Rosalind
This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole
ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a
court of law.
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! From this point, things kind of get away from Rosalind because John pursues Grace. If the child's not mentioned in a chapter or two.well. Enjoy!
"Uh.. hey, this John Clark"
"Hey! Oh, what's wrong? Do you need something?" Grace asked immediately, though John was glad to realize her initial reaction had been a happy one.
"Well, we got the guy" John said, "I...uh...actually, have another problem"
"Oh" Grace sounded surprised.
"Yeah..it's, uh." Geeze, he was going to sound cheesy beyond belief, "It's Ros. She really does have a mac and cheese problem, I thought maybe, if you came over for dinner, you might be able to cure her of that" He closed his eyes and hoped he hadn't sounded to desperate. Rosalind had been living with him, what, six months? Had he forgotten how to speak to women in that short amount of time? Possible, he admitted to himself. Fathers were often rusty.
"Hmm...well I don't usually do field work" Grace was saying, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. Oh thank God!
"But, I think Ros might need a little extra attention. So, what time do you usually have dinner?" John glanced at his watch. Could he have dinner ready in half an hour? Why had he decided to make chicken alfredo tonight?
"Oh, about 7:30" he answered.
"I could be there in half an hour" Grace said, "If you don't mind what I wear"
"I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could wear that you'd look bad in" John replied, "I'll see you in half an hour then?"
"Sure" Grace answered and he heard the phone click. It was true, John didn't think that particular woman would look bad in anything. Not even a sack cloth bag! She'd been wearing black pin striped pants and a lavender top that had cut down just far enough to let the imagination work earlier today. He knew from their other couple of encounters she looked great in a t-shirt and jeans too though. John shook himself before he could start wondering what she would look like without those clothes on. Six months was a long time, he suddenly decided.
"Daddy! What's this word?" John had been slightly surprised when Rosalind's very surprised first grade teacher told him that she could read on about a third grader's level. Her mother must've taught her. When her aunt, Lieutenant Rodriguez's sister Maria, had found out, she'd started taking the girl (as well as her own children) to the library every other day to get books. John was glad she did because he certainly didn't have time to do it. Sometimes he felt like he barely had time to talk to Rosalind!
"Sound it out" he ordered her. She was sitting on the couch with a rather large book propped up in her hands.
"Ra.ra.mon." She drug each syllable out. John furrowed his brow and left his chicken to simmer. He crossed the room to his daughter and she held the book up to him.
"Ramona. It's a name, Ros" he told her. He handed it back to her and suddenly stopped. Something had struck him. He was looking down at her small face, with her huge brown eyes and silky brown hair that tangled in seconds, and she was looking up at him with a little smile curling her little lips and he saw it. There was a look of complete and utter trust in her eyes. Trust in him. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he almost staggered under the enormity of the realization. No one had ever put their life in his hands, trusted him to make sure they ate, and dressed and learned and slept and loved and cried and made it in the world. He felt flushed with a great responsibility, a staggering one in fact and he worried, again, about how he would do. And then, too, with that responsibility, came a great feeling of privilege. He was a father. He would have the joys (and pains too, he knew) of watching a human life grow and form and he would have a hand in what it became. He had the opportunity to make the world a better place.
All of this hit him in just a few seconds and he couldn't consciously comprehend it all, or take it all in, but he knew something in him, again, had changed, and this time for the better. He smiled down at Ros and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she lowered her eyes back to her book. He took a deep breath and went on with life.
Grace was right on time, not surprising him in the least. He'd re- combed Rosalind's hair back into a pony tail and had the table set already when he opened the door. Grace's hair lay wild down her back and she wore a fifties style black dress, cut low in the front with a fat black ribbon right under her bosom, the skirt flaring out to her knees, and a little pair of strappy black heels. John felt like a fish, his mouth working but no sound coming out. A light speckling of freckles covered her pale shoulders, and he wondered what they would taste like......
"Uh, hi" he said, and moved back so she could come in. She looked like a shining debutante millionaire heiress in his shabby little apartment. And he felt like a grungy nerf-herder in his worn jeans and plain gray t-shirt.
"Sorry" she smiled apologetically, "I have this thing with a couple of my brothers"
"Oh" John said, disappointment filling his chest, "Oh, that's okay"
"I can only stay till about 9, or I'll be late" she added.
"Oh" John replied, much more happily this time, "That's cool. Dinner's ready now, if you want to eat"
"That sounds good" she rubbed her stomach. John clenched his teeth.
"Hi" Rosalind distracted him, thankfully, and he could draw breath again.
"Hello, Rosalind" Grace crouched down, giving John a lovely view of the cavity between her breasts, "What're you reading?"
"Ramona" the little girl answered, showing their guest the cover of the book.
"You can read this by yourself?" Grace asked. Rosalind nodded.
"Wow, that's pretty cool" Grace sounded appropriately impressed. She had a great effect on Rosalind, who usually hid behind John whenever other people were around. It was probably all of that smiling she did. John didn't imagine he smiled often enough.
"C'mon, before the food gets cold" he said and pulled a chair out for Grace. She had to smooth her skirt out before sitting and John had to roll his eyes at himself.
"These aren't orange noodles" Rosalind immediately noted when John spooned the already cut alfredo onto her plate.
"You know" Grace said as if she were hardly paying attention at all, "I've heard that people who eat too much orange noodles turn orange" John knew he couldn't laugh so he tried desperately to keep a straight face as Rosalind's eyes enlarged, believing every word of the fib.
"What about red noodles?" she asked. John took a seat and gave Grace a sheepish look.
"We eat a lot of pasta" he admitted. Grace laughed. Angels sang.
"My family eats a lot of potatoes" she told him, with a roll of her eyes and a shrug, "We're Irish"
"What about red noodles?" Rosalind demanded again.
"No, I think it's only orange noodles" the doctor answered with a sly smile. What was going on here? What kind of feelings were these? They weren't the kind John was used to having with women. The rushes of lust, yeah, those were normal. But, then, why the urgent need to keep them away from her? He wanted her, yes, but at the same time felt he was no where near the kind of man that should lay a single finger on her pristine person. Maybe it was because she wasn't like the other women he'd dated. She was somehow more..pure. Or, maybe it was innocent? Maybe just good. Either way, she wasn't the kind of woman you dated for a couple weeks then got into bed with. He had a feeling she was one of the "wait until your married" types. In other words, not his type. At least, not until now. Had Rosalind changed all that? Good Lord, was he domesticating?! Who was this really all about; him, Grace, or Rosalind? John felt himself getting very confused and decided to abandon that line of thought.
But the whole night went like that. After dinner, Rosalind had abandoned the table to continue reading her book so Grace had offered to help with the dishes. He'd first felt obliged to lend her a shirt to put over her dress so it wouldn't get ruined,(and he liked the sight of her in his shirt) and then he'd been forced to stand next to her, elbows and hips bumping in the tiny kitchen, her skirts brushing his calves, and her scent nearly choking him with every breath, though he continued to take the deepest breaths he could get. He was getting warm and he couldn't decide if it was hot in the apartment or if it was just him. But Grace's skin was glistening with the faint shimmer of a thin layer of sweat too. Funny how sweat could make a woman shimmer and look more like a goddess instead of making her look dirty or grimy.
John smiled at her. She was talking but he had no idea what she was saying.
"Oh, shoot!" she suddenly cried, a look of alarm on her face.
"What?" John asked, afraid she'd gotten dirty dish water all over herself. But she was dry and unbuttoning the shirt he'd lent her. He suddenly found himself anticipating that last button, and mentally slapped himself for being disappointed when it only revealed the black dress again.
"I'm going to be late!" she replied. John glanced at the clock. 8:59.
"Geeze, I didn't realize it had gotten so late" he said. It felt like she'd only been there a few minutes. Hardly long enough. He walked her to the door.
"Ros, Grace is leaving" Rosalind was asleep on the couch, her book fallen to the floor.
"Oops" he said and Grace laughed a little.
"Don't worry" she said with one of those smiles, "It doesn't make you a bad father" She kind of stood there in the hall, looking at him and he kind of stood there, in his doorway looking at her.
"Well, uh, maybe we could go out sometime, maybe, just you and me next time?" he finally choked out. She nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds good" she said, but she didn't move. She was getting closer though, and John noticed her eyes were fluttering. He didn't realize what he was doing until his tasted her lips beneath his. It was just a little kiss, but it sent bolts of lightning through his lips, down through his chest and arms and legs and zipping around in his head. She pulled away and gave him a little smile, a new one, shy and a little guilty, but secretly enthralled.
"Call me" she said and he watched her skirts swish as she walked away.
AN: May I prevail upon your thoughts? Do you think we should a) end this particular "book" here, and write a new one which is the courtship of John and Grace, or should we just finish the story as is, making "Rosalind" a bit longer? Let me know, and then I'll post more chapters, or, a new story!
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no money, no sue, please? AN: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! From this point, things kind of get away from Rosalind because John pursues Grace. If the child's not mentioned in a chapter or two.well. Enjoy!
"Uh.. hey, this John Clark"
"Hey! Oh, what's wrong? Do you need something?" Grace asked immediately, though John was glad to realize her initial reaction had been a happy one.
"Well, we got the guy" John said, "I...uh...actually, have another problem"
"Oh" Grace sounded surprised.
"Yeah..it's, uh." Geeze, he was going to sound cheesy beyond belief, "It's Ros. She really does have a mac and cheese problem, I thought maybe, if you came over for dinner, you might be able to cure her of that" He closed his eyes and hoped he hadn't sounded to desperate. Rosalind had been living with him, what, six months? Had he forgotten how to speak to women in that short amount of time? Possible, he admitted to himself. Fathers were often rusty.
"Hmm...well I don't usually do field work" Grace was saying, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. Oh thank God!
"But, I think Ros might need a little extra attention. So, what time do you usually have dinner?" John glanced at his watch. Could he have dinner ready in half an hour? Why had he decided to make chicken alfredo tonight?
"Oh, about 7:30" he answered.
"I could be there in half an hour" Grace said, "If you don't mind what I wear"
"I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could wear that you'd look bad in" John replied, "I'll see you in half an hour then?"
"Sure" Grace answered and he heard the phone click. It was true, John didn't think that particular woman would look bad in anything. Not even a sack cloth bag! She'd been wearing black pin striped pants and a lavender top that had cut down just far enough to let the imagination work earlier today. He knew from their other couple of encounters she looked great in a t-shirt and jeans too though. John shook himself before he could start wondering what she would look like without those clothes on. Six months was a long time, he suddenly decided.
"Daddy! What's this word?" John had been slightly surprised when Rosalind's very surprised first grade teacher told him that she could read on about a third grader's level. Her mother must've taught her. When her aunt, Lieutenant Rodriguez's sister Maria, had found out, she'd started taking the girl (as well as her own children) to the library every other day to get books. John was glad she did because he certainly didn't have time to do it. Sometimes he felt like he barely had time to talk to Rosalind!
"Sound it out" he ordered her. She was sitting on the couch with a rather large book propped up in her hands.
"Ra.ra.mon." She drug each syllable out. John furrowed his brow and left his chicken to simmer. He crossed the room to his daughter and she held the book up to him.
"Ramona. It's a name, Ros" he told her. He handed it back to her and suddenly stopped. Something had struck him. He was looking down at her small face, with her huge brown eyes and silky brown hair that tangled in seconds, and she was looking up at him with a little smile curling her little lips and he saw it. There was a look of complete and utter trust in her eyes. Trust in him. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he almost staggered under the enormity of the realization. No one had ever put their life in his hands, trusted him to make sure they ate, and dressed and learned and slept and loved and cried and made it in the world. He felt flushed with a great responsibility, a staggering one in fact and he worried, again, about how he would do. And then, too, with that responsibility, came a great feeling of privilege. He was a father. He would have the joys (and pains too, he knew) of watching a human life grow and form and he would have a hand in what it became. He had the opportunity to make the world a better place.
All of this hit him in just a few seconds and he couldn't consciously comprehend it all, or take it all in, but he knew something in him, again, had changed, and this time for the better. He smiled down at Ros and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she lowered her eyes back to her book. He took a deep breath and went on with life.
Grace was right on time, not surprising him in the least. He'd re- combed Rosalind's hair back into a pony tail and had the table set already when he opened the door. Grace's hair lay wild down her back and she wore a fifties style black dress, cut low in the front with a fat black ribbon right under her bosom, the skirt flaring out to her knees, and a little pair of strappy black heels. John felt like a fish, his mouth working but no sound coming out. A light speckling of freckles covered her pale shoulders, and he wondered what they would taste like......
"Uh, hi" he said, and moved back so she could come in. She looked like a shining debutante millionaire heiress in his shabby little apartment. And he felt like a grungy nerf-herder in his worn jeans and plain gray t-shirt.
"Sorry" she smiled apologetically, "I have this thing with a couple of my brothers"
"Oh" John said, disappointment filling his chest, "Oh, that's okay"
"I can only stay till about 9, or I'll be late" she added.
"Oh" John replied, much more happily this time, "That's cool. Dinner's ready now, if you want to eat"
"That sounds good" she rubbed her stomach. John clenched his teeth.
"Hi" Rosalind distracted him, thankfully, and he could draw breath again.
"Hello, Rosalind" Grace crouched down, giving John a lovely view of the cavity between her breasts, "What're you reading?"
"Ramona" the little girl answered, showing their guest the cover of the book.
"You can read this by yourself?" Grace asked. Rosalind nodded.
"Wow, that's pretty cool" Grace sounded appropriately impressed. She had a great effect on Rosalind, who usually hid behind John whenever other people were around. It was probably all of that smiling she did. John didn't imagine he smiled often enough.
"C'mon, before the food gets cold" he said and pulled a chair out for Grace. She had to smooth her skirt out before sitting and John had to roll his eyes at himself.
"These aren't orange noodles" Rosalind immediately noted when John spooned the already cut alfredo onto her plate.
"You know" Grace said as if she were hardly paying attention at all, "I've heard that people who eat too much orange noodles turn orange" John knew he couldn't laugh so he tried desperately to keep a straight face as Rosalind's eyes enlarged, believing every word of the fib.
"What about red noodles?" she asked. John took a seat and gave Grace a sheepish look.
"We eat a lot of pasta" he admitted. Grace laughed. Angels sang.
"My family eats a lot of potatoes" she told him, with a roll of her eyes and a shrug, "We're Irish"
"What about red noodles?" Rosalind demanded again.
"No, I think it's only orange noodles" the doctor answered with a sly smile. What was going on here? What kind of feelings were these? They weren't the kind John was used to having with women. The rushes of lust, yeah, those were normal. But, then, why the urgent need to keep them away from her? He wanted her, yes, but at the same time felt he was no where near the kind of man that should lay a single finger on her pristine person. Maybe it was because she wasn't like the other women he'd dated. She was somehow more..pure. Or, maybe it was innocent? Maybe just good. Either way, she wasn't the kind of woman you dated for a couple weeks then got into bed with. He had a feeling she was one of the "wait until your married" types. In other words, not his type. At least, not until now. Had Rosalind changed all that? Good Lord, was he domesticating?! Who was this really all about; him, Grace, or Rosalind? John felt himself getting very confused and decided to abandon that line of thought.
But the whole night went like that. After dinner, Rosalind had abandoned the table to continue reading her book so Grace had offered to help with the dishes. He'd first felt obliged to lend her a shirt to put over her dress so it wouldn't get ruined,(and he liked the sight of her in his shirt) and then he'd been forced to stand next to her, elbows and hips bumping in the tiny kitchen, her skirts brushing his calves, and her scent nearly choking him with every breath, though he continued to take the deepest breaths he could get. He was getting warm and he couldn't decide if it was hot in the apartment or if it was just him. But Grace's skin was glistening with the faint shimmer of a thin layer of sweat too. Funny how sweat could make a woman shimmer and look more like a goddess instead of making her look dirty or grimy.
John smiled at her. She was talking but he had no idea what she was saying.
"Oh, shoot!" she suddenly cried, a look of alarm on her face.
"What?" John asked, afraid she'd gotten dirty dish water all over herself. But she was dry and unbuttoning the shirt he'd lent her. He suddenly found himself anticipating that last button, and mentally slapped himself for being disappointed when it only revealed the black dress again.
"I'm going to be late!" she replied. John glanced at the clock. 8:59.
"Geeze, I didn't realize it had gotten so late" he said. It felt like she'd only been there a few minutes. Hardly long enough. He walked her to the door.
"Ros, Grace is leaving" Rosalind was asleep on the couch, her book fallen to the floor.
"Oops" he said and Grace laughed a little.
"Don't worry" she said with one of those smiles, "It doesn't make you a bad father" She kind of stood there in the hall, looking at him and he kind of stood there, in his doorway looking at her.
"Well, uh, maybe we could go out sometime, maybe, just you and me next time?" he finally choked out. She nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds good" she said, but she didn't move. She was getting closer though, and John noticed her eyes were fluttering. He didn't realize what he was doing until his tasted her lips beneath his. It was just a little kiss, but it sent bolts of lightning through his lips, down through his chest and arms and legs and zipping around in his head. She pulled away and gave him a little smile, a new one, shy and a little guilty, but secretly enthralled.
"Call me" she said and he watched her skirts swish as she walked away.
AN: May I prevail upon your thoughts? Do you think we should a) end this particular "book" here, and write a new one which is the courtship of John and Grace, or should we just finish the story as is, making "Rosalind" a bit longer? Let me know, and then I'll post more chapters, or, a new story!