Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Crumbs & A Question

A/N:

First, if you have not read the chapter before this titled "Chicken Soup & the Thomas Inquistion", then please do! WP locked it, so you must follow me to read.  If you are still have trouble reading it, then message me and I will find a way to get it to you.  I think it is important you read that chapter before this. Okay.

Whoa. So this is the last chapter. BUT I do have a epilogue that I will post as soon as I can (I think the epilogue will definitely be worth the wait).  I have to say that I've had the best time writing this story.  I really, really have loved writing Charlie, and reading all your responses to her.  She is by far, my favorite character I have written.  Thank you so much for reading, and for all your comments and support.  I really hope you enjoyed.

I am going to take a break from writing until after my wedding.  I simply don't have time at the moment.  I am hoping to come up with some new ideas, and come back strong with either an entirely new story, or perhaps a sequel to Crumbs.  I'm not a huge fan of sequels though, so a really magical idea would have to somehow find it's way into my crazy, cramped brain. 

Thank you for sticking with me, and this story.  I hope you'll keep reading if/when I post more of my writing. Thanks again for all your support! I can't say it enough. It truly means so much to me.

Two days pass.  It is a strange occurrence because I feel like the time both flies by and drags on.  When I’m at the bakery, there is never enough time. I am baking short bread cookies, and preparing alarmingly large batches of sweet cream ice cream, and making berry reduction sauces and jams in between all of that.  When I go home at night, time stops.  Minutes seem like hours, and I toss and turn in bed, certain that I’m getting bed sores from staying in one spot for too long.  I sleep for no more than two or three hours total each night.  I have dreams.  Dreams about Tiny Baker failing and the Summer Celebration being a catastrophe.  I have dreams about the night Chase hit me and running from him.  Mostly I have dreams about Tom.  Sometimes we are smiling and he is holding me, and it feels so real that I ache when I wake up.  Deep in the hollow of my chest.  It is not easy.  And when I get up in the morning I am bleary eyed and drained.  I set up my IV drip of coffee, and then I go back to the bakery. 

The walk from the hobbit hole to the bakery is the hardest part.  Because it is dark and early morning.  Because the air is fresh and clean and a bit salty from the bay.  Because I walk through the field that I walked so many times with Tom. And past that blasted tree.  It seems to taunt me as I walk by.  The ghosts of Tom and I, still safe underneath the canopy, lost in each other.

I walk past it quickly, avoiding looking at it directly as if it has eyes to stare me down.  Who knew a tree could be so heart breaking?  Who knew a tree could be so disapproving? I can practically hear it yelling at me—“What you are doing? Why are you giving him up? Why can’t you change?”

It’s not ‘If these walls could talk…’, it’s ‘If this tree could talk.’  Thank the gods it can’t.  I berate myself enough without an old oak’s input.

Three days from the call to Tom, I have to admit that I’ve considered just sleeping at the bakery to save time.  It’s a bit sad because a day before the celebration, I do sleep there.  I am so tired that I end up passed out in the office, curled up in the old arm chair.  I get four hours of sleep and it is the most sleep I’ve gotten in days.  I sleep like the dead.  It is enough to clear my head a bit, and when I wake up at half past four the next morning, I feel almost like I am ready to face this task.