Ch 82: Putting the Pieces Back Together

It had only taken a couple days to pull together a plan. Ron let the family know he and Hermione would be up at Shell Cottage for a few days. Hugo was going to stay with Jean and Michael Thursday night and go to school Friday. Then the Potters would pick him up Friday evening and keep him all weekend. He'd go to The Burrow with then Sunday, and then Ron and Hermione would be home Sunday night. Molly Weasley had made some casseroles for them to simply heat up at the cottage, so they wouldn't have to do much at all. Just rest and be, as Hermione had said.

Since the day Hermione had taken off and then come back, they had still been awkward around each other. Ron was trying to understand what he should and shouldn't do to be helpful. And he was trying to give her space, but he just didn't quite know what to do. But, he decided to try to trust his instincts at least a little as he got a few things to have at the cottage for her and for them. Hermione had been struggling as well. She wanted desperately to be independent, but she really was still healing and had to still rely on Ron for things. She was looking forward to time away, but also to the change of scenery as she had been cooped up for far too long.

They apparated to the cottage Thursday morning after dropping Hugo at school with enough hugs and kisses to last him more than the few days they'd be gone. They arrived hand in hand, both a little nervous, but the wind and salty air forced relaxation into both of them before they could even open their eyes.

"Merlin, I love this place," Ron said as they walked up to the front door of the shell covered cottage.

"Me too," she smiled. "We need this fresh air and change of scenery I think."

They got their things unpacked and settled for their stay and decided to go for a brief walk along the rocky cliffs before lunch. Hermione wrestled her hair into a hair band, but it was no match for the wind and she soon had curls flying around her face. She was slightly aggravated by it, but Ron loved her this way and was unknowingly staring at her with a smile when she caught him.

"What? You know I can't handle these curls!"

"Actually," he said with a bit of a blush. "I was thinking how beautiful you looked."

"What?" she said caught off guard both by his comment and his tone of voice.

He shrugged. "Just love how your hair is wild and free. And it frames your face like a halo in one of those old pictures of saints or something. And I know it makes you mental, but I love it. It's so you – refusing to be pinned down into some pre-determined role."

She just gaped at him for a moment and then smiled. "Ok then" she said taking his hand. "I'll surrender to its powers for a few days and not worry about." He grinned.

They didn't talk much as they walked, just let the scenery melt into them. As it was late fall, the sea grasses had begun to die off for the winter, but many of plants were dazzling in brilliants hues of gold, orange and crimson. They stopped at one of the prettier bluffs that had a large boulder to block some of the wind but also had many little rocks about to throw into the sea below. They stayed there a while, chucking rocks of various sizes into the vastness of the grey, churning waters below. They spoke just a bit about which rocks to pick or birds they saw, but mostly the roar of the crashing waves, the howl of the sea wind, the piercing cry of the seabirds and the click clack of the rocks against each other as they rummaged through their choices were the only sounds. But when the growl of Ron's stomach was loud enough to be heard over the loud wind, Hermione laughed and took pity on him and they started the walk back to the cottage for lunch.

After eating, Hermione admitted she was pretty tired but didn't want to head up to bed. Deciding he could use a kip as well, Ron found some old quilts in the cupboard and bundled them both up in the hammock. Bill had hung it in the shade of the old tree when he and Fleur lived there. Somehow it managed to have a great view and yet was largely protected from the wind by angle of the large dunes. Ron figured between their body heat, the quilts and a warming charm they should be fine for a while.

Hermione was asleep almost instantly. But Ron instead lay there, his mind still churning. While he and Hermione had been sleeping in their bed all this time, it felt as if there had been a large, physical chasm between them since she had come home from St. Mungo's. He hadn't realized how empty his arms had felt without her in them, and he relished the feel of her asleep against him. He had tried to maintain reasonable expectations for himself for their time away. He knew it wouldn't magically heal all of their wounds, but he couldn't help but hope. And soon, he had dozed off holding her tightly.

Hermione woke up first, and for the first time in many weeks she didn't feel smothered by Ron's close presence. Instead, she felt safe and loved. She pondered this difference as she lay there in his arms, his soft snores as melodic as the waves against the shore. She tried to understand what it was – either in his actions or in her mental state – that made some of his actions feel loving while others felt suffocating. She hadn't yet solved that quandary when she felt him start to stir. And as always, she couldn't help but smile as before he was even conscious he instinctually pulled her closer to him in a protective way. He awoke to find her smiling at him.

"Hey," he mumbled, still shaking the sleep from his mind.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he said. "I wasn't too tired, but it's hard not to be lulled off at the seaside." Creasing his forehead a moment he asked, "Did you get enough rest?"

"I think so," she said. "For now anyway."

"Did you have anything in mind for this afternoon," he asked tentatively. "I know this trip is for us to just do nothing, but I don't want to presume you meant for that to be a joint activity the whole time."

Appreciating his intent, she said, "I appreciate that. I think maybe if I just spend some time reading and maybe writing in my journal for a bit that would be good. But, maybe you could go for a fly for a while? Then we could meet back before it starts to get dark and make supper."

"OK," he said. But his brain was churning a bit, worried at leaving her all alone in such a remote place.

"What?" she said. "I can read that face, you know," she tried to tease.

"Um, well," he stammered. "Obviously I want you to do what you need to do. That's the whole point of the weekend sort of. And it's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself. But, we are out in the middle of nowhere. And, I just worry a little bit." He closed his eyes and exhaled in defeat before adding, "But you're right. That's silly. I know you'll be fine. And I'll just go up the coast a bit."

She looked at him, realizing that he earnestly was scared to leave her alone out there. "If it frightens you, then it's not silly," she said. His eyes met hers with an expression that was a mix of relief and surprise. "Maybe we both promise to have our phones on. And I'll promise to call you if I am in any pain or if there is any problem, even if it was something I wouldn't usually call for. Would that be an acceptable compromise do you think?"

He smiled in relief. "Very acceptable. Thank you for that. I really appreciate it."

She nodded. "We're both getting there."

They slowly got out of the hammock and made their way back to the cottage. He ran up to use the loo before he went to grab a snack before heading out. She was in the kitchen making tea when he came in, carrying a small bag.

"What's that? Packing a snack?"

"No," he said with a bit of a nervous expression. "I am still trying to figure out what I should do and not do. So if this is on the suffocating side, then please tell me, and we'll forget it." She looked at him, confused, but he kept going. "Well, I just got you some things that I thought you might have wanted if you had felt up to going and searching for them. But maybe I shouldn't have, I don't know. Anyway – look through while I'm out. And if they are all wrong, then chuck 'em and we'll forget it."

With that he left the bag on the table, quickly gave her a peck on the cheek and headed out to grab his broom leaving a bewildered Hermione standing at the kitchen table. Still unsure exactly what had just happened, she took the bag and opened it. Inside was a stack of books with a note on top.

I hope something in here is helpful. And if I overstepped, then I am really sorry. But, it seemed to me that the Hermione I know would have been hunting for these if she'd had enough energy – and admittedly enough space from her hovering husband – to go find them. I haven't read them, but I hope something in one of these can help in ways I can't. Love, R

Feeling the tears fill her eyes, she tried to blink back the waterworks as she pulled out the stack of muggle and magical books. There were a dozen books there, each thoughtfully chosen for her by the man she adored. There were books on recovering from miscarriage; there were books on ectopic pregnancies; there were books on getting pregnant after age 35; there were books on postpartum depression; there were books on grief; and at the bottom of the stack there was a book on baby names.

The tears fell as she sat at the kitchen table and pulled this last book in front of her. She sniffed as she pictured Ron in muggle and magical book shops putting aside his embarrassment to search through women's reproductive health books to find something – anything – that might help the woman he loved.

Sipping her tea and trying to stem her quiet tears, she opened the book of names and realized it was a book of both magical and muggle names with their meanings listed next to them. Many, she was happy to realize, could work for a boy or a girl. She flipped through the pages, and realized she needed something to take notes. Going back up to the bedroom, she grinned in glee and surprise when she saw a new muggle spiral notebook, a blank journal, a stack of blank parchment and an array of pens and quills all laid out on the bed. There was also a note.

I thought you might need at least some of this, but I didn't want to push my luck. Love, R

Taking what she needed she headed back to the kitchen. But before she returned to the books, she found her phone and sent a text to Ron.

I hope you keep pushing your luck, because you seem to be absolutely right. They are perfect. Enjoy your fly. I love you, H

Having never flown with a need to be able to reach a cell phone before, Ron had pondered a bit before deciding it was best in his back right pocket where he could get it easily and not let go of the broom. But, he was still startled a bit when he felt a buzz. Worried there was a problem, he had turned the broom around before he had even gotten the phone all the way out of his pocket. But he sighed with relief when he saw her text.

He tried to relax, knowing both that she was ok and that she was willing to text him for anything. With that in mind, he sped up on his broom and raced into the wind, tipping and rolling through old auror drills. It felt good to go through the rugged drills, and as usual, flying along the shore allowed his mind to clear and relax. He stayed out as long as light allowed, both because he was enjoying himself but also because he wanted to give Hermione the alone time she wanted. By the time he landed outside the cottage, the sun was almost down completely, and he could see Hermione making supper through the kitchen window. Glad that she looked content, he headed inside.

"You're back," she smiled. "I had just started to fix supper."

"Hi yourself," he said as he kissed her. "I'm rather nasty at the moment, so I definitely need to go get cleaned up before dinner."

"I'd say so," she laughed as she ran her hands through his wind swept hair that was full of salt and sand. "You go take a shower and I'll put a salad together to go with this casserole your mum sent."

"Perfect," he said as he nicked a roll on the way out of the kitchen.

When he came down a while later, Hermione grinned at his sight. His hair was still wet and slightly mussed up, and he had thrown an old Weasley jumper over his shirt to cut out the chill.

"Hi," she said, surprised at the sudden feeling of shyness that had crept up.

"Smells great in here. What can I do to help?" he asked.

"The smells are all thanks to your mum. But you can pour the wine while I finish the dressing for the salad."

The outside was completely dark, but the kitchen was warm and cozy with the fireplace and lanterns lit inside. They sat at the kitchen table and Hermione surprised him.

"Can I propose a toast?"

"Of course."

"To us, and to figuring out a way to make it through the first incredibly difficult challenge of our married life. I wouldn't wish the last two months or so on anyone, but I can't imagine how much worse it would have been if we hadn't lived through it together."

He nodded, holding her eyes with his. Then in a voice that almost cracked, "To us."

He had just filled his plate when Hermione said, "The books you left today were wonderful. Thank you for that. I guess it really does show how much I wasn't myself that it didn't even occur to me to look for answers or explanations in a book."

He smiled. "Well, I didn't think of it for a while either. But, eventually it struck me that something was missing and I couldn't put my finger on it. But then after – well – after our day when we were finally talking about everything I started to think about how you hadn't been reading much. I dunno. Just didn't seem right."

"Well, you were right. I had a hard time figuring out where to start."

"So, where did you start?"

"Baby names," she said as she put her fork down to look at him. Then she paused a moment before asking, "Are you ok – well – can we talk about this now or would you rather wait?"

"No," he said quickly, "now is ok. I'm not sure it would get easier to talk about if we put it off."

"It's like I've heard you tell Hugo, you have to move through the sad to get to the happy."

"Who knew I was so wise?" he teased.

"Well, ok," she said fiddling with her napkin a bit. "I really liked the book, especially since the names were a mix of magical and muggle names. But, I really loved how the meanings were listed."

"I thought you'd like that."

"There seemed to be a lot of names that would work for both genders," she commented nervously.

"Good. I knew there were names that might work, but I just couldn't think of any of the top of my head."

"Did you have any ideas?"

"No," he admitted. "Not really. I hadn't thought too much about the names itself, just that having a name seemed like a good idea."

She nodded. "What are you thinking we would do with the name? I mean, obviously we will use it to refer to our baby. But, do you want to tell people the name? I don't know. I haven't quite figured all of that out."

"Dunno. I mean…it's just…oh fuck, Hermione, I really don't know. It's so personal, you know? I don't see us sending out announcements or anything, but I don't think it should be a secret either."

"I agree," she said. "And so you know – I don't know how to do this either, Ron. We're wrestling through this together. And all we have to do here is figure out what works for us, and well, for our baby too I suppose. I guess everything else will fall into place."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments before start to talk. "Do you, I mean, ugh, I don't want to upset you by saying this-" he sighed as he put his hand over his eyes a moment.

"It's ok, just say what's on your heart," she said as she touched his forearm softly.

"Ok. Ok," he nodded. "I know the healer said that there wasn't really anything to bury. But after you said that you'd gone to the cemetery the other day I started to wonder if maybe a little headstone or plaque or something might be something we might think about."

"I love that idea," she said as she wiped some tears from her eyes.

"Good. Then, that's what we'll do."

"So now we just need to think about a name then. You've never gotten to name a child before. Any ideas or things you want to be sure are in there?"

"Not really sure. Maybe if you share some of the names you liked we can go from there."

"Well, I really liked one magical name that I hadn't thought of…how about Rune?"

"Like runes, runes? The secret markings?" he chuckled. "You would pick a name for obscure brilliant people."

"Yes runes, runes. You don't like it?"

"Didn't say that, just didn't expect it."

"I like how it means secret. This little one was a secret. Sort of like magic for me. There and I didn't even know it."

"Ok, I like that part. What else?"

"Piper?"

"Like the musical instrument?"

"Yeah. I just like the sound of that one more than the meaning really."

"Agree with that. Seems like we could name the kid Violinist or Pianist too."

"Ok, ok, so maybe not Piper."

"How about Rowen?"

"Like the tree or like Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Both really."

"Hmm. Got to think about that one, though any child of yours could easily be in Ravenclaw. But what about Gryffin, as any child of ours could be in Gryffindor too?"

"Didn't have that on my list. Not bad. Or maybe Quinn?"

"Quinn?"

"Means the fifth. Since the baby is the fifth in our family just seemed to fit. And it's a cute name."

"And then if we have more we could call them Sixth and Seventh," he teased.

"That's big talk coming from someone with a Septimus in the family," she scoffed back.

"Oh. Hadn't thought of that," he admitted.

They bantered back and forth for a while, sometimes serious and sometimes laughing. They ruled out names that Hermione had liked in the book that Ron had known in real life to be associated with nefarious characters such as Lucian or Avery as well as names related to war or battle like Ares or Camulus. They laughed at different people they'd known with funny names, wondering what the parents had been thinking. Ron thought "Romilda" was the worst, but admitted it could be since she'd been connected to his poisoning. Hermione laughed over a "Theckla Ruby" she'd known in the States, but Ron didn't believe Theckla could possibly have been a real name.

Eventually they had narrowed it down to a few names they both liked, as well as a few one or the other wasn't quite ready to get rid of yet. Predictably, Hermione had made a new list.

"Well, that leaves us with Aarya, Aslan, Esme, Fabian, Flynn, Jean, Kaden, Marley, Riley, Rory, Rowen and Rune." She pronounced. "Although I still think Jean should go."

"As I feel about Fabian," he added. "They are good family names, but maybe not right for this child."

"Deal," she said, crossing them both off her list.

"I am ok with most of those, though I have to confess that Esme is low on the list."

"Yeah, I like the meaning more than the name itself."

"Cross it off then," he insisted with a smile, and she did.

"Hmm. I still love Rune even though I know you don't. If you agree to Rune as the middle name then I am ok with any of the remaining ones as the first."

"Really? You'd trust me to just pick?" he said, honestly taken aback.

"This baby is as much yours as mine, Ron. You're the father, of course I trust you."

"Yeah, with guy stuff, but with picking our child's name?"

"Yes. Of course. If you want one of those more than the others, go for it."

Ron studied the list, not quite sure what to say. After a while, she realized it was going to take some time, so she got up to let him consider the names while she made more tea. When she came back, he said confidently, "Well, I have it narrowed to three. Can you pick from there? Or at least let's pick together from there?"

"Yeah," she smiled, looking down to see he had written three possible combinations on the paper.

Marley Rune Granger-Weasley

Riley Rune Granger-Weasley

Rory Rune Granger-Weasley

She looked back up. "Granger-Weasely? I was thinking just Weasely."

"Why? You go by Granger-Weasely."

"I guess I just have a traditional streak in me somewhere. Let's go with just Weasely."

"Alright. If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do. Ok then – how about the first part then?"

She smiled and wrote out a name on the page. "Rory Rune Weasley"

He nodded, feeling sad and content all at once. "Rory Rune Weasley. And what does our Rory Rune's name mean again?"

"That's the best part," she grinned. "Well, Rory means child of the red head and Rune can mean secret, so in my book it means the secret child of the red head."

"It does not!" he laughed. "You made that up."

"Honest!" she protested, giggles breaking through. "Here – check me. You were the one who bought this book."

"Well, what do you know," he scoffed as he looked it up. "Should have known better than to doubt you. It is pretty funny though."

"Yeah," she said with her eyes getting calmer. "But I like that not all the emotions around Rory Rune are sad ones. Glad Rory brought us laughter and fun too."

"Hadn't thought of that," he said, taking her hand in his. "Now I like it even better."

The rest of their days had gone much as the first, a morning walk together followed by lunch, a rest and then some time for them to be alone a while before supper. Aside from deciding on the name, they hadn't had too many deep or emotional talks. But somehow, just the time alone together was proving to be the healing balm they both needed. They were interacting more as equals again instead of caregiver and patient, and they were back to just enjoying each other's company.

It was Saturday evening, and they were fixing their last dinner at the cottage. Hermione was laughing at Ron as he was wearing these absurd goggles while cutting an onion so that it didn't make his eyes burn and tear. They'd found them in a forgotten drawer in the pantry when searching for some bowls, and Ron laughed remembering when his dad had found them at a muggle boot sale. He'd bought them for Fleur, who would have no more worn those goggles than walk to China. They'd played cards earlier in the day and had decided the loser would have to wear the goggles to chop onions for dinner. Ron was hamming it up, but he didn't quite realize that Hermione had snapped a few pictures to remember how handsome he was in that particular eyewear. After caramelizing the onions, they cooked up the chicken and vegetables they'd brought and prepared a delicious dinner. They were settling into easy conversation when Ron got quieter for a moment.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "Just not ready to return to the real world tomorrow. It's always so easy when it's just the two of us. Somehow work and family and routine and chores – it all just gets in the way sometimes."

She watched him carefully, considering her words before she spoke. "I know. I've thought about that a lot the past few days. But, it's the good stuff, you know? I wouldn't trade it in the end. I want the dinners with Hugo and time with your dad marveling over muggle wonders. And as much as I may have overdone it, I do love my job and the work with the foundation. I just need to figure out how to maintain that ever-elusive work life balance."

Ron sighed. "Of course I can't argue with any of that. Still doesn't mean I am excited to go back."

"Me either," she admitted.

They were quiet for a bit, and then she asked, "Speaking of the real world, when do you think you might go back to work? I really am ok to be left alone now, I hope you realize that."

"I do. I do," he promised. "I thought I might start back one at a time. As much for my own sanity as any need to care for you at home."

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Thought I would go by the shop Monday. I've been doing a lot of the reading and paperwork stuff from home, but there are definitely some things I need to get with George on as we ramp up for the holidays. Then, once that feels a bit settled, I'll pop back up to Hogwarts. McGonagall doesn't like me starting up until after Halloween anyway, so I haven't really lost out on anything there."

"What about the academy?"

"Um, I had an idea about that really."

"What?"

"I was thinking I might not teach until after the semester. But I want to do some work with our favorite squib policeman to see what I could develop as far as cross training between the forces. You know – see what's there to learn from each other. The search for Mrs. Carrington's family taught me a lot. Watching you use the laptop to search things, well, I think there is a heck of a lot to learn there that could be applied to the aurors."

"That's brilliant, Ron."

"I mentioned it to Coppedge a while back, and he seemed interested. Actually, he didn't think any of the aurors would be interested in what he had to say, but I assured him he was wrong on that one."

"I would hope so. Seems like even people who were sucked into all of that magic-is-better rubbish have had time to get their heads on straight over the past twenty years! Even the biggest idiots can learn a little in two decades."

"One would hope," he chuckled. He took a sip of his wine, thought for a moment, and then said. "Actually, reformed souls makes me think of something I've been wanting to discuss a bit."

"Draco?" she sighed.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I hope you know I had no clue the Tarragon Foundation was remotely connected to him. Honestly Ron, the whole thing was so surreal. I was in all of this pain, and then he walked in and I honestly wondered if I was hallucinating because it was all so weird – like my worlds were all colliding. I couldn't believe it when I learned he had brought me to St. Mungo's."

"Oh I know that. Don't get me wrong – I was totally flabbergasted at the time, but I never thought you had been sneaking off to secretly study Malfoy's charitable works."

"I sent him a thank you letter," she admitted. "A week or so ago. I sent one to him, and then I sent another to the woman at the foundation, who is completely muggle by the way, letting her know what had happened and how much I appreciated her help and understanding and apologized for causing such a ruckus."

"Seriously? You apologized for accidentally almost dying and disturbing their schedule or something?" he asked in disbelief. "Hermione, you shouldn't apologize for that. It wasn't your fault!"

"I know it wasn't my fault. And it certainly wasn't on purpose. But I was still sorry about it. They were so gracious in showing me the ropes of how everything could work, but I know I didn't absorb even a quarter of it because I was-"

"bleeding out?" he suggested.

"Well, yeah. I guess that's accurate. But I was going to say distracted."

"I find bleeding almost to death distracting too," he said.

"Don't be grouchy about it."

"I'm not grouchy. I just don't like you minimizing how bad it was or apologizing for it. You almost died. I'm not talking abstractly. I am talking about you were within fifteen minutes of not being here anymore. And while I know you know how close you came on an intellectual level, I don't think you are grasping it in the same way I am when I picture you in that bed, shaking, convulsing, whiter than the sheets, cold as ice and healers running frantically around. If you had that picture in your mind, I have to believe – or at least hope – that you wouldn't minimize it as an unfortunate distraction you have to apologize for." While trying to stay calm, Ron was so emotional about this he didn't realize he was gripping his fists or gritting his teeth as he spoke. His eyes were glassy, but not overflowing with tears. Instead fear and frustration radiated off of him in undeniable waves.

Hermione watched him carefully, trying to honor the experience he'd had in all of this and not take his words as a confrontation. She waited until she was sure he was done before starting to talk.

"I don't know what I looked like, Ron. And I am so, so sorry that you had to see me in that state – to be so scared of losing me. And while I don't know what it was like for you, I do have a very good idea of how it feels to sit at St. Mungo's fearing you are about to lose the person you love and not being able to do a damn thing about it. And when it was you in the bed who they weren't sure would make it, it shook me to my core. And I never wanted to have that experience again. And to know you had to do that – well, I am so, so sorry. And I am not saying that to apologize for it but instead to just try to express how sad I am that you had to go through that."

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink, so she kept talking.

"I hope you know that I really don't dismiss it as a small thing. I simply wrote that note to the foundation as a way to try to get myself back to a professional relationship with her. She is someone who can help me a lot. We won't become best friends or anything, she'll never know about magic or that we are behind the foundation. But I do want to keep up with her. I can learn so much from what she's done that I don't want to cut her out. But, I want to check with you – are you ok with me still working with the Tarragon Foundation now that we know how it is connected to the Malfoys? I think he is largely hands off, and my work would largely be with the organization staff, not him. But if that in any way makes you uncomfortable, please let me know and I will make it a non-issue."

Ron ran his hands through his hair again. "It is hard for me to believe that I am at a place in my life where Malfoy keeps crossing my path, but it seems I am here anyway. And I really, really want to do this right – to forgive and take the high road and be ok with all of it. And before this whole thing happened I could at least feel smug about it knowing that I had the upper hand even if I knew I still had work to do. But then he goes and saves the life of my wife who I love desperately. I mean, shite! How can I not give the ferret a chance, right? How much of a prat would that make me!?"

She chuckled despite herself, which caused him to laugh too. "It really is unbelievable that it was him, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah. But pretty much everything about our lives seems unbelievable, so I guess it's just par for the course."

"So?"

"So, yeah – go for it. Of course you should still work with that foundation. And I will just have to grow up even if I fight it every step of the way." He paused and then added, "I sent him a thank you as well, you know? But sending a thank you note for saving my wife's life seems rather pithy, even for me."

"I'd hoped you had. But if it bothers you, then you should do something about it."

"What? Like make a donation to his foundation or something?"

"Possibly," she considered. "But maybe you could think of something that would be meaningful to him that only you could give him. I suspect money wouldn't be the top of that list."

Ron stood up to take the dishes to the sink and to pace a bit while he thought. "It is so aggravating when you are right like that, you know?"

"Sorry?" she tried to apologize with a smug smile.

"Ugh. I know what I need to do. I just really, really, REALLY don't want to do it."

"Well, I don't know specifically what you feel you have to do. But, if it is that uncomfortable, then you don't have to do it. Maybe just take some steps closer to whatever it is."

He leaned against the sink, dish towel over his shoulder looking at her. "Would you help me do it?"

"Of course," she said. "But it would be a lot easier if I knew what it was."