I couldn't leave Cat and Roger in limbo like that for long. Roger's really hard to write at the moment - not sure why. Will keep trying.


Trying to appear cheerful was exhausting. It was an unspoken agreement between Roger and me that we'd do our best not to spoil Mark and Stacey's first Thanksgiving as parents. Both of them had deliberately evaded their families' many invitations in order to share the holiday with us; the least we owed them was a few faux-enthusiastic grins and laughs. Rose's presence was a blessing and a curse and on more than one occasion I had to excuse myself to hide the tears threatening to escape. Roger's smoking habit, which had been waning somewhat, kicked into another gear. Between my tears and his cigarettes, we weren't in the same room together very often.

Our acting was poor, Roger exclaiming excitedly over things in a way he never did even when he was happy, and me managing very few words over the course of the day. We wouldn't have fooled even Stacey, and for Mark it was all too clear that there was something wrong. Rose came into her own then, giving both of them something else to focus on other than their friends' obvious pain, and I was grateful for her. All too often, though, the baby was asleep, and it was then that Mark shot both of us anxious glances. My first Thanksgiving was an entirely unsuccessful one.

It was with some relief that we got into the car to drive up to Red Hook the day after Thanksgiving. Worn out from our efforts the previous day, we travelled in silence, accompanied only by an old-school rock radio station. The motion of the car lulled me to sleep for a short distance and I found some comfort in the oblivion of unconsciousness. I was almost disappointed that I had to wake up.

Lyn's joy at seeing us again tided us over for the first few hours of our visit. When her conversation dried up and, for the first time, she looked between the two of us and instinctively sensed something was wrong, I complained of a migraine and went to bed. Rude as I knew I was being, I lingered there all afternoon and was asleep before Roger joined me.

The next morning I woke and dressed alone, shrugging into the jumper and jeans I'd deliberately brought with me on this trip. This time, I was prepared for the New York weather and for life out on the Davis family farm: no slinky little velvet dresses on this visit. No amount of sartorial preparation had made me ready for what had happened so far. Roger's absence this morning was nothing unusual in the grand scheme of things, but set against our talk three nights ago, it seemed to mean more. It certainly wasn't helping me to feel any better.

The house was empty when I made it downstairs. Unwilling to help myself to anything in the kitchen, I instead drifted outside onto the back porch. It was a beautiful day so far, one of those golden autumnal days where the sun shines through the trees and reminds you that it isn't quite winter yet: there is still hope. The sounds of the farm surrounded me and I could hear the sheep bleating just out of sight. It sounded very much like they weren't enjoying whatever was happening to them. I could sympathise.

I didn't feel any better this morning than I had done the day before or the day before that. The choice Roger had dangled in front of me loomed large, an insurmountable obstacle that I wished I could avoid. Two days ago, being with Roger had seemed to be everything. I hadn't even considered it ever ending. But his words had put the idea there, offering me two diverging paths which would never meet again. The leaden weight in my stomach increased as I wondered if I was actually considering walking away.

'Tea?' I jumped as Lyn appeared beside me. 'Oh sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump.' She held the mug in her hand out as a peace offering. 'Thought you looked like you could use a cup.'

'Thank you.' I accepted it with a smile.

'Feeling better?'

I turned away, unwilling to lie to Roger's mother's face. 'Yes, thank you.' I willed her to go back inside and leave me alone to my brooding. Making conversation just wasn't something I was capable of right now.

'They're moving the sheep from the bottom pasture for the winter,' she said, apparently immune to my psychic urges. 'I think Michael's been waiting for Roger to come home and help him. Not that he'd ever say that of course.' She laughed and rolled her eyes at me, a shared joke of what Davis men were like. I managed a weak smile.

'He's spent the morning agonising over that horse of his,' Lyn continued. 'We should never have bought her, she's been a disaster from start to finish. Now, here we are, she's coming up to twenty, and she's hardly been ridden in her life. I can't think who he's going to sell her to.'

'He's selling her?' I broke in suddenly. This was something new and it hurt an unreasonable amount that he hadn't even mentioned it to me. Had we already gone that far? 'Why?'

'Who knows?' Lyn shook her head. 'I mean, she is expensive to have here doing nothing, but that's nothing we haven't dealt with for the last fourteen years: I don't know why now is any different.' She gave me a brief sidelong glance. 'I did suggest you take her back home with you next week, but he was a bit hesitant about that.'

I looked away again. 'I'm not sure how easy it is to ship horses abroad,' I replied, avoiding the real issue.

Lyn continued to look at me before following my gaze as the flock of sheep crested the hill. 'No, I suppose that is something we'd have to look into. It was just a thought. Between you and me, I quite like having her around. It's nice not to be the only woman.' She took a sip of her coffee and I wondered if she'd finished and would go inside now. 'So how was your first Thanksgiving?'

'Lovely thank you,' I replied hastily, choosing not to even think about it.

'And how is Mark and… Stacey, is it? And the baby?' Lyn gave a small laugh. 'All these years and I've never even met Mark, you know, just spoken to him on the phone. He seems nice though.'

'He is. He's… great.' I nodded.

'And the baby?'

I gripped the mug of tea harder and took a moment before replying as honestly as I possibly could. 'She's gorgeous.'

The sheep flooded down the hill, two dogs circling around them, responding to the piercing whistles we could hear even at this distance. Two figures walked behind them, one signalling to the dogs and the other with their hands buried in their jeans' pockets. I knew that walk as well as I knew his voice and his laugh and the way his eyes darkened when he turned to me first thing in the morning. He was the most familiar thing in my life.

'He's really worried about you.' I looked at Lyn abruptly and she sighed heavily. 'And I promised him I wouldn't say anything, I said I wouldn't get involved. But, Cat, honey, he's been worried about you for months.'

I wrapped my arms around myself. 'How much has he told you?'

'Most things.' She smiled a little apologetically. 'We stayed up a long time last night.'

I nodded slowly. Part of me was strangely pleased. Roger didn't do sharing; if he'd been talking to his parents, even about me, he was making progress. I just wished he'd been sharing more of this with me.

'You know, Michael and I wanted more children,' Lyn said now. 'This house was built for more than three of us. But it didn't happen and-'

I held up a hand, interrupting in a way which was most unlike me. 'Sorry, I just… I can't listen to this.' I felt my face burn red in embarrassment at having behaved so rudely. 'I'm sorry, Lyn, I didn't mean to…'

'No, you're right.' Lyn shook her head. 'I have no idea what you're feeling right now, Cat. No idea at all. I shouldn't try to pretend to. But will you just listen to one thing?' She waited patiently and finally I nodded. It crossed my mind that walking away from Roger also meant walking away from Lyn, and that hurt almost as much. 'It took a long time for us to have Roger. And I love him desperately, he's the most wonderful thing I've ever done. But it hasn't ever been easy with him. This,' she gestured up the hill to where father and son walked side by side, 'I couldn't have imagined this before. He was always so keen to escape from here. Six years we went with barely a phone call from him. Six years. It was agony. And you know who was always here? Michael. Without him…' She tailed off and shook her head, as though she could never begin to explain that. Hastily, she added, 'I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Cat. I'd never do that. You'd make a wonderful mother.' As the tears spilled over again, she put an arm around me, holding me tight. 'And I think it's so unfair. Cruel and hard and unfair. But it isn't everything, my love. There are other ways. I just… I don't want you or Roger to regret anything. Not anymore. You understand?'

And I did somehow. Nodding, I leaned in closer to her, remembering how her previous words of wisdom had, in their own way, come true. I could have resented her obvious plea on behalf of her own son; no matter how hard she tried, of course she was always going to be on his team. But even the thought of us being on opposing teams brought fresh tears to my eyes. Lyn and I were joined for life by the sheer fact that we both loved Roger. I had to at least listen to her advice.

Some time after I'd stopped crying, Lyn gave me one final squeeze before taking her arm away. When she spoke, her voice was more upbeat than it had been before. 'I'm doing soup for lunch, is that alright?' The change of subject was unexpected and it took me a second to adjust. Before I could reply, she said a little louder. 'Soup alright, Roger?'

I turned to see him just walking through the small vegetable patch at the back of the house. Lyn's faux-joviality seemed to be catching as he replied, 'Sounds good to me.' Lyn went back inside the house as he climbed the three steps up onto the back porch and came face to face with me. The falseness in his voice vanished as he took a preparatory deep breath before saying, 'Hey. You… okay?'

It was the question he'd been asking me all year and I'd been answering entirely untruthfully. Now I considered my words carefully, worn out from the crying and anxiety. Lying would have been easier in the short term, but that wasn't an option anymore. The short term wasn't enough. So I answered honestly. 'No. Not really.' Roger nodded thoughtfully and I could already see his mind working overtime, wondering how he could make it okay, as if it was his job to do that. Making him feel inadequate was a fresh pain. 'But I will be. At least… I want to be.'

He regarded me carefully for a few moments. 'Do you want to go for a walk after lunch?'

I didn't need to think for very long. 'I'd really like that.'


'I thought we were going for a walk.'

'We are.' Roger caught my doubtful look over his shoulder at the horse he was leading. 'Delilah's coming with us.'

'She's not a dog.'

Roger grinned, presumably at my apprehension at having the huge animal accompany us. 'You noticed?' By way of explanation he added, 'I'm turning her out for a bit of a run around. Old girl needs to stretch her legs. You can say hello you know.'

'Hello,' I said monotonously.

'Or… pat her?' His eyes sparkled mischievously. 'Oh come on, Cat, she won't bite!'

'Really? I'm fine from here, thank you.'

Roger seemed to decide that he was wasting his breath and energy on this particular cause as we began walking up the slope away from the house and barn. I kept a safe distance away from Delilah's clomping hooves and swishing tail. She at least seemed eager to be heading outside today and we travelled at quite a pace. It just about all I could do to keep up with the two of them, and certainly negated any attempts at conversation. I could at least thank the horse for that.

Once we'd reached the paddock, Roger let the mare go and, with one shake of her head as if to make sure she really was free, Delilah trotted as far away from us as possible. Roger remained standing with his back to me, gathering the head collar and lead rope together. It was clear that it was up to me to begin this.

'Your mum said you were thinking of selling her. Delilah, I mean,' I clarified, a nervous laugh escaping. 'Not your mum.'

He flashed me a smile over his shoulder before turning back to watch as his horse threw a few cheerful bucks in before settling down to grazing. 'Yeah, I was giving it some thought.'

'You didn't say.' I tried to avoid sounding too accusatory.

'It didn't seem important.' He glanced at me again. 'Sorry, it wasn't deliberate.'

'It's alright. It's just your mum didn't know why you'd suddenly decided to sell.'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. Seems the thing to do. It's not much of a life for the old girl, is it? She deserves something a bit better.'

I nodded towards where she was peacefully munching away on the grass now. 'She looks like she likes it here well enough.'

'Yeah. I guess.' Finally, he turned to look at me properly. His eyes fell on me with such kindness and concern that my only response was a wobbly smile. 'You look really tired. I'm sorry.'

'Will you stop saying that?' I said, venturing a few steps closer to him. 'It's… not your fault. Not really.'

There was a long pause and then there was a subtle-Davis conversation changer. 'You and Mom seemed to be having a long chat this morning.'

I looked down. 'Sort of. I really like her.'

'She really likes you.' He smiled. 'Like, a ridiculous amount. Almost bit my head off last night when I said…' He sighed, the smile vanishing. 'When I said I'd given you a choice.'

'She said you weren't very enthusiastic when she suggested you take Delilah back to England with you. You… you didn't think you were coming back with me, did you?'

He half-shrugged and then finally shook his head. 'No.'

My heart broke at his simple acceptance of his place in life, as though that choice had always been the logical one. Perhaps it was. Still, being logical had never been our forte.

'I asked Mom not to say anything.'

'I know. She tried not to.' I gave a wobbly smile. 'Obviously you didn't get your chatty genes from her.'

'What else did she say?'

I thought back over the talk we'd had that morning, how what Lyn had said had shifted everything ever so slightly. It hadn't exactly made this decision easier; it hadn't suddenly flicked a switch in my brain. But it had cleared away some of the fog and offered me something else: hope. Yet there was really only one thing which had stood out.

'She said I'd make a wonderful mother.' A sob followed my words which brought Roger the last few steps towards me, his hands falling onto my shoulders with a reassuring weight.

'Of course you would. You'd be… amazing.' His face contorted in pain. 'Oh Cat, are you sure? I'm not going to change my mind you know?' We both gave rueful smiles, his stubborn nature as engrained a part of our lives as his self-doubt. 'I know, I know, when do I ever change my mind? I just… this is huge, Cat. I don't want you to regret it.' Hooking a piece of hair behind my ear, he added, 'I don't want you to end up hating me.'

'That is never going to happen,' I assured him, never more certain in my life. After everything we'd been through together, everything he'd done to me since we'd first set eyes on each other last July, hatred had never crossed my mind. 'I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I'm not going to get over it overnight.' He winced as I unwittingly quoted his ill-chosen words of a few days ago. 'But if it's a choice between you and someone else's children… Roger, that isn't a choice anymore.'

He rested his forehead against mine, and I felt the tension of the last few days drain out of both of us. I was tired, he hadn't been wrong about that, and I suspected that he wasn't feeling much better. We'd looked forward to this trip for so long, we'd worked so hard; I hoped that it would improve from here on in and we'd have some cheerful memories to take home with us. Right now, I wasn't quite sure how I'd respond to the inevitable 'How was your holiday?' from Declan or Meg. The truth so far wasn't really water cooler conversation.

'I love you,' he said eventually, his voice little louder than a whisper.

'I know.' I suppressed my smile as he continued to stare into my eyes before I finally stopped holding out on him and said, 'I love you too.'

'Marry me.'

I stopped breathing. So did Roger, whose eyes widened whilst his head remained against mine, almost as if he was wondering if he'd really said that out loud. It had taken my by surprise; it seemed to have crept up on him too.

'Wh-what?' I stammered out.

'Shit.' Roger pulled away from me, his hand over his mouth. 'Oh shit. I didn't mean to say that.'

'Oh. Right.'

'Not that I didn't mean it. I mean… Oh shit.' Running his hands through his hair, Roger continued babbling and I tried to keep up, still hearing those words in my head: Marry me. 'I didn't mean to say it like that, I've been thinking and planning and I've almost done it on a couple of occasions – like your birthday, remember your birthday? Then I thought maybe this trip we could go to the Empire State Building, join that whole clichéd bunch of people but I guess, at least I'm hoping, you'd hate that, because I would. And then it's all got weird anyway and I could have waited but…' He pulled a face again. 'I'm making a mess of this, aren't I? Shit.'

I smiled then, as I always smiled at Roger's moments of Lost Boy awkwardness. The anguish of his error was written all over his face and I loved him all the more for it.

He gave a wry grin and sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he fumbled in his pocket. 'I've been carrying the ring around for weeks.'

He tossed a box towards me which I fumbled and dropped. My eyes still locked on his, I bent down and picked it up. It was nothing fancy; in fact, it was sort of shabby looking, a small square box with worn black velvet on it. It had definitely seen better days. Still, I opened it.

Nestled inside was a ring. That was all that struck me at first, despite his explanation before he'd thrown it to me. I gave a sharp intake of breath and put a hand over my mouth as I continued to study it. The centre stone was a pale pink, almost colourless in some lights, and square-cut. Around it were clusters of small diamond-looking stones, although I couldn't help thinking that that many diamonds would have cost a fortune. They continued in clusters of three around the band as far as I could see. It was beautiful, full of understated, old-time glamour. The band itself was ever so slightly tarnished, as though it had seen much use already in its life. I loved it instantly.

'It was my grandmother's,' Roger said now, stepping closer again, his shadow falling over the ring. 'My dad's mom. It's rose quartz in the centre, and crystals around it. They're supposed to be lucky, you see, and… well, I figured we could always use some luck. You hate it don't you?' he said now hastily. 'It's not diamonds, I know, I'm sorry, we can get another one, you can choose it, you-'

'Shut up.' He looked genuinely stunned at my rudeness and I gave a small laugh, pleased I could still surprise him. 'Honestly, Rog, just… shush. I love it. It's… breathtaking.' Looking up from the ring again, I asked, 'Are you really asking me to marry you?'

'Yes.'

'But… you've never once mentioned it before, you've never shown any interest…' I shook my head, baffled by his sudden decision. It wasn't that we'd talked about marriage before; we hadn't. In truth, I'd barely noticed that we'd never once mentioned the M-word, something I knew that my old acquaintances back in London would never have understood. It seemed that the last few years had been filled with people I knew meeting somebody and getting engaged, as though the ring on the finger was everything. I'd fallen for the hype myself, accepting Sam's proposal without thinking, because it was what you did when you were in your twenties. Weddings were the standard social events of each summer and marriage seemed to be another designer label that you just had to have if you wanted to remain mingling in the same social circles. Yet with Roger, I'd accepted our future together as it was, without the merest suggestion that we'd ever pin it down to a piece of paper. Somehow, I'd thought Roger was, if not anti-marriage, at least ambivalent to it. It seemed to fit with his general attitude towards life.

But now here he was, offering me a family heirloom. The impulsivity of it was Roger to a T – yet this didn't sound completely spur of the moment. I've been carrying the ring around for weeks.

'When did you get this?' I gestured to the ring.

'Last Christmas.'

'What?' My jaw dropped. 'But we'd only just… how…?'

'My dad gave it to me. Said Granny had left it to me in her will. Said it was the first time he'd trusted me with it. He always thought I'd do something stupid with it before now. Before you.'

'I didn't know your dad even liked me!'

'He's a Davis. Of course he likes you, we have impeccable taste.'

Ignoring his flippant tone, I pressed on. 'You've had this ring for nearly a year?'

'Yeah.'

'I didn't know.'

'That was sort of the point.'

'So why…?'

'Why now? Why not?' He gave up his false carefree attitude as soon as I raised my eyebrows. Forced to explain properly, he went about it with the usual Roger-shrug. 'I've been thinking about it for a while. Ever since you said Sam got engaged.'

'Sam?' I spat the name out. 'This is all about Sam?'

'No! I'm not saying that. This isn't some macho competition thing. It's about you. You think getting engaged is important.'

'I've never said that!'

'You didn't have to. Just like you didn't have to say you wanted children. Hey.' He lifted my chin up as I dropped my gaze, trying to avoid the tears rising up in my eyes again and completely failing at his next words. 'I can't give you the children. I'm not even sure I'll make a brilliant husband. But I can give you this. And… I can try. If you want me to, that is?'

It wasn't the most conventional proposal in the world. I knew that the story of our engagement would never interest many people, the two of us standing in a field dressed in jeans and jumpers. There was nothing romantic or fairytale or sexy about this. But it was real and it was Roger and that meant so much more. My throat choked with sobs, I nodded and Roger swept me up in a hug so quickly that he almost winded me.

'Thank God for that,' he muttered into my ear. 'I've been scared of losing that ring all year.'

'I suppose it's my problem now,' I whispered back, giggling through my tears.

'Our problem.'