ON THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL

Some have expressed concern that I've given up this story. I assure you I have not. It was a matter of figuring out the next chapter, that's all. It's one thing to know what to write; knowing how to write it is (pardon the pun) another story.

Anyone who thinks writing is easy, I would love to see them try. Well, here you go, friends, and I hope it's sufficient reward for keeping you waiting.

Characters (with exceptions) © Disney

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

Chapter 17: Serious Talk

Arietta and Armando arrived at the cottage in the early afternoon, just as the rain was beginning to abate at last. This time, Terence was the one to greet them at the door. "Sorry we're late, Terence," said Arietta as soon as they were inside.

"The weather set us back a bit," said Armando, throwing back his hood and sweeping his dark, somewhat damp hair out of his eyes.

"That's all right," Terence answered. "The important thing is you're here now. Here, let me take those for you." He took his companions' cloaks and hung them on the wall next to the door, while Armando rubbed his hands together and breathed on them. Seeing this, Terence suggested, "Why don't you two take a minute to warm up by the fire, before you do anything else?"

They both smiled, touched at the kind gesture. "Thank you," said Arietta.

"That would be really nice," Armando said. "It's a wee bit nippy outside, as you can guess."

In the parlor, the fire had been stoked once more, and it was large and bright enough to the point where Arietta and Armando felt warm and snug in no time at all.

"Ah," Armando sighed, holding his hands as close to the flames as possible without getting burned. "Now this is what I call living the good life."

"Indeed," said Arietta as she held out her hands as well. "Terence is so sweet and thoughtful. I'm loving this job already. I would do this even if we weren't getting a penny for it."

"It's a far cry from our last job, that's for sure," her husband replied.

Neither of them noticed, at least right away, that Rhiella was in the same room at that same time. When they did see her, they were startled at first, but only for a moment. Even in her modest attire, the young woman's beauty was definite, her queenly grace unmistakable. The sight of her made Armando's eyes widen, and his jaw almost hit the floor. Even Arietta had to admire her. "Hello," Rhiella told them, offering a friendly smile.

"Who are you, miss?" Arietta asked.

Right at that moment, Terence came into the room. Smiling himself, he said grandly, "Armando, Arietta, there's someone very special I'd like you to meet. This is Rhiella."

"Pleased to meet you all," Rhiella said with a small curtsy.

Armando stared at the girl for another minute before he turned to Terence and asked in a low, stunned voice, "You mean, this is the Rhiella?"

Terence nodded. "The one true love of my life."

Remembering her manners, Arietta made a little curtsy as well. "Hello, Rhiella. It is truly a pleasure to meet you."

"So, you're Arietta," Rhiella said, regarding the other girl thoughtfully. When Arietta and Armando looked at her in surprise, she said, "Terence told me all about you. I understand you're old friends of Pinocchio, as well as his teachers."

"That is correct, madam," Armando said when he found his tongue again. "At least, we're his teachers, more or less. It's part of a bargain we made the other day with Terence."

"I see. Well, I'm sure you do a fine job."

"We do our best, at any rate," Arietta said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Pinocchio coming in, too. Her face brightened. "Ah, there's our star pupil now!"

"Hey, there, sport," said Armando. "Ready for day two of your lessons?"

"I guess so," the boy replied, ambivalently avoiding looking at Rhiella and Terence.

"I'm afraid the kitchen hasn't been quite tidied up yet," said Terence. "Would you mind doing your lessons in here? You can use that little table over there."

"That will be just fine," said Armando. "I'd rather do this by the warm glow of the fire, anyway."

"If you need anything, send the word," Terence said as he headed out of the room, with Rhiella following close behind. "Good luck with your studies, Pinocchio."

Pinocchio had already brought his homework with him, so Armando and Arietta just pulled their books out of their bags and stacked them together at one end of the table. As soon as the threesome were comfortably seated, Armando said, "Okay, let's have a look at those papers—" He stopped short when he noticed the ugly, discolored bump on Pinocchio's temple for the first time. Arietta saw it, too, and gasped.

"My goodness, Pinocchio," Armando said, "what happened to you?"

Looking down, as if in embarrassment, Pinocchio said softly, "I—I had a little accident this morning."

Armando and Arietta both winced. "Ooooh…looks like you took quite a wallop there," Armando said.

Pinocchio started to nod, then thought better of it. "I sure did."

"Are you all right?" Arietta asked. "Does it hurt very much?"

"Yes, it does, especially when I touch it."

"Well, then, we'll go easy on you today," said Armando. "Let us know if your head hurts too much."

Pinocchio handed his papers over, and Armando began to leaf through them one by one while Arietta watched over his shoulder. "Hmmm," Armando murmured as they surveyed Pinocchio's words and numbers. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"You've got a remarkably steady hand, Pinocchio," Arietta noted.

Armando read over Pinocchio's arithmetic problems. "One and two is three…two and two is four…five and two is seven…excellent! Well done, Pinoke. I can tell you're getting the hang of this already. I daresay you're a budding mathematician."

"A what?"

"Someone who's very good at math," Arietta explained. "I'm impressed with how well you do in art, too. You're a real artist."

Pinocchio smiled, but it was a halfhearted smile. He would have appreciated the praise much more if his head wasn't hurting so badly, and if there weren't other things weighing so heavily on his mind and heart. They proceeded with their lessons as they had the day before, but Pinocchio only half-listened to what his tutors were saying, and he didn't say much as he did his work.

Then, while Armando was reading about the Ninth Crusade, the boy at last spoke of his own accord. "Armando?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly. What's this 'something' about?" Armando marked his book before he closed it and set it aside. He leaned across the table a little, to show Pinocchio had his undivided attention. Arietta was listening intently, too.

Pinocchio would have wanted very much to talk to Armando and Arietta about Rhiella and Terence, and how he felt about it, but he wasn't sure how to put it into proper words. He didn't see how his friends would understand, anyway. Still, there was something else they could talk about—something Armando and Arietta could personally relate to.

"Well," said the boy, winding the end of his trousers around his little fingers, as he often did when he was nervous, "it's about Fabrizio."

At the mention of the name, Armando's posture stiffened, as did Arietta's. It surprised them that Pinocchio, of all people, would give voice to that name. "What about him?" Armando asked after a long, tense moment.

"Well," Pinocchio said a second time, "I've just been wondering…how did you deal with it?"

"Deal with it?" Arietta repeated.

"Didn't it ever bother you that the man you used to work for was…d-dead?" Pinocchio nearly choked on that last word. "I mean, how did you get over it? What did you do about it?"

Neither Armando nor Arietta spoke for a good while.

Arietta looked away, her face troubled, while Armando covered his face with one hand. He shook his head several times before he dragged his hand to his chin and opened his eyes. When at last he spoke, he said in a soft, uncharacteristically serious voice, "You're right, Pinocchio. Fabrizio's death did bother us, more so than you can imagine. Still does to this day, as a matter of fact. Much as we detested that man, we never expected him to die, least of all in that fashion."

"What do you do?" Pinocchio asked. "How do you bear it?"

"We just take it one day at a time," said Arietta. "We get on with our lives, do the best we can. We engage in worthwhile activities. Armando helps me, and I help him."

"Didn't you feel like you were to blame for his death, at least in some way?"

"No," said Armando. "Such a thought never once crossed my mind, to tell you the truth." Then he realized what the child was getting at. "Oh, Pinocchio—surely you don't blame yourself?"

Pinocchio's face was bright red, and it wasn't due to the firelight, either. Though he didn't say anything, Armando and Arietta knew straight off.

"Oh, Pinocchio," said Arietta solicitously, never hesitating to scoot closer to him and put her arms around him. "Surely you know it was an accident."

Bowing his head, Pinocchio murmured, "I know it was an accident. But I still feel that Fabrizio might still be alive, had it not been for me. After all, I was the one who lured him onto that wire in the first place."

"You had no way of knowing what would happen," said Armando. "It's not as though you deliberately intended to harm him."

"No, but it happened all the same."

"That's how it is much of the time, my young friend. Sometimes what happens just…happens."

"You mustn't blame yourself," Arietta said as she smoothed back his hair. "You've got nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about."

When Pinocchio peered up into her face again, he quavered, "But I see him, Arietta. I'm always seeing his face, hearing his voice, as if he were really there. I can hardly sleep at night, can hardly close my eyes, knowing he'll be there—and he'll say—he'll say—" Arietta placed a gentle finger over his lips to shush him, and then she held him quietly for the next little while, like she used to do at the circus.

While Pinocchio didn't quite break down and bawl, he did shed a few tears, and he made a sort of whimper, like a frightened kitten.

"You poor kid," said Armando, shaking his head very sadly and sympathetically.

"Does Terence know you're feeling this way?" Arietta asked after a time. "Have you talked to him about this?"

"He knows I've been having a lot of bad dreams lately," said Pinocchio when he found his voice again. "He knows what's going on."

"But have you actually talked with him?" asked Armando. "I mean, have you two ever sat down together and had a serious discussion about this?"

Pinocchio thought about it for a minute before he confessed, "N-not really."

"Well, perhaps that's just what you need," Armando said. "I have a hunch that keeping all of this stuffed down inside is part of your problem, Pinoke."

"It sounds like you and Terence haven't truly taken the time to deal with this," said Arietta very gently.

"We've dealt with it," Pinocchio protested. "Now I just want everything to be all right again."

"There's more to the healing process than that," Arietta informed him patiently. "It takes time and sincere effort."

"It's not like you get over something just like that," said Armando, with an emphatic click of his fingers. "You can't expect a quick fix, or an easy way out. It's not a matter of hit and run."

"What more can I do?"

"Well, you've already begun by saying outright that you have a problem," Arietta said. "You made it clear that you need help."

"We'll do our best to help in any way we can," Armando added as he reached across the table for Pinocchio's hand. "I know Terence would be more than willing to help in any way he can, too. But what happens, my boy, ultimately depends on you. You can choose to try to run away from this, sit around and let it eat you up, or face it straight on."

In spite of himself, the faintest smile played at the corners of Pinocchio's mouth.

Somehow, Armando and Arietta always knew just what to say, and somehow Pinocchio felt this lesson they were giving him now was far more effective than their lessons of history and mathematics.