Arcadia Novel – After my mother abandoned me, I was taken by my handsome stepbrother and strong stepfather. I could feel my stepbrother’s thick, long shaft ramming hard inside me. I wanted to moan, but my mouth was already filled with my stepfather’s shaft. My stepfather slapped my face with his thick, long shaft and gently stroked my head. “Daddy’s puppy is so adorable? You can eat two big shafts.”
Tate Mom will come back. We haven’t flown all the way to Nice for nothing. I stand with my suitcase at the front of the airport, staring at the text messages on my phone. Mom said Jerome—my new step-dad—drives an old dark blue ford pickup truck, and I watch the smooch and go zone intently for any sign of that car. But then it occurs to me that Jerome doesn’t know me, and might not even be expecting me. Mom dragged me out of my final school term just to go on this impromptu trip. She’s been full of surprises lately. I don’t know if it’s a mid-life crisis or what, but first she became obsessed with technology detoxing and health and wellness, then she met Jerome on a business trip and had a wedding out of the blue. She was busting at the seams to get back to France. Saying it will be good to get away from technology, to bond as a new blended family. That didn’t sit right with me. For one, I’d never met the guy. And two, this wasn’t like mom at all.
Couldn’t she wait till I finished graduating? But right now, my mom’s not here and I don’t know what Jerome looks like. She’s always talked about him. But I don’t know if she’s done the same for me to him. My gut twists and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. There’s no use in getting anxious, my mom always shows up after she’s wandered off, and I fret over it for nothing. It’s just who she is. I school my features into calm. French words are thrown around me as people greet their loved ones while moving to their cars, or exchange tight hugs and goodbyes. I may not speak French, but I can tell that’s what they’re saying. I feel empty, but I can’t look away. “Tate?” A man stares down at me, and for a moment I can’t respond. Something about tall, older men intimidates me—and this one is pushing six feet and has the muscle mass of a bull. He looks like he just stepped out of the woods working in the sun all day with his tanned skin, short cropped dirty blond hair, and beard. His brow is furrowed, and his green eyes are frozen on me like he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.
This must be Jerome. “Hi.” The line between his brow deepens. “Where’s your mom?” My throat constricts. “I thought you would know.” I force the words out, finding it hard to speak against the rising panic. If she’d made other plans, Jerome would have to have known. I’m always the one left in the dark. “She texted me: go ahead, I’ll meet you at the country house.” Jerome looks around as if to spot my mom, but when he can’t, a muscle in his jaw jumps. “Okay. If that’s what she told you, we’ll head to the house.” His body briefly brushes into mine and I stumble back as he takes my suitcase. My mind is spinning so much that I’m not even paying attention to my surroundings. Jerome cocks his head to the truck. “Go hop in. I’ll put your stuff in the boot.” I nod, biting my lip I head to the passenger side and buckle in. That was embarrassing, and now I have to spend a whole car ride with someone I don’t know. I wish my mom was here. When Jerome jumps in and the truck starts, the radio blares to life and it makes my nerves lessen. At least there’s something to drown out the silence.
He drives out into the departing traffic, and we slowly make our way out of the airport onto the main road. “Does your mom always do this sort of thing?” I almost smirk at that. Jerome doesn’t know my mom if he’s asking me this question. But I suppose it’s hard to tell when their relationship has been short and long distance. Despite the anxiety still simmering in my system, I nod. “It’s not surprising. My mom’s missed my student teacher meetings a few times because she forgot to tell me she had other things on. She used to lose me in the shopping mall or supermarket as a kid too.” Jerome frowns at that, but doesn’t push it further. “Has she been weird lately?” The only thing that comes to my head is mom wanting to bring me here. I turn the question back on Jerome. “Has she been weird to you?” He chuckles, and I notice his cheeks dimple. “Yeah. She agreed to come here with you.” After Jerome says it, his eyes flicker, realizing how awkward that sounded. But then he continues in a clarifying tone. “I can barely convince Bianca to do anything.
But as soon as she found out my house is in the middle of nowhere—no signal or Internet—she jumped at the offer. That’s strange for you city girls.” He’s right. But then I turn over what Jerome said, and realize he was the one who suggested coming here to France—that he suggested to bring me along. Something in my chest swells at that, and I look at him. Maybe Jerome’s not so bad. He just looks big and intimidating. From the way my mom spoke about him, he was a gentle and passionate man. I didn’t picture him to be so… gruff. “Just because we’re city girls doesn’t mean we can’t survive in the country.” I murmur, crossing my arms and sinking down into the seat. I hate the preconceived notion that just because we live somewhere in the valley we can’t survive without our Jimmy Choo handbags and pumpkin spice lattes. “I can like, totally do that. Y’know?” I say, laying it on thick. Jerome laughs. “We’ll see. Either way, I think you’ll enjoy it.
I believe slowing down from our fast paced lives is important, it give’s you time to reflect and learn more about yourself.” Tenth grade retreat in the Adirondack mountains feels like the closest thing I can compare. We were supposed to look inward and think about what we wanted to do better in the future, but my experience was awful. None of my friends were at the retreat, and I felt so alienated from everyone else. There was no privacy in a shared bunk room as I cried in my bed pretending to sleep. Not something I want to feel right now. “Do you live out there?” I ask. “Like permanently?” “Technically it’s a Charterhouse, and I’ve been living in it for the last six months. I’ll make it a holiday rental, but it needed some restoration. It’s done for the most part, so I’ve been building a separate lodge with my son.” I give Jerome a look.
“I didn’t know you had a son.” He gives me a half smile. “You’ll meet him soon enough.” Jerome focuses on the road, letting our conversation dissolve. I gaze out the window, and about thirty minutes into the drive, the scenery starts to change. Gone are the skyscrapers and metropolitan streets of the city, grass fields stretch out in a vast landscape of gentle valleys and hills. The June sun burns bright pouring into the window, and I close my eyes. I know once I step out of the car, the chill from the AC will be dearly missed. This is the perfect weather for a swim. The car jolts as we begin ascending to higher ground. Among all the greenery, I spot signs of a provincial village nestled below two cliffs. A canyon crosses it’s center, stone buildings scatter up the cliff face a hundred meters high. “Moustiers is the closest village.” Jerome begins. “I come down for the market, but there’s also cafes and shops if you want to visit.” “It’s beautiful.” I breathe.
I could think of nothing better than spending the rest of your life in a sleepy mountainside village. It’s picture perfect, just like the movies. I’d like to visit. I turn my head back facing the front, and I can feel Jerome’s eyes on me. Why is he staring at me? “I know.” He says softly, eyes back on the road. Once the village ends, we drive around the mountain shrouded by juniper and oak trees. The forest seems to go on forever, and then I wonder how does someone live out in the middle of nowhere? Jerome can only get so many things from a food market. What about bigger things, like in an emergency or something? I quirk a brow at him. “How rural is your place, exactly? Tell me you have hot water, please.” Jerome snickers, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Yes, princess. We have hot water. And there are no neighbors in sight—unless you count the trees.”
I release a breath. Thank god. I can survive without Internet, but not without decent indoor plumbing. Did he just call me princess? Or was he just teasing me? Either way, I turn to look out my window so Jerome can’t see the small smirk stretching my face. We finally pull up a long gravel driveway, and he cuts the engine. I look out the windshield, mouth hanging open in awe. I turn to Jerome as if he should explain why such a beautiful home is here hidden out of sight. Jerome only chuckles at me. “Come on.” I exit the car, following him as he drags my suitcase to the front doorstep. It’s a lot cooler out here than I expected, with the front of the house mostly shaded by oak trees. It’s a long two story stone house, topped with red tiles.
Green vines creep up the side of the wooden front door, reaching to the second story windows, which all have blue barn door style shutters. The aged theme continues inside as we enter the foyer. Black and white tiles line the floor, and a wooden staircase leads up to the second level, but the walls are a pale green, almost white, with antique French molding. But I can see the paint is worn, and chipping in places. I arch my chin up to the ceiling, seeing a bronze chandelier. Jerome eyes me from the staircase. “Not seen anything like this in America, have you?” I blink, not realizing he was already up there.
“No.” I follow him to the second level. “Just in movies. How did you get this house?” “It was my uncle’s. He died sometime ago, and it was passed down to me—” Just as I reach the last step, I trip almost face planting into the floor. Jerome grabs me, stopping the fall. I grip his corded forearms tightly, heart pounding in my chest. “You okay?” He asks. I look up into his face and nod, averting my eyes. I shouldn’t be blushing at my mom’s husband. He lets go, and continues down a hallway, sunlight pouring through the open windows.