FIC: Turn the Page ~ Chapter Two
Title: Turn the Page ~ Chapter Two
Author: bugs
Genre: AU, Drama, Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,000
~*~
"Bill, you won't be able to type drinking this much coffee first thing in the morning," said the cafe's barista as he pushed a a third cup of coffee across the scarred wooden counter.
Taking a deep drink first, Bill shook his head. "I'm fine, Jaffee." He gave the young man a smile and headed back to his table where his laptop waited. With satisfaction, he noticed the three sentence paragraph on the screen. It was a start.
She was remote, her secrets enrobed in a baggy midnight-blue wool shell. Her eyes were windows, but clouded gray so I couldn't see in. The way her nervous fingers toyed with the top button of her blouse drove me crazy, as her flashing wedding ring warned me off.
His own fingers had just settled on the keys when the cafe's door opened. His head shot up.
"Hey, Felix, join me when you've got your coffee," Bill called out. Grinning to himself, he tapped out a few more sentences until the charter school's administrator came to the table with his drink.
"How's it going, Bill?" asked Felix, shaking Sweet and Low into his skinny latte.
"Fine, fine." Bill latched onto the younger man with his intense gaze. "Hire your new teacher yet?"
"Nope."
"Any good candidates?" Bill drained his cup and nodded for a refill.
Felix gave a little shudder. "Depends on what you mean by good."
Bill decided to lay his cards down. "I chatted with a woman yesterday who was applying. Redhead--"
"You know I can't--"
"You're not hiring her?"
Felix looked over both of his shoulders and leaned close. "She's a nun!" he hissed.
Bill shook his head, sure he didn't hear right. "What?"
"A nun!"
"You're not giving her the job because of that?"
The younger man's face closed off. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying she was a nun."
"How does that keep her from being able to do that job?"
"You know our kids. They come from all sorts of families. Not her little choir boys--"
"Altar boys," interrupted Bill.
"I wouldn't know," sniffed Felix.
"You also don't know anything about nuns," growled Bill. He thought quickly. "San Raphael, nun...Probably is in the Dominican order that's over there. They run missions in Central America, have to deal with guerrillas, do death row visits at San Quentin...I hardly think any of your little punks would scare our Sister--"
"Sister Laura. How do you know this shit?" Felix asked unhappily.
Bill waved his hand at his companion. "Used a religious order in my third book."
Felix rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying--"
"Is she the best candidate on paper?" asked Bill.
"You know I can't--"
Bill interrupted him again. "Listen. Hire her. If it doesn't work out, I'll pay for the severance package to get her off your hands."
"What?" laughed Felix.
"Do it," ordered Bill.
"It's not my sole decision; I make my report and recommendations to the principal--"
"Do it," repeated Bill.
"Yes, sir," said Felix, even as he shook his head.
~*~
Laura finished with her morning prayers, crossed herself and put her rosary beads away. Refreshed in spirit if not mind, she fetched her morning paper and turned to the job classifieds. She knew she needed to get a computer and use the electronic job hunting options, but she was seriously behind when it came to technology. She'd left any web surfing to Sister Margaret and now regretted it.
So much to catch up on...
She sighed. She needed to sign up for ten different adult education classes at this rate. Then wondered if they had classes on dating...
Her phone rang. Still unaccustomed to the sound, Laura started.
"Hello," she answered cautiously.
"Hello, Laura, it's Elosha."
The Mother Superior had told Laura to call by her Christian name when she left the order, but she still wasn't comfortable with doing so.
"Hello Mother," she replied.
After chuckling, Elosha asked Laura how she was doing.
Looking around her small apartment's sparsely decorated living room, Laura said, "Fine."
"Found a job yet?" Elosha asked briskly.
"I had my first interview yesterday."
"How did it go?"
"It went well...Until he realized what I am..." Laura sighed.
"Laura, they can't possibly hold that against you."
She paced the hardwood floor. "I think it made him uncomfortable."
"Did you explain?"
"I didn't feel I had to," she said grumpily. "My resume should speak for itself."
The abbess laughed again. "Oh honey," she said affectionately.
The phone made an odd clicking noise. Laura realized it was the call waiting. "Please hold on a moment," she said, and switched to the other line. "Hello?"
"Laura Roslin?"
"Speaking."
"This is Felix Gaeta with the Bridge to Tomorrow Charter School."
"Yes?" Laura asked breathlessly.
She was stunned when he offered her the job. She managed to accept and received the details for beginning her position.
She almost forget to flip back over to Elosha. "You won't believe it!" she gasped. "I got the job!"
"I knew you would!"
Laura sank onto her saggy second-hand couch. "I can't thank you enough for your support in this. I wouldn't expect--"
"I want you to be happy, my dear," Elosha said affectionately.
"But I'm abandoning you--"
"But you're not abandoning Christ, are you?"
"No," Laura said slowly, pleating her skirt nervously.
"That's all that matters to me. Now go buy some more pretty outfits--"
Laura closed her eyes in fear, thinking of this daunting task. After saying goodbye, she sat for a few moments, cradling the cordless phone.
No, she couldn't abandon God. She fumbled at her chest, where a large wooden cross had once hung her every waking moment. Now a small gold cross nestled in her collarbone; harder to touch for comfort.
A cancer of discontent had taken root in her very cells, taking away her drive for the order's missions, her faith in her church and its leaders, and finally her vocation. She'd had to leave before she lost her last true belief, in her very Savior.
But Elosha was right. The mundane must take precedent. She'd need more clothes.
~*~
Bill was about to close up his laptop and go home when the door opened again and Laura Roslin entered. Her shoulders were slumped, despite only carrying one small shopping bag and her unfashionable purse. She placed her order and flopped into a chair at a table by the window, dunking her tea bag listlessly.
Sliding his laptop into its case, he zipped it closed. He made his way to her table.
"Oh, hello," he said, stopping beside her.
She gave him a vague smile. "Hello Mr. Adama."
"Call me Bill," he said smoothly as he sat across from her.
She blinked. "I'm Laura," she said carefully.
He gave her a friendly smile. "Did you get the job?"
"Why, yes," she said, as though the idea was still odd to her.
"Good to hear," he rumbled, pleased with his success.
She started to say something, then changed her mind. "Are you working on another book?" she asked.
His glee dissipated. "Yeah," he grumbled, his big hand smoothing the leather laptop case.
"It's been two years since your last book came out," she said guilelessly. "I checked the publication date."
"Yeah," he said, tense.
"Don't the publishers usually expect you to give them a book more often?"
He gritted his teeth. "Yeah."
"Are you going to expound on the theme of isolation and loss you introduced in your latest? I'm really enjoying learning more about Husker's background--" Laura stopped. She could sense the writer's discomfort, even as his expression stayed stoic. "I'm sorry, I'm going on and on. I'm sure you're tired of hearing your reader's input."
"No, it's really helpful," he said, not sounding particularly grateful.
She sipped her tea nervously.
He gave her a quick smile. "When do you start classes?"
He obviously wanted to change the subject. "Monday." She glanced down at her bag. "I've been trying to do some shopping."
Bill craned his neck to look under the table. "Not much there."
"I'm not used to buying clothes," she said stiffly.
His face turned crafty. "That's unusual in a woman."
"That's sexist of you."
He looked completely unrepentant. "Yeah, it is. What'dya expect of an old cop?"
She fixed him with a sharp glare. "Why do I sense you use that excuse whenever you've made an ass of yourself?"
He chuckled.
Looking around the room, Laura took a deep breath to keep from joining his laughter. She refused to encourage him.
"Say, why don't we get out of here?" he suggested.
She stared at him in shock. "What?"
He looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
Understanding dawned for Laura. "Why not?"
He shrugged, not meeting her gaze.
"Do I have a cross tattooed on my forehead?" she asked, her face pale.
"I can read people, remember?" Then quickly, he added, "And word's gotten around."
She stood. That damned snoopy maintenance man in her apartment building.. "Anyway, I better go," she said tightly.
He stood as well. "I'd be interested in hearing more ideas you have for my book," he said.
"I could talk about it here," Laura said breathlessly, gripping the back of her chair. She suddenly wanted to go somewhere private with this man, but had no idea what that impulse meant and where it would lead.
"I'd like to hear more about your life, actually," he said. "And didn't think you'd want to talk here."
"Me?" She became even more nervous. "Why do you want to know about me?"
"People's lives are a writer's building blocks."
She continued to look doubtful.
"I'll trade you. I'll tell you about Husker's problems if you'll share some of your stories."
She suddenly smiled. "Trust me, my life won't fit into one of your books."
"You wanted me to expand and grow remember? Maybe I've been putting the wrong sort of women in my stories all this time."
He'd moved to stand beside her and was smiling down at her. She felt his hand settle on the small of her back, the fingers spreading across it. He gave some pressure, pushing her very gently forward.
"Where do you want to talk?" she asked, even as she retrieved her bags and went through the door.
"I live a couple of blocks away," he said nonchalantly. "I have tea there."
She nearly stumbled on the sidewalk, then straightened her spine, stopping their forward progress. The crosswalk light was green, but she wasn't going anywhere. Grumbling people swarmed around them to cross.
Using her firmest tone, Laura said, "Mr. Adama, I don't think this a good idea--"
He peered at her over his glasses. "You think--" His olive skin flushed.
Gently taking her arm, he pulled her into the doorway of a shop. "Laura, I'm not that kinda guy--"
Now it was her turn to blush. She was sure what he meant was she wasn't that type of woman.
He stared out into passing traffic. "I've been having trouble writing," he said tersely. His gaze shifted to her. "After I met you yesterday, I've been writing."
Quickly licking her lips, Laura tried to understand. "I've helped you?"
"I think so."
Warmth passed through her limbs. Laura loved helping others, and here was a man who'd given her so much pleasure. If she could help him....
But doubt was still there. "I'm still not sure a woman like me has any place in your sort of books--you think I could be a murderer?"
His grin flashed at her in the dim doorway. "Don't underestimate yourself."
Her giggles, always nervously bubbling right below the surface, escaped in a torrent, and she sagged against the wall for support.
He gripped her elbow, helping her catch her balance again as she recovered. He swept her curling hair from her flushed cheeks, cradling her warm face for just a moment. "Careful there," he said, his own amusement in his voice. "Don't want to go too fast here."
Straightening, she nodded. He was right. She had to take things slow, and he appeared willing to accept that.
The light was green again. She strode to the curb. She was ready to help William Adama with his story...And finish her own.
End chapter two~
Author: bugs
Genre: AU, Drama, Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,000
~*~
"Bill, you won't be able to type drinking this much coffee first thing in the morning," said the cafe's barista as he pushed a a third cup of coffee across the scarred wooden counter.
Taking a deep drink first, Bill shook his head. "I'm fine, Jaffee." He gave the young man a smile and headed back to his table where his laptop waited. With satisfaction, he noticed the three sentence paragraph on the screen. It was a start.
She was remote, her secrets enrobed in a baggy midnight-blue wool shell. Her eyes were windows, but clouded gray so I couldn't see in. The way her nervous fingers toyed with the top button of her blouse drove me crazy, as her flashing wedding ring warned me off.
His own fingers had just settled on the keys when the cafe's door opened. His head shot up.
"Hey, Felix, join me when you've got your coffee," Bill called out. Grinning to himself, he tapped out a few more sentences until the charter school's administrator came to the table with his drink.
"How's it going, Bill?" asked Felix, shaking Sweet and Low into his skinny latte.
"Fine, fine." Bill latched onto the younger man with his intense gaze. "Hire your new teacher yet?"
"Nope."
"Any good candidates?" Bill drained his cup and nodded for a refill.
Felix gave a little shudder. "Depends on what you mean by good."
Bill decided to lay his cards down. "I chatted with a woman yesterday who was applying. Redhead--"
"You know I can't--"
"You're not hiring her?"
Felix looked over both of his shoulders and leaned close. "She's a nun!" he hissed.
Bill shook his head, sure he didn't hear right. "What?"
"A nun!"
"You're not giving her the job because of that?"
The younger man's face closed off. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying she was a nun."
"How does that keep her from being able to do that job?"
"You know our kids. They come from all sorts of families. Not her little choir boys--"
"Altar boys," interrupted Bill.
"I wouldn't know," sniffed Felix.
"You also don't know anything about nuns," growled Bill. He thought quickly. "San Raphael, nun...Probably is in the Dominican order that's over there. They run missions in Central America, have to deal with guerrillas, do death row visits at San Quentin...I hardly think any of your little punks would scare our Sister--"
"Sister Laura. How do you know this shit?" Felix asked unhappily.
Bill waved his hand at his companion. "Used a religious order in my third book."
Felix rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying--"
"Is she the best candidate on paper?" asked Bill.
"You know I can't--"
Bill interrupted him again. "Listen. Hire her. If it doesn't work out, I'll pay for the severance package to get her off your hands."
"What?" laughed Felix.
"Do it," ordered Bill.
"It's not my sole decision; I make my report and recommendations to the principal--"
"Do it," repeated Bill.
"Yes, sir," said Felix, even as he shook his head.
~*~
Laura finished with her morning prayers, crossed herself and put her rosary beads away. Refreshed in spirit if not mind, she fetched her morning paper and turned to the job classifieds. She knew she needed to get a computer and use the electronic job hunting options, but she was seriously behind when it came to technology. She'd left any web surfing to Sister Margaret and now regretted it.
So much to catch up on...
She sighed. She needed to sign up for ten different adult education classes at this rate. Then wondered if they had classes on dating...
Her phone rang. Still unaccustomed to the sound, Laura started.
"Hello," she answered cautiously.
"Hello, Laura, it's Elosha."
The Mother Superior had told Laura to call by her Christian name when she left the order, but she still wasn't comfortable with doing so.
"Hello Mother," she replied.
After chuckling, Elosha asked Laura how she was doing.
Looking around her small apartment's sparsely decorated living room, Laura said, "Fine."
"Found a job yet?" Elosha asked briskly.
"I had my first interview yesterday."
"How did it go?"
"It went well...Until he realized what I am..." Laura sighed.
"Laura, they can't possibly hold that against you."
She paced the hardwood floor. "I think it made him uncomfortable."
"Did you explain?"
"I didn't feel I had to," she said grumpily. "My resume should speak for itself."
The abbess laughed again. "Oh honey," she said affectionately.
The phone made an odd clicking noise. Laura realized it was the call waiting. "Please hold on a moment," she said, and switched to the other line. "Hello?"
"Laura Roslin?"
"Speaking."
"This is Felix Gaeta with the Bridge to Tomorrow Charter School."
"Yes?" Laura asked breathlessly.
She was stunned when he offered her the job. She managed to accept and received the details for beginning her position.
She almost forget to flip back over to Elosha. "You won't believe it!" she gasped. "I got the job!"
"I knew you would!"
Laura sank onto her saggy second-hand couch. "I can't thank you enough for your support in this. I wouldn't expect--"
"I want you to be happy, my dear," Elosha said affectionately.
"But I'm abandoning you--"
"But you're not abandoning Christ, are you?"
"No," Laura said slowly, pleating her skirt nervously.
"That's all that matters to me. Now go buy some more pretty outfits--"
Laura closed her eyes in fear, thinking of this daunting task. After saying goodbye, she sat for a few moments, cradling the cordless phone.
No, she couldn't abandon God. She fumbled at her chest, where a large wooden cross had once hung her every waking moment. Now a small gold cross nestled in her collarbone; harder to touch for comfort.
A cancer of discontent had taken root in her very cells, taking away her drive for the order's missions, her faith in her church and its leaders, and finally her vocation. She'd had to leave before she lost her last true belief, in her very Savior.
But Elosha was right. The mundane must take precedent. She'd need more clothes.
~*~
Bill was about to close up his laptop and go home when the door opened again and Laura Roslin entered. Her shoulders were slumped, despite only carrying one small shopping bag and her unfashionable purse. She placed her order and flopped into a chair at a table by the window, dunking her tea bag listlessly.
Sliding his laptop into its case, he zipped it closed. He made his way to her table.
"Oh, hello," he said, stopping beside her.
She gave him a vague smile. "Hello Mr. Adama."
"Call me Bill," he said smoothly as he sat across from her.
She blinked. "I'm Laura," she said carefully.
He gave her a friendly smile. "Did you get the job?"
"Why, yes," she said, as though the idea was still odd to her.
"Good to hear," he rumbled, pleased with his success.
She started to say something, then changed her mind. "Are you working on another book?" she asked.
His glee dissipated. "Yeah," he grumbled, his big hand smoothing the leather laptop case.
"It's been two years since your last book came out," she said guilelessly. "I checked the publication date."
"Yeah," he said, tense.
"Don't the publishers usually expect you to give them a book more often?"
He gritted his teeth. "Yeah."
"Are you going to expound on the theme of isolation and loss you introduced in your latest? I'm really enjoying learning more about Husker's background--" Laura stopped. She could sense the writer's discomfort, even as his expression stayed stoic. "I'm sorry, I'm going on and on. I'm sure you're tired of hearing your reader's input."
"No, it's really helpful," he said, not sounding particularly grateful.
She sipped her tea nervously.
He gave her a quick smile. "When do you start classes?"
He obviously wanted to change the subject. "Monday." She glanced down at her bag. "I've been trying to do some shopping."
Bill craned his neck to look under the table. "Not much there."
"I'm not used to buying clothes," she said stiffly.
His face turned crafty. "That's unusual in a woman."
"That's sexist of you."
He looked completely unrepentant. "Yeah, it is. What'dya expect of an old cop?"
She fixed him with a sharp glare. "Why do I sense you use that excuse whenever you've made an ass of yourself?"
He chuckled.
Looking around the room, Laura took a deep breath to keep from joining his laughter. She refused to encourage him.
"Say, why don't we get out of here?" he suggested.
She stared at him in shock. "What?"
He looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
Understanding dawned for Laura. "Why not?"
He shrugged, not meeting her gaze.
"Do I have a cross tattooed on my forehead?" she asked, her face pale.
"I can read people, remember?" Then quickly, he added, "And word's gotten around."
She stood. That damned snoopy maintenance man in her apartment building.. "Anyway, I better go," she said tightly.
He stood as well. "I'd be interested in hearing more ideas you have for my book," he said.
"I could talk about it here," Laura said breathlessly, gripping the back of her chair. She suddenly wanted to go somewhere private with this man, but had no idea what that impulse meant and where it would lead.
"I'd like to hear more about your life, actually," he said. "And didn't think you'd want to talk here."
"Me?" She became even more nervous. "Why do you want to know about me?"
"People's lives are a writer's building blocks."
She continued to look doubtful.
"I'll trade you. I'll tell you about Husker's problems if you'll share some of your stories."
She suddenly smiled. "Trust me, my life won't fit into one of your books."
"You wanted me to expand and grow remember? Maybe I've been putting the wrong sort of women in my stories all this time."
He'd moved to stand beside her and was smiling down at her. She felt his hand settle on the small of her back, the fingers spreading across it. He gave some pressure, pushing her very gently forward.
"Where do you want to talk?" she asked, even as she retrieved her bags and went through the door.
"I live a couple of blocks away," he said nonchalantly. "I have tea there."
She nearly stumbled on the sidewalk, then straightened her spine, stopping their forward progress. The crosswalk light was green, but she wasn't going anywhere. Grumbling people swarmed around them to cross.
Using her firmest tone, Laura said, "Mr. Adama, I don't think this a good idea--"
He peered at her over his glasses. "You think--" His olive skin flushed.
Gently taking her arm, he pulled her into the doorway of a shop. "Laura, I'm not that kinda guy--"
Now it was her turn to blush. She was sure what he meant was she wasn't that type of woman.
He stared out into passing traffic. "I've been having trouble writing," he said tersely. His gaze shifted to her. "After I met you yesterday, I've been writing."
Quickly licking her lips, Laura tried to understand. "I've helped you?"
"I think so."
Warmth passed through her limbs. Laura loved helping others, and here was a man who'd given her so much pleasure. If she could help him....
But doubt was still there. "I'm still not sure a woman like me has any place in your sort of books--you think I could be a murderer?"
His grin flashed at her in the dim doorway. "Don't underestimate yourself."
Her giggles, always nervously bubbling right below the surface, escaped in a torrent, and she sagged against the wall for support.
He gripped her elbow, helping her catch her balance again as she recovered. He swept her curling hair from her flushed cheeks, cradling her warm face for just a moment. "Careful there," he said, his own amusement in his voice. "Don't want to go too fast here."
Straightening, she nodded. He was right. She had to take things slow, and he appeared willing to accept that.
The light was green again. She strode to the curb. She was ready to help William Adama with his story...And finish her own.
End chapter two~