Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "books"
Kaloo!! Kalay!! BLOGS for the HOLIDAY!!!
Paul Anthony Associates Book Blog Tour.
Welcome to the Christmas Blog Tour: A group of authors entertaining their readers with some thrilling tales of fiction. Lets’ find out what they are up to at the moment. Santa Claus wants to ask some questions. Indeed, they’ve all been asked the same questions as they introduce themselves and their work. So, let’s hear what they have to say. First up is AUGUSTA FERN.
Q. Whereabouts do you live, AUGUSTA FERN.
A. I live in Raleigh, North Carolina
Q. Would you describe yourself as a full time writer or do you have another job?
A. Technically I am a full time writer, but I freelance at lots of things. For the moment I am an organizational representative.
Q. How do you spend your leisure time?
A. I visit the beach regularly, Emerald Isle, NC. Playing with my son or watching chick flicks with my daughter. My husband and I enjoy live music.
Q. Name three people you would like to entertain for Christmas dinner and why?
A. Alive: David Sedaris – Because we could banter about Raleigh and Emerald Isle. Dead: Lewis Carroll so I could have the perfect Alice in Wonderland Christmas. Fictional character: Sookie Stackhouse in hopes of meeting one of her paranormal boyfriends.
Q. If you could live anywhere in the world this Christmas, where would it be?
A. Paris.
Q. If you had one Christmas wish, what would it be?
A. To have the entire world read my words.
Q. Describe yourself using only three ‘Christmas’ words.
A. Festive. Merry. Bright.
Q. What makes Christmas special for you?
A. Time spent with family, the laughter echoing the halls when my grandpa tells a story about his annual summer trip to Colorado. The smiling faces children, grandchildren and great grandchildren on Christmas morning. My grandma’s Methodist (cinnamon) rolls.
Q. What is your favorite childhood memory of Christmas?
A. I have a large family and we all used to be able to get together, but life and growing up (for us kids) gets in the way but those Christmases when we are ALL together are epic.
Q. What is the worst Christmas you have ever experienced?
A. The year my parents divorced.
Q. Are you currently published for Christmas or do you have a ‘work in action’ you can tell us about?
A. I have two novels currently published, Revelations of Cian and Babet’s Epiphany – both available on Amazon.
Q. Tell us about your work and what influenced you to write in this exciting genre?
A. I’ve had a love for the pale immortal since I was 10 years old. My mother took me with her to see Bram Stoker’s Dracula in the theatre.
Q Do you have a particular character that figures consistently or are you in the stage of developing a lead character?
A. In my first novel Cian is the main character and even though he is not constant in the follow up he is consistently mentioned. The final instalment he is present and half of the story is from his perspective.
Q. Where can we find out more about your work?
A. Revelations of Cian - http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Babet’s Epiphany - http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Q. And where can we follow and support you on social media sites?
A. Author Website: http://morteseries.augustafern.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/augustafern
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/augustafern/mort... http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
MARSocial: http://marsocial.com/augustafern/
FaceBook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AugustaFERNA...
Instagram: http://instagram.com/a_m_fern
Q. Santa Claus thanks you for taking part in this interview, AUGUSTA FERN and wishes you good luck with your writing in the years ahead.
A. Thank you. Can I invite you to meet my friends in this wonderful world of writing? Just click on the names below and you’ll find yourself reading a different set of answers to the same questions. Please support my friends and fellow authors by visiting their sites and checking out their contribution. Thank you for joining me on my blog tour.
PS You do believe….. Don’t you?
1. Maria Swan http://mariagraziaswan.com/christmas-...
2. Jean Reinhardt http://jeanreinhardt.wordpress.com/pa...
3. Jennifer Gegl http://micropreemie.net/uncategorized...
5. Joan Fallon http://www.joanfallon.co.uk/blog.html
6. Meg Johnston http://paulanthonys.blogspot.co.uk/20...
Welcome to the Christmas Blog Tour: A group of authors entertaining their readers with some thrilling tales of fiction. Lets’ find out what they are up to at the moment. Santa Claus wants to ask some questions. Indeed, they’ve all been asked the same questions as they introduce themselves and their work. So, let’s hear what they have to say. First up is AUGUSTA FERN.
Q. Whereabouts do you live, AUGUSTA FERN.
A. I live in Raleigh, North Carolina
Q. Would you describe yourself as a full time writer or do you have another job?
A. Technically I am a full time writer, but I freelance at lots of things. For the moment I am an organizational representative.
Q. How do you spend your leisure time?
A. I visit the beach regularly, Emerald Isle, NC. Playing with my son or watching chick flicks with my daughter. My husband and I enjoy live music.
Q. Name three people you would like to entertain for Christmas dinner and why?
A. Alive: David Sedaris – Because we could banter about Raleigh and Emerald Isle. Dead: Lewis Carroll so I could have the perfect Alice in Wonderland Christmas. Fictional character: Sookie Stackhouse in hopes of meeting one of her paranormal boyfriends.
Q. If you could live anywhere in the world this Christmas, where would it be?
A. Paris.
Q. If you had one Christmas wish, what would it be?
A. To have the entire world read my words.
Q. Describe yourself using only three ‘Christmas’ words.
A. Festive. Merry. Bright.
Q. What makes Christmas special for you?
A. Time spent with family, the laughter echoing the halls when my grandpa tells a story about his annual summer trip to Colorado. The smiling faces children, grandchildren and great grandchildren on Christmas morning. My grandma’s Methodist (cinnamon) rolls.
Q. What is your favorite childhood memory of Christmas?
A. I have a large family and we all used to be able to get together, but life and growing up (for us kids) gets in the way but those Christmases when we are ALL together are epic.
Q. What is the worst Christmas you have ever experienced?
A. The year my parents divorced.
Q. Are you currently published for Christmas or do you have a ‘work in action’ you can tell us about?
A. I have two novels currently published, Revelations of Cian and Babet’s Epiphany – both available on Amazon.
Q. Tell us about your work and what influenced you to write in this exciting genre?
A. I’ve had a love for the pale immortal since I was 10 years old. My mother took me with her to see Bram Stoker’s Dracula in the theatre.
Q Do you have a particular character that figures consistently or are you in the stage of developing a lead character?
A. In my first novel Cian is the main character and even though he is not constant in the follow up he is consistently mentioned. The final instalment he is present and half of the story is from his perspective.
Q. Where can we find out more about your work?
A. Revelations of Cian - http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Babet’s Epiphany - http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Q. And where can we follow and support you on social media sites?
A. Author Website: http://morteseries.augustafern.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/augustafern
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/augustafern/mort... http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
MARSocial: http://marsocial.com/augustafern/
FaceBook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AugustaFERNA...
Instagram: http://instagram.com/a_m_fern
Q. Santa Claus thanks you for taking part in this interview, AUGUSTA FERN and wishes you good luck with your writing in the years ahead.
A. Thank you. Can I invite you to meet my friends in this wonderful world of writing? Just click on the names below and you’ll find yourself reading a different set of answers to the same questions. Please support my friends and fellow authors by visiting their sites and checking out their contribution. Thank you for joining me on my blog tour.
PS You do believe….. Don’t you?
1. Maria Swan http://mariagraziaswan.com/christmas-...
2. Jean Reinhardt http://jeanreinhardt.wordpress.com/pa...
3. Jennifer Gegl http://micropreemie.net/uncategorized...
5. Joan Fallon http://www.joanfallon.co.uk/blog.html
6. Meg Johnston http://paulanthonys.blogspot.co.uk/20...
Holiday Blogs!!!
Paul Anthony Associates Book Blog Tour.
Welcome to the Christmas Blog Tour: A group of authors entertaining their readers with some thrilling tales of fiction. Lets’ find out what they are up to at the moment. Santa Claus wants to ask some questions. Indeed, they’ve all been asked the same questions as they introduce themselves and their work. So, let’s hear what they have to say. First up is AUGUSTA FERN.
Q. Whereabouts do you live, AUGUSTA FERN.
A. I live in Raleigh, North Carolina
Q. Would you describe yourself as a full time writer or do you have another job?
A. Technically I am a full time writer, but I freelance at lots of things. For the moment I am an organizational representative.
Q. How do you spend your leisure time?
A. I visit the beach regularly, Emerald Isle, NC. Playing with my son or watching chick flicks with my daughter. My husband and I enjoy live music.
Q. Name three people you would like to entertain for Christmas dinner and why?
A. Alive: David Sedaris – Because we could banter about Raleigh and Emerald Isle. Dead: Lewis Carroll so I could have the perfect Alice in Wonderland Christmas. Fictional character: Sookie Stackhouse in hopes of meeting one of her paranormal boyfriends.
Q. If you could live anywhere in the world this Christmas, where would it be?
A. Paris.
Q. If you had one Christmas wish, what would it be?
A. To have the entire world read my words.
Q. Describe yourself using only three ‘Christmas’ words.
A. Festive. Merry. Bright.
Q. What makes Christmas special for you?
A. Time spent with family, the laughter echoing the halls when my grandpa tells a story about his annual summer trip to Colorado. The smiling faces children, grandchildren and great grandchildren on Christmas morning. My grandma’s Methodist (cinnamon) rolls.
Q. What is your favourite childhood memory of Christmas?
A. I have a large family and we all used to be able to get together, but life and growing up (for us kids) gets in the way but those Christmases when we are ALL together are epic.
Q. What is the worst Christmas you have ever experienced?
A. The year my parents divorced.
Q. Are you currently published for Christmas or do you have a ‘work in action’ you can tell us about?
A. I have two novels currently published, Revelations of Cian and Babet’s Epiphany – both available on Amazon.
Q. Tell us about your work and what influenced you to write in this exciting genre?
A. I’ve had a love for the pale immortal since I was 10 years old. My mother took me with her to see Bram Stoker’s Dracula in the theatre.
Q Do you have a particular character that figures consistently or are you in the stage of developing a lead character?
A. In my first novel Cian is the main character and even though he is not constant in the follow up he is consistently mentioned. The final instalment he is present and half of the story is from his perspective.
Q. Where can we find out more about your work?
A. Revelations of Cian - http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Babet’s Epiphany - http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Q. And where can we follow and support you on social media sites?
A. Author Website: http://morteseries.augustafern.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/augustafern
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/augustafern/mort... http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
MARSocial: http://marsocial.com/augustafern/
FaceBook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AugustaFERNA...
Instagram: http://instagram.com/a_m_fern
Q. Santa Claus thanks you for taking part in this interview, AUGUSTA FERN and wishes you good luck with your writing in the years ahead.
A. Thank you. Can I invite you to meet my friends in this wonderful world of writing? Just click on the names below and you’ll find yourself reading a different set of answers to the same questions. Please support my friends and fellow authors by visiting their sites and checking out their contribution. Thank you for joining me on my blog tour.
PS You do believe….. Don’t you?
1. Maria Swan http://mariagraziaswan.com/christmas-...
2. Jean Reinhardt http://jeanreinhardt.wordpress.com/wi...
3. Jennifer Gegl http://micropreemie.net/uncategorized...
5. Joan Fallon http://www.joanfallon.co.uk/blog.html
6. Meg Johnston http://paulanthonys.blogspot.co.uk/20...
Welcome to the Christmas Blog Tour: A group of authors entertaining their readers with some thrilling tales of fiction. Lets’ find out what they are up to at the moment. Santa Claus wants to ask some questions. Indeed, they’ve all been asked the same questions as they introduce themselves and their work. So, let’s hear what they have to say. First up is AUGUSTA FERN.
Q. Whereabouts do you live, AUGUSTA FERN.
A. I live in Raleigh, North Carolina
Q. Would you describe yourself as a full time writer or do you have another job?
A. Technically I am a full time writer, but I freelance at lots of things. For the moment I am an organizational representative.
Q. How do you spend your leisure time?
A. I visit the beach regularly, Emerald Isle, NC. Playing with my son or watching chick flicks with my daughter. My husband and I enjoy live music.
Q. Name three people you would like to entertain for Christmas dinner and why?
A. Alive: David Sedaris – Because we could banter about Raleigh and Emerald Isle. Dead: Lewis Carroll so I could have the perfect Alice in Wonderland Christmas. Fictional character: Sookie Stackhouse in hopes of meeting one of her paranormal boyfriends.
Q. If you could live anywhere in the world this Christmas, where would it be?
A. Paris.
Q. If you had one Christmas wish, what would it be?
A. To have the entire world read my words.
Q. Describe yourself using only three ‘Christmas’ words.
A. Festive. Merry. Bright.
Q. What makes Christmas special for you?
A. Time spent with family, the laughter echoing the halls when my grandpa tells a story about his annual summer trip to Colorado. The smiling faces children, grandchildren and great grandchildren on Christmas morning. My grandma’s Methodist (cinnamon) rolls.
Q. What is your favourite childhood memory of Christmas?
A. I have a large family and we all used to be able to get together, but life and growing up (for us kids) gets in the way but those Christmases when we are ALL together are epic.
Q. What is the worst Christmas you have ever experienced?
A. The year my parents divorced.
Q. Are you currently published for Christmas or do you have a ‘work in action’ you can tell us about?
A. I have two novels currently published, Revelations of Cian and Babet’s Epiphany – both available on Amazon.
Q. Tell us about your work and what influenced you to write in this exciting genre?
A. I’ve had a love for the pale immortal since I was 10 years old. My mother took me with her to see Bram Stoker’s Dracula in the theatre.
Q Do you have a particular character that figures consistently or are you in the stage of developing a lead character?
A. In my first novel Cian is the main character and even though he is not constant in the follow up he is consistently mentioned. The final instalment he is present and half of the story is from his perspective.
Q. Where can we find out more about your work?
A. Revelations of Cian - http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Babet’s Epiphany - http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Q. And where can we follow and support you on social media sites?
A. Author Website: http://morteseries.augustafern.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/augustafern
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/augustafern/mort... http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
MARSocial: http://marsocial.com/augustafern/
FaceBook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AugustaFERNA...
Instagram: http://instagram.com/a_m_fern
Q. Santa Claus thanks you for taking part in this interview, AUGUSTA FERN and wishes you good luck with your writing in the years ahead.
A. Thank you. Can I invite you to meet my friends in this wonderful world of writing? Just click on the names below and you’ll find yourself reading a different set of answers to the same questions. Please support my friends and fellow authors by visiting their sites and checking out their contribution. Thank you for joining me on my blog tour.
PS You do believe….. Don’t you?
1. Maria Swan http://mariagraziaswan.com/christmas-...
2. Jean Reinhardt http://jeanreinhardt.wordpress.com/wi...
3. Jennifer Gegl http://micropreemie.net/uncategorized...
5. Joan Fallon http://www.joanfallon.co.uk/blog.html
6. Meg Johnston http://paulanthonys.blogspot.co.uk/20...
FREE for HALLOWEEN!!
OFFICIAL!!
Had some issues at ZERO hour, but low and behold it's all good now!!
FREE FREE FREE for HALLOWEEN!!! Get both books 1 and 2 of the Morte’ Series free for Halloween!!!
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Had some issues at ZERO hour, but low and behold it's all good now!!
FREE FREE FREE for HALLOWEEN!!! Get both books 1 and 2 of the Morte’ Series free for Halloween!!!
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Chapter ONE
Chapter 1
It’s August, and August in New Orleans is hotter than the bluest blazes of hell. It’s been six months. Six months since I last saw…a lot can happen in six months. The tattoo gun vibrates my hand as I work but my thoughts are on all that has transpired. Scarlet is back at school and thriving; utilizing her minimal gifts. Henri is talking a mile a minute; colors, shapes, letters and numbers. My little tape recorder. Mamma is all consumed with the children; which has been a bit of a blessing for me. Searching for a new place is never easy, though my parents are over the moon that we are living at the house.
Luckily I was able to talk Frankie into letting me buy into her Pardido location and set up my tattoo business. Certification was less than difficult and given my reputation in the city I was able to bypass the apprentice process. With a portion of the insurance money from the fire I was to not only able buy all my equipment but renovate a nook for myself and my clients inside the salon.
The most interesting event during this time is my Daddy’s debut back into society, human and vampire alike. Questions of course were brought up, but Daddy fabricated some non-sense about witness protection and plastic surgery for the humans. He needed no excuses for the vampires, his reputation preceding him. And how he got the city to relinquish the house is beyond me. The house is busy, but not with tourists; my Daddy’s vampire coven are in and out at all hours of the night. I know this because I’ve become a borderline insomniac since Cian left.
When I don’t sleep, which is often, I paint. Albeit manically and occasionally while crying incessantly. My old room is littered with canvases, paint tubes and brushes. Mamma made me cover the entire floor with a tarp so not to destroy the original hardwoods and Daddy takes each piece as soon as it’s complete. I take a picture of it and upload it to my tablet for future reference, but because of the fire and ALL my work going up in flames Daddy locks the finished pieces away in his fire proof vault room. So far I’ve painted and Daddy has locked away, eighteen portraits; most of the paintings are depictions of what happened that March night. I also painted Mamma and Daddy as they are now, along with portraits of Scarlet and Henri. The house grounds are the perfect backdrop.
On a personal level I had a friend permanently ink Mora’s final death on my left bicep. My tattoo shows human warrior goddess Collette, her spiked heels implanted in Mora’s clavicles, staking her from overhead. I embellished it a little. I get lots of comments on it, “Where did you come up with the idea?” They ask. Of course I cannot divulge such information, stating it came to me in a dream.
Another visible change is my hair, which shocks even me when I look in the mirror. I let Frankie talk me into an A-line razor bob. It looks great and I feel like a new person but I wonder what he will think when…if he sees me. I get a nauseous pinging in my stomach at this thought.
The good always comes with a little bad and the negativity of our new lives is small, but it’s relevant. Griffin’s mother attempted to blackmail my Daddy; claiming she knew he had something to do with her son’s death. She was so adamant that when she arrived at the house to discuss the situation she disowned Henri completely. If I was honest with myself I would say, Good Riddance. I know she didn’t like me when I married her only son; but she was always very harsh with regard to Scarlet. She showed her true colors and left with a check. The money wasn’t to keep her quiet; my Daddy didn’t care if she said anything to anyone, it was to keep her out of our lives.
My thought are interrupted by Calista LeBeau; my last client of the day,“Ooh!”
She and I attended high school together and she has always been one of the few girls I can consider a friend. She is a sprite of a girl. Petite and thin, she has shoulder length reddish brown hair almost the color of Dr. Pepper. I’m tattooing an intricate Celtic knot on her right forearm. She recently married into an Irish family and wanted to reflect her husband’s heritage.
“Sorry Calista,” I say hoping my hand didn’t get too heavy. I change the subject, “What is your new last name Mrs.?”
“Please, Babe. Tattoos hurt and I am officially Calista Keever.” She holds her head up pompously, then laughs as I continue.
“Keever; that’s a good, strong, Irish name. Congratulations; again.” I say smiling, keeping my eyes on her arm.
“Thanks!” I hear the elation of being a new bride in her voice.
Frankie rounds the corner of my little nook, “Hey; your Dad is on line four.”
“Thanks Frank.” I say as she turns to go back to her client. I look over to Calista who is admiring her new ink, “You mind if we take a break Calista?”
“Take your time Babe.”
“Thanks.” I remove my gloves, discarding them in the trashcan by my door.
I don’t keep a phone in my part of the salon, it’s too distracting ringing off the hook all day. But that’s success isn’t it and Frankie is successful.
Very successful, the shop is still loaded. Every chair is full even though the sun has gone down and the hair is flying. I get hit with the smell of ammonia and sulfur; color, perm, and cuts; highlight and lowlight, waxing, tanning, nails…and tattoo. It’s a lucrative business for sure.
Frankie hands me a cordless phone from her station, “Your Daddy calling here is going to take some getting used to.” She laughs, I reciprocate.
“Daddy?”
“Hey baby girl, how’s your day today?” My Daddy is so sweet but I can hear something behind it.
“Good, just finishing up for the day.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s in your chair at the moment?” My Daddy is so fascinated by my newest endeavor.
“Calista LeBeau, now Keever; she said to tell you welcome home.” I sound just as sweet waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“She’s such a nice girl, good family the LeBeau’s. Tell her Congratulations from your Mother and me.” He says and then he is silent.
“Daddy, you there?”
“Yeah…sorry I was taking paperwork from Alistair. Babe, I have an actor friend from Sweden who will be in Wilmington filming a movie…” he trails off again.
“Wilmington, North Carolina? Daddy?” I hear background voices and rustling papers.
“Yes, would you be interested in taking an au pair job for the next couple of months? I know its short notice but you can paint while you’re there and I know for a fact he is interested in having you paint his son’s portraits.”
I’m silent at first swirling everything together. I would have a lot of affairs to get in order before I go, if I go. I would need to discuss it with Frankie…and Scarlet.
My Daddy doesn’t let me answer, “I’ve discussed it with Frankie and she agrees you need some time away.”
My brow furrows as I begin to feel as if I’m being plotted against, “You talked to Frankie?” My tone is harsh.
“Babe, before you get upset, we all feel that, you threw yourself into work after everything in March. You received the insurance money and immediately talked to Frankie. You got certified and boom started. You don’t sleep, we all know you don’t. You need a vacation, honey.” His tone is pleading.
I can’t say no to my Daddy, “Of course Daddy, a working vacation.” I laugh.
“Think of it as a way to expand your new portfolio, besides you may get some time to go back to Emerald Isle, since those paintings are gone.”
I gasp and I know this is a hint if not a coax from my Daddy, “Thanks Daddy.” I say like I did when I was a little girl.
“I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you.”
I hang up the phone and turn to see the entire salon staring at me. I feel flush as they all resume their previous tasks except Frankie who is waiting for me to tell her I will need some time off. She winks at me, I roll my eyes and a smile comes from the side of my mouth.
“Can we talk later?” I ask.
“Of course, darlin’!” She squeals before applying another foil.
The salon is finally closed and everyone but Frankie and I have gone. I’m cleaning my nook while she pours over the day’s numbers. I peek my head in her door after I’m done to discuss my “vacation” time.
“Hey.” I say sitting in one of two ultra modern chairs, my tone is wary.
“Hey.” Frankie says smiling.
“Okay, so what did my Daddy say to you?” I ask laying it all out on the table.
“He said he had an artistic opportunity for you and I agreed that you could use some time off. If not from the shop; the city.”
I nod my head silently.
“He said he could get a replacement, but I told him you wouldn’t like that. He understood.” Frankie is such a good friend and knows me so well. “I told him not to worry and I’m telling you the same. Babe, you need closure from it all. Griffin’s death, your studio and your Dad coming back. I swear girl, you are strong as steel. I would be in a straight jacket if it were me.”
Frankie exaggerates; she is one of the strongest women I know. Starting her business at such a young age and being a successful entrepreneur takes serious guts and Frankie has them for sure.
“Two months though?”
“Yes, but how long have you been trying to get back to North Carolina? Thirteen years?” Frankie eyes me speculatively.
“That’s true.”
“And Cian?”
Again the sound of his name brings butterflies to my stomach and my heart in my throat. I will never forget the conversation with Frankie and Molly about my Scottish friend.
_________________________________________________________________________________
My cell vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans as I walk through the grocery store and I know by the ringtone it’s Frankie. Queen’s of the Stone Age “Little Sister” plays until I press the talk button.
“Hey girly!” I say with exuberance because I know exactly where this is headed.
“Hey yourself, Babe.” Her tone is humorously inquisitive.
“What are you up to today?” I ask
“Nice try Babe, what is up with that gorgeous man you were with at Molly’s party?”
I laugh, “He’s just a friend.” A friend who has me irrevocably vexed. A wave of sexual tension rises when I remember our kiss.
“Mmhhmm.” She says and I hear the laughter coming. “A friend of Aunt Estella?”
“Yes.” I say pushing the cart mindlessly. Henri is pointing and trying to grab everything.
“Where are you right now?”
“The grocery store, why?”
“Come have lunch with me and Molly. Its 10:30 now, meet us at Gazebo Café at 12:00.”
“Okay, I have Henri though.”
“Aw, petite Henri!” She shrills.
“Ha, he’s not that small anymore. Listen, I will finish up here and head back to Estella’s to unload. I’ll see you girls in an hour and half.”
“Yay! Okay, Luvies!” Frankie sings.
“Luvies.” I mirror.
I get what we need for the week, pay and load my car. After securing Henri in his seat I drive back to Audubon. Henri at two is already a big helper, carrying the bread for me. I pile the bags on the granite counter and begin to unload the groceries. All the while I am checking the time, it’s nearly 11:15 and I definitely can’t go to lunch with the girls in jeans and a t-shirt. I scoop up Henri and head upstairs, he points at the cannon style bed and I oblige him after removing his shoes. He jumps up and down on it while I slip on a pair of crimson and cream damask shorts, boat neck long-sleeved shirt and flip flops. I gather my hair into a ponytail and grab Henri off the bed to make my way down the stairs.
Back in the car the clock reads 11:36. If I can make it to Gazebo before the girls, I can settle Henri with some French Fries and ranch dressing. Parking isn’t the easiest feat near the Square, but I get lucky. I hold Henri’s hand as we walk through the vendor tables, bending to him when he points to something. I explain what it is and he repeats. We luckily make it to the café before Molly and Frankie; I immediately order Henri’s fries.
“Fries!” He says, “My fries.”
“Yes, your fries. They have to cook.” I explain.
“Ooh Hot.” He says eyes wide, tensing his body.
I laugh; he’s so dang cute, “Yes they will be hot.” I say.
Henri looks over my shoulder while I pay; his little voice is so loud under the open air space. “MoMo! Fanky!” I feel like I just lost an eardrum.
Molly and Frankie come up and nuzzle Henri who squeals with delight. I take the tray of fries and ask for a dish of ranch dressing; Henri’s favorite. I don’t get three feet from the table before he is staking claim on the slivers of fried potatoes. “My fries.” He says taking one between his chubby digits. “Hot Mamma; blow.”
I blow on the fry; he smiles and aggressively puts it in his mouth. Frankie and Molly locate a table close to the small jazz band playing. I set Henri in a seat and take a fry for myself as the girls decide what to eat.
Frankie puts the tiny menu down, “So…spill Babe.” She says attracting Molly’s attention as well.
“Ooh yeah, who was he Babe? Frankie is convinced he’s playing for the proper team.” Molly says smiling.
I playfully avoid the inquisition by shifting in my chair to engage Molly, “Your hair looks so great! Did I tell you that last night?”
They both roll their eyes, before Frankie humorously demands, “Confess!” They are both staring and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“Okay, okay. No, he’s not gay.” I relinquish, taking another one of Henri’s fries.
“See, I told you!” Frankie howls sitting back in her chair.
“I’m sorry ya’ll, I just…wanted to avoid this conversation last night. By the way Molly, it was a great party.”
“Thanks, I sold every piece.”
“That’s wonderful, congratulations!” I exclaim.
“Thanks.” She says adjusting her glasses.
“Uh uh, Babe. I want to know more about Cian.” Frankie says his name like it’s a sexual mantra.
I laugh, but every time I hear his name my body resonates with desire. I can’t hide anything from my girls and this is no different.
“Estella works late, so he and I are always hanging out. I asked him to your show, Molly, because he is a huge fan of your work.” I explain. Molly makes a “who knew?” face and picks up the menu.
“Aunt Estella? I’ve known you your whole life. Who is she?” Frankie asks.
I’ve got this. Anything regarding my father is a conversation killer amongst my friends, “She is my Daddy’s illegitimate sister.” I say sadly.
“Wow, really?” Molly exclaims.
“But, Babe. Isn’t it strange she shows up after Griffin…?” Frankie trails off.
“I thought that too, but after I talked to my Mamma, I felt better about her.”
“So, your Mamma knew?”
“Yeah. You know how families keep things like that under lock and key. Beauregard’s are no different.” I say nonchalantly
“Okay so that is Estella. Cian…he’s got this air about him, a strange aura. Do you pick that up Babe?” Frankie asks.
Molly chimes in, “Yeah and he didn’t take his eyes off you all night, like he was your bodyguard or something…” she trails off but I can see her gearing up.
I hold my hand up to stop her rendition of the famous song from the famous movie, “Don’t.”
“Aw, come on,” Molly is playfully disappointed; “I do a great Dolly Parton.” She folds her arms across her chest.
Frankie takes a fry from Henri who smiles at her as she does so, she then corroborates Molly’s observations, “Yeah, when you and Braxton were talking it looked as though he was going to have a coronary.” She finishes chewing.
“What do you mean by strange aura?”
“Well, I saw how he was watching you and I grabbed his arm. It was cold, like unnaturally cold.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.” I lie. “You grabbed him?” I ask humorously.
“Sure did, he didn’t seem to like it either.” She stops to gaze at Henri, “We are just concerned for you is all Babe. We love you.”
“I love ya’ll, please don’t be worried about me.” I say and I hope that this conversation is over.
It is, Frankie reaches over and snatches the menu from Molly’s hands. Henri sees this; Molly sees Henri her eyes widen and opens her mouth as if what Frankie did was a surprise. They both laugh.
________________________________________________________________________________
Frankie is still watching me closely. After eventually explaining EVERYTHING to her and Molly about Cian, Estella and my Daddy my girls were more concerned for me than when they met Cian. Eventually after many glasses of wine, they came to understand and all was copasetic.
“My Daddy hinted at going back to Emerald Isle. I think Cian may be there, of course I will know for sure once I cross that state line.” I say rolling my eyes.
Frankie is smiling, “I’m glad you are going through with the test. I still don’t know why you didn’t tell us in the beginning?”
“Frank, you know I couldn’t, mostly because I really didn’t grasp it all myself. Where I really come from? Who I may be and what I might be capable of? If I had said something and you or Molly were hurt or killed because of me, I don’t know...” I begin to tear up.
“Oh, my Lord, Babe I didn’t mean to upset you!” She says chastising herself.
I take a deep breath to calm myself, “No, it’s not you. I’m sorry, I guess that proves you all right; I do need to…” I trail off, shake that and resume with a smile, “But as far as seeing him again I too think it will strengthen us.” I say shrugging.
“It’s all so crazy.” Frankie is shaking her head and smiling.
“Crazy is the understatement of the century.” We both laugh.
Frankie sets the alarm as we walk out of the salon. On the way to our reserved parking Frankie says, “So when do you leave?”
I unlock my car and throw my bag in the passenger side, “You know, he didn’t mention that.”
“Well, call me later when you find out.”
“Will do, be careful!” I holler while getting into my car.
Babet's Epiphany
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany!! http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
It’s August, and August in New Orleans is hotter than the bluest blazes of hell. It’s been six months. Six months since I last saw…a lot can happen in six months. The tattoo gun vibrates my hand as I work but my thoughts are on all that has transpired. Scarlet is back at school and thriving; utilizing her minimal gifts. Henri is talking a mile a minute; colors, shapes, letters and numbers. My little tape recorder. Mamma is all consumed with the children; which has been a bit of a blessing for me. Searching for a new place is never easy, though my parents are over the moon that we are living at the house.
Luckily I was able to talk Frankie into letting me buy into her Pardido location and set up my tattoo business. Certification was less than difficult and given my reputation in the city I was able to bypass the apprentice process. With a portion of the insurance money from the fire I was to not only able buy all my equipment but renovate a nook for myself and my clients inside the salon.
The most interesting event during this time is my Daddy’s debut back into society, human and vampire alike. Questions of course were brought up, but Daddy fabricated some non-sense about witness protection and plastic surgery for the humans. He needed no excuses for the vampires, his reputation preceding him. And how he got the city to relinquish the house is beyond me. The house is busy, but not with tourists; my Daddy’s vampire coven are in and out at all hours of the night. I know this because I’ve become a borderline insomniac since Cian left.
When I don’t sleep, which is often, I paint. Albeit manically and occasionally while crying incessantly. My old room is littered with canvases, paint tubes and brushes. Mamma made me cover the entire floor with a tarp so not to destroy the original hardwoods and Daddy takes each piece as soon as it’s complete. I take a picture of it and upload it to my tablet for future reference, but because of the fire and ALL my work going up in flames Daddy locks the finished pieces away in his fire proof vault room. So far I’ve painted and Daddy has locked away, eighteen portraits; most of the paintings are depictions of what happened that March night. I also painted Mamma and Daddy as they are now, along with portraits of Scarlet and Henri. The house grounds are the perfect backdrop.
On a personal level I had a friend permanently ink Mora’s final death on my left bicep. My tattoo shows human warrior goddess Collette, her spiked heels implanted in Mora’s clavicles, staking her from overhead. I embellished it a little. I get lots of comments on it, “Where did you come up with the idea?” They ask. Of course I cannot divulge such information, stating it came to me in a dream.
Another visible change is my hair, which shocks even me when I look in the mirror. I let Frankie talk me into an A-line razor bob. It looks great and I feel like a new person but I wonder what he will think when…if he sees me. I get a nauseous pinging in my stomach at this thought.
The good always comes with a little bad and the negativity of our new lives is small, but it’s relevant. Griffin’s mother attempted to blackmail my Daddy; claiming she knew he had something to do with her son’s death. She was so adamant that when she arrived at the house to discuss the situation she disowned Henri completely. If I was honest with myself I would say, Good Riddance. I know she didn’t like me when I married her only son; but she was always very harsh with regard to Scarlet. She showed her true colors and left with a check. The money wasn’t to keep her quiet; my Daddy didn’t care if she said anything to anyone, it was to keep her out of our lives.
My thought are interrupted by Calista LeBeau; my last client of the day,“Ooh!”
She and I attended high school together and she has always been one of the few girls I can consider a friend. She is a sprite of a girl. Petite and thin, she has shoulder length reddish brown hair almost the color of Dr. Pepper. I’m tattooing an intricate Celtic knot on her right forearm. She recently married into an Irish family and wanted to reflect her husband’s heritage.
“Sorry Calista,” I say hoping my hand didn’t get too heavy. I change the subject, “What is your new last name Mrs.?”
“Please, Babe. Tattoos hurt and I am officially Calista Keever.” She holds her head up pompously, then laughs as I continue.
“Keever; that’s a good, strong, Irish name. Congratulations; again.” I say smiling, keeping my eyes on her arm.
“Thanks!” I hear the elation of being a new bride in her voice.
Frankie rounds the corner of my little nook, “Hey; your Dad is on line four.”
“Thanks Frank.” I say as she turns to go back to her client. I look over to Calista who is admiring her new ink, “You mind if we take a break Calista?”
“Take your time Babe.”
“Thanks.” I remove my gloves, discarding them in the trashcan by my door.
I don’t keep a phone in my part of the salon, it’s too distracting ringing off the hook all day. But that’s success isn’t it and Frankie is successful.
Very successful, the shop is still loaded. Every chair is full even though the sun has gone down and the hair is flying. I get hit with the smell of ammonia and sulfur; color, perm, and cuts; highlight and lowlight, waxing, tanning, nails…and tattoo. It’s a lucrative business for sure.
Frankie hands me a cordless phone from her station, “Your Daddy calling here is going to take some getting used to.” She laughs, I reciprocate.
“Daddy?”
“Hey baby girl, how’s your day today?” My Daddy is so sweet but I can hear something behind it.
“Good, just finishing up for the day.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s in your chair at the moment?” My Daddy is so fascinated by my newest endeavor.
“Calista LeBeau, now Keever; she said to tell you welcome home.” I sound just as sweet waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“She’s such a nice girl, good family the LeBeau’s. Tell her Congratulations from your Mother and me.” He says and then he is silent.
“Daddy, you there?”
“Yeah…sorry I was taking paperwork from Alistair. Babe, I have an actor friend from Sweden who will be in Wilmington filming a movie…” he trails off again.
“Wilmington, North Carolina? Daddy?” I hear background voices and rustling papers.
“Yes, would you be interested in taking an au pair job for the next couple of months? I know its short notice but you can paint while you’re there and I know for a fact he is interested in having you paint his son’s portraits.”
I’m silent at first swirling everything together. I would have a lot of affairs to get in order before I go, if I go. I would need to discuss it with Frankie…and Scarlet.
My Daddy doesn’t let me answer, “I’ve discussed it with Frankie and she agrees you need some time away.”
My brow furrows as I begin to feel as if I’m being plotted against, “You talked to Frankie?” My tone is harsh.
“Babe, before you get upset, we all feel that, you threw yourself into work after everything in March. You received the insurance money and immediately talked to Frankie. You got certified and boom started. You don’t sleep, we all know you don’t. You need a vacation, honey.” His tone is pleading.
I can’t say no to my Daddy, “Of course Daddy, a working vacation.” I laugh.
“Think of it as a way to expand your new portfolio, besides you may get some time to go back to Emerald Isle, since those paintings are gone.”
I gasp and I know this is a hint if not a coax from my Daddy, “Thanks Daddy.” I say like I did when I was a little girl.
“I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you.”
I hang up the phone and turn to see the entire salon staring at me. I feel flush as they all resume their previous tasks except Frankie who is waiting for me to tell her I will need some time off. She winks at me, I roll my eyes and a smile comes from the side of my mouth.
“Can we talk later?” I ask.
“Of course, darlin’!” She squeals before applying another foil.
The salon is finally closed and everyone but Frankie and I have gone. I’m cleaning my nook while she pours over the day’s numbers. I peek my head in her door after I’m done to discuss my “vacation” time.
“Hey.” I say sitting in one of two ultra modern chairs, my tone is wary.
“Hey.” Frankie says smiling.
“Okay, so what did my Daddy say to you?” I ask laying it all out on the table.
“He said he had an artistic opportunity for you and I agreed that you could use some time off. If not from the shop; the city.”
I nod my head silently.
“He said he could get a replacement, but I told him you wouldn’t like that. He understood.” Frankie is such a good friend and knows me so well. “I told him not to worry and I’m telling you the same. Babe, you need closure from it all. Griffin’s death, your studio and your Dad coming back. I swear girl, you are strong as steel. I would be in a straight jacket if it were me.”
Frankie exaggerates; she is one of the strongest women I know. Starting her business at such a young age and being a successful entrepreneur takes serious guts and Frankie has them for sure.
“Two months though?”
“Yes, but how long have you been trying to get back to North Carolina? Thirteen years?” Frankie eyes me speculatively.
“That’s true.”
“And Cian?”
Again the sound of his name brings butterflies to my stomach and my heart in my throat. I will never forget the conversation with Frankie and Molly about my Scottish friend.
_________________________________________________________________________________
My cell vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans as I walk through the grocery store and I know by the ringtone it’s Frankie. Queen’s of the Stone Age “Little Sister” plays until I press the talk button.
“Hey girly!” I say with exuberance because I know exactly where this is headed.
“Hey yourself, Babe.” Her tone is humorously inquisitive.
“What are you up to today?” I ask
“Nice try Babe, what is up with that gorgeous man you were with at Molly’s party?”
I laugh, “He’s just a friend.” A friend who has me irrevocably vexed. A wave of sexual tension rises when I remember our kiss.
“Mmhhmm.” She says and I hear the laughter coming. “A friend of Aunt Estella?”
“Yes.” I say pushing the cart mindlessly. Henri is pointing and trying to grab everything.
“Where are you right now?”
“The grocery store, why?”
“Come have lunch with me and Molly. Its 10:30 now, meet us at Gazebo Café at 12:00.”
“Okay, I have Henri though.”
“Aw, petite Henri!” She shrills.
“Ha, he’s not that small anymore. Listen, I will finish up here and head back to Estella’s to unload. I’ll see you girls in an hour and half.”
“Yay! Okay, Luvies!” Frankie sings.
“Luvies.” I mirror.
I get what we need for the week, pay and load my car. After securing Henri in his seat I drive back to Audubon. Henri at two is already a big helper, carrying the bread for me. I pile the bags on the granite counter and begin to unload the groceries. All the while I am checking the time, it’s nearly 11:15 and I definitely can’t go to lunch with the girls in jeans and a t-shirt. I scoop up Henri and head upstairs, he points at the cannon style bed and I oblige him after removing his shoes. He jumps up and down on it while I slip on a pair of crimson and cream damask shorts, boat neck long-sleeved shirt and flip flops. I gather my hair into a ponytail and grab Henri off the bed to make my way down the stairs.
Back in the car the clock reads 11:36. If I can make it to Gazebo before the girls, I can settle Henri with some French Fries and ranch dressing. Parking isn’t the easiest feat near the Square, but I get lucky. I hold Henri’s hand as we walk through the vendor tables, bending to him when he points to something. I explain what it is and he repeats. We luckily make it to the café before Molly and Frankie; I immediately order Henri’s fries.
“Fries!” He says, “My fries.”
“Yes, your fries. They have to cook.” I explain.
“Ooh Hot.” He says eyes wide, tensing his body.
I laugh; he’s so dang cute, “Yes they will be hot.” I say.
Henri looks over my shoulder while I pay; his little voice is so loud under the open air space. “MoMo! Fanky!” I feel like I just lost an eardrum.
Molly and Frankie come up and nuzzle Henri who squeals with delight. I take the tray of fries and ask for a dish of ranch dressing; Henri’s favorite. I don’t get three feet from the table before he is staking claim on the slivers of fried potatoes. “My fries.” He says taking one between his chubby digits. “Hot Mamma; blow.”
I blow on the fry; he smiles and aggressively puts it in his mouth. Frankie and Molly locate a table close to the small jazz band playing. I set Henri in a seat and take a fry for myself as the girls decide what to eat.
Frankie puts the tiny menu down, “So…spill Babe.” She says attracting Molly’s attention as well.
“Ooh yeah, who was he Babe? Frankie is convinced he’s playing for the proper team.” Molly says smiling.
I playfully avoid the inquisition by shifting in my chair to engage Molly, “Your hair looks so great! Did I tell you that last night?”
They both roll their eyes, before Frankie humorously demands, “Confess!” They are both staring and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“Okay, okay. No, he’s not gay.” I relinquish, taking another one of Henri’s fries.
“See, I told you!” Frankie howls sitting back in her chair.
“I’m sorry ya’ll, I just…wanted to avoid this conversation last night. By the way Molly, it was a great party.”
“Thanks, I sold every piece.”
“That’s wonderful, congratulations!” I exclaim.
“Thanks.” She says adjusting her glasses.
“Uh uh, Babe. I want to know more about Cian.” Frankie says his name like it’s a sexual mantra.
I laugh, but every time I hear his name my body resonates with desire. I can’t hide anything from my girls and this is no different.
“Estella works late, so he and I are always hanging out. I asked him to your show, Molly, because he is a huge fan of your work.” I explain. Molly makes a “who knew?” face and picks up the menu.
“Aunt Estella? I’ve known you your whole life. Who is she?” Frankie asks.
I’ve got this. Anything regarding my father is a conversation killer amongst my friends, “She is my Daddy’s illegitimate sister.” I say sadly.
“Wow, really?” Molly exclaims.
“But, Babe. Isn’t it strange she shows up after Griffin…?” Frankie trails off.
“I thought that too, but after I talked to my Mamma, I felt better about her.”
“So, your Mamma knew?”
“Yeah. You know how families keep things like that under lock and key. Beauregard’s are no different.” I say nonchalantly
“Okay so that is Estella. Cian…he’s got this air about him, a strange aura. Do you pick that up Babe?” Frankie asks.
Molly chimes in, “Yeah and he didn’t take his eyes off you all night, like he was your bodyguard or something…” she trails off but I can see her gearing up.
I hold my hand up to stop her rendition of the famous song from the famous movie, “Don’t.”
“Aw, come on,” Molly is playfully disappointed; “I do a great Dolly Parton.” She folds her arms across her chest.
Frankie takes a fry from Henri who smiles at her as she does so, she then corroborates Molly’s observations, “Yeah, when you and Braxton were talking it looked as though he was going to have a coronary.” She finishes chewing.
“What do you mean by strange aura?”
“Well, I saw how he was watching you and I grabbed his arm. It was cold, like unnaturally cold.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that is.” I lie. “You grabbed him?” I ask humorously.
“Sure did, he didn’t seem to like it either.” She stops to gaze at Henri, “We are just concerned for you is all Babe. We love you.”
“I love ya’ll, please don’t be worried about me.” I say and I hope that this conversation is over.
It is, Frankie reaches over and snatches the menu from Molly’s hands. Henri sees this; Molly sees Henri her eyes widen and opens her mouth as if what Frankie did was a surprise. They both laugh.
________________________________________________________________________________
Frankie is still watching me closely. After eventually explaining EVERYTHING to her and Molly about Cian, Estella and my Daddy my girls were more concerned for me than when they met Cian. Eventually after many glasses of wine, they came to understand and all was copasetic.
“My Daddy hinted at going back to Emerald Isle. I think Cian may be there, of course I will know for sure once I cross that state line.” I say rolling my eyes.
Frankie is smiling, “I’m glad you are going through with the test. I still don’t know why you didn’t tell us in the beginning?”
“Frank, you know I couldn’t, mostly because I really didn’t grasp it all myself. Where I really come from? Who I may be and what I might be capable of? If I had said something and you or Molly were hurt or killed because of me, I don’t know...” I begin to tear up.
“Oh, my Lord, Babe I didn’t mean to upset you!” She says chastising herself.
I take a deep breath to calm myself, “No, it’s not you. I’m sorry, I guess that proves you all right; I do need to…” I trail off, shake that and resume with a smile, “But as far as seeing him again I too think it will strengthen us.” I say shrugging.
“It’s all so crazy.” Frankie is shaking her head and smiling.
“Crazy is the understatement of the century.” We both laugh.
Frankie sets the alarm as we walk out of the salon. On the way to our reserved parking Frankie says, “So when do you leave?”
I unlock my car and throw my bag in the passenger side, “You know, he didn’t mention that.”
“Well, call me later when you find out.”
“Will do, be careful!” I holler while getting into my car.
Babet's Epiphany
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany!! http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
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.
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/...
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/...
Augusta Fern's Blog
- Augusta Fern's profile
- 41 followers
Augusta Fern isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
their feed.
