A/N: I read that the first attempt at a Father's Day celebration was apparently made in 1910. I doubt it would have made the news over here, but artistic licence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
A Son's First Hero, A Daughter's First Love
1910
The servants' hall is the usual bustle of activity as Anna slips into the room, fixing the white cap firmly onto her head. She's one of the last to enter this morning, having found it very difficult to leave the warmth of her bed; it had left her rushing to catch up with her chores. Maggie, who shares the room with her, casts her a smile over the rim of her teacup. Anna distinctly remembers the young woman shaking at her shoulder in an effort to coax her from the sheets. She grins sheepishly in return, sidling up to her seat. Mrs. Hughes passes a cup of tea to her and she accepts it gratefully. She'll perk up right enough after this. There's nothing quite like a cup of tea to get her going.
Breakfast begins in the usual manner, the low hum of conversation flowing over her. Anna is always quieter during the first meal of the day, taking her time to grow into the long hours of work that stretch ahead of her. She butters a slice of toast and savours it melting on her tongue.
Thomas sits across from her, his nose buried in the morning paper. He hasn't been working at Downton for very long, just a couple of months, but he doesn't seem to be settling in very well. He's aloof and self-centred, looking down on those around him despite being the newest person there. The only one who seems able to get a response out of him is Miss O'Brien, who is as cunning and conniving as they come. Anna doesn't think it will make a harmonious alliance. They had all better be on their toes.
The young man makes a scoffing sound in the back of his throat now, smoothing the paper across the table top.
"Listen to this!" he says. It's become his habit to read titbits of the news aloud for everyone to discuss. It's usually incendiary matters. "Spokane, in Washington, America, hosted sermons throughout the city to celebrate fathers. The movement, led by Sonora Smart Dodd…" He breaks off there with a sneery shake of his head. "A day to celebrate fathers. How ridiculous."
"And why is that, Thomas?" says Mrs. Hughes. "There's nothing wrong with a daughter loving her father."
"Quite," Mr. Carson agrees. "Though it sounds rather needless to me. Why should there be a day to celebrate? A father is a dignified figure and a leader. He doesn't need such extravagances. The church should be reserved for the quiet worship of our Lord and Saviour, not the festivity of man."
"I like the idea," Maggie says boldly. "A day to celebrate my dad, I could quite go in for that."
"Men get enough celebration as it is," Miss O'Brien sniffs. "Undeservedly so, most of the time."
"Undeservedly so?" Mr. Carson booms indignantly. Anna ducks her head, concentrating on her breakfast. She does not intend to get caught in the crossfire of that particular argument. Miss O'Brien is more than capable of holding her own poisonous quarrel, fearless even against the butler, but it does not make comfortable viewing for everyone else. Opinions differ from person to person on the subject, but it is their private business, and Anna isn't comfortable with airing her views. Miss O'Brien may well be unhappy with the idea, and so may Thomas, whose derision when reading the words aloud cannot be denied, but they have no right to scorn anyone else's opinion.
Another reason that she doesn't want to dwell is for the sake of her own heart, for the sake of the pain that is still raw despite almost twenty years passing since that horrific day. If her dad was alive today, she would shower him with love and gifts without hesitation, would clamber onto the roof and declare him the best father in the world if it was required. She'd been taught too young that she should never take anything for granted. The warm, safe haven of a daddy's embrace had been ripped from her, and she had been lost for a long period after that, forced to grow up before her time.
She pushes away the memories of her stepfather firmly; it's something that she's grown so adept at over the years, like a genius mastering a difficult skill. He can't hurt her here, now. He was a coward, good for nothing but intimidating a small child. There was nothing masculine about him, nothing worthy of the title of a man, never mind any kind of father.
Unlike her own. Anna remembers every detail about him fiercely, refuses to forget. To forget him would be to let him go, and she doesn't ever want to do that. He might not have raised her through her childhood into adulthood, but he has shaped so much of her life from the heavens. The memory of him has kept her strong, kept her pushing forward, kept her fighting. All she has achieved in the last year has been spurred on by him. She won't be coy and deny that she hasn't done the hard work for herself, but she had needed that guidance from a higher power. She hopes that if her dad is looking down on her now, he is proud of the woman that she has become, is proud that she hasn't let the tests that life has thrown her turn her bitter and twisted, as they might well have done.
"Well, I agree with Miss O'Brien," says Thomas. It's no surprise. He agrees with everything she says. "Most fathers are not worth a penny. Why should they be celebrated?"
This is met by vexed cries from most of the female members of staff, who have clearly been treated softly by the men in their lives, and Thomas leans back in his chair, lighting a smug cigarette in victory. Anna chooses to ignore him. It's not worth getting involved, not worth drawing attention to herself. She'd told Mrs. Hughes upon arrival that her dad was dead so she'd been sent to work for money to help out the family, and she will never reveal more than that. She doesn't want people's pity. Or worse, their disgust.
Around her, breakfast continues to flow. She chews her toast and waits for Lady Mary or Lady Edith to ring; the latter is most excitable about it now that she is old enough to have a maid to dress her. Lady Mary isn't keen on sharing. She wonders what the two young women would make of a day to celebrate their papa. Perhaps it wouldn't make any odds to them, either. They love Lord Grantham, there is no doubt about it, but they have been raised by nannies and governesses and even Mr. Carson more so than their true parents. No doubt that that colours things, even only slightly.
She will never be able to celebrate the day for herself, even with it not being a proper holiday recognised by the masses. But she thinks that at some point today, she can take five quiet minutes aside to bask in her memories of the good man who had been her father, and give thanks for the too-short years that she had been allowed to know him.
1930
It is a rare early morning of peace.
Anna had woken with a start, surprised when there were no wails or squeals to draw her from her bed. She can't remember the last time that she woke with no immediate responsibilities to tend to. Sighing to herself, she wriggles out of John's loose embrace and rolls onto her back. Her husband snuffles a little at the disturbance, but he doesn't rouse. She has to smile at that. He's become a much heavier sleeper in the years since the children. They wear him out on a daily basis. She knows he's thankful for it every day.
His breath teases her ear with his rasping snores, and she turns her head on the pillow so she can scrutinise him properly. She barely ever gets the opportunity to study him without him questioning her on what she's doing. She relishes the chance now.
And how beautiful he is in slumber, the man who has made her whole world a brighter place in the years that she has known and loved him. He's a little greyer now, and more lined, but he has never been more perfect to her. Especially with the way that he works so hard for their little family, with the way that he loves their children so fiercely. She'd never underestimated how much John would love them, not with how much he'd longed for them, on an equal measure with her, but it still never fails to take her breath away.
Overwhelmed by her feelings, she can't stop herself from closing the gap between them, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, looping her arms around him and tucking herself against his body. She does feel guilt when he stirs, because with how hard he works he needs all the sleep he can get, but her self-reproach is eased when he nuzzles his head against her with a deep sigh of contentment. His arms, still loosely around her, tighten their hold now, and he blinks his eyes open, looking adorably owlish as he comes back to his surroundings. She kisses him sweetly.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she teases, trailing her fingers down his face, relishing the rasp of stubble.
"Morning," he whispers, drawing her closer. His eyes are still sleepy. "What are you doing up?"
"I've been woken by the silence. Can't you hear it?"
"Peace," he growls, his whispered hiss over the end of the word making her shiver. "Glorious, glorious peace." He tries to draw her closer, but she keeps him at bay with a smile.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Well, the hour is early, the children are asleep…" He lets the words tail off suggestively, though there is no mistaking the way that his hand has slipped under the hem of her nightgown.
"Mr. Bates, really," she says, pretending to be affronted. "Drag your mind from there right now."
"Don't they say that a man's mind is always there?" he replies, making no move to stop as he draws closer to feather kisses around her throat.
She lets him have his play for a minute before pushing him away. "There's no time for any of that. Come on, get up. It's an early start for you today, Mr. Bates."
"I preferred my idea of an early start," he grouses as he slips from between the cosy sheets. Anna stretches, luxuriating in the space that he's vacated, watching with a warm interest as he begins to pull off his nightwear. Her gaze lingers over the strong arch of his back, the tempting curve of his buttocks. He seems to feel her eyes on him, and makes no move to cover himself quicker. He's a devil.
When he's pulled on his undershirt and his trousers, she reluctantly slides out of bed too, reaching out for her thin gown and wrapping it around her, cinching it tight at the waist.
"I'll go and get breakfast started while you finish getting ready," she says. "I'll have a cup of tea ready for you."
He catches her around the waist when she brushes against him, and she giggles when he presses his mouth to hers. His hands have found their way inside her gown, span low on her hips. She grasps his wrists and eases him away, smiling as she peers at him from under her eyelashes.
"That's enough of that, Mr. Bates," she says. "That's not getting breakfast prepared any sooner."
"I see you're persistent, Mrs. Bates," he sighs, and at last capitulates. She kisses him one last time as a consolation, before ducking out of the room. She pauses at their children's doors on the way past, but she can hear nothing. They're still asleep. It seems that wonders will never cease.
She's putting the finishing touches to breakfast when John walks into the room, carrying his jacket over his arm.
He hangs it over the back of his chair and moves across to kiss her cheek, peering at the concoction on the stove.
"Porridge," she informs him. "That should keep you going until lunch. I'll come over with the children then."
"I look forward to it," he says, moving to take his seat. "It's my favourite part of the day."
"Charmer," she teases, setting the bowl down in front of him and dropping a kiss into his hair as he picks up the spoon.
"No, I mean it. You know I've always loved working with you every day. I'm glad that we're our own bosses so that we can still work together and raise the children at the same time."
"So am I," she agrees. It hadn't worked for her at Downton. She'd given it a try, but her connection with Jack had been far too strong. She'd gone from spending every minute of every day with him to barely seeing him at all, ducking in in between tasks to feed him but barely able to spend time with him beyond that. She was his mother but the nanny had been raising him, and it had felt so wrong, especially after all they had suffered to have him. Her loyalty to Lady Mary couldn't take precedence over her loyalty to her own flesh and blood, and it had finally spurred them into action to find a hotel of their own so that they could fulfil their lifelong dream. They'd found their perfect home in Scarborough, and had made that dream a reality.
By the time they'd moved, Anna had been bursting at the seams with their second child, a baby even burlier than their first—Lady Mary's words about there being nothing wrong with John still make her smile today. She'd given him another son, dark haired and dark eyed, the exact mirror of his father. Anna had almost burst with pride at having two fine boys. John had been just as proud, telling every guest who would listen about the two strapping boys that he had at home, wielding their picture like a mad thing.
And then Elizabeth had come along straight after, squalling just as loudly as her brothers to let them know in unmistakable terms that she would be no little lady, and Anna couldn't remember a time when John had looked happier than when she had been presented to him for the very first time. He'd always wanted a daughter, she'd known that right from the first pregnancy, and Elizabeth had been the final missing piece of the puzzle.
"We'll stay afterwards. I know we've got both the Elliots and the Taylors leaving this afternoon, and I want to be there to see them off. I can tackle some of the paperwork while you oversee the repair man, too."
"I can take Jack to keep him out of your hair," John offers. "He enjoys being involved, and it'll keep him out of mischief."
"He's quite the little gentleman around the place," Anna smirks. "He's very popular with the ladies, just like his daddy."
John rolls his eyes, and Anna stifles a giggle. It's a salve against the pain in her heart. Because all too soon, Jack will be heading off to school, and just like that he'll be out of the house every day, growing and maturing by the second. And she doesn't want that. Selfish as it is, she doesn't want her baby to grow up just yet. They'd longed for him for so long, their first true miracle, and it will be hard to let go and let him test his wings.
"Not that I'll get any peace and quiet," she says. "Not with Edward around."
"Put him down to nap with Elizabeth. He'll only be grumpy if he doesn't get an hour."
"Try telling him that when he's trying to explore everything around him. He's going to be a traveller, I can feel it in my bones already."
"Not for many years to come, I hope," says John, before he inspects his pocket watch. "Now, I really must be going. I need to check in with Mr. Neale and Miss Hartley."
"All right," she says, and he leans in to kiss her softly, toying with her braid as he deepens it for the briefest of moments. When he pulls away, he is smiling, the crinkles around his eyes deepening and his tawny eyes soft with his love for her.
"That was lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Bates," he says, and the cheeky lilt in his voice makes her shake her head. She can't fight her smile.
And, as she watches him walk away, an idea blooms in her mind.
An hour later, Jack and Edward appear, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, looking adorable beneath their tousled hair.
Anna swoops in to greet them with a kiss and a cuddle each, and they snuggle into her.
"Where's your sister?" she asks, nuzzling against them.
"Still asleep," Jack supplies.
"Well, that's all right. We shouldn't disturb her. I can get her something to eat when she wakes up."
The boys clamber into their seats at the table, and Anna bustles around, placing glasses of juice and water down alongside a plate of hot buttered toast. She's cut the slices into little soldiers to keep them interested. It's their new favourite thing. Ever since learning of their daddy's military career, the boys have clamoured eagerly to know anything they can about their own hero. John is endearingly reluctant to be forthcoming about any of it, so Anna does it for him, recounting the tales in as terms as simple as possible so that she doesn't confuse or frighten them too much with the monstrosities of the world.
"You shouldn't do it," John had said grumpily, once.
"And why not?" she'd countered.
"Because you're making me out to be something I'm not. I'm no war hero, Anna. Some of the things I did…" He'd shaken his head, the darkness flowing into his eyes.
"You did what you had to do to survive. I wasn't there, and I can't begin to imagine. But I know they must have been acts of atrocity that you would never wish on anyone else. It doesn't make you a bad person. You were following orders. To disobey them would have been a death wish. Obeying them mindlessly, that's what makes you a villain. I know what villains are like. And I know, John, better than anyone else in the world. You are not a bad man, and you area hero for saving Lord Grantham's life. You took a bullet for him. Not every man would do the same."
He'd quietened down after that, but she still sees his expression pinch whenever Jack or Edward mentions that their daddy is a brave knight who helped to save the realm. When they are older, doubtless the children will learn more about the true horrors of the war, especially their two boys. But they are young now, and so innocent. There is no necessity to destroy their innocence prematurely. John will simply have to bear the hero status that the boys have bestowed upon him.
Deep down, Anna doesn't think that he minds too much. To be his child's hero is every man's dream. To have three children who dote on him adoringly is likely to be beyond his wildest imaginings.
She looks at her two boys now. It's hard to imagine that Jack will be five at the end of the year. And Edward will turn four the month before that. Where is time taking them? Both boys are beautiful, both with their father's burliness. Jack has her fair colouring, but Edward is all his father; both of them are handsome and soulful. Anna loves them fiercely for it, and loves her husband for teaching them to be kind and gentle.
She drops kisses onto their heads as she returns with a plate of scrambled eggs, lingering so she can breathe in the baby scent that is almost gone now. Tears spring at the prospect, but she pushes them down. Today is not about mourning how quickly time is passing. Today is a celebration.
"I've had an idea," she tells them. "A surprise. Do you boys want to help me with that?"
Their eyes light up at the prospect.
When it's time for luncheon, Anna herds the children across to the hotel.
"Remember," she warns the boys, "not a word to Daddy. It's our secret."
They nod gleefully, though she isn't sure how much attention they're paying, not when they're so excited to see their father again. Little Elizabeth blinks at her as if she is agreeing with her silent assessment.
John meets them in the lobby, and they shout when they see him, peeling away from her so that they can run towards him. John sets his cane aside and bends to meet them. Anna sees him grimace, and makes a note to scold him about it later. For now, she stands back with their daughter while the boys roughhouse, clambering all over him and nuzzling into his arms. John squeezes them tight and gently pressing his head to theirs. They are still so small, and he looks like a giant in comparison. The gentlest giant of them all.
After a few moments, John eases them away, rising with gritted teeth. The boys are pulling on his legs in an instant, but he shakes them off.
"And how are my two favourite girls?" he asks, daring to put his arm around her waist. Anna beams at him and Lizzie laughs, reaching out with pudgy arms. John takes her, bouncing her and making her scream in delight. She makes a grab for his nose. He laughs, and ducks in to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek.
"Daddy, Daddy!" she squeals. "Miss you!"
"We're fine," Anna says as he moves to kiss her too, a soft, chaste kiss pressed to the side of her mouth that makes her insides curl. "We've had a good morning."
"And the children haven't been too fussy?"
"Not a bit. I've kept them occupied."
"There's a decidedly mischievous glint in your eyes, Anna Bates. I'm intrigued."
"You'll have to stay intrigued for a while longer."
"That's got me even more curious."
"All will become clear in good time, Mr. Bates. Now, are we going to eat? I'm starving."
"As the lady commands. Come on, let's go through. The guests know you're coming over, and I'm sure they'll be excited to see the children."
Anna knows that John can't help but talk about them, showing their picture to anyone who will stand still long enough. They'd had another one taken last Christmas, with Lizzie cradled between her two big brothers. It takes pride of place on his desk, alongside the faded picture of her from the days he was imprisoned. His pride is endearing.
True enough, the guests make a fuss of all three of the children, and they play to the attention, putting on their best angelic faces. John drapes Lizzie over his knee, and she makes fast and usually unintelligible conversation with the women who approach to coo over her round cheeks and her bright, inquisitive eyes. At two and a half, she is coming on in leaps and bounds.
When luncheon is over, John heaves a sigh, handing Lizzie back over to Anna reluctantly.
"I have to go," he says mournfully. "Should I take Jack now?"
"Change of plans," Anna says. "Something's come up. I know I said I wanted to see the Elliots and the Taylors off, but this is important."
John frowns at her. "But you said you wanted to be here."
"And you'll do the job spectacularly in my place. Normal service will resume tomorrow. Besides, I need to put Edward and Lizzie down for a nap, and I have a couple of errands to run in town before I do that."
"I can do those for you before I come home, if you'd like. Save you a job."
Anna waves it away. "It's fine, it's something that I've got to do for myself."
"We will help, Daddy!" Edward says gleefully. "We been good and keeping the seekit!"
"Secret," Jack corrects gently.
"Secret?" says John, raising his eyebrow. "Now you have me worried."
"Nothing to worry about, love," Anna says breezily, thinking on her feet. "I said that to keep him out of trouble this morning."
John doesn't look convinced, especially with the boys' conspiratorial giggling, but he nods anyway.
"Right, we'd best be off," Anna says, wanting to go before the children let anything more slip. They hop obediently from their seats, and she fusses around them, fastening them into their coats before taking Lizzie's hand. John hugs each of them in turn and kisses them when no one else is looking. He kisses Anna's cheek too, and walks them to the door. She can tell that he's curious, and that his curiosity will eat at him all day. John is not a man who relishes surprises. He likes order and regiment, likes to anticipate things in advance so he can plan for it in meticulous detail. But she knows this secrecy will be worth it in the end, that he will be touched and overjoyed.
His eyes burn into her all the way down the street.
"Jack, I've told you three times now to put your colouring away. Daddy will be here soon and I need to lay the table."
"No!" Jack whines. "I'm not finished yet, Mummy!"
"You can finish off in the sitting room."
"No! I need the table! The floor is too bumpy. It will ruin everything!"
"John, I won't tell you again," she says firmly, using his full Christian name to emphasise her point. "If you don't do as you're told then you'll go straight to bed now and you won't get to see your daddy's face when he sees what we've done for him."
Jack pouts, throwing his crayon down in defiance. Anna has half a mind to carry out her threat, but he does stand and start to gather his things together, so she lets it slide for the time being.
"Thank goodness you're in a good mood," she says to her daughter.
"Me good," Lizzie says happily.
At that moment, Edward clatters back into the room, red-faced.
"Hands," Anna says, and he thrusts them out for her to see. "Yes, that's better." She takes out her handkerchief and rubs the smudge from his face. "There, perfect. Can you be a good boy and fetch the cutlery for me?"
"Where's Jack?" he asks as he does as he's told, stretching on his tiptoes to reach into the drawer.
"He's just finishing off. He'll be here in a minute. Now, come on, let's hurry, else Daddy will be here before we're finished."
Jack does slink back into the room five minutes later, still pouting a little. Anna ignores it, and sets him the task of pouring water from the jug into the glasses. He brightens a little at that, seeing it as a grown up job because of the precision it requires.
They hear the click of the lock.
"I'm home!" comes John's muffled call from the hallway. Lizzie perks up at once, and the boys stiffen, turning to look at Anna with wide eyes. She smiles at them.
"Go and greet him," she says. "And bring him in here. Remember what you have to shout?"
"Supise!" Edward reassures her. "We will do that. Come on, Jack!"
The two boys take off, their footsteps echoing. Lizzie slides from her chair and takes off after them. Anna hears them shout, and John's half-laugh, half-grunt. She imagines the three of them barrelling into his legs, clamouring for attention. She imagines the pure delight on her husband's face as he looks down at all three of his precious children, so very loved by them. It'll take him a few minutes to reach the kitchen now, with their enthusiastic greeting, so she busies herself with arranging a cup of tea for him, a little treat for him before dinner starts.
Jack and Edward reappear, dragging John by a hand each while Lizzie dances round his legs. He has his eyes closed. Anna suppresses a giggle at the sight. He looks decidedly unsure about being led blindly by two small boys.
"Keep your eyes closed, Daddy," Jack reminds him.
"I am, son. I'm not peeping."
"We have something for you," says Edward excitedly. "It really good!"
"Can I look yet?"
Anna gestures that it's all right for him to do so.
"Fwee, two, one!" Edward sings.
"Open your eyes, Daddy!" Jack shouts.
John does so dutifully, and his mouth falls open. Anna is pleased to see that he's genuinely shocked. "W-What's all this?"
"A supise!" says Edward.
Anna looks at their handiwork, pleased with their efforts. Their morning spent baking has resulted in a delicious looking chocolate cake—it's slightly wonky, thanks to the boys' efforts, but she's sure that that will only make it more charming than ever to John.
"There's more to come," she says.
"This is more than enough. But I still don't understand what this is in aid of."
"It's in aid of the fact that we love you," Anna responds. "And we wanted to show you that."
"You show me it every day. I don't need any extravagances."
Anna rolls her eyes subtly, unable to hide her smile. "Just sit down, John. You deserve a break after all the hard work you've done today. Boys?"
They scramble into their seats while Anna serves up the cup of tea and dinner, feathering kisses into his hair as she leans over him. John reaches out to grasp her, but she ducks out of his reach, putting down the plates for the boys. She sits herself at the table to try to encourage Lizzie to start eating; their little girl seems too interested in watching the interactions between her brothers and her father for anything else, interrupting every so often with shouts to get attention. With two boisterous brothers, it's only natural that she should compete for the limelight.
Dinner passes smoothly enough. Jack and Edward talk over each other to tell John about their day, competing for the most praise.
"I stirred the cake, Daddy!" says Jack. Anna had given it a better beating when he hadn't been looking.
"I set the table good, Daddy!" says Edward proudly. He'd knocked over one glass and broken it, leaving Anna to sweep it away with practiced efficiency born of constantly herding three young children.
"And what about little Lizzie?" John asks teasingly, running his hands through her wild locks.
"Me play, Daddy!" she says happily.
"I wasn't sure how much she could really do, so I gave her some wooden spoons and set the pans out for her. She made us some lovely music while we worked, didn't you, sweetheart?" Anna says. In actual fact, her eardrums had been ringing by the end of it, and she'd needed a powder to take away the pounding at her temples.
"Who's the talented little madam, eh?" he says, chucking her under the chin.
"Me," Lizzie says promptly.
"You certainly are, love. You certainly are." He looks around the table at all of them, his eyes warm and full. "You all are."
When dinner is over, Anna rises to clear the plates.
"Can I cut the cake, Mummy?" Jack asks brightly.
Anna has visions of it ending up on the floor or, much worse, Jack hurting himself with the knife. And if Jack wants to cut it, Edward will too, and that will only end in more tears. "No, I'll cut the cake. You and Eddie can get ready to give Daddy your presents."
"Presents?" John's eyebrow quirks. "Goodness me, what have I done to deserve this? My favourite meal, a lovely cake, and presents too. What fine sons I have."
They jut their chins proudly.
Anna dishes the cake out. It goes down a storm. Jack and Edward had wanted chocolate cake, and since John has a sweet tooth too, it had been the perfect choice.
"That was fantastic," John proclaims when he's eaten his last mouthful. "The best cake I've ever eaten. Who knows, perhaps we'll have two chefs on our hands in the future."
"Now there's a thought. The Bates Brothers Bakery, or something. Little Elizabeth can pursue other careers."
"Little Elizabeth is staying right here with her daddy, aren't you, love?" says John, wiping cake crumbs away from Lizzie's mouth.
She nods valiantly in agreement, reaching out to pat his hand with her tiny one. "Wiv you, Daddy."
Anna hides her smile. John constantly fluctuates between declaring that Lizzie will be the best in the world at everything, and proclaiming that she's never to leave. He's fiercely protective of all three of his children, but Anna supposes that there's something different about having a daughter. Her own father was the same.
"Boys, how about your gifts now?" she says, to mask the sudden lump in her throat.
They jump up at once and race from the room. John shoots her a look.
"I know what kind of things boys like to bring in," he says. "Worms from the garden, insects. I was one such boy. Will I need to be prepared?"
"I think you'll be very, very pleased," she says softly.
Seconds later, they're back, hands hidden behind them.
"I'm the oldest, so I should go first, that's the rule," Jack tells his brother kindly. He steps forward and thrusts a piece of paper out dramatically. "Happy Daddy Day, Daddy!"
"Thank you, son," says John, and takes it. Anna moves to peer over his shoulder. It's a picture. Jack has written Bates family in shaky, misshapen letters across the top, and drawn all five of them underneath. It's a valiant, sweet effort, if not very true to life—they all look suspiciously like potatoes. But Anna knows that John will treasure the drawing as if it's the rarest of della Francesca's works.
"Perfect," he announces. "I shall put it pride of the place in our bedroom. Thank you so much, Jack."
Jack wraps his arms around his father, and John kisses him soundly, squeezing him tight.
"My turn, my turn!" Edward yells.
John pulls away. "Yes, of course. What have you got for me?"
Edward presents his gift much more shyly. He clutches a bouquet of flowers in his fists. They're a little bit worse for wear, several petals missing and dirty roots showing, but they are brightly coloured and rather pretty. Edward has always been a gentle, wandering soul, and it's no surprise that he wanted to pick flowers for his daddy.
"Do you like them?" he asks.
"I love them," John replies earnestly. "They'll look lovely in our window, won't they, Mummy?"
"They certainly will," she says.
"Do they need a vase?"
"No, I put them in water already because Mummy says that they need it. And Lizzie picked this one for you." Edward wrinkles his nose. "She kept throwing dirt at me rather than helping, and this was the only one she liked, but she pulled some petals off and it doesn't look very nice."
It's easy to see which flower Eddie means; it's hard to miss it, situated in the centre of the arrangement as it is.
"Pwetty fower!" Lizzie says, beaming.
"It's artistic," says John, with the grace that he always shows. "And it's another thoughtful gift. How about a cuddle, eh?"
Edward obliges happily, and afterwards John reaches across to pluck Lizzie out of her seat. He tickles her tummy and kisses her too, and she wraps her arms around him, giving him a sloppy kiss that makes him smile. He's quite emotional. There are tears in his eyes.
"Right, how about we give Daddy some space while we tidy up?" says Anna, wanting to spare him from the questioning he'll get if the boys realise he's emotional. "Afterwards we can play a game."
John starts to protest, but she shoos him away, telling him to look after Lizzie. It's a task he's happy to complete, and the boys chatter happily as they help her make everything spick and span once more.
They spend a lovely evening together in the sitting room, playing with the tired old Snakes and Ladders board. John plays with Lizzie on his knee, letting her roll the dice for him and helping her to guide the piece where it's meant to go. They spend more time fetching the dice from the other side of the room, and the boys squabble about being banished down the various snakes' deadly throats, but they are happy. So happy.
When it's time to put them to bed, John hugs each of them fiercely and whispers that it's the best day he's ever had. Anna wishes that she could capture the way that her sons' faces light up at the admission, to keep forever alive in her memory.
When the children are settled, Anna takes John by the hand and leads him towards the bedroom.
"Are you ready for your present from me now?" she whispers.
His grin is decidedly lecherous. "I have a present from you too?"
"Of course. You are my babies' daddy."
"So I should hope."
She rolls her eyes, tugs on his hand. "Silly beggar. Now, come on."
"Well, Mrs. Bates," he purrs.
She can tell that he's eager from the way that he paws at her dress, toying with the buttons. She bats his hands away.
"Not yet," she says. "I said you had a present, not that you could be in charge."
He groans breathlessly, but she holds firm. They can't get carried away too quickly. They need to give the children a little bit of time to drift off to sleep. It won't do for them to be interrupted in the throes of passion. There are other things they can do to pass the time. Anna smiles, pushing her husband down onto the bed and pressing herself into his lap. It's a very good job that she loves teasing him so much.
And tease him she does, pressing kisses to every exposed bit of skin she can find, scraping her teeth against him. She runs her hands beneath his shirt, feeling his searing abdomen, listening to the harsh change in his breathing as she tantalises him, locking him in a torturous bliss.
There's only so long that she can hold out.
When she's worked herself up quite as much as him, she pulls away. John's grunt is garbled and primal, and he grabs at her waist to hold her heavy over the hard press in his trousers, but she slips away from him, sliding backwards until she can plant her feet on the floor. She waits until she has eye contact with him before beginning the meticulous task of shedding her layers, and he watches with rapturous, reverent eyes as she coyly undresses.
His breath hitches when she stands before him in her new undergarments.
"My God," he breathes.
"Do you like them?" she says, twirling for his benefit.
"Christ, of course I do. When did you get these?"
"This was my errand this afternoon," she says, with just the right lilt in her voice. "Do they suit me?"
"They look incredible. But they'd look even more incredible on the floor."
She shoots him a saucy smile, and carries out his unspoken plea.
By the time that she's down to her last item of clothing, John is at the edge of the bed too. She moves to stand between his opened legs, and he draws her to him eagerly, his lips zoning in on the bud of her nipple. Anna throws her head back and sighs, holding him in place against her as she begins the clumsy, one-handed task of undoing the buttons on the front of his own shirt.
It isn't long before they're falling back onto the bed together, grappling to find each other's pleasure spots. Anna is victorious first, and John's sound is low and animalistic as his head falls back against the pillow. Anna shoots him a Cheshire cat grin as she presses herself against his hip, moving her hand with practiced ease.
"That's it, Mr. Bates," she purrs. "Just lie back and enjoy."
He certainly does that.
Anna holds herself above him on arms that shake wildly, her whole body weak and quivering from the intensity of her end. John's nails dig into her hips, an exquisite pleasure-pain, and she kisses him deeply, until she is almost dizzy with the harsh gasps that she is drawing into her lungs. Then she rolls to the side, snuggling up against him. He drapes his arm around her.
"That was nice," he murmurs.
"It was," she agrees.
"I think it was a present for you as much as it was a present for me," he teases.
"Maybe," she says. "Are you complaining?"
"With how good it was? Never."
"That's what I like to hear," she says, and moves to kiss him again.
"What made you do all this for me, anyway?" he asks when they part, squeezing her hip in his hand.
She peers through the darkness. She can't make out his features, but she has seen the intent look on his face a thousand times before, and knows it's the expression he's pulling now. "This morning, it got me thinking."
"About what?" he prompts.
"About how much I love you, about how much you do for the children. We have Mother's Day, but we don't do anything to celebrate fathers. I know men's roles are different to ours when it comes to raising children, but that doesn't mean fathers aren't good in other ways. They tried to celebrate it once, you know."
"Did they?"
"Yes, in America. It got a small column over here, it was that scandalous. It never took off, but it got me thinking about my own dad, and what a good man he was." Her throat closes over a little, but she fights past it, and John embraces her tightly, his breath ghosting her forehead as he presses a hot kiss there. "My dad would have done anything for me and my sister, and I hate that I never got to see him grow old. I hate that he never saw me grow up, and he never met you, or his grandchildren."
"He sounds like a great man," says John. "He must have been, to raise you. I just hope that he would approve of me."
"I know he would," she responds fervently. "You make me so happy. And that's why I wanted to do this for you today. The way you are with our children is amazing. I could never have hoped for a better father to our children, and you were the one who helped my dreams come true. Why wouldn't I want to shout it from the rooftops? You deserve all of the love and attention in the world for what you do for our family. I wanted to give you the day that my father can never have. I want you to have one day where you're not taken for granted."
"I never feel taken for granted," he protests.
"Well, we want a day to appreciate you. You can't object to that."
"I don't." The wonder in his voice makes her heart swell; how is it that, after all these years, he is still disbelieving of the good fortune he's had? Her dear, humble man. Her husband, her lover, the father of her children.
"We all love you, John," she says.
His voice wavers as he responds. "I love you too, Anna. You, and Jack, and Edward, and Elizabeth. You are my whole world."
"And you are ours," she whispers.
She wraps her arms around him and brings his head to her chest. He settles against her and she listens to the change in his breathing, stroking soothing fingers through his hair. They'll have to change soon, pull on their nightclothes in case of any night time visits. But she can enjoy the sensations for a little longer, the man who has given them all so much. Her sons' hero, her daughter's first love.
Truly the best of men.
Fin