/HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL! In case anyone was worried I was gone for good nope! Just hard at work bringing you only the finest in angsty Charlie Davis and Rose Anderson related fics. For those wondering, I had a lovely holiday but I'm glad to be home with my proper laptop and keyboard! Fun fact I wrote parts of this on a plane and in Japan. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this, I am a huge fan of future aus. For those who may be concerned, don't worry, I haven't gone all het on you, both my fics in the pipeline have a generous amount of M/M. Enjoy, and leave a review if you liked it! (warnings: minor character death, death of a child, child birth, pregnancy, mentioned racism)
This was Peach Creek, Rose thought as she stepped off the train and onto the platform. As she approached the ticket booth, she looked up at the dark sky. She really had no choice. Behind her, the train pulled off on its way to the next tiny little town, severely late due to an accident earlier in the day. She was grateful that it hadn't stopped and had continued its journey, as she really didn't have the money to stay in another hotel. Why on Earth had Charlie picked a town to work in that was so far away from Ballarat?
The ticket booth was manned by a young lady of Aboriginal descent with curly brown hair secured back from her face in a ponytail, with an old fashioned victory roll on the left side of her head. She looked up at Rose as she approaches, and gives her a polite smile.
"Welcome to Peach Creek station, how can I help you?" In his spotty phone calls over the years, Charlie had told them about Peach Creek. The tiny town with 400 people and one cop.
"Uh, hello. I was wondering if the police station has a closing time?"
"Are you in danger? " She asked, right away.
"No, no. I just want to speak with Sergeant Davis. We're... Friends." She wasn't sure that was strictly true anymore. It had been almost eight years since she'd seen him. But he was her only hope right now. The woman gave her a curious look and Rose can't decide if it's because she doesn't think Charlie has friends or she doesn't think Charlie would be friend with her. "It's almost nine o'clock, so I don't think he's still at work." The woman must have seen the look that crossed her face and the tears suddenly welling in her eyes. She couldn't just barge into his home. That wouldn't be right. She takes pity, again, and then says "I have his home number, I can call him if you like." Apparently, she didn't see Rose as a threat, and fair enough. She was seven months pregnant and tired enough to drop then and there. In a life where she had more pride, more fire, she might have been offended. She opened the door to the ticket booth and let Rose sit on the stool inside. A nearby train timetable indicates hers is the last one for the day. She hopes the woman isn't either put out.
She picks up the old phone and holds it to her ear while she puts in an unfamiliar number. She only had the number at the station for Charlie, since his 'escape' from Ballarat, it was the only one he had deigned to give them. He was an odd duck, Charlie Davis.
"Hi Charlie." So they were... Friends? "Yeah it's Ruth." A pretty name, Rose thought. "Hey listen, I have a woman here who wants to speak with you. Hang on, I'm sorry. I didn't get your name."
"Rose. Rose Harriet."
"Rose Harriet. Yeah. I'll put her on." She took the phone in both hands before holding it to her ear.
"Rose! I haven't heard from you since your honeymoon." At least he isn't upset to hear from her here at Peach Creek.
"Yeah. Sorry. Things just happen, you know?"
"Something like that." Small talk was never his forte. "What brings you to Peach Creek?"
"I was... Well. I need somewhere to stay, for a while. Somewhere away from Ballarat. I'll explain the rest later... If you want. And if you could come get me..."
"I don't like it when people get cryptic on me. Usually means I'm about to get involved in some bad shit." He's not wrong. "Alright. I'm coming. Pass the phone back to Ruth, please." She does. Ruth takes it.
"Yeah, yeah. She's fine here. No, David won't mind if I'm late. You just come quickly alright? See you soon." After she put the phone down, Ruth looked over at her, and her single bag and she must have felt more than a little sympathy, because she walked over and sat next to her.
"Listen, Rose. Charlie's a really good guy. He's done a lot for this town. If you're in trouble, he'll help you."
"I know." She said softly. And she did. Charlie was a really great guy. At least until he left, she supposed.
"How do you know him, if you don't mind me asking."
"You probably know he was in Ballarat for a while."
"Actually no. No one knows anything about Charlie really. Keeps to himself. Which is fair enough, I mean he's the only copper so he really can't be seen being too friendly with anyone." She nodded in understanding and sighed softly.
"Any other reason you've chosen our little town?"
"No I just... I really had to see him, is all. I haven't seen him in almost eight years. He's always been a good friend to me." Ruth nods, and stands, stretching.
"Doesn't shock me, he's been good to this town. And to me, I suppose." She nodded, and placed her hands on her stomach. Inside, a tiny foot (or perhaps a fist, she had no real way of telling) pressed up against it briefly before vanishing back away inside her. She wondered again if she was making the right choice, but decided not to dwell on it. As Ruth goes about shutting up shop, she settled in her chair.
Since he left, Charlie's sporadic contact told her precious few things about his life. He had a cat, named Beatrice. He'd sent Jean a picture. Apparently he'd adopted her in wake of his beloved fish, named Matthew, passing away. She was personally surprised he didn't go with a dog. He'd always seemed like a dog man to her, but she supposed one could be both. She'd never had many pets herself. Not even fish. She did have a bunny when she was a child, but he died of old age when she was a teenager. She knew that he was the only cop in town, though she didn't know why someone who loved the city so much would pick the smallest town available. She knew little else. He'd dyed his hair blond for a spell, but decided he hated it.
It only takes fifteen minutes for him to pull up in a police car. She's glad he hasn't changed too much. Close to forty years old, Charlie was still a handsome man, though he had lost some boyishness that used to cloud his face. The crease between his nose and mouth had only deepened with time, and his nose was a lot more crooked than she remembered it being. At the front of his face, almost in the middle of his head, a shock of white hair had taken up residence. She felt a bit bad for him, going grey at only forty. She knew there was a name for the condition that made it do that but she can't remember it. She notes, upon his entry, he's missing the top of his ring finger, but she doesn't know (or doesn't remember) how it happened.
She supposes that she looks all to different. She'd grown her hair out and ditched the fringe six months ago now, after having it most her life. She was convinced the stress of recent months were to blame for the beginnings of wrinkles forming around her eyes. She's bigger now, obviously. She's paler than well. She feels as bad as she looks. Her hair is limp, her bags are heavy.
Charlie looks surprised.
"Rose!" He said, in no small amount of shock. Ruth looks over, eyebrows raised. Charlie is taking off his coat, it's a long trench sort of thing with shiny black buttons. "You don't have a coat." He said, putting it around his shoulders. Ruth looks down again. "It's like five degrees out here." True, her orange cardigan as good to her as it may have been was not appropriate for this weather, but she hadn't thought to grab anything else.
"Thanks. "She said, pleased he wasn't mad at her. She didn't know what to make of him anymore.
Helping her stand, and then collecting her bag, he was clearly egar to get her home asap, but she wasn't sure why.
"Thank you, Ruth." He smiled charmingly.
"Yes, thank you." She parroted, before following him to the car. He put her things in the boot, and came around to join her.
He sat in the driver's seat and took another look at her.
"I liked the fringe better."
"Sorry, I'll take that into consideration next time. "
"So you should." He replied affably. He set off, driving at a reasonable speed and making no further attempt to converse. Anyone else and she might have been concerned, but she knew that it was probably better this way. Charlie was not good at making small talk. Eventually, they pull up to a house on a block of land with well mowed grass.
On the veranda, there is a child with blonde curls and peaches and cream skin of about nine. She's eating something out of a bowl and seems rather pleased with herself. Charlie pulls the car to a stop and collects her bag before helping her from the car. Rose wonders if that child is related to him somehow.
"Good evening Miss Pamela!" He said, cheerfully.
"Hi Charlie!" She said back.
"Is your grandmother around?" He asked. Rose felt an odd relief. She wasn't Charlie's. Not that there would have been an issue if there was. She was a married woman after all, not here to have a frisky night with Charlie.
"I'll get her." Pamela assured him, clambering to her feet, leaving her bowl.
"That's Pamela Watson. I rent the house at the back of this block from her grandmother Mrs Watson."
"Oh. Is she-?"
"Yes, she's raising Pamela." Rose nodded but deigned not to enquire further, as it didn't seem her place.
Mrs Watson was a woman about Jean's age with a similar feeling about her. She had short blonde hair neatly pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.
"Good evening sergeant." She smiled.
"Hello Mrs Watson. " Rose noted that the woman spoke with a strong French accent.
"Who is this?"
"This is my friend Rose, is it alright if she spends the night?" Mrs Watson frowned, but must have decided Charlie's intentions were pure because she nodded.
"Of course; any friend of yours is a friend of mine."
"Thank you." He said, "I'll make it up to you, I'll clean out that garden bed."
"No need, no need." Pause, "But much obliged." He smiled back. "Good night, Charlie. Rose." She smiled at her, making her feel a bit warm inside, and very welcome.
"Bon Nuit Mrs Watson. Sleep well Pamela. Enjoy your ice cream." At Charlie's rather Australian French, Mrs Watson rolled her eyes, but allowed it. Pamela waved. As they approached the back of the block, the soft sound of Pamela asking to stay up for five minutes more followed them to the 'house' at the back of the block.
The house, as it was, was quite old, but seemed well cared for. The problem garden bed was nearby, but the one in front of the house seemed fine. There were roses, pink dasies, a variety of small leafy things she supposed were good for cooking and a lone tomato plant near the house. Opening the front sliding door, he let her in.
It was nice inside. There was no landing room, they stepped straight into his living room pretty much. He took the coat from her and hung it on a nearby hook while toeing off his shoes, but not his socks. Like her, he easily felt the cold. The room however, was pleasantly heated. A cat decided to make itself known to her by weaving in between her legs.
"Yes thank you Beatrice." Charlie replied, scooping the cat into his arms. As far as cats went, Rose thought this one was a bit ugly. It had a flat face, big eyes and a chunk missing from its left ear. Charlie seems smitten with it however and gives it a bit of what could only be described as a cuddle before releasing it to the room. She went off to probably eat, as that was what cats did.
Charlie led her to the sitting space in the room, which consisted of a large dark coloured sofa, a small tv, a coffee table with a small vase of fake flowers and a radio as well as a small jar of some kind. She sat on the couch.
"Tea?" He asked politely.
"No, thank you." She smiled. "Water?"
"I can do that." He nodded, and went to the kitchen, and returned with water in a plastic cup lined with cracks. He sat, opting to drink nothing.
"Is Mister Harriet going to be following after?" He asked. She shook her head now and took a drink before elaborating.
"No. We're... We're getting a divorce."
"Oh." He replied, finally. "Surely that's something that could be handled in Ballarat." It was.
"It is, usually. I just... I need to wait for my two years, is all."
"Oh." He replied, still not really understanding, but thankfully not wanting to push it any further for now. "Well, I only have one bed, and seeing that you're pregnant you should sleep there. I'll make up the couch."
Charlie stood after a moment, and collected her bag from the hall and took it to her (well, his) room, giving her a few moments alone. She stood and had a bit of a wander, looking for his bathroom as it seemed like this child was using her bladder as a pillow. It was tucked away near the back of the house. The actual toilet was fairly new, she thought. The bathroom itself was not. The shower was old; the bath was stained but at least the faucets didn't drip. That drove her half out of her mind.
She washed her hands in his sink, and sighed to herself when she looked into the mirror. At thirty five, she looked older. She couldn't tell if that was because she was so tired or is that was just how she looked now. She'd always thought that pregnant women had a glow about them. She sure as hell didn't. She wasn't sure she ever had. Maybe at the start. Now? Not so.
She returned to the living room to find Charlie absent. She took the time to have a look at his home. There's a wedding photo up on the wall, a quick look reveals Charlie and a woman she doesn't recognize. Next to that there is a photo of a baby in a hospital bed who looked more sick than she did. She hadn't known Charlie was married. She'd at least called him to tell him when she got married. He had not extended her the same courtesy it seemed. So it wouldn't look like she had been snooping, she returned to the couch just as Charlie came back with an arm full of sheets.
"I took your bag to my room. " She smiled sadly at him.
"Thank you." She wondered if that was his baby, and if so, what had happened to it because there was no trace of a child in this house. She stood, and as she passed him she pulled him into the closest hug she could manage. He doesn't hug back, but hurries her to the room so she can be alone.
...
Rose woke late the following day. She wasn't sure how late, but the sun was bright in the sky and outside she can hear Charlie talking to his cat.
"Yes, puss, it's lunch time." He liked to pretend he was tough but she knew otherwise. It took her a few more minutes to get herself up. She made her way to the kitchen where Charlie was making sandwiches.
"Good morning. Or afternoon."
"What time is it? "
"Nearly one o'clock."
"Shouldn't you be at work?" She asked, automatically. She isn't surprised that she slept that long, she'd been so utterly bushed that evening.
"I was, came home to see you and make sure you got something to eat."
"Oh." She said, finally. Charlie set a sandwich on a plate in front of her.
"Ham and salad. " He clarified, "Would you like something to drink?"
"No; thanks." She said, as he wrapped a second sandwich in waxy paper.
"Are you going back in?"
"Yeah. I have some stuff to finish up."
"Oh."
"Crime doesn't sleep, even in a town of four hundred people." He said, "There's been a lot of arson lately so I've been working on reports for that." He sighed.
"Anywhere super public?"
"Mostly just hay stacks and such out in the farmlands. We get them under control fast, thank God." She nodded, and took a bite from the sandwich. "Also Mrs Watson would like you to go over this afternoon for some lemonade."
"Oh. Okay." She said, with a little smile. She wanted to make a good impression with one of Charlie's friends so she supposed she should make the effort and go.
After Charlie took off again, Rose decided to put on her nicest skirt, which was an actual maternity skirt, and a shirt that fit well enough. She decided to pair it with her beloved orange cardigan before crossing the shared backyard to the door. She knocked twice on the fly screen and was received by Mrs Watson. She looked similar to the night before, complete with bun. She welcomed Rose into the house with a smile and settled her at the table after they exchanged some brief pleasantries. Once she was sitting Rose looked around the kitchen. It was a sort of organized chaos with pots and pans of this and that sitting around and a plate of biscuits on the table, of which she took one.
Mrs Watson gave her a tall glass of lemonade with ice cubes, and sat across from her at the table.
"I don't think I got your full name." She said, with a kind smile.
"Rose, Rose Harriet. And you?"
"Mrs Suzy Watson, but most just call me Mrs Watson." She said, with a kind smile. Rose feels that familiar ache in her stomach she often feels when thinking about Jean and Lucien. "What brings you to our little town?"
"Charlie was, for a time, my best friend. I wanted him to be the Godfather of my child, so I figured I should come see him." She lied.
"Is that so?"
"It is, yes." Pause.
"He's a good man, Charlie Davis."
"He is."
"Is your husband going to be coming up?"
"No. He and I are…having some difficulties and this vacation is to see if I can get through them."
"Ah. My husband and I had a lot of arguments, bless his soul." Rose doesn't know how to reply to that and puts one hand on her stomach. For a while, they talked about baby names and clothes, discusses Charlie and his job as well as Rose's family. It was a brief but pleasant chat. Eventually Mrs Watson took in the time. She smiled at Rose and stood.
"I hate to spoil the party my dear but I must go pick up Pamela from school."
"Wait! Just before you go. I have to ask, is Charlie married?" Mrs Watson looked at her, with cool blue eyes.
"That's not for me to say." She replied, "But for him to tell you, and he will. When he's ready." She nodded, and followed her out the front door.
"Have a nice afternoon." Rose smiled. Mrs Watson nodded.
"You too, my dear. Feel free to help yourself to more biscuits." After seeing her off, Rose went back to Charlie's house.
She had another look around this time less concerned about being caught. She ran a finger over the dustless fake flowers and decided to take a look in his kitchen. It was small and neat, and her plate was still on the counter. Slightly embarrassed by her own untidiness, she set it in the sink and paused to look at the famed photos on top of his fridge. One of him and the woman from the wedding pictures in a cracked photo frame that had been lying face down. One she remembered from the time that the two of them courted briefly. It had been taken by Jean at some kind of gathering that she and Matthew had been invited to. Charlie had an arm around her and is beaming proudly, she's smiling as well. She doesn't know why he'd keep that one in particular because she'd long lost her copy. There was also a picture of him with Paemla as young girl on his lap. He has a selection of hair clips in his hair, probably from the child. She moves onto a cork board with various notes stuck onto it with thumbtacks. Notes, circled dates and a couple of pictures. She'd never known someone to surround themselves with so many pictures. This one she understood more. Him, Lucien and Jean taken around the time Lucien and Jean were engaged out the front of the house. Charlie is between them grinning. He doesn't smile like that anymore she thought. It was lucky they got that photo because he barely smiled at all since Edward told him he looked stupid when he smiled.
Eventually she found herself back in the living room, and took a seat on his couch. She picked up an open book that was spine up on the table. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. A bit juvenile for a grown man but she sat and read for a while. However, like when she was a girl, it did nothing to interest her. Before she could find anything else to do, the cat decided that now was the time that it wanted to get to know her and hoped up onto the couch next to her. She put a hand on its back and sighed as it put a paw on her stomach. She wished, a little, that things had never ended between her and Charlie. She couldn't help but think that things would be a lot easier for her if he was protecting her but such was life. Back in the day, she never had spare time like this, she would have been working on a story. She'd kill to have some work again.
It's still hours until she can expect Charlie to come home, so she decided to phone Jean and let her know that she'd arrived okay.
"Doctor Blake's surgery."
"Hi Jean, it's Rose." Pause.
"Did you get there alright? We hadn't heard from you in a couple of days we were starting to get worried."
"I'm fine, I got here fine."
"Did you find Charlie alright?"
"Yeah I did. I'm calling from his house."
"Is he okay?"
"He's fine, if a little tired. He's got this funny white streak going up the front. Can you ask Lucien what would cause that?"
"Sure. And you have somewhere to stay?"
"Charlie put me up in his bedroom for the time being. I don't know what I'm going to do in the future thought, I didn't really plan for that, just getting here."
"You'll think of something." Jean promised. Rose sighed softly, and sat at a stool at Charlie's kitchen bench under his cork board, which served as a desk.
You sound tired."
"I am."
"Get some rest, alright?" She nodded, and hung up the phone, heading to the bedroom for what had become a custom. A mid afternoon nap.
...
Charlie arrived home close to seven thirty with an arm full of paperwork. Rose was sitting in the living room browsing the channels on his tv. There was nothing worth watching on other than a local station playing big band music.
"That thing is useless." Charlie told her, setting his bag on the table. "Only gets three channels, one that plays the news, one that plays big band from six 'till eight, and the ABC. "We used to have one that played rock and roll but the girl who ran it moved to Perth."
"Oh. Maybe you should get a station, play videos of your cat."
"Ha." He responded, and sat next to her. "Listen, I did some calling around, and since tomorrow's Saturday I got you and appointment with the local GP just to make sure you're okay after the trip you still look dead on your feet. Then I was thinking we could go get you some actual maternity winter clothes since you don't seem to have any in that tiny suitcase."
"I'd love to do all of that, Charlie, but I don't have much money." She admitted, finally. Another reason she chose Charlie, he was generous and would let her stay for a while, as she figured things out.
"Doctor Grant will do it as a favour to me and I'm sure that I can afford to buy you a couple of coats." He replied, having obviously thought this through a bit more than she'd thought. "But you do actually need to tell me why you're here." He stopped from speaking by putting an and up, "The truth. If you're going to be in my house I'd like to know."
"Is now really the time?" She sighed and folded her arms atop her stomach. "I'm putting my reputation on the line for you Rose. This is a little town, smaller than Ballarat and gossip travels twice as fast. So far today I've already had three people question my decency and I've been here, steadily working on attaining a good reputation for seven years. "
"You didn't even tell us you were married what gives you the right to know anything now?" She demanded.
"My being married has nothing to do with you, and you really have no right to bring it up. Might I remind you, Mrs Harriet, that you are in my house under the good grace of my landlord and I would like to know why that is when four months ago you sounded perfectly happy." He was right, bringing up his obviously failed marriage was cruel. She relented.
"Because I'm not actually Rose Harriet. It's Rose Tyeneman." Charlie's eyebrows lept so far up his forehead that Rose thought he looked like he'd bitten directly into a power line.
"Pardon?"
"I married Edward Tyneman." Charlie sat back on the lounge looking more than a little shocked. "We had sex, but it was just one time, I'd broken up with a boyfriend and I missed being happy and I thought that some brief sex would help."
"You consented?"
"I initiated it."
"Oh."
"Then it turns out I was pregnant because the dick head doesn't know how to pull out and I spoke to his mum and she said she could get me an abortion or we could get married and I decided to get married, and I thought maybe things would turn out okay and fast forward seven months, I'd never been more miserable in my life and I suggested splitting up and Susan decided to smear my name and I had to go somewhere. And... You've always been... I don't know. Stable? Comforting? You were far away from Ballarat and I knew as long as I kept pretending I was Rose Harriet you'd help me at least a little." Charlie kept looking at her with that look and she feels her stomach is going to implode with pent up anxiety. "Charlie please say something." He stared at her for another moment, before putting his face in his hands.
"You married Edward Tyneman?"
"I did." Charlie doesn't move for almost another minute.
"I don't understand."
"I was scared! I didn't think I had a choice."
"So you're Mrs Tyneman."
"Not forever! Only until I can get a divorce and we have to live apart for two years."
"All I ever told you was that he was bad news."
"I know. I should have listened back then but you're gone from Ballarat, Charlie. They don't even have pictures of you up on the walls anymore. It's like you were never there sometimes. You didn't see him change."
"Change? The only thing Edward Tyneman can change is his socks."
"I'm sorry."
"Alright, well I guess the thing is that you realized he's a piece of shit before the baby was born." She reached for his hand and took it into hers. His hand is much bigger then hers, but colder. Even in the warmth of the house, his fingers are like blocks of ice. She remembered that from when they courted. Charlie didn't say anything. After a moment, she put his hand palm down on her stomach. The baby kicks his hand, and vanishes back inside of her. Charlie smiled at her, and then pulls his hands away.
"Shall I prepare us something to eat?" She nodded, realizing she was famished. "Anything I should know food wise?"
"I hate the smell of eggs cooking; it makes me sick."
"I'll keep that in mind." He commented, getting to his feet.
...
The following morning, Charlie accompanied Rose to her doctors appointment, a rather uneventful thing that she decided bared little need to remember. Doctor Grant was a woman in her mid thirties who came out here looking to be taken seriously as a doctor. She reminds Rose of Alice in manner but otherwise was the opposite.
She had light hair she wore in a sort of bizarre piece that included a bun and what she believed was called a 'quaff'. Not her personal taste, but she wasn't going to judge someone for something like their hair that would make her rather hypocritical. clearly the woman held Charlie in high esteem, and asked several questions about their relationship to which Rose informed her that she was married (but not to Charlie) and he was a good friend.
Following that, Charlie, as promised, took her to look at some proper maternity clothes. She suspected that the local gossips would have a field day. She can't help but wish her mother was still with them so she could share these moments with her. Matthew was her only remaining family and God Only Knows when the fuck she was going to see him again. His reaction to her marrying a Tyneman was to literally not even attend the wedding. She hadn't known he hated Patrick quite that much. Even Charlie, Edward's nemesis back in the day, had never held a great deal of distaste for Patrick, referring to him as 'annoying, a bit of a prick, but he seems to have morals. Somewhere. Under all those piles of money.'
Charlie just had a strong dislike for rich people in general. She supposed if she was poor for most of her life she'd feel a similar way.
There was one shop in the tiny town that specialized in maternity clothes. Charlie made his way inside, and nodded hello to the lady behind the counter. She looks rather surprised to see him here, but nodded back.
"Good morning Jennifer."
"Good morning Charlie." The lady behind the counter is dark in colour, and had an intricate hairstyle with many braids. She gave off an air of motherly-ness, which she liked a lot.
"So this is Rose." Charlie smiled awkwardly. "She looks just how you described her." Jennifer said, coming over to them and putting a hand on his arm. Charlie hugged her tightly and released her. She turned to look at Rose. "Charlie used to talk about you all the time before he got married. Avery had half a mind that she was going to lose him to you." Charlie had turned a delightful shade of red.
"Avery?" She asked, finally. Jennifer hit Charlie on the arm.
"So you didn't tell them."
"No, I didn't."
"Four years of marriage and you don't tell your best friend?"
"You don't know them." Charlie replied, not put off. Jennifer shook her head and sighed at him.
"You're lucky I love you." She informed him. "Should I be setting an extra place at the table on Sunday?"
"I go to lunch with Jennifer and her husband Chris on Sundays after church." Charlie explained to Rose, "It's a long story."
"It's not really." Jennifer said, "But it is your story." She said, "I expect you to tell her young man. Now. What can I do for you?"
"I don't have any clothes." Rose said, after several moments of silence. "Well I do, but I need more, obviously."
"Well you've come to the right place for that." Jennifer said, leading her to a large metal thing with coat hangers on it.
She turned to look back at Charlie and made a shooing gesture.
"Go!"
"So you can tell stories about me? Plus it is going onto my account." He said, but it was a pleasant sort of friendly banter rather than any real malice.
"Don't be ridiculous. She can have them for free, since you are still family afterall."
"She's not."
"She's your family. Which makes her mine. Now go! I'm sure you have something that needs doing." Charlie does appear to listen to this and heads out the door, hands up in a 'surrender' gesture.
"He's a funny old soul that one." She said, picking up a peach coloured dress and holding it up against Rose.
"That's an interesting way to describe annoying."
"My poor daughter would likely agree with you, God Bless her soul." So Charlie's wife was dead, and this was his mother in law? Something like that, she decided.
"He's a nice boy." She said, after a moment, her hands selecting two other dresses off the rack. "You must agree, you wouldn't be here otherwise." She was right, Rose thought, she did like Charlie a lot. "Just give him time. He'll get there."
"I'm not in love with him."
"Maybe. But he's in love with you. Always was. He loved his wife with all his heart, but he always had half a heart for you too."
"Really?"
"Mmmm. Now. Go try those on." She said, sending Rose to a changing room with a curtain in front of it. She ended up getting two dresses, a skirt and a shirt and a coat, all of which would be enough to still fit her when she got bigger. Jennifer was a kind woman who had warm hands and told her a few bits and bobs about town.
...
According to Charlie, in Peach Creek, there were two main forms of entertainment, the local boys cricket team, and church. She'd never been much of a church goer, not even on Easter. After Matthew took custody of her when she was five, she'd stopped officially. Her mother, from what she could remember, used to take her for Christmas and she knew she was baptized. Other than that, she had never really gone to the House of God, or whatever they were calling it now.
Charlie, on the opposite hand, had been raised a dedicated Catholic and revelled in the freedom of not having to go to Church in Ballarat. She should have known he'd go back to it though. Boys like him always did.
There were two Churches in Peach Creek. Charlie attended the Catholic one, and apparently, he expected her to go with him. At first she'd objected, but realized he had a point. If she wanted to be accepted in this town then she had to do the things that the people in this town did and that included going to Church.
It wasn't a very flashy Church, all Churches considered. There was a stained glass mural of Jesus, the obligatory cross and other paraphernalia. A large sort of bird bath that you crossed yourself at. A confessionals booth. A podium. A collection of pews.
While the priest or vicar or whoever-the-fuck was giving his sermon about the dangers of sin, Rose took the time to think about her childhood. She, like Charlie had grown up in Melbourne. Her mother had been a seamstress, her father a butcher. Her uncle a police man. Her grandfather a police man. They'd been a nice little family, all things considered. Like Charlie, she lost her father young, but she didn't really remember him, while Charlie was plenty old enough to remember and idolize his father. (and if that wasn't enough, also her uncle but that was a whole other set of thoughts.)
That was pretty much where the similarities stopped. Her mother also passed away young in an accident involving live wires that she wasn't willing to go into much further detail with. She was officially adopted by Matthew Lawson when she was five. Old enough to tell him that she didn't want to change her name. She worried often that Matthew never took the time to have a family of his own because he was looking after her. She moved out of home when she was eighteen and he went off to Ballarat.
She liked her uncle a lot, as a child, she'd wanted to be just like him. Before she grew up and realized he was emotionally stilted and struggled to form connections with people. That...That part she could live without. Charlie was the same though. What was it about men and being awkward in relationships? It was frustrating to her.
Church came to an end with a group prayer, and they headed out with Jennifer and who she assumed was Chris. She hadn't asked Charlie about Avery yet, for some reason, despite having told Charlie basically her life story, she was scared to hear his. She didn't want to be held up to Avery, she supposed. Odd feeling.
Lunch was a pleasant affair; she didn't have much cause to join the conversation as it was mostly about events around town she wasn't a part of. She spent most of the time looking at the picture decorated walls of the dining room. A selection of the pictures was of Avery, who she knew from Charlie's wedding picture, chronicling her change from child to young woman. There was that same wedding photo again. Charlie looks so happy. She doesn't ever remember him looking that happy when they were courting. There was a picture of Jennifer and Chris's wedding day, faded from exposure. A picture of Avery pregnant in the same frame as Jennifer pregnant. A picture of Charlie laughing while talking with Avery. Seems he was close with his in laws. Odd.
...
The following Tuesday, she woke up to Charlie on the phone. While Charlie being on the phone was not new, what was new was that he was talking quite loudly.
"What is wrong with you?!" a pause, while, she supposed, the other person replied. "She's a person, not a thing, thank you. And she has a name, Rose. " Someone from Ballarat. Probably a Tyneman.
"No I haven't seen her but if I had, then I swear you would be the last person I called. How did you get this number anyway?!" While Charlie continued having his argument, Rose rolled onto her side and put a hand on her stomach. It was not the way she'd intended for her baby to be born, that was for sure. She loved her baby, this much she knew. She loved this baby with all her heart. But fuck damn shit. She did not love it's father. She never had. Inside her, the baby kicks her hands.
"We'll be okay." She promised, rubbing along her skin. "Charlie will know what to do." She continued, "After you're born. He'll be a good daddy." She had known from the second she arrived here that Charlie would end up being the baby's father. There was really no doubt about it. In fact, she was tempted to ask him if he would adopt the baby (she really needed a name, the baby was getting tiresome) under his name so Edward could never get his hands on her (and she was certain for some reason it would be a her).
It takes a few minutes for Charlie to come into the room. He took a seat on her bed and sighed slightly. He's only wearing a singlet and is, despite the cold weather, quite sweaty. He also smells a little bad but Rose figures he's aware of this.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's fine."
"That's Edward wanting to know if I'd seen you."
"Have you?"
"Not recently." She sighed as well and sat up, crossing her legs.
"Thank you."
"No need."
"Yes, it is needed. You've been nothing but kind to us and all I do is sleep and eat all your bread."
"You are pregnant."
"I know that I just…I hate being useless and not doing anything all day." Charlie pulled himself up onto what was technically his bed and folded his legs so he was sitting cross legged.
"Well I think you still have like two months left of that." It was hard to believe she'd been here nearly a month before Edward thought to look here.
"Has it been four weeks already?"
"Three and a bit."
" Ah. Odd Edward didn't think of you before now."
"I don't think he was looking all that hard. From what I was able to gather from his mad ramblings, he thought Matthew was just hiding you."
"Ah." She said. "How did he find your home number?"
"Same way you did. He found someone who knew I was in Peach Creek at a station somewhere, and he called someone who gave him my number."
"Ah." She repeated. "Sorry." He shrugged.
"Nothing I like more than being purposefully obtuse with a Tyneman."
"Why do you hate him so much?"
"You mean other than the sexual predator thing?"
"Yeah."
"I dunno just something about people with a lot of money that annoys me. And he's a sexual predator. Did I mention that?"
"Maybe in passing." Charlie stood up again and stretched.
"Anyway. I'm going to go finish mowing the lawn and get started on that garden bed."
"It's cold out there."
"Physical work keeps me warm." She must have looked as doubtful as she felt because he rolled his eyes at her in reply. "I will make sure I don't get frost bite." He promised. "Honest."
"Alright. I'm going to get up and get dressed. I'm meeting Jennifer for lunch. She wants to talk baby names with me." Charlie looked concerned but didn't say anything. People in this town were always great defenders of him, she'd noticed. From his in-laws to various others but she was no longer the talk of the town, which she supposed was good for Charlie but he'd never mentioned having problems since that first day. Perhaps he was just trying to protect her and was scared of shocking her into a sudden labor or something like that. Something only Charlie would be concerned about this much she was sure of.
She dressed in the peach dress she'd ended up buying from Jennifer. Since arriving in town she'd spent a lot of time with Charlie's in-laws because one they were kind and two she and Jennifer had a lot in common. As it turned out, Jennifer was a photographer and had even offered to take pictures of Rose. Rose had turned her down, though she couldn't figure out why. Going to her suitcase (she still wasn't unpacked) she picked up a pink headband and tucked it into her hair. She paused to look in her suitcase. She hadn't even brought a coat with her, because that would have tipped Edward off, and yet she'd felt compelled to bring her wedding picture with her. Neither her or Edward look happy in the picture. Her dress is too tight and her veil was pulled into her face in the middle of the kiss by her matron of honor, which is to say Jean. She can't explain her desire to bring it with her. As proof she was married maybe? She sat on the bed and put the picture face down, before looking at her ring. It wasn't the one she had wanted. It was significantly more plain. She'd wanted one with a diamond and she knew perfectly well Edward could afford it.
She went outside, after toeing on her shoes and briefly petting Charlie's cat. Charlie, as he had said, was busy mowing the lawn. Tightly rugged up in a coat and stockings Pamela was sitting on her back poarch drinking from a white cup. She waved as she passed by. Both Charlie and Pamela waved back.
…
Upon her return from lunch, Charlie was finished with the lawn. She went in the house, which was unlocked and found him putting on his coat, freshly showered.
"Going out?"
"Yeah."
"Where?" She asked, figuring she might go with him, after all, she was already dressed to go out.
"Uh…To the graveyard, actually."
"Oh." He gave an awkward semi smile.
"You can uh. Come to. If you want. I mean don't feel compelled I know it's slightly mor-"
"Sure." He perked up slightly, and held the door for her to leave. She noticed he was carrying his work bag over his shoulder.
"And I have to stop and get some flowers from town, if you don't mind."
"It's your trip, I'm just coming along." She assured him, moving to the passenger seat of the car while he went to the drivers side.
True to his word, Charlie purchased flowers, and then they went to the edge of town near the railway track to the surprisingly small graveyard. She supposed in a town of four hundred a death must be very heart breaking but she wouldn't know for certain. After parking, the two made their way up a hill, made two left turns and then stopped in front of a large slate grey stone. It read
'Avery Victory Fisher Davis (1930-1966)
Victoria Astrid Davis (1966)
We Will Meet Again'
There is a space at the bottom probably enough for one more name. She hadn't even known his daughters name up until today.
"Was she named after her mother?" Charlie nodded, and wiped his face slightly. The grave was surrounded by flowers and childrens toys. He opened his bag and sat a small doll on the grave along with the flowers. "You buried them together."
"It's where I'm going to be buried as well." Charlie replied, "With them, forever." In that moment, Rose saw Charlie for what he was, under the layers or stoicism. He was a broken man. A man who loved and lost and was still losing. A tragedy in man form.
"What was she like?"
"She was smart, and funny. She looked like a movie star. I was so surprised that she would be interested in me, but she was. I loved her so much." Charlie said, his voice breaking slightly.
"What happened?" She asked, unable to bare it any longer. She just had to know.
"She was so happy when she found out she was pregnant. So was I. Then when Victoria was born, something went wrong. She was bleeding too much, then she got an infection and her body just gave up. Victoria…Had something wrong with her heart. She was born so early…She was so small they wouldn't even let me hold her…" Rose put her arms around his waist, holding on tight. Charlie, perhaps bravely didn't cry.
"I'm sorry."
"There was nothing that could have been done. All I can do now is come here, bring flowers and hope they know I loved them."
"I'm sure they did." Rose said, unable to find any of her usual energy in a somber moment. She couldn't imagine what that must feel like, losing a child. With any luck, she never would. But that didn't cancel out that he had, did and was feeling the loss of a child. And wife.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because Avery was Black."
"We wouldn't have cared about that."
"Yeah, Lucien maybe. But Jean? I don't know. She picks and chooses what societal conventions she adheres to. Same with Matthew. I lost my own mother. She disowned me because I was going to marry a Black woman and I haven't heard from her since."
"We wouldn't have."
"I didn't know that."
"You should have."
"I didn't think anyone would even care. Like you said. It's like I was never there. I was alone then, and I'm alone now." Rose put her head on his chest.
"No you aren't. You've got me. You've got Jennifer and Chris. That girl Ruth. Jean. Lucien. Matthew. We're all here for you. I promise."
"Thanks." He mumbled, but neither of them felt compelled to leave the grave, not quite yet.
…
Rose is bored. This is not new, she spends a lot of time at Charlie's house, with little to do. At first she'd occupied herself with housework, but quickly found that any jobs she was able to take even the slightest enjoyment from was done by Charlie. He even polished his silverware weekly. Anyway, she didn't like cleaning at all, and according to Charlie, she was so bad at it that he mostly re-cleaned what she cleaned.
With little else to occupy herself with other then Charlie's small collection of books (oddly, they were mostly five pence romance novels), she'd started writing again, something she hadn't done since she got married. Edward had told her she was going to be a housewife and she'd been too scared to disobey. Maybe scared wasn't the right word. She didn't know what the right one was, but she suspected it meant a mix between fear and concern. She wasn't scared of Edward per say, just…Concerned about what he could do to her. And to the baby, perhaps more then what he'd do to her.
Usually, and by usually she meant almost exclusively, she wrote non fiction, she was a journalist after all. But this time around, something felt different. Her words felt…simpler. In fact, it had taken her two weeks to realize that she was writing a childrens novel. The novel featured a young girl who lived with her grandmother and went on strange adventures with the man who lived in their granny flat. It took her a further week to realize that the stories she was writing were based on her fears. The strange man from out the back, named Kaleb Davids, took the girl, Jeanette, to the magical land that he came from the was ruled by an evil king and queen as well as their evil son. Before long she'd written hundreds of words, then thousands.
Charlie was mostly occupied with work. She was surprised at the amount of crime in a small town. Some nights, they called him at home to come and deal with arguments and brawls. Not the semi retirement she'd expected him to be living in out here. According to Charlie, it was drugs and alcohol that made this place the way it was after dark. She found herself adding that into her story, a deadly drug named cold weed that various villians were addicted to.
'Kaleb held his sword out in front of him, keeping it firmly on the prince.
"Your highness."
"Kaleb Davids. I assume you're here to rescue the princess."
"It's what heroes do." He replied, keeping himself firmly between Jeanette and the evil king. The princess, dressed in all white, her long red hair falling around her face like a veil didn't even look up to see them.
"You're no hero Kaleb." The king replied, beginning to circle. "Now give me the girl."
"Not on your life." The tall man replied, one hand firmly on Jeanette's back, keeping her close to his side away from the skeletons that had caught up to them and were dragging themselves into the room. "Give me the princess!"
"Never." The skeletons approach them, and one of their long arms with bony fingers grabs at the bottom of Jeanette's dress. She screamed out and pressed herself harder up against Kaleb.
"It doesn't have to be like this!" Kaleb yelled, "Exposure to the Willow Reef made you like this, all bent up and twisted. Please, spare the girl!" The king falters, his sword halfway up and down. "The princess never hurt you, or anyone else. There's no need for this cruel –'
"You're up late." Charlie commented, opening his fridge and collecting the pitcher of orange juice.
"I could say the same thing about you." She said, looking up from the type writer.
"How's the writing?"
"It's going well, really well. I like writing fiction I think." She smiled.
"Oh, good." He nodded, and brought a glass of orange juice for her as well, he did often after Doctor Grant told her to get more vitamins. He leaned over her shoulder and for a little second she wanted to kiss the side of his lips, or maybe on that freckle on his left cheek she used to be so fond of.
"Why did we stop seeing each other?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.
"Because I was being transferred and you were focused on your career."
"Really? We never even tried long distance?"
"No, if you've learned nothing else about me you should know I'm utterly abysmal at keeping in touch."
"That's fair."
"I wanted to ask you to come with me, but at the time I thought I was only going to Melbourne and well…You wouldn't be able to work there. That was all you really cared about back then, was your job. I was the same, of course. I just wanted to be the commissioner of police before I was forty."
"Alright, that's also true."
"Will you go back to work when the baby is born?"
"I don't know if I'll be able to get work." Charlie made a dismissive hand gesture.
"I can pull some strings and call in some favours at a local paper, if you want." She looked up at him for several moment, then back to her book.
"I think I'd like to finish this first."
"Fair enough." He said, and stood, before taking a long drink from his glass. "I've been doing some thinking about when the baby is born." Rose paused mid sip. She'd purposefully been avoiding thinking of when the baby was born because she had no idea what she was going to do. Charlie was an awfully kind man and he'd bent over backwards to help her but she couldn't and really; shouldn't rely on him forever. She didn't even have any nursery things for the baby yet, she was afraid to ask him to help her buy them because Lord only knows she had no money to buy it herself. She hadn't asked because she was scared he'd say no, even more scared he'd say yes.
"Alright…"
"I kept all of Victoria's nursery things after she…You know." He stops short of saying died. "I know that you don't want my cast offs but they're practically brand new, she never…She never came home. And obviously I'm not using them, they're just…Sitting in boxes. There's everything you could need. Or want I guess. If you want it, of course." Rose was slightly taken aback and a little lost for words, which is unusual for her.
"Really?"
"Yeah." It sounded slightly resigned, like he knew he wasn't going to have any more kids of his own which was unfair. Charlie was still perfectly handsome, he had a nice jaw that had long lost the residual baby fat he'd had when they first met, his eyes were a vibrant blue that spoke of a hundred summers in a lake, he had a smile like a sun shining just for her and she wished with all her heart she could see it more. There was plenty of time for Charlie to remarry and have children of his own and then it hit her.
He didn't want to remarry. And she felt incredibly selfish for wanting to kiss him when he was in love with his wife.
"I'd like that." She said, after a moment, "But it won't fit in this house." She figured now was a good a time as any to bring it up. "And I sure as Hell don't have the money to live anywhere else." Long pause.
"I have a solution to that as well."
"What?"
"I own a house."
"Pardon?"
"The house I brought for myself and Avery after we got married. I still have it. I've been renting it out but it's empty at the moment. You could move there."
"What about you?"
"Certainly you don't want me interfering in your life forever. I'll stay here."
"Is that…You aren't interfering with my life, Charlie. All things considered you very well could have saved it."
"Don't be ridiculous. If I wasn't here you would have gone to Matthew, Lucien has contacts everywhere and Jean would have sold her left foot to protect you."
"Maybe. But I don't want to live there without you."
"Don-"
"No. Don't say don't be ridiculous. I'm not. I want to live with you because I like you. A lot. And I want to be with you. Not you, sitting here every night thinking about work and God." Charlie looked like he might argue but shut his mouth for a moment.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." Rose grinned, and pulled him into a hug. This time, he hugged back, lightly, she presumed because he didn't want to squeeze her to hard. She knew, then and there that she was fucked. She was in love with him.
…
They decided to move into the house the following weekend, after Charlie spoke with Mrs Watson, promising to pay the rent for the rest of his contract, or at least until she could find another tenant. She told him she understood why he was leaving and was happy to help them settle in.
In fact, Rose barely lifted finger that entire weekend. People from all over town came in to help them move the things from Charlie's locker and granny flat to the new old house. Ruth from the station and David, Jennifer and Chris (of course) people she knew from Church and the sewing circle she'd gotten involved in, some shop owners and people she didn't even know by Charlie did.
Under his instruction, the first thing they moved in was his ancient but comfortable couch so Rose could sit and observe the goings on. And in all fairness he was right not to let her help at eight months pregnant and feeling like she was bound to burst at any second. She sat on the sofa, and set one hand on her stomach, directing people as they brought in various items of furniture Charlie owned.
The baby stuff started arriving at lunch, when she was on the sofa, this time joined by Pamela who was tired of helping out in the garden. The first thing that came through the door was a large bassinet with slightly yellowed lace and bows that were pink. She instructed them to take it to the room that would have been Victoria's. She followed after to help decorate the room.
The house itself contained three bedrooms, a kitchen, two entertaining spaces (one was a dining room and the other a living room according to Charlie) and two bathrooms. She quite liked the place, even if it was obviously a rental place for a while. Charlie seemed to like it as well, but he'd had that sad look on his face all day. She wished to kiss it away, but knew better. The baby's room was pastel yellow in colour. Obviously, unsure of the gender of their child they'd opted for a gender neutral colour. There was a small built in wardrobe on the left side of the room and Charlie had left the rocking chair behind. It had white cushions that had faded a little yellow but she didn't mind. It felt like it had charm.
With Pamela's help, they hung up some wall decorations, made up the crib, and lay a rug over the hardwoodfloor. It was a very lovely room, she thought, standing back. Probably not how Charlie had it for Victoria but it was nice all the same and she hoped he would like it as well. Charlie came in after about half an hour.
"Looks nice." He said, picking Pamela up so she could hang the last wall decoration, which was a painting of a rabbit. "I hope all the furniture Is okay!"
"It's wonderful." She assured him, and grinned over at him. "Even the baby is excited."
"Oh! That's good." He said, sounding a little awkward and exactly like the Charlie she knew and loved.
"How is everything else?"
"It's all coming along nicely. Thanks to all the help we should be in by the weekend."
"That's nice." She agreed, and took a seat in the nearby rocking chair.
"Charlie?"
"Yes Miss Pamela?"
"Will you still come over and mow the grass?"
"I don't see why not." He replied, kneeling down to her level. "Do you like it when I mow the grass?"
"You're just fun is all. You play games with me. Grandma always says she's too old to play hopscotch." The mental image of stoic Charlie Davis playing hopscotch with a nine year old girl is pleasing to Rose. Charlie smiled and pulled her into a hug.
"Of course we can still play hopscotch." He promised, before releasing her. She smiled at him, and took his hand. He led her out of the room, probably to find her grandmother.
Rose sat back and looked at the room. Her thoughts drifted to Edward. Did he care? She'd been gone two months now. Was he still looking or was he going to wait for her to come crawling to him on her hands and knees and beg to be taken back. What about Susan and Patrick? Did they want to be involved in the life of their only grandchild? Maybe. But there was nothing that could convince her to weather Edward's cruelty. How about Matthew? She knew deep down that one phonecall from Charlie would have him literally run (even on his bad knee) to Peach Creek. He liked Charlie a lot and the feeling was returned, but would he come back to her? He'd been heart broken when she married Edward. And damn. What about Lucien and Jean?
She began to rock backwards and forwards using her left leg. Sure, she could contact Edward and she would have to in order to get a divorce but did she really want to? Maybe she could stay here forever and he'd never find her. That was unlikely, she'd need another plan. Maybe contact Patrick? He seemed reasonable enough and hadn't really partaken in Susan's hate fest. No, Charlie would up and die before he let any Tyneman into any house he owned, this much she knew. Well Lucien and Jean were a problem easier solved. While Charlie couldn't leave town, there was nothing stopping them from coming here. At all. Matthew wasn't a cop anymore so he could come as well. A proper family reunion. Charlie's mother won't come because she's still mad her son had the (as Charlie described it) audacity to marry a Black woman, but maybe his brothers could be convinced to come? He'd always had a lot of love for them.
But she put all that aside for now and stood, heading to find her manuscript and Charlie to discuss how they were going to feed all these people.
…
Rose went into labour at ten thirty at night. It was Charlie that thought to record the time. Her water broke while they were in bed. One minute she was rehearsing her speech to Edward in her head, only mildly concerned about the minor contractions she had assumed to be Braxton Hicks and then there was a sudden wetness between her legs. Right away she pulled back the sheets scared to see blood. There was no blood. She stumbled to her feet and down the hall to Charlie's room.
Charlie had been grateful to return to sleeping in a bed, sleeping on the couch had not been great for his spine apparently. What had previously been minor contractions did not feel so minor any more.
"Charlie!" She said, throwing open the door.
"Huh? Rose, what?!" He said, sitting up in bed. Rose flicked on the light and clutched her stomach.
"My water just broke." She said, sounding possibly more scared then anything else.
"Holy shit." He said,
"Yeah." She replied.
"Here sit on the bed, I'll call the midwife." She was a week early. Charlie looked panicked, he's probably thinking about his wife. When Avery had been pregnant, they had gone three towns over to the nearest hospital just to be sure. They hadn't been planning to do that, since Charlie had no faith in the hospital. They had a midwife , but she wasn't meant to come here a week early, they would have to call doctor Grant.
"What? Well where is she?!" That did not sound good. "Alright. No, thanks. I'll call…Yes, Thanks!"
"What happened?"
"Doctor Grant is out of town for the night, there was an accident three towns over and they needed more doctors."
"And the midwife?"
"On another call. It'll be ...Tomorrow before she gets here."
"What?!" She demanded, before doubling over and putting a hand on her stomach. Charlie is already back on the phone and she just has to shut and her eyes and try some of those breathing exercises that the books said she should do.
When she returned to paying attention, she turned to look at Charlie, who was still on the phone though she didn't know who with.
"It's three towns over." Pause, "About five hours." He turned to her. "How do you feel about a five hour car trip?"
"I will kill you with my bare hands." She replied, taking in a couple of deep breaths.
"That would be a firm no." He said, down the phone, "Well that'll take three days." She presumed he was talking about the trip out here. You had to take a series of trains and this was the last stop. "Are you fucking crazy doc? I don't know how to deliver a baby." He was talking to Lucien then. It would make sense, she had always thought Charlie would find his way back to them in a crisis. He turned to her and then, as grimly as possible, he said "Rose, I think you might be giving birth here."
Giving birth took exactly eight hours and forty five minutes. Most of that eight hours she spent wandering around the house, before moving to sit back on Charlie's bed. Maybe she should have gone to her room but in all fairness her bed was still wet. Charlie had cleaned most of it up, mopped the floor, put her sheets into the wash and made several hums and hahs about the state of her mattress.
He sterilized blankets in the oven at the doctors instruction. He found her a clean night dress and prepared the bed for the child. While he was busy setting the place up, she spoke to Jean on the phone and she assured her that she'd called Matthew and he was coming out on the first train. Despite herself, she wished in vain that she had a husband who loved her and who she loved pacing outside while waiting desperately for news of his wife. Instead she had strange, slightly neurotic, awkward Charlie Davis. Which wasn't to say she didn't love Charlie. She did. Very much so. Platonic, romantic, emotionally it didn't matter. Not to her. She just wanted to be with him. She was well aware that this was likely just hormones talking
"I don't know how dialated she is I haven't asked." Pause. "Yes I knew I was going to have to look I- Yeah I'm looking." Despite being a sort of red shade that went all the way to his ears and might have been adorable in another life, right now was nothing short of a little frightening.
"I need to look under your dress." An awkward pause. "I'm sorry." She doesn't know why it's not like it's the first time he's seen her naked. But he seemed upset about disrupting her modesty either way.
"Get on with it!" She shouted, as Charlie helped her bring her knees up and pushed the dress up to her stomach. He had a look, frowned a little, and then grabbed the phone, stretching the cord as far as it would go.
"Yes." He said, nodding even though it couldn't be heard. "Don't push yet, Rose." He said, putting his other hand comfortingly on her knee. "Just a little longer."
"Okay." She gasped out, thinking that Charlie must be running up one hell of a phone bill. He looked up from between her legs to smile at her. She thinks she probably isn't looking very beautiful right now.
Frankly, she has no idea how women have more then one child. Maybe it's different in a hospital but she'd never been in this much pain in her life. One hand fisted in the blankets while the other clutched frantically at her stomach.
Eventually, there is a pause from Charlie, followed by the words she'd been desperate to hear.
"Okay Rose, you can push now." And push she did, with all her body and heart. Her muscles strained and for a brief second she considered that she was bringing life into the world. Something good could at least come from Edward then. She can't imagine any child to be born cruel.
"Alright stop, stop pushing." She cried out.
"No, Charlie I have to push I have to-"
"Please just wait." He pleaded, "Now push!" And she did. Charlie reached for his towels and it vanished between her legs. "I have the head." He assured her, though she already knew. "One more push I think." He said, sounding a great deal like he was simply parroting what the doctor had told him to say. So she gave that one last push, and then the great stretch stopped. A few seconds later crying filled the air. She heard a small snip as Charlie cut the cord connecting her to them.
He stood, holding the child in his arms wrapped in the blanket still covered in the waxy substance and a small amount of blood. He set her on her chest.
"It's a little girl." He said, sitting next to her, looking about as bloody and sweat stained as she did. The child was beautiful. She had big blue eyes and a few strands of red hair sitting on her mostly bald head. For a few beautiful moments, it was just the three of them sitting on the bed, Rose holding the baby and Charlie holding her.
…
After successfully giving birth to the after birth and being carried by Charlie into her own room to rest, she only picked up bits and pieces of what happened around the house. At some point Charlie gave the baby a bath, cleaned up his room and found somewhere to store the afterbirth for the midwife to look out without being too disgusting about it.
When she woke up fully she saw a figure by her baby and her motherly instinct kicked into overdrive, forcing her to wake up before realizing that it was only Charlie. And he was crying. She sat halfway up before he noticed her. He looked over and can't help but smile.
"She's so beautiful, Rose." He told her, and came to sit on the bed with her. "Do you have a name picked out for her?"
"I was thinking Elizabeth, after my mother. Elizabeth Victory Davis."
"Pardon?"
"Will you put your name on her birth certificate. Everyone in Ballart knows who her father is, but if Edward ever tries to take her, then he has no legal right to. Please." Beatrice hopped up next to her on the bed and put her chin on Rose's left thigh. Charlie sighed his own sigh and rubbed his face with his hands before nodding.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Alright." He said, and gently pressed her back down onto the bed. "Lucien says you should stay In bed until the midwife gets here."
"I will." She promised, and his hand hesitates on her. Her hand reached up to his face and stroked ever so carefully along his cheek.
"I love you, Charlie Davis." She said, softly. Charlie kept looking at her, and then leant down to her, and pressed a warm kiss against her lips, and pulled back. He tastes like blood from the inside of his bitten lips but Rose has never had a sweeter kiss in her life.
"I love you, Rose Anderson. Or Rose Tyneman. Rose whoever-the-fuck." She smiled, and beckoned him in for a second kiss.
…
Matthew, Lucien and Jean arrived three days later, fresh from the train and armed with the address Rose had given them. Charlie was blustering around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to make the place even more clean and fresh. Clearly he was scared of being seen as unworthy. Rose, for her part, was on the couch holding Lizzie while he dusted the handful of photographs she'd allowed him to keep.
"What if they don't like the room?"
"They'll like the room. "
"What if they notice the ash stains on the carpet?"
"They won't, and if they do they won't care."
"I don't have any whiskey. Rose, we don't have any whiskey."
"Well yes, I hate the stuff and you don't drink.'
"What is the doctor going to think?"
"That you don't drink probably."
"Oh God." Rose rolled her eyes at him and looked down at the baby, who was awake and seemingly very invested in staring at her.
"Your daddy is a silly man." She informed the child.
"Are you speaking badly of me to a baby?" He asked, dusting his wedding photo for the tenth time.
"She doesn't talk back." Rose replied, amused. "Stop worrying, they won't care. They miss you."
"Yeah. Right." Before Rose can bite back, there is a knock at the door. Charlie sighed and gave her one last look before standing and going to the door.
There is a creak as the door opens, then a sort of colliding noise and a grunt from Charlie.
"Yeah, Doc, I'm glad to see you as well." He spluttered before inviting them into the living room. Jean right away rushed over to have a look at the baby while Matthew opted to speak with Charlie.
"She's so beautiful, Rose." Jean said, sitting next to her. Rose allowed her to take hold of the child and admire her. She was a very beautiful child, she had soft red hair and big blue eyes. Charlie said that she looked like Rose herself with her tiny peaked nose. Jean was cradling the child expertly, and smiling at her. Lizzie replied by gurgling slightly, as babies often do.
"Her name is Elizabeth Victory Davis."
"Davis?"
"Officially, she belongs to Charlie and I. She's not going to be Edward's daughter."
"Is that wise?"
"Yes." She looked up to see Charlie conversing with his friends, grinning from ear to ear. They conversed for a long time, everyone taking a turn to hold Lizzie. Matthew even cried, which she found touching.
They had lunch together, and the plan was for Lucien and Jean, as well as Matthew, to stay for a few days before heading home. Charlie had put Lucien and his wife in the spare room and Matthew in his bed while he slept with Rose. Originally, he had wanted to take the couch but she told him he was a fool and it would only hurt his back. She was damn right.
As they packed away the dishes, there was a knock at the door. Charlie stood, and went to get it. Rose left Lizzie with Jean and trailed after, hiding in the room to the left of the landing. He opened the door and paused.
"Mister Tyneman." Rose has never been one for religion. For all the church sessions and time spent with her sewing circle, Rose had never picked up on it. Not like Charlie had, but she prays in that moment for some miracle to occur.
"I'm not a good man." It's Patrick then. Charlie replied by making a noise that was affirmative.
"True." He sighs.
"My father taught me three things. Business, how to be in control and to put your family first. Rose Anderson's baby is my family." He said, "My wife and son want no part in it but I don't think I could live my life not at least seeing the baby once. And to apologize, to Rose." Charlie remained stationary. He can't stand Tynemans, which one it was made little to no difference to him. She emerged from the shadows to see him.
He turned to her, seeing Charlie as reasonable as a brickwall.
"I suppose you heard all that."
"I did."
"The baby is my grandchild. I'll only ever have one of those."
"Maybe." Patrick seems…As close as a man like him could be to humble.
"I was a terrible father to my son. I suppose my being here is me being a terrible husband. But I…Would like to at least see her."
"I don't think you were a terrible father." Charlie said, and Patrick turned to him. "I just think you were absent. If anything, the lengths you've gone to in order to protect Edward prove you aren't as bad as people would have you." Another, longer pause. "And I suppose we do owe you one, seeing how you helped get rid of Munro and got Rose a job at the paper." Rose raised her eyebrows, and then nodded.
"Alright. Come on in, Patrick. Her name is Elizabeth Victory Davis, but we call her Lizzie. With an ie." If Patrick was surprised the child didn't have his name he doesn't show it.
A pin could have dropped when they brought him into the room.
"How did you get here?" Blake asks, ever the extender of the olive branch.
"I knew Sergeant Davis was stationed at Peach Creek. When all three of you left at once I knew why."
"Why are you here?" Matthew.
"Because I want to see my granddaughter. And to apologize for the way my family has treated Miss Anderson." She's grateful he hasn't called her Mrs Tyneman.
"We do owe him one." Charlie reminds everyone, "And he is her grandfather. I would have given my left foot to have had my grandparents around. I can't see how one more family member will hurt anyone." Rose has never known Charlie to be so diplomatic. Perhaps he could sense the delicate situation. He follows that with "Lizzie is Rose's baby. It's her choice who is and isn't in her life." He walked to Jean, collected Lizzie and offered her to Patrick. "Would you like to hold her?"
Rose can't help but smile when replies.
"I'd be honoured."
…
EPILOUGE
"Charlie! Today's the day!" With a grunt, he rolled over to face her.
"Is it?"
"Arse. Get up before we're late." He does, but not before giving her a kiss on the lips. Rose smiled good naturedly and got to her feet. He followed after, moving behind her and putting his hands on her hips.
"See something you like?" She asked and he did. He loved her so much. Kissing her cheek, Charlie went to the door of their hotel room and took his formal uniform off the back of the door. Complete with medals and shiny buttons. He already missed Peach Creek. Anything that required a formal uniform was usually not fun. Rose ignores him in favour of selecting a nice dress from the three she brought.
"I like this one." The selected dress was peach with short sleeves similar to the one she had worn while pregnant with Lizzie. (it seemed so long ago)
"It's fine." He said, doing up his buttons.
"You could show a little interest."
"I don't know anything about fashion Rose you know that."
"Don't I." She scoffed, and tugged the dress over her head before moving to hair and makeup. Moving behind her again Charlie smiled and kissed her cheek.
"I like the fringe."
"I didn't get it for you." She said, "I missed it. Wasn't used to seeing my forehead. Hated it."
"I like your forehead."
"Yes but you like everything about me so that doesn't count."
"Not true. I don't like when you steal the sheets." She scoffed and went back to applying some makeup products that he doesn't know the name of.
…
It was a hot day out, he thought, following after Rose. Matthew was standing among the chairs also dressed in his formal uniform looking rather pleased. Lucien and Jean were nearby and Patrick was already sitting. Despite his initial fears, Patrick had turned out to be a rather good grandfather. He wasn't around often and when he was he usually brought toys that would give him and Rose a few minutes of piece. Rose passed him their other daughter, Jenny to hold. Jennifer and Chris made their way over to the party as well, also smiling quite happily.
As they took their seats, Jennifer nudged him.
"I think Avery and Victoria would be very proud of her."
"I agree." He whispered back.
"And of you." He paused to look at her, then kissed her cheek and attempted to settle a rather fussy child in his lap for the presentation.
Police Academy graduations were long and tedious at best, he remembered being bored almost to death at his own and this one was no different. But when it was time to clap, there was no doubt that Lizzie Davis's family were the loudest and proudest there.