(no subject)
Stalling a titch with the fic-gifts, soooo...
Banner by aliensouldream
Title: Ezekiel's Way--5
Pairing/Characters: No pairing yet, OMCs, "Ezekiel", Connor-fam
Rating: light NC-17
Genre: AU period-piece, circa 1905
Author's Note: For my sweetheart, verangel, a lovely friend and confidant. :)
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey fights to help Ezekiel acclimate to his 'new world'.
Previous Parts
The boys' mood was noticed straightaway the next morning when they sat at the breakfast table. As they giggled into their seats, Dina went over to pour their tea for them, a small smile on her face. “Right side of the bed this morn, eh?” she asked.
“We were just laughing over the dream I'd had,” Casey said, his speech dotted with more chuckles. “All I'll say is that it involved a cake, large enough to leap upon as if it was a trampoline.”
“Ah, what an adventure.” Mr. Connor grinned over the rim of his coffee-cup. “Sad to say, I never remember my dreams. Perhaps nothing of note happens in them.”
“I was thinking about baking a cake for dessert tonight. An honest-to-goodness, rum-spiced cake,” Mrs. Connor said. Casey's eyes widened with delight.
“Oh, will you?”
“Why not? I'm sure Dina would appreciate some company in the kitchen,” Mrs. Connor said, looking to their servant with a smile. Dina winked her way.
“Ah, too true,” she said.
The platters of breakfast fare were passed between them, each member of the family taking their share while chit-chatting about not much at all. When the waffles reached Ezekiel, the young man paused to stare at them with intense scrutiny. He brought a finger up with what looked to be great caution then poked into one of the holes; Casey chuckled, plucked the waffle with his fork and placed it onto Ezekiel's plate. “It's almost like... a hard, crispier cake. A waffle,” he told the confused-looking boy.
“Make sure it has plenty of syrup.” Mr. Connor passed the small jug of the maple syrup to him.
“Maybe Casey should pour it for him...?” Mrs. Connor quickly-and very wisely, suggested. Casey had to laugh yet again in picturing Ezekiel pouring the sweet sap all over the plate, table and rug.
“Here.” Casey upended the jug to let a long line drizzle over the waffle, until it looked just right. Next came a pat of butter, placed into the largest pool of heated syrup. “It's delicious, go on.”
Ezekiel made a sniff then dipped his finger into a dot of the sticky mess to taste. The moment he gave his fingertip a light suck, his eyes lit up and blinked wildly. “Yes. Syrup,” he said before immediately grabbing his fork to tuck in.
“Erm...” Mrs. Connor watched with slight concern as the young man cut, stabbed, devoured, cut, stabbed, devoured, fast and constant. Each piece he took off grew in size with every bite. “Ezekiel, sweetheart, don't choke on it. There's plenty more.”
“He has a thing for sweets, I've noticed. He rather enjoyed Dina's cream puffs yesterday,” Mr. Connor remarked with a smile.
“Have you ever had anything sweet, besides fruit?” Casey asked him. Ezekiel finally paused between bites to look at him and nod.
“There were hives; I'd often stolen myself a handful of honey,” Ezekiel replied.
“Oh! But-bees, the stinging!” Mrs. Connor said.
“If you were not careful...” Ezekiel gave her a cocky grin. “I was only attacked once. Stung ALL over. My Aurugah mother set me out at a riverbed, covered in mud.”
“Erm, that-has to do with bee stings how?” Casey asked with a small guffaw.
“That must have helped, actually; I can see it,” Mrs. Connor said, nodding with understanding as she looked to Casey. “Remember when you got stung by that hornet, when you were very little? A baking soda paste did the trick.”
Casey DID remember-not that fondly, of course. His mother had calmed him with the mixture and silly songs, ones made up on-the-fly that made him laugh. “So mud would help too, eh?” he said.
“It did. Sometimes I'd go down to the river and cover myself for no reason. Felt very nice on dry days,” Ezekiel said.
“There are spa-retreats I've seen that use mud. Quite expensive mud,” Mr. Connor said. “Perhaps running to a riverbed would be cheaper.”
Playful chatter continued, with Ezekiel devouring waffle after waffle, ignoring all else besides the cherry juice and one sausage link. Once finished, Casey backed away from the table and wiped his lips with his napkin. “That was delicious,” he said when Dina walked into the room to give refills of tea and coffee. “Thank you, Dina.”
“You're very welcome, Master Casey,” she said.
“I'm sure Ezekiel would say 'thank you' as well, if he'd stop to breathe at any point,” Casey said, giving Ezekiel a small jab with his elbow.
~*~
Another lovely day was in store for Wandsworth. The sun beat down with enough warmth to make their clothing light, while the soft breezes kept Casey and Ezekiel comfortably cool as they walked down the pebbled road together. “You haven't had sweets until you've had candies from Penelope's shop,” Casey told Ezekiel, who had paused to snap a large branch off of a fallen limb. He poked the ground with it, took off some stray leaves then nodded.
“A good walking stick,” he said as he continued on with Casey, striding with the stick leading the way.
“Yes. Any-way, father gave us enough coin to get bushels of sweets. And the fudge? Oh, to die for,” Casey said.
“What is fudge?”
“You like chocolate, right?” Casey asked. At Ezekiel's nod, Casey grinned from ear-to-ear. “Then you will want to marry fudge.”
Ezekiel chuckled and shrugged. “Then I will have to eat my weight in it.”
“And it comes in so many flavors. Chocolate, chocolate-mint, maple walnut... oh, but you'll love that,” Casey said with rampant chuckling. “See? So many positives in our country--”
A sudden loud honk! came from behind, startling them both, but especially Ezekiel. The young man whirled around and his eyes widened at the sight coming toward them. “It's one of those-things,” he said.
“Ugh, yes. An automobile. Wonderful,” Casey said, and he only grew more displeased when he saw the sleek, metallic beast's occupants. “Of course...”
“Casey!” Geoff Martins, Wandsworth's most infamous braggart and wealthiest son pulled up close to the two boys. His friend-or lackey, really, as most people saw him, Carlton Winthrop, short and stout, sat in the passenger side with a big grin. “How are you this fine day?”
“Very well, thank you; yourself?” Casey replied.
“All is right and fine with the world-cor!” Geoff all but leapt from his seat in his looking to Ezekiel. “The savage hisself!”
Casey almost scowled; he glanced to Ezekiel, who was staring on with great caution. “His name is Ezekiel Tyler,” Casey said. “Ezekiel, this is Geoff Martins and Carlton Winthrop.”
“The jungle brute! How is he fancying our great country, eh?” Carlton asked with a guffaw.
“He fancies it fine; and as you can tell, he's standing directly next to me, capable of hearing any questions you wish to ask him,” Casey said with an overly-sweet smile.
“Aye, but whether he can reply is the issue. I suppose I can muster up a few 'ooh-ooh-ahh-ahh's to communicate, if I have to,” Geoff joked, making his companion snigger along.
“'G' is for Geoff,” Ezekiel finally found his voice to say.
“Ah! Good, good! I cannot wait until your first published work--”
“And grandstanding. Goat. Garish. Gall...”
Casey sucked in his smile as Ezekiel, putting on his best innocent look, listed not-so-favorable words. Geoff made a smirk and raised his eyebrows. “Well, if you boys would like a ride into town, there's plenty of room in the backseat,” he said.
“A kind offer, but no, thank you. We're rather enjoying our stroll,” Casey said. “We're only making one stop, at Penny's.”
“Well, we'll meet you there! We have a hankering for fudge ourselves. Cheerio!”
Carlton waved them off as Geoff put the car back into gear and rumbled down the road. The dust and smell they left behind made both Casey and Ezekiel grimace and wave their hands in front of their faces. “You forgot 'gracious',” Casey told Ezekiel.
“On purpose,” Ezekiel replied.
Both of them shared a chuckle, until Casey sighed and shook his head. “I apologize for their brutish behavior, Ezekiel. Those two louts aren't known for their manners or general kindness,” he said.
“There are always a few bad eggs,” Ezekiel said. “I... got that right, right?”
“Oh, yes. Very right,” Casey said.
“Even back in my homeland, we'd get a few brutes that thought they were the best of us all. When it came down to growling it out, they'd eventually lose.”
“Growling? That's how you'd settle disputes?”
“A precursor to fighting. If they gave up and shrank away after the growling, no blood would be shed.”
Casey's curiosity piqued. “I wonder if you would've made those two wet themselves with that.”
Ezekiel sighed, shrugged then looked to Casey. His lips parted as if he were about to speak when suddenly, he jerked forward inches from Casey's face, snarled his lip and let out the gruffest, gut-shuddering growl Casey had ever heard, even more intimidating than the loud call he'd made from the treetops the day before. Casey jumped back, wide-eyed and shaken, but he recovered quickly to laugh in titters. “Scratch that, no wondering; Geoff would have driven them off the road to their deaths!”
“YOU do it,” Ezekiel said.
“Growl? Oh, certainly not.”
“Why not?”
“I can't growl. I can barely shout across the house to Mother.”
Ezekiel pish-ed and gave his chest a hearty slapping. “It comes from here; one big breath to fill your lungs, then let out like you'd breathed in a hive of bees,” he said. “It helps to think of something that angers you, of course.”
“Well, of course,” Casey said.
“Try it. Just once?”
Casey rolled his eyes but smiled. He paused in their walking to clear his throat; Ezekiel shook his head fast. “Don't do that, don't make room,” he said.
“Hush, you said 'try'.” Casey smiled, sighed again and puffed out his chest. 'Angry... something that angers you...' Their latest encounter was good enough fuel. As he imagined that blasted car careening off into oblivion from his animalistic, angry roaring, Casey opened his mouth wide and let out a loud, disorganized mix of yelling and coughing. Ezekiel made a skeptical expression.
“We'll... try again sometime.”
“I told you.”
It wasn't long before the pebbled road became wider and they reached the small village of shops, the church and town green. Despite the weather, not many were around; a child and her mother stood at the pond in the green, complete with a working fountain in the middle, feeding crackers to the squawking ducks swimming about. Ezekiel stared their way, smiling a little when the little girl yelped and jumped away from a large white goose who seemed to come out from nowhere to snatch her bag of crackers. “This is nice,” Ezekiel said.
“Mmm, it's comfortable. We're close to the city, but not TOO close,” Casey replied.
“Where's the...” Ezekiel went to ask something, but stopped and began sniffing the air intently. No mystery here; Casey let the sweet scents into his nostrils as well, sighing with pleasure.
“Penny's made the first fudge of the day, all right,” he said. He nodded to the shop, just two doors down. “Right over here.”
Ezekiel walked with purpose now until they were up the set of two stone steps and walking in; the light tinkling of bells sounded their arrival; Ezekiel darted his eyes up to them and stared as they swayed, even reaching up to tap them. Casey smiled and tugged at his sleeve. “C'mon, then,” he said.
Now past the front of the shop, they entered the heart of candy-heaven. Casey slowed his steps to gaze into the baskets full of sugar treats, from gobstoppers to rock-candy. “Here,” Casey said, reaching into the stack of purple-colored rock candy sticks. He handed Ezekiel one and smiled. “I've actually made these myself, though nowhere near as well as Miss Penny does.”
Ezekiel turned the candy by its stick, eyebrows raised. “It looks... like glass,” he said.
“Yes, it does. Oh, Chickles...” Casey now dove to his right, seeing another favorite of his. No waiting here; he took up one of the small paper bags and scoop to fill it with the multicolored candies. “Wait until you've had a few of these. Just don't eat any until I've instructed you as to HOW they're eaten, all right?”
“Hah, sure...”
The dark floorboards creaked and cracked as they shuffled along, each potential purchase making them both stare away. Root beer barrels were Casey's next choice, while Ezekiel became entranced by licorice-laces. More and more small bags were being stuffed in Casey's arms, making him jog over to the shopping baskets. They needed the room.
“Mummy! I want the rosies!” a child's excited cry came from the next aisle. Both boys looked over, finding a young lad with his mother; the woman took a small tin down from the shelf and smiled. Casey smiled as well.
“The homemade treats are lovely... but they also carry imported candies,” he told Ezekiel as he led them over. Just as they rounded the end of the aisle, the little boy came shooting around toward them, excited about sweets and chattering as he smacked dead-on into Ezekiel. His tin of candies dropped from his hand, luckily staying together.
“Evan!” His mother cried, rushing over. She looked to Ezekiel and sighed with frustration. “I apologize for my son's blundering about.”
“That's... all right,” Ezekiel said.
“Evan, tell the nice man you're sorry,” she told the boy, who screwed up his face with a child's usual defiance.
“I'm sorry, Mistah,” he said.
Ezekiel smiled, patted him on the head and said, “No worries.” The mother, smiling gratefully, moved her boy along to the counter.
“Come on then, my little monkey...” she affectionately said; Ezekiel's eyebrows quirked up at this.
“Monkey?”
“It's a term of endearment; yet MORE positives,” Casey said. He reached the shelf full of fancy tins and sighed. “The boy had good taste. Rose pastilles, with an anise seed in the core. Delicious,” he said as he dropped two of the tins into the basket. “And... violet. Oh, yes...”
The bells in the front dinged again, followed by loud laughter. Casey didn't have to guess as to who had just walked in; didn't need to, as Geoff and Carlton came around the corner, heading their way. “Ah, ye made it!” Carlton said.
“Amazing, isn't it?” Casey said.
“Good lord, Casey. There's enough sweets in there to feed an... wait. You didn't,” Geoff said. Casey frowned.
“Didn't what?”
“Don't tell me our new friend brought an elephant home with him!”
Casey gave the pair a dry, bored look as they chortled away. “As always, your humor is impeccable,” he replied.
“Oh, we kid! Let us have a laugh, eh?” Carlton said.
“A laugh is fine, as long as it isn't at the expense of another,” Casey curtly replied. The boys ooh'ed.
“Can't take a joke? Come now...” Geoff turned to Ezekiel and smiled; it reminded Casey of an annoying, loud hyena's grin. “...I'm sure you DID ride elephants back where you're from, am I right?”
“Not... many in my area of the woods, no,” Ezekiel replied.
“No? Then what DID you ride, lions?”
Carlton's teasing made one corner of Ezekiel's lips turn up. “Dear me, no. Much too dangerous,” he said. “I've fought lions, however.”
“Ah... I'm positive,” Geoff said with a sarcastic nod. Ezekiel read it easily enough as he sighed, untucked one side of his shirt and lifted it along with the jacket to reveal the scarring. This seemed to shut the idiots' mouths as they stared, eyes wide at the markings.
“And I won. Though that should go without saying.”
Casey had to swallow down the raging laughter building up inside of him. 'That'll teach you both,' he thought as he patted Ezekiel's arm. “Cover yourself, Ezekiel. That's simply so improper,” he said in a snide, sarcastic tone. Again, Ezekiel saw the humor, nodded once and put the shirt back in order.
“Are we done?”
“Ah... fudge, remember?”
“Ooh...”
“Yes. Fudge,” Geoff said, tugging his friend over to the counter to join the boys. For the next small while, the four were preoccupied with gazing and smacking their lips at the trays of gorgeous, thick and aromatic confections. As predicted, Ezekiel chose a wedge of the maple-walnut flavor, while Casey made sure to make an assortment of all six flavors, “Just in case,” as he put it. Penny herself served them; when she realized who Ezekiel was, she almost dropped the wedge she was cutting for Geoff.
“Oy! You're-him!” she said. Geoff and Carlton watched on as the woman, curious but kind, asked how he was taking to his new home, if it was “All too diff'rent?” or “Have ye been into London yet? What sights!” Ezekiel replied cordially, smiling through the small conversation. At the end, she brought their fudges to the counter and grinned Casey's way. “He kin have his maple for free t'day.”
“Oh, really...”
“Eh! The lady o' the house's spoken.” She made a sweet, coy wink to Ezekiel, who bit his lip and grinned at the dark wooden counter full of their treats. Once a king's ransom had been handed over, Casey took up the large bag and nudged Ezekiel to the aisle with him.
“Thank you, Miss Penny-have a lovely day!” he called to her.
“You as well!”
Casey sighed away any remaining tension and walked through the door Ezekiel held open for him. “Thank you,” he said, getting a shrug and grunt as a reply. He walked them over to the bench by the road, which happened to sit in front of Geoff's auto. “I mean... they ARE a grand invention. I just hope they start teaching classes as to how to operate them. Geoff could use a few semesters in that.”
“Where does he live in town?” Ezekiel asked.
“Only a half-a-mile down the road from our house, then a turn to the right,” Casey replied. Ezekiel scoffed.
“What would be wrong with walking, then?”
“Why, Ezekiel-surely you jest.” Casey leaned in with a bright, wicked grin. “How would he be able to tout his privilege, letting this hunk of metal sit in the drive while he plods along like a commoner?”
This made Ezekiel snort, wink then sigh his way into the candy stash. The fudge was taken up first, of course. Ezekiel opened the box, pushed the wax paper aside and leaned down to breathe it in. “Remember... how you'd asked me not to complain anymore?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I'm not complaining.”
Casey tittered with joyful giggles, pulled a corner of the mint-chocolate fudge off and raised it. “A REAL toast to your 'coming home',” he said. Ezekiel smiled and followed suit, taking some maple-walnut up to Casey's fudge, tapping it lightly then bringing it to his hungry mouth.
“Oh,” he murmured as he rolled the confection around his tongue. “Yes. Yes.”
“You won't find fudge like this just anywhere,” Casey said. He paused to let the sugar and flavorings melt in his mouth, pooling into every corner and crevice. “And you mustn't eat it too fast. It's meant to be taken little by little. Save the gorging for waffles.”
Ezekiel chuckled and next tried the mint. He was skeptical, but upon getting a taste he expressed that its flavor closely resembled a leafy plant he'd eat after meals in his homeland. “It freshened your mouth,” he said, and Casey agreed.
“So, do you like it?”
Casey almost answered, “Of course!” but realized it wasn't Ezekiel asking the question. Instead, he watched as Geoff went to the auto, leaned upon the hood and patted it. “It's... nice,” he said.
“MORE than nice. We're talking of taking a trip to Southampton with it, come next summer,” Geoff said.
“That's quite a haul. Do you think it could handle it?” Casey asked. Geoff scoffed and chortled.
“Are you joking? Of COURSE it can, as long as you can get the petrol for it. Mighty expensive, but worth the price,” he said.
“No more crowded train cars for us,” Carlton said, now sidling up to Geoff with a goofy smile. Geoff gave him a sarcastic look.
“What is this 'us', wee lad?”
“Ah, come off it! You SAID I'd get a lift any time I like!”
“If ye cough up the petrol-money, 'course.”
As much as Casey disliked Carlton and his willingness to be Geoff's pitiful sidekick, he didn't like watching Geoff touting himself and his wealth. Carlton wasn't poor, but was in no way able to get his own automobile. Casey himself could, but felt no need for it. “It's a fad, plain and simple,” Mr. Connor had once said when an ad for autos appeared in the newspaper.
“Horses and the like, they're on their way out,” Geoff dismissively said. “It's high-time we came up with a more efficient way to travel. And boys, this... is it.”
Casey tried his best to look impressed as Geoff wiped his handkerchief over the sleek black metal hood. “Yes. It's delightful,” he said.
“It smells,” Ezekiel said. Geoff quirked an eyebrow at him.
“More than your family, back home? I somehow doubt that,” he said.
“Oh, they smelled; like earth, sweat and sometimes excrement,” Ezekiel boldly replied. “Natural enough.”
“Hah, yes, please have yourself a shit right here in the dirt so we can take in its most lovely aroma,” Geoff said.
“Watch your tongue,” Casey warned.
“He said it, I didn't. HE may leak, but this machine doesn't,” Geoff replied.
“It doesn't? But I just saw a leak, underneath,” Ezekiel said.
Geoff frowned, blinked and leaned down to look. “Where?”
Ezekiel groaned to a stand, took the front bumper and pulled it up. Casey expected the metal to break and crack apart... 'Not a lawsuit,' he thought with dread, but was suddenly taken aback as the entire car raised up off the ground a good four feet. It creaked and stopped when its back bumper touched the ground. Ezekiel strained his neck to look at the dirt below. “Oh. I'm sorry, it must have been a shadow.”
“MUMMY! He just lifted up the automobile!”
“Not now, dear... how much did you say these linens... pardon me, excuse me?”
Casey looked to the right, where Mr. Danbury's fabric shop sat. The man was staring their way, jaw dropped as his customer, too engrossed in his 'Out-of-Doors Sale!' fabric-purchasing, tried waving her hand in front of his face. Her daughter tugged at her dress, pointing their way. “Is true, Mummy, is true!” Meanwhile, both Geoff and Carlton gasped, gawked and stuttered as Ezekiel let the car down with ease, rubbed his hands together and sat down.
“Did'ye... see...”
“Shut your gob and get in the car!”
Shuddering laughter shook Casey's chest as Geoff shoved a stunned Carlton to the passenger side, while he scurried to the driver's. He pointed a finger at Ezekiel. “If there are any damages, I'll be sending you the repair bill!”
“There aren't any; it's in perfect shape, you were right,” Ezekiel coolly replied and waved.
The car was turned on and rumbled back; Carlton prattled on, asking, “Did ye see, how he'd--” getting an angry, “Shut! Up!” as a reply. As they finally zoomed away, Casey let out a loud, piercing laugh.
“Ezekiel! Th-That was-oh dear god in heaven!” he nearly screeched. Ezekiel sighed, broke off another wedge of maple-walnut fudge and shrugged.
“It wasn't much of a feat. It was quite light; cheaply made,” he said with a wink.
~*~
“Now... the most important rule here is don't swallow it.”
Ezekiel stared at the small handful of Chickles he held. “But it's candy.”
“I know. But it's a type of candy, very special,” Casey said. He leaned back on the grass and smiled wide. “Just chew it. You'll see. Try the green ones, those are my favorite; mint, like the fudge was.”
“All right.” Still looking suspicious, Ezekiel picked out three greens, popped them into his mouth and started chewing. His face screwed up in confusion as he kept at it. “It's not melting, like the spice drops.”
“No-that's why it's special. It's a candy you can enjoy all day,” Casey cheerfully replied.
Ezekiel's eyes fluttered madly as he stopped to take the green, sticky gum out of his mouth. He looked upon it, smacking his lips. “It's very odd,” he said.
“But don't you like it?”
“Yes. Just odd.”
Casey took a deep breath and went to his back, enjoying the feel of soft grass upon it. For a moment, he wished he was less inhibited and could simply throw off the shirt; however thin it was, he was sure grass felt better on bared skin. He looked to the garden plot closest to him, his mother's favorite with the 'Child's Play' miniature roses still blooming in the early autumn weather. It wouldn't be long until the buds withered away and were covered in frost, then snow. “Mother adores her roses,” Casey said, running a fingertip over one particularly round, large bloom. “Roses and daisies. That was her bride's bouquet.”
“They're very pretty,” Ezekiel said; he was back to chewing as he shuffled over to the bush. He cradled one rose in his palm, his fingers dusting around the edges. “Not many plants grew quite like this, where I'm from.”
“Well, these are cultivated and tended to almost every day. As I said, mother and her gardens... they'll never part,” Casey said. “I remember picking some for Leigh when we were children, and she'd been ill for a whole week. She told me the bouquet I'd given her were magic, because she felt better once they were by her bed. Ladies in general love flowers.”
“Don't men love flowers?” Ezekiel asked.
“Yes, but... not like women do. It's customary for a man to buy his lady flowers, especially if they'd had an argument. It's an instant, pretty apology,” Casey explained. “But the best time to give flowers, in my honest opinion, is for no reason at all. Father comes home with flowers often, just to show Mother that he loves her.”
“Hmm.” Ezekiel nodded as he inspected more of the buds and blooms.
“Casey?” Mrs. Connor called from the back of the house. Casey looked up to find her stepping out and waving him over. “Darling, I need your help in the parlor. The paper should be here soon, and after last night's festivities, the men left quite the mess.”
Casey smiled, got to his feet and went over. “Of course,” he said. The two went in, where Seamus was busy moving furniture while Dina dusted. Casey's job was basic tidying, cleaning ashtrays, wiping down tabletops and picking up forgotten snifters and other glasses from the men's frivolities. All the while, music played to make the work go by faster. 'In the Good Ol' Summertime' was sung-along to by Casey and Dina, who exchanged sweet smiles while crooning. Soon enough, the room was put into perfect order, cherry-wood surfaces gleaming, glass minatures and trinkets glittering and liquor cabinet organized for tonight's visitors. Casey set out a tray of glasses, stepped back and nodded. “Everything looks wonderful,” he said.
“Yes, I'd say we're ready... thank you,” Mrs. Connor told them all, then turned to Seamus. “If you would go into town for me and buy some rum, I'd appreciate it. I have a cake to make, and there's not a drop left.”
“Of course, Madam,” Seamus said with a cordial nod as he went to get his hat.
“Feel free in taking the ride in on Isobel, Seamus,” Casey told him. This made the man smile; he rather enjoyed horseback riding, and didn't get to do enough of it. Casey was glad to share. As Seamus left and jogged past the front of the house to the stables, Casey waved a hand toward the back. “I'll go get Ezekiel and help him get ready.”
“All right. Oh, no need,” Mrs. Connor said as Ezekiel arrived, walking in slowly with his hands behind his back, a sweet smile upon his lips. “The paper should be here any moment now, darling; go upstairs with Casey and get ready.”
Ezekiel nodded but instead of going to the stairs, he went over to Mrs. Connor. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.
The woman blinked furiously and made a small grin. “A... surprise?”
Casey's whole body went stiff in catching a glimpse behind Ezekiel's back. A rose peeked out from behind his jacket lapels; 'oh NO,' Casey thought. Why hadn't he warned him, “Never even THINK of plucking any flowers from Mother's garden, unless you want to give her the reds,”? This 'surprise' would be a surprise, indeed.
“Close your eyes,” Ezekiel instructed the woman, who did so; when he revealed his gift, Casey almost gasped. It wasn't a hastily put-together bouquet Ezekiel was holding, but an intricate lacing of roses, daisies, leaves and vines made into a perfect oval. It reminded Casey of the boutiques in London, where floral headdresses were featured in expensive shop windows. The gift was placed onto Mrs. Connor's head, which made the woman open her eyes and lift them up.
“What-what is it?” she asked. She put her hand up and touched it gingerly, then startled. “Oh-my-flowers?”
Ezekiel nodded as she took it off to look at it. Despite its well-crafted beauty, it was still made up with her garden's hard work. Before Casey could worry for Ezekiel's well-being, a smile exploded onto his mother's face. “Ezekiel! It's absolutely stunning!” she exclaimed. She turned it slowly to look upon every tight knot and braided vine, giving some of the leaves a little pull as if testing its strength. “People will pay VERY good money for work like this! It takes ages and so much experience... did you just make this out of nowhere??”
“It doesn't take much,” Ezekiel casually replied, even shrugging. “You like it?”
“Oh, but I do! Thank you.” With a happy smile, she placed it back upon her head. “I will wear it until it wilts!”
Ezekiel beamed with pride as she got on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. “I'm glad,” he said.
“Now hurry along and go look your best! Not a terribly hard feat,” Mrs. Connor said, adding a wink as she all but skipped off the the kitchen.
Casey approached in slow steps. “Did she just... flirt with you?”
“Flirt?” Ezekiel said.
“Ugh, never mind. Upstairs, Romeo,” Casey chuckled heartily as he turned Ezekiel by the shoulder and gave him a light shove toward the stairs. In hearing the light, happy squeals from the kitchen where his mother was surely showing off her gift to Dina, Casey couldn't help a little jealousy; it had been beautiful, and he desperately wished that it'd been HE who'd crafted it for her; a real, lovely gift that a mother would be so proud to get from her loving son.
~*~
With Casey going through every piece of clothing, right down to stockings and kerchiefs, Ezekiel wasn't just dapper, but dazzling. Casey put the finishing touches on with the green kerchief, matching the forest-green, silk weskit he wore and turned him towards the mirror. “Perfect. If I do say so myself,” Casey said.
Ezekiel cocked his head a bit to the side as he inspected himself. He put his fingers upon the tie and frowned at Casey. “You said you can't make ties... make them right,” he said. “This is fine.”
“No, I can do it for other people, just not myself. I'm going with a nice silk scarf for the picture-taking,” Casey said as he went through the door to his room. Ezekiel followed, fussing over the cufflinks of his shirt. While Casey rummaged around in the drawer where he kept accessories, he glanced to Ezekiel and smiled. “I'm sure that once the story is published and Uncle Bart's party passes, things will calm down. The novelty will wear off, letting you enter society as the English gentleman you already are.”
“Hmm,” Ezekiel hummed as he approached; he reached into the drawer and felt around. “Silks are nice.”
“Yes, isn't it? I have a pajama set of silk; rarely wear it. It's too... nice,” Casey said. “It's supposed to be a given for young men, but I sometimes feel silly in it.”
Ezekiel nodded a little then pulled out Casey's golden-yellow scarf. It shimmered in the sun, entrancing Ezekiel with its color and shine. “This is like the sun,” he said.
“It looks best with my dark brown suit,” Casey said. “A little like... the sunrise, meeting earth.”
“Mmm,” Ezekiel hummed again then brought the silk to his cheek. Casey watched as he nuzzled it, soft sighs escaping the young man's lips. With a smile, Casey chose his red scarf, which went well with his charcoal-gray suit.
“'Wonder what you'd do with silk sheets,” Casey said, winking. “I'd never be able to get you out of bed, with that.”
The yellow silk was put back in the drawer, Ezekiel folding it in with the others carefully. Casey picked up his matching weskit, slipped it over himself and buttoned, keeping his eyes on Ezekiel as he did. “Now, when they arrive-if they're like most journalists out there, they'll be excitable and a bit overbearing. Nice enough, just... overzealous, for your story,” Casey explained. “They'll ask you many questions. If you need help or don't understand them, don't be shy in turning to me or Father for help. All right?”
“Yes, all right,” Ezekiel said. Casey smoothed the silk weskit over himself quickly then grabbed his jacket; it was then he heard a light chuckling from Ezekiel; his eyes were on Casey's chest. The boy frowned and asked, “What?”
“You dressed me with such expertise... while you...” Ezekiel walked over and poked at the buttons of the weskit; looking down, Casey realized that he'd buttoned himself up all wrong, the top button going into the second hole and the same on down with the others. Casey burst into a chuckle-fit himself.
“Oh, ridiculous...”
“Here,” Ezekiel said, pushing Casey's jacket open and going to work on the buttons. He glanced up to give Casey a smile. “My turn, to help.”
Casey blinked furiously then beamed at the boy. It was only fair, of course, this turn-around of whom was to help whom. Though Ezekiel was nowhere near an expert on dressing himself just yet, his fingers worked slowly but surely, putting things to rights. Casey swallowed as those fingers went lower to fix the askew-situation at his belly. Small touches and brushes were made there, Casey feeling it plainly through the weskit and shirt. Finally, the fixing was done and Ezekiel gave Casey's chest a patting. “There,” he said. His eyes rose to look into Casey's, his smile made of sweet, honeyed sunshine-much more beautiful and warm than the sun-colored silk, or the sun itself. There was a flicker of something odd in the beautiful brown eyes; Casey stood still as Ezekiel put their foreheads together and nuzzled... You are my friend. Casey bit his smile and gave Ezekiel's shoulder a squeeze.
“Yes. We're friends,” he said, just as Ezekiel turned his lips to Casey's cheek and kissed it.
“A kiss,” he said plainly before standing straight again.
Casey's skin tingled with wild desire and heat. The sweet, personal expression far exceeded how Charlie's kisses made Casey feel. “Yes, a kiss. Come, let's go downstairs,” he said in a soft, nervous voice, somehow managing a smile as he left the room, Ezekiel following.
Casey was glad to find a tray of crackers, cheese, vegetables and other light snacks sitting out on the parlor's table, along with a bucket of ice. A gimlet would go down nice about now; he decided to break out the gin and chilled lime juice. Turning to Ezekiel, he said, “I'd offer you a cocktail, but maybe you'd like juice better, eh?”
“Cocktail?”
“Yes. A cocktail.”
Ezekiel's brow creased to show a mix of confusion and astonishment. “Cock... tail?”
“Yes, I said-oh! Oh wait, wait, no...” Casey, flustered, put the opened bottle of gin down before he dropped it. “A mixed drink! Some alcohol, juice, ice... not...”
Ezekiel's frown faded, replaced with wide, blinking eyes. “If that is a 'cocktail', what does one call sex?”
A deep quake ran through Casey's body; before he could answer, the doorbell rang, loud and long. Seamus, giving a quick straightening of his jacket, rushed past the entrance of the parlor to the front of the house to answer it. With Ezekiel still looking hopelessly curious, Casey leaned in quick, hissed, “Just intercourse-later!” and stood back to recover a gracious smile, ready for anything. Mr. Connor rushed over to the door now, as well, all to greet their guests.
They were already boisterous. A string of chatter filled the air, along with metallic bumping-about. “Mr. Frank Connor! Herbert Crewell, head reporter of the Daily Mail; it is grand to meet you and your family!”
“We're glad to have you,” Mr. Connor said. “If you gentlemen would go to our parlor, you may get comfortable with some food and drink.”
Casey stiffened as two men carrying camera equipment entered, while Herbert himself followed them in. All three of them looked to Casey and Ezekiel-stared. Ezekiel's brow twitched a little when Herbert, “Ahh!”-ed and approached him, hand extended. “Master Ezekiel Tyler, I presume; what an honor it is to get your story,” he said.
Looking unsure, Ezekiel made a quick nod and shook Herbert's hand. “A pleasure to... make your acquaintance,” he said.
“What manners, already! You've been taught well!” Herbert said. “My men shall set up the camera; let us grab a bite to eat and chat.”
Casey took to the sidelines while still sticking close to Ezekiel, who ambled over to the light lunch prepared for them. As Herbert blathered away while gathering up a few crackers and carrots, Mr. Connor emerged with a bottle of wine. “Gentlemen, if you're able to enjoy a glass while on the clock?” he said while opening it.
“Ah, of course; one glass won't hurt,” Herbert said. He turned to his two helpers. “Go on, Davy, Daniel.”
The eager-looking men smiled and went over to get a glass. Ezekiel bit his lip and picked up a plate, then suddenly frowned. Turning to Casey, he asked, “What... is that smell?”
Not 'smell' again. “It's-is it the wine?” Casey motioned to the pouring going on.
“No, it's... what is that?”
Casey looked down to where Ezekiel pointed. “Oh! That's cheese, you haven't tried it yet?”
“What is cheese?” Ezekiel asked.
“I'm surprised; we're quite fond of it.” Casey scanned the selection, finally choosing a piece of Camembert. “Here, try--”
Casey was stopped dead at Ezekiel's sudden loud, angry-sounding sniff and quick jump back. “It's disgusting,” he said in a scoff. “What is it MADE of?”
A nervous glance was made Herbert's way; Casey found the man scrawling notes in his pad, his face emoting deep interest in this scene. “It's... milk,” Casey recovered to say. “With some acids and... curdling. I think.”
“Curdling means 'bad'. This is bad food,” Ezekiel all but declared.
“No, it's just a process--”
“Is there a problem?” Dina, arriving now with a tray of MORE cheese, asked as she set it down. Ezekiel shrank away, staring at the cheeses as if they were about to jump up and bite him repeatedly.
“He-um, he doesn't like cheese,” was all Casey could reply with.
“Can you... can you take it away?” Ezekiel asked the servant. She blinked wildly and looked to Mr. Connor, who watched on with concern.
“What's wrong?” the man asked.
“'E's not fond of cheese?” Dina said. “Is it a'right if I bring it back to the kitchen?”
“Oh. Yes, um, go ahead. Are... you all right, Ezekiel?” Mr. Connor asked.
“Yes. Sorry. It just...” Ezekiel drifted off and bit his lip, looking nervous. Though Casey was thoroughly confused with the strange, strong reaction, he smiled and patted his arm.
“It's all right. I suppose I'm the same way when it comes to spinach,” he jovially replied. He was pleased to see the tension in Ezekiel's face disappear, replaced with a small smile as they finished filling their plates.
Herbert, even with his being imposing as he was, quickly devoured the piece of cheese he'd taken instead of insisting Ezekiel be around it. Now at the chairs and couches, the men sat with their snacks and began talking together, Herbert going first, of course. “So, this startling discovery, a man grown wild; Mr. Connor, how DID you find Wandsworth's lost son?”
“Well, I was on my expedition, searching the jungles in the country of Namibia,” he said. Before he could continue, Herbert held up a finger.
“Hold on; what country is this?”
“Namibia, in the continent of Africa.”
“Oh! Hah, and here I'd always thought Africa WAS a country! Fancy that.”
This was going to be a long, arduous afternoon...
~*~
“Amazing. Simply extraordinary,” Herbert said as he put the finishing touches on his many pages of notes. Casey held the yawn threatening his face down, not wanting to look rude. Needing something besides the conversation and light scritch-scratch of lead on paper, he stood with a smile.
“I shall put some music on. Any preferences?” he asked.
“Ah, the phonograph! Yes, Master Casey; do you have any Ragtime?” Herbert said.
“Of course. Joplin?” Casey asked. The man smiled wide and nodded. 'Maple Leaf Rag' it was; Casey went over to the shelf, chose the cylinder and slipped it into the player. When he turned back around, he found that Davy and Daniel had put the camera to rights, ready-to-shoot. Shoot. Casey's eyes fell on the large flashbulb and scrutinized it.
“Are we ready, then?” Herbert asked. At Davy's nod, he clapped his hands together loudly. “Good, good. Mr. Connor, if you and Ezekiel will--”
“Er, one moment...” Casey interrupted the man to go to his father and lean in, asking, “Father, the flash-would it resemble anything unpleasant to Ezekiel?”
“How do you mean?”
“During the interview, Ezekiel described a fight between a group of hunters, how he'd almost taken a gun-blast to the face,” Casey said.
Realization sank in, shown in Mr. Connor's expression. He stood straight and looked over to the photographers. “Excuse me, gentleman; before we begin, I must explain a few things to Master Ezekiel.”
Casey breathed a sigh of relief as the three men nodded and continued re-checking the camera and its settings. He went over to Ezekiel, who was in deep, hushed conversation with Mr. Connor. “--Will be jarring, both loud and bright, but harmless. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Ezekiel replied.
“Casey and I are right here, and we can stop if it gets too uncomfortable for you, so no worries,” Mr. Connor said. Giving the boy a pat to the shoulder, he stood straight and turned back to the men. “All right then; we're ready.”
“Good! Ezekiel, my lad, go on and stand up next to that nice chair; Mr. Connor, if you'll have a seat?”
Casey watched with interest as the scene was set, with Ezekiel standing next to the chair, just a bit to the back, while Mr. Connor sat up straight in the lounge chair. Davy cleared his throat, hopped over and took Ezekiel's wrist. Though a quick snarl passed through Ezekiel's lip, he allowed the young man to move his hand to Mr. Connor's shoulder. When he fussed over Ezekiel's collar, however, the snarl came back and stayed. “Um, Mr.... Davy, that's fine,” Casey spoke up. Davy flicked a glance his way before giving Ezekiel's tie one last tug.
“Just makin' 'im perfect,” Davy said before scampering back to the camera.
'He IS perfect,' Casey thought with some force, surprising himself. He made a quick glance to Ezekiel, who shifted feet and stared ahead. After what seemed like an eternity, Davy slipped underneath the small black curtain of the camera, Daniel held up the flash and said, “Say 'cheese'!”
“No, wait--” Casey piped up, even raising his hand, but it was too late. Ezekiel made an ugly grimace just as the flash went off, no doubt with the command to say 'cheese'. But the moment the crack-snap-flash entered the room, the grimace deepened further and Ezekiel turned away fast. Mr. Connor snapped his head up then took Ezekiel's wrist.
“Are you all right, Son?” he asked. A small pause followed before Ezekiel nodded and turned in halted jerks.
“Why 'cheese'?” he asked.
Casey would've laughed if he wasn't so concerned. “Father, maybe-it's too much,” he said.
“No. No, I'll be all right,” Ezekiel said. His expression calmed and he stood straight again. “Just-wasn't expecting it to be THAT loud and bright, is all.”
“Well, no worries. We won't use THAT shot!” Herbert said with a chortle.
As they prepared for another, better shot, Casey stood straighter and watched Ezekiel with a careful eye. The young man flicked his eyes over to Casey, face blank; Casey gave him a quick, sweet smile, as if to say, 'I'm right here,' and Ezekiel returned one before turning back to stand straight, even out his expression and...
He didn't even flinch this time around. Going by how he looked, strong, tall, even stately, Casey wondered just how many young, eager girls would be snipping the picture from Friday's issue and keeping it in their diaries.
Banner by aliensouldream
Title: Ezekiel's Way--5
Pairing/Characters: No pairing yet, OMCs, "Ezekiel", Connor-fam
Rating: light NC-17
Genre: AU period-piece, circa 1905
Author's Note: For my sweetheart, verangel, a lovely friend and confidant. :)
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey fights to help Ezekiel acclimate to his 'new world'.
Previous Parts
The boys' mood was noticed straightaway the next morning when they sat at the breakfast table. As they giggled into their seats, Dina went over to pour their tea for them, a small smile on her face. “Right side of the bed this morn, eh?” she asked.
“We were just laughing over the dream I'd had,” Casey said, his speech dotted with more chuckles. “All I'll say is that it involved a cake, large enough to leap upon as if it was a trampoline.”
“Ah, what an adventure.” Mr. Connor grinned over the rim of his coffee-cup. “Sad to say, I never remember my dreams. Perhaps nothing of note happens in them.”
“I was thinking about baking a cake for dessert tonight. An honest-to-goodness, rum-spiced cake,” Mrs. Connor said. Casey's eyes widened with delight.
“Oh, will you?”
“Why not? I'm sure Dina would appreciate some company in the kitchen,” Mrs. Connor said, looking to their servant with a smile. Dina winked her way.
“Ah, too true,” she said.
The platters of breakfast fare were passed between them, each member of the family taking their share while chit-chatting about not much at all. When the waffles reached Ezekiel, the young man paused to stare at them with intense scrutiny. He brought a finger up with what looked to be great caution then poked into one of the holes; Casey chuckled, plucked the waffle with his fork and placed it onto Ezekiel's plate. “It's almost like... a hard, crispier cake. A waffle,” he told the confused-looking boy.
“Make sure it has plenty of syrup.” Mr. Connor passed the small jug of the maple syrup to him.
“Maybe Casey should pour it for him...?” Mrs. Connor quickly-and very wisely, suggested. Casey had to laugh yet again in picturing Ezekiel pouring the sweet sap all over the plate, table and rug.
“Here.” Casey upended the jug to let a long line drizzle over the waffle, until it looked just right. Next came a pat of butter, placed into the largest pool of heated syrup. “It's delicious, go on.”
Ezekiel made a sniff then dipped his finger into a dot of the sticky mess to taste. The moment he gave his fingertip a light suck, his eyes lit up and blinked wildly. “Yes. Syrup,” he said before immediately grabbing his fork to tuck in.
“Erm...” Mrs. Connor watched with slight concern as the young man cut, stabbed, devoured, cut, stabbed, devoured, fast and constant. Each piece he took off grew in size with every bite. “Ezekiel, sweetheart, don't choke on it. There's plenty more.”
“He has a thing for sweets, I've noticed. He rather enjoyed Dina's cream puffs yesterday,” Mr. Connor remarked with a smile.
“Have you ever had anything sweet, besides fruit?” Casey asked him. Ezekiel finally paused between bites to look at him and nod.
“There were hives; I'd often stolen myself a handful of honey,” Ezekiel replied.
“Oh! But-bees, the stinging!” Mrs. Connor said.
“If you were not careful...” Ezekiel gave her a cocky grin. “I was only attacked once. Stung ALL over. My Aurugah mother set me out at a riverbed, covered in mud.”
“Erm, that-has to do with bee stings how?” Casey asked with a small guffaw.
“That must have helped, actually; I can see it,” Mrs. Connor said, nodding with understanding as she looked to Casey. “Remember when you got stung by that hornet, when you were very little? A baking soda paste did the trick.”
Casey DID remember-not that fondly, of course. His mother had calmed him with the mixture and silly songs, ones made up on-the-fly that made him laugh. “So mud would help too, eh?” he said.
“It did. Sometimes I'd go down to the river and cover myself for no reason. Felt very nice on dry days,” Ezekiel said.
“There are spa-retreats I've seen that use mud. Quite expensive mud,” Mr. Connor said. “Perhaps running to a riverbed would be cheaper.”
Playful chatter continued, with Ezekiel devouring waffle after waffle, ignoring all else besides the cherry juice and one sausage link. Once finished, Casey backed away from the table and wiped his lips with his napkin. “That was delicious,” he said when Dina walked into the room to give refills of tea and coffee. “Thank you, Dina.”
“You're very welcome, Master Casey,” she said.
“I'm sure Ezekiel would say 'thank you' as well, if he'd stop to breathe at any point,” Casey said, giving Ezekiel a small jab with his elbow.
~*~
Another lovely day was in store for Wandsworth. The sun beat down with enough warmth to make their clothing light, while the soft breezes kept Casey and Ezekiel comfortably cool as they walked down the pebbled road together. “You haven't had sweets until you've had candies from Penelope's shop,” Casey told Ezekiel, who had paused to snap a large branch off of a fallen limb. He poked the ground with it, took off some stray leaves then nodded.
“A good walking stick,” he said as he continued on with Casey, striding with the stick leading the way.
“Yes. Any-way, father gave us enough coin to get bushels of sweets. And the fudge? Oh, to die for,” Casey said.
“What is fudge?”
“You like chocolate, right?” Casey asked. At Ezekiel's nod, Casey grinned from ear-to-ear. “Then you will want to marry fudge.”
Ezekiel chuckled and shrugged. “Then I will have to eat my weight in it.”
“And it comes in so many flavors. Chocolate, chocolate-mint, maple walnut... oh, but you'll love that,” Casey said with rampant chuckling. “See? So many positives in our country--”
A sudden loud honk! came from behind, startling them both, but especially Ezekiel. The young man whirled around and his eyes widened at the sight coming toward them. “It's one of those-things,” he said.
“Ugh, yes. An automobile. Wonderful,” Casey said, and he only grew more displeased when he saw the sleek, metallic beast's occupants. “Of course...”
“Casey!” Geoff Martins, Wandsworth's most infamous braggart and wealthiest son pulled up close to the two boys. His friend-or lackey, really, as most people saw him, Carlton Winthrop, short and stout, sat in the passenger side with a big grin. “How are you this fine day?”
“Very well, thank you; yourself?” Casey replied.
“All is right and fine with the world-cor!” Geoff all but leapt from his seat in his looking to Ezekiel. “The savage hisself!”
Casey almost scowled; he glanced to Ezekiel, who was staring on with great caution. “His name is Ezekiel Tyler,” Casey said. “Ezekiel, this is Geoff Martins and Carlton Winthrop.”
“The jungle brute! How is he fancying our great country, eh?” Carlton asked with a guffaw.
“He fancies it fine; and as you can tell, he's standing directly next to me, capable of hearing any questions you wish to ask him,” Casey said with an overly-sweet smile.
“Aye, but whether he can reply is the issue. I suppose I can muster up a few 'ooh-ooh-ahh-ahh's to communicate, if I have to,” Geoff joked, making his companion snigger along.
“'G' is for Geoff,” Ezekiel finally found his voice to say.
“Ah! Good, good! I cannot wait until your first published work--”
“And grandstanding. Goat. Garish. Gall...”
Casey sucked in his smile as Ezekiel, putting on his best innocent look, listed not-so-favorable words. Geoff made a smirk and raised his eyebrows. “Well, if you boys would like a ride into town, there's plenty of room in the backseat,” he said.
“A kind offer, but no, thank you. We're rather enjoying our stroll,” Casey said. “We're only making one stop, at Penny's.”
“Well, we'll meet you there! We have a hankering for fudge ourselves. Cheerio!”
Carlton waved them off as Geoff put the car back into gear and rumbled down the road. The dust and smell they left behind made both Casey and Ezekiel grimace and wave their hands in front of their faces. “You forgot 'gracious',” Casey told Ezekiel.
“On purpose,” Ezekiel replied.
Both of them shared a chuckle, until Casey sighed and shook his head. “I apologize for their brutish behavior, Ezekiel. Those two louts aren't known for their manners or general kindness,” he said.
“There are always a few bad eggs,” Ezekiel said. “I... got that right, right?”
“Oh, yes. Very right,” Casey said.
“Even back in my homeland, we'd get a few brutes that thought they were the best of us all. When it came down to growling it out, they'd eventually lose.”
“Growling? That's how you'd settle disputes?”
“A precursor to fighting. If they gave up and shrank away after the growling, no blood would be shed.”
Casey's curiosity piqued. “I wonder if you would've made those two wet themselves with that.”
Ezekiel sighed, shrugged then looked to Casey. His lips parted as if he were about to speak when suddenly, he jerked forward inches from Casey's face, snarled his lip and let out the gruffest, gut-shuddering growl Casey had ever heard, even more intimidating than the loud call he'd made from the treetops the day before. Casey jumped back, wide-eyed and shaken, but he recovered quickly to laugh in titters. “Scratch that, no wondering; Geoff would have driven them off the road to their deaths!”
“YOU do it,” Ezekiel said.
“Growl? Oh, certainly not.”
“Why not?”
“I can't growl. I can barely shout across the house to Mother.”
Ezekiel pish-ed and gave his chest a hearty slapping. “It comes from here; one big breath to fill your lungs, then let out like you'd breathed in a hive of bees,” he said. “It helps to think of something that angers you, of course.”
“Well, of course,” Casey said.
“Try it. Just once?”
Casey rolled his eyes but smiled. He paused in their walking to clear his throat; Ezekiel shook his head fast. “Don't do that, don't make room,” he said.
“Hush, you said 'try'.” Casey smiled, sighed again and puffed out his chest. 'Angry... something that angers you...' Their latest encounter was good enough fuel. As he imagined that blasted car careening off into oblivion from his animalistic, angry roaring, Casey opened his mouth wide and let out a loud, disorganized mix of yelling and coughing. Ezekiel made a skeptical expression.
“We'll... try again sometime.”
“I told you.”
It wasn't long before the pebbled road became wider and they reached the small village of shops, the church and town green. Despite the weather, not many were around; a child and her mother stood at the pond in the green, complete with a working fountain in the middle, feeding crackers to the squawking ducks swimming about. Ezekiel stared their way, smiling a little when the little girl yelped and jumped away from a large white goose who seemed to come out from nowhere to snatch her bag of crackers. “This is nice,” Ezekiel said.
“Mmm, it's comfortable. We're close to the city, but not TOO close,” Casey replied.
“Where's the...” Ezekiel went to ask something, but stopped and began sniffing the air intently. No mystery here; Casey let the sweet scents into his nostrils as well, sighing with pleasure.
“Penny's made the first fudge of the day, all right,” he said. He nodded to the shop, just two doors down. “Right over here.”
Ezekiel walked with purpose now until they were up the set of two stone steps and walking in; the light tinkling of bells sounded their arrival; Ezekiel darted his eyes up to them and stared as they swayed, even reaching up to tap them. Casey smiled and tugged at his sleeve. “C'mon, then,” he said.
Now past the front of the shop, they entered the heart of candy-heaven. Casey slowed his steps to gaze into the baskets full of sugar treats, from gobstoppers to rock-candy. “Here,” Casey said, reaching into the stack of purple-colored rock candy sticks. He handed Ezekiel one and smiled. “I've actually made these myself, though nowhere near as well as Miss Penny does.”
Ezekiel turned the candy by its stick, eyebrows raised. “It looks... like glass,” he said.
“Yes, it does. Oh, Chickles...” Casey now dove to his right, seeing another favorite of his. No waiting here; he took up one of the small paper bags and scoop to fill it with the multicolored candies. “Wait until you've had a few of these. Just don't eat any until I've instructed you as to HOW they're eaten, all right?”
“Hah, sure...”
The dark floorboards creaked and cracked as they shuffled along, each potential purchase making them both stare away. Root beer barrels were Casey's next choice, while Ezekiel became entranced by licorice-laces. More and more small bags were being stuffed in Casey's arms, making him jog over to the shopping baskets. They needed the room.
“Mummy! I want the rosies!” a child's excited cry came from the next aisle. Both boys looked over, finding a young lad with his mother; the woman took a small tin down from the shelf and smiled. Casey smiled as well.
“The homemade treats are lovely... but they also carry imported candies,” he told Ezekiel as he led them over. Just as they rounded the end of the aisle, the little boy came shooting around toward them, excited about sweets and chattering as he smacked dead-on into Ezekiel. His tin of candies dropped from his hand, luckily staying together.
“Evan!” His mother cried, rushing over. She looked to Ezekiel and sighed with frustration. “I apologize for my son's blundering about.”
“That's... all right,” Ezekiel said.
“Evan, tell the nice man you're sorry,” she told the boy, who screwed up his face with a child's usual defiance.
“I'm sorry, Mistah,” he said.
Ezekiel smiled, patted him on the head and said, “No worries.” The mother, smiling gratefully, moved her boy along to the counter.
“Come on then, my little monkey...” she affectionately said; Ezekiel's eyebrows quirked up at this.
“Monkey?”
“It's a term of endearment; yet MORE positives,” Casey said. He reached the shelf full of fancy tins and sighed. “The boy had good taste. Rose pastilles, with an anise seed in the core. Delicious,” he said as he dropped two of the tins into the basket. “And... violet. Oh, yes...”
The bells in the front dinged again, followed by loud laughter. Casey didn't have to guess as to who had just walked in; didn't need to, as Geoff and Carlton came around the corner, heading their way. “Ah, ye made it!” Carlton said.
“Amazing, isn't it?” Casey said.
“Good lord, Casey. There's enough sweets in there to feed an... wait. You didn't,” Geoff said. Casey frowned.
“Didn't what?”
“Don't tell me our new friend brought an elephant home with him!”
Casey gave the pair a dry, bored look as they chortled away. “As always, your humor is impeccable,” he replied.
“Oh, we kid! Let us have a laugh, eh?” Carlton said.
“A laugh is fine, as long as it isn't at the expense of another,” Casey curtly replied. The boys ooh'ed.
“Can't take a joke? Come now...” Geoff turned to Ezekiel and smiled; it reminded Casey of an annoying, loud hyena's grin. “...I'm sure you DID ride elephants back where you're from, am I right?”
“Not... many in my area of the woods, no,” Ezekiel replied.
“No? Then what DID you ride, lions?”
Carlton's teasing made one corner of Ezekiel's lips turn up. “Dear me, no. Much too dangerous,” he said. “I've fought lions, however.”
“Ah... I'm positive,” Geoff said with a sarcastic nod. Ezekiel read it easily enough as he sighed, untucked one side of his shirt and lifted it along with the jacket to reveal the scarring. This seemed to shut the idiots' mouths as they stared, eyes wide at the markings.
“And I won. Though that should go without saying.”
Casey had to swallow down the raging laughter building up inside of him. 'That'll teach you both,' he thought as he patted Ezekiel's arm. “Cover yourself, Ezekiel. That's simply so improper,” he said in a snide, sarcastic tone. Again, Ezekiel saw the humor, nodded once and put the shirt back in order.
“Are we done?”
“Ah... fudge, remember?”
“Ooh...”
“Yes. Fudge,” Geoff said, tugging his friend over to the counter to join the boys. For the next small while, the four were preoccupied with gazing and smacking their lips at the trays of gorgeous, thick and aromatic confections. As predicted, Ezekiel chose a wedge of the maple-walnut flavor, while Casey made sure to make an assortment of all six flavors, “Just in case,” as he put it. Penny herself served them; when she realized who Ezekiel was, she almost dropped the wedge she was cutting for Geoff.
“Oy! You're-him!” she said. Geoff and Carlton watched on as the woman, curious but kind, asked how he was taking to his new home, if it was “All too diff'rent?” or “Have ye been into London yet? What sights!” Ezekiel replied cordially, smiling through the small conversation. At the end, she brought their fudges to the counter and grinned Casey's way. “He kin have his maple for free t'day.”
“Oh, really...”
“Eh! The lady o' the house's spoken.” She made a sweet, coy wink to Ezekiel, who bit his lip and grinned at the dark wooden counter full of their treats. Once a king's ransom had been handed over, Casey took up the large bag and nudged Ezekiel to the aisle with him.
“Thank you, Miss Penny-have a lovely day!” he called to her.
“You as well!”
Casey sighed away any remaining tension and walked through the door Ezekiel held open for him. “Thank you,” he said, getting a shrug and grunt as a reply. He walked them over to the bench by the road, which happened to sit in front of Geoff's auto. “I mean... they ARE a grand invention. I just hope they start teaching classes as to how to operate them. Geoff could use a few semesters in that.”
“Where does he live in town?” Ezekiel asked.
“Only a half-a-mile down the road from our house, then a turn to the right,” Casey replied. Ezekiel scoffed.
“What would be wrong with walking, then?”
“Why, Ezekiel-surely you jest.” Casey leaned in with a bright, wicked grin. “How would he be able to tout his privilege, letting this hunk of metal sit in the drive while he plods along like a commoner?”
This made Ezekiel snort, wink then sigh his way into the candy stash. The fudge was taken up first, of course. Ezekiel opened the box, pushed the wax paper aside and leaned down to breathe it in. “Remember... how you'd asked me not to complain anymore?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I'm not complaining.”
Casey tittered with joyful giggles, pulled a corner of the mint-chocolate fudge off and raised it. “A REAL toast to your 'coming home',” he said. Ezekiel smiled and followed suit, taking some maple-walnut up to Casey's fudge, tapping it lightly then bringing it to his hungry mouth.
“Oh,” he murmured as he rolled the confection around his tongue. “Yes. Yes.”
“You won't find fudge like this just anywhere,” Casey said. He paused to let the sugar and flavorings melt in his mouth, pooling into every corner and crevice. “And you mustn't eat it too fast. It's meant to be taken little by little. Save the gorging for waffles.”
Ezekiel chuckled and next tried the mint. He was skeptical, but upon getting a taste he expressed that its flavor closely resembled a leafy plant he'd eat after meals in his homeland. “It freshened your mouth,” he said, and Casey agreed.
“So, do you like it?”
Casey almost answered, “Of course!” but realized it wasn't Ezekiel asking the question. Instead, he watched as Geoff went to the auto, leaned upon the hood and patted it. “It's... nice,” he said.
“MORE than nice. We're talking of taking a trip to Southampton with it, come next summer,” Geoff said.
“That's quite a haul. Do you think it could handle it?” Casey asked. Geoff scoffed and chortled.
“Are you joking? Of COURSE it can, as long as you can get the petrol for it. Mighty expensive, but worth the price,” he said.
“No more crowded train cars for us,” Carlton said, now sidling up to Geoff with a goofy smile. Geoff gave him a sarcastic look.
“What is this 'us', wee lad?”
“Ah, come off it! You SAID I'd get a lift any time I like!”
“If ye cough up the petrol-money, 'course.”
As much as Casey disliked Carlton and his willingness to be Geoff's pitiful sidekick, he didn't like watching Geoff touting himself and his wealth. Carlton wasn't poor, but was in no way able to get his own automobile. Casey himself could, but felt no need for it. “It's a fad, plain and simple,” Mr. Connor had once said when an ad for autos appeared in the newspaper.
“Horses and the like, they're on their way out,” Geoff dismissively said. “It's high-time we came up with a more efficient way to travel. And boys, this... is it.”
Casey tried his best to look impressed as Geoff wiped his handkerchief over the sleek black metal hood. “Yes. It's delightful,” he said.
“It smells,” Ezekiel said. Geoff quirked an eyebrow at him.
“More than your family, back home? I somehow doubt that,” he said.
“Oh, they smelled; like earth, sweat and sometimes excrement,” Ezekiel boldly replied. “Natural enough.”
“Hah, yes, please have yourself a shit right here in the dirt so we can take in its most lovely aroma,” Geoff said.
“Watch your tongue,” Casey warned.
“He said it, I didn't. HE may leak, but this machine doesn't,” Geoff replied.
“It doesn't? But I just saw a leak, underneath,” Ezekiel said.
Geoff frowned, blinked and leaned down to look. “Where?”
Ezekiel groaned to a stand, took the front bumper and pulled it up. Casey expected the metal to break and crack apart... 'Not a lawsuit,' he thought with dread, but was suddenly taken aback as the entire car raised up off the ground a good four feet. It creaked and stopped when its back bumper touched the ground. Ezekiel strained his neck to look at the dirt below. “Oh. I'm sorry, it must have been a shadow.”
“MUMMY! He just lifted up the automobile!”
“Not now, dear... how much did you say these linens... pardon me, excuse me?”
Casey looked to the right, where Mr. Danbury's fabric shop sat. The man was staring their way, jaw dropped as his customer, too engrossed in his 'Out-of-Doors Sale!' fabric-purchasing, tried waving her hand in front of his face. Her daughter tugged at her dress, pointing their way. “Is true, Mummy, is true!” Meanwhile, both Geoff and Carlton gasped, gawked and stuttered as Ezekiel let the car down with ease, rubbed his hands together and sat down.
“Did'ye... see...”
“Shut your gob and get in the car!”
Shuddering laughter shook Casey's chest as Geoff shoved a stunned Carlton to the passenger side, while he scurried to the driver's. He pointed a finger at Ezekiel. “If there are any damages, I'll be sending you the repair bill!”
“There aren't any; it's in perfect shape, you were right,” Ezekiel coolly replied and waved.
The car was turned on and rumbled back; Carlton prattled on, asking, “Did ye see, how he'd--” getting an angry, “Shut! Up!” as a reply. As they finally zoomed away, Casey let out a loud, piercing laugh.
“Ezekiel! Th-That was-oh dear god in heaven!” he nearly screeched. Ezekiel sighed, broke off another wedge of maple-walnut fudge and shrugged.
“It wasn't much of a feat. It was quite light; cheaply made,” he said with a wink.
~*~
“Now... the most important rule here is don't swallow it.”
Ezekiel stared at the small handful of Chickles he held. “But it's candy.”
“I know. But it's a type of candy, very special,” Casey said. He leaned back on the grass and smiled wide. “Just chew it. You'll see. Try the green ones, those are my favorite; mint, like the fudge was.”
“All right.” Still looking suspicious, Ezekiel picked out three greens, popped them into his mouth and started chewing. His face screwed up in confusion as he kept at it. “It's not melting, like the spice drops.”
“No-that's why it's special. It's a candy you can enjoy all day,” Casey cheerfully replied.
Ezekiel's eyes fluttered madly as he stopped to take the green, sticky gum out of his mouth. He looked upon it, smacking his lips. “It's very odd,” he said.
“But don't you like it?”
“Yes. Just odd.”
Casey took a deep breath and went to his back, enjoying the feel of soft grass upon it. For a moment, he wished he was less inhibited and could simply throw off the shirt; however thin it was, he was sure grass felt better on bared skin. He looked to the garden plot closest to him, his mother's favorite with the 'Child's Play' miniature roses still blooming in the early autumn weather. It wouldn't be long until the buds withered away and were covered in frost, then snow. “Mother adores her roses,” Casey said, running a fingertip over one particularly round, large bloom. “Roses and daisies. That was her bride's bouquet.”
“They're very pretty,” Ezekiel said; he was back to chewing as he shuffled over to the bush. He cradled one rose in his palm, his fingers dusting around the edges. “Not many plants grew quite like this, where I'm from.”
“Well, these are cultivated and tended to almost every day. As I said, mother and her gardens... they'll never part,” Casey said. “I remember picking some for Leigh when we were children, and she'd been ill for a whole week. She told me the bouquet I'd given her were magic, because she felt better once they were by her bed. Ladies in general love flowers.”
“Don't men love flowers?” Ezekiel asked.
“Yes, but... not like women do. It's customary for a man to buy his lady flowers, especially if they'd had an argument. It's an instant, pretty apology,” Casey explained. “But the best time to give flowers, in my honest opinion, is for no reason at all. Father comes home with flowers often, just to show Mother that he loves her.”
“Hmm.” Ezekiel nodded as he inspected more of the buds and blooms.
“Casey?” Mrs. Connor called from the back of the house. Casey looked up to find her stepping out and waving him over. “Darling, I need your help in the parlor. The paper should be here soon, and after last night's festivities, the men left quite the mess.”
Casey smiled, got to his feet and went over. “Of course,” he said. The two went in, where Seamus was busy moving furniture while Dina dusted. Casey's job was basic tidying, cleaning ashtrays, wiping down tabletops and picking up forgotten snifters and other glasses from the men's frivolities. All the while, music played to make the work go by faster. 'In the Good Ol' Summertime' was sung-along to by Casey and Dina, who exchanged sweet smiles while crooning. Soon enough, the room was put into perfect order, cherry-wood surfaces gleaming, glass minatures and trinkets glittering and liquor cabinet organized for tonight's visitors. Casey set out a tray of glasses, stepped back and nodded. “Everything looks wonderful,” he said.
“Yes, I'd say we're ready... thank you,” Mrs. Connor told them all, then turned to Seamus. “If you would go into town for me and buy some rum, I'd appreciate it. I have a cake to make, and there's not a drop left.”
“Of course, Madam,” Seamus said with a cordial nod as he went to get his hat.
“Feel free in taking the ride in on Isobel, Seamus,” Casey told him. This made the man smile; he rather enjoyed horseback riding, and didn't get to do enough of it. Casey was glad to share. As Seamus left and jogged past the front of the house to the stables, Casey waved a hand toward the back. “I'll go get Ezekiel and help him get ready.”
“All right. Oh, no need,” Mrs. Connor said as Ezekiel arrived, walking in slowly with his hands behind his back, a sweet smile upon his lips. “The paper should be here any moment now, darling; go upstairs with Casey and get ready.”
Ezekiel nodded but instead of going to the stairs, he went over to Mrs. Connor. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.
The woman blinked furiously and made a small grin. “A... surprise?”
Casey's whole body went stiff in catching a glimpse behind Ezekiel's back. A rose peeked out from behind his jacket lapels; 'oh NO,' Casey thought. Why hadn't he warned him, “Never even THINK of plucking any flowers from Mother's garden, unless you want to give her the reds,”? This 'surprise' would be a surprise, indeed.
“Close your eyes,” Ezekiel instructed the woman, who did so; when he revealed his gift, Casey almost gasped. It wasn't a hastily put-together bouquet Ezekiel was holding, but an intricate lacing of roses, daisies, leaves and vines made into a perfect oval. It reminded Casey of the boutiques in London, where floral headdresses were featured in expensive shop windows. The gift was placed onto Mrs. Connor's head, which made the woman open her eyes and lift them up.
“What-what is it?” she asked. She put her hand up and touched it gingerly, then startled. “Oh-my-flowers?”
Ezekiel nodded as she took it off to look at it. Despite its well-crafted beauty, it was still made up with her garden's hard work. Before Casey could worry for Ezekiel's well-being, a smile exploded onto his mother's face. “Ezekiel! It's absolutely stunning!” she exclaimed. She turned it slowly to look upon every tight knot and braided vine, giving some of the leaves a little pull as if testing its strength. “People will pay VERY good money for work like this! It takes ages and so much experience... did you just make this out of nowhere??”
“It doesn't take much,” Ezekiel casually replied, even shrugging. “You like it?”
“Oh, but I do! Thank you.” With a happy smile, she placed it back upon her head. “I will wear it until it wilts!”
Ezekiel beamed with pride as she got on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. “I'm glad,” he said.
“Now hurry along and go look your best! Not a terribly hard feat,” Mrs. Connor said, adding a wink as she all but skipped off the the kitchen.
Casey approached in slow steps. “Did she just... flirt with you?”
“Flirt?” Ezekiel said.
“Ugh, never mind. Upstairs, Romeo,” Casey chuckled heartily as he turned Ezekiel by the shoulder and gave him a light shove toward the stairs. In hearing the light, happy squeals from the kitchen where his mother was surely showing off her gift to Dina, Casey couldn't help a little jealousy; it had been beautiful, and he desperately wished that it'd been HE who'd crafted it for her; a real, lovely gift that a mother would be so proud to get from her loving son.
~*~
With Casey going through every piece of clothing, right down to stockings and kerchiefs, Ezekiel wasn't just dapper, but dazzling. Casey put the finishing touches on with the green kerchief, matching the forest-green, silk weskit he wore and turned him towards the mirror. “Perfect. If I do say so myself,” Casey said.
Ezekiel cocked his head a bit to the side as he inspected himself. He put his fingers upon the tie and frowned at Casey. “You said you can't make ties... make them right,” he said. “This is fine.”
“No, I can do it for other people, just not myself. I'm going with a nice silk scarf for the picture-taking,” Casey said as he went through the door to his room. Ezekiel followed, fussing over the cufflinks of his shirt. While Casey rummaged around in the drawer where he kept accessories, he glanced to Ezekiel and smiled. “I'm sure that once the story is published and Uncle Bart's party passes, things will calm down. The novelty will wear off, letting you enter society as the English gentleman you already are.”
“Hmm,” Ezekiel hummed as he approached; he reached into the drawer and felt around. “Silks are nice.”
“Yes, isn't it? I have a pajama set of silk; rarely wear it. It's too... nice,” Casey said. “It's supposed to be a given for young men, but I sometimes feel silly in it.”
Ezekiel nodded a little then pulled out Casey's golden-yellow scarf. It shimmered in the sun, entrancing Ezekiel with its color and shine. “This is like the sun,” he said.
“It looks best with my dark brown suit,” Casey said. “A little like... the sunrise, meeting earth.”
“Mmm,” Ezekiel hummed again then brought the silk to his cheek. Casey watched as he nuzzled it, soft sighs escaping the young man's lips. With a smile, Casey chose his red scarf, which went well with his charcoal-gray suit.
“'Wonder what you'd do with silk sheets,” Casey said, winking. “I'd never be able to get you out of bed, with that.”
The yellow silk was put back in the drawer, Ezekiel folding it in with the others carefully. Casey picked up his matching weskit, slipped it over himself and buttoned, keeping his eyes on Ezekiel as he did. “Now, when they arrive-if they're like most journalists out there, they'll be excitable and a bit overbearing. Nice enough, just... overzealous, for your story,” Casey explained. “They'll ask you many questions. If you need help or don't understand them, don't be shy in turning to me or Father for help. All right?”
“Yes, all right,” Ezekiel said. Casey smoothed the silk weskit over himself quickly then grabbed his jacket; it was then he heard a light chuckling from Ezekiel; his eyes were on Casey's chest. The boy frowned and asked, “What?”
“You dressed me with such expertise... while you...” Ezekiel walked over and poked at the buttons of the weskit; looking down, Casey realized that he'd buttoned himself up all wrong, the top button going into the second hole and the same on down with the others. Casey burst into a chuckle-fit himself.
“Oh, ridiculous...”
“Here,” Ezekiel said, pushing Casey's jacket open and going to work on the buttons. He glanced up to give Casey a smile. “My turn, to help.”
Casey blinked furiously then beamed at the boy. It was only fair, of course, this turn-around of whom was to help whom. Though Ezekiel was nowhere near an expert on dressing himself just yet, his fingers worked slowly but surely, putting things to rights. Casey swallowed as those fingers went lower to fix the askew-situation at his belly. Small touches and brushes were made there, Casey feeling it plainly through the weskit and shirt. Finally, the fixing was done and Ezekiel gave Casey's chest a patting. “There,” he said. His eyes rose to look into Casey's, his smile made of sweet, honeyed sunshine-much more beautiful and warm than the sun-colored silk, or the sun itself. There was a flicker of something odd in the beautiful brown eyes; Casey stood still as Ezekiel put their foreheads together and nuzzled... You are my friend. Casey bit his smile and gave Ezekiel's shoulder a squeeze.
“Yes. We're friends,” he said, just as Ezekiel turned his lips to Casey's cheek and kissed it.
“A kiss,” he said plainly before standing straight again.
Casey's skin tingled with wild desire and heat. The sweet, personal expression far exceeded how Charlie's kisses made Casey feel. “Yes, a kiss. Come, let's go downstairs,” he said in a soft, nervous voice, somehow managing a smile as he left the room, Ezekiel following.
Casey was glad to find a tray of crackers, cheese, vegetables and other light snacks sitting out on the parlor's table, along with a bucket of ice. A gimlet would go down nice about now; he decided to break out the gin and chilled lime juice. Turning to Ezekiel, he said, “I'd offer you a cocktail, but maybe you'd like juice better, eh?”
“Cocktail?”
“Yes. A cocktail.”
Ezekiel's brow creased to show a mix of confusion and astonishment. “Cock... tail?”
“Yes, I said-oh! Oh wait, wait, no...” Casey, flustered, put the opened bottle of gin down before he dropped it. “A mixed drink! Some alcohol, juice, ice... not...”
Ezekiel's frown faded, replaced with wide, blinking eyes. “If that is a 'cocktail', what does one call sex?”
A deep quake ran through Casey's body; before he could answer, the doorbell rang, loud and long. Seamus, giving a quick straightening of his jacket, rushed past the entrance of the parlor to the front of the house to answer it. With Ezekiel still looking hopelessly curious, Casey leaned in quick, hissed, “Just intercourse-later!” and stood back to recover a gracious smile, ready for anything. Mr. Connor rushed over to the door now, as well, all to greet their guests.
They were already boisterous. A string of chatter filled the air, along with metallic bumping-about. “Mr. Frank Connor! Herbert Crewell, head reporter of the Daily Mail; it is grand to meet you and your family!”
“We're glad to have you,” Mr. Connor said. “If you gentlemen would go to our parlor, you may get comfortable with some food and drink.”
Casey stiffened as two men carrying camera equipment entered, while Herbert himself followed them in. All three of them looked to Casey and Ezekiel-stared. Ezekiel's brow twitched a little when Herbert, “Ahh!”-ed and approached him, hand extended. “Master Ezekiel Tyler, I presume; what an honor it is to get your story,” he said.
Looking unsure, Ezekiel made a quick nod and shook Herbert's hand. “A pleasure to... make your acquaintance,” he said.
“What manners, already! You've been taught well!” Herbert said. “My men shall set up the camera; let us grab a bite to eat and chat.”
Casey took to the sidelines while still sticking close to Ezekiel, who ambled over to the light lunch prepared for them. As Herbert blathered away while gathering up a few crackers and carrots, Mr. Connor emerged with a bottle of wine. “Gentlemen, if you're able to enjoy a glass while on the clock?” he said while opening it.
“Ah, of course; one glass won't hurt,” Herbert said. He turned to his two helpers. “Go on, Davy, Daniel.”
The eager-looking men smiled and went over to get a glass. Ezekiel bit his lip and picked up a plate, then suddenly frowned. Turning to Casey, he asked, “What... is that smell?”
Not 'smell' again. “It's-is it the wine?” Casey motioned to the pouring going on.
“No, it's... what is that?”
Casey looked down to where Ezekiel pointed. “Oh! That's cheese, you haven't tried it yet?”
“What is cheese?” Ezekiel asked.
“I'm surprised; we're quite fond of it.” Casey scanned the selection, finally choosing a piece of Camembert. “Here, try--”
Casey was stopped dead at Ezekiel's sudden loud, angry-sounding sniff and quick jump back. “It's disgusting,” he said in a scoff. “What is it MADE of?”
A nervous glance was made Herbert's way; Casey found the man scrawling notes in his pad, his face emoting deep interest in this scene. “It's... milk,” Casey recovered to say. “With some acids and... curdling. I think.”
“Curdling means 'bad'. This is bad food,” Ezekiel all but declared.
“No, it's just a process--”
“Is there a problem?” Dina, arriving now with a tray of MORE cheese, asked as she set it down. Ezekiel shrank away, staring at the cheeses as if they were about to jump up and bite him repeatedly.
“He-um, he doesn't like cheese,” was all Casey could reply with.
“Can you... can you take it away?” Ezekiel asked the servant. She blinked wildly and looked to Mr. Connor, who watched on with concern.
“What's wrong?” the man asked.
“'E's not fond of cheese?” Dina said. “Is it a'right if I bring it back to the kitchen?”
“Oh. Yes, um, go ahead. Are... you all right, Ezekiel?” Mr. Connor asked.
“Yes. Sorry. It just...” Ezekiel drifted off and bit his lip, looking nervous. Though Casey was thoroughly confused with the strange, strong reaction, he smiled and patted his arm.
“It's all right. I suppose I'm the same way when it comes to spinach,” he jovially replied. He was pleased to see the tension in Ezekiel's face disappear, replaced with a small smile as they finished filling their plates.
Herbert, even with his being imposing as he was, quickly devoured the piece of cheese he'd taken instead of insisting Ezekiel be around it. Now at the chairs and couches, the men sat with their snacks and began talking together, Herbert going first, of course. “So, this startling discovery, a man grown wild; Mr. Connor, how DID you find Wandsworth's lost son?”
“Well, I was on my expedition, searching the jungles in the country of Namibia,” he said. Before he could continue, Herbert held up a finger.
“Hold on; what country is this?”
“Namibia, in the continent of Africa.”
“Oh! Hah, and here I'd always thought Africa WAS a country! Fancy that.”
This was going to be a long, arduous afternoon...
~*~
“Amazing. Simply extraordinary,” Herbert said as he put the finishing touches on his many pages of notes. Casey held the yawn threatening his face down, not wanting to look rude. Needing something besides the conversation and light scritch-scratch of lead on paper, he stood with a smile.
“I shall put some music on. Any preferences?” he asked.
“Ah, the phonograph! Yes, Master Casey; do you have any Ragtime?” Herbert said.
“Of course. Joplin?” Casey asked. The man smiled wide and nodded. 'Maple Leaf Rag' it was; Casey went over to the shelf, chose the cylinder and slipped it into the player. When he turned back around, he found that Davy and Daniel had put the camera to rights, ready-to-shoot. Shoot. Casey's eyes fell on the large flashbulb and scrutinized it.
“Are we ready, then?” Herbert asked. At Davy's nod, he clapped his hands together loudly. “Good, good. Mr. Connor, if you and Ezekiel will--”
“Er, one moment...” Casey interrupted the man to go to his father and lean in, asking, “Father, the flash-would it resemble anything unpleasant to Ezekiel?”
“How do you mean?”
“During the interview, Ezekiel described a fight between a group of hunters, how he'd almost taken a gun-blast to the face,” Casey said.
Realization sank in, shown in Mr. Connor's expression. He stood straight and looked over to the photographers. “Excuse me, gentleman; before we begin, I must explain a few things to Master Ezekiel.”
Casey breathed a sigh of relief as the three men nodded and continued re-checking the camera and its settings. He went over to Ezekiel, who was in deep, hushed conversation with Mr. Connor. “--Will be jarring, both loud and bright, but harmless. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Ezekiel replied.
“Casey and I are right here, and we can stop if it gets too uncomfortable for you, so no worries,” Mr. Connor said. Giving the boy a pat to the shoulder, he stood straight and turned back to the men. “All right then; we're ready.”
“Good! Ezekiel, my lad, go on and stand up next to that nice chair; Mr. Connor, if you'll have a seat?”
Casey watched with interest as the scene was set, with Ezekiel standing next to the chair, just a bit to the back, while Mr. Connor sat up straight in the lounge chair. Davy cleared his throat, hopped over and took Ezekiel's wrist. Though a quick snarl passed through Ezekiel's lip, he allowed the young man to move his hand to Mr. Connor's shoulder. When he fussed over Ezekiel's collar, however, the snarl came back and stayed. “Um, Mr.... Davy, that's fine,” Casey spoke up. Davy flicked a glance his way before giving Ezekiel's tie one last tug.
“Just makin' 'im perfect,” Davy said before scampering back to the camera.
'He IS perfect,' Casey thought with some force, surprising himself. He made a quick glance to Ezekiel, who shifted feet and stared ahead. After what seemed like an eternity, Davy slipped underneath the small black curtain of the camera, Daniel held up the flash and said, “Say 'cheese'!”
“No, wait--” Casey piped up, even raising his hand, but it was too late. Ezekiel made an ugly grimace just as the flash went off, no doubt with the command to say 'cheese'. But the moment the crack-snap-flash entered the room, the grimace deepened further and Ezekiel turned away fast. Mr. Connor snapped his head up then took Ezekiel's wrist.
“Are you all right, Son?” he asked. A small pause followed before Ezekiel nodded and turned in halted jerks.
“Why 'cheese'?” he asked.
Casey would've laughed if he wasn't so concerned. “Father, maybe-it's too much,” he said.
“No. No, I'll be all right,” Ezekiel said. His expression calmed and he stood straight again. “Just-wasn't expecting it to be THAT loud and bright, is all.”
“Well, no worries. We won't use THAT shot!” Herbert said with a chortle.
As they prepared for another, better shot, Casey stood straighter and watched Ezekiel with a careful eye. The young man flicked his eyes over to Casey, face blank; Casey gave him a quick, sweet smile, as if to say, 'I'm right here,' and Ezekiel returned one before turning back to stand straight, even out his expression and...
He didn't even flinch this time around. Going by how he looked, strong, tall, even stately, Casey wondered just how many young, eager girls would be snipping the picture from Friday's issue and keeping it in their diaries.