Somehow, the next day Suzaku ended up carrying two baskets as he walked down the road. They were a couple of those delicate, feminine affairs, with high, arched handles, fine weavings, and generously filled with muffins and scones tucked under lavender paisley handkerchiefs. There was really only one thing to blame for how he'd ended up carrying such things, and out in public, too.
Eyelashes.
Aurora had mentioned visiting the O'Tooles for tea, looking to dispense the last evidence of a baking mania she'd indulged in earlier in the week. Chandler and Kendra had made inroads, but there were enough baked goods left to feed an army. So she'd packed up a trio of baskets, easily inviting Suzaku along as she nestled a couple of gingers cookies in with a grouping of chocolate cream cheese muffins.
She'd looked so amazing, he reflected. Done up with classic elegance in a dress the color of the pale blue delphiniums spearing up by the front porch. It was a little vintage, edging towards innocence with its high collar, capped sleeves, and delicate overlay of lace. A satin sash of the same color tied in a draping bow drew his eye helplessly to the narrow span of her waist. Tiny blue crystal flowers glinted in her hair, keeping the strands out of her face while the rest of it tumbled down her back in waves of burnished gold. She was mouth-wateringly pretty, and churned up feelings in Suzaku he didn't even recognize, let alone could corral into some semblance of dignity.
Not wanting to tarnish her style, and bowing to old instincts of etiquette, Suzaku changed into charcoal slacks, a navy shirt, and a pale gray pinstriped vest for the visit. Because it felt like a noose, and it meant borrowing one of Chandler's, he forwent a tie. They had deemed one unnecessary during the shopping trip in Galway. Had that really been over two months ago? As he buttoned the vest closed, Suzaku admitted to himself that it felt like lifetimes had passed in that short stretch of time.
When he joined her again downstairs, Aurora had blinked at him, the blank expression she aimed his way making Suzaku wonder if perhaps he should have gone with a tie, after all.
But when the brilliant smile overtook her face, he was a little staggered. She stepped close, smoothing the lapels of his vest before rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, reminding Suzaku that they were only going to tea with friends. He just shrugged as she went through the homey task, almost wishing that he had worn the tie, just so she could have straightened it. Glancing down, Suzaku had to smile. Her light taupe oxfords, much more reasonable for an afternoon walk than showy heels, were inset with cloth in a blue floral pattern. Even her shoes matched.
Deeming them ready, Aurora had hefted her offering, all three baskets worth, whistled for Ban, and stepped out onto the porch. Chivalry clamping tight against his skin, Suzaku immediately offered to carry her load. And Aurora, ever certain of her strength and always willing to tease, had tossed her hair, eyed him with a dipped chin, and fluttered those damnably long lashes.
It was as thorough a challenge as he'd ever witnessed. Setting his jaw and his spine, Suzaku neatly nipped all three from her hands, sweeping past her to stride down the driveway. He'd gone five paces before he began to feel foolish. Before it could get any worse, though, Aurora had caught up, threading her arm through his and taking back one of the baskets.
"It's better if we share," she informed him before raising up to her toes to press a light kiss to his cheek. Softer than butterfly feet, the gesture nonetheless rocketed through Suzaku's system, setting off nerves strung tight with a need that didn't really make sense. He was mortally afraid he blushed.
Neither really considered the picture they made strolling down the dirt road, the soil rich and loamy, the verges guarded by tall hedges still dotted with blooms the color of blood. The handsome man and beautiful woman, well-dressed and obviously in tune. Occasionally, their heads would tip together as one murmured to the other, the short-hand gestures and teasing smiles hints at intimacy.
Brianna saw all that and more when the pair arrived at her doorstep. Well-used to dogs, and bearing a bit of a soft spot for Aurora's smoky-colored one, she gave Ban a slab of hardened jerky before nudging him along to where Nuada and Cainte lay sprawled in the sun, nearly invisible in the tall, wildly green grass.
It was the couple that drew and kept her eagle-eyed attention, though. Aurora's capacity for polish didn't surprise her, although she'd heard of it more from here-say than actual experience. The woman was genuinely lovely, reminding Brianna of the glossy movie stars she'd idolized in her youth, all smooth, flowing hair and innate elegance. Bri didn't know the girl's past, but she could tell it had done a real number. It had to have; otherwise, Aurora could have been a star, no matter how she chose to shine.
As she politely ushered them into the parlor, where her Pete was already resting, Bri eyed the young man Aurora had brought along with interest. Spine straight as a spear, and a solemn bearing that reminded her of the old cavalry captain that had lived in the village when she was a young girl. The boy had the loveliest eyes, though, and a face all sharp edges and lean planes. A lass could lose her head, and her heart, over a face like that. Consideringly, her gaze slid to Aurora, lingering before sliding back.
His name was certainly a strange one, but in the wake of all those awful wars, Ireland had sheltered more than her fair share of foreign refugees, even in this quaint little corner. Brianna was more interested in the lovely vest those broad, strong shoulders of his filled out so well. She fussed a little over him, partly because she was still a female, regardless of the fact that she was closing in on her seventieth year, and Suzaku was a handsome man. But it was more because the nurturer in her saw the reserve he wore like armor, his bone-deep manners, the lingering wounds that time and attention had not yet healed.
As he settled in, agreeing to a splash of cream in his Earl Gray, Suzaku carefully observed their hosts. The older couple were so incredibly Irish; Pete was all tanned toughness and a voice misted with heather and rain. His clothing was equally tough, his thinning, snow white hair permanently dimpled from where his cap habitually sat. Conversely, Brianna was bright warmth and comfortable hospitality, twinkling eyes bracketed by deep wrinkles and jingling bracelets paired with a simple gold locket. Her hair was a spiraling iron gray that had been flame bright in her youth, if the pictures on the mantel were anything to go by. Her brogue chimed sweetly like a bell, pretty roses twining along the hem of the sweater she wore over a sturdy blue dress.
It took him a while, but Suzaku sensed the cadence between Brianna and Peter. It was the familiarity of decades spent in a partnership that withstood every test fate saw fit to toss their way. For some reason, the proof sitting before him was reassuring. After his initial awkwardness – Brianna made him think of an older Milly, and he'd never been quite sure how to behave around her – Suzaku eventually began to relax and enjoy himself. Part of it was the simple act of drinking good, strong tea with pleasant company. Although the cultural differences were vast, the ceremony and ritual appealed to him, the respect and deliberation familiar in a way.
Then there was Aurora. Flirting with Pete – he'd been stunned to watch a faint blush bloom in the older man's weathered cheeks. Chatting with Brianna – there was something indefinably soothing about the soft ebb and flow of feminine conversation. And when she glanced his way, a small smile on her lips as she raised her teacup, Suzaku winked at Aurora subtly before he thought it through. The delighted surprise that flickered in her eyes made him more than a little proud of the impulsive gesture.
Aurora pondered as she sipped expertly brewed lavender tea from pretty white china edged with violets how Suzaku kept surprising her over and over again. What she'd known and what she'd seen were slowly coalescing into a single image. Yet the contradiction of those two aspects had her startled when something new about him was unearthed, every time.
He was shy and honest, a little awkward and inherently straightforward. And yet, Suzaku had been raised in his culture's version of nobility – he comported himself with charming grace during tea, the elegant angle of his wrist and the smooth movements of his hands betraying a lineage and education steeped in wealth and power. Meanwhile, he sat with a straightness to his back and shoulders that could only originate from his time in the military. He was so sober, for forthright. Then he winked at her, and Aurora's stomach tied itself into giddy knots, reminded with echoing finality that there was so much more to him than met the eye.
God, what was she going to do when he left?
Refusing to brood over the ticking clock, she nudged Suzaku along when Pete rose to walk the property with his hounds, inviting the other man to join him in his succinct way. Offering him a pair of Wellingtons – Brianna cheerfully clucked over his nice shoes as she presented an alternative – the pair clumped out, the sky already layering with clouds as the air grew moist. Rain was coming; Aurora hoped it would hold off for another day. She had plans, and hoped a downpour wouldn't spoil them. Then again, it was Ireland. Rain was an inevitability best accepted.
"I quite like your young man, Aurora," Brianna said with soft appreciation from where she stood at the sink. Having shooed away Aurora's offer to help with the dishes, Bri set to the task of righting her ruthlessly clean kitchen. Her Pete was a man of the land, while the house and its swaying skirts of flowers were utterly Bri's domain. As such, the time-weathered floors were scrupulously clean. The cheerful herbs and blooms in small pots above the sink greedily soaked up what sun still shone through windows that sparkled furiously from her regular ministrations of vinegar and warm water. Through them, she could perfectly see Pete and Suzaku striding over the fields, Nuada and Cainte moving like sleek bullets through the grass while Ban aimlessly wandered at Suzaku's side.
"Thanks, Bri. I quite like him, too."
Bri could hear the laugh in Aurora's voice, and the well-hidden edge of force to the sound. She was a mother and wife, and God knew she was no fool; she could read a least a little of the girl's tone. Aurora was a tricky one, and for a woman who never turned down a tasty sliver of gossip, Bri found her mystery both frustrating and fascinating. Carefully, she tried to mine a little information.
"He's been here a while now, hasn't he?" Glancing over her shoulder to where Aurora sat at the table, nursing her tea as she gazed out the kitchen window, no doubt watching the men traipse along much as she just had, Bri saw the longing in her eyes, and the pain that flickered under it. Seeing that, Bri reevaluated.
"Three months or so. He'll be going back soon."
Watching the tall boy walk along at her husband's side, she mulled that over a while after setting the last teacup to drain and drying her hands on her apron. She sat with Aurora at the table, a part of her brain admiring the girl's style and looks. The other part marveled that a heart so well-guarded could be so easily bruised.
"And you? Will you stay?"
The smile Aurora offered was brave, and a little strained.
"Back to England for me. We'll be needing to enlist your care of the cottage again. Just the same as before."
No, Bri thought to herself. Nothing will be the same as before, will it, darling girl?
"And will Suzaku be going with you?"
That smile faded ever so slightly, kept in place by a sheer force of will.
"No. No, he'll be going home."
"Seems he's home to me," Bri observed casually. From where she sat, she could see the way the boy's hair rippled in the breeze, the way his self-possession gentled in the cool afternoon sun. He was happy here; they both were. So why did they insist on leaving? Young people, Bri thought succinctly with an internal head shake and sigh.
"It does," Aurora murmured, almost instinctively, her eyes going a little distant, soft as fog coming in from the sea. Then Bri could see the mental jolt she gave herself. "But I'm afraid the options are limited in this instance."
"When it matters, really matters, options become merely suggestions, Aurora. I must admit I'm surprised that you've limited yourselves to convention with so little fuss. Unless I've completely missed the mark, neither of you are strangers to fuss, or bucking convention." Resting her temple against an index finger, Bri watched the movements of Aurora's expression, more eloquent than the most moving of gospels.
She was in love with him.
Not completely, not enough to make the kind of sacrifice that breed of love most often demanded. But enough to mourn their impending separation, even as she bowed to it. There was so much there, echoing from that heart of hers. Histories and promises, duties and wishes. She couldn't begin to guess at the half of it, but Bri knew that Suzaku wasn't just leaving because he wanted to; in fact, it was likely the opposite. He was leaving because he had to.
It was a pisser, alright, she mused. It was likely akin to what so many generations of women had experienced before; watching their men return to a fight, achingly likely to never return. And like the scores before her, Aurora cloaked herself in a stoicism designed to alleviate guilt.
"No, we're not. But even I can understand when something needs to be done, no matter how I may wish it otherwise."
Bri wanted to shake the lass. Wanted to chide her, for letting love go with barely any fight. For watching a good future stride away with nary a backwards glance. For being strong and proud and a little cold, at the cost of her heart.
But instead of speaking, Bri just laid her hand over the younger woman's. Aurora looked like she needed it. Brianna may be a grandmother, her blush of beauty long faded and her fingers starting to gnarl from a lifetime of work with her hands. But as she gazed out the window, her eyes landing on Pete as he whistled the dogs to come by, pushing a small herd of sheep clockwise around the two men, she remembered with bright, burning clarity the wild, wicked blast of love. The way it could scorch through you before given the chance to bank into a warm ember. How it could cut a good woman off at the knees, and how it could change everything, even if it was strangled into silence. The way it could break people, or make them stronger. Or, somehow, the best, and worst, of all, do both simultaneously.
"Well, lass," Bri murmured quietly, the two women gazing out the kitchen window, hands linked, as they watched their men stand in the milky sun. "As you said. It'll be just the same as before."
Because in the end, it was their decision. Even if she wanted to force their hands and change their minds, as she'd learned with her children, the only life Bri had that kind of power over was her own. Choice was sacred, because there was only one you could control: your own.
Long time, no tease. Hi kids, and welcome to the final hours of our Ireland arc. They're counting down, so strap in. The next section will a 3-4 parter, and I've decided to make it a bit of an event. My goal is to post over the course of a weekend, the first part on a Friday, the second Saturday, etc,. until we've gotten to the end. This of course means you won't be seeing the next chapter till the great big hunk of it is finished – I'm aiming for early July. The story is far from over, but our healing time will have reached its end. Soon enough, we'll be stretching our wings, with the eventual goal of flight.
I'm thrilled that you've all stuck with me this long, and the reality of the journey thus far is nearly overwhelming. These kids are in my blood and my brain, my heart and soul. Come hell or high water, I'll see this through to the very end. If I can promise you nothing else, I can promise you that.
What do you think of it so far?
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango