I am so sorry for the wait. I know it can be a pain to stick around, but I promise I will never flounce from this fic and it will be completed, sooner rather than later. I'm far too invested in Edith, Franny, Jimmy, and the rest of these characters who only exist in my world.
Thank you to my kickass awesomesauce betas, Beth and Sarah, who put up with my cray-cray and remain as dedicated to this story as they were on day one.
I suggest skimming the prologue if it's been a while since you read it.
Smeyer owns Twilight. I own the Biloxi crew and entirely too much yarn.
###
July 1st 1925
She lay in bed for several moments chasing the sleep that refused to come. Her bedroom was dark but she could make out the fluffy ruffles on her bedspread, the shape of the small vanity her father had bought her for her fourteenth birthday, the fluttering of the curtains in the hot summer breeze.
Mary hadn't gone back to the cornfield in weeks.
She threw herself back onto the pillows roughly and clenched her eyes so tight, her head ached. Fall asleep, she chanted over and over in her head but it was fruitless; sleep wouldn't come and, on the nights it did, it was deep and utterly dreamless. Her fingernails were chewed to the quick from the anxiety. During the day, she was detached and unnaturally quiet, smiling only when she was around Franny.
The one time Sally came over, she was ignored. She stormed home after only fifteen minutes, wondering if maybe the Liddells were on to something after all.
During dinner that night, Mary's parents kept a close eye on their strange daughter. They clucked their tongues and shook their heads, and tried, in vain, to get her to open up. Jimmy was the first to get frustrated. He tossed his napkin on the table and shifted his chair towards Mary.
"For heaven's sake, what's the matter with you?"
"Jimmy!" Marianne reached over and grabbed his hand. "Calm down."
Jimmy moved out of Marianne's grip and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "Is this about that boy?"
"Boy?" Mary swallowed thickly and began shaking her foot to a nervous rhythm. "What boy?"
"William. Who else would I be speaking of?"
Mary dropped her shoulders and wilted before their eyes. "No one. May I be excused?"
She left her parents arguing, and enveloped herself in her bedspread, waiting for sleep. That had been six hours earlier.
She yanked her sheets off in frustration and let the breeze cool her body. "Please," she whispered to the room. "I miss it. I miss him."
She sat on her bed, cross-legged, and took slow, deep breaths, trying to imagine herself back. Ever so slowly, the ruffled bedspread turned into dips in the soil, the curtains into the rustling of the stalks. At last, a silhouette of a man appeared in the shadows.
"I'm here?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm here!" Her voice echoed and carried itself right to him. They met somewhere in the middle and Mary was so overjoyed, she threw herself into his arms without thought or hesitance. "I need to tell you something before it's too late." She tugged on his hair to bring his ear closer to her lips and, in a rushed whisper, she told him her name.
He moved back to look into her eyes as he tested the word soundlessly on his lips. "Mary," he finally said, reverently. "You came back to me."
###
July 3rd 1925
"Fr-Fr-Franny!"
That's how Paul said his daughter's name. Mary always threw her head back and laughed until her sides hurt. Paul knew she meant no harm and often he'd join in the laughter, his head shaking. "Say it again," Mary would cry.
"Fr-Fr-Franny!"
Mary started calling her that too.
That night she leaned out of her bedroom window and whispered the name into her end of their tin can telephone. Miss Thornton taught all the children in her class how to make them and now the alleys in Tanglewood were linked together with the garland of communication. Mary had made hers out of two cans of evaporated milk; the other end reached across into Franny's room where the little girl was already waiting with her can in hand.
"Can you hear me?"
Franny nodded, then burst into laughter. "Oh! Yes, I can hear you. Are we really going to do this every night?"
"Every night. It's a lot easier than trying to yell to each other."
"Mary, just come over," she pleaded. She threw in a pout for good measure, but Mary pretended not to see it.
"It's too late for that. Besides, this is more fun, Fr-Fr-Franny." Mary straddled her windowsill, one leg swinging carelessly outside. No one could see them unless they stepped into the alleyway and the thought was suddenly freeing.
"Be careful!"
"Keep your voice down! I'm not going to fall."
Franny huffed and waved her can a little. "Fine." She leaned on both her elbows, her chubby cheek resting in one hand. The girls sat in silence as they watched the pinks, purples, and golds of dusk sweep over their houses.
"Why is the sky blue?" Franny was four years old, which meant she questioned everything.
"Well, mother says it's because God made it that way."
"My mother or yours?"
"Yours."
"Oh. Why does it change color?"
"God has a paintbrush and changes it whenever he fancies." Mary made a humming sound.
Franny nodded slowly. "Uh huh. Why doesn't he ever choose green?"
"Because the trees are green. You can't have too much of one color."
Franny squinted as if she were trying to gauge the truth in Mary's words. Eventually, she just shrugged. "That makes sense."
There was more silence and Mary closed her eyes. "Do you have dreams?" She asked quietly. "Most people do."
"Of course I do." Franny began bouncing lightly in excitement. "I dreamt last night that daddy got me a horse."
"You don't say." Mary smiled and tugged on the line playfully.
"Yep! He was white and I named him Buster and I kept him in the backyard where he ate all the roses…" Franny went on describing her dream for several minutes while Mary waited patiently. "So," the little girl finally asked, "what did you dream about last night?"
"Nothing. Everything. The color Mrs. Liddell's flowers are going to be. The raise my daddy's going to get at the cannery. Which dress you're going to wear for your birthday party." Mary paused and leaned back against the window siding. "Your grandma's going to make you a new one, you know."
"Grandma is always making me dresses." Franny scrunched her face. "Those sound like boring dreams."
"Really?" Mary chuckled and looked over toward the street. "Most people wouldn't say so." No one could possibly hear us. "My other dreams aren't so boring. They're about someone…" Mary blushed and twirled loose tendrils of her hair around her finger. "I've been dreaming of a boy."
"Oooooooh," Franny teased. "Is it William?"
"William?" Mary cocked her head. "Why do you assume it's of him?"
"Because daddy says you're likely to marry him some day." Franny wrinkled her nose. "Is that true?"
Mary stared up at the sky thoughtfully. With a sigh, she eased herself back into her bedroom. "The truth is that it's time for you to go to bed."
"But-"
"No buts."
"Okay," came the reluctant reply. "Goodnight, Mary."
"Goodnight, Fr-Fr-Franny."
###
He was waiting for her the way he always seemed to be as of late; standing in the middle of the path through the corn, holding Sarah in both his hands. He's so thoughtful.
"Hello."
He smiled and walked over to her. He didn't hand Sarah over immediately and Mary realized, with trepidation, that things had felt awkward ever since their reunion. He had seemed happy to see her, but then gently pushed her away and kept her at a distance. Each visit since, he seemed weary, as if he was growing tired of her presence.
She moved to sit, but he stopped her and shook his head. "You'll get mud on your dress."
Mary looked around and realized that the ground was dimpled with puddles of mud. "It rained?"
He nodded once and pointed down to his feet which were bare. "I had to let my boots dry out."
"I never realized it could rain…or that it hadn't. I guess I never thought about it." Mary's eyes grew wide. "I never thought about it at all. If it rains, does that mean there's sunlight? How does the corn grow in the first place? And what do you eat? You can't possibly survive on just the corn."
"Whoa, there." He took another step back and shook his head. "I'm surviving just fine." They stood in silence for a moment.
"Are you going to tell me?"
"What I eat?"
"Your name!" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I want to know your name." After a few minutes it became obvious he wasn't going to say. "It's not fair. You know mine."
"Mary."
"You say it like it's something beautiful."
"It is." Her face softened and she reached out to him. He shook his head again and ducked away from her hands. "You shouldn't…"
"Don't move away from me," she chastised. She took another step forward and slowly moved her hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch; he was shaking under her palm. "Are you scared of me?" she asked.
When he opened his eyes, they weren't his. The brilliant, animalistic red had faded into a warm gold that made Mary weak in the knees. He looked at her, through her, and she felt absolutely bare to him. The moment went as quickly as it came, and within seconds his eyes reddened again.
"Yes," he whispered, laying one of his hands over hers. "I'm scared of you."
###
The next day, Mary stood alongside the thousands of residents in Biloxi and celebrated the Fourth of July. Grudges and fears were set aside and everyone treated her like she had always been one of them. Beth even held her hand while they stood, alongside the other Biloxi High students, to sing America the Beautiful on stage with the mayor.
When night fell, she moved with the crowds towards the pier and cheered as fireworks painted the sky over the Mississippi Sound. She lifted Franny up by her waist and laughed as the little girl waved the tiny American flag the organizers handed out to the children.
"I still can't see!" Franny pouted.
"I can help," someone said into Mary's ear.
She turned and found William smiling shyly, a small ribbon in his hand. He waved it gently and then held it out for her. His curls were matted down with sweat and his eyes were alive and bright under the exploding sky. "Hello, Mary," he yelled close to her ear. "May I?" He reached down and swooped Franny up on his shoulder.
Mary smiled sweetly and tugged on on his sleeve. "Thank you!" She pointed to the fireworks. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"
William shook his head. "I wouldn't know. I can't seem to take my eyes off of you."
Mary batted his arm. "You're in a good mood."
"Say you'll take a walk with me tomorrow morning and I'll be in a better one."
"Don't you have church?"
William frowned. "On Monday then. Early. How about seven?"
"Monday then." William exhaled with relief and finally turned his attention to the display.
Her pulse sounded louder in her ears than the fireworks.
###
July 6th 1925
Sally had been right; Mrs. Reed was a terrible chaperone. William had planned a stroll with Mary, this time closer to the water, and his mother once again agreed to supervise. Before they even reached the small pier near the lighthouse, she disappeared into the market, muttering about picking out some fabric for a nightgown.
"Did your mother just leave us?" Mary stopped in her tracks. She had never been alone with a boy outside of Tanglewood. Christopher had been the only exception and that short moment had ended poorly.
William picked up on her distress and frowned. "I can take you back home at once."
Mary chewed on the inside of her cheek before shaking her head. "No, it's alright. Clearly she trusts us. Besides, I want to see this surprise of mine."
William smiled and linked his arm with hers. "I think you're going to love it."
The surprise turned out to be an entire building.
"The lighthouse?" Mary asked incredulously.
William smiled slyly and patted Mary's arm, ushering her toward the entrance. He produced a key from his shirt pocket and unlocked the door. "Madam, your gift awaits." He gestured inside with a flourish.
Mary paused and shifted her weight to her heels. She peered into the dark room and frowned. "William, are you sure we're allowed to be here? We won't get in trouble?"
"My aunt is the keeper," he answered, as he pointed to the cottage just behind them. "I can come and go as I please as long as I don't break anything." He blushed and wrung his hands. "But if you're not comfortable going inside, we can-"
Mary cut him off by running past him. "You can't catch me!" she yelled back, as she started running up the spiral stairs.
William watched her skirts flair high behind her and his pulse began to race. "You're going to regret challenging me." He grinned and dashed after her, taking the stairs two at a time. He caught her at the top and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. Their laughter echoed until it faded and the only sound was their erratic breathing.
"I have you, Miss Mary." William whispered into her ear.
Mary shivered and lay her hands over his. "So you do," she murmured.
William cleared his throat and let her go. He stepped around her and pointed to a small ladder screwed onto the wall. Mary followed its steps with her eyes up to the small hole in the ceiling. "I s'pose we have to climb through that?"
William blushed and held up his hand. "Yes. I promise I won't look up your dress."
"I have to go first?"
"It seems only right, just in case you fall."
Mary laughed and placed both hands firmly on the ladder. "You'll catch me if I do, won't you?"
"Did you forget I caught you just moments ago?"
Mary went up the ladder first. Once inside, she straightened out her skirt and looked around the room. She was speechless, until William nudged her with his shoulder.
"It's nice, isn't it?" He said.
"William, it's beautiful." The room was circular and every wall was a pane of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling. Mary stepped forward until her nose was practically touching the glass. From up there, the sea was a calm, endless blue-green speckled with frothy white. "This view is amazing."
"I know. I love to come up here in the mornings and watch the boats come and go." He lightly touched Mary's elbow and pointed to the nine lanterns spread out within the room. "My aunt turns these on right after dusk."
"She's here all night?"
"All night." William grinned. "You couldn't keep her away from this place if you tried. Her mother used to be the Keeper, you know."
"What about electricity?"
"They have it running in here already. They're supposed to electrify the lantern next year." William wandered over to two chairs in the middle of the room. A small radio was set on one of them. He picked it up and turned its dial. "Would you care to sit?"
In the span of an hour they spoke of everything, letting the conversation ebb and flow like the sea she couldn't pry her eyes away from.
William checked his pocket watch and closed it with a snap."We're going to have to leave soon."
Mary tried to hide her disappointment. "Oh."
"Not that I want to," William amended. "The lighthouse is made of iron and, in the July sun, it gets quite warm in here. I'm sure my mother is wondering where we are as well."
"She doesn't like me very much, does she?"
"Of course she does. She is just concerned, that's all."
Mary licked her lips and turned to face him. "What are people saying about me, William?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be stubborn." Mary gave a rueful smile. "I hear the rumours…some of them in any case. I hear I made Christopher Liddell cry."
"We've all made him cry at one point or another. He's an oversensitive bastard."
"William!"
"Do you disagree?"
"No," she admitted. "I can't say that I do." Mary sighed and closed her eyes. "There are so many other girls in Tanglewood who would love your affections."
"But there's only one I want to give them to."
"And what if people talk about you? About us?"
William scoffed. "I won't pay attention to a lick of it, Mary. None of that matters to me."
###
For the next two months, Mary continued to split her time between her two worlds. She visited the lighthouse with William twice a week. There, they were safe from curious glances and whispers. There, Mary found herself free to sit closer to him, to hold his hand, to let her fingers ghost over the buttons on his collar and straighten his tie when the occasion called for it.
Nights were spent in the cornfield. She had begun greeting Him with, "Today?" But, each day he shook his head 'no', he wasn't telling her his name yet.
"Why not?"
"Tell me about your day." Just like that the subject was put away.
Mary filled the time with recitations of poems and stories she learned in school. She realized he loved history the best and began paying extra attention to her teacher's lectures. When that wasn't enough, she poured over her father's books and newspapers, jotting down notes in the margins. "He'd like this," she'd write, and then commit the dates and details to memory. Sometimes she stumbled over her words, so eager to please him, wondering if in the silence of fields he could hear how fast his presence made her heart beat.
###
August 12th, 1925
"Did you hear that? My God, he hit another one!" William leaned over and lowered the volume on the radio. He got up and stood in front of Mary, grinning like a fool.
The two teenagers were sitting in the stairwell of the lighthouse. It was unseasonably cool that day and they were able to sit inside, albeit with the door open, and listen to the broadcast of the baseball games from the radio inside the lighthouse.
"That's going to be me one day."
Mary furrowed her eyebrows. "You're going to be on the radio?"
William let out a hearty laugh. "No, I'm going to play ball with the Yankees," he said confidently.
"Just like Babe Ruth?"
"I'll be better than Babe!" William stood, jogged up to the top landing and took a batter's stance. "During my last year of high school, Huggins himself will come and scout me. I'll be the Yankees' new number three before I'm twenty!" He swung his arms, as if he'd hit an imaginary ball, and closed his eyes.
Mary bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. She hadn't realized William was serious about baseball and certainly never thought he would want to leave Biloxi. She cleared her throat and did her best to sound cheery. "That sounds like a wonderful dream. I hope it comes true for you."
"Us, Mary. I want it to come true for us." William smiled and sat back down next to her. He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm gently. "You're going to love New York," he whispered.
"I'm…" A touch of hysteria began to bubble in Mary's throat. She choked it down and tried again. "You expect me to go with you?"
William let out a shaky breath and reached for Mary's other hand. He now held both in his and he squeezed them gently. "I'm going to ask your father for your hand in marriage, Mary."
The room became twenty degrees hotter. Mary slipped one hand out of his grasp and began to fan herself.
"Have I upset you?"
"No." Yes. "It's just that…"
"I've been saying I want you as my wife for the past seven years, Miss Brandon. Did you think I was playing a game all this time?" William asked with a laugh.
"No." Yes. Perhaps.
"Is there someone else?"
Mary struggled to find an answer. After a few moments of silence, she reached and lightly passed her fingertips over the back of William's hand. "My father asked to speak to you," she finally murmured. "Would you like to have dinner with my family this week?"
"I want to make my intentions known."
"I know."
"Tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow."
###
Mary spent twenty minutes flipping through her mother's sole recipe book without any luck. She dragged the large book into the kitchen, where her mother was baking cookies, and dropped the large book on the counter. "Mother, how do you make fried chicken? And why do you only have one cookbook? And why is it full of fish recipes?"
Marianne clucked her tongue and waved her rolling pin. "Because, dear, I know my recipes by heart. The cookbook was a gift from a friend when she learned I was moving to the seafood capital of the south." Marianne took in Mary's panicked look. "I keep telling you to take the time to learn to cook properly. We can't survive on only biscuits."
"But I don't like to cook and biscuits are the only things I make well."
"I don't like to do laundry, but I do it anyway." Marianne narrowed her eyes and put a hand on her hip. "Why on earth do you need a recipe for fried chicken in the first place?"
"I invited William over for dinner tomorrow and fried chicken is his favorite meal. That goes well with biscuits too so I'll make..." Mary trailed off as she took in her mother's reaction. Oh Lord.
"Mary Alice Brandon, why didn't you tell me we were having company?" Marianne pulled off her apron as fast as possible and tossed it aside. "Are his parents coming as well?"
"I am not certain. They might."
Marianne made a strangled noise and began pulling the linens off the table. "I need to wash these and press the napkins. We need to polish the good silverware too." Marianne strode out of the kitchen, muttering about ironing her best dress and choosing a dessert.
"Wait!" Mary called after her, "What about the fried chicken?"
Marianne popped her head back in with a frown on her face. "Darling, I've never made fried chicken before. I don't know how to."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"Perhaps I can make some stew instead."
"In July?" Mary shrieked. "That won't work!" She slumped into the nearest chair and rested her head on the table. "This was supposed to be perfect."
"Mary?" Marianne hesitated, tapping her fingernails on the counter before letting out a slow breath. "I bet Edith knows how to make fried chicken. Why don't you run on over and ask her?"
Of course Edith knew how to make fried chicken. "Is it for a picnic of sorts?"
"It's for William. He and his parents are coming over for dinner. William wants to…you know."
Edith coughed. "He…but you're so young." Edith wrung her hands helplessly. She had half a mind to march up to Marianne and clock her upside the head. Mary wasn't even fifteen and here she was, speaking of marriage in the same tone Edith used about dusting the top of the icebox. "Do you like William?"
"Quite a bit. He's sweet and makes me laugh. He doesn't care about the things people say about me." Mary seemed lost in thought for a few moments. Edith clasped her hands and waited patiently for her to come back.
"How did you know Paul was the one? I know how he proposed, but why did you agree?"
"He kept asking," Edith joked. She realized Mary was taking her answer seriously. "I said yes," she clarified, "because I knew I wanted him as a husband."
"I'm pretty sure Mrs. Reed dislikes me a great deal."
Edith scrunched her nose. "No mother likes the girl who steals her son away."
"Mrs. DeWitt likes you."
"She didn't always. It took her a few months to accept that Paul wasn't going to marry anyone else. I suspect Nellie- Mrs. Reed- will do the same." Edith cupped Mary's face in her hands. "You're a beautiful young woman. Any boy would thank his lucky stars for bringing you to him." She gently pushed Mary toward the stove. "Now, about this chicken recipe…"
###
William whistled as he straightened his tie. It was mustard, a stark contrast to his charcoal suit, but he knew Mary would appreciate the burst of color. He dipped his hand into the large jar of hair grease his father kept on the bathroom sink and smoothed it over his hair. He brushed it until the curls stayed down and frowned when he realized the sunlight from the window reflected off of it. "Huh," he murmured. "Maybe I used too much."
"You look fine." His mother was leaning against the bathroom door with her arms crossed. She blew a stray hair out of her eyes and reached for one of the hand towels lying on the edge of the sink. "Here, let me wipe your neck." She hummed under her breath while she cleaned off the pomade that threatened to drip down the back of his shirt. When she finished, she sighed and pressed her hand over her son's heart.
"Please don't," William begged. "I'm not changing my mind."
"But marriage, William? To Mary Brandon? There are so many other girls, better girls, who would do anything to have you bring them flowers. Why can't you marry one of them?"
William grasped his mother by the shoulders. "Because I love her."
His mother moved out of his arms. "She's not right in the head. You know that. Just two weeks ago she barely even looked at you, at anyone."
"She goes through phases is all."
"Phases? Fine, we'll call them phases." Nellie narrowed her eyes. "What will happen if she stays in one of her phases?"
"Mother…"
"Tell me. What happens if you come home from work one day and she's so out of it she's let junior play with the stove?"
"Don't—"
"She's sick, William. Even if you love her, it won't be enough when you have to take care of her because she can't take care of herself."
William turned back to the mirror and fiddled with his tie. "I will take care of her."
"Think of what everyone will say."
"I don't care."
"But—"
"I don't care. I'm going to marry her with or without your blessing. Please don't let it come to this." William searched his mother's eyes, but she looked away. He heard her sigh again and then she left the bathroom without another word.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, both his parents were waiting dressed for dinner.
"You're coming?" he asked, incredulously.
His parents shared a glance before his father cleared his throat. "Of course we are. We should at least see what her parents have to say."
###
The air was knocked out of William's lungs when Mary opened the door. She was wearing a peach dress that was just above her ankles and her hair was loose. Completely and utterly loose. It seemed darker than ever and it trailed down to her waist, curling at the ends just above where he imagined her knickers began. He blushed at the thought and cleared his throat.
"Mary Alice." He beamed. "You look stunning."
Dinner was pleasant, but had an undercurrent of tension. Marianne kept staring at the boy, trying to figure from just a look if he was smart enough, handsome enough, good enough. Jimmy ignored him altogether, choosing to talk work with George.
"I fried the chicken and made the biscuits," Mary whispered at some point.
"It's delicious," William enthused. "Did you hear that, Mother?"
"Yes." Nellie deadpanned. She was not impressed. "Marianne," she started, "It seems our children are taken with one another." There was a bitterness in her words.
Marianne was overly saccharine in her reply. "Why, of course! Your boy has been after my sweet Mary for quite some time."
"Your daughter seemed to enjoy the positive attention. She hasn't received much of that recently, has she?"
Mary watched the two mothers trade thinly concealed barbs over the dinner table. Across from her, William scowled and dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. "Mother, please!"
"William, don't speak to your mother in that tone."
"Father."
"George, let him speak if he wants to."
Jimmy sighed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Why don't you just get on with it, son."
"I want to speak to you about my intentions with your daughter." William rubbed his hands on his thighs. Mary knew he was nervous and, if he was nervous, he was probably sweating. "Um, sir, what I mean to say is, I'd like to ask for Mary's hand."
Nellie visibly deflated. George smiled tightly and patted his wife's hand. "Our son has been eager for this day, I assure you. He comes from good stock."
"Your son is a good boy, George, but I think Mary's too young to be engaged."
"I'll take care of her, Mr. Brandon. Once I'm on the team and we get to New York—"
"New York?" Marianne blanched. "What's this about New York?"
"Coach says I can make it to pro right out of high school, if not sooner. Mary would come with me. I thought she'd work in fashion there."
"Tailoring?" Nellie let out an unladylike snort.
"Fashion, Mother, not tailoring. Mary's a wonder when it comes to color and texture."
"She's too young."
Mary's eyes widened in surprise. The sentiment came from Marianne with a finality that made the Reeds sit a little taller in their chairs while William slumped in his. Jimmy was quick to pat him on the shoulder. "You've made your intentions clear and you're a good boy. How about we hold off this conversation until your last year of high school?"
William nodded curtly and glanced over at Mary. He felt hurt when he realized she looked relieved.
###
"Can I try it again?"
He furrowed his eyebrows and tensed; she could see his shoulders inch up ever so slightly, his hand form into fists, and his chin tuck into his chest. He was definitely still frightened of her.
"Please?"
She nearly rushed him when he nodded. Instead she forced herself to step towards him slowly and touch his cheek gently, first with just her thumb and then the whole of her hand. His shudder sent a thrill up her spine but it was his eyes that captivated her. Once again the red evaporated until only gold was left in its place. Mary gave a breathy laugh. "It's amazing. You're the missing link of alchemy."
"What do you mean?"
Mary shook her head, let go of his cheek, and stared as the gold receded. "Amazing," she repeated. "Let's sit."
It hadn't rained so they sat in one of the aisles between the stalks as usual. He gave her a gentle smile. "How are things at home?"
"William asked my father for his blessing a few hours ago."
He didn't say anything, just looked out into the distance. He appeared to be concentrating but there was nothing to see. Finally he cleared his throat. "When is the wedding?'
"My parents didn't consent, not yet." Mary fiddled with one of the buttons on her dress. "I didn't say yes."
"That stopped him?" He turned to face her again, and gave her a small smile. "If I were him, I wouldn't give up after one conversation. If I were him, I'd ask every day until you father consented. "
The space between them closed as Mary inched her way closer. "And…" She licked her lips and pressed her clasped hands over her heart. "And if you weren't him? If you were yourself…If it were a possibility?"
"You're too young." He reached for her anyway. His hands were so cold but he held her hand so tenderly, so sweetly, Mary felt a warmth. When he pressed his lips against her wrist, it turned into a flame that shot up her arm, through her chest, down to her toes. "But I would remain by your side," he murmured. "I would wait for you."
"I think I want you to."
"It's what I've been doing all this time."
The cornfield snapped away as quickly as it came. Mary was still in the sitting room with a book perched on her lap but the room was spinning. I need air. She stumbled out the front door and onto the porch. She folded her arms on the railing and rested her head, letting the breeze that was rolling off the gulf sweep over her. She could still feel the kiss on her wrist.
"Mary?" Franny was standing in the street in front of her home, ready to go inside from a game of hopscotch. She squealed at the sight of her best friend and ran over. When Mary didn't acknowledge her, she cocked her head. "Are you alright?"
I'm flying. "Oh Fran. He's waiting for me to turn his eyes to gold."
History Lessons:
"Oh, I Miss You Tonight" was a popular song in 1925. You can find a link to a recording on my profile.
The City of Biloxi continues its annual fireworks display to this day.
The Biloxi Lighthouse started operation in 1848. It is still standing, though it was damaged by Katrina. It is known for having the most female keepers of any lighthouse in the US.
The Yankees won a game against the Chicago White Sox on August 12th 1925. Despite William's idolization, it was actually one of Ruth's worst years on the field due to undisclosed illness (which many believe was a venereal disease. Ouch). Miller Huggins was manager of the team at the time.
Mary refers to alchemy, which is the medieval search for a potion capable of turning copper to gold.
Story notes:
I've briefly touched upon the fact that the Brandon family is not religious and don't attend church regularly. This is yet another reason the Brandons are in the outer rim of the Tanglewood circle.
At this point, William is one of the only teenagers in Tanglewood who ignore the rumors and speculation about Mary. That's important to remember when analyzing their relationship. Marianne was also quick to push them into into a relationship...at least until she realized William intends to move Mary so far away. Marianne is suddenly less enthusiastic.
Congratulations for those who knew it was Jasper in the cornfield! While I was reading the Twilight Saga, I found myself thinking, "Alice couldn't have met Jasper without going mad and being institutionalized. Alice couldn't have gone mad without having premonitions. What if her premonitions were of Jasper?" Having their relationship come full circle was too interesting to ignore and that's one of the reasons I started writing this story.
There's a interlude going up right after this so don't go too far.
