Okay, a lot of the other topics are cats. That's what the internet is for, right? By the way, I am well into adulthood, in case that's a concern for any accounts I follow or who might follow me!
This will be the pinned master post for the various series I'm posting!
The Safehouse
Set in the Box Boy Universe- the story of a safehouse and the staff and rescuees who live there. Ongoing and currently a bit of a slow burn, but I haven't forgotten about it!
Miscellaneous Misfortunes
Set in the same universe as The Safehouse, this is a collection of whump and h/c stories about Angie's sibling Chris.
Big Sky Country
Set in the Box Boy Universe in the late 1800s. Levi and Cody take jobs on a ranch and discover that the owners have a box boy.
The New York Volunteers
Real-world historical fiction- this series was my NaNoWriMo project several years running. It's long, but also three of the four novels are finished and who knows what I might be able to do with the fourth one??
The Tented Field
It is the early 1860s, in the middle of the American Civil War. Beth, a Quaker whose family has avoided any association with the military, volunteers as a nurse at an Army hospital. There, she and Christopher, an orderly, are assigned full responsibility for a small ward of sick and wounded men. Historical fiction h/c
CW: for mention of institutionalized slavery, surgery, broken bones
In response to an ask from @orange-twilek-guy
Mikey felt restless that evening. He wasn't sure if it was the pain, which he was supposed to be used to, or just the strangeness and weight of his cast and the bandages that held his right hand still. It bothered him not to be able to use his hands, and he felt obscurely ashamed of this. He hadn't been able to use them much before the surgery, either, and they had hurt even more, then.
Besides. He was a Guard Dog. Master and Mistress said he wasn't anymore- but it didn't go away that easily. He had been trained to it, even if he hated it. And he did. To be allowed to be gentle was the one want he had kept when they taught him to give up wanting and thinking. But from all that training, he could work through any pain and had, plenty of times.
Mikey wondered if he was going weak from being in this house, where everything was so nice and easy and comforting. Nathan told him this was how it was supposed to be and he really, really hoped that was true. It was his second want.
So far, his experiences in the house suggested that it might really be happening, which made him excited to think about. Everything here seemed soft and safe, when he was able to look around and take notice of it. The temperature was just right and his clothes were clean and he always had enough to eat. Francis and Nathan were kind to him- they were his friends. Mistress looked after him and never raised her voice. Master had shared his name with Mikey, who now had two names.
It was just that he had thought... he had thought the surgery would fix his hands right away. If he was honest, he felt disappointed. He hadn't understood that it would take so long, or that they would hurt so badly afterwards. He didn't really feel better yet, not without medication, and that could only be taken at certain times.
This wasn't one of those times. In fact, despite all the pleasant things about the house, Mikey wasn't having a very good evening. He couldn't even pay attention to the movie Nathan had picked, which was too bad, because it looked good and it was about Dungeons and Dragons, which Mikey found slightly incomprehensible but knew Nathan enjoyed. He would have liked to understand it better, himself, just to please Nathan.
But he couldn't pay attention for more than a few minutes at a time. The medication had worn off and the ache in his shoulder stretched deep down into damaged muscle and bone. His left arm cramped and there was no way to move it to ease the muscles.
He tried rocking back and forth to see if that would help, which it sometimes did. Even if it didn't make the pain better, it was comforting. But with this stupid, heavy cast holding his shoulder still, it was harder to move and wasn't quite the same.
At least he could move his right arm at the elbow, to shift it when the ache became too much to bear. Mikey adjusted his throbbing hand, sighing at the pain of moving it without some kind of support underneath it to take the weight of the bandages. They felt so heavy over the broken fingers and the pain when he had to lift the soft cast was terrible.
They had given him a pillow to rest his hand on, and that helped a little bit, if he didn't have to move. And sometimes Master or Mistress would help him lift his hand if they noticed him trying to move, but they didn't always see in time. He wished he could ask for a sling, like he used to have for his arm, but he didn't know how.
Mikey put his arm back down on the pillow. Mistress promised he would have more medicine before bed. All he had to do was make it through the movie. He sat quietly for a few minutes before another problem presented itself.
His face itched. He hadn't had a shave since before the surgery and it was starting to really bother him. Normally, Francis or Master helped him with it when they brushed his teeth. But he had been doing everything from the couch lately, including having his teeth brushed and spitting into a cup, and they seemed to have forgotten. Or maybe they didn't think it was that important? After all, shaving was just a question of looks, not like tooth brushing, and they hadn't been bothering to comb his hair, either (but he didn't mind that- it was almost too short to comb, anyway, and besides, it didn't itch).
The prickling feeling along Mikey's jaw was going to drive him up a wall, he was pretty sure. The closest he could get to a solution was going to cause other problems, but... finally he couldn't stand it anymore.
Mikey lifted his right hand painfully, wishing someone would notice and support the bandages for him. They didn't and he gritted his teeth as he lifted it so that his elbow was on the pillow and his hand was in the air. That helped, a little, and it put his face within scratching distance.
He leaned his hand toward his face and stuck his head out as far as it would go, rubbing his chin back and forth across the bandages and wincing as it put pressure on his hand. It didn't help a lot, but it helped a little.
"Mikey?" Nathan asked. "You okay?"
Mikey made a considering face, trying to figure out how to tell Nathan what he was doing. He settled for tapping his fingertips against his face and moving his hand back and forth, as if scratching.
"Your face itches?" Nathan guessed. He usually didn't have to guess but, to be fair, this was a pretty obscure thing to communicate. Mikey nodded.
"Sorry, man. Do you, uh, do you want me to scratch it?"
Mikey nodded, slightly desperate, and Nathan leaned over, laughing slightly as he gave Mikey's jaw a firmer scratch.
"Your beard's growing in," Nathan observed. "Do you want it like that?"
Mikey shook his head, a little miserably. He tried to scratch his cheek with more force, but this sent a spark of pain down his wrist and he drew in a sharp breath.
"I'm sorry," Nathan said sympathetically. Mikey just shrugged. "Look, if you don't want to have a beard, we can probably do something about that. Hey, Tim?"
"Yeah?" Master had been absorbed in the movie and in sharing a bowl of popcorn with Francis, who had to be reminded that just because he had bumped Master's hand when they reached for a snack at the same time, that didn't mean that he was in the way. Mikey could tell that this still made Francis uncomfortable, but Master seemed to be pleased with how he was doing.
"I think Mikey could use a shave. He keeps trying to scratch at his face."
"Beard's kind of itchy, huh?" Master said. Mikey nodded again, wearily. He couldn't wait for his hands to heal. He wished he could just sign and tell them what he was thinking.
"And it's not like he can scratch it," Nathan reminded Master.
"Yeah, true enough. Sorry, Mikey. We can take care of that. You want to stop the movie and do it now?"
Mikey did not- surely it couldn't be much longer and he didn't want to ruin movie night for the rest of the house. He made a gesture and an expression that communicated he could wait. He tried to wave his hand in a nonchalant way, as if he wasn't bothered, but his injuries protested at this and he gasped again, pulling his arm back to cradle it against his chest as the pain washed up his arm.
"Oh, gosh," Tim said sadly. "I'm sorry, Mikey."
Mikey just shook his head and waited for the pain to subside a little.
"Two more hours until you can take your meds again," Mistress said, rubbing his back. "I know it's tough."
"Listen, when this is done- there's only about another twenty minutes- we'll give you a... sort of a spa day. Evening. How's that sound?"
It wasn't clear to Mikey what a spa day was, but it was clear that Master sounded eager to do it, so it would probably be fine and he nodded. Mistress kept her hand on his back for the rest of the movie, rubbing it in broad, slow, soothing circles.
When the credits finally rolled, Master got up and left the room. Mikey could hear him walk up the stairs and then back down, with his hands full of things. Mistress opened a small folding table and Master set down a razor, a can, a tube of something, and a matching washcloth-and-towel set that Mikey thought looked very fancy, being color-coordinated.
Then Master went into the kitchen and Mikey could hear water running. When the sound stopped, Master came back with a bowl of water that had steam rising gently off its surface.
"Okay," he said, sitting down next to Mikey. "Let's do this the right way. I think you deserve it."
Mikey was never sure he deserved anything, but it wasn't up to him to decide such things.
"Lean your head back- Angie, can you give him that pillow?" Mistress reached up to tilt his head forward and slide a thin pillow behind it. "Great, thanks. Now lean against that."
The pillow was soft and good support for his neck and Mikey closed his eyes.
"Yes, just like that. Perfect. Now I'm going to put a warm towel on your face- warm, not hot, okay?"
Mikey nodded and Master placed the towel over his chin, drawing the ends over his cheeks and pressing down lightly. It was, as promised, pleasantly warm. Mikey felt a shiver run down his spine but, for the first time, in a good way.
Master left the washcloth there just long enough for it to start to cool and then he lifted it off. Mikey didn't even bother to open his eyes.
Next, he heard a sound that he knew was the can of shave gel and after it came the feeling of cool foam being spread onto his cheeks. When the razor drew slowly up the side of his face, it occurred to Mikey that this would once have frightened him. The idea of a blade so close to his skin, even his throat- but not when it was Master. He trusted Master. Master really wouldn't hurt Mikey, he had proven that.
Mikey sat still and silent as the blade passed over his chin, his cheeks, his throat. Sometimes Master paused to rinse the blade in the warm water, and then continued his work, slowly and gently, until Mikey knew his face must be smooth again. It didn't itch, not at all.
Once that was done, the washcloth was back and cool now as Master wiped the last of the foam away. Then there was the towel, patting firmly but gently at his cheeks as Master dried his face. Last of all, Master put some kind of cream on his hands and massaged it gently into Mikey's skin.
Then he wiped his hands on the towel and sat back.
"Better?" he asked.
And it was.
Master List
Notes: Always happy to answer asks, and I'll do it in story format when possible!
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
When Nathan's phone buzzed, waking him from a light sleep, he shifted to his left and fumbled around the bedside table until his fingers closed on it. He lifted the phone above his face and squinted at the time.
It was 9 am. A perfectly normal time to be awake and responding to texts. Nathan put in his passcode and opened the message. It was from Angie.
Ready for breakfast?
yeah sure, he wrote back. He didn't have long to wait until he could hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Morning, Nathan." Angie's voice came from behind the door, but she hadn't opened it, which Nathan appreciated. He was the last one up, as usual, and he enjoyed having a little time to himself in the mornings, after Mikey and Francis were already downstairs.
"Morning," Nathan called back, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He sighed, thinking of how much work it would be to get up. Maybe he could just stay in bed all day. Angie would probably be fine with it if he asked.
"How's your leg this morning?" she called. She still hadn't touched the door.
"You can come in," he called back, in place of an answer. The more he woke up, the more willing he was to accept company. She opened the door and let herself in, still in her bathrobe.
"Thanks. You don't have to get up if you don't want to," she said. "But I wanted to see how you're feeling and if you're ready to eat something. You're probably due for more meds, too."
Nathan shifted and put a hand down to the bandages wrapped around his thigh, taking stock of how his body felt. The answer was that it felt bad. His leg, set only days ago, was throbbing and still felt swollen, the bandages tight and uncomfortable. The doctor had told him that this was nothing to worry about.
"Yeah, meds would be great."
"I figured." Angie fished in the pockets of her robe and pulled out a water bottle and a packet of pills. She handed them to Nathan and he took them, then finished the water.
"Now I just have to wait for them to kick in."
"Sorry. You want to stay in bed for now, I assume?"
"I really do, yeah."
"Do you want company?"
"Sure. I mean, I'm not that exciting, so you don't have to, though."
"It's fine."
They sat quietly for several minutes, during which Nathan decided that he was impressed with Angie's ability to wait in silence. He was wracking his brain for something to talk about, just because it felt so weird to sit there. She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm and not at all bothered, and sat in the chair next to his bed, looking out the window into a bright, sunny day.
"So..." Nathan said when he couldn't stand it anymore. Then he wasn't sure what came next.
Angie grinned at him and he thought she might be just a little amused by the awkward look on his face. "You want some help getting ready for the day? I can do it, or I can ask Tim to come up if you'd rather."
"Not quite yet. It'd be nice if the meds kicked in first. My leg- uh- doesn't feel great."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. My brother Greg broke his leg in high school and he was a mess. That was playing football, though, so... more straightforward."
"Probably not more fun, though."
"I don't think so."
There was another moment of quiet and then Nathan said, "Hey, I haven't been in the bathroom a lot to look around- okay, that sounds kind of weird, but you know what I mean- do we have any razors in the house?"
"Razors?"
"I would really like to shave. I haven't looked at myself in a mirror the last couple days, but I can tell I'm getting scruffy."
"Oh, yeah, we must, huh? Let me ask Tim." Angie had made a point to break the habit of going to the top of the stairs and shouting. It was a very normal thing to do in a house with several siblings, but she had found that it startled the rescuees, who were uncomfortable with loud voices.
The text came back without much delay. Yup- under the sink in the bathroom. There's shave gel and washcloths down there, too. For Nathan?
Angie tapped at the phone in reply and then slid it into her pocket. "You want to shave? We can make that happen. Here, if you want."
Nathan pondered the question for a moment. "I guess. I'm not sure I'm up to, like, balancing in front of the mirror."
"Okay, give me, like, two minutes and I'll be back with everything you need."
It was slightly more than two minutes when Angie returned carrying a laptop. Nathan looked at it in confusion, but before he had a chance to ask what that was all about, she left again. When she returned, she was carrying a dinner tray with a dish of water, a washcloth, shaving gel, and a razor. She flipped the legs of it down and set it over his lap.
"Tim says that should be everything," she said. "I'm taking his word for it."
"And the laptop?"
"Oh! That's genius- it was Tim's idea. We don't have any small mirrors, so he said to set it up and turn on the camera so you can see what you're doing."
Nathan laughed. "Okay, that's pretty good."
The camera was a pretty good solution to the problem and Nathan was proud that he didn't get much water on the blankets- and almost no shaving gel. It felt good to clean up, especially since showers were going to be a challenge for a while.
Master List
Notes: Asking questions is a great way to get new writing! I'll answer this question for all three rescuees. I decided to do this as three shorter stories, rather than one very long one, so that it'll get published faster.
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
I'm going to be totally honest, I wasn't really thinking about the fact that leg injuries run in Angie's family! But then I read your comment and at work today I was thinking about how Greg is going to tease Chris about this forever.
"You always have to do everything I do!"
"...I do not."
"Yes you do."
"Name one thing."
"Okay. You had to be born." (Greg is older by almost twenty minutes)
"Greg. I know you know how twins work."
"Yeah, I know that I was born and then you had to go and do it, too."
When Nathan's phone buzzed, waking him from a light sleep, he shifted to his left and fumbled around the bedside table until his fingers closed on it. He lifted the phone above his face and squinted at the time.
It was 9 am. A perfectly normal time to be awake and responding to texts. Nathan put in his passcode and opened the message. It was from Angie.
Ready for breakfast?
yeah sure, he wrote back. He didn't have long to wait until he could hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Morning, Nathan." Angie's voice came from behind the door, but she hadn't opened it, which Nathan appreciated. He was the last one up, as usual, and he enjoyed having a little time to himself in the mornings, after Mikey and Francis were already downstairs.
"Morning," Nathan called back, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He sighed, thinking of how much work it would be to get up. Maybe he could just stay in bed all day. Angie would probably be fine with it if he asked.
"How's your leg this morning?" she called. She still hadn't touched the door.
"You can come in," he called back, in place of an answer. The more he woke up, the more willing he was to accept company. She opened the door and let herself in, still in her bathrobe.
"Thanks. You don't have to get up if you don't want to," she said. "But I wanted to see how you're feeling and if you're ready to eat something. You're probably due for more meds, too."
Nathan shifted and put a hand down to the bandages wrapped around his thigh, taking stock of how his body felt. The answer was that it felt bad. His leg, set only days ago, was throbbing and still felt swollen, the bandages tight and uncomfortable. The doctor had told him that this was nothing to worry about.
"Yeah, meds would be great."
"I figured." Angie fished in the pockets of her robe and pulled out a water bottle and a packet of pills. She handed them to Nathan and he took them, then finished the water.
"Now I just have to wait for them to kick in."
"Sorry. You want to stay in bed for now, I assume?"
"I really do, yeah."
"Do you want company?"
"Sure. I mean, I'm not that exciting, so you don't have to, though."
"It's fine."
They sat quietly for several minutes, during which Nathan decided that he was impressed with Angie's ability to wait in silence. He was wracking his brain for something to talk about, just because it felt so weird to sit there. She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm and not at all bothered, and sat in the chair next to his bed, looking out the window into a bright, sunny day.
"So..." Nathan said when he couldn't stand it anymore. Then he wasn't sure what came next.
Angie grinned at him and he thought she might be just a little amused by the awkward look on his face. "You want some help getting ready for the day? I can do it, or I can ask Tim to come up if you'd rather."
"Not quite yet. It'd be nice if the meds kicked in first. My leg- uh- doesn't feel great."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. My brother Greg broke his leg in high school and he was a mess. That was playing football, though, so... more straightforward."
"Probably not more fun, though."
"I don't think so."
There was another moment of quiet and then Nathan said, "Hey, I haven't been in the bathroom a lot to look around- okay, that sounds kind of weird, but you know what I mean- do we have any razors in the house?"
"Razors?"
"I would really like to shave. I haven't looked at myself in a mirror the last couple days, but I can tell I'm getting scruffy."
"Oh, yeah, we must, huh? Let me ask Tim." Angie had made a point to break the habit of going to the top of the stairs and shouting. It was a very normal thing to do in a house with several siblings, but she had found that it startled the rescuees, who were uncomfortable with loud voices.
The text came back without much delay. Yup- under the sink in the bathroom. There's shave gel and washcloths down there, too. For Nathan?
Angie tapped at the phone in reply and then slid it into her pocket. "You want to shave? We can make that happen. Here, if you want."
Nathan pondered the question for a moment. "I guess. I'm not sure I'm up to, like, balancing in front of the mirror."
"Okay, give me, like, two minutes and I'll be back with everything you need."
It was slightly more than two minutes when Angie returned carrying a laptop. Nathan looked at it in confusion, but before he had a chance to ask what that was all about, she left again. When she returned, she was carrying a dinner tray with a dish of water, a washcloth, shaving gel, and a razor. She flipped the legs of it down and set it over his lap.
"Tim says that should be everything," she said. "I'm taking his word for it."
"And the laptop?"
"Oh! That's genius- it was Tim's idea. We don't have any small mirrors, so he said to set it up and turn on the camera so you can see what you're doing."
Nathan laughed. "Okay, that's pretty good."
The camera was a pretty good solution to the problem and Nathan was proud that he didn't get much water on the blankets- and almost no shaving gel. It felt good to clean up, especially since showers were going to be a challenge for a while.
Master List
Notes: Asking questions is a great way to get new writing! I'll answer this question for all three rescuees. I decided to do this as three shorter stories, rather than one very long one, so that it'll get published faster.
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
Unsure if we’re allowed to ask questions or request things and totally okay if not!!! If not pretend I’m an evil anon and that I never sent this 😭
I was at work thinking of the Safehouse boys, as I often think of them on slower days! And I was wondering- Does Tim help them shave? I can imagine the stubble would be uncomfortable for poor Mikey and with his poor hands, I can’t imagine he’d be able to shave himself! Or is he rocking his stubble 👀? Does Francis know how to shave himself because he was a ‘gentleman’s pet’? Hehe anyway sorry for asking!!!! I was just super curious as it’s been rattling around in my brain all day
Not only allowed, but gratefully welcomed! This is probably also the fastest way to get new writing, because as soon as I read it, I started thinking about how all that would have gone. :)
So the answer will be along shortly, as soon as I get to write it! It's on the docket for this weekend, for sure.
my love language is giving a character severe internal injuries and having them near death in a hospital bed while their loved one cries and strokes their hair
I could see myself doing more posts like this, since I often know a bit about the characters that doesn't make it into the story. Tim's family, similarly, exists and I'd like to know them better.
For today, though, let's start with the DiMeo family, Angie's folks.
Family members:
Mom: Nancy DiMeo
Dad: Al DiMeo (it's short for Alfredo, which he prefers not to admit)
Mom and Dad met in their early 20s through friends and bonded over the experience of being first-generation Italian-American. Mom's family arrived in the US before she was born, but Dad was born in Italy and moved to the US when he was very young. They both speak Italian with native fluency, but have slight American accents when they do. If you talk to them in English, you'd pick them out as residents of New York City.
When they were working, Mom was a librarian and Dad was an electrician. Mom stayed home with the kids for a few years, because it made good financial sense, but she looked forward to going back to work when it was practical to do so. She loves libraries and reads voraciously. When the youngest was 1 and Mom was ready to go back to work, Dad took a few years out of the workforce to be home with the kids. Until they were all in school, it was financially and logistically easier to have a parent at home and Dad loved being a stay-at-home parent.
Like many people their age from the Northern US, Mom and Dad retired to Florida. Mom participates in three book clubs, a swim class, a drawing seminar, and regular movie nights with her friends. Dad likes to putter around in the garage and "rest his eyes" while watching sports. They both have weekly phone check-ins with each kid.
Mom and Dad never got over being madly in love and have a long-standing tradition of a weekly date night. Dad buys Mom flowers and Mom puts on Italian music from their parents' day, because she feels it's the most romantic option.
Their only regret about Florida is that they're not as close to their children and (they hope) eventual grandchildren as they would like. The family stays in touch through a group chat and regular visits and they're collectively very close, which Mom and Dad really appreciate.
Marina Sanders (her married name) is the oldest of the DiMeo kids. She's 31 and recently got married to Brad. They live in Texas, near Brad's family, and they've quietly started talking about having children. Marina loves animals and would describe herself as a Cat Fancier and a Horse Girl. She volunteers at a pet shelter on the weekends. When one of them has had a long day, she and Angie sometimes joke about working in the same field, but only when nobody can hear them.
Since moving to Texas, Marina got a job on a ranch that hosts tourists for week-long visits. She works in the stables as a riding instructor and tour guide for groups going on trail rides. Though she is a naturally pleasant person, working around the combination of large animals and tourists has taught Marina how to be stern when she needs to be. She deploys this skill very carefully.
Gregory and Chris are 28-year-old fraternal twins. They shared a bedroom growing up, went to the same college and grad schools, and now live near each other because they couldn't imagine living farther apart than a couple of miles. Mom talked them into living in separate buildings because she felt it would be healthy for them to develop just a little independence. Still, they tend to treat their homes as shared space.
They also share a friend group and in their free time, they can usually be found getting into adventures together- visiting new places, checking out restaurants and bars, and attending the occasional protest. This sometimes surprises people who don't know them well, because Greg and Chris at first seem very different from each other.
Greg is a natural athlete who enjoys working out because he finds it satisfying to reach personal goals through nothing but hard work. Repetitive work on a particular muscle group is meditative for him and he finds that he sleeps particularly well after a gym visit. He works in sales for a tech company, more because he's personable and likes people than because he cares about the technology itself.
Chris prefers to be in the kitchen rather than the gym, and sometimes jokes that they're the perfect advertisement for their own cooking. Chris got into baking sometime after college, when it was too late to consider culinary school, but they like to make bread and pastries and leave them on the neighbors' doorsteps. As a result, Chris has a very warm relationship with everyone on the street. They're also great at remembering who has an allergy, and when everyone's birthday is, so they always seem to know exactly what the neighbors will enjoy.
Chris got into training service animals by accident. They took an internship during their Senior year of college and found that they loved it. The dogs are adorable, the challenge of helping the dogs learn is fun for them, and they get a real sense of reward out of helping the service dog handlers learn to work with their dog as a team.
Chris chose their own name and it's not short for anything; their mother calls them Christinopher because it's more satisfying to bark at your child when they've said or done something that warrants The Mom Voice.
Angela graduated with her Bachelors Degree in Psychology a couple of years ago. At the time of this story, she's 25 and working in one of the underground safe houses that help former Pets escape abuse. She wasn't ready for grad school, although she considered it. Chris, with whom she's particularly close, recommended that she go. She thinks she may do that if she chooses to leave the Safehouse network at some point (but Angie leaving won't be a plot point in the story- she'll stay at least until the Safehouse residents are ready to be independent.)
In school, Angie played soccer and participated in Model UN. Once she got to college, she continued playing on an adult recreational league and found that she enjoyed the after-game hangouts as much as she enjoyed the sport. When she was living alone, she was in the habit of going for early-morning runs, but that's kind of on hold now that she has the Safehouse to be responsible for.
After college Angie felt kind of adrift- her friends had gone off in different directions and she knew she didn't want to go straight to grad school but she wasn't sure what she did want to do. She heard about the Safehouse network through what was essentially gossip and she jumped at the idea to help. She likes the idea of being able to do something big to help- she likes being the one to fix things and there's a part of her ego that enjoys being the person to step in and help when something is wrong. She recognizes this about herself, and is aware that the Safehouse is a benign and genuinely useful way to indulge this, without getting an ego about it.
Obviously Chris knows where she works, and if you've read the Christmas story from last year, you know that Greg does, too. Lexi also does, because she lives close by. The rest of the family knows that she works in a group home for kids who've had a hard time, but they tend to picture children in foster care, not legal adults with trauma.
Alexandra recently graduated from a five-year-Masters program and works as a Kindergarten teacher. She's the Mom Friend, both to her friends and her siblings, as well. Lexi is still figuring out where adulthood is going to lead her and she's glad to be living near her siblings while she does- it's comforting to have them to rely on when she needs a real adult. Lexi loves to read and has an impressive library. She was a ballet dancer when she was younger and misses her dance company, so she's hoping to get involved in another one near her new home.
Phillip hasn't really had a part to play in this story, because he's 18 and away at college, majoring in English. They keep up through texts and he was at Marina's wedding, of course, but mostly he's busy with school work and activities and the business of being 18. Coming from a large and rather involved family, Phillip has the distinction of being the quietest of the siblings. He's closest with Lexi and looks up to his older siblings- he hopes to basically be Greg one day.
Master List
Notes: Happy birthday, @orange-twilek-guy! Hope it was a great one!
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
Chris barely moved off the couch for a few days. It was a relief, they thought, not having to go up the stairs to their bedroom. And anyway, they didn't mind being within reach of the TV all the time, since it was hard to sleep on a particular schedule right now. At least with the remote in hand, Greg and Lexie could keep to their schedules and Chris could turn on the TV and stay entertained until they were ready to sleep again, no matter who else was awake.
The visits were nice, too. Angie brought all the boys from her Safehouse by and Nathan was virtually always available by text if Chris was lonely. Chris was aware that they could have much more company if they wanted it; the day after their fall, their siblings had finally insisted that they tell their parents.
"You do it, or I will," Lexie had said, half teasing but half threatening, too. "We can't keep it a secret much longer and she'll be really hurt if you don't let her know."
"I know," Chris sighed. "It's just that I think there's a real chance she would fly up here, you know? It would just be... a lot."
"Yeah," Greg agreed. "But Dad can talk her out of buying a plane ticket, and you gotta tell her at some point. It's only gonna get harder. Do you want us to do it?"
"Not really," Chris relented. "And you're right. I was mad when she didn't tell me she was having surgery last year. It would be hypocritical of me not to say anything."
"Good kid," Greg said approvingly, clapping Chris on the back.
"We'll pour you a stiff drink when it's over," Lexi joked, and handed Chris their phone. "So just get it over with."
"Yeah, yeah," Chris complained, but they were smiling as they dialed the phone.
"Hello, Christinopher!" their mother said when she picked up. Chris had to grin. Mom had never once gotten their pronouns wrong, but she had insisted that they needed a long name, like their siblings all had. "So I can yell at you," she had explained, ignoring the fact that she had never yelled at her children before and clearly didn't plan to start now.
"So good of you to remember your parents!" Mom teased. "I haven't heard your voice in almost a week. What's going on up there?"
"Well..." Chris said, not sure how to start. Their tone must have given in away, though, because their mother was immediately serious.
"Chris," she said, "What's wrong? I can hear it in your voice. Tell me what's going on."
"Well, I'm okay," Chris started, aware that this was, in itself, alarming.
"That's confidence-inspiring."
"I know. But I am- but I broke my leg. But it's okay, I'm fine. I'm home and Greg and Lexi are here."
"Chris!" their mother exclaimed, still sounding worried. "What on earth! What happened?"
"I tripped on the stairs," Chris admitted. "It was really stupid."
"Well, yes, maybe. Is it bad? How bad is it?" She turned away from the phone before Chris had a chance to answer. "Honey? Pick up the phone. It's Chris. They broke their leg."
There was the sound of another phone clicking to life, and then their dad's voice. "Chris? Kiddo, are you okay? What happened?"
"I fell down the stairs," Chris said again. "I'm okay."
"How bad is the break?" Chris's mom asked again, and this time she stayed for an answer.
"Kind of bad," Chris admitted. "In like three places. One's right under my knee, one's right above my ankle, and then one of the bones on the outside of my foot."
"Oh, Chris!"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"It is not! I'll come up and take care of you. Let me see what flights are available."
This was what Chris had been hoping to avoid. "It's okay, Mom," they insisted. "I'm okay. Lexi and Greg are here, and Angie's been coming by, too." They tried to sound robust and hearty and capable. "There would hardly be room for you in the house."
"We'll see about that. Oh, Chris! Listen- put your brother and sister on. I want to talk to them."
Chris lowered the phone in time to see a text come through from their father.
Don't worry, I'll talk to her. I won't let her fly up. -Dad
Chris had to smile. Dad would work it out. He had been having versions of this argument for over 30 years and he was good at it.
"Greg!" Chris shouted. "Lexi! Mom wants to talk to you!"
They had clearly been eavesdropping, because they immediately rounded the corner.
"Nosy," Chris teased. "I'll put you on speaker."
"Hi, Mom," her children chorused.
"Hello, kids. Are you two taking good care of Chris?"
"Of course we are," Greg promised. "They're in good hands."
"Oh, I know they are, but I'm going to worry. You've had them in to see the doctor?"
"Of course we did," Lexi said, trying to keep her voice neutral and not imply that their mother was ridiculous for thinking they might not have.
"They called an ambulance," Greg added. "We picked them up from the hospital."
"Oh, good. So they have a cast and everything already."
"Well, yeah," Chris put in. "It's been a few days. I wasn't just, like, ignoring it."
"And how are you getting around? Isn't the cast heavy?"
"Pretty heavy," Chris admitted.
Lexi added, "It's all the way up over their knee. And their foot's broken- did you already tell them that?- so it's covering their whole foot. It looks very tragic."
"Oh, Chris!"
Chris shot Lexi an exasperated look. Lexi just grinned back.
"We're taking good care of them, though," she promised. "They're doing okay on the crutches and everything." Greg bit back a snort- Lexi had crossed her fingers as she lied to her mother.
"Well. If you two have everything under control. And you said Angie is helping out, too."
"She is. We really are doing okay."
"If you're sure. But if I need to, you know I can come right up there."
"We know!" her children chorused.
"All right, all right, you know a mother worries. Don't make fun of me! But seriously, Chris, we love you very much and we'll do whatever we can to help."
"That's right," their dad added.
"For now, let us buy you three dinner. It's the least we can do. You let me know what you want and I'll have it delivered, okay?"
"Thanks, Mom," Chris said, smiling. "I really will be okay. And we'll keep you updated on my leg, I promise."
That might have been my favorite part :) I imagine their parents as very warm people. Mom will hug you (unless you're uncomfortable with that) and Dad is always available to offer advice and demonstrate power tools. I don't know their first names, though. I should just do an Angie's Family Lore post, I think.
Also, I decided that if I'm writing this fictional universe, one thing I have no interest in including is LGBTQ+-phobias. I'm sure such people exist in this world, but I'm happier not including them on the page. So Chris gets to live in a world where everyone who should love them, does.
Fun fact, I have purposely spent zero time thinking about Chris's assigned gender at birth, because it's not important to the story and doesn't tell me anything about their character. I don't want to accidentally bias myself, so the only thing we will ever know about their body is that it's theirs. I think they use whatever type of body modifications (hormones, surgery, clothes etc.) puts them closest to smack-dab in the middle and makes them hard for strangers to "read". They're the kind of person who makes it visually clear that you'll need to just ask for their pronouns.
You’re so kind!! And I’m always thrilled when you comment- you leave fabulous comments. This one inspired me to just churn out that Lore post. It’s wild to me in the best way that you like my writing and so, so kind of you to say so. So if you’re planning a birthday re-read (again, awesome and unreal to me that anyone would enjoy MY writing that much!!) I thought you should have something new to enjoy, too.
Also, I’m glad you like Chris so much! They were a one-off character I liked so much that I brought them back and then couldn’t let go. I think I’m going to do a lot more with their friendship with Nathan.
I could see myself doing more posts like this, since I often know a bit about the characters that doesn't make it into the story. Tim's family, similarly, exists and I'd like to know them better.
For today, though, let's start with the DiMeo family, Angie's folks.
Family members:
Mom: Nancy DiMeo
Dad: Al DiMeo (it's short for Alfredo, which he prefers not to admit)
Mom and Dad met in their early 20s through friends and bonded over the experience of being first-generation Italian-American. Mom's family arrived in the US before she was born, but Dad was born in Italy and moved to the US when he was very young. They both speak Italian with native fluency, but have slight American accents when they do. If you talk to them in English, you'd pick them out as residents of New York City.
When they were working, Mom was a librarian and Dad was an electrician. Mom stayed home with the kids for a few years, because it made good financial sense, but she looked forward to going back to work when it was practical to do so. She loves libraries and reads voraciously. When the youngest was 1 and Mom was ready to go back to work, Dad took a few years out of the workforce to be home with the kids. Until they were all in school, it was financially and logistically easier to have a parent at home and Dad loved being a stay-at-home parent.
Like many people their age from the Northern US, Mom and Dad retired to Florida. Mom participates in three book clubs, a swim class, a drawing seminar, and regular movie nights with her friends. Dad likes to putter around in the garage and "rest his eyes" while watching sports. They both have weekly phone check-ins with each kid.
Mom and Dad never got over being madly in love and have a long-standing tradition of a weekly date night. Dad buys Mom flowers and Mom puts on Italian music from their parents' day, because she feels it's the most romantic option.
Their only regret about Florida is that they're not as close to their children and (they hope) eventual grandchildren as they would like. The family stays in touch through a group chat and regular visits and they're collectively very close, which Mom and Dad really appreciate.
Marina Sanders (her married name) is the oldest of the DiMeo kids. She's 31 and recently got married to Brad. They live in Texas, near Brad's family, and they've quietly started talking about having children. Marina loves animals and would describe herself as a Cat Fancier and a Horse Girl. She volunteers at a pet shelter on the weekends. When one of them has had a long day, she and Angie sometimes joke about working in the same field, but only when nobody can hear them.
Since moving to Texas, Marina got a job on a ranch that hosts tourists for week-long visits. She works in the stables as a riding instructor and tour guide for groups going on trail rides. Though she is a naturally pleasant person, working around the combination of large animals and tourists has taught Marina how to be stern when she needs to be. She deploys this skill very carefully.
Gregory and Chris are 28-year-old fraternal twins. They shared a bedroom growing up, went to the same college and grad schools, and now live near each other because they couldn't imagine living farther apart than a couple of miles. Mom talked them into living in separate buildings because she felt it would be healthy for them to develop just a little independence. Still, they tend to treat their homes as shared space.
They also share a friend group and in their free time, they can usually be found getting into adventures together- visiting new places, checking out restaurants and bars, and attending the occasional protest. This sometimes surprises people who don't know them well, because Greg and Chris at first seem very different from each other.
Greg is a natural athlete who enjoys working out because he finds it satisfying to reach personal goals through nothing but hard work. Repetitive work on a particular muscle group is meditative for him and he finds that he sleeps particularly well after a gym visit. He works in sales for a tech company, more because he's personable and likes people than because he cares about the technology itself.
Chris prefers to be in the kitchen rather than the gym, and sometimes jokes that they're the perfect advertisement for their own cooking. Chris got into baking sometime after college, when it was too late to consider culinary school, but they like to make bread and pastries and leave them on the neighbors' doorsteps. As a result, Chris has a very warm relationship with everyone on the street. They're also great at remembering who has an allergy, and when everyone's birthday is, so they always seem to know exactly what the neighbors will enjoy.
Chris got into training service animals by accident. They took an internship during their Senior year of college and found that they loved it. The dogs are adorable, the challenge of helping the dogs learn is fun for them, and they get a real sense of reward out of helping the service dog handlers learn to work with their dog as a team.
Chris chose their own name and it's not short for anything; their mother calls them Christinopher because it's more satisfying to bark at your child when they've said or done something that warrants The Mom Voice.
Angela graduated with her Bachelors Degree in Psychology a couple of years ago. At the time of this story, she's 25 and working in one of the underground safe houses that help former Pets escape abuse. She wasn't ready for grad school, although she considered it. Chris, with whom she's particularly close, recommended that she go. She thinks she may do that if she chooses to leave the Safehouse network at some point (but Angie leaving won't be a plot point in the story- she'll stay at least until the Safehouse residents are ready to be independent.)
In school, Angie played soccer and participated in Model UN. Once she got to college, she continued playing on an adult recreational league and found that she enjoyed the after-game hangouts as much as she enjoyed the sport. When she was living alone, she was in the habit of going for early-morning runs, but that's kind of on hold now that she has the Safehouse to be responsible for.
After college Angie felt kind of adrift- her friends had gone off in different directions and she knew she didn't want to go straight to grad school but she wasn't sure what she did want to do. She heard about the Safehouse network through what was essentially gossip and she jumped at the idea to help. She likes the idea of being able to do something big to help- she likes being the one to fix things and there's a part of her ego that enjoys being the person to step in and help when something is wrong. She recognizes this about herself, and is aware that the Safehouse is a benign and genuinely useful way to indulge this, without getting an ego about it.
Obviously Chris knows where she works, and if you've read the Christmas story from last year, you know that Greg does, too. Lexi also does, because she lives close by. The rest of the family knows that she works in a group home for kids who've had a hard time, but they tend to picture children in foster care, not legal adults with trauma.
Alexandra recently graduated from a five-year-Masters program and works as a Kindergarten teacher. She's the Mom Friend, both to her friends and her siblings, as well. Lexi is still figuring out where adulthood is going to lead her and she's glad to be living near her siblings while she does- it's comforting to have them to rely on when she needs a real adult. Lexi loves to read and has an impressive library. She was a ballet dancer when she was younger and misses her dance company, so she's hoping to get involved in another one near her new home.
Phillip hasn't really had a part to play in this story, because he's 18 and away at college, majoring in English. They keep up through texts and he was at Marina's wedding, of course, but mostly he's busy with school work and activities and the business of being 18. Coming from a large and rather involved family, Phillip has the distinction of being the quietest of the siblings. He's closest with Lexi and looks up to his older siblings- he hopes to basically be Greg one day.
Master List
Notes: Happy birthday, @orange-twilek-guy! Hope it was a great one!
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
Chris barely moved off the couch for a few days. It was a relief, they thought, not having to go up the stairs to their bedroom. And anyway, they didn't mind being within reach of the TV all the time, since it was hard to sleep on a particular schedule right now. At least with the remote in hand, Greg and Lexie could keep to their schedules and Chris could turn on the TV and stay entertained until they were ready to sleep again, no matter who else was awake.
The visits were nice, too. Angie brought all the boys from her Safehouse by and Nathan was virtually always available by text if Chris was lonely. Chris was aware that they could have much more company if they wanted it; the day after their fall, their siblings had finally insisted that they tell their parents.
"You do it, or I will," Lexie had said, half teasing but half threatening, too. "We can't keep it a secret much longer and she'll be really hurt if you don't let her know."
"I know," Chris sighed. "It's just that I think there's a real chance she would fly up here, you know? It would just be... a lot."
"Yeah," Greg agreed. "But Dad can talk her out of buying a plane ticket, and you gotta tell her at some point. It's only gonna get harder. Do you want us to do it?"
"Not really," Chris relented. "And you're right. I was mad when she didn't tell me she was having surgery last year. It would be hypocritical of me not to say anything."
"Good kid," Greg said approvingly, clapping Chris on the back.
"We'll pour you a stiff drink when it's over," Lexi joked, and handed Chris their phone. "So just get it over with."
"Yeah, yeah," Chris complained, but they were smiling as they dialed the phone.
"Hello, Christinopher!" their mother said when she picked up. Chris had to grin. Mom had never once gotten their pronouns wrong, but she had insisted that they needed a long name, like their siblings all had. "So I can yell at you," she had explained, ignoring the fact that she had never yelled at her children before and clearly didn't plan to start now.
"So good of you to remember your parents!" Mom teased. "I haven't heard your voice in almost a week. What's going on up there?"
"Well..." Chris said, not sure how to start. Their tone must have given in away, though, because their mother was immediately serious.
"Chris," she said, "What's wrong? I can hear it in your voice. Tell me what's going on."
"Well, I'm okay," Chris started, aware that this was, in itself, alarming.
"That's confidence-inspiring."
"I know. But I am- but I broke my leg. But it's okay, I'm fine. I'm home and Greg and Lexi are here."
"Chris!" their mother exclaimed, still sounding worried. "What on earth! What happened?"
"I tripped on the stairs," Chris admitted. "It was really stupid."
"Well, yes, maybe. Is it bad? How bad is it?" She turned away from the phone before Chris had a chance to answer. "Honey? Pick up the phone. It's Chris. They broke their leg."
There was the sound of another phone clicking to life, and then their dad's voice. "Chris? Kiddo, are you okay? What happened?"
"I fell down the stairs," Chris said again. "I'm okay."
"How bad is the break?" Chris's mom asked again, and this time she stayed for an answer.
"Kind of bad," Chris admitted. "In like three places. One's right under my knee, one's right above my ankle, and then one of the bones on the outside of my foot."
"Oh, Chris!"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"It is not! I'll come up and take care of you. Let me see what flights are available."
This was what Chris had been hoping to avoid. "It's okay, Mom," they insisted. "I'm okay. Lexi and Greg are here, and Angie's been coming by, too." They tried to sound robust and hearty and capable. "There would hardly be room for you in the house."
"We'll see about that. Oh, Chris! Listen- put your brother and sister on. I want to talk to them."
Chris lowered the phone in time to see a text come through from their father.
Don't worry, I'll talk to her. I won't let her fly up. -Dad
Chris had to smile. Dad would work it out. He had been having versions of this argument for over 30 years and he was good at it.
"Greg!" Chris shouted. "Lexi! Mom wants to talk to you!"
They had clearly been eavesdropping, because they immediately rounded the corner.
"Nosy," Chris teased. "I'll put you on speaker."
"Hi, Mom," her children chorused.
"Hello, kids. Are you two taking good care of Chris?"
"Of course we are," Greg promised. "They're in good hands."
"Oh, I know they are, but I'm going to worry. You've had them in to see the doctor?"
"Of course we did," Lexi said, trying to keep her voice neutral and not imply that their mother was ridiculous for thinking they might not have.
"They called an ambulance," Greg added. "We picked them up from the hospital."
"Oh, good. So they have a cast and everything already."
"Well, yeah," Chris put in. "It's been a few days. I wasn't just, like, ignoring it."
"And how are you getting around? Isn't the cast heavy?"
"Pretty heavy," Chris admitted.
Lexi added, "It's all the way up over their knee. And their foot's broken- did you already tell them that?- so it's covering their whole foot. It looks very tragic."
"Oh, Chris!"
Chris shot Lexi an exasperated look. Lexi just grinned back.
"We're taking good care of them, though," she promised. "They're doing okay on the crutches and everything." Greg bit back a snort- Lexi had crossed her fingers as she lied to her mother.
"Well. If you two have everything under control. And you said Angie is helping out, too."
"She is. We really are doing okay."
"If you're sure. But if I need to, you know I can come right up there."
"We know!" her children chorused.
"All right, all right, you know a mother worries. Don't make fun of me! But seriously, Chris, we love you very much and we'll do whatever we can to help."
"That's right," their dad added.
"For now, let us buy you three dinner. It's the least we can do. You let me know what you want and I'll have it delivered, okay?"
"Thanks, Mom," Chris said, smiling. "I really will be okay. And we'll keep you updated on my leg, I promise."
That might have been my favorite part :) I imagine their parents as very warm people. Mom will hug you (unless you're uncomfortable with that) and Dad is always available to offer advice and demonstrate power tools. I don't know their first names, though. I should just do an Angie's Family Lore post, I think.
Also, I decided that if I'm writing this fictional universe, one thing I have no interest in including is LGBTQ+-phobias. I'm sure such people exist in this world, but I'm happier not including them on the page. So Chris gets to live in a world where everyone who should love them, does.
Fun fact, I have purposely spent zero time thinking about Chris's assigned gender at birth, because it's not important to the story and doesn't tell me anything about their character. I don't want to accidentally bias myself, so the only thing we will ever know about their body is that it's theirs. I think they use whatever type of body modifications (hormones, surgery, clothes etc.) puts them closest to smack-dab in the middle and makes them hard for strangers to "read". They're the kind of person who makes it visually clear that you'll need to just ask for their pronouns.
Chris barely moved off the couch for a few days. It was a relief, they thought, not having to go up the stairs to their bedroom. And anyway, they didn't mind being within reach of the TV all the time, since it was hard to sleep on a particular schedule right now. At least with the remote in hand, Greg and Lexie could keep to their schedules and Chris could turn on the TV and stay entertained until they were ready to sleep again, no matter who else was awake.
The visits were nice, too. Angie brought all the boys from her Safehouse by and Nathan was virtually always available by text if Chris was lonely. Chris was aware that they could have much more company if they wanted it; the day after their fall, their siblings had finally insisted that they tell their parents.
"You do it, or I will," Lexie had said, half teasing but half threatening, too. "We can't keep it a secret much longer and she'll be really hurt if you don't let her know."
"I know," Chris sighed. "It's just that I think there's a real chance she would fly up here, you know? It would just be... a lot."
"Yeah," Greg agreed. "But Dad can talk her out of buying a plane ticket, and you gotta tell her at some point. It's only gonna get harder. Do you want us to do it?"
"Not really," Chris relented. "And you're right. I was mad when she didn't tell me she was having surgery last year. It would be hypocritical of me not to say anything."
"Good kid," Greg said approvingly, clapping Chris on the back.
"We'll pour you a stiff drink when it's over," Lexi joked, and handed Chris their phone. "So just get it over with."
"Yeah, yeah," Chris complained, but they were smiling as they dialed the phone.
"Hello, Christinopher!" their mother said when she picked up. Chris had to grin. Mom had never once gotten their pronouns wrong, but she had insisted that they needed a long name, like their siblings all had. "So I can yell at you," she had explained, ignoring the fact that she had never yelled at her children before and clearly didn't plan to start now.
"So good of you to remember your parents!" Mom teased. "I haven't heard your voice in almost a week. What's going on up there?"
"Well..." Chris said, not sure how to start. Their tone must have given in away, though, because their mother was immediately serious.
"Chris," she said, "What's wrong? I can hear it in your voice. Tell me what's going on."
"Well, I'm okay," Chris started, aware that this was, in itself, alarming.
"That's confidence-inspiring."
"I know. But I am- but I broke my leg. But it's okay, I'm fine. I'm home and Greg and Lexi are here."
"Chris!" their mother exclaimed, still sounding worried. "What on earth! What happened?"
"I tripped on the stairs," Chris admitted. "It was really stupid."
"Well, yes, maybe. Is it bad? How bad is it?" She turned away from the phone before Chris had a chance to answer. "Honey? Pick up the phone. It's Chris. They broke their leg."
There was the sound of another phone clicking to life, and then their dad's voice. "Chris? Kiddo, are you okay? What happened?"
"I fell down the stairs," Chris said again. "I'm okay."
"How bad is the break?" Chris's mom asked again, and this time she stayed for an answer.
"Kind of bad," Chris admitted. "In like three places. One's right under my knee, one's right above my ankle, and then one of the bones on the outside of my foot."
"Oh, Chris!"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"It is not! I'll come up and take care of you. Let me see what flights are available."
This was what Chris had been hoping to avoid. "It's okay, Mom," they insisted. "I'm okay. Lexi and Greg are here, and Angie's been coming by, too." They tried to sound robust and hearty and capable. "There would hardly be room for you in the house."
"We'll see about that. Oh, Chris! Listen- put your brother and sister on. I want to talk to them."
Chris lowered the phone in time to see a text come through from their father.
Don't worry, I'll talk to her. I won't let her fly up. -Dad
Chris had to smile. Dad would work it out. He had been having versions of this argument for over 30 years and he was good at it.
"Greg!" Chris shouted. "Lexi! Mom wants to talk to you!"
They had clearly been eavesdropping, because they immediately rounded the corner.
"Nosy," Chris teased. "I'll put you on speaker."
"Hi, Mom," her children chorused.
"Hello, kids. Are you two taking good care of Chris?"
"Of course we are," Greg promised. "They're in good hands."
"Oh, I know they are, but I'm going to worry. You've had them in to see the doctor?"
"Of course we did," Lexi said, trying to keep her voice neutral and not imply that their mother was ridiculous for thinking they might not have.
"They called an ambulance," Greg added. "We picked them up from the hospital."
"Oh, good. So they have a cast and everything already."
"Well, yeah," Chris put in. "It's been a few days. I wasn't just, like, ignoring it."
"And how are you getting around? Isn't the cast heavy?"
"Pretty heavy," Chris admitted.
Lexi added, "It's all the way up over their knee. And their foot's broken- did you already tell them that?- so it's covering their whole foot. It looks very tragic."
"Oh, Chris!"
Chris shot Lexi an exasperated look. Lexi just grinned back.
"We're taking good care of them, though," she promised. "They're doing okay on the crutches and everything." Greg bit back a snort- Lexi had crossed her fingers as she lied to her mother.
"Well. If you two have everything under control. And you said Angie is helping out, too."
"She is. We really are doing okay."
"If you're sure. But if I need to, you know I can come right up there."
"We know!" her children chorused.
"All right, all right, you know a mother worries. Don't make fun of me! But seriously, Chris, we love you very much and we'll do whatever we can to help."
"That's right," their dad added.
"For now, let us buy you three dinner. It's the least we can do. You let me know what you want and I'll have it delivered, okay?"
"Thanks, Mom," Chris said, smiling. "I really will be okay. And we'll keep you updated on my leg, I promise."
That evening, with Luke sleeping quietly, Levi descended the stairs to see to his other responsibility. In the rush to make sure Luke was cared for, he had almost forgotten that Doctor Evers had asked him to check on the Ashleys and the governess who was looking after them. Levi tried to remember if he had ever heard her name.
It felt strange to be alone in the hallway where the family lived, as if he didn't have permission to be there. Levi had to remind himself that he did; that he had been explicitly asked for this. He wondered whether the Ashleys were still being difficult, and whether he would have to knock on the door and risk disturbing them.
As it happened, the door was open slightly and he could see inside to assess the situation, for which he was grateful. Fortunately, all seemed quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Ashley seemed to be asleep, though apparently not deeply or quietly. He could hear Mrs. Ashley murmuring in a discontented tone- although maybe that was just how her voice sounded.
Levi was careful not to make noise as he opened the door another few inches and leaned in to make eye contact with the governess. She was reading a newspaper, sitting up very straight in a wing-backed chair on the far side of the bed, which gave her a view of both her patients and the door. She was a neatly-dressed, prim-looking older woman with grey hair piled in a bun and a bandage wound around her head. Levi wondered at that, but couldn't imagine how he would ask her.
When she saw him, the woman smiled with surprising warmth and folded the newspaper. She placed it in the chair and moved soundlessly across the floor, closing the door behind her as she met Levi in the hallway.
"Hello, ma'am," Levi said, a little nervous, as he tended to be with strangers. "I- uh- I don't believe we've met, but Dr. Evers, he asked me to come and- uh- see about- well..."
The woman reached out to touch his arm gently, stopping him. "Please," she said kindly, "you must not worry yourself so. It is true, we have not met, but you are one of the ranch hands who is so kind to poor young Luke."
"Yes, I- I mean, Luke's a friend, sure, yes." Levi reminded himself to take a deep breath, but the woman spoke as if she hadn't noticed.
"He has told me much about you, and your companion as well," she went on, politely ignoring Levi's shyness. "Your kindness means much to him, and therefore to me as well. We come from the same background, he and I."
Levi's eyes widened and her own creased in a smile, as if she was accustomed to his reaction and inclined to be indulgent of it.
"Yes," she agreed with his unspoken observation. "We are very different. I was raised in the early years of these programs, when the techniques were different, and Luke and I were bred to different work. But the result is the same. My name is Josephine Lamb. I was given a surname that the children might learn the modes of address that their parents prefer them to use with ladies and gentlemen of greater years and standing than themselves."
"Pleased to meet you, Miz Lamb," Levi said, extending the courtesy to her automatically, regardless of her background. "I just came to see how y'all were gettin' along down here, and if there was anything you needed Cody and I to take care of."
"Thank you, young man." She smiled again. "That is very kind and conscientious of you. In general, we are doing as well as can be expected. It is a fortunate thing that Mrs. Ashley chose to send the children to their aunt and uncle when she began to feel ill; I should have more work than I am capable of if I were required to care for the children and the adults simultaneously."
"That's- that sounds best," Levi agreed.
"And I hope that it will keep them from falling ill as well. They are dear children, much more pleasant than their progenitors." She smiled at the surprise that Levi realized too late was clear on his face. "I do not much care for the Ashleys," she admitted, "But their children are growing up to be finer people than they. I hope one day I may flatter myself with some credit for that.
Levi found her method of speech slightly hard to follow, but found he liked it. It sounded learned and refined. All he replied was, "Yes, ma'am. I'm glad the children are out of harm's way, then."
"It is the best thing. Now, we could perhaps use some water, I think. Mrs. Ashley will likely desire to wash this evening. I may indulge myself, as well."
"I'll fetch it," Levi said. "Be right back- fast as I can."
"No need to rush," Miss Lamb replied. "I appreciate the assistance at whatever speed."
Levi tried not to clatter down the stairs. It felt clumsy and undignified to run in the presence of a woman who spoke and conducted herself with such high-born manners, even if she was as low-born as it was possible to be. He rather thought he would like to get to know Miss Lamb, especially if Luke liked her. Luke could probably learn a lot from her, he thought. Maybe with somebody to look up to, Luke could one day be more... well... hang it, he might as well be honest: more normal.
Out in the cool early moonlight, Levi filled two pails of water and carried them upstairs. Now, he moved slowly so as not to spill the water and was pleased to reach the top of the stairs without making a mess.
As he came onto the landing, he saw that Miss Lamb was no longer standing where he had left her, and then he felt silly for expecting it. He had been gone for several minutes. Of course she had gone to sit down. Levi placed the buckets neatly next to the wall and was about to reach for the doorknob when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to see Miss Lamb sitting on the stairs, still bolt upright and dignified, but shivering fiercely. One hand rested lightly on her bandaged head. He crossed the landing in a couple quick strides and knelt in front of her.
"Miz Lamb?" he asked, concerned. "Are you not well, yourself?" She did not answer and he added, suddenly wishing he had never been curious, "Your head's all bandaged- have you hurt it somehow? Do you need help?"
After a moment, her eyes focused on his face and she smiled wanly. "Thank you, young man. No, I have not hurt my head in any particular way. In truth, I am ill, as the Master and Mistress are."
"Oh, no," Levi breathed. "And you're stuck havin' to do all that work for 'em."
"Yes. Such is my lot, in the ordinary way for people of my kind." Her voice was a little less steady than it had been. "Just as young Luke had to continue to work when he burned his hand- and that is how I believe you met, is it not?"
Levi nodded.
"So it is for me. I have been very feverish for some days, but that is of no concern to my employers." She pressed her hand to her eyes and went on. "That is why I wear this bandage, which I keep cool and wet whenever I can. It keeps the fever at bay, so that I may continue to work without lapsing into delirium."
Levi hardly knew how to respond. "You're- you're real sick, then," he said, wishing desperately that there was something he could do.
"Indeed." She sounded a little relieved, he thought. Maybe it helped just to have someone to talk to. "I have been unable to eat without nausea. The fever is particularly intense at night, but this is true of my Master and Mistress, as well, and my suffering is of comparatively little importance. Should I become too weak to serve them, I may be forced to rely on you and your friend in my stead."
"We'll do whatever we can."
"I predict that they will continue to improve, but I will likely be laid in my bed when I am able at last to collapse."
"We'll take care of you," Levi promised, a little rashly. He found that he both liked and pitied this handsome, dignified woman who might have been his grandmother, or somebody like her.
"I thank you," she said, smiling as best she could. "Now, will you begin by bringing me some water? I ought to bathe my head a bit before I go back in to sit by the Mistress."
Levi brought one of the buckets over and in the time he was gone, Miss Lamb had unwound the bandage from her head. She dipped it in the bucket and sat quietly for a moment, worn out from her exertions and her fever.
"Let me get that for you," Levi said gently. He wrung out the cloth and bound up her head, feeling sorry beyond words for his new friend. "How's that feel?"
"I will last," was all she said. "Help me up, please, young man." Levi offered his arm, but it wasn't enough and in the end, he had to lift her off the stairs. She swayed as she stood and he let her lean on his shoulder as he put his arm around her for support. Walking slowly, he helped her totter feebly across the hall and into the bedroom. At last, he lowered her into the chair. Then he went back for what she had requested.
"There's a bucket right here next to you," he whispered, pointing. "Take care of yourself, Miz Lamb. I'll come back to check on you in a while."
"Thank you, young man," she replied in that same dignified tone. "I will remember your kindness."
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