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I love you to the sea
I love you like the tidal wave
That cast me away
When it washed me back to shore
The first arms that found me were yours
- To the bone by Sammy Copley
***
It still haunts him sometimes - even after she has returned to them, has come home to him. The realisation of what his world would have been if she’d never turned up on his doorstep. Tonight, his subconscious draws on that fear, pulling in memories of those recent, horrid, lonely years. He wakes up in a cold sweat, nightmares of a life without her still reverberating through his body. Washing over him, a tidal wave, drowning him in fear and terror and pain. A life where he had never met her at all. He imagines himself, without her, lost and alone. Dead perhaps. With nothing, no-one, to live for.
He thinks of Tristan, God where would Tristan have ended up? Not here, that is for certain. Not at home in Skeldale, at one with the Dales and the animals he cares for so diligently. He would not have been there when Tristan needed him, to hold him, to comfort him. Would not have had the chance to love his little brother as completely as he does now. The thought of it slices through him like a knife, a physical pain somewhere deep in his stomach.
James would still be in Scotland, probably. Might not even have been able to pursue his calling - would probably have had to follow his father’s footsteps instead. All that skill, that talent, wasted. Helen would be married to Hugh, he imagines. Stuck in some fancy house having to plan parties and host dinners and not be outside in the air and the soil where her bones belong. There’d be no Jimmy, no Rosie - a tear leaks out of his eye and his chest tightens at the thought.
Perhaps most terrifying of all is what would have happened to her. If nobody had taken her in. If she’d never reconciled with Edward. If she’d gone back to that hellish nightmare of a marriage. If, if, if.
It is too much to bear this time, and he tears himself out of bed, flings on his dressing gown and goes to the bathroom. Splashing his face with cold water, he takes in his surroundings. Tristan’s toothbrush, next to his in the glass on the sink. Her towel hanging on the hook. One of Jimmy’s toy cows has been left on the floor, and he picks it up, crushing it in his hands until it leaves tangible marks on his skin.
His family is safe. They are all here, under his roof, under his protection. He is alive, he is loved.
But his heart still hammers. He cannot shake this fear, and he is struck by a desperate need to see her. To prove that she is actually here, his saviour and his world.
Stealthily, he creeps out of the bathroom and towards her bedroom door. He hesitates, hand raised ready to knock. As quietly as he can, he raps three times. Nothing. He tries again. Still nothing.
His heart is racing even faster now. Delirious and afraid he opens her door, just a crack. The light in the bathroom is still on and it illuminates her sleeping form. She shifts in her sleep, arms above her head, at peace. She is here. He is okay.
She moves suddenly, eyes blinking open slowly. Mr Farnon?
Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to -
Is everything alright?
Yes, yes all fine. Go back to sleep
No, it can’t be - you’ve never… She sighs, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm. The thin straps of her nightgown leave her shoulders exposed and his throat closes up, heart beating for an entirely different reason now. Either come in or I’ll come to you.
He steps forwards, closing the door quietly behind him. (He’s never been in her room before, never had cause to, feels utterly unworthy to be standing on such holy ground.)
Now, what on earth?
I had a nightmare. It is out before he realises. He sounds childish and afraid but he has to tell her - you were gone, no you’d never even been here, I never found you and you never - he is crying, he realises as she pushes herself up onto her knees, arms reaching out for him.
Oh, love (She has never called him that before. He has been constantly jealous of the others, all of whom receive that gift of a name every day. But never him, not until now.) She pulls him towards her and he crumples, head falling onto her lap as she runs a hand through his hair.
The words fall out of him; you didn’t exist and everything was horrible and I wanted to die. Nobody was here, nobody loved me, I was so, so alone. He crushes himself against her - worries, for a moment, that he might hurt her.
But she gathers him in her arms. Calms him, her gentle hands piecing him back together as she has done so many times before. I’m here. You found me, we found each other.
His tears slow as she continues to push her fingers through his hair, soothing and steadying. We’re all here, your family. You belong to us, Siegfried Farnon. We won’t ever let you go. The monster in his chest grows calm as her hands find his back, his shoulders, his neck. Everything is alright, she tells him, you are so loved. She’d never lie to him. So it must, therefore, be true.
As his breathing evens out, she pushes him gently to sit up, aware that neither of them are as young as they once were, and his spine cracks as he straightens up. She slides her legs out from underneath her, stretching them over the edge of the bed, relieving the stiffness that has set in. He realises a little too late that he is staring, and looks away sharply. (Her faint blush stops his apology before it leaves him.)
Come on then. She holds out a hand, guides him back to his room, footsteps light across the worn boards. A beam of moonlight falls across his rumpled bedsheets through a gap in the curtain. He stares at the offending furniture, afraid it will transport him back to that place of loss and fear.
But she is still there, at his elbow, easing him into bed, smoothing back an errant curl from his eyes.
Stay, he croaks, pleading into the still of the night.
Alright. There is, surprisingly, not an ounce of hesitation, just this once.
(No, he wants to shout, not just this once, today and tomorrow and tomorrow and forever.)
But he says nothing. Instead, his larger hand closes around hers, and he slides over in the bed, creating room for her. She lies next to him, stiff and a little uncertain now, and he cannot have that.
May I - he isn’t sure what he’s asking, but she seems to know.
Yes.
His arm snakes across her middle, pulling her closer. Their bodies are aligned, touching from shoulders to toes, and she is warm and comforting and home.
Thank you, he murmurs. (I love you, he wants to say)
Always, she replies. (I love you too, she means)
Reckless in drowsiness, he risks a kiss to the soft skin of her shoulder and feels her shiver beside him. Interesting, even half asleep, his mind realises something. He plants another, a little closer to her neck, and she sighs.
Audrey, he whispers. Can I - I mean, I want to -
Yes, she sighs again, yes.
His kisses creep closer and closer to his destination, until finally (finally) he reaches her mouth.
You are not alone, she sighs against his mouth, you will never be alone again. You have me.
Tears pool in his eyes and he hides his face in the dip between her neck and shoulder. Fear still lingers in the corner of his mind, and he asks - Forever? (Marry me, he will ask in the morning)
Forever. I promise. (Yes, she will answer, you daft creature, of course)
She kisses his fingers, one at a time, and he thinks he might cry again. She is a miracle. An angel. And he will spend the rest of his days telling her so.
But for now, there is this. Quiet kisses, whispered promises.
Sleep overtakes her first, and he watches her, awestruck, bewitched. He loves her. Has loved her for so long. And now she is here, beside him where she belongs. Even in sleep, she reaches for him, her hand tightening around his arm.
He could watch her forever. But even so, sleep comes to claim him too. He slips into a dreamless slumber, arms full of her, heart finally at rest.