AN: This can be read alone, but is really better following "Giving and Sharing." It's going to have a second piece/chapter to it, which I hope to have out soon!
I own nothing from Murder, She Wrote.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
111
Grady was trying to land some big wig customer for the new company that he was working for now. The big wig in question was some rich eccentric that was living about an hour away from Cabot Cove and, as part of his demands, would only work with "locals," though Seth got the distinct impression that the man wasn't exactly a "local" himself.
At any rate, Seth understood that people who acquired a certain amount of money were granted unspoken rights by society, and one of those rights was to make unusual demands without having to explain them in great detail.
Though they had only seen him once, lately, Grady had been several times to visit this individual, in an attempt to get him to sign some papers saying that the money he had to be handled—part of which, of course, would go to the proverbial handlers—was going to be entrusted to Grady and, by extension, to the company that hired him. During the discussions with Grady, the man had apparently inquired about Grady's name and, upon learning that his aunt was J.B. Fletcher, the mystery writer—and, apparently, was a favorite writer of this individual—he'd had a new "request" added to his list of already overwhelming and bizarre demands.
He wanted to meet J.B. Fletcher, and he wanted her to spend a few days with him at his estate—since he was, from what Seth had gleaned, one of those individuals that was rich enough to insist on referring to his home as an "estate."
Seth wasn't one of those people who pretended to never be jealous. He felt jealousy, and he didn't see any reason in keeping that a secret.
He was, however, willing to push his jealousy aside and let Jessica go, for several reasons, but that didn't mean that the thought of her in the presence of another man didn't prick something within him—at least a little.
Seth trusted Jessica, of course, and for that reason he wasn't worried that anything would happen. Besides that, he knew full-well that it had taken a lot of time and effort to get her to even allow their relationship to grow into what it was. She wasn't the kind of woman that ran around looking for the next man to catch in her web. If that didn't comfort him enough, Seth could simply take comfort from the fact that Grady was there, and he knew Jessica well enough to know that she wouldn't do anything too risqué in Grady's presence. After all, when Grady stayed the night with them, even as a full-grown man, Jessica still prompted Seth to be as quiet as possible during any love making that she may agree to, so that there was little to no chance that Grady would overhear.
Another reason, though, that Seth had practically pushed Jessica out the door with her suitcase, a kiss from him, and the wish that she would have a wonderful time, and into the car that had been sent for her, was that he had something to prepare for the celebration of her eleventh week of pregnancy with their child.
So, while Jessica was off trying to help Grady land an account that would help him be a little more financially secure, Seth had spent the time when he wasn't working, putting things together and doing his best to make sure that Jessica didn't realize—and that nobody else reazlied, for that matter—what he was doing.
Seth purchased a comfortable garden bench. He had it delivered, but did his best to keep concealed the reason for the purchase. The garden area where he wanted the bench was as nice as any other part of Jessica's yard, and it was mostly unremarkable—at least for the time being. Seth hadn't made a big to-do about it. When the bench was delivered, he showed them where he wanted it, and that had been that.
Seth's second purchase was a bit more delicate. He wanted to avoid the Cabot Cove rumor mill, so he'd driven to a nearby town, after calling information for several locations to find out if they had what he wanted, and he'd made his selections.
"Anything in particular you're looking for?" The old man who had run the place asked, as he followed Seth among the tables laden with his wares.
"I'll know when I see it," Seth said. He had put just enough irritation in his voice to try to push the old man into leaving him be, but it hadn't taken all that well. There had only been one other person in the place, so he'd assumed the man's desire to practically tail him had more to do with boredom than any genuine interest in what Seth was doing.
The truth was that Seth hadn't known exactly what he was looking for. He'd hoped that he really would know, somehow, what he wanted, when he saw it.
He'd hoped that he would magically make the right decision, while also accepting that it was possible that nothing he chose was going to be a good choice.
Finally, he had felt that he had made the best choices he could. Despite the fact that he'd chosen the stones from among tables of stones that were similar, he'd felt like he needed to be reverent with them.
"Pets or…?" The old man had asked.
"Or," was all that Seth had responded. He'd paid for his purchases, loaded them carefully in the car, and taken them home.
The largest stone said "Rest with the Angels, Until We Meet Again."
He'd placed it as centrally as he could to the two rocks that were, honestly, unremarkable as long as someone didn't question why they were there, somewhat out of place and alone, with no other rocks in the immediate vicinity.
The two rocks marked tiny graves in a small garden area of Jessica's yard—graves that were, otherwise, entirely indistinguishable from the grass around them. They were carefully tended, not overgrown, and tucked away to allow for a little privacy to any mourner who might come and, taking a seat on the grass, choose to be alone with their thoughts and memories.
"What memories do I really have?" Jessica had said, when she'd shown Seth the little plots that he'd never really noticed before.
"I won't hear it, Woman," was all that Seth had said. He wasn't trying to be harsh with her. On the contrary, all he'd done, since Jessica had told him the details of her losses, was to try to help her with the grieving that he was certain she'd simply never let herself fully experience. She had beliefs—and Seth didn't share them—that someone had clearly planted in her head, somehow.
Her babies had never lived outside her body, and so she'd doubted that she had a right to call herself a mother, and that Frank had had the right to call himself a father—despite the fact that they had clearly wanted and loved the little ones that they'd so lovingly buried here when their short, precious lives were through.
Seth had assured her that she was as much a mother as any other mother, and she was allowed to feel the grief of having lost her children.
Following her confession that she enjoyed tending the little plots, pulling the weeds and making sure the nearby flowers were cared for while she spent time simply thinking of the babies, the hope and the love she'd had for them, and the love that Frank had had for them, Jessica had also confessed that she didn't believe that her memories, as they were, mattered as much as anyone else's memories of their lost loved ones.
Seth was of the belief that they mattered every bit as much, and he was determined to support her in holding onto what precious memories she did have.
Now, she could rest on her knees out there, when and if she liked, just to be closer to her babies, but Seth had placed the bench for her as well. If she would like—and if she would allow—he could sit with her while she spent whatever quiet time in contemplation her heart and soul may sometimes need.
He placed the largest, carved stone in a somewhat central location. Then, carefully, he moved each of the little rocks to place a stone on each small grave that said "Forever in Our Hearts." After he was satisfied with the placement of each stone, he'd put the tiny rocks back, beside the bigger, decorative stones.
Grief, he knew, was a strange and made odd demands of every grieving soul. The things that were meaningful to the grieving heart could seldom be accurately explained to someone outside of grief.
Frank and Jessica had chosen those little rocks, and they had placed them on those graves. As Jessica had tended those little patches of ground throughout the years, with everything marking the plots, except for the rocks, fading into nothing more than memory, she had likely touched those rocks many times. Seth had seen her lean down to touch the rocks, after all, when she'd shown him the plots, and from that moment, he could easily imagine her caressing them—the only act allowed to a grieving mother who couldn't touch the children she ached for even now.
He wouldn't dare to move the little rocks too far or get rid of them altogether. No matter how nice his stones may be, or how much she may appreciate his efforts to help create a nice memorial for the babies, those little rocks were likely far more precious to her than she would ever dare to let on.
When Seth was satisfied with the space, he sat down on the bench and overlooked what he'd done.
It would never be a happy place, per se, but at least it could be a peaceful place, Seth supposed.
The day when Jessica was due home, Seth had practically been on pins and needles. Previously, he had expressed to her his desire to make the space something nice for her, but she'd dismissed him—mostly out of what he believed was some sort of deep-seated belief that she didn't deserve for it to be a nice space—and he hoped that she would enjoy his attempts to make things nice for her, instead of being cross that he'd done something without her explicit permission.
He had several appointments that afternoon, and he kept watching the clock. Jessica knew that he was coming home for supper, but he'd told her to worry only about her own lunch. He hoped that she wouldn't venture out back until he got home, and he'd encouraged her to take a nap when she got home, hoping that might deter her from uncovering his gift before he was able to be home and present it to her properly.
When Seth had a cancellation for an afternoon appointment, he'd rushed home to make good use of the pocket of time allowed to them.
"Seth! What are you doing home? I didn't expect you until after five."
Seth had surprised Jessica completely, and he found that oddly pleasing. He'd managed to catch her off-guard, sitting at the kitchen table, and he realized that the simple sight of her there was enough to make his heart pound in his chest. After he'd lost Ruth, he'd never imagined that there would ever be anyone who would make him feel like a teenager again, but Jessica did.
"Don't get up, Woman," Seth said, waving her back down when she started to stand and abandon the food she was eating. She ignored him.
"What are you talking about?" She asked, dismissing his words. "I haven't seen you in days!"
She was in his arms before he could say anything else. She was kissing him. He focused on the feeling of his arms encircling her. He flexed his fingers, massaging her body underneath them.
She moaned into his mouth.
"How long do you have?" She asked, pulling out of the kiss.
Immediately, Seth's anatomy responded with piqued interest to the question. His face grew warm and he cleared his throat. He was too old to act like a teenager in response to Jessica's every touch or suggestion, but his body didn't seem nearly as aware of that as his brain was—or as it should be, really, given the limitations that time naturally placed upon him, from time to time.
"Not long, Jess," he said.
She smiled at him, mischievously.
"It wouldn't take long," she said, her voice ticking upward just slightly. "In fact—we could be as quick as you like."
Seth wasn't sure what to do. He recognized, very clearly, that he was at what he considered a very crucial point—he had just enough blood still going to his brain to be able to make a decision, but he also had enough starting its journey elsewhere to feel that his decision-making abilities were very strongly affected.
He distracted himself and Jessica, for just a moment, to gain the upper hand of his own feelings.
"What on Earth were you eating, Woman?" He asked, still tasting the lingering effects of her kiss. She jumped slightly, almost as if she'd been burned or pricked by a needle. Seth glanced at the table. He frowned at her. "Jess—what is that? Pineapple, pickles…"
"And cheese and crackers," Jessica said.
Seth shook his head.
"And you think that's good, Woman?" He asked with a laugh.
"What's wrong with it?" She asked, still in his arms and, clearly, comfortably relaxed there. Seth didn't mind holding her, and he was thankful for the clarity that a moment of distraction had given him.
"Nothing," he said. "It looks—just like what our baby would pick out for the both of you to enjoy."
Jessica looked at him a little wide-eyed with surprise. They were both still adjusting to the fact that the baby was real, and he wondered, sometimes, if they both might be adjusting to that until the moment that they got to look at the baby in the hospital for the first time.
"It's a reasonable snack," Jessica defended.
Seth kissed her.
"It's a wonderful snack," he said. "She's just—got you craving things, and that's fine, Jess." He cleared his throat. "I don't have long enough to satisfy your other cravings, Jess, and to show you what I came home to show you. Do you think—this'll keep until I get home?"
He squeezed her, gently, and swayed her just a little on her feet. She smiled at him.
"I can wait if you can," Jessica said.
"Your craving for me won't fade?" Seth asked. She hummed and gave him that little naughty smile that he appreciated from her so much.
"I've been craving you for days, Mr. Hazlitt," she teased. "Since I left."
"Hold onto that craving, Mrs. Hazlitt, and I'll make it worth your while tonight."
"I'm holding you to your promise," Jessica said.
Recognizing that there would be no quick bout of love-making to scratch any proverbial itches, Jessica pulled out of the hug with Seth and selected a piece of pineapple from the bowl on the table, the remnants of her snack—or lunch, whichever she may consider the assortment of foods to be—still waiting for her return when she wanted more.
"You can count on it," Seth said. "But—I did come home for a reason."
She furrowed her brow at him and swallowed the bite of food.
"Is something wrong, Seth?" She asked.
"No," he said quickly. "Nothing's wrong. It's just—I arranged something of a surprise for you, and I wanted to give it to you before you stumbled upon it and ruined the surprise, Jess."
"A surprise?"
"It's about to be eleven weeks, Jessica," Seth said.
She shook her head.
"Seth—you don't have to do something for me every week," she insisted.
"You're right about that. I don't have to do a damn thing, Jessica, except for die and pay taxes," Seth said. "I do what I want to do, and I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to."
She laughed quietly and shook her head.
"I hear you loud and clear, Seth," she said. "I won't say another word about it."
"Good," Seth said. "All I want you to do is—enjoy it."
Jessica came back to him and he took her in his arms when she reached her arms out to him. She kissed him, this time so tenderly that a shiver involuntarily ran the full length of his spine and he couldn't help but groan.
"You said we had to wait, remember?" Jessica teased, leaning her head against him.
"I said wait," Seth said. "I didn't say I wasn't going to anticipate it all afternoon."
Jessica laughed.
"What is it, Seth, that you want to give me? It must be important for you to turn down the chance to…give me something else."
She laughed at her own teasing, and Seth did, too.
"It is important. Very," Seth said sincerely. "But—Jess—before I show you what I did, just know…however you feel, I accept and I'll support you. No matter what. But…just know that I did it with the best of intentions, Woman. Keep that in mind, OK?"
She looked worried, and Seth assumed that was rightfully so.
"It's nothing bad, Jess," Seth assured her. She looked a little doubtful. He smiled at her, to try to soothe over any concern. "It's easier just to show you. Come on, Woman."
He took her hand in his, and he tugged her toward the back door, hoping all the while that he'd done the right thing.