'Please Harry can we just leave all this until the morning I'm so tired?' was Ruth's half-hearted attempt to convince him that she was talking about their packing, rather than her now waning courage to tell him about the idea that she'd been mulling over since they'd left the beach. In what had once been their torturous I really don't know how to put this into words relationship, Harry had come a country mile from just listening to the cogs that were turning in Ruth's head and knew only too well, that whatever it was that was bothering her was important.

'Come on Ruth, I know there's something that's worrying you so just tell me,' he gently urged her, as with the sound of a car in the distance, she readjusted herself against him for the umpteenth time and sighed.

He leant over her and turned on the radio, he didn't know why other than he hoped it would sooth her.

'And now for lovers everywhere,' said the faceless announcer, as strains of something that Harry vaguely recognised caused Ruth to smile into his shoulder.

'Would a cup of hot chocolate help?' And her smile immediately broadened, 'I won't be long,' earned him a kiss.

Common sense, at least for a few moments was resumed and ten minutes later Harry was sitting up in bed and leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him, sipping his own hot chocolate in readiness for the long haul as it generally was when Ruth declared that she'd been thinking. Fortunately or not, depending from whose point of view you looked at it, the love of his life, now fiancée, had moved and was sitting with her legs crossed in front of him in what she liked to call her comfortable pyjamas but he'd secretly nicknamed The Berlin Wall. Now combine that with her gently blowing across her mug of hot chocolate in an attempt to cool it down and Harry's resolve to be patient was melting, literally. As sleep clearly wasn't an option and Ruth appeared to be still struggling to decide on the opening salvo of whatever it was that she was going to fire at him, he threw caution to the wind and decided to make the most of the opportunity by enjoying himself. Move over darling would have been appropriate, but then Harry had no control over what the presenter was playing, as he edged himself slightly nearer until his toes were able to reach the inside of Ruth's legs, at which point her breath hitched. Gaining in confidence, he then proceeded to create what he knew to be electricity to all points north of Ruth's knees that would eventually render her speechless.

She knew exactly what Harry was doing, and if why and what she had on her mind could have waited until the morning, and this was in fact their last night in Yorkshire, she'd have abandoned her chat and to hell with it. Harry had in her opinion beautiful feet. In fact apart from his still somewhat frustrating nature, she thought that every inch of Harry was perfect, but this had to stop before she completely capitulated, especially as he'd just added to her torture by abandoning his hot chocolate and was licking his lips.

Closing her eyes to avoid being completely sucked in by his that were now burning with intent, she told him what she imagined Harry would consider a ridiculous suggestion, that they stay in Yorkshire for a while longer.

'Go on?' he asked her, as his toes temporarily paused on their journey towards their objective and he prayed whatever it was that she was going to say, would be quick and less painful than him having to stop.

'It's what I've always dreamt about Harry, us to be somewhere like this. It's Bronte Country, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre and wall to wall - stop it Harry, romance to die for and I've barely seen any of it and I bet you haven't either?'

To his regret he hadn't and wasn't likely to as Ruth continued to hang on to his foot, but he was still confused as to why she'd got herself into such a state about such a simple suggestion, until for whatever reason the penny dropped, as did his intent, and he realised where this was going.

'We have to live somewhere Harry so why not here and it would make such a difference to your Father, even you must realise that?'

There she'd said it.

The sheer passion in her voice and the fact that her chest was still heaving, was so reminiscent of a younger Ruth when he'd first met her and he didn't want to destroy that.

'Have you been talking to him, has he said something?' he asked her, hoping that it didn't sound like an accusation.

'Well not in as many words although we did have a chat the other evening,' she told him, waiting for an outburst that didn't come before continuing, 'but I didn't need to Harry, it's just so bloody obvious that he's lonely and you're his son Harry, he loves you.'

'Not a very good one Ruth, I've kept away from here for years,' gave her the opportunity that she'd been praying for.

'Only in body Harry, not in your Father's mind, look at these,' she told him, handing him the dozens of newspaper cuttings and a photograph of Harry in his army uniform, that his father had shown her when Harry had popped down to the village when they'd run out of wine.

Ruth knew that this was the moment that she had to back off and let Harry absorb what she'd told him and was looking at, so as he sat there turning pages in a scrapbook that his father had compiled over years, she crawled back up the bed until she was curled into him and waited for either an outburst or for him to relax.

'My mother was already ill when I left home Ruth, but I was young and headstrong and ignored my father's plea to stay. I wanted to join the army and well you know the rest,' he finally managed.

Ruth did. The lack of knowledge about Harry's mother had been the reason that she'd rung Malcolm, having eliminated every other possible scenario as to why Harry hadn't talked about or been to see his father in years. Since she'd opened that wretched file she'd known that Harry's entire adult life had been one long guilt trip, but now she knew when it had started. This wasn't about lost colleagues, it related to someone who was very much alive and so much more than that, he was family. Besides which if his father had ever felt the need to be angry with Harry then he'd forgiven him years ago, and to Ruth who had lost her father when she'd been young that meant everything.

'I'll need you to be with me when I talk to him Ruth, or I'll struggle,' Harry eventually told her, turning back the covers so that she could get back into bed and into his arms which was where this had all started.

'I trust you're not suggesting that we live with him?' Was a question that he knew he didn't have to ask, but if he had any chance of getting to sleep then he needed to lighten the mood, and making love to Ruth suddenly felt a somewhat inappropriate route to oblivion. He just needed to hold her and to prove to her how grateful he was that she'd forced him to face up to and climb over this final hurdle. It was way past midnight and knowing that his father would be out in his garden at the crack of dawn and that Ruth had promised to cook him his breakfast, he needed to make Ruth smile before she went to sleep.

'You do realise that it gets very cold here in the Winter Ruth?' he whispered into her hair as he spooned himself in behind her and closed his eyes.


Ruth slept far better than Harry did and at six he was wide awake and listening to his father's footfall on the stairs. Like clockwork the kettle went on, his morning tea was made and then the door that took him into his beloved garden was opened and closed behind him. Harry dragged himself out of bed, went to the bathroom and then stood by the window and watched. With a cup of tea in one hand and the garden hose in the other, a routine that for his father began every single day was underway. There was something about the sheer simplicity and repetitiveness of what his father was doing that tore at Harry's heart strings, and as the tears came he reverted to the young man who had left the family home all those years ago. Tears that should have been shed when his mother had died but weren't, as he'd stood ramrod straight beside his father at her funeral. What an idiot he'd been. Ruth was right and he loved her all the more because of it. Assuming that Ruth was still asleep, he pulled on a jumper against the early morning chill and headed down the stairs, to make himself some coffee and then his peace with his father.

Ruth might have slept well, but she was painfully aware as to how difficult this moment was going to be for Harry and she'd been on high alert ever since he'd got up. She'd followed him into the kitchen and two loving arms enveloped him from behind and held him close.

'Kiss me Harry,' she told him as he turned around and made an attempt to wipe his eyes. 'No kiss me as though it's the last time,' she pushed him.

It was a kiss filled with emotion and with passion and said thank you and Ruth was as determined as he was to make it last.

'Now go out into the garden and tell your father how much you love him,' she told him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek when they finally pulled apart.

Determined to leave them to it Ruth headed back upstairs to get washed and dressed, but the temptation to peep far outweighed her self-control. Harry and his father were deep in conversation and James had stopped watering for a moment and was pointing into the distance across the moors. As she watched, Harry turned his head to look at his father and was laughing, a shared memory perhaps or something that Harry hadn't known about. Ruth was transfixed. So much for planning to leave them to it, the child in her and the desire to be part of this far outweighed the sensible part of Ruth's brain and she fairly fled down the stairs and out into the garden.

They couldn't help but hear her coming, her hair was all over the place, she was still wearing her pyjamas and she clearly hadn't even stopped to make herself a drink.

'I understand that you two are going house hunting,' James said winking at her, and Harry wondered if perhaps his father was appreciating the fairly vibrating Berlin Wall that was standing in front of them, more than he should have been.


Two months later with Catherine due to arrive in a week's time.

Harry and Ruth were on their way back from London having secured a buyer for Harry's house. The small amount of furniture and the bits and bobs that they'd chosen to keep, were trundling along in a small van, somewhere on the motorway and several miles behind them. Unlike the last time that they'd made this journey the atmosphere in the car was relaxed and positive and as he'd done the last time, but with a different need, Harry pulled off the road and stopped.

'Nothing ever changes here Ruth, that's why I love it so much,' he told her, with a certainty and purpose that had been missing the first time, as she stood in front of him and he wrapped his arms around her. The scenery had changed, as the year had moved from summer into early autumn, but the bones of the landscape were the same and would be for generations to come. Through adversity and pain, they'd become part of that, they belonged.

Prior to them leaving Yorkshire, they'd spent a torturous few weeks visiting every estate agent within a twenty mile radius and had failed to find anything that they liked. The houses had been either too big, too small, or in some cases were so far off the beaten track that if they'd needed help they'd have had to call CO19 Harry had muttered. Adding to the stress was that they'd planned the wedding for the late autumn and even the ever energetic Ruth was beginning to flag. It was on a Sunday, a day of rest James had told them, they were supposed to be retired so relax for heaven's sake. She and Harry were out in the garden, her relaxing her mind if not her body by weeding between James's beloved rows of vegetables and Harry wondering how much longer he could get away with before he offered to help, when James appeared with the tea.

'What about this?' he asked Harry, digging deep into his pocket and producing what was a very old and crumpled newspaper clipping.

'Be with you in a second,' Ruth called over to them, as she gathered the latest pile of weeds together and wiped her brow before heading over to the compost bin.

'She looks well at home in my garden doesn't she?' he told Harry who was gazing at Ruth, oblivious to what he'd been given. 'Listen to me you stubborn young bugger,' he continued, when Harry said 'absolutely not this was his home.'

He either went now while he was still fit enough to do it or it would be out in a box, besides which he'd done some searching of his own and there was a nice little cottage in the village close to the pub with a much smaller garden which would suit him just fine and he'd already put in an offer.

'Close your mouth son it doesn't suit you, you look like a goldfish,' he told him, when Harry failed to answer.


The purchase of James's small cottage had gone without a hitch and in the weeks that followed he'd had the time of his life, he had never been so busy. With Harry to organise and help him, they'd packed the things that he wanted and with the help of a couple of lads from the pub, moved him the full mile into his new abode. Through it all Ruth had kept her distance, giving them the time and space that they needed to continue to rebuild their relationship, and at the end of the day for the first time in years, he had a decent meal put on the table in front of him.

Catherine's first thought when her grandfather had rung her, was to assume that something dreadful had happened to her Dad. Grandad didn't ring her, she rang him as and when she could.

'Dad's what?' she'd exclaimed as though the prospect of her father getting married again was about as unlikely as the earth freezing over, until James mentioned the name Ruth.

'That name means something to you doesn't it Catherine,' he told her when she paused, 'but I'm assuming that you haven't met her, well I have and she's lovely, so you'll play nice when you meet her, won't you sweetheart?'

Catherine refrained from telling him that as far as she knew, Ruth had been in her father's words, ' lost to him and his biggest regret' which at the time had hurt her, until he'd elaborated, if only briefly, about how Ruth had sacrificed herself and her future so that he could continue to do his job.

Now standing on York station having missed her connection to Halifax because the London train had been late leaving, Catherine was to say the least frustrated and her imagination and curiosity about what Ruth would be like and the fact that her father had apparently found her again had reached fever pitch. She bit the bullet and dialled Harry.

'It's fine love, we'll find somewhere to have a cup of tea while we're waiting,' meant only one thing, that Ruth was with him and her plans to get a glimpse of her would be earlier than she'd expected. Daft really for her to be worrying when her Grandad had told her that her Dad looked happier than he'd ever seen him, in fact smitten was how he'd put it. Was that a word that people even used any more, did it happen these days in a world where a one night stand and sex was virtually on tap? Well obviously it did, but she'd never imagined smitten and her Dad as bedfellows until now. Three days her boss had told her, three days Catherine and then I expect you back. She'd already wasted a couple of hours because the wretched train had been delayed, as she'd watched the scenery outside the window changing from urban into country and glanced at her watch as she'd been doing every few minutes as she got nearer to the inevitable what? Play nice Grandad had told her, she'd try she really would, but she had one of those faces that no matter how much she tried, she couldn't disguise what she was feeling, so Ruth had better be everything that her Grandad had told her.

A/N I had intended this to be the final chapter but it ran on longer than I expected, so the final chapter will follow. Even with Harry's honourable nature, a 30 year guilt trip over Eleana, I just don't buy it. This story has been my attempt to find a more plausible reason.

Thank you to everyone who has read and posted reviews, you know how much I appreciate them.