Mahoosive A/N at the end, too - sorry … stuff to say (brevity, as you know by now, is not my strong suit):
That last chapter that came at me by surprise was, perhaps, the most highly reviewed chapter of this story. Thank you to everyone! I can assure you that the things brought up between Charles and Elsie in that argument are far from over, but I couldn't send them to bed angry or without some sort of understanding and comfort. A great deal of people have commented that these folks are mostly in character, and I appreciate that - it's my number one goal … It means, however, that we won't always be happy with their behavior. :) (And as one astute reviewer HAS pointed out, Charles is perhaps the most OoC of them all because of his effusive feelings. But that reluctance to change is still there. If I kept him as reluctant to discuss his feelings as he is in canon, well ... we wouldn't have much of a story.) :)
To Teresagreen: I would love to reply to your reviews! If you have an account please PM me; if not, then please know I love your comments and questions. If you're on tumblr, please find me there and shoot me a message. x
To lemacd: THANK YOU for the input regarding the passage I sent. I'm a stickler for detail, and I appreciate that you took the time to help me out.
And to brenna-louise and chelsie-carson, my thanks for infinite amounts of help. Any problems you see here are most definitely due to my own carelessness.
Here we go!
CSotA
Monday, April 6, 2015
Sarah woke at the bus station in Portland, Maine, stiff from having spent the night on the bench. Still, she knew it was better than spending the night in Misty Cove, and well worth the risk of having hitchhiked her way to the city. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at her watch.
Six o'clock exactly, she noted with glee. Perfect.
She tucked her hair underneath her hood and made her way to the ticket counter.
"One-way to Boston, please, on the seven o'clock," she said, controlling her brogue enough to sound perfectly American.
"Twenty-six fifty," the cashier replied, stifling a yawn as he checked a text on his phone.
She slid the cash across the counter and he tucked it in the drawer. Her ticket printed and he slid it to her.
"Have a nice trip," he said, glancing up briefly and giving her a wan smile.
"Thank you," Sarah answered, already looking down as she tucked the ticket into her backpack; she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed toward the restroom, figuring she had just enough time to use the loo and brush her teeth before grabbing a tea and heading out of Maine for good.
The ticket seller looked up and watched her walk away. She was the first person to thank him since the beginning of his shift. He almost wished he'd paid more attention to her, but all he saw as she walked away was the back of her long, blue coat.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Elsie watched from where she stood by the sink as Daisy took another helping of fruit salad and brought it back to the table.
"Hungry this morning?" she asked, smiling.
"Yeah," Daisy replied, looking up and smiling back as she saw her Papa come into the kitchen and place a kiss on Elsie's temple.
"Hey! Where's mine?" Daisy teased, and he laughed.
"You're all the way over there, petal, and she's right here," he answered, squeezing Elsie gently; she smiled up at him half-heartedly, but he'd take it. They'd managed to get themselves back to a good place last night after their argument, but they both knew that when old wounds were opened it took a while to heal again. Both accepted that, managing to fall asleep with a kiss and holding one another's hand, and the new day seemed to put a fresh perspective on it all.
Daisy pretended to pout at her Papa but she only managed to giggle instead; Charles poured his tea and sat beside her.
"I fixed it," he whispered into her ear. "Mostly."
"I know," she replied. "Good."
Elsie joined them, and Charles noted that she appeared to be moving about gingerly.
"A bit sore today?" he asked, and she raised an eyebrow at him as Daisy focused on cutting a large piece of melon.
"Yes, I rather overdid things yesterday, I think," she replied, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing … which caused him look resolutely into his teacup.
"Pity. You'll have to relax more today, I think."
"Yes," she sighed, and added in all seriousness, "I do plan to. I need to phone Becky's home, talk to Mags about going down to meet with Becky's doctor. I think I also need to call Phyllis and set that stuff up … if you still don't mind?"
"I don't mind," he said with a tilt of his head, reassuring her. He pondered Phyllis for a moment. "She's a good friend, isn't she?"
"She is. She can keep her own counsel, but she's not afraid to speak up when she feels it's warranted."
"Obviously."
Daisy gobbled down the last of her fruit and left the table.
"Excuse me. Where do you think you're going?" Elsie asked. She pointed from Daisy's dish to the sink. "Nowhere without that dirty bowl and spoon, I imagine."
Daisy grabbed the items in question and brought them to the sink, where she rinsed them. "Sorry," she muttered.
"Thank you, Daisy," Elsie replied with a smile. "Go and brush your teeth then; you two have to be leaving in a few minutes."
"I know," Daisy said as she walked down the hall.
"Is it me, or is she a bit off this morning?" Elsie ventured. "Do you suppose she's worried about us?"
Charles took her hand in his and placed a kiss to her fingers. "No, not really," he said. "She made sure I 'fixed it' as she so eloquently describes it when I've put my foot in it and need to apologize to you."
"Keeping you in line, is she? Well, I do like that," she smiled at him. "And are we 'fixed' then, Mr. Carson?"
He looked at her quite seriously. "Almost," he whispered. "I do hope we will be soon, but we have quite a bit to sort through, I think, that's separate from the issue of what to do about Tommy."
She patted his hand. "Agreed, and I do mean for us to do that. I am sorry."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek, feeling her smile and lean her head toward him a bit more.
"Me, too," he murmured against her skin.
"Go on then," she chided softly, "or you'll be the reason she's late for school."
The knock on Edith's door startled her. "Yes?"
"Um, good morning," the young woman before her said hesitantly. "The secretary sent me in. I'm Stephanie Barcellos, the new building sub … I think."
"Oh!" Edith exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow!"
"Yes, I know, but I was able to work it out to come up a bit early. I wanted to come and at least meet you and then spend the rest of the day trying to find a place to stay. It seems you have only one hotel in town, so I'm staying with a friend for the moment."
Edith laughed. "Yes, it's a rather small town, indeed, although that hotel is a nice place. We've got a few folks who let rooms, too. But if you're looking for a less fancy hotel or motel, I can direct you to a few the next town over."
"Alright," Stephanie said gratefully.
"Please have a seat," Edith said, indicating the small table before her desk. "Can I offer you anything? There's a Keurig in the teacher's lounge …"
"No, no, I'm fine," Stephanie assured her as she sat.
"Alright, then," Edith smiled, taking her own seat. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person instead of just over the phone in an interview."
The younger woman laughed. "Likewise!"
"So, you said on the phone that you heard about the job from a friend?"
"Yes, well, I've been on the hunt for a job for quite a while now. There's absolutely nothing to be found at this time of year, and I'd planned to wait until the summer. But my best friend lives two towns over and saw the advertisement that you needed a building substitute here, so I applied. And then you called last week, so here I am."
"Well, today might just be your lucky day," Edith said. "And mine."
Stephanie narrowed her gaze for a moment, willing herself not to get too terribly excited. "How's that?"
"How would you like to take over a third-grade classroom tomorrow? Indefinitely, but possibly as a long-term sub."*
Stephanie laughed, and then saw the look on Edith's face. "Wait … Are you serious?"
Edith nodded. "I'm completely serious. Our third-grade teacher seems to be … well, missing at the moment."
"Oh!"
"Yes. Well, she told me last week she'd be out yesterday, but she's kind of a no-show today. She's not answering her phone, so -"
She was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Edith, I - Oh! I'm so sorry," Phyllis said, backing out. "I'll come back in bit."
"No, Phyllis, come in," Edith said. "This is Stephanie Barcellos. I'm hoping she might be our new sub in grade three … assuming we need one."
"Pleased to meet you," Phyllis said, offering her hand to Stephanie. "Phyllis Baxter, School Guidance and Adjustment Counselor."
"It's a pleasure. Mrs. Pelham was just telling me about your odd situation."
"It's Edith, please," Edith said. "We don't stand on ceremony around here, I'm afraid - only the students call me Mrs. Pelham."
Stephanie smiled. "Alright, then."
"That situation is why I'm here," Phyllis said to Edith. "Well, sort of. But I just came from Joseph's room; it appears that Mr. Bruce just arrived. He said he'd be down in a moment to see you."
"Joseph Molesley is the other third-grade teacher," Edith explained to Stephanie. "And Mr. Bruce is our other building sub. We usually use him for the upper grades but I managed to fit him in for Sarah today. You'd be working directly with Joseph should you choose to accept your mission," she added with a smirk.
Stephanie took a deep breath. "Well, I'm up for just about anything. I really need a job, and there's not much to tie me back to home, I'm afraid."
Edith saw a sadness in the young woman's eyes and nodded. "Well," she said softly, "I can certainly relate to that. The position we need the sub for is Social Studies and English/Language Arts. You mentioned you'd focused your studies on those areas, is that right?"
"Yes, although I can get by fairly well in the other subjects, too."
"Excellent." Edith went to her file cabinet and pulled out a few papers.
"This is the paperwork you'll need to fill out if you'd like to work here - tax form, some bits about your identification, criminal records check. You can return it all to me and I'll get everything filed with the Town Clerk's office."
"Thank you," Stephanie said, taking them and flipping through them all. "I have a copy of my personnel file from the school I was working in previously," she added, pulling a file from her bag and handing it to Edith. "You can keep that if you need it; all the references are in there, and there's a copy of my CV, too."
"Excellent!"
Stephanie stood and shook Edith's hand. "I can start tomorrow, then? If you need me?"
"We'll need you," Phyllis supplied, nodding when Edith quirked an eyebrow her way.
"I guess we'll see you tomorrow," Edith said, and Stephanie smiled gratefully and nodded. "If you give me a minute to catch up with Phyllis, I'll get you the names of a few places you can check out if you need somewhere to stay."
"That would be wonderful," Stephanie said. "I'll just fill the paperwork out while I'm waiting, then. I am staying with my friend for the time being, but it's forty minutes away."
"Well, we can't have that," Edith smiled.
"Welcome to Misty Cove," Phyllis added. "You'll like it here, I think. All recent events aside, it's a lovely place to be."
Recent events? Stephanie thought.
Edith saw her confusion. "One of our town businesses burned down two nights ago, and two people were found dead inside," she said bluntly. "There's been an investigation, and the children have been nervous about it all."
"Well, then," Stephanie said understandingly, "it looks like I'd better plan a fun first-day activity, huh?"
"That," Edith said with a smile, "would be amazing."
Stephanie closed the door behind her and Phyllis plopped down in a chair at the table.
"We might have a problem," Phyllis said bluntly. "I just got off the phone with Elsie."
"Oh?"
"You'd better sit down," Phyllis added, and she waited for Edith to comply.
"Alright … I'm sitting."
Phyllis took a deep breath. "I called Tommy Barrow's father yesterday, after school," she began. "You'd already left, and I had to follow up on a few things before we talked, but now I think you need to be filled in."
"Alright," Edith said hesitantly. "What's this to do with Elsie?"
"I'll get there in a minute. So, Mr. Barrow claims he's not really Tommy's father. He also claims that his wife was your brother-in-law's sister, and that Richard was blackmailing her about the fact that Tommy was fathered by another man."
"What?!"
"Not only that, he was quite clear about how he is relinquishing responsibility for Tommy's well-being, effective immediately, and he employed a few choice phrases that I can't repeat because they made me physically ill."
Edith sat back abruptly in her chair. "Shit," she said softly. "I always wondered about that."
"About Mrs. Barrow and Richard being siblings?" Phyllis asked, astonished.
"No, not that," Edith said. "That is quite the shock, if it's even true at all. No, I meant about Tommy's parentage. There were rumors being bandied about once, regarding his father … I don't recall where they came from, but I chalked them up to some mean childhood retaliation from the children Tommy was picking on at the time. I don't know how the kids would ever even know that, but it does lend a bit of credibility to the claim."
"Well, I'm more inclined to think it's just a very odd coincidence. Mr. Barrow did say that no one knew, and that he was sure he'd shocked me. They moved to town when his wife was pregnant, according to Elsie, and so I assume no one will ever know the biological father's true identity. But Mr. Barrow did hang around the local a lot - who knows what he may have said? And that brings me to the main issue we have here: if Laura Barrow did, indeed, perish in that fire - which is looking more and more likely because I cannot conceive of any world in which she'd have abandoned her son willingly - then Tommy Barrow is in need of a foster care placement."
"Oh, my God, I'd forgotten about that," Edith said. "Elsie, of course. Only ..."
"Yes," Phyllis nodded. "Elsie. Only it's not just Elsie now, which means we need to work very swiftly … and also very carefully."
"She gave up on the idea of adoption ages ago," Edith said sadly. "She let everything expire, didn't she?"
"She did. She can go online and do the course work to renew her certification … and Charles is willing to do the full training as well. Technically he hasn't changed his legal residency address to the farm yet, so that's sort of a 'don't ask, don't tell' loophole for the moment. I certainly won't be mentioning it until he's gone through the full training."
"Good," Edith nodded. "That's good. I wasn't sure that she'd told him about being a foster parent, actually."
"She hadn't, but please keep that to yourself. I'm only telling you that because I know you two are close and because she said I could. But he knows now, although Daisy does not. Not yet, anyhow … not as of this morning."
"Got it," Edith nodded. "So, as far as we know, Richard Carlisle and Laura Barrow are the most likely people to have perished in that fire? Because I've got to tell you, I was worried one of them might be Sarah O'Brien. Where in the hell do you think she is? Any ideas?"
Phyllis licked her lips. "Elsie got a letter in the mail from her yesterday. Local postmark, meaning Sarah must have mailed it on Sunday or even yesterday - same day mail around here, always."
"She what? Why on Earth would Sarah send Elsie anything in the mail? She hates her!"
"Exactly. It was … well, odd. And frightening. And threatening." She took a deep breath and forged ahead. "Edith, have you considered at all that perhaps the arsonist who burned down the newspaper may have been Sarah?"
Edith's eyes widened and a chill ran down her spine. "Oh, my God," she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips. "Is that what you think?"
Phyllis nodded slowly. "Yes, actually … I do. Because I think a whole host of people besides Laura Barrow were being blackmailed by Richard, and I think Sarah may have been one of them. Don't ask me why I think that, but Chief Vyner has been told that as well. So we have a very precarious situation on our hands, Edith, and we need to play this very, very cautiously.
"If Tommy Barrow is essentially an orphan, he will need to be remanded to foster care. We have to hope and pray that it takes at least another day for Vyner to get DNA results back on the fire victims. Once he realizes that Laura Barrow died in the fire, and I'm convinced that she did, then I can drag my heels for maybe three days regarding having Tommy pulled from the Kents' place and remanded to the system. I have friends at Child and Family Services, and I could probably drag it out longer, but I know Vyner will demand that Tommy's father come to fetch him and I'll need to explain why he's not doing that."
"And he knows the rules, too. Poor Tommy," Edith said sadly.
"Exactly. So I can probably make that take a day, as long as Vyner doesn't insist on calling Mr. Barrow himself. I doubt he will, though … not if I'll do it for him."
Edith nodded.
"I think it'll take three days for Elsie to recertify," Phyllis continued. "The online course is thirty hours but it's self-guided; she can probably finish it in twenty-four, but that's still eight a day if she works like a dog. So what I need is your unofficial permission to take a couple of days processing all of Tommy's paperwork; otherwise, he gets sent out of town to the next registered home on the list about a day before Elsie can officially be approved to take Tommy in. Once her coursework is done she'll print a certificate, which I'll personally bring down to CFS myself in order to expedite the approval as an emergency placement."
Edith nodded immediately. "Do you what you have to do, Phyllis; in fact, if those DNA results come back sooner rather than later, and you have to process all of that paperwork from here in your office … perhaps you might be, ahem, out sick?"
Phyllis smiled. "I think my throat is scratchy, now that you mention it," she winked. "Edith? Thank you."
"No problem," Edith said. "We have to do right by that boy, and I do think that even Vyner would understand that. And believe me when I say this: if Tommy Barrow needs a home, well … you can't get much better than Charles and Elsie's, can you?"
Elsie spent all of Wednesday morning and the early afternoon working on her recertification course. She needed thirty hours total, but the self-paced, online program was moving along faster than she'd anticipated.
Six hours done today already, she sighed, reaching for her tea. Thank goodness.
Her feelings were still a bit shaky after her discussion with Charles last night but sleeping with his hand in hers had certainly helped matters. She felt that they'd crossed some gaping chasm and had come out safely at the other side, and she knew that anything else they had to share with one another about their past would come about in time.
She got up from her chair and stretched, still sore despite having taken frequent breaks throughout the morning. Elsie knew she'd overdone it with Charles yesterday, but the reward had been so wonderful. She'd warned him that they certainly couldn't be that active every day, but she felt it had been worth every ache and sore muscle that she had today to have been able to steal away those hours with him; after their argument last night, she was even happier that the earlier part of the day had served to reaffirm their closeness and love.
The phone rang, startling her from her musings.
"Hello?"
"Elsie?"
"Mary," she said, surprised. "Hello. How are you holding up?"
"Pretty well, all things considered," Mary said. "Listen, might I come over tonight? I tried Uncle Charlie but he didn't answer. I … I have some things I need to talk to you both about."
"No, he's out at the store and probably didn't hear his phone," she said. "And of course you can come over. Why don't you have dinner with us?"
Mary hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure, Mary," Elsie said firmly. "I'd not have invited you otherwise. How's five o'clock? It'll give you some time to visit with Daisy before we eat; she'll be thrilled to see you."
"Sounds good. See you then, Elsie - and thank you."
"Anytime," Elsie replied. She hung up and then opened her texting app.
Mary's joining us for dinner - can you pick up extra?
It took him a while to reply, but after about five minutes she got one:
Wondered why she called. Sure thing. Got a cake from Beryl's place, too.
Elsie couldn't help but laugh.
Good - can't have us wasting away. ;) x
Charles arrived home from the store just after two o'clock ... to find Elsie asleep in bed, the laptop open beside her. He moved to his chair by the bed and sat down gently before taking a few deep breaths to relax as he watched her doze. He'd have to leave in another forty-five minutes to get Daisy; otherwise, he just might have climbed in and fallen asleep beside Elsie.
He allowed the events from the last couple of weeks to wash over him, processing each in his mind before letting it go to make room for the next one.
It felt to him as though Elsie's PT had been months ago instead of just two weeks previous. He smiled as he recalled her daily spats with Denker, but was pleased that Elsie had been so fired up; it had helped her to get control faster, to feel in control over her own body, something he knew she'd been missing since falling from Star. It made him more aware than ever that she was a woman who needed to be in control of her life and that giving that control over to others had been very difficult for her, indeed.
And yet she did it for you, he reminded himself. She gave herself over to you, and that's no small thing, Charlie ol' boy.
He moved through the images in his head that came after that: the ring, the ways in which he could help out at the farm, planning a holiday dinner and carrying it off. He thought back to how she'd relinquished control of the table settings in favor of organizing the meal, and how well they worked together to pull the afternoon off, how seamless it had been.
Anna and John, getting married - that had been something. It had made him wish he and Elsie had chosen to do the same, and yet he knew she wanted a ceremony of sorts that Becky could be part of, something that Daisy could perhaps be part of … And Tommy, now? How does that work?
Tommy Barrow. Charles let his mind settle there for a bit, on that elephant that was residing in his mind. Mary's nephew, perhaps … most likely. Who'd have ever thought? Certainly not Charles, nor Elsie - he knew that she'd been stunned by the suggestion of it. Mary was in no place to care for a child, and Charles didn't even think she wanted to be a parent, not really. He was pretty sure it wouldn't even be allowed now that she'd made a deal with the police and would be placed on official probation. He wasn't sure, but it seemed to Charles that someone with that kind of record wouldn't be seen as a fit foster placement.
And that leaves us, he thought. He freely admitted to himself that he was frightened about the idea of taking Tommy in, at least in some ways. It was Elsie who had the closer relationship with the boy, and Elsie who seemed to know what made Tommy tick. Charles had always had a strained relationship during the best of days with his own father, and it had gotten worse the older he'd gotten; eventually they'd arrived at a day where they no longer spoke at all.
So what on Earth makes you think you have anything to offer the boy, hm? You don't exactly know how to go about raising a young man, do you? Except, perhaps, what not to do.
He remembered Elsie saying how, between them, they knew what it was like to be Tommy Barrow, and Charles wasn't sure now if that would actually serve him well. He and Elsie would have to address that, too; he knew some of her past, but not the details of exactly how it had been for her, and he wondered if having Tommy around permanently would even be a good thing for her.
But we're going to go ahead with it, he thought. Because it IS the right thing to do, to keep him here in a familiar place, among friends and what little he has, as opposed to making him abandon it all.
Unless he wants to leave.
The thought hit him so suddenly that he gasped aloud. He wondered why he'd never considered it before, really. What if Tommy didn't want to stay in Misty Cove? Would it be too much of a reminder? Would it be another way in which he and Elsie could relate to the boy, this need to abandon the place of bad memories in favor of a fresh start?
The feeling made him sad, and he was surprised by it … for, as uncomfortable as he was with the idea of taking Tommy in, as uncertain as he was that he'd be able to be a good father figure for the boy, the feeling that they'd lose him and perhaps never see him again was somehow worse.
"Charlie?" Elsie's sleepy voice sounded from across the bed, and he snapped his head up to see her, wiping his eyes as he realized they were a bit damp.
"Are you alright, love? What is it?" She patted the mattress beside her, beckoning him to join her.
He readily complied, climbing up and moving the laptop to the chair before tucking himself on his side and clasping her hand, resting their hands on her stomach and caressing the back of hers with his thumb.
"I'm not sure," he said. "I feel as though … I can't explain it, really. It's as though everything is in a state of … flux. Like a shaking of the ground; I can't get my footing before something else pops up."
Elsie watched him as she stared at some spot on the wall behind her.
"Charlie?" she asked softly. "What are you afraid of?"
He drew his eyes back to hers and shook his head. "I don't know. Not entirely. Mostly that I won't be a good father figure for Tommy. But I'm also afraid that I can't be there for Mary, not in the way she needs me to be. I worry that I'm ignoring Daisy because of everything, not spending enough time with her." He licked his lips, unsure … afraid. "And that I won't be a good enough husband to you," he whispered.
"Oh, Charlie," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. "You can't be in charge of us all, you know. It's not your responsibility to see that everyone is as happy as can be."
"I know that," he admitted, "but I don't like it."
"But isn't it why we're a team, you and I? Because when one of us stumbles and falls, the other can pick up the pieces, help us to heal and move on? And when one of us is afraid, the other can offer encouragement and support? This marriage we're going to have, this family - in whatever shape it ends up taking - is going to be hard work. Marriage should be hard work, though, I think. It makes us appreciate it more."
She bit her lip, searching for the right words. "Sometimes I think we didn't come together in the right way, you and I. Not in the beginning," she clarified, seeing the worry written on his face, "but I feel as though you were thrown into this whole living arrangement out of a sense of obligation, of guilt … out of the knowledge that I needed caring for and that you had to be the chivalrous man and step up and provide it. And I don't mean that I wish you hadn't, but that it worries me that it rushed you in ways you'd not have rushed otherwise."
"It was a bit fast," he admitted. "I mean, we'd discussed living together, and I think we had an understanding that this is where we'd end up. But once we were staying here regularly, I suddenly felt like I wasn't cut out to handle it all. Not good enough to help here, with the farm … not cut out to be a nursemaid, either," he smirked. "But we've done alright, I realize that."
"I'd say we've done more than alright," she said, smiling softly.
"But now … this entire thing with the fire, with the blackmail … Becky, Tommy, Mary …" he trailed off.
"You can't be everything for Mary, Charlie. She's an adult, one who needs to get back on her own two feet and make something of her life herself. And I know you want to fix it all up neatly with a tight bow for her, but you can't.
"That young woman is so capable, Charlie, and so determined. She'll be alright. She needs you - us, perhaps - to just be there in the background. She'll need your shoulder to cry on, but she needs to not be dependent on you for everything. She wasn't like that before you got here, I don't imagine."
"No, she wasn't. But when she was younger we were very, very close."
"Then be close, but don't try to fix her life."
He nodded, knowing what she had to say was true.
"Now," she added, brushing his arm with her fingers, "about this 'not being a good enough husband' nonsense …"
He smiled sadly. "I do worry about that - every day. I tried so hard to be a good husband the last time, and it all went to hell anyway. I don't mean that this is the same at all, but … well, I can't explain it. But last night …" He captured her fingers in his hand. "I don't like it when I feel like we're not on the same side."
"We're different people, Charles … and we can't always agree. You can't go around being afraid you'll upset me, and I can't go around being afraid to trust you. We're still learning how to be together, you and I, in many ways."
"And here we are, rushing into marriage."
She raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather wait?"
"No, not at all," he replied. "Would you?"
Elsie shook her head. "Not on your life, buster."
"You're sure?"
"I cannot imagine living one day without you in my life," she said, her voice catching. "Knowing that, why would I ever not want to be your wife as soon as possible?"
"No one has ever loved me like you," he said again. "I think it's taking me a while to accept that."
"Well," she said, tucking herself closer to him and placing a kiss to his chest, "you have a lifetime to get used to it."
Charles pulled the chicken from the oven and set it to rest on the stovetop as Elsie put the finishing touches on dessert.
"That looks beautiful," he murmured as he rested his hand on the small of her back.
"Thank you." She sprinkled the last few touches of chocolate on the top of the cream. "French silk - a bit of a time-consuming thing, but well worth it, I think."
"It's chocolate, isn't it?" he teased. "How's your back? You spent quite a long day staring at a computer."
"It's alright," she said, nodding. "A bit sore, but well worth the time spent."
"How many hours did you get in?"
"Eight and a half, I think, and then I gave up. But I am over a third of the way through. I'm a fast reader; it helps a lot," she said.
Charles tilted his head toward Daisy's room. "Should we interrupt them, tell them dinner's almost ready?"
"No. Wait until we've got it out on the table, I think. I'm guessing a little time spent with her favorite niece is doing Mary a world of good."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Marigold is her niece, too."
"I know. But Mary seems to have a special connection with Daisy - no doubt because she's your child and not Edith's," she smirked. "And I don't mean anything negative by that."
She sighed and looked at Daisy's closed bedroom door. "I think Mary needs a bright spot like Daisy right about now."
"She probably does," he agreed, leaning in front of Elsie to kiss her sweetly. "Don't we all?"
She nodded slowly. "She said she has to talk to us, though. I'm guessing she has information for us, and I'm sure it's only going to confirm our suspicions. How do we tell Daisy about all this, Charles?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I know Mary won't discuss it in front of her. Maybe we can tell her in the morning? Only if the bodies were identified, though. I don't want her worrying unnecessarily if it's someone she doesn't even know."
"You think we should tell her right before school? Is that such a good idea?"
"Better than waking her up later to do it," he reasoned. "If our suspicions are correct, if they're confirmed, I don't want her going to school not knowing … and I certainly don't want her finding out there."
"True," Elsie acknowledged. "Alright, you get the food set out, and I'll fetch the girls."
"Now you're talking," he replied, reaching a finger to swipe at the cream atop the pie.
But Elsie saw him out of the corner of her eye and swatted his hand away.
"Don't. Touch. It."
Daisy showered and headed to bed after dinner, with Charles tucking her in as Mary helped Elsie with the last of the dishes.
"Shouldn't you not be doing all of that?" Mary asked as Elsie reached to put away a glass in the cupboard.
"Probably not," she admitted, "but I don't think I can spend any more days lying down in that bed."
"Well, don't overdo it," Mary advised, "or you'll be stuck in that bed for longer than you would be now, and Charlie will drive you crazy with the 'I told you so' routine."
Elsie laughed. "Tell me about it!"
"About what?" Charles asked as he came back into the kitchen. "Elsie Hughes! Don't you dare bend to put that baking dish away," he added, shooing her away from the cupboards. "You know better."
"So I hear," she grumbled, but she acquiesced and moved out of the kitchen, choosing to sit at the counter and watch them. "Daisy is sleeping?" she asked quietly.
"She will be soon," he said. "I suggest that we move our conversation down to the sun room, though. We can close the door and not disturb her. I left Max in there with her," he added to Elsie. "I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," she smiled. "I never see him anymore when she's in bed; he's always with her now. You left her door open a crack though, yes?"
Charles nodded.
"Good," she said. "Alright, you get the wine and Mary can bring the glasses; it's a bit chilly down there, I'll start the fire."
"Should you be doing that?" Mary asked.
"Gas stove," Elsie laughed. "Push-button start. I think your uncle might let me manage that."
Charles chose a bottle of wine and opened it, then he and Mary joined Elsie down in the sun room.
"Oh, this is lovely," Mary murmured, looking out the glass wall to the pond beyond. "What a beautiful view."
The moon had crested the treetops and its light was reflected in the pond's faint ripples.
"It is. I love being out here at night. It used to make me a bit nervous, truth be told, but now I just find it peaceful," Elsie said.
"Peaceful is good," Mary said sadly, nodding slowly.
Charles and Elsie exchanged a look as Mary continued to stare out.
Is she alright?
I think so. Not sure.
Mary turned then, taking a seat by the stove. She took a sip of wine, then twisted the stem of the glass between her fingers as she looked in at the deep red liquid.
"It was Richard," she whispered. "In the fire. DNA came back a few hours ago." She raised her head and looked at Elsie. "Just before I called you."
Elsie nodded. "I expected as much."
"And the woman?" Charles asked.
Mary nodded. "It was Laura Barrow. They got something from their house to test - a hairbrush or some such thing, I think. Vyner wouldn't tell me anything, but Detective Willis was rather helpful when I asked."
"Yes, he would be," Elsie said softly. "He's rather more … human."
Mary barked out a harsh laugh. "Yes, that's a good way to put it."
"And the other testing?"
"That will take longer," Mary said. "They're sending it out of state, I think, and it could take a couple of weeks. But the files that Richard had - if they can be believed, which I am sure they can - are all we need. The testing is a formality; it appears that Mrs. Barrow was, in fact, Richard's half-sister."
Charles exhaled loudly and sat back in his seat. "My God."
"He had a copy of her birth certificate scanned onto the flash drive," Mary added. "I never even saw that until I read it all before turning it over to Vyner … there was no hard copy that I ever saw. And I didn't want to mention it last night - it was too much. I can't imagine the document is a forgery, though - there's no reason why he'd bother with that at all. They had the same father, although her birth name was that of her mother. I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that her being in Misty Cove is what drew him to the town. She'd been in the area most of her life. Used to be a bartender, ironically."
"And privy to half the town's secrets, then," Elsie said, beginning to understand. "And so he set himself up here, started up a business, and expected her to feed him information. In exchange for … what? What was in it for her? Certainly her parentage wasn't something to hold over her?" Although Mr. Barrow seemed to think it was, she reminded herself, recalling what Phyllis had told her.
"No," Mary said, shaking her head. "At first, I think it was an amicable relationship. Richard owns the Barrow house - something else about which I was never aware until last night. I think he must have let them live there rent-free for a time; in exchange, she provided him with information."
Mary paused and swallowed the last of her wine in two gulps, then reached for the bottle and refilled her glass quickly. Charles raised an eyebrow at Elsie, but she shook her head slightly: No, don't say it.
As Mary started on her second glass, she seemed to be struggling with something.
"What is it, Mary?" Elsie asked gently. "I mean, you don't have to tell us. Or perhaps you'd rather just tell Charlie?"
"No," Mary said, shaking her head. "You're the one who likely knows anyway …"
Elsie's brow furrowed. "Alright."
Mary met her gaze, clearly reining in some sort of emotion. "There were … photos. On the flash drive. Of Laura, after …"
Elsie closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lips, nodding. "Of course," she whispered. "After her husband had beaten her?"
Charles gasped, looking from Elsie to Mary and back again to Elsie. "Wait …"
But Elsie put her hand up to silence him and opened her eyes to meet Mary's once again. "How many?"
"Dozens," Mary said, the disgust clear on her face. "They're dated, starting about ten years ago from what I could tell. I … I couldn't keep looking at them. I couldn't … I couldn't believe he would have those."
"Did he steal them from the police?" Charles asked. "Or maybe from someone at the hospital?"
"She was never seen at the hospital," Elsie said lowly. "The few times the authorities were ever called - by the neighbors, mind you, because of the noise - she declined medical attention."
"Uncle Charlie?"
Elsie turned to see Charles with his hand over his face, completely overwhelmed by what he was hearing. She reached across the loveseat and took his other hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.
"I didn't know," he said quietly. "You never said."
"No. I couldn't," Elsie said. "That one wasn't my secret to share," she added meaningfully.
"That poor woman," he whispered, and Elsie squeezed his hand again.
"And Richard was exploiting her," Mary said, a sickened look on her face. "From what I can gather, he was manipulating her somehow. Mind games, which he was so very good at." She sipped her wine again, and Elsie could tell the younger woman was about at her threshold for discomfort. "I'm sure he let her know how sickening of a woman she was, how weak she was. I'm sure that he kept her under his thumb quite well." Another pause. "I'm sure he took those photos. I think she'd call him for help, and he would document it, maybe even lie and say they were going to be used to get her help."
"And once she became an alcoholic herself, it would have been even easier to manipulate her," Elsie said. "She was banned from the local; he was supplying her with alcohol - that I do know."
"How do you know that?" Mary asked, but Elsie just shook her head. "Well, I know he started charging the Barrows rent three and a half years ago, because he had receipts for it all in her physical file." She looked at Charles. "The one you saw."
"Yes, but I never looked in it, thank God."
"Well, of course I can't prove any of that now," Mary said. "Which is probably good for me, as it would only look like I was involved."
"Which clearly you were not," Charles said emphatically.
"No - they've at least proven that Richard and Laura died because of the fire, and that they weren't already dead when it was started."
"Mary," Elsie ventured, "have you thought about what else this means? For you?"
"I have," she said quietly. "It means Tommy Barrow is my nephew. I don't know that I've even met the boy more than a few times. Funny, that, given that I know now he would often run money down to Richard, and occasionally deliver information from Laura as well."
"He brought information to Richard?" Charles asked, horrified.
"Oh, I doubt he knew what was in it," Elsie said softly. "Envelopes, probably; I'm sure his mother told him there was rent money in them and to give them over without asking questions. No, I doubt very much that Tommy was involved in anything like that."
"He was supposed to provide information about you, Elsie," Mary said. "Richard had a note about that, from a few months ago. Isn't that when he started working around here?"
"It is," Elsie whispered, licking her lip.
"Well, he never did provide any, not from what I saw," Mary assured her. "It appears Richard was rather upset with Laura about that, too, from notations I found in his journal. He was a fool to record all of that, but I'm very glad he did."
"Wait," Charles said, putting his hand up as he tried to keep up, "why would Richard want information about Elsie?"
"Of course," Elsie breathed, closing her eyes briefly as it clicked in her head. "Because of Sarah."
"Sarah?"
Elsie nodded. "Think about it," she said. "What if she knew he was blackmailing everyone in town? She certainly had a connection with him; how else would he have gotten that information about Becky? And she sent that hideous letter, which permanently connected her to Richard. She was foolish to write it in her own hand, too, because I can find any number of things at work to prove that she did, in fact, write it herself."
"Sarah O'Brien?" Mary asked, just to be sure.
"Yes," Elsie nodded, and she and Mary connected their gazes once again, understanding at last what could have happened. "You heard them, didn't you? At the church."
"I did," Mary admitted, "and you saw them. Did you hear any of it?"
"Not really. But, given recent circumstances, I'm guessing she threatened him?"
"She did," Mary nodded.
"Elsie? Are you suggesting that Sarah O'Brien burned down the newspaper?" Charles murmured, horrified.
He looked from Elsie to Mary, who nodded.
"Yes, Uncle Charlie," she said. "That's exactly what she's suggesting. And I think she's right."
Elsie got up and retrieved the letter, then took out her cell phone and dialed the police station.
"Officer Willis, please," she said to the person who answered the phone. She paused, then, "David? It's Elsie Hughes … Yes, I have something I need you to see … It's a letter - from Sarah O'Brien … Yes, that's right … Oh! Don't bother; she's here with us … Alright, we'll see you soon."
She hung up and looked at Charles and Mary. "He's on his way over here now," she said. "They got the rest of the DNA results back; someone finagled a rush on them - some friend of the DA, evidently. They confirmed what you already figured out, Mary: Richard and Laura were, indeed, biologically related."
"So why does he need to see me?" Mary asked.
"I presume he'd like access to the Barrow home," Elsie said softly.
"Which I now own," Mary said, shaking her head sadly.
"Which you now own," Elsie confirmed, looking at Charles.
Officer Willis arrived twenty minutes later, and Elsie and Charles left him to talk with Mary. They stood at the sink silently, side by side, washing the wine glasses and putting them away.
When they were finished, Charles turned to Elsie and drew her into his arms gently.
"You need to sleep," he whispered.
"I do," she agreed. "And so do you. It's been quite a night for you, love."
"It's just … it's a lot," he admitted. "To think that Mary was with that despicable man for so long. I mean, I knew he was awful, but … well, I didn't realize quite how evil he could be. If he hurt her …"
"Shh. Charlie, don't," she murmured. "I don't think he was quite that way with Mary. Manipulative and holding that horrid night over her head, yes; but he knew her, must have seen how strong she could be. I don't think he'd have crossed that line. Even the night we interrupted them at Robert and Cora's house … I can't explain it, but I didn't get the sense that Richard was often violent with Mary. Not more that what I saw, anyhow."
They heard Willis and Mary come up the stairs and broke apart a bit, but Charles kept his arm wrapped around Elsie's waist.
"I'm going home, I think," Mary said, retrieving her purse from the chair. "Thank you for dinner, and for letting me spend some time with Daisy," she added, smiling fondly as she thought about her niece.
"What did you all get up to?" Charles enquired, curious.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mary smirked, winking at Elsie, who just shook her head and chuckled.
"Elsie, thanks for this," Willis said, holding up the bag with the letter in it. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. We'll get an all-points out on her as soon as I get back to the station."
"You're welcome. Say hi to the family."
"When are you back at work? The kids miss you," he said seriously. "That new guy …"
"He's very capable," Elsie laughed, "but perhaps not one for small children. Still, though, at least I know they're being cared for. And I should be back at the end of the month."
"Well," he said, tipping his hat at her, "thanks again."
Mary kissed Charles on the cheek and leaned over to a rather surprised Elsie for a half-hug.
"Thank you both again," she said softly, and she grabbed her coat and headed out with Officer Willis. "Good night."
Charles stood behind Elsie and rested his chin on her head as they watched the cars drive away.
"Shower?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Definitely," she answered, turning to smile at him before pulling him down for a soft, deep kiss. "And then sleep. Lots and lots of sleep."
Please do continue to review and let me know what you think. I swear that after Chapter 42 we'll move onto a different week in my timeline.
Shout-out to dillydallyy, who is the model for the new character introduced here. Wish I could really get her job in Misty Cove. You can see her heading into town on my tumblr, thanks to her GIF-making skills
YOU GUYS! The lists! The requests! People who want Tommy to be not only fostered but adopted by Chelsie! People who resolutely do NOT want that to happen! People who want a baby, don't want a baby, or are convinced Elsie is already pregnant. People who want to see Sarah O'Brien hit by a lorry! And then there are the people who have a burning desire to see the wedding happen and to find out the identity of Tommy's real father. In the style of JF, I can tell you up front that not everything will be resolved neatly, because that's the way things happen in real life, and obviously not everyone will be happy with how things do go. I don't apologize for not changing my main plans for this story, but I am sorry if it's not what you will want to happen. I am well aware that I can't please all of the people all the time, but I think that's what keeps it interesting.
*Long-term substitutes are subs (in New England, anyhow) who take over one teacher's job for more than twelve consecutive weeks. Once they reach that status, they are paid entry-level teacher salary instead of a daily substitute teacher rate, and the pay is usually retroactive to the date when they took over the job. Building subs, on the other hand, are subs who show up at the same school every day and fill in wherever needed.