A/N: Okay. Full M rating on this one. I may have to change the rating on the story, no? Except ... eh. I blame lsgrimm91 for this, as well as OJBF3, who told me it would be a travesty for Elsie to just get dropped off after this party.

Love to brenna-louise who is my flash-fast proofreader.

Um ... please enjoy! And drop me a review, to which I shall reply via PM until this website gets its shit together.

xx

CSotA

Jan 1, 2015 12:01 a.m. - The Cheeky Devil

"Mama, please? Just tonight?" Marigold begged, yawning widely.

Edith looked at Bertie, who smiled and shrugged and said, "It's your decision, my dear. I don't mind at all."

With a glance to the threesome still embracing on the dance floor, she sighed and gave in.

"Alright, but if Uncle Charlie says no, you're not to argue."

"Yes!" Marigold shouted. She tore off across the restaurant and tapped Daisy on the shoulder.

Daisy turned around and smiled when she saw Marigold's face. She turned back to Charles and tugged at his sleeve.

"Papa, Auntie Edith said yes – may I please go home with them tonight?"

"What's this?" Elsie asked, startled.

Charles couldn't even look at Elsie, not if he was going to keep his face impassive, and so he focused solely on Daisy. "That's fine, petal. Your bag is in the car from last time, I think. You'll need clothes for tomorrow, though …"

Daisy shook her head. "No, I won't. Auntie Cora washed them all – the ones in my bag are clean."

Elsie, meanwhile, looked up and saw Edith's smile from across the room. She excused herself with a pat to Charles's arm and headed over to see her.

"Edith? Did you plan this? Is this some sort of set-up … or pity?" she asked, blushing furiously.

"Elsie, don't argue. I know how it is, and how precious little time you get alone with a little one about. We'll keep them busy for most of tomorrow, and you can tell Uncle Charlie she'll be home after dinnertime."

Elsie opened her mouth, but shut it before she could say anything. She smirked and shook her head at her boss - her dear friend - and squeezed her hand in thanks before returning to Charles and Daisy.

"Well, it looks like we've been manipulated rather effectively, Mr. Carson, and by two children no less. Why am I not surprised?"

"Why, indeed?" he chuckled. Then he turned back to Daisy.

"You'll behave, of course. And sleep?"

Daisy nodded quickly, then hugged them both goodbye. She took Marigold's hand and they ran back to Edith and Bertie, with Elsie sending a quick prayer for the younger couple that the girls would be able to fall asleep quickly and not keep them up all night.

"Well, Ms. Hughes? Shall we be off?" Charles murmured in her ear, his voice and breath sending a shiver down her spine.

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied seductively. "Remind me to buy Edith a very, very nice New Year's gift."

He laughed. "I shall … but not in the next eighteen hours."

He retrieved their coats and helped Elsie into hers, purposely dragging his fingertips up her neck as he straightened her collar. She returned the favor by "fixing" his scarf, which she claimed was twisted under his collar.

"Your place?" he asked breathlessly, and she nodded.

"Yes, if you don't mind. But stop by yours first so that you aren't wearing that home tomorrow," she said, indicating his suit, and he nodded.

"I'm sorry," he asked on the ride to his house, "but I didn't even think to ask if you already had plans for tomorrow."

"Don't worry. I do, for the afternoon ... but, erm, I was hoping you'd join me."

"Absolutely. Where are we heading?"

"You'll see," she said softly, laying her head on his shoulder.

"A woman of mystery," he murmured, earning him a playful swat on the hand.

It was snowing when Charles finally pulled up to Elsie's front door, where he let her out before parking the car by the barn. By the time he made it into the house, hastily-packed overnight bag in hand, she had already reloaded the wood on the fire and fetched two snifters of brandy. He let the dog out and turned to see Elsie before him, raising an eyebrow at the glass she held out.

"I was cold," she explained, her eyes raking over his snow-covered jacket and his flushed cheeks, which she knew would be frigid if she touched them. "Although now I'm a bit warmer, remembering that you're here," she teased.

Charles laughed. "Is that so?" he asked as he took off his coat and slipped his boots from his feet, setting them onto the boot tray by the door. He loosened his tie and approached Elsie, placing a very chaste kiss to her lips that belied his true desire.

"Thank you," he said as she handed him the snifter.

"My pleasure." She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, here we are. Now, might I suggest we move away from my front door?" She giggled, and he smiled at the sound of it, light and twinkling, somehow a much-needed levity in the highly-charged atmosphere in which they currently found themselves.

"Why not?"

She let Max in and pointed to his bed. He obeyed willingly, quite happy to tuck in for the night in his bed by the hearth.

Elsie took Charles by the hand, placing a warm kiss to the delicate spot between his thumb and forefinger, sucking on the skin there for a second before relinquishing her hold. He gasped softly when the tip of her tongue tickled the delicate skin near his palm, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

"The effect you have on me, Elsie … my god," he murmured, somehow making his way to the couch and sitting in the corner, sideways. He beckoned for her to sit, his arm outstretched along the back of the seat. As soon as she tucked herself in, her back resting somewhat against his chest, he pulled her in tighter and placed a kiss to her temple.

"We're very lucky people, you know, having Edith for a loved one," she said. "Although you didn't seem surprised."

He chuckled. "We are lucky at that. And no, I was not surprised; Daisy asked me about it before we picked you up, but I wasn't making any promises until Marigold actually asked."

"Then you and Edith have very smart girls - and I am glad you're here."

"Me, too," he replied, resting his cheek on her head.

They sat quietly for a moment, before Elsie ventured, "I find I'm not terribly tired, although I should be. But do you mind if we just sit here for a bit?"

"Of course not," he murmured into her hair. "I'm not just some randy teenager, Elsie. I do believe I possess a modicum of self-control."

"Ha! I'm glad you do," she answered, squeezing his thigh. "I think I just want some time to cuddle up here and … talk … if you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" He shifted slightly so that she could tuck her legs up onto the couch, and pulled her closer.

The fire in the stove crackled and popped, and the orange flames were as mesmerizing as they were warming. They sipped their brandy slowly, refilling their glasses once, and talked for over an hour – about his work and hers, about the farm and her dreams for its future, about how he'd been considering when to retire, his plans for the business he still had in England up in the air. After a while, though, the conversation tapered off as each of them felt warm, more relaxed, and, quite simply, loved.

"I could stay like this forever," he whispered.

"Mmm," she hummed. "Me, too." After a moment, she added, "Do you know, I am having a hard time remembering what it was like when I didn't know you?"

"I do know, as it so happens, and I find that surprising given that we don't see each other every day."

"True – or maybe that's why? 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' and all that."

"Perhaps, although I wish that were not the case. Somehow I don't think I'd mind so much if it weren't," he said softly, reaching his hand up to gently caress her arm.

"Charles," she warned, "you know it's too soon for anything like that. Daisy …"

"I know," he reassured her. "But … just so that we're clear … I wouldn't mind."

"Mmm, nor would I," she replied, surprising him.

"Truly?"

"Truly." She took the last sip of her brandy and then turned to kiss him. She'd meant it to be a quick kiss, but he recaptured her mouth before she could back away.

And, really, Elsie, do you want to? No …

Elsie extended her arm in the general vicinity of her coffee table and deposited her snifter on it, hoping that in her temporary distraction she'd not misjudged the table's location. She heard nothing fall, though, and figured she was fine.

Reaching her hands up into his hair, she opened her mouth and heard a faint moan, unsure really from which of them the sound had come – perhaps both of us, she reckoned. She shifted her position on the couch and tilted her head, pulling him closer as she grazed her nails on his scalp.

Charles broke away first, breathlessly, and looked at her with wonder.

"Um … oh, my …" he swallowed. "I can honestly say no one else has ever kissed me quite like you do," he added, and she cocked her head.

"Well, then, Mr. Carson … I'll have to do more of it in the future." She reached over and took his glass – almost empty now – and finished it off.

"That was mine," he protested weakly, shaking his head at how she rolled her tongue around the 'r' in his name.

"Too late," she answered, reaching her head around to nip his ear lobe. He yelped, and she laughed softly.

"I see how it is," he said. "Two can play at that game, Ms. Hughes."

Before she knew what was happening, Charles had his big hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly from his lap, and she found herself suddenly lying on her back, with one of his hands somehow gently cradling her head. She wasn't even sure how he managed that!

"How did you d- ohhhh …" she breathed. "Never mind."

He began a slow exploration of her neck, then moved down to the part of her collarbone left exposed by the neckline of her dress, giving each inch of visible skin equal attention. Eventually, he made his way back to her lips, and deposited a brief kiss to her mouth before moving to kneel beside the couch, his left hand now slowly running up and down her arm as the fingers of his right hand – no longer trapped beneath her head – lazily brushed a couple of locks of hair away from her face.

"You are amazingly beautiful, you know," he whispered reverently.

Elsie opened her mouth to chastise him for such an effusive compliment, but shut it again when she saw the look in his eyes. She just shook her head almost imperceptibly, and mouthed a faint 'thank you,' then reached up and pulled his head down, cradling it on her chest and running her fingers through his hair as she once again contemplated this great bear of a man, so gentle, whose heart was clearly hers for the taking.

Never did I think this would ever happen, was all she could think at that moment.

The clock in the hallway chimed twice, and Charles lifted his head.

"We should really not fall asleep on this couch, Elsie."

She smiled and nodded at him. "I know." She shooed him away and swung her legs down, then accepted his hand to help her get up. He didn't let go, though, merely pulled her into a drowsy embrace.

"Mmm," she hummed again. "I do love having you here."

He backed away enough to look into her eyes, noticing that in the dimmed light of the room they appeared as dark as a summer's nighttime sky.

"I love being here – or anywhere, for that matter – with you. More than I ever thought possible," he replied, surprising himself with the emotion he had to swallow after uttering the words.

She bit down gently on her lip and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

They undressed one another slowly, reverently. It was nothing like the other nights they'd spent together, when they'd felt the rush of first-time lovemaking and passion and an overwhelming need for release. Buttons and zippers were undone slowly, with kisses being laid to bare skin and words of love being murmured and whispered, heard underneath the soft swish of fabric falling to the floor. This is wonderful, Charles thought – calm, loving. And, he had to acknowledge, he was exhausted.

Elsie lay on the bed, arms outstretched in silent beckoning, and Charles climbed in, pulled the quilts around them both, and lay his head gently on her chest, placing a tender kiss to the side of her breast. She stroked his back lightly with her fingers, and he wrapped his arm around her waist and held on tightly.

"I've never felt so completely, utterly loved," he whispered, overcome with the power of his own emotions and feeling rather foolish about it.

She looked down at him, wiping his tears with her fingertips and placing a gentle kiss to his head.

"It's quite possible that you never were," she whispered back.

And, with that, they both drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, Elsie's eyes opened. All was still silent outside, and she raised her head enough to verify that it was still snowing, seeing the flakes coming down hard, illuminated by the light outside the barn.

Early … everyone still tucked in dreaming, keeping warm.

She moved gently, trying not to wake Charles, whose deep breathing told Elsie he was still fast asleep. Every once in a while he'd let out a little hum of sorts, not quite talking in his sleep, but clearly dreaming … or at least sleeping quite contentedly.

She, however, was wide awake.

Hm.

She rolled onto her side, her hands curled up under her chin, and just watched him sleep. His face was so peaceful and calm, looking years younger than he truly was. She knew he'd be fifty in three weeks, but in his sleep the laugh lines on his face were smoothed out, only the crinkles in the corners of his eyes still showing. The stubble of his beard was starting to come in, but not much, given that he'd shaved immediately before the party. She reached out and ran a fingertip across it gently, jumping back a bit when he twitched in his sleep.

She inched closer to him and gently placed her head next to his shoulder, kissing it softly and smiling when he murmured in his sleep and turned in her direction, wrapping an arm around her. She snuggled in, her forehead almost touching his chin, and began making little circles on his chest with her fingers.

"Mmm, that feels nice," he said groggily into her hair.

"Good," she whispered, kissing his shoulder again.

"What time is it?"

"Too early for you to worry about it, trust me."

He hummed again at that, then moved a bit and scooted up onto the pillow so that Elsie could place her head on his chest, enabling him to wrap both arms loosely around her. After a minute, he realized that the fingertips caressing his chest were slowly moving downward.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and she smiled, but it didn't stop her hand from wandering.

"Oh," she gasped, reaching her destination and discovering that they were clearly both on the same page already, the back of her hand brushing up against him unexpectedly.

"You didn't think you were the only one who had early morning plans, did you?" he rumbled.

"I guess I was a step behind," she said, gliding her hands over him ever-so-gently and appreciating the hissing sound he made between his teeth.

Charles felt himself jerk, and moved her hand aside.

"Wait …" he said, lifting himself up and shifting them both again so that he was above her.

"I see – more awake now, are we?" she teased, running her fingernails from his arms to his hips and back again, repeatedly.

"Indeed." He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, coaxing her lips apart with his own as she loosely embraced him, still managing to keep a small amount of space between then.

When he broke away, he moved one hand slowly to her abdomen, a questioning look in his eyes. She nodded, and he maneuvered it further down, caressing her gently until she writhed beneath him.

"Charlie," she managed, frantically grabbing at his sides and pulling him closer and shaking her head. "That's enough … come here … I need you closer, mo ghràidh."

Is that Gaelic? he thought wildly.

"Like this?" he asked, nestling himself between her legs, but still not fully joined.

"No," she growled, wrapping her legs around his buttocks and attempting to pull him in.

He resisted for just a few seconds, long enough to regain eye contact with her.

"I love you so much," he whispered, and he lessened his resistance, enabling her to draw him inside of her in one agonizingly slow moment.

She moaned as he slid in, and then tightened the grip of her legs to keep him from moving.

"Please, just … stay like this, just for a moment," she managed, wrapping her arms around him as well and holding him to her as though she were clinging on for dear life.

He understood – he felt what she was feeling, a most powerful thing that he'd never be able to adequately put into words.

"Still not close enough, though," he said, and she shook her head as tears appeared in the corners of her eyes.

"No, it's not," she whispered, both elated and frustrated at how she was feeling.

She loosened her hold just a little, and he slowly – slowly – began to move again. There was no sense of rushing – like undressing each other the night before, each felt as if time had slowed down, as if nothing existed outside of themselves. Charles placed kisses wherever he could reach – slow, luxurious kisses, relishing in the faint traces of her perfume from the night before, the slightly salty taste of her skin after sleeping. One of his hands ghosted across her chest, eliciting low moans from somewhere deep inside of her. The only thought he had that made any sense at all was, I can't ever let you go.

Their slow movements had Elsie floating on a gossamer thread, every nerve in her body fully attuned to his movements, kisses, and caresses, her ears picking up on even the most minute sounds that he emitted. She felt intensely present as she never had before when making love – not with Charles and certainly never with Joe – and yet, at the same time, she could have sworn she was floating away from it all. She felt the familiar, welcome pressure start to build, and managed to hold herself back until she could feel that he was close.

"Closer, Charlie," she whispered, reaching down with her hands and pulling him in even deeper. "Closer."

He complied, fearful of hurting her but unable to deny her. Seconds later he cried out her name, and she let herself go.

"Yes, my love, mo chridhe … with me …" she whispered, pulling him impossibly further in as he cried out her name in the stillness of the room.

When he was able to think clearly again, Charles tried to move, but Elsie maintained her grip.

"No, not yet, please," she said softly. "Just let me hold you right here."

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, kissing the hair at her temple.

"Never … you couldn't." She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes half-closed.

"I couldn't bear it if I ever did," he said, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger and kissing her sweetly on the forehead.

Minutes later, when Charles began to feel uncomfortable, he slowly slid down onto the bed by her side, rolling her gently on her side and spooning her into his embrace once more.

"Sleep, my love," he whispered in her ear.

"Don't leave," she murmured, already half asleep.

"Never," he answered.

Once again, Charles woke up alone in Elsie's bed. He felt extremely well-rested, despite the small amount of sleep he knew they'd actually gotten. He allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts for a moment, then lifted himself up onto his elbows and peered out the window, seeing Elsie moving about outside the barn as she tended to the animals. He noted that she'd shoveled a quick path to the barn at some point when he was sleeping and, at the present moment, was bringing a bucket of feed over to the chicken coop. She turned the corner and walked out of his line of vision, and he sat back against the pillows and rubbed his hands over his face.

She's incredible, he thought. Absolutely incredible.

He forced himself up and donned his shorts, then padded through to the front hall to retrieve his overnight bag. He bent down to scratch Max's ears, noting that his fur was damp.

"Did someone have fun outside this morning, hm?" he asked, and smiled as Max wagged his tail in agreement.

Charles took another peek outside, but Elsie was nowhere to be found. He brought his bag into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Ten minutes later he was dressed and in the kitchen, scouring through her fridge in search of breakfast supplies. He located two potatoes in the dish on the counter, which he diced with the quarter of an onion he found in the fridge. There were fresh eggs, of course, along with some spinach and a block of cheese. He found the grater behind the second cabinet he opened, pleased once again at how well-organized her kitchen was. Just as he dropped a pat of butter into the pan for the omelets, he heard Elsie moving about in the basement.

When she came through door, Elsie gasped at the sight of her kitchen.

"What's this?" she asked, a brilliant smile on her face. Charles turned to see her … in her robe, of all things … and found himself flustered.

"It's … breakfast," he said slowly. "You're undressed."

"Not quite," she amended, moving toward him for a hug and a good morning kiss. "But close. It's easier to take off the snow-covered stuff downstairs and pop it right into the washer. I always do that," she explained, and he nodded.

"Yes, that makes sense. Tea?" he asked, pointing to the fresh pot he'd just set out. "Piping hot, which I gather from your frigid face you could use about now."

She nodded her thanks and sat at the counter, watching him as he deftly flipped the first of the omelets.

"I rather like you taking control in my kitchen, with me coming in and having breakfast being cooked for me," she told him. "I could get used to this."

His eyes flew up and met hers, and he raised an eyebrow. "Well, you never know."

She met him eyebrow for eyebrow. "Indeed …"

Charles plated the omelets and home fries and then refilled their tea. He sat next to her, and they chatted about trivial things as they ate. After a while, Charles remembered something from earlier.

"Where are we heading today?" he asked. "You never said."

Elsie chewed thoughtfully and then sipped on the last of her tea. "Well, I usually don't go during the week, but as it's the holiday … I'm heading to see my sister, Becky. I was rather hoping to bring you, to introduce you."

Charles's eyes widened. "I see," he said, and he saw Elsie's face fall a bit.

"Unless you'd rather not," she murmured, looking down at her plate and moving her potatoes about. "It is somewhat of a big thing, I realize, but …" she trailed off.

Charles reached over and took her hand, stilling its movements. "No, it's not that I don't want to, but are you sure? Does she even know about me … about us?"

Elsie nodded. "She does – I broached the subject at Christmastime and she seemed fairly happy. But she doesn't do well with the unknown, and I think it would be easier for her to have a face, a personality, to put with the thought."

He nodded. "That makes sense. And I'd love to go with you." He squeezed her hand, and Elsie beamed at him. "On one condition," he added.

"What's that?"

"We take my car."

She laughed, and nodded her agreement. "Fine – I can live with that."

"Good. Now I'm going to clean up while you go warm up in the shower. Do you need me to do anything else?"

She shook her head at him. "You are marvelous, do you know that? I'm not used to being waited on, Charles. Just relax - peruse the bookshelves, cuddle the dog. I'll be ready in half an hour."

"A woman who can be ready quickly – no frills." He leaned over and kissed her gently. "This just keeps getting better and better."

Her laughter followed him into the kitchen, and she reached out to swat his bottom as she passed by.

The car ride took about half an hour, during which time Elsie texted Becky to let her know a guest would be arriving with her.

1:14 p.m.

Hello lovely – on the way. Bringing Charles to meet you.

1:15 p.m.

Can't wait. Nervous tho.

1:16 p.m.

So's he. No worries, darling – just talk books.

1:18 p.m.

Beryl likes him.

1:19 p.m.

She does. Love you sweetie – see you in a bit.

1:21 p.m.

K

"Everything alright?" Charles asked, reaching over to rest his hand on Elsie's knee.

"Fine. She's nervous about meeting you. She's awkward around new people."

"So am I," he chuckled. "This booming voice tends to throw them off a bit, I think … come across as somewhat of a bully. Don't mean to, of course."

She squeezed his hand. "I warned her about the voice," she said. "And Beryl has given you a glowing recommendation, which carries a lot of weight with my darling sis. No worries, love."

Charles followed Elise's directions turn for turn and pulled up to an enormous Victorian house.

"This isn't what I expected at all. It's good that you were with me, or I'd have driven right past."

"You thought it would be like a nursing home, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Most people do," she said, "but it's quite nice here. More community house than nursing home. They've got physicians on staff 'round the clock, but it's not got an antiseptic feeling or anything like that. The residents are monitored all the time, but have free rein for the most part to roam around and interact with one another. Several gather in the parlour to play games and such. There are Bingo nights, cooking lessons, and each resident has times when they're on the chart to help with cleaning chores. Becky spends a lot of time in her room, though, reading. And she has a new companion, a woman named Martha." She smiled at Charles, giving him a look he couldn't quite read. "You'll find her … interesting, I think. Both of them," she amended, "but particularly Martha."

"Alright," he said slowly, getting out of the car. "I'm trusting you."

Elsie stood on her tiptoes before him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I've met your family, love … time for you to meet mine." She took his hand and, together, they headed in.

"Elsie!" the woman at the desk called out. "How lovely to see you again so soon!"

"Hi, Mags. Yes, I promised Becky I'd stop by again before heading back to school. This is Charles Carson …" she introduced, stopping awkwardly as she realized she wasn't quite sure how to introduce him. 'Boyfriend' seemed ridiculous, 'partner' annoyed her … definitely nothing else was appropriate.

"Pleased to meet you," Mags said, shaking his hand. "Elsie here's a real peach – one of the best."

"That she is," Charles agreed, smiling at the woman before him. He took in her grey hair, wrapped up tightly in a bun, and put her age around seventy. But the sparkle in her eyes spoke of mischief and a good deal of caring, and he surmised in those few seconds that she must be incredibly effective at running the place.

"She knows we were on the way – mind if we head on up?" Elsie asked, signing the visitors' log.

"Not at all. Have fun!" Mags said, giving Elsie's arm a little squeeze.

"Will do."

Charles and Elsie headed upstairs silently, hand in hand. He was grateful for her touch, soothing his nerves that were becoming edgier with every step. He couldn't believe how terrified he was to meet Becky. It hadn't dawned on him until Elsie said it, but Becky was her family – her only family – and it was vitally important to him that they get along well. Charles had no proper siblings of his own, and while Robert's family had always taken care of him and had stood in for his family in every sense of the word, it wasn't the same. This woman would look like Elsie, perhaps have her mannerisms – her accent, surely. It unnerved him.

Elsie stopped him outside the door, then turned to face him.

"I love you, you daft man. And so will she. Stop worrying." She kissed his hand and turned to open the door.

"Becky?" she called out, and Charles heard a squeal come from the far corner of the room.

"Ellie! Ach, so good to see you, love," Becky exclaimed, pulling Elsie into a huge hug.

Charles passed through the doorway, feeling a bit out of place. But Elsie broke out of her sister's embrace and pulled him further in, introducing them.

"It's lovely to meet you," Becky said shyly.

"Likewise," Charles replied. He was well aware that he was standing there, mouth agape, but couldn't quite manage anything.

"Charlie?" Elsie asked quietly.

"It's uncanny," he said quietly, trying to control his loud voice but also blown away by the resemblance between the sisters. "You could be twins if not for your being short."

"Pardon me?" Elsie huffed, and Becky snorted out a laugh.

"You tell her, Charles!" she exclaimed. "Ach, she is short!"

Charles looked at Elsie and laughed, ignoring her pout. "You are, Els. And your accent is softer, but otherwise it's like you are twins."

"Yes, yes," Elsie said, motioning for him to sit on the sofa opposite Becky's bed. "Enough of that, now."

He sat, properly chastised, as Elsie handed a parcel to Becky.

"Orange creams?" Becky asked hopefully.

"Of course," Elsie replied, sitting next to Charles on the sofa.

"You didn't tell me there were orange creams traveling with us today," he teased.

"Well, no, as I wanted them to actually make it to my sister."

Becky watched the two of them with interest. She liked Charles immediately, and could see why Elsie seemed to like him. He was kind, but clearly observant and smart. Joe had been a nice man, but he and Elsie fought a lot and Becky didn't like remembering that.

The afternoon passed quickly, with Becky taking Elsie's suggestion and asking Charles about his taste in books.

"British and American, actually – many favorites," he answered thoughtfully. "I prefer socio-economic commentary, above all – Dickens and the like," he added.

Becky quizzed him on his favorite Dickens novels, having read most of them multiple times herself, and Elsie mostly just sat and observed them. She was so proud of them both, knowing how nervous they'd been and being thankful that they'd found a common ground. But most of all, she thought, she was impressed at how Charles was treating her baby sister like an adult and not a child. Becky was such a strange mixture of both – intelligent in an almost savant-like way, particularly about literature – but she acted like a child in many others.

"Elsie hates Dickens," Becky confided, winking in her big sister's direction. "We used to argue about it all the time."

"Really?" Charles asked, looking at Elsie. "Well, I'll have to work on that."

"Fat chance!" Elsie answered as a timid knock sounded on the door.

"Come on in, Martha!" Becky called, standing up and practically running to the door.

Martha – a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties; tall, red-haired, and dressed sensibly – entered, and Becky approached her immediately and put her arm around her, drawing her into the room.

"Martha, you remember Elsie?" she said quietly, and Martha nodded.

"Hello, dear, how lovely to see you again," Elsie said, her voice as soft as Becky's.

"And this is Charles, Martha. He's Elsie's boyfriend. He's very kind … Why don't you come and join us?"

Martha shook her head as Charles almost whispered, "Very nice to meet you, Martha." He'd chosen to remain sitting so as not to frighten the woman, who was clearly quite shy around them.

Elsie heard his gasp at what came next, and smiled understandingly at him … for Martha had pulled on Becky's sweater and Becky leaned down, close enough so that her friend could whisper something in her ear.

"Oh," he murmured, "now I see."

"Yes," she replied under her breath. "Exactly."

"Martha wants to know if you're staying for dinner," Becky conveyed.

"Not tonight, we need to fetch my daughter," Charles said, managing to keep his voice down to a soft timbre.

"Your daughter?" Becky asked, shooting Elsie a surprised look. "You never said …"

"No, I didn't, did I? Well, yes. Charles has a beautiful daughter named Daisy," Elsie explained haltingly, "who is much like Martha here. She's rather quiet, but bursting with energy and spark on the inside."

Martha smiled gratefully at Elsie and nodded, a gesture that Elsie returned.

"Will I ever be allowed to ... meet her?" Becky asked timidly, and Charles's heart broke as he realized the woman must fear that, because of her nature, Charles wouldn't want Daisy near her. He was sure in that instant that Elsie had been wrong to withhold Daisy's existence from her, but it would be conversation for another time … perhaps.

"Of course," he answered, before Elsie could formulate a reply. "I'd be happy to bring her along next time. Daisy loves to read as well, and I think you'll get along well."

"Good, then that's settled," Becky declared.

They sat another half hour and visited, after which time Elsie looked at the clock and realized they needed to head out. She stood and gave Becky an enormous hug, and Becky surprised both her sister and Charles by heading over to hug him as well.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Charles. Take care of her!"

Charles smiled. "Oh, don't you worry – I plan to."

Elsie looked at them both and shook her head, a smile playing about her lips. "As if I need taking care of …" she muttered, causing them both to laugh.

"Right," Becky said, shooting Charles a smile. "Good luck to you, Charlie ol' boy," she added. "She's a right cracker, my Ellie."

"Don't I know it," he replied, squeezing Elsie's hand.

Not Becky nor Martha missed the look shared between them – one full of teasing and humor, but also of an endless, spirited love.

Yes! Becky thought. Finally.