Charles/Laura fic, Chapter 3 'Through Time & Seasons'
To leave everything behind and plunge blindly into a completely different era was more than a little leap of faith. It took courage, for rebuilding a life from scratch was no easy feat.
In order to gather strength from within, Charles looked to an external source, an example of determination, resolution and perseverance-a certain woman editor who dared to defy the times.
Though he had yet to mend fences with her, the mere thought of what Laura had accomplished on her own was enough to give him that little extra shove to keep going.
While Charles did not regret his decision, recognized it as the right path for him, this Missouri was a far cry from its future self. Oh it was a promising time, on the verge of remarkable advancements and evolution, but starting over with no family, no job and practically no money was quite the process-a downright overwhelming one to be truthful.
The few coins he had thought to bring with him had served him well, but they were severely dwindling.
After buying clothes that would suit him, there had been the issue of lodging.
Charles had been well received at the Davis’, but had no desire to exploit their hospitality. After expressing his gratitude, he had told them of his intention to check into the hotel.
Mr. and Mrs. Davis, however, had been adamant. The hotel was fine for the occasional stay, but the costs far outweighed standard room and board.
Well meaning people, Mr. Davis and his wife were not easy to say no to, and further refusing their offer would have been impolite.
Settled on a modest rent, Charles could continue to stay in their spare room until he could get on his feet. But in order to do that, he would need to find work.
Somerville did not have what could be termed a booming economy and available jobs were not abundant. Furthermore, Charles’ lack of experience and knowledge as to the various trades of the day did little to help his situation.
Things were not looking good, and gave him reason to worry as to the possible solution to his financial dilemma. Though he dreaded pondering this, a move to the big city might be required in the end. St. Louis had undoubtedly much more to offer career-wise, maybe even a job in advertising, but a career change had not been what had brought him here in the first place.
Charles had not given up everything he had ever known, simply for a change of pace. He had done so without reservation, not only to save Laura’s life, but because he loved her beyond reason and wanted to start anew, with her by his side.
To contemplate a new beginning without her seemed inconceivable. Therefore, Charles refused to dwell on it, instead would try his best to build from the ground up.
This way of thinking got him through the first two fruitless days of searching, until finally, fate smiled upon him on Wednesday.
Charles had gone from business to business, had inquired as to any available jobs in the area.
It was nearing supper time and he was basically ready to call it quits. As he made his way down the boardwalk, Charles passed in front a little shop. Just like every other building in town, this one was modest-a wooden structure with yellow window trimmings. A painted sign hung above the door, somewhat faded and weathered, it had seen better days.
N. M. Abrams Co.
Just outside was a rather elderly man. His back quite hunched, he stood in front of an advertisement blackboard, chalk in a frail hand.
Assuming the man was writing about a store promotion, Charles paid no mind to the sign at first, almost walked right past it. But in a dumb luck move, timed to perfection, he casually glanced sideways, and saw the ad. Right there, in shaky handwriting, were the words he had been desperately searching for with no success… until now.
Help Wanted
“Excuse me.”
The old man looked up from his sign, and then around, unsure who had spoken. “What’s that?”
Charles took a step forward, pointed toward the ad. “I see you have an opening.”
“That’s right.” The response was rather loud, a sure sign of hard hearing.
“My names Charles Lattimer.” He extended his hand which the older man promptly took. “I just moved here and I’m actually looking for employment.”
For a few seconds, the white haired man seemed to size him up. “Norman Abrams.” He finally said, “Come on inside.”
Charles followed and found himself in a rather cluttered albeit endearing shop-a small space filled with everything from clocks, pocket watches, and a plethora of household appliances fitting to the times. With each step he took, worn floorboards creaked beneath his feet, the scent of softwood filling the air around him.
“You got some experience repairing trinkets, Mr. Lattimer?” Mr. Abrams rounded the edge of the counter and rummaged through the drawers behind it.
Turns out he was asking because the store doubled as a repair shop.
Rather than being a quirk, frugality was a necessity here. Means being limited, people made due with what they had. They took care of their belongings, and when the occasional mishap occurred, they tended to fix rather than buy new. The popular saying, “Use it up. Wear it out. Make it do. Or do without.” rang very true to this time period.
“Yes, I do, sir. I’ve repaired clocks and watches before, many times actually. I also know my way around tiny engines and so forth. I’m a fast learner, Mr. Abrams. I know I can do the work.” Desperate for the job, Charles spoke enthusiastically.
The elder man regarded him for a moment before explaining the situation at the shop. He had been the place’s owner for years, had only recently given over the reins to his son who had injured his hands and was unable to conduct repairs for the time being.
His aged fingers now stiff and hurting, Mr. Abrams had been unable to keep up with the demands while his son recuperated. Therefore, it had been decided that it would be best to hire someone for a few weeks.
“You do understand this is just a temporary position.”
“Yes, and that’s fine. Look, I really need this job. At this point, I’ll take whatever I can get, temporary or not.”
Each second that followed was more agonizing than the last and although Charles had never been a superstitious man, he would have gladly accepted a rabbit’s foot, a four-leaf clover or anything else that might bring him luck.
“Alright. You’re hired. Be here tomorrow at seven thirty sharp.”
Charles grinned, his eyes expressing not only profound relief but hope as well. “Thank you, Mr. Abrams.” He extended his hand for a deal sealing handshake. “I promise you will not regret this.”
~~~
The next two days, though an adjustment, were quite refreshing to Charles. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, as things were going really well at his new job.
Mr. Abrams was quite a colourful character to work for. Hidden beneath his grumpy exterior, was a man with a wicked sense of humour-something Charles liked very much.
His days spent in the small, cluttered backroom of the shop flew by at a surprisingly fast pace. But then again, trinkets had always been Charles’ forte. He remembered how Kristen used to tease him about his model trains, his antique clocks and all the knickknacks he had acquired throughout the years.
Funny, he thought, I’ve lived all these years and they’ve yet to happen…
Oftentimes, his mind would drift to his old life and he would wonder how the people he had known were doing, what changes might have occurred with his departure.
This particular train of thought was a difficult one to logically grasp for his loved ones had yet to be born.
The concept of time was an abstract one. Way too complicated to be fully understood, one had to content with the fact that its mysteries were not meant to be unravelled.
Setting his tools on the workbench, Charles got up from his chair, donned his jacket.
“Off to lunch?” asked Mr. Abrams as he took stock of the inventory.
“Yeah.”
The old man smiled. “Bring some back, will ya?” he teased.
Charles chuckled as he started to leave. “I won’t be long.”
“Wait.” Setting his note pad down, Abrams pointed toward the front of the store. “I got something for ya.”
The elder made his way behind the modest counter, bent down with a grunt and retrieved a couple of coins-two to be exact-which came to a whopping total of twenty cents. “That’s for yesterday.” He said as he handed them over.
“Thank you.” Even though the wages were nowhere near those of the 21st century, Charles’ gratitude was sincere and heartfelt. As was the average, a man would usually make roughly five hundred dollars a year here… a year.
And although that was not nearly enough to allow in indulgences, he figured it was sufficient to survive. Pocketing the precious coins, he left the store, the bell that hung over the door resounding as he opened it.
Though the breeze was slightly warm and pleasant, the sky was somewhat overcast in a nimbostratus blanket of grey.
Charles made his way down the boardwalk, his steps reverberating in soft thumps against the wood. The Davis’ home was situated on the outskirts of town, a good twenty minute walk from the shop-fifteen when he was in a hurry. The route would take him through the very heart of Somerville before continuing on a lazy path through open fields bordered by elm, baldcypress and hickory.
For a small town, the street here was surprisingly abuzz with activity. People on foot merged in a sea of movement amid horse drawn buggies and men riding low in their saddles. Though it was a lively sight, it was nowhere near as chaotic or noisy as 21st century traffic. Charles still marvelled at the atmosphere here. Perhaps he would get used to it to the point of not noticing one of these days, but for now, it was still thrillingly new.
Energized, he kept a brisk pace, smiled at passers-by. As he looked to his left, he saw the barber across the street with its candy-cane sign-post next to the door. That he needed a haircut should have occurred to him then, but the idea was eclipsed by the scene Charles saw next.
Entranced, he slowed then stopped entirely. Considering his situation, perhaps it was cliché to think so, but in that moment he felt as though he’d gone back in time.
His gaze funnelled to one spot, where his eyes and his heart shut out anything and everything except a sight that had toppled him once before.
Laura stood at the blackboard outside the Gazette, writing the latest headlines, looking basically the same as she did when he’d first laid eyes on her. Even her dress was the one she had worn that day.
His mind in an uncontrollable spin, Charles’ pulse quickened.
When she turned and headed back inside, Charles did not know how to feel. Sure he wanted to talk to her, but that was impossible at the moment. He would not force this, could not. And seeing her go about her day, oblivious to his presence, gave him the chance to see her features without hurt.
Come on, Charlie…
He willed his feet to move once more, a task that was much more difficult than met the eye.
Not an easy task at all.
~~~
Though dusk had fallen some time ago, Laura was still at the Gazette. Working into the evening had always been something she had to do from time to time, but ever since Fred had come down with the croup, it had been necessary to pull extra hours, both in the mornings and at night to make the deadlines.
She was exhausted, missed spending time with Mary.
But Laura was the provider in her family, and if she did not want to see her business dwindle, she would have to work doubly hard to keep it going.
So far, she had managed to stay afloat above the workload, but barely so.
With brisk strokes, Laura cleaned the intricate surfaces of the printing machine with an ink stained rag. Her fingers a nice shade of carbon black, she would need to wash her hands thoroughly afterward. It was a good thing she wore dark sleeve coverings, without which her blouses would be ruined in no time.
The task completed, Laura headed to the wash bowl in the corner of the room and started scrubbing away. A few minutes and a layer of soap later, her hands were clean once again. After drying them with a cloth, she absentmindedly smoothed her apron as she made her way toward the desk.
The day’s earnings on her mind, Laura sat down and started counting what she had. It wasn’t much, but enough to meet basic needs. Though she managed to make ends meet, circulation was always a concern, something she desperately wanted to maintain. Her competitor was cut throat, would do anything to see her fail.
Just thinking of that nincompoop was enough to make Laura want to yank her hair out.
Mr. Larson was a unique fellow. A total phoney, he could charm to your face and ridicule behind your back. Definitely not the type of man Laura could respect. Oh her manners never faltered whenever he was around, something that took a great deal of effort to achieve. That she managed to reel in her temper was no small victory, and often only obtained through the knowledge that Mr. Larson was the type of man who would take great satisfaction in seeing her flustered.
Turning her attention back to the issue of improving circulation, Laura’s mind gravitated toward the drawer next to her. Just looking at it was enough to make her insides swirl in conflict.
For the thousandth time it seemed, she debated whether or not to open it and retrieve what was inside.
Oh, Laura. Make up your mind already.
She reached out, started to open it but just as soon changed her mind and slammed it shut again.
As her eyelids fell closed, memories of one of the most cherished days spent with him surfaced.
…
A worker short, Laura had been way behind on the day’s tasks. She had thought there would be no way she would be able to release the next edition on time.
Luckily fate had smiled upon her, had sent a helping hand.
Charles had saved her life, and now sat by the window, hard at work trying to get the hang of type setting.
“Oh I ran your cartoon.” Laura was positively enthused.
Charles looked up from the type set. “Oh, Yes? How’d it go?”
“Everyone’s asking for the next one. It was an excellent idea, thank you. And if you feel inspired, there’s some blank paper right over here.” She patted the white pages next to her typewriter.
…
“Here you go, Mrs. Brown.”
Laura looked up from the last lines of her story to see several sheets of paper extended toward her. She took the pages, flipped through each one, her small smile growing to a full grin. “Thank you so much, they’re perfect.”
“My pleasure.”
When Laura looked up, her eyes fell on Charles’. So blue were they, so soft and kind, she could easily get lost in them.
Again, this magic descended on them, filled the space in between, igniting something deep within.
Earlier that afternoon, she had leaned over him to find an elusive type, had felt his breath on her skin. Her body had responded immediately, had come to life with surprising intensity. It had felt like liquid heat coursing through her veins, gathering and swirling in her core. The sensation had been both sweet and powerful, akin to the swarm of a million butterflies with wings of velvet.
Had it not been for the intrusion, they would have kissed. She was certain of it.
And now, as she looked at him, his wonderful cartoons in hand, she felt that same feeling envelop her.
There was something in his gaze too. Like he wanted to lean down and kiss her, but he never did.
Instead, there was a shift in his demeanor, like he was forcing himself to pull back for some reason.
This saddened her, more than it should really. After all, she had not known him long. But there was something about him that beckoned her, made her lower her defences.
Charles took a step back. “I should really get going if I don’t want to miss the train.”
Laura tried to snap out of the spell she was in. “Right.” Putting the pages in a nearby drawer, she got up from her stool and watched as he retrieved his jacket and hat. Desperate to prolong the time she got to spend with him, she offered. “I’ll walk with you.”
He smiled. “That’d be very kind of you.”
The thought of him leaving filled her with a void. So much so that she misspoke as they left the Gazette. “You could stay the night.” Immediately recognizing her faux pas, she added, “I mean uh, that is to say that the hotel has rooms.” Embarrassed, she laughed quietly as she clasped her hands behind her back.
But he could not stay, he had commitments.
This she understood. His next statement of, “If only I were a hundred years younger.” she did not.
Emboldened, Laura inquired as to his next visit.
He stumbled with his answer, was pretty vague as a matter of fact. But then, he broached the subject that had been twirling around in her mind all day.
Though what he said was not what she wanted to hear.
“I’m not what you’re looking for.”
In a move that surprised even her, Laura countered. “I wouldn’t be so completely sure of that, Mr. Lattimer.”
“What I’m trying to say… is that I might not be back.”
Disappointed and embarrassed Laura looked away. She felt like kicking herself for stepping out onto a branch, only to have it break.
Was she that bad at deciphering signals? Even now, she was certain that the spark between them was not of her imagination. Yet, he withdrew, mysteriously, each and every time they seemed to be stepping in the right direction.
He touched her face then, willed her to look at him once again. There was such tenderness there, his thumb tracing lazy patterns on her cheek.
Laura was confused, but determined to put up a brave front. She smiled, they said their goodbyes and he left.
So much for that…
When she returned to the Gazette, Laura’s gaze fell on the cartoons he’d made for her. She reached for them once more, a faint smile slowly finding light against her regret.
...
Laura had not looked at the cartoons since Charles had confessed to being married.
She hadn’t been able to.
I still can’t, she finally admitted with a sigh.
~~~
The days flew by at the rate of loose pages peeling away in the wind. Charles loved this time of year, how daylight was getting progressively longer. Though there was still quite a ways to go before the solstice, the weather was exceedingly pleasant. Warm, the ambient air was comfortable, unlike the humid and sweltering dog days of summer.
Just like a new pair of shoes that was starting to be broken in, Charles slowly settled into his new life. While he still had a lot to learn, he had gotten the hang of many things, including driving a wagon. And as evening drew nearer on this day in late March, he felt somewhat content. He was on his way back from running errands. Having dropped off some wood over at old lady Black’s, he had picked up a box of preserves and was making his way back to the Davis’.
If there was one thing Charles found most endearing about this place, it was the sense of neighbour helping neighbour. Though old lady Black did not really live a stone’s throw away, she was part of the community and so fit the bill nonetheless. In order to reach her home, he’d had to make his way through the heart of Somerville, then head north towards the surrounding countryside.
His delivery having gone without a hitch, Charles enjoyed the slow ride back. It felt good being out here in the open space-calming and picturesque.
Laura lived on this side of Somerville, her home a little further up the road. He had not been in these parts since he had gone to see her that day, when he had broken her heart.
His thoughts adrift, Charles swayed with the wagon, his hands lazily holding the leather straps as the horse continued on the straight stretch.
Suddenly, the wagon jerked and came to a violent stop. Startled, the tan coloured horse in front fussed and whinnied.
Righting himself in his seat, Charles pulled on the reins. “Whoa.” It took a few moments, but the horse eventually settled down and shook his mane. Baffled as to what had caused the sudden halt, Charles jumped off the wagon.
It didn’t take long for his inspection to bear fruit. With a heavy sigh, he lifted his hat, passed his fingers through his hair, and surveyed the damage. “What the…”
The back wheel had come off and the axle had fallen at an odd angle.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Despite being somewhat exhausted, Laura was delighted. Fred had come back to work and this was the first time in an untold number of days that she would be home before sundown. She had promised Mary they would start a new book tonight and she was very much looking forward to it.
Being a newspaper editor was fulfilling and fine, but Laura also loved being a mother and spending time with her daughter.
She needed the diversion too for Mr. Larson continued to stir up trouble, mainly in his attempt to get a law passed that would ban women from owning businesses.
In fact earlier, that afternoon, she had gotten notice of an upcoming town council meeting on the subject.
Think of something else, Laura.
All it took was a deep cleansing breath as she basked in the early evening sun for her to relax with the sway of the wagon again.
There was a slight breeze, warm, it tickled the side of her face in small gentle puffs.
In front of her, the scenery stretched out in perfection, the sunshine blanketing the surrounding grass in a bright orange glow. On evenings such as this, Laura really enjoyed the ride back to her farm house.
For a brief instant, she thought there was an object up ahead which partially blocked the sunlight. Squinting, Laura lifted her hand so as to shield her eyes from the brightness and when her vision adjusted, an outline became apparent.
There was a wagon stopped smack in the middle of the road with a man standing beside it. From the way he was scratching his head, Laura deduced he had gotten himself into quite a pickle.
With a click of her tongue and a flick of the reins, she urged Turnip to pick up the pace. And being the dependable horse that he was, he did.
“You need help, Sir?”
Though his outline was nothing more than a shadow against the orange sky in the backdrop, Laura could see the shift in his posture as he saw her.
“Seems the wheel decided to give up on me.”
At the sound of that voice, Laura almost froze in place. Even before her eyes fully adjusted, she knew who the man was.
What’s he doing way out here?
“Hi.” Charles spoke sheepishly, hesitantly brought his hand up in a slight wave.
Her heart practically jumping into her throat, she made Turnip come to a full stop slightly to the side of the road.
Charles was nervous, glad to see her, but very nearly shaking in his shoes as he watched her.
Fending off the tremors in her legs, Laura gathered her skirt and stepped off the wagon. Regardless of her personal feelings, he was stranded here and she could not in good conscience pass by without so much as a glance. It would not have been a very neighbourly thing to do. Crouching by the unfortunate looking rear axle, she picked up a rusted out piece of metal and held it so he could see. “Looks like this old bolt gave out.”
“I suppose they don’t keep spares on these things?”
Laura’s expression softened almost to the point of smiling, but she quickly reined that in and got up. Without a word, she made her way to the front where she started to unhitch his horse.
Charles circled the decrepit wagon and joined in her effort. “I’ll just take the horse and ride back into town to get a new one.”
Laura glanced at him, her face impassive. “It’s after six. The blacksmith went home.”
“Oh.”
Unsure of what he should do, Charles scratched his ear, the little wheels in his head turning as though they were stuck in the mud.
Unrelenting in her task, Laura regarded him from the other side of the horse. As upset as she was, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Charles knew nothing of country life and here he was, stranded with no clue as to what to do. She might have been many things toward him, but heartless was not one of them. “We might have something over at the house. Walt keeps all sorts of spare parts and bolts in the barn.”
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. And even once they did, Charles just stood there, looking somewhat dumbstruck.
“You comin’?” Laura looked over her shoulder as she led the horse over to her wagon.
“Yeah.” Charles snapped out of his frozen state and started towards her.
Once the horse was secured to the side, the two climbed on and settled in for the ride up to the house.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Laura spoke softly, her eyes fixed on the road.
Although he did not want to openly stare at her, Charles found that he could not look away. To sit here beside her, he could hardly believe it.
Despite her attempt at forming a wall between them, Laura was not oblivious to his gaze, felt it on her profile. In spite of herself, her heart reacted to it and fluttered wildly in her chest-something her mind rioted against as she could not reconcile her lingering feelings for him.
“What?” she asked, her tone serious.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…” he took a breath. “It’s nice to see you, I’ve really-”
“Don’t.” Laura closed her eyes momentarily before focusing on the road again.
Charles regretted his sudden blurb, he had just been so eager to talk to her. But he recognized the pain in her posture, in her features, and respected it. “Alright.” He turned his attention back towards the slowly moving landscape.
The rhythmic sound of hooves seemed a bit faster than previous and Charles suspected it was because Laura was eager to get this over with. He knew full well she had stopped out of the goodness of her heart and that his presence was difficult for her.
At that very moment, guilt swirled and gathered in his gut.
If only I could fix everything…
But how did one explain marriage vows that in essence no longer applied-marriage vows that belonged to an unwritten era? How would he even begin such a conversation? Charles pondered this and many other things until the horse’s clopping slowed inexplicably.
As he looked sideways, Charles saw Laura pull on the reins.
“Whoa.”
The wagon came to a halt, plunging them into a sudden silence.
Though she did not look directly towards him, Charles could see the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. Patiently, he waited for her to say something.
“So you’re really staying in Somerville.” This was a statement rather than a question.
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes, bowed her head then whispered, “Why?” Before he could answer, she changed her mind. “No wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”
Charles sensed her struggle, something was weighing her down.
“So, your uh…” She wrung the reins in her gloved hands. “Your wife found out?”
Not sure how to respond to that, Charles rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t like that.”
Laura turned then, looked him straight in the eye, asked flatly. “Who else knows?”
Caught off guard, Charles fumbled in his answer.
“Who else knows about what happened between us?” Her voice faltered ever so slightly and her breath hitched.
“No one.”
Laura blinked long and hard. “Good, because if word ever got out…” When she opened her eyes again, her face was filled with heartbreak. “I’m not a home-wrecker, Mr. Lattimer.”
“Whoa, wait.” When she turned away, he pleaded softly. “Look at me.”
She did.
“You’re definitely not a home-wrecker. My wife and I… we went on separate paths long before I met you.” From the look she gave him, it was clear she was not ready or willing to go down that road. Respectfully, he backed off.
After a few seconds of silence, Laura spoke once more. “There is something that I need to say to you. It’s been bothering me, ever since…” She took a steadying breath before she continued. “I shouldn’t have fallen for you so quickly. In fact that was the first time since… Things never should have gone as far as they did and you need to know that I’m not the type of woman that would…” unable to form the words, she hesitated.
“I know you’re not and I never saw you that way.” He spoke softly, his tone a perfect match to the gentleness in his blue eyes. “I never will.”
Through her tears, it was obvious that Laura was grateful for his response. Unwilling to dwell on the subject any longer than necessary, she tried to erase her emotional distress, pointed to the road ahead. “We better get going.”
The rest of the trip was spent in silent contemplation, the two unable to determine what would come of their conversation. While Charles hoped for more progress in their future, Laura hoped this would seal their chapter and allow them to move on.
Hidden deep within a yet to be acknowledged part of her soul, lived regret as well as the lingering feelings she still secretly harboured for him. With something akin to practiced efficiency, Laura brushed those aside, willed them to silence.
When they finally pulled up to the house, she guided the wagon through the scattering flock of chickens in the yard. After coming to stop next to the fence, she and Charles unfastened both horses and brought them to the water trough.
“Mama!” Mary ran from the house, a beaming smile on her face. “Look, Mr. Lattimer is here.” Directly on her heels, though staying behind, was a very displeased looking Mrs. Clark.
If her eyes had been daggers, Charles would have been a dead man. In an attempt to deflect the visual impaling, he turned his attention toward Mary. “Hi kid.”
“You having supper with us?” she asked as her little feet came to a grazing halt.
“Uh, no, I gotta get back. Just came to get a spare part to fix Mr. Davis’ wagon.”
Mary shrugged. “Oh.” Her eyes suddenly alive with enthusiasm, she continued. “Guess what? Ms. Hampton, my teacher, had us draw cartoons as part of English lessons.”
“Really? That’s kinda neat.”
“Yeah it was. We had to come up with different captions for every picture. Wanna see the one I made?”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.” With that, Mary bolted towards the house.
With a gesture toward the barn, Laura said, “Come on, we’ll go see if we have what you need.”
Charles followed suit, stepped through the doors a few steps behind her.
“Walt?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded from behind one of the cattle stalls barely a second before he took a peek from around the corner.
“Mr. Lattimer needs a bolt for the wheel on his wagon. You think we have one around here?”
“Let me see.” As he made his way toward them, Walt lifted his hat and wiped his brow with a dusty shirtsleeve. When he took the old rusted-out and broken bolt from Laura, he turned it a few times between his fingers, inspected it. “Think we might have something, just gimme a sec.”
While Walt went to rummage through what they had, Charles and Laura stood awkwardly next to one another.
With his hands in his pockets, Charles tried to hide his nervousness by balancing his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels-not a very good strategy considering it made his discomfort all the more obvious. Laura, on the other hand, kept from fidgeting by wrapping her shawl more closely around her shoulders.
Yes, they were quite a pair in their awkwardness.
“I got it.” These words were not spoken by Walt who was still busy trying to locate a replacement bolt, but rather by Mary as she ran into the barn, drawing in hand.
Charles smiled. “Let me see.” As he looked at the little scribbles, his eyebrows rose. “I’m impressed, these are really good.”
From the sidelines, Laura looked at the two of them with a small smile laced with sadness. His earlier confession had eroded not only the hope that she had at long last found someone to share her life with, but the hope that Mary would finally get a father figure in her life. The latter is what broke her heart the most because Mary had grown quite fond of him and it was clear that Charles had grown fond of the little girl as well.
Things could have been so perfect, if only…
“Mary, sweet girl, do you have any school work tonight?” Laura asked.
“Just a little bit.”
“Why don’t you go back inside and try to finish before supper.”
“Oh, alright.” Mary sighed dramatically before leaving.
As Laura lost sight of her daughter, she could not help but feel bad for her. Already, she had inquired as to why Mr. Lattimer was not coming around anymore.
As any protective mother would do, Laura had downplayed this, stated simply that he was a busy man.
“She’s a good kid,” Charles finally said.
“She is.”
The two shared a look filled with disappointment.
“Got one.” Walt’s voice broke through the quiet as he walked over carrying a brand new bolt.
“Thank you,” responded Charles as he took hold of the lifesaving piece of metal.
“Walt, would you mind terribly driving Mr. Lattimer back to his wagon? It’s just a little ways down the road.”
“Sure thing.” To Charles, he added, “Just let me fetch a few tools and we’ll be on our way.”
Alone once again, the two of them looked at one another.
“I really appreciate your help tonight.”
“You’re welcome.” Though she did not smile, Laura’s expression was soft. A few more seconds passed, then, “Well, I should go see if mother needs help with supper.”
Charles understood her need to get to the house, nodded and looked at her with gratitude. “I’ll see you around.”
In words that resembled those he had once spoken to her, Laura said, “Have a good life, Mr. Lattimer.” But unlike that day by the train, the regret in the statement was now palpable-made all the more obvious by the sadness in her green eyes.
Charles accepted it for what it was, looked down at his feet before once again glancing toward Laura’s retreating form.
~~~
As soon as Laura walked in the house, she sensed the question in her mother’s stare. In order to stave off any lingering concern, she lifted a hand somewhat defensively and stated, “He was stranded on the road and needed a spare bolt.”
Mrs. Clark merely grunted as she continued with her previous task of mashing the potatoes.
Having dodged a bullet, Laura almost let out a sigh of relief. But knowing full well that could incite her mother into verbalizing her query, she held back.
Thankfully, supper was a quiet affair.
The table cleared, the dishes and the rest of the chores completed, it was now time to start retiring for the evening. As promised, Laura sat next to Mary in her little bed and read to her. After a good night kiss, she left the room and found the kitchen to be empty.
Alone, Laura’s thoughts drifted and she soon found herself out on the porch, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Leaning on the wall next to the door, she listened to the chirp of crickets as the full moon bathed the surrounding scenery in a lovely bluish glow. Above, the sky looked like a twinkling canvas of precious gems-a treasure of such limitless proportions, no one could ever count their numbers.
Were it not for her sadness, this would have been a perfect night.
But it was during quiet times such as these that Laura realized just how lonely she was. To her, it seemed her days as a wife were but a distant dream, almost hazy in recollection.
Not too long ago, such musings always led her to her departed husband, but nowadays brought a very different image to mind-eyes so blue they could rival the azure of snow covered rivers, and a smile so loving it reached deep within and coiled around her heart in a warm embrace.
Closing her eyes, Laura sighed and finally whispered, “When will I get over you, Mr. Lattimer?”
Of course, no answer came forth, only the mysterious nocturnal sounds of this little patch of land she called home-this place, very near and dear to her heart in which she felt the pang of too many lonely nights.
Her next question was not uttered aloud, but rather echoed breathlessly in her mind.
Will I ever?
Okay, I'm not trying to be a tease on purpose. I promise 'the' conversation is coming, sooner rather than later. But there are things that I felt should be established beforehand. Thank you for your patience and most of all, thank you for reading. I will work very hard to release chapter 4 as soon as possible.
continue to chapter 4