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There was a chill in the air, and Ada pulled her jacket tighter around herself. It was a short walk from the train station to the Lightollers' place, and she was early besides, but nonetheless, she sped-walk to their house as if she were on a tight schedule. It had been too long since she saw her friends, and much too long since she saw her husband.
She paused on the doorstep of the Lightoller house, and brushed down her skirt, taking a fallen leaf out of her hair before knocking.
Sylvia was at the door in moments. Her three year old, Frederick, waddled behind her, holding onto her skirt.
"Ada!" Sylvia greeted.
"Sylvia!"
They laughed, and Sylvia said, "I'd hug you, but…." She rocked the one year old in her arms as a way of explanation.
"No, no, it's alright," Ada said. "How is little Richie?"
"Still insistent on being carried. Come in, come in."
It had been weeks since Ada visited Sylvia's house, but it felt like coming home. Small as it was, it reminded her of every good moment she'd had with the Lightollers.
As Sylvia drifted through the rooms, doing some last minute tidying (one handed so as to keep holding her baby), Ada looked down at little Fred. "And how are you?" she asked. Fred gave her a thumbs up and giggled, and Ada couldn't help but giggle back.
Sylvia, smiling at the little exchange, said, "You're early. I haven't had time to make any food yet. Could I get you something to drink?"
"I don't need a drink. And please, let me help you cook."
"Darling, I love you, but no. I like to make Charles food for his first meal home."
"Ah, but what if I like to make Will's first meal?"
"Do you?"
"Not particularly."
Sylvia smiled, and set down Richard on the ground so she could pull Ada into a hug. "I've missed you," she murmured.
"There's been a lot of missing people lately. Don't worry; once our husbands return, we won't have to miss anyone ever again."
Sylvia snorted and shook her head. After she pulled away, she said, "If you want to help, then could you look over my boys while I cook?"
"Of course."
After Sylvia disappeared into the kitchen, Ada settled onto the floor beside Richard. He'd mostly mastered crawling, and half crawled, half scooted towards Ada. Ada scooped him up into her lap, and bopped his nose. He wasn't nearly as giggly as his brother, and his reaction was mere amazement- as if he didn't know that his nose could be bopped.
Ada pointed to Richard, and said, "Richie." Then she pointed to herself, and said, "Aunt Ada." She tried, every time she visited, to get him to call her "Aunt Ada," or anything besides "lady." She'd thus far been unsuccessful.
She repeated the routine a few times, then pointed to Richard and said nothing. After a pause, Richard caught on and said, "Richie!" When she pointed to herself, his eyebrows creased in confusion, and he was silent.
"Oh, well," she said, giving up and rocking him back and forth. "You'll get there eventually."
She looked around for Frederick and almost panicked, thinking that she lost him- until, in his halting, uncertain steps, he came into the room with a glass of water.
So Sylvia hadn't believed her when she said she didn't need anything to drink.
Frederick came to a stop in front of her, then looked around, as if he wasn't sure what to do with the water. Ada took it from him carefully, and set it on the coffee table. "Thank you, dear," she said.
"Mommy told me it's for you, Aunt Ada." At least one of Sylvia's kids knew how to refer to Ada properly.
"And now I have it. Good job."
He clapped his hands, quite pleased with himself.
Ada took Richard out of her lap and set him down. He looked up at her with wide eyes, as if wondering why she had decided at that moment to put him down- not with any amount of bitterness, but due to pure curiosity. What an age to be, when everything was worth wondering about.
With her newly freed hands, Ada reached for a small box that was kept to the side of the couch. She showed it to Frederick. "Want to play dominoes?" she asked. It was a redundant question, since Frederick was already grabbing it out of her hands and Richard was crawling towards him, trying to get a piece of the action.
For the next hour or two, they played with the dominoes. Richard hadn't quite gotten a grasp on how to set up the dominoes yet, and Frederick, who was adept at putting dominoes down in a row, thought himself a lord in comparison. He kept leaning over Ada to try and help Richard, or at least give him instructions, but half the time, his instructions were wrong and his dominoes were disorderly. Ada just laughed and shook her head, playing along, not minding that they weren't playing any semblance of the actual game of dominoes. All the while, the smells of Sylvia's cooking wafted through the air, and Ada became gradually more anxious for William and Charles to arrive.
Arrive they did, no later than they said they would- and in fact, a few minutes earlier.
Ada was first alerted to her presence by the front door opening, and Sylvia's happy gasp from the kitchen. Her heart started pounding, and she stood up quickly, smoothing out her skirt. She considered leaving Richard and Frederick alone for a moment (anything to run into William's arms) but thought better of it. She picked up Richard and said, "Come along, Freddie," then she was off, speed-walking into the front hall.
The first thing she saw was Charles sweeping Sylvia up and spinning her around, both of them in fits of laughter. Fun, lighthearted, and dramatic- everything she knew her friends to be.
She put Richard down, on his feet this time. He was a bit unsteady but knew enough to get out of the way of the adults' feet, Ada figured. Just in case, she told Frederick to keep an eye on him. Then she turned, and there he was.
She exhaled sharply, and saw William's smile growing at the sight of her. More thoughtful than his friend, he put his luggage down by the wall (instead of throwing it to the ground), then stepped up to her. He took a moment to examine her, and she let him- but only a moment. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, she got impatient, and pulled him into a kiss.
He smiled against her lips, and didn't protest, pulling her close to deepen their embrace. When Ada broke the kiss so she could look at his face, ensuring every detail matched her vivid memories, William whispered, "I missed you." She tried to step away, to check on the kids, but William pulled her back for one more tight hug.
"Get a room," Charles said.
"It'd be one of yours," William pointed out, and Charles made a faux gagging noise that made Sylvia laugh.
Ada had almost forgotten how it felt to be wrapped in William's arms. Even as she peered her head back so she could make sure Frederick and Richard were alright, and even as she sniffed the air in case the food had started to burn, she didn't want to make him let her go. When she was with him, it was so much harder to worry, to overthink. She hoped she did the same for him.
William let her go at last, but made up for it by holding her hand. Charles seemed content to hold onto Sylvia forever, but she slipped out from under her arm to run into the kitchen, so he turned his attention to his boys. He picked up Richard and cooed at him for a moment, then greeted the elder son in a more professional (but still more affectionate than Ada had seen him act with almost anyone else) manner. Frederick, ever his father's son, was eager to take his hand and lead him to the living room so he could show him his drawings.
Without the audience (small as it was), William looked at her again, his gaze gentle. "How have you been?" he asked. "In your last letter you said you might have a good deal from- ah- Mrs. Johnson?"
"Yes! She wants a very extravagant skirt- she sketched a design with a few different symbols throughout, one for each of her children. She's American, though, and a well-off one at that, so she's willing to pay well. I've already started on it; I'm hoping to be done by the end of the month." As Ada spoke, William cupped her cheeks, then ran his hands down her arms, and squeezed her hands, as if she might have lost one of her extremities while he was away. She wasn't usually one for the spotlight, but she didn't mind any attention from William.
"And you?" she asked. "How was your voyage? Worse without me there, I'm sure?"
He sighed. "It was. It really was." He glanced towards the living room, then leaned in and lowered his voice. "You know I care deeply for Charles, but I can only handle him in close proximity for so long." She laughed, and he smiled.
"Dinner!" Sylvia sang out.
Charles bounded through the rooms, Frederick on his heels and Richard wobbling behind them. "You," Charles said, kissing Sylvia on the cheek, "are the most excellent woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You even made chicken."
Sylvia said coyly, "It wasn't much."
"It was everything." He kissed her once more before getting out plates and silverware.
Ada helped Sylvia make plates for the kids, then turned to find that in the meantime, William had fixed a plate for her. Before long, all of them were seated, and after a brief period in which everyone's attention was mostly fixed on eating, the conversation started up again.
"I got a new scar," Charles said, with more pride than the sentence necessitated.
Sylvia leaned forward and said, "Oh?" Charles rolled up his sleeve to show it to her: a small scar, rather more of a scratch, right beneath the crook of his elbow.
"It was a duel. The other guy was massive. Two meters at least, and twice my weight. His girl fell for me- though I'd never tried to woo her! I love you too much to look at other women, Sylvie. But she fancied me, and he didn't like that. He challenged me to a duel and I wasn't chicken enough to reject him. He got a good hit in, hence the scar, but it was my win in the end. I could have had his head, if I hadn't decided to let him off easy. His girl didn't love the idea of dueling anyway, so she lost interest in both of us and went off on her own anyway. But now I've got a commemoration of it, eh?" Sylvia clapped, duly impressed.
William, who had quietly eaten through the whole story, set down his fork and leaned forward. "The real story-"
"Watch it," Charles warned, though his tone was light.
"The real story is that one of the able seamen on our ship- John, nice guy, cries when he's drunk and stands barely over one and a half meters- happened to be holding a knife when Charles tripped and stumbled into him."
"His girl did fancy me though," Charles said, earning himself a slap on the arm from Sylvia.
"Any sea stories from you?" Ada asked her husband. (Her husband! Even though it had been two years, she still smiled at the thought.)
William shrugged modestly, and Charles scoffed. "Don't be shy," he said. "Tell them about the fish."
Flushing, William gave in and told them the story. "When we were docked in New York, one of the seamen offered to take me on an afternoon fishing trip. You know this about me, Ada: I've never fished before. I got lucky, though; by the end of the evening, I caught a decent sized catfish."
After an expectant pause, Charles shook his head. "Imagine this," he said. "An experienced fisherman taking out this rookie, just for a few hours. And the rookie, with minimal help or instruction, I might add, caught one of the biggest fish in the lake!" He spread his arms, almost as wide as he physically could. "This big! They could barely carry it when they were working together!"
William looked scandalized. "Not that big by half! And you weren't even there!"
"And you," Charles said, pointing his fork at William, "are rotten at telling stories."
"But a natural at almost everything else," Ada said, patting his arm. "Including, apparently, fishing."
He waved his hand dismissively. "It was luck."
"The important question is this," Sylvia said. "Did you eat it? Did you save any for us?"
Charles leaned towards his wife to say, "This is the worst part."
William seemed much less embarrassed about this part, though, than the part where he caught the fish in question. "No," he said. "I let it go. The fisherman nearly crucified me. But I couldn't stand to see it writhing like that."
"And that," Ada said, grinning proudly, "is the man I fell in love with. Pass the salt, anyone?"
Sylvia passed the salt, and the conversation shifted.
"Tell me," Charles said, "about my boys." The boys in question had already vacated the table, bored with the adult conversation. "I'll make them talk to me later, tell me everything that has happened to them since I've been gone, but I can only understand what they mean about thirty percent of the time. So what have they been up to?"
"Mm!" Sylvia finished chewing then sat up straighter, beaming at the opportunity to talk about Frederick and Richard. As she recounted stories about the boys' schooling and sports and what have you (most of them being stories Ada already knew), the table was cleared of food, then dishes, then dessert. Sylvia was much like her husband in that once she got started with her stories, it was hard to make her stop. Ada sometimes wondered how they got around to conceiving two children, when they were both so liable to get distracted by their own storytelling.
Sylvia started to wind down, and William took the opportunity to slip into the conversation to offer, "Euchre, anyone?"
Charles, who had up until that point been spending most of his time gazing adoringly at Sylvia, clapped his hands in delight. Ada was reminded of the similar motion that his elder son was inclined to make when happy.
So, they migrated to the living room. Frederick and Richard, who had been playing nearby where the adults could keep an eye on them, picked up on what the adults were doing and scrambled towards the living room as well.
"I wanna sit with Daddy!" Frederick said, setting off a series of incoherent whines from Richard. Both reactions made Charles grin, delighted at the attention.
"Here," he said. "Richie, you sit on my lap, and Freddie, you sit right here beside me. Alright?"
It did not immediately seem alright to the children. It took a bit more convincing, and Sylvia had to mitigate their complaints, but the boys settled down before long.
For the first game, they paired up with their spouses- Charles and Sylvia sat across from each other as a team, and Ada and William did the same. It went almost without saying that Ada and William destroyed their friends.
The second game was when it got competitive; Ada and Sylvia played against Charles and William. Charles got rowdy, exclaiming at every card placed and nearly jumping up once or twice, if not for the baby in his lap. Frederick and Richard loved this side of Charles, and the former giggled nonstop, while the latter snuggled deeper into Charles's arms. Unfortunately, for all his energy, Charles was no good at euchre, and what was worse, didn't seem to know it. William was engrossed in his cards the whole time, trying to find ways to alleviate the damage Charles caused.
Sylvia, also middling at euchre, at least knew of her shortcomings. She had no illusions that she was better than her teammate, and looked regularly at Ada for advice. She tried to do so subtly, wagging her eyebrows and making "ahem" noises, but she was just as bad at subtlety as she was as euchre, and the men called her out for cheating several times. And, when Ada and Sylvia won, Charles still grumbled that it was only because Sylvia tried to communicate with Ada.
"Key word, tried," Ada pointed out. "I didn't help her a bit. If I had, she wouldn't have made nearly that many stupid decisions."
Which made everyone at the table laugh, and any ill will there might have been eased.
"It's getting late," William pointed out. He scooted closer to Ada, and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Ada and I should really…."
But Charles and Sylvia were both quick to refuse to let them go.
"It's such a relief to see you again," Sylvia said. "How could you leave so soon? I've barely seen Ada in, well, a week!" Ada smiled at her.
"One more game, old man," Charles said. "We can get them this time."
They didn't "get them" that time, or the time after that.
For the fifth game, they switched teams again, so Ada and Charles played against William and Sylvia. That game was a disaster. William was indignant at Sylvia's attempts to ask him for advice, and Ada got so aggravated at Charles's usually endearing antics that she threw the cards at him.
"Perhaps," Sylvia mused, as she picked up the cards that were now scattered across the floor, "there's a reason we usually play as women versus men."
"Better for everyone?" Charles said.
Ada shrugged. "Better for us, at least."
"It's nearly nine," William said. "Maybe Ada and I ought to-"
"Oh!" Sylvia sprung to her feet, sending the cards onto the floor once again, and waved her finger at her boys. Throughout the five games, they had been handed from lap to lap; starting with their father then taking turns with Sylvia, Ada, and William. Ada had appreciated getting the chance to hold Frederick. He was such a sweet boy, and there was nothing better than feeling him start to doze off, cozy and safe in her arms.
"You two," Sylvia went on, "were being sly, weren't you? You thought you could get away with staying up late while we're distracted with the Murdochs?"
Frederick giggled and Richard tilted his head. Ada wasn't sure the younger boy understood the concept of time yet.
"They did get away with it," Charles pointed out. Sylvia hit him lightly on the back of the head, then scooped Richard out of his lap.
"Say good night to Daddy," Sylvia said, lowering the boy so Charles could kiss his cheek. "Freddie, say good night."
"Night!" Frederick jumped out of William's lap to run up to Charles and hug his legs. When he let go, he patted William's leg, then Ada's, then ran off to follow his mother to his and Richard's bedroom. Ada watched the trio go, chin in her hands, smiling to herself.
William half stood up and Charles, sensing his intention, moved closer to put his hand on William's knee and silently urge him to sit back down. "If you'll indulge me, while my Sylvia's busy," he said, "I'm expected to meet with one of the White Star Line executives this weekend. This could be big in advancing my career. I planned a little something- I'm going to try to make it sound casual and unprepared, but I am definitely going to ask for a promotion. Would you mind if I rehearsed for you?"
William exchanged a glance with Ada, who waved off his annoyance and said to Charles, "Of course."
Charles went through a few different iterations of this "casual" conversation, all of which sounded, well, rehearsed.
By the time he was finished, and had deftly refused to listen to any of their feedback and advice (William's advice boiled down to "maybe don't ask for a promotion the very first time you meet him"), Sylvia had returned.
"They're asleep?" Charles said.
"Ask me again in the middle of the night."
"It already is the middle of the night," William muttered.
"We should stay awake," Ada said, "so we can make sure they're asleep and stay that way."
"Oh, would you?" Sylvia said. "You are too kind."
William seemed to be of much the same opinion, as he gave his wife an aggravated look. Ada didn't pay him any mind. She knew that William's favorite thing about returning home was sleeping with her- in both the figurative and literal sense of the word (on ships he never had quite so much uninterrupted time for deep slumber). She also knew, though, that he would understand her need to be with her friends after so much time alone.
They abandoned the euchre (after William had, once and for all, picked up the cards), and moved to the couches. Sylvia made everyone a cup of tea, then cuddled up under Charles's arm. Ada sat across from them with William.
Their voices for the rest of the night were quiet, so as to avoid waking the boys. Charles seemed to crash, his exhaustion catching up to him at last, and he rested his head on top of Sylvia's, half asleep as the conversation went on around him. William watched him enviously.
"I do miss you when you're away," Sylvia said. Even though she was curled up with Charles, the words were directed at William. "I don't think I say so often, because I'm always too busy greeting Charlie, but I do miss you."
William's expression softened. "I missed you too. I hope you'll understand, though, that I'll never miss you quite as much as Ada." Ada smiled.
"You don't miss me as much as you miss Ada, or you don't miss me as much as Ada misses me?"
"Neither," Ada said.
"I don't miss Charles, though," William said, raising his voice a tad to make sure Charles heard. "I never have the opportunity."
Sleepily, without opening his eyes, Charles murmured, "Bastard."
Around ten at night, the Lightollers released the Murdochs from their social imprisonment. After, that is, they escorted them to the door, and lingered in the entryway for another few minutes, to make sure nothing went unsaid.
William pulled Charles into a hug and patted his back. "You have to get some rest," he said, a note of scolding in his tone. "You're not on a ship anymore. A full eight hours of sleep." Charles just smiled.
Ada said a quick goodbye to Charles, then embraced Sylvia. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," Ada said.
"Make sure you visit next week," Sylvia responded.
"How could I ever pass up an opportunity to see two of my favorite faces? Frederick and Richard, that is."
"Don't joke like that- it makes me worried that you're not joking at all. You do love them so dearly."
"Indeed, but how could I love any Lightoller more than I love the Sylvia Lightoller?"
Charles leaned towards William and said, "I should be taking notes. Your wife is wooing my wife better than I ever have."
As they were putting on their jackets, Sylvia offered, not for the first time, "Couldn't you stay the night? It's late."
"We couldn't," William said. "We don't want to intrude." (Ada was of the opinion that it wasn't possible to intrude on the Lightollers. They were rarely, if ever, upset at having company.)
"And," she added, "Will likes to sleep in our bed on his first night home."
Sylvia squeezed Ada's hand and Charles slapped William's shoulder, and, finally, the two slipped away into the night.
The night air was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. If anything, it helped to keep Ada awake for the walk to the train station. It did make it difficult to hold William's hand, since the wind bit at their fingers, but she refused to take no for an answer on that front. There were few things better than holding her husband's hand.
They walked mostly in silence. Ada could sense the tension being released from William's shoulders, now that they were alone, and there was no one to put on an act for. Even with Charles and Sylvia, as wonderful as they were, there was an expectation of being a good friend, a chatty friend on nights like these. With just the two of them, there were no expectations whatsoever. They could be themselves.
"Will?" Ada said.
"Yes?"
Her words were almost, but not quite, carried away by the breeze. "I want to have children."
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The silence wasn't uncomfortable or tense, but it was there.
"Oh," William said. After another minute: "In the future, or now?"
"Soon. Maybe not now, but soon. Seeing Sylvia and Charles with their kids… I want that. And I think we're ready."
William cleared his throat, but he was still somewhat choked up when he said, "I think we're ready too."
She looked at him for the first time since they started talking, trying to gauge his reaction. "Do you want that?"
"With you?" William looked back at her, and smiled, and she saw that his eyes were sparkling. "I want everything."
She stopped, and held out her arms, and William complied with her wordless request for a kiss. Even after he pulled away, he held her close.
"Just imagine," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "a little girl or boy running around the house. We'd make her food; she'd kiss us goodnight. She'd be so happy when I come back from a trip. Maybe, if we have multiple kids, they'd play together while we hang out with Charles and Sylvia. Maybe- maybe so many things."
Ada buried her face in his shoulder. "Just as long," she whispered, "as it's with you."