The Wonders of His Love

'The wonders of His love, the wonders of his love…'

Siegfried intoned as he grasped her hand all the tighter in his. Her fingers were cold and small, in stark contrast to his warmer, larger palm, but still soft despite her days in his kitchen, scrubbing, mending and forever on the move.

The carol rolled around the Church. The irony was not lost on him; Joy to the World!

Mrs Hall was clearly the opposite of joyful, sniffling delicately and trying to wipe away her tears surreptitiously. He would quite happily string her Edward up with the Christmas decorations, or dress him as a fairy and sit him, very forcefully, on the top of the tree. Although he had never met the young man in question, this was not the first time Siegfried had known Edward's actions to make his mother cry… and that was frankly unforgivable at the best of times, and intolerable at Christmas.

There was irony too: 'The wonders, the wonders of His love…'

Oh, there was no wonder there. Siegfried was well aware of his love for Mrs Hall… for Audrey. She had intrigued him for years now. Initially she was a puzzle, and he had always enjoyed a puzzle. She was beyond all things kind and caring, and yet there was a core of iron that kept him, Tristan, and now James, very firmly in line, on time and exactly where she wanted them. He had never been sassed, glared at, or doted on in quite the same way before and he found it a heady mix of challenge and affection that was soon irresistible to him. Different, but irresistible. Evelyn had been gentle and accommodating, and he loved her for it. As a man used to getting his own way, the charming and dutiful country doctor's daughter had been a gentle reed, happy to bend to his immobile will.

His immobile will – more irony! – Audrey had made him see that. He had always been a stickler for doing things his way, the right way. Born set in his ways, Tristan had once complained, but that had all changed now…well, sometimes. She challenged him, pushed back and while she offered compromise, she expected it of him too, and through it he found that his was not always the only, or even the best, way to get things done.

Intrigue and growing respect for the force of nature that kept his home had taken its inevitable course and turned to admiration and friendship early on in their relationship. Oh, she had stated as The Good Housekeeper – keeping to her quarters or the back of the house, eating alone in the kitchen and retiring to read or some such in the evenings. She was capable, competent and while respectfully compliant to his ways, also ready to change things where she felt they could be improved in the running of the house – something that he was happy to give over to her care so long as she stayed in budget and didn't ask him about things he couldn't care less about. As long as it was running well, he had other things to be doing – they came to that understanding very early on.

Six weeks in, after a few tantrums over lost belongings and in her words 'an exasperating lack of general organisation' on his part, all steadily handled and talked down by her wit, sass and no-nonsense demeanour, their rapport established, she asked if he had ever thought of taking breakfast in the bright kitchen, rather than the formal dining room at the other end of the house. Frankly, she said, it was a long way for her to cart food for one person at the beginning of her busy mornings. He knew that for a moment he had looked at her, frankly stupefied by the very idea, before tucking his newspaper under his arm, picking up his plate and coffee cup, and leading her to the kitchen where he plonked himself, unceremoniously, at the table. Initially she served him as she bustled around the kitchen and he found he liked reading sections of his newspaper aloud and discussing the events of the day with her. He appreciated her dry humour, but also her sense of the community and the World they lived in. It took two weeks before he realised she wasn't eating with him, and on enquiring, found that she breakfasted earlier and thought it above her station to share his table, for all that she was thankful he had agreed to be served in the kitchen. Again he was nonplussed for a second or two, before standing and striding over to the kettle and pot, fixing her a cup of tea and placing it firmly opposite his plate. He manoeuvred her by the shoulders - so thin, and the first time he had informally touched her – to sit, ignoring the jolt that ran through him.

So, she had begun to breakfast with him, saying that if he wanted 20 minutes of her morning anyway, she may as well make it count for her, too. When he asked her to join him for dinner some weeks later, even he wasn't entirely sure what he had meant. He only knew that he enjoyed her company and adored taking her beyond the sardonic smile into a full out laugh – something that he had only accomplished a handful of times but intended to enjoy more often. When he returned from his rounds to find two settings at the dinner table, even if she had left Tristan's empty place between them, he found that he was both mildly perturbed and yet satisfied with the change. It had taken several meals, and Tristan's vacationing return from school, for her to meet his eyes over the dinner table, for all her dominance in other areas of his house.

Slowly, so slowly she had moved into other areas of his life about the home. Always led by him, never overstepping, but she had come to be in every part of his life at the house – taking on some surgery matters as well as the house, accepting his invitations to join him and Tristan at the pub or other social occasions as she felt they were appropriate, and then eventually joining him on his lonely evenings for a game of scrabble or some-such. He, in turn, had started to attend church again. Something he hadn't done since Evelyn.

And at the same speed he felt that she had slipped inside his heart. At the beginning he had felt that he would always be Evelyn's husband, and anything else would be a betrayal. But nothing that Audrey had done, no aspect of his life that she had become a part of, felt like a betrayal because it was all so different to how he and Evelyn interacted and therefore how he loved her. Audrey had become important, and then essential to him, and with each incremental growth in their relationship, he had asked himself if it was ok… and found that it was. Love had grown, just as fruitful, but tended by distinct interactions, and a different type of tenderness, and so not competing or combative to his battered mournful heart, just different and lovely. He adored her, would do anything for her…

…even let her go. The carol came to a close and she dropped his hand quite forcefully. He wasn't offended. As much as he loved her, he understood her, and her integrity would not allow her to continue for either of their sakes. He wasn't sure how she felt about him. Sometimes there was something in her gaze, in their interactions but… if she thought of him at all she gave him nothing to work with, and it was that same integrity, the respect that he had for her, that kept him from pushing his luck. He loved their life, and he would not jeopardise it for more if that wasn't what she wanted.

And so, as they turned to exit the church and he reached to tuck her hand under his arm, he turned his mind to think of Dorothy. He could move on from Evelyn now, that much he knew, and they both cared for Audrey, so they had that in common already. The fact that all their conversations led back to Audrey was mildly perturbing… but maybe getting in a bit of practice and showing the World he could reconnect would be a good thing, even if nothing more came of it. He had enjoyed meeting Dorothy, and had no compunction about getting to know her better, but could she fit into their lives? Did he even want her to? Fundamentally, when it came down to it, he was well aware that Audrey… Mrs Hall, was the only woman who could put up with him.