After going on a fan fiction reading binge, I am completely intimidated, but I need to set this chapter free before I erase it and start over again.
He couldn't take his eyes off her. She paused in perusing the counter to look at him quizzically, and he hastily turned and began counting the coins in his antiquated cash register. He wanted to shake her and ask, Where have you been? How is it that you're still alive? He wanted to ask her forgiveness. Instead, he said, "I'd be happy to help you, but I'm just closing up shop for the night. Is there something you're looking for?" His voice wavered for a moment and he hated himself for it, hoping that she hadn't noticed.
"Well," she said hesitantly, "in a way, yes. You see, Emma…I mean, the Sheriff…she suggested that I come to see you." Rose explained about the too-small apartment. Then she added, "Em….Sheriff Swan said I should ask if you have any rooms to let."
"What about family?" he asked, not wanting to think about her father, but wondering what she had been told.
"Oh, my mother died and my father doesn't want me," she said simply.
"I'm so sorry…" he began.
"I used to be," she said with disarming candor. "But since I can't do anything about it, I have to go somewhere. I suppose it's sad, really, but I've always wanted to prove myself." Then she stopped and looked at him intently. "So, can you help me? I don't have much money, but I promise to pay."
He narrowed his eyes and gazed at her thoughtfully for a few moments. Then the corner of his mouth raised in just the slightest hint of the old wicked smile.
"I'll make you a deal," he said. "As you can see, my shop is badly in need of a cleaning, and I can't get around the way I used to." He nodded at his cane and accompanying limp. "I have a vacant room right above the shop, and no one has come to see it in ages. If you would be willing to take care of my shop in the afternoons, I'm sure you could earn your keep."
"Oh, that would be perfect," she bubbled, visibly relieved. Then she laughed. "But you don't even know who I am! Do you usually take strangers into your home?"
He faltered for a moment. Then, recovering, he said, "Well, it's not exactly my home, now, is it? Besides, since Sheriff Swan referred you to me, you must be an upstanding citizen, Miss…."
"Rose," she said. "Just Rose is fine."
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rose," he said, experimenting with the name. It would take some getting used to, but it suited her. He gave her an awkward bow, and she curtseyed formally and giggled.
Rose's life took on a predictable schedule. Mary Margaret helped her find work assisting at the school library, and every afternoon was spent tidying and working at the pawn shop. At first, visitors to the store stared at her curiously, but her winsome ways charmed them, and her employer's forbidding glower discouraged them from asking too many questions. Emma came to visit often with food and other sundries, and Rose's upstairs room gradually became more homelike. Although Mr. Gold never commented on her work, the place began to take on a brighter air. Eventually the townspeople became used to her presence, and she was almost invisible as she tidied up the shelves, humming and skipping nimbly between the odd trinkets and collections.
She found Mr. Gold to be an enigma. She felt his eyes on her from time to time, and although it was strange for her after being alone for so long, she became used to it. He must be lonely, after all. Although people constantly came in to make deals with him, none stopped to talk or share gossip as they did elsewhere. He was constantly busy, yet his isolation was palpable. She took to asking him questions, partly to fill the quiet, but partly to try to understand his odd air of melancholy and distance. Slowly at first, he began to tell her about the townspeople, peppering his conversation with stories and observations that delighted her. Soon, her laugh rang throughout the store, and his initial surprise turned to tolerant amusement. He began to tease her with little quips, awkward and dusty through lack of use. Her pleasure was so contagious that he found himself smiling as well, feeling the faintest hint of that old, impish glee.
Gold marveled at how much he had forgotten about her; her easy smile, her ringing laugh, her devious ways of wheedling him out of his dark moods. As far as he could tell, she did not remember a thing about who he was or what she had been to him. Thinking over how the past had played itself out, he wasn't sure if he wanted her to remember just yet. He had thought he would never see her again, and although he was furious that she had been kept from him for so long, all he wanted now was to regain the trust in him that she'd once had, the trust that she couldn't even remember losing so long ago.