by HollyJeen
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and
have been used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.
Victoria Barkley paused at the doorway to the family
study. Though the room was lit only by the flickering fireplace, she knew which
of the Barkley children was hunched in the chair pondering its light. Taking a
deep breath, she calmed her rapidly beating heart before entering. This night
marked the end of a difficult time for her, including the discovery of Tom’s
letter in Strawberry and the unveiling of his statue.
Seeing Heath wearing his father’s boots had been
bittersweet for Victoria. While she was glad to see that Heath was finding his
way into the family fold, she couldn’t help but resent the fact that the son
who most matched his father – in looks, temperament and, of all things, boot
size – was the one not born of her husband’s love for her.
She was often frustrated with herself for this small
resentment, for she was quickly growing to love Heath as her own. She didn’t
blame him at all for his father’s indiscretion, but still it was hard to see a
daily reminder of her husband’s betrayal of their marriage vows. Finding Tom’s
letter had been a balm to her soul, but she had not yet had time to process all
she had learned in the small mining town.
Moving farther toward the lone figure by the hearth, a
small smile graced her face. How this boy reminds me of you, Tom! she marveled.
I wish you could see him with your other children. How proud you would be of
all of them. Glancing quickly toward her husband’s portrait, she sent a brief
prayer to him that he would help guide her as she reached out to his angry
child.
“Heath,” she whispered softly. “It’s late. Are you
alright?”
At her voice, the figure in the chair stirred, rising to
his feet in the lady’s presence. He sent her a crooked smile and held out his
arm. As he settled her in one chair and again sank into the depths of the
other, he studied her intently.
Victoria found herself unexpected uncomfortable with this
direct appraisal. What does he see when he looks at me? she wondered. Does he
hate me for living the life his mother never had? Can he ever think of me the
way he does of her? Victoria had been surprised when she first realized that
this was exactly what she wanted. Somehow, the quiet man had worked his way
into her heart, and she found herself putting aside her own feelings to ease
the pain she saw in his eyes.
“Heath, I am so proud of you. You have shown such courage
and strength. Your father would have been so pleased to see you today. I’m sure
your mother would have as well.” Victoria spoke gently, so was surprised when
Heath suddenly bolted from his chair.
Watching him pace in short, jerky steps from one side of
the fireplace to the other, she waited to see if he would confide in her.
Her patience was soon rewarded. “I don’t understand,”
Heath grated. “Why? Why didn’t she just tell him? It coulda all been
different…” With a frustrated sigh, Heath leaned his head on the mantle.
Victoria could see that, like herself, the time in Strawberry had stirred many
old hurts in the young man.
Rising to stand at his shoulder, she sought to find
answers only the dead could provide. “I don’t know, Heath. I wish she had told
him. I wish that you had known us growing up. I wish… so many things.”
“She coulda at least told me. How could she ... she lied
to me! She shoulda told me a long time ago. It was my right to know!”
Heath again resumed his restless pacing, leaving Victoria
to ponder the fire and the portrait sitting above it. He’s right. Heath was
entitled to all his brothers and sister had. Why didn’t she tell us? Knowing
the portrait would reveal nothing, Victoria turned her thoughts to a woman she
never knew – she who had held her husband, the only other woman who had held
his heart. She asked this woman the question foremost in her mind, Why, Leah?
It could have turned out so much better for you – for him. Why couldn’t you
tell Heath that he was Tom’s son?
Victoria stopped, stunned, as realization hit. Of course!
How could we have all been so blind! It was right there the entire time.
Reaching out to Heath, she stopped his erratic pacing and
urged him again to the chair. “Heath,” she said, caressing his face. “It was
your right to know. Somehow, though, I think Leah did let you know.”
Briefly shaking his head, the young man looked at her in
confusion. As was his way, though, he didn’t voice his thoughts. Instead, he
simply waited for her to continue.
“I don’t know why Leah didn’t come to us. I’m afraid we
may never know that for sure. But, I do know this – she wanted you to find out
about your father. Heath, let me ask you a question. What was your mother’s
name?”
Blinking in puzzlement, Heath answered. “Thompson. Leah
Thompson.”
“Are you sure?” Victoria returned. “Who was this Thompson?
As far as we know, Leah never married, so she should have had her family name.
But Heath, your uncle’s name is Simmons.”
Heath’s bewilderment at Victoria’s increasingly excited
manner was evident in his face. “I always reckoned that he changed his name.
Figured he had some trouble with the law.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied. “I think Simmons
probably is his name. I think it was your mother that changed hers.”
“Ma’am, what are you saying?” Heath asked, feeling himself
drawn to her intensity.
“I believe, Heath, that your mother didn’t give you her
name. I believe that she took yours. She chose the name you would carry, and
then used it herself. By doing so, she gave us the answer to all our questions.
We just haven’t known where to look.” With a short laugh, she said, “I can’t
believe even Jarrod didn’t figure it out!”
“I don’t understand…” Heath began, but she silenced him
with a soft finger on his lips.
“Neither did I, but I do now. Heath, your mother did tell
you your father’s name. Your name is Heath Thompson. Thomp-son… Tom’s son. Leah
did tell you who your father was, in the only way she knew how.”
Victoria watched as understanding slowly dawned her
step-son’s face. She matched his crooked grin with one of her own. “I believe
that Leah probably planned things very differently than they turned out. This
shows that she didn’t intend to keep you from the Barkleys forever. While we
may not know why she handled things this way, I do know that this was her way
of giving you your father’s name, even though you didn’t know it at the time.
See, Heath. Even before you were born, she was already looking for ways to tell
you. She tried her best, and that’s all that’s really important, isn’t it?”
Heath squeezed the hand still caressing his face and
nodded. “You’re right. She did her best.” With a deep sigh, he rose, pulling
her with him. Gazing at his father’s portrait, he nodded again. “They both
did.”
With that, he held his arm out for Victoria. Tucking her
hand firmly in his, she led him out of the study. The flames remained, softly
illuminating the face of Tom Barkley as his wife and son together climbed the
stairs of the Barkley mansion.
THE END