Chapter Sixteen

In the Seventeenth Century, Albert the Emancipator led the army to defeat the reigning Ferlish invaders to set the native people of the land free from bondage to become the first monarch of House Everard. He was twenty-four years old when he was crowned. Despite the prowess he showed in battle and the incredible leadership he conveyed, there was much concern over his young age. But his elders had faith in him, and he was popular amongst the people. Still, one of the first laws the Legislature passed was to ensure that no monarch could ever reign until their twenty-fourth year. If a king died when his heir was younger than that, a provisional monarch would be put in place until the heir turned twenty-four and could then be properly crowned.

And so came the tradition forever thereafter that all members of House Everard, whether next in line for the throne or not, were widely feted for their twenty-fourth birthday. Ruth, of course, did not enjoy being celebrated in any sense. She and her father both did not enjoy being the center of attention. Uncle Edmund and Grandfather both loved it. And Uncle Edmund's wife loved it even more. But it wasn't their birthdays being celebrated, it was Ruth's. And she had no choice but to be given a lavish birthday party.

Many weeks before, she had asked that the official, formal party thrown at the palace be on the weekend before her birthday, as the day itself when she would turn twenty-four was in the middle of the week and she had to work and did not want to take the day off just to be shoved into a gown and paraded in front of the aristocracy and toasted till no one could speak clearly anymore. She had wanted to have the official party beforehand because she had hoped that she could spend the weekend after her birthday with Harry. Obviously that wasn't an option now. But what was done was done.

The celebration that Grandfather put on in her honor had been wonderful. The gown chosen for her had been silver, her customary color, but far more outlandishly beautiful than any she'd ever worn before. It was a ballgown, fit for a princess, to be sure. Covered in sparkling beads and genuine crystals. The skirt was so full, Ruth had trouble fitting into a chair and was forced to remain standing with a two-foot berth around her all evening. Which was all for the best, actually. She had not been in a celebratory mood at all.

During the party, Dad had danced with her and asked her what was wrong. She'd not seen him much since it all happened, so she found herself explaining more than was probably right to say at a party. She told him that she had been seeing her boss, romantically, and that things had come to light that caused her to rethink their relationship and she had ended it. He had pressed her for more information, which forced her to confess that Harry had children that he'd never told her about and though she'd met them and liked them very much, she had far too many concerns about trusting him to feel comfortable being with him.

"Ruth, dear, do you love him?"

She blushed bright red when he asked her that. "We were only together a few months…"

"But you've known him for what, a year?"

"A year and a half."

"And?"

Ruth could hardly bring herself to say it. "Yes," was all she managed.

"The way I see it, dear, a father has trouble finding romance. Most women don't want to raise someone else's children. If Harry kept them from you, it was probably so that you could get to know him as himself, not as your boss and not as a father."

"He said he thought I knew."

"I'm sure he thought you did. I don't imagine a man you'd fall in love with would be the kind of man to keep things from you like that, is that right?" Dad pointed out.

Ruth sighed. "I suppose."

Dad smiled at her. "And if you love him, I think you both deserve another chance to see if you can make things work. I'm sure he's miserable without you."

"How do you know?"

"Oh any man would be miserable without you, dear. I know I am."

She laughed and kissed his cheek as they twirled around the dancefloor. It was in her mind to ask him if he'd ever tried to find romance after her mother died, if being a father had been a hindrance for him in that department. But part of her did not want to know the answer.

After dancing with Dad, she shared a dance with Uncle Edmund, with a number of members of the Legislature and various noblemen, and finally with her grandfather. It was tradition that the King dance the last dance of the evening and then thanked his guests for being there, thus ending the party. Ruth had been dying for that final dance all night.

The following day, photographs from the party were all over the newspapers. She hated her picture in the newspaper, and with her twenty-fourth birthday, there seemed to be something about her every single day for a week. It was exhausting. And even worse, people started talking to her at work about it. Four women complimented her on the gown by the time Ruth had finished her morning coffee. It was meant in kindness, of course, but anything about Princess Louisa that got brought into her life as Ruth, Operational Liaison of Army Foreign Intelligence, always felt so odd to her.

On Tuesday, the day of her actual birthday—which thankfully no one knew—she arrived in the office at her usual time and went right to her desk to start her day. Only her desk was not as she'd left it the night before. There was a flat box wrapped in red paper with a thick envelope on top with her name handwritten on the back. It was handwriting she knew very well.

She looked over at the window to Harry's office. The blinds were closed. Interesting. She turned back to the envelope and opened it cautiously. Inside was a very simple card with a picture of some wildflowers and printed script reading Happy Birthday. She opened the card and two smaller envelopes fell out. She put them aside and read the inscription in the card.

Ruth,
 I hope you have a happy birthday. You looked so beautiful in the gown at your formal party last weekend, and I wish I could have seen it in person and not just in the paper. Though I suppose that is inappropriate of me to say now. I hope you'll forgive me, it being your birthday and all. Please accept these small tokens of my affection as your superior, if nothing more. And I was instructed to include these other notes in with mine, though I will confess I've not read them so I cannot prepare you for what they might say.
 All the best,
 Harry

She wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean, but Harry getting her a birthday present was incredibly sweet. He probably had planned something for her birthday, before all this mess. He was like that, thoughtful about events and such. Though, honestly, all she had wanted to do for her birthday was spend the whole weekend at home with him and Fidget, watching television and making love and lazing about in bed together. That was what she enjoyed most, just being with him. They had been so happy.

Ruth shook herself and stopped that train of thought. She ripped the red wrapping paper and opened the box. Inside was a book about cats and a soundtrack recording from her favorite movie. It wasn't fancy jewelry or anything extravagant, as she might have expected from Harry. No, these were simple gifts. But made all the more special than anything else because these were gifts that showed that he knew her. He knew she had a cat—something very few other people did—and he knew what her favorite movie was. No one in the world knew what her favorite movie was, not even her father. But Harry knew. They'd watched it together on television on one of those lazy Saturday mornings they'd joyously spent wearing very little clothing and snuggling up on her sofa with Fidget. Harry knew her favorite movie. He knew her and he remembered and he'd given her these gifts for her birthday, even after she'd ended their romance.

Before she could get too overwhelmed and start crying at her desk, she turned to the other two envelopes. Each said her name on the back, each in different handwriting that she did not recognize. She opened one and was surprised with what she found.

Dear Ruth,
I hope you have a good birthday. I asked Dad if we could have a party for you, since I like having parties for my birthday, but he said you get to have a fancy one at the palace because you're a princess and we wouldn't be invited. And then Catherine said you and Dad aren't together anymore. I think Dad's really sad about it, because he's been gone a lot. He used to be gone a lot before, but he's been better lately.
 He used to talk about you a lot. He said you were smart and kind and beautiful, and I am really glad I finally got to meet you before it ended. I am sorry you and my dad aren't together anymore. I really liked getting to meet you. Catherine found that book you told me about at the library at our school and I'm going to start reading it. Maybe I can write to you and tell you about it? Dad can deliver letters back and forth, if that's okay with you. Anyway, I hope I get to see you again sometime, but I know that I probably won't. I think you're really nice, and I hope your birthday is good.
 From, Graham

Ruth could not believe what Graham had written in that note. That he had written her at all was incredible. Harry had told Graham about her? Well, he'd never told her about Graham. But he was a sweet boy, very excitable and earnest. The book she'd told him about had been one of her favorites when she was about his age, and the idea that he wanted to read it on her recommendation was more than she imagined. Had she really made such an impact on him? Apparently she had. She read the note three more times before she turned to the other.

Ruth,
 It was Graham's idea to write to you for your birthday, once Dad explained everything. And I thought for a long time what I wanted to say. Dad told me why you dumped him, which I guess makes sense. I can imagine it was a shock to meet us if you didn't know we existed. And Dad was an idiot for not warning you or talking about us at all. But the thing is, my dad is an idiot when it comes to things like this. My Mum used to talk about how reckless and wild he was, how he'd go off and cheat on her and do whatever he wanted. But he's not like that anymore. He was really happy with you. And since things ended, he's been so sad. He's been avoiding being at home again. Even when he was spending nights at your place, he was still home for dinner and spent time with us otherwise. And he never used to do that before. You made him want to be better, I think. He wanted to be the kind of man who was worthy of you. And not even that you're a princess, you're just really great. I can see why he loves you. And I'm sorry it didn't work out because both me and Graham would have liked to know you better. Dad's never brought anyone to meet us before, so I hope we didn't scare you off. And if you're worried about him being with you making him an absent father, I promise it's the opposite. He pulls away and gets grumpy when he's sad. We've missed him these last few weeks. And I know it's because he's missed you. So if you love him like I really hope you do, I hope you'll give him another chance.
 Oh and I found that book you mentioned to Graham and he wants to read it so he can talk to you about it, so if you could at least answer his letters, that would be really nice. Thanks.
 Catherine

Ruth read over Catherine's letter about a dozen times. She was so wrapped up in those words that she forgot she was at work until her phone rang. As she answered, she put the letters and the card and the gifts under her desk to take home later and she rummaged around for her files so she could properly start her day. Everything else would have to wait.