We are getting there, y'all. I promise. :) I hope to have two more chapter up by the end of this weekend.
Abbie was excited about spending another evening with Crane and enjoyed their last two nights together. She liked learning about him, liked teaching him, and liked his cheekiness. His sincerity and consideration were her favorite qualities in him. It also didn't hurt that he was handsome.
They didn't interact in the library, but they shared glances and bumped shoulders in aisles that didn't have any company. As they waited for the trolley, they made small talk.
Once in her neighborhood, Abbie hurried into her apartment. She wanted to grab some blankets and Romeo and Juliet. Pack it all in a basket with some dinner or whatever she could quickly put together. She was relieved when she didn't run into Jenny, who was probably walking every floor of the building selling desserts. Their kitchen had turned into a bakery, with cream cheese Danishes piled in the fridge, with chocolate cookies overflowing in their jar, and with Mama's cinnamon rolls under a cake dish.
They still hadn't really talked much. And if she saw Abbie carrying a picnic basket and leaving, she'd ask too many questions. Before she left, she swiped a couple of cinnamon rolls, two plates and forks, napkins, and filled two thermoses with warm milk. She also included a wrist watch to keep track of time.
In the schoolroom, she unfolded the blanket and splayed it across the floor. It would get a little dusty, but she didn't much care. She set their plates and forks out as neatly as she could. While she waited for Crane, she made herself comfortable and skimmed the book. When he finally arrived, he said, "Oh. What have we here, Miss Mills?"
He took off his coat, hung it on a chair, and joined her on the floor.
"A picnic." She removed the plastic container with the rolls and the thermoses. "It's not much, I know."
"It's perfect." He kissed her hand. "Thank you, Miss Mills."
"Jenny had these extras, so I thought I'd steal a few."
They broke bread together.
"These are amazing."
"One of Mama's recipes. Corbin sells these, too."
"How is Mr. Corbin's shop coming along?" He poured milk in his little thermos cup.
"Last I heard, repairments weren't quite finished. He's been selling from his cart in the park. Jenny bakes, and Eric stops by for pickup. Joe helps sell, too. They've got a routine going."
"I hope his shop will be back to its pervious state. It is dreadful and terrifying that such a thing would occur. The audacity."
"There's been worse."
Churches, houses, schools, and shops have been destroyed by harsh licks of fire in black neighborhoods in the North and the South. These fires marked ash and burn scars in the brown skin of her neighbors and friends. It smeared them with death.
He squeezed her hand. "Yes, there has been worse. It is unfortunate. I am relieved that you and your sister, among Mr. Corbin and those associated with him remained unharmed."
"Me, too." She didn't want to talk about oppression, not here. "How was your day?"
"It was quite well. I've been looking forward to our meeting since I awoke this morning. Did you enjoy your day, Miss Mills?"
"I did. It was much like yours. I was excited for later, too. And you bumped my shoulder on purpose. Were you flirting with me, Mr. Crane?"
"Perhaps I was, Miss Mills." He kissed her palm. His beard made her prickly. His fingers skimmed the inside of her wrist. "Perhaps I was."
Her breath kept still; her eyes considered the blanket's corner. "You are something else, Ichabod Crane."
"Are you blushing?"
She took her hand away, held his eye. "Mills women do not blush."
That was Mama's excuse each time dad watched her smile at the floor and cover her cheek with her hand. He had such a silver tongue. Mama never admitted he got the better of her. Like mother, like daughter.
He smirked. "Your pride is showing."
"Your milk is getting cold." She put her plate and fork in the basket.
"It is, is it?"
"Yes. Finish up."
She wouldn't admit it. His ego was already big enough as it is.
He swallowed the rest of his drink and placed his own dishes inside the basket. Then he closed it.
"I see you brought my book."
"Thought maybe we could talk about it. I still hadn't finished it."
He picked it up. "Perhaps I shall read aloud?"
"I can read for myself, Crane."
"I have no doubt about it. When I heard stories read aloud, it relaxed me and put me to sleep even. I thought maybe it would relax you. You deserve to unwind."
She wouldn't mind listening to his voice. "Sure. I left off on Act 2, Scene 2."
"Ah. The balcony scene is one of my favorite moments."
He opened to that section, lowered his eyebrows. "I don't recall a balloon in here, Miss Mills. I take it you've been analyzing."
"Just a little. Mama wrote in her books. This is one of her favorite scenes."
Abbie told him about her mom's interpretation of Romeo and Juliet's relationship, about the balloon that symbolizes love, about the string her Mama told her to hold onto.
"Your mother is a bright woman, much like her daughter. I couldn't agree more. Their love proved mighty. Love gazes beyond another's dissimilarities and faults. It is constant and steadying."
"I'd say so. Shall we read?"
"We shall."
They scooted against the wall. As Crane read, Abbie rested her head against his shoulder. His voice was quieten, like rain blotching the windows and the rooftops. She let herself fall down in it.
"Miss Mills?"
She opened her eyes, found herself on Crane's chest rather than his shoulder. He had his arm wrapped around her. He closed the book and sat it in his lap.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep."
"Do not apologize. You deserve rest."
She touched his cheek in thanks before reaching into the basket for the wrist watch. It said Cinderella's curfew. Abbie hopped up. "Shit."
"Is there something the matter?"
"I was supposed to have been home already. Jenny's probably losing her goddamned mind. She doesn't know I've been here to see you."
He stood up. "Well, in that case, let's get you home."
They quickly packed what was left.
"Thank you for tonight, Crane." She kissed his cheek.
"It is I who should thank you, Miss Mills." He bowed for her again.
"You are too much." She smiled. "If I hadn't dozed off, we would have had another lesson."
"It is quite alright. I feel as though my body could use a rest period."
"I hardly put you to work yesterday."
"Hardly? That's quite an understatement, don't you think?"
"I call that day one."
"I can only imagine what day two will bring."
"Keep up the sass and you'll be doing twice the exercise."
"Oh, goody."
"You have no idea, Crane."
"Is that so?" He intruded her personal space.
She wasn't backing down. "Yes."
He touched her cheek. There was that look again, the one that said the world wouldn't beat them only if they relied on each other for strength.
"Crane."
She wanted to savor the grains of cinnamon on his tongue. They'd probably be sweeter there than on the roll itself. She wanted his beard to scrape the side of her neck. She wanted his fingers to knot with hers. She wanted his lips to make her skin hum. She wanted to make him hum.
He nuzzled her nose. "Yes, Miss Mills?"
She inhaled his sweet breath and the silky letters that dripped from his lips, letting his essence crawl into her.
Her lips deftly swept across his. It was the smallest sip of him she'd allow herself. "I have to get home."
He dropped his hand, distanced himself. Her breath returned to her. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel it in her spine and shoulder blades, but they couldn't go there. Not even in an abandoned schoolroom. She hasn't even known him long, and here she was: falling and falling. There were consequences. May was proof. But then there were the brave hearts of Eric and Sarah. And maybe, maybe, they could have what they desired if they fought hard enough.
"Let's get you home then." He gently took the basket from her, extended his arm.
She took it, and they sprinted out the schoolroom and across the street.
Jenny nearly knocked Abbie down when she ran into her with a hug.
"Where the fuck have you been? Are you fucking crazy?"
She knew her sister was crying, so she wrapped her arms around her tight.
"I'm so sorry, Jenny. I lost track of time. I was in the schoolroom."
"Doing fucking what?"
Abbie didn't want to lie, especially in the state Jenny was in. She's been in her position, knew what it was like to worry and wait. It was the worst feeling thinking her sister wouldn't return that night. If Abbie mentioned she really was entertaining Crane's company, there's no telling how Jenny would respond. They were already divided because of him.
She walked into the living room, sat the basket down. "I waited for a lady there. She wanted to learn self-defense, so we had a class. I packed us something to eat for afterwards. We started talking once we finished her lesson. Before we knew it, it was really late. I know I don't normally teach on weekdays, but she stopped me in the hall on my way to work this morning. She really didn't want to wait until Saturday. I should have left a note or something, but I was in a rush once I got back home. I'm really sorry, Jenny."
And she was. She never wanted Jenny to worry about her, to put her in such a shape. In all honesty, she didn't even think Jenny would care if she was gone for so long. They hadn't spoken in weeks. It was good to finally talk to her.
Jenny wiped her face. "Never do that to me again. You fucking hear me?"
"I do. I promise to leave a note next time." She hugged her and kissed her forehead.
"Are you meeting her again tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Same time. And probably the day after."
She sighed. "Alright then. Be careful."
"Always."
After they said goodnight and Abbie showered, she sat in bed, tracing her lips, nose, and palm. She wanted his lips. His tongue. His baritone words and his kindness slipping in her collar bones. The stony guilt came the same time her gentle desire did. Both of them battled. She didn't know which one to listen to, but as she went to sleep again, she knew which one stood.