.”
Helen smiled at Ashley. She had truly grown in a splendid young woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. If Helen wanted Ashley to learn anything, it would be to speak her mind. It was that liberty that let Ashley become the headstrong and confidant woman she was today.
After a minute, Ashley finished the cake and began to hoover the crumbs that had broken off and decorated the plate. Once sated, she placed it on the coffee table in front of them. She leaned over and gave Helen a kiss on the cheek.
“What was that for?”
“For giving me a great birthday.”
“Always.”
“It’s been a great day. Thanks, Mom.”
Helen paused for a moment; “It’s not over yet,” she added in a quietly unsure voice.
Ashley saw the change in her mother’s demeanour. Ashley wanted to say something witty, as she usually did, but this time she held her tongue. She saw the gravity in her mother. This was something serious.
Helen, still in her cocktail dress, closed her book and set it on the coffee table. Then, she reached around and picked up her purse. She opened it and retrieved the jewellery box from it.
Her heart raced as she gradually turned back round to Ashley. She saw the curiosity in her daughter’s eyes as Ashley quizzed the serious look she had on her face. The same feelings of apprehension plagued her again. She was so close to giving this necklace to her. Now that it’s out of her purse, she couldn’t go back.
“One last gift,” Helen’s voice whispered as her hand hovered with the box sitting on it.
Ashley saw the intensity in her mother’s eyes. She didn’t know what to expect from what was being held out to her. Bit by bit, Ashley took it from her palm and held it. She scrutinized the small velvet box for a minute or two. Her thumb traced the seam. Helen watched her daughter scrutinize it just as she had when she first held it. Helen found herself holding her breath as Ashley opened it.
“Wow. Pretty,” Ashley breathed, “Very pretty.”
Ashley took it out from its bed and held it up close.
“D? Mom, I think you’ve hit your head a few too many times.”
Helen tried a small smile.
“Ashley . . . It’s from your father.”
“My- my father?”
Helen nodded softly, “Your father he- . . . He had it made before he died.”
“Which was before I was born,” Ashley added.
“I kept it . . . and every year on your birthday and every year at Christmas I would ask myself countless questions. I questioned if I should give it to you this year or wait another, I wondered what questions you could have about him if you knew it was from him, and how you would react upon being given it. I had preoccupations regarding anything and everything when it came to that necklace. When I see it, I’m always reminded of your father.”
Ashley listened closely as she looked at the necklace.
“Do you know why he picked ‘D’ as the initial?”
’His surname is Druitt.
“He wished that we would have a daughter when I became pregnant with you. He imagined what you would look like when you were born. He pictured you looking up at him from his arms with big blue eyes and blonde hair. Your father wanted to meet you so very much . . . but the gods weren’t smiling on him. He said that he was going to explain the ‘D’ engraving when you were born,” Helen explained tenderly, “I think he was wanting to prove a point - that he was right predicting a daughter. In my heart of hearts, I believe that ‘D’ means ‘Daughter’ and that when you wear it; you’ll always be his little girl, the girl that he never got to meet but the daughter that he’ll be looking over.”
Ashley looked at the silver bulb, taking in the words that her mother used. Helen knew that she had lied to her daughter about the origin of the necklace and kept the details as vague as possible. As she was explaining what the letter could possibly stand for, by the end, she had convinced herself that it didn’t mean Druitt but that it meant ‘Daughter’ instead. A part of her knew that John had thought about the double meaning of the initial. He had wished for their child to be a girl and that she would grow in beauty and intellect, like her mother. As Helen looked at Ashley and as she watched her hold the necklace, she could see John leaning against the doorframe and smiling happily.
“Wow,” Ashley whispered, “That’s really cool.”
“He loved you so completely before you even had a heartbeat.”
Ashley took the comfort from what her mother said. She had been thinking about her father increasingly as of late. She didn’t even know what he looked like, not really but he had good taste; after all, he did fall in love with her mother and bought this beautiful necklace.
Helen took it from Ashley’s hand and motioned for Ashley to turn around, holding the necklace up expectantly. Ashley did so and held her hair up and let Helen clasp the necklace around her neck. The silver chain rested perfectly along the contours of her neck and the bud rested pristinely on her chest. It suited her flawlessly.
“Beautiful,” Helen commented softly as she looked at Ashley.
“I really love it,” Ashley whispered looking down at the only piece of her dad that she had. She leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek again, “Thank you, Mom.”
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too.
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