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.)
