A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!
It's my heart's desire to own Anna and John Bates, but unfortunately I don't.
Never The Same Love Twice
"Well, let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice." - F. Scott Fitzgerald
She heard herself mumbling, waking from another dream. Other than those small, indistinct sounds, the room was silent – still occupied only by herself. For how much longer, she wasn't sure. It seemed something of a luxury, and she was aware such rarity was to be cherished.
The light broke through the curtains' shield, the thread of her dream slipping away whilst the memory it left was already lingering, lifting her up on a cloud.
She washed and dressed, pulling back those sun-faded curtains to reveal her small window onto the world below. There was still a bit of sleep in her eyes, and she rubbed it away promptly, stretching her arms and back. It hardly seemed far past dawn.
There was so much to think about. The family would travel to London imminently, not for very long. Lady Mary complained about the shortening of the trip, even if she didn't appear particularly enthused about going in the first place. There were all of the clothes and things to organise, whilst her other duties continued. Just because there was a war on, it was no excuse to let everything go to rack and ruin – or so Mr Carson said. Anna supposed she agreed, in as far as thinking that keeping a routine going was the best thing that could be done.
War did go on. Something had told her that what people had said about it being over by Christmas was rather too hopeful, but she had not expected this. A letter had come from her sister last week, and it still played on her mind. Her husband had been called up. She could read that Jenny was putting a brave face on – doing what Smith girls only knew how to – but the disbelief in her words was plain. Anna felt it too. She wanted to take some leave to visit; she had started to write a reply. Nothing seemed like it would really do any good.
There was too much to think about, so many distractions to get her through the day.
Yet the same thing remained, making her feel happy and foolish, lost in a daze and also grounded firm. Somehow it wasn't curious at all to her that those two opposite states should exist together.
She had stopped counting the days and months. It seemed silly, considering it was now as though she had always been this way, even though that notion made no sense either.
She had never been in love, not before Mr Bates.
It hadn't been as she had imagined - but that was the trouble precisely, as she hadn't really imagined anything. Of course, she had read novels with the romantic ideas they presented. She used to laugh about them with Gwen, and when Gwen fell asleep, carried on reading by candlelight. They were nice enough for an escape, but they were stories. Nothing seemed real about them. She certainly wasn't going to be whisked away or swept from her feet. She didn't want to be. Once her head was upon the pillow, there were no dreams that entered her head.
There was her mother and father, but she was too young to really understand what had been between them or even how it started. They had grown up living two doors away from each other, she remembered. Anna had long gone away from everyone she had known when she was small. Her chance had never been a real one – even since before she left – and it hadn't mattered.
Hope was ebbing as the days passed, growing darker for everyone. There wasn't a day that passed where she didn't smile, unable some days to keep it to herself. Her tread was light and her heart wavered between beating hard and fluttering lightly. Meal times were sometimes the greatest effort, pushing food around her plate to make it appear as though she were taking part. The butterflies within her stomach were too energetic to cease their wings. She was lucky that for the most part she was able to rouse herself to catch the orders that Mrs Hughes gave her, with there being only the odd occasion in which they needed to be repeated for her benefit.
She went outside or back up to her room, taking herself to task quickly.
There were moments when it made her reckless, usually as the sun nestled down in the sky over the courtyard, and they were alone – for such a brief time. The taste of him tingling upon her lips; his hand remaining upon the small of her back, a touch which neither of them wanted to relinquish, not just yet. Love took over her actions as well as her thoughts, her hands grasping at the lapels of his jacket. His eyes meeting hers, seeing everything that she was now assured that he felt too.
The spring was warmer this year, though the late evenings still held a chill.
"It doesn't matter," she said, her breath almost stolen away, registering the gentle press of his fingers as they held onto her. "Everyone would be too busy to notice."
She didn't really believe that, but for a time the love she had for him made her forget. It made her feel strong, solid; it left her in chaos, but calmer and more confident than she had ever been in her whole life.
Love had become her fuel, her reason to watch the sun rise every day. At night she dreamt of his arms around her, and she wasn't ashamed at her sense of loss in the morning when her dreams faded, because she knew that one day she would know them forever.
She would never love like she loved him, not ever, and when he smiled at her everyone and everything else became an impossibility.
"I love you," she heard him say moments before they went back inside, and her soul bloomed. Having the words after so much hoping would never be anything but a thrill to her.
When she lay her head down - still as it danced, her heart leading her in every whirl and step – her joyful reply was the only thing left behind on her lips, and it was a good job that nobody else had needed to speak to her that night.
For the only thing she could have said was "I love you too, Mr Bates."
He had woken that day knowing that by the end of it, everything would be different. But that wasn't true, not entirely. There would be a change, a most wonderful one – in the eyes of law and the God that she believed in and whom he wanted to do right by – but for him, above all, it would be an affirmation.
He had loved her for so long; longer than he really should have allowed himself to. His once-hardened heart had been called to surrender, made soft once more by her kindness and her patience, brought back to life by her tenacity and courage.
There was no shortage of things to love about her, and she had done what had surely been impossible, putting the broken pieces back together with her small, skilled hands, which had never seemed to have missed a day's work in their life yet always held such tenderness.
She had made him worth loving again.
He looked into the small mirror, smiling briefly as he became his own valet, making himself as presentable as he could. Good enough, good enough.
The sweet voice of his Anna rang around his head – last night he hadn't been able to sleep, and took to retrieving a particular book from near the bottom of the pile beside his bed, running his fingers down the edging of the spine and the words on each page. It was a favourite of hers, and he read each sentence to himself in her Yorkshire tones, feeling content and soothed even in the passages that held such uncertainty and tension. She was there with him until he drifted off, and pictured her standing in front of him, dressed in white with her hair loose upon her shoulders. It was not how it would have been, he knew that even in dreaming, but he still cherished the image.
The part of him that believed it might be true had not been silenced completely, but it did not matter as everything else outweighed the claim. He met his own gaze, and saw the shadow of sapphire blue irises staring back at him.
He would never again say that he was not good enough for Anna, or undeserving of her love.
Her love was his – of all the miracles on earth. And yet, it was the most natural thing that his love should belong to her.
For everything she was, and everything that she had inspired in him, it was her alone that made him love, and made him whole.
He was a bag of nerves. She looked absolutely radiant. When he took her hand into both of his, he became at ease, and though there were never any words that had been quite as significant he spoke them with no hesitation, having practised them in his heart for some time hence.
The golden band slid into perfect position on her left hand, and he seemed certain that his heart would burst.
Her smiling face in front of him was all that he could see.
There was time enough for them to stay in Ripon before needing to be back – John had the mind to find them some lodgings for the night, although it was an idea that was impractical, if not so much as never returning to Downton again – and they walked arm-in-arm around the village until Anna spotted a secluded tea-shop.
"Do we have enough money?" she asked, glancing up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. It gave him a thrill all anew to hear her refer to them as the same person so quickly.
"Enough for a treat or two," he replied with a smile, bringing her hand closer to his chest.
"There was me thinking that I'd been treated quite enough already today."
Pulling out the chair to allow her to sit before him, John couldn't take his eyes from her. They ordered tea and some cake, and talked of the future without any of the cares it held. They were all wiped away, with a wave of her hand. She removed her gloves again, smiling with delight as she caught sight of the new adornment upon her finger. He admired it the same until he could resist no longer, and reached out to circle her hand within his upon the table, feeling the cool metal press into his skin. The waitress offered her congratulations as she set the teapot down, and they both laughed once she had walked away, feeling happy and free as Anna rested her hand on top of his.
"My husband," she uttered, her lips still holding her smile as she spoke.
A wave of pure love washed over him, coming to believe that it was actually finally true. All that he had promised her so long ago had come to be, even if it was not entirely in the way he had wanted for her, and he had made her wait far too long.
"My wife," he replied, almost too overcome to say the words, moving his fingers gently beneath hers to stroke her palm.
He couldn't avoid the thought, as wondrous as the day had been. How he wished that he could have called Anna his only wife, that he had not spoken sacred vows before he had any idea of their true meaning. He may have been married before but it had only been in name, not in heart nor soul.
Only now did he know what it was like to love another with all of himself, to promise his life so unreservedly and mean it with every moment that passed.
He kissed her hand openly, his heart singing at the echo of her giggle, slightly taken aback by his lack of discretion. When he looked up into her eyes again, he was somewhat stunned by the fire he found there but not at all surprised by her beauty, blooming yet more brilliantly now before his gaze.
He kissed her lips when she was dressed in white, golden-edged by the flame of the fireplace and the gilded decoration of the sheltered room, dreams waiting on the precipice, their hands entwined.
She was his wife and he was her husband, and their love knew no boundaries.
The dawn had risen, and for once, she was glad to be witness to it. She couldn't have willed it to come quickly enough.
Her heart was simultaneously the hammer within her chest and the lump lodged in her throat. Blood rushed its way to her temples, and her hand clung like a vice to the inside of the car. Every other second her eyes looked out of the rear window behind her, yet she dare not make her move to step outside. Not until she could be sure.
Half of her didn't know what she would do, when she saw him once more in the clear light of day. Her visions of him had become dulled by the grey confinement, shadows shading his features. She had cherished every visit, her eyes always missing the sight of him. There was no one so handsome as him. His strength in spite of it all made his eyes burn and shine like the embers of autumn leaves, giving her reassurance.
He was not lost.
He was always in her thoughts. Not an hour – nor minute, nor second – went by without him there. His smile remembered from a summer's day, when their cares were blown away on the breeze. As much as she kept him going with her visits, he lifted her up too, on the days that were longer than others, on the nights that felt endless.
Her eyes could never look too closely. In the denial of touch they were her means of showing all that she was doing for him, of the devotion that could not be stopped by walls too high to climb. There were times enough when their love knew no other expression, and it brought the faintest smile to both of their lips to remember, sat across from one another.
Her smile extinguished quicker than a flame put out when she saw the purple bruise upon his cheekbone, the imprint left clear upon her mind when he turned his face quickly away, focusing his eyes upon her.
She missed touching him. She yearned to take his pain away, yes, but most of all she wanted to tell him. Running her fingertips over the curve of his jaw, the singed and bristled skin, whispering without words.
He was loved. Beyond it all, if she were never to see him again; if this life kept them at such a distance, that there was another eternity waiting.
In any of them, he was always loved. Only and ever.
The door opened, letting the greatest light out. The sky was painted with the starting of the sun and Anna felt the warmth of its embrace as she stood, overwhelmed by the sight of him. He looked so well. He was as broad and bulky as ever, the early hour and the golden hue suiting him to every degree, showing how glorious he was and would always be.
She saw his smile, and tried not to dissolve into tears. With each second that went by, it grew wider.
He was looking at her.
She ran towards him, feeling weightless for long moments, the wind that barely blew carrying her.
When his arms went round her, she was returned.
She laughed against the tears in her eyes as he held onto her tight, pressing her face into his shoulder while he did sought to do the same. They were melding into one. Her hands were not big enough to cover all the places that she wanted, memories sparking with each stroke of her fingertips against the wool of his overcoat. She inhaled deeply, his scent containing new elements but as familiar as she had always known. He had not changed, in all the time they had been kept apart, and she was so incredibly happy.
She could feel his lips press and whisper against the side of her cheek, hearing the words from his heart before he spoke them. Her heart answered back with the same words.
She took a breath that wasn't full of him, feeling a little light-headed.
"Thank God."
He nodded, bursting into a laugh.
"Yes, Thank God." His eyes covered her, held her just as close to him as his hands did. "And you."
Their lips met, and the love she had held for too long found a release, somehow even sweeter than she had imagined. It met with the love she felt for him now, a power that was so great that half of her had not bargained on it. She was almost surprised she did not disappear into him, having had to be only half of herself for such a long time.
His sigh made her heart climb higher as they embraced, rocking slightly in one another's arms. She had always dearly loved the feeling of his palm pressed just so against the small of her back, and it was even better to her now, a shiver dancing up her spine before his fingers trailed upwards.
He cupped her cheek firmly, his mouth meeting hers and replacing her smile with a blistering kiss.
"Mr Bates," she exclaimed, close to collapsing into giggles, "you can't have left your manners behind."
"Just one more kiss," he replied, staring into her eyes and straight into her soul. "To quench my thirst."
She beamed, brushing her hand at the back of his neck before she brought her lips to his again, slowly and reverently. His hands slackened slightly, softening against her but never leaving, not for a second.
Anna savoured the taste of his kiss, known to her so wonderfully once more, and could think of nothing other than how lucky she was. How many others had loved and had love taken away from them, and hers always returned, every time growing stronger.
She had never lost this love, not for a single moment, but she was beyond amazed to have it in her hands again.
"Let's go," she smiled as she slipped out of John's arms, putting her hand into his. "I need to bring you home."
His smile back to her was warmer than the sun which was being further unveiled, and spoke louder than any words that could have been said.
With each other, they were both already there.
Night had long since fallen; the chirping of birds had ceased outside the window, and everybody in the world was surely asleep, lost to the serenity of the hour.
From his side he perceived small sounds, the very soft huffs of her breathing – in and out, in and out. The most natural of states that had him captivated.
John smiled as he gazed down at Anna, the flow of her golden hair stretching past the fold of the covers tucked over them both gracing his eyes. One of her hands was tucked beneath the pillow as she faced away from him, sleeping soundly.
Peace seemed too rare these days, but he found it here, knowing that she was safe.
She had been tired the past few weeks, barely being able to keep her eyes open when they got back to the cottage. She worked so very hard; it was natural to her. He was worried that she was going to burn herself out too soon, if she hadn't done so already without thinking.
She knew that he worried about her. He didn't do a particularly good job of hiding it. They acknowledged every so often with a look that was shared, but never spoke. He tried to conceal, to put a stop to his fretting, but it occurred to him that it was impossible when she was the only one who could put his mind at rest. It was the strangest circle that revolved, yet one they would live with, for however long.
They retired early, and Anna was asleep near enough as soon as she had climbed into bed. He had dozed a little – he found he was more restless if he stayed downstairs – but it must have been too soon for him to contemplate sleep as a serious proposition. He took up the book from the table at his side, his speed slowed. Two hours must have passed and yet he had only read a little over four chapters.
He rubbed his eyes, letting the pages close, the words already having blurred before his eyes. Anna's barely audible snores soothed his ears and he shifted carefully onto his right side, still upright.
He hoped that she knew that he loved her more with each day that passed. He loved her more than ever. She saw the shadows in his eyes, when they were both tired and hurting, but he so fervently hoped that she never lost sight of the light that was always beneath. The light which only ever shone for her, because she was in his life.
Because she was his life.
Most of the time he was certain. She still smiled towards him, sometimes entirely offguard – those particular smiles were amongst the sweetest he had ever known. She spoke his name both softly and with emotion that ran deep. She held his hand, on the days when courage allowed her.
On some days he wasn't as sure, and those were the days he wanted to take away for the both of them. Her eyes cried less, but the sorrow was there in them. The despair. His arms felt empty, lost of purpose, but he held her wishes with the highest regard and as the greatest power. She looked at him in the sunlight, even if it was washed white. He told her the best he could, though sometimes he worried that his eyes didn't speak clearly enough.
It could never have been an obligation to love her. Loving her was nothing other than a privilege to him.
She had started to whimper, peaceful sounds of sleep disappeared. He could see her limbs twitching, throwing the covers away from her. In the space of a few seconds, she was almost shouting, her eyes still shut tight.
His heart ached for her, his perfect and dearest love.
"Anna. Anna. Anna."
He said her name softly, knowing it was the best way. He wouldn't dare to move, only speaking until she was roused. Sometimes even then it took a while until she trusted. He would persevere, repeat her name back to her for the rest of the night if that was what was needed.
Sometimes it took a few moments, when she looked at him, to remember who he was. Those moments seemed eternal, and he wanted to disappear into darkness. His heart would always seem to stop, though he knew better.
Then her blue eyes blinked, holding tears away, and she nodded. His smile was small, but there all the same.
"John," she uttered, an merest echo.
She opened his arms, fingers stroking the sleeves of his pyjama top tentatively, and in the next moment she sunk her head squarely against his chest, her arms circling tight around his middle. He had got past feeling too reluctant to place his hands gently upon her, feeling only her need for comfort.
"Shhh, my love. I'm here."
She hugged him so tight that he almost found it hard to breathe.
"I'm always here. Always."
He smiled as she moved her head, gazing up towards him. Her eyes, while not without their tears, were clearer than he had seen them in a good few months, if not entirely longer. His thumb wiped the traces of wet from the tops of her cheeks, the gentlest of touches that he could ever offer.
She smiled back at him, her arms relaxing their hold.
To have her in his, he had never been so privileged.
"I'm not afraid," she said, her voice losing its waver and becoming stronger. His butterfly made of steel, his warrior.
"Never," he replied, brushing his fingertips against her arm. "You, my love, are braver than any army."
She made the smallest sound against his chest, burrowed there safely.
"I love you," she mumbled after a while, drifting he could tell into sleep once more.
With the lightest touch, he laid his lips upon her golden hair.
"I always love you."
They walked in-step, the leafy trees proving to be a canopy over their heads as they made their way through the little clearing. Each night was getting lighter - there was still a little while to go until midsummer arrived – and there had been no rain in a couple of weeks, so they stuck with this slightly longer route home from the Abbey, the fresh air doing the world of good.
It was also the path they had taken when they visited their cottage for the first time – before it was even theirs by right – and Anna could not hide her smile at the memory, as fond as if it happened just yesterday.
At the same time, if she had been given the chance she would not have asked to go back, as peculiar as that may have sounded.
The evening had been a pleasant one, even with the remnants of disquiet that had remained in the house. There had been the happy news of Lady Rose's engagement that had been announced, which had everyone talking and the younger maids fluttering with excitement, though none of them would get the chance to go. Mr Molesley had been engrossed in a book before dinner, Mrs Patmore coming close to having to tear the volume from his hands to make him pay proper attention to the plate of food before him. She made the mistake of asking what was so wonderful about it, and the whole of dinner was spent with the rest of them listening to him wax lyrical. He was doing his best to catch the eyes and attention of Miss Baxter, who was still in a somewhat subdued mood. Instead Mr Carson was the one who had the most interest, engaging the younger man in a range of philosophical questions on the book's subject matter. Mr Molesley flustered and fumbled, and didn't really say much in the way of answering in the end.
Across the table, John had caught Anna's eyes, raising his eyebrows at the rather one-way conversation. She had stopped herself from letting out a giggle, feeling quite sorry for Mr Molesley, knowing he hadn't bargained on such a thorough interrogation. She remembered the suggestion he had made to her quite some time ago of starting their own book club, and still couldn't quite believe it. It was the closest to 'brazen' the footman had ever been, and even then his hopes had been dashed before they could start.
She had been staring at her husband all evening without him having to get her attention to do so. Perhaps the talk of the newly betrothed Lady Rose had played a part in it, but in truth she would have done so regardless. There seemed to be something about him – a certain air, the way he held himself – that had her entirely distracted, and unable to stop smiling behind her hands, even with everything that was happening around them.
Before the butler could put forth another enquiry, John picked up the book with interest, saving a floundering Mr Molesley without signalling the man's embarrassment, talking instead of his own curiosity. Molesley smiled gratefully, and promised to lend the volume to John once he was finished with it.
Anna felt his gaze upon her, and looked up at him as they carried on walking. She laughed lightly, realising that her grasp upon his arm might have become a bit too keen. For his own part he offered her a soft look, slowing down his stride. The warmer weather was favourable for him, and he was the one walking a little faster tonight. Anna was quite content to enjoy the summer evening, the air that was still warm upon the back of her neck even after the sun had set.
"You're smiling rather a lot tonight," he commented, less than astutely, and she believed he knew it.
"Can't a woman enjoy the company of her husband?" she replied with a hint of flirting, a glimmer in her eyes. "Especially when she gets the chance to be entirely alone with him."
He chuckled, and lowered her arm gently so that they could hold hands.
"I'm not complaining about it," he said. He gave her fingers a tender squeeze. "It's good to see you smile so freely. It's my one of my favourite sights."
She shook her head, pretending to be affronted. "Only one of?"
"There's no need for that," he struggled to hold back a grin at her slightly pouted bottom lip. "All of them involve you, my darling."
He halted their steps abruptly, pausing to raise her hand to his mouth. She could have told him off for doing so, but she chose to luxuriate in the moment instead, feeling tingles run through her and to every nerve.
"I don't know what it is," she began as they set off again, not too far now from the cottage. "I know not everything's sorted...but it feels like a new start, somehow."
She glanced upwards again, and was happy to see his smile in reply, understanding completely even if she wasn't entirely sure what she was speaking of herself.
"If we do decide to go ahead and sell your mother's house, and then think about somewhere else, it'll have been a long time in coming."
"I'm sorry about that," he said softly.
"I'm not," she quickly replied, rubbing her hand against his arm. "We've needed the time. To build up our savings, to start our life."
He smiled down at her, taking a moment or two before bobbing his head in agreement.
"I was the one who suggested it. The hotel." He looked a little solemn in passing. "If you've changed your mind, then I don't mind at all. It was never meant to be set in stone."
"I haven't," she answered easily. "I don't know if we have to do it straight away, that's true. But I still want it with all my heart. Our little dream."
She remembered every word that they had said, the excited and happy smiles they had shared with hope in their hearts. Now that they had cemented their life together, built bonds that were strong enough never to be broken, the prospect was even more thrilling.
"There is another dream I want for us first," she started, smiling down at the ground before she raised her eyes to meet his.
It was all she had ever dreamt of; she had truly meant that. Now that any confusion was settled, she was much easier about broaching the subject once more.
"And you really do?" he answered, trying to temper the grin that yearned to rise upon his face. "I would never want to rush you."
This time, she was the one to take his hand into hers.
"Really," she smiled. "With all my heart."
She raised onto her tiptoes, bringing her lips to meet his. The kiss was intended to be a chaste one, and it started as such, but the thoughts in both of their minds led them to want more.
Before they could become too heated on the summer's night, Anna placed her hands over John's upon her waist, trying to regain her composure when confronted with the way he was looking at her.
"It's a good job we're so close to home, isn't it, Mr Bates?" she whispered to him, giggling seconds later when they mutually agreed to pick up the pace of their strides.
"Well done, Mrs Bates," Doctor Clarkson announced. She felt drained of energy, exhausted, doused with perspiration. "You have a healthy baby boy."
As achingly tired as she was, she wouldn't dare close her eyes; not until she had seen him. She had already heard his cries, which sounded so unbelievably sweet.
Here he was, in the world.
She worried already, that the room might have been too cold, even though the fire was burning away in the hearth. He had been wrapped in a fine shawl, and Anna inhaled deeply as he was placed into her arms, her heart filling up.
A little boy; healthy, safe, absolutely perfect.
It took a few moments for him to open his eyes, though she was entranced by every single aspect. His nose was a beautiful little button, lips rosy and formed in a tiny pout. His hands and fingers were so small and without flaw, and she traced his legs through the covering – though she didn't have much to judge by, they seemed quite long. He would take after his father and grow to be tall, towering over her.
Love at first sight. There was no other way to describe it, the feeling that had consumed her.
"Would you like me to fetch Bates?" Lady Mary's voice came from near the doorway, having kept her distance in the few minutes since. "I doubt he will have gone very far, Mr Talbot has had to hold him back."
Anna let out a small laugh, gazing down at the warm and so very wonderful weight in her arms.
"If you could, m'lady. Thank you."
She couldn't take her eyes away from him, held him closer to her chest. He made a few little murmurs, and she smiled, fulfilled and happier than she had ever been.
"Just you wait until you meet your Daddy, my sweetheart." The baby blinked, shifting his tiny expression. "He will love you so much."
He was breath-taken, dizzy, overwhelmed and completely in awe. So many feelings he never thought he would encounter exploding to life within him. His cheeks hurt in the very best way as the grin filled his face, and his arms weighed down, holding half of his world within them. He looked towards the other half as she lay in the bed, dazed and smiling and never looking quite so beautiful as she did just now.
A son. They had a son. He was here, so small but so hardy, in his arms.
It seemed surreal, when he had cradled his palms against Anna's stomach every night and they would talk of the day that they would meet him. John had called him 'her' then. Whatever and however, he had known their child would be perfect. He took in the wisps of fair hair upon their boy's head and smiled with satisfaction, rejoicing in the curve of each and every one of his features. He would take after his mother, being fair in more than the one sense.
He had been so full of love for their child before he had laid eyes upon him. Now, the emotion was indescribable.
"I can't take my eyes from him," he uttered, joy leaving him with each breath he exhaled. "He's so perfect."
Anna answered with the most radiant of smiles, cushioned against the pillows.
"He is," she replied, stretching her hand out against the sheets. "Come here, the both of you."
John obliged, settling himself down ever-so-carefully, handing their son back into Anna's embrace. She was a mother, and he had such pure delight for the fact. He watched, heart swelling as she handled the baby with so much care and love – the kind he always knew she had within her – peeking her hand into the opening of the shawl. Their little boy cooed in response to his mother's touch, and John was certain that his heart had melted within his chest.
"What a way to start the year," Anna sighed, smiling down at the little movements she felt against her.
"I don't think there will be a happier one, as long as I live."
"You never know," she smiled, her heart fluttering when he smiled back, crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
Her husband before her eyes, her son in her arms. She had never felt so blessed, so full of love.
"No," John answered softly, "you never do."
He brought his hand down gently, stroking the boy's cheek with his fingertip. He brushed against Anna's hand, another touch of silk, and smiled towards her as she sighed just perceptibly.
"I only know that I am so very happy to have the both of you in my life. I love you."
Her eyes filled up hearing the sincerity in his voice, even though she knew it completely.
"And I love you."
Their lips met like the touch of angel's wings, delicately; their smiles melting together as they affirmed their greatest affection.
Their gazes, glazed with love, softened further on hearing the gurgles of their newborn. Anna kept her eyes faithfully upon John whilst he lowered, dropping a kiss onto the smooth and soft head that she cradled near.
"And we both love you, little William," he said with such pride it made her heart want to burst. As a father, she had fallen in love with him all over again. "You never need to doubt that, my lad."
He brought love to them every day, with everything he did. His first smile, his first laugh, first step and tooth – all such miraculous moments. Anna loved to behold the way his little legs would bound to the door when John arrived home, and how he would suck his thumb as he leant against his father in the armchair, listening intently as he heard another story. John would smile as his little hands reached to help Anna as she folded the washing or stirred a cake mixture on the kitchen counter, flour flouncing up onto the tip of his nose. Yet the dearest picture he always cherished was how William would curl into Anna's lap, eyes slowly drooping as she rocked him, singing the notes of a lullaby that he would never get too old for.
He was too young to understand, they both thought, but he still smiled, patting his hands against his mother's stomach as it swelled once more.
"Baba," he babbled in his happy nature. "Baba."
"That's right," John replied. "Clever lad."
"A baby, William," Anna chimed, cuddling their son close. "For you to love as much as we love you."
When she came along, it was love at first sight all over again.