Gifted

20: It Is Not Over

The moon was bright as Charles and I walked hand in hand through my parents' estate gardens, talking quietly. His hair, which he had tied up for dinner, was loose again, and I smiled faintly as he brushed it from his face.

At last we found ourselves on a double swing hanging from a tree, and I kicked my little shoes off. I grinned slyly at Charles.

"Don't tell my mother." He laughed.

"Tell her that her daughter was showing me her ankles and toes? Never. She'd have my head for letting you." I laughed.

"But you've seen my toes," I said. "It doesn't matter." He chuckled and kissed my head. Then it was silent for several minutes. I heard him humming almost silently, and I smiled faintly as his cheek rested on my head, the swing rocking in rhythm.

Soon the crickets began chirping, and the doves began cooing, and the darkness grew a little, and I looked up at Charles. He smiled at me.

"Charles? What did you mean when you said the fight isn't over?" His smile faded, and I knew I had ruined the moment, but I had to know.

"Gerard said it wasn't over," he murmured. "I've learned not to underestimate him. He has connections everywhere, and who knows what he has planned." I looked down at my hands. "But nothing is going to happen. I promise." I leaned against him, feeling him breathe steadily, the hot air touching my hair. I closed my eyes as we listened to the crickets sing their rhythmic song while we sat in silence on the swing.

Finally we walked into the house, hand in hand, talking scarcely as the doors closed. The lights were dim, and my father was asleep in the fireside armchair. I smiled at him in a sad way; Charles and I couldn't be home alone. Too many things went wrong the recent segment of our lives to just relax.

I followed Charles to the kitchen, where he slumped down in a chair. I smiled tiredly at him as he rubbed his eyes. I watched him pull the ribbon from his hair, then run his fingers through it, eyes closed as he leaned his head back.

"Are you going to sleep here in the kitchen?" I asked.

"Maybe."

"I don't think that would be very comfortable," I giggled. He opened his eyes and smiled at me, the dark shadows under his eyes defined.

"Maybe not," he said wistfully, and I moved toward him. I gently stroked his hair and face as he closed his eyes again, leaning down to kiss his skin. Finally I took his hands.

"Come on, Charlie," I coaxed gently. "We need to sleep. Let's go." He wearily stood, and with a yawn we walked upstairs, parting for the night with a kiss at the top of the staircase.

Next Morning

I woke to the sound of the door quietly opening and the mattress sinking a bit. A large, gentle hand stroked my hair back, and I didn't open my eyes as I smiled faintly.

"What are you doing?" I asked groggily, my voice hardly audible.

"Waking you up," I heard Charles say with a smile. "Your mother and siblings aren't back yet. We got a letter saying they would be staying overnight."

"All right," I groaned. My eyes still hadn't opened, and I rolled over. I heard him chuckle, and felt his arm slide around me, his face buried in my hair. Finally I rolled back over and opened my eyes, finding Charles propped up on his elbow.

"Will you please get up?" he asked. "I'm so lonely downstairs." I smiled.

"All right. But get out of my room so I can get dressed." He smiled and kissed my forehead, then quietly walked from the room. I laid in bed for several more minutes, finally dragging myself up and into my closet for today's outfit.