Chapter 35 A Rock Upon Which to Cling

Belle leaned over the table where her Papa's will was spread out in front of her. She had tried to wipe away the tears that formed in her eyes several times, but at each attempt new ones sprang up, and so she eventually stopped trying altogether.

Roger had held her a great deal that day as she read and reread the love and concern that was evident in the cold black ink of the written will.

'He did think of me.' She spoke through tears, Roger said nothing at first, still standing beside her, rubbing her back comfortingly, gliding his free hand through her hair and pulling it away from her wet face in a soothing gesture.

'Aye.' She heard him whisper finally.

'When he first passed away.' She swallowed, a lump had formed in her throat throughout the whole of the reading and had yet to go away. 'I was angry with him for leaving me at the mercy of Morris. My mother was his most beloved treasure, he mourned her for the rest of his life, I could hardly believe he would leave me destitute, yet I did believe it. How could I have been so stupid and inconsistent?!' Her voice had reached a panicked pitch angry at herself for the thoughts that had more than once come to her mind those first few weeks after her Papa had passed away.

'Hey, hey, Belle, shhhh, none of that now. You were grieving, and sometimes when we grieve our thoughts aren't completely rational. Add to that your brother's desire for control and it's easy to understand how you could have come to that conclusion. Donnae blame yourself, sweetheart, alright?'

Belle nodded slowly and hesitantly through the veil of tears still stinging her eyes. 'I'll try, but I cannot but think that I was very unfair towards my father. It was so easy to think of the sick father who absently went along with whatever anyone suggested, rather than the stronger man who wrote this, the man who would hear of any little thing that I or another that he loved struggled with and immediately set out to invent something to alleviate the problem. He loved me, he did love and care about me, and while it sounds completely mercenary to think in such terms, I felt so abandoned and questioned that love for longer than I ought to have.'

Roger did not agree with her assessment, but did not do much more than comfort her as best as he could, which was more than enough for her state of mind.

Once she had somewhat come to terms with the things in the will, Roger gently addressed something else a day or two later.

'I think something should be done about the factory.'

Belle had been drying the dinner dishes at the time and she looked over at him quizzically.

'But I thought that was part of the deal with Morris sending the will -that you would not cause an investigation?'

'Aye, very true. I willnae do it. Dove on the other hand is very concerned.'

An honest to goodness smirk was planted on Roger's face, as if the whole idea greatly amused him. It was clever, Belle could admit, but she had hardly ever seen him in such a manner. She felt a chastising smile come to her own face as she put down the dish she had been drying to put a hand on her hip and look at him with mock exasperated eyes.

'Dove is so very concerned, is he?'

Roger shrugged, the smirk still plastered there. 'So he tells me.'

'Dove is a very good friend then, to take on such matters, hmmm?'

'Aye, a very faithful friend, I've found.'

They were both on the verge of out and out laughter, something that almost surprised Belle. She ought to feel nervous that Roger wanted to possibly stir up more trouble than had already been stirred, she should be solemn and grave with the thought of the havoc such an investigation could cause. However, she found instead that a warmth blossomed in her chest. Roger cared a great deal for her-that was never really a question, but with everything that he had gone through, and dealt with, her own troubles had always felt miniscule by comparison. Roger was not doing this out of desire for power or money, but out of love, out of the desire to take care of her, right her wrongs-her very knight in prosthetic armor. She couldn't help but view it in that very lens. She felt safe to leave it in his hands, knowing his kind heart would not allow harm to befall the innocent, and so she could now stifle a giggle at her husband's bemused smirk and be content that she was loved and cared for.

Life moved on, and Belle enjoyed a new task. They had decided some time back to rent a phone and to place some ads in the newspaper. While on one of Roger's treasure hunts, he had found something he quite liked, a good price, and he felt confident that he could restore it to its former glory.

'But we don't need it.' Belle had protested. She loved watching him work and restore. She loved watching the serious, determined look he got when he finally could set aside the homework he had been agonizing over or a textbook that he had read over a dozen times before groaning and pushing it away from him and then start back on his beloved hobby. The problem became when their little home began to feel…cluttered. They only needed one vintage clock to ascertain the time in the living room, they only needed one dark, victorian coffee table, they really didn't need a turn of the century vase, they already had more than Belle could put flowers in, however, Roger enjoyed the process of turning something dusty and broken into something that looked as if it had been bought at some sort of prestigious auction of vintage goods.

Roger's downcast eyes had her immediately pressing her hand to his and adding. 'But what if you fixed it up and sold it?'

He had been thoughtful for only a few seconds before his face had lit up and their new venture had begun.

It was not a booming business. For one thing, it could take Roger an entire week to restore only a small piece of some sort of trinket or treasure. With school, work, and everything going on with her father's will, he had very little time to work on it. However, once something had been brought back to its former glory, they would put an ad in the paper, and then Belle would answer the interested buyer's calls and handle the transactions. She loved interacting with those who came and bought, Roger was only glad to not have to do that side of things.

A cold Saturday in April had Belle once again looking through a veil of tears. She held onto Roger's hand even tighter. The past weeks had been ones of going through all the legal avenues of executing the will, and here was the product of such endeavors. Before her was the house that she thought would never be hers again.

'Are you ready, sweetheart?' Roger's voice was soft, concerned.

She could not answer, or else she would begin sobbing, so she nodded her head instead.

Roger knocked on the door, seeing how Belle was trembling where she stood. Last time she was here…

The last time she was here, her father had only died a few days before. The last time she was here, she had been told to pack a few belongings and vacate the only home she had ever known and live with a brother that didn't want her. Memories of leaving the home flashed before her eyes and she held onto Roger like a lifeline.

A blonde, youngish woman with a toddler at her skirts and another one on her hips answered the door. The children's faces were dirty and their clothes unkempt.

'I am Roger Gold and this is my wife Belle Gold, formerly French. We recently came into possession of the house and would like to come take a look at it and meet you and see what we are going to do, if that's alright?'

The woman's lips held a tight grimace.

'I got your letter, no need to repeat yourself.' She sighed, pulling the grubby arm off her skirt and trying to usher them in with a begrudging welcoming gesture.

Belle felt the tension and the coldness like a great wall, trying to bar them from entering. Enter it they did, however, shivering in the cold welcome the house gave them. For house was all it was anymore. The walls were bare of anything that reminded her of those days gone by, the living room was in chaotic disarray with toys, dirty clothes, and then even worse chalk and dried flakes of children's paint were scribbled or splattered on the walls. Roger's eyes must have been as big as hers. He didn't have to know how wonderfully cozy and beautiful the house had been before to see that it had gone through a dramatic change since then.

The kitchen was no better. Dishes with food that might have been there for days, were piled high in the sink, on the counters and at the kitchen table. Splatters decorated the cabinets and Belle's little domain had been so very cruelly mishandled.

She felt Roger squeeze her hand. He leaned over, pointing slightly to the small stove along one of the walls.

'Is that the stove that burnt the pie?'

Belle's eyes shot up to his, forgetting for a moment the state of the house, looking at the warmth in Roger's own eyes. That he could somehow bring a connection back to the home she once knew was amazing to her. For a moment she could not see the food splatters or fingerprints, but billowing smoke as she looked up in panicked horror from Kidnapped. A smile involuntary graced her face for a moment as she nodded. 'Yes, and the table is in the same place as our old one.'

'I've often tried to imagine the scene, and while it's a bit different than how it was before…' They glanced over at the woman who was continuing to glare at them throughout the tour. 'I can better picture it now. I think it was the letter over the burnt pie that first gave me those sort of fluttering feelings. Your character was so beautifully on display in that letter-you were so very real and wonderful, and I couldnae have imagined that one day I would get to be with someone as wonderful as you, Belle.'

Despite their glaring audience, Belle couldn't help an 'Oh, my dearest Roger' in such a moment and a very quick, but meaningful peck on the cheek, not feeling the ability to do anything more with such onlookers.

The rest of the house was in a similar, sorry state. Roger's breaking of the ice, helping her see beyond the clutter and filth to what was once there, helped her have the courage to walk through hard memories.

'This was Papa's room.' She had whispered, for she could not do it in any voice louder than that. It was a room especially hard to get through, the image of him laying on his bed, cold and so very gone that it threatened to cause her to buckle under the sorrow she felt. Roger, ever the strong rock to cling to, had nodded, understood, and they had quickly gone up the stairs to the rest of the house.

'My room.' She said and that was easier spoken. 'It was full of little things that Papa invented…and books, of course, so many books.' She was even able to offer a half smile, though the room had been turned into a topsy-turvy nursery.

Coming back down the stairs had her mostly silent, Roger's eyes went into his business like stiffness, placing his cane between his legs and leaning upon it, while Belle wrapped her arms around one of Roger's.

The woman could sense the change in them from equal amounts of horror and nostalgia, to the serious determination that had replaced the feelings.

'We've always paid our rent on time-Mr. French has never bothered us as long as our rent was paid.' She said quickly and worriedly.

'Obviously.' Roger mumbled. 'We had come today to meet you, as we did not want someone to be out of lodgings through no fault of their own. However, upon inspection, I believe we will be wanting the house vacated so as to update it a little. You only had a month left on your lease as it was and I don't think we will be renewing it-I apologize for any inconvenience, but I see it as time enough for you to find somewhere else to live.'

The lady did not seem surprised but sighed with exasperation and urged them out.

'I'm sorry, my Belle.' Roger said once they were outside in the sun that did nothing to break through the chill in the air.

'I would have thought…' Belle pulled in her lip, determined that she had shed the last of her tears, but finding there was always more at the ready. 'With Morris being so particular, that…'

'I think.' Roger broke in when her voice wavered. 'That with the knowledge that the house was genuinely yours, and not the company's, he probably saw it as another blow to you.'

This caused Belle to cry fresh tears, Roger led her to their car, rubbing her back and limping towards the car at the same time.

'It's not beyond repair.' he said with attempted optimism. ' A good clean and a fresh coat of paint and I think it would be usable again. And you can make a decision on what you would like to do with it.'

Belle silently nodded.

'Do you happen to know anyone here in town who could help us once they move out?'

Belle smiled once again through her tears and nodded.

'Yes, I believe I do know someone who could help us.'

Author's Note:

History Stuff:

Phones were rented, not bought in the 1940s.

I did study on the process of executing a will in Maine, but I still kept it vague so any inaccuracies that may have occurred would be minimal :)

Story Stuff:

This is basically part 1 of the end of the story! This means that the next chapter may be extra long, but bring everything together-plus I really like even numbered chapters, lol

I appreciate your patience with the space between updates. I did come back from my last summer 'big thing' a few days ago, but I had very little sleep while I was gone, and couldn't really finish or edit the chapter until today.

I know that there are so many loose ends that need to be tied up, and there are historical reasons why we still don't have Ruby or Jeffries coming and hanging out, of course. I'll give all those details in the history notes for the next chapter, but be rest assured that they will appear before it's all said and done and things should get wrapped up nicely *I hope*. I have the end scene that's been in my mind for some time and it's bittersweet to begin putting it into words.

I really enjoyed Roger being the strong person in this chapter. It's what is so wonderful about a healthy relationship. You are strong when the other needs that strength. I hope you enjoyed it too!

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! Your comments are always so encouraging :)