~.~
X.O.X
Wednesday, 1st September, 1869
One Day Later – 19 Weeks Gestation
X.O.X
~.~
Brian found himself tangled up in his blankets, trying to convince himself that the nightmare he'd just had was only a bad dream.
He blinked several times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
"Probably just a dream," he whispered to himself.
The little boy sighed, feeling very confused. Maybe he should just go back to sleep.
But what if?
Quietly, he got to his feet and pushed his way through the curtain until he was by the dining table.
Suspiciously, he glanced around the room.
He had to squint to distinguish different items in the room. Carefully, he moved around the table towards his mother's bed, moving slowly so as to not stub his toe in the process.
"Ma?" he called quietly once he had arrived by the side of the bed.
"Please Ma, I had a bad dream," Brian crouched down to his knees, not knowing what to do when she wouldn't wake up.
Brian glanced again around the room, still wanting to be sure that no-one else was around.
Looking between his mother's face, fast asleep against the pillow, and the oil lamp by her bed, Brian quickly decided to light the lamp.
Even if that didn't wake her, at least he could check for intruders.
Waiting until the lamp had flickered, Brian turned it down to a medium setting, before kneeling on the floor again.
"Ma?" he repeated a third time, knowing enough not to grab her hand or arm.
Brian thought about all the times over the past few weeks that he had sat watching his mother sleep.
She always looked peaceful when she was asleep.
He studied the long tress of hair that trailed from the right-hand side of her temple down her cheek, along her neck to her chest.
Very gently, Brian reached forwards to brush the strands of hair back from her face. He could feel the softness of her cheek under his fingertips.
Brian pulled away quickly, seeing her eyebrows and mouth move at his touch.
He barely had time to crouch back down into a kneeling position beside the bed.
Brian watched helplessly as his mother let out a soft whine and rolled over onto her left side.
Brian frowned, not knowing if he'd woken her or not.
As quietly as possible, Brian tip-toed around to the other side of the bed, trying to see if she was awake.
He couldn't see her eyes, as her hair was splayed across her face.
"Wake up, Ma," Brian whispered again, as slowly as possible, bringing his right knee up to the edge of the bed, again reaching to move the hair from across Michaela's face.
Brian leaned forward, squinting against the dim light, managing to pull the thicker tresses of hair back from across her face.
"It's okay, Ma," he whispered, seeing her eyelids flutter as he struggled to understand why the hair wasn't moving from her face.
"Where?" Michaela whispered, barely conscious.
Brian trailed his left hand further down along her hair, still unsure as to why he couldn't brush it back from her face.
"No, please," Michaela whined, for the first time moving her head.
Brian saw her hair tighten at her jawline, in the space of several seconds, seeing her move her head enough to trap her hair around her neck, further restricting her movements.
Instinctively, Brian kept pulling at her hair, not realizing that it was his contact with her that was exacerbating her distress.
"Let me go, let me go!" Michaela felt herself gradually rise from sleep into consciousness.
It wasn't until that moment that Brian looked down to realize his mother's long hair was trapped under his knee.
Trying to adjust his position next to her on the bed, Michaela moved at the exact same time Brian moved his knee.
The little boy lost his balance and awkwardly fell on to her, quickly intensifying the interaction.
"Ma," he tried to pull his left hand up from under the quilt where it had become tangled.
At the same moment, Michaela felt the familiar pressure of a weight on her torso and a hand on her left breast.
Both struggled for breath, and moved quickly, attempting to separate from the other, inadvertently complicating the situation.
"Stop, please," Michaela begged, unable to get her hands out from under the quilt and feeling the threads of her own hair cut tighter into her neck.
She couldn't breathe. All she could do was feel.
Brian was more aware of not crushing the baby, caring less about where his hands fell so long as it wasn't on her stomach.
It wasn't until he heard her sustained whimper, that Brian looked down to see his hand on her breast.
Again, he moved just at the same time she did, conflicted by his worry and unsure of exactly what he was experiencing.
Trying to balance on his other hand against the bed in order to move his right hand, Brian looked down to see Michaela finally open her eyes enough to see him for the first time.
"Get off me!" Michaela screeched, still reconciling herself with reality, and ensuring her face and neck were free of hair.
The little boy looked from the petrified expression on her face, downwards, just as he managed to slide across her to the right-hand side of the bed, his nose and mouth burying into the quilt and stray tresses of her hair as he at least had ceased contact with her.
Crawling back onto all fours, to try to move off the bed, Brian looked up as Michaela pulled herself into a sitting position, and frantically moved her hair from her face and neck.
Brian looked down awkwardly, realizing that in the absence of her hair, the buttons of her nightgown had opened, and he could see the fullness of her breast against the dim light of the lamp.
Both struggling for breath and neither speaking, Brian was aware of the connection between the memory of the softness of her breast under his hand, and the smooth fullness of her skin before his eyes.
He swallowed, conflicted between curiosity and embarrassment.
Brian looked up almost immediately, to see the confused and hurt expression on her face.
Only then did she follow the little boy's gaze downwards.
"I, I'm sorry," he looked away sheepishly, crawling backwards to the edge of the bed.
Brian remained crouched on to the floor, not sure what to do next; he just wanted to remain out of sight, the indescribable guilt and shame crushing down on him.
Taking several deeper breaths to quell her anxiety, Michaela quickly fastened the buttons on her nightdress.
"Ma?" Colleen called out, having stirred with the noise and the light from the lamp.
"It's all right, Colleen," Michaela called, looking down to reorient herself to the familiar patchwork quilt, as she neatened the bedding around her, and repositioned the pillows.
It wasn't until she settled herself back down under the bedclothes, that Michaela gave Brian a second thought.
She looked around the dimly lit room, not seeing him anywhere, but then not particularly wanting to.
Michaela turned onto her side and protectively drew the quilt further up to her shoulders.
Deliberately, she found her attention absorbed, as she studied the flickering flame within the lamp.
Michaela gripped the edge of the quilt and readjusted her head against the pillows, hoping she would be able to fall asleep soon.
Michaela, he is just a child, it was an accident.
She found herself looking back over at the lamp, noticing the small, unpredictable movements of the flame.
Accident or not, she knew it didn't change how disgusted she felt. What she couldn't work out was whether the contempt was directed towards Brian, or towards herself.
Alone with the thought, Michaela had just allowed her eyes to drop closed when she heard the front door open.
Eyes locking directly back on the door, she only had enough time to make out the shape and color of Brian's blond crop of hair as he disappeared out of the homestead, the door closing behind him.
With a tired sigh, Michaela closed her eyes and beckoned sleep.
Why did he look? Why did it bother me that he looked?
She opened her eyes again, to glance down at her chest. Michaela felt uncomfortable enough with all the changes to her body the past few months, the rapid enlargement and firmness of her breasts being the least of her concerns.
Is it normal?
She shook her head, knowing that wasn't all it was. She'd not minded hugging Brian, or having him in her personal space at other times.
Sitting up quickly, Michaela realized exactly what it was that bothered her. She'd felt watched. Coveted.
She hadn't felt such repulsion since her abduction.
Brian had enjoyed looking at her, and she hadn't wanted him to.
She closed her eyes, trying to will some of the more intrusive flashbacks away.
Glancing up at the ceiling with an audible gasp, Michaela knew it was pointless. She could see his face, feel his hands on her arm, her face, hips, on her breasts.
Michaela had no choice but to reach for her dressing gown and pull herself to the edge of the bed.
Moving helped.
Why do men do that? What gives them the right? Do some women enjoy it?
She checked the clock on the mantel, realizing that it didn't matter what time it was, she couldn't sleep.
Michaela reflected that her father used to look at women. It used to make her mother so angry. A small smile came to her lips, remembering one particular evening in which they'd all attended the opening night of Mozart's Don Giovanni, when she was fifteen. Just her and her parents, which was quite unusual.
Her parents had been bickering since before they'd left the house, as her mother didn't consider the opera suitable for her. Josef had already reassured her that she'd reviewed the libretto, he'd answered any and all questions she had. It was simply a play after all.
She had thoroughly enjoyed the production; the passion and enthrallment of the music. The plot had intrigued her and served for ongoing discussion with her father.
Perhaps the most significant aspect of the evening, aside from Jenny Lind's exemplary performance of 'Or sai chi l'onore', had been the disagreement between her mother and father following his glancing at the other women dressed in their finest ballgowns.
Michaela frowned, realizing the plot of the opera itself was also relevant to her worries.
Why is it acceptable for men to covet women, even to assault them, out of their own desires? Why do we excuse it?
Even in marriage, why is it assumed that a woman is just expected to 'perform her wifely duties', as her mother had phrased it to her many years earlier, much to Michaela's disgust at the time.
Why was her mother permissible to her Father looking at women?
She sighed, feeling confused again.
Looking isn't harmless either.
I don't want Colleen to think that looking is harmless, not if she doesn't like it.
For the initial four days of her abduction, the majority of her fear had stemmed from 'just looking'. She knew it wasn't the same as that night at the opera, watching her father admire the other women. But what if they hadn't wanted it? Did her father have the right to just assume?
Consent can't just be assumed, nor should the responsibility solely be on the female to provide it, or not.
Michaela looked across to Colleen, the young girl fast asleep. She knew she needed to speak with her in the morning.
She sighed, noticing Brian's empty cot.
Surely, he had just gone out to the barn? She shook her head, remembering the last time he'd be angry with her and run away from home.
With a sigh, Michaela looked back towards her bed, knowing she needed to at least try and obtain some sleep.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Colleen opened her eyes, stretching, as she turned over in her cot.
Blinking several times, she quickly realized from the amount of light in the cabin that it was later than it should've been. She reached for her dressing gown and pushed through the white curtain, realizing Michaela was still asleep.
"Ma? Ma, it's late," Colleen called, lighting the stove, and starting to prepare the breakfast items.
"Colleen?" Michaela answered wearily, opening her eyes, but blinking against the brightness of the sun.
"Are you all right? Not like you to sleep in?" Colleen frowned, also noticing that Michaela had slept in her dressing gown.
Michaela sighed tired. "I'm fine."
Michaela sighed tiredly.
"You gonna go in to work?" Colleen cracked the eggs into the bowl.
"I don't know," she answered honestly.
"The longer you leave it, the harder it's gonna get Dr Mike," Colleen replied.
"I know," she acknowledged. "Where's your brother?"
Colleen frowned, realizing Brian hadn't been in his bed when she woke up.
"I don't know, thought he was up already," Colleen frowned.
Michaela felt the uncomfortable reminder of the incident the night before.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Here, Dr Mike," Colleen brought the cup of freshly brewed coffee over to Michaela's bedside.
"Thank-you Colleen," Michaela yawned, and pulled herself up into a sitting position.
"You ain't goin' into work today?" Colleen returned to the table, taking her seat, and eating the scrambled eggs she'd just prepared.
"I didn't sleep well last night," Michaela answered succinctly.
That was one way of putting it at least.
"Yeah, thought I saw the light on." Colleen shrugged, also pretty sure she heard a raised voice, but wasn't entirely sure if it had been a dream.
"I think the trip has caught up with me," Michaela justified.
"True," Colleen answered. "I made scrambled eggs and bacon. Did you want a plate?"
"Maybe a little later." Michaela wasn't sure if the queasiness was pregnancy or anxiety related. "Where are your brothers?"
"Matthew's already left. Said he has a long day at Miss Olive's. Brian said he ain't hungry. He's gettin' Taffy and Flash ready," Colleen updated Michaela.
"Did he say anything else?" Michaela asked suspiciously.
"Asked me to bring him his clothes," Colleen shrugged. "Said he slept in the barn last night. Said he wants his cot moved out there permanent. Matthew said he'd do it when he gets back tonight."
"He did?" Michaela frowned, trying to remember exactly what she'd said to him last night.
Colleen nodded, swallowing the mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Michaela reached forwards to take a sip of coffee, feeling the guilt and relief combine, only exacerbating her nausea.
"Yeah, tried to ask him about it, just said he wanted to be out with Matthew. Seemed real angry though." Colleen turned to check the clock on the wall, chewing a piece of bacon and hurriedly getting to her feet. "Sorry Ma, gotta go, gonna be late." Colleen crossed the room to give her mother a quick kiss on the forehead.
"Have a good day, Colleen," Michaela squeezed her arm, momentarily considering ask her to tell Brian to come and say goodbye.
"Thanks Ma, think we're practicing for the sports day next week. Last thing I feel like." She rolled her eyes.
"You might explain to the Reverend that you're not feeling well?" Michaela offered.
Colleen screwed up her face.
"And I suppose a doctor's note would be just as embarrassing," Michaela smiled, seeing the horrified glare on her daughter's face.
"I'm leaving!" Colleen called, walking very swiftly towards her cot to get her books and slipping out the side door.
Michaela felt the smile drop from her face, taking another sip of coffee as she heard the children's banter outside.
Nestling back down under the quilt, Michaela heard the soothing sound of the horses trotting away from the homestead.
She sighed, quickly moving onto her left side, realizing how uncomfortable laying on her back was, emotionally more than physically.
This is ridiculous Michaela; you can't spend the next five months of your life cooped up here.
She knew her thoughts were just going around in circles.
Brian has moved himself out to the barn? Does he think I'm angry with him? Am I angry with him?
Michaela knew she didn't have a reference point for this; he wasn't her biological child, and she'd certainly never seen either of her parents naked.
She and Marjorie had only even seen each other naked a handful of times that she could remember, when bathing, and even then, with a chambermaid present who would've been all of seventeen.
Michaela shook her head; that wasn't it. She kept moving through in chronological order.
Her father had checked her for a suspected inflamed appendix when she was thirteen, but it was with her mother present, and barely six inches of exposed flesh.
Olive and Emily had tended to her when she was sick with the Grippe two years ago.
Michaela felt her shoulders tense, realizing exactly where this discomfort had stemmed from.
He had touched her; he had seen her.
Brian had touched her; Brian had seen her.
On both occasions it had been dark, and she had been asleep.
Michaela knew it wasn't supposed to feel this way.
Is it different because Brian isn't my son?
She also knew Colleen, Dorothy and Grace had seen her naked, and still that wasn't the same.
Dr Cassidy, and the other doctors in Boston as well.
She sighed, making the logical deduction.
Doctors and women don't count.
Would she and Sully marry? Would she have to let him see her naked? Let him? Would she want him to?
Michaela also had an equally pressing concern; someone was going to have to deliver this baby, and it certainly wasn't going to be Dr Cassidy.
This is more about me than it is about Brian. It's normal, isn't it? It's my reaction that isn't normal.
Michaela stayed curled up on her side, enjoying the coziness of her bed, comforted by the intermittent chirping of birds and other animals.
As much as she tried to focus on the external sounds around her, all Michaela could feel in that moment was the sensation of his hands on her body, and the pressure of his weight on top of her.
The fear and humiliation were overpowering.
Michaela knew she had to move. Sitting up, she pulled herself to the edge of the bed.
Immediately, she saw her medical bag on the edge of the table, Michaela reached for it quickly. Opening it, she emptied the contents on the table before her.
Placing the medical items back inside, Michaela was left with several items she'd not laid eyes on since they'd arrived home from Boston:
The letter she had written to Horatio Storer, and a small slip of paper, folded, no bigger than the palm of her hand with Margaret's details.
Clutching the folded letter tightly, Michaela knew she had to destroy it. Immediately, she crossed the room to toss it into the stove.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Brian had felt sick all day. The Reverend had pulled him up three times for daydreaming in class, and Colleen had reminded him to each his lunch.
His nausea just seemed to get worse, the closer they got to the end of the day.
Finally, when the Reverend dismissed them, and all of the children had packed up their books and left the room, Colleen strode back over to his desk.
"You feelin' all right?" she reached for his forehead.
"Ain't nothin'." Brian pushed her hand away angrily.
"Why'd you move out to the barn anyway?" She frowned, thinking the combination of events was odd.
"Just wanted to, okay? Leave me alone." Brian struggled with the strap around his books, eventually managed to secure them with much frustration.
"Come on, I gotta go over the Mercantile, get somethin' for supper," Colleen sighed. "You can go home if you want to?"
Brian shook his head quickly. "I'll, I'll come with you."
Colleen rolled her eyes. "Then just be nice to me or I won't cook you any dinner," Colleen teased.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Dorothy turned around from her desk, the moment she heard Colleen's voice at the counter.
She watched as Loren moved across the store to get the items Colleen had requested, before quickly approaching her.
"Colleen, how's your Ma? Ain't seen her in town today?" Dorothy brushed Colleen's arm in concern.
"Said she didn't sleep well last night," Colleen shrugged, not sure if she believed Michaela's excuse.
"That's a shame, maybe she'll be in tomorrow? Please tell her I'm thinking of her." Dorothy smiled hopefully.
"I will," Colleen nodded tiredly.
In the meantime, Brian had quietly snuck around behind Mr Bray, nervously tapping him on the arm.
"Mr Bray?" the little boy asked hesitantly.
"Huh? What is it boy?" Loren nearly dropped the tin of lard he was carrying.
"Aww, nothin'. You're probably too busy." Brian looked down at his shoes.
Loren sighed, about to say that he was, but seeing the sadness in the little boy's eyes. "Never too busy for you, Brian." Loren squeezed his shoulder.
"Dorothy?" Loren looked up and called across the room, waiting until he had Dorothy's attention.
"Just gotta pop upstairs for a few minutes, mind the store, would ya?" Loren gestured for Brian to slip quietly up the stairs.
Brian looked around, waiting until they were in the hallway outside Mr Bray's bedroom.
"Thanks, Mr Bray. Just ain't got no-one I wanna ask about this stuff."
"What's it about son?" Loren leaned down to the little boy's level.
"Well, can I ask you about anything, and you won't tell nobody, will ya?" Brian looked up desperately at him.
"Ah, I, guess, it depends." Loren cleared his throat. "What you'd do?"
"I didn't mean to do nothin', it was an accident." Brian interlocked his fingers together, fidgeting.
"Why you tellin' me for? Can't you speak to Dr Mike, or Sully?" Loren frowned, thinking Brian's nervous behavior quite odd.
"I, I can't. Dr Mike's mad at me, and if Sully knew what I did, he'd be mad at me too." Brian started picking at a fingernail.
"Did you steal somethin'?" Loren frowned, trying to think of all the naughty things he'd done when he was Brian's age.
"No," Brian answered immediately.
"Ah, well, did you dunk some girl's hair in an ink well?" Loren laughed, remembering some of his childhood antics.
"Huh?" Brian looked up, thoroughly confused.
Loren sighed, realizing his back really wasn't up to this. "Come on, sit down son. I can't be bending over like this much longer."
Brian followed Loren into his room, both sitting on the edge of Loren's bed.
"Did you push Steven into that bush of stinging nettles by the schoolhouse? Loren chuckled deviously.
"Nah, weren't anythin' like that, Mr Bray." Brian looked from side to side awkwardly.
"Well, come on, out with it," Loren gestured.
"I," Brian trailed off, "I don't wanna say, it's embarrassin'," Brian swung his legs back and forth nervously.
"Embarrisin', eh?" Loren glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "This about girls?"
"Well, kinda, I suppose," Brian kept his head bowed.
"Ah, well, guess you are gettin' to that age," Loren considered.
"What age?" Brian looked up worriedly.
"Well, when you start thinkin' about girls, wonderin' about things," Loren trailed off, starting to doubt if he was the right person to be having this conversation with Brian.
"I guess. Well, they're different from us, ain't they Mr Bray." Brian looked up vulnerably.
"Ha, they sure are son," Loren chuckled.
He looked over and saw the overwhelmed expression on Brian's face.
"Something troublin' ya?" Loren encouraged.
"Well, what if you saw somethin' that you shouldn't have seen. But you didn't mean to or nothin'." Brian looked over worriedly at Loren.
"Aww, now, don't need to upset yaself. It's perfectly natural. Just a normal part a growin' up." Loren cleared his throat.
"But what if she's mad at you for seeing?" Brian cringed.
"You get caught, eh?" Loren shook his head with a smile.
Brian nodded, looking back down.
"Well, there's your problem, son. Can't get caught," Loren spoke seriously.
"I didn't mean to get caught, Mr Bray. Didn't even mean to be lookin' in the first place," Brian answered.
"Well, lookin' ain't gonna hurt no-one; thing is ya can't get caught." Loren nodded.
"Well, what do I do now then? Do I say I'm sorry or somethin'?" Brian asked.
"Ah, well, that can make it worse sometimes. Then they get all embarrassed, and you get more embarrassed, and," Loren smacked his lips together awkwardly.
"So, I just pretend like it didn't happen?" Brian asked.
"Yeah, she'll get over it. Just gotta give it some time." Loren nodded.
"How much time?" Brian pressed.
"Aww, I dunno son. Can't ya just stay outa her way for a while? Give you both time to forget all about it." Loren was becoming slightly annoyed at the trivial concern.
"Gonna be difficult." Brian looked back worriedly.
"Well, just give it a few days. Maybe if things ain't back to normal by then, you could apologize," Loren suggested.
"All right. Thanks, Mr Bray. Ah, is it same for touchin'?" Brian looked down in shame, remembering the hurt expression on his mother's face.
"Ain't ya a little young for touching?" Loren frowned.
"Weren't like I did it on purpose. Just sorta happened," Brian tried to explain.
"Kinda like the dog ate my homework, ain't it boy?" Loren raised an eyebrow cynically.
"No, really!" Brian protested, "I fell, and, my hand, just," he blushed, quickly tucking his hands under his crossed arms.
"You fell?" Loren repeated skeptically.
Brian kept his head lowered.
"Guess she's kinda upset?" Loren speculated.
"Yeah," Brian nodded quickly. "So, what do I do?"
"Sure you can't talk to Matthew or Sully?" Loren felt in over his head.
"Uh-uh, I'd get a spankin' for sure!" Brian cowered.
Ain't always a bad thing, Loren thought to himself.
Loren thought back to the time he and his best friend had been caught playing doctor with two girls in his class around the back of the schoolhouse. It wasn't until he felt his father's belt come lashing down across his backside half a dozen times, that he began to appreciate how much trouble he was in.
"Don't think you'd get into trouble if you didn't mean to, would you?" Loren clarified.
"I, I just want to understand why it feels so confusin'. Like part of my brain knows it was wrong, but the other part kinda liked it." Brian lowered his head.
"Aww, well, Brian, how much you know about this sorta stuff anyway?" Loren wasn't sure what he was getting in to.
"What stuff, Mr Bray?" Brian looked up, feeling calmed by Loren's openness.
"Well, you know, the birds and the bees?" Loren hesitated.
Brian rolled his eyes. "Birds and bees are two different species, Mr Bray. That ain't how it works."
"Ah," Loren looked away, uncomfortable with an alternate example. "Ain't Sully had this talk with you yet?"
Brian sighed, annoyed. "Had lots a talks Mr Bray. Miss Dorothy talked to me about rape, Ma talked to me about where babies come from, Sully talked to me about where babies really come from," he pulled a slightly horrified expression.
Loren shook his head, realizing poor Brian had had quite the education the past five months. He took a moment to redirect his thoughts, still able to smell the smoke from the gunfire and see the helpless expression on Jake's face as he carried Michaela out of the tepee.
Loren sighed, a long, tired sigh, shaking his head slowly as he tried to put his thoughts into words.
"Well, ah, that's only one side a it, Brian. There's a real nice side too. When folks are married. Like Horace and Myra, or Grace and Robert E. Ain't anyone talked to ya about how married couples love each other?" Loren patted the boy's arm softly.
"Yeah, Sully did." Brian nodded.
"Right, well, when two people are married and they love each other, then being together like that feels nice." Loren nodded, glancing down at Brian for his reaction.
"Sure, Mr Bray. So it's okay when you're married for things to feel nice?" Brian checked.
"Of course, son," Loren encouraged.
"What about if you ain't married?" Brian continued.
"Well, you can still kiss, and hug, and hold hands and things, say when you're courtin'. That feels nice too," Loren explained.
"Right, like Ma and Sully, or Matthew and Ingrid," Brian nodded in understanding.
"Sure, sure," Loren nodded again, about to consider that Brian's questions were coming to an end.
"But what if you touched someone, and they didn't like it, and you didn't wanna like it, but you kinda did like it?" Brian shook his head.
"Sounds real confusing Brian," Loren acknowledged.
"Yeah," the little boy nodded glumly. "I didn't mean to feel the way I did." He looked up, ashamed.
"Aw, I know that, Brian. Sometimes when we grow up our bodies can fool us." Loren acknowledged, thinking back over his teenage years.
"Fool us?" Brian shook his head.
"Well, we can sorta feel excited in a certain way, like when you finally get the Christmas present you really want," Loren suggested, not sure where Brian was at in terms of maturation.
"Oh when I get a big bag of candy! Like happy and tingly, like your chest is gonna explode!" He smiled.
"I suppose," Loren conceded. "But we gotta know the difference between when we're supposed to feel like that, and when we're not. And that takes time." Loren did his best to explain.
"I don't think I was supposed to feel like that. So now I just feel real bad. Everyone's gonna hate me." He wiped at his eyes.
"They'll understand. You're still young, Brian. Takes time for boys to understand their bodies, understand what we're feelin'," Loren considered.
"But how can a good feeling be bad at the same time?" Brian looked wide-eyed at Loren.
"Well, because it ain't a good feelin' if it makes someone else feel bad, is it?" Loren reasoned.
"I guess not. Even if it was an accident?" Brian blinked several times.
"Well if'n ever you do something a girl don't like, no matter how you feel, you gotta stop. That's our job as men, Brian. It's our job to make sure girls and women always feel safe with us. That they ain't scared." Loren watched the little boy's eyes well up harder with tears.
"Then it is my fault. I made Dr Mike scared, just like the dog soldier did, and she ain't gonna love me no more." Brian pressed his head into Loren's chest, tears flowing freely from his eyes.
"Oh, Brian," Loren whispered, suddenly understanding why he had been the one Brian had chosen to confide in.
Not having any words of solace, Loren merely patted the boy's back a few times.
Both looked up at the sounds of feet on the stairs.
"Brian?" Colleen chided as she reached the top of the stairs. "I been lookin' for you everywhere! Come on, we gotta get home!" Colleen ordered.
Resignedly, Brian pulled himself to his wiping the tears from his eyes.
"It'll be all right, son," Loren nodded, watching silently as the little boy followed his sister down the stairs.
Loren felt his teeth clack together several times, knowing he was going to have to find Sully for a serious talk.