Top of the World (War romance story)

Chapter Four (Part Two)

Okay, so this is where things start to get interesting. Last part, I left off at kind of an awkward, abrupt part, and I'm hoping I'll clear up some confusion, if there is any, in this chapter, and develop more of the storyline. So...enjoy!

Thanks for reading!

Comment and vote. ♥

- - -

All curled up in a ball, with my face pressed against the soft feather-down pillow, I was in a still, peaceful daze. I had already awoken earlier, saw that it was still dark outside, and went back to sleep. Now, I laid there, hoping the peace would last.

To my dismay, moments later, there was a knock at the door. I recognized it; two subtle, soft knocks against the finished oak door, in a rhythmic way, and I knew it was Dottie, our maid.

"Abigail, dear, may I come in? Is everything alright?"

I sat upright, propping myself up against my pillows. I yawned and stretched my arms towards the ceiling. "Come in." I groaned, feeling the weight of sleep shake off me. Dottie scurried inside and closed the door behind her, and bent down to pick my clothes from last night off the floor.

"Your parents would like you down for breakfast in five minutes. Hurry up and freshen up, dear." I took her orders and threw the covers off my body and placed my feet firmly on the floor. I felt the blood rush to my head, and felt woozy for a split second. Suddenly, all the memories of last night came flooding back, accompanied by a slight bit of guilt and confusion.

"Did you have a good time last night?" She asked, handing me my robe. I put it on my body and tied the sash around my waist, and let out another yawn. "I did, yes." I said with a smile. She returned the gesture. "Good. I'm so happy to hear that. I can't wait to hear all the details. Hurry up now, dear, you know your parents hate to wait."

I looked in the mirror and began toying around with my muffled curls. I swept them back with pins, and deemed myself presentable enough. Dottie ushered me out the door, and followed closely behind as I trotted down the stairs, down the main foyer, and into the spacious dining room.

Every meal at our home was some big ordeal. There was always the whole presentation. Fine china, glass pitchers filled with tea, and utensils that weren't even used clustered around the plate presented before us. I thought it was all unnecessary, and all a big, flashy show, as if you must show off your wealth in all aspects of the daily routine.

I took my usual spot, and gave my parents each a smile before reaching forward to grab the pitcher and fill my glass with cold iced tea. I glanced to my right, and noticed my father practically on edge, as if he were waiting for me to spill the beans. "So...?" He edged.

"So?" I played along, fighting a growing grin with a failed attempt.

"Don't leave us hanging, now! How was last night?" I chuckled.

"It was quite fun, actually," I admitted, "I had a lot more fun than I expected."

"Good!" He replied back, jubilantly. "So, what did you do? Did you see any old friends?" He asked. I reached towards the center of the table and grabbed a biscuit, and began buttering it as I replied.

"I danced, of course." I retorted, half-sarcastically, but joking all the while. "I saw quite a few of my old friends. But I didn't really spend much time with them." I said, lowering my voice midway through the sentence.

Both my parents passed a glance at one another, then focused in on me. "What does that mean?" My mother inquired, leaning forward.

"I, well, I...I might have met somebody there." I stammered. I refused to look upward to face their burning gazes. I kept my eyes forward, tending to my breakfast. From the corner of my eye, however, I saw my father sit backwards, looking dumbfounded.