WOW! I'm so very sorry it's taken me so long to update. Seriously, school has been insane and hectic, I'm kicking myself for making such a crazy promise back in August to update every other week. For now, I'll do what I can, but please be patient with me, it's definitely going to be slow until I graduate in December...and have to find a "real" job, eek!
Thank you for all your lovely reviews on the last chapter. I hope you will continue to bear with me in the slowness of this story (both the output and the unearthing of details), I love a good, slow burn. But I think it's going to be fun still and I hope to move the timeline a long a little quicker when I actually get more chapters out. Again, I'm sorry this is taking so long! :)
Anyway, thank you again for continuing to read my story. Enjoy!
Chapter Eight
December 1959
"I spoke to my mother," Matthew said.
He sat at the kitchen table with George, the seven-year-old working on a science project for school while his father assisted him with electrical equipment and the sharper scissors.
Mary turned away from the stove, stirring the pot of spaghetti as the water began to boil. Her brow furrowed at this news.
"What?" she asked, confusion on her face.
"My mother. She called yesterday afternoon when you were getting groceries and we spoke," Matthew replied, cutting his way around some letters to display the title of George's project.
"What about?" Mary corrected, arching an eyebrow. She sincerely hoped it wasn't what she thought. She didn't know if she could take Isobel and the Colonel during a Virginian Christmas along with her own parents.
"She asked if we had any plans for-"
"Don't say it," she begged him.
"-Christmas," Matthew finished, his own eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Don't you want my parents to come see us in our new home?"
Mary rolled her eyes. "You know that isn't it at all," she countered. "George, go clean up before dinner. You can finish up after we eat."
With a momentary of protest shut down by Matthew's stern urging, George stomped off while Matthew cleaned up the project.
"What is it, then?" Matthew asked her once they were alone and the table was cleared.
"My parents are bringing Granny with them," Mary said, now stirring the pasta sauce to keep itfrom burning. "She's getting older and they keep going on and on about how it could be her last Christmas, although I'm sure she'll outlive all of us."
Matthew laughed at this. "I wouldn't doubt it," he agreed. "But if they're coming, why not let old Colonel Crawley and Isobel drop on by? And your family will get a hotel, I'm sure. They'll only see each other for a few hours each day."
"But you know how Granny is around your parents," Mary replied pointedly. "Don't you remember our wedding? It's like a competition over who served President Wilson better in the Great War. You know Granny likes to pretend like she was there driving a tank herself in the Meuse-Argonne."
"I'm still not clear on what Violet actually did in 1917," Matthew said in amusement. "I got the impression she knitted scarves no one wanted to wear and yelled at the unpatriotic when they wouldn't buy war bonds."
"See, this is why we can't have them together," Mary insisted. "Plus, I'd rather not hear from your mother about the divorce. I'm sure she's going to hate me to the end of her days."
Matthew looked down at his shoes. "That's not true," he said after a moment's hesitation.
Mary frowned as she stared at him. "And...why not?" she asked slowly.
"Because," Matthew said, getting to his feet. He crossed to the refrigerator and retrieved a beer, popping the cap as he leaned against the counter. "Because I didn't tell them about it."
She continued to watch him as he took a swig of the beer, blinking a few times before she spoke again.
"Why wouldn't you tell them?" Mary asked finally, gripping the wooden spoon tightly in her hand.
Matthew paused, exhaling before he responded. "You know how I hoped to change your mind about it. I didn't know we'd need NASA to change it for you."
Mary forced herself to not roll her eyes this time. She didn't need to feel guilty about being there for his career, not when she'd been upfront with him in the first place. It was the only reason she was there. The only reason those divorce papers had been shredded before they'd moved to Virginia.
"But what happens when they do find out? Which they will-I know how much your father hates spending money. They're going to want to stay in the spare room and how do you expect to keep it from them then?" Mary asked, crossing her arms, some water flying off the spoon. She watched as Matthew pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at this, but she ignored him. "And my parents know. At least Mama does and I know she hates keeping things from Papa."
Matthew sat on the counter. "Well, I'm sure Robert hates me now all the same. Although was he ever very fond of me?"
She sighed, turning back to the stove to see to the pot as it started to boil over. She turned down the temperature on the burner, giving the water a good stir.
"Are you serious? You know you're the son he's always wanted. When I was born he nearly cried telling his friends that I was a girl," Mary said, casting a dubious look at her husband. "He was so happy when he found out George was a boy he passed around cigars like Mama had just had a son."
"Your father loves you," Matthew said and Mary looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the cooking once more. "And I'll bet news of the divorce has at least cracked his affection for me."
"You? The man who became a flight commander at the age of twenty-four?" she questioned.
"I know Robert thinks the military is for boys who never grew up," Matthew replied.
"Oh, really? Would he say that about President Eisenhower?" Mary asked.
Matthew eyed her for a long moment, taking another drink of his beer. "Are you trying to make me back down from letting my parents come visit?" he asked. "They are getting on in years, like Violet, who knows how much time-"
"God, you're irritating," Mary shot back, lifting the pot from the stove. She crossed to the kitchen sink to drain the water before adding the marinara sauce. "Fine, let them come. I can't wait to see what your mother thinks of my placement of the Christmas decorations and how well you and the Colonel get along. It's like your relationship with your parents is just a bed of roses."
"It's not like we've seen them for over a year. What could they possibly say?" he asked, slipping off the counter as he approached Mary who stood at the stove again. "Just talk to your parents about keeping a lid on the divorce and we won't run into any problems."
Mary rolled her eyes again, turning to face him. "How little you understand how in-laws work. I know we haven't had a lot of experiences with them mingling together, but do you really think your mother is going to be over the fact that the kids lived in Ohio for most of their lives? That's quite a long toddle from Hawaii, although babies frequently make transcontinental trips and then swim the Pacific Ocean," she snipped.
Matthew frowned. "What are you getting at?"
She gave him a knowing look. "You think Granny gets jealous when other people talk about their war experiences, you're going to get a nice surprise when Isobel starts talking about how little she's seen her grandchildren in the past two years."
"Planes fly to and from Hawaii, if I'm remembering correctly," Matthew said.
"Yes, but I wasn't exactly keen to let your mother fly in for a visit after I found out you-"
Her voice trailed off and Matthew simply looked back at her, his lips pressed together. Mary dropped his gaze, her face warming from sudden embarrassment.
"-after our falling out. And I'm fairly certain I haven't heard the last on that score."
"You can't keep her away forever," he said finally.
"Fine, let her come," Mary gave in, throwing her hands up again, water from the spoon hitting Matthew in the face. She covered her mouth to hide a smile as he wiped his hand across his damp face. "But I expect you to keep an eye on your mother."
"I'll handle Isobel if you handle Violet," Matthew consented as Susan and George entered the room in anticipation of dinner.
"No one can handle her," Mary replied. "Except perhaps Susan. You know Granny has a soft spot for our little girl."
"Then we'd better make sure she behaves like an angel," Matthew said, scooping Susan off the ground and into his arms. The little girl squealed.
"I'm always an angel, Daddy," Susan said with a smile. "Mommy, is dinner ready?"
"In a minute, peanut," Mary told her.
"Are Gran and Pop-Pop coming for Christmas?" George asked, pulling out his seat at the table.
Mary cast a look at Susan and Matthew, both of whom smiled. "It would seem so," she replied. "Once your father calls your Gran back and tells her."
"Thanks, babe," Matthew said, kissing Mary's cheek and swooping away with Susan still in his arms before she even knew what had happened.
Mary turned back to the stove, spoon gripped tightly in her hand once more, teeth clenched.
"Matthew! Matthew, help me change the sheets on the guest bed," Mary implored, frantic as the minutes ticked closer to the arrival of Matthew's parents two days before Christmas.
Her own parents and Violet would fly in the following morning, leaving them one day to get used to Isobel and the Colonel's presence before the rest of them arrived for festivities. She was grateful her parents had found a hotel, for the house was already feeling too small even before the Crawleys had arrived.
"Matthew!" she shouted again, finally catching her husband as he walked past.
He poked his head in the guest bedroom, looking amused as Mary tossed the pillows to the floor and began to tear off the old sheets he'd been using.
"What's this about?" he asked, untucking the nearest sheet corner from beneath the mattress.
"We need to put new sheets on. I don't want your mother smelling your cologne on these and finding out we're not sharing a room," Mary told him.
"So we will be sharing one when they're here?" he asked as she unfolded a clean sheet and handed a corner to him from across the bed.
"You can't very well bunk with George," she said, short. "It's your fault your mother doesn't know about the divorce yet, but I don't want her to find out about it now. She would never blame you for it and I'd never hear the end of it. And just imagine the damper it would put on Christmas."
"What you're saying is, we've got enough problems as it is?" Matthew asked, a teasing note in his voice as he tucked the sheet around the mattress.
"Oh, that's definitely true," Mary said, spreading out the clean comforter as Matthew changed the pillow cases. "I hope the kids don't bring up our constant bickering."
"We don't constantly argue," Matthew protested. "For instance, I completely agree that my parents shouldn't find out about the divorce."
Mary raised her eyebrows and snorted. "I don't think that really demonstrates we're on friendly terms," she replied.
"What about earlier when I said meatloaf was fine to have for dinner tonight?" he asked, throwing the pillows on the mattress.
"If Isobel doesn't decide to cook for us," Mary said.
She knew they had been on better terms lately, but she was anxious that they would now have an audience to their marital problems. One that included Matthew's mother-who Mary felt didn't like her much-and Matthew's father-who didn't like anyone much.
It seemed like a recipe for trouble.
"I know you're worried, but don't be," Matthew insisted as Mary picked up the old bedclothes. "They'll just be happy to be here. Well, Mother will, at least. Dad's another story."
Mary nodded, but sighed. Her head snapped up as the doorbell rang.
"Oh, God," she said rushing out of the room to dispose of the bedclothes in the laundry room. She stuffed them into a basket as Susan and George tittered in the living room.
"Is it Gran and Pop-Pop?" Susan asked in an excited voice as Mary appeared.
"Maybe, peanut," Matthew said, giving Susan a grin before casting what he seemed to think was a reassuring look at Mary as he crossed to the front door.
Mary adjusted the manger scene on the end table as George and Susan bounded to the front door to see who was there, herself anxious that something would be noticeably out-of-place. Matthew opened the door to reveal Isobel, who looked thrilled, and Reginald, who looked moderately less so.
"Merry Christmas, my darlings!" Isobel gushed, wrapping her grandchildren in a bear hug.
"Gran!" Susan and George squealed at the same time as Isobel gave them each a kiss. Susan broke away from her grandmother first, approaching Reginald rather cautiously.
"Merry Christmas, Pop-Pop," she said with a shy smile as she stood in front of her grandfather.
Surprisingly, Reginald knelt down in front of Susan, reaching out to tap her nose.
"Merry Christmas, little bug," he said, his usually stoic features breaking into an all-too rare smile for Susan. She giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.
Isobel had released George who saluted Reginald as usual, gaining a return salute and a head pat for the grandson.
"Matthew, my darling boy, how are you?" Isobel asked, embracing Matthew. Mary forced herself closer to the rest of them, knowing a perfunctory greeting would be given to her as well.
"Good, Mother," he replied, kissing Isobel's cheek.
"Well," she corrected. "We're both so proud of you!" she beamed, finally releasing her son. Matthew cast a glance at his father, who was in the process of bringing the suitcases into the house. They locked eyes for a moment and Mary saw her husband's shoulders tense as he nodded and Reginald looked away.
"Colonel, why don't I show you where you'll be staying?" Mary offered, hoping to slowly ease the two men back into their tense relationship.
Reginald nodded, and Mary motioned for him to follow her. She cast a glance at Matthew as she passed, giving him an eyebrow raise before heading for the guest room.
The Colonel was his usual silent self, laying out their bags on the top of the dresser without so much as a word from him as Mary tried to make light conversation, only succeeding in eliciting a few grunts in response to questions about the flight and the drive from the airport. Mary was glad to return to the living room, for at least Reginald softened up a bit after he sat on the armchair and Susan crawled into his lap with a picture to show him.
"Can I get anyone some coffee?" Mary offered, anxious for something to do and to escape from the others for a bit. She wasn't sure she could handle three days with the Crawleys. "Maybe some cake? Tea?"
"Oh, dear, let me do that," Isobel said, bounding to her feet from her place beside Matthew on the sofa.
"No, no," Mary said, backing toward the kitchen in case Isobel rushed past her, "you've had such a long flight today."
"It's no trouble at all," Isobel insisted, perpetually cheerful as she made her way to Mary. "I'm happy to help. I know it must be difficult for you now that you're on your own with two little ones full time."
Mary wasn't sure she could tactfully dodge her mother-in-law without hurting the older woman's feelings, so instead she gave in.
"Well, thank you," she managed, not feeling very thankful as she smiled at Isobel and retreated into the kitchen, feeling rather backed into a corner.
Mary had Isobel cut slices of pound cake and laid them on dishes while she busied herself with the coffee pot, slowly filling it with water, measuring the perfect amount of coffee grounds, and waiting for the water to heat.
"How are you liking it in Virginia?" Isobel asked, making conversation while Mary knew there was silence between her husband and son and the living room.
"We like it fine," Mary couldn't think of much else to say about the state. "There's a couple we know from Matthew's training at Edwards, the Aldridges, they're very nice," Mary explained, hopping not to venture further into that subject. Isobel had other plans.
"Such a shame you couldn't join Matthew in California much," Isobel turned, giving Mary a sympathetic look as though it must have been torture to be so far away from her husband. Mary refrained from laughing somehow. "Your mother must have depended on you so much for you not to go. I'm sure she was so grateful for your help while she was ill."
Mary froze, hand poised above the coffee grounds container. Ill? She thought. What had Matthew told his parents?
"She was," Mary said, pressing her lips together in a quick smile. "But she's very well now." She knew she'd have to warn her mother of this apparent illness before a prolonged conversation with Isobel.
"I'm so glad to hear it," Isobel said cheerily. "I'm sure it must have been a strain being away from Matthew for such long stretches of time."
"It wasn't easy," Mary agreed, which was only partly true.
Isobel nodded, as though believing Mary's words.
"It's so nice that you're together again," Isobel crooned, searching through the kitchen drawers for utensils, which Mary pointed out to her as she found some mugs for the coffee while it brewed. "And it was just so nice that Matthew called and invited us to come out here!"
Mary felt paralyzed for the second time that conversation, her fingers nearly slipping on the handle of a mug she'd just retrieved from the cabinet. What the hell?
Isobel barreled on, unfazed as she found the dessert plates. "It's so nice to see the kids and both of you, of course," her mother-in-law continued, giving Mary a fond smile.
"We're happy to have you," Mary managed, miraculously, gathering the needed number of mugs and two small glasses for Susan and George. "It's been such a long time."
Isobel nodded, looking rather sad as she poured coffee into the mugs and Mary took the bottle of milk from the refrigerator. She was right. It had been a long time since the kids had seen their grandparents, but that didn't give Matthew the right to lie to her about how this Christmas visit came about. God, he was going to pay.
"I've been begging Reg to let us move back to the lower forty-eight. He's retired from the Air Force, it's not like we have any family out there in Hawaii, but for a military man, he hates moving," Isobel explained. Mary could relate.
"It would be nice to have you closer," she agreed, filling the smaller glasses with milk.
At this, Isobel's entire face lit up. "You don't know how wonderful it is to hear you say that, Mary, dear," she said, a bit teary-eyed. "Have I told you how lovely the house is looking? The Christmas decorations are so quaint."
Mary smiled, still suspecting that Isobel's compliment would be countered with an early morning wake up in which she rearranged all the decorations and added a few of her own. Just to make it more familiar, she would say.
After pulling out two trays to carry out the coffee and cake, Isobel took charge of the food while Mary handled the drinks.
"Reg takes his coffee black, just like Matthew," Isobel reminded Mary. "I'll have some cream for mine, dear."
"Of course, Mother," Mary said and Isobel flashed her another smile before heading for the living room, delighted squeals of her grandchildren greeting her, Matthew's pleased voice carrying through the doorway.
"Where's the coffee?" he asked.
"Mary will be just a moment," Isobel said, her voice scolding. "Don't be so impatient."
And Mary had an idea.
Childish, but oh so satisfactorily, Mary retrieved the sugar canister from the cabinet and a tablespoon. Choosing one of the mugs for Matthew (the one with the cracked rim), she dropped four heaping tablespoonfuls of sugar into his coffee cup, finally stirring the sugar into the dark liquid after the last scoop. With a grin, she replaced the sugar canister on the counter and then returned the bottle of milk to the refrigerator and instead locating the heavy cream. She poured a bit into two of the other cups, one for her and one for Isobel, replacing this bottle now.
"I'm on my way," Mary announced, lifting the tray off the table before walking toward the living room.
"Wonderful," Isobel said as Mary set her tray lightly on the coffee table, on top of the now-empty one Isobel had cleared of cake earlier.
Mary handed the drinks around, saving Matthew's for last other than her own drink.
"Here you are, dearest," she said, passing the chipped mug to him with a smile and a bat of her eyelashes that caused him to do a double-take.
He stared at her for a moment, and Mary couldn't tell if he thought she had poisoned the coffee after Isobel had left or if he was merely confused by her behavior. It wasn't likely he had heard his mother give him away.
"Thanks, babe," he said, still befuddled, but Mary dropped his gaze, taking a seat on the floor by the coffee table instead of on the empty sofa next to him. Isobel sat on his other side while Reginald had taken the easy chair, Susan bounding off his knee to drink her milk and have a bite of her cake.
After settling herself, Mary chanced a glance at her husband as he listened to his mother speak, absentmindedly taking a drink of his coffee. He choked on the liquid and Isobel looked startled.
"Are you alright, dear?" she asked, reaching for a paper napkin on the table and passing it to him as he sputtered, clearly taken aback by the sugary liquid he had expected to be bitter. He wiped his lips, his eyes shooting to Mary, who had picked up her coffee cup to hide her mouth behind it. But she knew her eyes were dancing with laughter while Matthew's were dark.
"Fine," he said. "It was hotter than I expected."
"Well, be careful, darling," Mary told him, an almost imperceptible smirk passing over lips before disappearing at the word 'darling'. Her stomach felt like it had filled with lead at this term of endearment. Shit.
Matthew frowned at her for a moment before urging his mother to continue, his shoulders tense.
Mary couldn't decide if the later confrontation would be fun, or a veritable nightmare.
She was barely out of the bathroom, changed into her pajamas and teeth freshly brushed, when Matthew pounced.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, standing.
He had been seated on the corner of the bed, right across from the bathroom door, waiting for Mary after he'd changed into his t-shirt and sweatpants for bed. Now that they had to share for the next three nights, she couldn't exactly get rid of him.
"What?" Mary questioned, feigning innocence for as long as possible. She dropped her clothes in the hamper before turning to face Matthew.
"Why did my coffee taste like there was a cup of sugar in it?" he asked.
Mary tilted her head to the side. "That's a bit of an exaggeration. Maybe half a cup, tops," she conceded, crossing her arms.
"Mary?" he asked, hands up to show he was backing off.
She released a puff of air. "When were you going to tell me that you told Isobel that the reason I didn't move out to Edwards with the kids was because my mother was sick?" she asked, starting with the most perplexing one.
Matthew blinked for a few moments. "That's why you poisoned my coffee? Because I lied to my mother two years ago?" he asked, scoffing.
"It's because you didn't tell me that you lied!" Mary shot back. "Couldn't you have made up something less serious?"
"Like what? You know damn well there was no good reason I could give her!" he said, voice hushed but cross.
"Not one that would tarnish her view of her angelic son," Mary said, rolling her eyes as she walked to her side of the bed.
Matthew rolled his eyes too. "She called me one day and I was caught off-guard," he explained, dropping her gaze. "When I told her that, I didn't think...our argument...would last very long. Cora being sick was the only excuse I could come up with. I thought it would pass. When it didn't, I didn't know what else to do."
"You could have told her the truth," Mary replied, her nose stinging. She sniffed, pushing away her own feelings. She didn't want to do this right now.
"I'm sorry, I should have warned you," he said, shaking his head. "I guess I forgot about that stuff with Cora. I've had other things on my mind since then."
"It barely gives me any time to warn Mama," she reminded him.
"I can distract Mother when your parents arrive tomorrow to give you the chance," he offered, giving her a half smile. "And if she even told Dad, I doubt he was listening to her."
"I think he picks up more than you give him credit for," Mary replied, sitting on the mattress. Matthew sat too, but on the other side of the bed.
"If you say so," he sighed.
"Matthew, why did you tell me that Isobel called about Christmas?" she asked after a brief lapse in the conversation.
"She did call," he said, but Mary heard the catch in his voice this time.
"No, you called her," Mary corrected, turning her head to look at him. Matthew didn't meet her eyes. "Why didn't you just say so?"
He hesitated, finally looking at her after a long pause.
"I didn't want you to be angry with me about it," he said.
Mary looked away now, a bit surprised that he would be afraid of what she thought of him when he always seemed so unconcerned. Or at least played it that way.
"They're your parents," she said slowly, "they deserve to see their grandchildren."
"So you're not angry?" he asked, his hopeful voice stupidly drawing her gaze back to him.
"I'm angry you lied about it," Mary amended. She sighed. "How are we supposed to do this?"
He tilted his head to the side, confused. "Christmas?"
"Christmas with your parents is hardly the least of our worries," Mary replied, thinking over her earlier conversation. "Isobel wants to be closer to us, not that I blame her. It's been over a year since she's seen her grandchildren."
In fact, Mary knew it had been longer than that, but she was embarrassed by how selfish she'd been toward Isobel when she'd asked about visiting for Susan's third birthday. Matthew's alleged infidelity had been too raw at that time and Mary had managed to put her off, pretending to plan a visit in the summer, but never following through.
"She wants to convince your father to move stateside again."
Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Convince the Colonel to move when the military isn't involved? Best of luck to her."
"Matthew," Mary protested, turning to him on the bed.
"You think I can convince him?" he asked with a snort. "The man hardly said two words to me while you girls were in the kitchen for nearly ten minutes. He doesn't mind the kids, but me?"
Mary had narrowed her eyes at the word "girls" but decided not to make a fuss about it.
"You're both so stubborn," she began, "but I know how important his opinion is to you."
Matthew scoffed at this, shaking his head, but Mary plowed on.
"And yours is equally important to him," she insisted, reaching over to place her hand on his shoulder. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over his arm, but gave in finally, issuing a gentle squeeze to his bicep. A bit of tension released from his shoulders at her touch and Matthew's eyes flicked first to her hand and then up to her face.
"I'm sorry I lied to you," he said, his eyes on hers. "I shouldn't have."
Mary managed a half smile, but she felt as though she'd absorbed some of the tension he'd released. Or maybe it was something more.
"You're right about that," she agreed, her voice unsteady.
Matthew's eyes flicked down to her lips for a brief second, the movement almost imperceptible and Mary didn't say anything else. She held her breath, willing herself to remain motionless while at the same time trying to force her hand off his arm. His eyes locked on hers again and Mary swallowed, surprised when he leaned forward, as though about to kiss her.
"Matthew," she began, but heard a knock at the door that interrupted her.
"Mommy?"
It was Susan's voice on the other side of the door, followed by another knock. Mary pulled her hand away from Matthew, shifting on the bed as the door opened a crack. She was glad nothing had happened, for multiple reasons.
"What is it, sweetie?" Mary asked as Susan shuffled inside, a teddy bear tucked under her arm.
The little girl's eyes were watery with tears. "I had a bad dream," Susan said, approaching the bed slowly, eyes flicking to her father, who she was clearly surprised to see in there.
Mary reached out to stroke Susan's hair. "I'm sorry, peanut," she said, gentle. "Do you want me to sit with you for a while?"
Susan shook her head, grabbing at the knee of Mary's pajama pants. "Can I sleep in here?"
Mary hesitated. She didn't often let either of the children sleep in her bed, a bad nightmare being a rare event and she more often could put either of them back in bed with a little bit of soothing.
Susan looked from Mary to Matthew, as though expecting one of them to give in more easily than the other.
"Peanut, I don't think it's a good-" Matthew began.
Mary interrupted him. "Just for tonight," she said, and beside her Matthew coughed. But Susan smiled, climbing onto the mattress and into the space between her parents.
"Goodnight, Daddy," Susan said, kissing Matthew's cheek before slipping under the quilt.
"Night, peanut," Matthew replied, standing in order to pull back the covers. He lay down on his back, his eyes fixing on Mary as she too got under the blanket.
"Goodnight, Mommy," Susan piped up in the quiet, her head on the corner of Mary's pillow.
Mary turned off her bedside lamp before laying down on her side facing Matthew and Susan.
"Get some sleep," she said, brushing noses with her daughter who giggled before curling into Mary's arms, head tucked against Mary's chest.
In the darkness, Mary could feel her husband's eyes on her again even though she could hardly see past their daughter. His form was outlined by a glow of moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains as he lay on his back, his face obviously turned in her direction. She was glad he didn't try to speak, glad Susan was there to deter him.
Long after Susan had drifted off in her arms, she heard Matthew sigh, but pretended to be asleep as well. She wished she could sleep as easily as their daughter could, if only to escape her own thoughts.
Mary had no idea how she felt about the evening, she was still caught off-guard by Isobel sharing what Matthew had tried to keep hidden.
Would she have let Matthew kiss her? Without a camera on them, without reporters egging them on? And Mary wondered, if she had, would she have kissed him back?
She didn't know, but she knew it wasn't a good idea. Too much had been left unsaid between the two of them. Sure, he had been sorry about lying when he'd been caught, but what if there had been more? And she knew there was more he was keeping from her. She just didn't know what it was.
A kiss couldn't erase everything that had happened in the last two years.
Mary being left behind. Matthew acting like an arrogant ass. Whatever happened at Edwards that he wasn't telling her.
A kiss wouldn't answer any of her questions.