Reaver's Servants
Goodbye, Lakeview Manor
The view from the top of the stairs wasn't as grand as Reaver had remembered it. When he first had Lakeview Manor built, he had made sure that every spot had a good view. The landing at the top of the stairs, he had often found, had a particularly wonderful view of the foyer and the front doors. From this landing he could see who had arrived, whether or not the servants were actually working, or how clean the marble tile floors were. His voice echoed nicely from this vantage point and the echoes carried his orders to his servants much better than screaming.
But today, Reaver found, this view did nothing for him. But it wasn't the view itself, it was what he was viewing. On the foyer floor, there were boxes with labels on each one to tell the mover which goes where at its new destination. The destination, of course, was in a sleepy mountain town called Brightwall. Where it was going exactly in the sleepy mountain town was debatable. From what most found out, if they had bothered to ask, most of the boxes were going into storage until a permanent home could be found. Luckily, no one bothered to ask.
The wedding between Barry Hatch and Miss Sarah had ended over a month ago but it was still in Reaver's mind as if it had happened last week. The decorations were taken down, the food had been divided up and taken home with guests, and Reaver felt the house empty out like a bag of grain with a hole in the bottom. The garden had been rearranged to its form before the wedding and if one looked closely, they'd doubt there had been a wedding at all.
Despite the wedding being between two servants, it was the talk of Millfields and Bowerstone for the longest time. Though Reaver had hoped for that outcome, he wasn't prepared for the fallout. He wasn't prepared to lose the best cook and the best assistant he'd had in years. That is why Reaver did not care for the view from the landing today. The boxes meant two people were leaving his employ and even more miraculous, they were leaving alive.
Of course, Reaver wasn't the only somber party in Lakeview Manor. Plans were being made all around him and he had no say in it. Though it came as news to him after Barry and Miss Sarah had left, Reaver had a feeling that things were changing again. Not only was he losing his assistant and cook, but he found out he was losing the rest of his staff as well.
Beryl had been appointed representative since the letter came for her. The others only saw it as fair that she break the news to Reaver. The night that Reaver had received his answer from Rosie, which sat in the mesh trash can by his desk in his office, Beryl informed Reaver of the letter she had received.
Dear Beryl,
Hello from the vineyard! I know you're assuming we are writing to ask you to visit us. While that would be nice, Gran and I are writing because we have come to a decision. This Vineyard and Winery has been in the family for generations. Your great-great-grandparents built this farm from nothing into a thriving business that has continued for years. However, Gran and I aren't as young as we used to be and the years have not been kind to us health wise. We have decided to retire and since you were to inherit the vineyard anyway, we're giving it to you, Beryl dear. That's right, the entire vineyard and winery is yours. All you have to do is come by and we'll sign everything over.
The other reason we are writing is because your sisters don't seem to share our enthusiasm with this plan. Fiona and Fiore insisted, since they stayed when you left to seek your calling elsewhere, that they should get the farm. If either of them had done any real work in your absence, maybe they would have been considered. But you are the oldest and it would have gone to you anyway. Those twins couldn't run down the road to get sugar let alone run a farm.
Beryl, I know life has been tough since your parents died. Gran and I both knew you'd set out when you were old enough. You have too much of your father in you. When your father first came to work on our farm after his circus went under, we didn't know what to make of him. We miss both of your parents very much and we miss you as well. It's time to come home, Beryl. We await your reply.
~Love, Gran and Gramps
That was the letter Beryl let Reaver read. When she told him that she was leaving to take over the vineyard and that Willa and Gordon were coming with her, Reaver only mumbled that he didn't know Beryl had two younger sisters that were twins. He then crumbled the letter into a little ball and tossed it at her. It had hit her softly in the middle of her forehead.
Now, he was losing all of his servants. He didn't have to fire (or murder) anyone. Soon, his house would be empty again. There was a stack of applications for a new personal assistant sitting on his desk that hadn't been touched and he was set for interviews with new staff that afternoon. Reaver wondered about the order in which his servants would leave.
Barry and Miss Sarah had returned from their honeymoon a few days before and everyone was so happy to see the newlyweds. Mostly everyone, anyway. Reaver ignored them unless there was something that needed to be done.
The agreement, which had been made before the wedding, was that Barry hire replacements before leaving. Reaver always put Barry in charge of tasks he thought were menial. Hire new servants being one of them. Barry felt no real need to do this, as he suddenly felt no real connection to Lakeview Manor anymore. While Barry was busy doing that, Miss Sarah saw fit to pack up their things. She had started right after she brought Reaver his lunch. He didn't say anything to her when she presented the delicious salad with homemade dressing on his desk next to the untouched applications.
Despite her and Barry being the first scheduled to leave, Miss Sarah and Barry were the last ones to pack up their belongings from Lakeview Manor. She was excited, but nervous. She knew in the morning, after sending their luggage ahead, she and Barry would be on the train to the mountains where Barry's mother would be waiting for them. Miss Sarah spent a long time packing up her room in the servant's quarters, going through every item that brought back a memory.
Everyone was busy doing something or another. Willa and Beryl, while cleaning, discussed different ways they would run the vineyard. While Beryl was stuck in the business end of it, Willa was stuck in something a little deeper. Willa was excited about being with her father again. Beryl offered him a job at the vineyard and Olaf the Strongman readily accepted. If it meant being near Willa and a steady pay, then Olaf was ready for anything. At the moment, Olaf was a semi-permanent resident at the pub in Bowerstone and the tavern owner was eager to see him leave.
Despite Reaver's objections, Olaf was also at the manor during much of the day. He'd sit his dusty jacket on a marble bench and brush off his dirty pants before sitting down and wait for Willa to be done with her chores. Reaver agreed to let Olaf hang around, but only outside. He'd made that rule after Olaf came into the manor a few days after the wedding trailing mud on his clean floors. Reaver didn't like Olaf dirtying up his property, but he also didn't like the idea of his head being squished under the man's massive hands.
On this day, of all days, Olaf was once again in the garden. He was keeping company with Gordon until Willa came out. Gordon had nothing to say lately, despite how close he and Olaf were when they worked together in the circus. Gordon wasn't doing impressive acrobatics lately, either.
"Gordon, not so light on feet anymore?" Olaf asked, holding a letter in his hand. Gordon didn't answer. "Leaving can be sad, but life outside gilded cage can be nice. Beryl is putting you in charge of keeping plants from dying, good money in that."
"I'm not worried about the money, I have no doubt Beryl will pay us fairly." Gordon mumbled, stepping down from a trellis. "I'm worried about the others."
"Liar." Olaf laughed. "You're worried about Rosie."
Gordon sighed and put his clippers down. "Rosie and I have been friends for years. I accepted a long time ago that we would probably never be anything more than just that. That doesn't mean I don't care about her. Beryl offered her a job at the vineyard but she refused. Said she was leaving on some kind of 'spiritual journey' or some such nonsense." Gordon picked up his clippers again and started working on another bush.
"Spiritual journey is not nonsense. It makes sense to Rosie, so let her. Rosie is not like us, Gordy. Driven by spirits of old world. Rosie is not like other women. Rosie walks path that only she can see. As seer, it is her lot in life. Rosie has much on her mind. When she is ready, her stone will stop rolling and she'll stop somewhere. Rosie is smart woman. She make one lucky man a good wife someday."
Gordon chuckled. "Yeah, some lucky sap is going to get more than he bargained for with her."
Olaf laughed as the garden gate opened. Willa and Beryl, done with their daily chores, walked toward the two men as Gordon put down his clippers again. "Daddy!" Willa shouted, running to Olaf. Olaf stood up and held his arms out to catch his daughter. She tackled him and he fell with a loud "Oof!" to the ground. The letter he was holding fell to Beryl's feet, though she didn't notice right away.
"Everything is set." said Beryl, as Olaf and Willa got off the ground. "On Miss Sarah's advice, we sent everything ahead all our heavy luggage. If we hire a carriage, we should be at the farm in two days with our luggage waiting for us upon arrival. My grandparents are going to sign over everything to me when we arrive and then they are leaving for…wherever they decided to retire to." Beryl shrugged and giggled as Olaf and Willa walked up to her.
Olaf sighed happily. "Beryl, thank you for offering me job."
"No sweat, Olaf." Beryl readjusted her glasses a bit before taking them off and wiping them off on her apron. She put them back on. "I'll need someone to keep an eye on those two troublemakers I call sisters. I can't tell you how much trouble they've caused my poor grandparents over the years. Probably why they are taking an early retirement. It won't hurt to have someone who can lift a cart full of bricks over his head with little effort working around the farm, either."
"Only bricks? You're getting old, Olaf." said a voice from the direction of the garden gate. Everyone looked up and saw Rosie walking toward them. "I remember when your caravan got stuck in the mud, you lifted it out and carried it to dry ground." Rosie had an odd chuckle, but it was refreshing to the others to see her smile for once.
Olaf stretched his arms out. "Not so old I can't lift you off ground, Rosie." He laughed. "Come to join discussion?"
Rosie shook her head. "I actually came back here to find Beryl. Mr. Hatch is busy with interviews so I answered the door. Beryl has visitors."
Beryl blinked. "Visitors?" she looked around. "I didn't invite anyone here. Everyone I know knows we're leaving soon." Beryl started for the garden, unknowingly kicking Olaf's letter toward Willa.
Noticing is for the first time, Willa bent over and picked up the letter. "Daddy, did you drop this?" she asked, examining the postmark on the edge of the envelope. It was addressed to Olaf (staying at the Cock in the Crown) and the postmark was from Brightwall. Willa almost immediately recognized the handwriting. "Daddy, have you been exchanging letters with Mrs. Hatch?" she asked, wide-eyed.
His big stubbly cheeks blushing, Olaf took the letter back and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "We met at wedding, remember? We've been corresponding, yes. Nice lady…"
"Are those lipstick marks on the…" Gordon didn't finish his sentence. Olaf turned and left the garden before anyone could ask anything else.
Willa huffed. "If Mr. Hatch ends up being my step-brother, I'm going to be very mad." She mumbled, folding her arms over her chest.
At the front of the house, Beryl saw two familiar figures standing before the big door. She hated what she saw, because she knew it could only be two people. Same height, some skin tone, and the same look that said "we're here to screw things up".
Fiona and Fiore were twins and Beryl's younger sisters. The two had mousy brown hair and freckles on their cheeks just under their eyes just like Beryl. They often finished each other's sentences and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. They were never too far from each other and they were always in trouble at the same time as well. Their sister, or anyone acquainted with them for that matter, didn't think highly of the two and was pretty sure they shared one single brain between the two of them. Fiona was the headstrong one and Fiore was the clever one, meaning Fiore came up with the bad ideas so Fiona could implement them.
"What are you two doing here?" Beryl asked, not actually wanting to know.
"Is that anyone to greet your baby sisters?" asked Fiona. Fiona wore a pink hair band in her hair.
"We were hoping for a better reception." said Fiore. Fiore wore a green hair band in her hair.
"When Gran and Gramps told us you left that circus…" Fiona started.
"We actually got quite worried about you." Fiore finished. "Imagine how relieved we were to find out you and your friends got jobs again. However, we never imagined you…"
"…and don't take this the wrong, dear sister; we never imagined you as a maid for the dreadful Reaver of Reaver Industries!" Fiona shouted.
"Of all the places you could have gotten work…" Fiore was stopped by Beryl's hand. A silent move telling the two to shut up before they went off on a tangent.
Beryl sighed. "I don't have time to babysit you two. I have a lot to do before I leave tomorrow. If you want entertainment, go to the pub." Beryl started walking past the two, as if they were solicitors trying to sell her something she didn't need. Of course, Beryl stopped for a moment and turned to the two. "How did you two get here, anyway? I was under the understanding that you two would still be at the vineyard looking for excuses not to work."
Fiona and Fiore shared the same nervous giggle. "Well, that's the thing." said Fiona, wringing her hands. "Gram and Gramps might have…sort of…"
"…kicked us out." Fiore finished.
Beryl didn't look surprised. She was wondering what had finally made her grandparents snap. "They finally threw you two out on the streets, hmm? All that shoddy work you did around the vineyard finally caught up with you two. How long did you think Gran and Gramps were going to let all that slide?" she asked. "I guess you'll have to find somewhere else to be useless. If you think I'm going to let you stay at the farm and get away with terrible work ethic, you're mistaken."
Both sisters looked at their sister nervously. "No, no, Gran and Gramps made it quite clear that if we ever returned to that farm, they'd set it ablaze whether it belonged to them or not. We're not above hard work, but farm work is so thankless." Fiona remarked.
"We are more than willing to work for our wages. But the thing of it is, we've burned through the last of what Gran and Gramps gave us just by getting here. We're staying at the pub right now, but we're almost out of money." Fiore retorted.
Beryl sighed and crossed her arms. "I guess it's up to big sister to clean up another one of your messes. It so happens I know where you can get some jobs and room and board as well." Beryl walked toward the front of the house. "Let me talk to someone and I'll send for you two later."
Inside the manor, the only sound that could be heard were the soft grunts of a woman trying to fit a lot of things into one little suitcase. Miss Sarah had some time to herself before she was due to make dinner, so she was packing up her room. She remembered when she and the others first came to Lakeview Manor. The rooms, though small, still became home to them. When she had arrived, Miss Sarah's room was just a bed, a night stand, and a closet. Now, it was decorated with pictures, little nick-knacks, and smelled like sweet pea flowers. The other rooms were like this, too. In the course of a year and a half, the dank rooms looked as if its inhabitants had been there for much longer.
The days had passed by so quickly. It felt like yesterday that the would-be servants were standing in front of the big manor doors, hoping the jobs were still available. As she smiled at this memory, Miss Sarah reached under her bed and found her old steamer trunk. After they had settled in, Reaver was nice enough to have the servant's things sent for. He took it out of their pay, though. She opened her steamer trunk on a whim, and smiled at its contents.
The clothes she had made them after they left the circus were in there. After their second pay allowed them to buy new clothes, the servants requested that Miss Sarah do away with the ugly outfits. Even she admitted that the clothes she had made from old circus tents and old costumes were atrocious. She made a note to throw them out when she put them in the steamer trunk. Miss Sarah had forgotten about them until just now. She took out the dress that was hers, made from her old magician's assistant outfit and the magician's cape she swiped the night they left.
Memories poured into Miss Sarah's mind as she picked up each garment and sniffed it. It smelled just like the inn they were staying at before they came to live at the mansion. Memories of light dinners, thin sheets, trying to keep warm in the drafty rooms, and each one hoping the next day would yield something better.
Miss Sarah carefully placed the outfits back in the steamer trunk. She hadn't decided if she was going to throw them out or not. The contents of her nightstand drawer, however, were definitely not being thrown away. These items were too precious to her. Miss Sarah opened the drawer and took out a small box. Inside the box was a collection of papers and other odds and ends that she felt were special. On top was the very flyer that led them to Lakeview Manor, and in turn led her to Barry.
"To anyone interested:
Reaver of Reaver Industries will be holding interviews for jobs in and around his home by Bower Lake.
In need are the following positions: maids, butlers, grounds keepers, chefs.
No experience needed, but recommended.
If hired, employees will be paid generously and provided with room and board.
Please see Barry Hatch at Lakeview Manor in Millfields for more details.
Be advised: Those not hired may be shot."
The flyer by now was wrinkled and the lettering had faded a bit. Miss Sarah straightened a corner and smiled softly. She placed the flyer back in the box and removed the rest of the nightstand's contents for packing. She hoped to have the rest of her room cleared out before the evening. She was going to start preparing for dinner soon.
All the other servants knew Rosie had been avoiding Reaver. Her choice was simple, yet plain as day. Her decision sat in the wastepaper basket by Reaver's desk. Reaver hadn't moved it since the wedding. It sat there, almost mocking him. She told him no, without actually having to say it. It was cowardly, but Reaver respected her originality.
When it came to Rosie, no one actually knew what was going on in her mind. Most people were too scared to think about it. Her expression seemed vapid and her eyes were blank. The others noted that she often took this look when reading someone's fortune. Reaver had begun to wonder how many futures she could actually see. If the future could be changed, can she see the new future? Which future was the one he wanted?
He found himself asking the question most of the day. As lunch was eaten and things were packed, Reaver asked himself about what his future truly held. He decide to let Barry conduct the interviews for a new personal assistant because his mind was elsewhere. If anyone could hire his replacement, it'd be Barry himself.
By now, Reaver believed he knew more about Rosie than he had ever hoped to learn about a maid. After a year of Rosie keeping hush about her life, Reaver now knew why she did so. Reaver would be sitting in his office at this point while thinking about it. All he did recently was think about things.
Barry found this to be inconveniencing. He still had a lot of packing to do and if this kept up, he and Miss Sarah were going to be the last ones to leave. He was starting to think that's what Reaver was really going for. After Barry had conducted the last interview with an applicant, Barry found himself being approached by Beryl. She twisted the feather duster in her hand and looked at him nervously. "Mr. Hatch?" she mumbled, softly.
"What's wrong, Beryl?" Barry asked.
Beryl tried not to giggle at Barry's speech impediment. It was something she had tried to fight since she began working with him. But hearing him say "What's wong, Bear-wool" made her laugh softly. Miss Sarah and the others often said they no longer noticed it, but Beryl couldn't say the same. Hearing him say things like "Sar-wah" and "Woe-zee" and "Mastah Weavah" and even saying her name as best he could were too much for Beryl and she'd sometimes have to run off to laugh in private.
"Nothing is wrong, Mr. Hatch." Beryl had to stop herself from imitating his impediment when saying "wong" instead of "wrong". It's something she caught herself doing many times. She readjusted her glasses and spoke clearly. "I was just wondering if you've hired the new servants yet."
Barry smiled and brushed his hair back with his fingers. "A few, and I still have an interview left for my replacement. Why do you ask? Having second thoughts about leaving?"
Beryl shook her head. "No, not at all. I'm all set to leave tomorrow afternoon if the weather is right. I was asking because I heard from my sisters today. My grandparents finally kicked them out and they need jobs. They're in Bowerstone, staying at the pub. Probably about to get kicked out if I know them as well as I think I do."
Barry remembered that Beryl had two sisters that she rarely talked about. The way she explained their behavior and personalities, Barry couldn't blame her. A pair of twins named Fiona and Fiore were Beryl's younger sisters. Between the two of them, they shared one brain.
"What qualifies them to work for Reaver?" Barry asked.
"They are twins, they have perfect 20/20 vision, and actively look for trouble." Beryl answered dryly.
"They're hired." said Barry, taking out his clipboard and scribbling something down. "If you see them tonight, tell them to come by Lakeview Manor for a proper interview."
Beryl nodded happily and scampered off to finish her chores. By the light coming in from the windows in the foyer, Barry could tell it was already early evening. He hoped by this time tomorrow, he and Miss Sarah would be arriving at the Brightwall station. Barry would be lying if he said he wasn't going to miss the way the sun set over Bower Lake. It was a beautiful view of the cool waters too cold for children to swim in now. The autumn leaves were falling and now resting on the still waters. Barry was going to miss it. He wasn't about to lie about that.
Dinner was silent that night. Reaver took his dinner in his office, not wanting to face his servants. Reaver barely touched the rosemary chicken Miss Sarah had made. He imagined the servants were sitting at the little table in the corner of the kitchen and celebrating at that moment. Their last night with him, as his servants, and they were celebrating. He lingered in his office for a little while longer.
In the kitchen, all the servants sat around the little table and sharing their last meal together. Barry, who usually ate with Reaver, sat next to Miss Sarah with his arm around her. He had just got finished telling Beryl that her sisters didn't look like they could hold a mop, but figured some time working for Reaver would whip them into shape. Rosie was silent, but her smile indicated that she was indeed enjoying the celebration going on.
Gordon stood up, his drink in his hand, and quieted the group down. "I remember when we arrived a year and a half ago." He started, holding his bottle of beer tightly. "Penniless, hungry, wearing sewn together costumes and tent pieces, and eager to do any kind of work. I know I've complained a lot about this job in the past, but I think this has got to be the best job I've ever had!"
"Here, here!" shouted Beryl, holding up her bottle.
Miss Sarah stood up while trying to hold her hiccups down. "I'm glad we were able to stay together." Miss Sarah whimpered. "I'm grateful every day that we got these jobs, but now it feels so sad to be leaving it all behind!" Miss Sarah sat down and Barry patted her back.
Willa stood up next. "Without Mr. Reaver, I fear what would have happened to us. Separated, alone, and with not a gold piece to call our own. Now, we're all about to head out into a new future. I don't think even Rosie could have seen this." Willa chuckled, pointing her bottle at Rosie.
Rosie still said nothing. Everyone chuckled. "It doesn't take a seer to see you all go together that nuts in a fruit salad." Barry laughed, the drink already starting to get to him. "I hope you all will visit Sarah and me in Brightwall as often as you can. I wouldn't dream of keeping you lot apart."
Some laughter, some more conversation, and then silence. Each of the servants reflected on the past year and a half and looked around. It might have been that moment they all realized that, in the morning, they wouldn't be piled into the kitchen eating breakfast before they started their chores. Miss Sarah wouldn't be humming a happy tune and the smell of delicious breakfast wouldn't be wafting through the spacious manor.
It was Miss Sarah, who stood up first. "To Mr. Reaver, for giving us these jobs." She said, tearfully. The statement sounded familiar to them. Each servant, including Barry and Rosie, held up their respective drink and nodded to the toast.
"To Reaver…" they all said before downing their drinks.
Reaver was still in his office as this toast took place. He didn't hear them salute him for what could be passed off as generosity if one knew Reaver well enough. He heard the footsteps of the servants finishing their last night time rituals. He heard Barry's clopping footsteps finishing up the interviews with two new maids he'd mentioned before. Reaver listened to Miss Sarah's tip-tap like steps made their way to Barry's room and eventually, so did Barry.
In the morning, they would all be gone. Why did Reaver have this odd pain in his chest? He hated how this was making him feel. He grabbed his chest and stared out the window. The lights along the lake were going out as the residents of Millfields snuggled into bed. There was one light, however, that Reaver noticed near the dock. It moved in the wind and it called to him. Reaver, forgetting his jacket, left the office and ran toward the front doors.
Reaver swung open the doors and ran to the first stone step toward the docks. Why he was doing this, he didn't know. It felt as if the spirits themselves were guiding him. The wind led the way and the spirits lit the path and directed him to what he believed was his destiny.
Rosie stood at the end of the dock, staring into the water. The water held no answers for her. She didn't invite Reaver outside to join her, but she still turned around as if expecting him. "I won't be here tomorrow to say good-bye." Rosie mumbled, as Reaver noticed her bags by the first pylon of the dock. "I'm leaving soon."
"Leaving?" Reaver asked, as if actually surprised.
Rosie nodded. "I can't be here to say good-bye to my friends. So, I said it to them earlier at dinner. My boat leaves in a few hours. I've decided not to buy a caravan. I'm heading to Aurora."
"Why would you want to go there?" Reaver asked. "It's a desert. It's filthy. You don't belong there."
"And where is it I belong?" Rosie asked. "Shall we have this argument again?"
Reaver snorted and turned his head away. "Go on and leave. I don't care. You've given me your answer, and you're free to leave. See Hatch before you go about your final pay." Reaver turned around and started for the manor again. He turned around at that moment and felt disappointed that Rosie wasn't following him. She stayed in her spot looking out at the lake. Reaver stopped and fumed a bit. Outwardly, he looked like a child not getting his way.
Rosie stood still, as if looking through time itself. She probably was for all Reaver knew.
"What can I say to make you change your mind?" Reaver asked, standing at the beginning of the dock. "What can I offer you that will make you stay here?"
Rosie didn't move. "You still don't get it, do you?" she asked. "If it's taken you this long to know me, then you have nothing to offer me. You only offer me gold and silk, but what can you truly offer me that will convince me that you actually care about me? I can't see your future, Reaver. I can't see it. I can see a few days ahead, but I can't see anything beyond that. Your future will always be uncertain and it is not something I care to be a part of. One minute you offer me the world, the next you'll throw me down a well to appease long dead gods to keep yourself from getting another wrinkle. You're a vain man, but not just in looks. You don't like it when things don't go your way. As children, we learn that life isn't fair. When did you forget that lesson?"
The wind blew Rosie's long black hair at that moment. She still didn't face him. "Is this because of your father?" Reaver asked. Rosie didn't answer. "That man at Hatch and Miss Sarah's wedding was your father and by tradition, a father gives the bride away. He'll never allow our union."
Rosie sighed and looked away. "I stopped caring what my father thought when he let my mother die." She whispered, barely loud enough for Reaver to hear. "I grew up knowing he was watching me, but I never took to time to see where he was watching from. He only cares about power and power is something you'll never have to him. But if you think my refusal to settle for you is based on whether or not an angry omnipotent demon with control issues will tear you apart, you're mistaken. I know how you feel, Reaver. But do you know you feel?"
Reaver didn't answer. Rosie turned around and faced him. Her eyes were blank, showing only the starry sky. "You're a shameful butterfly: you've transformed from some horrible thing to another but with prettier wings so no one will know. You will always be a pirate: you constantly seek treasure without appreciating the fortune you already have. Your path will fork soon. Redemption or perdition. You can only choose once. I suggest you make it count."
Nothing else existed at this point. Only Reaver and Rosie existed now it seemed. "Rosie…" Reaver asked, stepping toward her. Reaver's eyes were like glass and they reflected her. He took one of her hands and leaned forward. "Rosie, if you already know how I feel, then why are you leaving?" he asked.
The wind picked up as Reaver leaned forward and kissed Rosie's lips. Rosie didn't refuse him. Her lips were soft and warm, despite her cold demeanor. The taste of her kiss reminded Reaver of a warm cup of tea on a cold day; refreshing and nurturing. Reaver could hear the wind, the voices of thousands of spirits talking at once, as he kissed Rosie. His eyes were closed, but he could see everything. He could see her visions and he could feel the sadness mixed in them. It all suddenly became joy and that is when Reaver opened his eyes.
Rosie was gone.
Late the next afternoon
Reaver heard the door close many times that day. Luggage being taken out and servants leaving. He had watched from the top of the grand staircase as his beloved Circus Rejects left his employ. They had gathered their last pay (plus a bonus) and were soon on their way to their new lives. Lives without him in it. Beryl told Reaver he would always be welcome at her vineyard. Reaver only smiled, saying he expects a good deal and good quality when he orders some of her vineyard's wine for his next party.
He waved to them as they left. Gordon, Beryl, and Willa left the manor to the carriage driven by Olaf waiting for them in the front. Reaver lingered for a bit and made his way back to his office. There was much to do but Reaver didn't actually feel like doing any of it. Reaver kept his gave out his office window, trying to see if he could spot the carriage taking his servants away to their new lives. At that moment, the door to his office opened and Barry walked in.
"Well, it is done." said Barry, dusting off his hands. Reaver didn't move from his spot by the window in his office. "The new servants are settling in and my replacement starts first thing tomorrow morning, Sir. I left all the information on your desk. The new recruits will be out in the foyer awaiting your orders."
Reaver only nodded. He was actually uninterested in what Barry was saying. Reaver had a lot on his mind but he tried to ignore it. His life, the events of every little adventure he'd been on in the last three hundred years, and even the mundane occurrence were flashing before his eyes. Barry just stood there, waiting for some kind of reply. Reaver turned around and stared at his former assistant. He didn't know why he was so shocked to see Barry in such casual clothing. Barry didn't have much style outside the uniform jacket. His casual jacket looked like his uniform jacket without the Reaver Industries insignia on the front. Barry cleared his throat, but Reaver still did nothing.
It was a good while before Reaver finally said something. "Hatch, do you think it's foolish of me to want things to go back to the way they were?" Reaver asked.
Barry only shrugged. "I don't get your meaning, Sir."
Reaver chuckles and leaned against his desk. "Hatch, a year and a half ago, my beloved Circus Rejects started working for me. I can't say I was thrilled by the prospect but over time, they became part of what made Lakeview Manor so…well, unique! 'Oh, that's the house with the crazy servants' or 'that Reaver should keep those miscreants under control' were music to my ears. Everyone knew they worked for me and if you work for Reaver, you have to be a step above the rest. They've proven themselves time and time again that they indeed had what it took be work for me. Now, they are all leaving me. You, Miss Sarah, Beryl, Willa, Gordon, and yes even Rosie."
"Rosie is leaving too? She didn't mention anything all day yesterday." Barry asked, genuinely surprised.
Reaver nodded and went back to the window. "She's already gone, Hatch. She decided not to buy a caravan, but she is taking passage on a ship heading toward Aurora. Some type of mystical soul searching, I presume." Reaver touched his lips and then the glass of his window, looking down below. "Hatch, what is it like to be in love with one person? It's been so long I don't remember."
Again, Barry was surprised. "What does that have to do with Rosie leaving?" he asked. Reaver walked over to the little steel-mesh trash bin and picked up a crumbled up wad of papers. He gave them to Barry and promptly went back to the window. Barry unfolded the papers and read them silently. Normally, Barry acted as a legal advisor to Reaver as well, but he had never seen this contract. Something popped in Barry's mind at that moment. "Are you saying all that silent drama between you and Rosie is because of…this?" Barry pointed to the contract as if Reaver were staring at him, though Reaver made no movement.
Rereading everything, Barry could see that this contract has legal down to the last period; just the way Reaver liked it. Reaver had made more horrifying contracts than this one but Barry felt this was something even Reaver couldn't talk his way out of. There was no denying it, no matter how hard Reaver tried. Barry put the contract on the desk and just stared at him.
"You're in love with Rosie, aren't you?" Barry asked, after a long silence.
Again, Reaver said nothing. Barry had learned long ago how to read his boss. Reaver would deny it up and down, but Barry could see that Reaver felt rejected. This was a feeling Reaver was unfamiliar with and he wasn't sure how to process it. Barry knew for a fact that Reaver had been rejected many times, but it was usually on his own terms and through less heart wrenching means (a slap to the face, someone calling for a guard, etc.). It seemed like this was the one time he actually felt affected by
"If I didn't, would I have kept that damn contract?" Reaver asked, though his voice sounded acidic instead of sad. "It was only after she threw away her chance to be 'Mrs. Reaver' that I realized that the only reason I worked up that stupid contract was because I had hoped to hang on to something. For over three hundred years, I've had control. I've been in control, but that night, when I gave her the ultimatum, I realized for once, I didn't control anything, anymore. My business, my home, my servants…" Reaver growled thinking about the next few words. "…my heart…"
Barry had never seen this side of Reaver. In the years Barry had been in his service, he had never seen Reaver get emotional about one person. Barry was amazed, however, at how fast Reaver could bounce back from any disappointment. He watched Reaver walk around the desk and open a drawer. "Ahh, Hatch, I almost forgot. Here…" Reaver gave Barry a white envelope. Barry slid the flap open and picked what looked like a check out. "It's your final pay, along with a bonus. Miss Sarah's is in there, too."
Upon further inspection, Barry found another check with Miss Sarah's name on it. Barry looked up at Reaver and smiled. "Sir, this is…beyond generous!"
Reaver laughed. "Hatch, you've been in my service for years. I think you've more than earned it. Use that money to buy a home for you and Miss Sarah. Start married life off right."
"If you don't mind me saying, Sir…" Barry was still in awe of the checks. "…why not go up to Rosie and 'renegotiate' the contract? She's really not that scary."
Reaver said nothing on the subject, but he looked like he was considering. Barry folded the envelope and placed it in his pocket. They stood there in silence for a good while, not saying anything. Barry was about to turn around and leave when Reaver stopped him. "Hatch," Reaver shouted, walking to the middle of his office. The two men stood there and stared at each other. The same memories were going through each of their minds. From Barry being hired, to being "resurrected", and to now. Reaver extended his gloved hand. "Good job, Barry."
Barry extended his and the two men shook hands, as friends. "It's been an honor, Reaver." The handshake only took five seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
With that, Barry left Reaver's office. Downstairs, where Barry had found the servants waiting for instructions many times, he only saw Miss Sarah. Their belongings were sent ahead and now all that remained was her own little carry-on. The others had left long ago and Miss Sarah felt it made sense that since she was the first of her group to step into the house when they arrived, that she be the last of them to leave.
"Ready, Lovey?" Barry asked, making sure his gloves were on tight.
Both of them looked around the foyer and remembered the day they met. At the time, Barry wouldn't have believed a woman like her would ever see him as more than just Reaver's assistant. He was amazed to see that she saw him as not only a friend, but as a potential husband. Now, they were married and about to leave to start their life together. Barry took one more look around, wondering if they will ever return to this place. Barry took Miss Sarah's hand in his and led her out of Lakeview Manor one last time.
The grand doors closed softly and echoed throughout the house.
"Renegotiate…" Reaver murmured as he house grew quieter. Reaver looked over and saw the contract still on the desk. "Love can't be negotiated." He mumbled. He remembered when Rosie said that to him and it was starting to echo in his mind. "When you know your future, you have a better chance of changing it. Miss Sarah knew all along about her life with Hatch, I assume. Miss Sarah may not be able to see the future but she isn't stupid. A little aloof, but even she knows to turn on a light if the room is too dark."
The room was dark, after all. His servants were gone and his new ones would be starting in the morning. Reaver was considering everything now. He was considering his future. His future seemed quite empty like his house at the moment. Reaver stared out his window and tried not to think about the ships preparing to leave the dock in the morning from Bowerstone Industrial. It was at that moment that Reaver thought about his own private vessel, mooring in docks. Being on that ship always reminded him of his pirating days.
It was also at that moment he remembered something Rosie had told him. Reaver felt this had a deeper meaning than it probably should have had, but it struck a chord nonetheless.
"You will always be a pirate: you constantly seek treasure without appreciating the fortune you already have…"
Reaver knew then what he had to do. He grabbed the contract off the desk and left his office.
A Few Days Later, At Sea
"Miss Rosie, we're about to serve supper in the galley if you're hungry." said one of the crewmen, looking down at Rosie. Rosie looked up from her spot on the ship's deck and nodded softly. The setting sun reflected in her dark eyes and made them look almost orange. Nearly unrecognizable in anything outside her maid uniform, Rosie thought she was supposed to feel good. Taking off the uniform and stuffing it into the bottom of one of her steamer trunks, she tried to think of it as shedding a second skin.
Her dress, a simple front buttoning dark burgundy dress, seemed matronly but at the same time still feminine. She wore it with a sense of unearned pride. Had Rosie truly won? If she did, what was the prize in this silly game? Her freedom? Freedom from what?
The boots she wore were more comfortable than they looked and very fancy, considering the surroundings. Rosie sighed and looked out at the sea again. "How much longer until we reach Aurora?" she asked, not actually sure if the crewman was still there or not.
"We should be there before sunset tomorrow, Ma'am." The crewman answered. Rosie only nodded and stood up. She had booked passage on a simple transport boat. It wasn't a fancy ocean liner, but she had her own cabin and the others making their way to Aurora seemed friendly enough. It didn't matter where she went, actually. Rosie just knew she needed to be far away from Millfields and Aurora was pretty far from Albion proper.
Rosie was still wondering if she made the right decision. Rosie may have been able to tell the future, but she often found it odd that Reaver's was cloudy. She had tried many times to see into it over the course of her employment at Lakeview Manor, but she would only see into the immediate future. Nothing long term or a few years down the line would show up. She assumed this was a side effect of the deal Reaver made with the Shadow Court. Because of them, his future would always be uncertain.
It was this reason, Rosie believed, that gave her a feeling of heartache. She couldn't see a possible future at Lakeview Manor as Reaver's wife (literally speaking). Rosie dusted off her dress and looked around at the other passengers making their way toward the galley. She wasn't paying attention to the radiant conversation going on but found it comforting.
"Didn't this stretch of water used to be teeming with pirates?" asked a lady, closing her parasol.
"Years ago, but the Royal Navy made short work of them." said her companion, taking off his hat to wipe his brow.
"I hear there are occasionally some pirate ships spotted along this route." whispered another woman.
"We needn't worry. The crew is made of mostly retired soldiers. They still have some fight in them." Yet another woman replied.
Rosie looked over at the setting sun one more time and sighed. The dark cloud were coming in, meaning a storm was approaching. It didn't look like a bad one, though. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for but it certainly wasn't dinner. Rosie actually hadn't eaten a complete meal in a few days. She decided to try and finish her dinner tonight. Then, she'd settle into her cabin and read until it was time for bed. Rosie had saved up enough money during her time at Lakeview that she could easily afford a small home near the market of Aurora City. That is what she planned to do. Live a quiet life among the desert dwellers, fine-tune her fortune telling skills, and maybe make a meager living as a healer.
"What in Avo's name is that?!" shouted a woman near the port side of the ship. Rosie looked up as everyone rushed over to see what the woman was pointing at. She walked over and being taller than most in the crowd, could see something coming on the horizon.
"It looks like another ship! The sails are magnificent!" said another woman.
"I recognize that flag!" shouted an old man. "That's a pirate ship!"
Everyone started to panic and run for the cabins as the deck hands prepared for the worst. Rosie didn't move. Her eyes widened as the ship sailed faster and closer to her own. She looked genuinely surprised at this. The sails of the ship bore the insignia of Reaver Industries. On the bow of the ship, a man in red adventurer's clothes with the sea wind blowing his hair about, smiled as their target grew closer. The tattooed beauty mark was a dead giveaway to who this was.
"There!" shouted Reaver to his crew. Shots fired in the air as the crew of Rosie's transport ship held their hands up. They had no weapons that could match the legendary Reaver and knew the safest bet for the passengers would be to surrender. Rosie stepped forward and her eyes widened. "There, the greatest treasure of them all!" Reaver shouted as his ship slowed down so he could put a plank down. He didn't leave his ship, though.
"How did you find my ship so fast?" Rosie asked, as the roar of the wind and waves picked up.
"Not important!" Reaver shouted, as he reached into his inner breast pocket and pulled out the contract. "I think we need to renegotiate our contract. Here are my terms…"
Reaver took out his Dragonstomper .48 and held it flat to his heart, as if saluting. "My terms are this: you marry me, come back to Lakeview Manor as my wife, live in my house, shout orders at my servants, and have your every desire met; but in return, you let me introduce you as my wife at galas, hold your hand as we walk, kiss your cheek when you feel sad, and at the end of each day you sit with me in my study so we can meditate on the day together before we adjourn to bed. My bed. Where I tell you how lucky I am that you are mine."
Everyone was staring at Rosie now. Reaver just stared down at Rosie. She didn't answer. She turned away from him. "Come now, Rosie; don't tell me I wasted my time and money searching the waters and taking out three other transport ships before finding yours. Don't let those innocent souls' deaths be in vain." Reaver retracted his hand. He sighed inwardly and glared down at her. "What do you want me to say, Rosie? What can I say that will convince you that I…actually have these feelings for you? Please don't make me say it! Do you know how bad it will look if people know the great and powerful Reaver fell for one of his maids and is willing to give up at least a third of his lifestyle for her? I do have a reputation to up hold. Won't you think about my image? I mean, how selfish can one person be?"
"At least a third? You must be in love." said one of Reaver's crewman. Reaver turned and shot the man in the chest. He turned back around as if nothing happened.
"My terms…" Rosie mumbled.
"Yes, your terms. What are you terms?!" Reaver shouted, having very little patience at this moment.
"Say it." Rosie said, softly.
"Say what?" Reaver asked.
"You know what it is. Say it once. That's all you have to do. I'll marry you and come back to Lakeview Manor. All you have to do is say it and mean it. Say. It. Once." Rosie turned away from Reaver.
To Reaver, she might as well have asked him to rip out his liver with his bare hands without bleeding on the desk of the ship. Reaver mumbled what sounded like the words, but weren't the words. The words he was searching for were foreign to him, as if she asked him to suddenly start speaking a different language. He was, of course, a talented linguist. But in his mastery of all the languages he'd learned up to that point, nothing was more foreign then those three words.
"Why do you have to make this so difficult?!" Reaver shouted. "I shouldn't have to put up with this when I can have any woman I want! I shouldn't have to say three stupid little words to make a woman mine. In the past, all I had to do was smile and a woman was mine! Hell, most men were mine at that point. But why, in this entire world, would I have to fall in love with the most stubborn woman in Albion?! I won't be defeated like this! I refuse to bow down to a woman, any woman! Especially someone like you!"
Reaver pointed his gun in Rosie's direction. She just stood there. His gun, an extension of his power, was fixed at the exact middle of the back of Rosie's head. He had reached his breaking point. She was either going to leave with him on his boat back to Bowerstone or end up floating in the water. At this point, he didn't care which happened. Reaver was so mad, he was almost foaming at the mouth. "Did you actually think anyone could ever really love you…?" Reaver cocked his gun but Rosie didn't flinch.
Rosie did start to smile at that point. "You went through all this just for me?" she asked softly, still not facing him. "You went through all this heartache, all this expense and trouble, just for me?"
Lowering his gun, Reaver sighed. "Yes, I did, damn it all. Do you know why?" Reaver asked as Rosie shook her head. "I was hoping you knew because neither do I." Reaver tightened his grip on the contract, almost forgetting he had it in his other hand. Reaver gulped and looked at the contract. "Wait a moment…I know why…"
He growled at it and threw it into the air. With some fancy hand movements and proper timing, he shot the contract directly in the middle. The paper burst into confetti and fell like confetti. Rosie's eyes formed happy tears as Reaver stretched his hand out to hers. "…because I love you, Rosie. Not because I wanted everything back to the way it was. Because I love you." The paper confetti down on the plank between the boats, some blowing in the wind. "Have we come to terms?"
Rosie felt a tear go down her cheek as she quivered a smile. For the first time in as long as he's known her, Reaver wasn't frightened by her smile. "You did me one better. You said it twice." Rosie chuckled as she turned around. She looked up at him with happy tears as the last of the paper fell around her. "Yes!" she shouted as she let her tears flow. "Yes, I agree to those terms!"
Like a true swashbuckler, Reaver grabbed up Rosie and kissed her deeply as his men ran toward the transport ship's cabins to gather her things. Reaver picked Rosie up, wedding style, and took her onto his ship, where by "coincidence" a chaplain was waiting. As the impromptu wedding began, Reaver's ship shoved off.
Back toward Bowerstone Harbor. Back toward Millfields. Back toward home.
Hi, hi, everyone!
I'm not dead! Just exhausted and happy to be back. This isn't the last chapter. Next chapter is an epilogue where we see how everyone is doing.
I recently got a new computer after my laptop died on me. The stupid thing had two video cards, TWO, and both crapped out. The stupid thing was barely two years old. And, as things tend to work out for your beloved Luna Peachie, the warranty expired in January.
Luckily, I managed a trade with a friend. I gave him my overpriced paperweight and he'll fix it up to sell on eBay and he gave me a computer he had been working on. It works just as well, if not better than my laptop. I finally feel like a true member of the PC gaming master race. I plan to get a more powerful video card in the future and a better monitor as I'm using my brother's spare, but all in due time, I suppose. It can plan Skyrim without blowing up so that's a good sign.
I'm honored that this chapter is the first I release on my new computer. My first fan fiction…hmm…
So, here's the fun part! You review this chapter, tell me how I did, and I get the last chapter out as soon as humanly possible. How does that sound? With my new compy, getting updates out should be much faster and more enjoyable. And not to mention more frequent. We all like that, right?
Also, don't forget to visit me on Tumblr! The link is in my profile page. Or just look up "lunapeachielovesyou" on Tumblr.
As always, my loves: Read, review, and be merry!
Reaver and Barry Hatch belong to Lionhead.