Chapter Text
Sometimes Kate did not believe she was truly this happy.
Even in her wildest dreams, she could not have foretold the many joys of her life. A husband that loved her and worshipped the ground she walked on. A son, so happy and loving that she could not quite believe he was not a figment of her imagination rather than a real child born of her own body. And a home, with grounds she could ride horses on and rooms she could make love to her husband in.
Occasionally Kate wished she could write a letter to her six-and-ten year old self and tell her that everything would be alright. More than alright. All the dreams she was packing away, one day she would be able to take them out again and not just look at them but live them.
Perhaps it was a natural consequence of having a child of her own now but she had been thinking of her younger self more often these days. Younger even than the age she had been when she had lost her mother. When she had been Edmund's age, she must have been as happy as he was now, with no idea of what was coming.
And would come again.
She saw it in small ways, even as happy as she was now. When Edmund took his first steps towards his canine brother. When she accompanied Gregory to the University Outfitters for his sub fusc the week before he took up his place at Oxford.
In medium ways, such as when Edwina moved back to India with her husband and Mary said she would follow her, neither of them would stay in England after all.
And in large, horrifying ways too. Like when Francesca’s husband had gone to sleep and never woken up.
Because that's how it was, was it not? And how it would always be. Everyone eventually leaves. One day Kate would be all alone again.
Sometimes she awoke in the middle of the night, her blood cold from the horror of it all. Whilst Anthony slumbered on, his face buried in her hair, she wondered about the day when he too would leave her.
And once that horrible thought had taken root in her mind Kate found it very difficult to weed it out. She certainly attempted to, she tried meditating or distracting herself or sitting down with a ‘True’ and ‘False’ column but it did not work. Everyone would eventually leave her. Edmund would one day grow up and have a life of his own, as would her other children. Her husband would one day die. She listed all these down in the ‘True’ column and stared at the blank ‘False’ column. There was nothing she could write there.
Anthony noticed, and she noticed him noticing. But Kate was not like him. Anthony had not always been the most forthcoming man and she could tell when he was containing so much emotion that he was threatening to overspill- and when he did, it was when he sought her counsel. But Kate knew she was different. She could hide more emotions, press them down deeper. It took longer for her emotions to overspill and when she did she was careful to cry away from Anthony or Edmund or any of the household staff.
But she knew she had not been entirely successful. She could tell by the way the furrow between Anthony’s eyebrows deepened and the way his hands hovered over her shoulder, as though he wanted to touch her but was frightened that he might break her.
Kate wondered if she was more breakable than she thought after all.
Two after Kate had abandoned another ‘True/False’ list, Anthony found her in Edmund’s nursery. He was sleeping, his brown hair glowing in the afternoon sun, his fists bunched up by his cheeks, like he was trying to hold onto his infancy. Kate wanted to tell him not to bother, that he would grow up and leave her and that was the right thing to do.
She looked up as Anthony entered. Attempted a smile. He smiled back warmly, relieved and Kate felt her heart break a little. She hated anything that caused Anthony pain and if she was the one that was causing him pain, well then. She hated herself.
“If Edmund’s asleep, let the nurse attend to him,” said Anthony softly, “come with me. We’ll have a picnic by the lake.”
He held his arms out and for the first time Kate noticed the two wicker baskets in the crook of each elbow. She was too intrigued to deny him and, after kissing Edmund’s forehead, she followed Anthony to the stables where their horses were waiting, already saddled up. Anthony fixed the picnic baskets to each side of their horse and they rode out across the grounds.
For the first time in a while, Kate felt alive again. The wind felt good against her face, throwing her hair away from her neck and shoulders. The horse beneath her was one of her favourites, steady and fast, a confident jumper.
They tied their horses to a tree by the lake. Anthony gallantly spread a blue checked blanket out on the grass and Kate curiously unpacked the picnic baskets.
“Surely you did not pack this yourself!”
“Cook packed them, but I made some suggestions,” said Anthony, smiling at her.
There was indeed a feast, two different kinds of sandwiches, scotch eggs and pork pies, samosas and mutton rolls, scones with clotted cream and hedgerow jam, fruit including dried mango and dried figs (God only knew where Anthony had found those), gulab jamun and laddu, an enormous plumb cake and a bottle of wine with which to wash it all down.
The fresh air and spirited ride had worked up Kate’s appetite and she indulged herself, describing to Anthony all the different Indian sweets, letting him feed her small morsels, giggling as he licked cream and jam off her fingers.
Later he lay against a tree and she lay against him, glass of wine in one hand, dried figs in the other. She felt content, full of love and food and no small amount of alcohol. Anthony’s chest was firm against her head and his heartbeat, a lullaby. She was enjoying Anthony’s left hand stroking her hair and his right lightly caressing her breasts when he spoke.
“I wish you would confide in me, Kate. I know there has been something troubling you.”
Kate placed her nearly-empty wine glass on the ground and touched Anthony’s cheek behind her.
“It is nothing. Truly.”
“Kate,” Anthony whispered, quiet enough to be a hiss, “I talked to you when I was struggling and it helped. Tremendously. I cannot bear the thought of you suffering like I was- or worse- and especially if I can help you like you helped me.”
“You cannot help me,” said Kate, “it does not work.”
“What is it?” Anthony demanded, worried.
Perhaps it was the food and wine that loosened her tongue. Perhaps it was the comfort of his body supporting hers. Or because it was because she could not see his face, that Kate finally confessed.
“Everyone will leave me eventually.”
Anthony tightened his arm around her body.
“I can categorically refute that.”
“My parents have left. Edwina and Mary have also. One day Edmund will want his own family and leave us.”
“Leave us darling, I will never leave you.”
“You will. You have already promised as such.”
“Never. When?”
“When you commanded me to outlive you.”
There was silence. Anthony’s hands paused, as did his breathing. Only his heart continued beating.
“Kate, I did not mean-”
“I know you did not,” said Kate softly, “but that is what I mean. My mother left, as did my father. As will you. As it has been and will be with every two people that have ever been in love. One always leaves first.”
“Kate-“
“And I know this is not what you want from me,” said Kate and her emotions were over spilling now, tears falling from her eyes to be caught by Anthony's patient hands, “this is your greatest fear, leaving me and I am unable to function after and I will be able to function I promise, I can be strong, I will be strong-”
Her tears became too much for her and she could not continue. She wept openly and Anthony manoeuvred her in his lap, turned her around so she was sideways to him, tucked her head under his chin, cheek against his chest, and held her, stroked her hair, whispered soothing endearments to her like he did to Edmund when he awoke in the middle of the night needing his Appa or Amma.
“You are strong,” said Anthony when Kate's sobs had subsided, “your tears are not proof of weakness, Kathani. You can feel however you wish when I die. Just be with me now.”
Kate looked up at him. Anthony's own eyes had welled up and Kate wiped them dry with her thumbs.
“I did not mean to make you cry,” she said softly.
“I love you,” said Anthony simply, “as your joy is my joy, your sorrows are my sorrows.”
“I know how that feels,” Kate said, tucking her head back under Anthony's chin, “I think our fears are similar too, even if not entirely the same.”
Anthony stroked Kate's bare arm. The motion was comforting and Kate sighed against Anthony's neck.
“I found your ‘True/False’ list,” said Anthony, “I was not snooping, I swear, I merely saw it on top of your desk.”
“You saw then that the ‘False’ column was blank,” Kate sighed, “I cannot think of an alternative perspective to any of the truths. It is a fact that those I love will leave eventually. We will all die, that is the natural way of things. Edmund will leave home eventually, that is as it should be. I cannot counter any of that.”
“I cannot either,” said Anthony, “But I am trying.”
Kate smiled, despite herself. She loved him, loved that he wanted to help her, loved that if there was a way to stop death itself, he would. For her.
“I do not think there is a way,” said Kate, after neither of them had spoken for some minutes.
“I do not either. But I love you. Only death will take me away from you. Surely that counts for something.”
“It counts for everything. I think this is why my ‘True/False’ chart did not work. Some things we just have to accept. Like death.”
“That is depressing.”
“That’s life,” said Kate, looking up at the tree. It was almost autumn now. The leaves would turn gold, then brown, then drop entirely, leaving the branches bare. But then spring would come. The branches would sprout buds that would turn into blossoms and eventually be green leaves, then brown. And the cycle would continue as it always had, as it always would.
“Perhaps we will find each other again,” said Kate.
Anthony snorted.
“No perhaps about it. I will find you again in our next lives. I found you in our last.”
“Did you now?” said Kate, amused now.
“Do you remember when we first met?”
“How could I forget?”
“When I saw you for the first time, riding in Hyde Park, I had this feeling of contentment. Of completion. It was as if I had been running for so long and I could finally stop and rest. I know now that it was love but I wonder if it was also familiarity or recognition. As if I had been looking for you all my life and I had found you at last.”
Kate kissed him. Slowly and deeply. Anthony's response was love itself, comfort and surety and passion and affection.
Later, Kate watched the sun set behind Edmund’s crib, Anthony’s arms wrapped around her. Her fears of the future finally felt very far away.
The three of them slept the whole night through.