A/N: Now, I'm too proud to beg for reviews …oh, who I am kidding? I'm kneeling on Mrs. Foster's fainting couch asking for some feedback, here! Seriously, I'd love to hear from you: do you love the tone or hate it, should I have stopped at the first chapter or not, etc.? Comments make my day. Sorry for the time gap; this chapter took longer to simmer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tuck Everlasting or any of the characters, lines of dialogue, images, objects, etc. that you recognize from it (including the sir name, "Jackson"). I own only the plot and the characters you do not recognize
"Want to spend forever with me, Winnie?"
It was nearly sundown before Winnie had peace again. After the guests had left, she made an excuse to her mother (who hadn't failed to notice, and comment on, the ink stain on her sleeve) and slipped away for some solitude. Now, she pushed herself away from the window and returned to the desk and her open book. The memories were still crowding in on her. In fact, they had been intruding on golden moments all afternoon. Charles had brought her a newly opened rose from the garden when her mother wasn't looking, and she'd almost been robbed of the enjoyment of it by the sudden memory of a long-discarded kiss. After that, she'd gone so quiet that Charles had kept asking after her condition. An hour later, she'd told him she loved him -so abruptly that she made him miss his shot (not that he had minded much).
With a fresh lamp lit, Winnie stared down at the page, letting the phantoms roll over in her mind.
"This kind does not come out except with pen and paper," she muttered ironically. Holding the pen almost threateningly, as if promising her specters that she would best them, Winnie took a deep breath and began with the first one she could find.
June 15th, 19—
'Want to spend forever with me, Winnie?' The offer had returned to her out of nowhere, brining on its heels opportunities and choices that she had chosen to let fade years ago. It had taken time, but Winnie remembered now. She remembered dark, flashing eyes and a courage beyond her imagination…and someone who had offered her a world much larger and wider than her own. For the first time in a hundred years, what was left of fifteen-year-old Winnie Foster inside of her began to remember Jesse Tuck.
I danced for a few moments, and then the tapping stopped. Seconds later I was being spun, smoothly and a little recklessly, enclosed in a strong grip. When my feet left the ground, I was strangely unalarmed; in fact, I leaned into him and spun faster. Suddenly, cool wind on a warm face and bare arms felt very real. For just a minute, something in her spirit was fed and warmed by the memory of delicious freedom. She took another breath, and savored a feeling that she hoped never to lose again. Slowly, she remembered the heart of a fifteen-year-old girl, and the choices it makes…
Did I love Jesse Tuck? Yes, of course; but with a child's love, with a hart that had been locked up for too long, and was experiencing much of life for the first time. Jesse was a breath of new air. He was a whisper to my soul, something to remind me that there was more to hope for than the safe and structured world I had been given. How could I avoid loving him? To me, he was freedom and lifeBut, of course, he was none of those things; no mere human could be. The years had taught her that. He was the image of it for me; reflected it like clear water mirrors back white-gold sunlight. I will admit, he did this well-but no more. He woke me up so that I would not miss it when real life, and real love, came to me.
"I thank you for that, Jesse," Winnie mused almost absent-mindedly to the empty room. She shook her head briefly and moved on.
Now, really, do I love Charles Jackson? Yes, I believe I do. He has been the best friend I have ever had. But of course, I know that I cannot just let go of Jesse Tuck. Something has to be done for him. Suddenly a little tired, Winnie stopped and leaned her wrist on the page…and in a moment, she knew what that, 'something,' was.