By West Wind
Rating: PG
Pairing: 4XC
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.
Monday comes with no leads, so I head to a placement agency. The lady looks over my forms and is cheerful and very positive that she will be able to place me in a job quickly. I shake her hand and leave.
On the way home I pick up a notebook to store for the stories I find
myself creating on the side. I now have a stack of notebook paper filled
with stories in various states of completion. I have collected them by
making up stories about other people's lives and other places. Some are
from when I take paper and pen with me on my walks, and when something
catches my attention, I write about it or him or her. I end up with a lot
of one-page descriptions of people or places, but when I search for words
to describe the uniqueness of what I am seeing, it helps me see what is
around me in a richer light. Instead of someone having short brown hair,
I compare it to someone else that is brown and try to distinguish the difference
in hue and find words to paint the proper mental image. It becomes almost
a game for me to pass the time and keep my mind occupied.
The phone rings, and I answer.
"Miss Bloom," says a familiar voice of the lady at the placement agency I visited the other week, "I have a job that I think you would be perfect for," she says excitedly.
"Really?" I question. "What is it?"
"The Winner residence is looking for domestic help," she continues enthusiastically.
"What sort of domestic help?" I inquire.
"Oh, most of the job description would fall under the category of a maid," she says, "but the Winner estate is an excellent place to work."
While she droned on about how every one would jump at the chance to even get an interview, and I was so lucky they wanted to interview me, I considered what I was being offered. The thought of being a maid did not thrill me, but at this point, almost two months since the circus closed, a job is a job. It was something I could do. It involved cleaning, laundry, maybe some cooking. The clincher for me was the job came with a place to stay as part of the package. I agreed to the interview.
The next day I arrive at the agency nervous and not sure what to expect. I am escorted into a room where an older woman awaited me. Her silver hair is up in a bun on the top of her head. She has on a white blouse with a black jacket and black skirt. She smiles up at me as I enter.
"Good, you're punctual," she says as if I passed the first test. "Please, have a seat, Miss Bloom."
I sit down and pull out a crisp copy of my resume. I slide it across the desktop to her. She accepts it gracefully and briefly scans it before she introduces herself as Mrs. Gilbert, head of the Winner household staffing, and starts asking me questions and telling me about the job.
She quickly puts me at ease, and we hit it off almost immediately. She is intrigued with my past life at the circus and asks a few questions about my time there.
"My dear," she says almost grandmotherly, "I think you will be an excellent addition to our staff, if you would like the job."
My jaw almost hits the floor. I can not believe I got the job that quickly. I accept once I get my mouth working. Mrs. Gilbert tells me to stop by tomorrow morning between 9 and 10 to fill out paperwork and orientation and gives my instructions of how to get there. With that we depart, and I head home.
I knew of the Winner Corporation. Who didn't? I did not know much about the accrual people of the family though. As I thing about the job, a story idea jumps into my head. It teases me as I walk home and delights me with the plot I am devising. As soon as I enter my apartment, I grab paper and pen to sketch my new story plot out on.
I date the top of the page just to give me an idea of the time it takes me to compete a story. It is something for my own records. I find it nice to know how long I have been working of a story and am amazed at how one story will practically write itself, while another I just can not finish. Now I start writing.
The story is fiction and highly improbably to happen in real life, but it calls to me to be written. It is about a woman, named Pat, who is down on her luck and lands a job working for a rich family. I know it sounds a bit autobiographical, but that is where the similarities stop. Pat falls for one of the sons of the family. In the end they fall in love. I have not figured out all the twists and turns yet, but they will come to me.
I give Pat a brief history and tell how she finds the job. I write about the first time she meets Nick, the son she will fall in love with. I turn to a new page and start outlining various possible situations the two can find themselves in that will help them realize their love for one another (It is going to be a sappy story most probably.) I have not decided who will fall in love with whom first yet, as well as, many other factors. I do have in mind the part where they confess their feelings, and I start that on a new page. Pat decided that she could not work there any more. Every time she saw Nick all she wanted to do was be in his arms. She knew that would never happen. Sure he would often talk with her, but she could not see him taking an interest in her romantically. She was the hired help and only average in appearance. She had seen the women he associated with. They were rich, elegant, well educated, and mostly gorgeous. All the things she was not.
She had a job lined up at a local department store and was now ready to turn in her two-week notice. She planed on placing the notice on Mr. Campbell's desk to await his return. She would tell the others when he got back from the sudden weekend trip he took the family on.
Pat entered the office, set the paper on the desk, and turned to walk out. She faltered when she found Nick behind her. All she could think was he should not be here. He looked quizzically at her before removing her paper from his father's desk. He read the few lines, and Pat took the opportunity to leave the room without questions.
"Why?" he asked halting her escape.
"It's just time for me to move on," she said without turning around to look at him afraid he would be able to read the reason she was leaving on her face.
She heard him approach. A hand rested on her shoulder and gently turned her around. She found herself staring into his dark eyes.
"Where will you be going?" he asked.
"I have a job lined up with Kinly's," she replied trying to resist the urge to run or kiss him.
He was so close, she wanted to touch him.
"Have we done something to make you unhappy?" he asked concerned as he watched her for any sign of a reason to this sudden decision.
Pat did not know what to say. She fidgeted a bit and glanced at the floor. Nick tilted her head up to look at him. The adorable look on his face was too cute. Pat let her hand lightly touch his cheek. At this point she figured the worse that would happen was she lost her job sooner than two weeks.
"I have to leave because I am in love with you," she answered.
She closed her eyes at her admission and waited for what would come. She heard no words come from Nick's mouth, and with each passing second her anxiety grew. Her eyes flew open when a pair of lips were pressed against hers. Then she melted into the kiss. Her knees began to buckle, and Nick caught her with a whispered, "I love you, too."
She was shocked. Her mind reeled with the fact that he returned her feelings. Nick brushed a strand of hair from her face smiling at her.
"Am I dreaming?" Pat whispered.
"No, you are not dreaming" Nick reassured. "And sometimes fairytales
do come true," he added before kissing her again.
My pen swiftly fills the lines with my story. I pause occasionally to work
out what a character would say or do next in a situation. When I finally
get it out of my system, I look up at the clock and find it is almost midnight.
I have to go to bed, yet I flip through the pages I have spent the evening
creating. I jot down a few comments for improvements here and there before
placing the pages into a notebook and crawling into bed.
I find the address and come in through the side service entrance as instructed. Even from this entrance the house is impressive. The house is huge and elegantly designed. I walk up the drive that is flanked on either side by a well-manicured lawn.
Just before I ring the bell, the door opens and out steps a tall dark haired man almost bumping into me. He looks at me surprised.
"May I help you?" he asks.
"I am here to see Mrs. Gilbert," I explain.
He points me in the correct direction. I enter the house and follow the man's directions as I walk down the hallway. I find Mrs. Gilbert in her small office off the kitchen as she shuffles through papers. As I enter she smiles up at me.
She starts me working on paperwork that needs filled out. With that out of the way, Mrs. Gilbert shows me around explaining tasks I might be doing. We come to one door and she opens it to display what appeared to be Mr. Winner's study or office. There was a desk stacked with papers, a phone, a lamp and a picture frame. There are a couple chairs, and bookcases around the room.
"This is Master Quatre's office. I am the only one to clean it, and you will never touch this room.," she warns.
I nod my understanding and continue the tour. The last place she shows me is where I will be staying. It is very nice. As we enter, there is a furnished main room with a small kitchenette along one side.
"You are free to take all of your meals in the kitchen with us, but the kitchenette is provided for your own convenience," says Mrs. Gilbert.
The other room is a bedroom with a bathroom off of it. The entire set of rooms was bigger than the place I currently lived.
After getting me fitted for a uniform, Mrs. Gilbert gives me the pass I will need to get on and off the estate and the key to my room.
"You will start work on Monday, and you can start moving in any time," Mrs. Gilbert informs me. "If you need any help, we can provide that," she smiles. "Any questions?"
"I don't think so," I answer.
I have three days to pack thing up and get settled into my new place. I spend the first day packing things up and letting my landlord know I would not be renewing my lease for the next month. Even though I do not have much, it takes a large part of the afternoon to pack.
The second day I call Mrs. Gilbert to let her know I would be moving things in today. She insists on send someone over to help, so the knock on my door is not unexpected when it comes. I open the door to find the man who I ran into yesterday standing there.
"Hi," he says smiling. "I'm Enoch, and you must be Catherine."
The two of us load my belongings into the car. During our travels between the estate and my apartment, I learn Enoch is the resident mechanic/handyman and alternate chauffeur. He is very laid back and a bit of a tease and flirt. I can tell he is trying to make me feel welcome and put me at ease with his chatter. I have to admit that it is working.
Enoch stays to help me unpack some of my belongings before there is something he has to attend to. I thank him for his help.
"You will join us for dinner?" he asks insistently. "You will get to meet the others. We usually eat around six depending on the schedule."
He looks at me intently obviously not moving until he gets an answer.
"I'll be there," I smile up at him.
"Good," he happily says before leaving.
I shake my head at the good-natured man and turn to the task of unpacking. Several hours later I am finished with the task. I glance around the room seeing everything has found a place before I decide to call Trowa. I had not even told him I got a job yet. I call, but they are not home, so I leave a message.
"Trowa, it' me, Cathy. I finally found a job. It is nothing fancy. I am a maid for a Mr. Quatre R. Winner. He is head of the Winner Corporation. Anyway, it comes with a place to stay so I have a new number and it is…"
I rattle off the number before asking him to give me a call later and hang up with a sigh. Looking at the clock, I see it is almost six so I join the others for dinner in the kitchen. Enoch is the first to see me enter and starts enthusiastically introducing me to the others as he pulls a chair out for me.
"Everyone, this is Catherine," he says.
Those around the table murmur their greetings, and I nod to them in return.
"Mrs. Gilbert you already know," says Enoch. "Beside her is her husband George Gilbert, the chauffeur. Lee is the assistant cook," he says pointing to the short dishwater blond male in the apron, "and Al is the head cook. Boris and his wife Natalie take care of the grounds. And, Leah here will be your cohort in cleaning," he finished as he playfully patted her on the shoulder.
They all seem nice and give me pointers about various things like living here, or where the best places to shop are, or places I should visit. I help clean up, and before I leave Mrs. Gilbert pulls me aside.
"Are you getting settled and finding everything ok?" she asks.
"Yes," I reply.
"Good. I have a welcome present for you," she says as she hands me a box.
I open the box to find a decorative broach.
"I was given it when I first started working here, and feel you should have it. I hope you find as much joy here as I have."
"Who gave it to you?" I ask.
"Mrs. Winner. She said it would bring me luck."
"I can't take this," I protest.
"I want you to have it," she says as she closes my hand around the item. "I think Mrs. Winner would want you to have it as well."
"Thank you," I say before returning to my lonely room.
I open my small jewelry box to put the broach Mrs. Gilbert had given me way, when my eyes are pulled to the diamond ring nestled securely in the folds of felt in the box. Memories come flooding back to me as I gently pick it up and slip it on my finger. It still fits. I don't know why I am surprised that it does. Maybe because I don't feel like the same person. I am no longer the hopefully idealistic youth that had once donned this ring.
"Kevin…" slips from my lips as smoothly as the ring slips onto my finger.
I had been avoiding writing about him up until now. It still hurt to think about him, but maybe it was time to face that tragedy of my past as well.
I grab my paper and pen and start writing with the diamond ring on my finger sparkling in the light recalling its story to me. Kevin was Catherine's best friend's brother, and the three of them had been friends since she was ten. He would constantly pick on Catherine and Elan until they called for his parents or they joined forces to take him down. They had good times as kids as they played around the circus.
Over the past few years Catherine and Kevin's relationship started to change. It was nothing noticeable at first. Just a bit more teasing here, a bit more horsing around there. Now that Catherine was nearing sixteen and Kevin seventeen, they were beginning to admit and explore the reasons for the changes.
One afternoon, Catherine and Kevin were waiting for Elan to finish what she was doing and join them. They sat on a bail of straw watching the elephants move around their area.
"Do you ever think about leaving the circus?" Kevin asked her.
"No," Catherine answered. "This is all I know and the only family I have left," she explained. "Do you?"
"Sometimes," he admitted.
Catherine fidgeted a bit and stared down at her hands. She realized that she so did not want him to go. Her heart felt hollow at the idea.
"I would hate to see you go," Catherine murmured not looking at her long time friend.
"As long as there is something or someone to hold me here, I will stay," he countered.
Catherine looked up at him curiously and hopeful.
"Is there something to keep you here?" she asked.
His face moved closer to hers. Catherine sat there frozen, unsure what was happening. He moved his lips to hers and placed a soft kiss there before pulling away.
"You, if you'll have me," he said.
Catherine's eyes widened with surprise at his announcement. She knew her feelings for him for a while but believed he only saw their relationship through the eyes of friendship. Now, he offered her more.
"I'll have you," she replied.
Kevin moved in for another kiss and wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. Catherine allowed him to pull her closer and allowed herself to be carried away in her first real kiss. That is when Elan showed up. She had fun teasing them about it the rest of the day.
After that, they started officially dating each other. A year past and they started to talk marriage. They both had good jobs with the circus. In fact, they were partners in several acts. The newest one was a knife-throwing act. Catherine had been throwing knives at targets for the show since she was eleven. It was Kevin's idea to use himself as a target. Catherine opposed the idea at first, but he eventually talked her into it.
"You hardly ever miss," he pointed out.
"But, what if I do?" she countered. "I would die if I hurt you."
"You won't. I have faith in you," he said while wrapping an arm around her slender waist.
She looked up into his soft yellow-brown eyes and could not say no to him. She knew it would be a wonderful act if they could pull it off. So they started practicing on it. It took her a while to get use to having a live target. At first she aimed her projectiles over a foot from her boyfriend.
"Aim closer," he kept telling her.
Slowly she gathered her nerve to throw the knives closer and closer. There were a few kinks along the way, but nothing major. By the time they were ready to perform the act, Catherine had it down cold. She was landing the knives within inches of Kevin's body, and the act was a crowd pleasure.
After their act was such a success, Kevin brought up the subject of marriage once more. This time it was not a casual conversation like they had had in the past.
He pulled Catherine aside as she emerged from the costume tent. She willingly went along finding it no different from the hundred other times he had done this. She smiled up at him with all the love she felt for him shining in her eyes and dancing on her smile. He returned the look and gave her a quick kiss.
He held on to her hand tightly till they arrived at a somewhat secluded location.
"Cathy, will you marry me?" he asked as he presented her with a diamond ring.
Catherine's eyes widened to the shape of saucers at the sudden proposal.
"Yes," she said.
The excitement she felt fully displayed in the vocalization of the one little word.
"Yes," she repeated.
After a passionate kiss, Kevin slipped the ring on her finger.
"It is not much, only a diamond chip really, but one day I will get you one that matches your beauty," he promised.
"It's perfect," she reassured and placed a peck on his cheek.
Kevin scooped her up, swung her around and whooped his joy at her acceptance. She only giggled at his enthusiasm and enjoyed her ride. The next thing to do was to tell everyone, and before the day was out, the entire circus knew of the betrothal.
Kevin wanted to get married right away, but Catherine got him to wait at least two months so they could make some sort of plans. The time moved by swiftly till it was the weekend before the big day. That Sunday he ran into town to pick up a special gift for Catherine.
The manager came searching for Catherine. There was a haunting worried look in his eyes as she turned to face him after he called her name.
"Catherine, its Kevin…."
Right then and there, she knew something was wrong. She felt the pit of her stomach drop ten feet and her mouth went dry.
"What's happened?" she demanded fighting to keep the panic out of her voice.
"He was hit while he was crossing the street. A drunk didn't stop when he should have and plowed him over. They have him in the hospital now, but it does not look good."
Catherine was ready to bolt when the manager placed his hands on her shoulders.
"You should wait for his parents and sister," he insisted.
Once at the hospital she sprinted form the car to the main desk demanding to know where Kevin was. His family was not far behind. They were told he was still being stabilized and were escorted to a waiting room. Time ticked by slowly until a doctor came in to see them.
"He is not in good condition," she stated before explaining the damage he had suffered and chances of recovery.
"May we see him," sniffled his mother.
The doctor gave her permission, but warned that he was in a coma.
They each took their turn to visit the unconscious Kevin. He looked bad. His head was bandaged up, his face was swollen and turning blue and purple, and one arm and a leg were in a cast. The rest of him was covered with scrapes and lacerations.
Catherine would not leave his side. The family insisted that she came with them, but she refused. After they left, she laid her head on his shoulder and cried.
"Kevin, why? Why did this have to happen now?" she lamented. "We have been through so much more dangerous situations in our daily lives, and you get hit by a car. You have to pull through!" she demanded of him as tears rolled down her eyes. "We have plans, remember."
She sat there sobbing her grief and hoped the doctor was wrong and he would make it through with no brain damage.
The days slowly slipped by, and Catherine and the family held a vigil at the hospital waiting for him to wake up. Each day the chances got slimmer. Several times a nurse or doctor would hustle them out of the room because some monitor went off. The final time was on Wednesday. The group waited for the doctor to enter and tell them things were once again stable, but when the doctor entered the room he came with no such news.
"I'm sorry, your son is dead."
Immediately Kevin's mother started wailing and Elan to sniffling. Catherine stood there in shock. She had so believed that he would pull through, that they would live happily ever after, but that was not in the cards for her. First her family, her adopted father, and now her fiancé. Everyone she loved died. She felt it was her fault. Some how she had caused this terrible thing to happen, and she bolted from the room.
On the day that should have been the happiest of her adult life, it was the saddest. Instead of the dress of white she had picked out, she wore a dress of black. And, on the day she should have been getting married, they buried Kevin. I put down my pen and stair at the words before me.
"Kevin, I miss you," I whisper. "I have moved on, but no one has filled the void you left."
Tears gently stroll down my cheeks, and the feeling that I am destined to be alone fills me. The new environment and not having friends around is taking its toll on my mental wellbeing. I am sure given time, I will cultivate friendships in and around my new home, but that does not keep the pain of loneliness from stabbing my heart.
My phone rings. I wipe away the tears and pick up the phone. It is Trowa returning my call.
"Congratulation on your job," he says a slight smirk on his face.
I am so glad to see the face of a friend I let it pass without thought.
"So how is it going?"
"So far I have only moved in. I start working on Monday. The place is nice. My living quarters are bigger than the apartment I had been renting, and I have access to a training room and other facilities in the house and grounds as long as Mr. Winner does not need them."
"It sounds nice," Trowa says. "Have you meet Mr. Winner, yet?" he asks with an odd twinkle in his eye.
If I did not know better, I would think that Trowa was up to something.
"No, I have not. He is currently on earth for a peace meeting your wife is holding. Do you think they know each other?" I ask as the idea hits me.
"There is that possibility," he states. "She rubs elbows with people of all types."
I agree with his statement. Relena had friends among a wide variety of backgrounds. Anything from lowly circus performers to high ranking officials.
"Trowa, I'm home, and guess who I brought home with me," Relena happily calls from the background.
"Let me know when you meet him," Trowa says as Relena enters the room followed by a tall blond man.
Even though he had changed, I recognize him. He was the young boy that had come to the circus looking for Trowa those many years ago, the one who admitted to being the cause of Trowa's memory loss.
"Hello, Catherine," chirps Relena. "How's it going?"
"Well, I found a job and start on Monday," I repeat my earlier statement.
"Good luck," she offers.
"Thanks. It looks like you have company," I say glancing at the figure in the background. He seems to be intently watching the conversation, "so I will let you go to attend to him. Talk to you later."
After a round of farewells, we hang up.
Talking to Trowa, no matter how briefly has made me feel better. I am
so glad he came into my life. Now, that is something I can write about,
but not tonight I realize as I look over at the clock.