It is lunchtime the next day when Ruth slowly eases her car into the driveway of the cottage at Bude. She had been too tired to drive all the way to Bude in one afternoon, so had spent the night in a hotel in North Bristol, ringing Harry just before dinner time, and feeling bad when she heard the disappointment in his voice.
"I'll be there tomorrow," she'd said. "That's definite."
"When?"
"Probably just before lunch - late morning, maybe. I'm tired, Harry. I need to rest."
"Sorry, Ruth. It's just that I'm so looking forward to -"
"I know. I know."
Once the call ended, Ruth had felt bad, but it couldn't be helped. Better she rest than risk causing a pileup on the M5. Besides, she'd wanted to take her time driving through Exeter. She'd planned to drive past her family home, the one where she and her mother and father had lived, before her father had died. She needed to allow time for that.
Harry's new car – a silver Peugot – sits under the carport. That tells Ruth that Harry is home. She could announce herself, by sounding her car's horn. She could slam the door and call out, or she could just walk quietly around the back of the house, and surprise him.
She chooses to surprise him.
She hears him before she sees him. Even before she reaches the back of the house, she recognises the clunk of a hammer on wood. She waits just by the corner of the house, while she watches the muscles in Harry's back and shoulders strain with holding the length of wood steady, while he hammers a nail through the crossbeam, and into the upright. An electric drill lies on a chair beside him. Harry is building a pergola over the terrace.
Ruth smiles. Suddenly, the last almost twelve weeks away from him are erased. They no longer exist, other than as a rather painful memory.
Harry takes another nail from his pocket, carefully places it, and continues hammering. Ruth remains statue still, watching how his body moves as he performs this unfamiliar task – to her eyes, at least. She can see by the way he directs the hammer cleanly on to the nail, that he is familiar with DIY. Suddenly, he stops hammering, and stands very still, as though listening for a sound from behind him. Ruth is absolutely silent, so she knows that Harry can feel her presence. That is how things have always been between them. There is an electric current which joins them, so that when one of them is close by, the other can sense their presence.
Ruth is about to call out to him, when he turns. They stand where they are – she beside the corner of the house, with Harry ten yards away, on the far edge of the terrace, a hammer still in his right hand. The longest of moments passes as they each watch the other.
Afterwards, neither would be able to say who had moved first. Harry speaks first …... just Ruth's name, and nothing else. Then they each slowly move towards the other, and at the last moment, Ruth runs to him, and into his arms. The hammer clatters on the slate surface of the terrace, as he realises that were he to hug her properly, he'd need both arms. Kissing, speaking, silent touching will have to wait. They hold on to one another for the longest time.
"Come inside," he says, pulling away just a little, to give Ruth some breathing space. "I'd like to show you around."
He grasps her hand, and pulls her through the back door, now a series of sliding glass doors. "To let the light in," Harry explains. His excitement is infectious, and she smiles up at him each time they enter a new room. All rooms have been painted, but so far, the only room which seems finished and furnished is the kitchen.
"I haven't had time to furnish it yet," he explains, "other than our bedroom, because that's the most important room in the house."
"Here it is," he says. They have climbed the stairs, and are standing just inside the door to their bedroom. "What do you think?"
Ruth gazes around the space. Behind her is clearly the bathroom, and off to the side is a small bedroom. In front of her, directly under the roof ridge, their bed takes pride of place. Harry has already bought their bedding – white sheets and pillowcases, and the bed is covered by a large, plush, patchwork eiderdown. Ruth steps closer, and touches the eiderdown, and then she sits on the edge of the bed, and eventually lies along one side – the side closest the window which overlooks the sea – and rests her head on the pillow.
"Do you like it?" Harry asks, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed.
Ruth nods, and pats the bed beside her. "Lie down next to me," she says, smiling into his eyes.
Harry lies down, and the turns towards her, and for the first time in almost 12 weeks, they kiss. The kiss is one of longing, but the passion is held in check, while they run their hands over the arms and shoulders of the other. Once they pull apart, Harry's hands remain on her hips, while Ruth frames his face between her hands.
"I have missed this so much," he whispers.
"Do you mind terribly if we don't …... have sex …... today? I've been feeling …... a bit off."
Harry leans away from her, to get a clearer view of her face. He had been looking forward to their reunion, and yes, he had been looking forward to the sex. He had been counting the hours.
"Is something wrong, Ruth? Tell me."
"You know how I've been rather emotional …... I've also been tired, and I've needed more sleep than usual."
"Ruth – are you sick? Is something wrong."
"What?"
"Tell me what it is. I need to know."
She reads the desperation in his voice, and shakes her head. "It's not …... anything bad. I think that Catherine believed I was pregnant," she says, shaking her head.
"And you're not?"
"No, of course not. The doctor said that living through the trauma …... from your supposed death, can put a strain on the body's systems. I couldn't tell her about the kidnapping, which I suspect is the real culprit. She also suspects I'm iron deficient, so I began taking supplements once I got to Paris."
"But you'll be alright."
"Now I'm out of the madhouse which the Grid has become under Gareth Stonehouse, yes …... I think so. I'm so glad to be home at last, Harry."
"And I'm thrilled to have you home."
After dinner, they head to bed early. While Harry is in the shower, Ruth checks out the small bedroom off their own bedroom. The floor space is minimal, but the ceiling is sloped, following the line of the roof, giving the room a spacious feel. She wanders around inside the space, imagining what they might do with it. For some reason, she can't let go of the idea that this needs to be a child's room.
She feels Harry standing behind her. His body is warm from the shower, he tucks his arms around her waist, and pulls her against him. "What do you think we should do with this room, Ruth?"
Ruth leans her head back against his shoulder, and rests her hands on his own hands. "The idea won't leave me that this is meant to be a child's room. I suppose you'll want it to be your study."
"I'm planning to set up the small bedroom off the living room as the study. We can share that, if you like."
"Alright. So, what do we do with this room?"
"What would you like to do with it?" he asks quietly, barely able to breathe.
"Harry ….." Ruth turns in his arms to gain eye contact. "We've not even talked about this. Neither of us is exactly young, and we're talking about bringing a new life into this crazy world."
"Is that what we're talking about, Ruth?"
"I don't know. I never imagined you'd want more children. You've already had your children, and -"
"I barely saw them while they were growing up. Even now, I barely know them. I'm not against the idea. It's just that you'll be the one …..."
"Pushing it out of my body, and getting up at all hours of the night."
"Yes. You'd be the one doing most of the work ….. at least, during the baby stage."
Ruth turns from him, and pulls out of his arms, heading through the doorway, and towards their bed. She had showered and changed straight after dinner, so she climbs under the patchwork quilt, and snuggles down, turning on her side to face Harry, as he joins her in bed.
"I need time," she says, "to think about this. It's a big step …... for us both. And …... we've barely been together as a couple for more than a few months, and here we are …... Harry, put like that, the idea of us having a child together is madness."
"I'll accept your decision, Ruth, whatever it is."
And they slide closer, until his arm reaches around her shoulders, and she can almost encircle his waist with her own arms. They lie that way for a long time, neither able to sleep, their sleeping alone having again become the norm.
"You know I never planned to fall in love with you, Ruth," he says into the dark, his mellow voice seeping into the silence.
"No-one ever plans it."
"I tried hard not to, and after you came back from Cyprus, and …... after everything else that happened, I actively resisted being alone with you. I tried so hard, but ….."
"It is what it is, Harry. We've always been drawn towards one another. We can't help what we are …... to each other. Perhaps we're meant to be …. like this. Perhaps we're meant to have ….. what it is we have."
"I hope you're right."
They begin to slowly sink into the mattress as sleep beckons …... and then Ruth again speaks. "You're used to being a powerful man, Harry. Your word, your presence was revered and feared by ... so many. I'm afraid that you'll …... miss that."
Ruth is sure he has fallen asleep, so long does he take to answer. When he does, she knows he has used the time to choose the right words.
"Power has it's dark side, Ruth. It's like a drug. Were I to choose between being powerful, and being loved, I'd choose to love and be loved every time."
Ruth's heart is overflowing. She turns to face him, and in his eyes she can see that he means every word.
A/N: This is the end of the story, but a (completely unnecessary and OTT) epilogue follows this.