Ellen Under The Stairs by John Stockmyer Read Free Book Online

Hoped Ellen and Paul wouldn't notice in the
semi-dark room.
    Ellen was nodding. A hint of smile on
her lips that John hoped was sympathy.
    With a quick move to end his
embarrassment, John excused himself to go up stairs.
    And there she was on the bed, Platinia
seeming not to have twitched since he'd left her to let in Paul and
Ellen.
    "I want you to meet these people,"
John said, Platinia still as stiff as a cadaver, legs together,
arms rigidly at her sides. Lying there in the colorful blouse and
pair of jeans he'd brought her, she looked like a sulky twelve year
old. "Friends of mine. Only two of them. A man and his
wife."
    "A ... woman?" Platinia turned her
head to look up at John.
    "Ellen. That's her name. You'll like
her. She's here to give me some advice about what clothes to buy
for you. What you might like to eat."
    And finally, responding like she did
to direct commands, slowly, as if he'd used a whip to break her
will, Platinia struggled to sit up; made it; her arms trembling
with the effort. Weak, but also playing the martyr.
    John felt sorry for her, though. Sorry
she was suffering so much from what, to her, must seem to be
crushing gravity. Sorry, because she was pathetic
Platinia.
    Relenting, John walked over to the bed
to take her hands, to help her stand.
    Arm around Platinia's waist, he
supported her down the single flight of stairs, then into the
living room.
    Ignoring the Hamiltons for the moment,
John scooted up one of the big chairs and backed Platinia into it,
helping her to settle herself, Platinia drawing up her child's legs
beside her.
    In silence, John crossed to sit in his
own chair.
    "Hello," Ellen said softly, trying to
avoid staring at the frightened girl, but managing to get a good
look at her all the same.
    Paul just ... sat. Though he'd been
convinced before that John had been to Stil-de-grain, seeing this
strange girl had stunned him. You didn't brush Platinia aside like
hand-woven cloth, something too undeniable ... alien ... about
her.
    "This is Ellen," John said, indicating
Paul's wife. "And Paul."
    Platinia sat, arms wrapped around her
legs, knees pulled to her chest.
    Ellen took a breath. Held it. Then
continued. "If you could have anything you wanted, what would you
like?"
    She doesn't speak much English," John
put in. "And there's no magic ...."
    "Home."
    "You want to go home," Ellen repeated,
getting a barely perceptible nod from the small girl.
    "So?" Ellen was looking at
John.
    "That's the plan as far as I'm
concerned. Unfortunately, we were run out of Stil-de-grain. So it's
best to let the other world cool off a bit. Maybe a week." John
held up his hand as Paul was about to protest. "I have no intention
of going back for any length of time. But I just can't charge up
Platinia and push her under the stairs. It's a matter of ... honor,
if you like. Like taking the same girl home you've invited to the
prom.
    "Seriously, I want to make sure its
safe to leave Platinia in Hero castle." He hurried on. "I don't see
that as a problem. Just to go back with her. Get in. Get
out."
    "About clothing for Platinia, I could
do a little shopping," Ellen volunteered. "I'd like that. I've
never gotten to shop for an older girl. It'd be fun."
    "That great!"
    "Look," Ellen put in softly,
pointing.
    Platinia.
    Asleep in the great chair. Tousled
hair above her pretty-child face.
    "I know," John whispered
sympathetically. "Imagine how tired she gets. Weighted down as she
must feel."
    "Though it'll be a stretch," said
pregnant Ellen, dryly, "I'll do my best to imagine how 'weighted
down' she feels."
     
    * * * * *
     
Chapter 7
     
    Home from school, the first thing John
did was call, "Platinia?"
    He took off his coat, hanging it on a
wall hook in the short entrance way. Draped his scarf over the same
hook. "Platinia?"
    Probably upstairs. Asleep.
    Climbing to second, a quick peek in
his bedroom showed him she wasn't asleep on the bed.
    He crossed the hall to assure himself
she wasn't in the spare bedroom --