#marymatthew

Hey, I’m your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy your gift, and have a very merry Christmas!!! :D

Christmas Eve, 1917 “Mary, you should go to bed.” Her father’s voice was sympathetic, but firm. “It’s late and if I know anything about being a parent, your daughter won’t let you sleep in at all tomorrow.” She was curled up on the window seat in the library, staring at the falling snow. “Then I’ll tell the nanny not to let Violet come into my room.” Her eyes didn’t move, they were trained on the white flakes as they fell onto the frozen ground. “I just… I can’t face Christmas without him; knowing he’s probably gone.” Her father moved closer to her and put a hand on her shaking shoulder. “Mary, we don’t know…” “I know!” she shouted, pulling away from him. “I know, nothing is confirmed. But he hasn’t been heard from or seen in three weeks, not by anyone. That wouldn’t be like him. It’s more likely they just can’t…” she paused as she could barely choke out the words, “find him.” “Mary, you can’t lose hope. Especially for Violet’s sake. Does she know anything?” Mary shook her head and pressed her face against the window. “She’s not old enough to understand. I don’t want to tell her anything until we know for sure. But she knows something is wrong; the other day she asked why everyone was so sad.” “I wish I could do something to help,” Robert said. “It’s just waiting now. And knowing I can’t hope or else my heart will be even more broken. Sometimes I wish I’d never let myself love, because it hurts. But I loved him, I really did.” Robert rubbed Mary’s shoulder. “You love him. Let’s think in the present tense.”

August 1914 Mary ran across the field; actually running, a shock if there ever was one. She was smiling, too, and it seemed as if a huge weight was lifted off her chest. Matthew followed her, trying to not look too excited, but grinning from ear to ear. “Papa!” Mary said, stopping just in front of her father who was staring at a telegram. “Papa, Matthew and I…” Robert looked up at them, his face pale. “Can it wait?” “Not really but…” Mary fully took in her father’s ashen face. “What’s wrong?” He silently held out the telegram. “We’re at war.” Mary immediately clasped Matthew’s hands. “I…” She had no idea what to say, so she held onto his hands. “We all knew it could happen, but now… it’s real…” Robert whispered. “And I have to tell them all. But before I do, what was your news?” “Well, um…” Matthew began, but he could not manage to say the words. “We’re engaged,” Mary finished. “Unfortunately, our good news is to be a little overshadowed.” Robert kissed his daughter on the head and shook Matthew’s hands. “I wish I could simply rejoice about this, free of any worries. But nevertheless, congratulations.” He hurried away to announce the war to the rest of the party. Mary took Matthew’s hand in hers again and looked up at him. “What are we going to do?” “I’m going to have to go. I might be able to put it off for a few months, but no longer. It would be wrong for me not to fight, when I’m healthy and completely able to fight. I can’t just …stay out of it.” Damn you for being so honorable, Mary thought. But she nodded and tried to smile at him. “I won’t fight you on that, because that is one fight I know I’ll lose. I guess we’ll have to plan the wedding rather quickly then.” “Mary, I don’t want to possibly make you a widow just a few months after we marry. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t want you tied down…” Mary wasn’t quite as tall as him, but her stance made her seem awfully close. She stood dead on in front of him and firmly said, “No. I am marrying you before you go. You asked me to marry you, don’t tell me you’re backing out now.” In spite of the pit deep in his stomach, partially from fear and partially from regret, Matthew laughed. “I suppose we better start planning then.” “Yes, we better,” she replied, stepping back next to him and leaning her head on her shoulder. “We’ll make it through this.” “I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Careful, they don’t know we’re engaged yet,” Mary said.

December 1914 “I’m so glad you could come home for Christmas,” Mary said, her arm in Matthew’s as they walked through the hall. They had married just a week before he had to go off to officer training and they hadn’t seen each other since. “I just wish I could stay longer,” Matthew said. “I feel like I’ve been a pretty terrible husband, what with leaving you a week after our wedding and all…” Mary shook her head. “No, none of this was your intention, and I’m so happy to be married to you, even if I don’t get to see you nearly as much as I might like. Besides, you did give us something already.” “What?” “I’m pregnant,” Mary whispered. “Two months along.” “What? How?” Matthew sputtered. A huge smile appeared on his face. “I’m thrilled, of course. So very thrilled! But… how?” Mary smirked. “I think you can remember how.” “I can’t believe this,” Matthew said, bending down to kiss his wife. “I’m going to miss it all, or most of it anyway.” “You’ll miss the unpleasantness. And then you’ll come home in seven months to a precious, clean little baby. Who will be yours and mine.” He shook his head. “I’m still a bit in shock. But so happy. I love you, my darling.”

Christmas 1915 Matthew was lucky enough to get to come home for Christmas; the first time he had leave since he left for France. Mary greeted him at the train station, their six-month-old daughter nestled in her arms. “Matthew!” she shouted, when she saw him, holding the baby close to her and moving toward him. He ran toward her, barely noticing the people around him. “Mary!” he shouted back. Just before he touched her, he stopped short. “This is… our daughter?” “No, she’s the daughter of the footman,” Mary snarked. When she saw his face, she laughed and touched his arm gently. “Of course she’s our daughter.” “Violet Isobel,” he whispered, taking the girl into his arms. “She’s just… beautiful. My God, Mary. I’ve missed you. And is it possible to miss someone you don’t know? Because I missed Violet too.” Mary shrugged. “I suppose it’s entirely possible. But you’re here now, and I think Violet is very happy to see you.” Matthew glanced down at the little baby in his arms. “Well, I’m very happy to see her too.” Their time together, just a week, was all too short, but Matthew spent all the time he could with his wife and his little daughter. And that, that time was enough.

December 1917 “He hasn’t written in two weeks,” Mary murmured, pacing up and down the library. “His letters come at least twice a week; I should have gotten four by now!” Robert sighed and leaned back against the couch. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mary. There’s many things that could have happened. Whatever was carrying the mail could have been intercepted, he might not have been able to get his hands on paper, he might not have gotten your last letters and wanted to wait to write a response, he could…” “He could have been taken prisoner, he could be dead…” Mary said coldly. “Really, Papa, I know what’s at risk here.” “Jumping to conclusions is not going to help.” Mary rolled her eyes. “Well, what will help then? Am I just supposed to pretend I’m not absolutely terrified right now that my husband might be missing or dead? I’m supposed to carry on and forget that there’s a war raging on out there, and my husband, the father of my daughter, is in the midst of it?” Cora held out a hand. “Mary, don’t bite our heads off.” “Why? Because you just want to help?” Mary snapped. She whirled around and faced the window, unable to look at either of her parents. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s the not knowing that’s the hardest for me. That’s what I can’t deal with.” Robert stood and put his arm around his daughter. “Please, don’t let yourself worry too much yet. I’ll call the war office and see what they can tell us. If there’s any explanation, they can tell us.” Mary pulled all the strength she had left in her and nodded silently. “Let’s do it.” Calling the war office, unfortunately, made nothing better. Mary listened to the voice on the other end rattling something off about field dressing stations and patrols and… Matthew hadn’t been seen for two weeks. Her stomach drops and she can barely hold onto the phone in her sweaty fingers. “You’re saying he’s missing,” she whispered, her voice cracking on every other word because she cannot comprehend this. The voice on the other end tried to console her, but it didn’t help. She stood, her back against the wall, willing herself not to collapse and cry as she tried to take in the news. “There’s a very good chance he’s still alive,” the voice said. “Things like this happen all the time.” But what if he’s not alive, was the resounding thought in Mary’s head, and her heart pounded as she tried to comprehend it. Of course, his death had been a possibility, a fear hiding in the back of her mind, but now it was almost a reality; she couldn’t ignore this anymore She finally gave into her urges and sank down onto the floor, collapsing into a ball and letting sob sobs out. The next few days were awful; Mary didn’t sleep, she didn’t eat, she only managed to smile in order to put on a good front for Violet, who could sense that something was up. The Christmas season no longer held its allure as Mary could not comprehend celebrating when her husband might be dead. All her responsibilities fell to the wayside and she sat at the window for long hours, just thinking, worrying, waiting for news. There was no news. By Christmas Eve, she knew nothing new.