Growing
Pains II: A Matter of Trust
Part 2
Bobby stopped across the street from the Conners home and took a
deep steadying breath. He was shaken
and scared. He'd really done it this
time. The fight with his father was bad enough, but to have physically
assaulted Matt? This would end any patience his father might have left. If he went home now, God alone knew when
he'd be free again. The bile rose in
his throat, threatening to choke him, as he remembered the feeling of his fist
striking his brother's face. How had
things gotten this far out of hand? What did he do now? He thought of the news
story his father had commented on at the breakfast table and was shaken by
uncertainty again. He had heard about
the earlier robberies. He hadn't given
them much thought until Damien Carter came around spreading gossip. Surely Francesca hadn't been . . .
Unbidden, the image of her face rose in front of his mind's eye
. . . the dark circles shadowing her lovely violet eyes, the lines of
exhaustion bracketing her mouth, and the way she looked away from him as she
made an excuse and asked him to take her home early last night. Urgency gripped him as he crossed the street
and mounted the stairs swiftly. Schooling his face to pleasantness, he knocked on the door firmly. When it was answered by Lillian Conners, he smiled
and said,
"Good morning, Mrs. Conners. I hope I didn't disturb you?"
"Bobby! No, not at all. Please, come in. Can I offer you
some breakfast?" The Conners family had fostered Francesca when she
returned to Rockport, providing her with a place to stay and a family
environment. Bobby knew that Francesca
felt very conflicted about the situation. While she was bored to tears and found the Conners' two sons to be
frustrating and tedious, Bobby also knew that she felt reluctant gratitude
toward them as well. They had been kind
and generous to her, even though everyone else regarded her with clear
suspicion. And after his accident, when
everyone was trying to blame Francesca for it, the Conners had stood up for
her, going so far as to confront his family openly over their treatment of her.
Bobby had made it a point to thank them for that support and ever since he had
been welcome in their home at any time.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Conners. I've already eaten. I was
looking for Francesca. I know it's very
early, but I was wondering . . ."
"Bobby?" a soft voice interrupted him. Turning, he saw her. She was dressed in a pair of faded blue
jeans, a lavender sweater, and a pair of scuffed leather loafers, all of which
looked like they were the first things she could lay her hands on. Her hair was
loose and tousled, as though she hadn't had the chance to run a brush through
it yet. When their eyes met, he saw
that hers looked bruised, the dark circles beneath them almost the same color
as her eyes. "I thought I heard
you. Is anything wrong?"
It took a tremendous effort to keep his expression carefree and
pleasant. "Wrong? No, nothing's wrong. I just have to be down at the plant at 9:00 this morning . . . my
father's found me a job . . . and I wanted to talk to you before I went in. If this is a bad time . . . "
"No!" she replied hastily, her eyes sharpening at his
news. "No, now is fine. I've got some things I need to do today and
I won't be around much anyway, so this is probably the best time. Why don't you come on up to my room and we
can talk." Turning to the older woman, she smiled and asked, "Mrs.
Conners, is there any orange juice?"
"Certainly," Lillian replied, filling a glass for
her. "And take a bagel, too. You need to eat some breakfast." She
hesitated briefly and then added, "Are you sure you're all right, dear?
You're not looking very well this morning . . ."
Francesca smiled at her. "Yes, I'm fine . . . just a bit tired. I stayed up working on my project a bit later than I should have
last night. I'll be fine."
"Well, all right. Bobby, are you sure you won't have anything?"
"No, thank you," he replied, turning to follow
Francesca out of the room.
Francesca set the food on the dresser and spun to face him the
instant the door closed behind them. "What job?!? What's going on?"
"Dad is going to put me to work behind a desk in his office
where he can keep an eye on me. I'm
supposed to be there at 9:00." Before she could reply, he grabbed her by
the shoulders and stared down into her eyes. "But that's not important. What are you doing, Francesca? What's going on?"
Her eyes slid away from his. "Going on? Nothing's going on. What do you mean?"
Bobby shook her gently. "Don't lie to me! Damien took great pleasure in letting me know
that you were hauled in for questioning by the cops yesterday. And Mrs. Conners is right . . . you look
like hell. Tell me what's going on!"
She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "Bobby, I . . ."
When she didn't continue, he said flatly, "You're the one
that's been pulling those jewelry store robberies." Her eyes fell and she
tried to pull away. "Why,
Francesca? You were in the clear. No
one could touch you. What made you do a thing like this???"
Her eyes snapped back to his and he saw anger kindle in their
violet depths. "I won't let him do this to you!" she said hotly. "I won't let your father lock you away
in that god-forsaken place until your spirit dies and you turn into a bitter
old man. I'll do anything to
keep that from happening!"
Bobby stared down at her, stunned. "You're robbing jewelry stores to keep my father from
putting me to work in the plant?"
"We need money to get away. There's only two ways I know of to get that kind of money quickly
and I won't resort to the second one unless there's absolutely no other
choice." Francesca saw Bobby's eyes widen as the meaning of what she was
saying hit him.
"NO!" he said
explosively. "Never! Don't you
even consider it, you hear me??? Not ever! I'll work in the damned plant until
I drop before I let you . . ."
Francesca reached up swiftly and placed her hand firmly across
his mouth, quieting him. "Shhhh!
Don't raise your voice. They'll hear
you! I won't do that, I promise. Not
unless there's no other way. And as
long as I can walk and think, there's always another way." Taking a deep
breath, she stared him straight in the eyes without flinching. "Bobby, I'm a thief. That's the plain
truth. My father was a thief, my
grandfather was a thief, and my gypsy ancestors were thieves. I was trained to do it almost from the day I
was born. It's what brought me here in
the first place."
Bobby slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at her. "You came here to rob the Quests."
"Yes. My father and
I did. We were working for a man named
Baxter, who wanted something that Dr. Quest had invented. Baxter hired us to steal it." Her mouth
twisted in an angry grimace. "But
Jessie Bannon interfered and we weren't able to get it."
"Is that why Jonny hates you so much? Because you were the
one who hurt Jessie so badly?"
"Yes and no," she replied carefully, sitting in a chair not far from him. "He hates me because of what happened, but I never laid a hand on Jessie. I pulled some pranks while they were in London that were designed to humiliate her and drive them off, but it was one of Baxter's men . . . a man named Keller . . . who went off the deep end and attacked her while we were all in Cairo."
"What happened to him?"
"Keller? He was killed."
"Tell me what happened."
"Why?"
"Because I want to understand. I want to know why Jonny hates you so much and why you have it in
for Jessie. I want to know why you came
back here and what you're doing here now. But most of all . . ." His voice broke and he stopped. For a minute, he stared at the floor
sightlessly and then he raised his eyes again and said, "Most of all, I
want to know . . . why me? Of all the guys in this area, why are you here with
me?"
Francesca shot out of the chair and crossed to him in three
swift strides. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly as she
replied, "I'm here with you because I love you, Bobby. That's the honest truth. I swear it!"
For a second, he held her close and then pushed her away
gently. "Then tell me the rest of
it. No secrets any more,
Francesca. I want to know it all."
She sniffed and wiped the tears off her face with the back of
her hand. "All right. I'll tell
you, but not here. Jeff and Michael are
too nosey and they like to eavesdrop too much. We need to go somewhere that we can talk without being
overheard."
Bobby nodded. "All
right. Where?"
Francesca thought about it for a minute. "How about the lookout point at Camden
Hills State Park later this evening? We could meet up there around 7:00."
Bobby was already shaking his head. "No. We need to do
it now."
Francesca looked stricken. "Bobby, I promise I'll tell you. You have to trust me . . ."
"It's not that," he interrupted, and for the first
time, his eyes fell. "I'm just not sure we have that much time anymore."
Fear flared again. "What's happened?"
He sighed. "I got
into a fight with the family again this morning. It was bad, Francesca . . . really bad."
"Tell me."
Bobby licked his lips and stumbled a bit. "I . . ."
Reaching out, she caressed his cheek and said softly,
"What?"
"I . . . I punched Matt."
"You what?" she said, shocked.
"I hit him . . . twice . . . and left him lying in the
front yard. I'm not even sure he was
conscious."
Francesca absorbed this new revelation in silence. A rift between the twins? She couldn't
believe it. "What happened?"
"I found out the other night that he's been lying to me . .
. for a long time."
"Lying about what?" she prompted him when he stopped.
"About Marla," he finally replied with a sigh. "He's in love with her."
She thought about that. "Are you sure?"
"Oh, yeah," he replied bitterly. "You can't miss it. It's written all over his face."
"How long has it been going on?"
"I don't know and I don't want to know, either."
Francesca thought about her answer very carefully before she
said, "Bobby, maybe you need to know. He's your twin brother and you've always been so close. Maybe he didn't betray you. Maybe the thing with Marla only developed
since the two of you broke up."
"But don't you see, Francesca? When it developed isn't the
point. It's a matter of trust. I've trusted him all my life. I never thought twice about his being with
Marla. If she needed to go somewhere
and I couldn't take her, I'd ask Matt. Or Matt would offer. Right
before the two of us broke up, Marla began to change. I couldn't understand it at the time, but now I think I can. It wasn't me she was trying to impress . . .
it was Matt. And even if their
relationship didn't develop until after Marla and I split, he should have told
me! He had any number of opportunities. But he lied about it and hid it from me. I had to find out by watching them through the window when I came
home the other night!"
Francesca sighed and reached out to put her arms around him
again. "Oh, Bobby, I'm so sorry!"
In the distance, they heard the phone begin to ring. Bobby tensed.
"We need to get out of here. Sooner or later, my dad is going to start looking for me, and
this is the first place he's gonna try."
A sudden, sharp knock on the door caused both of them to jump
violently. Lillian Conners called, "Francesca, telephone!"
Bobby shifted quickly to the chair against the wall as Francesca
crossed and opened the door. "Thanks, Mrs. Conners. Do
you know who it is?"
Lillian shook her head. "No. A man. No one I knew, I don't think."
"Okay, thanks. It's
probably the guy from Syracuse. He was
supposed to call this morning and confirm our appointment. I'll get it in the downstairs hall."
"I need to be going, too," Bobby said, standing
swiftly. "I'll come down with
you."
The three of them descended the stairs and Mrs. Conners
continued on toward the kitchen as Bobby and Francesca stopped by the
phone. As Bobby moved to go on toward
the door, Francesca put a restraining hand on his arm and picked up the phone.
"Hello? This is she." She listened in silence for a
long moment and then responded. "I
know the place. I'll be there. Yes, I'll have it. Good, I'll see you then." Then she hung up the phone. "Let's get out of here," she
hissed at him. She crossed quickly to
the front closet, grabbed her coat and purse and called in toward the kitchen,
"Mrs. Conners, I'm going to give Bobby a lift and then I'm leaving for my
appointment. I'll probably be gone all day and I don't know what time I'll be
back. I'll call some time this
afternoon and let you know when to expect me."
"All right, dear. The two of you have a good day. And good luck with your new job, Bobby!"
"Thanks, Mrs. Conners. I can use all the good wishes I can get these days."
As they hastily descended the front steps and crossed the lawn
to the small, older model car that Francesca had purchased not long before,
they both heard the phone in the house begin to ring again. Francesca threw herself into the driver's
seat and had the motor started before Bobby even got settled beside her. As they were pulling away, they saw Lillian
Conners come out of the front door and wave at them frantically. They both ignored her. Reaching out, Francesca picked up her purse
and tossed it into Bobby's lap.
"Dig in there and find my cell phone and make sure it's
turned off. She's sure to give him that
number when she has to tell him that she missed us." Bobby rooted around
until he located it, flipped it open and confirmed it was off. Watching him out of the corner of her eye,
Francesca nodded. "Good. Now, let's
put some distance between us and Rockport."
"Why are you going to Syracuse?"
"I'm not going to Syracuse," she replied.
"But you told Mrs. Conners you were going to . . ."
"I know what I told her. It was a lie."
"Then where are you going?"
Francesca glanced over at him with a calculating look. "You said you wanted to know what
happened in Cairo." Bobby nodded. "All right. I'll tell you .
. . about Cairo and about why I came back here and about what really happened
while you were unconscious over Christmas. But it means that you aren't going to make that 9:00 meeting at your
father's plant."
"I don't care. I
wasn't planning on going anyway. I'd
rather be with you. So where are we headed?"
"Provincetown."
Bobby looked at her, startled. "As in the town out on Cape Cod?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"To meet a fence."
"A fen . . ." Bobby stopped, then slowly sat back in
the seat again. Finally, he took a deep breath. "What time are we supposed to be there?"
"Noon."
Bobby looked at his watch. "We better get a move on then. We don't want to be late."
* * * * *
Jim Conners slammed the receiver down violently and turned back
to the bed in his son's room. "Well?" he demanded.
Barbara Mason looked up at him. "He'll be all right, Jim. Just take it easy. His jaw isn't
broken, although he's going to have a dandy bruise, and the bang on the head
appears to have done no lasting damage. He was lucky he wasn't a few feet closer to the porch. If his head had come in contact with the
concrete stairs, it might have been a different story." She looked down at
the boy laying prone on the bed and asked quietly, "Who did this, Matt?"
Matt looked away miserably and it was Jim Conners that
answered. "Bobby."
Barbara's head snapped up. "Bobby did this? What in heaven's name happened? You two
boys never fight."
"Answer her," Jim commanded his son harshly. "I want to know as well."
"It was my fault . . ." Matt said, but stopped at his
father's sharp gesture.
"Don't give me that! I'm tired of you trying to cover up
for your brother. It's time he took responsibility for his own actions. I want the truth!"
In spite of Dr. Mason's protests, Matt struggled into a sitting
position and looked at his father miserably. "But it is the truth, Dad. It was my fault." He hung his head. "You see, I wasn't honest with
him. And when he discovered the truth .
. . well . . ."
Jim Evans sat down on the bed beside the boy and laid his hand
on Matt's shoulder. "What could
you possibly have done to upset Bobby that much?"
"I . . . it's . . . I couldn't tell him . . ." Matt
sighed heavily. "It's about Marla
. . ."
Jim looked at his son thoughtfully. "Marla Dawson?" Matt nodded, staring at the bed. After a moment, Jim said slowly, "I
wondered why she was still spending so much time here. What was it? Was she just trying to stay
visible, hoping he'd grow tired of Francesca?"
"No," Matt replied in a low voice.
"Well, what then?" his father questioned patiently.
"I invited her . . ."
"You invited . . ." Jim trailed off. Looking up, his eyes locked with those of
his wife and the local doctor as the light dawned. "Oh."
"I should have told him . . . explained how it was, but I
didn't. And somehow he found out. He was so angry . . ."
"I'm surprised that Marla . . ."
"Marla doesn't know how I feel about her," Matt said
miserably. "To her, I'm just a
good friend . . . and the twin brother of the guy she's still in love
with," he added bitterly.
"Oh dear . . ." Donna Evans said softly.
"Lie down, Matt," Barbara said in her best 'doctor'
voice. "You need to rest. You may not have cracked your skull, but you
still rattled your brains a bit and you need a little time to recover."
"I can't! I have to find Bobby . . . I've got to explain to
him how it really is!"
"You let me worry about your brother," his father replied, standing. "I'll find him and bring him home and then the two of you can hash this out. For now, I want you to rest." He held up his hand, forestalling the comment he could see Matt about to make. "I won't yell at him and I won't lose my temper. I think maybe I've been doing too much of that lately and it's time that cooler heads prevail. Don't worry. We'll work it out."
They eased Matt back down onto his bed and his mother took up a
chair nearby as Barbara and Jim slipped out of the room and closed the door
behind them. Jim rubbed his face, looking dazed. "What a mess."
Barbara chuckled softly. "Life was easier when they were younger?"
Jim snorted. "No,
not much. It was just a different kind
of chaos." He sighed as they entered the living room. "What am I going to do, Barbara? Bobby
simply won't listen to his mother or me anymore. I've been relying on his tie with Matt to find a way to reach
him, but if that's gone now, too . . ." He slammed the heel of his hand
against the doorjamb in frustration. "Damn that girl!!! This is all her fault!"
"Careful, Jim," Barbara warned. "I don't know that's a totally safe
assumption. It's very hard to derail
someone who isn't at least partially ready to head in that direction already .
. . especially with someone as headstrong as Bobby."
"What do you mean?"
"You know that all Bobby's ever talked about was going away
to school. From as far back as I can
remember, he's wanted to see the world . . . do new things . . . meet new
people. He's intelligent, innovative,
and forward-thinking. Rockport is
simply too small for him."
"Matt's happy enough," Jim said defensively.
"Matt is not Bobby."
"Furthermore, he wasn't this discontent until he met that girl!"
"Are you so sure about that?"
Jim hesitated. Finally,
he said slowly, "No . . . no, I guess I'm not. He did love to travel and cities fascinated him. He's always wanted to live in one. And all the schools he was interested in
were in big cities, well away from here."
"He didn't become openly rebellious until he thought his
goals for the future were being threatened, did he?" She held up her hand,
stopping him before he could retort. "Hard as it may be, look beyond Francesca Hamilton. Jonny and
Jessie have always said that girl specializes in recognizing weak points and
capitalizing on them. I think she
probably spotted what none of the rest of you did . . . she saw his innate
discontent with his position here and she reached out to that."
"And used it!"
"Maybe. Or maybe it
triggered a rapport between them. Another thing -- that girl has to be feeling very lost and alone. I think she probably needed what Bobby
offered very desperately and it strengthened the bond between them. "
"And I made matters worse by trying to force Bobby into
severing his ties with her."
"I'm afraid so, yes."
Jim sighed. "Matt
tried to tell me to ease off, but I was too angry to listen."
Barbara smiled a bit sadly. "Parents and children do have a way of pushing each other's
buttons. I take it he wasn't at the
Conners'?"
"Oh, he was there all right. But the two of them were just leaving when I called and Lillian
wasn't able to catch them. She did give
me a cell phone number, but it's not answering."
"Can I suggest something?"
"Please! We need all the help we can get right now."
"Go talk to Lillian and Charles Conners. If there's anyone in this area that knows
that girl, it's those two. Maybe they
can give you some insight into what's going on with Francesca and Bobby."
Reluctantly, Jim nodded. "All right, but can I ask a favor?"
"Certainly."
"I've promised Matt that I'll hold onto my temper, and that
has been very difficult for me recently. Also, I haven't behaved particularly well over the last several months,
and I'm not exactly on the Conners' list of favorite people just now. Would you be willing to come with me? You're
on neutral ground with everyone involved and I think that may help."
"I'd be happy to."
* * * * *
Francesca tossed an envelope into Bobby's lap as she climbed
back into the car and started the engine. Bobby opened the envelope and his eyes widened in shock.
"How much is in here?" he gasped.
"He gave me $10,000 for the lot," she replied with a
grimace. "We probably could have
done better if I'd been willing to work the fences a little, but I'd held on to
the merchandise for too long already and I wanted to be rid of it. And the payout was reasonable when you
consider that I was hitting local stores that didn't specialize in top line
stuff."
"I'm impressed."
"Don't be. This is
kid's stuff . . . something I could do with little or no advanced preparation."
"This is what you and your father used to do?" Bobby
asked, flipping thoughtfully through the bills.
"Well, we didn't usually hit small town jewelry stores, but
this kind of thing, yes."
"How did you find the jobs?"
"A lot of different ways. Sometimes we were hired to get something specific . . . like we were
with Baxter. Other times, the job just
sort of turned up . . . you know, in the right place at the right time. Most often, we looked for something of great
value that there was a black market demand for. Once we identified the target, we'd research the job, decide how
to accomplish it, plan the job, practice the execution until we could do it
without thinking, and then do it. In
most cases, we had the buyer lined up before we ever pulled the job so we
didn't have to hold the merchandise. We'd meet the buyer, make the exchange, and then disappear for a while
and let things cool off. When money
began to run short, we'd start looking for something new."
"And you've been doing this all your life."
"Yes."
He stared down at the money for a moment longer, then looked up
at her. "So what do you want to do
now?"
She hesitated. "I
don't know. Maybe we need to find out
what's going on back in Rockport."
"How do we do that?"
She twisted around and reached for her purse. "I know one place to start."
Pulling her cell phone out, she turned it on and dialed quickly.
After a few seconds, the phone clicked and Lillian Conners voice
said, "Hello?"
"Hi, Mrs. Conners, it's me."
"Francesca! Thank God. Where are you? Is Bobby with you?"
She shot a look at Bobby and gestured for him to stay
silent. "No! I dropped him off in
downtown Rockport on my way out of town. Why? Is something wrong?"
"Hold on, dear. I've got Bobby's father here and he wants to talk with you."
Francesca's eyes widened as she stared at Bobby, then cleared
her throat and said carefully, "Hello, Mr. Evans. Is something wrong? Where's Bobby?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Bobby's father
replied gruffly. "I'm desperate to
find him. You say he's not with you?"
"No, sir. I dropped
him at the 4-way stop downtown this morning. He said he had some stuff he needed to do. He was pretty upset when he
saw me this morning, but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. What's going on?"
"He and Matt got into a fight this morning. Matt was pretty upset and Dr. Mason and I
are searching for Bobby."
Francesca frowned in concern. "Dr. Mason? Was Matt hurt?" The stricken look on Bobby's face
caused Francesca to add, "Bobby would never hurt his brother!"
"We're trying to locate Bobby to find out exactly what
happened. If you know anything . . .
anything at all . . . I'd really appreciate it if you'd tell me."
Francesca thought quickly. Just enough of the truth might get her a bit more information. "He came to see me early this morning .
. . around 7:30 or so. He was seriously
upset. He couldn't sit still . . . kept
pacing the room. He told me that you'd
gotten him a job in the office at the plant, but that he didn't want to work
there. He said that you were pushing
him to take it and not giving him the chance to try to find something that he
would like better." She sighed. "I got the feeling there was something else, Mr. Evans, but he just
didn't want to talk about it. You say
he and Matt got into a fight? Matt is okay, right?"
"Yes, yes, he'll be fine. A bump on the head and some bruises is all. Nothing serious. Did he say where he was going when you
dropped him off?"
"No, sir, he didn't. Just that he had an idea about something he could do instead of working
in your office. He didn't say what that
might be. But I don't understand. What could possibly have caused Matt and
Bobby to get into a fight?"
"They didn't get into a fight," Jim Evans snapped, his
patience beginning to wear thin. "Bobby attacked his brother!"
"He did not!" she snapped back shrilly. "Bobby would never do that! Not without
a good reason!"
"Now, you see here . . ." Francesca could hear raised
voices in the background and Jim's voice cut off abruptly, to be replaced by a
calm, reassuring voice.
"Francesca, this is Dr. Mason."
"Dr. Mason! What's going on? Why is Mr. Evans saying such
awful things? I don't understand . . ."
"It's all right, Francesca. Just stay calm. There was
a misunderstanding between Matt and Bobby and tensions have been running so
high recently that the entire situation just got out of hand. There was no real harm done, but it's
important that we find Bobby. We could
really use your help. When will you be
home?"
"Not until later this evening. I've got some things to do yet and then I've got to drive home."
"Where are you?"
"Syracuse."
"He gave you no idea where he might be going or what he was
going to do?"
"No."
Barbara sighed. "All right. We'll keep
looking for him. You take care getting
back here, you understand."
"Yes, ma'am. And
when you find him, please ask him to call me. He knows the number."
"I'll tell him."
Francesca hit the power button and looked at Bobby. "They're searching for you."
"That's no surprise," Bobby replied. Francesca saw him struggle with himself
before he finally said, "Is Matt okay?"
She nodded sharply. "Yes!" Quickly she told him what had been said. "They said it was a misunderstanding,
Bobby. You really need to talk to Matt
. . ."
Bobby shook his head. "I didn't hurt him, that's all I really wanted to know. I would never want to do that. He's still my brother. But I also don't want to hear his
excuses." He took a deep breath and looked at Francesca. "Tell me something."
"What?"
"Can you teach me to do what you do?"
"Teach you to be a thief?" Francesca said, sounding
shaken.
"Yes."
"I . . . y-yes, probably. But Bobby, you don't want to be a thief! Really, you don't. It's not glamorous the way TV and the movies
make it look. It's hard work and it's
dangerous and there are times when you have to live in the most horrible
conditions. You have no friends and no
home and you're constantly on the move. And there's no protection of any kind. If you get into trouble, you can't go to the law for help. They're the enemy. And one slip . . . just one . . . and you end up in jail. Trust me when I tell you, you don't want
that to happen. There's NOTHING
worse."
Bobby shook his head. "I don't think so, Francesca. It can't be worse than what's waiting for me back there. That's prison, too, but it's an even worse
kind. It's the kind that looks pretty
and is full of happy, contented people that make you wish you were dead each
and every day of your life. I can't
take it any more." He stared at her helplessly. "I was so furious this morning, I could have killed
Matt." The horror of that realization shown in his eyes. "My twin brother . . . the person who
has meant more to me than life itself since the day I was born. Something has to give, Francesca, and if I
go back, it's sure to be me."
"So what do you want to do?"
"Can we make a living doing this?"
Francesca nodded. "Yes. I can teach you. It may not be easy at first. You have to get
your strength and flexibility back, and until you really know what you're doing
and have gotten good at it, it's probably better if you stay in the background. And if you're willing to take the risks and
learn to do aerial work, then I think we can get to be the best professional
thieves out there."
After a time, Bobby nodded. "Then if you're willing, I'd say we walk away. Today . . . right
now. And we don't look back."
Francesca hesitated. "There's nothing you want to go back for? Nothing you don't want to
leave behind?"
"There's a lot I don't want to leave behind, but I don't
think I have a choice any more. If I go
back, I'll never get away. What about
you? Is there anything you want to go back for?"
"No," Francesca said quietly. "And that's your first lesson in being
a thief. Never own anything that is so
important to you that you can't walk away without it at an instant's
notice."
Bobby nodded solemnly. "Noted. But there is one
thing that I will value above everything else. One thing I will never be able to leave behind."
"What?"
"You."
* * * * *
It was two weeks later that the letter arrived at the Evans
home. It was written on lined notebook
paper and mailed in a cheap, plain white envelope. It was postmarked New York
City and there was no return address. Jim Evans opened it with shaking hands as his wife and son waited
tensely. It wasn't long, but it said
everything that needed to be said.
Dear Dad, Mom and Matt,
I've decided that the time has come for me
to go. I wish the break hadn't come
like this, but I know that if I came home and tried to explain it to you, we'd
only end up fighting again. Since that
would serve no purpose I've decided to just leave it at this. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.
Matt, I want you to know that I'm really
sorry for what happened. You're my
brother and I'll always love you. I've
come to understand that I have no reason to be angry with you about the
situation with Marla. If the two of you
can make each other happy, then I'm happy for you both. Tell her that I'm sorry and that I hope she
understands it was all for the best. I
wasn't the person she thought I was and she never would have been happy with
me.
As you've probably already guessed, I asked
Francesca to go with me and she agreed. I love her and together we'll build a new life for ourselves. She asks that you extend her thanks to the
Conners family for everything they did for her. Tell them that I appreciate it, too. They were good friends when she really needed it and that means a
lot to both of us.
I'm sorry things didn't work out
better. Please know that I love you all
and will miss you.
Take
care,
Bobby
© 2000 Debbie Kluge
DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 2000 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights reserved. Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.
