Rated: G
Length: This is a two-shot
Characters: Robert Fordham, Mick, Beth
A/N: This is for the Unfinished Business challenge. Many thanks to PNWgal and Moonlighter for the idea bouncing and feedback.
I could never do this alone. The Photograph on the Wall - Part 1
Stunned and confused, Robert Fordham let the photograph fall from his hand as he watched the classic Mercedes drive away.
“Dad? Dad! What’s wrong? Why did you run out the door? Is Mick coming to my party?”
Robert quickly composed himself as he picked up the photograph from the ground and turned to face his young son on the front porch. “He must have gotten called away, Jacob. Come on, let’s go find some cake and ice cream!” As he guided his son back into the house, Robert paused on the porch to look again at the list of names on the back of the photograph and then turned to look up the street one last time. Mick St. John, we have some unfinished business to discuss, he thought to himself.
MLMLMLML
Mick opened his office door and was momentarily speechless.
“Mr. St. John, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m…”
“Robert Fordham. Of course I remember you,” Mick said as he shook Robert’s hand and stepped back. “Please, come in.”
“Thank you,” Robert said as he walked inside. Mick closed the door behind him and then led the way into his office as Robert continued to speak. “I know I should have called first…” He let the sentence hang in the air.
“I happen to be free right now so it’s not a problem. And please, call me Mick.” He pointed to a chair opposite his desk for Robert and then walked around and sat down behind his desk. “What can I do for you?”
Opening a folder he had been carrying Robert answered, “First, I have this picture for you that Jacob drew.” Robert slid the crayon drawing across the desk to Mick. “He wanted you to have it and had planned to give it to you at his welcome home party last month but you…”
Mick looked at the drawing and cleared his throat. “Yes, I had intended to come, but got called away at the last minute,” he lied. “Please thank him for me.” He searched around in his desk drawer for a magnet and then hung it up on one of his file cabinets. As he returned to his seat, Robert continued.
“I figured that was what happened. I saw you parked across the street and then you suddenly drove away.”
“You saw me?”
“Yes. Jacob and I saw you through the window and then I ran outside to find you and show you this,” Robert said, pulling out a photograph from his folder and sliding it across the desk.
“What’s this?” Mick asked, picking it up.
“It’s a picture from World War II; my dad’s company.” Robert paused for effect. “And that’s you, standing right beside my dad.”
When you’ve been around as long as I have, you think that nothing can surprise you anymore, Mick thought. “Well, I admit it looks like me, but obviously it can’t be. Any soldiers still alive from World War II would have to be in their eighties or nineties by now.” He looked up at Robert with a grin. “Do I look over eighty years old to you?”
“Turn it over,” Robert said. Mick turned the photograph over and immediately recognized Lilah’s handwriting, listing the names of all the soldiers. And there, right below Ray’s name, was his name. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“See? It says ‘Mick St. John’ right there, below my dad’s, ‘Ray Fordham’,” Robert said as he leaned across the desk and pointed to Mick’s name.
“I was named for my grandfather,” Mick said casually, turning the picture over again as if to inspect the faces. “I bet this is him. I don’t have many photos of him, and I’ve never seen one from his war years.” He went through the motion of bringing the photograph closer to his eyes as if to see it better. “I was always told I looked like him, but I never realized how much. He must have been only about twenty when this was taken.” He gave it a push back towards Robert’s side of the desk. “Thanks for showing it to me,” he said as he looked directly into Robert’s eyes.
Robert met the stare, and then picked up the picture. “So you’re saying this isn’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“How could it be?”
Robert shrugged. “The thing is, you said that you grew up nearby, and that you ‘kind of’ knew my folks, though I don’t remember ever hearing them talk about you.”
Mick felt a little pang in his undead heart.
“And when I searched the county records online,” Robert continued, “I found the war record for a Mick St. John and his marriage certificate from 1952 when he married a… Coraline Duvall,” he finished after checking some notes in his folder. “But I couldn’t find any record that he had any children. I also couldn’t find a death certificate.”
Mick’s mind was racing a mile a minute. “Courthouse records get lost all the time. Floods, fires, stuff like that.”
Robert went on as if he hadn’t heard Mick. “I also found this, when I went to put the photo back in the frame on the day of the party.” He handed Mick an old yellowed letter. “My mother always labeled the back of pictures. We used to kid her about it.” Robert got a faraway look in his eye for a second. “So when Jacob pointed out to me that he saw ‘Mick’ in the picture on the wall, I was in such a hurry to open the back of the frame to see if your name was there, I didn’t notice this letter fall out. It was between the photo and the cardboard backing.”
Mick took the fragile letter and carefully opened it. He was again faced with Lilah’s script. As he read, it took all his self-control to keep a straight face and not show any emotion. His insides were a different story.
My dearest Mick,
I am writing this from my heart, though I know you will never see it. Our time together was short but precious and meant the world to me. I thought I had lost my husband; you thought you had lost your best friend. We needed each other to cope with our loss and you filled the empty hole in my heart. The news of Ray’s survival made me happy and sad at the same time. But we both knew my future was with my husband. I will never forget you and I have no regrets. I will keep you forever locked away in a special place in my heart. May you lead a long and happy life.
Your darling Lilah
Mick took a deep breath as he set the letter down. “What are you getting at, Robert? I’ve told you, that isn’t me in that picture.”
“There’s more.” Mick almost winced, wondering what else Robert had uncovered. “This photo didn’t hang on the wall as I was growing up. After my dad died, my mother had me get a box out of the attic. She looked through it and pulled out a few old pictures from the war years. She told me at the time that my dad never liked to be reminded of those days and wouldn’t let her display them. Since he was gone, she wanted me to hang them up, so I did. When I was finished, I saw her kiss her fingertips and press them to the glass. Twice. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Figured she was just missing my dad and giving him her love. But after finding that letter, I think she was giving a kiss to my dad and… to you.”
Mick sighed and sat up straight in his chair, folding his hands in front of him on the desk and choosing his words carefully. “Robert. It does seem – probable – that your mother had a special kind of – friendship – with the Mick St. John in that company picture. But how many times can I say it? It’s not me. It can’t be. I’m 30 years old. That has to be my grandfather.”
Robert stood up from his chair and paced around the office. Mick could sense how frustrated and confused he was. He felt sorry for him, but he couldn’t see how telling the truth would make Robert feel better. He figured it would only make him more upset. Not to mention what Josef might do if he ever found out Mick had confessed to being a vampire.
“But there are other odd things, too. Besides no record of your ‘grandfather’ ever having children. Your hand, for one.”
“My hand?”
“It’s always cold.”
“Poor circulation.”
“And the night you rescued Jacob, the police said several shots were fired in a small area. That guy couldn’t have been that bad of a shot. Yet apparently you weren’t even injured.”
“I was lucky.”
“And the wall. They said you broke down a brick wall with your bare hands to rescue Jacob.”
“Adrenalin is known to give people extra strength in times of stress, surely you’ve heard that. And besides, that wall had only just been built; the mortar hadn’t hardened yet. Look, where are you going with all this?”
Robert stopped pacing and faced Mick. “I think you’re different. Superhuman or something. And that my mother was in love with you.”
Mick got up from behind his desk and walked around to Robert. He guided him back to his chair and then sat on the edge of his desk facing him with his arms crossed. “Look, Robert. I can tell you’re upset by this picture and this, well, this love letter of your mother’s to another man. But you’re grasping at straws here. Use your head; you know I can’t be that man.”
Robert hung his head. “Yes, I guess I know. But I can’t help thinking… I was wondering… I just need…” He looked up at Mick with pleading eyes.
“What? What do you need?” Mick asked gently.
“I was premature. Biggest preemie the doctor had ever seen they said.” Robert’s voice cracked. “I need to know if Ray Fordham is really my father.”
So, he figured it out, Mick thought.
“If the man in this picture is your grandfather,” Robert went on as he pointed at the photograph, “then your DNA should be enough to match to mine, right? You’re a private detective. You can run those kinds of tests, can’t you?”
At last, something I can do to help him! “Yes, I know a place to get that done. I even have some swabs in my evidence kit I can use.” Robert’s face relaxed. “But Robert, listen to me.” Mick leaned forward and placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Whatever the results of this test, Ray Fordham will always be your father. Family isn’t only about DNA. He raised you and loved you and was your father in every sense of the word. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Robert nodded, too choked up to speak. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say.
Mick stood up and got his evidence bag out of the closet. He took a sterile swab, swiped the inside of Robert’s cheek and placed it into a plastic evidence bag. “I’ll drop this off at the lab along with one of my own. We should get the results in a week or so. I’ll give you a call, okay?”
Robert stood up and gathered his things. Mick walked him back to the door. “I’ll be in touch,” Mick said.
“Thank you.”
After Robert left, Mick went to his desk and pulled out the BioAnalysis DNA test results that showed Robert was not related to him. He was able to make a copy and change the dates of both the sample collection and the test date to the following week. Then he returned it to the envelope and put it back in his desk.
To be continued...
Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments. I'm so glad you are liking the story so far. 
That hair on Robert's shoulder might not have been his...
At the end of 'What's Left Behind', the expression on Robert's face indicates the wheels are beginning to turn. Your story is a perfect continuation, with Robert confronting Mick with all the little clues that Mick may be more to him than a kind-hearted PI who offered his services to find Jacob. 
