Chapter 3: Great Uncle Herman, Part 2

1060 Words
As he entered the main body of the airport, Seth looked around the gates. Immediately, he spotted his Great Uncle Herman walking toward him without a smile. "Good to see you, boy," Great Uncle Herman said, extending his hand. Seth shifted his weight, eyeing his uncle carefully, and tilted his head to the side, taken aback. Seth knew it had been a while since he'd seen him, but the elder man literally hadn't changed a bit. It was as if he hadn't aged in the past several years since their last meeting. Uncle Herman had the same silver-white hair around his face falling to his collar, and the same white beard, coming to an abrupt point a few inches away from his chin. Also, he still had the same pale blue eyes that seemed to look right through a person, but it appeared that he hadn't aged. Amazing, Seth thought as he considered the possibilities, when suddenly Herman's hand flew up and tugged the ear buds abruptly out of Seth's ear. "I said, good to see you, boy," Herman repeated in a slight accent that bordered on British and Celtic together, and extended his hand again. A moment later, Seth smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to see you again, sir," Seth replied while shaking his hand. He quickly gathered his head phones and stuffed them into the pocket of his hoodie. "Follow me, boy," Herman announced, obviously satisfied with Seth's reaction, then turned and walked toward the exit without so much as a backward glance. "My name's Seth," he corrected as he followed, trying to keep up. "Right, boy," Herman replied, then asked over his shoulder, "Do you have any other bags?" "Yes," Seth replied. "Just another suitcase." Seth was fast becoming annoyed with his great uncle and he had just arrived. It was going to be a long summer. "I'm not a boy, you know. I just turned sixteen." "Right, boy," Herman replied, and didn't slow his brisk pace. "To me, you're still just a boy. You're not a man yet, but you're going to be. Now, let's get your bag." "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Seth asked, clearly stunned, following his uncle. Herman stopped dead in his tracks, causing Seth to almost run into him. "Don't curse. That's rule number one. I don't know what you do at home, but I know your mother did not raise you that way. No cursing under my roof." Seth raised an eyebrow, tilted his head to the side, and followed his uncle in disbelief. "How do you know what my mother does or does not approve of?" Seth asked, clearly annoyed. This was going to be the longest summer of his life. "I know a lot more than you think," Herman answered, never slowing his pace as Seth struggled to keep up. Once Seth pulled his suitcase from the baggage carrousel, Herman headed toward the exit, obviously expecting Seth to follow as they headed toward the parking lot. Although it was June, the weather was much cooler than he had imagined. "Whew, it's chilly!" Seth said, shifting the heavy suitcase into his other hand. "What do you expect? It's Newfoundland," Herman replied, approaching a 1955 two-toned white Crown Victoria, complete with the big fins on the sides. "Wow!" Seth said, unable to stop himself as he inspected the car appreciatively. One side of Herman's lips curled into a half smile. "So, you like cars, do you, boy?" Seth nodded, his eyes caressing the car appreciatively. "My friend has a 1963 red Corvette convertible." Herman smiled and nodded, but said nothing, as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, while Seth slid into the passenger seat. As they were driving, Seth was struck by the beauty of the land. The sky was a deep blue, gently caressing the lush green landscape. The architecture of the local buildings was reminiscent of the English that founded it long ago. Mountains rose to touch the azure blue skies. In short, the landscape was breathtaking. Prior to his arrival, Seth had researched St. John's on the Internet and learned that the St. John's area had the most annual rainfall and snowfall in Canada. Seth was not looking forward to the rain, but now that he was seeing it for the first time, it was obvious that the great amount of rain the area received annually was responsible for the lush, green landscape. "Where are we going?" Seth asked for nothing better to say, unable to stand the silence between them. "To the Farmer's Market," Herman replied, matter-of-fact, never taking his eyes from the road. "Great," Seth replied sarcastically under his breath, looking out the window at the lush countryside. This is going to be a fun summer. "What was that?" Herman asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Nothing," Seth replied, turning his attention back to the landscape passing by. Herman made a few expert turns of the wheel and within minutes, they were at the Farmer's Market. "Why are we going there?" Seth asked, less than pleased that his first experience that St. John's would be the local Flea Market. "Because it's open during the summer months," Herman replied, matter of fact. "It's only open on Saturdays and it's the best place to purchase the items we need. Anyway, you'll like it." Seth half grinned and nodded in agreement, knowing that if this visit with his Great Uncle Herman was going to be a success, he was going to have to try to make the best of it. A few minutes later, the car came to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of the Farmer's Market. And without a word, Herman got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked toward the entrance with Seth on his heels. Once inside the St. John's Farmer's Market, Seth liked what he saw. There were rows of tables set up with vendors selling their wares on long metal tables, ranging from everything imaginable from A-Z. After a few moments, Seth was enjoying the experience, finding a vendor selling music CDs from every genre and artist. He looked through the selections and found several of his favorite bands. Seth chose one and laid it on the counter, but when Seth reached for his wallet, Herman silently laid a twenty-dollar bill on the table.
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