Garrett & Harley

By Cassandra Parker

Come Ride With Young Harley.
Share in his gleeful pranks, and adventures.
Cry with him during heartbreaking moments.
Ride with him as he journeys from childhood to young adult.
See how Garrett, Nanny,manservant, and mentor, and Harley grew into a father and son type relationship healing two battered hearts. Garrett gained an opportunity to experience fatherhood and Harley learned about selfless love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandraparkerbooks
• Release date: Dec 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005323547

Cassandra Parker

I love romance in all its multitude of forms. Romance is wistful, poignant, and classic. It makes the heart beat faster; it brings a twinkle to the eyes, a tear drop, and a smile. Romance is love, joy, pain, and loss. It is endearing and lasts throughout time for all eternity.I love hearing from readers. Please feel free to drop me a line at [e-mail]

Book preview

Garrett & Harley

Ride With Harley Series Book 4

Cassandra Parker

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Amanda, aka Catherine Ann.

Tina Schneider at The Ohio State University-Lima Campus. Your help in researching historical information on WOSL radio is greatly appreciated.

Neva Bland who listened endlessly to my stories about R. Harley.

R. Harley, my angel, this one's for you wherever you might be in the heavens. Not a day goes by that I don't wish you were here by my side. I will love you for eternity.

Acknowledgments

To Kim Williams for her editing, proofreading, and endless hours reading aloud while I followed along in print.

To Jennifer Reginato, who encouraged me to continue.

To Carsten Degenhardt, whose insights, encouragement, and friendship I cherish.

To Pat Johnson for her interest and many conversations about the subject.

To Amanda, Monica, Donna, and Dr. Douglas Webb, you know who you are. For encouragement and support.

Garrett & Harley

Chapter One

1976

WOSL Disc Jockeys

Garrett

Garrett, Mari said, settling on the rug beside Master Harley. Tell us about Harley as a child.

Oh, no! Master Harley groaned.

Hey, Harley! March chuckled. All your secrets are about to be revealed.

I bet he was a devil, Peg reached for a cookie.

See if I invite you guys over for a weekend again, Master Harley teased.

Please, Garrett? Miss Mari pleaded.

With delight, Miss Mari. I closed my eyes and thought back through the years.

***

1951

Garrett

"1951, the year Master Harley was born, became a banner year with unemployment dropping to 3.3 percent. Families could afford to send children to dance and music lessons. Many people bought new and bigger cars.

Music was transforming from Big Band and Country to a new form called Rock and Roll. Parents frowned upon this unique style calling it provocative and inappropriate. The crooners were still popular, but teenagers found a voice all their own. They went to concerts in droves and danced and sang through the night. Jukeboxes were in every diner. My friends and I spent my last weekend in New York City dancing to songs on the Juke at our local cafe.

My favorite songs that year included 'Because of You'

by Tony Bennett, 'Too Young' by Nat King Cole, and 'Kisses

Sweeter Than Wine' by The Weavers. Many notable movies

were released. I remember going to see 'The Day the Earth Stood

Still' with friends in New York City. The line at the movie

theater stretched around the block. It was the day before I was to

begin my new position with the Davis family. I rushed from the

theater, picked up my bags at my friend's home, and headed to Boston."

September 1951

I remember the day Baby Harlan arrived in this world. It brought back memories of the birth of my son, Nachton. Unfortunately, my son was less than a week old when he died in 1946. Master Harley was born on September 19, 1951. It was a warm, clear day at 78.1 degrees.

I knocked on the door. It was my first day working for the Davis family. Their principal residence was in Sagaponack, New York, but they were visiting friends in Boston. I reported for duty with trepidation at the grand residence of Kenneth and Mildred Gauthier.

I was the butler, chauffeur, and head of the household staff for the Davis family in my new position.

Yes? The Gauthier butler answered.

Garrett Geadasach Geddes reporting for duty with the Davis family. I nervously twisted the cap in my hand. This was only the second position I ever had in the United States of America.

You are expected. Mistress Davis is in the drawing-room. I shall show you to your rooms. Afterward, I will take you to Mistress Davis. Mister Davis had to leave unexpectedly to handle important matters in New York City.

Aye, I nodded and picked up my tattered bag. I followed the servant to the back of the house where the servants' rooms are. My room was small and unadorned. It was furnished with a single cot and dresser upon which sat a washbasin. A blanket covered the sheets. I set my bag on the mattress. I'm ready.

Follow me.

I was led back to the front, down a wide corridor to a room. I couldn't help gawking at the blatant display of wealth from the tapestries to oil paintings and curiosities, including the famous nesting eggs.

Mistress Davis, the servant said. Your new chauffeur is here.

Good. You need to drive me to the hospital. This baby simply will not wait.

Mistress Davis was huge with child and in obvious discomfort. Yes, Madam, the butler said.

Has your husband been notified? I asked.

He's not in town. Nor would he care. He's convinced this baby is not his. Mistress Davis panted.

Her answer shocked me. The revelation meant one of three things. She was newly pregnant when she married Mister Davis. She had an affair shortly after her marriage. The conclusion was the child was his, and Mister Davis was mistaken. I hoped for the latter.

Do you have your bag, or should I retrieve it for you?

It's by the door in my room, she panted.

In a panic, I glanced at the servant.

I'll retrieve it, the servant said. You get the limousine. It's around back. The keys are hanging in the kitchen. The butler nodded toward a pair of double doors.

How long has she been in labor? I asked, noticing the wet spot on the floor by the divan where Mistress Davis reclined.

About an hour. Mistress Davis wet herself.

She didn't wet herself. It's the fluid that appears immediately before the baby arrives, I said.

You have experience with birthing? The butler asked.

Only one, I replied.

One more than me.

Mistress Davis, I'll be right back for you. I hurried out the door toward the kitchen.

Within minutes I returned. By then, the Madam could not stand. I gently lifted her into my arms and carried her to the limousine. I had left the back-seat door open. By carefully maneuvering her, I placed her inside and instructed her to lay down.

As I drove, I frequently checked on her condition through the rearview mirror. Within half an hour, it was apparent we weren't going to get to the hospital in time. I pulled over to the side of the road and coached her in breathing and pushing.

Breathe, breathe, push, relax, became my mantra. I massaged her aching back and helped her into a more comfortable position.

Mistress Davis screamed every foul word I had ever heard and a few I didn't know. I was rather shocked at the language coming out of her mouth. I felt my face and ears redden with embarrassment.

I used the car phone to call the police and the hospital. I had to remove Mistress Davis' undergarments. It was another embarrassing moment in the annals of my twenty-five years of life. By the time the police and ambulance arrived, Baby Harlan had already put in an appearance. I had to tie off the umbilical cord and sever it with my pocket knife. I doused the blade with whisky, which I kept on hand to disinfect tools.

He had quite a set of lungs for someone so tiny. I wrapped him in my sweater to keep him warm. Holding him brought back the fatherly feelings I'd had for my young son, Nachton.

His name is Harlan Christian Robert Davis, Mistress Davis panted. I gently placed the newborn in her arms. She smiled down at the baby.

He is a handsome lad, Mistress Davis, I said while covering them with a blanket.

He is beautiful, isn't he? She kissed his cheek.

Yes, he is, I responded.

What is this yellowish white cheesy stuff?

It's venix, the ambulance attendant replied. It helps protect his skin.

I paced in front of the limousine while they took the vital signs and checked both mother and infant.

They were loaded into the ambulance and whisked to the hospital. I followed in the limousine. It would need serious cleaning, but I wanted to make certain the Mistress and baby were fine.

A few weeks after his birth, we returned to the Davis Estate in Sagaponack. I had never seen a mansion grander. With all the turrets and chimneys, flower gardens, and fountains, I believed the only estate more prestigious was the Vanderbilt mansion in Asheville, North Carolina.

October 1951

I walked down the hall toward the stairs carrying a tray. The wails of the infant, Harlan, continued. He had been crying for half an hour.

Where was the Nanny? I wondered and set the tray down outside the nursery.

Will you shut up?! The Nanny screeched, followed by a smacking noise.

I opened the door to see the woman striking the month-old lad. She grabbed him and shook his tiny body. Put him down! I thundered and stormed into the room.

The damn kid won't stop crying! She yelled.

I grasped her arm and hauled her out of the room. By the authority vested in me through the Davis family, you are relieved of duty. Pack your bags and get out!

I went to the baby. He had a red handprint on his face. Big tears flowed from his beautiful blue-gray eyes. I lifted him into my arms. From the smell, I could tell it had been hours since anyone changed his diaper. I got a warm moist cloth, clean diapers, and a change of clothing. Placing him gently on the table, I was shocked at the condition of his derrière. It was covered in a severe rash. Seepage caused the stench. It was no wonder he was crying. The poor laddie must be in pain. I proceeded to clean his bottom gently. I thoroughly dried him and applied a liberal dose of Mexsana, a medicated powder, to the affected area. While I was treating him, Mistress Davis entered the nursery.

I was informed you dismissed the Nanny. She crossed her arms and frowned.

Yes, Mistress Davis, I did. I caught her hitting Harlan. From the condition of his bottom, it is apparent the Nanny did not change his nappy today.

It took us weeks to find her.

Do not concern yourself, Mistress Davis. I am willing to assume the role of caregiver.

In addition to your other duties?

Aye, in addition to my other duties.

You'll not get an increase in your salary.

I understand. I am more concerned with the well-being of the baby.

Very well, then. You may move your belongings into the Nanny's quarters.

Yes, Mistress Davis. I finished dressing Baby Harlan and lifted him into my arms. I believe there is an unused suite of rooms better suited to our needs. I can easily turn the rooms into a nursery, playroom, schoolroom, and a bedroom for myself. This leaves the current nursery available for any other child you might bear.

Mistress Davis paced the corridor for several minutes before reluctantly accepting my proposal. Make certain his crying does not disturb any guests we might entertain.

Yes, Madam. I bowed and carried the precious baby down the stairs. I went into the kitchen and prepared a bottle. After making sure the milk wasn't too warm, I took Baby Harlan back upstairs, re-entered the nursery, and settled onto the rocker.

Oh my, you are a hungry wee lad, I observed the baby greedily suckling on the nipple. Did she not feed you?

I rocked him and softly sang an old traditional Scottish lullaby.

Flow gently, sweet Afton! Amang, thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise, My Harlan's asleep by thy murmuring stream. Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not his dream.

Baby Harlan hiccuped and gazed at my face. I was left with the impression this was the first time since his birth anyone showed him affection. I gently stroked his downy hair and caressed his face. His crying quieted. Soon he drifted into slumber.

I sat holding him and gazing at this sweet cherub. He reminded me of my son, Nachton, and how much I miss him. My wife, Caitriona, died giving birth. Nachton was born five years ago on the same day as Baby Harlan. I felt like I had been given a second chance at fatherhood by being Baby Harlan's Nanny. Gazing at the infant, I felt great feelings of tenderness wash over me.

I could not fathom how the Nanny could treat the baby so cruelly. He had done nothing wrong. His crying was because he was hungry, and the rash irritated his soft skin. Crying was his only way to communicate. Only a mean, nasty, uncaring person could hit him, leave him sitting in his waste, and not feed him. Poor baby! Outrage renewed itself in my chest. I vowed to keep this precious gift safe, warm and loved.

***

1976

WOSL Disc Jockeys

Garrett

So, my father thought I wasn't his. Master Harley steepled his fingers.

Aye, Master Harley. He believed your mother either tricked him into marriage or had an affair shortly after the wedding. I watched him contemplate my answer.

Well, Master Harley straightened his shoulders. It certainly explains why he hated me.

Hate is a strong word, Master Harley, I said gently. Shall I continue?

Please do, Master Harley replied.

***

1951

Garrett

Baby Harlan stirred in my arms when the call bell went off. I carried him into the sitting room where Mistress Davis was pacing.

Madam?

I need you to take me into town. I'm behind in planning for Thanksgiving.

Yes, Madam. I needed to find a way to carry the baby with me. Let me get his diaper bag and a bottle.

Do hurry.

Yes, Madam.

I fashioned a makeshift baby carrier in the nursery using a diaper I could wear around my neck and fasten to my side. With Baby Harlan secured, I grabbed his bag and made sure everything he might need was inside. In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle, powdered milk and one with water. I stuffed a few hand towels into the bag.

I'd talk with maintenance when I got back about relocating the nursery. I grabbed the baby carriage on my way out the door and stuffed it into the trunk of the limousine. I made sure Baby Harlan was nestled securely to my torso before I got behind the wheel. In retrospect, this was not a safe way to transport him in a moving vehicle. I resolved to find a solution to my child safety dilemma. Driving Mistress Davis around town shopping for items she wanted for the upcoming holiday season took most of the day. I dutifully carried her purchases and placed them in the vehicle whenever possible. While she dined in a restaurant, I sat on a bench outside and fed the infant a bottle. Toting the baby and his diaper bag was tiring. By the end of the day, I was exhausted.

***

It took two days to renovate the suites into a suitable nursery, playroom, and schoolroom, with my rooms accessible via double doors. I purchased quality furnishings, including a crib, dresser, and a table I could use to change Baby Harlan, a washbasin, a rocking chair, a mobile with planes, cars, and other toys. A teddy bear was mounted to his crib. The playroom had stuffed animals, a ball, and toy cars and trucks. The schoolroom was set up with a child-sized table and chair, chalkboard, books, paints, a globe, everything needed for a well-rounded education.

His bedroom was painted a light blue. The schoolroom was green and blue. The playroom was a bouncy yellow and peach.

My rooms held a large bed, dresser, a trunk, a desk and chair, a reclining chair with an ottoman and lamp. I had my own bathroom and an armoire. The color scheme for my room was forest green with teak wood.

I soon fell into a routine. At night I awakened every two hours to check on Baby Harlan, change his diaper, or feed him a bottle. During the day, I carried him in my makeshift baby carrier, keeping him secure to my body. He seemed to thrive on the comfort of my touch. I took to humming or softly singing Scottish songs while I attended to my duties.

By the time Baby Harlan was three months old, he had focused his attention on various objects. He smiled each time I entered the room. The infant grabbed my finger and pulled it to his mouth, and raised his head to look around. He especially loved chewing on a teddy bear I had purchased. He swiped at dangling objects and occasionally caught them.

When he was four months old, he began rolling over from his front to his back and vice versa. He laughed when I did something silly, like hold him overhead and dance. He loved grabbing and playing with toys. I supplied him with a variety of soft, round, wood, square objects he could manipulate.

At five months of age, I fed him his first solid food. I strained carrots and peas and mashed bananas.

Open wide, I coaxed and gently pressed a spoonful of banana to his lips.

He rolled the food around in his mouth. His eyes grew wider as the sweetness of the morsel tickled his tongue. Ah! Ah! He exclaimed and opened his mouth.

You like bananas, do you? I smiled as I put another spoonful into his eager mouth. His lips made smacking sounds.

He especially loved the carrots, peas, and bananas. I soon learned, he did not like messes. When I occasionally missed getting the food into his mouth, he squawked at me.

By the time he was six months old, he could sit up with pillows to prop him.

So, he's sitting up, Mistress Davis commented. She looked at her son with a hint of tenderness.

Aye, Mistress Davis. He pushed himself to a sitting position. I put the pillows around him to keep him from toppling over.

Is it a good thing? Him sitting up at this age, I mean.

Aye, Mistress Davis. It's a good thing. He's a wee bit ahead of schedule in doing these things.

Well, aren't you something? She cooed at the infant.

Baby Harlan stared at her and offered a tentative smile.

Oh, my! He's smiling at me. Mistress Davis exclaimed and lifted the baby. She made quite a fuss over him to his delight. What other things does he do?

He reaches, grabs, and swats at toys.

The wee laddie grabbed his teddy bear and pulled it to his mouth. He began sucking on an ear.

Oh, my! Mistress Davis cooed, Isn't he a fine baby?

He's excellent, Madam. Be proud of him. He's a sweet, good-natured child.

I am, Garrett. I'm proud of him. Mistress Davis tickled Baby Harlan's chin.

At age seven months, he began scooting on the floor. I bought a baby walker so he could sit in it and propel himself around the room. He followed me throughout the house. I had to make sure to carry him down the stairs.

Baby Harlan sat in his walker, watching me move around, straightening his room. In my peripheral vision, I saw a devilish grin creep across his face. He turned around, faced the door, and swung back toward me.

Don't even think it, I admonished.

A happy shriek escaped his lips. Off he went propelling himself as fast as his tiny legs could go. In a flash, he was out the door, headed for the stairs.

Harlan! No! Stop! I hollered and dashed after him. I managed to grab his walker before he reached the stairs.

My heart hammered in my chest, and my legs felt wobbly. Baby Harlan let out peals of laughter and giggles. I picked him up and headed for the dining room.

Mister Davis, I began, May I have a word with you?

The Davises had completed breakfast and were drinking coffee.

What is it you want? He continued reading the newspaper.

Your son is rather mobile. I wish to put a baby gate at the head of the stairs.

What on earth for? Mister Davis snapped his paper shut and took a sip of coffee. He stared at me.

To prevent Harlan from falling down the stairs.

And we'd have to open the gate each time we came up or went down the stairs. Absolutely not.

Dear, Mistress Davis intervened. I think it's a good idea. Don't you want to keep our son safe?

Humph! He picked up another newspaper and opened it. If you want it, go ahead. I, personally, hate the idea.

Thank you, sir! I carried the baby from the dining area.

Oddly enough, Baby Harlan went from scooting to standing and walking by age ten months. He never crawled.

He began talking at this time. His first word was bobo-an. I believe he was trying to say Boban, the Scottish Gaelic word for dada.

Bobo-an! Baby Harlan said and pointed to me. He sat in a highchair beside Mistress Davis.

Ah, no, lad. He's your Boban. I pointed to Mister Davis, who was nibbling on a slice of toast.

Baby Harlan made gurgling sounds and frowned. Bobo-an! He pointed at me.

No, child. I gently corrected him.

What is this bobo-an nonsense? Mister Davis demanded.

Ah...hem! It means dada in Scottish Gaelic.

He most certainly is not your dada, Mister Davis shook his finger at the boy. I am.

Baby Harlan sat in his highchair and looked from me to his father and his mother.

Mama? he pointed at Mistress Davis.

Yes, I'm your mama, she grinned.

Dada? He pointed to Mister Davis. He turned to me. Bobo-an, he declared, much to the disgust of his father.

I do not want you teaching him Scottish Gaelic. Do I make myself clear?

Absolutely, sir. I bowed.

You may take the child for a walk now, he said, dismissing me.

I lifted Baby Harlan from the highchair. Do you want to go for a stroll?

He kicked his legs and waved his arms, telling me he would like to go outside.

I carried him to the nursery, changed his diaper, and dressed him in a blue one-piece outfit. I grabbed his bag, made sure I had Similac Concentrated Liquid, a bottle, a change of clothes, baby powder, a canteen of water, and diapers. I put a knit cap on his head because it was still a bit nippy in April.

I carried him downstairs and placed him into the baby carriage in the foyer. We traversed the grounds where he watched the birds flit around, and squirrels scamper up and down the trees. He laughed when the creatures played tag across the lawn. I lifted him and sat with him on a bench. He gazed in wonder at the flowers and leaves.

I took him back inside when he fell asleep. His cheeks and nose were a rosy color. Oh, how I'd come to love the tyke.

Chapter Two

1976

WOSL Disc Jockeys

Harley

Mari carried a tray of finger sandwiches, and Flash brought a coffee cake to the living room. Garrett poured beverages. We all settled into our familiar places around the tables and helped ourselves to the snacks.

I closed my eyes in delight. Garrett makes the most amazing sandwiches. I was so lucky to have him.

Shall I continue from where I left off? Garrett asked.

Might as well, I shrugged. I hope you know; I'm never going to live this down! I chuckled. Truth be told, I enjoyed these stories as much as the rest of them.

***

1952

Garrett

In June 1952, his paternal grandparents came to visit. I learned Mister Davis's snobbish behavior did not come from them. They were accustomed to service night and day, but they were polite in their requests. I had to assign staff to dress, bathe, and do their hair. Meals were no different. They expected someone to cut their meat and pour wine when their glass was empty.

I'm telling you this metal workers strike can't be a good thing, Mister Davis was saying when I answered the door.

Sir? I inquired as I reached for two of their suitcases.

Over six hundred thousand metal workers have gone on strike. Whole factories may have to shut their doors. Mister Davis tsked.

I'll show you to your rooms. I beckoned to the grandparents to follow me.

Please do. And have the Cook send up a tray with tea and some delectable finger foods. Mistress Davis said, I'm famished.

I'll see to it right away. I set the cases in the room.

On my way to the limousine for the rest of their travel bags, I stopped by the kitchen and told Cook of their request.

Upon returning to their rooms, I found them in an uproar over the sandwiches. Cook cut the food in half diagonally instead of in quarters.

These are not prepared correctly. Please return the sandwiches and have Cook fix them. One can not eat sandwiches that are not quartered properly.

Yes, Mistress. Right away. I whisked the offending tray away and returned to the kitchen.

Did they not like them? Cook asked.

She wants them cut into triangles.

Oh, for Pete's sake! Cook quickly remedied the problem, and I took the food back upstairs.

In all fairness, the grandparents doted on Baby Harlan. They made a huge fuss over everything he did. The infant Harlan loved the attention. He cooed, smiled, and kicked his feet every time they entered the room. Grandmother Davis sat in the rocker for hours cuddling him, while Grandfather Davis made silly faces. When they left, Baby Harlan pushed himself in his walker, searching for them. Not finding these two people who showered him with love, he cried for hours.

***

Baby Harlan was ten months old when his parents took him to the Lodge in Lake George. The Harleys greeted their grandson with joy. They took him for long walks around the grounds and rolled a ball to him endlessly. Baby Harlan lapped up the love and used his walker to follow his grandparents around the lodge. Even his mother fussed over him while his father went to New York City to take care of