Chapter 5: Strange(r)
She leaned against the counter with a shaking deep sigh. Truthfully, that man scared her. Well, maybe not the man himself, she actually had found him quite…charming. In an intimidating, Highland Scot warrior kind of way. She shook her head slightly, turning her sign back to Open. She was being silly.
He was appealing though, in that harsh, gritty, dangerous way. His accent, that was something wonderful, it was the voice of her dreams. His voice, she let her mind wonder off like it so often did, his voice was the voice of every anti-hero in her novels, his voice was truly the voice in her dreams, the timbre of her champion. His steely brown eyes were the eyes of every determined reluctant defender. His body cut a sharp, if deceptively unassuming, figure but she was sure there was a hidden strength. His cane was a warrior's scar, it might tarnish his strength and his cunning to some, but to her, it augmented it, it gave him an edge. He was a man who fought. She couldn't help liking that, she couldn't help herself, and she was a romantic. She had known him an hour and she had already written him into a half dozen adventures and in each, the victor.
Maybe that is why most the town thought she was just a little bit strange. She always saw something loveable in those other deemed unlovable, something redeemable in the sinner. Something beautiful in something that everyone else found ugly. She saw more than what was on surface, Belle liked to think she saw beauty in negative spaces. She liked to believe she saw the goodness in everyone…and she did believe everyone, somewhere, even if buried really deep and small and something good in them.
She shrugged absently setting about straightening the random book or two. She did know that he was dangerous. She did know that she was losing her entire life; she wasn't naïve, (well not mostly) and that, more than Mr. Gold scared her to pieces.
She had been taking on all this by choice. She knew that. She knew she was taking on all her father's risky loans and all his back door deals and thought she could handle it…that had been naïve. She had believed so whole-heartedly that she could turn everything around.
Moe's Game of Thorns had never caught on; she sadly knew she could blame the horrible name for only a small bit of that. Rose Arbor Nursery & Florist that the Boyd family owned had always been better and would always better. Moe loved flowers she knew, the rose was his favorite, and it reminded him of her mother but a love of roses did not a business make.
Belle sighed looking around her lovingly, painstakingly put together shop. Hints of roses were everywhere. She had named the shop for her father but had built it for her mother and the thing she and herself loved most. Books.
Rosalie loved roses same as Moe did so they had always reminded her of her mother, and even more so after her death. She closed her eyes softly caressing the rose that was carved into the bookshelf she had been rearranging; their dear family friend and local carpenter Marco Petto had made all the bookshelves for her. He had carved roses in each and every one. She missed her mother so much at times. It was going to be so hard to let this place go. So hard to let the books go. Each book she personally selected, carefully placed. She let her fingers lovingly, lightly run over the spines as she wound her way to furthest back shelves where the oldest books were. They were the books (well some of them, many had been sold) that she had started the shop with. All were older, most of them in some way collectible, some of them worth a good deal of money being that there were first editions and some autographed. A few were by famous Scottish authors. They had been her mother's books.
These books she would buy back. There was no question about that. She hadn't liked parting with any of them; the only thing that eased her sadness and guilt about it was those that had been sold had been to people that would treasure them. Love them. All the people, well save maybe a couple here and there, that came to her shop loved books. Hers wasn't a flashy shop or a shop on the edge of tomorrow with every single latest bestseller. People would drive to the next town if they wanted that. Sure she had most of the bigger hits but those that came to Her Father's Shop came to find a best friend, or a true love…a fairy tale, an adventure tale, a heartbreak to mirror their own, they came to discover a true love not to pick up a glossy one night stand.
She would figure out how to save the rest of shop in due time, yes she would, but for now she squared her shoulders and prepared the Children's Reading Nook for the afternoon pre-school reading. Emma would be coming by soon.
Thinking of her protégé made her smile. Emma was 15; on the cusp of when her fairy tale would begin she liked to think, though Emma would guff if she ever mentioned that. Belle knew though that secretly Emma was a fairy tale believer. How could she not be really? Wasn't her parent's marriage like a fairy tale?
Belle sighed again. Mary Margaret was a few years older than her but she considered her one of her dearest friends and she remembered the whirlwind love story of Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan like it was yesterday. Then again, Belle always did have a soft spot for happy endings.
Emma had come along early in the Nolan marriage, while Mary Margaret was still in college in fact. Everyone talked that they had gotten married because she was pregnant, Belle knew differently and though Emma was delivered almost exactly 9 months after the wedding it wasn't the reason for it. David Nolan had been madly in love with the raven-haired Miss Storybrooke and he didn't want to wait. Mary Margaret had felt the same.
Belle also remembered very well Emma growing up as she had babysat for her constantly, since Mary Margaret was still in college and David was working full time. Emma had quickly latched onto Belle and was her favorite person in the whole world next to her daddy. Belle had worried that maybe once Emma had become a teenager that the book loving, self-assured Emma would disappear into the ghastly world that was 'teenage girl' and no longer would want to hang out with the 'strange Belle French' but she did. Emma allowed no one to talk bad about Miss. Belle, no one.
For one so young Emma was fiercely loyal and protective. Belle was quite proud of the young woman she was becoming. It was also breaking her heart to know that she was going to have to tell Emma about Mr. Gold. If she knew Emma, and she did, Emma was going to be raising cane about it. Not that she blamed her; she would too, if she thought it'd help.
No, what would have helped was if she had never met that blasted Gaston! She shuddered and wished, not for the first or last time that she had listened to Mary Margaret instead of her father. That was done though, no use crying over spilt milk.
The door chiming Emma's arrival distracted her from her brooding.
"Emma!" Belle beamed truly happy as always to see her. She hugged her warmly.
"Hello," Emma, blond hair cascading down her back in curls the wind had tousled to a riot. Belle watched her sling her messenger bag behind the counter along with her knit cap and mittens with a decidedly disgruntled huff.
"You seem out of sorts dear, did something happen?"
"No…yes…kind of." Emma wasn't one to usually mince words, Belle was curious.
"Well I've found the answer to many things is chocolate, we have a few minutes before the tykes will start flooding in. Why don't we break into my secret stash and talk?" Belle was beginning to think she should talk to Archie about becoming a therapist, it seemed she did more talking with people in her store than she did actually selling them books.
Belle pulled out her favorite French chocolate that her father gave her every for Christmas. She knew it cost a fortune and tried to get him to not buy it, neither he nor she, had the budget for those kinds of indulgences. But he continued and she gave up trying to convince him, so it was rationed through the year.
"Okay Emma, spill the beans."
Emma frowned deeply her hazel eyes, so much her mother's eyes, looked sad.
"Well that's just kind of it, I don't have anything much to say! You know we didn't have school today since mama and all the teachers had their fall parent/teacher meetings so I helped dad at the clinic… He got a call to go out Storybrooke Stables one of the mares was foaling and it was turned wrong…" Emma's look drifted off, as she seemed to be recalling the events of the morning in her mind's eye. Belle was familiar with the action, she often found herself doing it as she imagined the stories and characters from her books.
"Well you know that Ms. Milah's son just got back from boarding school…"
Belle fought really hard not to smile, the blush told her what she was already starting to figure out. This was about a boy.
"Oh, did he? I remember him, what was his name? Neal wasn't it? Yes, yes I'm sure that was it. He was such a darling little boy. You two had play dates now and again when you were younger."
Emma turned even brighter pink, "Yeah, Neal, he was 8 when he went to boarding school…"
Belle snorted quietly, she didn't believe in shipping one's child off at such a young and tender age, to a year round boarding school no less! Belle knew Milah mostly by name only, she wasn't a lifelong resident of Storybrooke like most residents, she had shown up with 4-year-old little boy and bought the town stables and the rest was rather history.
"Well…he's kind of…." Poor Emma was almost as red as a tomato.
"Cute?" Belle supplied letting a small smile escape.
"Oh good go…" Emma caught herself, "gracious yes! He's so hot! 17, not muscular strong like a quarterback but… Elegant and lean… He's got the most incredible dark brown eyes and dark hair… His hands are just …wonderful! Oh Belle, he was saddle breaking a filly in the paddock and he's… He's perfect! And Belle do you know what he did?!" Emma was now rambling like she couldn't contain herself and her hands were clutched together, face radiant and blooming.
"What?" Belle's answer was nearly breathy as she shared Emma's excitement. It was positively delightful to be the first person that Emma shared her sure to be first glimpse at the magic of young love. Belle felt honored, but maybe a little guilty too, maybe it should have been Mary Margaret listening instead of her. She brushed the thought off, Emma would talk to her mother and she doubted her excitement would have waned in the slightest by the time she did.
"He winked at me! Honest to goodness winked!"
"No?! Really! You lucky girl," Belle laughed with a genuine smile.
"Yes! But I…oh I could only stand there and gape at him like a fool…a foolish codfish! He tried to talk to me after, when I was in the stalls waiting to see if Dad needed my help and I could barely speak! He must think me the worst, the most idiotic girl ever! I acted like a child!"
"Oh I'm sure you exaggerate my dear. Besides, boys, especially teenage boys aren't terribly observant. He probably thought you were being attractively demure. Young men like girls that are ladies and don't just fall at their feet. You did just fine I'm sure!" Belle reached out and squeezed the younger girls' hands.
"Maybe…Belle can I ask you something?" Emma had turned from blushing at first infatuation to thoughtful in the blink of an eye.
"Of course, you know you can always ask me anything."
Emma looked hesitant, "Does…does it bother you that some people call you…strange? I mean I don't think you are! Not at all! I think you're wonderful, but some people…they say you're old fashioned and you dress old fashioned… You're always reading and you didn't marry that Gaston guy – which I was really glad about, as you know – and you just don't do like anybody else. I mean everyone says you're a really great person what with volunteering at dad's clinic and the animal shelter, and helping the Nuns, and stuff here her for kids…and helping at the school. They say you're wonderful but that you're…" Emma was pinking up again, but this time from embarrassment not giddy.
"Strange? Oh Emma, no it doesn't bother me at all. I mean maybe, when I was younger it did a bit but not anymore. If I've learned anything it's that you've always got to be you. Whatever you are, whatever makes you happy…that's what you've got to be. Nobody else knows you truly, knows what makes you happy – only you know that sweetheart and it's your responsibility to make yourself happy. And people will respect you for it, they might not understand you…and some still will not like you but I promise any man worth your time, your heart will want you to be nothing but you."
Belle joined Emma on the sofa leaving the chair she had been sitting in and put her arm around her. "I know I'm strange to a lot of people, I am…well I'm just Belle and I like my old fashioned skirts and manners, I like helping people and animals. I like reading about everything and I'm good at. We are all born with very special gifts, things that we are good at and things that we give back to the world. If everyone had the same gifts, if everyone say had only white chocolate how boring would that be? I like white chocolate, but I love dark chocolate…and chocolate with hazelnuts…and you know what?" she grinned eyebrows raised.
"What?" Emma was starting to relax.
"Sometimes I like gummy worms and sour gum drops. People are different, that's why the world is interesting. Don't worry about being vanilla darling Emma…be chocolate, or tooti-fruity, or sherbet! Be sherbet!" Belle giggled and Emma was soon laughing with her.
"Don't worry what people think of you, or what they think of me… and this Neal character? I bet he'll just want to make sure he gets to…" Belle suddenly realized there might be a flaw in her analogy and it was her turn to blush.
Emma rolled her eyes and laughed, "I know what you're saying Belle, it's okay. "To thine own self be true". I got it."
Belle chuckled relieved, "Exactly. Now, go pick a book for our little ones, hm?"
So…for reasons I'm still not sure of this chapter was a damn bear to write. It beat me up black and blue and spit in my eye for still unknown reasons and good measure. In conclusion I frankly don't like this chapter all that well. This chapter is like the chapter you write as you're drafting an outline of something…its full little niggling ideas and plot points that actually don't serve the plot at all.
Also I've discovered Belle is hella hard for me write, and I don't know why. This chapter served a lot to try and help me get in the flow.
Additionally…this story is getting bigger than I anticipated as I'm discovering little sub plot bunnies and couples I hadn't at first anticipated writing. I knew this story would be longish…but now it could become a behemoth and I'm not sure y'all are liking too much at the moment so I'm really not sure what to do with all this "stuff" I have…we'll see.
Also I do apologize, the wonderful luna8 has wonderfully agreed to beta for me and she did a most fantastic job with my story Our Tale, Is a Tale as Old Time but she didn't beta this chapter as I was in a hurry to get it out to you guys, but I hope to have cleaner work moving forward! Please bear with me! :)
Thanks for reading and reviews are always so greatly appreciated!