Status: Completed!
Starting Over
1947.
1947
Back in 1947, when Eleanor was barely twenty years old, she met a charming young man named Fenton. He was two years older than her and lived down by the ocean in Monterey. He had moved away from his parents to become an aspiring artist. It had always been his passion. And where was a better place to paint than near a beach in California?
Eleanor had been late for lunch with her fiancé on the 27th of June, 1947. Her hair was a mess of frizzy, somewhat put together curls that flapped in her eyes whenever she walked. But since she didn’t have time to fix the strawberry blonde disarray of locks on top of her head, she continued on her way, tromping through the streets.
Her knee-length dress was perfect in that era. Some might consider it conservative now, but back then, it was edgy. It was a black and white polka dot dress that hugged her snugly, and made her look, and feel, gorgeous.
It happened fifteen and a half minutes after noon.
Eleanor knew where she was going, but she wasn’t really paying any attention to her surroundings. She was an inevitable train wreck just waiting to be caught off guard. She was about to reach the cute little café that her fiancé, Robert, would insist on going to every week, when she ran into a man just as uncoordinated as her.
It had been an accident, really. Eleanor was finally calm enough that she could fix her bangs. She was so occupied, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the stand of newspapers in front of her. Eleanor had managed to realign her soft blonde curls when she looked up and collided into the post that was filled with recent news that would be disregarded the next day.
The two strangers fell to the ground with a thump. Eleanor cried out promptly, but quickly regained her posture and stood up.
The man, who looked a couple years older than her, had an empathetic expression on his face as he dusted himself off and got up as well.
“Sorry about that,” he said, his rich accent pouring out as obnoxiously clear as day. Normally, Eleanor would scoff and walk away. With this man, however, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard his deep, soft voice and gazed at the light features on his face. She smiled then, her plump lips forming faded wrinkles at both ends.
“Oh, no worries. I’m quite uncoordinated, as you can see,” she said, directing to what had just occurred.
The man chuckled, tipping his head back and letting his chest fall. His laugh was splendid and appeasing, compelling Eleanor to cherish every moment she had with him. She couldn’t quite point it out, but there was something about this man that made her feel happy. Maybe it was his confidence, or his demeanor. Or it could have been the way he let his hair grow out, a style that people frowned upon. It wasn’t classy or fashionable. But it somehow screamed him.
The man took one last glance at Eleanor and stretched out his big, welcoming hand. “I’m Fenton. Fenton Burke,” he said with a boldness that almost made him seem arrogant. Eleanor nodded and took his hand in hers. She noted the way his fingers slid ever so gracefully over hers, and the slight chills she had at the base of her neck.
“Eleanor,” she said simply, not bothering a last name.
“Eleanor. What a beautiful name,” Fenton complimented, noticing how she blushed the instant the words flowed out of his mouth.
The two stared at each other for quite some time, taking in the other’s appearance and bearing. It was almost strange the way they talked. Eleanor felt so uncomfortable. She never put herself in situations where she’d have to converse with a stranger. She was shy in that aspect.
“Well, I’d better get going,” she said quickly, not bothering to state why.
“Fair enough. Will I see you around?” Fenton asked. He didn’t know why he had probed around like that. Usually when he ran into people he hadn’t met, he would say a couple of words and then be on his merry way. But with her, with Eleanor, a whole new experience was beginning. He felt unfamiliar with the events that were going on. But somehow, he enjoyed her presence.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, trying to get to the restaurant. “But maybe. Goodbye Fenton.”
She smiled at him and waved before turning to the right and walking down the avenue. Fenton watched as her feet clanked together and her hair bobbed this way and that. He smiled, chuckling a bit to himself, gazing at her until she rounded the corner and was gone.
And that was the day Fenton Burke knew he had to have Eleanor.
Back in 1947, when Eleanor was barely twenty years old, she met a charming young man named Fenton. He was two years older than her and lived down by the ocean in Monterey. He had moved away from his parents to become an aspiring artist. It had always been his passion. And where was a better place to paint than near a beach in California?
Eleanor had been late for lunch with her fiancé on the 27th of June, 1947. Her hair was a mess of frizzy, somewhat put together curls that flapped in her eyes whenever she walked. But since she didn’t have time to fix the strawberry blonde disarray of locks on top of her head, she continued on her way, tromping through the streets.
Her knee-length dress was perfect in that era. Some might consider it conservative now, but back then, it was edgy. It was a black and white polka dot dress that hugged her snugly, and made her look, and feel, gorgeous.
It happened fifteen and a half minutes after noon.
Eleanor knew where she was going, but she wasn’t really paying any attention to her surroundings. She was an inevitable train wreck just waiting to be caught off guard. She was about to reach the cute little café that her fiancé, Robert, would insist on going to every week, when she ran into a man just as uncoordinated as her.
It had been an accident, really. Eleanor was finally calm enough that she could fix her bangs. She was so occupied, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the stand of newspapers in front of her. Eleanor had managed to realign her soft blonde curls when she looked up and collided into the post that was filled with recent news that would be disregarded the next day.
The two strangers fell to the ground with a thump. Eleanor cried out promptly, but quickly regained her posture and stood up.
The man, who looked a couple years older than her, had an empathetic expression on his face as he dusted himself off and got up as well.
“Sorry about that,” he said, his rich accent pouring out as obnoxiously clear as day. Normally, Eleanor would scoff and walk away. With this man, however, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard his deep, soft voice and gazed at the light features on his face. She smiled then, her plump lips forming faded wrinkles at both ends.
“Oh, no worries. I’m quite uncoordinated, as you can see,” she said, directing to what had just occurred.
The man chuckled, tipping his head back and letting his chest fall. His laugh was splendid and appeasing, compelling Eleanor to cherish every moment she had with him. She couldn’t quite point it out, but there was something about this man that made her feel happy. Maybe it was his confidence, or his demeanor. Or it could have been the way he let his hair grow out, a style that people frowned upon. It wasn’t classy or fashionable. But it somehow screamed him.
The man took one last glance at Eleanor and stretched out his big, welcoming hand. “I’m Fenton. Fenton Burke,” he said with a boldness that almost made him seem arrogant. Eleanor nodded and took his hand in hers. She noted the way his fingers slid ever so gracefully over hers, and the slight chills she had at the base of her neck.
“Eleanor,” she said simply, not bothering a last name.
“Eleanor. What a beautiful name,” Fenton complimented, noticing how she blushed the instant the words flowed out of his mouth.
The two stared at each other for quite some time, taking in the other’s appearance and bearing. It was almost strange the way they talked. Eleanor felt so uncomfortable. She never put herself in situations where she’d have to converse with a stranger. She was shy in that aspect.
“Well, I’d better get going,” she said quickly, not bothering to state why.
“Fair enough. Will I see you around?” Fenton asked. He didn’t know why he had probed around like that. Usually when he ran into people he hadn’t met, he would say a couple of words and then be on his merry way. But with her, with Eleanor, a whole new experience was beginning. He felt unfamiliar with the events that were going on. But somehow, he enjoyed her presence.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, trying to get to the restaurant. “But maybe. Goodbye Fenton.”
She smiled at him and waved before turning to the right and walking down the avenue. Fenton watched as her feet clanked together and her hair bobbed this way and that. He smiled, chuckling a bit to himself, gazing at her until she rounded the corner and was gone.
And that was the day Fenton Burke knew he had to have Eleanor.
♠ ♠ ♠
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