Fairy Tale of New Lawke (NaNoWriMo)

Chapter 4

Adaline woke to darkness, her mother's snoring weaving into the guest room. Fumbling around for her phone, Adaline's fingers brushed against a hardback book on the bedside table, knocking it onto the floor in the process. Cursing, her fingers finally contacted her mobile, allowing her to look at the time. 3am. Letting out a loud sigh, Adaline flapped her arm over her eyes, desperate to sleep once more. Her dream had been incredibly vivid, images of Elliot looming over her, bare chest sprinkled with hair, biting his lower lip and smiling.

She could almost feel his teeth grazing her collarbone, his hand firmly gripping her breast, stroking her nipple as she gasped his name. His lips had been travelling down her chest, stomach pausing momentarily at her thighs before she had woken up. She was grateful to be alone and in the pitch black, the flaming crimson of her face would surely alert anyone to the vulgarity of her subconscious. The want was strong in her lower abdomen, wetness still present between her legs. Damn it! She hadn't thought about sex since losing Christopher, couldn't imagine it being right with anyone but him - so why was her body betraying her in such away? Betraying Christopher?

Angry tears filled her eyes as she rolled onto her side. The book she had moments before knocked over lay pitifully beside her, pages open. Lazily reaching down, Adaline curled her fingers around the cover and retrieved it. Stroking its cloth skin, she smiled. Wuthering Heights, her favourite growing up. She hadn't read the novel since she her father had passed, had almost forgotten about it over recent years. Gently running a finger down a single page, she let her mind wander.

She'd been sat cross-legged atop daisies in a field watching the local boys chase a ball around the field. Elliot, with his shirt off and hair a mess, had lazily wiped the sweat off his brow with his arm before raising it above his head and chasing after a boy of the opposing team. Their laughter had floated towards her and her friend. It was a rare cool day in the middle of a summer heatwave and everyone was making the most of the breathable conditions. Smiling at Adaline, her friend had mocked the youngster for spending their free time clinging to a book as though it were a child.

"Do you read anything else?" she'd asked, playfully shoving Adaline's shoulder. Poking her tongue out, Adaline had laughed loudly. She couldn't help it. Whilst her friends had hated Bronte's classical piece, Adaline found beauty in the way the words weaved together, creating such memorable people and places for her to escape to. Carefully placing a bookmark between two pages - Adaline was certain to take the utmost care of all her books, often preferring their company to that of her peers - she slotted the book in her handbag and lay back.

"Sometimes," she said, closing her eyes. The warmth stroked her face, sent tingles through her scalp. In truth, Adaline read a lot. Her parents often urged her to 'declutter' her bookshelves that had become haphazard as of late, with new titles stacked where they would fit. She wouldn't part with any though, she'd compromise and build a new bookshelf instead. Her parents weren't too keen on the idea, but Adaline knew they'd come around. They encouraged hobbies that were good for the mind and soul.

"Ooof!" Something fairly heavy had landed on her stomach, winding her briefly.

Bolting up, the sun glaring into her eyes, young Elliot had looked down at her sheepishly. Quickly retrieving the football, he had muttered an apology, thrown the object in the general direction of the makeshift pitch and jogged away.

"What a jackass," her friend had groaned before resuming her position on her stomach head turned towards Adaline.

"Yeah, a jackass," Adaline had mused, her eyes not leaving the back of Elliot's head as he moved further into the horizon. "Hey Claire, are you going to that party this weekend? I think I might go after all."

A loud squeal answered Adaline as her friend threw a fist in the air.

Lowering the book onto her lap, Adaline wished she could take that decision back. She should never have gone to that stupid party. Should never have made it her mission to seek Elliot out and introduce herself properly. Should never have spent three hours trying to find the perfect outfit for a guy who didn't care for anyone but himself. Didn't care who got hurt while he played his games.

Now fully awake, Adaline slid her feet into her mother's spare slippers and crept downstairs. The house was still silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator, which she pulled open. The light inside momentarily blinded her, forcing her to squint as she searched for something to ease the hunger that had come about so suddenly. Grabbing all the ingredients to make a BLT, Adaline tiptoed to the counter in the centre of the room. A wooden chopping board was laid out to one side, a knife block to the right of it. Her mother would be beside herself if Adaline dared damage the granite work surface. The gentle tap of a knife against wood broke the silence as Adaline let her thoughts drift once more.

She and her brother had snuck into the kitchen after their parents were asleep frequently. Sometimes to see what food they could gorge themselves on before their father caught them and herded them back to bed. Nearer Christmas, they would sneak down and make hot chocolates, watching the snow dance in their garden, wondering what gifts they would receive.

The cold air around her now made Adaline miss her brother more than she already had. It was too early to ring him, so she wrote a note on the post-it notes her mother kept close to the fridge. A visual aid to help her awful memory, a trait her father had so graciously passed down to her. She dreaded the thought of Christmas that year, with her father gone and no knowing whether her mother would live to see the day Adaline felt very much alone.

Her brother often spent the day with his wife and their young son, Joshua. Adaline adored her nephew, worshipped the very ground he walked on. She was the first to offer to babysit, sharing hot chocolates with the smaller double of her older brother. Joshua made her feel complete in ways she hadn't known she needed. His stutter when he was excited melted Adaline's heart and his smile, with dimples on either side, could make even her worst day significantly better.

It was in that moment Adaline knew exactly what she needed to do. Pulling a notebook and pen from the junk drawer, which Adaline was convinced inhabited every person's home, she scribbled, tongue poking out as she concentrated. She was going to make this Christmas perfect for her family. Her mother would be alive and laughing, her grandson perched on her knee while wrapping paper scattered about her feet in Joshua's excitement.

They would have a large turkey roast with all the trimmings that her brother and his wife would cook. Adaline, Dottie and Joshua would sneak turkey skin when the other adults weren't looking, giggling like children, grease lubricating their fingers. They'd sing, they'd dance, they'd play board games and argue amongst themselves if someone cheated. They'd build snowmen and launch snowballs at one another, noses red and ears frozen, breath visible in front of them. And when they were done frolicking about, they'd head inside, turn themselves into burritos with thick throws and watch Christmas movies with popcorn.

It would be the perfect final Christmas for them all. Adaline just needed to convince her brother and mother that it was a good idea. She did not know how much her brother knew about their mother's condition and was cautious to step on her mother's toes, passing information she had no right to divulge. It was something she would have to discuss with her mother first, to convince her it was the right thing to do. She could play it off as being for Joshua. Her mother found it very difficult to say no to the child.

Her brother would be easier to convince if he knew their mother was dying. If he did not, Adaline would have to pull out all the stops in order to change their yearly traditions. The scratching stopped. Adaline dropped the pen and stretched her arms. She'd found her body aching more now that she was in her thirties than it ever had in her twenties. Her eyes felt heavy, but she wasn't finished. She had to plan what presents to buy, what food to prepare. She had so much to do and in such little time. Leaning her head in her hand, Adaline scribbled away again, stopping to scratch out words here and there before nodding and adding another bullet point.

The sun rose, gently smiling at Adaline's sleeping form, arm stretched out in front of her still clinging to the pen, head half hanging off the counter. Drool had collected under her chin, dripping onto her lap as she snored loudly. The ink had smudged on the paper, staining her cheek black. It was like this that Elliot found her as he readied himself to make Dottie's breakfast. He'd snickered at the sight, tiptoeing about the kitchen in the hopes he wouldn't wake her. Despite the uncomfortable sleeping situation, Adaline looked so at peace it felt cruel to stir her.

A loud crash from the living room caused the pair to jump, Adaline in a state of disillusion. She didn't notice Elliot at first. Her forehead crinkled as she took in where she was. Then her gaze lifted. He was watching her, calculating her reaction. With her wits not yet about her, Adaline screamed, falling backwards off the stool away from him.