The bedroom was slowly coming together. Moving boxes still cluttered the hardwood floor, but all except two were now opened and half emptied. Nellie’s efforts to unpack were interrupted by once again digging out the shoe box of photos from beneath the storage area under the house. She lounged against her turquoise beanbag, thumbing the worn edges of the picture of the family of three in front of the Eiffel Tower.

She had not asked Nathalie much more after their trip into Murfreesboro. She focused on getting Ash set up in his outbuilding, and then Nathalie had been busy with the internet installer. She spent the following day attempting to set up her room while being sucked into her phone for hours at a time, seeking out everything on smoke wolves and regular wolves she could. Nathalie had spent most of that day on the laptop, checking bank statements and making calls to check where her welding equipment was since she hired movers specifically for that. With a full day and a half of not talking–other than standard questions regarding food or where boxes were–it seemed too bulky and awkward to randomly bring up her father. That went double–triple–for anything about her mother.

“Nellie,” Nathalie hissed urgently, sticking her head in the room while covering her phone with her hand. “Text Winny and tell him I’m stuck on hold. I’ll call him back.” She straightened. “Yes, I’m still here. I just gave you the shipping number. Oh, blast, give me a moment to fetch it. Again.”

Nellie set aside the photo to grab her phone from the nightstand. She went into her messaging app to her contacts, scrolling down to Winston Herle- uncle. She typed:

She’s on hold with some moving people.

Her fingers barely left her phone when it buzzed. She paused before turning the screen up to read the reply:

Pinched family album from Nana and Granddad. Cheers, Winston.

She smirked at his sign-off. He was stubborn about signing text messages like letters. It drove Nathalie up the wall, and she suspected that was one reason he stuck to the habit so fervently.

She typed back:

Did the album scream when you pinched it?

The response was instant:

Cheeky. Cheers, Winston.

She set her phone aside and dragged herself into the living room, her body heavy from the prolonged lounging. Nathalie was still pacing in aggravation, seething as she waited. Nellie went to rummage through the fridge. She peeked to make sure Nathalie was still distracted before pulling out one of the marinating chicken breasts. She rinsed it and wrapped it in a paper towel, stealing away outside.

Ash bounded out as soon as the door was opened. He poofed into thick, black smoke, sailed a foot over Nellie's head, and reformed behind her.

“Snuck you some chicken,” Nellie said, half whispering. She tossed it away and sank to the frozen ground, pressing her back to the outbuilding. “As far as I can guess, you’re just shy of one. You’re too lanky to be any older. Unless smoke wolves are lankier than regular wolves….” She giggled at Ash stalking and lunging at the chicken breast. “Definitely not an adult.”

“Nellie,” Nathalie called, poking her head outside. “Clean out that outbuilding, please. I’m sure that animal has messed all over it. Hello, yes? I just gave you the order number!”

Ash had not messed all over it, but kept everything contained in a neat corner away from his towels and food dish. She had read about wolves being tidy. She was glad he at least shared that with his regular counterparts. She finished her cleaning by shaking out his towels and throwing them in a pile that hopefully was fluffy. It would have been nice if they got him a bed.

“Ash,” Nellie called, heading outdoors. “Ash, back inside.” She caught sight of the tip of his tail disappearing through the trees. “Ash!”

She rushed after him. She no sooner entered the woods when she heard Ash snarl and a sound like a roar and screech responded. A mighty gust of wind crashed into her, knocking her off balance. She fell on the hard ground, instinctively curling and covering her head with her arms. 

A quiet fell across the woods. Nellie stayed in her huddled position as the stillness stretched out, shaking from whatever it was that just happened as well as from the January cold. She lifted her head as Ash nudged her with his cold, wet nose. He was ginger with his front, right paw.

The woods were littered with branches as if a twister had gone through. The trunks looked steady, but there were two that had deep grooves like claw marks raked down them. Between those two trees was a white feather that appeared to glow in the watery, weak sunlight. It was the length of Nellie’s entire arm.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called out. “Perenelle!”

Nellie grabbed the feather in her scramble up. She patted Ash on the head and urged him to follow. She could feel she'd been bruised by branches falling across her as she trotted from the woods, Ash trailing her with small, pitiful whimpers.

Nathalie hurried outside, barefoot, to meet her. She threw her arms around her, pulling her into a crushing hug. She just as quickly held her at arms length to look her over.

“Are you hurt? Nellie, what was that?” Nathalie picked twigs out of her auburn waves. “Goodness, you are a mess!”

Nellie held up the feather. “Look at what whatever it was left!” She leaned away to put an arm around Ash, adding, “Can Ash sleep inside tonight? Look at his poor foot!”

Nathalie let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing her forehead. That was all Nellie needed to push Ash into the house in front of her, both of them barreling by Nathalie. Ash bounded into the bedroom, leaping upon Nellie’s bed with no whine or whimper. Nellie dropped onto her beanbag and grabbed her phone. She set the feather at her feet, and leaned back to capture as much of the feather in frame as possible to image search it. She narrowed her eyes, smirking.

“Well, I know it isn’t a swan feather,” Nellie said. “Not unless it was a mutant. …Oh, that would be horrifying! Imagine a fancy, white goose the size of a small car getting angry with you!” She looked at Ash. “Have you ever seen a goose?”

Nathalie stuck her head around the door. “I’d rather that animal did not sleep in here tonight, Nellie. I’m supposed to fetch your uncle from the airport tonight.”

“But it’s so cold out there,” Nellie protested. “And he’s hurt. And there’s a… a winged thing out there.”

“He can stay inside for now, but not for the night,” Nathalie said.

“Can I buy him a bed?”

Nathalie pursed her lips as she mentally weighed her options. “He can have a bed, but he needs to be outside tonight regardless of the bed arriving or not.”

Nellie squealed and jumped up, hugging Nathalie. “Thank you, thank you! Ash, come thank….” She stepped back, pulling at the split ends in a lock of hair. She tensed as Nathalie petted her head.

“I’m going to try clearing up the front room,” Nathalie said, her tone trying to sound cheerful. “Please don’t spend more than eighty dollars on the bed. I’d ask for much less knowing he'll just shred the thing, but I saw the prices at the store.”

“Can I use the laptop,” Nellie asked.

“Suppose so,” Nathalie said. “Just keep my tabs open. I’m planning a sculpture and don’t want to go looking for the references again.”

It was quick work to buy Ash a bed with the filters for size, rating, and price in place. Snooping on Nathalie’s references to gauge what she was planning to create–a ballerina, the pose not yet narrowed down–took even less time. Nellie moved her beanbag so she could lean against her bed, to have Ash behind her head.

“Mrs. Throneberry did say she saw a big cat-eagle thing a few days ago,” Nellie said, half to Ash and half out loud to the room. “That sounded like a gryphon to me, but she said it had white wings but wasn’t white…. No way they live here, right, boy?” She leaned her head back to look at the smoke wolf. “But you’re supposed to be further east too. Still… she was weird with how she described it….”

It would not be right to assume Mrs. Throneberry made up the story or mis-saw something innocuous just to join in the folktale conversation at the coffee shop, but people were prone to embellishing the smallest things or outright lying to contribute to these sorts of stories. Nellie understood that too well; no one ever believed her. She ran her finger down the spine of the feather, then input: griffin. After too many pictures of random people and poorly drawn cartoons, she retyped: gryphon. The images more or less showed the creatures as solid colors, nothing like the white-winged and black-headed animal described to her. She moved the cursor away from the Images tab to the All tab, now faced with stone statuettes, faded stone tablets, and links to random mythology pages, descriptions, and schools via their mascot–those respelling it ‘griffin’.

“The website previews all say the same thing,” Nellie said to Ash. “It’s like they copy pasted from each other. Isn’t that plagiarism?”

She chose three near the top. Sure enough, they offered the same information with slight differences. The last had a written description of a gryphon much more detailed: black eagle head, red chest, tawny lion body (sometimes spotted), white wings. She stared at the white feather. A smile spread across her face.

---

A clatter of a kicked box, a stumble of something–someone–heavy knocking into a wall, and the house seeming to shake with that fall all jolted Nellie awake. Her heart pounded frantically as her ears strained for more information. 

“Winston,” Nathalie hissed. “Careful! You'll wake Nellie!”

Nellie reached for her phone, squinting into the bright screen. It was 1:46. Nathalie had left around when she was falling asleep four hours earlier. She rolled over, taking a long breath to calm the adrenaline spike as Nathalie and Uncle Winston whispered a half-argument over time differences and messy houses.

It was odd she had such a strong reaction to Uncle Winston stumbling over a box. The commotion was enough to wake anyone, but her dose of adrenaline was overkill, especially now that Ash lived on the property. There was a vagueness in her mind as if she had been watching something, dreaming of something, that was exciting. Trying to pick up where she left off caused a swooping in her stomach, both of nerves and joy. She could nearly see the vast sky and mountains as she shut her eyes.

“Nat,” Uncle Winston called. Nellie’s eyes flew open. “Nat!”

“Winston,” Nathalie snapped, her bedroom door creaking as she yanked it open. “Hush!”

“Do you have a spare adaptor,” Uncle Winston asked, barely lowering his voice. “I can’t seem to find–.”

“Go to sleep,” Nathalie said.

“Sleep? Are you mad?” Winston chuckled. “It’s near eight AM.”

Nellie rolled over again. She leaned up to fluff her pillow, flopping upon it with a sigh. She stared at the white feather that looked more than ever to be glowing as it latched onto and sent back every scrap of light in the dark room. The mountains, swooping excitement, and touch of nerves made more sense to her now. She tried to recapture the dream a few minutes longer before giving up and dragging herself from her room.

There was a reading lamp plugged in and resting on the floor next to the couch. It gave off a warm glow that fought against the harsh brightness of a sleek laptop set on the coffee table. Uncle Winston’s pale face was washed in the cool light, darkening the lines on his face into a dramatic mask.

His blue eyes shot up from the phone in his hands at the floor boards creaking. “Nellie, lovey,” he said happily, climbing out from the sagging sofa. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her too tight. “Did we wake you? Of course we did, what am I saying. Far too young to be sneaking out.” He thumped her back and dropped onto the couch again. “Not that you have anywhere to run off to in this god’s forsaken place.”

She half cringed and half smiled. Nathalie talked positively of Shelbyville and Lynchburg whenever they were with each other, and she tried to do the same, but they were both starting to feel how different it was from Sunrise. She settled on the couch next to Uncle Winston, yawning hugely, and held her tongue on what thoughts she could add to his comment.

Uncle Winston was once more absorbed by his phone. The light was not as bright as the laptop, but enough to blend his light colored eyes with the glow. It lightened the silver streaking from his temples, and lit up the other grays peppering his black hair. He was the only member of the family–beside herself–to not be blond.

“Nathalie refused to let me on the Wi-Fi and the reception is dreadful,” Uncle Winston said. “Would you have the password? I wanted to check in with Margo before I started work.”

Nellie typed the password into the laptop and then the phone. It was the faster option.

“Cheers,” Uncle Winston said. He eagerly watched the phone attempting to connect. “Oh, I should do the video so she can see you! It’s been ages.”

“It was last week,” Nellie said, giggling.

“Blast,” Uncle Winston said as the call failed. “She must be in the shower already. Ah well, I’ll text her to let her know your mother didn’t crash into a deer after picking me up.”

She shifted uncomfortably as the phone made audible key-clacking sounds. Uncle Winston was so nonchalant, acting and speaking normally despite him having dropped everything and flown across the Atlantic because she now knew Nathalie was not her mother.

“Still find it all overwhelming,” Uncle Winston said without looking away from his screen, him now on the laptop. She nodded and opened her mouth to confirm her meek nod in case he did not see it. “It’s all right to let it be overwhelming, Nellie, dearie.” His keen eyes flashed towards her. “Just do not allow it to consume you. Much too young to have something as silly as parentage weigh you down.” He set his sights again on his work. “Do you wish me to refer to Nathalie as your aunt from now on?”

“I don’t know,” Nellie mumbled.

“All in due time,” Uncle Winston said. He clacked away at the keyboard. “She tells me you have a dog now. I highly doubt you call him ‘that thing’.”

“Ash,” Nellie said. “And he’s not really a dog.”

“Naturally, but I’ll always refer to him as such,” Uncle Winston said. He groaned at the screen. “That absolute muppet of an assistant cited the wrong file. Pardon me, sweetpea.” He struggled out of the dip in the sofa, snatching his phone up. “I stashed the photo album in my briefcase. Just mind you don’t spill any of my files.”

Uncle Winston stood at a loss in the small house before deciding the few steps into the kitchen was private enough.

It was creeping towards 3:00AM, so Nellie decided to return to her room to give Uncle Winston space to do his work. She rummaged through his briefcase for the album, finding it easily by the worn, leather cover among the paper files. There were bits of gold still in the indented lettering that read; Photo Album. She hugged it to her chest as she slunk back into her room.

The first and only photograph on the first page was of her grandparents nearly unrecognizable in their young age in a grainy, worn black and white wedding photo. The typical stiff, grim expressions common in old photographs were only half present with the pair clearly trying not to laugh. The next few pages showed them either together in well-known European places, or singular in them–usually her grandfather in front of the landmark and her grandmother smiling over a plate of food. She skipped through the next few pages that showed her grandmother growing larger and larger with Uncle Winston, then of Uncle Winston as a newborn–the majority of those him being asleep, the rare awake ones blurred with movement of some sort. She slowed when the cycle repeated over with Nathalie, then took pauses as individual pictures of Uncle Winston and Nathalie grew together. Nana was added back in, now growing larger for the last time.

Nellie stopped with her fingers poised to flip the page to the newborn photograph she knew would be next. She never thought much about Rhys before, but now it was different. She exhaled a long, slow breath, and turned the page.

There was not much difference between Rhys’s baby pictures and those of Uncle Winston and Nathalie; the quality was better, her grandparents older, and there being individual pictures of him with his siblings being the key changes. He was bald for most–as was Nathalie–with the baldness giving way to flaxen curls–unlike Nathalie whose hair was straight. She pulled at a lock of wavy, auburn hair.

The childhood pictures were many and varied with the vast majority being candid shots someone, likely Granddad, took when the three kids were not looking at the camera at all. Half of those Rhys was crying early on and grumpy later on, the displeasure seeming to come from something to do with Uncle Winston.

She dozed off at some point, because next she knew Nathalie was yelling for her to wake up, eat, and attend to her creature. Ash's eerie howls echoed as a backtrack.

Nathalie and Uncle Winston were sniping at each other over a plate of half-burnt toast. The fragments she heard sounded like whatever it was had to do with the time differences and Uncle Winton’s troubles hearing Aunt Margaret, so Nellie grabbed her coat and headed outside.

Ash did not bound out as he did yesterday. He nosed about and took careful steps, eyeing the woods with his bright red eyes.

“Little wary after that gryphon, huh, boy,” Nellie said, patting his head. “You know I’m on your side, but I can’t help thinking you may’ve deserved getting tossed.”

She hurried through the chores of feeding, cleaning, and breaking the ice layer on his water bucket, her shivering growing more pronounced. She wrestled Ash back inside with promises to let him out again after her own breakfast, and bolted indoors.

“Nellie,” Uncle Winton said in a scandalized tone, “are you aware this woman starts her day with coffee and not tea?”

“For goodness sake, Winny, you make the same complaint each visit, as far between as they are,” Nathalie said.

“You’ve set our parents half in the grave with your American habits,” Uncle Winston said. “I do hope you’ve thought on what investments to make.”

A thought popped into Nellie’s head as she reached for the toast. “Am I American,” she asked. She dropped her gaze at the adults’ surprised looks at the abrupt question.

“You are,” Nathalie said slowly. She looked to her brother. “She is, right, Winny? Or was it more complicated?”

“No, no, she is,” Uncle Winston said. “The complication was due to not having her mother’s input.” His face scrunched in disgust as he took a sip of coffee. “You think your father’s side is complex, Nellie, dearie, it’s nothing compared to the other half.” He added a disgusted noise to go with his next sip of coffee. “Honestly, Nat, this is pure torture.”

“I told you I have milk and sugar, you eejit,” Nathalie said, her lighthearted manner slightly forced. She ripped the milk from the fridge and heavily plopped the sugar canister on the counter. “I’ll be back in a moment. You two talk.”

Nellie squirmed in her chair as Nathalie disappeared into her room. The subject of her mother had finally been broached, clearly drawing a line between Nathalie and her role in Nellie’s life. She had not wanted to upset Nathalie.

“She’s fine, lovey,” Uncle Winston said, eyeing her from over his cup. “She’s the adult. You needn’t worry yourself.” He rolled his coffee in his mouth, shrugging at the adjusted taste. “Now, you being American. Yes. It took a bit of doing to find it out, Rhys was already gone and no help, but from my understanding, your mother was born of an American mother so was considered American despite being born and raised in England. It made things a fraction easier with Nathalie wanting to settle herself in the yeehaw country.”

“Was I not born here,” Nellie asked.

“Oh no, you were born overseas somewhere,” Uncle Winston said. “The copy of your birth certificate is in my study safe, and I cannot say where off the top of my head. Not England, that much I remember. Killed Granddad and Nana, poor dears, but they really did bring it upon themselves sending Nathalie and Rhys to foreign schools.” He scoffed. “I mean, honestly, what did they expect? They weren’t old enough to resist the warmth and sunshine like a proper Brit.”

“You have my birth certificate,” Nellie asked.

“Nathalie has the original, and I a copy,” Uncle Winston said. “Or both are copies. Rhys didn’t know where Nat was, or how to get you to her, or something of that nature, so first brought you to me.” He waved flippantly, sipping from his cup. “He was mad. Kept going in circles about your mother. Can’t say as to what about her, mind you.”

“Something terrible happened to her,” Nathalie said, quietly re-entering from her bedroom with an old shoebox. “He tried to explain it, but it didn’t make sense, as if he wasn’t sure of it either.” She set the box in front of Nellie. “He wrote me quite often after he left home. He only stopped shortly before showing up at Winny’s.”

Uncle Winston’s face strained in a tired, sad smile. “Rhys and I were not as close as I would’ve liked. A decade apart will do that, I suppose. He always just annoyed me, trying to tag along and mimic me, and….” He took a breath. “And I missed him greatly once he left.”

Nellie stared at the daunting old box before her. Her father’s thoughts were inside in his own writing. She had grown to not think of her father, to have no questions of him, and now he was shoved beneath her nose. She leaned away.

“It’s all right, Nellie,” Nathalie said softly. “You keep the box. It’s there if you ever want it.”

“You removed anything unsuitable, I should hope,” Uncle Winston said.

Nathalie rolled her eyes. “Winston, honestly,” she sighed. “He wasn’t off partying.”

Nellie picked at the soft corners of the shoebox. “So… because something happened to my…” she looked away from Nathalie, “is why I’m with you. What about her family? Didn’t they know about me?”

“Her family is dangerous,” Uncle Winston said bluntly. “Rhys was quite clear to not allow them near you. An uncle in particular.” He glared into his empty coffee cup. “Whatever it was that happened to your mother was his fault. Are you sure you have no tea in the cupboard?”

She allowed Nathalie and Uncle Winston’s talk about tea and shopping trips wash over her. She inched the box near, running her fingers on the edge of the lid. Her mouth was dry. She stood, and left the box.

“Think I’ll dress and take Ash for a walk in the woods,” she announced, and hurried to her room.

---------------------

I 100% based Nathalie's phone frustrations off that interaction I had with ADP awhile back when trying to get all the 401k stuff finazlied. Annoyances can be useful, lol. I'm liking the switch from hair stylist to welder with Nathalie too, since I can write down whatever ideas I had/have for future reference. I would like to try to make something else someday.

And enter Uncle Winston! He was not orignially supposed to be more than a name to fill out Nathalie and Rhys's family, but then I decided he should be useful. That was one reason I went with lawyer so that the legal bits of moving a toddler between countries with people not her parents could make more sense. Nellie doesn't see her family in person a lot, but she does keep in contact as much as a 12yo would, so there is a relationship with each member (less with Winston's kids because of age differences).

The set up is taking longer than I thought it would, but this was always planned as a serise with each book being shorter (compared to other things I write) so maybe most of this one is just set up. I don't know. It's a rough draft.

As mentioned, I wanted to have a Some Story Talk about the alternate endings that almost happened in Star Trek: Q-Dimensional. Some had even been written (or started) before I realized it just wasn't going to work and that the big happy family "home" ending was the best ending :)

I tried to record audio or video probably 5 times before something would distract or I wouldn't like how I said it or it would crash... so I decided I'd just write the dang thing. Of course I even had to start the writing over again when I forgot to save the draft in Locals and then it was gone. 🙃 SO... here it is at long last!

Potential Ending #1: Ace’s Closure

The story starts in Picard’s ready room where he’s replaying the day he was informed Ace was not going to being able to return home. Throughout the story, Ace's sense of “home” is questioned and challenged by Elliot, Mickey D, and some of the crew, but Ace is at a point where he seems to have accepted his fate despite it all. Even the addition of Ace and Gemini’s shuttle talk (not initially in the plans) solidifies that fact.

Then, after the reunification in Ten Forward at the end, Picard calls Ace to his ready room (I love things ending where they start). This time, there’s a video call from Captain Mullins (a nod to one of my trekkie friends - sad she didn’t get her screen time after all this!) who was one of the members of the board that decided Ace could not be returned home. She was opposed, but outvoted, and so she reports that she “may or may not have taken an unauthorized flight to Tal E” to go undercover and get information. I forget how long it takes to go through Starfleet Academy, but it’s been 2-3 years since Ace went missing; and so she finds they've set up a grave site for Ace. She also learns indirectly that his friends and family have continued on with their own next chapters without him. Ace tearfully and thankfully accepts this closure and is able to move on himself.

Why this didn’t make it: Basically, this scene felt like another ending. I had it half written before I realized it just seemed "extra" and possibly more of an epilogue than an ending. And while I did like the idea, you learn through the story that Ace actually has achieved this closure on his own, and I feel like that’s way more powerful and really shows his strength. The whole point of the story is him accepting where he is despite everything, and so I cut this scene and left it ending with he, Gemini, and the others accepting and appreciating their home.

Potential Ending #2: Gemini’s Next Generation

When Picard and Riker were discussing Gemini’s potential promotion, one of the things Riker adds is more away missions and late nights would make things harder if she and Hudson are wanting to start a family. From there, there were more little hints about this, including her seeing "her children" in the Aravasti reality and Ace’s pregnant joke (which was just going to be a joke and they’d move on to landing on the planet).

Then, as the gang reunites in Ten Forward at the end, Beverly contacts Gemini and lets her know her test results have come in, and she is pregnant! Lots of surprise and excitement ensues, and the story ends there.

Why this didn’t make it: For one, Gemini told me no, lol. When Ace makes his joke in the shuttle, instead of moving on, Gemini kept talking. She mentions she and Hudson most likely can’t have children, and then that turned into a deep discussion of the acceptance of where they both are (even Gem who at this point is just trying to save Hudson's life). Also, just dangling that “guess what!” and then ending the whole series (since I really do plan on not writing more of these) seemed kind of cheap 😀

Will Gem and Hudson have kids in the Star Trek universe? Maybe, but that’s not the focus of this story. So I removed most of the hints and let her focus on her own acceptance of her situation, and that parallels Ace's acceptance arc too.

Thus, everything worked out as it should, it just needed some working (and coaching from the characters themselves, ha) to get it the way it needed to be. I am quite proud of this and the other 2 Star Trek crossovers and had a fun time writing them. 

Now to figure out what to work on next 😝

The fluorescent lights gave off a dull buzzing as they glared harshly from the ceiling. The office was made up of a glass wall set to Nellie’s back to give a more open, inviting feel, but for her all she felt was everyone staring. She sat on her fingers, dragging her suede shoes back and forth on the cheap, stubbly carpet. Nathalie had made her wear her Christmas dress to the meeting with the principal, and the green tartan frock with gold metallic threads could not have been anymore out of place.

The principal–Ms. Pelham–wore a graphic t-shirt that had the logo obscured by a too-tight turquoise blazer that matched her pants. Her jaw-length hair was composed of tight, neat twists that were not uniformly black, suggesting she was older than she tried to come across. She leaned back in her chair, swiveling side to side in a manner that came across as her trying to mimic a teenager bored with life. Her office decor was littered with random pop culture figures and memes from office based sitcoms from two plus decades ago.

“You understand what a serious crime lying like this is,” Ms. Pelham said, waving a red pen flippantly.

“Crime is an exaggeration,” Nathalie said. She put her hand on Nellie’s shoulder. “She’s new and upset. She’s acting as a child, as any twelve-year-old would.”

“Ms. Herle, you’re making my job harder undermining my discipline,” Ms. Pelham stated. She peered at Nellie. “Miss Campbell said you were disruptive long before you starting lying and playing hooky. You want to tell your mom about you screaming in gym?”

It took a moment for Nellie to remember what Ms. Pelham could be referring to. She looked her over to see if she was teasing, but the tight line of her mouth indicated she was serious. “I… I didn’t yell. I simply said it was snowing….” She squirmed, setting her blue eyes on her knees. “I suppose I could have raised my voice–.”

“What is this nonsense,” Nathalie snapped, her fingers digging into Nellie’s shoulder. “Perenelle came to apologize for the worry she caused with her questions and failing to attend class. She’s done that.”

“Ms. Herle, will you calm–.”

Nathalie launched to her feet, yanking Nellie up. “Perhaps you misunderstood. Nellie apologized. That’s the end of this meeting unless you wish to call forth this Miss Campbell and have Nellie apologize to her directly.” She glared. “Although, with what I’ve been hearing about her, she may need to apologize instead.”

Ms. Pelham climbed to her feet, leaning heavily on her hands to stare down Nathalie. “Our teachers have our full support. If your daughter has been making trouble–.”

“Oh, apologies, I had no inclination that a child from the sub-tropics being excited to see snow was an issue,” Nathalie said scathingly. She held Nellie to her side. “I know my daughter, and she doesn’t scream willy-nilly, nor does she fabricate lies of the magnitude you accuse! Her asking simple questions related to a topic her classmates were learning about should not result in this witchhunt!” Nathalie wrenched open the door and shoved Nellie through. “Perenelle, we’re going home. You will start school here Monday. That’ll give Uncle Winston ample time to look over the curriculum and assess if it serves anyone.” She gave one last look at Ms. Pelham. “Winston Herle. Google him, if you dare.”

Nellie did not to speak to Nathalie as she followed her out to the Crown Victoria. She had not spoken to her since she stated she knew they were not mother and daughter last night. There were too many questions she needed answered, and she had no idea which to start with.

Uncle Winston–and by extension her grandparents and Aunt Margret–had helped Nathalie lie to her, covered everything up. That did not change just because Nathalie stood up for her; her deep dread of something being wrong was still there.

“Buckle in, please,” Nathalie instructed, starting the engine. She blew into her hands before taking the wheel. “It is quite bitter out, is it not?”

Nellie nodded and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. She sniffed, rubbing her nose and then her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Shall we go to Murfreesboro to attempt to find a new Pyrex?” Nathalie’s forced smile faded. She leaned her head against the headrest with a deep sigh. “Nellie… I should have told you.”

Nellie whipped towards her. “Oh god, it’s true!”

“Wha–? Yes, of course it is. I thought that much was understood.” Nathalie groaned. “They need instruction books for this.”

“I’m confident there are dozens,” Nellie said blandly. “TV shows and movies too.”

“Yes, okay, point made,” Nathalie said.

They fell into a tense silence, so Nathalie backed up the car and began driving. Nellie was content ignoring her. She wanted to get back to Ash. She still needed a water bowl for him, and he had not been fed that morning with her not wanting to leave her room and see Nathalie sooner than needed. He was probably howling his eerie howl, scaring away all wildlife.

Nellie’s head turned as they passed their road. “What are you doing?”

“I said we’re going to Murfreesboro,” Nathalie said.

“What about Ash,” Nellie asked, irate. “He hasn’t been out today, or eaten, or… or anything!”

“He can wait a tad longer, surely,” Nathalie said.

“Isn’t Murfreesboro far,” Nellie asked. “I don’t want to be out all day. It isn’t fair to him.”

“Would you rather I left you at school,” Nathalie said sternly. She tightened her grip on the wheel. “I have the internet coming this afternoon. We’ll be back for that.” She smiled weakly. “You’ll need to buy that thing food and such. I can’t very well be raiding the meat station at the Piggly Wiggly to feed him.”

“Really,” Nellie said, her face lighting up. “Ash can stay?” She gave a squeal, reaching to hug or pat Nathalie’s arm. “Thanks, M–.” She sucked in her word, and recoiled. She curled in her seat and turned to the window. “Thanks….”

Ash being allowed to stay felt more like a bribe than Nathalie doing something nice for her. She had still be referred to as her daughter during the tirade against Ms. Pelham, and she had been strongly advised on the short drive to that apology to not say anything other than sorry. It conjured dark thoughts regarding her adoption, such as it not being legal.

They were passing through downtown Shelbyville before either of them said anything, and it had been Nathalie that broke the silence pointing out a sign for Route 64, saying that was another road that would take you to Bell Buckle via Wartrace.

“Nothing in Wartrace whatsoever when I was last here,” Nathalie said. “It was nearest to Webb though, so my friends and I would visit just to walk about. The Webb School has a lovely campus, but there were times you just wanted to explore a bit.” There was a strained pause. “Of course, Route 82 is the direct road. We’ll pass that shortly. It even changes name to Webb–.”

“Enough with the directions,” Nellie hissed.

“Then talk to me,” Nathalie said.

“Am I kidnapped,” Nellie asked bluntly. She cringed as Nathalie’s eyes widened, but her shoulders relaxed when that surprise was replaced by laughter. She laughed a little, soon they were both roaring with crying laughter. Luckily, there was a stop light that was red that gave them–mostly Nathalie–a moment to gather themselves.

“Oh, Nellie,” Nathalie said, dragging her fingertips over her eyes. “No, no, absolutely not.” She suppressed a laugh before it could grip her. “I don’t know how that would work, to be honest with you. I did hear a podcast about children stolen and raised by their capturers, and I was so confused how it worked. What about grandparents? Do they just–?”

The car behind the blared its horn. Nathalie waved and started driving again, muttering curses under her breath.

Nellie exhaled, feeling warmer somehow with that one question answered. She did not feel the need to push to be positive Nathalie was telling her the truth; she knew she was. She had not really believed Nathalie, or her extended family, capable of kidnapping a baby.

“Is my name really Perenelle,” Nellie asked, frowning.

“Yes, of course it is,” Nathalie said.

“No, I mean, was I born with that name, or did you name me,” Nellie clarified.

“Oh, no, I didn’t name you,” Nathalie said. “I certainly wouldn’t have called you Perenelle if I had. It’s pretty, but not to my taste.”

“What would you’ve called me then?”

“I’m particularly fond of Lillian, but Uncle Winston gave that to his eldest, so that was out,” Nathalie said. “I suppose I’m glad it’s just being used.”

Nellie sniggered. “You told Ms. Pelham to Google Uncle Winston!”

“Yes… rather embarrassing now that my temper has ebbed,” Nathalie said, tinting pink. She perked up. “But, seeing your uncle is a respected barrister should keep her, and your foul teachers, from picking on you. Oh, look, there’s Route 82!”

“Uncle Winston knows I’m adopted,” Nellie said, making sure Nathalie heard it was a statement and not a question.

“I’ll have to try calling him while we’re out,” Nathalie mused. “I hate bothering him while he’s at work…. He may come for a visit if I beg.”

The ease and warmness that had been replacing Nellie’s anxiety and tension was slipping away. Nathalie was antsy and was calling on her big brother. Nellie believed she was not a kidnapped child–she felt dumb for it crossing her mind–but something was still off. Uncle Winston had some role outside of being Nathalie’s crutch.

“Did Uncle Winston give me to you,” Nellie asked. She paled. “Is he a kidnapper?”

“You’re awfully focused on kidnapping,” Nathalie said. “But, no, Nellie. Dear Winny is not a kidnapper. Man can’t even match his tie to his suit despite that being his outfit for near four decades. Thank god Margo has fashion sense.” She pursed her lips, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t want you to think ill of your uncle. He wanted what was in your best interests.”

“Which was…?”

“He didn’t want me to raise you,” Nathalie said delicately. Very hastily she added, “As I said, he was thinking of your best interests. He wasn’t being a villain. He’s quite glad I have now.”

“He had a say in you adopting me,” Nellie asked.

“In… setting up your legal guardianship, yes,” Nathalie said carefully. “He reached out to friends to get all the paperwork sorted.”

A pit formed in Nellie’s stomach. Nathalie was nervous around the adoption talk, and she had pointedly not used the term now. The shock and hurt last night when Nellie told her she was not her mother flooded back into her mind. Her mouth went dry.

“...I’m not adopted, am I,” Nellie asked in a whisper. She flinched at Nathalie’s nod, both now just watching from the corners of their eyes. “How… has that been working? I get that you could just lie and say my name is Perenelle Herle, but don’t they need a legal name for schools and doctors and stuff?”

“Perenelle Herle is your legal name,” Nathalie said. She turned the car into the Avenues shopping center. “Shall we park near the bookstore? Perhaps a croissant and hot chocolate to go with the rest of this conversation?”

“And a public place to keep me from flipping out,” Nellie stated coolly.

“You’re twelve,” Nathalie said. “If you act up, people look at me, not at you.” She turned off the car. “I’m much more at risk to cause a scene. Don’t you fret.”

Nellie crossed her arms tight against the winter wind as she stepped out of the Crown Victoria. She shivered, rubbing her stockinged knees together as she waited for Nathalie to lock, and check it was locked, the car. She wished she had been allowed to go home and change into jeans.

She plopped herself at a small, rickety table for two in the overly crowded with things cafe corner while Nathalie ordered. People seemed to order their drink and peruse the shelves rather than sit and chat with each other, but it was a bookstore and not an actual cafe.

Nathalie sat opposite her and tried three times to get her purse to stay on the back of the curbed chair before setting it at her feet. “Hope the floor isn’t sticky. I ordered you a medium. I thought with this unfamiliar cold it’d help.”

“Uncle Winston wouldn’t have had an affair… right,” Nellie asked, cringing.

Nathalie laughed, and quickly covered her mouth to stifle the sound. “Winny, cheat on Margo!” She patted Nellie’s hand. “I’m so sorry to laugh.”

“No, it’s fine,” Nellie said, turning red and trying hard not to smile. “He’s too obsessed with Aunt Margaret.”

“Devoted is the polite term,” Nathalie scolded. She frowned. “Well, commissioning a chocolatiere to carve her face into a mountain of chocolate to celebrate her promotion did seem a tad obsessive….” She gave Nellie a sad, warm smile. “You are a bright girl, though, Nellie.”

“For Nathalie!”

She offered up a smile to Nathalie as she left the table for their drinks. Uncle Winston and her grandfather were the only men that she knew that had Herle as their name. Other than her cousin Geoffrey, but he was only twenty-four and hardly counted as a man.

She stared at the shiny black table, unseeingly. That was not completely right. There was another name, but it eluded her. She had heard it recently, and recognized immediately who it was, but that name was said so little he was easy to forget. It reminded her of chocolate for some reason.

“Of course they misspelled my name,” Nathalie said, sliding Nellie her hot chocolate. “They always leave out the ‘h’.” She rolled her blue eyes.

“Did you tell her it had an ‘h’?”

“Of course not,” Nathalie said. “That’s too pretentious.” She removed the lid of her latte to allow it to cool quicker.

Nellie waited for Nathalie to resume the conversation. She tapped her toe as the seconds ticked. “Are you and me related?”

Nathalie wrapped her fingers around her paper cup. She nodded. “I’m your paternal aunt. Your father is my younger brother.”

“The estranged one?”

“I do only have the two brothers, so yes, the estranged one,” Nathalie said. She stared into the milk froth. “Rhys.”

That was the name. Like peanut butter cups, and she had heard it as often as she had eaten those overly sugary confections. It was difficult to put a face with the name. She had seen a photo of Nathalie with her brothers at her grandparents’ house, but Uncle Winston had been a teenager which put Nathalie barely in double digits and Rhys even younger. He had flaxen curls reminiscent of cherubim in that picture.

It now made sense why Nathalie always insisted her father was a good man despite him running out on her. There was a relief in knowing she was still connected to her grandparents, Uncle Winston, and Nathalie.

“Is there anything you wish to know about him,” Nathalie offered with a small smile. “I have loads of embarrassing stories from when he was a boy.”

“Why is he estranged,” Nellie asked. “Was it because…?” Her eyes fell from Nathalie to her hot chocolate.

“Was it because he left you,” Nathalie finished. “No, Nellie, it had nothing to do with you. Hey, look at me.” She gave her a firm look and a warm smile. “It was not your fault. Not in the least.”

Nellie nodded hastily, taking a shaky breath and gulping at her still too-hot drink. The discomfort in her mouth chased away the prickling in her eyes. It was at least not hot enough to burn her tongue. That would have been worse than tearing up in public.

“Rhys was,” Nathalie frowned, lips pursed, “different, for lack of a better suited word. He instinctively knew… something. I can’t say what since I am so dreadfully normal. But, there was something he could see or feel, or,” she sighed in mild aggravation, “something. It drove him.”

“Crazy,” Nellie asked, eyes wide.

“What, no,” Nathalie said, laughing. “I meant it gave him motivation and focus. He received top marks in school. He had dozens of internship offers, which he turned down.” Nathalie took a sip of her latte, still staring into the dissipating foam. “He disappeared once he finished up sixth form, and I, all of us really, got the distinct impression he would have done so as soon as he finished his GCSE exams two years early, but he didn’t want to cause us alarm.” She shrugged sadly. “Or it was due to more barriers for being on your own at sixteen than at eighteen, but I like to believe it was because he struggled with leaving.”

There was much to ponder over. Her mom was really her aunt, and the father that walked out on her was her mom’s younger brother. It was nearly worthy of those daytime talk shows back in the 90s that people still memed on. It did sound like she could blame Rhys for her own oddness, although Nathalie had not mentioned cryptids. It was still an oddity to see them, interact with them, and have them frequent life as they did.

A comment Nathalie had made caused Nellie confusion. “Why didn’t Uncle Winston want you to raise me? Was he going to do it?”

“No…,” Nathalie murmured. She drained her paper cup and picked at the cardboard sleeve. “He worried.”

Nellie waited for elaboration. She frowned as the seconds lengthened. “Worried about?”

“You. Me. My mental health. Your overall wellbeing.” She took a deep breath, putting her eyes on Nellie. “I didn’t intentionally set myself up as your mother, not at first. People assumed, and you had such trouble with my long name, that eventually I just… let the assumption turn into our reality. Winston worried I was blurring the line. Rightfully so, since that is precisely what happened and look at us now.” She glanced away. “But there was….” She swirled her cup, disappointed at the lack of coffee to distract. “You once asked why you were an only child.”

“You said because you were too old,” Nellie said. She giggled at Nathalie’s narrowed eyes. “You said it, not me!”

“Yes, but you could’ve pretended you’d forgotten,” Nathalie said. Her teasing smile waned. “It was half the truth. I was near forty when I came to care for you, but I never had any chance prior for children either. And I so desperately wanted them.” She laughed, tinting pink. “Too desperately for any boyfriend in my earliest adult days.”

“You couldn’t have kids,” Nellie asked.

“I had the misfortune of being diagnosed with ovarian cancer at twenty-two,” Nathalie said. “Once the relief and joy of beating that wore off, I spiraled. For years. Rhys was gone at this point, so he was not there to bear witness as Winny was. Your dear uncle was terrified I’d turn into one of those overbearing women that couldn’t fathom life without you, refusing to let you grow up at all costs.”

Nellie gasped, “Like that one story on that podcast!”

“I may need to be more careful about you overhearing these….” She reached over and squeezed Nellie’s fingers. “I was wrong to step in as your mother, and keep the truth from you. Nothing I’ve said is easily digestible, so you take what time you need to process it. I’ll answer whatever questions you have that I can answer from now on.”

“Where was I supposed to go if Uncle Winston didn’t want me and didn’t want you raising me,” Nellie asked.

“Just full steam ahead,” Nathalie said. She hummed. “I’m not quite sure. I was embarrassingly erratic during these conversations. I believe he tossed out having you privately adopted, but it was a mere suggestion from a panicking man.”

“Do Nana and Granddad know any of this,” Nellie asked.

“I… actually have no idea,” Nathalie said at a loss. “I never made any mention to them, but I wonder if Winston has. I’ll have to ask.”

Nathalie continued musing to herself about how informed her parents may be while Nellie allowed herself room to turn over this landslide of information. Her mom–her aunt–had cancer, and it sounded as if her life fell to ruin in the aftermath of beating it. This younger brother–her biological father–dropped her on her doorstep after vanishing without a trace. The photograph Nellie remembered suggested Nathalie and Rhys were five years apart at the absolute maximum, putting the silence between Rhys and his family at nearly twenty years. She suddenly felt the sadness over Uncle Winston turning her away ebbing into understanding. Upstanding Uncle Winston might not have been positive his derelict baby brother had not kidnapped her from someone.

Nellie smiled ruefully. This family had been upended all due to Rhys being weird. She would need to curb the oddity she inherited or else bring more strain and tragedy.

“I’ll toss your cup if you’ve finished,” Nathalie offered, interrupting Nellie’s thoughts. “We should hurry with our shopping and head home.”

“Ash must be starving,” Nellie said, handing her cup over.

“Oh, yes, Ash,” Nathalie said flatly. “Nearly forgot about that thing. Perhaps just a trip to the pet supplies. I can always order a Pyrex online once the internet is connected.”

They opted to drive to the other end of the shopping center with them both shivering the moment they set foot outside. Nellie thought out loud on what she would need to make Ash comfortable. Nathalie argued against buying him a bed, a collar, and the human grade food advertised all over the place, strongly stressing he was not a pet. Nellie was able to convince Nathalie to buy the expensive grain-free food with that same argument. They left the store with a giant bag of food featuring wolves, a large ceramic bowl with a bone pattern, and a stuffingless toy meant to resemble a red fox that Nellie insisted would help curb his destructive tendencies.

Nellie studied the toy as they started the drive back to the house. Picking things out for Ash had been a nice distraction, but now her head was spinning over the conversation in the cafe again. There was so much she did not know, or wanted clarification on, and trying to single in on one thing to break the increasingly long silence was daunting.

“Um…,” Nellie said, hastily looking at the toy she held when Nathalie’s eyes darted her way. “What about…?” She stuffed the toy back in the bag with a sharp squeak. “What about lunch? Do we have time before the internet or no?”

A smile played on Nathalie’s lips, but the strained expression on her face let Nellie know she was aware this was not what Nellie wanted to ask. Nellie was glad she did not push. She was not sure either of them were rested enough to tackle the questions around who her mother was.

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Nathalie's side is her parents ('Nana' and 'Granddad'), her 5-7 years older brother Wintson, a sister-in-law Margaret (Margo), a niece around 26-28 Lillian (and she's either recently engaged or has a long term boyfriend), a 24yo nephew Geoffrey, and then a 3-5 years younger brother Rhys who is Nellie's biological father. I think I messed up on ages all around though, because I said Nellie is 12, but I think she's actually 11 and turning 12 in two months. I should've checked the first chapter (I think I also said Nathalie had short hair in the first chapter but then I had her have it up in a messy bun in the 2nd).

Murfreesboro is an hour from what would be Nellie's middle school/the house. It's the shopping center I go to when I do the shopping center streams. There is no place there to buy a Pyrex, so Nathalie would need to buy it online anyway, lol. Also, with her name, I don't particularly care for the name 'Natalie' but I like it better spelled the French way with the 'h' in it. Originally, Nathalie and her siblings were going to have literary names. Nathalie for Nathanial Hawthorn and Rhys was going to be Rudyard for Rudyard Kipling, so I kept the 'h' for her name to better relate. Winston was 'unnamed older brother' and I though maybe they'd have a yonger sister too, but the sister was scrapped before any form and Winston wasn't named until after I decided I wanted traditional names. Nathalie having a serious medical something or another that derailed her life was always a thing though.

All the surnames I'm using for random town people and school people I get from the white pages for Shelbyville and Lynchburg. (Herle was picked specifically so I could write that scene with kids pretending to throw up as a way to tease Nellie.)