Love Makes a Family

by Helena Mira

When personal tragedy threatens to take Nanny away from the Everett family, everyone gets a lesson in love, family, and ultimately what it means to be a family.

These are not my characters and I make no profit from borrowing them. The two characters that I have invented to expand the storyline ARE the products of my own imagination. I have ideas for more stories along these lines so as they say in TV Land. "Stay tuned!"

Love Makes a Family

Prologue

It was a bright and glorious morning and Nanny hummed as she prepared the children's lunches for school. Sandwich bread was neatly lined up behind three lunch boxes and the sun streamed through the newly polished glass of the kitchen windows as she made up the lunches in assembly line fashion. She was looking forward to the departure of the family so that she could clean up and get out to work in her garden.

Cheerfully the Everetts trooped one by one into the kitchen, the children to their cereal bowls and the professor sat down to his coffee and paper. After fixing his own bowl, Hal, the eldest, helpfully poured milk for five year old Prudence, but Butch, the ever-independent middle child, refused his help. Within seconds, milk splashed over the table, while the bowl and spoon fell clattering down. With a snort of impatience, Hal grabbed the milk jug from across the table, knocking over his own breakfast in the process.

As chaos quickly ensued, Prudence giggled and said, "I guess that means TWO unexpected visitors are coming."

Two spoons had dropped on the floor.

Once again Hal snorted and replied, "Just move out of the way before you get all wet."

As Prudence scooted out of her chair, Hal grabbed his napkin and began mopping up the milk from the table. In an instant his father roared, "HAL!"

The professor stood up as the coffee soaked his paper and splashed his trousers. Prudence giggled again while Hal began, "Gee whiz Dad, I was only trying to help. Why didn't you get out of the way?"

Tossing his hands in the air, the professor said to no one in particular, "I didn't want to wear these pants anyway."

Looking at the mess once again, he stormed out of the room and up the stairs. Nanny, who had grabbed a pile of towels, suddenly stood stock still in the middle of the floor. A petrified look crossed her face. "Oh no!" she whispered.

While the children looked she tossed the mass of cotton dishcloths onto the table and rapidly headed for the front door. Within a second the bell rang and Hal rolled his eyes.

"I told you so!" Prudence piped up.

Hal shook his head while he spread the towels over the table pushing some off the edge and onto Butch, who had dove under the table to wipe up the floor. Butch protested vigorously, "Hey! You got milk in my hair!"

Part 1: Where love is found . . .

The mayhem was actually quite normal for the Everett household. All they needed was for Waldo, their large sheepdog start barking and the scene would be complete. However Waldo had trailed out of the kitchen behind Nanny, his curiosity at the doorbell overcoming his interest in the goings on. Contrary to Nanny's initial assessment, the glorious day was about to be over shadowed by a dark cloud of massive proportions.

Apprehensively, Nanny opened the door to two solemn faces. She looked into the deep blue eyes of her cousin Emmeline, a young woman slightly younger but clearly a Figalilly relation. Her bright blond a shade lighter than her own and she was slightly taller, but the facial resemblance was unmistakable. As children, people had often taken them for sisters. They were as close as sisters also. Their fathers were brothers, also close in age and living on the same street where they had grown up as playmates and grown into the closest of friends.

Standing beside Emmeline was a young girl who looked about ten clutching a dark-haired doll in one hand. Trelawney Rose Figalilly, Nanny's younger sister was holding her cousin's hand tightly with the other. As Nanny looked down, the girl looked away and then up at Emmeline. Waldo opened his mouth as if to bark but even he knew something was terribly wrong. He lowered his head and gave a small whimper.

Nanny's heart sank. This was no casual visit, no surprise "popping in" to see how she was doing. The pain was evident in both faces, Trelawney's clearly tinged with fear. Neither spoke. Clearly neither could find the words to say whatever drastic occurrence had taken place to bring them to the Everett's doorstep. Nanny barely heard the professor's footsteps as he hurried down the stairs, nearly late for his first class. Confronted with the frozen tableaux before him he stopped dead. From the kitchen a pounding of running feet warned of the children's approach and Prudence cried out, "Nanny! Nanny! Who is it?" While Hal helpfully added, "We cleaned up the mess, Dad."

Uncertain of what to do, the professor raised his hand and shot a warning glance. Realizing that something was wrong, the children halted. Emmeline moved first, looking over Nanny's shoulder she calmly said, "Professor, we need to talk to Phoebe, now."

For once the professor did not shrug as Emmeline, with Trelawney in tow, authoritatively walked down the hall, into the professor's study and firmly shut the door. Butch and Prudence made a beeline for the door leaning on it to eavesdrop, but the professor gently pulled them back saying, "You all need to get to school."

"Oh man!" groused Butch. "If we go to school how are we gonna know what's wrong?"

"What makes you think that anything is wrong?" asked the professor thoughtfully. Obviously the children had sensed the same tension in the air as he did. His question hung unanswered in the air. Even Hal didn't know what to say.

Subdued, the children nevertheless gathered their things and permitted themselves to be herded into the brown station wagon. It was a silent drive as the professor dropped off first Butch and Prudence at the elementary school and then Hal at the middle school. As he left the car Hal turned and said, "I didn't want to say anything in front of the kids, but I think this is bad."

Before the professor could ask why, he slipped away and ran off towards the building as the bell rang. Ever the responsible student, Hal was not going to be late for his first class. Professor Everett looked at his watch and grimaced. HE was late for his first class, but since the children had missed their buses there had been no alternative.

He turned towards the university and then changed his mind. In the confusion he had left his briefcase in the study. With his mind swirling with unhappy possibilities he realized that without his notes there was no way that he would be able to focus his lecture. When he returned home he would have call in sick. That wasn't exactly a lie, he decided. Whatever was going on at home, he had a feeling that it was about to bring significant changes to his ordered existence, and the thought of that certainly didn't make him feel well.

Allowing Emmeline to take control of the situation, Nanny followed her helplessly into the professor's study. Her intuition told her mind what her heart refused to acknowledge. One look at Trelawney's face had betrayed the truth; whatever had happened, it was clearly tragic. Yet until the words were spoken, she could deny it.

Trelawney was the bright light of her parents' life, their little unexpected blessing in their older years. Nanny was a teenager when she was born, and she was only their second child. Despite the fact that they had wanted a large family, Nanny grew up as an only child until one day their prayers were answered. Concerned by their older age, the girl was made to promise that if anything should ever happen to them, Trelawney would be hers to care for. Nanny clearly remembered holding the infant in her arms, sky-blue eyes looking up wonderingly and trustingly. The promise had been easily given. The Figalillys were a closely-knit family. What to another might have been a burden of filial devotion was lightly carried. The love between the two sisters as Trelawney grew up had deepened over time, despite long separations through the years. In fact, Nanny had seen her barely a year ago when she had stopped home for a long visit before taking the job with the Everetts.

At that time, Trelawney had been a cheerful little sprite. Indulged by her older parents and all the rest of the family in the village, she charmed all her knew her. She was smart as a whip in school and not above mischief on occasion. A golden child with a golden existence she had never known hardship. Her eyes had remained a light blue, but her hair had darkened to a honey blonde similar to her sister's. It was long, thick, and somewhat curling. Looking at it, Nanny could see that someone, probably Emmeline, had tamed it into a tight braid.

But the brightness in her eyes had dimmed. They were reddened, obviously from tears, and she looked exhausted. Almost as if on cue she yawned and quietly went to her sister's arms. Nanny felt the warmth in her hug. Despite being a nanny to many children over the years, no child could ever displace her sister in her heart. As Trelawney clung to her, she tightened her own grasp and softly kissed the golden head. Her eyes looked up to meet Emmeline's. The cousins gazed mutely at each other for moment. Finally, Nanny broke the silence first: "Tell me."

With a sigh, Emmeline sat down heavily. Nanny and Trelawney followed her example, Trelawney still clinging but now resting her cheek on Nanny's shoulder. Involuntarily Nanny began to gently stroke her hair. Emmeline sat looking at her hands, as if they contained right words with which to impart what was the most tragic message she had ever had to deliver. She finally looked up, past Nanny at some unknown object over her shoulder.

"Phoebe, there's been an accident. Your parents were motoring home after a holiday at the beach, just the two of them. Trelawney hadn't come along because she was in school and staying with Aunt Alma. The road was narrow and the lorrie was traveling too fast. The police say it happened in the blink of an eye and they probably never even know what hit them."

Emmeline took a deep breath and Nanny felt the child in her arms shudder. She felt her own tears forming in her eyes. There was nothing to say. For once she was still and silent, unaware of her surroundings and only aware of the child shaking in her arms. Trelawney didn't weep, perhaps because she was all cried out. She clung to Nanny as if for her life and the unspoken words passed between them. She stilled and looked up trustingly into the eyes of her older sister. As the tears welled and overflowed Nanny could say nothing but Trelawney understood. With a deep sigh she closed her eyes and fell into an even breathing. Nanny silently wept as she held the sleeping child fast, as if clutching at this last remnant of her once happy family with all her might.

Understanding, Emmeline knelt beside her to murmur soft words of comfort, for she knew Phoebe better than any other soul alive. She shared her pain and the devotion to the beloved child in her arms. Emmeline had interrupted her life to bring to her cousin, her closest and dearest friend, her little sister. Emmeline was determined to drop the threads of her life and stay with the two until a new reality could be set in place. But perhaps drop the threads was not the proper way to look at it. Rather she was picking up the threads and weaving them once again with those of her cousin who had been her soul mate for as long as she could remember.

Sensing another presence in the house, Emmeline stood up and prepared to face the professor. It would be asking too much to expect Phoebe to explain the situation. At any rate, Phoebe was oblivious to the world around her. A cocoon seemed to have surrounded the pair, a buffer against any who might break into this most profound grief. While Phoebe had known the depth of the tragedy as Emmeline had stood in the doorway, it was her spoken words that made it real. She made a movement towards the door and Phoebe looked up.

"I'll tell him. You take care of Trelawney . . . and yourself."

Once again Phoebe bent over the child, lost in her grief. Emmeline steeled herself. Although she knew there would be no confrontation, she knew what she was facing. Phoebe's feelings for the Everetts had been stronger than any she had ever felt for one of her families before, although Emmeline doubted that even Phoebe herself knew how strong. Emmeline also knew that as the initial grief subsided and Phoebe returned to the rest of the world the conflict those feelings would engender would increase her suffering.

Highly intuitive, as all the Figalillys were, Emmeline had a further gift of deep insight into human nature and the ability to see below the surface of actions and thoughts. She could look into the future and see what challenges might unfold for her Phoebe. But Emmeline would be there. She would shepherd the sisters to the next phase of their sad lives and somehow, she would make the Professor and his children acknowledge the truth and let their nanny go.

Closing the door behind her Emmeline met a distracted Professor Harold Everett. She reached out her hand, "Good morning Professor Everett, I am Emmeline Figalilly."

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The Professor led her to the kitchen where Hal had done his best to mop up the worst of the spills. At least the table was cleaned and cleared, but the sink and counters contained the remnants. Emmeline said nothing as she glanced around but walked directly towards the coffee pot. Pouring herself a cup she gestured to the Professor who nodded. Once again, words were unnecessary to convey the seriousness of the situation. What Harold Everett lacked in intuition he more than made up for with acute powers of observation and scientific analysis. The events of the morning had been singular and he knew that they would not get any better.

As they sat at the table, they both sagged a bit, Emmeline from weariness and the Professor from discouragement. Emmeline decided that the simplest explanation was probably the best. Stating the facts and giving them time to sink in she finally said without hesitation, "Phoebe's first responsibility now is to Trelawney. Their parents have left her with full guardianship and the financial means to raise her. My Aunt and Uncle always wanted to leave things organized if anything should happen to them."

Lost in thought the Professor pushed his coffee cup away. His mind was a chaotic whirl of misgivings and contradictory feelings, assumptions and suppositions. Despite his scientific and logical mind, his imagination ran wild with the possible implications of losing Nanny. Of course she must care for her sister, yet it was she who had set his life and those of his children in order. Her presence ensured the stable continuity necessary for raising three active children. Their acceptance of her as housekeeper was based on the fact that she WAS Nanny. She was not merely there to clean up their messes and babysit. The love she demonstrated through her nurturing was authentic. She guided them without leading, and taught them to unselfishly love through example.

He had not realized it until this moment, but he knew that she had helped him to reconnect with them after his own tragedy and lure him back from the mathematical abstractions into which he had retreated after the loss of his wife. Unable to cope with the children, he had left them in the hands of competent housekeepers who were really not nursemaids or governesses and did not have the resources to cope with his brood. Neither did he. He knew that if she left it would all fall apart. And then he realized that the situation was actually WHEN she left.

As his mind reflected on the possibilities he was aware of the young woman beside him. She was so similar to Nanny in appearance and mannerism that it was clear they shared a bond stronger than normal cousins. He felt her empathy but refused to look up in case he might betray his own feelings, not that he even knew what they were. For a moment he even forgot that she was a Figalilly and did not need to look into his eyes to read his thoughts. Trying to push his own selfish concerns out of his mind he knew that he had to say something to let her know that he understood. He looked up but the words caught in his throat.

Someone entered the kitchen from behind and Emmeline stood up to lead Nanny in and to the table where she sat down limply on the other side of her cousin - for protection? She seemed to be sleepwalking. The Professor had never seen Nanny so subdued and colorless. For an instant he forgot his problems out of concern for her. He longed to reach out and touch her, just to reassure her that he was there for her. But he didn't move. She didn't look at him, but he noted that Emmeline gave him a sharp glance. The woman clearly missed nothing. With her hand on her head, Nanny finally spoke.

"Trelawney is sleeping peacefully in the study. Professor, your briefcase is in the hallway. You don't want to miss any more classes today. Emmeline, you need rest too."

Emmeline nodded. She looked and felt drained. It had been a stressful few days and then a long flight from London to LAX. She thought that the Professor might protest, but after assessing the situation he decided that now was not the time to talk. The women needed both rest and space to grieve. And he needed to get out of the house and away from the fog of emotions that clouded his judgment. He needed to get back to the intellectual escape of the university. As he felt Nanny slipping away from them, he felt his own descent back into the scholarly world and its clear, rational parameters. Regretfully he left the room. Waldo, seated by his briefcase looked up at him inquiringly. Cocking his head with a little moan he seemed to be asking what was going to happen.

Without a thought that he was actually talking to the dog the Professor said, "I don't know, boy. I just don't know."

Waldo whimpered again and he answered, "We'll just have to see what happens. Will you hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

With a respectful bark, Waldo padded off to the kitchen to assume his duties.

He had picked up his briefcase and was out the door before he realized what he had done. Sadly, he shook his head.

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The children returned from school to a quiet house. They knew that at least Nanny must be home, since Arabella was parked in the garage, but what about the two visitors? The brief glimpse that they had gotten had convinced all of them that they were Nanny's relations. Hal tentatively opened the back door into the kitchen and immediately smelled the scent of cookies baking. With a look back at Butch and Prudence he called out, "Nanny . . ." but didn't finish when he realized that the woman standing by the oven was not Nanny but rather the other blonde woman. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"Good afternoon Hal, Butch, Prudence, " Emmeline spoke gently reaching out her hand, "Would you like a snack?"

Uncertain, Prudence reached back and allowed her to take her hand. The boys shuffled nervously in behind. Although this woman was definitely not Nanny, her warmth and genteel British accent reminded them enough of Nanny to make them feel safe. The blue eyes looking at them were filled with kindness and concern. Prudence allowed herself to be led to the table where a plate of still warm cookies was sitting with glasses of cold milk. Following her lead, Hal and Butch also sat down, albeit uneasily.

Emmeline faced three pairs of solemn eyes. Taking a deep breath and attempting to modulate her voice into a calm, even tone she prepared to talk. Knowing that the children had probably been confused and concerned all day, she decided that quick and upfront honesty would ease that tension the best. But news such as this is never easy to speak, even if it has often times been repeated. With only the slightest quaver in her voice she began.

"Children, I am your Nanny's cousin, Emmeline Figalilly. She and I grew up together in England and have always been the very best of friends. I came here to America to bring your Nanny the saddest news you can imagine, her mother and father have gone to heaven."

Even little Prudence understood the euphemism and said, "Oh poor Nanny! Oh how can we make her feel better?"

Hal's response to Prudence surprised Emmeline. After all she had heard about the young man and his scientific, practical nature there was great empathy in his voice when he said, "You can't. Nobody can make you feel better when your Mom passes away, but if both your Mom and Dad . . ."

Hal didn't finish. Prudence and Butch had little or no memory of their mother, but Hal would never forget. Before the children could continue, Emmeline decided to finish she had to say.

"Children, the little girl who came with me was your Nanny's sister. Now you probably have never thought of your Nanny as having a sister, but she does. And now Trelawney is all alone. She has no one in the world but her only sister. In a short time your Nanny will be returning to England to care for Trelawney."

As she had expected, Emmeline was faced with three disbelieving faces. The emotions that crossed them were extraordinary, from disbelief to anger to sadness. The three Everett children had clearly absorbed Nanny's gentle lessons of kindness and understanding towards others. But while they all clearly wanted to feel sorry for Trelawney, when they knew that despite feeling truly sorry and sympathetic for her circumstances, their own self-interest was at stake as well. Oh how easy it would have been to feel sorry for Trelawney and say they would do anything for her if it had not meant that they were giving up the one who had, in many ways, become the heart of their home and family.

Nanny had of course always been kind and generous to others, particularly other children. However, she had always been THEIR Nanny. They never thought of her as someone with her own life and family. No, she had become an integral part of their family, in fact in their minds she WAS family. Her nurturing grace had healed the wounds that had driven them apart from their father. She taught them to love and respect others and themselves.

If before there had been a doubt that they were a family, Nanny's presence had dispelled all those doubts. In his growing maturity, Hal could feel, although not articulate, that while Nanny had taught them so many things about love and loving each other, without her guiding light these lessons would slip away. They were not ready for her to leave, but it had never occurred to any one of the Everetts that Nanny, who had always seemed so in control of all the forces of nature, could not control her destiny. Even she was subject to a higher power.

Looking at the children, Emmeline could think of a thousand different Figalilly family words of wisdom. But this was not a situation to be soothed by a "you must always have faith in the rightness of things" or "love makes all things possible." The uncomfortable silence was finally broken when Harold Everett entered the kitchen and Prudence cried out, "Daddy! Daddy! You can't let Nanny leave!"

For once Professor Everett was at a loss. He remembered a few months ago when Prudence's balloon had broken and she had wanted him to fix it. He had had to explain (admit) to her that Daddy couldn't fix everything. When some things were broken they could never be the same again. Prudence had eventually been persuaded to accept another balloon in the place of the first, not the same but perhaps a sister.

As he held his little daughter he felt a stabbing pain at the parallel. For this time, although he would have to find another housekeeper, he knew that the children would never accept her as they had Nanny. In the farthest recesses of his heart he also knew that he could never truly accept another woman to raise his children, to fill his home with . . . he had to stop this. This was about the children, the care of the children, and the stability of the home for the children. There was NOTHING else for him to concern himself with.

As he fought his inner battle he saw Emmeline looking at him intently. Something about her told him that she shared her cousin's intuition and ability to read and understand others. Over time he had come to accept that this uncomfortable trait was at the root of Nanny's innate kindness towards all, even the most unlikeable people. A propos of nothing he wondered if Trelawney also shared this gift. Well, he was certainly not going to get much of a chance to find out.

For the first time Butch spoke, "Dad, what's going to happen to us?"

The question, though natural enough, contained an aspect of bleakness. It was almost as if the professor had lost his job or the house had burned down. The loss of a woman who had lived in their home for barely eight months threatened calamity. Swallowing the professor simply said, "I don't know yet Butch, we'll just have to see how things work out."

"But we can't live without Nanny!" In his blunt, forthright honesty Butch expressed the feelings of all concerned.

"Well Butch, that's a little drastic isn't it?" replied his father. "Remember that Nanny always says that things work out for the best for all concerned when given enough time."

The words sounded a bit hollow in his mouth. However, Prudence seized on them: "So Nanny stays."

She was so emphatic that no one had the heart to correct her. Emmeline felt uncomfortable and wanted to get away. She didn't like these kinds of scenes and yet she felt responsible. After all, it was she who had created this catastrophe by bringing the news. Her concern for Phoebe and Trelawney had blinded her to possibility of becoming entangled of the emotions of the Everett family themselves. Possibility? No. Probability? Maybe. Certainty. Yes. Being a Figalilly it was impossible for her to venture into this virtual ocean of churning emotions and remain untouched.

Her ability to read the feelings of all concerned meant that she knew the depths of conflict swirling beneath the apparent resignation of the Professor and the boys. She knew Prudence's absolute denial. She knew not only the hearts of each of the Everetts, but of Phoebe herself. And left long enough in these surroundings, Trelawney would know as well. She was a deeply sensitive child, particularly to mood and atmosphere. At the moment her grief overwhelmed her ability to look outside of herself, but once she did . . . Emmeline did not want to think about it. On the one hand, she wanted to get Phoebe and Trelawney out of the situation as quickly as possible. On the other, she knew that Phoebe would never leave the Everetts in such a state of turmoil.

Taking a page from her cousin's book she declared that she was going to make dinner and could everyone please clear the kitchen and let her get to work. She knew that Phoebe would stay upstairs with Trelawney for the night. She could bring something for them later. She realized that the Everetts would not be especially hungry, but allowing them to skip meals would only heighten the emotional tenor and anxiety.

Besides, life must go one. They all had lives to pick up tomorrow outside of the house. Professor Everett also needed to become used to being the sole emotional support for his children. She knew he wanted to escape, but she wouldn't let him. He might be able to find someone to cook, clean and in general run the house, but he would never find another Nanny to give the children the emotional support and love that they had lacked until she came. As their father, that was his job. And the sooner he realized it, the better.

Part 2: "A greater love no man hath . . ."

Grief as searing, deep, and painful as the one that enveloped the Figallillys could not be sustained for long. As the traumatic psychological wound began to heal, emotions moderated into a steadier, more tolerable pain. Within a few days, Nanny and Trelawney had collected themselves to the point where they could interact with their surroundings in a relatively normal level. Both were certainly subdued.

The Everetts no longer heard the emphatic click, click of Nanny's shoes coming down the hall or into the kitchen. Emmeline had taken over most of the work anyway. She was quieter by temperament and less of a "force of nature" when it came to organizing and getting things done. Meals were served, laundry cleaned, and the house kept tidy. Different from her cousin, she kept more to herself and out of everyone's business.

While it had often crossed the Professor's mind that Nanny had perhaps inserted herself too much into their lives, he suddenly realized that he missed her influence on the children. Hal was more engrossed in his schoolwork, Butch in the avoidance of his, and Prudence began to look for more attention. The Professor began to realize anew that Nanny had provided much more than housekeeping and order.

Emmeline was not a nanny, but she kept the house running, first by doing things herself and then by helping Nanny. They worked side by side, often softly speaking about their lives and the past. It was a world in which none of the Everetts could share. Lost in herself for once, Nanny pulled back from the family. The children, sensing her need for space, respected the emotional boundaries she established.

Trelawney was seen more often, but she remained shy. She was not exactly sure of how she was expected to act in this household where she was the sister of the housekeeper but also accorded something of the status of a guest. Conversely the Everett children were not sure of how to approach her. Too young to fully comprehend her emotional vulnerability, they nevertheless sensed her pain.

She found it easier when the children and the professor were out for the day. She would find a corner near where her sister was working to read or talk to her doll. Since the tragedy, she and the doll had been inseparable. Tessa had always been her confidante. Like most little girls who were either only children, or raised as such, she had an active imagination and was able to create her own play worlds. Tessa was a favorite and Trelawney had never been away from her. Despite her age, she was more real to the little girl than many of the adults around her.

Trelawney also loved to play the piano. She could play a number of classical pieces from memory and was particularly fond of Mozart. One day as Hal walked in from school he could hear the piano from the living room in the kitchen. He knew that it had to be Trelawney since there was no one else in the Everett household that could play so well. He quietly walked into the living room and stood beside the old upright. He listened intently and was amazed at the grace and flexibility of Trelawney's long, slender hands. Finishing a measure, she looked up at him.

"Don't stop, that was amazing," said Hal carefully, not wanting to frighten her away.

Trelawney looked down at the keys and replied simply, "It was my mother's favorite piece. When she was sad I used to play it for her and she would smile."

She shifted a bit and Hal sat down on the bench beside her. He considered his answer carefully. Although he wasn't particularly sensitive or intuitive, a lost mother was something he knew. In fact he could remember her playing on this same piano when he was little. This may have initially drawn him in, but now his inner sense of kindness wanted to reach out to the girl in some small way.

"When my mother was sad, I used to bring her flowers. It made her smile, but towards the end it made her cry. I used to feel bad because I couldn't make her happy any more. I didn't know why until she went away. I guess she knew that she was going away."

Trelawney was interested. She was always interested in other people and Hal brought up an issue that she had been curious about. Why was there no mother in the Everett household? Unsure of how to ask, she finally asked, "Where did she go?"

Now it was Hal's turn to be unsure of how to respond, obviously the subject was awkward at best. However the words just came out, "She went to heaven."

"Is she an angel?" asked Trelawney. "My Mum is in heaven too and I know that she is an angel, and my Papa too. Maybe they are all angels together. Do you think they are all angels together?"

Hal was completely at a loss. He wasn't sure really about heaven or angels. He was just repeating what everyone had always told him. But since Trelawney seemed to be reaching out he didn't want to discourage her.

"I guess they could be . . . together I mean." Hal hoped that the conversation was over.

But Trelawney persisted. "I think that they are angels together. In fact I think that they may be having their tea and are looking down at us now from heaven and smiling. Do you think that angels have tea? I do. Tea is such a lovely thing that I can't imagine that a place as wonderful as heaven could do without it. And of course you know that angels can look down from heaven and see everything that is happening on earth. Yes I do believe that right now at this very moment they are having their afternoon tea and looking down at us and smiling."

Trelawney was if nothing else a whimsical child. Brought up on a combination of fairy tales and Sunday school stories of miraculous happenings in the Bible she had not yet quite sorted out the difference. Her imagination was as rich as either Butch's or Prudence's, but as an older child she was able to express it far more articulately. Even at her young age, she was beginning to develop that famous Figalilly talent for storytelling. Now she began to enthusiastically spin a yarn about parents in heaven looking down on their children on earth and smiling. Not noticing that the boy beside her was silent from discomfort rather than keen interest she became lost in her own fantasy.

While this might have been soothing for her perhaps even therapeutic, it was too much for pragmatic Hal. Feeling that he could not escape without hurting the little girl's feelings he sat and waited. Fortunately Nanny walked in and said to Trelawney, "I wondered why you had stopped playing. I see you were getting to know Hal."

"Oh yes Phoebe," replied the girl brightly. "We were just discussing how our mothers were both angels in heaven and smiling down on us."

One look at Hal's face told Nanny that the discussion had been one-sided. She said, "Hal why don't you go find Butch? I think he needs your help with his homework."

With a sigh of relief and gratitude, Hal walked away from the piano. He turned back to see Nanny watching him. Her little smile told him that she was pleased that he had spoken to Trelawney. The girl picked up her piano piece where she had left off, still talking to herself about angels.

Prudence walked down the hall towards her bedroom and stopped when she heard a voice coming from Nanny's room. Realizing that it was Trelawney she wondered whom she was talking to. It was not long before she realized that it was someone named Tessa and that Tessa was not answering. Like any other five-year-old girl, Prudence immediately knew that such a conversation could only mean one thing. Recalling that she had often seen Trelawney with a doll she had an idea and went to her own room and picked up Sally, one of her own favorite dolls.

As Prudence softly entered the room Trelawney stopped talking and said, "Hello Prudence."

It was a very "Nanny-like" thing for her to do, but Prudence was unfazed. With the simple reasoning of a child she just assumed it was something that all Figalillys did. Having gotten use to it with Nanny she continued in and asked, "Would you and Tessa like to come to a tea party? Sally wants to meet Tessa."

Trelawney turned to see Prudence standing in the door with her doll in hand. She smiled shyly and pondered for a moment and before asking Tessa, "What do you think?"

She looked at the doll and appeared to be listening intently. Although Prudence couldn't really hear anything she had the strongest feeling that Tessa was asking what would be served. Without thinking she replied, "I can go get some tea and cookies from the kitchen."

Trelawney rewarded her with a broader, if still somewhat sad smile. Without skipping a beat she said, "Then we'll come, Tessa loves biscuits."

Prudence flew out of the room and was down the stairs in an instant. Seeing Nanny and Emmeline having tea in the kitchen she breathlessly asked, "Can I have a tea pot and four cups in my room please, and some biscuits too? Please?"

The two women looked at each other and smiled at the use of the English word "biscuits", and Nanny asked, "And what would that be for?"

"We're going to have a tea party, Trelawney and Tessa and Sally and me. And Tessa loves biscuits." Then remembering that she really wasn't supposed to have food in her room Prudence added, "Just this once please."

Emmeline stood up, but Nanny replied, "I'll get it. You can go upstairs, Prudence, and get organized for your tea."

After the little girl went skipping off, Nanny said, "First Hal and now Prudence. Perhaps the children are becoming accustomed to the idea of Trelawney."

She quickly went over to the pantry to get the necessary items. Emmeline was not so optimistic however. Just because the Everett children were accepting the IDEA of Nanny having a sister did not mean that they were any closer to accepting Nanny's leaving them. If young Trelawney was emerging from the deepest depths of her grief, she knew that anyone who met her would be charmed. But all the charm in the world would be no salve for the Everett family's own grief at the coming parting. Not for the first time, a thought struck Emmeline that she made her distinctly uncomfortable. Given to premonitions, she was hoping for that for once her radar was off track.

As Nanny approached Prudence's bedroom she could hear the girls talking about "inconsequentials." If one didn't know any better, they were simply two sweet little girls getting to know one another. As she walked into the room and saw them sitting across from one another, each with a doll seated beside her, she was struck by the similarity. It wasn't just the blonde hair and blue eyes. No, their light chatter betrayed an understanding of a deeper nature. They hardly knew each other and yet they KNEW each other, almost as if they were long lost friends getting to know one another again. Trelawney saw her first and cried, "Oh Phoebe, YOU brought our tea."

With all the grandeur of a head-house parlor maid serving tea to her ladies, Nanny placed the tray down on the table with a flourish and passed out the goodies. Picking up on the game, Trelawney turned to Prudence and said, "Shall you pour or I, my dear Prudence?"

"Oh it would be great if you would, my good Trelawney," Prudence replied, who couldn't have poured the tea anyway since she wasn't allowed. She wasn't exactly sure of what "my good" meant, but having heard it in some of the stories Nanny read her, she thought it was appropriate.

"Will that be all mi' ladies?"

"Thank you, Nanny," replied Prudence seriously, "You may go."

Smiling to herself, Nanny turned. However she was barely outside the door as her smile faded and she held herself up.

"Dear Phoebe, I don't know what I would do without her," Trelawney was saying.

"Well she is the best Nanny in the world," answered Prudence. "I can't imagine having any other."

"Tessa would also be lost without her. She was just telling me the other day that Phoebe was the best sister in the world and that I was lucky to have her."

"Sally likes Nanny too!" piped up Prudence. "We can't go to sleep at night without a good night kiss."

Tears formed in Phoebe's eyes. She never kissed the doll good night. It became obvious that the girls were using their dolls to help them talk with one another about their hopes and fears; hopes and fears that they couldn't directly say to one another or to anyone else. Phoebe felt something turn inside her, her heart? It was as if she were caught in a vise. There was no way to avoid deeply hurting one of those two precious children. But she was struck by the fact that she wasn't really able to make a conscious choice to do either. Fate had dealt its card and she must play it.

Suddenly she became aware of a presence behind her. She knew who it was before she turned, and allowed herself to be held in the pair of strong, waiting arms. For the Professor, who had also heard every word, it was almost as if he were holding Prudence after a disappointment. Aware of the softly falling tears, he stroked hair. Once again, the gesture was fatherly. He would do this if it were Prudence who had awakened after a visit from the Wiblet. Thus he convinced himself, and the highly intuitive woman in his arms that this was purely a gesture of human comfort, born from the sympathy of another soul who has known great grief and even greater turmoil. And so he focused his mind.

But from the edge of stairs, Emmeline saw the pair and recognized the Professor's actions for what they were. All of her warning bells sounded as she realized that if she didn't act soon, things would be very rough indeed. Like one of Hal's chemistry explosions, where all the right ingredients were mixed at the wrong time and in the wrong proportions, things were beginning to bubble and smoke. However she also knew that interfering with the workings of fate that were clearly operating in the background also carried its own dangers. All involved must make their own choices using their own free will and the information they had available.

But, did fate decree that they be blind? How often did blindness, the failure to recognize all possibilities, lead to disaster. Over confidence in self-knowledge was often at the root of a tragic flaw. Yet she did not doubt the evidence lay before her own eyes and knew if action wasn't taken even worse things could happen. But action should she take? That was impossible to know. Saying a silent prayer, Emmeline quietly thought, "Help me help them find their way. Help me put this right."

It didn't take long for Emmeline to act. Like her cousin, when she made up her mind to do something, she did it. Waiting at the bottom of the stairs, she intercepted the Professor on his way to the study. In a straight forward manner, she requested an interview. Without preface she began, "Professor it is time for everyone to move on with their lives. Phoebe and Trelawney need to return home and your need to find a new housekeeper."

The Professor's confusion was evident. It was clear that he was ignoring the situation to the same extent as his children. Emmeline wondered for a moment if he thought that things could go on as they were indefinitely. More likely, she thought grimly, he wasn't thinking at all. Most likely, he was in denial that things must change, not to mention the degree to which his own feelings were coming into play.

"But isn't there still a lot to be arranged?" he began. "After all, one just doesn't pick up and move halfway around the world at the drop of a hat."

"You clearly don't know much about the Figalillys," said Emmeline with a wry smile. "'At the drop of a hat' is generally how they do move around the world."

"Oh, well, then I am sure that Nanny wouldn't leave until she knew that everything was taken care of here. A new housekeeper in place and all that," began the Professor.

Ready for that argument, Emmeline replied, "I know that Phoebe would trust me to stay and take care of things until a permanent arrangement is made."

Clearly discomfited, the Professor sat down. Deep down he knew that Nanny's departure was really only a matter of purchasing a plane ticket. He also supposed that he was lucky that up until this point she had remained with them. Like Prudence, he knew that wherever Nanny went or whatever scrape she got into, things had always worked out for the best, in the long run. Usually it was a best that no one could have predicted at the outset.

In this case however it occurred to him that there might be two different definitions of "best" in play. Sighing, he thought for the millionth time since Nanny had arrived how the simplicity of the world of mathematical logic was so much easier to deal with. Paradoxically, it was Nanny's special blend of magic and mayhem that had actually brought his family back to order.

Emmeline recognizing that his male, scientific logic was impeding his more humanistic inclinations, softened. Try as he might to explain things in a rational manner, he had yet to realize that it was time to put aside reason and feel. He needed to see that unless he could understand the pain that Phoebe was experiencing as something that he had the power to mitigate, by accepting circumstances as they were, he would only make things worse for her and all the children in the long run.

He was only now realizing that the two plus two he had added up really came out to six, but he couldn't see his way out with any known logarithm. His conundrum lay in his two-dimensional worldview. Well, she would give him some help. She sat before him and took his hands in hers. Looking into his eyes she gave him the benefit of wisdom acquired through the vagaries of her own existence.

"Professor, you are seeing this only in the context of its logistical framework. If you would use your heart as you as aptly as you do your mind you would realize that there is a dimension to this problem that exceeds the boundary of timelines, employment, and reconfiguring your household. Ultimately, in its most essential form, this is a matter of the HEART, not the brain.

"Instead of looking for a good solution, look for good IN the solution, whatever that might be. If you've been around Phoebe and paid attention to her for any length of time, then you know that often these things are not initially revealed. The nature of feelings and moral precepts is elusive, particularly goodness which is probably the most difficult of all. In the final analysis, so to speak, goodness is always the best course, but most often not the easiest. Throughout the ages, philosophers and theological scholars have been searching for empirical evidence of goodness. But it is the common folk who know best. One does not accept that goodness exists based on proof, but rather based on faith. And faith requires no empirical evidence.

"In the end there are three things that last: faith, hope and love," concluded Emmeline.

"And the greatest of these is love," finished the Professor thoughtfully. He realized that the young woman before him had a scholarly mind. By helping him to set the situation in a philosophical context, she was giving him a framework in which he could think more clearly.

"Yes, the greatest of these is love." Emmeline dropped his hands and stood up to walk out. Standing at the door she looked back at the still figure. She did not know if the seed that she had planted had taken root. One never knew when one planted a seed exactly what, if anything, would spring forth, she reflected. The seed must grow on its own, until it bursts forth from the earth so that it could be tended and nurtured. She had done what she could; she could do no more. Beyond this, he must find the answers on his own.

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At dinner that night, the mood was tense. Even the children seemed aware of the undercurrents of conflicted feelings drifting aimlessly below the polite conversation. Trelawney, although vaguely aware that it had something to do with her, decided to fill in the gap in the conversation. More relaxed than she had been since her arrival, perhaps sensing that matters were headed towards resolution she became gregarious. Having connected with Hal and Prudence, she had reached a new level of comfort in the Everett home.

She spoke of her own home, the village, the family and the neighbors who were all there. It was clear that the people lived close to the earth, mostly as farmers and those who served the needs of the farmers: shopkeepers, school teachers, etc. Their lives were simple. They needed few motorcars since everything was within walking distance and there was not a lot of contact with the larger world beyond. Hal would have been more curious from an anthropological perspective, if he didn't know where events were leading. Prudence listened with interest, as if it was a story in a book. She remained blithely unaware of the impending crisis. Butch on the other hand was restless, shifting back and forth in his chair as he stared at his plate and picked at his food.

As Trelawney continued her monologue, periodically questioning her sister about whether she recalled this person or that, or did she know this thing or that, the three adults exchanged glances. Blissfully unaware of the effect that she was having on the boys, Trelawney began to rhapsodize on a coming spring festival. Would they be home in time? She wanted to know. The effect of her words was instantly electric. Unknowingly, she had asked the forbidden question. When were the Figalilly sisters leaving?

In was at this point that Butch finally exploded. He had not had a one to one talk with her as his siblings had and his tolerance was at an end. He did not see the fragility of psyche that underlay the little girl's chatter. He only heard the words. He only knew his own situation. He was a typical eight-year-old who couldn't see things from anyone's perspective other than his own. From his perspective, Trelawney was gloating because without even trying she had won the battle (as he saw it) for Nanny's affections. Her gain was his loss and he was going to tell her what he thought about it.

"Oh will you just shut up! We don't care about your dumb old village and all the stupid people who live there. I don't see why you had to come here anyway, all you are doing is messing up our family. Why didn't you stay where you were and leave us alone?"

A shocked silence fell over the table, broken only by the Professor's stern, "Bentley Everett get up to your room right now."

Butch looked around and shrugged, "I'm just saying what you all are thinking."

"BUTCH!" his father thundered.

But Butch didn't back down easily. Showing no remorse he stood up, neatly folded his napkin beside his plate, and pushed in his chair. As everyone watched he calmly and casually walked out of the kitchen. The silence now drifted into a state of deep discomfort for all present. Unanswered questions hung in the air and no one wanted to talk.

Prudence was confused by Butch's outburst. She had convinced herself from the first that Nanny would never leave them. Daddy would fix it. After all, that would certainly NOT be everything working out for the best, at least as far as she as concerned. Having missed the allusions to the coming departure she only knew that he had yelled at her new friend. Too many events and conversations had gone over her head in the past few days.

In any case, Prudence had a very special relationship with Nanny. Since she had no memory of her own mother, the deepest connection that she had ever felt with an adult woman was with Nanny. It was Nanny cared for her when she was sick, helped her overcome her night terrors, and comforted her when she was sad. All of the love that she normally would have shared with her own mother was now heavily invested in Nanny.

It had never occurred to her that Trelawney was a rival for Nanny's affections or that she might have a prior claim. She could only imagine what she had understood and that was that Trelawney was another little girl like herself who loved Nanny. Even now she failed to see the vast difference between their relationships with Nanny.

"Why is Butch so mad?" she asked, directly addressing the issue. "Why doesn't he want to hear about Trelawney's village? It all sounds so nice."

As the adults looked helplessly at one another and Trelawney was clearly puzzled and hurt, Hal took control. "Butch is upset because Nanny and Trelawney will be going home soon, together. Nanny can't be our Nanny anymore because she has to take care of her sister."

He immediately regretted his choice of words. Prudence widened her eyes and turned to Nanny, "You DO. You HAVE to take care of Trelawney? But don't you WANT to stay with us?"

Nanny closed her eyes, her lips moving silently perhaps beseeching an unseen force. There was no good way to put this. Both Trelawney and Prudence were looking avidly at her for her answer.

"It isn't a matter of want or have to," she tried. "It's a matter of how things are."

Still Prudence persisted, "But what do you WANT to do?"

Nanny did not answer immediately. Too many emotions were engulfing her. In an ideal world, everything would resolve itself. In fairy tales, despite the challenges, everyone lived happily ever after. Nanny's prolonged silence did not escape her sister. The answer seemed very plain to Trelawney and she did not understand Phoebe's reticence.

Trelawney spoke up, " Prudence you must understand that Phoebe is my sister, my only sister and she will come and live with me so that we can be a family. You already have a family. Phoebe is my family."

"No!" declared the little girl emphatically, "Nanny is our family and I never want her to leave us. Emmeline can be your family. She can take you home and Nanny can stay home with us."

This was getting impossible. How could anyone explain to Prudence that the love between Phoebe and Trelawney tied the two more firmly together now than any other love either might have for any other. There had never been a question in Phoebe's mind of whether or not she would leave the Everetts. It was just a matter of how and when. Of course the tragedy of the situation was that it could not be easily explained to a child. Prudence and Trelawney each saw only her own perspective and the inherent correctness of it. Looking at the two faces, Nanny was torn. How could she navigate the gulf between both sides in a way that would not leave one girl deeply hurt.

Yet Prudence's failure to comprehend the situation as it was had now muddled it badly. It was now Trelawney's turn to misread the events of the past few minutes. Taking her sister's silence as a tacit acknowledgment of Prudence's claim that Phoebe would have stayed with the Everetts, if given a choice, she suddenly felt like a burden on her sister. For the first time in her life she became aware that her sister's life was apart from her own. Seeing that Phoebe's relationship with the Everetts, especially Prudence, went beyond the boundaries of a normal employer-employee relationship she felt what little security she had begun to feel slipping away.

Living within her rather circumscribed existence, she had never seen Phoebe outside of the family home. In fact, she had never given much thought to where she was or what she did when she wasn't with them. When Phoebe came home to visit she lavished attention on her younger sister. This was the only Phoebe she knew, not this one sitting here before her to whom another family and other children seemed to belong. Outside of her own sheltered world, Trelawney suddenly felt herself being swallowed up by the unfamiliar circumstances, events, and emotions. She felt desperately insecure. The one thing that she had thought that she could count on had been roughly pulled away.

Unable to bear the tension anymore, Hal got up and told Prudence to come with him. The child threw herself into Nanny's arms and instinctively, Nanny comforted her. Hal saw the look of despair on Trelawney's face and gently pulled his sister away. Reluctantly, Prudence allowed herself to be led out of the kitchen and upstairs. Trelawney herself then got up and stood between her sister and her cousin. Turning her back to Nanny she hugged her cousin tightly. Emmeline looked past the golden head and into Phoebe's eyes. Phoebe reached out, but when she touched the child's back she felt it cringe and then tighten under her hand.

The Professor saw the anguished look on Nanny's face and finally made a full realization of her feelings for this child. This was a pure and simple love, uncomplicated by tenuous and unsure feelings. He knew this kind of love. It was powerful. The two together were bound by that indefinable, mysterious connection that sharing a biological bond gives. He knew that it would never be broken.

He saw in her pain a mirror of that which he had felt at the loss of his wife and knowledge that he was suddenly alone with his children. The protective love of a parent for a child was instinctual. He had no right to try and come between it, even with his own self-interest for the future of his own children. What was it he heard? If you love someone set them free . . .

Easier said than done. The poignancy of the situation was clear. This was not a romantic love to let go of or subordinate to the needs of the other. This was the love of a family, a family who had only just realized the power of their own connections with one another. Could the children, could HE sustain these bonds without her, the quiet, integral center. What would they do without the filter of Nanny's love to get them through the day-to-day issues and conflicts that arose. How long could they believe in the "rightness of things," and the ability of everything to work out for the best for all concerned when given enough time?

Professor Everett had often doubted of his own ability to parent ever since his wife had died. Nanny had given him a way to feel closer to his children and more useful in their upbringing. Just the fact that he was no longer locked in a battle of wills over the constant parade of housekeepers had done much to improve their relationship.

He could feel free to leave the family issues behind and attend to matters at the university knowing that the children were happy and well cared-for. He could come home at night and really enjoy them. But when all was said and done, Nanny was a paid staff member. She was entitled to a personal life and to place the needs of her own family first. For all she had done for him, he at the very least owed her that. Leaving the cousins behind he retreated to his study. Once again it became a sanctuary against chaos of his home.

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Later he was not surprised to hear a rap at the door and see Emmeline enter. It was now obvious that she had put herself in the role of interlocutor, since Nanny and the Professor seemed unable to address these issues face to face. It was also obvious that without her mediation, the situation would never progress towards any sort of conclusion. In a business-like manner she informed him that Nanny planned to take Trelawney and leave, the sooner the better. She needed to protect the child from any further stress and anxiety and the Everett children needed to accept reality.

Essentially, with such highly charged emotions in play, the children needed to be protected from each other. Trelawney was too raw and the three Everetts too confused. Emmeline would stay until he was settled with a new housekeeper. The Professor received the news with an air of resignation. There was nothing more to say; Emmeline was right. The sooner the children accepted reality the better. Despite her efficient manner, Emmeline's eyes were kind. At least, he thought, he would not have to cope with the worst of the transition alone.

Part 3: ". . . And the greatest of these is love"

While Nanny and Emmeline cleaned up the kitchen, Trelawney wandered out into the backyard. There she saw Waldo looking at her, cocking his head and softly whimpering. Scratching behind his ears, she said, "I know boy and I'm glad that you understand, but you see I can't make her leave now. I really and truly thought that she wanted to be with me, but now I see that she HAS to me with me. I know that she really wants to stay here and that being with me would just make her unhappy. I don't want her to be unhappy. I guess that she has a new family now."

Sighing she leaned against the soft, furry dog and buried her face in his long coat. She found comfort in his warm body and his steady panting. In her mind echoed the same words that had run through the Professor's. Her love for sister ran deep and she would let her go if it would make her happy. Suddenly Waldo looked up and gave a quick bark of greeting. Trelawney looked up into Phoebe's eyes.

'Thank you Waldo for being such a good friend, but Trelawney needs to come inside to pack her bags," said Phoebe firmly.

Trelawney felt a wave of hurt and stubbornness well up. She was to pack HER bags! What about Phoebe's bags? Perhaps Phoebe didn't need to pack, it would be she who would be sent away. Waldo whimpered.

Shaking her head slowly Phoebe answered, "Trelawney dear WE are leaving in the morning. I'm going to pack too. We will take the first flight we can get to London and if we have to wait then we will find some other place else to stay."

But it was too late to convince the child of her devotion. She had seen and heard too much tonight. She didn't want to be a burden.

"You are NOT a burden . . ." Phoebe didn't get to finish her sentence.

"I think that it would be better if Emmeline took me home. If she can't stay with me, I can always go to boarding school," declared Trelawney with a bravado she really didn't feel.

"No! That is not what Mum and Papa wanted. I will not allow you to be shipped off to boarding school," exclaimed Phoebe.

"I wasn't thinking about what Mum and Papa wanted, I was thinking about what YOU want. You want to stay here." There she said it. Trelawney did not wait for her sister's reaction. She fled back into the house, nearly running down Emmeline on the way.

Emmeline looked at Phoebe, who shook her head sadly, and then pursued Trelawney. Someone needed to take the child in hand. As usual, her impulsive nature had won out and she had jumped to conclusions. Emmeline knew that a little sternness was needed before the child unwittingly did any more damage than she had already done. Emmeline knew the depth of the grief that each sister felt and knew that more than anything they needed to be together.

For what felt like a very long time, Phoebe sat by herself in the dark backyard looking at the stars. It was something that she had often done before. Looking at the stars gave her a deeper sense of the connection she felt with the eternal cosmos. Tonight however she felt no tranquility, no peace in her soul. Idly she wondered if she would ever feel peace again. The cool breeze carried on it the scent of the night stock in the garden. Lovely, but tonight it held no charm. The magic seemed to have dissipated, with the rejection of the child whom she had always and always would love best.

The knife in her heart twisted more sharply as she realized that the situation was of own making. If only she had quickly and firmly asserted her love and devotion to her sister. If only she hadn't equivocated. How could she have put Prudence's feelings ahead of or even on par with Trelawney's? Caught up in her reverie she failed to either sense the Professor's coming or his presence. Lost in thought, she started at his voice.

"Do you mind if I sit with you? Sometimes it helps to have a friend to lean on." The Professor knew about the scene with Trelawney. Emmeline was presently doing her best to persuade the girl that she was mistaken and Nanny really didn't want to stay with the Everetts.

Without waiting for a reply he sat beside her on the bench, putting his arm across the back. He wasn't really hugging her. In fact he wasn't even touching her. Still, unconsciously she slightly shifted away.

"You know it's really not a matter of wanting or not wanting," she reckoned, not wanting to hurt HIS feelings by admitting the truth. "It's a matter of degrees. Trelawney doesn't realize that if I could set the clock back we would not have lost our parents, not so that I could stay here, but so that they would still be here. It's not just about her; it's about them. I love them and miss them. It will be very hard to return to an empty house and realize that I will never again see Mum in her kitchen or Papa in his favorite chair with the newspaper. The four of us will never sit down to dinner again. Going home means facing that, and perhaps that explains my reluctance. I know that I'm not saying this well, but how do I go back there, even with Trelawney?"

The Professor knew that this line of reasoning was only partly true. He had seen her face at the dinner table as clearly as Trelawney. However it seemed to make her feel better to say it. He did however know the feeling of loss that one experiences when a loved one is suddenly absent from the home. And he knew that feeling that life was forever altered, changed in a fundamental way that disturbs the mind and soul. Out the corner of his eye he saw her gazing at the stars. In their soft light he saw the tears on her pale cheeks.

Acting on an unknown impulse he reached over and the gently brushed one away with his right thumb. She turned her head and gazed into his eyes, blue into blue, with deep gratitude. Cradling her head in his hand, he nestled it into his shoulder, held her close, almost rocking her like a child, and rested his cheek on the lovely golden mass of curls. The bow that held a part of her hair back from her face tickled his nose. He wanted to surround and protect her with . . .

The mood was abruptly broken by a gasp and they quickly turned to see Emmeline and Trelawney on the back stoop. Nanny pulled away, stood up, and held out her hand helplessly, but the child fled. There was no hint of ambivalence in Emmeline's look. Once again she had caught him with her cousin in a compromising position. It was clear to her that Professor Harold Everett was making his own appeal to Phoebe in her weakness in a MOST inappropriate way. She was furious.

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Trelawney rushed through the kitchen and to the foot of the stairs. A bit breathless from running and the shock of the scene she had just witnessed, she paused uncertain of what to do next. No matter what Emmeline said, Phoebe did not want to leave here. Even more obvious was that she wanted to be with the Professor. She might not know much about relations between men and women, but she had certainly heard lots of stories of falling and love and living happily ever after. AND she knew what she had seen.

She wasn't standing there long before she heard voices upstairs. Butch and Hal were berating Prudence for starting the chaos that ended dinner. Needing a place to direct her own anger, she climbed up the stairs as Hal was saying, "I don't see why you just couldn't let up. Didn't you see how upset you were making Nanny?"

"I didn't start it," repeated Prudence. "Butch did. He yelled at Trelawney and said mean things, not ME."

"But you finished it," said Hal.

"And how," chimed in Butch, "You really finished it alright."

"The things that you told Nanny about not wanting to take care of her sister probably hurt Trelawney a lot more than Butch's idiocy. Now Nanny will go away and she'll probably never want to see us again," continued Hal.

"Yeah, probably never again," repeated Butch.

"Your problem is that you just don't get it, you're such a baby that you never do. Everyone's feelings are important, not just yours." Hal began to lecture.

"You are such a baby." Butch was starting to enjoy this. Usually he was on the business end of Hal's lectures.

Trelawney rushed in just as Prudence was starting to cry and put a protective arm around her.

"I can speak for myself thank you very much and for how I feel," she asserted. Her vehemence made the boys take a step back.

"No Hal and Butch Everett, you two don't get it!" she said severely. "You lot are so used to getting your own way all the time that you don't know when you've lost. It doesn't matter what anyone said down there, it doesn't change anything. And badgering Prudence doesn't help."

"Oh come on," said Hal. "You can't say that all of her questions didn't make you mad. And do you think that Nanny felt?"

"My sister can speak for herself. As for me, mad, no." replied Trelawney. "Sad, yes. It's not easy to face things such as they are. Since Prudence doesn't know any better, she just asks more honest questions than anyone else."

"Well these honest questions just made everything a lot worse," answered Hal, determined not to back down in front of his younger siblings. He wasn't used to losing arguments. Being the eldest, he was used to winning.

However, he was doing battle with an only child who had never deferred to an older sibling in an argument in her life. Her head spun with fury, "Things couldn't have gotten any worse, only now everything is at least out in the open! Everyone still is angry, everyone is still upset, and no one even knows what to do. If you're such a brilliant scientist then why don't you come up with a solution?"

Prudence and even Butch looked on with admiration. Trelawney could clearly give as good as she got and then some. Hal rolled his eyes, "Girls!" he muttered under his breath.

Riled again Trelawney responded, "Boys! What do they know anyway?"

"A lot more than dumb old girls," answered Butch with a huff.

But Prudence had begun to smile, looking up at Trelawney she said shyly, "Thank you. I never have anyone on my side."

"Well we girls have to stick together then, don't we?" Trelawney faintly smiled back. She was still mad at Hal and Butch.

Butch was confused. "Why are you sticking up for Prudence anyway? What do you care if we pick on her?"

"Now, Butch," began Trelawney. "With everything all topsy-turvy you should be sticking together, not fighting with each other. I've never had any brothers, but my sister and I have always stuck together. We don't always agree, but we never forget that we love each other."

The three Everetts looked at her intently and she sheepishly amended, "Well, almost never."

"You see Hal and Butch," cried Prudence. "This is why I always wanted a sister!"

"So you would have someone to fight with you against us?" suggested Butch.

Prudence stuck out her tongue and Trelawney gently cuffed her ear, "You know that's not very lady-like and this IS something that my sister has said to me on a few occasions."

Hal had been listening and watching the younger children. His brain had kicked into overdrive with an idea. It was a brilliant idea, maybe the best idea he ever had.

"Hey you guys," he said conspiratorially. "Come over here."

Calling them into a huddle he began to talk rapidly. After a few seconds the others were nodding, Prudence beaming from ear to ear.

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The scene in the living room could not have been more different. Three adults, not looking directly at each, were trying discuss something that none of them really wanted to talk about. Emmeline refused to accept Phoebe's explanation of a moment of platonic comfort misunderstood. Where this was concerned, she had clearly lost her grip on reality.

Meanwhile, the Professor was doing his best to think of a way to escape. Whatever had happened outside, from his perspective anyway, it had not been entirely innocent. He was not entirely sure of what would have happened if Emmeline and Trelawney had not interrupted when they did. Suddenly they all looked up.

Hearing the sound of feet on the stairs, they watched as the four children filed in and stood before them. No one could help but notice that Trelawney had her arm around Prudence. Because he was the eldest, it had been decided that Hal would be the spokesman. He looked at the other three and opened his mouth but nothing came out.

The Professor broke the silence, "Do you have something to say Hal?

Finding his voice Hal said, "Yeah, well, we've been talking and well, yeah, we uh kind of had an idea."

He looked back for encouragement and Trelawney gave him a nod.

"Well, we all sort of discussed it and we decided that since you guys, even though you're the adults and all, didn't know what to do, that we had to think of something," he looked back again, as his courage failed him once more.

"Well sometimes it takes more than one person to find a solution to a complex problem," said Nanny slowly. "What were you, all of you, thinking?"

"Well you see, it seems like the problem is that we want Nanny to stay with us and Trelawney wants Nanny to go with her. We talked it over and we thought that maybe Trelawney could come and live here," he took a deep breath and looked anxiously at the three stunned adults.

"Trelawney can sleep in my room and I can have a sister!" put in Prudence enthusiastically, before anyone else had a chance to respond. "And she can go to school with us and play with us and be a family with us."

Butch finally found his voice, "Yeah well, Prudence is right. If Nanny is our family and if she is Trelawney's family, then that kind of makes Trelawney our family too. You always said that family is the most important thing."

"And LOVE," added Prudence, "And I already love Trelawney because she had a fight with Hal and Butch because they were being mean to me and she WON!"

Nanny looked at Trelawney and raised an eyebrow. Looking a bit guilty the girl said, "Well you see it wasn't a physical sort of a fight, it was more of a verbal quarrel. I mean nobody got hurt or anything." But under her breathe, she said, "Except for Hal's pride."

"This is where I butt out," answered Emmeline. "This is a decision for you all to make. After all, you are going to have to live with it."

"Coward!" muttered the Professor. Nice of her to decide to step out when things got really complicated.

"I know that you children are trying to be helpful," answered Nanny, "I am not sure that you realize all of the issues that could arise."

"Like what?" Butch asked and all faces turned towards Nanny.

"Well for one thing, Trelawney you have already started in another school."

"But kids switch schools all the time," said Hal. "In fact a new boy just moved here from Texas and he's in my class now in school."

"Yes, well, there are also immigration issues. Trelawney can't just enter the country and stay like that. She needs a visa and a reason to stay longer than she would as a tourist."

"But Dad," said Hal, "Don't students come from other countries to the university to study? Why couldn't Trelawney be a student? She'd be going to school here."

"Well yes Hal, there are student visas," replied the Professor.

"I'm sure that there could be other issues." Nanny faltered as she searched her mind for another obstacle.

"Yes, well, what Miss Figalilly?" answered the Professor, a small seed of hope had started to root in his mind. He always tended to use her surname when challenging her. "If you think there will be problems then you must have an idea of what they are."

"Perhaps we aren't taking enough time to think things through. We don't want to make important decisions too hastily," began Nanny.

"You mean to think of problems," said Hal looking downcast.

"No that's not what I mean," replied Nanny.

"I think what she means," said the Professor, "is that if this happens it is going mean to mean a big change in all our lives. While right now you are all only looking at the good things that can change, there may be some bad as well. However, if we are ALL in agreement, you four children, Nanny and me, then we could give it a try."

"Okay, so let's take a vote," said Hal jumping on it. "All in favor of Trelawney coming to live with us raise your hand."

Four hands immediately popped up, followed by the Professor. Emmeline looked at Phoebe and raised her hand.

"Emmeline, you don't get a vote," chided Trelawney. "You copped out."

Her cousin shrugged as if she didn't really care much one way or the other, but at the same time did not lower her hand. Although she had her doubts, she had the strongest feeling that Hal's idea had been motivated by something other than selfishness. There were larger forces at work. She would not interfere with the workings of fate, even if they were against her better judgment.

"Well," said Nanny, "I guess I am out-voted."

"Oh, no!" said the Professor, "It's unanimous or it won't happen."

Six pairs of eyes looked at Nanny. Prudence was whispering, "Please, please, please." Trelawney gave her a little smile and the Everett men looked expectantly. Emmeline gave a little nod of the head. Relenting Nanny raised her hand.

Joy erupted with everyone yelling and hugging at the same time. Over the din Nanny called out, "I just hope that we all won't be sorry."

"Oh don't worry Nanny," burst out Prudence. "I can't be sorry! I'm going to have a sister!"

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The next morning Emmeline prepared for her departure but first wanted a private interview with the Professor. She looked him up and down sharply.

"I want you to realize that Phoebe is in a very fragile state now," she said crisply. "She has had a great loss, she has a grieving child to care for, and this household to run. Although she may seem invincible at times, she can have her low points just as anyone else. I have seen what is going on between you two, and I am not really sure of what I think of it. Don't say it is about the children, because it's about you too. And don't say that there is nothing going on, I see how you look at her.

"Before I leave, I want you to promise me that you will do nothing to take advantage of her," she finished.

"I would never do anything to hurt Nanny," replied the Professor.

"Intentionally." added Emmeline. "It's the unintentional that I am more worried about. Those moments of weakness that catch us unawares, like last night. And besides, that's not exactly what I asked you to promise."

The Professor was uncomfortable remembering. He knew that Emmeline was right.

"I promise to be more careful not to take advantage of Nanny or hurt her either intentionally or unintentionally," he declared sincerely, but not without mentally wincing. However Emmeline appeared satisfied and opened the door.

Trelawney was waiting for her in the hall. She gave her cousin a long hug and thanked her for everything. "I love you, Cousin Emmeline," she stated.

"Me too dear. Now take care of your sister," replied Emmeline.

Tugging at her, Trelawney led her off into the living room.

"Em, you know I do think that Phoebe likes him," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Who would that be?" inquired Emmeline unnecessarily.

"Why Professor Everett of course," stated the girl matter of factly. "Wouldn't it be . . ."

". . . completely inappropriate and totally impossible," finished Emmeline with a fierce intensity.

Trelawney was surprised by her forcefulness. She knew quite well there might well be obstacles . . . but . . . Such nonsense, she thought, her sister had a right to her own life. She doubted that her parents would have stood in the way if Phoebe had found true love in an unlikely place.

"Well, I'M not going to stop her, if that is what you're thinking," she answered stubbornly.

"I don't expect you to, being a child and all. However, I do believe that you should not even think of helping things along, if you understand my meaning," Emmeline insisted.

Trelawney shrugged. She had no intention of making any promises that she knew she couldn't keep. Despite her talent for walking into mischief, she was always truthful. Emmeline shook her head. She knew that she was wasting her breath. The child would do as she wished. She should probably worry more about Phoebe anyway. As usual, Trelawney knew what she was thinking.

"We will take care of each other, Phoebe and I," promised the girl. Emmeline could see by the serious expression in her eyes that she truly meant it.

On the front porch, Emmeline turned to all and bid them a fond farewell. She took Hal by the chin and looked into his eyes.

"You have a fine future young man. There are many people who go all through life without ever realizing that families are more than people related to each other. Love makes a family. May you never forget that," she said warmly.

"I won't, "said Hal, and added shyly, "Cousin Emmeline."

"Well then, my work is done, for now. Don't think that you've seen the last of me, I'll be back to check up on you," she looked meaningfully at the Professor one last time as she spoke.

"Goodbye Cousin Emmeline! Goodbye!" they all called as she walked out to the taxi with Nanny. Before she got in she turned and pulled her cousin into her arms. Patting her back she reminded Phoebe, "Remember that all things . . ."

"Work out for the best for everyone concerned given time," Nanny knew the words by heart.

Looking at her with compassion Emmeline advised, "Don't forget to take care of yourself. You are right to worry about . . . certain things. Try to keep your professional and personal relationships properly sorted out. Do you understand?"

"Yes dear, I know what you mean." As usual Nanny's face was wide open and honest.

No you don't, thought Emmeline with a mental sigh, but I suppose that you will have to find out the hard way.

Aloud she said, "Remember, if you ever need anything, just give a call."

"Right-o, now don't miss your plane."

As the cab drove away Nanny looked back at the family on the porch. They really were her family, all of them. Emmeline was right, she thought, love DOES make a family.

Epilogue

The Professor looked up from his work as Nanny brought him his evening coffee. It was going to be a long night. The upset of the last two weeks had not failed to have an impact on his grading and there was a lot of catching up to do.

"Don't worry, Professor, now that things are settling down you should be able to get back into your old routine," said Nanny. Typical, he could never think anything that she didn't know about.

Suddenly noise erupted from upstairs. Four voices, arguing at the top of their lungs, came from the bathroom. Rushing up the stairs Nanny and the Professor were confronted by a scene of disagreement very clearly marked as a battle of the sexes. All were talking at once, none were listening and it took a piercing whistle by Nanny to quiet them down.

"Guy Dad," complained Hal, "These girls are taking forever in the bathroom."

"Forever," affirmed Butch.

"Well, girls take longer than boys," responded Trelawney.

"Then we should go first," replied Hal logically.

"No, ladies first," cried Prudence.

There was another up swell of quarrelling that Nanny began to try to calm down. The Professor looked on helplessly as Prudence turned around beaming.

"This is why I always wanted a sister, Daddy! Now we're even! Isn't it great?"

As if in answer to her question, Waldo started to bark and Butch's voice was heard above the others saying, "See Waldo's a guy and he's on our side."

"That's ridiculous," answered Trelawney, "Waldo is a gentleman and he wants you to behave like one too."

Waldo, thoroughly enjoying his part in the mayhem, barked again and the Professor threw up his hands. "Back to my routine, nine o'clock and it's time for the kids to have a battle over the bathroom."

"Oh don't worry Professor," said Nanny cheerfully. "I'll take care of this. You just go back to your work. Once they get used to each other everything will be normal."

The Professor recalled his own words about big changes. He asked aloud, "And just what kind of normal would that be?"

But nobody paid him any attention. The children were cheerfully insulting each other while Nanny tried to negotiate a peace treaty. Waldo continued to joyously bark. Turning his back on the madness and chaos, the Professor lightly made his way down the steps. His own bark was really much worse than his bite. What had he always said? That he liked the sounds of a healthy, happy family. And it WAS a happy family. It was HIS family. With the thought of the newly minted member in his mind Emmeline's parting words rang true in his heart.

"Love makes a family."

The End

The theme, though serious, has been drawn from my own life experiences of helping to raise younger siblings after my mother passed away and then raising my own family of steps, halves, and adopted daughters. We gave up on distinctions years ago. The message that "Love make a family" has been our guiding principal through thick and thin and is a logical extension of the "Nanny" message of love and family. I hope that you enjoyed this story and I welcome feedback.

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