i danced with you ONCE UPON DREAM; clyde

[brooke marie sawyer]

I ' V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.

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Brooke stood in front of that old farmhouse with a fond smile on her face. A little over an hour ago, she told the girls at her store that she had a meeting then was taking an extended lunch. Really, Brooke’s meeting had been cancelled last minute and she wasn’t very hungry. What Brooke wanted and needed was to see her childhood home she hadn’t set foot in for fourteen years.

No one lived in it as her family still owned it; it had been her grandparents years prior and before her grandmother’s death they had lived here with her. When she was little, Brooke used to run through the sunflowers and peek over to see what goodies were being harvested that year. Since her grandmother’s death though, her parents didn’t want to keep hiring people to farm. So they were all compensated for three months and a maid was hired to come turn the house over once a month and someone to make sure all the pipes and wiring were fine as well as a few other carpentry related things. It was a little sad to Brooke as this had once been a happy place to be.

Her heels clicked against the wood as she climbed onto the porch, her hands running fondly over the old porch swing. Brooke remembered the summer nights watching the fireflies as her grandmother read her a story before she was soundly tucked into bed. ”The initials are still there…” The initials she referred to were those of her and a boy she barely remembered-a childhood sweetheart-carved into the arm of the swing. Though she had the key, she still wanted just a few more moments out on that swing. The cushions was tucked away somewhere, but Brooke settled onto the faded white swing with a strained creak from the old chains. After a moment to have everything settled, she gently used one heel clad foot to swing her body back and forth.

Brooke had grown up on a military base after leaving here. Her father was a Marine and her mother an elementary school teacher, with a vacation job working in a store. Brooke’s life had been a comfortable and slightly charmed one, though she always missed the town she knew from her more carefree days.

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tagged;; clyde
word count;; three-hundred eighty-three
outfit;; classic style
notes;; a small town girl
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[clyde duncan brooks]

It was too cold yet for his motorcycle. The salt on the roads from slick winter mornings hadn't yet disintegrated, so it'd be bad for the Harley Davidson anyway. So Clyde had been reduced to driving his father's old Ford truck around. He would've rather had his own Chevy, but his mother had insisted it be driven around at least once a week so, 'They'd get their money's worth'. The truck was old, to say the very least. The blue paint had peeled at the door hinges and the muffler had been reduced to a scrap piece of metal long ago. Needless to say, it was loud. Clyde didn't mind too much, though. Driving it reminded him of when he was little and his father had just bought the F-150. They'd taken the back roads all the way home, testing hairpin curves and two second stops.

That was one of his favorite memories of the old man. That was before he got sick. Clyde could vaguely recall being nervous as his father lit up cigarette after cigarette on that day, coughing up some disgusting mucus before turning to his son and saying, "Hey, it's alright. I'm fine." Only he wasn't. Clyde could still smell the stale smoke in the truck. He started the engine, the Ford roaring to life in his parent's driveway. His mom wanted a few things from the store and he'd been meaning to find a new pair of work boots. He shifted the truck into gear and rolled down one of the windows. Although it was probably a little cold in his blue and black flannel, Clyde always liked the window down. The rush of air was just exhilarating. One black book stepped on the gas while the other released the clutch and he was off, stirring up dust in the gravel driveway.

A little way up the road, he came across the old-- er, rather, well groomed Sawyer place. Clyde had always kept a watch ever since they'd left. The only people that seemed to be parked by it were maids or the occasional electrical or plumbing guy. But this car certainly wasn't one of those people. He didn't really know what ran through his mind-- burglars, lost tourists, criminals-- but something made him stop. He hopped out of the truck, eying down whoever was now swinging on the porch swing. Sticking his a hand into one of his Wrangler jean pockets, he began walking up to the house. "Hey," Clyde said, southern drawl coming through with a stern tone. "That's private property, y'know."

[brooke marie sawyer]

I ' V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.

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When she was a little girl, there was always Brooke’s family and the boy from down the road. It’s how her life went about…she’d spend her days into the evenings playing with her friend Clyde and then spend the nights relaxing with her family. Sometime’s their families had gotten together and it was fun; but Sunday’s was always strictly family time. The smile of memories past rested on her face as she blinked back tears of mixed emotions. She was glad to be in her hometown, but upset that her parents had never thought to come back sooner or that after her grandmother’s death, they were quick to go back to Virginia. Brooke wanted that happiness she had so long ago in her grasp again and she was slowly finding her way back.

Brooke’s head only turned slightly at the sound of the truck. As it pulled in, she figured it was probably whoever her parents paid to overlook the place so her gaze traveled back to the door. There was a lump as she tried to gather up her emotions so she could go back through the rooms in her childhood home. Her arm rested across the arm rest of the swing, her thumb grazing over the worn initials that were carved in and wouldn’t fade with any amount of paint. That young boy had made sure of it over fifteen years prior.

With the sound of a rougher voice of a man, Brooke’s head turned to look back at the man. She didn’t recognize him-no way she could since she hadn’t been here for years and only had been back for two-so not like he would know who she was either. In her hand that she gripped the key, Brooke held it up in plain sight and nodded her head. ”I know. My family owns this property.” She clutched her fingers around them as she let a warm smile spread across her lips. Reluctantly she got up from the swing and went to stand at the top of the stairs. ”I’m Brooke Winslet. Do you know who it is that keeps up the house? I want to talk to them about a few things.” She didn’t have the number and was unable to get a hold of her parents. Where Brooke was debating on restoring the house even more and possibly living there, she wanted to know if there was any renovations she needed to take care of.

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tagged;; clyde
word count;; four-hundred ten
outfit;; classic style
notes;; a small town girl
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[clyde duncan brooks]

Oh he'd had memories of this house. Very vague as the rest of his memories were, spending time here really stuck out. His parents had let him run down the street to play with the girl that lived here. What was her name again? He couldn't really remember at the moment. What Clyde did remember was their, summer romance, thing. Or rather, the milestone in his young boy life. He'd kissed the girl. Right there, on that porch, as he seemed to recall. It'd been just a little peck, but... it was big. Bigger than he'd imagined that it would be. They were 'boyfriend-girlfriend' for the rest of summer, until suddenly, the girl had up and left. Clyde couldn't even remember if he'd gotten to say bye to her.

So whoever this girl was on the porch, their porch, she would have to leave. What made her think she could just plop down there? He was defensive about this house, his family being given the responsibility to watch over it. Plus, it always held a special place in his heart. Before things had gotten hard, before his dad died, before his mother became weak, there was this place. His small glimpse of what it was like to be care-free. He stood in the middle of the walkway, trying not to seem like a complete asshole, but really wishing that the woman would just move on to her next destination.

Clyde arched his eyebrow, looking from the key in her hand to her. "Your family?" he asked, seeming skeptical. They hadn't been back to check on the place in ages. But this girl seemed to know what she was talking about. She probably wasn't a criminal on the run looking for a place. "Brooke? I'm Clyde, my family just down the road watches over it. But we dunno who really takes care of it. We just make sure that it is kept up," he said, offering a shrug. He was sure that his mom had the numbers for the maids and the other guys somewhere, but they were probably long lost in a pile of papers on her desk.

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[brooke marie sawyer]

I ' V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.

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Brooke could tell the old furniture still stayed in the home. All of them were covered and she knew the linens, photos and anything of “value” was packed away in a secure storage facility back in town. Brooke had already spent a day going through some things in there for her mother. She knew she’d replace some of the furniture plus move her own bedroom things in and replace worn spare mattresses. Otherwise though, she wanted many of the things she could make out in her memories to be where they belonged in this house.

Broke nodded when he inquired about it being her family’s home. Her grandmother had left it to them just before the Alzheimer’s made it impossible for her to take care of things. And once she was gone…well, her father had been too busy being a Marine to take time to make a real family trip after the funeral. Made Brooke miss it even more, even if some of the memories were hard to think on. That’s why she kept all her journals growing up, a whole huge box. So when Clyde offered his name her brow furrowed slightly in thought. ”What’s your last name Clyde?” She moved to stand at the bottom of the step so she was closer to him, glad to be one step closer to finding out about the house. ”Well, I plan on staying in Elizabeth’s Hollow for good and I don’t want to keep leasing places. I want to be able to approach my parents about it knowing everything I can about the house before I ask to take it over myself.” Her Georgia accent was long masked by a slightly more Northern one as her shoulders shrugged whimsically. The large smile that spread across Brooke’s face was a welcoming one. ”Besides everyone needs a home, right?”

Things about Brooke had changed and this town had changed. But despite that, this was her home. She never felt right in Virginia living on the base. While she was proud of her father being the Marine he was, she missed the days where she could run down the street to ask little boy Clyde to come play with her. The only reason she remembered his first name was she kept journals; though her journaling at eight meant drawing a lot of pictures with names or short sentences. If this Clyde was the “CB” in those initials well then this would be more then freaky.

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tagged;; clyde
word count;; four-hundred twelve
outfit;; classic style
notes;; a small town girl
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[clyde duncan brooks]

Funny thing was, Clyde had very little memory of the inside of the old house. He'd only been in it a few times, spending most time with the girl outside running through fields, destroying ant hills, building forts, and whatever else happened during that summer. They'd come across snakes and other dangerous things on their adventures, but somehow only came back for lunch and snack time with little scrapes on their bodies. They were care-free kids. His brown eyes scanned the woman in front of him again. God, if only he could remember that girl's name. Maybe he could ask Brooke where she was and what happened to make their family just up and leave. Maybe he'd get to talk to his childhood love again.

"Brooks. Clyde Brooks," he told her, trying to figure out why she was asking his last name. What did it matter to her? Clyde was just the farm boy watching after the old house. Maybe she wanted to run a background check, or pay him or something. She seemed like the richer type that would do something like that. "Your parents own this place?" he questioned, beginning to put the pieces together. "Wait, hold on." He held up a hand, as if to signal to her that he had to think about this for a moment. Her parents? As in the same folks that lived here those long years ago? So... she had to be...

"Brooke," Clyde's face grew into a huge smile. "I remember now." His eyes grew wide as he looked her up and down. It had to be her, the girl, the little girl he used to pick dandelions with and give to their mothers. The little girl who held his hand when they disappeared into fields of corn and hay. The same little girl he'd kissed with his eyes shut tight. "It really is you..." Clyde muttered, now remembering everything more clearly.

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[brooke marie sawyer]

I ' V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.

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Brooke tilted her head. CB…It had to be. This town was pretty big but he came from down the road and his family looked over the house. But Brooke waited as you couldn’t just seem like a weirdo and drop that kind of a question on someone. ”Yes. They ever could sell it after grandma passed…” Her father had grown up in Elizabeth’s Hollow and met his mother when he had come home after his training. She was a university student and they married just before his first deployment, having the more lavish wedding once he returned. They were still together twenty-six years later…

Her eyes turned quizzical as she looked over at Clyde. This was all strange how she came here just to check out the house and found someone who could help her. What was even stranger was when it was revealed he was that little boy who grazed across her memory from time to time and was scribbled across pages in her journal. Brooke couldn’t help but reach her hand as she began to laugh. ”I thought it might be you but didn’t want to seem like some weirdo bringing it up.” She played with the keys in her hand thoughtfully as she blushed slightly.

”I found the initials, over here on the swing.” Brooke turned slightly to the side as she pointed to faded swing with a fond smile. ”From that day…well anyways my grandmother never got rid of them.” That was about how far and romantic Brooke’s thoughts went. Since high school she had a hard time with so many things. Daniel had broken her heart after so many promises he made…Well, Brooke was where she didn’t have to face him anymore and just have her own life again as well as make her own story. As she leaned against the house, she breathed in the air deeply. ”I’m glad I came back. I’ve missed this town.”

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tagged;; clyde
word count;; three-hundred twenty-two
outfit;; classic style
notes;; a small town girl
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[clyde duncan brooks]

It was kinda funny how all the pieces fit together like this. He'd actually been thinking lately about if the little girl would ever come back to the house. Every time he'd passed by in the truck, the house seemed more distant, more vacant. Like everyone in the family had forgotten about their small town life when they'd moved to wherever. Clyde still had no idea where they'd gone off to. He could remember crying to his mom when the moving truck finally had taken the rest of their stuff. She said it'd be alright, plus, they were to watch the house so when they came back, the Brooks family would be the first to know. That helped him forget. Along with his father's new found attachment to going out to the bars.

Clyde smiled warmly at Brooke. This certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting when his mother used to say that they'd be back 'any day now'. This was actually, what... more than 15 years later. Damn. "I wouldn't have thought it was weird to mention it," he told her. "Here I was tryin' to figure out who you were and you kept this from me." He gave another teasing smile, unable to really keep the grin from his face. A new found warmth was now crossing through his body, he was no longer mad at their family for leaving him in the lurch-- without his childhood love. Clyde was happy that she finally came back.

The swing. He'd almost forgotten about that. Using his father's old pocket knife, he'd spent hours (or what felt like hours) carving their initials into the arm of the swing. The young boy had made sure that they'd be there forever, because he truly believed that they'd be together forever. "Wow, they're still there? I would've thought someone would just come by with some sand paper and buff it out..." Clyde said, nostalgia in his voice. He took the few steps up to the porch, looking around the old place and taking a seat on one of the railings. There was something magical about this house. He turned to her, nodding. "I'm glad you came back too, Brooke."

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[brooke marie sawyer]

I ' V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.

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Fate. That’s what this was. All her heartache and issues were only to lead her back to the one palce that mattered-home. As Brooke chuckled as a breeze came through and played through her hair. She pushed the strands back as she shrugged. ”Well I wasn’t entirely sure myself, just had my suspicions. So to me it seemed weird.’ Wow, it had to be time to drag out those old journals when she got back to the house. But at least they seemed to somewhat be back to where they were so many eyars ago. Teasing and just feeling comfortable with around him.. That was a small town and never forgetting your first kiss for you.

When you’re young and infatuated, it seemed like love could last forever. But Brooke learned after her ex that that wasn’t always possible. After five wonderful years together, the boy had broken her heart to be with one of her friends. That had been the hardest summer of her life; now Brooke was one who was no longer sure if love really did exist how she thought it did years and years prior when she was a girl and thought princes really did exist. Her smile was a little more strained as she moved from the thoughts of her ex back to the present. ”Well, my grandmother never had the heart to have them disappear just like that.” Just like her and her family had. Stupid military ordering her father to do all sorts of higher missions which caused their move.

As she turned to unlock the door, Clyde was suddenly on the porch with her. Everything back from their childhood seem to fill up in her heart. ”Thanks.” After a moment she snapped out and cleared her throat in order to twist and shove at the old door. Her first steps were simply surreal. It was almost as if the echoes from the ghosts of her childhood rang through them. ”Some time’s I wonder if we never had to move when we did if my parents would have even kept the house after my grandmother passed. And how different our lives could have been.” Like would they have been those childhood sweethearts in that movie Sweet Home Alabama? Or would they have simply stayed friends and just drifted apart. Brooke knew if she had a redo, she wouldn’t have wasted so much time on her ex and possibly would have fought more to come visit the town she thought of as home.

”How’s your mom being doing?” Brooke remembered hearing about his father’s death from her parents in that time when they had finally stopped writing those innocent childhood letters. Brooke wondered where she had put those as well as many of her childhood memories. This place was bringing so many memories as she stood in the middle of the sheet draped living room.

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tagged;; clyde
word count;; four-hundred eighty-one
outfit;; classic style
notes;; a small town girl
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[clyde duncan brooks]

Clyde didn't know what it was like to really leave home. Sure, he'd been on vacations and down to Mexico with his friends when they had their spring break at the university, but he'd always been back within two weeks. He'd always had responsibilities to take over and every day things just got a little harder. Hell, he hadn't been out of the state in... at least two years. Home was always home to him. Clyde smiled again, scratching the top of his head. "Yeah, I guess it is kinda weird isn't it," he said. "I never would've expected you back here, that's for sure."

He nodded, looking towards the swing. "Well your grandma knew what she was doing," he said. Love was something that had never really crossed his mind. Clyde had had his share of girlfriends in his high school career, sure, but they just couldn't handle how committed he was to farm work. One of them even broke up with him because he'd refused his college football scholarship in order to stay at home. He figured that if they didn't respect his love for his mom and brother, then they didn't deserve to be in his life. After those stages of follies, he'd grown cold to the word love. Clyde loved his family, and that was pretty much it.

Watching as she opened the door to the house, he tried to remember the last actual time he'd been inside. Maybe it was when he'd been asked to go borrow some sugar from Brooke's grandmother just a few months after their family had left. He was little and didn't really notice much then, (but came to realize now) that her grandma had a hard time remembering where she'd put the sugar. Clyde had been annoyed with his mother for making him ride his bike over when he was watching his favorite TV program. Maybe there was something he could've done rather than sit in one of those big chairs and pout.

"I honestly couldn't tell you how much different it would be for me..." he said vaguely. He'd thought about this a few times of course. But since he knew that their family wouldn't be coming back, it'd been a while since he'd thought about her... about them. Clyde followed her into the house, peering inside, his young boy curiosity getting the better of him. How weird was this? He let out a breath, knowing that the mom question would come up sometime. "Not the greatest..." he said, trying to keep it at that.

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[brooke marie sawyer]

I ' V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.

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If it hadn’t been for the Marine, Brooke knew her family would have never left here. But now that they had been in Virginia so long, her parents didn’t want to leave. Then again, her father still hadn’t left the Marine’s and was working a desk job so it made it a little hard. But there was no real attachments she held back in that town so she was more than eager to leave and start over. ”It’s a little weird but kind of cool too. This has always been my hometown to me, even though I’ve been gone.” She began to feel a little guilty. She had already been back in town for two years but hadn’t come out this way to see the home, or Clyde, or his family. Maybe she could make it up to everyone she now.

With a chuckle she nodded. Her grandmother had always been the romantic type; even after her grandfather passed she still wore her wedding ring and was buried with it. She was a big believer in fate, soul mates and true love. Though Brooke didn’t say it out loud, she remembered how her grandmother always thought that they were soul mates. She supported it with the fact that no one stayed best friends that young and that long without having some sort of connection created by God. Though broke wrinkled her nose and always protested, it was a rather romantic thought. But it faded once she started dating again in Virginia, thinking that Daniel was the one for her. She thought that they were going to get married and be together forever, but she was wrong in so many ways. Maybe, just maybe, her grandmother was conspiring with the fates, though Brooke didn’t even think of that.

Though things may not have been much different for Clyde, maybe it would have been different for them. ”Yeah but maybe we wouldn’t have grown so far apart.” She paused and turned to face him with a slight tremor in her voice. ”I’m sorry I stopped writing.” It was sincere; after some time had passed she stopped sending those little letters and pictures to her childhood friends. Part of that had to do with middle school, and part of her just trying to fit in back in Virginia. It was still wrong of her to do either way. She set the keys on a covered table as she pulled back on of the sheets. The furniture was still in good condition. Maybe she could reupholster it to give it a more modern feel? Either way, there was so many things to be done…

”I’m sorry to hear that.” A pained but sincere expression traveled across her face. She remembered how beautiful and wonderful his mother had been. ”Well my store is off it’s feet and I hired some people so I have more free time. Maybe I can help cheer her up or whatever you need help with.” A bright smile spread across Brooke’s face. ”Maybe once I move on in, we can all have dinner. Just like old times.” Clyde’s family had helped her family out with things pertaining to her grandmother. And after they moved and her grandmother wanted to stay in the home she had gotten with her husband, Clyde’s mother had still been good in watching out for her in those last months before she had to be admitted to a home. She wanted to help and return all the care his family had shown her, even if she didn’t remember them all and had to piece together with the help of her parents. Brooke was the girl with a big heart, even if it was broken with no one to piece it back together.

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tagged;; clyde
word count;; six-hundred twenty-six
outfit;; classic style
notes;; a small town girl
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