a friendly face

Who: Janey and Ramona
Where: St. Peter's Cathedral
When: Early evening

For all the deterioration and ruin the place had endured over the city's history, Ramona still loved the church. From the sweeping silence that always hit her when she entered, even when there were people inside, to the seemingly endless amounts of detail that still lurked in stained glass, frescoes, and stonework, she loved it here. She just wished that she could do more to help it. Granted, she made sure her father gave a generous tithing for her to bring in his place every Sunday, since Don Bartelucci hadn't set foot here in years. And on her odd night-time visits here, Ramona loved to find ways to help however she could, she just wished she had time for more.

Guiding children through the beads of the rosary was rewarding, sure, but it didn't stop the place from falling down. Neither did the odd times when she could sit and speak of religious history with the sisters or priests. But she was here anyway, twice a week at least, always taking the time to pray for her mother's soul. Which was where Ramona was at that very moment, kneeling on a short bench set in front of banks of prayer candles. She'd tucked a donation in, lit a taper, and said a prayer for each of the candles she caught with the flame. Done with her last prayer, Ramona rose from the candles and stepped back into the rows of pews with a mindful glance to her driver where he lingered inside, always watching her when she came here. As if something bad might happen here. As if she had anything in mind other than checking up on the other regular patrons she saw here every Sunday.

Janey had taken a cab to St. Peter's that evening, despite how much she wanted to take advantage of the decent weather. She was sick of being cooped up inside, which was all she had been since returning home. Aside from her trip to the village with Danny, she'd stayed at home, intermittently sleeping and reading from the books Shoshannah had brought her. The doctors had sent her home with some pain medication at a low dose, and although she'd tried the first night without it, she wasn't ready for that yet. However, it made her drowsy, so she could only make it about 50 pages at a time, if that, before she fell asleep. But she was especially enjoying the first novel she'd chosen from the stack, Jane Eyre. She could relate to Jane in a way, to the strong affection and connection she felt to Mr. Rochester--her need for him. How she could be both independent and very reliant on him at the same time. And of course they shared a name, but that was secondary. Janey couldn't get enough of the novel, but it still didn't make being homebound her cup of tea. She still wanted to get out, especially after days in the dreary hospital.

When she'd mentioned to Danny that morning that she wanted to go to the cathedral, he'd seemed concerned, but she had assured him she would take a cab, in case she were to be overcome by weakness or exhaustion, so that was what she had done. She hobbled slowly up towards her customary pew, eying the sparsity of the other patrons as she did so. There was a young girl she recognized, Don Bartelucci's daughter. She never saw the girl anywhere but the church--not meaning that she was so devout she was always there but that, it seemed, she wasn't allowed to go many other places. Even to the soup kitchen, which Janey suspected might be something she'd enjoy, that sort of work, if she'd been allowed to do it. She made a mental note to invite her sometime.

The sound of the hobble was what caught Ramona's attention. The church was never packed, but at this hour it was nearly empty aside from parishioners on their own business and maybe a few vagrants getting aimed at the soup kitchen, so it was largely quiet. Which she usually enjoyed, but this time? The quiet accentuated the off-tempo of Janey's steps, drawing Ramona's gaze over to her. Mrs. McKinnon, that was her name. Ramona hadn't heard about the accident, didn't know who Janey was married to, and in fact lacked ALL the details that might've informed her to make a better decision at the moment. What she did know was that she was in a special place, and another member of the congregation looked somewhat pained. "Mrs. McKinnon?" Ramona called as she started up a side aisle to intercept Janey, "Are you alright? Can I be of any help?"

The sound of her name being called out startled Janey. Under the cathedral's vaulted ceilings and between the vastness of its walls, the girl's voice echoed, so that even if she had been anticipating it, the volume still would have surprised her. She had been trying to remember the girl's name as she made her way slowly towards her pew. Rachel...Romelda..."I'm okay, thanks...Ramona," she replied, the name coming to her at the very last second. "I know I look like I'm about to fall over, but I'm used to walking this way by now," Janey added. She had to keep her trunk stiff to keep her ribs from aching, and this meant walking slowly, heavily, and carefully.

"By now?" Ramona echoed in vague confusion, stopping her progress to help Janey all the same. She'd been raised to say what she meant, and assumed most people just did likewise, so if Janey said she was alright? Then she was. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mrs. McKinnon," she explained, always formal around an adult, "Your posture and gait suggest a recent injury to the pelvis, and likely the spine as well. When did this occur?" Obviously far enough back that Janey had adapted to it, but how far back? Ramona wasn't always the best at noticing if someone was missing from the congregation on a Sunday, and she rarely got time to linger after services before her escort whisked her away.

Janey felt a small smile creep across her face. She'd only spoken to Ramona a few times, but she'd always found the girl's elevated and formal style of speech fascinating. "I guess it was only a week ago," she admitted, "but it feels like it's been a lot longer than that. I was in an accident, and I just got out of the hospital yesterday. I've got a few broken ribs though...among other things," she added, wincing.

That drew a frown of concern from Ramona. She may have turned a blind or uncaring eye to what happened when people displeased her father, but here? In God's house? None of the faithful deserved to suffer, if only because there were so few of them left in the city. "You shouldn't be putting too much strain on your body, then," Ramona insisted, gesturing for Janey to move ahead of her. The sooner she was seated, the better. "We are a peculiarly fragile species, and while recuperative wonders happen every day and medical science is always advancing, there are pronounced limits we must observe," she said, almost lecturing but more like she might have been expecting an instructor to be listening in, waiting to correct her. "Would you care to sit for a moment?"

They were still a few rows behind her pew, but Janey decided that was okay. Ramona seemed so determined, good-naturedly, to help out. "Well, okay. But don't worry, I didn't walk here, so this is probably the most I've been on my feet today." She slid awkwardly into the pew, trying not to turn her body too abruptly, and sat down.

It was an accurate assessment, given how hellbent Ramona felt about trying to involve herself with other people after her talk with Quentin. If only he'd known how single-minded she could be in her pursuits. "What sort of accident, if I'm not overstepping?" she asked Janey in a softer tone, "And where is your husband while you're recuperating?"

"I was hit by a car," Janey said. Though it was rather blunt, there was no point in beating around the bush or softening the truth, especially with someone like Ramona. The girl was straightforward, very bright and inquisitive, and Janey knew she would have wanted the truth. She scooted further down the bench, hoping Ramona would take the hint and sit down beside her. "As for Danny, he's at the station, working. He's taken far more time off than he probably should have, what with his injury and then mine, and they have been quite generous." Then again, with the death of the Commisioner, Janey wasn't sure who "they" even was; who was in charge at this point in time.

Certainly most people would've looked shocked over the news of Janey's accident, but Ramona? Well, her expression barely flickered, just subtle changes as she took that in. "I'm very sorry to hear that, but I'm glad you're on the mend," she offered with a slight nod, slipping into the pew next to Janey. "Yes, I remember reading of his part in the police effort in the newspaper," Ramona went on, leaving out the memory of just how outraged her father had been that day. "But I hope he is able to come back soon, moral support is just as crucial as physical," or so she was told, "Which, I believe, makes this a good destination for you if he must be at work. " It was a center of spiritual support, after all, and even if Ramona hadn't missed Janey's absence? Surely other members of the church must have.

"I suppose it does," Janey conceded, "but don't expect to see him here much. Danny's not really much of a churchgoer." That was the truth. As much a she tried and as much as she wanted him to be, he just wasn't. And despite the changes she'd seen developing in him the previous afternoon, that was still one thing she didn't anticipate changing any time soon.

"Neither is a great deal of my family," Ramona said agreeably, "My father makes the token efforts on holidays, and always ensures I can donate in his name, but none of my siblings share even that small amount of interest." Which disappointed her, clearly, and often confused her as well. The religion she shared with Janey was a beautiful, storied thing that had momentous highs and lows so tragic that it made the Greeks seem like crybabies, but her family just didn't care. It didn't matter how faith could move people or inspire them, and that was what often confused Ramona. If none of them gave any interest, why had she been pushed so hard to learn everything? "But I pray for them every time I visit," she eventually continued, "Them, those less fortunate than myself, and those who would help. I'll pray for your good health as well, Mrs. McKinnon."

"Thank you. I didn't know you had any siblings," Janey replied. She didn't know much about the Bartelucci family, but she'd always assumed Ramona was an only child, because she never saw anyone with her at the church. That would also explain, in Janey's opinion, her father's extreme overprotectiveness. "That's too bad, though, that they're so different from you. Are you the youngest?"

This was something of a thin line to walk, given Ramona's father's displeasure for talking about their family in too much detail. But what harm could come from simple details like this? It seemed like this was how research would happen in a social environment; give some details, get some in kind. Already, Ramona had learned about Janey's husband and her accident, not to mention her character itself. "No, I have two younger brothers. Half-brothers, I suppose, but family is family, yes?" she asked rhetorically. "But beyond them, yes, I am the youngest daughter in our family."

Janey wondered if that meant she was also the only daughter and the oldest child, or if there were others above them she hadn't mentioned. But because Ramona didn't seem forthcoming with that information, Janey decided she wouldn't press. At least, not explicitly. "I was the youngest and daughter, too. My older brothers were extremely protective of me," she said.

"What was that like?" Ramona asked curiously, eyes lighting up over the prospect of unfamiliar experiences, particularly ones involving family dynamics. She knew she was the odd one in her family, but her father's doting attention made up for it. "My older brothers often forget that I'm even in the house, though it's understandable with how much space there is," she quickly amended, "And of course they're very busy, they work in my father's business."

"Well, it was nothing like that for me. First off, space was a foreign concept. There were six of us kids, five brothers plus my parents, in a house I'm sure was much smaller than yours." Janey did not say this unkindly, as if judging Ramona or envying her family, but simply matter-of-factly. It was strange to be discussing her childhood, though. Even if the situation had profoundly shaped her, she didn't think about it very much. Hardly ever, really. "I guess I had my brothers to take care of everything for me, which meant I didn't do much for myself. Even just talking," she said with a shrug. "My mother was worried that I didn't speak until I was almost three years old, but I never needed to, and if I wanted to there was never a quiet moment to try," she chuckled.

Ramon smiled evenly at the story, trying to picture it in her head and vaguely succeeding. It was entirely alien to her; living in a house that Janey made sound smaller than the servants' housing on her father's property, being so wrapped up in the lives of everyone around you, even having them provide for you directly. Yes, Ramona had never been alone, but it had always been servants and tutors for her with the only contact with her kin was dinner with most of the family each night. And even the teachers, the maids, the tailors, they'd all been removed emotionally for fear of any of them coloring Don Bartelucci's prized baby girl. There had been one or two doting maids, but Ramona had been encouraged not to get too fond of them, and they'd never stayed long after those warnings.

"It sounds very cloistered," she offered after a moment, lips pursing in consideration of what to say. It was polite to have some comment to offer, right? "But you're free enough with the memory that I would assume it was not an unhappy childhood?" Ramona asked after a moment, "I know the current economy can make it difficult to sustain a family, and factoring in how long ago you would've been a child..." She trailed off, brow lining in thought as Ramona tried to approximate Janey's age. "No, supporting that many children couldn't have been easy. You're blessed to have come from such a family, Mrs. McKinnon," she asserted with a more confident smile. "I have eight siblings, actually," Ramona added, finding common ground somewhere in there and priding herself on it. "Our ages vary greatly, though. My father is nothing if not persistent."

"Oh no, I had a very happy childhood," Janey agreed quickly. "But what about you?" Although she was hesitant to ask, she wondered where Ramona's mother had been in the picture. All this talk of a father, but not a word about the other half of the equation. Which was a little sad. It sounded as though Ramona had no one in the family she was close to, the way family should be. The way Janey and her brothers had been, a concept that seemed foreign to the girl.

Ramona smiled easily enough at the question, not quite considering it the way Janey was asking. "I've been very fortunate with my upbringing," she answered, "I'm told I am gifted, and my father's finances have allowed him to encourage that. I've never been unable to pursue an interest I had." Which, to Ramona, was the same as being happy. She'd never experienced a tight-knit family dynamic first-hand, so she genuinely didn't know what she was missing. "It would be nice to have more time for each other, as your brothers did for you, but at least I have their blessings to help with the church however I can." Within limits, of course. Always within limits, as if Ramona might seek to test them.

"What are your interests, aside from helping out around here?" Janey inquired. That Ramona was gifted, intellectually, showed quite clearly through her inquisitiveness and articulateness, as Janey had seen in the past. But she wondered where Ramona directed all of that curiosity and energy.

This was the sort of situation Ramona had been raised for; the sum of the investment, really. She'd been raised with a razor-sharp focus on being presentable, someone people could find endearing. "I play violin, speak two languages other than English, and am partway into post-graduate chemistry work with private tutors," she shared with a polite smile that didn't suggest she found any of it as boggling as it should have been coming from a seventeen year old girl. "I'm also working on my degree in theology, but that's a year or two away still. And... my father says I'm very good at chess," she added with a slightly embarassed turn to her grin.

Janey nearly laughed, but suddenly remembered where they were and checked herself to a quiet chuckle. At least the pews in their general vicinity were unoccupied, so their quiet conversation couldn't have been disrupting too many people. "Well, that's what you do, then. But what do you enjoy? Or, which of those do you enjoy the most?"

The question didn't make a lot of sense to Ramona, because what she did and what she enjoyed were synonymous. All of her interests were specifically things she could keep learning and benefit from, not actual hobbies, and nothing she'd picked on her own. "My chemistry, I would say," she decided after a moments consideration, "It's very ordered, but with no end in sight as to the possibilities. And the more I learn about it, the more insight I can gain on a great deal of mundane things in everyday life."

"I suppose it is the basis of everything. Science in general," Janey observed. "But I was never very good at any of that. Too complicated for me." From beyond the walls of the cathedral, Janey heard a car horn sound, and it reminded her that she had a cab waiting outside. Though she was enjoying talking to the girl, she supposed she should do her prayers and head home, but she wasn't sure how to say this politely. She fumbled in her pocket, trying to make it a casual motion, and drew out her rosary to hold it in her lap.

Ramona would've been quite happy to kneel with Janey and say a few more prayers of her own, but for the soft click of hard-toed shoes approaching her. She glanced over her shoulder with the sound, lips pursing thin at the sight of her driver approaching to wait a respectable distance from the pew. "Ms. Ramona, your father expects you for dinner in half an hour," he said curtly, waiting impassively as Ramona sighed and started to distance herself from Janey. "I'm sorry Mrs. McKinnon, but I must go. It was very nice speaking with you, though, and I'll pray for good health to return to you soon," she said as she finally stood, taking her coat from her driver and waiting patiently. Manners dictated that she stay put, after all.

"It was lovely to see you," Janey replied with a smile. "I'll keep you in my prayers as well. Good luck with your studies." It seemed a fitting response, considering how focused the girl was on academics. As Ramona walked away, Janey bowed her head, the words to the 'Hail Mary' already rolling softly off her lips.