Yes, yes, I know; I have two other stories I am supposed to be working on and I am. But this just sort of fluttered into my brain and took up residence and I needed to move it out to focus on the other stories. So here it is. If you'll recall the disastrous dinner party where the ovens broke and Martha Levinson took charge and Anthony finally popped the question...


Let me call you sweetheart
I'm in love with you
Let me hear you whisper
That you love me too

He stood behind her as her grandmother led them all in singing the song. It was a simple song meant to entertain the guests after some disaster with the dinner and yet as Mrs. Levinson had begun the first chords, Anthony Strallan had been drawn closer to Edith Crawley, as if each had a magnet within, their poles set perfectly to draw them together. It seemed that no matter how much he tried to fight the attraction, he found himself drawn closer and closer to the charming young woman. He'd once held ideas of marrying her before the hellish years of war and the changes brought as a result. The changes to him were the greatest obstacle to renewing those hopes. And yet, he knew Edith still had hopes of renewing their relationship, reviving those intentions, and attaching herself to him for the rest of his days. And while the mere thought of her beside him for life stirred so many feelings he thought had died in the mud of France, he wanted nothing more than to have the privilege of calling her sweetheart every day for all the days that were left to him. Anything less would not be living, but merely existing.

Keep the love light glowing
In your eyes so true
Let me call you sweetheart
I'm in love with you

She could feel him behind her, close but not too close. Ever the gentleman, Anthony Strallan would not do what she longed for him to do. He would not wrap his arm around her waist and hold her close, not with so many people in the room, not ever unless they were married. And married was what she hoped for, even after everything that had happened. She had been greatly disappointed by him the day of the garden party; the day war had been announced. Mary had told him things that he had believed. His eyes as he departed had said more to her than his mouth did; they told her that he was hurt and he had lost confidence. And she had never had the opportunity to set things straight until after the war, after meeting him again in Granny's drawing room. But she had seen it then and later in his library, the look in his eyes, the glow they seemed to acquire when he looked at her, that shy, disbelieving hope that sparked something deep within her. She wanted time with him, time to help him rebuild his confidence, time to make him believe in that hope, even if it took the rest of their days together. She wanted to have the right to call him sweetheart, to wake every morning to that glow in his eyes as he cast his eyes at her, to feel the warmth of their love.

Keep the love light glowing
In your eyes so true
Let me call you sweetheart
I'm in love with you

Alone in a corner later, he looked into her adoring eyes that seemed to glow with delight whenever she looked at him and he knew what he wanted. He wanted her to be happy and for some unfathomable reason, she seemed to believe he was key to her happiness. And so, despite his misgivings and the misgivings of her father, he found himself proposing to her. He didn't posses her confidence in their future, her quiet certainty that she would be happy with him as he grew older and less capable of seeing to her happiness. He tried to caution her, to question her certitude but to no avail. She sensed his apprehension and responded firmly. She was confident in their future but he was not. Still, for a time anyway, he would have the pleasure of calling her sweetheart and seeing that glow in her eyes. And when that glow faded, he would too until both were gone.

She could see his trepidation, could feel it as if it were a cloak that shrouded him. She knew if he had too much time to think, he would back away. So she decided that the wedding should be sooner, rather than later. He smiled tentatively, but he agreed. And as the party ended and they parted at the door, she leaned up as close as she could to him, gave him a gentle peck on his cheek and whispering, called him sweetheart. He'd flashed that shy timid smile at her but his eyes lost the anxiety they'd carried much of the night and began to sparkle with a clear, loving glow. And answering her whisper, his voice feathered into her ear. "You know, I'm in love with you."

Let me call you sweetheart
I'm in love with you
Let me hear you whisper
That you love me too ….