Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "introductions"

I thought about Estella’s comments thoroughly and with Babet’s husband missing for so long how would she have found the time to check on something like her fuse box or wiring? A single mother of two hardly has the time to brush her hair or teeth in the morning, and that stands the test of time. I recalled as a boy my sister and me being a handful for our mother. Estella kept her focus as her beautiful green eyes go cloudy, she attempts to read energy around the building again. I watched her enviously, wishing I had the ability to read time, when I turned from her to the alley between the two buildings, “How far back can you go?”

The green returned to her eyes and she stared into me, “Depends,” her words hard. “If I go back too far, I might not come back, my mind that is; I could get “stuck” in a read.” She makes finger quotes, before sighing. “At least that is what our Queen tells me.”

She turns her gaze downward at her hands that had gathered into loose fists. Her demeanor lightened and she smiled sarcastically at me as her hands released. I couldn’t help wanting to encourage Estella to try to extend her range and lately she had been tip toeing on the less obedient side of our Queen.
“Try.” One word from my lips and a sly smile from Estella, we were in business.

Estella gathered as much pertinent information as she felt relevant to report back to the Queen while she conversed with Madliene it was apparent that she was asked how she was able to obtain so much and trepidation begins to rise as I thought about how far back Estella may have gone. Estella explained that we were able to get very close due to the emergency services activity. Though I don’t trust the Queen believed her but was grateful none the less for the knowledge. I asked to speak to the Queen; Estella hands me her cell phone.

“Majesty,I hope you are well?” I ask. “I am glad to hear it; I have a request if I may?” She was also receptive to this. “I wonder if we should reveal ourselves to Bab…the wife.” There was silence from the Queen’s side. “I realize it’s a very dangerous situation, but I feel if we don’t intervene she will succumb to unknown intentions. Her children will die.” My tone is harsh, I realize this. Still; stifling silence from her end.

“Majesty, I can understand your haste, but it is a creature of our blood that stalks her and from what Estella has gathered her mother-in-law, hasn’t been seen…” I stop, wait. “Other than her own mother, who is on a cruise for an extended period of time, Benoit’s mother was her only other family.” I said more cautiously as I looked intently at Estella. “Majesty?”

The silence is agonizing and time altering…….Finally.

Her tone extremely serious, “Cian, I can appreciate your hasty solution….” she trailed off into silence once more. And when she spoke again, third time was a charm for me being taken by surprise, two in one day no less.

Madliene instructs us to introduce ourselves to Babet, including telling her of Estella’s connection. Convince her to accompany us to a townhouse furnished by The Queen. It would be a challenge to approach Babet and her children. What do you say to a human you, as vampire, want to help?

It was imperative we interfere, for all sakes involved. I let Estella take the lead, stashing her blades out of mortal sight and followed at a safe unseen distance, for many reasons. Number one, I am unstable in direct presence with Babet, I know this. Her scent is toweringly intoxicating. Getting to close could be too consuming, for all parties involved, even the monster inside.

Number two, I am intimidating. It’s not a conceited statement, it’s who I am. Of no fault of my own I exude certain dominance. Most vampires can, at least against humans; other vampires are bit more difficult. In this situation I don’t want to be the cause of additional fear.

Number three, I am a man. Women are more susceptible to accept assistance from other women. If I were to tell Babet that I want to take her away from all this and help her get back on her feet, not to mention, I am her long lost relative, a vampire and believe that my kind are the reason for all her downtrodden circumstances how do you think she would perceive it.

I am pulled from my inner turmoil and listen to the report between the two women. Babet is visibly and emotionally hesitant, apprehensive and lastly, frightened to accept any kind of assistance from a perfect stranger, but Estella is very persuasive and the sound of her full name in Babet’s ears was an apparent alleviation. Her brilliant green eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped before twisting up into a beautiful smile. She then threw her free arm around Estella’s neck and pulled her great (by how many?) aunt into a tight embrace. Once Babet released Estella I slowly made my way over to them. Inside, I am eager. A malicious disgustingly eager teenager, but it doesn’t show. Outside I am calm and the picture of endurance. Nothing could bring me down. It’s a gift.

I lock eyes with Estella and offer a sideways smile then turn my gaze to Babet, who, unlike most humans, is polite but not easily impressed. Though, I sensed something strange upon shaking her hand, the tension resonating from her body, while talking to Estella, had now disappeared. Even stranger, in me, the careless urge to rip her and fuck her, subsided momentarily in anticipation of her touch. I wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of safety, free from all danger or the threat of harm.

Yes, she must be unharmed…..unhurt, uninjured, unscathed; completely safe and sound, with me. I could afford her the proper protection. She would want for nothing, her children would benefit from a lifetime of security and preservation… I am pulled from my inner self by Estella’s introductions.

“Babet, this is Cian. He too is an employee of the Queen, but he is also a dear friend.” Estella, the ever gracious host, her southern belle showing.
“Hello.” Babet’s voice sullen from tears is sultry and prurient, I am transfixed once again.

I bow my head to her and say her name out loud, “Babet.” I grasp her hand delicately, taking in her silky flesh, concealed below the alabaster sheath a map of deep blue livelihood. I release her hand but the monster is conniving, staying at bay until internally I want to grasp it back and pull her to me.

Spin her around so that she is back to my front restraining her with one arm while with the other savor the warmth of her entire body and its supple softness before tilting her head giving me passage to her throat, trailing my tongue down her neck, over her clavicle, before I sink my teeth into her delicious bosom allowing her life force to fill my gullet, tantalizing crimson flow exciting each and every taste bud and salivary gland….STOP!!!

“…we are going to take you somewhere safe and get you all things you need. You are in our care now.” Estella explains to Babet while I am far gone.

Babet nods her head sullenly wary, then looks behind and around her; stopping only to adjust her hold on her son who by now had fallen back to sleep in his mother’s warm soft arms. Her face and demeanor are of slight fret, before finally laying her eyes on her daughter who had wandered off during Babet and Estella’s dialog.

She tilts her head for the girl to come. The sulky teenager is disheveled and dressed in a pair of matching owl print pajamas. Her hair is short, red and messy from the late hour. She jumps down from a parked ambulance, removing the flame retardant blanket from around her and tossing it behind her into the vehicle. She walks slowly, glancing back at her former home for a moment and upon turning back toward her mother she catches my stare.

We reached the dark dankness that is Penelope’s dwellings, deep in the Southern Louisiana bayou. Keane clearly intrigued by his new surrounding, “All the time I spent on this Earth and I have never experienced anyplace so suspenseful, I feel like a thousand eyes are on me.”

He turned to gain our reaction, he was quickly silenced by Estella’s words, “There are, be aware, we are never alone here.” She passed by him, exiting the tiny vessel gaining access to Penelope’s pier. We walk up the twisted staircase, constructed from worn boards, branches and vine, the hand rail resembling bones tied together with tendons and muscle.
The air was thick with humidity and Keane complained that the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt as if he was being pulled from the boney staircase; but something caught his senses and he began to take quick breaths as if tracking a scent. I turned the rusted door knob; Estella and I entering Penelope’s home without invitation, Keane was forced to reside on the other side of the threshold until she noticed our presence.

“Cian. Estella.” She said keeping her gaze on the tiny animal bones in front of her, “Please come in Keane, it’s been a very long time.” My head whipped back to glance at him step into Penelope’s door a smile crossing his lips. I looked back at her and then to Estella, who shrugged as if she didn’t care. Keane closed the door behind him and stood in front of her table of bones, waiting to meet her eyes. She finally lifted her head and they stared into each other for what seemed like forever.

“I knew I would find you again someday.” Keane said, continuing to gaze at her longingly, enraptured by her.
“And so you have”, Penelope’s eyes softened from her hazel brown to ice blue and her hair began to loosen and grow, turning from blue black to sandy blonde. She stood up from behind her table and her body began to slim and her clothes changed from the long sundress she wore as we entered to tattered rags. She stepped out from behind the table and the flip flops she was wearing began to disappear, to reveal bare white feet. Standing before us was no longer Penelope but the priestess who assisted us and turned us from human to vampire in Scotland centuries ago.

“What the fuck just happened?!?!”
Estella jumped from her dresser perch, landing with a thud. The boots she traded the heels for met the floor with persistence; she attempted to move from her landing and was rebuffed by the priestess’ simple yet powerful stare, resulting in Estella’s stasis.

“Under my roof, young one…..you will have respect for me and mine, quiet yourself or leave.”

Keane stood with his hands in his pants pockets during the priestess’ transformation and once it was complete, he thrust forward, wrapped his arms around the young woman, pulling her away to gaze at her face, he placed his hands around it, pulling it toward his and kissed her passionately. He pulled her away from him once more and said, “Your scent, I could detect it as soon as we got here, I just couldn’t believe it, I knew it had to be false. You’re really here.”

They embrace again and I look to Estella out of respect for the reunited, “lovers”. The priestess released Keane from her grasp, turned to me, still in her original form as the Scottish woman and asked both me and Keane to have a seat and hope to somewhat explain how she came to be here. We sat on two antique soda crates; Keane refused to divert his gaze elsewhere nearly missing the small wooden box as he sat.

I realized that her compassion for us that night meant more to him than the rest of us. Estella, once released from her time as a statue, re-perched herself on the old dresser, more wary of her actions as she re-immerses in her cell phone, but not before shooting invisible daggers at the priestess.

“Cian, I want to start by apologizing for not revealing myself to you years ago. For me it’s been a lifetime of failed trust and how was I to be sure you could be trusted, even after our long relationship.” I didn’t respond out of respect and she continued.

“Do you forgive me?” She said as she looked to me sympathetically. I simply nodded at her and I was glad she was familiar with my ways. She explained that she has existed for millennia, transferring her spirit into those who possess the ability to communicate with other realms. When we happened upon her in Dalry, she had been in her true form, it only became dangerous for her once the Christians had made their mark, deeming anyone connected to the spirit world to be feared and destroyed. She was called a witch, driven into the Cleeves Cove Cave system not far from her home and finally in 1576 she was burned at the stake as a woman named Bessie Dunlop.

She told us, as Bessie, she had received information through the dimensions in reference to lost items belonging to a Thomas Reid, former barony officer in Dalry. Being a compassionate person she reported the sighting, but the gesture was most unsettling for the authority since Mr. Reid died in the Battle of Pinkie 30 years prior.

Claiming to the law, she first encountered him while on a walk near Monkcastle. She admitted to having a familiar who taught her her trade of craft. Creating ointments and medicines out of herbs to heal the wounds or sicknesses of livestock and people; many knew of her and went to her for advice or a cure for a sick child, treating everyone equally, poor and rich alike.

Unfortunately she was eventually seen as a witch, a threat to be feared. There is some debate as to where she was burned at the stake; she can’t remember where her exact location of death is, but she theorized that it may have been Castle Hill in Edinburgh. But felt that a death at Corsehillmuir outside of Kilwinning would have been less embarrassing. I was extremely interested in this account and being as “Penelope” and I always spoke to one another in broken sentences, the vast and drawn out conversation was a welcome yet foreign one.

Keane and I sat listening as she recounted the many times she spirit jumped and I began to wonder what became of the consciousness of the human once “Penelope” or the priestess inhabited it. I let the thought escape as she spoke about arriving in Haiti, finding and inhabiting a little girl named Penelope D’Anjou. She explained that she resided in the girl for only a few years before being cast out of Penelope’s body by the elders of the girl’s village.

She recalled haunting various places around Haiti but no other vessel proved itself to be as worthy as the little Penelope. By the time the priestess’ spirit decided come hell or high water she would inhabit that little girl again; conjuring a stasis spell to remain inside until death, the proper way for the priestess to exit a vessel; the girl had grown into a woman and was pregnant with a baby girl herself. Inhabiting a vessel that is already occupied is highly forbidden and could cause the deaths of all three beings. She followed Penelope from Haiti to Louisiana and immediately after the child was born, the priestess found her way back inside the young woman.

“And I’ve been with her ever since, she’s a delightful person and a great asset to me and the community. She is much older now, but I don’t let that show when we take clients. She would prefer to look as she should at her age, but I told her that is not advisable, she would look, well... dead, if I did so.

I say to her, “”Penelope, you will die one of these days and I will be expelled from you, but until then, we both should look presentable.” And she relents to me, knowing what I say to be true.” She smiled and gazed at Keane every so often as she spoke.

“Forgive the interruption, but you can speak to the actual Penelope?” I asked astonished.

“Of course, I can speak with all my vessels. I have at least that respect, others would block the vessels consciousness out, but I appreciate the relationship and the shared space. I like to think that is how I have survived this long. Which is the reason I was expelled from Penelope as a child; I should have never inhabited her that young”, she stopped and smiled to no one and nothing, “I’m sorry, Penelope was just agreeing with me and as I have explained to her, she was the most powerful vessel, even at that age, I had ever encountered, which she should take as an immense compliment.” She stopped again and nodded to herself.

“When Penelope was a child and my spirit entered her body, her power was vast but dangerously unstable. She was able to block me long enough to tell her mother someone else was in her body. Her mother reported this to the elders and a ceremony took place to expel me. My spirit hung over head but I didn’t cast a shadow upon them like they expected. I knew what I did was not how it is done, but I couldn’t let that little girl’s power escape me. I was relentless following her all the way to America, but I was obsessed and the excitement of the new world intrigued me.”

Keane spoke up before she had a chance to continue, “And her child?”

“Lives in New Orleans and probably can’t wait for us to die”, and she began to laugh hysterically, “I’m sorry, just an ongoing joke between us. Besides, we would hate for Cian to change his lifestyle again.” And she smiled in my direction.

Keane was obviously confused by our exchange, “What does that mean?” he said humorously. Before I had a chance to defend my honor to my brother, the priestess explained. Keane immediately turned back to me and said, “So you didn’t feed earlier tonight?”

“I did.” I replied and I can see he wants more detail.

The priestess snapped her head in my direction, “You fed off of a human?”

“No.” I am stern.

“What?! What the hell is she talking about?” Keane is confused and slowly growing irritated at the thought of it.

“You didn’t tell him?” The priestess is pulling my veil and Keane is slowly figuring it out.

“Not relevant to the situation at hand.”

“Still.”

“I know.” And there we were, back to our familiar broken sentence conversations.
“Okay…uh…what?” Keane said astonished and glanced back and forth from me to the priestess.

I ignored his comment and looked back at the priestess, “Since you’re laying it all out on the table, what is your real name?” it was a bold inquiry I admit, but I had to know and I thought Keane should know.

But my brother impressed me unexpectedly and said, “Myra Elnora”, beaming at her.
As she mirrored his sentimental gaze and the name fell from his lips, she bowed her head to us all. “At the time of our first meeting and the ritual, I was going by Gwendolyn DeGarva, in hopes of keeping the authorities of the day at bay.” She stops as if she is listening to Penelope. “Yes, you’re right, I shall.” Myra began telling us of her connection to each of us. For centuries she had watched over us, and as a result of her being the catalyst of who we are, is connected to us individually.

“Cian, I am connected to you mentally, your thought are my thoughts. I can hear everything you think and my dear, on some occasions it hasn’t been the most beautiful of thoughts. I know your predicament with the young woman and Estella’s connection to her and before you ask, I cannot get involved unfortunately,” she pauses, glancing annoyingly at Estella, who is still engrossed in her cell phone, “I also know of your feelings for Estella”, she pauses again hoping to gain the female vamp’s attention, which is exactly what she did. Estella tore herself away from her cell upon the last three words Myra uttered; her fierce green eyes blazing at the priestess. It’s not been the easiest of relationships where Estella and Penelope are concerned. Let’s just say, they don’t trust each other and Myra’s newest revelation isn’t helping matters, not to mention the stasis.

“It’s why we speak to each other the way we do, I already know what you’re thinking or about to think or ever thought of thinking.” She began cackling to herself, before speaking again to her inner self, “yes, three times fast, indeed.” She focused, “Apologies, I like to keep my vessels consciousnesses close as I have already told you, Penelope found that funny Cian.” She smiled at me, “We know, you’re glad she’s amused.”

I was dumbfounded, I said nothing, spoke no words, and uttered not a sound. I was beginning to feel a little put upon at this point, even for someone as old as me, who has seen virtually everything this world has to offer….my thoughts were interrupted, since at this point I know they don’t belong to only me.

http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...

Revelations of Cian

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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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

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Chapter 9

The following morning I have Soren on the beach after breakfast, its supposed to be overly hot later today and personally I’ve been neglecting my own tan. I’m in heaven in a tri-fold chair, my black bikini and my toes in the sand watching Soren play in the shallows of the waves. Autumn, her brother Aaron and their cousins are all working the water. Soren waves to Autumn when she wipes out and yells to her, “It’s okay.”

Around lunch time the surfing cousins come out of the water and I’m introduced to Landon, who is the oldest of the three Adams boys and the cockiest to boot. Winking at me and mentioning something about smoking when he shakes my hand. His brothers Deacon and Tristan look almost identical to each other, not at all like the eldest Adams brother. They seem shyer than him also. Deacon appears embarrassed by his overly confident brother. Tristan, the youngest, is also the tallest of the three. Physically all the boys are similar, extremely tan with sandy blonde hair and defined abs; surfers. Autumn and Aaron have identical physiques to the Adams boys, tan, defined frames but while Aaron’s hair is sandy blonde like the other boys, Autumn’s in chestnut brown. Because their skin is so dark, their blue eyes are more prominently vibrant. Again, Autumn is different, her eyes are light hazel.

“You’re coming to the party right, Babet?” She says wringing the water out of her long hair.

“I didn’t know you were having a party.”

“End of season, Labor Day party; you have to come!” Her tone is excitable.

“Oh, Labor day; I leave that night for Emerald Isle.” I shrug and in the distance I see one of the managing mothers heading our way.

“Hey!” The tall brunette, Blake is trudging through the sand, she holds her hand out to me, “I’m Blake Adams. You’re Babet, right?”

“Yes ma’am. Babet Beauregard.” I take her offered hand.

“Ya’ll got our party invitation?”

“I’m not sure, I collected the mail, but it’s not mine so…” Blake cuts me off.

“Oh, yes, of course. Well, tell Lars you are all invited, even Soren.” She says in a childlike voice; Soren smiles. I see a figure emerge from the deck and when I look back, Justus has donned his beach attire, nearly collapsing Autumn when she sees him. He is all smiles, shirtless and glowing. His blue and white hibiscus print board shorts hang perfectly on his hips and I can’t stop staring; hell none of the females in this tiny group can. I hear deep sighs and scoffs from the Adams boys and Aaron; Tristan declaring, he was “out of here”. Justus gets within ear shot and Blake says, “Babet I don’t see a ring on that finger, come to the party; there will be lots of attractive, single, wealthy men there.” She locks eyes with Justus who doesn’t seem happy about her suggestion.

“Okay, thank you. Nice meeting you Blake.” I call after they turn to leave.

“See you at the party!” She calls back with her hand over her head.

Justus shakes his head and sets up a chair beside mine. He makes himself comfortable before turning to me, “The invitation is in the kitchen, if you want to go.”

“I told her I was leaving that night.” I say looking out over the water.

“Right.” His tone is disappointed.

Justus and I sit in silence while the blue waves crash over tan sand until I engage him, “Why did you kiss me yesterday?”

He smirks and a little laugh exudes, “I thought; after you pulled out of my grip, that it was the only way to shock you into coming quietly.”

“Just so you are aware, I didn’t oblige you out of shock value, I did it because I didn’t want to hold up traffic.” I turn to face him, aviators to aviators.

“You sure about that?” I see one of his eyebrows shoot up.

“Positive.”

“Sure you didn’t enjoy it a little bit?” He holds his thumb and finger up.

“I won’t lie, it’s been a while since I’ve been kissed and yes, subconsciously women of course, want to be “taken” to a degree, but don’t misconstrue that for anything other than what it was.”

“So you didn’t feel anything when it happened?”

I’m silent, because I so felt something when he grabbed me and kissed me in the middle of Lumina Ave. Him being who he is; I should, like the sorority girl said, feel lucky. But he is not who I truly and irrevocably want. I know he is waiting for a reply, an honest reply. After our day yesterday, everything from me is translated in complete honesty, he knows this.

“Okay, you win. Yes I felt something Justus, but it can’t go anywhere. You’ve seen why. It’s him I love. It’s him I want,” Under my breath I say, “It’s him I need.”

He takes a deep breath, “Well, he’s not here.” He adjusts in his chair.

I keep my mouth shut because internally I’m in stitches, if Cian came out here right now, he would burst into flames. Actually, I don’t know what would happen if Cian saw the sun; it’s not something we discussed while I was under vampire care.

“True.” I say nodding.

“And from what I hear you don’t know where he is either.” His tone is snarky and cocky.

“Wow, Justus! You know so much about me; please enlighten me.” I’m spitting fire, angry.

He begins, “Okay, just for the record our fathers are friends and discuss many things.” He stops.

“Fair enough.” I relent.

“Your father wanted to help you with your situation by sending you here to clear your mind, get closure for all that has happened; which by the way, I don’t know everything, just some things. He said your “boyfriend”, “ He uses air quotes, “had business in Europe and once he returned he was to go somewhere he knew you would find him…I take it, that is why you are so eager to go North to Emerald Isle. Babet, I am being completely honest with you right now…” He stops.

“Appreciate it.” I say.

“He is there. In Emerald Isle, I don’t know specifics, but he is there.”

I get a wonderfully erotic flush roll over me, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because for once, someone; you, had the decency to be honest with me about what this city thinks of me. Even if those girls know what they did was unjust.” He pauses, “Seems kind of childish, what you’re doing.”

“Like you said, you don’t know everything.” I say readjusting in my seat.

“True.” He mirrors me.

“We have an understanding then?” I ask.

“Yes. Under the condition you don’t sneak out and quit on us.” He laughs.

I nod, “Agreed.”

The next morning it’s Soren’s turn to participate in a photo shoot. I take him all around Downtown Wilmington; Cape Fear Museum, Fort Fisher Aquarium, and the Railroad Museum; again. A trip downtown for Soren isn’t complete unless he sees the Battleship, so I oblige him. Low and behold as soon as we get there guess who’s waiting? Standing at the entrance to the Battleship, Justus has his hands clasped in front of him. Soren pulls his tiny hand from mine and rushes over to his big brother, who picks him up and twirls him around.

I saunter over with a smirk across my lips, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I would surprise Soren…and you.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. My face gets hot and I know I’m blushing even though the gesture is so common at home.

He straightens and smiles at me before Soren tugs him from his reverie, “Broder! Broder!”

I follow behind the Gunnar brothers while they explore the vessel. I’ve seen it with Soren and alone, besides the brothers are very cute together. Justus bends to listen to Soren talk about the switches and knobs and lifts the little boy when he can’t reach or see something. I take pictures of the two of them, no flash and minimal sound. Unaware of being watched, Justus is so sweet with his younger brother. My insides begin to hurt when I think of Griffin and Henri at the zoo or the Aquarium in Baton Rouge. I tuck the camera away and I feel a tear leave my eyes.

Justus turns to look at me at this precise moment and his face becomes fearful, “What’s wrong Babe?”

He calls me Babe, but I let it go and smile, “Nothing.” I shake my head and laugh.

Justus walks over while holding Soren’s hand, his brow is furrowed but his eyes are sympathetic. He reaches up to wipe the second tear on the verge of descending. He looks down at Soren who is obviously confused by what is going on.

“Soren, are you ready to go?” Justus asks.

The little boy again looks at both of us before saying, “Yes.”

“We don’t have to leave.” I tell Soren in my “Soren” voice.

“No, I hungy.” Soren boasts.

“Me too.” Justus agrees and smiles at both of us, “Let’s go to The Blockade Runner!”

“No!” Soren shrieks which surprises both of us and a couple of people close by.

I woman carting her own brood around the vessel leans in to me and says, “Two, huh?”

“Yes.” I reply cordially.

“A lot for Mommy and Daddy to handle.” She looks to both Justus and me; she’s smiling like an idiot.

I begin to protest when Justus intervenes, “Yes, he’s a handful…right honey?” He looks at me smiling like an idiot too.

I play along; it’s easier than explaining the actual situation, “That he is.” I wink at Soren who is looking from his brother to me confused. I take Soren’s free hand and lead him out of the Battleship.

We are nearly to my car when Soren yells, “Jester’s!”

“What?” Justus asks.

I explain, “He wants to go to Jester’s for lunch, it’s on Castle St. downtown.”

Justus follows behind in the Jeep to Jester’s, we eat lunch and on the way home Soren falls asleep. My phone rings its default tone and I answer, “Hello?”

It’s Justus, “Hi.”

“Hi?”
“Can we go through the photos you took of me yesterday?”

“Sure, you ready to pick one?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, sure.”

He is silent for a moment before saying, “Can we partake?”

“Is your father working all day?”

“Yes and since I’m in town Henley is off for rest of the day.”

“Why?”

“Because my father wants to take us out to dinner. He wanted to last night, but I beat him to the punch.” I hear a smirk in his voice.

I swear all this eating out, poor Henley is going to be out of a job, “Okay.” My tone is a little put upon.

“Are you okay?” Justus asks.

“Are you going to ask me that until I leave? I’m fine, I’m a grown woman.”

“Yes, yes you are.” He sounds enticed.

“Good bye Justus.” I say hanging up the phone and turning into the driveway.

The Jeep pulls in behind me and we both exit our cars. I roll my eyes at him beneath my sunglasses as I remove Soren from the car seat. His little blonde head flops onto my shoulder as I bring him into the house. Henley is still here and I’m thankful to talk to him. I ask him to wait for me while I lay Soren in his bed. Justus is out of sight, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t far away.

“Henley.” I say entering the kitchen.

“Miss Babe! How has your day been?”

“Oh, fine. Listen Henley; where did you get your information about Justus?”

“I have a niece who works for one of the nanny agencies, she told me.”

“Ah.” I say and it all makes perfect sense, word of mouth can be so detrimental.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t think it’s true.”

Henley laughs, “Oh Miss Babe, he’s an actor. Don’t let him fool you. You ain’t no fool.”

“True, I’m not. I just think Justus has been railroaded, is all. He’s a nice guy for the most part.”

Henley’s eyes turn serious, “What did he do Babe?”

I look down, “He kissed me.”

Henley shakes his head, “Damn, where?”

“On my lips.” My tone is obvious.

“No…I mean, here at the house or…”

“In the middle of the road actually.” Henley looks so confused. I explain, “I was angry with him and jumped out of the car. He tried to grab me, no, he did grab me; but I pulled away from him. He didn’t like that and grabbed me again and kissed me; quite forcefully.”

Henley’s lips purse in a hard line, “That son of a bitch!”

“Henley, its fine. We talked about it.” I pop a blueberry from the bowl of fruit on the counter into my mouth.

“I like you Babe,” He stops for a moment, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I laugh, “Trust me Henley, if anyone is going to get hurt it’s him. He really doesn’t know what he’s trying to get into.”

Henley takes a deep breath, “Okay Miss Babe.” He lightens up, “I hear ya’ll are going out tonight.”

“I suppose so, me and the Gunnar boys.” I laugh because it sounds like a country band. Henley laughs with me.

I bid Henley ado for the night and go upstairs to my room. Again Justus is already in there and has put himself to use breaking up on my tablet. I reach into my bag and toss the pack of papers at him.

“Oh, you’re going to have to roll if you want to use these.” He holds the papers in between his index and middle finger.

“Why, you rolled the blunt just fine.” I ask, hand on hip.

“My hands are too big to handle the thin paper, it tears.”

“Okay.” He finished breaking it up and hands the tablet to me, papers on top.

I pull out a sliver of paper and sprinkle the bright green herb in its cradle. I roll it and lick the glue to seal it. I look up at Justus while I my tongue is attached to the paper, he is staring at my mouth. I smile and complete the apparatus. I hand it to him and turn to crack my bedroom window. The smell of salt water fills the room before the scent of cannabis pushes it out. I have to admit, I enjoy smoking with Justus; he’s a borderline newbie with his little coughs and philosophical conversations. We laugh and joke, we wrestle and punch each other. Besides the urge to fuck him, based on my missing Cian, I see Justus as a brother, a very magnetizing attractive brother.

While we are inebriated I begin asking him questions, because I know he will answer them truthfully. I start out mild, “What is Sweden like?”

His eyes widen and he begins a tirade about the European country, “Beautiful, picturesque and peaceful. We have four distinct seasons; spring is my favorite; when new life blooms forth. Summer is strange, we have eighteen hours of daylight in late June, but late in winter we only have six hours making the holiday season nightlife start earlier. Sweden is such a large country that sixty-five percent of it is covered in forests. Stockholm is in southern Sweden where it seems the sky is always clear and blue.” He looks off thoughtfully, “People are very nice. I don’t have to worry with photographers there, the obsession with celebrity is not as important in Sweden as it is here. I can go to the corner store and engage the cashier without having to hear about my show or questions about my father; just chit chat about the weather or politics.”

“Ooh, politics are a hot button here; you have to be careful who you engage in that kind of conversation.” I say trying to deter him from any more geographical lessons.

“So I’ve noticed. Americans get so angry when they talk politics, why do they take it so personally?” His accent leaks out more when he’s high. It’s funny and cute.

“I guess people figure, I elected that man or woman, any attack on them is a personal attack on me. It’s stupid. Most politicians have their own agenda, they tell you what you want to hear to get you to elect them and go about their own merry way regardless of the promises they’ve made. My Daddy was friends with a couple of politicians that were straight shooters…I don’t remember the name of one, but Fussell was the other.”

“You know, you’re right!” He says smiling.

“So, you live in Stockholm regularly?”

“Yes. I travel too much to buy another place. I thought about L.A., but it’s not home. You know how when you travel, the only thing you can’t wait to get back to is, home?”

I quietly, almost depressingly say, “Yes.”

“Oh, Babe…Babet, I’m sorry…I didn’t…” I cut him off.

“It’s okay, and I suppose you can call me Babe now. You smoked my weed and all.” I laugh and peek up at him through my lashes.

“I like Babe. I was hurt I couldn’t call you that.” He is mirroring me, his brow wrinkled.

“Another one of my defense mechanisms I’m afraid, part of the package.” I smile, I love turning that phrase. It reminds me of my Daddy…and Cian. Don’t think of Cian. I furrow my brow but recover quickly.

Justus smiles then sits up to stretch, he is massive. He towers over me even sitting on his ass. I have to crane my neck to watch his fingertips lace into each other. His muscles contort his biceps and triceps; I trace my eyes down to his rib cage and the sculpting there. He has little to no body fat and the notch at his hip is so delightful. He opens his eyes and catches me watching, he smiles brightly and his teeth are perfection.

“Say something to me in Swedish.” I say playfully.

His eyes turn serious and it’s like they’re burning a hole into mine, “Jag onskar att du var min.”

“And that means?”

“You’ll have to figure that out on your own, Babe.”

I laugh, “Okay.” I sit silently for a minute before I remember my conversation with Henley, “Can I ask you something; serious?”

“Of course.”

“How many girls in my position have you slept with?”

He slightly fidgets before recovering, “Honestly; one. The one that started all the bull shit.”

“How old were you?”

“I was Twenty-six. She was nineteen; before you ask. She cared for my sister Lena.” His mood has changed and I need to remedy it.

“Hey, I’m…” I was about to apologize for bringing it up, but my cell phone chimes Scarlet’s designated tone, owls hooting. “Sorry, it’s my daughter.” I pick up my phone, the screen reads, “What’s up?” I roll my eyes, what’s up indeed, teenagers. I text her that I haven’t been able to get up with Daddy or anyone, where have they been? I simply get back, “It’s a secret.” I give up, they’re fine; but my Daddy and I still need to talk. Justus looks at me inquisitively; he’s learned to not ask if I’m okay. “Its fine, I’ve been trying to get in touch with my father…”

He cuts me off with a subject change, “What did you do before you came up here, besides painting?”

“I was; I am a tattoo artist.” I say pulling my shoulder forward.

“Yes, I was going to comment on your ink, but I didn’t want you to think I was using it as a catalyst for conversation. Men do that, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” I say laughing.

“You have a shop in New Orleans then?”

“I do, I bought into my friend Frankie’s hair salon.”

“Hair and Tattoo?”

I laugh, “Yes, and nails, tanning; they are widely separated though. My part of the shop is segregated from the hair salon.”

“Is it lucrative?”

“It is, very much so. I hated leaving on such short notice, but you go where art calls you.”

“May I ask you something serious?” His tone has deepened and it’s one of his alluring attributes.

“Of course.” I mirror his reply.

“What happened to you?”

I take a deep breath because the way he presents the question is rather bold and technically none of his business, but I asked him and it’s only fair I divulge as well, “I was stalked by someone who used others to try and sever my ties to the world in order to make me theirs.” It’s not terribly far from the truth; the specifics are a highly blurred. “They killed my husband and tried to kill my kids in a fire.”

“Your studio? Right?”

“Right. I was taken into special custody and once my kids and I were safe we were released, it just so happen to coincide with my father returning from the dead after twenty two years.”

“Yes, I recall meeting your father when I was a teenager; he looks the same as he did then, now. The man ages well.”

I laugh, “Yep, those Creole features last forever.”

“But you don’t look Creole, well at least clothed you don’t.” He smiles, “I peg you for Scotch-Irish, especially your face and eyes.

“My mother was a Lancaster, English rose.”

“That’s it then, you favor your mother.” He pauses and shifts like he wants to ask something else, “When you were under “special” protection was Cian, the special protector?”

I begin to shift as well, “Yes.” And I want to divulge more but, it’s dangerous.

“But?”

“Hmm?” I mimic.

“You seems like you have more to say about it? I have a theory if you wouldn’t mind humoring me?”

“By all means.” It keeps me from speaking further; my mouth filter needs to start working.

“My theory is that he cared for you in your time of need, you formed the attraction out of his shielding you from the harm befalling you.” He sounds like Freud.

“That is part of it, yes; but there is so much more to it than that.” I stop trying to figure out how to put this nicely, “If I could tell you, I would; but it’s too complicated to get into. So many factions of the past lead up to it all.”

“You’re not in a cult are you?” He says laughing and I can’t help but do so too. That was funny.

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