Page 74 of Forgive Not Forget
“Is anyone too old for bedtime stories?”
Katherine tilted her head to one side. Anna had her there.
“I’m going to read for a bit. Do you mind?”
Katherine rolled over. “No, of course not. Night.”
“Night.”
Desperate for physical contact with Katherine yet deprived, she forced her attention to her book. Katherine was beside her; that was all that mattered. It must have been at least the twentieth time she’d readPersuasion, yet if anything could distract her, it was that. It was still in her opinion the best of Austen’s books. Her last full novel, published six months after her death, was the most melancholic, most lyrical, most romantic of them all. Half an hour later, as she read the words of Captain Wentworth in his letter to Anne — ‘I am half agony, half hope’ — she closed the book. She too was half agony, half hope. Did she and Katherine have a future?
As she shuffled down in the bed to get comfy, the movement of the bedding wafted the scent of Katherine to her. It dissipated too quickly for her liking; she was like a drug, and Anna needed more. Leaning forward slowly, until she was an inch from Katherine’s back, she inhaled.
“Are you seriously sniffing me?”
Anna nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Sorry, I thought you were asleep,” she replied, bracing for further chastisement.
“And sniffing me when I’m asleep is better?”
Anna chuckled. “No. I’ve… I’ve just missed you — your warmth in bed, your face, your voice and, apparently, even your scent.”
Katherine turned over to face Anna, squinting at the low light from the bedside table.
“I’ve missed you, too, but I don’t want to hold you back from your dreams, Anna. I want you to be happy and have everything you desire from life.”
She shook her head. “I don’t just want kids, Katherine. I want kids with you. I think the weekend is proof I couldn’t do it without you, and if I must do it without you, then I don’t want to do it. You will always be enough for me. More than enough. I will be grateful for every minute of every day I get to spend with you. I can’t see a future without you in it.”
“Are you sure I’m enough?”
Anna fumbled for Katherine’s hand underneath the duvet.
“Of course.”
Their hands grasped at each other.
“I thought I’d moved past it,” Katherine confessed. “I hadn’t; I just pushed it deeper. After talking to Tom about losing his dad, I realised I’ve been letting my grief control me rather than me controlling it. I’ve decided that I will go to the prison. You’re right: It couldn’t make things worse, and it could help me get better. When you asked if I wanted closure, I thought about what closure meant. I don’t want to forget about Helena and the baby, but I want to put them in a box in the attic.”
Anna frowned at her. “Okay…”
“Metaphorically speaking, of course. They’re here all around me, and I need them to be somewhere else. At a distance, but within reach, if I want to reach them. If going through with the programme will help, then I’ll do it.”
“We don’t know if it will, though,” Anna said softly.
“I’ll try, for us. Becks was right.”
“Of course she was. Don’t you know Becks is always right? Just don’t tell her that, eh?”
Katherine laughed. “She knows it already. There is one slight problem, though. I threw the letter away.”
“Not a problem,” Anna said. “I took a photograph in case you changed your mind.”
“You did, huh?”
Their bodies moved closer together until they were tightly bound in each other’s arms.
“Did you seriously think I’d kicked you out and dumped your possessions in a suitcase?”
