Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "kindle"
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/...
What a difference a day makes...
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.
: http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
http://www.pinterest.com/augustafern/...
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.
: http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
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.
