The Bad Boy's Muse

Coming to America 2.

Grace's POV

I stood at the JFK airport waiting for my aunt to come to pick me up. As much as it elated me to leave Bristol; I am still scared, still grieving and curious about the next stage of life now. After my Father's death a few days ago, we discovered he was owing quite a fortune and Uncle Sylvester and the family lawyer were looking for ways to pay up the debt. Although it will be very slow and rigorous, Uncle Sylvester had suggested that Mom sends us to relatives until the storm's passed so that no harm will come to us either from our debtors or society totally and since I am not married and will be eligible next season, it was probably for the best that I leave England and hoped that they forget by next year and thankfully, Father had not squandered my dowry.

Aunt Harriet was Mom's sister; arguably the black sheep of the family. Mom never talks about her and even when talks of her is brought up, her lips will form into a thin line and she would repeatedly mutter 'virgin Mary', making gestures of the cross with her hand. Miss Rose, my governess, had once told me that Aunt Harriet resigned from being a royal. Mom was from a family with low ranks and had worked tirelessly till she secured her position as a countess, as her dad was only a viscount. Aunt Harriet had run away at 16 when she was forced to get married to an older man all because he was a Duke, she had preferred the rough life of America to sit primely in a room filled with women whose will be their husbands. 

I had been so fascinated with her and when I was asked which of the relative; I wanted to go stay with; I had chosen her. I even nursed a little myth that I may be like her than one. At first, when Uncle Sylvester had called her and informed her about dad's death and my temporary visit as he had said it, she had hesitated until she finally agreed. Mom was too weak to protest and had only given me her blessings, with a lot of kisses on my cheeks.

My eyes travelled the length of the airport, trying to take in everything I could see, as later I would write about them all in a letter to Miss Rose. She still preferred the modern way of communicating. Many people kept staring at me and I didn't know why. I was happy that I had finally left England for America, but I was still sad that my Dad's death had to be the very reason. I miss him so much, too much. I couldn't believe I had to spend the rest of my life without his warm smiles and all of his gentle touch and whisperings. I would miss my dad so much.

"Grace?" a voice spoke from behind me.

I did a half pirouette towards the voice. Thank God for my ballet lessons. I was staring at the most beautiful woman on earth. The lady was red-haired with the greenest pair of eyes I had ever seen. She was tall, as tall as my mother, but she was curvier and freckled on her nose bridge. She pursed her full lips in disdain as she eyed me from up to down. She was almost naked. 

She was putting on trousers. A pair of jeans coupled with a blouse that stopped just a little below her breast. She adorned her ears with the biggest pair of earrings I had ever seen, coupled with red lipsticks, well-trimmed eyebrow (I was going to ask her, her secrets later) and a gold necklace adorned her necks all crowned with messy hair that looked like she just got out of bed.

"H-hello" I eyed her warily. She looked like the picture Uncle Sylvester had shown me when he was showing me the picture of my Aunt Harriet.

"Grace?" she called again, coming closer. Her lips curled into a smile, causing her dimpled cheeks to be visible.

"Yes, my name is Grace," I said demurely, stretching forth my hands towards her. It could be Aunt Harriet.

She came towards me and clasped me in a hug "I am your Aunt Harriet but you can call me Harriet" she whispered in my ears.

"How was your trip?" she asked me, still eyeing me.

"It was fine, though long," I answered with a gentle smile "I am so happy to meet you Aunt Harriet but I am so surprised you would know it is me. How did you know?".

"Sylvester sent me a picture on i********:, but I can say it was totally a waste of time as you're not too difficult to pick in the crowd. Did you dress like this?" she waved her hands all over the full length of my body.

"Yes," I replied, looking at my two-piece dress ensemble bodice and skirt. My mom had picked my outfit stating I needed to be comfortable.

"I bet it's Adele that helped in picking this outfit. It has her signature written all over her," she scoffed.

I gasped in shock at how freely she could call mom's name.

"How old are you, Grace?" she asked me with a smile.

"I am 15," I shrugged.

"Well, the first step in adjusting to an unfamiliar environment is ditching your mode of dressing. If you look at everyone in this airport, you'll discover that you're the only one with this strange-looking thing and I can imagine how people must have stared at you. This is America, most especially New York. We don't dress like this. So before I take you to the car, first, I would urge you to first drop everything that you must have learnt back in England. I mean everything except the good morals, of course," she hurriedly corrected.

"Here, we call people by their first names or Mr, Mrs, Miss or Ms So, I just wanted to give you a little orientation about this place," she smiled at me again.

"Okay, I understand A-a, Harriet," I quickly corrected myself and got rewarded with a full grin. 

"Welcome to New York, baby." she winked at me. 

***

"You live here?" I gasped in shock as we entered a driveway.

After driving through stunning architectures, trendy shops and chic restaurant. Nothing prepared me for the beautiful piece that stood in front of me. The house was beautiful and painted a light shade of burgundy and blue with hedges of flowers around it. The driveway leads directly to a garage which was connected to a living room. The living room was large; ash-coloured chairs, white curtains with white matching drapes and an off-white coloured rug adorned the sitting room. On one side was a gigantic fireplace that held a picture frame on top of it. 

"Welcome to my humble home," Aunt Harriet said with a quick swipe of her hand.

"This is beautiful," I murmured with awe, gazing at the Bengal cat that laid lazily on the couch. It spared me a glance and went back to sleep. 

"That's Mrs Mojo on the couch," she pointed at the cat lying on the couch "And there's a dog somewhere, he's name is Leo and come this way, let me show you to your room," she moved towards the spiral staircase at the end of the hall. 

We climbed the staircase and got to the first landing, taking our right. We walked a bit to a room whose door was wide open.

"This is your room" Aunt Harriet stood by the door, ushering me in "I didn't know what colours you like so I figured I'll wait till you come and if you like nothing at all, we can get it changed".

The room was enormous, bigger than my bedroom back in Bristol. They painted the walls with a combination of ash and white. At the centre stood a big, wide bed adorned with colourful covers. The walls had several abstract paintings, too.

"This is perfect, Harriet. I love it." I smiled my thanks.

"Alright, guess, I'll let you settle in then when you're done just come downstairs, dinner should be ready by then," she ruffled my curls.

"And Grace" she was at the doorway now "Don't be a stranger" she winked at me.

***

Harriet's POV

I tried to still my racing pulse. First, I had thought they would send someone younger and not a teenage girl who dressed like she was in a Cinderella movie set. I am sorry that my Sister Adele had lost her husband, and that is the only reason I had agreed to help. We haven't spoken for 9 years now; ever since I left the house. Although I had reached her severally, the relationship ties were severed. Now, 9 years later, I have to assume responsibility for my sister's child and I am freaking out. 

I am a 25-year-old who could barely take could care of myself and here I am, stuck with the responsibility of looking after a teenager. 

"Aunt Harriet?" a gentle voice called from behind me.

"Hey, Grace" I turned and stared at the young girl. She was beautiful, the replica of her Father. 

I knew how much Adelia had been in love with him, so when he asked her to marry him, she hadn't thought twice. Pity that wasn't how my story was.

"Can I used to phone to call home?" she clasped her hands in front of her, the vision of purity and innocence. 

"Of course hon" I fished for my cellphone at the back of my pocket and handed it over to her, making a mental note to get her a cell phone.

"Thank you." she smiled gracefully.

The call lasted for five minutes, only after which she returned my phone to me.

"How may I help you?" she stood at the kitchen island.

"Ever been in a kitchen?" I snorted. They did not teach English ladies to be in the kitchen rather, they trained them on acquiring skills to please their husbands and societies.

"Not exactly, but I can make tea and a sandwich." she frowned slightly.

"You know, when I first moved to New York for the first four months I was eating out because I did not know what goes on in the kitchen, but after I discovered I was spending almost all of my savings on food. I had to learn to cook and today I am pretty good at it. So, I am sure you will in good time but you can help me set the table." I smiled.

She floated around the kitchen, carrying plates, spoons, and forks to the table at one end of the kitchen.

"I am so sorry for your Daddy's loss. Sylvester told me you were closest to him and I can imagine how you felt," I started as soon as we sat at the table to eat.

"Well, I know he's in a better place." she shrugged.

"How do you feel?" I asked again.

"When Father died, I thought I won't be able to go through another day with that reality but then, I know he would want me to be strong I just regret that we could never do all the things he wanted to try out and that's why I miss him the more," she blinked back tears.

"It's ok to cry Grace" I reached for her hand across the table. She was trying to be brave.

She shook her head in a No. "I can't bawl". She sniffed.

"Well, you can. You're too young to be shuddering emotions. If you want to cry you cry, If you want to break the wall, kick at things, please do. I know we should control our emotions but not feeling them either is the worst and since this is my house, you can do as you please. So cry Grace".

I held her hands until the food got cold. Listening to every tale and plans she wanted to make with her father and all of her silent aspirations. I will not be the best of aunts, but I was definitely going to take care of this one like she was my own.