A/N: I must say this story has been a long time coming. I wrote this for Isis the dog for their birthday. I hope this has everything you were looking for my friend. Thank you so much for always being a supportive part of our ship's community. This fandom would truly be lacking if you weren't a part of it. So, I hope you enjoy this two part story. :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The air felt fresh and chilly as Autumn began to make itself known. The bright blue, cloudless sky added to the vibrancy the season brought as people walked up and down the footpaths of Downton village. It wasn't unusual for the town to be more congested on a Saturday. Parents were out and about with their children, others were bustling in and out of shops as they looked for certain items or new treasures, and some, like Anna Smith, enjoyed going to the local coffee shop.
Anna lived in a world where tea reigned, but several years prior she had grown to love the bold, rich taste of coffee. Almost every Saturday she would make her way from her home midday and walk into the village in pursuit of the hot beverage and treat to go with it, which was exactly where she was headed now. She enjoyed the leisurely stroll on her routine route, passing by the bookshop, florist, and postal service on her left, and the bakery, bank, hardware shop on her right. Downton was a small county that was growing, and just a few blocks away were the much larger buildings which lead into the downtown area. When the familiar light gray door came into view she smiled contentedly before making her way inside.
There were several reasons why The Roasted Bean was one of her favorite places. The shop was a wonderful place for a pick me up. The large shop front windows allowed natural light to flood the room, which made the space seem even larger with all the light wood, white and gray furniture, and greenery adorning the inside. The white and gray exposed brick added just a touch of old world charm, which she adored. It felt so light and airy yet cozy and welcoming. For her, it was easy to lose track of time while there.
The shop was usually quieter at midday after all the morning coffee drinkers had left to start their day, so she had no trouble placing her order and received it quickly. With coffee and banana nut muffin in hand, she made her way across the shop to find a seat along the small bar in the front window. She loved to look out at the world passing her by or read in the light the window offered. She was delighted to see the bar area to be empty. The other patrons opted for sitting on the couches or together at tables. Walking to the last low backed stool in the corner, she saw a leather bound book lying on the bar. She looked around for a brief moment to see if anyone was coming back to the same spot. When she didn't see anyone she placed her items down next to the book and took a seat on the stool. She carefully placed her handbag up against the wall on the bar and slid the book a little further away from her food and drink. While still looking at the book, she carefully picked up her mug and took a short sip. It was still very hot, so she placed it back down and placed one hand on the cover of the book. The leather wasn't exactly new but it wasn't well worn either. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, so she gently opened up the book to look inside.
Her eyes widened when she realized what it was she was looking upon. It was someone's journal.
On the left inside cover was written, John Bates 2018.
Her eyes drifted to the first page on the right and noticed at the very top the date, 1 Jan., was the first entry. She wondered if this John Bates had a journal for every year, or if this had been a new hobby of theirs. Either way, she could not stop herself from reading the first entry.
Taking up her mug again, she took a sip and began to read.
1 Jan.
It's the first day of 2018. With any new year it's supposed to represent a new start, a fresh outlook. I've needed the latter for a while even though I have acquired the former. From where I left off the last time, I am still settling in to living in Downton. It's a nice area and with my new job I don't really have any room to complain about anything. I am very fortunate to be where I am and living the life I am now. So many things have changed while some have stayed the same. I shall make the best of the coming year. I hope to see new things and have new experiences. Only time will tell what this year will bring. I'm hoping for prosperity, joy, and dare I say it possibly love, though I would never share that with anyone. Yes, maybe this new start will bring about a new outlook. Maybe, for once, I am ready to accept the unknown. Here's to the New Year.
The corners of her mouth quirked upward into a small smile. It seemed as though he had indeed wrote in more than one journal. Taking a longer drink of her coffee, she slowly turned the page to see he had written the following days as well with each day taking up a page. A slight rush coursed through her at the thought of reading the thoughts of a man she had never met. Placing her mug back on the bar, she looked around yet again to make sure this John Bates wasn't in the room. Feeling confident he wasn't, she flipped several pages until she stopped on a random page.
5 Feb.
Another Monday for the books. I didn't get the chance to write at lunch time today. I had too many manuscripts to get through. The longer I'm in my job the more I am enjoying it. I never thought I'd end up in publishing, but I admit it fits me well. When reading is a passion it doesn't really feel like work. I had way too much coffee today and not enough to eat. I am still feeling the caffeinated buzz and it's nearing 20.30. Anyway, I'm thinking I may treat myself to a trip to the theatre soon. There are so many new plays on the horizon. I'll need to remember to take a look at which one I'd like to see most. It's a shame I don't know really anyone who enjoys going. I won't let that stop me from going. Well, there isn't much more to write about today. I'll watch the telly until my caffeine haze wears off.
Well, Mr. Bates was in publishing. It made sense in a way for, more than likely, an editor to keep a journal. It piqued her interest that he enjoyed both coffee and the theatre as she enjoyed both as well. She had a hard time imagining anyone not wanting to go. She wondered which play he ended up watching, but knew she didn't have the time to read every entry. She broke off a piece of her muffin and placed it in her mouth. Methodically, she wiped her fingertips on a napkin so she wouldn't leave any smudges on the pages. She turned several more pages and stopped on another one, because well, now she couldn't resist.
17 Mar.
Happy St. Patrick's Day or as they say in my native land Lá fhéile Pádraig sona dhuit. The festivities are on a Saturday this year, which means instead of green beer only flowing in the evening it will be flowing all day. Not that I will be knocking them back. I've had my fill of ale for a lifetime, but I wouldn't mind taking a stroll around the village. I'm sure there will be plenty to see and do. I had a phone call from my mother earlier this morning telling me to stay out of trouble. Even at 38, she still scolds me as though I were a lad. I keep telling her she should move to England, but she won't hear of it. I guess I get my stubbornness honestly. Looks like it should be a good weekend. I'm off to enjoy the day.
The more she read of John Bates the more fascinated she became. Could he truly be a real person? A bloke who has a good relationship with his Irish mother and seems to be responsible? He just sounded so easy going, and with the way he wrote he seemed like he would be easy to talk to. An Irishman aged thirty-eight that loved reading, the theatre, and coffee? He almost seemed to good to be true.
Lifting her mug again, she turned a few more pages.
John Bates laid a manuscript down on his desk, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had just gotten back from lunch not too long ago and had to go back to reading the manuscript he had left half read before he took his break. He leaned back in his office chair and sighed. He loved his work. Well, most of the time. It was harder for him to complete his task when the manuscript was a real terror to read like this one. He always wanted to give the author the courtesy of reading their work, but he knew this one would not be recommended for publishing. If one was going to insist on writing a fiction tale about cats going to outer space, then by George it better be captivating. Unfortunately for this piece, captivating would be one of the last words he would use to describe it.
A knock at his office door made him drop his hand and answer, "Come in."
When the door opened, he saw it was his friend and editor, Robert Crawley.
"Do you mind if I come in?"
"No. Have a seat," John waved him in.
Robert closed the door and walked the short distance to one of the chairs in front of John's desk and sat down.
"How's that cat book?" Robert nodded towards the stack of bound papers.
"Terrible."
"I still don't see why you waste your time reading it if you're not going to send if off for proofreading."
John laughed, "I think Edith secretly appreciates I don't send her this stuff."
"Probably. Why not just toss it in the no pile?"
"If it were my work, I would want someone to read it in its entirety. I only have a few more chapters anyway."
Robert smirked, "Have they at least made it to their destination yet?"
"Nope," John replied as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. "Too many "Cat"astrophies."
"What?" Robert asked through a belly laugh.
"I have no idea."
"Well, I guess I should be glad my assistant editor screens these manuscripts thoroughly, otherwise our publishing house wouldn't be doing as well as it is. I still owe you dinner out for having to work a few Saturdays. Just let me know when you're free, and we'll plan it."
"Will do."
"How was lunch? Cora is making me try this thing called Keto. It's horrible. If she wanted to turn me into a bird or a rabbit she should just say so. I'll have to live vicariously through you until things go back to normal."
John moved in his chair and collected his backpack.
He placed it on his desk and said, "I actually have tried this place called The Roasted Bean a few times now. I brought back a menu because they deliver."
"And you did that so I could possibly sneak food into the office without Cora knowing?" Robert asked with a hopeful look.
John grinned, making Robert grin as well.
"Good man," Robert praised.
John unzipped his bag. Looking inside, he grabbed the takeaway menu and noticed something missing. He lifted the couple of folders inside to see his journal was not where it was supposed to be. Sudden panic overcame him as he realized he must have left it at the coffee shop.
Without haste, John zipped his backpack, handed Robert the menu, and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Robert asked as John crossed the room and shrugged his coat and hat on. He then slung his backpack on as well.
"I seem to have forgotten something at the coffee shop. I'll be back."
John didn't even wait for a reply as he opened the door and got inside a lift. When the doors opened back up he was on the main floor. As he walked across the lobby, he realized he had left his cane back in his office. When had he ever left it behind? Probably never, but he was so focused on getting his journal he wouldn't go back up to retrieve it.
His feet carried him outside and in the direction of the cafe. He hoped it was still there. How thoughtless of him to carelessly leave it behind. His journals had everything in them from random musings about his days to his feelings. He had written things that he hadn't readily shared with others. That was the purpose of keeping a journal. What if it was gone when he got there? Horror struck him at the thought, so he shook his head and walked as best he could without his walking stick to hopefully collect his journal.
Her mug and plate were now empty, but Anna was still flipping through the diary. She was transfixed reading about the unknown man and his life. She had never really considered keeping a journal, but maybe she should. It would be interesting for someone someday to read about her life. She would keep it in mind. She turned a couple more pages.
1 May
May is a beautiful time of year isn't it? Not too hot or too cold. Flowers in bloom or ready to. It's definitely one of the best months of the year. I feel as though I'm looking a little worse for wear. A haircut may be in order. I don't have a lot to work with physically, so what I do have I need to keep looking presentable. I might even indulge in getting a shave. The house is quiet tonight. Not that it isn't every other night, but I must admit it would be nice to have some company right now. I've never really been one to put myself out there since I've never really had much to offer, but I guess it's natural to miss companionship sometimes. Maybe the haircut and shave will help in that department, though I doubt it. Life is what it is though isn't it? It guides us where it wants to take us. Well, enough for tonight. Tomorrow is a new day.
She felt some of her heartstrings pull. It was obvious he didn't have anyone to share his life with, which she could very much relate. She didn't have a significant other either. Too many times she had thought her place was too quiet, so she could understand how he felt. It didn't sit well with her that he had a pattern of putting himself down. Maybe part of the process of the entries was to help him with that, or at least she hoped. Looking at her wrist watch she was shocked to see how long she had been sitting there reading. She had been so engulfed she hadn't realized just how long she had been in the same spot. It had been easy to do. John Bates was a very interesting man who didn't mind sharing his emotions, thoughts, and feelings, even if it were only with himself. She turned a good bit and settled on a new page.
22 May
Good afternoon. I am stuck in my office because the weather is filthy. I have no desire to get drenched by the rain. It's lunch time, and I didn't come prepared. So, it is break room coffee and a bag of crisps from the vending machine. I really should go food shopping. An Irish stew sounds good even if Summer is around the corner. Might even tempt myself with some crusty bread. Now I'm just making myself hungry, so the shop it is after work. Speaking of work, I've read a few promising novels this week. I'm hoping they do well. Since I've started here it seems as though the company is doing better, or so Robert tells me. It's rather nice to work for/with a friend. I'm grateful for it really. He gave me a new start when he didn't have to. I owe him more than I can ever repay, so I will always do my best to perform my duties to the best of my ability. That's the least I can do for him. Well, this horrid coffee isn't going to drink itself. I really am in need of a good place to find decent coffee. Maybe I'll stumble across a place soon.
He had most certainly found a great place for coffee. In her opinion, there was no place better than The Roasted Bean, so he had accomplished that task. She knew it also had to be a great place to write as well. He had obviously picked this exact same place to enjoy his coffee, look out into the world, and write down his thoughts. The thought of that made her smile as she looked over his distinctive handwriting. The way he shaped certain letters, and how the sentences seemed to slant slightly to the right on the page made the script more intimate. She had never really thought of a handwriting to be like a fingerprint, but that was exactly what came to mind when she looked over it. This was John Bates' fingerprint about his life, and what a beautiful one it was too.
She gasped and pressed a hand against her chest when she looked up to see a man standing in the window looking at her. His eyes were looking straight into her soul, and he was trying to catch his breath. He was bundled into a black woolen pea coat with a matching black flat cap. She couldn't help the tingle she felt the longer she looked at his face. He was clean shaven, had strong facial structure, and his eyes... His eyes gave him away. It was then she knew she was staring at John Bates, the man who she had been reading about for over an hour. He was standing on the pavement like he was frozen to the spot as she absentmindedly touched his handwriting, his fingerprint. He was there studying her through the glass as a faint pink blush formed on his neck. He had nothing whatsoever to be embarrassed about. She saw this as an odd twist of fate. Maybe she was supposed to find this book or rather find John Bates. Maybe she would never had truly understood him without a sneak peek into who he really was. The sneak peek wasn't enough however, now she needed to know more.
She hadn't expected to find him attractive so immediately, especially from the way he wrote about himself. God, he was handsome. He had nothing to worry about in the looks department. He was tall, sturdy build, and had this mysterious aura about him that had her feeling things in places a lady would not divulge upon just laying eyes on someone. She had no idea how long they had been staring at each other. It could have possibly been seconds or minutes, but it seemed like neither wanted to be the first to break whatever connection they had between them.
She felt a sudden pang of guilt at reading his personal diary. She watched his facial features change and thought she saw anger there. She hoped he wasn't too upset by her reading it though, if someone had read her private thoughts while she was still alive without permission, she guessed she would be upset too. He had come back to retrieve his journal after he noticed it missing, and now she had to face the real life John Bates. All she could think was what a pleasure it would be to actually talk to him.
Her wish was on the verge of coming true when he was the first to break eye contact. He turned and walked unsteadily to the shop door. She briefly wondered if that was because of his heightened emotions, but couldn't linger on that when he entered the room. He slowly but determinedly walked over to her direction. She closed the journal and made her way shakily to her own feet to face him. She felt her heart pound a little harder and her nerves felt more on edge as he stopped only a couple of steps in front of her.
He was almost completely out of breath by the time he saw the shop come into view. He was going to pay for his carelessness later. He had forgotten his journal, which in turn made him forget his cane. Good thing tomorrow was Sunday. He'd need the day off to recuperate. He slowed his pace the closer he got so he could try to calm his breathing. He didn't need to go into the shop a panting mess.
Saying a little mantra in his head about how he hoped his journal was still there, he came up to the first window and saw a woman sitting where he had sat earlier. She had long blonde hair, a petite frame, and even though her head was pointed downward he could see the hint of a smile on her face. Too bad he hadn't went out for lunch later that day. She was absolutely beautiful.
His eyes shifted to where her eyes were looking and panic seized him. He saw the familiar pages filled with his writing. She was reading his journal. He felt his pulse quicken despite him no longer walking. She was reading his inner most thoughts! His hopes, desires, feelings, and dreams! A sudden burst of anger ran through him. Did she not care that this was someone's private property? How could she read it after finding out it was a diary?
His anger suddenly dissolved as she looked up, and her eyes met with his. She appeared to have been caught off guard by the way her hand flew to her chest, but he had barely noticed. His focus was on how her eyes looked into his. It felt as though she were looking at him, truly looking at him. It was like she could already see who he really was, and that honestly scared him. No one had ever looked at him the way she was right then. Did she know the journal was his? By the way he was staring at her, she had probably figured it out. How much of it had she read? How much did she now know? His anger flared up a little again at the thought of his privacy being violated, though it didn't reach near the same level after he had looked her fully in the face.
Needing the answers he was seeking, he broke their almost trance-like stare and limped over to the shop door. He didn't even know what to feel as he made his way over to her, but when she stood to her feet he felt a sensation he was sure he had never felt. She was probably a foot shorter than him, and her eyes were filled with mixed emotions. He imagined his were as well.
He stopped a couple of steps in front of her.
Taking a steadying breath, he said, "I believe you may have something of mine."
He watched her steady herself as well as she replied, "Are you John Bates?"
"I am. May I ask who you are?"
"Anna. Anna Smith."
"Well, Miss Smith, would you mind handing me my personal property?"
He had said it more harshly than he had intended. It was more out of embarrassment than anything else. He was burning with embarrassment because he knew first hand the kinds of things he wrote in there. Had she read he wanted to find love? Had she read how insecure he felt at times? Had she read he had a temper?
"Yes, of course," she flustered as she reached for the book.
She handed it to him, and he sighed as he gripped the leather covering.
"I apologize for intruding, Mr. Bates, but I must say I find your entries to be fascinating."
His brow knitted together as he looked to her.
"There's no need to try to make me feel better, Miss Smith."
"Please, call me Anna, and I'm not trying to flatter you. I found your words to be so sincere I wondered if you might actually be real."
What was she really saying? Was she saying she enjoyed reading it? Was she being sarcastic? He wrote about his days and what they contained. It was hardly a literary classic.
"Well, I am, and I'm sure you've learned several awkward ,and not to mention embarrassing, things about me."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stated, "I know I don't know you, Mr. Bates, but you don't have a single thing to be embarrassed about. In fact, we have similar things in common both in hobbies and emotions."
This admission made heat crawl up his neck and spill onto his cheeks. Just the idea of someone poking around in his mind made him wish the floor to swallow him up.
"I'm sure that can't be true," he insisted.
"Just as I don't know you, you don't know me. I would like you to know I don't lie readily."
He stammered as he responded, "I... apologize I... didn't mean to suggest that-"
Anna gently cut him off.
"It's okay."
A quick silence fell between them, and right before John was going to suggest he leave. She spoke first.
"If you don't have to rush off, would you join me for a coffee?" She asked sweetly.
John felt his stomach hit the floor. Even after her reading about him she still wanted to be in his company? Surely the opposite should be happening with her screaming and running away from him.
He must have been staring at her glittering eyes for too long without replying because she said, "It's okay. I understand I've offended you."
"No," he replied in a rush, one hand reaching out to touch the air between them.
"You've not offended me. I just don't really know how to feel. Are you sure you wish to remain in my company?"
He waited with baited breath to hear her answer. He felt his cheeks flare again as she smiled at him.
"Oh, I am sure, Mr. Bates."
"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Did he really just internally quote a Queen song?" He thought to himself.
"I'll gladly order us both a cup. It's the least I can do after my nosiness," she offered.
What could it hurt to stay for a bit? She had already read a lot of it anyway.
"That would be nice. Thank you."
"How do you take your coffee, Mr. Bates?"
"Just black."
She giggled, and it sounded heavenly.
"The exact opposite from how I take mine."
She then collected her purse and as she walked past him said, "Be right back."
He turned and watched her walk to the counter. He knew he should be getting back to work, but surely Robert wouldn't mind. It was a Saturday after all, and that cat book wasn't going to make the company any money anyway. Turning back around, he laid his journal onto the bar. He shrugged off his backpack and laid it on the stool next to the one he would be occupying. He then took off his flat cap and placed it on top of his backpack. He sat down and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't want to have hat hair after all. It only took a minute more before she was placing both their mugs onto the surface in front of them.
She adjusted herself back onto her seat and turned slightly so she could see him better.
He smiled at her shyly as his left hand curled around the handle of the mug.
"I have found the coffee is splendid here," he commented.
Out of all the words he could have said; he chose splendid. Why not good, nice, or great?
"It really is. This is one of my favorite places. I find myself coming here most Saturdays," she replied conversationally.
Feeling a bit timid of how to proceed, he took a drink from his mug instead. He focused on the robust blend invading his mouth as words failed him. He was never really good at talking with women. Well, never wasn't really the truth. He had been good at it a long time ago, or at least he had thought. This was quite a different situation though because she was a stranger, yet she already knew things about him.
"What brought you here today?" she asked.
"Didn't get to read today's entry then?" He retorted with a hint of humor.
His humor must not have came through clearly because she dropped her head to look at her drink. It immediately resonated with him that he didn't like seeing her feeling guilt.
"I'm truly sorry, Mr. -"
He interrupted her as politely as he could.
"Please, Anna. I'm the one who's sorry. It was a badly timed joke, and also I would prefer to be called John."
This seemed to catch her attention as she raised her head to meet this gaze once more.
She gave him a small smile and said, "Okay, John."
He must have looked like an idiot the way a smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth. The way she said his name made him feel... well... giddy. Had he ever felt giddy before?
"In answer to your question, I had to work today, so I stopped here for my lunch break."
"Working on a Saturday?"
"Yes," he replied. "I work for Downton Publishing, and we've been trying to catch up with so many manuscripts coming in. You probably already knew that though."
"I did find out what you do, but I didn't know where. It's a good possibility I don't know as much as you think I do. I just skipped around. I didn't start at the beginning and go straight through. What manuscript you working on today?"
He chuckled, "It's about a cat going to outer space. It's horrible."
"That's my story," she dead pans.
He felt tongue tied all of a sudden. He had read who the author was hadn't he?
"I'm having you on."
She giggled, and it made him relax. She looked beautiful when she laughed.
"You like to tease I see."
"And don't you?" She quipped back.
"I do on occasion," he smirked.
"Mhm."
They both lifted their mugs to their lips, took a generous sip, and placed them back down.
"Am I keeping you from returning to work?"
"No," he responded a little too quickly.
He knew he was caught out when she tried to hide a grin. Why did he feel like a teenage boy who was speaking to a girl for the first time?
"Well, would you mind if I go ahead and give you my number? I know I can't keep you here the rest of the day, and I would very much like to have a longer discussion. Also, I would like to treat you to dinner."
"There's no need. You don't owe me anything. The apology and coffee is enough."
After he finished saying what he said, he kicked himself. Did he just turn down getting her phone number, and what could have possibly been a date?
"But," he quickly continued.
He turned and unzipped a small front pocket in his backpack. Procuring a pen, He turned back and laid the pen in front of her.
"It would be a pleasure to have that longer conversation."
She readily took the pen in her grasp.
"I mean I do know things about you. It's only fair that you should learn some things about me."
"A very valid point."
An idea came to him, and he opened his journal. He stopped when he came to the next blank page which would be for that day's entry and slid the book in front of her.
"You want me to write it in here?" She asked tentatively.
He nodded his consent.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure as long as you write the date up at the top first."
She hesitated a couple of times, keeping her eyes trained on his in case it looked like he was going to back out. He gave her no such sign, so she dropped her eyes to look at the page.
No one had ever written in his journals before not to mention read them. This for whatever reason felt right though.
He watched as she carefully wrote the date up at the top. It warmed him that she was taking such great care in making sure it looked nice.
When she was done writing she laid the pen down and slid the book back in front of him.
He looked down to see a beautiful script upon the page.
9 Oct.
Anna Smith 07700 900000
What he wouldn't mention was that would be the only thing written for that day.
"I feel rather bad now for writing in your journal," she admitted.
He closed the journal and looked to her.
"Please don't. I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't have wanted you to," he assured.
"Okay then," she said before lifting the mug to her lips.
They both took a few sips before she spoke again.
"Well, I better be off. I have a few things to accomplish. Will you ring me if you decide you'd like to meet up again?"
"Um... yes."
His hesitation was not on making up his mind whether he'd like to see her again; it was why this was happening and why she would want to see him again.
He just had to throw it out there.
"Though I'm sure you've already found out more than enough. Please don't feel obligated to make things right. I promise it's all right."
She collected her purse and when she turned she was the closest she had been to him yet.
"Believe me, seeing you again would not be an obligation."
She stood and smiled, "As I said I found your entries to be fascinating, John."
At that, she walked away from the bar and towards the exit. It was as if he didn't have control over his own body as his head turned to watch her walk away. She looked over her shoulder once to catch him staring, which put a beaming smile on her face. He felt himself turn crimson right before she left the shop.
"What the bloody hell took you so long?" Robert bellowed as John sat back down at his desk.
Robert flopped down in the seat across from him as he awaited a response.
"I left something at that cafe a gave you a menu for, and I ran into someone while there. It would have been rude to not chat for a bit. When we were done I came back here," he replied as casually as he was able.
"You ran into someone? Anyone I know?" Robert pried.
"No, just an acquaintance," he insisted.
That's what she was now wasn't it? An acquaintance? Especially since she read his journal.
"This acquaintance must be good looking because you're not usually one for small talk."
"Much like the kind we are having right now," he retorted.
"Yes. Well."
"I'm going to finish up this cat thing, do some paperwork, and call it a day."
"So you can go meet your acquaintance again?" Robert asked cheekily.
John simply gave him a stare, and he backed off.
"Okay. Okay. I'll leave you to it."
A few hours later, John finished his work and set off towards home.
He had to walk back through the village to get to his cottage, which made him wonder if he had passed by Anna before without realizing. Surely, he would have noticed someone as radiant as her unless he had been trapped in his own thoughts, which was often.
He found himself stopping in front of the window to the coffee shop only for a few seconds. Was it odd he wished she had been there again? Shaking his head, he walked away from the shop and down the lane.
When he got home he went about his usual routine. He sat his backpack in one of the kitchen chairs. He hung up his coat and hat on the hooks by the door, leaned his cane in the corner, and then he turned on the telly. He mainly used it for background noise, and now more than ever he didn't want to sit in complete quiet as he tried to gather his thoughts. Walking back over to his backpack, he unzipped it and collected his journal. He felt his knee protest as he sunk down onto the sofa. He knew him dashing to the shop earlier would do him no favors that night. He should have never left without his cane, but if he had gone back to get it, what if he had missed her? What if they had never met, and she had taken his journal with her?
Now that he had met her, he couldn't bear to think it. He opened the book to the page she had written on and stared at it. He reflected on her reaction to meeting him face to face. She could have easily laughed at him or perhaps worse felt sorry for him. She could have grimaced and handed him the book without saying much and left. She could have even damaged it or added cruel notes to it's pages, but she hadn't done any of those things. No, she had reacted surprisingly.
He could not recall a time in his life when he had been called fascinating. He knew his name and that word didn't belong in the same sentence, but she had used the word twice. She had been openly apologetic, and she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him more. What were the odds? If he had told himself that morning he would leave his journal and then meet a woman like Anna Smith, he would have told himself he was mad. But here he was staring at her name and the number that would connect him with her.
He should leap at the chance as he knew most men would. He couldn't help but let nagging doubts cloud what should be his clarity. There were so many things she didn't know about him. He knew a few things he hadn't talked about in his latest journal. If she had read the past few years he was sure she would not have given him her number, but he didn't know anything about her either. She had even said herself it would only be fair for him to get to know her since she knew some things about him.
Would he appear too eager if he called today?
The last thing he wanted was to appear desperate. No, the last thing he wanted was for her to think he wouldn't call, but he wouldn't do it that night. He didn't know what she did for a living, but he just assumed she had Sundays off. He would take the night to think things though and process what had happened.
Someone had read his diary, and for some reason he didn't mind it was her.
When she had left the coffee shop she had to quickly go around the block so she could have a moment to herself. She let out a deep breath as she thought about what had happened.
She had been rather bold.
It was crazy to think, but it was like the words on the pages had come to life. In a way, she guessed that was exactly what had happened. He was tall, handsome, and had soft tender eyes that only tried to appear angry. The only reason she had cut their conversation short was because she was sure she was going to mess up by trying to kiss him. She felt so drawn to the man from the pages that she couldn't trust herself not to blow it. He had captivated her from the moment she looked through the window. He had been kind; kinder than she had anticipated. He had already forgiven her for breaking his privacy, and he didn't even know her.
She let out a small giggle at her own forwardness. How she had managed to appear so calm she didn't know. On the inside she had felt like a nervous wreck. She had put herself out there more than once. She had asked him to stay for a cup of coffee. He could have declined and hated her for reading his diary. Also, she had asked to see him again without exactly saying so. When was the last time she had asked a bloke out even if she had beaten around the bush about it? She couldn't remember a time when she had, but there was something about John Bates that made her throw caution to the wind.
She had been shocked her hand didn't shake when she wrote in the journal. My, what a moment that was. The symbolism behind it was much more complex than she had the focus to deal with for now. She felt even more drawn to him because of it.
After feeling as though she could be steady on her feet, she walked down the lane in the direction of her home.
Later that evening, she had finished up some chores and was now curled up in front of the telly with her mobile phone laying on the armrest of the sofa. She glanced at it ever so often wondering if he might call or text her. It had been hours now since they had met, and she had hoped he would call. She knew she was being silly. Who would immediately call someone who had dived into their private world? She was sure he needed time to think about everything. Maybe he would decide he couldn't look past it after all and not call. It wouldn't surprise her, not really. It would however disappoint her if she didn't hear from him.
Everything had felt so easy with him even though their conversation should have been awkward or at least much more awkward than it had been. The flow of words wasn't something to wax lyrical about but for two complete strangers it had been nice. She had enjoyed meeting him and speaking with him very much. She only hoped she got the opportunity to spend time with him again.
"Just pick up the phone and dial the number," he said aloud to himself as he paced his lounge.
It was going on eleven in the morning, and he had been wide awake since five. To his amazement, he had slept soundly until he was jerked out of a dream. Ever since then he had been brooding over whether or not he should call Anna. Would she think it too early to call? Would she expect him to call so shortly after their initial meeting? Did she just give him her number and really hope he didn't call? Was it a fake number?
He stopped pacing and rubbed both hands over his face. He needed to calm down before he gave himself a heart attack. He had the tendency to overthink situations, and he was most definitely doing that now. He needed to give Anna some credit. He doubted very much she would have written a fake number in his journal. He also doubted she would have offered her number if she hadn't wanted him to call. She didn't seem like the type of person to do those things. Yes, he didn't know her, but the goodness in her poured out of her and into the room.
He stared at the leather bound book as it laid on the coffee table. All that stood between him and the possibility of seeing Anna again was opening it and ringing her. The two actions sounded as though they were simple, ordinary tasks that anyone could accomplish. Why was it so difficult for him then? Why did it feel so monumental?
Maybe it felt that way because her answer meant a great deal to him. Yesterday morning he hadn't even known she existed. Today it appeared as though an answer may change everything.
With a deep huff, he strode over to the coffee table and opened the book. Shutting off his doubts, he collected his phone and punched in the number she had written down. He laid the book back down and pressed send.
He started to pace yet again, but this time with the phone to his ear waiting for her to pick up.
It took four rings before he heard her answer.
"Hello."
"Hello, I'm- or um is this Anna Smith?" he stuttered.
He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, knowing he sounded like an idiot just then.
"It is."
"Yes. Right. This is John Bates. You wrote down your number in my journal yesterday."
He heard a soft giggle.
"Yes, I remember you, John. How are you?"
I'm obviously a mess, he thought to himself.
"I'm well, and you?"
He was most certainly going to make a mark on his rug with all his pacing.
"Same. Just enjoying the second half of the weekend."
"Oh, yes? I'm sorry if I interrupted your plans," he said with a tinge of disappointment.
"Oh no, no plans. I'm just sitting at home actually. It's just nice not to be at work. I bet the same could be said of you since you worked yesterday."
"Not having to work today is nice," he agreed.
"So, are you up to anything today?"
He raised his hand and pointed to himself as he responded, "Me?"
"Yes, you," she laughed. It made him smile. "Who else would I be asking."
"It was kind of silly of me to ask wasn't it?"
"It was, but I'll take a guess that you are free of plans today as well."
"I am."
"A lazy Sunday for us both then."
He knew this was his window to ask. If he didn't, he wouldn't have the courage to bring it up again.
"Well, I was thinking about grabbing dinner at the Grantham Arms this evening. Just something close and casual. Would you-"
He stopped pacing and took a deep breath.
"Would you be interested in joining me?"
"They do an amazing roast on Sundays, so yes I would love to join you."
He exhaled and grinned.
"I was thinking seven? We'd miss all the earlier diners that way."
"Seven is perfect."
"Wonderful. Would you like for me to come pick you up?"
"There's no need. I live close by. I can walk there in no time."
"Okay then. I'll see you at seven."
"See you then, John. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Anna."
Her poor bedroom looked as though someone had broken in. She had most of her wardrobe scattered around her room in order to find something decent to wear. It's not like she had to make too big of deal of it. They were only going to the pub, so her attire didn't have to be dressy. She wanted to look cute, casual though. It had been ages since she had to think about what to wear for a date. She knew they didn't call it a date, but if you gave a bloke your number and he called then it was a date.
It was funny how they lived in the same area. She worked not too far from the village, and she knew he worked just on the other side of it. If things went well, it would be easy for them to meet up and do things since they lived close by. The thought of seeing him again in a few short hours had brightened her day immensely. He had sounded so nervous on the phone, but in truth she had been too. His sputtering made him even more attractive as crazy as that might sound.
She had finally decided on black boots, black skinny jeans, a nice purple and white striped blouse, and a floss candy pink pea coat.
Later that evening, well after she had uncluttered her room and took a nice bath, she had gotten herself ready to go. She checked herself in the mirror twice and made sure she had her handbag, phone, and keys before she left her house. The air was cool but inviting as she walked in the direction of the Grantham Arms. It had been a while since she had been, so she was glad he had suggested it. She knew tonight was more than likely going to be about her, which she didn't mind. She already knew several things about him, and he knew practically nothing about her other than her name, telephone number, and that she likes coffee... and reading other people's journals. She had to laugh at her own self, though now she was glad she had otherwise she wouldn't be meeting him tonight.
Grabbing her phone out of her purse, she looked at the time. She was going to be five minutes or more early, which made her relax a little more. She didn't want to be late, especially on a first date. It only caused more anxiety for both if one was late. She tucked her phone back into her purse as she saw her turn up ahead. The pub was be just around the corner. She took a few cleansing breaths as her feet brought her closer to her destination.
As she reached the corner, she turned and walked slower. A smile pulled at her lips as she saw John standing there looking at his wrist watch. She took the opportunity to look him over and noticed his right hand gripping a walking stick. She hadn't seen him with one yesterday, but for her it wasn't important. If he needed a walking aid then that was just another part to learn about him, and she couldn't wait. She smiled wider as he looked up and appeared startled she was already so close to him.
"Anna," he said as his eyes shone with delight.
He had on a gingham blue and white button down shirt tucked into a pair of form fitting, dark wash jeans. He was wearing the same black coat as yesterday, which now that she thought about it was made like the one she had on. He looked remarkably handsome.
"Hello," she greeted cheerfully.
"Hello."
"I hope you've not been waiting long."
She watched him shift his weight nervously.
"No, not at all. I've only been here a few minutes."
She smiled as they looked at one another.
"Umm... shall we?" he asked as he waved his left hand to the door.
"Yes, I'm quite hungry actually," she responded as she moved closer to the door.
"I am as well. I ate on the lighter side today so I could enjoy the comfort food."
He stepped over and opened the door. He stood back so she could enter first.
"Thank you," she nodded.
"You're welcome."
Once inside, they scanned the room for somewhere to sit. The place was a little bit warm, and there were a few other customers already inside.
"What about that booth back there?" she asked as she pointed to the right corner.
He followed where she pointed and said, "Looks great."
They walked to the back and over to the booth. She laid her handbag on the far end of the padded bench before she removed her coat. He removed his as well after he had hooked his cane over the end of his side of the booth. They sat across from one another and got themselves settled.
"Is this somewhere you come often?" she asked to break the ice.
"No. This is my first time actually," he admitted.
"You've been here since right before the new year, and you've never been?" she asked with surprise.
He gave her a smirk with a telling look.
She blushed, "Oh, right. That's one of the things I shouldn't know, but I do. Sorry."
"No need to apologize. You've done so enough already. In answer to your question, no I haven't."
"Well, it's not the finest place in all the land, but it's cozy and the food is good. Why did you think on coming here?"
He shrugged, "Like I said earlier, it's close and casual."
It was then the waiter came by to take their orders.
"Evening, what'll it be?"
John nodded for Anna to go first.
Anna looked from John to the waiter.
"Oh, I'll have a glass of cider and the roast dinner please."
"Yes, miss," the waiter said as he turned to John.
"I'll also do the roast dinner and a jug of water, please."
"Coming right up."
The waiter left them.
"Did you drive?" she asked tentatively.
He quirked a smile. She must not have had time to read everything in his journal as he knew what she was asking.
"No, I no longer drink," he explained.
"And here I am being thoughtless and ordering one."
He placed a hand down on the table almost near hers. He blushed as he realized he had almost taken her hand and said, "You're not thoughtless. It's a decision I made a little over a year ago."
"Well, from now on I'll be more respectful," she responded.
"From now on?"
He arched an eyebrow as he teased her. He felt a flutter in his chest as she turned a soft pink.
She raised a hand to brush a piece of hair behind her ear.
"I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm sorry to imply-"
"Anna," he interrupted her gently. "I'm teasing you."
She exhaled a deep breath.
"Okay, good. I guess I'm just feeling a bit nervous," she admitted.
"You want to know something?"
Her eyes met his as she replied, "What's that?"
"I'm nervous, too," he smiled.
She chuckled, "Well, thank the Lord for that."
He chuckled with her, and they both seemed to relax more.
The waiter dropped off their drinks, and John spoke again.
"So, have you always lived in Downton?"
"I moved here when I finished school to attend university and never went back home."
John poured himself a glass of water from the jug.
"And where is home?" he asked as he placed the jug back down.
"Leeds."
"Leeds?" he asked with surprise. "Does that mean your a Leeds fan?"
"Why do I feel as if this question is highly significant?" she said with a flirtatious look.
"Because it is," he responded huskily.
"I'm guessing you are not," she said, avoiding his question. She already knew which team he liked from his diary, but it was fun to ask.
"I know I wrote about a certain team several times in my entries, Miss Smith," he commented knowingly.
"Did you?" she smirked.
"Hmmm... since you are avoiding my question, I'm guessing you are indeed a Leeds fan."
"I guess you'll have to wait and see."
"That's not very fair," he pointed out.
"All's fair in love and war, Mr. Bates."
They gazed at each other for a few seconds before John changed the subject.
"So, you went to university."
He took a big gulp of his water as he waited for her to respond.
"I did," she said, deciding it was more fun to make him ask questions instead of her revealing all after just one.
"And what was it you studied?"
"Psychology."
She cracked a smile when she saw his facial expression change. She knew what he was thinking. It's what everyone thinks when they meet a psychologist.
"Are you currently practicing?" he asked as casually he as could pull off.
"Yes, I am a psychologist, John."
"I see," he responded with a sad smile, and it chipped away at her heart.
"I didn't need to be brought here to be analyzed. I do enough of that to my own self. I don't want you to pity me because of the things you read in my private journal."
If his tone could take on a tangible form it would look like a castle who's draw bridge had rapidly raised and closed the castle entrance.
"That is not why I had hoped to speak with you again. Yes, I thought your journal to be wonderful, but not because I wanted to analyze you. Well, I suppose I do, but not in the terms you are implying," she said quickly in her defense.
His jaw line flexed as the draw bridge gaped back open slightly.
"In what terms?" he asked simply.
She took a sip of her ale before she replied, "I want to get to know you because of the person you are. Was it unconventional for me to learn about you through your diary? Yes, it was, but my profession has nothing to do with why we are here now. That is what I do Monday through Friday from nine until five for people who pay me to try to help them. This to me is most certainly not a therapy session."
She watched his face falter.
"I said I would tell you about myself the next time we met, and that is what I am doing," she smiled in assurance.
He wrapped one hand around his water glass as replied softly, "I apologize, Anna. It's been quite a while since I've shared more than pleasantries with anyone. The fact that you are even here right now after reading my inner thoughts is astonishing."
Anna propped one elbow on the table and placed her chin on her palm.
"You really must stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Putting yourself down. Believe me if I thought you were a mad person I wouldn't be here."
He smirked.
"I guess you're right," he conceded.
"What do you mean you guess?" she said with a flirtatious sass.
His smile broadened as he chuckled.
"Alright, you are right," he corrected himself.
Their playful interaction was interrupted as their food arrived.
"This looks delicious," Anna commented after the waiter had left.
"Yes, it does," John agreed.
They both took a few seconds to tuck into their food before their conversation picked back up.
"So, anyway, I have lived here since uni, and I work for a small practice here in the county."
"No family here?"
"No," she sighed slightly, "But I do have friends. I have one sibling, Ryan, who is two years older than me. He lives with his wife Tiffany in London. I visit them seldom, but it is a nice treat when I do."
"Any nieces or nephews?"
"Not yet, but I have a feeling it won't be too much longer."
John was amazed at how her face lit up at the mention of children.
"I guessing you like children," he noted before taking another bite of his food.
"I do. I always thought I'd end up being a mother. I just haven't found the right person to have them with yet."
What she really wanted to say was 'until now', but she didn't want to be extremely forward.
"Do you have any children?" she asked.
"Me?" he asked as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.
"Yes, you."
"No."
His tone sounded relieved.
"You don't want children," she stated.
"Not necessarily. It's the same as you I guess. I haven't found the right person to have children with."
She shook her head slightly as she picked up some roast with her fork.
"This is an awkward conversation to be having for people who hardly know the other isn't it?"
"Maybe," he shrugged.
"I'm not the best conversationalist in the world."
"I disagree. I'm enjoying my time with you."
She rewarded him with a sweet smile.
"I'm enjoying my time with you as well."
"Then that's all that matters. The topic of conversation will take us where it takes us."
"Such as talking about Leeds?"
His mouth gaped open, and she laughed a little too loudly. She covered her mouth with her napkin as his eyes narrowed playfully.
"I knew it!"
She lowered her napkin and said, "Whatever do you mean?"
As he looked at her being playful, he felt a wave of emotion come over him. She looked incredibly beautiful, and he knew it was her inner beauty shining through. It made him speechless for a few seconds as he got caught up in her.
"Am I banished now?"
He snapped himself out of his inner daydream and replied teasingly, "You're on thin ice."
"Oh am I? I guess we'll have to wait until our clubs play each other to see who's really on thin ice."
"Deal."
He reached his right hand across the table, and she placed her hand in his. It was warm, slightly rough, and much bigger than her own. They held their shake a little longer than necessary before they pulled back.
"So, how long have you been in publishing?" she asked, steering the conversation away from competitive sports.
"On and off for years, but I've recently gotten back into it full time."
"It suits you."
"Publishing?"
"Yes."
"Why's that," he asked as curiosity crept into his voice.
She took another bite making him wait for an answer. It also gave her time to use the correct words. He followed suit and took another bite of his food as he waited for her reply.
"Your entries were beautiful, so I have no doubt you care for each and every manuscript that comes across your desk."
He wiped his mouth with his napkin has he processed her response. If only the starting of his journal keeping had been for leisure. The fallout from his marriage had prompted the diary writing. It had helped him to put down his thoughts and feelings onto paper, and he had continued to do it ever since. With that aside, how did she guess he read everything even if it wasn't going to be published? Was she able to read him so easily?
"As a matter of fact, I do," he commented as he lowered his napkin back to his lap. "I read everything whether it's published or not."
"I'm not surprised. It's very kind of you."
He looked a little timid about the compliment.
"It's the least I can do. These writers put so much of themselves into these books that I hate not to read it. If I were to write a book and send it off I would hope someone out there would read it completely."
"Have you ever thought about writing a book?"
"Not really."
"Perhaps you should."
"Enough about me, Miss Smith. Tell me more about yourself."
"Way to change the subject but okay," she smirked.
"The weather has turned even more chilly."
"It has," John agreed as he stepped outside with her.
The wind had picked up and the coolness of the air was turning her cheeks a light shade of pink. He felt his grip on the curve of his cane tighten as he gazed at her. Their conversation had flowed pretty well for a couple of people getting to know each other. He had been pleased when she had wanted dessert. It had extended their time together. He had enjoyed getting to know some about her. She was lovely and a wonderful dinner companion.
Now as they stared at one another, he found he wasn't quite ready to let their evening end.
He cleared his throat before he suggested, "I could walk you home if you'd like."
"I'm this way," she said as she pointed left around the corner. "I'm sure I'm out of your way. It would be a bother."
"It's not a bother at all," he assured even though it was completely out of his way.
"Well then," she began shyly as she fidgeted with her purse strap, "I would like that."
A warmth started in the center of his chest and spread outward.
"Lead the way," he said with a wave of his hand.
They set off together at a leisurely pace with her steps matching his own. Silence had overtaken them for a bit, but it was comfortable. It was nice to walk with someone down the lane without a specific purpose; even though he knew good and well he had a purpose. She had told him several times now how fascinating he was, but she was the fascinating one. He had a feeling he could listen to her for days without getting bored. She got very animated and lively when she spoke about certain things and places. It made him feel younger just by hearing her recall things. Yes, Anna Smith was certainly not like other women.
"Would you-" she began and stopped as they kept walking.
He looked over and down to her as she kept her face straight ahead. Her face seemed tense which he immediately disliked seeing.
"Pardon?" he asked. He just wanted to make sure he had heard her correctly while coming out of his daydream.
She looked down for a couple of seconds before she looked to him with a new burst of confidence.
"Would you be available next weekend sometime?"
They both looked forward to make sure they weren't running into anything or anyone.
She wanted to see him again. Thank God for his stoic nature because he would be doing a very awful, but energetic, jig if not. She had beat him to it. He had planned on asking to see her again once they made it to her door, but she had showed her intentions first. The forwardness made him like her even more.
"I'm free," he said simply.
He didn't care if Robert asked him to work Saturday. He wasn't going to, and he knew Robert wouldn't really push it.
"Are you sure?" she replied as she looked back up to him. "If you have to work I understand completely."
"No, I'm not working. I need to get out more on weekends," he replied as he met her gaze.
"Okay," she responded with a small smile.
"What did you have in mind?"
They looked back in front of them as they turned on the road to her house. She could already see it in the distance.
"Well, I always go to The Roasted Bean on Saturdays."
He could hear the lightness in her voice as she mentioned the coffee house.
"Ah. Does that mean I should come by early and lay my journal down?" he teased.
He was caught off guard as he felt a playful yet forceful slap to his left upper arm. He gasped out of surprise, stopped walking, and looked at her.
"Oh my gosh!" she said as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth while stopping as well.
She began laughing, which made him laugh too.
"That hurt," he said, feigning sadness.
She lowered her hand and said, "My hand just smacked you before I even knew what was happening. Forgive me."
"No need to forgive you. That's what I get for teasing you."
"Well still it wasn't nice of me to smack you. My house is just right there."
She pointed in its direction, and they started walking again.
"So, would you like to meet at the coffee house on Saturday?" he asked.
"I would," she agreed before back pedaling. "Only if you would like to of course."
"Of course I would. I need to know more about the fascinating Ms. Smith."
They reached her front door as she replied, "Hey! You stole my word."
They turned to look at each other.
"You are definitely the fascinating one out of the two of us," he assured.
"We'll just have to find out won't we?"
"I guess we will," he said with a rasp.
"Would ten o'clock Saturday be okay? I don't like waking up too early if I don't have to."
"Ten is great."
They smiled, and Anna looked out across the sky.
"It'll be dark on your walk home," she said with a frown.
"It'll be alright."
She looked back to him still frowning.
"I can manage."
Her frown morphed into a sweet smile.
"Of course you can."
He shared a smile with her as well, as both of them stalled in saying goodbye.
"Thank you again for your company and for sharing a bit about yourself."
"No, thank you. You had every reason to never want to talk to me again."
He didn't know what came over him. Maybe it was the way she was looking at him. Maybe it was how he felt when he was around her. Maybe it was a lapse of judgement, but he replied, "I don't think it would be possible for me to want that."
Their eyes locked. Did he hear her slightly gasp? Did he just take her right hand into his left?
He did.
"May I text you this week?"
Her cheeks were already pink from the cold air, but he wondered if she might be blushing as well. Her hand felt cold in his, but nice, so very nice.
"Sure. If you find the time."
Without breaking eye contact, he raised her hand, leaned down a little ways, and kissed the back of her hand. He smirked as he lowered their hands and straightened back up.
"I will see you soon."
She cleared her throat which made his smirk turn into a full smile.
"Yes, I'll see you soon."
She slowly removed her hand from his and collected her keys.
"Be careful walking home."
"I will."
She unlocked the door and stepped inside. She turned around as he began to walk towards the pavement.
"Goodnight, John," she called from the doorway.
He turned and replied, "Goodnight, Anna."
When he made it home, he flopped down on his sofa with a contented sigh. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.
I made it home. Just wanted you to know since you were worried. J
It wasn't a minute until he had a reply.
Good to know. This was a thoughtful text, Mr. Bates. A
He chuckled as he deposited his phone on the coffee table and picked up his journal and pen. He flipped to the next empty page and began to write.
11 Oct.
Who would have thought me being forgetful could turn into the beginning of something so incredible I could never have prepared myself for it. Listen at me sounding optimistic. It is such a rarity I'm shocking my own self. Anna, the lady who had discovered my journal and read some of it, met me for dinner tonight at the Grantham Arms. It was very enjoyable, and she even asked if I was free at the weekend. Yes, that's right, a woman asked me if I was free. It's been a long time since that has happened. I am hoping things continue to go well. She's intelligent, witty, and a good listener. Maybe it was fate for someone to read my inner most thoughts, and if it was I'm so glad it was meant to be her. I have work in the morning. A new week is ahead. I'll be getting to bed soon, so I can maybe be refreshed in the morning. What a great day it was.
To Be Continued...