Victoria's Secret

by Chrissy at Collinsport

Victoria makes a new friend, but she can never tell anyone who it is.

Hello! I am new to Dark Shadows fanfiction, so just want to give a brief introduction. Yes, my name is Chrissy, and "At Collinsport" refers to the website for the Dark Shadows Podcast which my husband and I produce and present at "collinsport-dot-net." (Fanfiction won't let you write the name of a website, but you can figure it out if you want to-or just google "Dark Shadows Podcast," if you want to find it.) So, anyway, that's where my pseudonym comes from.

Many years ago I wrote some fanfiction for another TV show, and it was very silly, and we won't talk about that any more. But now that we are doing the podcast, it has occurred to me what good "raw material" the Dark Shadows characters and settings can be for fanfiction…so...here I am!

This story was born out of a discussion we had on the podcast about the character Buzz, and how he might be portrayed in fanfiction. One of our listeners answered the call, and you can read his story on this site, it's called "How Carolyn Met Buzz."

As for me, I love putting together the most unlikely couples, so my story is about Vicki and Buzz. I've been so busy lately that I have only just now gotten around to completing this story. I'm hoping it will not be the last DS FF I write.

Before we start, I should apologize for the length of this piece. I can be rather long-winded. I also apologize for what might be a completely incorrect reason for Vicki's car to behave the way it does. I'm not a mechanic, so I just made up something that sounded possible. If anyone can give a better explanation for a car breaking down, I'm open to revising my story to appear more accurate.

One more thing: I also apologize if you think the title "Victoria's Secret" means this story is going to be sexy or risqué. That is not the case. Sorry to disappoint, but once the phrase occurred to me, I just couldn't resist using it.

Thank you for reading, and I would be most happy for any comments!

mmm

Victoria's Secret

My name is Victoria Winters. The long night of a bitter winter is nearing its end, and at last, a glimmer of sunshine melts the frost that clings to the early flowers. This is the season of re-birth. A cool breeze dances through the tall trees of the Collinwood Estate, whispering that life has returned to all that has been too long cold and sleeping.

I have been at Collinwood two weeks. Today is the first day of Spring. And I have a day off!

A light sweater is all I need on this gloriously sunny day, and for the first time since I've arrived in Maine, I'm putting on my slacks. Plain black slacks, nothing fancy, but quite different than the skirt or shift dress I have worn every day as David's tutor. My outfit is different, because I hope this day will also be different.

Each day since my arrival, I have found myself absorbed in trying to forge a connection with my young pupil, David Collins. This task is proving to be quite a challenge. Other than David, everyone at Collinwood has been so kind and hospitable. Elizabeth has welcomed me warmly, and Carolyn and I have become fast friends. As for Roger…well, that might be another story. But today I do not wish to think of Roger, or Elizabeth, or Carolyn…or anyone at Collinwood! I have been given permission to take the car, and I'm off to do some exploring.

I've heard of Logansport, a small town, much like Collinsport, a half hour drive up the coast. I know it's not far, not really much of an "adventure," but I've heard that the drive up the winding two-lane highway can be quite picturesque at the changing of the seasons. I considered asking Carolyn to enjoy the drive with me, and show me around Logansport, but in the end, this is an adventure I want for myself. Growing up in the Foundling Home, it was not often I could find time for myself, so just the experience of being on my own is a big part of this special treat I'm giving myself.

Of course, the one thing I hadn't considered when planning this outing by myself, is what I might do if something goes wrong. And despite all my best efforts, something does, in fact, go wrong.

I am about halfway to Logansport, on the lonesome highway that curves and meanders, in the middle of all these gloriously blooming trees, when suddenly the car gives a… "poof!" and then I hear…a "whirring." The whirring continues as I check the gauges. I'm not out of gas, not overheated. The steering is in good shape as well. What can it be? I don't know much about cars, but even I can tell that the battery is not dead.

I drive for a few more minutes, but the car is most certainly losing steam, and the sound is getting worse. I'm afraid to go on like this much longer, so I pull off the road and turn off the ignition. After a moment, I turn the key again, hoping against hope…but there is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I feel completely alone. I can hear dozens, if not hundreds of birds, singing in the trees all around me. Their carefree noise is in direct opposition to the sudden change in my mood. I am stuck out here in the middle of nowhere! My day is ruined!

And "Middle of Nowhere" is exactly where I am. In the last ten minutes, I have only seen one other car, far ahead. I get out of the car and look around, but the closest thing I can see that even resembled civilization is a glimmer of a sign somewhat up the road, which seems to read "Logansport: 10 miles."

I lean against the car door and sigh. Oh, Victoria, you've really done it now, haven't you? Suddenly I wish I had invited Carolyn. The ten mile hike that now looms ahead of me would not seem as tedious with someone to share it. Not as tedious, and…I have to admit…not as scary. There is no way to know for certain what lurks on the road ahead.

At least it is daylight, a bright sunny day, and thankfully, I have worn my most comfortable loafers. There will certainly be a payphone at the Logansport Diner. Should I call the house directly? Or perhaps Matthew, the handyman? He doesn't like me much. He'll probably find some way to turn this all around to be my fault! I dread having to call him. But oh well…I have a good long hike ahead of me to figure out what to do.

Only, I never get to take that first step. While I am still standing beside the car, taking a moment to look into the trees and listen to the birds, I slowly become aware of a rumble in the distance. At first, it sounds like thunder, but there is not a cloud in the sky. As the noise increases, I begin to realize it is a vehicle. Oh good! A passing motorist!

I'm not the type of girl to hitch-hike, but the thought passes through my mind that getting a lift into town is likely to speed up the process and perhaps at least a portion of this day can be saved. With a deep sigh, I turn to face the twisting road, ready to stick out my thumb…or at the very least, wave.

But I don't do either, because, as the noisy vehicle rounds the curve, I see it is…a motorcycle. Oh no! Not only does this dash my hopes of getting a lift into Logansport, but an uneasy feeling begins to churn deep inside as I subconsciously consider the types of people who drive motorcycles. Thank goodness there is only one! This is not a "gang." But as the motorcycle pulls closer, and slows down, I can very clearly see that the rider is a young man with unruly dark hair and the blackest sunglasses, clothed in leather, and wearing a chain across his jacket.

My heart catches in my throat as he slows, then stops, pulling up directly in front of my disabled car.

Oh, Victoria! I think. Yes, indeedy, you've really done it now! And I wish to be anywhere but here, as the young man disembarks, engages the kickstand with his leather boot, and begins to walk towards me.

For a moment he is silent, and so am I. I almost glance backwards down the road, hoping someone else will show up. I don't like being here alone with this…this motorcycle man.

At least it's daytime, bright and sunny, I think again. Though not exactly sure how that is going to help me.

The man looks first at the car, then at me. At least I think he is looking at me. It's hard to tell, his glasses are so dark. I also notice he wears a single earring, in his left ear. I feel my heart beating quickly, waiting for him to speak first.

"Hey," he says.

I try to smile. "Hello," I return pleasantly.

"Broke down?" he asks.

Well, should I lie? No. What good would that do?

"Yes," I say. "I'm afraid I…it…it just won't go."

The man glances into the front seat. Is he looking for my purse? Is he planning to rob me?

"Ya didn't forget to gas 'er up, didya?" he asks, a smirk climbing up one side of his face.

"No," I answer firmly, annoyed enough by his comment to decide at once to stop being intimidated. "There's plenty of gas. I was driving, and suddenly there was…a noise. And now when I turn the key, it just won't go."

"What kinda noise?"

I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you-"

"Is it a clunking noise?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Wheezing?"

I consider. "Not really."

"Then…a sort of…whirring? Would you call it a whirring?"

I shrug. "Maybe."

Suddenly the man nods and says, "Battery. Or alternator. Could be a belt. Lift the hood, I'll take a look."

"I…I…"

"Look, sister. I know a thing or two about cars. If it's something simple, maybe I can fix it rightaways, get you on the road again. If not, Sam's Garage is just up the road, in Logansport. He'll know what to do. But we gotta know what to tell him first. So get in, lift the hood, and let me take a look."

I am somewhat taken aback by how quickly this stranger has assumed responsibility for my situation. My immediate impulse is to politely refuse…but then, I realize, I'm in no position to refuse the kindness of strangers.

If indeed he is being kind. If this is not some evil plot of his to…to...

Oh, Victoria! Shut up and lift the hood!

In a few moments, the motorcycle man is deep inside the hood of the car, poking around. I sit behind the wheel of the disabled car, waiting patiently, and at last he emerges with a mighty, "Haha! Am I good, or what?"

I stretch my head out of the car and ask, "Have you found it?"

"Oh yeah!" he says. "C'mere and take a look."

I get out of the car and join him beside the engine. He smells like gasoline, and his fingers are greasy as he points and explains, clearly proud of himself for figuring this out so quickly. "Battery's good, that's not the problem. It's just this little belt here, see? See how it's busted?"

"So what does that mean?" I ask. "Can you fix it?"

He laughs heartily. "No can do, sister! Ya don't fix these, ya just get a new one. Sam'll have it. And it's not a ton of dough, either. Coupla bucks."

Relieved, I say, "So…so…I just need to get Sam to come out here and-"

He laughs again, this time ripping off his sunglasses. Now at last I can see his eyes, and they are not cruel eyes. Now at last I can see that he's…well, not a boy, not a kid, but he's not much older than me, I'm sure. Now at last, I am not as frightened of him.

"Listen, sister. You don't wanna make Sam come all the way out here, just to bring you an alternator belt. The service call alone will break the bank. Just come into town, get the belt, and on the way back, I'll put it in for ya."

"I…you…I mean, you can do that?"

He looks a bit offended as he assures me, "I told ya. I know a thing or two about cars."

"Oh…yes! Of course! I didn't mean…it's just…how…how…?"

But apparently, he knows already what my concern is. He gets a big grin across his face and his eyes sparkle as he says, "I'll bet you've never ridden on a motorcycle. Have you?"

I feel like I'm blushing. Which is really stupid.

He tones down his laughing, and says, "I'm a good driver. I promise. I won't go too fast. It's just a coupla miles, and the road's pretty straight from here on out. No wheelies. I promise."

"I really…I mean, I hate to impose…"

"No imposition. I'm going that way, anyways. I gotta go to Logansport to see my cousin. He owes me some money, ya know? Then I'm headin' back to Collinsport. You know Collinsport?"

"Oh yes. I'm from Collinsport."

He claps his hands and announces. "Then it's perfect. Right? I'll drop ya in Logansport, take ya to see Sam and tell him what kinda belt you need. Then you wait for me at the Diner, till I'm done with Johnny. I'll come get ya, we'll drive back to your car here, I'll put on the belt…DONE."

"Well," I have to admit, though reluctantly, "it does really make sense…" Actually, the idea of not having to bother Matthew about any of this is sounding very appealing about now.

"Yeah, it makes sense," the motorcycle man says. "But I'm still feelin' a vibe like you're…you're not diggin' the plan? So…what gives?"

I take a deep breath and announce, "No, no. It's nothing. I…I am…'diggin' the plan.' In fact, I very much want to say thank you for…for all you're doing, and for…for the plan…"

"But…?"

"But…I don't even know your name!"

The motorcycle man laughs again. "Is that all? Is that what's hangin' you up, sister? It's Buzz. My name is Buzz."

I look straight at him and say, perhaps too boldly, "I'm quite sure your name is NOT Buzz."

He laughs again. "Ya got me there, sister. It's not. But I'm not gonna tell you what it really is, cos I was named after my grandpa, and in these parts, years ago, people gave their kids some really square names. So I'm Buzz. I mean, all my friends call my Buzz. Dig?"

Now I smile. "Okay," I agree. "And my name is not 'sister.' All my friends call me Vickie."

"Well then, Vicks. Let's go. The sooner we get that belt, the sooner we get you back on the road. And you don't want to get to the Logansport Diner so late they run out of clam chowder. It's the best damn chowder this side of Bangor! Ever had some?"

"No, but I'm looking forward to it."

And that's not all I'm looking forward to. Now that there is 'a plan,' I don't feel as lost and afraid as I did at first. I just feel a bit…awkward. About getting on the motorcycle. I mean, I hardly know this man, this…Buzz…and now he's saying to me "Hold on tight, Vicks! No, tighter than that! You can squeeze me," he laughs, "I won't break!"

So I scoot up higher on the seat and lock my hands around his chest. My wrists are lying against the silver chain he has draped around his leather jacket, and the metal is cold.

"Okay! Ya ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I say, taking a deep breath.

And then we're off.

As thrilling as it had been earlier in the day to see the first signs of Spring and feel the cool fresh breeze of the changing season….this is a thousand times better. Yes, it's scary. Somewhat. I'm not unaware of the danger. But true to his word, my new friend Buzz is not driving in a reckless manner. But that cool fresh breeze now feels like a hurricane, sending my hair into a wild frenzy behind me. I am giddy, but not faint, as I prop my chin up on Buzz's leathered shoulder and watch the beautiful scenery whizz by. I think I can hear Buzz talking, or maybe he's singing, but the sound of the engine and the wind is all I can clearly make out.

Soon those sounds begin to diminish as I notice the scenery giving way to the first hints of a small town. Buzz slows the motorcycle respectfully, as we pass wooden houses, fenced-in horses, a small gas station, a general store with a cat snoozing in a rocking chair on the front porch. Now the buildings come more quickly, and before I have a chance to take it all in, we are in a town square with a large fountain in the middle, and Buzz is coming to a stop directly in front of Sam's Garage.

I disembark first, trying to smooth down my hair, and by the time I look up again, Buzz is standing in front of me, smiling ear to ear. "So. First motorcycle ride. How was it?"

"Exhilarating!" I exclaim, seeing no reason to hide my enthusiasm.

"Hey, Vicks, maybe you'll decide to become a biker chick. Whaddaya think?"

I chuckle. "Yeah…Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"Guess yer right. That's askin' a bit much, ain't it?"

"This is Sam's?" I say, wanting to get off the topic of me becoming a biker chick.

"Yeah. Let's go in."

Our business with Sam is short and sweet, as Buzz is able to immediately and adequately describe the situation to the man behind the counter. Buzz rattles off the make and model of the car, which even I did not know, and a moment later Sam reappears with a small orange box. I pay him from the cash in my pocketbook - cash that Mrs. Stoddard had given me at the outset of my trip this morning, "just in case." She did not want me to be unprepared for an emergency, and if this doesn't qualify as an emergency, I don't know what does.

As Buzz and I step out of Sam's shop and into the town square, I notice that this place is not really much different than Collinsport. There is a hotel, a public library, and several small shops offering everything from greeting cards to antiques. But the place I am most interested in is the Logansport Diner. My stomach is growling quite loudly now, and I don't want to be embarrassed in front of my new friend.

If I can call him a "friend." He certainly is acting like one. He walks me over to the Diner, introduces me to Suzy, the waitress, and instructs her to take good care of me, because I'm from Collinsport. There seems to be some private joke between them. I don't feel like I'm being made fun of. Rather, I think it's a jibe against the town.

At last Buzz leaves! I have been anxiously waiting for him to leave, so I can get to my soup, but strangely, I find that the moment he's gone…well, it's not that I miss him, but more that I begin to worry he might not come back.

It occurs to me that he could forget all about me, leaving me here with the belt in the little orange box, and no way to get it installed. Well, that's not exactly true. Sam is right across the street, and worse case scenario, if Buzz doesn't return, I can pay for Sam to drive out to the car and install the belt. But I hope that doesn't happen. And it's not just because I want to avoid having to pay Sam for his services. Mostly, it's because I would hate to be disappointed in Buzz. And I would be disappointed if I didn't get to see him again.

Growing up in the Foundling Home, I have not been able to meet very many different types of people, and mostly what I know about human nature I have learned from books. And…Buzz fascinates me. Okay, there! I said it. Even after so short an acquaintance, I find that I want to know more about him. So far he is not fitting the stereotype of what I have always heard about men that ride motorcycles. And that's what I find so intriguing.

Growing up in the Foundling Home, I guess you could say I've led a rather sheltered life. Everything about me seems…plain, and practical. In fact, I am usually an extremely practical person. Ask anyone at the foundling home. Very level-headed. At least that's how I appear on the outside.

But… what nobody else knows, is that every now and then, I let my mind wander into flights of fancy, impossible situations that would never happen, could never happen. What I really mean is…things that no one else would ever expect to happen. And Buzz's brief mention of me becoming a "biker chick" has lit a flame under my sometimes overactive imagination.

What if…what if…I begin to ponder…what if Victoria Winters were to throw off her tweed skirts and sensible sweaters for leather and chains? What if she were to give up the quiet vocation of "Governess" in order to travel the country on the back of a Harley? At least that's what I thought Buzz said about his motorcycle, that is was a Harley. Or was it just that he wished it were a Harley? No matter. I see myself in leather and boots, hair blowing wildly in the wind, lipstick and eyeliner deeper and darker than even Carolyn would ever dare to wear. Is there a wild child in me? Could I be that person…that "biker chick," arms wrapped tightly around my motorcycle man?

"More coffee, hon'?"

Suzy the waitress has come to make sure I have everything I need, and I'm afraid I am blushing, caught in the middle of this impossible fantasy.

"Yes, please," I say politely.

"So…" Suzy says with half a smile, almost a wink. "You a friend of Buzz?"

"Not really," I say, still feeling foolish. "I just met him. He's helping fix my car."

Suzy nods knowingly. "He's a sweetie, that Buzz. A little rough around the edges, but heart of gold."

"Yes," I say simply.

"And knows a bit about cars. And motorcycles."

"Good skills to have," I agree, nodding vigorously.

"Ayuh," Suzy agrees in a strong Maine accent. "A little rough around the edges, but one thing you can count on with Buzz: what you see is what you get. He's the most honest fellow I know. And that's sayin' somethin'!"

With a quick smile, Suzy moves on to the next table. I'm pleased to hear her evaluation of Buzz as honest, but my bubble of imagination has been popped, and I feel foolish for even considering such a thing. The Collins family has been very good to me; it's nonsense for me to even think of doing something other than tutoring young David.

What a troubled boy! As my thoughts turn to David, for the moment at least, I have forgotten all about my roadside hero. Pushing aside my empty soup bowl, I reach into my pocketbook for my spiral notebook, and begin to jot down lesson plan ideas. David seems especially interested in history. We have already studied the history of Collinsport. Perhaps a study of nearby Logansport should be next…

Having so quickly and easily shifted gears, I now feel more myself as I pass the time scribbling questions about the local history. I consider the idea that David and I should make a trip to Logansport together, and I wonder if there might be a museum, or any historically preserved buildings, as there are in Collinsport. I wonder if Buzz would know. I can ask him when I see him.

And then, as I look at the clock, and the lengthening shadows on the plaza outside the café window, I wonder once again if I will indeed see him.

I'm just wondering this, and how late Sam's Garage might be open, and when I might need to walk across the street to engage his services, when my ears begin to perceive a rumbling in the distance. The sound grows louder and louder, and I find myself looking expectantly down each street. At last I am rewarded by the very same vision that earlier today struck dread in my heart. The motorcycle man in leather and chains, behind the darkest sunglasses, now pulls to a stop directly in front of the café.

So I am not disappointed. My roadside hero has returned. I watch him kickstand the bike, then enter quickly through the front door. Taking off his sunglasses, he looks around, spots me in the corner, and smiles.

"Hey! Vicks!" he calls, walking towards me. "You're still here! Glad ya didn't give up on me. Took a bit longer at Johnny's than I expected. He had me movin' furniture for his Ma! Can you believe it?"

"Did he pay you the money he owed you?" It seems strange to me that we are talking almost as if we are old friends.

"Oh yeah…I got the bread…right here," he says, patting a zippered pocket on his jacket. "As a matter-a-fact, bein' suddenly wealthy and all, I'm kinda thinkin'…burger! Haven't eaten all day. You don't mind, do ya? Did ya like the soup? I'll buy ya a piece of pie, if you'll wait for me."

I smile, almost laugh. "Of course I'll wait for you. Do I really have a choice? But it's me that should be treating you, for all your help. You don't need to buy me anything."

"So…no pie?"

I consider. "Okay on the pie. If they have blueberry. And if you let me pay."

We haggle back and forth about who's paying for what, both trying to foot the bill, and end up agreeing to 'go Dutch.' Buzz orders a beer with his burger, then checks my reaction.

"That's not a problem, is it?" he asks.

Actually, it is. I guess my silence clearly says so.

"Don't guess you want one too?"

I shake my head. "No…of course not…"

"But you're afraid…"

"Are you going to be able to drive your motorcycle okay if…?"

Buzz bursts out laughing. "One beer? Are you kiddin' me? It would take a lot more than one beer to do me in."

I take a deep breath, trying not to look so…stuck-up. So worried and…priggish. I do have a tendency to get that way, to be overly cautious. So much for me becoming the wild biker chick, right? The wild biker chick who can't even stand the thought of a single beer?

"Don't worry, Vicks. I've ridden under the influence of two six packs and never fell off my bike once. That's saying somethin'…huh?"

I have no response. Two six packs? I'm thinking. On occasion I've gotten sleepy from a couple glasses of wine, and once I had champagne, which made me very dizzy. I can't imagine how anyone could function having consumed two six packs of beer!

After a moment, I offer, somewhat weakly, "I guess you're a person who can hold his liquor."

Now I dare to look at Buzz, and I see that he is observing me…keenly. Looking at me as if he is trying to figure me out. And in fact, that is the case, for the next words out of his mouth are "You're not the kinda girl I usually hang out with."

"For goodness sakes!" I blurt out. "What is that supposed to mean?" I don't know whether or not to be offended.

Buzz thanks the waitress as his beer is brought to the table, then says, flat out, "You're a good girl, Vicks. I can tell."

Now I am more confused than ever. I feel myself sitting up straighter, a defensive edge in my voice as I reply, "And is that such a bad thing?"

"No! Not at all!" Buzz says instantly. "I mean, not at all bad for you. Kinda bad for me, though, ya know? Bein' that I don't associate with girls like you. Maybe I oughta..."

I look at him and realize that I have indeed been foolish these past hours, imagining that simply because someone has shown me a kindness, that must necessarily make him an outstanding, respectable person. It just goes to show me, once again, how very little I really do know about people.

I'm deep in thought about my own shortcomings, when Suzy reappears with my pie. Buzz holds her arm and says, "Hey, Suze, wait a sec." Then he looks at me and repeats, "Last chance, Vicks. Sure ya don't want a beer? My treat."

I smile apologetically, then say, "Well…I might, after all. But I don't think it would go very well with blueberry pie."

Buzz sits back. "Yeah. Probably right. Thanks, Suze."

Buzz drinks his beer, and I start my pie, saying something about how good it is, and for a few moments we don't talk. I'm not really sure where we go from here. But Buzz picks it up again, with another blunt statement.

"So… I've lived in Collinwood most my life, ya know? Thought I knew everyone."

"I'm new," I explain. "Only been there a few weeks."

"Really. Where ya from?"

"New York."

"Really?" Now his interest is piqued. "Whadda do in New York?"

"Teach," I say simply.

He laughs, by which I'm sure he means I could have pegged you for a teacher.

"So whaddaya teach?"

"Children," I answer. "Third grade, mostly." I'm determined not going to mention the Foundling Home, but I'm not sure why. Somehow, I think I would find it embarrassing if Buzz knew too much about my background.

"So is that what you're doin' in Collinsport? Teachin'?"

"Sort of…"

"At Collinsport Elementary? I went there, ya know. Long time ago. What grade ya teachin'?"

I take a deep breath. "Well, I'm not actually teaching at the school. I'm actually sort of a…a tutor."

"A tutor?"

There's something about the way he says it, I'm not sure if Buzz knows what a tutor is.

"Not really a tutor. Actually…a governess."

"A governess?" he exclaims, leaning in closer. "Holy moly! That can only mean one thing! Are you workin' for the Collins family?"

"Why…yes, I am."

Buzz sits back, laughing heartily. "Holy…moly…"

I sit up straighter, once again not sure whether or not to be offended.

"Why?" I ask. "What are you…what does that mean to you?"

"The Collins family," he says. "Up on the hill. Tons of dough. Everything all…prim and proper…"

I feel that defensiveness creeping in stronger than ever. "Yes?" I demand. "So?"

"SO," he says plainly. "You must know Carolyn Stoddard."

"Yes, of course I do. We've actually become quite good friends."

This time his laugh is more of a snort. "Ha! As if Miss Perfect Ice Queen could actually be friends with anyone!"

Okay….I'm thinking. Clearly some history here.

"Whatever may have happened between you and Carolyn, I assure you she's been nothing but—"

"Yeah, yeah," he says dismissively. "Nuthin' but kind, all swell and friendly. She's like that at first. With some people. Doesn't show her true colors right away."

Now I am offended, on Carolyn's behalf. "What colors?" I demand.

"I don't know," Buzz says. "What color is it when someone's -a snob? When someone thinks they're better than everybody else?"

Now I am so offended, I feel compelled to say what I was thinking only a moment ago. "Really, Buzz! Clearly you and Carolyn must have some history. But that doesn't necessarily make her a bad person."

"Oh yeah? How would you know? I mean…not knowin' what happened and all. You don't know what you're talkin' about, Vicks."

His over-familiarization of my name throws me off for a moment, but I pick up again almost immediately with, "Okay then. What happened? What did Carolyn do that was so terrible?"

Buzz makes a gesture. Clearly he doesn't want to talk about it.

But he's started this, and I'm determined to finish it. "It must have been pretty bad. Was she…mean? Was she…rude? Did she do something unforgiveable?" And then suddenly a light bulb goes off over my head. "Did she…did she…break up with you?"

Buzz snorts, and this time there's no doubt of his derisive tone. "Well, you'd have to be dating first, wouldn't ya, in order to break up?"

"So then, you didn't date? But…but I don't understand. You certainly are acting like…like a jilted lover, like someone who's…who's-"

But I don't finish, because suddenly the truth has become apparent. I had been about to say "who's had his heart broken," but I don't think there's any need for those words at this point.

In fact, I'm not quite sure what to say, now that we've come this far. Buzz is silent a moment, lost in some thought from long ago, but quickly enough he observes, "It might not be so bad for you, bein' a girl and all. I think she was okay with mosta her girlfriends. Though there were a few really pretty ones that she really had it out for. Oh! Not that I'm saying you're not pretty, Vicks. You're not bad-lookin'. Almost as pretty as Carolyn. But you're…you're the governess. So she's still got somethin' to lord over you. You're just a servant, up there on the hill-"

"I am not!" I exclaim.

"Uh…Vicks, hate to break it to ya, but yes…you are."

"But….but…Carolyn doesn't treat me that way at all!"

"Well then, good for you! I guess."

"Yes! It's very good for me. The Collins family has been nothing but kind and wonderful to me since I've arrived. Everyone has, including Carolyn."

"Well, like I said: good for you!"

Buzz finishes his beer, and calls to Suzy for another. She brings it with his burger, and he starts eating and drinking again, right away. I wonder if he thinks this conversation is over.

I let him eat and drink, and at this point I'm not even concerned about him having a second beer. For some reason I trust him when he says he can drink two six packs and not fall off his bike. I'm sure he'll be just fine…as for as that goes. What I'm not sure of, though, is his emotional state. It's obvious that the subject of Carolyn Stoddard has hit a raw nerve.

I don't know if I should bring her up again…but my curiosity eventually gets the best of me. I've given him enough time to eat, so if he's still irritable, it won't be because he's hungry, and I'm actually hoping the beer will loosen his tongue. At a moment that seems just right, I say, quietly, "So…Buzz… are you going to tell me about it?"

He looks up. "Tell ya about what?" he asks, but I'm pretty certain he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"About Carolyn. About what happened with you and Carolyn."

"Boy! You don't give up, do ya?"

I open my mouth to say something, I'm not sure what, and I feel that I am probably rolling my eyes at the same time, because Buzz comes right back with, "All right, all right already! I'll tell you. But really, it's nuthin'. And I mean that: nuthin'."

He sits back, and looks out the window again. Soon he begins, but slowly. "It was a long time ago. Water under the bridge. I don't think about it no more…'cept when somebody comes in and says somethin' to make me start thinkin' about it."

He looks at me as if he expects me to apologize for making him think about it, but I feel that if I do that, I'll never get to hear the story, so I bite my tongue, and eventually my insatiable need for gossip outweighs my ingrained desire to always be excessively polite to all people at all times. It's a tough struggle for me, but once that moment passes, I'm in the clear. Buzz continues.

"It's like I told ya. Nuthin' happened. That's the problem. It seems so long ago now. Back in high school, I'm a sophomore, and here comes in the freshman class, and there's pretty little Carolyn Stoddard, with her bouncy blonde hair and sweet little smile, wearing those big beautiful false eyelashes, even way back in ninth grade. I knew they were false, but I didn't care . She was just about the prettiest girl I ever did see. And she had a way about her…I mean, she can have this certain way about her, ya know? Kinda flirty and sexy, when she wants to be. And believe you me, she wanted to be. Even way back then. She had the stuff."

"So you liked her," I observe. "You admired her. You…had a crush."

Now Buzz rolls his eyes. "Yeah. A crush. I guess that's what you girls are calling it."

"And I'm guessing it was…unrequited?"

Buzz makes a sour face. "If by that you mean she wouldn't throw me a rope if I was drownin' then…Yeah. Unrequited."

"Well, that's…that's nothing new, Buzz. Nothing terrible. I mean, it happens to everyone. Doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," Buzz agrees. "But knowin' that don't make it hurt less when it happens to you."

We are both quiet again for a few moments, thinking about Carolyn, and unrequited love. I had an experience of my own, when I was about seventeen, so I totally understand, and empathize.

I'm kind of getting lost in my own memories, even as Buzz is getting lost in his, but suddenly he announces, "But I mean it, Vicks. When I say she wouldn't throw me a rope if I was drownin'…she was one cruel kid. Wouldn't have anything to do with me. I don't know…guess I wasn't….suave enough for her, ya know? She took up with all the football players and the class president, all the bigshots. Wouldn't give me the time of day."

"What were you like in high school?"

Buzz opens his arms wide. "Hey," he says. "What you see is what you get."

"So, not that much different."

"Well, I didn't have the bike then. But otherwise…" Suddenly he leans forward. "Listen, Vicks. I don't go for that 'puttin' on airs' stuff. That never sat well with me, still doesn't. I am what I am."

"Like it or lump it?" I say.

"Yeah," he says, then sighs bitterly, "And Carolyn Stoddard had no problem lumpin' it."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"It means that when I finally got up the nerve to go talk to the little princess, she just sort of looked at me…disdainfully…is that the word? And I'm sweatin' bullets, workin' up to ask her out, determined to get through with this, even though by the way she's lookin' at me from under those false eyelashes I can already pretty much tell she'd made up her mind, and it isn't good…but there I go like a big jerk, sayin' we should go out to a movie or somethin' some time…and do you know what she did?"

I shake my head, afraid to speak.

"She laughs. One great big, sort of…disdainful laugh, and she bats those long eyelashes of hers and says, 'Oh my…oh dear…actually…I don't think so…'"

"Really?" I exclaim. It's hard for me to imagine Carolyn being so cruel. That's my first thought. But then, when I let it sink in for a moment, I reconsider. Well…maybe not all that hard to imagine…

"Yeah. She really let me have it. Knocked me right down. And then she walks away, kinda struts away, and goes right over to her friends, and whispers to them, and then the whole bunch of them looks over at me, gigglin' their fool heads off."

"How embarrassing!" The words slip out, before I know what I'm saying.

"You're telling me!" Buzz agrees. "Worst moment in high school, up to that point and beyond. Took me a long time before I got up the nerve to ask out another girl."

"Oh, Buzz…I'm so sorry…"

He waves this off with a flick of his hand. "Nuthin' to be sorry about. Like I said, water under the bridge. But yeah…it really is no fun to think about this all over again."

"Well then…I'm sorry for making you talk about it. But maybe I can make this all up to you."

"How?"

"Well…I do live at Collinwood, and as I said, Carolyn is now a friend of mine-"

He holds up his hands. "Whoa… no! No you don't!"

"Don't what?"

"I don't want you saying nuthin' to Carolyn about me. I mean it! Don't even tell her you met me. This is all in the past, dead and buried, and it should stay that way."

"But-"

"I'm not kiddin', Vicks."

"But-"

"You're not getting it, are you?"

"But if Carolyn were to hear about how good you've been to me, how much you've helped me when I-"

"Who needs it! That's not gonna make any kinda impression on her, and actually, I don't even care if it does. I'm not interested in Carolyn Stoddard any more. And besides, she's got a boyfriend now, doesn't she?"

"Yes. Joe Haskell. But I'm not saying you should ask her out or anything like that. I'm just saying, if you were to come over to the house, just to say hello…"

"Oh no! I ain't goin' anywhere near that house!" Buzz insists.

"But I'm sure-"

"No way, man! I'm sure that if Carolyn's Ma got one look at me, she'd probably just about faint dead away. She for sure wouldn't let someone like me walk through that front door."

I sigh, knowing he's probably right about Mrs. Stoddard.

"Besides," Buzz goes on. "I got no business there. This is all ancient history. If Carolyn never thinks of me again, that'll be just fine."

I sit back, pouting. "I wish you would reconsider."

"Why?" Buzz asks, leaning forward, looking directly at me. "What's it to you anyways, Vicks?"

"Well, I…I just like to see people get along, that's all."

"Well then listen to this. If you and I are gonna get along, you've got to promise me that you'll just drop this whole thing, hear? Just forget I ever said anything about Carolyn Stoddard."

He can see how disappointed I am, so he adds, "Look. If Miss Carolyn Stoddard ever decides she wants anything to do with me, she knows where I am. This time, she can come to me."

"And if she did come to you…what would you do?"

Buzz sits back, considering. "I don't know. Whatever strikes me at the moment. I might decide to laugh in her face and turn my back, just like she did to me. Or maybe…maybe I'd give it a go."

"Oh, I wish you would!"

"There's just one thing, Vicks, and I'm serious, you gotta promise me this. If Miss C ever should call me up, it's gotta be her own idea, not 'cos you put any ideas in her head. I mean it. Don't even tell her you met me. This here…us meetin' and all…it's just gotta be our secret….all right?"

I look at Buzz for a long moment, noticing how completely serious he is. I don't really know why I'm pushing the matter with him. Again, it must just be my desire to see everybody get along. But I can tell that the best way to get along with Buzz is to agree to keep this secret.

And besides, I kind of like the idea of having a secret.

When I came to Collinwood, it was in hopes of discovering who my real parents might be, to uncover the identity of the mysterious benefactor who had been sending me $50 every month for countless years. Everyone in the Collins family obviously has a secret of their own, right up to and including little David. My life, on the other hand, growing up in the foundling home, has been lived in a very public way. It's only now at Collinwood that I even have my own bedroom. I've never been in a position to enjoy the luxury of secrets.

Thinking this all through, I feel a smile slowly begin to spread across my face. "Okay then," I agree quietly. "Our little secret. I won't tell Carolyn. I won't tell anyone. I never met you. You never met me."

Buzz grins widely. "Thatta girl!"

I smile sheepishly. Why does this feel almost…naughty? Nobody knows where I am, or who I'm with. For maybe the first time in my life, I am completely on my own.

And it feels good.

Not that I really do much with this opportunity. Another girl might turn this into a wild fling, but Buzz has been completely correct about me: I'm a good girl. And I guess because of that, he's being a perfect gentleman. With another girl, he might go crazy. If I were Carolyn, who knows what might happen between us? But I'm not Carolyn. Not even close. I'm Victoria Winters, the Collinwood governess, simply enjoying being in a new place with a new friend.

Buzz and I talk most of the rest of the afternoon. He gives me a great deal of information about Logansport, and more importantly, Collinsport. Now that the topic of Carolyn Stoddard is out of the way, he's very animated, and continues to be polite and helpful. He tells me stories about his cousin Johnny, and I tell him about living in New York City. I'm sure these are not the exciting kinds of stories he is hoping for, but I appreciate the fact that he is listening at all.

Well, I do actually go a bit wild, I must confess. I have another piece of pie, and another cup of coffee. And Buzz has another beer. By this time, the sun is beginning to hang much lower in the sky, and long shadows fall across the checkered floor of the Logansport Diner. Suzy the waitress is filling the sugar dispensers, and except for Buzz and I, the place is completely deserted.

Finally, we are laughing about something, I don't even remember what, and Buzz sighs deeply, and says, "Well, Vicks…guess I oughta be getting' you back to your car. You ready for another motorcycle ride?"

Actually, I'm not. Not because I'm afraid of the motorcycle, but because I don't want this special time to end. But I know it must. We get up, we pay, and I put on my sweater. Now we're on the motorcycle again, taking the same ride we took earlier today, only now in reverse, and once again Buzz is singing. I almost think I can hear him. I laugh, and listen.

Too quickly, I see my car in the distance, parked on the side of the road, where I'd left it. Then, even more quickly, we are there, and Buzz is having me open the hood, and he's reaching into the little orange box and pulling out the belt.

"Okay!" he calls from under the hood. "Rev 'er up!"

I turn the key in the ignition. Brrrrmmmm! Power!

"You've done it!" I exclaim.

Buzz slams the hood shut and comes to the side of the driver's door, grinning. "I told you I would! Why? Did you ever doubt?"

"No," I say gratefully, "I didn't. Not for a moment."

Then we just look at each other, me in the driver's seat, Buzz standing by the driver's

door. Oddly, this is the most awkward I have felt with him since that first moment, when I saw him approaching in leather, chains and dark glasses. He is not wearing the dark glasses now, and I can see by the look in his eyes that he feels just as awkward as I do.

Where do we go from here?

Buzz makes the decision. "So…Vicks…" he says. "Guess you can get on your way, get on back to Collinwood, back to Carolyn's little nephew….what's his name?"

"David."

"David," he repeats. Then, "He a good kid?"

I hesitate. "He has potential," I say. "But right now…I would say he's a very troubled boy."

"Ahhh…" Buzz nods. "So ya got your hands full…"

"Yes, I do," I reply, wondering why we are talking about David. I change the topic suddenly, boldly. "So, Buzz…will I see you again?"

He is just about the most unique person I've ever met, and a part of me would really like to see him again.

But Buzz is looking out for that other part of me, the part that lives at Collinwood, and knows Carolyn, and would have a good bit of explaining to do to her employer if a young man on a motorcycle were to come calling.

"Now, Vicks," he says. "You got a groovy gig up there on the hill. Not my kinda thing, but I can tell you dig it. So I wouldn't wanna do anythin' to put that in jeopardy for ya."

I know he's right.

"And besides…how we gonna keep this secret we're agreed to, if it's not actually a secret…ya know?"

"Yeah…I know…"

"I mean, it's been a gas! I enjoyed hangin' out with ya for sure, cos you're a lot different than mosta the girls I know. But…but you're up there on the hill…"

"I know…" I say quietly. Then, taking a big breath, "Well, thank you so much for…for helping me, anyway. You really have been a lifesaver!"

"Sure thing, Vicks," he says, slapping the car door. "Now remember…you promised! Not a word to Carolyn!"

"I promise, Buzz. You can trust me."

"Good."

"But I do hope…I hope…that someday you and Carolyn might get the chance to…to…"

"Look! I told ya: who needs it? Not me!" Then he looked at me, softened, and added, "But…well…ya never know what's gonna happen, right? I mean, anything could happen. Right?"

"Right!" I agree.

And then he gets on his motorcycle, and waves one time, turns, and drives away, back towards Collinsport. I watch him go, hear the rev of his engine fading down the road, then I turn the car around and head back towards Collinsport myself. It's been quite a day! Not at all what I had hoped for when I set out this morning in search of clam chowder and the first signs of Spring. I got all that, and a whole lot more.

Dusk comes quickly in these parts, especially in these early days of Spring, when the sun is still shy about lingering too long, and the chill in the air has not yet been completely eradicated by the promise of Summer. As I drive home in the approaching twilight, I reflect that my life till now has been so very ordinary. Coming to Collinwood, I knew change would be inevitable. But someone like Buzz? The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that someone like Buzz could never fit into my life at Collinwood.

Not only that, but I am also becoming convinced that my entire idea about Buzz and Carolyn meeting again and mending fences must have been some sort of…some sort of temporary insanity on my part! Buzz has only been out of my sight for a few minutes, but already the very notion of him appearing on the doorstep of Collinwood now seems so preposterous! Were that to happen, for whatever reason, I'm quite sure it could not lead to anything good.

No, Carolyn and I are from one world, and Buzz is from another. Best to keep those worlds separate from each other. Best to keep this secret that I have sworn this afternoon.

It could be that from this point forward my life may be filled with secrets. Secrets and mysteries. In fact, there is something about Collinwood that makes me think that might very well be the case. The road ahead is uncertain. But one thing I do know for sure: I shall travel that road, whatever it may bring, harboring the secret of one pleasant afternoon spent in the company of a young man who made me temporarily yearn for a life less ordinary…the kind of life that, for better or worse, I'm quite certain, could never be mine.