The Polly Principle by Davina Stone
Epilogue
One Year Later…
“Can you please just pick up this dropped stitch, hon, please?”
Polly had that cute helpless look in her eyes that got him every time.
In the midst of doing up his tie, he shook his head in mock-exasperation and then couldn’t help grinning at the picture of Polly, curls akimbo, a frown puckering her brow as she tried to finish a square for the baby blanket she was knitting for the Blimp, AKA Thomas.
It had been a labour of love. And he loved her for doing it.
He dropped a kiss on her hair, drank in the jasmine scent of her latest favourite shampoo (the one that now sat next to his in the shower cubicle of the apartment they’d just rented together) and took the knitting from her. A few quick and nimble moves and it was sorted.
“Now put the end of your needles in the ball of wool so it doesn’t unravel and get your shoes on. We’re going to be late at this rate.”
Polly shoved her hair out of her eyes and pushed her lip out. They were both still flushed from a particularly frantic love-making session, the reason, far more than the knitting, why they were risking being late.
Finally they were in the Uber and heading for Kings Park.
“Feeling good about this?” Solo asked, winding his fingers through hers.
She nodded. “Absolutely. They should have done it years ago.”
Solo squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. It wasn’t quite time for him and Polly, though they’d had the tentative conversation about serious stuff like whether the wedding cake should be chocolate or fruit cake. Whether she’d wear a white dress.
No, Polly had pouted. Red. And lacey.
He’d laughed. She could turn up in a corset and suspenders, for all he cared, as long as she promised to stay with him forever. And every day, it was feeling more likely. They’d even discussed baby names. Once.
He was a patient man.
Finally the car stopped at the top of the hill, the grassy slopes edging down to a panorama of the city skyline. Glass and metal buildings stole the foreground, beyond which the Swan River sparkled, a great expanse of blue, dotted with sailing boats. Solo was growing to love this city with its big spaces and even bigger skies. Taking on the new role as psychiatrist to the Emergency Response Team at the hospital had also proven wonderfully challenging.
So was life with Polly. Full of laughter and the occasional humdinger of a fight, all the better for making up after. And the fights were getting less as they learned how not to press each other’s buttons.
Now, as they hurried along, he could make out Kate nursing baby Thomas in her arms, and Joe’s broad shoulders. Solo recognised more faces from his visits to the farm in recent months, keeping Ted company with a non-alcoholic beer at the pub.
And there, finally, was Ted. Looking nervous, tugging at his bow tie.
“Come on, quick, hon, before Mim arrives.”
He grabbed her hand and they sprinted over to the others. The marriage celebrant smiled at them and Joe beckoned.
Polly’s green gaze joined with his in an intimate moment that spoke volumes. Every day there was more trust glowing out of those bewitching eyes.
He squeezed back.
And then there was Mim, dressed in a pearly cream dress with a hat full of gold and dusky pink roses. Radiant. When he spied her, Ted’s grin was big enough to split his face. He looked so proud. Here were these two, finally joining together in marriage for all to see. Celebrating a love that had weathered the storms. Celebrating the love that Mim had kept on giving, unconditionally, despite all those ups and downs.
Finally winning her Ted, wholeheartedly.
And in turn Ted had won back his daughter’s love. It warmed Solo’s heart every time he watched Ted and Polly wrestling hay bales onto the back of the tractor and trundling off in the ute to mend fences together.
He glanced down and saw Polly’s eyes glinting with unshed tears.
Happy tears. He let his arm snake around her waist. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, exactly where it belonged.
Solo imagined that same head, in thirty years’ time, the curls streaked salt and pepper just like Mim’s. Somewhere inside him he knew, he knew, that head would still be right there by his side.
They’d be sitting talking about their grandkids in front of a fire, maybe knitting, possibly eating chocolate, Polly still complaining about her thighs and then laughing at how ridiculous that was.
He kissed the top of her curls. Soon. Very soon, he’d ask her…
They both stood to attention as the marriage celebrant spoke. “We are here today to join Ted Fletcher in marriage to his beloved partner Mim Walters… on this beautiful day, we, their family and friends come together to celebrate the abiding nature of true love…”
His girl nestled against his hip, his new family all around him, Solo sighed happily.
Amen to that.