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By Any Other Name	By : cowgirl65 Category: 1 through F > The Big Valley Views: 2533 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I in no way own The Big Valley, the characters or situations from the show. I make no money from writing this, just the personal satisfaction of (hopefully!) entertaining those who love the show as much as I do.

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The ride back to Stockton was quiet. Jarrod was glad he hadn’t brought his private car; being alone with Heather on the four-hour trip would have been unbearable. Even sitting next to her in the first class carriage was hard enough.

Neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before, but in the end, Heather had come to the same conclusion as Jarrod, that trying for some kind of future would be better than none at all. He really didn’t know if he could go through with it, though. Thinking he could be with her as her brother had been easier to believe when she wasn’t sitting next to him, when he wasn’t taking in her scent with every breath. He’d be spending a lot more time in San Francisco or Sacramento, Jarrod thought glumly. There was no way he could be beside her every day.

Heather hung on with tooth and nail to her composure. She’d always prided herself on her self-control, stoically ignoring the distain she’d encountered most of her life. That control was now threatened by the fact that the future she’d dreamed of, that against all hope had finally come true, had been ripped away from her. True, she’d gain a family and a name, but that was a pittance as compare to the all-consuming love she’d found with Jarrod. Heather clasped her hands tightly. She’d promised him and herself she’d go to Stockton and meet her father’s family, but she had once been willing to leave to preserve Jarrod’s future and had to accept it might come to that again.

*

Victoria rubbed the polishing cloth over the gleaming silver candlestick. The wire had arrived that morning from Jarrod to inform them that he had located Heather Thomson and that she would be coming back with him on the noon train. Victoria scrubbed at a non-existent smudge. She really didn’t know what she was going to do when she was confronted with the product of her husband’s affair. Oh, she understood what he had written and was certain he’d told the truth about his loss of memory, but the fact still remained that she would never know if Tom cared for Heather’s mother more than he had his wife or if he came home for duty and not out of love. She’d put on her bravest face for her sons, but in truth, Tom had betrayed his marriage vows, fathered a child on another woman and she wasn’t sure if she could accept that woman’s daughter into her home, let alone her heart.

Victoria sighed. It wasn’t the young woman’s fault, she told herself again. Heather Thomson had the right to know her brothers and sister and the heritage that was as much hers as theirs. Closing her eyes tightly, Victoria wasn’t sure how she was going to tell Audra or Eugene. She would have to send a letter soon, she knew, but it would likely be the hardest thing she’d ever had to write. The letter to her had probably been the hardest thing Tom ever wrote as well.

Hearing the staccato of hooves coming up the drive, Victoria put down the silver and took a deep breath to compose herself. She lifted the light curtain from the French door and saw her eldest son help a lovely blonde woman out of the buggy. Victoria stood straight and tall under the arch to the foyer as the door opened and Jarrod ushered the young woman inside.

“Mother,” he said as he took off his hat, “I’d like you to meet Heather Thomson.”

Victoria was rooted to the spot as she saw echoes of her husband. Heather had the same blue eyes and the same blonde hair, but her features were all her own, Victoria realized as she made herself take a step and extend her hand. She was at least a head shorter than Victoria’s own children, her nose was slightly more pert than Audra’s and she lacked the dimples present in all her children except Jarrod.

“Welcome to our home,” the matriarch said graciously, extending her hand.

“Thank you,” the blonde replied softly. Victoria could feel the tension in the young woman and saw the same tension reflected in her son’s posture. She realized the situation wasn’t any more comfortable for them than it was for her and resolved to do her best to make it easier on everybody. They were all innocent victims; the only real guilt lay with Tom and with Heather’s mother, assuming blame could be placed at all.

“Please, come in and sit,” Victoria invited and Heather and Jarrod followed her into the parlour. Heather sat hesitantly on one of the chairs and Jarrod moved to stand by the fireplace. “Can I get you anything?” the silver haired lady asked. “Tea, coffee?” Heather shook her head and Victoria sat on the settee.

“I take it Jarrod told you about the letter?” At Heather’s nod, Victoria continued. “I hope he let you know that you have a place here with your family if you want it.”

“Yes, he did,” was the soft reply.

Victoria glanced over at her eldest son, who was staring at his hand resting on the mantel. She reflected how difficult it must be for him to find out that his father had faults like any other man. Since his death, the residents of the valley had put Tom Barkley on a pedestal and she knew how hard Jarrod strived to live up to that legacy. Turning back, she put on a smile designed to put Heather at ease. “So, tell me a bit about yourself. How long have you been in San Francisco?’

“Ever since my mother passed away a few months ago,” the blonde replied. “There wasn’t anything for me in Strawberry after that.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” Victoria said sincerely. She remembered how her children felt after the loss of their father. “And what have you been doing there?”

“I was…” Heather’s voice faltered and she glanced up at Jarrod. “I was working as a housekeeper,” she finally answered.

Jarrod straightened up. “I have some work that needs to be done,” he said abruptly. “Mother,” he went over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Heather, if you’ll both excuse me.” Jarrod strode out of the room in the direction of the library.

Victoria was concerned by her son’s obvious disquiet, but her thoughts were interrupted by the door been thrown open and the yell of, “Mother, where are you? Ciego told me Jarrod’s home!”

“Nick,” a quiet voice chastised, “I’m surprised your whole family isn’t deaf.”

Victoria and Heather turned to see the loud cowboy stride into the room hand in hand with his wife.

“Nick, Carrie,” Victoria introduced, “this is Heather Thomson. Heather, my son Nick and his wife Carrie.”

“Hello,” she said politely as she rose to her feet. Carrie came over and gave her a quick hug.

“Welcome to the family,” the brunette said.

Nick extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.” Heather shook it and they all stood there awkwardly until Nick cleared his throat and asked, “Where’s Jarrod?”

“He’s in the library,” Victoria told them as she stood as well. “He said he had some work to do.”

“Huh. Well, then, I guess it’s my job to show my new sister around the place.” He extended one arm to Heather and one to Carrie. “Ladies?” he invited.

*

Jarrod looked up as he heard voices from outside. Past the boarded up window he saw Nick leading Heather and Carrie in the direction of the stables. He hoped Heather would enjoy seeing the horses Nick was so proud of. He sighed as he dragged a hand over his face and looked down again at the paper in front of him. If anyone had asked, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them what it was even about.

Jarrod picked up his glass and frowned when he realized it was empty. Getting up, he walked over to the drink table and poured himself another generous helping of scotch. It wouldn’t really help, but the alcohol would at least numb the pain for a while. If the scotch helped him get through the next couple days until he could leave for the city… well, he’d just do what he had to. Anything to take away the memory of her scent, the sweetness of her lips, the fire that her hands created as they roamed across his skin, the incredible bliss when their bodies joined as one. He gulped down the fiery liquor and refilled it as he tried without success to push away the sound of her laughter and the lilt of her voice, her teasing and intelligence that made him laugh as well. Jarrod sat down heavily behind the desk again and buried his head in his hands, wondering how he’d ever find the strength to go on without her.
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By Any Other Name