Not the penultimate chapter; there's one more, I believe. AND an epilogue. :) And as ever, thanks so much for reading. I also hope to post the conclusion within the week.

xo

-20-

Ruth, not surprisingly, was right. Catherine called. And had done so, as Ruth had also predicted, soon after she and Harry had left the Grid. According to Catherine, Graham was indeed home and now resting.

"Perhaps," Ruth says minutes later, to a visibly relieved Harry sitting across from her at a local pub, "you could take her out for dinner. Then stop over to see Graham with her as well. "

"That's an idea," he says. "A good one, in fact." And he smiles at her, reaching up and touching his pocket with the mobile. "I'll call her back in a bit."

"And at dinner, you can also discuss with her about telling Graham. You know," she says, picking up her glass of water and taking a delicate sip, "about Jane."

"Ah," he says.

Setting the glass down carefully, she says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I only thought that—"

"Ruth. Please. Stop."

Her face flushes suddenly, and she begins to speak, her words tripping over one another. "I will. I'm sorry. Truly. I —"

"—No. no. You misunderstand me," he says almost as quickly, reaching across the small table, and giving her hand a quick pat. "You're not intruding." And he shakes his head. "Don't you know by now anything you have to say about them, I welcome?" He leans in a bit, dropping his voice. "Really. You should know that by now, " he says, a gentle smile on his face.

Taking a tremulous breath, she nods, managing a smile. "I'm...glad. It's just that...well, they're not my children. And I don't want you to think that I'm-"

"What?" he asks, still smiling, "taking an interest?"

"It's a fine line, Harry," she says. "But yes, whatever interests you, interests me, of course."

"That's encouraging," he says, still smiling.

"Still," she goes on, 'it's s not really my place. I —"

"Ruth." And he shakes his head.

"I-"

He holds his hand up, effectively silencing her. She nods then, her face still a bit pink.

"On the contrary," he says firmly, "it is your place. I…" he begins, his glance taking in the half-filled pub. "You know how I feel about you. And if you hadn't been there…from…well...the start...I don't know how I …" And he shakes his head again.

"You would have managed. I'm quite sure of that."

"I'm glad you are even if I'm not. Still, you know how much I value your opinion. Your analytical skills. Your-"

"You're talking about work, Harry."

Again he shakes his head, this time vehemently. "On the contrary. I'm talking about you. All of you."

"I'm...glad. I am." But I just don't want to interfere."

"For God's sakes, woman. What do I have to do to convince you?" And not giving a damn who's listening or watching, he talks her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kisses it. Then holds onto it for dear life.

Her dimples flash, and she holds fast to his hand as well.

"The way you see things," he goes on. "The depth of your feelings. Your passion. Your...heart."

"I'm glad you feel that way," she says again, her dimples now out in full force.

"Then believe me," he says earnestly, her hand still in his. "Believe me when I tell you …..How much …" He shakes his head, but he's smiling. "Do I need to say it?"

"No. But you can remind me. Later," she adds, softly. "But not in so many words, that is." And she squeezes his hand a bit.

"I'll do my best," he says, sotto voce, squeezing it back. Then saying nothing else, he just stares across at her, with a hint of a smile, his gaze telling her everything she needs to know.

She blushes. Again.

"I shouldn't be surprised," he says to her in way of greeting, hours later at her place.

"About what?" she asks, ushering him in, and taking note at his pleased expression.

"That you were right. As usual."

"About?"

"About taking her out to dinner. Talking to her."

"It went well, then?"

"Better than I had hoped for, actually."

"Really?" she asks, reaching up, stroking his velvet collar.

He stays her hand, kissing it like he had hours ago in the pub. Then leans in and kisses her on the lips. "Yes," he says, before kissing her again, his arms now going around her.

"Tell me," she says, her arms slipping around him as well.

"Well," he says, reluctantly stepping back a bit. "Productive meeting with Catie. And great meeting with Graham."

"I'm so glad. What happened?" And she gestures towards the kitchen before heading there.

"He's happy to be home," he says, slipping of his coat. "He's pensive, though," he adds, joining her a minute later. "Taking over my old office. You know. To sleep." And his own expression turns pensive as well.

"It's just temporary," she says, touching his arm before stepping past him for the kettle.

He nods. "Yes, I know. He's negotiating steps in therapy. And making real progress on that as well."

She nods back, smiling. "And your conversation with Catherine?"She reaches above for the mugs hanging on their hooks, but he beats her to it, and grabbing them, sets them on the table.

"She agrees. With me. She knows Graham has to be told. But she wants to speak with her mother first." He pauses then adds, "I agreed. But I'm still not sure if that's the best way to handle it. But Catie …"and he shrugs.

"I'm so glad that progress is being made on that account as well."

"Because of you."

"Nonsense, "she says, setting spoons next to the mugs.

"I would still be at a loss how to broach it, if at all, with her."

"I'm just glad she agrees with you."

"Yes. But…." He stands there and begins to rub his chin, a faraway look in his eyes.

"I know. It's worrisome. But I really believe it will work out."

His eyes focus upon her again. "What else do you see in that crystal ball of yours, Ruth?"

"I see a man whom I love."

"Ah. I like what you see." And he moves in closer. "Anything else?"

Eyes sparkling, her arms go around him. "No crystal ball needed, my love." She says, just before kissing him.

He leans in, wrapping his muscular arms around her, kissing her back. Then begins to nuzzle her neck.

Minutes later, the kettle clicks off...

...forgotten.