The line of cars came to a halt in front of the door of the mansion, and a load of kids piled out of them. Dizzy exited her own car as well, and took in the sight of the courtyard of the house, situated on a hill overlooking the small town they were to stay in for the holiday. In the distance, peaks of the Apennines cluttered the horizon. A layer of snow covered the ground, and Dizzy shivered a little in the cold alpine air.
The priests and nuns began herding the children into the house, and she was all too happy to get inside too.
The inside of the house was as impressive as the outside, which is to say, nice but not all that incredible. A warm and cozy place.
"Now everyone," the Matron called out, "please remember that we're only going to be here until New Year's is over. Since this isn't our house, let's be careful while we're here, and don't damage any of the things, all right?"
"Dizzy, do you know how to cook?" Sister Dorothy asked. At her hesitant nod, the nun breathed a sigh of relief.
Around the house, everyone was helping with the festivities. Kids were stringing up decorations, adults were puttering about cleaning the place and doing whatever it was that adults did. Dizzy quickly found herself in the shorthanded kitchen, and settled in to help Sister Francine and Maria with the meals.
Maria was a tall, brown-haired girl about Ranma's age. A year or so older than she was. She had, over the last few weeks at the orphanage, found Maria to be a quiet, gentle girl, and had become friends with her.
Of course, there were no other kids there her age. Both she and Maria seemed to be special cases in that.
They were chatting about what to make for dinner when Maria looked at her in surprise. "That's curious," she said.
"What is?"
"The dishes you know. They're the ones Ranma likes to make."
Dizzy quieted at the mention of his name. Just as she always did when it came up. Maria noticed the silence, just as she always did, and decided to change the subject.
"So what do you think of Ranma?"
Okay, not really "change the subject" so much as "go at it from another direction".
Dizzy looked nervous at the question, and Maria didn't press for anything. Eventually, Dizzy just found herself talking. About how Ranma had found her living poorly in the country, how he had been so kind to her for a while. She stopped before her story reached the more recent parts. It was... hard for her to put them into words. And besides, they had told her not to talk about it.
"They?" Maria asked. "Who's they?"
Dizzy hesitated. "I shouldn't say, I don't think."
Maria smiled with understanding. "Well, I'm sure 'they' have their reasons. Anyway, I think you're pretty lucky to have Ranma to yourself for that long."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because he's such an interesting person to be with, of course. Even if it's just maintaining a chapel, he'll make it interesting somehow. Don't you think?"
Thinking back to those, now somewhat surreal, days before she knew who he really was, she had to admit that being near him really was quite... something. Interesting didn't seem like quite the right word.
"How long have you known Ranma?" Dizzy changed the subject. "You talk about him like you know him very well."
Maria giggled. "Well, I hope so. I've known him for so many years now. I'm his oldest friend. He said so himself."
"An' worse for it, as far as Ah'm concerned, girl."
Dizzy jumped as Father Anderson's thick accent cut into the conversation.
"Ah remember when you came to us, bright-eye'd 'n shy li'l lass. In jus' a few years near that boy an' his friends an' you turned inta this!"
"Come on, Father Alex. You can't blame Ranma for that. Are you sure it wasn't because I grew up a little instead?"
"Ya see!? This's wha' Ah'm talkin' about. That boy has made you inta a mouth! Back then you'd be in th' corner cryin' whenever you saw me comin'. Ya never talk'd back ta no one! Nowadays ya always gotta answer ta everythin'."
Father Anderson oriented on the blue-haired girl, who was still trying to figure out why he didn't approve of Maria, who was always soft-spoken and agreeable with the adults. "An' you! You keep away from that boy, unless yer lookin' to become like him too! I like you the way yer now. Quiet. Not like the little hellion you 'ere before."
With that, Father Anderson walked out, flowing like a cloud of ill humor from the kitchen.
"Don't worry about it," Maria whispered. "He's always like that about Ranma. He's not serious."
"Sister Francine! Sister Francine! When is Father Ranma coming back?"
Sister Francine, who had been asked this question more than a few times sighed. "I don't know, I don't know. Why not just wait and see?"
The kids, bored from the day's lessons and no Father Ranma around to entertain them, glowered. Dizzy watched them as they sulked to their rooms. They had been at the mansion for three days, and like clockwork, one group of children or another had asked for Father Ranma before breakfast, before lessons, during lunch, after lessons, before dinner, after dinner, and before bedtime. And this wasn't very different from the pattern before they had come to the mansion. All the adults seemed to be rather tired of the questioning.
She wasn't so certain she wanted to know the answer.
Like the force of nature he was, Father Anderson stomped into the gathering room. Again. After a few days with him, she was convinced that his only purpose in the orphanage was to... patrol. And roar at any misbehaving children he found. That was it. He never seemed to be doing anything else.
This was quite in keeping with her old memories of him, actually. A decade away seemed to make it more obvious.
His eyes scanned the room and for a moment fell on her. She felt his gaze on her body like a physical force.
Luckily, someone diverted his attention.
"Father Anderson," Sister Francine asked severely, "for the sake of the children's peace of mind, and our own, when is Ranma coming back? Don't you have any idea?"
Seemingly blindsided by the question, though Dizzy really didn't how that could be possible anymore, Father Anderson took on a blank face, before shrugging and rumbled out "Ah've no idea. By Christmas, maybe."
Not quite satisfied but not particularly eager to argue the point either, Sister Francine accepted the answer. Father Anderson went on his way.
It was Christmas Eve.
The children were outside, building little forts in the snow and doing what children did on nice winter nights. Dizzy walked along the fence surrounding the property, lost in her own thoughts, staring out toward the lights of the town, or toward the laughter of the kids, or the snow-capped mountains in the distance, or the smoke rising from the fireplace chimney above the steep angles of the mansion roof.
Sister Francine called out from the door, and the kids ran inside for their holiday dinner.
Dizzy stared out toward the road leading to the house, as if waiting for someone to come. She wasn't really sure why she was doing it. After a moment, she went inside too.
Whomever she was waiting for, if she was really waiting for someone, didn't appear that night.
(Posted Sat, 01 Jan 2005 06:47)
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