The Caretaker

Wild Encounter

"Sure, a rabbit would be perfect to enhance the celebration. Grandma looks so thrilled to have her grandson home," Ibha exclaimed and noticed the sudden change of expression on his face.

"Celebration, huh...If there's anything I hate the most then it has to be ...." He grimaced as his words faded in a grumble before he marched off through the back gates.

Wondering what had perturbed the old man so much, she walked back inside and searched the other two. She found them in the drawing room, Aaron was by the balcony talking on his cellphone while Mrs. Walker was decorating the platter with cookies that she had specially baked for him.

"Aaron loved these as a kid, I'm going to surprise him by placing these before him," she whispered in excitement as Ibha handed over the cup to her and smiled. "Can I taste some?" she asked eagerly and gladly picked one when Mrs. Walker agreed.

"Mmm...These are excellent, I never knew you were so good at baking grandma," Ibha  savoured every bite and complimented her.

"That's because you hardly let me step into the kitchen, though I must say you're not less than a pastry chef yourself. I'm sure Aaron will fall in love with your cooking once he taste the food you prepare. Oh that's reminds me, why don't you prepare the local delicacies," Mrs. Walker suggested and felt all the more excited while Ibha merely smiled. "It's high time he tasted the Indian spicy food," she added and giggled while Aaron continued talking by the balcony.

"Hmm...I wonder if it will appeal him, he looks more like a fish & chips guy," Ibha sighed and walked towards him with the tray in hand.

"Excuse me..." She said softly but failed to get his attention as he continued cursing on the phone.

From what it appeared, Aaron was having a tough time trying to talk on the cellphone since the network coverage was very weak up in the mountain. "Excuse me...Aaron," Ibha tried calling out to him but his frustration knew no bounds as he stood there with his back towards her.

Fed up with not being able to hear what the other person was saying, he cut the line and swung his arms before turning on account of which he hit the tray and caused the cup to fall.

Ibha cried as the hot tea spilled over her dress and spoiled it for a second time. The clanking of the tray and cup grabbed Mrs. Walker's attention as Ibha stared at the mess before her.

"Oh my dear, are you alright?" The old lay rushed in her wheelchair and looked at Ibha worriedly while Aaron grimaced.

"You nearly scratched my watch, couldn't you have just called out to me?" Aaron complained and looked at her angrily.

"Oh did you get hurt as well, I'm sorry I was the one who told her to hand it over to you. I should have known how busy you are," Mrs. Walker took the blame on her and surprised Ibha. "You've come home after years, I and your grandpa are trying our best to make your stay a pleasant one," She added and tried to explain as if she had done a blunder by disturbing him.

"Ya I can see how well grandpa is playing his part in this," he remarked and rolled his eyes before walking past them.

"Uhm...Aaron dear, I've baked you your favourite cookies, why don't you..." Mrs. Walker hadn't finished her statement  when Aaron just walked out of the room. "Oh well, he's a busy man, I'll offer him some latter. Till then why don't you go in and change," she smiled and looked at Ibha.

"You're quite found of him, aren't you?" Ibha enquired in amazement for she couldn't believe that a lady could love her grandson who had no regards for her.

"Of course I do, he's my only grandson. He's just like your grandpa though, stubborn and arrogant, but he's very kind inside. He left us years ago when my son and his wife shifted back to Australia. They separated when he was only eleven, he stayed with his father and has taken over our family business of producing and exporting tea all over the world. I wish his father would fly down to meet us too, he loved India just like us, but I'm happy at least my grandson is here," Mrs. Walker explained as she went down memory lane.