Wavering Mollisher

The Workshop

“What?!” Caroline whirls around, worried that Della’s father had heard what she said.  Della hears Charles’s voice from the door, chatting with one of the neighbors.

“Do you think he heard?” Della looks over at Caroline, panic beginning to set in.

“I don’t think so,” Caroline assures her.

 A moment later, Charles enters the workshop, a smile lining his face. Della didn’t even want to imagine what her father would do if he knew the truth about Catherine.

“Why, Caroline! I didn’t know you would be visiting!” Charles beams at the blonde woman. “Visiting Della, I presume? The two of you are becoming quite close, eh?” 

“Hello, Mr. Delacroix, what a delight to see you. I suppose I have grown quite close to Della.” Charles couldn’t possibly know in what ways the two women have grown closer.

“I’m glad you girls are getting along. Della didn’t have many friends growing up.” Charles places a large plastic bag on the table.

“Father!” Della's cheeks flare at the mention of her lack of friends. “That is not something you need to share!”

“Is it not? I doubt Caroline would like you less.” Charles begins to unload items from the bag.

Caroline winks over at redhead. “You are correct about that, Mr. Delacroix.”

“Oh Della, I found borax- the chemical we discussed earlier in the week. The seller precautioned me about how dangerous it is to touch with bare hands.” Charles hands Della a heavy aluminum can.

Della grabs the can from Charles’s hand and places it near a rusted wheel. “I will handle it with gloves, I promise. Thank you, papa.”

“I do have a favor to ask. When you start the process of de-rusting, would you mind if I join? I would like to see the process.” Charles places paintbrushes next to the borax.

“Of course. Perhaps tomorrow?” Della suggests.

“It’s a deal. Now I will leave you to your chat.” Charles exits the small apartment.

“Oh! Mr. Delacroix, I believe Mr. Clarke is in the kitchen. He was checking on you and Della. He told me he would wait.” Caroline yells after him.

“Ah, well, I shall not keep him waiting.” Charles disappears into the flat.

Della whirls on Caroline. “Lucas is still here?”

“Yes, why?” 

“No reason.” Della slides her protective glasses back on her nose. 

“Are you mad at him?” Caroline prods Della for more information.

“No, It’s just…complicated.” Della slips on some thick leather gloves.

“Maybe you two need to chat?  He was upset that you asked for me instead of him.” Caroline plays peacemaker, hoping that Della will listen to reason.

“Trust is earned, Lina. So far, all I know about Lucas Clarke is how he dominates in bed.” Della dips in a rag in the phosphoric acid.

“Really, Dell. I didn’t need to know that!” Caroline mock gags. Della shrugs as she begins wiping an old cog.

“Just give him a chance?” Caroline begs. 

“Fine! Can I start my task now?” Della rudely asks. “I need to prepare the wheel for the chemical test tomorrow.”

“Sure. But first…” Caroline wraps her arms around Della’s waist and pulls her into her chest. Della moans in contentment and turns her neck slightly to meet Caroline’s eyes.  Caroline’s eyes light up at Della’s beautiful face, and she slants her lips on Della’s. The kiss starts gentle and tender, but it quickly turns passionate when Della leans her head up to deepen the kiss. After several blissful moments enjoying their kiss, Caroline pulls away and kisses Della’s forehead.

“Let’s get dinner some time,” Caroline recommends. 

“Like a date?” The excitement in Della begins to rise at the thought of having an intimate evening with Caroline.

Caroline smiles. “I suppose we can call it a date.”

Della spends the next hour in the workshop, using the phosphoric acid to wipe the rust off the wheel. Amazingly, the rust seems to fade with hard scrubbing, and all Della is left to do is wipe off the remainder with a warm wet cloth. She admires her handiwork as a large shadow joining her.

“Looks good.” Lucas’s deep voice comes from above.

“Father saves the day.” Della happily smiles.

“Della, can we chat?” Lucas asks after a moment of silence.

Della furrows her eyebrows and removes her leather gloves. “About what?”

“Everything.” Lucas sighs.  Della looks up at his chiseled face. Gods, Lucas’s smile can melt her into a puddle! Della turns her head to avoid his sapphire eyes.

“Okay.” She croaks.

Lucas sits in her work chair. “Tell me about you. Have you lived in Merryville all your life? Why aren’t you married?”

Della swallows the scoff that threatens to bubble up. She is sure he didn’t mean any offense by asking about her marital status. “Yes, my father moved our family here before I was born. I guess being 22 would raise questions as to my marital status? I didn’t want marriage. I know society asks that young ladies find a suitable husband by 18, but I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. Mother wasn’t too happy. She had already lined potential suitors for my eighteenth birthday. Papa supported my decision, and I can only imagine what would have happened had a mother. Ladies are supposed to be wives and mothers, you know.” Della rolls her eyes at the statement.

“Not necessarily,” Lucas mumbles under his breath.

Della continues as if she didn’t hear his muttering. “I’m sorry I’m not complaining about my privileged life. I grew up with two loving parents, educated in a wealthy community. “

Lucas smiles at how Della’s face glowed when she talked about her family. How could Della not know how beautiful she is? Or how adorable she is when she scrunches her face in thought? “Can I ask you something? When you tripped over me that day, why were you rude? It seemed like you were trying to impress your mother.”

Della sadly nods at the mention of Catherine. “I regret that day. I was horrible to you based on your social status, and after moving here to the outskirts, I have felt like a right arse.  I guess I was trying to impress or imitate my mother. I grew up with her limited vision of the world. Anyone who lived in poverty-stricken communities was undesirables, peasants. I always thought she was wrong; I just loved her so much that I had to keep up her pretense.”

Lucas leans back in the chair. “I grew up with the same mindset.”

Della chuckles, imagining a time where Lucas Clarke looked down on residents of the outskirts. “And yet, here you are. Your fortune was donated to this community. You care about the people who live here. What changed?”

Lucas strokes his chin. “My friend. I had a friend who lost his parents early. He was declared an orphan and exiled to live here. I was forbidden to hang out with him. The Upper-class didn’t associate with the lower class. That’s what my parents told me every day. The funny thing is, he was the same old boy except without money. When I turned 18, I ran away from my parents’ home and came to find him. He died from the consumption a couple of years prior. Interestingly enough, the Upper-Class community knew of his ailment and did nothing to help. Perhaps that’s the reason I kidnap members from that community, to punish the community that hurt him and gives their fortune to the people the Upper-Class hate.”

Della was leaning against the wood worktable, intently hanging on Lucas’s s story. She feels his pain at the mention of his friend’s unfortunate circumstance. Her heart cries for Lucas’s loss. “Lucas, I’m sorry. I honestly had no idea about your friend. I could never imagine the community being so cruel.”

Lucas’s face breaks into a soft smile. He walks slowly towards her. Della doesn’t back away from his approaching figure. Instead, she opens her body to him so Lucas can come closer. Lucas smiles at her sweet gesture, leaning down to peck her lips. “Thank you.” He whispers against her soft skin.