Elizabet2

Elizabet2, Pride and Prejudice Fanfiction

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Elizabeth's SearchBy Barbara K

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Posted on Thursday, 6 September 2001

She looked around the room and sighed with despair. Books were piled from floor to ceiling, newspapers covered most of the empty floor that could be seen. "Grandpa really was a pack rat wasn't he?", Liz thought as she surveyed the tornado-stricken room.

Since the death of her grandfather two weeks before, Elizabeth Bennett had been putting off cleaning up his house for as long as was possible. An orphan after her parent's lives were claimed in a car accident during her senior year of high school, she had lived with her grandfather until his death. They had provided much needed love and company for the other during those lonely years. The burden of supporting the two of them fell onto Liz, and she had felt that pressure. Having to leave the museum job that she loved to work as teacher's assistant when she had only six credits left till graduation was hard.

Life had little pleasure left for Liz since she felt that she was provider, protector, and companion to her grandfather. Her semi-full bank account had dwindled to cover medical bills, a home nurse, and the payments on the house. In the past five years she had also become a rather nervous person. Trying to keep her grandfather health and happy was starting to put a strain on Elizabeth's personality. Although she had she had loved her grandfather very much, it was almost a blessing that he had died before showing symptoms of any of a number of diseases that would have him in full time care.

She waded to the far end of the room and started to search for recyclable or sellable items. Several days later the house was ready to be put on the market. Liz tried valiantly to hold back tears as the memories packed into the two story, white shingled, antique house flooded over her. She walked into the elementary school to turn in her resume and left feeling much lighter. "Well, now I have no job, no ties, and I am free to do whatever I want." Then why don't I feel in control of my life?

The trip to the bank was nerve-racking Liz kept thinking that at any moment someone in the line would start pointing at her and shrieking, "Look at all that money! Is she robbing someone's account?" But when Liz entered the small gray, one story, building she noticed the line was full of elderly ladies cashing their Social Security paychecks. Amongst the sea of house-dresses and blue hair, Liz was at least comfortable, if not inconspicuous.

The line slowly wound its way to the counter. The cashier looked up from her computer where she had just been furiously typing, "May I help you?" Relieved to see a kind-looking face, Liz passed over her credit book and a blue withdrawal slip, trying to hide her trembling hands. The cashier glanced up with wide brown eyes and asked if Ms. Bennett wanted the whole amount to be withdrawn. Liz thought worriedly, "Well those are the correct numbers, right? I ..." But the lady interpreted her by saying, "Are you going on a trip?" Liz didn't have a chance to answer because then the computer spit out the receipt as well as a form for her to sign. As the cashier started to count her money Liz reflected that $6,000 wasn't going to go very far so thinking that it would be better to spend her savings where they would be worth more she started her car and drove to the airport.

Metro Detroit airport was not the best place to steady one's nerves. Traffic was frightful and slow moving. People were hurriedly talking, walking, and trying to pass through security or customs as quickly as possible. Liz, looking for an modicum of stillness, entered into the coffee shop and looked around. "Ahhhhh, the wonderful smell of coffee...even if I don't like it, at least the smell is comforting." She smiled to herself. Liz decided to sit on one of the comfy plush armchairs and decided to buy a hot chocolate and wait for inspiration to strike. The creamy mocha flavored concoction slid down her throat with surprising ease.

While relaxing in the cozy corner of the store Liz heard the most delightful voice. A man, someone else was addressing as George, was discussing his bank debts and which horse had been unlucky that week. "That damned mare lost me three hundred dollars, now how am I going to get that back? I'd like to know what Lydia is going to say, that was our car payment..."

Allowing the voice to fall into the background babble of the busy airport Liz allowed the tone of the voice to float around in her head. "Hmmmm, I wonder if that is the place that I should visit? Even the name sounds like an escape." Full of decision Liz sat up in her chair, determinedly finished her drink, picked up her luggage and went to the ticket counter.

Chapter 2: A Journey

As she waited in line frequently switching her luggage from hand to hand she started to wonder about the intelligence of her decision. A lover of traveling, when her parents were alive she'd seen more than forty of the continental states, and adventure called to her. "But is running away really the answer to my problems?" Liz mused over this thought as she slowly crept closer to the counter.

"Pro's of leaving on this trip: change of focus; a temporary (possibly permanent?) escape; time for her Self to recuperate after many years of hibernation; also connecting with the Goddess again after eons of forgetfulness. Con's of leaving: Leaving her family home; leaving a great career with children that she loved; her car, a great asset, was still setting in the parking lot she could get in it and go back to her normal life...

"No! I won't do that, I think that I'll call Jen (A school coworker who had been devastated to see Liz leave. Her one and only friend) and have her sell it and retain the money for me." Now realizing that she had been mumbling out loud Liz closed her mouth with a snap and realized she had made her way to the front of the line.

"Miss? Miss? This counter is open, do you want a ticket?"

"Do I really want a ticket? Um, why yes please. "One way to", she furtively glanced up at the closest destination, "Dublin."

Once all the luggage was checked and the ticket handed over Liz felt that the whole situation was out of her hands. She proceeded to the bar to steady her nerves before the flight left.

Chapter 3: 'Three Drunken Maidens' (O.K. Only One!)

Posted on Monday, 24 September 2001

Downing the third of her 'Bailey's Irish Cream' over ice, 'Like Mother's milk' Liz thought to herself, she started to feel much less frightened about flying. She wasn't 'necessarily' afraid of flying, she certainly wasn't scared of heights, but she more felt fear at being so close to facing her own mortality.

Feeling a bit less frightened, due to the lovely effects of liquid amnesia, she heard her plane's boarding call echo amongst the high ceiling of the airport. Loading her backpack on her shoulder and trying to pick up her bag, she found that for some odd reason she just couldn't get a hold of the straps. They seemed to be floating just out of her grasp, like seaweed in low tide. "Damn, bag...hold still." Finally she made a lucky grab and snagged a loop with her hand. Lurching to the line and getting on board Liz collapsed relatively quietly into her seat. Grateful that the flight didn't seem to be too crowded Liz fastened her seat-belt, rested her head back on the seat, and lapsed into unconsciousness.

She was having a dream in which the ship she was sailing on just kept bouncing back and forth, if only it would keep an even keel she wouldn't feel that her stomach was going to fall out her feet. Waking up to the sudden glare and tossing motion of the plane was, suffice to say, very disconcerting to Liz.

Another toss of the plane, made Liz wish instantly for the bathroom. Trying to keep her stomach in its rightful place was difficult, trying to undo her seat belt was even worse. In the confined cabin she was trying to keep her struggles relatively quiet and unobtrusive.

"I may not be able to see straight but I'll be damned if I make a show of myself."

As she was struggling in vain with the buckle, ever closer to just giving up and vomiting all over the plane, a strong male hand reached over and released the catch. "Thanks...", Liz gurgled as she flung herself across the seats and practically ran to the bathroom. Nearly intercepted by a dinner cart, Liz was able to make it just in time.

Shaky and rather worse for the wear, Liz stumbled out of the tiny toilet. Her lack of balance didn't keep her from slamming into the wall on the opposite side of the facilities. Clutching the fuzzy fabric wall, "100% unknown fibers" TM, Liz willed both her stomach and her head back into their somewhat rightful places within her normal universe. Grateful that the back of the plane contained maybe a few dozen sleeping passengers, she clung to the itchy wall. All she wanted were two aspirin and a lot of sleep, but knowing that she wasn't going to get those on a bouncy flight, she dragged herself back to her seat.

Noticing that the flight wasn't particularly crowded made it odd that the only person in her general vicinity was a man, and not just any man, no sir. It was the man that someone had spoken to in the bar, hmmm.... Greg, Gordon, Geoff, no, wait it was George. Quite pleased with herself, for remembering names was never a strong point for Liz, she then remembered that George was also a name of the third George of England. The crazy king, 'I hope that this George isn't nuts.' Liz muttered to herself as she stood in the aisle.

"Excuse me." Liz said, "I would like to return to my seat now." The young man looked up from the newspaper he was reading (the racing section, Liz noted), smiled up at her, and said, "Why I never refuse a request from a pretty lady." (Oh, Mother...Why do I always get them?!)

Only five feet tall with very independent brown hair, boring brown eyes, and a curvy figure, Liz had never felt herself particularly beautiful. She had always been a tomboy and had never dated much, so when boys started to be interested in her it was confusing. Then when she had become interested in boys she had had no time, or energy, to invest in dating. She still felt very uncomfortable when men found her attractive, even though she liked the attention.

Gritting her teeth, Liz slid into her seat and waited for dinner to come by, completely ignoring (for the moment) all of George's attempts to start a conversation.

Chapter 3, Continued

Posted on Tuesday, 16 October 2001

The flight attendant came by and offered them dinner. Liz asked for the stew while George asked for Heineken. The stew smelled terrific, for the first time in several hours Liz was able to think about food without feeling ill. In confirmation of this fact her stomach let out a loud rumble. George looked over at her and smirked, but thankfully didn't say a word. He was too busy hurtling down his beer to save a breath for speech.

Liz loved little containers she found them fun. So it was with great joy that she opened her water cup, and put it into her empty plastic cup. She stowed all the condiments, cheese and crackers, salt, pepper, a wet-one, and a napkin in her bag. "You never know when those might come in handy.", she thought to herself.

Then with glee she pulled off the aluminum foil that covered the stew and hoped there wasn't any turbulence. The steam rose up and covered her face with its veil and she dug in the food with her plastic spork. Dark brown gravy covered bite-sized portions of lamb and on the side were mashed potatoes. She sighed in contentment, grateful that she could enjoy such delicious food without feeling the slightest bit sick. She couldn't wait to eat delicious cheesecake next. The salad would be last because of the scary half egg that covered a portion of the packaged veggies.

"Yumm...does that taste as good as it looks?", burped George.

"Yesh..." Liz said around a mouthful of stew, desperate to block him out. She turned her vision to the screen at the row in front of her watching the re-runs (Yes, folks even on planes too) of Fraiser.

"If you like that stew you know you're welcome to come home with me and try some of mine." George said this almost slyly and peeked at Liz from the corner of his eyes. Taking another swig he turned towards her and waited for a reply.

Liz felt as if her heart was going to beat out of her chest. There it was, the horrible proposition that she had been dreading all flight. Slowly she let the last bite of lamb work its way down her throat before letting her brain digest the information.

A few times as a college student she had prostituted herself for money. She hadn't started out by including sex in the bargain, at first it had been someone who needed a date to a party or a business function. They were friends of a friend. They would pay for her dinner and a drink or two, use her wit and charm to make themselves look good, and then take her home. No hanky-panky of any kind. Until she went to the wedding...

She had been dating a co-worker for about a half-year and they had been pretty serious, or at least he felt so, to her it was a fun way to explore adult relationships and get to do a lot of things with a partner. Liz felt part of the secret society she had always seen from the outside but had never been allowed (at least in her own mind) in.

One night after a great party she had allowed herself to be swept up in the moment and had nearly-almost-sex. When she said she wanted to stop the man was kind enough to oblige and shortly after that she broke up the relationship. On her return to work she kept hearing sly comments about her 'teasing' behavior to him. Some of her co-workers were genuinely concerned for Liz and just wanted to know if everything was o.k. She just smiled and said that this decision was better for everyone, but inside she was seething at herself. Was she so messed up that she couldn't even handle an adult relationship (which she knew would most likely contain sexual behavior)? She hated her reaction and wished that she had been promiscuous in high school so that sex wouldn't be so much of a distraction to her. Then she made a decision.

"If I'm so scared of it I should just do and get this over with and then I won't have to worry about it!" Liz commanded herself. So being terribly stubborn and set in her ways she did. Liz spent an entire evening getting ready, she had just gotten an invitation to a frat party on her campus and she decided, for once, to be sociable.

She put on her tall black boots, black shinny pants, a blue silk shirt, and combed her hair into a French twist. As she drove to the party she thought several times about giving up and going home, but her brain just told her to keep driving.

Parking around the block, in case the police decided to close down the street, she walked following the trail of beer cans to the address on the paper. Arriving at the party, there were already several men that she stepped over to get into the house. The bass was thumping in her head and she climbed the worn wooden steps. Upon entry to the house she entered chaos. People were jumping around all over the place, several couples were sprawled on the couches, and someone put a cup of beer into her hand. Gazing through the dense smoke she noticed a man she had had in several of her history classes, a relatively nice guy who had always seemed interested in her.

Guy asked her if she had been there long, and she replied she hadn't. Taking a lot swallow of the foul alcohol she started up some small talk and asked for another beer. Three beers later, feeling rather dizzy from the smoke and the beer, she asked Guy for a place to lie down. He guided her to a back bedroom. Liz halted at the door, all the warnings she ever heard from her parents, friends, and the CDC pounding in her head. She turned to find Guy smiling down on her, his messy brown hair looking rather attractive, and as he kissed her she allowed herself to be propelled into the room.

A few hours or so later, Liz pushed Guy off her and sat up. Sore in some very odd places and feeling rather ill Liz go dressed and ran into the bathroom down the hall. It was still rather noisy down the corridor but the sun was starting to appear and most of the guests were scattering like rats. The police had arrived.

Liz cleaned herself up and ran into the bedroom promptly locking the door behind her. She grabbed her coat and threw it on, feeling for her keys in the right-hand pocket; she opened up the window and just as she was going to climb out she decided that she needed some compensation for the headache and the bruises. She crept back to Guy's discarded pants, hearing the knocking on the hallways doors approach the room, pulled the wallet from the back pocket and ran. Jumping in her car she opened his wallet and took fifty of the dollars stored within. She found an envelope and scrawled the closest police station's name on it and tossed it in a post box, and drove home.

After this encounter Liz refused dates from men that she liked, or had a crush on, and would instead proposition men at bars. No one knew that she did this not even Jenny, her best friend. She stopped this behavior the night that her grandfather had gotten terribly sick. Guilty at the thought of leaving him alone for so long racked her soul. Liz still considered herself to be a good person, and three or four 'dates' was certainly not a hard-core illegal activity, but she still felt horrible when she looked back on those days and whatever had possessed her to do that.

Terrified for a few seconds that George had known of her past behavior, Liz tried to figure out what she could possibly say to rectify the situation. She took another piece of the lamb and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

Posted on Tuesday, 20 November 2001

"I am actually meeting my boyfriend at the airport." Liz replied with more confidence than she felt. "Take that! Drunken man" she thought to herself.

"Oh." George seemed at a loss for words. "Well here is my card, in case you change your mind." He rooted through his wallet, with greasy fingers, and pulled out a business card. Handing in over to Liz he unbuckled his belt and stumbled to the bathroom.

Liz sighed with relief and tucked the card into her pants pocket. She'd chuck it later when she remembered to. Taking advantage of the quiet she reached under the seat in front of her and popped her backpack on her lap put her head on it and hoped that the rest of the flight would be uneventful.

"Good Morning ladies and gentlemen. We are now entering the country of Ireland. It is now 8:50am and it is 42oF or 5.5oC." For the non-European citizens you will need to fill out a landing card which the stewardesses will be handing out shortly."

The smell of coffee and hot muffins filtered through the stuffy cabin air. Liz cracked open an eye and noticed that George was conked out in an alcoholic stupor.

"Thank God, maybe I'll be able to sneak out before he wakes up." Liz thought to herself. The food smelled pretty good too. She sat up and put her bag on the empty seat to her right. Desperately needing the toilet she stood on her seat and jumped over the carcass of George. When she returned he was still dead to the world and on her tray was a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.

'Yummy,' Liz sank into the food with relish and filled out the card handed to her by the cabin lady. Nodding towards George she asked if they were together, Liz's face showed her reaction, and the stewardess laughed. "Is he a citizen of the U.K.?" Liz said that he was and the stewardess disappeared.

The plane landed with a screech of tires but very little jolting to the plane. The moment the plane had taxied and stopped moving Liz grabbed her bag and threw on her pack and flew, no pun intended, out of the plane.

Chapter 4: A Sort Of Freedom

Standing in line for her checked luggage Liz mused about how long her stay should be that she was going to write on the card. A week didn't justify the entire luggage she was bringing with her so she decided that she'd flub a bit and say a month. She passed through Customs relatively easily considering all the bags she had with her. Stepping outside of the Shannon airport Liz squinted against the bright sunlight and hailed a cab.

The black car pulled alongside her and the driver hopped out and asked her where she would like to go. Liz asked for the nearest car rental place and stepped in.

Posted on Thursday, 17 January 2002

The driver got her to a small family-owned store. The sheet metal sign above the door explained the building as being the headquarters of "Jack's Car Rental". Lix stepped out of the vehicle, paid the driver, and dragging all her bags behind her, entered the shop.

"Hello, is anyone in here?" She called into the brightly light, but empty, store.

"Yar, Yar, hold on a minute...don't get your knickers in a knot."

The man speaking this sentence strolled about the corner past the greasy magazine stand to nearly bowl Liz over where she stood.

He quite brazenly looked her up and down for a few seconds and then huskly asked what kind of car she wanted to rent. The large, quite greasy man, said that he could provide her with all the 'service' she required. All she had to do was ask for Bill Collins.

"I'm in hell", Liz moaned to herself. She decided the most expedient way to remove herself from this horrible place was to rent the cheapest car possible, and to purchase a map if possible.

"Well we only ave a Rabbit left but it is cheap and shouldn't break down." Bill said.

"I'll take it." Liz forked over the requested funds, quickly grabbed her bags and fled wondering if her whole trip in Ireland would be like this.

Cramming her suitcases into the trunk and placing her backpack on the passenger seat it took Liz a few minutes to remember 1) how to drive a stick and 2) how to do it with her left hand, sitting on the other side of the car, and praying that she wouldn't kill anyone.

With a full tank of gas Liz set off towards Ennis.

Singing to the tune of "Ring of Fire" Liz started to observe the scenery around her. "Oh, the turns turns turns, they were mighty scary the Ring of Kerry, the Ring of Kerry."

(O.k. I know that we are nowhere near Kerry but the song was pretty great when we made it up. If anyone is interested I can email it to you.)

A little shaken and white Liz emerged from the vehicle at the ferry docks, gratified that she hadn't killed anyone. Those tall hedges can be mighty frightening because you can never see what is behind them, or alongside them, when driving.

Some of the hardworking ferry men grabbed Liz's luggage and helped her onto the boat.

Posted on Tuesday, 2 April 2002

After the long flight it felt good to be able to stretch her legs and walk up and down the ferry. The sea salt made the air seem much cleaner than it had anytime in the car ride and certainly much better than on the plane. The lower half of the ferry was full of seats, perhaps fifty in all, and the top part of the ferry had benches for warm weather. Liz was the only passenger on the ship, with the exception of a sleepy elderly couple, and the two crew-men. Although the weather had turned a bit cloudy and cold, the speed of the ship increasing the wind-chill, Liz wanted to experience the freedom of the wind rushing through her hair.

While on the upper deck Liz noticed a tall slender young man, anywhere from five to ten years older than her, and she thought he was quite cute from the back. He was wearing a hand knitted white sweater over a thick turtleneck. His pants were brown corduroy with non-slip shoes. He was coiling several thick ropes into neat piles to help secure the boat to shore.

Liz started to amuse herself by imagining how nice it would be to live in such a beautiful country and do nothing but live off the sea. If she was unable to have a farm, living on a boat would be just fine with her. Liz picked herself up off the bench and started to walk down the stairs to get her luggage. The ladder was a little slippery, with the gloomy day and the sea spray from the boat engines. While Liz climbed down the ladder, one rung from the bottom, her foot shot out from under her and loosing her grip she tumbled over the edge of the ferry into the cold, gray, ocean.

Disoriented by the fall Liz took a large breath to be sure that she had enough oxygen to last to the surface. Unfortunately part of that breath occurred after Liz hit the water. Since her childhood was spent around fresh water lakes Liz had never realized that salt-water would sting her eyes if she opened them up under the surface. Blinded and quickly running out of oxygen Liz followed her air bubbles to the surface. Gasping for air, and wiping her hair out of her eyes, Liz treaded water in a circle, so that she would be able to spot the ferry. Maybe it was the wake of the ship, or the slate colored water, but Liz could not see the ship at all.

"Great", she thought, "I'm stuck in the water fifteen miles off shore, in cold water, and I don't even know which way to go." With no compass, sun, or tree to hug Liz was not able to determine the direction to shore. She couldn't hear any birds or the rumbling of the boat's engines, so that was no help. Liz started to feel that familiar sinking in the pit of her stomach. Trying valiantly not to start crying Liz floated for a while to regain some of her energy. She decided to start heading towards where she thought the mainland would be.

Striking out for shore was taking much more energy than Liz expected it would. She was also starting to shake violently from the cold. Lifting up her left hand she noticed that the bed of each nail was turning blue. She was also starting to get really tired from fighting the swells and the weight of her clothes. Liz kicked off her shoes and started to take off her jeans, once these items were dropped to the bottom of ocean she felt much lighter, although she was very cold. If the water was approximately in the high 50's Liz knew that she had three, possibly four, days before she got to weak to survive. She had no water, no food, and no flotation devices. If she didn't find help, or if they didn't find her soon, she was doomed.

After slowly swimming for an hour of so, Liz still didn't see any signs of life or boats around her. As darkness started to creep over the horizon Liz tried to find some way to sleep without drowning. She settled on wrapping her arms around her knees, in a fetal position, and allowed the ocean to roll her onto her back. Not really expecting to wake up Liz closed her eyes.

Chapter 5: Rescued by a Salty Sailor

Posted on Wednesday, 3 April 2002

If this was the after life, or reincarnation, Liz had to admit that it felt very comfortable. She still felt the rocking of the ocean but she was surrounded by warmth. The first sense that she had, other than being able to feel her hands and feet, was being able to hear. The sound that registered was a popping fire. Thanking Her that she was still alive Liz started to try to use her brain gently. The warmth in the room could be from that fire...but how did she get there? Cracking open one eye Liz started into the brightness of the room. She was on a single bed, swaddled in quilts and blankets, alone in a small one-room stone house. Blinking against the brightness Liz noted that she had been dressed in a wool sweater with sweatpants, and she had mittens and thick socks on.

Both her nose and her mouth were terribly sore and she gingerly tried to sit up to find some water. Lifting the blanket to swing her legs over the edge of the bed Liz noticed that her left ankle was in a splint. Sighing heavily Liz struggled with unwrapping the blankets from her body. As she put her stiff muscles to work she slowly hobbled to the window. A beautiful sight met her eyes, she saw a field of lapis lazuli dotted with thick puffy clouds and under that a pale gray-blue rolling sea. The wake was nearly non-existent and there were very few whitecaps showing their heads.

Liz was startled by what a pretty sight met her eyes. Other than the landscape. The man she had noticed on the ferry was standing in the front yard talking to an elderly gentleman. Hot dog! Besides being young and attractive he also had her luggage in his hand. Which one of them lived in this abode? Glancing around the room Liz figured it could be either one of the gentlemen due to the lack of 'fluffy' things that graced the walls, or shelves, of the home.

What she could hear, and understand, in her limited Irish consisted of: "Dia dhuit. Conas ta tu?" Good morning and how are you? Well, she understood that much but the rest of the conversation was to rapid to even get the gist of. Both men talked for about five minutes and started to walk up the path to the house. As they did the younger man glanced up towards the house, smack into Liz's eyes.

"Eeeeek!" Liz couldn't keep herself from squealing and trying to hobble back to the bed as quickly as possible. Just as the door opened Liz threw herself onto the bed. In walked both men. Guiltily flushing Liz looked at the young man as he placed her bags in front of her.

"Miss I hope that you are feeling better?" Liz replied that she did indeed feel better, other than her ankle. "I'd like to tell you how sorry I am that you were injured. Your lucky that Mr. Nelson was just rowing in from his diving expedition.", as he gestured to the older man. He introduced himself as James MacWilliam. James explained the situation, as Mr. Nelson was rather shy, that had occurred while Liz had been unconscious.

"Mr. Nelson is an oncologist in Dublin and he rents this house from my family on his vacation time. He was collecting some undersea pictures when on rowing back he saw something washing up on shore. It turned out to be you. He managed to pull you to shore and get the water out of your lungs."

At this point Mr. Nelson decided to jump in and help narrate. "You don't seem to have many injuries other than your sprained ankle." He said, "I just want to perform another check to make sure you're fine, unless you want to visit the hospital."

Liz thankfully said, "No I'd rather not visit the hospital unless I feel any worse. But I do wish to thank you so much that I can't ever repay you."

After the examination, where Liz had been poked and prodded to make sure she was all right, the only part of her that still hurt was her ankle. Mr. Nelson kicked out Mr. MacWilliam so that Liz would be able to digest this information as well as sleep. Although MacWilliam, or as Liz preferred to think of him, James, said that he would check up on her later that week.

Although, she still had a sore throat, the combination of chicken soup and sleep was very helpful to her whole being, and Liz felt as good as new the next morning.

Chapter the Sixth: Falling in Love

Posted on Wednesday, 8 May 2002

Liz got up and paced, well as much as one could pace with crutches, the small room alone with her thoughts. Dr. Nelson had left to do some more diving after Liz assured him that she would be perfectly safe while he was gone. She wastrying to figure out how to salvage what was left of her trip. She had stashed her money in various pieces of her luggage, so only what she had stored in her pocket was missing. But Liz figured that she needed a job quite desperately. Being beholden to anyone, even someone as nice as the Dr., didn't make Liz comfortable.

Liz snatched the newspaper from the table and started scanning the want ads. All of which required jobs that were on the mainland. She dug through her luggage and pulled out her coat and a hat and quickly scrambled out the door.

The streets were deserted. The sudden coolness had taken many, including the villagers, off their normal routines, that gave Liz peace and quiet to figure out what to do.

Slowly cruching her way through the path that wound up the embankment Liz stopped at the supermarket on the island. Trying to remember what weight a 'stone' was Liz looked at magazines that promised "this drink helped me loose two stone in two days!" always with an incredibly tiny woman advertising the product. Approaching the clerk Liz inquired about jobs and was informed that there were none to be had. However the young man did mention that the post office might be needing someone.

"Thanks", Liz muttered as she left the store. Fully intending to pop up to the post office, slowly of course, as soon as she sat for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" A rather surprised James MacWilliam asked. With an uplifted eyebrow he sat next to Liz waiting for a response.

Feeling completely like the proverbial kid-in-the-cookie-jar, Liz glanced up at him trying to quickly make up a story.

"Ummm, I felt that I needed to repay Dr. Nelson for his kindness (which was true, although she didn't necessarily mean to do it that moment, or even day) and I came here looking for something to surprise him with."

There. Liz felt it was a plausible statement, even if she herself only half bought it.

"Oh, that is quite nice of you. What did you get him?" James asked, quickly calling her bluff.

"I didn't get him anything yet...do you happen to know something that he likes? In particular possibly something with alcohol?"

Liz was starting to get the feeling that she was going to leave the store with an escort, and possibly food as well. Sigh...

"Sure I do, why not get him some Jamison. That always goes over well. Come on, I'll help you up." Extending a hand, James practically lifted Liz off the ground and into the store.

Twenty minutes, and two bottles of whiskey later, Liz and James were headed into the main street and off to the Dr.'s house. Walking along the pavement Liz and James started to talk, about their jobs and families. Liz told James nearly everything about her family except about the loss of her parents and her grandfather. James told her about his several sisters, brothers, and his early childhood. By the time they reached the house they were both talked out and Liz was anticipating a rather angry Dr. Nelson at the door.

However, when they arrived at the house, Dr. Nelson was not there. He was just pulling his boat ashore. James started to conversation by mentioning that he hoped when Dr. Nelson left he would be happy to accept a bottle of Jamison. The Dr. said that he would.....and that he would be leaving later that day.

"Hmmm, that means that I would have the cottage all to myself. (wicked smile)", Liz thought to herself, rather gleeful...

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

dietanamase.keep.pl