Bright cerulean blue sky, all around. It was the first thing he could make out.
Still standing and blinking in the bright unfiltered sunshine, Arthur slowly realized he could hear music mingling with the soft purring sound of the ocean waves before him; it was close—very close. Guitar picking. Quiet and soft, though quick. And the male voice was calm and serene.
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"My, oh my, Lord. I just can't hardly wait. We've been worn down, in the hardest ways. Long night's over, and I'm starting to believe I'm not as broken as some made me out to be." ["Running for So Long," Parker Ainsworth, you tu . be /zIeOP-vmBEM ]
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Looking around for the source of the music, he followed it to finally glance down at his hand. And he found that he was holding it, whatever was playing the music. Only as an afterthought did he register that he was wearing no shirt, only shorts.
The thing playing music was small—it fit in his hand—and rectangular, with a surface that looked like black glass. When he brought his thumb around the front, it lit up, displaying a picture of himself, Eliza, Isaac, and Hope—they must've been around eight and five—caught in a moment of laughter with a beautiful spread of mountains and pine trees behind them.
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"What makes a house a home? Been runnin' for so long. When I met you, I couldn't let you… What makes a house a home?"
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And displayed over the picture in white font, was what he could only guess was the day's date: July 24, 2019.
He lifted his brows.
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"Time moves fast now, like tires on the road. But I don't mind it; I always dreamed to go. Long night's over, and I'm starting to believe—"
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Suddenly the picture on the device disappeared, and the whole thing began vibrating violently in his hand, incessantly blaring out some sort of loud ringing, again and again.
Arthur's mouth pulled tight in a nervous, open frown at the feeling of its furious buzzing. And not knowing what to do besides get it away, he simply opened his hand wide and dropped it with a clumsy, fumbled bounce.
"Ope! There's my reminder! Time for sunscreen!" he heard a familiar voice sing.
Still looking down at the rectangular device where it had landed on a blanket atop the sand, he watched her hand reach out and take it. With a flick of her finger across it, the ringing ended, and the song resumed. And as the male voice sang, "I'm not as broken as some made me out to be," his gaze lifted to find all three of them, there on the blanket.
And a female voice joined in for the chorus as notes of deep piano and quiet, staccato percussion joined the picked guitar strings.
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"What makes a house a home? Been runnin' for so long. When I met you, I couldn't let you… What makes a house a home?"
.
"Come on, Isaac, you're first," she said. She was on her knees, her back and thighs up straight rather than sitting back on her calves. She wore a black hat with a domed crown and a big, floppy brim that hid her almost entirely from Arthur's view. But he could see that she also wore a black one-piece bathing suit with a very low-cut back.
"Oh, no, Mama, no! I hate it..." Isaac griped with a deep frown.
"I know you do, but you need it. Come on."
"I hate it so much."
She laughed. "You're just like your father." She pointed before herself in the sand. "Come stand right here in front of me. Come on."
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"What makes a house a home? Been runnin' for so long."
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Arthur could only stand there, watching, as his now eight-year-old son walked over and stood before his mother. The thought struck him that he was two years older than he'd ever been when he'd known him.
"How 'bout if I have it everywhere but my face?" Isaac asked, hus intonation making it sound more like a statement.
"No-ho!" she laughed. "You need it on your face too. Look, the tops a' your cheeks are already gettin' a little pink."
"That's 'cause it's hot."
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"When I met you, I couldn't let you... What makes a house a home?"
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Wordless, Arthur watched Eliza squeeze white cream from a tube and slather it across Isaac's arms, chest, belly, back, and neck, as Isaac pouted and slowly inched and pulled away, maybe not even realizing what he was doing.
She scoffed a laugh when she tried to rub it onto his face, and he turned and grimaced sourly. "Come back here, you," she wrangled him back by the wrist. "Just...scrunch up your eyes and mouth. Then you can be sure it won't get in. I'll take care a' the rest."
Isaac promptly squished up his face and pulled his lips inward, his disgust and disdain still blatantly apparent as he tried to keep from wriggling and turning away. "But I still smell it!" he said.
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"Been runnin' for so long. Been runnin' for so long."
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"Hope, you're next, don't go anywhere," she said.
"Okie!" Hope said, coming to stand beside Isaac in her yellow and white daisy polka-dot patterned bathing suit and watching the whole affair. "But sunscreen is poopy yucky!"
Eliza stilled, slumped her shoulders, and tipped her head as she looked at her son. Meanwhile his face had pinched up into a knowing, mischievous grin. "Isaac, quit teachin' your sister to say that sunscreen is 'poopy yucky'!"
With scrunched shoulders, he smiled wide and displayed his newly-grown-in adult front teeth. His low giggle ended in a squeak. "She just thinks that; I didn't teach her."
"Yes, you did. I know, 'cause that's exactly what you used to say when you were about two and you didn't like somethin'. That's baby talk, Hope, you're a big girl. And anyways, if she hates sunscreen so much, why's she standin' there waitin' her turn?"
Taking a split moment to process her point, Isaac conceded via grumbling. "Am I done yet?"
"Almost. Gotta get your ears. You don't want 'em to turn into pig skin, do you?"
Both children's faces contorted with disbelief as they guffawed in disgust.
"No way! That wouldn't happen," Isaac said.
"Better believe it. Crispy and crunchy as fried pig skin."
With a look of slightly concerned contemplation, Hope slowly brought both little hands over her ears under her bright honey-colored curls that caught the sun's rays. "I think maybe sunscreen is good for us, Bubbie."
Though he wore painfully drawn brows, a small, huffed chuckle involuntarily rose through his chest like a bubble and worked its way onto his mouth.
His babygirl that he'd never gotten to know.
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"Been runnin' for so long. Been runnin' for so long."
.
Arthur watched Eliza finish up with Isaac's ears and continue rubbing away the white streaks on his face—his freckled cheeks, his forehead—with quick, practiced motions. Finally, she brought her fingertips through the goldenrod hair at his forehead, quickly combing and swiping it back upon his crown with the residue on her fingers. It was like she subconsciously couldn't let herself give him up. Her touch was so free, so familiar and loving. Parent and son.
And oh, how Arthur wished that her fingertips were his own. Wished he could move from this spot to reach out with his own hand and freely comb his son's hair, caress his cheek, and pinch his chin before quickly kissing him and releasing him to play.
"All right, Hope. Your turn," Eliza said as Isaac quickly darted behind her to peruse the spread of goodies on the blanket, grabbing a slice of watermelon from an open plastic container.
"An' don't let any sand get on the yummy snacks, okay?" he said.
"'Course not," Eliza said as she began to rub sunscreen onto Hope's skin. "No sand on the yummy snacks."
Hope simply stood there, her body loosely jostling with her mother's quick, gentle motions. She suddenly scrunched her nose. "It does smell bad."
A bubbly chuckle arose from her mother's nose as she ducked her head a bit. "It does, doesn't it?"
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"What makes a house a home? Been runnin' for so long."
.
Arthur watched Isaac bring the edge of the watermelon slice to his mouth and mindlessly munch it. Arthur could hear the crunch of its crisp flesh and his son's immediate slurp of its faintly sweet juice. And without looking up, Isaac asked, "Want shum, Daddy?"
He couldn't seem to respond. Isaac was so near. So near, he could see the individual feather-light, pinprick freckles danced across his nose and cheeks. The individual lashes as he looked down. So blissful and at rest. So at home, and wholly trusting with both parents. It wasn't even a thought in his head. Clearly, they were a close unit. Open and honest, embracing, steadfastly loving. And Isaac's peace and contentment were simply, naturally resultant.
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"When I met you, I couldn't let you... Oh, I'm tired of bein' alone."
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As Eliza finished with Hope, Isaac dropped his watermelon slice and made ready to dart towards the water with his sister.
"Wait, wait!" Eliza said just before they started to run. She made sure her son turned to look her in the eyes. "Isaac, your father and I are gonna watch you two, but you keep an eye on your sister, okay?"
He nodded. "Mkay."
She looked at both children. "Don't either of your go far from the blanket. When you're in the water, don't ever turn your back on the waves. And I don't want you goin' in deeper than your tummy."
"Okay!" Isaac said and turned to start running towards the water.
But Hope just stood there, her face pinched up, and her mouth pulled tight. It wasn't until that moment that Eliza realized she'd been wiggling and dancing for the past several seconds.
"Mama, I gotta go!" she strained in a whisper.
"Oh, baby, why didn't you go before we came down to the sand?"
"I didn't have to go then!" she mumbled. "An' now I'm already in my swimsuit, and the potty's far away! I dunno what to do!"
Arthur heard Eliza breathe a little laugh through her nose. He watched her bend forward a bit and speak quietly and slowly to her.
"Just run into the ocean...and let it out."
Arthur watched Hope lift her brows as a smile slowly crept up onto her mouth, revealing her little baby teeth. "Really?"
Eliza nodded.
"Are you sure? Nobody'll get mad?"
"Nobody'll ever know, sweet girl! Wait—you don't have to go number two, right?"
Hope shook her head. "No. Just number one."
"Good. Don't worry about it; you'll be fine. Go on."
Hope kissed her mother and ran off with her brother.
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"My, oh my, Lord. Just can't hardly wait."
.
Arthur watched the two bosom friends scurry off together as the music grew quiet and level.
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"We've been worn down, in the hardest ways."
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"I wanna find sand dollars, and build a sandcastle, with shells and a feather on top!" Hope's father could hear her say.
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"Long night's over, and I'm starting to believe..."
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"'Course we're gonna. It'll be the best one ever, in the whole wide world!" her brother agreed. "But after we play in the water for a little bit."
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"I'm not as broken as some made me out to be."
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"Isaac," Arthur suddenly heard himself finally manage to quietly call. He was grateful when his son stopped as if snagged by a hook and spun around to look at him, while Hope ran ahead a few paces and paused to wait for him. The sunshine flooded from behind, and Arthur could just barely make out the features of his young son's face. When Arthur spoke, his voice in his throat was hardly more than a breeze rushing over dry earth. "I love you, son."
Isaac's cheeks broadened into a shimmering smile, and it was by far one of the most beautiful things Arthur had ever seen. "Love you too, Daddy."
Arthur's eyelids fluttered weakly, and his heart murmured, and he found himself swallowing hard past a painful boulder in his throat. "Tell your sister too."
Quickly turning to resume his jolly sprint, Isaac said to Hope, "Daddy says he loves you."
Hope promptly stopped, turned to look back at him, lifted her arm straight up into the air, and frantically waved her little hand. "Love you too, Daddy!" she shouted with a big, bright smile.
From behind and to his left, Arthur heard a tinkling giggle lilt through the air before it pleasantly mellowed.
"Oh, how they both love their daddy..."
When the first song ended, a new one immediately began to play, starting with whisper-soft guitar strums; and the quiet male voice, quivering and slow, though steady and measured:
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"From the start of spring to the autumn leaves, and the summers and winters between." ["You'll Always Be My Girl," Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors, you tu . be /vMWigdDPW6o ]
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With brows drawn ever so slightly, Arthur slowly began to turn as the addition of smooth piano came beside the guitar.
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"When the river is wide, and the same one is dry, and the wind blows hard through the trees."
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"Could you hand me my iced tea, baby?"
There she was, somehow filled in every cell with an easy grace, even in her rest. Somehow just as well, all ready wit and spunk and fortitude. Brimming with a joy, and a lust for life, and a love. Reclining on the blanket against a stack of rolled towels in her big floppy-brimmed black hat and black bathing suit, long legs crossed at the ankles, looking down at a thick novel opened in her hands, situated beneath her breasts.
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"Even if we're dead broke, with no place to go. Even when the shadows are strong... You'll always be, you'll always be, you'll always be..."
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And as the male voice sang the words, "my girl…" and the piano swelled warm and low, Arthur's gaze waded down to the spot just underneath her book, where her belly swelled in a small but clear and prominent teardrop shape.
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"When the harvest is plenty, and it feels like it should. When the fruit is ripe on the vine."
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He took in a breath, and dropped to his knees, his eyes glued to the bulge of her belly. Both hands seemed to reach out of their own accord, and in less than a moment, he felt the thick, stretchy material of her black bathing suit give and move under his fingers.
Though he didn't realize it, she'd quietly shut her book and set it aside.
"We did it," he breathed. "How did we…?"
The corner of her mouth began to flick up. "You need me to…remind you?"
.
"Then the rain falls, and the flood comes, and it feels like the end of the line."
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His eyelids fluttered at her words, as if caught in the middle of a daydream. His head swayed just a bit, and he nodded loosely.
"You look a bit mystified, Mr. Morgan," he heard her softly say. Patient, though angling for the truth of his feelings from him like a lure in lake water.
He pushed himself to speak, though it was as if his tongue was stuck in dried mud. "I only…meant that…" he managed, lifting his gaze to look up.
There, finally, were her eyes. Her pale, jewel-like green eyes. And only then did he realize they'd been glued to him the whole time.
"Just meant that…we did it, didn't we? Got away," he slowly drawled. "Made a life."
As she sat up and pulled her knees up just a bit, they kept their eyes on each other's. And when she came closer, he looked back and forth into her eyes, his tone shrinking to an almost unbearable quiet, though he couldn't have achieved more if he'd tried.
"Made a life, with each other," he swallowed. "We did…didn't we?" he whispered, the airy quality of his soft voice almost like a cry as she tenderly brought a gentle hand to his cheek.
She took a few more moments to let her gaze linger in his, as if a moment in time could be savored like the finest of culinary delights.
It was a mutual recognition, a breathing. Taking in the things they'd come through, whom they'd managed to hold onto. Knowing they were richly, unfathomably blessed. Letting the tide take back out what was not theirs to change. And a settling. Like grains of sand shaken to rest beside each other. Wanting nothing more than that.
"Yes, we did, sweetheart," she said. With no added flair or pretense, Arthur knew. The look of weighted love and heavy understanding in her eyes was real. "Yes. We did."
Sliding her hand to the back of his neck, she slowly drew him in for a hug, in time with her subtly growing smile.
As they pressed themselves into the crooks of each other's necks, Arthur heard what at first sounded to him like a sniff. But after a moment he realized it was more than that, mingled together—the huff of a joyous laugh, if the smile he felt against his skin meant anything.
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"Even if we are lost, and we're counting the cost, we will hold onto each other..."
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He let himself close his eyes and feel her breathe against him as he brought a big hand to her back.
After several moments like that, she was taking in laugh after quietly huffed laugh in her emotion and sheer joy. She suddenly reached up and quickly transferred the big hat from her head, to his as they pulled apart, and her blonde hair cascaded about her in waves.
He found himself smiling at the sound of her growing laugh. Just like himself, she'd always carried a bit of childlikeness with her. Maybe unlike himself, she'd always known how to enjoy things with her whole heart.
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"You'll always be, you'll always be, you'll always be my girl…"
.
"Look!" they suddenly heard shouts made quiet by being afar off. "They're gettin' kissy agaaain!"
As a beautifully tranquil piano solo began, they both turned towards the ocean to see their children cackling, pointing and waving as they splashed in the ocean.
"No peekin'!" Eliza lifted her voice to say with a smile. She quickly took the hat from off his head and held it up to cover their faces.
And before Arthur knew it, they were almost nose to nose, and he was gazing at her in the dim, mottled shade cast by the thatched hat.
"Arthur," she whispered, looking him straight in the eyes just as the piano solo grew light in pitch and pared off. "Kiss me."
He glanced down at her mouth for no more than a split second.
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"You'll always be, you'll always be, you'll always be…my girl…"
.
He didn't need to be told twice. It would be a gentle kiss; he'd make sure of it. One filled with care, and respect, and deep love, and everything he felt for her. The meeting of soul and soul, and body and body, with no mockery or duplicity or uncertainty. One that said it all. One that made her feel it; he had to make sure of it.
But as he closed his eyes, a whirring whistle filled his ears, growing louder until he felt a thud in his body, and the sound ended at once.
As he opened his eyes, he found himself standing somewhere he recognized. A clearing filled to overflowing with wildflowers—cornflower blue, and pale purple, and white—scattered here and there. When he looked to his left, he saw a breathtaking ridge of indigo mountains at the edge of the clearing reaching up to the sky, bordered by stately evergreen pines.
He'd once come here with Isaac and Eliza.
As he took in the sky, he noticed both metallic sun and glistening moon were in their perches, creating a mist-like blend of pale blue and soft purple across the horizon, though there was plenty of light to see clearly, and a cool clime on his skin.
He glanced down at himself and saw that he was in his soft, worn blue striped shirt that he wore from time to time, his black work pants, and rugged boots. But his hands were whistle clean. At the thought, he reached up and felt that his black leather hat was missing.
He turned and saw a quiet stream nearby, its crystal-clear waters ideal for a reflection. Taking a few steps toward it, he looked down to find that he was his current age, the age he'd been when he'd fallen asleep—no more, no less.
"Arthur," he heard, as if whispered as closely as behind his left ear.
And knowing the voice, he snapped his head up to look around. No one there.
"Arthur," he heard again, in the same voice, whispered soft as a feather.
He turned. And though there was no one there, he knew what he'd heard, and he could've sworn, he felt breath on his right ear.
"Arthur..." Yet again. Slowly. Elongated. And like an echo, it was behind him, then before him.
Following it, clutching to the air in his lungs, he jerked himself this way and that, spinning, desperate to find the source.
.
Dearest Readers,
I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post. The last couple weeks have been, hoo!, an exhausting, tough whirlwind for me. I'm hoping to have some calmer, restful time in the next few weeks.
With that said, I need to let you know that the next chapter is a BIG deal and will probably take me a while to get posted. I'm excited about it, because it's so meaningful to me. I've had some of it written for a long time, since before the end of "Only Fools Hold onto Hope." But I still need to write more, and I need to take my time with it to make sure I get it as perfect as possible and as close as I can to what I want it to be. It's also one of the last big chapters in this whole series, so I want to try to enjoy the process of writing it.
I'd really like to let you all know 2 things. Firstly, I've posted the other work I mentioned. It's called "Treasure to Me." (I had to officially label it "Arthur x OC [original character]" because I guess reader-inserts are not technically allowed on this site. Whoops! I think it's no biggie, but hopefully readers will view me graciously/with indulgence and I don't get kicked off or something. I honestly don't think the work will see much traffic.) No pressure to read it, but if you do, I hope you enjoy it. Maybe that will help tide you over a bit until the next chapter. *smiley face*
Secondly, I've officially written my first scene in response to an ask-prompt-thingy on Tumblr. *smiley* It's about Arthur & Eliza and what it would be like if they got tattoos for each other. If you'd like, you can find it at my Tumblr blog, rivetingrosie4, in my masterpost page under "Asks." Or here, removing spaces and parentheses: rivetingrosie4. ( tumblr ) . ( c o m ) / fics Also, if you ever think of something you'd like to see me take a stab at writing, please don't hesitate to submit an "ask" to me there. *smiley* (It can be anonynous!)
Readers, while I hope your excitement about each chapter was renewed just a little bit for a little while, I know the plot and style was not for everyone. Thank you for sticking it out with me, if you did. The next chapter will reveal answers to your questions. And we'll have a bit more to go after that.
A big, huge thank-you to Paige, Ariana, Will, Caroline, David, Raven, Josh, LJ, and each and every single guest-reviewer!
Paige and Ariana, you are always so kind and wonderful. Paige, I was especially touched and grateful for your recent review on "Treasure to Me." It sincerely encouraged me both as a person, and to keep going with that work when I can.
Will, thank you so much for letting me know my writing has encouraged you through tough and exhausting days. I'm so grateful it's helped, and knowing that really means a lot to me.
Josh, I'm blown away by your incredibly sweet review sharing your and your wife's experience with childbirth and meeting your child. What you shared is so beautiful, it brings me close to crying. I'm so grateful you felt my portrayal was accurate to real life childbirth. And I'm so very grateful that you and your wife know you're both immensely blessed.
I'm so so beyond grateful to have every single one of you readers here! It seems there might be around 15 (?) of you?! Which is absolutely mind-boggling to me! And the words you use to describe how you feel about my writing?! ("incredible, spectacular, exhilarating, addicting, awesome, amazing") - WOWWW! - You guys are so so so so kind to me, and I sincerely couldn't ask for sweeter readers. You are each so tremendously encouraging to me. Even just to know you're here means more than I can say.
Truly hope you're well and love to all,
Rosie