Work Text:
The woman sat on the porch, smiling, watching as her ten-year old daughter and the few remaining stragglers from the birthday party played in the yard. She looked down at the envelope in her hands, turning it over in her palm.
The screen door leading into the house opened, and an older woman stepped outside, wiping her hands on her yellow apron. "Okay, I think we're all done," she said. "I guess I shouldn't be amazed by how much mess a bunch of ten-year-olds can create, but I always am."
The woman smiled. "Thank you for working today, Jeannie. I couldn't have done it without you."
"It was no problem, Dr. Lindsey. I wouldn't have missed this for the world." She paused, looking over her employer. "Can I get you anything? You look a little tired. Some tea?"
"That would be lovely, thank you."
Jeanette nodded and returned to the house. Anne pulled her sweater around her thin frame a bit more tightly, feeling a bit of a chill creeping into the late-autumn air. She turned the envelope over once again, noting the same return address as last year: a London law firm. She finally broke the wax seal and unfolded the heavy paper.
"Dear Dr. Lindsey," the letter read. "On behalf of our client, Duncan MacLeod, please be advised we have deposited the sum of $US 5,000.00 into the educational trust account previously established for your daughter, Mary, at Seacouver First National Trust, on the occasion of her tenth birthday. This gift accompanies Mr. MacLeod's fondest wishes for your daughter's health and happiness. Should you have any questions regarding the foregoing, please do not hesitate to contact the undersigned..."
Anne looked over at Mary again, smiling as she dove into a pile of fallen leaves. The letter was the same as she had received last year, and the year before that, and every year since Mary's first birthday. The letter always prompted mixed feelings. She was truly happy that Duncan cared for Mary and took the time to remember her, and although it wasn't necessary, to help provide for her future. Given Duncan's yearly contributions and the interest the trust earned, the kid would be able to go to anywhere in the world she wanted to study anything she wanted, tuition inflation or no.
But the letters were also a reminder, a hint of what might have been, and Anne couldn't avoid the melancholy feelings. Especially at this time of year, when the leaves were falling, the days ever shorter. They had met in the fall, eleven years ago now, and her life had been forever changed by what followed. If it hadn't been for Duncan's "death" in that theater, she probably never would have sought out Mary's father, would never have conceived Mary. And Mary was a daily joy, something she never could, never would, regret.
And yet. And yet. If there hadn't been a child, if she hadn't feared for her child's safety, could she and Duncan have stayed together, had a chance at a life together? She loved Duncan, more than she had ever loved any man, and she would never know if they could have found a way to live together, found happiness with each other. She'd put her child first and never regretted the decision, not for a moment. She wished he could still be a part of their lives, but Duncan had kept his distance, choosing to ensure their safety instead. Knowing he was still alive brought her joy and sadness at the same time.
It was the way it had to be, she knew. But her sense of longing, of chances missed, would never fully disappear, and she knew that as well. She had her daughter, and Duncan had his life, and that would have to be enough.
~ end ~