She swallowed the lump in her throat, biting her lip against her gut reaction to soothe him with a quick promise she'd never leave him. They'd both been through too much to throw words like that around, knowing life could change in an instant. In an illness. In a car crash. In one's own bedroom, surrounded by doctors and nurses. In a war.

She had thought about it, as she knew he had, too. What would happen if he were to pass away and leave her in this life alone. She would soldier on, she knew she would, if only for the children and the grandchildren and the joy they brought her. And she knew Robert could survive without her, too, even if he didn't want to and didn't think he could. Maybe he would even experience a second love in his life, or at least a companion, as it seemed Mama and Cousin Isobel were finding in their later years. A second chance, of sorts. But even though she tried to be pragmatic about it and unselfish about it, as much as she would want any kind of happiness for Robert should something happen to her and she pass away, whenever she allowed herself to contemplate it, she shuddered at the thought of another woman sharing his life, holding his hand, catching eyes with him across the room. Another woman in his arms, in his bed. No. It simply did not do to dwell on it.

She searched his eyes, pausing before her response, and suddenly she thought that perhaps in his solemn words, there might be something more to his choice of verb - to leave him. She knew her husband tended to feel guilty and nurse old wounds for far too long. Perhaps there was something left in him still wondering about her passing flirtation with that dreadful Mr. Bricker; perhaps there was a lingering doubt about her love for him and commitment to him and their family. And that was a promise she could easily make.

Her breath shaking, she looked over his face tenderly and pressed herself softly into his chest. "Robert - our lives haven't always been easy, and they haven't been perfect. But you have done enough - more than enough. You gave me my life, my girls, you've made this my home. You're my whole heart," she whispered, watching a tiny tear escape down his cheek and feeling the prickling at her own eyes. She attempted a smile as she continued. "I could never leave you. There is nothing in this world that would take me from you."

He looked down shyly and the tiniest wave of a smile crossed his lips, and she knew she had been right to think he was subtly, perhaps even subconsciously, thinking of the months during and after Simon Bricker had entered their lives. She pressed her nose against his cheek and inhaled deeply, moving her hand to grip the collar of his jacket and hold him to her.

"I can't promise not to, not to," she choked quickly over the words, heart racing at the reality that with his possible heart condition still unknown, and his father's history, it was quite possible he would leave this earth before she would. "I can't promise not to die before you, dearest, and neither can you promise that to me. That would be unhelpful. Perhaps even tempt fate. I can only tell you I want nothing more from this life than to spend the rest of it with you. That my dearest wish is to make you happy, see our children and grandchildren happy, and that when we must go, we'll go together, many, many years from now."

A brief stretch of silence passed between them as they both let her words settle over them - a promise to stay side-by-side, no matter what else may come to pass. For better or for worse, Cora thought again, remembering the young, handsome, nervous almost-stranger who she had given her life to at that altar on that sunny day, so many years ago, and then holding the man in her arms now who she knew better than she knew herself. Who she loved more than she loved herself. Dear, dear Robert.

His hand came up to her hair and tucked her face closely against his neck - her special place, 'built just your size, just for you,' he once had said. "That would be nice, wouldn't it, that would be my ideal," he said softly, his hands beginning to pass over her back as she snuggled against him. "Maybe just one night in our bed, after a nice dinner with the children, the fire going, you in my arms."

"Many, many years from now," she added.

"Many, many years from now," he echoed, a hand pulling her chin up to his lips, gently sealing their promise with a kiss.

She pulled back to look at her husband, her dear, dear husband. She noticed the ever-present crease in his brow, the wrinkles at his eyes, the sweet rounding of his cheeks that always made her want to reach out and touch him. He was still so handsome. He still made her heart pound, made her stomach flutter, made her tingle with anticipation with his words and his eyes and lips. They were getting older, no doubt, but whenever she looked at him, she found she only ever saw what she felt - which was nothing but love grown deeper through the years. She hoped desperately that he saw that same love when he looked at her. As she watched a tender smile gather across his face, she thought he might.

"Robert, we still have some time before the dressing gong . . . will you come with me to our room, and - "

"Hold you? Let you hold me?" he chuckled softly. She nodded in agreement, smiling, and moved to stand when he held her back.

"Cora, I just . . . you've my heart, too. And you take such good care of it, darling. I wouldn't trust it with anyone else."

As they walked back to the estate arm-in-arm, as they'd done countless times before, and climbed the stairs to the room that had long since ceased to be hers and had simply become "theirs," as they helped each other undress and slip under the bedclothes and then into each other's arms, holding close, no words were spoken, and none were needed for both to know their love was strong enough, was promise enough, to let them face whatever might come their way.