Priscilla sat through the three hour car ride soaked in dread, contemplating her fate uneasily until the car pulled up in front of what looked to be a rather spacious plantation home. At least she wouldn't have to spend two weeks in a shoebox. This however confirmed her suspicion that they were dealing with a country singer.
She was hit by a wave of relief when the only person she spotted was a man. Though that relief quickly dissipated when she decided that said man did not look even remotely trustworthy. He did not appear to be taller than Priscilla, though her beehive did cause her to appear several inches taller than she was. His hair was dirty blonde and cut short, his eyes blue and narrow. His nose reminded her of a pigs snout. She could see a slight gut beginning to grow above his belt, complete with a large buckle. Priscilla could almost picture the wife and it wasn't pretty to say the least. The man stayed back as the driver began to unload Priscilla's luggage, scrutinizing her in a way that made her skin crawl.
He proceeded to approach with the swagger of a television cowboy.
"Well hi," he said, "I'm Mooney."
Priscilla cringed at the layer of dirt under his fingernails but forced herself to shake his hand. It was callused and sticky, making her fight the urge to run inside and wash her hand that instant.
"I'm Priscilla Beaulieu," she choked out, wishing that she could have said Presley instead.
"Priscilla." She loathed the way he said it. He was one to talk, given that he had introduced himself as Mooney.
"What did you say your last name was?" Priscilla asked.
"I didn't."
Priscilla hardly noticed the driver bustling back and forth to carry her luggage into the house for she had spotted heads ranging from sunflower blonde to the darkest of browns staring out of one of the windows. Her stomach dropped at the sight, because the two she was required to care for at home were already too much for her on most days. She could only hope that these children were better behaved than Roxanne and Little Elvis.
"Are those...would they...your kids?" Priscilla stuttered, pointing toward the window.
A wide grin spread over Mooney's face. His beady eyes twinkled, as though he was greatly enjoying her discomfort. "No ma'am. We just borrowed all of em. None of them is ours." He began to walk toward the door, turning again when he noticed that Priscilla wasn't following. "Well come on in so I can show you round and all that."
Priscilla followed him on unsteady legs, swallowing hard when she found all six of the children waiting for them. Still struggling with the reality of this situation, Priscilla temporarily found herself unable to speak. The children remained silent as well, six pairs of eyes scrutinizing her in a way that made her want to run for the hills.
The oldest looked maybe about as old as she had been when she met Elvis, with dark hair and blue eyes. She couldn't tell which one of the two boys was older, but one had brown hair while the other was blonde. It was hard to estimate the age of the blonde girl shoved in between the boys, but Priscilla assumed that she was rather young by the way she whimpered when the brown haired boy pinched her. The two youngest children, who appeared to be identical twins, couldn't have been much older than little Elvis. She couldn't see even the slightest difference in appearance between them. To make matters worse, they also wore the same outfit and had their hair done the same way, in a little ponytail.
"Kids," Mooney's voice rumbled. "Meet..." He gestured at Priscilla to fill in the blanks, as though he hadn't heard her name mere moments ago.
"Priscilla," she forced out.
"Priscilla," Mooney repeated. "Your mother for the next two weeks. Say hi."
"Uh-uh," one of the twins mumbled, forefinger frozen in her mouth as she stared up at Priscilla as though she was facing the boogie man. A few of the older children mumbled a hello, which was returned by Priscilla.
"So what are your names?" Priscilla asked.
"Betty, Jack, Ernest, Cissie, Peggy and Patsy," Mooney rattled off.
Priscilla assumed that he had listed them beginning with the oldest and finishing off with the youngest, but she still did not grasp who was who.
"So you're Betty?" Priscilla tried, pointing out the oldest girl.
"Yep."
"Her real name's Betty Sue," the brown haired boy said in a sing song voice.
"Don't you call me Betty Sue," the girl said. "Betty Sue is a cow name."
"Yeah, so it's perfect for you," the boy teased.
Priscilla couldn't help but sympathize with Betty Sue. She was inclined to agree with the assertion she had made about her name. The fact that the girl spoke with a northern accent rather than the southern twang the boy seemed to possess did not help matters in the slightest.
"I'll call you Betty," Priscilla assured her. "So you're..." She turned toward the brown haired boy.
"Jack," he said.
"Ernest Ray," Mooney thundered. "That's Ernest. Don't you listen to him. You gotta watch out for that one. For both those boys. Twins, with me. The rest of you can show Priscilla were she's gonna sleep."
Next thing Priscilla knew, the twins and Mooney were gone and she was left with a brute of teenagers who could have devoured her alive if they desired to.
"It's upstairs," Betty said. They made their ascent, the staircase creaking underneath their feet. When compared to Graceland, this mansion looked downright abandoned. It appeared as though they hadn't been there for too long and a lot of work needed to be done to get the place to what she considered inhabitable.
"What did you say your name was again?" Priscilla inquired of the second oldest girl.
"Cissie."
"Is that...what exactly is that short for?"
"Clara."
That was quite a stretch, according to Priscilla anyway, but she refrained from saying anything. "And what about your father's name? Mooney?"
"That's short for Moonshine."
"Wait, what?"
"Here." Betty threw open the door to a room.
"My mama put all the wallpaper on with Gloria to make it nice," Cissie said.
"Who is Gloria?"
"She's our housekeeper."
Priscilla suddenly felt less burdened upon hearing those glorious words. At least she was not destined to spend the next two weeks trying to cook and clean for Mooney and all these children. Her dread over this however did not diminish as much as she would have liked it to.
The room looked better than she had expected. The closet door was open and it looked as though some space had been cleared for Priscilla's things. Priscilla unzipped her first suitcase, which contained her make up, hair care articles and underwear.
"Can I have some privacy, please?" Priscilla requested, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Here?" Betty asked. "No."
"She don't wanna unpack her underwear in front of us," Ernest said, a beam stretching his mouth wide when he managed to elicit a gasp from Priscilla, who silently cursed herself for essentially painting a target on her back.
"She's Mama's age," Jack argued.
"Nah, I don't think she's Mama's age," Ernest shot back.
"How old are your kids?" Cissie asked.
By now, Priscilla's head was spinning but she managed to say, "I don't have any children."
"So it's just my mama and your man there?"
"Elvis has two but I don't have any of my own. Now please..."
"Elvis?" Betty burst out. "That Elvis? The one at Graceland?"
"Yes," Priscilla said in a falsely fine tone.
"The papers say you're livin' in sin," Ernest pointed out before plopping down on the freshly made bed.
"Get up!" Priscilla demanded, unable to hide her outrage.
"Mama said to be good," Cissie reminded him, but Ernest only stuck his tongue out at her before standing up. Priscilla felt the urge to tear the sheets off the bed.
"You're not really with Elvis," Betty said.
"Yes. Yes, I am. Now if you don't mind will you just let me unpack?"
Jack and Cissie scurried away first, while Betty and Ernest remained where they were.
"Come on, you idiot," Betty said to Ernest.
"Can't wait till you get married so you'll finally leave," Ernest muttered to himself, although he followed her. Once the door fell shut behind them (it squeaked hideously) Priscilla forced herself to take several breaths in succession to try and calm herself. There was this feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't name it, but wasn't quite dread, though that was surely intermixed with it.
And she still didn't know who their mother was. If she was anyone of any status, which was doubtful considering that she was married to Mooney.
~*~
Loretta had gone through all the possible scenarios in her head- and none of them involved pulling up in front of Graceland mansion. She might still be on the ignorant side in a sense, but she knew very well who Elvis Presley was. Somehow she just hadn't considered that the other person might be a celebrity themselves- not that she thought of herself as a celebrity or treated them any different than she did regular folks.
"Tell me this ain't what I think it is," Loretta said, addressing the driver, a sweet southern man named Vernon who appeared to be in his early fifties.
Vernon chuckled. "You're gonna be spendin' the next two weeks with my boy Elvis."
"Well, I'll be...they got two kids, don't they?"
Vernon hesitated before saying, "It's complicated business, sugar. I'm sure you're gonna get on."
There were several cars parked in front of Graceland mansion already. Vernon maneuvered the vehicle around them before killing the engine. Loretta knew that Elvis had a baby boy when her twins were a few months old, but she was rather certain that the mother passed away. Though maybe she was simply mixing him up with someone else.
Several men came jumping out of nowhere, grabbing her luggage while simultaneously scrutinizing her.
"E!" One of them screamed. "E! It's Loretta Lynn! It's Loretta Lynn."
Loretta couldn't help but chuckle.
"Well," Vernon said, "Now you're on your own."
A few moments passed until Elvis Presley appeared on the front porch, a small boy on his hip.
"So..." Elvis began. "Hi, Miss Loretta Lynn."
"Hi, Mr. Elvis Presley."
"Not what you expected?"
"I don't know really."
He was tall (his height was something she had never given much thought), taller than Doolittle, not that that was much of a feat. His height made her look like a child he towered over, but he offered her a lopsided grin when he looked down at her.
Two men came scampering out, scrutinizing Loretta on their way. Loretta awarded them a passing glance before focusing on the little boy, whose face was pushed against his father's neck. "Who's that little angel you got there?"
A smile formed on Elvis' lips, eyes sparkling with paternal pride. "That's my boy. You gonna say 'Hi, Miss Loretta?'" Elvis coaxed, receiving only a whimper as an answer.
"What's your name?" Loretta asked him gently.
Elvis let out a soft chuckle. "His name's Elvis. He don't talk so much and he's a bit shy."
"That's alright," she assured him. "How old is Elvis?"
"Which one of us Elvises?" Elvis asked with a crooked grin before saying, "He's just two and a half now."
"You're gettin' to be a big boy," Loretta said to the baby.
"Why don't we go inside?" Elvis suggested, shifting his son in his arms. "Do you wanna show Miss Loretta her room?"
"No," Little Elvis mumbled. "Roxy."
"You want Roxy to do it?"
"Ya. Roxy."
"How many kids do you got?" Loretta questioned.
"Two of em. Somehow I got it in my head that you got lots of em."
"I do have six."
Elvis burst out laughing. "Never a dull moment at your house, huh?"
They walked into the parlor to find not the welcoming committee Loretta had braced herself for but only a little girl with blonde spiral curls cascading just past her shoulders. She wore jeans and a western shirt as well as an expression of suspicion.
"Well, hi," Loretta said. "I'm Loretta."
The child did not say anything, though her gaze remained firmly on Loretta.
"Are you bashful too?" Loretta asked, making Elvis laugh.
"Her? You got no idea. She's a little spitfire, that's what she is." He turned to his daughter. "Roxy, this lady here's a singer. She's on Porter Wagoner."
"No, I'm on the Wilburn Brothers," Loretta corrected.
Elvis' lips twisted into a frown. "Well, look at me makin' an idiot outta myself. You say hi to the lady, Roxy. What kind of welcome are you two givin' her? She might just wanna go ahead and leave again."
"Nah, I think I'm gonna make it," Loretta said. "You folks got a real nice house. You wanna show me around some, honey?"
Upon realizing whom she had meant, Roxanne cocked her head to the side, her face still the picture of suspicion. "I ain't your honey."
Elvis was just about ready to scold her, overcome by embarrassment over the first impression she had chosen to make on someone he found to be quite pleasant so far. Loretta however, seemed completely unfazed. "Alright. Suppose you tell me what your name is so I can call you that."
"It's Roxanne."
Elvis gave Roxanne a look, as though to say 'Be good'. "You show Miss Loretta around. Me and Vissy are gonna come too."
"Vissy is what you call him?" Loretta asked with a soft laugh.
"Sure is." Elvis' lips twisted into a smile.
Roxanne wrinkled her forehead the way Elvis did when concentrating. "Why's that funny? I came up with that. I called him Vissy first."
Loretta frowned slightly. "There's nothing funny about it. I got a daughter that we call Cissie, is all. Her real name's Clara Marie. I named her for my mommy."
"You have a mommy?" Roxanne raised a brow at Loretta.
"Everyone does," Elvis told her. "You know that. Now don't make Miss Loretta think that I'm raisin' a zoo."
"You are," Roxanne deadpanned. "We got lots of animals."
"Little know-it-all, you." Using one hand to support Little Elvis' butt, Elvis reached over to skim a hand over her curls. "Now move along."
Roxanne did as he had told her, albeit not without a good amount of reluctance. He strode after them at a slower pace, stepping forward on occasion as to properly introduce Loretta to staff, Mafia members and his grandma Dodger.
It was as though most people who lived or worked on Graceland property and had been around to witness Christmas of 1963 still held the way she'd behaved then against Priscilla. And maybe they were right. Maybe he really shouldn't have taken her back. He clearly was not a good judge of character that much was obvious. Elvis was pulled from his thoughts when Little Elvis began to wiggle and squeal, "Down! Down!"
"Yes, sir." Elvis placed him on his own two feet. "We go upstairs now and show Miss Loretta her room, yeah?"
The little boy shook his head from side to side. "Mine."
"You wanna show me your room, honey?" Loretta asked.
"Ya." He ducked behind Elvis' leg but awarded her with a shy grin before stepping away from his hiding place to grab hold of Loretta's hand.
"You wanna show her your room?" Elvis questioned Roxanne, who just made a face in response.
They trekked up the stairs at Little Elvis' slow pace. A smile melted over Elvis' lips when his son pointed toward the door of his bedroom and once again proclaimed, "Mine!"
Little Elvis looked ready to melt down when Roxanne threw the door open before he could, but Elvis quickly remedied this by sweeping him up in his arms and spinning him in a few circles before placing him on the floor again.
"There you go, sonny. Now show Miss Loretta what you got," Elvis said, but his mini me was already on another wave length. He turned his back to them and toddled over to his toy box to dump half of its contents onto the floor.
"You show her your room, Buttercup," Elvis tried again.
"Why?" Roxanne whined.
"She don't have to show me," Loretta said. "Not if she don't want to."
"Cilla kind of wakes her up in the mornings before school so you'll see it eventually." If I ever do trust you to take over that task in the short time you're here, he added silently. She had made a rather good impression on him so far, especially considering what he had possibly been expecting but she was still nothing more than a stranger to him and his children.
"Where did they take my things?" Loretta asked.
"Your room...or the room you're gonna stay at. Want me to show you?"
"Me!" Little Elvis piped up.
"Yes, you get to come too," Elvis said and swung him up in his arms. "My room is over there." Elvis pointed out as they walked along the hall. He opened the door to the room that would be Loretta's for the next two weeks, wasting no time to point out her suitcase and guitar by the closet. "Here's your stuff. You play?"
"The guitar? I do some."
"Just some, huh? You sure do sing. We gotta jam tonight when the kids are in bed."
"That's real fair," Roxanne complained. "Right, Vissy?"
The little boy didn't even spare her a glance.
"Traitor," Roxanne mumbled.
"You don't even know what that means." Elvis shifted his son on his hip, freeing one hand to steer Roxanne out of the room. "We'll be downstairs, alright? You just get yourself settled."
"Okay," Loretta said.
This really wasn't too bad so far. But she did wonder how the other woman was doing at her house.
~*~
If there is any confusion over Doolittle/Mooney. Loretta called him Doolittle (or Doo for short) folks he knew from Kentucky did but he was Mooney since they moved to Washington state. Confusing, but that's how it was. Anyway, please tell me what you think. I don't really think that it's funny, but I don't want to make it...forcefully funny? Because that really isn't funny either. So, think they will get along with their swapped spouses? Is Priscilla gonna have a breakdown? And how will Loretta handle that Elvis and those kids? Isn't Elvis such a sweet daddy? You know he is!