The New Life

a novel by Mark Robert Whitten

Chapter 6

They made their way through the darkening forest, Leslie allowing Jess to keep up and only trotting ahead when they at last came within view of the creek. Moonlight glinted off the surface of the murky gloom below, winking at them as if in secret promise.

The magic bridge was elaborate, a pavestone work with golden rails. Leslie ran on ahead, eager to try it, but Jess stopped her with a tug on her arm.

"I don't know about this," he warned. "What if something happens?"

She frowned. "Like what?"

"I-I dunno. Maybe it'll fall apart or something."

She gave him a dubious look. He didn't think much of his own argument but he didn't know what else to say. She handed him the book. "Then hold this, in case I fall in."

Jess gripped the book, wincing at her sardonic tone. The thought of her snide comment coming true didn't bring him any pleasure; the mere thought of his best friend tumbling into the dark, icy waters was terrifying. He wanted to object but she had already started across. She moved slowly, the wind ruffling her hair as she stepped towards the center of the bridge. She looked back then and smiled. Assured that the bridge wouldn't give way under her, he reluctantly returned her smile and urged her onward. She beckoned him to come and his smile evaporated. Jess didn't want her to think him a coward but he didn't think the bridge was really safe for two people. Jess thought to take the rope back. He liked the feeling of flying through the air. Maybe Leslie would appreciate his suggestion. He considered the book she gave him. He didn't want to lose it on the way over, and he really didn't think he could make it over the creek without dropping it.

Jess sighed, knowing he had no choice.

He had to cross the bridge.

Slowly, hands clutching the book to his quivering chest, he stepped out onto the stone. It held and as he made his way across he began to relax. He was almost at Leslie when he looked out across the water. It seemed so peaceful. He smiled as the wind blew through his hair. He wanted to stand there and listen to the rushing water. Leslie nudged his arm, stealing his attention. He handed the book over and returned his gaze to the creek. It didn't seem so imposing now. He even laughed at it.

He noticed Leslie's confused look and shrugged in explanation before following her as she made her way across the bridge. It seemed so wondrous to him that they never knew it was there. It seemed impossible that they couldn't have seen it. There was an archway at the head of the bridge and as they crossed under it, they stopped to look back. At the top of the arch loomed a golden sign. There were markings on it but the writing made no sense to him. It was all just scribbling. He looked to Leslie for an explanation.

"It says: Nothing Crushes Us."

It sounded good to him, like something a hero would say. He decided to remember that for later.

As they raced home to the sight of the setting sun, Jess laughed. It was only their fifth day since he had met Leslie and everything seemed to have changed. He was happier and stronger and freer than he had ever been. By the end of the week he had learned to sword fight, faced a wicked witch and gotten in and out of more trouble than he ever thought possible. He didn't know what would happen next, but he was sure he was ready.

They entered the house, laughing and talking. Jess was surprised to see father. He was usually wasn't home for supper. He stood like a towering tree, staring down at them.

He did not look pleased.

"Where have you two been?"

Jess and Leslie shared a look. Jess knew Leslie didn't want to tell, and he thought to make an excuse. "We were just—"

Brenda's teasing tone cut in, "You're late for supper." She had a smile on her face that Jess didn't like. His father cleared his throat, calling back his attention.

"Your mother was getting worried."

Jess' gaze found the ground. He mumbled that he was sorry. He knew father didn't like it when he upset mother. He also knew what happened when he became angry with him. Leslie's voice snapped him out of his despair. "It was my fault, Mr. Aarons. I kept him out late."

Jess stared openly at her, his jaw hanging. She clearly didn't know what she was getting herself into. He wanted to tell her to stop, but she had already taken the blame. Father stood there, staring down at Leslie, as if considering what he should do.

Jess already knew what he would decide; he had eaten too many suppers in tears not to know. Suddenly Brenda's smirk made sense.

As Father crossed his arms, Jess shrank back. It was time. Father called him over. He obeyed, trembling with every step. He called Leslie over too. She stopped in front of him and looked to Jess as father spoke. "I don't want you two late for supper anymore."

He saw the book Leslie held and reached for it. She handed it over. He flipped through it, examining the pages. Jess wasn't sure how much his father could read but he knew better than to ask.

After pausing a moment, father closed the book. "Where'd you get this?"

Leslie answered in as meek a voice as he had ever heard from her. "Oh, um, we found it outside, near the creek," she lied. Jess knew she didn't want to go on at length about Mrs. Vanderholt. He was relieved knowing they were in enough trouble as it was.

Father looked at Leslie as if weighing her words in his mind like a sack of grain. He handed the book to Jess and told him to put it away. Jess nodded and moved to fetch the ladder and Leslie tried to follow but father caught her by the arm. "Not you, young lady. I think you have something to learn about the rules of this house."

Jess could practically hear her swallow as she gazed up into father's stern eyes. "Please, Mr. Aarons," she begged, tugging to free her arm, "I-I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

His expression remained stern, his grip solid. "Then maybe next time you'll be mindful of when we eat supper, young lady."

He said no more then, just sat down and hauled Leslie across his lap. She pressed her hands against his leg and tried to push herself up but his big hand on her back gently forced her back down, pinning her in place. Jess winced as Leslie grunted with the effort of her struggle. Jess' eyes involuntarily flicked to her upturned bottom as father raised his callused hand.

The entire room was quiet, everyone sitting around the table, waiting patiently for father to do his job. Only Brenda's snicker broke the silence.

As father's hand swung down, Jess swallowed hard, turning away from the sight.

A muffled pop filled the room and then Jess heard Leslie's sharp gasp. He knew father's hand had just swatted her behind and that it was only beginning. The second smack made her cry out. Jess flinched at the sound. He felt a dark chill run through him as he busied himself with positioning the ladder, trying not to look back at Leslie. Jess closed his eyes as her cries grew louder with each successive pop heating her backside.

The ladder in position, he turned to glance back at his friend. Her scrawny form was sprawled across father's lap; she was struggling futilely against his firm grip, as his free hand landed sharp smacks against her upturned rump. Jess turned away from the distressing sight, just as father's calloused palm landed another hard slap on her tender rear. She cried out again, kicking her spindly legs and gasping desperately at what Jess knew was searing pain just beginning to flare across her backside.

As father gave her bottom several successive swats, her yelps dissolved into long howls and she clutched the sides of father's leg for support. She broke into tears, begging him to stop, promising to behave but Jess knew his father didn't hold with promises made during punishment. He kept up his handiwork and as Leslie's pleas crumbled into howls and helpless sobs, Jess climbed the rickety ladder to his room. He could hear the spanking continuing from there and as each muffled pop sent Leslie into a new fit of howling, Jess lowered his head and covered his ears, trying to block out the sound.

He pressed his hands tighter against his head as he heard Leslie begin to cry his name between swats.

Jess knew he could do nothing to help; Leslie needed to learn some respect and this was the only way father knew to teach her. He slumped down onto his pallet and stared at the book in his trembling hands. As the sounds of Leslie's punishment floated to him, Jess trembled. He knew his turn would come right after hers and he didn't like to consider how much it would hurt. He ran his hands over the smooth leather cover of The Greatest Adventure, he silently wishing he could read.

It might help him to forget what was happening to Leslie.

Leslie had promised to teach him to read, but he wasn't so sure she would want to keep her promise or if she would even remember it after her punishment.

At last there came a great pop and one final cry. Jess held his breath waiting for the next. It didn't come. It was over. He let out his breath in a rush. When Jess was called, he came down quickly, to the sound of Leslie's whining sobs. Mother was holding her close, gently rubbing her back as she wept in her arms. Jess flinched when he saw how bright his best friend's face had become and he shuddered to think how red her bottom might be and how sore his own was about to become.

His turn across fathers lap was about as much as he expected and as they both stood crying, rubbing their aching bottoms, father made them both promise never to be late for supper again. They both nodded and as they sat down for supper, Jess winced. He saw in the firelight Leslie's red face glistening with tears and knew she felt what he was feeling.

Father sat down at the head of the table and warned them that next time he would use the willow switch. Jess' blood ran cold at that; as bad as their punishment had been, he knew a switching would have been much worse.

Everyone began the meal quietly, afraid to talk. They all kept their heads down; even Brenda dared say nothing to upset father.

Jess and Leslie wept silently throughout dinner, eating like birds, each afraid to upset father anymore than they already had. Jess didn't even look at Leslie again until well into the night, when he watched her from his pallet. She lay turned away from him. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or still crying. It occurred to him that she probably never had a spanking before and that the experience was a bit shocking.

His own bottom still throbbed and he knew it would be sore for another day at least. The only comfort he felt was that perhaps Leslie had gained some respect for father's rules.

Well, he thought as he rubbed his smoldering behind, lesson learned.

* * * * *

The next morning was unusually quiet. Jess watched Leslie carefully, searching for any trace of tears. There were none, but she wasn't quite as boisterous as usual.

"Nothing like a spanking to take the spunk out of a girl," he mumbled.

She turned to him with a questioning frown. "What?"

He shook his head, his cheeks reddening. "Nothing, I was just… wondering if you wanted to have breakfast."

She gave him a big Leslie-smile. "Sure." She lead him to the ladder going down first without hesitation.

Jess felt relief wash over him. Leslie was fine. He wanted to ask about her bottom, to see if she was alright, but mother beat him to it.

"I'm fine," Leslie assured her. Jess was more than glad to hear it.

It seemed that it had all been a strange dream, the spankings, the crying, all of it. Leslie seemed fine now. His own rump still stung and he was certain he had gotten punished. The way Leslie smiled though made him think she hadn't.

As they sat down to eat, he watched her carefully and as her bottom brushed the bench, Leslie cringed. Jess smiled in satisfaction. She had been spanked after all. Jess and Leslie leaned across the table to talk. They kept their voices low as everyone else talked about different things.

"How's your bottom?"

She winced. "Sore!" she whispered. "How's yours?"

He told her it felt the same. He fiddled his cider cup. "So… you're not mad?"

"About what?"

He accepted a plate from May Belle and waited till she walked away before speaking again. "About your spanking."

Leslie frowned. "Why would I be mad?" She stirred her plateful of eggs and shrugged. "I broke the rules and I got punished."

Jess was relieved to hear her casual acceptance. He didn't even know if she would still be around after the spanking she had received. Father had never been overly friendly with Leslie and Jess feared she would run off into the night after the punishment she received.

As they ate breakfast, Jess considered talking to her about what happened. He couldn't think of exactly what to say, but as time went by, he realized there wasn't much he could tell her. As they ate, mother gathered up a bundle of clothes and with Ellie's help, headed to the river to wash them. They left Brenda behind to take charge of May Belle.

As Jess finished eating, Leslie stepped away from the table. "I think we should get our chores done now."

Brenda cleared some plates and came up behind her. "You better hurry, too," she teased, a wicked grin stealing onto her smug face, "Or father will give you both a repeat performance."

She slapped Leslie's rear, making her jump. She grabbed her behind with a yelp. Jess shot out of his seat. Brenda met his glare with open challenge. "Careful, now," she warned, raising a finger to mark her point. "You don't want father finding out you attacked me—especially after being late for supper last night."

He clenched his fists but stood rooted in place, glaring at her smirk. Brenda was right. He'd be in for another whipping and Brenda would probably tell father it was all Leslie's fault, so she'd get one too. Jess was just about to scream something hateful at her when Leslie grabbed his arm and pulled him along, toward the door.

When they were outside, he wrenched his arm away from her. "Why'd you do that?" He didn't mean to yell at her; he just didn't understand why she wouldn't let him defend her.

"You'd only make it worse, Jess—for both of us."

He heaved a sigh. She was right. He didn't know what to do. He thought about telling father, but he figured he would only get a swat for being petty and bothering him with nonsense. It also occurred to him that perhaps he was being petty, that Brenda was just playing around. He still didn't like anyone hurting his friend. Still, he knew Leslie was right; there was nothing he could do. Jess let out a deep breath and with it his anger. He nodded his agreement and walked off towards the pond. Leslie strolled along by his side.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as they shuffled along. "So, you're really okay?"

"I guess."

"I… thought you'd be mad."

She shielded her eyes against the sun as she glanced over. "At you?"

"No." He knelt in the grass beside the pond. The coolness beneath the shade of the nearby trees calmed him. "I thought you'd be mad at my father." The sunlight shimmered on the surface of the pond as he ran his hand through the dark water.

"Oh," she said sinking down beside him. He noticed how careful she was not to sit back on her heels as she leaned out over the pond. She brushed back her wheat-colored hair and rinsed her slender hands a bit. "Well, I was a little mad—at first."

As much as she'd cried, he imagined she was more than 'a little mad.'

"But you're not angry now?"

The wind whistled through the maple trees, blowing her golden hair across her face. She shook it back into place and flashed him a smile. "I had a lot of time to think about why he did what he did. I thought about what it meant."

He nodded, not having any idea what she was talking about.

As she gazed into the pond, Leslie spoke, her voice becoming soft and solemn. "I've never actually been spanked before." Jess glanced at her, surprised she had admitted it. He didn't say anything, just listened as she went on. "I couldn't sleep for about an hour after we went to bed. I just stayed awake, crying and thinking." She picked at some grass and looked away. Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear it. "I thought maybe we deserved it."

Jess put his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe I did, Leslie, but you didn't."

He meant it too. If he could have taken it for her, he would have. To his continuing surprise, she shook her head. "We were late for supper." Leslie turned to look at him directly. She had that look, like she was trying to find words to explain something. "The way I figure it, you're father works very hard, right?" Jess nodded. Sometimes he couldn't believe how hard his father worked. "Well, because we were late, he had to wait for his supper. On top of that, he had to take what energy he had left after a full day of work and use it to discipline the two of us." His face went red at the memory as Leslie skipped a stone across the pond. Jess watched it skim the surface and sink after three hits. Leslie cleared her throat. "He had to wait for us to come home and then finish with us before he could eat." She gave him a sad look. "His supper was probably cold by then."

Jess grunted. He hadn't thought about that. He had assumed that he and Leslie were the only ones made to pay for their being late, but he guessed he was wrong. Leslie sighed. "We cost him a warm meal." She winced as she rubbed her rear. "I guess we deserved to have warm bottoms."

Jess suddenly felt guilty for causing his father so much grief. He never even considered his father's problems at all. "H-His hand was probably really sore too."

Leslie smiled. "As raw as we are right now, I can imagine how sore it must have been."

Jess smiled back and tossed a stone into the pond. It sank along with his foolish old beliefs. He was being selfish, he now knew. Jess didn't think his father's callused hands could feel much pain but he considered that they might be sore after all. He never thought much about the nature of punishment, just how to avoid it. That father would take the time to provide it told him more than he ever realized. His estimation of his father raised a little and his respect for Leslie increased greatly.

Getting whipped by someone else's father wasn't something most people could handle, but Leslie was better than that; she had accepted the rules of the house and the punishments for breaking them. It was the price she paid for staying with them and she had clearly decided it was worth it. Jess never understood how she could take something so bad and change it into something good.

Then she made it even better.

"I actually think of it as something of an honor."

"What are you talking about?"

She gave him a tight lipped smile. "Well, does your father spank anyone outside your family?"

"No, of course not; fathers only discipline their own children."

"Well, doesn't that make me part of the family?"

He snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Leslie gave a knowing nod. "Your father honored me by treating me the same as his own." She rubbed her bottom again. "I guess I'm really an Aarons now."

Jess couldn't argue with that. If you were disciplined, you were an Aarons. If you were sore and tired and stank, you were an Aarons. If you were poor and had no hope of a better life, you were an Aarons. He told Leslie all of it. She laughed and added, "Maybe I should change my name, then."

"To what?" he scoffed.

"Aarons."

Jess beamed. "Leslie Aarons." He liked the sound of that. He liked the idea of Leslie being his sister and he being her brother. Leslie was by far the best sister he ever had. He watched her as she leaned out over the pond, taking a handful of water and cleaning her face and when Jess saw her behind sticking out, he couldn't resist.

Raising his hand, he shouted, "Welcome to the family, Leslie Aarons!" and gave her rump a good-natured swat. She bolted upright with a squeal.

"Jess!" she gasped, rubbing her behind. "Why did you do that?"

He gave her a helpless shrug. "That's what brothers are for!"