Helpmeet

He knew he had to leave now, leave her and the children behind while he went off again, like he used to. And though he was older now, stiffer, more tired – he had to go. No one else would believe Roderic, and the King wouldn't trust anyone else to come with him. But even the best of reasoning couldn't have made the parting any easier. Mara-Leigh was playing ring-around-the-rosie with Felise, and Celeste was tidying up after breakfast after putting little Connor down for his morning nap.

He stayed in the doorway, unnoticed for the time being. His pack was slung over his back, full of what he needed but nothing else. His heavy boots would keep his feet warm, his thick coat would block even the mountain's chill, and he had traveling food to keep up his strength. He remembered leaving like this before, and every time he felt like a stranger in his own home.

Celeste turned around and saw him.

“Are you ready?” she said quietly, walking over to him.

He nodded wordlessly, not willing to speak. The two girls fell in behind their mother, suddenly shy of this heavily burdened foreigner in their living room.

“Give your daddy a hug,” Celeste nudged.

Jody knelt down and opened his arms, and the two of them rushed in, crying, wrapping their arms around his neck.

“When will you come back?” Mara-Leigh asked through her tears.

“I don't know,” he whispered, squeezing both of them and kissing the tops of their soft heads.

They stayed together, the three of them, for a long moment. Jody tried desperately to remember everything about them, knowing that even if he was gone for a short while they'd be irrevocably changed.

“Okay, Daddy's got to go,” he finally said, prizing their arms from him.

They hung on tighter, still crying.

“Girls,” he said firmly, “let go.”

They slowly loosened their grips and allowed him to stand, watching him with weepy red eyes. He looked at Celeste, and she looked at him, both of them talking without saying anything. And then, because he couldn't take it anymore, he took her face in both hands and kissed her.

There was a desperate longing that still rose up in his heart, though he was long past the fanciful stage of their romance. He wished that as he kissed her, she would melt into him, never to be left behind. The two becoming one flesh, one bone, one person. He needed her to complete him, and it felt sickeningly like leaving an arm or leg at home when he had to leave her for so long. He relied on her steadfastness, her willingness to stand beside him even when he wasn't sure he was right. He depended on her wisdom and insight when his temper got in the way of reason. He depended on her to be honest with him about his flaws. She was his helpmeet.

And he couldn't promise he'd be coming back.

The nonsensical voice in his head told him that he couldn't die; he had a wife and children. It just couldn't happen. But then the memories of war came to his mind, and he saw Lee, the arrow in his chest, the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, and his terrible, dead eyes, still with a look of surprise on his face. Anyone could die, at any time.

With the sick thought that this might be the last time he would kiss Celeste, he kissed her again, then trailed forceful kisses across her cheek and down the side of her neck, coming to a stop in the hollow of her collarbone. He breathed in the sweet, sweaty, country smell that was unmistakably her; he wanted to smell that every night for the rest of his long life. Her heartbeat was rapid, and he could feel her breath ruffling his hair.

The girls couldn't take it anymore and flung themselves at him, hugging his legs and bursting into fresh tears. Celeste kissed his cheek and then carefully unbuttoned a single button on his shirt. She slipped her hand underneath, onto his heart.

“Please bring this back to me,” she whispered in his ear. Neither of them had moved. His head rested still on her shoulder, and her cheek against his hair. Her hand was warm on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat slow and steady under her fingers.

He stood up straight again and clasped her hand, his eye never leaving her face.

“I will,” he promised.

He gave everyone a last hug, then left the cottage before his resolve failed him.

Inspiration: I actually don't know. The characters are from one of my other stories, however, and this is a possible scene in the sequel.