I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Yerg! I hate colds – fluids leaking from nostrils, gunk coughed up and losing one's voice all stink. One lighter note: I've got people calling my office convinced that the demon Pazzuzzu works there (not too far off really…) – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 37
Christmas dinner with the Buckets reminded Veronica of happier times with her own family. The warm light from the fire, the soft music on in the background and time spent with people who honestly loved one another made for happy memories.
They had sat close all evening, relishing the casual contact and little looks that made them grin until Grandpa George finally rolled his eyes and huffed, "Will you two knock it off already? I'm already borderline diabetic thanks to living in a sweet factory, but you two carrying on is making me sick!"
"Dad. Stop it!" Mr. Bucket admonished, shooting them an apologetic glance.
Veronica blushed and excused herself to use the restroom, weaving through tight quarters to get to the microscopic water closet to throw some cold water on her flaming cheeks. When she came out, she saw Charlie slipping outside. Curious, she looked out the window to see him take a seat under the tall peppermint tree next to the chocolate river. The cheerful mask has slipped away from his face and he looked a bit lost.
Veronica was opening the door to slip out herself when Mrs. Bucket asked, "Where are you going dear?"
Hastily thinking, she replied, "I got a bit of a calf cramp – I'm going to walk it off for a moment." She saw Willy starting to rise and open his mouth when she minutely shook her head at him. "I'll be back in a few minutes, try to save a slice of mincemeat pie for me?"
She left the house and in the dim light that was a good simulation of moonlight, she followed Charlie's steps to the tree. He must have heard her coming up, as he turned to face her, the sad expression she'd seen from the kitchen once again concealed behind a façade.
Veronica said nothing and took a seat on the swudge by the dark haired teenager. She put her back to the tree and closed her eyes, confident that he would talk when he was ready. Charlie smiled and turned back to his contemplation of the thick swirls of chocolate along the riverbank.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yep. Just wanted a quiet moment," she replied.
From beneath lowered eyelashes, she could see his mask slip once again. Charlie looked profoundly confused and unhappy. She watched as he tore up a handful of the candy grass only to play with a few of the sprouts before sighing heavily and dropping them again.
Veronica counted three repetitions of this little play before his hesitant voice asked," So….you and Willy?"
Veronica carefully hid her expression, just saying in a neutral voice, "Yup. I don't think it's that big a surprise to you though."
"It's not…not really…" Charlie said, throwing more strands of swudge into the flow of chocolate. "I guess it was a bit of a shock that he'd actually go through with something like this. After all those years by himself…"
Feeling a little disjointed in taking Sherman's role in this conversation, Veronica found herself asking, "What shocks you about it?"
"I think it's because I got too used to the factory being the center of his little universe," Charlie admitted, finally facing her. "For the three years since we've moved in here, Willy's been my mentor, my friend, and something like a big brother. I guess I never really thought of him as a grown-up with…" he blushed, "you know….urges and stuff."
"And you're not sure how you're supposed to act about it?" She shrewdly guessed. "Let me tell you a little story about my own brother Reggie."
"I knew Reggie was gay for years before he finally came out and admitted it. It was just a part of who he is. For many years he was alone, working as a professional dancer on the stage, eventually working up to being a lead choreographer on the West End. It was just a couple of years ago that I noticed Spencer's name being brought into conversations more and more," Veronica smiled wryly.
"Then I actually met Spencer – and hated his guts!"
She smiled at the expression on Charlie's face, "I thought he was obnoxious, cavalier and wasn't taking Reggie's affections seriously. I was afraid he was going to break Reggie's heart. When they would show affection toward each other – it took a long time for me to get used to the idea,"
"It was only after Reggie got really sick and was in the hospital for pneumonia the winter before last where I realized that Spencer really did love Reggie. I think I felt the same way you do now – slightly squiked, nervous, and I will admit it…jealous."
Charlie blushed and looked at his feet, "I'm not really jealous…just worried."
"That I'll leave Willy a broken man? Or that I'll replace you in some way?" Veronica snorted indelicately, "No worries there – I have no interest in mass candy production – I am an artist first. As for leaving Willy a broken man..."
She reached out to stroke the soft hair that fell into Charlie's eyes, "I'm not going to lie to you, things may not work out between us, but I love him with all my heart. If we broke up, chances are I'll be the broken one."
Charlie nodded slowly, "I see that…but what about what happens if you two get married and have kids? Where is room for me in all that? Willy will have an heir of his own blood and I'm afraid…"
She was alarmed to see a few tears leak from the teenager's eyes. He brushed them away angrily, "Bugger…"
Veronica didn't want to see Charlie conflicted like this – he was such a sweet kid without the attitude or cynicism so predominant in teenage boys. Her heart ached for him.
"Charlie, may I tell you a secret?" she whispered, sinking her head to rest on her hands on her knees.
"Sure."
Veronica steeled herself – for Charlie's sake to put him at ease it was necessary to tell him.
"You don't have to worry about me ever having kids. When I was in college, I was attacked. Long story short I was hurt too badly and the damage to my uterus was too much – I had to have a hysterectomy or die."
"So, I chose life."
She heard Charlie's intake of breath but didn't look up.
"Willy may decide one day that he does want a child of his own, but I can never be the mother."
Charlie started at her. She was curled up with arms wrapped around her legs, staring blankly at her feet. He could hear the fear and regret in her voice as she told him and it made him ashamed of himself for feeling the way he did.
Veronica looked up at him, sharing a sad smile, "See? That's one worry down. As for Willy leaving you behind – he'd never do that. He loves you too."
Charlie braved leaning back and extending his arms to give her a hug. With slight hesitation, she did.
"Thank you. I do feel better now."
"Anytime Kiddo. You'd probably get back inside before they start looking for you," Veronica mentioned.
He climbed to his feet with the easy athleticism of youth and trotted down the path. She took a moment to dust the seat of her pants off and stared over the river. The thick smell of chocolate wrapped itself around her and she could feel the moist heat rising against her face.
How could a man who produced such miracles ever fall in love with her? He had created his own world, from the living breathing plants that filled this room with their delightful smells and taste, to the rich rainforest housing his workers. She wasn't even going to mention the rooms she had seen only in passing – the huge mountain of fudge that turned time and space on its head as it loomed like Everest in a room with no walls; the strange effects his candy that pushed aside the impossible and reached right through to the other side of impossible; and last but not least his creation – Wonkavite.
She'd thought him mad at first, holding onto such a precious creation for his personal use – the ability to push back time and aging…to live forever…and the millions of people who could make good use of this magic. Then she'd quickly realized why it had remained a secret – it was too precious. Who was to decide who would get it and who wouldn't? Wars and conflict would break out as soon as world hit the street that mortality was at an end. Ultimately, she had decided that it was not up to her to make such decisions and that Willy had done the right thing by keeping its existence a secret or risk the fall of civilization.
This was the power of Willy Wonka.
She was just a woman attempting to make it from one day to the next – never having the chance to look beyond her own myopic experiences. Veronica found herself suddenly thrust onto a much larger stage and here she was suffering stage fright.
Willy deserved someone who was capable of dreaming and succeeding on the same scale he was, not a nobody who up until he came along was incapable of fending for herself.
"That was kindly done," said a voice from behind her.
She gasped and whirled to see Willy stepping out of the shadows from a small embankment not too far from the peppermint tree where she and Charlie rested.
"You were eavesdropping," she said severely, turning to face the river again, crossing her arms in irritation.
He might have the abilities of a god, but he had the sensibilities of a 12-year-old.
"My factory, my right," Willy agreed coming to embrace her from behind. The tip of the cane dug into her ribs as he sank his head onto the curve of her neck where it joined her shoulder.
"I didn't think how Charlie would take all these changes," he admitted, his hair tickling her ear. "I didn't think about it and I should have."
"It's not something you can predict – between politics, long-term weather and the stock market – Teenagers are the most unpredictable source out there," Veronica said softly.
He sighed and hugged her closer – eyes scrunched close and a slightly pained expression on his face. "You didn't have to tell him you weren't able to have children. I know that's a painful topic."
Willy felt her tense, even as her voice had a forced edge of nonchalance to it, "Seemed like the best way to nip the issue in the bud."
He could feel her unspoken concern that he would still cast her aside for this flaw.
"Have I ever told you about my father?" He asked conversationally.
She shook her head and without releasing her, he sank to sit cross-legged on the ground, causing some awkward maneuvering and a few giggles on her behalf. Finally she was seated in his lap, looking up at his face.
"For most of my life, I was unable to even say the word 'father' without some bad flashbacks," he felt her tense in his arms, a worried expression on her face. "Oh no! Nothing like that – you see, he's a dentist."
She snickered, "Oh dear sweet irony."
He gave her a half-grin, "From such strange seeds, strange fruit grows. Anyway, as a dentist, let's just say I was subject to some of his dental experiments with braces. I went through school looking like I had a birdcage strapped to my skull."
"He was also fanatical that I never eat candy of any sort. My first forbidden taste was a piece of chocolate that escaped the fire grate the morning after Halloween when I was eight years old."
He found himself looking down into her deep emerald eyes in the dim light, the color almost eaten up by the dark pupil.
"One thing led to another, and I, in all of my pre-pubescent glory made an ultimatum, I was running away from home to learn to make chocolate from the finest confectioners in the world. He said, "If you walk out that door, I won't be here when you get back." Then I left."
Willy's face was blank, the violet eyes distant and sad, "I went around the block to the hall of flags and spent about fifteen minutes striding up and down the hall trying to figure out where I want to go first. Then I came to my senses and started for home."
"Willy – that sounds like something that most kids go through. It's part of growing up," Veronica protested.
"That might be – but the old man actually did it."
She was confused, "What do you mean? He wouldn't let you back in the house? What about the police?"
"Not only didn't he let me in the house, when I came up our street, our house – in the middle of the row - was just gone. There was an empty lot where it used to be."
Veronica gapped at him, "But that's…"
"…impossible?" Willy snorted with a bemused expression on his face, "Seems like I come into that ability quite honestly."
"What about your mother? Surely she had something to say about this beastly behavior of your father's?"
"I never met my mother. He would never talk about her - I don't know if she's alive or dead." Willy said.
They sat in silence for a moment before he continued his tale.
"In either case, thanks to Charlie making me face my fears, I was able to confront my father just a few years ago. He was so much smaller than I remembered…" he whispered. "So old and frail. I realized that the monster in the closet was just an old sweater throwing some funky shadows."
"Thanks to Sherman, I was able to finally forgive him and move on with my life. We were able to have some sort of relationship as a father and son before he passed away earlier this year."
She snuggled deeper, trying to offer what comfort she was capable of to ease the pain apparent in Willy's voice. "I'm sorry about your father."
"I didn't tell you this to get your sympathy," Willy said, taking her chin and gazing sternly into her eyes. "I told you this so you understand that when I find something as rare and precious as love – I've had to learn the hard way never to walk away or take it for granted. Some things are far too special to be left behind." He kissed her gently then, just a light caress of the lips but it felt like a lightning bolt to her.
"As for legacies? We sit in mine. I've already decided to pass my beloved factory to Charlie when he determines the time is right. Children were something I never considered and never wanted. If we wish to change our minds down the line, so be it. But for right now, all I want is you."
Veronica felt the tears well in her eyes and start to slip down her cheeks at his reassuring worlds. With a small cry, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. His love for her was palatable, and she returned it whole heartedly.
Willy nearly fell backward as she started kissing him wildly, "Whoa!"
She broke away with a laugh, "Sorry – nearly got carried away there."
"I'm not complaining. In fact, would you like to continue this upstairs?"
"What about the Buckets?" she asked, climbing off his lap to stand, admiring him in the soft light.
"I hope you don't thing me too presumptuous, but I already made our excuses for the night," Willy said, waggling his eyebrows brazenly. "I won't repeat Grandpa George's comments."
"You do presume too much, sir!" she teased, "What else do you presume upon?"
"I presume to take you upstairs, strip you naked and take time exploring every inch of your luscious body before making you scream with pleasure," he growled, pulling her close to plant a perfunctory kiss on her waiting lips.
"I guess that's alright then – as long as I get to do that thing…you know the one that turned your legs to jelly this morning and caused the rather spectacular bruise on your back when you hit the soap dish?" Veronica said cheekily, leading him by the hand back to the entrance of the Chocolate room.
A grin with a slight shudder was Willy's only response.
--
They spent the next few hours wrapped in each other's arms, gently exploring…touching…tasting. They discovered numerous little places on the other that made them convulse or aroused with a simple touch or humid breath.
Veronica climbed the peak of arousal several times, noting the childlike curiosity and joy in Willy's expression as he did something that made her moan or gasp. She was able to see the blissful expression on his face as she worshipped him with her body – relishing in the sensory banquet.
It was one final time, with slow smooth movements - unhurried and rolling in like the tide - that they were able to find that peak together, staring into the other's eyes as they moaned and gasped feeling their bodies join together and for a moment their souls touched. Willy felt like he was flying, burning into the heart of a star, his body locked and unbreathing at the intensity of their orgasm. He could feel her clenched around him, their bodies' slick with sweat as they thrashed.
It was with the greatest reluctance that they came back into their individual selves.
"Oh dear God." She breathed, throwing one arm over her perspiration dotted brow.
Voiceless, he had to agree. His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest and his legs still felt numb with an exquisite sensitivity in other areas that had gotten a good workout.
"Are you sure you want to move out and leave all this behind?" Willy asked weakly, sitting up to grab a glass of water by his bedside and taking a long gulp.
"As of this moment? No. I need to be able to move my legs first. Tomorrow? Maybe looking online at some potential properties. I figure we could go up to the roof and see what is close by – then figure out what's available out of there." She said, forcing herself to sit up and swing her legs out of the huge bed to head toward the bathroom.
"Actually, I might have a solution to that," he called out, falling back into the bed.
The toilet flushed and he heard the sink run for a moment before shutting off. Veronica returned holding a damp towel out to him to clean himself up with. He did so gratefully, the sticky sensation making his skin crawl.
"I own several of the key properties next to the factory. We could take a look at those first. I have one in particular you might be interested in. It's got a nice bank of windows that overlook the dome in the Chocolate Room."
Veronica crawled back into bed to nestle up with him, resting her hand on his chest. "I don't want to take any more charity from you Willy. You've done more than enough for me."
"If it makes you feel better, I'd charge you and arm and a leg for rent?" He offered.
"I might be willing to accept that," she said, kissing him lightly before returning to her original position. "It the landlord a real bear? With all sorts of unreasonable demands?"
"Oh, he's the worst. He has a strict policy of behavior and won't tolerate shenanigans – very unreasonable."
"What about overnight guest?" she teased, drawing small circles on his stomach making the muscles dance and play.
"Won't tolerate them," Willy said, grabbing her hand to make her stop.
"Guess we shan't tell him then, huh?"
"Indeed."