Chapter Nine
"I won't be home for supper tomorrow," Harry informed his family.
"But you weren't home last night!" Catherine whined.
"Yes, I know, sweetheart," he replied patiently. Truly he did not appreciate that tone of her voice but he and Malcolm had just discussed that he needed to spend more time with the children and he did not want to spend the time he did have with them being cross.
"Dad, do you have meetings?" Graham asked.
Harry smiled over at his son. He was more interested in Harry's job than one might have anticipated. Catherine didn't care at all about the army or government or the like. She was about to turn fourteen and at the moment only wanted to go to the movies with her friends and volunteer at the animal shelter. Most likely he'd have to buy her some sort of pet for her birthday, which he was dreading.
But Graham, though, he was an extremely curious lad. Always interested in what Harry was doing, always asking questions, always reading. Harry told him as much as he could, but of course a lot of the work he did was confidential. And it was just as Malcolm had said, that Graham was disappointed not to spend more time with his father. Harry did want to change that. He'd give it some thought and see what he could do.
"No," Harry responded, answering Graham's question. He hesitated a moment before adding, "I have a dinner date."
Catherine turned to him sharply. "A date?"
"Yes."
"You're dating?" she asked accusingly.
"Not in the general sense, but I am going to have dinner with one particular woman."
Graham seemed unperturbed by his sister's tone. "Dad, is she pretty?"
Harry smiled. "Yes, I think she's very pretty."
"What's her name?" he asked.
"Ruth."
"Can we meet her?"
Catherine interjected before Harry could answer. "Why do you want to meet her? Even if Dad keeps her around for more than a week, why would she want anything to do with us?"
Malcolm placed a calming hand on her arm. "Catherine, that's a rather unkind remark."
"But it's true," she insisted. "Dad doesn't spend time with nice women, especially ones who would care about his kids."
Harry felt his stomach tie in knots to hear his daughter say such a thing. "Why would you say that?"
"Mum said," Catherine replied with a shrug.
He'd been afraid of that. He and Jane had certainly had their differences and he had been a terrible husband to her. But the idea that she had hated him so much that she would tell such things to their children was extremely disappointing. He'd not speak badly about Jane to them, not only because she was their mother but because she was dead. He chose instead to skate past that remark and return to the more relevant topic of conversation. "Ruth is very different from other women I have had relationships with in the past. And not that it is any of your business, Catherine, but she's the first woman I've dated since I took the job in the capitol."
Thankfully, Catherine was properly chastised at that and did not respond. Graham looked from his sister to his father and back again, clearly trying to decide if it was safe for him to say anything. "So can we meet her?" he asked quietly.
"We'll see. I like her very much, but I've only been out with her once."
"Was that where you went for dinner last night?" Graham interrupted.
"Yes."
"And you're seeing her again tomorrow?" Catherine asked.
"Yes."
Catherine made a small 'hmph' noise.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked her warily.
"You must like her if you're seeing her twice in one week. That's not a usual thing men do, is it?"
He was immediately caught off guard and instantly uncomfortable. "What do you know about what men do?"
"I see a lot of films, Dad," she answered, rolling her eyes.
That made him feel slightly better. Being the father of a teenaged girl was going to be absolutely terrifying, he could feel it.
"Dad, I hope your date goes really well," Graham said.
Harry turned his attention back to his son and chuckled slightly. "Why do you hope my date goes well?"
The boy shrugged. "You seem happy."
"I am happy," Harry replied.
And he was happy. He was very happy with how he and Ruth had left things the night before. He'd walked her back to her car, earning quite the glare from Tom Quinn which fazed him not at all, and softly kissed her hand. Perhaps a bit overly chivalrous, but she was a princess after all. Ruth had blushed and smiled and her eyes sparkled so prettily. He had been thinking about it ever since. And then today at work, everything had been just as it always was. They remained just as professional as before. Though Harry did quite like that he could look out his office window to see her and every so often she'd look up and smile at him. And if that was the only thing that changed about their working relationship, he would be very happy.
Before Harry knew it, he and Ruth were out on their second date. Or rather the second attempt at their first date. She had told him to pick her up at her townhouse this time, as Tom Quinn had agreed to follow them in a separate car and to remain outside the restaurant and maintain the perimeter. Harry liked the sound of that.
He drove to the address she had given him. It was in the very posh part of the capitol, which made sense. It was actually not too far from his own house. And for a member of the royal family, her house seemed rather humble. It was just a house. A very nice house, but not to big or outlandish at all. By all appearances, Ruth had neighbors and lived in the city just like anyone else. Harry had always liked the way she treated her royal status, and this absolutely proved all he knew about her.
When he rang the doorbell, it was opened by a maid. "Miss Ruth is almost ready, Sir Harry," she told him. "Please come in."
Harry waited patiently in the foyer, looking at the pretty stained glass in the front door and the rather simple paintings of flowers and photographs of landscapes hung up on her wall. It seemed a very comfortable and homey sort of place.
Upstairs, there was a clatter and a muffled shout that, if Harry had to guess, was the sound of Ruth knocking something over and swearing about it. He'd seen her do such a thing at work many, many times. He smiled.
A door opened and thundering footsteps sounded on the landing. "Harry, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting!" she called.
He couldn't quite see her yet, but he heard her voice. "It's quite alright, Ruth," he replied.
And then she appeared coming down the stairs. He saw her shoes first. Black high heels, looking very elegant but nothing too special. She work black sheer stockings as well, which highlighted her rather shapely calves. He'd seen that plenty in her army uniform, but the black stockings were much more seductive. And then Harry saw the exquisitely beautiful violet dress she wore. The color was dark and subdued, and the full skirt reached her knees. It had a ribbon tied at her waist and the neckline was modest. What was very noticeable, however, was the fact that the dress was strapless and the entire expanse of her arms and shoulders and neck were on display. Her pale skin looked so soft and creamy and perfect. He barely could tear his eyes away to look at her smiling face wearing makeup almost exactly as she did for their last dinner, and her hair was softly curled just the same way.
"You look beautiful," he breathed, trying to keep from staring at her with his jaw dropped.
She blushed and looked away, as she seemed to every time he said anything complimentary to her, but she smiled. "Thank you," she replied softly when she got to the bottom of the stairs. "You look very handsome. I like the blue." Her hand gently touched his chest, making him shiver.
Harry had worn a black suit with a white shirt and a silver tie on their first evening. Now he wore a blue shirt with a gray suit and black tie. He was extremely glad he'd decided to wear the blue shirt. "Shall we?"
Ruth nodded. The maid handed her a coat and Ruth took his arm. Her maid closed and locked the front door behind them. Harry opened the passenger's side door for her and walked around the front of the car to get in on the driver's side. He saw Tom Quinn in the car behind him, ready to follow. Harry gave him a small wave. He was too pleased to feel any annoyance with the man now.
The restaurant he took her to was much less formal than the first. It was a small place with small tables and a fire across from the bar. Lots of white tablecloths and dark wood and low lighting. Much more intimate. Hopefully a place to make her much less nervous.
But she did not seem nervous now. They chatted happily in the car on their way. He'd asked her about the state dinner the night before and she told him all about it. What her role was at the dinner, where she sat, who she spoke to, what the Jelmanese President was like, how her grandfather handled things, what her father and uncle and aunt were doing. Harry was even so bold as to ask what she had worn; until their first dinner, he'd never seen her out of uniform and so he was now suddenly fascinated with what sorts of things she liked to wear out in the world in her royal duties. She laughed at his question, probably finding it silly that he could be interested in such a thing, and described the silver dress she wore.
"I like wearing silver and gray for things like that," she told him. "I'm not sure why. Probably when I was a little girl, they always put me in pink, which I thought was silly. Nowadays I prefer darker colors so I don't stand out or catch attention, but I'm not allowed to hide at royal functions. The silver always feels elegant, I think. It's…it's like the army uniform, actually."
"Oh? How so?"
"It's what I'm supposed to wear and protects me as a result. Ruth likes to wear blue and black and purple and brown, but Princess Louisa always wears silver and gray and ivory. Helps separate the worlds, I suppose. Like when you're Major Pearce versus just Harry, I'd imagine."
He had never really thought about it that way, but her point certainly made sense. Good lord she was just so intelligent all the time. He could listen to her talk forever, he thought.
Their pleasant conversation lasted as they parked the car and went inside. They chatted through their ordering. When the wine was poured, they toasted to second chances.
Harry was rather sure that from the moment he saw her that evening until the moment she excused herself to powder her nose while he paid the bill, neither one of them had stopped smiling. Certainly the best possible outcome of this second chance.