Homecoming - Christie Golden [5]
“You may call me Owen, if you like,” he said. “Now, let me see this lovely little grandchild of mine.”
Torres handed Miral over to her grandfather and reached for Tom’s hand. The older man handled the tiny infant with surprising grace, smiling down into her little face with obvious pleasure.
“You handle babies quite well ... Owen,” said Torres, trying out the name with caution.
Admiral Paris smiled. “I’ve certainly spent enough time with them. You never knew, did you, Tom, that I was the one in charge of diaper changing?”
Judging by Tom’s dumbfounded expression, he clearly did not. Torres smothered a smile at the thought [13] of this distinguished elderly man changing Tom’s soiled diapers, but the ease with which he carried Miral made his statement believable. He looked down at his new daughter-in-law and the smile faded somewhat.
“Tom and I discussed your family situation on our way here,” he said. B’Elanna felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her cheeks. “I understand that you are without family.”
“Not entirely correct,” she said. “My father ... chose not to be with me and my mother when I was young. I spoke to him for the first time in years just weeks ago. I have reason to believe that my mother died while we were in the Delta Quadrant.”
“That was what Tom said,” Admiral Paris confirmed. “I wanted to tell you that now you do have family. You and Miral are now dear and valued members of the Paris clan. My wife and I will love you like our own child.” He turned to look at Tom and said, “And that is a great deal indeed.”
Torres smiled, even though she felt like crying with joy. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot to us.”
“Now, when Voyager first appeared,” Admiral Paris continued, “we of course immediately notified all families. Nearly everyone has recorded messages from loved ones. Once I learned who my new daughter-in-law was, I checked to see if we had any for her. We did—two.”
Torres’s breath caught. She couldn’t think of any one person who’d want to send her a message, let alone two. Admiral Paris handed them to her. “If you’d like to view them in private, Tom and I can—”
[14] “No.” B’Elanna spoke swiftly. “You are my family now. Whatever this is, whoever sent it, you can watch it with me.”
After a moment Tom nodded and activated the viewscreen.
A handsome man with Torres’s dark hair and eyes appeared. B’Elanna stared. Father. It appeared that he’d been serious after all about wanting to stay in touch. She hadn’t let herself believe it.
“Hello, B’Elanna,” he said softly. “I got your letter. I’m glad you wrote me. It’s so good to hear from you, know that you’re well.” He hesitated. “I have a lot of explaining to do. I hope you’ll let me do it in person. I want so badly to see you again, to try to put things right ... if they can be put right. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll understand. But I want to let you know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. Maybe you’re old enough to understand that, and forgive me. I won’t come to the banquet if you don’t want me to. I’ll wait to hear from you. If I don’t ... well, that’s my answer, and I won’t bother you again.”
He blinked rapidly and his eyes looked very bright. “I love you, my little one. I hope to see you soon.”
She felt Tom’s arm around her, felt Admiral Paris’s sympathetic gaze. She swallowed hard.
“Do you want to see him?” Tom asked, very softly.
“I—I don’t know,” she managed. She fumbled for the second message and handed it to Tom. “Let’s see who this one’s from.”
Tom inserted the disk. A lovely but stern Klingon visage appeared, one Torres didn’t recognize, and said, “I am Commander Logt. We must soon meet and [15] speak of your mother. It is a matter of some urgency.”
Torres recalled the words she and her mother had spoken in Grethor, the Klingon hell:
We will see each other again.
In Sto-Vo-Kor.
In Sto-Vo-Kor ... or maybe ... when you get home.
Perhaps this Logt knew what her mother had meant.
Janeway’s heart lifted as Tuvok entered the room. Their eyes met, and he nodded. That was all she was going to get out of him, but it was