Shades Of Grey - Part Eleven
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/76474.html - Part One
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/76667.html - Part Two
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/77032.html - Part Three
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/77449.html - Part Four
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/79511.html - Part Five
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/85005.html - Part Six
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/87110.html - Part Seven
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/88061.html - Part Eight
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/107049.html - Part Nine
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/116418.html - Part Ten
Shades Of Grey - Part Eleven
Emily leaned back from the flower and turned towards his voice. "What if I said I wanted to go back despite your claims? Could I?" She turned to where she could feel the breath of his words close to her.
"Yes. But before you make a decision as big as this -- please think it through thoroughly. If you have doubts about my claims, and I don't blame you if you do -- blind trust is hard to earn, just weigh in that they could very well be true. And I won't be able to save you again." He closed his eyes and pulled away from her. Thomas raked a hand through his unkempt locks while he moved around the edge of flowers to allow her some space.
He needed to make the danger clear to her if she was contemplating leaving against his advice. This was extremely complicated, and every word and conversation with her was a constant walk on eggshells to keep her safe without involving her more than he already had. And for the first time, at the sound of her words, he was beginning to worry if his decision to bring her here would make things worse. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He cared too much for her and her well-being for this to backfire. He would make sure that didn't happen.
Emily nodded, hearing his footsteps move away from her. "Thomas... you said you're no stranger to me, that you've known me my whole life, and you knew where my parents' cabin was. Is Thomas your real name?"
This piqued his interest, and he lofted a brow as he turned on heel to look at her. "Yes."
"Why don't I recognize your voice?" Emily plucked one of the flowers to make a bracelet from it's long stem. Her eyes fixated downward.
"Perhaps it's just been awhile? I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders vacantly. "Maybe you didn't pay much attention to it when we did meet. But that question I can't answer for you." His pale eyes still watched her. Despite his attempts at being casual about her inability to remember who he was -- he couldn't help but feel disappointed that her memories of him were forgotten or buried. Even as he knew that she was at a disadvantage with this situation, he still hoped that it really was just because of the shock and grief that she didn't remember him.
"Will I ever be able to recognize you?" Her eyes were lined with an edge of sadness as they veered off to the flower tied on her wrist. She wanted to remember him. Not just to sate her curiosity, and answer her questions. But because she felt regret in not remembering. He was someone she knew, yet she couldn't recognize his voice, or his personality... why?
"Maybe, I don't know. Recognition isn't the reason why you're here. I can feel your muscles tense with stress, and your heart swell with regret. Please, don't. We're here now, and that's all that matters." He took a few steps towards her cautiously.
"This all feels like a game of Clue. You're Colonel Mustard, and you did it in the library with a lead pipe. Can I go home now?" Emily said in a facetious, albeit teasing tone.
"What gave me away?" He laughed and gave a lopsided grin.
"At least in the game, you got hints. Do I get at least one hint?" Emily's expression seemed that of tenacious child determined in their goal of finding out their Christmas gifts before Christmas.
"Wasn't the pier enough of one Ms. Allen?" Thomas tilted his head hoping that maybe, just maybe, the hint would sink in. But perhaps it was more selfish than anything, his want to have her remember him. He knew that he wasn't making it easier on her, but their relationship in the past wasn't the reason for her being here in the present. He had to keep focus of why she was here, and not give in to his own desire to reminisce with the girl he once loved. And what if she did remember him? What would she remember? Even back then the feelings were never reciprocated, why would now be any different? He had to shake those thoughts and keep to the plan of keeping her out of harms way just one more time.
"I'm sorry, but I don't get it. I give up. I'm never going to figure any of this out." She threw her hands up as her demeanor changed from the light-hearted conversation to her exasperation of the lack of answers that was keeping her away from her family and friends against her better judgment. She wanted to trust him. He had kept his word with every promise so far. Yet, even as he had not told her a single lie, she felt that his slow and vague answers were just as bad -- leaving her suspicious enough to take his answers with a grain of salt until she would find out more.
He watched her move away from him, making no attempt to walk alongside her. He was content to let her walk away from him. This was something he was used to well before their fates crossed paths again. It had been several years since the last time he had seen her walk away from him in the same indignant poise. He remembered thinking she was spoiled then, but even as he thought that -- he remembered he never stopped watching her walk away each time.
"Has anything changed?" She asked startling him from his thought. As if she knew what he was thinking, and somehow remembered him. The truth was she didn't, and she was asking about things back home.
"No. But before you make do with your threat of frustration, it will change. We just need patience; this is only temporary. And when the time is right you will be back home with your friends and family safe and sound. I will be a distant memory, and you will heal. You will aspire to great things, and that is something I am willing to get beaten up for." Thomas' words were genuine and sincere. He wanted her to have every chance he would never have. He wanted her to have everything he could never give her. And with that, he put all his selfish wishes aside. Her future meant everything to him.
"Are we talking days, weeks, years? Thomas, patience is one thing -- never ending is another." Emily's eyes sought to find the area where he was at, trying to pinpoint his spot by the volume of his voice, and by his scent. Thomas had this inviting scent to him. It was sweet with the faint hint of mandarin but with an aquatic undertone that reminded her of the fresh breeze off the ocean. Something that reminded her of somewhere she had been before. Such a unique scent yet she struggled to put the rest of the pieces of the puzzle together.
"As you've noticed, time has no meaning here." He sat down next to her as he leaned up against the trunk of the tree crossing his legs.
"How long have I been here? I mean, how long have I been missing back home?" She questioned as she fanned out the periwinkle skirt along the checkered blanket.
"Over a week at least I would assume. Though I know that's scary for your friends and family; they won't care how long you've been gone when they see you again. And they -will- see you again. I promise." Thomas closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest on the rough bark of the tree.
"I hope you're right." Emily's eyes cast down to her skirt fidgeting with the creases in it. Another promise she would have to endure with blind faith that this stranger from her past expected her to have.
____________________________________________________
"Get your ass up for work Joel." Joel's father barked through his partially opened bedroom door. Joel's father was at least three inches taller than his height of 5'11", and even with Joel's physique his father had a lot more muscle to him. He was the type of father that most of Joel's friends feared. He wasn't a man of many words, and he was rarely the type to be in a good mood. His life revolved around work and dedication to his job. Joel's mother had divorced his father when he was 11 years old. Joel didn't want to move so he agreed to stay with his father.
Joel's father wasn't rich by any means. And upon hearing that Joel had been awarded a sports scholarship to a college that wanted him to play football at their facility, Joel's father couldn't have been more proud. In an uncharacteristic move, Joel's father had promised to buy him a new car on the condition that Joel would work at the shop throughout the summer until he started at college.
And for his part in the deal, up until today, Joel hadn't missed a day of work because he wanted that car. It was a brand new Ford Mustang, and Joel had been wanting a Mustang before he could even drive. He had posters of them on his wall as a child. He had Matchbox toy Mustangs when he was younger and made model Mustangs when he got older that decorated his shelves. It was his screensaver and background on his computer. Joel would go out to dealerships on his days off and check out the latest models selling on the lot. It was his dream car, and because his dad had saved some money for a rainy day all these years, the new Ford Mustang was ironically the rainy day.
"I can't get out of bed. I feel like I'm going to puke." He cringed beneath the covers slightly, knowing he was going to get the worst yelling he's had in a long time. But this was the only way to search for Emily away from the volunteers. He had to try, and he had to sound convincingly enough. Luckily for Joel, because he hadn't missed any other day of work, he had a fighting chance.
"You better be puking up your spleen if you're not going into work Joel. You hear me? There's work to do." His father wasn't going to let it be easy for him. Calling sick into work just wasn't in his vernacular. No matter how sick you were, you showed up to work. Even if your leg was falling off from gangrene, you limped into work.
"I'm not faking Dad. I think I ate something bad last night." Joel crawled out of bed with several "sick" groans, and covered his stomach with his hand as he made his way slowly and "sickly" to the door. His dad was already in the hallway as Joel moved passed him to head for the bathroom. Once in there he put on his best Oscar worthy performance of making puking sounds and dumping water into the toilet.
A slew of muttered cuss words were heard in the hallway before footsteps carried his father down the stairs and to the next boy's room, Joel's younger brother Vince. Vince was 15, and staying over the summer at his father's house like he did every summer and every other weekend. Vince worked at the shop too, and was about to get his wake up call for work.
"Vince get up, we're going to be late." Not another word was said as Joel's father and brother made their way out of the house. He heard the car start in the driveway while staying in the bathroom. He didn't leave the bathroom until he knew the car was gone.
When the coast was clear, Joel picked up his cell phone and called Billy. "Come get me, they're gone." He moved into his bedroom to change his clothes, and get ready to leave when Billy pulled up. About fifteen minutes later two honks signaled Joel to head out the door, and into Billy's truck for today's search of Emily.
To Be Continued...
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/76667.html - Part Two
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/77032.html - Part Three
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/77449.html - Part Four
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/79511.html - Part Five
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/85005.html - Part Six
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/87110.html - Part Seven
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/88061.html - Part Eight
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/107049.html - Part Nine
http://www.livejournal.com/users/trustedfaith/116418.html - Part Ten
Shades Of Grey - Part Eleven
Emily leaned back from the flower and turned towards his voice. "What if I said I wanted to go back despite your claims? Could I?" She turned to where she could feel the breath of his words close to her.
"Yes. But before you make a decision as big as this -- please think it through thoroughly. If you have doubts about my claims, and I don't blame you if you do -- blind trust is hard to earn, just weigh in that they could very well be true. And I won't be able to save you again." He closed his eyes and pulled away from her. Thomas raked a hand through his unkempt locks while he moved around the edge of flowers to allow her some space.
He needed to make the danger clear to her if she was contemplating leaving against his advice. This was extremely complicated, and every word and conversation with her was a constant walk on eggshells to keep her safe without involving her more than he already had. And for the first time, at the sound of her words, he was beginning to worry if his decision to bring her here would make things worse. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He cared too much for her and her well-being for this to backfire. He would make sure that didn't happen.
Emily nodded, hearing his footsteps move away from her. "Thomas... you said you're no stranger to me, that you've known me my whole life, and you knew where my parents' cabin was. Is Thomas your real name?"
This piqued his interest, and he lofted a brow as he turned on heel to look at her. "Yes."
"Why don't I recognize your voice?" Emily plucked one of the flowers to make a bracelet from it's long stem. Her eyes fixated downward.
"Perhaps it's just been awhile? I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders vacantly. "Maybe you didn't pay much attention to it when we did meet. But that question I can't answer for you." His pale eyes still watched her. Despite his attempts at being casual about her inability to remember who he was -- he couldn't help but feel disappointed that her memories of him were forgotten or buried. Even as he knew that she was at a disadvantage with this situation, he still hoped that it really was just because of the shock and grief that she didn't remember him.
"Will I ever be able to recognize you?" Her eyes were lined with an edge of sadness as they veered off to the flower tied on her wrist. She wanted to remember him. Not just to sate her curiosity, and answer her questions. But because she felt regret in not remembering. He was someone she knew, yet she couldn't recognize his voice, or his personality... why?
"Maybe, I don't know. Recognition isn't the reason why you're here. I can feel your muscles tense with stress, and your heart swell with regret. Please, don't. We're here now, and that's all that matters." He took a few steps towards her cautiously.
"This all feels like a game of Clue. You're Colonel Mustard, and you did it in the library with a lead pipe. Can I go home now?" Emily said in a facetious, albeit teasing tone.
"What gave me away?" He laughed and gave a lopsided grin.
"At least in the game, you got hints. Do I get at least one hint?" Emily's expression seemed that of tenacious child determined in their goal of finding out their Christmas gifts before Christmas.
"Wasn't the pier enough of one Ms. Allen?" Thomas tilted his head hoping that maybe, just maybe, the hint would sink in. But perhaps it was more selfish than anything, his want to have her remember him. He knew that he wasn't making it easier on her, but their relationship in the past wasn't the reason for her being here in the present. He had to keep focus of why she was here, and not give in to his own desire to reminisce with the girl he once loved. And what if she did remember him? What would she remember? Even back then the feelings were never reciprocated, why would now be any different? He had to shake those thoughts and keep to the plan of keeping her out of harms way just one more time.
"I'm sorry, but I don't get it. I give up. I'm never going to figure any of this out." She threw her hands up as her demeanor changed from the light-hearted conversation to her exasperation of the lack of answers that was keeping her away from her family and friends against her better judgment. She wanted to trust him. He had kept his word with every promise so far. Yet, even as he had not told her a single lie, she felt that his slow and vague answers were just as bad -- leaving her suspicious enough to take his answers with a grain of salt until she would find out more.
He watched her move away from him, making no attempt to walk alongside her. He was content to let her walk away from him. This was something he was used to well before their fates crossed paths again. It had been several years since the last time he had seen her walk away from him in the same indignant poise. He remembered thinking she was spoiled then, but even as he thought that -- he remembered he never stopped watching her walk away each time.
"Has anything changed?" She asked startling him from his thought. As if she knew what he was thinking, and somehow remembered him. The truth was she didn't, and she was asking about things back home.
"No. But before you make do with your threat of frustration, it will change. We just need patience; this is only temporary. And when the time is right you will be back home with your friends and family safe and sound. I will be a distant memory, and you will heal. You will aspire to great things, and that is something I am willing to get beaten up for." Thomas' words were genuine and sincere. He wanted her to have every chance he would never have. He wanted her to have everything he could never give her. And with that, he put all his selfish wishes aside. Her future meant everything to him.
"Are we talking days, weeks, years? Thomas, patience is one thing -- never ending is another." Emily's eyes sought to find the area where he was at, trying to pinpoint his spot by the volume of his voice, and by his scent. Thomas had this inviting scent to him. It was sweet with the faint hint of mandarin but with an aquatic undertone that reminded her of the fresh breeze off the ocean. Something that reminded her of somewhere she had been before. Such a unique scent yet she struggled to put the rest of the pieces of the puzzle together.
"As you've noticed, time has no meaning here." He sat down next to her as he leaned up against the trunk of the tree crossing his legs.
"How long have I been here? I mean, how long have I been missing back home?" She questioned as she fanned out the periwinkle skirt along the checkered blanket.
"Over a week at least I would assume. Though I know that's scary for your friends and family; they won't care how long you've been gone when they see you again. And they -will- see you again. I promise." Thomas closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest on the rough bark of the tree.
"I hope you're right." Emily's eyes cast down to her skirt fidgeting with the creases in it. Another promise she would have to endure with blind faith that this stranger from her past expected her to have.
____________________________________________________
"Get your ass up for work Joel." Joel's father barked through his partially opened bedroom door. Joel's father was at least three inches taller than his height of 5'11", and even with Joel's physique his father had a lot more muscle to him. He was the type of father that most of Joel's friends feared. He wasn't a man of many words, and he was rarely the type to be in a good mood. His life revolved around work and dedication to his job. Joel's mother had divorced his father when he was 11 years old. Joel didn't want to move so he agreed to stay with his father.
Joel's father wasn't rich by any means. And upon hearing that Joel had been awarded a sports scholarship to a college that wanted him to play football at their facility, Joel's father couldn't have been more proud. In an uncharacteristic move, Joel's father had promised to buy him a new car on the condition that Joel would work at the shop throughout the summer until he started at college.
And for his part in the deal, up until today, Joel hadn't missed a day of work because he wanted that car. It was a brand new Ford Mustang, and Joel had been wanting a Mustang before he could even drive. He had posters of them on his wall as a child. He had Matchbox toy Mustangs when he was younger and made model Mustangs when he got older that decorated his shelves. It was his screensaver and background on his computer. Joel would go out to dealerships on his days off and check out the latest models selling on the lot. It was his dream car, and because his dad had saved some money for a rainy day all these years, the new Ford Mustang was ironically the rainy day.
"I can't get out of bed. I feel like I'm going to puke." He cringed beneath the covers slightly, knowing he was going to get the worst yelling he's had in a long time. But this was the only way to search for Emily away from the volunteers. He had to try, and he had to sound convincingly enough. Luckily for Joel, because he hadn't missed any other day of work, he had a fighting chance.
"You better be puking up your spleen if you're not going into work Joel. You hear me? There's work to do." His father wasn't going to let it be easy for him. Calling sick into work just wasn't in his vernacular. No matter how sick you were, you showed up to work. Even if your leg was falling off from gangrene, you limped into work.
"I'm not faking Dad. I think I ate something bad last night." Joel crawled out of bed with several "sick" groans, and covered his stomach with his hand as he made his way slowly and "sickly" to the door. His dad was already in the hallway as Joel moved passed him to head for the bathroom. Once in there he put on his best Oscar worthy performance of making puking sounds and dumping water into the toilet.
A slew of muttered cuss words were heard in the hallway before footsteps carried his father down the stairs and to the next boy's room, Joel's younger brother Vince. Vince was 15, and staying over the summer at his father's house like he did every summer and every other weekend. Vince worked at the shop too, and was about to get his wake up call for work.
"Vince get up, we're going to be late." Not another word was said as Joel's father and brother made their way out of the house. He heard the car start in the driveway while staying in the bathroom. He didn't leave the bathroom until he knew the car was gone.
When the coast was clear, Joel picked up his cell phone and called Billy. "Come get me, they're gone." He moved into his bedroom to change his clothes, and get ready to leave when Billy pulled up. About fifteen minutes later two honks signaled Joel to head out the door, and into Billy's truck for today's search of Emily.
To Be Continued...