I love this chapter so much. I think this is one of my favorite chapters. ENJOY!
Chapter 29: A Fresh Start
So to make things short, Ma, Maura and I, we're kind of… girlfriends?
The word is written lightly, and it is clear it has been erased and rewritten several times. The paper is rough and thin in that area, Angela notices as she runs her fingers across the word. Oh, right, I didn't mention the journal yet. James started keeping a journal when he was almost nine, summing up a lot of the encounters we've had, and including stuff that hasn't even happened yet—for us, at least. James gave this journal and some pictures and other random stuff to Grandpa and told him to give it to me this summer, This is all so confusing to sum up, especially in a letter. I don't know if there are any blanks left, I mean, I know there are some blanks, but the big stuff. I don't know. It makes sense to me. So basically I… time traveled. No. That sounds really weird. Time traveled? Whatever. I went back in time and met Maura and we're together and now we're here, in 2008, and she's supposed to stay here. She can't go back for so many reasons. I know you're going to say she should go home, but she can't. The journal says she doesn't. If she's not meant to return home, then she can't. Frost can tell you why—he's so freaked out that we're going to screw up the space-time-continuum or whatever. He thinks that we're going to do something wrong and suddenly the whole world will change. But maybe he's right, maybe there is that risk. And Ma, if there's a risk, then Maura needs to stay here. It's where she's supposed to be. You can ask Grandpa or read the journals if you don't believe me. I know this is a ton of crazy talk, I'm sure. You're probably sitting there with your jaw dropped as you read this. But, please, Ma, try to believe it. And please let Maura stay here. She is family, after all, ha ha. I swear I'm not making this up, Ma. You know I don't have enough creativity to come up with something as complex as this. Maura's not some random runaway that I'm just trying to take in. She's… well… you know now, I guess. And she's… she's important to me, Ma. She's very important to me. Okay, I guess that sums it up enough. I hope.
I guess. I don't know. Maybe you already figured that much out. I know, I know, you'll say, "But she's family!" Well, not exactly. She was adopted, remember? Anyway… I love her. I really do, Ma, and she loves me, too. And I guess that's where the trouble began. Her parents have been trying to wed her off, and she doesn't even like those guys they bring home as potential husbands. And the reason as to why she's here, now, in 2008 instead of 1908 is because we were caught a few days ago. Her mother found us, and she flipped and… the outcome wasn't good, so I did what the journal said to do.
-Jane
Angela's hands tremble as she finishes the last line of the letter. The papers shake in her hand, and she wipes her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. Her thoughts run amuck with the new information, and she sends her skeptic instincts to the curb as she embraces the insanity that she has no choice other than to believe.
It all sounds insane, she knows, and usually her sound mind would lead her down the lane of skepticism. But, there's a little voice of reason dragging her back and shedding light upon all of her questions.
A memory.
A few too many coincidences.
More than enough for her to simply brush the insanity off her shoulder and argue with her daughter for a real explanation.
Sweeping the back of her hand beneath her nose, she sniffles and lays the letter aside, leaving it unfolded on her pillow as she leaves her room, walks across the hall and into her daughter's room without offering a knock.
Jane and Maura are speaking in hushed voices on the bed, but Angela doesn't bother to excuse herself before she breaks in and wraps her arms tightly around Maura.
She holds onto her tightly and hugs her like a child, burying her face in her shoulder while she attempts to hold back her sappy tears. She resists at first, only out of confusion, but after a moment she wraps her arms around Angela's back and clings to her like a young girl hugging her mommy, never wanting to let go.
But Angela, she realizes, is her mother now.
She's the closest thing she has starting right now.
She's the closest thing she will ever be granted.
She tightens her arms around her and buries her face in her hair.
"I'm so sorry, honey," Angela whispers lightly. "I'm so sorry for everything."
It's okay, I'm fine, she begins to reply, but stops as she feels the air catch in her throat. She holds the words inside instead and resituates her head upon her shoulder, refusing to release the hug.
Jane watches from the side with her arms crossed against her chest, her brow creasing in slight confusion. But once her mother releases Maura to arm's length, smiles, and says one sentence, she understands immediately.
"Welcome home, Maura Dorthea," she whispers.
She read the letter.
"So all this time…" Angela wonders aloud with a twinkle in her eye as she places the coffee pot back into its spot on the maker. Picking up the mug between her hands and bringing it to her lips, she blows gently across the steaming liquid and turns around to face the two women seated at the kitchen table. She smiles lightly. "I wish you would've told me sooner."
Jane snorts and scratches her cheek. "Like you would've accepted it just like that?" She snaps her fingers, smirking.
The mother bows her head, nodding in understanding. "Okay, but still… a hint or two would've been nice."
"Well, I think it's been very clear I'm not quite from around here, Mo—Angela," Maura settles, not yet ready to try on the "mom" word for size.
"I figured you were a gentlewoman," she says with a shrug, taking a cautious sip of her decaf coffee. "A quirky gentlewoman, but it was refreshing to see a young woman with manners." She glances away and sets her eyes on an unfocused spot on the ground, staring blankly for a few minutes before smiling to herself. "You know, I probably should've known better."
"What do you mean?" Jane rubs her tired eyes and attempts to smother a yawn.
Her mother smiles and brings the mug to her lips once more, but stops before she can take a sip. "There were stories, way back when…" she revels in her own memories, still smiling pleasantly to herself. Looking up and meeting the girls' confused faces, she continues, "Grandpa, my grandfather, James, used to tell me these… these stories, or, well, I thought they were stories anyway."
"James told you stories?" Maura questions and leans slightly forward in her chair, eyes curious. "About what?"
She sips thoughtfully and then laughs silently, bringing her eyes to Maura's. "About you," she answers, "and Jane."
Jane's hand stops halfway down her face, fingers on her cheeks, palm curved atop her nose. Her eyes open wide. "Wait," she says, her fatigue fleeting momentarily, "you knew about this? About us?"
"Oh, gosh, no," she admitted, shaking her head in what appears to be thankfulness. "I didn't know about you or your relationship or… well, not per se. I knew your names and," she pauses as though remembering and laughs softly before continuing, "James fibbed some of the stories for my sake and amusement, of course. They weren't all true, but he definitely kept the characters true to their name." She stares between the two for a moment and then lowers her mug. "And if I remember correctly, he described you two almost perfectly."
Maura lowers her head, hiding a bashful smile. "James would," she mumbles in a soft-spoken voice. "James has always had a good eye."
"Has he?" Angela asks, curiosity coating her tone. "I didn't get a chance to get to know him too well. He passed—" she cuts herself off.
"When?" Maura snaps her head up. "He's not young when he… when he passes, tell me he isn't."
"He's seventy when he…" Angela doesn't finish her sentence, but the rest of it is well understood. She sets her mug on the counter as she watches Maura lower her head once again, her light hair falling around her face in a dividing curtain. A pang of guilt pulls at her chest. "Don't worry, hon, he… he lived a good life." She offers a warm smile as Maura raises her head.
A heavy, fatigued silence falls upon the three in the following minutes, and each takes to her thoughts, staring off into the vague distance.
After a moment alone with themselves, Angela speaks and breaks the calm, "You know, Jane, that's where I got your name, ironically."
The daughter looks up, her brow creased for further explanation.
"From the stories," the mother continues with a breathy chuckle. "When I was young, probably no older than six, I always told my grandpa, James, that when I grew up, I'd name my first daughter Jane, just like the strong lead character in all his great tales. And to honor him. You know 'James', 'Jane'. Very similar" She shakes her head and retrieves her mug from the counter, taking a quick sip of the now lukewarm coffee. "I guess now I understand why James and my father used to laugh so much whenever I'd say that…" She trails off and smiles, glancing up to meet her daughter's eyes. "They knew all along I would name you Jane; it was almost written to be before I was even born."
An exhausted laugh escapes from Maura, drawing attention toward her as she lightly ducks her head.
"What?"
"So really," Maura begins, laughter quivering her tone, "you were named after yourself."
Both the mother and daughter are not able to resist a good-humored smirk.
"God, how much did your ma pack for you?" Jane asks as she widens the top of the tan, overstuffed shoulder bag sitting on her bed, the one that Mrs. Isles had sent home with Frost for Maura. Frost had dropped it off earlier that morning and briefly recounted the events. Brevity was hard to avoid, though; he was still awestricken by the entire journey.
"I mean, really," the teenager with brown locks laughs as she pulls out one of the items and shows it to Maura. "Was this really necessary?"
"It's my toque hat," the other girl rebuts, slight offense hiding in her tone, and snatches the item from Jane's hands, bringing it in toward her chest. She stares at it with momentary nostalgia, smiling. "It's my best toque hat, actually, Ms. Rizzoli."
Jane laughs once again and returns her attention back to the still very full bag. It's amazing how much that woman was able to fit in there. It's evident she folded and refolded, stacked and restacked until everything was so-so. She smirks as she pulls out a few folded pairs of Maura's undergarments. "Now see," she says as she sets the folded stack aside, "some of this stuff is useful, but a toque hat?" The girl shakes her head. "I'm afraid you won't be using that very often in the near future."
"You mean to tell me not a single woman in 2008 fancies sporting a toque hat from time to time?"
She watches Jane's back, her response starting with a silent shaking of the shoulders. Laughter, of course. Maura grits her jaw, but smothers a smile of her own. After all, she knows fashion has changed far too much in the past century, and she's not so certain it has changed for the better.
"No woman that I know, Ms. Isles," Jane replies after a moment, keeping her back turned as she continues rummaging through the bag.
"Well," Maura says in a curt voice after a moment, walking up behind the brown locked woman. "I suppose that figure is soon to change, now isn't it, Ms. Rizzoli?" She raises her tone in question and waits until Jane turns around, a smile gracing her lips as she waits.
Jane turns hesitantly, but she stops as she turns around completely and simultaneously loses the ability to keep her jaw in a closed position. It hangs as she stares at the woman before her, who bows her head shyly and hides beneath the sleek toque hat perched atop her slightly fluffed hair. A blush works its way to scatter naturally across her pale cheeks. Jane smiles lightly. "I suppose you're right about that, huh?"
Slowly raising her head, Maura meets Jane's eyes and smiles gently. "Do you mind if I wear it?" she asks, glancing away nervously like a child asking her mother for permission to stay out past ten.
"Do I mind?" Jane laughs and nudges Maura's chin with the knuckle of her index finger. "It's your hat, not mine. I don't think I get much say."
"I know, but… still," Maura trails off and averts her gaze once again. "I want to fit in here."
"Fit in?"
"It's been one-hundred years," she raises her voice as her jaw noticeably tightens in determination, "I'd rather not be the… the queer girl in two different centuries if I can avoid it, Ms. Rizzoli!"
It's her chance to start fresh, Jane realizes after a minute of tense, fallen silence, breaking her eyes away from Maura's as she nods in understanding. "Okay," she agrees and places her hands lightly on the other girl's waist and rubs her thumbs absentmindedly across the top of her hipbones. "And you won't be."
"Oh, damn it, I will be, won't I?" she questions, a wail in her voice as she goes to knock the hat off her head and send it flying to the floor to, hopefully, remain unused.
But, Jane stops the motion and grabs her wrist in midflight. "No," she settles plainly, yet confidently.
Maura lets her hand go limp in Jane's grip, and she looks away, her features sinking. "You're just saying that…"
"No, I'm not," Jane insists and releases Maura's wrist.
Her arm falls to her side.
She keeps her head bowed, eyes turned away.
"Maura, I… it's different now," Jane continues after a moment. Her tone is softer, quieter than before. "I know I can't promise it'll be perfect, but it'll be different. You have to believe me there." She goes to cup Maura's chin with her hand, but Maura shies away from the touch. "Come on, Maur… don't you remember all those people at the mall? You thought they had war paints smeared across their eyes and skin. They were weird, you said so yourself." Noticing a smile tug at the corner of Maura's lips, she tries again and succeeds at nudging her chin until their eyes are forced to meet by close proximity. "And you in a toque hat?" she asks, lips pulling into a smirk. She shrugs. "Sure, you'll get a couple stares, but I don't think they'll be staring at you because you look weird."
Maura bats her eyelids and lowers her head slightly, another blush rising to flare across her cheeks. "Then why will they be staring?" she asks, false naivety coating her voice.
The smirk on Jane's lips transforms into a smile as she releases a breathy laugh between her teeth and steals a glance up at the toque hat resting atop Maura's head. She returns her gaze back to Maura's and admits, "Probably the same reason I keep staring."
"Oh?" Maura smothers a smirk and parts her lips to form a gentle o. "And why's that?"
Jane shakes her head and resists the urge to fill the gap between her love's lips, ducking her head slightly as she wraps her arms around Maura's waist instead and draws their bodies a little closer together. "I think you know the reason perfectly well, Ms. Isles."
"Do I?"
Jane smirks again and steals Maura's lips in a kiss that she cuts short—far too short. "Yes," she says as she forces her lips away, but lingers nearby, "you do." She presses their lips together one more time, for clarification.
Maura smiles, as they break apart. "Oh, that reason."
They break apart a minute later as the floorboards creak beneath the carpet outside of the bedroom door. It was probably only Angela, but the two step apart, regardless, and share a friendly, secretive smile as they turn their attention to the open bag on the bed, still half-full with items.
Maura reaches in and pulls out a small pile of neatly folded dresses. She looks through them and places them on Jane's bed, smiling lightly. After a moment's thought, she removes the toque hat from her head and situates it atop the pile of folded clothes, all items of the twentieth century clumped together.
She stares at the items from her home laid out across Jane's bed and can't help but smile. For some odd reason, the items don't appear as foreign as she expected them to, and, she realizes with a change of heart, she doesn't feel so foreign either.
Surprisingly, she feels oddly at home.
She's identical to all the pictures, Jane's grandfather notes as he opens the door and moves to the side to allow them in, his eyes set upon Maura with a familiar gaze, one that holds anything but that look of laying eyes on a stranger for the first time. He watches as the young woman enters his home and attempts to slouch her posture to imitate that of Jane's. The grandfather smiles and shakes his head as he closes the door behind them. "Well, I suppose a welcome home, Maura Dorthea, is in order?" he greets with a kind grin and extends his hand.
Maura shakes it lightly, obviously afraid of the man's old age and frail appearance. "Thank you," she replies in a soft, reserved tone. She's hesitant and draws her hand away shyly, rubbing her elbows out of uncertainty.
Jane clears her throat after a moment of strained silence. "Um, Grandma, on the phone you mentioned you wanted to show something to us? A plant or something?"
The grandmother straightens up and smiles in remembrance. "Oh, yes, yes, right," she agrees and begins heading through the kitchen doorway. "Angela, honey, you'll simply love these seeds I found the other week," she continues, her voice drifting as Jane ushers her mother and brother out of the living room, leaving Maura and her grandfather alone.
Watching the kitchen door swing shut to its natural position behind Jane, Maura looks away and takes a deep breath. Her eyes settle upon the grandfather, who gingerly lowers himself into a red recliner situated at an angle beside a ratty old couch. The older man catches her gaze and smiles, motioning for her to take a seat.
She complies and sets herself on the seat cushion closest to the old man.
"So, Maura Dorthea—"
"Maura," she corrects, blushing at her own rudeness. "Please, I insist."
The grandfather smiles, his lips rounding around his pearly white dentures. "Okay, Maura, tell me, how are you adjusting?"
"Um," she pauses and glances at her lap, taking a moment to pull at the new skinny jeans wrapped around her slender thighs. Angela had taken her on a "shopping spree," as she had called it, a few days before. The new clothes, though, are taking a bit longer of an adjustment period than she had expected. The clothes are just so… itchy. Surprisingly, she would have rather stuck to dresses, but Jane insisted that she try wearing "jeans", as Jane had called them. Smoothing the denim, she continues, "I'm adjusting as quickly as I can." She offers a shrug. "It's easier some days than others."
"Mm," the older man hums and nods in understanding, lightly rocking the recliner chair back and forth. "And you've been here how long now?"
"One month, two weeks, and four days."
The grandfather laughs wholeheartedly. "Not that you're counting or anything," he replies, the wrinkles across his face more defined in his laughter.
The younger woman spares a gentle laugh as well and uncrosses her legs only to cross them again a moment later. "It's a date I'll always remember, I guess."
"Of course, of course." The grandfather coughs lightly as silence falls upon the two once more. "So, you've started school here now, yes? Angela told me about the trouble with getting you into the right classes without a previous report card or school records or anything."
"Mhm…"
"How is school?" he asks for lack of better conversation. He frowns at the rigidness of their conversation. Their meeting shouldn't be this strained. He feels as though he's conducting an interview with a timid high school student.
Maura shifts on the couch and straightens her posture, her inborn habits taking charge. "School is… okay," she answers mechanically, shrugging. "It's different from what I'm used to, and the students are very… vocal. Mother would be appalled if she were to hear the words that come from the lips of some of those kids, and right in front of the teacher, too!" She shakes her head in surprise. "Apparently a lot has changed."
"Apparently so," the grandfather responds with another bout of laughter. "And the classes?"
"Well, class is class, I suppose," Maura says with a slight laugh. "But my literature teacher seems to adore my grammar usage, oh, and history class is quite fascinating! Our teacher went over the… the syllabus, I think is what he called it, on the first day of class and can you believe he plans on teaching up through 2008 by the end of the year? That means we're going to cover the future…" he trails off, a smile pinned across his lips.
"Your future, anyhow," the older man adds on and grins at the girl's awestruck expression.
Maura closes her jaw. "Right, well… I guess it's the past, even for me now, right? Since I'm here now, for…" she pauses, hesitating with her words, "for good."
The grandfather's smile twitches, but he reaches over and pats the girl's knee. "You're a strong young woman, you know that?" he asks and receives a thankful smile. "You know," he continues and squeezes Maura's knee reassuringly, "my father admired you very, very much."
"James?"
"Mhm, he looked up to."
Maura lowers her head and averts her eyes, scoffing in a slightly bitter manner. "He shouldn't have."
"You're his older sister, of course he'd look up to you—"
"I'm his older sister who ran away," Maura shoots back in interruption, her voice rising. She looks back at her brother's son, a man who is currently sixty-some years older than she, and quickly glances away once again. How does this even make sense? He's that old, I'm this young, and yet I was born before he was. This wouldn't be happening if I weren't such a… such a… "I'm a coward."
"Maura Dorthea," the older man speaks softly a minute later, his tone caring. "Don't say that."
"But it's true!" she bites back and finally meets the other man's wrinkled face. Tears prick at her eyes. "I was too afraid to face my own mother and father, and so I ran. I took the easy way out. The only reason I'm sitting here right now is because I'm too much of a coward to stick around and deal with my problems like a proper woman should," she settles as the words that she believes to be true sting at her ears.
"The only reason you're sitting here right now, Maura Dorthea," the grandfather corrects gently, "is because this is how it's meant to be."
Maura darts her eyes to the floor. "Destiny, again, you mean."
"Mm," he hums neither in agreement nor disagreement. "Even if you were more of a woman, you would've followed Jane last month. You two would've been caught, she would've tried to bring you here, you would have said no at first, and in the end you still would have jiggled that pipe's handle."
The girl scoffs. "You say it like I have no choice over anything."
"Maura, if you hadn't followed Jane and agreed to stay here, in 2008, there's chance I might not even exist." Maura raises her eyes and meets the grandfather's face with a troubled, scrunched up brow. "What you did, Maura," the older man continues, "has so much control over what is today, and, if you ask me, no coward is ever given that much power." He squeezes the younger woman's knee one more time.
"Thank you, for everything," Maura whispers as she ends her embrace with her aged nephew, Jane's grandfather, on the front stoop. Angela and Frankie are already in the car, and Jane is a few strides away on the front walk, patiently waiting and overhearing.
The older man nods with a knowing smile. "Of course."
The younger woman smiles softly. "It's wonderful finally meeting you."
"Oh, this isn't the first time we've met," the grandfather says only to receive another look of confusion from his young aunt. He smiles and shakes his head. "You wouldn't know yet, though," he continues, a glint of secretive humor in his eyes, "I was much younger, and you and Jane were a couple decades older than you are now."
An awestricken smile closes Maura's jaw. Any mention of this entire time travel business has grown to simply fascinate her to no end. She glances over her shoulder at Jane and her smile thickens. After all, her nephew had said Jane's name in mention of an event that's yet to happen for her. That must mean they're still together in the future, mustn't it?
Jane smiles in response. "You ready to head home now?"
Maura returns her attention to the man standing in the doorway to his home, who nods once. "Okay," she says and embraces the fragile man in one last quick hug, "goodbye for now."
The grandfather waves as the car pulls away from the front curb.
57 58 59
56
Maura smiles as the seconds return to zero alongside the hour and minutes, all categories currently displaying big, digital-looking zeroes. Jane cheers beside her, and Angela clinks her champagne glass to Frankie's sparkling-grape-juice-filled glass.
Smiles all around.
She can hear the hollers and clashing of pots and pans from outside as young adults decide to ring in the new year with a boisterous grand welcome.
Rowdy welcomes she's used to, but even still there's something different, something missing. Back home, New Year was always joyful and jovial, but it held a hint of reservation. It was always more reserved than this.
But this is home, she reminds herself again and again, taking a sip of the sparkling-grape-juice Angela had poured for her.
It's different from home, to say the least, but she's already established this fact on many occasions. It would be a lie to say she is fully adjusted and comfortable. It would be a lie to say she never thinks of her real home and never, ever misses it. She is human, after all. She has no super human strengths, no ability to completely forget the past. She is graced with no eerily fast adjustment period. She is a girl of eighteen years who left home for bigger and greater things.
As the minutes on the digital clock change from zero to one, a sense of finality washes over her and settles in her chest, as though the change is set for good. She's here now, in the twenty-first century, bringing in 2009 like any other eighteen-year-old.
Any feeling of being able to escape and return back to the 1900s is erased, as though to say it's too late now.
With her smile unnoticeably faltering, Maura tugs lightly on the sleeve of Jane's sweater.
Jane looks away from the glowing television screen, showing a montage of celebrators across the world, and turns her attention to the girl at her side. A smile trickles across her lips and pulls them back to reveal her teeth.
A blush works its way to warm Maura's cheeks as Jane leans forward and captures her lips in their first kiss of the new year. It's a gentle, tender kiss that lasts no more than several seconds, yet it has the ability to make Maura's lower abdomen tighten and her knees to weaken.
As they pull apart, Maura's hand finds its way from Jane's sleeve downward until their fingers lace together in a perfect weave.
"You okay?" Jane asks after letting her eyes scamper across her love's features.
Maura smiles and squeezes Jane's hand in her own. "I am now," she replies in a soft voice. "I am now."
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review or comment. They literally make my day. And, I just like to know what you all are thinking or feeling.
