Author's Note:
I am so sorry about the lateness of ths chapter. And, just in advance, sorry if the next chapter is late too. I have school, so that (unfortunately) has to come first. Anyway, enjoy. If you want something really special, when you see the line "he abruptly turned his head back then..."if you have Enrique Iglesias's "Hero" on hand, play it. I was listening to it when I wrote that scene and it fits so well. -EJM
Chapter Three: The Notebook
Tessa had been in her room for hours - or at least, it felt like it - having fallen back asleep right after the fight. But it was now six, and Virgil finally had an excuse to get her up - even if it was just that she needed to eat breakfast.
He walked down the hall, reflecting on his decision not to tell her that she'd been having night terrors. He supposed he'd been wrong to hold it in, but at the time he didn't want her to be anymore worrisome than she already was. He knocked softly on her door. "Tess?" he whispered. He heard her stir, and knocked again. "Tessa," he called a little louder, "it's six. You might want to get up before John eats all the pancakes."
There was a noise, suggesting she'd hurriedly gotten out of bed. He smiled to himself, knowing that she couldn't resist pancakes - the very reason he'd asked Kyrano to cook them. The door opened to reveal her in a housecoat (she hated to be seen in only her pyjamas, even if it was only Virgil), as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail. He grinned at her and said good morning, to which she responded with: "Don't think this means I've forgiven you."
He sighed inwardly. "I can still try, right?"
She shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy."
Virgil allowed her to walk right past him. He kept a metre or so away from her as they walked down the hall. The living room was deserted, but he could hear a few voices in the kitchen. He recognized Onaha and Kyrano, as well as his two other brothers. And where Scott went, Lana was sure to follow, so it came as no shock to him to find his sister-in-law sipping coffee in the corner.
He pulled out a chair for his fiancée, so she sat in the chair next to it, giving him a cold look in doing so. He watched as she silently took a plate and placed some pancakes on it. Virgil turned around as Onaha handed him two cups of coffee. He placed one in front of his seat, and the other next to Tessa's plate. She thanked him in a flat, uncaring tone.
John laughed, "Geez, Virg, what'd you do?"
Virgil shot an annoyed look at Scott. "Somebody let the night terrors thing slip before I got the chance, and now my fiancée will barely speak to me."
Scott shrugged. "Hey, if you couldn't find a decent time over the course of two weeks to tell her, then that's your problem."
Tessa looked up at John. "I suppose you know all about my horrible nightmares too, then?" she asked.
John smiled. "Actually, all I know is that you scream without reason in the middle of the night. Is there anything more to it?"
Tessa turned to look at Virgil, who had a vacant expression on his face as he cut up his pancakes. "At least you had the decency to keep your mouth shut about that." Before he could respond, though, she'd turned back to her breakfast.
-
Ten o'clock struck on the wooden grandfather clock by the front entrance. John had not seen Tessa for hours, but presumed that she was hiding in her bedroom. He made his way from the living room to hers. The sound of country music lightly danced in the air behind the door as he knocked.
"Who is it?" she asked, as though he'd disturbed her. The music abruptly stopped.
"The 'other'," he laughed.
"Oh. Come in, then." He opened the door to find her closing a notebook, and setting it aside. She motioned for him to sit on the bed next to her. "What's up?"
He shrugged. "I'm just worried about you."
Tess raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
He shrugged, allowing his eyes to wander around the room. "Well, considering you're not speaking to your fiancé, and you will be leaving with me and Tin-tin in two days . . ."
Her head shot up in the direction of the calendar hanging on her wall. Her eyes widened. "Crap! That's not this week, is it!"
He nodded, looking at her again. "Afraid so. And it's not like you can put someone like the seamstress off again."
She stood abruptly, knocking the notebook, that had been perched precariously on the edge of her bed, tumbling to the floor. "I know, I know . . . but this is just great!" She turned, looking directly at him as he stood up, "I don't want to be in a fight with Virgil when I leave! I need to be in a good mood for a three-day-shopping-spree!"
He smiled. "So go forgive him."
She pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips. "Fine for you, Mr. Know-It-All."
He smiled again, but his eyes fell on the notebook lying on the floor, now ungraciously opened to display its contents. That's not a notebook . . . John's forehead creased as he knelt down to pick it up.
Tess swung herself around to look and her eyes widened in horror. She fell to her knees and grabbed the sketch book before John could get a better look. She stood up, closing it. He stood up as well, looking at her oddly. "What is that?"
She shook her head, her expression that of someone who had no clue what was going on. "It's nothing."
John was sceptical. "Tess. What's in the book?"
Tess straightened up. "That is no concern of yours."
In one swift motion, John plucked the book from her hand, turning around and hugging it to his chest childishly. Tess jumped behind him, grabbing at random moments yelling childishly, "John! Give it back! John!"
John shrugged away her hands and opened the book. Tessa gave him a dirty look.
Inside were sketches of people. There were no backgrounds, and the faces held little character. In fact, they were mostly the same, expressionless woman over and over again with the occasional hair colour change. Occasionally, he would come across a male, usually in a tuxedo. These drawings perplexed him: why draw mere figures? It was obvious by the style that more detail could be drawn, it just hadn't. So why bother? Then he noticed the only difference between one figure and another - the fashions.
The woman on the first page had a high bun coloured blonde. She wore a sophisticated pants-suite that seemed a touch fancy. The next page held the same woman with dark hair and tanned skin, a rose in her hair, which hung loosely around her shoulders. Her outfit was completely different. She wore a spaghetti-strap dress, form-fitting, that showed off her legs and spike-heels.
Ignoring Tessa's impatient glances, John flipped the page, and the blonde was back. This time she was in a variation of the dress. It still was the same pink colour - a soft pink, not pale exactly, but not bright - but it had only one strap, and this time a see-through shawl in a paler hue hung around her shoulders. The hair was pulled up in the bun again, but the flower was in her hair. It seemed the artist had taken more time with this particular drawing, and it almost appeared as though this one had a glow to it. There were even little rose petals drawn around the figure's feet.
The next model was a male, with blonde hair. The tuxedo was cut well, obviously tailored to his broad-shouldered figure. It was black, and very formal. The strange thing was, though, the tie was the same colour as the dress the two previous women had been wearing. His hair was gelled back smoothly. Next to this model, another man had been drawn. His tuxedo was very similar, again, obviously tailored. But the cut seemed even more formal, and instead of a tie, he had a bow-tie. The hair was completely different too - brown in colour with faint blonde streaks through it. The hair had been gathered in random spikes. The man seemed drawn with care, adding eye colour, something none of the other people had.
Tessa sighed, and he flipped the page again, and it all made sense. Before him was a red-headed lady. She seemed to have been drawn beautiful, but not on purpose - almost accidental, in fact. The hair was up like the two women's only two wavy strands hung loosely framing her face, and in the back, instead of being a neat bun, hair came out in wavy clumps, in a way that looked beautiful. It was the dress that gave it away, though. It had thin straps, with a clinging top and a bottom hanging loosely - a beautiful white wedding dress. The top part was, indeed, a tight fit, but in no way uncomfortable, and at her waist, Tessa had drawn a small rose, identical to those in Penny and Tin-Tin's hair. The skirt part hang in an almost Victorian way - very big, but without the hoop skirt. The fabric pulled up in various parts, in a beautiful way. There was no train, and her shoes could not be seen, but to him, Tessa had never looked more beautiful.
He looked up at her. "You drew these?"
She nodded, "And designed them." There was a pause before she added nervously, "Well . . . what do you think?"
"They seem . . . perfect." His tone was astonishment.
"Really?" she asked hopefully.
"Well . . ," he began, frowning at something. She sighed, exasperated. He looked up at her. "No, no, it's nothing bad. Just, the dress," he explained, showing her the white gown, "The straps on it are a little plain. I think it would look better as an off-the-shoulder, and you could wear a collar."
A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she grabbed the pencil she'd been using earlier. Carefully taking the book from his hands, she erased the straps and drew in his suggestion, even adding the collar. When she'd finished, they both stopped to admire it.
"Perfect," they said in unison. At the same time, they turned and smiled at each other.
John teasingly flipped the pages back. "Now, about this pink tie . . ."
-
While John was admiring Tessa for designing her own wedding, Gordon sat at his father's computer, thinking he'd never get his own.
HoboJoe214: Hey babes.
MuffinTree37: Heya, sup Gordo?
Gordon racked his brain for something to say. I'm sorry - your dad is a homicidal maniac, and it's all good for my brother to get involved with your older sister, but you? His illegitimate child who he's only known about for a couple weeks? Sorry, no luck.
Gordon shook his head. No, that wouldn't work. Look, Mimosa, you're a wonderful girl - smart, sassy, beautiful . . . Again, no luck.
MuffinTree37: Babe? You there?
He typed furiously.
HoboJoe214: Oh, sorry. Distracted today. How are you?
MuffinTree37: Guess I'm alright. Dad called today. Long story short, I'm gonna visit him in London.
Gordon gulped. Dad. The Hood.
MuffinTree37: And I was kinda hoping I could meet you there too.
Oh, crap. How am I gonna get out of this one? he thought.
HoboJoe214: Oh...well, um...
MuffinTree37: Look, is there someone else over there? Am I, like, 'the other woman'?
HoboJoe214: Gosh no! Where would you get that idea?
MuffinTree37: Well, you never want to meet, every time the subject comes up. And you've started acting, I dunno, weird all of the sudden.
Gordon sighed. Never before had a muffin tree given him such trouble.
HoboJoe214: No, trust me, it's nothing like that. There's only you. It's just ... difficult to date someone online like this.
MuffinTree37: Okay, so meet me in London. Dude, you do live there, remember?
Crap. How was he gonna get out of this one? She was an intelligent girl - despite only being a cartoonist - and he knew she'd figure something was up.
HoboJoe214: I'm just really busy right now. I don't want to let you down, but the queen needs her private jet worked on, and one of our major planes is knocked out . . .
MuffinTree37: lol Yeah...riiiiiiight. You can't fool me, Mr. Tracy. I've known who you really are from day one.
(More gulping on Gordon's part)
HoboJoe214: raises eyebrow Okay, I'll bite - who am I really?
MuffinTree37: Now if I told you that, it would spoil the fun.
HoboJoe214: So spoil.
MuffinTree37: Nope. You'll just have to guess. :p
HoboJoe214: smilingOkay...fireman? Police officer? Professional cow tipper, maybe?
MuffinTree37: Nope. You give up? ;)
HoboJoe214: Yes. Now, who am I?
There was a sharp intake of breathe from Gordon. It was slowly released when an instant notification popped up.
MuffinTree37 HAS LOGGED OFF
He waited for 5 minutes. Nothing. Another five went by, and he surfed the net. Ten more minutes went by, and he saw a name pop online then quickly offline again (presumably because she had seen Gordon was online), but she didn't come back. He clicked the 'log off' button and got up. Mimosa was a mysterious creature . . . and he was making excellent progress on getting rid of her.
-
Tess stepped outside, the beam from the setting sun making her skin glow. It seemed that her hair was not in fact hair but a halo. She looked to her left to find Virgil laying in the hammock smiling at her. She'd never know it, but he was questioning how he'd ever gotten lucky enough to have her as a fiancée.
She walked over to where the hammock was, and stared down at him. She crossed her arms, and flicked her head, sending a curtain of red hair over her shoulder. A smirk crossed her lips. "I'm ready to forgive you now."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he asked, and attempted to prop himself on his elbow, forgetting he was in a hammock. The result was the hammock swung violently to his right, causing him to land hard on the ground at Tess's feet. He let out a small groan.
Tessa held back laughter as she quipped, "Consider yourself forgiven."
He looked up at her as if she'd just told a bad joke before pushing himself back up and sitting gingerly in the middle of the hammock, holding onto the edge of the fabric. "Well, good. Frankly, I was getting worried. It's very bad if two people, who are getting married, don't talk to each other."
She sighed. "Yeah . . . especially since I have to go to a meeting with the seamstresses in two days . . ."
"What!" Virgil was shocked. He lost his balance again at this, but because he was holding the fabric, he fell backwards onto the grass.
Tessa expertly stepped over the hammock, and offered him her hand. "Yes," she responded, as he grabbed her hand, "I have to meet with the seamstresses so they can begin on the dresses and your brother's tuxedo. We have to get measurements and everything done. We are, after all, pushing for October, and it's already August."
He stood up, dusting himself off. When he'd finished, he looked directly at her, taking her hand. "If you have to go, I suppose I can let you . . . for a few days." She beamed at him, and he returned the grin. He abruptly turned his head back then, looking around for any unwanted family members. He smiled at her, and pulled her back towards the hammock.
She grinned sheepishly at him as he lay down and pulled her onto the hammock with him. She lay down next to him, and let him put his arm around her. They were silent together for a long moment, and a breeze rocked them softly. "Tess . . ," he whispered, pointing to a small stretch of beach on the island, "do you see the shore, right there? By the rocks?"
"Yes," she whispered, in a ghostly voice. "I see it."
He smiled, memories floating back as gently as the breeze. "Little more than a year ago, I thought I heard a noise," she blushed as he spoke, "and decided to walk down there. And you know what I found?"
She laughed. "Enlighten me," she whispered.
Virgil smiled, and kissed the top of her head. "My soul mate."
She turned her head, and let him kiss her softly. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her happily. "Let's get married there."
Her only response was to kiss him again. Just as she was hoping to stay where she was forever, she heard the distant sounds of the alarm from Alan going off. As usual, the call of duty thwarted romance.