Every day, Master Smythee requests for me to go to his house after my personal chores are done. The Elders try to prevent it by saying I have my own destiny-household to care for, but Master Smythee forces their arm by telling them in church and in front of the whole congregation that the Great Master revealed to him that I was to help heal his wife. The Elders know that if they question him, then we will start questioning our Masters. Master Smythee has outfoxed the Elders. I worry about how long this will last or what the Elders will do in retaliation. Apparently, Master Smythee doesn't care. All he seems to care about is that Beatrix is getting a little better each day.
He says he appreciates how I take care of Beatrix. Between Jana and me we make sure all her needs are met. He won't let a doctor near her for fear they'll do something to kill her. This is such an odd situation that I try not to think about it. I just try to help.
As I'm walking to the Smythee household one day, Miguelito catches up to me. He wears his traditional happy grin.
"H-h-hi, Monica."
"How are you doing?" I greet back.
"I-I-I h-h-hear you s-s-saved Beatrix's l-l-life."
"I wouldn't say that. I just helped."
"You-you-you're awesome, Monica."
"Thank you."
"I-I-I hope you d-d-don't take this w-w-wrong, but I love you."
I smile at him. His innocent eyes stare at me. "I love you too, Miguelito. You're my pal."
He gushes back. "Ye-ye-yes, I'm your p-p-pal."
I reach the Smythee household with a warm feeling inside of me. The word love isn't much used here except when the Mister tells me he loves me, but I know that it's a twisted obsession and not actually love. Sweet Miguelito. How can you not love him and his purity?
"It's about time you got here," growls Betsey as she opens the door for me.
In the short amount of time I had been there, I had realized that she was worse than Helga and Stacy put together. I really felt it for Jana when she'd have to fully join this family.
"I need you to clean my room," she snaps.
"I thought I was here to help with Beatrix."
"You do as I tell you to do!"
"What's all the noise here?" asks Master Smythee, entering the living room.
"Nothing, Master Smythee," mumbles Betsey.
"Hello, Monica," he greets, smiling at me.
"Hi, Master Smythee."
"I'm glad you're here. Could you stop by the kitchen and get three bowls of soup that Jana made earlier? They'll be for Beatrix, me, and you too."
Since I had been coming here, I had been fed every time. Master Smythee was generous with Jana and me. Betsey hates this and twists her face.
"Master Smythee, it's not a good idea to give her food."
"Why not?" he snaps.
"It's not good for her to get used to your generosity. Master Barstowe might not like it. She needs to learn that coming here is work, and she shouldn't be babied. That's why I asked her to clean my room before going to Beatrix."
"You asked her what?" he roars.
"I was only--"
"I'm so sick of you!!! Never, ever tell anyone in my household what to do!"
Her face drains of all color, and her eyes are about to burst with tears.
"I'm so sick of you!!! Get out of my face!! Get out now!"
She scurries away with a frightened look on her face.
"Sorry about her," he tells me, between his teeth. "I never wanted her! The Elders forced her on me."
"Why did they do that?" I ask with curiosity.
"They thought I was soft--maybe I am but why is that bad? They thought she'd put the order in my household that they claim is lacking. I just could never get the hang of the discipline club."
I smile at him. Each day that I spend with him, I like him more. I really wish that he'd be my destiny-husband instead of the Mister. I'm happy for Jana, though.
After I take the bowls to Beatrix's bedroom, Master Smythee insists on feeding her. She's still very weak and groggy but he does well getting the soup into her mouth with the spoon. Since I still don't know how to maneuver those utensils, I drink my soup. For other types of food, Master Smythee has allowed me to eat with my fingers instead of having to stick my mouth in the sustenance.
"She's getting so much better," he murmurs happily.
Beatrix's color is returning, and she recognizes us when we're near her. She speaks in short words before her exhaustion knocks her out, but she speaks them.
"Thank you so much for everything, Monica," he tells me.
This is the first time since I've been in Paradise Village that I feel a part of something important, and I just can't get over a Master treating me like an equal.
When I arrive at the slave quarters that night, Helga is waiting for me with a slimy smirk written all over her face. I try to ignore it as I go past her.
"You're so happy with yourself," she snickers as she follows me to my bunk.
"What are you talking about?"
"You think you've such a hot shot with what you're doing at the Smythee household."
"I've never considered myself a hot shot."
"I wouldn't be so thrilled if I were you."
"Helga, I'm tired. I need to get to bed."
"The Elders will never allow for Master Smythee's rebellion."
"Rebellion?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
As I've said before, Helga is vicious but she's no dummy.
"Good night, Helga."
During the morning chores, a vociferous sound rattles the shack. All of us immediately stop what we're doing and stare at each other with horrified expressions.