Author's note: I grovel for your forgiveness for taking so long to update. On top of the holidays and all the associated craziness, there was a car accident (I'm fine, but the car was not), a momentarily lost memory stick, and a good dose of writer's block. I would love it if you would leave a review – or a prompt for a future chapter!
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"What is it? You sounded…nervous on the phone."
Harry and his daughter sat in the back garden, enjoying the last of the late spring sunshine. Catherine looked down at her glass for some moments before answering.
"I want to talk to you about something, but I'm not sure how to go about it."
He nodded slowly, and took hold of her hand.
"I know I've not been the best at…this, but I'm trying. I want you to be able to tell me anything…"
"I know, Dad, I do."
She had to give him credit, he was trying. Communication was never great between them, even before her parents' marriage had crumbled. But in recent years, he had been there for her when he could, through all the bad breakups and job disappointments. He may not have known what to say, but he had been a shoulder for her when she needed it. She decided to just come right out and say it, sensing the longer she mulled over her words, the more worried he looked.
"What happened, Dad?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've never been exactly effusive, but you haven't been yourself in months."
He removed his hand and turned his glance away.
"Dad, I know depression when I see it."
He sighed, thinking of all her parents' baggage that his daughter had to deal with.
"I'll sign the Official Secrets Act or whatever it is, just tell me what's happened."
He smiled ever so slightly, for little did Catherine know he kept blank copies of the Act in his jacket. He swallowed hard before looking back to his daughter.
"I lost someone…very dear to me."
For some reason, that wasn't the answer she was expecting.
"What happened? Surely, you can get her back? If she knew how…?"
He stood up, shaking his head vigorously.
"She's dead, Catherine. Dead. She died in my arms…and nothing's been right since."
She immediately rose and embraced him.
"Oh, Dad, I'm so, so sorry."
They stood like that for quite awhile, and she marveled at the man before her. He always seemed so strong, but here he was, using every ounce of his self-control to not cry in front of his own daughter.
"When?" she asked.
"August."
"You should have told me, you idiot," she admonished him.
He couldn't help but smile a bit at the endearment.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
And so it came about that Catherine ever so gradually learned about Ruth Evershed. She would sit in her father's overgrown back garden and they would talk over a glass of wine or a cup of tea. She would ask questions, and sometimes he would answer them. One hot summer day, he even brought out an envelope with some tattered photographs of a long-ago Christmas party and pointed her out.
"She was beautiful, Dad. But not quite what I expected."
"She never was."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Some months later…He left the minute he heard, rushing out through the pods like a man possessed, and he didn't slow down until he reached his destination. He saw his son-in-law first, looking haggard and awe-struck.
"She's in there."
In the bed just inside the room, he saw his daughter, happy but clearly exhausted, looking down at a tiny bundle in her arms.
"Come and meet your granddaughter."
Catherine handed the baby over for him to hold, and he thought his heart would burst right then and there.
"She's absolutely beautiful, Catherine…Just like her mother."
"We're calling her Laura Ruth. After Gran and…well…"
A small tear escaped his lid.
"Is that OK?"
"More than OK."
He leaned over and kissed his daughter's forehead.
"Get some rest, I'll hold her for awhile."
She nodded, sleepily, and was out before she could say anything more. The baby in his arms blinked up at him and yawned, and to his great relief, did not start to cry.
"Well, little one, welcome to the world…"
