Claires Awakening 2 Claire Cleans up
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Forever Claire, Chapter 3 free porn video
Chapter 3
"I hope the thunder doesn't wake the boys," Meggie O'Hara said as she
lit the candle on the table.
"I know ma, but I like it when it rains," Charlie said. "It sounds so
soothing when it hits the roof."
His mother smiled.
"Let me look at your handywork," she said, admiring the socks Charlie
was knitting.
Charlie loved knitting time. He and ma would settle down in the family's
two rockers, both brought from Ireland. Robert, Samuel and Eli were
always sound asleep.
Lucas and pa were working late at the mill. If pa knew Charlie and his
mother still had "knitting time", he would be furious. He didn't want
any of his sons doing "women's work", although he allowed Charlie to
help out his mother doing her chores.
"That's very good," she said. "Grandma Sullivan would say you've
inherited the family the family gift."
His great-grandma Sullivan had a dress shop in Dublin. Each mother in
the family felt like it was her duty to pass down the talent to her
daughters. It was that way for generations.
"I have no daughter, so I'm passing it down to you," his mother said. "I
want you to pass it down to your own daughter, so the chain will not be
broken."
Charlie blushed. He loved hearing about family history, especially the
women of the family. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt some kind
of connection to them.
And knitting time was also a time Meggie O'Hara liked to talk about
"woman things."
"You are the only one in this family who appreciates such thin gs," she
told Charlie.
She enjoyed listening to Charlie talk about his first-day adventure at
Windham manor. She told him she wished she had a garden like the one he
and Mrs. Windham worked on.
She also told him she was envious of the bath he took.
"Most women here would kill to have a bath like that," she said. "You're
father would have been furious to have smelled the perfume you had on.
Charlie blushed again.
"Ma, am I different?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" she said, although she had an idea what was going on
in his head.
"Well, pa calls me little Charlotte because I like to help you with your
chores," he said. "I like knitting time....I liked the bath at Madame
Windham's and she said I was almost too pretty to be a boy. And I don't
know if I really act like a boy."
His mother at first didn't know what to say.
"Come here," she said. She led him to her bedroom. She pulled a trunk
out from underneath the bed.
He knew the trunk contained her personal belongings, most of which she
brought over from Ireland.
His eyes opened wide when she opened it.
"Beatrice!" he said, pulling a doll out from the trunk. "I thought you
threw her away!"
He hugged her close. Beatrice was his mother's doll. She made the
journey across the ocean. Charlie played with the doll when he was
little. He loved her.
But his father didn't want him to play with it. He ordered his wife to
throw the doll away, which was something she could not do.
"Are you different?" she said with a smile. "No, I'd say you're special,
Charlie John O'Hara. God made you a beautiful child, inside and out. You
are my son, sweet boy, but at times, I think of you as my daughter."
Charlie was stunned. He didn't quite know what to say.
"Are you angry at me for saying that?" she said as she brushed his hair
out of his face.
He shook his head no. She had never forced him to like women's things,
or to do women's work, as his father called it. It was something that
seemed natural to him.
"I'm glad you don't," she said. "That was the reason I passed the
knitting skill down to you. It is the reason that everything in this
trunk must be passed on to you."
It contained a locket. Her diary that he didn't know she had. It
contained jewelry that had been passed down from generations.
She put the locket around his neck. In it were portraits of his
grandmother and his mother when she was a little girl.
"Wear it under your clothes so your father won't see it," she said. "You
know how she is."
Charlie hugged Beatrice before placing her back in the trunk. His mother
smiled when Charlie gave the doll a kiss.
*****
"Is something bothering you? You seem a little distracted today?" Mrs.
Windham asked Charlie while they worked in the garden.
"No ma'am," he said as he hoed the dirt row. He couldn't possibly tell
her of his conversation with his mother the night before. But he coul
dn't get the thoughts out of his head.
"What is that beautiful thing hanging from your neck?" she asked,
noticing the locket.
"It's a locket my ma gave me," he said as she grabbed it to look at the
portraits inside.
"It's too beautiful to be wearing when we're out here with all of this
dirt," she said. "Go take it to Mirilla and tell her to put it up for
you."
"Yes ma'am," he said as he ran up to the house.
"I'll put it on the dresser in Emily's room," she said. "You can put it
back on after your bath."
"That didn't take you very long," Mrs. Windham said after Charlie ran
back to return to his work.
He enjoyed listening to Mrs. Windham's plans for the garden. She talked
about constructing a gazebo and hiring a band to play concerts for the
community near the fountain.
Charlie liked the idea. No one in town really knew what beauty lied
within the gates of her state.
=0 A
"Well, I guess we are finished for the day," she said.
Charlie was disappointed. They were finishing way too early. He wasn't
ready to go back to the slum.
"Charlie, take those flowers, will you?" she said. "And follow me."
They walked over to the family graveyard. She had him place some of the
flowers on her late husband's grave. They placed the rest on Emily's
grave. He looked at the dates. His mother was right, she was his age
when she died.
"Emily Windham, March 23, 1850-May 1, 1862. Beloved daughter and angel."
"She must have been very special, ma'am," he said.
Mrs. Windham smiled.
"Yes she was very special to me," she said. "Just as I know you are to
you're mother and to me."
"To you?" he said. He couldn't help but think he had only known her a
few days.
"I think an angel led King George through those gates," she said with a
laugh. "Because the angel knew you would come."
"I never thought of it that way," Charlie said.
She grabbed his hand as they walked up toward the house.
"Charlie, what do you want to be when you grow up?" she asked him.
"I dunno," he said. "I thought about being a soldier. My uncle John is
in the Irish Brigade fighting against the rebels."
"You might make a good soldier," she said. "Hopefully, the war will be
over before you are old enough to join."
"My pa said I will work at the mill like he and Lucas," he said. "But I
don't want to do that. But my pa picks on me. He says I'm going to be a
dress maker like my great-grandma Sullivan."
"And what's wrong with being a dressmaker?" she said. "They make a lot
of money in New York, Boston...or Paris."
"I dunno, I never thought about it," he said. "But my ma says I have the
family gift."
He went on to explain how he and his ma have their special knitting
night.
"Emily and I had nights like that, too," she said as they entered the
house.
"His bath is drawn ma'am," Mirilla said. "Helen has yours drawn, too."
*****
"I'm glad you're not giving me any trouble this time," Mirilla said as
Charlie handed her his work clothes. He felt a little chilled as before
he hopped into the tub. But once he crawled in, he felt nic e and warm.
"I swear, you got dirty today," Mirilla said as she scrubbed his behind
his ears. She made sure his neck got a good scrubbing. Then came his
arms. He was a bit surprised as she worked on his hands.
"Those gloves must work pretty good," she said, admiring his hands.
"Your hands are as delicate as a girl."
Charlie blushed again.
"I didn't embarrass you, did I?" she asked.
"Oh, maybe a little," he said.
"We'll work on those feet when we get you out of the tub," Mirilla said.
Charlie was even more embarrassed when Mrs. Windham walked into the room
wearing a house coat as he crawled out and before Mirillia could place a
towel around him.
"I want you to put this on our little urchin," she said, handing Mirilla
a bottle of lotion.
"I bought it in Paris," Mrs. Windham told Charlie. "It's supposed to
make your sk in feel soft and smooth. We both need it after working in
the garden. It also smells good."
She then reached into the closet and pulled out a sailor suit.
"I was wrong when I told you the work pants were the only trousers Emily
wore," she told Mirilla. "I had forgotten about this. Put it on Charlie
and have him me in the parlor."
Charlie giggled as Mirilla lotioned his body and then put powder on him.
"Oh no ma'am, I'm not wearing that," he said as Mirilla pulled some of
Emily's undergarments out of the closet. He didnE2t know what it was
called, he just saw it once in a catalog. His mother called it "rich
girl's undergarments."
Mirilla laughed.
"Your longjohns will look silly under the sailor suit," Mirilla said.
"This will be under the sailor suit, so no one else can see."
He stared at himself in the mirror.
"Lucas and pa would be really mad at me now," he thought.
Mirilla also gave him what appeared to be a pair of white stockings. She
was right. The undergarment was hidden under the sailor suit. The
britches were a little "poofed" out, he thought and came down only to
his knees. That's why Mirilla gave him the white stockings.
She also pulled out a pair of shiny black shoes with buckles and told
him to put them on.
"There," she said. "You look like a prince."
Charlie felt more like a princess as she walked him to the parlor, where
he sat until Mrs. Windham finished getting dressed. She walked in
looking really fancy. She was carrying a straw hat and a book of poetry.
She placed the hat on his head and grabbed his hand. They walked onto
the porch and down the walkway to the garden. She handed him the book.
Inscribed were the words: "To Claire, with love, mother."
"My grandmother gave this to my aunt Claire," she said. "We're going to
use it to help you learn to read and speak properly."
Mirilla brought them both lemonade as Charlie struggled to read the
poetry to Mrs. Windham.
*****
Charlie stared at the nice French dress as he was about to get back into
his old clothes. He hadn't taken off Emily's undergarments yet. Truth be
known, he dreaded putting back on the longjohns and his old rags.
The door was shut. The temptation was a little hard to resist.
"Who will know?" he thought as he pulled the dress on over the "rich
girl's undergarments."
He stood in front of the mirror. He liked what he saw. It was a very
beautiful dress, one his mother had told him about many times that rich
girls wore.
He didn't notice the door slide open.
"Oh my!" were the words he heard Mrs. Windham say.
He was frightened. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't run out of the
room, so he ran into the closet and sat down.
"I'm so sorry," he cried, tears rolling down his face. "I won't do it
again! I know you won't let me come back!"
"Charlie, my darling, open this door!" Mrs. Windham said.
Mirilla rushed in, wanting to know what was the matter.
They both picked Charlie up and placed him on the bed. Mrs. Windham
pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from his face.
She smiled and hugged him. She tapped her finger on his nose.
"Do not apologize," she said, trying to reassure him. "I think it looks
very beautiful on you. Unfortunately, you've got to get your clothes
back on. It's time to take you home."
*****
The carriage ride was a quiet one back home. Charlie was still very
embarrassed by what had happened.
Mrs. Windham tried to reassure him there was nothing wrong, that she
wasn't. She rode home with him and held his hand most of the way.
"You won't tell anyone?" he asked.
"Of course not, darling, your secret is safe with me," she said.
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