I did not edit this as much as I normally do chapters, just because I did each section so slowly and thoughtfully, that it was mostly just grammar and spelling errors I Was looking for. That being said, if you see something, you can let me know :)
Chapter 30 The Final Presentation
'South Portland is no' so far from the city.' He stammered out as they turned towards that direction. He almost hated to interrupt Belle's reverie from the window where she was taking in the surroundings. She looked back at him and smiled and nodded her head, smiling at him until she was caught by the sight of the bridge and was back to looking out the window again. It struck him how interested she was to view things around her. She had been fairly well off growing up, it made him wonder.
'Did ye travel very much, growing up, Belle?'
'Oh no, not really at all. Papa wasn't one for change.' She paused for a moment, her face sad and looking lost in thought, which made him feel sorry for bringing it up, especially on a day that was supposed to be so happy. He knew she must also be thinking what their wedding day would look like if her father had been still alive. She seemed to gather herself and was soon smiling again.
'I always wanted to travel, but this is the farthest I've ever been, actually.'
Roger smiled softly back. 'Then I'm glad I get to show you around.'
So Roger made it a point to speak on anything he thought might be interesting in their surroundings. He pointed in the direction of the ocean, told her it would be nothing to get there, but…
'Dove's told me the stench at Willard Beach is not for the sightseer. We'll have to plan to visit another side.'
'Why does it stink?'
'Well, ye see, our neighborhood as well as many houses in others, have had indoor plumbing put in, and well, it all flows out into the ocean.
Belle wrinkled her nose most adorably before giving a sort of pleasant sigh. 'But that does mean we have indoor plumbing.'
'Aye, that it does.'
And with that, they drove up the little path up to their box of a house. His heart was doing that constricting thing again, pounding as he saw Belle take in the smallness of it, the color, the shape.
'It's quite adorable.'
Roger chuckled, his heart only loosening the vice a little, as there was much more to see. 'That's another way to say it's tiny.'
She gave him that exasperated look, that was then softened by her bright dancing eyes. 'Well, we don't need much, it's just us.'
'Aye.'
He didn't know what else to say, so he helped her out of the car before they got her luggage.
'Mrs. Mildred insisted I take that satchel.' She said pointing to the one that he had grabbed. 'A hope satchel instead of a hope chest.' She giggled, making him smile.
He could not lift her over the threshold but he did open the tiny door for her and give her a 'welcome home, Mrs. Gold.' Which made her smile in such a way that he nearly forgot that he was supposed to be nervous about showing her the little house.
It was a tiny space, but seemed larger due to the lack of furnishings inside. He was very aware of where her eyes roamed-the little radiator at one wall, the small couch separating the living room you walked into, and the smaller space behind. He had hoped to gather things to make Belle happy for that spot, a Belle corner as it were-for now it was empty save curtains that were a curious shade of green and yellow, and a small, thick table looking thing that turned into a…
'A sewing machine!' Belle squealed as he propped himself up to be able to turn the machine over to be shown. Her tiny hand slid over the polished wood and metal. 'It's beautiful.'
Roger smiled, not being able to help the bit of pride that welled up. He had spent several nights after work, taking it completely apart and shining every section. It had been difficult-some parts were done on the couch, other sections had to have him on the floor, which meant his prosthetic was off and difficulties in balancing while on the floor. Belle's pleased smile was worth it.
'I think-I think my first project might be curtains.' She bit her lip, smiling yet almost worried he might take offense towards it.
'I was hoping you would.' He teased back and he could see the visible sigh of relief.
'Through that doorway is the kitchen.' The living room was the center of the home. The doorway on the left side of the living room went into the kitchen, whereas the other side went into a narrow hall that housed the tiny, yet indoor bathroom, and their bedroom.
White tile with blue diamond shapes lined the kitchen.
'I think this house was furnished about ten years ago.' He said as a way of apology. He remembered the slick refrigerator that her brother had and he looked at the plain white electrical box next to the cabinetry. Across from it, an electrical washbasin from about the same year.
'I don't mind.' Belle smiled. 'Mrs. Mildred's house wasn't really up with the times. She still had an icebox!' She studied everything, the mismatched curtains to the tile, the cleared cabinets, the little table and chairs (another thing that thankfully came with the house) in the far corner, took his free arm and wrapped her own around it, placing a quick peck on his cheek. 'This will be perfect, Roger. Thank you.'
He wanted to kiss her some more, especially with how wonderful she was being, however, there were other things to show her, one in particular he was excited about.
He had become a bit of a treasure hunter the past couple months, as he looked for his car, then his house, then things to put in said house. He opened the cabinet where he showed some clear glass cups on one side, his pride and joy on the other.
'I found this at an estate sale in Cape Elizabeth, very nice neighborhoods there, and the man must have been a collector of Victorian antiques, and the son hadn't a clue of their worth.'
Belle's bonnie blue eyes had widened at the view. The porcelain tea set had dainty gold lines at their very edges, blue and violet flowers dropped down from their golden edges on a bed of pearl white.
'Do you know what they're worth?'
'I didnae know when I got them, but I have since gone to a bookstore and found one where I could look up the different rarer sets-ours here, you see.' Saying ours was still such a novel thing! He picked up one of the delicate cups and turned it over carefully. 'This emblem with the crown-Royal Albert Crown China.' he read aloud. 'Created in 1904 and this particular print was done only that year and they no longer have any in print like this anymore.'
'It's lovely-I really like the blue.'
'Aye, so do I-It's what drew me to it when I saw it.' He looked over at her shyly, the memory of the blue sticking out to him because when he saw it he could only think of Belle's eyes and then imagine her sitting near a window with a book and a cup of tea, and then had to get it. Belle could not know the memory, but his look and smile must have said that he had thought of her, and she blushed a very bonnie shade of pink and he had to kiss her again. He was that happy right here. If only there was not the fifth presentation to get on with. He could not ignore it, there was simply no way to, so there was nothing to do but to press on and pray that she wouldn't be terribly disappointed.
'Through here is a sor' of dining room, though it wasn't furnished and I didnae find any furniture to suit, not yet anyway.' He gave another small smile-none of these were full smiles. Somehow he was both deliriously happy and overwhelmingly nervous at the same time. The emotions warred within him, and all he could manage was a neutral expression with an occasional smile, which irked him. Belle was beginning to pick up on his nerves, he could tell by the way her eyes would glance towards him, worry lining her face-as if she were worried for him as well as feeling the need to assure him that she liked each room, each thing he had placed in it, that she was worried his nerves were for the house alone. And while he was worried that the house might not be good enough for her, it was what he must show her later that made him neither assure her all was well, or manage anything more than a halfhearted smile. He was a disaster.
'And I see a yard through there.' She offered, trying to break through the nervous tension.
'Aye, and that concludes this side of the house. We'll go back through the living room to show you the other side and pick up your luggage.'
And so they did. He pointed to the tiny bathroom. It was very plain, none of the other colors thrown about the house had made it into this room. He didn't know if it was because it had always been meant to lease or rent, or if they had done the rest of the house and given up on this particular room. There was nothing to point out. It had a pedestal sink, a toilet (indoors! He did point that out), and a bathtub that went from one wall to another, but was a nightmare to get into as he had experienced already. He was getting better at maneuvering in here, but he had only hurt himself once and it wasn't as bad as it could have been-and thankfully the bruises had also faded since that time as well.
'In here is our bedroom.' He swallowed. 'I did not do anything but the bare basics here. I thought-you might, well, want to go choose some things together. I-I wanted it to be what you would like.'
She was making that face again. The one that told him she was worried over him, that almost exasperated look that she gave him when he made sure that she was sure before they got married.
She squeezed his hand. 'I like that idea. Thank you for being so concerned over what I might like-you're wonderful.'
He reddened and shook his head, though grasping every word. She might not think so when she found out just how utterly helpless her husband was.
'These nightstands are beautiful, did they come with the house?'
'No, I bought those at the same place as the tea set. Getting them in my car was a-challenge. '
He remembered pathetically pointing out that he would be unable to carry them to his car and the ones doing the selling had only shrugged and looked around them as if saying 'and what are we supposed to do about that?' Thankfully someone behind him had offered to help. He had never felt his disability more in that moment. To be so utterly helpless in a situation like that. And still that was nothing to the helplessness he was about to present to Belle.
'You have given me so many wonderful surprises today, Roger, I wanted to give you a sort of wedding gift too.'
His nerves dissipated for a moment out of surprise.
'Oh, ye didn't have to…'
'It's not anything very much really, I just…'
Belle set her suitcase on the bed and opened it. On the very top sat a journal of some sort, leather bound and pages that sat away from each other, showing that they had been tampered with.
'I'm not much of an artist, but I have always loved copying poetry and I wanted something to signify the time we fell in love.' She bent her head down for a moment and reddened before it came back up and she took up the journal and gave it to him. He opened it to the first page.
'To Roger with all my love'
Inside each page was a poem, he recognized each one from…
'Our letters-these are poems that either I sent to you and you sent to me in their entirety. I decided to leave out 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' . It really was not the right poem to use to initiate correspondence with a man named Gold.' She chuckled. Instead the first poem was 'Address to a Haggis' and that made him smile. Each page was surrounded by pressed flowers glued and sealed in each page, each poem written by that loopy scroll he had come to love. It was too much. She was so wonderful and yet he was about to show her just how pathetic he was. He ought to have hugged her, thanked her, yet all those nerves constricted his chest and he could for a few moments neither say nor do anything but close his eyes and try to breathe.
'What is it Roger? What is wrong? Ever since we came to the house you've been, well you've…It's not me is it, nothing I've done, I'm sorry if I've somehow…'
'No! No, it's not you at all, sweetheart. This is beautiful, I love it so much, you are wonderful, I am just, I'm just a coward is all.'
'That's not true.' Belle said rather indignantly. 'Look at all you've set up for us-you got a good job, a house and a car, and made this into something rather like a home- and so done so much for me. And I think you've done rather wonderful and done all this on your own. I-I am so thankful for you Roger.'
She was grasping hold of him, arms around him.
'But still a coward all the same.' He whispered into her soft hair.
'Why?' She dared him, pulling up and looking up at him with her icy blue eyes.
'Because I'm scared to death to show you what sort of pathetic man you've married.'
She pulled up again, her arms having released him and hers now crossed over her chest. Her mouth was beautifully plump and pouty, as if daring him to contradict her own image of him.
'I think you better elaborate.'
Every breath was painful.
'I should have somehow described this to you, this process in our letters, described to you how helpless I am, especially at the end of the day. I am supposed to protect you, care for you, how can I do that when I can barely care for myself, and have no way of being of use to you?'
He paused for a moment. There were wrinkles in her forehead that told him she was confused, her eyes were as pouty and sad as her lips, but he continued. He did not want to see those lips curl in disgust or her eyes look at him with that pitied expression she might give a hurt dog. She didn't do it when she first found out he had only one leg, but she did not know what it would look like or how it would be to live with such a person.
He brought himself to the edge of the bed and sat there carefully.
'When it is time for me to bathe or ready myself for bed, I do realize I am lucky to do all these things myself- some of the boys with no hands can do much, but not everything to get themselves ready for bed. But when it is time to do so, I-I must sit here, on the edge of the bed where I can use both hands to take off my pants, for it is the only way to rid myself of the prosthetic.'
His cheeks were hot and Belle's eyes were wide and observant. With every bit of mortification he felt he could ever feel, he slid off his pants with the precision he had built over the past months, though knowing it must look ridiculous from the outside. He tried not to think of that too much.
'There's a strap here.' His voice was barely over a whisper now. Perhaps he could get through this if he just imagined he was talking to himself? 'And I loosen it and pull off the prosthetic and set it to the side. It must be where I can get a hold of it, otherwise I will have to go all the way to the floor to pick it up, as I cannot balance and bend down with one leg.'
He thought he saw a nod in the corner of his eye, but he could no longer look at her.
'The sock protects my leg, or what's left of it, that is, from rubbing against the prosthetic, so that means that it gets sweaty and disgusting during the summer months, sometimes chafing and rubbing almost raw the nub underneath.'
He tried taking a deep breath again. He shakily pulled off the sock exposing the gnarly bit that went masquerading as his second leg.
He felt the droplets before he realized there were tears there. He closed his eyes so he couldnt look at Belle, feeling so exposed. 'I know, I know, It's an ugly thing to look at-I'm sorry.'
He gasped and opened his eyes when he felt a cool hand on his warm stump of a leg.
She was on her knees, looking up at him so intently-he could hardly know what look she was giving, disgust or otherwise, the tears were so blinding.
'Oh Roger.'
He had to finish. He must tell her what she had gotten herself into by marrying him.
'Once this is off, I can use the side of the wall and my cane to try to make it down the hall to the bathroom, that's no' so bad, but I cannae really go anywhere else, you understand. I can hop back to the bedroom, I can get on my hands and good leg and crawl to the living room, even, but should someone break in, or if anything really should happen in the middle of the night, I would be helpless to do anything.' He dropped his head down, tears coming without the ability to hold them back. 'I know it's been rather selfish of me to not explain things more thoroughly. You knew you were marrying a cripple, but I'm sure you had no idea how helpless I truly was, and I'm sorry for it. I hope you can forgive my cowardice…'
'Oh Roger.' She said again and her fingers went from his leg to his hands, taking both and pulling them close to her chest (though not forcefully, not so bad as he felt as if he might fall off or anything). 'There is nothing pathetic or cowardly about the man I married. This.' She gently touched the bit of exposed skin again on his shortened leg. 'Only proves it. Nothing will shake the image of my Roger standing up to Morris when you had only just met me in person. He towered above you, yet you stood your ground. That is the man I married. All the other things you just showed me are just things you've had to do to adjust, how could I be upset at that? And I want to do everything I can to make you more comfortable, alright?'
He nodded his head, he no longer even tried to wipe the tears away any more.
'Not because I want to be your nurse, you understand.' she inserted, as if she could read the thoughts he had after the words 'make you comfortable'. 'But because I'm your wife and I want the very best for you. Because, I love you.'
She then raised up, wiped his eyes with her hand and kissed him
Author's Note:
History Stuff: The bridge they go across to get to South Portland is the million dollar bridge, that opened in 1916, and replaced by the Casco Bay Bridge in the late 90s. Willard Beach was a stinky place until the late 70s when a better sewer system was put into place. The house is an actual house in South Portland from around that time. I looked on the inside of the house (it was for sale, which was why I was able to see the layout) and then used research from 1930s interiors to imagine how it might look. The fridge and the washing machine though electric, are some of the first versions of what we think of as fridge and washing machine. The fridge basically looked like a one cabinet icebox (I used the fact that Mildred would have lived in a rural area to have her have one, though electric fridges became very popular in the late 30s and 40s), and the washer looked very similar to its non-electric counterpart, but with a self moving basin. Albert China has a lot of different (and not as rare or as valuable) counterparts, but I did one based on what was made during the Queen's Jubilee. Story Stuff: I am anticipating a question here-what about a wheelchair for Roger? For I wondered the same thing. Houses weren't really built for people with disabilities, and doorways at the house I looked at really wouldn't have fit a 1940s wheelchair. I may mention that later, but I Thought I would mention it here too. Hopefully the first part of this chapter wasn't too wordy and bland. We will get into more action-y stuff very soon! I would love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading!
