Never did she imagine the day would come when she would find herself standing in a department store on a Saturday afternoon wishing that Lieutenant James Dempsey would just hurry up and decide between two almost identical kettles. Yet here she is, six months pregnant, hungry, her back starting to scream at her to sit down, nodding as he holds one up and grins at her, announcing his decision.
"Has to be this one, Harry." He starts to reach again for the one he's just discarded but she stops him, her hand on his arm.
"That one's fine. We just need to replace the kettle that broke, Dempsey, I'm not sure it needs quite this level of consideration." She shrugs and keeps her hand on his arm, leaning in against him just a little, trying to shift a tiny bit of weight off her feet and onto him. "Go and pay for it. I'll wait here, I need to sit down for a minute."
"You okay?" As ever at the slightest mention of her needing to rest, a frown starts to crease his forehead and he enters worry mode. God help him when she has to give birth.
"I don't know if you've noticed but um…" She points down at her belly and smiles. "I'm six months pregnant. I'm going to need to sit down occasionally. I'm fine, would you just go and buy the bloody kettle so we can go and have some lunch?"
He heads towards the tills and she finds a seat to wait for him, sighing gratefully as she sits down. She watches as a woman tries to keep a small boy away from anything breakable, his little hands seemingly wanting to grab anything within his reach, his thick dark hair reminding her of Dempsey's and making her smile. She finds herself thinking often about what their baby, their child, might look like, as impossible as she knows it is to guess. From feeling so inexplicably certain they were having a boy in the beginning, she now feels the absolute opposite, for no reason other than from the moment she felt the baby start to move she started to picture a little girl. Girl or boy, the last few weeks have found her looking forward to the little good morning nudges from within, the tiny kicks that she wishes so much would get stronger so Dempsey could feel them too.
"Harry?" She's so lost in thought that it takes a few seconds when she looks up to realise who it is standing in front of her, looking rightly hesitant about saying hello.
"Susannah...hi. How are you?" Her natural politeness takes over and she asks how her former friend is doing almost instinctively, not missing the look of surprise that crosses Susannah's face.
"Oh...I'm fine, actually, thank you. How are you? Oh...gosh, you're…" Susannah pauses, clearly having noticed what is no longer able to be hidden under her coat as she sits on the bench in front of her, and then she smiles tentatively. "You're pregnant, Harry."
"I am, yes." She nods and rests her hand gently on her belly, unable to contain her smile, despite who it's aimed at. "A little over six months."
"Wow, congratulations. You look fantastic, really." Susannah pauses, sighing faintly. "I'm really happy for you. I know you probably won't believe that, but I am, truly. I hope you know I'm sorry, for-"
"For sleeping with my husband? As it happens, you did me the biggest favour imaginable. If I hadn't come home that day to find the two of you in my bed, who knows how much longer I might have wasted in a marriage to a man who turned out to be a cheating slimeball." She's not upset or angry with Susannah anymore because it no longer matters, especially considering she's happier now than she ever thought she could be. The complete betrayal of a friendship that predated her marriage by a long time is really the only thing that still hurts.
"Well, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear we're no longer together. He left me for someone else almost a year ago, so I suppose I got my just desserts, as they say." Susannah's gaze drops, once again landing on her belly before she looks back up. "I should go. I'm...I'm really glad you're well, Harry, I-"
Susannah stops talking, her attention caught by Dempsey who has reappeared at her side. He seems to sense the vaguely strained atmosphere and takes her hand to help her stand up from the bench.
"Up and at 'em, Mrs D!" He smiles softly at her and her free hand comes to rest on his chest as she smiles back, trying to silently reassure him that she's fine.
She simultaneously feels the urge to both walk away and to introduce him, and the latter wins. She doesn't have anything to prove to Susannah, and ultimately she's the one whose life is happy; she has a career that gives her every challenge she needs, a husband she loves and who loves her, and a baby on the way. Susannah set her sights on someone who wasn't only unavailable, he was married to her best friend, and now she has neither the man nor the friend. The friendship could never be repaired but the resentment doesn't linger now like it used to, and it's a relief, a weight lifted from her shoulders.
"I think 'up' is good enough for now. The 'at 'em' might have to wait until I've eaten lunch. Oh, Susannah, this is my husband, James." She smiles up at him, wondering if he will put two and two together when she introduces her former friend. "Honey, this is Susannah. We were...we went to school together."
"Hi, good to meet you." His response is polite but he makes no effort to engage with Susannah beyond a brief nod and a friendly smile, so she thinks he knows something is amiss, even if he hasn't quite made the full connection.
"Anyway, we really should go." She squeezes his hand and smiles at Susannah, surprising herself with how genuine the smile is, knowing that she would have struggled before to stay civil let alone to be able to give her an actual smile. "Take care, Susannah."
"You too, Harry." She and Susannah were close for long enough for her to recognise the look in her eyes right away, and she's ashamed to realise there was a time when it would have given her some satisfaction to see the regret, the hint of envy she sees there. "And congratulations again...good luck with everything."
Susannah turns and walks away and just for a second she thinks back to the days when they were friends, teenagers having fun and not even thinking about marriage or anything else beyond clothes, makeup, music...but then the black cloud of betrayal looms large as it always does, instantly dimming the light of the earlier memories. She moves to face Dempsey, her hand still resting on his chest as she smiles at him.
"Are you happy now you have your new kettle?" She leans in closer and kisses him, smiling against his lips before she pulls back. "I feel like your love of tea has finally reached the point where you might have to seriously consider renouncing your American citizenship."
"Go ahead, princess, mock all you want. You'll be singing a different tune when I'm making your camomile tea tonight." He smirks and she squeezes his hand, still firmly holding hers. "Do you want to go somewhere for some lunch?"
"No, I just want to go home. I want to take my shoes off and I can't really do that in a cafe." She starts to walk towards the door, wanting nothing more than to get home and eat. "If we go home I can sit at the table in socks and you can make me one of your ridiculously good sandwiches."
"So…" In the car he glances over at her as they sit at traffic lights and she shifts slightly in her seat. "Is Susannah another of your friends from the school for refined but wayward young ladies?"
"Actually, yes." She nods, realising he hadn't figured out who Susannah was after all. "We were friends right through school and into university."
"Did you teach her everything she knows too?" She grins at that, remembering the look on his face when she made that comment in reference to Tiffany, back in the days when he was still thrown by the very notion that she wasn't quite the angel he seemed to think she was.
"I taught her how to walk in high heels." She remembers it like it was yesterday, being somewhat baffled that her friend walked in heels like she was balancing on a tightrope, and vowing to teach her how to do it properly. "And then eight years later, in one of the oldest cliches in the book, I came home from work early one day and caught her in bed with my husband."
"Shit, Harry, that was her?" He turns into the driveway and pulls his car in behind hers, turning to her, concern in his eyes. "I got that there was something a little off between you but I had no idea."
"Yes, well, as much as she probably deserves it, introducing her as the former friend who ran off with my husband didn't feel like it would be a particularly nice thing to do." He reaches for her hand and she smiles at him. "Doesn't matter now though. He was my starter husband anyway."
"Your…" He looks at her, amused but clearly intrigued. "Starter husband?"
"You know, the one I needed to be married to in order to know exactly the kind of man I really shouldn't be married to." She smiles a little wider and squeezes his fingers. "There's no need for you to worry, you come out of this very well."
"Oh, I'm not worried, just curious." He leans across and kisses her cheek, smiling as he pulls back. "I know I'm your dream husband, honey."
"Well…" She reaches for the door handle, her stomach rumbling in a timely announcement. "Make me a really good sandwich and some tea with your shiny new kettle and I'll give you that one."
He makes good on his word and she sits at the table, shoes off, and watches him as he heads into the kitchen to make sandwiches. She yawns and forces herself to stand up, smiling when he looks sternly at her, simply for daring to move from her seat.
"Do you want me to make tea while you make the sandwiches?" She rests her hand on his back and smiles at him.
"I want you to sit down and let me do both of those things." He turns and steers her gently back to the table, his hands on her shoulders and even though he's behind her she knows he's grinning. "All I want you to do is tell me what you want on your sandwich."
"FIne." She sits back down and thinks for a second, trying to pinpoint what it might be that she craves today. It's been a few weeks of endlessly changing cravings, some that would be considered totally normal, others not so much. "Cheese, cucumber...and strawberry jam."
"Not the weirdest thing you've eaten this week." He shrugs and turns to the fridge, flipping the switch on the kettle as he passes.
He really does seem to have a knack when it comes to making a really good sandwich, even though she's not sure if it's actually possible to make a sandwich badly. She's hungrier than she realised and when he sits down at the table with her, she has to pace herself so she doesn't devour the sandwich so quickly that it brings on the inevitable heartburn. Lately she feels like her body has decided to exhibit every single pregnancy symptom in the book, every day something new.
"This is so good." She smiles at him between mouthfuls and takes a sip of tea. "Maybe we should just quit the police and open a sandwich shop or something."
"Maybe we should." He grins at her and reaches for his sandwich. "I'll make the sandwiches, you bake the cakes."
"Although I'm not sure you'd cope without your gun." She sits back in her chair, smiling at him, and she's just about to reach for her sandwich when she feels a kick more forceful than any she's felt before. "Oh! Dempsey, come here."
"Honey?" He looks confused, as well he might considering he's sitting right there and she's probably making no sense. "What's wrong?"
"Give me your hand. Quickly." She pulls her chair out from the table and grabs his arm, settling his hand on her belly, close to where she just felt something like a somersault. "I don't know if this baby agrees with your assessment of my sandwich choice or if she's siding with me, but she clearly wants her opinion heard. Just...wait."
"Come on, little peanut, say hi to your pops here, would you?" He stares hard at her belly and she smiles at the expression of pure concentration on his face. "When's it going to happen again?"
"I can't make it happen, Dempsey, we have a baby in here not a remote control car." She laughs and covers his hand with her own. "Just give it a minute."
It seems their stubborn baby decides to cut daddy some slack on this occasion because it's barely a few seconds before she feels another sharp kick directly under their hands, and when she sees the look on his face she knows he felt it too.
"Whoa!" He pulls his chair closer, his hand still on her belly and a wide smile on his face. "Is that happening all the time in there?"
"Not always quite that forcefully and not all of the time, but yes, it's happening a lot, just not hard enough for you to be able to feel it." She smiles and her fingers glide over his, their hands still together on her belly. "Until today, it seems."
"Did you know this week the baby is the size of a cauliflower?" He's still reading the books, still sweetly memorising the little details, and she thinks she did know that but she's happy to humour his efforts.
"A cauliflower with a strong pair of legs, clearly." She smiles and squeezes his hand before moving her chair again so she can carry on eating. "You know we should really start thinking about names. If I'm going to have to reject all of your slightly off the wall suggestions, it could take a while."
"Good thing we have time then because you know I'm not going to quit with those suggestions, don't you?" He grins and she knows his ideas up to now haven't been serious, but she does think it's something that once they start discussing could go on for some time.
"I know, which is why we should start soon, I think." She pauses to take a bite of her sandwich, the sharpness of the cheese and the sweet hit of the jam giving her cravings everything they need. "I really only have one criteria I won't budge on."
"Okay, now I'm curious." He takes a mouthful of tea and then smiles. "Are you about to tell me there's some crazy Winfield naming tradition that I don't know about?"
"Surprisingly not, actually." Her family does have quite the habit of bestowing far too many middle names on its children, but other than that, there are thankfully no rules she has to follow. "I just don't want anything that can be abbreviated, like mine, so no Harriet or James, no Michael or Elizabeth, no-"
"But almost everyone calls you Harry." He frowns at her and she reaches for his hand, gently squeezing his fingers before returning to her lunch. "You don't like it?"
"No, it's not that, I do like Harry, and I'm so used to it that I sometimes feel like I'm in trouble now if someone calls me Harriet." She smiles at him, aware that her request might seem odd considering they both have names that are ripe with shortening possibilities. Although even on the occasions she uses his first name he's always James to her, never any of the other variables. "I just think I'd quite like to take that possibility out of it for our child, I don't really even know why. I realise I'm being quite picky so I suppose I could let it slide for a middle name."
"I'm okay with that." He nods and she can see him thinking already, meaning he will no doubt have a list of names ready by the time he finishes his tea. "I don't think anybody has ever tried to shorten Spartacus anyway."
"Still not happening, not even for a middle name." She's almost completely certain he's joking with this one but with Dempsey nothing is ever guaranteed so she needs to make her objection very clear. "I think that would give me grounds for divorce and possibly to have you deported too so if I were you I'd drop that one entirely."
"Consider it dropped, honey." He grins and she starts to wonder if the baby will actually be born before they can agree on a name, as stubborn as they both can be.
"Smart man." She takes her last mouthful of tea and leans back in her chair, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Now finish your sandwich, I need your magic fingers."
"You do, huh?" His eyes widen slightly and she smirks at him.
"Mm, I really do..." She stands up and rests her hands on his shoulders, leaning in close, nibbling lightly on his ear. "We need to go and lie down so you can do something about this bloody backache of mine."
"You're one hell of a tease, Mrs Dempsey." He turns to look up at her and she leans down to kiss him, her hand on his neck dragging him closer, and she grins as she pulls back.
"And you love it?" She manoeuvres herself carefully into his lap and wraps her arms around him.
"Yeah…" He gives her the sweet, boyish grin that she adores. "I love it."