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Wales has always held a piece of Henry’s heart.
As a child, his family would steal away when they could, his dad in the driver’s seat next to his mum, and Henry stuck between Bea and Pip in the back, for he was the smallest of the three of them. To his left, Bea would wiggle around in her seat and play hours-long games of I-spy with their Dad. To his right, Pip would have his nose buried in a novel. Sometimes, he’d even tell Henry all about it, if Henry asked at the right moment.
Then, they’d follow a curve in the road, and the house would come into view. Tucked away in the Carmarthenshire countryside, Llwynywermod waited for them, surrounded by its neatly kept gardens and acres of soft green grass and rolling hills.
The white stone farmhouse had been butter yellow inside, with lacy white curtains over the windows and dark, finely carved oak furniture decorating the large rooms. The kitchen floor had been stone; icy cold in winter, but necessary to cross to haul in firewood to keep the sitting room fire steady. A necessary evil, for the sitting room had been Henry’s favourite - bathed in firelight, cozy and plush, he and his family had often retired to it and played cards and watched films together after a hearty dinner of stew and bread. Once, Arthur had even let Henry have a sip of white wine and had sworn him to secrecy.
Many of his memories at Llwynywermod involved sharing a room with Bea and Pip, huddled under blankets while their parents fussed over them, reading them stories and kissing them goodnight. As the youngest, he had been crammed in the middle, but he hadn’t minded. The press of Pip and Bea on either side of him soothed him to sleep, and he never had to fight for the blanket.
Henry blinks out of his memories as a loud squawk emanates from the back seat. He glances at Alex, his brown knuckles clenched around the steering wheel and his eyes darting between the winding road in front of them and his rear view mirror.
“Sunny,” Alex says warningly.
“I want to watch Princess and the Pauper!” Calida cries from the seat directly behind Henry.
“We watched it yesterday!” Isabel argues. Henry turns in time to watch her make an attempt for the iPad clutched in Calida’s hands.
“Bel,” he admonishes, raising his brows at his eldest.
“Daddy,” she says back so seriously that Henry has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.
“Princess and the-”
“I don’t want to watch Princess and the Pauper!”
“It’s MY turn, though!” Calida crows so loud Walker twitches in his sleep. “You chose last time so IT’S MY TURN!”
“Calida,” Henry warns. She turns her big hazel eyes on him, red-rimmed with the beginnings of tears. Her bottom lip wobbles and Henry’s stomach clenches. “Don’t cry, little love,” he says, softer this time. “How about we find something you both want to watch?”
“Swan Lake!” Bel interjects.
Calida whips her head around and glares at her older sister. Henry can see her annoyance rising to the surface, her face turning scarlet as Bel kicks her feet innocently and tosses her braid over her shoulder.
“We’re almost there, anyway,” Alex says from the front seat.
“How about we play a game instead?” Henry suggests. Calida narrows her eyes, but Bel considers him with interest.
“Like what Daddy?”
“Erm…” Henry hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Punch buggy!” Bel crows.
“No,” Alex and Henry say firmly. Calida rolls her eyes and huffs.
“Who can scream the loudest?” she offers.
“Absolutely not,” Henry tells her. Beside him, Alex coughs to hide a chuckle.
“What game then?” Calida whines, exasperated.
“Those are silly suggestions,” Isabel says primly. “Papi, can we play guess the song?”
“Walker is asleep, sweetheart,” Alex reminds her.
“We can just wake him up!” Calida points out.
“I’ll do it,” Isabel says quickly.
“I want to do it!”
“Neither of you are doing it,” Henry says in as stern a voice as he can muster. He’s fading fast after a day in the car and swapping with Alex every so often. There’s something about driving with his children in the back that has him tensing up behind the wheel, laser-focused for hours until Alex gently directs him to pull over, and he finally gets to slump forward, exhausted.
“We’re almost there,” Alex repeats patiently. “Ten minutes, alright?”
“Soooo, Walker will have to wake up anyway?” Calida asks innocently.
“In ten minutes,” Henry repeats to his daughter.
Calida sighs dramatically and lolls her head to the side. “Daddy,” she says softly.
“Nine minutes,” Henry tells her. He reaches around with his left hand, a comforting gesture, and she giggles, placing her foot in his palm instead of her hand. “Silly,” he reprimands teasingly.
“Do it Daddy, do it!”
Henry laughs. “Alright. This little piggy,” he wiggles her little toe, smiling as she bursts into giggles, “went to the market and this little piggy stayed home…”
—
Their redbrick cottage sits on the outskirts of Penybryn in north Pembrokeshire, two stories tall with a garden that stretches on as far as his eyes can see.
Alex and Henry had bought the cottage in their late twenties before children had crossed their minds. A small slice of paradise in the middle of the Welsh countryside; a place to retreat to when life got too busy and the responsibilities too heavy to bear. Every so often, they had chartered a plane to Wales and hired a car to drive from Cardiff to the countryside.
Looking back, Henry thinks they might have both lied to themselves about the ‘no children on their mind’ thing. Why else would a couple buy a three-bedroom cottage?
Henry smiles and glances over at Alex. They’re in the kitchen together, preparing dinner before the wide open windows as their children watch a movie in the lounge room behind them. Alex is cutting carrots diligently, his brow furrowed and bottom lip jutted out in that adorable way it does when he’s concentrating.
Alex knows all about Llwynywermod and what it meant to Henry as a child. He also knows Wales makes him feel closer to his father. And, somehow, he had known before Henry had, before they’d even seriously contemplated children, that Henry would want to give something like Llwynywermod to his family. The realisation unmoors him for a long moment, his knuckles white where they clutch the knife and potato.
He puts down the potatoes he’s slicing and sidles up behind his husband, wrapping his arms around Alex’s middle. Alex’s warmth immediately seeps into him, the familiarity of his soft cinnamon and sandalwood smell comforting. Henry nuzzles into the back of his neck and presses a soft kiss to the side of it, squeezing him lightly.
“Hi baby,” Alex tells him conversationally, but he shivers under a second press of Henry’s lips. “Whatcha up to?”
“I love you,” Henry tells him simply, squeezing him again and kissing his curls. There are a few strands of grey in them now, and he makes sure to kiss them too.
“And I love you more,” Alex says cheerfully. He senses Henry’s mood, though, and hurries to put down the knife, grinning as Henry flips him.
Henry palms his hips and smiles softly down at his husband. He’s as handsome as he was twenty years ago; more, perhaps, if that’s possible. “I think,” he says slowly, the words familiar on his tongue, etched onto the tip from years and years of repetition, “that’s up for debate.”
Then he kisses Alex, smiling into it as Alex makes a soft, breathy sound into his mouth. He loves Alex beyond what words can convey, loves him so fiercely he has no choice but to show him by pinning him against the kitchen bench and kissing him senseless about it. He’s so lost in the taste of Alex and the arms wrapped tightly around him that he doesn’t immediately comprehend the loud squeak sound he hears.
Alex pulls back, his eyes over Henry’s shoulder. In the next room, there’s a loud stage whisper of, “Ew, they’re kissing again!”
His eyes lock with Alex’s, and they snicker in unison at the chorus of ewww that follows.
—
The hill in the backyard at Llwynywermod had been the first spot he’d peered through a telescope, Arthur’s palm warm on his back and his low voice recounting the mythology of old couched in children’s terms. The big bear and the little bear, the dragon twisting through the skies and the winged horse racing toward freedom.
Henry had been so small and the sky so big, and he simply hadn’t known how to comprehend the magnitude of the world before him. Suddenly, he’d found himself crying for some inexplicable reason, warm tears running down wind-bitten cheeks.
“Henry,” Arthur had said softly, sinking to a squat in front of him and peering up at him, face soft and open. “What is it?”
He had gasped for air, his huffs coming out like white smoke. “It’s so much,” he’d choked out and pressed a hand to his chest. “In here.”
“Oh, darling,” Arthur had said, pulling him close. His dad had been warm and strong, a safe haven smelling of lemon soap and his woody aftershave. “My precious son. It’s alright, Henry,” he had soothed, stroking Henry’s fine blond hair.
“Why does it hurt so much?”
Arthur had paused momentarily before resuming stroking Henry’s hair. “Sometimes,” he had murmured in his strong, clear voice, “some very special people are born with their hearts on the outside of their body. Their hearts are too big and bright and beautiful to be contained inside them. Does that make sense?”
He had pulled Henry back and stared beseechingly at him then, his eyes a shade lighter than Henry’s own. “Yes, Daddy,” Henry had said, though at the time he hadn’t entirely grasped the ramifications of such a thing. “But, what happens if I…” he had touched his chest and wiggled his hand, trying his best with his limited vocabulary to explain himself. “What if it’s too much?”
“Then,” Arthur had told him simply, “you come to me. You can talk to me about anything, Henry. Anything.”
And that … that had been comforting because his dad had never not come when Henry needed him. Except … except lately he had been away more. Working. He had asked them all - Pip, Bea and Henry - if they would be alright with him going away for work for a little while, and they had said yes.
Henry hadn’t wanted to say yes. But he also wanted to make his dad happy. And his dad had been smiling as he told them about his new job, and he didn’t want that smile to go away, so he said yes and hugged him very, very, very tight, and he didn’t cry at all. Not until later.
“What if … what if you’re not here?” Henry had blinked up at Arthur through tears. “What if you’re working? What if you’re away?”
Arthur had smiled at him then and tilted Henry’s chin up. He had pointed to the far-off stars and had said, “If the stars are shining above you, then know I’m right there with you. I’m only a glance at the sky away, Henry.”
Henry had lifted his eyes further upwards and considered the indigo sky. There had been so many stars staring down at him, eyes on him from every single angle. They were somewhat like his dad, he had realised, who always seemed to be in Henry’s periphery, ready to catch him when his bike had wobbled, or stepping in and catching a tennis ball Bea had sent flying perilously close to his nose.
“Okay, Daddy,” Henry had whispered.
“That’s my boy,” Arthur had said and scooped him up into a hug so warm and comforting Henry had burrowed into his chest and refused to resurface for a long, long time.
—
“Like this, Daddy?” Calida asks, laying one corner of the picnic blanket down. Across from her, Isabel lays down the other.
“It’s perfect, Sunny,” he assures his daughter, smiling as she preens under his attention.
With the picnic blanket laid down, he sets down the telescope he’d carried out over his shoulder and begins to fiddle with it. To his right, Alex opens up their basket full of blankets and thermos’ filled with hot chocolate and pulls out the tiny pair of binoculars shoved on top. Walker clings to Alex, his curls buried under a navy blue beanie.
“I know about the stars,” Isabel tells them confidently as they settle down, arms crossed as she looks up. “They’re big lights in the sky, but they turn off during the day.”
“They do emit light,” Alex allows, looking sideways at Henry. This is one of the aspects of fatherhood that neither of them had initially thought much about, but were increasingly faced with lately - teaching their children things without diminishing their confidence.
“What does emit mean?” Calida asks curiously.
“There are a few meanings,” Henry says, stroking her curly hair. “To emit means to produce something.”
“So, stars emit light?” Calida asks slowly.
“That’s right, my little love.”
“And Papi emits farts?”
Alex’s head jerks around as their children burst into giggles. Henry can’t help but laugh too, shaking his head fondly. “Exactly right, love.”
“Hey!” Alex interrupts, affronted. His lips twitch, though, as Calida giggles again. “At least I’m not as bad as Walker!”
“Are you really throwing our child under the bus, darling?”
Walker takes his thumb out of his mouth and considers Alex, his eyes huge and brown and curious. “Papi fart?”
“Walks,” Alex says, wounded, as Henry, Bel and Calida laugh again. Walker’s tiny face splits into a smile, and he giggles too, wrapping his arms around Alex’s bicep and hiding his face in his shoulder.
“Fine, I see how it is,” Alex huffs. “Ganging up on me. You’re all going to be sorry. Daddy’s making chicken alfredo tomorrow, just so you know!”
There’s a chorus of small voices that results in Bel, Calida and Walker pinning Alex down on the blanket and crawling over him, shouting Papi over and over again. Henry smiles, his heart full, as he sits down beside them and watches the four loves of his life wiggle around and laugh at each other.
“Fine, fine, you win!” Alex says through a laugh. He makes an oof sound as Bel clambers over him, kneeing him in the stomach as she does so, and launches into Henry’s arms.
“Daddy,” she says as Henry zips her pink jacket up further. It’s cold out, the wind biting at exposed skin and seeping through gaps in clothing. Bel’s cheeks and nose are red, but she looks unperturbed. “Are you going to show us the stars now? I want to know more stories.”
“Yes, little love,” Henry says. He sits his eight-year-old daughter in his lap and cuddles her close as Alex sits up, a child on each knee. His curls are messy, but he grins across at Henry, nose red and two-day-old scruff lining his jaw. Henry’s heart jolts, love hot in his chest, and he smiles back at his husband.
“Story time,” Calida sing-songs, pulling at the blanket and twisting toward Henry, her little face becoming suddenly serious. “Tell us, Daddy.”
He chuckles and cups her face with one hand. “Lie back, Sunny. Let’s all lie back; it makes it easier to see.”
The five of them lay down, snuggled together under the soft blankets they had thankfully remembered to pack. Henry’s heart skips in his chest as he stares up into the endless star-speckled sky, memories of his father pressing on him.. Their backyard is quiet but for his family and the soft rustle of wind through the grass, but he swears he can hear the echo of Arthur’s voice in the whisper of the trees. The grief surges inside him before receding, his breathing deep and slow as he centres himself.
The asterisms are as familiar as the back of his own hand after years of casting his eyes skyward. Orion’s belt draws his eye immediately; three bright pinpricks of light strung across the sky - Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka. The names are probably too unusual for his children to memorise, so he forgoes them as he lifts his hand and points towards Orion.
“A long, long time ago,” he says into the darkness, his breath appearing as a white cloud, “before there were picture books, humans used the sky to tell stories. Collections of stars represented different stories. Do you see those three stars in a line?”
“I see them,” Bel whispers.
“I saw them first,” Calida whispers back.
“Where, Papi?” Walker asks Alex in his soft toddler voice. Henry waits patiently as Alex shows him, smiling over them as Walker’s face fills with awe.
“Many cultures across the world have different stories about the same groups of stars,” Henry continues. He’s predictably cut off, his children endlessly curious and eager for knowledge.
“What’s a culture?” Calida asks curiously.
Alex glances across from him, trying to find the right words. “A group of people,” he explains. “A group that lives in the same area and has the same ideas. Does that make sense?”
After Calida confirms, Henry presses on in the same low, clear voice. “I’ll tell you Daddy’s favourite. Once upon a time, there was a hunter called Orion. He was the greatest hunter in all the land. He also happened to be friends with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. Together, they would often hunt the wild forests, finding food and slaying evil monsters. However, one day, a giant scorpion pursued the two.” He pauses as his daughters gasp. Walker gasps half a moment later, clearly copying his sisters reactions.
Henry allows himself a small smile before he continues. “The scorpion was too great a beast for Orion to defend against, and after a great battle, he was stung and passed away from his wounds. Artemis asked the king of the gods, Zeus, to place him among the stars to honour his memory. Those three stars are his belt.”
“Ooooooh,” Bel says beside him. She wriggles further into his embrace and lays her cheek on his shoulder. “Is it just his belt? Did Zeus forget the rest of him?”
Henry bites back a chuckle and slowly begins to point out the curve of his bow and the raised club. His four companions stay silent as he does so, his children enraptured by his story as he sketches out the figure of Orion.
“Do you have a favourite, Papi?” Calida asks curiously.
“I sure do,” Alex tells her cheerfully. He shifts his hand out from under the blanket and reaches over Calida’s head. Henry tilts towards him and smiles as warm fingers card through his hair. “If you look across the sky that-a-way-” he points celestial North with his other hand. “To that bright, bright star-” he explains as best he can, tilting Calida’s head, “that’s the North Star.”
“What does it mean?”
Henry smiles into the cold night air as Alex’s low voice floats over to him, knowing what is coming, and still feeling thoroughly wooed even decades later. “Well, before there were maps and,” he fake gasps, “the internet! Humans used the sky to navigate. The North Star is always in the North. Wherever you might be, if you see that star, you can figure out which way to go. Some call it the guiding star.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he says with his eyes on Henry, “Even if you find yourself lost or caught up in stormy seas, it’s always there to guide you to safety. To home.”
A lump forms in Henry’s throat, and tears prick his eyes as Alex grins across at him, his lashes casting long shadows down his cheeks. He might be misty-eyed too, but it’s too dim to tell. Henry shifts his head and kisses Alex’s palm, smiling as Alex’s thumb catches a fat teardrop rolling down his cheek.
“I like that one,” Bel tells him, wrapping her fist in the front of his sweater. “Can you show us more, Daddy?”
“Of course,” Henry tells her, his voice miraculously steady. To his left, Calida grabs his hand with her two small ones and wiggles closer, shivering.
“Show us, show us, show us, show us!”
“Alright, alright, alright, alright,” he teases. “Well, the North Star is part of a constellation called Ursa Minor. See, you can follow the tail, and it almost looks like a kite!”
“Why did Zeus put a kite in the sky?” Bel asks, frowning. “There are already so many of them in the sky!”
“It only looks like a kite,” Henry explains gently. “Do you want to know the story?”
“Yes, please,” Bel shoots back immediately, clutching onto him tightly.
“Once upon a time, a fair maiden called Callisto had a baby called Arcas. For many years, she loved him with all her heart and provided him with all he could ever ask for. But, they were being pursued by an angered goddess. Despite how hard they tried to hide, the goddess found them and turned Callisto into a bear, separating them forevermore,”
“Oh!” Calida exclaims softly. To her left, Walker gurgles and pulls at Alex’s hand.
“Arcas grew up to become a famous archer, but he never forgot the love of his mother, no matter how much time and distance separated them. Still, the goddess did her very best to trick Arcas into killing his mother. But, Arcas’ father, knowing how much they loved each other, stepped in at the last possible second.” Henry halts for a long moment, letting his words settle over his children. “He quickly transformed Arcas into a bear, too, and to protect them from the angered goddess, he threw them into the sky by their tails, where they stayed side by side forevermore.”
“Wait, where’s the mom?” Bel asks, her accent lengthening the o sound.
“See above? The rectangular shape and the long tail?” he trails his finger along it.
“Oooooh,” Calida says. "They're going to be together forever."
“That’s right,” Henry confirms. “No matter what, they’re always together." He pauses again, smiling through the sudden sharp thrust of grief. But, almost immediately, the anguish unspools and transforms into something warm, not unlike the comfort of a tight hug. Henry closes his eyes as the memory of Arthur's love holds him in its embrace for one long, sweet moment. The aftertaste of sadness ebbs slowly away.
He breathes deeply before he continues. "No matter what, you will always find them together in the sky. Just like Papi and I will always, always be with you, Bel and Walker," he manages, tears pricking his eyes again. The adoration he feels for his family crashes over him, the intensity of his love a tidal wave that sends him hurtling into heavy, fat tears as he struggles to contain his feelings inside himself. He sniffs, tears rolling down his cheeks before he can hope to suppress or hide them.
“Daddy?” Calida asks, alarmed.
“Daddy?” Bel echoes, sitting up and staring down at him, her brown eyes wide. “Daddy, are you crying?”
“Are you sad?” Calida questions, perplexed. Her eyebrows knit together as she considers him seriously.
“No, little love,” Henry tells her softly, sitting up and sniffing again. Immediately, his girls crowd in either side of him, and Alex lets a wiggling Walker go. His son crawls across the blanket and into his lap, chubby fists touching his cheeks gently.
“Daddy cry?” he asks.
“Happy tears,” Henry whispers softly, smiling as his dark-eyed son considers him, his small face creased with concern.
“You can cry when you’re happy?” Bel asks, confused.
There’s a rustle, and then more heat envelops Henry. Alex slots in behind him, shifting forward so Henry sits in the V of his legs. “You can, sweetheart. When you’re really, really happy, sometimes there’s nowhere else for the emotions to go but out.”
“Oh,” Bel says quietly. “I understand. That’s why you’re crying, Daddy?”
“Yes, my little love,” Henry murmurs, laying his cheek on the top of her head. “But Daddy’s alright. He just loves you all very, very, very much.”
“We love you too, Daddy,” Calida says earnestly. “Me and Bel and Walker and Papi.”
Henry lets out a watery laugh and hugs his children closer to his chest. Alex’s arms tighten around him as he leans forward, chest pressed against Henry's back. “He would be so proud of you,” his husband whispers into his ear.
Eyes full of tears, surrounded by the embrace of his family, Henry nods. Then, as though the fabric of time has unstitched itself, he swears the smell of lemon soap wafts over him and a Yorkshire accent murmurs softly in his ear.
Remember, Henry. I’m with you, always.