by Maria Ling
"Me, too," Matthew said, grimacing.
"I suppose we could put a time limit on it," Janine suggested. "Spend the next five years on our careers, then review the situation. Things might look very different."
"Or exactly the same."
"In which case, we'll decide then."
"Why five years?"
"Why not?"
Matthew shook his head.
"I don't know. You're right: we don't have to decide it all now. But I wanted to know where you stand."
"I'd like to have children one day," Janine said. She looked softer when she said it, more vulnerable. "I'd like it very much. Now isn't the right time, but in a few years -- who knows?"
"We'll come back to it, then," Matthew agreed. He was breathing easier. A grin spread across his face. "I'd like kids, too. One day. Just not today."
Janine laughed.
"I think it takes a little longer than that."
"Want to practice?"
"Not now." She kissed him. "Maybe tonight. I've got to get ready for work."
Matthew hugged her close.
"I'm scared," he confessed.
"Of what?" She leaned back to study him, grey eyes wide with concern.
"Of failing," Matthew said. "Of not being good enough. Of letting you down."
Janine reached up and caressed his cheek.
"You don't have to be," she said. "We're a team, remember? There's nothing you have to do or be on your own."
A flood of relief gushed over Matthew as she spoke. He realised, with startling intensity, that this was the one thing he'd wanted and waited to hear all his life.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too," Janine whispered. She cuddled close to him, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together. I promise."
***
"I thought we could have my parents over for dinner one evening," Janine said. They were flaked out on the sofa, staring blankly at some murder mystery on the television. She knew she ought to go to bed, but she was too tired to move. Matthew probably felt the same. "You still haven't met them."
"True," Matthew said. "Who'll cook?" He squeezed her shoulders.
"I will," Janine said. "I'll do pasta with peas and fried onions. It sounds weird, but it tastes beautiful. I used to make it all the time when I was a student."
"It's a traditional Italian dish," Matthew said. "Just make sure you use fresh peas and the best olive oil."
"Frozen peas are fine," Janine said. "I should know, it's all I've ever used. And we don't keep bad olive oil in the kitchen, do we?"
"No," Matthew conceded. "Fair enough. You cook. It'll taste great."
"Try to sound as if you mean it."
Matthew laughed.
"I do," he said. "Your taste buds have come a long way in the past few months."
He was even more emphatic a few days later, as all four of them gathered around the birchwood table in the dining area of the open-plan flat. Janine's parents had brought a bottle of Chianti Riserva, earning instant commendation from Matthew, and Janine had to admit that the fresh peas she'd sneaked out to buy did make a difference to the finished dish.
"This is excellent," Matthew said, raising his glass towards her in an informal toast. "Compliments to the chef."
"Thank you." Janine felt her body relax. She had been nervous, wondering how her parents and Matthew would take to each other. She'd worried that their mutual forthright attitude would cause problems. In fact, they got on extremely well.
"Janine was always good at cooking," her mother said. "Of course, she had to do a lot of it. I wasn't very interested myself. Nor were you," she added to her husband. "Of course, you weren't usually home for dinner in any case."
"Not often," Janine's father agreed.
Janine winced to hear them speak of it so lightly. To her, it had meant loneliness and neglect. To them, it was nothing but a dinner-party joke.
She pulled herself together. That was all in the past. She had her own life now, with Matthew and the clinic and this flat. She didn't need her parents any more. It was time to let go, forgive and forget. Time to accept that human beings were flawed and imperfect, that sometimes things just didn't work out the way you'd hoped, but that ultimately all you could ever do was your best.
Her parents had done their best. She was certain of that, and she was glad to have them here in her life.
"I like cooking," she said, and was startled to realise that she did. For so long, she had thought of it as a chore. But the sense of contentment she got from pottering in the kitchen, and from putting wholesome food on the family table, was strong and clear.
"That's lucky," Matthew said, and everyone laughed.
Later, as Janine's parents were leaving, her mother pulled Janine aside for a long hug.
"It's wonderful to see you looking so happy," she said. "I'm glad you've found a nice man at last. Hold on to him. He's worth it."
"Thank you," Janine said, hugging her back. "I think so, too."
CHAPTER 10
The water in Whitby harbour glittered with unseasonal sunshine. It was March, a brisk and blustery month, and Janine had come back to spend a long weekend with Matthew's family, celebrating Stella's birthday. She had clubbed together with Matthew to buy a small oil painting from a Paris artist. It was to be a surprise -- hopefully a pleasant one. Janine had some misgivings. Stella didn't seem the arty type to her. But Matthew said the painting was exactly right for Stella, and he ought to know his own sister.
But Janine wasn't thinking about any of that right now. In this blissful moment, all she was conscious of was joy in the simple act of walking along with Matthew, his arm around her shoulders, the warmth of his body next to hers.
"I've got something to tell you." He stopped in the middle of the bridge, annoying an elderly man with a mangy dog, and stared out at the dimpling water of the harbour. "Actually, something to ask. Want to hear it?"
"Of course," Janine said. She turned her face towards the sun and let the light play over her closed eyes. "What is it?"
"I want to marry you."
Janine turned back to him and opened her eyes. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. But the light that was shining in Matthew's eyes had the sunshine warmth of truth and love.
"Seriously?" Janine asked. Her voice quivered. She could hardly dare to believe she could be this lucky.
"Of course," Matthew said. "I'm always serious. And I think we make a great team. Especially when we're not actually working together. Don't you?"
"We do," Janine said. "The last few months have been wonderful."
"Well, I'd like to make it permanent. So. The question. Will you?"
"Of course I will," Janine said, and cuddled into his arms. His jacket smelled of fresh air. They kissed each other, lips touching and tasting. "When?"
"Today. Tomorrow. Whenever you like."
Janine laughed.
"I think we need a bit more planning than that. I'll have to let my parents know, if nothing else."
"Lucky for me, we can tell my family in ten minutes' time. Less if we hurry." His eyes sought hers. "If you're OK with that?"
"I am," Janine said. "I'm more than OK."
They strolled on towards the restaurant. Warm light spilled out through the windows, easing the gathering gloom. As she came near enough to see in, Janine caught her breath.
It was exactly how she remembered it from when she was a child. The lace curtains, the shark in the window, the friendly clutter on the white tablecloths. And yet it had an extra something that wasn't to do with the details of décor. It had ambience, the atmosphere of warmth and welcome she remembered so well, and that now brought tears into her eyes. It radiated love.
She stepped through the door and looked around, mute and misty-eyed, lost for speech.
"Surprise!"
Stella stepped out from the kitchen, grinning.
"Well, all right," she said. "Not that m
uch of a surprise. But hello anyway." She gave Janine a quick, impromptu hug. "Welcome back. What do you think?"
"It's beautiful," Janine breathed. "It's just as I remember it -- just as it used to be. You've done wonders."
"Thank you," Stella said. "Actually, the new lights helped a bit, and we raised the ceiling when we got the roof repaired. So it feels more airy than before."
"I hadn't noticed," Janine admitted, tilting her head back to check. "But you're right."
"We had the back wall re-plastered as well," Stella said, pointing. "There was too much water damage to fix it up."
"It looks good," Janine said, squinting. "I wouldn't be able to tell the difference."
"You can't see it now that it's been repainted," Stella said. "But. Guess who did the work?"
"I've no idea."
"John. You know John, who used to work in the kitchen here? He's retraining to be a plasterer. Says getting kicked out of this job was the best thing that ever happened to him. It made him pull himself together and start working hard. You actually did him a favour, though I don't imagine you thought so at the time."
"It wasn't me," Janine admitted. "It was Matthew who sacked him. And no, I didn't exactly think that was doing anyone a favour. It seems I was wrong. Not for the first time."
"I'm a saint," Matthew said. "Always told everyone so. Funny how they just don't listen."
"That's because you're mostly talking rubbish," Stella said with breezy indifference. "Oh, look, there's Mum." Mrs Sutcliffe streamed in through the door, smiling beatifically at the little group.
"You came!" Mrs Sutcliffe sailed up to Janine and caught her in an embrace so unexpected that Janine literally gasped for air. "I'm so glad."
"You are?" Janine caught herself, and switched her manners back on. "I mean, so am I. Glad to be here." She blinked at Mrs Sutcliffe, who was holding her at arm's length and taking a good look at her. "You look fantastic."
It was true. Mrs Sutcliffe was a changed woman. Her skin was no longer grey but rosy pink, her mouth was full and smiling, with its corners turned up instead of down. She looked not younger, but like a joyful, loving, vibrant version of herself.
"Thank you, dear," she said now. "So do you."
"How are things with the choir?" Janine asked, wondering if that had something to do with Mrs Sutcliffe's transformation. She was instantly convinced that she'd hit it, for Mrs Sutcliffe's eyes shone with delight.
"Wonderful, thank you. We're due to tour the north of England this summer. York is one of our stops -- I do hope you'll be able to come and hear us."
"I'd love to," Janine said truthfully. She could hardly believe that this was the same woman she'd seen so relentlessly depressed and depressing only a few short months ago.
"Mum's a changed person since she took up singing again," Stella said. "Aren't you, Mum?"
"I can't tell you what a difference it's made," Mrs Sutcliffe said. "I love singing -- I always did. I can't believe, now, that it took me thirty years before I came back to it. I had to laugh the other day, when Stella reminded me. I don't know what I thought I was waiting for."
She stood back and looked at Matthew and Janine. Her eyes were shining.
"You do belong together," she said.
"That's good," Matthew said. "Because we have a surprise of our own for you. We're getting married."
"How perfectly wonderful! Stella will be your bridesmaid, of course. And I know just the woman to play the organ for you. She's a member of the choir, and do you know -- "
Janine and Matthew exchanged a mischievous grin. With Mrs Sutcliffe in full flow, it didn't seem there would be much for them to do but turn up on the day.
"And you must take your honeymoon in France," Mrs Sutcliffe said. "I always wanted to go there for my honeymoon, but we went to Filey instead."
Janine hesitated. She glanced at Matthew, and saw him shaking his head.
"We probably won't take a honeymoon at all," Janine said. A knot of disappointment twisted and tightened in her stomach. "We're both so busy. I've got the clinic, and Matthew's new job is beyond hectic. It's a wonder we get time to see each other at all, even though we're living in the same flat."
"You must," Mrs Sutcliffe decided. "You'll only get married once. Of course, these days, who knows? But you'll only get married for the first time once, in any case, and you must have a honeymoon. I insist on it."
"You'd better take it for us, then," Matthew said. He looked cheerful, but his tone didn't match his face. "Stop it, Mum. Janine and I can sort this out for ourselves. We don't need you telling us what to do. Just be happy for us, and leave it at that."
"You tell him off." Mrs Sutcliffe gave Janine a conspiratorial nod. "You'll be able to, now."
***
"What do you mean, you're not taking a honeymoon?" David's face was a textbook illustration of appalled shock. Ann's was no better. "You're getting married, aren't you?"
"We're both too busy," Janine explained. "You know how fraught things are here, and that's with the two of you pulling your own weight. Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it came out. But the clinic is more than busy, which is great and I wouldn't have it differently -- but it means I really can't go away for a week or more."
"It's supposed to be a month," Ann said mildly. "We could cover for you. My parents would love to come over and look after the kids. It's only for a little while."
"And it's the least we can do," David chimed in. "After all the trouble I've given you this past year. We want to do it."
"That's awfully kind," Janine said. "But Matthew is just as busy as I am. He loves his work."
"You both do," Ann said. There was something distinctly motherly in her tone: a note of 'do as I tell you while I'm still giving you the choice'. It made Janine bristle at first, then smile at her own defensive reaction. "But seriously. It's the start of your life together. Can't you take even one single week out of your professional commitments to be together? Even just this once?"
Janine was about to say no. And then she thought about it, and thought some more.
"You're right," she said at last. "This is ridiculous. Of course you can hold the fort for a week. The patients will survive. I'll talk to Matthew this evening."
"Talk to him now," Ann said, holding out the office phone. "While you're still convinced."
Janine laughed despite herself.
"Good advice," she conceded.
***
"Ladies and gentlemen," Stella said, raising her glass. "I give you the bride and groom."
Janine looked around, her eyes welling up. The little café was filled with friends and family. Her father was entertaining Mrs Sutcliffe with a startling amount of patience, helped by the fact that he used to play the violin in his youth. Their conversation roamed from grace notes to modulations and back again, with no sign of faltering. Her mother was deep in discussion with Dot about finance structures for small businesses. John was settled contentedly at a table at the back, with his wife and a slim girl Janine assumed must be his daughter. Even Tommy had turned up, safe in the company of his no-nonsense aunt.
They were all happy, all cheerful, all lively. But every one of them turned towards her and Matthew, and raised their glasses. The chorus that rang out was like the rushing of a wave.
"The bride and groom!"
"Thank you," Matthew said. He stood up, and rested one hand on Janine's shoulder -- a comforting, reassuring touch. "Thanks to all of you, for being here and sharing this important day with us. So important, in fact, that Janine and I have taken not only today but the whole week off work." Laughter interrupted him. "I know. I can hardly believe it either. In any case, we are off to Tuscany, where we'll eat the second-best food in the world in the company of the second-best people in the world. The best, of course, are right here with us today." Loud applause. Matthew bent over to kiss Janine, and the laughter turned to cheers.
"You've got the tickets, haven't you?" Janine asked. All the arrangements had gone so
smoothly that she was beginning to feel anxious. Surely nothing in life could be as easy as this.
"I've got them," Matthew said, patting his suit jacket. "Have you got the passports?"
"I think so." Janine rooted around for her handbag. "Yes, they're here." The guests had turned back to talking and eating; a general whirr of conversation floated around her. She glanced at her watch. "We'll need to leave fairly soon, if we're to get to the airport in time."
"Relax," Matthew said. "It's our wedding. We've got all the time in the world."
Janine glanced at her watch again. Worry fluttered inside her. She felt elated and exhausted at the same time.
"Are you sure we'll make it?"
Matthew put his arms around her.
"Trust me," he said. "We'll make it."
***
About the Author:
Maria Ling is the romance pen name of fantasy author M P Ericson. She lives on the edge of a moor in Yorkshire, England, surrounded by ruined abbeys and haunted caves. Visit her Smashwords author page for more stories.
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Also by this author:
Making Music
by Maria Ling
Singer-guitarist Jen hasn't seen rock sensation Stuart Markham for years - not since she stormed out on him over an affair with a groupie. But when her best friend Karen gets the old gang together for a charity single, Jen is forced to confront the man who betrayed her - and a passion as intense as what they shared before. Contemporary romance novel.
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A Convenient Marriage
by Maria Ling
Eliza Swann, a butter merchant's daughter, wants to be a fine lady like the ones she reads about in novels. When landed gentleman Edward Dean proposes, she is only too eager to say yes. But marriage to Edward turns out very different from what she expected. Historical romance short story.