By Romi
DISCLAIMER: I don't own SeaQuest. The Hollywood gurus got there before I did. I don't have any relation to the characters, I don't claim the characters (except Jena. She's mine. I do own her, so there. :oP), I don't make any money, and this is rated G for serious fluff. ^_^
This is for all the ELFers who have made Lucas' life a living hell. My psycological analysis of you is going well, and I expect to have a full report by monday. So this one is for you lot, that's right, you who would shoot him and cause him pain, you who would bring him to his knees with agony and emotional turmoil that would leave a stronger man crying, you who would....ok, I'm stopping before the hate mail arrives. *pushes the soap box back to the wall*
Laidies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you the happy moments of the life of Lucas Wolenczak as seen through the eyes of his caretaker, Jena Ravenwood.
Wednesday, June 26, 2003. 9 am.
Things hadn�t been going so good for me over the past few weeks. So far I�ve managed to get myself in debt with the local junior college, make enough money from my dead-end job to pay the rent and utilities of my one bedroom apartment, and my boyfriend left me a week ago for a pretty little blond chick in the suburbs of some hick town in the northern region of Connecticut.
The life of a 20 year old drama major was the envy of everyone in advanced improv. Too bad it�s my life.
I set out this morning with the intention of pulling myself out of this rut of existence and find something worth living for. Today is the day I decide to check the want adds over a donut, coffee, and my faithful cat, Alex, one more time. The little tabby rolls over onto the sports section and blinks yellow eyes wantonly up at me while his tale flops idly from side to side over a picture of 'The Babe' proudly holding a baseball bat by his side with his biography displayed underneath. He mews questioningly at me and I know he wants to play.
"Not now, Alex," I shoo him off. He jumps off the table, taking half the paper with him. "Oh, no--Alex." Quickly I grab for the papers, catching a few sheets in my hand and placing them back on the table. "Bad kitty."
He tilts his head to the side and meows again before setting his attention on one of the many toy mice laying around the house.
I read the paper to the jingling of a tiny bell rolling across the floor. Irritated that I hadn�t found anything besides housekeeping jobs and grunt work--the likes of which I had the credentials for since I was still a college student--I set down the coffee and lean back, stretching my arms above my head, steadily feeling this was hopeless. My eyes wander and I find myself glancing down as the �mouse-on-a-ball� rolls over the other papers on the floor, followed by the kitten. I pause when something catches my eye. A bold article heading was half covered by another paper. So I pick it up and lay it out in front of me.
WANTED:
Experienced Child Care Giver.
Must be good with children, certified in CPR
and over 18yrs.
Well, I qualify for that, so I read on...
Able to maintain authority.
Flexible hours and good pay.
PERMANENT POSITION UNTIL OTHERWISE NOTED.
Please apply in person @
41268 Kamaline Rd, Grand Island
Buffalo, NY.
Contact L. Wolenczak
This is perfect! It�s exactly the position I was looking for and includes most of the things I love--flexible hours and children. Not only is it near where I live, and if the pay is as good as it insinuates, I�ll be able to pay off my student loan and save up for NYU. I can�t believe my luck. Quickly I grab a pair of scissors, cut out the add, and stick it to my fridge with a magnet. In less than 30 minutes, I had showered, dressed, had my hair and make-up done, and was wearing my smartest business suit. I glance at my watch--9:45 am. I�ll have enough time to go pick up something sufficient for breakfast, call Dominique and tell her to take a reign check on our tennis match, and make it to the Wolenczak�s around 11. Removing the add from the fridge, I slip it into my pocket and grab my purse.
"Well, Alex, wish me luck."
Alex meows and rubs against my nylon legs affectionately.
"I�ll be home tonight, ok?" I scratch his head, listening to that loud kitten motor, and open the door. "Be good." With that, I leave the apartment, down the stairs, and out to my car.
Wednesday, June 26th, 2003. 11am.
�Right on time,� I think as I climb the steps to the Wolenczak�s front door. The house is beautiful, off-white stone with rounded corners, two stories trimmed in foggy gray and dark blue, and offering a gorgeous view of the Atlantic ocean from the backyard--which I image to be huge and just as rich as the house. Surrounding me is a sloping manicured garden clearly dealt with by a true gardener, and through it a cement path winds to the marble steps in scalloped rises, ending at a beautiful white oak door bearing a circular window.
Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for a rigorous interrogation, I ring the doorbell. Only moments pass before the door opens to reveal a young woman around my age dressed as a well-to-do housekeeper.
"Can I help you?" she asks me in a dignified voice clearly harboring a Russian accent.
"Yes, I�m here to see Mr. Wolenczak about the add in the paper." I present the add and hope my answer was efficient enough to at least let me in the door.
The woman opens the door wider and steps aside. "Please come inside. Mr. and Mrs. Wolenczak are currently unavailable at the moment, but you may wait if you wish." her curt manner takes me off guard for a split second. Hopefully an unnoticeable one.
"Please," I nod my thanks and walk inside. Immediately I�m taken by the decor of the home. The inside walls and shelves contain a mix of science, art pieces, and things more technological than in a standard home. Things I could have sworn belong to NASA are imbedded into the wall niches, photographs of old family members hang around them--some faded with age--and a beautifully woven carpet spreads out along the smooth ash wood floor that stretches down an equally decorated hallway. The foyer in which I was standing is round with two half moon steps leading down into the rest of the house. Whoever lives here must really know how to rake in the dough.
"In here, please," the housekeeper instructs me and I follow her into a square sitting room. In it is a cherry wood coffee table, two plush chairs and a couch on either side, and on the far wall is a fireplace carved into the wall. Even the fire was electronic. Along the walls, I see signs of artifacts, new science, and even a touch of comfort in the home.
"The Lady of the house will be with you shortly."
Before I can turn around and thank her, she�s gone into the kitchen, which I assume to be just as grand. As I look around, I start to wonder just what �good pay� actually meant.
Ten minutes and a cup of tea later, I hear the sliding doors to the sitting room open and a trim woman with blond hair enters. Immediately I noticed her attire as being that of one associated with the business end of the law. �A Lawyer,� I think to myself. Fitting for a decor like this. But the room holds a different feel as soon as the woman walks in and I think that it resembles a kind of warmth emitted by new love.
�Please, don�t get up.� she says and walks over to the couch, sitting down. So I remain in my chair. �My name is Cynthia Wolenczak.�
�Jena Ravenwood,� I take the hand offered to me and shake it, all the time using my skills as an actress to remain cool and confident.
�It�s nice to meet you, Jena. Isabel tells me you discovered our add in the paper,� she begins lightly and crosses her legs, adjusting her purple suit-skirt.
�Yes,� I answer, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. It�s the first interview I�ve had in months since landing that job at a local Days Inn seven months ago.
�Well, first of all I�d like to know of your experience. What expertise do you have in the field of child care?�
�Well,� I hope I remember all this as I practice on the way over, �I have 4 nieces and nephews who I�ve had to baby-sit since they were toddlers. The oldest is 10, now. I am trained in CPR, the Heimlick, and emergency first aid--which came in handy with the four of them.� I smile, hoping the joke lightens the atmosphere. Luck be it, she smiles too. Tactic one achieved--broken ice. I withdraw my credentials from my purse and hand them to her. She takes them and looks them over like a new case presented by a judge.
�It seems these are current, and marked exceptionally well by your instructors.� she muses. I feel like I�m on trial.
�Thank you.�
She hands them back and regards me with cool eyes. �My baby means the world to me, Miss Ravenwood, and so I have to be careful with whom I choose to look after him. So, let me hear something about you. What are your likes, dislikes, hobbies.�
I shift slightly in my chair, making sure I appear comfortable. �Oh, well, I play the piano, I�m good with children, I�m told I have a sunny disposition by people at work, my favorite food is shrimp scampi, I don�t like rap, and my favorite color is blue. I�m also an avid reader.�
�Interesting,� she answers. I wonder what she means by that? �What subjects?�
�Science fiction, mysteries, a good poetry book now and again. In fact, I have a book I think your child would love.� I smile, wondering if she caught the sense of caring in my voice.
�That�s all well and good, Miss Ravenwood, but are you willing to undertake the care it requires to look after a child while my husband and I are away?�
�Oh, yes ma�am.� My answer is resolute.
Cynthia smiles and nods her head. �You sound like a well rounded young woman, and I�d like to try you out for a week. If in that period I find your work adequate, you�ll be hired on full-time.�
I release a breath I hadn�t realized I was holding. �Thank you, Mrs. Wolenczak. I appreciate it, and I won�t let you down.� I make my words sound as convincing as I can, because if I don�t land this job, I�m out of luck for rent next month. Which means Dominique will be getting a roommate for a while.
She stands and I join her. �I�m sure you won�t,� she says and glances at her watch. �I have a meeting to attend in 15 minutes, so if you can, I�d like you to start right away.� she starts for the door.
Her words halt my train of thought. �Immediately?� I repeat and lift my eyebrows, fearing I sound like an idiot.
�Yes. Is there something wrong?� her question is curious, not demanding.
�Oh, no, no. Nothing�s wrong. Just caught me by surprise, that�s all,� I smile and regain my composure. This job wasn�t slipping through my hands without a fight.
�Good.� Cynthia�s smile returns. �If you need anything, just ask Isabel. Lucas is upstairs asleep in his crib, so try not to wake him; the poor dear�s been up all night.� I catch the caring in her voice and wonder how much sleep she got. This woman is just a new mother in need of extra help. So I follow her to the door where she picks up a brown attach� briefcase. �I�ve left a list of things that need to be done, but most importantly is that you take care of my son when I can not.�
I nodded, promising to myself to do just that. �I promise.�
�I�ll be back around five. Make yourself at home.� evidently satisfied, she leaves me standing in the foyer and walks out the door, closing it behind her.
I hear the fancy car in the driveway pull out down the street and take a deep breath.
This is going to be a long day.
Carefully I open the door to the child�s bedroom, making sure not to make a sound. The door remains silent, as do my footfalls on the soft gray carpet. I walk up to the crib and peer inside.
Beneath a bundle of blankets, safely tucked away and sleeping soundly, is a small six month old boy with light blond hair beginning to grow down to his tiny ears, and a face so innocent, so unspoiled by the harshness of reality that I suddenly wish for those demons to remain outside this room and away from the child within. He clutches a simple brown teddy bear against his chest and happily sucks on his thumb, making little suckling noises. I know from years of baby-sitting that children like to do this for comfort, and the motion lulls them to sleep.
I find I can�t stop my hand from reaching down and tenderly stroking his soft blond head. �Lucas,� I muse softly so as not to wake him and run the name over in my mind. �Yea, it fits you. Did you know that�s one of my favorite names?�
His hold tightens on the teddy bear and he curls up, then relaxes further into sleep.
�Ya know what, Lucas?� I whisper, leaning lightly on the crib railing. �Me and you, I think we�re gonna get along just fine.� I smile and gently brush a swatch of loose hair away from his sleeping eyes. Images of who he could be, what he�ll be capable of flash through my mind and sink into my memory as wishful dreams. �Your mom expects me to take care of you when she can�t be here, and that�s exactly what I�ll do. I promise." I smile. �We�re going to have so much fun together, you�ll see.� My index finger traces lightly along his cheek while he breaths peacefully. �You�ll see,� my voice softens and I lift my hand. He lets out a small moan, gets a better grip on his thumb and the bear, and continues to sleep. Quietly I take my small camera from my purse and take a snap shot. He stirs lightly, but soon stills. My first picture of Lucas Wolenczak. There would be more in the future.
Right then I know my life will never been the same. But as of right now, I can�t see beyond five in the afternoon.
Tuesday, October 9, 2006. 9pm.
It�s been three years since the Wolenczaks� have accepted me into their family, although it�s not been without sacrifices. I�ve had to nearly give up all my weekends because Little Bit�s parents are always working late, or trying to get away from the stress of work, each other, or even their son. So I discovered quick to always be there for Lucas on the nights when he�s left alone--like tonight. So much for a wild and crazy night life.
�Little Bit� is the nickname I�d given him ever since I found out he was exceptionally adept at technology. For his 3rd birthday last year, I got him a small PDA for kids and watched, stunned as he took it apart, peered intently at the motherboard, and put it back together. I was even more stunned to find out that it still worked.
I watch him sitting on the floor fiddling with a simple logic puzzle, sifting through the rods which lie in a pile beside him. A crackling fire warms the house from its safe indented hearth in the wall, and the closed windows protect us from the savage wind howling outside. My cat Alex is curled up on the rug in front of the fire, asleep. The Wolenczaks� let me bring him over on the nights I have to sleep in their home, and the cat seems to get along with Lucas, although the toddler has a fascination with tugging on Alex�s tail.
To occupy my time until the Wolenczaks� get back, I�ve resorted to writing a piece of music for my advanced music theory class. It�s coming along. Nothing worthy of Beethoven, but I�m sure it�ll pass and Mr. Johnson will let me move on to being a teacher�s assistant. Alex rolls over and stretches belly up on the rug.
I hum the tune-in-progress lightly, sipping occasionally from my cup of coffee. It�s getting late, close to Lucas� bed time. Where are his parents? I look at my watch--nearly 9:30--set down the piece of music I�d been fiddling with, and stretch my back. �Time to go to bed, Little Bit,� I yawn.
He looks up at me with big puppy dog blue eyes, his face pouty. I swear those eyes will get me every time. Normally a child�s eyes will change color as they grow, but his refuse to conform. They remain a piercing blue, as if you can see the spark of life flaring behind them. �I wanna finish. Pwease, Jena? Look-it, look-it. See it�s, um, it�s kinda done.� he holds one of the silver rods out to me in his little hand.
I glance at my watch again. �Alright. But just for a little longer. Then it�s off to bed.�
He smiles happily and goes back to solving the puzzle.
Only a few moments pass before I hear him again.
�Done!� he exclaims happily.
�Already?� I look up to find the entire logic puzzle--a 3D octogon--completely finished and with no mistakes. He didn�t ask for help once. �Very good. It looks great. And you did it so fast.� I get up and kneel by him, observing his creation then rubbing his mess of blond hair. �What do you say about a celebration snack before bed, hm?�
His head nods up and down like a bobble head, his eyes wide and his grin wider. �Ice cream?�
�Sure, why not?� I pick him up and set him on my hip like I�d done since he was six months old. He wraps his arms around my neck and holds on, confident he won�t be dropped.
�Daddy can see the puzzle,� he announces triumphantly.
�Yes, Daddy will love the puzzle.� I ruffle his hair lightly and head into the kitchen where I set him on the counter and spoon up a bowl of chocolate ice cream--his favorite. He dips his two little fingers in and sucks the chocolate right off, leaving little kid slobber on them.
�Jena?� he pulls his fingers out of his mouth long enough to say my name.
�Yes, Little Bit?� I scoop some ice cream onto a spoon and hand it to him.
He takes the spoon, not yet dexterous enough to handle silverware. �What were you singing?� he shoves the chocolate covered spoon in his mouth, getting most of it on his shirt.
I wipe it off with a rag. �It was a song I was writting. Do you wanna hear it?�
He nods, mouth full of ice cream.
So I start to sing the simple melody, adding words in here and there where they might belong. His eyes remain fixed on my green ones as he slowly swallows the ice cream. The soothing tune changes to a hum that progresses into nothing but improvised music, but by this time, I don�t think he really cares about the theory. His eyes start to drift closed, heavy and tired. He jerks awake, fighting sleep but the tune gradually lulls him back to it. Still humming, I pick up him--where his arms immediately go around my neck--and carry him upstairs. His head rests tiredly on my shoulder.
Once in the room, I dress him in his night cloths, lay him down on the bed, and tuck him under the covers. Though barely awake, he finds enough strength to reach both arms up at me. Wondering when this kid managed to grow on me, I lean over and give him a hug, then hand him Ridley, his teddy bear. Content now, he rolls over onto his side and curls up with the bear, quickly succumbing to sleep.
For a few minutes, I stay there, making sure he�s really asleep before lovingly kissing his cheek. �Sleep well, Little Bit.� I whisper. The door nor my feet make a sound as I quietly leave the room, glancing back at his still small form.
Something about the way his parents are acting recently--spending less time with Lucas, going off on more and more business trips--is making me wonder what�s going on during the times I�m not here. I know they love him. I�ve seen it before in the way Cynthia talks to him, but recently I�ve been coming over more and more, and last month I stayed the night two weekends in a row.
I shake my head. It�s probably nothing for me to worry about.
Back in the kitchen, I find that Alex the tabby has licked the ice cream bowl clean. I sigh and wash the dishes, putting them away and going back into the living room. I leave Lucas� door open so I can hear him if he starts crying.
Looking back at his puzzle, I remove my camera from my purse and take a snapshot. It�s things like these that I�ll remember him for. I�ve use loads of film on him already. I smile.
The hour strikes ten, so I stay up late into the night waiting for the Wolenczaks� to come home, and work on the whimsical tune. I think I�ll call it �The Piper�s Call.�