[stylist] Workshopping: Lucy and Lithe Chapters 1, 2 and a bit of 3

[Barbara HAMMEL]

It's an AWESOME start, Thea! I see some spacing and punctuation errors and maybe a few words missing here and there, but I LOVE the story.
Barbara

Sent from my iPhone

> On Sep 18, 2015, at 02:46, Miss Thea via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> 
> For anyone who has the patience to stick with this, as it’s rather long, I thank you.
> I’ve been working on this concept for a while, and welcome any feedback.
> Lucy and Lithe 
> 
> Chapter 1
> 
> The Choice
> 
> 
> 
> Lucy’s fingers flew across the iThought. She watched the images as they passed slowly by—slowly, compared to the kids who played theirs with a brain implant. Head lowered, she concentrated as frantically as her nail-bitten fingers flew across. If only she could get the images of split heads, bodies melting before her eyes, and blood out of her mind. “Off!” Mom had screamed at the TV, then thrust the iThought into Lucy’s hand and told her to play with that. She was not to watch TV again without adult supervision.
> 
> Lucy, shaken, had said, “The war, right, Mommy?” as much to calm her mom down as to ask for information.
> 
> Mommy had calmed down some. “Yes, Lucy.”
> 
> “Will they bomb Toronto?”
> 
> Her mom hadn’t answered, just pointed at the iThought.
> 
> “When can I get a brain implant?”
> 
> Mom had sighed. “Please, Lu, don’t start with that. I’m tired. Really tired, and I don’t want a fight. The implants haven’t been tested enough. They might not be safe.”
> 
> “How come other kids have them?”
> 
> “Maybe other kids’ parents don’t care if they’re safe.”
> 
> “Maybe the world won’t even last long enough to care,” Lucy complained.
> 
> Her mom had put a hand across tired blue eyes.
> 
> So, now Lucy played, without brain implant, and with scary thoughts in her head. Her tummy felt sick.
> 
> “Bed, Lucy.” Her mother’s voice was softer than usual. It shook in a way that made Lucy’s heart pound. Lucy turned to give her the usual “’Kay, Mom”. The words stuck in her throat. Her mother was all hunched up, her face hidden by a curtain of thick, blonde hair, her shoulders shaking.
> 
> “What’s the matter, Mommy?”
> 
> “Your dad … I think he’s taken to drinking.”
> 
> “Like Kimmy’s mom and dad? They hit her, you know.”
> 
> Her mother nodded. “Yes, like Kimmy’s parents.”
> 
> “Will Daddy hit me?”
> 
> “I don’t think so, honey. It’s just the war. It’s making people crazy.”
> 
> “Why did they start it then?”
> 
> “How should I know? Please go to bed.”
> 
> Lucy got up. So did her mom. She hugged her tighter than usual, which scared Lucy more than anything else. 
> 
> “What’s the matter, Mommy?” she asked more insistently.
> 
> “I love you, Lucy. No matter what happens, you’re still my girl.” 
> 
> “What will happen? Are they gonna bomb Canada? Are they gonna … Will Toronto disappear like … like like …””
> 
> “I don’t know!” her mother shouted. Lucy fled.
> 
> She lay in bed, shaking, the small solar-powered glass rectangle forgotten at her side. The iThought could do nothing for her.
> 
> She looked up at the ceiling, grey, except for a mural of white kittens and lambs lying  in repose, which her dad had painted for her eighth birthday, nearly nine months ago.Beside her, a furry cat with thin, flappy ears, also solar-powered, purred. She put a finger under one thin-tipped ear. It flapped. The thin, sharp snap! Sound didn’t make her giggle. She felt like pushing the stupid thing off the bed, but she’d get in trouble for it. Another present, since Daddy had said no to a real cat. 
> 
> “Stop purring,” she scolded. “You’re ticking me off.” She kicked at the covers. 
> 
> “Computer.” The unseen computer that was part of the walls in their SmartFlat didn’t answer. “Hey, moron!”  
> 
> “What can I do for you, Miss Lucy?”
> 
> “I can’t sleep.”
> 
> “Shall I sing you to sleep, Miss Lucy?” asked the computer’s soft voice. 
> 
> “Forget it. If I hear Frere Jacques one more time, I’m gonna puke.” 
> 
> “There is no evidence that repetitious music causes nausea, Miss Lucy.”
> 
> “Yeah, yeah.”
> 
> “A story, then?” it coaxed.
> 
> “You must think I’m five,, and stupid. I’m eight, and smart. How about some sleeping pills?” 
> 
> “Sleeping pills are not appropriate for children your age, and can not be given unless prescribed.  Without a parent’s permission, I can not open the medicine cabinet for you.” 
> 
> “Shut up!” It shut up.
> 
> “I haven’t slept for days, you piece of crap.”
> 
> “That is not accurate. You have entered at least one REM period every night this week. While that is less than you need, it is not accurate to say you haven’t slept at all.  Let me know if there’s something I can do.”
> 
> She told it what it could do with itself.
> 
> “Shall I suggest to your father that you think that’s what I should do?” Its voice was polite, but its meaning was clear.
> 
> She told it where to go and how to get there.
> 
> “I do not believe there is such a place,” the computer said, “but I could also send your father a note regarding both your suggestions.”
> 
> “Hey, moron, the only reason you don’t believe in Hell is because you never saw people’s skin melting off their bones. I have. On TV. And my father’s not at home. Shut up and leave me alone.”
> 
> Lucy tossed and turned. So did her stomach. Finally, she whipped off the covers. They made a satisfying slap as they hit the bottom of the white four-poster. 
> 
> “Computer,” she whispered.
> 
> Nothing.
> 
> “Hey, moron. Computer.”
> 
> “What can I do for you, Miss Lucy?” 
> 
> “I feel sick. What’s my temperature?”
> 
> “98.7, quite within normal parameters.”
> 
> “Whatever. Make me fall asleep.”
> 
> “I need permission from both parents before releasing the sleeping compound into the air.”
> 
> One will have to do, she thought. “Mommy!”
> 
> Mom came in, looking as bad as Lucy felt. “What’s up, Lu?” Her voice shook.
> 
> “I need something to go to sleep, and the computer won’t do anything.”
> 
> “I can’t do it, Lucy. I won’t do it.” 
> 
> “Aw, Ma, give me something. I’m going to go to school tired and ticked off with everybody.”
> 
> Her mother’s eyes focussed on her as if seeing her for the first time. She sighed. “I’ll make you a cup of that Tylenol medicine. Don’t ask me to do any more.”
> 
> “Why would I ask for anything more? Mommy, what’s wrong already? You guys are angry and sad all the time. It scares me.”
> 
> “I know, Lu. I’m sorry.” 
> 
> Mom put on the teakettle. When it shrilled, they both jumped. Mom looked as if she’d come back from a lot of scary thoughts. Mom poured a packet of Tylenol medicine that Lucy drank when she was sick into a cup of boiling water. The medicine fizzing in the cup was almost deafening, while a hand seemed to grip Lucy’s throat. The air filled to bursting with an unnamed terror. Lucy averted her eyes. Maybe that was the scariest thing of all: her mother’s eyes. Angry, sad, scared eyes. Lucy wondered if she’d done anything, but no. Her mother would have let her know if she had. 
> 
> “I wish Daddy would come home.”
> 
> “He will.” Her mom’s nails were as bitten as her own. “Drink that up, and go back to bed. Daddy’ll be home soon enough.”
> 
> Mom had poured herself a glass of wine. Her hands shook around the funny-shaped stemmed glass. Her knuckles were white. She looked sick.
> 
> “Mom, are you gonna get sick?”
> 
> “Lucy, please.”
> 
> “You look all scared. I feel sick myself. What’s happening?”
> 
> “Just drink your drink, baby.”
> 
> Lucy went back to bed after that. There she lay, always on the edge of sleep, but still awake, her tummy still roiling. She swore under her breath. The kids at school didn’t call her Lucy Blankety-Blank for nothing. 
> 
> A car door slammed, as sharp as a gunshot. Lucy sat bolt upright. She felt dizzy from the medicine, and fuzzy, but Daddy was home! She heard him come in. She got out of bed, stood on unsteady feet, and started for the door. Her hand was on the handle. It dropped at the sound of his voice.
> 
> “Anything come in the mail?” His voice sounded weird, like he was drunk. Daddy never drank. Terror rooted Lucy to the floor.
> 
> “No. Not even bills.” 
> 
> “Well, then you know what comes next.” that’s one good thing about us all goin’. We go together, and we go debt-free.” Daddy laughed without mirth, like he might cry too. 
> 
> Just then, the sirens blared. Sirens that had wakened Lucy since she could remember, and sometimes stole the rest of her night’s sleep. 
> 
> When she could hear again, her father was saying, “I’m sorry, Donna honey. Lucy in bed?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> Lucy knew they weren’t going anywhere, and she was too scared to put into words what she feared her parents meant. Her bile rose. 
> 
> “Did you get … you know …”
> 
> She couldn’t hear what her mother said, but she did hear her bursting into tears. 
> 
> Her father cried, too. “I’m sorry, Donna honey. Get her out of bed. You can mix it with hot chocolate, can’t you?”
> 
> Mix what with hot chocolate?
> 
> Lucy’s memories flashed before her. The world had declared war on itself for as long as she could remember. Soon, the fight had come into the home. The hugs were more desperate, the kisses sad, the words of love uttered with tears in their eyes. They’d once told her they’d leave Earth altogether. There’d been hope then.
> 
> But the last few days had been tense. Lucy’d lain awake nights, sick with horror of what she’d seen, and terror over what might happen to her and her parents.  Toronto would be bombed. She was long past asking why.
> 
> “I won’t do it, Jim! I won’t. She’s my baby!”
> 
> “We agreed. It’s better this way. Unless you want our daughter’s flesh melting off her bones. The nukes are falling on every major city. London no longer exists. Baghdad’s a thing of the past. It’s only a matter of time. New York, Toronto, it’s only a matter of time. You’ve seen it, I’ve seen it. Even Lucy’s seen it. If we’d found a way out, it would have been different. But we didn’t. Get on with it.””
> 
> “Stop it!” Mom screamed.
> 
> Lucy’s tummy warned her to get to a bathroom fast! Nausea propelled Lucy out of her bedroom and into the bathroom. She dropped to her knees and let all the fear and tension hurl itself into the toilet.
> 
> 
> 
> CHAPTER TWO
> 
> LUCY WEEK
> 
> 
> “Hey, princess. What did Mommy give you to drink?” Her father stood in the doorway, holding on as if it was all that kept him up. He staggered to the sink, wet his hands, and gently washed her face with them.
> 
> “Daddy, are you drunk?”
> 
> “Yeah, baby, Daddy’s drunk.”
> 
> “Like Kimmy’s dad.”
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “Come out and I’ll explain it to you over hot chocolate.”
> 
> “Dadd, I just threw up. I couldn’t drink any hot chocolate.”
> 
> “I just gave her Tylenol to drink. She couldn’t sleep.”
> 
> “Ah. Hot chocolate’ll make you sleep.”
> 
> “No thanks, it’ll just come back up again.”
> 
> “You … you come out. The smell of it’ll bring you out. I know you.”
> 
> “I’ll think about it.”
> 
> Lucy went back to bed, wide awake, praying she wouldn’t get sick again. 
> 
> “Computer, do I have the flu?”
> 
> She knew better, but maybe the computer would reassure her that it was only the flu.
> 
> “I read no viral infections, Miss Smith.”
> 
> “So how come I feel sick, huh? You’re so smart, tell me that.”
> 
> “The Global War is most likely the cause of your stress, not to mention familial tensions.”
> 
> Lucy snorted. “Oh, that helped a lot.” She told the computer to shut up during its servile promise that it was glad to help in any way. She told it what it was full of, for good measure.
> 
> Her parents were talking as if they were shouting. She couldn’t explain how that worked. Their voices were low, but tightly wound like snakes ready to strike. She’d watched a film about that. 
> 
> “I’m sorry,” her father kept saying. “What else can we do but say goodbye, Donna honey?”
> 
> Wait. What if they were getting a divorce? Bad, not the end of the world. Lucy’s stomach settled, then began to churn again. Even she couldn’t make herself believe that fairy tale. Saying goodbye. Hot chocolate. Something to mix it with that Mommy didn’t want to do.
> 
> She rushed for the bathroom again. 
> 
> “Don’t make me do it, Jim dear. Please. Just one more day, okay? We’ll find a way out. Just don’t ask me to … to …”
> 
> She couldn’t hear his reply, then suddenly he was shouting. “You’ve seen those people on TV. You’ve seen their flesh melting. They’ve wasted England. There’s no more Germany. Western Canada and Western USA aren’t on the map anymore. We’re on self-destruct and there’s not a damn thing little you and I can do about it. Chernobyls every day, and this time, it’s no accident. You want to go that way?”
> 
> “Yes!” Mom shouted back. “At least I won’t burn in Hell for … for …”
> 
> “Guys could you please stop fighting? I’m sick.” Lucy made herself believe as hard as she could, then said,  I know about the divorce, and I don’t need any hot chocolate. Probably barf it up again.”
> 
> “Divorce?” They both asked, surprised. 
> 
> “Yeah. That’s what it is, right? You’re saying goodbye.”
> 
> “Yes, that’s right,” her mother said, too quickly. “We’re, we’re getting divorced. Lucy, you’re not well. Go back to bed, honey.”
> 
> “What, and not sleep?”
> 
> “Yeah, and not sleep. A lot of us are going without sleep.”
> 
> “You grownups are stupid!” Lucy lashed out.
> 
> “I beg your pardon, young lady?”
> 
> A slamming bedroom door was Lucy’s only answer. 
> 
> “Jim darling, give me another week. I can’t do it.”
> 
> “Do you think I can?”
> 
> “You’re asking me to …”
> 
> “Okay. If we haven’t heard in a week, we’ll do it. Only we tell Lucy why and what we’re doing. We’ll give her the best week of her life. Then, …” “
> 
> Daddy, I can’t sleep.”Lucy called from her room. 
> 
> Dad’s big frame filled the doorway. 
> 
> “What’s up, princess?”
> 
> “I can’t sleep. Would you tell the computer to put that stuff in the air?”
> 
> “Just a bit.”
> 
> Lucy lifted a tear-stained face. “Daddy, how come the world has to fight?”
> 
> He shook his head. “Beats the heck outta me.”
> 
> “Who started it then?”
> 
> “Some say it’s radical Muslims want to take over the world or destroy it.”
> 
> “So let ‘em take over. At least we’d all stop dying.”
> 
> “No, honey. People who make war won’t stop even if they get what they want, and you wouldn’t like to live in a world like that. It’d be worse than dying.”
> 
> “I guess. It’s just I hate being scared and angry all the time.” Lucy started to sob. “I hate being scared and angry all the time.”
> 
> Her mom entered the room. Her parents gathered her into their arms.  “So do we.”
> 
> “You guys aren’t getting a divorce, are you? Tell me!”
> 
> They looked at each other for a moment. Her father sighed. “You know how Daddy promised we would go to a new planet? Well, we put in our names for a new planet to live on, and nobody answered us. We’ve asked to live on hundreds of worlds, and they’ve all said no for one reason or another. So, here’s what. We’ll wait another week. We’ll call it Lucy Week. Anyone named Lucy in this house gets to do whatever she wants. Restaurants, theaters, well any that aren’t in ruins, no school, whatever you like. Then, if we haven’t found a new home on a new world, we’ll drink some medicine that’ll put us to sleep, and we just won’t wake up. I won’t let you live through a nuclear horror, Lucy. I can’t.”
> 
> Mom nodded, tears rolling down her face.
> 
> “Will it hurt?” Lucy whispered.
> 
> “Nope. You just fall asleep on Earth, and wake up in Heaven. Grandma’s there, so’s Grandpa, and Jesus.”
> 
> “Will I have to go to Heaven school?”
> 
> “Well, all little angels have to go to Heaven school,” said Daddy. “Thought everyone knew that. You need flying lessons for starts. Maybe all kinds of stuff we can’t imagine.” 
> 
> “But let’s hope for the best,” Mom said, her voice shaking.
> 
> “Sure, we’ll do that.”
> 
> He tried for a smile. “Okay, Lucy Week starts tonight. What do you want, princess? No school tomorrow?”
> 
> Lucy nodded. “I’ll be too tired.”
> 
> “Right. It’s after 1. Bet you’d like a good night’s sleep. I think we can release some sleeping compound into your room.”
> 
> “Is that how you’re gonna do it if we don’t find a home?”
> 
> “The computer would never let us override safety protocols,” Mom said. “Try not to think about it. A lot can happen in a week.”
> 
> Lucy was asleep within minutes of lying down.
> 
> Jim and his wife walked into the livingroom, and fell on the sofa.
> 
> “Still a little drunk, Jimbo?”
> 
> “You’re kidding, right? After all that? Sober as a judge,” he said. “Oh, Donna, we were stupid, bringing a kid into this.”
> 
> “And if we hadn’t?”
> 
> He nodded. “I know. We would have already made that choice. Lu’s the reason we’re alive. For now.”
> 
> “I’m going to tell you what I told her. Try not to think  of it. A lot can happen in a week.”
> 
> 
> 
> Lucy awoke at midday. It was Wednesday. A school day, and she got to sleep in. She yawned, stretched, and rubbed her feet against the sheets. She played with the solar-powered cat, lost a couple rounds on an iThought game, and got up to bath. Not shower. Bath. With bubbles.
> 
> She pricked her ears up when she heard her daddy say, “We got mail!” Her parents were quiet for a moment, shuffling papers and brochures.
> 
> Daddy read the letter fast.
> 
> “Dear Mr. and Mrs., etc. etc.
> 
> Sorry to inform you … our planet, Piscan not compatible. We are a water-dwelling species not unlike your Earth dolphins. Please accept apology, yeah yeah yeah.” Rip.
> 
> “Government of Piscan,” Mom said as if she’d heard it a thousand times.
> 
> Lucy played with the bubbles and wondered how many times her parents had actually heard those words from other governments of other worlds.
> 
> “Telephone bill. Blow it. Oh, here’s another.” The air itself seemed to rip as her dad ripped open the next letter.
> 
> He swore. “Same ol’ same ol’. The government of Zanarax cannot accept you as refugees, as we are a peaceable people, and will not contaminate our culture with one so violent and vile as yours. Up yours too, buddy.” Rip!
> 
> Lucy got out of the bath, dried, and put her pajamas back on. Dad was ripping up yet another rejection. 
> 
> “Who was that?” she asked.
> 
> “The government of Xanubia sorrowfully regrets it cannot offer hospitality to any more Earth people, as the recent population boom makes it possible to feed and clothe only a small number of Earth people. Blah blah.” Rip.
> 
> “Daddy. You didn’t go to work.”
> 
> “I Get Lucy Week off,” he said, and hugged her to him.
> 
> A fragile happiness filled the small apartment, weighed down by the thoughts everyone worked so desperately not to think. Rejection letters were no big deal. No, not at all.
> 
> They bought her an attachment that her dad said acted like a brain implant, not for herself, but for the iThought. Lucy tested it out, won one round and lost one.
> 
> She and her dad played a double game. Then her mom joined in. They passed the glass rectangle around, furiously touching the screen, skirmishing with little red mushroom-men, who, when you won, burst into flame. The visuals and sound quality amazed them.
> 
> “Careful, Mommy!” Lucy cried too late. Mommy’s icon burst into flame. “Shoot.” 
> 
> They all laughed. Day One of Lucy Week ended with sloppy joes and ‘Stewart Little’.
> 
> Day two of Lucy Week started with sirens as shrill as they’d ever heard. All they could do was suit up, since there was no shelter. After the all-clear, they got dressed in their clothes, Lucy in her PJ’s. She had bacon, eggs and toast in bed, while watching cartoons.
> 
> “Gee, Mom, don’t you think Lucy Month’d make more sense?”
> 
> “To whom?” Her mother laughed, and turned away. Lucy saw her red eyes, anyway. 
> 
> “Did the mail come?” Mom asked when Dad came into the bedroom.
> 
> He paused, shook his head while Lucy’s eyes were on the TV, and said, “You know, most holidays have rules, right? Right. Like for Christmas, you’re not allowed to open your presents till Christmas morning. Same with Easter. No egg hunt till Easter Sunday. Well, it’s the same with Lucy Week. The rule is, no one asks about the mail. Okay?”
> 
> “Okay. Besides, we could always make it Lucy Month,” said the little girl.
> 
> Days Three and Four were smack-dab in the middle of the week. They shielded her like a blanket. There’d been trips to puppet shows, her best friend Kim had spent the night, and Lucy hadn’t said a word about why her parents were being so indulgent. 
> 
> Her teacher, Mrs. Talbott, brought her guide dog to the apartment, and allowed Lucy to play with Nipper. They played noisily, a perfect cover for adult conversation.
> 
> “You going somewhere, Mrs. Talbott?”
> 
> “As a matter of fact, I am.”
> 
> “Could you take Lucy?” Donna asked.
> 
> “I wish I could. I have a class full of kids I wish I could take. You see, my natural … that is, the planet I’m going to is so unlike anything. What I mean is, oh, I just can’t take anyone with me.”
> 
> “What is it, no oxygen?” Jim demanded. “How are you going to survive?”
> 
> “Not no oxygen, Mr. Smith. No light.”
> 
> “Again. No survival.”
> 
> “I can’t say any more. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. Lucy’s one of my best students. When other kids take advantage of my blindness in some way, well, let’s just say you don’t want to be on her bad side. I’m so very sorry. What do you want me to tell the class?”
> 
> “The truth,” Jim whispered. “I know some parents want it said that they and their kids went somewhere, while in reality, … But we want the truth.”
> 
> “It’ll give Lu’s friends some closure,” Donna said.
> 
> “Very well. When shall I tell the kids, and what?”
> 
> Her parents named a day, and told the teacher that she should say something that honors Lucy.
> 
> Mrs. Talbott wiped the tears quickly, relieved to hear Lucy and Nipper still at tug of war.
> 
> She kissed Lucy and held her long and tight. “Come, Nipper,” Mrs. Talbott said. The dog obeyed and guided her out the door. 
> 
> “Funny sort, isn’t she?” Dad said.
> 
> “How can anything live on a planet with no light?” Mom asked, then looked up at Lucy. “You must tell me more about your teacher.”
> 
> “Such as what?”
> 
> “Such as, has she ever displayed any strange powers or done anything … inhuman.”
> 
> “Dad, she’s human.”
> 
> “Well, why do I feel as if ET just paid us a visit?”
> 
> “Good one, Dad.” Lucy laughed.
> 
> But by the night of Day Five, Lucy found herself feeling sick again. They were going to … she couldn’t say the D word, not even in her mind. Tomorrow was the second last day. She lay awake, and thought she heard her mom sobbing in her room.
> 
> The illusion was wearing thin now. Reality was creeping back, without slowing its tread, without mercy.
> 
> Day Six flew by, throwing at her in quick succession its ice cream and chips, its monopoly games, and Lucy’s favorite movies, and Mommy’s all-time favorite movie, and Daddy’s.
> 
> They all sat on the floor. Night came all too soon. 
> 
> The last day of Lucy Week found her in a wet bed. Cussing under her breath, Lucy put the old sheets in the laundry. Whoever found them would think a two-year-old had lived here, she thought, disgusted. 
> 
> “Sweetie?” Her mom’s voice was a paper-thin whisper.
> 
> “I wet the bed,” Lucy said.
> 
> “Here, let me have those. This early in the morning, at least I’ll be first at the laundry room.”
> 
> Shaking, Lucy went into her bedroom, closed the door, and knelt on the floor. “Mr. Jesus?” she stage-whispered. “It’s me, Lucy. “Please don’t be mad at me for swearing a lot. I don’t mean to, it just slips out. I’m so da—I mean, angry at the war, and what we have to do tonight. Please, will you forgive me for all that swearing? I promise to be good in Heaven school. And Mr. Jesus? Can you say hi to Gram and Gramps, tell them Mommy and Daddy and I’ll see them tonight?” She could say no more, for the lump in her throat.
> 
> She threw herself on the floor and cried. 
> 
> Arms reached down and picked her up. “Here, here, that’s no way for a princess to act on her holiday.”
> 
> Daddy’s voice was as soft as fur. Lucy clung to him.
> 
> “Gee, you scared me, Daddy. I thought you were Jesus.”
> 
> “Now, that’s one person you should never be scared of. Where’s your bed sheets?”
> 
> “Mommy’s doing laundry. I wet the bed.”
> 
> “Yes, well, I can understand that. What’s for breakfast, pumpkin?”
> 
> She thought a moment. “Coffee.”
> 
> “Coffee!: Her dad said, astonished. “May I ask how you take it?”
> 
> She thought again. “In a cup, how else?”
> 
> He laughed, ruffled her hair, and went to put on a pot.
> 
> When Mom returned, Lucy was sipping tentatively at a dark liquid while her dad explained, “Now that’s called double double. Two creams and two sugars. How do you like it?”
> 
> Lucy made a face. “How can you grownups stand this stuff?”
> 
> Mom reached out for the almost-full cup.
> 
> “Well you see, as we grownups start to grow too much, we have an irresistible urge to drink coffee so it’ll stunt our growth. I mean, otherwise we’d be giants.”
> 
> “Dad …”
> 
> “Would I lie about a thing like that? I’m serious.”
> 
> Mailtime came and went; so did lunchtime. Mom cooked shepherd’s pie, Lucy’s absolute favorite, but no one ate. The air was thick with the homey aroma of supper, but thicker with tension. 
> 
> They were startled, not by a siren, but by a frantic banging on the door.
> 
> “Hey!” a male voice called from outside. “Anybody in there? I got your mail!”
> 
> For a moment, no one moved. Then they all rushed to the door and flung it open. 
> 
> He was old and thin and bald. He held out a package. “Sorry I opened it. You see, I got your mail by mistake. Thought it was mine. My name’s Smith, too, but I’m Henry Smith. You James Smith?”
> 
> “Yes. And don’t worry about opening it. What is it?”
> 
> “I didn’t read it all. I mean, once I found it wasn’t mine and all. But it looks to me like you folks have found a new home.”
> 
> A moment of shocked silence, a communal “Oh … my … God!”, and everyone was rushing the poor old man for the package. Brochures slipped out onto the floor, which Lucy caught as fast as they fluttered to the ground.Thin, glossy things. 
> 
> “Come on in, sir,” Daddy said, holding out a hand. “This calls for a glass of wine, and my wife’s best shepherd’s pie.”
> 
> 
> 
> Chapter Three
> 
> Goodbye, Lucy
> 
> 
> 
> Lucy jumped up and down, twirled, and whooped. “Read it, Daddy> Read the letter.”
> 
> “Oh, Jim darling!” Lucy’s mother was in hysterics.
> 
> Her dad was speechless, unable to talk for shaking and streaming eyes. All he could say was a mindless “Oh my God, someone’ll take us. Oh my God.”
> 
> “Daddy!” Lucy’s shrill voice cut through. Dad shook himself, picked up the letter his nerveless fingers had dropped, and cleared his throat. He gave the stranger a wan smile. “Sorry about the … um … Well, what I mean is, if we hadn’t found a place …”
> 
> The old man nodded. 
> 
> Lucy watched her dad as he took a deep breath, somehow stopped shaking, cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Smith: The government of Andorpha is ecstatic …” He stopped. “Ecstatic? Hmm.” He continued. “ecstatic to open our hearts and homes to you, granting you refugee status for as long as you may need to be among us. 
> 
> “Upon reading your application, we have found a most compatible living situation. Your house is to be on the estate of the Earl and Lady Dearheart, who have a daughter just the age of your little one. It is our hope that the little Lady Lithe Dearheart will offer comfort and cheer to your child, who will certainly miss her world and the things she is used to.”
> 
> “Cool,” Lucy whispered. “What a pretty name. Lithe. Did they send her picture?”
> 
> “No, princess. The letter says, “we are sorry for one thing. Our planet is in perpetual winter, with temperatures averaging forty below zero year round. We hope this still makes our offer viable?”
> 
> “What’s that mean?” Lucy asked.
> 
> “They want to know if we’ll stil go.”
> 
> “Heck, yes!”
> 
> “So the letter gives us an address, and a date when they can begin to accommodate us, and so on.” Dad closed the letter.
> 
> “This calls for a celebration, winter or no,” Mom said. “Mr. Smith?”
> 
> “Yes?” Both Jim and the old man answered.
> 
> Everyone laughed.
> 
> As they sat around the table enjoying the shepherd’s pie they were too depressed and frightened to eat an hour ago, Lucy asked, “Mister, have you got a place?”
> 
> He nodded. “Heaven, my dear.”
> 
> “Dad, couldn’t he come with us? You’re both named Smith. You could say he’s my grandpa.” Lucy’s smile, all the more winsome for a lost front tooth, covered the old man. “I’d sure like you for my grandpa.”
> 
> “Thank you, no, sweetheart. I’ve lived my life. I’m very old, and sick most of the time. My darling wife Judy is in Heaven, waiting for me.”
> 
> “Glass of wine, sir?” Dad asked.
> 
> The man nodded with thanks. “Call me Henry. You’re Jim, aren’t you?”
> 
> “Yes, and this is my lovely wife, Donna, and our daughter, Lucinda Sue.”
> 
> Lucy’s smile engulfed her father. “Don’t you mean lovely daughter, Daddy?”
> 
> The adults laughed.
> 
> “How much did you get off the tooth fairy for that?” Henry pointed a gnarled finger at the gap.
> 
> “I hit her up for twenty bucks. Got five.”
> 
> Henry chuckled. “Guess you can’t get everything with that smile of yours.”
> 
> “Most things, though, right, Dad?”
> 
> Lucy swung her legs happily till she accidentally kicked their guest under the table. “Oops, sorry.” She quelled the habit with difficulty.
> 
> “Just for that, you’ll have to give me a picture. You and your whole family.”
> 
> “Oh, Lucy,” her mother sighed, “those legs.”
> 
> “I’m so excited, Mom.”
> 
> “Ever think of dancing, young lady?”
> 
> “I’d sure like to do ballet or something. Maybe like ice dancing, like you see on TV sometimes.”
> 
> After supper and wine and some talk, they gave the old man a picture to take home, thanking him again and again for finding the letter.
> 
> 
> 
> Thea Ramsay
> <Thea.vcf>
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