A Cheap Dance by the River
Christy has taken over my life, and therefore needs more fanfiction. I am only too happy to provide.
Disclaimer: I wish so, so much that I were Catherine Marshall, or the producers of the show, who are evil, evil people for ending it how they did. However, my wishes will never come to fruition, for I cannot switch identities.
A shriek and a splash from down by the river.
"Boys!" I called, turning away from the looking-glass. "Leave your sister alone."
"Yeah, Daddy," Holly jeered. Neil's loud "Sorry!" echoed up to me. I smiled as I heard little Abigail's laughter, and the baby kicked in my stomach. I turned back to the mirror, and my smile was gone.
I touched my chin, my neck, my cheeks. I was so engrossed that I didn't hear Neil walk in.
"What are you doing?" I shrank back guiltily from the looking-glass, caught. "And don't you say 'nothing,'" my husband cautioned, crossing the room to stand behind me as I moved back to my reflection.
"All right, then," I gave in, pulling at a strand of long hair, the only physical aspect of myself I was still proud of. But I still felt no better. "My looks are gone, Neil," I said, trying to bear up. But one look into his lovely eyes above mine in the mirror sent me into tears. Without a word, Neil turned me around and into his arms, and I buried my face in his chest.
"Christy, love," he soothed, stroking my hair. His care only made me feel worse. "Christy MacNeill." Neil pulled me away from his shirt, keeping his loving eyes locked on mine. "I have known and loved you for ten years. You have never been lovelier to me than you are now."
I thought I would only be able to work up a watery smile, but I couldn't stop my joy at his words from cracking my tear-streaked face into a full-blown grin.
"You dazzle me with that smile," Neil breathed. Thrilled that I could still have that effect on him, I leaned up and kissed my wonderful husband.
The baby in my slightly protruding stomach kicked. We pulled apart from each other, laughing.
"He doesn't seem to like me much," Neil chortled.
"Nonsense," I rebutted, kissing his neck. "You know from the past four pregnancies that the kicking means he loves you very much."
"Well, then, he doesn't like me taking so much of his mamma's attention," Neil justified, capturing my lips again.
A burning smell met my nose, and I jerked away. "Oh!" I cried in dismay, seeing the smoke rising from the stove.
As Neil rushed around, putting out the burning chicken, I burst out laughing.
"I know that watching me attempt to stop our home from going up in flames must be entertaining," Neil quipped, his impatient temper flaring, "but I could use some help."
The fire was already out, so I just slipped my arms around his middle, having long outgrown my fear of his mercurial moods. "I was just thinking how familiar this feels."
Realising what I meant, Neil smiled once more. "Should I leave the Cove entirely when you cook?" he grinned cheekily at me over his shoulder. "I seem to be a terrible distraction."
I shot him my own cheeky grin and went to the door. "Children," I called, grabbing their attention. "Wash up for dinner!" Alice, our eldest, began gathering up her five brothers and sisters, the triplets covered in mud.
"You're going to make our children eat this, woman?" Neil called with almost-believable indignity.
"Of course not," I replied, getting out dishes and silverware from the cabinet. "There are enough vegetables and rolls to sustain them."
Neil pulled off a piece of the ruined chicken and popped it into his mouth. "Perfect," he assured me. I blushed at the memory, and his smile grew.
Neil's eyes travelled to the phonograph. I pretended I wasn't watching, intent on setting the table, as he slipped out the door. The strains of the familiar waltz drifted inside along with my husband, who took my hand and pulled me gently outside, to the same place where our first dance had begun.
I slipped easily into his arms, reminiscing of the beginnings of our relationship, promising myself that I wouldn't make this dance end as disastrously as our first.
Neil hummed the tune of the song, the only noise apart from the babbling brook where our children stood, mystified into rare silence.