Wed Me: a drabble about two characters on the subject of wedlock
Harry screwed up yet another sheet of paper and tossed it away in frustration. Taking a fresh sheet, he sat staring at it, chewing the end of a ballpoint pen. At that moment, Ruth came into the study, bringing him a welcome cup of coffee. She surveyed the acres of screwed up paper and grimaced. "How's it going?" she asked.
"It isn't," answered Harry. He slumped back in his chair. "Jesus, Ruth - I can write the most complicated threat assessments, yet I can't write the speech for my daughter's wedding."
Ruth put an arm around his shoulders. "Maybe you're trying too hard, Harry. Why don't you leave it for tonight? It's getting late, anyway."
"Yeah," said Harry, in a resigned tone. He tossed the well chewed pen onto the desk.
Ruth took his hand. "Come on, Harry - let's go to bed."
The next night was no better. Ruth had woken up and found Harry's space beside her empty. She dragged herself out of bed and made her way to the study, finding him hunched over the desk, pen in hand.
"Harry, what are you doing?" she asked tiredly, and not without a touch of irritation. "It's three o'clock in the morning!"
"I couldn't sleep, Ruth... I thought I'd have another go at my speech."
Ruth sighed. "Harry, the more you think about it, the more difficult it will be."
"But the wedding's less than a week away..." He regarded her with his dark eyes. Ruth waited - there was more. Harry ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, and she smiled.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked softly.
"I don't want to embarrass Catherine," he said softly. "Or say anything to upset anyone. Her day should be perfect."
He was looking at the floor, and Ruth had to crouch down beside him, so that she could look up into his face. When she did so, his expression was so woeful that her heart almost broke. She took his hands in hers. "Harry. Harry, look at me. You won't make a fool of yourself..."
"But I'm no good at this sort of thing!"
"Harry, you'll do just fine," said Ruth in a calm voice. "You've addressed large groups of people before. You can do it, Harry." Ruth squeezed his hands gently. "As for the speech, write what you feel in your heart - truth and honesty are always the best policy." She raised a hand and cupped his stubbly cheek. "I love you, Harry, and I have every faith in your ability to do this, and to do it well." Ruth stood up. "Now come back to bed before I fall asleep on my feet!"
Harry looked exceedingly pleased with himself when he arrived home from work the next evening.
"What?" asked Ruth, seeing his smiling face.
"I've done it!" he announced.
Ruth was confused. "Done what?"
"Written the speech."
"When?"
"This afternoon."
She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were supposed to be overseeing a training session for new recruits!"
"I was, but I just set them some exercises and let them get on with it!" His grin was a wide one. Ruth shook her head, but she was glad he had conquered what seemed to him to be an insurmountable obstacle. "Would you like to read it?"
"If you want me to."
He nodded and handed her the pieces of paper. Ruth turned her attention to them, reading slowly, while Harry took over stirring the sauce for their dinner. By the time she had finished, Ruth had tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat.
"What?" asked Harry in alarm, turning off the hob and removing the pan.
Ruth clutched the sheets of paper to her chest. "Oh, Harry - it's just beautiful," she answered.
"Honestly. Do you really think so?"
Ruth reached across the counter and grasped his hand. "Yes... yes, I do."