***

Viola opened her eyes and couldn't understand where she was. She'd been having a dream, she realised. It was jumbled, the mixture of her memories from the uni time, and going out with John, and then telling him she wouldn't anymore, and being excited about a date with Rhys - and some fictional events, such as Hani coming to Fleckney, and then, for some reason, her and Fiona Holyoake being caught in a sand storm. She'd only seen the haze of one rising on the horizon many years ago, when they'd been on a trip to the Sahara, but she had never experienced one.

And then she realised she was in a guest room in Nana's cottage, under two duvets, a throw, surrounded with at least five pillows - and with her ex-husband wrapped around her, snoring softly, his nose buried into her shoulder, his heavy long arm lying across her chest. The previous day rushed back into her memory: the cabin, Niklas, the black cat, and the shape of the girl lying on the ground, the sensation of her muscles aching with each step, the darkness and the cold of the woods, and then the bright red blood of Amira Atieno - and then Rhys, and that piercing moment when he'd appeared on top of the ravine, and she knew he'd heard her.

Because she's a Holyoake wife. His wife.

Viola looked into the face of her ex-husband - and then smiled softly. So, not so ex anymore, perhaps? She carefully pulled her arm from under his and looked at her watch. It was half past nine, astonishingly late for her, but on the other hand, they had returned from the hospital almost at two o'clock at night.

Rhys stirred and started rubbing his nose to her shoulder and then her neck. Viola snorted, but let him continue for a few seconds. He probably wasn't even awake. It was a funny sensation, he was almost kneading her like a ball of dough, pawing her with his scorching large hands, and she giggled. And then his palms slid lower, and he pulled her in by her waist, catching her lips in a deep greedy kiss. Viola closed her eyes - and let go.

***

"Vi, are you alright?" Rhys whispered, and she opened her eyes.

"Why?" Viola asked with a laugh. "Do I not look alright?"

"You're– quiet," he said and tenderly kissed her left cheekbone. "You weren't quiet before, when we, you know–"

Viola smiled at him and stroked his jaw with her hand.

"I love you," she said, and his eyes widened. "And I am alright," she said, "I'm just– happy. I'm enjoying it... and I'm happy." He continued staring at her, his mouth half-open, and she giggled. "Could you, please, start moving again?"

"Moving?" he repeated.

"Yes," she said - and pointedly tensed certain muscles.

He jolted - and then obeyed.

***

"Vi."

Viola once again forced herself to open her eyes and burst into loud laughter at the view of his frowning face in front of her.

"Vi–"

She let go of his neck she'd been embracing tightly, squeezed him with her legs, and then pushed off the bed, rolling him under her and pinning his arms to the pillow, holding his wrists firmly.

"Now what?" she asked.

"I love you," he said - as earnest and as serious as she had ever seen him - and then his gaze dropped on her chest. "God, I love this angle..."

Viola barked a throaty laugh - and started moving.

***

They came down around lunchtime, both of them disheveled and groggy, but endlessly content. Rhys let go of her hand only at the bottom of the stairs when they were turning into the kitchen. They found Nana, Molly, Will, and Fiona there, having tea and bacon sandwiches. There was still no power in the village, but Nana had a backup generator.

"Hello," Viola said and took a chair near Fiona.

A discorded choir of voices answered her. Nana looked utterly pleased - with herself mostly, of course; Fiona and Will had the most nonchalant faces in the history of nonchalant faces; and Molly was blushing furiously. Viola quickly thought back to the past three hours, suddenly worried she hadn't been as quiet as Rhys had said she'd been. She was sure she had been keeping her normal screams and moans under control, though - so perhaps this odd vibe wasn't caused by everyone having been enlightened on how much Viola enjoyed Rhys 'moving.'

"We've had visitors in the morning," Nana said and sipped her Earl Grey mannerly.

"Pardon?" Viola asked.

Rhys poured her coffee and put a mug in front of her. Viola gave him a distracted grateful smile, and then Fiona rose, went to the fridge, and took out a creamer for Viola. And then Will stretched his long arm, picked up a plate with two sandwiches off the counter, and put it in front of her as well.

"What's going on?" Viola asked, and Fiona giggled.

"Apparently, you're the hero of the county," Nana said and steepled her fingers on the table. "That Bjornsson boy has turned out less of a wrench than expected. He's been telling everyone how you'd saved the child's life and had taken care of both of them. And of course, poor Atieno girl wouldn't be alive right now without you. So this morning about half of the population of Fleckney Woulds has shown up on our threshold, some at the pretence of checking on me, while in reality to ask about you and to gossip."

"And they came bearing gifts," Fiona added and pointed at Nana's wide windowsill.

Viola looked and realised she must have been fully wrapped up in her own emotions to fail to notice five take away boxes, three bouquets, and about a dozen of paper bags with all sorts of produce.

"Oh dear," Viola exhaled.

Rhys chuckled, put down a plate and a mug for himself, and sat down next to her. His knee brushed at hers, and she gave him an anxious look.

"Well, let's hope some new disaster happens, and they forget about you soon," he said, giving her a cheeky side glance.

Viola glared at him.

"I'd avoid Anders Bjornsson and that girl's Mother for now," Nana said with a gleeful glimmer in her eyes. "Both of them will want to fully express their gratitude to you for saving their most dearest people. There will be tears and embraces."

Viola shuddered. She picked up a sarnie and mournfully bit into it. Viola truly didn't enjoy unsolicited physical contact - and considered hardly any of it solicited per se.

"I'd offer you to hide in our cottage," Fiona said, "but your friend Yola and Sam with the little'uns are there. The generator in Sam's cottage isn't working."

Viola paused her chewing and slowly shifted her gaze onto Rhys. He was frozen with a mug lifted to his lips, purposefully looking anywhere but at her. Did he somehow forget to mention this little circumstance the night before?

"Alan told me I won't be needed in the surgery for the next few days, so I think I'll take some time off," Viola said. "Maybe go to some cosy B'n'B, wait it out, you know," she added.

She could feel Rhys' attentive eyes on herself, but she simply took a sip of her coffee and went back to eating her sandwich.

When they were done their meal, and Viola rose to put away her plate, Rhys suddenly pulled it out of her hand, dropped it into the sink, and walked out of the kitchen, dragging Viola after him, after announcing in no uncertain terms that she was exhausted and needed to go back to bed.

Upstairs, he pushed her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them. Viola opened her mouth to tell him off when he crossed the room in two long strides, scooped her, and kissed her. Viola wobbled and grasped at the sleeves of his fleece jumper to stay upright. He then picked her up under her arms and took a step towards the bed. Viola decided she was exhausted and needed to go back to bed - and kissed him back.

***

"Will you go with me?" she asked, lazily running the tips of her fingers up and down his arm.

"Go where?" he asked and yawned toothily.

"On a small trip? Maybe to Bath, or– Oh, remember that tiny B'n'B we went to during my second year? I wonder if it's still there. The one with all those cat portraits. And they had lovely breakfasts, with Chelsea buns, and the best strawberry jam." Viola got lost in her memories. "What was the name of it? Something to do with a tree. The Willows? The Cherry Tree?"

"I thought you were joking," he said.

Viola lifted her head and looked into his face.

"Pardon?"

"When you said about taking time off," he said, his tone grumpy. "I thought it's just because all this attention is bothering you."

"All this attention is bothering me," Viola said. "So, I thought we could just go away for a–"

"I can't," he deadpanned. "I have a job. And I have my tenants, and right now even more so. I'm not even supposed to be dossing here with you all day. I should be out there, fixing generators and dealing with fallen poles."

She opened her mouth to remind him he was the one who'd dragged her here, and her tone would probably be rather unpleasant, but she stopped herself. Rhys Holyoake didn't do regret. There had to be another reason why he was all of a sudden so cheesed off.

"Rhys, what's up?" she asked softly.

He started moving from under her, and then threw his feet off the bed, sat up, and turned his back to her.

"Rhys?"

"I just– didn't think you'd leave," he grumbled.

Viola sat up pressing a duvet over her chest.

"It's just for a couple of days," she said and touched his upper arm.

He looked at her over his shoulder.

"You almost died yesterday, Vi," he said in a low, dark voice. "Seeing you there, on the bottom of Whitlaw Fall– You can't imagine what I–" He shook his head.

"But I'm not leaving to do some extreme sports," she exclaimed. "I want to stay in my room all day, drink coffee, and read my romance books."

"Sure," he said and turned away from her.

"And at no point yesterday was I close to dying," she said. "Others were. I was just cold, and tired, but–" She leaned ahead and pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade. He didn't move away. "When I heard your truck, I knew it was you. Isn't it funny?" she whispered.

"Did you recognise the engine?" he asked cheekily.

"Rhys," she said with almost reproach, and he chuckled.

"I know, sorry. Couldn't help it," he said, and then he pushed his arm behind him and wrapped it around her, pressing her closer to him. "And I knew you were there. It was–" He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "It was, like you said, a 'funny' feeling. Like I had to stop."

Viola hummed and closed her eyes. She decided not to tell him that it was simply the Holyoake magic: the same magic that allowed Will and Fiona to communicate without words; that made John turn when Clem looked at him; that helped Julie and Makena to stay just as in love during their four years of long distance relationship; and that kept the spark in Maisie's marriage for fifteen years - the very magic that had brought Rhys' parents, and his Uncles and Aunts together, and that ultimately had cost them their lives, because when one was gone, the other could never survive. She didn't tell him any of that because he was already so obviously uncomfortable with the sentimentality of the situation. And also, perhaps, she wasn't quite ready to give up her rational scientific approach to life for the sake of said sentimentality.

"Will you get back to bed, or you're going to rush out now, to fix everyone's generators and single-handedly upright fallen poles?" she asked teasingly and placed a row of playful kisses on his shoulder.

He turned around and lunged, pressing her into the sheets with all his weight. Viola burst into happy laughter.

***

Four days later...

The first day in the B'n'B - and it was still there, with its Chelsea buns for breakfast and the cat portraits in the tearoom downstairs - was perfect. She got up, went for a jog, drank the surprisingly good Turkish coffee, and then settled in her bed with yet another Olivia Dane, this time featuring an acrobat and a dentist. You'd think they wouldn't work, but aren't you and Rhys an excellent example of people complementing each other with their differences?

On the second day she woke up, and with shock she saw a blood stain on her sheet. She checked the period tracker on her phone. Amenorrhea was a typical symptom of her eating disorder, and she'd struggled with it for three years. For most of that time she'd been married to Hani, so it hadn't been an issue of fertility but simply her overall physical health. He never wanted children. Since then, she'd been on the pill, and her period had always been light and regular.

By midday she knew she needed to make an appointment with her gynaecologist. At seven in the evening the pain and the bleeding had become so severe, she called herself a cab to go to the nearest A&E.

***

"Well, the good news is, you were wrong, and it's not a miscarriage," the resident gynecologist, Dr. Sung said the next morning.

Viola gave the jolly round Korean man an exasperated, tired glare.

"And the bad news?" she asked and rubbed her eyes. After the sleepless night, they felt as if full of sand.

She hated hospitals - obviously, the part where she was the one on the cot, wearing the white robe with the pattern of little blue triangles.

"It's endometriosis," the doctor said. "It is advanced, the scarring and the adhesions are significant. That one cyst that ruptured yesterday was the largest, but you should seek treatment for the other ones. I obviously don't have to explain it to you, but you properly shouldn't have ignored your symptoms."

Viola wanted to tell him there hadn't been any symptoms - no pain during menstruation, or during intercourse, no fatigue, no bloating, no excessive bleeding - but then she didn't. It would just look like she was defensive and stubborn. She just needed to get out of here, rest, and make an appointment with her specialist.

Viola thanked the doctor; and after he gave her the usual list of banalities and a prescription for the painkillers she wasn't planning to take, he left; and she dropped back onto the horrid hospital pillow. The blanket scratched at her chin, when she pulled it up. Her skin felt unpleasantly flushed and sensitive.

After a few more tests, she picked up her overnight bag she'd brought with her, pulled on her jacket, and took a lift down to the admission hall.

"Is anyone picking you up, hon?" a pleasant middle-aged nurse asked, and Viola shook her head. "Ah, I see," the woman said and glanced at Viola's left hand. "You don't look so well, bab. Maybe you should call someone."

Viola pulled her hand with her mobile out of her pocket - but then stuffed it back.

"I called myself a cab, thank you." She gave the woman a sincere grateful smile. "Thank you for your kindness."

The nurse's eyebrows jumped up in surprise, and Viola saw her cab outside. She slowly walked out, into a soft, slow snowfall. The nurse had been right, it was hard to stay upright, her knees were shaking, and her head spun. In the cab, she watched streets flush by, powdered with fresh snow, cosy and peaceful. Her eyes stung, but tears didn't spill. Perhaps, she only cried in Fleckney, she thought with some sort of joyless humour.

Back in the B'n'B she ordered herself a tray, apologised to the owner for the ruined sheets one more time, and climbed back into her bed. Her little paradise - the sheets with yellow roses, her book on the bedside table, the lamp she'd thought so charming the previous day, her lovely beige turtleneck dress, hanging on the door of the wardrobe, that she'd been looking forward to wearing on her idyllic daily walks - suddenly felt empty and cold. She had her cream tea, slid under the fluffy light duvet, and closed her eyes.

,