Blame Luke Thompson for this. Also blame Jonathan Bailey as well.
Benedict unceremoniously rips the page from his sketchbook, and gives her the paper with a bashful smile, and when Kate turns it over in her hands, she can feel the tears forming before she’s even fully grasped just what Benedict has captured.
It’s a sketch, rough in nature, but no less magnificent in her eyes, of Anthony, Edmund and herself, as they sat huddled together on the settee she is currently sat on, earlier in the afternoon. Edmund joyful and wide eyed, giggling and clapping delighting his parents as they shower him with attention, the centre of their world.
There’s motion in the image, it isn’t flat or stilted; it’s alive with love, and Kate feels a warmth spread from her heart to every part of her soul. Benedict has recreated the scene so sweetly, with each stroke of his pencil she relives the moment, recalls the ache at how she wanted to remember Edmund like this, and her brother in law has done it for her.
She realises she hasn’t yet said anything, and her eyes snap up to Benedict’s. “I… I…oh Benedict.” She has to look at the sketch again, where she holds it so reverently, as if she can scarcely believe such a likeness has been captured.
“I just, well, watching the three of you before, you just seemed so happy, and well, before I quite knew it, I had already filled the page.”
“Benedict, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” She realises she catches him by surprise when she carefully places the sheet of paper on the table and sweeps him a quick hug, his posture wooden until she feels him exhale and relax. “Really, thank you Benedict.”
“What are you thanking Benedict for?” Anthony sweeps into the drawing room from taking Edmund to the nursery for his nap, and quirks an eyebrow at what Kate imagines are her rather tearful eyes.
She has to swallow before she is able to speak, and holds out the paper to him. Her voice is soft as she says “look at what your brother has drawn.”
Anthony makes it to her side, and takes the paper from her. She sees the play of emotions on his face as he takes in every detail, his eyes scanning the page as he stays silent. She sees his gaze catch on Edmund, just as hers had, their heart immortalised in pencil.
“Benedict…” Anthony clears his throat before continuing. “Thank you brother…truly. I…” He looks up at his brother, and Kate knows he’s struggling for words, same as she. In the end, he grasps Benedict’s arm and squeezes, and seemingly, that’s all that needs to be said, as Benedict nods in return, understanding lining his face.
She slips her hand through her husband’s arm and leans against it, and she joins him in looking back down at the sketch, knowing that she will be staring at it for some time. There’s a squeeze on her heart, so full of love it might burst, and her breath catches once more at the way the wonders of her life have been captured so beautifully on the simple paper in her husband’s hand.
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