The Welsh Man Pt. 01

"Judy, I told you three months ago about this trip," Mitchell said trying to keep his annoyance from his voice as his ex-wife sat across from him in their former kitchen along with the court ordered supervisor. "That is why I was telling you; you could have your monthly visitation on either weekend before Mollie and I leave."

"I don't care! You aren't taking my daughter overseas!" Judy said, slurring her words slamming her hands down on the table. Mitchell could smell the fumes of the booze seeping out of her pores.

"It's only for two weeks Judy. If you were so damn worried about missing time with Mollie, you had ample time to see your own daughter beforehand. But we are leaving in the morning and nothing you say will stop that," Mitchell said plainly. Her drinking was the cause of their divorce along with the cheating she had committed while in her intoxicated state. It was also the reason why he had sole custody of their only child. He might hate her for destroying the life they had made with each other, but he wasn't vindictive enough to keep her from seeing their daughter; which was why he offered Judy the chance to see Mollie under the watchful eye of the supervisor. Mitchell wasn't about to keep Mollie from seeing her own mother, yet Judy could never get her act together. She was always searching for the next bottle. "May I remind you, I have full custody of Mollie. Your visitations are by my good graces. You have no say in where I take my daughter that you practically abandoned to search out that worm at the bottom of whichever bottle you just crawled out of," Mitchell said rising from his seat, "now get the hell out of my house," he said, his welsh accent slipping into his words.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Mollie giggled calling out to him as she ran into their home. "Look what I did!" she said, holding up the finger painting she had done in her pre-k class. Her beautiful smile beamed up at her father, her light strawberry blonde hair bounced on her shoulders as she held out the sheet of paper for her father.

"Oh! Would you look at that!" Mitchell said, kneeling down in front of her. "I do believe we have an artist in our midst," he said lovingly, as he scooped Mollie into his arms.

"Mitchell don't patronize her," Judy said cruelly, "I've seen better paintings...," she burped and swayed on her feet. Not caring how her words harmed her own child as Mollie began to tear up, her lip trembling burying her face into her father's chest.

"Get. Out," Mitchell said, as calmly as he could rubbing his daughter's back. "If you ever want to see your daughter ever again, get your shit together," he said, narrowing his eyes at his ex-wife as the supervisor dragged Judy out of his house. "There, there baby," Mitchell said swaying Mollie, "your mom didn't mean it," he whispered growing tired of covering for her. "Come on, let's get you packed, okay?" Mitchell said, as Mollie nodded against his chest.

"Mollie, you can't pack all your stuffed animals," Mitchell said, smiling at his daughter as she ran around her room.

"But Daddy!" Mollie pouted. "I can't leave my friends behind! They'll get lonely!"

"Nah-uh," Mitchell said shaking his head, "they all will be here, so they won't get lonely. However, you may take one so he or she can tell the others about all the cool things the two of you will see." It has been years since Mitchell had been back to his homeland. Not that he was going to see his family, he just needed an escape from the crap his life had become lately; and he could think of no other place to lose his troubles than the green rolling hills of his home in Wales. He wondered how Mollie would take to his hometown of Solva. He wondered how much had changed since he fled his home when he was seventeen. Mitchell didn't know how he had managed to become a diplomat's aid to the British embassy in DC, yet he was glad he did. It was because of his former boss that he was able to get a green card to stay in the states once her tenure as ambassador was over. Although that did include meeting his ex-wife, however, all the heartache, all the fights, all the money Judy squandered paled in comparison as he stared at his daughter's beautiful face.

"But, but," Mollie said, plopping down on the floor in a huff.

"No buts little lady," Mitchell said sternly, "I promise all your friends will be fine until we get back," he said, trying not to smile at his daughter's antics. "How about this," Mitchell said holding up a finger, "I'll have your aunt come and make sure they are all taken care of, talked to, and played with, okay?"

"You promise?!"

"Of course," Mitchell nodded. Plus he was already going to call her to check on his house while they were gone.

"Okay," Mollie said climbing onto her bed. Arranging her stuffed animals just so at the head of her bed so they could all greet her once they returned. Settling on a foot long green frog modeled after a well-known Muppet. Mitchell had bought it for her the day Mollie was born. While it was a little worn, a little torn, Mollie loved that frog, nonetheless.

"Now whose hungry?" Mitchell asked, rising from her bed.

"Me!" Mollie giggled holding up her hand as she bounced on her knees.

*****

Mitchell carried his sleeping daughter through the gate as they left the plane. Glad she didn't put up much of a fuss when they were waiting on their plane and during the flight. Although he did notice how all the beautiful flight attendants made sure to visit them every half hour. The flight wasn't that booked so when they had time, they would hang out in the empty seats making his daughter smile. That in and of itself warmed Mitchell's heart. Now that he had gone through all the crap with Judy, he was a little apprehensive with dealing with women. He knew they weren't all like his ex-wife, yet he didn't want to bring a strange woman into his daughter's life only to watch said woman disappear as fast as she came. However, he wasn't about to let that stop his daughter from making some new friends on the flight. Setting his daughter down as she rubbed her eyes, he pulled out a cart to place their bags on. Smiling down at Mollie as she sat on their bags as he pushed the cart through the sliding doors.

"What's that smell?!" Mollie asked, covering her nose.

"England, sweetheart," Mitchell chuckled as he looked for a cab to take them to the B&B, he had reservations at. He wanted his daughter to enjoy the tastes of his childhood home while they were staying there, and what better way for his daughter to experience the food of his youth than to stay at a bed and breakfast. "Now which cab do you think we should take, hmm?" Mitchell asked, smiling at his daughter.

"That one!" Mollie said, pointing at the van that was covered in vinyl images of Dora the explorer.

"Baby, I don't think that's a cab," Mitchell said, brushing his fingers through her hair.

"Is too!" Mollie said, pointing at the light on the van's dashboard saying it was in service, the driver quickly getting out of her vehicle upon seeing Mollie point at her.

"Sir? By any chance are you looking for a ride?" the woman asked, in a very thick welsh accent which Mitchell had no trouble understanding.

"Yes," Mitchell said, eyeing the short haired, slightly chubby woman.

"Then why not take a ride," she said gesturing to her van, "I do have a car seat for your adorable little girl," she said, smiling down at Mollie.

"She talk's funny like you do," Mollie giggled smiling up at her father.

"Well, cariad, I am Welsh, as are you," Mitchell said, wiggling his nose at her using the welsh word for sweetheart. "We'll take you up on that ride," he said, smiling at the woman.

"So are you coming home to visit or...?" the woman asked, stowing their bags in the rear of the van as Mitchell buckled Mollie into the car seat.

"Well, I thought it was time for this little one to learn where her father came from," Mitchell lied he wasn't about to tell the woman he had come home to get away from the mess his wife left him.

"Ah," she said closing the rear door, "so where are we heading?" she asked, sliding into the driver's seat as Mitchell slid the side door closed.

"Haroldston House," Mitchell said, buckling himself in.

"That's a lovely place," the woman mused as she pulled out of the parking space.

"I hope so," Mitchell said, his finger brushing the back of his daughter's hand as Mollie stared out the window.

"Look Daddy, they drive on the wrong side of the road!" Mollie said, pointing at the cars passing them.

"This is England, cariad. They do that here," Mitchell said, smiling at her shocked look.

"No way!"` Mollie said in awe. Kicking her legs as she waved to the weird people that drove the wrong way giggling as they waved back.

"So were you born in Solva or just in Wales generally?" the woman asked, peering in the rear view mirror.

"Born here," Mitchell said matter-of-fact.

"Oh?! What's your family name I might know them."

"I'm Mitchell Cecil and this little bug is Mollie Cecil," Mitchell said, giving his daughter's cheek a light pinch.

"That's an old family name," she said, wondering where she had heard of it before.

"Daddy, can we go there?!" Mollie asked, pointing to the harbor.

"Of course, once we are settled in, cariad," Mitchell said reverting, back to his native tongue.

"Here we are?!" the woman said, pulling up to the entrance of the B&B. Pulling out his wallet once the woman told him of the cost of the ride. "Here's my card, please feel free to call me once your vacation is over," she said, warmly as she handed back his credit card. "I hope you enjoy your stay," she said to Mollie. Who nodded that she would. Waving to their driver as Mitchell shouldered their bags.

"Well come on, we need to get checked in," Mitchell said, directing his daughter to the front door of the bed and breakfast.

"Hello and welcome to Haroldston House, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked, looking up as they approached.

"Yes, I have a reservation for Cecil," Mitchell said, keeping a hold on his daughter, so she wouldn't run off.

"Yes, I have you in the system, and in the studio room as well," the man said, typing away at the keys before reaching for the room key. "Cecil, Cecil, where do I know that name," he muttered as he handed Mitchell the room key, "now if you would just sign in," laying the pen on the book. Ringing the bell twice calling for the bell hop. Quickly pulling out his phone, wondering if his friend heard of the man.

"Hey Ashely," he said, as Mitchell was led up the stairs, "you wouldn't be related to a Mitchell Cecil, would you?" he asked, as he spun the sign in book around.

"Oi! Bret, are you listening to me!" Ashely nearly shouted into her phone. "Are you sure that's the name he signed in under?!"

"Of course I am," Bret said rolling his eyes, "I wouldn't have called if I wasn't."

"Does he have red hair, green eyes?!" Ashely asked, wondering if it was indeed her brother.

"Can't say about the eyes, but he did have red hair," Bret said straightening up the desk, "had a cute kid with him too."

"Kid?!" Ashely said in confusion.

"Yeah, didn't you know?"

"No," Ashely said weakly.

"She definitely wasn't raised here."

"She?! He has a daughter?" Ashely said, mainly to herself than to Bret.

"Yeah, like I said she's a cute kid. At least it appears she understood welsh when he spoke to her," Bret said, as he checked his email.

"Alright, call me if he leaves, I'm going to try and get there as fast as I can," Ashely said, as she hung up her phone.

"What do you mean, Mitchell might be in town?" her father asked, setting down the newspaper he was reading as he sat at the kitchen table.

"Like I said Dad, I don't know for certain that's why I'm going over there," Ashely said, running the straps of her purse along her left arm grabbing the keys for the family car.

"Ashely," her mother said, drying her hands as she turned towards her daughter, "don't get your hopes up. It has been thirteen years since Mitchell ran away."

"I know, but I have to know if it is him," Ashely said, knowing what truly caused her brother's flight from their home. She wondered what his daughter would look like, and if she acted like him at all. Also pondering if she should tell her parents about the girl, shaking the thought from her mind if it wasn't her brother, she didn't want to get her parents hopes up either.

******

"Bret what room is he in?" Ashely asked, leaning over the counter catching her friend by surprise.

"The studio room," Bret said, looking up as he wrote up the time sheets for next week. "He should be eating right about now," he said scrolling through Mitchell's room service order.

"Okay, thanks again for calling me," Ashely said, smiling at her old childhood friend.

"Daddy, what's this?" Ashely heard a small child's voice ask as she stepped quietly to his door.

"It's called welsh rarebit." Ashely's hand covered her mouth as the man's voice sounded so much like her brother. "It's bread and cheese, you do like cheese, don't you?" Her lip trembled as the little girl giggled.

"What's this?"

"Oh, that's Glamorgan sausage, don't turn your nose up at it. Give it a try." Ashely heard the sliding of a chair as she knocked on the door.

"Yes...," Mitchell's voice died in his throat as he opened the door.

"It's really you!" Ashely said, throwing her arms around her brother's neck.

"Daddy, who's that?" Mollie asked, climbing down from her chair.

"Don't...," Mitchell began to say only to have his sister push past him.

"Hello," Ashely said, kneeling down on the floor in front of Mollie, "my aren't you just a pretty little girl," she said her eyes running over her niece. Only to be yanked to her feet by her brother.

"Mollie, go finish your lunch, I'll be right outside the door," Mitchell said, shoving his sister out of his room before closing the door. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"To see you, it's been so long Mitchell. Where have you been all this time?" Ashely asked, in welsh as she saw the shadow of tiny feet under the door.

"Well, now you have," Mitchell said, ignoring her question reaching for the doorknob only to have Ashely take hold of his forearm.

"Mitchell please, please let me see her," Ashely said, her hand ran down his forearm before taking hold of his hand.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know my niece," Ashely said, studying her brother's green eyes.

"Fine, but you aren't staying," Mitchell said, turning the doorknob hearing his daughter's tiny feet racing back towards their table. "Mollie you know you shouldn't be doing that," he said disapprovingly as Mollie tried to wiggle herself back into her seat.

"I don't even know what you said," Mollie sighed after being caught red handed.

"Here let me," Ashely said, moving past her brother hurriedly as Mitchell closed the door.

"What do you say?" Mitchell asked, as Ashely sat Mollie in her seat.

"Thank you," Mollie said, looking up as Ashely moved to sit beside her, "so how do know my Daddy?" she asked, picking at her vegetarian sausage with her fingers.

"We've known each other since he was your age," Ashely said, bopping her tiny nose smiling warmly at her infectious laughter. Her green eyes flashed over to Mitchell as he sat back down to his own meal. "But I guess you can say I'm his sister, which makes me your aunt Ashely," she said, cutting up Mollie's rarebit to a manageable size. "So tell me, how did you get so cute!"

"I don't know, just am I guess," Mollie said, with a toothy smile.

"Is your mother...," Ashely stopped herself as Mitchell shook his head.

"Mommy's mean," Mollie huffed, "I hate her!" she said, tossing down her food. Sliding off of her seat, running to the bathroom slamming the door closed.

"What did I say?!" Ashely asked, confused to what had just happened.

"Don't worry about it," Mitchell said, rising from his chair, "Mollie, sweetheart, open the door," he said sweetly, knocking on the door. Arching an eyebrow as Mollie ran past him right into Ashely's arms.

"Shh," Ashely cooed sweetly as she rocked Mollie. "It's okay not to like your mother," she said giving her brother a look showing him that she would make an excellent mother. "So tell me why don't you like your mother?" Ashely asked rubbing Mollie's back.

"She always smells. She always speaks funny not like Daddy and yells at me when I ask her what she meant. Before we left, she made fun of my painting I made for Daddy," Mollie said, between sobs.

"There, there," Ashely said, enjoying the feel of Mollie in her arms. "I'm sure it was quite the lovely picture you painted for your father," she said, rising from her chair. "Mollie, look out there," Ashely said, pointing out to the harbor. "When your dad was young, he and I would run barefoot up and down the beach. Would you like to do that?" she asked, as Mollie nodded. Hating to see the sweet child in her arms teary from her own mother's actions. "You wouldn't mind if we went, would you?" Ashely asked, turning to her brother.

"P-please," Mollie said, her voice shaking.

"Once you finish your lunch," Mitchell said, pointing at her plate.

"O-okay," Mollie said, taking hold of Ashely's red hair that was a tad lighter than her father's.

"So how old is she?" Ashely asked, brushing her fingers through Mollie's hair.

"I'm five!" Mollie said, holding up six fingers. Ashely couldn't bring herself to correct her, Mollie was just too adorable.

"I see, you must be turning the heads of all the boys in your class," Ashely said, inwardly chuckling at her brother's pointed look. Mitchell so wasn't prepared for his daughter to be taking an interest in boys.

"Nah-uh," Mollie said shaking her head, "boys are smelly and always sticky!"

"True, that they are," Ashely agreed, "now who's ready for a walk on the beach?" she asked, once Mollie ate her last bite.

"I am!" Mollie said, wiggling in excitement.

"Mitchell?" Ashely said, brushing her hair behind her ear as Mollie ran in front of them on that dark sandy shore. "Where's her mother?"

"Right at this second probably face down in a bottle somewhere, why?"

"So she isn't a part of your life anymore?" Ashely asked, studying his face as his watchful eye never once left his daughter.

"In mine, no. But she will always be around at least I hope for Mollie's sake," Mitchell said, watching the sea foam coating the beach.

"So what happened between the two of you?" Ashely asked, drawing closer to her brother.

"Her drinking, then the men I found in my bed," Mitchell said, keeping his voice low, so Mollie wouldn't hear.

"I'm sorry," Ashely said, although she was glad the woman wasn't a part of his life any more. It made the task of growing closer to Mitchell that much easier for her. "You know that there's far more better women out there, right?" she asked, planting her seed.

"Sis, I'm divorced not dead," Mitchell said, bending down as Mollie ran towards him.

"Daddy! Look at all the shells!" Mollie said, holding up her sand covered hands.

"I see, which ones do you like?" Mitchell asked, looking at all the shapes and the colors.

"Hmm?!"

"How about this one?" Ashely asked, squatting down pointing at the conical shaped one. "It's small enough it can be made into a necklace, would you like that? This way you can always be reminded of where your roots lie," she said sweetly. Noticing how Mitchell was peering at her from the corner of his eye.

"Mmmhmm!" Mollie nodded her head vehemently.

"Then I know just who to take this to," Ashely said, taking the polished white and brown shell from the bunch.

"Daddy," Mollie whispered beckoning him closer, "I like her," she whispered into his ear.

"Oh, do you?" Mitchell whispered.

"Mmmhmm," Mollie said nodding, "she's much nicer than mommy is, and she doesn't smell bad either," she said, looking down at her feet.