pistachio, rhubarb and butter pecan with whipped cream
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: What Happened Next
Rating: G
Challenge: Rhubarb ‘My Treat’ #6: did I ever tell you about the time… (Lidia loves to hear her father’s stories), Pistachio #8: storytelling, Butter Pecan #9: bitter
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream
Wordcount: 986
Summary: Lidia Santos loves to hear her father’s stories. Camila Santos does not.
Notes: Too much fluff recently! This is how Jacob and Camila are just before the events of Timeless.
The sun had soaked deep into the stonework of the building during the day, meaning that even though it was now late evening there was still warmth to be found there. The sun had just about set in a brilliant spillage of entwined orange and lilac-the port town of Santa Isadora was on a rocky slope skittering down to the ocean, surrounded on every other side by lush Cuban farmlands.
With its Grecian architecture-the homes were low to the ground flat-topped-every single rooftop was home to a host of activities; some had washing out to dry, others had smaller crops and vegetables growing on the roof, and one of the roofs even hosted a coffee house. The Santos household’s rooftop, with a great wooden arch built to keep off the sun, was simply a place for the children to play-or for a meeting.
As Camila Santos perched on a bench, getting on with the sewing that she picked up daily working as the portside town’s sailor’s seamstress, needle flashing as it darted through flimsy fabric, her ten-year-old daughter was sat on the wall that surrounding the roof of their house, kicking up her bare feet excitedly and sending her rusty-red kirtle and cream-coloured chemise flapping. Her father was stood next to her-centre of attention as always.
“An’ then Prowse-determined little bugger he is, if you’ll mind me language-was ‘anging from the boon by one ‘and and aiming ‘is knife with the other! He’s a real chancer. Trust the wind to change just then, sendin’ him flinging across the deck like he was blasted from a cannon. Oh, ‘ow we laughed! Not that it stopped ‘im landing a knife on me. Right in the bloody ar- er, buttocks,” he corrected himself when Camila cleared her throat loudly.
She looked up from hew sewing and grimaced at the father of her child.
“He’s making it up, Lidia,” she said derisively, eyes darting back down to her work as she neatly drew the thread tight to close one of the many rips. “It’s not real.”
“It is!” Jacob Graham rebutted indignantly. “Yer believe me, don’t ‘ee, Liddy?”
“Yes, Papa,” his daughter replied faithfully. He smiled down at her and touched a calloused hand to her head, stroking her thick, dark curls. She looked far more like her mother than she looked like him-in fact, he saw hardly any of himself at all, with her dark Spanish looks and shiny black ringlets. However, Lidia had been gifted with plenty of his attitude and a lust for adventure that could not be quelled… no matter how hard Camila tried. “Did you throw him overboard?”
“O’course we did!” Jacob said enthusiastically. “It’s our tradition. He’d expect nothing less.”
“Lidia,” Camila suddenly said, “could you go and check on Rafaela for me, please? I think I hear her fussing.”
Lidia cocked her ear for any sound of her baby cousin, Uncle Gaspard’s daughter. They shared their home with Camila’s brother’s family; Gaspard and his wife Noélle, and their two daughters, Mireia and Rafaela. Gaspard was out on the farm as usual but would be back soon; Noélle had gone to greet him and taken young Mireia with her. Noélle went out every evening to walk Gaspard home again. It made Camila’s heart hurt.
“I don’t hear anything,” Lidia said, wanting to spend every possible second with her father before he sailed away again, but Camila raised her eyebrows and she quickly scampered downstairs, scuffling over the warm stones and vanishing down the steps into the belly of their home.
Jacob took a deep breath and then spun around to face his ex-lover. Throwing down her needlework, she stood up and folded her arms.
Since her dizzy teenhood, Camila Santos had matured considerably and had made several changes to her outlook on life. She would never, ever see Lidia as a mistake but she certainly saw Jacob Graham as a mistake. He grinned at her broadly now, just like he used to, but she wasn’t taken in by it any more.
“Will you stop filling her head with these silly stories?” she hissed, keeping her voice down and hoping Rafaela would keep her daughter occupied for a while.
“They’re true,” Jacob said weakly. “Why does no-one ever believe me?”
“All of this nonsense about knife-throwers and feuds and sea-battles… she’s flighty enough as it is, Jacob. She gets it from you.” Camila’s gaze moved to the sealine, glittering on the horizon. “She’s a farm girl yet she spends all day dreaming of the ocean! Not a day goes by when she doesn’t spend at least half an hour gazing out to sea, hoping to see you come sailing in.”
“There’s nothing wrong with yearnin’ for a bit of adventure, Cammy,” Jacob said brightly, trying to take her hands. She snatched them back, frustrated. “It’s exactly how ‘ee used to be an’ all!”
“Yes, until I realised that there are certain responsibilities adults have to take on in their lives,” she scowled. “It’s fine for you, Jacob! You just sail away, merry as ever, with your reckless attitude and carelessness, not even sparing a thought for your daughter at home. It breaks my heart to see her worshipping you like she does! Good God, you really are slime…”
Halfway through her tirade she had flipped into Spanish, but Jacob was used to that and spoke the language-he had to, being a pirate on the Spanish Main.
“Darlin’,” he said holding his hands out. “Do you…?”
He couldn’t finish because Lidia came bounding up the stairs at that point. Tucking a strand of hair behind one ear with a quick jerk of her arm, Camila seated herself once more and immersed herself in her sewing, refusing to meet her daughter’s gaze. Lidia leapt against her father and threw her arms around his waist.
“Papa! What happened next?”
Title: What Happened Next
Rating: G
Challenge: Rhubarb ‘My Treat’ #6: did I ever tell you about the time… (Lidia loves to hear her father’s stories), Pistachio #8: storytelling, Butter Pecan #9: bitter
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream
Wordcount: 986
Summary: Lidia Santos loves to hear her father’s stories. Camila Santos does not.
Notes: Too much fluff recently! This is how Jacob and Camila are just before the events of Timeless.
The sun had soaked deep into the stonework of the building during the day, meaning that even though it was now late evening there was still warmth to be found there. The sun had just about set in a brilliant spillage of entwined orange and lilac-the port town of Santa Isadora was on a rocky slope skittering down to the ocean, surrounded on every other side by lush Cuban farmlands.
With its Grecian architecture-the homes were low to the ground flat-topped-every single rooftop was home to a host of activities; some had washing out to dry, others had smaller crops and vegetables growing on the roof, and one of the roofs even hosted a coffee house. The Santos household’s rooftop, with a great wooden arch built to keep off the sun, was simply a place for the children to play-or for a meeting.
As Camila Santos perched on a bench, getting on with the sewing that she picked up daily working as the portside town’s sailor’s seamstress, needle flashing as it darted through flimsy fabric, her ten-year-old daughter was sat on the wall that surrounding the roof of their house, kicking up her bare feet excitedly and sending her rusty-red kirtle and cream-coloured chemise flapping. Her father was stood next to her-centre of attention as always.
“An’ then Prowse-determined little bugger he is, if you’ll mind me language-was ‘anging from the boon by one ‘and and aiming ‘is knife with the other! He’s a real chancer. Trust the wind to change just then, sendin’ him flinging across the deck like he was blasted from a cannon. Oh, ‘ow we laughed! Not that it stopped ‘im landing a knife on me. Right in the bloody ar- er, buttocks,” he corrected himself when Camila cleared her throat loudly.
She looked up from hew sewing and grimaced at the father of her child.
“He’s making it up, Lidia,” she said derisively, eyes darting back down to her work as she neatly drew the thread tight to close one of the many rips. “It’s not real.”
“It is!” Jacob Graham rebutted indignantly. “Yer believe me, don’t ‘ee, Liddy?”
“Yes, Papa,” his daughter replied faithfully. He smiled down at her and touched a calloused hand to her head, stroking her thick, dark curls. She looked far more like her mother than she looked like him-in fact, he saw hardly any of himself at all, with her dark Spanish looks and shiny black ringlets. However, Lidia had been gifted with plenty of his attitude and a lust for adventure that could not be quelled… no matter how hard Camila tried. “Did you throw him overboard?”
“O’course we did!” Jacob said enthusiastically. “It’s our tradition. He’d expect nothing less.”
“Lidia,” Camila suddenly said, “could you go and check on Rafaela for me, please? I think I hear her fussing.”
Lidia cocked her ear for any sound of her baby cousin, Uncle Gaspard’s daughter. They shared their home with Camila’s brother’s family; Gaspard and his wife Noélle, and their two daughters, Mireia and Rafaela. Gaspard was out on the farm as usual but would be back soon; Noélle had gone to greet him and taken young Mireia with her. Noélle went out every evening to walk Gaspard home again. It made Camila’s heart hurt.
“I don’t hear anything,” Lidia said, wanting to spend every possible second with her father before he sailed away again, but Camila raised her eyebrows and she quickly scampered downstairs, scuffling over the warm stones and vanishing down the steps into the belly of their home.
Jacob took a deep breath and then spun around to face his ex-lover. Throwing down her needlework, she stood up and folded her arms.
Since her dizzy teenhood, Camila Santos had matured considerably and had made several changes to her outlook on life. She would never, ever see Lidia as a mistake but she certainly saw Jacob Graham as a mistake. He grinned at her broadly now, just like he used to, but she wasn’t taken in by it any more.
“Will you stop filling her head with these silly stories?” she hissed, keeping her voice down and hoping Rafaela would keep her daughter occupied for a while.
“They’re true,” Jacob said weakly. “Why does no-one ever believe me?”
“All of this nonsense about knife-throwers and feuds and sea-battles… she’s flighty enough as it is, Jacob. She gets it from you.” Camila’s gaze moved to the sealine, glittering on the horizon. “She’s a farm girl yet she spends all day dreaming of the ocean! Not a day goes by when she doesn’t spend at least half an hour gazing out to sea, hoping to see you come sailing in.”
“There’s nothing wrong with yearnin’ for a bit of adventure, Cammy,” Jacob said brightly, trying to take her hands. She snatched them back, frustrated. “It’s exactly how ‘ee used to be an’ all!”
“Yes, until I realised that there are certain responsibilities adults have to take on in their lives,” she scowled. “It’s fine for you, Jacob! You just sail away, merry as ever, with your reckless attitude and carelessness, not even sparing a thought for your daughter at home. It breaks my heart to see her worshipping you like she does! Good God, you really are slime…”
Halfway through her tirade she had flipped into Spanish, but Jacob was used to that and spoke the language-he had to, being a pirate on the Spanish Main.
“Darlin’,” he said holding his hands out. “Do you…?”
He couldn’t finish because Lidia came bounding up the stairs at that point. Tucking a strand of hair behind one ear with a quick jerk of her arm, Camila seated herself once more and immersed herself in her sewing, refusing to meet her daughter’s gaze. Lidia leapt against her father and threw her arms around his waist.
“Papa! What happened next?”