Her lovemaking was not far from her usual self. Unusual was the utter exhaustion which followed the ecstasy and pleasure. Oona was no doubt drawn and weary, as she usually left her lovers. And Oona didn’t notice that Lucia watched them with great interest.
Neither Trixi nor Oona were visible to KC who had been up and around since early morning. “How could I leave those two alone last night? I was so tired, I had to turn in. I was worn out from the day.” KC took a breath and sat alone in the kitchen with her coffee cradled in both hands and a small breakfast off to the side. For now KC was determined to make her Sunday a good day.
“I am so happy that Trixi is visiting. I look forward to her company.” KC, however, was most deeply troubled by Oona’s behavior around her and also the kids. KC feared Oona’s very presence was corrupting the children, and especially young and innocent Thankful. KC also acknowledged that Oona had been a tremendous help in securing her return to work on State Street in Boston. And she still needed, or at least desired Oona’s powers to reach her husband on the other side. But even that was, lately, a spectacle. Oona seemed drunk and toxic, leaving her powerless to connect with her husband in the ways she had hoped. KC took a long sip of her morning coffee. And in a low voice, KC said for herself:
“Then there are the weirdoes, the down-and-outers who line up now along the side of the house. What are the neighbors thinking? What will they ask me?” She took a good gulp of her coffee. “I suppose I’ll say that those people want appointments with the world-renowned ontologist from Washington, DC. Oona doesn’t need to be here for that! And she doesn’t need to be here to contact Drew. My own son Louis does better; he’s Andy’s son as well as mine. Yup, Louis is key to reaching Andy now.
“Maybe someone like Trixi, maybe even somebody totally new, can move in and help with the kids? Oona can go her own way, and take her out-of-control libido with her!” KC rose from her chair and needed another cup. “Doing it with those construction men and her…job applicants!” She paced. “And Alexi, and flirting with Trixi, my old baby-sitter! Yes, perhaps Boston or Cambridge is better suited for Oona, certainly not here in middle class suburbia. Yes, let Oona go to another place where she is still so well connected.” KC stomped around in the open kitchen. “Yes, she will have to go.”
When unfilled, it was almost always concerning matters of extreme sexual appetite, mainly to satisfy Oona’s hyper-libidinous persona. This late, late morning – it was nearly twelve noon – she was fulfilled, though unlike the pleasures she derived from Alexi.
Then the strangest vision came to Oona in her bath. There was a daydreaming recollection as clear as the air, of a living great witch Lucia of St Lucia who looked down on her. Oona strangely felt as if she were a ready and willing servant girl. Though it was an odd occurrence, it was the most unlikely of places and Oona thought little of it once the vision passed. She recalled Lucia from Caribbean folklore, a slave girl who became a mighty witch.
Oona continued to sponge her body, without a care, in the warm water of blessed comfort.
After church Oona planned to make time for some informal instruction for the five-year old child-witch. Her brother Louis was on a completely different level. But the young witch needed to be trained for her own safety. Where Oona felt tired and witless, it made sense to encourage the children’s abilities. Louis was older than Thankful and often by Oona’s side. He developed his powers under her watchful eye and guiding hand. Louis even learned the powers of persuasion and other traits, in her presence, when Oona provided scheduled tutorials for thirteen year old Charley, abilities which would someday be within Louis’ means to achieve. Oona leaned back in the tub, sank herself deeper into the bath bubbles and closed her still-tired eyes.
Up in the attic loft Trixi was spent and exhaustingly aware that KC would be looking for her. With the daylight came a small measure of guilt or shame, she couldn’t tell which it was. “KC will be angry if she knows what happened with Oona last night.” And quite frankly she didn’t care. It was late 2010, and almost into another new year. Why should she care?
It was late morning – almost twelve – and Trixi remained in her guest bed in slow motion, emergent mode. It seemed she was in a dream state. It also seemed they’d been at it all night. And indeed they had, emotionally if not physically. Oh, what a night it had been. It was a true awakening for her; an epiphany. Trixi was, at eighteen, finally in love. More, the encounter convinced her that women achieve longer and more intense outcomes when in the company of other women. A luscious feeling of complete fulfillment rushed through her young, though exhausted body. She believed she could hardly walk (It is too soon for that) and remained in bed. Trix could not wait to see her again. And she clearly needed time to rest and wake up first. A small smile took hold of both corners of her mouth.
Trixi forced her mind to KC and how she would always be grateful for her friendship and kindness over the years. At the same time Trixi regretted she was unable to be here sooner, when KC needed her most. Now Mr. Boehme has been dead for nearly two months! “Yes, there is much to think about this morning before I get out of this bed.” Trixi turned to one side. “I will not say anything about Oona unless Mrs. Boehme asks.” She smiled proudly and rolled again onto her back.
“If KC doesn’t call me soon, I’ll go out for a while, take a long walk or even call a cab. Maybe I’ll take that adorable dog for a walk. One thing I will not do is call on Oona. “I must be very discreet with our relationship, and will let the day play as God would wish it to be. “And I will leave a note for KC.”
It was indeed a lovely Sunday when Oona returned from church that afternoon.
“Bon jour ma chère,” Oona announced, when she suddenly entered the kitchen.
A shudder surged through KC’s bathrobe covered body. Oona’s voice was like the cutting edge of a sharp knife. She looked over to Oona and nodded politely.
More than once Oona gently cornered KC as the two women milled about the kitchen. Trix and the kids were nowhere in sight. Oona would never cast spells to win her, though KC remained immune to her natural charms. KC’s reactions to Oona’s entreaties seemed extraordinarily numb, intentionally ambiguous or, at best, totally naïve.
Concern tantalizingly presented itself when Oona thought how angry KC would be with her and with Trixi. “She may also be jealous!” Oona mused. “Oh, great Loa Erzulie: Please make that so.” Then with a glazed look which covered her face, Oona more cynically added, “Who knows what those two are up to anyway? The young Dutch girl had no business with us (she and KC) until the events of last night. Perhaps she and KC will fight over me.” More calmly now, Oona smiled her smile.
KC measured her words carefully and then said, “I do not like it when you use the term ma chère. Do not call me ’ma chère’ anymore.” KC gave a few seconds for those words to sink in, and took note that Oona looked mildly irritated.
“Look Oona: I know that you use the term without disrespect, but your naïve or innocent chauvinism is evident with the term. I know as a matter of plain fact that you are way beyond the abilities of most other people, living or dead; that with your intellect and great beauty and the use of your six senses, few people can resist you.”
“Where are you going with this?” Oona asked crisply.
“And especially in terms of intelligence levels,” KC continued just as crisply, “you are well past most human beings.” KC sipped her coffee, and looked like she had had a bit too much caffeine. She looked directly into Oona’s troubled eyes. “I believe you use the term ’ma chère’ to passively assert your dominance over others. You so matter-of-factly address people in this manner because of who you believe you really are. Your use of the term ’ma chère’ is, quite frankly, condescending to me.” KC took a breath and continued. “And it’s jarring that you can so cluelessly traipse around this house, and use this term day-in and day-out because you truly believe yourself to be well beyond everybody else.” KC paused, and finally she said, “I know this is not without some justification, Oona. I’ll admit that.”
“Ma” – Oona began. “Please. Not now.” Oona looked away and headed for the coffee-maker.
“I’m sick of it!” KC continued. “And we will discuss this now. I am really sick of hearing it! And I’m sick of you saying it! So don’t call me ’ma chère’ anymore. It goes right through me, Oona. And if you haven’t heard me before, I am telling you now, most clearly: ‘Stop’!”
“You have not said this until now.”
“You are wrong!”
Oona gathered her restraint and tied a knot around it. “You are upset because of Trixi, are you not?”
“What about Trixi?” At once KC knew what had happened.
Oona stared frozen at KC. “The truth is: Trixi is a real beauty ma chère, and one who would never climax with another person…until last night, really just a few short hours ago, when Trixi got the royal treatment.”
“You seduced Trixi!” And in her mind, KC clearly saw what had happened to innocent Trixi: the naïve virgin. “So now you’re screwing Trix!” she continued. “You just can’t get enough, can you?” KC gave Oona an icy stare. “Really? The baby sitter!”
“Trixi is no longer a baby sitter, and she is now a young and very beautiful woman.”
“You’re too much!” You’re incorrigible! You are a…sexual predator!”
“Trixi is grown up now, KC. Get over it! Your precious ‘baby sitter’ is eighteen now.” Oona turned to exit the kitchen. “She is a woman, really. And we were not ‘screwing’.”
“Then what were you doing?”
Oona paused in mid stride. “We made love…all night.” She smiled her smile to KC which, to her, looked like the face of evil itself.
“What?” She had dreaded hearing that. “And what do you know about making love? You’ll screw – yes, screw – anything that walks!”
“Not true, ma –” Oona straightened her back and resembled an annoyed teacher. “Please, relax KC,” and she flashed her smile again. “As I said, ‘get over it’.”
KC climbed back onto her barstool chair. “You probably even screwed my husband.”
“Certainly not true! How could you say such a thing?”
“Why not? Wasn’t he handsome enough or beautiful enough for you? You probably did have a hand in his death, didn’t you?”
“I say it again: ‘Certainly not’!” Oona shouted. She next tried to change the subject. “KC, it is you I love and the one person with whom I want to make love. I came here to Westbridge…to settle down.”
Except for those fleeting thoughts felt by anyone, the idea of physical love was well beyond KC’s normal imaginings, reserved, if at all, for those rare moments of deepest, and truly special, fantasies.
“Who do you think I am? Cherry Jones?” KC was no doubt struck by Oona’s beauty, but did not love Oona in the romantic sense of love. “You make me sick,” she said. “You’re so full of…something.” KC was in a rage. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore! Get out of my house!”
“This is why I chose to nanny for you,” Oona strongly protested. “It is the strength of my desire for you that permits me the strength to carry on. Yes, Trixi was a wonderful experience, and still Trixi is nothing to me. And for that, I am sorry.” Oona felt vulnerable now and adjusted her manner to restore some sharpness of spirit. “Where is the girl now?”
“I thought you said she’s a woman? Your humor is disgusting, Oona. Get out of here! Get out!”
“I have shared my experience, yes, and have shared it with so many people of all shapes, sizes and persuasions. And for that I shall never apologize. Not to you, not to Trixi, and not to anyone. I rarely love my partners, and I lust for sex with multiple partners; yet it is you I still desire before anyone else.” And the vulnerability returned to her.
“Get out!” was all she heard from KC.
Oona turned away and knew now more than ever that her unrequited advances and desires, even her supposed love for KC, would change; everything had been utterly rejected. Oona hesitated to say anything more. She had come north to fill a vacuum of loss left by a good father and husband in bequest to his wife and children, that she might fulfill the needs left by a dead father and husband. To be honest with herself, Oona struggled to break through the thickening smog of self-absorption. She knew she did it to fill a vacuum deep inside her own heart and her own life. And at both, she failed miserably. Oona was resigned now to what had happened. And she knew she could no longer put up with the arrangement anyway. It was time for her to walk away from the family, at least for now. And she quietly left the kitchen.
“What has happened to this house?” cried KC.