Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Seventy-Nine | Hester House, August 1 2021

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Hester House, August 1st 2021

There is a nostalgia that hovers over Hester Grounds. Paths and corridors have ghosts of encounters, conversations and laughter; it is hard to walk these places and not feel it, the life that has taken place. The life that had ended, that had begun.

You could feel it all, soaking into your bones from the floors and walls and very air. And everywhere, the faintest whiff of lavender.

*

Sonia Bowen lay awake in her bed in Ivy House, listening to Charlie snore beside her. His bare back, freckled and scarred, called to her; she traced the constellations and scar tissue gently, pressed her lips to them.

He rolled over, smiling; he had the warmest smile, and Sonia was brought back to years and years ago. Charlie had rolled over, just like that, and smiled – said something about checking on Max, a baby then, or making tea. Maybe a comment on the weather. A hundred scenarios flashed through her mind, and each one made her feel warm and tingly inside.

"Good morning," he whispered, blowing one of his cherry curls out of his eyes. "Happy birthday."

Groaning, Sonia curled into his embrace. "I'm old now."

"Forty-one is not old!" he cried, peppering her face with kisses. "I'm almost fifty, am I old, too?"

She laughed and straddled him, lithe as the days of their youth. "You've always been old to me, cradle robber."

Gasping, he pulled her down for a kiss. "You used to have underwear with bows on them."

"Shut up and kiss me, yeah?"

"As you wish, my one and only love."

"Sap." She mumbled into his freckles.

"Little girl." He teased back, and they tumbled into each other and daylight.

*

Andrew Bowen was still sleeping when his wife woke up. Amara observed him dream, knowing there was still so much to do for the days festivities – but she couldn't stop watching him.

They had had a hard past few years, with Sonia disappearing, Ella and her funk – Robin being so sick. The book, that damn book. It took so much out of Andrew, out of their relationship, but Amara could never ask him to stop. It was something he had needed to do. And now it was done.

A soft sight left Andrew, and his eyes fluttered open to the light. "It's late." He mumbled. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"It's your birthday." She chided him, running her fingers through his thick blond waves. "You deserve a lie in."

"And what about you?" he teased, pulling her close. "What are you still doing in bed?"

"Enjoying my husband at peace."

"Am I usually not?" he asked quietly, brushing her hair back. She had cut it recently, shorter than ever before; he missed seeing her long, cinnamon plait swing behind her.

"No, you are...just, when you sleep – it all falls away, these past years." Amara smiled to show she was okay, she wasn't angry. "You resemble yourself before...before Hazel left. I miss the weightlessness of you at that time."

Andrew rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "She didn't leave Mara, she died." He squeezed her hand. "But I understand."

"I'm sorry." She cuddled closer. "I didn't mean to make you sad, on your birthday, too."