by Various
If her bed could speak, Elsie imagined it was calling her, taunting her with soothing words of “I’m waiting. I’m so soft. Your heavy quilts want nothing else from life but to wrap you in warmth. Your feather pillows are yearning for you to lay your head on them and drift to sleep.”
I’m losing my mind. My bed is talking to me, and I’m thinking about marrying a man I hardly know. I need help.
“Daphne, maybe we should let Elsie get some sleep. She looks baffed.”
“I’m so sorry! You should have told me ages ago to shut it. I’m pretty beat myself. Could use a good sleep. I can guarantee you lot won’t see much of me early tomorrow. I’m not a morning person on the best of days.”
As they were saying their goodnights, Cam pulled her aside. “Is it presumptuous of me to ask if you want company?”
“Presumptuous, no. But I should warn you the only thing you’ll receive if you come with me is a repeat performance of last night’s snooze-fest.”
“That’s fine with me,” he said. “That way we’ll be ever so fresh and awake for what delights the morning might bring.”
Elsie wasn’t sure how she felt about Cam coming with her. Waking in his arms was amazing, and the heat he threw out was a dream. But she was worried she might become used to it. And when he was gone, would she find it impossible to ever find comfort in her bed again? Still, it was plain stupidity to pass up the opportunity to have him beside her as long as possible. After all, if she was ever going to get a handle on how she felt about him, it made sense to keep him around as much as possible. It was pretty damn hard to get to know him if she was tucked away on the third floor, and he was all the way down in his cottage.
Still, when they reached her room, a sense of awkwardness came over her. Last night she didn’t have a chance to over think sharing a bed with him. She’d simply crashed from exhaustion. It was different this time. Her nightly bedtime routine was a private thing. She couldn’t lather on face cream, or scrub her feet with a pumice stone if he was there. And what was she going to wear to bed? Why had she thought this was a good idea?
He, on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble with it. She could hear the water running in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth with a spare toothbrush she’d found for him Saturday morning.
She frantically searched through the bag of lingerie they’d bought on Saturday to see if there was something suitable. The problem was she’d bought all of that with the intention of it swiftly coming off shortly after putting it on.
The hell with it. He’s seen me in ugly pjs. And he’s seen me in these. And who am I kidding. I want him to rip it off of me come morning.
She pulled out a ginger coloured sheer gown adorned with brown lace and took a moment to enjoy the sensation of it sliding down her skin. There was nothing like the feel of satin-soft sheerness cascading over your back and hips. Elsie enjoyed little luxuries, and she appreciated how lingerie made her feel feminine.
Just putting on the gown made most of her worries disappear. She wasn’t conceited but Cam would have to have rocks in his head, or in his pants, to not appreciate the sight of her getting ready for bed dressed in this. She sat in the centre of the bed, her legs curled, and brushed her hair, her back to the bathroom door. She peeked in the mirror to ensure Cam saw her at her best.
Her heart quickened as she heard the door open. She strained her ears, hoping to hear him move, but there was silence. It lingered until she could take no more.
She turned her head toward him. “Are you coming to bed?”
“I would if I could move,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
His words thrilled her.
Slowly, she lay back on the bed, and then turned to face him, propping her head up with her hand.
“What’s stopping you?”
A sense of sensuality that she’d never before allowed to take over, washed over her. She arched her back slightly, knowing full well it caused her breasts to appear fuller.
“I thought sleeping was on the agenda.”
“If that’s what you’d like. There’s no need to rush anything, is there? I’ll still be here in the morning.” And every morning for the rest of my life, if you’d like to stick around for it.
Elsie wondered why it was so easy to think her feelings, but impossible to say them out loud?
She pulled down the quilt and got under the covers. Patting the empty spot in the bed next to her, she offered him a challenge.
“Let’s see if you can make it till morning.”
“And if I do?”
“You win.”
“And if I don’t?
“You still win,” she said, laughing at her boldness, and the absurd happiness she felt at knowing she could be herself, finally saying and acting in ways she’d only ever fantasized about. And the only reason she could come up with why she felt so free was that she trusted Cam. With her heart. And with her love. Now she just had to tell him, and hope he didn’t run for the nearest plane.
——
She was disappointed to wake alone, and still dressed. It was early. Around six. And there was no sign of Cam. The bathroom door was open, so he wasn’t there. And the spot in the bed where he should have been was cold. Don’t cry. He’s not worth it.
It was better she find out now that he’d lost interest than before she’d had a chance to bare her heart to him. She sat up and took a deep breath. She would not cry. She wasn’t the crying type. The problem was, she was already crying. She felt the tears slide down her face. In an effort to stop herself she flopped backwards onto her pillow, causing the headboard to shake against the wall.
“Don’t get out of bed!”
Cam? She wiped her eyes. Sweet Jesus, he was still here. She wiped them again. What was wrong with her? She was crying more. He was still here, and she was crying harder. She had to make it stop.
Now her other senses were kicking in and she could smell toast, and coffee, and eggs. He was cooking. In her fear that he’d left, she’d missed the signs that he was still here. His bag was lying on the floor, his pants were on the chair, and there was no mistaking the scent of breakfast coming from the other room.
She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Why wouldn’t her eyes stop making tears? It was ridiculous.
“Elsie, I said stay in bed,” he said, coming into the bedroom. She reached to close the bathroom door before he could see her.
“Hey,” he said, coming closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Don’t look at me.” Oh my God. Is that my voice? Was she wailing? Get a grip, woman.
“Elsie, what happened? Did you hurt yourself? I heard a bang.”
She shook her head. “Just go away. I’ll be fine in a minute. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
She had to close the door. It was bad enough that she was having some sort of breakdown. But he couldn’t see it.
“You don’t know why you’re crying?”
“No. Yes. Cam, I’m a mess. Just go make breakfast and give me a minute.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid. I’m not going to tell you.”
Miraculously the tears had stopped, and her voice was coming back to normal.
He pulled a tissue from the box and handed it to her. “Blow.”
She did, and was appalled at the noise. Was she getting ready to start her period? Was this why she’d turned into such a freak? Part of her was relieved. She still couldn’t believe they hadn’t used a condom when they’d been in the washroom. Talk about the heat of the moment. Bathroom sex! Who would have thought she was capable of such a reckless act?
“Come on, beautiful.” He took her hand and led her back to bed. “I’ll be right back with some food alright, and we can talk about it.”
“I’m not going to talk about it,” she said, getting back into bed.
“Oh, we’ll see.”
——
If there was one way to drive Campbell Scott from a room,
crying was it. He just didn’t know how to deal with it. His family were all pretty stoic people, with the exception of Daphne, who had gotten all the emotions of the entire Scott clan.
As he piled breakfast onto a tray, he tried to figure out why Elsie was crying. She didn’t strike him as the type of woman who cried for no reason, although he had witnessed first-hand how he seemed to bring her emotions, normally anger and exasperation, to the surface. Had he done something to make her cry? He didn’t think so. So it must be something else. The really shocking thing for him was that a) he cared, and b) he wanted to make sure whatever it was that upset her was taken care of.
He and Daphne had had a long chat the previous evening about his feelings for Elsie. He’d stopped short of admitting that he was falling in love, but Daphne was perceptive enough to figure it out, and smart enough not to linger on it. She just moved from the declaration of love stage (he’d have to figure that out on his own), to the ensuring they ended up together for eternity. He was a little worried by her thinking she had a role to play in that, but knew better than to bait her.
Right now his biggest concern was that there was something bothering Elsie. And he needed to figure it out.
“Now, I hope you’re hungry, because I think I cooked too much food,” he said, coming into the room. “I’d just planned on making sure you had plenty of energy for whatever the morning might bring,” he winked, “but I think I went a little overboard.”
At least she wasn’t crying any more. And her eyes were no longer red. If anything, she looked adorable. Sleepy even.
“I don’t know how hungry I am,” she said. And then she hiccuped. She covered her mouth with a look of shock. And hiccuped again. And again. And again.
“Oh.” hiccup. “No.” hiccup. “I hardly ever” hiccup “get the hic” hiccup “hiccups.” hiccup. “But when I do they last” hiccup “a long” hiccup “time.” hiccup. She moaned, and lay back on her pillow, cute little hics popping out of her the whole time.
“Try eating, that might help.”
But it didn’t. Instead she nearly choked on a piece of scrambled egg.
“Drink,” he said, passing her a glass of juice. No luck.
“I know the trick.” And he kissed her. But she just hiccuped more.
Breakfast was getting cold, and she couldn’t eat. He munched on bacon while googling cures for hiccups.
“This says to try drinking with your head turned upside down so it’s pointing towards the floor.”
It was amusing to watch from his perspective, especially since she was a sight to behold in that sexy nightgown. But it didn’t work.
“Here’s a website,” he said. “The Ultimate Guide to Curing Hiccups. It has over a thousand known remedies.”
“A thousand? hic I could try them all hic and it would make no hic diff—hic—erence.”
Still they tried a few. Cam particularly liked one that encouraged her to meow like a cat as she hiccuped. That just caused her to laugh. And hiccup harder.
After forty-five minutes it had gone from cute, to funny, and back to cute. But now it was just irritating. And if it was driving him mad, he could only imagine how she felt. There was only one thing left to try, but it wasn’t the ideal way to do it. It certainly wasn’t what he’d envisioned. But she was in misery. And he was miserable watching her, unable to help.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He rubbed her back, trying to ease the ache she’d told him about. Apparently her hiccups were painful. Who knew?
He kissed the top of her head. “It’s going to be alright. They’ll go away. You just need to think about something else.”
“I’m trying!” hic.
“Shhh. I know. Don’t talk. Just listen. Listen to my voice and my words and try and forget about it. Now close your eyes.”
He waited.
“Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
He pulled away from her to check. They were open. He touched her nose with his finger. “Close them. This is only going to work if you pay attention to everything I say.”
Her long eyelashes touched the tip of her cheeks as she closed them. He kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”
He pulled her close again and resumed rubbing her back. The fabric of her gown was like melted butter, and his hand slid over her body with ease.
“Now, the important thing to keep in mind here is that I’m not making any of this up just to make you feel better. Hiccup if you believe me.”
A small laugh was punctuated with a cute little hic.
“Now let your imagination flow. It’s fifty years from now and there’s a beautiful woman sitting on a chair overlooking the ocean. She has long flowing hair, that’s turned white with age. Can you see her?”
Elsie nodded.
“Good. On her lap is a little girl, maybe she’s six, maybe she’s ten. It’s hard to tell because she’s a petite little thing, just like her granny. The little girl has black hair and grey blue eyes.”
Cam had his eyes closed as well, trying to picture the scene. It was far easier this way. Although he wondered how Elsie could hear him, over the steady thumping of his heart. His chest felt full. Still, he continued with his tale. Elsie was still hiccuping, but they weren’t coming as quickly. That was a good sign.
“So the little girl looks at her granny, and asks, ‘Do you love grandpa?’ And the old woman doesn’t say anything. She just looks towards a cottage where there’s an old man, teaching a little boy to draw a robin.”
He felt her body tense. Should he continue or stop now before he would live to regret it. His pause must have been noticeable because Elsie tightened the hold she had around his waist. And hiccuped.
“The woman finally nods and the little girl says, ‘Tell me a story about the first time he told you he loved you.’
‘Well, she says to the child. I had the hiccups one morning and nothing worked to cure them.”
Elsie pulled away and looked up at him. “Cam?”
He had to say the words. He knew he did. But they were stuck. He closed his eyes. Why was it easier with his eyes closed?
“Campbell. Look at me,” she demanded.
He opened them again.
“Do you know why I was crying this morning?”
He wanted to know but somehow he’d lost the power to speak.
“I woke up and you weren’t there. And I thought you’d left me.” She ran a hand down his stubbly cheek. “I thought you had come to your senses, and decided that you had somewhere better to be than next to me. And I was terrified. Terrified that I’d lost you when I’d just come to realize that I was falling in love with you.”
“You…” Relief and joy and trepidation all coursed through his body at once.
“Yes. I know it’s crazy. We hardly know each other at all. But I do. I love you. It’s the only thing that makes sense for how I feel. All these emotions boiling over, and a general feeling of insanity. That must be love, right?”
He’d heard enough. He rolled her onto her back, sending the tray of food and coffee flying off the bed and onto the floor with a crash. He didn’t care, and she didn’t seem to have noticed.
Slowly he grazed his lips across hers. “I love you too, Elsie.”
“I know,” she said. “You cured my hiccups.”
THIRTEEN
It appeared the people of Heart’s Ease were more excited about birds than he’d realized. Cam had expected maybe a handful of people to show up. He’d set his easel in the library, thinking it would be sufficient for a cozy, fireside chat about birds. Instead, Elsie and her mother were expanding the dining room, sliding back the walls that separated the formal dining space from the more comfortable dining room they used for breakfast and lunch.
“Hope you’re not prone to stage fright,” Ida said, handing him a cup of coffee. “Although, we’re not a bad lot. I’d dare say you’ll only be corrected six or seven times.” She cackled and patted him on the arm.
�
�Where did all these people come from? I didn’t think there were this many people living in Heart’s Ease.”
“That’s because you haven’t really been paying attention to anything other than my niece,” she said. “But there’s a whole community full of people not in this house, and they love any chance they can get to come up here and have a gawk around. No offence, my dear, but you could be talking about bugs, or driftwood, or toast and they’d come out in droves. ‘Course it doesn’t hurt that there’s all kinds of talk about you and Elsie. They want to catch a glimpse of you to see what that’s all about too.”
Small towns, it seemed, were the same regardless of what side of the Atlantic you were on.
Several residents made their way over to introduce themselves to Cam. They were a chatty crowd, and wanted to know all about him. Where he was from. Had he heard of Newfoundland before. Did he like it here. What did he think about the weather. What did he think about the inn. What did he think about the Walsh family. Did he know that they had never known for Elsie to have a boyfriend. In fact, some folks thought she might prefer ladies, but then again, she didn’t have any girlfriends to speak of either. And did he think Elsie worked too much?
A lot of the questions were more statements, and they didn’t really seem to care if he answered them. He quickly discovered that they preferred it if he just nodded or spoke as little as possible. The only saving grace was that Ida didn’t leave his side, and managed to steer most of the awkward questions, namely those about Elsie, on to another topic.
He thought about what it must be like for Elsie, living in a place that for all intents and purposes was a throw-back to a lost time. Sure, there were modern conveniences all around, and the people were as in tune with what was happening in the world as anyone else thanks to TV and the net, but if you looked past those glaring reminders that you were in the twenty-first century, you could also be forgiven for thinking you had travelled back in time.