Mysterious Taylor! (A John Deacon fic)

English Garden

  As the autumn leaves rustled in the Indian summer breeze twirling throughout the English garden, Taylor sat on a wooden chair with a glass of white wine in her hand. She kicked off her sandals and brought her knees up to her chest, nestling the glass against her breast after sipping off the cool beverage. As the liquid made its way down her throat, she watched nature following its course, the hint of a grin adorning her cheeks.

Towering over the neatly cut grass, a cypress kept watch over the backyard, while a line of ants penetrated their nest at its foot. Farther down the hedge, the cascading leaves of a willow caressed the surface of a small pond, as its fish attempted to catch insects settled upon the water, creating ripples sparkling under the setting sun. Birds chirped all around, and a squirrel dashed across the grass, its fur a striking red against the green surroundings.

In the middle of the garden sat a toddler, playing with a toy plane and a car. The breeze had given more colour to his round cheeks, but he did not seem to be bothered by it in the slightest. He kept speaking to himself, playing out the story he had made up in his head, acting each role with all his heart, and imitating engine noises. He was rather oblivious to the beauty of the estate, almost unimpressed, and was too focused on his game to notice that he was being watched.

Captivated by the scene, Taylor did not hear the footsteps approaching. But as John's lips pressed against her hair, she closed her eyes and widened her grin.

He sat down on the chair next to her, running his fingers down her spine as she purred in contentment. She gazed at him for a moment, before shifting her attention back to the child.

'He's growing up so fast,' she murmured with a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

'He is,' John acquiesced with a sigh. 'Isn't he beautiful?'

Taylor took another sip of her wine and nodded, admiring the boy's traits.

'He has your eyes.'

'But he looks a lot like you too, Taylor. I see you in him.'

'Maybe because you want to see me in him. He's more handsome, like you.'

She stretched out her hand and attempted to tousle John's hair, only to find disappointment as his hair had been cut too short for her to do it.

'You cut your hair, that's not fair!' she laughed.

'Ah, times change, you know,' he replied with a hand running across his scalp. 'It's also the only self-defence mechanism I've found against you.'

'Oh, come on, am I that aggressive?'

John chuckled and shook his head, before wrapping an arm around her. They both gazed ahead of them in silence, welcoming the occasional scent of the trees embracing them. Every so often, Taylor brought her glass to her lips, enjoying the fruity tints of the drink.

'I love it when Septembers are warm like this,' she eventually broke the silence. 'Especially after a wet summer. I'll never get enough of that feeling.'

'Remember that time we stayed at that old cottage up in the Highlands? We'd been so surprised by the temperatures that we just wouldn't stay inside. All the strolls along the cliffs, the pick-nicks on the banks of the loch...'

'The smoky whisky we tasted in that small fishing village,' she completed the thought, immersing herself back into her old memories. 'I remember.'

'I'm surprised you even remember that part,' he snickered, 'you were hammered. I had to carry you on my back on our way back to the cottage. We got lucky that one of the fisher's caught up on us with his car to bring us back.'