"What are you in the mood for for dinner? We could go out, but if you'd rather stay in, we need to do some shopping because we have nothing in the pantry."
He tried to ignore the fact that she used "we".
"I don't mind, either way."
Shopping turned into a bit of an adventure. Harry, who had very little idea what kinds of food he liked or didn't like, tended to want to buy everything. Ruth very nearly had a heart attack when the cashier rang up the purchases. They could be snowed in for a week, and they wouldn't go hungry. On the way back, they passed a wine merchant, and he nipped in before she could protest. A few minutes later, he came out with a bag large enough for at least two bottles of wine.
"To go with our lovely dinner," he explained.
"You haven't tasted my cooking yet."
"In that case, we may need this even more," he teased.
Harry was an able assistant in the kitchen, and Ruth enjoyed herself over dinner. They talked a lot about literature and music. He bitterly lamented that he could quote poetry but had no idea what his full name was until someone told him. The meal long over with, they sat enjoying the wine. Ruth had been surprised when she pulled it out of the bag – Harry had bought white burgundy, and a very good one at that. Her surprise must have registered on her face, because he immediately asked,
"Is that OK?"
"Sure." Maybe he's remembering more than he thinks he does. Or he could just like white burgundy.
"Penny for your thoughts."
"Just that this is much better than being at the clinic."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Please do."
He was looking at her, trying to focus the thoughts that were flying around in his head. She blushed again, and he apologized.
"It's just sometimes, everything is just out of reach."
"You shouldn't try to force it."
He pouted.
"Sorry. You must hear that all the time."
"You're absolutely right. I'm just not very patient. Don't laugh. I can see you're not at all surprised by that revelation."
"Oh, Harry. You're the same person. Just because you don't know facts and figures doesn't change that."
"There are a few facts that I'd give quite a lot to know right now."
She started blushing again, and he headed towards the sink and to do the washing up.
"Don't do that."
"No, it's the least I can do. Sit and finish your wine."
It was late, and they were sitting in the living room. One of Ruth's cats had immediately jumped onto Harry's lap and started to purr. They had good-naturedly continued their debate.
"But I thought spies likes facts, Ruth."
"Yes, but not exclusively. Sometimes you have to go with your instincts…"
They sat in companionable silence for awhile.
"I'm sorry about our argument in the car, earlier. I overreacted. It's just that my mother tends to get on my nerves…"
"Why haven't you settled down yet?"
"Exactly."
"What does your father say about it?" Her eyes clouded over, and Harry feared he had said the wrong thing.
"He died when I was eleven."
"I'm very sorry."
Now it was Ruth's turn to be concerned as the look on Harry's face changed.
"What is it?"
When he finally answered, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Do I have any family, Ruth? Is anyone missing me?"
She swallowed hard. Bugger Collins and his rules. She wasn't sure how much she should tell him.
"You are divorced. You have a daughter and a son. Catherine lives abroad, and Graham is…I don't know. Your mother died while you were at University, but I think your father is still alive. You've never mentioned him, though."
He tried to take it all in. It saddened him that it had been over two weeks since the explosion and as far as he knew, none of those that Ruth mentioned were worried about him. He suddenly hated himself. What did I do to drive my own children away?
"Harry, spy you may be, but not everything is within your control."
"Thank you."
"We should probably try and get some sleep."
"Right."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"I've got some extra towels here and…"
She stopped in her tracks when she saw him through the partially open door of her spare room. He had changed into dark blue pajama bottoms but was struggling with his t-shirt. She had forgotten about his shoulder. The right side of his torso was covered in still angry-looking bruises of greenish yellow.
"Here, let me." She helped him get his arm through the sleeve. He was surprised to find a tear starting to form in the corner of her eye.
"It's alright, Ruth. It's more stiff than painful. Usually my head's pounding so much. I forget about all the rest entirely."
"Good night, Harry."
"Good night, Ruth. I don't know what I would do without you." Then he gently brushed away the tear with his thumb and kissed her softly on the forehead.
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