Holiday II

Bill liked holding a woman. He liked how her gentle scent and perfume filled his nostrils and feeling the warmth of her soft body close to his, so much softer, with curves that enticed his hands to caress. He liked that she found comfort in his embrace and trusted him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable with him, especially when she slept. He liked the feelings it stirred in him, how it stirred to protect and shelter her from anything that might cause her harm.

As the Costal Rail raced leisurely across the terrain of Caprica toward Qualai, he was basking in the privilege of holding a slumbering Laura Roslin in his lap. He watched her face, a cheek resting softly against his chest, his eyes mapping every little nuance that made up the increasingly familiar terrain.

His advanced years allowed him to find the beauty in and appreciate the marks of age. He took particular delight in the fine wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and mouth, testaments to the years of happiness she’d been blessed with before her family had been so cruelly ripped from her life. Bill wished she had more of them, hoped he could help add to them, bring her the happiness she deserved and needed.

Last night, she’d told him he’d made her feel real again. That confession had touched him and it had resonated with how she’d made him feel from that first night on. Real and alive, like his heart had broken free from a deep, long sleep that he’d thought would hold him the rest of his life.

For that alone, he would have adored her, and did. For it and all the other things, he cherished her. She was a gift, a treasure and to find what they had now, so late in their lives, it was simply extraordinary. He loved her very much.

Bringing his hand up, Bill lightly rested his hand against her cheek, held her tenderly, his thumb feathering over those delicate lines. She was so achingly beautiful to him in her vulnerability, stirring in him so many things, not the least of which was love.

He was looking forward to this next week with her, being together for no other reason than it was what they wanted. He wanted her to have fun, to laugh and smile. He wanted to show her the place he’d spent his earliest years.

Bill’s memories of that time were not plentiful, but they were vivid, as were memories of many visits made over the years, as a boy and teen, and as a man. He still tried to visit at least once a year, to refill his lungs with the sea air that had been his first breath, to see what had changed and what had not. There was something about the isolated sea town in his soul and bones, something that always called him back.

It hadn’t mattered to him where Laura wanted to spend the time they had, but he had been happy she chose Qualai. He wanted to see her there on the rock and sand shores, standing on the high, gray bluffs that overlooked the sometimes turbulent seas and in the mist of the morning. The ambers, golds and russets of her hair would be a startling contrast against the neutral palette of the environment around her, like the red and blue boats that milled in and out of the harbors at dawn, and the carpet of still-green winter grass.

Bill glanced at the digital ticker behind the attendants’ station along the west side of the car. It displayed information about travel progress, estimated times of arrival at the various stops along the way, as well as weather information and the time. Noting the latter, Bill looked out the window. The light of day had begun to slowly wane as late afternoon approached and heavier rains began to fall.

They had only a few hours more remaining before they were in Qualai, with only one more stop between, Antioche. Laura had slept through the previous two, stirring only slightly when the rail pulled into stations in the hamlets of Corinthe and Asine, her eyes opening just enough to see him, then close when he told her to go back to sleep.

He didn’t mind her resting. She’d had a full day of work yesterday then the solstice gala last night, which had gone much later than he’d expected, and then he’d woken her desperately early this morning. She was clearly tired and he would rather her recoup her energy with a nap now, so that he could take her out to dinner when they reached their destination. There were two reasons. One, he wanted to take her to his favorite seaside pub. Two, they were going to have to do some shopping before they could eat in, the house having been cleared of food before Paulo had taken his family to their southern home for the winter.

Paulo was a longtime friend. They’d met in the Fleet Academy and become friends after discovering their common birthplace, but Paulo had washed out due to health issues while Bill went on to pilot vipers and eventually command battlestars. It had turned out for the best in the end, Paulo’s gift for engineering leading to an education at a prestigious technical university and then a series of inventions that eventually made him among Caprica’s wealthiest, and certainly Qualai’s wealthiest native son. They’d remained in contact over the years and met from time to time at the pub in Qualai and shared a couple of beers and stores.

When Bill had called Paulo, asked if he knew of rental properties, Paulo had just laughed and said, he’d send Bill keys to “his place,” inform the cleaning and service staff who kept the place up while he was away, and provided the address. Bill was grateful. He usually just grabbed a room at a small end or bed and breakfast but he wanted both privacy and a view of the sea, neither of which was truly found in those accommodations. Bill didn’t know what to expect of Paulo’s home since he’d never been there, but with what the man made, it could very well be a mansion. Bill somehow doubted it, though, recalling sharing drinks once with the man as he waxed poetically about his “quaint little house overlooking the sea.”

They would find out soon enough, Bill supposed, his gaze returning to the woman in his arms. She still slept, her expression entirely content. With a smile, he moved his hand to her leg then leaned his cheek against her brow and closed his own eyes. He dozed off at some point, but woke when he felt the train slow, the change in inertia slight at first but enough to register with his senses, honed by years aboard battlestars vessels where acceleration and deceleration were virtually undetectable to anyone other than space veterans.

As the train pulled into the station, Bill woke Laura, saying her name softly, but loud enough to penetrate the haze of sleep. She stirred in his arms, with a sigh at first, then a deep inhale as she stretched. He smiled. That’s what he had in mind.

“We’re in Antioche,” he informed her. “Thought we might get up and stretch our legs.”

“Mmmm, sounds good,” she said, her voice soft with the fading tendrils of sleep. She eased out of his lap then and he put his hands at her waist, steadying her as she regained her feet.

He rose behind her, as she stepped to the side, stretched her arms and yawned. “We’ll be at this stop for about half an hour if you wanna walk around, get some fresh air.”

“That sounds even better,” she said with a smile.

They exited the train and went into the station. First stop was the lavatory. They could have used the one on the train, but Laura said she’d rather have “a normal-size stall” this time. Bill had laughed at that then ducked into the men’s room.

Once done, Bill went over to the newsstand and picked up a copy of the day’s paper to help pass the time in the last segment of their trek. They hadn’t had a chance to read it since they’d left so early this morning. If he’d thought about it, he’d have just brought her delivered copy instead of setting it just inside her front door before closing and locking it behind them.

While Bill was paying for the paper, Laura caught up with him. He led her outside then, onto a covered observation deck, where they spent a few minutes breathing in the cold and damp salt air and watching and listening to the waves. It was invigorating but soon too much for Laura, her light sweater not nearly enough against the wind swirling in the balcony, so they re-boarded the train and found their way back to their seat.

Bill requested coffees for them and the attendants brought them over as he opened the paper. He handed her the political section and she started to take it then paused. He watched her just look at the paper, as if having some internal debate, then shake her head and withdraw her hand.

“Vacation,” she said with a resolve that made him smile. He set that section over the arm of the lounger then asked her what she wanted. “Give me fluff,” she replied, and he turned over the society, fashion, and entertainment sections to her. He kept the sports for himself, and general news, and they both read as the train pulled out of the station and continued its journey northward.

Bill was halfway through the latest pyramid scores when Laura touched his arm. He looked over to see her holding the paper where he could see what had caught her attention. There, in full color on the society pages, was a picture of them at the winter solstice gala. It wasn’t the main picture, but amongst a collage of pictures of the governors-elect and other guests for the event.

He smiled, taking in the image of her in her finery and he in his dress uniform — the picture was shot just after they’d exited the black service car, Laura was smiling at him, and he at her. In his opinion, they looked good together, but he admitted he was wholly biased on that point. One thing was certain, he wanted to clip that picture to take with him back to the ship. He told her so and she gave him an amused look.

“Going to put it on your wall?” she asked.

He shook his head. “My desk.”

She actually looked a little surprised at his answer, said softly, “Really?”

Bill wasn’t sure if her question hinted at a positive or negative opinion on the plan. He hadn’t thought she would object, but he knew putting her picture on his desk signaled something that, he conceded, she might not be ready for, that he might be getting ahead of himself on where they were. He couldn’t help it, though. He loved her. She was a part of his life as far as he was concerned and he would love to have a picture of her on his desk as a surrogate companion when they were apart.

To determine if she was troubled by the notion, he replied, “Yeah,” then offered, “If that’s okay?”

He watched her expression grow tender then heard her reply on a breath as his heart raced.

“Yes, Bill. I’d like that.”

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