Babysitter’s Club Noelle

by Jordan Silver

  I laid her on the changing table and made quick work of changing her wet diaper. It was one of the things I’d had to teach myself, but between YouTube and Google it hadn’t been the disaster I’d thought it would be.

  When I heard pounding footsteps coming up the stairs I didn’t have to wonder who that might be. Trudy seems to have only two speeds. Cowering, and stomping.

  And when I heard a bullet being moved into the chamber of a rifle and those footsteps retreating, I once again asked myself just what had I gotten myself into?

  I made a funny face at the baby, whose eyes were following me. Even the kid’s eyes seemed all knowing, like she could see right into me. I laughed off my fanciful musings and picked her up, intending to go in search of food. She must be hungry by now.

  I left the room and headed to the top of the stairs, looking down at the trio below. Two people wore approving smiles as I made my way down, but the third looked like she wanted to commit murder.

  I felt a moment’s hesitation. It was obvious that Callan and Sheila didn’t want Trudy near the baby, but I don’t know how I feel about coming between a mother and her child.

  Even more pressing for me. What am I supposed to do when Sheila’s not here with her trusty gun and Callan is off on an oil rig somewhere?

  “Oh look, she’s being so good for you.” Sheila walked over and patted the baby’s back lovingly while beaming at me. There was something more in her eyes than the friendly warmth you’d expect, but I brushed it off.

  The baby picked up her head and looked around, her face breaking into a wide toothless grin when her eyes landed on her daddy. She lifted her arms out to him and I walked over and passed her off.

  Something clutched in my tummy. Something warm and sweet and I thought I heard a child’s laughter somewhere in my head. I ignored the sensation as I stood there not knowing what to do with myself.

  “Why don’t I show you where her bottles and formula are kept and the rest of the stuff you’ll need to take care of her.” Callan walked off in the direction of the kitchen and I followed, leaving the two women alone.

  The kitchen was huge and though it had some modern amenities like a microwave, there was a potbellied stove and an actual working hearth along one wall.

  There was more than enough counter space, a shelf filled with yellowed cookbooks, a rocking chair of all things near the fire and copper pots hung on the walls and over the large worktable in the middle of the room.

  “Wow, this is nice.” I looked around in wonder, wondering who was responsible for keeping the place so neat. Somehow I didn’t see Trudy doing it, and I knew that Sheila had her own home on the other side of the property.

  “You cook?” He asked as he fetched a bottle from the fridge to put on top of the stove in the pot of water he’d put on to boil.

  “Not a lot! I’ve never really had reason to, but I do like to when I get the chance.” Our cook has been with the family since before I was born so there was never any reason for me to even be in our kitchen at home.

  But for some reason I could see me here, slicing and dicing, kneading bread even. It was weird all these things that were bombarding me all at once. Things I never gave thought to.

  “Well, feel free!” He pointed at the shelf of books. “Some of those are over two hundred years old. Family recipes that have been passed down from generation to generation.” He stopped with a wistful look on his face.

  “I’ve always dreamed of Isabelle growing up here and spending time in this kitchen learning to cook, like all the women in our family before her.” He made it sound like that was no longer a possibility.

  “Why can’t she?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips, because of the look that came over his face.

  “There’s no one to teach her. Mom’s getting up there in age and her… Trudy, well let’s just say she’s not the cooking or mothering type.”

  “I’ll teach her.” I don’t know where those words came from or why I even said them. But they seemed to please him if the light that came into his eyes was any measure.

  “Thank you!” That’s all he said to my faux pas. We both knew I was only here for the summer and his ten month old daughter was way too young for cooking lessons.

  I appreciated him not calling me on my slipup and it only took about five minutes for the blush to leave my cheeks. As soon as the bottle was ready we headed back to the other room.

  The hushed voices ceased as soon as we cleared the door. Awkward. I was about to suggest heading outside to grab my stuff since it seemed he hadn’t had time as yet, but he passed the baby to me.

  “Why don’t you try feeding her? She’s very fussy at feeding time, only likes me, or her grandma to feed her. But it’s hard when I have to be out in the field all day and this is mom’s canning season.”

  I took the baby and the bottle and looked around for a place to sit. There was another rocking chair by the window and I moved towards it.

  The view outside was amazing. It showed not only the front of the house, but also part of the side where there was a mound covered with roses. I imagined spending many a lazy afternoon sitting there.

  I’m not sure why he thought the baby would be fussy since she took the bottle without any fuss, her beautiful dark blue eyes smiling up at me as she fed.

  I smiled back at her and without giving it any thought, started rocking and humming a lullaby. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.

  It took me a minute to realize the rest of the room had gone deathly still. Even more of note was the look that passed between mother and son.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d messed up again until they both smiled at me like I was their long lost loved one. Only one person was not pleased and that of course was Trudy.

  She folded her arms and stomped out of the room and the little joy I’d begun to feel dissipated like smoke. It’s probably harsh, and I’m not usually a mean person. But I could almost wish she didn’t come with the package.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset her. Should I let her feed her baby, maybe…”

  “She’s not hers.” That was Sheila’s confusing answer.

  “But I thought…

  “No-no, you misunderstood. Her mom died giving birth to her. Trudy is her mom’s sister.” That was all I got, which only left me more confused.

  I could’ve sworn the woman had a possessive bend towards the man and child. I struggled to remember what Sheila had said during the interview, but I had been so lost in my own thoughts I may have misunderstood some things.

  I did feel a whole lot better now though. Now that I wasn’t coming between a mother and her child. Even if the woman in question did seem to want the position.

  Still, she must feel some responsibility towards her sister’s child. What was it that he’d said again? Oh, she’s not the motherly type.

  I put her and everything else out of my mind as I went back to feeding the baby who seemed happy enough. My first hurdle crossed I guess.

  In fact, for the rest of the day, the only time I felt calm and not like I was about to jump out of my skin, was when I was with the baby.

  The father left me feeling confused and needy. The aunt made me jumpy and the grandmother who was the only one I’d met before had disappeared just a short while after I came downstairs with the baby.

  And the house, well, I guess it’s going to take some getting used to. I’m pretty sure some of the sounds I heard were not in my head. But it could be no more than Callan had explained, just an old house settling.

  Noelle

  Things seemed to settle down somewhat that evening after I gave the baby a bath and put her down for the night.

  Sheila had returned from wherever she’d gone to long enough to make dinner, roast and potatoes and a blueberry pie, before going back to her own home.

  After I put the baby down I was supposed to head back downstairs to have dinner in the kitchen with Callan and I suppose Trudy as well. Whom I hadn’t
seen since this afternoon.

  I guess all the excitement had been too much for Isabelle because she fell asleep as soon as I sat in the rocking chair with her head resting on my chest.

  I almost didn’t want to go back downstairs, not quite wanting to deal with the craziness that was Trudy. But I was hungry, and besides, I wanted to see Callan again before turning in for the night.

  It had been a pleasant day all in all, spending time with him. His soothing voice as he shared some of the history of his home with me had made me feel at peace. Almost to the point where I could overlook Trudy and her lurking.

  We had yet to share a word with each other her and I and I still wasn’t quite sure what it was that she did here. I’m not about to ask either, as that would seem a bit forward.

  I wanted a shower and bed after the rollercoaster day that I’d had. But Sheila’s roast did smell good, and again, there was Callan.

  I walked into the kitchen where meals were usually eaten except for Holidays and special occasions, per Callan.

  For that there was the formal dining room and the less formal one, which was used on lesser occasions I guess.

  They were both sitting at the table not speaking to each other. There was a place set for me at his right hand where he sat at the head of the table, while she sat all the way at the other end.

  I cleared my throat as I took my seat and he looked at me smilingly. “She went down okay, no problem?”

  I nodded yes though I was sure he already knew the answer to that, seeing as how there was a monitor sitting next to his elbow.

  The things were all over the place as well as baby cameras. I even had one in my room on my nightstand so I could hear her in the night if she needed me.

  I looked fleetingly at the other end of the table where Trudy was cutting into her meet so forcefully the cutlery scraped across the fine china with an annoying screeching sound.

  He didn’t seem to notice, or he was an expert at ignoring her. The look on her face was enough to spoil my dinner, so I kept my head down and focused on my plate.

  His low mesmerizing voice soon distracted me from my thoughts as he started asking me questions about myself. It’s odd how that worked.

  It was a bit odd having a conversation with him when the other occupant was entirely left out. But I soon relaxed as he kept the conversation light.

  By the time I made it back upstairs I was bone tired. I hadn’t even had time to unpack yet and wasn’t looking forward to it now either.

  But I needed my nightclothes which usually consisted of an over large tee shirt and shorts, which were optional.

  In the room I unzipped my case which Callan had finally brought up earlier that day along with my box of books and the laptop I never went anywhere without.

  As I moved to pack my stuff away in the armoire and chest of drawers, I noticed that one of the drawers already held something. I removed it and found a cotton nightgown.

  The innocent looking garment felt gossamer thin, but something about it was very appealing. Just looking at it I could almost feel the coolness of it against my skin. It was perfect for the warm summer evening.

  Did I mention that the house did not have air conditioning, but instead used huge ceiling fans to keep the place cool? I don’t know how but somehow they seem to get the job done.

  When I held the nightie up to the light I noticed it wasn’t that innocent after all. I could see right through the light cotton, but that was no deterrent.

  That soft cool cotton was just the thing to get me through the long sticky summer night. Much better than my thicker tee for sure.

  I don’t know why. Why I left off unpacking and made my way down the hallway to the bathroom at the other end. Or why I carried the gown with me?

  I attributed my slow movements to tiredness, and the fact that I didn’t quite feel like I was the one in charge of my own body to the same. After the accident this had happened a lot in fact, so I wasn’t too worried about it.

  I removed my clothes like a stripper dancing to an old slow tune. Slowly and methodically. My skin prickled in the coolness of the cavernous bathroom, my nipples hardening under the breeze that came through the open window.

  Once in the shower I stayed under the water, way too long. Washing away the grime of the day as well as any lingering heartache that I might have brought with me.

  I don’t recall ever having a shower quite like it. My hands moved the soap over my body almost like a lover. And since when is my skin this sensitive?

  Every little touch seemed to touch off a spark of something in me. So that by the time I was rinsing off, I felt a tingling between my legs and my breasts felt heavy.

  Once my shower was over, I moved almost dreamlike as I dried my skin before pulling the cotton gown over my head.

  I watched in the old silver mirror over the sink as it fell into place, coming to an end above my knees. Just as I imagined, it was cool and comfy and I admired the way it moved around my body as I walked.

  My medium sized breasts looked fuller, firmer, beneath the cloth with no bra. And I could see though the lighting was a bit dim, the space between my thighs. I hadn’t brought any underwear into the bath with me. I felt decadent.

  There was a brush sitting there on the vanity which I used to brush my waist length hair to a shine, before gathering my dirty clothes and leaving the room again, heading back to mine.

  My limbs felt as if I were moving through molasses and suddenly my tiredness became overpowering. And that bed, it looked so inviting. I almost groaned out loud as I imagined how good it was going to feel once I climbed in.

  I dropped my dirty clothes on the chair and climbed into bed, looking forward to the first good night’s sleep in a while.

  It was then I remembered that I hadn’t called anyone since I arrived. I’d just sent off a text to Amy and mom telling them that I’d got here safe. I’ll call them tomorrow.

  I settled in with a smile, hugging my pillow. A pillow that smelt strongly of lavender in spring. As soon as my head hit the pillow I fell into the most restful sleep I’ve had in forever.

  I felt comfy and safe in the old fashioned bed that seemed to envelope me in warmth; shutting me in from the rest of the outside world. My body felt weightless, light…

  The dream started out slow. I knew it was a dream because of the feeling surrounding me, but it seemed so real. Like I was standing off to the side looking through a glass window as the scenery unfolded.

  It was this room, but there was something different. There was a table by the window with a flower vase holding a magnolia blossom.

  That’s strange, that has always been my favorite bloom. The same silver brush that I’d used to brush my hair was there as well and a picture frame.

  I strained to see who was in the picture but there was some kind of veil over it that obscured my view. Dream me moved around the room touching things, running my fingers gently over everything.

  There was a sense of excitement building, as if I were waiting for something. Outside I could hear the sounds of the night. Insects in the grass, birds in the trees and off in the distance, the mating call of a bullfrog.

  Behind me a door opened. As I turned, the firelight caught my gown. It was the one I’d worn to bed. My body was naked beneath and I could see the firm tilt off my breasts and dark hair covering the vee between my thighs.

  Callan came into the room, but this wasn’t the same Callan from before, he was different. He looked the same but his clothes were from another era and so was the lantern he was carrying in his hand.

  It’s just the way I’d imagined him looking earlier. My heart started beating faster and I wasn’t sure if it was the dream or the real me. Things started to blur.

  In fact, I wasn’t sure if I were still asleep or in some weird state between sleep and wake. He moved quietly into the room, to the table by the window and placed the lantern there before turning to me.

  There was a light in his eyes when he moved in close
. My head went back, bringing to mind just how much taller he was. And when his hand came up to palm my cheek I didn’t shy away.

  In fact I turned my face into that palm. It felt so familiar, so comforting. Like he’d done just that in just that way, a thousand times.

  He looked into my eyes until I became mesmerized. Outside there was a loud indiscernible cry, but his hand on my face held me spellbound so I didn’t feel the need to look.

  He traced a pattern on my cheek with the pad of his thumb as he held my eyes with his. Now, not only my heart, but my whole body seemed to throb and pulsate as my breath got trapped in my lungs.

  I saw the intent in his eyes seconds before mine started to drift closed. Could already feel the touch of his lips against mine.

  I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped me, the sound of need that was so foreign. I thought I saw him smile.

  As he lowered his head, his lips moved and I could’ve sworn he said the words, ‘I’ve been waiting for you’. Just before his lips touched mine.

  Noelle

  It felt right being in his arms, getting that close. Something I would never have done in reality. But this was just a dream. Here I could give in to the attraction I felt upon first meeting him.

  Here it was okay that his arms wrapped around me like a tight band in the darkened room. When my breasts pressed against his hard chest and I felt heat between my thighs, I didn’t shy away. Because it was just a dream.

  The kiss was soft and dreamlike, drawing me in, making me hunger for more. My hands found their way into his curls and held, as his tongue moved deeper into the softness of my mouth.

  I felt his hand move up my thigh beneath my gown, rough and hard against my soft heated flesh. I opened for him when he pushed his hand between my thighs and felt his fingers against my forbidden flesh.

  I moaned into his mouth when one of those fingers rubbed back and forth over my swollen button. Pressing my flesh harder into his hand.