Tag Archives: Stanhouser

Chapter Ten: Trevor

1 Jun
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com

Now. Last weekend. Nathaniel had popped the question. She could not believe she was already engaged to be married to a man she was sure was her dream come true. He was good-looking, confident, gracious, steeped in social skills and was content with L C Just as she was. Not to mention financially he was well off with a promising future. They would have their own children.

L C had been cruising by the vegetables looking at cucumbers and chives when Trevor came smiling around the corner. He had the look of a man who was either once very skinny and just starting to put on weight, or who was once heavy and was just about to become thin.

His grin was the quietly self-assured grin of a man who never met anyone who wasn’t his instant friend. It was easy to tell why. Other men would have chosen this opportunity to make sexually loaded comments about the cucumber she was holding. How that would be received would depend on the woman and her mood.

Trevor did not. Instead he picked up a gourd with an outrageously crooked neck and started telling her all the things she could do with it once she was the proud owner. Using his apron with the store emblem proudly emblazoned on it he showed her how it would make a great-coat rack. Hanging it from his thumb he showed her what an excellent bird house it would make. Grasping its crook and swinging it jauntily he demonstrated bashing in the heads of unwanted intruders. And if she felt inclined to want to keep this precious gem with her she could make a hole in the bottom and wear it for a hat. He did a small pirouette with it sitting on top of his head.

Not to mention when she had finished it would make a great edible and was easily cooked to taste.

She was having the greatest fun when she looked up and saw Raymond staring at them. He was down near the far end of the store, near the liquor aisle. At first she thought something must be terribly wrong.

Quickly she excused herself from Trevor. When she turned back Raymond was nowhere to be found. He was no longer in the store.

Later when she had called him on the phone Raymond said nothing was wrong, he was just tired and would she go out with him come Friday. She begged off saying this weekend the Langlins had planned a trip to the zoo and she was expected to escort Guinevere.

“When you marry me, L C You won’t have to work. I won’t allow it.”

“I like to work. I like being a nanny.”

“Taking care of our children will be a full-time job.”

Suddenly L C knew she could not, and would never, marry Raymond. Now she was angry with herself for not having told Raymond right away she was interested in someone else. Yet she could not figure out how to tell him now.

The next time she went in Stanhouser’s Market everyone was polite to her. No one was friendly. The men called her “Ma’am” When she asked about Trevor she was told “He doesn’t work here any more.” and nothing else.

When she asked Raymond he answered with a question, “Why would you concern yourself about him?”

 

 

© 2013 All Rights Reserved

Chapter One: The Child

31 Mar

Brenda

The little girl dashed from between two parked cars, heedless of the monster SUV bearing down on her. She was five years old, long blonde hair in neat curls, frilly silk dress, her legs pumping as fast as she could move them. The driver did not see her.

At first L C didn’t see her either. It was early in the morning. The time of day L C liked best, the sun breaking across a translucent blue sky. Three marshmallow clouds drifting gently to nowhere in particular. She took a deep breath of the crisp, cool air. She just finished shopping for her mother at her favorite store. Stanhouser’s Market, owned by Raymond Stanhouser, a pleasant man who inherited the store, free and clear, from his father. Divorced once, two children. Several times Raymond asked her out. He was older than she, but not much. He wanted a wife for himself and a mother for his children. As her mother pointed out, “You could do a lot worse.”

She was leaving the market, pushing a cart overladen with groceries in front of her, when she saw the little girl.

A woman ran two car lengths behind the child screaming for her to “Come back here and do it now.” The only effect her yelling had was to attract the attention of all the adults, including the attention of the driver of the car bearing down on the little girl. He was now looking at the screaming woman rather than were he was going.

L C let go of her shopping basket, allowing it roll down the sloped parking lot, and sprinted toward the speeding little girl. She dived like a defensive guard would tackle a quarterback. She grabbed the girl’s dress with one hand. It tore a little, but it slowed the child down. With her other hand L C grabbed a patent leather shoe. It slipped off. Pulling on the dress harder it tore even more but it brought the girl closer to her. Close enough so when she dropped the shoe she could swing her other arm around the child’s waist. She pulled the child into her clutching arms, spinning away from the advancing front tire.  The two of them spun as one in a half circle, their faces leaving the path of the tire just as it bore down upon them. L C’s leg sliding under the car, in the path of its rear wheel. The SUV’s front tire ran over the shoe, flattening it, leaving tire marks, stopping inches from the noses of L C and the girl frozen together on the asphalt. L C found herself staring at the valve stem.  The back tire was almost on top of L C’s foot just touching the heel of her own shoe. Her first thought was, “All those years of mom dragging me off to ballet and tumbling finally paid off.”

The driver stared out his window at them in horror, eyes round and popping, mouth squared and wide.

The shopping cart crashed into the trunk of an old green chevy that was backing out of its parking space, denting the trunk, tipping over, and scattering groceries across the parking lot.

L C stood up, shaking, clutching her small charge, whose eyes stared fixedly at the SUV as she clung to L C’s neck. The woman, who had been screaming incessantly, arrived. She was still screaming. Her black hair was styled as rigidly as her expression. Her dress was a straight, no nonsense cut. She exuded the confidence of a school principal about to excoriate a delinquent child.

“Give her to me.” The woman demanded. She reached for the little girl. “I am her nanny.”

Instinctively L C turned away. The girl’s hold on L C’s neck increased so tightly it choked her. The tiny hands were wrapped in L C’s hair, which was not blonde, and had never been bleached, but was the color of honey mustard which reached to her shoulder blades.

The driver of the green chevy launched out of his car, staring first at the mess, then at the dent in his trunk, and began yelling in their general direction, waving his arms vigorously.

“I said give her to me.” There was no friendliness in the woman’s voice, no thank you, and no concern for the child. There was simply the demand that she be turned over. Now.

The nanny was at a disadvantage. Though a little tall for an average woman, about five foot six inches, the height of a beauty queen, L C Was five foot ten, a few years younger and had been athletic in school.

When the man with the dented car realized no one was paying attention to him or his complaint, he began beating the trunk with his fist as though he were chairman of the parking lot determined to bring order to all chaos.

L C tried to see the girl’s face but could not. “Let her calm down. I think she’s scared.” She tried to make her voice soothing to both the woman and the child although she was angry. The girl looked at the woman who was grabbing at her and started to cry. The driver of the car rolled down his window and demanded, “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

A confident male voice asked, “Are you the child’s mother?”

Both women turned to look at him. His hair was black, cut in an almost, but not quite, military style. His expression was neither friendly nor unfriendly. His clothing was neither cheap, nor expensive. “Suitable,” L C’s mother would have said.

“Who I am is none of your business. My boss is an extremely important person in this town and if this woman doesn’t release this child to me immediately I am calling the police and having her arrested.” The woman’s intimidating stare was meant to put the newcomer in his place.

The man gave a formal, neutral smile, “Then you need look no further, Ma’m. I am here.”

(C) 2013 All rights reserved

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A great WordPress.com site

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because anything is possible with Charisma

War By Other Means

Politics & Philosophy

this is... The Neighborhood

the Story within the Story

stillness of heart

MUSINGS : CRITICISM : HISTORY : PASSION

The Guilty Preacher Man

abandoned illustrations

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A tall women amazon model WordPress.com sit

Three Wise Guys

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Mister G Kids

A daily comic about real stuff little kids say in school. By Matt Gajdoš

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Judy-Jodie and Kelli Memorial Blog

A great WordPress.com site

A Financial Life Coach

Your Financial Life Coach

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Dysfunctional Literacy

Just because you CAN read Moby Dick doesn't mean you should.

Top 10 of Anything and Everything - The Fun Top Ten Blog

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Thoughts

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