Chapter 11 Budding Friendships
Hello again, you crippled coward. I'm sure you never thought you would be hearing from me again, did you? I wish I could be there to see your face when you read this. You'll be happy to know that I'm dying, so this will be the last correspondence from me you'll have to worry about…
Gold ran his fingers through his hair, the words could still give him pain even months later. Pain, longing, anger, rage. He supposed that had been the reason he had responded so vehemently to Belle when he thought she might have rummaged through all of them, though he allowed a full share of the guilt and had not excused his outburst. Not daring to reread the rest lest he should sink into a worse mood than he was already, he locked the documents back up into his desk drawers once more.
He sat thinking and pondering in his pain and guilt until he thought it had been enough time and he was sure his little housekeeper would be off on her week long holiday. It was the only thing he could come up with in such a short amount of time, that also sounded like a thing a person who had employed a housekeeper might do. Buying her something would more than likely have given the wrong impression, and he would hate to send her running and screaming to her father.
He finally emerged from the study, and the house was assuringly quiet and still. He hadn't been alone in his house an hour before he was already regretting staying home and not working at the shop, no matter how he felt.
'You're a bit of a workaholic, you know'
The urge to do something had Belle's words flash through his mind. It was as if she had her own correspondence from her listing one of his many, many shortcomings that was a pleasure for her to go over every time he had come home later than expected, all those years ago. Belle's face and voice had been all concerned over his health when she had said it, of course. She had no idea how those words would take him back to a different time and different life. He ran his hand over his face, wishing the memories could be pushed away just as easily.
Sighing, he decided that there was nothing for it, but to go and change out his armor and get a bit more comfortable, if he was to stay around the house all day. That morning he couldn't have imagined approaching Belle in anything less than his most pristine ensemble, it was bad enough that she had seen him in such a state the day before. However, if it was going to be anyone, he felt that he would rather it be her, for some strange reason-and with those confusing feelings he went to get into his loungewear.
At long last, he was at his shop again. Perhaps not feeling quite one hundred percent better, but seeing how he had worked through bouts of throbbing pain in his leg most days, remnants of a little head cold were nothing in comparison.
'I trust you are feeling better sir?' Dove had come in through the back door.
'Mmmmm' They were both men who only used the most necessary words. He normally used more than Dove, of course, but then again, he saw the necessity of using more than Dove did to convey his meaning. This time, he felt that to elaborate any more would cause a string of sentiments to have to be given. Words like 'thank you for asking' and such.
'And Miss French, did she…?' He always began sentences and knew exactly how he planned to execute them, but not having Dove aware of anything other than a professional curiosity for an employee's welfare was paramount, and he realized he hadn't thought the question through with his normal diligence. Perhaps the head cold was still plaguing him after all.
'She went home, sir.'
He nodded with a countenance that would have told him that he expected as much, and he did, really he did. Of course she would go home. Her father was far from perfect, but he was her family and she cared an awful lot for him. Not that he could judge a man for what kind of father he was when he was the sort of father that… He cleared his throat, clearing the remainder of that sentence. Dove helped him in that moment by changing the subject to let him know of a property that needed some maintenance and so Gold sent Dove to go and look at it, leaving him to turn his attention to an old grandfather clock that he had been keen to recover. While he had made the bulk of his money through owning most of the town, as well as his notorious deals his law education gave him an upper hand in, he found that it was the little shop with vintage treasures that had given him a measure of contentment through the lonely years of his existence. So he allowed himself to get caught up into the motions of what he enjoyed most and he didn't know the hours that had passed him by, except that his stomach began growling, alerting him that it was his normal lunch time.
His internal sense of habit had him pausing as if to go grab his lunch containers that Belle had made him, only then remembering that there had been no Belle there to assemble one. Of course, he could have made one up, but he had simply argued that he had done without a lunch all that time before her, and surely he could do just what he had done before, and get by just as well as he had done before Belle had come.
Ten minutes later and his stomach was highly regretting his early morning stubbornness. The bell in his shop went off, and he grabbed his cane that he had set on the side of his work table and limped heavily into the main shop, as having stood for so long in one stance had him stiff.
'How can I help you…Belle?'
For there she was. Cheeks pink from obvious exertion, as he imagined that she had walked the half mile or so that was between her father's shop and his. She had on a white cardigan over a blue sweater, her curly hair pulled back into a french braid, the end of it swept over her shoulder, and her blue eyes, well, the walk over had only made them sharper, clearer, even more beautiful. The thoughts were only a second in duration. The next thoughts were spent trying to deduce why on earth she would be there when she could literally be doing anything else. She looked like she was ready to go on a picnic-a wicker basket was slung over her arm, which made him more confused, not less.
'Hi, Mr. Gold. You-you haven't eaten lunch yet, have you?'
He was still a bit stupefied, his brain deciding to process everything as slowly as possible. Could she have? He pulled his lips in a thin line so as not to display his amazement and curiosity, and shook his head in acknowledgement.
'You didn't bring lunch with you either, did you?'
Her tone wasn't accusatory, it wasn't even amused. She seemed-concerned.
'Didn't think it was necessary.' He mumbled the excuse he had given himself this morning.
'Mmmm' She nodded, and then bit her lower lip in contemplation of her next words. He was nervous for her, anticipating whatever thing made her so apprehensive to ask.
'I thought I might-that is-I made sandwiches for us.' She held up her basket and gave him a forced smile. All the nerves plainly written on her face. 'Do you mind if I eat with you?' her teeth were back to chewing on her lip once her question was complete, and he found that not only was he completely baffled at the entire thing, that her nervousness endeared her to him completely.
'I don't mind.' he simply said, but motioned her forwards, pulling back the curtain separating the shop from the back and had her come through. He could see her taking in the cluttered back room, the work table laden with all sorts of tools, and varnish, a shelf to the side where he kept all those things organized when he was through working on a project. He knew exactly when she saw the little cot in the corner of the room, as her eyes turned quickly to his, with questions pouring from her eyes, though her mouth said none of them. He wondered if she was too scared to ask, or if she was remembering her promise not to pry. He almost hated that either of those options were the case, so he decided to answer what she was not asking.
'In the past I have had projects that kept me at the shop until late-this is here in case I ever am too tired to try to make it back.' He tried to allow the words to be of the no-nonsense variety, so that she would read no more into it. He would not draw attention to the fact that since she came he had come back earlier and earlier from work, or that since she had come he hadn't been so loath to go back to his lonely house. She nodded her head, as if she understood, and he pulled a couple of chairs into the less cluttered area of the room.
She went straight to work unwrapping food, and pouring out iced tea she had brought with her.
'Your father will not miss you?' he had to ask once they had settled into their lunch.
'Not for an hour.' She smiled, this time much warmer and less nervous than before. 'I told him I was eating with a friend. I did not specify which one-as he, um,well, I'm afraid he doesn't like you very much.'
She was eating with a friend. She didn't specify which one. That made him-a friend?
'The feeling is mutual.' He muttered.
Belle let out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumped a little, and Gold felt the pricks of guilt that always seemed to accompany his time spent with Belle.
'I figured as much. So-that is why I didn't let on who I was eating with. I knew you would most likely go hungry if I didn't come, and Daddy's mind would be more at ease if he thought it was Ruby or Emma that I was eating with. I didn't fib, but I am worried to say anything that might cause him to get worked up.'
She was biting at her lips again, and Gold suddenly worried.
'Why would you worry about him getting 'worked up'?'
Had he put her in a worse situation by letting her off for the week? The old man worked her more than he thought he should, but he seemed to genuinely love the girl, albeit neglectfully.
She fiddled at her lower lip for some seconds before responding, allowing Gold's heart rate to increase dramatically in anticipation. What would he do if something was going on?
She turned her face towards him, concern and worry etched in the corners of her eyes and mouth.
'It's his heart. I've worried about it for a while, but he isn't taking care of himself like he should and the symptoms are only getting worse.'
He tried to only inwardly relax at that statement. Her father's health. That was something reasonable and helped extinguish the inner struggle to limp over to her father's shop and beat him with his cane and now he had a better understanding why the man always seemed one breath away from a heart attack whenever he had the misfortune to see him.
'I'm sorry to hear that.' He replied lamely, once his voice was under control and he knew he could convey the sentiments without really expressing true feeling. His thoughts so far since she had been so kind to bring him a lunch basket had frightened him enough and baffled him enough to at least want some semblance of control.
Belle reached over, her eyes saying thanks (for what, he wondered?-he had given the least amount of acknowledgement of her words that he could afford.) and laid a hand on his arm, causing him to still in his seat, not even daring to take a breath.
'It's alright. I'm overreacting, probably.' Her arm had retracted by that point, and though part of him was relieved, the other part of him keenly mourned its loss. 'But after mom…' She caught herself. He did not know why Mrs. French was no longer a part of the picture, but knowing how he felt about his own past, he wasn't about to try for details of her own. He would perhaps be tempted to do that to exploit someone's weakness, but Belle said they were friends-friends! And he supposed that probably wasn't something one did with friends-not that he had any experience with them…
'Well, he's all I have left.' Her lip quivered with the words and Gold didn't know what to do or how to respond. She looked down and collected herself, glanced at the time and noticed that they had used up the hour.
'Would it be alright if I came tomorrow?' Belle asked as she readied herself to leave.
He just nodded his head, wondering how a friend would respond, a real friend, not some overbearing employer that made his maid worry that he would starve himself so he wouldn't have to make a sandwich.
'That would be great, though, I'll provide burgers, if you would like, so you don't have to worry about making a basket?'
He was worried that the question was too presumptuous, though he wouldn't do anything so bizarre as chew his lower lip-he did notice, belatedly, that he was running his hand through his hair-caught himself and stopped immediately.
Belle smiled. 'I really don't mind doing it-though burgers do sound nice.'
'Tomorrow?' He reluctantly smiled back.
'Tomorrow! See you, Mr. Gold!'
He would get to see her tomorrow.
He saw her every day that week. When he had gone to get the burgers Belle's friend Ruby had eyed him suspiciously as she gave him a bag that she knew held two orders instead of one. She was too scared of him to ask any questions, but her face told him that she was on to him. He glared in return, causing her to shrink back (to his great amusement and relief), and he left the diner, ready for his luncheon with Belle. He knew stolen glances were made towards him (none would do so openly), but he found he didn't care. He was Mr. Gold, was he not? This was basically his town, and he could do whatever he wished.
Conversation was not quite as raw as it had been the previous day, but they did engage in more dialogue than they had before. He had always appreciated that Belle could eat in pleasant silence, but he found that when she spoke after they had finished their meal and Belle knew that she wasn't expected at her father's shop yet. They spoke about their favorite books, authors and genres, Belle's face was most pleasantly animated during those topics, so Gold always tried to make sure and steer the conversation that way (covertly, of course). However, he found that she could hold intelligent conversation on other neutral topics, they never went to things that would be considered too personal to either. Belle did ask him about certain items she found interesting in his shop, and he found he didn't mind spending a whole hour giving her the history of whatever she was interested in. She would lean over, her elbows resting on her knee and hands cradling her face, as if whatever he said was the most exciting thing she had ever heard. Her eyes were so deep and open, drinking in his words. The hour would be up before he felt it had begun and she would skip out the door, promising that she would be back again the next day.
It went like this until Thursday afternoon, before leaving she said, 'I won't be here tomorrow.' She looked sad at the news-he felt disappointed but tried not to show it.
'Oh?' His eyebrows went up in curiosity, thinking that would be the better emotion to show.
'Daddy said he has a surprise person coming for lunch and asked me to stay.' She shrugged, but let out a small chuckle. 'So you'll have to do without me, I'm afraid. Think you can survive?' She smirked.
'I'll do my best.' He gave a crooked smile in response, making it look as if he were in on the teasing, when the words rang truer than he liked. She was becoming something almost dear to him, and it scared the life out of him.
Author's Note: This is going to be almost like a two part-er chapter, in a way. There is more to Belle's week that has to happen before she can return, but it was going to go much too long for me to include all of it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really enjoyed writing Gold becoming increasingly aware of his feelings. He has baggage that will cause him to second guess everything, and to question motives, be worried about giving into his feelings, etc. (this will be a slow burn-not 100k word slow burn, but just slower than say my story Quick judgements was-and I really love that story, this is just different). So I am thankful for everyone who is in it for the duration! I can't wait to share more of their thoughts and feelings as they grow towards each other!
Please let me know what you think, if you can. I really appreciate all the feedback!