Author’s note: This story fits into the timeline of The Long Way Home in parallel to the Mart-centric story 20, Fascination (which is about two and a half years before the most recent story in the timeline). It occurs just after the Thanksgiving Open House scene, where Mart feels like everyone he’s ever met wants to give him a hard time. but it’s not important to be familiar with it.
“I’m home,” Regan called softly, as he stepped into the cottage he shared with his family and hung up his coat.
His wife looked up from her seat by the window and smiled. “How was the open house?”
“Fine.” He leaned over to brush a hand across the hair of their three-and-a-half-year-old son, who slept in her lap. “How’s Philip?”
“Not as hot. I think the worst is over.”
“I thought we agreed he should stay in his bed?”
Her shoulder rolled in something between a shrug and a stretch. “He kept waking up and that kept waking Gianna. I read to him here until he went to sleep and then it was too hard to move him, he’s getting so heavy.”
Bill leaned down and picked up the boy, cradling him in his arms and carrying him off to his bed. He glanced back to see Isabella standing and stretching both arms above her head. Philip barely stirred as he laid the child down. He stepped back and watched a moment, but Philip remained asleep. Then, taking a step back, he looked into the next bedroom. Six-year-old Gianna frowned in her sleep and shifted restlessly. He sighed and returned to the living room.
“Still asleep?” Isabella asked, sounding hopeful.
She had returned to her armchair, which stood by the window, its curtain partly open so she could see outside. Raindrops pattered gently against the glass, blurring the greens of the evergreens at the edge of the clearing and the reds, oranges and yellows of the maple tree just outside. Its crown, he knew, had been bare for weeks, but the lower branches, sheltered by the house, still held onto their leaves.
“Yes. But Gianna’s stirring.” He made an apologetic gesture. “Not exactly how I pictured Thanksgiving.”
His wife smiled and patted the arm of her chair. Bill eased himself onto it, gently leaning against her. His fingers brushed across her thigh, seeking the hand which rested there.
“They’ll both be better in a few days. And I’ll be thankful for that,” she told him, smiling.
“You’re already exhausted. And when they’re better, you have to go back to work.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s all taken care of. The house is all closed up. The Wheelers won’t be back for weeks. Honey and Dan are staying with the Fraynes. Marge is visiting her brother and is going to base her operations in the City until the Wheelers return. And the rest of the staff have time off with pay. All Celia and I need to do is a little light cleaning and airing the rooms. It will be fine.”
He grunted, but did not otherwise answer.
“It will be fine,” she repeated. “I don’t want to see them sick, either, and in a way the timing is terrible, because they were looking forward to the party and they’ve missed it, but in another way it’s better than I can hope for, because it’s not going to affect the Wheelers very much at all.”
Bill made another grumbling sound.
“And I’m not going to pretend that it doesn’t take a weight off my mind that we’re not inconveniencing them.” She reached over and twitched the curtain closed, then snuggled in again. “Or that I’m not relieved that I don’t have to make lots of beds and do lots of heavy cleaning.”
His brow creased. “Am I doing the right thing staying here? If I had a better-paying job, you wouldn’t have to–”
“Stop.” She put her finger on his lips. “You love this job. You love those horses. And I chose to live this way.”
He closed his eyes and kissed the finger. Her hand threaded into his hair and pulled him down to kiss her lips. Time stood still.
Seconds or hours later, a thin wail of “Mama!” drew them out of the moment. Isabella groaned quietly and answered, “Coming!”
“This is why we don’t have more children,” Bill grumbled, shifting out of her way.
She shook her head. “No, William. Great-aunt Francesca’s lessons on family planning, a cycle you can set your watch by and a good measure of self-control are the reasons we don’t have more children.”
He pulled her close and kissed her once more.
“Mama!” Gianna repeated, sounding more awake, but also rather exasperated.
“Let me go, before she wakes her brother.”
He did so, reluctantly, and she hurried to appease the sick little girl. While he waited, Bill brushed the curtain aside again. The rain had eased for the moment, but the sky overhead promised more. A dark-clad figure flashed in and out of view. Letting the curtain drop back into place, Bill hurried to the front door to let the visitor in. He opened the door just as his nephew raised his fist to knock.
“Oh, good,” Dan greeted. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”
Bill opened the door wide and ushered him inside. “Gianna’s just woken up, but Philip’s fast asleep.”
Dan adjusted the package he carried and entered the cottage. He headed straight to the kitchen and his uncle trailed along behind.
“Leftovers from Mrs. Belden,” Dan explained, as he stashed some of them in the refrigerator. “And she told me to tell you that if you need anything else you’d better call her.”
“Thanks,” he answered, making no commitment.
“If you can’t bring yourself to call the Beldens, call me,” Dan added. “I’ll be at Jim and Trixie’s for the weekend.”
Bill nodded, but still made no commitment. Dan shook his head in exasperation, but dropped the subject. He peeked into one of the containers which remained on the kitchen table.
“Do you think Gianna could be tempted by a cookie?”
“She’s in bed. She’d get crumbs everywhere.”
Dan rolled his eyes and pulled a small plate out of the cabinet, then dropped one of the cookies onto it. He carried it to the bedroom and reached around the corner to tap on the door.
“Room service!” he called, in a low voice. “Did anyone order a cookie from room service?”
“Ooh! Me! I’d like a cookie,” Gianna answered him, as Dan stepped into the room.
The children’s bedrooms being tiny, Isabella squeezed past him and out into the hall. She joined her husband in the kitchen, where he still stood, frowning at the containers.
“I thought as much,” she commented, opening each one to see what was inside and then checking the ones in the refrigerator. “This is wonderful. There’s enough for a couple of meals here, if I add a thing or two. And I suppose she sent an offer of help, as well.”
“Well, yes,” he grudgingly admitted.
“And Dan offered to help, too, didn’t he?”
He nodded once.
“Good. Because I’ll need a break sometime.” She laid her hands on his chest and looked up at him. “I don’t suppose it’s a good idea to pick up where we left off.”
He chuckled. “Not here. But we could take up Dan’s offer right now and go and have a rest.”
“Tempting, but no.” She laughed softly, then turned thoughtful. “You know, I’m thankful for him as well – and for the extended family that you and he have built.”
“So am I,” he answered, kissing her forehead. “And I’m thankful for the family we’re building together.”
The End
Author’s notes: Thank you to Mary N./Dianafan for editing and for encouraging me. I very much appreciate your help, Mary!
This story was written for CWC#28: 20 Picture Prompts for 20 Years of Jix in 2020. It is based on picture number 5, part of which I have used in my header graphic. Thank you to my fellow admins for issuing the challenge and especially to Mary N. for choosing the images and setting up the beautiful page.
I am very much enjoying these little trips into the past of The Long Way Home. I feel like I left out lots of interesting bits the first time through and that they might be more fun than the things I had planned for its future (which is possibly why I have been dragging my heels over that!). It felt fitting to help celebrate 20 years of my home on the web by revisiting story 20 from my original universe. I would never have even had a universe, let alone several, had it not been for Jix. I am grateful to all those, past and present, who have made it the safe place that I have enjoyed for so long.
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