Thank you all!

Chapter 7

Since his return home, John found that Anna wanted to be with him any time they were alone. Just this morning, they had made love, yet again. Anna laid next to him, her skin pink from the exertion of their love making. His finger ran over the sheen of sweat on her chest and she looked up, smiling.

John couldn't lie. He enjoyed every moment of this. Before he had been sent away, they had only gotten one night together. Now, they had a week so far and they would have the rest of their lives now.

He bent forward, capturing her lips with his own. Anna wrapped her arm around his chest, drawing herself closer toward him. She was soon over him, kissing up his neck. Her hands were greedy for him

"My darling," he said, stilling her movements. Anna looked up. "Don't you have to go into work? I thought I would walk up with you, see if there is any headway with my position."

"I can go in later," Anna told him. Her lips ran along his jaw. Again, he stilled her movements.

This was how Anna was with him. She only wanted to sleep with him. She avoided any conversations outside of it. Her excuse was always that she had missed him and that they had to make up for lost time. Generally, he accepted that answer from her. They did deserve this time and once he was back to work permanently it would be harder to have this time. However, he would love to have a conversation with her outside of sex. It felt like she was avoiding him, in a way.

"Come on, my darling," he encouraged. "We should get dressed and get there in time for breakfast."

Anna slid off him and turned away with a sigh. He frowned.

"Why don't you want me?"

His brows furrowed and he sat up, placing his hand on Anna's shoulder.

"Anna, I've had you many times just in the last twenty-four hours," he chuckled. He kissed the crook of her neck. "And I have loved every minute. But it is time to go to work now."

Anna stood off the bed and walked toward the wardrobe to pull out her simple black dress. She shimmed on her undergarments and slip, without another word. By the time she had on her dress, John was behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror, as he began to button up the back.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear. She shivered beneath the warmth of his breath. "I was thinking we could leave the Abbey today at lunch and head down to the cemetery. I still haven't seen where our son was buried."

As she always did when he mentioned their son, Anna froze. He watched her eyes move back and forth slightly while she determined what she was going to say in response to that. He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

"I really would love to know his name," he softly added.

John noted the way her cheeks paled and her eyes shined with tears he knew she wouldn't shed.

"Please, Anna," he now pleaded. "Please tell me his name."

Her shoulders squared. She met his eyes in the mirror and he watched as she swallowed hard.

"I…I can't," she whispered. "And I don't want to go to the cemetery. I have…I have too much to do today."

He knew it was a lie. Lady Mary had been very generous with Anna's time since he arrived home. She told him point blank to keep Anna home any day he chose to and that she could have someone else to fill in. She said until he returned to work, Anna could consider any day a half or whole day off.

Anna passed by him. She headed to the wash room where she would pin up her hair. Instead of leaving her alone to do this, he followed her. This was becoming too much. Anna couldn't keep ignoring that pain. He'd given her a week. It was time. He deserved to grieve for his son they lost.

"Why won't you talk about him?" John asked her, his words a bit harsher than he intended. Anna blinked, but she didn't remove her eyes from the mirror in front of her. Her nimble fingers picked up a pin to place in her hair. Quickly and with ease, her beautiful blonde locks were pulled into a bun.

"Anna?" He tried again, when he didn't get a response. "Why?"

Anna turned to him, her jaw set. "Because, I can't. Please, leave it be."

She tried to step past him, but he blocked her by placing his hand on the doorframe. She sighed heavily.

"Let me pass."

"No," he said. "We need to discuss our son, Anna. We lost our son."

Suddenly, Anna's cheeks grew red with anger.

"I know that. I was there," she spat. "Now, will you let me pass?"

The venom in Anna's words was enough to make his hand drop. She quickly walked past him, as John fell back against the doorframe. Her words struck like glass against his skin. That was it. She was angry at him for not being there that day. The tears welled in his eyes. He hated he hadn't been able to be there with her as she went through it. He didn't blame her for hating him for it. He turned and walked toward her, wanting to say something to make this right, so that she knew he understood why she was angry.

But when he reached her, she had a smile on her lips and she looked him over.

"You can't very much go in dressed in your pajamas Mr. Bates," she said with a playful lit to her voice. She walked closer toward him, placing her hands on his chest and giving him a wink. "At least, I don't think Mr. Carson would be pleased."

John shook his head. He brought his hand up to rest on Anna's cheek.

"No," he quietly agreed, "He would not."

"Well, are you going to change? Or have you decided to stay here?"

"I'll go change," he told her. Her smile grew.

"Great."

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

John found that he didn't know how to get his wife to open up to him. The only time she had shown a bit of her feelings was when he had pushed her. Did he need to do that again? Was that fair of him, when she was hurting so badly?

He paused at the front of the cemetery. Since Anna would not come along with him, he decided that he would go alone. He needed to see where his son had been buried and pay his respects. He wanted to tell his son how much he had been wanted and how sorry he was for how things had turned out.

John walked along the path and it was right where Lord Grantham had promised it would be. He placed his cane on a stone near him and then carefully moved himself down toward the stone for his son. His heart came into his throat and he didn't know just how much it would hurt and heal to be here. His hand pressed over the words.

Baby Boy Bates

"Hello," he then said, swallowing hard. "I'm your father. I am sorry it has taken me so long to visit. I…" He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. "I am sorry," he repeated. The tears stung his eyes and he let out a low sob. It hit him hard and was surprised when a louder one came. He just allowed them to come. He hadn't truly had a chance to grieve for this life he and Anna had lost.

He sat there for a long while past the time the sobs had settled into silent tears. Then he wiped at his cheeks and sat back slightly, ignoring the throbbing in his knee.

His right brow rose when he saw a flower on the side of the gravestone. He wasn't sure how he had missed it before. He lifted it up. It had been there for at least a day, if not more. The pedals had begun to dry out. He twisted his lips, wondering who could have placed it there. Part of him wondered if it was Anna. But when could she have come?

He sighed and placed it back in its spot and noticed the pedals from other flowers around the stone. Someone had been placing flowers often here. Someone was remembering his son.

He kissed the tips of his fingers and placed it against the name Bates.

"I'll be back," he promised. "I love you."

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

John watched Anna intently as she poured the whisky straight into her cup of tea. He doubted it tasted any good, but she seemed to insist that it did. She took a big sip and then added a bit more, making him frown.

"I've been thinking," Anna began, as she closed the bottle of whisky and placed it back into the cabinet. Every day, John checked the whiskey to make sure more wasn't missing. It did seem that Anna only kept to it at night. He was grateful for that at least.

"What about?"

"Well," Anna smiled, sipping on her whiskey tea, "With the rate you and I have been going at it, Mr. Bates, we could have a little one by next spring."

John's brows furrowed at this. To be honest, he hadn't even thought about that. Anna was right. They could. They hadn't taken any sort of precautions. It wasn't that John didn't want a child with Anna, he absolutely did. But he wasn't sure that now was the right time. They still hadn't properly grieved the loss of their son, together.

"Is…is that what you want?" He carefully asked her. Anna grinned.

"Of course, I do, silly beggar. Don't you?"

"I do want children with you, Anna. There's nothing more in this life that I want. But are you sure now is the right time for a baby? We've only just lost…"

"Don't start that again," Anna said, shaking her head.

"Start that again?" John countered. "Am I not allowed to speak about our son? Anna, I've been home for over a week now. It's time we sat down and talked about him. It's time you told me his name."

"Do you not want to have a baby with me, John?" Anna replied. "Do you not trust that I can be a good mother?"

"What?" John breathed. "Anna, I've only asked that we speak about him. Tell me what he looked like. Did he have any hair? Was he small? What did you name him?"

Anna harshly shook her head back and forth. Her lips tight.

"You don't understand. You just….you don't understand…."

"No," John quietly agreed, stepping forward. "I don't. I don't understand why you won't talk with me about him. I don't understand why you are so focused on having another child. Are…are you trying to replace him? That's not healthy, Anna. You need to face what happened."

"How dare you!" Anna screamed. "How dare you say that I am trying to replace him!"

"Well, are you?" John countered, not sure where this surge came from.

She tightened her hands and moved closer toward him

"How. Dare. You," she repeated. "You have no idea! No idea!"

"Then tell me!"

Anna's chest puffed up and she was full of rage. John didn't know if he was frightened or glad. She stepped even closer toward him. He prepared himself to be hit or screamed at some more, but instead, she sighed.

She turned away from him, slowly deflating, before she went to sit on the settee. John watched as she took in a slow breath. She didn't speak. Instead, she sat there silent and still, almost as though she was a ghost.

His heart ached for her, for him, and for their son they had lost. He quietly stepped forward. He remembered the rage she had that morning and the way she had cut into him with her words saying how she had been there, obviously reminding him how he hadn't been.

He slowly took a seat in the car across from her. His hands folded together in his lap.

"Do you hate me?" He asked her. Her eyes shot up from her spot to him. Her eyes remained on him for a brief moment, before it seemed it was too hard for her and they moved away yet again. "Do you?"

"I did," she then admitted so quietly that he was almost sure he had heard her wrong. "I hated you." She said louder.

It hurt more than John expected it to when he heard those words. But his heart ached even worse when Anna continued,

"But then…I realized you weren't to blame. I was. So…." Her voice grew small again, "I hate myself. I'm the one to blame."

To be continued...