Hey readers!
Well, I'm home sick today. Not so good for me, but pretty good for you guys. Got this chapter up, and I might get another one up later. I write when I'm bored.
Enjoy the chapter!
-Christianne
Nikki POV
"Jane! Jane, dear, wait!" I heard a man call. I just kept walking. I mean, my name isn't Jane. It's Nikki, well, Nicolette technically.
"Jane!" The man called again, this time I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I whipped my gaze to the hand, seeing a large, man's hand on my shoulder; which was clad in dark purple satin.
I didn't own any dark purple satin.
I followed the shiny, dark fabric down my arm and chest and saw a gown. A full skirted, and bustled gown. The three quarter length sleeves, cuffed with intricate white lace, matched the white lace that was around the collar. I spun around, shaking the hand off.
"I told you Cassidy!" I said. I felt like I was being controlled, like a puppet on strings. "We cannot speak in public, you agreed!"
"Please Jane!" The man, apparently Cassidy, said, his blue eyes pleading. It was strange. The man's face was blurry, like I was looking up at someone through water. I could make out the shape of the face, but no details. But the eyes…I could see his eyes clearly.
"It's important. I must speak with you." He didn't let me respond, he just took my hand in his, and pulled me aside, into an ally. My eyes grew wide as I looked at the five foot view I had of the street.
Horses, carriages, women in long dresses, men with walking sticks and velvet coats that had tails.
Oddly enough, most of my mind was wondering if I'd be seen. Why would I care if I'd be seen? Was it because of Cassidy?
"Jane," Cassidy said softly, I felt a gentle fingers under my chin, turning my head. "I got my letter today." He said quietly. "Orders, from the general...And your father."
"No! That's impossible, I destroyed your papers; your name was not on that list!" I said-Again, like a puppet. But my voice shook with real emotion. Hell, I felt real emotion.
"I know-Jane, darling, this isn't your fault. I am the one who signed up years ago. I was ready then and I am ready now. You must let me go darling." Cassidy said, his own voice shaking, and his eyes glancing down to my own hands, gripping his jacket in a white knuckle grip I didn't know I had.
"I don't want to let you go." I said quietly, my gaze falling from Cassidy's blue eyes, the only part of his face I could discern, to the ground, seeing the toes of my shoes (dyed the same color as my dress) and the clothes Cassidy was wearing. It was obvious just from what he was wearing that he didn't have the same wealth I apparently had.
"Janney," Cassidy breathed, taking both my hands off his jacket and holding both of them in one of his, and using the other hand to cup my cheek, making me turn my face to look at him. I felt my cheeks blush and my heart race when I noticed how close our faces where. I didn't understand that. I'd had boyfriends before. And we'd been way closer than me and Cassidy where now, and I wasn't as nervous as I was now. I...I felt...God, I felt in love. I stared up at Cassidy's sparkling eyes and I felt weak in the knees, and if they gave way I knew he'd catch me.
It was like I was watching a movie in my head. I wasn't in control of my actions.
I was surprised to feel a tear roll down my cheek.
"Jane dear," Cassidy said again, using his thumb to wipe the tear off my cheek. He dropped his voice lower, to avoid it shaking I'm guessing. "You must. You have to-"
I gasped as I sat up in bed.
My heart was racing, and my t-shirt was sticking to my torso with sweat.
That, was the most vivid, real dream I'd ever had. It was terrifying.
I looked at the large clock that hung over the fireplace opposite my bed. Five in the morning.
Well, no use going back to sleep when I had to be up in half an hour anyway.
I threw my Converse back, taking a second to marvel at the design of trees on my walls again. Each individual leaf was put on the wall, with a steam that connected it to a branch. It was just beautiful.
It only took me five minutes to get ready for work. I was practically skipping towards my boxes, as the mark on my ribs was just an angry pink mark, completely pain free. I still had a smile on my face as I started to look for the binder I had all my research on Jane and Janesville in. In no time at all, I had the thick, three inch binder, bursting with notes, photocopies of documents and several typed papers that I had used for school.
I tucked it under my left arm as I unlocked the various locks on the front door, and held my key lanyard in my teeth as I tried to keep my coffee in my last open hand. As I fumbled with the locks, the dull burning was growing on my ribs. Once I was outside and locked the door back up, the mark on my ribs where almost burning as if I was holding a curling iron to my side. I winced, the noise hurting my throat. It'd been sore all morning.
I dropped my stuff on the porch, setting my coffee cup on the flat rail before I yanked my shirt up to show my ribs on my left side. It was bright red again. I gently touched it, relieved that it didn't flare up in pain. I sucked in a breath, deciding I'd have to wrap it when I got to CJ's.
I tucked the folders under my other arm and looped my Yale lanyard around my neck as I started down the long drive way, the gravel crunching under my Converse.
Half an hour later, I was unlocking the doors of CJ's. The sun was just coming up, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It made me feel a little better about digging out the first aid kit again.
I didn't bother going in the bathroom to wrap my side, I just stayed in the back of the bar, out of the view of the windows as I lifted my shirt up so it was scrunched up under my breasts and wrapped my whole midsection in an Ace bandage again.
"Hello?" I heard someone ask after the door chimed. I quickly clipped the bandage end to the rest of it, and yanked my shirt down.
"Hey Sam," I said, easily recognize his voice.
"Hey," He responded, smiling. I would have guessed he was completely calm and relaxed, but a hint of awkwardness, and, dare I say, nervousness, stayed etched deep in his features. "Uh...Can plug this in?" He asked, flipping open the bag he had over his shoulder, revealing a laptop.
"Yeah, right up here," I said, gesturing to the counter with a nod of my head as I quickly threw the items back into the first aid kit.
"You ok?" Sam asked, eyeing the first aid kit as he pulled off his jacket, slinging it over an empty seat next to him.
"Yeah, fine...There was a bar fight a few weeks ago. I was just checking to see if I needed to get a new kit." I said, this wasn't a complete lie. There was a fight, and I did need to bring a new kit here, that just wasn't what I was doing then.
"Oh, before I forget," I said, reaching under the counter to get the three inch binder, then dropping it next to Sam as he started up his laptop, now plugged just under the counter top. It made a loud 'Thunk!' as it hit the counter. Sam didn't flinch, he only looked at it, then raised his eyebrows.
"This?" He asked, pushing his laptop aside and pulled the binder in front of him, flipping the light blue, plastic covered cover open as he flipped idly through the pages and pocket-files.
"I told you," I reminded him. "I wanted to write my dissertation on this place."
"Seems like you already did," Sam chuckled, going back to the front of the binder to look through the photocopies I had stuffed into the front pockets.
I just shrugged, smiling at him as I tied my apron on. "So...Want anything to eat?" I asked, searching for my purple pen.
"Just coffee'll be fine," Sam mumbled, now intently staring at some page in my binder.
I sighed, finally finding my pen. I put a pot of coffee on, and then went into the kitchen to make my own breakfast; waffles. Not to brag or anything, but I made the best waffles in Pennsylvania, possibly the United States and/or the world. Or, so I was told.
I grabbed the index card with the recipe scrawled onto it from the box above the counter in the kitchen. As I looked at the recipe, I bit my lip as I thought.
'Makes 2 10x9, 2 9", or 3 8x8 waffles
The restaurant had a two round waffle irons, nine inches. I didn't want to cut the recipe in half, it called for one egg, and since I couldn't cut an egg in half, it just wouldn't taste right. I slowly looked around the wall, out the square cut out that Travis handed me and Wendy plates through. Sam had decided to help himself to the coffee, I didn't care at all, and was slightly hunched over as he paged through the pages in the binder.
Well...I don't want to waste batter... I thought, gnawing on my lip again.