Chapter 12 Home Preparations

Weekly dates out and about had been replaced with twice weekly sessions at the Pink Victorian house (Salmon he would correct Belle with a smirk-when Jeff had come over out of curiosity and had laughed at the house he wasn't corrected with a smirk, but rather with a glare from him and an arm crossing from Belle, assuring him that the house was indeed, Salmon). Slowly but surely, the place was becoming increasingly livable, both on the inside and the out. Belle had requested to tackle the outdoors, in addition to her library, and Robby smiled at the possessive pronouns she used to describe the place.

And tackle the outdoors she did. She insisted that she enjoyed the sweat-inducing work of mowing, hedge trimming, and planting, and the general getting her hands dirty, sort of work. On this particular day he had driven up to the place on a Saturday after work to find her clad in dirt stained overalls, her hair piled up on her head (it seemed this was Belle's go-to working look), curls sticking out everywhere from the humidity. She had one long dirt smear on her cheek and she looked exhausted. Robby, knowing her now routine of outdoor work on Saturday afternoons, pulled out the lemonade that he, himself had ordered (and it was from her favorite place, thus a place he had slowly but surely gotten the nerve to be able to order) and handed it to the sweat soaked yet still truly gorgeous Belle.

'You know, I am not the most able person but I could help you in any way you need. You look so tired, sweetheart.' Robby worried.

Her body was tired, he could tell, but her eyes were awake and dancing.

'I like doing it!' She did her slightly high pitched excited squeal that she sometimes did, much to her embarrassment and his enjoyment.

She took his arm and pulled him around, not too quickly, he always noted-she never wanted to make him uncomfortable or see him in pain- to the different areas of the lawn where the fruits of her labor were displayed. The once overgrown beds were blooming to life. Her knowledge and experience with working with plants could be plainly seen in every corner. He loved that when he drove up to the house, whether it was after work to steal a moment or two, or with him meeting her there, he was surrounded by her. Everything she touched came to life and spoke warm happy thoughts. The house no longer looked lonely and forgotten-it looked loved. He wouldn't think too much over the similarities in his own life, since he probably thought about it every other minute of every day.

The inside had begun to reflect Belle as well. During the days that their schedules did not allow them to meet together, Belle had begun sending him 'inspirational boards' that she created to see what he thought. Somehow she had figured out how to create a balance between her love of light and bright colors and fun patterns with his love of keeping things where they reflected the original time period of the house.

I found this light floral wallpaper that I think would contrast nicely with the dark wood walls and trim, yet have that Victorian look without all the clashing. ;) What do you think?

He always thought her ideas were spectacular, so much so that she would sometimes give him a sideways smirk when she saw him and remind him that he had a say in the plans as well, didn't he know? He shrugged, loving every bit of Belle that was added to the house, since it made him that much surer that she indeed wanted to stay and to make it her home when it was all over. She wouldn't have bought that lamp with her own money if she was planning to leave me, would she? Robby's own voice reflected these hopeful words in his mind. Malcolm's voice wanted to tell him that she helped him hang wallpaper, and polish cabinets and trim until they could reflect a person's face because she was generally such a nice and beautiful person-and a pathetic creature like himself needed all the help he could get, but Robby's voice had hope with each piece she added to their home, and each time she seemed as invested in the house as he.

Indeed, she did contribute much during the summer, not just in terms of elbow grease (which she did in great quantities as well), but with her own paycheck she would put aside the extra money she was getting now, and put it towards something they needed for the house: curtains ('you need light, gauzy curtains, Robby, not these big heavy things' she had said, pulling at the ratty, velvety green monstrosities that were there from the previous owner and had seen better days about a century earlier.), rugs ('I just couldn't pass up this rug-it spoke to me and told me it would go so well with the wallpaper'), and lamps-the tiny woman had a thing for lamps ('I just think this room needs more light, don't you?'). Robby wasn't going to complain, Belle did have wonderful taste, after all, though perhaps preferring lighter colors than he. And with each purchase she made she tied herself to the house a little more and was showing that it was her space as well as his.

Robby's contributions had the tendency to be well made furniture he found at sales and he would bring it to the study that he had turned into a little workshop and put in the hours to restore the piece to its former beauty. He always took pictures and showed them to Belle before he bought it, just like she showed him her cart. It felt like the house was their project that way and there was no 'his' and 'hers', but them together as a team, making something beautiful. Belle always approved, insisting that his taste was always spot on.

A dining room table was procured this way, as well as a headboard, and some end tables. Much of the other furniture he already had in his cramped apartment, which was slowly becoming bare. By this day, the day that Belle pulled him around showing him summer's bounty, they were a month away from his lease being up and the move walked in, Belle's gloved hands being now full of flowers that she had cut just moments earlier, so she could fill her 'adorable' vase, as well as another one that she had found that was now stationed in the middle of the solid oak table in the dining room. Robby announced,

'I got the water turned on today.'

'Oh good, I can finally take a shower here!' It had been in the plans and once she arranged the flowers the way she liked, and smiled and sighed over how nicely the library was coming along, she went out to her car to retrieve her overnight bag she had brought for the occasion. He was almost sorry to see her trade overalls for one of her summer dresses she was prone to wear. For some reason, seeing her in less than her work best and working on something that was theirs was so utterly domestic in the nicest form.

After dinner, it was his turn to be less than pristine. He went to the converted study, now workroom and began working on the coffee table he and Belle had found at an auction. If they did go out for dates these days, it seemed some sort of sale or auction, flea market, or other type of sale was where they ended up. Though he often found, and continued to work on restoring things to sell, it seemed that he and Belle ate, slept, worked and dreamed of the new house. He had never dreamed with someone else before, and having Belle not only along for the ride, but an equal part of the journey was a new and pleasant sensation.

The coffee table only needed one last coat of sealer before it could cure and be ready to be placed in what would be their living room. He had dispensed with his suit jacket and blue plaid tie that he had worn that day. He rolled his sleeves up and put his work apron over his clothes-Jeff would laugh at him in a bright red apron, tied over his dress pants and button down shirt. Not that cared that much-it was hard to worry about what the boy Jeff thought, when he could glance up from his work and see Belle sitting sideways in the chair they had brought in, just for her to sit in just that way, because she told him she liked to be close to him and watch him work. Sitting sideways caused her legs to drape over the other side and dangle, looking even tinier than usual and the old wingback seemed to overpower her stature, yet she seemed completely comfortable in it. She would sit and watch him, or, as in this case, sit with a book in hand.

She must have been truly exhausted, for after triumphantly finishing, and staggering up to balance himself after being one place for so long, he looked over, thinking she must be engrossed, for he hadn't had one question about what he was doing in a good fifteen minutes or so. Instead of being engrossed, she had fallen asleep, her drying curls hanging over the chair and the book threatening to fall and break the peaceful slumber she was engaged in. He limped over, balancing himself on his little work table, as he had neither brace nor cane nearby to aid him, and silently retrieved the book.

He took the opportunity to take stock of the person that he had come to love with all his heart. There was not a thing that he wouldn't do for the tiny beauty in front of him. She had brought light into the ocean of darkness that had been his life before he got to know her. Even the most contented moments in his little shop where he had gained independence from his father, it was never what could be described as happiness. There were too many thoughts that invaded while he paused, during the night, or any moment he wasn't in the midst of trying to figure out what was wrong with one thing, or the best materials to use with another. Even choosing materials caused his father's voice to scold him for choosing quality over quantity, or reminded him of how weak he was, even mentally that he couldn't help but choose based on a moral and ethical decision, instead of monetary. He could argue with his subconscious that he was thinking in terms of the bottom line, and returning customers, and the fact that he had no desire to continue the legacy that his father had set before him.

Now he hardly thought of his father at all, and he didn't fix, restore, and make things beautiful just to have moments where he could forget. Now he worked and remembered. Remembered every smile, every joyful look she gave him, every conversation where she made him feel like he was a person, a person worth being with, worth loving.

A soft snore alerted him to the fact that he was staring, and he was about to walk away when her eyes fluttered open sleepily. He was worried that she wouldn't appreciate the fact that love him though she assured him she did, that he had been staring at her. Instead, she smiled immediately.

'Hey' He immediately smiled back.

'Hey'

'Guess I was more tired than I thought. Next time I won't bring Tolkien with me. I love his stories, but his long description can put a girl to sleep, sometimes.' She chuckled as she stretched and allowed him to help her stiff limbs out of the chair. She never allowed him to take much of her weight, though, always worried about his leg-about his comfort. She was always a kind soul. As soon as she rose she went to where she knew his cane was and retrieved it, somehow knowing that after the work he put in on the table that he would be hurting. She also worked at closing the windows around the room that had been airing the place to keep them from breathing in too many sealant fumes.

'Not much longer now, sweetheart.' He mused as they got into the car.

'It's amazing how much we've gotten done in so little time. It looks less like an empty museum and more like a home.

Home

Robby was looking forward to getting to see what that word actually meant. With Belle just simply being in his life, he was starting to find out.

Author's Note:Sorry the chapter was both shorter and mostly fluff, but I had this scene in my mind for them, and decided to make it a whole chapter. I think I have about 2 chapters left of this? It's Christmas break here, and I am hoping that I have a bit more time to do some quicker updates.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I always appreciate your comments!