Chapter 12 – A Busy Day

A/N – Hello, all! Mucho thanks to those who have keep up with the story, since I have been procrastinating BIG TIME. Well, we are definitely on the last leg of Olivier's Story now (cue big cheer from the author) so I hope you will continue to read! Oh, and by the by, two boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (And throw in a couple Cockroach Clusters) to anyone who can place the origin of the last two sentences in this chapter. Hint: Somewhere in this story.

Disclaimer: Everything but Satine, Christian and Olivier belong to me.

Olivier woke up to a tangle of legs and sheets and the sun was streaming in through the window. He put a protective arm around Rebecca and pulled her closer to him as she slept. She made a little sound and Olivier saw her eyes blink open. There was something so magically perfect about that moment and Olivier knew he would never forget it. Rebecca shifted a little in the sheets and rested her head on Olivier's chest. He felt a little tingle of excitement at her touch and he reached out to stroke her hair.

"Good morning, darling," Rebecca murmured sleepily.

"'Morning," he bent his head and kissed her forehead.

Rebecca stretched her arms and legs and made to get out of bed. "If I don't get up now, I'll never get out of bed."

"Nothing's wrong with that. "Olivier grabbed her by the hand, pulled her towards him and kissed her on the neck. "You don't have to work... I'm free too. We could just stay here all day and –"

"No, Olivier!" Rebecca laughed. "I also have to go to a protest with Susan." She wriggled free from his arms and walked over to her chest of drawers. There was a pile of posters on top of her desk.

"Where?"

"A children's hospital about eight blocks from here," she said, slipping a simple dress over her head.

"Oh. Then I'll make breakfast!" He stepped out of bed and began to pull on his clothes that seemed to have made their way to a pile on the floor sometime during the night. "I'll make eggs, or an omelet. How about –"

"I'm sorry," Rebecca said. "All I have is oatmeal."

"Oatmeal it is, then!" he said energetically. He walked over to the stove and pulled a box off the shelf. "Hmm... I wonder how you make oatmeal."

So, they made oatmeal together, which resulted in her posters lying on the desk once again forgotten, his clothes back in their pile on the floor and both Olivier and Rebecca covered in oatmeal.

"I never knew making oatmeal was that exhausting," Olivier remarked with a smirk on his face.

Rebecca turned on her stomach and rested her arms on his chest. "It isn't, dear, you just made it exhausting."

"You're blaming all that on me?" Olivier tried to sound indignant. "You were on the one who flicked the oatmeal out of the spoon and –"

Rebecca kissed Olivier. "I love you."

Olivier's eyes softened. "I love you, too." He paused. "I want to stay here all day and all night with you, right here. You're just too beautiful to keep out of my sight."

"Ah, darling, we have to face the world sometime," Rebecca said.

"But why? It would be so easy to get away from it all."

"Olivier, I believe you live in a world of your own. I wish I could go there. Everything seems so simple there." Rebecca smiled.

"That place is with you," Olivier said. "You're what makes my life so worth living." He kissed her own the nose very lightly and Rebecca brushed a piece of oatmeal off his forehead. How it got there, Rebecca didn't want to imagine.

Suddenly, Rebecca jumped out of bed and began running around the room, crying, "I'm late! I'm late!"

They both left ten minutes later; Rebecca to the children's hospital, Olivier to his house.

~

Rebecca rushed to the front of S. J. Whittaker's Children's Hospital, with her arms full of posters.

"There you are, Rebecca!" her best friend, Susan Child, called. She rushed over to Rebecca and relieved her of her load. "My, you look awfully happy about something. What's going on?"

Rebecca flushed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Oh, it's nothing, Susan."

Susan raised one dark eyebrow. "I don't believe you. Is it him?"

Rebecca didn't reply. She just gave Susan a small smile.

"Aha!" Susan cried. "I knew it! Goodness, took you two long enough!"

"Susan!" Rebecca flushed crimson and swatted at her arm. "Come on, we just set up our booth." She walked over to the entrance of the door to the hospital and set some of her things on the table that was waiting there.

"So..." Susan said with a smile. "When do I meet him?"

Rebecca laughed and began rearranging things on the table. "You sound like a mother!"

"You're my best friend!" Susan said. "I need to keep up with your life! Obviously, Olivier James is a big attraction to yours."

"Hmm, I believe we were going to go out for lunch today..." Rebecca considered. "After this, we could meet up with him then."

"Ooh, that's a great idea," Susan said. She waved a poster in the air as someone walked past. "Save the children! Don't close S.J. Whittaker's Children's Hospital!" She turned back to Rebecca. "I'm very excited to meet him. What does he look like?"

"Well, he has short brown hair, and soft brown eyes. A smile that makes you turn to goo..."

"Ah, I like him already," Susan said with a grin.

~

"Olivier, this is my best friend, Susan Child," Rebecca said, holding his arm. "Susan, this is Olivier James."

"How do you do?" Susan said. A wicked smile was on her face as she studied Olivier. She kept stealing glances with Rebecca. "I've heard quite a lot of good things about you, Olivier."

Olivier turned a little pink. "Why, thank you. How did the protest go?"

"Oh, it was amazing!" Rebecca replied. "I really think we go to some people! And then –" Rebecca shivered with excitement. "-S.J. Whittaker's widow came by and took a whole stack of fliers to hand out around the area!"

Olivier grinned. "That's great, darling." He kissed Rebecca on the side of her head.

"Well," Susan said. "I think I better be going... You two have fun."

Rebecca laughed. "Good-bye, Susan."

Susan gave her a wink and turned to leave. Rebecca and Olivier started down the other end of the road.

"Look, Rebecca," Olivier pointed at the menu of the little restaurant at which they were dining. "You can order haggis here. Your favorite!"

"Mmm," Rebecca said. "I sure feel like some animal entrails this lovely afternoon!"

"I knew you would be," Olivier said as the waitress came to get their order.

"How is your father?" Rebecca asked a few moments later.

"Very well," Olivier said. "He's been on his typewriter the whole time. Don't know what the devil he's writing about. He won't tell me a thing..." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't suppose you have anything to do with this, Rebecca, my sweet?"

Rebecca gave a small smile. "Don't suppose I do..."

Olivier took Rebecca's hand and kissed her palm, sending a shiver of excitement through her. "Rebecca you have done him a world of good. I don't think I can ever thank you enough."

"You don't need to, darling," Rebecca said. "Not one bit."

Their food came and they quietly began to eat. People bustled by as they finished their food, talking loudly and obnoxiously to each other. Olivier and Rebecca enjoyed listening to the chaotic nature of the world. They felt fortunate that their lives did not consist of cruel gossip about the baker's mistress or the horrid history of Flora from Flora's Antique Shop.

"Here," Rebecca said, holding up a spoonful of her lunch. "Taste this custard; it's very good."

He took a bite and was about the swallow when – "Oh, look, Mr. Greene! That young couple is feeding each other! How dear..."

"Yes, Mrs. Greene," her husband said dully.

"Oh, but Mr. Greene!" Mrs. Greene said in a stage whisper. "'Tis a shame really... you know, and I'm sure you do as you are quite sharp with such things, that this little fling of theirs will never last."

Rebecca's jaw dropped open. She clamped her hand over her mouth and giggled.

"That's nice, Mrs. Greene," Mr. Greene said into his soup.

"Ah, but they look so dear."

Rebecca grinned wickedly and leaned across the table. She pulled Olivier by the collar and kissed him passionately and fiercely. Olivier made a small noise of surprise at the back of his throat, but quickly caught on. He held Rebecca's face in his hands and his glass of milk fell into her custard. He caught a glimpse of Mrs. Greene out of the corner of his eye. She held her hand to her heart and her mouth hung wide open. "Oh, my," she gasped.

Mr. Greene could be heard snickering into his soup.

~

"Oh, I've had a lovely day today, Olivier," Rebecca exclaimed as they walked down the street after eating. "I need to something for you now."

"Well," Olivier said with a low voice in her ear. "I could propose we go back to your room and –"

"Olivier!" Rebecca gasped. "Goodness, is that all what men think of? Besides, I'm already exhausted from our ... oatmeal making."

Olivier snickered and put his arm around her waist. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to meet my father's family."

Rebecca faltered in her walking but continued. "Meet your family?"

"Yes," he said. There's Aunt Sam; she's very athletic and has too much energy for her own good. And Aunt Victoria, she's a nurse, who has come to visit for a few months and then Grandmama who is a very pleasant old lady who complains about how old she is constantly. I don't know what Christian has told you about Grandfather, but he died ten years ago. He... wasn't pleasant."

"Yes," Rebecca said thoughtfully. "I remember him mentioning that. I'm just worried that..."

"What is it?" Olivier asked.

"What if they don't like me?!" Rebecca exclaimed, almost sounding panicked.

"Darling, don't worry about that!" Olivier laughed. "They'll love you. I do and that's all they need to know." He felt the muscles in Rebecca's back relax a little.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Olivier reassured her. Olivier pointed up the street. "They live two blocks up that street. On Snob Hill."

Rebecca gasped as they walked past the tall bushes at the corner and saw the house up on the hill. The acres of rolling lawn reminded him of coming here for the first time, sitting on his father's shoulders and his mother walking next to them, shaking like a leaf from nerves. He noticed Rebecca doing the same. He took her hand and led her to the front door

Olivier knocked loudly on the door. One more reassuring squeeze of the hand and then the door opened.

"Hello, Mr. James!" The housekeeper said pleasantly.

"Hello, Mrs. Willows," Olivier greeted her. "And it's Olivier." He linked his arm with Rebecca's. "Mrs. Willows, this is Rebecca Steward. Rebecca, Mrs. Willows, my grandmother's housekeeper."

"How do you do?" Rebecca said nervously.

"How do you do, Miss Stewart," Mrs. Willows smiled warmly. "Please come in."

They walked in and Mrs. Willows led them into a hallway with a long flight of stairs. "Your grandmother, Mr. James, is upstairs in the drawing room."

When they entered the drawing room, Rebecca, at first glance, did not see Mrs. James. The luxurious furniture and tapestries and portraits filling the room overwhelmed her. Mrs. James was in a large chair by the window, folded in a thick blanket. She look as if the slight breeze through the open window would blow her away, if not for the thick blanket holding her down. Her old, wrinkled face lit up with the sight of her grandson entering the room.

"Ah, it's Olivier!" she said, holding out her hand. "How nice of you to come visit your old, old, grandmother."

Olivier kissed her cheek and softly grasped her frail hand. "You look absolutely wonderful, Grandmama. How are you feeling?"

"Ah, stiff as usual." She gave a quick glance at Rebecca and back to Olivier.

"Grandmama," Olivier said, taking Rebecca by the hand. "I'd like you to meet Rebecca Stewart."

"How do you do, Mrs. James," Rebecca said politely. "You have a very lovely home."

"Thank you, Miss Stewart," Mrs. James replied. "But I'm afraid it has not had the attention it deserves since Mr. James died. My old bones just can't keep up with everything."

"Beautiful, nonetheless," Rebecca smiled.

The door to the drawing room burst open and a young woman (she looked around the age of twenty) with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes hurried in. "Olivier! It has been ages!"

Another woman followed her in; she looked to be in her thirties and had long, brown hair that was piled on the top of her head. Eyes, shockingly similar to Christian's, hid behind glasses. The necessary introductions were made and Rebecca learned that the younger woman was Samantha James and the older, Victoria Bates (married to Dr. Bates of Glasgow). Samantha had Christian's smile and Victoria had his eyes, but it was still hard to comprehend the concept that they are siblings. She thought she remembered Christian mentioning an older brother, but he said he was similar to his father. He lives in India, working in trade.

After a few moments of conversation, Victoria offered to go fetch tea. "Olivier, I think I'll need help. Will you come?" He agreed and gave Rebecca a warm smile before leaving.

Victoria was silent as they waited in the kitchen for the maid to get the tea. "I believe you have something to tell me, Aunt Victoria," Olivier remarked.

"Now, why would you think that?" Victoria inquired.

"You would have sent for the maid with the tea any other day."

Victoria smiled and was silent for a few more moments later, before, "You love her very much, don't you?"

Olivier nodded. "Yes, I do."

"She's a very pleasant girl. A little quiet, but I suspect that's nerves."

Olivier smiled. "She organizes and attends several protests. Rebecca is not normally quiet at all."

"Do you plan to marry her?" Victoria asked him.

Olivier blinked, a little stumped by the question. He had not expected to hear that from Aunt Victoria, although, he couldn't deny that the thought ever crossed his mind. "Yes, I suppose so... Yes. Yes, of course.

"You are a good person, Olivier," Victoria smiled. "I think she will have you."

"I hope so."

Victoria paused, then frowned.

"What is it?" Olivier asked.

"How is Christian?"

"Very well, actually," Olivier said. "Rebecca has become friends with him and he's started writing again. He has been sober for a good while now."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear it!" Victoria exclaimed. Right then, the maid came over and said the tea was ready.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the drawing room, Rebecca had taken a seat next to Mrs. James at the window and Sam sat at a loveseat reading.

"Where did you first meet Olivier, Miss Stewart?" Mrs. James asked. "Was it at school?"

"Actually, Mrs. James," Rebecca started. "And I'm a little ashamed to say so, but I am unable to afford tuition to school. I left school one year ago. I work at my guardian, Jonathan Myers', book store."

"You said, your guardian?"

"Yes, ma'am," Rebecca replied. "My parents died when I was younger."

"I'm sorry to hear that, my child." She then inquired about Christian and his health so Rebecca explained how he has been doing very well. She also explained the time she spent with Christian and how she felt it had made an impact on his health.

"I couldn't be more pleased, my dear," Mrs. James said. "That's a wonderful accomplishment."

At that moment, Olivier and Victoria entered with the tea. Rebecca silently began to sip her tea and she could finally fell her nerves settle. She thought Mrs. James was a lovely, pleasant old woman and she felt at home here with Olivier's family.

"Rebecca, would you like to look around the house?" Olivier proposed.

Rebecca said yes, and they left the drawing room and went down the hallway.

"What do you think?" he asked softly.

"I think your family is very lovely," Rebecca answered.

"I'm glad," Olivier held her arm. "I'm very glad."

He then went on to show her the many rooms of the house. Rebecca couldn't think of a time where she had been in a house of this size. Olivier looked so at home here in this large house, it was s shame to think he had to share a room with his father.

"Here was Christian's roo,." Olivier said, opening the door to a room at the end of the hall. "This is where I slept when we visited here with Mother. Mother fell ill and Christian spent most of his time with her. That was only the second day I knew Christian..."

Rebecca looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Olivier bit his lip. "Christian never told you?"

She frowned and shook her head.

"Oh dear..." Olivier wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. "Well, to begin, my mother and father met in Paris. I don't know why or any of the details, but he left Paris, not knowing Mother was pregnant with me. Mother left for London to raise me, not knowing Christian is living there as well.

"Then, six years later, Christian appears at our door. On my sixth birthday, actually. The next day, we visit his family here. Mother falls ill and we eventually go to Bournemoth while she recuperates. I got closer to Christian those few weeks there than I ever have and ever will." He paused.

Rebecca rested her head on his shoulder. "Is that where your mother died?"

Olivier nodded. "We moved back to London... and well, you can imagine Christian fell apart."

"Olivier," Rebecca said tearfully. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Olivier lifted Rebecca's head off his shoulder and kissed her. "I apologize for never telling you. I guess I just assumed Christian told you."

Rebecca wrapped her arms tighter around Olivier and began to cry softly into his shoulder. He rocked her gently, from side to side, in a way he could remember from his mother.

Moments passed and Olivier asked, "Are you read to go back?"

Rebecca quickly wiped her eyes and nodded. "Yes, let's go."

~

Rebecca and Olivier walked into his house later that evening to check on Christian. A candle lay barely alive on the table. The typewriter still had paper in it and a large stack of paper with the ink still shining on the top was on the chest of drawers. The bedroom door stood open and Olivier saw Christian fast asleep in bed. There were no bottles on the floor near the bed and when Rebecca looked through the cupboards, they were void of bottles as well.

Olivier grabbed a bag and threw a change of clothes into it. He left with Rebecca and locked the door behind him.

The minute they entered Rebecca's room, she collapsed onto the bed and groaned, "Today has been exhausting!"

Olivier threw his bag onto a chair. Armand meowed loudly from his spot in the corner of the room and Olivier leaned down to scratch him on the head. He yawned and took his jacket off.

"Come sleep, darling," Rebecca said sleepily. She pulled the blanket back and rolled over to face Olivier. "This bed is cold."

Olivier pulled off his shoes and crawled into bed with Rebecca. She wrapped the thick blankets around them and kissed Olivier deeply. And as they lay there, their hearts beating as one, they fell into a long awaited, deep sleep.