A/N: The memorial service here is held at Misty Cove Congregational. I'm a Unitarian, not a Congregationalist, so to avoid making a mess out of it we're just focusing on the parts that involve Tommy directly. The song that will be sung as part of the memorial is on my Spotify, on the playlist "After the Fall."
If you're into the feels, listen to the song on Spotify or YouTube when you get to that part of the chapter. It's more moving that way. The title is "You Can Close Your Eyes," and it's sung by James Taylor (on YouTube, lol, not here).
On an unrelated note, there are faint hints here about Tommy (and others) beginning to question his sexuality. I'm sorry if that seems to be a bit early to any readers - sixth grade, almost seventh - but, as someone who works with adolescents, I can assure you that it isn't.
xx
CSotA
Friday, April 24, 2015
Elsie got a call from Edith midway through Friday morning.
"Edith! How are you?"
"I'm alright, thanks. But Tommy's not. He got in a fight in the cafeteria at breakfast, and I'm sending him home. I know he's going through quite a lot, Els, but I have to suspend him for two days."
"He what? With whom?"
"One of the kids in eighth, actually. Philip Crowborough. Wouldn't tell me what it was about, though."
"Well," Elsie said, pursing her lips, "Philip is a troublemaker, no question about it. Who instigated it?"
"Not sure. Tommy wouldn't say anything beyond a few choice words about the boy. I gather they have some sort of history, but I have no idea what it is. Tommy refused to answer most of my questions, and I didn't want to press him."
"Alright. Charles is in the shower; when he gets out, I'll send him right down to pick Tommy up."
"That's fine. I know the service is tomorrow, and we'll see you there. I'm sorry, Elsie, but I had no choice."
"No, I understand. Don't be sorry. He needs to understand that there are rules to be followed. It's an awful time for him, but that can't excuse this type of thing. We'll talk to him."
"Thanks. I'll have Tommy in my office when Charlie gets here, and will have him get his work, too."
"Great. See you tomorrow, Edith."
"Bye."
Elsie clicked off the phone and tossed it across the sofa, frustrated.
Welcome to parenting a teenager, she thought, rubbing the heels of her hands against her forehead. She had a pretty good idea what Tommy and Philip had been fighting about, too … but that was a bridge their little family wouldn't be crossing over in the next week.
Tommy had come home and headed immediately into his room, shutting the door behind him and plopping down on the bed. Elsie walked away from his bedroom door and grabbed Charles gently by the elbow, taking him with her as she made her way down to the sunroom.
"Are you just going to let him hide in there?" he whispered angrily. "Elsie, this kind of behavior cannot happen!"
"You just sit and take some deep breaths and calm down," she insisted, waving a hand at him when he was about to protest. "No," she added emphatically. "Pour the tea. Please."
He looked at the tray she'd indicated but pursed his lips, adding the milk to her cup before pouring hers.
"We'll talk to him eventually," she acquiesced, sitting beside him on the loveseat. "I daresay you gave him enough of a talking-to in the car?"
He looked up at her raised eyebrow and met it with one of his own.
"I'll have you know that I didn't say one word about it in the car."
That took her by surprise. "Truly?"
Charles nodded. "I thought it would be good to give him space. I asked him if he wanted to talk about it; he declined. That was the end of our conversation."
"Well," Elsie said, taking the proffered teacup and sipping the hot liquid carefully, "good on you, my darling. Lesson number one of dealing with teenagers: give them their space."
He clinked his cup to hers and smirked. "I learn from the best," he quipped. "But we'll speak to him before dinner, correct?"
Elsie laughed. "It's not even lunchtime yet, Charlie. We'll get him then, hm?"
"Agreed."
As it happened, Tommy was somewhat more forthcoming at lunch. He didn't say much, but he did give up the information that he and Philip had experienced some sort of falling out after what Tommy had presumed was a decent friendship.
Elsie saw a very confused boy in front of her as he spoke, and she filed it away with her other suspicions surrounding Philip and Tommy's friendship.
Tommy looked up suddenly as he finished his sandwich. "Ten o'clock tomorrow, right? We'll be there at nine thirty?"
"Yes," Elsie confirmed, cocking her head as she looked at him. "What's the matter?"
"I'll need help with the necktie," he said quietly, looking embarrassed.
Elsie gave Charles a pointed look, forcing him to speak.
"Why don't I show you when we're done here," he said kindly. "I think you'll get it pretty quickly. It just takes practice."
"Okay … That's good ... Okay," Tommy said haltingly, nodding as if to affirm the feeling.
Elsie cleaned up the kitchen as Charles sent Tommy to grab his tie. They'd gone shopping for a suit two days previous, and Charles had been proud to have helped the boy pick out a nicely cut, navy blue suit with a soft blue necktie. They'd chosen a shirt and shoes to match, and while Tommy had been mortified to admit he had nothing appropriate to wear for the memorial service, that discomfort seemed to have been superseded by his desire to look his best as he bid a final farewell to his Mum.
"Shall I bring the shirt, too?" he called down the hall.
"Yes. Good idea," Charles replied.
As the light was much better and the mirror bigger, they'd gone into Elsie and Charles's room for the lesson. Tommy was looking around at the books on the shelf, smiling as he realized that Elsie really did, in fact, read quite a few horror novels. He'd have to see her about borrowing something for their trip to … wherever it was they were going. Charles still hadn't told them, wanting it to be a surprise for the kids.
Charles grabbed a necktie of his own from one of the hangers in the closet.
"How many of those things do you have?" Tommy asked incredulously, seeing the racks.
Charles laughed. "Over thirty," he admitted. "But I was an attorney - never liked to wear the same one more than once a month or so."
"That's mad," Tommy muttered, shaking his head.
"It probably is," Charles said, chuckling again. "Alright, here we go." He stood beside Tommy in front of the mirror and had him put the collared shirt on, showing him how to stand the collar up and wrap the tie around it.
"You don't want the ends even, because you'll be wrapping this one around the other," Charles said, picking up the wider end of the tie, "so you need that to hang down a bit more. You wrap it around like this, twice …"
Step by step, Charles showed Tommy what to do, proud of the boy's concentration as he followed each step precisely.
"Then you pull it through snugly, and you can adjust it here," Charles said, tightening his own knot and watching as Tommy did the same.
"Like this?" Tommy asked, rather happy with the fact that it didn't look like his tie had been done up by a three-year-old.
"Well done!" Charles praised, clapping him on the back. "That's nearly perfect. You're sure you've not done this before?"
"Positive," Tommy confirmed, "but I'm good with my hands, and I learn these types of things quickly. It's the school things that I have trouble with."
Charles hummed a bit and nodded. "Like the clock. I still can't thank you enough for showing me how to fix that and wind it properly. That was amazing."
"It was the least I could do," Tommy mumbled.
"Tommy," Charles said after a moment, unraveling his tie and indicating for Tommy to do the same, "you don't have to do anything special for Elsie or for me … You know that, don't you? I mean, we ask that you and Daisy both help out around the house and the farm, but you don't owe us anything extra."
Tommy's gaze bored a hole in the floor. "I don't know about that," he whispered. "You've done so much for me."
"And that is because we want to have you here," Charles said softly. "We like you, Tommy. You're a good lad and you show a lot of promise." He sighed, seeing he wasn't quite getting through. "We think you're worth doing things for … and we think that, with the right help and with people you can count on, you'll truly make something of yourself."
Tommy smiled sadly, wiping at his eyes. "Mum used to tell me that," he said, sniffling. "She was the only one who ever did. She believed in me, no matter what I ever did to upset or disappoint her."
"Well," Charles said with a small smile, "now you have us to remind you of it."
"And you really want me to live with you … be part of your family?" Tommy asked, for what must have been the hundredth time that week.
"We really do," Charles said honestly, holding out his hand. "I promise. And I don't lie. Not ever."
Tommy hesitated a moment, then shook Charles's hand. He almost gave the man a hug, but the handshake seemed a bit more formal in a way, a better symbol of a promise made and accepted.
"Okay."
Elsie had been watching them from the hallway, and she snuck back into the kitchen and wiped at her eyes with a tissue. Charles found her in the sunroom ten minutes later, standing by the window and looking out over the pond.
"The lesson is finished," he said as he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing the back of her head.
"So I heard," she said, her voice thick with emotion. She turned in his arms and placed a firm kiss to his lips. "You're perfect, do you know that?"
"Why?"
Elsie smiled at his furrowed brow and reached up to smooth it with her fingers.
"You're perfect for each other, you two. He's never had a decent, proper father, and you've never had a son to teach things to."
"He's hardly my son, Elsie," he sighed.
She smiled knowingly. "Well, perhaps one day."
"Perhaps," he allowed. "If this situation works for him, and if it's ever something he wants, then of course we could discuss making it more … permanent. But I don't mean to put the cart before the horse, and neither should you. For now, I think this needs to be a temporary arrangement, and we need to agree not to push Tommy into something he's not ready for, alright?"
"I promise," she said, eerily echoing his conversation with Tommy. It wasn't lost on Charles.
"You're a horrible spy," he joked.
"Well, that's quite nice, really ... isn't it?" she asked.
Tommy listened in on their conversation from where he stood in the kitchen. He'd just poured himself a glass of milk, and he didn't want them to know he was listening in. He knew he was already skating on thin ice after getting in a fight and being suspended two days from school, and he didn't want to give them another reason to be disappointed in him. But their conversation calmed him a bit. He'd spent so many years with his 'father' constantly telling him he wasn't wanted, that he wasn't good enough or wasn't going to amount to anything; it was strange hearing other people insist that he was those things.
It had been oddly comforting having Charles show him how to do up the tie properly. Tommy knew he'd mastered it, although he'd allow himself a bit of extra time in the morning just to be sure. But it had been the sound of the man's voice - patient, kind, instructing but not demeaning - that had struck Tommy; that, and watching Charles maneuver his huge hands to manage the task with slow, controlled movements. Tommy had looked at those hands and realized what damage they could do, and yet he was starting to understand that he didn't have to think in those terms anymore. Not here, and hopefully not anywhere ever again.
He drank down his milk, rinsed the glass, and put it in the dishwasher. Tiptoeing back to his room, he stole a glance down to the sunroom. Elsie and Charles were standing by the window and looking out, and Tommy saw Charles rubbing his hand softly over Elsie's shoulder. He smiled again at the comforting gesture, happy that he was safe here … in this home where it seemed that he was, indeed, wanted and liked for who he was.
He hung up his shirt and tie and pulled out the eulogy he'd written for his Mum. He'd insisted on speaking himself, knowing Mrs. Kent would never have been able to do it and that no one else in town really knew his Mum all that well. He crossed out a few words and added something to the end, then reread the entire thing. He managed to read it silently without crying, and then went back and read the whole thing in a whisper, tearing up once but managing to control it.
So far, so good, he thought, folding up the paper once again and tucking it into the mug. He set the items on his bedside table and dragged his backpack up onto the bed, opening it and pulling out his Humanities novel. He'd been sent home with assignments for all of his classes and figured he'd get them done now as he had nothing else to do. Elsie and Charles had been kind but fair about his suspension; seeing as how his television privileges had been revoked, and they weren't leaving on the trip Charles had planned until Sunday, he needed something to do to fill the boredom.
Might as well read, he said, opening his book and settling back against the pillows.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
The church was, quite unexpectedly, about three-quarters full when Tommy, Elsie, Charles, and Daisy took their seats in the front pew. Directly behind them were seated Julia and Jimmy Kent and, next to them, Mary Carlisle.
Charles spotted Andy at the front of the chapel and went to have a word. "Be right back," he said to Elsie, who nodded.
"Mr. Carson - sorry, Charles," Andy said, shaking the older man's hand. "How's everyone doing?"
"About as well as you'd expect," Charles replied quietly. "Listen, Andy, I need to ask you about a couple of things. Might you have some free time at the end of the week?"
"Sure. Does Friday work? I'm free all of that afternoon, actually." He hazarded a glance at Elsie, who was busy going over something with the minister. "I'm guessing one of the things you want to discuss is shiny, red, and parked at my place of employment?" he grinned.
"It is, as a matter of fact. But there's something else, too. I'll come by after lunch, then?"
"Sure thing," Andy replied.
Charles went back to his seat and noticed a curious glance from Tommy.
"Everything alright with the guitar?" the boy asked, and Charles nodded.
"I'm sure it is," he said. "He's just finishing tuning it now. It's a beauty, Tommy. What a lovely idea to ask him to play it for your Mum."
"She loved it," Tommy whispered. "Used to play it for me all the time before bed."
Just then, the piano music filtered through the sanctuary. Everyone took their seats, and Elsie reached over and squeezed Tommy's hand.
"Alright?" she whispered, and he nodded.
Charles watched with a keen eye as the service unfolded. He felt a certain responsibility to make sure it all went according to plan, despite the fact that Elsie, Tommy, and Julia Kent had been the ones to plan the thing. He realized after a few minutes of listening to the minister speak that it was his family he was most worried about: the effect the memorial service would have on Daisy, it being the second she'd attended in just over a week, both drastic reminders of losing Alice; the way Elsie was concerned about Tommy; the effect it would all have on Mary, who was still reeling over going through all of this with Richard; the way in which Tommy seemed to be reacting to what appeared to be almost half the town showing up at today's service, when only a scant few had been at Richard's. None of them had known Laura Barrow well at all; no, this was a testament to how much they cared for Tommy, and it had clearly flustered the young man who was trying so hard to hold it together and just make it through this day.
After the prayer and readings had been delivered, the minister nodded to Tommy. Charles noticed Tommy stiffen beside him, the fear emanating off of the boy in waves.
"Tommy," Charles rumbled, "look at me."
Tommy obeyed, looking Charles directly in the eyes.
"You can do this," Charles encouraged quietly. "You're well-prepared, and no one sitting in this church is better qualified to speak of your mother's virtues than you are. If you're nervous, it's perfectly alright. If you start to feel shaky, just look at me, Daisy, and Elsie, and we'll steady you ... I promise," he said meaningfully.
"Not a lie," Tommy whispered.
"Not a lie," Charles confirmed.
Tommy looked at Elsie, who smiled lovingly at him and nodded. He stood up, took the mug and the paper within it, and headed to the small pulpit off to the side of the altar. The minister helped him set the mug atop the lectern, ensuring it wouldn't topple over, and adjusted the microphone before taking his seat.
Tommy looked out over the sea of people before him: a few schoolmates; a lot of teachers, along with Miss Baxter and Mrs. Pelham; some people from the shops downtown; the Masons, the Bateses, and more. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced down at the table of photos that sat by the altar in lieu of a coffin (that was already at the graveside for the private burial, which would only be attended by Tommy, Elsie and Charles, Daisy, Mary, and Julia and Jimmy). The only photo visible to him from where he stood was the one that now resided on the shelf in his new room, and it made him smile. He looked at Charles, who nodded minutely, enabling Tommy to gather his courage and begin.
"Laura Barrow was my Mum, and she was just about the kindest woman on the planet. There are a lot of you here today. Thank you for coming. I think she'd be surprised at how many people are sitting out there, actually." There was a hint of amusement in his sadness as he said that, and a few people smiled up at him.
"I wanted to talk today because I realize that, except for Jimmy and Mrs. Kent, not many of you really knew my Mum. I thought I'd tell you some things about her, so that maybe when you leave you'll feel like you knew her a bit better.
"Mum was born August 25, 1984, in New Haven, Connecticut. Her parents moved there from England before she was born, because my Granddad got a job working at the New England Clock Company.* I didn't see him much growing up. I used to think it was because Mum was young when she had me, and it had upset him, but now I think it's just that the man who used to be my father didn't want him around."
Tommy heard an audible gasp and a murmur of confusion as he said that, but another glance at Charles fortified him. He realized he was doing what Charles and Elsie modeled all the time: telling the truth, no matter how difficult.
He continued, "Granddad taught me everything he knew about clocks, and the one he gave Mum when she was little is in my room now. It, along with the mug that you see here -" he said, pointing at the mug, "- are two of my favorite things. The guitar over there," he added, pointing to where Andy sat, the guitar on the stand by his feet, "is the other. They were Mum's favorite possessions, and now they're mine."
Tommy paused and took a deep breath before continuing.
"Mum had her problems, as I'm sure some of you know. Some people used to like to talk about her, and that's okay, because I think people always gossip about things they don't understand. I can promise you that the Laura you think you knew was not the one that I knew, or that Mrs. Kent knew."
Charles watched Tommy with a growing sense of pride in his chest; the boy was being so very brave, and Charles heard a whispered, "No, she wasn't … Good for you, Tommy," come from behind him. He reached over where Tommy had been sitting and grasped Elsie's hand, noting that she had her other arm around Daisy.
"The Laura Barrow that I knew was kind, quiet, and very smart. She used to read all the time, two or three books a week sometimes. She didn't work outside of the house, so she was always home when I needed her. I'm not really good at lots of stuff at school, but Mum was always able to help me with homework when I needed her to. She loved it when I got a new book in Humanities. No matter what it was, she would have already read it, and she'd remember a lot about the story and be able to help me when I had questions.
"We never had a lot of money, but when I was little I never felt like I was missing out on stuff. I had classmates who took nice vacations and went to far-away places, but we never did that. Still, we had our own things we did at home. We'd have campfires and make s'mores, or we'd go for walks in the woods or on the beach. Mum collected shells, and she'd always bring one back and say it would be to remind her of the nice day we'd had. She always made me feel special; even when she couldn't afford to get me much on my birthday, she'd always wake me up with a song and a huge hug, and she'd make me breakfast."
Charles saw Tommy's small nod in their direction, a silent acknowledgement of how Tommy's last birthday had been observed by his new family, too, before they really knew him; at the same time, he heard Daisy's small gasp, and a whispered, "Birthday breakfast," and his heart felt a pang when he saw Elsie lean over and place a kiss to his daughter's head, her arm squeezing Daisy tightly in a hug. He took his own deep, steadying breath and turned his attention back to Tommy.
"Mum loved music. She used to sing all the time, not just on my birthday. I think my first memory ever is of her sitting at the foot of my bed with that guitar," he said, pointing to it again, "singing the song that Mr. Parker is going to sing once I'm done talking. Mum used to sing me to sleep with it. When I was older, and we'd have a … well, a rough day, she'd sing it to me before bed then, too. It was our thing. A few of you might know it. If you do, you can sing along with him. I don't think Mum would mind." He almost lost control of his emotions then, and took a moment to stare at Charles; true to his promise, Charles stared right back, his body visibly moving as he breathed deeply and silently encouraged Tommy to do the same.
"Whenever I'd have a bad day," he continued, picking up the mug from the lectern, "Mum would make me cocoa. She'd bring it to me in this mug, which we got when I was five. We'd gone away with my Granddad for the day to the York Beach, and he'd bought it for her from a gift shop. It eventually became mine, in a way ... Well, it is now, I suppose."
Tommy looked out over the crowd again, and then he glanced down at the bit of writing he'd added only last night. He looked at Elsie, Daisy, Charles … and Mary.
"I never stopped to think of what would happen to me if Mum wasn't here to take care of me. I didn't know until recently that the man I thought of as my 'father' wasn't really my father at all. But I'm lucky. I have a family who wants to take care of me, and there are other kids out there who don't have that. Elsie and Charles, and Daisy … they've been kind to me, taking me in when others weren't able to do so. Between them and the Kents, and my new aunt, it's pretty special. I have a new place to call home, and while Mum can't be there with me in person, I know she'd have approved. She had a lot of respect for Elsie … for what she'd done in the past to try and help us out when we needed it."
Charles looked over at Elsie at the same time Tommy did, and he saw some silent understanding pass between them. It gave him a surge of pride, feeling once again how lucky he was to be marrying her.
"I'm in a place now that's kind, and calm, and sure," Tommy said. "I don't think Mum could have picked a better spot for me to stay if she'd tried, and I'm grateful, I really am. She was a kind, sweet, thoughtful woman, my Mum … and I'm going to miss her."
He gathered up his papers and the mug and carefully stepped down, nodding to Andy on his way by and then taking his seat.
"Well, done, my boy," Charles praised him. "Very well done."
Tommy nodded, and he looked to his right as Elsie handed him a handkerchief and gave him a soft smile. He noted that Daisy was crying softly, that Aunt Mary seemed to be a bit choked up behind where he sat, and that Mrs. Kent was silently sobbing.
The first notes of the song came across the strings of the guitar, followed soon after by Andy's voice:
Well the sun is surely sinking down
But the moon is slowly rising
So this old world must still be spinning 'round
And I still love you
So close your eyes
You can close your eyes, it's all right
I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
Oh, but I can sing this song
And you can sing this song when I'm gone ...
As Andy played, Charles began to listen to the people gathered behind him; a few were humming, and several joined in softly as Andy finished the song. By the last two verses, Elsie had joined in as well. Charles didn't think he could manage, however, choosing instead to remain as much a pillar of strength as he possibly could for his family.
It won't be long before another day
We gonna have a good time
And no one's gonna take that time away
You can stay as long as you like
So close your eyes
You can close your eyes, it's all right
Oh, I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
Yes, and you can sing this song when I'm gone.
Tommy was sobbing by the time Andy finished, but he didn't care anymore. He had Elsie's and Charles's arms around him, and Daisy had gone to sit on her father's lap at some point during the song; the soft sound of Elsie's singing registered somewhere in his mind. Tommy felt quite literally wrapped up in their love; it was a familiar feeling for him - similar to how he'd always felt when his Mum would hug him tightly and assure him everything would be alright. He believed her back then … and knew he could believe Charles as he was whispering those same words now; Charles had promised, and Tommy decided to simply believe him, to trust in someone as a father figure one last time, knowing already that he could count on this new man so much more than he'd ever have been able to count on his 'father' - the man who, Tommy decided once and for all, was nothing to him anymore.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
"Daisy, watch out for Max!" Elsie called across the beach.
"I will," Daisy laughed, splashing in the water as she ran. She had a good grip on Max's retractable leash, but she was letting him run in and out of the water as he and Tommy played with the frisbee.
"How are you holding up?" Charles asked, reaching out and taking Elsie's hand and placing a kiss to her wrist.
"Tired," she said truthfully, "but it's been a fabulous getaway. The kids must be freezing in the water!"
"Ah, they're kids. They live for the beach - didn't you?"
"I suppose so. Whatever made you think to come to Newport?"**
"Well, there are the mansions, of course," he said. "I knew someone would want to see Rosecliff** and compare it to the movie."
"It was wonderful," came Becky's voice from where she was lying on the blanket. "Thanks for bringing me, Charlie. It's been a fun vacation!"
"And you're exhausted, too, my darling," Elsie said as she brushed a lock of hair off of Becky's forehead. "I think we should prepare everyone at the home for the fact that you'll be sleeping soundly for at least a week!"
"I'll miss you," Becky sniffled, "but I really miss Mags and Martha. Do you think they'll like what I got for them?"
"I do, Becky. It was very thoughtful of you," Elsie reassured her, knowing the lovely drawing pad and pencils she'd chosen for Martha would be perfect, and that Mags would adore the pin Becky picked out.
Elsie's cell phone rang. She dug it out of her bag and checked the caller ID.
"It's Vyner," she said. Charles stood, and Elsie put her hand out so that he could help her get up.
"Let's hope it's good news," he said, not really believing it could possibly be true, that the nightmare of the fire could finally be nearing its end.
"Hello?" Elsie said.
"Elsie? It's Chief Vyner. Sorry, Willis said you're on vacation."
"No, it's fine. Is there any news?"
"She'll be indicted next week, Elsie. Made a full confession. It's over."
"She admitted to it all? What prompted that?" Elsie let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, and felt Charles's hand at the small of her back, grateful he was there holding her up.
"We found her brother's body last night. Suicide - hanging, in his closet. Not pretty; he'd been there four days, the ME reckons. Left a note for his sister, and we found other correspondence between them, too, outlining most of the rest. Crazy, the both of them."
"My God," Elsie whispered, her hand covering her mouth. "How awful. And Mary knows?"
"Yes, just off the phone with her. If you could come by the station when you return to Misty Cove, we just have a few questions for you."
"Alone?" Elsie asked, hoping they'd not be asking her to bring Becky.
"That should be fine. I think you can answer any questions I have without your sister having to be present. The letters we found were tucked into a journal of his; together, it's all been very … informative."
Elsie noted the disgust that was evident in Vyner's voice. "Understood. I'll be back in town tomorrow, and I'll have Charles bring me by in the afternoon, if that suits?"
"It does. See you then."
He hung up before Elsie could reply, and she dropped the phone back in her bag before practically diving into Charles's embrace.
"It's over," she gasped, clutching onto his shirt as the wind whipped her hair around them both. "She's confessed, her brother is dead, and she'll be going to jail for a very, very long time, I think."
Charles drew in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. "Thank God," he murmured into her hair. "Thank God."
They broke apart as the sounds of Max and the children became louder, and they turned just in time to see Daisy and Tommy skid to a halt just before the blanket, somehow (miraculously) not covering Becky in a shower of sand and wet dog.
"Alright, everyone dry off!" Charles instructed. "Time to drop Max off at the hotel, and then we're going out for a nice meal to mark our last day of vacation."
"And then we can stop at the candy shoppe and get the orange cremes?" Becky asked excitedly.
"Yes, love," Elsie replied with a chuckle. "We can."
Please do leave me a review and let me know your thoughts. :) Much appreciated! x
*FF won't allow me to directly paste a website, but if you Google "New England Clock Company" you'll see that this is a real place, and they are still in business today.
**Newport, RI - home to the Rosecliff Mansion, along with several others. Rosecliff was the mansion where "The Great Gatsby" (Robert Redford version, 1974) was filmed - something which Becky and Charles, lovers of literature, would appreciate. There's a great little community in Newport, and lots of fun activities for families.