Dance With Me

-J'entends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde-

"Edna." I looked up from my lunch and smiled politely in acknowledgement at the young nurse who peeked her head into the staff room. "Sorry," she said with a wince, noticing as I wiped my mouth with the napkin from my lap. "You're requested in room three."

"It's fine," I said. My break was over anyway. "Who is it?"

Her red lips stretched into a devious smile, and her head lowered a little. Wasn't any secret who it was. Subtlety was not a skill of his. "Who do you think?"

"Again?" I rolled my eyes to distract from the heat rising to my face as she laughed and quickly disappeared from the doorway. I cleared my throat, ignoring the small flutter in my chest as I stood to throw the rest of my ham sandwich away, smooth out the wrinkles of my dress, and return to my shift.

I nodded to passing nurses and doctors in the busy corridor, stopping only for a moment to press a kiss to the cheek of a dear colleague, and she gave me a knowing giggle, pushing me onward toward exam room three. I stopped outside the door, removed the patient file from its cubby, and knocked lightly.

"Professor Murphy," I said as I opened the door, remembering to set my shoulders back and keep my head held high. "I'm beginning to think you're coming here just to see me." I closed the door behind me and shifted my eyes to the waiting man.

His laugh was deep and whole, dark mahogany eyes meeting mine as he shook his head with amusement. "One can never be too sure about their health, Miss Ellsworth," he said knowingly, his voice as rich as melted caramel.

It took me a moment to compose myself, and when I did I averted my gaze, feeling as ridiculous as the young girls who drooled over him in class. Professor Murphy was every romanticist's idea of tall, dark, and handsome, and he quickly made world history every female's favorite subject. He was not ignorant to the effect he had on his students, but not once had I seen him act on it or heard of him taking advantage of his good looks. He was a respectable man, a divorcee who occupied his free time with passion for teaching. A clean-shaven man, dressed to the nines in a stylish grey suit, dark hair slicked to the side…heavens, he was good-looking.

"Three check-ups in a month might be overdoing it a little, Professor –"

"I've told you to call me Patrick."

"Professor," I repeated with a pointed stare. "This is my workplace." He held his gaze unwaveringly against mine, then released a chuckle.

"Maybe it is overdoing it," he finally agreed, and complied when I told him to remove his jacket. "We miss you in class. I miss you."

"You know my funding was cut," I positioned my stethoscope between ears, "besides, I'm needed here. Breathe in." I listened to the rush of strong lungs, steady beat of a healthy heart. It was true. The feds said they'd pay for my schooling, and they made good on their word the first semester. But come time for the new semester the money was gone and my questions were met with unanswered phone calls and unreturned letters. Luckily I'd found a student position in the university infirmary early on in the school year, and had received the permission to continue my work there as a staff employee.

"I brought you something." I stood back and removed the stethoscope from my ears as he searched under his suit jacket. No use for it; he wasn't here for medical reasons. What he produced was a wrapped bar of milk chocolate, my favorite, but attached to it was a strip of paper. A ticket. I took the bar from him and squinted down at the print.

An invitation to the university's annual gala and art auction. They held one every year, at the beginning of the year. I'd never known or seen anything like it, but it was a big deal to everyone here, and excitement was contagious. Virginia's best would be there, I'd heard. University heads, alumni, socialites – powerful donors. Even the governor would be in attendance. "Be my plus one?"

I felt guilty for my blank stare, but I wasn't sure I could've produced much more of a reaction. So many people. Important people. Eyes. Witnesses. "Is that appropriate?" I asked after a minute of silence.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he said confidently. "You are not my student, you are a nurse. And I am a professor in dire need of a beautiful woman on my arm for the night."

I hardly caught his compliment. "You know what I mean." Patrick hesitated for a moment, glancing down. His dark brows furrowed for a brief time, but when his gaze returned to mine, his smile was fresh, and I couldn't help but feel relief.

"I'm sure I've made it very clear how I feel," he said softly. "And I don't give a damn what they think. You're stunning. I can't even imagine what you'll look like Saturday. Come on," he urged. "Let's give them something to gossip about."

I glared at him, but his persistence was so solid it broke through my hard façade, decimating my insecurities. "You're out of your mind," I breathed, allowing him to bring my hand up to his lips for a kiss. His hands were large, fingers thick, but they were soft.

"Maybe a little," he agreed. He took one hand away from its grasp on mine, and lightly brushed over my stomach. I froze, muscles contracting as my breath hitched in my throat. Wasn't right. That wasn't his to touch. "Only a few more months, isn't it?" My lips pressed together tightly, and I gave a small nod, staring just over his head. He released his hold on me and I felt my muscles relax, attempted to return the smile to my face. "I should go," he said. "I'm late for a lecture. Still healthy?"

"As a damn mule," I joked lightly, watching as he stood and snaked his arms back through the suit jacket.

He stooped to kiss my cheek, and my nerves spiked again. Wasn't the first time he'd done that, but it caught me off guard every time. "Dinner tomorrow?" he asked. "I want to know what color you picked for the dress."

"Well that don't give me much time, do it?"

"Darling, you could wear your bathrobe and I'd be proud to have you on my arm. But I'll still need to know the color."

He winked, and I pushed him away with a smile, urging him out the door with the promise to call.

This place was so strange.

The thought came to me as I stopped in front of the display glass of a local boutique. It was home, but it wasn't. The people were kind, but they weren't. The infirmary was challenging, but it was tedious. I had friends who cared deeply for me. I had a good man who continuously surprised me in his slow and steady courtship. I had a lovely place to stay. On paper, it was normal. It was safe. It was everything a woman of my age and status needed. But I could not connect. I was comfortably planted, but I could not take root.

Patrick and I were the same on many levels. Our past lives were something neither of us ever discussed, and neither of us pressed because we both knew it would be devastating. To ourselves; to each other. It had not been an easy journey to have our world destroyed and come out alive. Patrick found hope in his teaching. I found hope in what God had in store for me. When we found each other, alone and lost in the world, the warmth of comfort and union was something we could not seem to do without. He eased the pain of my losses, and this transition into a new life. I only hoped I was doing the same for him.

The dress in front of me was thin-strapped with a plunging neckline. The back sagged elegantly, and the smooth white fabric folded into a fitting form around the waist. It was designed to accentuate the best assets in a woman. I would have to have it altered to fit me, but it was so beautiful, and I wanted to be beautiful.

I imagined myself walking up the steps to the University's ballroom, shimmering under the warm glow of its grand chandeliers. The sweet melodies of the house band would flow through the open doors and I would smile up at Patrick, excited to mingle, and meander, and dance all night, feeling like a queen among her court. Damn them all, and what they might say about me. Patrick didn't care, so I wouldn't.

"Edna."

My brow furrowed, brain confused by familiarity of the sound it had just registered. It couldn't be. My ears had to have been mistaken. My gaze remained on the dress, but when I refocused it to take in the reflection on the glass, it took all my strength to remain conscious.

It wasn't real, the tall figure looming behind me. The piercing blue eyes, the sharp nose, the thin lips. I was still daydreaming. "Edna." I closed my eyes and willed the creature of my dreams to stop speaking before I lost my grip on reality. "Edie, it's me. It's Howard."

I almost felt offended by his need to identify himself. Did he think that I could forget them so easily. Forget him. What was he doing here? Six months couldn't have been enough time. He'd get in trouble if they knew he was here. I tried hard to steady my breaths, though my heart thumped wildly, and placed a hand on my stomach to calm a wave of nausea.

"Edie, something happened a few weeks ago," he said, voice hurried with excitement. "All that shit before – they called it off. They don't need none of us to testify. I don't really know much o' the details. Forrest could tell ya – he's here, Edie. He's waitin'."

I turned around so quickly I had to place a hand against the glass to steady myself. "What?" my voice was hollow, unamused. This was a cruel dream.

"Yeah! Just down the street…" Howard trailed off, confused by my blank stare. "You all right?"

"Am I dreamin?" my voice was weak. I leaned further against the glass as it became real hard to breathe.

"No!" Howard bent his head to level with my eyes and gave an amused smile. "It's the truth. We come to get ya, Edie, me and Forrest. I…see, I knew you been fuckin' my brother!" I brought both hands to my belly and looked up at him in alarm. I was going to have a heart attack. This was too much. I was going to die right there.

"This is real?"

"It's real," he confirmed with a nod. "So's that," he motioned to my stomach. "Goddamn Edna, how long were you gonna keep that from him?"

"I don't know," I whispered. This was real. Howard was here. Forrest was here.

"Well," Howard straightened up and turned his head to look down the length of the street. "Don't rightly matter now. C'mon. Forrest can't walk right yet or he'd be here, but he didn't want to wait any longer. You know how he is."

I followed Howard in a daze. It was over. Or so they were saying. Why hadn't I heard anything? How long had it been since they'd gotten the news? I didn't have to testify. It was all for nothing. Six months away, six months of staying strong and working hard to distance myself from all that pain, and now I had Howard telling me it's all done. That they'd found another way when they had me so convinced it was impossible to do.

Six months, and now I was seconds away from standing in front of Forrest again. Something I'd dreamed about almost every night, regardless of how hard I'd tried to hide it from my new life. Months of fitting, crying, fighting for life against the pain of losing him, and now he'd come back for me.

It should have been one of the happiest moments of my life. I was terrified to the core.

The TT had been parked a ways down the street. I stopped in my tracks when it finally came into sight. "I can't do this," I breathed, grasping my belly as I sucked in a large breath of cold air.

"Sure you can." Howard urged me onward but I shrugged him off.

"You don't think he's gonna be mad?" I squinted up at him against the setting sun. "I didn't know how to tell him, I…I didn't want to get y'all in trouble."

Howard turned his head and shrugged as he looked down the road again. "Hard to say. But we didn't come here for nothin', and that's gotta mean somethin'. Doubt it'll change anything. It is his, right?"

"Howard!" I barked, as he snorted.

"Had to ask. One more thing – Forrest is hoping to take you home. We know it's been awhile, lots has changed, but…"

Howard trailed off, seeming to have lost his thought. But I knew what he was getting at, making sure I still wanted this. Wanted Forrest. Still yearned for Franklin County, and a future there, to become a part of the Bondurant family.

I thought of my life here. Of my small flat above a diner and the kind owners who rented it to me. Of the University infirmary, with its bright lights and linoleum floors, brilliant physicians and state-of-the-art machinery. Of my friends – sweet girls I met through study, though much younger than me and on a journey of their own toward greater things. Of Patrick – sweet Patrick, who was never my sole reason to carry on through the darkness, but certainly one to look forward to what the future had in store.

Could I leave it all behind? Just like that. Release myself from this place and drift like seaweed back to the home I thought I'd never build. I could not root in Charlottesville. I was not made to live and die here. My heart remained in Franklin. It always had. It always would. Especially now, with a little one on the way. Not once had I ever believed, deep down, that it wouldn't ever meet its daddy. That it wouldn't know the touch of his hands as he cradled its head, or the sound of his voice as he whispered goodnight.

I'd tried hard to convince myself that a life without Forrest could be possible. It wasn't.

"Let's go," I finally said, pushing past Howard with a newfound courage.

The door of the truck opened, and I strode onward, panic and excitement rushing through my veins with icy-hot speed. He'd seen me, he knew I was coming for him. He was here. A thick, hulking body stumbled out, gripping the door, making the truck rock, and Howard shouted after him. I remembered then, that Forrest was still healing. Howard said he still couldn't walk right, wasn't strong enough.

"Forrest," I called to him, my voice bouncing in my chest as I broke into a jog. "Forrest, sit down!"

He didn't listen. Meters away, I watched him slide out from behind the door, slam it closed, and fall against it. His torso heaved with the efforts of his movements, knees buckling under his own weight. He pushed himself off the door, pivoted, and looked up at me from under the brim of his hat.

There was no touch, no rush to kiss, no exclamation – not even a smile. But I knew better than that. His pewter blue eyes pierced me so deeply it drew glossy tears. I refused to let them fall. "It's over?" I asked him. Howard had said so, but only Forrest's confirmation could make it truly real.

"Yeah," he said, shifting to lean more comfortably against the door.

The breath was taken from me at his gravelly response, and I broke our gaze to look at the ground, where I might find some composure. When I looked up again, his gaze, too, had averted, lower, to our shared secret that was secret no longer. His lips parted and his brow furrowed, and after a moment he pushed himself into a standing position. His hand raised a fraction, fingers twitching, and his eyes darkened with question. "Seven months," I said, then willed myself to inhale deeply as I had forgotten to breathe. "I'm sorry."

Forrest raised his chin, eyes searching directly behind me for a few seconds. Then he dropped his gaze back down to my face, my nose, my cheeks, my lips, my eyes. He shook his head. "Don't be sorry."

The softness in his tone broke the levees, and I brought my hand to my mouth to silence a sob of relief. His words washed away all worry, all doubt. The past six months were nothing to this moment right here. This was right. This was real. I was whole again.

"Come home," he said.

I didn't look back.


"I hear your voice in all the world's noise." - Paul Eluard

Holy shit, it's an update! I have no excuses, but god it feels good to be back. This is not my best work, but try to give me a little break, I've been out of the game for almost a year ;)

Depending on the response from you guys towards this update, I may extend this story a few more chapters, just to see how Edna and Forrest adapt to their new life with a little one. But we'll see what you guys have to say. Can't wait! :)