FINALLY!
Author's ramblings: Hi Kids! Sorry for making all y'all wait. It's the holiday season, plus I have to work (A LOT) even though I'm on holiday from school. Anyway, here's Chapter 3 (finally!) ~~AJ
Oh, and we forgot to post this at the beginning of the story:
DISCLAIMER: we do not own "Touched By An Angel", its characters, plot lines, or anything else related. We're just playing with the Monica, Andrew, and Tess dolls, and will put them back when we're done.
Without further adieu:
*****
Chapter 3 (by AJ)
Hand-in-hand, Monica and Andrew descended the stairs to the living room where they found Estelle sitting rather stiffly on the edge of an oversized, emerald green sofa-chair. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be in pain. Monica entangled her hand from Andrew's and rushed over to Estelle, Andrew close behind.
"Estelle? Are you all right?" Monica whispered concernedly, kneeling beside Estelle's chair and reaching for the woman's hand.
Estelle opened her eyes and smiled ruefully. "Yes, dear, I'll be all right in a second. The ol' MS monster is attacking again."
"MS?" Monica echoed.
"Multiple sclerosis," Andrew reminded her softly. "Can we get you anything, Estelle?"
"No, no. I'm having a muscle spasm, but it will pass shortly." Estelle shifted in her chair, pressing her free hand to her lower back.
"Maybe a massage might help?" Andrew offered. "May I?" He stepped close to Estelle, knelt beside her chair, and kneaded the muscles in her back.
Estelle sighed. "That feels wonderful, Andrew, thank you. Walter used to do this for me when he was alive." She closed her eyes again, this time to hide tears.
"Walter. Your husband?" Monica probed gently, still holding Estelle's hand.
"Yes. My husband. My late husband," Estelle replied in a barely-audible voice. She suddenly had the urge to talk about Walter. These young people made her feel so comfortable. "Did Tess tell you about him? He had the most gentle heart and took such wonderful care of me."
"Do you know Tess?" Monica asked, surprised. At the same time, Andrew replied, "Tess didn't tell us much about Walter. Maybe she wanted you to."
Estelle opened her eyes again, completely taken aback. "Yes, of course I know Tess. She was a volunteer at the hospital where Walter died, she helped me with the funeral preparations, and she's the one who told me about the two of you. She set this arrangement up; I had been looking for only a week for a couple to live with me when she stopped by to say she knew the perfect people: you. Didn't she tell you?" Estelle was confused.
"Tess just didn't give us all of the details," Andrew soothed, "We know her so well, we didn't even think to ask questions."
Estelle nodded. "I can understand that. Tess has a very.commanding personality."
"That's a very accurate description," Andrew laughed. His warm hands smoothed the knots out of Estelle's back, which made the attack easier for her nerves to withstand.
"I'm feeling better now, Andrew. Thank you very much," Estelle favored Andrew with a smile. He loosened one more knot, and then stepped back. Estelle relaxed into her chair, her attack over.
Monica had been quiet during this exchange. On the wall across from where Monica knelt by Estelle were a plethora of pictures. During the lull in the conversation, Monica decided to broach the subject of Marcie and David. She wanted to know about the children, and certainly more about the man Estelle had described as having "the most gentle heart". Rising and approaching a large picture that enclosed nine people, one of whom was obviously Estelle, Monica asked, "Is this your family?"
"Yes," Estelle replied. "That was taken a little over a year ago. Walter and I are seated in the middle. Our son.would you take the picture down, Monica? I can introduce my family easier if I can point out who's who."
Monica obliged, lifting the photograph off the nail it was hanging from and bringing it to Estelle. Estelle laid the picture in her lap as Monica and Andrew settled down on either side of the chair.
"We're in the middle, Walter and I," Estelle began, pointing with one long, knobby finger to the smiling couple seated front and center in the picture; Estelle was on the left and Walter sat on the right, holding his wife's hand. "This is my son David and his family: his wife MaryAnne and their son Alexander," continued Estelle, her voice taking on a heavier inflection. MaryAnne stood right behind Walter, and David filled the place to her left. Alexander was situated at his grandfather's side. David had his mother's bright eyes and finely-chiseled features, and his father's full-faced grin. Alexander was a mirror image of David, only on a smaller scale. "And here is my daughter Marcie, her husband Evan, and their daughters Abigail - Abby - and Sara," Estelle finished, a small sigh escaping from between her lips. Marcie stood behind her mother; Evan to her right with Sara balanced on his hip. Abby had her place beside Estelle. "David and Marcie are twins. Can you tell?" she added, trying to lighten her own mood. Her eyes were filling with tears, and she fought them back with all of her might.
While fraternal twins - and David and Marcie had to be fraternal twins - are only as closely genetically related as "regular" siblings, Marcie and David shared very strong physical similarities. Like David, Marcie boasted the bright eyes and fine features of their mother, and the wide grin of their father. Both were also tall and had chestnut-brown hair, though Marcie highlighted hers with auburn streaks. The only real physical difference between the twins was their body types. A thin frame held Marcie up; David had a wrestler's body. Their respective spouses were attractive people, and the children were adorable. Alexander appeared to be about eight. He had dark hair and eyes and a solid little frame. He looked like he might be a natural soccer or football player. His eyes held a mischievous twinkle. Abby had auburn hair and green eyes; the same eyes as her mother and grandmother. She looked older than her five years because of her expressive facial characteristics. Sara was blonde-and-blue- eyed and a charmingly chubby toddler of barely two.
"You have a lovely family," Monica intoned, her Irish brogue thick with the emotion in her throat. She put her had on Estelle's arm, trying to comfort her new friend. Andrew was concerned too; his eyes belayed it.
"Thank you, dear," Estelle tried to smile, but the grin didn't reach her eyes. "I wish I could see them more, especially now that Walter is gone." A tear slipped.
"Oh, Estelle," Monica hated to see people cry. It made her heart ache.
"You don't see them much?" Andrew was better at getting to the center of matters. "Might I be so bold as to ask why?" Andrew tried to be very gentle with his question.
"They used to visit all the time," Estelle replied, sniffling. She was not going to cry in front of her new tenants! "I got sick about twenty years ago. MS, you know. The monster took its sweet time to progress, which was fine with me; I did real well for a long time. The past five years have really taken their toll, though, especially after Walter's first heart attack. Don't get old if you can help it," Estelle tried to make light of the situation. "No child likes to watch his or her parents fail," she added softly. "Walt and I, when we were young, were vibrant, active; full of life. The kids were here all the time. We were so excited when we found out we'd have grandbabies! Then MS kicked in.Walt had his first heart attack. It's like we hit a wall." Estelle was staring down at the picture, but her eyes weren't focused. She was beyond the picture, her chair, the living room, Monica and Andrew. She was walking through the past. "I suppose the kids want to remember us in our good days. Before illness and old age." She paused, lost in her thoughts. "Don't see 'em much anymore. Marcie calls on Sunday, David on Wednesday night. Get to talk to the grandkids, receive their pictures in the mail. But I wish they were here." Suddenly, Estelle snapped back to the present, shaking the ghosts from her mind. "Anyway." She sighed heavily, smiling woefully at her companions. "I was about to begin dinner, I think." She made no move to get up, though, and instead looked down at the photograph in her lap again.
"We'd love to make supper, if you trust us with your kitchen," Andrew offered. Monica wiped at the tears that she didn't even know had fallen on her cheeks.
"It's your kitchen now, too," Estelle replied, turning her head to look into Andrew's face, her lips curling into a genuine smile. "And if you want to make dinner, I won't argue with you. I am feeling a little drained - the attacks do that to me."
"Sit here and relax," Monica chirped. "Andrew and I will take care of everything." Monica wanted to take care of everything, too, and not just dinner. She wanted to bring Marcie and David here, to ask them why they avoided their mother when she needed them most. She wanted to talk to Andrew, and wished for Tess' guidance. Most of all, she needed to pray.
"I think this arrangement will work out just fine," Estelle announced, breaking into Monica's thoughts. "I feel like you two have been sent to me from God Himself."
Andrew was now standing, and winked at Monica over Estelle's head. "The Lord works in mysterious ways."
Monica rose, too, feeling a warmth in her heart after that wink that she'd never felt before. "Is there anything special you'd like us to make, Estelle?"
"I have sliced chicken thawing in the refrigerator," Estelle replied. "I thought I'd make spaghetti and put the chicken in the sauce."
"We can handle that," Andrew said, smiling warmly at the older woman. "Won't be long." He stepped around Estelle's chair and took Monica's hand to lead her into the kitchen.
"Feel free to snoop about the kitchen for everything you need," Estelle called to them, reaching for the remote control. "Wheel of Fortune," the show she and Walter had watched every night, was about to begin. Just the presence of Monica and Andrew made Estelle feel in better spirits.
*****
Author's ramblings: Hi Kids! Sorry for making all y'all wait. It's the holiday season, plus I have to work (A LOT) even though I'm on holiday from school. Anyway, here's Chapter 3 (finally!) ~~AJ
Oh, and we forgot to post this at the beginning of the story:
DISCLAIMER: we do not own "Touched By An Angel", its characters, plot lines, or anything else related. We're just playing with the Monica, Andrew, and Tess dolls, and will put them back when we're done.
Without further adieu:
*****
Chapter 3 (by AJ)
Hand-in-hand, Monica and Andrew descended the stairs to the living room where they found Estelle sitting rather stiffly on the edge of an oversized, emerald green sofa-chair. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be in pain. Monica entangled her hand from Andrew's and rushed over to Estelle, Andrew close behind.
"Estelle? Are you all right?" Monica whispered concernedly, kneeling beside Estelle's chair and reaching for the woman's hand.
Estelle opened her eyes and smiled ruefully. "Yes, dear, I'll be all right in a second. The ol' MS monster is attacking again."
"MS?" Monica echoed.
"Multiple sclerosis," Andrew reminded her softly. "Can we get you anything, Estelle?"
"No, no. I'm having a muscle spasm, but it will pass shortly." Estelle shifted in her chair, pressing her free hand to her lower back.
"Maybe a massage might help?" Andrew offered. "May I?" He stepped close to Estelle, knelt beside her chair, and kneaded the muscles in her back.
Estelle sighed. "That feels wonderful, Andrew, thank you. Walter used to do this for me when he was alive." She closed her eyes again, this time to hide tears.
"Walter. Your husband?" Monica probed gently, still holding Estelle's hand.
"Yes. My husband. My late husband," Estelle replied in a barely-audible voice. She suddenly had the urge to talk about Walter. These young people made her feel so comfortable. "Did Tess tell you about him? He had the most gentle heart and took such wonderful care of me."
"Do you know Tess?" Monica asked, surprised. At the same time, Andrew replied, "Tess didn't tell us much about Walter. Maybe she wanted you to."
Estelle opened her eyes again, completely taken aback. "Yes, of course I know Tess. She was a volunteer at the hospital where Walter died, she helped me with the funeral preparations, and she's the one who told me about the two of you. She set this arrangement up; I had been looking for only a week for a couple to live with me when she stopped by to say she knew the perfect people: you. Didn't she tell you?" Estelle was confused.
"Tess just didn't give us all of the details," Andrew soothed, "We know her so well, we didn't even think to ask questions."
Estelle nodded. "I can understand that. Tess has a very.commanding personality."
"That's a very accurate description," Andrew laughed. His warm hands smoothed the knots out of Estelle's back, which made the attack easier for her nerves to withstand.
"I'm feeling better now, Andrew. Thank you very much," Estelle favored Andrew with a smile. He loosened one more knot, and then stepped back. Estelle relaxed into her chair, her attack over.
Monica had been quiet during this exchange. On the wall across from where Monica knelt by Estelle were a plethora of pictures. During the lull in the conversation, Monica decided to broach the subject of Marcie and David. She wanted to know about the children, and certainly more about the man Estelle had described as having "the most gentle heart". Rising and approaching a large picture that enclosed nine people, one of whom was obviously Estelle, Monica asked, "Is this your family?"
"Yes," Estelle replied. "That was taken a little over a year ago. Walter and I are seated in the middle. Our son.would you take the picture down, Monica? I can introduce my family easier if I can point out who's who."
Monica obliged, lifting the photograph off the nail it was hanging from and bringing it to Estelle. Estelle laid the picture in her lap as Monica and Andrew settled down on either side of the chair.
"We're in the middle, Walter and I," Estelle began, pointing with one long, knobby finger to the smiling couple seated front and center in the picture; Estelle was on the left and Walter sat on the right, holding his wife's hand. "This is my son David and his family: his wife MaryAnne and their son Alexander," continued Estelle, her voice taking on a heavier inflection. MaryAnne stood right behind Walter, and David filled the place to her left. Alexander was situated at his grandfather's side. David had his mother's bright eyes and finely-chiseled features, and his father's full-faced grin. Alexander was a mirror image of David, only on a smaller scale. "And here is my daughter Marcie, her husband Evan, and their daughters Abigail - Abby - and Sara," Estelle finished, a small sigh escaping from between her lips. Marcie stood behind her mother; Evan to her right with Sara balanced on his hip. Abby had her place beside Estelle. "David and Marcie are twins. Can you tell?" she added, trying to lighten her own mood. Her eyes were filling with tears, and she fought them back with all of her might.
While fraternal twins - and David and Marcie had to be fraternal twins - are only as closely genetically related as "regular" siblings, Marcie and David shared very strong physical similarities. Like David, Marcie boasted the bright eyes and fine features of their mother, and the wide grin of their father. Both were also tall and had chestnut-brown hair, though Marcie highlighted hers with auburn streaks. The only real physical difference between the twins was their body types. A thin frame held Marcie up; David had a wrestler's body. Their respective spouses were attractive people, and the children were adorable. Alexander appeared to be about eight. He had dark hair and eyes and a solid little frame. He looked like he might be a natural soccer or football player. His eyes held a mischievous twinkle. Abby had auburn hair and green eyes; the same eyes as her mother and grandmother. She looked older than her five years because of her expressive facial characteristics. Sara was blonde-and-blue- eyed and a charmingly chubby toddler of barely two.
"You have a lovely family," Monica intoned, her Irish brogue thick with the emotion in her throat. She put her had on Estelle's arm, trying to comfort her new friend. Andrew was concerned too; his eyes belayed it.
"Thank you, dear," Estelle tried to smile, but the grin didn't reach her eyes. "I wish I could see them more, especially now that Walter is gone." A tear slipped.
"Oh, Estelle," Monica hated to see people cry. It made her heart ache.
"You don't see them much?" Andrew was better at getting to the center of matters. "Might I be so bold as to ask why?" Andrew tried to be very gentle with his question.
"They used to visit all the time," Estelle replied, sniffling. She was not going to cry in front of her new tenants! "I got sick about twenty years ago. MS, you know. The monster took its sweet time to progress, which was fine with me; I did real well for a long time. The past five years have really taken their toll, though, especially after Walter's first heart attack. Don't get old if you can help it," Estelle tried to make light of the situation. "No child likes to watch his or her parents fail," she added softly. "Walt and I, when we were young, were vibrant, active; full of life. The kids were here all the time. We were so excited when we found out we'd have grandbabies! Then MS kicked in.Walt had his first heart attack. It's like we hit a wall." Estelle was staring down at the picture, but her eyes weren't focused. She was beyond the picture, her chair, the living room, Monica and Andrew. She was walking through the past. "I suppose the kids want to remember us in our good days. Before illness and old age." She paused, lost in her thoughts. "Don't see 'em much anymore. Marcie calls on Sunday, David on Wednesday night. Get to talk to the grandkids, receive their pictures in the mail. But I wish they were here." Suddenly, Estelle snapped back to the present, shaking the ghosts from her mind. "Anyway." She sighed heavily, smiling woefully at her companions. "I was about to begin dinner, I think." She made no move to get up, though, and instead looked down at the photograph in her lap again.
"We'd love to make supper, if you trust us with your kitchen," Andrew offered. Monica wiped at the tears that she didn't even know had fallen on her cheeks.
"It's your kitchen now, too," Estelle replied, turning her head to look into Andrew's face, her lips curling into a genuine smile. "And if you want to make dinner, I won't argue with you. I am feeling a little drained - the attacks do that to me."
"Sit here and relax," Monica chirped. "Andrew and I will take care of everything." Monica wanted to take care of everything, too, and not just dinner. She wanted to bring Marcie and David here, to ask them why they avoided their mother when she needed them most. She wanted to talk to Andrew, and wished for Tess' guidance. Most of all, she needed to pray.
"I think this arrangement will work out just fine," Estelle announced, breaking into Monica's thoughts. "I feel like you two have been sent to me from God Himself."
Andrew was now standing, and winked at Monica over Estelle's head. "The Lord works in mysterious ways."
Monica rose, too, feeling a warmth in her heart after that wink that she'd never felt before. "Is there anything special you'd like us to make, Estelle?"
"I have sliced chicken thawing in the refrigerator," Estelle replied. "I thought I'd make spaghetti and put the chicken in the sauce."
"We can handle that," Andrew said, smiling warmly at the older woman. "Won't be long." He stepped around Estelle's chair and took Monica's hand to lead her into the kitchen.
"Feel free to snoop about the kitchen for everything you need," Estelle called to them, reaching for the remote control. "Wheel of Fortune," the show she and Walter had watched every night, was about to begin. Just the presence of Monica and Andrew made Estelle feel in better spirits.
*****