Chapter 6 A Kind of Moving On
Belle sighed as she glanced at the reflection looking back at her in the tiny oval mirror, embedded in her wardrobe. She knew the lack of sleep was starting to show, and she shivered as she threw on her coat and gloves, dreading stepping into the snowy cold. At least by that evening she would be sleeping in her old bed, warm and cozy in her own blankets (perhaps she should bring them back with her, just to have some extras, and something that smelled like home). Buoyed by the thought, she gathered up her purse, anxious to meet Mr. Dove and see her father.
She met Mr. Gold, never seen without his suit and tie and cufflinks, and all the things that made him Mr. Gold, and pulled together a genuine smile (how could she not, when she thought about how that she would see her father, and be in the shop again, and among everything known and familiar) and pointed to the toast and jam she had ready for him.
'I have some sandwiches made up in the fridge and a lasagna in the freezer that I put together yesterday that you can have tonight. So you'll be having a frozen dinner, but a homemade frozen dinner' She smiled. She knew she was prattling at this point, but he always made her feel on edge, and intimidated, especially when he dropped the signature Mr. Gold scowl and looked as he did now- rather confused.
'You didn't have to do that, Miss French-it's your day off.' He said it without all the cool calmness that had laced everything he said at the beginning of the week but said it as someone who was actually human might do, confused that she should go the extra mile and take initiative.
'I wanted to, and it's Belle, by the way. You and John-you know, Dove?' She clarified when he looked even more confused than before. The clarification only made his eyebrows shoot up and she didn't know but that made her more unnerved. 'Are the only ones I see while I'm here, might as well be on first name bases, right?'
'But we are in a professional situation, Miss French, you are the housekeeper.'
She hated when he boiled her down to only her position, but she forgave him on the spot, since he seemed too baffled by what she had said to take care of what he said. Instead she shrugged and said simply,
'You are welcome to use it, regardless.' He seemed to visibly relax and shake himself back to his normal self.
'Well, it won't help you in ascertaining my first name, I'm afraid.' He smirked as he buttered his bread.
'Alright, you don't have to tell me-It's that bad, huh?' She teased, but his wince told her that it really was that bad.
'It's one that I would suggest you not even guess, for you would never succeed.' he bit out, his smirk now gone, and she knew she was now treading on dangerous territory. If there was one thing she had figured out about her employer, was that she simply could not understand him at all! One minute he was biting and even a bit cruel, the next he was telling her that she could quit an hour early and go read in peace. She simply could not understand him at all.
Another reason to revel in the freedom of Saturday. She waved goodbye to him, teased him not to miss her too much, bit her lip because she couldn't believe she had said something like that, even in jest and then left out the door to meet the waiting John Dove.
'Hello Miss Belle' The big man smiled down at her, his smile having gotten bigger and more open each time they met-probably with the help of all the sweets she always boxed up and sent his way, purposely making too many.
Outside of exchanging pleasantries, the ride was quiet, John Dove, sweets or no, was still not a man of many words. Finally, the flower shop came into view and she bounded out the door with a smile and a thank you, and fairly barreled into her father the second the front door was flung open.
'Daddy!' She shrieked, the warmth of her father's embrace erasing for the moment, any lingering effects of cold rooms, confusing employers, and strange surroundings that she had been subjected to.
'My Bluebelle, oh, my dear girl, let me look at you.' He pulled her away from him for a moment, glancing over her, concern deepening the wrinkles on his worn face. This time of scrutiny gave Belle time to do some surveying of her own-noticing the large dark circles, the heavy breathing, and disheveled clothes.
'I don't like it, Bluebelle, I don't like it at all. Have you eaten enough? Slept enough? Has he hurt you?'
'I'm perfectly fine, Daddy, please don't worry about me. Although I am worried about you. Have you been taking care of yourself?'
'Not the same without you.' He shook his head, his eyes red with lack of sleep and strain. Guilt ate at her, though she didn't know what she could have done anything different than how their situation turned out.
Belle glanced around the shop, noticing that the books were laid out haphazardly, and half the arrangements had no price tags, and the ones that did were crooked.
'I'll just go set down my purse and come back down to help you, alright?'
Her father just ran his hands through the thinning hairs on his head and shook it. Belle ran upstairs and gasped at the state of the house waiting for her. Dishes were piled in the sink, trash was overrunning the wastebasket and the trash that was there concerned her. Take out, alcohol cans, and a medicine bottle or two sent threads of worry around her heart, threatening to strangle her.
She went back down to where her father was.
'Ummm, Daddy, I'm just going to spend a little bit straightening up here and then I'll be down to help-looks like you really can't live without me.' She tried giggling-her father really was helpless when it came to housework. He was really good with flowers, but she imagined that the extra workload was weighing heavy on him.
She scrambled to get the house in working order, and raided the cabinets to see if she could find enough ingredients to make up enough food that he would be set for the following week, without eating too much fast food that would hurt his health. He needed groceries, and she began a list with all the things she needed to do and get before returning to Mr. Gold's.
She was already tired from a week of cleaning up the Victorian, but her father needed her, so she rolled up her sleeves and got to work, at least happy that she could do it for someone so loved as her father-which had her feeling a tiny bit sorry for Mr. Gold, the poor man had no one like that in his life.
After an hour of cleaning the kitchen and then another two spent righting the books, she then helped her father around the shop while he did some much needed deliveries. She walked to the store once he was back, thankful to greet people on the street, as if she belonged there, as if she was a part of the town again. One week feels like an eternity when you see no one. Some gave her strange looks, they had probably heard of her new 'job' while some that had been pleasant with her before now scowled. She shrugged it off, and went back home to meal prep for her father.
By the end of the day she could barely keep her eyes open. She worked until late to finish getting things ready for the week ahead, anything so that when she returned her father would look less haggard and worn down. She had been worried about his health before, but just seeing what happened after one week's absence had her frantic with worry about what an entire year would do, as the weeks would pile together.
'Bluebelle?' Belle had entered a dreamless state the night before, and the pull on her shoulder was an unwelcome jolt into the reality of the beginning day. Her blue eyes burst open, taking in her father leaning over, his forehead knit with concern. She then noticed that her alarm was going off with ferocity.
'Have I overslept?' She worried.
'I don't know, my girl, but I heard your phone go off for the third time, and didn't want you to get in trouble with Mr. Gold.'
She nodded, thanking him, glancing at the time and sighing with relief that it had only been going off for ten minutes. She hurriedly got ready, throwing on a sweater, skirt and tights and flew out the door. Mr. Dove was just coming by and she had ten minutes to spare before she was officially supposed to start work. Her father had been concerned that she had to go back so early, but she smoothed things over as best she could. He still had fiery words for the person whom she insisted was helping them get out of the mess that he had put them in (though she worded his part in the mess as gently as possible). For some reason, the more words she had to assure her father that Mr. Gold wasn't the monster everyone made him out to be the less he seemed to believe her. So she said nothing more-gave him a quiet goodbye and left her home a little worse for wear, both physically and mentally exhausted, and realizing that perhaps it wouldn't be the haven of peace that she had expected it to be.
Exhaustion pushed to the side, she hurriedly pulled together a breakfast for Mr. Gold, this time forgoing the mountain of pastries she had done the week before and going for something just as sweet, but much simpler to put together. A substantial amount of pancakes were soon stacked and smothered in butter and jam. So far, Mr. Gold had seemed partial to sweets-her chocolate chip cookies disappearing from the canister when she wasn't looking, the pastries were relished with great enjoyment, and when it came time for her to write down another list for Mr. Dove, he requested other types of jams to try.
'Miss French, must you insist on making enough to feed Doves' entire family whenever you make a Saturday breakfast?'
As always, Mr. Gold's entrance gave her a start, though she was thankful that this time she didn't jump nearly as high and there was nothing thrown or broken in the process. For a man who carried a cane, which she had heard thumping on more than one occasion, he could manage stealth when the situation required it -or didn't require it, as the case might be.
She tried to give a relaxed shrug, hoping beyond hope that perhaps he wasn't looking or paying attention this time to how much she jumped when he walked in.
'I never measure for pancake batter, and I always start out with too much flour, and then to make the consistency right, the batter takes up most of the bowl, and here I am with more than I need. I'm sorry. I'll try to pay more attention next time.'
'Mmmm', he said, taking up his plate and grabbing a stack of three and pouring a good amount of maple syrup on top of the jam plastered on it already, confirming her assumptions on his sweet tooth. 'I suppose we will survive this over abundance, just this once.' His lips curled up in something like a smile, making Belle reciprocate. As confusing as he often was, ever since he let her go into his study and borrow a book (and she took the entire next day dusting the place, just so he wouldn't have cause to reprimand her over it) , he seemed more quips than barks, and she quite like that side of him. She had thick skin, and as long as he wasn't actually and intentionally insulting her, she was quite alright.
The snow in Maine blustered in continually, and she dreaded retreating to her room at the end of the day to her icebox of a room. As the week continued and sleep was only achieved after wearing five different layers and tossing and turning for half of it, sleep deprivation began wearing her down. Mr. Gold had looked at her funny when he got home in the evenings, as she was struggling to stay awake long enough to serve him dinner. His scrutiny always unnerved her to the point that she felt like shuffling her feet and looking down at her hands-she didn't like that kind of feeling, so instead, she tried to carry on as if he wasn't looking as if he could see into her soul, and raised her chin just the tiniest bit, and smiled as though his gaze was nothing short of normal.
That Thursday had been an extra trying day for Belle. The night had seen temperatures well into the negatives, and her room struggled to keep any sort of warmth in. She spent the night with teeth chattering, and half a mind to go and sleep in the den. She didn't want Mr. Gold to find her there and bring up all sorts of questions she didn't want to answer. She wondered if he had put her in the room to test her resolve and commitment to the deal. Though he had been a bit less barky lately, she didn't doubt him engaging in some sort of scheme to see how long she could last without complaining, thus giving him a loophole to let her out of the deal. She wasn't that weak, and she was determined to stick it out and stick to their deal, though her toes froze off in the meantime.
Her whole body was lethargic that morning and her muscles ached as she went about her tasks. Sleep tempted her with every task she tried to undertake. Eventually she chose one of the guest rooms she hadn't really been in, yet, and set out to freshen it up and clean it, just to give her something taxing to do to keep her awake.
At two she finally finished, and took her lunch break, grabbing a piece of fruit and selecting a new book for her enjoyment. The pages of the book blurred in front of her eyes as they grew heavier and heavier, until the temptation of sleep lulled her to peaceful darkness.
…
Gold opened the door and for the second time since Miss French (Belle, his brain reminded him, ever since she had allowed the informality, though he only spoke so in his mind) had come to work for him, there were no warm smells to greet him. He imagined that even on so cold a day as it was (and what a blustery March day it was! His blasted leg had protested any sort of movement the entire day), she might have done some sort of easy salad or something. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and he wondered if she spent too much time at night reading those books she now borrowed, or perhaps she was working herself too hard.
Feeling a bit of deja vu, he found her slumped over the kitchen table with a book. Instead of an entire replay of the time before, this time she did not soak in the words in front of her, as he noticed that she was sound asleep! Before he had gotten angry unreasonably, and while he wasn't a nice man, and very much a hard one, he always prided himself on being at least somewhat fair. He wanted no repeat of what had happened before, so instead, he planted his cane in front of him, and leaned over slightly.
'Miss French?'
She did not stir. He took in how uncomfortable a position she was in, signifying how tired she must be.
'Miss French?' he spoke a little louder, there was a slight stir, but no indication that she was waking. He reached out a trembling hand to her shoulder, unused to physical contact of any kind. 'Belle? What's this then?' His words were soft, softer than he meant, really, but she looked so crumpled and disoriented as she woke that the sight of it softened any roughness that normally accompanied his inquiries. 'Do you not have a bed to do your sleeping in?'
' 's so cold in there, can't sleep.' her eyes told him that she was still not awake and once she paused and rubbed her eyes, and time gave her a moment to properly accumulate to her surroundings, the blue orbs went wide.
'Oh, Mr. Gold! You're here, does that mean it's…' She looked up at the time on the oven, and looked back at him in horror. For some reason, seeing her state of disheveled panic picked at a chink of his stony heart, and he knew his rough exterior had softened a great deal.
She was up in a flash, rubbing the rest of her sleep away.
'What's all this about your room being too cold to sleep.' He spoke to dissuade another apologetic outburst.
Belle immediately bit her lip.
'I-I didn't realize what I was saying…'
Her hands rung together in nerves, meaning…
'But it's true though?'
Her face went all wrinkly and she looked positively frightened.
'I don't want to complain, Mr. Gold. It is a bit cold, but Maine will warm up at some point, and I know I fell asleep on the job, but I promise I won't let it happen again, I'm not complaining, I can do my job just fine-the deal is still on-N-now what can I do for supper now? I could probably do some sort of pasta or something…' Her rambling had him so confused and those guilt sensations were back once again, and for once he had no idea why.
'Let's not worry about that now, I want to know about your room, and why you thought going without much sleep for the past week and a half was worth not telling me about it.'
'It is a bit cold in there-but-but I have been worried you would see my complaining as me wanting to get out of the deal, or some way of finding one of your reputed loopholes.'
She was chewing viciously on her lips at the confession and his heart clenched tighter.
'I think you'd better show me.'
He and Belle made their way to her room and he bit back his shock at the state of it. When he had suggested she take the room, he hadn't even looked at it. He remembered it as part of the renovations he did on the house, of course, but it had been years ago, and he had very much forgotten how tiny it was, how dismal it felt, and how it had been one he had put the least amount of care into. And doing the renovations in the summer, he hadn't realized the issues this part of the house had with…drafts. It felt like the inside of the freezer and he felt the cold seeping into his leg all the way through his expensive suit. He dared a glance at Belle, still worried, though she looked at him with some curiosity, as if she was analyzing something in his face. He attempted to school his features into something that would be unreadable.
'Well, this won't do at all.'
'What?'
'Come along.'
She did so, her face knit in curiosity if he was to look back at her.
He stepped in front of the guest room at the other end of the hall from his room.
'I did say to your father and in the contract that you would be staying at the other end of the house, and I am a person of my word.'
'This is for me?'
He managed a smirk. 'Anyone else you see wanting to stay here in this drafty house?'
She smiled, a beautiful (ugh, stupid thoughts) genuine smile.
'Thank you' She had grasped his hand that was settled on his cane for a moment before stepping back as if she were burnt from the touch.
'Well.' He half squeaked, the place where she had put her hand now burning. 'Wouldn't do for you to freeze to death before a month was out from our deal-what would I tell your father, hmmm?'
She gave a quiet giggle, his own traitorous lips twitching upwards.
Now that was taken care of, he told her to follow him once more, an amused chuckle at her whispered comment ('really glad I cleaned this room today') and another when she got all curious again when he told her to get into his car so they could go pick up burgers and take them back home. For some reason he didn't mind the baffled looks from the diner pick up window-a quick scowl in their direction had their mouths shut dutifully and he also found that he also didn't mind the smiles that his maid, Belle, gave him as they went back to the dining room to eat.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the extra long chapter, this time! I had him giving the room in mind for this chapter all along, but all the build up to it took much longer than I had expected, so I just kept going, lol
If you'll leave a comment and tell me what you think, you will make my day! Extra points if you can tell me where the chapter title comes from!