We materialized into our usual alleyway, and went to our spot across the street from Henry's flat. We were there for about ten minutes when the shopkeeper came out of the store and address Eddie (apparently, I didn't exist).
“Can I help you with something?” He crossed his arms, burly from swinging a hammer against an anvil all day.
“We're looking for a house,” Eddie lied smoothly. “We wanted to check out the street, see if it would work for us.” I didn't know if the man would buy that excuse, much less understand what Eddie said.
To my surprise, the shopkeeper nodded. “I know a spot available. The cottage down next to Matthew's tavern.” We looked in the general direction he pointed, and pretended to see what he meant. There were no signs in front of the shops and bars, so it was a guessing game to us as to what each store was from the outside.
“Who do we talk to about it?” I asked.
Eddie had to repeat the question before the man answered. I really hated being female in this time period.
We were told to speak to Matthew, and the shopkeeper went back inside. Henry choose this time to head to work, so we followed, talking as we went.
“Renting a house here isn't a bad idea,” I admitted. I'd technically have three houses – my townhome in Dallas, Eddie's apartment in New York, and one in London. Granted, one was separated by time and space, but the concept was quite lovely. I wouldn't have to feel so tired; yes, we could see the sights, but we could sleep in a bed for a while. And 'sleep' together in the bed.. Hmmm. I'd want a new mattress, without any bedbugs or other vermin that probably infested every bed in London. I didn't want creepy-crawlies crawling around on me.
“Agreed. I didn't mean it as I said it, but the concept is growing on me. We've been lucky so far that it hasn't rained, but this is England. It'll come soon. We can watch from the house easier and more comfortable than the street. If it has a good view, that is,” he amended.
“Hey-ho!” A voice shouted in front of us. Crap – did we miss Henry getting killed?
We shoved our away through the crowd to the scene. A horse had gotten skiddish and reared, handing on an onion cart, sending onions flying onto the street. Urchins appeared out of nowhere to grab the vegetables, not above stealing in a chaotic situation like this. I spied Henry on the far side of the mess; safe and sound. I let out a sigh of relief, pointed him out to Eddie, and we made our way through the mess to resume our following.
“We need to stay closer,” Eddie leaned down to tell me, and I agreed. If this had been when Henry was killed, we wouldn't have been able to save him. We trailed him, almost right on his heels, for the rest of the journey to the theater.
When we were sure Henry was safe, we high-tailed it back to Ironmonger's Lane. The third tavern we went in was Matthew's, and a serving wench directed us to find the landlord in the back room.
Matthew took us over to the cottage next door, and had to kick the door to get it unstuck. “Tight fit,” he grunted, and threw open the shutters from the inside to let some light in.
The simple building was just that – simple. The floor was dirt, un-rushed. A chimney took center-stage on the back wall, but no cook stove existed (I wasn't even sure they were invented yet). There was no beds, chairs, or furniture. The thatched roof was thick, and no sunlight streamed through. The cottage would work to keep the rain off our heads, and give us a safe place to travel to and from.
Eddie drew several sovereigns out of his doublet to rent the house, and Matthew handed us the skeleton key for the door in return. Matthew left, and Eddie and I looked at each other.
I broke into a huge smile. “We have a house in Elizabethan England.”
“That we do, hon. That we do.” His broad smile matched mine.
I put my arms around my husband, and rested my head on his shoulder. “I really want to jump your bones right now, but I don't want to do it on dirt.”
“I can be on the bottom,” he offered. I considered, and realized that I had no idea how to clean ground in dirt from a velvet doublet. Dang reality, getting in the way of a good time.
“Let's get some more gems at home – future home – and tomorrow sell them for more money. Then we can go shopping.” My eyes gleamed at the possibility of furnishing another house.
“Think they'll deliver if we pay them enough?”
Once we returned to the present, Eddie had fun on Saturday exploring where I used to live. My family was originally from Vermont, not too far from his childhood home, in fact. My dad moved us down to Atlanta for his job when I was in junior high, and lived there ever since.
A lot of growth had occurred in Atlanta since then, I had told him as we were driving around. He thought I was just making excuses for getting lost.
“I'm so embarrassed,” I told him when I finally pulled into the high school parking lot.
“You seriously didn't remember how to get to school?” He chuckled.
“Yes!” I said defensively. “There didn't used to be a Wal-Mart there, I swear. I was used to a farm being my landmark to turn, not a shopping center.”
“Sure,” he teased, but backed off when he saw me starting to get upset. “So, where was the place to go and park?”
I blushed. “I was a geek before it was cool to be a geek. I don't know, okay? I was learning how to program while everyone else went to parties.”
“I was a band dork,” Eddie admitted, trying to make me feel better.
He saw a glint appear in my eyes. “What did you play?”
“Tenor sax. Since I sang as a tenor, I thought I was supposed to play a tenor as well.” I laughed, making him feel better. “I didn't do the parties either. It always seemed so pointless to me.”
“Yeah. I wonder what happened to the popular crowd?” I mused.
“Got a reunion coming up?” Eddie offered. “I put off going to mine each year. At first, I wanted to wait until I was successful, then I wanted to wait until I was married, and I just never went.”
“I went to my five year. It was pretty boring. It would be fun to go now and show you off though,” I smiled impishly. “Come on, take me back home. I want to show you the tree house.”
His interest piqued, he started the borrowed vehicle back up, and headed back to my parents' house.
When we got back, I took Eddie into the backyard and stood below a tree house in an old willow tree.
"Come on, let's go in," I encouraged, starting to climb the ladder rungs nailed into the trunk. Eddie grabbed me by the waist and swung me back down.
"Hold your horses. It doesn't look safe." He looked up at the rickety structure. The tree house was nestled in the branches of the willow tree, with a Y split holding up the floor. A floor which looked like it would buckle immediately under his weight. The entire structure looked like it would blow down in a strong wind.
"It's fine, it's always looked like that."
"That doesn't mean it's safe," he told me humorlessly.
"Eddie," I looked at him, my eyes pleading. "It's fine. It's private," I added, rising up on my tiptoes to kiss his nose.
"It's going to fall apart. It can't support us both. Look, the wood is rotting."
"It held five of us teens in there. It can hold the two of us."
Against his better judgment, he swept an arm towards it. "After you."
I nimbly scaled the ladder, and he watched me go appreciatively. Maybe the privacy wasn't such a bad idea after all. He followed up after me, and made sure he was standing on the sturdy branches of the tree.
"Schroeder, don't do that!" I was kicking branches and dead leaves out of the tree house with my feet, walking over the floorboards that he so doubted. I gave him an impish grin, but stopped.
"This was my space," I confided, and cozied up against a thick branch. "I'd bring a stack of library books up here, and sit on this branch just like this -- it always held me well. It's like nature's recliner." He smiled back at me, watching my close my eyes and relax, shedding stress. Maybe coming home wasn't t
hat bad of an idea after all.
"I punched my first boy here," I told him, that gleam coming back in my eyes when I opened them to look at him.
Eddie chuckled. "First? What'd he do?"
"Tried to grope me. I punched him square in the face, and he fell back and out the hole." I pointed to the opening where you climbed up through. "Broke his leg. Never touched me again, though."
Eddie climbed his way over, being sure to step only on parts of the tree. "What would you do if I groped you? Would you punch me, too?" He ran his hands over my curves, and I jumped at his touch, grabbing for other branches to hold on to. "Mmm, this could work. You're too busy to hold on to do anything." He continued to let his hands roam, and leaned down to kiss me.
He started to unbutton my jeans, but paused. "Do you still have your period?"
"No," I groaned with pleasure, thrusting my hips up against his hands. He stroked me through the coarse fabric. "I'm not fertile, either."
"Good enough for me," he said, loosening the jeans and pulling them down quickly. My fingers turned white where they were holding onto the branches.
"But Mom and Dad--" I gasped.
"When was the last time they came up here?" he said wryly. Neither was in any shape to climb a tree, ladder or no. "As long as you don't scream this time, no one will know we're here." He made sure I was ready, then kissed me as he entered me. I tensed up and made a small sound that he muffled, then I relaxed into his thrusts, meeting his hips with mine. It didn't take long for us both to come to completion, and he slumped against me, trapping me between him and the tree.
"You're squishing me," I protested, pushing at him with one hand.
"That's all the thanks I get?" He chuckled, but lifted most of his weight off of me.
"You want thanks?" I teased, and wrapped my legs around him, pulling him back down on top of me, ready to go again.
"Schroeder!" my mom called from the house. "You're going to miss your plane!"
I sighed and unlocked my legs. "We'll be right there!" Eddie winced at the yelling an inch from his ear. "Sorry, hon," I said, kissing that ear, and tugging at his earlobe with my lips.
"Umm, better not get that started."
We got our clothes in place, and dusted leaves and twigs off of each other. Eddie may have lingered dusting off some dirt on some delicious parts of my anatomy, but I didn't complain.
"Schroeder!" My dad shouted. It was definitely time to go.
"Baby, let me go first--" Eddie started to say, but I beat him to the opening.
"I'm good--ahh!" My foot missed the ladder, and he watched me tumble down to the ground.
"Schroeder!" Eddie vaulted down safely and bent over me. "Oh, God, sweetheart." I lay there, stunned, but eyes open and blinking. He ran his hands down my arms, feeling for broken bones or any blood.
"I'm okay," I finally said. "All systems check in fine." I tried to sit up, but he pressed me back down with a hand to the chest.
"I'm not done yet, you just lay still." He checked my legs, then grudgingly helped me sit up and lean against the tree trunk.
"Bloody hell, I knew going up there was a bad idea," he fumed, running his fingers through my hair looking for any bleeding or tender spots. I flinched when he hit a sore spot, and he bent in close to see the injury.
"I'm fine, we need to go."
He cupped my face with his hands, looking into my eyes closely. "Baby, you just fell out of a tree."
"It wasn't that far. And I've done it a bunch."
He frowned at me. "And you're twice as old now. Take it easy, will ya?" Satisfied that there didn't seem to be any damage, he kissed me on the forehead and assisted me to stand.
"Don't tell my parents," I said suddenly. "They'll freak out like you are."
Eddie closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. "You're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."
"I love you," I said in an apologetic tone.
"Come on kids, move it along!" Dad shouted again. A firm swat to my behind got me heading towards the car. Eddie watched me go, looking for any signs of a limp, but I didn't give him cause to see any.
During the drive to the airport, the general aches started solidifying into more concrete pains. I didn't dare say anything – Eddie would go nuts and be mad at me, my parents would make me stay, and I had to get back to work the next day. I had just taken two days off – Joseph wouldn't be happy at me missing my plane and staying an extra day. No, I'd just keep my mouth closed, and not tell anyone that my right side and head were killing me.
The tears I cried saying goodbye to my parents were tears of pain, not tears of sadness. My dad did his normal bear hug, and I was glad that my mother was already crying; it didn't make me look bad for crying. I held onto my father for a minute longer than I would have normally, happy to let him think I would miss him.
Mom's hug was less vigorous, but painful nonetheless. I kissed them goodbye, and Eddie shook hands one last time, and they entered the airport.
“I thought you hated being here? Why are you crying?”
“I did hate it. It just hurt when they hugged,” I admitted.
Eddie steered me to the nearest row of chairs and sat me down, dropping their bags. He stroked my face, wiping the tears away. “Where? Your head?” He probed the lump gently.
“No, my right side.” I saw his jaw clench.
He started tugging my shirt up, and I immediately stopped him. “Eddie! No, we're in public.” I swear, that was my new mantra.
“Is it below your bra line?” I nodded grudgingly, and he cautiously lifted the t-shirt, careful not to show anything. He hissed when he saw the bruises that were beginning to form. “Is it a sharp pain? Does it hurt when you breathe in?”
I took a couple normal breaths, and then a few deep ones. “Hurts more on the deep breaths, and when they squeezed me in the hug. More so Dad than Mom. I'll be fine.”
“Baby, I don't know,” Eddie let down the shirt and sat next to me.
“I don't want to stay here,” I plead. “I want to go home. The flight is only two hours.” He didn't say anything, but rubbed his head with his hand. “If it still hurts tomorrow, I'll make a doctor's appointment, how about that?”
“All right. Do you have any tylenol? Do you want me to get some from the store here?”
_No, because my head hurts, and I think I might have a concussion, and I don't think you're supposed to take any painkillers with a concussion?_ Instead of saying my thoughts, I simply said I'd be fine.
Eddie gathered up our bags, and carried them himself. He refused to let me carry any, even when I offered.
By the time we took our seats in first class again, my head had moved from an ache to pounding. I should have taken him up on the aspirin; I felt rather nauseous from the pain. I didn't realize how nauseous I felt until the plane took off and I was fumbling for the airsickness bag.
“Schroeder?” Eddie asked, worry evident in his voice as I closed the bag and leaned back in my chair, trying to take deep breaths.
“I'm fine.” I let him take the bag from my shaky hands, and heard him pass it off to a stewardess.
The plane lurched as it leveled off, and I sat forward in a hurry and found the bag in front of Eddie.
“Better bring more,” I croaked to the flight attendant when she came by.
“Bring some ginger ale too, please, if you have any,” Eddie told the attendant. The stewardess returned a few minutes later with a small stack of airsickness bags, a drink, and some wet towels.
“We pass them out hot in first class after meals,” the stewardess explained, “but I thought she might like some cool ones.” Eddie thanked the woman for me while I was fighting back the tears. He put an arm around my shoulders, bringing me in to lean on his, and kissed the top of my head.
“Try some ginger ale, okay? It'll help settle your stomach.”
My stomach is not my problem, I thought, but sipped at the beverage anyway. I drank about half of it before being done, and
reclined the chair back to be more comfortable, trying to fall asleep and let time pass by quicker.
Turbulence woke me and left me scrambling for another bag. Eddie rubbed circles on my back while I was hunched over.
“Don't, that's making it worse,” I sobbed, and his hand immediately stilled. After the bout of retching was done, I used every available square inch of my seat to curl up into a ball, my head on Eddie's lap. Thank God for the extra room in first class. This wouldn't have been possible in coach. Eddie tried a couple different places for his right hand before resting it on my neck, fingers caressing my cheek every so often. The stewardess brought over a blanket, and helped Eddie spread it out on top of me.
“Honey, lift your head,” he said softly, sliding an airplane pillow beneath it when I did so. He rested his hand back where it was, still wiping tears away.
“I feel like shit,” I moaned.
He couldn't help but chuckle at my phrasing. “I know, sweetheart, I know. It's not too much farther.”
I fell back asleep, and was able to sleep the rest of the flight.
I barely remembered making it off of the airplane and to the car. I did remember walking past the car, and Eddie having to call me back from where he stopped to put the bags in the trunk. I waited patiently for him to shut it, then unlock my door.
I sank into the car seat, immediately reclining it back after putting on my seatbelt. I must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing I knew Eddie was unbuckling my seatbelt and picking me up.
“Shh, I got you,” he whispered, and I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. He took me inside and laid me down, and I relaxed on the bed until I heard voices over me.
“What seems to be the problem?” A strange voice said, and my eyes flew open. A man with a kindly face in maroon scrubs smiled down at me. I was in the hospital?
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