Chapter Eleven – Hostages
"Scrub, scrub, scrub – that's all I do," Amanda sighed.
Quentin was at work all day, she thought to herself. Why should he have all the fun? Even though she was a Victorian woman, some of the women's liberation movement made sense to her. She wanted to do more than housework and daycare. Sure, she was an actress, but movies never seem to ask for the motherly type nowadays.
As Amanda tackled the suds, Jamison played with a lone Cheerio left over from his breakfast. Quentin had rushed him to the hospital a month ago when his eyes started to change from doe-brown to baby blue. The doctor had simply laughed and told him that the eye color babies receive at birth is rarely one that will follow him to adulthood, and that blue is probably the color that will remain for life. Quentin may have been upset, but Amanda was secretly delighted – her tiny son would someday be the spitting image of his handsome father. However, the doctor did tell them that his teeth were starting to come in – and they were overjoyed.
Amanda looked back on her baby boy, who was in the process of securing the Cheerio between his finger and thumb, and placing it into his mouth. Smiling, Amanda returned to her dishes.
The front door slammed, alarming her. She perked her head up, and noticed her happy hubby approaching. "Hey, beautiful," he said, pecking her cheek. "And how's Jamison, the little stud?"
"I wish you'd stop calling him that," Amanda sighed, scraping crusted cheese off a plate.
"As long as you want him to look like me, he might as well act like me, too," Quentin said irritably.
"Why are you home early, honey?" Amanda asked tensely.
"I got a promotion," he said, grinning lopsidedly.
Amanda froze for two seconds, then squealed and leapt into his arms. "Really?"
"Yeah," Quentin laughed, "You're looking at a customer service advisor for the Collins Cannery!"
Looking up at her husband, she asked, "How much more a week?"
"Two dollars." Amanda stared at him disbelievingly. "I know, it's great, huh?"
"Oh, honey, I could kiss you!" Smiling at him, laughing, she kissed him on his mouth.
He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, then said quietly, "One gets you two." They kissed again.
At first, no one was paying attention to Jamison, who was gurgling silently at his highchair, but then as he looked at his parents, an internal struggle was finally fought and won: "Dada."
The pair looked at each other, shocked. Quentin knelt slightly to his son, and said, "What did you say?"
Jamison looked at his father nonchalantly, blue meeting blue. Once again, he said, "Dada."
Quentin straightened and smiled slightly as one would after winning the lottery. "Amanda did you hear that?" He whipped around to face her. "Amanda, he said, 'Dada'." He lunged toward her, holding her to him. "He said, 'Dada'!" Quentin separated himself just enough so he could lean down and kiss his wife.
That evening, after dinner, Quentin and Amanda were seated in the living room, Jamison on the floor, crawling around. The two were talking calmly, each keeping one eye on Jamison as he explored all of the living room.
"Want some more coffee, honey?" Amanda asked as she poured some into her own cup. They figured the coffee table was so high up that Jamison couldn't reach the scalding hot coffee pot placed above.
"No, thanks, honey." Quentin leaned back on the sofa, letting a tired sigh of contentment escape him. "I'm a customer service advisor." After a brief pause, he added, "And my son said his first word today."
"I know. It's been a magical day."
Coming forward and slapping his hands on his knees, Quentin said, "Well, isn't it about time you did the dishes?" Instantaneously, Amanda started to bawl. Shocked and worried, Quentin said, "All right, you don't have to do them. I'll wash the dishes, and you can keep an eye on Jamison."
"Honey, you don't understand!" Amanda said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I do this kind of grunt work every day! You get to leave, get out of the house! I'm chained to the house! I want out!" Quietly, she added, "I want a job, too."
Quentin furrowed his brow in thought. "Amanda, you have a job. You're an actress."
"Yes, but no one is hiring right now, and if nobody hires me, then I don't earn any money, and I don't get out of the house."
"You get to go to the grocery store, don't you?"
As Quentin cowed slightly under his wife's icy stare, no one noticed Jamison pulling on a cord, a very important one: the one hooked up to the security system Quentin and Amanda had bought to protect themselves from Petofi. No one noticed that the cord gave way, and no one noticed two shadowy figures emerging, taking advantage of the situation. By the time anyone could do anything about it, the intruders were already breaking down the front door.
Quentin stood protectively in front of Amanda, while she hurriedly scooped young Jamison into her arms. The door finally gave way, and Petofi and Sergio emerged from the splintered wood. "I demand my price now, Quentin; you've evaded my presence for too long."
"Not because I don't want to pay your price, Petofi," Quentin lied quickly, "I just need to figure out a plan sound enough to bring Barnabas to you. You know he'll never come on his own. You have to trust me."
"Yet Barnabas Collins trusts you," Petofi said, grinning, "There should be no problem in enticing him away from his house. Therefore, Quentin, I do not trust you, and I suggest that you retain Barnabas Collins immediately, or you shall all be my hostages."
Bravado beginning to rise, Quentin said forcefully, "And if we refuse, Petofi?"
"My payment shall be the boy." Amanda gasped and clutched Jamison even tighter to her heart. "Really, Quentin, you should give me more credit," Petofi chortled, "At least grant me the privilege of having half a brain."
"Why do you want Jamison," Amanda demanded softly.
"Every man needs servants, my dear. If I gain control of the young lad, I shall remove my cure, and make him susceptible to my demands, even in his – shall we say, his animalistic state."
"You wouldn't," Quentin hissed.
"Indeed, my boy, I would," Petofi said seriously, "I shall effect that plan this instant if you do not bring Barnabas Collins to me within the hour."
"What do you want with Barnabas anyway?" Amanda asked.
"I have a score to settle," Petofi said somberly. "Quentin, I believe your wife is anxious for us to leave – if you want your family intact, I suggest an immediate trip to the Old House."
Quentin looked over at his wife; her eyes were dewy with tears. Her eyes reached him so much, that he nodded to Petofi, and set out in the night to locate and betray his friend.
