Chapter 7.12: Dear Diary, Fresh Air & Funny Clothes

Part 1: Landing in a Safe Place

Dear Diary, there it is. Our new home for the time being. I hope. But, let me start at the beginning because I’m sure you want to know how this came to be.

If you remember, Jarah’s psychiatrist was asking too many questions, then, the same afternoon, a strange man came by the house. That was too much in one to be coincidence in my mind. So, I waited until the middle of the night before waking Jarah, and getting us out of there.

Luckily, I already had a plan in place in case something like this were to happen. The other good thing was Jarah was accustomed to following instructions without question. (That reminds me. When we’re out of this mess, I want to help him break this habit. For now, though, let’s keep it.)

Our first order of business was to get far away from the village, and fast. Jarah and I had found a car sitting at the end of a long driveway one day while we were moving into the house by the sea. The old man who owned it, was happy to see it go for next to nothing, but didn’t have any papers for it. That was exactly what we needed! Sure, it was a rust bucket, but reliable enough to do what we needed. Anything new or flashy was bound to garner attention, so the one we used needed to fit into the village better. Everyone drove clunkers here.

Tonight, it was sitting on the hidden lane beside our property right where we left it, covered with branches, and hidden by bushes. Jarah and I made quick work of uncovering the old beast and donning the hats we’d also hidden there. I wasn’t as worried about Jarah’s appearance, but my red hair stuck out like a sore thumb.

I didn’t want anyone who might hide near the house to notice us leaving, so we moved to the rear of the car and pushed it onto the road which was deserted at this hour. As silently as we could, we pushed it a little further. When I was satisfied, we jumped in. I didn’t turn the headlights on, but I started the car, and off we went.

From there, we traveled until we were nearly out of fuel. The choice was simple, fill the gas tank, and risk being caught on a security camera, or figure something else out.

“I think we should steal a car.”

Jarah’s words snapped me to attention. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

He shrugged. “I know how to hot-wire a car. Pick one out, and let me do my thing.”

I don’t know how long I stared at him, my mouth gaping.

“We should take one parked on the street, and dump this one in some water somewhere.”

Who was this kid? “No, absolutely not,” I said, my eyes narrow.

“Okay, then find a gas station that doesn’t have a security camera.”

The challenge he put before me was real. “I can’t believe this,” I said as I pulled over. Once the car was parked, I removed my seat belt and turned to stare at him. “How do you know about hot-wiring cars?”

As he sat there, trying to come up with an answer, he did everything he could not to look at me. First, he picked lint off his pants, then, he undid his seat belt, and inspected the door handle.

“Jarah.”

Sighing, he finally said, “I don’t think I’ll answer that.” Pointing at a car parked on the street several feet in front of us, he said, “That’s a good choice… poopy brown color, nondescript, mud sloshed all over it.”

He talked me into it. I should have insisted it was wrong, but I really don’t need you judging me right now, Diary. We’re in a fix, and I’m doing the best I can without panicking.

So, we stole the car, which Jarah drove, while I drove our original clunker. True to his word, Jarah knew all kinds of things about this sort of activity. We found a pond to dump the old car in, and stood there watching until it sank, and we couldn’t see it any longer.

“Piece of cake,” he murmured as the last few bubbles from the sunken car disappeared on the surface of the water.

All I could do was stare at him, dumbfounded.

As for the rest of our travels, it was easier than I ever realized to hire a fisherman to take us across a lake or river, and it was just as simple to get a small plane ride. If you showed people cash, they did anything you wanted.

Finally, our small plane flew over Winchester Island which I’d read about in Blue Capra’s diary. During her time as the heir, she ran away from home because her father was a famous rock star and she couldn’t handle the pressures that came from his fans, not to mention the paparazzi.

When she got here, all those years ago, she ended up staying, and raising a family here. My hope was her descendants were still around, and they’d take us in the way Blue was taken in and cared for.

Since there was no place to land a plane in Winchester, we landed on the nearest mainland. Then, instead of taking the ferry, we asked a fisherman to bring us over. To my relief, he didn’t ask questions, but accepted the fifty simoleons I offered in exchange.

It was a bumpy ride, the waves being bigger than I expected, and I thought I would throw up. Jarah took my hand, squeezing my fingers. I didn’t let go until we stepped onto dry ground again.

From a short distance, the farm Blue and her husband Matt worked didn’t look much different than the old pictures in Blue’s diary. Taking in a deep breath, I was pleased at how clear and fresh the air was. It was a strange mixture, being so close to the beach and ocean. The air smelled like rich earth, but also salty sea air.

“Looks kinda old.”

I gave Jarah my best reassuring smile, and said, “This place differs from anywhere you’ve ever been. I’ll show you some pictures sometime. But, basically Blue Capra was my great-great-great-great grandma. Crazy, right? But her descendants, my family, still live here. Blue came here when she was a teenager, about your age, actually. She fell in love with the place and never left.”

“Why do you think we’ll be safe here?”

“Because this is a private island with its own government. A family called the St. Cyrs are in charge… well, if they still are. Their family established this island, and it used to even be called St. Cyr island. I’m hoping this government, and our family will protect us. All we can do is try to convince them.”

We walked a little closer, then stopped again, as Jarah folded his arms in front, and bit his lower lip.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“There’s no power box, no air conditioning unit. I haven’t seen a single car. What is this place? Do they know what year it is?”

Despite the butterflies in my stomach, and still feeling a little green from our last boat right, I laughed. “From what I’ve read, they’re kind of primitive that way.”

The greeting we received was pretty awkward, but at least they didn’t turn us away. In this photo, you can see the parents of this family standing in the middle, their two children on either side.

So, the blond-haired man is my great-great-great uncle Paul Larochette. His great-grandfather was Marty Larochette Sprague’s brother Charles, if that helps at all. It does me because I have the journals to refer to. I’m afraid poor Jarah is lost.

Paul’s wife, standing on his left in the picture, is named Charlotte. She and Paul seem to be about the same age as my parents. Their son’s name is Armand, their daughter is named Michelle, and they appear to be around my age, give or take.

They all have strong French accents, sometimes even slipping into the French language when they converse. I know very little French, but Jarah said he took French in school. He says he’s not fluent, yet either way, at least he’s had that much. It certainly can’t hurt.

Part 2: Trying to Fit In

Once we arrived, we sat with Paul, and his family to discuss the situation Jarah, and I are in. Without bringing anything supernatural into the conversation, I explained everything about Jarah’s family, how I am responsible for him, and that we need a safe place to stay for an indefinite amount of time. I admitted danger might follow us here, although, I tried to be careful in our travels. You just never know.

While it’s been awkward, I’ve tried to pitch in where I can. The more I help, the more I’m hoping they’ll let us stay and speak to the St. Cyrs on our behalf. This feels like our last chance to assimilate into a life without the dangers of the outside world pressing in. I’m so exhausted from running and hiding.

In the end, I offered them money, and our help working the farm, whatever that might mean.

When I finished with my story, Paul stared at his wife for a moment, then turned back to us.

“You may stay for as long as you need. We would appreciate the extra hands, but we do not need your money.”

And, it was settled.

Jarah slept in Armand’s room, while I slept in Michelle’s. One morning, as we made the beds in our room, I asked Michelle how old she was.

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked as I pulled the handmade quilt to the top of the bed.

She was folding the sheet over the top of the quilt on her bed. “I wish I did. The boys find me…”

Standing up straight, I sat on my freshly made bed, and waited for an answer.

“Well, truth is, they don’t find me at all.”

“Why is that?”

“I have trouble speaking to them, you see. Whenever I’m alone with a man, even the kindest ones, nothing comes out of my mouth. I try so hard. Thing is, men have stopped trying.”

I took her hands in mine and smiled into her brown eyes. “Maybe there’s a shy man out there for you.”

“Not on this island,” she sighed. “When you live here, you already know everyone.”

“Well, you never know who might come to the island. I’m here, and you didn’t expect that.”

I was rewarded with a little smile that warmed my heart.

After speaking with Michelle, I wandered downstairs. So far, I hadn’t told anyone about my pregnancy yet, and didn’t plan to anytime soon since I wasn’t showing yet. It was another complication I just didn’t want to think about for now.

Instead of following the glorious smell of bacon toward the dining room, a painting caught my eye. As I stared at it, realization dawned on me.

“Do you recognize her from her journal?” a soft voice said behind my right shoulder.

As I turned toward her, I smiled. Charlotte was a quiet woman, like her daughter. But, she had sparkling, kind, blue eyes.

“It’s Blue.”

She nodded, wiping her hands on the dish towel she was carrying. “Yes, when she first arrived on the island as a teenager. It’s a Dax St. Cyr original.”

That rang a bell, too. Dax had made a good life as an artist in France, and I bet if they sold this painting, they’d get a lot of money for it.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Charlotte said, averting her eyes for a moment before continuing, “but you’re in a delicate condition, are you not?”

Immediately, I felt the wash of heat in my cheeks, and it was my turn to look away.

“Oh,” Charlotte said, taking my hand for a brief time, “I don’t mean to embarrass you. I only thought to introduce you to our midwife.”

The heat in my face grew hotter, but I managed a smile. “Thank you, that would be good.” But there was more I wanted her to know. “May I speak openly?”

Her eyes widened, but the small smile never left her face. “Of course.”

“I thought perhaps I should apologize for intruding on you and your family. You have all been so kind. I know our coming here wasn’t expected, and it’s probably inconvenient, too.”

“Nonsense,” she said, her voice and eyes warm. “We take family seriously here, and no matter how distant our relation, you’re still one of us. You are welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

“Thank you. But, won’t the St. Cyrs having something to say about that?”

Her smile widened, and there was a wicked sparkle in her eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about that lot. You see, I am a St. Cyr. They’ll hold their tongues if they know what’s good for them.”

For the first time in I don’t know how long, I laughed. Charlotte and I hugged, and I knew, I was home.

Notes:

I hope you liked today’s chapter, and that this day is treating you well. 🙂 Thanks to Bee who suggested during her editing that Jarah and Kara steal a car. It was so fun to write! haha

The picture of Blue hanging on the wall was made for me by Jowita. I’m so happy to be using it again!

Oh, and, someone called it in last week’s comments when she said St. Cyr is where our duo should hide out. I’m looking at you, Mia Angelina. 😀 You were spot on!

I need to apologize if my responses to your comments are sometimes slow. I’ve been a bit under the weather as of late. Please forgive me, I love hearing from you.

Thank you, everyone, for reading, commenting, liking, and lurking! I appreciate you so much.