Rising Up, Like The Sun
"Enough time for a cup of tea?"
"Well, we'll need to be there early, but I suppose with there not being as much fuss this time that it'll be quiet."
She paused for a moment, trying to think of something that had flown out of her head and which didn't seem to want to come back. It couldn't be that important, she reasoned, but it nagged at her all the same.
"I wouldn't want to leave anything to chance," she added, one hand at her hip and the other resting against the neat swell of her stomach.
"I'm sure that everything is under control," John uttered, his voice calm and measured. It wasn't his voice or look alone that guided her; he came across the room, almost without her even being aware, a gentle hand steering her towards the table. "And if not, then someone will see to it. It isn't up to you to think of everything."
She smiled up at him, unable to stop herself from craning her neck around as she took her seat. "Just as well. I feel as though I'm getting awfully forgetful."
He didn't make a reply, only smiled before he set to gathering the things that were needed. She let herself be for a few moments, watching him potter around with a fond smile on her face. Her toes wriggled in her shoes; she'd been aware of a faint aching of her feet since not long after she had got out of bed that morning.
There were much worse things to complain about, and in the scheme of things it was nothing to bother about at all.
It was a well-timed interlude all the same, and she smiled then to consider his intuition. No matter the impending occasion, there was always time for tea.
She sipped gratefully from her cup, the liquid like nectar. She had a thought about whether the baby would appreciate the warm comfort as much as she did, almost giggling at it. Surely he – for she was almost completely convinced that it was a boy – would acquire the taste from the both of them, even if it would take a few years.
John had noticed her amusement, but again, didn't question, merely happy in her happiness. The sun glinted through the window, soft and subtle. She was glad that it was out today; it felt like a good omen, though she was careful not to get caught up in those superstitions.
"A lot is changing," she said, the somewhat obvious thought the first thing that came into her mind.
John nodded in agreement. "It is. For the better," he added after a pause.
She smiled as her hands cradled the cup. Certainly it was for Mr Molesley, with the prospect of teaching becoming an ever-clearer reality. She knew that it would be for Lady Mary and Mr Talbot too, quite happy to admit that she had been wrong.
Her thoughts went to Thomas, turning the sunshine to shadow momentarily. It had been a lucky turn of events, and she was hopeful that he would recover his spirits, even if it would likely take some time. She certainly knew what it was like to be in such a dark place, and she would keep him in her prayers.
She brightened once more when she looked at John, thinking how blessed she was.
"It does make me a little sad in a way," she confessed, "that it won't all be the same."
"That's understandable," he replied.
She didn't know if it was, entirely. Her attitude to change used to be different. When she was younger she hadn't had a lot of say in the matter. Change had been a matter of survival, then it became something to be excited about. In the last few years she had changed in ways she might have dreamed about but never really expected, and then change cut like a knife, bringing nearly everything to ashes.
Yet change itself was changing, and she was becoming more like her old self, but with important transformations. In the same way that flowers could be frozen, almost it seemed to the point that they would never recover, things that were always within her were blooming once more, nourished by light and love that never left her.
Love that came from love, the most thrilling – and nervewracking – change that could ever be imagined. She was eager for it to come to fruition, which was something that nobody would be able to argue with if they knew of their circumstances, but she was willing to wait, too, and relish in the anticipation. Quite enough was changing around them as it was, anyway.
"Everything happens for a reason, or so my mother used to say."
"I think that she was a wise woman," John said.
Most of the time. She'd have been happy for them, she was sure of that.
"She also said that it'd happen when it was right. No amount of wishing or wanting would make what was meant to be come any quicker."
Perhaps it was the wanting that made it so difficult. She didn't think about that now.
The fluttering took her by surprise, as it always did. It brought the smile to her face too, and reading her eyes he knew what was happening. In the next moment he was almost kneeling by her seat, and she let out a light peal of laughter as one of his hands fitted to her stomach, looking down at him affectionately.
"You don't have to do it every time," she said, though she revelled in his attentiveness.
"I don't want to miss anything," he gave as a reply, smiling up towards her, "not when I can help it."
She couldn't argue with that, not when every little moment felt like a miracle.