It had taken them nearly a month, between operations on the Grid and visits with family, but Harry was finally taking Ruth out to dinner. He picked her up at half past seven, looking rather handsome, she thought, in a dark navy shirt and dark trousers, his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up. She'd almost laughed, when she opened the door for him; they matched. She'd chosen a soft navy dress, the roundness of her belly unmistakable, at nearly twenty weeks gone. Ruth was trying to ignore the fact that the dress highlighted an increased roundness in other parts of her anatomy, as well. Over the last two months, she had slowly begun to open herself up to the possibility that perhaps she and Harry were not past the point of saving. He had been gentle, and kind, and she found herself drawn to him, not just because of the change in his attitude, but because of the change in her own. The imminent arrival of the peanut had solidified Harry's continued presence in her personal life, and had forced her to face some hard truths about herself and her feelings.
There was no point, she'd eventually decided, in keeping Harry at arm's length to protect her heart. Holding herself back from him hurt her now, and it wasn't worth that pain to defend herself against a heartbreak that might never come. This was their chance; not their first, nor their second, nor even really their third. Forces beyond their control kept throwing them back together, and she had decided to seize this opportunity, on the off chance that it was their last.
"So, where are we going?" she asked once they were both safely ensconced in the car.
Harry seemed unduly nervous, his expression bordering on outright shyness.
"It's a surprise."
Ruth smiled. "All right, then. You know I'm not a big fan of surprises."
He grunted as he drove, eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. "Neither am I. But this is a good surprise."
As they drove along Ruth pondered whether or not she ought tell him that she was considering buying a house. She'd contacted an estate agent, and had even visited a handful of properties, but she'd yet to see anything that caught her eye. This was beginning to make her a bit nervous; she was five months gone, now, and rapidly running out of time. It would be rather difficult, she imagined, to deal with all the petty details involved in moving house while her attention was focused on a newborn, and she wanted to have the matter settled before she took leave.
Her leave was a bone of contention, between Ruth and Harry. Ruth was quite happy to work up until the day the baby was born, and Harry was adamant that her leave ought to start well before then. Her five-month check was coming up later this week, and she planned to raise the matter with Doctor Peters, in the hopes that her doctor at least would be on her side, and overrule Harry with a professional opinion. Harry had expressed some interest, in attending the appointment with her, and she was rather looking forward to it.
"Here we are," Harry said softly, drawing her out of her reverie. He turned slightly in his seat, watching her closely as she took in their surroundings.
"Oh, Harry," Ruth breathed, tears filling her eyes unbidden.
He'd taken her to the same restaurant they'd been to, all those years before, on their date. Small, and intimate, casual without being bland, and, if her memory served, the food was excellent, as well.
The thoughtfulness of the gesture stunned her into silence. For so long they had struggled to keep their relationship professional and aloof, and so each of those little moments, like their one and only date, grew into almost mythological significance. The fact that he had brought her here was a not-so-subtle reminder of not only their history, but the depth of feeling that wound each of those disparate events together, weaving them into a tapestry that told the story of their lives together.
"Is it all right, if we eat here? We can go somewhere else," Harry said nervously.
Ruth leaned across the seat, and kissed his cheek. "This is perfect," she said.
"I have a suggestion to make, but before I say anything, I would like to ask that you hear me out. I have thought this through, and I would like for you to hear my perspective, on the subject, before drawing a conclusion."
They were lingering over dessert; ordinarily, they would be halfway through their second bottle of wine at this point, but once again Harry had eschewed alcohol in favor of water. Never once had he drawn attention to his decision not to drink in her presence, and Ruth was all the more fond of him for it. It was pointless, really; just the smell of wine was enough to turn her stomach, so she didn't particularly miss it, but she appreciated the gesture, all the same.
His words burst the little bubble of happiness that had been steadily growing inside her chest throughout their meal. Their conversation had been rather gentle; he had teased her, just a little, she had blushed, just a little, and as the night wore on, any nerves she had felt about her decision to allow Harry back into her heart had begun to fade. The anxiety returned ten-fold now, though, as she wondered what sort of proposition might prompt such an introduction from him. Please, please don't ask me to marry you again. Not right now. Not yet.
"I think I can manage that," she allowed.
Harry cleared his throat, fidgeted with his shirtsleeves for a moment, took a sip of water. He practically radiated apprehension, and Ruth found herself willing him to just get on with it.
"You'll need some help, once the baby comes," he started. She opened her mouth to protest, remembered that she'd agreed to hear him out, and closed it again. Harry didn't miss her almost-interruption, and he gave her a little smile before continuing. "Your body needs time to heal, and the peanut will be up at all hours. You won't have time to worry about things like cooking and cleaning; Jane used to complain that she didn't even have time to shower."
For a moment he looked suddenly horror-stricken, as if he'd realized too late that mentioning his ex-wife to Ruth might not be the wisest course of action. It was her turn to smile at him. She didn't mind, really; she was still rather curious, about what things had been like for Harry when his children were small, and she was grateful he felt comfortable enough around her to share even that little tidbit of information.
"I know you've said you don't want a nanny right away."
Ruth nodded. She knew that eventually she would return to work, and that as a single parent she would need to make some sort of childcare arrangements. She much preferred the idea of a nanny, someone who would be with the peanut one-on-one, every day, but she didn't want to hire one right from the outset. All the parenting books talked about the importance of bonding with the baby, and she was determined that, at least for the first few weeks, she would do as much as she could on her own.
"My suggestion is this: my house has three bedrooms."
Ruth's heart leapt into her throat and she made a small, squeaky sound of surprise. The denial that had formed on her lips died rather abruptly when Harry raised his hand, asking for quiet.
"I'm not suggesting a permanent solution, Ruth. You could stay with me, until you found your feet. I know I wouldn't be around, much, but I could help out. I'd be around some nights and weekends, and I could manage the shopping, and a bit of cleaning and cooking, as needed. I could watch the peanut, so you could rest. Or shower," he added, giving her an almost hopeful sort of look. "You could have your own room, Ruth. I'm not trying to chain you to my bed. It would only be for a little while, until you were comfortable with the peanut, and when you feel you're ready, you could find a place of your own. I can't imagine you want to stay in the flat."
With that, he folded his hands in his lap, and looked at her expectantly.
Ruth took a long drink from her glass, her mind turning at a breakneck pace.
On its face, it wasn't an entirely laughable suggestion. She would need help; she imagined that being cooped up with a newborn, completely alone, every minute of every day would only drive her mad. And if it was important for the peanut to bond with her mother in the first few weeks of her life, surely it was important for her to bond with her father, too.
But it would mean living with Harry. He'd been rather thoughtful, in offering her a room of her own, and he'd made no assumptions about the romantic side of their relationship. She had no doubt that he would respect any boundaries she set for them. The question was; what sort of boundaries would she set? Would she be comfortable, sleeping in Harry's house, knowing he was so close by, and yet not sharing her bed? How exquisite would that pain be? How would she manage, watching him go off to the Grid every morning, living his life while her own stood still? Could she stand to do this?
Could she stand not to?
"It's not a bad idea, Harry," she said finally, and watched him visibly relax. "I'll just need a little time, to think it through."
"Of course," he nodded. "I'd expect nothing less from you. I just want you to know the offer's there, should you choose to accept it."
There was something else, another worry that his suggestion brought to the front of her mind.
"What happens after I leave, Harry?" she asked, the words tumbling out of her before she could stop them.
"Ruth-" he started, clearly unhappy. Harry didn't like these sorts of conversations. Ruth had made up her mind, that she would leave the service once the baby was born, and Harry could not even bear to talk about it.
"I'm serious, Harry. We need to discuss this. I have six months, for maternity leave, and another month of holiday time owing, but once that runs out, I'll be looking for employment elsewhere. I might not ever come back to the Grid. What happens to us then?"
"Well, I have a suggestion for that, too. I just wasn't sure when I ought to bring it up."
If he'd been nervous before, it was nothing compared to how fretful he appeared now.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this suggestion?" Ruth asked wryly.
"We could get married. In name only," he added quickly, when he caught sight of her expression. "Just for the paperwork. It would just serve to establish a legal connection between us. We could wait a reasonable amount of time, and then get divorced. I would be permitted contact with you as my ex-wife; no one could object, particularly as you're the mother of my child. It would only be a means to an end, Ruth."
The mother of my child. She smiled, despite the rising tide of doubt that threatened to drown her. She loved to hear those words, coming from him, in reference to her. She could only imagine how it would feel, to hear him call her my wife. Would this be as close to marriage as they ever got? A rushed little ceremony, performed solely for practical reasons, and no mention of the love between them? Would it be that easy, to just get divorced, or would the quagmire of emotions that surrounded whatever it was they were to each other overwhelm them, turn them bitter, make what should have been a simple proceeding long and complicated?
"Marriage isn't something we should take lightly, Harry," she said.
"What makes you think I'm taking this lightly? I won't be cut off from you again, Ruth. I couldn't stand it. This is a very serious proposition."
She sighed. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
"Give me some time to think about that, too. I'm not saying no, Harry, I'm just saying…give me time."
He leaned back, and smiled a soft, sad little smile. "I can do that."
Ruth nodded, appeased. Dinner had been going so well, and even though the last few minutes had been a veritable emotional minefield, she was determined not to let her fears and her doubts put a damper on things.
"I have something for you," Harry said after a while, still smiling.
What on earth?
Perhaps her confusion showed on her face, because he continued, "Surely you haven't forgotten, Ruth. It's your birthday tomorrow."
"So it is." She hadn't forgotten, exactly, it was just that her mind was full of so many different things right now that her birthday had taken a backseat to her worries about the future. Their future.
"I've left your present in the car. Why don't you let me take you home, and I'll give it to you when we get there. That way you can enjoy it tonight."
Ruth raised an eyebrow at that. A million possibilities flitted through her mind, each more tawdry than the last, and she couldn't stop the blush that colored her cheeks.
Harry's answering grin was practically mischievous.
