— everything —
April 1st, 1939
GISELLE PAUSED WHEN she entered the kitchen and came across Will. They had both been avoiding each other like their lives depended on it this last week, never getting more than mere glimpses at the other.
Her heart painfully ached in her chest at the sight of him pouring himself a glass of water at the sink. She wanted nothing more than to run across the room and be in his arms, but she held strong.
Before she was able to turn around and leave, Will spotted her.
"Oh," he said, meeting her gaze for only a second before his eyes dropped down to the glass in hand and stayed there. "Um, I'll leave."
"No, you're fine," Giselle told him before he could move. "I'll leave."
"It's alright, you stay. I just needed a drink, is all." He quickly chugged down the rest of his water before placing his empty glass into the sink. "All done," he told her, moving to leave.
Giselle gave him a wide berth, careful not to get too close to him like she yearned to do. He kept his head down as he passed, not letting his eyes come anywhere near her.
When he finally left, she felt like a mess.
Was this how it was going to be between them? Was their only conservations with each other be about who gets which room because they can't handle being in a closed space together?
It had only been a week since they had last spoke, and Giselle missed him like she was missing an organ, and she supposed that she was, in a way.
He wholly, fully, irrevocably had her heart.
"What are you doing?" Marguerite's voice startled her, making her spin around and face the entrance.
"Oh, uh, nothing," Giselle said. She had been so caught up in her thoughts, that she had completely forgotten what she had come into the kitchen for.
"You seemed awful deep in thought," Marguerite pointed out. "You were staring at the counter for a long time before I spoke up. Care to tell me what's captured your thoughts?
Giselle waved a hand. "It's nothing important."
Marguerite fixed her with a knowing look. "Are you positive about that? Because I think we both know what you were thinking about."
Giselle shook her head. "Let's just not talk about it, okay? It's too depressing."
"Alright," Marguerite said, a look of pity flashing across her face. "Anyways," she quickly brightened into a smile, "I was wondering if you would like to go to the shops with me."
"Yeah, actually, that sounds wonderful," Giselle said almost immediately. "I need to get out of this house," and far away from Will.
"Splendid! Get dressed and we'll depart when you are ready."
• — • — •
Giselle was beginning to believe that her brain was broken. It seemed that every thought she had somehow revolved around Will, and she couldn't make herself stop.
The green blouse she glanced at? It reminded her of Will's eyes.
The yellow dress Marguerite made her try on? She wondered what Will would think about it.
The advertisement she saw of a man in a new suit? She thought Will would look great in that suit.
"Oh my gosh," Giselle breathed out in frustration as she and Marguerite exited the shop. "I can't do this anymore."
Marguerite snapped her head towards Giselle. "Do what? Shopping? But we didn't even get anything!"
Giselle shook her head. "No, shopping's fine. I just can't deal with my brain anymore." She looked down to the ground as they walked to the next shop, bypassing pedestrians on the pavement. "And my heart. My heart totally sucks right now."
"I'm sorry, Ellie. What can I do to help?"
Giselle shrugged, letting Marguerite loop her arm through hers like she always did. "I don't think there's anything that would help me right now."
"Maybe a distraction? In the form of a very charming doctor I heard you kissed?" Marguerite suggested, wiggling her eyebrows at Giselle. "I'm slightly angry that I had to hear about that from Selene, but I'll let it go for your sake."
Giselle couldn't help but blush. "It was just a kiss between us, nothing more," she told Marguerite.
"Oh, but he's such a sweet man. And he's quite handsome. If he was as rich as Jim Ludlow, I would be all over him."
"Yeah, he is sweet, but he's not what I want."
Marguerite's eyes softened. "Oh, Ellie."
Giselle waved a hand. "I'm fine."
"Are you—oh, heavens!" Marguerite exclaimed, her eyes caught on something a few yards away. "That's Jim Ludlow," she said in surprise. "Act natural," she said under her breath.
Giselle looked up, spotting a man walking on the pavement towards them. He wore an expensive blue suit and had his honey-brown hair slicked back under a matching hat. His brown eyes lit up upon seeing Marguerite.
"Hello, Miss Dubois," the man greeted, taking off his hat to greet her before turning to Giselle. "And you are . . ."
"Oh, this is my best friend Giselle Saunders," Marguerite said. "Giselle, this is Jim Ludlow."
Giselle threw on a fake smile and nodded at Jim. "Lovely to meet you, Jim Ludlow."
"Lovely to meet you as well," Jim said back as he slipped his hat back on.
A man slid up next to him, Giselle startling when she realized that it was Steven Sandoval.
"Oh, and this is my good friend Steven Sandoval," Jim said to Giselle.
"We've met," Steven informed him. "Hello, my beautiful American."
Giselle tried to keep her smile from dropping as she greeted him back. "Hello, Steven."
"Steven and I were just on our way to lunch," Jim said. "Would you ladies care to join us?"
Giselle felt Marguerite's arm tense in excitement, her dark eyes cutting to Giselle before looking back to the men. "If you men don't mind, us ladies need to chat."
"Oh, not at all. Go right ahead," Jim said.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Marguerite whispered as she and Giselle moved underneath a shop awning out of earshot of the men.
Marguerite practically read Giselle's mind. She didn't want to go at all. Faking a smile and trying to swallow down food she wasn't hungry for sounded awful.
"I don't, but I also don't want to ruin this for you," Giselle said back. "I know you're dying to go out with Jim."
"I am," Marguerite admitted, "but it won't be hard to find another opportunity with him. Let's just tell them no—"
"No, Marguerite, it's fine. Let's just go."
"No. I'm not going to make you go if you don't want to. If you really want me to go, why don't you just take the car back?" Marguerite suggested.
"I can't drive that car!" Giselle said before lowering her voice. "Its ancient and y'all drive on the left side of the road! I'll get in a wreck!"
"Oh, I forgot about that," Marguerite told her. She sighed, tugging Giselle back towards the men. "I'm sorry, but Giselle isn't feeling well. Maybe another time, yes?"
Jim smiled and nodded his head. "Of course." He looked to Giselle. "I do hope you feel better."
"Thanks," she said. "It's just a headache, is all."
"Say, why don't I take you home?" Steven said out of nowhere. "That way, these two can enjoy a fine date with each other?"
Giselle's initial reaction was to say no, but when she saw the spark of hope in Marguerite's eyes, she changed her answer.
"Um, sure," she told him. "That's very kind of you."
Steven grinned. "Just trying to help out a beautiful woman, is all," he said nonchalantly.
"How wonderful!" Jim exclaimed. "Would you like to go now, my dear?" he asked Marguerite.
"Um," she looked to Giselle, who urged her to go with her eyes. "Yes, absolutely!" She let go of Giselle's arm to take Jim's. "Bye you two!" she called out to Steven and Giselle as she and Jim began to walk off.
"I suppose we should be going," Giselle said once it was just her and Steven left. "Where did you park?"
Steven made small talk as he lead her down the pavement to his car, being perfectly respectful as he opened her door and helped her inside.
He stayed respectful as he drove off towards to Gentilly.
It was when he turned down the unused dirt road that led to Dare Manor when Giselle began to question his motives.
Especially when his foot found the brake and slowly began to press down.
And when he pulled the car off to the side of the road.
Parked it.
And looked to her.
He tried to give her a charming smirk as his hand creeped over to plant itself on her knee, but the grin looked more predatory than anything.
She froze.
"You know, my beautiful American, I've loved playing this game with you, where you try to avoid me, but now," he leaned in closer, his hand clamped on her knee to keep her seated, "I want my prize."
He moved closer, whether to kiss her or do something else, she didn't know, and she didn't plan on finding out.
"Get off, you jerk!" she yelled. She pressed her hands to his shoulders, using his surprise to shove him back.
She must not have used enough force, because his hand was still firm around her knee. If anything, it had traveled further up her leg. It rested on her mid thigh, and made her heart beat faster in fear.
"Come on, my beauty," he cooed in her ear, moving closer to her, "give me my prize. I deserve it."
"You don't deserve crap from me!" she hissed at him, trying to push him back.
He tried to move closer again, but she brought her other hand up faster than he could react and shoved him back by his jaw. She then reached down and took off her heel, brandishing it like a weapon before her.
"Don't you dare touch me again!" she screeched, her heel raised as a threat.
He looked at her in confusion, then rage. "I thought American women were supposed to be loose in their morals."
Her jaw dropped before her face reshaped in anger. "Apparently the only person with loose morals around here is you," she spat, going to grab the door handle to leave.
He snatched her wrist, keeping her from fleeing. "What if I don't want you to leave?" he asked, his voice husky as he leaned forward again.
She stared at him in horror. He was stronger than her. In every version of the situation, he had the control.
"He'll kill you," was all she said. It wasn't a warning. It was a statement. Her voice was almost trembling, but her words seemed to cast a blanket of protection over her.
Steven's eyes flashed, and he pulled back in realization. He looked at her for a long time, as if weighing the consequences of trying anything, but the thought of Will must've scared him, because he eventually turned back towards the windshield and barked at her, "Get out!"
She happily complied, not caring that it was a thirty minute walk back to the house. She was barely even halfway out of the car when he took off. The motion made lose her grip on her heel and fall to the dirt road, her shoe being whisked away with Steven and his car.
As soon as she could no longer see or hear the car, she got up, dusted herself off, took off her surviving shoe, and began down the road.
Throughout her impromptu hike back to the manor, she tried to think of what to tell Will about her appearance. The truth? A lie? Both had their pros and cons, so she just settled on trying to slip past him without having to say anything.
In her head, she pictured him chopping wood in the back of the house like he always did, her sneaking into her room while he was occupied.
The idea that he would be out front, working on his car, never appeared in her mind until her aching, panty-hosed feet stepped off of the dirt road and onto the stone driveway, spotting him.
For the second time that day, she froze.
He was leaned over the engine of his car, tinkering with something. He hadn't noticed her yet as she stood there, trying to rack her brain for any ideas on what to do.
She was halfway through planning an escape when he looked up and saw her.
His eyes raked over her ragged appearance, getting snagged on her dirty, slightly-ripped stockings and the lone heel clutched in her hand.
In one swift motion, he pushed off the the car and strode towards her. "Tell me what happened," he demanded, his features as hard as steel. "Where's Marguerite?" He looked around for any sign of her car. "Did she drop you off?"
Giselle sighed, shaking her head. "Marguerite wanted to have lunch with Jim Ludlow when we bumped into him—" she faltered, unprepared to finish the rest, but she pushed through, "—into him and Steven."
Will bristled like a cat, his green eyes visibly darkening. He took a step forward, staring down at her with a burning intensity. "Did he do anything?" he asked between gritted teeth.
"I'm fine," she told him, trying to slip past so she didn't have to finish the story. He shot out an arm to stop her and met her eyes once again.
"Love, I need you to tell me what happened," he said to her. His voice was wrought with tension, but she detected desperation there, too.
"He convinced me to let him take me home," she told him, all because he had said the magic word. Love. His back went ramrod straight, but she continued on. "Everything was fine until he pulled off to the side of the road." She averted her eyes. "Then he put his hand on my leg and—"
Will turned around, deadly silent as he crossed the distance to his car. She padded after him, frowning.
"Will? What are you doing?"
He said nothing, just silently fuming as he slammed the hood of his car down harder than he needed to and wrenched the door open.
She inserted herself in the doorway. "Will, don't do anything rash," she pleaded with him.
"Move, Giselle," he ordered, but when did that ever work on her? He didn't even use the magic word.
Giselle stayed in her spot. "No! You're gonna get yourself thrown in jail!"
"I don't care about that," he growled. "This is something I need to do."
"You don't need to do anything!" she threw back. "You didn't even let me finish my story! You don't know what he did!"
"I don't have to know," he snarled. "I can guess. And even if absolutely nothing happened, he still let you walk home by yourself. He deserves what's coming to him."
"But I'm fine," she told him, placing her palm on his chest to try and calm him. "Really, I'm alright. He just touched my leg and tried to kiss me, but I didn't let him. It's really not that bad. You don't need to do anything. I got here all in one piece."
"He still touched you, Giselle. Without your permission."
"But it didn't do me any harm," she countered. "I'm perfectly fine."
"None of this is fine!" he yelled, nearly rattling the windowpanes with the intensity of his voice. "He's not getting away with this. I'm not going to let him."
He started to move her aside, but she reached back and gripped the steering wheel, keeping herself anchored in place.
"Giselle," he seethed. "You need to move."
"No!" she protested. "I'm not letting you do this! He could press charges! Your reputation would be ruined!"
"Damnit, Giselle! I don't care about any of that! You're my woman and I need to defend you!"
"I am not your woman!" she spat at him. "You tried to make that very clear, remember?"
He let out a deep, throaty groan. "You're my woman as much as I am your man." He took a step closer to her. "You're my everything!" he yelled, unfazed by his own words.
Giselle stared at him coldly. "You can't say that, Will," she said, her voice hard in anger. "I can't be your anything. Not when you made me agree to move on from you."
"I know that," Will hissed. "Damnit, I know that."
"Then why are you saying these things?" she asked, her voice raspy with emotion. "They give me hope, you know. They make me feel like there's a chance for us."
"I know," Will breathed out. "I'm sorry, Elle, I just—I just can't make my heart and brain work in unison. They're at odds with each other."
The way he looked at her nearly broke Giselle. It was a look of love, of a love neither of them could have.
"I-I need to go," Giselle said suddenly, moving away from him and the car. "Please don't do anything I wouldn't want you to do," was the last thing she told him before she disappeared inside.
• — • — •
The next day, Giselle opened the door to see something she had never expected to see in her lifetime—Steven Sandoval on the front step of Dare Manor with an apologetic expression and a single, white heel in hand.
The sight stunned her so much that she even felt her jaw unhinge, words fumbling out. "Wh-what—what are you . . ?"
"I've come to apologize for my actions, Miss Saunders," Steven said formally. "What I did to you was abhorrent, and for that, I am terribly sorry." He presented her shoe towards her, like she was Cinderella and this was her missing glass slipper. "I do hope you find it in your heart to forgive me."
Giselle didn't provide a reply right away, her eyes looking over every feature of his face for any traces of sincerity.
She found some, but couldn't decide if it was genuine or not.
As much as she wanted to be petty and tell him all the places he could shove his apology, she caught herself.
Holding a grudge wouldn't benefit her as much as forgiving him would. True forgiveness gave peace, and could free a person from hostile emotions.
So, she took her shoe from his hand. "I forgive you," she told him earnestly.
Steven let out a breath of relief. "Good. Thank you." He shifted on his feet. "Um, have you told him?"
Giselle almost grinned at the shadow of fear on his face. "I have, but I also told him not to hunt you down and kill you like he was hellbent on doing."
Steven's eyes flashed at the words, his body tensing up. "Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath.
"But listen here, Steven," Giselle said, fire in her eyes as she took a step closer, "if I ever hear you do that or anything of the sort to another girl—I'll let him loose."
Steven nodded solemnly. "Right," he said, voice strained. He quickly cleared his throat and straightened. "Well, I should be leaving, now."
He didn't even have the chance to turn around when Will's car pulled up, the brakes screeching to a halt when Will caught sight of Steven Sandoval standing before Giselle through the windshield.
In the blink of an eye, Will's car was in park and he was shooting across the pavement with his eyes narrowed like a predator's on a prey.
"YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, SANDOVAL!" Will seethed. He had his hand around Steven's throat before Giselle could even react. "I could kill you for what you did." He shoved Steven up against the brick wall of the house, the intent to kill present in his eyes.
Steven sputtered and tried to pry Will's hand away from him, but Will was immovable.
"Will!" Giselle admonished, grabbing his arm. "Let go of him! I told you not to do this!"
Will glanced to Giselle before glaring back at Steven. He held onto the man's neck for a few more seconds before letting go.
"I could have you jailed for this!" Steven yelled, rubbing at his throat as he backed away.
Will grabbed the collar of his shirt, keeping him from leaving. "Go ahead, I don't care!" He smiled darkly. "In fact, if you do try to get me jailed, I'll just add to my sentence."
"You will not!" Giselle yelled. "Now, let him go. He only came to apologize to me."
"An apology isn't good enough," Will said through clenched teeth. "What you did cannot be fixed with an apology."
"An apology is fine, Will," Giselle said. "Seriously, I've already forgiven him."
"She did," Steven said. "She forgave me. You should, too."
Will stared at Steven for a long time before he laughed darkly. "Sure," he said, "I can forgive you. I am a good, Christian man, after all," he said with a sinister smile. "But I'll damn well never forget." The smile dropped, replaced by a cold scowl. He pressed Steven back against the bricks, his grip on the man's collar visibly tightening. "Don't give me any more reasons to want to bash your head in, because if anything like what you did to Giselle ever happens again, I won't think twice. Am I clear?"
Steven nodded mutely.
"Good," Will spat, letting go of Steven's collar. "Now leave."
He didn't have to tell the man twice. Steven scuttled away like a cockroach, getting into his car and peeling out of the driveway.
Will waited until he was gone before he turned to Giselle. "You're alright?"
She nodded, looking down at the heel she had in her hand. "I'm fine." She could feel him staring at her, prompting her to look up. "What?"
He turned away and rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Giselle," he started out, "this is—"
"Ellie!" a small voice called out, followed by the creaking hinges of the front door as Dorothy pried it open. "Come," she beckoned Giselle, her large, blue eyes beseeching her. "Come sing the rainbow song for nap time."
She moved forward and grabbed Giselle's hand, pulling her into the house.
Giselle gratefully let the girl lead her away from Will, for she wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear what he was going to say.
It seemed that every time they spoke recently, it ended in heartache.
She scooped up the little girl without looking back, perching her on her hip.
"Dorothy Joanne Dare, I'm pretty sure you just saved me from another heartbreaking conversation," she whispered into the little girls ear. "Now, let's get you to bed. And, yes, I'll sing the 'rainbow song.'"
• • • • • • • • • • •
Words: 3,788.
Question: Who is your least favorite character?
Another question: Have I already asked this question? It feels like I have but idk.
Honestly, I don't have a least favorite character. I kind of view them all as my children in a way, so I love them all the same.
Except for Marguerite and Will. They are my favorites. (Sorry, Giselle!)
PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT TO MAKE ME SMILE!!!