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Robert saw Aaron go into the cemetery from a distance. He hadn’t been looking for Aaron, but he always seemed hyper aware of him, whenever he bumped into him in the village, needing to be close to him even if he’d given up that right. Aaron didn’t often go to the cemetery, so even though he knew he shouldn’t, Robert followed him. At a distance, because this was private. Grieving, or remembering usually was.
Aaron couldn’t say why he felt the need to visit Jackson today, but he did. It was odd, he didn’t usually feel the pull of this place. It wasn’t a special day, an anniversary or anything, but Aaron had been feeling thoughtful lately. Maybe coming here would clear his head. Maybe it wouldn’t, but it was worth a try. He stood, deep in thought, wondering how he could forgive Robert, and if he really wanted to. Yes, he realised. He did want to forgive Robert for his one mistake. He believed it was once, because Robert didn’t do that level of guilt. For him to be feeling guilt at all meant something. And Aaron knew Robert incredibly well, he knew the guilt wasn’t feigned and that Robert genuinely felt it. Aaron hadn’t been told, but he could probably pin point the day it had happened. The next time he’d seen Robert in prison, he’d been squirming with the guilt, the regret, it was just that Aaron hadn’t wanted to believe it. So he’d gone along with the lie they’d told him that it was just about wrecking the house. It had been a more comfortable truth for him to believe at the time.
A noise had Aaron turning around in surprise. He hadn’t thought the graveyard would be a thoroughfare of activity, and as he heard footsteps, he realised that he’d probably come here for privacy rather than anything else. It was Laurel, not that far away at Ashley’s grave. She smiled at him slightly, and walked over.
“Hi,” she said. “I can leave you alone,” she added, looking at Jackson’s grave.
“No, I was just here to think,” Aaron said. “How are you?”
“Some days are hard,” she said. “But… yeah, think we’re all doing okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “About Ashley, he was a good man.”
“Yes,” Laurel said. “He was. The best father I could ask for for my children too.” Aaron nodded in agreement. “Do you miss him?” she asked, nodding at the grave.
“Is it terrible to say I don’t?” Aaron said, almost in a whisper. “My life’s so different now then what it was then. I’m almost a completely different person, I’ve changed. I can’t imagine how he’d fit in my life now.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Laurel said quietly. “Life goes on, doesn't it? You’ve made a life for yourself.” Aaron flinched and Laurel felt stupid. She knew about Robert’s indiscretions, nothing could be secret in this village for long. “Sorry.”
“You know?”
“You hear things, don’t you?”
“Mm,” Aaron agreed absently.
“Do you love Robert the same way you loved Jackson?” Laurel asked. Then felt insensitive. Surely that wasn’t her place, especially with the things she had heard about Robert’s infidelity. Before she could take it back, Aaron replied.
“No,” he said, quickly and surely. “I mean… Jackson was my first love, and you don’t forget that. But I’m not stupid, we wouldn’t still be together if he hadn’t died.” Aaron turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure… do you ever love two people the same way? I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Robert, and I won’t again either. If someone else came after him, it would be different. Not more or less maybe, but different.”
“I know things are hard for you and Robert right now,” Laurel tried. “I… um… I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m not really in a position to complain to you,” Aaron said. “Ashley’s dead, that’s worse than anything I’m currently dealing with.”
“It’s not a competition,” Laurel said with a kind smile. “I know you love him.”
“I do,” Aaron said. “But I’m not sure I can forgive him.”
“Well forgiveness…”
“Don’t go all churchy on me,” Aaron warned. Laurel actually let out a laugh.
“I’ll always be the vicars wife,” she said, a sad smile there. “Some things won’t ever change.”
Aaron looked at Jackson’s grave, thinking. “There’s so many things I’d do differently. Or not do at all if I could change the past,” he said quietly.
“Do you regret starting things with Robert?” Laurel asked. Yes, Aaron thought. She really was the vicars wife, no matter what happened. But it wasn’t actually a difficult question to answer.
“No,” Aaron said instantly. “Even if we never make it work from this point, for a good… year, maybe a bit more… he made me happier than I thought I could ever be. That I’d ever get in my life. So no, I wouldn’t change that if I could.”
“Aaron.” They both turned, to see Robert there, who from the look on his face had clearly overheard most, if not all of their conversation.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Laurel said, returning to tending Ashley’s grave, offering the two men some privacy. But she did still look at them, watching the way they were with each other. Aaron and Robert were an unlikely couple, which is why when the affair became public knowledge, most people were shocked. The local mechanic, sometimes aggressive, mostly quiet, and the married rich businessman living at Home Farm? It didn’t make a lot of sense. But it was clear that they adored each other, yeah they had their problems, but… who didn’t in this village?
Laurel knew she was being nosey, but she couldn’t help it. If nothing else, it was a distraction from her own grief for a few moments. Robert was pleading, she could see it in his eyes, even from this distance. And Aaron was wavering, she could see that too. The two men moved to sit on a bench nearby, still deep in conversation, but there was no shouting. Laurel would have been able to hear that. She didn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, didn’t want to because it wasn’t her business. She barely knew Robert at all, but she did know that Aaron was a good man, and happier, more content when he was with Robert. She hoped they could make it work, because they were a lot better, a lot more when they were together than apart.