Chapter 2

Ororo finished the lunch dishes quickly the next afternoon and hurried outside. Bypassing her garden altogether, she hurried off to the lake, and strolled around the margin, hoping to see the little girl coming. There was no Joey.

She waited almost an hour before venturing across the boundary toward the house on the hill. She wasn't sure if she would be welcome to knock on the front door, however, given the nanny's disposition from the day before. A sudden thought made her veer across the back lawn to the greenhouse.

As she got closer, she heard the faint sound of singing. And it was Joey's voice. She'd never win any contests, Ororo decided after listening for a couple of minutes, but she wasn't the worst singer in the world. Nothing like Remy in the shower. Her mouth curved in a tiny smile, and she tapped lightly on the greenhouse door. "Joey? Are you in there?"

The singing stopped abruptly, and a second later the door opened. "Miss Ororo? Is that you?" She smiled down into Joey's wide, delighted eyes. "It is you!" She seized Ororo's hand eagerly and pulled her in, closing the door quickly. "I thought maybe Mrs. Seward had told you not to come here anymore! Did she say it was okay?"

Ororo shook her head. "No. She did not. But I am not her charge; I do what I wish. And if I wish to see you, that is what I will do."

"She told me not to see you again."

"And do you always do what she tells you to do?"

Joey smiled. "Not all the time. Depends on what it is. And what the punishment is if I don't do what she says."

Ororo grinned. "It was not too bad wearing wet clothes last night, was it?" she asked.

Joey ducked her head and shrugged. "I've experienced worse." Abruptly changing tacks, she said, "I was going to prune back some of the spring roses today. Would you help me?"

"Of course," Ororo said. "But here. Put this on first." And she took from one of her pockets a smock. It was an old one of hers, a smock that she wore while she was gardening so that dirt and plant clippings wouldn't soil her clothes.

"Oh, wow!" Joey took it. "I wanted one of these, but Mrs. Seward wouldn't get one for me. She said it was an unnecessary cost and she wouldn't budget for one. Thank you, Miss Ororo!"

"You are welcome, child. Now, let us have a look at the roses."

She worked companionably alongside the child, listening to the little girl's voice prattle happily on about her flowers, the weather, and her former life in France with her mother. Ororo listened, made quiet responses at appropriate intervals, and in the meantime wondered more at what the girl wasn't saying. There was no mention of what she did during the day; no mention of her current life and activities. And the omission disturbed Ororo more than she cared to admit.

They stopped for a break some time later, and Ororo looked at her watch. "My Goddess, we have been at this almost two hours now. Aren't you tired?" she asked the girl.

Joey looked up, eyes wide and shook her head. "Are you?"

"I could use a break," Ororo admitted, sitting down on an overturned plastic milk crate and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

Joey reached behind another crate and brought out a plastic bottle of water, which Ororo took and sipped gratefully. "I'm sorry I don't have any snacks for you," she said regretfully.

"What?" Ororo lowered the water.

"I've seen you in your garden. Last week your friend, the woman with the white streak in her hair…she brought out a picnic basket while you were working and you and she sat down and had lunch outside." Joey sighed enviously. "I wish I could do that. I'd love to be able to eat lunch outside sometimes, when it's really nice, and listen to the birds and the wind while I eat."

"Why don't you?"

Joey got up off the crate and busied herself with the roses in a planter on the other side of the greenhouse so Ororo wouldn't see her expression. "Mrs. Seward says it's dirty out here, and the germs will get into the food."

Ororo stood up and walked over to where Joey was standing. "And you do not agree. But if she won't let you have meals, perhaps you could bring snacks out here…"

"I'm not allowed to have snacks. I had to sneak the water out here."

Ororo blinked. "No snacks?"

"Mrs. Seward says junk food is bad for me. It will make me fat. I get oatmeal or cereal for breakfast, except Sundays; it's either eggs and sausage or pancakes and bacon on Sundays. Then it's tuna salad, bologna, or chicken noodle soup for lunch. And dinner is beef stew, slices of roast beef or chicken and potatoes, and corn or beans or peas." Joey sighed, and looked off into space for a second. "I miss living in France. We'd have turnovers, or croissants for breakfast, or French toast that Mama used to make; and lunch was subs, or peanut butter and jelly, or we'd go out and have burgers and fries or hot sandwiches at the local deli. And Maman would let me have hot chocolate, or chips, and dinner was whatever we wanted." She sighed. "I miss having pizza, and the hot dogs! I miss the big foot-long hot dogs with chili and cheese and pickles and mustard and ketchup and big greasy fries with cheese or gravy or ketchup on them."

Ororo grinned. "Have you ever had Cajun sausage?" she said.

Joey grinned. "I love the spicy kind."

Ororo smiled. "Remy makes a very good Cajun sausage. The butcher he goes to down in Greenwich village uses a unique blend of spices, and once in a while Remy will go down there and buy a lot, and he will cook that up with fried rice and red beans and it is very good. There are never any leftovers on the night when he makes that."

Joey sighed. "I wish I could taste some. I miss the foods I used to have with Maman."

"What do you miss the most?"

Joey sighed. "Oh, gosh, I can't decide. Pizza, I guess. Chocolate. Big soft pretzels with cheese. Peanut butter jelly sandwiches. Corn on the cob. Huge greasy burgers with fries, cheesesteak subs, soda, lemonade, apple pie, doughnuts, ice cream…my favorite is strawberry… and spaghetti with meatballs, and chili, and…there's too much I miss," she turned back to her plants with a wistful look. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"It's all right, child," Ororo said gently. "What time are you usually free in the afternoons?"

Joey stared up at the roof as she spoke aloud. "Well, I'm up at six, and I have breakfast at seven. At eight I go and have lessons until twelve. Then I have lunch, and three more lessons, which are over at two in the afternoon. I usually come out here and work in the greenhouse until dinner at five o'clock. At six I go and do my homework, and study and read until eight, then I go for my bath, and afterward I have a half-hour of free time until I have to be in bed at nine."

"So you have three hours in the afternoon." Ororo digested this quietly. "I could use some help in my garden about this time of year. Why not meet me at the willow by the lake around two-thirty tomorrow? Unless you have something else you have to do."

"No, I'm pretty much done here for a couple of weeks," Joey said, pushing a strand of hair back from her forehead. "Really, I don't put in all that much work on them. I come out here to get away from them in there," she waved at the house. "I just…I need time for myself, time when no one is watching me to see if I'm making a mess, or not being ladylike. And I hate that."

"Joette!" Joey almost jumped as she heard Mrs. Seward's voice floating out at them over the still lawn. "I have to go," she said. "Wait until I've gone before you leave; if she sees you I'll be grounded. I'm not supposed to see you anymore. She'll be mad if she finds out you're here." As she spoke, she was shimmying out of her smock and storing it hastily away under the crate that she had hidden the bottle of water back in. She pulled a key out from under her shirt, a key on a chain, and handed it to Ororo hurriedly. "Lock the door when you go, please?" And then she was off, running across the lawn toward the house.

Ororo waited until the girl had disappeared toward the house, and counted to ten slowly before stepping out. It seemed strange to be sneaking around like this; but she was a former thief, after all…and Joey seemed so very lonely, and in need of a friend. Ororo couldn't think of a reason why she shouldn't become friends with the girl; she couldn't figure out why anyone should be so adverse to the idea of her becoming friends with Joey.

She made her way back to the mansion, still thinking, and was washing her hands at the kitchen sink when Remy came in. "What's up, chere?" he said teasingly as he went over to the fridge and took out a bottle of soda. "You look pensive."

"You are going out tomorrow, aren't you?" Ororo asked instead of answering him.

"Oui," Remy said. "Why?"

"Could you stop at the butcher's in the Village and pick up a pound or so of the Cajun sausage? And cook it the way you usually do?"

Remy frowned. "De butcher only make de sausage on de day I'm comin', chere," he said with a touch of regret in his voice. "He not goin' to have any tomorrow. Je suis desole."

Ororo sighed. "I shall have to see what else I can do, then," and she opened the refrigerator door, examining the contents.

"What you plannin' t'do, chere?" Remy put his soda down and looked at her curiously.

Ororo closed the refrigerator door. "I met a child yesterday," she began, and proceeded to tell Remy about Joey. Remy hitched himself up on the counter and sat with his legs dangling over the edge, listening to Ororo talk and taking sips from his soda while he did so.

"I do not understand the people she lives with," Ororo finished. "She lives as though she were in a military camp, not a mansion. She is desperately lonely, dislikes the adults around her, and has no fun. I do not know how her father could leave her in a situation like that. I invited her over tomorrow afternoon to get her to help me with my garden, and I wanted to allow her to have some of the foods she says she misses."

"How old is she? Treize?"

"Twelve, I think," Ororo said.

Remy made a dismissive noise. "I stop by de pizza place an' pick up a couple of pizzas. Some soda, too; Coke, maybe. I know teenagers; dey could live on pizza." He shook her head. "Shame she don't get to have fun. Wan' me to stop by the chocolatier on my way back and pick up some chocolat?"

Ororo smiled. "She did say she misses that," she said. "If it is not too far out of your way, I would appreciate it."

"Remy can do dat," he said. "An' may I join you two? Remy kin' of curious about her too. I been seein' her hangin' 'roun' de back garden for de las' couple o' months; she int'res' me too."

"You have seen her?" Ororo looked at Remy.

"Eh, little glimpse here an' dere," Remy said. "She very shy. She hide behin' dat old oak all de time, an' watch you an' Rogue working. She look like she want to come up an' say somet'ing, but she never come out. Remy feel sorry for her."

"Why?"

Remy gave her an odd look. "She so scared all de time. I tell you, 'Ro, dere's more dan jus' loneliness goin' on in dat house o' hers. I seen enough to know she probably been traumatized by somet'ing. Maybe as you get more comfortable wit' her maybe she open up a little an' tell you what wrong. It not natural for a chile to be so scare' like dat all de time."

"Remy, it is a new country. She has lived in France for the last seven years; the adjustment, from what she has known to what she has now, must be severe."

"Maybe," Remy said, unconvinced. "Wait. She say she get punished for what she do wrong. Do you t'ink maybe she get…physically punished?"

Ororo shuddered at the idea. "What could she possibly do so wrong to warrant that kind of treatment?" she asked. "She is so withdrawn, so anxious to please within reasonable bounds, and she never goes anywhere. What could she do that would make them punish her?"

"Don' know," Remy said, shrugging. "I could be wrong. Hope I am. Don' worry, 'Ro. I get your girl her pizza." He slid off the counter and headed out of the kitchen.

Ororo sighed, and started dinner preparations. She was deep in thought when another voice spoke behind her. "Ororo?"

She turned. "Yes, Charles?"

Xavier reached up onto the counter and stole a bit of pepperoni she was slicing for the salad. "Your new acquaintance sounds interesting," he said neutrally.

"Was Remy talking?" Ororo frowned.

"No, of course not. No, I heard your thoughts. You were thinking rather loudly," he said with a twinkle in his eye and a polite cough behind his hand.

Ororo had to smile at that, and she handed him another slice. "I am sorry. I hope I did not disturb you."

"Not at all," Xavier said. "Actually, that is why I came to see you. I do remember something of her father. I thought you might be interested."

"Hold that thought," Ororo said, and opened the oven quickly, checking the roast. "Go ahead." She closed the oven door, put her cooking mitt down on the counter, and gave Charles her undivided attention.

"Henry LeFevre attended the same college I did," Xavier said, steepling his fingers as he spoke. "He was a very quiet, intense, studious young man. I had my share of wild college nights.." and Ororo grinned, having trouble imagining Charles as a brash young man drinking the night away. Charles smiled back. "Oh yes. But Henry never did. He was the valedictorian of the class; he got his bachelor's degree in business. I didn't see much of him afterward; we went our separate ways. It was after I returned here that I found out he had purchased a manor home, and it was right next door. We renewed our acquaintance for a few years, and then he went to France on some errand or another for his company. I remember one Christmas, I invited him over, and he brought with him his girlfriend from France." Charles sighed. "Elise, her name was. She was beautiful, exotic, and he loved her so much. She didn't speak a word of English then." He smiled. "He moved to France with her; then, when his company transferred him here, she came back to the States with him and married him. I was at their wedding.

"He loved her, and she loved him. They looked like the perfect couple. She got pregnant soon, with their child; and he was so proud! He went out and hired decorators to do an entire suite of rooms for the child. When their daughter was born they were so happy.

"But his company transferred him to Germany. He came home for the holidays, but the time apart was too much for their marriage. She would beg him to stay when he came home, and cried when he left, and I think he hated having to leave, but he had an obligation, and he went. Finally she couldn't stand it any more. She filed for divorce and took the child with her to France when she moved back.

"Henry was devastated. He closed up the house he had purchased for them, and took off. I've lost touch with him over the years. I did read in the papers a couple months ago that his wife had died, and he now had custody of his daughter, and I knew he'd reopened the house he bought for his wife…but I hadn't heard from him, and I assumed he had taken the child with him. Though, from what you're telling me, I assume he has not."

"No," Ororo said quietly. "He left her in the care of a nanny and a couple of tutors, and she has not seen her since he brought her to live in the mansion next door. Joette is not happy; the nanny he has left her with has no idea how to handle a sensitive personality like hers. She seems to think Joey's shyness is due to a sullen temperament rather than a reclusive nature and the newness of her situation. And the fact that her father is absent and she cannot air her grievances exacerbates her discomfort with her current surroundings."

"What does she look like?" Xavier asked curiously. Ororo gave him a description of the girl, and Xavier started nodding when she described the child's eyes.

"Her mother had those same eyes," he said quietly. "Even I remember them. Maybe that is why he is avoiding her. She reminds him too much of her mother. If she looks like her mother, their marriage will haunt him, and especially the way she died. And he never did get the chance to say goodbye to her."

"What did happen? Joey said her mother died, but she did not say how."

"A drunk driver slammed into her mother's car one evening, and killed her instantly. I read about it in the papers. Joette had a concussion and a broken leg. The funeral was conducted quickly and discreetly by Elise's brother; and when Joette came out of the hospital the first thing they did was take her to her mother's tombstone. It was a devastating thing to do to a child twelve years old. Her uncle would have liked to take her, but Elise had left instructions in her will that should anything happen to her, Joey was to go to her father in America. That is why she is here."

Ororo was shaking her head. "Poor child. No wonder she seems traumatized. Charles, do you have a problem with her coming to help me in my garden? She has a magic touch when it comes to flowers. Her greenhouse is full of her efforts."

"Her mother was good with growing things, too, as I recall," Charles said as he took a handful of plates from the counter to begin setting the supper table. "She did have a mutant gene, though unless you count her way with plants, it didn't show. Henry is an empath. Very low level; he only uses it to sense truth or lies at the negotiating table. It's why he's so successful at his business." Charles hmmph'd. "Henry is a mutant, Elise was one too. I wonder if Joette will be one as well; and what abilities she will manifest."

"Only time will tell." Ororo opened the oven and lifted the roast out. "Charles, if you will begin setting the table, and call everyone for dinner…"