Wrapped Around My Finger
Summary: Miss Sybbie Branson is tired of being in the nursery and she longs to see her Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. What's a girl gotta' do to get what she wants around this place? Great-Grandmama says that I can be as contrary as pleases me, and at the moment…I am not well pleased!
I knew if I cried loud enough and long enough, sooner or later, Nanny would get so tired, she would find him, maybe her, and I would have a nice afternoon. Either way, I would get what I wanted. And she did not disappoint me. Nanny finally gave in and scooped me from my crib, bare feet and all, and carried me down flight after flight of stairs. She made me a little nervous, to be honest. She was in a hurry and I was a little more jostled than usual when people carry me. Honestly, did she think I enjoyed crying that long? Anyway, I stopped for a few moments, but she started back up the stairs. Wrong direction, Nanny! So, I resumed my crying and she retraced her steps. Then, as we started down the last set of stairs, I heard his voice calling out to Nanny and I knew I was saved.
As soon as he came into sight, I thrust out my little arms as far as I could trying desperately to reach for the man they all call Carson. He took me into his arms and I immediately stopped crying. I always do that when he holds me, unless I have another motive. I love him and we have a lot of fun together, so I was hoping Nanny would find him.
He wrapped me in his big arms and carried me away, after some very serious sounding words aimed at her. She left in a hurry and we started walking through the house. He told me I was light as a little feather, but I'm still not sure what that means. But he smiled when he said it, so it must have been good. I so love it when he holds me. He's tall and I trust him to keep me safe. He'd never let me fall. He cuddles me close, and he always kisses my cheek and tells me how pretty I am. Sometimes, he will sing to me, but I usually have to do a lot of yawning for that to happen. Oddly enough, I don't think he ever finishes his songs. I can never remember them, and I often wake up in her room or back in the nursery.
He doesn't like to hear me cry, either. I learned that very quickly. If I so much as whimper, he starts talking to me and not in that silly baby talk that Aunt Mary and Uncle Matthew think is cute. No, Carson talks to me like a little lady. His voice is soft, like it is when she comes around. He doesn't talk that way to Granny or Grandmama, only her. I think they call her Mrs. Hughes, though I am sure I've heard him use something else … El … Eliza … no, that's not it. Umm, Elisabeth? Maybe, but that doesn't sound right either. Oh wait, I know … Elsie. Yes, that's it.
He talks to me in a soft voice that I've only ever heard when he is near Elsie. I don't think I'm allowed to call her by her real name since nobody in the house ever does. She must think Carson is really special since he can use her proper name. Maybe when I am old enough to start talking, she will let me choose a nickname for her. I already think of her as Gran so that would make Carson my Grandad, right? Yes, that sounds right to me. Maybe I should save my first words for them. I don't want Nanny to be the one to hear the very first thing I say. She would get it all wrong and wouldn't appreciate it. I just know it. She wouldn't swing me around, high above her head, or plant kisses all over my face, either. Heck, I bet she wouldn't even tickle me until I giggle and squeal. That's what Gran does, but only after Grandad has me laughing hard from flying so high above his head. Sometimes, she forces him to let her hold me, saying something about breaking me, but I don't think that's possible. Maybe it is, but they would never hurt me, so I'm not really worried about it.
I love her very much, too. She's soft and she doesn't call me Sybbie. She likes to call me her wee lamb, and I don't mind. I don't know what a lamb is, but I'm sure it must be something special. Carson always smiles when she says it. He smiles a lot when she's around, too. Now that I think about it, she smiles all the time when he's near. I think it's really sweet. I like it when they smile and talk to each other.
As we're walking through the house, he's telling me all sorts of things, and I try to pay attention, but his voice is so soft and deep that it is almost like a lullaby to me. I yawn and he starts to sing and he adds a little spring to his step, almost like a little bounce. If I'm not careful, I'll not hear the end of this song, either, and then all that crying would have been for nothing.
But he doesn't see what I see. She winks at me and places her finger to her lips. When she does that, I usually stay as quiet as possible. I think that's what she wants now, so I just watch her and she tiptoes closer. I play along and yawn again, and Grandad does what he always does. He starts singing another verse to the song. I rest my head on his shoulder and pat his cheek with my hand. Suddenly, he stops singing and I raise my head and look at him, face to face. His eyes are bright and his smile is so big. He's seen Gran and now she's coming over to us. Who knew crying so hard with Nanny would get me Gran and Grandad? I should have done that yesterday!
"Look, Miss Sybbie! Elsie has come to join us this afternoon. Isn't that lovely?"
He's speaking to me but I know he's directing his words more to her. It's funny, really. He's looking at me and she's looking directly at him. I wonder if he ever notices how she always looks at him when he speaks. I do it, too, but that's probably because he's holding me and I love to hear his voice. I'm just glad he doesn't ever yell at me. It would scare me to death. I just know it. But he uses his softest voice for me … and Gran.
"I thought I heard singing. My wee lamb, was it you I heard?"
Silly Gran! You know it wasn't me. It was Grandad singing FOR me, like he always does. I reach out my hand and she captures it in her own soft hand. She smells so good and I giggle when she kisses my little fingers. I reach out and hug her, but when she tries to take me from him, I lean back into his arms. I wrap my little arm around the back of his neck and pat him.
"I think she's trying to tell me something, Mr. Carson. Seems our wee lamb is mightily attached to you."
Do you blame me, Gran? I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. I don't know what it means, but I know it means something. It reminds me of how Grandpapa looks at Grandmama … sometimes. But since I see you and Grandad more, I think maybe they remind me of you. Yes, that must be it.
"Have you had her long, Charles? I heard from one of the maids that Nanny stormed out of the house mumbling something under her breath that sounded like your name and quite a few colorful adjectives."
She laughs and he stiffens for a minute, though he's still holding me gently, and then he's laughing, too. She always makes him happy. They must be cheerful even when I'm not around to help. I bet when I'm old enough to walk, I can sneak away from the nursery and go find where he stays during the day and visit Gran there, too. I bet she would give me milk and he might give me a biscuit or some cake. Hmm, I wonder if I yawn again, if he'll start singing. That would be nice. Yes, let's try it.
"Miss Sybbie and I have only been in here for five, ten minutes at the most. I was showing her a room she's never seen before and she started to yawn. I thought singing might lull her to sleep, but that's when you came in, though we're not complaining. We both enjoy your company."
Nice one, Grandad. Ohh, do you see how Gran's cheeks turned a little pinker? I think that was a very nice thing for you to say. You should say pretty things like that to her more often. Maybe you do and I don't get to hear them or see it happen since they keep me locked up in the nursery all the time. I bet you tell her she's very pretty, the prettiest girl in the house … well, maybe the second prettiest. You always tell me I'm your best little girl and I don't think you'd tell me a fib.
"Well, it's nice to hear I'm not intruding on your private tour of the house with the lady of the hour. She's yawning again, by the way. The wee babe must be exhausted after all that crying. Why don't you sit on the sofa and rock her to sleep while singing. I can tell everyone to avoid this room, if you'd like."
Yes, that's a good idea … wait, no! I don't want to go to sleep and I don't want Gran to go. I want you to sing to me and I want Gran to stay and I want to play. I want to fly and I want to be tickled and I want to hear you both laugh. It's the best sound in the world, especially when I'm close enough to feel the happiness as you laugh.
"I have a better idea, Elsie. Why don't you sit on the sofa and hold her?"
"Only if you'll stay with us. You know as well as I do that she likes you best. She wasn't begging for me to hold her a moment ago, so it's in our best interests if you stay. Isn't that right, my wee lamb?"
Oh, Grandad, she's got you there! She knows how to get you to do what she wants, just like me. Hmm, wonder if she's the one that taught me how to get you to do what I want? No, that's not possible, but you normally do whatever she asks so maybe there's something to it. I'll have to think on this later, when I'm back in the nursery.
"Very well. I am sure she'll be out like a light in no time at all. I'll stay and sing to her while you hold her. That should make her happy."
"Best of both worlds, I'd say."
I'll play along for now but I won't go to sleep. I just won't. I might miss something important. Gran is holding out her arms for me and after a quick kiss to Grandad's cheek, I lean over and fall into her arms. She's softer than he is, and she sometimes talks a little differently. If there are other people in the room, I don't hear her speak that way at all, but when it's just the two of them, there's a little accent. I'll ask her about that one day. Maybe she's from a far-away land, like in those stories Aunt Edith reads to me about princes and princesses.
Gran settles on the sofa and stretches me across her lap. I'm not so sure I like this. Grandad is so far away. I reach out my hands and he steps closer. He's so smart! He knows what I want without me having to go to difficult measures. He takes my hand in his and I pull as hard as I can. They both chuckle, and I must have done something right. She pats the seat next to her and he sits down, still holding my hand.
"I told you she adores you. You must seem like a big cuddly teddy bear to her, Charles."
"Elsie Hughes, what a thing to say!"
He blusters and huffs but I think he's funny when he does that. And he is smiling so I know he's not upset with her, certainly not like he was with Nanny. She's laughing so I decide to laugh a little, too.
"You think that's funny, do you, Miss Sybbie? Well, I'll give you something to really laugh about."
I can't help it. He's tickling me and Gran is trying to hold me so I don't slip out of her lap. He grabs my foot and now I'm really giggling. Oh no, she's joined in as well and I don't stand a chance. I am shaking because I'm laughing so hard. I love it so much. I love them so much. They finally stop and I am able to catch my breath as I'm drawn between them. I reach over and take one of his hands and one of hers, placing them both in my lap. His hand is on top of hers and I see how his fingers curl around her hand, almost like my hand does when I'm holding on to my favorite toy. I wonder if she's his favorite toy.
I yawn this time and not because I'm playing but because I'm getting tired. But I don't want to go back to the nursery. I want to stay and be held and have Grandad sing to me. I scoot into Gran's lap, but I keep his hand in both of mind, holding it tightly to my chest.
"Charles, I bet if you start singing softly enough, a little lamb will be out like a light in no time at all. You have such a way with her, you know. She loves you, and she knows you'll always be there for her. We all will."
What Gran is trying to say is that she loves you, too, and she will always be on your side. She very much wants to make you happy, like you work so hard to see me happy when I'm near. Maybe if I just take her hand and place it on your cheek, you will understand. And that's what I do. I watch your face, especially your eyes. They flutter, like the butterfly I saw the other day when Aunt Mary took me for a walk. Did you see that, Gran? You should touch his cheek more often. I bet he'd like that very much. Maybe he would return the favor and we could see what your eyes look like as butterfly wings.
I look from her face to yours and back again. There's that look again. I don't understand it entirely, but I know it means happiness and safety. I think she sees it, and you do, too. I stretch up and kiss her cheek. She laughs and coos at me softly. I reach up and kiss your cheek, too, causing you to tap the end of my nose. With your hands tightly held in my much smaller ones, I feel my eyelids starting to droop. Gran leans me against her and you stretch my legs across your lap. I'm so comfortable and warm, and now you've started singing. Briefly, I wonder if I'm going to wake up in her room or in my own nursery. I'm hoping you'll carry me downstairs so I can stay with you a bit longer. The last thing I see is you stretching your arm out behind her and drawing us even closer together, closer to you. I'm so glad you both love me, and each other, too.
Your soft voice is growing faint in my ears and Gran's fingertips are dancing lightly along my arms, my face, combing through my hair. I'll just close my eyes for a little bit and ….zzzzzz.
A/N: This post is a collaboration between Hogwarts Duo (Chelsie-Carson on Tumblr) and Batwings79. I provided the story and Batwings provided the gif-set, which can be found on her blog on . We hope that you have a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year and that you enjoy this little collaboration!