Charles/Laura fic, Chapter 5 'Through Time and Seasons'
Through Time & Seasons, by Missbevcrusher
Pairing: Laura Brown and Charles Lattimer
Rated: [M]
In case you need the links to the previous parts... prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4
Thanks go out to bytesofspencer for the amazing beta. Girl, you cannot imagine how grateful I am for your help. Thank you for indulging me and enduring the constant pokes over IM whenever I hit a snag.
Okay, I will admit it... I am a chronic re-writer. I can't help it and I have to face the truth. This chapter took me over a month to write not because I dallied in the task (I wrote almost everyday and even ignored my flist and IM for close to two weeks in order to finish this), but because I'm... well... slow. lol. I apologize to those of you who might be getting sick of waiting.
Soooo, in order to make it up to y'all for your amazing, amazing patience, I wrote this chapter in a way that is 'very' Charles and Laura focused. I'm also hoping it will be squee worthy at times. Now enough babbling on my part. To the fic!
Standard Disclaimer: Charles Lattimer, Laura Brown, and the wonderful story that is 'For All Time' are property of their respective owners. I am simply writing what I would have loved to see at the end of the movie, and then some.
(It's official... I hate LJ cuts, or rather how easily you can frak it up when you edit a post. Sorry for those who might have seen an entire fic on your flist. It's fixed now. But yeah, LJ cuts are unforgiving.
Chapter 5
Chapter 5 ~ Mending What's Broken
“Thunder and tarnation!” Fred’s outburst resounded throughout the room-the words floating above the noisy thrum of newspaper equipment.
Laura immediately turned from her typewriter, disbelief rather than puzzlement in her startled eyes. The reason for her employee’s verbal express was quite clear-as obvious as the ill-sounding clang that reverberated from the belly of the printing press.
It had finally conked out.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Laura got up from her stool, mouth agape and shoulders hunched in incredulous disappointment.
Fred turned off the press then passed a hand through his white hair. “Highly doubt grease would do the trick this time.” He leaned closer, tried to peer through the various levers, cogs, and rollers. Whatever the problem, it originated from deep within. No question about it, they would need to take the entire thing apart just to get a good look.
“We’re lookin’ at some serious work here, Laura.” Fred exhaled, a long breath that reinforced the fact that they were in quite a pickle.
“You think we could repair this ourselves?” Laura suspected the answer to this question, but felt the need to ask anyway.
When he shook his head, Laura bit the inside of her lower lip. Hands on the small of her back, she started pacing back and forth, thought about her options. “Alright so we’ll get someone to take a look at it.”
“How’s ‘bout old man Abrams? When Larson’s press ran into trouble a few years back, he and his son fixed it right up.”
With a nod, Laura answered, “Good thinking. I’ll run over there right now, see if he can come by today.”
“In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get the first set of bolts off this thing. Would save us some time for when Abrams gets here.”
As she retrieved her hat, shawl, and gloves, Laura looked over her shoulder. “I won’t be long.” She then opened the door and noted how it scraped against the floorboards.
Yet another thing that needs fixing…
At least that could wait.
With a figurative black cloud hanging overhead, Laura made her way outside, down the steps and made a right.
This is a nightmare.
In truth, it was a catastrophe. This was a Wednesday-the middle of the news week-definitely not the best time for a press to conk out.
Although Laura was a calm person by nature, this latest stumbling block was almost too much. Feeling the first hints of a headache, she took a calming breath and wrapped her shawl more closely around her shoulders.
Walking briskly, she made good time in reaching Abram’s store. Praying they weren’t already swamped with repairs, Laura went on inside.
At first glance, the store seemed empty, but the hollow thud followed by a pained, “Ow” told her someone was indeed manning the counter.
With a wince, Laura made her way over, asked, “Mr. Abrams? You alright?” Getting up on her tip toes, she tried to peer behind countertop.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise for the person who was crouching with a hand over his head was not Mr. Abrams. “Charles,” Laura involuntarily blurted his name, immediately tried to correct herself. “Uh, Mr. Lattimer.”
At the sound of her voice, Charles looked up and felt as though his heart would burst from his chest. Throbbing pain all but forgotten, he got up, his eyes gazing into hers. “Lau-Mrs. Brown.” He spoke in a low voice laced with astonishment. “Hi.”
The moment hung there, filled with a familiar tension.
Neither spoke, neither moved.
Laura was most taken aback by her surprised reaction for she had known that Charles worked here. But with her focus entirely on her problems at the Gazette, the thought had not even entered her mind as she had made her way over.
Caught wholly unprepared, she simply stood there-her heart fluttering wildly as her knees trembled beneath her skirt.
With a mental nudge, Laura willed herself to speak. “The printing press, it um, it broke.” The clumsiness of her words made her cringe inwardly.
Embarrassed at having been caught off guard, Laura wished for the floorboards to open up and swallow her whole. It would certainly beat standing there, blushing something fierce. Oh she felt the heat in her cheeks, her neck and chest, knew full well she looked like a tomato.
Charles too felt a similar trepidation toward his words, or lack thereof. He was so knocked for six that he found himself completely tongue tied.
Come on you moron, of course she’s here to get something fixed. Did you really think she came here to see you?
“It broke.” He simply echoed with a slow nod.
Now he really felt like a blithering idiot.
“Yes,” Laura pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and continued, “We had some problems last week so Fred greased the entire thing. It’d seemed to have done the trick too but today…” She threw her hands up. “It just made this darn awful noise and frankly we don’t know what to do with it.”
“Alright, let me go get Mr. Abrams.”
“Thank you.” While Charles went to get his boss, Laura waited, relieved to find she had gained some measure of control over herself.
With mouths to feed and an employee to pay, there was no time to think about matters of the heart. The Gazette needed to be up and running, or else there would be no money coming in.
~~~
The knowledge that Charles and Mr. Abrams would be over shortly allowed Laura to breathe a little easier. Reassured, she felt light, walked down the boardwalk with a little extra bounce in her step.
Though she would remain cautious in her optimism, Laura saw a possible silver lining ahead, was uplifted by it.
By the time she made it back, Fred was already well on his way to removing one of the larger pieces-the one comprised of two rollers between which the pages were fed.
While a broken press meant a halt in operations, it did not mean there was nothing to do. Laura took her customary spot in front of the typewriter and started working on finalizing one of the stories she had been working on.
This way, they would be ready to produce the new edition as soon as the press was fixed. With any luck, the repairs would go smoothly. At least, Laura hoped and prayed they would.
She hadn’t been to task twenty minutes when the door opened, revealing Charles and Mr Abrams.
“Thank you for getting here so quickly.” Laura smiled as she rose to greet them.
Abrams pointed to Charles. “All thanks should go to my helper here. He packed up all the tools before I could blink.” His features warm, the older man’s shoulders rose and fell rapidly as he chuckled. “A lot more efficient than this old codger, I tell ya.”
Knowing Charles’ willingness to offer assistance, Laura had no doubt he was a huge help to the elder man. Warmed by this, she chanced a look in his direction and met his gaze. The way their eyes met reminded her of better times. And while this made her feel somewhat guilty, it also stirred a deep nostalgia.
Intent on shedding her wistful musings, Laura got on with business and gestured to her left. “Well, there she is gentlemen. I hope you can fix her.”
Both men removed their hats and jackets, set them on hooks then joined the typesetter who was still busy removing bolts.
“So this is the press that’s been givin’ ya trouble,” said Abrams as he gave it a quick once-over.
“Can’t say she didn’t have a good run. I’ve never had trouble with her up until recently,” added Laura, arms crossed as she watched.
“We’ll get her up and runnin’ in no time.” To Charles, Abrams continued. “Won’t we, Mr. Lattimer?”
“We’ll do our best,” was his reply.
Laura looked to Charles, regarded him for a moment and noted the warmth in his features. Whatever else she might be feeling, she was grateful he was here, thankful for his help. After a single nod, she rubbed her hands together and exhaled. “Well then… I’ll let you fellas get to work. Fred here will fill you in on what he’s done so far.”
Soon, the room settled in a focused and productive atmosphere as everyone dug in to their respective tasks.
After being brought up to speed, Charles and his boss went about examining and dismantling the press. Not wanting to get in their hair, Fred gave them room to work and went to retrieve the list of ads they would print the following week.
Laura, for her part, remained at her typewriter, working on the Gazette’s next headlines. She typed with practiced speed and efficiency, making good progress. At times, her curiosity would get the best of her, would make her peer over her shoulder.
The unique collaboration between Mr. Abrams and his protégé was an interesting sight. While the elder man provided the knowledge, Charles provided able hands to carry out the task.
It was unusual but surprisingly efficient.
Seeing this new side of Charles was somewhat of an eye opener.
For a man who normally worked in advertising, he had taken to fixing things quite rapidly. Laura had not pegged him as the handy type, rather had seen him as a gentle artist.
Turns out he was both.
There’s so much that I don’t know about you.
From the moment Laura had laid eyes on him, Charles had been nothing short of an enigma. Intrigued, she had longed to peel away the layers that would unravel the mystery of who he was. But alas, the foundation of their relationship had crumbled before she had had a chance to know more.
And I never will.
Perhaps if he had been more transparent, or better yet if she had not deluded herself, they would not have found themselves in the mess they now were. If she had known he was married from the start…
Why am I still thinking about this? It’s too late anyway.
Laura struck that last thought.
What am I saying, too late? It’s not as if we ever had a chance in the first place.
As slender fingers hit the keys in a rapid succession of clacks, Laura’s musings gave way to written words-the article that would hopefully save her from this fruitless train of thought.
…
Time fluttered by, steadily, rhythmically, measured by the soft ticking of the clock that hung on the wall. Eventually, early afternoon eased into late, meaning school would be out shortly.
Expecting Mary to come scudding in any second, Laura would glance every so often toward the door. But ultimately, she heard rather than saw her daughter arrive-the hasty tempo of feet coming up the steps unmistakeable.
The door opened, and sure enough there she was.
“Hello my sweet girl. How was school?” Laura rose from where she sat.
With a big toothy smile, Mary replied, “Was good.” When the door dragged against the floorboards, the girl put her shoulder against it and planted her feet as she pushed.
Laura grimaced as she made her way over. “We’re going to have to fix that.”
Noticing Mr. Abrams by the dismantled press, the girl frowned and looked back to her mother. “The press broken?”
“Yes, but we’re trying to get her up and running.”
“Mr. Lattimer!” Mary’s face suddenly lit up as she saw him pop up from behind the press, rag in hand as he wiped his fingers.
“Hey kid.” Charles smiled.
“I didn’t know you were a repairman.”
Before Charles could respond, Mr. Abrams looked up from a part he was inspecting, a jovial expression on his face. “And he’s a pretty good one too-learning the ropes real fast.”
Slightly embarrassed, Charles chuckled and shook his head.
“The whole school was talking about your cartoon today.” Mary was positively enthused as she said this.
“Oh yeah?”
“Everybody thought it was funny. We all loved it.”
Charles looked to Laura then, his eyes meeting hers, connecting. Their shared look though subtle and guarded, affected him deeply, sent his heart in a wild tumble.
It was like the park’s reopening all over again, the way she held his gaze and maintained it.
Lost in conflicting emotions, adrift in the green sea of her eyes, Charles wondered how it was possible for a color to devastate and charm at the same time. It made no sense, yet here he was-his heart in turmoil over a single stare.
Laura too was caught, suspended in a visual funnel that was both unintentional and unavoidable. Inwardly, she cursed her attraction toward him, wanted to look away. But something within her prevented her from doing so.
“Someday I’ll learn to draw like that.” Mary’s voice broke through the spell, made Laura blink twice before snapping out of it.
“Ready to go home?” she asked, touching her daughter’s cheek.
“Yeah.”
With a gentle push, Laura guided Mary toward the door. “Why don’t you go wait on the wagon, I’ll be out in a second.”
“Alright.”
As she went to retrieve her things, Laura looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be back shortly. You gentlemen need anything?”
While Charles indicated he was fine with a polite wave of the hand, Mr. Abrams voiced his answer. “Nah, but thank you kindly.”
“Alright,” Laura’s mouth curved into a small smile, her eyes meeting Charles’ one more time. Her light expression then faded to one of bittersweet reminiscence until she lowered her gaze and started to turn. “I’ll be back soon.”
Standing there as she left, Charles did not know exactly how to feel. But feel he did, many things-an assortment of emotions ranging from cautious enthusiasm to sober thoughtfulness.
“Nope, this ain’t it.” Oblivious to his employee’s musings, Mr. Abrams set the piece he had been inspecting to the side. “Guess the problem lies elsewhere. Ready for another round of detective work, Mr. Lattimer?”
Eyes still glued to the door, Charles replied. “Yeah.”
~~~
“After supper, I’ll have to head back. See how the repairs are going.” Laura folded her dinner napkin and set it on her lap.
“You think the press will be fixed by tonight?” Mrs. Clark looked over the rim of her glasses, a good spoonful of potatoes halfway from her plate.
“I hope so.”
Except for the occasional clinking of silverware on porcelain, the room settled into a lengthy silence as the family ate.
From her seat, Mrs. Clark pondered her daughter.
Laura seemed distracted. But then again, that was understandable. There were so many worrisome issues to deal with-First Mr. Larson and now a broken printing press.
But knowing Laura as well as she did, Mrs. Clark sensed there was more to her pensive state, something self-directed.
“Guess who’s helping Mr. Abrams with the repairs.” Mary set the beige pitcher on the table and looked to her grandmother.
“Who’s that, child?”
“Mr. Lattimer.”
Mrs. Clark cast a sideways glance toward her daughter.
Mystery solved.
With forced casualness, Laura proceeded to cut the meat on her plate. “He’s filling in for Mr. Abrams’ son.”
Quiet once again filled the home. But it was not to last as Mrs. Clark felt the need to add her grain of salt.
“One has to wonder what that man’s still doing in Somerville.” Though she could not be certain, Mrs. Clark suspected he might be hanging around because of Laura-a notion she wasn’t too keen on. “I can’t imagine this new job being better than the one he had in St. Louis.”
From across the table, Laura could see right through her mother’s probing stare. It not only made her uneasy, but it irked her too. Wanting an out from this particular thread in conversation, she shrugged. “I have no idea why he decided to stay.”
If Laura was one thing, it was subtle. Skilled in the art of body language, even the smallest gesture could speak volumes. For instance, a single bite-on the outside it was simple, mundane even-but in this case, it left little doubt that the subject was no longer open to discussion.
Mrs. Clark yielded, albeit reluctantly and went about finishing her meal.
Afterward, as the three of them cleaned up, the older woman stewed over her misgivings.
I may be many things, but dense is not one of them.
While it had never been discussed, Mrs. Clark knew Laura had gotten her heart broken. Putting two and two together hadn’t been all that difficult. And although Mr. Lattimer had perfectly legitimate reasons for being at the Gazette, she did not like it, not one bit.
What made things worse, was the fact that Laura planned to go back there. Oh she was no longer a child, but that did not mean that it would stop her from worrying.
Once Mary had gone from the room, Mrs. Clark finally spoke up though did not stop putting away the dishes. “Suppose it’ll be dark by the time you get back.”
“I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”
“Wandering the road in the dark of night…” With a shake of her head, the older woman grunted her disapproval.
Laura spoke in a voice that was soft yet firm. “I don’t have time to get into this right now. The paper is my responsibility. I have to be there.” With a sigh, she went to get her shawl. “Mary! I’ll be leaving now.”
The girl emerged from her bedroom and went to give her mother a hug.
“You be good and listen to your grandma.”
“I will.”
Knowing Mary would be asleep by the time she came back, Laura kissed her goodnight before making her way out the door.
As she walked toward the wagon, she heard her daughter call after her.
“Good luck!”
A small smile gracing her lips, Laura briefly turned without breaking pace. “Thank you, sweet girl!”
I’m going to need it.
~~~
“Oh wait a minute, see that there?” Abrams squinted as he pointed to a gear.
“Uh-huh.” Charles reached for it, fumbled awkwardly for a minute or two before he could remove it. “Looks pretty beat up.” He held it at eye level, revealing a series of broken teeth.
“I think we’ve just found the problem.” The older man pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose then grabbed the part and turned it over a few times to get a better look. “Might have some of these over at the shop.”
“Want me to go?”
Abrams laughed. “Nah, it’s alright. You’d never be able to find ‘em anyway. I’m not even sure I remember where they are. Besides, there should be another one just like it on the other side of the press. Chances are if this one is in bad shape, the other will be too. So just start disassembling the same way we did this side.”
Charles nodded. “Sure thing.”
With a grunt, Abrams got up and headed for the door, gear in hand.
A profound sense of relief settled on Charles as he watched the older man leave. He exhaled as if he’d been holding a breath all this time. In truth, he had been quite nervous about working on this press. Being such a complicated piece of equipment, he had feared failing in the task.
Not only would it have ruined the rest of the work week here at the Gazette, but it would have caused Laura much undeserved strain.
Oh they weren’t out of the woods just yet. There was another side to dismantle and then there would be replacing the gears and reassembling the press. But at least they were one step closer to their goal.
Until they reached it however, Charles would not allow himself to relax completely-would do so only once the press was set to print the latest headlines.
~~~
By the time Laura made her way back to town, the sun had dipped further toward the horizon. Soon it would be but a curve above the tree line, the low angle of its scarlet-yellow rays elongating the shadows, making them so drawn out as to seem infinite.
As she started down Somerville’s main street, Laura’s thoughts were jumbled-filled with professional worries as well as personal conflict. She tried to sort through these musings and discard anything that had to do with Charles Lattimer. Alas, it was a losing battle. Inadvertently, thoughts of him kept seeping in.
Laura decided to attribute this to the fact that she had spent the majority of the day in the same room with him, a notion far more acceptable than her own emotional weaknesses.
Most of the businesses closed for the day, the heart of town was much quieter than it had been before supper. The only place that was still bustling with activity was the hotel directly facing the Gazette. At this time of day, most of the patrons seen about the entrance were men-no doubt making their way to the bar.
Laura paid them no mind, simply guided her horse past the building and turned in the side street that led behind the Gazette.
In a series of slow clops, Turnip headed toward his usual spot by the water trough.
Once the wagon had come to a halt, Laura set the brake, got down from her seat and proceeded to unhitch and secure the horse to a post.
Eager to find out how the repairs were going, she started toward the wooden boardwalk squeezed between the Gazette and the barber shop. So brisk was her pace that she nearly bumped into Fred as she rounded the corner. “Oh!”
Startled, she put a hand to her chest and laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be out here.”
“Just haulin’ this inside.” He answered as he started dragging the blackboard toward the steps.
Since wind could easily knock it over, they had gotten into the habit of bringing it inside at night.
“Any progress?” she asked as she moved to help him.
“As a matter of fact, yes. They found a couple broken gears. Think that once they put the new ones in, the print will be as good as new.”
With an obvious sigh of relief, Laura let some of the tension fall away from her posture. “That’s great news.”
“Certainly is.”
Once the two had reached the third step, Laura contemplated her employee for a moment and came to a decision. “You know, we’ve had a long day, done pretty much all we could. Why don’t you call it a night? I can handle things over here.”
Fred was about to protest, but knew full well that Laura would stick around even if he volunteered to stay. “You sure?”
“Yes, now go home.” Her eyes twinkled playfully.
If Laura Brown was one thing, it was tenacious, her sense of responsibility notable. Fred couldn’t help but admire that.
“Alright.” He agreed but just as soon added, “But since tomorrow’s gonna be a full day, I’ll be comin’ in early.”
“Thanks Fred.”
Once inside, he went to gather his jacket and his hat while his boss proceeded to her desk.
When Laura looked toward the press, she immediately spotted Charles but no Mr. Abrams.
“See ya tomorrow.” As soon as Fred uttered those words, Laura immediately recognized her faux pas, turned to look at her employee’s retreating form as trepidation filled her.
She and Charles would be alone.
Too late. There was nothing she could do, no way out of this predicament. Asking him to stay now would not only seem strange but it could betray the hidden story between herself and Charles.
And so Laura tried to quiet the loud thrumming in her chest, turned to the man who, even now, managed to make her insides quiver.
No need to panic. This is no different than this afternoon.
After a calming breath, she opened her mouth to speak, hoped to sound relatively normal when she asked, “Where’s Mr. Abrams?”
Before he could answer, Charles accidentally dropped the bolt he had been unscrewing. It hit the floor and bounced off in Laura’s direction, finally coming to a stop by her black leather boot.
Instinctively, Laura bent down to retrieve it, looked up when she handed it over. If seeing him so close was not enough to topple her, the light brush of his hand against hers finished the job.
For the thousandth time, she cursed the affect he had on her. Why couldn’t good sense win out over her heart?
Laura had no business having feelings for him, yet she did. Even now, after everything that had happened, her pulse still sped up when near him.
His eyes, so blue, so tender. In them Laura saw a good man, saw things that were a complete contradiction to what reason dictated.
As he looked at her, he spoke softly. “Thank you.”
With effort, Laura pried her gaze from his, nodded once in lieu of replying, then got up. She needed to put distance between them and regain some control over herself.
Charles recognized this and decided it would be best to simply answer her previous query. “He went to get some replacement parts over at the shop.”
“I see.” Laura removed her hat and shawl, went to hang them up. “Fred told me you’ve found the problem.”
“Yeah.” A hopeful smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, Charles continued, “At least, we think so.”
“That’s good.” Laura returned an obliged expression before lowering her gaze and absent-mindedly smoothed her skirt. With a hint of awkwardness, she gestured toward her typewriter. “Well then I should…”
“Of course.” Charles understood her need to get back to work, figured he should get on with his task as well.
Unable to resist, he would cast a glance in Laura’s direction every now and then.
Here they were, in the same room, yet miles away from one another-a very lonely place to be.
God, I miss her.
Charles not only missed her company, but he missed their talks, her keen intelligence and easy laughter. Laura was a complex person, a wonderfully complete, multi-layered individual. It was something he had realized very early on, mere minutes after first laying eyes on her.
…
Spellbound and intrigued, Charles regarded the reserved woman standing by the printing press. “Can I maybe take you to lunch, Miss…”
At this, she turned, somewhat taken aback. “Brown, Mrs. Laura Brown, no. Thank you, no. We take lunch at home.”
“Invite him to lunch, Mama.” The little girl, the one he’d teasingly referred to as a bossy kid, leaned on the rail near the door, confidently coaxing her mother into relenting.
“Why don’t you go outside and play, Mary?”
With an exaggerated sigh, she turned around and started to leave. “Alright.”
From this little exchange, he could tell those two had a close mother-daughter relationship. It was lighter than what one would expect for this day and age. Although clearly well behaved toward her mother, Mary was obviously not afraid to speak her mind or tease. It was endearing to see.
Not only that, but it had shattered the unapproachable image the newspaper editor had tried to project.
And she knew it too.
Slightly embarrassed, the beautiful Mrs. Brown averted her gaze and laughed. “Charles Lattimer you say?”
“Uh-uh.”
With pursed lips, she debated her next words. “So at lunch we would discuss…” she let the statement trail so as to get him to state his intentions.
“The Gazette of course.”
A second or two trickled by before she continued. “Well then Mr. Lattimer, you’re welcome to join us. We leave in five minutes.”
…
Things had seemed so simple that day. If only they could be again.
Charles longed for those lost moments, so pleasant had they been. Mulling over their current situation, he teetered on the edge of initiating a conversation, really wanted to. But he didn’t, figured this was not the best time considering Laura’s worries and Mr. Abram’s imminent arrival.
As insufficient as they felt, stolen glances would have to do.
Life being what it is-unpredictable and peculiar-it can bestow gifts unto those who least expect it. In his acceptance, Charles was granted just such an offering, a previously unknown detail about Laura. Oh it was small but no less profound because it was hers.
When revising a newly written article, Laura would quietly mouth the words in faint, barely there whispers. Her concentration seeming absolute, Charles wondered if she even realized she was reading aloud.
Watching her so focused was a beautiful sight, her quiet utterance an enchanting sound. Conceived from within, the faded words floating about the room inspired, made Charles feel privileged for bearing witness.
“Being a woman editor is not easy. It comes with a set of challenges that are sometimes difficult to overcome. But throughout the years, as I’ve faced different obstacles, I’ve found not only strength I didn’t know I possessed, but a great deal of fulfillment as well…”
As he slowly grasped just what she was writing, Charles closed his eyes momentarily, a small smile finding light on his lips.
It was the editorial she had been afraid to write.
I’m proud of you, Laura.
Not wanting to further intrude, Charles resumed his task and made good headway. After several minutes of carefully removing bolts, he was done. Then, as if on cue, Mr. Abrams walked in, a triumphant look on his face
“You’re in luck, Mrs. Brown.” The old man made his way over carrying two brand new gears. “Hopefully these’ll do the trick.”
~~~
As dusk faded to total darkness, the Gazette remained one of the few sources of light on Main Street.
By oil lamp, a printing press was gradually becoming whole again. In fact, it was almost fully assembled.
At her desk, Laura went over her editorial one last time.
This’ll do.
After countless discarded drafts, she had finally settled on what she wanted to say. Instead of simply writing about women’s professional struggles in general, she decided to give a face to the issue-herself.
This way, she would not be pointing fingers but rather making her case by sharing her story.
It was a gamble she hoped would shift the tide of favour, even if only a little.
Now if we could only get this press to work.
“There.” Abrams broke through Laura’s thoughts, enthusiasm lacing his voice. “Last bolt.”
The next several moments seemed interminable to Laura. All she wanted was for the repairs to have been successful. Any other concern or challenge could wait.
“Here goes,” said the old man.
At first bathed in silence, the room soon became filled with the thunderous rumble of the printing press. Even though it was not a delicate sound, it was music to Laura’s ears.
After it was clear all was in working order, the men exchanged hand shakes, pats on the backs, as well as huge grins.
When Charles turned to Laura and saw her extended hand, he was taken aback by the joy in her eyes. It was real, unfiltered and free of conflict. Her features were alive, her mouth curved into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
“Thank you, Mr. Lattimer.”
Charles wanted to respond, to say, “You’re welcome,” or something, anything. But he was lost in the flicker in her gaze and could not speak. At least he managed a nod-polite enough but nowhere near what he wanted to express. Come on, Charlie. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late-Laura had moved on to thank Mr. Abrams.
Embarrassed as well as irritated with himself for this small but frustrating blunder, Charles passed a hand through his hair before he went to put the tools away.
~~~
The night air was cool but pleasant. It was still, almost silent except for the soft chirping of crickets in the distance. The moon was out; full, it bathed the slumbering town in a bluish hue. It was late, but not terribly so-around eleven o’clock.
So as to give Laura a chance to lock up as soon as possible, Charles wasted no time in hauling the toolboxes out back. One of them had no lid, simply had a handle up top. As he looked at the contents by lantern one last time, a frown started to mar his forehead.
“Somethin’ wrong, son?” Abrams asked as he climbed on the wagon with effort.
Before answering, Charles quickly opened the second tool box and peered inside. “I forgot to pack something.” Not wanting to keep Laura any longer than necessary, he sprinted back the way he came, climbed the front steps and knocked lightly before opening the door.
Leaning toward an oil lamp, her hand on the small knob to the side, it was clear she had been about to douse the lighting. Though her face was welcoming, there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze.
Still standing outside, he spoke from the threshold. “Sorry, I think I forgot something.”
“Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
While Charles went to look for the elusive object, Laura donned her hat, shawl, and gloves.
“Here it is.”
Laura watched him as he pocketed a small wrench. “Got everything?”
“Yup, that was it.”
With a nod, she went about dousing the light then headed outside along with Charles.
Locking up, Laura noted that he was standing at the bottom of the steps, clearly waiting for her. Rooted in place, there was no time to catalogue what she felt. But feel she did. Finally, with butterflies in her stomach, she descended the steps.
With his hands in his pockets, Charles seemed almost tentative. Laura knew this was not shyness but rather his way of being cautious around her. Something was on his mind.
Normally, Laura would have panicked at such a prospect, but not tonight, not after today. Why? She did not know.
“I just uh…” Gauging his words, he paused-his foot dragging in the dirt. “Wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow.”
In the darkness, Laura could discern a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Clearly, he was referring to the town meeting and she suspected he was just as worried as she was.
“Thank you.” She could easily have left the conversation there, logically should have considering. But she felt the need to add, “For everything.”
Gentle eyes met hers once more in a moment suspended in time. One second, then two followed by a soft, “Anytime.”
Okay so I was so eager to write until this story got somewhere that I failed to realize that this chapter would not fit in one post. Soooo, y'all are getting another chapter.
Continue to chapter 6.