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Date Posted: 08:23:08 05/26/09 Tue
Author: celtgirl
Subject: Mr. and Mrs. Riordan- it's just a small snippet of a larger scene and has a bit of a spoiler in it. >>>
In reply to: celtgirl 's message, "I've opened the windows to air the place out. The geraniums are blooming in the windowboxes, and the lace curtains are steeped in spring sunshine. The tea of course is on- not sure who is coming by to visit, but I'm quite certain someone is. :)" on 15:07:55 05/25/09 Mon

copyright 2009 Cindy Brandner


She was utterly relaxed, and she realized, utterly happy. Their home had become their sanctuary from the world, and inside it, with the fires lit, and the kettle on the stove, even Belfast and its bloody troubles seemed far away.

The house was freshly whitewashed, the sills gleaming a deep emerald,in the late evening light. Casey had just re-painted them a few weeks before. The roses were laden with bloom, perfuming the air so thickly that she could taste them on her tongue.

Casey was perched at the top of the hollow in which their house sat, applying mortar to fix a crumbling spot in the stone wall, he was also swearing vociferously at a stone that had fallen on his foot and then rolled merrily down the hill and looked to have picked up enough speed to keep going until it hit the stream. Casey shrugged his shoulders and laughed, and looked to where his wife sat.

"I love you,” she said softly, so quietly he could not have heard, but he understood the shape of her lips well enough and smiled, before returning the words. She sighed, arching her back slightly, the baby heavy and solid in her body, making her ligaments and bones achy with the need and weight of it. There was relief in her sigh too, though for entirely different reasons. She had worried for a very long time, that they would not get back their trust and intimacy, as they had known it before. But time and honesty, and a rebuilding stone by stone, of their former trust, had given them back their love whole. She knew it without even asking Casey, felt it in the way he was with her, in his talk and gestures, in the instinctual way their life had resumed its natural dance, and it was, perhaps, most apparent in the utter vulnerability they gave one another in their bed, the return of which had caused her to weep with gratitude later.

As though he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Casey walked over and sat down on the bench beside her, placing an arm about her, dispersing the slight chill that had settled on her skin, with the encroachment of night.

She snuggled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder and breathing in the scent of him, a thing that always eased the tension in her body and made her feel entirely secure.

“You’ll want to get the stones set before we go in,” she said making to sit up. He pulled her back gently.

“It’ll wait, work always does, it never seems to disappear overnight, much as a man might wish it would. You’d a very peaceful look about ye, Jewel. What were ye thinkin’ about?”

“How happy I am,” she said, twining her fingers with his, and feeling the slight friction of dirt on his skin and the hard reassurance of his palm against her own.

“Ye’ve seemed happy, it’s as though a deal of tension just slipped out of ye at some point an’ ye’ve settled in to this life of ours like it was always waitin’ for ye.”

“It was,” she said, “and you were, just as I was waiting for you, but never knew it until I saw you.”

They sat thus, quiet, while slowly the trees boughs lost their individual shapes, and became part of the darker whole, the slip from twilight to true dark, that time of night when the other took hold, and the subconscious bloomed with its night thoughts, making piecemeal of the reasoned judgements that took place in the light of day.

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