Letters from Strangers

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Ainaran	Letters from Strangers	Lead	[-]
Posts: 52 (05/09/07 21:12:34) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Tags : None Introduction: I got the first idea for this fic from Gerard's haircut in 'Dear Frankie', (of all things!) and from the scene in which Lizzie finds out just who The Stranger is. LETTERS FROM STRANGERS Chapter 1 Lizzie Morrison let herself into the shabby flat and shook the rain off her jacket before hanging it up. She hoped her mother had the kettle going; the light May rain had chilled her even in the short walk from Marie's chip shop. Instead, she found Nell sitting at the kitchen table in front of a cold cup of tea. She was staring into space and smoking like a chimney. Lizzie groaned inwardly. These were sure signs that her ma was upset about something. As she moved about the kitchen, getting the kettle going and heating up the stove for dinner, she asked bluntly, "Well? Whats wrong?" Nell took a long drag on her cigarette before answering. "You need to talk to Frankie. He came home from school with a black eye." Lizzie turned away from the stove to look at her in disbelief. Somewhat pleased at getting her daughters attention, Nell repeated, "Frankie came home from school with a black eye. He got into a fight with Ricky. I put a cold compress on it," she added helpfully. "Oh, well, thats just wonderful, ma," Lizzie snapped. "Since I need to talk to Frankie, you can finish getting dinner." Leaving her mother sitting at the table gaping at her, she marched to her son's room. Why on earth would Frankie have gotten into a fistfight with his best friend? Opening his door, she was greeted with the sight of what appeared to be a gigantic beige cocoon propped beside the bed. Frankie had pulled off the bedspread and curled up inside it. Fuming, Lizzie sat down next to him and pulled part of the dingy covering away from his head. He shrugged it back into place, but she pulled it away again, more firmly. Carefully she turned his face so she could see how bad it was. He had a shiner all right, and a fat lip as well. "What happened?" She looked at him sternly as she signed the question. "I got in a fight with Ricky," he replied, hands twitching nervously as he signed. Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I know that," she said, "Nana told me. Why did you get in a fight with Ricky?" "He keeps asking me and asking when my da is coming back." Frankie looked miserable and even in her anger, Lizzie sympathized with him. Two months ago, she had asked a complete stranger recommended by her boss to pretend to be Frankie's father for a day, hoping to convince her son that he had a loving Da who simply could not be with him all the time. Unexpectedly both she and her son had developed feelings for the nameless man, who left their lives as quickly as he had appeared. Marie had told Lizzie where she found him, but that was no help now that Lizzie had ended the charade. "I told Ricky to drop it, but he just wouldn't", Frankie continued. "And I got really, really mad at him." "So you had to get into a fistfight with him?" Frankie looked away with a shrug. A nasty suspicion entered Lizzie's mind. She grasped his shoulder to get his attention. "Who threw the first punch?" Frankie hesitated a long time before moving his hand to reply, "Me." Looking at his mother in anguish, he repeated, "Ricky's been asking me every day since he --," Frankie fumbled, searching for the best way to describe the Stranger, "-- the man -- left." "Why didn't you just tell him your Da died," Lizzie asked in frustration. It was the truth; Frankie's father, an abusive brute, had died within a week of the Stranger's visit. "Ricky would never believe that," Frankie gestured. "Besides, I don't care about my dead Da. I want my other Da -- my good Da -- to come back." Fearing he had said too much, Frankie turned his back on her, huddling down into the bedspread once more. He was too big to cry; he wouldn't. Lizzie sat back, stunned at his choice of words. Part of her last conversation with Davey replayed itself in her mind. "He's got another father now, a better father," she'd shouted at the man who had terrorized her for so many years. If he hadn't been on his deathbed, she doubted she'd have found the nerve to raise her voice to her husband. Even dying he'd threatened and hurled abuse on her. She had no doubt that if he had had the strength to get up, he would have attacked her physically, as he had so many times before. She recognized the irony that a total stranger proved a better father figure to Frankie than his biological father, but it was unnerving that her son had formed such a strong attachment to him in only two days. And it was dead scary that she found herself wondering about him on a daily basis. Silently, she put her arm around Frankie's cocoon and sat next to him for several moments. Finally her son's head and shoulders emerged again and he looked up at her. Her heart squeezed painfully when she saw his reddened eyes, but she sensed he did not want her sympathy. "Ma, please couldn't you send my letter to him? Please? He might write back." After a lifetime of writing to a fictitious father, Frankie had written a letter to the very real man who had stepped into the role of his father. His secret hope was that the man he thought of as his 'good Da' might someday want to see him again, but the boy knew his mother had kept the letter herself. "Frankie, we dont know that," she signed gently in reply. "I'm not sure if I could even get your letter to him." "But you found him!" Frankie's face mirrored his frustration. "Please just send my letter." "Sweetheart, I dont know anything about him. I dont know where he is now, or when he'd get your letter. I don't know if he'll write back. Maybe he can't for some reason, or is too busy." It had also crossed Lizzie's mind that he might be a married man with kids of his own. "You can't count on hearing from him again." "But you could try, couldn't you? Please just send the letter," Frankie persisted. In the face her son's unhappiness, Lizzie knew she was not going to win. Heavily, she signed, "I can't make any promises. But I'll see what I can do." Overjoyed, Frankie threw his arms around her in a bear hug. Lizzie was startled, and scared, at his reaction. The nameless man had shown a rare kindness to them for a weekend, but that did not mean he wanted any future contact with them. If that turned out to be the case, how would she ever console Frankie? How would she console herself, wondered a small voice in the back of her head. 'Shoosh,' she thought back at it hastily. Nell's voice calling from the kitchen broke this depressing train of thought. Lizzie signed, "Nana's got dinner ready. We're going make sure that face is cleaned up, then we'll eat." Much later, after the dishes were cleared and washed, and after Frankie and Nell had both gone to bed, Lizzie sat down at the old kitchen table with a single sheet of paper and a plain envelope. Carefully, she began to write. By the next afternoon, the rain was gone and the sun was drying the last puddles on the streets. Marie sat on the floor of the back room of her shop, getting ready to stock the shelves, when she heard Lizzie call a greeting from the front door of the shop. She glanced at her watch. It was a bit early for Lizzie's afternoon shift. Not that she was ever late -- like clockwork, that one, she'd said often enough to Ally, appreciating her assistant's dependability. "As long as you're crazy enough to come in early on a fine day like this," she now called cheerfully to Lizzie, "come on back and help me get these out before the rush starts." The small windowless room darkened further when her friend's tall, slim frame filled the doorway. Marie hefted a cardboard box filled with goods into her arms and indicated a second one on the floor with a jerk of her chin. "I'm glad you're here. Bring those out -- between the two of us we'll get the shelves stocked and have time for a cup of tea before things get busy." Within a few minutes, they stood behind the counter efficiently replacing goods and cleaning shelves as they went. By now the routine was second nature to them, and they chatted as they worked. It was a several minutes before Marie noticed that Lizzie seemed anxious about something. "Hey, what's up?" She stopped and looked closely at the other woman. Her friend wasn't one to voice her troubles, but Marie could usually coax her into confiding when something was bothering her. "Oh, nothing's wrong," Lizzie hastily began, then stopped uncomfortably. Marie waited, knowing there was more coming. She noticed the other woman fidgeting with something in her apron pocket. Finally, with an air of embarrassment, Lizzie took her hand out and extended it to Marie. She held two sealed letters, one addressed to Petty Officer Davey Morrison and the other blank. "Erm, I was wondering if youd mind -- if it wouldn't be too much trouble -- if you would send these to," Lizzies face was crimson by now, "-- your brother." She rushed on, still tripping over her tongue, "Frankie wrote him a letter after he left. To thank him. And so did I. We're not trying to offend -- or anything -- it's just that he was so grand to Frankie." Gathering that Lizzie would rapidly become even more incoherent, Marie intervened. She smiled warmly as she took the letters from Lizzies shaking hand. "Of course, it's no trouble," she said brightly. She waved aside her friend's profuse thanks and apologies. "Don't be silly! Denny really is a sailor -- he'll be glad to hear from somebody besides me and our mother for a change. Here, you watch the register while I take the boxes back and put these," she held up the letters, "where I won't forget them." Lizzie gratefully turned to the register as Marie headed through the bead-covered doorway to the back of the shop. She'd dreaded this conversation all day. It was quite possible that Marie would not want a dirt poor single mum to have anything further to do with her brother. It did not help that Lizzie felt unsure of her own reasons for contacting the stranger. Her nervousness had made her stammer like a daft kid. 'Thank goodness Marie didn't seem in the least put out,' she reflected. She had not dared to make friends since takingFrankie away from Davey. She did not want to lose the first one she had made in six years because of a man whose name she did not know. Except now she did know. Marie had called him "Denny". As her first customer came in, Lizzie wondered what it was a nickname for. Had she seen Marie at that moment, her nervousness would have returned. The older woman maintained her air of relaxed good nature as she slipped quietly out the shop's back door. Carefully shutting it behind her, she hugged the letters to her chest and gleefully burst out, "Yes! YesyesyesyesYES!!" Once she had gotten to know the shy woman who had appeared in her store to buy cigarettes so many months ago, she had been dying to get her brother to meet her. Lizzie's quiet devotion to her mother and son might convince him that not all women were heartless bitches. And she knew he'd be wonderful to Lizzie and Frankie both. Unfortunately, over the last few years her brother had developed an aversion to Marie's attempts to set him up with someone and would not come within ten feet of any woman she suggested he date. Lizzie's dilemma two months ago had been ideal for her purposes. She had hoped her brother and her friend would hit it off well enough to stay in touch and it had been a sore disappointment when that had not happened. Ally, for once unsympathetic, told her she'd just have to let nature take its own course, and much as she didn't like to hear it, he was right. She had resisted her many urges to take matters into her own hands, but it had about killed her. But Lizzie had taken action at last! One of the neighboring business owners, taking a load out to his dustbin, gaped at Marie doing a silent victory dance in the May sunshine. Seeing the amazed look on his face, she smiled sweetly and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Baird. Lovely day, isn't it?" Still smiling, she went back inside. Those letters were going out tonight. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/01/08 00:08:37. Edited 3 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#1	[-]
Posts: 52 (05/25/07 00:37:51) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 2 A few weeks later and a thousand miles away, Lieutenant-Commander Denis Cochran was relieved of his watch. It had been an uneventful day despite being in a 'hot spot', so he strolled along the deck of the minesweeper, enjoying the rare sense of calm. He even stopped to watch a flock of seabirds off the port side, leaning over the rail. For a moment the fancy struck him that they skimmed the surface like skipping stones, but he shook his dark-haired head as if wanting to clear the thought out. He checked his watch. The galley would be serving by now, and mail had been delivered earlier that day. He would stop on his way to the wardroom and see if he had anything waiting. He was pleased when the warrant officer in charge of mail distribution handed him a small bundle. Returning the man's salute, he headed to the tiny room allocated for the officers' mess, anticipating a pleasurable hour or so reading news from home. Much as he enjoyed life in the Royal Navy, long tours made everyone homesick and letters from home were a lifeline even in the age of the internet. Seeing familiar handwriting, holding something a loved one had touched were somehow more meaningful than electronic communication. There was also the fact that with military communcations being monitored, letters were often more private than emails. Reaching the wardroom, he entered, exchanging greetings with the other two officers present so far. After the steward brought his meal, he sorted through his mail while he ate. There was a postcard from one of their mates on leave in Spain, showing a crowded beach. That one was passed around so that the others could assess the quantity and quality of exposed female flesh, although there were no comments spoken out loud. Sex, along with politics and religion, was traditionally frowned on as being an unsuitable topic of conversation in the wardroom. A couple of other letters carrying the Royal Navy insignia on their envelopes he mentally dismissed as junk, although he did open and read them. There was also a letter from his mother and an unusually large envelope from Marie. Those two he left sealed until later that afternoon, when he was done for the day and could be alone in his quarters. Settling his pillow up for support, he stretched out on his bunk to read. As usual, his eyes fell on the wallet-sized photo taped to the bulkhead beside him. It showed a toddler with wavy black hair and green eyes smiling up at the camera. He touched it gently, as usual, with a bleak look in his own green eyes. Turning his head to the compact desk on the opposite bulkhead, the pain in his heart eased somewhat. Tucked into a corner was a rather clumsily carved bright green sea horse. It was a gift from his last leave and had held pride of place on the desk ever since. He opened Mother's letter first. As he expected, it held no surprises or news of major import, although he was glad to hear from her. He smiled ruefully at her complaint, familiar from repetition, that he didn't write to her often enough. The smile turned to a grimace when she asked his opinion of Marie's new man. Mother was convinced his sister was again wasting her affections on someone who wasn't good enough for her, and what did Denny think about it? In fact, he liked what he'd seen of Marie's latest. Ally didn't expect Marie to wait on him hand and foot and he had a steady job. More important to Denny, Ally's eyes rested on his sister with obvious adoration. Denny set the letter aside, supposing that he really should send his mother a few lines to get her off Marie's back for a bit. He reached for the bulky envelope from his sister and opened it. To his surprise two more envelopes were inside along with a single sheet in her handwriting. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw that one of the envelopes was addressed in a childish hand to 'Davey Morrison'. "Noo," he said out loud, half amazed, half amused. But there was only one person he knew who would send a letter with that name on it. He wondered how it had come to him. Perhaps Marie had explained in her note. Picking it up, he began to read. Hello, little brother! I'm thinking you'll be shocked to get another letter from me so soon. So this puts me ahead by -- what? -- three letters to none by now? But I'm sure you've sent one its way to me, especially since I won't stop asking what you think of Ally. More important, what you written Mother about Ally?? I know she told you to check up on me, again. I hope you remember how to write soon, because there are a couple more people who've written you. It seems wee Frankie Morrison wrote a letter to you after you left -- and Lizzie tells me it is to you, not his Da. No idea how he twigged on to you, but I guess we shouldn't be surprised. He really is one smart cookie. Anyway, Lizze tells me he's dead set on getting his letter to you, so she asked me to send it on. The other letter is from her. You know, you did a wonderful thing for them, Denny. I know you didn't want to and that you thought it was a horrible thing to be part of a lie to a child. And you were pretty clear that you didn't think much of a mother who'd do something like that to her own son. I also know it was hard for you personally to pretend to be another boy's father, so I really am grateful to you. Although at the dance you looked pretty taken with Frankie. It was nice of you to dance with Lizzie, too. They've become good friends of mine and I appreciate you spending your last couple days of leave with them -- more than I can say. Right, don't get any closer to the mines than you have to. Come home safe -- you know I miss you & pray for you every day. Love always, Marie P.S. Ally says hello. He liked you!! Slowly setting Marie's letter with Mother's, Denny opened up the one from Frankie. A photo fell out from the rectangle of lined notebook paper onto his stomach. Gently picking it up and turning it over, he saw his own face. It was the picture they'd taken in front of the Accra. He stared at it for a long moment, seeing his features, carefully schooled for the part he'd been playing, next to Frankie's cheery face. A smile played about his own mouth as he started to read. "Thank you for the book..." Phrases jumped out at him as he continued. Ma and I had a bit of a shock last week. My Da -- my real Da -- died... Denny lay back, still holding the boy's letter. Frankie spoke of the incident so casually. How long had he known? Shaking his head at Frankie's sharp wits, he read on. ...I hope you'll come and see us next time your ship docks... Your friend, Frankie He read it through a second time, frowning. The date at the top showed it had been written in March, scarely two weeks after he'd returned to his ship. He wondered why it hadn't been mailed sooner. Maybe Lizzie had wanted to Frankie to forget about him. His heart squeezed at the thought, although he couldn't blame her. He could guess how hard it had been for her to watch a total stranger gain her son's affections so easily. Despite the tender kiss good-bye they'd shared, she might still regard him as an interloper. He hoped not. Sometimes that kiss drifted across his mind at night when he was on the edge of sleep, and he'd had dreams about dancing with her again. He finally picked the last, unmarked envelope. This one had to be Lizzie's, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out what she had to say. After a long moment, he opened the envelope and took out the folded sheet. I hope you don't mind me asking Marie to send Frankie's letter. I was cancelling the postal box because I finally told him about his real Daddy -- not everything, not how he hurt us, but as much truth as Frankie can take right now. Anyway, this letter was in the box. I opened it because I thought it was just like all the others, but as you'll see, it's written to you. Frankie asked me if I could get it to you, and I asked Marie. I also want to tell you that I can't thank you enough for everything you did for Frankie and me that weekend. It must have been terribly awkward for you and I never expected you to go to so much trouble for people you didn't even know. Since you're Marie's brother, all I can say is kindness must run in your family. (Sorry -- I broke down and asked Marie one day and she told me who you are. I hope you're not angry.) I know Frankie asked if you would come see us again sometime. I did explain that you might not be able to do that, for your own reasons. So please don't feel obligated. I do hope we will meet again, but whether we do or not, please know that Frankie and I will never, ever forget you. Lizzie Morrison Denny lay back against his pillow for a long time, holding her letter over his chest as he stared blankly at the bulkhead. He wasn't sure he wanted another emotional entanglement, and he knew he'd already developed some feelings for Lizzie, tenuous though they were. Memories of vulnerable brown eyes and a sweet kiss swam through his brain, but he pushed them aside. It would be disatrous for him to get involved with a woman who tugged at his heartstrings the way Lizzie Morrison did. Eventually he scooped up all the letters and got off the bed. He stretched his tall, muscular body and moved to the desk. Seating himself, he placed Frankie's photo next to the sea horse the boy had given him when they'd said good-bye. He really did owe letters to his mother and sister. Maybe he would send a postcard to Frankie next time he had shore leave. Denny pulled out a piece of stationnery printed with the Royal Navy seal. Hesitating a long while, he finally picked up his pen. Dear Frankie, he began to write. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/02/08 00:40:47. Edited 2 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#2	[-]
Posts: 52 (06/07/07 01:39:18) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 3 Frankie tore into Marie's shop one afternoon in early June, triumphantly waving something small and white. When his mother looked up, startled, from the customer she was waiting on, he grinned and signed with huge gestures, "He wrote! He wrote me back!" Heedless of the man waiting for his order of fish and chips, the excited boy nearly danced over to show her the envelope. Lizzie in turn smiled sheepishly at the confused-looking customer and apologized before taking the unopened letter that Frankie thrust out to her. Her blasted heart insisted on fluttering a bit at the sight of the unfamiliar masculine handwriting. "Lt. Cdr. Denis Cochran," she read blankly. Good Lord, Marie could have warned her that he was a naval officer. Her next thought, unbidden, was that she finally had a name to go with that kiss. Even the thought made her flush with embarrassment at her susceptibility, although she tried to maintain her composure. Handing the envelope back to her beaming son, she signed, "Here, take it home and read it and let me get back to work. You can tell me about it when I'm done here, right?" She watched Frankie, still clutching the letter like a trophy, race back out of the shop as noisily as he'd arrived. Forcing her attention back to the waiting customer, she smiled brightly. "I'll have your order right up." Frankie's feet were light as he took the stairs to their flat two a time. He had started to think that Ma might be right, and the man who'd been his Da for a weekend wouldn't write back after all. That had been hard, all right, especially after his assurance when saying good-bye to Frankie: "We're all connected." Pausing for a moment outside their door, he read the envelope once again. He wondered what a 'Lt. Cdr.' was, and hoped it was something that would make Ricky Munroe sit up and take notice. Opening the door, he slipped inside the small flat, intent on going straight to his room, only to be pounced on by his gran. "And just where did you go haring off to?" She spoke the words without signing, glaring at him. "You scared me half to death!" "I got a letter," Frankie signed to her. "I wanted to show Ma." Nell's suspicious mind went into overdrive. Lizzie had assured her that the nonsense with the letters was finished. Surely she hadn't started up again! Worse, what if someone from Davey's family was trying to get in touch with the boy? Frowning, she signed, "Who sent you a letter?" Skillfully twitching the missive out her grandson's fingers, she read it, the frown deepening to a scowl on her wrinkled face. "Who the hell is Denis Cochran?" She didn't realize she's spoken the words aloud until Frankie's hands moved in an answer. "He's my Da -- my pretend Da," he corrected himself. "I wrote him and he wrote back," he continued happily. Taking the letter from Nell's suddenly feeble grasp, he escaped to his room before she could stop him. Behind him, she stood rooted to the spot in shock. "Bloody hell," she finally muttered as she made her way to the cigarettes and the tea kettle. This might even call for a shot of whiskey. Safe in his room, Frankie sat on his bed, holding the letter like it was a talisman. Now that he had a chance to sit and read it, the idea of ripping open the envelope and diving in seemed wrong. After a few moments' thought, he went to the beat-up bookshelf and pulled out the book on marine animals given to him by his 'Da'. Returning to the bed, he tucked the book by his side and made himself comfortable. Only then did he carefully open the envelope and take out the enclosed sheets of paper. Dear Frankie, I was surprised to get your letter today, but in a good way. I'm very glad you wrote to me. I had a grand time with you and your mum and it's good to hear how you're going on. I guess I'd better tell you something about myself, since you know I'm not your real Da. I'm a Lieutenant-Commander in the Royal Navy. My ship is a minesweeper called the HMS Hull. At the moment, we're out at sea, which means your letter took a while to get to me. And it may be a bit before this letter gets to you. I hope you can write me again, but ask your mum first if it's okay. Thank you for sending the picture of the two of us. It's taped above my desk, so I can see it wherever I am in my cabin. I put the seahorse in my desk so I can see it whenever the desk is open. If I put it on my desk, it might fall of and get damaged. Minesweepers are smaller that most ships (but still big enough to keep the sharks away) so they pitch a lot even in seas that aren't very heavy. Everything that possibly can be is bolted to the decks or the bulkheads. On a ship, walls are called bulkheads, if you didn't know. Congratulations on making the football team. Even if it is the reserves, practice hard and play your best. That way, you'll always walk off the field a champion, win or lose. Did your friend Ricky make the team too? My ship won't be back at base for quite a while, but I would really like to see you next time I visit Marie. (Did you know she's my big sister? And boy is she bossy.) It has to be okay with your mother, right? I know you may be angry with her, and maybe with me, for making up a Da for you to dream about. But she truly loves you, Frankie, and wants for you to be safe and happy. I think of both of you often and hope you're doing well. Your friend, Denny Cochran Back at the chip shop, Marie came out to the front of the store right after Frankie ran out. "What on earth was all that stamping about," she asked Lizzie quizzically as she broke rolls of coins into the till. "It was Frankie," Lizzie replied over her shoulder as she carried the order to her customer's table. "I guess your brother wrote him back." "Did he now?" Marie's eyebrows raised. "I hope he remembers to drop a line to his own family now and then." Seeing that her words had distressed Lizzie, she reassured her. "Keep your hair on, I'm not mad at you, just that daft brother of mine." Taking out a large bottle of vegetable oil, she added some to the fryer. If Denny was was writing Frankie, that was a small step in the right direction. She starting singing a popular love song. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/02/08 08:10:28. Edited 1 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#3	[-]
Posts: 52 (07/23/07 16:01:59) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 4 Aboard the HMS Hull, the crew spent the summer alternating between complete boredom and nerve-wracking danger. The adjustment from the ship's previous assignments of patrolling the British coast challenged everyone to some degree. Combat and anti-terrorism training was part of their yearly schedule, but reality was not the same. For one thing, when an exercise ended, everyone returned to normal duties. Now they were deployed until year's end. Denny, like most of the men, found the stretches of inactivity more frustrating than the actual anti-device patrols. Usually optimistic, he seldom worried about the dangers involved in their mission. In his mind, as long as he and his command were drilled in the procedures needed to do their job correctly, nothing should go wrong. One morning, however, he fidgeted restlessly as he sat in the nearly empty ward room. With an unread magazine in front of him, he stirred a third packet of sugar into his otherwise untouched mug of tea and moodily scowled into space. "Erm, are you all right, sir?" The hesitant question came from a young lieutenant sitting across the room. His name was Felton and he had been assigned to the Hull for not quite year. Denny rolled his eyes ruefully. "Review," he replied succinctly. Felton understood at once. All naval personnel were periodically assessed by their commanding officers for their fulfillment of duties, overall demeanor and leadership ability. These reviews often indicated if a commander would recommend promotion or not. He knew that Cochran was ambitious. While it was not unusual to stay at rank for a few years, he heard that the lieutenant-commander wanted his next promotion. He also knew that on a few occasions, the other man had had some disagreements with the Captain. On occasion a commanding officer would block promotion for a subordinate. He wasn't surprised when Cochran stood up and asked, "Hey, do I look all right?" It was not vanity. The captain insisted that his officers in particular maintain a professional appearance to the best of their ability in a combat zone, and did not hesitate to take them to task. Accordingly, Felton looked him over for signs of disorder and found none. "You're good," he pronounced. "Not a ribbon out of place." With a cheeky grin he added, "Absolutely GQ." "I don't think that's quite what the Old Man is looking for," Denny replied wryly. He checked his watch. "Right, I've got ten minutes." Picking up his visored hat, he put it on as he left the ward room. "Good luck, sir." Felton's voice followed him out onto the deck. Denny wasn't expecting any serious problems today, but he appreciated the thought. Ten minutes later he had been admitted to the captain's miniscule ready room. He greeted his commanding officer with a confident salute. "Good morning, Captain," he said. Courteously rising from his seat, the captain returned the salute. "Good morning, Lieutenant-Commander," he replied in a cut-glass accent polished by years at British boarding schools. Slightly easing the formality of this meeting, he indicated a chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit down." Despite the sobriquet of Old Man, Captain George Gage looked younger than his 58 years. With only a hint of silver in his fair hair and the tanned, trim appearance of a man in his prime, only his piercing grey eyes betrayed his years of experience. They usually looked out on the world with an expression of intelligent appraisal. Seating himself, Denny found that exact look focused on him. He met the captain's glance steadily, with a certain amount of appraisal in his own green eyes. The moment passed. He saw that the captain his personnel file out on the desk between them. Opening it, Captain Gage permitted himself a small smile. "I've been quite pleased with your performance over the last year," he began. Indeed, the first part of the interview went very well. Denny's leadership skills and ability to remain levelheaded in stressful situations stood out in their current deployment, and when permitted to read his file, he was gratified to see that the captain had given him the highest possible rating. "Do you have any questions, Cochran," his captain asked, taking the file back from Denny. "No questions, sir, but Id like to discuss the possibility of promotion," he replied steadily. In a careful tone of voice, Gage said, "I expected you would." Denny's brows drew togehter slightly; this did not sound promising. Regarding the requirements for advancement to Commander, the captain continued calmly, "I would like to discuss a few things not in your service record." This definitely was not good; Denny tried not to let his dismay show in his face. "Is there a problem I'm not aware of, captain?" Although he tried not to let his temper rise, there was a trace of anger in the question. "Possibly," Gage replied seriously. "While there is nothing in your performance records which prevents me from putting your name in for the next promotion board, the likelihood is that you will be passed over." Seeing the stunned expression on his subordinate's face, his tone softened slightly. "Despite our past differences, I have great respect for you as an officer. If you insist, I will put your name in for the next board and will support you to the best of my ability, but that will probably not be enough to get you promoted at this time." Denny remained still and did not speak for a few moments. He recognized that the captain was being honest with him, so it would not do to give way to his own disappointment and frustration. He took a deep breath. "Could we discuss why I would not be promoted at this time, sir?" The other man's sharp grey eyes glanced at him in approval before he leafed through some of the older reports in Denny's file. Finding what he was looking for, Gage sat back in his chair and returned his gaze to Denny himself. "After attending officer candidate school, you specifically requested a post in Mine Countermeasure because it would increase the possibility of being stationed near your family in Glasgow," he stated. "At the time, you were married, and your wife was from Glasgow, also, wasn't she?" "Yes, sir." Denny's lips thinned unconsciously. His ex-wife was not a subject he cared to discuss, but he couldn't very well tell his CO to stubble it. His marital history was part of his file, and that made it fair game for discussion. "Since then, you've been based with MCM, even though an officer wanting promotion is advised to take a variety of posts." Despite Gage's continued mildness, his hackles were raised and he ground out, "I am aware of that advice, sir. But I have been promoted regularly despite it." "Careful, Lieutenant-Commander," the captain warned. "I'm trying to resolve an issue, not get into an argument." He paused for a moment, searching for words. Finally he asked, surprisingly gently, "Please forgive me for bringing up a painful subject. But are you attempting to stay near Glasgow because of the custody battle between you and your ex-wife?" It was a good thing he had just reminded Denny not to lose his temper. If the Lieutenant-Commander had been having this conversation in any other context, he would have told the other man to mind his own business, superior officer or not. His eyes blazed with anger and other emotions as he struggled to formulate a calm reply. After a few minutes he answered, "That's correct, sir. My ex-wife was able to get sole custody because of the time I spend at sea, and there have been difficulties when I've tried to see my son when I'm on leave." Difficulties, hell. She'd made a point of trying to keep the boy away from him as much as possible whenever the Hull was in port. "Now she's remarried, and wants me to give up what rights I've got so her husband can adopt the boy. She insists that Im gone so much he doesnt even recognize me anyway," he added bitterly. "I am so sorry, Cochran," his captain said quietly and sincerely. "This must be terribly painful to discuss, and I assure you it will not leave my office. However, having confirmed that your, erm, family situation is influencing your career choices, it still would be preferable for you to wait until your personal issues have been resolved before you put in for a promotion." Denny spread his hands and shrugged hopelessly. "I don't know what's going to happen. She married over a year ago and started pestering me to terminate my parental rights even before that. If I wait till all the hearings are over to apply for promotion, I'll probably be retirement age." After a pause, he said, "I'd still like to request promotion before the next board, sir. Without a change in duty station." The captain sighed. He should have expected as much from this particular officer. "Very well. I'll get the paperwork started, but Id like to delay submitting it for a few weeks. The deadline is well over a month from now, and I urge you to consider your chances for promotion carefully." Denny had to agree to this. He didnt want to, but a suggestion from one's commanding officer was merely a politely worded order and he was obliged to obey unless he could present a solid reason not to do so. He spent the rest of that long day in a sour mood. His last watch ended at six o'clock in the evening, but he had no desire to answer the inevitable questions from his brother officers about his review. Grabbing a sandwich and a drink from a friendly cook in the galley, he slipped into his cabin and shut the hatch behind him. Setting the small meal down on his desktop, he stripped off his uniform. Today, it felt more like a straightjacket. Clad only in his shorts, he sat and ate the small meal, then stretched his six-foot two frame out on the bunk and turned on the reading light above him. Looking up, he gazed morosely at the small photo that was all he had of his son. Alex was five now, due to start school at summer's end. Denny closed his eyes and leaned back against the bulkhead, fighting tears. He'd already missed half of his birthdays and Christmases, although he never failed to send a card and gifts. Now he would miss his son's first day of school. Nothing could be done about that; he'd have been deployed whether he was still married or not. But it hurt that Jean was doing her best to obstruct all communication between him and his boy. An unexpected image of Lizzie Morrison flashed into Denny's mind. Even while hiding herself and Frankie from her abusive husband, she had tried her best to see that her son had the idea that his father loved him. He wondered what shed think of his predicament, not that he wanted to tell her, of course. But she thought well enough of him to let him exchange letters with Frankie. That was a wee bit of comfort. It occurred to him that hed never acknowledged to Lizzie how much he appreciated her sacrifice in letting Frankie write directly to him. Maybe it would help him to stop dwelling on his own troubles to writer her a short note. Swinging his long legs over the side of his bunk, he stood and moved to his desk. Opening it, he ran a finger over the seahorse and picked up a sheet of paper. Dear Lizzie, I never thanked you properly for letting Frankie write to me. I'm guessing that wasn't an easy decision for you, and I appreciate it. He's a grand lad & I'm glad to hear from him any time. I hope things are better for you and Frankie now that his dad is gone. Frankie sounds okay when he writes, but is he really? I do know from his letters to me that he trusts you. You've done so well raising him alone. But if he does get a problem you think I can help with, please let me know. Marie might have told you that our dad left us when we were kids, so I have an idea what its like to be in his shoes. Sincerely, Denny Cochran It wasn't even a full page long and it did not commit him to anything specific. Reading over it, though, Denny thought it was missing something. It seemed more impersonal than he wanted. Smiling for the first time all day, he added a postscript. P.S. Tell Frankie I'll write to him again soon and tell your mother I said hello. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/04/08 23:05:09. Edited 3 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#4	[-]
Posts: 52 (08/16/07 02:26:36) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 5 Frankie looked up from his comfortable position on Nana's sofa. He held the book Denny had given him, for once not reading it. Instead, he used it as a solid surface while writing a letter to his friend. He thought about the differences it made now that the letters were going to somebody real instead of to Ma. That in itself was a good difference. But Denny didn't answer letters nearly as often as Ma did. He knew that Denny didn't have near as much free time as Ma did. In an earlier letter, his new friend said that being on duty sixty hours was a light week. The letters Denny did send were filled with all sorts of interesting things like that. That was another good difference. Then there was the fact that Ricky Monroe was really impressed that he, Frankie, was on first-name basis with a Royal Navy officer. That might be the best difference of all. He looked over to Ma and Nana. Nana dried the dishes that Ma washed. As usual, she was smoking. The remains of their lunch had been put away but the odor of reheated fish and vegetables still lingered, mixed with tobacco smoke. Ma had opened the window over the kitchen sink but it didn't seem to help. Cocking his head, he tried to see what they were saying but that was impossible. Only their profiles were visible, silhouetted against the sunlight coming through the window. He did see that they were gesturing angrily as they spoke to one another. Frankie watched them for a moment, then hunched over his paper to write some more. Guess what, Denny? Ma and Nana are fighting again. I bet its about money, which is funny because Ma says we have a bit more now than we used to. That's just the problem. Nana says we can move into a nicer flat now, but Ma won't do it. She says there are other things we can use the extra for. Nana says Ma is afraid to spend the money, but I don't think thats it at all. She gets a stubborn look on her face when she talks about spending it, like she knows what she wants to do. But she won't tell Nana or me. Nana says Ma's going daft. Ma says with Nana's nagging that's no surprise. She says we'll have to use some of the extra on clothes for me. I've grown three inches this summer and my trousers are all too short... Unaware of Frankie's scrutiny, Lizzie and Nell continued the argument that they had been having, off and on, most of the summer. "It's not like we won the lottery," Lizzie was saying in exasperation. "There's just a bit of extra brass, thats all. If we put it into a higher rent, we won't have it for other things." She glared at her mother, hands on her hips. "What other things?" Nell scowled; their disagreements on this subject seemed neverending. She took a long, frustrated drag on her cigarette, though, exhaling with a loud 'whoosh'. "Frankie can live in a decent place for once, by a good school, and you could find someplace to work better than a chip shop." "That's a terrible thing to say!" Lizzie's eyes snapped. "After everything Marie's done for us? Ma, she's been the best friend we've had since Frankie and I left Davey. You've no business complaining about the job she gave me. And you're the one who wanted me to take it!" Nell calmed down. "I didn't say we'd never see her again. But there's better jobs out there. Maybe you could find a nice job in a market, or in a department store." She stopped at her daughter's icy expression. "I know there are other jobs out there," Lizzie said quietly. "A lot of other jobs. And, yes, I'd like to --". Now it was her turn to stop short. She'd almost said more that she meant to. Nell pounced. "What things," she repeated. "What are you thinking of doing now, girl?" She looked at her daughter through narrowed eyes, positive she was hiding something. Lizzie shut her mouth tight and returned her attention to putting away the last few dishes. Nell made another attempt to get something out of her. "Yeah, Marie's been a wonderful friend, all right," she said sarcastically as she picked up her newspaper and sat down at the kitchen table. "Thanks to her, Frankie's writing who-knows-what to that Lieutenant Cochran." Her daughter rose to the bait, but not quite how Nell expected. Turning away from the sink to face her, she said, "No, Ma. I got Frankie writing to Marie's brother." Even after their good-bye kiss, or because of it, Lizzie still could not bring herself to speak the man's name aloud. "And he's a Lieutenant-Commander." Her voice softened, taking on a pleading note. "Come on, you've seen how much those letters mean to Frankie. I think its a relief for him, knowing he can confide in somebody other than us." Nell remained unmoved. "It's unnatural for him to keep secrets from his ma," she announced. Lizzie threw up her hands. "For pity's sake, when I was reading all Frankie's letters you told me I wasn't giving him his privacy. Now that I'm not reading them you want me to know everything he thinks. Pick one!" From the corner of her eye, she saw her son observing them, his mouth quirked into something strongly resembling a repressed grin. He'd finished his letter and sealed it into an envelope. Quickly he bent over and started scribbling the address, clearly hoping he had not been caught. She went over to him and tousled his brown hair. "You mind your own business, young man," she signed good-naturedly. He looked up at her gave her a smile for real. His grandmother was still in a huff. "I'm going out for some fags," she announced, tossing the paper on the table. "I probably won't be back till youve left for work." "Good," Lizzie replied cheerfully, "you can pick these up, too." She handed her mother a marketing list she'd written out that morning. "And you can take Frankie to the library and pick him up on your way home." Ignoring Nell's outraged glare, she tapped the boy on the shoulder. "Nana's going to take you to the library," she told him. Eagerly he jumped up and hugged Nell. In the face of his enthusiasm, she was forced to admit defeat. "I'm only doing this for him," she said dramatically, scowling at her daughter over his head. "Have a nice walk, Ma." Lizzie blithely ignored her mother's annoyance and waved them out the door. Still smiling, she turned back to their flat. She was often in a good mood these days. Her husband's death had released them all from living like fugitives. For the first time in years, she could plan more than two or three months ahead. She did not have to put money aside for yet another deposit on yet another flat. Frankie could go to the same school for two terms in a row. She had the luxury of choices now, real choices that were not based on hiding from Davey. Humming, she straightened up their few tiny rooms, enjoying the rare time alone. When she checked the time, she realized there was still a half-hour before she had to leave for work, enough time to get the mail and have a cup of tea. She put the kettle on while she went down to the letterboxes in the foyer of their building. Since she no longer pretended that Frankie was getting letters from his Da, she did not have to spend money on an extra postal box every month, or on foreign stamps. And she had more time, too, not having to pick up the letters and answer them. There were three envelopes in the old brass box, but Lizzie didn't bother to look at them until she was settled at her kitchen table with a mug of sweetened tea. One was a bill, their most common form of correspondence. She set it aside to pay later. The second missive was one she expected. Taking a deep breath, she tore it open and read the enclosed pages. And read them again before stuffing them back into their envelope. She hurried into her bedroom to tuck it into her purse. She finished her tea before she reached across to turn over the last letter from where it lay face down on the wooden table. She had recognized the handwriting immediately, of course, but hadn't bothered to read the address, assuming it was for Frankie. Lizzie looked down and froze. It was addressed to her. Looking around almost guiltily, she settled back into the old kitchen chair. Her hands felt the slightest bit shaky as she carefully opened the thin envelope. She had no idea why he would write to her after all these months. Lizzie had told herself she hadn't really expected him to answer the letter she sent with Frankie's first one, and ignored her feelings of disappointment when no reply was forthcoming. She took out the single sheet, unfolded it and read its contents. And put it down on the scratched wooden surface in front of her, perplexed. One page, two paragraphs, and signed 'Sincerely'? "What the hell is this supposed to mean?" She spoke the words aloud, looking around the small kitchen as if expecting an answer out of thin air. It was hardly personal at all, except for the postscript. Lizzie smiled as she pictured her Ma's reaction to even the simplest of greetings from Lieutenant-Commander Cochran. At the thought of Nell, she stood up abruptly. Ma would never let her hear the end of it if she knew about this. She replaced the sheet of paper in its envelope and looked around the room. Her eyes lit on the cupboard containing their small store of linens. Going over and opening it, Lizzie buried the letter in the folds of the plain tablecloth brought out only for guests. She had no intention of discussing any of this with anyone: not Ma, not Frankie and certainly not Marie. She would deal with it later. Meanwhile, she saw it was past time to get to work. Grabbing her jumper and purse from her room, she rushed out of the flat and down the stairs. Marie looked over from her place behind the counter as Lizzie scurried into the shop. "Five minutes late! I was just telling Ally here to send out a search party for you," she laughed. Her lover, getting ready to leave after bringing Marie to work, winked. "I told her I was too tired -- I'd just call the coppers," he said. Having finally reached the point where she could consider them friends, Lizzie smiled back at their teasing. "I'm sorry to be late," she apologized, "but I got a wee bit distracted. Look what came today." Triumphantly, she pulled the thick envelope from her purse and handed it to Marie. She watched the other woman pull out the sheets and start reading. As soon as she finished the first page, Marie slipped from behind the counter and hugged Lizzie. "I told you you'd get in," she exclaimed in delight. She handed the page to Ally. " 'Davidson College is pleased to welcome you to its Business and Management School,' " he read aloud, and looked over at them. "That's grand, Lizzie!" A broad smile crossed his scruffy face and reached his dark brown eyes. She shrugged, torn between pleasure and embarrassment. "It's a pretty fancy way to say 'We'll let you take an evening course.' ", she said. "But look here," she pointed to the second page. "They gave me a Hardship Grant for some of the tuition." "That's wonderful," exclaimed Marie. "It calls for a celebration! Let's all have a drink after we close tonight." Lizzie protested, "For pity's sake, I'm taking one wee course for twenty weeks, and I'm only able to do that with a grant. I don't think I can afford tap water, much less anything else!" "Shoosh! It's my treat," the other woman insisted. "We'll just have one round, thats all." "Ma and Frankie will worry if I'm too late getting home." It was a half-hearted objection and Marie rolled her eyes. "Ally," she raised her voice, catching him at the door, "before you go home, will you run up to Morrisons' and tell Nell that we three are going out for a bit after work?" "Sure, happy to," he replied, and left, turning toward Lizzie's building. Lizzie groaned. She ran to the door and called out to him, "Ally, wait!" When he turned back, she continued, "Ma doesn't know about the course -- just tell her we feel like going out for a bit, that's all." He nodded his understanding and headed up the walkway. Back inside the shop, she looked at Marie mischievously. "Maybe it calls for one drink," she said. The one drink turned into two or three, and it was past midnight when Ally and Marie dropped Lizzie off at her flat. When she let herself in, she saw that the kitchen light was still on. Lizzie was not exactly drunk, but she did feel very pleasant indeed as she slipped off her shoes. Quietly checking the flat, she discovered Nell and Frankie in their beds, sleeping soundly. She hummed her favorite song under her breath. " 'When I was a young girl, I dreamed of a lover...'" It had been -- fun -- to go out and actually relax with friends for a few hours. She couldn't recall the last time she had sat and laughed without worrying about being recognized by someone from her old life. Lizzie hadn't enjoyed herself so much since Marie and Denny talked her and Frankie into staying at that dance last spring. She sat down on the dilapidated old sofa, smiling as she remembered dancing to her favorite song in the arms of her friend's handsome brother. Her thoughts wandered on to the searing, wordless kiss good-bye outside her door. Despite the months that passed, her heart still pounded when she allowed herself to think of it. She could not remember which one of them had moved first, only that she had been lost in his sea-colored eyes. They had blazed into hers with mesmerizing intensity as long seconds stretched out, gradually pulling her into Denny's loose embrace. She recalled her surprise when he had gently rested his forehead against hers for a moment before lowering his mouth to hers. His full lips had been warm and sweet, with a slight tang of ale and tobacco as they tenderly caressed hers. She had wanted more, and knew he did too, even when he broke the kiss. Once more resting his head against hers for a few seconds, he had turned silently away to walk down the stairs, and, she had thought at the time, out of her life. Emboldened by a combination of alcohol and memory, she went to the linen cupboard and slipped her hand into the folded tablecloth. There, undisturbed, was the letter from the man who had given her that amazing kiss. It might not be very personal, but it was something. She set it down on the table, then got paper and a pen out a drawer. Sitting down, she began her reply. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/04/08 23:00:57. Edited 4 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#5	[-]
Posts: 52 (10/09/07 02:01:21) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 6 Denny rubbed his eyes blearily. After twelve hours, he was ready for this watch to end. Looking out the window from his position on the Hull's bridge, he thought he discerned other shapes in the distance, a darker gray than the pre-dawn sky and water. They were either destroyers or other minesweepers, all part of a convoy through waters where mines had been reported. The eastern horizon brightened steadily as the line of ships plowed northward over the dull waves. Considered combat conditions despite the absence of enemy fire, this deployment meant that every crew member on every ship stood watch half of every twenty-four hours. Time crawled. Sunrise turned the sea from blank gray to deep blue in minutes and foam glistened pale gold and rose as a light wind whipped across the waters surface. However, the beauty of the morning failed to impress Denny. By now the only things he cared about were breakfast and sleep. Wearily, he kept his attention focused on the ship's controls. Relief arrived, literally, in the form of the day watch. After briefing his replacement, he left the bridge and headed to the wardroom, hunching into the chilly morning breeze and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Folded paper met his fingertips, and a smile ghosted across his lips. The letters from Lizzie and Frankie had arrived in the last mail call before this assignment. He had taken to carrying them with him to read in the occasional spare moment. Frankie's letters never failed lift his spirits. And his heart had given a peculiar sideways leap at the sight of an envelope addressed in Lizzie's handwriting. He reached the wardroom after only a few minutes. It was more crowded than usual this morning. Under combat conditions, Captain Gage customarily ordered the officers' mess to serve the entire crew to make it easier on the ship's cooks. Right now, several enlisted men and officers breakfasted alongside each other. The small size of the minesweeper's crew reduced the usual formality between ranks, and a friendly hum of conversation surrounded Denny. So did the mouth-watering aromas of coffee, sausage and bacon, making his stomach rumble. After getting his meal, he found a seat between young Lieutenant Felton and Colin Bulith, a middle-aged Chief Petty Officer he had known for some years. "Lovely morning, isnt it, sir?" Felton radiated good nature as he plowed his way through a gargantuan helping of oatmeal, liberally covered with cream and sugar, accompanied by a mug of steaming tea. Denny glanced at Colin and recognized an echo of his own opinion of such revolting cheeriness first thing in the morning. They shared a commiserating look before he started in on his own meal of hash browns, oatmeal, sausage and buttered toast washed down with orange juice. "The lieutenant goes on duty at four bells." The Chief managed to sound dour despite his lilting Welch accent. The other two didn't blame him; Colin also spent last night on duty. The older man continued to study a technical manual despite Felton's chatter. Denny decided to draw the boys fire. "Rin tin tin, Felton?" "Yes indeed, sir. I went to bed early, in fact. Even had time this morning for a few laps around the deck first thing." Luckily, the exuberant young officer excused himself before his companions strangled him. The other two men then ate in companionable, blessed silence until Colin left for his own bunk. Absently, Denny pulled the letters from his pocket and unfolded them as he finished up. Frankie's first. The description of his mother's argument with Nell tickled him every time he read it. As Lizzie told him the first time they met, the lad was a fine wee writer. He opened her letter and carefully smoothed the pages out on the table before him. As he read it over once more, he imagined the musical sound of her voice. Dear Denny, It was nice of you to write to me. Thanks for asking about Frankie and me. Things are a lot better for all us now. Frankie starts school soon -- you can't believe how much he grew this summer! Of course he's not exactly looking forward to school, but I think he's glad he doesn't have to go to a new one this year. It's been hard for him to make friends and leave them all the time. I don't even recall the last time we were able to stay in one place for more than 6 months. (Of course, its not much of a place were in now -- well, you've seen it. But it is affordable.) Don't laugh, but I'll be starting school again myself in September. Just one course on Thursday nights, but it's for a bookkeeping certificate. Hopefully that will get me a job where I can earn a bit more. I'm not complaining about working at the shop! I'll be there for awhile yet. Marie was the one who encouraged me to apply for the course. In fact, she and Ally are the only ones I've told so far. And now you, of course. I can't seem to get up the nerve to tell Ma and Frankie yet. I think Frankie will be fine, but who knows what Ma will say? The thing is, I'm scared to death. I never thought I'd be taking a university class, ever. I picked bookkeeping because I got so good at counting pennies over the last six years. I can do the same thing for other people, right? But I'm afraid of failing the tests, or not being able to keep up with the work or something. Sorry to run on about my nerves -- on a minesweeper, you must have worse problems than I do. It's been a beautiful summer here -- more sun than usual. Everything is lush and green, though I like it when the colors change in the fall. (If only winter didn't follow.) On Sundays Frankie and I often walk to the hill overlooking the harbor with Marie and Ally. It's the one he had us go to when you were here -- do you remember? I should say that Ally and I go so the other two know when its time to come home -- I think your sister and my son would live on that spot if they could. I've been watching the news and it looks like most of the fighting takes place on land. I hope that's right and you are really, really bored. Meanwhile, we keep you in our thoughts every day. Cordially, Lizzie Morrison Denny returned to the mundane sights and sounds of the wardroom. For a moment, he had looked out over the harbor with Lizzie and Frankie again. A yawn overtook him unexpectedly, reminding him that he needed to get some sleep before going on duty again. Folding up her letter gently, he put it back in his pocket with Frankie's. Twenty minutes later found him stretched out in his bunk sleeping soundly. In dreams, he sat once more on the hill overlooking the harbor, but with only Lizzie by his side this time. Music came from somewhere nearby as he stood and held his hand out to her in a silent invitation. She reached up to take it, and in a single liquid motion he pulled her into his arms. Their surroundings changed to the hall where they had shared their first dance, but this time she leaned into him unhesitatingly, wrapping her arms around his body. Her head rested on his shoulder and he stroked the length of her back languidly as they slowly moved together to the music. Eventually, Lizzie lifted her head slightly and he looked deeply into her soft brown eyes for a long moment. When he leaned forward into a kiss, her lips softened under his in welcome as they had before the door of her flat. He desperately wanted to taste her. Her mouth opened willingly beneath his, but the music suddenly changed to a horrible high-pitched wail and she began to fade away. He struggled to hold onto her, but found himself entwined in the sheets while his alarm beeped. Groggily, he turned it off and sat for a moment on the edge of his bed. This had been his most vivid dream of Lizzie yet, leaving an ache in soul and body. He sighed, hoping he would not need a cold shower every time she sent him a letter. His battle to resist involvement with the quiet, bewitching woman had been lost days ago. The reply rested in his desk drawer, sealed, addressed and ready to send out with the next load of mail. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/05/08 20:26:06. Edited 2 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#6	[-]
Posts: 52 (11/21/07 03:21:38) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 7 Sitting in the middle of the lecture hall, Lizzie doggedly finished her notes. Around her, other students, a mix of teenagers and adults, collected their books and coats and left the room. Only after she finished did she close her notebook and put on her jacket. She had not gotten off to a good start in the class and felt an increasing sense of desperation as the weeks went by. It had taken her this long to pull her marks up above average. She knew she could do the course work; she knew it. But she had not counted on other factors. Coming to class in the evening meant she was already tired from a day's work, and it was hard to focus for four hours. Lizzie struggled to pay attention during the instructor's unenthusiastic presentation in the over-heated lecture hall. She had not realized how much bookkeeping depended on computer programs, either. This was her biggest challenge so far; she had virtually no experience with them. It did not help that she had not cracked a textbook in years -- not that she had ever been a top student as a teenager. She had fallen for Davey before she graduated, and for his lies about wanting to take care of her always. Sure she would spend her life caring for a devoted husband and their family, getting good marks and 'O' levels struck her as a waste of time. Her Ma, who took Davey's measure the first time he coaxed Lizzie to stay out past her curfew, had begged her in vain to put more effort into her schoolwork. She suffered the consequences now, only without Nell's support. Instead, her mother expressed doubts about her ability to pass a college class. By observing the more successful students, Lizzie had picked up some useful habits which paid off when her test scores improved. She doubted she would get more than a B for her final grade, though. Hopefully she could get a job without a better grade. She had imagined she would find a position by answering an advert, but whenever she looked, companies wanted someone with a full degree. She hoped her professor might have some useful advice for her. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she waited until he started up the steps to the door at the back of the hall. She nearly missed him, but managed to catch up at the top of the steps. "Excuse me, Mr. Howard." Lizzie hoped she did not sound too nervous. "I'm Lizzie Morrison. Erm, I was wondering if you might know anyplace where I could find a job with just a bookkeeping certificate. The papers don't have anything helpful and -- " He looked at her blankly as she began, then cut her off irritably. "That's the guidance office. Ground floor of the building next door, Monday through Friday till five-thirty." Turning, he continued out the door. She heard him grumble, "Bloody part-timers." "What a prat." She jumped at the contemptuous comment at her right shoulder. Looking over, she saw a blond bear of a man perhaps a few years older than she was. "Iain McLaren," he grinned, and stuck out his hand. Shaking it gingerly, she murmured, "Lizzie Morrison. Pleased to meet you." Despite his friendly expression, she did not attempt to engage in further conversation. After years of suffering at Daveys hands, at heart she feared strange men. Except for Denis Cochran, it seemed. She gave herself a mental shake to keep from getting distracted. "I'll be late home if I don't hurry," she said apologetically. It was not just an excuse. The last bus from campus to the stop nearest her flat left shortly after class got out. With a polite nod, she slipped out the door and walked down the hall. Iain did not take the hint. He kept up with her easily as she moved toward the outside doors. "So, you're a part-timer, too. What made you take bookkeeping?" His conversation held no hint of a threat, but she felt uncomfortable nevertheless. She did not know the man, it was dark out even if the campus was well-lit, and she wanted to get rid of him before he knew she took the bus. "The usual, I guess," she replied shortly. "Just want to see if I can get a better job." She tried to make her voice civil but distant. Relief swept through her when he waved and headed to the parking lot. She nearly ran to the bus stop. Sitting it the near-empty bus, she forgot about Iain McLaren as her thoughts chased round in circles. Her marks needed to improve. She needed to start looking for a job, but she couldn't find anyplace that would hire her with only a certificate. Going for a degree was out of the question; they did not have the money. She needed to improve her computer skills. Right, like she had a chance to do that. Maybe Ma had a point, she reflected. Maybe this is all just a waste of brass. 'Oh, God, it can't be,' she wailed mentally. 'I've got to do this!' She nearly broke down and cried but refused to give in to tears. By the time she let herself into the flat, she felt as glum as she ever had while hiding from Davey. She hoped Ma would be asleep so she could just have a cup of hot tea and crawl into bed. Things might look better in the morning. The kitchen light was on for her as usual. Dumping her book and notebook on the floor under her coat in an unconscious imitation of Frankie, she slipped off her shoes and quietly went to the kitchen doorway. Maybe she'd add a drop of whisky to her tea. Nell sat at the table, smoking and thumbing through the neighborhood paper. Her usual scowl deepened when she heard Lizzie and looked up. Lizzie broke the silence. "Whats up, Ma? Is Frankie okay?" Her mother had a strange look on her face; lips pressed into a straight line and eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, Frankie's fine." Lizzie winced involuntarily at the sugary-sarcastic tone of voice. "He got a letter from him today, so he's over the moon. Good thing I didn't tell him about that." She waved her cigarette at the envelope sitting at her daughter's place. Lizzie's glance followed the gesture and her heart somehow managed to sink and leap in the same moment. He had written back to her. And Ma knew, and was not happy about it. For a fleeting moment, she wondered why her mother felt such animosity toward a man who had shown their little family only kindness. Of greater importance just now was the need to defuse her wrath so that she would leave Lizzie alone with Denny's letter. Vaguely telling her mother that he had written her about Frankie's letters, she nearly convinced herself that their correspondence meant nothing to her. To prove her point, Lizzie tucked the letter into the back pocket of her jeans as if she was too tired to read it now. Later, when the flat was quiet and she had changed into a warm nightgown, Lizzie carefully took the folded letter out of her pocket. It felt thicker than his last one. Getting into bed, she settled back against her pillows, then carefully opened the envelope. Nervously licking her lips, she pulled out the pages and began to read. Dear Lizzie, I know you won't get this for awhile, because I have no access to the Royal Mail just now, but I got your letter a few days ago and wanted to write back. I'm so glad to hear that things are better for your family now. Frankie always sounds happy in his letters, but it sounds like you're happier, too. Just so you know, Frankie knew you were planning to something with your extra money but he didn't know what. Sorry to bring up your finances, but he told me about your arguments with your mother. He may be better at lip-reading than you think! Anyway, he'll know about your class by the time you read this. I hope he's proud of you. Lizzie, it's grand that you've gone back to school. You should be so proud of yourself. It may seem hard at first, but I know you'll succeed. Don't worry about being too old -- I mean, you're not even 30 yet, are you? (Are you? You hardly look old enough to be Frankie's mother.) After I'd been in the Navy for a year or so, I started college part-time so I could get into officer training. It's intimidating at first, but you get used to it. Besides, compared to the load you had to carry when you were hiding from Davey, one wee bookkeeping course should be a piece of cake. One other thing -- I hope it's not too soon to mention it, but our deployment is scheduled to end before too much longer and we'll be back in port. I'll have a fair bit of leave then, so I wonder if it would be okay to see Frankie again, and you. I'll have to spend some time over in Edinburgh with my mother, and of course I want to spend time with Marie, but I would really like to spend another day or two with you and Frankie. If you have time, maybe you and I could even go out for a movie or something. Think about it? Write back soon, Denny Lizzie finished reading, near tears for the second time that evening. Denny's words encouraged and comforted her. He reminded her of the odds she beat by caring for Frankie and her mother for the last several years. He wanted to see them again. To see her. If she had been alone in the flat, she would have danced with happiness. Instead, she turned out her bedside lamp and curled up under the blankets, tucking his letter under her pillow. Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/11/08 22:06:24. Edited 1 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#7	[-]
Posts: 52 (12/07/07 02:02:35) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 8 Shoppers bustled along the street in the small port town. The Hull was docked at a nearby naval base for five days for a quick inspection before sailing for Scotland. Meanwhile, the crew took advantage of permission to go ashore when not on duty. Although the crew mailed their Christmas packages home weeks earlier, several men purchased a few extra gifts for loved ones. Those lucky enough to be off-duty in the evenings took advantage of the night life offered in a nearby town. Of course, the clerks tweaked the duty roster so that everybody had at least a couple nights off. From inside a small shop, Denny looked out the window while he waited for the cashier to ring up his purchase. It had rained that morning, but this afternoon grey-white clouds scudded across the sky, allowing warm splashes of sunlight to travel along the damp pavement. Winter here was far more pleasant than his home in Glasgow. There, he knew it would be almost dark by this time of day, and probably miserably cold and wet as well. He couldn't wait to get back. The cashier, a very pretty redhead, tried to flirt with him when she handed him his bag. He flashed her a smile that would haunt her dreams for at least a month and stepped out into the street. It was time to return to the Hull and change into his uniform. His smile faded as he contemplated the fact that he would wear a Lieutenant-Commander's insignia for the forseeable future. As Captain Gage predicted, the promotion board had turned him down, citing the lack of diverse postings in his record. Well, the Old Man had tried to warn him, he reflected. He couldn't very well complain, at least not aloud. But he didn't like being balked any more now than he had when he was a kid. Preoccupied, he did not notice the admiring glances cast his way from several women that he passed. His rich blue henley shirt stretched over his muscular shoulders and biceps and gave his clear eyes a bluegreen cast. Tanned after months at sea in a warm climate, his face and the triangle of skin at the base of his neck glowed against the vivid color. A pair of jeans comfortably hugged his hips and long legs. The only jarring note in his outfit was his pair of worn trainers. Denny seldom replaced any of his civilian shoes until they were on the verge of falling apart, or as he described them, "properly broken in." He could not understand why this habit drove his mother and Marie to despair. Eventually, he reached his ship and boarded. He had eaten in town for a change of pace from the ships fare, so there was plenty of time before reporting for duty. He decided to check his mail. When he noticed one of the letters was from Lizzie, his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly in a hurry, he slipped below deck to his quarters. Denny did not even bother to empty the bags containing his purchases, instead chucking them into the locker that served as a closet. He put his mail on his desk. A package which, he guessed, contained some books he had ordered awhile ago, an envelope from his mother, and one from his solicitor. They would keep. He sat down and tore open Lizzie's letter. Dear Denny, You don't know how glad I was to hear from you! I had a pretty bad day when I thought I'd made a terrible mistake going back to school. Everything was just so much harder than I expected. It's like you knew I needed some encouragement -- thank you so much. It was good to have somebody tell me I can do this. Anyway, things are better now. I've pulled my overall score up and I might even get an A for my final grade. I don't know if I will for sure. The instructor is such a deadly bore, it's hard not to fall asleep listening to him for four hours. Thank goodness I only have to listen to him once a week. I couldn't find a position in the adverts, so I ended up going to the guidance office. Amazing -- they actually helped! The counselor gave me a list of places looking for bookkeeping help on the cheap -- meaning they hire people like me instead of somebody with a full accounting degree. The first interview is tomorrow afternoon, for a full-time position, which would be grand. Ma can be home for Frankie when he's not in school. (She complains a lot, but I'm glad to have her. The only problem is if she has to cook dinner. I swear she'd give Frankie chips for every single meal!) The counselor even arranged for me to get some time in the university computer lab, which I need for most of my homework at this point. That's pretty rough on my schedule -- needless to say Marie wasn't exactly thrilled about me taking more time off each week, but we've worked it out so that I work weekends now, and I also offered to do her books. I hardly see Frankie (as Ma points out endlessly) but that's only till my class is done on December 20th. He's doing well in school this year. Ricky & Catriona are in his class again, so he's delighted about that. What I can't believe is that he's still growing like a weed. I'd love to get him some books or something fun for Christmas, but it's going to have to be all clothes. The trousers we got for him three months ago are already too short! I feel bad -- when you're a kid toys are always better than clothes. Frankie won't complain. He never does, and I think that's what breaks my heart most. Hopefully next year will be better, though. It would mean the world to Frankie if he could spend time with you while you're back. I know whenever he gets a letter from you because his face just lights up. I'd also enjoy seeing you again. Going to a movie sounds wonderful. I don't even remember the last one I saw, it's been so long. If youre feeling really brave, you could have dinner with us at our flat sometime during your leave. (I'm not a bad cook, but our place is pretty small and Ma will be there.) It's almost time to leave for class tonight, so I need to finish this up if Im going to mail it on the way. Do you know when youll be back? Stay safe till then. Warmly, Lizzie She did want to see him! He would visit Lizzie and Frankie again in a matter of weeks. He still smarted from being turned down for promotion, and he fully expected his solicitor to have more bad news about his custody battle. But he treasured this one bit of good news. He grimaced before picking up the solicitors letter and opening it. The single page nearly made his jaw drop. Jean agreed to let him see Alex when he returned. He wondered what she had up her sleeve. Bitter experience taught him that she had an ulterior motive when she made concessions like this, but there was no way he would pass up seeing his son. He grinned. Alex, Lizzie, and Frankie. This might be the best Christmas he had had in years. His good mood over the next several days startled the rest of the crew. Lieutenant-Commander Cochran was not the sort of officer who took personal problems out on subordinates, but his men expected him to be irritable after being denied promotion. When not on duty, he immersed himself in making arrangements for his leave. He would not risk his ex-wife changing her mind about letting him visit their son, for one thing. After several emails between him, his solicitor and Jean's solicitor, he had a day and time set to see Alex. There were other details to take care of as well involving at least one phone call to Scotland. "Maries, how can I help you?" From the noise in the background, he gathered he had phoned during a busy time. The call would have to be brief. "Hey, big sister! How are you?" Denny winced and held the phone away from his ear at her piercing squeal of delight. "Are you okay? Where are you?" She must have put her hand over the receiver, for she followed her questions to him with a muffled shout. "Keep your hair on! I'm talking to my brother overseas." "I'm great, just great. Listen, I need you to do some things for me." He outlined his requests. Marie made a mock protest for form's sake, but listened carefully after that. "Right, I'll call Mother tonight," she assured him when he finished. "God, I can't wait to see you again. I miss you, baby brother." He rolled his eyes at the nickname, but did not protest. It would not have made a bit difference anyway. "I love you too, Marie," he replied affectionately. "Take care. And say 'hi' to Ally for me." They quickly said their goodbyes and hung up. Later, Denny sat down at his desk and took out a list of tasks he made up earlier. Smiling as his gaze brushed over Frankie's seahorse, he crossed off several of them. As his pen moved over the paper, he thought he heard Lizzie in the back of his mind, whispering, "Only a few more weeks. " Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/12/08 23:52:00. Edited 1 times.
Ainaran	Re: Letters from Strangers	#8	[-]
Posts: 52 (12/28/07 04:58:20) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 9 The Hull docked on a cold afternoon five days before Christmas. Despite the bitter weather, families of the crew gathered on the dock bundled in coats and jackets, cheering and waving as the ship pulled into its berth. The crew members, standing at attention on deck, could not wave back, but everyone searched for his own beloved faces. More than one pair of eyes teared up from something besides the wind as each man identified wife, children, parents, siblings, friend. Denny shivered despite his wool coat and warm gloves, but he hardly noticed. The rest of the crew only returned to base today. He was coming home, and a lump formed in his throat as sight after familiar sight passed while the ship moved up the Clyde: the shore where he had hunted creatures in the tide pools as a boy, the promenade where he and his friends gathered as teenagers looking for trouble and girls, the hill where he'd found Marie countless times after she fought with their mother. He remembered the pang of disappointment he felt when he realized his ship returned the same day as Lizzie's final exam. He quite fancied the image of debarking into her arms. Later, it occurred to him that it might be for the best that she would be absent. She might reject him if grabbed her first thing. Besides, Marie never missed his homecomings; he thought his sister might be hurt if he went to her friend first. Little did he know that Marie's disappointment equaled his. She'd even asked Lizzie if she couldnt take the exam another day. He looked for his sister again, but missed her small figure in the crowd. After several moments, he discovered why. She stood between a taller figure that could only be Ally, and a smaller one jumping up and down excitedly. His heart leapt; for a moment, he thought Jean might have let Marie bring Alex. Almost immediately, he recognized his mistake. The boy was too big to be his son. A bittersweet smile curved his lips. Delighted as he was to see Frankie waiting for him, he would have loved to gather up his own child into a warm hug first thing. Alongside the Hull, Frankie danced with impatience. He tugged at Marie's hand. How much longer, he mouthed to her. She had picked up a little sign language, but mostly the two of them read each others lips. When she told him it would be awhile, he slumped against her dramatically. Putting an affectionate arm around the boy, she chuckled at Ally. "You know, he's a lot more like Nell than we thought. She acted like he'd fail his entire term for missing school today." Her partner laughed, well able to imagine the old woman's disgruntled expression when Marie and Lizzie told her Frankie would be permitted to come and greet Denny today. The two women waited until last night to spring it on her, just so Lizzie did not have to deal with her mother's histrionics. He put his arm around Marie and gently squeezed her close. "He might just be cold. God knows Im freezing my ba---" "Shhhhh!" Marie looked around in embarrassment. She would not change a single thing about her happy-go-lucky lover, but he did make quite a contrast to the proper military families around them. She felt Frankie tugging at her again. Smiling down at him, she tried to follow his hands as he signed to her. She bit her lip in concentration. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't follow. Try it slower, okay?" He rolled his brown eyes, but complied. He regarded Marie as a kind of aunt, but it was hard to talk to her. Shaking her head, she opened her purse and rooted around for a pen and paper. He sighed. They often had to write their conversations, but his thoughts always flew ahead of his pen. It frustrated him to be forced to slow down long enough to write them out. "I believe he's asking what the crew has to do before they are allowed to leave the ship." Marie nearly dropped her purse at the unfamiliar voice. A tall, somewhat horse-faced woman with graying brown hair smiled politely at them. She stood alone. Despite her expensive-looking coat and upper-class accent, her light blue eyes held a kind expression. To Marie's amazement, she proceeded to sign an answer to Frankie's question which the lad clearly understood. Beaming at the discovery of someone who could answer his questions as fast he could ask them, Frankie engaged her in an animated but silent conversation. After a few minutes, Marie tapped him on the shoulder to get him to look at her. "Frankie, you need to let the lady look for whoever she's here to meet." She smiled at the other woman apologetically. "I think he's excited having someone to talk to. He's the son of my friend, and I can't always follow him. Thank you for taking the time." "Not at all," the older woman replied. "I have a niece who is deaf, so I learned sign language years ago. He's quite the clever little fellow." Her gaze moved beyond them. "Oh! I do believe theyre coming out now." She held her gloved hand out to the boy, who shook it politely. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Frankie." As soon as he smiled in reply, she moved away from them, waving madly. Marie and Frankie did not notice. They watched the knots of uniformed men moving through the crowd for a tall, dark-haired figure. She found him first. "Denny! Oi! Over here!" He turned his head at her shriek, looking for them, and she shouted again. Grinning, he rushed up to them, dropped his gear and picked her up in a bear hug. He put Marie down only to feel Frankie attach himself like a limpet around his middle. Unlike the first time he embraced him, Denny's arms instantly encircled the boy. He ruffled his hair and looked down to return his bright grin. The little body still clung to his midriff as Denny reached out to shake Ally's hand. Marie cuddled next to her lover while Denny extricated himself from Frankie's arms. Awkwardly, he signed something to the boy. "Did I do it right?" His anxious expression deepened as the lad's brilliant smile grew wider. "I messed up, didn't I," he laughed ruefully. Frankie had watched, thrilled, as Denny carefully signed, "Hello, Frankie. You've got even bigger now." His 'good da' learned sign language for him! Or was learning, as he quickly discovered when he replied, "No! You didnt mess up at all." It took Denny a couple tries to understand. But his friend insisted he'd follow sign language better after they spent some time together. His heart danced at this reminder of the plans his Ma told him about. This was shaping up as the best Christmas holiday ever. All around them similarly enthusiastic reunions were taking place. Even Captain Gage abandoned his dignity to spend a good two minutes snogging his wife. Frankie saw them too. He had no idea who the captain was, but he recognized his new friend as she walked by. He waved happily to her. She smiled and waved back. Denny stared after them for a moment and shook his head. "How on earth did Frankie manage to meet the Old Mans wife?" He pitched his voice low enough that only his sister could hear. "Good God! Is that who that is? She seems very nice." Marie went on to describe their meeting as the foursome walked to Denny's car. She had picked it up the day before from the garage where he stored it while at sea. While they walked, brother and sister caught up with each other. Behind them, Ally and Frankie horsed around, making faces and batting hands playfully. They finally reached Denny's car. He stowed his bags in the boot and collected the keys from Marie. To his surprise, she told Ally to sit in front with him and got into the back seat with Frankie. Winking at the boy, she slid the tablet and pen out of her purse. Frankie wriggled closer to see what she wrote. "I'm asking when he'll see your Ma," he read. Aloud, Marie casually remarked, "Pity Lizzie couldn't bring Frankie, but she couldn't risk missing her final." Her brother replied only with a noncommittal grunt. She glared at the back of his head but pressed on chattily. "She's probably just getting ready to leave for her class now, I imagine. Pity your schedules didn't quite match. She won't even be finished in time to have a drink with us later. After the test, she told me the lecturer is grading them on the spot, and then she's got to take the bus all the way back to her flat. I'd tell you to go get her but I know how tired you are when you get back home." From behind him, it was impossible to gauge his response to her words. Frankie tugged at her sleeve. When she turned to the boy he spread his hands and raised his eyebrows. "What did you say?" She jotted down a summary of her words to her brother. "What did he say?" She shook her head and shrugged in frustrated ignorance. A few moments passed in silence before her brother spoke. "You know, Marie, I am pretty knackered. After we take Frankie home, maybe I'll just have one drink with you two and then head out." Denny's voice betrayed nothing on the surface, but Marie recognized the undertone of studied innocence. She repressed a wide smile. He apparently wanted to play things close to the chest, so she'd better go along. He continued, "After all, Mother is coming in early tomorrow, and I should be at the station to meet her." "Of course," she agreed with a straight face. "We'll drop off Frankie, you can take us by our place for dinner and a quick drink and off you go. You'll be able to leave by nine." Mentally, she added 'And that will give you plenty of time to get to the Davidson campus before Lizzie's class is over.' She reminded herself to be sure to mention during the evening which building her friend's class was in. On her tablet, she wrote, "I think he's going to try to see your Ma tonight," and passed it to her companion. He read it. They winked at each other. He held out his hand palm up, and she silently hit it with hers in a victory gesture. In fact, Lizzie was free to leave at nine-thirty, when she received her graded final exam back. She looked at the mark circled in red at the top and sighed in disappointment. If she'd scored just two points higher, she would have earned an A. Well, what was done was done. She gave thanks that her final marks would not affect her job prospects. The fourth place that interviewed her had offered a position as a bookkeeping clerk for thirty hours a week. She accepted the same day even though the job was not quite what shed hoped. Still, it paid significantly more than she could earn at Marie's, it was on a bus route and it would give her experience. Lizzie hoped to find a better job eventually, but this would do very well for now. She started right after New Year's. She looked down at her test again, reminding herself that she had done well to raise her marks this high from where theyd started out. It occurred to her to wonder what Denny might say. Would he even ask? She smiled suddenly, realizing that her Stranger was here again, back in port. Frankie had already seen and talked to him. And she would too, sometime in the next month, even if it was just a few minutes while he picked up her son or dropped him off. She would talk to him again, maybe even spend an evening with him -- maybe kiss him again? She had no idea how pretty she looked, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, thinking of that handsome profile, green eyes and warm lips. Iain McLaren noticed, however, and made his way toward her. He would not let this bird escape. Good thing they were both leaving at the same time. Surely she wanted to celebrate the end of the class, and he knew a fun little pub near the campus perfect for an ale or three. Give her enough to drink and she might loosen up a little. Those quiet types often turned out to be real firecrackers in the sack. Lizzie, all unaware, nearly defeated his plan when she slipped out of the classroom ahead of the rest of the class. He caught up with her at the end of the hall. Throwing a friendly arm around her shoulders, he boomed out, "Wherere you headed, lass? Ready to celebrate the last time well see that blithering arse Howard?" She nearly jumped out of her skin at the unwanted contact. Damn McLaren! He pestered her every week, always staying just this side of the line marking acceptable from threatening behavior. She looked forward to never seeing the obnoxious man again, provided she could get his hands off her now. "If you'll excuse me, I have a bus to catch." She hated looking up at him. It increased her sensation of vulnerability, particularly considering his solid build. She hoped they would not make a scene. He dropped his arm but accompanied her out the glass doors of the building. The night's damp chill descended on them. He bent his blond head toward her and lowered his voice. "Aw now, old Iain just wants to have the pleasure of your company for a few drinks tonight." By now, they were down the steps in front of the building, and he tried to herd her toward his car. Lizzie replied sharply, "I'm sorry, but I don't want the pleasure of your company. Leave me alone, now!" She spoke loudly enough that others turned to look at them, but no one interfered with McLaren when he started to turn ugly. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. "Look, girl, the weather's already cold. You don't need to turn frigid as well. How about you settle down, let me show you a good time and we'll take it from there." Infuriated at being manhandled, Lizzie snapped just as she had the last time she saw Davey. She jerked her arm out of his grip and stood her ground. "No, you settle down. I don't need any drinks, and if I did, I wouldn't have them with you." Her voice shook with anger. "I am going home. You can go to hell." McLaren made another grab at her and she jumped back, out of his reach. In the same moment, a tall body in a black wool coat stepped between them. A pleasant male voice calmly said, "I don't think the lady's interested, mate. If I were you, I'd get into my car and leave without making more of an arse of yourself than you have already." Lizzie froze. She knew that voice well; it had haunted her dreams for months. She watched, dumbfounded. Still in uniform, Lieutenant-Commander Denis Cochran easily intimidated his opponent. The big blond man moved away, mumbling something under his breath about not wanting to pick a fight with the bloody Royal Navy. Keeping his back to Lizzie, Denny stood stiffly, observing the other man's retreat. Only when McLaren got into his car and pulled out of the parking lot did he relax and turn to her. They stood gazing at one another, each afraid to believe the other was really there. Then Lizzie spoke. "I swear to God, I must have an invisible sign. 'Pick on me.'" Denny smiled the way he had when hed danced with her. I'm starting to wonder. But you were doing pretty good by yourself. Were you scared?" Instinctively he reached for her arm, but unlike Iain, he gently caressed it in a gesture of support. Entranced by his smile, his eyes, his touch, Lizzie nodded. "Terrified," she said, dreamily. "I think I've missed my bus." How could she have forgotten how beautiful he was? "Well, I should take you home, then." He did not move. Those beautiful deep eyes drew him in as effortlessly as they had before. He fell eagerly, dipping his head to hers as he pulled her into him. Their lips met, then opened for each other. His tongue explored her mouth gently, until she responded by brushing her own against it. He exhaled in a gasp of pleasure and tasted her deeply, his urgency matched by her own. Their first kiss had mingled two lifetimes of regret: for not finding each other sooner, for paths followed only to bitterness and hurt. Tonight's kiss wordlessly shared their delight at finding each other again. As passionate and deep as the first had been chaste and restrained, it left both of them gasping for breath as Denny rested his forehead against Lizzie's. "I'd better get you home," he whispered after he caught his breath. "Yeah," she replied softly. Looking up at him impishly, she asked, "Do I get a good-night kiss when we get there?" He slipped an arm around her waist and led her toward his car. "As long as your Ma doesn't catch us." Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/17/08 20:33:37. Edited 2 times.
Ainaran		#9	[-]
Posts: 26 (02/03/08 10:45:36) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 10 Ma and Nana always told Frankie there were better things in the world than toys. Most of the time he didn't believe them, but this Christmas was almost proving them right. He expected only a simple day with just the three of them when Ma had warned him in November that they could afford fewer things than normal because of her bookkeeping class. The days before the holiday did not give him much time to mope about that, though. For one thing, the very night his ship docked, Denny drove Ma home. Frankie wasn't supposed to know that, but he did because he snuck out of bed to watch for Ma from his bedroom window. It had taken Ma almost half an hour to climb the stairs to their apartment after she and Denny got out of his car. Catriona assured him that they must have spent the time kissing. Frankie thought Ma and Denny were far too old for that sort of thing, but he had to admit it did sound promising. On Christmas Eve, Ma and Nana prepared part of next day's dinner so they wouldn't have to spend as much time in the kitchen on the holiday. Meanwhile, Catriona and Ricky visited, sitting in Frankie's room. They nibbled on biscuits and played Trouble while speculating about Ma and Denny kissing. Or rather Catriona speculated while Frankie and Ricky rolled on the floor gagging. Next day, he was surprised at the number of packages with his name on them under their little tabletop tree. He got one package each from Ma and Nana, but they contained clothes. However, a small box from Ally turned out to be a hand-held computer game, while one from Marie held a couple of extra cartridges to go with it, along with a book about sharks. Ma then handed him the largest box under the tree. Opening it, he discovered a collection of good quality colored pencils, crayons and felt tip pens in every conceivable color. He looked curiously at the tag, then at Ma. "Who's Janet?" He regretted asking as soon as his fingers stopped moving, for Nana stormed into her room and slammed the door so hard he felt it through the floor. Ma licked her lips. "She's someone I knew before I left your Daddy." Frankie wanted to ask more, but she cut him off, calmly saying, "I'll tell you more later." She smiled reassuringly, but her mother's grim mood lasted for hours afterward. This morning, the smell of cooking sausage awakened him. He inhaled the blissful scent, then threw off the covers and bounded out of bed. It was Boxing Day, Marie and Ally had invited the three of them to their house for a late lunch. Denny would come pick them up. He padded out to the kitchen, where the rare sight of his mother and grandmother getting along greeted his eyes. Ma slid scrambled eggs from the frying pan onto their waiting plates. Nana smiled and winked at him while she poured tea into three mugs. The morning dragged its way to the time they were supposed to be picked up. When the knock came, Frankie rushed to open it, then stepped back, surprised. To his obvious disappointment, Ally stood on the threshold. Lizzie hid her feelings better than her son did, but inside she felt as crestfallen as the boy looked. Ally answered her unspoken question. "Change of plans. Denny can't make it today." Concerned, Lizzie asked what had happened. Ally evaded the question, just saying something had come up unexpectedly and giving no real reason for the absence. Marie opened the door when they arrived. "Come in, come in! Mother is here and can't wait to meet you!" To Lizzie, her smile looked strained, but her friend waved her questions aside. "Last minute adjustments," she whispered as she took their coats. Lizzie soon wondered if the problem lay with her friend's mother. Mrs. Cochran appeared to be a stout grandmotherly type, but Marie had clearly exaggerated her eagerness to meet the Morrisons. Upon being introduced, her brown eyes hardened and swept over them coldly and she spoke with bare civility. Nell took immediate offense and the two old women started exchanging polite barbs like a pair of circling duelists. Marie jerked her head toward the kitchen. "Why don't you make sure Ally has everything ready to bring out, Lizzie," she suggested. "And since Frankie brought some things to draw with, he can sit by the front windows where the light's good." She adeptly whisked the boy out of the line of fire. Thankfully Lizzie retreated. In the kitchen, she found Ally leaning comfortably against the counter holding a tumbler containing a couple fingers of whiskey. He raised it and toasted her. "Happy Christmas," he winked. She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder. "My God, she's terrifying," she said ruefully. "Is my family special or does Marie's mum give everybody the fisheye right off?" He grinned and poured her a whiskey. Lizzie knocked half of it back in one gulp. "It's you and me that are the special ones, lass. She doesn't think we're near good enough for her son and daughter. The way she acts around me, you'd think I was an axe-murderer." "Her son! I think I'm still more Marie's friend than Denny's," she exclaimed. "He's not even asked me out on a proper date." She blushed as she spoke, though, recalling the thorough snogs they had shared since his return. "He mentions you and Frankie quite a bit," replied Ally. "Just ask my girl, here." He moved past her to embrace Marie, who had quietly entered the kitchen. As she leaned into him, he ran his hands up and down her back. The gesture was in no way improper, but its tenderness created such a sense of intimacy between the two that Lizzie felt she should leave. "Only one more day before she leaves. I can make it," Marie sighed into his chest. Raising her head, she continued, "Ask me what?" "How often Denny talks about wee Frankie and his mum. I told Lizzie he's been doing that a lot since he got back." Marie's eyes twinkled. "Indeed he has. And since he's her favorite," she stated without rancor, "she's feeling sort of -- shall we say, protective." She grinned as her friend's cheeks changed from bright pink to crimson. Winding her arms around Ally's neck, she kissed him and asked, "Where's my whiskey? We still have to get through this afternoon." As the Cochran and Morrison families settled down to a civil, albeit strained meal, Denny shared a similar experience in one of Glasgow's toniest neighborhoods. Jean originally offered to let Alex spend Boxing Day with Denny, so he drove to the large Georgian home that morning to collect him. The housekeeper answered the door and asked him to wait in the paneled foyer. Jean greeted him a few minutes later, alone. Their conversation was coldly polite. As they spoke, Denny took stock of his ex-wife. Once her dainty blonde beauty had captivated him, but he knew now those sky-blue eyes of hers hid a cold, essentially selfish soul. She still dressed well, he noted, running a quick glance over her powder blue twin set and diamond pendant. Apparently Jean believed in taking full advantage of her new husband's six-figure income. God knew she'd run through enough of Denny's money during their marriage. Finally she sent for Alex. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he watched his son come down the stairs holding her husband's hand. A brief silence descended when the two reached the bottom of the steps. The five-year-old looked up at him solemnly, without recognition. After an awkward moment, Denny knelt down to the boy's level and said gently, "Happy Christmas, Alex. Do you remember your Daddy?" The child looked up at Jean's husband in confusion. "I thought you were going to be my papa." Under Denny's suddenly frigid stare, the man had the grace to look embarrassed. Jean intervened before either man could speak. "We know you want Baird to be your Papa." Her voice dripped sweetness while she threw Denny a look of triumph combined with spite. "And Mummy's doing everything she can so he will be." He needed every ounce of the discipline instilled by his naval training to keep his fury under control. Recalling the frightening rows his parents had had when he was Alex's age, he forced himself to speak calmly. "The fact is, Alex, that I will always be your Daddy, because I will always love you even though Mummy and I aren't married anymore." He didn't know how much of his meaning his son grasped, but he had just made his position crystal clear to the other two adults. "And it would be best to discuss this subject later," Baird stated firmly. As Denny had no desire to get into a custody argument with them on their turf, he agreed with a show of affability. He continued to focus on the little boy with his eyes. "Do you remember what I do, Alex?" He kept his voice warm and patient, wanting only to win his son's confidence. The thinking for a moment, the boy shyly offered, "You sail a big ship." He had not completely forgotten. Denny's smile widened in relief. "Yeah, that's right. I have a picture of it with me. Would you like to see?" Alex nodded and approached him cautiously, the exact opposite of Frankie Morrison's enthusiastic greetings. Pushing that memory aside, he pulled an envelope filled with snapshots from the pocket of his leather jacket. Sorting through them, he pulled out one of the Hull and gave it to the boy. His vision blurred a little watching his son's chubby finger trace the ship's outline. As if from a distance he heard Jean's cool voice ask where he planned to take Alex today. Careful to blink the moistness away before standing to answer her, he said, "We'll just be at Marie's with my mother and some friends." "Oh my God. You are not taking my son to spend the day with your sister and whoever she's shacking up with now." Her voice dripped with disgust. "JEAN!" Her rudeness even shocked her husband. "That's enough." Denny's growled words cut underneath Baird's exclamation, and his ex instinctively drew back. For the first time in his life, he contemplated striking a woman. He shoved his clenched fists into his pockets and forced himself to speak in a neutral tone of voice. "You've already agreed in writing that Alex is spending the day with me." "That was before I knew you were going to drag him to your sister's." He realized she had been trying to goad him into losing his temper in front of their son since his arrival. Recognizing the tactic helped him remain calm. "Come off it, Jean. You never had a problem with Marie while we were married. And it's not like she's committing adultery," he added snidely. She flushed at the reminder of her infidelity as her husband looked at her in amazement. 'Bet you didn't know that, did you, Bairdy-boy,' he thought with a smirk. Nevertheless, his ex-wife adamantly refused to let Alex leave with Denny. She even started a shouting match with Baird after he pointed out that she had not placed restrictions on Denny's outing with the boy. Denny felt something lean against his leg. Looking down, he saw Alex pressed against him. The lad gazed at his screaming mother, round-eyed. He stroked the dark curls protectively. His son looked up and smiled at him for the first time that day. As his mother launched into another tirade, the boy flinched. Denny made a decision. He did not want his son to associate his visits with ugly scenes. He could not take Alex with him today. "All right!" He spoke forcefully enough to stop Jean mid-shriek. "I won't take Alex with me today." Cynically, he watched her wrath dissapate in seconds. "Thank you for being so reasonable, Denny," she cooed. "We'll arrange for you to take him another day." "There's no need to go to all that trouble." He delivered his most charming smile. It did not reach his eyes. "Luckily, I thought to bring Alex's presents with me. I'll just spend the day here." Jean's expression froze. "You can't stay here," she exclaimed sharply. "We're expecting guests." "Wonderful! Anyone I know?" Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/25/08 15:04:00. Edited 8 times.
Ainaran		#10	[-]
Posts: 32 (02/25/08 15:01:46) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 11 The day after the disappointing get-together at Marie and Ally's, Lizzie and her son both felt out of sorts. As she walked the short way to the shop, she tried to snap herself out of her gloom. She left her Ma cleaning up the flat while Frankie curled up on the sofa copying a picture from his new shark book. On the surface, all appeared calm. But she had observed the droop to her boy's mouth as his new crayons moved over the pad. It matched her own spirits. She admitted that she felt let down by Denny's non-appearance the previous day. 'Stop pouting,' she scolded herself as she arrived at the door. 'It's not like he promised to be there.' She entered and caught her breath. Marie stood in her usual place behind the counter. But sitting at a table near the beaded doorway to the back of the shop, Denny sat, sipping a coffee. He looked up, clearly waiting for her. He looked more handsome than ever in his leather jacket and black turtleneck. Against the dark colors, his wide eyes glowed blue green. Lizzie collected herself. "Morning." She included both of them in the greeting, then stalked past him to hang up her coat in the back office. His footsteps sounded behind her. When she turned, his body blocked the tiny hallway. Lizzie crossed her arms. "I'd really like to get to work. If you're here about yesterday --" "Of course I'm here about yesterday!" The words exploded out of him. "I told you I'd pick all of you up and I didn't. I owe you an explanation." Lizzie studied the floor. She had gotten her fill of 'explanations'while married to Davey. The word grated on her even though Denny was different from her unmourned husband. Raising her gaze to meet his, she shrugged and moved past him. "Okay, let's talk out front." Puzzled by the closed expression on her face, he moved out of her way without protest. Her request to speak in the shop instead of in the privacy of the back room surprised him, but he acquiesced. In sunlit front of the shop, a smile broke across Marie's face as the two of them pushed past the beaded curtain almost together. It faded almost at once as she realized that her brother and her friend had not made peace with one another. Denny frowned and jerked his head toward the store room, and she promptly excused herself, asking Lizzie to take over the counter. "But it's dead empty, so if you two…you know…just want to have a sit down and chat, that's just fine." Under the glare of two pairs eyes, Marie slipped out. Denny gestured to the table where his abandoned coffee cooled. "Sit?" His wait for Lizzie's answer robbed the word of arrogance. After a pause, she seated herself so that she could watch the door for customers. Only then did he join her. She took a deep breath. "Frankie missed you yesterday." Her hands, clasped on the table, twitched slightly. "So did I," she nearly whispered. Denny's immediate and heartfelt apology failed to comfort her. The situation just reminded her too much of her marriage. She cocked her head to one side still unsmiling. "Look, why don't you just tell me what really happened." He blew a breath of air out of his cheeks. "It's an awful long story, lass, and you've just started your watch." Seeing her skeptically raised eyebrow, he nodded. "I'll try to give you the short version." He sat back and collected his thoughts. "I have a son of my own, and I don't get many chances to see him," he reluctantly began. He explained how he'd expected to have Alex with them at lunch yesterday, and why he chose to spend the afternoon under his ex-wife's roof instead of dragging his son away while Jean made a scene. When he finished, Lizzie's hand had slipped over his and her eyes shone with sympathy. "That's awful, Denny. And your mother came from Edinburgh especially to spend yesterday with Alex?" He nodded sadly. 'No wonder she was so awful,' she thought to herself. Aloud, she asked, "Why didn't you tell Frankie or me before?" He looked confused. "When did I have a chance? I only got back home a week ago and I haven't had any time with either of you." She spread her hands in mild exasperation. "You could have written." "It never occurred to me," Denny hunched over his cup unhappily. He raised his gaze to meet hers. "The whole subject of my ex-wife and her bloody-mindedness is so -- so --" "Painful? Humiliating?" Lizzie smiled at him in sad understanding. "Yeah," he sighed. "It's hard enough to talk about it face to face. With what you told me about your marriage, I was afraid you'd think I'd done something to make Jean keep our son away from me. Like you had to protect Frankie --" "Denny." She ran her hand down his muscular arm, stopping him short. "Listen to me. I would never mistake you for Davey. Never." She took a deep breath, for she had just admitted to herself how much she trusted this man. "I've seen you with Frankie. I know how patient and gentle you are with him, and you'd never treat your own boy any different. Come on, I lived with an abuser long enough to recognize the type." She trusted him after all. His face lit up at her declaration and he caught her hand, raising it to his lips. Telling Lizzie about Alex and his problems with Jean lifted a weight from his shoulders that he had not realized he carried. Tingles ran up her arm from his tender gesture, and she caught her breath at the warmth in his green eyes. She continued in a rather shaky voice. "I think we should tell Frankie as soon as possible. It's only fair." "Yeah, you're right, but how will he take it?" Her heart melted at Denny's concern for her son. Remembering her son's description of their Stranger as his 'good da', Lizzie said, "It'll be hard for him to hear it, but he should know about Alex." Denny nodded, thinking. He smiled slightly when she squeezed his hand and excused herself to slip behind the counter, but did not speak. She was right, the boy deserved the truth. But Frankie's seahorse revealed how the lad thought of him, and he did not want to betray those feelings. A couple of neighborhood boys drifted in; he watched to be sure they did not give Lizzie a hard time. The teenagers tried, but she handled them deftly. A proud smile played about his lips. She had lost some of her timidity since he had left in the spring. He had seen flashes of her inner courage and confidence then and wanted to coax more out of her. But first an important piece of business awaited him. Once she finished with her customers, he stood and strolled over to the counter. He winked at her. "I have an idea." Several minutes later, he followed Lizzie into their flat. Nell gaped at him while Frankie shot off the couch to fling himself onto Denny. When his mother signed that she'd given Denny permission to take Frankie to tea and a movie, the lad pumped his fist and scrambled into his jacket. Meanwhile she spoke softly to her Ma. Surprisingly, the old woman's wrinkled scowl eased somewhat and she offered to have the table ready for dinner by the time Lizzie's shift was over. As she left the apartment, Denny murmured, "She took that well." She shivered a little at the vibration of his voice in her ear, then chuckled. "I told you, she loves barbeque." Her mood deepened as she reflected why Denny wanted to spend time with Frankie today. "Be careful how you tell him, yeah? I need to get back to the shop." Waving to Frankie, she hurried back to Marie's, thankful for such a thoughtful boss and friend. Once there, she shamelessly pumped Denny's sister for information about his ex-wife. While Marie would never discuss details of her brother's marriage, she described Jean's character in unloving detail, and the two spent the afternoon happily gossiping. "Oy, you've gone over to the enemy," Marie laughed. "Get those things out of here before I lose all my dinner business, brat." From her place beside Lizzie, she waved her hands at her brother as if to shoo him out of the shop Denny stuck his tongue out at her. A large white cardboard box in one hand emitted a smoky odor that set everyone's mouth to watering, and a large brown paper bag dangled from the other. "I can't eat fish and chips every day! Tonight, Frankie and I eat like men. Barbeque, coleslaw and biscuits. Ready, Lizzie?" From her place beside Marie, she tore her concerned attention away from Frankie. "Yeah, I'll be done in a tick." She finished cashing out the drawer while Marie waited to take over for the evening. Her son looked a little subdued, but not unhappy as he stood beside their friend, holding a white sack. Minutes later, she fell into step beside Denny as Frankie led the way to their building. "How did he take it?" In the darkness, they could speak without the boy's sharp eyes following their conversation. After a few steps, the man at her side answered. "He looked disappointed mostly. I just told him the bare facts: I've been married, I have a young son -- I showed him Alex's school picture. I tried to convince him that I want to stay in his life -- and I do want that, Lizzie." His voice roughened with the intensity of his feelings. "After dealing with Jean, it means so much to have him, I don't know, look up to me." From what Marie told her that afternoon, she believed him. She squeezed his arm in attempt to show she understood. "I'll talk to him before bed tonight and see how he's doing." They did not speak again until they arrived at the Morrisons' flat. Nell must have spent the afternoon cleaning. She took Frankie's sack and the box from Denny, but he held onto the brown paper bag. "No, I'll empty this." With a flourish, he pulled out three packages in gaudy Christmas wrapping. Later, after licking and washing the last tangy remains of ribs from their fingers, the Morrisons opened their packages. Nell and Lizzie received large hand-embroidered scarves. Nell examined the bright floral pattern on hers with pleasure. "This is nice," she admitted. "You picked this yourself?" Denny couldn't help but guffaw at her patent disbelief. "Ma-a-a!" Lizzie groaned at her mother's bad manners. She beamed at Denny, stroking the elegant red-on-red material of her own gift. "This is beautiful. I can't remember the last time I've had anything so lovely." Frankie had already thanked his friend for the games he sat playing in his new hand-held set, while Denny held the handsomely framed pencil drawing of a great white shark given to him by Lizzie and Frankie. When she tried to apologize to their guest once more for their small gift to him, he shushed her. "I have an idea," he told her for the second time that day. "Walk me to my car?" Nell sniffed but said nothing as they left the flat. As soon as Lizzie pulled the door shut behind them, she found herself pushed against the tiled wall of the small landing while Denny snogged the living daylights out of her. As usual, her knees turned to goo and she would have melted onto the floor if not for his muscular body holding her up. "I've wanted to do that for hours." He growled the words into her ear as his hands slipped under her sweater. "Me too." She hid her face in his chest as she whispered the admission, loving the feel of his hands on her skin. "Lizzie." Raising her face, she found him looking down at her with a tender smile. "I can't keep groping you in the hallway. For one thing, we haven't even gone on a proper date yet, and for another -- " he ground his hips against hers, demonstrating his state of arousal " -- I think it's going to kill me." "I'm not sure what our options are since you don't have a place of your own," she replied softly. "I'd die of embarrassment to show up at Marie's with you and disappear upstairs, even you two wouldn't." "Marie and I both own the house, I've told you," he argued in a whisper. "That's where I live when I'm in port; that is my place." To take the sting out of his words, he kissed her gently. "And this weekend when Ally's band is playing out of town, I'm going to be alone in my place because Marie is going with him. I'd like to take you out for dinner, or a movie or both, and if you'd like to come back with me..." His voice trailed of suggestively. She sighed. "And if Marie's gone, who do you think will be working at the shop all weekend, genius?" He rested his forehead against hers. "We'll make it a late movie. At least say you'll go out with me." She kissed him and giggled. "Yeah, I guess." Last Edited By: Ainaran 02/28/08 00:54:19. Edited 1 times.
Ainaran		#11	[-]
Posts: 34 (03/08/08 09:38:08) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 12 The following Saturday night found Lizzie hurrying to close up the shop while not forgetting anything important. She checked items off her mental list as she put on her jacket. The fryer had been turned off and emptied, the till emptied as well and the cash placed in the office safe. The front and back door were both locked; she'd checked each of them three times. The tables and counter were clean. She forced herself to look around carefully. Finally satisfied that everything stood ready for the next day, she unlocked the front door and slipped into the street. Locking it and checking it one last time, she tucked the key into her pocket and rushed home. Denny had offered to pick her up from the shop right after work but she wanted to wash off the smell of fried fish. She hung her jacket up when she entered the flat. The main room was empty, so she stuck her head in the kitchen on her way to the shower. Nell looked up from her place at the kitchen table, causing Frankie to look over his shoulder as he sat in the chair opposite. They appeared to be involved in a fierce game of 'War', judging by the cards in their hands and piled up at their elbows. The old woman raised her eyebrows and pulled a face, but said nothing. To her daughter's amusement, Nell was so torn between relief that Lizzie was dating again and suspicion of Denny that she could only mutter under her breath about the situation. "I need to get cleaned up," she told her ma. "I should be ready by the time he gets here." With a wink at her son, she disappeared into the bathroom. After showering and shampooing in record time, she towel-dried her hair as much as she could, wondering how to wear it. She pondered the question as she dressed in the clingy black lambswool sweater and clean jeans she'd set out on the bed before going to work that day. Finally she gave up and decided to wear it down, letting the dark strands frame her face. Gold-tone hoop earrings completed her outfit. She carefully applied her make up, and as a finishing touch sprayed on a light floral cologne given to her by Nell and Frankie for Christmas. She thought she heard a knock on the door of the flat. Hastily stepping into her shoes, she rushed to answer it. Frankie had beaten her, however. Mostly recovered from the shock of learning that Denny had a son of his own, he moved his hands in conversation as the man tried his best to follow. Nell stood in the kitchen doorway watching them, arms crossed, but without her habitual scowl. "When did he start learning sign language?" The question came out in a bemused growl. Lizzie shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "Frankie told me he said hello in it when he docked," she whispered. At the sound of her voice, Denny looked up. She felt her face warming as his appreciative glance swept over her. His appearance took her own breath away. He wore jeans, too, and his favorite leather jacket. His pale green shirt brought out the color in his wide eyes even in the poor light of the flat. They looked at one another for a long moment. "And when are you going to be home?" Nell's gravelly voice broke the spell. Lizzie gaped at her mother in disbelief, then recovered. "Well, it's not like I have curfew now, is it?" Nell's expression clouded and her eyes narrowed, but before her wrath could burst out, her daughter fixed her with a glare of her own. "Ma. I am thirty-two years old. I am going on a date. To a movie." She took a deep breath before continuing. "We may stop somewhere afterwards. I promise to be home before daylight." "Elizabeth Anne, you watch your mouth in front of the boy!" Nell's hissed remonstration made no sense in view of Frankie's deafness. Besides, judging from his impudent grin, he had read every twitch of their lips. Denny stepped in. To the lad, he signed, "I'll take good care of your Ma. She'll see you tomorrow." Winking, he added, "Can we leave now?" Drawing himself up to his full four feet nine inches, Frankie made a great show of considering the question, head cocked to one side. "Okay." His wide smile disappeared as Lizzie bent over to kiss him. Pulling back, he made a face and waved her out the door. "Go already." She sighed as they went down the stairs to the building's front door. "I know that's normal for a kid his age, but I still hate it," she said of her son's lack of interest in maternal affection. Denny did not take the bait. Sliding an arm around her waist, he stopped her before they stepped outside. "So we might stop somewhere after the movie?" He teased her with a raised eyebrow and a glint in those stunning eyes. She knew she was turning crimson again. Why on earth had she said that upstairs? But he deserved an answer. "We might," she whispered, squirming in embarrassment. She met his eyes, her own pleading. "Could we see how things go at the movie, first?" He had leaned forward, as if to brush his lips against hers, but stopped short. He didn't want to coerce her. "Of course." He smiled gently and pulled away. Opening the door for them to go outside, he waited for her to go first. Lightly changing the subject, he said, "I'm looking forward to this one; I've wanted to see it since it came out." Things went well at the movie. Three hours later, Denny unlocked the door to the house he shared with Marie and escorted Lizzie inside. Although she knew the place from her visits to see his sister, she stood awkwardly in the small living room, wringing her hands. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped self-consciously. "I feel so foolish," she said helplessly. He looked over at her, a gentle smile curving his lips. "How so?" She sat down on Marie's sofa. "I know why you wanted me to come here with you, and that doesn't bother me, but…" "Lizzie." Denny sat down next to her and took her hands in his. "I didn't bring you here just to sleep with you. I mean, if you want to -- you know -- that would be great, but it would be fine if we just get to know each other a little better." In truth, he wanted her more than any woman he had met in a long while. But he also wanted her to choose to be with him. Taking her hands from his, she buried her face in her hands. "That's just it -- it wouldn't be great at all. I'm no good at -- at --" she took a sobbing breath. "At sex." Dumbstruck, Denny struggled to process her words as she dissolved into tears. He hesitantly reached to hug her, uncertain of her reaction. Sure enough, she sobbed harder and turned away from him. Thoroughly alarmed, he stroked her hair. She did not object, so he tried speaking to her. "Sweetheart, why would you say that?" Trying to gain control of herself, Lizzie gasped for breath several times. When she finally answered, he had to strain to her hear her small voice. "Davey always said I was such a little prude. And it's true -- I didn't like it much." A violent wave of fury swept through Denny. He regretted her husband's death because it meant he could not kill him himself. Aware of his wrath, Lizzie looked at him with wide eyes. Her expression betrayed no fear, only her own shame. His anger evaporated when he turned to her woebegone face. "Oh, lass." He tenderly wiped her damp cheeks with his thumbs. Gingerly, not wanting to alarm her, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I don't imagine you did get much pleasure from Davey. But I'm not him." Softly, he continued, "I've kissed you and held you. I know you like that." She nodded, her eyes fixed on him now. "You're not a prude." He gave her a lopsided smile. "I want you to stay, but if you want to leave, we'll go out the door this minute." She bit her bottom lip. "I'd like to stay, at least for awhile." His smile broadened. "Just say 'when'." To Lizzie's surprise, Denny first wanted to show off the small apartment he'd built on the second floor of the house. Although it shared the kitchen with Marie and Ally, his 'place' on the second floor was otherwise self-contained. Proudly, he pointed out how he had created a study and a small sitting room of his own, both decorated in a clean, masculine style with modern, comfortable furniture. "This is brilliant." She stood in the middle of his sitting room, looking at a wall of shelves full of books, cds, and pictures. "You built them yourself?" He nodded, clearly chuffed at her praise. She drifted over to examine some of the photos. Several showed a small boy with familiar dark curls and green eyes. She touched one and glanced over to him. "Is this Alex?" His good mood dissipated. She moved to where he stood in front of his audio system. "You must have thought I was like your ex-wife when you met me." He nodded again, but said softly, "I've learned otherwise. Nobody could be less like Jean than you." To end the awkward moment, he pushed a button. As a ballad poured quietly out of the speakers, he smiled down at her. "Dance?" As in his dream, she moved easily into his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder as she melted against him. He ran his hand along her back, relishing the indentation of her spine. This was real. Lizzie was dancing with him again, solid and warm. As the song ended, his other hand drifted to the back of her head. Tipping it back, he just looked down into her soft eyes. Then, slowly, he dipped down to brush his lips against hers. She responded instantly, opening her mouth against him, welcoming his searching tongue. "Are you ready to say 'when'?" His eyes teased her when he lifted his mouth from hers. "No," she whispered. He took her hand and she followed him down the hall to the door of his bedroom. "'When', Lizzie?" Under his scorching gaze, her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. A small smile played on her face as she shook her head. He opened the door. Inside, he swept her into a passionate embrace, pulling her close and kissing her deeply as their hands wandered over each other. "'When'?" He hoarsely panted the question as he rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. She threw her head back to look up at him. "No, Denny." She almost growled the words. His eyes popped open as she deliberately started to unbutton his shirt. Last Edited By: Ainaran 03/08/08 09:41:48. Edited 2 times.
Ainaran		#12	[-]
Posts: 35 (03/27/08 12:28:37) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 13 In the early hours of the following morning, Denny helped Lizzie out of his car onto the sidewalk in front of her building. He kissed her deeply and whispered, "I think we officially proved you're not a prude." She buried her head in his neck, giggling euphorically. "I know, I can't believe it!" As he cuddled her close, she inhaled his scent, relishing the feel of his arms around her. He made her feel protected and cared for in a way she had never before experienced. They stood, arms around each other for a moment more. Then she raised her head and sighed unhappily. "I know. Time to get you inside so you can get up and get to work tomorrow. It's just hard to let go of you." He deposited a fond kiss on her upturned nose and they walked to the door. Lizzie protested that he did not have to walk her all the way to her front door, but he insisted. As he escorted her up the stairway, he put a sudden hand on her arm. "I nearly forgot to ask you something." She looked up at him in surprise. "The first Sunday after New Year's, the Captain and his wife are having a reception for the Hull's crew on base," he whispered. "I would love to take you. It's usually just drinks and dinner for a few hours, so you'd be back in plenty of time for an early night." She glowed at the knowledge that he wanted her to meet his shipmates. "I'd love to!" Her low-voiced reply did not hide her enthusiasm. "That's grand, Lizzie -- we have our second date. I'll be by the shop this week to talk about times and such." He pushed a strand of dark hair away from her face as he returned her wide smile. "Meanwhile, you need to get to bed." He raised his eyebrows in mock sternness. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "I've already been to bed tonight, remember?" She entwined her arms around his neck. "And it was incredible." He rested his forehead against hers. "But you need your sleep, sweetheart." Reluctantly, they made their way to her door. A small smile curved her lips as she reached up to stroke the side of his face. In complete seriousness, she said, "Thank for tonight. For everything." He would have spoken, but she pressed a finger against his lips. After a tender goodnight kiss, she slipped inside the flat. Nell had apparently decided to wait till morning to torture her about her night out, for she had not waited up. Lizzie's euphoric mood lasted as she made her way silently through the darkened rooms and changed for bed. Like Denny, she had found their love-making amazing. Although he had not hidden his desire for her, he had treated her with utmost care. Not once had she felt inadequate or ashamed, as she had so often with Davey. She snuggled down into her pillow, blissfully reliving the hours she'd just spent in her lover's arms. Driving back to his house, Denny's mind ran along similar lines. He smiled broadly, elated, as he remembered Lizzie's response to his touch. Despite her willingness, she had been shy, even a little nervous, and he had taken care not to let his eagerness frighten her. Thinking of her sober thank-you before her door minutes before, his smile faded. He could not imagine what she must have suffered at the hands of the monster she'd married. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he made up his mind to show her the beautiful woman he saw beneath her fearful exterior. He did not realize that she had started healing his emotional scars. Even with the grief Jean was giving him over Alex, he found himself feeling happier and more contented than he had in years. Once home, he returned to his upstairs apartment and crawled into bed, savoring the scent of Lizzie's perfume on his pillow as he fell into a deep sleep. Last Edited By: Ainaran 07/21/08 21:52:11. Edited 2 times.
Ainaran		#13	[-]
Posts: 39 (07/22/08 00:14:22) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 14 Monday, her soon-to-be former boss chattered happily about the weekend she'd spent away and how well Ally's band had played. Eyeing her friend sidelong at one point, she said casually, "Denny mentioned something about you two seeing a movie Saturday." Feeling her face heat, Lizzie whirled to count the cigarette cartons stacked behind the counter. Her face hidden, she affirmed Marie's statement, going on about how much she and Denny enjoyed the film. She refused to mention the rest of their evening, not even to her good friend. For her part, Marie took one look at her assistant's crimson ears and stiff back and grinned widely. From the way her brother clammed up about their evening, together, something had happened between them. The shopkeeper murmured a series of mundane "oh reallys" and "lovelys" aloud, but inside she bubbled with delight. Denny stopped by the shop a few times during the slow parts of the day to see her before or after collecting Frankie, who was still on holiday from school. Once the two of them returned to the docks for a look round, and another time he took the boy to the natural history museum. The week flew by as she and Marie trained the girl who would replace her and she prepared for her new job. Before she knew it, Sunday afternoon arrived and she opened the door to Denny's now familiar knock. As he had the previous week, he looked her up and down appreciatively. He took her hand and twirled her around. "You look stunning." The softly spoken words warmed her more than the touch of his hand and the look on his face. "Thank you! So do you." She meant it. The severity of the dark uniform only enhanced his good looks, turning his eyes vivid green. The tan acquired during his months in a warm climate showed golden against the crisp white shirt and dark tie. It felt like she saw him for the first time, noticing the slight wave in his close-cropped hair and the cleft in the strong chin. They said good bye to Frankie and Nell. As soon as the door shut, Lizzie found herself wrapped in two strong arms while Denny kissed her. "I'm going to be the most envied man in the room tonight." He leaned his forehead against hers as he smiled down at her. She glowed with pride when he carefully took her arm. He glanced over at her on the way downstairs. By now he knew just how beautiful and sexy Lizzie was, but he had never seen in anything but jeans. Tonight she wore a simple black dress that clung to her curves and showed off her long legs. Over it, she had draped the red scarf he had given her for Christmas. The rich material accentuated her smooth skin and dark eyes. Gold earrings, necklace and brooch, gave her an air of polish and sophistication. He had no way of knowing that the dress was years old, as were her simple matching pumps, and that the jewelry was fake, except for the brooch, loaned by Nell. Nor did he recognize the elegant black evening bag as one of Marie's. He only knew how much he anticipated presenting her to his friends. Forty-five minutes later, Denny placed a reassuring arm around her waist as they stepped into the receiving line. "It'll be just like the dance hall last spring, only with fancier clothes and food." "Yeah, and then your arse fell off," muttered Lizzie in reply, glaring up as her unsympathetic lover's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. He was almost right. He greeted Captain and Mrs. Gage and introduced her to them easily, but to their surprise, the older woman continued speaking. "I trust Frankie found you in good health, Lieutenant-Commander." Before she could stop herself, Lizzie winced. "Oh dear, I was afraid he'd get into mischief. What happened?" Mrs. Gage beamed at her. "You must be Frankie's mother -- he has your eyes, doesn't he? We had the most delightful chat while we were waiting for the ship to dock. Bright as a penny! You should be very proud of him." Recognition dawned on Lizzie. "He told me a very nice woman told him how the ship docks. That must have been you." In fact Frankie had described her as "an old lady" but she had no intention of repeating that! "He's always full of questions -- thank you for taking time to answer him." As they turned away, Mrs. Gage gave Lieutenant-Commander's friend a nod of approval. "I like her, George. Seems much nicer than that appalling ex-wife of his." Captain Gage said nothing, but made a mental note to chat with Ms. Morrison sometime during the evening. His wife never had taken to the first Mrs. Cochran. Lizzie shook her head as Denny pulled out a chair for her at one of the tables. "I don't know how that boy does it." She smiled at him ruefully. "I swear I don't know where he gets that brazen streak of his." Denny looked equally bemused at the thought of Frankie inflicting his usual interrogation on the Old Man's somewhat formidable wife. "Well, she had one thing right. He is a bright lad." They chuckled together for a moment before he greeted the other crewmembers at the table. Watching him, Lizzie felt a thrill of unfamiliar pride. Davey had never cared for his co-workers, automatically blaming them for any problem he experienced, causing her untold embarrassment around them. For the same reason, they had never cared for him. But even in the slightly relaxed atmosphere of the Captain's reception, Denny commanded respect from his peers. From the praise springing to his lips as he introduced each man to her, he obviously respected them as well. Whether out of good manners or respect for him, she did not know, but they welcomed her readily. Most of the women present were wives and she discovered she had a lot in common with them. Before long, she found herself swapping stories of single parenthood with women who had the same task whenever their men left port. She and a couple of other women were laughing at the particular difficulties of raising a son on one's own when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned to discover her date standing behind her. "Glad you're having a good time, Lizzy, but I didna bring you here just to chat." His lips curved and his eyes crinkled affectionately. "Would you care to dance?" Lizzy hastily excused herself from her new-found friends. Although ashamed of the sensation, she could not help enjoying, just a little bit, the thrill she felt at the envy on the other womens' faces. After so many years as an object of pity, it made a pleasant change. Then everything but Denny faded into insignificance as his arms closed around her and she lost herself once more in his aqua-green eyes. They danced often over the evening. In between, Lizzie met more of the minesweeper's crew and their wives. However, she faltered the first time another man asked her to dance. Instinctively her eyes widened and she looked at Denny, unsure of his reaction. "Go on," he teased. "You'll make me look bad in front of my CO!" Tentatively, she took Captain Gage's hand for a polite whirl around the floor. Even while she answered his politely probing questions, she tried to surreptitiously observe her date. When he invited Mrs. Gage onto the floor, she hoped this was no more than some kind of naval ritual. "Odd, Lieutenant-Commander Cochran never struck me as the jealous type." Her face heated at the captain's words and she tried to make a joke of her actions. He tactfully let the matter drop, but she remained nervous through the rest of the song. Worse followed. Following the Captain's approval, a few other men invited her to the dance floor in between dances with Denny. Always, he encouraged her to do so, but her nerves were shredded by the evening's end. When he asked her about it in the car on the way home, her stomach knotted painfully. "I was afraid you'd be angry," she replied simply. "What on earth for?" He slid an amazed glance her direction before returning his attention to the road. "Because you danced with my friends?" Lizzie nodded, softly assenting. He drove silently, wrinkling his forehead in puzzlement, for a couple minutes. Then suddenly he swore, startling her with his vehemence. "At the hall, when you said you never danced -- it was because Davey would get jealous whenever anyone asked you." Another sideways glance caught her nod. He pulled into a deserted parking lot and twisted to face her. A light threw her delicate profile into relief against the darkness outside her window. A horrible thought struck him. "Lizzie, did he hit you when that happened?" She jerked her chin 'yes', staring straight ahead. Once again, he felt a lump rise to his throat and tears prick his eyelids, just as he had when she first revealed to him what her beast of a husband had done to Frankie. She spoke before he could find words to comfort her. "I know you're not him, I truly do." She faced him now, anguish clear even in the car's dim light. "It's just hard to forget." After gazing at him for a long moment, she slowly leaned forward until their lips met. Her mouth opened willingly to him, asking him without words to take her bad memories away. Several minutes later, they broke apart, both looking abashed at making out in a car like a pair of teenagers. Giggling when they saw the heavy fog on the inside of the car windows, they soon started laughing at the absurd situation. "I'd better get you home before the coppers come to see what we're up to." Denny chuckled and started the engine. Lizzie twined her fingers over his where they rested on the gear shift. "Thank you. For everything tonight." Last Edited By: Ainaran 07/22/08 00:20:24. Edited 1 times.
Aduien		#14	[-]
Posts: 2 (08/31/08 01:21:33) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	I should have said when I posted this, but Ainaran did write this chapter too. I posted for her since she's having 'puter problems. Chapter 15 Five days later, Lizzie collapsed into a seat on the bus home. She closed her eyes in an attempt to ease her aching head, ignoring the lurch as the vehicle moved out into traffic. After awhile, she opened her eyes to stare at the darkening streets beyond the window. Twinkling holiday lights decorating the shop through New Year's had come down. Glasgow settled into a January soberness of bill-paying and trying to stay warm. She gazed dully out until the bus lumbered to a halt at her stop. Tucking her purse firmly under her arm, she trudged toward her street. Although she tried to be home when Frankie got home from school, she had a stop to make first. A slight smile curved her lips. She had already abandoned any expectation of enjoying her new position at MacMann's Appliance and Small Engine Repair, but she reminded herself that she had survived her first week in one piece. Some time later, the jingling bell and now-familiar smell of fried fish comforted her further when she entered Marie's. "Hey, do you mind if I sit for a few minutes?" She grinned as her friend whirled from filling the shelves to face her. "Well, hello stranger!" She beamed at Lizzie. "What is all that?" The younger woman set two heavily-laden plastic bags on a nearby table. "Groceries. I wormed an advance out of the skinflint I now work for." At Marie's raised eyebrows, she grimaced and described the humiliating conversation she had endured that afternoon. Mr. MacMann had scowled up from his desk at her timid tap on the frame of his doorway. "What?" She took a deep breath. She didn't think he had so much as called her by name since she had arrived on Monday. He had introduced her around to the repairmen as "the new bookkeeper" and showed her to a paper-covered desk in a windowless cubby beside his office. It doubled as a storeroom, but at least it gave her enough privacy to work and peace. She stumbled over her request, feeling the heat in her face increasing every second. By the time she finished, she knew her cheeks had to be beet red. He gazed her at a moment before replying. "I told you when I hired you, payday is the first and sixteenth of every month." He returned to the paperwork in front of him. She squared her shoulders. "Yes, you did, and I hate asking for an advance. But I'll only need the one. I'm just a bit squeezed after the holidays, that's all." "Then you shouldn't have overspent, should you?" His round face radiated scorn. "Typical woman, throwing brass away." She gasped. New job or not, she refused to tolerate this. "You can keep your money till payday then. I've spent years squeezing pennies so hard they bleed, I can last another week. And if you ever speak to me like that again, I'll quit on the spot!" To her utter confusion, her employer leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his plump middle. "You are the feisty one, Mrs. Morrison." He spoke more politely now. "Come by before you go home and I'll see what I can do." After she finished telling Marie about it, her friend raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like a big balloon of hot air," she commented. "You stood up for yourself and he backed off in a jiff." Lizzie giggled for the first time all week. "You know, there was work from two months ago sitting on that desk when I started. He must have had a hard time getting somebody to work for him -- not that I'm surprised after the week I've had." "Well, you decided to leave me." Marie rolled her eyes at Lizzie's stricken face. "Keep your hair on, I'm joking." "I'm glad to hear it." From one of the grocery bags she pulled a bottle of wine. "Because I was wondering if you and Ally want to stop by for drinks after you close tonight." "I would even if Ally doesn't." She sighed heavily. "Mother is coming in tomorrow, I'll need to fortify myself." "Because of Alex?" Denny had already asked if she would mind not seeing him this weekend so he could have some time alone with his son. Marie nodded. Looking at the clock, Lizzie realized she needed to get home. School had dismissed some time ago and Frankie should already be there. Gathering up her bags, she bid her friend good-bye and hurried out of the shop. She arrived at the door of the building just as Frankie and Ricky came clattering down the stairs. Their expressions of guilty surprise aroused her maternal instincts. Shifting the bags on her shoulders, she regarded them suspiciously. "And just where are you two off to so close to sunset?" "The library?" Ricky unsuccessfully tried to hide his new football. Lizzie eyed the white and black sphere. "Nice try, laddie." Keeping her face straight with a struggle, she turned to her son. "Frankie, don't tell me Nana said you could go to the park when it's nearly dark." "She fell asleep watching the telly," the boy complained. "It's time for Ricky to go home now. You can help me with the groceries." The boys parted with a couple punches to the arm and promises to get together the next day. She and Frankie quietly let themselves into the flat. The boy started putting groceries away while she went over to the davenport where Nell snored softly. She tugged a crocheted afghan over the old woman. Nell snoozed while she prepared a quick dinner of chicken and carrots. Afterward, she and her mother washed and dried the dishes together. Lizzie dried the frying pan just as a knock sounded on the door. Frankie opened the door to find not only Marie and Ally on the threshold. Behind them stood Denny. He ruffled Frankie's hair and under everyone's interested eyes, kissed Lizzie. "I don't pick up Alex till tomorrow morning. When Marie called Ally, she invited me along to." His eyes twinkled. "I didn't think you'd mind." Ally chuckled beside him. "I hope you've got something besides a bit of red." Nell opened a high cupboard and pulled out a half-full bottle of single malt. Peering inside, she exclaimed in surprise and pulled out a second, unopened bottle. "Where'd this come from?" "The store, you daft old woman." Lizzie burst out laughing at her mother's comical expression, and the evening was underway. Much later, Denny pulled her into the hallway. She would her arms around his neck, expecting him to snog her. Instead, he pulled back after a quick kiss. "I was wondering if we might introduce the boys Sunday." "You want to bring Alex here?" She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, thinking of the impression her shabby flat would make on a child who lived in very nearly a mansion. "I'd love to but I can't, thanks to Jean's latest kick. Her latest whinge is that Alex doesn't get enough 'intellectual stimulation' with me." His face hardened. "That's terrible! Besides, he's only five. What does she want him to do, go to university right off?" She looked up to see him grinning down at her. "Let me guess. You have an idea." The grin widened and he told her his plan. Last Edited By: Aduien 08/31/08 19:46:39. Edited 2 times.
Ainaran		#15	[-]
Posts: 41 (08/31/08 12:42:16) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	aduien, thanks for posting Chapter 15 for me! It looks great!
Bailey	Stranger	#16	[-]
Posts: 1 (09/02/08 09:47:50) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Ooooh I love it love it love it - please keep up the great writing and whatever you do, don't make it short !!! I am just enthralled with it and want to continue my look into Denny and Lizzie's life! Hugs, Bailey (GerrysSickPuppy)
Ainaran		#17	[-]
Posts: 46 (02/21/09 20:39:17) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 16 Two days later, Frankie scowled at his ma's back as they trudged up the steps to the Museum of Transport. He had told her and told her he didn't want to spend a whole afternoon looking at stupid trains and carriages. She had just told him to "shoosh" and stop fussing. "It's important to Denny that you meet his little boy." Ma's eyes lost their normal patient expression as her hands gestured the words emphatically. In the end, that had been the argument that swayed him. But he couldn't help feeling jealous at having to share his 'good da', even with the man's own son. They followed the signs to the ship exhibits. Ma said wee Alex had developed a fascination for boats after seeing the photo of his father in front of the Hull. Frankie spotted them first, but for the first time since Denny had returned he held back, stopped by the small figure standing beside his 'da'. He stood close by his mother as she greeted both of them. Lizzie looked down at the little boy. "He looks just like you," she exclaimed. When he introduced her and Frankie, she smiled and crouched to the little fellow's level to greet him. She looked up into Denny's green eyes. "Where did those curls come from?" When he automatically touched his own dark hair, she laughed. "Your hair curls like this when you grow it out?" His sheepish nod amused her further. "They're adorable!" He drew up, affronted. "For your information, men do not have adorable curls. Do they, Frankie?" He turned to the boy for support. The lad shrugged and said nothing before drifting over to a display case. Lizzie started after him but Denny placed a light hand on her arm. "It'll be fine." She did not believe him, but he took Alex and strolled over next to Frankie. The deaf boy felt Denny's presence at his side, but continued to focus on the enormous ship model in front of him. He did not want to look at a bunch of stupid trains and ships anyway. They could have at least picked the natural history museum. Besides, Denny would have his own boy with him today. He, Frankie, would be about as welcome as a third wheel on a bicycle. He shot a glance at Ma, who looked annoyed and worried at the same time. Denny on the other hand just stood beside him, with Alex on his other side. He saw the man's lips moving and realized he was reading the display plaque aloud for the little boy. Scowling, he pulled his hearing aids out of his pocket and put them in. He hated the bloody things. He might as well have a giant sign on his back: Deaf Kid. He hoped he wouldn't have to talk to the boy. Little kids and very old adults were the worst, always pointing out he sounded funny. Hearing always seemed to intrude into the silence that made up his world. But Denny's voice sounded really weird today. Suddenly he realized that he heard Alex's voice reading the display panel, stumbling over long and new words, but carefully sounding them out as best he could. Frankie, an early reader himself, felt an unexpected jolt of liking for the five-year-old. Lizzie watched the three of them, gnawing her lip. She knew Frankie was jealous of Alex, but he would have to adjust to the boy if she and Denny continued seeing each other. But just now the boys reminded her of a pair of dogs eyeing each other over a bone. He stepped over to her, his own watchful gaze on his son. "They'll be fine." His encouraging tone sounded forced. She entwined her fingers with her lover's for a moment, relishing the pleasure she received even from that brief contact. "I hope so." Frankie did not exactly look bored, but she could tell his attention wandered. The younger boy tugged on Frankie's hand and pulled him over to another display case, holding an enormous model of a cruise ship. Pointing to the label, he slowly read it. "The Queen Mary. My daddy drives a boat." Unable to read Alex's lip, her son looked at her with something like desperation. Repressing a smile, she strolled over, with Denny close behind her, chuckling. "Be patient, he's only five," she signed, while Denny explained the difference between a boat and a ship to his son. "And you don't drive a ship," he continued with a smile. Lizzie listened in amusement as he tried to explain his duties in terms Alex would understand. Frankie tried to look nonchalant as he positioned himself so that he could read his friend's lips. The younger boy listened with grave eyes and launched into a barrage of questions. Lizzie interpreted the questions and answers for Frankie's benefit. Despite his reluctance to come on this outing, her son had questions as well, which she asked for him as they moved from one exhibit to another. Denny's eyes lit up at his son's interest, and soon stood between the boys, happily providing answers to both of them. He lifted Alex up to show him a detail on one of the models, turning so that Frankie could read his lips. "Not as bad as you thought it would be, is it?" She could not resist teasing her stubborn laddie. Frankie made a face at her. "There's nothing else to look at." However, he returned his attention to Denny before his hands finished the words. "What are you doing?" Alex had stopped interrogating his father to watch them, his head cocked to one side. "Alex, shoosh!" Denny regarded him with embarrassment. By now, they were used to the question from strangers and Lizzie explained automatically. "Since Frankie can't hear, we talk with our hands." She moved hers in a demonstration. "Some words and sentences have their own gestures, like 'what's your name'?" "Or you can spell words out." Her fingers moved again. "A, L, E, X." "That's my name!" A wide smile broke out on his face and he tried to imitate her. Frankie rapped on the display case and shook his head, frowning. Holding his hands out, he formed the letter A. Slowly he repeated each letter until the boy could do the same. Then he nodded and gave a thumbs up. The boys exchanged smiles for the first time. Frankie looked up at Denny, who touched his chin with his fingertips and then moved it away rapidly. "Thank you." Alex looked up at him in awe. "You can talk with your hands too, Daddy?" Denny's face tightened at the last word before a he grinned down at his son. "Only a little." Lizzie felt a twitch at her sleeve. "What's wrong?" Frankie regarded his friend anxiously. "I don't think he's heard his boy call him 'daddy' very often," she signed back. Frankie nodded, looking thoughtful. "Do you think if he sees more of Alex he'll forget about me?" The question startled Lizzie. "No, of course not!" Her hands flew in response, but sudden doubt entered her mind. She and Denny had only started seeing each other a short time ago; certainly she should not assume their relationship would be permanent. An odd sensation, as if the floor shifted under her feet, enveloped her at the realization that they could very well part ways in the future. She did not want to lose him, but what could a nearly broke single mother offer a man like Denny?
Ainaran		#18	[-]
Posts: 52 (06/14/09 14:44:25) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts Report Post	Chapter 17 Denny glanced into the back seat as he drove up the driveway to Jean's house. Alex had chattered happily enough after they had said good-bye to his mother at the train station. However, he had fallen silent several blocks ago. When Denny opened the rear door, his mouth quirked into a smile. As he suspected, the boy had fallen asleep after his busy day. One hand clutched a book, purchased at the museum gift shop, while the other closed around the remains of a sugar cookie. His mother and Marie had spent the afternoon baking. Miraculously, both of them had been alive when he and Alex had returned for tea. He touched his son's shoulder and spoke softly. "Alex? Time to open your eyes, laddie." After a couple more tries, the little boy opened his eyes. He whimpered sleepily, so Denny freed him from the seat belt and picked him up. "Oof, you're getting to be a great hulk of a fellow." Alex merely burrowed his head into Denny's neck. "Book." Grimacing, Denny managed not to drop his son as he snagged the volume from the back seat. They had arrived a good ten minutes before this visit was supposed to end. The light streaming out of the stately house's windows onto the drive lent it an air of false warmth. Denny stood a few moments in the early dusk of winter, cuddling his son. He wanted to memorize his boy's weight, his smell, the soft sound of his breathing. Then Jean opened the door. He sighed and entered the house. She reached for their son, but Denny waved her aside. "I still have a few more minutes. The lad's a dead weight; I can carry him up." Although he kept his tone civil, almost jovial, he could not completely eliminate the resentment from his voice. "Want Daddy to carry me." Alex's arms tightened around him. His ex-wife glared, but silently took the book he held out. Her lips thinned as she read the title. "Ships of the World? Really, Denis, if you're going to encourage the boy with this irresponsible nonsense, I'll have to limit the time he spends with you." He raised his eyebrows. "I dinna think Her Majesty's magistrates will consider an officer of the Royal Navy irresponsible. Besides, the boy picked it out himself. I was about to congratulate you on being so open-minded." Shoulders tense, she stomped up the staircase, not bothering to see if he followed. He discovered that Alex's room was bigger than his own! Shelves full of picture books reminded him unexpectedly of Frankie. A kite hung on one wall and a mobile of the solar system dangled in a corner. His son had a built in desk, a walk-in closet and his own bathroom. "As you can see, Baird doesn't begrudge spending on Alex." A smirk crossed Jean's perfectly made up face. "I suppose you're going to tell me we're spoiling the boy because he's got so many lovely things without working for them." "Not at all." But Denny wanted to say exactly that. Still, Alex had a sweet temper that might well counteract his wife's indulgence. She gestured to the football-shaped wall clock. "Right, time's up. Put him down so he can get his bath." Their bitter custody battle forced him to comply. "Good night, laddie. Did you have a good time?" "Yeah!" The word exploded out of the boy, who had gotten a second wind. "I want Daddy to tuck me in." "No, he has to leave now." His mother scowled at Denny over his head. Denny refused to allow his boy to think he wanted to go. "I'd love to stay, but it's up to your Mum." Alex turned pleading green eyes on her. "Canna Daddy tuck me in tonight? Pleeeeeeease?" Jean bit her lip but stood her ground. "Not tonight, lovey. After all, Baird always tucks you in, and he hasn't seen you all afternoon." The boy tried to argue, but she shushed him firmly. "Then I'm walking Daddy to the door." A small hand slipped into Denny's. Heart heavy, he retraced his steps, finding some comfort in the realization that somehow he had connected with his son in an intangible way this afternoon. The boy had lost much of his shyness around Denny and his family this afternoon. Jean followed, but hung back as they said their goodbyes. Alex gave him an enthusiastic hug and kiss. "Can you come back every Sunday?" His heart sank at the hope in the boy's eyes. "I will every Sunday I possibly can, but sometimes I won't be able to for weeks and weeks." To his surprise and relief, Alex nodded. "Because you have to drive the ship." Incredibly, the boy sounded proud, not angry. "I love you, Daddy." He buried his face in the boy's curls. Around the lump in his throat he whispered, "I love you too, son." With a last kiss, he stood and left, turning around in the drive to wave at the boy. Alex stood in the doorway, Jean's hands on his shoulders. Using one of the phrases taught him by the Morrisons that afternoon, he signed "I love you." With a sniffle and a chuckle, Denny signed it back and got into the car. As the engine turned over, he wished to God Lizzie had a phone. Talking to her would have soothed his aching heart. Later that evening, Jean finished mopping up the mess the boy always left after his bath. Baird's voice rumbled from Alex's room as he read to him. She sighed. He would make a far more suitable father for her son than Denny ever could be. Baird offered all the things she had craved growing up: an unlimited supply of cash and credit cards, a luxurious house and total admiration for her looks. If she had her way, Denny would be out of the picture completely. Let him sail around the world in his stupid, smelly boats. She did not like this new fondness of her son for her ex-husband, not one bit. And for once, she could not bring Baird to understand just how unsuitable it was for the boy to harbor feelings for his father -- his biological father, she reminded herself. She snorted. Men never could take a practical view of things. She supposed she would have to find a way to prevent Denny from seeing her son on her own. Last Edited By: Ainaran 06/14/09 14:54:43. Edited 11 times.

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