Marian 6

	The Ellis House for Troubled Orphans sat on a low hill, surrounded by fairly 
empty lawn in all directions.  Those lawns were bounded by chain link fences at least a 
dozen feet tall, and topped with new barbed wire, angled inward.  There were brackets for 
outward angled wire, but only shards of wire were left at a few brackets.  The building 
itself was a three story Victorian ramshackle with a three-quarter porch, faded and 
peeling yellow paint, and green shutters.
	There was iron work on the windows, and though it was of a style that might be 
Victorian, it looked too new, and too secure.  The fence gate had an intercom and keypad, 
and apparently could only be opened by someone on the inside, or someone who knew 
the code.  Marian could only guess that the same was true from the inside.  Kenneth was 
busy having a conversation with the person on the other end of the intercom, which 
eventually resulted in the gate opening, and the truck rolling up the drive, into a small lot 
occupied mostly by small busses and full size vans.
	The building wasn’t in bad shape, but it didn’t look like an orphanage to the 
tabby, as she stepped out, and tugged the bottom of her skirt down again.  The damned 
thing had been Ken’s idea, and the clingy fabric kept riding up.  He had enjoyed the view, 
on the two-hour drive over to this suburb, as well as making quite a nuisance with his free 
hand.  She did, however, manage to keep a fairly presentable appearance.
	Once within the fences, the gate shut behind them, they began to see signs of life.  
There were bicycles on a rack in front of the house, as well as the occasional scooter and 
one unicycle.  There was a large, wooden swing set to one side of the building, more of a 
miniature public park than anything else.  But the place still looked like a bleak prison, 
rather than the happy if underfunded places that Marian preferred to think of.
	The place was dilapidated, but still standing.  Trotting out from the front door, off 
the porch, was an old battleaxe of a bear, female of course.  She had steel-gray hair, 
pulled back into a bun, and was heavyset, even for an ursine.  But she managed a smile, 
and in it, Marian saw kindness.
	“Sorry to keep you both waiting.  My name’s Sheila McWatters, but call me 
Sheila.  You’re here about Rheannon?”
	“That’s right, Sheila.” Ken generally did the talking, while Marian stuck close by 
his side, wide eyed and curious.  She felt almost like a child, herself awed by a building 
that held some mixture of dread and excitement for every child.  Marian, like most, had 
occasionally wished that her ‘real parents’ would come and take her away from the 
demons she had grown up with.  Not that her parents had been bad folks, but she had 
disagreed with them sometimes.
	The thought that she might have been adopted always gave her leave to fantasize 
imaginary parents who had left her to ‘a better life’, only to come into some money 
shortly after, or become famous for something, and spend the next however many years 
searching for the daughter they had lost.  Of course, those fantasies had never had to face 
the bleak reality of this worn-down building and its former proprietors.
	“Rheannon was on the edge of the last scandal.  She’s been… edgy, since.  Very 
distrustful of strangers, especially males.  Perhaps first your wife could meet her, get her 
to calm down, and then we’ll bring you in.  I’ve cleared the little hellions out of the 
library, so you should have some peace, if only for an hour or so.  Sound like a plan?”
	The pair looked at each other, and nodded.  Ken sat on a rocking chair on the 
porch, while the tabby let herself be led inside.  Once the doors had shut fully, Sheila 
gave her a critical once over.  “What’s got you so terrified of him, honey?”
	“Hmm?  Oh!  No, you’ve got the wrong idea, Miss.  I’m not in an abusive 
relationship.”  It was a common assumption, when people saw her deferring to the 
husky’s judgment, letting him make decisions, or standing just a bit behind him as she 
usually did out of habit.  “Ken’s a wonderful husband.  Just strong.  And he leads, I 
follow.  It works out well that way.  He doesn’t abuse me, or my trust, got it?”
	“Just checking.  Anyway, here’s the library.  I’ll bring Rheannon in as soon as I 
find her.”
	Marian sat down on the wide, comfortable, if worn, couch, and leaned back.  The 
titles on the lower shelves of the library were all children’s books, with the targeted age 
level increasing as she scanned higher, until she found the old textbooks on calculus and 
the newer, but still obviously used, computer programming books.  The room was 
comfortably lit, mostly by a few lamps that sat over the three desks scattered about, but 
they were assisted and watched over by a big dome light in the ceiling.
	After a few moments, she stood and started pacing the shelves, fingertips drifting 
over the worn bindings.  She was no bibliophile, but she did enjoy books, and this was 
something like a trip down memory lane.  Arabian Nights, Moby Dick, The Three 
Musketeers, and a dozen other titles from her childhood drifted past her fingertips before 
she heard the door creak open.  There was Sheila, holding a young leopard girl by the 
hand.  When the girl saw Marian, she just stared with wide, innocent eyes for a moment, 
then ducked half behind the ursine.
	“Now, Rheannon, I told you.  She’s not here to hurt you, or anything.  Just to talk.  
Go on in, sit down.  I’ll be right down the hall making dinner if you need anything, either 
of you.”  With that she left the two felines, watching each other.
	Finally, the little one padded over to one of the desks, and hopped up onto it.  The 
seven year old watched as Marian sat again on the couch, and neither of them blinked.  
After another few moments, the tabby smiled.  “Hi there Rheannon.  Come sit with me?” 
she made her tone soft and made it a request, rather than the stronger tone she would have 
used if she wanted obedience.  The kitten hesitated, but finally slid off the desk, and onto 
the couch.  At the far end from Marian, but it was progress.
	“I’m Marian.  What can you tell me about yourself, sweety?”
	For the first time, she heard the little girl’s voice, a high, unsteady pitch that 
couldn’t keep in the same range no matter how she tried to steady it, but wavered up and 
down inside it’s octave.  “I’m Rheannon.  Ummm… I’m seven years old and, uh… I’m 
in the first grade.  I don’t really like the… umm… numbers, but I like music class?” she 
half-shrugged, hoping that had been enough of an attempt.”
	“Mm…  I remember music class.  It was nice.  Do you get to play instruments?”
	“No, we just sing.  And sometimes, Mr. Grant plays the drum to help us sing 
together.”
	“Who’s Mr. Grant?”
	“The music teacher at the school.”
	“Say…  Rheannon, it’s after lunch.  What are you usually doing at this time of the 
day?”
	The girl shrugged again, then pointed at the window.  “Usually I’m out playing on 
the swings.  But today Miss Sheila said I had to come talk to some people about maybe 
going home with them.  That’s you, right?”
	Marian nodded.
	She stifled a laugh as the little girl looked her over, much as the ursine had earlier.  
“You don’t look like a bad person.  Want to go out and play?”
	“That sounds like fun!”  Marian paused in the hall to let Sheila know they were 
going outside to play a little, and talk more, then headed out the front door.  Ken looked 
over at her, and made to stand up, but a quick shake of her head set him back, just 
watching, finger and thumb pulling lightly at his chin.
	Outside, sitting side by side on the swings, Marian and Rheannon discussed at 
great length the pros and cons of swinging high as opposed to swinging low, and Marian 
described her home on the ranch at great length, as well as making several oblique 
references to Kenneth.  Finally, the girl asked about her husband, and she pointed over 
toward him, sitting on the porch.  He as well got the sizing up treatment.
	“He doesn’t look mean.” Was the verdict.  “Does he spank.”
	Marian blinked a little and tilted her head.  “Yes.  Yes he does.  But not to be 
mean.  Never that.”
	“How do you know.  Does he spank you?”
	Marian giggled a little, and leaned in close.  “He does, but it’s a secret!  Promise 
not to tell?”
	The little leopard giggled and nodded, the motion a bit exaggerated.  “Can we go 
meet him?”
	“Sure.  You sure you want to?”
	“Uh-huh!”
	They walked over to Ken, who grinned, and offered Rheannon his hand.  She 
shook it, staring at him solemnly.  After a long, quite moment, he stood up and gave his 
wife a kiss, then tugged her down into his lap as he sat.  Once she was settled, he patted 
her lap, and raised a brow in the kitten’s direction.  The prospect of fun finally won out 
over caution, and she sat up in the tabby’s lap.
	At the end of the visit, Rheannon was smiling.  Sheila seemed pleased, and 
mentioned that they should probably make visits regular, and did next Sunday at the same 
time sound good?  Both Ken and Marian replied in the affirmative.  Rheannon waved 
happily as the truck rumbled down the drive.

	After a dinner in the city, they were driving home, with Marian curled up against 
her husband as they sped down the near empty highway.  “I don’t know, Ken… but I 
think she’s the one.  I can feel it.  She’s so… innocent.  And she deserves a better life 
than that.”
	“They all deserve a better life than that, but I think you’re right.  She seems… to 
fit.  But let’s see if she warms up to us more over the next few visits, okay.  In a month or 
so, when we know for sure, we’ll start the paperwork, deal?”
	“Deal.”