Fourteen

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Once John gotten his fill of skiing, Julie marched up to him and asked if he would like to build sandcastles with her. Bewildered, John passed a glance up at Gabby, only to find her smothering laughter behind her hand.

"Alright," John said, fixing Gabby with a quelling stare – that did not work – when Julie gripped his hand and pulled him to the sandy bank. Gabby watched them go, still muffling her delight and so proud of her god-daughter.

Later, when Paul started wrangling the barbeque gear and foisted his youngest child off on her, Gabby wandered down with a herd of children to the bank. It was cast into soft shadow now, but the sand was still warm. The children scattered, chasing each other, and Gabby hoisted Poppy higher in her hip when the toddler wriggled.

"Isn't that a marvellous castle," Gabby commented as she finally caught a glimpse of Julie and John's creation. It was big, and for more thoughtfully structured than anything a child could produce. There were battlements and moat.

"What's it called?" Gabby asked, taking a seat and gently moving Poppy into her lap. The toddler squealed in delight as her toes sank into the sand, stamping her feet while Gabby held her up.

"Fort Sparta!" Julie declared, and John looked inordinately proud of himself.

Gabby bit her tongue so as not to giggle.

"I'm gonna play tag with the others." Brushing sand from her hands, Julie gave one last satisfied look at her latest castle and ran off. "Bye, Mr John."

Once Julie was out of earshot, Gabby went, "Fort Sparta, huh?"

"It's a very good fort." The relaxed slant to John posture and the dry humour had her smiling. "Who is this?"

"Paul's youngest. Poppy."

John cocked his head to the side, cautiously wiggling a finger in hello when Poppy babbled at him. He seemed curious of the toddler, and held incredibly still when Poppy latched onto his finger. The sight made something in her ache. It was an old ache, one that grew as the years went on in the same, old, lonely cycle.

John was watching her, brows dipping into the suggestion of a frown. "Is something wrong?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You're sad," John quietly answered.

For a happy occasion she was sure talking about sadness a lot. Clearing her throat bought her a moment to pull herself together, so Gabby did. "It's nothing," she said, which was a lie. She could tell by the way John's face smoothed out that he wouldn't ask for more.

He had told her secrets though, even when he feared the worst kinds of judgement.

Gabby sighed, feeling old and thin and worn out.

"I've just," Gabby started, reservedly. She'd never shared this with anyone before. "I've always wanted a family. Poppy is just reminding me that I don't have one."

She wound her arms around Poppy, plucking her up and blowing a noisy kiss against her temple. Poppy giggled, pudgy arms flailing until Gabby set her down again. With wobbly steps, Poppy waddled towards John, and he snapped out a hand when she stumbled.

Gabby loved her family with everything she had, but she saw Poppy and Tui with her new baby boy and, in those moments, understood the saying love hurts. She wanted, and she pined, and she knew it was out of her reach.

"Hello," John murmured, one large hand supporting Poppy from behind, a beautiful kind of wonderment lighting his gaze. She wondered if he'd ever seen a baby before this.

Or, the morbid thought relentlessly came, if he'd ever seen one alive.

"Babbats an gaawabba," Poppy jabbered.

"Is that so?" John steered her around and guided her back towards Gabby. "Was there never the opportunity?"

Gabby propped her cheek in one hand, elbow braced against her knee, and rolled her other shoulder. "Suppose there was," she made a heavy, thoughtful noise in her throat. "The right opportunity though? No."

Some time ago, Gabby had resigned herself to being alone. Thoughts of adopting had crossed her mind, singing and plucking at her heartstrings, but Gabby had a farm to run. No matter how badly she wanted a child, she couldn't surrender her farm, her home, her animals. It wouldn't be fair to the kid to have so much of her attention elsewhere.

Not only that, but Gabby wanted a more than a child. A family was not always two parents and their children, yet Gabby had known the love of two parents and she dearly wanted that for any child she might raise.

A hand, heavy and warm, curled over her shoulder. A comfort freely given, and Gabby leaned into it as the afternoon passed in gentle silence.

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Dinner was cramped, elbows knocking together and knees bumping knees, and it was so like being in the mess, pressed shoulder to shoulder with his Spartans, that John found himself unbothered by the lack of space.

Afterwards, Rangi and Tui got a large fire going, and Brodes pulled a battered guitar from his truck and filled the night with throaty tunes. The kids roasted marshmallows and sang along to songs John didn't know.

It was nice.

"Hey," Gabby appeared at his elbow, a shawl over her shoulders now that the heat of the day was gone, "come for a walk?"

Wordlessly, John stood and joined her. Clear skies and a full moon left their path clear enough, and Gabby seemed to know the way as she led them away from the merriment. Deeper into the bush they went, side by side, until John could only hear the faint buzz of laughter and music.

Abruptly, the forest became an open field. It was bare, but for a grand willow that towered up high, arching in a gently curve towards the river.

On, Gabby led him. And on, John followed.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?"

"I did." Peering up, John watched the stars. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't see an endless space for enemies to hide. Just stars. "I really did."

"Good," Gabby hummed, dress fluttering around her knees as she climbed up the raised roots of the willow. Without the absurd footwear she called thongs, her feet were sure and confidant as she followed the rise and fall of the roots. "I think that Julie has made it her mission in life to make you smile."

Warmth spread through his chest, tucking up behind his ribs until he felt like more like a sun than a man. It was wonderful to see that there was still goodness in the universe, after everything.

Gabby's dress was white. It drank in the moonlight, almost glowing, and John suddenly couldn't grasp at how much she had done for him in a mere week. He had thanked her, so much, but it didn't feel like enough. It felt like it never would.

"Dollar for your thoughts?"

"Since when," John offered her a hand, and she took it, hopping from the root without care for grace, "have you needed me to say what I'm thinking, to know what I'm thinking?"

"True," Gabby did not let go of his hand, instead inspecting his palm, tracing the lines. Oddly, he didn't mind the touch. "I wanted to warn you. Paul and Brodes are going to set off some fireworks in a bit. Figured it mightn't be a pleasant surprise. And also…"

Trailing off, Gabby rounded the wide trunk of the tree, beckoning him to follow. On the other side, nestled at the base, was a small shrine. It was old, as were the words never forgotten carved into the bark above it. Memories were scattered on the ground, flowers, photos, small toys, and the wax of many melted candles.

"My parents were married here." From a sealed bag, carefully tucked between some roots, Gabby pulled a lighter and two small candles. Lighting one, she placed it on a metal plate that was already covered in wax and burn wicks. "Lots of people were. Then, it became a memorial, of sorts. Town didn't have the budget to build a proper one."

The flame flickered, small and bright. John wondered if anyone, anywhere, would think to light a candle for his Spartans.

When Gabby pushed the lighter and the second candle into his hands, John had his answer.

"I miss them. My parents," Gabby clarified, rocking back on her heels as the firelight swam in her eyes. His hands wanted to shake as he lit his own candle and set it beside hers. "They would have liked you."

"That so."

"Mm. You and Mum and Kirk, oh man, you guys would have had a ball. But Dad…Dad was quieter, would have preferred taking you all horse riding in the middle of nowhere. Lecture you about poetry, too."

Swallowing, John stood. There was an inch of space between them, and John closed it by pressing the length of his arm against Gabby's. She didn't look away from the candles, but she did smile.

"You and Sam would have gotten along. Kelly…wouldn't like you, but she would respect you. Fred and Linda would warm up, eventually."

There were others he could list, but his throat refused to let him. Rather than speaking, Gabby wound her arm through his and laid her head against his bicep.

"Is this okay?" she murmured, and it wasn't until he said yes that she let more of her weight sink against him. She was warm.

They stood there, watching the burning wicks, and John thought about those they would never see again. It should have been a heavy moment – he missed them, all of them, so deeply - but John felt light.

With a whistle and a crack, the firework show began. Colour bloomed against the sky, vivid and bright flowers twisting through the stars before fading into smoke. Neither of John or Gabby moved, perhaps rooted into place like the tree they treated as a memorial, but he felt Gabby tilt her head to watch the show.

Never forgotten. He traced the words with is eyes.

I won't, John promised, I won't ever forget.