Lamented Pasts, page 15
part #1 of Timeless Affection Series
Gabriel was pure sunshine. His personality was so light and bright that you couldn't help but feel happier in his presence. He was a balm for my aching soul, and the final nail in my coffin all at the same time.
I wipe my brow, sweat beading on my forehead as I stand on the wooden ladder to finish stocking the shelves. There weren't a lot of opportunities for a woman to find work in Charleston, South Carolina in 1771, and I had been grateful when the Smiths had agreed to let me help around their general store and help tend their children in exchange for room and board. I had been in the area, and time period, for a few months already, and a part of me was already itching to get swept away again to somewhere else.
The ring of the bell startles me out of my musings and I begin to descend from the ladder to help the customer who has just walked in. The smooth soles of my shoes slip on one of the wooden rings, and I'm flung back as my legs go out from under me. I'm bracing for the fall, when I find myself cradled in someone's arms. Very gently cradled I might add despite the fact that I've just knocked the wind out of my unknown savior.
I look up embarrassed, blowing a lock of my hair out of my face as I do so. I immediately want to melt into a puddle of embarassment. It's Gabriel Williams, who despite his position as a blacksmith, is easily the most eligible bachelor in all of The Carolinas if the rumors are true. And the rumors definitely look to be true if it were based on looks alone. He has russet colored hair that holds a myriad of colors that all contribute to create the most beautiful color of hair that I have ever seen. His skin is tan, a tan that looks like it has been earned from long hours spent in the sun, and his eyes are a brilliant sapphire color.
I embarrassingly give a little sigh of joy at how pleasant he is to look at, and the huge grin he gives me that lights up his whole face means that my starry-eyed expression hasn't escaped his notice.
"The view's just as good from here," he says impishly, and I flush a dark red color.
I open my mouth to offer a retort but I'm cut off by Mrs. Smith who has just walked into the room.
"My heavens!" she cries. "Is everything all right?"
"Just saving this lovely lady's life," Gabriel says cheerfully, finally setting me down and giving a very gentlemanly bow to Mrs. Smith.
My legs feel shaky, like a newborn colt's, and I know that the feeling has more to do with the present company than anything actually being wrong with them.
I inwardly chuckle when I see that Mrs. Smith is blushing from the utter charisma that pours out of Gabriel in spades.
"Mr. Williams, for what purpose do we have the pleasure of your presence?" she simpers.
I give a little snort in amusement and she gives me the side eye before turning her attention back to Gabriel, who has a wide grin on his face.
"I need to know if you have anything that would turn a lady's head," he tells her.
My ears burn in embarrassment. What was I thinking that he would flirt with me? Why did I even want him to?
"What kind of lady are we talking about?" asks Mrs. Smith, her simpering slightly subdued with the news that he has a lady.
"I'm not quite sure," he says. "She's quite mysterious. I've tried to get her attention for weeks, and it's like she doesn't even see me. I've decided to now try and buy her affections since nothing else seems to be working."
There's a shaky feeling building up inside of me that I recognize as hope. Is he talking about me?
"Well I do hope that she comes to her senses," purrs Mrs. Smith. "How any woman could resist your charms is beyond me."
After a few more back and forths, Gabriel leaves the store. I have trouble concentrating for the rest of the day. I examine everything he said, looking for a hidden meaning and then cursing myself for even thinking that way. Only later when I'm tucked into bed do I realize that Gabriel left the store without buying anything.
A week passes with no more Gabriel sightings. There's an autumn festival tonight though, and preparation for that, along with the higher number of customers coming into the store, keeps me busy and most important of all, keeps my mind occupied. I avoid most social gatherings but every once in a while, when the loneliness inside of me threatens to choke me, I go to parties, or concerts, or whatever I can find just to feel like I'm a part of something.
I can hear the fiddle as I get closer to the field where the festival is being held. People walk excitedly in groups towards the party, talking and laughing back and forth.
A few people say hello as they meander by, but most people ignore me. The village hermit who goes out of her way to not form relationships of any kind is not the most popular person I've learned.
I try not to let it bother me, but unfortunately, I've always been a person who craved connections. Centuries by myself have somehow not cured me of the longing yet.
When I get to the field, I see that a large circle has formed and there's couples dancing in the center of it while the fiddle plays, and everyone claps along. I stand as close as I can without attracting too much notice, pretending that I'm part of the group. I find myself tapping my foot and clapping my hands along with the joyful song.
Movement to my left catches my attention and I see that Gabriel is asking one of the village widows to dance. Mrs. Hadley may have white liberally streaked throughout her hair, but even she can't resist Gabriel's eyes it seems. He's gracious and charming and only gently moves Mrs. Hadley's hands when they wander too close to his perfect arse.
I watch him for a few more dances. Despite the crowd of adoring eligible women who would bite off their arm for a chance at his attention, he concentrates on those who are overlooked. The widows, the children, those who have disabilities.
Studying him close, I try to see if he's just doing it to put on a show, to look even better for his admirers, but I can't see any evidence of it. He never looks at the gaggle of girls watching his every move. He gives his utmost attention to everyone he's with like they're the only person on the earth.
When I feel myself longing to be the person he's paying attention to, I walk away to one of the many booths that are selling treats and an assortment of other goodies.
I'm just about to bite into a candied apple when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I whirl around and am shocked to see Gabriel standing there, his hands in the pocket of his breeches.
"Hello Master Williams," I say politely, curtsying slightly.
The sun is setting, and the fading light casts a golden glow over his features, making his hair look more blond than red. His eyes dance, humor and kindness radiating from within them.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Juliet?" he asks, catching me off guard with his lack of formality.
I cock my head, examining him. I just watched him go out of his way to make every outlier in the community feel like the most special person in the world. Is this why he's talking to me? Because I'm the village freak?
"A few minutes with you isn't going to change my life," I tell him, not bothering to answer his question.
His eyes widen in response.
"Pardon me?" he asks, his face full of confusion.
"I'm not one of your charity cases," I respond rudely. "Dancing with me isn't going to change the fact that I'm the village pariah."
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. It appears that I've shocked him into silence.
I mockingly give him a curtsy, and then I turn and briskly walk away, wiping hot, frustrated tears from my eyes as I do so. What is wrong with me?
"Juliet, wait!" he calls from behind me. I hear him following me, and I speed up my walk until I'm almost jogging. The last thing I want is for him to see me cry.
"Stop," he says imploringly, right behind me. There's a barbed wire fence blocking my exit and I debate just trying to hop over it, consequences be damned. Deciding that getting my petticoats entangled in barbed wire would just cause me more trouble at the moment, I turn and look at him reluctantly.
He holds up his hands like he's approaching a wild animal, and I get the urge to snap my teeth at him in an effort to scare him away.
Sometimes I do feel that my humanity is hanging by a thread after everything that I've been through.
"The last thing I would ever think of you is that you're someone's charity case," he says softly, still holding his hands up. "And we need to clear something up right now if we're going to continue this relationship."
I open my mouth to object vehemently to his characterization of us, seeing as how we barely know each other, but I'm stopped when he places his finger lightly on my lips to quiet me.
"What we need to clear up is the idea that any of those lovely ladies are charity cases. Out of everyone in this place, they are the only ones who treat me like I'm more than a lowly blacksmith or a piece of meat. They are my friends, and it is beneath you to think of them in such a way."
A rush of shame breaks over me as I see the disappointment in his eyes. I'm not sure why I care, but for some reason I'm having a difficult time with the look that he's giving me.
Not trusting myself to speak, I nod in what I hope looks like a humble way.
He visibly brightens.
"Now that we have that over with, would you accompany me for a walk?" he asks me, making my head spin with his change in subject.
"Um, right now?" I ask dumbly.
"No better time," he tells me.
"I was just on my way home," I respond.
"Then I'll walk you there," he says, smiling widely at the fact that he's countered my grand excuse.
As I stare at him, it feels like something moves between us, almost as if I should reach out and try to grab the air surrounding our bodies-like perhaps my hand would come back holding something tangible, something comforting and delicate.
I rip my eyes away from his. Feeling resigned that he's not going to go away, and knowing that the idiot inside of me doesn't want him to go away, I gingerly link my arm through his.
As we walk, he points out random things. Things that I've never bothered to notice, like the color of a tin roof in the falling light, or the interesting shape of a cloud passing by in the sky.
I find myself examining Gabriel, trying to figure out what's different about him. He meanders through town, saying hello to people as we pass by. There's no tension in his step. He seems at peace with himself, and the world around him. It's kind of a beautiful thing to behold.
My soul, in contrast, is constantly raging, desperate to find its identity among the ruin of its past. Walking next to him, listening to him tell funny stories about the townspeople, I feel settled, grounded in the present for once.
I've never been attracted to someone like Gabriel before. He lacks the intensity that I've always looked for in the past.
But maybe it makes sense that I'm attracted to something different. After all, I'm not the same girl that I used to be.
I miss her though. I miss my old self. I miss the easy way she laughed, the easy way she loved. I wonder if Gabriel would have liked her better than the quiet, empty shell I had become.
"So, what do you think about tomorrow?" I hear Gabriel say, and I realize that I missed the whole last part of what he was telling me.
I smile sheepishly at him. "Sorry, what were you saying?" I ask.
"I was telling you I have something I want to show you tomorrow," he says, looking amused somehow at the fact that I wasn't paying attention to him.
I'm flustered standing there in front of the Smiths' walkway. It's been forever since a man asked me to do something, let alone a man who I was possibly interested in. And it would be good to get out of the house, just for a little while…
"Ok," I tell him shyly.
He flashes me a bright smile that feels so reassuring that it instantly settles my rolling stomach.
As I watch him stroll away, whistling some song that I've never heard, the strangest feeling of loss washes over me as he crosses the street and disappears from sight. I stand there for several minutes more, wondering what it is that makes him so different.
Gabriel Williams
I wake up in the middle of the night, sick to my stomach with grief from the nightmares that I never escape. I lean over the chamber pot in my room, tears swimming in my eyes. "Why?" I moan, full of self-pity, full of the pain and grief that I am forced to relive over and over again.
I half expected Gabriel not to show up today, not after the disastrous appearance I made yesterday. But before I've even had a chance to tell the Smiths where I'm going, he's at their door asking for me.
Mrs. Smith gives me an appraising stare as I say goodbye, I'm sure thinking that its improper for me to be spending the day with a man without a chaperone. She says nothing though, and I feel free as we step away from the house.
Gabriel appears relaxed as usual, a small, pleased smile lifting the corners of his mouth when he first sees me. He reaches out to take my hand as we walk, and I'm surprised at how effortless it feels.
"You look beautiful, Juliet," he tells me, and his smile is so breathtaking, for a minute I get lost in it, loving that it's meant for me.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask.
"It's a surprise," he says with a smirk, and I feel a moment of deja vu, my mind going to other surprises, and other smiles.
"Where did you go?" he asks, his head cocked as he studies me.
"Somewhere far away," I tell him sadly.
He squeezes my hand in response, and we continue to walk towards the outskirts of town, the mood a little more somber than before.
We get to a small, charming cottage after a while. It's simple in its structure, but somehow, I can tell that it's sturdy, meant to last the test of time. I gasp when I see that its front porch looks out over the ocean. It's immediately my new favorite place, and I'm jealous of whoever lives there. When I ask who it belongs to, Gabriel throws his head back and laughs. It's a full bellied laugh that fills me up with happiness at the sound of it.
"It's mine," he says. "People always think that I don't live in town because I can't afford it, but why would I live anywhere else when I can look out my porch and see this?" He gestures out to the view, and I wholeheartedly agree with him. I tell him so, and the perpetual smile on his face somehow widens.
"I somehow knew you were the kind of girl that appreciated the small things," he says, and I blush as if it's the nicest compliment that I've ever heard.
"Come on, this wasn't the surprise," he says, pulling my hand to follow him.
I was so distracted by the view of the sea that I missed the large building just beyond the cottage. He lets go of my hand to push one of the heavy, thick wooden doors to the side. I miss the comforting presence of his hand in mine as soon as he pulls away.
"It's over here," he says, and I take a hesitant step into the building that I realize is actually his forge where he does his blacksmith work. I absorb everything around me as I walk to where he's standing patiently.
When I look down to where he's pointing, a grin lights up my face. Nestled in a blanket is a sleeping dog with her four tiny, black puppies, rooting lazily at her belly. I squeal and scoop up one of the little, warm, soft bodies, and bring it to my chest, cradling its sleeping weight, and nuzzling my nose into the soft fur. The puppy whines and starts rooting at my cheek, its wet nose making me giggle. The sound is foreign to my ears, and I have to double check that it actually came from me.
"They're adorable," I tell him, and my stomach flutters when a blush appears on his cheeks.
"They were just born a few weeks ago. I thought you might like them," he says humbly.
"You were right," I answer, picking up another one of the balls of fur, and resisting the urge to squeeze it too hard in my enthusiasm.
I play with the puppies for an hour while Gabriel works on things around the forge.
We then walk to his cottage, where he has me sit down on a handmade rocking chair on the porch while he goes inside to make us some food for lunch.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" I call out to him, feeling strange that I'm outside relaxing.
"I'm good, just enjoy yourself," he yells back, and I do just that. Sitting in the chair, watching the waves crash on the beach, I feel a rare moment of peace.
He comes out with a loaf of bread, some jam, and a block of cheese.
We share the simple meal, and somehow it tastes better to me than any meal that I can remember.
After we eat, we clean up and then come back outside to sit in the chairs.
He clears his throat, and I look over to him expectantly.
He looks nervous for the first time since I've met him, and it makes me sit up straight in my chair on high alert.
"I didn't bring you out here just to see the puppies," he says, his voice shaking a little bit. "I have a proposition to make for you," he tells me.
"Okay," I answer, not having any clue what he's going to say.
"I would like you to agree to be my wife," he says, watching me closely for my reaction. When I open my mouth in shock, he hurriedly continues. "I know you don't love me yet, but in time maybe you could. I would do everything to make you happy. I'm not wealthy, but we would be comfortable. I feel a connection to you, that I haven't had with anyone else, and I'm tired of being alone. I think we could be good together," he says, staring at me intently.
My mouth drops open. Did he really just ask me to marry him? We don't even know each other. It's preposterous.
But just as I say that, I wonder if it really is so crazy. He doesn't love me, so when I inevitably disappear it wouldn't be terrible. I wouldn't have to live in town anymore where everyone dissected and gossiped about my every move. And I'm so lonely. So utterly and completely lonely.
