We're nearing the end now, folks. Just two more chapters to go after this one. Thank you to those who took the time to reassure me that they're still reading and enjoying this story. I'm writing as fast as I can but I know that this series has been dragging on for quite some time now.
Chapter Ten
From the moment they were alone in their honeymoon suite, Helena took every opportunity and used every excuse to try to get her wife naked. Myka insisted, with a mischievous glint in her eye, that they needed to unpack first, and then inspect the room's amenities, check out the room-service menu, take a look at local attractions (in case they got bored) and take in the view from their new balcony.
In an effort to please and move things along, HG shoved her clothes - somewhat neatly - into a drawer and followed her spouse from one corner of their suite to another, taking care to drop a hand to a waist or rest her chin on a shoulder whenever the brunette paused. Like cat and mouse, they covered the vast room and en-suite.
"Would you like to inspect my unpacking?" the inventor whispered into an ear as they passed the love-seat for the fifth time.
Myka ran her fingers over the suede fabric and smiled knowingly to herself. "Maybe later," she replied, even as she wondered what her wife might have hidden for her enjoyment.
"You might like what you find," Helena pushed. "Are you sure you want to wait?"
Turning to place her hands on twin shoulders, Myka teased the straps of her partner's vest top and let her nails slide against heated skin until they hovered tantalisingly above sensitive points. She kept her amusement on a tight leash as she leant forward to brush her lips against the corner of a mouth. "Later," she repeated and slipped out of the loose hold, heading for the bathroom again.
Helena hovered in the doorway, watching her wife as the brunette played with the bath-taps, her backside deliberately positioned to the best advantage. HG twitched and shoved her hands into her pockets. It was quite obvious that Myka was testing her patience and will-power. The question was: how should she respond? What were the rules of the game and how could she win?
Any scenario where her wife was naked and longing for her touch was a win in Helena's book, but how to go about it? Subtlety was apparently not the aim of the game, but she wasn't about to give up her position so easily.
Striding forward, the inventor braced herself against her lover's waist and leant over the brunette to reach the taps too. She heard a short gasp and swallowed her grin. After pulling the lever to close the plug hole, she opened the hot tap to begin filling the tub. "May as well make the most of this chance to test the hot-tub function," she said casually before stepping back and grabbing the hem of her top to pull it off. With a challenging expression, she left the room, kicking off her sandals as she went in search of a towel. On the other hand, subtlety isn't always the best approach.
Myka followed the Brit's progress with lidded eyes and utter enjoyment on her features. She loved it when Helena chased her. She was aware that her behaviour highlighted her embedded insecurities - her talks with Abigail had uncovered that much - but they'd agreed that, in the right setting, it didn't need to be a flaw. Her wife wouldn't give up when she had her keen sights set on something; HG enjoyed the chase, and Myka wanted to be caught - she just didn't want to make the catching too easy.
Green eyes darkened considerably as the inventor dropped the last of her clothes into a puddle on the floor and then leaned over the bed to grab the towel that she'd purposely left just out of arm's reach. Don't take the bait, Myka thought repeatedly even as her legs carried her out of the bathroom. She caught her wife's predatory gaze and thousand-watt smile and faltered.
"Darling," Helena greeted as she straightened and placed her hands on her hips. "Would you mind terribly?" she asked and gestured towards the fluffy pile of fabric that looked to Myka the size of a hand towel.
Mouth suddenly dry, the brunette nodded, reaching blindly for the item in question as she skirted the corner of the bed and approached her lover, inch by inch. "I thought you wanted a 'clothes optional' policy for the next two weeks," she reminded her wife.
HG gestured to her current state of undress and smirked when lust-filled orbs followed to drink in the sight of her. "That's the plan. I still need a way to dry off though, else I'll be dripping everywhere."
Suddenly wondering exactly when her mind had become so susceptible to the suggestion of dirty-talk, Myka swallowed and half held out the towel for Helena to take. Their hands met and she kept her grip so that they were forced closer. "I have no problem with you staying wet," she confessed, her voice heavily laden with desire now. She was losing but couldn't care less. Either way, they'd both get their prize.
Through some miracle, Myka managed to pry her fingers from the towel and regained some ground with a step back and turned. She was almost out of reach. Almost had enough distance to regain some control over her libido but then Helena was moving with her and they'd barely reached the foot of the bed before the towel wrapped around her wrist and a naked body collided against her.
A startled laugh burst from her mouth and she turned back to fix the inventor with bright eyes. "Does this mean you give in?" she teased with a grin. She placed one knee on the mattress and hopped onto the bed, keeping them at eye-level.
"I concede," HG muttered distractedly as her hands reached for fastenings and made quick work of her wife's clothes.
Myka pulled the inventor into a kiss as they shuffled higher up the bed. She felt her lover's weight pushing her into the mattress and allowed a groan to fall from her lips. She could already see the glow from their skin increasing in intensity. Could feel the bond tightening between them as they became entangled. Helena's mouth took a winding path along her torso, its progress halting sporadically to pay closer attention to highly sensitive nerve endings until she made her way far enough south to sink her tongue into a well of desire.
Feeling the last vestiges of her self-consciousness fall away, Myka revelled in the knowledge that she was comfortable in her own skin and open to her partner. She was proud of her body at last and free to enjoy the way her lover seemed to worship it.
Suddenly feeling the need to have Helena's weight and scent surrounding her again, Myka sank her fingers into raven hair and encouraged her wife's mouth back to her own. She wrapped her legs around a lithe waist, welcoming the Brit between them.
As it often did, time lost all meaning while they moved together, making love. Hands knew just where and how to touch to bring the most pleasure and mouths spilled words of love and encouragement until they crested that precipice together, both tumbling down the other side to be caught in a safe embrace.
Eyes closed to savour the aftermath of blissful release, Myka smiled at the feel of fingertips tracing her features. When her eyelids eventually fluttered open, she found herself gazing up at an awe-filled expression and felt her heart skip a beat. Helena was looking at her with so much depth and emotion, it was overwhelming. She saw their past, present and future reflected in those fathomless windows and felt an ache deep within her for the child they had decided to do without. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she felt her lover's hands reach to soothe them away. I wish... she thought as images of a baby filled her mind.
"I know, Myka," HG whispered reverently as her subconscious echoed her wife's inner yearning. "Nothing is set in stone though, love. We know not what the future may bring."
Though she knew she wouldn't change her mind, something about these words calmed the brunette's thoughts. She nodded and drew the inventor down into a lingering kiss. What began as a slow, reaffirming exploration quickly turned into something more, something consuming. For no apparent reason, Myka's attention drifted for a fraction of a second and she had to pause and listen.
"What's that sound?" she wondered aloud, almost as soon as the answer popped into her head.
"The tub!" they realised simultaneously.
"Bollocks!" HG swore and rolled off the bed.
At the end of their second week in Kent - feeling pampered, rested and closer than ever - Mrs and Mrs Wells-Bering journeyed back into the centre of London. Holding hands in the rear of their Hackney cab, they exchanged secret smiles and shared a memory from a similar journey long ago.
Since the entire family planned to leave for the north the following morning, they didn't bother to unpack and left for the park where their family was spending their last full day in the capital.
Clouds were heavy overhead and the tingle of static in the air belayed the pressure of an oncoming storm. Precipitation was not forecast until the evening though so they were free to enjoy the warm afternoon with the occasional beam of sunshine that fought its way past castles in the sky.
Having the need to feel girlier today, Myka had chosen a summery dress that flapped pleasantly around her legs as she walked. Every now and then, her step pushed her closer to her companion and their hips brushed together slightly, prompting shy smiles and loving looks. Helena wore three-quarter length trousers, open-toed sandals and a loose fitting shirt that just hinted at the flesh beneath. Myka had a hard time keeping her eyes on the path before them as they constantly wandered over her wife's body, which had the added effect of causing more collisions. She couldn't wait to see her partner's body changing – filling out as their baby grew. She was still afraid of what the future held for their children, but excitement had replaced most of her reserve. How quickly life can change in a few short weeks, she marvelled.
HG smirked to herself after the fourth repetition. "Darling," she teased with her most exaggerated whisper, "if you keep staring at my ankles like that, people will begin to talk."
Myka snorted and bumped against her wife on purpose. "Shut up," she muttered. "I'm really going to miss having unlimited access to your... ankles."
"Believe me, love – my ankles are going to feel quite deprived before the day's end." They strolled round a curve in the path and spotted their family gathered on a picnic blanket near a large oak. "There they are," she noted with a relieved sigh. Her legs began to move but before she could take a step, an arm reached out to stop her.
"Wait!" the brunette said abruptly, tugging the Brit to face her. Hands rose to each side of a startled face as Myka took a moment to study and appreciate the moment. She watched as confusion quickly turned to gentle warmth and then leant in to meet waiting lips. Their position was too public to let themselves get overly carried away but when they parted, fire continued to smoulder between their gazes. She thought back to the beginning of their honeymoon and realised again how lucky she was to have Helena to share her life with; being given the means to create life again had thrown her for a loop and she hadn't exactly handled it in the best way. "I know the week before last wasn't exactly what either of us expected and I'm sorry again that I shut you out. I just want you to know that you were amazing and I feel so safe knowing that you're going to be there to deal with my crazy for many years to come."
"Forever," HG assured her wife and kissed her forehead.
"Forever... I love you so much," Myka whispered reverently. "You make me believe that I can handle anything."
Helena smirked, thinking back to her wife's enthusiasm once she'd let go of some of her pre-conceived ideas and embraced a new facet of their love-making. She turned them back in the direction they'd been walking and linked their arms together. "You can," she responded confidently. "We can... Are you ready?"
"More than ready," Myka confirmed, her features breaking into a radiant smile as Christina spotted them and jumped to her feet with a cry of delight.
Their strides quickened in sync, their arms full with little bodies by the time their toes hit the edge of the grass. They gathered in a small huddle with squeals from an over-excited toddler filling the air around them and drawing curious smiles from near and far. Christina's arms found their way around her Mama's neck and held tightly for several minutes as she breathed deeply to reacquaint herself with the missed scent.
Myka indulged her little princess, mimicking the action as she kissed soft hair and relished the feel of her child's love surrounding her. "I missed you too, sweetheart. Did you have a good time with Elle and Rupert?"
"Yes," the girl answered tentatively.
"But..." Myka prompted.
"I'm glad that you and Mum are back. It's not the same without you," she added.
"We know just what you mean, flower," Helena jumped into the conversation as soon as she managed to pry her son's hands from her face and hair. "Much as we both enjoyed our honeymoon, your mother and I have not found it an easy task to be apart from you for so long."
"What have you been up to?" Myka asked as she lifted her son from her wife's arms and Christina wrapped her arms around the inventor.
"We had a day at Madam Tussauds and had our picture taken with the queen, Grandma Elle took me to the Globe Theatre and we watched 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', and yesterday, we took the train to Cornwall and had cream-tea at the seaside..." Christina continued to recite every memorable activity from the past fortnight, barely coming up for breath as they reached their picnic spot.
"And bought buckets and nets so we could explore the rock pools before eating fish and chips on the pier," Eleanor finished for the girl as she pulled the newlyweds into a hug, one after the other.
"The beach was lovely... from a deck chair," Lila joked from her awkward looking position on a cushion.
Hearing a word she recognised, Sophie temporarily abandoned her food to add her own thoughts, "Me got cwab," she blurted excitedly.
"You caught a crab?" Myka engaged the toddler with equal enthusiasm.
"Mm-hm," Sophie nodded. "Him pinched-ed Daddy," she giggled, hands closing over her mouth for extra effect. Not paying attention to Pete behind her, she didn't notice his approach and squealed loudly when large fingers and thumbs 'pinched' their way along her ribs. "No, Daddy!" she laughed and tried to wriggle away. The moment she was free and at a safe distance however, she turned to challenge him. "Get me!" she cried and fled.
As Freddy and, eventually, Christina joined in with the tickle war, Helena and Myka got comfortable, both reaching to help themselves to food as they began to discuss plans for the following week.
After lunch, Pete and Lila wandered back to the hotel with Sophie and Fredrick so that the toddlers (and Lila) could have a nap before their next journey. Meanwhile, the Wells couple and Wells-Bering trio walked in a thoughtful sort of silence to pay their respects and say goodbye to the family they had left behind.
The graveyard was peaceful as they entered, with only one or two other visitors wandering between the headstones and laying flowers. Rupert and Eleanor led the way to where the Wells family had a small section of plots and – almost too soon – they were standing before Charles' grave - only, since he had become widely known for 'his' literary works, the name H.G. Wells was proudly displayed above his epitaph.
Not knowing quite how her wife would feel upon seeing her own name on her brother's grave, Myka squeezed the inventor's hand to let her know that she wasn't alone. Christina had moved in front of them with the bouquet she'd picked hanging in a limp hand. The American felt a pang of empathy deep in her chest and immediately reached out to offer the same comfort with a hand upon her daughter's shoulder. She wasn't sure how long they stood in silence, consumed by memories, before the eleven-year-old decided to voice the question that must have been plaguing her mind.
"Mum," she began in a hush. "Why does Uncle Charles have your name?"
"Charles and I collaborated for the stories he wrote." Helena answered robotically. "Since the name and his face became synonymous with each other, I suppose it would have raised too many questions to change his name after death."
Hearing and feeling the confliction of old wounds and grief in her wife's words, Myka reached around the inventor's waist to try to temper her pain. "It doesn't change who he was to you though, Christina." With one hand still resting on her daughter's shoulder, the brunette stroked a thumb in soothing circles and tried to help her understand with simple concepts. At some point in the future, they might be able to discuss life and death in more depth and explore the subject at a more philosophical level, but not today. "Think back. Try to find a memory that makes you feel connected with him."
While the girl followed the instructions and continued to gaze at the headstone, beside Myka, Helena struggled to keep her composure. Barely a day had passed where she didn't end up arguing with her brother yet he'd been her closest companion for many years. He'd happily hijacked her name and her ideas with very little thanks thrown her way but when it came to protecting her from their parents, particularly their mother, he'd done so with very little pomp and circumstance. Allowing his unwed sister and bastard niece to live with him must have raised more than just eyebrows amongst his 'friends' but he never once complained or criticised her for the way she lived. Any time he did mention it was out of concern for her wellbeing and she was ashamed that she was only just realising this.
She needed space - a minute to herself to gather the threads of her frayed emotions. With a quick kiss to Myka's cheek, she pulled out of the embrace and whispered a quick 'come and find me in a few minutes' before wandering off on her own.
With a destination pre-set in her mind, Helena barely thought about where her feet were taking her as she contemplated her turbulent relationship with her brother. If she'd taken the time to absorb her surroundings, she might have noticed more than one familiar name amongst the dearly departed but as it was, she bypassed old friends, lovers and rivals without a thought for their condition, until she came to the one grave she sought.
The headstone was less imposing than she'd imagined it would be and a stray thought wondered whether Charles had chosen it. She'd made so little time to learn about her family since arriving in the twenty-first century and now, every time something new came to light, a tiny part of her cringed to realise that she hadn't cared enough to find out for herself. She'd naturally assumed that her mother's grave would be beside her father's so when Eleanor had told her that Genevieve's will detailed her wish to be buried near her own parents, her mind had clambered for a reason.
Was it her fault for the emotional distance that built between her parents in their twilight years? They had never been effusive with their affections but had always appeared companionable and well suited in their life's goals. How much had they mourned her absence and how much had Charles had to endure the fallout? Had her mother rejoiced in her disappearance, glad to be rid of the child who constantly disappointed her; had she cursed Helena's name for creating chaos that not even the ever-resourceful Mrs George Wells could hide; had she actually felt sadness for the loss of her only daughter, despite their differences?
"I suppose I will never know what you thought of me in the end," the inventor uttered to the cold stone. She was aware of the presence of another close by so didn't flinch when arms wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her into a warm embrace. In spite of the muggy weather that had fallen on the land, her body shivered, which made her snuggle further into her wife.
"Since you have no way of knowing," Myka began softly, "it wouldn't hurt to imagine that her last thoughts were of a mother's love for her child."
"Her last words to me were: daughters never turn out the way you expect them to. Grieve and move on, Helena." HG's body stiffened with the memory and she had to take several deep breaths before she could shake the residual ire that came with it.
Myka took the pause as an opportunity to control her own spike of anger. "You can't know what she meant by that. It's clear that she had expectations for you but you could just as well say that she had accepted the fact that you are who you are. Move on might be what she was attempting to do."
"I called her every horrid thing I could think of," Helena spat. "How could she love me after that?"
"And how many times have Christina or Freddy been mean to you when they're upset? It hurts but you don't love them any less," the brunette pointed out firmly. "You were grieving for your child... Our child." She pushed her nose into raven hair and breathed in to calm her thoughts. Hands pushed under the hem of a shirt and splayed around a naval. "Harsh words are easy to find in the heat of the moment, your mother had to know that."
"I can't decide which is worse," Helena began to explain in a softer tone. "Thinking that they were able to move on with ease after my passing, or thinking that they suffered the same grief that I did after... Christina."
Knowing her wife's propensity for harbouring guilt, Myka took a moment to word her thoughts carefully. "Can you change it?" A soft 'no' met her ears. "Would you stay, if you could go back?" A firmer 'no' this time. "Then all you can really do is honour their memories and live the life you choose."
Myka wasn't sure how much her words had had an impact on the inventor's thoughts but the body in her arms did relax slightly and the echo of chaos she felt in her mind became less acute.
It was easy to think back and see Genevieve as the antagonist who had made Helena's early life unnecessarily difficult. She recalled the feel of that critical, calculating gaze on her the one time they'd met and wondered if Helena felt as she had with her father. Parental disapproval was unfair for any child do deal with when there was no clear reason, but Myka was well aware that she was the lucky one of the two of them. Since the incident with Poe's notebook and announcing her involvement with Helena, Warren had mellowed a lot and their relationship had taken a marked turn.
Helena would never know if she could have had the same progress with her mother. It would take time for the inventor to make sense of her feelings and in the meantime, all Myka could do was be patient and offer her support when it was needed. The sky above them darkened gradually as they continued to stand in silence, until HG whispered a single word.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Myka responded.
"My parents... Do you recall what Jason said when he was keeping an eye on our older Christina? He thought he heard her say 'Rick the cat'," she began to explain.
"... Yes," Myka answered as she wondered where the thought was going.
"Father wanted to call me 'Helena' but mother preferred 'Catherine'." Her hands joined her wife's over her belly and she looked down at their fingers twined together. "Needless to say, Father got his way, but perhaps..."
Myka smiled against the shell of an ear. "Cat," she whispered, tasting the name. "I like it. 'Catherine' will go well with Christina and Fredrick, if it's a girl, and it's a fitting tribute."
They stood for a minute longer, absorbing their decision, before the brunette suggested that they should get back to the others.
They returned hand in hand to relieved smiles and an anxious looking pre-teen. Helena immediately wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders and pulled her close.
"I'm sorry about that, love," HG kissed the girl's head. "I just needed a few minutes. Did you find a good memory?"
"There are so many," Christina answered after double checking that her mother was ok, "but my favourites were mostly when you were working out of town and he told me stories about when you were a little girl."
An elegant eyebrow rose in surprise. "Did he now? And why am I only just hearing about this?"
The girl smiled - her gaze introspective. "He said you would protest if you knew and he might have to tell boring stories instead. I don't think you'd have made him tell boring stories but I liked the stories about you the best."
The inventor couldn't help but smile at the compliment even as she knew that the girl's desire came from a place where she disliked being separated from her mother. "How often did I get into trouble in these stories?"
"All the time!" Christina giggled. "But you always fought to help Uncle Charlie and in the end, you would make everything square, and then you would tell him a story."
"His stories were about my stories?" HG asked in surprise.
"Did you really used to read to him all through the night?" the nine-year-old asked in amazement as she recalled more and more from those early days. "I think he was teasing."
"It was often by candle light but not all through the night. Exaggeration was one trait that we shared."
Helena gazed at the headstone with her own name reflected back at her and for the first time, felt connected to her brother rather than pushed aside. He'd found success at her expense but was it possible that all of their antagonism had hidden a grudging respect for each other? He had made the effort to put pen to paper and had given shape to her ideas after all. Perhaps his desire to do so was borne out of his memories of their childhood together. She reached to stroke a hand across Christina's cheek. "Keep those memories alive, my darling, and he will always be with you."
Christina closed her eyes, taking a moment to picture herself in bed, with her uncle on his chair and a candle beside him while he excitedly recounted her mother's dastardly deeds. "What are you going to remember, Mum?" she asked once she was satisfied that she had her thought committed to memory.
"I think I shall take a leaf from your book and remember the bedtime stories we shared," HG answered simply. In actual fact, the memory that appeared at the forefront of her mind in that moment was the day they'd spent together in Plymouth, after their grandparents had left for the New World.
She remembered the weight of melancholy that had settled in her stomach once the older couple were out of sight. It had been Charles and Christina's antics about the town that had lifted her spirits in the end and in hindsight, she realised just how much effort her brother had put into making sure that she had a good time. That day marked a significant point of negative feeling: the day she had lost the two people who had seemed to her like parents. Charles had understood more than anyone that her happiness depended heavily on Eleanor and Rupert's presence in her life. That consideration was something she wanted to hold onto.
After spending a little time with her grandfather and listening to tales of his youth, they said their final goodbyes and began the winding walk back to the hotel. Though they advanced in solemn silence for a time, they all felt as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Some days it felt as if they'd lived two lives, even for Myka – though her visit to the past had been short. Keeping the events of those lives separate when they were intricately connected was no mean feat but sometimes it was the only way any of them could accept the pieces that were forever gone.
Needing all the space they could get on the train, they settled into first class, their party occupying two booths on either side of the coach so they could easily share the experience of their hour and a half journey north.
Navigating unfamiliar places is tricky enough when one is travelling alone. Add luggage, children and crowds to the mix and you have a recipe for disaster. Christina had fortunately taken to heart her lessons and lectures about staying focused and not wandering off alone. She stayed close and kept a hawk's gaze on her brother, trusting that the adults could find their way out of the station.
Birmingham's New Street Station held very little resemblance to the place Rupert, Eleanor and Helena had known. Surrounded once more by shops, cafes and fast-food stops every which way they looked, the only visibly familiar aspects were the names of the street exits. Once out of the maze, they piled into two taxis, which took them on an unintentional scenic tour of the city before driving away from the centre to their next temporary lodgings.
There is a companion piece to go with this chapter but as it deals with a subject that some of you might find offensive, I've made sure to write so that you don't need to read the companion piece in order to follow the series. More details and warnings can be found in 'Conceiving Catherine'.