Killian stamped his boots vigorously on the mat just inside the door of the cold and nearly empty building. It had been, according to Mary Margaret, the administrative offices and classrooms of a church that had long since moved to a larger facility. While the fixtures and whatnot were a bit dated, she was right that it might make for a great space for their school. The concrete floors were polished and painted, the walls a bit scuffed from years of people walking by over and over again.
"I think it might work wonderfully," Mary Margaret said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. The newly married teacher's light blue coat barely concealed the growing evidence of her pregnancy and her face was nearly always flushed with excitement lately. "We could put our offices over there. And the whole second floor plus the rest of this one can be classrooms."
He hummed a hesitant approval as he peered down the long hallway. "It's compliant?" he asked, remembering the thick stack of forms that she had found on the state's website about accessibility. "Elevator, door width, and all that?" His hand reached up and loosened the warm and overly large woolen scarf around his neck. Granny had knitted it and given to him as a gift just a few weeks ago, her gruff demeanor not letting on at all. "If not, that would be expensive."
She didn't seem annoyed that he would question her judgement, flipping through the flyers that the realtor had given her in their morning meeting. It had been a feat to find an out of town realtor willing to show them properties in Storybrooke. When Mary Margaret had seen the place the day before, she had known it was what she wanted and arranged to borrow the key to show Killian herself. They had even parked two blocks away and walked in the misty rain so they wouldn't be spotted. But the secrecy was necessary given Mr. Gold's ownership of almost all commercial properties. "It is. There's nothing really wrong with it other than price."
He opened one of the doors to a classroom, finding a smattering of child size tables and chairs stacked in two corners. Empty bulletin boards and dry erase boards lined two walls. "And all this stuff?"
"Comes with it," she assured him, passing him to stand in the center of the room. She spread her arms out wide. "Perfect for kindergarten, don't you think?"
He tilted his head back and forth without answering. "No desk for the teacher," he pointed out. "And they'd have to travel quite far to get to the playground for recess. Might be a bit difficult for such young lads and lasses not to disturb the rest of the school."
Her perma-smile seemed to fade momentarily but was back almost instantly. "Then we'll do kindergarten at the end of the hall. It's not a big deal, Killian."
"You really think this is the place?"
"Killian, it's perfect. I've already told you the reasons, but if you want to hear them again…" She smiled, reaching out and touching his arm. "It's scary. I know that. But it's what we need to do. This town needs us to do this. Think about the children who are not reaching their full potential because Gold is just about the money. He wants their tuition and doesn't care about anything else other than test scores. We would be that more.
We would make a difference in their lives."
He chuckled at her enthusiastic speech of hope. "And the money? I don't know about you, but teaching has hardly left me with a windfall. What if we take this place and can't make the payments? What if parents don't want to give us a chance? We could be sitting here come next year with bills piled high and a bunch of empty classrooms."
"I'm glad you asked that," she said, digging into the leather bag on her shoulder. She pulled out a single red file and smiled. "I worked up the numbers. The number of students we would need. The staff we need. The figures for the mortgage, utilities, supplies, insurance, and all that. Potterfield's school is closing in June. We are nearly a lock for gaining their students since it's not that far away. And surely some of Gold's enrollment will follow us." She pursed her lips as if trying to make up her mind. "And as for the money, I sort of have a plan for that. See I have some funds in trust from when my parents passed away. I was supposed to find a good cause…"
He looked incredulous as she passed him the folder. He groped at it, unseeing anything but her hopeful expression. "You would use your own money to finance this? You believe in it that much?"
"I do," she said, touching his arm.
"Mary Margaret, this is amazing, but I can't…I can't match you here. I just paid for renovations on my house. I don't know that I can even…"
"I'm not asking you to contribute more," Mary Margaret said, patting his arm. "I'm going to go check out the space that might make for a good cafeteria. You look at those numbers and see if you're willing to take this leap with me."
Her numbers were strong, he admitted to himself, perching on a window sill and running his finger down the page. She had thought of everything from dry erase markers to health insurance premiums. There were even line items for all weather mats and travel expenses related to conferences. He didn't want to be the person to tell her no, as that seemed unusually cruel. But he felt a bit useless if she was going to front so much of the money. Pulling out his phone, he called Emma. He knew that she would hesitate in telling him what to do, but he wanted to hear her reasonable voice.
"Hey," she said softly when she realized it was him. "How is it? Mary Margaret seemed excited."
"It's quite a lovely spot," he agreed, keeping his own voice low in the echoing room.
"She's a determined sort of lass."
He could hear her shifting, probably moving away from a sleeping Henry to continue the conversation without hesitation of waking him. "That's better," she said, her voice a little stronger. "All it took was suggesting Henry do some reading for class and he was out like a light. I should remember that next time he wants to stay up all night for absolutely no reason at all."
"He's feeling better then?" Killian asked, already feeling warmer in the drafty building with her voice in his ear.
"He's still acting puny, but he's better. No fever and definitely less congestion. I think he's trying to prove he's better and ready to take on the responsibilities of adopting this dog. We need to make a decision by the way. Are we keeping him or not?"
"Henry? I thought that was a given, love. He's your son and my student. I can't imagine sending him off now." His smile grew with her exasperated sigh.
"You know I meant the dog, wise guy." She paused, the echo of her foot steps on the stairs stopping with her. "So what's wrong? You sound worried."
"Perplexed, perhaps a bit stressed, but not worried," he teased. It only took a moment before he confessed his misgivings to her. He did not want Mary Margaret to shoulder all the burden and risk on the venture, which he explained to Emma. She seemed to understand.
"So what do you want to do?" she asked softly. "We could dip into savings to see if you could help more. Or you could…"
"Hardly ideal, love. We don't have huge amounts about. Perhaps I could secure a loan with the house as collateral. Still that is a huge risk and puts you and Henry in danger as well. I don't relish the thought of that." He looked out at the watery landscape of the rainy fall day. "Perhaps there might be another way, but I don't know what it could be."
"What did Mary Margaret say?"
"She's so excited about this, and hardly seems to recognize the risk of it. I wonder if we are being too rash. It is a small town with a public school, the Storybrooke Academy, and now this. It seems that there are not enough students for us all." He sighed, leaning his forehead on the cool glass. "I feel like I'm a bit of a pessimist to bring that up now."
Emma was quiet for a moment and he wondered if they had become disconnected. It was the day before Thanksgiving, a busy day that meant so many people out on the roads. While the rain put a damper on that, he was seeing cars splashing water from the gutters and wipers on at a steady pace. The gray day seemed like an unending saga of near twilight despite it still being just about time for lunch.
"You know that I wouldn't stop you if this is what you want to do," she answered. "You love teaching. You've said that a million times. And this plan of yours and Mary Margret's sounds amazing. If you want to get a loan, then I say let's go to the bank on Friday and get a freakin' loan."
"That easy?" he teased, knowing that it would take lots of paperwork at the very least.
"Not everything has to be hard. You want this. I have a good job. So let's make this happen." She sounded very matter of fact. He could picture her in her asymmetrical sweater and leggings. She was probably sitting in the window seat in their office, much as he was sitting at the window too. Her blonde hair had been pulled up in a messy bun that morning when he left, but was probably down now in waves.
"I could use the boat as collateral," he said thoughtfully. She's worth a good bit even if I haven't finished restoring her yet.
"I love that boat," Emma protested.
"And you don't love the house? I hardly think a bank will give me money based on my jeep and your antique of a car, love. Besides we are talking about purchasing a new car."
"Yeah, a mom van," she said sullenly, still bitter at the idea she was old enough for such transportation. "Go tell her that you're going to do it. You don't want someone to snatch up that place without you."
"Emma, are you sure about this? It's risky…"
"It's what you want. I'm in. Now go talk to her or she'll spend all Thanksgiving trying to convince you."
***AAA***
Liam stared at the invoice and compared it to the list of provisions that he had ordered, finding the discrepancies to be more than Zelena's claim of just a paperwork error. He ran a finger over the numbers again, quick math only confirming his suspicions. The numbers were just not adding up, which meant that either Zelena was completely incompetent or her scheming had found another way to make money. He felt the heat of his anger simmering at his boss for putting him in such a position.
"You're cute when you're working like that," Elsa said, leaning over the back of the sectional to kiss his cheek, her legs momentarily going up in the air. With his quick reflexes, he caught her and held her in place as he planted a firmer kiss to her lips. She squealed dramatically and kicked her legs midair.
"I prefer more masculine adjectives, darling," he teased, appreciating her flustered look as she righted herself back to standing.
"You have to earn those," she challenged back. "And right now, cute is just what you are, Liam."
Wearing a flannel shirt dress in green and purple, leggings and ballet flats, Elsa came round the sofa to sit next to him. Her long hair was clipped back and flowed loosely down in waves that resembled cascading snow in the winter sun. She mimicked his kicked back position, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning her head toward his. "I thought you weren't working until later."
"Robin couldn't make the practice so I thought I'd get a head start on the ordering. It'll help my mind rest easy if I have that done before the music festival this weekend." Tossing the invoice on the pile next to him, he threw his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "What about you? I thought this was some sort of marathon cooking day for you and your sister? Weren't you complaining about all the chopping and sautéing left to be done?"
"Yeah," she said, nosing at his soft flannel collar. "So Regina called while we were shopping. Seems that the headliner that the city of Portland had lined up for the tree lighting tomorrow night cancelled. Something about a sore throat. Anyway, they'd like me to sing a few songs, plus Oh Holy Night for the lighting of the tree."
He watched her shift, her expression mildly hopeful. "Sounds as if that might be a bit of a step down for you? I mean you cancelled your tour dates and you end up singing in a mall parking lot?"
"It's on a stage in the city park," she said defensively yet kindly. "My parents used to take us to it every year. It's kind of a nostalgic big deal. So I was thinking that we do the parade, football, and lunch with your brother and Emma and then we head to Portland. Anna said she wants to come too so she can start the tradition with her own family. What do you say?"
"Sounds quite festive, darling. I'm sure that Emma and Killian will understand our absence at dinner."
"Good," she said, snuggling deeper into his side. "So that means I don't have to cook at my sisters. We have some time before you have to go into work."
He hummed under his breath, placing his fingers under her chin to lift. She thought he might assault her lips with kisses then, but instead his mouth was on her neck, creating a trail up to her ear with licks and pecks. Ghosting his lips over her soft round cheeks, he again skipped over her mouth and trailed down the other side of her neck, nuzzling against her playfully.
"You…" she began, tilting her head back to allow him better access.
He was sure she was about to protest his teasing and smiled against her warm skin. "I what, darling?" Her arms circled lazily around his shoulders, holding him in place without any pressure at all.
It was then that the doorbell chimed sharply and she pushed back from his embrace. "You better answer the door."
His eyebrows lifted upward. "I don't think that's what you were going to say, but I'll take the hint." Nipping at the tip of her nose, he sighed. "It's good to be back home with you, Elsa."
She hugged herself as he rose and walked toward the small foyer of their condo. It was good to be home. There was a simple and comfortable feeling about not being a houseguest. And with the guard ever vigilant and security measures in place, she felt safe enough in the confines of the condo. And she hoped that he did too.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Elsa stood from the couch and ran the few steps to see what the trouble was in their foyer. From her vantage point she could see her broad shouldered boyfriend standing with a large hand firmly on the door about to push it shut. There was clearly another person on the other side of him, but she could not make out even a shadow. "Liam?" she asked, not getting an answer. "What's wrong?"
"You've got it wrong, brother. I'm not here to do anything but apologize."
Elsa stopped in her tracks, her right foot skidding a bit on the floor. That wasn't Killian's voice and that was not the way that Liam would react to the middle of the three brothers. It had to be the younger, the one also named Liam. Her Liam was still standing there as a shield between them, but as she leaned to the right she could make out a tall yet lanky man who was considerably less mature looking than his brothers. His hair was a bit too long in comparison and uneven as he ran a hand nervously through it.
"You should go," the oldest brother said, pushing slightly on the door only to have it catch in the visitor's hands. "I could call the authorities, you know?"
"I only wish to apologize to you and to Elsa," the younger man repeated. "Please. Just hear me out."
***AAA***
Dodging raindrops on his trip from Mary Margaret's SUV to the front door, Killian gave his co-worker a sturdy wave and shifted the two canvas shopping totes on his left arm. "See you tomorrow," he called out to her before unlocking the door. The still new alarm system seemed to beguile the comfortable nature of the seaside house, but it was a necessary evil. Even with the sturdy locks, he preferred the sense of security that he knew was important in keeping Emma and Henry safe.
"Hello," he called out, kicking the door shut behind him. There was no immediate answer and the room, though filled with the warm scents of a casserole baking and bread in the bread machine, was silent and empty from other people. He dropped the last minute Thanksgiving shopping on the counter and leaned to peer into the bedrooms only to find them empty too. "Emma?"
The only response was the patter of the newly adopted dog's feet on the hardwoods upstairs. Since the security gate was down, he reasoned that Emma and Henry must have taken refuge upstairs for the afternoon. Grabbing Emma's favorite knitted blanket, he bounded up the stairs and breathed a relieved sigh as he spied them in the office.
Henry's mouth was open in a slight snore with his still stuffy nose, his history text splayed on his chest and open to a page about the Oregon Trail. Eyes closed and legs wrapped in a thick afghan, his iPod and headphones dangled at his side. Killian secured each of the items and untangled the afghan to cover his soon to be stepson against the chill in the fall air. He gave the boy a final caress to his forehead, checking to ensure the fever he had been running on Monday was still at bay.
Though he had endeavored to be quiet, Killian heard Emma's groggy voice greet him. "Hey there," she said from the window seat that offered a view of the inlet and the choppy water there. "He said he was going to study. I don't think he got through a whole chapter." She was propped against the built in shelving, pillows piled high behind and beside her. Instead of a book she was holding her tablet.
"It appears you have fallen to a similar fate, my love," he said, kissing her forehead gently. "Wedding planning exhausting you?" His eyes scanned the screen and widened at the recognition of a site about pregnancy and maternal health.
She recognized the look. "Whoa, buddy," she said, snatching back the tablet. "I was trying to come up with some ideas for baby showers for Mary Margaret and Anna."
"Ahhhh," he said, frowning at the lack of room for him on the built in seat. The newly acquired black lab was resting comfortably at the end of Emma's bent legs, his head using one of her thighs as a pillow. Though he wasn't asleep, his rhythmic breathing was slow and eyes sad as he stared at Killian.
"Don't worry," she continued, pulling him down by the material of his sweater for a kiss. "I don't intend on being a pregnant bride. Mary Margaret and Anna pulled that off just fine, but I'm thinking Ruby's wedding dress design is a little more form fitting."
His lips slid against hers easily, hand diving into her hair. When she pulled back, he did not immediately release his grip, leaning his forehead against hers and marveling at the softness of her against him. "Beautiful view," he whispered.
She laughed softly, cradling his face in her hand and giving him a quick peck before turning her eyes toward the window. "The clouds are pretty incredible. I know you had this room built so we could do work from home, grading papers, going over contracts and all that, but it is so peaceful to watch the clouds build over the water. It's cold in here, but it looks like summer thunderstorms are building."
"I brought your blanket for you," he said, pointing to where he had placed hers near where Henry was still slumbering. "But it appears Sparrow's got that job covered."
"Jealous?" she asked with a smirk.
"Hardly. I just thought we might cuddle up here and watch those clouds you seem so fond of these days. We've got a while left on the timer before we are back to kitchen duty."
Pursing her lips in the pretense of considering his offer, she finally broke out a smile and nudged the lab with her knee. "Make some room," she told the sweetly dispositioned dog. While Henry had not been up for much playtime with his new pet, the dog's appearance in their home was welcome. They had named him Captain Jack Sparrow after a movie marathon gave Henry the idea. It was quickly reduced to Sparrow for practical purposes. The dog lifted his head, looked questioningly at Emma and then lumbered in retreat to situate himself near Henry. Emma patted the warm and now vacant spot. "All yours."
Bringing the blanket with him, Killian eagerly sat with her, pulling the blanket around both of them and depositing a series of kisses on her cheeks, nose, chin and then mouth. "Much better," he declared. "That old building and then the grocery store were both quite drafty. Left me chilled to the bone."
"You did like the building though?"
"It was lovely, but expensive. I'm not sure we're fully prepared to finance such a space what with all the other costs. Mary Margaret has often mentioned that she wants us to build a school that is quality driven, student focused, and accessible. I fear this might not be the right option for that. Mary Margaret is convinced though that her budget can stretch that far. We shall see."
Emma nodded, her expression compassionate as she rubbed his arm gently. "There's bound to be a space. You just have to find it. And as for money, we'll figure it out."
"Aye, it's not dire yet. I did get a call from my father's doctor while I was out. He said he'll be happy to go over any concerns about the surgery, if we would wish." He let his head drop against the bookcase on his left. "He seemed quite surprised that I would even consider it."
"Are you?" she asked, her fingers digging into the woven sweater a little deeper. "I mean do you have questions?"
"I'm not so sure I do. His doctor has been quite forthcoming about what the surgery and recovery would entail. He's given us a list of possible complications and a few suggestions for second opinions. He even gave me the name of a therapist who might be of some use. I'm not sure my lack of enthusiasm for doing this is for any practical reason." His knee bounced. "I just don't relish the idea of giving any more of myself to that man. Even if that does make me selfish."
"Nobody can blame you for that." She squeezed his arm a little tighter and then drifted her hand down to his. "If you're selfish, then I am so much worse. I don't want to lose you because of that man. And the thought of you going under the knife simply because he wouldn't put down the bottle until it was too late." She frowned, her fingers gliding between his. "That's not very fair of me, is it? He's your father. And if you want to do this, then you should. It's your decision, not mine."
"I want to know what you think, Emma. It does affect you too." Head still resting on the coolness of the wood, his eyes slowly closed. "I don't want to…disappoint you."
"You aren't," she assured him, tugging his hand in her own. "I swear. I think you're pretty awesome in case you didn't realize that. If you want to save the world, I'm not going to stop you from being a hero. I'm just worried…And I guess I don't know what I'd do in your situation."
"I know you pretty well, love. You'd give a limb to save Mary Margaret, Ruby, Elsa, or Henry. I'd like to think you might do the same for me. You're one of the most unselfish people I know." His eyes reopened and he pulled their entwined hands toward his mouth, dropping a kiss there just below her thumb.
"Have you even met me?" she asked incredulously. "I am a horrible patient and would probably end up in prison for murdering everyone who annoyed me. That's a long list, really long." She grew serious as his expression softened and mouth parted to argue against her self-assessment. "Either way. It's still your decision. And like we said, you don't have to make it today. Think about it. Consider it. And then decide. Nobody will blame you or fault you either way. If you do it, if you don't, I'm still going to love you and see the best in you."
His fingers tensed in her grip. "I love you too, Emma. So much." It might have been the perfect moment to kiss her and show her just how much. But he didn't. He couldn't. The doorbell ringing was a deafening chime through the newly completed space. Even Henry stirred from his deep sleep at the intrusion. "Hold that thought, love. I'll be back in a shake."
She smiled, reaching for her tablet again and tucking her feet under the warm blanket. Forehead on the cold glass window pane, the fog of her breath was evident. Had she been a more immature person she might have traced out a heart or their initials in the whitish color. She didn't get the chance as Killian's voice carried up the stairs. It was Graham at the door and there was something wrong with Liam.
Graham pulled the patrol car into the semicircular drive in front of the hospital and let Killian out. He promised he would be back in a few minutes after he finished the reports that would be needed. Killian didn't even ask what he meant by that or what could be the issue. He was too busy throwing himself into a caretaker mode and running toward where his brother was located. He pushed through the double doors to the hospital, not waiting on the automatic opener to work and jog walked the last few steps until he spotted Elsa sitting there with her eyes glued to her phone. "Is he awake? What's going on?"
He immediately felt bad for questioning her, as her red rimmed eyes said enough. She was barely holding it together and her normally measured response was one of fear as she cut her eyes from him to the doors to admitting and back again. "He's back there. I can't get any information because I'm not family." She pursed her lips tightly. "I don't know who this HIPPA person is, but I'd like to wring his neck."
Licking his tongue between his lips, Killian scanned the crowded waiting area for someone in a uniform. He didn't really care what their position was so long as they provided him with answers. "Be right back," he announced, marching over toward a gray haired woman with a frown that seemed to be permanently set in her face. "Excuse me, I'm here about Liam Jones."
She was looking at her screen with a bored sort of movement to pick up the clipboard on the counter. "Are you family?"
"I'm his brother," Killian said, leaning his elbows on the counter. "Is he…"
"The doctor will talk to you shortly," she said in a monotone. "I don't have any information here."
He quickly assessed his unlikely chances at getting her to say more and chose to find someone else to interrogate on his older brother's condition. However, he had barely made a squeak with the turning of his shoes on the tile floor when she called him back.
"Which patient was it again?"
"Liam Jones," he repeated, unsure why she was so forgetful as to not remember a four letter first name and common last name. He widened his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Which one?" Her tone was still rough, but she seemed genuinely confused.
"You have more than one here?" he asked in return, turning to look at Elsa who was now walking toward him. "He's here too?"
"Yeah, I should have mentioned. I thought Graham must have when he went to pick you up today, but I'm guessing not. So Liam and I were at the condo and your younger brother showed up. Said he wanted…"
Killian threw up a hand to stop her explanation and spun back to the woman behind the counter. "I'm the brother of both of them," he clarified for her. "Can I get an update as soon as possible?" He placed his hand under Elsa's elbow and led her back to the supremely uncomfortable seats where she had been. "Talk."
She did, explaining that the younger Liam had shown up and said he was there to apologize. The older brother had not believed him, becoming agitated and angry over the entire situation. When she tried to intervene, her boyfriend had not reacted well at all and pushed his younger brother out into the hallway. She had been unsure what to do and stood motionless until she heard the sound of something hitting the wall. "It made the pictures that we just hung shake," she told him, exhaling sharply. "I opened the door and they were both…so much blood."
"Did he say anything to you?" Killian asked. "Liam…I mean…bloody hell. Did my older brother try to say anything to you? Was he conscious? How bad was this whole bit?"
"He said just his hand was hurt," Elsa said, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "Killian, I've never seen him like this. To be honest it was scary. He was just so angry."
"You know he's not normally like that. I know few who are as level headed as my brother. I would think that our younger brother must have said something to
Not sure what he could say to assuage the situation or her perception, he patted her arm and stood again. "I'm going to see if there's someone else I can…" He stopped, watching as the fair haired Dr. Whale sauntered out, shoving a pen into his white coat pocket. "Victor?"
The doctor threw his hands up in a mock surrender. "Not me," he said, feeling his nametag with his right hand. "I just saw them though and they both look fine." He smirked. "So a younger brother? Are you sure there aren't more of the Joneses around? Seems like an awful lot for a small town."
"If you're not their doctor, then who is?" Killian was clearly in no mood to mess about with trifle details. He wanted information on his brothers, particularly the older Liam.
"I'll see that he comes out here for you," Victor said, sliding past Killian. "But do you mind if I get a coffee first?" He took about two steps under Killian's watchful eye and turned around again. "Or I could go get him now."
"You do that," Killian said, rolling his eyes. He was somewhat glad that Ruby had found herself in a relationship with someone other than the doctor. He wasn't sure if he wanted Victor as a permanent fixture in their lives of the family they had created with friends.
***AAA****
"So I think the way to go is stripes," Mary Margaret announced, holding up three varying fabric samples to her husband. "I think the polka dots are too busy and the solid just isn't flashy enough. So stripes?"
"If it makes you happy, then stripes it is," he said, twirling the screwdriver through his fingers. "But we aren't going to need to worry about fabric samples if we can't get this thing built."
The rocking chair had been high on the expectant mom's wish list, a must have accessory for the room. She'd even asked that David start on it earlier than her due date, as she thought it might be nice to rock and talk to the baby while she was still expecting. So they had spent the last few weeks visiting every store in and out of town to find the perfect one. She'd been particular, measuring seats and seeing if her feet met the floor with her back against the cushion. She wanted high arms to aid her in keeping the baby in the right position. And it had to be just the right shade of whitewashed wood to go with the crib that Marco had designed for them. In the end they had found just the right thing. The only problem? It was an assembly project that was currently scattered across their living room.
"Good thing we aren't hosting dinner for Thanksgiving this year," she said brightly, her toes pointing toward an unseemly amount of wood and screws. "As talented as you are, I'm not sure you'll have this done before Christmas."
"If my wife had found any of the other choices acceptable, we would be sitting in the chair and not building it right now." David smiled as she looked slightly sheepish. "But I know, everything is going to be perfect for our baby."
She bit her lip, dropping the fabric samples back to her rapidly disappearing lap. The doctors had told her that once her second trimester hit that she'd find the changes to her body coming much quicker. They were right. "So don't kill me, but…"
"You do realize that nothing good has ever come of starting a sentence that way?"
"I know, I know. It's just that my site visit with Killian got me thinking." She pressed her hand to the spot where the baby was kicking and smiled at the sensation. "Maybe we could consider a second nursery. At the new school?"
He didn't immediately freak out at the thought of extra work or chastise her for again changing her mind on something. Instead he muttered something about bracket b and joint d needing to be joined. "I thought that you were thinking less of an administrative role and more of a teaching one?"
"I think I'd miss the kids for sure, but this is my vision of a school I'm creating. Shouldn't I be the one making the decisions and whatnot?"
Sitting back on his heels, David watched as she softly ran her hands over the same spot where the baby had been kicking. He knew that she was nervous and even concerned about being a good mother, as they had these conversations often and came to realize neither were fully prepared for the challenge. Still, they wanted to be as ready as they could be and set about educating themselves. Lately, his wife had taken to reading to the baby each night, actually having conversations with the growing child within her.
"Have you asked Killian what he thinks? Maybe he's planning something?"
She shrugged, rocking backward to propel herself up to standing. "He's been great about picking out the best curriculum and seeing that we at least have all the documents and forms we need for the state. He made a few contacts for furniture from a charter school that's closing after merging with a larger one. So there's that. But I think his heart is set on teaching. I mean he's said that before when Regina's been after him about more singing and writing gigs. He's feeling a bit weird about the money, but I told him I'm not expecting a huge investment from him."
"I say talk to him. And before we look at adding nurseries all around town, remember that Ashley agreed to make us a deal about daycare."
She bent at her waist the best she could, kissing the top of his head. "You're always so sensible." Pressing her cheek to the spot she had just kissed, she smiled. "Want something to eat? I've got about two hours of baking to do for tomorrow."
"I'll fix a sandwich later," he assured her, turning his attention back to building the chair. He had started twisting another bolt when he felt her eyes on him. "I know that look. What's wrong?"
"Do you think this is a horrible idea?" she asked, looking for all the world about 10 years younger than her late 20s. "The money. I know that my parents set it aside for me to do something great with it."
"And you don't think this is it?" David looked perplexed, but she wasn't sure if it was the assembly project or the question. "You've dreamed about this."
"I know," she said, circling the narrow island in the kitchen. "I love teaching. I really do. I just don't know if I should sink every penny into a school. What if…what if it doesn't work out?"
David lowered the small tool he was holding and watched her nervously pace. Finally, he pushed himself up to his feet with a groan at the tight muscles. "Well, let's think about this for a minute. First we don't know that it will fail. It could be a success. I think it will be actually. Then there is the money. We have been doing well enough on my salary and yours. Even before you considered this private school idea, we had talked about simply living on my salary so that you could take some time off with the baby."
***AAA***
"Is Liam okay?" Emma asked, hurrying down the stairs and pulling her ponytail tighter as she went. "What the hell happened?"
"Both are physically well," he said, shaking his hand through his hair that that was damp from the rain. "Both are now also out on signature bonds."
"Both," Emma repeated. "I never got the full story out of Elsa. So they both pressed charges?"
"Aye, it seems that stubborn pig headedness is a family trait, love. Sure you wish to marry into such a family?" Smiling sheepishly, he turned his cheek closer to her as she brushed her lips against it.
"I'll take my chances," Emma agreed. "I'm known to be pretty stubborn too. God help our children coming from the two of us."
His breath caught in his chest as he looked at her curiously. She was self-consciously pushing an errant curl behind her ear and shifting her weight from one sock covered foot to the other. "You've changed, Emma," he said softly in a tone not meant to scare her. "There was a time you would not have said a word of us someday having children, even in jest."
She pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, the tip of her ponytail brushing his arm that was about her waist. "Well, it seems pretty safe to do so. And so far it hasn't scared you off."
"Aye, it's a lovely thought." He dropped his forehead to hers and simply breathed in and out for a few moments. "Liam has injured his hand from hitting our younger brother. A few bruised knuckles is all and a few stitches on his cheek. Minor scuffle really."
"Elsa's taking him home, I would imagine."
"She's in quite a pickle though what with her singing out of town. Graham won't let either of my brother's out of town until they see the judge on Monday. Her aunt has plans to come see her sing. So I suppose we'll get Robin or perhaps Will to go sit guard over him so that he does nothing stupid in her absence. I don't know. He was looking rather ashamed of his behavior as she was loading him up."
"He could come stay here while she's gone," Emma said, running her hand over the still damp hair at the back of his neck. "I know he'd rather be at the condo, but we've got the bed here."
He pressed his eyes shut and scrunched his nose as if trying to ward off the punch she might throw. "I'm afraid that my brother might not be allowed within 500 feet of here."
"What?" she asked, pulling back from his embrace. "You didn't?"
"He had no place to go," Killian answered, speaking quickly. "Graham would have had no choice but jail for the lad if I hadn't…It's only for tonight. It seems he has a friend who may…it's only for tonight."
"Your younger brother, who has been stalking your older brother and his girlfriend. Your younger brother, who nearly killed Elsa in that stunt on the road…Your younger brother who…" She stepped back and gripped the back of the couch in her hands as if ready to fall over from surprise. "You want him staying under our roof? Are you kidding me?"
"I set him up on the boat."
"Why not Granny's? Or a shelter? Or why not jail? He could probably use the fear of God being put into him in jail. Killian, this is such a bad idea." She pushed her oversized sleeves up her arms and then pulled them back do
"He won't be a hassle, love. I told him that he's to stay there. I will keep an eye on him."
"You do realize this is insane, right?" She gripped his sweater sleeve tighter in her hand. "Of course you do. That's why you look like you're ready for me to go nuts yelling at you about it."
"Emma, I couldn't leave him alone in a jail cell over a bloody holiday."
She frowned, shaking her head. "You can't save the world, Killian, but I guess you're going to try. Okay, so you'll let him stay on the boat. It's fine. It'll be fine. Did you invite him up to the house for dinner? Should I plan an extra spot for tomorrow?"
"I didn't think that far in advance," he admitted sheepishly. "I was more concerned over just trying to keep both my brothers out of jail and the hospital. Bloody hell, "Neal's wedding is this weekend I suppose I'll have to find a sitter of sorts if he's still here. I doubt Neal and his fiancé wish to have another Jones on hand for their nuptials."
"We won't go," she said stubbornly. "I've been looking for an excuse. I don't know that I can make nice with Neal or his father."
He ran his hand up her back, fingertips dancing along her spine. "We can't skip out on the wedding. Henry's a part of the festivities. We have to be adults."
"Can I at least hit them?" she asked, sounding serious about the idea of violence. "I just need one good punch to the face for him and I'll be fine."
His laugh wasn't loud, but she felt it vibrate against her chest before he pulled back to look at her. "If it comes to that, I won't stop you. I'll even find the funds to bail you out of jail."
"Don't worry," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I'm totally not going to ruin the wedding by decking them. We'll let Neal and his bride have their day. But if I find a voodoo doll between now and then…watch out!" She made a stabbing motion with her fingers clutching an imaginary pin. "So back to the subject. You don't have any questions about the surgery, but have you made a decision?"
He sighed, cocking his head far to the right so as to almost touch his ear to his shoulder. "I suppose not, but I am leaning that way. I don't know what the timeframe is regarding that. I suppose I will have to see and make a decision." He frowned, the lines between his eyes and farther up his forehead deepening. "Are you thinking differently, love?"
She wrinkled her own nose, tightening her arms around him. "It's going to sound crazy."
"Last night when Henry couldn't sleep, he and I had a long conversation about aliens and if they relieve themselves the same way as we do. I assure you that nothing you say right now could sound crazy after that."
She laughed silently, vibrating with the effort to hold it back. "I'm glad I missed that one. But I was thinking about this surgery thing. What if something goes wrong?"
"I've told you, love, I'm a survivor and have no intention of leaving you to grieve. I'll be here for the long haul and you'll not be rid of me." He ducked his head to catch her glance, smiling hopefully at her.
"That's good to know, but still…What I'm asking or saying or whatever is what if something happens. I was on the phone with Elsa and know that she couldn't make a single decision about your older brother. Your brothers would have more rights to make decisions about you than I do. And before you freak out thinking I'm talking about inheriting money or something. I was just thinking that girlfriend or fiancé means I'm out in the waiting room and not by your side. And I think you know that would kill me too."
"That is a good point, love. Perhaps we should do something about that. Not that I'm saying I will have the surgery, but it's best to be prepared."
"Killian, it's fine. We'll figure something out. I'm sorry. We need to be worrying about your job and not my concern over who gives me updates at the hospital." She trailed her right hand down his neck and to his chest, resting it over his beating heart. "So how soon do you think Mary Margaret and you can get this school up and running?"
The corners of his mouth lifted and his hand returned to her face, thumb caressing her cheek and jaw before his index finger touched her lips to silence her. "Marry me?"
She tilted her head back and lifted her left hand to show off the ring again. "I thought we established that I would. Fiancé, remember?"
"As soon as possible," he clarified, nonplussed. "We can still have our lovely wedding by the water with your frock designed by Ruby and our every moment planned by Mary Margaret. But perhaps we should do this now…settle all this so there is no question as to our status."
"Killian," she breathed, her shoulders falling slack. "I…"
"Marry me?"
"You don't have to…" She looked away again, turning her eyes toward the stairs would be clamoring down soon. She saw the mixture of their photos on the walls, some from his life and some from hers. But most were from their days together. "We have time."
"Marry me?" His eyes barely blinked as he looked at her, the bright blue darker than usual and his lips still threatening to spill into a smile. "Emma Swan, will you marry me?"
She ran her teeth over her bottom lip. "When?" she asked, shaking her head. "I don't have a dress. You don't have…"
"I'd say tomorrow, but as it's a holiday, how about Friday. Should be relatively quiet at the courthouse. Everyone else will be shopping. And you don't need a dress. We only need each other, right?" He lifted her chin with his fingers, locking gazes with her again. "Marry me?"
"This is crazy"
"Aye, you warned me that it would be, love. So? What do you say? Marry me?"
Her head began to nod before she managed the one word answer. "Yes."