Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "beachlife"
Meet the Gunnars! Wilmington Edition
SOREN
Wake at 7:30 am, Breakfast- prepared by Henley.
8:30 to 10:30 am, Learning Television
10:30 to 12:00 pm, Snack - prepared by Henley. Play time – beach or outing
Outings: Park
Cape Fear Museum
Cameron Art Museum
Fort Fisher Aquarium
The Children’s Museum of Wilmington
Wilmington Railroad Museum
The USS North Carolina-Battleship (Soren’s favorite)
12:00 to 1:30 pm, Lunch – Prepared by Henley or healthy lunch while out, small portions. (Please arrange with Henley if you will be out)
1:30 to 3:30 pm, Nap
3:30 to 4:00 pm, Snack prepared by Henley
4:00 to 5:00 pm, Quiet play time in Soren’s room (this is your break)
5:00 to 6:00 pm, Dinner prepared by Henley (on occasion you may leave Soren with Henley to have dinner alone, please arrange with Henley 24 hours prior)
6:00 to 6:30 pm, Bath time (Soren may play for 15 minutes after you bathe him)
6:30 to 8:00 pm, Reading time
8:00 Bedtime
*Justus arrives Friday afternoon.
Below the schedule are various phone numbers; Wrightsville Beach Police, Fire and Rescue, and EMT. She’s also listed numbers for poison control, urgent care and a pediatrician Soren, I assume, has seen in the past. Vilma has generously written down the address of the house along with where to find the keys for the fleet of vehicles out front.
In parenthesis she writes: (If you don’t have a car seat, there is one in the Jeep)
There is also a list of telephone numbers for Lars; dressing room, cell, car and studio.
Chapter 4
Well, okay then. I will say this about Vilma Gunnar; she is well organized as a new mother. My heart hurts for her being away from her son, hell my heart hurts for my own kids. But her specifics are really specific. Far be it for me to criticize but my kids never had a strict schedule; I guess that is the difference of having an actress for a mother versus an artist. My kids eat when they are hungry, play when they are bored and sleep when they fall asleep. This monotonous schedule is going to get old with me quick. I get to the bottom again and wonder about Lars “presumptive” son. I know nothing about Justus Gunnar and if he is famous, I don’t realize it. I watch television but not a lot of it and I don’t see movies. I get to watch a lot of Nickelodeon, Nick Jr. and Cartoon Network. Considering my insomnia, I should watch more TV; it’s just that my real life is entertaining enough.
I bathe and wash my hair; it feels so good to get clean. The towels on the rack are soft Egyptian cotton and they seem to seep with warmth as I wrap one around my hair and one around my body. I look up and see a large reddish orange light, a heat lamp radiating down on me. It’s like an incubator in here but I’m not ready to leave. I go over to the window and look through the wooden blinds. Down below is a small sandy walking path lined by reeds and stone retaining wall. Directly next door is an equally impressive residence and through the walls I swear I can hear the neighbors having a grand time. Deep voices cry out like cheering for sports and the shrill of an older female voice is apparent, scolding them for their boisterousness. It must be overly quiet in this house; I shouldn’t be able to hear inside the house next door.
“The attributes of your genetics will eventually make themselves known, but for now they are limited.” My Daddy had warned me about this. I can only hope that they remain at bay until I can see Cian again.
I release the blinds and turn to leave the bathroom. Inside my bedroom I dress and see that on the bedside table it‘s 4:00 am. I must have been in the bath for a while, although it didn’t seem that long. Oh well, three and a half hours before I get Soren up. I decide to go out to the giant back deck and take in the salt life of Wrightsville beach. And while this is enjoyable and wonderful, it doesn’t compare to Emerald Isle. In about four weeks the air will change and the water will illuminate with a green hue. For now I would enjoy the time I have in Wilmington, but the anticipatory urge I have to race to EI is palpable.
I ‘m looking out over the ocean which at this hour is as black as the sky itself when my attentions are diverted to a small group of young people bounding down to the water; four young men and one teenage girl. She is calling for them to wait for her. I watch as they draw up their wetsuits and sit on the sand. Their surfboards are lying at their feet. The girl finally catches up and reprimands them for not waiting. She draws up her suit and sits on the sand beside the tallest of the young men. He is teasing her and it’s obvious they’re siblings. I whip my head toward their screened in deck where an older woman is calling down to them. She sees me and waves, I absentmindedly return the gesture. She is carefully descending a long staircase down to the sand when another, shorter blonde woman follows suit. I assume these women are the mothers of the five surfer kids, and I’m right when I hear one of the boys call the taller brunette woman Mom. It’s strange; the taller children belong to the shorter mother and vice versa. The other three boys are of average height, aside from one who is moderately taller; they obviously belong to the brunette woman who is much taller than the blonde. The two women are pulling and prodding the five youths and I can relate to that. I smile inwardly. The blackness of the sky is converting and I realize that these kids, training in the start of the off season. What a life, what a talent to have.
I look into the house at the clock on the wall, 5:30 am. It seems as though time is slipping from me so fast and the anxiety of waking a child that I have never met is beginning to rear its head. I can only hope Lars has discussed me with his young son. Luckily I will get to meet and talk to Henley before Soren wakes. I’m honestly looking forward to talking to another staff member about the Gunnar family. Here comes the gossip queen again. I like the mantra of Clarice in Steel Magnolias, “If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, come sit by me.”
I reenter the house and I hear Mr. Gunnar, Lars shifting around, preparing to leave. I surprise the hell out of him when he strides through the hall into the great room. He exclaims something in another language.
“I’m sorry.” I say quietly.
He begins to laugh and takes a deep breath at the same time, “Oh, my dear. You scared me.” He is wearing the same thing we wore last night to greet me, white button up shirt tucked into blue jeans.
“I apologize; I wanted to be up when Henley arrived.” I subconsciously clasp my hands behind my back. “I was just taking in the view. I enjoy sunrise and sunset.”
“Of course; I apologize if the neighbors woke you. They are professional surfers…well the kids are. They live next door during the off season, they are nice people. Early risers though.” He says recovering from his shock, shifting about the house again. “I have to leave and my car is here. Good luck my dear.”
“Thank you, have a nice day.”
“Thank you.” His tone is like no one has ever said the phrase to him. He opens the door to leave and as he does he gets another shock, Henley, I assume, is standing with his hand up, ready to knock. “Oh, Henley, you and Babet are going to kill me today.” He says smiling.
“Sorry sir, it’s almost six and I wasn’t sure Miss Babet had arrived. You didn’t call me to let me know sir. I didn’t want you to be late or little Soren left alone.” Henley is a short but robust African American man and I can tell by his accent he is a native North Carolinian. His salt and pepper hair and freckled face make him seem grandfatherly. He catches my eyes and walks toward me, “Good Morning, my name is Henley. Miss Babet?” He says holding his hand out to me.
I take it and smile, “Yes sir, Henley I presume?”
“Yes ma’am.” He says proudly.
“Very nice to meet you.”
“I concur.”
“Goodbye you two.” Henley and I watch Lars walk out the door and after it’s closed Henley turns to me.
“Well, Miss Babet how was your drive up from the Big Easy?” He makes his way toward the kitchen, I follow.
I smile thinking of home, “Fine, I was later than I anticipated. Atlanta traffic…” He doesn’t let me finish.
“Oh yeah, been through that a time or two.” He says laughing. He is milling about the kitchen, pulling fruit from the refrigerator; a whole pineapple, mango, papaya and strawberries. He reaches into a small closet and retrieves an apron. It’s black and white pinstripe and as he ties the strings behind his back I sit at the granite counter. “What time did you get in?”
“I think it was around 11:30, but it was probably closer to 12:00.” I say watching his precise cutting.
“Wow, good thing the boss man had a nap earlier in the day.” He shakes his head smiling and there is something I don’t know. I search him inquisitively and he sees this, “Don’t get me wrong, he is a great father, but he is very busy. Poor little man…” He trails off. “I watched Soren while boss man slept.”
I begin to sympathize, but not for Lars, for Soren. Little boys need and love their fathers, the crucial bonding time between a father and son is short. I start to feel inadequate at my own son’s lack of father. At least he has my Daddy as a father figure for the time being. I remember the short time Cian spent with Henri and how well they got along. In a perfect world, Cian would be Henri’s father figure.
“That was nice of you.” I say as he offers me a freshly washed strawberry. “Thank you.” I bite into the dark red sweetness. Oh my, this strawberry is bursting through my taste buds like electricity. I close my eyes and savor its deliciousness. I don’t linger but it’s such an exquisite taste, I’m amazed and can’t help but comment, “Mmm, that is a good strawberry.”
“Child, that is a Henley strawberry!” He says loud and proud.
“You grew these?!” I exclaim and I can already tell Henley and I will be good friends.
“Yes ma’am, taught by my grandmamma. She was the Strawberry Queen.” He begins cutting the pineapple, “This one, I bought.” He says laughing which makes me laugh.
I glance at the clock, it’s 6:30. I have an hour before Soren is to be woken up. I lean in my seat and reach into my back pocket where I tucked the “Schedule”. I unfold it and lay it before Henley and the audience of fruit.
“Ah yes, the List.” He says ominously humorous.
“Yeah,” I say, “This is…um, detailed.” My tone is polite but I know Henley is reading me correctly.
“Detailed, good word Miss Babet.”
“Babe.” I say.
“Pardon?”
“You can call me Babe.” I say shoving another strawberry in my mouth, wincing at its bouquet of flavor.
“Babe?”
“Yeah, all my friends call me Babe.”
He turns his mouth down as if to think it over, “Babe. All right.”
I smile at him before popping another strawberry. I look back down at the “Schedule” and trail my finger down to the bottom where it says, “Justus arrives on Friday afternoon”.
“Do you know Justus, Henley?” I ask.
Henley is eyeing me speculatively, “Miss…Babe, you watch out for that one. He’s a cad…a womanizer. Why do you think Mr. Lars had you come all the way from New Orleans to keep little Soren? No agency in Wilmington will work with Mr. Gunnar because of Justus. He’s the definition of Casanova.” Henley winks at me as if to say, “Remember it.”
I smile back at him, “He can try, and it might be pretty entertaining to watch him do so.”
He’s watching me as if I don’t have a clue, “Okay Miss Babe, just be careful of that wolf. He will try, oh boy will he try.” His tone is quiet. I know he is talking to me but it’s almost as if he is telling himself.
I leave Henley to do what he does in his kitchen sanctuary and ascend the grand staircase. I slowly and quietly walk down the hall to Soren’s room. I turn the knob and then push the door open. To my surprise Soren is up and playing with a pair of trucks on the floor of his room. His flat screen television is on Nick Jr. already, this is violation of the “schedule” and I love it.
I smile when the boy meets my eyes, “Hi Soren,” my tone is sweet and motherly as if I were talking to Henri, “My name is Babet, but I want you to call me Babe; okay?”
He nods, “Babe.” And he has a slight accent as well. It’s so cute coming from someone so young.
“Yes, are you hungry? Henley is making your breakfast.”
“Yes.” He says getting to his feet. He teeters out the door and down the hall. He stops at the top of the steps and waits for me with his hand out. I take his hand and he proceeds to count down the steps.
“One, Two, Free, Fo…” He says until we reach the bottom at, “Fo-teen.” He jumps from the bottom step down to the floor. “Big Jump” He says looking up at me.
“Big Jump.” I retort.
He runs to the kitchen and says, “Hi Henny.” Soren climbs into the closest chair at a medium sized breakfast table.
“Hey Soren!” Henley draws out the “Hey”. “I got your breakfast right here little man.” Henley brings Soren a plate with two egg whites and a lovely display of fresh fruit.
“Tan ku.” Soren says before diving into the fruit.
“Eat your eggs too now.” Henley says like a no nonsense grandfather but Soren keeps eating the fruit. “Two more bites of fruit, then eggs; okay?”
“Okay.” Soren does as he is told and I get the feeling, he and Henley spend a lot of time together.
Henley offers me a plate of fruit also, “Would you like eggs Miss Babe?”
“No. Thank you, Henley. The fruit is wonderful.” I say and he smiles politely.
Soren and I eat together and once he is finally finished with his eggs we head into the great room to watch Learning Television. I turn it on, but Soren prefers to play with his number and letter puzzles. Occasionally he calls out the answer to a question the television is asking him, but he doesn’t face the TV. I take the opportunity and call home. It’s just after 9:00 am and I can at least check in with my Mamma, now and Scarlet, later on my break. I dial and Mamma picks up instantly.
“Babe!” She sounds great, joyous even.
“Hey Mamma, how are things going?”
“Great, great. Your Daddy was worried when we didn’t hear from you last night.” She says her tone a borderline scold.
“I know; I’m sorry. I didn’t get in until midnight and then I had to unload my car, blah blah blah. Who cares about that, how’s my little man?” I say and Soren looks up at me smiling. I have to remember Henley calls him that.
“He’s great, he’s right here…Henri, talk to Mamma?” I hear a cheerful reply in the background.
“Mamma!” Henri’s voices rings like a beautiful chime and I start to tear up.
“Hi Baby! Are you being a good boy for Nana?” I ask through a crack in my throat.
“No!” He says sweetly.
“No?!” I reply.
“Yes. Love Nana.” He says and the bauble of warm liquid falls down my cheek.
I wipe it away before Soren looks up again, “Aw, Love love Nana.” I say to Henri, “Let me talk to Nana, I love you Henri.”
“Love Mamma.”
“Hey.”
“Hey. So how is it?” Mamma asks, “Is the house huge?”
“You know it is, Mr. Gunnar is very nice. They have a personal chef named Henley, he’s also nice. How is Scar?” I ask since my Mamma has yet to divulge anything yet.
“Oh she’s great, you know honey. She misses you but she seems to be doing just fine.”
“Thanks Mamma, tell Daddy I will call when the sun goes down.” The last bit I keep quieter than the prior.
“Will do, have fun okay sweetie?”
“I will Mamma, I will. I love ya’ll.”
“We love you, talk to you later honey.”
“Bye.” I say and hang up my phone. Soren is still playing quietly, glancing up at the television every so often.
Before long it’s time for Soren’s snack and playtime. Henley peeks around the corner and calls the little boy into the kitchen. I follow as he takes his place again at the table. Henley delivers a plate with celery sticks and hazelnut spread, an orange in the shape of a sun and a cup of milk. On the side Henley gives Soren a dish of wheat crackers. The little boy eats quietly while I watch. Henley asks if I want anything and I tell him a cup f coffee would be epic. He prepares the pot and soon I smell the aroma of French roast coffee. Sitting across from Soren I ask him what he would like to do today.
“Beach.” He says with a mouth full of celery.
“Sure, we can go down to the beach. Do you swim?” I ask.
“No.” He says and I look up at Henley.
“Okay, do you like to build sand castles?” His little eyes light up, he stops chewing and nods his head aggressively. “That’s great; because I am the best sandcastle architect this side of the Mississippi.” I say proudly sitting up straight in my chair. I look back up at Henley, “Do they have shovels and such?”
“Yeah, down in the garage is a whole slew of stuff to build sandcastles.” Henley is smiling at Soren.
“Okay Soren, you finish your snack while I go get the supplies.” I push myself up from the table and head toward the foyer when I realize I don’t know how to get down to the basement. I turn back to face Henley who points at what looks like a closet door. I nod and wink.
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Wake at 7:30 am, Breakfast- prepared by Henley.
8:30 to 10:30 am, Learning Television
10:30 to 12:00 pm, Snack - prepared by Henley. Play time – beach or outing
Outings: Park
Cape Fear Museum
Cameron Art Museum
Fort Fisher Aquarium
The Children’s Museum of Wilmington
Wilmington Railroad Museum
The USS North Carolina-Battleship (Soren’s favorite)
12:00 to 1:30 pm, Lunch – Prepared by Henley or healthy lunch while out, small portions. (Please arrange with Henley if you will be out)
1:30 to 3:30 pm, Nap
3:30 to 4:00 pm, Snack prepared by Henley
4:00 to 5:00 pm, Quiet play time in Soren’s room (this is your break)
5:00 to 6:00 pm, Dinner prepared by Henley (on occasion you may leave Soren with Henley to have dinner alone, please arrange with Henley 24 hours prior)
6:00 to 6:30 pm, Bath time (Soren may play for 15 minutes after you bathe him)
6:30 to 8:00 pm, Reading time
8:00 Bedtime
*Justus arrives Friday afternoon.
Below the schedule are various phone numbers; Wrightsville Beach Police, Fire and Rescue, and EMT. She’s also listed numbers for poison control, urgent care and a pediatrician Soren, I assume, has seen in the past. Vilma has generously written down the address of the house along with where to find the keys for the fleet of vehicles out front.
In parenthesis she writes: (If you don’t have a car seat, there is one in the Jeep)
There is also a list of telephone numbers for Lars; dressing room, cell, car and studio.
Chapter 4
Well, okay then. I will say this about Vilma Gunnar; she is well organized as a new mother. My heart hurts for her being away from her son, hell my heart hurts for my own kids. But her specifics are really specific. Far be it for me to criticize but my kids never had a strict schedule; I guess that is the difference of having an actress for a mother versus an artist. My kids eat when they are hungry, play when they are bored and sleep when they fall asleep. This monotonous schedule is going to get old with me quick. I get to the bottom again and wonder about Lars “presumptive” son. I know nothing about Justus Gunnar and if he is famous, I don’t realize it. I watch television but not a lot of it and I don’t see movies. I get to watch a lot of Nickelodeon, Nick Jr. and Cartoon Network. Considering my insomnia, I should watch more TV; it’s just that my real life is entertaining enough.
I bathe and wash my hair; it feels so good to get clean. The towels on the rack are soft Egyptian cotton and they seem to seep with warmth as I wrap one around my hair and one around my body. I look up and see a large reddish orange light, a heat lamp radiating down on me. It’s like an incubator in here but I’m not ready to leave. I go over to the window and look through the wooden blinds. Down below is a small sandy walking path lined by reeds and stone retaining wall. Directly next door is an equally impressive residence and through the walls I swear I can hear the neighbors having a grand time. Deep voices cry out like cheering for sports and the shrill of an older female voice is apparent, scolding them for their boisterousness. It must be overly quiet in this house; I shouldn’t be able to hear inside the house next door.
“The attributes of your genetics will eventually make themselves known, but for now they are limited.” My Daddy had warned me about this. I can only hope that they remain at bay until I can see Cian again.
I release the blinds and turn to leave the bathroom. Inside my bedroom I dress and see that on the bedside table it‘s 4:00 am. I must have been in the bath for a while, although it didn’t seem that long. Oh well, three and a half hours before I get Soren up. I decide to go out to the giant back deck and take in the salt life of Wrightsville beach. And while this is enjoyable and wonderful, it doesn’t compare to Emerald Isle. In about four weeks the air will change and the water will illuminate with a green hue. For now I would enjoy the time I have in Wilmington, but the anticipatory urge I have to race to EI is palpable.
I ‘m looking out over the ocean which at this hour is as black as the sky itself when my attentions are diverted to a small group of young people bounding down to the water; four young men and one teenage girl. She is calling for them to wait for her. I watch as they draw up their wetsuits and sit on the sand. Their surfboards are lying at their feet. The girl finally catches up and reprimands them for not waiting. She draws up her suit and sits on the sand beside the tallest of the young men. He is teasing her and it’s obvious they’re siblings. I whip my head toward their screened in deck where an older woman is calling down to them. She sees me and waves, I absentmindedly return the gesture. She is carefully descending a long staircase down to the sand when another, shorter blonde woman follows suit. I assume these women are the mothers of the five surfer kids, and I’m right when I hear one of the boys call the taller brunette woman Mom. It’s strange; the taller children belong to the shorter mother and vice versa. The other three boys are of average height, aside from one who is moderately taller; they obviously belong to the brunette woman who is much taller than the blonde. The two women are pulling and prodding the five youths and I can relate to that. I smile inwardly. The blackness of the sky is converting and I realize that these kids, training in the start of the off season. What a life, what a talent to have.
I look into the house at the clock on the wall, 5:30 am. It seems as though time is slipping from me so fast and the anxiety of waking a child that I have never met is beginning to rear its head. I can only hope Lars has discussed me with his young son. Luckily I will get to meet and talk to Henley before Soren wakes. I’m honestly looking forward to talking to another staff member about the Gunnar family. Here comes the gossip queen again. I like the mantra of Clarice in Steel Magnolias, “If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, come sit by me.”
I reenter the house and I hear Mr. Gunnar, Lars shifting around, preparing to leave. I surprise the hell out of him when he strides through the hall into the great room. He exclaims something in another language.
“I’m sorry.” I say quietly.
He begins to laugh and takes a deep breath at the same time, “Oh, my dear. You scared me.” He is wearing the same thing we wore last night to greet me, white button up shirt tucked into blue jeans.
“I apologize; I wanted to be up when Henley arrived.” I subconsciously clasp my hands behind my back. “I was just taking in the view. I enjoy sunrise and sunset.”
“Of course; I apologize if the neighbors woke you. They are professional surfers…well the kids are. They live next door during the off season, they are nice people. Early risers though.” He says recovering from his shock, shifting about the house again. “I have to leave and my car is here. Good luck my dear.”
“Thank you, have a nice day.”
“Thank you.” His tone is like no one has ever said the phrase to him. He opens the door to leave and as he does he gets another shock, Henley, I assume, is standing with his hand up, ready to knock. “Oh, Henley, you and Babet are going to kill me today.” He says smiling.
“Sorry sir, it’s almost six and I wasn’t sure Miss Babet had arrived. You didn’t call me to let me know sir. I didn’t want you to be late or little Soren left alone.” Henley is a short but robust African American man and I can tell by his accent he is a native North Carolinian. His salt and pepper hair and freckled face make him seem grandfatherly. He catches my eyes and walks toward me, “Good Morning, my name is Henley. Miss Babet?” He says holding his hand out to me.
I take it and smile, “Yes sir, Henley I presume?”
“Yes ma’am.” He says proudly.
“Very nice to meet you.”
“I concur.”
“Goodbye you two.” Henley and I watch Lars walk out the door and after it’s closed Henley turns to me.
“Well, Miss Babet how was your drive up from the Big Easy?” He makes his way toward the kitchen, I follow.
I smile thinking of home, “Fine, I was later than I anticipated. Atlanta traffic…” He doesn’t let me finish.
“Oh yeah, been through that a time or two.” He says laughing. He is milling about the kitchen, pulling fruit from the refrigerator; a whole pineapple, mango, papaya and strawberries. He reaches into a small closet and retrieves an apron. It’s black and white pinstripe and as he ties the strings behind his back I sit at the granite counter. “What time did you get in?”
“I think it was around 11:30, but it was probably closer to 12:00.” I say watching his precise cutting.
“Wow, good thing the boss man had a nap earlier in the day.” He shakes his head smiling and there is something I don’t know. I search him inquisitively and he sees this, “Don’t get me wrong, he is a great father, but he is very busy. Poor little man…” He trails off. “I watched Soren while boss man slept.”
I begin to sympathize, but not for Lars, for Soren. Little boys need and love their fathers, the crucial bonding time between a father and son is short. I start to feel inadequate at my own son’s lack of father. At least he has my Daddy as a father figure for the time being. I remember the short time Cian spent with Henri and how well they got along. In a perfect world, Cian would be Henri’s father figure.
“That was nice of you.” I say as he offers me a freshly washed strawberry. “Thank you.” I bite into the dark red sweetness. Oh my, this strawberry is bursting through my taste buds like electricity. I close my eyes and savor its deliciousness. I don’t linger but it’s such an exquisite taste, I’m amazed and can’t help but comment, “Mmm, that is a good strawberry.”
“Child, that is a Henley strawberry!” He says loud and proud.
“You grew these?!” I exclaim and I can already tell Henley and I will be good friends.
“Yes ma’am, taught by my grandmamma. She was the Strawberry Queen.” He begins cutting the pineapple, “This one, I bought.” He says laughing which makes me laugh.
I glance at the clock, it’s 6:30. I have an hour before Soren is to be woken up. I lean in my seat and reach into my back pocket where I tucked the “Schedule”. I unfold it and lay it before Henley and the audience of fruit.
“Ah yes, the List.” He says ominously humorous.
“Yeah,” I say, “This is…um, detailed.” My tone is polite but I know Henley is reading me correctly.
“Detailed, good word Miss Babet.”
“Babe.” I say.
“Pardon?”
“You can call me Babe.” I say shoving another strawberry in my mouth, wincing at its bouquet of flavor.
“Babe?”
“Yeah, all my friends call me Babe.”
He turns his mouth down as if to think it over, “Babe. All right.”
I smile at him before popping another strawberry. I look back down at the “Schedule” and trail my finger down to the bottom where it says, “Justus arrives on Friday afternoon”.
“Do you know Justus, Henley?” I ask.
Henley is eyeing me speculatively, “Miss…Babe, you watch out for that one. He’s a cad…a womanizer. Why do you think Mr. Lars had you come all the way from New Orleans to keep little Soren? No agency in Wilmington will work with Mr. Gunnar because of Justus. He’s the definition of Casanova.” Henley winks at me as if to say, “Remember it.”
I smile back at him, “He can try, and it might be pretty entertaining to watch him do so.”
He’s watching me as if I don’t have a clue, “Okay Miss Babe, just be careful of that wolf. He will try, oh boy will he try.” His tone is quiet. I know he is talking to me but it’s almost as if he is telling himself.
I leave Henley to do what he does in his kitchen sanctuary and ascend the grand staircase. I slowly and quietly walk down the hall to Soren’s room. I turn the knob and then push the door open. To my surprise Soren is up and playing with a pair of trucks on the floor of his room. His flat screen television is on Nick Jr. already, this is violation of the “schedule” and I love it.
I smile when the boy meets my eyes, “Hi Soren,” my tone is sweet and motherly as if I were talking to Henri, “My name is Babet, but I want you to call me Babe; okay?”
He nods, “Babe.” And he has a slight accent as well. It’s so cute coming from someone so young.
“Yes, are you hungry? Henley is making your breakfast.”
“Yes.” He says getting to his feet. He teeters out the door and down the hall. He stops at the top of the steps and waits for me with his hand out. I take his hand and he proceeds to count down the steps.
“One, Two, Free, Fo…” He says until we reach the bottom at, “Fo-teen.” He jumps from the bottom step down to the floor. “Big Jump” He says looking up at me.
“Big Jump.” I retort.
He runs to the kitchen and says, “Hi Henny.” Soren climbs into the closest chair at a medium sized breakfast table.
“Hey Soren!” Henley draws out the “Hey”. “I got your breakfast right here little man.” Henley brings Soren a plate with two egg whites and a lovely display of fresh fruit.
“Tan ku.” Soren says before diving into the fruit.
“Eat your eggs too now.” Henley says like a no nonsense grandfather but Soren keeps eating the fruit. “Two more bites of fruit, then eggs; okay?”
“Okay.” Soren does as he is told and I get the feeling, he and Henley spend a lot of time together.
Henley offers me a plate of fruit also, “Would you like eggs Miss Babe?”
“No. Thank you, Henley. The fruit is wonderful.” I say and he smiles politely.
Soren and I eat together and once he is finally finished with his eggs we head into the great room to watch Learning Television. I turn it on, but Soren prefers to play with his number and letter puzzles. Occasionally he calls out the answer to a question the television is asking him, but he doesn’t face the TV. I take the opportunity and call home. It’s just after 9:00 am and I can at least check in with my Mamma, now and Scarlet, later on my break. I dial and Mamma picks up instantly.
“Babe!” She sounds great, joyous even.
“Hey Mamma, how are things going?”
“Great, great. Your Daddy was worried when we didn’t hear from you last night.” She says her tone a borderline scold.
“I know; I’m sorry. I didn’t get in until midnight and then I had to unload my car, blah blah blah. Who cares about that, how’s my little man?” I say and Soren looks up at me smiling. I have to remember Henley calls him that.
“He’s great, he’s right here…Henri, talk to Mamma?” I hear a cheerful reply in the background.
“Mamma!” Henri’s voices rings like a beautiful chime and I start to tear up.
“Hi Baby! Are you being a good boy for Nana?” I ask through a crack in my throat.
“No!” He says sweetly.
“No?!” I reply.
“Yes. Love Nana.” He says and the bauble of warm liquid falls down my cheek.
I wipe it away before Soren looks up again, “Aw, Love love Nana.” I say to Henri, “Let me talk to Nana, I love you Henri.”
“Love Mamma.”
“Hey.”
“Hey. So how is it?” Mamma asks, “Is the house huge?”
“You know it is, Mr. Gunnar is very nice. They have a personal chef named Henley, he’s also nice. How is Scar?” I ask since my Mamma has yet to divulge anything yet.
“Oh she’s great, you know honey. She misses you but she seems to be doing just fine.”
“Thanks Mamma, tell Daddy I will call when the sun goes down.” The last bit I keep quieter than the prior.
“Will do, have fun okay sweetie?”
“I will Mamma, I will. I love ya’ll.”
“We love you, talk to you later honey.”
“Bye.” I say and hang up my phone. Soren is still playing quietly, glancing up at the television every so often.
Before long it’s time for Soren’s snack and playtime. Henley peeks around the corner and calls the little boy into the kitchen. I follow as he takes his place again at the table. Henley delivers a plate with celery sticks and hazelnut spread, an orange in the shape of a sun and a cup of milk. On the side Henley gives Soren a dish of wheat crackers. The little boy eats quietly while I watch. Henley asks if I want anything and I tell him a cup f coffee would be epic. He prepares the pot and soon I smell the aroma of French roast coffee. Sitting across from Soren I ask him what he would like to do today.
“Beach.” He says with a mouth full of celery.
“Sure, we can go down to the beach. Do you swim?” I ask.
“No.” He says and I look up at Henley.
“Okay, do you like to build sand castles?” His little eyes light up, he stops chewing and nods his head aggressively. “That’s great; because I am the best sandcastle architect this side of the Mississippi.” I say proudly sitting up straight in my chair. I look back up at Henley, “Do they have shovels and such?”
“Yeah, down in the garage is a whole slew of stuff to build sandcastles.” Henley is smiling at Soren.
“Okay Soren, you finish your snack while I go get the supplies.” I push myself up from the table and head toward the foyer when I realize I don’t know how to get down to the basement. I turn back to face Henley who points at what looks like a closet door. I nod and wink.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Go To Pinterest and checkout my Morte' series boards, see who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany!!
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Meeting new people is always so fun!
Chapter 5
Down on the beach Soren and I have erected a sand palace with four turrets and a drawbridge moat. He truly is a delightful little boy, smiling ear to ear the entire time. He is extremely excited when he sees the surfing neighbors doing their thing in the water. The young girl wipes out and comes up on shore, she is heading our way. I watch her warily; I don’t know how the Gunnar’s feel about their son talking to strangers, but I rebuff myself when Soren gets up and hugs the girl, “Autumn!” He shrills wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Hi Soren!” She rubs his head. “Hi, I’m Autumn Green.” She says to me.
“Babet Beauregard.” I say enthusiastically, “You have real talent.”
She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, I’m trying. My brother and cousins are much better. They’re older, so…” She trails off, typical teenager. “You are so lucky.” She says out of the blue.
“Oh?” I reply and I cup my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Autumn is tall for a girl and has chestnut hair. I can barely make out the color of her eyes, but from what I can see, they are a beautiful bright hazel.
She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one side, “Yeah, working for Justus Gunnar’s father. Oh man if I was older…I don’t care what the girls around here say. He’s HOT.”
“I haven’t met him.” I say shrugging.
Autumn stands up straight like a soldier, “You haven’t…I mean you don’t know who he is?!”
“No, he comes in to town Friday.” My tone is unchanging. “Who is he?” I know a teenage girl will dish about this guy if Henley won’t.
“He’s on one of those premium channel werewolf shows my Mom won’t let me watch. He’s this really hot biker dude…” She talks on and on about Justus’ television show and I‘ve honestly never heard of it but I listen intently. She turns back to the water when she hears her name.
“Autumn! Come on!” The tallest of the four is calling her, “You can’t get any better if you don’t stay in the water!” His tone is condescendingly loud.
She rolls her eyes again, “My brother, Aaron. The other three are Landon, Deacon and Tristan Adams; they’re my cousins.” She says pointing them out. “It was nice meeting you, I better get back. Bye Soren!” She says at a higher pitch but he is too involved in his castle building.
“You keep at it, the sport needs more girls.”
“I agree!” She says wholeheartedly, turning go bound back to the water.
“It was nice to meet you too.” I call after her. I look at Soren who is sculpting a small hill, “She’s nice, huh?”
“Yes.” He says while continuing to sculpt.
I’m honestly not keeping up with the time when Henley calls Soren in for lunch from the deck, “Lunch little man!”
Soren jumps up from the sand and brushes his hands off onto his shorts and runs to the step staircase. I’m close behind him and take his hand as he places his foot on the first step. He proceeds to count again and it’s so like Henri. Boys at two are all inquisitive and talkative. Inside the house is so cold after Soren and I have been outside. I look at the clock on the wall, its 12:00 on the dot and I’m thankful to have Henley to keep me on track the first couple of days. I get the impression that Lars is less strict with Soren than Vilma but Henley is so precise I have to wonder about the other differences in the couple.
While Soren is eating his lunch I sit at the granite counter to talk to Henley, “Henley?”
“Yes Miss Babe?” He is still milling about; I assume preparing his own lunch.
“I just want to thank you for keeping me on track, I wasn't watching the time. I apologize.” I say sincerely.
He stops what he is doing, “No worries Miss Babe, I’m used to the schedule. Mr. Lars isn't nearly as punctual as Miss Vilma, but I figure it’s best to stay consistent. There’s less of a chance for me to mess up if I do. You’re new to all this, so it’s understandable on your first day.” He smiles genuinely. “Honestly this trip I don’t think Miss Vilma will be coming, Mr. Lars is taking Soren back to Sweden for their time off.”
“But they will return, right? I was told he was here until Halloween.” I ask.
“Yes, they’ll return, but I don’t think Miss Vilma will come back with them. She so wrapped up in her own projects.” He says wiping the counter; after he does he slips a plate in front of me.
“Thanks!” I say smiling at the chicken salad on a croissant with a single leaf of lettuce. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“I know.” Henley says smiling big and bright.
I begin to get wary, my mouth is somewhat full, “What do you mean, you know?” I chew and swallow.
Henley slides me a glass of ice water, “Mr. Lars likes to keep food in the house people will eat, so your father provided him a list of your favorite foods and meals…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask; half a sandwich in hand.
“Well, he said you don’t eat much. We picked up the lightest of the foods suggested. Chicken and Tuna salad, croissants, fruit, green leaf salad with blue cheese dressing…”
I cut him off, “Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you do have a little attitude about you?” He says surprised.
“Yeah, I do if provoked enough.”
“That’s good, which will help you with Justus.”
I wonder why Henley is so cryptic about Lars’ older son and after Autumn’s crush-like explanation of his occupation I just know there is something there, “Like I said, he can try. How old is he anyway?”
Henley looks up to the ceiling, thinking hard, “Thirty five, thirty six; somewhere around there.”
I nearly choke on my water; Soren and Henley stare at me, “I’m okay,” I laugh, “Thirty five?!” I am moderately shocked. Why would a thirty five year old man play around with the babysitter? Meeting this cat is going to be interesting and might be quite entertaining. I smile at myself, Henley is still watching me. Soren has returned to his lunch. I straighten up and finish eating because after lunch is Soren’s nap and I can do my own thing for a little while. This time is considered Henley’s break. He leaves the house after I get Soren to lie down. I go back into my room and pull out my cell. It’s 2:00 pm before I can function uninterrupted.
I send Scarlet a text since she will be getting out of school soon and search for a local art store. I’ll need canvas if I’m to do any painting. I charge my camera battery and plug my tablet up as well. After I plug my phone into the outlet closest to the bed I find an art supply place downtown; Arrow Fine on Castle St., I search for a nearby restaurant and find Jester’s Café not far from Arrow Fine on Castle. Tomorrow I’ll take Soren on an outing. When Henley returns I’ll arrange to be out, so he doesn't have to prepare any meals for us.
I get a reply from Scarlet, “Hey Mom, how’s NC?”
I smile at my strong independent daughter, “Good, a little less humid than home. I miss you.” I type.
“Miss you too, have fun. Sleep.”
“Love u.”
“Love you.” She replies and I make a mental note to call my Daddy after sundown.
I do various researches on my phone, areas of Emerald Isle I want to paint and historical hot spots. I know a few in and around Atlantic Beach; Fort Macon for starters. The town of Beaufort and the Maritime Museum, not to mention the water front has history a plenty. I also want to go to the Morehead City Art and History Museum.
But my time off can’t come fast enough, I want so desperately to hunt Cian down, like he did me. Find him and have him wrap me in his arms, before proceeding into other things. I can’t help but laugh out loud at my sexual silliness. I calm down and hear rustling in Soren’s room, I may have woken him. I creep over to my door and crack it open, instantly I see light pouring from his door. I open mine all the way and say sweetly to him, “Hi; did you have a nice nap?”
He is standing in his door, hair disheveled and rubbing his eye. His lips are pouted and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond to my question, which I am used to. But he is quiet, which I am not used to. Henri has a tendency to take his dreams too literally and the epiphany hits me; my poor baby. Vivid dreams must run in the family.
Soren stands with his arms out for me to pick him up, I do and it’s the first time I've held him. He is the same density as Henri and his hair as I stroke it is the same silky childlike texture. Soren lays his head on my shoulder as I walk down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen on my way to the great room and see Henley has returned already preparing Soren’s snack. I turn on the TV and even though it’s not TV time, I think Soren needs a minute to wake up. It’s not fun television, it’s CSPAN. The ticker at the bottom and constant talking always keeps Henri awake; for now it seems to work for Soren.
I leave him on the couch and pad into the kitchen, “Henley.” I say and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Babe! You scared the shi…daylights out of me!” He is clasping his chest.
“Oh my God Henley, I am so sorry; I didn't...mean…to.” I say laughing in between words. I had done this to my Mamma a lot, creep up on her. She hates being scared; I often got a dirty look and the silent treatment for an hour. I of course never mean to, it’s something I can’t control; quiet walker.
Henley lightens up and a relived smile comes across his lips, “That’s okay Miss Babe. Whoa girl; you gave me a good shock. I didn't hear you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” My tone is sincere. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” He asks.
“I want to take Soren on an outing. I was thinking the Battleship and then downtown by the waterfront is the colonial vessel. Also there is an art store…” He cuts me off.
“Miss Babe, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going; just that you’re going.” He says professionally.
“Oh, well…okay. Soren and I will be out tomorrow, no need to prepare our meals.” I say with a fake British accent, waving my hand around like aristocracy. Henley laughs as Soren’s feet slap into the kitchen.
“Hey little man!” Henley calls, “Are you ready for your snack?”
Soren climbs into his chair, “Yes.”
Henley places a cut apple and mini squares of cheese in front of Soren who dives in immediately. Turning back to the granite counter Henley grabs a cup of milk and hands it to the eating child.
“Tan ku.” Soren says with a mouth full of cheese. He takes the cup between his two hands and gulps down half of it.
“Wow, you must have been thirsty?!” I say looking to Soren and then Henley who is mirroring my wide eyes.
Soren puts the cup down and gasps, “Yes.” He then grabs a fist full of apple.
I turn to Henley who is cleaning up his prep area, “I see you met the neighbors.” He says.
“Yeah, I met Autumn. She’s a nice kid, talented surfer too.”
“Oh yes, Autumn is a very nice girl. She takes a lot of mess from those boys. But she and her brother have a great relationship; friendly siblings for the most part. I don’t know much about the other three.”
“She said they are her cousins. Adams is their last name.”
“Oh yes, Blake Adams’s boys.”
“Blake Adams?”
“Brooke Green’s sister.” I stare at Henley; he has gone so far over my head. “Autumn and Aaron are Brooke’s kids and the other three boys are her nephews, Blake Adams is their mother, Brooke’s sister. They manage those kids’ careers; they were in Australia for the season but they returned home because Aaron was stung pretty badly by a swarm of jellyfish.”
“Yikes.” I say.
“I’m surprised he’s in the water now. He was hospitalized over there.”
I look at the clock and it’s time for Soren’s “quiet play time in his room”. He is finishing his snack and hops down from the chair. I get up and follow him to the staircase; he holds his hand out for me to help him up.
In Soren’s room the furniture is white and bright, like the rest of the house. By his spaceship bed is a small table, on it a professional black and white portrait of a beautiful blonde woman. It is a simple black back drop lit perfectly to accent her facial features which are tilted upwards. Her blonde hair is spilled over her shoulder and she is smiling happily. Even in black and white print, her eyes are definitely light blue. I pick up the frame and gaze at her face. Soren teeters over to me and says, “Moder.” Which I assume is Swedish for “mother”.
Of course this is the cherubic boy’s mother. She looks like she was carved out of cream cheese, perfect. Vilma Gunnar is not as old as her husband Lars. She looks to be a couple of years older than me; oh, there is definitely some familial drama here. I replace the frame and see that Soren is engaged in his ritualistic quiet play time. I ask if he needs me, to which he simply replies, “No.”
I leave the room and linger outside the door to make sure he’s okay then turn to go into my room. I realize this time of day is my break, but I feel like Soren’s nap time is a decent enough break. I don’t argue, so I grab my keys and linen sack I’m using for a purse, sling it over my shoulder and bound quietly down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen and tell Henley I’m leaving. He waves and I close the door behind me. I climb into my car and open my bag rested in my lap. I packed my camera after the battery was charged and my care package from home reminded me to stop at a gas station or specialty store.
The key turns in the ignition and I back carefully out of the curved driveway. Making my way down South Lumina Ave I turn left onto Sunset Ave and stop to take a picture of an architecturally strange beach house. I get back on Lumina and stop at the first gas station I come across to buy a pack of papers. Back in my car I discretely break up and roll myself a joint. I stash it in the visor and secure everything back in my bag. I drive into down town Wilmington and park where there is availability. Camera in hand I take at least two hundred and fifty pictures around Downtown. I get close to the waterfront and shoot the Battleship from there. I check my cell for the time and I have a half hour until my break is over. I quickly make it back to my car and race back to Wrightsville Beach. I bound in the door and look in the kitchen, Henley is flipping through a Men’s Health magazine.
“Quiet as a mouse, Miss Babe.” Henley says looking at his magazine.
“Thanks Henley.” I skip the stairs and fling my bag inside my door. I open Soren’s, he is playing with an alphabet puzzle. “Hey, are you ready to come downstairs?” I ask, hands on hips.
He gets up from the floor and passes me out the door. I follow him to the top step; down we go…one, two, and three…Henley is still flipping through his magazine. Soren passes to gain access to the great room as I enter the kitchen. I can see Soren from here.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask Henley like I would my Mamma.
“Well, Mr. Lars is at a studio dinner tonight and he said Soren could have pizza for dinner.” He inflects his voice so Soren can hear, it works. The little boy runs into the kitchen wide eyed and smiling ear to ear. He hugs Henley and then me before running back out of the room.
“He likes pizza.” I say as more of a statement than a question.
“What kid you know doesn't?”
I tilt my head to relent, it’s very true. I assume we’re ordering since Henley is not mercilessly kneading dough in here, flour everywhere. I smile at the thought; Henley would do that for Soren if he asked it of him. “Where are we ordering from?”
“Vito’s; Soren’s favorite.”
Henley orders the pizza, it arrives and Soren chows down. I bathe him and let him play for fifteen minutes before pulling the plug on the drain. I dry him, dress him and get him comfortable in his bed. He has pre-picked five books to read tonight. He barely makes it to 8:00 and I tuck him in. I creep to the door and turn on a dim night light by it. I slowly secure the door and walk back into my room. I grab my bag and tablet before heading downstairs. Henley is packing up to leave for the evening when I plop down on the couch.
“Well, goodnight Miss Babe. See you first thing in the morning.” He says lingering at the open door.
I look back over the couch and wave, “Goodnight Henley.”
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Down on the beach Soren and I have erected a sand palace with four turrets and a drawbridge moat. He truly is a delightful little boy, smiling ear to ear the entire time. He is extremely excited when he sees the surfing neighbors doing their thing in the water. The young girl wipes out and comes up on shore, she is heading our way. I watch her warily; I don’t know how the Gunnar’s feel about their son talking to strangers, but I rebuff myself when Soren gets up and hugs the girl, “Autumn!” He shrills wrapping his arms around her legs.
“Hi Soren!” She rubs his head. “Hi, I’m Autumn Green.” She says to me.
“Babet Beauregard.” I say enthusiastically, “You have real talent.”
She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, I’m trying. My brother and cousins are much better. They’re older, so…” She trails off, typical teenager. “You are so lucky.” She says out of the blue.
“Oh?” I reply and I cup my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Autumn is tall for a girl and has chestnut hair. I can barely make out the color of her eyes, but from what I can see, they are a beautiful bright hazel.
She puts her hand on her hip and shifts her weight to one side, “Yeah, working for Justus Gunnar’s father. Oh man if I was older…I don’t care what the girls around here say. He’s HOT.”
“I haven’t met him.” I say shrugging.
Autumn stands up straight like a soldier, “You haven’t…I mean you don’t know who he is?!”
“No, he comes in to town Friday.” My tone is unchanging. “Who is he?” I know a teenage girl will dish about this guy if Henley won’t.
“He’s on one of those premium channel werewolf shows my Mom won’t let me watch. He’s this really hot biker dude…” She talks on and on about Justus’ television show and I‘ve honestly never heard of it but I listen intently. She turns back to the water when she hears her name.
“Autumn! Come on!” The tallest of the four is calling her, “You can’t get any better if you don’t stay in the water!” His tone is condescendingly loud.
She rolls her eyes again, “My brother, Aaron. The other three are Landon, Deacon and Tristan Adams; they’re my cousins.” She says pointing them out. “It was nice meeting you, I better get back. Bye Soren!” She says at a higher pitch but he is too involved in his castle building.
“You keep at it, the sport needs more girls.”
“I agree!” She says wholeheartedly, turning go bound back to the water.
“It was nice to meet you too.” I call after her. I look at Soren who is sculpting a small hill, “She’s nice, huh?”
“Yes.” He says while continuing to sculpt.
I’m honestly not keeping up with the time when Henley calls Soren in for lunch from the deck, “Lunch little man!”
Soren jumps up from the sand and brushes his hands off onto his shorts and runs to the step staircase. I’m close behind him and take his hand as he places his foot on the first step. He proceeds to count again and it’s so like Henri. Boys at two are all inquisitive and talkative. Inside the house is so cold after Soren and I have been outside. I look at the clock on the wall, its 12:00 on the dot and I’m thankful to have Henley to keep me on track the first couple of days. I get the impression that Lars is less strict with Soren than Vilma but Henley is so precise I have to wonder about the other differences in the couple.
While Soren is eating his lunch I sit at the granite counter to talk to Henley, “Henley?”
“Yes Miss Babe?” He is still milling about; I assume preparing his own lunch.
“I just want to thank you for keeping me on track, I wasn't watching the time. I apologize.” I say sincerely.
He stops what he is doing, “No worries Miss Babe, I’m used to the schedule. Mr. Lars isn't nearly as punctual as Miss Vilma, but I figure it’s best to stay consistent. There’s less of a chance for me to mess up if I do. You’re new to all this, so it’s understandable on your first day.” He smiles genuinely. “Honestly this trip I don’t think Miss Vilma will be coming, Mr. Lars is taking Soren back to Sweden for their time off.”
“But they will return, right? I was told he was here until Halloween.” I ask.
“Yes, they’ll return, but I don’t think Miss Vilma will come back with them. She so wrapped up in her own projects.” He says wiping the counter; after he does he slips a plate in front of me.
“Thanks!” I say smiling at the chicken salad on a croissant with a single leaf of lettuce. “This is one of my favorite meals.”
“I know.” Henley says smiling big and bright.
I begin to get wary, my mouth is somewhat full, “What do you mean, you know?” I chew and swallow.
Henley slides me a glass of ice water, “Mr. Lars likes to keep food in the house people will eat, so your father provided him a list of your favorite foods and meals…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask; half a sandwich in hand.
“Well, he said you don’t eat much. We picked up the lightest of the foods suggested. Chicken and Tuna salad, croissants, fruit, green leaf salad with blue cheese dressing…”
I cut him off, “Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, so you do have a little attitude about you?” He says surprised.
“Yeah, I do if provoked enough.”
“That’s good, which will help you with Justus.”
I wonder why Henley is so cryptic about Lars’ older son and after Autumn’s crush-like explanation of his occupation I just know there is something there, “Like I said, he can try. How old is he anyway?”
Henley looks up to the ceiling, thinking hard, “Thirty five, thirty six; somewhere around there.”
I nearly choke on my water; Soren and Henley stare at me, “I’m okay,” I laugh, “Thirty five?!” I am moderately shocked. Why would a thirty five year old man play around with the babysitter? Meeting this cat is going to be interesting and might be quite entertaining. I smile at myself, Henley is still watching me. Soren has returned to his lunch. I straighten up and finish eating because after lunch is Soren’s nap and I can do my own thing for a little while. This time is considered Henley’s break. He leaves the house after I get Soren to lie down. I go back into my room and pull out my cell. It’s 2:00 pm before I can function uninterrupted.
I send Scarlet a text since she will be getting out of school soon and search for a local art store. I’ll need canvas if I’m to do any painting. I charge my camera battery and plug my tablet up as well. After I plug my phone into the outlet closest to the bed I find an art supply place downtown; Arrow Fine on Castle St., I search for a nearby restaurant and find Jester’s Café not far from Arrow Fine on Castle. Tomorrow I’ll take Soren on an outing. When Henley returns I’ll arrange to be out, so he doesn't have to prepare any meals for us.
I get a reply from Scarlet, “Hey Mom, how’s NC?”
I smile at my strong independent daughter, “Good, a little less humid than home. I miss you.” I type.
“Miss you too, have fun. Sleep.”
“Love u.”
“Love you.” She replies and I make a mental note to call my Daddy after sundown.
I do various researches on my phone, areas of Emerald Isle I want to paint and historical hot spots. I know a few in and around Atlantic Beach; Fort Macon for starters. The town of Beaufort and the Maritime Museum, not to mention the water front has history a plenty. I also want to go to the Morehead City Art and History Museum.
But my time off can’t come fast enough, I want so desperately to hunt Cian down, like he did me. Find him and have him wrap me in his arms, before proceeding into other things. I can’t help but laugh out loud at my sexual silliness. I calm down and hear rustling in Soren’s room, I may have woken him. I creep over to my door and crack it open, instantly I see light pouring from his door. I open mine all the way and say sweetly to him, “Hi; did you have a nice nap?”
He is standing in his door, hair disheveled and rubbing his eye. His lips are pouted and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond to my question, which I am used to. But he is quiet, which I am not used to. Henri has a tendency to take his dreams too literally and the epiphany hits me; my poor baby. Vivid dreams must run in the family.
Soren stands with his arms out for me to pick him up, I do and it’s the first time I've held him. He is the same density as Henri and his hair as I stroke it is the same silky childlike texture. Soren lays his head on my shoulder as I walk down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen on my way to the great room and see Henley has returned already preparing Soren’s snack. I turn on the TV and even though it’s not TV time, I think Soren needs a minute to wake up. It’s not fun television, it’s CSPAN. The ticker at the bottom and constant talking always keeps Henri awake; for now it seems to work for Soren.
I leave him on the couch and pad into the kitchen, “Henley.” I say and he nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Babe! You scared the shi…daylights out of me!” He is clasping his chest.
“Oh my God Henley, I am so sorry; I didn't...mean…to.” I say laughing in between words. I had done this to my Mamma a lot, creep up on her. She hates being scared; I often got a dirty look and the silent treatment for an hour. I of course never mean to, it’s something I can’t control; quiet walker.
Henley lightens up and a relived smile comes across his lips, “That’s okay Miss Babe. Whoa girl; you gave me a good shock. I didn't hear you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” My tone is sincere. “I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?” He asks.
“I want to take Soren on an outing. I was thinking the Battleship and then downtown by the waterfront is the colonial vessel. Also there is an art store…” He cuts me off.
“Miss Babe, you don’t have to tell me where you’re going; just that you’re going.” He says professionally.
“Oh, well…okay. Soren and I will be out tomorrow, no need to prepare our meals.” I say with a fake British accent, waving my hand around like aristocracy. Henley laughs as Soren’s feet slap into the kitchen.
“Hey little man!” Henley calls, “Are you ready for your snack?”
Soren climbs into his chair, “Yes.”
Henley places a cut apple and mini squares of cheese in front of Soren who dives in immediately. Turning back to the granite counter Henley grabs a cup of milk and hands it to the eating child.
“Tan ku.” Soren says with a mouth full of cheese. He takes the cup between his two hands and gulps down half of it.
“Wow, you must have been thirsty?!” I say looking to Soren and then Henley who is mirroring my wide eyes.
Soren puts the cup down and gasps, “Yes.” He then grabs a fist full of apple.
I turn to Henley who is cleaning up his prep area, “I see you met the neighbors.” He says.
“Yeah, I met Autumn. She’s a nice kid, talented surfer too.”
“Oh yes, Autumn is a very nice girl. She takes a lot of mess from those boys. But she and her brother have a great relationship; friendly siblings for the most part. I don’t know much about the other three.”
“She said they are her cousins. Adams is their last name.”
“Oh yes, Blake Adams’s boys.”
“Blake Adams?”
“Brooke Green’s sister.” I stare at Henley; he has gone so far over my head. “Autumn and Aaron are Brooke’s kids and the other three boys are her nephews, Blake Adams is their mother, Brooke’s sister. They manage those kids’ careers; they were in Australia for the season but they returned home because Aaron was stung pretty badly by a swarm of jellyfish.”
“Yikes.” I say.
“I’m surprised he’s in the water now. He was hospitalized over there.”
I look at the clock and it’s time for Soren’s “quiet play time in his room”. He is finishing his snack and hops down from the chair. I get up and follow him to the staircase; he holds his hand out for me to help him up.
In Soren’s room the furniture is white and bright, like the rest of the house. By his spaceship bed is a small table, on it a professional black and white portrait of a beautiful blonde woman. It is a simple black back drop lit perfectly to accent her facial features which are tilted upwards. Her blonde hair is spilled over her shoulder and she is smiling happily. Even in black and white print, her eyes are definitely light blue. I pick up the frame and gaze at her face. Soren teeters over to me and says, “Moder.” Which I assume is Swedish for “mother”.
Of course this is the cherubic boy’s mother. She looks like she was carved out of cream cheese, perfect. Vilma Gunnar is not as old as her husband Lars. She looks to be a couple of years older than me; oh, there is definitely some familial drama here. I replace the frame and see that Soren is engaged in his ritualistic quiet play time. I ask if he needs me, to which he simply replies, “No.”
I leave the room and linger outside the door to make sure he’s okay then turn to go into my room. I realize this time of day is my break, but I feel like Soren’s nap time is a decent enough break. I don’t argue, so I grab my keys and linen sack I’m using for a purse, sling it over my shoulder and bound quietly down the stairs. I peek into the kitchen and tell Henley I’m leaving. He waves and I close the door behind me. I climb into my car and open my bag rested in my lap. I packed my camera after the battery was charged and my care package from home reminded me to stop at a gas station or specialty store.
The key turns in the ignition and I back carefully out of the curved driveway. Making my way down South Lumina Ave I turn left onto Sunset Ave and stop to take a picture of an architecturally strange beach house. I get back on Lumina and stop at the first gas station I come across to buy a pack of papers. Back in my car I discretely break up and roll myself a joint. I stash it in the visor and secure everything back in my bag. I drive into down town Wilmington and park where there is availability. Camera in hand I take at least two hundred and fifty pictures around Downtown. I get close to the waterfront and shoot the Battleship from there. I check my cell for the time and I have a half hour until my break is over. I quickly make it back to my car and race back to Wrightsville Beach. I bound in the door and look in the kitchen, Henley is flipping through a Men’s Health magazine.
“Quiet as a mouse, Miss Babe.” Henley says looking at his magazine.
“Thanks Henley.” I skip the stairs and fling my bag inside my door. I open Soren’s, he is playing with an alphabet puzzle. “Hey, are you ready to come downstairs?” I ask, hands on hips.
He gets up from the floor and passes me out the door. I follow him to the top step; down we go…one, two, and three…Henley is still flipping through his magazine. Soren passes to gain access to the great room as I enter the kitchen. I can see Soren from here.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask Henley like I would my Mamma.
“Well, Mr. Lars is at a studio dinner tonight and he said Soren could have pizza for dinner.” He inflects his voice so Soren can hear, it works. The little boy runs into the kitchen wide eyed and smiling ear to ear. He hugs Henley and then me before running back out of the room.
“He likes pizza.” I say as more of a statement than a question.
“What kid you know doesn't?”
I tilt my head to relent, it’s very true. I assume we’re ordering since Henley is not mercilessly kneading dough in here, flour everywhere. I smile at the thought; Henley would do that for Soren if he asked it of him. “Where are we ordering from?”
“Vito’s; Soren’s favorite.”
Henley orders the pizza, it arrives and Soren chows down. I bathe him and let him play for fifteen minutes before pulling the plug on the drain. I dry him, dress him and get him comfortable in his bed. He has pre-picked five books to read tonight. He barely makes it to 8:00 and I tuck him in. I creep to the door and turn on a dim night light by it. I slowly secure the door and walk back into my room. I grab my bag and tablet before heading downstairs. Henley is packing up to leave for the evening when I plop down on the couch.
“Well, goodnight Miss Babe. See you first thing in the morning.” He says lingering at the open door.
I look back over the couch and wave, “Goodnight Henley.”
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
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