Marty's party was going better than we could have hoped for. It had been hard to get Dad to agree to a celebration that involved non-family members. Rosie joined me in the garden and sat beside me holding Joan, one half of our two year-old twins. We could hear the other half, Ruth, giggling excitedly as Rosie's mum pushed her in the swing.

Rosie teased, "My goodness, you're getting more and more like your dad, a man of few words," then kissed me smack on my lips.

My defense was, "With all the children here, who can get in a word?" There was Laura's son, Martin, as was Jane, the youngest of the Parsons's brood and another five children from two couples we had known since medical school, the Clarks and Singhs. Then there were the adults - Rosie's parents, Uncle Chris and Aunt Jenny, the Bosmans and Elliots, and a few friends from the village.

As Joanie began tickling her, Rosie remarked between laughter, "I worry about Martin, although he seems to be doing alright." In the distance, I saw Dad holding Marty's hand as they returned from their walk. It never ceased to amaze me that they were so alike in temperament, looks and interests.

"Mum warned him about being on his best behaviour. You know he will do anything to make her happy."

"I love your parents. Theirs is such a love story. You would believe that they are an old married couple. How long have they been married again?" Rosie answered her own question, a habit I had learned to live with. "Seven years."

"Well, they never really lost contact with each other." Mum was in her sixties and Dad, his seventies. They were not at all your typical grandparents. With his distinguished looks, tall and erect body and the air of one accustomed to giving orders, Dad still looked the legend he would always be. Mum was chic, vibrant and oh so demonstrative towards Dad. They turned heads wherever they went. Mum made sure that Dad had a social life and he and Uncle Chris, with time on their hands, had taken on a few projects at the hospital in Truro. Rosie and I could not have pursued our careers and looked after our children without their support. They were our rock.

We visited them more often when Truro became their semi-primary home. Eventually, Dad had a guest cottage built for us a little ways from theirs. It was a small, no-fuss space that could take the wear and tear of our children. That was where Rosie's parents were staying for the weekend. We were bunking with my parents and although things were tight and noisy, we were happy to be together.

After Dad retired, Mum had dragged him down to their holiday cottage so often that I once joked that we should do a house swap in London. We were visiting them one evening when Dad called me into his study.

"Your Mum and I are wondering about your plans for housing your family. You seem to have outgrown your flat."

My curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean? You know real estate has gone through the roof in London. We'll have to tough it out for another year or so. The twins will be alright in our room until then. Plus, house hunting is not a task we want to take on now. We just don't have the time."

"Your situation isn't ideal. Since we're in Truro a lot, we don't need all this space. If you're interested, we would be happy to swap homes. The children would have their own room, the twins would have to share for now, and there's all that space on the third floor. Your flat is adequate, although it would be a change from the space we enjoy here. However, it's full time we downsize. Discuss it with Rosie and if you both agree, we will work out the practicalities." Dad had never gotten over the time when Marty almost fell down the stairs at his home. "They will include child-proofing the house."

He was always generous, but this offer was over the top. "This has been your home for a long time, you have renovated it for your comfort and it's near to all the places you and Mum visit. No, we will manage. "

I knew his offer was more a command when he insisted, "James, we want you to have it. We can duplicate what we have here elsewhere, as we have done at our cottage. We don't want our grandchildren living on top of each other."

Ruthie interrupted my reverie by holding out her hands to me and whispered, "Daddy."

"Of course, sweetie," I said as I hoisted her up in my lap. The twins were my emotional connection to Joan and Ruth. Ruth had died peacefully in her sleep a year ago. When Rosie announced at my parent's Christmas dinner that she was pregnant, Aunt Ruth had dryly remarked with the twinkle in her eyes that she reserved for me, "I hope you're not having twins. With the schedule you and James insist on maintaining, I can't imagine how you manage one, let alone two." I'll always remember her delight when the twins were born and we told her that we were naming them after the Ellingham sisters.

I stood by the kitchen window staring into the garden. The party was going well. I enjoyed my grandchildren. The sound of them playing, watching them growing and seeing how Martin loved and cared for them brought tears to my eyes sometimes.

Martin could never resist Marty. I believe their bonding began when he held him in the delivery room. Even as a baby, when he came to visit us, he would reach out to Martin to be held. Martin would take him somewhere quiet to talk or read to him. He was too young to understand what was being said. Nevertheless, I think he found the love in Martin's voice calming. When he began moving around, he would grab Martin's leg to steady himself, climb in his lap or follow him around as fast as his little legs could take him. It was in one of his attempts to catch up with Martin, who hadn't seen him, that he almost tumbled down the stairs. Luckily, Martin caught him before he fell. The next day, every staircase in our house was outfitted with child proof safety gates. Same for the cottage. To think that Martin had worried about becoming a grandfather. He was perfect.

He missed surgery, though he never complained. In his first year of retirement, he remained involved with Imperial - a paper here, a consultation there. He eventually cut all ties after he was almost late for Marty's third birthday party. He came home from the hospital just in time, but not before Marty began crying inconsolably when he didn't see him.

We watched in astonishment as Marty's face lit up when he saw him. He ran to him excitedly shouting, "Granddad, Granddad." When Martin picked him up, he buried his head in his neck and tearfully said, "I thought you weren't coming because you didn't love me anymore."

"Marty, I'll always love you and I'll always be at your birthday parties."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Martin never left Medicine just as I never left Education. He developed an interest in Cardiology and Surgical Oncology, James's and Rosie's specialty, respectively. Luckily, James was involved with Science Is Cool and the Board accepted him to replace Martin. My pet project at The Centre, the nursery/daycare, was doing well thanks to Beth's leadership. As for Round in the Theatre, Martin and Bill kept in contact and we rarely missed opening nights.

One outcome from our being in Cornwall was the relationship Martin developed with Portwenn Primary. After the Science Is Cool exhibition and his gift to the school's Technology Room, he and Janet, the headmistress, became firm friends. When word got out that he was retired and in Truro often, the medical community welcomed him with open arms, called on him for consultations and he became a much sought after guest lecturer.

Martin, with Marty in tow, joined me at the window and wrapped his arms around my waist. "A penny for your thoughts, Louisa."

"I was thinking how full our life has become and how much that is due to our grandchildren."

"I was thinking the same thing." That's how close we had become, sharing similar thoughts, reading each others mind.

Lifting Marty, I sat him on the counter. "Come here my handsome five year-old. Are you enjoying your party? Everybody is so happy for you and Granddad and I are proud of you."

He smiled and replied, "I'm enjoying the party, but I liked my walk with granddad more. He showed me some new insects, butterflies, birds and he told me about how rocks are formed. He's the best."

Martin kept an eagle eye on my health and we walked every day, no matter the weather. He had no health issues besides the occasional aches that came with age. I was just as healthy except for the odd panic attack. I gave everyone a scare three years ago with my massive panic attack on the train to London. I had been travelling alone and fell asleep. When the train stopped suddenly, I had a flashback to the time when I had hit my head and suffered a mild amnesia. I fell to the floor barely able to breathe. Luckily, a doctor was on the train and assisted me. After that episode, James discovered that a classmates from Portwenn Primary operated a car service between Truro and London. From then on, we used them for our London trips.

We had our share of joy and sorrow. Shortly after Marty's first birthday, James and Rosie got married in a simple ceremony in our courtyard. We were happy for them. Martin held Marty in his lap, while I cried tears of joy on his shoulder.

I'm glad Ruth was able to be at the wedding and to know the girls. A few days before she died, we had taken her to dinner to celebrate her 95th birthday. Incredibly, she was in good health and working on the final edits of her second book. I saw fear in Martin's eyes when she told him, "You're now head of the Ellingham family and I'm so proud of you."

He had shushed her. "Ruth, this doesn't sound like you. Are you planning to leave us?"

"Well, nobody is here forever. Heaven forbid."

"And nobody knows when they are going, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

Ruth handed him a beautifully bound book and explained, "It contains our family history which I have recorded over the years." Seeing his raised brow, she said, "Don't worry, your parents are not in it. It's now yours to update and keep for the next generation."

When Martin's phone rang early one morning and he heard Gerald's voice, he knew that Ruth had died.

Martin nuzzled my neck. "You're very quiet. I thought you liked birthday parties."

"Oh, I do, but you have to remember that this is James and Rosie's day, not ours."

"Is that why we're babysitting tonight"?" he teased.

I slapped his hand playfully. "We're looking after them because we love them."

Turning around, I hugged him tight. "Thanks for our good life. I love you Martin Ellingham."

Marty knocked on our door at 7 o'clock. Louisa twisted around in my arms and looked at me bleary-eyed. "Please make him go back to sleep. It's too early to be awake on a Sunday."

I pulled the duvet over her, brushed her hair which was fully silver like mine from off her face and kissed her. "Good morning, Louisa. Go back to sleep my love, I'll take care of the lot." My dear, sweet Louisa. Last night all I had wanted was to wrap my arms around her warm body and allow myself to be soothed by her tender touch. She was the only person who could calm me when the noise, chatter and press of people became too much.

She muttered, "Good morning, Martin. It's too early..." and fell asleep again.

I opened the door for Marty and the girls. I deposited the girls beside their grandmother and prepared myself for Marty's routine of scrambling up in the bed and stretching himself out on me. He was tall for his age, but thin and wiry so his weight was not an issue. However, I still groaned when I felt him land on me. "It's too early to get up. Do you think you could stay quiet and allow us to get a little more rest?" When he didn't respond, I realized that he was fast asleep as were his sisters. The bed was large enough to hold us, but I knew that with so many bodies in it, sleep was over for me. So I got up and went downstairs to start breakfast.

Rosie and James joined us, happy but tired. Why they stayed out so late when they knew they would be worn out the following morning was beyond me. Youth was truly wasted on the young, I thought. Still, they enjoyed themselves and I was glad Louisa and I had made that possible.

Ruthie turned my face around to meet hers. "Feed Ruthie, please." Of course she could feed herself even if she made a mess, which I didn't mind. It was the only way she would get it right. I liked indulging the children, within reason, and who could resist her chubby cheeks and smile. "Not so fast, Ruthie," I admonished her gently as she leaned over from her high chair and gulped down the porridge Louisa had made especially for them. "Hungry, please," she wailed. "I know you are, but eating fast will make you sick." Unwilling to be left out, Joanie asked, "Read 'Humpy Dumpy' ... please." I disliked the violence in that story, but told her, "After breakfast, I'll read each of you your favourite story."

After lunch, Louisa and I stood, arm in arm, waving off our family. The last thing I heard was Marty shouting, "See you soon." and saw the girls giggling and waving. I smiled at her, "It's our time now."

"God, yes. Let's sit outside for a while."

I offered her a glass of wine. She squeezed my hand gratefully. "You always know exactly when and what I want. Wine would be lovely, thanks."

We sat holding hands and enjoying the silence. Nobody could have been more surprised than me about how my life had turned out. Before Louisa and I got back together, I had dreaded retirement. Now, my life was all about making my family happy. They were my world. I dozed off and woke up to see that Louisa was asleep. I kissed her awake. "Let's go inside. Remember Chris and Jenny are coming for dinner."

She mumbled, "It's so nice here." Our garden was beautiful. What had started out as a modest venture, a gift from the Parsons, was now a riot of colours with a nice, unpretentious cottage garden feel.

"Please dance with me." Suddenly, I wanted the magic of us in close embrace, our bodies moving to the music, to weave its web around us.

Her smiled lazily at me. "Dance? We haven't done so in a long time. What has gotten into you, haven't the children worn you out enough?"

"I'm never too tired to dance with you." Taking her hand tenderly in mine, I led her into the lounge. "No matter how many times I dreamed about it, my life with you never looked so good."

And so, as we had done many times before, we danced to John Lennon's Imagine. Hopefully, there will be much more dancing in our future.

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one.

END

Thanks for reading and reviewing my first Fanfic and first piece of fiction. Thanks to you, I enjoyed the journey. My plan was to write one or two chapters in which ME and LG would find each other. Along the way, they reminded me they had their own stories to tell.

5.15.2014