Chapter One, Episode 66 -Tipped - Situationally Theirs

Review, Edit and Update:

The first few sentences in this little piece just needed some better word crafting. Other than that, it seemed a fairly well written piece about the possible shift in power balance from Brigitte as Emelina's (her boss) caregiver, to a very unknown role with her boss.

Tipped

10 a.m. That was the time Emelina and Brigitte had agreed upon. Brigitte had no idea what would unfold. She hoped she was up to the task, except she didn’t know what the task or tasks would be. Always up for a challenge, Brigitte was also excited by the opportunity to learn and grow. She had worked for Emelina Beaufort for four years. Now that she thought about it, those four years had been a breeze. Come to work, keep Miss Emelina’s schedule on track, clean and keep dusted the upstairs and go home. She really was her own boss. Although she did help with the cleaning downstairs, it was not her main job. She even had uniforms that she was to keep cleaned and ironed. When dressed, she smirked at herself in her full length mirror. She looked the image of an Upstairs Downstairs maid. Black dress with a lacy white collar, black shoes and stockings and a fussy little white cap. Since the pandemic restrictions and isolation, all those uniforms had been relegated to the back of her closet. Should she be wearing one today? Living out at her parent’s cabin on a quiet little lake, she’d not had to worry about such silly things as dress codes. In the last while, when she came into work, she dressed in leggings and long t-shirts. No one said a thing, not even Miss Emelina. 

But this morning was different. She would be working for the same person but in a very different capacity. Pulling one garment out after another, she held them in front of her as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Casual but business like? A dress? She owned one dress and only wore it if she felt she had to to make some kind of an impression. Maybe her coral capris and white shirt. If she put a vest on as well? With her best sandals? That would look fairly smart. Brigitte was just not a clothes horse so didn’t have much to choose from. She was quite annoyed with herself that she had not asked her boss how she should dress. Too late now. She’d just have to wing it and hope for the best.

Brigitte slumped down on the rattan basket chair by her bed. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, head in her hands. She knew she was overthinking this situation. Clothes were not her thing, so she’d just go with the capri outfit and if it was wrong, she would fix it. What on earth is wrong with me?! Brigitte stood up, looked herself in her eye in the mirror and said “‘Get over it and get on with it’. ~ That’s what my dad would say. Then he would say ‘do you still want this job and with this person?” That’s where Brigitte took over. “I’ll ask for a job description…no no that won’t work. Miss Emelina doesn’t even know what the job is yet. Ok - here it is and I’m talking outloud to myself. I will bring paper, pencils, a clipboard, my self and a heathy dose of open-mindedness. Brigitte suddenly realized that she was afraid of the tipped power balance. Once she had been in control, because Miss Emelina didn’t want any control. Emelina was now trying to assert herself as the Lady of the Manor, for lack of better words. She had to let go of all the trappings of that old, and very dated life. Brigitte needed to support her in that role, in a similar manner as she supported her in the past. This time, however, would be much more challenging. To watch someone stumble and grow, over and over again is much more difficult than doing all the work for them. “Not going to happen, Miss Emelina! No way. You want to find a purpose for this place, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Brigitte showered and dressed, earrings on, face powdered,  had coffee and her breakfast. Briefcase in hand, she got in her car and drove to the mansion. It was just 9:55am when she arrived. Emelina was just coming out the door as Brigitte got out of her car. “I see you’re all ready for the day. Good. Because the first place I want to go is the garden. Then it will be on to the university. We have some history to find before we can make a plan. Giles has the car ready. When we’re done talking with Samuel, Giles will drive us out to the university library. After some research, it should be lunch time and we can take a break. We’re meeting Dez after lunch at her apartment.”

“You need a balance in life between dealing with whats going on inside 

and not being so absorbed in yourself that it takes over.”

~ Nigella Lawson

Chapter One, Episode 65 - Nightmare - Situationally Theirs

Review, Edit and Update:

This is my first blog post since July 09, 2020.  I am glad to be back. 

For this piece, I've altered the format slightly by italicizing the dream sequence. Then, in the first paragraph I have restructured the last sentence by splitting it into two sentences for clarity. Further on, I added some detail about Emelina's original bedroom.

Nightmare

It was about history. Not the war of 1812 or the sinking of the Titanic. It was Emmie’s personal history. No, not even that. It really was about the Beaufort Estate history. A part of her home that Emmie just did not know. 

In the night, Emelina tossed and turned. Dreams of Samuel digging up the entire garden. Flinging plants everywhere. Martha and Cook laughed and laughed, while eating gigantic lemon meringue pies. Digby paced the watery spacious kitchen, ignoring the two women. He pulled a wagon filled with enormous ledgers, pages spilling out of them that he had to keep picking up, stuffing them back into one ledger or the other. Her long dead but still handsome husband, Michael, shook his finger at her and said something that Emmie couldn’t understand. Like an echo floating through thick fog, words stretched out like molten taffy. From the branch of the ancient redwood, Sarah stood on her swing, jumped high in the air and disappeared. Jeremy streaked through it all in his silver car. Brigitte wandered the ragged edges, sometimes there and sometimes not. In every scene there were men, women and children Emelina didn’t recognize. They drifted and swayed, like gray frayed curtains blowing in the wind.

Emelina sat bolt upright, panting. She wiped the perspiration from her face, her pyjamas soaked in sweat. She was cold, cold. She flung her covers back, grabbed the fleece blanket she kept on her chair and wrapped herself in it. The house was silent. She was the only one there - except maybe Sarah, the estate ghost. Emelina, slipped on the slippers Martha had made for her, and went out into the dining room. Clutching the blanket with one hand to keep it around her shoulders, she walked to the window and pushed aside the satiny blue curtain. Outlined in silver, Sarah was on her swing. The full moon made her more ghostly than ever. The moon threw a shadow from the great old tree toward the house. Sarah’s movements cast strange black shadows that moved back and forth, back and forth. Now that Emelina was awake and upright, she knew what she had to do. Clarity about the details would come later. The grandfather clock in the living room struck three. To return to her bed would not be comfortable, the sheets cold and damp from her nightmare. Pulling the slipping blanket more tightly around her, she walked back to her original bedroom that overlooked a tiny flower garden and climbed into a warm, dry bed. Pulling the duvet up to her chin, she turned over and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.”

~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

**Author's note: Now that I have regular internet access, I hope to resume Situationally Theirs as of today, including my morning Updates and my evening posts of new episodes with Dez and Emmie. The timing of them may be a bit off as I am in a very 'moving' process. So many things topsy-turvey and to be relearned! I will now be writing from Saskatchewan.

Chapter One, Episode 64 - 'Where's Brigitte?' - Situationally Theirs

July 09, 2020
Review, Edit and Update
My reviews are finding the same holes. There are not necessarily typos, clarity is often missing, dialogue does not provide an action and timelines are disjointed. This piece was a bit choppy in all three areas. Hopefully, I have cleaned up these areas.

"Where's Brigitte?" 

When Emelina came down for breakfast that morning, she overheard Jeremy say ‘Where’s Brigitte?” She thought nothing of it then. Jeremy was genuinely surprised at all the changes that had taken place. Now, ‘Where’s Brigitte?’ echoed and echoed. She seldom saw Brigitte anymore. Always up early, Emelina would make her own tea, go for a run around the track and begin her day. Her days now were filled with overseeing the estate with Digby’s guidance. But when she went into town to meet with the contacts that Digby had built up over the years, she usually went alone. The books and ledgers he gave her to review were confusing and overwhelming. Emelina had no idea what direction she needed to take. She felt quite at a loss. Where is Brigitte?

~~~~~

Brigitte was worried about her job at the Beaufort Estate. She was worried about the certificate course she was taking online about the role of a Lady’s Maid. “I’m too young to be worried.” Before all the worries of pandemic upheaval, she was Miss Emelina’s personal maid. Now she was merely a housemaid. Dusting, vacuuming, making beds, cleaning the toilets. Not particularly challenging, and definitely not an exciting career path. She seldom saw Miss Emelina anymore. It didn’t seem to matter how early she got to the Estate, Miss Emelina was already up and sitting at the kitchen table with work that Digby would usually be poring over in his office. He would come out of his office and, over her shoulder, would point out something, make a comment, often praising her dogged determination. On one those days when Brigitte arrived to regularly clean the upstairs, Miss Emelina was almost in tears. Brigitte immediately got her a cup of tea, spoke gently to her like she had in the past. Instead of Miss Emelina's grating whine, Miss Emelina just looked up at her, smiled and said softly. “Thank you, Brigitte, but I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed. I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to do. Digby is an amazing help, but I can’t keep interrupting his work because I’m not able to see what I need to do.”

~~~~~

Worried or not, Brigitte looked almost sternly at herself in the mirror and decided that she would speak with her boss. She needed to clear the air before she continued any further with the Lady's Maid course. It just did not seem to match what her job had been. Three hours later, driving toward the estate, a silver convertible sped passed her going in the opposite direction. Barely giving it a glance she kept driving. Minutes later, Brigitte parked at the back of the mansion and was about to go inside when her boss stepped out the back door. “Brigitte! I was just thinking about you. How are you?”

“I am quite fine, ma’am - I meant Miss Emelina. I was just coming to see you.” Brigitte dropped her keys and her nervousness into her voluminous purse.

“Really. What can I help you with?” Emmie's brow furrowed, suddenly anxious. She didn't need to lose Brigitte, her steadiest support for the last four years.

“Are you busy this morning? I mean do you have time to talk with me about my position here?” Brigitte had been caught off guard. She had planned to walk in confidently, state her concerns and ask whether she was still wanted as a lady’s maid.

Caught off guard Emmie had been wondering if Brigitte could somehow help her in her new ventures and it would free up Digby so that he could work uninterrupted.  “Oh my goodness, I hope you’re not planning on leaving us. It did occurr to me that we don’t see each other often. I’m wondering if we need to review your job duties. Certainly, Brigitte, this is a good time for us to talk. My time is certainly my own now that this pandemic has turned everything upside down.”

~~~~~

It may have been the first time Brigitte and Emelina spoke in any depth with each other. They had had many conversations, but seldom about anything other than the colour of a dress, a hairstyle or a scheduled party. This conversation was different. It started right there on the steps of the back porch. After a several hours, Emelina suggested they keep talking while they walked the track. “I haven’t done my morning exercises and it’s almost noon. Do you mind?” What did they talk about? They talked about reshaping their employee/employer relationship. Laughing about some of their past experiences together, they were getting to know each other. In general, they talked about life and how they wanted to live it. 

“Are you hungry? Cook’s off today, but we could drive into town to get some kind of takeout.” Emelina did not want to end this conversation. She really liked Brigitte. She’d never really listened or seen her before. Maybe there was something Emmie had been missing.

“I sure am. Whose car? Yours or mine?” Brigitte was pleased that this was going so well. That course about the Lady’s Maid suggested that this position could evolve into some sort of a Lady’s Companion or Secretary. Is that what is happening here? By redefining their relationships they were also redefining their roles. Brigitte was excited. 

“We’ll take the estate vehicle. I am pleased with this time we’re spending together, Brigitte. I think we may have something here. You took care of me for so long, and I’ve never taken the opportunity to thank you. So, here it is. Thank you so very much. I’m not sure I would have survived without your steadfast care. You did get a bit strict with me from time to time. I guess I needed it.”

“You certainly don’t seem to need the same kind of care now, Miss Emelina. You're doing a great job of 'care' yourself!” Brigitte remembered a few times when she practically had to force her to get up, or to have her hair brushed, or……there were actually more that a few times.

“But Brigitte I do need a sounding board to help me navigate through this new world. I know that you will be straight with me. ” Despite Emmie’s assured demeanour, when she looked in her morning mirror, her eyes betrayed her.

“It’s a new world for all of us, Miss. Like you said, everything’s been turned upside down.” Brigitte was uncomfortable with the tightened restrictions and new rules for living, but just took them as they came at her.

“You’re right about that, Brigitte. But I’m also talking more about my role as head of this operation out here. I’ve done nothing about it since Mike died. Now I don’t know what I want this Estate to represent. I do know I want all of us to stand for something more than a few people going round and round each day, with nothing to show for it. But I need help. Your help. I would like to set up a time about four, maybe five, days a week for us to meet. I’m not clear on what I want to do yet, but that’s where you come in. You know me. I trust you to tell me truths I don’t want to hear but need to hear. What do you say?”

“What do I say? The only thing I could say: ‘what time do you want me here in the morning?’"

"Ten o'clock?"

"Perfect."

“If you are not where you want to be, do not quit, instead, 

reinvent yourself and change your habits.”

~ Eric Thomas

**Authors note: beginning Friday, July 10, 2020 and for the next several days, my Reviews, Edits and Updates may be quite sporadic. I am making an exciting life change that requires my close attention and energy. My ability to write and post my blog will be temporarily impacted. Please bear with me.

Chapter One, Episode 63 - Dr. Jeremy - Episode 63 - Situationally Theirs

Dr. Jeremy

Dr. Jeremy Crawford, long time general surgeon, plucked a rose from Emelina’s garden. He looked at the rose, then at Emelina and back at the rose. “Just a minute Jeremy.” She disappeared into the mudroom. The noise of drawers being opened and rummaged through distracted everyone waiting to see their friend off as though he were leaving for another continent. 

“Here. Let me fix that for you.” Emelina trimmed the rose stem while Jeremy nursed his thorn-ravaged thumb. She slipped the rose through his lapel button hole. “There.” She patted him gently. 

“Don’t you think you’re a little too close, Mrs. Beaufort.” Jeremy smiled wickedly. 

Emmie stepped back, but returned Jeremy's smile and coyly said “Probably, but if you don’t tell, I won’t, Dr. Crawford.”

Ignoring this tender little scene, Martha and James called out from the veranda. “Good bye and drive safely!”

"Don’t you be a stranger, Dr. Crawford. You know I’ll always set you down to a good hearty meal. You have that chicken sandwich and  lentil soup for your supper. And there’s a piece of pie in there too." Jeremy was peering into the brown paper bag that Cook handed him. "The meringue will be a little squished, but it’ll still taste good. See that you eat it all."

Emmie took the bag from him, rolled up the top as Jeremy licked the meringue from his fingers. “See you soon, Jeremy. You’ve always got a meal and a bed out here, Jeremy." She turned him towards his car. "Remember.....you have a late shift tonight. But, when you want a break from your busy hospital life, please come out and rest. There’s usually somebody here, but text me and I’ll make sure of it.” 

Jeremy was very reluctant to leave. He felt more rested than he had for…….he couldn’t remember when. But duty called. He had to leave by noon to get into town, have a short sleep and a quick supper - thanks to Cook - and be at the hospital by 10 p.m. He knew there was at least one surgery already scheduled. It was a late shift and he knew he was getting too old for those kind of hours, but he did love the late shifts. Not so many people rushing around. During the day, there were porters pushing stretchers laden with a sick man, woman or child on their way to X-ray or some diagnostic lab. Slow moving, heavily laden linen carts stacked high with sheets, pyjamas and towels. Lab techs with their rolling carts of tourniquets, vials and cotton balls. Technicians from ECG with their neat little carts of spaghettied wires and leads, rolls of ECG graph paper, tubes of the goop to attach the electrodes. And the supervisors and administrators! Busy poking their bureaucratic noses into important medical or nursing work to make sure that all the i’s were dotted and t’s were crossed. The late shifts just didn’t have all that turmoil. There were still necessary issues to be taken care of and with the same urgency, but not the frenetic energy of Monday to Friday daytime shifts. 

Behind the wheel of his 2018 Porsche Boxster, he laughed at himself. He had purchased this little beauty when they first came out as a…..what…….as a fix. He had been working hard, too hard and his bank balance showed it. He seldom did much more than be at work. He practically haunted the halls of Hartley General. Even when he was off shift. Going home was too difficult because it was so lonely. First, he had moved from the house that he and Elaine had shared for 40 years into one of the brand new high-rises on the edge of Hartley. He was comfortable and enjoyed setting up a single life. But soon the apartment just echoed. As he unpacked, and very slowly, he kept finding pictures of Elaine. Some little trinket of Elaine’s that he had never liked, but she did. He put them away in a box and shoved it to the back of his closet. And then he saw a picture of the Porsche…a convertible Porsche Boxster….silver and shiny. That would fix this black hole in his gut. After two years, it was still a joy to drive but that hole in his insides was still there. Until last night and this morning. That's when he knew he’d be back. Not just for Cook’s food but to feel the space and the closeness that he had felt from the moment he heard Emelina’s voice. 

The drive into Hartley was a short one. The night ahead of him would be a long one. At least now he had that funny, warm family to ground him in what is good in this sick world. He set the rose gently into water in a crystal glass.

“Memory believes before knowing remembers.”

~ William Faulkner,  Light in August

Chapter One, Episode 62 - A Family Gathered - Situationally Theirs

July 07, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

After fixing one or two typos,  I again worked with dialogue, developing actions around the dialogue. This part of the writing exercise, like most of this little saga, was completely unexpected but enjoyable.

I did note one paragraph was in a smaller font than the rest. After struggling unsuccessfully to fix that problem on this blog site, I took it to my Pages program. All fonts are the same size now. It was a tough one and rather annoying to deal with.

A Family Gathered

“Good morning, Elizabeth. It is such a lovely day!”

“Oh, good morning, Martha. I didn’t hear you come in. I’m just getting the coffee ready. Have you had breakfast?” Cook already had frying pans out and the tea kettle on to boil. The big green tea pot stood stolidly on the counter. Cook had loose leaf tea from the pantry ready to be steeped. Coffee and tea both were always available for whomever came in for a meal or maybe just for a break.

“I have had a bite to eat but what’s on the menu and who’s pretty silver car is parked at the front? I saw it as I was coming up the drive." Martha had been surprised to see a car parked at the front of the house. Lately, anyone parked at the back. Even Miss Emelina seldom used the front door any more.

“Well, you’ll never guess. It’s someone we haven’t seen for a long time. And he stayed the night!” Cook knew that Martha would be pleased to see Dr. Crawford. He had been a favourite of all the staff. Never any of that grating Upstairs Downstairs attitude. 

“Oh, it’s a man…..Elizabeth, don’t keep me in suspense. Someone we haven’t seen for a long time?" Martha set her purse down on the table, wrinkled her forehead. Started to say a name.....Stopped....Smiled and said "An old friend of Mr. Michael’s..... It's Dr. Crawford isn't it?” 

Cook laughed out loud “Martha, you guessed it right off. He came from the hospital after he’d cleaned up because he remembered my cooking." Her smile faded when she said "And he wanted to see Miss Emelina and Mr. Michael."

"Oh my." Martha slowly took off her sweater. “Why, I thought he had left Hartley. He and Mr. Michael were so close and he wasn’t even at the funeral. Did you say he wanted to see Mr. Michael?" Picking up her purse, her sweater over her arm she walked slowly past Cook to her office.

Shaking her head slowly, Cook replied “He didn’t even know that our dear Mr. Michael had passed. Poor Dr. Crawford was still lost in his own grief about Mrs. Crawford passing a couple of years before. Remember when he stayed out here for while after she died. It was so sad to see him so through all that.”

“That is the last time anyone of us saw him.” Martha and Cook didn’t see or hear Jeremy come down the stairs two at a time in his stocking feet. He was about to start whistling when he heard the two women chatting away. He caught his name a couple of times so thought he’d better pay attention. He cleared his throat, obviously not loud enough to interrupt the intense conversation at the coffee machine. He hesitated, grinned and cleared his throat a little louder followed by: “Ahem. What are you two ladies gossiping about? Did I hear my name?”

The two women jumped. Cook almost spilled coffee beans all over the floor. “Oh, my heavens, Dr.Crawford. You haven’t changed a bit. Sneaking up on us like that. And listening to us talk about you while you stood there like a naughty school boy.”

“Martha, it is so good to see you.” Dr. Crawford had opened his arms for a hug. Martha put both hands up, stepped back and laughed. "Stop it, Dr. Jeremy. You are such a sight for sore eyes but no hugs for you today........."

Before Martha could say anything else, Cook chuckled and said “Go ahead Martha, tell him.”

Martha blushed and looked away. Jeremy poured himself some coffee and sat down at the long table. “Tell me what, Martha. This house is just full of surprises. Emelina has a sister with a very interesting name. I heard the story of how every one of you deserted her when you learned of the pandemic. She eats in the kitchen now with the lot of you. She would never set foot in the kitchen in the good old days. And she survived. Looks better than I’ve ever seen her before. But for you, sweet Martha, what is your secret?”

Cook turned heat down under the oatmeal, heated the teapot with boiling water and rinsed it all around. “Just like a man. Can’t see what’s right in front of his nose." Martha had put her left hand flat on the table, tapping the table lightly. "Go ahead, Martha, show him."

Like a young woman in love, Martha held out her left hand and wiggled her wrinkled fingers. Jeremy pretended not to notice, then squinted at Martha's hand. “What’s this I see sparkling just like the sparkle in your eyes? An engagement ring? Martha, what does your daughter think of this….and your grandkids?….Who’s the lucky man? It can’t be Digby, he’s bit of a stuffed shirt to be buying diamonds for his girl. Better not be Giles. He’s married and much too young  - I mean too immature - for you.”

“He’s missed it, hasn’t he?” Cook sounded like she’d won a bet, then looked towards the back door. "Who's that coming in now?" The back door had opened and shut firmly but quietly. James Edward Digby walked into the kitchen.

After a quick 'good morning all' James ordinarily went quickly to his office before coming out to get a mug of tea. But on this morning, he stopped in his tracks, hesitated and with surprise in his voice he said "Dr. Crawford! Where have you come from?"

“Good morning Digby! I came from upstairs - stayed here last night after Cook fed me and talked my ear off. I had wanted to see Mike and Emelina…..I had no idea that Mike wouldn’t be here. That was a sad bit of news. But I’ve been hearing all kinds of stories about the place and now I see Martha is engaged to be married!” Jeremy hesitated. He saw a tender look pass between Digby and Martha. “It’s you, Digby?" Jeremy was astounded. He got up, poured a second mug of coffee and set it on the table. "This is all too much to take in, especially when I’ve only been up for an hour." Jeremy grabbed the nearest chair and sat down with an exaggerated thump.

“Good morning everyone.” Emelina had run down the stairs, dressed and ready for the day. “My goodness, we’ve got quite a kitchen full. I’m glad to see everyone keeping their distance. Jerem, you're still working at the hospital and with patients with Covid19, so we have to be extra careful. Jeremy, maybe I’m a bit late with this question but should we be wearing masks?” Emelina had missed all the bantering that had gone on, but sensed the warmth of kitchen. 

Jeremy got all serious and professional for a few minutes “The public health officer, Dr. Henry has encouraged mask wearing in places where distancing can’t be maintained. This kitchen is pretty darn huge, and all of you are really good at keeping good spacing. "All seriousness aside and especially to change the subject, I’ve just learned that Martha and Digby are engaged to be married. I'm just speechless. And the last time I saw you, it was Upstairs this and Downstairs that. The Beauforts vs the staff. Digby was the only one we saw upstairs, unless Brigitte did some maid service at a get together. Where is Brigitte anyway? Don’t tell me she got married and left the country? Now look at all of you. Everyone in the kitchen like it had always been the most normal thing in the world.” 

Jeremy, despite all his brashness and teasing, was truly happy with the home he had come into. Emelina was like a different person, but a person he truly liked. He had always liked her, but she had an edge. A line that no one crossed. He guessed something or someone had softened that edge. “So, Mrs. Beaufort, when am I going to meet this sister of yours? I hope she’s not all high and mighty like you were.” 

Everyone, including James, burst out laughing. “What’s so funny? Makes perfect sense to me. The younger sister learns from the older sister. What’s her name again?”

Emelina recalled all the times when she tried to teach Dez how to be 'proper' - with extremely limited success. “ Her name is Desperanza. Dez, for short. She’s always hated that big long name. When you meet her you’ll understand that her big long name just doesn't suit her very much at all.”

Cook had been walking back and forth from her stove and cupboard to the cupboard by the table, carrying the porridge pot, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Martha, made toast and then set the table with plates, bowls, cutlery and napkins. “Breakfast’s on the table for those that want to eat it. If you want seconds, just bring your plate and I'll serve it for you. I’m the only one touches the serving dishes to keep everyone safe.” No one argued with Cook when she laid down rules along with the food.

They all sat at the long kitchen table. Occasionally, the silence of good food, a chair would scrape on the floor. The only other sounds were crunching toast, click of cutlery against plates, and ‘More, please.' Jeremy sat back in his chair and watched his new/old friends. He knew he would not be staying away for long unless duty called.

“My mother used to tell me that when push comes to shove, 

you always know who to turn to. That being 

a family isn’t a social construct but an instinct.

~ Jodi Picoult

Chapter One, Episode 61 - Truth Be Told - Situationally Theirs

July 06, 20202
Review, Edit and Update
My writing exercise continues. I have written in descriptive action to the dialogue for Cook, Emelina and Jeremy (Dr. Crawford). When I read this piece with before doing so, the dialogue was like a skeleton structure. 

I'm in a bit of a hurry this morning, so I do hope I haven't missed anything!

Truth Be Told

A second piece of Cook’s lemon meringue pie and another pot of tea later, Emelina and Jeremy, her long time friend, were still talking. Cook had finished tidying up the kitchen with all the pots, pans and dishes into the industrial dishwasher.

“Come, Cook. Get your own piece of pie and a cup of tea and join us.” Emelina indicated a seat well spaced away but still in the conversation. “Jeremy, you are looking rather ragged. Are they running you off your feet at the hospital?”

“Yes, they sure are. There are many days we hit the ground running as soon as we get to the OR. It’s a good thing we’ve got a locker room and fresh scrubs every day. There are so many hospitals that don’t have the luxury. I’ve showered so much in the last two months it’s lucky I still have any skin left.”

“When do you eat? And what do you eat?” Emelina causally poked her words at Jeremy, hiding her genuine concern.

“Whatever’s there……..and now I have a confession to make.” Jeremy put his head down and looked out the kitchen door before continuing. “Tonight, when I got home and after washing my hands one more time, I looked in a very uninteresting refrigerator. Tired, hungry and an empty apartment is not a good combination.” Jeremy got a far away look in his eyes as he thought of Elaine.

“So what is your confession?” Her concern was heightened but she never had known when Jeremy was being serious or just pulling her leg.

Suddenly animated and grinning, Jeremy spilled out his confession. “Well, I thought of Cook’s delicious meals and decided to come out here and crash Cook’s kitchen. And I wanted to see you and Mike. So very sad that he’s not here, but I’m not sure he’d want to be in the midst of all of this mess.”

Cook spoke up in the awkward silence that followed. “Well of course you thought of my cooking, and it’s high time you did too. Look at you. All skin and bones.” Cook poured herself a bit more tea. “You best be coming out here more often. Don’t you think so, Miss Emelina?”

“Well maybe, but don’t push Cook. This is the first time we’ve seen him in over five years. But I do think it had better be more frequently than five years, Jeremy.”

“You seem to have changed somehow, Emelina” Jeremy had been puzzled at the easy flow of conversation between her and Cook. “There was a time when eating down here was a real no no for you. You were a bit high and mighty in those days. That is until we got you away from here and all that Upstairs - Downstairs nonsense that Mike’s mom pushed on all of us. That’s when you loosened up and had a bit more fun.”

“Jeremy, I have my own confession to make.” Emelina glanced over at Cook with a tiny smile.

Cook knew what was coming. Her tea halfway to her mouth, she just about spilled it. Setting it down and laughing she said “Please Miss Emelina, don’t you be telling on us.” 

“Telling on ‘us’. Who’s us, Cook?” Jeremy was confused. 

 “It was all of us - Dibgy, Martha, Brigitte and it would have been Giles too if he’d been here at the time. That one day, Digby came roaring out of his office, at least as much as Digby could do - I’ve never seen him is such a panic. Saying something about a - what’s it called - pandemic, he had some other fancy name for it - and how we all need to be at home and 'isolate'. He gave us all pens and big orange sticky note pads. He told us to write down instructions for Mrs. Beaufort so she could run the house without us. I don’t even remember if we put all our phone numbers somewhere. And then we all left. We just left. And there was poor Mrs. Beaufort left high and dry without even knowing it. We left after she had gone to bed so she woke up in the morning not knowing anything would be different. But there was no tea, no coffee, no one to help her get up and get dressed………” Cook worked herself up so much, the smile fell from her face 'til she was almost crying.

“Cook, stop.” Emelina’s voice was gentle. “you all did what you needed to do. And look how well it all turned out. I found my sister the next night - that’s another story, Jeremy - and we’re all back together again. Now you’re calling me Miss Emelina and I’m not being such an uppity, difficult employer. Jeremy, the only reason I go upstairs anymore is to go into my room for a change of clothes or to go to bed.”

Jeremy had seen life and death drama at work. But this was different, almost amusing. As he listened to this domestic drama, his jaw grew slacker all the time. “Just hold it you two. Emelina, you have a sister? Where did she come from? You have never talked about family before. In fact, if any of us asked about your family, you would change the subject or have to leave the room. Anything to not talk about family.”

“See” Emelina and Cook both grinned. “You do have to come out for supper more often so you can hear what’s been going on out here since this pandemic knocked us all off of our feet. And by the way, my sister’s name is Desperanza. She is two years younger than me. That’s all I’ll tell you right now.”

“Wow! I don’t know what to say except that I’d better get on the road. I’m on a late shift tomorrow, but want to get to bed and have a good sleep. Although, after what you’ve just told me I may never sleep again!” Jeremy would have liked to hear more but his tired body was telling him it would have to wait.

“Miss Emelina?” Cook leaned sideways to Emelina, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“What is it Cook? Why are you whispering?” Emelina looked surprised at Cook's sudden change.

Her whisper a little louder, speaking a little slower to be certain the Miss would hear her, Cook continued “Let him sleep in your old room. There’s the shower in there. Brigitte keeps the bed made up and the room cleaned. That way he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Hartley.”

“Good idea, Cook……” Emelina whispered her reply to Cook, sat up straight and turned to Jeremy. In normal volume, she asked

"Jeremy, what are you looking for?" Jeremy, ignoring them and their whispered exchange, was patting all his pockets.

“Just my keys. It was so good to see you both." Jeremy stood up from the table. "Good food and good company. Can’t ask for more than that. What is it, Emelina? You look like you want to say something.” He stopped his search when he saw that Emelina was about to tell him something more.

“This was completely not my idea, so don't you get any ideas. This invitation was Cook’s idea and I agree with it. Sleep here tonight. I don’t sleep in the room Mike and I shared anymore. I still have a couple of pair of Mike’s pyjamas - that’s if you want to wear them. You sleep here tonight, there’s an ensuite bathroom so you have a shower at your disposal. You'll get Cook’s coffee in the morning. It's a great as her pie. It will be a good break for you, Jeremy. Please stay.” Emelina had her most pleading look on her face. 

Jeremy actually looked relieved. “Say no more, ladies. I wouldn’t argue with both of you. Just this once though. Only because I’m exhausted and not looking forward to driving in to that empty apartment.” He sat down and poured himself more tea.

Cook and Emelina exchanged triumphant looks. 

It was Cook's turn to stand up from the table. Her purse and light jacket in the pantry, she talked as she walked across the kitchen. “I best be going, Miss, especially if I need to be back here first thing in the morning to get the coffee going. I think maybe Martha will be in tomorrow morning, too. Good night to you both.”

“If you do not tell the truth about yourself 

you cannot tell it about other people.”

~ Virginia Woolf