Confused she asked, ‘Whatever would you need to apologise to me for?’
He briefly looked her way. ‘I talked to Loretta.’
‘You always talk to Mum.’
He shook his head. ‘I called last week and asked her not to tell you.’ He quickly added, ‘I wasn’t spying on you, I was worried. I knew she’d wanted you home but we’ve been married long enough that I knew it wasn’t theonly reason you left so willingly for an extended festive break.’ She didn’t deny it. ‘Your mum told me that like you she’d always been one to protest her strength, afraid to show weakness.’ He put a hand over his wife’s to show he wasn’t criticising. ‘The way she talked helped me to see that you were struggling without me realising. She didn’t make me feel bad, she didn’t betray your confidence,but she did mention struggles in her own marriage and it was as though a light went on for me. With you away I could see we’d both let our relationship take a back seat to everything else, without even meaning to.’
Loretta and Everett had always had a mutual respect. Her mum adored having him in the family. She saw him as strong emotionally, a good match for her daughter and he fitted in as thoughhe’d always been there.
‘Are you angry that I called her?’
‘No, well I might have been a few weeks ago,’ Fern admitted, ‘but being here has helped me realise I can’t always be the one to do everything, I can’t stay in control so that nothing bad will ever happen. It’s exhausting. But after Dad died, that’s how I coped. I threw myself into organising everyone else and being the person to turnto. And for a while it worked.’ She paused, not wanting to sound accusatory either. ‘You stopped talking to me when your mum died and that was hard to accept.’
He stared into his cup of wine. ‘I know. But being withdrawn, throwing myself into work, that was my way of coping. I didn’t really know how to let you in, so I guess I just didn’t. And somewhere along the way we stopped investing timein our relationship with one another. It was all about the kids, about work, about anything other than us.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘I see that now too. When Mum told me she and Dad nearly got a divorce it was like a punch in the stomach, not just because of what it would’ve meant for our family, but because it made me see how easily it could happen to anyone. It could happen to us, Everett.’
‘That’s not what I want.’ He leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips, warm, firm, sure, and a forever promise that whatever challenges they were up against, they’d work through them together. ‘I know you’d like me to always be the man you met that day in the Underground, that you want to be the woman I fell in love with. And we’ll always be those people, but we’ve evolved, Fern, it’s the wayof life. I’m more in love with you now than I ever was.’
She put a hand to his cheek. ‘I was jealous of you and the boys when I first called to see how you were. No, let me finish,’ she added before he could ask why. Part of letting go of control was admitting things that she previously might have kept quiet about. ‘You were all having a great time, coping without me. It was really hard to suddenlybecome aware that you could. Part of me felt redundant, but over the time I’ve been in Butterbury I’ve begun to see it a different way. We’re a family and we’re all changing as the years go on, and I don’t need to fight it.’
‘You don’t. And you don’t need to do it on your own. Once in a while, try not to worry that the boys will do themselves a disservice by not getting their five a day. Letthem eat pizza occasionally, buy your own tomatoe sauce rather than slaving away making your own sauce, keep your hair like this,’ he added with a twinkle in his eye, he’d always loved it especially at the start of their relationship when they’d make love and her hair would tumble over him. ‘And occasionally maybe I make you a coffee for you to take on your commute to work.’
She nodded and hesmiled the smile that had almost floored her the first time she saw it.
‘Did you hope we’d all have a miserable time and fall apart without you, beg you to come home?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘A tiny bit, yes. I got used to wanting and needing to do everything myself. Did you resent it?’
‘Sometimes. But I never resentedyou. I’ve always loved your strength, your ability to be the person everyoneturns to.’
‘The boys are growing up fast, they won’t need me for much longer.’
‘They’ll always need you, except maybe not in the same way.’ He clutched her hand. ‘And I’ll always need you, Fern.’
‘Likewise.’ She squeezed his hand in return.
‘You need to schedule time for yourself, too. I have squash games to unwind.’
‘I have cooking.’
‘You need something else. Why don’t you take up runningagain, you always loved it.’
‘Maybe,’ she agreed.
‘And I’m not sure I heard right back at the house but Daisy claimed you’d been on your hands and knees picking vegetables up at the local farm. And she also told me all three of you will be cooking the Christmas lunch this year.’
‘Correct on both counts.’
‘So much has changed in such a short time.’
She hoped so. And when he pulled her againsthim she asked, ‘Were the neighbours upset there was no Christmas party?’
‘There were a few grumbles, but also a few offers to host next year. How would you feel about that?’
‘Honestly?’ She looked him in the eye, her gaze dropping to his lips more than once. ‘More than happy.’
‘So how does this work when we go home?’ Everett asked, his voice peppered with concern.
