this story came from a prompt to write about Mrs. Bates from TerrieJane's Weekend Challenge on tumblr. I appreciate her inspiration.
John sat at his mother's table fiddling with his tea cup and trying to muster his courage, "Mum," he hesitated, "I have a favor to ask..."
"Well it's about time, Johnny. I knew you weren't here just to share a cup of tea with your poor old mother." Margaret Bates reached over and refilled John's cup as she spoke.
Her son looked at her indignantly, "when have I ever been here in London and not made time to see you?"
Margaret chuckled, her eyes twinkling, "And did I say you didn't? I merely suggested you weren't here just to see me this time. You've been agitated from the moment you walked in the door Lad."
"Was I that obvious?"
"I can read you like a book dear, and don't you forget it. Now out with it son, what can I do for you?"
"I...I was wondering if you had any idea how I could find Vera?" He spoke quietly and couldn't quite bring himself to look at her. Consequently, he missed the slight smirk that lifted the corner of her mouth.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with your Anna, would it?"
"She isn't my Anna, mum," he said into his cup.
"But she is, Johnny. Whether you care to admit it or not, she is. She cares for you deeply else she wouldn't have come here asking about your past." She patted her son's hand, "and she wouldn't have accepted the information I gave her so easily. She loves you and I hope you plan to treat her properly."
"I've never done anything but! How could you think otherwise?"
"Oh, I'm sure you think you have. I'm sure you've been...honorable..."
"Of course I have..."
"But there's such a thing as too much honor, Love. I bet you haven't even told her how you feel." She waited for John to answer but when he didn't, she continued, "She loves you, and you love her, she deserves to know."
"How can I?" John pleaded with his mother and she smiled at the fact that he didn't argue about her assessment of his feelings. "What do I have to offer her? I'm a drunk, a convict, an old man with a limp."
"You are, and that's exactly what Vera saw when she looked at you. But when Anna looks at you she sees someone who over came the drink, who went to prison in someone else's place and someone who encurred his injury saving his comrade's life. You'd be a fool to let her go, Johnny."
They were quiet for a moment, "What do you see when you look at her?"
John sighed but looked up at his mother and when he did she had never seen the look in his eyes before.
"I see...I see," something inside John broke down and he gushed, "I see sunshine. I see comfort and joy. I see the life I never thought I could have but now I can't think of anything else. I see marriage and children and rocking chairs by the fire." He leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.
His mother reached across the table and patted his shoulder, "Tell her, John. Tell her how you feel. Love can live on very little nourishment, but it starves with none at all."
"But how can I when I'm not a free man? What will that give her?"
"Don't underestimate that girl of yours son. She'll not put demands on you, but she will sleep better for the knowledge that you return her affections."
John looked up again, "Will she?"
"She will," his mother reassured. "And in the meantime, I'll see what I can do about helping you find Vera."
"Thanks, mum" John rose and hugged his mother, "no matter what happens, you'll always be my best girl."
"Ah, go on with you," she waved her hands and laughed, "Get back to Grantham House and write that girl a love letter."
And that's just what he did.