A Life Rescued
Part 5
Chapter 48 – The Flop
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)
Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story.
WARNING: The first quarter of this chapter contains frank discussions about sexual abuse. There is a less edited version of this chapter in The Brink, mainly due to language.
Leslie Burke woke up Thursday morning feeling as if a part of her had broken away and melted into the ground, lost forever in the porous soil. Moreover, this was not the first time she'd felt it, either. Since Janice Avery's death, she had been fighting the same feeling nearly every morning, and she could not shake it. Jesse said she was experiencing depression and loss from the tragedy, and Leslie reckoned he knew what he was talking about. In spite of the kind words from her friends, however, she still felt as if she had let Janice down. Additionally, the calamity that was now attached to Janice was also part of her and Jesse Aarons, for Janice symbolized one of the key people in their lives, one who had helped bring them together.
Judy had to call up to her daughter twice to come down for breakfast, and her father nearly left to pick up Jesse without her. But she made it in time and sat in the back seat, quietly holding her boyfriend's hand and fighting back tears. Jesse noticed this but didn't know what more to say, they had talked about Janice for days and nothing seemed to make Leslie feel better. He was grateful, however, she would be having Barbara over the next day to plan some sort of girl party.
Barbara Keane had been doing everything she could to help Leslie through the bout of depression her friend had sunk into, for she was well familiar with the experience. And perhaps that experience, more than anything she said, helped her put the tragedy into perspective. There would be good days and bad, Barbara told her, but the good would become more frequent as time passed. In the weeks between Janice's death and the party, the pretty blonde and feisty redhead had become as close friends as Leslie and Grace, possibly even more so as they saw each other in school daily. There was always a limit, however, to what Leslie felt they could expect to share with each other: Barbara's past, she believed, would forever be a DO NOT ENTER zone. But as they spent more time together, the barrier was being slowly eroded away.
Leslie relied more and more upon her friend to assist her with the planning of the party, and their plans went through a number of iterations before invitations were sent out. Barbara was for a larger, more inclusive cross-section of their friends; Leslie wanted fewer. And she knew that when a bunch of fourteen and fifteen year old girls gathered together, much of the conversation would be about boys (and their butts), sex, and clothing – in that approximate order. So if there was going to be shared intimacies, Leslie wanted only their most trusted acquaintances. This logic eventually won Barbara's blessing, and besides, the event was taking place at the Burke's house so the Burke daughter was boss. But she still tried.
"Are you sure you want to limit it to just us six?" she asked one final time.
"I can't think of who else we can trust to talk about the subjects bound to come up." This evoked a round of giggles. "Oh. . . .We could ask Maggie."
"Maggie? My sister, Maggie?"
"Yeah, she's cool. . . . isn't she?" Leslie asked, wary of Barbara's look of skepticism.
"You could call her cool, I suppose. If you want to know about, er, things, she's the expert."
Leslie was taken aback. Maggie Keane had always seemed as straight-laced as her sister Jen. "By 'things' do you mean boys. . . . And. . . . things?"
"Boys, girls, sex, the whole package. I mean, she doesn't have much practical experience, at least I don't think so. . . . it's more book knowledge. But she's always been the go-to girl when one of us had a question we couldn't talk to our mother about." Then her face fell. "Except Terri, you couldn't tell her anything." Barbara sniffed and turned away for a couple seconds.
"Sorry," Leslie said, jumping up and embracing her friend.
"S'ok. We can invite her. But knowing you, she probably won't have a chance to talk with anyone else."
Leslie was more confused than offended by the odd comment and look of amusement on her friend's face. "What do you mean?"
"You have an insatiable curiosity about sex, Leslie Burke. . . ."
"I do not!"
Barbara laughed aloud and said, "C'est vrai. Qui s'excuse, s'accuse!"
"Hey, I'm taking Spanish, what did you say?"
"It's a French expression: He who excuses himself, accuses himself."
Leslie grimaced. "Does it seem that way to everyone?"
"No, just your closest friends, I think." She paused. "Les. . . . have you and Jess, er, done it, yet?"
Opening her mouth to protest such a forward question, Leslie instead told the truth. "No, still a virgin. . . . For now," she finished, arching her eyebrows mischievously. Then she smirked. "And you? OH CRAP! I'm sorry, Barb! I. . . . I . . . ."
"It's ok, Les."
It was obvious it was not ok, and Leslie's heart sank. "I can't believe I said that. I am so, so sorry. . . ."
But then, unexpectedly, Barbara began to tell Leslie about her family and sisters' lives over the past few years, and her cheeks rapidly became as red as her hair. At one point, Leslie had to calm her down to be understood. She told her everything: the brainwashing, the 'private' life and secluded houses, the photographic sessions that became touching sessions and so forth.
"My father could be very persuasive without being threatening. At first, he would make like he was explaining human anatomy, pointing to a part of my body and explaining in detail how it worked. He started at the top," Barbara touched her lips, "showing me how to kiss, and then moved down. I remember he spent almost an entire week explaining to me about my boobs, how they worked. He was so bloody smooth about it. If there was anything even remotely sexual about the topic that day, he would have me do the touching, or guide my hand through the action. . . .At first. . . .He got me used to the feelings."
Leslie sat transfixed, in barely hidden disgust, as Barbara told about her father taking pictures.
"'For you,' he would say, for when I was older. And I bought it. . . . I guess. The whole nudism thing was just another way to get us comfortable with being naked, and it kept Jen's suspicions down for a long time." Looking suddenly timid and ill, she grimaced and continued. "It wasn't until he got down there," she pointed to her lap, "that I began to wonder. But whenever I hesitated, he would stop and begin talking about males and how they were different. He used to take off his shirt and have me stand in front of him with mine off so he could point out. . . . Things - you know, physical differences. Eventually it got to a point where we were standing with little or no clothes on. Then the heavy sexual crap started. Sometimes we'd be together for hours, him telling me about what got men aroused. I guess I was about twelve, during our last year in England, when we met Gracie and her family."
"I never imagined, Barb. Your parents were always so proper and kind," was the only remotely logical thing Leslie could think to say when Barbara lapsed into silence.
"Yeah, they were good at fooling people. They were experts, especially my father. Anyway, once we reached the point of touching our. . . . down there, it was only a matter of time before the sex started. But he still kept up this pretense of being a teacher. Looking back now, I can't believe I was so gullible. I think it was partly because he always made a point of making sure I, er, was. . . . you know . . . . satisfied. I don't think I ever left one of our rendezvous not having had an orgasm." Barbara gave a rueful little laugh. "It was like we always finished on a high note. He had me addicted to sex. I – I can't remember a time when I said I didn't want to feel that - that intensity. What's really disgusting is that there are some parts of it I miss."
Before continuing, she sighed, stretched and lay back on Leslie's bed. "It took me months of counseling, since Mum and Dad were arrested, to work through all this. I think I'll feel tainted for the rest of my life."
"So he made you do. . . . everything?" asked Leslie, trying to make her question sound less driven by curiosity than it truly was.
Barbara frowned. "Pretty much, he even tried some gross stuff, until I said it hurt too much and he stopped." Then sitting up, she spoke as if she were trying to justify her father's actions. "See, Les, that was the thing about him. In a way he was genuinely gentle; it made me feel like he really cared for me. I remember one time asking him if all parents did this with their kids. He said they did, but I shouldn't speak about it because there were some who were not as fortunate as I was and it would hurt their feelings. What bloody crap! I can't believe I was so. . . . never mind."
"What about the F.L.E. classes? You must have heard something about sexual abuse, didn't you?"
"We were never allowed into an environment where morality was openly discussed. Remember last year? I spent the period in Activity, not F.L.E. No church, nothing that might tip us off."
"It wasn't your fault, Barb," Leslie said emphatically after a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence. She was quite sure this was the first time the girl had shared these secrets with a peer.
"No, it sure-as-crap wasn't. He was a smooth bastard, a real professional. I hope he burns in Hell, Mom too. Fortunately he wasn't too smart: I don't know how he could think it all would have stayed a secret forever. Maybe he was going to scamper. After that faked picture of you last year things changed, maybe he . . . . I don't know any more."
"What are you doing now, Barb? I mean, are you still talking to someone?"
"Yes, Maggie and I are both seeing a shrink in Roanoke once a week. He's great and has helped us a lot. Jen and Maddie are seeing someone, too; they have their own head-doctor near them." She stopped and thought of her two sisters, smiling. "Maddie's really looking forward to having Grace and Tom nearby."
"Barb," Leslie said quietly, and after a long pause, curious about one other item. "Do you know why Terri killed herself? Did she leave any note?"
The redhead gave Leslie an annoyed look, but answered anyway. "Daddy got her pregnant, but I guess just about everyone already suspected it."
"Sorry," Leslie said, and meant it. Barbara nodded soberly.
"Our parents will pay," she said grimly. "The UK is trying to extradite them since their activities began there. But the real reason is that they know the D.A. is going to ask for the death penalty for my father, since the grand jury found him responsible for Terri's death, even though it was a suicide. I think it was an emotionally driven decision, and probably won't work, but there's always hope." A gleam of evil flashed over her face; Leslie saw and felt the chill it put into the room. And Barbara saw her shrink back a little. "Don't look at me like that, Leslie Burke. He raped, abused, molested and killed one of my sisters. SHE WAS THIRTEEN, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
Suddenly in tears, Leslie moved over and hugged her guest, and it was accepted, though a bit stiffly. "If there's anything I can do…"
"Just drop it, Les, now that you know everything," Barbara snapped abruptly, pulling away. That barrier - the DO NOT ENTER zone – had been entered, and probably too soon.
A short time later, Barbara took out her cell phone, called her sister and asked if she was available the following Friday. While they were speaking, Leslie scurried down to the kitchen for some snacks and a breather from the intense situation. When she returned, her guest was acting putout.
"Maggie said thanks, but she isn't available. She has an engagement. Sorry." Then moving on, Barbara rallied and ran through the list of invitees. "Ok, so far we have: you, Grace Jacobs, Lisa and Carol Silliard and Kayla. . . ." She sat up straight. ". . . . and me, the substitute sex expert." The tease made Leslie feel better and as the plans progressed, the brief awkwardness disappeared. Still, she was concerned about how quickly and easily Barbara could turn one emotion off and another on.
The invitations the two girls put together on Leslie's laptop featured a combination punk and athletic motifs – running, dancing, swimming and soccer – sports they were all involved in. They would be delivered at school Monday, discreetly, of course, for the Friday night event. The only acceptance glitch they expected was the Silliard twins who could not spend the night as they had an out-of-town dance competition to attend early the next morning. Their friends wondered about the girls even more when they had discovered Mikey and Tom were both traveling with them and their parents to the event.
"Those two might be more expert than you," opined Leslie.
"Too true. They have an odd arrangement, those four."
Both girls rolled their eyes and went back to planning.
A couple weeks earlier, when Leslie approached her parents with the request to host a party, Bill and Judy were ecstatic. Their daughter had typically shunned such events, but high school was making her more sociable, they guessed, and every assistance was offered. In the earliest stages of planning for the event, Barbara had suggested that Leslie take up her parent's offer to go all-out, and Leslie immediately agreed. Never one to flaunt her parents wealth, it took a while before she asked for what amounted to an unlimited budget, but again, Bill and Judy happily handed her a credit card and told her to, "Try to keep it under. . . ." The figure was well beyond what even Barbara had imagined extravagant, and she had a very high threshold of what she considered excessive. So with only six girls, the expenses would be a non-issue.
"Let's have a limo pick up everyone, Les. They'll freak!"
Leslie smiled, nodded and made a note.
"Cater the food?"
Another note.
"Can your mother take us to the Party Store?"
"If she can't, there are cabs," Leslie said offhandedly.
"Live band?"
"Don't think that one will fly. Maybe in the summer when we can go outside," Leslie laughed.
"We're partying here more often, girl! Let's see. . . .How about a couple strippers?"
"Male. . . ." The girls giggled. ". . . .Or female?" and then they pretended to gag, but Leslie made no note this time. Seeing this, Barbara suggested they hire one of their fellow students. By the look the redhead gave, it was obvious who she was suggesting.
"Maybe next year. We have to show some restraint!" she lamented.
"What about games? I keep hearing about a wild game of Truth or Dare a few years ago."
"Jeez, yes! That was a surprise party we threw for Jess's twelfth birthday at the Jacobs. It was a little intense three years ago, but might be interesting to play a PG-rated version."
"R-rated would suit you better, I think!"
Leslie stuck her tongue out and then went back to planning games, music, and food. But in the back of her head, she thought it might be an excellent suggestion.
Nearing nine, Judy called to the girls that Jesse was on his way up. Leslie beamed and hid her notebook. After greeting her boyfriend, Barbara watched the two interact. She was spending the night and felt no inclination to make herself scarce. But Jesse was only stopping by to invite Leslie and her family for dinner Sunday and departed after a lengthy kiss. When he was gone, Leslie flopped down onto the bed dramatically and sighed.
"You got it bad, girl!" Barbara laughed. "You ought to videotape yourself when he comes in the room. I don't think you realize how you change."
But Barbara's words went unnoticed. For a minute, Leslie lay with her eyes closed and thought about her and Jesse together. It took a while for her heart to calm and remember she had a guest. Sitting up, she saw Barbara regarding her with a mixture of envy and amusement.
"Les, do you keep a calendar of your cycle. . . .When you have your period?"
Nodding, she pointed to her desk where a small pocket calendar lay; her guest walked over and picked it up.
"Let me guess. . . . 'S' is for start and 'E' is for end, right?"
Leslie nodded again and then watched as Barbara picked up a pen and made a mark.
"What did you do?"
Her answer was seeing the calendar fly through the air and land on the bed next to her. Barbara pointed at it and mimed for her to read.
"What's the 'O' for?"
"It should be an 'H' for horny, but an 'O' for ovulate is probably safer for public documents like that. My wonderful mother used to call that time of my cycle the Horny Hormones, when we ovulate. You've never heard that?"
"I – I think Mom sorta hinted at it a couple times. She called it the opposite of PMS."
"Yeah, that's it. The hormones that make you ovulate also make you more fertile, and horny, so you're mind and body are most interested in sex when you're most fertile. It's one of those evolutionary things we'll learn about in biology. I bet if you track your feelings for a few months you'll see it happens about the same time each cycle, just like PMS. And based on your blank expression, flushed skin tone, heavy breathing, and the way your hands were all over Jess, I'd say it's a good bet you're ovulating now."
"Shitake mushrooms! Do guys have the same thing?" Leslie asked seriously.
Barbara howled in laughter. "Of course, but theirs starts with puberty and ends with death!"
A floor below, Bill and Judy heard the girls laughing uproariously and figured it had to be due to a conversation about boys.
The stretch limo that toured around Lark Creek the following Friday drew much attention. Aside from funerals and weddings, which never took place on Friday evenings, the luxury car was seldom seen. But the most surprised were the girls being picked up. The chauffer dutifully stopped at each of the invitee's house and announced that their ride awaited. This extra touch, Leslie was told, only required a modest tip to the driver. As everyone was expecting Leslie's parents' SUV, the astonishment was all the greater. Inside, Leslie and Barbara waited to greet each guest, the redhead videotaping each girl as they walked in astonishment to the car.
When all six girls were inside, Leslie ordered haughtily: "Driver, tour the city"; everyone laughed at the irony, even the chauffeur. The excursion took all of ten minutes, including a slow circumnavigation of the high school. As they proceeded, everyone tried out the television, phones, and even attempted to get into the locked liquor cabinet. Then they headed back to Leslie's house amid laughing, giggling and loud talking.
Judy and Bill formally greeted the limo in front of the house; but that, Leslie assured her guests, was the last they would see of the adults. "Unless they appear to say goodnight." She escorted everyone around the side of the building and to the back door, explaining how she once had to strip naked and clean skunk musk off herself after she and Jesse had been sprayed. The story evoked further laughter and excited chatter about 'stripping' outside – even Grace, normally straight-laced, thought this amusing.
Inside, the guests found the large basement decorated and a variety of modern music playing, a sparkling mirrored globe rotating from the ceiling and tables of drinks, games, and party favors. To the side, the caterer was preparing for dinner. Leslie showed everyone where they could store their overnight things and then took them on a tour of her house, ending in her room. Grace and Barbara had visited before, but the others were surprised by the modesty of their friend's home: It was large, but not ostentatious. A short time later, Judy called up that the caterer was ready and the girls retired to the basement to begin the party.
Dinner was informal and the girls sat around the monitor watching a DVD of 1950 & 1960 television commercials, howling at the archaic, stiff, black and white advertisements. The DVD also contained a selection of favorite TV shows from the period. For the most part, the girls found the material more amusing than boring, something Leslie had been a little concerned about since you never know exactly how a group's collective appreciation of humor will manifest itself.
After dining, the girls moved to the unfinished part of the basement temporarily and changed into their nightclothes while the dinner service was cleared. Lisa and Carol sat glumly, bemoaning the fact that they could not stay the night until Makayla distracted them by asking about Irish dancing and begging them to do a couple steps. In minutes, all the girls were trying, but only Leslie showed any aptitude with a Jig. As they wrapped up the dancing, Barbara and Makayla started to pull out cards and place chairs around the large card table in the next room, but everyone's attention was focused on the sliding glass door that led to the deck. Someone was knocking quietly. Leslie pulled open the curtain and five male faces with wide eyes and big grins peered in at them.
Some of the girls started screaming but Leslie shushed them quickly. Then opening the door, Jesse, Mikey, Tom, Billy, and another ninth grader they knew, Kyle, ran into the house. In the background you could hear the twins exclaiming "Party crashers!" But they didn't sound at all upset.
"Hey!" Jesse greeted Leslie, breathless from the sprint over. "We can't stay long…" Surveying the other girls in their nightclothes, Jesse paused. "Well, maybe we can stay a little while…"
"No way, Jess! If Bill or Judy came down here they'd freak out."
"Listen to your. . . ." Billy started to warn Jesse. Then seeing Makayla in only an old, worn shirt, decided hanging around a few more minutes would be ok, and he sat to watch what would happen.
The girls had gathered on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, partially covered by a couple blankets, and the boys sat on the couch and chairs. Little conversations soon broke out and in minutes, everyone was comfortable again. Mikey and Tom would act out by trying to sneak up next to Lisa and Carol, but one of the other girls would shoo them away.
Upstairs, Bill and Judy had just put Jimmy to bed and were lounging in the living room. It was obvious that Jesse and some other boys had joined the party, but Judy knew they could not stay long. Mary Aarons had promised to keep them segregated after nine, and it was already eight-forty. And by the bursts of laughter, it was pretty obvious nothing inappropriate was happening. Still, Judy looked at Bill.
"Think you should look in on them?"
"No," he replied, smiling. "But since you won't let me finish my book until I do, I'll have a quick peek." Moving his wife's feet from his lap, Bill rose and quietly started walking down the stairs. At the bottom, he slipped around a partition, out of sight, and tried to listen to three conversations going on at once. The topics changed as the kids – the boys in particular – became more rambunctious.
Much of the chatter was typical teenage girl-boy bravado: friendly insults and brash claims. Then a voice, which Bill could only identify as not being Jesse's, rose above the others: "...I'll pull your pubic hair, if you do..." Stunned, Bill didn't hear the reply clearly, but there was no obvious tone of indignation or offense in the response.
Have things changed that much in twenty years? He asked himself.
Repositioning, Bill found a spot where he could see most of the kids without being obviously visible. Jesse and Leslie were next to each other, sitting on the floor, poking each other playfully, but the rest of the kids were sitting apart. Even Tom and Mikey, he noted, had not joined their current girlfriends on the floor.
Being the hostess has its privileges, I guess.
Returning up the stairs, Bill was far more concerned about what he would say to his wife than what he had heard, but his face gave away the bind he was in.
"Uh-oh! What's going on down there?" asked Judy, frowning.
"Nothing. . . .physical, just an unexpectedly bold comment from one of the boys. . . .No, not Jess."
"What did he say?" Judy persisted, and her husband told her. "Oh. . . ." She looked at the clock. "Jesse has to have his friends home in less than ten minutes, I guess they're all safe."
Surprised, Bill made the mistake of asking whether Judy wanted him to check one more time, just to be sure. She said yes.
The second trip downstairs revealed nothing further, except one of the boys' claim that, "Billy Eccles has a boner," was false. "It's just my belt, see!" he said, laughing. A couple of the girls squealed and a couple sounded disappointed. Bill Burke couldn't tell which group his daughter was in, and returned to the living room telling Judy all was well. A minute later they heard the girls calling out their goodbyes to the party crashers as they left.
"Ready for bed?" Bill asked.
"It's only nine!" Judy turned up the volume of the Baby Minder and went back to editing her book. Bill sat and lay his hand on his wife's abdomen, waiting for the baby to kick.
"Jess! Go now, please! You'll get in trouble," begged Leslie.
"All right. Wanna do something tomorrow?"
"Of course, but I'll have to clean up this mess first. The afternoon's free."
Jesse pursed his lips, and looked into Leslie's eyes. A muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched. "It's a date. . . . But I have to go to church at three. . . . For confession."
"No problem. It will. . . . Jesse Aarons!" she whispered, pulling him close. "You went to Confession last week. Have you been a naughty boy?"
Unable to hold back, Jesse snorted out a laugh. "Been thinking about you too much, I guess."
He kissed Leslie and turned to the other boys. "Come on you guys, let's go." And leading his slightly dejected party-crashers away, headed back into the dark.
"Les, what were they doing here?" Makayla asked, mostly in surprise and embarrassment.
Entranced by Jesse's comment, Leslie took a few seconds to answer. "Uh, they were out playing Laser Tag. Forget them; where were we?"
Gathering up all the pillows and cushions from the room, they spread blankets and sleeping bags in a front of the hearth, made themselves comfortable, and began chatting. Lisa and Carol, who had to leave in an hour, continued to mope and act dull, but when Barbara noticed this, she elbowed Leslie and made an announcement.
"Ok girls, we have time for a round of Truth or Dare before Lisa and Carol have to go!"
Grace groaned, but the others cheered happily and the twins instantly broke out of their malaise. They were in their element now.
"Rules?" asked Carol.
"None!" her sister exclaimed.
Grace piped in quickly: "Nothing gross, you guys." Half the girls laughed, the other half looked disappointed, but Grace persisted. "I mean. . . .no, uh, lesbian stuff."
Barbara cursed and made like she was disappointed, which drew another chorus of ribald laughter.
"Ok, no one has to do anything with Grace," Carol conceded, but in a rather disingenuous tone. "Don't worry, we'll keep it R-rated."
Following more cutting-up and laughter, straws were drawn and Lisa was chosen to go first. She looked around at her friends and settled on Makayla.
"Sorry, Kayla, but we know the least about you." Lisa drew a piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it. A couple of the girls saw it was a print out of the survey many of them had received emails about late the previous year. Makayla saw it too, and groaned.
"Don't worry, we're nice to new-comers. Truth or dare, Kayla?"
"Uh, truth, I guess."
"Have you ever gone skinny-dipping?"
"No, never," Makayla answered smugly. Lisa's return gaze said there would be further questions from the survey on the next round.
"My turn!" Carol said happily. "Les, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Has Jess ever touched your…you, I mean, has he ever gotten to third base?"
"Not really. . . . No."
"Crap, then there's no hope for any of us if those two haven't done it yet," Carol lamented. The others agreed with exaggerated gloomy expressions.
"Ok, Gracie, your turn."
Still a little irritated at Carol for suggesting the game, Grace chose her.
"Carol, truth or dare?"
"Dare."
The girls howled.
"Ok, I dare you to. . . . show us any part of your body, normally hidden by clothing, that my brother has touched."
The dare was met with a mixture of gasps and giggles, and more than one comment about how Grace had no business limiting the scope of the dares given her. But Carol only rolled her eyes and lifted up her top to expose her chest to the others. Another chorus of cheers met the slightly blushing dancer, and she took her time tucking things back into their proper place. Then she smiled at Grace. "Just remember, what goes around..."
Grace laughed and cut her off. "You'll be pretty disappointed if you give me a dare like that." That brought forth more laughter from everyone, even the Silliards.
The game went on until ten, when the twins had to leave, and as the evening progressed turned into all six girls talking about their most awkward moments of adolescence. Leslie won the award for most embarrassed by consensus when she told of how, the previous spring, Jesse had pointed out to her that she had blood all over the back of her shorts, her period having started a day early.
"I'd think that would bother Jess more than you, Les."
"No, he's ok with that stuff. He said living with five females broke him in. But I had to, uh, improvise something for a pad because we were out hiking."
"What did you find out in the middle of nowhere?" Makayla asked, wondering if her host had scraped moss or dry leaves together.
"It wasn't too hard. Whenever we hike, we carry extra stuff. Jess had a clean pair of socks so I borrowed them."
"Go Leslie!" Barbara shouted.
"Go Jess's socks!" Makayla added.
After the twins had left, the other girls went back to talking about being teenage females. They shared a number of personal stories about growing up, particularly ones involving false information they'd been told concerning adolescence. Leslie noticed that Barbara said little, and not knowing what Makayla knew about her situation, did not press her for anything she did not freely volunteer. But that was made moot around eleven when Makayla said she had something to ask. By her hushed tone and red face, it was obvious it was not going to be a question about general knowledge.
"I was wondering, when I was six or seven, before I was adopted by the Flynn's, my foster brother would, uh, touch me. Is that. . . .normal? I mean, do brothers do that to their sisters?"
The other three girls shouted "No" in unison, but the answer only upset Makayla more.
Barbara looked at Leslie and Grace, and then spoke: "Kayla, it's not normal for any family member, and you did nothing wrong. You didn't ask him to do it, did you? I didn't think so. How old was he?"
"About fifteen."
"Bloody wanker!" Barbara cried and put an arm around her. Makayla was now familiar with British-speak and just nodded. "You could report him to the police. . . . Why not? You might be doing him a favor!"
"Huh?"
"Just trust me on this one, Kayla; nipping someone like that in the bud could save a lot of other people pain. Look, just think about it. Even if it was an anonymous letter to CPS, er, Child Protective Services, it might scare him enough to help. He must be in his early twenties now. . . .God I hate men sometimes."
Shocked by the intensity of Barbara's conviction, and the lack of surprise on Leslie and Grace's face, Makayla understood why she was so passionate.
"This happened to you too, Barb, didn't it?"
"Yes," she whispered bitterly. "You could say that. But it was my father, not my stepbrother or foster-brother. He sexually abused me and three of my sisters."
Grace, well into tears, ventured a question. "Did he do. . . . I mean, more than just . . . . pictures?"
"Oh, yes, pretty much everything." She then went on to give Grace and Makayla a much abbreviated and censored version of what had happened leading up to the arrest of her parents and Terri's suicide. Their newest friend sat in silence, stunned; Grace wept. Following a few awkward minutes of quiet, Barbara began to talk again, but about far happier and light subjects.
But the fun of the evening had been seriously squelched and it took until the next morning for the girls to perk up again. Leslie didn't mind, however; it was not exactly the type of party she had planned, and most would consider it a flop, but it had obviously done Barbara and Makayla a lot of good, talking about their troubles. The two spent much of the morning talking alone, until they were picked-up mid-morning by the limo. Their goodbyes and hugs gave their host hope that both, Barbara particularly, were further along on the road to healing.
Grace hung around until noon, helping Leslie clean-up the basement. Unlike the other two, she remained sullen and quiet, but the only explanation she would give Leslie was that she was dreading leaving Lark Creek in three months.
"But look what we're going to do together before then, Gracie! In two weeks we're off on our mystery trip; Jess and I promise to take you and Tom camping and hiking on the Boone property; the musical is in six weeks and Judy and Bill offered to host the cast party - and I expect you to be there. . . ." These encouragements appeared to raise Grace's spirits and by the time her father picked her up, she was her old self again and gave Leslie a long, warm embrace goodbye.
"Growing up kinda sucks sometimes, you know, Les?"
"It has lots of advantages, too, Gracie," Leslie said, thinking about seeing Jesse soon.
Following lunch, Jesse and Leslie sat in his family room and chatted with May until she left with her mother to go to a meeting with her spring soccer team. Jesse heard about the heavy conversations at the party the night before and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend in mock comfort, then pouted when she didn't show any appreciation.
"Before she left this morning, Gracie said life sucks sometimes."
"Maybe, I guess. Everyone has bad times, Les. We've had a great few years together but there were times things sucked, too."
Leslie snuggled back under Jesse's arm and sighed. "Yeah, we've both done some stupid things, haven't we?"
"You more than me, Les," kidded Jesse, receiving an elbow in the ribs in return. But he turned and put his other arm around Leslie and kissed her – and she responded, thinking of the conversation she'd had with Barbara eight days earlier.
She was right! There are times when I enjoy kissing Jess, and then there are times when I can't get enough. . . .
Breaking away from the kiss, Jesse asked, "What're you thinking?"
"Oh, uh, just about us. . . . You and me."
Jesse laughed. "'Us' usually is you and me. What about 'us'?"
She kissed him. "I don't know, maybe. . . . Jess, last week at play practice, Mr. Stamper gave me information about an acting class in Roanoke run by some Hollywood people. Do you think he's suggesting I'm not good enough for this part?"
"No, he probably wants you to. . . . I don't know, maybe get exposed to other teachers. When is it?"
"Right after school gets out. It's two whole weeks. I don't suppose you'd like to go, too?"
Grimacing, Jesse shook his head. "No way! You be the actor, I'll just watch from the audience and bring you flowers."
"Ok," Leslie smiled, giving Jesse a quick peck on the cheek. "I look forward to it."
Settling back down, half reclined on the couch, Jesse told Leslie that Ellie and Toby were coming up for dinner the next day.
"He's still in a couple casts, but Ell says he's getting better every day."
"I'm so happy. Do you miss your sister?" she asked, knowing full well he did, and very much.
"Um-hmm. Brenda's opened up some, but it's not the same."
"What's going on with her and the Army guy? Are they going out?"
Jesse took a minute to answer, his right hand playing absently with a button on Leslie's blouse.
"Yeah, I guess so. She sees him after school almost every day, and he's over here a lot. Mom and Dad still aren't real happy about her seeing a soldier, though."
"I can understand that. Is he coming to dinner tomorrow?"
"Yep, bringing a couple pies, too."
"Mmmm. . . . Jess, what are you doing with your hand?" One of his fingers had abandoned the button and was gently poking Leslie's navel, and softly touching the skin around it, though he didn't realize the effect it was having. Leslie didn't mind, but they weren't in a location that would be considered safe for exploring. It took her friend a few seconds to answer.
"I like the feel of your skin. You're so soft," he said quietly, almost in awe.
"Oh. You know, Jess, some places are softer than others. Should we . . . . go some place more private?" she added breathlessly, boldly, all the while knowing exactly how Jesse would respond.
His finger withdrew. "D-Dad's home and. . . ." He stopped and kissed her deeply, then moved apart a little. "This is one of those times when it wouldn't be a good idea to be alone."
Leslie looked at him and nodded; still having a promise to keep, at least until April 11. She decided to tease her boyfriend instead. "And I don't want you to have to go off to Confession every Saturday afternoon." Smiling impishly and blushing, she got up and turned on the TV. "Let's watch that show you like. What's it called?"
"How It's Made. Channel 42."
Bill Burke sat silently as Jack Aarons read from his notes. It was early morning at the diner and one of the few times there were any significant number of people in the old converted rail car. The presence of others, however, was not disruptive this time as he considered what his friend was saying.
I should have known...
"You need to diversify more, Bill. Jeez, you have eighty percent of your liquid assets in one damn bank. If that bank were to go under you know what would happen?"
"Isn't it insured? That F.D.I.C. thing?" asked Bill lamely.
"Yep, one hundred thousand dollars, that's all. And the government has ten years to pay you back." Jack paused to let his words sink in. "Get yourself down to Roanoke - today - and move your money around. The way things are heading with the economy, tomorrow may be too late."
Bill nodded and took Jack's notes, surveying them briefly.
"Thanks, Jack. What about our little project?" Another small pile of papers was pushed across the table. Bill reviewed them while he sipped his coffee and gnawed on a bagel. "Wow! That much?"
"Yep."
"Ok, and you still want to do the . . . . General contracting, you call it? If you screw up I'll have to fire you."
Jack Aarons produced a rare smile. "I'll take my chances, and Jess and I will be doing most of the work."
"Good, then it's set. You'll start as soon as the weather gets better?"
"No, I have to get the access road started as soon as possible, and the surveyor back in, too."
"Ok. Say, have you heard from the county about the kids' land?"
"Not yet, but the surveyor will know and I'll ask when I call. I have to run," he said shortly, tossing a five-dollar bill on the table, which Bill matched. "Get your ass to town today, this morning, if possible." And with a quick handshake, Jack Aarons was off to work.
Revision 1.1, June, 2008
