[January 2004  Kent, England]

DINO

Much as I love the little rugrat, I wished someone else could have gone and collected Andy from the old man that night.  Leaving Heather after what we'd just shared was a mistake.  Instead of just holding each other and allowing our physical intimacy to slip into emotional intimacy, which would have allowed us to open up to each other in a way we hadn't had in a long time, it only made things more awkward.

By the time I returned, she'd showered and changed but instead of being close and cuddly with me, like she would have been if we'd been allowed to let the rest of our intimacy play out naturally, cutting it short created a distance between us.  She was shy.  Blushed when she saw me, no doubt embarrassed over the direction our lovemaking had gone in those last final moments.  Had we been able to discuss it after, I think it would have been fine... but now she had her walls back up, firmly in place.  I did too, to tell the truth. 

It was just another mistake in a long line of mistakes for us.  I should have made her talk to me after we put Andy to bed.  Instead, I tarried in the bathroom under the guise of a shower and she was nearly asleep by the time I emerged.  I know it would have been better for us to talk, but frankly, with the distance between us now, I was having a hard time dealing with the fact I'd enjoyed putting my hands on her neck that way... to say nothing of how uncomfortable the thought of discussing it with her made me. 

It wasn't that we were upset with each other.  We just needed to talk and we didn't.  Some of the intimacy lingered, of course.  She did cuddle up to my side and slip her hand down my belly and under my skivvies to rest her fingertips in the thick scruff of hair around my dick... and I did put my arm around her and tuck her head under my chin.... but neither of us said so much as a single word.

She drifted straight off.  I found sleep harder to come by.  My body was tired but my mind wouldn't turn off.  I just lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, listening to her breathe and just thinking about a hundred things.  That weird niggling feeling in my chest.  That shit with Jack over the contract.  My concerns about his intended.  The ongoing shit with Lachlan.  The Pull.  Our infertility issues.  Heather's past and mine..... what it all meant for where we were now. 

You know, just in general the shit that keeps a guy like me up at night....

I wish it hadn't.  Heather shifted against me, restless, caught in some dream's grasp.  She made this little sound in her throat and her fingers fluttered against me.  It made me smile.  I hushed her, with a soft 'shhhh' and pet her hair.  This time, the noise she made in her throat was different.  Sexier.... or at least it was until she sighed "Lach...." and fucking smiled in her sleep. 

Christ.  She's fucking dreaming of him now?  I know she has no control over that- but it still pissed me off.  I pulled away abruptly and turned over, knowing when I jerked my shoulder out from under her cheek it would disturb her.  Not enough to wake her- but enough to end that goddamn dream.  It worked.  She made this soft little huff and turned over, curling up on her side with her back to me.  Fine with me.  I put my back to her too and thumped my pillow a few times for good measure. 

It was a long time before sleep came.  And I dreamed of them when it did.  Dreamed of Curry fucking my wife.  It wasn't one of those softy hazy dreams either.  Oh, no.  It was vivid.  Graphic.  I could see it.  Hear it.  Fucking smell it.  I felt helpless.  They didn't even notice me standing there because they were so wrapped up in each other; which was worse than if they'd just been doing it to shine me on.  They were so lost in each other that the outside world, me included, had ceased to exist for them.

To say I woke up in a fucking pissy mood would have been putting it mildly.  Heather was even more blushy than she'd been last night... which irritated me further because I knew it had to have stemmed from what she remembered of her dream.  God, we used to lie in bed and laugh over our erotic dreams.  I'd chuckle and tell her I dreamed of swimming naked in a lake of Cheese Whiz with Lara Croft or she'd giggle and tell me she dreamed she fucked Spock and then laugh even harder when I'd ask if his come was a green as his blood. 

Neither of us said one word about it that morning.  In fact, aside from the usual morning parental crap- 'have you seen Andy's XXX....?' or 'can you bathe/feed/dress him while I XXX.... ?" I think we might have said all of two words to each other. 

I was a dick.  I admit it.  And I really don't know why I had such an intense reaction to something that wasn't her fault.  It was totally out of character for me.  But I sure as hell did.... and she reacted to my mood.  Andy was pissy - and naughty - which didn't exactly help the stress level that morning.  He got into my shaving cream and squirted some on the mirror.  Heather was pissed because I laughed when I found out he'd filled up her make-up bag with it as well.... although it wasn't so fucking funny when I discovered he'd also filled one of my shoes with the stuff.  Little dirtbag. 

He got in trouble, naturally, and came clean about a few other things while we were having a man-to-man chat about respecting other people's belongings.  He copped to taking Heather's perfume bottle and burying it outside.  Apparently, when we left him playing with Colin and Alex's kids yesterday while we took a walk, they'd decided to play pirate and had buried 'treasure' in the woods- only they forgot where they put it.  It was hard to get mad at him.  I mean- it was really kind of sweet that he thought of the smell of his mom as a 'treasure'.  Andy and I still went every Christmas to pick out perfume for her.... and he was all but in tears when he admitted he hadn't brought it back.  Guess I lucked out there, though.  Alex's boy had buried his watch, and May, Colin's girl, had buried his motorcycle keys.  Heh.  Poor bastards.     

In any case, our morning was shot to hell.  And to tell the truth, deep down it bugged me that for the first time in more than a year, Heather emerged from the bathroom smelling of lavender instead of sandalwood.  Scent is a very powerful trigger for a man- and all I could think of was how it was the way she'd smelled when I'd first met her.  It was also how my old Heather had smelled at sixteen and seventeen and eighteen.  Still, what really pissed me off was knowing she'd worn that scent when she fucked Curry.  Christ.  The last thing he needed was another jog down memory lane.

The wedding was absolutely miserable.  The bride was stunning, I have to admit, but still- the weird tension between everyone seemed to steal her thunder.  At least in my opinion, but then again, reading body language and noticing the little details is second nature to me.  Every time his wife was distracted, O'Brien made a sad show of not being able to keep his eyes off Mrs. White.  In turn, White was busy eyeing up Darcy like a dog with a bone.  Real class act, pal.  Still, it was getting under Curry's skin, which I admit to taking an obscene amount of enjoyment in observing. 

Terry was better about concealing it, but I noticed him watching Uma a time or two.  Even the stoic old General wasn't immune.  I caught him appreciating the blond Amazon on Hando's arm a time or two.  And there was something seriously fucked up with Cort, Isobel and Jack.  There was enough bad juju there to send up a few hundred red flags. 

More fucking hypocrisy in a collar.  Is it any wonder I'm lapsed?  To be fair, Cort's got to deal with the Pull crap same as the rest of us.... but for fuck's sake, pining over someone else's bride is bad enough when you're not officiating.

Even with all that going on, it wasn't what had the majority of my attention.  After my little dream last night, can you really blame me?  And actually, what I saw between Curry and my wife was more damning than all the furtive glances I'd observed today.  They were going out of their way NOT to notice each other.  Fucking perfect.  Nothing more subtle than the neon elephant in the room that everyone pretends isn't there. 

My mood got worse as the evening progressed, no doubt helped along by the open bar, the Pull clearly at work in a number of places, and by that fucking weird vibe that just wouldn't let up.  That evening, Heather and I wound up at one of the tables, shooting the shit with Annie, and with Terry, who'd just sauntered back from a powwow with what looked to be one very pissed off Bud White. 

Terry sat down and pulled Ann down on his knee, flirting with her and giving me some shit about the scotch I was drinking.  Nice try, pal... but I know his tells.  He was having a hard time leaving his eyebrow alone. 

Heather giggled and knocked his hand away.  She knows his tells too.  And for some reason, seeing her playing with someone else when things between us were so strained just rubbed me the wrong way.  She gave White a look.  "Wooo..... he looks mad!  What was that all about, Terry?"  All of us turned to look at the old man.

He shrugged.  "Little bit of bother in the men's room, love."  Yeah, right.  That was the report after he'd sanitized it for public consumption.  Wonder what I'd hear about it from him later on.  "Nothing to worry about..."  I'll bet.  Curry had looked pissed as hell and White had a cut lip.  Not hard to work that one out, now is it?  I knew it was petty, but I couldn't help enjoying the fact Curry's night had obviously just gone right down the crapper.  Terry only grinned and shook his head.  "Just too much booze and testosterone.....  You know how it is.... a wedding's just not complete unless there's a scuffle in the loo."

"Whatsa matter?  White got a kid sister we don't know about?"  I shouldn't have said it.  Not really sure why I did.  Well, OK... that's a lie.  I knew why.  And I also knew the reason that they'd gone after each other... but I couldn't resist getting in a dig at Curry and his taste for younger women.  Heather was only seventeen when he fucked her.  Cheap shot, I know... but I wasn't above taking it.  The old man just gave me that look he does.  Sour lemons.  Heather blushed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.  Her back was stiff with anger.  Well, welcome to my world, honey.  I took another slug of malt and gave Lily a pointed glance.  Curry had been carrying her around earlier.  "And I'd watch some of these kids in a few years time...."

It was the kind of talking shit men do about other men... in the same vein as me razzing Terry about purchasing some clit.  Though, to be fair, I'd said that with affection not rancor.  And it was a fucking huge mistake to say it in front of Heather.  I knew it.  And I did it anyway.  Maybe I just wanted to bring Curry down in front of her.  Maybe it was the dream I had about them last night.  Hell, maybe it was just seeing his kids- proof of his virility when my own was in question.  It just all pushed my buttons.

Heather's face went white.  I thought she'd turn some ball-busting look on me.  Or maybe snark back at me that as a young man, I'd gone after younger women myself.  Nothing like a double standard to really piss off a woman, you know?  But she didn't.  She just got up and walked away.  Didn't look at me.  Didn't talk to me.  Didn't even acknowledge I existed. 

Shit. 

I felt pretty fucking small.  I didn't look at Terry.  I knew what I'd see there.  Heather's like a little sister to him and in insulting Curry, I'd insulted her too.  I just couldn't seem to help myself.  My rational mind knew I was full of shit.  Even discounting the Pull, I knew it was common in the 40's for men to take up with younger women.  Nana O'Leary was only eighteen when my grandfather married her.  Her mother had been sixteen.  Still, none of that negated the fact I'd known my Heather at seventeen and had managed to keep my hands off her.  Unlike someone else I know.... 

Absolutely irrational, incandescent rage burned in my chest towards Curry.  Partly for what he did to her... but mostly because it made me question my relationship with Heather.  If she hadn't have had to fly back to take care of her mom, what would have happened between them?  Was she supposed to be with him instead of me? 

I'd never subscribed to the theory that there is only one person out there for each of us; one true soul mate.  If that's the case, then I'd missed my chance when Gen died.  I think if you're really lucky, you can find it again.  I had to believe that because I had found it again with Heather.  But if that was true, I had to allow if I'd found it with two people, she might have as well.  And I hated that this thing with Curry made me question what I had with her.  Was it the real McCoy or was it just Andy who held us together? 

He'd been what held us together in the beginning.  The glue.  What if he became the grit as well?  Like last night when our responsibility to him came at the detriment of our relationship.  What would we do then?  What would that mean for Andy? 

Tonight he was going to a sleepover.  We all take turns at these little gatherings.  The kids love spending the night together.  This time it was Ross and his wife, Christy, who were in charge of the sleepover.  Their kids would be there... plus Andy, Hando's two, Colin's girls.... White wouldn't let his kids come and Lily was too little.  Somehow, I doubted Curry would be in the mood for fun and games tonight.... but still, even with reduced numbers, Alex and Christy were brave souls for taking on that pack of naughtiness. 

Heather and I had had them all the time before last and they'd worn us flat out- but we'd enjoyed every minute of it.  Eager to add to our own family, it had been like getting to test-drive what a full house of kids felt like.  God, how she'd looked to me then, her eyes sparkling over a table sporting a full compliment of kids.  And what peace I felt inside at seeing them all there. 

How the fuck did we get here?  Ready to tear into each other, ready to think the worst of each other?  I said a goodnight to Andy, who was much more interested in playing secret agent with the other kids than in telling his old man goodnight.  He hugged me back but wiped at his cheek where I'd given him a goodnight kiss with this exasperated, "Daaad!!"  I missed those days when he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to us.  He still did when we were alone, but never in front of the other kids.  He was growing up so fast. 

I should have gone outside for a smoke before I went upstairs.  Maybe taken some time to cool down a little.  I'd put on a good face with Andy, but by the time I'd gotten back to our room, I was mad all over again.  Bad, bad idea to go into negotiations in that state of mind.  I tried to talk to her.  She still wouldn't look at me and she didn't want to talk to me.  It just pissed me off more.  Like she was choosing him over me.  Stupid, I know, but that's how I felt.

She said one thing and one thing only.  "Go away.  I don't want to talk to you now because I know I'll say something I'll regret."  Now Heather and I?  We're not the Cleavers.  We go round about a fair number of things.  She has a temper and I do too... but I'd always given her space when she asked for it like that.  If she could be straight up with me that she couldn't bring anything to the table then the least I could do was back off until she was ready to talk.  Tonight was the first time I didn't listen to her.  I wanted to talk now.   

So, I pushed.  Hard.  And we had an absolutely flaming argument.  I'd never seen her so angry.  Furious that I'd even hinted that Lachlan might ever harm a child.  I knew he wouldn't... but I fucking couldn't stand her defending him to me.  It made me wild.  So I fought back.  I argue better than she does because she gets too emotional and it pisses her off when I deconstruct her comments logically. 

I pushed her buttons.  She pushed mine.  The pressure built and built until we both exploded.  

"How dare you say that?!"  Her chest was heaving.  "What business is it of yours, anyway?  So I was seventeen?  So what?!  Like you hadn't banged half the world by then!"

"I don't care!  He shouldn't have fucked-"  The minute I said it, I knew it was a mistake.  Her eyes narrowed and I knew what she said next was going to be bad.  I just didn't imagine how bad. 

"You know it wasn't just fucking!  I know you know- so just cut the crap."

There was this huge uncomfortable silence.  

That was the first time either of us had mentioned what I'd read in her journal about that night.  The one I'd lied about reading.  That lie had just been sitting there collecting dust until now.  That's one of the things I both hate and admire about her.  She argues like crap- but she can pull some shit out of nowhere and just ream me with it.  Total broadside when I least expected it.

It made me angry.  Getting called on lying made me angry, too.  So did the fact that I had known for years that he wasn't just a casual fuck to her.  It made me angry... and scared.  And cornering someone like me is dangerous.  "Yeah?  If he's so fucking perfect then why didn't you ever go back after him, huh?  Why didn't you go looking for him to be his wife and have his goddamn babies?!  Why didn't you ever-" 

White implosion.  "I did!"  She whirled around.  "That what you wanted to hear, hotshot?  Fine!  I did, OK?!  Twice if you want brutal honesty, Dean.  I went once when I was nineteen and again at twenty-one.  I did go looking for him... and the only reason I ever came back was because I couldn't find him."

She couldn't have hurt me more if she'd sunk a knife in my chest.  I suppose that's what she meant by warning me if I continued to press, she'd say something she'd regret.  Her eyes were wide and her hand was covering her mouth, aware she'd gone as far over the line with me as I had with her.  I clawed at my tie and ripped it away.  I couldn't fucking breathe.  The last time I hurt this bad was when Gen died.  I needed to get out of here.  Now.  Before I did or said something impossible to fix. 

I grabbed my coat and jerked it on.  Rough, angry motions.  Grabbed the keys to the rental and then pulled our airline tickets out of the pocket and tossed hers and Andy's on the bed.  I might be an asshole but I wouldn't strand them in England.  Our flight left late tomorrow evening and I wasn't sure if I'd be back by then.  I wasn't sure if I'd want to.   

Every last bit of color drained from her face as she saw me throw down the tickets.  Now she looked scared not mad.  I didn't care.  I hurt too much to give two shits about anyone else in that moment.  I didn't say one word to her.  Just grabbed my wallet, threw some money down on the bed next to the tickets and left without ever looking back.

I lit out of there like every demon of hell was on my tail.  A black car swallowed up by the black night.  It was bitter outside, cold and damp.  I just wanted to lose myself in it.  I'd lived in London for years working at Luthan.... and I knew just where to go to drown all my sorrows.  I was more in the mood to hit a man than to fuck a woman.... but I knew whatever I did tonight, I was going to need alcohol.  And lots of it.

LACHLAN

The wedding had been over for hours now, but it was no use.  Sleep wouldn't come.  I was too upset over my wife's infidelities.  Too hurt over her lies.  Too angry at that cunt White.  What a fucking pathetic, immoral excuse for a man.  He disgusted me.  She did too.  My wife was a lying little whore and he was a controlling, manipulative arsehole who'd cheated repeatedly on his own spouse.  Birds of a feather, hey?  Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to be amused. 

What the fuck did she see in him?  Why would any woman want someone so sleazy?  Christ.  Her feelings for a man like that had the power to make her cheat on me?!  Un-bloody-believable.  It was sickening.  What the fuck is wrong with her that she'd find that attractive?  I just couldn't stop thinking about it.  How she'd played me out.  Writing to him.  Calling him.  Telling him fucking God knows what.  No doubt getting him off as well.... and then coming to me -  to our boys - and pretending to be this faithful, loving wife and mother?  It completely shattered every last shred of my trust and faith in her.  In us.  And because of her selfishness, what we had between us- if there was even anything worthwhile left- would never, ever be the same again.

And all for what?  For what?!  Bud fucking White?  Certainly not for the love of a good man, I can bloody tell you that much.  And God, my boys... my sweet little babies.  The thought of her touching them disgusted me.  Part of me just wanted to take them away.  To get in the wind and disappear forever.  Somewhere she'd never find us.  Let her rot in our fucking mansion, all alone... banging White to her little heart's content... or at least until he decides to start whoring around again.  If he ever stops.  Why don't women ever see that?  If he can't be faithful to his own bloody wife- what the fuck kind of chance has she got?   

I took another slug from my flask.  Years.  It had been going on for years, she said.  Our whole fucking marriage was a joke.  A sham.  Built on nothing but a pack of lies.  The one person I should have been safe with had been systematically lying to me for years.  It didn't just shake me.  It utterly destroyed the foundation we'd built our lives on.  It destroyed me.  I hurt so much inside I was numb with it.  Even leaving Lil hadn't hurt this bad.  At least that hadn't involved any innocent children.  I felt like I'd failed them, somehow failed to protect my precious boys from the harsh, ugly realities of life.  Christ, their own fucking Mum.  I wanted to strike her for what she'd done to them.  To me.  To our family.     

I turned the flask over in my hands.  My touchstone.  How I wished I still had that little scrap of paper tonight to worry between my fingers.  I touched the design on the pewter bottle instead, tracing the pattern.  Knotwork.  So many intricate tangles... and yet, the line remained unbroken.  It seemed ironic.  And God, how I longed for the peace my old memories of that night used to bring.  The ones I had now were too fresh, too bright to bring that familiar comfort.

It was so much harder now that my mystery girl had a face and a name.  I knew where I could find the peace I so desperately needed tonight.  It was somewhere in a different room, no doubt curled up around her husband and her little boy.  It made me feel sad.  And resigned.  Like I could look down at the cards I held and know that I might have once had a good hand, but I'd somehow made poor choices in the playing of them.  Bit like that game, Hearts.  Only all the good tricks had passed me by.  I'd lost all my hearts... and here I sat at the end of the game, holding the worthless queen while someone else took home the prize.      

I knew I couldn't go to her.  I would never do that.  But I also couldn't stay in this room a second longer.  I was out the door in moments, just wandered the halls of that old estate.  It felt lonely, like me.  Some old relic from out of time.  I wound up at the atrium door a little while later.  I might not be able to have the peace I knew I could find in Heather, but my memories of her were strong in this place.  It would have to be enough.  Memories were all I would ever have.

I slipped inside the dark room and closed the door after myself, intent on finding one of those hidden chairs and just throwing myself into it.  Having a fag.  A drink.  A long, hard think about the direction of my life.  A sudden movement stirred the air, brining to me the scent of flowers... and of lavender.  Heather appeared from the shadows.  For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.... but she was real enough.

She took one look at my face and opened her arms to me, but I was already moving to embrace her.  I pressed my face into her throat, unashamed to show her how terribly I was hurting.  I knew she could feel my tears trickle wetly down her neck, but just the feel of her arms around me blew apart the shattered dam holding back my pain. 

Like she did that night so long ago, she just held me.  Rocked me.  Pet my hair and crooned to me, soft soothing sounds... not even real words.  I rocked her too.  There was so much pain in both of us... and yet, I think we were too overwhelmed by it in that moment to even begin to articulate it to someone else.       

We wound up on a chaise, hidden in the corner behind a verdant fall of lush foliage.  I don't know how long we lay like that, legs tangled together, my head resting on her breast while we just held each other.  Her tiny hand stroked my back softly.  I thought I'd never felt anything as good in my life.  Safe.   

I had an erection, but though the moment was shockingly intimate, it was in no way sexual.  I didn't kiss her and neither of us touched each other in a way that could be considered prurient.  I didn't need it to experience intimacy with her.  It was like time had rolled back.  We were again those two lost people who so desperately needed to find an anchor, to find peace..... and somehow, miraculously, we'd managed to find that together. 

She encouraged me to talk and I did.  At first, just a whisper given right to her heart... and then more words.  Hurt and pain and anger.  Fear.  Desperation.  Humiliation.  Disgust.  Rage and despair.  It poured out of me.  She just let me talk, as she had that night so long ago.  She was the one person I could share this with without it making me feel like less of a man.  She already knew my darkest secrets, as I knew hers.  There was no need to hide anything. 

I knew she would need to talk too, but once I felt her arms around me, I simply couldn't hold back the flood.  My need was too great.  She wept for my pain.  This little trickle of tears that seeped from the corners of her lashes and disappeared into the dark fall of her hair.  My tears stung my tender face.  It throbbed where White had hit me earlier, bruising my cheek and splitting the skin above my eye. 

It felt worse now.  The adrenaline had gone and laying here with Heather in the wake of such an emotional outpouring.... it reminded me of when one of my boys had a crying jag that left them all weak and sweaty.  That's how I felt now.  I felt strong too, though.  Like a man with her because she didn't withhold anything from me.  Her unshakable faith in me helped restore my faith in myself, and I know she felt the same.

That had always been the most precious thing we'd given to each other.  The knowledge that another person believed you strong enough to carry their burden helped us realize our own strength.  I leaned on her and she leaned on me too.  It was an act that sent a very clear message.  I trust you to hold me up.  I see your pain but know it doesn't make you weak.  It doesn't make you less in my eyes.  What a precious, precious gift to receive from someone.

When I finished talking, Heather just shook her head.  "I'm so sorry, Lach...."  She stroked my hair back from my sweaty face with a gentle touch.  "I just can't believe it....."

"Bloody tell me about it."

"Bud White?"  She made a face.  

"What?  You don't like him either?"  I snorted.  

She took a deep breath.  "Well... Terry and D- Dean..." she tripped over his name.  "They say he's first rate security, first rate muscle too....." 

I winced at that and touched my face.  "Like I don't fucking know...."

She laughed but it wasn't a happy sound.  "I've heard the rumors, of course...."

"You mean that he's an cheating arsehole?"  I couldn't keep the venom from my voice.

"Yeah.  You know how fast gossip travels in this family."  Too right.  To say nothing of the fact Heather was married to the man who ran the background checks and helped Terry with the security for us all.  I could only imagine the stories she'd heard.  She shrugged.  "I just.... I dunno, Lach.... he makes me uncomfortable.  I don't like the way he looks at me."

"Looks at you?"  I sat up on one elbow and met her eyes.

"Yeah... you know...."  She blushed and waved a hand at the soft curve of her breasts.  "Like he's undressing me with his eyes or something."  Or something. 

I can understand why he'd look.  She was a beautiful girl... but it still made me angry.  "Bloody letch."  It seemed the perfect time for a drink.  We traded the flask back and forth a few times.  I wanted to put a little color back in her cheeks.  I threw myself down and scooted up against the back of the chaise, pulling her against my chest as I stared up at the ceiling and huffed.  "I just can't understand it, love.  Bud White?"  I made a sound of disgust.  "Worse still.... she loves him... but not enough to leave me.  And she loves me... but not enough to stay faithful.  Christ, what the fuck kind woman does that?!"

She was quiet for a moment.  I thought she wasn't going to answer... and then she did.  So softly it was just a whisper.  "Lil."

I blew, shoving her back off me some.  "So, now I'm no better than Bud White?  Jesus, girl!"

"No!  I didn't say that!"  She touched my face tenderly- and I allowed it.  Grudgingly.  "I'd never say that.  You're nothing like he is."

"Well, Darcy isn't anything like my Lil!  Don't you ever say that!"  I blustered but fell back against the chaise, drinking down another slug.  Deep down, I knew there was a kernel of truth somewhere in her words... even if the situation was completely different.  Lil hadn't been going between Frank and me for years, lying to us both.  And if she'd have let me, I sure as hell would have taken her home, married her and never touched another woman as long as I lived.  And of course, I hadn't fucking been married, ready to dump my kids.  Jesus.  What kind of a man does that?   

I lit a fag and inhaled aggressively, blowing out hard as I worked it though.  She settled back against me but said nothing.  Reckon she made her point.  So it was possible to love more than one person.  Lil had.  I most certainly had.  Heather had.  Reckon Darcy had as well.  What rankled was that it was a man as lacking in moral fiber as Bud White.  Jesus.  Being thrown over for a man like him just pricked my pride.   

I sighed heavily.  "I don't want to talk about it anymore."  She shifted against me, softly tracing her fingers over my chest. 

"OK."

I ground out my fag in one of the planters and took her hand in mine, still staring up at the ceiling.  "I want to talk about why you're hiding in here tonight, love."

She sniffed.  "We had a fight, Dean and me... I mean.  He- he left."

"A fight about what?"  I was sure I knew but I let her tell me anyway.

"You." 

"I'm sorry.... I didn't mean to-"

"It wasn't just you, Lach.  It's been building for a long time.... it's complicated."  Her voice broke.

I cuddled her close.  "You want to tell me?"

She nodded against my chest but it was a long time before she spoke.  "We can't get pregnant."  She made this soft little sound that just tore at my heart.  "I just want to make a family with him... have a baby... be a mother..."  I had the sudden image of her round with my child and shook it away, feeling a strange tightness in my chest as I did. 

"What about Andy?  You're his Mum."

"He's Dean's son," she said sadly.  "A child of my heart but not my body."  

I rocked her.  God, how lucky was I that we'd had no problems there?  And how fucking sad that their mother would throw them away for a man like Bud White, I thought darkly.  "Shhh.... sometimes it just takes time."

"It's been more than a year." 

You know, sometimes there just isn't anything you can say to make something better for someone else.  I gave her the flask and let her have the last swallow.  I think she needed it more than I did in that moment.  "So... this fight you had?"

"Was about you... but mostly fueled by our despair and frustration over failing at something that everyone else in this Family seems to have no problem with.  These Family gatherings are so hard for us.... All the kids...."  Her voice was flat.  She sounded beaten.  It just broke my heart. 

Still, this little voice inside me wouldn't be silent.  At least her problem wasn't that she wasn't enough for him.  Their problem was they wanted to make a child to celebrate their love and couldn't.... meanwhile, my life was repeating itself.  I still couldn't have the one love to whom I was everything.   

But really, what could I say to her?  I had two beautiful boys and would have had more if Darcy had been willing.  I loved children.  Wanted a house full of them.

These big fat tears slipped from under her lashes and I felt her sob against my chest.  "And I said something awful tonight to him, Lach.  Really, really awful."

"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think, love."

She cried harder.  "Oh yes it was.  He threw my night with you back in my face and it made me mad.  I told him that the only reason he ever found me was because I couldn't find you."

Couldn't find me?  Sweet Christ.  I swallowed hard.  "You went back?"  Un-bloody-believable.  

She nodded.  "Twice...  on-"

"Anzac Day," we finished together.  I looked at her.  "Oh, sweetheart..."  God, I sure had buggered up the hand I'd been given to play in this life.  "I did too..."  I'd gone back as well. 

"What?"

"I'd gone to America...but I came back.  A year to the day.  Felt like a bloody idiot... but I went back to our pub... waited for.... I dunno, waited for you, I reckon."  I felt sheepish admitting it, but it was the truth.

"A year?"  She smiled sadly.  "Oh, Lach... I came back the year after that.... I couldn't the first year... the funeral..." 

I just shook my head.  Fate and chance sure hadn't done us any favors, had they?  I rested my forehead against hers.  "You ever wish you could just rewind your life?"  I bloody did. 

She smiled.  "No.  But I often wonder how it would have turned out if I'd made different choices."   

"You know how," I said softly.  

Her fingers touched my heart and mine touched hers.  What else was there to say?  Both of us had gone on to make new lives for ourselves.  To fall in love.  And yet, we could have had that with each other... if only things had been different.  It seemed so sad to me that all we'd ever have to acknowledge that were these few stolen hours.

I just held her.  Played with her fingers absently.  Breathed in her scent.  Marveled in the changes the years had brought to her face.  Talked to her about everything.  Sat with her in silence, too.  Just memorized the feel of her against me.  Imprinted her on my memory for all time.  We didn't make love.  We didn't even kiss.  I wanted to, but I would never hurt her like that.  She is too precious to me.  I would never risk wrecking the life she'd made for herself.  We'd had our chance and it had passed us by.  I couldn't give her everything so I would take nothing. 

I wouldn't have been satisfied with half measures, anyway.  I knew how it felt to possess her fully.  I had tasted passion in her arms.  Felt her taste it in mine.  I wanted no illicit grabs at dirty, half realized passion to tarnish my golden memories.  I would take only the peace I'd always found in her and hoped she took the same from me.  I cherished every moment, every breath.  Every tear.  Every laugh.  And when we finally slept, I knew I'd found in her what I needed to move on, to move forward with grace.         

When I woke, it was dark and I was alone.  I was disoriented for a moment.  My face hurt.  My heart did too.  I sat up and realized she'd tucked another slip of paper into my hand.  I read it and smiled, tracing the letters with my fingertip.  Three little words, just like last time.  Only this time, the message was different. 

I stood and tucked the small scrap of paper into my wallet, knowing that whatever happened, I'd keep those words close to my heart for ever and always.