Freddy Anderson’s Home: Book 1 (4 page)

Chapter 4
The Inn

A
fter sleeping most of the way through my first plane ride, I was wide awake when it was time to land. The stewardesses were nice, and I had plenty to do, planning out what I would need at my new home. The flight was fun and the view amazing, but I had to pop my ears several times. I wanted to go up with the pilots to ask some questions, but I was told that it wasn’t legal.

The second flight was much more interesting. The plane was a small single prop with a turbo. Captain Bob was the pilot. He was probably sixty but seemed much older, as if he was about to fall apart. He looked just like the grandfathers I’d seen in movies—black hair that was gray over the ears, untidy blue overalls, and a white shirt that was clean but looked worn. He looked almost like a farmer with his sun-wrinkled skin that was dark brown, like the old earthenware plate that my mother used to love. There was a pin over his chest that read “Captain Bob Nevers.” After touching him on the arm and using my healing abilities to check that he was fit, I settled in for the ride. Captain Bob let me ask all the questions I wanted, and I learned everything about flying that I could in the time I had. I think I asked enough questions to drive the poor man away from doing private flights altogether. Most of my questions were things like, “Is the interior of the cockpit correct, or could you make improvements if you had the chance? Why would you do that? Would that work for someone who was left-handed?” Of course, Captain Bob had no idea that he was helping me with my next project.

Though I was curious, asking questions about the town would have been fruitless, as Captain Bob would have exaggerated everything. If he had known that I was empathic and knew he was lying through his teeth, he would have kept his stories to something a little saner, like accidentally flying around the moon—really now! I wanted to know more about the town, though. I had looked it up on the Internet and learned that its reason for existence was fishing. It also supported the navy base and the army. I filed everything Captain Bob told me away for later use. The only disappointment was the lack of speed, as the flight was very slow. There were cars below us that seemed to be passing us as if we were standing still.

We landed at a tiny airport, and Jake, the taxi driver, was waiting. The big old taxi pulled right up to the plane. Jake was the quiet type and said almost nothing. He had a small French-style mustache that he played with constantly when he saw my size and apparent age. The look on his face was amusement. He was short and very overweight but lifted my luggage like it weighed nothing and effortlessly settled it down into the taxi’s huge trunk. When everything had been transferred, we took off. The taxi was a 1985 Ford, according to the license tag hanging from the window, and had so much room in the backseat that I felt almost lost. The trip was made in silence as we sped over winding mountain roads for the thirty-mile trip to the coastal town. When we arrived, Jake helped me with my luggage.

The old two-story Victorian inn was nestled against the little bay that supported the town. There were a few fishing boats at the docks but almost no people. It was an old building with a good coat of paint. My first impression was that it was warm and cozy, just like home. It smelled of fresh-baked bread and had very clean wooden floors. Large evergreens surrounded it, keeping it cool in summer and cutting the wind in winter. At this time, in spring, there was no need for a fire in the huge fireplace. There were deer heads, a moose head, and all kinds of animals hanging overhead. The woman with whom I had spoken on the phone came into the front room. She had a friendly smile and introduced herself as Mrs. Crain, the owner of the inn. She was very lovely, tall—and nearly covered in flour. Her hair was long but pulled up into a very large tight ball at the back of her head. She looked young and happy, with a pleasant smile. She was very polite and said nothing about a ten-year-old, who looked more like a seven-year-old, being out on his own. She showed me to my room and told me that dinner would be ready in about half an hour. I instantly took a liking to her.

The second-floor room was nice—open and light with a big window that offered a good view of the mountains in back of the inn. The large bathroom had an old-fashioned tub on legs—a tub big enough to swallow a grown-up. I could stand up in it and still be submerged over my waist. (I know, because I tried.) My room had pictures of Victorian people playing, dancing, and hunting. The chest of drawers had a mirror big enough that, if it were magical, you could walk through it and not have to duck. It reminded me of
Alice in Wonder
land
.

By far the biggest thing in the room was the bed. It was almost as tall as me and had steps up to it. It looked very inviting with its thick, homemade quilt and gigantic pillows, but sleep was still a long way away.

Across from the inn, a young woman sat alone on a bench near the dock. She was wearing a jacket and blue jeans, but I had seen those standard-issue boots used by the Reserve Officers Training Corps, or ROTC, at the university. She looked very much out of place when I arrived. I touched her mind and learned that she was from the navy and was watching me.
Interesting
, I thought.
The navy is having me watched. I wonder why? Whatever! Unpacking comes first for now.
After unpacking, I washed up.

In exactly one half hour, I went downstairs for dinner. Everything was ready, and it sure smelled great. Four children—three girls and a boy—were helping to set the table and pour drinks. The girls wore everyday dresses, and the boy wore shorts and a T-shirt. It was just the children, Mrs. Crain, and me for dinner.

Mrs. Crain came in and the children lined up for inspection. Starting with the oldest, Mrs. Crain inspected their hands and behind their ears. I was very glad Nanny had taught me proper hygiene. Carroll passed inspection, and then it was Johnny’s turn.

Miss. Crain said, “Okay, Johnny, you may sit down.” The short five-year-old came next and she smiled up at her mommy. Mrs. Crain inspected her and told her she could sit down, but with a sideward glance at her oldest, she gave the little girl’s fanny a swat saying, “Carroll needs to help you work on doing a better job of cleaning your fingernails.”

Carroll said, “Yes, Mother. We’ll start tonight.”

Mrs. Crain motioned for me to sit next to her and across from Carroll.

We all sat there quietly while Becky, the middle-aged girl, said grace. Then everyone waited for Mrs. Crain to start dishing out food. Mommy and Daddy never said grace and often ate most of the food before it reached the table. Nanny let me see that others do things differently, so I held back until I saw how everything was done. Nanny taught me great manners, and I’d read a few books on the subject, so I was prepared not to eat until I saw someone else start.

“Dr. Anderson, this is my eldest daughter, Carroll.” Carroll was tall for a twelve-year-old, with long blonde hair that was tied back, just like her mother’s. Somewhat skinny, she had light blue eyes that shone with curiosity, but they held a kindness that was very reassuring. Her skin was tanned and smooth, nearly blemish free.

I said, “Nice to meet you, Carroll.”

“Nice to meet you also, sir,” she said.

That “sir” produced giggles from the rest of the children.

Mrs. Crain then said, “This is my second eldest, Becky.” Becky was ten years old and taller than me by only an inch, which means she was very short for her age. She also had long hair and a twinkle in her eye, like she was trying to pull something. She was extremely pretty, and I had a hard time taking my eyes off her.

I said, “Nice to meet you, Becky.”

“Hello, Dr. Anderson. It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

I must have blushed, as Annabelle giggled and pointed at me. Mrs. Crain said, “Annabelle! Stop that or go to your room.” Annabelle stopped immediately and looked very chastened. I smiled and winked at her. That made her smile.

“This is my son, Johnny,” Mrs. Crain said.

“Hello, Johnny.”

“Hi.” Johnny was nine years old and looked a lot different from the rest. His complexion was darker, and he had bushier eyebrows over dark blue eyes. His hair was cut in a typical boy’s short butch cut. He was tall and very stocky. He had a look on his face like he was highly irritated about something.

“And last, but not least,” said Mrs. Crain, “this is Annabelle, my baby.”

Annabelle gave her a look that said,
I’m not a
baby.

I said, “Hello, young lady.”

She smiled back at me and said, “Hello. You’re nice.” Annabelle was five years old, and she appeared to be a little ball of fire. Emotions played across her face like waves during a storm. Her blonde hair hung down to the middle of her back and spilled over her shoulder and halfway into her plate. She had her mother’s blue eyes and a smile that would light up the darkest room.

I looked at Mrs. Crain and complimented her on her wonderful family as well as the nice dinner that was spread before us. I told her that I hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in over a year.

When she heard this, she picked up a fork and started eating, and so did everyone else. I think she purposefully waited until my mouth was full before asking me the first question.

“Dr. Anderson, what brings you way out here without proper supervision?”

I had just taken a small bite of the most wonderful roll with real butter. I raised one finger in response while I continued chewing. She smiled and waited. When I had finished the bite, I said, “Mrs. Crain, this is where the government has allowed me to live. They granted me the land south of here, and I intend to build a home and settle here. The reason I am here alone
 
…” I started to choke up a little and desperately tried to hold back tears—memories of Mom and Dad still did that to me.

“I’m sorry,” she said with concern. “I did not mean to meddle in something that is obviously painful to you.”

“It’s all right, ma’am. I need to get used to it. I’m sure the subject will come up many more times. I am without ‘proper supervision’ because my mother and father died in a plane crash. I have no one to provide me with supervision. After they died, I petitioned the government for my own emancipation.” I could hold on no longer, and the tears fell.

The table was silent after that. Mrs. Crain said, “I’m sorry, dear.”

“That’s okay, ma’am.”

After a few minutes of enjoyable eating, I looked over at Johnny. My curiosity got the better of me, as I knew that he was upset about some punishment he earned. I looked at Mrs. Crain and asked, “May I ask what caused Johnny to be punished?”

Johnny turned four shades of red. Mrs. Crain said, “Johnny is being punished for flipping up his sisters’ dresses in public.”

I looked at Johnny and asked, “Are you a bully?”

Johnny started to answer but was cut off by his mother. “No, he’s normally a good child, but sometimes he gets into trouble. I find that a little swat on the backside and time doing the girls chores is a good way to put him back in line.”

“I personally find the idea of teasing girls appalling,” I said. “I am glad you love him enough to correct his ways.”

“Thank you very much, Dr. Anderson.”

We ate the rest of the meal in silence, but Becky kept smiling at me.

After dinner I started to help clean up, but since I was a paying customer, I was told that I was not allowed to help. “Besides,” Mrs. Crain said, “I want to talk to Johnny alone, and this is a good time.” She scooted the girls and me out of the house “for a little while.”

I started walking out to the beach. It was still early, and I thought I would do a little exploring. The whole group followed me. Annabelle, being little and not at all shy, asked me, “Why are you wearing earrings?”

I looked at Carroll for the right to answer, and she nodded for me to go ahead.

I told her, “At home, my mother and father were very open about what I did and what I wore, and they both wore earrings. So, when I said I wanted to wear earrings, they had no problem with that, and I’ve been wearing them ever since.”

Annabelle smiled up at me and said, “I like you. You’re not like the mean old boys we have around here.”

I gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

They had a thousand questions, and I answered them all quite candidly, even though that navy woman was quietly following us and seemed to be taking mental note of everything I said. I did not want to scare my new friends, but I kept an eye on her just in case. Her emotions showed that she was harmless, so I didn’t worry much. Time passed quickly, and soon the children were called inside. I told them I would be in shortly.

After they went inside, I turned to the woman who was sitting on the bench again and said, “Please tell Admiral Bates that I’m in town and that I would like to see him at his earliest convenience, maybe Wednesday.” Then I turned and walked inside. The woman never moved, and her face never changed expression, but my empathy told me her feelings screamed, “How did he know?”

I went up to my room. Mrs. Crain came up with Johnny. He looked sad, but he was very happy inside. Most confusing. Mrs. Crain wanted to check on me to be sure I had everything I needed.

After she left, I did a little testing with my equipment and set my proximity detector on automatic. Then I took a bath and went to bed.
Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day. I’ll bet that in a town this size, everyone knows everything that is said and done.
I’d already planned not to hide any normal stuff about myself. I found out early in life that it only makes things worse. As my daddy once told me, “Either they accept you or not; it’s their choice.”