Claimed by the Betrayed Mercenary

Chapter Six

Wynter’s POV

‘Thank you Wynter’ my mother’s friend states gratefully as she picks up the four month old baby who is now cooing happily as he gazes up at the christmas decorations above our heads, a far cry from the screaming mess that the frazzled woman entered with fifteen minutes ago.

‘No problem Mrs Fazier’ I reply, standing up from the couch, where I was crouched over, massaging the poor little guy’s tummy to help him move the trapped wind that was causing him pain. Guiding her to the door, I smile warmly at the older woman, ‘If little Frankie gets like that again, just do what I did, the same movements.’ Seeing the woman’s nervous expression, I place my hand on her arm, ‘or you can always pop over, I’m always happy to help a little one in need, whilst I’m here.’

Mrs Frazier laughs as she cuddles her grandson to her chest, ‘thank you again dear, I don’t know what I would do without you. It’s so different to back in my day, I thought I knew it all, but this little man? He just keeps coming up with new ways to worry me.’ She gives me a grateful smile, ‘you really are the baby whisperer’ she tells me, something I’ve been told a few times by various friends of my parents and siblings. ‘Why don’t you do something with it? It’s such a rare gift, you’d make a killing in childcare I’m sure of it.’

I shake my head, waving away her words just like I always do. Yes, I seem to have a knack with kids, it’s why I want to work with them, but I want to be a therapist, not a babysitter. I’m in my last year of my degree majoring in Child psychology, and I intend to finish it, I’m just waiting to return to college for my final semester. I also took lessons in baby massage, yoga and reflexology though, it sounds like a strange combination, but I firmly believe that the health of the mind and the body are intertwined. Sometimes relaxing the body can help with other problems, something I want to use when I’m qualified. These techniques have also proved useful when fraught relatives and friends have appeared with crying babies and no idea what to do, hence the nickname ‘baby whisperer.’

Waving the older woman goodbye, I watch her navigate our driveway and turn left toward her own house before shutting the door and sighing.

‘Oh has Betty gone?’ my mother’s voice calls out, seconds before she appears, wiping her muddy hands on a rag from where she’s been tending to her prized garden. Knowing how much she loved flowers and how sad she got when he gave her bunches of them, as she hated to see them die, my father planted it for her when they moved in.

Since he passed away six years ago, Mum has diligently cared for the space, and there is rarely a day that she isn’t out there pruning or weeding. She likes to say he’s beside her when she’s out there, watching over her and frowning when she misses a dead head. Despite the cold weather and the snow covering the ground, my mum still went out there this morning, just to sweep up the dead leaves and clear the flower beds of debris.

My parents were so in love, they were best friends, and they smothered both myself and my older brother, Finn, in that love. When Dad died, I didn’t know how we’d carry on, how Mum would move on, but she did. She grieved for a couple of months, then straightened her shoulders and stated that her Robert would never want her moping around. Her Robert would be telling her to pull her socks up because she still had me and my brother to take care of.

I swallow at the memory, Mum hasn’t so much as been to coffee with another man since Dad’s death, he was the love of her life. That’s the kind of love I hope to find one day, a love so strong that no other man will ever compare.

I smile back at her, nodding, ‘just left, Frankie just had a little trapped wind. A few minutes massaging his tummy and he shook the windows.’

Mum beams at me, ‘bless him, I remember Finn at that age, he spent an entire weekend screaming, dad and I, we were at our wits end with him! He’d only stop if he was being pushed in his pram, not a wink of sleep did your father get, he pushed that pram round and round the street just so your brother would get some rest.’

I laugh, having heard this story a million times before, ‘if only you’d had me first’ I reply, ‘I would have sorted him out in minutes.’

‘If I’d have had you first Wynter, I wouldn’t have had any more kids’ my mother retorts in amusement.

‘True’ I agree, ‘why would you bother after creating someone as perfect as me? As they say, you keep making new ones until you perfect the recipe, and here I am!’

My mother chuckles, using her rag to swat at me as I dance away from her giggling.

‘Missed me golden oldie’ I tease, ‘you’re getting slow in your old age, maybe it’s time for that nursing home.’

‘I’ll show you slow, you little madam’ my mother calls after me as I take off down the hall cackling, hearing my mother’s slippered feet hitting the floor as she chases me.

I race along the corridor, taunting the older woman mercilessly until I reach the end. Skidding on the hardwood floor, I try to take the corner in my sock covered feet toward my bedroom, but immediately realise I’m going to fast.

My feet slide out from under me, and I yelp as I fall, arms wheeling madly as I try to stay upright to no avail, landing with a thud as my mum appears behind me, laughing harder as roll onto my back, lips parted in shock.

‘Oh my God sweetie, are you OK?’ mum asks as she doubles over, gasping for breath.

I nod, pushing myself up to my knees, my face burning red with embarrassment, nothing bruised but my ego.

‘You don’t have to laugh so hard’ I point out, pouting at the woman above me, ‘you’re my mother, you are supposed to be almost beside yourself with worry!’

Mum bites down on her lower lip, trying to stop the giggles as she nods, ‘you’re absolutely right’ she agrees quickly, gulping big lungfuls of air as she battles with her emotions. ‘But . . Oh my God Wyn, it was like watching Bambi on ice skates!’ She spins her arms in imitation before bursting into giggles again, me joining her as I slowly stand up.

‘That will teach you to wear your slippers’ my mother points out, her eyes dancing. ‘How many times have I told you to wear your slippers down here, the floors have been like this your entire life!’

‘I know, but they make my feet to hot’ I moan, brushing my hands down my clothes. I’ve always hated wearing anything but socks on my feet, that along with my inherent clumsiness means that I fall over or bang myself pretty much every day. I was on first name terms with all the nurses at our ER when I was a kid because I was there so often!

In a desperate attempt to at least stop me sliding on the hardwood, my brother actually bought me some of those socks that have grips on the bottom to try and keep me upright. I still keep putting my normal ones on though. I can’t help it! They have cute characters on them! The ones Finn bought are like old granny designs!

Rubbing my arm, my mother shakes her head at me, ‘well then, stop running in my house’ she tuts, ‘now come on, I’ll make you a hot chocolate to sooth your bones.’

I laugh, threading my arm through hers as we head toward the kitchen, ‘do you have cookies?’ I ask hopefully.

The older woman rolls her eyes, ‘seriously?’ she huffs, ‘I thought you were twenty three not two! You sound like Layla after she gets a booboo.’ I grin at the mention of my brother’s little girl, two years old and sassy as anything.

‘She takes after her Auntie Wyn’ I reply, ‘what’s the point of getting a booboo if you don’t get a cookie for your suffering?’

Pushing me into a chair beside the breakfast bar, Mum pushes the tin of biscuits toward me, smiling as I reach for them eagerly, taking off the top and pulling one out, eating it in three bites before grabbing a second.

Turning away from me, she pulls out the milk, along with a couple of mugs and a saucepan, she starts to make our drinks, her shoulders falling slightly.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, noticing the change in her mood.

Sighing, she looks back at me, her face melancholy as I bite into another one of her homemade cookies, groaning softly as the chocolate chips melt against my tongue.

‘Nothing, it’s just . . I’m going to miss you’ she murmurs, ‘when you go back to college.’

Standing up, I head around the bar toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist as she leans into me.

‘Mum, I’m only going to be in Maine, it’s just a couple of hours away, and I’ll come home to visit, just like I always do.’

My mother nods sadly, ‘I know’ she mutters, ‘it’s just, with Finn gone, and your dad . . . this house gets a bit big sometimes.’

I lean back slightly to look at the other woman, ‘do you . . . do you want to sell this place?’ I ask, my voice wobbling slightly.

Mum’s eyes widen as she shakes her head, ‘what? No! of course not! This is my home! I just . . ‘ she waves a hand smiling sadly, ‘I get a little lonely on my own.’

I return her smile, nodding, ‘yeah, I miss you too when I’m at college, but you have Finn and Layla comes to visit!’

My mum nods, ‘yeah’ she agrees, ‘but I can’t expect them to be here all the time, Finn has his own life, a job, family . . ‘

I nudge her playfully, ‘well maybe it’s time you got out there’ I offer, ‘find yourself a fancy man.’

The older woman’s eyes widen as she gasps at me, ‘I’ll do no such thing’ she huffs, her melancholy mood breaking.

‘Maybe you could become a cougar’ I offer, ‘I’m sure one of the ladies at your knitting club could introduce you to one of their sons . . ‘

‘Oh you’ my mother swats me playfully as she laughs, ‘what are you like! A cougar! I don’t even know what that is! And I don’t think I want to either.’

Heading back to my seat, I giggle, ‘no, you probably don’t’ I agree, before sobering, ‘but I’m not kidding about finding someone mum. It’s been years since Dad passed, and he wouldn’t want you to be sitting in this huge house alone, he'd want you to be happy.’

Mum smiles softly, ‘I am happy’ she replies, ‘don’t worry about me, I’m just being silly.’ She hesitates for a second looking at me as I wait, ‘I’m so proud of you Wynter’ she murmurs, ‘you are an amazing young woman, and I love you so much. Your Dad did too, he would have been boasting to all his friends about you if he was still here.’

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, working to talk as emotions clog me, ‘thanks mum, I love you too.’