Scene 1
The windswept cliff on the southern tip of Regent Island proved daunting for Morgan Benedict, but Pierce and Arlie were enthralled by the beauty. Cresswell was unaffected as he walked the group along the narrow strip of grass between the cliff and dense forest.
"Mr. Cresswell, this place is beautiful," Arlie called up to him. "Why do you want to sell?"
"Lived here most my life, want to see something else," he replied. "My brother's got himself an island in the South Pacific."
"Forgive me, Mr. Cresswell," Benedict intruded, "But I don't see the point in our trouping all the way up here."
His experience the day before had not convinced him of the inappropriateness of a business suit, though he had loosened his collar and tie and removed his jacket.
"A lot of the other people who live on this island are upset that I'd even consider selling to a corporation. They want the land to stay as it is, but I couldn't find someone to buy it and live here like I have—not for what it's worth."
"Understandable, Mr. Cresswell, but—"
"I have a responsibility to my neighbors, Mr. Benedict." Cresswell finally stopped walking, turning around to face his prospective buyers. "I brought the three of you up here hoping you'd understand and respect my decision. I'm selling to Marshall Industries, because their plans won't affect the area as harshly."
"Thank you, sir," Pierce said, shaking the man's hand. "You won't regret the decision."
"Hmm," Cresswell grumbled, his expression doubtful. "Bring whatever papers I'll need to sign next week."
"I'll put the lawyers right on it."
"Hmm... well, you can go on back to your cars," Cresswell gestured. "My place is just beyond here."
"Well, that settles it, then," Pierce said, turning to Morgan as Cresswell walked away and extending his hand. "Nice seeing you again, Morgan."
"As always. Now, as soon as everything's signed with the old man, Benedict is prepared to make an offer for the logging rights."
"It would hardly be lucrative for you. We plan to sacrifice as little of the natural environment as possible. It will be one of the resort's biggest draws."
"A compromise could benefit both of us. A golf course would be far more successful."
"I don't think so, but thank you for the offer."
Pierce offered Arlie his arm and they began walking ahead of Morgan back to the cars.
"You can't just brush us off like that!"
"I'd love to discuss it further with you," Pierce replied, "but I've promised the rest of the day to my wife."
Scene 2
Sara's food sat untouched on the plate in front of her, herself ravenous but too nervous to eat. After the first hour of waiting she forgot to keep her eyes on the crowd for Michael, so his sudden appearance at her side was more frightening than it was cause for relief. And he was so genuinely happy to find that she hadn't already left that he didn't notice her trepidation when he held her close.
"I can't do it," she finally said. "I can't spend a year in India and I can't leave... I love my family."
"Your father can't just keep them from seeing you."
"You don't understand it... legally he can't, at least not with Mom and Sam, but... that's what he wants and that's what they'll do. They won't question it."
"But the way you've always described your father in the past he always seemed so... loving."
"He is." Sara was insistent, almost defensive. "He is a very loving man, but until now none of us has done anything remotely questionable."
"Let's sit," Michael sighed. He continued to hold Sara's hands across the table. "If you're still living in the city, and you keep at him, eventually... wouldn't he come to his senses eventually? It's so new right now."
"I can't afford to live on my own."
"Then live with me! I've always said it. My family will welcome you, especially once they know the circumstances."
"I don't want a pity party, and despite what my being pregnant says I still hold very strong moral principles. I can't just... live with you."
Michael was taken aback by the strength in Sara's voice. She was firm, even angry, as if he had just insulted her for the first time. He took a long moment to reflect and choose his words carefully.
"We could get married."
The spontaneous expression of surprise that burst from Sara's chest turned out to be a laugh. She truly didn't mean to, although the thought was preposterous to her, and she instantly regretted letting her initial reaction show through when Michael's face sank.
"Michael, I didn't mean to sound like, but... but we can't get married. I love you, but..."
"Why not, Sara? I mean, think about it: we love each other, my family will support us, we both have part-time jobs... and the baby..."
"We're eighteen years old."
"I can count back... at least four generations, and that's just in one line of my family, of marriages that started that young. And the marriage lasted."
"Michael..."
"You're leaving yourself with no choices, Sara. You won't live with me, you won't accept money from my family, and you can't afford to live on your own."
"There is a problem, though, an important one. The legal age is nineteen, we're too young."
Michael thought for a moment, disappointed but undaunted. "We're at an airport. We could go anywhere."
"Planes cost money."
"I've got money, enough anyway. I saved quite a bit over the summer. There must be a travel agent in here somewhere, and I can find out where we can go. We can get married to day if you want... probably, anyway."
Sara sighed. "Not Las Vegas."
"Is that a yes?"
He was so incredibly happy, and Sara couldn't bear to let down anyone else she loved. Slowly, she nodded, putting on her best smile when he leaned over the table to kiss her.
"Can you stay here? Wait a little longer? I'll make the arrangements as quick as I can, I promise."
Sara nodded, gritting her teeth to force the smile to stay on her face. But as soon as Michael turned his back to leave she lost the fight to hold back tears.
Scene 3
"This is home, honey."
Jack hated waking his daughter up as he carried her from the car to the front door of their new home. Gemma hadn't slept the entire flight and only dozed off during the ride from the airport.
"What does it look like?"
"Well... we're sort of in the country. Lots of trees and grass, and this house has two acres of property."
"And the house?"
"It's pretty new... white... two levels. It looks quite small, but it's not really. Now, I'm going to put you down now so I can open the door, okay?"
Gemma nodded, rubbing her eyes. She stood close to Jack's side as he worked the key, picked up from the rental agent minutes before. He opened the door and guided Gemma inside, taking stock of the sparse furnishings as he went.
"Rented furniture for a rented house," he mumbled.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, honey. Wait here and I'll get our things."
Gemma tried her best to remain still in the front foyer, but she could feel the large open space before her and soon became nervous. Cautiously, she felt her way to wall and began walking, turning into the first room she encountered. She slowly groped into the room and found an armchair, then a sofa, without bumping into either. Her nerves began to calm and she smiled at her success.
"This is a sitting room," she announced confidently.
But in her confidence she forgot caution, and bumped into an end table on her next step. She pitched forward, knocking over a lamp that broke when it hit the hard wood floor. She screamed, but didn't move, instead standing perfectly still, aside from her trembling, as tears slid down her cheeks. Jack arrived moments later and swept her up.
"I didn't mean it," she whispered, her words barely audible through her frantic breath. Jack tried his best to hush her, but his soothing had no impact. "It was bad, I'm sorry. I should've stayed where you told me."
"Honey, no, it was an accident." Jack sat with her on the sofa and stroked her hair. "I shouldn't have left you alone without showing you around."
"You're... not... angry?" Gemma's words were still choked, but she was calming and settling into Jack's arms.
"No, honey, I'm not angry. Now, do you want to just sit here for a bit or go back and explore together?"
"Umm... explore."
Jack helped his daughter to her feet and tipped his head up when he stood, briefly closing his eyes as if to hide the helplessness revealed in them.
He mouthed his next words, letting only the slightest whisper pass through his lips as several tears of his own perched on his eyelashes.
"I can't do this alone."
Scene 4
"Auntie? Are you awake?"
The younger Grace poked her head into her aunt's room and whispered, smiling when she saw the newly hired nurse sitting at the edge of the bed reading from a the newspaper.
"Come in, Gracie," her aunt replied weakly. "I've just been hearing what's happening to those poor... migrants... refugees... whatever we're supposed to call them."
"Isn't it awful?" Grace replied. "And the papers call them 'boat people.'"
"I'll get back to my work now," the nurse said quietly, slipping past Grace through the door.
"How are you feeling, Auntie?"
Grace crossed the room and joined her aunt on the bed. Aunt Grace smiled and shifted to face her niece, taking her hand and gently squeezing it.
"Not well, I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry."
"You mustn't be, love."
"I know, but..." Grace drifted off, then paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I was thinking, Auntie, I'm only taking three classes this term. I want to take time off work to stay with you. The nurse can't be expected to keep you company all the time, and it would give me more time—"
"You will do no such thing! You enjoy working and I want you to keep working. The last thing I want to do is disrupt any of your lives."
"But, Auntie!"
"No, Gracie. I love you for wanting to, but I'll not have you stop working on my account." Grace laid back against her pillow and rested her voice, frustrated at how much energy it took just to talk. "It is true I would like a companion, but if I knew any of you were putting your lives on hold for me..."
"Well... I'll talk to Uncle John today, then. No sense waiting for Mom and Dad to get back."
"I would like that very much."
Grace smiled and kissed her aunt on the cheek.
"Would you like me to finish reading the paper to you? I promise I don't have anything else on my schedule today."
"Yes, please, and then we'll write a letter."
"To who?"
"Whom, dear. To the Times Colonist. I don't like the way they write about these refugees."
Scene 5
Flynn took stock of her bedroom after tossing her backpack on the bed. There were still so many remnants of her childhood. Not dolls or stuffed animals, she'd never really been into that, but other things... her bookshelves housed three years worth of university text books, but they also displayed every other book she'd ever owned—organized first by age group, then size.
The award wall was often a focus of personal pride for Flynn, but at other times it was merely a statement to her failures an underachievement. Framed elementary school certificates boasted success in English, Social Studies, and all-round achievement, but not one for Science to complete the pattern of success started by her older brothers and sisters. There was one small plaque for each year of straight A's in high school, something none of her siblings had achieved, but no picture of herself with the golden pig trophy for Biology. She hadn't taken Biology in grade 12, disgusted at the thought of spending a semester analyzing and finally dissecting a pig fetus, so she remained the only Flynn without her name engraved on it.
"I have to stop doing this to myself," Flynn mumbled.
"Doing what, Josie?"
Flynn jumped at the sound of her mother's voice and turned to find her in the doorway. Helen Flynn was immaculately dressed, as always, even though it was Sunday and she would spend the rest of the day inside.
"Nothing, Mom."
"We've been worried about you. You haven't slept at home for the past two days."
"I'm a big girl. You knew I was at Andrew's."
"I know, but we still worry. And you missed church. Laidey and Ross had us for lunch afterward."
"I'm sorry I missed it." Flynn did not attempt to add enthusiasm to her tone. She regretted it instantly, noting the confusion in her mother's features. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"
"Oh, no, nothing really. I can't get a hold of your brother at all, but that's hardly new."
"Jackson spends a lot of time at the hospital, and the time difference doesn't help."
"I've left countless messages on his answering machine and he never calls back."
"Try e-mail. There's no worry about waking someone up with that."
"Yes, that's a good idea. I will."
Unthinking, Flynn went to her dresser to change her shirt. Her mother glanced over just as she lifted the old one over her head.
"Oh, Josie, I'm glad to see you're gaining weight. You've always been so thin."
Flynn turned, ready to defend herself, but instead closed her door and stood in profile before the full length mirror.
"What do you mean 'gaining weight'?"
"Oh, just a little, honey. Mothers notice these things, especially since you've looked the same for years now." Helen patted her daughter's stomach and opened the door to leave. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were pregnant."
Flynn chuckled nervously, but could only keep her smile till her mother completely left the room. She paced with clenched fists, wide-eyed with panic and her breathing erratic. Finally, desperately, she sat with her phone in the middle of the bed and dialed.
* * *
Andrew heard his phone ringing as he approached his apartment. He quickly opened the door and left it so in his rush to answer.
"Hello?"
"Andrew..."
His heart sank when he heard the quivering, desperate voice on the other end.
"What happened?"
"It's not going to work."
Though she was not crying, the pain in Flynn's voice struck a deeper chord than it ever had before and he found himself struggling to keep his own composure.
"What happened?" he repeated.
"I'm already... showing. My mother noticed, but..." Flynn cleared her throat and mimicked her mother. "If she didn't know any better she'd think I was pregnant. Andy... pretty soon it will be too late to form a believable story to tell people."
"I know... I was thinking about it after you told me about Lou's call."
"She didn't call you back?"
"No... she doesn't need to. She got her message across and we both know what that was."
"You don't sound too upset about it."
"Yeah... but I was thinking—about you—after you left. What if... what if you were to move in with me?"
"That's abs—" Flynn cut herself short and Andrew waited for her to continue. "What would we tell people?"
"We've... we've been trying to keep away from each other for months and can't stand it anymore. We realized something we've been holding back for years after getting drunk together a few months back."
The door slammed shut and Andrew dropped the phone. He turned, expecting a burglar, and instead found Lou. Her body displayed the fury she should have felt, but her eyes shone with as much wrath as they did relief.
"I should have known," she laughed, more at herself than anything else. "I should have known."
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Coming up in Episode 10:
- Victoire unwittingly gives her daughter the perfect opportunity to go to Grace Marshall
- Lou's reaction surprises Andrew and Flynn
- Burke receives some disappointment after his initial success, but finds someone available to comfort him just when he needs it
- Grace discovers a promising job in the classified section, but is also the first to discover a scandal for Marshall Industries on the front page
- Michael and Sara do not have the cozy honeymoon Michael expected, and it only gets worse after they call their families