A/N: Wow, again you guys! All these reviews I get! They warm the cockles of my heart! (Especially that one about making your husband laugh. That boosted my ego quite a bit!)
I'm sorry I don't give all you reviewers a special reply of thanks, but I don't actually know how . . . haha. If someone could let me know, that'd be nice.
Now, I won't be getting updates out as fast as I am come this Monday, I am back to school after a long and relaxing semester break. I'll try to get them out as much as I can. (Plus, my little sister is a bit of a computer hog . . .)
Okay, I need to stop talking now.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Just the Walling family.
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Chapter Three: Day One - The Walling's House
Esme, unlike Linda, gracefully exited the plane. She effortlessly flowed through the Atlanta airport, weaving through the many people gathered, to obtain the many suitcases Alice had packed for her. They were all very large and all matched.
When she had all eight of her bags piled in a neat pyramid, she, like Linda, waited to be found. She passed the time thinking about her family. Wondering how they were doing. Was the new mother a nice person? Was she treating them well? Were they treating her well?
A tall, lanky man walking towards her pulled her attention away from her many thoughts. The man had scraggly brown hair that needed a good cut, a beige, collard shirt that was tucked into a pair of old jeans, which ended about two inches above his old, brown loafers. And on his face, was a nice pair of large, grandfather glasses.
"Hello?" he said in a timid voice. Jim was unsure of what he was supposed to do. He knew he was looking for a woman, but that didn't really narrow it down too much.
Jim was not an outgoing person. He preferred to have quiet nights at home building model planes than go out and meet people. And this task of finding a woman he knew nothing about was especially hard. He used logic to solve the problem he was presented with, that way he would have to talk to less people.
He knew that if he was not informed of the woman's appearance, she would not be informed of his. All he had to do was look for the person who looked lost.
To find this woman, who would look lost, he decided the most efficient way would be to stand on one of the benches. He searched the crowd, while receiving many strange looks, and found a woman with brown hair, standing beside a massive pile of luggage, looking like she didn't know what to do next. He decided to start there.
Upon hearing the quiet greeting, Esme smiled and answered.
"Yes?"
"I think you may be my new wife." Jim said just as quiet and unsure as before. He really hoped she was the one he was looking for, or it would sound like he used a really terrible pick up line. She was a beautiful woman, maybe she was used to such things.
Esme could see that the poor man standing in front of her was terribly stressed. She was already starting to like this man, and didn't want to see him worry that he may have offended her.
"I'm Esme, pleased to meet you." She smiled, hoping to relax him a little bit.
Jim exhaled, happy that he was not mistaken.
"Jim," he said while shaking Esme's hand.
"Do you . . . need some help with that?" He asked. This woman did not travel light.
Esme smiled. She could easily carry all the bags, but what would it look like if she balanced them all on one palm?
"That would be nice, thank you."
Jim picked up five of the eight bags. Stacking some of the smaller ones on the larger ones. They were heavier than he expected. Whoever packed these really put in as much as the bags could hold. The zippers were practically bursting.
It was a long walk to the car. Jim hadn't been able to get a parking spot very close, actually he was parked in row Y, and he could hardly feel his arms. But he trudged on, not wanting a lady to have to carry the majority.
The walk to the car was silent. Esme just followed Jim as he very gentlemanly carried most of the bags. It was about seven minutes of walking later that they reached an old, rusted, navy blue van. It looked like it was at least fifteen years old, and was missing large patches of paint. There was a big dent in the bumper.
Jim loaded the eight bags into the back of the van and climbed in the drivers seat. Esme followed suit. The interior of the van was tan and stained. A musty smell clung to the upholstery and there were large holes scattered around the seats, a few even had rusty springs sticking out.
"What do you do for a living?" Esme asked to break the silence.
"I work in a warehouse. For a paper company. How about you, what do you do?"
"I stay at home most of the time. But I really enjoy architecture and interior design, I like to have a few household projects going to keep me busy."
"Really, wow. That sounds very interesting."
"What do you do in your free time? I'm sure you don't just sit around wishing you were moving crates of paper."
Jim gave a small laugh at that, which was rare for him and answered.
"I like to build model planes. I . . . I'd like own my own model shop. I'd call it . . . Planes and Things. Or something like that."
"That's nice."
The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. Esme could tell Jim was done sharing for the time being.
The van pulled into the driveway of a small, blue house. It looked like it was fairly old, most likely build some time around 1960. The door was white, with a few paint chips missing and the railing lining the stairs was leaning to the side at an unhealthy angle. This house was mess, to say the least, and Esme couldn't be more excited.
Jim stepped out of the car and, for the first time since Esme had met him, raised his voice past a whisper.
"Andy! Sandra!" He shouted so loud it made Esme jump, "come help with the bags!"
The old white door opened to reveal two children. The first, a boy about seventeen, was rather tall, like his father, but more muscular. He wore a fitted, grey hoodie and jeans that appeared to be about as low as his knees. His dark brown hair was falling in his eyes. The second was a girl, about fifteen years old. Her hair, which was a mix between her father's brown hair and her mother's sandy blonde, was tied back into a ponytail. She was wearing a pair of thick rimmed, dark brown glasses, a blue sweater and a pair of jeans.
The pair apathetically walked down the three stairs leading to the house, down the driveway to the back of the car. They wordlessly grabbed two bags each and returned to the house.
Esme thought she heard Jim quietly mumble "lazy kids," before grabbing the remaining four bags himself.
Jim lead Esme down the short, main hallway to a small room with one twin bed. The room was very cluttered, the bed and the small dresser took up about three quarters of the total space. The bed and the walls were covered in a generic flower print from 1975.
"This is your room, make yourself at home. I'll . . . leave you to unpack." Jim muttered before quietly exiting the room.
Esme smiled to herself as she was unpacking. There was so much she could do with this house! Even just a coat of paint and new bed sheets would do wonders for this room.
This would be a very exciting week, if she had anything to do with it.
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A/N: Alrighty, well that's you're first look into the Walling family.
I hope you enjoyed it.
Drop me a line and tell me if you did or not. Give me some constructive criticism, or just tell me what you think.
Your reviews really mean a lot to me.
