Chapter Seventeen

The day was extremely busy. Ruth was on the phone half the day managing the changeover of officers in Arelland. It wasn't her responsibility, strictly speaking, but she was fluent in the language and it was her responsibility to oversee the department on Harry's behalf. And really, it was probably the best way to spend her birthday. Just at work, doing what she was best at. This was what she was best at, she knew. She was good at this job. Bloody good at it.

And it was good to be busy today and to keep her mind off of Harry and the letters from his children. That was going to give her quite a lot to think about. Catherine's letter particularly.

When Ruth had met Catherine, it had been clear that the girl was reticent about her. But upon realizing who she was—Princess Louisa, not just Ruth who worked with her father—Catherine's whole demeanor had changed. Ruth found her to be a remarkably smart and intuitive girl. And though Graham was the spitting image of Harry, it was Catherine who had his mannerisms and his demeanor. She was obviously extremely observant and intuitive like her father as well, if that letter was anything to go by.

Catherine had said that Harry loved her. Was that true? Had he told her that? He had not said those words to Ruth, though she flattered herself to suspect that he might love her. After all, theirs was not a relationship of convenience in any way. Ruth herself was a bit of a mess, she knew, and the difficulty of maintaining a romance amidst their work and especially around her royal duties was quite significant. Harry Pearce was not the kind of man to put forth effort where he didn't want to. He was duty-bound, of course, but he had no duty to her. None but the duty of a man to the woman he loves. So maybe that was true.

In her letter, Catherine had also surmised that Ruth loved Harry as well. And though she had similarly not told Harry that, Ruth knew it to be true. Oh god, how she loved him! Ending their relationship had been the worst thing she'd ever done. And it was because she loved him that she ended it. Because how far could things really go between them? She was a princess and he was a father. The former they had managed to contend with while things were relatively informal between them, but the latter made things far more serious. She could not carry on a fling with a man who had children. And Ruth was only ten years older than Catherine! Well, the age gap between Harry and herself had always been in the back of Ruth's mind, but being so close in age to his daughter was mildly alarming. Was it as distasteful as Uncle Edmund and his cow of a wife who was only five years Ruth's senior? Well, Ruth wasn't Uncle Edmund's daughter, so perhaps that was slightly less upsetting. Still, it was more for Ruth to think about.

She got a surprise in the afternoon while she was on a call when Harry, shut up in his office with the blinds drawn all day, walked past her wearing his coat and carrying his briefcase. A sure sign he was leaving for the day. He hadn't even said two words to her. Not that he had reason to. He'd left the birthday gifts on her desk and he'd said more in his card than perhaps he should have. But still, it would have been nice to see him so at least she could have said thank you to him.

Ruth could not spare too much thought, as she was translating over the phone. But thankfully, the time difference with Arelland meant that their workday was finished much sooner than hers would be. She could put that project aside for the time being and finally breathe for a moment.

She pulled the birthday gifts from Harry out from under her desk to look at them. The best birthday gifts she'd ever been given, honestly. Because they were gifts from a man who cared about her. Maybe even loved her. And they were gifts that showed that he knew her and wanted to give her something she would like. Not something beautiful and expensive and objectively exciting, but something that she would like.

Without another thought, Ruth gathered the gifts and the card from Harry with the notes from Graham and Catherine tucked inside, and she picked up her purse and walked right out. Tom was standing sentinel outside the door, as always and hurried to catch up with her as she walked purposefully down the hall.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

It was an impertinent question, but it was his job to know such things and, after all, he'd have to drive her there. "To Harry's house," she instructed.

"I wasn't informed," he replied crossly.

"I just decided about ten seconds before I told you, so don't feel too put out."

Twenty minutes later, driving through the capitol in the height of traffic, Tom parked the car outside the Pearce house. Mansion, really. It was much grander than Ruth's own townhouse. Though it would be, Harry being a war hero and having children and a live-in butler. Ruth just had her cat and a maid and a security officer. If it were up to her, she'd just have the cat.

Tom walked the perimeter as was his way, and Ruth rang the bell at the front door.

"Ruth!" Malcolm greeted in surprise. "How nice to see you!"

"Hello, Malcolm," she greeted in return. "Is Harry in? I need to talk to him."

Malcolm let her inside. "He's not in yet, I'm afraid. But he should be home before supper. The children are here, though. Just got back from school."

She could not help but give a soft smile. "May I see them, then, while I wait for Harry?"

"Of course."

Before he could go fetch the children, Graham came out of his room for something and saw Ruth from the landing. He gasped her name excitedly and hurried to his sister's room, banging on her door. "Cat, Ruth's here!" he shouted.

Ruth was a bit overwhelmed by the attention but his enthusiasm made her laugh. He came barreling down the stairs to her.

"Happy birthday, Ruth! Did you get my letter?" Graham asked excitedly.

"I did! That was so sweet of you. Thank you so much. Have you started reading that book yet?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "I'm almost half through! I can't wait to talk to you about it. But it's your birthday, did you come so we could have a party for you?" He turned to Malcolm. "Can we bake a cake for Ruth? It's her birthday, she needs a cake."

Catherine came down the stairs much less energetically than her brother. She looked at Ruth very curiously. It gave Ruth an idea.

Malcolm was telling Graham that they could bake a cake but only if he helped, so Ruth interrupted, "Graham, why don't you go help Malcolm and then come talk to me about the book once the cake is in the oven and you're waiting for it. I'd like to talk to Catherine for a little while until you're free, if that's okay."

Graham dragged Malcolm into the kitchen and Catherine nodded in agreement. "You want to talk to me?"

"Yes, where would you like to go? Your room, maybe?"

"You want to see my room?"

"If it's not too personal to ask," Ruth said quickly, realizing that a teenaged girl probably did not want anyone to come into her room ever for any reason.

But Catherine shrugged. "Sure, let's go to my room." She led Ruth upstairs. The room Catherine took her to was a bit untidy, clothes and pillows and things strewn about on the floor. The bed was made but very rumpled. All of the furniture was wooden and painted white. The walls were a soothing blue and the duvet on the bed matched.

"It's very pretty," Ruth complimented. "Did you pick out the blue?"

"No, my mum did. Blue for me and green for Graham. I don't know why. My bedsheets were all pink when I was little. But now I have the white and blue."

"I'd imagine it feels like falling asleep on a cloud."

"That's why I picked the colors."

The two shared a soft, quiet smile.

"So…you wanted to talk?"

"Yes," Ruth replied, getting down to it. "I got your letter. And I want to thank you for it. I can't imagine it was easy to put all those things into words and to take such a chance on behalf of your dad like that."

Catherine shrugged again. "Well, he didn't seem like he was going to do anything about it. And I know he misses you. Are you here because you missed him?"

Ruth nodded. "And I thought he'd be here. He left about half an hour before I did. But he…" A memory of the department day planner popped into her mind. "Oh damn, he's meeting with the Legislature today, I'd forgotten."

A teasing smile played on Catherine's lips. "You're not really supposed to swear in front of kids."

"You're hardly a kid, Catherine," Ruth pointed out. "And I cannot imagine your father follows that rule."

She laughed, "No, he doesn't."

"You should hear the way he complains about the politicians," Ruth said, laughing in return. "Actually, on second thought, you probably shouldn't."

The two ladies continued laughing and talking. Catherine showed Ruth some of her prized possessions, including her collection of film posters and the books about history that she loved. They were interrupted a while later by Graham, wanting to talk to Ruth about the book he was reading. At that point, Ruth followed Graham to his room and left Catherine to finish up her homework. Graham sat on his bed—gray bedding on white furniture similar to Catherine's but the walls of his room were all a rather attractive forest green—and regaled her with everything he'd read so far. She asked him about parts she recalled, if he liked them too. They talked about their favorite characters and Ruth teased him with hints about what was coming next in the story. They probably could have continued much longer if Malcolm had not come to tell Graham that the cake was coming out of the oven.

Ruth, Catherine, and Graham all went down to the kitchen with Malcolm. Graham and Malcolm made frosting while Catherine used her surprising artistic talent with gum paste to make decorations. Ruth offered to help but was not as skilled as Catherine. They had fun anyway.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned to see Harry, still in his uniform, standing in the kitchen doorway.

Graham, hands covered in frosting, announced, "Dad, Ruth came to celebrate her birthday with us! We're making her a cake!"

Harry looked to Ruth. "I forgot you were in that meeting. I came to speak with you, but we all got a bit carried away."

"You'd better come into my study."

Ruth nodded. She put down the gum paste flower she was trying to make and noticed that her hands were stained with dye. The children and Malcolm carried on as Ruth hurried to follow Harry.

They went into his study, where they'd spent some time the last time Ruth had been to his house, and he closed the door behind them.

"It's your birthday, Ruth, what are you doing here?" he asked softly.

She watched as he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Her mouth went a bit dry. "I…erm…I wanted to talk to you. And…and thank you for my birthday presents."

He nodded. "I'm glad you liked them."

"They're the best presents I've ever received, honestly. But I also wanted to talk to you about what Graham and Catherine wrote to me."

Harry braced himself, as he obviously did not know what his children had told her.

"Graham wanted to have a birthday party for me. So hopefully this goes well and I don't have to leave before we can have cake. I wouldn't like to disappoint him. He's a very sweet boy. But it's really Catherine I wanted to talk about."

"Oh Christ, what did she say?"

"Well, she said you were an idiot but that you love me and I should give you another chance."

Harry's jaw dropped. Ruth's heart thundered in her chest and her blue-dyed hands were wringing nervously.

"Is that true?"

"That I'm an idiot? Yes, I think so," he replied.

She took a step toward him. They were close enough to reach out and touch each other, but neither did. Not yet. "No," she clarified, "is it true that you love me?" It was a terribly bold thing to ask and Ruth had no idea where that kind of bravery was coming from. Maybe because Catherine had already put so much in that letter. Maybe because Ruth felt so sure that this was the right thing to do. It amazed her, sometimes, what she could do when she felt it was right.

"Yes, of course it's true," Harry told her softly. He reached up to cup her cheek, just as he'd done that night of their first date.

Ruth smiled and nuzzled into his hand slightly. "I love you, too," she replied.

A great beaming smile appeared on Harry's face. "I'm going to have to thank my children for being so nosy, but first I'd very much like to kiss you, if that's alright."

"It's my birthday, Harry, I'd be quite cross if you didn't kiss me."

And kiss her he did.