ikissdhimbck | OOM: Green Lake, Doc's visit (cont.)

Entry tags:

OOM: Green Lake, Doc's visit (cont.)

It's a bit foggy out by the lake this early in the morning. Texas in July doesn't get mornings that are too terribly chilly, but as the warming air hits the cold lake water, a fine layer of mist blankets the glassy surface, and curls into the grassy shore.

Katherine is sitting in the dewy grass, her back against an old oak tree. It is the very spot she had pointed out to Doc a few days previous. She wasn't sure how it would look if Doc met her that morning at her house, or even if she came again to the Hawthorn's front porch. She hadn't wanted him to come alone to the schoolhouse, either. So she had invited him to meet her there, by the lake, in public but at the same time... not.

The noise of crickets and bullfrogs is in the air, and the book of Poe Doc had lent to her those few weeks past is in her lap. She's scribbling in the back, on that blank page every book has, though Doc's handsome cursive is already covering most of it.

When he arrives, that's how he'll find Katherine: comfortable against the trunk of that tree--her tree--book balanced on her knees as she reads.

.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's dressed down from the night before, looking more like he did the first day he arrived in Green Lake in a simple grey suit and shirt. His glasses are tucked into his coat pocket and he has his bag slung over his shoulder.

In that simple leather bag are various treasures that he'll dig through later once the day has started and they're at the schoolhouse, but for now his hands are tucked lightly in his coat pockets as he approaches.

After he and the Hawthorns had made their way back to the house and he'd bid them good evening, he'd spent some time thinking about what he wanted to teach her students the next day -- and spent some time thinking about that moment standing beside each other watching the fireworks.

The memory makes him smile as he makes his presence known as to not startle her, clearing his throat quietly.

She looks up from her book when she hears him, a smile broadening her lips.

"Good morning," she says, and the sunshine in her voice could rival the rising light at the horizon.

A long blue skirt lays across her knees, and a long-sleeved white cotton top dips slightly at her chest, unlike the high-collared tops she usually wears. Her hair is swept off her neck and gently curled at the back.

And her fingers tremble slightly against the spine of the book, as her heart starts to beat just a little bit faster.

"Good mornin', Miss Katherine."

Doc gives her a smile and then glances over at the lake and then at the rising sun on the horizon, pulling in a deep breath. It's a good morning.

He's going to get to spend time with students and he's going to get to spend time with Miss Katherine, and he's going to teach and he's going to help fix up that schoolhouse if she'll let him.

"How are you," he asks. "Did you sleep well?"

After all that dancing, he was exhausted, but he could barely calm down enough to relax.

It's a good morning for another reason. He's not going to get shot at, today.

"I did, thank you," she says as she gets to her feet, brushing her dew-dampened skirts with one hand.

It's not a lie, because even though she was up half the night reeling over the events of the day, she slept quite soundly the few hours she managed before daylight.

"And you, Doc? Does the day find you well?"

"Very well," he agrees.

Plus, the Hawthorns insisted on feeding him properly and he's had coffee, so he's awake. Not that he wouldn't be awake just by the sheer fact that he's so damn excited he couldn't be anything else.

"Excited, if I gotta say more," he says, with a bit of youthful enthusiasm that creeps into his voice. "I...I'm really lookin' forward to today."

All parts of today. He eyes the ground a moment, trying to think of what to say in regards to the night before.

"And I, well, I sure did..." No. That's not coming out right. He shakes it off. "I had a wonderful time last yesterday at the picnic," he says quietly, before he looks up at her. "And I wanted t'thank you for it."

A rosy blush creeps into Katherine's cheeks as Doc fumbles with his words.

Her fingers tremble just slightly more.

"I... I had a marvelous time yesterday as well. And it's you I have to thank for it," she murmurs at last, eyes on the book in her hands. "I... You..."

She swallows, trying to think of the right words to say.

"You're a wonderful dancer," she finally settles, though that's not at all the memory she has in mind.

"Thank you," Doc says, knowing when to take the compliment and not protest. "So're you. It's been a spell since I've had such a fine partner to practice with."

Deep breath.

As long as he keeps breathing, he'll be okay.

He notices the book and then smiles a bit.

"Poe this morning?"

Katherine's lips quirk into a smile, and she raises her eyes to his face again.

"Yes. I feel my day is benefited by starting it with a little fine poetry."

She doesn't mention that not all the poems she read were in fact by Poe, but they were in the book, so.

She glances out toward the lake and the rising sun.

"The morning's getting on. Shall we make our way to the schoolhouse?"

Doc offers his arm to her with a polite, small nod.

"I think that would be an excellent course," he says.

Once they are on their way to the schoolhouse, he continues the conversation, answering a question she wondered about earlier.

"You know I haven't had a chance to teach since the day I got arrested," he comments. "I'm afraid I might be a little rusty...how do you normally start off your day? I don't want to mess with the plans you have for the lesson..."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," she smiles in reply, patting his arm with her free hand. "All the children were quite taken with you, and they're good students. Patient. Polite. You shouldn't have any problems with them.

"We usually start off by reviewing what we learned the day before. They'll recite their letters for me, or we'll run through our maths. I'm perhaps not as strict as most; I find my children learn easier when they're comfortable, so I try to let them have a say in what we go over for the day. We never have a terribly rigid curriculum."

In other words, Doc, feel free to do your thing.

"Besides, the children know things will be a bit different with you teaching them today. They're eager to be instructed by a real New York City teacher," she chuckles.

Doc's still figuring out just what exactly that thing is going to be.

"Well it's not as if a New York City teacher would be any different, we're all teachers."

His plan is basically to let her start off and then he'll get started with his lessons after they've reviewed, at this point. Unless that changes in the near future.

"Must've danced with half your class," he says. "And you took care of the rest."

"Try telling that to a young one who's never seen the outside of this county," she smiles patiently. "It's a wonder they don't think you're a titan."

She chuckles at the memory of last night, hugging the book of poetry a little tighter. "You seem to have struck the fancy of quite a few of the women in this town, my students not least of which."

But, judging by the blush on her face, not most of which, either.

"Suppose I have seen more of the country than most folk," he admits, with a bit of a laugh. "Even if most of it was just a blur on horseback."

He glances over at her then, at that blush on her face.

"Well even if I've struck the fancy of a number of the ladies, there's only a certain one I'm interested in, t'be honest with you."

Maybe a little too forward, but he'll blame Milliways for that.

He'll notice the blush in her cheeks deepen a little, a shy little smile forming on her lips.

She looks up to catch his glance. "I'm sure they'll all be very disappointed to hear that," she says quietly, before her timidness overcomes her and she has to look away again.

"And envious of the one, to be sure," she adds after some time, unable to restrain a broad smile.

"Well I'm sure she can handle it," he says, giving her an even look, but the smile is tugging at his lips and the grin threatens a little. "She's an awful strong young woman, if you ask me."

Doc follows her up the way to the schoolhouse, making certain to give her the chance to duck away from his eyes without feeling awkward.

And that opportunity is not only taken, but appreciated as well. She's forced to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling too large, embarrassed by the compliment.

"She sounds like quite the catch," she manages to quip, playing along though inside she's trembling.

She's not sure whether she is grateful or sad when they reach the schoolhouse and ascend the steps inside. She props the rickety old door open, not only for propriety's sake while she and Doc wait alone for her students to arrive, but to air out the stale old room.

Doc lets his fingertips graze the desk surfaces again as he makes his way up towards the front of the room, and she might notice the way he gets a little bit quiet as he glances around the schoolhouse again.

It's not stale. It might be dusty and there are a few pieces that could use a spot of paint, a few patches to the roof, a good sweeping here and there but to him...it's a schoolhouse. A real, proper schoolhouse.

"I know I'm not the only one who thinks so," he admits.

"Is that so?" she asks, eyebrows arched, though her eyes can't quite manage to meet his; every time they do, her cheeks flame up, too hot.

But she does watch him carefully as he slowly wanders through the room again. She smiles at the tender little way his fingers graze the surface of the desks as he moves past, herself all too familiar with the action.

There's something deep and moving about a schoolhouse. Something only an educator can really feel.

"Fond memories?" she asks quietly, after quite some time of hushed observation.

"Yes," he nods a little and then pulls the strap of his bag off over his shoulder, moving to set it on a spare chair near the wall. "You know, it's the little things. Not just bein' back in the schoolhouse or the idea of teachin' students again..."

Doc approaches the blackboard and touches the sill and the white dust with his fingertips.

"Watchin' the boys writin' their letters and the smell of chalk just brings it back," he admits, before he claps his hands together and brushes them off.

She regards him patiently with compassionate eyes, nodding gently when she thinks she understands.

"The scratch of chalk as it taps the blackboard, and the taste of a good, sweet apple," she adds with a reminiscent little smile. "Reminds me of my time at Tulane."

She's quiet for a moment.

"I can't imagine what it must be like. Being stuck someplace, far from your home. Far from your children."

Doc glances over at her and smiles a little, with a hint of a nod.

your children

If only she knew.

(Now's not the time to bring up his son.)

"It's not easy," he says finally. That's it, really. It's not easy at all. "Though I wouldn't say I'm far from my home. I haven't really..."

Had one? He had one with Tunstall and the rest of the boys.

She dips her head to the side and peers at him with unflinching eyes. They're urging him to continue, but she doesn't say a word. She doesn't want to force him, if the subject makes him uncomfortable.

She can guess at what he might have said, though, and the idea of him with no place to feel secure makes her sad.

Her eyes probably say as much without her even having to speak the words.

"It's been a long time since I really had a chance to put down roots. I started back in New York City...I just could've used more time. But on the other hand..."

Doc glances back at the open door and makes sure nobody is really within earshot before he continues.

"On the other hand, there's somethin' that I love 'bout it. There's just this...this feelin' that I get when I'm ridin' hell-bent for leather and they're gettin' closer and you ain't sure if they're gonna catch you, and when you do git away..."

He pulls in a breath and shakes his head, a grin on his face.

"Best feelin' in the world."

If he was seeking her rapt attention, he got it. She'd hate to know what she looked like just then--probably like a little girl at her father's knee, listening to ghost stories.

Very slowly a smile spreads across her lips and reaches all the way up into her round eyes.

"I'll try not to feel too sorry for you, then," she teases.

(And that's her most polite way of saying 'OMG NO WAI IZ SO JEALOUS!!!1')

Doc laughs at that response, and ducks his head.

"Yeah," he teases himself. "Respectable schoolteacher from New York City, all right."

A beat.

"That reminds me, I gotta take you out ridin' at the bar once we get back," he reminds himself, and her.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject