Charles/Laura fic, Chapter 1 'Through Time and Seasons'
Through Time & Seasons, by Missbevcrusher
Pairing: Laura Brown and Charles Lattimer
Rated [M]
Please note that although this is chapter 1, it was preceded by a prologue which can be found here :)
Thanks go out to
bytesofspencer for the wonderful beta. I hope you know just how helpful you have been. *hugs*
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.
Chapter 1 ~ Shaken
The park was alive, filled with people. Vivid splashes of red, white, and blue could be seen throughout the crowd in the form of tiny flags-this was a presidential rally alright. It was in full swing, the weather perfect for the event.
A band was playing, the lively sound of their music mixed with joyous voices. Seldom did Somerville see such excitement. The townsfolk were energized by the event, completely oblivious to the fact that this beautiful afternoon was about to be marred by tragedy.
Unlike the citizens, Charles had knowledge of the future, and if he didn’t warn them, people would die, Laura would die…
A beautiful life would be cut short, ripping mother from child-a little girl who had already lost her father.
I can’t let that happen.
Ever since he had learned of the explosion, Charles had been haunted by the image of Laura’s broken body, her lifeless face in repose. He couldn’t lose her this way, couldn’t lose her at all.
In the short time he’d known her, she’d become the center of his universe. How? Why? He didn’t know, and probably never would. Somehow engrained in his subconscious, he’d seen her in his mind’s eye, had drawn her with amazing precision before ever meeting her.
It was as if fate had made a mistake by inadvertently depositing two destined souls in different time periods. And like any blunder, it had to be fixed-the solution here being a mysterious train ride to the past. It had taken a few tries, a few twists and turns along the way, but the correct outcome was now within reach.
That was if Charles wasn’t too late.
To the townsfolk, he must have looked odd. Dressed in funny clothes-jeans, a blue t-shirt with a matching plaid shirt over it-he stood out like a sore thumb, and the fact that he was running like a lunatic did little to help his case.
But Charles didn’t care what people thought, he knew what was about to happen and needed to act. Frenetically, he tore through the crowd, at times having to shove his way past unmoving rally-goers. Ignoring the scrutinizing looks, he yelled, “Clear the park! Move!”
The fact that no one was moving only added fuel to his desperation. “Move people, there’s going to be an explosion! Get out of the park!”
He looked every which way, his heart sinking deeper with every passing second. He could not find her. Amid his urgent warnings, he called out her name, over and over again.
Nothing.
God, where is she?
Finally, Charles spotted Mary sitting on a bench with some of her friends. With hurried steps, he made his way over, picked her up in an instant.
“What’s going on?” The seven year old looked at him, a mixture of confusion and fear in her eyes.
Charles did not answer, instead looked at the other little girls who now stood wide eyed in alarm. “Run kids, run. Run!” In a panic, he shooed them away. “Go! Get out of here! Go!” Turning his attention to Mary, he softened his tone. “Where’s your mother?”
Unable to wrap her mind around what was going on, the usually talkative little girl was at a loss for words.
With a silent and dreadful countdown resounding in his head, he lifted her up a bit higher, looked directly into her frozen stare. “Where is your mother?!”
On the verge of tears, she pointed toward the gazebo. “She’s over there!”
When Charles turned, his heart practically jumped out of his chest. Laura was standing on the wooden structure, interviewing the former governor. As relieved as he was to see her, fear gripped him still. He had to warn her.
As he headed toward the gazebo, he alerted nearby rally-goers one last time before calling out to the woman he wanted to save above all others.
Laura was pleased, her current mood in stark contrast to the heaviness of heart she’d been carrying. It had taken resourcefulness and clever timing, but she had procured her interview after all.
She’d sought out Mr. McKinley, had introduced herself, asking for a few moments of his time-a request the presidential hopeful had kindly obliged.
All day, she had tried to keep thoughts of Charles Lattimer at bay-a pretty difficult task considering he’d been the one who had encouraged her to go after this interview.
Luckily, her professional focus and the satisfaction from having attained her goal served to ward off the melancholy in her soul. She was grateful for that, even knowing full well that this respite would not last. Unguarded, her mind would eventually wander, allowing him inside once more. Though not now-not while she questioned the subject of her story.
“Laura!”
So concentrated was she that her name failed to register. Oblivious, she continued scribbling McKinley’s statements.
“Laura!”
This time, she heard, spun around. Her puzzlement turned to concern when she spotted Charles running toward her in a panic, Mary in arm. What’s he doing?
Excusing herself, Laura made her way toward him, intent on finding out why her daughter seemed so frightened. “What are you doing? Put her down.”
Their exchange was a confused melee of words and emotions-one person in a panic while the other was besieged with concern, anger, and confusion.
“Laura, listen.”
“No!” she answered as she reached for her daughter.
“Listen to me.” Blue eyes sought to reach green, wild with worry.
Failing to understand his urgency, Laura became even more flustered as she tried to take her little girl. “No! Put her down.”
Frantic words now overlapped, jumbled together in a moment swimming in disorder.
We have to go-
Stop it!
Please listen-
What?
“There’s going to be a gas main explosion.”
At those words, Laura’s world got smaller, the hurt and anger she felt evaporated like drops of water on a hot stove. She was in an emotionless vacuum, fixed in tunnel vision that included nothing but this man and her daughter. His message had been so abrupt and unexpected she couldn’t quite process it.
Never before had he looked at her with such intensity, his eyes betraying a terror so clear, her mind had no choice but to finally grasp his warning.
“Trust me.”
And she did.
Despite the hurt and his lie of omission, Laura saw sincerity in him, heard it in his voice. Her eyes darting from his to Mary’s, fear anchored itself firmly in the pit of her stomach. Finally, she spoke, her voice both shaky and breathless. “Alright.”
As the three of them made their way down the steps, Charles made a last ditch effort to get the people moving. And this time, it worked.
The message got through, sent the crowd scattering in a wave of chaos. Within seconds, everyone was on the move. Band members dropped their instruments, ran for their lives. Amidst a moving sea of men, women, and children, echoed cries of fear, policemen’s whistles, and frenzied trotting of panicked horses.
For Laura, time trickled by at an agonisingly slow pace, a vast disparity from the wild thumping in her chest. Except for the sound of blood rushing through her veins, the rapid cadence of her shallow breathing, and the feel of her daughter’s slender arm beneath her grasping fingers, everything was a blur.
Then, like the calm before a storm, Laura blocked out all sounds. Caught in an eerie quiet, she blinked.
It happened. The loudest, most terrifying sound pierced her ears, shot through her entire body. In an instant, she was falling toward the ground. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the impact. It came swiftly, harshly, knocking the wind out of her. Grass and dirt scraped against her cheek, scratching tender flesh. In order to avoid the tiny particles and the heat rushing toward her, Laura sheltered her face as best she could.
Sometimes, in order to cope with shattering events, a person has to separate mind from reality. As she lay there, unsure whether she was alive or dead, Laura did just that. Her thoughts became an empty canvas, she drifted.
Suddenly, she felt something on her back, a sheltering touch, Charles’ hand. It served to ground her, brought her back to the here and now.
Realization that the blast was over and that she was indeed still alive gradually washed over. Lifting her head, Laura squinted through the smoke, called out in a low quivering voice. “Mary?”
The ringing in her ears made it difficult to hear a response. In the greyish haze, she looked to her left, and made out a faint outline, Charles.
Worry filled her, but soon ebbed when she realized he was moving. Her mother’s instincts immediately kicked into gear, she crawled closer, scanned for her daughter.
At first, she couldn’t see her, but then movement caught her eye.
Mary… Overwhelmed, Laura whimpered quietly as she moved over to her. With a trembling hand, she touched her daughter’s cheek.
Their eyes met, Mary’s filled with fear, her mother’s with profound relief.
In one swift movement, Laura gathered the frightened child in her arms, tears staining her cheeks. “Oh my sweet girl.” Kissing the top of her head, she clutched her tightly, rocked back and forth.
After a few moments, Laura looked down at her daughter, scanned her for any sign of injury. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
Mary shook her head in response.
“Thank goodness.” She said while smoothing her daughter’s hair. Smiling through tears, Laura closed her eyes.
His high of adrenalin receding, Charles crouched, bowed his head and draped an arm over one knee. This had been a close call, too close in fact and his head spun in recognition of what could have happened, of what he’d almost lost.
Everything…
He took a cleansing breath, looked up. Both Laura and Mary were covered in dust, their hair a dishevelled mess. Nevertheless, in all his life, Charles had never seen a more beautiful sight. They were okay.
An awkward feeling soon settled over him, and he found he didn’t know exactly what to do with himself. His continued observation of them started to feel intrusive, compelled him to look away.
Through the smoke, he could make out dazed and shocked faces.
Upon first glance, no one seemed seriously injured. People were slowly getting to their feet, shaken and confused, but relatively unscathed considering.
It was a funny thing, the human mind. Its mysteries far from being charted, it often worked in peculiar ways that could not be easily explained away. For instance, to know someone’s watching you without actually seeing it. Charles felt this, the source far from an enigma. Slowly, he turned and sure enough, Laura was looking right at him.
Full of contradicting emotions, her expression was difficult to read. One instant, she seemed relieved, the next confused.
“Laura…” Though his eyes were bright with unshed tears, Charles laughed softly-evidence of just how overwhelmed he was. He looked down momentarily then back.
As the moment lingered, he succumbed to the temptation to reach out to her. Considering the hurt he had caused her, it was a daring move, one he never would have made were it not for these extraordinary circumstances.
Careful to avoid the scrape on her cheek, his fingers grazed the side of her face. And for the briefest of instants, the look she gave him was reminiscent of better times.
Her eyes flickered with emotion, a small smile of gratitude gracing her lips. But then, all this fell away, replaced by a dull sadness.
Charles recognized the expression, respected it, and retreated.
In order to keep a tight rein on her emotions, Laura closed her eyes and swallowed. When she opened them again, she shook her head slowly. “How did you…” Unfinished, the question trailed.
“I…” To explain wouldn’t be easy and there was no way he could even begin to attempt an answer here-not with so many people around.
What he had to say, he could only share with her and he wasn’t even sure how much he should ultimately reveal. The truth in its entirety would be a difficult pill to swallow.
Would she even believe him?
Complicated… the word seemed frustratingly recurrent-went hand in hand with their relationship.
A relationship, he thought. Bathed in uncertainty, they might never have one.
Finally, Charles said, “I… maybe later.” He paused before continuing on a gentle whisper. “Okay?”
He could tell that Laura was puzzled by his response, but she did not press further. Not that she could have for there was a small resurgence in frenzied activity in the park.
The sounds of whistles broke through the dazed calm, after which followed directives from a man wearing one of those numbered red shirts. “Everybody please clear out! The area is not yet secure, clear out!”
It was a good thing there was a larger than normal number of law enforcement officials present. Somerville didn’t really have a high crime rate, quite the opposite. But with the arrival of Mr. McKinley, security had been beefed up.
Some of the officers ushered the citizens towards safety while others worked with some of the locals to shut off the many valves in the gas line.
“Let’s go, Mary.” Laura got to her feet, took her daughter by the hand, and set off with the rest of the townsfolk.
Everyone was headed toward a field just past a row of houses and buildings lining Somerville’s main street.
Charles followed but kept a respectable distance between himself and Laura. This was the sensible thing to do considering. He would give her the space she needed and seeing he wasn’t going anywhere, there would be time enough to try to approach her, to apologize and eventually explain.
As he walked, an uneasy feeling descended on him. People were pointing, whispering to one another.
There would undoubtedly be many questions for the bizarrely dressed man who had forewarned of the explosion.
What am I going to tell them?
Charles ran scenarios in his head, tried to come up with a plausible explanation. And as he arrived in the field, he decided to stand on the sideline, slightly apart from everyone.
It was better to err on the side of caution.
Ten minutes later, he was somewhat relieved. No one had approached him, yet. Oh there were stares and he could just feel the buzz of gossip all around. Gossip he was at the very center of.
He tried to ignore the attention, would look for Laura from time to time.
She stood a few yards away, Mary holding on to her arm as though she was afraid she would fly away.
Charles sighed. An event such as this was traumatic enough for an adult, let alone a child.
Poor kid…
~~~
After less than twenty minutes of standing in the field, Laura was more than ready to pack it in. She just wanted out of there, would have loved nothing more than to take Mary home.
But Turnip was tied up near the Gazette, and officials weren’t letting people in that area just yet.
It had been a traumatic day. Unsettled, she could not fully admit just how close she had been to losing her life. And when she thought of Mary and how she could have been at the wrong place at the wrong time…
Stop it, Laura.
The last thing she wanted to do was lose her composure in front of all these people. More importantly, she did not want Mary to see how distressed she was.
As if this nightmare of an explosion was not enough, seeing Charles again nearly toppled her-the wound in her soul still raw.
She had put herself out there, had given her heart to him, and in return she had been humiliated.
If only she could extinguish the flickering flame he had lit within her. To hurt so much, yet still feel a pull-it was enough to rip someone in two. And as she stood there, Laura experienced the full force of those conflicting emotions. It took everything she had not to let it show.
Any attempt at pushing Charles out of her mind would have surely failed at that point. All around, she could hear the spread of gossip and theories. It was obvious they were talking about him. And if that wasn’t enough, she was the recipient of a few curious stares and poorly concealed whispers as well.
A typical small town in rural America, Somerville was a place where everyone knew everyone. There had been some talk, she knew, the scuttlebutt from the past few days rather easy to speculate.
Who was that man hanging around Mrs. Brown?
He supposedly works in ads, drew those… uh what do you call ‘em… cartoons that were in the Gazette the other day. Heard he’s from the big city…
“Mama?”
Laura snapped back to reality. “Yes, Mary?”
The little girl seemed a lot more composed than earlier, that little spark of hers slowly re-emerging. “Why is Mr. Lattimer standing over there by himself?”
With a tone she hoped did not betray her turmoil, Laura answered, “I don’t know.”
Puzzled, Mary frowned. Then, she lifted her hand, touched her head. “I lost my hat.” This came out more as an admission of guilt instead of lamenting the loss of a personal effect.
Laura sought to ease her worry, the expression coming out as a small lopsided smile. “I lost mine too.”
“You think we’ll get them back?”
“Maybe.”
~~~
When officials finally declared the area safe, Charles was more than a little relieved.
Regretfully however, he watched Laura and Mary make their way toward the Gazette.
To see them as they left, made Charles feel empty. How he wished he could erase the harm he had done.
At that moment, his mind summoned Laura’s smile, how genuine it had been, so beautiful and mesmerizing. There had been such light in her whenever their eyes met. It made him wonder.
Will I ever see that light again?
Charles had no answer to that question, would not get one until he met her face to face, alone-something that would not come easily.
Although he had no a clue as to where he was going, he started toward the heart of town. He had barely made it ten yards when he spotted a finely dressed man speaking to an official-alright so his attire was somewhat dusty but it was a fine suit nonetheless.
The two men looked his way before walking over and it became clear as to what or whom they had been discussing.
Here we go…
Charles mentally braced himself before nodding in acknowledgement. “Gentlemen.”
“Hello, Sir. I don’t believe we’ve met. Let me introduce myself. I am Robert Patterson, mayor of Somerville.”
Patterson was a rather short fellow with salt and pepper hair, the slightly wavy fringe of it protruding below the brim of his gentlemen’s hat. He had astute eyes that spoke volumes on his intelligence and natural charisma. This was a man who could not be fooled easily. Which was a good thing for someone in his position, but right now, it made Charles nervous.
The two shook hands.
“Lattimer, Charles Lattimer.”
“A pleasure, though I wish we could have met under better circumstances. If I understand correctly, it would seem this town owes you a debt of gratitude.”
Charles tried to downplay his role. “Oh, it was nothing. Just did what had to be done.”
“That’s very humble of you Mr. Lattimer. You undoubtedly saved many lives today.” Patterson paused then. “Though I have to admit as to being rather curious,” he regarded him for a moment, a question lurking beneath his composed manner. ”How ever did you know there was going to be an explosion?”
And there it was-the dreaded question.
Even now, he still hadn’t come up with a plausible explanation. His mind in a panic, he tried to look calm, blurted, “Well… I was about to get off the train when I looked out the window. Thought there was something off about those valves across the way.” As soon as he’d uttered the words, Charles regretted them. This’ll never fly. It was too late to back out now, however. “When I realized they were from the gas line, I just reacted.”
The mayor seemed to ponder this for a second or two. Then, “You’re not from around these parts.” This wasn’t a question, rather a statement.
“No, I’m from St. Louis.”
As he balanced his weight from his heel to toe, Patterson clasped his hands behind his back. “I hear you’re the one who made those drawings for the Gazette.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“The train isn’t due before tomorrow. Do you have a place to stay?”
“I thought I’d book a room at the hotel.”
“Without a reservation? I’m afraid you won’t have much luck there. The rally drew a lot of people.”
“Oh.”
“Have no worries, we’ll find a place to put you up for the night. I’ll see to it personally, Mr. Lattimer. It’s the least I can do.”
“Very much appreciated, Mr. Mayor.”
With a practiced tip of his hat, Patterson smiled. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Charles returned the warm expression, nodded, though inside he was breathing an imaginary sigh of relief-one that turned into a real one as soon as the mayor and the official had turned away.
Disaster had been averted… for now. But he feared it wouldn’t be for long. The story about the valves had been but a fabrication brought on by desperation.
All Charles could do now was wait it out, see what would come of it.
~~~
The mayor had been true to his word, by supper time he had arranged for a place to stay.
It was very common in those days for people to offer room and board to hired hands. Therefore, finding a family willing to house him hadn’t been difficult. Considering the abundance in curiosity about the mysterious man from St. Louis, there might have been more than simple hospitality to the offered lodging.
On first glance, the Davis’ appeared to be a decent folk of average means. Their home was well kept, simple, charming even.
In their early fifties, Jeffrey and Margaret lived with their youngest of four children. A son named Paul who would be turning fourteen before soon.
Mr. Davis ran the lumber yard would start training his son in all aspects of the craft in the fall. Mrs. Davis, on the other hand, fulfilled a more traditional role. She stayed at home, cooked, cleaned, and everything in between.
“Where’s your plunder, Mr. Lattimer?” asked Mrs. Davis as she went about setting a kettle of water on the stove.
Charles was not familiar with that particular expression. Slightly embarrassed, he asked, “Pardon?”
The sandy blond woman smiled. When she elaborated, humour laced her voice. “You always travel without a suitcase?”
“Oh.” His eyes widened a bit and his brows rose. With a shake of the head, he answered, “I uh, actually left it on the train.” Fully aware of how silly he looked in his 21st century outfit, he rubbed the back of his neck, smiled shyly. “Guess I’m going to have to buy a new suit tomorrow.”
“Stores don’t do business on the Lord’s day, Mr. Lattimer.”
“Right.” Charles hadn’t thought of that.
“You can wear something of my husband’s in the meantime.”
“That’d be very kind of you, Mrs. Davis. I’d be very much obliged.”
The front door opened, the hinges creaking slightly. Mr. Davis and his son walked in, both removed their hats.
“Evenin’.”
Charles had been introduced to Mr. Davis a little while earlier when it had been decided that he would stay at their home for the night. “Evening.” He replied.
As Mrs. Davis stirred a pot of stew, she asked, “Any news on what caused the blast?”
“Something to do with the valves and piping. Seems the line was faulty from one end of the park to the other.” Pulling a chair, he sat down. So did his son. Mr. Davis then turned to Charles, gestured toward the empty spot to his left. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Though he tried to remain neutral, Charles was anxious. He sat down, and listened.
“They can’t explain it.” Mr. Davis passed a hand through his wavy grayish brown hair. “The valves across the train station were twisted. Took a good half hour just to shut them off. Some folks were saying it could have been done by movement in the soil, but I don’t know. If you ask me, it’s doubtful they’ll find the cause of the damage.” He paused then, his eyes drifting into nothingness as he pondered the mystery. “Real strange.”
Well I’ll be damned. Charles could hardly believe his ears. The explanation he’d given to the mayor, one he thought would never hold up, now rang true. He had to admit, fate had done stranger things, but still…
Mrs. Davis stirred the pot of stew that was near done on the stove. “Good thing is no one got hurt.” With a smile she added, “Thanks to a certain gentleman from St. Louis.”
Charles responded with a self-effacing expression.
“Tell me, Mr. Lattimer. How long do you plan on staying in Somerville?”
“Well…” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, a sense of hope and warmth filling him. “…hard to say exactly. I might stick around for a while.” Despite the uncertainty ahead, he felt like someone who had finally arrived after a long journey. He had been searching his whole entire life for just such a place and to find himself here…
Thoughts of a certain newspaper editor suddenly filled him, forced him to acknowledge the fact that the Somerville in his heart went hand in hand with Laura Brown.
This could really become home, though without the woman he loved would it ever feel complete?
Probably not.
~~~
Laura sat on the edge of Mary’s bed, the soft light of an oil lamp illuminating her features. With gentle strokes, she brushed her daughter’s light brown hair. The color was definitely that of her father’s, the curls however came from her. “You want to read some more of our book tonight?”
Mary turned her head slightly and made a little face that said she’d rather not. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Alright.” Laura understood the lack of interest in a story. This had been a pretty unsettling day.
Her hair brushed, Mary crawled under the covers, gave a small smile to her mother.
Laura gently touched the side of her daughter’s face, then bent down and deposited a kiss to her forehead. “Good night my sweet girl.”
“Night, Mama.”
All it took was a turn of a knob for the room to be bathed in relative darkness.
Laura then left Mary’s bedroom, grabbed the notepad she had retrieved from the littered park and headed toward her own.
Tomorrow being Sunday, it meant there was no work to be done at the Gazette. With all the day’s events, there would be much to cover Monday. Laura figured she might as well write as much of the story as she could, not only as a way to catch up, but to keep her mind from wandering.
But it would be no use.
She had been sitting at her vanity for over fifteen minutes, her eyes lost in the flicker of the tiny flame ensconced in the delicate glass cover of her oil lamp. In her motionless fingers rested a pencil that had yet to touch paper.
Her heart was in shambles, fought to keep from drowning in a sea of woe. Laura was exhausted and unable to focus. She finally surrendered to this knowledge, waved the proverbial flag by closing her notebook.
With her stare now directed toward the mirror in front of her, Laura brought her hands to her freshly washed hair. The knot gave way, sent undulating cascades of dark russet down her back.
The woman staring back at her was a far cry from the one reflected just a few days ago. From this very spot, she had gazed into the glassy surface, had dreamt of possibilities that included a charming yet elusive man from St. Louis.
In the twinkling of an eye, Charles Lattimer had reawakened a long dormant part of her soul.
He had treated her like an equal, something that was a rarity in this day and age. Never had she met anyone like him before.
The memory of lips on hers was seared in her mind, scorched her with vivid clarity. But a lot more than fire lingered in her essence-hurt, disappointment, and humiliation also made residence there. And right now, those three latter emotions threatened to shatter her.
Ever since she had seen Charles that afternoon, Laura had wanted nothing more than to be alone, away from eyes that might discern her heartbreak. She did not want anyone to know, for she already felt like a naïve idiot. But now that she was tucked away behind the walls of her bedroom, Laura found her solitude unbearable.
This was all too much.
As her eyelids fell, so did tears-they rolled down her cheeks, sinuously traversed the rough patch of scraped skin until they fell in a delicate splatter on the wooden surface of her vanity.
Her hushed cries were barely loud enough to break through the quiet of night, but they did nonetheless. They echoed through this loneliest of bedrooms, lamenting a man who was not present to hear them.
So that's it for chapter 1.
continue to chapter 2