Chapter 21 Confrontation
Roger saw the visible shake that overcame Belle's body, despite how stiff and determined she tried to appear, felt it underneath the light touch of her hand when he assured her that she no longer had to face things alone. The feeling of her trembling beneath his skin pierced his heart, again leaving him with an ache to take her up in his arms and promise her that never again would anyone make her feel this way. What all had she had to go through, that she had yet to speak of, he wondered? What all had she suffered while she was made to feel that she had no way out of the situation, to feel so trapped? He said a prayer of thanks for little David (or really not so little-he was soon to tower Roger-which was no great feat, he admitted) who loved his auntie enough to be the one person to help her. He knew Belle would see leaving David as the hardest part of the whole ordeal, he imagined, with her heart as kind as it was and her taking on ridiculous punishments just so David would not suffer.
He told the cab to wait (and if the old man muttered under his breath about the occupants of such houses in such neighborhoods, both Belle and Roger were not in the mood to hear it) and limped beside Belle, doing his best to reign in his own nerves. His mind tried to formulate some sort of plan, to think of all eventualities and what he would need to do to keep Belle safe no matter how this fiend of a brother responded. At one point Belle turned her head and looked at him, giving him a small smile, a reassuring one, though there was something behind her eyes that betrayed the fear there.
David and his brothers, along with a few neighborhood kids had been playing out in the yard, and David began running up to them as soon as he saw them.
'Auntie Belle! Corporal Gold.' He nodded his head in respect at his name.
'Roger is fine.' Roger assured the smiling lad.
'Mr. Roger.' The boy corrected and Roger smiled though it was difficult to do so, knowing what was to come and the fact that they would have to leave the poor boy behind.
'I see you got all the honey out of your hair, Auntie Belle.' Roger looked questioningly at Belle who turned a scarlet red.
'What do you mean?' He asked before Belle could reply.
'Micheal and James' David said simply, as if that were enough reply. It was said with a wrinkled nose, as if he had encountered something rotting and couldn't stand the smell.
'I explained the long night-they were the long morning.' Belle whispered. David enlightened him further.
'Poured the rest of the honey we had in the house all over Auntie Belle's hair, face, and clothes, and it dripped all over the couch. Poor Auntie Belle had a time scrubbing out of her hair and the couch. Father was-' His face went all scrunchy again and his mouth formed a scowl. '-not happy'
Belle's pale face made him almost nervous to ask the next question.
'Didn't he punish the boys?' Though it seemed the most logical, the way his companions were looking at him told him that it was indeed what he was afraid of.
'No sir, he was upset at Auntie Belle for dirtying his couch and made her clean it…but I helped!' He tried to faintly smile, as if trying to show his dissociation with the troublesome family he was born to. He understood this sort of thing better than others, so Roger nodded his head in understanding, all the while his eyes went to Belle, while her eyes went to the ground, her lower lip placed firmly between her teeth and her face pale with mortification.
'What reason did he give for being upset with you?'
'I slept too long. I had slept through helping with breakfast, apparently, and he had sent the boys to wake me. They were only doing what he told them to do, if I hadn't slept so long it wouldn't have happened, thus, I was the one responsible for the mess.' Belle mumbled most of this under her breath, Roger began seeing red, though reigned the anger building below his skin, so that he did nothing explosive. He remembered his father, hoped that this Morris fellow had a similar reason not to want to do anything too publicly explosive. They were cowards. It was something that he had unfortunately gotten from his father as well and hated the inherited trait. He could not think of his own cowardice this day though-this day was to make sure his dear little friend was safely brought to somewhere comfortable-away from overbearing, abusive brothers and lumpy sofas. He would push away the fear, and he would push away the anger that simmered within him until it could be thought over, starting with the image of his sweet friend working all night, just to be brutally woken by two monster-like nephews and made to clean up a mess not of her making, all while suffering the condescending tones of an older brother that made her walk five miles in the overbearing sun, and expected her to walk the five back laden down with groceries. For now he was sure that enough of it was conveyed through his eyes to cause him to need to gain a more neutral expression to enter the house and gave Belle a look that hopefully conveyed just how horrified he was for her, and yet sympathized with her at the same time. He really didn't know how to do such a thing-he wasn't used to all this.
He had first learned how to maintain a neutral expression to try to keep from getting beaten by his father, he also learned the face of a cowed boy, the desperate plea for mercy. A frightened and surprised expression when he learned that there was such things as kindness when his aunties took him in for a few years. When he finally made his escape from the country that held very few good memories (and the few good memories were covered in the shadow of grief), he learned even better how to read people, and thus judge what expression he must take to keep his job, and then when on the battlefield, what expression didn't make him look like a fool of a coward.
But this-this was something different. This look of comforting a friend. Friendship. If he did not know what words to use when writing her, how was he to know what expression to use, how best to form his face so that it made her feel better instead of worse? He didn't know how, but he would try, and thus he did, with how much success, he did not know.
'I'm sorry, Belle.' He breathed.
Belle raised her head, her lip still beneath her teeth, her forehead wrinkled, her eyes brimmed with tears. 'Nothing you did, Roger.' She tried to smile. She turned to David. 'I got most of the honey out, but you probably wouldn't want to touch my hair-not quite the right texture.' She tried to keep her tone light and jovial, but it was not quite there-that was alright though, David seemed to be a lad who was quite mature for his age-perhaps the one quality he obtained from his aunt.
'Mr. Roger, I hope you won't be offended if my father scowls at you-you're liable not to get a good reception, I don't think he's in a very good mood…'
'It's alright lad. I'm not here for a social call. I'm here to help your aunt gather her things.' He was unsure how to finish.
'She's leaving?' It was a resolved sigh, though he tilted his head with some confusion. 'Mrs. Taylor's not until next week, correct?'
'Roger has been kind enough to put me up at the Inn until I can see if I can make some arrangements with Mrs. Taylor.'
David nodded his head, tried to smile and then kicked around a stone. He thought better of his defeated attitude and then made his smile a bit bigger. 'That's good Auntie Belle…'
'Oh David.' And Belle reached over-mesh bag slung on her arm and all, and wrapped her arms around the young man, who responded as most teenagers would-though with some genuine warmth about it.
'Alright.' Belle straightened herself after a few moments. 'If I'm going to do this, I had better do it now. David, you run along and go back to play. I don't want Morris to think you had something to do with this.' She gave one last half smile and then took a large visible breath and turned the knob to Morris house.
The house seemed deserted at first. Shuffling was heard from somewhere. 'Cathy is putting on new sheets on James' bed-his hands were still sticky this morning, and made a mess of a bit more than just me and the couch.'
Roger's mouth thinned, the image of Belle's morning making him want to, to, to do something, he wasn't quite sure, though he could feel something akin to rage bubbling beneath the surface again. They had set the groceries on the counter and Belle had begun to put things away out of habit, but Roger let her know that she might want to go ahead and pack her things before Morris could hinder them from doing so.
'We'll have to pass his study to get to the closet and I think he might be using that room today since he has that inspection Monday. I've never seen him so flustered.'
Roger grunted his acknowledgement and followed her down the hall. The study door was closed, Belle seemed surprised at that, and then reddened when she told him he might not want to help her pack all her things, which caused him to redden and he left her to limp around the living room until her return.
It allowed him time to see the room that had been Belle's living quarters since January. He could see a damp spot where Belle had been made to scrub away the sticky mess her nephews had made, he could see the large, for now unlit fireplace where he pictured Belle doubling over, trying to scratch out words by the dying fire. How many times had she done so? How many cold nights did the fire truly die and she was left shivering in the dark? He heard another shuffle, this time from the direction Belle was, and it jolted him back into the present moment. Apparently he did know how to pace in a prosthetic. He barely registered the rubbing between his leg and the strapped on device. The sock was normally no match for the way he could feel his leg shift against the prosthetic, threatening to rub it until it bled-some of the boys-the more active ones, said it was a possibility, he hadn't experienced it yet, but he could never shake the inward feelings, since he had heard such tales.
He heard a heavy lid close over something-he imagined a suitcase, and a shifting that echoed along the walls-that she was so very noisy might have made him smile had the jolt of a heavy door not been heard afterwards.
'Belle, what do you think you are doing?' Roger stiffened where he stood, and for a moment he was worried that all his imagined ability to help Belle had evaporated and left him stranded-that the curse of cowardice his father left him had clung to him like an unwanted shadow.
'I'm leaving, Morris, I've come to get my things.' The voice was strong, defiant, yet, when he took a step or two, so that Belle and Morris were in his line of sight, seeing the great big bully tower over the brave girl like some giant ready to strike out at her, and she so tiny in comparison he had no other thought than to keep her safe from the giant's stupid, violent hands.
'Are you out of your mind, Belle? Where do you think you're going to go?'
Belle mumbled some sort of answer, most likely not wanting to be very specific, to not cause trouble from that quarter to follow her.
'Selfish brat! And how do you think you will provide for yourself, how do you think you'll be able to live? Stop being foolish and put those things back-I forbid you to leave.'
Morris' towering figure had yet to turn to see him at the end of the hall, though Belle's eyes often locked eyes with his and seemed to find-something in them. He was alert, ready to do anything that needed to be done, though he also wanted to allow Belle to perhaps say anything that she had wanted to say at the same time. At this command of Morris', Roger couldn't help but give a little snort which alerted Morris to his presence.
'You again! What have you got to do with this? Has my sister turned into some sort of tart, has she pulled you along in this scheme in exchange for her virtue?'
The man really needed a good bashing, and Roger might have been tempted, had he not also been for certain that he would have toppled over from the lack of balance. Instead he saw red and fought to gain control of his voice. 'How dare you. How dare you say such things to her. Come 'long Belle, you do not deserve to hear such things.'
'And I say I forbid it Belle!'
'What'll you do, might I ask?' Roger couldn't help but say, as Belle used Morris' attention on him to get past him and Roger moved to stand where it would be harder for Morris to lay a finger on her. 'Confiscate her bike-no wait, you've already done that. Have her sleep on your lumpy sofa for the week, oh, that's right, she already does that. It seems to me her life with you is punishment enough-hard to bargain when you've played all your cards 'lready.'
Morris' face was enraged. 'But what about David, Belle. You are the one who has influenced him, you are the one that has turned him against me. I'll have no choice but to…'
'Yes, please tell us exactly what you plan to do to wee David there. I want exact details, now that you've got a couple of witnesses. Please, I really want to know in exact details what you plan to do with David so I can let the police know once we are done here. I'm sure there are committees who are concerned for such children, I'm sure Belle knows who his teacher is, and those who would be concerned (perhaps already concerned) over his welfare.'
Belle's face had gone white at the mention of David's name and a look of resignation had crossed it, before he had opened his mouth and began to put forth his own threats. Now the color had changed in her face, only for Morris' face to begin to pale.
Roger leaned over, trying not to let his face register any intimidation over the man's great height.
'I'll tell you this now, we will go to the proper people, and should anything, any scrape or bruise or change in his person happen, we'll have the authorities on you so hard, they might even get nosy enough to find out why you've been so worried over the inspection coming up.'
Any color that was there before, drained completely from Morris' face. Roger bit back the smirk that very much wanted to form, and remained with a neutral expression.
'Get out-get out of my house! Just know this Belle, I hope you never come to regret this, for you will no longer be welcome in my house.'
Belle pulled her chin up, her eyes wide and oh so blue. 'Do not worry, I have no desire to come back here.'
And with that they left, seemingly both of them holding their breaths until they got inside the car and left Morris' house behind them. Belle looked over at David playing happily with neighborhood kids, looked sad for a moment and then turned to him as they let out those breaths.
'You were amazing!' She smiled, her first deep one that day causing warmth to spring in his chest. They were both trembling a little though neither would admit it. 'Do you think David will be alright?' Her first worry over someone else. He gave her a small smile. 'Aye, I think Morris might be frightened enough of the threat, though you might want to alert a few of the people closest to him-a teacher or something, just to be on the lookout.' Belle nodded, biting her lip for the umteenth time that day. She went on. 'How did you-why do you think there is trouble with the plant? He's snapped at me a couple of times when he thought I walked in on a private conversation which have been my clues that he's nervous about something, but…' She twisted her hands to indicate to him to continue.
'Just a hunch.' Roger shrugged. 'You've said more than once how flustered he is about this inspection. Even if it's not much of anything-anything he is worried about will be forefront in his mind, therefore, I thought I would make him think twice about hurting wee David.'
Her hand went to his and her eyes were tear filled once more. 'Thank you, thank you so much for everything. I don't know how I'll ever repay you.' Tears were spilling out in earnest now-even the cabby was feeling uncomfortable enough to keep any remarks he might have on their mutual destination where he never heard them.
He thought he might have said something along the lines of there is no need or I was only too happy to help or something just as bland and stupid as that. However, his mind would later dwell on many words he could have said-Marry me and let me take care of you for the rest of your days. Was among the most ridiculous of them, that he reddened and thanked heaven that he had not been so foolish as to use.
Author's Note:
History Stuff: While reading blogs about men dealing with a prosthetic at the time, at that area on their leg, complained about prolonged walking and working causing it to rub and even bleed. I don't think Roger has done enough to cause that to happen yet, but I could see the thought bothering him though. Child protective services in the US didn't completely form until the 1970s, however, starting in the early 1900s there were committees to help abused children, and by 1935 most states began adopting something similar to CPS, it just hadn't become federal yet. All that to say, I think they would have been able to report threats, however, I doubt anything would have been done unless he was hurt physically. So-poor David might have it rough for a bit. Like a few have commented and said, people like Morris always need someone to pick on. Cathy was the victim before Belle, and I could see him changing focus to David. Story Stuff: I am so happy that so many of you are big fans of Protective Gold too! Protective Gold is one of my parts of Rumbelle stories, and I hope that there was enough of a mix of brave Belle and Protective Gold to make everyone happy, lol Extra points if you get the Chronicles of Narnia reference (Prince Caspian more specifically) :) Thank you for reading, I have been blown away by all the amazing comments. You make my day when you comment!
