With Rosie bundled up warm, Molly and John opened the door and pushed the stroller outside for their daily walk. A gust of wind blew Molly's hair up to swirl around her face. She brushed it back, taking off her scarf, and laying it over her head. Then she wrapped the ends around her neck and stuffed them into her coat collar.
"It's really windy," Molly said. "Maybe we shouldn't go out today."
"Nonsense!" John said with a grin. "Rosie will love it. She's never seen weather like this." He pushed ahead, walking in brisk, steady steps into the wind. Molly followed behind, looking down at Rosie with trepidation, but she seemed delighted. She stared at the leaves which flew past her like flocks of birds. They scraped across the pavement with a sound as heavy as a freight train.
The park was mostly abandoned. There were no other children, but there were a few other people there. A couple was walking their dogs. One man huddled under a tree attempting in vain to light a cigarette. John kept a steady pace walking a loop around the park. Rosie seemed to enjoy the speed, looking straight ahead wide-eyed, the blond wisps of her hair that had escaped her hood fluttering wildly about her face.
When they were just finishing their first loop, Molly felt a raindrop on her cheek. A few moments later, the rain came down, pelting their skin with cold drops sharp as needles. All around them, people picked up their pace, rushing for cover. John pushed the stroller under a covered bus stop that did little to block the rain drops which flew almost horizontally in the strong wind. He pulled up the roof of the stroller, and dug a blanket out of the bag tying it onto the stroller bars, and tucking it in on all sides to keep the rain away from little Rosie.
They turned toward home then, rushing down the pavement in the pounding rain. Molly had to shield her eyes from it. Once at the corner, John lifted the stroller up, carrying it across the street which was flowing like a stream. Molly hunched over, her hair escaping to whirl around her face like Medusa's snakes as the wind pushed her forward. Molly used her body to block the wind as John unlocked the door, and they burst into the house closing and locking the door behind them to prevent the wind from blowing it open again.
Molly shivered, shaking the wet hair out of her eyes. John laughed out loud.
"That was invigorating!" he said. He bent down and undid the blanket on the stroller. "So how are you, Rosie?"
A deep gurgling laugh came from her throat as John peeked in on her. She reached up to him, and he unfastened her, lifting her in his arms and spinning her around and around while the two of them laughed happily.
Molly rubbed her face to warm it before unwrapping her scarf and hanging it on the hook. Her hair was a mess, and her feet felt like she was still standing in a puddle of water.
"Why Molly! You're soaked. Why don't you go in the back and take a shower."
"But John… I don't have anything to change in to."
Mary's robe is hanging on the door. It's clean. I'm sure that I can find something else of hers for you to wear. Go ahead. The bathroom is right on the other side of the bedroom. If you'll put your clothes out in front of the door, I'll wash them for you. Can't have you catching a cold now, can we?"
"But..."
"That's an order."
Molly smiled. "You can't order me, John."
John sighed. "Shame, isn't it. I can't seem to order anyone about anymore. But you Rosie, you'll listen to me, won't you. Come on, private. It's bath and bed for you," he said as he carried the wet, giggling child out of the room.
Molly took off her coat, shoes and socks, and left them beside the door. Then hesitantly, she walked into John's bedroom. The room was fairly neat. It had a large bed and two bedside tables. One table held a clock, a book, and a pair of reading glasses. The other table was bare. In the corner sat a mirrored vanity with a small assortment of silver topped boxes and a brush which still held a few strands of blond hair. It was almost as if Mary would be back any moment.
The bathroom was much the same. The shelves were cluttered with cosmetics, and perfumes. There were even two toothbrushes hanging by the mirror. Mary's loss still felt fresh in this house. It was eerie to see her bathrobe hanging on the hook on the back of the door next to John's. Molly knew that it made no difference that the person who had owned these things was now dead, but she could feel goosebumps rise on her skin as she touched them. For the first time, she imagined feeling the eerie presence of a ghost.
She reentered the living room after a time wearing one of Mary's jogging suits. She was glad then that she carried extra underwear in her purse on the days of her period. Wearing Mary's would have been a step too far for her. Even so, she felt that spotting these clothes might bring on the wrath of Mary's ghost which seemed far too present in this house. It was as if she was standing just outside the room watching them.
John came in and said, "Rosie's in bed. I fed her and she went out like a light. Fancy some dinner. I don't claim to be a spectacular cook, but I'm open to requests."
"Actually, I do have one thing that I have been curious about. The 'thing with the peas' that Sherlock goes on about. Do you think you could make that?"
John laughed loudly. "It was only a casserole. I never knew that it would have such a large impression on him. But you're in luck. We have peas."
Molly watched John walking around the kitchen as he made the meal. He smiled, but there was a darkness behind his eyes, as if a storm was just under the surface. John had a way of looking so ordinary. When she had first met him, he had stood quietly in Sherlock's shadow. It had taken her months to remember his name. Now she didn't understand why she hadn't immediately seen the turmoil of emotions that seemed ready to burst out of him at any moment. Is this what Sherlock saw when he looked at John? Waves on a sea that at any moment could crash against the shore?
He made her a plate and they sat down to eat. The thing with peas was actually very good. Molly cleaned her plate. Afterward, John offered her a drink, and they sat on the couch in the living room holding warm brandies as they listened to the wind howling outside.
"You can stay over if you want," John said. "No need to brave that storm."
"It'll be fine. I'll call a taxi in a little bit, after my clothes are dry."
"You'll just have to dry them again once you get home."
"John."
"Yes."
"Why are you still living in this house?"
"What do you mean? I've lived here for a while now."
"But it's so large. There are just the two of you now." John turned his face away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive, but… do you plan to have more children?"
John stared over at the corner of the room, his face shadowed by the lamp light. "I have considered remarrying… for Rosie's sake. She deserves to have two parents."
"I don't think that you should marry just to find a babysitter."
"Well, I wasn't planning on marrying any time soon. It didn't work so well for me the last time."
The wind howled, and hail pelted the roof for a few seconds.
"Won't this wake Rosie?"
"Nah, she won't wake until she's hungry. She's got past the worst of her colic, thank goodness."
"Colic? There seems to be so much about babies that I don't know. I wonder if I am up to this."
"Don't let the work dissuade you. They really are worth the trouble. I don't think that I would have lived through this last year without Rosie around. It's impossible to think of yourself as unimportant when you know that there is someone in this world whose entire life depends on you."
"So, did you always want children, John?"
"Not at all. What about you?"
"I think so. Funny thing is, I recently found this box of writings that I made as a child. I'm learning a lot about what I used to dream about."
"Writings? I didn't know that you wrote, Molly."
"I don't anymore."
"What kind of things did you used to write? I'd like to know."
"Oh silly stuff. Dark towers, saving people from dragons, and that sort of thing. I imagined younger people following me around, but I don't know if that equates to wanting children. I suppose its more like having brothers and sisters. I don't have any siblings of my own, so I have no basis for comparison."
"Having a sibling isn't the same as having children. You're better off an only child." He took another sip of his brandy and then put the glass down. "I should be careful not to overdo this. Drinking too much is a bit of a family trait."
"I suppose that I should watch myself as well. The other night I was reading some poetry of mine, and I got positively pissed!"
"Poetry? So you write poetry as well?"
"Not anymore."
"Why not? Writing is an excellent way to work things out. I didn't think that I'd like it at first, but I really enjoy it now. What kind of poetry did you write, Love poems?"
"Goodness, no! I'd call it epic poetry if it was any good, but its not. It's awful!"
"So are my love poems. They're utterly awful but I can't help writing them. I guess I am a hopeless romantic at heart."
"I'm not," Molly said. "I never wrote a love poem in my life. I don't believe in destiny, soulmates, or any of that nonsense."
"Oh I do. That is I used to… when I was a kid. I loved watching romances, and I'd talk about finding the other half of my soul. I got teased mercilessly for it."
"So did you…"
"Did I what?"
"Ever find the other half of your soul?"
"I thought I had, a couple of times."
"Tell me, please."
John picked up the glass and took another sip before sitting back in his chair. "Well, okay. I was in medical school, just half a year away from graduating when I met this woman in a launderette. It was like the plot of some romantic comedy. She had left some of her clothes in the dryer I'd put my clothes in. We dug through our clothes together getting embarrassed at this and that piece of clothing. Then I said that since we had already seen each other's underthings, maybe we could go out for a spot of lunch." He smiled, his eyes warm in the soft light of the room. "We dated off and on for about three months and we really hit it off. We liked the same things. We agreed on almost everything. I was beginning to think that she was truly my soulmate."
"Then what happened?"
"I took her home to meet my family, and they loved her. On the day that I found out that I had passed my exams, I rushed over to her flat to celebrate, only to find her in bed having sex with my sister."
"Oh no!" Molly said covering her mouth. "What did you do?"
"I enlisted in the army."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. It worked out well for me in the end though. I found out that I had skills that I never knew about. My medical detachment had made me good in high pressure situations, and I learned that I have a real talent for marksmanship."
"What happened to your girlfriend?"
"Oh, Clara? She married my sister. They got divorced right before I was discharged."
"Oh how sad, your soulmate."
"She wasn't my soulmate. She forgot me easily enough. Besides, I got over those stupid romantic notions in the army. Once I stopped holding everything up to that bar of perfection, I realized that there are matches to be found in every store, and at virtually every street corner. You just find someone moderately nice and moderately pretty who you can tolerate and the possibilities open wide."
"But you said that you thought you'd found your soulmate a couple of times. Who was it? Mary?"
"Oh heaven's no! But Mary was very nice when I needed someone to be nice to me."
"Then who...?"
"Soulmates don't exist, Molly. They were just a stupid thing I believed in as a kid."
"I know, but hearing you say that you don't believe in them makes me feel sad."
"If I were to be brutally honest, it makes me feel sad too."
John downed his drink, and rose to his feet. "I'll go check on your clothes," he said walking into the hall and leaving Molly alone.