Charles/Laura fic, chapter 14 'Through Time & Seasons'
Through Time & Seasons
By Missbevcrusher
Rated: [M]
Lost the thread since my last post? I have assembled a condensed recap of this story so as to give readers the option of situating themselves in the storyline without having to re-read the whole entire thing. The recap includes brief summaries of each chapter as well as excerpts (note, excerpts are hidden behind an LJ cut).
The link below contains two posts. If you want to bypass the first chapters, simply scroll down to the second post.
(Condensed recap of the story)
Previous chapters (the complete chapters) can be found here.
Thanks go out to tayryn for taking the time to give me feedback on this. I really appreciate it. Also, a million thanks to those of you who have decided to continue on this journey.
Chapter 14 ~ Yearning
Dusk had fallen and the sky was tinged violet and deep blue. The stars were awakening by the minute, slowly filling the heavens with their scintillating light. There were a few clouds too, light and puffy, their underbellies glowing a soft pink in the heavily slanted, fading rays of the now sleeping sun.
As Charles made his way down Main Street, his gait relaxed and measured, he couldn’t help but note how Somerville became a very different place once night started its descent. Though certainly not a frenzied city, it was a lively community during the day, with lots of people on its earthen roads.
At twilight however, things would slow down. As folks retired to their homes, the traffic would lessen to a trickle and the crickets would start to chirp.
It was homely and comforting in a way-vastly different from the restless cities he had known in the 21st century.
Families would be gathered around their dinner tables right about now, their stoves still hot from the day’s cooking. In the distance, he could see lazy columns of smoke rising toward the heavens-the graceful swirls growing increasingly faint against the dimming sky.
Save for the stars, it would be completely dark soon. Even the moon was shying away tonight, almost completely hidden behind the Earth’s rounded shadow.
Walking along, Charles reseated his hat and looked at the shops lining the street. They were closed now, their doors shut until morning.
He too had finished work for the day-twelve long hours of tending horses now behind him.
It was tiring work, yes. But he had no cause for complaint.
The pay, though modest, was sufficient. And his boss had proved to be a fair and patient man thus far.
Despite all Laura had taught him, Charles had made a few mistakes on his first day at the livery. At the time, he had feared being fired. And truth be told, he had expected it. Luckily, however, Mr. McFarland had opted to keep him around, had said, “A man can’t improve if he’s not given the chance, can he?”
To hear that he was staying on had been a relief, telling Laura the best part of all. She had been so happy, had thrown her arms about his neck in unrestrained joy.
A week and a half had passed since then and-much to his relief-his horse keeping skills had improved substantially.
Things were looking up, it seemed. And both he and Laura were hoping their luck would hold.
She would be at the Gazette tonight. Of that he was pretty certain for he had been helping her with her sports page every night for the better part of a week now.
Together-under lamplight-they had planned the layout and overall content of the page, lingering greatly on discussing the rules of baseball since it was the only sport she could really cover for the time being.
Watching the game with her last night had been wonderful, the two of them cheering and taking notes from the comfort of her wagon.
Here, baseball was played in a field near the church. There was no stadium, no lights, or concession stands. The players weren’t star athletes but local residents playing not for money, but for simple love of the game.
It had been a joy to watch, seeing a sport in its humble beginnings a veritable privilege. Charles had loved every minute of it. Not only that, but he had loved spending time with Laura too.
They’d had fun together.
Admittedly, theirs was a rather interesting courtship. Bound to their everyday responsibilities, they would steal moments whenever they could, whether it was a shared look across the printing press or a subtle brush of the hand as they worked in close proximity.
Sometimes, it was rather playful. More often than not however, it was maddening, increasingly so as time went on.
A slightly nervous breath leaving his lungs, Charles looked down at his shirt and self-consciously brushed his sleeves to erase the faint creases in the fabric.
It was a clean shirt, one he had donned after scrubbing up real quick at the livery.
Laura would not have reproached his cleanliness, he knew. But having worked with horses all day, the last thing he wanted was to smell like one when he saw her.
This little ritual had earned him a few light-hearted jokes from the fellas at work-something he always bore with a chuckle and a shake of the head. In truth, Charles didn’t really mind their teasing and actually thought it likely they would have done the same had their roles been reversed.
He was walking by the barber shop now, mere steps away from the swath of light cast through the front window of the Gazette.
Under the guise of wiping the side of his face, he took a small whiff of his shirtsleeve, glad and relieved to find the lingering scent of home-made soap.
With renewed confidence, Charles climbed the steps in leaps and bounds, his footfalls surprisingly silent against the wooden boards. When he reached for the doorknob however, he found himself pausing, unable to knock just yet as he indulged in the sight beyond the glass.
Laura was sitting at her typewriter, delicate wisps of her hair framing her face as she worked in quiet focus. While there were many lamps about the room, the one on her desk was bathing her profile in a gentle glow, making her features look even softer than usual.
Finally, with anticipation knotting his insides, his hand rose to knock on the door-three raps, soft and barely audible, that made her look towards him.
As soon as their eyes met, her entire face seemed to light up-sea green eyes sparkling in welcome as a full smile spread across her mouth. In the face of this, Charles felt his heart speed up, his own smile broadening in answer to hers.
He opened the door just as she rose. “Hi,” he said. “Hope I’m not too late.”
“Not at all.” Laura crossed the room in order to meet him, promptly taking his hat and leather satchel to hang on a nearby hook. Doing so, she looked over her shoulder and eyed him knowingly for a moment or two. “You don’t have to change clothes every time you come here, you know.”
She was teasing. He could tell by the smirk she wore.
“Smells that bad, huh?” he replied lightheartedly, pointing to the satchel as Laura moved to close the distance between them, her skirt swaying as she walked.
“No.” She rounded the banister and came to stand in front of him, her hands seeking purchase of the handrail behind her. There was a definite pause, a perceptive glint colouring her gaze, and then, “I just know you, is all.”
“Is that so?”
In a manner that was both sweet and flirtatious, Laura raised her chin a little. Her irises were partially shaded beneath her lashes, her mouth curved just so. “Uh-huh.” The utterance was low and smoky, a bit drawn-out even.
It pleased him to no end when she flirted like that.
If truth be told, furtive looks and playful words had become the main avenue through which they courted-especially in the evening when lamplight cast them in plain view of passersby.
And so, mindful of having a potential audience, Charles did not touch or kiss her. Instead, he allowed his gaze to linger on her face, absorbing one beautiful detail at a time, before work finally beckoned, as it always did.
“So how was your day?” she asked over her shoulder, her feet carrying her closer to the desk.
“Oh, can’t complain.”
Reaching for a lunch pail, Laura turned to face him once more. “Here you go.” She was smiling but her eyes said not to argue. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”
Chuckling softly, Charles took the proffered bundle. “Thanks,” he said, then looked beneath the folded layers of linen inside. She had brought some biscuits, fried chicken, and cookies.
Pulling the type setter’s chair next to her work station, he returned her earlier query and asked how her day had been.
“T’was alright.” She nodded but there was something in her expression.
Just then, his eyes fell to a folded newspaper by the oil lamp, a publication he would recognize anywhere… and he knew. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Sally brought it over this afternoon,” she answered, then sat down.
Suppressing the urge to simply toss it, Charles picked it up and flipped the pages. It was the Monitor’s latest edition. And sure enough, it contained a new cartoon page.
Similar to Laura’s in both style and humour, he figured the townsfolk would enjoy it, but the Gazette still had an edge in his opinion.
“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said before tossing the newspaper in the trash can. “You’re setting the trend here, Laura. Not Larson.”
She seemed truly reassured by his words, distinct hope coming to light her features. “Speaking of which…” Gingerly, Laura reached for a downturned page on the desk and handed it over.
He read it while she waited and a smile soon spread across his mouth.
It was her sports page, or at least the first printed sample of it.
“What do you think?” she asked, her voice nervous yet hopeful at the same time.
“This is really good.” He meant it.
Looking up, Charles saw the buoyant smile she wore-such light-and his heart stirred within his chest.
The paper was not merely a source of revenue for her. It was her husband’s legacy, the business she had fought to keep, shedding blood, sweat, and tears in the process.
When he had first stumbled onto this place, the Gazette had been struggling. Back then, tossing unsold newspapers at the end of the day had been commonplace. Luckily, it seldom happened nowadays.
“People will love it,” he reiterated with sincerity.
At her insistence, he soon reached into the lunch pail and started eating. As he did, Laura prepped the equipment, oiling some of the key parts and wiping the excess. Then, once he had finished dinner, they got to work, the two of them manning the press as the wheels and cogs turned to produce the Gazette’s latest trend-setting endeavour.
While Laura carefully fed the pages into the rollers, Charles retrieved the prints and hung them up to dry, ten or so at a time, on a line that hung above the California job cases-the cabinets used to store letters of various font types and sizes.
Admittedly, printing without the benefit of a modern printer was a lot of work, but for him, it was well worth the time. The end result was outstanding, the ink resting in sharp contrast to the white paper beneath. It was true craftsmanship in a sense and it pained him to think how quickly the trade would change.
Deciding not to dwell on it, Charles went about his task, the heavy sounds of machinery filling the space around him. It was loud but not unpleasant, a rhythmic “ca-chunk, ca-chunk” he had come to know well.
They had a good pace going too, and before the clock struck nine, all the pages were printed.
“You know, I used to collect these,” Charles stated a little while later, as they sat at the back of the room, assembling each newspaper, one at a time.
“You mean newspapers?” Laura seemed amused.
“Yeah well, old ones at least. I had a bunch of ‘em. From all sorts of places.” Thinking back to his old basement-the part of his house that had been his refuge of sorts-he sighed in fondness and smiled.
He remembered telling her about his penchant for collecting stuff during a rare moment alone together. They had been at the river that evening, in that special spot he considered to be theirs. The river hollows…
It seemed like ages ago now.
“Collecting things…” she offered after a time. “It suits you for some reason.”
There was such warmth to her as she spoke, in the way she regarded him. It was quite heartening.
“And so, where would you get all of those things?” she asked, clearing her throat as her eyes sparkled with genuine interest.
It was one of the things he loved about her-how she actually took part in a conversation, her queries sparked not by a need to fill a pause, but by sincere curiosity.
“Antique stores, road shows,” he answered, then watched as her gaze flickered about the room.
“It’s strange to think of these things as antiques,” she offered. “To me, they’re so… normal and current.”
At this, Charles could only nod, very much aware of the passage of time, and how it would eventually go on without them.
It was a humbling thought.
On the wall, the clock kept on ticking and they worked some more, their fingertips whispering against the pages as they went along.
As Charles finished yet another paper, a gentle confession broke through the focused calm in the room, words he had once said to her.
“Sometimes, I envy you,” Laura murmured.
Lifting his gaze, he saw a tiny, wistful smile on her lips. Her eyes were downcast, her fingers unrelenting in their task. “The things you’ve seen. The places you’ve been…”
The admission rocked him a little and he found himself pausing.
“You’ll see lots of things, Laura.” It was a promise, one rooted in knowledge and hope alike. While she would witness monumental changes in the decades to come, Charles wished she could step out of her routine, experience new things and see new places… travel.
It was a dream, and mayhap a distant one, but they would do that someday, the two of them, together. He chose to believe that. Now whether or not she did, he couldn’t say for sure. But he was hopeful, knew that she had dreams for them also.
“I know I’ve said this before.” she said, changing the subject and meeting his gaze. “But thank you.”
Charles gave a smile and shrugged. Before he could speak, however, Laura continued, “I mean it. You work all day at the livery, and still you come over every night. It means a lot.”
“It’s not a chore to me,” he replied, his heart swelling at what he wanted to say. It took a few seconds for the words to form, but when they did, they rolled off his tongue as though it was the easiest thing in the world. “I miss you like crazy when you’re not around.”
At this, she blushed and her breath seemed to catch in her throat.
“I really do,” he continued and watched as her eyelids fell shut for a moment. When she looked at him once more, her eyes were bright with a thin veil of moisture, her lips curved into a smile of genuine happiness.
Truly, it made his life to see her like that.
Laura took a moment to compose herself. “I just wouldn’t want you to burn the candle at both ends, you know?”
“I won’t.” His answer came without pause or forethought and he hoped she would discern the truth in it.
Later, once all the newspapers had been assembled, they stood by the wash bowl in the corner of the room.
“Sure does a number on your fingers, doesn’t it?” Charles chuckled as he scrubbed his hands.
“And on your face too.” Laura’s reply came as she finished drying her fingers, her gaze sparkling with amusement, gentleness, and something else. When she touched him, slowly and with care, the back of her hand brushing his cheek in an attempt at wiping the ink from his skin, Charles’ mirth receded and he found he had to steady himself.
If the contact was simple, it was no less rousing, causing his heart to beat a changing rhythm. This woman, he decided, could make his head spin without even trying.
Gazes locked, her touch lingering, they remained as they were for several long moments, the cadence of their breathing hastening at the unspoken words now floating between them.
It was a familiar tension, one that was becoming increasingly insistent every time they were alone together.
And it wasn’t just him. He could tell.
While Laura had always lived in these morally structured times, she was but a human being, a woman with needs and wants like any other. It was written in her eyes, in the delicate way her knuckles grazed his cheek.
From the very first time he had kissed her, Charles had discerned the sensuality she possessed, an eagerness to touch and be touched and a desire to give as well as receive.
Alas…
“We should go,” she finally whispered, making his heart clench at the reality between them.
And so, amid shared looks of understanding, he watched as Laura reluctantly eased away. Wordlessly, she waited for him to finish washing his hands before taking the wash bowl and discarding its contents out the window.
As she did, Charles pointed to one of the lamps mounted on the wall, asked. “Want me to start putting these out?”
“Please,” she answered gratefully, nimble fingers seeking to close and secure the window once again.
Obliging, he went from lamp to lamp, extinguishing them with a gentle turn of a knob, until only one remained. Turning to look at Laura, he saw that she had removed her sleeve coverings and was now fetching their things from the hooks on the wall.
When she started towards him and nodded once, he took it as permission to douse the lone source of illumination in the room, the small lamp beside her typewriter.
With a final twist of a knob, obscurity fell and for a brief moment, there was silence. As his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, Charles heard the tell-tale sound of items being deposited on the desk-his things and hers, the ones she had been holding.
And then he saw her.
Laura was standing in shadow, her motionless silhouette jet black against the faint illumination from across the street. While he couldn’t see her eyes, he felt her gaze nonetheless, and it was as if she could see right through him.
Swallowing, he stood there as she took a step forward, then another… and another. When he felt the gentle press of her hand on his rapidly beating heart, Charles noted that she was trembling-or maybe that was him. It was hard to say.
They were truly alone now, obscured from view for however long they would dare linger. It was a maddening realization, and the ability to breathe eluded him because of it.
“Charles…” The way she uttered his name, the fragile need in her voice, stirred his soul in ways he could not define.
With a profound desire to see her face, to see those eyes shimmering in the darkness, he placed his hands on her hips and slowly spun her to the side until her features caught the faint, incoming light from across the street.
She was devastatingly beautiful.
Laura’s mouth was slightly opened, her hooded gaze fixed onto his mouth as her arms rose to wrap around his neck.
And then, she was kissing him, fully, deeply, as her body all but melted into his.
The moment proved intense, heated in quiet urgency. And he understood just then that she had been hoping and waiting for this.
This realization drove him to near madness and his mind struggled to catch up to what was taking place between them.
Laura might have filled many roles during the span of a day, but right now…
Right now, she was everything he dreamed of at night-an expressive, pliant, and passionate woman, someone who returned his love with equal measure… a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her.
God, help me…
His body stirred in answer to hers and he was fairly certain she would feel it despite the layers of clothing between them.
Of course, he had wanted her before, but those instances seemed to pale in comparison to how much he yearned to have her now. Breathing her name between moist smacks, Charles held to her hips and drew her impossibly close, needing, wanting more.
She hummed in return and placed her hands on either side of his face.
Painfully aware of how fleeting this moment would be, Charles sought to memorize everything-from how she felt, to how she tasted… even the little sounds she was making.
“I wish we could stay,” she whispered breathlessly, mirroring his desire as her brow came to rest against his.
“Me too…”
Save for the sound of their breathing, the room was completely quiet. The air was quite balmy as well.
“You want to know something?” Laura asked quietly after a time. “When I’m alone at night… I miss you like crazy too.”
And with that, she eased away, her gaze flickering downward as a tiny smile came to paint her mouth.
It took a few seconds to snap out of it and follow her, but he did, catching her mirthful expression as he walked past her in the doorway.
Once they were outside, Charles tried to get his heart to slow, barely aware of the sounds coming from the hotel bar across the street.
After that kiss, he desperately needed to clear his fuddled brain and focus on something else. Anything else. “Nervous about tomorrow?” he asked.
“A little.” This gentle admission left her lips as they made their way toward the back of the building.
Casting a sidelong glance at her, Charles gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t be,” he said, fully confident that the townsfolk would embrace the idea of a sports page.
As was his wont, he helped her to hitch Turnip, then watched as she climbed on the wagon and sat down.
He always hated this part.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Definitely,” she answered.
The seconds trickled by and he simply gazed at her, loving how she looked before a twinkling canvas of stars.
Finally, to his chagrin, she had to leave and he watched her go, unable to tear his eyes from the road even long after he had lost sight of her wagon.
This courtship, while the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him, was difficult in some ways.
The nights were incredibly long, almost unbearable at times.
And with her words still fresh in his mind…
When I’m alone at night… I miss you like crazy too.
Tonight would be no different.
~~~
The dream had been lush and rousing, an intimate scene yet to be lived but often imagined.
Lying in bed, a dim veil of starlight across her face, Laura felt the slow pull of wakefulness and wished it away.
In slumber, she had made love to Charles, had shared her bed and the entirety of herself with him. The sensations-while rooted in flight of fancy-had been vivid and wonderful. So much so that even now, as sleep receded, they lingered in a delightful heaviness between her thighs.
Unable to let go of the dream just yet, Laura held on to it for a moment longer, wishing he was here with her now.
In her mind’s eye, she saw those remarkable blue eyes and that smile that never failed to stir the butterflies in her.
She sighed.
Flattening her palm over her heart, she felt the rhythm of her heartbeat-pronounced and frantic beneath the delicate cotton of her nightdress-and thought, What you do to me…
Seconds turned to minutes and she opened her eyes. It was the middle of the night and her room was completely silent.
As her hand journeyed to the pillow beside her, Laura couldn’t help but contemplate her bed.
It was vast-too vast-and had felt that way for a long time now.
Her gaze fixed onto the ceiling, she twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and thought back to the kiss she and Charles had shared mere hours before. It had been nothing short of amazing and her lips still tingled with it.
Reaching out in the dark like that, making her desires known with a low utterance of his name…
It had been somewhat bold of her. But it had felt right.
The trust between them was absolute. And when this fundamental element is combined with unwavering love, it creates openness and a desire to share… well… everything.
If she was honest with herself, her body was still thrumming from that kiss, from her dream as well. She could feel it in the shivers that coursed down her spine, in the memory of his fingertips ghosting along the column of her throat.
There was no other way to put it, she was literally yearning for him.
It had been so long since she had been touched… since she had been made love to.
The idea of luxuriating beneath the soothing press of his body, of touching him and…
Goodness, Laura. You’ve gotta stop this.
It was easier said than done, however, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was awake or not.
If you are… Her bosom swelled on a slow breath and her eyelids fell on a lazy blink. Are you thinking of me?
A second flitted past and she felt silly.
Though romantic, the idea was totally self indulgent and she knew it.
Charles had worked long hours today and was most likely sound asleep right now. In fact, she hoped and prayed that he was. You need the rest.
In truth, she did too.
Her livelihood was in limbo-Larson’s proposed law plan yet to be voted on-and she had papers to sell in the morning.
A part of her was nervous at the prospect of launching her sports page, but mostly she was hopeful.
Charles had said it himself once, “Soft news is more personal. It’s got human angle. All the successful papers do it. People love it.”
And he should know, having witnessed the future and all.
Reassured, Laura fluffed her pillow and settled on her side. After a time, her thoughts began to drift. Her limbs grew heavy and her breathing slowed.
She fell asleep.
Continue to chapter 15