Chapter 15 -- Hard Choices

Chapter 15 -- Hard Choices

But I'm trapped by your love.

Brandon was silent and pale on the drive to Rockland. They were to meet Judge Henson in his office near the courthouse. Jonny kept glancing over at him in concern. He was afraid he was rapidly running out of options. He simply had to find the boy's father. And with Hadji not having any luck finding him either . . . He turned the corner and entered the traffic circle that surrounded the county courthouse. Idly, he noticed the ornate building sitting on the corner. A sign on the side simply said IBEW. For a second it didn't register. Then he did a double take. IBEW . . . International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers . . . the electrician's union. Brandon's father had been an electrican. And up here, almost all professional tradespeople were union.

"Brandon, was your father part of the electrician's union? Do you remember?"

The boy looked at him, slightly confused. "Yeah."

"You're sure?"

"Uh huh. His best friends were all part of the union. I've even been in that building before." He pointed toward the union hall, which was now on the other side of the courthouse square. "Why?"

Jonny laughed lightly. "No particular reason. I just saw the building and it occurred to me." The electrician's union was huge. It was almost certain they were computerized. And, if their membership rosters were computerized, he could hack into them. There would be a lot fewer Charles Simmons in the IBEW rosters than there were in the US population as a whole. This might be just the lead he had been looking for. He'd try just as soon as he got home . . . right after he called Jessie.

Jessie woke abruptly, just before dawn. She hadn't slept much. She had tossed and turned all night, and what little sleep she managed to get had been punctuated by restless dreams of Ruben and Jonny. She just hadn't been able to rid herself of them. Memories and visions haunted her like elusive ghosts. Finally, she rose and slipped out of camp. She went down to her spot beside the river where she hoped the sound of the water would help put her mind at rest. But she hadn't been there five minutes before uneasiness gripped her. Ruben knew about her special place, and if he couldn't find her in camp, this is the first place he would look. She knew she couldn't face him yet; too much had happened last night. She needed time to absorb the events of the previous day and to decide what to do. However, she also needed the calming effect of the river to help her think. So she rose and went in search of a place where she would be undisturbed. Not far away, she discovered a huge tree that leaned out over the river. With a little bit of effort she was able to climb it. About twenty feet up, she found a place where the trunk split into three large branches. The split hung out over a rocky section of the river, and the sound of rushing water overpowered almost all of the noise of the jungle. Through a curtain of leaves, she could see the place where she usually sat without being seen herself. This would do. She settled herself comfortably in the crook of the branches and finally released her mind to consider the situation.

She had known Jonny Quest for a long time. And during all of that time they had been friends. They had laughed together . . . and cried . . . and fought. In fact, she couldn't think of much they hadn't shared throughout the years. So, when the time came to make that transition from being friends to ... to . . . she sought for the right word . . . lovers? No, that hadn't happened yet . . . significant others? No, too nineties and not accurate . . . involved? What did that mean anyway? She sighed. Maybe that was the problem . . . they simply didn't know what they were any longer. Neither really knew what to expect from the other and the result was that they ended up getting angry all the time. Maybe the solution was to try and go back to just being friends. It would allow them the freedom to seek out a relationship with someone else, and yet still have that special bond with each other.

But even as the idea occurred to her, she dismissed it. It wouldn't work. She cared too deeply for Jonny to just walk away. That thought triggered a memory of her dream of the night before. It blended with memories of other days . . . other nights. And, suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be at home with Jonny . . . to talk with him, to laugh and spend time together, to hold him, kiss him . . . and maybe . . . maybe even more. She thought about that possibility seriously. The two of them had spent some pretty intense hours together over the last 18 months. At first, after Cairo, she had been so badly hurt that he had been afraid to so much as touch her. After that first kiss in the hospital, he had moved very carefully, and for a long time the most he would do was hold her hand. But slowly, as she improved, he had taken to holding her. Once he had taken that step, things had moved much more quickly. Isolated kisses had led to long necking sessions. Both of them had experimented, each searching for those things that took the other that next step in arousal. And one night, the experimenting had gone much farther than either one of them had anticipated.

It was shortly after they had returned from Paris. The two of them had been home alone . . . their dads had gone to Rockland to pick up some equipment, Estella was in New York coordinating preparations for this excavation, and Hadji had gone with her to attend an information systems conference. The evening had started calmly enough . . . they had been sitting in the family room watching TV. They had curled up on the sofa together and settled back to watch Casablanca. Jonny had put his arm around her, and she had snuggled up and laid her head on his shoulder. After a time, he had begun to nuzzle her hair and his hands started to wander a little. She could have stopped him, but she really hadn't wanted to. Instead, she returned his attention in kind, allowing her hands to rove as well, teasing him gently. He had started to kiss her, gently at first, and then with more and more passion.

Somewhere along the way, they had ended up lying on the sofa. His hands had slid up under her shirt and began caressing her back. She remembered clearly the feel of his fumbling fingers as they had struggled with the fasteners on her bra. She should have stopped him, but instead she had reached back, pushed his fingers out of the way, and unfastened it herself. The inarticulate sound he had made as he kissed her and ran his hand down her bare back excited her in a way nothing else ever had. She had returned his kisses fervently as he gently rolled her over on her back and moved his caresses from her back to her chest. As he had shifted her bra up and used his free hand to caress her bare breast she had experienced a feeling unlike anything she had ever known before. She heard a gasp and a low moan, and some part of her had realized that the sound she heard was coming from her own throat. Just when she'd thought that the sensations couldn't be any more intense, he had lifted her shirt, leaned over and started to suck gently on the nipple of one of her breasts.

In that instant, she had known she didn't want to stop. She had heard herself whispering hoarsely to him, urging him on. She'd also found herself struggling with the zipper on his jeans. She had just gotten them unfastened and had begun to caress the smooth, silky flesh of his erection when IRIS' soft voice had warned that their fathers had just entered the main Compound gate. They had barely managed to get their clothes back in place, hair straightened, and settled side by side on the sofa before Dr. Quest and her dad had arrived. But it must have been obvious that something had been going on, because she caught the sharp look her dad had given both of them. She had often wondered if they would have gone through with it if their fathers had been even an hour later. Looking at it rationally, in the cold light of day, she knew that what they had been about to do would have been incredibly stupid. But she also remembered how desperately she had wanted him. She sighed softly. No, left undisturbed, she didn't think either of them would have stopped.

She sat on her perch, oblivious to everything around her, brooding on that memory. Even now, just thinking of that episode caused her body to respond. She could feel the echo of his hands and mouth along her nerve endings and a growing wetness between her legs. And, abruptly, she knew she wanted him again almost as intensely as she had that night. Why? she asked herself fiercely. Of all of the things I've shared with Jonny Quest, why do I have to remember this one now? But even as she asked herself that question, she knew the answer. Because the next memory that rose to her mind was the feel of Ruben Calderone's hands and mouth on her. And a tiny voice at the back of her mind whispered, What is it that you REALLY want?

Look at what Jonny's done to me! she countered. He could do a lot of things that I could forgive, but starting to see HER again?

You don't believe that, the small voice returned. You know he wouldn't do something like that to you. He loves you. You've sensed it, even if he hasn't said it. There has to be another explanation. You haven't given him a chance. You owe him the opportunity to explain.

No, I don't, she argued. He obviously made his choice a long time ago. He only stuck with me because she was in jail in Egypt and he couldn't get her out. Just look at it. As soon as she got free, she headed straight back for him.

You don't know that, the small voice repeated again. You need to talk to him and find out the truth. Suddenly, down near the edge of the clearing, she caught movement among the leaves and undergrowth. As she watched, Ruben slipped out into the open and moved to stand near the spot where she usually sat. She could see him looking around, searching the surroundings carefully. She sat motionless and watched as he raised a hand, cupped it to his mouth, and called out something. She suspected it was her name, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of the rushing water below her. Why don't you go down to him? that small, inner voice mocked her. If you are so certain that Jonny is treating you so badly, then go down to Ruben and let him ease the hurt. It's what he wants. You know it. You felt it last night in the way he kissed you and the things he said. You could have him right now . . . without any effort at all. Go on. Do it. What are you waiting for?

"No," she said aloud. And, finally, in a choked whisper she added, "No . . . I want Jonny." And as she watched Ruben move away, disappearing into the undergrowth again, she knew what she had to do. The time had come for Jonny and she to talk . . . honestly. She climbed down from her perch and dropped to the ground. This conversation had been on hold long enough. The last time they had gone through this, Jonny had made the call. This time, it was her turn. She set off for camp at a trot, planning how best to get her hands on her mother's cellular phone.

***

Donald Henson was a perceptive man. Part of that came from his own innate sense of people, and part of it came from his years on the bench. He had served as a juvenile court judge in the State of Maine for close to 15 years, and in all that time he could never remember seeing a case like this one. In most of the cases of child neglect he had reviewed, there was the State, who sought to remove a child from an abusive atmosphere, and there was the parent or guardian who was inflicting the abuse. Sometimes the parent was fighting to keep the child, and sometimes they couldn't care less. But in virtually all cases, it was the State and its various governmental agencies that was serving as the vehicle of removal. But not in this case. Here, it was private individuals who were attempting to remove the child from his natural mother. He had deliberately not read the transcripts and background materials before the hearing yesterday because he wanted to get a sense of the emotions and motivations of the two parties before he knew the details. That often helped him to get a clearer picture of what was going on. Privately, he admitted that he had gone into the courtroom somewhat predisposed to hand the boy back over to his mother. What little he had heard about the case simply didn't seem plausible.

But he had been troubled by what he had seen. Alicia Simmons had seemed genuinely distraught at the loss of her son . . . initially. She had said all the right things, and her explanation of the boy's motives and what drove him was an age-old story. He had seen it too many times. But, by the time Dr. Quest was finished, he wasn't so sure anymore. You did not live in Maine for as many years as he had without knowing something about Benton Quest and his family. He was the state's celebrity extraordinaire. He had a reputation for being brilliant, innovative, daring, and somewhat unconventional, with a very high level of personal integrity. It was also common knowledge that after the death of his wife, he had raised his own son and an adopted Indian boy with only the help of his government-assigned body guard. Both kids were known to be very much like their father, and neither one of them had ever been in trouble . . . at least not the conventional kind. He knew there were elements in the State's Department of Child Protective Services that felt that Benton Quest's kids should have been removed from him many years ago for their own safety. Personally, he'd never had much of an opinion one way or the other, and had never anticipated being forced to consider the situation professionally.

But, then, Dr. Benton Quest had appeared in his courtroom asking him to hand another boy over to him to raise. And this child had a mother who supposedly wanted him. Dr. Quest had been articulate and convincing, and the story he painted had been a horrifying one. Judge Henson had not missed the unbridled animosity that crackled between Dr. Quest and the boy's mother. If it had not been obvious in the courtroom, the fiasco in the hallway after their court appearance would have made it so. Since that time, he had talked with a number of people, and now had a clearer sense of both of the adults in this case. What he did not understand was the catalyst that initiated Dr. Quest's petition for custody.

Quest had said yesterday that he had instituted proceedings to remove Brandon Simmons from his home at the request of his son. His 17-year-old son. In all his experience, Henson knew he had never run into a case where a boy that age, who was not a blood relative, had been the instigator in a custody battle. Most kids that age ran in the other direction when faced with the long-term responsibility of caring for a younger child. But he had since read the background history on these two, and he was impressed. The prior judge had done his research. There were statements from the director of the summer camp program where the two boys had met, from the national guard commander in charge of disaster relief in California after the earthquake, from the doctor who had examined all of the children after they had been brought down off the mountain, and from all the parents and the other children who had been with them when they had been stranded. All of the statements said the same thing. Jonny Quest and his companion, Jessie Bannon, had been responsible, caring, sensitive, and nurturing in a horrific situation. All of the children involved had come down off that mountain with a sense of having lived through a great adventure. Without exception, they had described the time they had spent stranded as "fun". In fact, Doug Sanderson, the program organizer, had pointed out in a deposition on this case, that all of those children had benefited in a very positive way by the experience. What does it say, Henson wondered, that Brandon Simmons ran to Jonny Quest when he was in trouble?

The two young people in question currently sat side by side on the sofa opposite him. Both were nervous and the younger boy was obviously scared. As Henson watched, he could see Brandon starting to shake. But almost before he became aware of it, Jonny caught it. He put an arm around the boy, and dropped his head to say something to him in a soft voice. Brandon instinctively nestled up against his side seeking comfort in the contact. He looked up at the older boy, and responded in the same soft tone. Jonny grinned and hugged him briefly, and Brandon relaxed a bit. Then both of them looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry I had to ask you to come here on a Saturday. But I wanted the chance to talk with both of you before I made a ruling on Mrs. Simmons' motion to return Brandon to her custody. I . . . "

"Don't make me go back there!" the boy interrupted in desperation. "Please . . . please, I want to stay with Jonny and Dr. Quest. I'll be good, and go to school, and do anything they tell me to do. Just, please don't make me go back to her." Jonny put his arms around the boy who was starting to cry, and shushed him softly. He stroked his hair gently, and rocked him slightly as he looked up at the judge.

"I'm sorry, sir. This has been hard on him. He meant no disrespect. He's just scared."

"Scared of what, Mr. Quest?"

He looked down at the whimpering boy in his arms and sighed. "He just wants to be a part of something. He's a good kid, sir. He just wants a little attention . . . to know someone cares about him." Judge Henson sat quietly watching the two of them. Yes, he was definitely impressed with Jonny Quest. The older boy showed infinite patience with the distraught child, whispering to him softly and stroking his hair gently.

Slowly, Brandon quieted, dried his tears, and sat up. Finally, the boy looked at the judge and said in a small voice, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Brandon. I know this is hard. And I don't want it to be any harder than it has to be. But I need to ask you some questions. Do you think you can answer them for me?"

"Yes."

"Has your mother ever hit you?"

"No."

"Does she ever leave you alone?"

"Yes."

"I mean for long periods of time."

The boy looked at him in confusion. "Well, she doesn't do it too often, but we never had the money for her to be gone for very long."

Cautiously, Judge Henson asked, "What do you consider 'long', Brandon."

"Two to three weeks," the boy responded promptly. "She goes away for weekends all the time."

"And who stays with you while she is gone?"

Again, the boy looked confused. "Stays with me, sir? No one. She says I'm old enough to take care of myself. She did say she was going to make me stay with the neighbor while she was gone this time, but Mrs. Parker said she didn't want me there."

"And so you went to the Quests."

"Yes."

"Is this why are you unhappy there? Because your mother leaves you alone so much?"

The boy looked at the older man with huge, pain-filled eyes. "No. I don't like it there because she hates me." Judge Henson saw Jonny wince.

"Are you sure about that, Brandon? All adults get angry sometimes, and many of them say things they are sorry for later."

Brandon shook his head and in a small voice he said, "No, she hates me. She told me so."

"She told you she hated you?" he asked incredulously.

The boy was silent for a few moments, then responded slowly, "No. She said I was stupid, and useless, and clumsy, and in the way, and she wished I had never been born." Henson stared at the boy numbly. He had seen a lot of ugliness in his life, but to have systematically done something like this to a young boy was . . . was . . . Reprehensible . . . that was the word Benton Quest had used in his courtroom yesterday, and he was coming to realize that it was accurate. Jonny Quest looked up at him and the anger in his eyes was clear. But the voice and words that were directed at the boy were something completely different.

"You know that isn't true, don't you, Brandon." It was a statement, not a question. Jonny caught Brandon's chin in his hand, and forced his head up so he had to look at him. "You are not stupid, or useless, or in the way. And I'm clumsy . . . that's no sin. And as far as wishing you had never been born . . . Brandon, my life would be much, much worse if I'd never met you. I'm glad you're here. I don't want you to leave."

There were tears on the boy's face again as he responded, "But I messed everything up with you and Jessie."

Jonny sighed, "You did no such thing. Jessie and I were already messed up before you ever came to live with us. What happened was my fault. I should have been honest with her from the beginning. But I wasn't. My Dad and Hadji have been trying to tell me for weeks that I needed to stop making her choices for her and really talk with her to try to work through our problems. And they were right. Now I have to try and explain to her why I've been so stupid. None of this was your fault."

"I never should have told her your old girlfriend was back."

"Maybe you shouldn't, but you were only trying to help. And I should have warned her. I know how she feels about Francesca. But I didn't. I thought that as long as she was in Colombia, Jessie was safe. But I was wrong. Even that far away, Francesca has the power to hurt her. I should have told her right away. It wouldn't have hurt as badly coming from me. But I was scared, so I didn't do it. And she found out and now she's angry with me. But if you hadn't told her, someone else would have. You are not to worry about this, Brandon. It's my problem, and I promise you, I'll fix it."

Judge Henson wished desperately that he could talk with the Quest boy alone. But separating them did not appear to be a very good idea just now. However, evidently, Jonny had the same desire, because he dried the tears on Brandon's face, and asked him gently, "Would you do me a really big favor?"

"Sure," the boy responded quickly.

"I'm really thirsty. There's a Coke machine out in the hall. If I give you some money, could you go get me something to drink?" The boy brightened, eager to help.

"Sure!" Jonny handed him a bunch of bills and change.

"Be sure to get yourself something, too."

Smoothly, Judge Henson interrupted, "I'm afraid the Coke machine in the hall isn't working, Brandon. But there's one down on first floor that is. I'll have my law clerk take you to it." He rose and moved to the desk where he picked up and dialed the phone. "Ms. Davis, could you come to my office, please?" He returned to his chair and a moment later there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

A pleasant-faced young woman stuck her head in the door. "Yes, sir?"

"Ms. Davis, this is Brandon Simmons. I wonder if you would be kind enough to take him downstairs and show him where the working Coke machine is."

"Certainly, sir. Come on, Brandon. I could use something to drink, too. My name is Stella."

Brandon hopped down off the sofa and trotted after her. "Really? I have a friend named Jessie, and her mother's name is Estella."

"Really? That's pretty cool . . ." The door closed softly cutting off the running conversation between the two.

Henson sat quietly, waiting to see what Jonny Quest would do. The boy sat staring at the closed door for a long moment. Finally, he sighed deeply and turned to look at the older man across from him.

"How can a mother do something like that to her own child?" Jonny's tone was tired and bitter. "He's such a good kid. He really doesn't deserve this."

Henson looked at the young man for a long second before asking, "Are you certain the situation is as bad as he makes it out to be, Mr. Quest? You know children tend to exaggerate, particularly when they are trying to get the attention of adults."

"I know that, sir. But Brandon isn't like that. For a long time, he wouldn't say anything about his mother at all. And when he finally did open up about what was going on, he would tell me something that she had done, but then try to defend her. I didn't encourage him in any way. And to this day, I don't think he hates her. I think he's more scared of her than anything." Jonny sighed deeply. "And he's so happy with us. He actually laughs sometimes."

The judge thought about that for a minute. "And if you were given a choice in the matter, Mr. Quest. What would you have me do?"

"Let my dad adopt Brandon permanently so she can't take him away again," Jonny responded promptly.

Henson sighed. "It's not that easy."

Jonny's shoulders slumped slightly. "Yeah. I know." He stared at his hands as they lay in his lap. Suddenly, he looked up, the fear clear in his eyes. "But you can't send him back to her! At least try and send him to his father instead. I'm sure his dad would take him . . . if you could find him."

But Henson shook his head. "No. That's not a viable alternative. The court records on the custody hearings after their divorce were very clear. The man was an unfit father and put the boy in jeopardy. That simply won't be possible."

"But, sir, I don't see how that can be!" Jonny responded desperately. "Brandon has talked to me about his father. He loves his dad and has never been able to understand why he left so abruptly. He says his dad was really great; that they did things together, and his dad was interested in him, and . . . and . . . everything. Isn't that better than the treatment that he's getting from his mother?"

Suddenly, in the outer office, they both heard the sound of a door and laughing voices. Henson shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Quest, but I'm not in a position to override the presiding judge's decision on custody. He was directly involved with those proceedings and I have to rely on his judgement in that instance."

A knock was heard on the door to the judge's chambers as Jonny asked frantically, "What are you going to do, then?"

Henson sighed. "I don't know. I want to look at all of the case law again, as well as the depositions from the various parties involved before I make any kind of ruling. It is possible I may not have much choice in the matter. We'll just have to wait and see." He looked at the teenager closely, and said, "Compose yourself, Mr. Quest. You don't want to upset the boy anymore than he already is."

Jonny rose abruptly and went across the room to look out the window of the judge's chambers. He stood with his back to the door, staring out at the IBEW building on the corner as he heard the judge respond to a second knock on the door. What do I do? he asked himself. He knew that the judge was only trying to do what was right. And if the proceedings of the Simmons' divorce indicated that Charles Simmons had endangered his son, there was no way the judge would consider returning the boy to his father. But Jonny had also been around Alicia Simmons enough to know that she would manipulate anyone to get what she wanted. Jonny simply could not believe that Brandon would have lied about his interactions with his father. He was honest about his mother, no matter how painful it was for him. But, he reminded himself as he heard the door open, maybe Brandon doesn't really remember clearly. Or maybe he's closed off the bad memories. Still, was it fair to completely exclude the man based only on the divorce proceedings transcripts? Jonny didn't think so. He knew that the courts tended to be far more sympathetic toward the mother in custody battles. Charles Simmons should at least have the chance to personally make a case for himself in this proceeding determining the fate of his son.

"Jonny?" With an effort, he turned and smiled down at Brandon, taking the Coke can from his outstretched hand.

"Thanks, Sport. This is great. Did you get something for yourself?" Brandon nodded, displaying the root beer in his hand. "Good." Jonny put an arm around the younger boy and turned back to Judge Henson. The older man was watching the two of them closely. "Did you need anything else from either one of us, sir?"

The judge shook his head slowly. "No, Mr. Quest. I believe I have everything I need. I appreciate both of you coming in."

"We were happy to be of help," Jonny responded formally. He guided Brandon gently toward the door. "If you need anything else, we'll be at home."

"Thank you. I will see both of you in the courtroom at 10:00 a.m. Monday morning."

"Yes, sir," was Jonny's simple response, as he exited the judge's chambers, closing the door behind him. Jonny and Brandon walked silently along the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the late fall sunshine.

Finally, Brandon looked up and asked hesitantly, "Jonny, what's he gonna do? Am I gonna have to go back and live with my mother?"

Jonny Quest sighed deeply. "I don't know, Brandon. I really don't."

Back in the courthouse building, Judge Henson sat staring at the closed door for a long time, lost in thought. Finally, he rose from the chair and turned to his assistant. "Ms. Davis, I need for you to check all state and federal law pertinent to this case and have a brief on my desk by noon tomorrow outlining current prevailing policy on this issue. I need to know my options before I walk into that courtroom on Monday."

The young assistant rolled her eyes, but her only response was a quiet, "Yes, sir."

***

Jessie darted swiftly across a patch of open ground and took cover behind one of the storage tents. She glanced around quickly, then began dodging from one piece of cover to another, making her way toward the tent her mother and father had been occupying. She knew it was pointless to ask to use the phone. She would get the same answer she got the last time. Obviously, her mother was far more concerned about keeping within the constraints of her grant budget, than allowing her daughter's 'frivolous' phone call. So this time she wouldn't ask . . . she would just do it. They would be furious with her, but right now she didn't care. She desperately needed to talk with Jonny . . . privately. And she couldn't do that on a thoroughly beaten, public pay phone with an entire village listening to every word she said. It was that simple.

Suddenly, she heard voices close at hand. With a jackknifing motion, she dove behind a large fallen log, not far from her goal, and lay still.

"So where are they, then?" Jessie recognized the nasal, whiny voice of DeForrest Blain.

"I told you, I haven't seen either one of them since before the curing ceremony yesterday. What business is it of yours, anyway, Blain?" Nathan Hardesty replied.

"Well, aren't you the least bit curious? I mean, after all, it's the Dr. High and Mighty's daughter. You gotta admit, the girl's a real looker. I could go for a piece of that kind of tail myself. And maybe she doesn't mind if her assistant dallies with her daughter . . . I mean, I hear he comes from a really wealthy family . . . but I don't think the old man would like it much. I figure Calderone would be lucky to come out of it in one piece if Bannon caught him at any hanky-panky with his daughter."

"That 'old man' won't treat you any better if he catches you spreading that kind of rumor. Anyway, from what I hear, Jessie's got a boyfriend that her father likes a lot. I doubt that Ruben has a prayer of getting to first base with her, even if her father stays out of it."

"Yeah, right. You want to put money on it, Hardesty? From everything I've heard from the workmen, Calderone's got quite the reputation as a lady's man back in his hometown. Even heard he got some girl knocked up while he was away at school, and daddy had to pay to have the problem 'go away.' Fifty bucks says the Latin Casanova scored last night. No one saw either one of them all evening long, and he was looking very smug this morning."

Jessie felt her face flush as she listened to the two interns. How did I ever get into this? she wondered.

"You're sick," Jessie heard Nathan say in disgust. "I'm not gonna get involved in anything that low. All else aside, its professional suicide if either of her parents find out you're taking side bets on their daughter's virginity." She heard the two of them moving away. "Get lost, Blain. You have a sewer for a brain, and that kind of crap, I don't need."

Jessie lay for a long time, completely unmoving. She felt slightly nauseated. So she was a trophy. . . . a prize Ruben thought he had won. And Blain was trying to set up a pool on whether he succeeded. She felt so stupid. More than ever, she wanted to talk to Jonny. Finally, she raised her head and looked around cautiously. The area seemed to be quiet. She rose and moved stealthily over to her parents' tent. It was silent inside. She was about to dart around to the front when she thought better of it. She didn't have a good enough view to be able to tell who was in the central work area. She moved quickly back to the rear. Lying flat on her belly, she lifted the edge of the tent slightly and peered in. Empty. With a quick wiggle she slid into the tent and dropped the back wall into place. Now for the phone.

She performed a quick search of the tent, but couldn't locate it. She knew her mother normally kept it close to her main work desk so it was easy to call in her regular work reports to the Museum. She was just beginning a more thorough search when she heard voices moving in her direction. Her parents! She looked around wildly, then dove behind a stack of boxes in the far corner of the tent. She had barely settled when the tent flap opened and her mother and father entered.

"Damn it, Race, I simply can't believe it. We can't afford the delay." Jessie heard the distinct sound of books hitting the desk and the muffled thud of something being thrown on the bed.

"It's all right, Estella," she heard her father's consoling voice. "The new burial chamber is secure enough. We can shift the primary work site to the south end. That still needs to have the detailed surveying and gridwork set up. Then the initial clearing can be done down to the base excavation level. You've said yourself that there's still a good two weeks of steady work that needs to be done to get that area ready for serious study. We can work there while we wait for the new equipment and shoring materials. It shouldn't take more than a week to get it delivered to Bogota. I can pick it up there and have it back here and set up well within the specified time table."

"Yes, but it will mean we have to delay our trip."

Jessie heard her father sigh deeply. "Yes, I know. And I'm extremely unhappy about that. But I simply don't see any way around it. Unless you're willing to leave all the equipment delivery, set up, and excavation on the new chamber to Ruben."

"You know I can't do that!"

"Yes, I know. No matter how much I want us out of here, I recognize this isn't something you can afford to do right now." Jessie could hear the smile in her father's voice as he said, "I may have been stupid enough once to have pushed this issue, but having lost you the first time to my own stupidity, I won't blow my second chance. I've learned over the years." Race sighed again. "Well, we'll just have to work around it. That's all we can do. Where's the phone? I might as well start making calls and see if I can't set the wheels in motion to get the equipment delivered."

Estella snorted. "Not unless you've made a 100 mile trip to the large trading post on the river that I don't know about. Don't you remember? The cell phone died last night. It needs that new battery pack and charger. They notified me the other day that it's in and ready to be picked up, but no one's had the time to go get it."

"Damn! I swear, what else is going to go wrong?"

Jessie could hear her mother's sour chuckle. "You don't really need for me to answer that question, do you?"

"Don't even think that, Estella! It's not funny."

"It's all right, Race," she told him gently. "Everything is fine. I promise."

"Still no sign?"

"No."

Her father's voice sounded muffled as he responded, "Well, everything had better be fine. No hedging on this one, Stel. I mean it. You have to promise me..."

"I already have. And I meant it. Everything is just fine."

There was a lengthy pause where all Jessie could hear was heavy breathing and tiny, incoherent sounds. She flushed and buried her head in her arms as it dawned on her what was occurring on the other side of her screen of boxes.

Finally, she heard her mother let out a deep sigh, and her father say, "Well, I guess I had better head to that trading post. It will be well after dark before I get back as it is. I assume we have a list of other things we need?"

"Yes, it's right here." Jessie heard her mother shifting some paper around on the desk. "You will take care, won't you?"

"Always. And you'll do the same?"

"Of course. Are you going to take anyone with you?"

"No. I'll move faster on my own and I'll feel better if you have as many people around you as possible while I'm gone. And should anything happen, Jessie is a good pilot and can fly you out of here."

"All right. But nothing is going to happen. I promise. Come on, I'll walk you out to the jeep."

Jessie could hear the tent flap drop closed and their voices fading into the distance. For a long time, she lay there contemplating what she had heard. Something serious was going on. There was no doubt of that. But she couldn't make any sense of it. For some reason her father was really concerned about her mother . . . more than usual, it seemed. But nothing in their conversation told her why. And what was that business about a trip? She shook her head. None of it made sense. Only one thing came through clearly from that entire conversation . . . she wasn't going to be talking to Jonny anytime today.

***

Brandon was silent on the way back to the Quest Compound. He sat, staring out the windshield, his eyes bleak and his body tense. Jonny tried talking to him once or twice, but the younger boy did not answer. Finally, Jonny decided it would probably be better to leave him alone to work through the meeting with the judge on his own. When they finally reached their destination, Brandon got out of the car hastily and went directly to his room. He shut the door firmly and Jonny could hear the bed creak sharply as Brandon threw himself down on it. Then, there was silence.

Jonny contemplated the closed door with concern. Something told him that he should probably talk to the boy. But what could he say? Trying to reassure him that everything was going to be all right would be very hard right now, because Jonny, himself, wasn't convinced of it. And he didn't want to lie. Finally, he decided that the best thing he could do for Brandon was to try and track down his father. If he could at least talk to the man . . .

And then there was Jessie. Jonny desperately wanted to talk with her. He had a building sense of urgency . . . something was telling him that time was running short. He didn't know why, but that sense drove him to the phone now. As he sat, listening to the small clicks and pings as the system connected through the various trunk lines and satellite uplinks attempting to establish the connection with the cellular phone in Colombia, he wondered what he was going to say to her. Certainly, that he was sorry. And, somehow, he had to find the words to tell her how he felt about her. That would be the hard part. He really wasn't very good at this stuff. The phone began to ring. Should he just blurt out the fact that he was in love with her? That didn't seem right. There must be a better way. But if there was, he couldn't think of it. With a final ring, the system connected.

"The cellular phone you have dialed is not answering at this time. Please try to place your call again later."

Jonny sat there for a moment before the words fully registered. Not answering. He looked at his watch. It was just before 11:00 a.m. He sighed. Of course they weren't answering. They were working at the dig site. He should have known better. He would just have to try again later. At least this would give him the chance to go talk with Brandon before he began the search for his father.

Jonny walked down the hallway and knocked on the door of Brandon's room. No answer. He knocked again, waited a bit, then turned the knob and looked in. Brandon lay motionless on the bed, facing the wall. Jonny could see the boy staring fixedly at a blank spot directly in front of him. Occasionally, he would blink. But that was the only motion Jonny could see as he approached the bed. Gently, he sat down beside Brandon and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Sport, whatcha doin'?"

For a long minute, Jonny didn't think the boy would answer, but finally, Brandon replied, "Nothin'."

"You want to go do something?"

Another long pause. "No."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin'."

"Look at me, Brandon." Jonny pushed gently on his shoulder until the boy rolled over onto his back. "Don't tell me nothing is wrong, because I know something is bugging you. You will feel better if you talk about it. So tell me, what's bothering you? Is it your mother?"

Tears suddenly welled up in Brandon's eyes as he sat up, drew his legs up against his chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around his knees. "I'm so scared. I don't want to go back there, Jonny. They won't make me, will they?" The boy was crying convulsively, now. Jonny slid forward and wrapped his arms around him tightly, rocking him gently. "Please, please don't let them send me back there. I don't want to go. Please, I don't want to..."

"Shhhh. It's ok, Brandon. We'll figure out something. Don't cry. It will be all right."

"I can't. I can't go back there. Please. I won't..." the boy sobbed repetitively.

"I know." Jonny held him tightly. "We'll work on it, Brandon. I promise. Everything will work out. You'll see." And as he said those words, Jonny prayed silently that they were true.

***

The tropical sun beat down mercilessly on Jessie Bannon as she lay, stretched out on her stomach in a chest-deep, earthen trench on the far edge of the excavation site. Rising before her was a wall that topped her head by about 5 feet. It was old and crumbling. The engravings on the site were barely legible. The wall formed a circle about thirty feet in diameter, and behind her, in the center of the circle, was what appeared to be the remnants of a crumbling building. Even when new, it probably had not been much to look at. Now it was little more than a pile of moss-covered stones.

Jessie attacked the wall obsessively with a small trowel and a soft-bristled brush. She worked diligently, clearing the clinging dirt from what was left of the old stone. She was completely oblivious to the baking sun, the sweat that dripped steadily from every pore in her body, and the biting insects that attacked her in swarms. Single-mindedly, she continued to scrape dirt from that old stone wall.

Suddenly, from relatively close at hand, she heard a voice calling to her.

"Jessie! Gatita, where are you?" The voice paused. Jessie lay in her trench, frozen like a wild animal caught in the headlights of a car. She didn't even breathe. "Jessie? Are you out here?" Closer still. Now she could hear his footsteps on the raw dirt of the excavation. She was absolutely silent. Go away, she thought urgently. Go away and leave me alone! "Jessie, it's Ruben! Where are you?" She could hear his footsteps pacing along the outer edge of the wall. He couldn't be more than ten feet from her now. She rested her forehead in the broken dirt under her and wished him away with all her might. Finally, she heard footsteps again, this time moving away from her. A moment later she heard him call again, his voice already starting to fade with distance. Slowly, she raised her head and took a struggling breath. He was gone.

It was late afternoon and she had been avoiding him successfully all day long. The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize she wanted no part of an intimate relationship with Ruben Calderone. Even if she and Jonny were finished, Ruben was not the kind of guy she would pick as a new love interest. There were too many things about him that rubbed her the wrong way. His smothering attitude, in particular. She had the feeling that the first time she decided to scale a vertical cliff after her father or was almost lost off the side of a mountain in Nepal, Ruben would come completely unglued. He would sooner see her put in a gilded cage where he could show her off than let her live her own life. And that would drive her nuts.

Wearily, she rose to her feet. She took her trowel and brush and set them carefully in a small crevasse near where she had been working. It was time to head back to camp. The evening excavation update meeting would be starting within the hour and she wanted the opportunity to clean up a little beforehand. With any luck, she could stay near Nathan or her mother and continue to avoid Ruben.

But she was less than halfway back to the campsite when he appeared, blocking the path in front of her. He stepped forward, a smile breaking across his face as he reached for her. "Jessie! Gatita, I have been searching for you all day . . ."

Deftly, she ducked his hands and darted around him, continuing to walk toward camp at an increased pace. "Hello, Ruben. You were looking for me? I'm sorry. I've been busy all day."

He reached out and caught her arm, dragging her to a stop. "Of course I have been looking for you!" He pulled her arm, drawing her into a close embrace. "After what we shared last night, surely you could not have expected anything else?" He leaned forward to kiss her.

Jessie struggled, trying to shove him away. "No, Ruben . . ."

"What? You were not so reluctant last night." He clung to her tenaciously, drawing her even closer. "In fact, you were very willing last night. . . "

"Last night was a mistake! I was upset and angry. Stop it, Ruben! This is wrong. I have a boyfriend . . ."

"Jonny Quest?" he sneered. "You still call him your boyfriend, even after all he has done?"

With a final, sharp shove, she broke free and staggered away from him. As she looked at him, she saw a range of emotions playing across his face . . . anger, hurt, confusion. Desperately, she tried to explain. "Ruben, you have to understand. Jonny and I have been friends for a very, very long time. And we've been even closer than that for almost a year and a half. I care for him a great deal."

"No!" The anger was plain, now. "He has treated you poorly the entire time you have been here. Why would you consider even talking to him again? This is insane. And he has gone back to his old girlfriend . . ."

Jessie shook her head. "I don't know that. I'm only assuming that's what he's done. I owe him the opportunity to explain about Francesca and what has been going on at home."

"You don't owe him anything! Please, Jessie, I care for you, too. And I don't want to see him hurt you again. Please, let me hold you and make you forget he even existed. I can do that. I promise."

He moved toward her, reaching out to take her into his arms again. But Jessie backed away quickly. "I'm sorry, Ruben, but I can't. I love Jonny . . . that's just the way it is. I owe you an apology for last night. It never should have happened. It was my fault. But this is just the way it has to be."

And with that, she turned and ran swiftly down the path toward camp.

Ruben stood, looking after her for a long time. Finally, in a hoarse whisper, he said, "No, this is not the way it has to be. You turned to me once, Gatita. You will do so again. I will see to it."