butter pecan, pistachio and flavour of the day with butterscotch and fresh peaches
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Trouble
Rating: G
Challenge: Pistachio #24: retreat, Butter Pecan #30: dizzy, FOTD: fain
Toppings/Extras: butterscotch, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 736
Summary: Jacob Graham should not have come to visit Camila Santos.
Notes: Aw, nineteen-year-old Jacob. Before he was a captain and he was a full-time blunderer. XD Fain: Gladly; willingly. Desirous; eager. Fresh peaches-- The Moon moves into dramatic Leo tonight, increasing your desire for excitement. An opposition to Mars could bring confrontations with others. Emotions may run high as you navigate this potentially tricky aspect. Finding a balance between your needs and those of friends and community will ease tensions and calm emotions.
“Ay, pirate, get out of here!”
Camila Santos twisted her neck around to see her brother appearing over the grassy verge at the top of the hillside and in front of her, Jacob Graham’s eyes widened.
“Trouble,” he said, which made her giggle despite the situation. After pressing his lips briefly to hers-they were warm and made her stomach flip, not that she’d admit this-he added, “I’ll see you again.”
“When?” she asked. Her brother was running now.
“Before the baby’s born,” Jacob replied, which was as close as he could ever get. Camila bit her lip and watched him turn and run for dear life down the hill, jumping tufts of yellowish Cuban grass entirely and tripping on rocks. Her hand moved over her pregnant belly, now fairly large and clearly noticeable.
Time passed too quickly before her brother arrived. She turned to him, already putting on her practised guilty face.
“Camila,” he hissed, leaning towards her-but he wouldn’t lay a finger on her, she knew. “I told you to stop seeing him!”
“I’m sorry,” she replied in their home tongue now that her lover was gone. She laced her fingers together and looked at them instead of her brother’s bright, concerned eyes. She hated to make him angry. “He came to find me.”
“It doesn’t matter! You should not have come here with him!”
“It’s his baby,” Camila said, putting her hand on her stomach.
“I know,” Gaspard Santos snapped in response, running his hands through his dark hair. It was cropped short and his skin was dark and leathery from endless toil on the farm. The sleepy port town of Santa Isadora seemed far away, over the hillock of her brother’s farmlands, but she knew that eyes and ears were everywhere. She bit her lip in shame. “I have worked so hard to get here, Camila, so hard. If people find out you are carrying the baby of a heathen Englishman pirate, I don’t know what I would… it would ruin…”
He seemed scarcely able to continue.
“He wants to know the baby,” Camila said. “That’s all. Doesn’t he deserve it?”
“As far as everyone in this town is concerned, the father is dead,” Gaspard said, lowering his voice despite the fact that the two of them were far from any lurking townspeople. “Not running like a little girl for the port!”
To illustrate his point, he jabbed a finger down towards the waning figure of Jacob Graham. As they both turned to look, he tripped and plunged away down the grassy verge, cartwheeling and disappearing from view. They saw him rise a moment later to leap over a rickety wooden fence. Gaspard frowned.
“If he steps on any of my tobacco plants…!”
“When the baby is born,” Camila continued, bringing his attention back to more important matters, “please… he must be allowed to see it. His child!”
“Maybe when I am more established in the business, Camila,” Gaspard said with a loud sigh. The guilt was instant; the moment that slightly reproachful look crossed his face it budded relentlessly in her stomach. He was housing her, feeding her, saving her from the scorn of their parents-oh, she tried to help on the farm, but with her pregnancy moving onwards she was becoming increasingly more useless.
“And then…?”
A passing zephyr sighed across her skirts, sending them fluttering. The sea roared beneath them, vivid green-blue, and field upon field of crops flourished around them. It was hard for Camila to understand how one man could change so much. Frustrated but resigned to it, Gaspard sighed.
“And what happens after the baby is born? You get pregnant again?”
“Gaspard!” Camila cried, scandalised.
“Stay away from him, child,” he said, before beginning to walk up the bank. He jerked his head to indicate that she should come with him-she wasn’t getting off that easily. “How long did the midwife say until you should be confined to bed? Not too long now, I am sure.”
“No,” Camila mumbled. She wasn’t the type of girl who liked being cooped up for any length of time.
“Come on,” her older brother said, and began heading away up the bank. The sun was behind his head: it looked like a halo. Grasping her skirts and glancing down towards the beach one last time-she saw no sign of her lover-Camila hurried after him.
Title: Trouble
Rating: G
Challenge: Pistachio #24: retreat, Butter Pecan #30: dizzy, FOTD: fain
Toppings/Extras: butterscotch, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 736
Summary: Jacob Graham should not have come to visit Camila Santos.
Notes: Aw, nineteen-year-old Jacob. Before he was a captain and he was a full-time blunderer. XD Fain: Gladly; willingly. Desirous; eager. Fresh peaches-- The Moon moves into dramatic Leo tonight, increasing your desire for excitement. An opposition to Mars could bring confrontations with others. Emotions may run high as you navigate this potentially tricky aspect. Finding a balance between your needs and those of friends and community will ease tensions and calm emotions.
“Ay, pirate, get out of here!”
Camila Santos twisted her neck around to see her brother appearing over the grassy verge at the top of the hillside and in front of her, Jacob Graham’s eyes widened.
“Trouble,” he said, which made her giggle despite the situation. After pressing his lips briefly to hers-they were warm and made her stomach flip, not that she’d admit this-he added, “I’ll see you again.”
“When?” she asked. Her brother was running now.
“Before the baby’s born,” Jacob replied, which was as close as he could ever get. Camila bit her lip and watched him turn and run for dear life down the hill, jumping tufts of yellowish Cuban grass entirely and tripping on rocks. Her hand moved over her pregnant belly, now fairly large and clearly noticeable.
Time passed too quickly before her brother arrived. She turned to him, already putting on her practised guilty face.
“Camila,” he hissed, leaning towards her-but he wouldn’t lay a finger on her, she knew. “I told you to stop seeing him!”
“I’m sorry,” she replied in their home tongue now that her lover was gone. She laced her fingers together and looked at them instead of her brother’s bright, concerned eyes. She hated to make him angry. “He came to find me.”
“It doesn’t matter! You should not have come here with him!”
“It’s his baby,” Camila said, putting her hand on her stomach.
“I know,” Gaspard Santos snapped in response, running his hands through his dark hair. It was cropped short and his skin was dark and leathery from endless toil on the farm. The sleepy port town of Santa Isadora seemed far away, over the hillock of her brother’s farmlands, but she knew that eyes and ears were everywhere. She bit her lip in shame. “I have worked so hard to get here, Camila, so hard. If people find out you are carrying the baby of a heathen Englishman pirate, I don’t know what I would… it would ruin…”
He seemed scarcely able to continue.
“He wants to know the baby,” Camila said. “That’s all. Doesn’t he deserve it?”
“As far as everyone in this town is concerned, the father is dead,” Gaspard said, lowering his voice despite the fact that the two of them were far from any lurking townspeople. “Not running like a little girl for the port!”
To illustrate his point, he jabbed a finger down towards the waning figure of Jacob Graham. As they both turned to look, he tripped and plunged away down the grassy verge, cartwheeling and disappearing from view. They saw him rise a moment later to leap over a rickety wooden fence. Gaspard frowned.
“If he steps on any of my tobacco plants…!”
“When the baby is born,” Camila continued, bringing his attention back to more important matters, “please… he must be allowed to see it. His child!”
“Maybe when I am more established in the business, Camila,” Gaspard said with a loud sigh. The guilt was instant; the moment that slightly reproachful look crossed his face it budded relentlessly in her stomach. He was housing her, feeding her, saving her from the scorn of their parents-oh, she tried to help on the farm, but with her pregnancy moving onwards she was becoming increasingly more useless.
“And then…?”
A passing zephyr sighed across her skirts, sending them fluttering. The sea roared beneath them, vivid green-blue, and field upon field of crops flourished around them. It was hard for Camila to understand how one man could change so much. Frustrated but resigned to it, Gaspard sighed.
“And what happens after the baby is born? You get pregnant again?”
“Gaspard!” Camila cried, scandalised.
“Stay away from him, child,” he said, before beginning to walk up the bank. He jerked his head to indicate that she should come with him-she wasn’t getting off that easily. “How long did the midwife say until you should be confined to bed? Not too long now, I am sure.”
“No,” Camila mumbled. She wasn’t the type of girl who liked being cooped up for any length of time.
“Come on,” her older brother said, and began heading away up the bank. The sun was behind his head: it looked like a halo. Grasping her skirts and glancing down towards the beach one last time-she saw no sign of her lover-Camila hurried after him.