A/N: Aaaaand…a break from my regularly scheduled hiatus. I really can't dive back into the deep end of this story yet, for reasons that are varied and many, but it's been almost two months (!?) and this story has been kicking my subconscious for the better part of a week.
The stuff about selling houses and moving was actually part of this story even before I set it aside. Then my parents moved this week, and my sister just sold her house.
Happy Spring, dearies!
Late February, 2017
The heat blew from the radiator as she sat in the idling car. From the outside, the house looked promising.
But who knows what the inside looks like?
Elsie wished for the hundredth time that week that Charles could be there. Not only to have another pair of eyes to look over the houses she'd see, but to hear his voice asking the agent questions, and…and just to have him there.
His presence. She missed him.
That infernal trial. Will it ever end?
Charles, Tom and Jimmy had been stuck in a courtroom for the better part of the month. A complicated lawsuit brought out the worst in the opposing counsel – objections, motions filed, motions in limine demanding more evidence. More witnesses called, more testimony.
More time.
When she did see her husband, it was either early morning and they both were getting ready to leave, or it was long past when she'd gone to bed, and he'd finally turn in, both too exhausted for more than a quick kiss and a murmured I love you.
She reminded herself she wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of contact with her family. She'd had Sybbie stay with her the previous weekend. Though they had had fun, it was clear the little girl missed her father. Thomas moaned more than once to the office manager that she saw more of his man than he did. Which was precious little.
It was not just the attorneys, either. Both Phyllis and Ivy had to attend the court sessions each day. Joe and Alfred were rather forlorn.
Fishing her phone from her purse, Elsie checked it in the vain hope that Charles would have texted. Her heart leaped when she saw she had a message, but it was from Anna.
Anna Bates to Elsie Carson, 3:02 pm
Matthew came back after his hearing at the courthouse. Tom told him the trial will go again tomorrow, and likely not finish until the end of the week at the earliest. Closing arguments hopefully start Wednesday. Sorry to disappoint you.
The use of cell phones at the courthouse was forbidden. At the best of times, the ban was a nuisance. At the worst, it was intolerable. She had hoped that they would have been dismissed a little early, and Charles would have been able to call or text her before she left the office to meet with their real estate agent. But no such luck.
They were finally, finally beginning the process to look for a new home. They had compiled a list of must-haves, strong preferences, plus some feedback from the 'grands'. Sybbie and Poppy wanted a pizza oven. George had begged that they get a house with a swimming pool.
He did not understand why the couple laughed, though they told the boy they would think about it.
At Matthew and Mary's Super Bowl party, Marigold had crept over to Charles and whispered her wish for a backyard swing. As much as he and Elsie listened to all the children, Edith's daughter held a very special place in their hearts.
Elsie's phone buzzed as she was sending a reply to Anna. The young woman had sent another text, a picture of Poppy wearing John's fedora, holding two thumbs up. Keep smiling, Nana Elsie!
Elsie Carson to Anna Bates, 3:04 pm
Aw, thank you for the picture! My spirits need lifting! I will love Judge Harrison forever if he puts an end to this idiocy and has them start closing arguments Wed.
AB to EC, 3:05 pm
Here's hoping. You're welcome! She's recently started doing the "thumbs up" all the time. John taught her to snap her fingers. She likes to come into the family room wearing his hat and doing that. I'm living in a 1940s detective film! :-D
EC to AB, 3:05 pm
Love her, and S too! Give them kisses from us.
AB to EC, 3:07 pm
Will do. Good luck w/ the agent!
EC to AB, 3:07 pm
Thx.
Elsie sighed and put her phone back in her purse. She and Charles had wanted to hire Jean, the agent who had sold Elsie's condo, but the woman's business had expanded in the last year. She had recommended a newer agent. He was young, but very capable, she said.
He had scheduled several viewings for Elsie on a grey Tuesday. She considered it something of a trial for him. The comparison forced a rueful smile to her lips.
A silver Honda went past her going the opposite way on the street, only to turn in the cul-de-sac and park behind her car. A tall young man emerged. Elsie got out, feeling every bit of the cold wind.
"Mrs. Carson?"
She smiled as he approached, offering her hand. "Yes. You must be Mr. Pelham."
He nodded, shaking her hand. "Let's get out of the wind, shall we?"
They hurried to the front door of the house. It did not have a front porch, just a few stairs and a narrow entryway.
Now, girl, don't discount it before you've even seen inside!
The agent fiddled with the code before opening the door and letting her go in first. It was a relief to be inside.
"I think it's colder now than it was this morning," he remarked, as they walked into the front hall. "I am terribly sorry I was late, my last showing was all the way over on Memorial Drive. I hope you weren't waiting long."
"No, not at all." Elsie reassured him.
They went all over the house, she trying to see details through her own eyes as well as Charlie's. She knew fairly quickly that it was not the house for them. Still, there were favorable qualities to it, and other details to consider for other places.
Mr. Pelham was professional, and polite. He had a genial manner and was easy to talk with.
By the time they got to the fourth and last house of the day, she was certain that Charles would like him, and that he would not mind if she hired him.
They were standing in the middle of an empty kitchen, chatting about the house in general. "The backyard is not large, but should be big enough for entertaining," he said. "And a swing from the elm there, as you requested. From what Jean told me, you and Mr. Carson have a large number of family and friends nearby."
"Yes," she smiled, "we do. What about you?"
He shook his head. "I'm rather envious," he said as they walked to the front of the house. "My mother lives in the city, but my only close cousin, Peter, moved to South Africa two years ago. He's been more like a brother to me," he explained. "His partner Jibril got a position in Cape Town."
"Oh, that is a long way away," Elsie said in sympathy. "Do they ever travel here?"
"About twice a year. But as you can imagine Mrs. Carson, the plane tickets are not cheap."
"No, I imagine not!" It made her think of Tom and Sybil. Elsie hesitated for a moment. "If we are to work together, I'd like you to call me Elsie. I don't mind Mrs. Carson, but it's a bit formal."
"If you like," he said, buttoning up his coat. "When Jean recommended me to you, I decided to play it safe. I've heard of Mr. Carson, and knew he had a more traditional view of things."
Elsie laughed. "Yes, he does. When you meet him, call him Mr. Carson. He's quite friendly, but not many people call him by his first name except me, my sister and some of our old friends." She dug for her keys. "What do you prefer to go by? Your card says Herbert."
"Call me Bertie, please, Elsie," he grinned. "Not even my mother calls me by my full name!"
"I know how you feel. When Charlie and I got married, it was the first time I'd been called Elspeth in years."
"Don't worry, you won't hear it from me. Unless you end up being one of those people who get shown seventy-five houses and still can't narrow down the list." He raised his eyebrows.
"We are much more decisive than that, I assure you," she said. "I will talk to him about the houses today, and will let you know if we want to see any of them again. The one on Glenwood Avenue has a nice bar in the basement, Charlie would like that. I wouldn't mind it, either." Her eyes twinkled.
They chatted about the houses for a little longer. Bertie made several notes on his phone, tweaking their list. "Hopefully the trial will end soon. There are a few more places I've got that you and Mr. Carson might like to see."
She drove home, devoutly hoping the next time there were house showings that Charlie would be with her.
He was exhausted.
The trial had dragged on into its third week. It was not the strain of preparing for each day that added to his fatigue. The mental energy was taxing. Though Charles bore the brunt of the behind-the-scenes work for himself, leaving much of the actual arguments in court to Tom and James, he was the solid presence behind them.
Tom had tried cases in court, but none so complex. James, usually self-assured, privately doubted his own ability. For both younger men, it was a nervy experience. Charles encouraged both of them. He gave advice when it was needed, and shored up their flagging confidence.
But it took a toll on him.
It was not until Tuesday when he sensed the opposing counsel's witness, and their case, cracking under James's withering cross-examination, that he allowed himself to relax. A little.
I can see the end now.
The three were shut in the large conference room at Carson, Crawley & Bates finalizing the details of the closing arguments, having sent their secretaries home. The remains of dinner lay scattered among the legal pads, empty coffee cups and half-empty water bottles, and laptops. The associates had opted for sandwiches, and the managing partner finished an enormous Cobb salad.
"I could go for a Newcastle," James slumped over the table, rubbing his tired eyes. Tom laughed.
"I could go for three."
"No alcohol until after the verdict," Charles said. He knew if he opened a bottle of Cabernet he'd polish the whole thing off by himself. James raised his head.
"Mr. Carson, do you think I should mention Cameron's testimony directly? I don't want to antagonize the jury right before they go to deliberation…"
"Yes," Charles said, with all the patience of a man who had been asked the same question four times in the last hour. "He admitted Perry and Graham's smoking weed in the trailer impaired their judgment, that they would not have had the sense to read the directions on the camper heater before falling asleep." He clapped James on the shoulder. "You should trust your own judgment. You know what you're doing."
"Listen to him," Tom encouraged. "If not to me. You've been brilliant, Jimmy. There's a good chance we will win, thanks to what you did today."
"You set it up last week, when you questioned Dr. Funke," the blond man leaned back in his chair, his arm slung over his head.
"Thanks, but I was a wreck beforehand." Tom turned to Charles. "You nearly had to drag me into the courtroom, my legs were shaking so badly. I can't thank you enough," he drank a sip of water. "I can't imagine you ever feeling ill before an important cross-examination due to nerves!"
"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" Charles laughed, glancing at James. "I suppose it would help my reputation if I said I've always been confident in my own ability, never needing any encouragement. But that wouldn't be true."
"Violet told me about one of your early cases, soon after you started at the firm," Tom said. "A personal injury lawsuit dealing with a car crash. She said you looked like death warmed over. But somehow you walked into the courtroom and convinced the jury your client could not be held fully liable."
Nodding, Charles drank the rest of his water. "Did she mention that she was the one who figuratively, if not actually doing so, propped me up? I was convinced I would faint in front of the judge."
The associates laughed. "Was that the worst time you had?" James asked. "Or was it all smooth sailing after that, because you knew you could do it?"
"It was the worst in a way, because that was my first trial," the older man acknowledged. "But there've been many times over the years that I doubted myself. Oh yes," he said, raising his eyebrows at the man's skeptical expression. "There was a trial in the late '90s that Robert and I were involved with. A woman and her boyfriend were suing her ex-husband for damages that included most of the man's business. The boyfriend claimed," he cleared his throat, "that he had fallen out of a tree on the man's property. There was no dispute over that," he tapped a pen on the table, remembering.
"But the difficulty was establishing the extent of the boyfriend's injuries and applying them to other incidents, besides the accident itself. Robert and I were convinced that the woman was motivated not only to ruin her ex, but to make it impossible for him to provide for their children in the way that he had been. When he told them that he might have to leave his house and get a smaller place (preparing them if he lost the case), they told him point-blank that they would rather live with their mother full time. They were like pawns between them."
Tom whistled. "So if the jury decided in her favor, or she got the settlement she wanted…"
"It would have bankrupted him," Charles said softly. "And likely meant the end of joint custody. And he did not want that. We knew our client would have to pay something, but what they wanted was patently ridiculous." He swallowed. "He was not a perfect person, or a perfect parent, but he did not deserve being alienated from his children, his family. What I felt then was an awful burden, a sense of responsibility. In a way, I felt like he was entrusting his life to me."
For a moment he was back in the same conference room, only in the last century. His hair more grey than silver. It was dark outside, the sun having gone down, much like the present day…
He had sent Robert home. It wasn't fair to keep him from Cora and the girls. His younger partner had left, with the promise to come early the next morning to go over the day's proceedings.
Charles sighed, his eyes itchy. Mr. Lewis had openly cried after coming back from the courtroom. It looked hopeless. He had done his best to encourage the man, showing him that all was not lost.
But alone in the conference room he was not sure he believed his own words.
He covered his face with his hands.
"Mr. Carson?"
He took a deep breath, blinking up at the figure in the doorway. "Mrs. Hughes. I hope I wasn't keeping you. I thought everyone had gone."
Her purse was on her shoulder, her coat in her hands. "I was just on my way out." She tilted her head. "I hope you don't have to stay too late. You need a good night's rest. It won't do for Mr. Lewis to have an attorney who can't keep his eyes open."
Her tone was utterly professional, but as ever tinged with real concern. She had a knack for it. The attorneys and most of the staff held the office manager in the highest respect because she not only did her job well, but genuinely cared about them as people.
He knew she cared for him. As a friend. At times over the years, he had had fleeting thoughts of wondering whether it went any deeper, but set them aside. He cleared his throat and pushed his chair back a little. "Thank you, but I'm not staying much longer. An early night is just what I need." He smiled, but didn't feel it reach his eyes.
She was not fooled. She took two steps into the room, adjusting the strap of her purse. "Mr. Carson…is everything…all right?"
He wanted to tell her yes. That it was just the stress of the trial.
But he couldn't lie to her.
"No," he said. It felt like a relief to say it out loud. "I…I'm doing my best, Robert and I both are, but…it doesn't look good. And if he loses his business, and his children over this…" his throat closed. "It will be my fault." He focused on the table, the glow of the florescent light on the glass.
"Don't be daft," she replied lightly. "If you lose the case, and the worst happens, it will not be on you. On the judge or jury who awards a frivolous settlement, yes. You cannot control what happens outside the courtroom, and only a little of what happens in it. You are doing your very best, and Mr. Lewis knows that." She took another step closer. "I hope it's not presumptuous to say it, but I'm proud of you. No matter what happens."
He had to work very hard not to cry. "Thank you," he whispered. "That…that means a lot to me."
More than she knew.
"Would I be pressing my luck to insist on buying the first drink on Friday?" she asked, a slight smile curving her lips. "Or is that too modern for you?"
A genuine smile appeared on his face. "No. I suppose it's only fair. I've bought plenty of them."
The case ended in a settlement, a larger one than he would have liked, but Mr. Lewis was able to keep his business. And joint custody of his children.
And the office manager bought him a drink that Friday at Pedro's.
James cleared his throat, and Charles came back to the present. "Sorry…I didn't mean to take a trip down memory lane."
"What happened to restore your confidence?" The young man leaned forward. "Did you win the case?"
"It ended satisfactorily for us," Charles said, picking up an empty wrapper and tossing it into the trash can. "As for my confidence, well. Sometimes the right words from the right person at the right time make all the difference."
He did not need to look directly at the other two to see them smile.
That night when he got home, he slipped into the darkened bedroom. His wife was already asleep. He sat on the bed and gently reached for her, unable to try to sleep himself without hearing her voice.
"Elsie," he whispered. She murmured for a moment without words. Climbing beneath the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, her head against his chest. "I love you. Good night." He kissed the top of her head.
"'Love you," she mumbled, half-asleep. "Good night, Charlie." Her accent was thick in her fatigue.
Part of him wanted to wake her fully, to talk with her. Ask what she thought of the agent. Of the houses she'd seen.
He wanted to tell her that he was able to give Tom and James confidence because she had once given it to him. He didn't think he could ever put into words what her support, her pride had meant to him.
He missed her even as she slept in his arms. It made his heart burn to think of the days gone by, the time spent away from her. She understood why; it was not the first time. And it would likely not be the last.
I am ready to retire.
She isn't.
That's all right. With one of us free, there will already be more time. More flexibility.
He smiled as she let out a small snore, her breath tickling the hair on his chest.
All the more reason to find a new home sooner rather than later.
She heard Ivy before she saw her on Thursday afternoon. The young woman called hello to Madge as she passed her desk after flying up the stairs. Elsie's heart stuttered, and she had to close her eyes for a moment, to keep herself calm.
It's over. Thank God.
"Mrs. Carson?" Ivy popped her head into her office. "The jury ruled in our favor! Jimmy was brilliant, so was Tom, and Mr. Carson looked relieved. They'll be back soon. He told me to tell you."
"Thank you, Ivy. That's wonderful!" Elsie smiled at her before turning back to her work.
Not that she would be able to concentrate.
It was all she could do to stay in her seat, and listen for the sound of his voice coming up the stairs. A millennium went by before she heard him.
He praised the associates and secretaries' hard work to Robert and Cora, who had come out of their offices.
Then he knocked on her door. With a look from her, he came in and softly shut it. Never mind what the staff thought.
She stood up and came around her desk, her hand resting on its smooth surface.
"We won," he said, his shoulders back. "Tom and James did wonderfully, they deserve all the praise." He smiled, relief evident on his face. "I don't mind letting them take all the glory-"
His words were stopped when his wife pulled him down for a kiss. She slid a hand from his pink tie to his face, her fingers caressing his cheek, to the back of his neck. Charles opened his lips over hers. The touch of her, the warmth of her breath humming into his mouth. The taste of her.
It had been way too long.
He moaned softly, mindful of the thin walls and the door that could open at any moment. But if she kept kissing him like that he would not be able to control himself.
They broke apart, breathing hard. "I'm so glad for you, for them. Let the lads have the glory," she whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. "I'll take the managing partner."
The way she said it made his trousers grow tight. She means that literally.
It was a good thing they had parted, for no sooner had she spoken then Joe knocked, then entered. The rest of the day they barely saw each other, taken up with the mundane details of work. Charles left slightly early, eager to go home and see their furry children for a while.
Elsie could not find it in her heart to be angry with him when she came home. He was asleep in the recliner, Pepper on his lap and Spike curled at his feet.
He is so tired.
After dinner, he went to bed early. He was asleep long before she came in.
"Poor you," Beryl laughed, running her finger along the top of her glass. "Finally your man comes home, and he's too tired to get up to anything!"
Isobel covered her mouth and managed to swallow her martini. "Beryl, honestly!" She coughed, looking at Elsie. "Is she always like this?"
"Yes," Elsie grinned. She was far too used to Beryl to be offended. "For your information, I didn't mind. I would rather him have a good night's sleep and get back into a regular routine. That's more important than…other things."
Charles had woken up late that morning, but had gotten ready in time for them to drive to work together. He had encouraged her to leave the office promptly at five, promising to be there soon.
She was glad to spend some time with her friends, enjoying a Friday evening drink. But the weekend would not begin properly until he got to Pedro's.
Despite the early hour, the bar was already crowded. Isobel had grabbed a table for them. Bill was planning on coming later, as was Richard Clarkson. Until Beryl had mentioned Charles, she and Elsie had been teasing their attorney friend non-stop about the medical examiner.
A local sorority had taken over a large number of tables, as well as places at the bar. Elsie smiled into her Moscato when Tara kicked out a pair of girls from the two chairs at the end. The bartender gestured in her direction, motioning to the clock. 5:21.
Sighing, Elsie shrugged at her. She didn't want to leave her friends, even to sit alone at the bar, but if Charles didn't arrive soon, Tara would have no choice but to let others sit in their spots.
"…but I put my foot down when Matthew said he was going to speak to Richard," Isobel was saying. "I told him I was perfectly capable of having a relationship without my son interfering!"
"Of course," Beryl drank some more of her Guinness. "But really, maybe someone does need to talk to him. You don't want to have to wait as long as she did." She pointed at Elsie.
"Richard moves faster than Charles," Isobel said. She rolled her eyes when she saw the others' expressions. "Oh, you know what I mean – Mr. Carson moved with all the speed of a tortoise before you married!"
The noise grew in the room. The sorority sisters, some with dates, mostly took over the small dance floor.
"What in the hell are they playing on the jukebox?" Beryl called over the din. "I'm getting flashbacks! Bloody awful!"
Isobel and Elsie laughed. "It must be '80s night, or '90s," Elsie grinned at the girls dancing. "You didn't mind the music so much then, Bee!"
"I didn't have anything to compare it to," her friend retorted. "It's no wonder I took up drinking before dancing!"
Elsie shook her head, taking another sip of wine. She glanced up at the clock above the bar and her heart skipped several beats.
A man sat in the next to last seat from the end. He laughed at something Tara said, his silver hair glinting under the lights, his collar open, his sleeves rolled up.
For some reason, she could not take her eyes off his arms, the way he rested them on the bar. Running a finger through his hair above his ear. His hand around his glass.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice barely audible over the music and conversation. She stood up and glanced quickly at her friends. "Please tell Bill and Richard hello for me."
"Have a good night," Isobel replied, despite knowing Elsie was already far away. Beryl smirked.
Making her way through the crowd, Elsie set her purse down before pulling herself into the seat at the end. She set her half-full glass down and casually leaned on the bar, turning toward the man next to her.
"I wouldn't expect to see someone like you here this evening," she began. "It's mostly a girls' night out."
He shrugged and sipped his AmberBock. "That means the view is better," he set his glass down, flexing his fingers. His white gold ring glinted. "More beautiful women for me to enjoy."
"Oh, I see," she nodded. "Are you looking for a certain type in particular? Or will anyone do?"
"'Anyone'? Hardly," he scoffed. "No, I have high standards where women are concerned. I'm very difficult to please. Indeed, I think my standards are so high only one woman would ever satisfy them."
"Oh dear, those are high standards," she took a long sip of her wine. "I pity the woman who has to live up to them."
"My wife doesn't need pity," he said firmly. "I think she is well satisfied with our marriage."
Elsie raised her eyebrows. "You seem quite certain. I wonder how she would define satisfaction."
"Yeah, I'm curious about that, too," Tara murmured as she passed by on the other side of the bar.
He leaned over towards Elsie. She sucked in a breath, her eyes flitting down to his unbuttoned collar, his broad chest, his dark trousers that showed off his legs.
"I have yet to hear any complaints from her," he murmured, his voice barely a rumble under the music. "Attention to detail is my strong suit. She taught me that."
She thought she would fall off the stool. "Well," she stammered, gripping the bar, "that is very admirable, if true. Why don't you show me? Dance with me."
He held out his hand for her to take, a smile playing on his lips. They walked to the edge of the dance floor, where the music had thankfully changed.
Frowning, he slid one hand to her waist while the other rested on her shoulder. "I don't know this song."
"Neither do I," she said, though it sounded vaguely familiar.
I could lose my heart tonight
If you don't turn and walk away
'Cause the way I feel I might
Lose control and let you stay
'Cause I could take you in my arms
And never let go
I could fall in love with you
I could fall in love with you…
"I remember now," she said softly, squeezing his shoulder. "Years ago, I heard this song. At the time I was in love with my boss. But he didn't know how I felt…" she bit her lip, looking off across the room. "And I didn't know if he would ever know."
And I know it's not right
And I guess I should try
To do what I should do
But I could fall in love,
Fall in love with you…
"Did he?" he asked. "Did he ever find out you loved him?" His eyes were soft. She gave him a gentle smile.
"Yes. And the wonder of it was, he loved me, too."
Their movements had slowed until they stopped. He leaned forward and tilted her head up, kissing her sweetly on the lips.
Several of the sorority girls noticed, as well as Beryl and Bill, who sat together at the table in the corner.
He looked down at her, the light in her eyes, the slight flush on her face. "He loved you then," he whispered, "he loves you now, he will love you forever."
"As I love him," she murmured.
They walked hand in hand back to the bar. She motioned to Tara. "That's all for tonight. Thanks for saving the seats." She gave a half-apologetic shrug. "We didn't sit for very long, sorry."
"No problem," the young woman said. "I know you'll be back next week."
Before they had left the building, he was touching her. His hand on her waist, the other sliding down from her shoulder down her side as he followed behind her through the mass of people. In between the double doors, after he had pulled on his suit jacket and winter coat, he swept her into his arms. They kissed until she gasped for air.
"Charlie," she moaned, "take me home."
They kissed again outside despite the cold air. Walking alone the brick mural of the side wall in the dim light, she pulled at his lapels.
He could not resist her.
His open mouth against hers, their tongues teasing each other. His big hands cradled her face before sliding into her hair. She reached around him, holding him as close as she could.
He took a step backwards so as not to lose his balance. He would never have noticed the person behind him if he had not heard a sudden cry, then felt himself bump into someone in the semi-darkness.
Elsie gasped, still holding onto him. "What-?"
Charles glanced behind him. It was another couple. He squinted, seeing a shorter man. "Dr. Clarkson? Richard?"
"Charles Carson? I'm terribly sorry, we-I didn't see you," the familiar brogue of the medical examiner floated through the air. Elsie went red. She tugged on Charles's sleeve, trying to get him to move, but he didn't understand.
"Who's there? I'm afraid I stepped-"
"It's only me, Carson, no need to worry that you've run me over," Isobel pulled her coat further around herself. Her usually coiffed hair looked distinctly ruffled.
Charles's mouth fell open before he recovered. "Ah – good. Well, we're off. Sorry to disturb you. A pleasant evening to you, and to you, Dr. Clarkson."
"Good night," Elsie said quietly as they passed. She hoped they hadn't ruined the moment. Isobel gave her a half smile as she passed, and the gesture gave her some relief.
I will have to call her later.
"I had no idea," Charles said, sounding half-dazed on the way home. "That Isobel…and Richard…did you?"
"Yes," Elsie said, biting back a laugh. "For quite a while now. Almost a year, if not longer."
They reached home without any further incident. The Beasleys' house was dark, Pete and Sharon having gone to Hawaii for their annual winter trip.
Charles slipped the key into the lock. This time it was Elsie who could not keep her hands to herself. Letting out a groan as she cupped his bottom, Charles opened the door.
He did feel guilt that he let out Pepper only to put her in the laundry room when she came back inside. Elsie put Spike in the guest bedroom, where his bed was. Normally, both animals had the run of the house.
Not tonight, Elsie thought as she headed back toward the kitchen. Charles had removed his coat and jacket, as well as his shoes. Her heart thumped almost painfully at the sight of his broad back. She slipped behind him, wrapping her arms around him. He took a deep breath.
"Where's Spike?"
"Guest room," she murmured against his back.
"Good," he turned in her arms, his hands finding her hips. "I love them, both of them, but I don't want any more distractions tonight. Only you," he breathed, kissing her forehead, along her hairline. "Only you, Elsie. My only."
She whimpered when he kissed her on the mouth. At first it was slow, deliberate. But then it escalated, their lips open, wordless moans passing between them. He raked his fingers through her hair before sliding his hands down her body. She fumbled for the buttons on his shirt.
Before she could undo two or three, he took her wrists and pulled her toward the recliner. He sat down, and she climbed onto his lap.
They resumed kissing.
This time she was slightly looking down on him, her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tugging on his hair. He folded back the collar of her blouse.
His mouth, his lips, his tongue on the soft skin of her throat. On her chest. The slow, steady, incessant movement of his hands on the small of her back, on her legs.
"Oh god," she choked, leaning back to let him unbutton the top of her blouse, "don't stop touching me. Touch me, Charlie."
The more he touched her, the more she wanted him. Needed him.
She reached down and unbuckled his belt. He leaned forward slightly, so she could work it through the loops. Her body against his, her heavy breaths panting, god, her legs around his waist, the heat of her.
Her blouse was open enough for him to press soft kisses against her cleavage. Tongue the rounded swell of her breasts. She cried out, and the sound made his hips thrust forward.
She didn't want to get up. And yet she was wearing too many clothes, he was wearing too many clothes, and there was no way for them to remove them unless she moved. Getting up, she stood in front of him, her face flushed, her hair tangled. She unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and tossed it on the couch. It was followed by her black trousers and tights.
He sat openly staring at her. His breath coming faster with the more she revealed herself.
"Y-you're so beautiful," he stuttered, his eyes nearly black with desire. "And smart. The kindest heart I've ever known…I would be lost without you."
She stripped herself of her underwear and bra. But somehow his words made her feel more vulnerable than her nakedness.
"Charlie," she bit her lip. She had to force herself to look him in the face. "I love you for saying it, but I am not as grand as you make me out to be." He unzipped his trousers, and she pulled them off of him.
"I say it because it's true," he said, wiggling out of his shorts and tossing them aside. He held out his arms in a silent appeal for her to return to them. She smiled slightly, and gestured. Pulling off his shirt, he tossed it to her. "You see? Smart," he sighed as she sank back onto his lap.
"And you, my man," she breathed as they kissed, she drawing his lower lip into her mouth, "Do you know what you do to me when I see you walk into a room?" She put her hands over his, which rested on her thighs. "The way you stand, your every expression. Your voice," she whispered in his ear. "God, I've missed hearing you, not just at home, but in the office next door. I've missed you," she repeated.
She rolled her hips forward, feeling his hardness beneath her. He continued kissing her, returning to her breasts, taking one into his mouth. He grazed his tongue gently across her scar, his hands sliding to the tops of her thighs. His tenderness brought tears to her eyes.
His fingers traced a circle in the tangled hair above her mound. She leaned to one side, and managed to get the recliner to lay back. Charles gasped, then smiled up at her. His hands still hovered near her center.
"Touch me," she breathed, moaning as she felt him beginning to rock forward, "god, touch me, take me-Charlie, a ghraidh-"
She fell forward, her hands on his chest. He shifted only a little, gasping as she sank onto the tip of his erect manhood. He thrust up, deeper, into her.
His rhythm was slow. She moaned, whimpered, cried out, rolling her hips forward. He felt her tightening, and tried mightily to hold on. But god, the words that she was saying-
"Take me," she begged, leaning back so that he was nearly out of her before she leaned forward again, sinking onto his length. "Don't stop, don't stop, I want you-y-es, inside me, yes, oh god, take me-e-e-ahhh-"
She exploded above him in a keening cry of ecstasy. "ELSIE!" he roared, losing control. His hands pressed on the small of her back, pressing her closer as he thrust into her. He could feel the pulse of himself inside her, the warmth of her sex contracting around him.
He felt so good, so good inside her. This was what she missed, them together, home, the hair on his chest rubbing her breasts, his gasping moans, her wild keening. And all the time their bodies moving in tandem.
She shuddered against him with the last cry still echoing from her lips. Kissing him, she sighed as he gently removed himself from her. Laying her head against his chest, she tried to speak but found she couldn't.
Charles stroked her hair, feeling her shaking. It wasn't until she gave a little sob that he realized she was crying.
"Are you all right, love?" he murmured, trying to turn his head so he could see her.
"Mmm-hmmm," she managed to gasp. She raised her head, her eyes rimmed with tears. Trying to smile, instead she dissolved once more, covering her face with her hands.
He gently raised the recliner so that they were sitting up. He kept his arms around her as she cried. He didn't think anything was really wrong, but he started to worry when she didn't stop right away.
She wanted to stop crying. The last thing she wanted was to worry him. But like the explosion of pleasure, she could do little until she was finished weeping. Her sobs quieted, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her back.
"I don't know…" she began, but then realized she did know. "I don't want to be apart from you," she whispered. "Not like the last few weeks. Not again. Not ever again. We've been through so much in the last year, and I don't…I never want to take us for granted." She bit back another sob. "But it doesn't seem fair, because…because I think the best way for us to go forward is for you to move forward, and retire. But I'm not ready, and that's not fair to you…" She laid her hand on his chest, on his scar.
"Elsie, shh," he smoothed her hair back. He was relieved. "We've talked about this. We agreed that I would retire first, and that you would stay on until you were ready. It's not a question of fairness." He kissed her head. "I was thinking earlier this week of retirement. I don't want to be apart from you any more than I have to, either," his throat closed up as he lifted her chin with his thumb.
They sat for a long time simply holding each other.
Finally, they made their way to bed after checking on Pepper and Spike.
Elsie lay wrapped in Charles's arms. "When will you tell Robert and John?"
"After Mary has the baby. She's due in the next month, and George was early. I don't want to cause Matthew or Robert any more stress than necessary. I hope you don't mind," he rubbed his hand over his eyes. She turned and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"No. It's best for life to have settled down before you upset the balance of things." She knew it would be a massive transition, both for the firm. And for Charles.
"I'm looking forward to it," he said, resting his hand under his head. "Retirement. Looking after our furry children and grands, visiting Becky more often. Making dinner for you," he nuzzled her neck. "I was thinking about volunteering at one of the local schools, too. Be a tutor, just help out any way I can."
Elsie turned to face him. "You've thought about this a lot."
"Yes," he pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it. "Ever since our honeymoon, really. But it was the trial that really did it. Tom and James were brilliant," he said softly. "They didn't need me, not really. And I found I was all right with that. Well, a little sad," he admitted, "but mostly proud. So proud of them. Of all our attorneys and staff, really. I could never think of retirement if I didn't think they weren't ready."
Tears shone in Elsie's eyes again. "I love you, Charles Carson."
"I love you, Elsie Carson." They kissed once more before he turned out the light.
"I think I'm going to like you being retired," she murmured. "Will you bring me breakfast in bed?"
"Of course," he replied. "You can call me your own private butler."
The bed shook with her laughter.
A/N: It will be awhile before I update this again. Too many other things going on. But don't worry, there's still a lot to happen in this story. I just had to pop in for an update.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I love you all, and will love you with cinnamon rolls on top if you leave a review!
*The song in Pedro's is Selena Quintanilla-Perez (Selena)'s "I Could Fall In Love With You". RIP, Selena - she died on March 31, 1995.
