Starfish
By Marlee Darkscribe
Note: I gave Jessica Buchanan Bree Williamson's DOB –Sept. 5, 1981, which means she is about to turn 24. Jessica Buchanan was originally born in 1986, then aged from infant to preteen in1990, after Viki's stroke. I made a few minor changes to the timeline to allow Jessica to age in real time and to build a believable retcon for those of us who watched Jessica have a happy childhood.
Prologue
1985
Little Jessie's nanny thought she was still asleep; she had been, until the slamming of the heavy front door woke her. Clint and Viki, her parents, were somewhere downstairs. Her brothers, Kevin and Joey, were playing catch in the yard. Jessie tiptoed down the hallway of the second floor of Llanfair. No one saw her open the door of the Master Bedroom and approach the king-sized bed. She climbed, gripping the bedpost in her pudgy hand. She wobbled to the center of the bed, her bare feet slippery upon the silk bedspread.
Jessie jumped on the bed, higher and higher. She forgot about the fears she couldn't name, fears that grew every time she heard her mom and dad argue. Her tousled blonde curls bounced as well, adding to the feeling of weightlessness. Her frilly baby doll nightgown flew from her knees to her waist and back. She closed her eyes. If she could, she would jump forever.
"Well, well, would ya get a load of the little jumpin' bean?"
Jessie ignored the voice and kept jumping. She was almost four years old and she had figured out that questions like 'What have we here?' were closely followed by orders to 'Stop that at once!' and the dreaded 'young lady' speech.
A sharp, piercing whistle startled her. Her eyes opened wide. Her jumping spree ended with one hard landing followed by a tiny bounce as her bottom hit the mattress.
"Wow." She looked up at the woman who had made such a loud sound by putting her fingers in her mouth.
"Impressive, huh? Learned it in New York City; whistle like that and you can catch a cab anywhere. Remember that, kiddo; you can get just about anything you want if you're not afraid to make some noise." The woman looked like Jessie's mom, but that was all. Viki never chewed gum or whistled (until now). The way she moved, her accent and tone of voice were different from Viki's trademark cultured precision. "So, how come you ain't bouncin' on your own bed, kiddo?"
"My bed's too small," Jessie said. She knew she would have to hear a lecture and get sent to her room, away from mom and dad. "It's not fair. I never get to have any fun." She scowled.
"You're telling me," came the surprising reply. "Hm, I've done a lot of things on a lot of beds, but I don't think I have ever jumped. It's fun, huh?"
"Yeah," breathed Jessie. She grinned up at the woman. "It's like flying."
"Cool." The woman slipped off her black heels and the chunky jeweled accessories from her pantsuit before she climbed to the center of the bed next to Jessie. She leaned down and held out her hands to the surprised child, helping her to her feet.
Still holding hands, they jumped. The woman and the little girl lost themselves in flight, defying gravity and laughing with the sheer joy of freedom. In that moment, there could be no doubt that the two were mother and daughter.
They broke the bed.
The minute the plywood boards that supported the mattress and boxspring gave way, the structure crashed. Mother and daughter heard the distinct sound of footsteps in the house.
"Crap." The woman lifted her little girl into an awkward embrace. Jessie shifted until she was in the more comfortable and familiar position: arms around neck, head on shoulder, body weight on one hip. "Listen up, kiddo. You do me a solid, and I'll do you one."
"Huh?" Jessie asked.
"Jumping on the bed was fun, right?"
"Uh-huh."
"It's my bed, so if I want us to jump on it, what's the harm?"
"It broke." Jessie sighed. "That's why I'm not allowed to jump on my bed, because it'll break."
"That's cause you're a kid and kids have no money to pay for new beds. I'm a grownup with credit cards; I can break as many beds as I want. And we didn't get hurt, did we?"
"Uh-uh."
"Well, the people heading this way are determined to suck the joy out of my life and make sure that I never have any fun. If they have their way, both of us are gonna be in big trouble over this. I don't know about you, kiddo, but I don't wanna be locked in a tiny room until somebody decides I'm a good girl again. Do you?"
"No way, Jose." Jessie shook her head as she repeated one of her brothers' favorite phrases.
"If you just stay where you are, do everything I tell you, and keep you mouth shut, I'll get us both out of trouble. Deal?"
"Okay."
"Good." They heard multiple footsteps on the grand staircase. "When someone asks you a question, cry. When I pat you, cry. When I kiss your head, cry harder. Don't let anyone see your face. Got it?"
"Got it," Jessie whispered.
Jessie didn't understand most of what happened next. She paid close attention to the words and cues, so that she would know when to cry, but ignored the meanings as unimportant. She kept her face hidden while her mom talked to the nanny, the housekeeper, and her dad. She heard them leave and lifted her head, only to have her mom push it back down. Her dad, Kevin, and Joey came in a few minutes later; Jessie cried all through their goodbyes as they left to go to Granpa Asa'a house for the weekend.
"Great job, kiddo. We're in the clear." Her mom whooped and swung her around in a dizzying circle. Jessie liked this new mom so much better than the one that fussed and worried. This new mom spent time with her without other people around. "Remember, ya gotta keep this a secret, just between you an me. Pinky swear?" They made the traditional gesture. "Tell you what, you go put on your favorite outfit and I'll take you out for a treat before I drop you off at Asa's."
The second her feet touched the floor, Jessie ran to her room. Once there, she bit her lip. Her nanny had always picked out her clothes and told her what to wear. Looking through her closet and dresser drawers, Jessie realized that she didn't like these clothes. They were pale pink and baby blue, with ruffles and frills and matching ribbons. They were clothes for little ladies who didn't get dirty. She didn't know whether to scream or cry.
Jessie was still standing in the center of her room, staring at the open closet door, when her new mom walked in.
"You're still in your jammies? Time is money, kiddo." She heard the displeasure in her new mom's voice and saw the frown on her face. Now new mom would leave her with the nanny, too. It wasn't fair.
Jessie screamed. "I hate them." She gestured at the dresses hanging in the closet. "I won't wear them and you can't make me." She stomped her foot and glared at new mom.
New mom looked at the dresses and made a face. "Eww, are they all like that?"
Jessie nodded.
"I wouldn't wear them, either, kiddo." New mom tilted her head and considered the child. "Okay, since I owe you one, I'll take you shopping for real clothes, not dresses for dollies. Cool?"
"Cool." Jessie grinned.
"But ya gotta pick something to wear to the mall cause they won't let you in wearing a nightgown." New mom winked at her. She picked a pink dress, white socks, and black patent leather shoes to wear. In a few minutes, she looked like a tomboy forced to wear a dress, which was what she was.
"So if you hate the dresses, how come you wore them before now?"
"They said I had to," said Jessie.
"Who are 'they'?"
"The nanny, my dad, my old mom."
"Your 'old' mom?"
"Can I tell you a secret?" Jessie bit her lip again. She didn't want to mess this up.
"Sure, kiddo." New mom was still frowning. Jessie raised her arms in a 'pick-me-up' gesture. New mom did.
Jessie whispered in her ear. "I like you better than old mom."
"But no one likes…You do? No kiddin'?"
Jessie nodded.
"How come?"
"You smile. You're fun. You do stuff. You don't care if I'm pretty or sweet."
"You are one smart cookie, you know that?" New mom's frown disappeared and her smile warmed Jessie. "I didn't think so before, but I am your mom, kid." New mom walked over to the closet, still carrying Jessie. "You see this stuff? This was the perfect wardrobe for the perfect little girl. It figures, any child of Victoria would never get dirty or have a hair out of place."
"I want to get dirty," she whispered. "I want to play outside, like Kevin and Joey."
"Of course you do. My kid would get out there and live life, not sit around and watch and then write about it for some boring newspaper that'll end up lining birdcages or wrapping fish. Leave that to losers like Victoria and Jessica."
"But I'm Jessie."
"Wrong-O." New mom laughed and raised one eyebrow. "Jessie is a boring princess who likes the dolly dresses. Jessie always does the right thing. Jessie doesn't have fun. Jessie would never jump on a bed because it isn't ladylike."
"I don't wanna be Jessie. I wanna have fun."
"You are not Viki's little girl, Jessie, not today anyway. You're my little girl, so I get to name you." New mom looked around the nursery, pausing at the table next to the nightstand. On display were three blonde Barbie dolls wearing dresses and one brunette Teresa doll wearing a polo shirt and blue jeans. "You are Nicole Smith's daughter Teresa, Tess for short. Let's go buy you some jeans."