DECEPTIONS

by Spense

CHAPTER SIX

After rehashing John's interview with Schaeffer over dinner that night, Jeff and John returned to the apartment and talked with the other family members via vidphone until late evening. When they were going over it for the sixth time, Jeff called a halt. It was starting to get late and they weren't accomplishing a thing. John headed off to bed in exhaustion.

The state investigators had a great deal to answer for in Jeff's opinion. He knew they were just doing their job, but they were leaving a disturbing aftermath in their wake. Alan, of course, and now Gordon and John.

Jeff called Lady Penelope and filled her in on the latest. She was as frustrated as the rest of them. She had petitioned to the courts to be appointed Alan's foster guardian, but had been denied. Nothing seemed to be going their way. After encouraging Jeff and making him promise to get some rest at some point, she signed off.

But Jeff wasn't even close to sleep. He was too anxious. Instead, he picked up the reports that Schaeffer had dropped off for him. One was the transcript of John's interview. Nothing new there – it was just as damning as John had indicated. The remaining reports were on Alan himself. One in particular made Jeff's blood run cold. Apparently Alan had already undergone a rigorous physical exam while in the state's custody. Jeff's anger began to burn again as he read the findings and the results of what they had been looking for. The findings had been negative – of course. As though anybody could even think that anyone in his family or in his immediate circle on the island would even conceive of such a thing. Reading the highly detailed, impersonal report, Jeff simmered, his banked anger growing. Good grief, how invasive . . . Poor Alan. That was miserable for an adult, but for a fifteen-year-old kid. And if they had told him what they were looking for . . .

Then he read the next paragraph.CPS had requested that Alan's guardian, a physician, examine him again, as he had been allowed unsupervised contact with his oldest brother in error. The thought of his youngest son going through that once, but much less twice sent Jeff completely over the edge. Why had the suspicion even come up? And it was ludicrous that anybody could ever consider than Scott might . . . Scott himself was going to be devastated at just the suggestion.

Jeff lost control and hurled the heavy glass he was holding at the marble fireplace, shattering it into hundreds of glittering fragments. The similarities of his reaction to John's was not lost on him. He looked out the penthouse window at the snowy, sparkling skyline, breathing hard. How could any of this have ever come about? He couldn't even protect himself right now, much less shelter any of his sons.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan huddled in his bed at the Jorgenson's farm, wide awake at two in the morning. This had been the evening from hell in a week and a half of nightmare. After dinner, Dr. Jorgensen had taken him into the small office/exam room he kept at the back of the house and told him that he needed to give him a physical exam, at the request of the courts.

It had been almost an exact repeat of the exam he'd been given by the state physician when Alan had been taken from his school and put into the care of the courts. That one had been more thorough and invasive than anything he had ever experienced, and one of the most horrible things he'd ever gone through. This time was almost worst, as he had a suspicion of what was going to come. No matter how much Dr. Jorgenson's tried to talk to him, and tried to get him to relax, Alan just couldn't, making the whole process that much more uncomfortable. Alan endured without saying a word, silent tears running down his cheeks at times, hands clenching the sheet on the examining table.

Finally it was over, and the physician finished up, telling Alan kindly that he didn't need to come to the family room if he didn't want to, he could just go to his own room.

Still not speaking, Alan retreated to that scant refuge. He'd tried to read for awhile, but even that was impossible. He finally just sat and stared at the snow for a long time after that, still holding everything inside until he knew he would be alone and uninterrupted.

When Tina came to tell him to put the light out and go to bed, he'd obeyed in silence. Thank heavens she hadn't touched him. He didn't know if he could have contained his rage if she had. And then where would they be? He just wanted to be with his family. Then he could just rant and rage at his brothers and they would either just laugh at him, or give back as good as he gave out, or just hold him and tell him it was okay. When had all of that become so wrong?

So now it was two in the morning and he still hadn't slept. He'd pretended the couple of times Tina had looked in on him. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone?

He couldn't even cry. He'd spent so much time trying to repress what he was feeling. How did Scott do it? He was always so serious, and so in control. John and Virgil were too. Alan knew he'd never done very well at controlling his emotions. Talk about a failure. He knew he had a short temper. But he'd also seen any one of his brothers lose their tempers too. But not as often as he had, he knew that. Well, he wouldn't fail them this time. If what it took was to be the 'perfect kid', then that's what he'd do. He wouldn't give these people any ammunition to use against his family. None of them had done anything wrong!

His stomach clenched in response at his anger. Oh no, he couldn't possibly be . . . But he was. Alan barely made it to the bathroom before he lost the contents of his stomach. Even this he did as silently as possible, so as not to draw attention to himself. The dry heaves that followed lasted for a long time after he'd lost anything that could came up. Alan was able to return to bed at about three-thirty, and finally dropped off to sleep, exhausted.