The Collective Short Story

The members of the Shameless Lions Writing Circle are in the middle of a group short story.  Click on the picture to read the whole rollicking tale filled with intrigue.  For now here’s my little bit:

     Nanny Julia stopped in mid-sentence and grabbed her friend Erica’s arm.  The threat of kidnapping was ever present for children like those of her powerful employer and a dark, slow moving car wasn’t normal for midday.  “Giovanni!  Anna!  Come to me now.”

     “Shit, Julia, you scared me to death!  I was just getting to the best part…”

     “Shhh.  Look up there, and watch your mouth in front of the kids.”  She watched Erica follow her gaze to the car and then opened her arms to catch the two children racing back to her. 

     Even at just four and six, Giovanni and Anna were and tall and slim with the same mahogany colored eyes and rich black hair of their father.  But that is where the similarity ended.  Grace’s children were sweet tempered and affectionate like their mother. 

     “Nanny my friend wants me!”  Giovanni fidgeted impatiently as he waited to hear why he’d been summoned away from his game.

     “There’s a cold breeze picking up, you need to have your jackets on.”  Julia dawdled at helping each of the children into their wind breakers intending to keep them close to her just until the mysterious car had passed.  Before she could finish zipping up Anna’s jacket she heard Erica gasp and looked up in time to see a face and two hands pressed against the car’s side window.

     “That’s Mommy!”  Giovanni yelled. 

     Julia grabbed his arm before he could race across the field to the slow moving car.  “No, Gio, remember?  Your momma is away visiting her sick mother.  Your Daddy told you that just this morning.”  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the car and when it started swerving on the road and then sped off at break neck speed she could no longer ignore the niggling fear that Mr. Carrebreu’s story had been a lie. 

     “Could you see the license plate?  I couldn’t tell who was in the back of that car, but I don’t think the lady was happy to be there.”  Erica said before whistling for her own two charges to return to her side.  “Too freakin’ creepy out here for me today, I think I’ll take my munchkins home for an afternoon in front of the TV.”

     As loath as she was to return to the cold, rambling Carrebreu home, Julia agreed with her friend. She led the children back toward the house her mind racing with images of her time as their nanny and the odd things she’d observed.  Julia watched the children sadly climb the steps to the front door, disappointment at losing their park time evident even from behind them.  For the sake of her young charges, she cleared her mind of gloomy thoughts.

     “Who wants to make popcorn balls and watch Dumbo?”  She called over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time to reach the door before the two children now squealing with laughter. 

     It wasn’t until bedtime that Julia again remembered the odd car at the park.  Anna and Giovanni were both weepy and missing their mother as they said their prayers and she tucked them into their little beds.  She found it odd that Mrs. Carrebreu hadn’t even called the children to wish them goodnight.  Once both kids were breathing with the steady cadence of deep sleep, Julia slipped from the room and made her way through the silent house to the kitchen.  In the center drawer of the cook’s desk kept beside the wall hung phone, she knew there was a list of important numbers.  Doctors, Dentists and family.  She’d used the list to contact Grace’s mother just months before when her employers were away on a business trip. Julia fidgeted on the cold marble floors as she dialed the number and listened to the phone ringing. 

    “Answering service.” 

    “I’m sorry; I must have dialed the wrong number…” Julia stammered.

    “Who is the party you are trying to reach?”

    “Elinore, Elinore Branigan?”

    “And your name?”

    “Julia, I’m Mrs. Branigan’s daughter’s nanny.”  Julia felt her stomach turn with anxiety at this unexpected interrogation.

     “Yes, Julia, you are on the authorized list.  Mrs. Branigan has left for her annual pilgrimage to the holy lands; she’s expected to return in time for the Christmas Holidays.  You may leave her a message or call back at that time.”

     Julia slammed the phone receiver back on its base, fear gnawing at her conscious like a starving rat.  Mr. Carrebreu had lied.  Grace’s mother was out of the country.  So where was Grace?  And what would she tell the children?  Before she could fully wrap her mind around these two questions she was startled by the sound of a slamming door and Cook ambled into the kitchen, hair in old fashioned curlers, her ample body swathed in a tent sized flannel nightgown.

     “What has you up Miss Julia?  Do you need a snack?  Some warm milk maybe?” 

           

     Julia looked into the kindly face of the ancient old cook and told her everything that happened that day from the park up to the phone call to Grace’s mother.  “I just don’t know what to do.”  She said.

     Cook stared at the counter top and sighed.  “The missus gave me instructions several years ago for just this kind of instance.”  She heaved herself off the stool she’d sat on to hear Julia’s story and waddled to the desk.  Cook lifted out the center drawer and pulled up a discreetly hinged flap of wood revealing a shallow drawer beneath.  Inside this cavity, a single piece of paper inscribed with the name “Mike” and a phone number.