Disclaimer:  Don't own them, never will.  Just borrowing them for my own entertainment, and making absolutely no profit doing it. 

Too Young

Chapter Ten

Lucas and Jenny

When Lucas didn't show up at dinner, both Mike and Anne went upstairs.  Mike went to reinforce the expectation—breakfast and dinner attendance were mandatory house rules.  Anne went because…she was curious.  Jenny had talked her ear off this afternoon.  Anne didn't think it was possible to have three hours of conversation fodder from a five-minute meeting, but Jenny had managed it.  She was smitten with this boy.  'Oh dear…neither she or Mike were ready for Jenny to experience her first romance..' 

Mike knocked.  When there was no answer, he turned the knob and led the way in.  "Lucas…ssssh…"  The boy's name turned in to a silencing sound as Anne started talking from behind him.

"…what.."  She whispered.  He moved out of her way.  Lucas' things had been put away, boxes stacked neatly in the bottom of his closet.  His computer was hooked up and running—a complex algorithm spooling itself across the screen.  The boy lay on his back, his cheeks flushed.  He was sound asleep.

"Mike…"  Anne whispered.  "How old is he?  He…he's just a little kid!  What were his parents thinking--sending him here alone…"  She stopped abruptly when Lucas turned over, his eyes fluttering open.  He yawned, rubbing the sleep away, and then turned red when he saw that he had company.

"I…I..didn't mean to be late—am I late?  His wide blue eyes looked between the two of them.  He looked…frightened.

Anne spoke up.  "We did come up to get you.  I'm Anne, and you're…"

"Lucas Wolenczak."  He got up quickly and took her proffered hand.  "Pleased to meet you.  Sorry I fell asleep.  I guess the time change got to me…"  His smile was infectious. 'Oh, Jenny, no wonder.'  Anne thought, and then said, "Are you hungry?  I made lasagna."

"Sounds good.  Let me wash up and I'll be right down."

Anne raised her eyebrows at Mike on the way back downstairs.  She laughed softly.  "…'let me wash up'…?  Mike, he has better manners than you do."

"I have perfect manners, dear."  He said snootily.  Then he leaned toward her and belched the words 'I love you' in her ear.

"Oh, gross!"  But Anne laughed harder and slapped at his arm as they went into the kitchen to plate up the meal.

After dinner, Lucas washed the dishes while Jenny dried.  They were silent for a while, then Jenny spoke hesitantly.  "Uncle Mike said that you're a double major?  Physics and Computers?"

"Yes—I'm very interested in engineering as well, so I'm fitting classes in when I can."

"Oh.  You've got a heavy math load.  How many units are you taking this semester?"

"24.  You?"

"24!  You're going to be gone from morning to night every day!  I only have 20."

"That's still a lot.  I have a Saturday lab at the Stanford Linear Accelerator Center too."

"How did you get that?  The UEO Department of Energy runs that….wait….Wolenczak…your dad—he's Lawrence Wolenczak!  No wonder…wow, that's great!"

He smiled at her excitement.  It would be incredible to be in the SLAC.  However, he doubted that he'd do much beside observe and take notes for quite a while.  His dad had the pull to get him in, but he'd have to earn the right to work in the facility.  He had some ideas about marine environment remediation he'd like to test there.

"Hey—where'd you go?  You were a million miles away."  She grinned at him.  She was so…beautiful.  His stomach lurched a little.  'Get a grip, Lucas' he admonished himself.

"Sorry, Jenny.  Just thinking."

"There's plenty of time for deep thoughts when classes start—what do you say to popcorn and scrabble with us?"  She smiled at him as he handed her the last dish.

"Why not?"  He hung the dishtowel over the rack and followed her out into the main room.

For that evening and many others afterward, Lucas was welcomed into Mike, Anne, and Jenny's family activities.  From time to time, the other student residents joined them, but Lucas was the only regular for after dinner talk and scrabble.  Mike and Anne often invited him in for a movie, or to play some of the other antique board games in the sitting room.  Inevitably, Lucas compared their family with his own, and his was found wanting.  He fully recognized now what 'family' meant—people caring for and loving each other unconditionally.  He'd never experienced anything like it…and didn't know how he'd lived so long without it.

That first day of classes, he and Jenny discovered that they were in the same labs for two hours each week.  They would often meet on the commons to talk or to compare lecture notes.  Being with Jenny was so easy now.  He knew her moods, and for the most part, adapted himself to her.  She could be very confusing though.  Sometimes, she treated him like a little brother, trying to boss him around the dorm house and picking silly fights with him.  Other times, like today, she would act how he imagined a best friend would behave—seeking him out to confide in…and being a sympathetic listener when he shared his frustration about failed experiments at the SLAC.  She was fast becoming the most important person in his life, but he had no idea how she felt about him…it was puzzling.

In another month, he would be twelve.  He idly wondered if his father or mother would remember his birthday, and if they did, would they send him anything?  He doubted it.  He shrugged off the thought.  He was supposed to meet Jenny in a few minutes.  Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he took the stairs up the Hoover tower two at a time.  Jenny was saving a spot for them; she had arrived earlier.  The walkway at the top was 285 feet above the campus, and the view was incredible.  He arrived at the top, puffing a little.  Jenny was waiting in their usual spot.  She smiled as he approached.

"Lucas!  Did you bring lunch?"

"Yes.  Right here…and chocolate cake for dessert."  He smiled shyly at her, knowing it was her favorite.

"Yum…well, sit down already…Aren't you starving?"

He realized then that he had just been standing and staring at her.  She grinned and winked at him.  Startled, he laughed—then settled himself beside her.

They ate their picnic in a companionable silence, comfortable with each other.  When they started on the cake, Jenny spoke up.

"Lucas, the dorm closes for Thanksgiving break next week.  Where are you going?"  She was curious.  All the other residents had been discussing their plans over dinner for the past two weeks, looking forward to the four-day break from school.  In all those conversations, he had said nothing.  She waited a moment, but when he didn't speak, she began talking about her family's trip to Tahoe to ski.  She, Mike, and Anne were renting a cabin there, and would be gone for the full break. 

As soon as she paused, Lucas said, "Sounds like fun.  My mom is coming to get me."

"Oh…I hope that I can meet her.  I've never met either of your parents…"  It dawned on her that Lucas never spoke about his family.  "Lucas, you never talk about your parents—what are they like?"

He didn't want to answer…didn't want to think about either one of them, but he knew that Jenny's curiosity was not to be trifled with…so he told some selective truths.  "My…parents are still married, but separated.  Mom lives in San Diego, and Dad's home is in Buffalo—but right now, he's at World Power."

She smiled at him and wiped chocolate from the side of his mouth with her finger.  Then, she stuck her finger up to his lips for him to…lick it off?  He felt the blush flaming his ears.  She giggled, then stuck the finger in her own mouth, sucking the chocolate off.  He loved watching her, loved it when she touched his hand, his arm, his face.  He didn't know why his body reacted the way it did to her touch, it seemed like his face was always beet red with embarrassment or his hands were shaking, and when he was around her, he dropped things like a clumsy oaf.  But he definitely wanted to be around her.

She smiled softly at him.  "So, your mom's coming next Tuesday.  I bet you're looking forward to seeing her.  How long has it been?"

"A year or so.."  At her shocked look, he quickly added.  "I…I can talk to her anytime I want, but I live across the country from her…well, I did before coming here to school."

"Lucas…"  Her voice was soft.  "I…I can't imagine going that long without seeing my…my Aunt and Uncle."  Her voice cracked a little at the end, and Lucas leaned over to give her a gentle hug.  The movement brought home to him the fact that he had grown three inches since school started.  Now, he was taller than Jenny.

He wasn't fooled by her substitution of 'Aunt and Uncle'.  She meant…mom and dad—and it had been way longer than a year since she'd seen Mary and Ryan McCallum, her parents.  Lucas patted her arm awkwardly.  He wished that he had the words to comfort her, to take away the sadness.

She wiped her eyes, looking up at him through tear-laden lashes.  He wiped away a tear that had made its way to her chin, and she captured his hand as he did so, and squeezed it, smiling tremulously.  She sat back then, making an effort to shake off her sorrow.

"What..what time will your mom be here?  What time are you.."

"Leaving?  About 7:00 a.m.  My mom's…driver will be by about then—I don't think that she'll come here.  She will probably just wait for me at home."  Lucas didn't want to think about leaving…so he changed the subject.

"Did you understand that five variable equation and graph?"  Jenny blinked, startled; then she smiled at him, accepting the shift in conversation.

"Yes.  You just have to set up the problem this way…"  And with that, they moved to less emotionally shaky territory.  They talked and laughed about classes and professors until it was time to go.

That night, while Lucas listened to Viktor snore, he thought about his mom…and..Carl…and  Tuesday—and the four days he'd live through with them before he could come back….home?  The word surprised him, but it felt…right.  No, it felt..perfect.  This place was home.  Here, with Mike and Anne and Jenny…this was home now.  He smiled sleepily, closed his eyes, relaxing, his breathing deepening as he fell asleep.

On Tuesday, Lucas was packed and ready by 6:00 a.m.  He left a note pinned to the kitchen message board for Mike and Anne and went quietly out the front door to wait on the porch.

Carl was sitting on the steps.  "You kept me waiting."  He snapped, frowning.

"Mom said 7:00.  Sorry."  'Great.  One minute into vacation, and he's already mad.' But Lucas kept his expression carefully neutral, not allowing this thought to show.

"Come on, then.  Let's go."  Carl opened the trunk, and Lucas threw his duffle inside.

They climbed in the car and drove toward San Diego.  Carl kept the radio blasting to avoid conversation, which was fine with Lucas.  He didn't want to see Carl, let alone talk to him.  'Only three days and 23 hours to go.'  He thought gloomily.

Three and a half days later, Carl pulled his BMW back into the dorm driveway.  He was so sick of this kid.  Everything about him was annoying, infuriating.  Carl didn't hate too many people, but he hated this kid, this smart-mouthed, obnoxious brat of Cynthia's.  At least she could have driven him back, but, again, he was stuck transporting the little creep.  He was not this abomination's chauffer.  Lucas was a freak, an aberration of nature, so smart that he made Carl feel stupid, and Carl was brilliant.  He could see in the kid's eyes how superior he thought he was.  It made Carl want to slap the crap right out of him.  But Cyn had warned him, 'no marks anyone can see, nothing on the face, nothing that would bleed'.  He glanced angrily over at Lucas.  The boy sat, unnaturally still, waiting for Carl's permission to get out of the car.  His downcast eyes were heavily shadowed.  Carl could tell that he hadn't slept much.  He certainly hadn't eaten much, whining to his mom about how his stomach hurt.  Sure, Carl had hit him a there a few times, but not as often or as hard as he want to—the little bastard was just a baby.  Carl lifted his hand and felt a rush of power when Lucas flinched away.  'Good!' He thought viciously.  'Good.  He's afraid of me.' 

"Get out.  I want to get back to San Diego…and—you find somewhere else to go at Christmas.  We don't want you back, understand?"

Lucas nodded and opened the door.  He slid out, trying to stand straight.  His stomach twisted.  It felt like he'd been eating razor blades or knives.  Carl had hit him several times every day in the same place.  It was agony just to stand.  He hadn't been able to sleep or to eat.  Every time he tried to choke something down, it came right back up, and he thought some of it was bloody.  He knew that he had blood in his urine…but that was going away.  It was lighter today, anyway…and it didn't burn so bad…when he went to the bathroom.

He watched, his eyes dull, as Carl pulled away, and then bent to hoist his bag.  Without any warning, he vomited, falling to his knees.  It smelled disgusting, and he gagged at the odor, retching again, but not bringing anything up this time—it was just dry heaves now.  But every movement tore at his bruised abdomen, and even on his hands and knees, he swayed dizzily.  His vision shadowed at the edges and then narrowed to pinpoints of light.  Dimly, he heard Anne calling to him from the porch.  He struggled to his feet.  He was so tired.

Anne heard the car pull away.  Casually, she looked out the front window, and then froze.  After a long minute, she ran for the front door, yelling for Mike.  Lucas was slumped on the ground, vomiting.  She swallowed, convulsively, wanting to be sick herself.

"What is it…Anne?"  Mike was concerned as he watched Anne fumble with the front door.

"Mike!  Come on!  Someone just dropped Lucas off and he's on the ground out there throwing up!"

"What..?"

Mike pulled open the door and rushed after Anne.  She was already calling to Lucas.  The boy had made it to his feet, but he looked like a ghost, looked ready to fall flat at any moment.  Mike outdistanced Anne and got to his side first.  Lucas' knees buckled and Mike barely got a hold of him in time to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Hey—you sick?  Dumb question…of course you're sick."

Lucas nodded and tried to pull away, but he couldn't seem to stand straight.  He was shaking.

"Mike, get him in the house.  He's shivering."

Anne picked up his duffle and scuffed dirt over the vomit.  It looked like he had been eating licorice or…strawberries?  But it smelled horrible. 

Mike tried to guide Lucas to the house, but the kid couldn't seem to get his feet going right.  After a few steps, Mike swung him into his arms.  He felt like he weighed nothing—had he been eating?  Had he been sick the whole vacation?  Poor kid.  He looked down at Lucas.  The kid was talking, but his voice was so soft that Mike had a hard time hearing him.

"…Mike…put me down…I'm..I'm all right."

"Sure you are."   Mike smiled down at him, but he wanted to scream.  Why had they just dumped him off?  He had obviously been sick for a while.  Didn't they care about him?  Mike knew that he was starting to love Lucas.  He was easy to love, and he was hungry for it.  Anne said that she'd never seen anyone so grateful just to be noticed and included.  She had begun a night-time ritual of hugging him goodnight, and Mike knew Lucas appreciated it, for he sought her out every night just before bed time.  As Mike carried Lucas toward the house, he thought about the first time Anne had hugged this kid.

About three weeks into the school year, Anne, Jenny, and two other dorm students got a severe case of the flu.  Mike tried his best to take care of everyone—and did a good job—but some things didn't get done.  The house was a mess and the laundry piled up, filling the utility room with dirty linens.  Mike and a mostly recovered Anne had taken Jenny and Viktor to the campus infirmary for anti-nausea injections.  They had waited six hours to be seen; it seemed like half the student body was ill.

When they got back to the house, tired and cranky, they walked in the front door and they were met with a wonderful aroma.  Mike sent Jenny and Viktor to their rooms to rest, and then he and Anne followed their noses to the kitchen.  As they entered, Anne gasped.  The kitchen was clean.  Dishes were washed and put away, sinks and counters were scrubbed..even the stove top was clean.  A casserole sat on the counter and there was soup bubbling on the stove. 

"What on earth….?  Where did this come from?"  Anne went to the stove and tasted the soup.  "This is delicious, Mike.  How sweet you are—when did you have the time?"

"I…I didn't do this, Anne."  He looked confused.

They both turned when Lucas came through the doorway, face hidden behind a huge stack of folded sheets and towels.  When Mike spoke, he jumped, almost dropping the load of clean laundry.  Mike steadied the stack, and then took it from the boy's arms, freeing him.

"Lucas!  Did you….you didn't!  This looks great and smells better—you must have worked all day."

Mike had walked behind Anne to set the laundry on the kitchen table.  He looked back in time to see Anne give Lucas a big hug.

Mike watched Lucas' face transform, his feelings visible in his eyes and on his face as he was enfolded in Anne's arms.  He looked startled…shy—then blissfully happy as Anne held him for a long moment talking softly to him.  Mike had blinked back tears.  Lucas acted like no one had ever hugged him before.  What was it with this kid?

He shook his head at the memory as Anne, holding the front door, motioned him inside.

"Put him down on the couch, Mike."  Anne hurried to the bathroom to get the thermometer and a wet towel.  She was back by the time Mike had laid the boy down on the sitting room sofa.  He slipped off Lucas' shoes and gently held him down when the boy tried to sit up.

"Lucas, Anne just wants to take care of you, just take it easy.  How long have you been ill?"  Mike was worried.  Lucas had been pale outside, now he looked almost transparent.  Mike could see the veins in his temple and neck.  He was shaking as if he was cold, but beads of sweat were rolling down his face, and his eyes were unfocused, distant.

"…Mike…let me up…I just..just want to go to bed.  I..I'll be O.K. in the morning.  I'm…just…maybe I have the flu…"  Lucas' voice was weak, fading in and out, and Mike watched his face twist in…pain? …as he tried to get off the couch.

"You stay right there, Lucas."  Anne stuck the thermometer tip inside his ear and pressed the button.  She checked the reading and raised her eyebrows.  "102.1.  Here, Mike, wipe off his face.."  She handed him the damp towel.

"I….I'm going to be sick, Mike."  Lucas looked terribly embarrassed.  Mike got him to the bathroom in time and held his shoulders while he gagged repeatedly.  Mike's nose identified the smell even before his eyes registered the color—this was blood…

Lucas finished and slumped forward.  Mike gently wiped his mouth with the wet towel, and then picked him up.  The boy's eyes slid closed, and he lay, unmoving, in Mike's arms. 

"Anne…"  Mike whispered fiercely, "..he's throwing up blood. Start the car…we need to get him to the hospital now.

Mike held Lucas while Anne drove.  Lucille Packard Children's Hospital was adjunct to Stanford Medical Center and right across the campus.  Lucas moaned once, but did not regain consciousness.  Mike talked to him; he wasn't sure that Lucas could hear him, but it made him feel better anyway. 

"Lucas, buddy.  You need to hang on.  We're almost there.  The doctors will find out what's wrong and fix you up in no time…you just do your part…hang on.  Anne! Hurry!  His breathing…it's getting strange."

Anne could hear the panic in Mike's voice; she could also hear Lucas, and almost wished she couldn't.  Every breath was rattling in his chest or his throat, and sometimes, he would gasp as if he couldn't get enough air.  She almost cried in relief as she turned into the hospital's emergency room parking lot.

Mike rushed Lucas inside, and Anne filled out the paperwork.  Then they both sat down to wait.

One hour passed, then two.  After almost three hours, a stern-faced doctor approached.  "Mr. and Mrs. Norris?  I'm Dr. Lee.  I operated on Lucas"

"How…how is he?  What happened?"

"He…will be fine.  But you've asked the question that Social Services will want to ask you—and Lucas.  They should be here any time."

"What…?  Social Services..?  Why?"  Anne searched the surgeon's face.  He was…glaring at them.

"Lucas has been severely beaten in the last day or two, possibly more than one time.  His peritoneum was torn, both kidneys were badly bruised, and his duodenum, part of his small intestine by his stomach, had ruptured.  That is where the blood in the vomit was coming from.  Additionally…his…back is covered with scars.  I've….seen these types of scars before.  This child has been whipped."

Anne paled.  She closed her eyes and brought one trembling hand up to cover them.  Mike took her other hand and stared at the physician in shock.

"Wait…wait a minute!  You think…think that we did this to him?"

The doctor looked a bit uneasy at Mike's angry tone.

'Does he think that I am going to hit him?'  Mike intentionally softened his tone. Inside he was seething, and scared to death for Lucas.  "We…brought Lucas here directly after he was dropped off by his mother.  He's been at his mom's home in San Diego over the Thanksgiving break.  Anne and I run the dorm house where Lucas is staying.  He's enrolled at Stanford."

"He…is a student here?  He looks too young…I thought that you were his guardians.  I…am sorry if I…"  The doctor now looked uncertainly at them both.

Anne interrupted him, concerned about Lucas.  "Can we see him?"

"No.  You won't be allowed in until Social Services talks to Lucas—alone.  Sorry.  If your story checks out, then you'll be allowed to see him.  Lucas should be moved from recovery to his private room in an hour."  He glanced at his watch, then turned and disappeared back through the OR doors.

Anne had tears in her eyes as she watched him go.  "Oh, Mike…poor Lucas,  oh poor baby…"  She began to cry as he pulled her into his arms.

Mike was furious.  He didn't know what to do with the anger building in him.  'What kind of…two-legged…animal..would do these hideous things to Lucas—Lucas was so easy to love, would do anything for you once he got to know you.'  Mike's head filled with questions; but he had no answers.  They needed to talk to Lucas.  For now, all they could do was wait and hold each other and….Oh, God…what were they going to tell the rest of the kids at the house?  What were they going to tell Jenny?  She had been at the library when they rushed out—she knew that Lucas was coming home today.

They sat in silence for a long time, just holding each other, and trying to absorb, to accept…the unacceptable.  Then, an unfamiliar voice spoke, addressing them, and Mike looked up.

"Hello?  I'm Katherine O'Shaughney from Social Services, foster care division."  She showed them her license.  "I am on my way in to interview Lucas.  I just talked to the surgeon and he referred me to you to find out a little more about Lucas' background.  What can you tell me?"  Her sharp eyes studied them both.

"What…sort of information…what do you want to know?"

"Parents…home life…he's eleven?"

"Twelve next month"

"Awfully young to be away at college, without his parents—seems too young for this life, and he has no family here."

"He has us…" Anne answered quickly.  Mike looked at her, surprised.  She had just lectured him the other day about keeping his distance from the dorm residents, especially Lucas.  They were responsible for the kids under their care, but it would be unhealthy for them to get too involved in their lives.  These young people had families, and they would eventually all go home, and the Norris family needed to stay out of this 'parental' territory.  They did not have the right to interfere or complicate the parent/child relationship.  This lecture was ludicrous coming from his wife who hugged Lucas nightly.  But she didn't see any contradiction. Anne noted his surprise and smiled sweetly, remembering what she had said.  He squeezed her hand, twice, his signal for 'I told you so'.

Ms. O'Shaughney looked from one to the other.  They were certainly reacting like worried parents.  They didn't fit the abuser profile…it didn't feel right.  She was inclined to agree with the surgeon.  He'd said that he now believed this couple wasn't involved.

Mike spoke next.  "We'll try to answer any questions that you have, but Lucas is reticent to talk about his past.  We don't know much.   His mom and dad are separated.  His father, Dr. Wolenczak—yes, he's that Dr. Wolenczak—is at World Power, his mother is in San Diego.  We didn't see who picked Lucas up last Tuesday, nor did we see who dropped him off today."

Anne chimed in.  "As soon as I heard the car, I looked out.  Lucas was on the ground, sick.  We ran out, and brought him here."

The social worker nodded as Anne spoke.  She was jotting notes in a file.  When Anne stopped, Ms. O'Shaughney gazed levelly at her and Mike.  "I need to interview Lucas.  I think that you should wait right outside—as long as he agrees with your account, I'll let you in immediately."

She beckoned them to follow her.  Mike helped Anne up, and they trailed behind the social worker to Lucas' door.  Ms. O'Shaughney motioned them to sit down in the nearby waiting room.  Then she opened the door and walked inside.

Mike and Anne sat down to wait—again.  She leaned against him, and he put his arm around her.  Both were thinking about Lucas, wondering what had happened, and praying that they could help him through it.

In Lucas' room, Ms. O'Shaughney had placed his file on the side table and approached his bed.  She had an excellent memory and chose never to take notes while interviewing a child.  She found that she was more effective by directing her undivided attention to the victim, watching their eyes and their facial expressions had, many times, given her more truthful information than their words.

Lucas had been looking out the window, but he turned toward her when she cleared her throat.

"Hello, Lucas.  My name is Katherine O'Shaughney.  I need to speak with you.  I'm from Children's Protective Services."

To be continued…