#gordon marion

[whibleysims]

Henry Marion returned home to the grand Marion Estate later that evening, staring up at its pointed castle structure. As snow piled on its tall A-frame rooftops with no end in sight, Henry wondered how much more weight those drafty attics could take on before finally caving in. The Estate was one of the oldest buildings in town.

He left the farm following another long day sitting at his father’s bedside with his stepmother Rhonda. John Jr. MacDonald gripped to his final days in a stubborn resilience against his age and his sickness. “The MacDonald blood is strong,” he told his three sons, all crowded around his to-be deathbed. Henry couldn’t shake the way his father spoke from his mind, it sounded like a dreadful curse. He promised to visit the farm again tomorrow.

After a short debrief with his wife Gina, he followed her lead to Gordon’s office.

“Mom? It’s, um, me and Henry.”

“Gina, Henry, yes; come in, come in. Sorry, I must’ve dozed off. Oh my, I have the worst headache.”

The couple shared a deep sigh of relief at Maggie’s animated voice. Gina forged on to explain, “We phoned Memorial Gardens for Dad; someone will be here within the hour to pick up his—. In the meantime, I made up the guest bedroom for you, Mom.”

“Thank you, dear. Oh, I’m sore all over. These chairs were not designed for napping, such rigid wooden frames. How Charlie ever found these comfortable in the first place is truly something else.”

“Speaking of Grandpa Charlie,” Gina began, taking timid steps into the office as she ventured, “we have some good news: Henry and I contacted the other family. We know the truth about Grandpa Charlie and the mystery child.”

“That’s my girl.”

Gina was excited to explain, “It’s all true. Her name is Charlotte Humble. Her mother, Clara Humble, and Grandpa Charlie met—”

Maggie stood and put up her hands halting her daughter from saying anything else. “That’s alright. We know now, that’s enough.”

“But, Mom?” Gina didn’t want to put the obvious into words, though her tone clued the room in regardless: Since the only person opposed to this connection isn’t opposing anymore, why stop now?

Henry naturally took on the role of mediator. “Gine, your mother’s right. Let’s not disturb the issue any further. I mean, here in your Dad’s office? We should just let it be for now.”

Gina clenched her jaw and looked to her feet, though she couldn’t see past her swelling stomach. If this epidemic taught anyone anything, why wasn’t the lesson that time together isn’t guaranteed? Was the virus psychically sapping everyone’s intelligence too? It seemed so plainly wrong to Gina to let their Humble discoveries go after everything they learned. Then she felt a jab from inside her gut. Their second born was due any day now.

“Here, Mom—feel, little Dean is kicking.”

“Finally, a good sign,” Henry cheered. “Signs of life!”

The proud grandmother lit up too. “Dean? Is that what you two decided on?”

“Dean Marion,” Henry happily announced. “It’s borrowing a little from your mother Jean’s name. Gina told me about both of her grandmothers. It’s important to us that all sides of our family get recognition one way or another, don’t you agree?”

Maggie Marion still had her sharp wit, she picked up on Henry’s clue. However, following a tearful pause, she replied, “Henry dear, I’m so sorry to hear about your Uncle Collin. He did more for this town than many may fully realize, I fear. I really mourn his friendship and all the great years of what could’ve been if we remained better friends. If you don’t mind me saying, Henry, I see a lot of Collin in you. Dignified, smart, loyal. Gordon loved those qualities in you too, though I never had the heart to point out the irony to him. I miss him; I’ll miss both of them for the rest of my days.” Her bottom lip quivered when she finished speaking.

This was the first Gina heard of her mother’s admiration for Collin MacDonald. She used to call him “an old suitor once,” but that was usually the end of it. As her mother spoke, Gina thought about Jack Parker and felt something click into place.

Henry welcomed his mother-in-law’s tight embrace. “Very few people take the time to appreciate old Uncle Collin. His politics didn’t exactly win him a great reputation.”

She smiled into his shoulder. “Indeed not.”

“Thank you, Maggie. Funny, I came here thinking more about Gord than Uncle Collin.”

“You’re very sweet, Henry. Truly two of a kind.”

[whibleysims]

“Goodnight, my dear sweet Gordon.”

Maggie Marion cried down the stairs, sniffing and wiping away tears that blurred her path to her late husband’s office. She stopped briefly to catch her breath when she heard the phone ring.

“Oh, Henry. I’m afraid Gina is trying to get Rachel to nap right now.”

…

“Collin. Oh dear, I’m so sorry.”

…

“Yes, I’m alright.” She swallowed, then cleared her throat. “Gordon passed just this morning, too.”

…

“No, no; don’t come home any earlier. You stay right where you are, stay at the farm, be with your father for as long as you can. Gina and I will manage things fine here. Stay well.”

What grieved Maggie more than learning an old friend died was knowing how little she bothered to stay in touch with him over the years. Whatever silly romantic rivalry that kept Gordon and Collin at odds seemed so frustratingly pointless now, in the end. Who knows what good memories they missed out on?

How curious the timing of life plays out when everything is written, said and done. There was never any doubt in Maggie’s heart about choosing rightly, about choosing Gordon Marion. But back in the day, Collin MacDonald proposed a similarly beautiful life. The choice may have been clear, but it wasn’t easy. Collin kept his distance from Maggie ever since her fateful rejection, opting to stay bitter than accept a second place platonic friendship.

This was why she cried more for Collin on the day Gordon died. Maggie faithfully followed Gordon for the majority of their lives. She witnessed the fullness of his life, and felt contented when his eyes shut for a final time. She held intimate knowledge of how loved Gordon was, and she watched him live a good life for it. But Collin? Who knew what really became of him? Maggie could only cry now for what she could never know.

[whibleysims]

Henry and Gina Marion’s wedding party was starting to thin out when Paul MacDonald patted his buddy Jack Parker’s shoulder. “Sorry, man.”

“Don’t be,” Jack shrugged, “look at ‘em.”

“Yer the bigger man.”

“I don’t know. I still showed up didn’t I?”

Paul retracted his hand and said, “I heard Henry’s takin’ her name.”

“Really?”

“Just what I heard. Dad is pretty mad. So, unless you wanted to be a Marion, yer better off anyway.”

“Hm, yeah, can’t imagine being anything but a Parker.”

“So, hey, I guess this means it’s up to you to carry on the big MacDonald legacy, eh?” Jack nudged Paul in the arm with a growing smirk.

“No way, not me. I can’t!”

“Can’t what?” Jack laughed.

“This!” Paul gestured broadly to the happy reception in front of them.

“You don’t do marriage, or women?”

“I don’t do any of it,” Paul answered sincerely.

“So, you’re—?”

“I’m not anything. I’m not interested.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Meanwhile, twins Jane and Dallas MacDonald were talking about leaving soon.

“You go on ahead,” she said with a playful grin as her eyes drifted towards her target.

Dallas caught on quick. “Uhh, I knew you were blonde now but—”

Jane stood up.

“—oh my god, you’re serious?!”

“So what if I am?”

“He’s, like, older* than you?”

She shrugged defiantly. “Not by that much.”

[*Jane isn't wrong here: Jack is the same age as Gina and Henry (and Paul) who would normally still be Young Adults if they didn't speedrun university. However! Jack/Jane's age difference should still merit a reaction even if the numbers are not outrageously offensive.]

“No way. You have no game!”

Their mother’s words echoed in her mind when she told him, “That was the old me.”

“Night, Jack.”

“Yeah, uh—seeyah later, Paul.” He got a little distracted with Jane approaching him.

Through her bravest poker face, Jane said coolly, “Hey again, seat partner. Need a dance partner too?”

“You’re asking me to dance?”

“I saw you and my brother watching the dance floor, so I thought—”

“Oh! You must be Jane!”

Uh oh. “You know me?”

“You dyed your hair so I wasn’t entirely sure who—”

In their embarrassed panic Jane and Jack’s hands brushed together.

But rather than lose momentum, Jane used their touch to press on the gas: “I think we can show ‘em how it’s done, don’t you?”

“Um, well—”

“—that depends, are you easily impressed by bad dance moves?”

She laughed, “Come on.”

“I love you so much, Gina.”

“I love you too, Henry.”

“Less than an hour to go now,” he assured, “then it’s just you and me.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Can’t wait.”

[whibleysims]

The Marion family is pleased to announce the arrival of their newest family member: Rachel Marion!

Motherhood surprised Gina in many ways, but none more so than feeling grateful for the time away from the office. She always figured as soon as the baby arrived that she would run back to her career in politics, but the more time she spent at home with her family the more she felt okay with that. Gina still has her eye on becoming mayor one day, but her focus is with her family for now.

[whibleysims]

Later that same day, Maggie relayed the news of an illegitimate and estranged Marion relative to her daughter and son in law. Gina’s reaction mirrored the horrified shock of her father, while Henry Marion displayed more earnest curiosity than anything else.

Gina would find Gordon hiding in his office, which was once his father Charlie’s office. She squeaked nervously at the door, “Hi, Dad.”

And he mumbled back, “Gine.”

“As someone who also got some pretty bad news today, mind if I join you?”

“When it rains it pours, I suppose. Have a seat.”

As she sat down, Gina revealed bluntly, “I’m pregnant.” Her father waited for her to continue, but she kept her gaze at the floor fearful of what he had to say. After a while of awkward silence, she went on: “Henry’s over the moon of course, but who’s going to vote in a mayor that will immediately go on maternity leave? I have to withdraw my candidacy. I-I failed.”

“Failed, she says!” Gordon laughed. “And here I thought I raised a winner, not a quitter. What, never heard of a working mother before?”

“I have to be realistic, Dad. I can’t possibly compete now; my campaign will lose momentum soon, and by the time I can reasonably catch up Adam Green will already be Whibley’s new favourite mayor.”

“Ah yes, Adam Green with his bastard child. To think our family is no morally better than the Greens sickens me. It’s not right! None of it is.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad.”

“Stop apologizing, Gina; you’re the last person in this family to do anything wrong.”

“Then why does it feel like I have?”

He frowned as he wrestled with conflicting thoughts. “Maybe this is for the best. What with our own familial, erm, developments, perhaps it’s best our name stays out of the spotlight until we can get—organized.”

It was hard to argue with him there, so Gina just nodded along quietly.

[whibleysims]

Gina Marion began a career in politics following a rainy honeymoon in Feverfew with her husband Henry.

Henry knew this was a dream come true for Gina; she had often talked about wanting to do right by her family’s namesake while still earning her own place as one of Whibley’s own pseudo-nobles. He supported her campaign proudly of course, and not just because he recently married into the Marion family; she had good ideas and achievable ambitions for this town that he believed in too. But Gina’s best asset was her unspoiled image as a smart, accomplished, and proficient person, which meant that she would be a mayor aiming to actually get the job done right the first time.

It posed a direct threat to Adam Green’s own mayoral campaign, whose image lately was taking a serious beating after the downfall of his marriage. Gina Marion was a welcome breath of fresh air for most Whibley residents.

Gina talked with her father Gordon about her campaign a lot, and Gord had a lot of opinions on the matter. His renewed familial spirit had him especially invigorated and invested in his daughter’s upcoming mayoral career. Together, they might actually restore the title of Whibley’s mayor back to the rightful Marion family!

This is what worried Henry.

He didn’t want to think about someone else pulling Gina’s strings, much less her own father, but Henry’s backseat albeit supportive position allowed him to see plainly what he worried Gina couldn’t see at all yet: anyone will do anything for power.

[whibleysims]

Kathleen Rose scheduled a mid-morning meeting with Gordon and Maggie Marion to discuss what she had recently discovered about their family.

But despite best intentions, it was not a pleasant sit down for anyone.

The Cora in Gordon came out in full force the second Kathy implied that his father was anything less than faithful. He rose from the table in protest. There was no conceivable universe in which Charles Marion would betray the family he loved so proudly; these journals are a forgery, or Kathy was wrong, or both!

Kathy anticipated this kind of reflexive reaction and did her best to stay in control of her body language and tone of voice. She tried to be as gentle as possible in relaying the very real possibility that Charlie Marion fathered a child with another Feverfewian woman long after the Marions had settled in Whibley.

As Gordon and Kathy argued, Maggie silently looked at the evidence sitting neatly on their dining table. Unlike her husband, she did not immediately dismiss their legitimacy. After all, Charlie was a sailor.

When Gordon stomped away, Maggie tried to apologize for her husband’s regressive outburst. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Kathleen, but truth be told I’m not sure what to say about it.”

“That’s really alright, Mrs. Marion. I’m just sorry I had to be the messenger.”

“But, dear, whatever compelled you to be so discrete and gracious, on behalf of every Marion, we are in your debt!”

“Well, in that case, perhaps when things settle down you might suggest to Gordon that he remove the My Family Tree assignment from the elementary classes.”

“Yes,” she laughed a little, “I can certainly see him agreeing to that now.” Maggie took it as a joke, she had no reason to believe Kathy was serious.

Maggie continued, “Speaking of school, you might be happy to know that Kate’s reading is improving. If only she and that Weseman boy could focus on something other than each other they’d both be reading along fine with the rest of their class.”

“What Weseman boy?”

“Brandon Weseman, Bonnie and Sam’s boy. Wait, you don’t know? Those two are practically attached at the hip! I would’ve thought you’d have met him by now; doesn’t Kate invite her friends over to your house?”

“I wasn’t aware she had any.”

“A whole class full! She’s very social.”

“Oh, I—I guess I didn’t know that.”

“So, about the journals,” Kathy segued awkwardly, “you have my word that these are all the original documents here, I made no copies. Whatever you and Gordon decide to do it will be your own private choice. And if it helps any, since the mother of the child hasn’t reached out by now there’s a reasonable chance your paths never have to cross.” She finished with an unsteady smile.

“Thank you, dear; I understand what you’re trying to say, but rest assured Gordon and I will get to the bottom of this.”

[whibleysims]

Kathleen Rose was in a trance watching cold, autumn rain drip down her office window. Across the foggy street stood a big maple tree who wasn’t the first one to lose all of its leaves on this block. The exposed bare branches made Kathy think of family trees, and what all can be exposed within them.

She had just finished going through the Marion family’s donations when she discovered three journals stuck inside a squished cardboard box. They belonged to Charlie, and as far as Kathy could tell from his sporadically dated entries, the journals covered his youth in Feverfew to some of his final days in Whibley. Across all three books, the entries were consistent in context, writing style, and ink impressions to heavily suggest that Charlie Marion himself wrote what Kathy held snugly in her arms now.

She knew Charlie’s secret child with another woman in Feverfew.

Once she read the other woman’s name she began a feverish record search. Luckily for Kathy, the woman was easy to find because she was part of a large property sale in Feverfew this past spring. A real rags to riches tale for the new owner of the River Seasonne Bathing Spot. She wondered about telling Gordon Marion, Charlie’s son, what she found out, or if Gordon already knew when he donated these materials to Historical Whibley. The historian in her wanted to record, archive, and move on, but strong moral values compelled her to withhold doing anything with the journals for now.

Later that evening, Kathleen was preparing a warm, comforting soup for supper while her daughter did her homework at the kitchen table. Kate asked, “Mom? Can you help me?”

“What’s the question?”

“My Family Tree,” she answered.

“What? Let me see that.”

“See? I know where to put you and me, and Grandpa Will and Grandma Lila, but there’s still a lot of blanks I have to fill out. Like, who do I put in for ‘My Dad’?”

“Allan Murphy,” Kathy answered instinctively. “And you can put down your Aunt Vivian’s name next to mine.”

“Under, ‘My Mom’?”

“No, under ‘Aunts and Uncles.’ Vivian is my sister.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to have a talk with that education minister of ours. I don’t think this kind of assignment is really appropriate.”

“Um, how do I spell Vivian?”

“V-i-v-i-a-n. And Allan is A-l-l-a-n.”

“Um, Mom?”

“Yes, Catherine?”

“Who is Aunt Vivian?” She wanted to ask more about Allan too, but Kathy was already growing increasingly annoyed with her questions, so Kate figured it was safer trying one at a time.

It wasn’t like Kathy didn’t see this coming, but it was certainly curious timing that she would discover Marion family secrets on the same day her daughter would start poking around their own tree.

“I’ve told you, Vivian is my sister.”

“How come I don’t know her?”

“Because she lives far away, so we don’t see each other very often.”

“Where does she live?”

“In Feverfew, far away.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Dammit, Kate—Catherine. How many times do I have to repeat myself? Your Aunt Vivian lives far away. Now, just, put your homework away for now and eat your dinner while it’s still hot.”

“O-okay. Sorry, Mom.”

Okay, so, maybe that wasn’t her best parenting moment. But as long as her daughter remained here in her care, Kathy figured she had time to fix these kinds of little blemishes later.