WitFit for October 3

Prompt: Puddle

Dialogue flex: "I'll take two."

I don't own Twilight. This one fits in with 1929, chapter 4. Oh, and it's Aunt Rose's POV, very fun to write. This is unbeta'd and was written very quickly (that's the point of WitFit, to write more "off the cuff") Please be gentle. ;)


"Rose!"

The front door closed with a soft thud. My niece appeared in the parlour a moment later, face flushed and brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Rose, come here. You have to see him. He followed me. Again."

Isabella shed her coat and tossed it carelessly across the nearest chair. She threw her hat on top before crossing the parlour to the large bay window. She pulled the curtain slightly aside to peek out.

"Oh! He's still there. Rose, really. Come see." Isabella was whispering as if the man would hear her. My old bones and I stayed put in my favourite chair.

"I'm not going to be able to see him that far away anyway." This had been going on for days. My niece had moved here from her native New York less than a week ago, leaving behind disapproving parents and quite possibly a disappointed fiancé. I hadn't been able to get a straight answer out of her on that one. "Did he try to talk to you again?" I asked. I'd expected a fair amount of excitement having such a young person in the house and Isabella was delivering. She was a whirlwind of activity even before this strange young man had spotted her – and her, him. My goodness, the carrying on since then.

"No, he hasn't talked to me since that first time." She peered out into the early evening again. "Well, nevermind. There he goes." Isabella said. The wistful note in her voice worried me. Time for me to speak up.

"Isabella, why all this fuss? I thought you came here because you didn't want to get caught in that web of men and marriage. You declared your independence my dear, right on my front porch. You said, and I quote, that you'd 'rather be nun than get trapped forever as a slave to house and babies'."

Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. She crossed the room slowly and sat in the wingback chair opposite mine. "I know you're right. I don't know what I'm thinking. That's just it, Rose, I don't think when I see him. I just know that I have to." She slumped to the side and closed her eyes. "Oh, what is wrong with me?" she wailed.

Mary came in silently, pushing the tea trolley ahead of her. She raised an eye brow at me in question; should she serve it out? I shook my head and she left just as silently. I cleared my throat.

"Yes, Rose?" Isabella pulled herself together and blinked at the tea tray. She poured out the first cup and put it back on the tray. I waited patiently. "He's just so handsome!" she blurted out. I looked at her over the tops of my specs and she blushed but apparently the dam had burst.

"He's tall, Rose, so very tall and his shoulders, well I've only seen him in his overcoat but he's broad across the shoulders." Isabella gestured with her hands. "Oh and the way he walks... it's not a saunter, no not that. Not a strut per se either. Oh I don't know how to describe it but I do know I'm going to walk full on into a lamppost one of these days trying to watch him over my shoulder!" Here she paused for breath and her expression, if possible, became dreamier. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Isabella added milk to the tea. I didn't take milk but decided not to interrupt her little performance. "I looked at his eyes again today, right as I walked by, before he got up to follow me. He always waits until I cross the street, see, before he gets up. They aren't the grassy green I originally thought, his eyes, I mean, they're a little darker. I haven't seen his hair yet, he's always wearing a hat." She frowned at that.

I began to want my tea and wondered just how long Isabella could go on about this man. She took up the sugar tongs but stopped mid-motion, holding the tongs in the air as yet another thought distracted her.

"His face, Rose. My God, his face. Why, you could cut glass on his jaw line! I've never seen a man so handsome, not even close." Her gaze was far away and I felt a qualm. Please let this be a kind man. Please let this man be worthy of my Isabella. "He looks like an angel." I needed to break her from her trance.

"What about all your plans Isabella? Let me play Devil's advocate here: are you telling me you took one look at his strong jaw line and lost your marbles? Because that's what it sounds like to me." My tone was harsher than I intended and she bristled as she put the tongs down. Apparently I'd hit a nerve. And I wasn't getting my tea anytime soon.

Her face flashed from annoyance to wonderment as she tried to explain.

"It's not just how he looks Rose – do you really think me so shallow?" I shook my head. Of course I didn't. "I suppose it's simply easier to talk about how he looks because I can see that, I can describe it." She was gazing toward the window, seeing in her mind's eye the stranger who had turned her world upside down. "I don't really know how to describe how he makes me feel. Rose, just the sight of him and I'm warm straight through." She placed a hand on her stomach and rubbed lightly, absently. "I've seen him every day, I know he's waiting for me too, it's not just me, and I can sense how much it will hurt if the day comes that I don't see him." She swallowed and I felt a matching lump in my throat. It happened like that sometimes. I knew. "I feel silly and like I'm going crazy and like I've never been so happy in my whole life." Her voice caught and she stopped talking. For someone so happy she looked terribly sad.

"Two lumps if you please, Isabella," I said gently. She started and looked at me a little wildly. I'd pulled her back from very far away. I smiled at her in sympathy. "I'll take two please," I said.

I watched her as she completed the pouring out, still far away but not dreamy anymore. Contemplative. She'd left her family and their expectations and moved here to Chicago to live with me for a time before setting off on an adventure of her own choosing. She'd insisted she was sure of what she wanted. One glimpse at this man...

She shook off her reverie and took a sip of her tea. She straightened her shoulders and I hid my smile. She'd be fine. Whatever happened, whatever choice she did end up making for herself. Isabella would be fine.