From the Past When in the Navy one brown eye one blue each Chapter 6 pt. 2

From the Past When in the Navy one brown eye one blue each Chapter 6 pt. 2

Brett just stared at Amelia. There was an uncomfortable silence.

Bradly shifted and then spoke, "Actually, now that Daddy is gone, she's decided to step back from public life. She's now the official titleholder, or was, anyway."

"Was?" asked Brett, looking over at Bradly.

"Yes, she abdicated her title. Passed it on down. 'Retiring from public life is a euphemism for letting go of the title and passing it down."

"So, you are now the duke?" asked Brett.

"Yes, for my sins. I was born twelve minutes before Milly, so now, I am the Lord of the manor, His Grace, the Duke of Ipswich," answered Bradly, simply.

"Am I supposed to call you My Lord or bow or curtsey or something?" said Brett, pursing his lips. He had no idea if his kids had the same sense of humor; time to find out.

"Well, strictly speaking, according to protocol..." started Amelia.

"Yeah, I seem to recall us colonials having a little war with your lot so we wouldn't have to bow and scrape and all that crap," interrupted Brett, dryly.

"Yes, well, of course," said Amelia, cheeks a little red, embarrassed. Bradly just grinned at her, obviously enjoying her discomfort, as siblings are wont to do.

There was another silence.

"So, where do we go from here?" asked Brett, getting up to get another beer. "I mean, you came to see me, I know you exist, now what?"

"Well," said Amelia, exchanging a glance with Bradly, "We were hoping to get to know you? I mean, it would be nice to know some family history, you know? Any uncles or aunts, or cousins out there for us to meet?" asked Amelia, half hopefully.

"'Farid not. Only child. My parents died when I was seventeen, so there's just me."

"Well, not anymore," smiled Amelia, and it went through Brett like a knife. So Much Like Her Mother!

"Won't that be a bit...awkward? Long lost daddy shows up from the US. I mean, won't that impact your titles?" Brett wanted to know, settling back into his chair after passing a bottle to both his children. His brain had started working again, seeing the bigger picture.

His. Children. ...Jesus.

"Well, I hope you understand, Dad... we cannot go around admitting this. In terms of the title, well, stuff like this is as much part of the Royal Family as crowns and pomp and ceremony. I mean anyone who really thinks that Harry is really Charles's biological son..." Amelia trailed off as she saw Bradly shaking his head vigorously at her.

"Anyway," she said, after a second, trying to get back on track. "The Palace will just simply issue a denial if it comes out, and that'll be that. Short of a DNA test, which is the end of it. They just ignore it. It is what the Royal Family are exceptionally good at doing, unfortunately. So, not really worried there, as long as we don't flaunt it."

"That does mean," added Bradly, "We can't officially recognize you, Dad. There is no point in waving a red flag, either. Neither one of us particularly want to flaunt what happened with mother all those years ago, and I am sure she does not either. With that in mind, I hope you are not really looking to make a big deal out of all this?"

"If I was, do you think I would have let your mother walk away?" demanded Brett.

"No. Quiet. Point taken," answered Amelia, quietly.

"It IS a big deal though... to me," muttered Brett.

"Yes, I can imagine. Us too. We spent the entire flight talking about it. Wondering who you are, reading Mum's dossier over and over. And thankfully, you really are everything we had hoped. Right, Brad?"

"Definitely," agreed Bradly, firmly. "Great taste in beer too," he said, holding up his almost finished bottle.

"Well, that's nice. I warn you though, I really know nothing about being a dad. Never figured it was on the cards for me."

"Don't worry, we'll guide you through it," Amelia said, leaning forward to take his hand again.

"One thing though. Please, while our father was never really that available, or there that much, he did his best, so please, do not disparage him? That would mean we could not be around you, and no one wants that."

"Oh please, the man was a saint! I am just jealous he got you and your mother for all those years," said Brett, emphatically. "Nothing but respect here."

He paused, then asked, gently, "Do you think he knew?"

"Well, Dad wasn't the most present person when it came to family, to be frank. I do not think he really had a clue what to do as a father, either. But as Milly said, he did his best. Tried to steer us right, have the talks he thought we needed to have, made sure he turned up for music recitals, and so on. But where he really excelled was at running the estate. He was a whiz with animal husbandry, for example, so I would not be the least bit surprised if the heterochromia in our eyes tipped him off. But if it did, he never said a word to us or loved us any less than he was capable. For that alone, he deserves respect," said Bradly, reflectively.

"To the Duke," said Brett, raising his bottle. "May a good man rest in peace."

"Hear, hear," agreed Amelia, and they all three raised their bottles. They all took a long drink and sat for a moment, each with their own thoughts.

"So, are you in town for long? What does your mother think about you coming to see me?" asked Brett, conversationally, without thinking - more for something to say to break the awkward silence than anything.

"Well, since we are now the official royal representatives, we have to go home as soon as possible, I am afraid. Mummy has moved out of the main house and into one of the small cottages on the estate. It is all up to us now, so we must be around and be seen. Plus, I have the practice to get back to," answered Amelia.

"Practice?" inquired Brett, interested.

"Yes, I'm a solicitor. Lawyer, you would say. First-year of it, at a local group. Lots of pro bono work, local land trusts, things like that. Brad is now the Lord of the Manor, and his full-time work is now the Duchy."

"But" interjected Bradly, "we'd like to extend an invitation for you to visit. Have a holiday. Spend some time with us, so you can see our lives. And we would rather like to portion some time to come out here, and see how you live, if that is, okay?"

Brett shrugged. "Well, yes, I mean, of course. I just... do not want to make it awkward. With your mother, I mean."

There was yet another meaningful glance between the two of them.

"Dad..." said Amelia, carefully, "I know Mum was the love of your life... well like I said, she is decided to take a step back from public life. It is a totally understood thing. Lost her husband, so she will wear her tweeds and do her gardening and just retreat a bit. Happens all the time in our strand of society. And to do that, she is going to just... take off for a bit."

Amelia was clearly groping for words, constantly looking back at her brother for encouragement and confirmation of what she was saying. Bradly was nodding at her, clearly sympathetic to her phrasing.

"She's decided to take a cruise. She says she has wonderful memories of some time spent at sea."

Amelia was concentrating on Brett as she spoke, watching and evaluating his response to her words.

"For six months. Around the world. She is booked a suite -- quite one of the nicest on the ship in fact.

Two bedrooms, Private deck, steward, the whole deal."

"Okay?" said Brett, not following.

"And... it leaves in two days."

"From San Diego."

There was a sudden silence as Brett's eyes bulged and understanding flowed into him.

"She's HERE?" he said, abruptly standing up. "Now?"

Amelia grinned at Bradly and then smiled even wider at her father.

"A hotel downtown. The Coronado. We are staying there too."

Brett looked wildly around. "She wants to see me. Me?"

"Well, as long as you have your passport, the idea was that you might want to join her. You have nothing going on that you cannot leave, right?"

"I..." Brett fell back into the chair. "This is for real, right? She is here?"

Amelia nodded, vigorously. "And waiting for you. If you want, Dad."

"She's here," Brett muttered to himself. "I've got to...pack, get the house pick up. I need to go; do you think it would be okay if I just showed up? What should I wear?" he was babbling now.

Amelia glanced at Bradly, who was also grinning broadly.

"I think it would be more than okay, Dad."

Brett stood outside the hotel room door, nervous despite himself. Twenty-three years. He had traveled the world, seen storms and other things, experienced what life had to offer, and yet, what was inside this room terrified him; something -- no someone -- he desperately wanted.

He raised his hand to knock, but before he could land his hand, the door opened. And there she was. A little aged, but the same woman. Same eyes, same porcelain skin, some crows, and wrinkles, but the same smile. Same inviting mouth. Same...everything. It made his pulse race, just looking at her.

"Hello, Sailor, ready to pick up where we left off?"

'Oh god yes,' thought Brett, 'All good things come to those who wait.'