tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65125888574520029042024-02-20T11:49:11.273-08:00Storm's Spanking Story ArchivesStormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-53988203130548446292011-07-11T12:38:00.000-07:002011-07-11T12:38:17.923-07:00Nery Legacy (7): Setting Things Straight*<div style="text-align: justify;"> It had been a busy week. The twins were home from college for the summer, and the school rivalry had come home with them. He’d broken up one fight when Court had shoved Brendan in the hallway upstairs. He’d wound up taking a fist to the chin, and the boys had lost their cars for the rest of the week. He didn’t care whether or not they were eighteen. They were his sons, and they were by God going to respect the rules of the house, even if their mother was too lazy to keep up with what was going on with their sons. Thank goodness for private schools. He wasn’t sure that he wanted Randy raised by a nanny, and he and Carrie were both usually busy with their careers, him in law and her in politics. <br />
<br />
But Malcolm had taken off the week from work, canceling all of his appointments and trying not to be pissed off when Carrie refused to help in the search for their niece. Mal was close to his brothers, and he thought of his nieces and nephew very much as he thought of his own children. If Charlie was missing, it was part of their responsibility to look for her. <br />
<br />
Today was a paperwork day. Malcolm had taken it with him to his brother’s house, where he made a few phone calls and then settled back to go over the documents that he would have to present to the court regarding custody of his niece Maia. Though Raph had been considering moving into the old family home, where Malcolm now sat at the kitchen table (and where their brother Ben lived with his wife and their two daughters, one of whom was currently missing), his older brother had decided that for right now, it was best he sleep on the couch and give his bed to his daughter, when Mal was able to get the final paperwork signed so that everything was tied up tight. <br />
<br />
Here with his brother Ben, everybody was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Charlie, Mal’s sixteen year-old niece, had gotten into a fight with her mother, and disappeared the next day. She’d left a note, saying that she was leaving and not to look for her, and that she’d left because of the fight with her mother. The concern that Mal had was that the fight had become physical. Ruby, Ben’s wife, had slapped her daughter when she found out that the sixteen year-old was pregnant, and when the police came to question the family about Charlie’s disappearance, the facts of the case had come out. So far, there had been no contact from child welfare, but Malcolm had learned that you never trusted the police, and you certainly never talked to him (which of course his brother and sister-in-law had done, breaking the cardinal rule of protecting yourself from a corrupt police system. Malcolm had taped a copy of the constitution to the fridge so that they could read it every day and remind themselves of their rights should the police get funny during the search for their daughter).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
“Who’s gonna get Randy?” Mal’s niece Clarissa asked from where she was sitting across the table and putting his papers into order for him. “I mean, when you an’ Aunt Carrie get divorced.” <br />
<br />
Malcolm had set the ten year-old with a job to keep her busy just so that she wouldn’t ask that kind of question, and he groaned inwardly. He knew that Ben was trying to get her to tone down with the gossiping, but she’d caught on to it and never let it go. He wondered, sometimes, if the closeness that his family possessed might sometimes be a bad thing. After all, it seemed that this gossip was the sort of thing that his wife was involved in all the time in her political career. He tried to ignore the questioning, since he didn’t think that it was Clarissa’s business who got custody of Randy, or the fact that he was pretty sure that Carrie didn’t have enough concern over her sons to even try to get custody of them. They were divorcing and still living under the same roof right now anyway. How did he explain that one to his niece? <br />
<br />
“Uncle Malcolm?” Boy, the kid could be pushy. <br />
<br />
“It ain’t your business, Clarissa, so I think it’s time you just shut your mouth up an’ stopped askin’ those kinds of questions. I woulda thought your daddy taught you better, but if he ain’t, then I can start workin’ on it.”<br />
<br />
When the girl went quiet, Mal felt a tug of regret. He glanced up at her, but she was just watching him intently. He frowned and put his pen down, then pulled off his glasses and put them down on the paper he’d been going over. “What is it, Clarissa?”<br />
<br />
“Daddy said he wasn’t gonna divorce Mama ‘today.’ Does that mean he’s gonna divorce her someday?” <br />
<br />
Inwardly, Mal groaned. If that was what was on Clarissa’s mind, her parents were better people for her to be talking to about this. But knowing Ben, he wasn’t talking, and he’d always known Ruby to just sort of sweep things under the rug. He sighed, staring at his niece for a long time. “Maybe,” he said. “I think it depends on whether they find your sister. If they don’t... I don’t know what’s gonna happen, baby.”<br />
<br />
“Daddy’s real mad at Mama. Cause Mama called Charlie a whore, an’ she smacked her.” <br />
<br />
“He ain’t mad at her, Rissa. Not any more. An’ far as I’m concerned, he got every reason in the world to be mad at her. What your Mama did was wrong, Riss. Your parents are both sufferin’ the consequences, an’ Daddy didn’t do nothin’ wrong. That’s somethin’ for you to think about.”<br />
<br />
“Daddy spanked her. Mama I mean. She was cryin’ real loud. I heard her.”<br />
<br />
The statement made Malcolm uncomfortable enough to elicit a small laugh. He shook his head at Rissa. “I’m sure that ain’t true,” he said. “Daddy doesn’t spank Mama. He might smack your bottom when you need it, but not with Mama.” Whether he was right or wrong, Mal didn’t really care. He wanted the subject dropped. If Ben and Ruby engaged in that sort of activity, it wasn’t his business, but more than that, it wasn’t Clarissa’s business, and if they were doing that, they needed to keep it a lot more private than that. He’d have a chat with his brother later about keeping their private life private, but he suspected that part of the problem was that his niece just didn’t know how to mind her own business.<br />
<br />
The paperwork was done, and he was about to hand the rest of it to Rissa when he thought better of it. It was all personal stuff, most of it between him and Carrie, but some documents related to Raph’s custody of Maia, and he thought they were written entirely in legalese that Rissa was unlikely to understand, he didn’t want to take risks. “Give me those,” he said, reaching for the papers that he’d already given her. Most of these were innocuous, and he stacked everything together and put it back into his briefcase. <br />
<br />
Ben and Ruby were in town talking to the police, and then he was quite sure that they were going out on another canvass. That left him at home with Clarissa, and because nobody felt that it was appropriate for her to be going out on the runs with the adults, he figured that it was going to be this way at least for a while. So he stood up and went to the fridge to pour two glasses of sweet tea, then brought one of them back to Clarissa. “So, does Charlie talk to you much?”<br />
<br />
The ten year-old shrugged her shoulders, and Mal raised an eyebrow as he sat back down. He caught her eye, and she shrugged again. “Sometimes. We didn’t used to, but I heard her cryin’ a couple months ago an’ we started talkin’ then.”<br />
<br />
“What happened?” Mal asked. For the most part, he didn’t like that his niece was a gossip, but sometimes he thought that the information could help him. As best as he could tell, nobody else was talking to Clarissa about what she knew about Charlie, and somebody had to. Even the police had written her off as insignificant. If there was something she’d told Clarissa that could help them find her, they needed to know what it was.<br />
<br />
Clarissa looked uncomfortable for a moment, her cheeks growing pink, and Mal studied her for a long time, his dark blue eyes on her until she nibbled at her lower lip. The expression in her eyes made him smile. She could read her easily enough in that he could see she was debating how much to tell him. Odd how she could share information when it would get her what she wanted, but when it was important, she held it back. It seemed to him that maybe gossip was something like a drug. So Mal leaned forward conspiratorially. “What did she say?” he asked her again, trying to make his eyes twinkle with mischief and shared secrets. <br />
<br />
He wasn’t sure if he was pulling it off until Clarissa grinned at him. “Mama gave her a spankin’ cause she said she wasn’t gonna do her chores an’ she was gonna go out instead. Then she asked Daddy for the car. Mama was kinda upset. I remember.” <br />
<br />
Malcolm knew that there had been some problems with Charlotte’s attitude but, as Ben had told him, they had mostly been typical “teen stuff” and had been quite fleeting. Teenaged girls and their mothers often fought. He was aware of that, though he did wonder if there was something more going on with Ruby. His first guess was that she was jealous of her sixteen year-old daughter, which wouldn’t surprise Mal at all. Ruby had always had a jealous streak in the time that he’d known her, and it was more than that, too; Ben did spend a lot of time on the girls, and perhaps too little on his marriage. But who was he to give marriage advice? He was getting divorced following his wife’s affair.<br />
<br />
“What did Charlie say?”<br />
<br />
“Well...” Clarissa licked her lips, and Mal thought that she was really warming up to her story now. He wasn’t sure that he liked that about his niece, the way that she seemed eager to talk about her sister being in trouble. It wasn’t an attractive trait in a person, and for a moment, he felt shame at asking her at all. After all, the conversation between Charlie and Clarissa had been private, and what prompted the conversation even more private again. “She told me how Mama made her bare her bottom, an’ how much she hates it when Mama an’ Daddy do that.” <br />
<br />
This part of the story was probably contrived, Malcolm realized, the product of a childish fantasy of what it must be like for an older sibling to be punished in such a childish way. Though he had no doubt in his mind that Charlie probably had been punished, he didn’t think that she would have talked about the details of the punishment with Rissa. Once again he was left thinking that it wasn’t pleasant the way that the ten year-old seemed to enjoy her story so much. However much Clarissa was enjoying her story, Mal didn’t want or need to hear the details of the punishment. He was more interested in Charlotte’s thoughts than in her actions. But if he had to get through this to keep Clarissa talking, that’s what he was going to do. “What else did she say?” <br />
<br />
“She told me about how Mama made her do it herself, an’ then she hadda lay over Mama’s lap like she was a little girl. I ain’t been spanked since I was seven. I can’t imagine bein’ sixteen an’ gettin’ a spankin’!” <br />
<br />
Bingo, Malcolm thought. The story was at least partially made up, though he had no doubt that the two sisters had talked about something that had happened between Charlie and their mother. He was getting to the point when Clarissa couldn’t avoid giving him the information that he was looking for.<br />
<br />
Mal cleared his throat. How did he steer Clarissa in the direction that he wanted her to go? “How did Charlie feel about that?”<br />
<br />
Now the ten year-old really brightened, and Malcolm felt a flood of relief. Maybe she was getting to the climax of her story after all. Clarissa leaned in, and lowered her voice. “She said that Mama an’ Daddy hate her. An’ that she was thinkin’ about running away.”<br />
<br />
The emotional reaction was so immediate that Mal had to tighten his fingers into a hard fist as he stared at his niece. “Did you tell somebody?”<br />
<br />
Clarissa drew back, but Mal didn’t try to hide his frustration with her. He didn’t see the point. Her actions lately had been in some ways helpful, but he was beginning to understand why his brother was at a loss with his younger daughter. After a moment, the little girl nodded her head and bit her lip. “I told Mama.”<br />
<br />
Dammit, Mal thought. What the hell?<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Only one of the Nery men had married well, at least in Malcolm’s opinion. Raph might have had some responsibility in his own divorce, given that he had been engaged in an ongoing affair at the time that Mandy left him. What had happened since then, Malcolm didn’t even want to think. Amanda made Ruby look like mother of the year, and it disgusted him that she still had custody of the children, especially with the way that she moved them around the country, avoiding Raphael. Even if his brother wasn’t paying child support, there was a court order for visitation. Carrie might not have been so bad if she hadn’t been a backstabbing, adulterous... politician. But Bridget shone, and when they were together, he could see the way that she lit up Seth’s world. It made Malcolm feel good, and he appreciated, especially now, the way that she had taken Clarissa out of the house so that he could call the much-needed family meeting with all of the adults present.<br />
<br />
Ben was the oldest, and perhaps the most protective over his brothers, their wives and their children. But Malcolm thought of himself as the head of the family in their father’s absence. After all, he’d been the favorite child of their parents, spoiled more than any of the other children. He’d been the most cheerful as a child, though things had changed, and now there was no doubt that Seth was the most likable amongst them. It almost made Malcolm laugh, but with his family gathered, he thought better of it.<br />
<br />
Ruby had served up iced tea to all of the men, then taken a seat off to the side. Malcolm was smart enough to pick up on the symbolism of the gesture, though he thought that her actions were perhaps a bit passive aggressive. It bothered him to think that the girls were being raised with her throwing her weight around in such a manner. Passive aggressive behavior could be like a hammer used to truly abuse the unwitting, or even those who recognized it for what it was.<br />
<br />
“Ruby, sit with the family, please,” Malcolm said in his firmest voice. His sister in law was older than him, and he recognized no need for a woman to obey a man by virtue of being a woman, even if that was how it had worked in their house growing up. Mal had simply chosen to ignore his mother’s deference to their father, and he had overlooked the fact that all three of his brothers seemed to expect the same from their wives. He’d never tried to push his weight around with Carrie, and it wouldn’t have occurred to him to do so, even in light of the affair. <br />
<br />
When Ruby didn’t move, Ben cleared his throat. Malcolm didn’t look in the direction of his brother, but nodded when Ruby finally complied. “I’m gonna say this once, an’ I ain’t tryin’ to be mean. But that kind of passive aggressive shit is one of the reasons you’re havin’ problems with your kids. Cut it out, an’ act like a mother instead of some teenager yourself. You might have better results.” <br />
<br />
“Mal...” Ben said warningly.<br />
<br />
Malcolm held up his hand to his brother, shaking his head. “No, Ben. It’s time that somebody said somethin’. We’re all in this together. I ain’t gonna have us brothers backin’ you up, an’ even Bridget out there all pregnant an’ lookin’ for your daughter while your wife pulls some passive aggressive routine tryin’ to make everybody feel sorry for her. She got into this mess, an’ she’s gonna have to cooperate with gettin’ us out of this mess.”<br />
<br />
There was a moment of silence while everybody looked at him expectantly, and Mal took a drink of his whiskey. He was drinking, but wanted the rest of the crowd sober. It had been a long week for all of them, but he felt like the whiskey would clear his head. “Now listen to me,” he said. “I had a talk with Clarissa earlier. She told me that she an’ Charlie had a talk a couple of weeks ago, an’ Charlie said she thought Ruby hated her.” He held up a hand before the woman could object. “It’s part of bein’ a parent to teenagers. You done some wrong things, but any teenager is gonna think at some point that her parents hate her. An’ before it’s over, you’re gonna be thinkin’ she hates you, too. So I ain’t gonna have anybody accusin’ me of bein’ too hard.”<br />
<br />
Malcolm paused, then put his drink down, finished with it with half the tumbler still full. He pushed it away, letting any one of his brothers pick it up if they should want it, then he finally sat down in the chair that Ruby had vacated. He leaned forward, folding his hands and putting his elbows on his knees as he looked at everybody. “Rissa also told me that Charlie told her she was plannin’ on runnin’.”<br />
<br />
Although he might have gone on, the gasp from Ruby made Malcolm pause, and he looked toward his sister-in-law and cocked an eyebrow at her. “She also said she told you about it.”<br />
<br />
Ruby shook her head, and Malcolm’s heart sank a little bit. One of the two were lying, and he suspected, under the circumstances, that it had been an embellishment of the story on the part of the ten year-old. What made things worse, he wasn’t sure that he could confront her about it. There were two potential problems with doing so. The first was that Rissa was only ten years old, and if she felt threatened, the lie was likely to get deeper. The other was the fact that she might have convinced herself that things had happened differently than they had, as a means of coping with the situation that was happening in her family.<br />
<br />
“A’ight,” Mal said. “So that’s one lead that we’ve lost.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I was hopin’ that maybe Clarissa had more information, but if things didn’t happen the way she said they did, then I don’t think that we’re gonna get any real information out of her, at least not the kind that’s gonna help us.” He shrugged his shoulders again, disappointment flooding through him. “We done called all her friends. Anybody talked to Greg recently?”<br />
<br />
“He went out with us this afternoon,” Ben said wearily. “He said he’d gotten a phone call from her but the number was blocked an’ the police weren’t able to trace it. One of them throwaway cell phones or somethin’, registered to some homeless guy. The police say they think she’s stayin’ with somebody, but so far nobody’s speakin’ up.”<br />
<br />
Malcolm nodded. “Well I ain’t an investigator, so I ain’t gonna be much help in the department of findin’ missin’ persons. But I do got more to say.”<br />
<br />
Four sets of blue eyes looked expectantly at Malcolm and he cleared his throat anxiously. “Well. Yes. First thing I wan’ed to say is this: She’s comin’ home. Charlie’s gonna come home. I suggest, Ben, that you put somethin’ on the answerin’ machine in case she calls. Make it invitin’. Tell her about how she ain’t gettn’ punished an’ if she’s in trouble she oughta leave a message or come on home. How you miss her, an’ you love her, an’ how important she is to this family.”<br />
<br />
“Consider it done,” Ben said. “Been thinkin’ about goin’ on the television too. Get some media coverage. Maybe she’ll see somethin’ an’ call us.”<br />
<br />
Nodding his head, Malcolm agreed with his brother. “I think Ruby’s gonna have to say somethin’ too. Let Charlie know she wants her home. That’s the biggest factor. If Charlie really does feel that strongly that her mother don’t care about her, she’s gonna need to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. No offense, Ruby,” he added. He nodded in her direction, then cleared his throat. There was more, but how to say it? Especially with an audience?<br />
<br />
“There’s one other thing,” Malcolm started. He reached for his whiskey again. He was going to need it to get through this part. “I don’t care what any of y’all do in the bedroom. You wanna engage in some hanky panky spanky in the bedroom, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ wrong with a little kink. Back when we were first married, Carrie used to like to tie me up. No big thing. But I never let my kids know it was happenin’. You’ve got enough goin’ on with the police comin’ in an’ out through this house an’ the last thing you need is Clarissa talkin’ about how she heard Daddy spankin’ Mommy.”<br />
<br />
When he looked up, Ruby’s cheeks were beet red, and he noticed the color at the tips of his brother’s ears, too. “She heard us?” Ben asked.<br />
<br />
“At least once,” Mal told his brother seriously. “Told me you had Ruby screamin’.” <br />
<br />
Ben closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed heavily. Mal almost felt bad for his brother. “She been snoopin’ around. There ain’t no gettin’ around her, or away from her. She knows everythin’ from the fact you’re gettin’ divorced to how much trouble Bridget had gettin’ pregnant. Heck, she informed me, quite proudly, that it took three tries of the in-vitro to get her a baby that stuck, then told me all about the process of selective reduction, back when they were considerin’ it as a possibility.”<br />
<br />
“Be more careful,” Malcolm admonished. “That ain’t somethin’ she should be hearin’. An’ there ain’t no reason she knows about your sex life either,” he told his younger brother, frowning at Seth and shaking his head. <br />
<br />
“An’ there ain’t no reason she knows about your divorce,” Raph said from where he’d been quietly sitting on the couch. <br />
<br />
Raphael and Malcolm had the hardest time getting along of any of the four brothers, and Mal leveled a look at his older brother, then shook his head, his jaw clenching with agitation. “No, perhaps not,” he agreed. It seemed that if there was one of the brothers Rissa knew the least about, it was Raph, and that was probably just as well. He had enough skeletons in his closet as well. He wanted to say something about the child support he’d been paying to Raph’s ex, but he kept his mouth shut.<br />
<br />
“There’s one more thing I wanna cover, an’ it ain’t directly related to Charlotte. But I wanna say this. I ain’t gonna have my niece goin’ from a bad situation to a worse one. I’m talkin’ ‘bout Maia. Her mom’s had her movin’ all over the country the last nine years an’ I think it’s about time we put a stop to her livin’ in cramped apartments all the time. Now Raph has asked if he can stay here, an’ we all know this is the family homestead. This farm has been in our family for three generations an’ we all know what Granddad would have wanted.”<br />
<br />
“I hardly think that this is the right time!” Ruby’s voice was indignant, and Mal gritted his teeth against the urge to snap at her. He didn’t necessarily like his sister-in-law, but the truth was that this was a very difficult time for her. But it was also a difficult time for him (going through a divorce and trying to figure out who got the house and the kids), for Seth (dealing with his wife who was in a high-risk pregnancy with twins) and for Raph (who was trying to get custody of his kids) as well.<br />
<br />
“Are you sayin’ that Charlie’s more important than Maia?” Malcolm asked before Raph could get fully engaged to fight. “Cause I’m tellin’ you right now, she ain’t. An’ I ain’t sayin’ that just cause they’re my nieces an’ not my kids. I’d feel the same way if it was Randy out there, or one of the twins. So let’s not act like one person’s problems are any bigger than anybody else’s. Raph can start movin’ in tomorrow. We’re pickin’ Maia up at the airport next Friday. An’ honestly, Ben? You could do with the help around here. Somebody to stay with Rissa when you gotta go out lookin’ for Charlie if she ain’t back before Maia gets here, maybe somebody to help with the chores. There’s a lot goin’ on, an’ you’re gonna take the support. Got it?”<br />
<br />
Normally he wouldn’t have thought to talk to his older brother that way, but Mal was on a roll, and he wasn’t going to hold back anything. “Meeting dismissed. I’ll take care of the dishes, then I’m goin’ home. Raph, you’re comin’ with me so we can talk about next week. Seth, you get Bridget taken care of when she an’ Clarissa home. She’s been stressin’. I can see it in her face. Tell her to lay low. I’m done talkin’.”<br />
<br />
With a deep sigh, Malcolm got up and went into the kitchen to finish off the dishes, offering up a silent prayer that they would find his niece without any further incident.Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-59804967640768512402011-07-10T13:04:00.000-07:002011-07-11T12:38:39.535-07:00Nery Legacy (6): The Real Consequences* As he took the note from his wife, Ben kept his right arm wrapped protectively around his younger daughter. He wasn’t sure whether or not Ruby was going to snap and lash out at either of them, and after the last couple of days, he found it hard to trust her. They’d had a very enlightening conversation the previous night before bed, when he’d taken a snack up to her so that she wouldn’t go to bed hungry, and he thought he understood his wife a lot better. He didn’t like what he’d heard, and in some ways it made him more uncomfortable, but he also had a new sympathy for Ruby, and he appreciated that she’d finally told him that she was actually jealous of her own daughter, the things that she was able to do, the things she got away with, and her relationship with Ben. He knew that it was a big confession for Ruby, and it had left her broken, crying in his arms for over an hour until she fell asleep. She’d been acting embarrassed all morning, and though he didn’t feel guilty for the strapping that he’d given her the night before, he did feel for his wife. <br />
<br />
More than anything, he was glad that it seemed Ruby had learned something about his daughters, and how he expected them to be treated. He’d threatened her with throwing her out, and he’d meant it. If anything like yesterday ever happened again, he’d put her out without another thought. These were his children, and as a man he felt that he was honor bound to protect them, even from their mother if it was necessary for him to do so. <br />
<br />
Feeling the tension in Clarissa’s body, Ben tugged her close to him and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, smoothing her red hair back. It was still the strawberry blonde of youth, and he could see how it was going to go the way of Ruby’s, a darker red as she got older. He hugged her hard, then rubbed her back. It had been a relatively mild spanking, only about half a dozen quick, brisk pops with the wooden spoon, and nothing that she wouldn’t recover from quickly, but she’d carried on as though he’d taken his belt to her backside. Rissa had always been known for drama, of course, and that thought made Ben smile. Maybe now, after today, she’d be thinking twice about the drama that she caused the next time she had an opportunity. He was going to have to be especially watchful once Raph was in the house with them, considering that his younger brother had a tendency to be surrounded by drama and the last thing that he or his thirteen year-old daughter were going to need was Rissa’s gossip.<br />
<br />
“Clarissa, go on up to your room,” Ben said, giving her another hard hug. When the child let out a sob, he paused, then cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed his nose. “You ain’t bein’ punished, baby girl,” he told her, brushing the hair out of her face where she’d dropped her head and it had fallen in her eyes. “You can take your book or some toys with you. Punishment’s over. Now Daddy just needs to have a talk with Mama.”<br />
<br />
“You are gonna divorce her!” Rissa cried, clear panic in her face.<br />
<br />
“No, baby. Not today.” He didn’t want to promise her that it wouldn’t happen, because he’d been close to that point yesterday, but today... Today he could see the obvious fear in his wife’s face, and right now he was more concerned about Ruby than he was about either of his daughters. She looked like a little girl herself, and for the first time in a long time, he thought he saw a glimpse of the woman he had married when they were still too young to know what marriage meant. “Go on,” he said to Rissa, giving her a little pat on her bottom. “I’ll be up there to check on you when Mama an’ me are done talkin’. I promise.” <br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Ben took a deep breath, letting Rissa go. She went to the bookshelf and pulled her book off of it, then she looked over at him with a pleading look before she started for the stairs. He watched her go, making sure that she was out of earshot and then listening for her door to close upstairs. He hoped that after he’d just punished her that she wasn’t going to simply open the door and listen to the conversation that he was having with Ruby, but knowing his younger daughter, there was always that risk. “C’mere,” Ben said to Ruby when Rissa was gone. He took her hand and pulled her down to sit on his lap, then wrapped his arm around her, the one attached to the hand still holding the note, and he hugged her tight. He hadn’t said anything to her since Malcolm had read her the riot act on the phone, and there was a twinge of guilt that told him that he probably should have said something more to her.<br />
<br />
“You forget about what Mal said,” he told Ruby. “He don’t know the whole story an’ he’s got no idea I striped your backside last night. An’ let’s face it, Mal’s an ass. You don’t listen to what he says. You listen to what I say. Understand me?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Sir,” Ruby said in a shaky voice. <br />
<br />
Ben wrapped his arms more tightly around his wife, hugging her hard to him, and then he kissed her shoulder, since her face was too high in this position for him to reach. He transferred the note from his left to his right hand, then he looked up at her. “I think you done learned a hard lesson last night, Ruby. Don’t let me be wrong.”<br />
<br />
When his wife said nothing, Ben sighed and glanced down at the note in his hand. “So what’s this?” he asked, scanning it quickly.<br />
<br />
“I found it on Charlie’s bed. An’ she aint’ there!” Ruby said, hopping up out of his lap to pace the carpet in front of him. “This is my fault! I feel so terrible!” she said.<br />
<br />
Holding up a hand to silence his wife, Ben was relieved when she fell quiet, and then he began to read thoroughly. <br />
<br />
The note read:<br />
<br />
“Mama,<br />
<br />
I know I messed up. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what<br />
to do. I know you hate me. I have to go. Please don’t look for me. <br />
<br />
I love you and Daddy and Rissa. I won’t be back. Please don’t look<br />
for me.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Charlotte<br />
<br />
There were wet marks on the page where it was obvious that Charlie had been crying as she wrote the note, and Ben felt a hard twinge in his own gut, tears coming to his eyes a he read it a second, and then a third time. Finally he looked up at his wife. For a moment, he tried to find something to say to her, but he bit back every accusation that came to mind. They both knew that Ruby’s behavior the previous day had been unacceptable. Saying more about it would only cause hurt feelings, and there was no sense in that. He’d told Rissa “not today” and he’d meant it.<br />
<br />
“It’s my fault,” Ruby choked. He could see the clear distress on her face, her beautiful features contorting with pain, and then her eyes screwing up as tears began to finally fall. She covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders heaved as she began to sob. “It’s my fault! I drove her off!”<br />
<br />
Ben pressed his lips together for a moment, and then he nodded, deciding that honesty was the best policy. “Yeah,” he told his wife. “You did.” All it would have taken was a little bit of compassion on his wife’s part and their daughter would be here with them, letting them help her make the difficult decisions about keeping the baby or giving it up for adoption. In his mind, abortion wasn’t even on the table. He sighed, then stood up and wrapped his arm around Ruby’s shoulders, pulling her close to him. Although he wouldn’t lie to her, he could tell that his wife’s distress was real. He kissed her forehead and brushed the hair back from her face, then cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “She’s havin’ a teenaged fit. She’ll be back before supper, I’ll bet. An’ then you’ll be apologizin’ to her, an’ it’ll all start to get better.” He hugged his wife because he wanted to hide the fear that was on his own face. He wasn’t so sure that what he was saying was true. Charlie was prone to fight with his wife, but most of the tantrums that she perceived weren’t nearly as severe as what Ruby seemed to assume.<br />
<br />
When he was just about to suggest that his wife go and start putting up the dishes (so that he could get her out of the way while he called the police), there was a hard knock on the door. Ben jolted slightly and looked down at Ruby. “Go into the kitchen,” he said to her firmly, then kissed her forehead again. If it was the police at the door come to tell him that something had happened to Charlotte, he didn’t want either Ruby or Rissa there to hear it. <br />
<br />
Anxious, Ben watched Ruby do as he’d said, tears in her eyes. He groaned, then went to the door and pulled it open, his heart thundering in his chest with real fear. But instead of a uniformed officer on the door, he met with the angry visage of his brother Malcolm, with Raphael behind him. Malcolm’s hand was raised as he was about to knock on the door again, but instead he lowered it and Ben was shoved back into the house, his brother’s aggressive face too close to his own. Normally it was the two brothers on the doorstep who were at one another’s throat, so Ben was taken aback. He stood his ground, spreading his legs and standing solidly. “What the hell is going on?” he and Raph both asked in unison.<br />
<br />
“You first,” Malcolm growled as he pushed past Ben. The oldest Nery stood back, letting his brothers into the house, looking from one to the other in confusion.<br />
<br />
“I told you everythin’ I know when we were on the phone earlier. But I gotta say, Mal, there ain’t no call for you to go yellin’ at Ruby that way. She’s hurtin’ herself enough without havin’ your help with that,” he said sternly to his younger brother. He didn’t want them to know that Charlotte wasn’t home. He was still hoping that she’d be home before they knew it, and that there wouldn’t be any need for him to tell his brothers that she was missing.<br />
<br />
“Where’s Charlie?” Raphael asked. Ben’s eyes darted in the direction of the next oldest son in the family. Raph’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he was giving Ben the look that Ben often used on Ruby when he was trying to get her to talk about something she didn’t want to admit to. Why did he feel like a little boy? These were his younger brothers, an Raph was nearly five years younger than he was!<br />
<br />
Ben cleared his throat. “We should talk,” he said, then nodded toward the kitchen. He started to lead in that direction, but then he stopped. “First one of you gets disrespectful with my wife is leavin’ an’ ain’t comin’ back. I wanna make that real clear. Raph, you’re lookin’ for a place to live. I’d be thinkin’ real careful about how you talk to Ruby. She’s got her own shit goin’ on an’ it ain’t right for you to put more on her. Got it?”<br />
<br />
After a moment, both brothers nodded together, and Ben gestured toward the kitchen. “Put some coffee on, Ruby,” he instructed his wife. “We got company.” <br />
<br />
Ben didn’t sit down, but he motioned for his brothers to do so. Instead, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest and looked first at Malcolm. “Clarissa knows she shouldn’ta been talkin’ to you about the stuff she been sayin’. She was wrong, an’ she knows it now. So what’s this about? You come here to yell at me an’ Ruby about our parentin’?” He didn’t say it, but he thought Malcolm and Raph both had their own issues with their kids and had no room at all to talk to him about the way that he ran his household.<br />
<br />
“I want to know where my niece is,” Raphael said. When Ben looked at him, his brother was tense, his hand clenched into a fist on the table. <br />
<br />
“She called my cell phone,” Malcolm interjected. “She sounded scared out of her fool mind. Didn’t stay on the phone.”<br />
<br />
“She must have called me right after she got done with him,” Raphael said, just as there was a knock at the door. <br />
<br />
“Seth,” all three brothers said together. <br />
<br />
“Go let him in,” Ben said to Ruby. He didn’t wait for her to obey, but went to grab the pot of coffee and pour five cups, then carried them over to the table two at a time, putting them down. He reached for the creamer and sugar, and brought those two, followed by a couple of teaspoons. They’d been sharing as long as he could remember, and nobody was going to be offended, as long as nobody stirred his coffee before the others could get to the sugar. <br />
<br />
Finally sitting down, Ben looked at his brothers. “So you know Charlie’s not here,” he told them seriously. He could hear Ruby at the door, talking to their youngest brother, and he sighed when he heard Bridget’s voice too. She didn’t need the stress any more than Charlie did! “Come right on back!” Ben called out to the gathering at the door. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting Bridget a cup of coffee. She wasn’t to be drinking it when she was pregnant anyway.<br />
<br />
“You spoil her,” Bridget was saying. “No child of mine is ever going to think that it’s alright to simply run off when one of her parents tells her something she doesn’t like!”<br />
<br />
“Did she tell you that her mother called her a whore?” Malcolm asked. <br />
<br />
Ben could tell that his brother was bristling, and he held up a hand, giving the younger man a warning look. “That’s enough, Mal,” he said sternly. “I told you. Ain’t nobody gonna talk about my wife that way in my own home. An’ ain’t nobody gonna talk about my daughter that way neither,” he said, exchanging a knowing look with Ruby. His wife flushed and turned her head away, making him more and more convinced that he’d made his point well last night.<br />
<br />
Standing up slowly, Ben went to put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “So it seems that our daughter called the three of you. Maybe you knew she was gone before we did,” he said, looking seriously at each of his brothers in turn, for the moment ignoring the aggressive Bridget. “An’ I know Mal knows that she’s pregnant, so let me get that out of the way for all of you if she ain’t told you. Seems Clarissa thought it was okay to put an announcement on Facebook about the whole thing, which is how Mal found out. An’ now Charlie ain’t here.” He paused, letting that sink in, registering the look of discomfort on Raphael’s face, the knowing expression on Mal’s, and then the look of disgust that passed quickly over Seth’s. <br />
<br />
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Ben said carefully. “I’m going to call the police. The women,” he said, leveling a look at Bridget, “are going to stay here in case she comes back. An’ then the four of us are gonna go out lookin’.” <br />
<br />
Another knock at the door had Ben groaning. By now he’d forgotten about his fear that it would be the police either dragging his daughter home or here to tell him that she’d gotten herself into trouble. He sighed. “Ruby?”<br />
<br />
Ruby nodded and left the room again. A moment later, there were raised voices, and a thumping sound from the other room. Ben shot up out of his chair and raced into the living room to find his wife on her backside, a teenager he recognized standing over her. “What the hell did you do to her?” the boy roared. <br />
<br />
Ben stepped forward, putting space between his wife and the teen. “Seth!” Ben shouted. “Raph!” His brother the lawyer hardly had the strength or intimidation that he wanted, though Mal was the first into the room, and also the first to stand by his brother. Ben appreciated his sibling’s desire to protect and defend his wife, and he gave him a nod, then turned back to Greg. “Seth, get my gun,” he said, staring at the youngster. <br />
<br />
A moment later, Seth came into the room with a rifle, and Ben groaned. He’d have thought that of all their brothers, Seth would have figured it was the shotgun that he wanted, but he couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t planning on using the thing, just making an impression. He reached his hand out for the rifle, and then he looked back at the father of his grandchild. “You hit my wife?”<br />
<br />
“No,” Ruby said. Ben turned to see that Raph was helping her up to her feet. Ruby dusted herself off, then added, “He just shoved me.”<br />
<br />
Ben nodded and turned back to Greg. “Where’s my daughter?”<br />
<br />
The teenager seemed to deflate, and Ben relaxed a little bit. “I don’t know. I got a text message from her friend Sara, said she was in trouble and that she was staying with friends.”<br />
<br />
“Which friends?” Mal was quick to interject. <br />
<br />
“I don’t know,” the teenager responded. “She didn’t tell me. She just said that Charlie had a fight with her mom and that she was afraid to go home.”<br />
<br />
“Afraid...” Ruby said behind Ben, and he took a step back and put his arm around his wife. He could hear the tears before he saw them, and he gently kissed her cheek, then brushed the tears from her face. They’d talked about this more than once, and he knew that she understood now, but it wasn’t going to stop hurting any of them for a long time. Trust would have to be earned again. <br />
<br />
Ben sighed. “Your parents know you’re here?”<br />
<br />
“No sir.” <br />
<br />
“Then you’d best come on back an’ give ‘em a call,” Ben said. He didn’t say a word about Charlie being pregnant, because that was for her to tell Greg, and he wasn’t even sure whether or not Greg was the father. “You can tell ‘em that Charlie’s missin’ an’ that you’re helpin’ us look for her. Go on.” He nodded toward the phone and waited while the boy dialed, then he turned to look at his siblings and the two women. “We’re gonna find her. She’s alright. Wherever she is, she’s hidin’. Might have to do some diggin’ to find out who she’s been hangin’ out with lately. After last week, it’s hard to tell.”<br />
<br />
“Sara, Emmaline and Karen,” Greg said from where he stood near the phone. Greg could hear the drone of the answering machine message on the other end of the line, and then Greg left a brief message. Ben nodded in his direction.<br />
<br />
“You got their numbers?” <br />
<br />
“Yes Sir.”<br />
<br />
“Call them.” <br />
<br />
Ben crossed to the phone and picked it up, then dialed the number for the local police. Ten minutes later, he was off the phone, and Seth was gone, leaving his wife behind. Looking around at the gathered crowd, Ben sighed. “Cops will be here any minute. Ruby, you give them all the information you got, an’ that note. Make sure they get a recent picture, too. We’re goin’ out lookin,” he said. “Greg, you ride with me. Mal, Raph, you take your cars. Who’s got a cell phone?”<br />
<br />
“I’ve got one,” Greg said. Raph and Mal both held theirs up, and Ben nodded his head. “A’ight. Then every car’s got one. We can communicate. Let’s go find our girl.”<br />
<br />
Ben wasn’t even thinking about how much trouble Charlie was in yet. He was too worried about her being out there, the possibility of her seeking an abortion, how she’d take care of herself, would she do what a lot of young girls did if they ran away and turned to the streets? His Christian sensibilities wouldn’t even let him think of it as he climbed up in the truck and waited for Greg to join him. <br />
<br />
“Call those numbers. Get in touch with those girls,” he said to Greg as he started the engine on the old Ford. The truck was getting up in miles, and with the price of gas, he didn’t want to be out there doing all this driving, but what choice did he have? Charlie was his daughter, and he was scared out of his mind that something was going to happen to her! <br />
<br />
“Yes Sir,” Greg said. Ben glanced to the side to see him dialing fast, then putting the phone to his ear. “Karen!” he said. “Hey, how’s it going? Yeah, this is Greg. Just wanted to ask if you’d seen or heard anything from Charlie.... No, Charlotte. Nery, you idiot! Charlotte Nery! Awww, fuck,” the boy muttered. “She hung up on me. Try her house first. 152 Gwendolyn Avenue.”<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Three hours later, Ben opened the front door at home, Greg trailing behind him. There was still a cop car in the drive, and Seth’s car was back, but he was the only one. He and Greg were both worse for the wear, and he was sure that the teenager was at least as exhausted as he was. When they entered, Ruby jumped to her feet and immediately scuttled off into the kitchen, and Ben sank down onto the couch, putting his head in his hands. <br />
<br />
“You’re the father?” one of the officers asked. <br />
<br />
Ben didn’t even raise his head, but nodded. “Yes. I am.”<br />
<br />
“Your wife was saying that there was a fight between her and your daughter, and that she’s pregnant,” the officer said to Ben.<br />
<br />
“She’s... She’s what?” Greg asked. Ben looked up. The boy was standing over him, and he sighed. “Charlie’s pregnant?” <br />
<br />
The boy was pale, and Ben stood up, gently taking his elbow and guiding him into the nearest chair. He shot the officer a warning look and was grateful when Ruby brought some sweet iced tea in a pitcher with some glasses. She put the tray down on the table, and Ben went to pour a glass and hand it to Greg. He sat down on the edge of the coffee table and looked at the teen. “That’s got somethin’ to do with why she ain’t here. Her an’ Mrs. Nery had a fight about her bein’ pregnant. An’ Mama... Has a bit of a temper. It’s all dealt with now,” he added, looking over to where his wife was standing. “But there was a big misunderstandin’ that Mama can’t make clear til Charlie comes home. So we gotta find her. You understand, don’t you son?”<br />
<br />
“Is it mine?” Greg looked up at him, his dark brown eyes searching Ben’s face, and the man sighed and patted the boy on the knee. “Don’t know my girl to be the kind who’d be sleepin’ around, son. If you an’ her done the deed, I’d say this baby’s yours.”<br />
<br />
The teenager turned his head away, and Ben sighed and stood up, then faced the officer. “My wife an’ my daughter had a fight yesterday when Ruby found out Charlie was pregnant. She called her a couple of names an’ she slapped her. It ain’t right, an Ruby knows it. We done talked about it.” Although he didn’t want to have welfare on them, Ben also thought that it was best that he was straight up and honest with the officer if they were going to find his daughter.<br />
<br />
The officer (McNeil was the name on his tag) made some notes on his pad, and then looked up at Ben. “Would you consider your wife a violent person, Mr. Nery?”<br />
<br />
“No Sir,” Ben said instantly, defending Ruby. Behind him, she sank down onto a chair, and he saw out of the corner of his eye that she put her head in her hands. “I wouldn’t consider my wife abusive at all. I think she was shocked by the news.”<br />
<br />
“And your daughter. Is she generally afraid of your wife?”<br />
<br />
Ben hesitated, then finally shook his head. The officer made a note, and he cursed himself inwardly for his hesitation. “Officer, my daughter is sixteen years old. She’s going through a difficult time an’ she an’ my wife don’t always get along the way that I’d like for them to. That ain’t a crime for anybody to not always get along. Nothin’ like this has ever happened before an’ it ain’t gonna happen again. Right now I think we need to focus on findin’ my daughter instead of on condemnin’ my wife.”<br />
<br />
“And we’re going to be looking for your daughter,” the other officer said. “But we need to know the circumstances. It will help us to know where to find her. This sort of domestic situation, we’d expect her to run to a friend’s house for a couple of days, then come home.”<br />
<br />
Ben shook his head. “I tried her friends. Four of them. Nobody’s seen her. I talked to the parents, the friends themselves. Nothing. No Charlotte.”<br />
<br />
“Well then you let us question them,” McNeil said. “They might be more likely to respond to the police than to an angry father,” he said. When he looked up from his notes, his face was kind and sympathetic. “I think we’ve got all the information that we need here,” he said. “If we find something out, we’ll call you. You do the same.” The man reached into his pocket and extended a business card, which Ben took.<br />
<br />
“Thank you,” Ben said, then closed his eyes as the officers existed just as Mal and Raphael came in through the front door. Ben looked up at them. Raphael was giving the officers a look that Ben could only think of as “skeptical” and he sighed, shaking his head. “Come on in,” he said. “You two find anything out?” <br />
<br />
“Only that Carrie’s a total bitch,” Raph said. “Holy shit. Wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she’s hiding Charlie out,” he added, then sank down onto a chair next to Bridget, who inched away.<br />
<br />
Malcolm rubbed his temples, and Ben watched his brother for a moment until he asked, “What did you find out?”<br />
<br />
“Only that we’re probably going to have child welfare on us,” Ben muttered.<br />
<br />
“What?” Mal asked, immediately coming to attention. “What for?”<br />
<br />
“The officers were asking a lot of questions about the fight I had with Charlie yesterday,” Ruby said in a soft voice from where she sat on the couch, rocking herself slightly. Ben sighed and went to sit next to her, pulling her against him and holding her tightly. <br />
<br />
“Well I know a good lawyer,” Mal said.<br />
<br />
“Really?” Ben asked, looking up at his brother. “Who?”<br />
<br />
The laughter momentarily broke the tension in the room. “I’ll get some paperwork ready,” Mal said once it had died down. “If they come to the house, call me, an’ don’t say a word to anybody. Right now you need to focus on findin’ Charlie though. Make that your priority. Leave the law to me.”<br />
<br />
It was just what Ben and Ruby needed: one more thing for them to worry about, after money and their missing daughter. Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-75151589121124739232011-07-10T01:37:00.001-07:002011-07-10T08:05:45.682-07:00Nery Legacy (5): The Day the Earth Stopped Spinning<div style="text-align: justify;"> “Should I go wake Charlie up?” Mama asked Daddy quietly as she poured his second cup of coffee. Clarissa pushed her own cup forward, silently asking for more for her as well, and then turned to look at her father. She’d noticed how her mother was moving stiffly this morning, and she’d gotten the feeling that she’d been sent out yesterday so that they could fight some more. Most of the time when her parents had a big argument, her mother was much more subdued the next day, and Rissa was observant; she’d put two and two together a year or so ago and realized that her mother got punished the same way that her older sister did. Since Rissa herself almost always managed to skate out of trouble before it got bad enough to earn a spanking, she excluded herself from the assessment. <br />
<br />
“Let her sleep,” Daddy said firmly, looking up at his wife and then gesturing for her to sit down and join him and Rissa for breakfast. “She had a rough day yesterday an’ I think it’s good for her to get the rest right now. Don’t you?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Sir,” Mama said as she slowly, wincingly sat down in her usual chair and took a sip of her coffee. This morning they had fresh scrambled eggs with pancakes. It was a good morning, but then Rissa rarely had a bad morning. She knew that they were poor, but at ten years old, she didn’t fully understand what that meant. Her needs were provided for, and there wasn’t much that she wanted that she didn’t already have. The chickens laid the eggs, and most mornings they ate them, but the pancakes were a special treat. <br />
<br />
“I could go get her,” Rissa offered. “Charlie loves pancakes.”<br />
<br />
“That’s why I made them,” Mama said quietly as she shook salt onto her eggs and then buttered her pancakes. “I’ll keep some in the oven for her when she comes down,” she added with a little sigh. <br />
<br />
It was strange the way that her parents interacted the morning after one of their fights. Rissa didn’t know what to make of it, now or ever, and she looked from one parent to the other until her father shook his head. “Let her sleep.” <br />
<br />
When Daddy turned a knowing look toward Mama, Rissa rolled her eyes. “She’s gonna be sleepin’ a lot now,” she told her parents, staring at both of them as they turned empty looks back at her. “Because, you know, she’s pregnant an’ all that.” Clarissa knew that she wasn’t supposed to know about her sister’s predicament, but she was getting tired of being treated like she was stupid. It was one of the reasons why she’d been so busy on Facebook lately, finding things out before either Mama or Daddy could know things, like Uncle Mal’s divorce, for example. In fact, Rissa thought that she was pretty clever. <br />
<br />
“Clarissa....” Daddy said warningly. <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Rissa looked up at her father, her blue eyes going wide in false surprise. “What?” she asked innocently. Did he really think that she hadn’t heard the conversations that had gone around the house yesterday about what was going on with her big sister? If people didn’t want her to hear things, then they probably ought to keep their voices down. It wasn’t like Mama had been particularly quiet when she’d been screaming at Charlie and calling her a whore. Rissa had heard every bit of it, and though she didn’t understand totally what it all meant, it was exciting to feel the tension in the house. Since she almost always managed to keep herself out of trouble, Rissa found the tension to be almost pleasant, making her quiver as she waited to find out what was going to happen next.<br />
<br />
There was a sharp intake of breath from Mama’s direction, and she began to fiercely cut up her pancakes as though she was hacking at them, trying to destroy them rather than prepare them to be eaten. Her face was red, and when Rissa looked more closely, she could see that there were tears on her mother’s cheeks. She frowned, about to reach out to her mother, suddenly concerned that she’d actually done something that made her mother cry, when her father cleared his throat.<br />
<br />
“Clarissa, finish eating and then get the dishes done. The washer ain’t workin’ an’ somebody’s gotta do ‘em by hand. I think you’re just the girl for the job this mornin’, don’t you?”<br />
<br />
Rissa frowned and poked at her eggs with her fork, then took a bite of them. It sounded distinctly like her father was scolding her, and that not only surprised her, it made her quite annoyed. She glanced up at him, then she pushed her plate away. “I’m finished,” she said irritably. The mood that had just a few minutes ago seemed tense and electric and exciting suddenly seemed to be focused on her, and she wondered what she’d done wrong.<br />
<br />
The phone rang, and Mama got up to answer it. Rissa sighed and picked up her plate, carrying it to the trash so that she could scrape it, then pulled a stool out so that she could stand at the sink. She ran the hot water in, then added some cold and the soap, finally loading the dishes in so that she could get them washed. Behind her she could hear her mother speaking in hushed tones, but she chose to ignore it until her father’s voice took over, and she felt more than saw her mother exit the kitchen. Now Rissa turned to look at her father, curiosity getting the better of her. She enjoyed her little eavesdropping sessions, when she listened in on adult conversations. It made her feel more grown up, and certainly more “in the know.” Smiling to herself as the thought went through her mind, Rissa didn’t catch the conversation until she heard a single, very dangerous word. “Clarissa.”<br />
<br />
Her hand paused on the dish that she was in the middle of washing, and when Daddy’s eyes met hers, Clarissa’s cheeks grew incredibly hot. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was that she was feeling, but her stomach knotted up like a pit when her father caught her eyes and gave her a stern look. She’d seen that look before, and it never ended well for her. He was still talking, but her ears were ringing so hard now that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. His lips were moving, but it was as though there was no sound coming out. It was only when Daddy pointed back to the sink that Rissa finally turned away, breaking the gaze and starting to work on the sink. She only had two more dishes, and they were finished quickly. She put them on the draining rack, then unplugged the sink, figuring that somebody else would put the dishes away later. About to slip out of the kitchen, Clarissa froze when her father cleared his throat and pointed to the corner. For a moment, she thought her heart had stopped. What had she done? She thought and thought and could come up with nothing obvious, so it was with a deep pout that she went to the indicated corner and crossed her arms sulkily over her chest. <br />
<br />
Now, with nothing at all to concentrate on, Rissa did focus in on her father’s phone conversation. “Yes. I’ve got it written down. Sure Mal. Yeah, I trust you. If you say he’s a good doctor, then I’ll bet he’s a good doctor. But it’s gotta be Charlie’s choice. She’s the one who’s gotta stick with the guy for nine months an’ beyond. Yeah. Yeah I got it bro. Thanks again. No. No, I don’t think you’ll be seein’ Clarissa on there much longer. Thanks for lettin’ me know. ‘Preciate it.”<br />
<br />
The phone clicked back onto the cradle, and there was a sense of movement from behind her. Clarissa turned her head over her shoulder only to find that her father was standing directly behind her with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at her with a stern expression on her face. “Nose in the corner,” he told her smoothly, and she had to slowly turn herself back around. Now she was really getting nervous. It was pretty obvious that Daddy was mad! She didn’t anger her parents very often, and the look he had on his face was one she was pretty sure was reserved just for her older sister, when she’d really messed up. Normally Rissa would relish that expression, knowing that she was about to be treated to the sound of Charlie getting her bottom spanked. But right now, she wasn’t sure that it wasn’t her who was about to be spanked.<br />
<br />
“You’re gonna stand there for ten minutes,” Daddy said. She heard the sound of him winding up the egg timer and putting it on the counter near her. She glanced at it in spite of herself just to check the time on it, and sure enough, it was set for ten minutes. “Then, when you’re finished,” her father was saying, “we’re going to get on the computer and you’re going to show me the Facebook page that you really aren’t supposed to have at your age. I want to see what it is that you’ve written there that concerned Uncle Malcolm enough that he felt the need to call and check up on your sister. Then you’re going to close the account. We’ll see what we’ll do from there, but I’m thinkin’ you’re gonna be a very sorry young lady before the day is out.”<br />
<br />
Rissa’s breath whooshed out in relief. If this was about her being on Facebook, that wasn’t that big a deal, was it? After all, Charlie had helped her set up the account, and worst case scenario, she could deflect the blame onto her sister. Besides, both of her parents knew that she had an account there. It couldn’t be that bad! She’d sit out ten minutes in the corner and then, if Daddy wanted her to, she’d shut down her page and that would be the end of that. No big deal!<br />
<br />
But ten minutes passed particularly slowly, and Rissa found herself fidgeting by the time the timer finally made it’s sharp, metallic “ding.” She was relieved, and she turned out of the corner to search the room for her father. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a notebook and a pen, making some calculations, and she waited for a moment for him to look up at her, since he had to have heard the timer as well. Instead, he said, “Stay right there. Let me get this finished up an’ then we’ll be havin’ a look at that page.”<br />
<br />
Rissa was starting to get a bit nervous. Her father didn’t seem to be in a particularly forgiving mood, and that was unusual. Not only was he generally a very loving father and a forthcoming man, but she’d just served her punishment as she saw it. He should be giving her a hug and a kiss and telling her that she was his good girl again. But he wasn’t, and that made the ten year-old squirm a little bit. “Daddy?” Rissa asked anxiously.<br />
<br />
“Not right now, Clarissa. We’ll talk in a minute. Right now you just stand there quietly. I’m almos’ done.”<br />
<br />
With a frown the little girl looked down at her feet. Her shoe was untied, so she bent to tie it up, mostly because she was bored and wanted something to do, and he hadn’t told her to face the corner again, so she figured she wasn’t really still being punished, just being made to wait for something. When she was finished, she stood up and looked back at Daddy just as he slapped the notebook shut and put the pen down on it. He rose slowly from the table, then nodded toward her, and Rissa felt her cheeks grow hot. She didn’t like the look on his face at all.<br />
<br />
“Let’s go,” Daddy said firmly. He gestured toward the door, and Clarissa understood that he meant for her to go out ahead of him. She bit her lower lip, dropping her head as though she was some kind of a criminal, and she went into the living room where the computer was. Daddy pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit, and the little girl did sit down on the hard wooden chair. Daddy stood behind her with his hands on the back of the chair. “Turn the computer on,” he instructed. <br />
<br />
There was something ominous in her father’s tone, and Rissa shivered as she bent to press the button that would boot up the computer. Daddy said nothing else as the monitor came on, flashing its colors and then the windows logo before finally finishing its boot. “Pull up Explorer and go to Facebook,” Daddy instructed. <br />
<br />
Rissa did what she was told, but her fingers felt stiff on the mouse and the keyboard. Her mouth was dry, and she wet her lips with her tongue, trying to make them feel less parched. When the page loaded, her father cleared her throat, and without being told to, she logged herself in. The news feed loaded first, and Daddy said, “I want to see your page. Go to your... What do they call it? Your wall.”<br />
<br />
She still didn’t understand what her father wanted. Rissa navigated to her wall, then dropped her hands down into her lap, staring at the page. She updated, generally, about twice a day, when she was able to sneak in some computer time. There were two from yesterday, when she’d been on the computer during the fight upstairs. She’d heard every word, since there wasn’t a door on Charlie’s bedroom. <br />
<br />
The first status update (the second one down on the page) read: “Mama says Charlotte Nery is a whore!”<br />
<br />
The second status update (the first on the page) read: “CHARLIE’S PREGNANT!!!!”<br />
<br />
After reading these two once more, things started to click into place for Rissa. Her father’s stony silence behind her was enough to get her heart beating hard in her chest, and she felt the back of her neck grow very hot. Certain that her father’s eyes were on her, Rissa didn’t want to turn around and see the expression on his face. <br />
<br />
“So, you did post that on Facebook, didn’t you?” Daddy said. Rissa wasn’t sure about what she heard in his voice, but she thought that he sounded very, very tired. “Uncle Mal called to ask what... This was all about.” Rissa could tell that there was definitely something that her father wasn’t saying, and she pouted a little bit, wishing that he’d tell her what Uncle Malcolm had actually said. It sounded like there was more to the story than that. <br />
<br />
There was a brief silence, then Daddy cleared his throat. “Did you stop to think that postin’ that might hurt Mama’s feelin’s, or Charlie’s?” There was a long pause, and Rissa felt like somebody had dropped a lead weight into her gut. The truth was that no, she hadn’t thought about how it would make her mother or her sister feel. What she had been thinking about was how popular she’d be since she had new “insider” information on something going on in the Nery family. It was what she was known for, wasn’t it? She was the little journalist of the family. She got the “scoop” on everybody. She’d never, ever considered it gossip the way that it felt like gossip right now. <br />
<br />
Rissa dropped her head low. Her cheeks felt like they were going to burst into flames at any moment, and then she quietly said, “I’ll delete it.” She couldn’t identify the feeling that she had deep within herself. She was young yet, and regret was one thing; shame was another, and an emotion she’d never experienced before that moment. <br />
<br />
“Damn straight you will,” Daddy said harshly enough that the little girl did finally turn around and look up into his eyes, her own blue eyes beginning to water at his tone. His eyes were hard at first, then softened as he put a hand on her shoulder. “Delete the account,” Daddy said. “Now.”<br />
<br />
Turning around, Rissa made the necessary maneuvers with shaking hands. She didn’t want to lose her Facebook account, but she was at least sure that was where her punishment ended. A tear spilled, slipping down her cheek and leaving a track there. She tucked her hands into her lap for a moment, and then, without being told to, she quietly shut the computer down. Instead of getting up, Rissa sat there, feeling bad for herself. No child enjoyed being punished, and right now she felt like she’d just had the worst punishment in the world.<br />
<br />
There was a long moment of silence before Daddy said, “Alright. Get up. Then go into the kitchen and get the wooden spoon and bring it back right here.” <br />
<br />
Rissa’s head shot up so fast that she nearly got whiplash. “What?” she asked, turning around on the seat but not getting up. Her bottom was safest where it was, if he was talking about a wooden spoon! “Why?” She knew perfectly well what he wanted it for, but what she didn’t understand was why he was going to spank her. He’d already made her stand in the corner, and he’d already taken away her Facebook account. Why did she also have to be spanked?<br />
<br />
Daddy sighed, and his face softened more, small lines forming around his eyes and between them as he crouched down in front of her and looked into her eyes. She followed the blue-eyed gaze as he moved, keeping her eyes locked on him. “Because I want to make sure that the next time our back is turned, you ain’t settin’ up another account, or calling yer uncles on the phone to tell ‘em stuff that ain’t their business. Because you hurt Mama real bad, Clarissa. An’ it’s just lucky Charlie don’t know about this. Maybe she won’t have to. But anythin’ you put out there on that Internet thingy is gonna stay out there. You can’t take it back. Now the whole world could know that Charlie’s pregnant. An’ it ain’t their business. That’s for family. An’ when I say family, I mean you, an’ me, an’ Mama an’ Charlie, not yer uncles an’ yer cousins an’ yer aunts.<br />
<br />
“So you’re gonna go on inta that kitchen an’ bring me back that spoon. An’ then I’m gonna pull down your jeans an’ yer panties an’ put you right across my lap so I can give you a good smacked bottom. Because I think you need it, Rissa. Charlie ain’t the only one who gets her bottom smacked around here.”<br />
<br />
“No,” Rissa said quietly. It was taking her a lot to take in everything that Daddy had said, and there was a deep down hurt at his words. “Mama does too,” she said, contemplating what she knew, and doing what she always did: sharing information. <br />
<br />
“An’ so does Clarissa Jeanine Nery,” Daddy said. He straightened up, and when Rissa lost the eye contact, she felt the tightening edge of panic in her chest. “Go on now. Go get me that spoon.”<br />
<br />
The tone of disappointment in Daddy’s voice really hit Rissa like a punch in the gut, and she slowly slid out of the chair. There was no disobeying Daddy now. She knew that if she tried, he’d only take on a firmer tone. She’d heard him do it with Charlie, and once or twice even with Mama. And she hadn’t been immune to his scoldings or the occasional spanking, either. She’d just been better at not getting caught than her older sister was, in part because Rissa had been able to learn from Charlie’s mistakes.<br />
<br />
The spoon was located on the far end of the kitchen, and Rissa dragged her feet the entire way. When she got to the little vase that held the cooking implements, she grabbed for it, then held it in her hands for a moment. She glanced at the back door, thinking about wether or not she might should run, and then she thought better of it and started instead back into the living room, still moving slowly.<br />
<br />
When Rissa reached the chair where she’d been sitting a moment ago, Daddy had turned it around and was now sitting in it. He was wordless as he reached for her and pulled her between his feet. Rissa tripped a little bit, stumbling so that she fell against him, and she was comforted when her father wrapped his arms around her gently trembling body and kissed her forehead. Taking any comfort she could get, Rissa leaned into her father, wrapping her thin arms around his waist and holding tightly to him. She wasn’t crying yet; she’d save her tears for when she really needed them, and she wasn’t as emotional as she knew Charlie to be. In fact, Charlie was one of the reasons that Clarissa tried to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want to be as unpredictable as her sister. <br />
<br />
Finally Daddy let her go, and Rissa took a step backward. He reached for the spoon, and she let it slip from her fingers, neither volunteering it nor holding onto it to prevent him from taking it from her. Her mouth was dry, and she felt as though she needed to pee. She could have asked, and she was sure that he’d have let her go, but it didn’t seem right, and even at ten, Rissa could recognize a nervous bladder. <br />
<br />
Daddy put the spoon between his teeth, and then his hands were on the waistband of her jeans. Rissa wanted to squirm away, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes chose now to fill with the hot tears that would eventually be falling like rain when Daddy got her over his lap. His hands were fast, and before Rissa could stop him, her jeans were at her knees. “Daddy...” Rissa said pleadingly, but he just shook his head and hooked his fingers into her panties, pushing those down as well. <br />
<br />
Because she was still young enough not to be embarrassed by her nudity, Rissa’s hands went back to protect her bottom instead of hiding her modesty. Her cheeks grew warm, but what she was feeling wasn’t embarrassment or shame; it was a mixture of dread of that awful spoon, and the feeling that she had disappointed her father. She didn’t want to be spanked, but she, like every other female in the house, knew better than to argue with Daddy when he was ready to lay down the law. <br />
<br />
“You know the position, young lady,” Daddy said, cutting into Rissa’s thoughts. “Even if you haven’t been in it in too long, you now how it goes.” He pulled her between his knees, then turned her, putting a gentle pressure on her right shoulder until Rissa had no choice but to bend. And so she did, bending over her father’s lap in such a way that her legs were trapped beneath is right leg, effectively restraining her. <br />
<br />
Rissa didn’t like it. She didn’t like the way that it felt like there was no chance of her moving away from him. She didn’t like the fact that it felt like he was angry with her. She didn’t like the way that she felt vulnerable, and suddenly exposed with the cool air breezing across her tender bottom. Worse, she knew that it wouldn’t be cool for long.<br />
<br />
“I’m disappointed, Clarissa Jeanine,” Daddy was scolding. “You really hurt Mama, an’ you’re gonna be apologizin’ to her as soon as you get a chance. An’ I think maybe helpin’ your sister through a rough time might give you an appreciation for what she’s goin’ through right now. The last thing this family needs is you spreadin’ rumors about what’s goin’ in inside our walls. You understand me?”<br />
<br />
Rissa whimpered, squirming a little bit. She could feel the spoon resting on her bottom, ready to go, and when he didn’t start spanking, she realized that Daddy wanted an answer from her. “Y-yes Daddy!” she stammered. “I won’t do it again!” The spoon moved slightly, and the little girl tensed hard. “Oooh oh! No! Daddy please! I’ll be such a good girl! I will! I won’t ever go on Facebook again!” <br />
<br />
In the moment, Clarissa meant every word of her promise. She didn’t want that spoon to fall on her tender little bottom. “No, you won’t,” Daddy said. And that was the last Rissa heard, because to her young ears, the crack of the spoon as it landed on her quivering little bottom sounded just like a gunshot ringing out in the house. It took about half a second before the pain hit her, and then she was sure that she’d been stung! Her entire body stiffened, and she let out a loud yell. She hadn’t even gotten her breath again before the spoon smacked down again, and she twisted as hard as she could, trying to squirm out of her father’s grasp.<br />
<br />
“You know better,” Daddy scolded. The spanking stopped, and Rissa was about ot breathe a sigh of relief, but she didn’t have time. Her father grabbed her hand and pinned it to the small of her back, fully restraining her. The ten year-old tugged at her hand, testing her father’s hold, but he had her too firmly. A moment later, she heard another of those gunshots, and then all that was left was her wails and the fire in her miserable little bottom. <br />
<br />
The spanking seemed to go on forever, and by the time that Rissa realized her father had stopped the descent of the awful spoon, she swore that he’d burned the flesh right off her backside! She was sobbing so hard that her stomach hurt, and she’d been yelling so loudly that her throat was raw as well. Now she just lay over her father’s lap, sobbing out her misery.<br />
<br />
“I don’t want to have to do this again, Clarissa Jeanine,” Daddy said. His hand came down in one sharp spank on her bottom, and Rissa jerked again, giving a small cry of surprised anguish. “Next time it’s going to be your hairbrush. Rumors aren’t pretty things, Rissa. They get out of control, and people get hurt. Don’t let me find out you’ve been spreading them again.”<br />
<br />
“Nuh-no, Daddy!”<br />
<br />
“Good,” Daddy said. She felt herself being lifted, and then she was standing between Daddy’s knees, rubbing hard at her aching bottom. Daddy pulled her hard into a hug, and Rissa put one arm around his neck while she rubbed her bottom with the other hand. <br />
<br />
“I love you Daddy!” Clarissa cried. She needed the reassurance of hearing him say it back, and she’s been taught by her father that the best way to receive love was to give it first.<br />
<br />
Daddy hugged her tightly and then said, “I love you too, Clarissa.” He kissed her head, then bent to start tugging her panties up. <br />
<br />
It was a good thing that Clarissa was holding onto Daddy as he worked her clothing up. Her legs were weak, and she was already feeling overwhelmed from the punishment. She might have stumbled if she hadn’t had a foothold, because it was at that moment that her mother came rushing down the stairs, shrieking, “SHE’S GONE!”<br />
<br />
“What?” Daddy asked, pulling Clarissa’s jeans the rest of the way up. Rissa leaned against him, rubbing at her cheek for comfort the way she had since she was just a little girl. She ignored her mother, still too embarrassed and ashamed that she’d hurt her to feel comfortable talking to her. “Who’s gone?”<br />
<br />
“Charlie! She’s not in her room an’ there’s a note!” <br />
<br />
When Rissa looked up at her mother, she saw the tears in the blue eyes, the disheveled red hair, and she wondered where the “crazy look” was, because this seemed like just the moment for it. And that, a moment later, was when Rissa realized that her family could fall apart. <br />
<br />
“Is Daddy gonna divorce you, Mama?”<br />
<br />
“No baby,” Daddy said. “But I am gonna kill your sister,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. She knew better than to take him literally, but she also had the sense that something really big was going on now. And she couldn’t even get on Facebook to tell everybody what was happening!</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-17246302534714090772011-07-07T15:58:00.001-07:002011-07-07T16:08:44.955-07:00Nery Legacy (4): Just What She Deserves<div style="text-align: justify;"> “Rissa, why don’t you go on out and see to the dogs?” Ben asked his daughter as he came down into the living room where his daughter was curled up on the couch with a book. It was the same spot that he often found one of his daughters. Both were heavy readers, especially with little else to do for entertainment. “Give me about an hour,” he told her, glancing uneasily toward the door to the kitchen. He just hoped that Ruby hadn’t headed out somewhere. He needed to talk to her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “But I’m readin’ my book,” Clarissa protested, looking up just as Ben turned his head to look back at her. He raised his eyebrows, and his ten year-old daughter got up with a huff and went to put her book back on the shelf, then crossed her arms over her chest as she headed for the back door and her sneakers. “Fine!” Rissa said, and Ben had to take a deep breath to keep his temper in check. She was ten, and just getting into that time period where things were likely to be difficult both for her and for her parents. He had to be understanding, even if he didn’t understand.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben was sure that Clarissa had heard the conversation between Ruby and Charlie. There was no possible way that she could have missed it, with Ruby shouting the way that she’d been. He could only hope that Rissa knew to keep her mouth shut and not to be spreading rumors about her sister. Charlie was sensitive enough right now without having anything else sparking her insecurities, and the last thing that she needed was to have Clarissa telling people what was going on with her pregnancy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> When Clarissa had left the room, and he’d heard the back door slam, Ben took a deep breath and went into the kitchen. Sure enough, Ruby was standing at the counter, putting together some dough for bread. The work inside was as never ending as the work he had to do on the homestead, and he didn’t want to take Ruby away from doing what she had to do. But when she’d slapped the dough into a bowl and covered it to rise, he cleared his throat. “I wanna talk to you in the garage,” he told his wife. They were going to be having a very serious talk, and he didn’t want to have Charlie overhearing it. His older daughter was feeling vulnerable enough without overhearing another fight between her parents.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> He felt for her. There was no question that Ben had strong feelings about Charlie and what she was going through right now. He hadn’t really processed all of his emotions, having found out that she was pregnant. But there was one thing that he knew for sure; he loved his daughter more than life itself, and if she needed something from him, he would do his best to get it for her. They were going to have another mouth to feed; he knew that, and he wasn’t afraid of it. They were going to have to buy clothes and diapers. There would be more laundry to do. But they would make it through because they were a family, and that’s what families did: they supported one another.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I’m bakin’ bread,” Ruby replied, not turning around as she started to work on finding another yeast packet in the fridge. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “It can wait,” Ben said in a firm voice. “If I’ve got to, I can find a way to buy us some bread. If it’s that bad, there’s food banks that have it an’ will give us some. But right now, there’s bigger stuff than you bakin’ this bread an’ avoidin’ me. You know you’re in deep shit, Ruby Nery. You know what you did to Charlie was wrong. An’ you know that we’re gonna talk about it, so let’s go on out into the garage an’ start talkin’ about it right now, outta her earshot. She’s been hearin’ enough of our arguments, she don’t need to hear no more of ‘em.” He kept his voice as low as he could to make sure that Charlotte wouldn’t hear him speaking, then he reached out for his wife’s arm and gave a gentle tug. “The garage is quiet. She won’t hear nothin’, an’ you can scream all you want. Cause by the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be screamin’ like she was last week when you whipped her an’ left her by herself. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “You got any idea how scared that kid was when you did that? You have any idea of what she’s goin’ through right now, Ruby? I got a feelin’ she was scared before you went an’ smacked her. Now... Now I don’t think she knows what to think.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “So now you got two choices. You come out there to the garage with me an’ we fight this out -- which is gonna leave you not sittin’ for at least the next three days -- or you can leave. An’ I mean it, Ruby. You keep treatin’ those kids that way, an’ you’re outta here. I don’t want anythin’ to do with that shit. It’s abusive, an’ it ain’t gonna happen, not in my house. You understand me?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “And if I leave?” Ruby asked harshly as she turned toward him. “If I choose not to submit to your discipline any more?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Then you don’t come back,” Ben said simply.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> For a long moment, the two of them stood, staring at one another. Ruby’s blue eyes were dark with anger, but Ben didn’t back down. His wife could be terrifying when she was in one of her crazy moods the way that she had been lately, but he wasn’t afraid of her, and he tried to show her that with his posture and his strength. It seemed to him that she was taking a moment to consider the two options she’d been given, and then Ruby let out a huff, dropped the packet of yeast on the floor, and then stormed off for the back door and the detached garage.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben took a deep, calming breath. He spent a moment just breathing, reminding himself that his belt would be plenty sufficient to make an adequate impression on his wife, even if he did think that she deserved a lot more than that. He thought that if he was braver, he would have thrown her out, but it worried him that she’d fight him for custody of the girls, and Charlotte needed him right now. And he was sure that if Ruby lost Charlotte, she’d get her claws into Rissa as well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ten minutes had passed before Ben finally followed his wife out the back door and to the garage. He closed the door carefully behind him once he’d checked to make sure that Rissa wasn’t anywhere nearby where she could hear what was going on inside, and then he turned to face his wife.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “It’s clear to everybody who lives in this house just how you feel about Charlotte, Ruby. The worst thing about it is that I’m sure that it’s clear to her too. You done more than hurt her feelin’s this afternoon, Ruby. You crushed her spirit. You took our vibrant sixteen year-old daughter an’ made her feel like she was about three inches tall. You didn’t just punish her for somethin’ she can’t help; you humiliated her. You know what she said to me, Ruby?” When his wife didn’t respond immediately, Ben pressed on, “She said that you hated her. An’ I couldn’t even tell her different, cause I ain’t sure right now that you don’t hate her. I can’t even imagine thinkin’ that my Mama hated me. An’ that’s how our daughter feels.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ruby gave him a blank, hard look, and Ben took a deep breath, ready to go on when she finally spoke. “She’s exaggerating, Ben. She wants your attention, so she’s makin’ out that there’s more goin’ on than what there is.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben raised his eyebrows and his chin at his wife. “Right,” he said. “So you’re tellin’ me she gave herself that big bruise on her cheek? Cause I was under the impression that you smacked her, Ruby. An’ I don’t care what she’s done, there ain’t no call for that.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “You don’t --”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Deal with her every day. I know, Ruby. It’s a tired sayin’, an’ I’m tired of hearin’ it. I spent the last week with our daughter an’s he’s an amazin’ young woman, doin’ her best to help me an’ I think she’s lyin’ low, feeling bad about some of the stuff she’s heard you say, too. You notice this afternoon she done said she didn’t need no new shoes? You remember her sayin’ that when we were gettin’ Rissa’s shoes for her? Charlie done heard you say that you’re tired of her askin’ for stuff that we can’t afford. Her sneakers have holes in the bottoms of ‘em, an’ she knows it’s another month before we go into town, but she’s makin’ do to try an’ help you out, an’ you’re shoutin’ at her an’ smackin’ her like that, Ruby. I ain’t never been so ashamed of nobody in my whole life!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “She was--”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “She was what, Ruby?” Ben was on a roll! “She was speakin’ respectful to you? Cause that’s what I was hearin’ when I got up there to hear you smack her. She was scared? Yeah, she sure as heck was. She’s sixteen, an’ she’s in a lot of trouble. Her life ain’t ever gonna be the same again, an’ her Mama’s actin’ like she’s done gone an’ killed somebody! She ain’t. She’s a scared kid, an’ right now she needs both of us.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben paused, angry. “Go on an’ get those jeans an’ panties down. Ain’t no sex after this, Ruby. This is what you need, my leather an’ your backside so that the next time your daughter needs you, you open your arms instead of smackin’ her just like you did. When we’re done here, you’re gonna go on up to our room an’ stay there for the rest of the night. I’ll fix supper, or Charlie can help me with it. She’s a good little cook when you let her help you in the kitchen, but it ain’t often, is it? You’re too busy in there with Clarissa, an’ shuttin’ Charlotte out. She knows it, too. She’s hurt, Ruby.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> He’d gone too far, and Ben stopped, waiting while his wife fumbled with the button on her jeans. “What’re you gonna do?” she asked, her voice shyer than what he was expecting.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I’m gonna do like you did to Charlie last week,” Ben said. “Only what you done is way worse than her sneakin’ out an’ tryin’ some alcohol. This is a big thing, Ruby. I want you to remember that for a long time.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> While Ruby pushed her jeans and her panties down, Ben started on his belt, unbuckling it and then pulling it off. “I’m in charge of discipline until I think I can trust you again,” he told his wife. “Cause right now, I think you just wanna hurt our girl. I don’t know where that got into you, but that’s what it’s lookin’ like.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> When Ruby said nothing at all, Ben was sure that he’d hit the nail on the head, and that made him sad, and made him feel guilty since he was the one who had let Ruby do that to their daughter. He sighed, then doubled his belt over. “Bend on over the work bench,” he told his wife, gesturing toward the back of the garage, where there was a small workshop area. “Let’s get this done with before Rissa comes in expectin’ our attention.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Shaking his head, Bed followed Ruby into the workshop. She moved slowly, hobbled by her jeans and her panties, holding them up at the front as she went. He knew that by the time he was finished, he was probably going to be carrying her into the house and settling her into a bath. She’d want to sleep afterward, he was sure. He wasn’t planning on going easy on her at all, and by the time that he was finished, he hoped that she really would regret her choices, and maybe try to change the way that she was treating Charlotte. His concern now was: could she?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> In the workshop, Ruby turned around to face her husband, and Ben instantly put his hands on his hips, defensive as he raised his eyebrows and looked at her sternly. “I don’t want you to do this,” she said. “I don’t like it when you treat me like I’m a child. An’ if I say no, then you ain’t allowed to do it.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “You’re right,” Ben said. “If you say no, then it becomes a legal issue an’ I could be in serious trouble. Just like you could be if I called the cops about the way you struck out at Charlotte. You can say no, Ruby; an’ you can walk away an’ never come back. You know I ain’t gonna call the cops same as I know you ain’t gonna call them just because I give you the whippin’ you know you deserve. You wanna call up Papa right now an’ find out how he feels about all this?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> His words seemed to hit their mark as Ruby paled and shook her head. “No,” she said slowly, then cleared her throat. “No Sir.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “That’s better. You know what I want, Ruby. Get yourself bent over the workbench so that we can take care of business here. An’ when we’re finished, you’re gonna spend the evenin’ thinkin’ about what you could be sayin’ to Charlotte in the mornin’ to make her feel better. You got a lot of work to do, girl.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben watched and waited as Ruby bent herself slowly over the desk. With her bottom poking out, her legs slightly spread, he felt a stirring in his groin, and he closed his eyes, trying to think of something highly unpleasant so that he could remember that this was entirely business. “I’m thinking six with my belt will do the trick,” he told his wife when he was finished cooling himself off mentally. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ruby shifted, and Ben was sure that she was nervous, maybe even afraid. “It’s going to hurt,” he reminded her. “And when it does, I want you to think about the fact that last week you did this to our sixteen year-old daughter, and think about just how much she was hurting when you sent her upstairs by herself without so much as a hug of reassurance. She was scared then, Ruby, an’ she’s scared now. An’ I’ll bet you’re plenty scared too,” he added as he placed his hand firmly on his wife’s back. She was holding onto the other side of the bench, and he knew that meant he was safe to start.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben lined the belt up, placing it against the fullest part of Ruby’s bottom. He made sure it was even, then drew his arm back to the shoulder and let the strap fly, whipping solidly across Ruby’s backside. She grunted, and he let his arm drop, giving her a moment to recognize the pain, to feel it, and to prepare for the next one. The stripe was pink, but growing red fast, puffing up slightly, especially at the edges. He put more pressure on Ruby’s back, shaking his head. She wasn’t crying yet, but he knew that she was a lot stronger than one of their girls, as well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “You need to be thinkin’ about what it had to feel like to be Charlie. She’s not as strong as you. She can’t take as much. An’ I ain’t gonna be abandonin’ you after, either.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Once more Ben lined the belt up, this time an inch lower, just where her bottom was starting to curve down. The belt swung back and connected with a resounding crack, this time drawing a short groan from Ruby. Ben patted her back, then lined the belt up again, eager to get it over with, even though she wasn’t moving yet. He was planning on taking the belt all the way down her thighs, as low as he had to go, but not going below her knees. This time, the belt was half an inch below the previous mark, and he whipped at his wife again, taking her halfway to where she would go. Now Ruby screamed, and Ben nodded his head. “Seems like I’m gettin’ through to you then, Ruby girl,” he said.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> There were three more strokes to go. One, he would apply to her sit spots, but he wanted that one to be last. So now he lined the belt up against the backs of his wife’s thighs. Her head raised, and she made a small sound of fear in her throat, but Ben just shook his head. “Should have thought about that when you were smackin’ my daughter the way you done, Ruby. You think you were just gonna get away with that?” he asked. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> But talk was cheap, and the only way he knew to get through to Ruby was to do what he was doing. He pulled the belt back again, this time cracking it hard across her thighs. He didn’t wait before he did it again, the bright red marks appearing quickly on his wife’s strong, muscular legs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> By now Ruby was sobbing, her fingers white on the back of the bench, and Ben just shook his head unsympathetically. “I’d love to feel for you, Ruby, but you didn’t really feel much for Charlotte now did you?” he asked her. “When you were strappin’ her last week an’ when you were smackin’ her face today an’ calling my daughter a whore. Ain’t much sympathy for you now then, is there? I wonder if you’re feelin’ as bad as she is. I doubt it, darlin’. I doubt it.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> This time, Ben made his wife wait a few minutes. He didn’t even line up his belt, just holding her down over the bench firmly with his left hand, feeling her heart racing through her back. Her face was red, and she was trembling slightly as he shook his head and tutted at her. Although there was no doubt that he enjoyed spanking his wife, he wished that he didn’t have to do this. The fact that he had to do it meant that his wife had done something so out of line that it was unthinkable. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Ben said finally, his arm still at his side. “I’m gonna give you one last one to really count. An’ then you’re gonna go on into the house an’ up to our room an’ you ain’t gonna come out until tomorrow mornin’. You’ll be missin’ your supper tonight, but that’s nothin’ compared to what Charlotte’s goin’ through. An’ I want you to spend some time thinkin’ about what you’re gonna say to her the next time she lets you get near her, which I’m warnin’ you Ruby, might be a while from now.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Now he was ready, and Ben lined the belt up against his wife’s sit spots. He took a deep breath, drew his arm back, and really let the belt fly. Ruby’s reaction was instant and strong. She jolted, then let out a scream of agony, her body finally heaving as she dissolved into real sobs, her fingers letting go of the other side of the bench to cover her face as she cried. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I have no sympathy, Ruby,” Ben said as he threaded his belt back through the loops of his jeans. But with a start, he realized that he ewas lying. He didn’t like to see her crying the way that she was, and it didn’t matter if it was his wife or one of his daughters, Ben had a natural desire to nurture. He gently reached for Ruby’s arm and pulled her up to her feet, then pulled her against his body, holding her and shushing her, whispering soothingly in her ear as he took the weight that she couldn’t hold up herself. He kissed her head, then rubbed her back and bent to tug his wife’s panties up, then her jeans. He didn’t bother to button them or zip them, not with her crying so hard, and he gently bent to scoop her up into his arms, cradling her as he finally carried her out of the garage and kicked the door closed behind him. He could hear Rissa’s voice off in the distance, and he shut his eyes, silently praying that she’d give him enough time to get Ruby into the house before she followed him in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Thankfully, Ben was halfway up the stairs with his wife when he heard the back door closed. He breathed a slow sigh, then shook his head. “I’m gonna have to deal with her,” he told his wife sadly. “I ain’t gonna be able to stay with you. But I want to, darlin’,” he reminded her, then gave her a squeeze as he opened the bedroom door and gently put Ruby down on her feet. “Might as well get undressed, put on a nightgown. It’ll be more comfortable.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> When he heard the foot steps on the stairs, Ben went to the door and made sure to lock it. A moment later, he heard Rissa’s hand on the knob. “Just go on downstairs!” he called out to his daughter. “I’ll be down there in a few minutes!” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Ben bent to kiss his wife’s mouth, then brushed her hair behind her ear. “We’ll talk again before bed,” he promised her, then gave her a sharp pat to her bottom before exiting the bedroom to find Clarissa and talk to Charlotte again.</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-8916158451589711622011-07-05T23:54:00.000-07:002011-07-05T23:57:26.700-07:00Nery Legacy (3): Troubles at Home*<div style="text-align: justify;"> For a week, Charlie had been lying low. She tried to avoid her mother every chance that she got. Her father had relented and finally put his foot down with Mama, telling her that Charlie could work the homestead with him and do her lessons on the go. Though she didn’t particularly like the brutal hard work of the homestead, Charlie was grateful to the point of crying real tears when Daddy had told her that he would allow her to come with him instead of dealing with her mother all day, every day. She was still a little bit sore from the strapping that she’d gotten on the night that she’d broken her grounding, and she didn’t want to risk rubbing her mother the wrong way. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> It had mostly been a quiet seven days. She and Daddy didn’t talk all that much when they were doing their chores, and she found that if she didn’t bring it up, he mostly let her go without doing the lessons at all. It wasn’t that Charlie minded school; what she minded was the way that her mother was constantly on her case and always seemingly looking for reasons to be angry with her. The truth was that she was feeling pretty intimidated, especially after she’d snuck out of the house on Saturday. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> The nightmare that night had been terrible. It was rare that she woke up screaming in fear from a dream. In fact, Charlie thought the last time it had happened was when she was twelve years old. This time, a combination of the alcohol and the punishment had left her weakened, and she’d awakened feeling as though somebody was standing on her chest and strangling her. Daddy had stayed with her all night, rocking her until she fell back to sleep, comforting her and reassuring her that in spite of what she’d done, she was still loved. She’d needed it, and it still hurt her to think that her mother hadn’t been there when she’d needed her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Mama had always scared Charlie a little bit. Even when she was little, she’d felt very much as though her mother didn’t particularly like her, and more than that, she was sure that her mother didn’t love her. It had hurt then, but after last Saturday’s punishment, it was really sinking in for Charlie that her mother’s feelings for her weren’t ideal. She’d overheard fights between her parents that left her feeling vulnerable, confused, guilty and ashamed. She’d asked for some things that she’d wanted, and to hear her parents discuss how they couldn’t afford it, and her mother saying that she felt like Charlie was selfish and a brat... Well, those things had broken her heart, and she’d promised herself that she would ask for nothing else.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"> So that afternoon, when her family was at the store for supplies for the month and her father asked if she needed new shoes, Charlie had told him “no.” The soles of her sneakers were wearing thin, but she knew for one thing that her uncle Mal had paid for their supplies that month, and for another she understood that asking for even the things she needed now brought her shame. So although she needed the shoes, she figured she’d wait another month, and maybe in July they’d be better off financially.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> There was more on Charlie’s mind than just shoes, however. Now that they were home, she paced the floor of the large bathroom next to her bedroom, ignoring the sound of her sister outside, huffing that she couldn’t get into the bathroom. “There’s two more just like this bathroom! Why do you need this one?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “My towel’s in there!” Clarissa shouted through the door, a pout in her voice.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie sighed and went to the linen closet in the bathroom and pulled out her younger sister’s personal towel, then went to the door and held it out. “Go down the hall. I’m busy in here. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> For a moment Clarissa looked as though she was about to ask what Charlie was doing, and she gave her little sister a warning look. For a moment the ten year-old stood there with her mouth open, then she turned on her heels and stomped off down the hall to the other bathroom. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and closed and locked the door again, confident that even her evil mother wouldn’t have a fit about her locking the bathroom door. She hadn’t forgotten the consequences of locking her bedroom door, but she doubted that her mother would take the door off the bathroom!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Her period was two months late. It was something that had been on Charlie’s mind for the past two weeks. She had Greg had given in and had sex twice, and she had even made a note of the dates in her diary. Because she was pretty sure that her mother hadn’t been snooping in her diary, Charlie was confident that her parents didn’t know that she’d been sexually active, or that she thought she might be pregnant. That morning, at the store, she had swiped a pregnancy test. She’d been about to try to take it in the store’s bathroom when somebody came in, and she’d panicked, putting the cartridge into her pocket so that she could take it later on at home instead. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Now it was time, and Charlie was so scared that she thought she was going to wet her pants. She read the instructions for the fourth time, then finally pulled out the little white stick that would tell her whether or not her life was over. Closing her eyes, she tugged down her jeans and her panties, sure that they were fitting tighter than they had before, and then squatted over the stick. Suddenly her bladder felt tight, and for a moment she thought that she wasn’t going to be able to do this. Then, before she could blink, she had finished, and she capped the tip of the test and then put it down on the sink, closing the lid of the toilet and tugging up her panties and jeans before sitting down on the lid of the toilet to wait. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> While she waited, Charlie folded her hands and bowed her head, offering up a short, silent prayer that she wasn’t pregnant. She didn’t know what her parents would do if they found out that she had been having sex, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about Greg. She liked him, and she thought that he was fun, but they had only been intimate twice and she hadn’t planned on spending the rest of her life with anybody at this point in her life. She was young, and she was scared. Worse, Charlie didn’t feel like she could talk to her mother, the only person in the world who was equipped to help her to get through this, or so she thought.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> By the time the three minutes had passed, Charlie was in tears, and almost too afraid to glance at the test. When she finally did, her breath caught in her throat, and her hands scrabbled for the instructions again. “Two lines means not pregnant, right?” she murmured, a sort of quiet prayer that she wasn’t pregnant. But when she confirmed what she dreaded, Charlie closed her eyes, then pulled out the second cartridge and forced herself to pee again. Three minutes later, she had two that said the same thing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Too scared to think about what she was doing, Charlie tossed both tests and the instructions into the trash, then left the bathroom on shaking feet. Not thinking, she went straight into her bedroom and reached under her mattress for her diary, so that she could do the thing that she always did when she was scared and upset; write. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> About an hour later, Charlie heard someone coming up the stairs. If she judged correctly, it was her mother. She thought nothing of it, just pulled her knees closer up to herself and continued to write in her diary. She’d already filled five pages with her worries over the pregnancy and how she was going to tell her parents. Her heart was no longer beating too hard, but was instead filled with a deep sense of sadness because she knew that her parents were going to be disappointed in her. The fear was gone, and she didn’t even dread telling them. What worried her most now was the look that she’d see on her father’s face when he found out that his daughter had been sexually active, and that she was pregnant. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie was still lost in thought when she finally registered that her mother was standing in her doorway, surrounded by the empty frame, her arms crossed over her chest, an unreadable expression on her face. Charlie started, slapping her diary shut and clutching it to her chest as she looked up at her mother, her cheeks growing hot as she watched the woman who had given birth to her and who was supposed to love her more than anything on earth. “Hey,” she said when it was clear that her mother wasn’t going to break her silence. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Do you have something you want to tell me?” Mama asked, raising her eyebrows. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> For a moment Charlie was sure that her heart had stopped beating. She could feel the blood draining out of her face as her heart began to race, her hands shaking so hard that she had to clutch the diary closer to her chest for support. Nervous, she clicked the pen, biting down on her lower lip, then finally giving a little shake of her head. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Are you sure?” Then Mama held up one of the tests in her right hand, raising her eyebrows even further, as though they could somehow join the red hair on top of her head and merge. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Heart pounding in her chest, Charlie slowly climbed off her bed, still holding the diary tightly to her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the tests in her mother’s hand, and she swallowed hard, struggling with all of the emotions that were going through her. She had thought that she’d conquered her fear, but now, with her mother standing right there, Charlie wasn’t sure at all that she’d managed to get over her feelings. Finally her eyes rose to her mother’s steely blue gaze and she shook her head slightly from side to side. “No Ma’am.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Mama took a step into the bedroom, and Charlie instinctively stepped backward. She couldn’t get far before she bumped into the night stand. Flinching, Charlie stopped, holding tightly to the diary, trying hard to convince herself that she could hold her ground with her mother, though she was terrified. The look on Mama’s face was intense, a real anger brewing just below the surface of her pretty features. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Are these yours?” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Yes Ma’am,” Charlie replied. She didn’t know what to say! Panic gripped her gut so hard that she thought she was going to throw up, and for a moment she struggled to regain control over her stomach. She swallowed several times, not taking her eyes off of her mother’s face. She knew that she was in trouble now, and that hadn’t even entered her mind before. How could they punish her for something that she’d done months ago? But now she was sure that somehow her parents would find a way to make her life hell because she’d gotten herself pregnant, and there was a sinking feeling in Charlie’s gut.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “What have you got to say for yourself?” Now Mama was raising her voice, stepping closer again. Charlie had nowhere else to go, and she felt backed into a corner as her mother came so close that she could smell her breath, the clean scent of the toothpaste that they made at home to save even more money.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> A thousand responses ran through Charlotte’s head, but none of them felt right. After a moment, she just gave a little shake of her head, dark hair spilling into her face. “Nothing,” she she said. Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before repeating, more boldly, “Nothing.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “There you go again!” Mama said, raising her voice so that Charlie had to really work hard not to cringe back from her. Instead, she stolidly held her ground. “Do you ever think of anybody other than yourself? Of all the selfish, STUPID things that you could have done, you had to go an’ get yourself pregnant, didn’t you? It ain’t like we’re havin’ a hard enough time supportin’ just you an’ Rissa an’ all the things you’re always askin’ for! Now we’re gonna have another mouth to feed, an’ somebody else to buy or make clothes for all the time!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie had to fight back tears. The more her mother yelled, the more frightened she got, and the more frightened she became, the more that Charlie wanted to lash back at her mother. But she suppressed her feelings even as Mama attacked her. It took her a few seconds to get herself composed enough to say boldly, “No, Ma’am.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “So, what? Are you thinkin’ that you’re gonna be havin’ an abortion?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “No Ma’am.” Charlie’s only defense against what her mother was saying was to be as respectful as she could in her responses, trying her hardest not to do anything to make Mama more angry with her. Inside, she was terrified, and angry that her mother was shouting at her the way that she was. She was fighting tears with everything that she had within her, her body nearly vibrating with suppressed anger and fear. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> As scared as Charlie was, however, nothing could have prepared her to feel the sting of her mother’s slap as Mama’s hand tore across her left cheek so hard that Charlie’s head snapped back. For a moment, she nearly dropped her diary to put her hand up to feel the heat on her face, but instead, she just held it closer and sniffed hard, fighting the tears as she turned her head back to stare at her mother, whose eyes were narrowed at her angrily. “Is that all you can say to me? Yes Ma’am? No Ma’am?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “No Ma’am,” Charlie said. Her brow creased a little bit with worry as she struggled to figure out what Mama could possibly want. She was still standing too close, and Charlie’s only support was the book to which she clung with all of her might. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> The second slap brought the tears. Charlie’s eyes filled, but still she didn’t cry out, or drop her book. This time, she simply dropped her head, letting the tears spill down her cheeks. What was she supposed to say? “I’m sorry, Mama,” Charlie tried, her voice more timid this time. She felt timid, frightened, and more than anything, she was starting to wonder if her parents were going to kick her out of the house now. The lump in her throat was huge, and she almost couldn’t breathe. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Bullshit,” Mama said, but she took a step back, and finally Charlie felt as though she might survive this. “You ain’t sorry for nothin’ you done to this family. You’re just a selfish little whore who wasn’t thinkin’ ‘bout nobody but herself when you got yourself knocked up like some back alley prostitute!” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to!?” Daddy’s voice raged from the doorway. Then everything happened so fast that Charlie couldn’t process all of it. Her father pulled her mother away from her, laying a hard swat to Mama’s backside, then pointing at the door. “GET OUT!” he raged, then surprised Charlie by literally pushing her mother out the door. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie didn’t look up, but she could feel her father’s eyes on her as she stood, trembling, the diary still glued to her chest. Her heart was beating so hard that she thought it would burst forth from her chest, and she was sure that he had to be able to hear it thundering the way that she could hear it in her ears. After Mama’s reaction, she was certain that Daddy was angry with her too. She couldn’t meet his eyes. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “My office,” Daddy snapped. “Now. I don’t wanna hear a word outta you until I come down there. You do as you’re told, understand me?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie gave a timid nod of her head, choking on the “Yes Sir” that she tried to squeak out, but now she was afraid that he was going to be angry with her for saying it too. She skirted around him, then walked as calmly as she could down the stairs and into the office. She left the door open as she went to the couch that he kept in there and curled up on it, leaning against the arm and curling her knees up to her chest, the diary still held close against her chest, her right thumb rubbing over the surface of the pen that she still held. She was scared to death, the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her cheek stung like fire, but she still didn’t move to try to rub away the burn. Instead, she lowered her head a little bit, just letting herself cry silently. She didn’t sob; she couldn’t quite work up the energy to get that far. Instead, she just sat there, holding herself, while she listened to her father shouting at her mother in the kitchen.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “What the hell is the matter with you, Ruby?” Daddy’s voice shouted. Charlie almost got up to close the door, since she didn’t want to be privy to another argument between her parents. It seemed that they were always fighting about her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> There was a clattering sound, then Mama’s shrieked, “Your daughter’s pregnant, that’s what’s the matter with me!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Last time I checked, she was your daughter too. An’ I ain’t the one got her that way, so you can stop shoutin’ at me. Calm it down, Ruby. I don’t care what she did, you don’t ever touch her that way again. She’s a child. OUR child. I don’t care if she’s done killed somebody, you don’t slap her like she’s nobody to you. You ever stop to think about what she’s feelin’?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Why the hell should I?” Mama cried. “Was she thinkin’ about how much a baby was gonna cost us when she went out sleepin’ around an’ gettin’ herself pregnant? Was she thinkin’ about who’s gonna support this baby? About who’s gonna have to work harder to take care of another child? You think she don’t expect us to be doin’ the work for her? I didn’t want another child after we had Charlie! We just got lucky with Rissa is all!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> There was dead silence in the kitchen for a long, long time, and Charlie found herself shaking as she sat on the couch, waiting to find out what was going to happen to her. Her father’s defense didn’t quite register with her. She was fully expecting that they were going to throw her out of the house, and that she was probably in really big trouble before they got to that point. Her heart was broken. She’d hardly had time to register that she was pregnant, and now... Now she was having to deal with her parents already. She wasn’t ready for this!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I don’t know you any more,” Daddy finally said. She heard a chair scrape across the linoleum floor. There was a series of unrecognizable sounds and then she heard his footsteps coming toward the office. A moment later the click of the door closing caused Charlie to raise her head a little bit. She still didn’t meet her father’s eyes, and deliberately dropped her head when she felt her father sitting down on the couch next to her. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Let me see that,” Daddy said, reaching out and taking her chin in his hand. Charlie whimpered, pulling back a little bit, scared that he was going to hurt her too. She turned her head away from him a little bit, making small sounds in her throat as her father inspected the mark on her cheek, then gently applied a bag of frozen peas to her cheek. “Try to stop it from bruisin’,” he said, then patted her on the knee. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Finally Charlotte let go of her book and put her hand up to hold the bag to her face. It took her a really long time of total silence before she slowly raised her eyes to look at her father. She was still crying silently, but when she saw his face, Charlie let out a small sob. “I’m sorry Daddy!” she cried. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “What’re you sorry for?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Cause I got knocked up!” Charlie cried. She knew that her father had to know by now what was going on. She hated the expression, but what else was it? It wasn’t like she loved Greg, was it? At least she didn’t think that she did. She didn’t know what love meant, and she was too young to really think about anything permanent in her life. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Mama hates me,” she whispered after a long moment. “An’ you’re mad at me an’ I don’t know what to do!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I ain’t mad, baby girl,” Daddy said, rubbing her leg gently with his hand. She still couldn’t look up at him. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else at all. He didn’t tell her that her mother didn’t hate her, and to Charlie, that spoke volumes. Everybody knew it now. She was sure even Rissa had heard, and her sister had a big mouth. Anybody in the family with Facebook would know by sundown that she was pregnant, she was sure.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Needing to breath the silence, Charlie sniffled a little bit, then glanced up at her father. “Disappointed in me,” she corrected herself. It was what he always said when she was in trouble. She sniffled again and dipped her head, keeping her hand on the ice pack to keep the bruise from forming on her cheek. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “No,” Daddy said after a long pause. “Not disappointed. I’m sad for you, baby girl. Everythin’s about to change. You’ve got a new responsibility now. You can’t be a kid no more.” There was a brief pause while he brushed her hair behind her ear, and Charlie finally met his eyes again. “But you’ll always be my baby girl. Even when you’ve got a baby of your own.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> What Charlie wanted more than anything in the world was for everything to be alright. Her mother had made it pretty clear to her that she wasn’t wanted, and now her father was... confusing her. Charlie moved slightly, shifting tentatively toward her father. When he didn’t move away from her, she slowly climbed into his lap, still holding tight to her diary as though she was holding onto a security blanket. She leaned her head against Daddy’s shoulder and then took a deep breath. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> That was it. Charlie was suddenly sobbing for all she was worth. “I’m so scared, Daddy!” she cried, letting the bag of ruined peas drop into her lap. She used the hand that had been holding it to reach for her father, holding onto him so tightly that it would have taken two grown men to pry her off of him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I know baby girl,” Daddy told her, smoothing her hair back and kissing the top of her head gently. It only made Charlie feel worse in a way that she couldn’t explain, and she held tighter to him. “You should be scared,” he added. “This is a big deal. I was scared outta my mind when Mama was pregnant with you. Thought I’d be the worst father in the world. Was just about outta my mind by the time you were born. But I don’t think I’m doin’ too bad, do you?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie sniffled, then shook her head a little bit. “No Sir,” she whispered. “You’re the best dad ever. And... And I love you,” she said cautiously. If he didn’t say it back, she knew that she’d be crushed. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> But Daddy held her tighter, then kissed her head again. “I love you too, baby girl. An’ I’ll love my grandbaby too. You got a lot of reasons to be scared, but you got your family behind you too.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Mama thinks I’m a--”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “You put that right outta your mind. You ain’t what she said. Mama’s just... Bein’ temperamental. Maybe it’s the menopause or somethin’. I dunno, but she ain’t gonna be treatin’ you like that no more. I won’t have it in my house, baby girl.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Sorry, Daddy.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Baby, what are you sorry for? You done nothin’ wrong.” He cleared his throat, then amended, “You done nothin’ wrong today. I walked into that room, you weren’t even defendin’ yourself while your mama slapped your face like you weren’t nothin’ to her.” Scared, Charlie turned her face against her father, and he went quiet, simply shushing her as she cried against him. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie was exhausted, but she didn’t want to let go of her father. She rubbed at her eyes, then sighed. “It hurts,” she whispered to him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I bet it does,” Daddy said. He shifted slightly beneath her, and Charlie was about to push out of his lap when he stood up with her in his arms. “I’m gonna take you upstairs an’ put you to bed for a bit so I can talk to Mama. I won’t let her come up an’ bother you, an’ I’ll send Rissa outside so she won’t come in an’ bug you either,” he told her as he carried her up the stairs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> It had been years since anybody had carried Charlie at all, and she held tightly to her father as he finally went into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed, then fluffed the pillows beneath her head. She still had her diary, and when he made to take it from her, Charlie clutched it tighter to her chest and shook her head. For right now, it was the one thing making her feel safe. “Please...”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Okay,” Daddy said with a nod of his head. He bent to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit. You stay here until I come an’ get you, okay?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Yes Sir.” Charlie wasn’t sure if she was being punished or protected, but she didn’t argue at all, then she flushed. “Daddy?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Yes, baby?” her father answered from the door.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Am I gonna get... Am I gonna be punished for... For bein’... For gettin’... You know?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie raised her head a little bit to see her father shake his head. “No. This ain’t somethin’ that a spankin’ can fix, Charlie. Only two things can fix this, an’ one of those is out of the question. Understand me?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “What’s the other one?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “Havin’ a baby.” Daddy smiled at her, and stood a moment later before he was gone.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Charlie turned her head into her pillow, giving a little sob. It was only a moment or two before she had cried herself into an exhausted sleep.</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-31964082030297828442011-07-04T21:55:00.000-07:002011-07-04T21:56:35.524-07:00Nery Legacy (2): Playing Favorites<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
The day had been pleasant. The weather was growing warmer, and Ruby enjoyed working outside. The garden was her baby, and it saddened her that her husband, Ben, wound up doing most of the work that she wasn’t able to do because she was inside home schooling their daughters. He’d talked to her about him taking over their older daughter’s education, but she’d asked him to give her one more chance. She had no idea how Charlotte felt about them being indoors together all the time, but if she had, she would have put it out of her mind, anyway. Ben was right; they had to act more like a mother and daughter than like sisters who were constantly sniping at one another. Separating themselves from one another wasn’t going to resolve their differences. This was something that they were going to have to work through, and Ruby wasn’t going to learn patience if she didn’t practice it.<br />
<br />
Because today was Saturday, however, Charlie was out with her father doing the chores that she had been assigned as punishment after the last big fight on Thursday. It was also a way, she hoped, to stop Charlie from continually asking about why she couldn’t see her boyfriend, Greg. The punishment, therefore, served a double-purpose of reminding Charlie to watch her language and the way that she spoke to her parents while also separating her, however temporarily, from a boy that both parents felt was bad for her. Besides, Ruby was pretty sure that Charlie would be exhausted by the time that she was done making up for the chores that she hadn’t done during the week. She’d found three more assigned duties that hadn’t been done, but this time hadn’t passed the information on to Ben, since it was apparent that they’d been left before Charlie had been punished for not putting the horses away on the night of the last big storm.<br />
<br />
Supper had been cleared away, and Rissa was in the living room, curled up on the couch with one of the Harry Potter books. Ruby wasn’t sure about Charlie, who seemed to have gone upstairs to shower and then retreated to her own room. Ruby stood in the kitchen, finishing off the dishes, when her husband came in through the back door. She went to the laundry room door and watched as he pulled his boots off. “I’m thinkin’ about orderin’ some more chicks,” Ben said. “Maybe get us some roosters. Work on sellin’ more of them. Or the eggs. Get a better production goin’ so that we can make more money.” There was a brief hesitation, and then he said, “I heard from Raph this afternoon.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
Ruby cocked an eyebrow. She didn’t approve of her husband paying the child support to Raphael’s ex wife that he wasn’t paying himself, and it was a point that they argued frequently. Ben hadn’t talked to Raphael in two years, and as far as Ruby was concerned, there was good reason for it. She hated that ex-wife of her brother-in-law’s, but she also didn’t like the things that Raph had done himself. She swore that if Ben ever cheated on her like his younger brother had done with his wife, she’d castrate him right then and there, without hesitation or thought. <br />
<br />
“So you talked to Raphael....”<br />
<br />
“Yeah. He was sayin’ somethin’ about how he got a call from Maia, askin’ him if she could come an’ live with him. Said he thought she was a bit young to make that decision on her own, an’ that he was gonna talk to Mal an’ find out what can be done about her age an’ whether or not the courts will listen to him. He’s talkin’ to Mandy too. She’s cooperatin’, which has him real nervous. He thinks she’s up to somethin’, but he’s gonna try to get Maia livin’ with him.”<br />
<br />
Malcolm was their other brother (along with Seth) and he was a good divorce lawyer. Ruby had no doubt that if Raph needed help, he’d get that help from Mal, but it still worried her, thinking about what they were proposing. She didn’t much care for either of the two brothers who had just been mentioned, but she still cared about their well-being, and more than that, about Maia. “Who gets to pay the child support then?” Ruby cocked an eyebrow.<br />
<br />
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “I imagine Mandy would be payin’ the child support then, or that Raph would be supporting his daughter.” <br />
<br />
But Ben wasn’t meeting her eyes, and Ruby took a step forward toward her husband, forcing herself into his space. He cleared his throat and glanced at her, then looked away again, putting a hand on the washer. “He’s wantin’ to maybe move here.” Ben cleared his throat, then looked at her again. “We’ve got the room for both of ‘em. It’s how Granddad wanted this place, all of us livin’ here kind of like a legacy of his or somethin’. All four of us brothers. I mean, it’s just Raph an’ Maia.”<br />
<br />
“For now,” Ruby said, clearly understanding what her husband wasn’t saying. She sighed and shook her head. “We have the room,” she agreed. “For all of you four, an’ all the kids besides,” she added hastily. “But that don’t mean that we can afford to keep ‘em. He ain’t been payin’ his child support, an’ now you’re gonna have him livin’ here an’ livin’ off us still?”<br />
<br />
“I was... I was thinkin’ that maybe with his help we could expand,” Ben explained. He had a sheepish expression on his face, and Ruby groaned inwardly. “You know, get us some more cows, maybe start sellin’ more livestock. An’ he’s workin, Ruby. It ain’t like he don’t have a job. You’re makin’ somethin’ of this that don’t need to be. He needs somewhere for Maia an’ that’s a one bedroom apartment he’s got.”<br />
<br />
“Then he can find himself another rental, Ben. You know how I feel about your brothers. They’ve made a bunch of bad choices an’ you’re always the one who’s doin’ the cleanup. It ain’t fair to the family you got now to have them always showin’ up with their hands out.”<br />
<br />
Ben went pale, then shook his head. “Well, the thing ‘bout that, Ruby... He didn’t really ask me. I kinda... I kinda mentioned it to him. Pointed out that it was what Granddad wanted, an’ that it would be nice to have the whole family around again. That I missed him, an’ would like to know how Maia’s doin’.”<br />
<br />
“Without mentioning it to me,” Ruby said dryly. “You talked to him about this without sayin’ a word to me about it, an’ now he’s gonna be comin’ to live here?”<br />
<br />
“Well... Not exactly,” Ben said. It was obvious that he was getting nervous now. “I told him that you an’ I would talk about it. But I’m the head of this household, Ruby, an’ I’m tellin’ you that I’m invitin’ my brother to come stay here until he can get on his feet with his daughter. He’s gonna need the support, an’ she might too. An’ I gotta be honest with you, if he’s payin’ us rent -- and he offered! -- that’s money that we need, Ruby. I ain’t stupid about these things.”<br />
<br />
“Just stupid enough to get us into this financial crisis in the first place,” Ruby said, crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she walked out of the laundry/mud room. <br />
<br />
“Now wait one minute here!” Ben said. “You know why I did this. You know I moved out here so that we could save the farm an’ so that it would be a better life for our kids. Things are gettin’ better, Ruby. I won’t have you talkin’ like that. I done told you, that’s where Charlie gets her attitude from.”<br />
<br />
“No,” Ruby said, turning around and narrowing her eyes at Ben. “She gets her attitude all on her own. She ain’t happy here. You an’ Rissa are doin’ fine, but me an’ Charlie? We’ve got different ideas about the kind of life we wanna have. I love workin’ out there in the garden. I love livin’ here. But I hate bein’ poor. I hate it when one of my girls asks me for somethin’ I can’t give ‘em. I hate it when I have to sew up the holes in Rissa’s skirts because we can’t afford to get her new ones. I hate it when I’m worryin’ that she’s gonna grow out of somethin’ because we can’t afford to replace it. I hate sewin’, but that’s what I’ve been havin’ to do. This was your choice, Ben. An’ just like all the others, we weren’t involved in it at all.”<br />
<br />
“Fine!” Ben snapped. She could hear the frustration sparking in his voice as he turned around. The shuffling noises from the laundry room indicated that he was shuffling his shoes back on, and then the back door slammed. <br />
<br />
Ruby winced. She hated it when her husband stormed out of the house, angry about something that she’d said. They hadn’t fought about this since the second month that they’d lived here and the washer had gone out, leaving Ruby to wash the clothes by hand. Eventually Mal had given them his old appliances, so they weren’t without after that, but it was still frustrating for her to feel as though she was denying the children things that they wanted and needed. <br />
<br />
For a long moment Ruby debated going after her husband, but she knew that would only push the fight further, and she’d wind up getting sent to their room until later on, when he was calm enough to “deal with her.” Although she hated being spanked, she accepted the domestic discipline for the most part. Her father had approved of it when she’d first called him in outrage, and since then, she’d learned that it was better to simply trust Ben to do what he felt he needed to do, and for her to otherwise move on with things once it was over and done with. She would prefer that he didn’t spank her, but what usually came afterward was very nice. Sometimes it felt as though she was pushing her husband, and this was one of those times. If he wanted to move Raphael in with them, why not? Especially if her brother-in-law could help to support the family, why shouldn’t she allow for him to come and stay with them? She cared about the niece that she hadn’t seen since she was barely more than a toddler, and she was worried about what would happen now if they turned Raph out. <br />
<br />
So Ruby would talk to Ben when he came back in, and they would discuss what it meant to have his brother and their niece staying with them. She knew that it was in his nature to have changed his mind by the time that he got home, based on what she’d said. He did usually take her thoughts into consideration and now, as she went back to start drying the dishes so that she could put them away, she felt guilty enough that tears came to her eyes.<br />
<br />
“Mama?” <br />
<br />
Rissa’s voice reminded Ruby that she had things to think about other than her own guilt and self pity, and she wiped at her eyes and turned to her ten year-old daughter. “What is it baby?” she asked, her throat thick.<br />
<br />
“You and Daddy were fightin’ again,” the little girl told her mother.<br />
<br />
Ruby felt the lump in her throat grow larger, and she sighed, then went to her daughter and put her arm around her shoulder giving her a firm hug. “It’s alright,” she told her daughter, rubbing her shoulder a little bit. “Sometimes Mama’s an’ Daddy’s fight. But they always make up. Things are gonna be fine.”<br />
<br />
“Is Daddy gonna divorce you like Uncle Mal is divorcin’ Aunt Carrie?” <br />
<br />
Ruby frowned. Not only was she unaware that Malcom was going through a divorce, but she couldn’t think of where her ten year-old could have possibly gotten ahold of that information. “How do you know about that?”<br />
<br />
Rissa shrugged. “Facebook. He was mad an’ he said somethin’ about it. Is Daddy gonna divorce you, Mama?”<br />
<br />
With a sigh, Ruby shook her head. “Daddy an’ I don’t believe in divorce, Rissa. An’ no, he ain’t gonna divorce me. We just had a little fight, that’s all. I was angry because he did somethin’ without askin’ me first, an’ he’s angry cause I called him on it. Everythin’s gonna be okay.” <br />
<br />
The clock was telling her that it was nearly bedtime, and Ruby sighed. They had church in the morning, which meant an early bedtime on Saturday night. “Come on,” she told Rissa. “Let’s get you ready for bed. You need to have a bath before tomorrow mornin’. I don’t want you or Daddy stinkin’ out the whole church.” She grinned down at her daughter and gave her another squeeze, then propelled her toward the stairs. “You want some help, or you think you can get it covered on your own?”<br />
<br />
“I got it!” Rissa called out as she climbed the steps.<br />
<br />
Alone, Ruby went back into the kitchen and poured herself a tall glass of water from the sink, then went to sit down at the table. There had been a time that whole family would have been drinking sweet tea, but they were out of money now. She suspected that Ben had an account she didn’t know about, and she was only grateful that the house and their truck were both owned outright and that Charlie hadn’t started asking for a car yet. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it. And now potentially two more mouths to feed. The very thought made Ruby groan, but she had to remind herself that Raph had a good job in construction and that he’d probably continue working. It would mean that they would still be working the homestead, but... Well, if he was paying rent and contributing, it might ease things up quite a bit, wouldn’t it? But how much could they make him responsible for their kids?<br />
<br />
The very thought made Ruby bristle a little bit. They’d been paying to support his children for two years. It was the least that he could do to help to meet some of the needs and wants of their children. <br />
<br />
Ruby sighed and shook her head, then crossed her legs under the table. She had a manuscript sitting on her desk in the bedroom, just waiting for her to get the courage to find a publisher. That could make some difference. Just a small advance would mean a lot to her family. And if the book succeeded? They’d have it made. Wouldn’t they? She’d been holding back out of fear, not listening to Ben when he tried to push her to get her book published. Now she was thinking that she was going to have to make a push for it, or maybe get a “real” job herself. She was qualified to teach. She’d talk to Ben about that, too, though she suspected she wouldn’t get the happiest of receptions to the proposition. He was very traditional and preferred her to be at home with the girls. But something had to give. Maybe she could... Start selling baked goods when they sold their vegetables and their eggs, or even set up a farm stand on the property and work that daily. Increase the garden size... She was sure that it was possible. She’d have to look into what it would take to make things work. Ruby Nery was tired of being poor!<br />
<br />
There was always work to do, and Ruby stood up and went into the living room, beginning to straighten up. She put Rissa’s book back on the shelf, then she turned off the television, reminding herself that she had to talk to Ben about cutting the cable off so that they had a bit more money to save for things that were more important. The Internet too, for that matter, given the fact that Rissa was finding out things about her uncles that even Ruby didn’t know. It made her feel uncomfortable, and it was worse that they had these luxuries that they couldn’t afford while she was telling the girls “no” to needed clothes and new pets.<br />
<br />
When the water stopped running upstairs, Ruby looked up and gave another sigh, satisfied that Rissa was doing what she’d asked. She went to the front door to check for the truck, her heart sinking when she saw that wherever he’d gone, Ben had clearly taken it with him. She just hoped that he hadn’t gone far, and that he wasn’t spending too much money. It was bad enough that he was spending the gas money to go wherever he’d chosen this time around. Thankfully she’d asked him to keep their cell phone on. There was only one in the family and it belonged to Ben. Ruby was almost always at home, and they’d kept the home phone for times like this, when he was out and she needed to get in touch with him. And if she knew her husband, he wouldn’t be gone for too long.<br />
<br />
Ruby had been sitting on the couch with a favorite romance novel for about twenty minutes when Rissa came bounding down the stairs in her pajamas. “Hey Mama!” she said, sitting down next to Ruby and curling up at her side. Ruby put her arm around her daughter and gave her a tight squeeze and a kiss on her head. “I like livin’ here,” Rissa said, suddenly serious.<br />
<br />
The announcement wasn’t what she’d expected, and Ruby sighed, then closed her eyes. “I know you do, baby,” she told her younger daughter. “But sometimes it’s not so good for Charlie, an’ she’s havin’ a tough time, an’ givin’ me an Daddy a tough time about it.” <br />
<br />
Thinking of Charlie made Ruby frown, and she glanced toward the stairs. “Has she had her shower yet?” she asked Rissa. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Charlie since supper, and now she was wondering whether or not there was something wrong. It wouldn’t be unusual for Charlie to throw one of her temper tantrums and head up to her room as a way of punishing her parents for not giving her what she wanted. After all, Charlie was grounded this weekend and specifically forbidden from seeing her boyfriend, Greg. She sighed and shook her head, reminding herself that Charlotte would get over it and that everything would be fine. They’d get through this the way that they’d gotten through everything else. <br />
<br />
“Charlie’s just bein’ stupid,” Rissa said. The two girls got along most of the time. They were friendly with one another and they usually took care of one another, but of the two girls, Rissa was the one who wasn’t afraid to tell it how she saw it. “If she’d just do the stuff Daddy says to, I bet she’d be happy. She’s mostly upset cause she thinks you guys don’t love her no more.”<br />
<br />
Out of the mouths of babes. Ruby hugged her daughter tighter to her, rubbing her shoulder briskly. “We both love both of you very much. Where would Charlie get the idea that we don’t love her any more?”<br />
<br />
Rissa shrugged her thin, childish shoulders. “I dunno. Prolly cause you an’ Daddy are always fightin’ about her. Cause she heard you sayin’ that she’s too much trouble when you’re at home with her all day, an’ him sayin’ that you gotta get used to it cause she’s your daughter.” <br />
<br />
The child’s cheeks grew red, and Ruby sighed. She’d never figure out how her children managed to hear her fights with Ben, and it was hard for her to think of how much damage those arguments could do to their girls. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say to Clarissa. “Baby, Daddy an’ I love you girls both as much as one another, just different. Sometimes we don’t always get along with the people we love, an’ that’s the way with me an’ Charlie. I love her to death, but sometimes I grate on her, an’ sometimes she grates on me. That’s just the way things are, Rissa. An’ chances are that when you become a teenager, you’re gonna have similar feelin’s to what she’s havin’ right now too. That’s just how it is.”<br />
<br />
“She thinks I’m your favorite,” Rissa pressed. “Am I?”<br />
<br />
“It’s not like that,” Ruby insisted. “Just cause I get along with you better doesn’t mean that I love you any more’n I do her. I love you both. You’re both my girls an’ you’re both very special to me.” <br />
<br />
“You and Daddy,” Rissa insisted. “She told me. She said that she thinks Daddy loves me better’n her cause... I dunno why, really. But she thinks that. An’ she said she’s jealous of me too.”<br />
<br />
Ruby frowned. That was a lot for Rissa to be carrying on her shoulders. She shifted, pulling her younger daughter into her lap and allowing the ten year-old to put her head down on her shoulder. She sighed, her chest heaving beneath her daughter, and she shook her head again. “Rissa... I think that maybe Charlie’s choosin’ to be hurt. Sometimes we do that when we get upset about somethin’ that we can’t understand. We make the choice to hurt instead of lettin’ things go. But tomorrow, after church, I think me an’ Daddy’ll have a good long talk with Charlie an’ make sure she knows just how much we love her. An’ maybe I can find a bit of money in the budget for us to get some shakes too. What do you think?” There was no money for the shakes, but she’d try to make it work. Carve it out of their small food budget or something. They needed some entertainment, and living out here in the middle of nowhere, it wasn’t as though they could just hang out with... <br />
<br />
Friends. Ruby sighed, realizing now what was really getting Charlie down. She vowed that she’d talk to Ben about letting Charlie spend some more time with her friends in town. It was important, and she was ignorant if she tried to convince herself otherwise. “It’s about bedtime, don’t you think?” Ruby asked Clarissa. She was staring to worry about Ben, but she put it out of her mind. Normally, if he went out, he’d be back in time to tuck his daughters into bed. But here it was, nine o’clock, and he wasn’t home. She glanced at the front door, sighed again, then shifted Rissa up and out of her lap. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed. Daddy’ll be home soon to tuck you in.”<br />
<br />
“What if Daddy doesn’t come back?” Rissa asked, asking the questions that it seemed were always on a young girl’s mind.<br />
<br />
“He’ll come back,” Ruby promised. “He always does.” She hugged her daughter again, then stood up and guided her toward the stairs so that she could get her put to bed.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Twenty minutes and two chapters of Rissa’s favorite story later, Ruby closed her younger daughter’s bedroom door behind her. Rissa was already asleep, and Ruby wanted to check on Charlotte and make sure that she got a shower before she went to bed, since they had church in the morning. She rapped on the door, but when there was no response from within, Ruby tried the knob. The door was locked, and the red haired woman sighed, shaking her head. It was a simple matter to simply pop the lock open with an allen key or something similar in size and shape, but it was a hassle. “Charlotte, open this door up right now! If I have to unlock it, I’m taking the door down!”<br />
<br />
There was no sound from within, and for a moment Ruby just hoped that she’d find her daughter asleep instead of defiant. She sighed and headed for her bedroom, then dug around in the night stand drawer until she came up with the small allen key, then headed back to her daughter’s room. She popped the key into the lock, then heard the click that said it was open. She pushed the door and then stepped into the room, only to find... That there was no Charlotte. <br />
<br />
The window was open, the curtains fluttering in the cool spring breeze of the evening. There was no note on the bed the way that Ruby would have imagined it from stories and from movies, just the window open. Going to it, Ruby looked down to see that there was a ladder propped up against the side of the house, presumably so that Charlie could get back in, assuming that she would be able to do so without being missed.<br />
<br />
With a shake of her head, Ruby closed the window to keep the cold out, then went down the stairs and out the back door. She was barefoot, and she didn’t want to be outside long, so she simply grabbed the ladder, shrank it down, and then carried it into the laundry room. She locked the back door, then went to the front to make sure that it was locked. When that was finished, Ruby went to sit down on the couch in the living room to watch a television show. <br />
<br />
An hour passed, and then another half hour. Still there was no call from either Ben or Charlotte, nor had either of them appeared to have come home. Becoming nervous, Ruby finally went into the kitchen and picked up the land phone, dialing Ben’s cell phone number with shaking, achy fingers. “Ben!” she cried when he finally picked up. “Where are you?”<br />
<br />
“I went to see Raph,” Ben said wearily. “Mal’s here too. We called Seth, but Bridget ain’t feelin’ too good, so he didn’t wanna come over. What do you need?”<br />
<br />
Okay, so he was still upset with her. The tone of voice, and his words, were enough to tell Ruby what she needed to know about the status of their argument. But that could wait to be dealt with until later. For now, Ruby was looking at the fact the clock said it was going on eleven, which was Charlotte’s curfew on a regular weekend, and she was out when she was grounded. Furthermore, Ruby had no idea where her daughter was. “Charlotte’s missing. I went to ask her to please take a shower for church in the morning and she wasn’t in her room. Looks like she went out the window. No note. I got no idea where she’s gone, Ben. I need you home.”<br />
<br />
“Shit, church in the morning!” Ben said loudly, and Ruby had to assume that he was reminding his brothers. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes,” he said into the phone.<br />
<br />
Ruby nodded, though she knew that he couldn’t see her. “Thank you honey. I appreciate you comin’ home.”<br />
<br />
“You know who you can call to see if they’ve found her?”<br />
<br />
“No, who?” Ruby asked her husband.<br />
<br />
“I dunno, I was askin’ you. Lemme get off this thing so I don’t go over our minutes, an’ I’ll be home in twenty. I’m sure she’ll come home, but if she gets there before I do, you have her go an’ wait for me in my office, understand, Ruby? Don’t you dare try to handle this yourself. Not with the way you two been fightin’.”<br />
<br />
But Ruby had no intention of letting her husband handle this. She was fuming, and already on her way into the laundry room to find her husband’s tool kit so that she could start working on taking the door off of Charlotte’s bedroom.<br />
<br />
By the time that the front door opened and closed, Ruby had put the door out in the garage and the tools were put away. She poked her head out of the kitchen, where she’d just been making coffee. Though she was already sure from the volume of the door shutting that it was Ben, she’d wanted to make sure. Disappointment crept over her, and she shook her head. “What are you thinking?” she asked as she poured her husband a cup of coffee and then put it down on the table before pouring one for herself.<br />
<br />
“I think she went out with Greg after we both told her that she wasn’t allowed to. An’ I’m thinkin’ that she’s gonna be gettin’ herself one good, sore, hot bottom right before church tomorrow, make sure she can sit down on that pew an’ remember why she’s supposed to be doin’ what we tell her to.”<br />
<br />
Ruby flushed, because she knew what that felt like. It was a horrible thing to have to sit down when your backside was sore from a recent spanking. She shook her head and added fresh milk to her own coffee, then sat down at the table with her husband. “So what do we do now? Wait her out? Or should we call the police?”<br />
<br />
“I think it’s a bit early for the police,” Ben said. He took a sip of his coffee, then he paced away from her. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her the last couple of years, but I ain’t gonna have her defyin’ me this way, Ruby.” <br />
<br />
It was clear that their argument from earlier was forgotten, and Ruby wished that she could be relieved, but the truth was that it was her turn to be concerned about her husband’s attitude. “Charlie’s been hearin’ us fight. Rissa told me. It might be what made her do somethin’ like this. Rissa said Charlie’s feelin’ like she don’t belong here, an’ like we don’t want her. That’s a powerful feelin’, Ben.”<br />
<br />
“Well then maybe you should stop snipin’ at her, Ruby!” her husband shot back, clearly agitated. “You think she don’t know how you feel about her when you’re always snappin’ at her?” <br />
<br />
Ruby had been about to point out to her husband that Rissa had told her clearly that it was both of them, but she was so taken aback that for a moment she simply stared at him. “An’ how’s that, Benjamin Nery? How do I feel about our older daughter, since you know so much about everythin’?”<br />
<br />
“Well it couldn’t be much more obvious that you don’t like her much, Ruby!”<br />
<br />
“Ben... You been drinkin’, ain’t you?” Shocked, Ruby stared at her husband, and then shook her head. “I love you an’ both our girls more than my own life. If I had to make a choice between me an’ one of them -- either of them -- I’d choose them without blinkin’ an’ eye. It wouldn’t even be a matter of thinkin’ about it. So I’ll tell you how I feel about Charlie; I think she’s wonderful. I think she’s motivated, an’ smart, an’ that she’s goin’ places if she can get her head on straight an’ get used to the fact that we make the decisions an’ she’s just gonna have to live with that.”<br />
<br />
“Speakin’ of decision, Raph’s movin’ in with Maia, an’ Mal’s thinkin’ on comin’ with him, since he’s divorcin’ Carrie.”<br />
<br />
It took several slow, deep breaths before Ruby trusted herself to speak. “I figured that,” she said slowly. “Though I’m a bit disappointed that I had to hear about Mal an’ Carrie from our ten year-old. She found out on Facebook. How long have you known?”<br />
<br />
“Just since tonight,” Ben responded in a lower tone. For a long time he was silent, and Ruby cleared her throat, then sipped her coffee and set it back down on the counter. After a moment, Ben shrugged his shoulders. “You know I don’t get on Facebook or any of that stupid shit. An’ he does. Maybe our daughters shouldn’t be gettin’ on there though.”<br />
<br />
Ruby thought there were better times to be talking about ridding the house of the Internet, so she said nothing for a long moment. There was silence in the kitchen, and that put her on edge. It either meant that they were good now, or that things were going to blow up later. She cleared her throat again. “I think I should be the one to punish Charlie. You been drinkin’ -- an’ don’t try to deny it. You’re actin’ drunk -- an’ I was the one who found out she was missin’. Her door was locked. I already got it taken off her room. She wants to lock us out, she ain’t gonna have the door for a couple of weeks to remind her. An’ that way, she won’t be climbin’ out her window again, I’d imagine.” She sighed, then glanced up at Ben, watching as his face contorted. “I can handle it,” she said again. “You’re too mad right now anyway. I got it under control.”<br />
<br />
As though on cue, there was a firm knock at the front door. Ruby glanced at Ben again and shook her head. “I’ll get it. I’ll bet that’s gotta be Charlie right now, found out that she can’t use that ladder to get back in through the window that I shut. She’s gonna have a big surprise ain’t she?”<br />
<br />
Ruby pushed away from the counter and then walked to the front door. She unlatched it and then opened it, thankful at first that it was chained. There was a young man on the doorstep. “Ben, get the shotgun!” she shouted to her husband just as Charlie came into view next to him. “Scratch that!” she called out, then unchained the door and opened it to Charlie and the young man who was holding her up. “She drunk?” she asked, getting one whiff of her daughter and wrinkling her nose.<br />
<br />
“Yeah,” the man said. He didn’t make any move to come into the house. “You really got a shotgun?”<br />
<br />
“We really got a shotgun. But he’s not gonna go get it unless we think you’re dangerous,” Ruby replied, stepping back and nodding her head for the young man to bring her daughter into the house. “So you’re Greg?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah,” the boy said. Now that she was really looking at him, Ruby realized that he was far from grown, and probably not much older than Charlie was. Maybe seventeen, eighteen at the most. “Charlie called me from a pay phone and said I hadda come get her. I don’t know what was going on. There was a party tonight. She wanted to go, so I took her. I wasn’t going to stay, but... When I saw what they were doing, somebody had to stay to look after her.” He shrugged, and Ruby narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. <br />
<br />
“And that somebody was you.” <br />
<br />
“Who else was there?” Greg asked. Ruby had to admit that he had a point. <br />
<br />
“She shouldn’t be sneakin’ out of the house. None of this started before she met you,” she pointed out. “If you were doin’ such a good job of lookin’ out for her, then why’s she actin’ out this way?” Ruby said pointedly.<br />
<br />
“Well maybe it’s because she wasn’t sixteen before she met me,” Greg retorted. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with her comin’ out. She wanted to go to that party. It’s not my deal. Do I sound like I’m drunk to you? Get a fucking breathalyzer. I’m not drunk. She is. I think somebody slipped something into her drink.”<br />
<br />
That wouldn’t have happened if Charlie hadn’t snuck out in the first place. Ruby sighed and shook her head, then called out to Ben. “Ben! Take Charlie upstairs and get her into a cold shower to start workin’ on gettin’ her sobered up. She’s gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do an’ she’s in a whole world of hurt!”<br />
<br />
“Don’t be too hard on her,” Greg said as Ben took Charlie’s weight from him. He looked nervously at Ruby, then followed Charlie and Ben with his eyes. <br />
<br />
With a sigh, Ruby shook her head. “Well, let’s just see. She was grounded. Specifically told she couldn’t see you tonight. An’ she snuck out of the house. There’s that. Then there’s the fact that she didn’t tell us where she was goin’. No note, nothin’. Then to add to that, she’s been drinkin’. An’ it only makes it worse that she was with you. We don’t look too kindly on straight up defiance in this house, Greg. But thanks for the parenting tips. I’m sure they’ll be useful when you’re a father one day.”<br />
<br />
Ruby turned to head for the stairs, where she could wait for Charlie to finish up with her sobering shower. They were going to be having a long, long talk tonight, and she still planned on going to church in the morning, then deal with the extra chores that Charlie had earned herself. They were all going to be exhausted in the morning, but right now she was too upset to care. Deep down, she knew that she wasn’t really angry with her daughter, just deeply disappointed. The fights were what got her riled up. Right now she was sure that she would be the cooler head if it had to be either her or Ben. Ben had been drinking, too, and nobody thought clearly when they were drunk.<br />
<br />
“You can go,” Ruby said, turning at the bottom of the stairs and staring at Greg. “She’ll call you, if we decide she’s allowed. But don’t expect to hear from her for at least a week. She’ll be grounded for at least that long.” She watched as he finally went out the front door, and then she followed him to it, turning the latch and chaining it again. <br />
<br />
Finally Ruby sighed and started up the stairs again. She went into the bathroom, staring at Ben as he dumped Charlie under the cold water. Since the teen was already wet, Ruby figured that she’d climbed out before Ben was done with her. “Stay put!” he snapped at their daughter, and Ruby went in and put a hand on his shoulder. <br />
<br />
“I’ve got it from here,” Ruby told her husband. “You go on downstairs an’ have another cup of coffee. Or lay down in bed. I’ll talk to Charlie. We got church in the mornin’ an’ I’d rather not have the two of you goin’ in lookin’ like you been drinkin’ all night.”<br />
<br />
With that, Ruby stepped into Ben’s place, blocking the shower door so that Charlie couldn’t get back out for a moment. She watched her husband as he retreated, grumbling under his breath about how he wasn’t drunk. Ruby shook her head, then pulled back the shower door. “Come on out an’ get dried off,” she said to Charlie before she realized that her daughter was completely dressed. “Better yet, get those wet clothes off. I’ll get you a towel. Just leave ‘em there in the shower an’ I’ll take ‘em down an’ wash them tonight or tomorrow mornin’.”<br />
<br />
Ruby slipped out and went to grab a fresh bath sheet out of the linen closet, then brought it back to the bathroom and offered it to her trembling, naked daughter. Though Charlie’s eyes were a bit red-rimmed, they were clearer than they’d been before. “Come on,” Ruby said. “Let’s get you into your room an’ get you dressed, then we’re goin’ down into the office to talk. I’ll give you a few minutes to warm up, cause we’ll only be doin’ so much talkin’. You know you’re in trouble, kiddo.”<br />
<br />
Outside Charlie’s door, the girl paused for a moment, clearly hesitating. Then she turned and put her arms around Ruby, hugging her in the way that people who had been drinking sometimes did. “I’m sorry, Mama!” she said, and Ruby only shook her head. <br />
<br />
“Go get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes, an’ then we’ll figure out how we’re gonna be handlin’ this. You’re in a lot of trouble, Charlie. An’ we’re still goin’ to church in the mornin’. I don’t care how tired you are.”<br />
<br />
Charlie nodded, and Ruby waited until she’d gone into the bedroom before calling out. “Dad’s office!” When Charlie responded from within, Ruby slowly started to make her way down the stairs so that she could meet her daughter in the office. She wasn’t looking forward to this talk, because it was going to be a rough one.<br />
<br />
With a sigh, Ruby headed into the kitchen to see if Ben was still up. Sure enough, there he was, sipping another cup of coffee. “I’m gonna need your belt,” Ruby told her husband as she approached him slowly.<br />
<br />
“You sure you’re up for this?” Ben asked in response as he stood up and started to pull his belt off. <br />
<br />
Neither of them had ever used a belt on Charlie before, but it was as though they were communicating silently with one another. Charlie had never done anything this serious before, and if there was ever a situation that called for her to be on the receiving end of her father’s belt, this was it. She had snuck out of the house to meet a boy they had forbidden her from seeing, and then she had gotten drunk. <br />
<br />
“I’m sure,” Ruby said. “She’s grounded for the week. You work out what chores you want her doin’. Make ‘em hard. Make her think, Ben. An’ don’t use these chores to reward her with time with Daddy. I want her to struggle with them. I want her comin’ in exhausted when she’s done.” Ruby paused, then took a deep breath. “I told Greg she’d call him, but not sooner than next week. I ain’t gonna stop her from seein’ him, but I want her makin’ good choices, not this shit she’s been doin’,” Ruby added. <br />
<br />
When Ben had finished with his belt, Ruby took it from him and retreated to the office to wait for her daughter and to spend some time doing her own thinking. <br />
<br />
It was nearly half an hour before there was a knock on the office door, and Ruby stood up to open it for Charlie. Her daughter was pale, and her eyes were down. She was chewing on her lower lip and her hands were tapping at her thighs. Ruby sighed and shook her head, then pulled the door all the way open and stood back so that Charlie could come inside. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do,” she told her daughter. “An’ morning is gonna come awful early tomorrow. I think it’s probably best if we do the talkin’ with your pants an’ panties to your ankles an’ you bent on over the desk. What do you think?”<br />
<br />
Charlie didn’t look up at her, and Ruby just shook her head and reached for her daughter’s hand, tugging her into the room and pushing her toward the desk. She knew that this would be the sixteen year-old’s most severe punishment she’d ever received, and she was almost as nervous as she was sure Charlie was. The belt was sitting on the desk, and Ruby crossed to grab it. “Take your pajamas down, an’ your panties if you’re wearin’ ‘em,” she told her daughter. “Ain’t much to discuss here. I’m pretty sure you know what you did wrong, but there ain’t much you can say that I wanna hear right now. You’ll have your turn tomorrow.” Ruby figured that Charlie would probably be whining to Ben in the morning anyway about how unfair she’d been, and that would be a whole other story.<br />
<br />
The muffled sob from Charlie let Ruby know that she’d hit home, and the girl shuffled forward and slowly pushed her pajama bottoms down to her knees. Ruby put her hand on her daughter’s back and slowly pushed her down onto the desk. “You hold on now,” she said to the sixteen year-old. “I’m usin’ Daddy’s belt, an’ it’s gonna hurt like nothin’ you’ve felt before. You’re gonna stay right where you are an’ not start fightin’ me or it’s just gonna make this a lot worse. So you hold tight,” she warned Charlie. <br />
<br />
When Ruby was sure that her daughter had a good grip on the desk, she reached for her husband’s belt, doubling it over in her hand. She’d already thought about how many she planned on giving Charlie, and she’d decided that she would stop at four. That should be plenty to make enough of an impression, especially with Charlie sitting down for church in the morning, and even more so if Ben decided to follow up.<br />
<br />
With a deep breath, Ruby lined the belt up against Charlie’s bottom. The girl stiffened, her body going rigid against the desk. She made a small whimpering sound in her throat, and Ruby just shook her head. “If you didn’t want to get yourself punished, then you wouldn’t have snuck out of the house tonight,” she admonished her daughter. “An’ if you didn’t wanna get punished, then you wouldn’t have gone to a party. An’ if you didn’t wanna get punished, you wouldn’t have been drinkin’. An you wouldn’t have been seein’ Greg. Seems to me that’s four things. You’re gonna get one lick of this belt for each of those four things, an’ then I think Daddy wants to talk to you in the morning.”<br />
<br />
Charlie made another sound, a throaty cry of fear, and Ruby just shook her head. She pulled the belt back to shoulder height, then let it fly. She was in control, and she worried that since he’d been drinking, Ben wouldn’t have had the same control that she showed as the belt landed with a resounding crack that echoed in the chamber of the office, seeming to reverberate off the walls, the bookshelves and the furniture. The mark took on an immediate puffiness, and it was half a second before Charlie screamed, pushing up against Ruby’s hand. Ruby shook her head, then pushed her daughter back down. “No. I’m not done yet. That one was for sneakin’ out of the house. You knew that you were grounded an’ you knew that meant that you were supposed to be stickin’ to the house an’ the yard helpin’ Daddy with the chores. You weren’t allowed to go out. That’s what grounded means, Charlie. So you be thinkin’ on that while you’re sittin’ in church tomorrow on this bottom, which I’m assurin’ you, already looks pretty bad, an’ that’s just one. You got three more comin, baby.”<br />
<br />
Ruby wasn’t trying to be mean. She genuinely loved her daughter, and if somebody had told her that she was being cruel, or even just unkind, she would not only have been surprised, she would have scoffed. But the truth was that Ruby could be incredibly insensitive, and right now that was showing. She could feel the tension rippling in Charlie beneath her hand, but she chose to ignore it instead of offering the obviously needed reassurance. While Ben would have noticed these things, Ruby simply did not.<br />
<br />
“I want you to tell me what you did to get this one,” she told Charlie. “I told you one of ‘em. You snuck out when you were grounded, an’ you left the house without permission. That’s a big one. So give me another one. What is this next lick for?”<br />
<br />
The teenager shifted a little bit, then gave a small, throaty sob. “I... I don’t know!” she sobbed. <br />
<br />
Ruby shook her head and resisted the urge to give Charlie a stroke of the belt for defiance. “Try that again, or I’m gonna give you an extra for sassin’ me,” Ruby told her daughter. “You have ten seconds. What is this one for?”<br />
<br />
“For... For seein’ Greg!” Charlie cried just as the time was almost up.<br />
<br />
“Alright,” Ruby said. “Very good. This one’s for seein’ Greg when we told you you weren’t allowed to see him.” She didn’t hesitate then, but pulled the belt back and let it fly against the fullest part of Charlie’s bottom. It licked around the edge of her hip, leaving a little bruise there, and then the welt slowly rose, white in the center and red at the edges. Charlie howled again, and Ruby held her down expertly, shaking her head again. “I told you not to move, Charlie. You stay in position, here me?”<br />
<br />
After a moment, when it was obvious that Charlie was at least trying to obey her, Ruby asked her again. “Two more. What’s this one for?”<br />
<br />
There was a long hesitation while Charlie sobbed, shaking her head, and then she cried, “Cause I was drinkin’! I was drinkin’ Mama! I’m sorry! Please no more!”<br />
<br />
“Two ain’t gonna do it, baby. Even you know that. I let you get away with just two of these, an’ you’re gonna be thinkin’ that you can get away with anythin’ you wanna do. Ain’t gonna let that happen. So this one is for drinkin’.”<br />
<br />
Ruby took a deep breath, then swung the belt against Charlie’s upper thighs, creating a deep red line there. This time, Charlie reacted strongly, bolting so hard against Ruby’s hand that she almost lost her grip. But she pushed down hard just in time for her daughter to catch her in the shin with her left foot. Ruby growled and pushed harder at Charlie’s back. “Feet on the floor!” she admonished her. “One more. What’s it for?”<br />
<br />
This time there was a very long hesitation, then panicked breathing from Charlie before she finally said, “I don’t know! Mama, I don’t know! No more! Please... Mama PLEASE no more!”<br />
<br />
Ruby paused, then shook her head. “You ain’t allowed to be at parties that Daddy an’ I didn’t approve, Charlie. What’s this one for?”<br />
<br />
“Goin’ to the party!” Charlie cried out, her voice desperate as she trembled against the desk. “Cause I went to the party! PLEASE Mama! I won’t ever do it again!”<br />
<br />
“You’re right,” Ruby retorted. “You won’t do it again because if you do, you’re gonna get much worse than what you’re gettin’ right now. You gotta know that, little girl. Now you hold on tight to the desk. This one is really gonna hurt.”<br />
<br />
Lining up carefully, Ruby pulled the belt back above her shoulder, then put most of her strength into laying it across the tender crease where Charlie’s bottom and thighs met with one another, the most sensitive part of her bottom. The teenager howled, her hands shooting back, though Ruby held her down firmly until she was sure that Charlie was cooperating, and then she went to put the belt on the chair that both girls though of as “the spanking chair.” <br />
<br />
“What have you got to say for yourself?” Ruby asked her sobbing daughter.<br />
<br />
Charlie only shook her head from side to side, trembling still against the desk, her sobs desperate now. “Um... Sorry... Mama!” she said after nearly a minute. <br />
<br />
Satisfied, Ruby sighed and reached out to give Charlie a pat on the back, then bent to tug her pajama bottoms up over her bare, welted bottom. “Go on up to your room then. We’ll talk more about this in the mornin’. You get yourself in bed an’ sleep this off. Daddy’s gonna wanna talk to you, but we’re both real disappointed in you, Charlie. You done somethin’ real bad tonight. I don’t know when we’ll be trustin’ you again, but it ain’t gonna be any time real soon.”<br />
<br />
Ruby stood back while her daughter wiped at her streaming nose and eyes, then rushed out of the room. She followed after Charlie to make totally sure that she was headed for the stairs, then she sighed. She went into the kitchen to clean up from the late-night coffee, and then headed up to her room. When she got there, Ben was laying in bed with a book. He looked up at her and removed his classes, giving her a questioning look. <br />
<br />
“It’s done,” Ruby told her husband. “Four with the belt, an’ I told her that you’re gonna wanna talk to her in the mornin’. She’ll be sittin’ sore in church tomorrow. It’ll give her plenty to think about,” she added. <br />
<br />
“Did she get her lovin’ after?” Ben asked her. <br />
<br />
Raising her eyebrows at her husband, Ruby gave him a queer look. “What do you mean, ‘did she get her lovin’? She did somethin’ wrong, Benny. She got punished for it. That’s what happened down there. This wasn’t cuddlefest 2011.” <br />
<br />
Ben nodded his head slowly, and Ruby sensed disapproval. “So you’re sendin’ her to bed wonderin’ if we’re still angry, an’ if I’m gonna be mad at her in the mornin’.”<br />
<br />
“Gives her somethin’ to think about, don’t it?”<br />
<br />
“Sure does. Somethin’ to have nightmares about too,” Ben added, shaking his head. “I don’t know what gets into you sometimes, Ruby, but you’re damned cruel to that girl. She’s your daughter, just like Rissa is. An’ if she thinks Rissa’s a favorite, maybe you oughta be thinkin’ about the fact there might just be a reason for that.”<br />
<br />
Ruby wasn’t going to feel bad for Charlie. She’d gotten everything that she’d deserved as far as Ruby was concerned. Without giving it another thought, she stripped off her clothes, put them in the hamper, and then slipped on her nightgown. She climbed into bed next to her husband and put her head on the pillow.<br />
<br />
“I ain’t gonna make her go to church tomorrow,” Ben said after a moment. “An’ if that contradicts somethin’ you’ve already said, I’m sorry. But if you done punished that girl an’ not given her any lovin’ after... Then I think you got a lot of thinkin’ to do yourself, Ruby Nery.”<br />
<br />
“You trust her to stay home alone?” Ruby asked, incredulous. “I already told her she’s goin’ to church so she can sit on that bottom of hers an’ think about everythin’ she done wrong.”<br />
<br />
“I do trust her to stay home alone,” Ben said, turning to look at her. “I trust her because I think you done broke her tonight. You’re her Mama, an’ her feelin’s are already hurt. You go whippin’ her like you’re sure to have done, an’ then you just send her to bed...” Ben shook his head. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself,” he added, then put his glasses back on and went back to his book.<br />
<br />
Ruby fell asleep within minutes, but after a little more than an hour, she was awakened by screaming. Ben was already up and out of bed, shushing her. “It’s Charlie,” he said quietly to her. “I’m gonna go see to her. You stay here. You done enough for one night.<br />
<br />
The rest of the night, Ruby felt uneasy, unable to contain the feeling that she’d done something really wrong with her older daughter. Ben didn’t return to their bed, and she could only assume that he’d stayed with Charlie.<br />
<br />
Sunday morning, Ruby and Rissa went to church alone.Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-76638130683222440932011-07-04T12:40:00.000-07:002011-07-04T15:40:17.146-07:00Nery Legacy (1): Rights and Responsibilities<div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> It seemed like the days were getting longer, though perhaps that was because spring was creeping into summer, and that was the way that things went that time of year. The days had been getting longer and longer since December, but that wasn’t what was really getting Ben down. He was finding, as time went on, that there was more to do than he could handle, and worse than that was the fact that the money just wasn’t coming in the way that it used to. The family was mostly self-sufficient, but they still relied on the sale of small livestock and their produce stand to make it through some of the more difficult months, especially when winter rolled around and they were surviving off the canned food that Ruby put together and shelved in the cellar for the rougher months.<br />
<br />
Ben was just thinking that maybe it was time to go big. Rabbits and chicks weren’t going to support his family, even if the chickens and the rabbits did produce both meat and manure that could be used to keep their gardens going. The family owned dairy goats and a single cow, of course, along with their three horses, which they kept for both work and pleasure, but that wasn’t going to do what he needed. They had the acreage from when his grandfather had been alive and left the property to him, but they didn’t have the livestock to breed and then to sell for meat or for dairy. He’d have to do the research to decide where they were going to go from here. He had a family to support, and Charlie was getting expensive. <br />
<br />
There was a lot on his mind as Ben walked through the back door of the house and shuffled off his boots. It took him several moments to catch the raised voices, and he frowned, then sighed and shook his head. One, of course, belonged to his oldest, and the other was his wife, Ruby. He ran a hand back through his black hair and ruffled it, then rubbed at his temples before stepping through the back mudroom into the kitchen in his stockinged feet. <br />
<br />
The kitchen was a war zone. Ruby stood on one side of the table and Charlie on the other. Charlie’s hands were clenched into tight fists, and her face was red with anger, tears streaking her cheeks. Ruby’s blue eyes were bright with her own fury, and her red hair looked unkempt. He’d begun to think of it as her “crazy look” that she got when things really deteriorated at home, especially during a schooling session. <br />
<br />
“Charlotte Nicole, go to your room,” Ben said to his daughter, keeping his eyes on his wife with a warning look. “I’ll straighten this out.”<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a> He was tired. Damned tired. There was work to be done and the kids should have been spending more time helping him, but they’d spent too much time in the “real world” and gotten the impression that it was child labor for him to demand that they do chores around the homestead so that they could help to keep the family fed. So much for the citification of America, as far as Ben was concerned. He’d rather stay here and raise the kids where they’d learn real values, not the things that they were being taught in public schools these days. Who you were as a person was a reflection of the things that you valued; Ben had learned that the hard way. And now, as he watched his older daughter acting like a spoiled brat, he realized that the things she valued were material. It saddened him, and he shook his head, finally turning to look at her. “I said go to your room, Charlotte. Don’t make me tell you again or you can stand in the corner with your pants down around your knees if you wanna keep pushin’ me, girl.”<br />
It took an effort, but Ben managed to ignore his daughter when she rolled her eyes at him and headed for the stairs. He took a deep breath, seeking to find his center, then he turned his attention to his wife, cocking an eyebrow at her. “So, do you want to tell me what’s goin’ on this time?” Fights between Ruby and their older daughter were pretty typical, and it didn’t surprise him to walk in on the two of them fighting. It was always up to him to get control over the situation, since Ruby’s temper was hotter than anybody else in the family. He’d have a talk with her, then have a discussion with his daughter, laying down discipline to one or both as he felt it necessary to do so.<br />
<br />
Ruby sighed and shook her head, and Ben closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath as he pulled out one of the chairs and sank down into it. Finally he opened his eyes and looked up at his wife, following her with his eyes as she slowly sat down in her own chair. “I don’t like to come in from working in our gardens to find that the two of you have been fighting, an’ you know it, Ruby. There’s no supper ready, an’ I’m exhausted. I need your help out there workin’ our land, an’ if you can’t, that’s fine. But I’d appreciate it if the stuff at home was gettin’ done, Ruby. So you wanna tell me what stopped supper from bein’ ready? Cause you know full well that we can’t afford to order somethin’ in.”<br />
<br />
“No Sir,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “An’ I’m sorry ‘bout that, Benny. I was about to put a casserole in the oven when Charlie came in here an’ started with her demands. I’ve got a splittin’ headache an’ I don’t think I can take much more of this.” Ruby sighed, shaking her head. “She wants to go out for a date into town on Saturday with that boy Greg that she’s been seein’. I don’ like him, Ben. I said ‘no’ an’ that’s when she started yellin’ about how I was bein’ unfair an’ she was gonna ask you. Cause she thinks that you’re gonna go against what I’m sayin’.”<br />
<br />
“Well then she’s got another thing comin’ if she asks me to go out on that date,” Ben told his wife. “That boy’s bad news an’ I ain’t gonna have her hangin’ with him. I ain’t ready to be a grandfather just yet,” he added with a little chuckle. <br />
<br />
“So that’s what this was all about?” Ben asked, becoming serious as his wife stood up to finally get the casserole into the oven. She turned once she had finished the task, leaning against the stove and crossing her arms over her chest. Ben raised his eyebrows, and she dropped her arms. “You two had this big fight over her not bein’ able to go on a date this weekend?” <br />
<br />
“It always starts with one thing an’ goes on from there,” Ruby said, shrugging her shoulders. “First it was because she wasn’t allowed to go on the date, an’ then she wanted her own horse, an’ then she needed a new dress. An’ I told her that until she’s contributing to the family, she’s not gonna have those things. They cost money, an’ it’s money we don’t have right now. I swear to you that kid thinks that money grows on trees.”<br />
<br />
Ben felt a twinge of regret. For the past five years he’d been sending money to his ex sister in law to help support her children, since his brother Raphael hadn’t been supporting them himself. Though he had dropped his payments to five hundred dollars a month, it was still money that would help to give his own children the things that they wanted, and not just the things that they needed. “We’ll talk about her gettin’ a horse if she gets her grades up an’ starts doin’ more work around the homestead. I don’t think she’s near responsible enough for a pet of her own,” Ben told his wife.<br />
<br />
For a moment Ben said nothing, then he shook his head at Ruby. “When I came in here, I heard two voices yellin’. You wanna tell me what you were doin’ yellin’ at our daughter? Cause I gotta tell ya, Ruby, it ain’t just about her bein’ respectful an’ doing what she should. Some of that’s on you, an’ she’s learnin’ from your example. You oughtta know that by now.”<br />
<br />
Ruby groaned, her head rolling back on her neck, and it struck Ben that she acted a lot like Charlie did. Or maybe it really was that their daughter was learning too much from Ruby. “That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You act like than an’ then she does too. She’s disrespectful to you an’ she’s disrespectful to me an’ I’ve about had it. I work way too hard runnin’ this place to have the two of you constantly throwin’ it up in my face!”<br />
<br />
“You don’t know what it’s like bein’ home with Charlie all day!” Ruby snapped back. Ben could tell that she was frustrated, but his own temper rose with her tone, and he pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the hard wood beneath it. <br />
<br />
“I know she’s my daughter, an’ I know I love her no matter what she does an’ how she behaves,” Ben told his wife. “An’ I know that hearin’ you talk like that would probably hurt her feelin’s, even if she doesn’t show it. An’ I think that my wife needs as much a lesson in respect as my daughter does. So we’ll be talkin’ before bed tonight, I can guarantee you that.” He wanted to make sure that he was going to have sufficient time to deal with his wife when he laid down the law for her. Right now, his daughter needed him, and he was starting to think in more ways than one.<br />
<br />
“You think about that,” Ben said to his wife as he stood up, staring hard at her, his blue eyes steely as he shook his head and turned to leave the kitchen. “I’m gonna go have a talk with our daughter. An’ no, I ain’t gonna tell her she can go on a date. I won’t contradict you that way, Ruby. But I’d appreciate it if you’d return the favor an’ show me a bit of respect.”<br />
<br />
Because he didn’t want to give his wife a chance to launch into a full attack on him when he was already agitated, Ben went out of the kitchen without turning another look in her direction. At the bottom of the stairs, he hesitated for a moment, listening to the music pumping down the steps from Charlie’s room. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that she was sixteen, vulnerable, and sensitive. He would never quite understand girls, but he loved his to death. Sometimes that meant putting up with things that he thought were downright stupid, like the fact that the women in his family didn’t seem to quite grasp the concept of respect. <br />
<br />
Behind him, the front door opened and closed, and he could hear the excited chattering of his younger daughter as she came in from some chore outside. He smiled to himself, reminded that they made him proud all the time, even when there were times that he thought he could wring their necks. <br />
<br />
Once he had braced himself, Ben started up the stairs, walking up them slowly. Outside Charlie’s door, he took another deep breath, then knocked hard on the door, wanting to make sure that he was heard over the blaring hip hop that she was listening to. The lyrics made him cringe, but he and Ruby had decided to allow their daughters to express themselves through their music, and, within reason, in how they dressed. Thankfully, he didn’t think that either of their children had made poor choices.<br />
<br />
When the door opened, Ben sighed. His daughter’s cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes red, her hair a mess. “Can I come in?” he asked her as gently as he could. They both knew that hew as here for discipline, and that tended to make things difficult. But he didn’t want her to feel unsafe talking to him, either, and he had always tried to be an approachable father, even when he had to correct his daughters, or, for that matter, his wife.<br />
<br />
Charlie made a face and moved out of his way, so Ben passed her into the room and then went to sit down on her bed, turning his head to look at his daughter where she was still standing in the doorway. “I’d like to know what happened with Mama,” he told her gently. “Your side of the story. I didn’t get much from her, but I know that the two of you were yellin’ at one another pretty hard, an’ you know that ain’t allowed, Charlie. Not for neither of you, an’ I’m gonna be havin’ a talk with your mother, too. But I wanna know what got this thing started. An’ I wanna know what I can do to help.”<br />
<br />
His daughter slammed the door, and Ben winced, but he didn’t say anything for right now as she leaned against it and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring hard at him. “Mom’s a bitch,” she said, and he winced again, then tried to clear his expression. That, too, would be something that they could talk about a little bit later. For right now, Ben focused his attention on his daughter as she continued to talk. “I asked her if I could see Greg on Saturday an’ she said no. Then she said I shouldn’t even bother to talk to you about it cause you’re just gonna say no anyway. She called him a bastard an’ some other nasty names an’ said he’s no good for me.”<br />
<br />
“Is he?” Ben asked as calmly as he could. “Good for you, I mean.”<br />
<br />
Charlie shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. I don’t care, either. I like him, and it’s fun when we’re together. It’s so boring here. I hate it and I wish that we could just move back into the city! Mom’s always on my case, and everybody knows you like Rissa better’n me!” <br />
<br />
Ben could see that his daughter was becoming defensive, and he didn’t like it particularly. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Rissa an’ I get along better’n you an’ I do because she’s younger an’ ain’t goin’ through all this puberty like you are, an’ she doesn’t act out like this, Charlie. You should be learnin’ by now that your family wants to spend time with you, but ain’t nobody want to hang out with you while you’re yellin’ at ‘em an’ makin’ ‘em feel like you don’t want ‘em around. Stop this right now. If you can’t talk to me with respect, then we’re done talkin’, an’ we can start the part I know you ain’t gonna like. You got somethin’ to say, you apologize an’ you say it nicely.” Ben paused, then added, “I’m listenin’.”<br />
<br />
“Okay,” Charlie said, huffing a breath in through her nose. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Ben was pretty sure she knew that she was in trouble from the incident in the kitchen, and he knew that probably had something to do with the reason why she changed her tune so quickly. “I’m just upset because Mama said those things about Greg. I like him. He’s fun to be around. And I’m only gonna be sixteen once and I’d like to have some fun while I still can!”<br />
<br />
“I can appreciate that, Charlie,” Ben said slowly. “Livin’ on a farm is hard work an’ I can understand how you might want to go back to the city. Sometimes I wish that we could go back to the city. But this is our live now, baby. It’s somethin’ that we’re all gonna have to get used to. I love you, an’ I love your sister an’ your Mama to death, but with things bein’ the way that they are, this is our life now. You’re gonna have to get used to it. An’ in the meantime, we’ll see about you gettin’ to spend some more time with your friends in the city.” Ben hesitated, then shook his head. “But not this weekend. Not when Mama said ‘no’ an’ not with the way that you been actin’ right now. You wanna have that time, you’re gonna have to start contributing to the homestead, baby girl. I know it ain’t easy, but life ain’t the same as what it was before. We’re all adjusting these last two years. You need to make adjustments too.”<br />
<br />
As he watched, Ben could see the emotions flicker across his daughter’s face before she finally just gave a little nod of her head. “Okay,” she said weakly, making Ben smile. They’d come a long way in the last two years, and he really thought that Charlie was learning. If he could get Ruby to stay off her case, he thought that he’d have a very mature sixteen year-old daughter. He was proud of her, though he knew that he didn’t tell her that enough. <br />
<br />
Now Ben smiled up at his daughter and nodded his head. “I’d been plannin’ on givin’ you a good spankin’ for that fight with your mother, Charlie, but you know what? I think maybe you’re learnin’ somethin’. I think we can skip it this time. But that don’t mean you ain’t gonna be punished. This weekend, you’re gonna help me in the barn, muckin’ out all the stalls for the horses an’ our other animals. I want you to spend that time thinkin’ about responsibility an’ how you can earn some of the privileges that you think are rights. Cause you goin’ out with Greg ain’t a right, baby girl. That’s a privilege an’ you only go if Mama an’ I say that you can.”<br />
<br />
It took a moment before Charlie nodded her head. “Yes Sir,” she told her father. <br />
<br />
He could see that she was breathing heavily and struggling to keep her emotions in check, so Ben stood up and crossed to his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders and kissing her forehead. “I’m proud of you, baby girl,” he told her, tucking a strand of short dark hair behind her ear. “Sometimes it ain’t all your fault you’re fightin’ with Mama an’ I know it, so I’ll be talkin’ to her too. You done good acceptin’ what I told you. Makes me proud.” <br />
<br />
Ben kissed Charlie’s head again, then opened the door and headed for the stairs to check on what was going on with his wife and his younger daughter.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Supper was only ten minutes over when the first crack of thunder sounded. Ben glanced around at his family. “Rissa, the goats put up an’ the tarps up on the rabbits?” he asked his younger daughter. <br />
<br />
“Yes Sir, Daddy,” Clarissa said.<br />
<br />
Ben nodded in approval and smiled at his younger daughter, then turned to his wife. “You wanna go grab the dogs an’ bring ‘em in for the night? I don’t like leavin’ ‘em out in this kind of a storm.” There were three dogs, two border collies and the Rottweiler that the family kept for alarm and protection. “They can stay inside tonight. Maybe even make a fire later on an’ we can all sit down an’ watch some television.” Because they home schooled, the bedtime schedule was a bit more flexible than it might have been otherwise, especially since neither child worked the morning chores (yet).<br />
<br />
“Charlie, did you get the horses in like you’re supposed to?” Ben asked, turning to his older daughter. It was one of her chores to take care of grooming the horses, and one of the steps in doing so was to bring them in. Most of the heavier work was done by Ben and sometimes by Ruby, so that the girls didn’t have to strain themselves too much unless they were being punished. <br />
<br />
Next to him, Charlie shifted a bit in her seat. “Yes Sir,” she told him. Ben thought that he noted a bit of nervousness in his daughter’s voice, but he pushed that out of his mind and nodded to Ruby. <br />
<br />
“Go on an’ get the dogs. I’m gonna go on out with Rissa an’ check to make sure that the rabbits are all secured up for the night. Charlie, you get started on the dishes. We’ll be back in about twenty minutes. You should be done by then an’ I can make us all a fire an’ we can watch television.” <br />
<br />
It would take Ruby a while to find the dogs and bring them in, since they had a free rein of the yard and Buddy, their Rottweiler, loved the rain. He’d be the hardest to track down, while the collies were likely to be near the barn, hoping to be let in. <br />
<br />
Standing up from his chair, Ben crossed to his wife, kissed her, then reached out to ruffle Charlie’s hair. He gestured for Rissa, and then headed to the back door, where he stepped into his boots, then stooped to tie them. “Get your boots on,” he said to his younger daughter. “I don’t wanna worry about you soakin’ through your normal shoes. Shouldn’t be wearin’ any in the house anyway, sweet girl. Get those boots on an’ we’ll check on the rabbits.”<br />
<br />
The rain had only just started, which was lucky, because there wasn’t a lot of mud. Ben kept his head down as he trekked out with Clarissa behind him, heading back to the area behind the garage where they kept the rabbit hutches. “You got them covered up, baby!” he said, grinning at Rissa. “I’m real proud of you for doin’ what I ask. You’ll make a good homesteader one day.” He smiled again, shaking his head at the thought that his younger daughter was his little redneck, then he checked the tie downs to make sure that the tarp would protect the rabbits and their straw from the rain and the wind. He reached out to pull Rissa into a hug, holding her against his body, and then started back toward the house, fighting the wind.<br />
<br />
That was when Ben heard a cry, and a whinny from one of the horses. He looked up, turning his head and frowning as he looked toward the pasture, and then his eyes went wide. “Charlie!” he exclaimed as his daughter skittered out of the way of a rearing horse. “Get on the other side of the fence!” He let go of Rissa’s shoulders, turning to her only for a second. “Go help your mother get the dogs an’ get inside!” he told her, then took off at a run toward his older daughter. “Get out of there, Charlotte!” he shouted, reaching under the fence rail to grab her by the collar and pull her the rest of the way out. Ben took a step back himself, shaking his head. <br />
<br />
The storm was making the horses nervous, and Ben shot his daughter a look, then slowly went to the gate, crooning to the anxious horse as he did so. When he got close enough, he grabbed the halter and then led the gelding toward the barn, leading him inside and then getting him settled into his stall. He checked quickly to make sure that the stall was clean, then scratched his head and groaned. He’d have to feed the horses tonight, since Charlie hadn’t done it. He expected that he’d find her up at the house when he was finished, but as he was leaving the barn, he met her coming in with one of their two mares, her head down.<br />
<br />
Shaking his own head, Ben went to grab the other mare. She was calmer than the gelding had been, but still nervous as he led her into the barn, then got her settled into her stall. He checked her over, checked her hooves, then grabbed a pick out of his back pocket to pick a rock out of her hoof. As he finished up, he heard the sound of Charlie distributing the oats, and he went to stand in the hall of the barn, staring at his daughter. “Well?” he said to her. “What have you got to say for yourself, Charlotte?”<br />
<br />
For a long time the sixteen year-old didn’t say anything, just staring down at the ground at her feet. She kicked at the concrete floor, then shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t put the horses up like I said,” she said finally. <br />
<br />
“I can see that, Charlotte,” Ben said. He shook his head, then sighed heavily and crossed to his daughter. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze against himself. Although he was angry with his daughter, he loved her dearly, and there was enough harshness in the house with her and Ruby snapping at one another all the time. “Let’s get on inside before the storm really hits an’ we can talk about this in there. I’m sure your sister’s got Mama filled in on what’s happenin’, Charlie. An’ I’m pretty sure you’ve got a good idea yourself that you ain’t gettin’ out of it this time. Come on. Let’s go.”<br />
<br />
Ben didn’t give Charlie a chance to hang back, but instead put his arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the barn. She was small for her sixteen years, and he tucked her against him firmly as he rushed for the house. “Hurry up!” he shouted over the thunder. The rain was really starting to come down now and he didn’t want either of them to get wetter than they needed to. He’d forgotten his jacket, and she was only wearing a t-shirt and already beginning to tremble against him. They were going to need that fire after all.<br />
<br />
Once he had pushed his way through the back door, Ben called out to his wife. When she answered, he said, “Go on an’ get that fire started up! Charlie an’ I are gonna have a chat in my office. Rissa, go ahead an’ do the dishes for me baby,” he added when he saw his younger daughter at the sink. He didn’t say anything else about Charlie being in trouble because it was between him and her and he planned on making things as quick and quiet as possible, though he doubted that his daughter was going to make that particularly easy.<br />
<br />
The office was down the hall from the living room, part of the original single-story building that had been added to over the century. Ben reached it, then opened the door and gestured for Charlie to go in ahead of him. “I’m going to go get you some dry clothing,” he told his daughter. “I want you to go stand in the corner. You might as well take off your jeans an’ your panties. You won’t be needin’ ‘em in a few minutes.” Though he was sure that Charlie had already known that she was in very serious trouble, he noticed the way that she stiffened, looking up at him with blue eyes filled with dread. Ben dropped a kiss onto her forehead, then pointed to the corner. “Go on. You’re soakin’ wet. I’m goin’ out for a minute, so you’ll have some privacy, an’ the corner will protect your modesty. I mean it, Char. Go.”<br />
<br />
Ben left the office and headed for the laundry room, which was part of the mudroom. When his wife gave him a questioning look, he nodded for her to come with him, and then he entered, digging through the hanging laundry that had been washed and dried and which now hung waiting to be taken upstairs. “Charlotte didn’t put the horses up,” he told Ruby when he heard her enter the room behind him. “So she came out while we were out there to try to get them before I could notice. Amarillo reared up at her an’ I had to get him down an’ put away. She got the mares an’ got everybody fed, but I ain’t happy she lied to me.”<br />
<br />
Turning to his wife, Ben sighed, then shook his head. “I don’t know what gets into her sometimes. I know she ain’t happy livin’ here an’ I suppose that some of that’s my fault. I shoulda thought about how this decision was gonna impact my girls. But she’s gonna have to get over it, Ruby. We got no choice now. We’re gonna make this work, cause that’s what we do. That’s what Nerys do.” He sighed, then ran his hands back through his thick black hair and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with her sometimes.”<br />
<br />
“Well I ain’t helpin’,” Ruby said with a sigh. “I mean, she an’ I fight like we’re cat an’ dog. An’ it ain’t makin’ it better for you, or for her. I know it, but it’s like... It’s like it’s somethin’ in our blood.”<br />
<br />
“An’ we’ll be talkin’ about that, too,” Ben said. “You an’ me will have a chat tonight before bed. I talked to Charlie an’ I ain’t gonna have you antagonizin’ her, Ruby. She’s a good kid, even if you can’t see it right now. You owe her better than the way you been snappin’ at her an’ makin’ out that she’s doin’ so much wrong. She makes the right choices most of the time. I’d thank you to remember that.” He paused, then added. “An’ it’s the same blood coursin’ through her veins as is coursin’ through yours. She’s your daughter, Ruby, not an enemy.”<br />
<br />
Turning, Ben grabbed a pair of sweat pants out of the clean laundry, then a t-shirt off a hanger and started out of the laundry room, leaving his wife to think about all that he’d said. They would, indeed, be talking about this situation later on. He wasn’t going to have his two girls fighting with one another that way all the time. If he had to start taking Charlie out with him when he did his chores, it might be good for her in more ways than one. Maybe if things continued as they were, he would take that into consideration, and possibly choose that path. He wanted what was best for his family, and so far it felt as though he was making a lot of bad choices.<br />
<br />
With a heavy sigh, Ben let himself back into his office. He closed the door behind him, then turned on the light and crossed the room to close the blinds on the other side of the room, giving his daughter more privacy. When he turned to look at her where she stood in the corner, naked from the waist down, she was looking at him, her blue eyes liquid with tears. He glanced at one of the old wooden chairs tucked up against the wall, noting that she had folded her wet jeans and her panties on the chair, and then put her shoes on top of it. “I didn’t think to grab you any socks,” Ben said apologetically to his daughter as he carried her clean clothes to his desk, then bent to open one of the drawers, digging around inside for an appropriate tool for the work that he was about to do. A moment later he put a twelve-inch wooden ruler on the desk and then sat down in his chair, turning to look at Charlie. She’d turned back to the corner, and now Ben sighed again.<br />
<br />
“So let’s start by talkin’ about why you lied to me.” Ben cleared his throat to let his daughter know that he wasn’t done talking, then he continued. “Seems to me you were worried about gettin’ yourself into trouble for not doin’ your chores an’ you thought that you’d be able to get the horses in before I could tell what you were doin’. An’ it seems to me that you weren’t really thinkin’ that one through, since I gave you somethin’ to do before I went to check on them rabbits.” Ben stared calmly at the back of Charlie’s head, then shook his head. “So tell me, Charlotte; what did you think was the worst thing that could happen if you told me the truth about not bringing the horses in?”<br />
<br />
In the corner, Charlotte made a small, unhappy sound, and Ben closed his eyes, steeling himself. It was difficult for him to see any of his girls cry, and Charlotte, in particular, could break his heart. She’d said earlier that Rissa was his favorite, but the truth was that Clarissa and Ruby were particularly close, and in spite of the fact that she wasn’t the baby, Charlie was special to Ben in a way that he could never explain. It was a father’s bond with his first daughter, and he didn’t try to explain it to others. He loved Charlie in a special way that was reserved just for her. He didn’t love her more than Clarissa, just differently.<br />
<br />
“Daddy...” Charlie said after he was silent for several long moments. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” she said finally, her words choking in the end. Ben could see from behind that she was crying, her shoulders trembling as she fought sobs, and he sighed, then got up and went to his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a squeeze, then turning her around and pulling her firmly into his arms, hugging her tightly against him. <br />
<br />
After a moment, Ben pulled back from his daughter and brushed the dark brown hair out of her face, searching her blue eyes. “Baby girl, I ain’t disappointed in you. I’m disappointed in the choice that you made. I’m frustrated that you’re askin’ me to let you do things when you ain’t doin’ the few things I’m askin’ of you. But you? You ain’t a disappointment. I’m proud of you every day, Charlie. Even when you do things that don’t make sense to me.”<br />
<br />
Ben sighed deeply, then pulled Charlie close and kissed her forehead. “Baby girl, I love you, but you’re gonna have to be punished for this one. I let you off the hook earlier because you done me proud by doin’ what I asked without havin’ a fit. I think you’re growin’ up, I really do. But I’m worried that this one is gonna keep happenin’, so we’re gonna talk about it. First you’re gonna get yourself a good, sound spankin’, an’ then you an’ me are gonna talk about what happens next. I already told you that you got chores this weekend, but I think that you an’ I are gonna be workin’ together from now on. You’ll go where I go, so I can show you how to do the chores you been avoidin’. Maybe you just don’t know how an’ don’t wanna ask for help. I dunno. But I also know that you an’ Mama have been snappin’ at one another an’ maybe it’s best you wasn’t spendin’ so much time around one another right now. I got plenty of time to spend with you if you can spend it with me doin’ the things I gotta do. Understand?”<br />
<br />
“You’re always busy, Daddy,” Charlie said in a small voice. “Since we moved here, you always got somethin’ to do.”<br />
<br />
“That’s right. But that don’t mean I ain’t got time for you, Charlie. Now, one big difference is that you can come with me when I’m workin’. You couldn’t do that before. An’ maybe we can even do some of your schoolin’ while we’re out workin’. That way you only have to do the tests with Mama an’ you two won’t wind up gettin’ on each other’s nerves so much. What do you think?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Sir, Daddy.”<br />
<br />
Ben cupped his daughter’s face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes, feeling as though his heart was reflected there. He sighed, then shook his head. “No, baby. I ain’t tellin’ you somethin’. I ain’t layin’ down a punishment. I’m askin’ if you’d rather be spendin’ that time with me instead of cooped up in the house workin’ on school with Mama. If you’d rather stay here, then we can do that, too. This is about you, not some mistake you made.”<br />
<br />
Beneath his hands, Charlie shivered a little bit, and Ben pulled her into another tight hug, rubbing her back and gently tugging at the ends of her long brown hair. “I’d like that,” she said finally, and her voice choked again. Ben knew it was time to get the worst of this out of the way so that she could start relaxing again. He didn’t mean to make her wait, but he wanted to make sure, before he warmed up her bottom, that Charlie knew just how much he loved her. He kissed her forehead again, then gave her back a final rub. “Then let’s get your spankin’ over with so we can go watch some television with Mama an’ Rissa. I won’t wake you up tomorrow mornin’ for chores, but Saturday’s fair game. Understand?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Sir, Daddy.” Charlie gave a weak nod of her head, and that was all that Ben needed. He was perhaps more ready than she was to just have this over with so that he cold relax with the family. Though he hated to admit to it, disciplining his wife and children was additional work that had to be done once work was done.<br />
<br />
Standing up from his desk chair, Ben went to pull out the old wooden chair that he had placed against the wall. He put it in the center of the room, then sat down in it and reached for Charlie’s hand. She was already naked from the waist down, and there was naught to remove, so he simply tugged her forward between his knees, then sighed. “Charlie, reach for that ruler I’ve got on my desk, would you? I’m gonna be needin’ it.” It didn’t bother him to know that such a request increased Charlie’s dread of what was coming, or that it humiliated her. That was part of the punishment, and part of what made it effective. He wanted to make sure that she was never going to want to be in this position again.<br />
<br />
Charlie turned, bending back a bit, barely snagging the ruler with her fingers, and Ben let go of her hand to give her more room to do what she needed to do. A moment later, his daughter was holding the ruler out to him, and Ben took it from her, then tapped it hard against his thigh in warning. “Well, Charlie. Let me make this clear: When I give you a chore to do, you get it done. If there’s some reason you can’t get it done, then you tell me before it’s too late an’ I’ll either help you or make sure that somebody else can do it. So you’re gettin’ punished for that. An’ you’re also gettin’ punished cause you lied to me, Charlie. This is gonna be a hell of a spankin’, just so you know. I don’t expect you’re gonna want to do much sittin’ when I’m done, but you’re gonna go on out there with Mama an’ Rissa an’ we’re all gonna choose a movie to watch together. An’ you’ll be nice about it too. You understand me?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Sir, Daddy,” Charlie said again. There were tears in her big blue eyes, and her brown hair had fallen into her face. It made Ben sigh and shake his head. He hated having to punish his daughter so severely, but he knew that it was something that had to be done.<br />
<br />
“Come on then, baby girl. Let’s get you over my lap so that we can get this nasty business done with. A good, sound spankin’ will get my baby back on the straight an’ narrow faster than anythin’ I know.” He only hoped that his words were true, because if they weren’t, Ben wasn’t sure that he knew another way. He’d been brought up with hard work and strict punishment, and now he was raising his own family the same way.<br />
<br />
When Charlie hesitated, Ben reached for her hand again and guided her down over his lap, pulling on her hand with his left and using his right to push her down and into position. He adjusted her carefully, raising her bottom up over his right thigh and lowering his left so that her chest and shoulders were low and her bottom made an excellent target. “Hang onto the rungs of the chair if you need to, Charlotte. I expect you to keep yourself in position an’ to not go tryin’ to wiggle your way off my lap. You know it’s only gonna get worse for you if you try,” he added, wanting to make sure that his daughter understood what was going to happen to her, and how much it was going to hurt. He felt her body shift and knew that she was doing as he suggested. A little sob came from the direction of Charlie’s head, and Ben knew that they both wanted this over with as much as one another.<br />
<br />
Using the ruler to pat at his daughter’s upturned bottom, Ben began his lecture anew. “Those horses are countin’ on you to do your chores, Charlotte. When the weather comes in like it’s doin’ right now, they need to be safe in that barn. Worse, because you waited until the last minute, you nearly got yourself killed. Nothin’ funny about that. You coulda saved a lot of time an’ a lot of trouble if you’d done your job in the first place. I’m disappointed in you, an’ you’re gonna have to prove to me that you can be trusted with your jobs again. I hate not bein’ able to trust you, baby girl.”<br />
<br />
With that, the little pats became more aggressive, and then Ben raised the ruler and really brought it down hard on Charlie’s white bottom. The ruler made a rather odd sound, one that was unique to all spanking implements. It was a sort of a “thwack” from the thin, narrow length of wood. The reaction from Charlie was instantaneous, her body bucking beneath him, and Ben pulled her tighter against his body, wrapping his left arm more firmly around her side. “I’m only gettin’ started, little girl,” he scolded his daughter. You wanna get your breathin’ under control an’ really be thinkin’ about what you done wrong. You don’t want this to happen again any more than I do, now do you?” He applied the ruler again, this time a bit lower than the last smack of the dreaded wood, raising a narrow red line with puffy, darker red welts at the edges. He rubbed the ruler over her bottom, giving her a chance to regain her composure and to answer his question. He knew that she would want to, even though it didn’t require an answer. Charlie always tended to try to do her best to make things right when she’d done something wrong, and she’d really messed up this time.<br />
<br />
“Y-yes Sir!” Charlie sobbed. <br />
<br />
Ben nodded his head and rubbed his daughter’s back a little bit. “Well then, let’s get on with this thing,” he told her. This time, when he raised the hand that was holding the narrow makeshift paddle, Ben didn’t really hold back, and he didn’t give his daughter much time to think between smacks. Instead, he brought the ruler down an inch below his last mark, using more force than he had before and shaking his head. “If you think this hurts, you need to be thinkin’ about what coulda happened to you if that horse had gotten to you, Charlotte!” he told her, letting the ruler fall steadily in an even rhythm as he spanked down her bottom, an inch at a time. By the time that he reached Charlie’s thighs, her bottom was covered in narrow red lines and thin welts, and she was sobbing hard. <br />
<br />
In spite of her cries, however, Ben was very proud of his daughter. She hadn’t tried to reach back and she wasn’t struggling against him, and he knew just how hard that had to be. So when he was halfway to Charlie’s knees, Ben stopped and patted her back. “I’m real proud of you, Charlie. You’re doin’ a great job. You learnin’ your lesson?” He was asking her, as much as for any other reason, to make sure that she was still breathing well enough to speak clearly. If she wasn’t, they were done. If she could speak to him (and he was sure she’d be able to), he would work his way back up her thighs and bottom before he was finished.<br />
<br />
“Y-yes Daddy!” Charlie sobbed.<br />
<br />
Ben paused to rub the sixteen year-old’s back for a moment, then sighed. “Half done,” he said. The announcement was met with a wail of dismay from Charlie, but Ben was determined to make sure that she understood the gravity of what she had done. “This part is for lyin’ to me about doin’ your chore. You or one of those horses coulda gotten bad hurt, an’ we need the horses, Charlotte. You remember that the next time you wanna skip out on one of your chores.” He shook his head, and then he began again, this time working his way up, covering the most recent marks first, doubling them up, and moving up from Charlie’s thighs to the fullest part of her bottom again. When he was finished, Ben lay one last, very hard thwack of the ruler against Charlie’s bottom, then he rubbed the ruler against it before leaning over and tossing it back onto the desk.<br />
<br />
With his free left hand, Ben rubbed gently at Charlie’s back, trying to soothe her into a more even pattern of breathing. She was a mess, sobbing hard, making small whimpering noises of dread and he was beginning to think possibly even fear. “It’s over, baby girl,” Ben assured his daughter. “All done now. Daddy’s finished.” Still, he kept Charlie over his lap as she sobbed, wanting to get her calmer before he took her to her feet and then attempted to comfort her.<br />
<br />
It took nearly five minutes before Ben thought that Charlie was ready, and then he gently guided her up and onto her feet, then reached for one of her hands, running his thumb over the back of it. With the hand that was free, Charlie wiped at her eyes and at her running nose, but didn’t reach back to rub her bottom. She knew better. <br />
<br />
“I got you sweats,” Ben told his daughter. “I figured they’d be most comfortable. Why don’t you go put those on? An’ I’ll leave so that you can change your shirt. I’ll take them into the laundry room an’ get them goin’ for you. Then we can go find a movie to watch with Mama an’ Rissa, an’ you can apologize to your sister for her havin’ to do the dishes for you since you were out with the horses. Okay?”<br />
<br />
When Charlie gave him a small nod, Ben stood up and wrapped his arms around his daughter, embracing her tightly and then kissing her head. “You go on an’ change your clothes. Bring ‘em out to me an’ I’ll take ‘em. You can stand in the corner while I get everythin’ settled an’ then, if you want, we’ll talk.” He nodded to her, brushed her hair back from her face, and then left the office so that she could change her clothes, rub her bottom, and maybe clean up her face a little bit. He felt for his daughter, and hated seeing her cry. It was even worse when he was the one who had made her cry, and he had to force himself to remember that it was her own doing that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She deserved the spanking, and if it made her cry, well, that was part of her working through her guilty conscience, wasn’t it?<br />
<br />
A few moments later, the office door opened, and Charlie passed her clothes out. Her head was down, and Ben could see that she was still crying. He turned before she could close the door again, taking the clothes in his left hand and using his right to cup her cheek gently. “Charlie,” he said softly. “I love you baby girl.” He bent to kiss her head again, then drew back, taking the clothes with him as he headed for the laundry room, expecting her to do as he had said and to put herself into the corner. He took the clothes into the laundry room, added them to their appropriate load, and then loaded that into the washer.<br />
<br />
When he was finished, Ben headed back to his office. He knocked on the door, then pushed it open. Sure enough, Charlie was standing in the corner and sobbing softly to herself. She was fully dressed, and she had her hands still tucked up in front of her, not rubbing. Ben had to say that he was proud of her, but he didn’t voice the feeling. If she needed to rub, he wanted her to feel free to do it once the punishment was over. <br />
<br />
“Come on,” he told Charlie, reaching out for her so that she could come to him for a hug. “Let’s have a quick cuddle so that we can find out what movie Rissa has picked out. I’m sure she’s already chosen something. How much do you want to bet it’s Ever After?”<br />
<br />
“I hope it’s Flicka,” Charlie said. “I like that movie.” <br />
<br />
Ben recognized the hint, but chose to ignore it. If she was going to have a horse of her own, there was going to have to be an income first, and then she was going to have to show that she was responsible enough to take care of a horse. Instead, he just hugged his daughter’s shoulders tightly, then wiped the tears from her face. “Come on,” Ben said to his oldest. “Let’s go an’ spend some time as a family. You can stay up tonight, but tomorrow you’re goin’ to bed early. Understand?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Sir,” Charlie said, not for the first time that day.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Two hours later, Ben had taken Charlie up to bed and Ruby had tucked Rissa up. They swapped girls, each giving goodnight kisses, and then Ben met his wife in the hallway. “You know I need to turn in early. Especially after a storm like this, I’ve gotta check on the animals in the mornin’. So it’s time for us to have a talk,” he told Ruby. “Our room. Now, Ruby.”<br />
<br />
Though his wife gave him a withering look, she obeyed the obvious instruction. Ben had naturally taken charge early on in their relationship, and though his father in law had teased him about it, the entire family (except, perhaps, for the children) knew that he was in charge of his wife and that meant that he sometimes disciplined her when he felt that it was necessary. Nothing was more important to Ben than the well-being of his family, and since he felt strongly that Ruby was setting a bad example for their older daughter, he wanted to nip this in the bud before it kept going and got out of control. <br />
<br />
Ben gave his wife a few moments to prepare herself for their talk, then he followed her into the bedroom and carefully closed the door behind him. When he had done so, Ben crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Ruby. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on with you an’ Charlie this time. I got her side of the story, sayin’ that you’re tellin’ her Greg is a bastard an’ you don’t want him around her. I happen to agree that she’s too young to date, but you think your words might’a been a bit harsh there, Ruby?”<br />
<br />
It had been an exhausting day, and Ben would have preferred to be relaxing instead of arguing with his wife. At times like this, he always knew that things would eventually deteriorate into an argument, and he wasn’t looking forward to the consequences of the argument any more than he was sure Ruby was. He was prepared when she lashed out angrily, and he just breathed deeply, seeking his calm center. <br />
<br />
“You don’t know what it’s like bein’ with her all day, every day!” Ruby cried, throwing her hands up in obvious frustration. “She’s always askin’ for things that we can’t afford, an’ complainin’ about not being able to go into town. She provokes me, Benny! An’ then she gets upset when I react to her. What do you expect me to do?”<br />
<br />
“I expect you to love our daughter, an’ to be an adult,” Ben snapped back. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to contain his agitation with both his daughter and his wife, and his frustration from Charlotte earlier was now starting to spill over to Ruby. “Do you think that your choice of words didn’t hurt her feelin’s? Just ‘cause you don’t always see her react doesn’t mean ain’t hurt! I think she was prolly angry, and she was prolly yellin’ at you, but she’s a child, Ruby. An’ you’re supposed to be actin’ like her mother, not like her sister. She an’ Rissa don’t fight this badly. What has gotten into you?”<br />
<br />
“You don’t understand!” Ruby shot back, her blue eyes dark and blazing with temper. “I ain’t allowed to say ‘no’. She’s always threatenin’ me that she’s going to tell you, or ask you, and then you’re supposed to be mad at me an‘ we’re supposed to be fightin’ just like we are right now. This is what she wants! For you to be gettin’ on my case an’ makin’ me cry!” And sure enough, there were tears in Ruby’s eyes.<br />
<br />
Ben shook his head, sighing as he scrubbed at his black hair with both of his hands. He took a deep breath, calming himself, then shook his head and looked back up at his wife. He was about to say something when he heard a small knock at the door. He turned to it, then opened it slowly to find his younger daughter, blue eyes wide, dark hair mussed. “Are you guys fightin’?” she asked, looking from Ben to Ruby and then back to Ben. “I don’t like it when you fight.”<br />
<br />
“We ain’t fightin’, sweetpea,” Ben told his daughter. He bent to kiss her cheek, then squeezed her shoulder. “Go on back to bed, baby. I’ll be in to tuck you back up in a little bit. I gotta talk to Mama about somethin’. Don’t you worry about a thing. We ain’t fightin’.”<br />
<br />
Clarissa paused a moment in the door, then nodded her head and turned around. Ben waited until she had gone all the way to her room, and watched as she closed the door behind her, then he closed his own bedroom door and turned back to his wife.<br />
<br />
“I don’t contradict you, Ruby. If you tell her no, then I don’t tell her yes on purpose. If she asks me, an’ I don’t know you told her no, then I might say yes. That’s a communication problem between us. Maybe we need to talk about everythin’ before we say yes or no. If that’s the case, so be it. That’s fine. But she ain’t gonna get a different answer from me than she got from you unless you ain’t tellin’ me what you’re tellin’ her.<br />
<br />
“But this ain’t about Charlie. This is about you, an’ the things that you said to our daughter. I don’t ever wanna hear you raisin’ your voice to her like that again, an’ the next time that she tells me that you’re sayin’ things about her friends like that -- things that ain’t warrented, Ruby -- then we’re gonna be havin’ a much more serious discussion than what I got planned tonight. You understand me, young lady?”<br />
<br />
“What do you have planned?” <br />
<br />
Ruby’s voice was nervous, and Ben stepped forward, putting his hands on his wife’s shoulders and pulling her to him in a tight hug, then whispered in her ear, “I’m going to spank your bottom until it’s good and hot.” He nipped her ear, then pulled back from her and went to sit down on the bed. He patted his lap. “Come on, little girl. Let’s get that skirt up, those panties down, and see how pink we can get your bottom for you. Maybe next time Charlie’s pushin’ at you, you won’t take the bait.” He cleared his throat, hoping that his wife would take the lesson this time, so that he wouldn’t have to fight with her the next time. What was coming, the part where she bared her backside and, he hoped, went willingly over his lap... Well, that part was rather exciting, as he saw it.<br />
<br />
Even before the objections started, Ben could sense them. He shook his head and reached for his wife’s hand. She didn’t enjoy this nearly as much as he did, and that, he thought, was part of the point, and part of why he enjoyed it as much as he did. He tugged her close to him, then slowly began to raise her skirt. “If you won’t do it, Ruby, I will,” he told his wife as he slowly got her skirt all the way up, then tucked it up into the waistband. It was long, and still provided some protection, but he had sufficient room to reach under it and tug down her panties. She was wearing one of those black lacy numbers that did things to him, and he shifted, trying to ease the tightness in his jeans. With only a momentary second thought, he unbuttoned his own jeans, adjusted himself, and then tugged her panties down. “Might as well take these off,” he said, smiling up at Ruby. “I don’t think that you’re going to be needing them when I’m done.” He guided them down to her ankles, then helped her step out of them, waiting while she toed off her shoes.<br />
<br />
When Ruby was sufficiently undressed, Ben guided his wife down and over his lap. He adjusted her position, giving her a bit more “wiggle room” than he had done with Charlie, and then he slowly ran his hand up her right thigh, gripping the firm, solid flesh there and then slowly pushing her skirt up over her hips. He gathered what was left of it in his left hand, then pinned her down over his lap. “Just my hand today. But another argument like this with either of the girls an’ I’m gonna tell you that it’ll be your hairbrush. Don’t test me on this, Ruby.” <br />
<br />
Ben rested his hand on his wife’s bottom, spending a moment just feeling it. He liked to do this, to tease her, spending a few moments before he started by massaging the flesh a little bit. He felt that this made her more tender in this area, causing his spanking to have better results. He wanted her blood flowing, in more ways than one. He casually ran his hand back down her right thigh, then up her left, letting his fingers explore where her legs had parted just slightly to give him access. “Wet already?” Ben said. He tutted, then shook his head. “I guess you’re ready to start then, aren’t you?”<br />
<br />
“No!” Ruby cried, but Ben just laughed softly and raised his hand, bringing it down with a resounding smack on his wife’s tender, pink bottom. The massaging had done what he wanted it to, acted as a warm up, getting her bottom ready for what was coming to it. He didn’t stop at just one smack, but he brought his hand down on the other cheek, letting his fingers wrap around her right hip. <br />
<br />
“You have such a pretty bottom,” Ben told his wife, raising his hand and bringing it down harder on her left cheek again. “And it is truly lovely when it’s all nice and pink and squirming over my lap.” He was already slightly uncomfortable where she was laying on him, now fully hard, but he coughed slightly and shook his head. He wasn’t going to deny his wife the discipline just because he was a little bit uncomfortable. Instead, he applied himself to earnestly spanking her bottom, now working quickly, his hand racing up and down, the flesh trembling beneath his hand. Ruby wasn’t moving much yet, and he wanted her there, where she was squirming and just beginning to fight him. That was the point at which he liked to stop...<br />
<br />
Just as Ben was starting to think about what he would like to do to his wife, she began to squirm, crying out with her protests. “Oh, so you want me to stop?” Ben asked his wife. “You’d like me to stop spanking you?” He gave her two more very hard smacks of his hand, then he stopped, resting his hand on her bottom for just a moment and then slowly letting it stroke downward, parting her cheeks and gently brushing against her trembling asshole. He could feel the shuddering breath that Ruby took beneath him, her legs spreading a little bit to give him better access, and then he gave the little brown hole a light flick of his finger. “Eager beaver, aren’t you?” Ben asked, shaking his head teasingly. “I’m not done by a long shot, Ruby.”<br />
<br />
Tutting again, Ben raised his hand and continued on with the spanking. Ruby started to squirm again almost instantly, wiggling over his lap as she fought to avoid the slaps of his hand. He had to smile. Their daughters did better than Ruby did a lot of the time, and he thought that maybe she squirmed special just for him because she knew that he liked it when she wiggled over his lap. It was for that reason that Ben really began to apply himself, this time using his hand to smack down hard on Ruby’s thighs, leaving dark pink handprints immediately. “I’m not spankin’ you for fun,” he reminded his wife. “This is to remind you to think before you go yellin’ at our daughter. We’ll see about makin’ you feel better once it’s over an’ done, but for right now, this is what happens when you wanna go actin’ like you’re the teenager in this family. I ain’t havin’ it, Ruby Nery, an’ you should be knowin’ better than what you been doin’!”<br />
<br />
That stopped the struggles, and now Ben could hear the deep sobs of regret coming from his wife. He sighed and laid a good, hard half dozen to her sit spots, then he stopped, resting his hand on her bottom again, feeling he heat radiating off of it. “I hear about this again an’ it’ll be your hairbrush, an’ nothin’ after. You hear me?” he asked. He was still aroused, but he wanted to make sure that his wife was clear that this was a punishment.<br />
<br />
Through her sobs Ruby replied with a weak, “Yes Sir.”<br />
<br />
Ben nodded his head with a smile and gently turned his wife in his lap, tugging her skirt down and then cuddling her in his lap. He kissed her head, then held her tightly to him. “I love you, Ruby. An’ I love our girls. You’re gonna start doin’ better with Charlie or we’re gonna be doin’ a lot of this an’ you know it.” Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard, parting her lips with his tongue and exploring her mouth aggressively. Slowly he leaned her back on the bed, smiling when she hissed as her bottom came into contact with the mattress. “Serves you right,” he said, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and then starting to tug it down. He kissed her belly, then looked up at her. “An’ if you think you’re sore now... I’m tellin’ you, Ruby.”<br />
<br />
“I know,” Ruby said breathlessly. “Can we just... Move on?”<br />
<br />
“Gladly,” Ben said with a grin as he pulled his wife’s skirt off and slowly spread her knees, dipping his head to kiss her tender feminine folds. He breathed in the scent of his aroused wife, and reminded himself that in the end, it was always worth it.</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-27103226801502288352010-08-11T07:59:00.000-07:002010-08-11T07:59:47.835-07:00Foster Forest (16): As Seen in the Mirror<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'm telling!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">At a place like <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>, the sound of those words carried throughout the nearby area, and Cody looked up from where he was standing at the "playground" next to Carly. His eyes narrowed as he raised a hand to his brow and looked toward the porch. The little boy, Jackson, was cornered, his back against the wall of the house, and Lizzie had a wild look about her, from what Carly could see.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She'd been at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place> for a grand total of three days. The atmosphere in the house during that time had been strange. Cody had spent two days in his room, not talking to anybody, and Peter seemed quiet after the first night's dinner. She and Felicity were in Feliticy's room when they'd heard a spanking happening on their floor, and that only left Lizzie. The younger girl seemed to have been strangely hateful in the few days that had followed. Quiet and broody, she refused her meals in spite of being made to sit at the table, and she wouldn't speak to anybody. It seemed to Carly that Lizzie had been doing a lot of chores over the past couple of days, and she never seemed to catch a break. She almost felt bad that she'd had some time to sit out here and chat with the fourteen year old for a while instead of helping inside the house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">So far Felicity had kept herself out of trouble, and Carly was relieved. She didn't have to step in and try to mediate or explain her sister, and she didn't have to try to get Felicity to stop before she made matters worse with her big mouth. How many times had Carly stood up to calm Felicity down before she did something she would regret? And now the twelve year-old knew that her older sister harbored a lot of regrets, now that their father was gone, the victim of his own handgun. The thought of it all made Carly shiver. She thought Felicity might still be in shock, since she'd hardly said anything since the night she found their father's body in his office. Carly knew that Felicity would never be the same. Neither of them would be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Busybody!" Cody said next to her. "I guess you know what she's like." He glanced at her, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "Betsy. You've met her, right?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly frowned slightly, squinting in the direction of the house as she had done a moment before. "You mean Lizzie? Sure. I met her the day I got here," she said. "She's okay."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Busybody," Cody grumbled again. "I'm going to go see what's going on and try to keep the kid out of trouble. Whatever he's done, she's gonna make it sound like it's a lot worse than it is, and I'd hate to see him get in trouble for something he didn't do, or something that's not that big a deal," he said with a shrug.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody darted off across the yard so quickly that Carly took a moment to realize what was happening. She leaped off the swing and jogged toward him. His movements were stiff, but he was quick, and there was a redness around his ears that she recognized. Carly put her hand on Cody's arm and gave him a gentle tug to pull him back. "What's going on?" she asked with concern. If he was anything like Felicity, there was about to be some serious trouble, and Carly didn't want to have to watch while Cody got his butt spanked. She'd already heard one of Lizzie's, and she didn't want to hear another.</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p><a name='more'></a></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Betsy!" Cody snapped. The ten year-old turned her head when she head the diminutive of her name called, and Carly's cheeks grew hot as she turned her face back to Cody. "She's always got something up her sleeve, always has her nose in somebody else's business, and somebody else is always getting in trouble because of her meddling. She's going to go in there and tell Mr. Peter that the kid did... whatever, and then he's going to get a spanking. Guess who will make it off without any trouble?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Maybe you should mind your own business," Lizzie spat as Carly and Cody reached the porch together. "I wasn't talking to you or about you so shut up!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What is wrong with you?" Before Carly could stop him, Cody was hovering over Lizzie, and the ten year-old was backed up against the wall the same as Jackie had been just a moment ago. "Can't you have fun without getting somebody else's butt whipped for no goddamned reason? What the hell is your problem?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You're my problem!" Lizzie spat back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly quickly got between the two warring residents, pushing Cody back slightly and then pulling Lizzie by her arm so that she wasn't cornered. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, free from his cornered position, sped around them and into the house. There were tears on his face, and Carly could hardly blame him for wanting to be out of there as quickly as possible. The hostility was quite apparent, and it made her heart beat far too fast. She didn't like this, not one little bit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Calm down," Carly said, trying to remain rational. Her voice was cool, but her hands were shaking as she put them back down at her sides. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly opened her mouth to ask what happened, but before she could say anything Cody piped up, "Yeah, well you're just a little bitch who likes to get other people in trouble instead of minding her own business."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Stop!" Carly cried, but before she could speak her own mind, Peter Grisson allowed the screen door to slam behind him as he came out onto the porch and put his hands on his hips. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What is going on here?" Peter asked. His voice was stern, and Carly took a step back. Cody moved immediately away from the blonde-haired man, and Lizzie looked up at him with wide brown eyes. Her cheeks were red, and when Carly glanced at Cody, he was white as a sheet. "Well?" Peter asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Excuse me sir," Carly said. She looked up and met Peter's steely blue eyes as they locked on her, and she felt a shudder go down her spine. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the approach of Becky, and she glanced over at her for a moment. The presence of both adults made her feel cornered, and Carly had to force herself to stay in place instead of stepping back and out of the line of fire. "They were just... Uh... disagreeing with one another," she said, her eyes focusing on the young redheaded woman who had joined them on the porch. "It wasn't a big deal," she added, though she realized that it was almost pointless. From the expression on Peter's face, he had already decided the outcome of this situation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What happened?" Becky asked, her eyes focused on Peter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I don't know," he told her, keeping his eyes on Carly. "Carly was just saying that these two were having a disagreement, but <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> came into the house to get me, saying that Lizzie was yelling at him and threatening him about something. It was hard to understand, he was crying."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky crossed her arms over her chest and looked at each child in turn, then turned her attention back to Cody. "Cody," she said in a soft tone. "What happened?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The teenager just shrugged, and Becky shook her head. Her eyes focused on Lizzie, and she repeated her question. "<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>, what happened?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was snacking," Lizzie said, her voice snapping with sass. Carly winced and took a step back, surprised to hear the ten year-old talking to a grownup that way, but she pressed her own lips together to keep quiet. Why was it any of Lizzie's business whether or not <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had food? "He was eating a cookie," Lizzie added, looking up at Peter as though she hoped for some help from him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"So Betsy started yelling at him and had him all shoved up in the corner," Cody chimed in, then shut his mouth, his cheeks turning a deep crimson as he turned his head away instead of meeting any of the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>multiple pairs of eyes on him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie's hands clenched into fists as she stared at Cody. "Stop calling me Betsy!" she cried loudly. There were tears in her eyes, and the little girl turned on her heels and stormed off into the house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Great," Peter muttered, shaking his head. He turned toward Carly. "Well? What's your part in all this?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly's mouth felt like she had cotton wool shoved in it. She swallowed, then moistened her lips and finally looked up into his pale blue eyes. "I was trying to get them to stop fighting sir," she said. She gave a small dip of her head, wishing that she was anywhere but here, being questioned by one of the grownups. Authority never sat well with her, and even the mildest of scoldings could<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cause her to tremble. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky's hand fell on her shoulder, and Carly turned her head to look at the woman, who was giving her a reassuring smile. She relaxed slightly as Becky put her hand on Cody's shoulder. "Come on everybody. Let's go into the house and we'll talk about this in there. It sounds like things got a little bit out of hand out here, and it's time for us to start working on supper. Peter, you're cooking tonight, right?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"He called me a witch!" Lizzie cried as Cody passed her and headed into the house, his head down. Carly was right behind him, but she caught it when the younger girl added, "with a B!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Into the house," Becky said briskly, and then Carly was joining Cody in the Great Room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody leaned against the fireplace and crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't believe her!" he muttered, shaking his head. He looked up as the front door opened and the ten year-old followed them in with Peter close behind her. Lizzie flopped down on the couch nearby and Carly gave her a long, appraising look and then went to stand next to Cody in an effort to show him her support. He had been right: Lizzie needed to keep to her own business and not put her nose where it didn't belong. Everybody, it seemed, got along better when there wasn't somebody to stir the pot. She'd learned that last year in school. Unfortunately she was the one others felt was stirring the pot that year.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Once they were all gathered, Becky stepped into the middle of the loose circle they had formed. Even Jackson wandered over and sat down on the far end of the couch, staying as far away from Lizzie as he could while still sitting down. "Alright," Becky said, her tone stern as she looked around at the gathered faces. First of all, Jackson: Lizzie says that you were eating a cookie. Where did you get it?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little boy flushed slightly and looked at Lizzie, then pleadingly at Becky. It was obvious that he thought he was going to be in major trouble, and there were already tears in his eyes. "There was a pack of cookies on the top of the refrigerator. I like the lemon ones," he said in a small voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky nodded curtly. "Alright, then you've had your dessert for the week and while the others have theirs on Friday night, you will get none. And I won't forget," she added, giving the little boy a stern look. Then she turned her attention to Cody. "Did you use the B-word?" Becky asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the teenager.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody looked pale, but he nodded his head slightly, keeping his blue eyes locked on Becky's gaze. "Yes ma'am," he said. His voice broke on the second word, but he cleared his throat and kept his composure. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky turned toward Peter. "Peter, show Cody where the poster board and the permanent markers are. It's time, I think, for our rules to get a re-write." Turning back to Cody, she went on. "I want the rules re-written on poster board in clear block lettering. If I can't read it, you'll have to do it again. On the original, I want you to underline the rules you broke. We'll discuss this later. Sitting down," she added finally, and Cody visibly relaxed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Finally she looked at Carly. "What was your part in this?" she asked, her voice still firm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly felt her cheeks grow hot as Jackson, Lizzie and Becky watched her. Peter and Cody were headed off into the kitchen, and she watched them go, unable to meet the green eyed stare of her guardian. "I was trying to get everybody calmed down and to stop fighting. I didn't want anybody to be in trouble," she said weakly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky nodded. "Alright. Jackie, why don't you go find some toys to play with?" she asked, gesturing to the box that was off to one side of the fireplace. "Lizzie, go up to your room. I need to talk to you about some things. Carly, you're free to go," she added. "You might go find your sister. I haven't seen her at all today," she added, then turned as though to follow Cody and Peter into the kitchen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Why do I have to go to my room?" Lizzie huffed, even as the got up and followed behind Carly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The twelve year old could hear the heavy footsteps on the stairs behind her, and she turned her head over her shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak but then quickly shut it again, reminding herself that it was none of her business what was going on with Lizzie. Whatever choices the younger girl made, they were hers to make, including the consequences that went along with them. Then, thinking twice, she said, "You must not have very many friends." At the top of the stairs they both went to their rooms, and Carly left hers open as she sat down on the bed with her legs crossed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She didn't feel like talking to Fissy. It wasn't that she didn't like her sister: she did. But even before their father died Felicity had been a pain to live with. Now she didn't talk much at all, but when she did it was an outburst of sudden, angry emotion. She hadn't turned on anybody since they'd been here, but it was because of the anger problems that their aunt could no longer handle them. If it wasn't for that, they'd still be with family, and Carly would have felt a lot more secure.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Pulling her diary out from under her pillow, Carly turned to her current page and grabbed her pen. For a long time she just sat there, staring at the blank page in front of her. She had no idea what she should write down, or what she was feeling at that moment. Her overwhelming thought was that Lizzie didn't like her (or anyone) very much at all, and she worried that Cody was going to withdraw from her now too. He was in trouble, and she couldn't help but feel as though that was somehow her fault. Honestly it was only her and Felicity who had skated by without a problem that day, and she wondered at that for a moment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly's pen was about to touch the paper when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Instinctively she snapped the book shut and craned her neck, watching as Becky headed into Lizzie's room across the hall. She left the door standing wide open, and Carly's cheeks grew warm as she realized that she (and perhaps Felicity too) were about to become privy to what might otherwise by a private conversation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Did you hear what that new girl said to me?" Lizzie was raging across the hall. "She's so stupid! She says she thinks that I probably don't have any friends at all. I hate her!" the ten year-old snapped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly's ears became even hotter, and she quietly slipped off her bed and crept to her door. From there she could see into Lizzie's bedroom, though the only things visible across the hall were the ten year-old's dresser and the small, empty bookshelf there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," Becky's voice said gently. "If you don't change the way that you relate to the other people who live here, you may find out that she's right." There was a pause and Carly could hear some shuffling noises from inside the room across the hall. Quietly she crept out of her room and moved so that she could just see what was going on. If Becky or Lizzie looked in her direction, she would be caught, but she breathed shallowly in the hopes that neither would have a reason to look toward her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"But I didn't do anything wrong!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> protested. Becky's hands were on the waistband of her jeans and she was tugging the ten year-old toward her. Carly shivered as she remembered what it felt like when her father did that to her, but it was fascinating to watch it happen to another girl, especially one who was younger than her. Her blue eyes widened as Becky's long, slender fingers unhooked the button and then pushed the zipper down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky sighed, and her shoulders heaved visibly. Her head rose and she looked <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> in the eyes. Her brow twitched into a frown and then back to a neutral expression. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, I can't think of any other way to get it through to you that you are hurting other people, and that ultimately that's going to hurt you as well. I could ground you, but then you get what you want: the opportunity to be alone. I could give you extra chores, but you fight me at every turn with the jobs that I give you, and we'd wind up right here in the end anyway. I don't have any privileges to take away from you since you burned all of your own books." There was a pause, and then Becky sighed. "I could allow the natural consequences of your actions to catch up with you," she said, her voice gentle. She reached out and touched Lizzie's cheek and then dropped her hand again. "But I don't think that would be fair," she finished. "Already Cody doesn't trust you and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> is afraid of you. It won't be long before Carly and Felicity catch up with them. If I can help you change first and avoid you hurting more later on, I'm going to do that."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Then the talking was over for at least another moment as Becky pushed <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s jeans down all the way to her ankles. She sat back again and regarded <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> for a long time. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It hadn't been apparent before that Elizabeth was crying, but now the slender shoulders shook and the brunette ten year-old shook her head from side to side, her ponytail bobbing. "I didn't do anything wrong," she choked half heartedly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky sighed again and reached down to push Lizzie's panties down the way of her jeans. The ten year-old started to look toward the door, and Carly took a quick step backward so that she was out of sight. She couldn't see anything now, but she was sure that the younger girl hadn't seen her standing there. "Can't you close the door?" the little girl asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No," Becky said. "The boys aren't going to be on this floor at all and I think that it will do some good for the girls to be able to hear you getting your bottom spanked. For one thing, I think you upset Carly earlier. For another, Carly came very close today to the line you crossed," she said in a stern voice that made the twelve year-old wonder whether or not she knew she was standing there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Carly quietly crept across the hall and back to her own room, where she stood near the door to listen to what was going on in the other room. In spite of herself, she was more than a little bit curious as to what a spanking meant at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Her father had always been very strict, but he was also very kind and incredibly loving with both of his daughters, even when Felicity had one of her tantrums. Carly didn't know what she was expecting, except that she hoped that Ms. Becky was the same. Though she felt she was too old to want it so much, she hoped that the woman loved the children in her care as much as her father loved her and her sister.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The woman's voice was kind, and her demeanor had always been kind as far as Carly was concerned, but she'd only been there a couple of days. She couldn't talk to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>; the younger girl alienated everybody who tried to get close to her, that much was very obvious already to Carly. She didn't want to talk to Cody about it because he seemed to be bitter, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was just so... Happy go lucky. She couldn't imagine him seeing anything as it really was. Instead, she thought he would probably gush about how great Ms. Becky and Mr. Peter were even if they fed him gruel every night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Listening in on another child's punishment was proof of nothing. The real proof would come if Carly was ever in the position that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> found herself in now. She planned on staying off the laps of the grownups, but even Carly was known to make an occasional mistake, and that would be when she would really get to know what Becky or Peter were like. She'd learned things about her father during punishments that she'd never wanted to know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The first smacks could be heard a moment later, and Carly winced. She was sure that Becky was using something wood, and something wide at that. No wooden spoons, at least not for this spanking. Wood, and hairbrushes in particular, seemed to make a peculiar popping sound when they were used. She'd heard one time and again when Daddy spanked Felicity with her own hairbrush. Carly felt hot around the collar when she remembered listening in on those sessions between Daddy and her older sister. She breathed deeply for a moment, and then shifted her focus back to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s spanking. Her head was hanging halfway out the door, and then her eyes caught sight of the mirror above the dresser. Surprised that she hadn't noticed it before, Carly checked her position to make sure she couldn't be seen, and then turned back to the mirror. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In the reflective glass she could see everything. Becky's shoulders were stiff. Her body was tight as she tucked the ten year old up against her body. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was already squirming with her legs kicking out behind her, and her hands were gripping the comforter tightly. Becky scolded the ten year-old to lie still and take the punishment that she deserved. "If you can't lie still and take this, I will pin you down and it's going to wind up being a lot worse. Not because I want it to be, but because when you make it hard for me I can't focus the way that I want to. So calm down and be still!" The woman's voice was sharp, but not unkind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She'd only given the little girl three solid pops to her backside with the wooden hairbrush, but already <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s backside was becoming quite pink. Carly pressed her palms to her cheeks to feel the heat there, and shifted her weight at the strange feeling in her belly. She swallowed several times and wet her lips, finally turning her attention back to the mirror. Becky had the ten year-old pinned down now, and was applying the brush again in brisk, crisp strokes. Carly was fascinated by the way that the woman snapped her wrist down. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>'s bottom responded accordingly by turning a shade of pink, and Becky<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>moved on to covering other areas of the slender, trembling buttocks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> was crying, of course. She'd started even before she'd gone over Becky's knee, but now she was really sobbing, and she had pulled the comforter off the end of the bed and fed it up between her hands. Her face was buried deep in the purple fabric. "No!" she cried, shaking her head from side to side. Carly could see all of it in the mirror. "I wuh-won't..." she squealed, twisting her body over the correctional lap. "Not again! I wuh-won't!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No, you won't," Becky said. "If you do I hope you know that this spanking is going to be the least of your worries. I won't talk to you about this again, but I hope that this is enough to remind you that respecting the other residents of this home is about a lot more than the rules, and is for your benefit as well as for them."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Nuh-no!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> cried, but the spanking continued briskly, and she dissolved into sobs. Speaking was too difficult during a spanking. Carly knew that much from her experience with her father and later with her overly strict aunt. She cringed as the mirror showed <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s bottom turning to a darker pink. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">With her face hot, Carly withdrew to her own room. She'd seen enough and heard enough, and she had things to think about herself. She closed the door behind her and went to sit down on her bed. Her own bottom was tingling, and she drew her legs up under her, putting her diary in her lap and picking up her pen. Now she had plenty to write about...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-81293835949260715912010-08-10T09:01:00.001-07:002010-08-10T09:01:52.543-07:00Foster Forest (15): Mistakes They Made<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie glared at the two girls who stood next to their social worker in the front room. Ms Becky seemed to be talking comfortably with the young woman with the black hair, and the smaller of the two girls was looking around the room, her blue eyes wide as she took in everything that the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place> home had to offer. They were pretty, and both girls had the same dark, dark brown hair and blue eyes. The older girl was quite tall; in fact, she was taller than Ms. Becky, and very slender as well. She might be mistaken for a grown women if she had the curves that came with adulthood. The younger girl was petite, not much taller than Lizzie was herself. Her hair was shorter, cropped close to her head in a very grown up style that the ten year old didn't particularly like. The older one's hair fell close to her waist in twin braids. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">At once Lizzie didn't like them. For one thing, she didn't like the way that the older girl was dressed. Her skirt was too short and she was wearing a blouse with a neckline that showed off the little swell of her budding breasts. The younger one wouldn't have been so bad except that she kept staring at everything as though she was in awe. Worse, Becky was smiling at both of them from ear to ear and spending time talking to the social worker. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The founder of The Forest had been so irritable lately that Lizzie had just been avoiding her, though that was nothing new. The home without books, however, caused the ten year-old to branch out more and seek other things to do. There was nothing to read since the fire that had consumed all of the books from the library, so she'd been forced to play outside with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> on the new playground equipment and even to spend time with Peter cleaning up the kitchen and scrubbing down windowsills and baseboards. It was boring and it was tedious and there were things she would much rather be doing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">It was bad enough that nearly the past week had been spent with Cody in a bad mood because of nightly punishments. Lizzie wasn't supposed to know about that, but she heard the grown ups talking often enough, and she'd caught on. Cody was in big trouble for the book burning, and before that for the stuff that he'd had on his computer, before that got taken away too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie hated Cody. She would have been indifferent if he hadn't risked taking his laptop into the library that day while she was reading. The images on the screen were so disgusting, and they reminded her of how much it had hurt. At first Cody scared her, and she'd thought that maybe he would be just like the one guy, the guy who had called her Beth. To make matters worse, Cody was insistent on calling her Betsy, which not only rubbed her the wrong way but it also reminded her of being called Bethy, which was a name reserved for those special occasions when he... </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Blinking several times rapidly, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> brought herself back to the present. She stood up from where she had been sitting at the bottom of the stairs watching and eavesdropping and went into the kitchen. Peter had been through earlier, scrubbing everything in a mad fury, and the usual lock was on the fridge to keep <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> out. She sighed, bored out of her mind. She couldn't even eat when she was in one of these moods! Lizzie glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly four o'clock. Dinner would be ready in an hour anyway. In the meantime, there wasn't much to do. Cody was in the Great Room and she was pretty sure she'd seen <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> follow him in there. She didn't want to be near the two of them, and she wasn't in the mood to go wandering around outside. She only hoped that perhaps Peter was at the bookstore buying the things on her list so that she'd have something new and different to do. One more day of cleaning and she thought she might crack.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Liz!" Becky called, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> felt a flood of relief rush through her as she trotted out into the entrance to see what her guardian wanted. The social worker, she noticed, was gone, leaving only Becky and the two girls, with Cody and Jackson off in the other part of the room. She put on her best smile, beaming up at the older girl and then the younger, the one she thought might be a year or so older than her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Hi," she said, turning her attention up to Becky. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Lizzie, this is Felicity," Becky said, gesturing toward the older girl. Felicity just gave Lizzie a "look" and rolled her eyes away, crossing her arms over her chest. It was obvious that she wasn't in a position to be particularly friendly to the ten year old, and Lizzie just gave her a snotty look right back. "And this is Carly," Becky went on, acting as though nothing had happened.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p><a name='more'></a> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">When <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> turned her attention to Carly, the other girl was smiling, her blue eyes twinkling. Lizzie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. What was the big deal, anyway? Hadn't this kid ever seen someone near enough to her own age? As though she didn't see the rolling eyes and evil looks the three girls were giving one another, Becky put her hand on Lizzie's back. "I thought you could show Carly to her room while I get Felicity settled in," Becky suggested. "She's going to be in number six, right across from you. Do you think you could do that for me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">More chores. That was the only thing that Lizzie could think. It hadn't taken very long for Becky to show her true nature, pushing the children into the slave labor that she'd found was common in foster homes. Peter and his incessant cleaning, and Becky with her insistence that everybody "get along." It wasn't Lizzie's style, and she resented it. Instead of saying that to Becky, however, she shrugged her shoulders and said "sure." No point in risking getting punished over something so stupid, and it wasn't like there was anything better to do. She was hardly going to go hang out with Cody and the fat kid.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Cody Aaron, I'm going to get Felicity settled into her room," Becky said. "I want that grate to be completely cleaned out before supper. You know what happens afterward."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Though her back was turned, Lizzie turned her head around and craned her neck to see the red flush rise to the back of Cody's neck. She smiled to herself and nodded her head with satisfaction, because she also knew what was coming next. Though she was certain that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> didn't have a clue, and of course the new girls were in the dark, Lizzie still took a great deal of pleasure in Cody's pain. As far as she was concerned, he deserved every lick that he got from Mr. Peter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Yes ma'am," she heard his reply, and then she started toward the stairs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"So... Are you gonna give me a tour or what?" the dark haired girl said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie blinked several times as she tried to remember the girl's name. Carla? She was good with names but she'd only heard it once, and the name didn't sit well with her for some reason. "You mean... Like show you were everything is? Ms. Becky only said to show you where number six was so that you could get your stuff unpacked. I guess it's already up there, cuz I don't see any bags."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"That guy took them up," the girl said, looking over her shoulder in the direction the two had just come. "You know, the one who's cleaning the fireplace. He took my bags up. Ms. Becky asked him to."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie shrugged. That must have happened before she'd come down the stairs. All she knew was that Cody wasn't supposed to be on the girls' floor. She'd make sure to mention something about that at dinner. Maybe his punishment would be extended out even further. She couldn't heard the spankings, but it was enough to know that he was getting it. One day he wore shorts and she was pretty sure she'd seen a mark on his legs. "He's not supposed to be on our floor," Lizzie said importantly as she started up the stairs. "The girls stay on the second floor and the boys stay on the third floor. Ms. Becky calls them the first floor and the second floor, just so you know. I think it's cuz she's not from here, you know, originally. I think she's from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region> or something like that. Anyway, we aren't allowed to go on the second floor and the boys aren't allowed on our floor. But if they come on our floor, you aren't allowed to hit them or anything. Just go and get Ms. Becky," Lizzie added, remembering the time that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had shown up in the bathroom while she was taking a shower. She'd smacked him in the mouth, and they'd both wound up getting spanked for it. The memory made her cheeks heat up, and she turned her head away to hide her expression. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">A moment later Lizzie and Carly were standing outside the door to number six. Lizzie had never been inside, and when she pushed the door open, she was somewhat displeased to notice that the room was just as nicely decorated as her own. She didn't have very<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>many personal things to make the room "hers" and so far nobody had offered to get her any of the things she so very much wanted and needed. The best thing would have been to have her own book shelf where she could put books that had her name written on the inside. But things, the special "effects" that other children had, were mostly given to them by parents, and her parents had been dead for almost as long as she could remember. Reflecting, Lizzie counted in her head. Yes, six years they had been gone, and she could no longer quite remember her Papa's face, and the last picture she'd had was long gone now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Okay, well this is it," Lizzie said. Not wanting to hang around and chit chat, she turned to go, but Carly's voice called her back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Do you like Ms. Becky?" Carly was asking as she dragged a suitcase up onto the bed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie stared at the suitcase with some jealousy. She'd come with some old plastic bags. Not in the mood for conversation, she just shrugged her shoulders. "She's really strict," she said. She didn't want to talk about the spankings, especially if it let on that she'd gotten more than what she thought of as her fair share. It was embarrassing enough that she'd gotten any at all, but sharing that kind of information seemed as though it was crossing a personal line.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Carly shrugged. "My dad was pretty strict, too. I didn't get in trouble much, but just last month Fissy was in his office screaming her head off because he took a switch to her." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"A..." Lizzie shook her head, not sure that she wanted to know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"You know, a switch. Like a branch off a tree used for a spanking. When you're really bad. I think Fissy took the car or something. She doesn't have her license yet. Have you been here long?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie shrugged her shoulders again. "No. Three months. I been lots of other places. Some of them I stayed longer, some of them not so long," she said, tracing her fingers over the pattern on the bedspread.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"This is my first place," Carly said. "My dad died last month and we were staying with our aunt but she couldn't handle Fissy. I think she's been drinking. Felicity. I call her Fissy. I think she's been getting into the liquor cabinet and... Well, she was getting in a lot of trouble."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie looked up, impressed. Her eyebrows raised a little bit, and she had to force the expression off her face in an effort to look casual again. "There's no liquor here," she said seriously. "Ms. Becky wouldn't let it, and I think Cody would probably drink all of it anyway. He's the one who was cleaning out the fireplace," she added quickly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"You don't like him," Carly said perceptively.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Nope," Lizzie said. "But I gotta get downstairs. It's almost supper time and I been helping Ms. Becky make the food and set the table. She's probably got your sister all set up and ready to go anyway. Maybe you can talk to her and get her to help you unpack." It crossed Lizzie's mind a moment later that perhaps Felicity was doing her own unpacking, and she wasn't sure where she'd been placed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">She shrugged and started for the door. "Ms. Becky will call you for dinner," she said. She opened her mouth to offer to talk more after supper, but then she shut it again. There wasn't any point in saying something she didn't mean. It would just get her cornered by the new girl later on, and she didn't feel like talking to her anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie found Becky in the kitchen, just putting the macaroni casserole into the oven. It would be about twenty minutes before supper was ready, and she set about putting the silverware on the kitchen table, careful to add two place settings at each of the two new chairs. Soon enough if there were any more residents they were going to have to move into the semi-formal dining room for their meals. The idea wasn't appealing to Lizzie, who had gotten used to being able to sit close to Peter when he joined them (which was often lately), but she recognized that she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"What do you think of Carly?" Becky asked as she pulled glasses down from the cupboard and began to set them out on the table. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie shrugged. "She's okay." She couldn't understand why grownups felt the need to talk about these things. As though they were going to be instant friends or something like that, just because they were close in age. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">As though echoing her thoughts, Becky said, "I thought the two of you might be friends. She's twelve years old and she just lost her father last month."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Right. Because Lizzie could so relate to somebody who had lost their father just last month. She could hardly remember her own, except that she'd called him "Papa" and he was the first person to ever call her Liz or Lizzie. She'd had six years to convince herself that she didn't feel an empty pit whenever she thought of him or whenever she saw other kids with their fathers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie had never been relieved to see Cody before, but when the two boys burst into the kitchen, covered in soot, she breathed a sigh and slipped away from Becky. At least now maybe the conversation could end. She didn't like the new girls and she certainly didn't want to talk about them. There wasn't any point, they weren't going to be friends, and she didn't want to get to know them, either.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Hey Ms. Becky!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> said excitedly. He pounced toward her, throwing his arms around her waist and leaving a smear of black soot on the back of her blouse. Becky laughed and dropped a kiss onto his forehead before leveling her gaze on Cody.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I'm done," the older boy said. "If you want to check it..." he shrugged his shoulders. There was dirt on his shirt and he looked a mess. Lizzie wrinkled her nose. He smelled too, with the faint smell of old fire and smoke.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Okay," Becky said in a firm tone of voice. "Both of you head upstairs and get your clothes changed and wash up for supper. We're having macaroni and cheese with garlic bread tonight. About ten more minutes, so hurry up. Lizzie, go and get the other girls. I want to make sure they don't miss their first meal here. I tried to make it special."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The smile she cast on Lizzie was genuine, and the ten year old couldn't help but smile back, her brown eyes brightening slightly as she spun on her heel to go and fetch the other two girls. She raced up the stairs and just gave a brisk knock on each door, calling out to the girl inside that supper was ready in ten minutes and that they should wash up and come downstairs into the kitchen. Then she was off downstairs again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie slid into her seat next to where Peter always sat. He hadn't arrived yet, and that seemed rather unusual. Lately he'd been at dinner every night, and she knew from the quiet looks that passed between Becky and Peter that the punishments were happening once the meal was over, while Lizzie helped Becky clear the table and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> complained about not getting to have seconds or any dessert. Cody hadn't been coming to supper, but during the day the adults were keeping him so busy with chores lately that Lizzie only felt a little bit of resentment that he wasn't helping with the clearing up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;"> wasn't particularly planning on talking to anybody at supper that night. She didn't feel like socializing with the new girls, especially the chatty younger sister. Just because they were at the table together didn't mean that they had to talk to one another. Peter and Jackson were the two big talkers in the house, and usually Becky and Lizzie just sat back and listened. She didn't know how (or how much) the new girls were going to change the dynamic in the house, and it was on her mind when Cody came down the stairs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie rolled her eyes, though her interest piqued when Cody went to sit down at the table. She watched him as inconspicuously as she could, her eyes following his movements. He stared at the hard kitchen chair for a long moment and then slowly sat down. His face screwed up in a dramatic wince, and his face became red as he settled his weight onto his backside. She couldn't help but smirk as her suspicions (based on what she'd heard the grownups talking about) were confirmed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The two new girls weren't much behind Cody, and Lizzie turned her head to watch them enter. The older girl looked nervous, her blue eyes scanning the area rapidly, while the younger girl pulled out the chair next to Lizzie and sat right down. The ten year old rolled her eyes and bit her lip. The dark haired child seemed to get the point and was quiet, but the silence didn't last for long as Jackie and Peter strolled into the kitchen, chattering as was so common between them. Peter plunked down on Lizzie's other side, and Jackson went to his usual space, leaving an open seat for the older of the two new girls. She seemed to hesitate for a moment and then she sat down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Everyone looked at Becky expectantly, and she gave a gesture with her right hand. "Well? Food no good? Come on, eat up!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Dinner passed slowly for Lizzie. She didn't say much and in fact tried to stay out of the conversations that the others were having. Peter and Jackson talked for a while about how the little boy had been helping Cody with his punishment chores, and Lizzie perked up a bit when Peter shot Cody a scolding look that seemed to indicate that he shouldn't be getting the younger boy to help him with chores that were assigned as a punishment. Lizzie felt a hint of butterflies in her stomach, and she couldn't quite identify where they were coming from. She squirmed in her seat and glanced at Ms. Becky, who seemed to be watching her, and then back over at the older new girl, Fissy (that was what Carly had called her earlier). Fissy was just moving her food around on her plate and not eating much at all, and then she finally pushed it away and left the table.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky sighed, and it looked as though Peter was about to say something, but then he shut his mouth. "Nevermind," Becky said. "I'm done too," she added, picking up the plates and taking them to scrape and then rinse for the dish washer. "Come on, Lizzie, you can help me out. Carly, you too unless you have more unpacking to do."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I'll help," Carly said, joining Becky at the sink. "I can wash if somebody wants to dry."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"We have a washer," Becky said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Behind them, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was still chattering. Lizzie wasn't paying attention, though she thought she heard him say something to Peter about "c'mon, I'll show you!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">She turned around for a moment, shaking her head. Lizzie wished that she didn't have all the stupid after supper chores that she and Carly were doing right now. Cody seemed to do most of his stuff during the day, and now Fissy was being allowed to head off to her room, too. Only the most basic chores were done by the younger kids, with the teens doing the harder work. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was still too small to do much of anything at all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The work was done quickly with only three people, and Lizzie was about to head up to her room, where she kept a small notebook full of stories she wrote herself. Just as she reached the stairs, she heard Peter's voice saying something to Becky. She didn't register the words, and a moment later was in her room, settling in with her notebook and her pen to jot down her ideas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">***</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">With the girls headed up to their rooms to settle in for the quieter part of the evening, Becky popped a mug of water into the microwave to get hot so that she could enjoy her nightly cup of tea. A quiet time had naturally evolved in the house, especially over the past couple of weeks. Peter didn't get the same peace that she did, at least not when he was dealing with Cody's misbehavior, but she thought it helped all of them shift into the mindset of night time and going to bed. She'd tuck <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> in within the next hour and a half, and then Lizzie and Carly an hour later. The teens could stay up a bit later, though she liked to have the lights out by eleven. Without the television (even on the weekends), things were nice and calm around the house. She liked it that way.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">She was about to put the tea bag into the mug when Peter came into the kitchen. His face was red, and he pushed <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> along in front of him. "Becky, you need to hear what <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> just told me. I think there might be a problem with Cody. A big problem."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky groaned inwardly and put her cup down on the kitchen table, then slipped back into her seat and dunked the tea bag. She liked her tea black and strong, so she allowed it to steep and made a "come on" gesture at Peter, letting him know that he should hurry up and keep talking. He was eating up her valuable quiet time. Cody had already been such a big problem that it didn't surprise her that there was more going on, and she raised both of her eyebrows at Peter, waiting for him to explain.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place>, tell Ms. Becky what you told me," Peter said, pushing the boy forward gently.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The little boy looked from one adult to the other, a confused expression on his face. Whatever he was about to reveal, he didn't think it was that big a deal. "Umm... Cody was showin' me in the fireplace where there's the... The thingy that you pull to open the... thingy. He said it was stuck, but we cleaned up the whole fireplace real good. It's real clean now," he added, looking hopefully at Peter as though expecting praise.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"They did a good job," Peter said absently. When he met her eyes again, his blue eyes were steely and hard. "The 'thingy' that he showed me was the flue. When the fire started, nobody had opened the flue. The smoke was billowing out into the room. If Cody started the fire, I'd say he'd have opened the flue rather than risking us all smoking out."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"That's what he said it was!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> said triumphantly. "The flue!"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky wasn't sure that she was following Peter's train of thought. They'd been through this. She was outside with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> when the fire was started. There was no way that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was the culprit. Peter had been in the kitchen (and besides, she trusted him not to do something so stupid). Lizzie loved the books that had been burned, so she was out. That left Cody, who also had a motive to start the fire himself. Lizzie was the whistleblower who had gotten him in trouble for the pornography on his computer (and for having the computer online). "Okay... and?" she said, confused.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"He denied setting the fire, Becky. The flue was closed if the smoke was billowing into the room. Anyone who has half a brain (and Cody does) would have opened the flue before starting the fire so that the smoke wouldn't come back into their faces. If he knew where it was to clean it and close it when doing the job he was given, then why wouldn't he have opened it then?"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I don't know..." Becky said. "Why?"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter looked frustrated, and he shook his head from side to side. "My point is that he would have opened it. Cody wouldn't have left the smoke coming out into the room and just calmly gone up to his room to play his guitar. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cody didn't light the fire.</i>"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Okay," Becky said slowly. She was having a difficult time understanding what Peter's point was. "If Cody didn't start the fire, then who did?"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"We know it wasn't you or... Jackie, go on up to your room and put your pajamas on. I'll be up to read you a story in a little bit," Peter said. Though the boy pouted, he turned and headed for the stairs with some cheerfulness regarding the promised story. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">When <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was gone, Peter turned his attention back to Becky. "We know that it wasn't you or Jackie who started the fire," he said plainly. "And I know it wasn't me. Now we know that it wasn't Cody either. Who does that leave?"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"We know it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">probably</i> wasn't Cody," Becky corrected.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter waved his hand impatiently. "He never admitted to doing it, and now this thing with the flue... Other than Cody, that leaves us with <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky frowned, her brows coming together as a headache began to surface and brew quickly and violently behind her eyes. She thought hard for a moment, and then shook her head. "But you said he finally admitted...."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"No," Peter said. "I said that he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">apologized</i>. A subtle but significant difference," he added.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky felt her stomach do a slow roll, and she stood up, abandoning her tea. "So he's been punished... Three days now," she said, glancing at the calendar. "The spankings, and on top of that the extra chores that we've been giving him. All this for lighting a fire that could have burned out the whole house. Killed all of us. And either he knew how to stop smoking the house out or... Lizzie started the fire. That's what you're saying." </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"That's what I'm saying," Peter confirmed.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky felt sick to her stomach. She blinked, and then shook her head in frustration. This wasn't a mistake: this was a disaster. She reached up and rubbed her eyes, then glanced back at Peter. His hands were crossed over his chest and he had a very intense expression on his face. "So how do we fix this?" she asked.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"We can't," Peter shrugged. "I'm not going to touch it. There is no way in hell I'm going to go up there and talk to Cody after everything <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I've</i> done. I'm not masochistic and I'm not that sadistic either. He's not about to talk to me as though nothing happened. As far as <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> goes, you need to be the one to talk to her. I'm too furious with her to handle her right now. But I'm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> going to buy those books she wants."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Okay," Becky said with a nod. "Then I'm going to go up and talk to them." She reached for the paddle and grabbed it off its hook. She'd never used Peter's paddle before, but as long as it was available, she was going to put it to good use tonight, that was for sure! </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky took a deep breath and turned toward Peter. "This is going to be hard."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">He nodded. "Yeah. I can imagine. Just... We'll talk about it later." He was blushing, and Becky shook her head as she turned for the stairs and made herself slowly up the two flights to the boys' floor. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was in his room and she could hear the sound of a radio playing from in there. Peter had given it to him two weeks ago for good behavior.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky didn't even pause outside Cody's door, but just pushed the door open and entered. She didn't close it behind her, wanting to make him feel as secure as she could. Nothing she was going to do to or with him was so private that it required a closed door. When she turned around and faced him, Cody was wearing only his boxer briefs, and his cheeks were flushed a deep crimson. The blue eyes were watering, and she could see tear tracks running down his cheeks. His hands covered his modesty<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and he turned slightly away from her. From that angle, Becky could see the deep welts on his thighs, and tears sprung immediately to her eyes. "Oh Cody," she breathed. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I... Uh... I though Mr. Peter was coming," the teenager said. His eyes were fixed on the paddle in Becky's left hand.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">She quickly set it down on the dresser, then moved toward Cody. "Can you sit down? I need to talk to you."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody's hands were shaking, and his face was unbelievably red. He shook his head from side to side, though the movement was barely perceptible. "Can... Can I stand instead?" he asked. He sniffled, and Becky's heart sank even lower. His eyes watched her every move, and she sat down on the bed, leaving the paddle on the dresser across the room. She hoped it was clear that she didn't intend to use it.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky sighed, then quickly clamped her lips together. She gave a small nod of her head and sat down on the bed, smoothing her skirt under her as she put her weight down. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked up at him, her green eyes wide as she studied him for a long moment. One hand reached up and tugged at her long auburn braid and then she finally nodded her head slightly, coming to her own conclusions. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Cody," Becky said. "Can you please tell me what happened the day of the fire?"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">She waited, watching his face as the lines around the eyes twitched. They were dry now and had lost that liquid quality. He shifted from one foot to the other, his hands still covering the front of himself. Finally his face went expressionless, and he shrugged.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky turned her head to the side, watching his face, but the movements had stopped, and she could only imagine that he'd stopped thinking it over. She sighed and shook her head. "Cody..." she said. Then she paused, struggling with the growing sickness in her tummy and the lump in her throat.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I already said 'sorry,'" Cody said in a weak voice. "Sorry."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky sighed again and tugged at the end of her braid. Her eyes darted over to the paddle again and then back to Cody. "That's not for you," she said suddenly, her voice a bit sharp. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody took a step back, and Becky breathed deeply through her nose, reminding herself of where she was and who she was talking to. "Cody, what are you sorry for?" she asked, attempting to level out her tone as her green eyes tried to meet his gaze. He was staring down at the carpet as though it was fascinating, and she gave another sigh, wishing that she could reach out to him without being rebuked.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">After a moment, Cody raised his gaze and met Becky's eyes. "I ain't gonna lie," he said simply.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Then tell me," Becky said, her voice soft. Her heart was beating too hard, hoping that she would hear him say that he'd set the fire so that the guilt could go away and they could move on. Either way the punishments would be stopped after tonight. She never wanted to see Cody like this again. "Tell me what you're sorry for," she said a bit more loudly, with more confidence in her voice.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I'm sorry everybody's pissed off at me," Cody said, his voice hard, his blue eyes harder, then softening again as he glanced over at the paddle. "I'm sorry Mr. Peter's whipping my butt every night. I'm sorry he did it even once. I'm sorry I can't sit down at supper. I'm sorry I gotta do chores every day. I'm sorry my dad died and I'm sorry I'm stuck in this place!" His voice was vibrating with anger, and his hands had clenched into fists. There was no mistaking the emotion in Cody's voice, and Becky knew that she deserved no less than his outburst. In fact, she might have given it more if she'd been in Cody's shoes and her father was sitting in front of her.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky nodded her head a little bit. "Okay," she said. "I understand. I need you to tell me what happened that day."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"No you don't!" Cody snapped. He was trembling so hard now that he had to lean against the wall for support. "You don't care what I have to say about what happened that day. It doesn't matter! I'm just going to get beat and beat until I tell you I did something I didn't and nobody <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cares!</i>"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I do," Becky said. "You didn't light the fire. Peter figured it out. He told me." She let the words drop, and she looked up at the angry teenager. After a moment, she stood up. "I'm sorry, Cody. I'm sorry that everyone has been so angry with you. I'm sorry that you've been spanked every night, and worse that you've been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strapped</i> every night. I'm even more sorry that it was for something you didn't do. I'm sorry that your father died, and your mother before him. I'm sorry that you're 'stuck' here. I'm sorry that we didn't believe you in the first place. I'm sorry that you've had so many chores. I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do to make it better. I'm sorry that you're hurting." She paused. "I'm sorry that there's something else I need to do and that you won't let me hold you and make it better. I'll be here, every day. When you need me, you come find me. Peter too."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Oh no! Because you can just up and leave. It's that easy, ain't it?" Cody snapped, just as Becky was about to pick up the paddle again and leave the room. "After all this... All... this," he said, waving his hands frantically. "I told him! I told him that it wasn't me and that asshole wouldn't believe me. Oh no! Of course not. How can we trust Cody? Cody never does anything right, it must be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i> who would set the stupid fire and nearly burn the house down. Of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">course</i> Cody wouldn't be smart enough to open the flue. And who's stupid enough to apologize for something he didn't do? That's right! Cody again! Not as though I had any <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">choice</i> in the matter. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"So yeah, now everything's all hunky dory because you've figured it out. You're all great. You can walk on and move on to your 'other things to do' and I can just go on about my business like nothing ever happened. Never mind that my ass is covered in welts. Nevermind three days of hell. Nevermind how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> feel! No! That's not important at all!" </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky turned, a retort on her lips, but the tears in the teenager's eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. He blinked, and they rolled down his cheeks before he could reach up and scrub them away with the heel of his hand. Still the teenager was shaking, and he finally moved to the bed on trembling knees and fell down on it, burying his head in his pillow. She knew he was doing what he could to hide his shame. And she couldn't take her eyes off his backside, the area below his boxer briefs where the welts showed on his thighs, and the puffy area even under the fabric. Was Peter responsible for the tighter shorts? She shuddered inwardly and then slowly and carefully went to the bed and sat down on it, her hand reaching out and touching his shoulder. "Cody," she whispered, her voice low.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">His body was shaking, and Becky continued to rub the teen's back for a long moment before she spoke again. "Honey," she said, bending down to kiss the back of his head. "I'm sorry," said. "I'm sorry for everything." Gently Becky wrapped her arm around Cody's shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. "I'm going to go away for a few minutes. Get up, take your shorts off, and lay back down. I'll be back in about ten minutes," she said, and then kissed the back of his head again and moved off the bed.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky picked up the paddle from the dresser and at the door turned to look back at him. The blonde haired fourteen year-old was still sobbing hard, and she let a tear trickle down her own cheek. The conversation she was about to have with Lizzie was going to be far from easy, and she would have preferred to stay and comfort Cody, though she felt that he might prefer to have the privacy, at least for right now.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky left the room, and this time closed the door behind her. Her right hand gripped around the worn wood of the paddle's handle tightly as she headed down the stairs toward the first floor of the house: the floor where the girls slept. She could hear sound coming from number ten, where Felicity would be sleeping, and she imagined that the sisters were helping one another to unpack and talking about their first day. If they didn't know how discipline was issued in this house, they were about to find out, Becky realized. It wouldn't be the most pleasant of introductions, but at least it was neither of the Slater girls going over Becky's lap tonight.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Outside <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s door, Becky paused for a moment. She wasn't angry, just disappointed that everything had worked out the way that it had. She was resolved to what needed to be done, but she wasn't going to make Lizzie face what Cody had. She would never, ever put one of the children through anything like that again. She would get this over with as quickly as she could, and then hopefully all of them would be able to move on at least peacefully. Cody had to regain her trust, and she had to regain his. It was going to be a difficult next few months.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">After a moment of contemplation, Becky pushed open <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s door and went inside. She left the door open intentionally, knowing that the sound of the spanking would carry down the hall and potentially up into the second floor as well. Lizzie was on her bed writing in a notebook, and she looked up with a broad grin when she saw Becky enter. "Ms. Becky!" she said, then her face became gravely serious. "Did you know that Cody was on the girls' floor earlier? He put the things in the girls' rooms!"</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky nodded. "I know." There was a pause while Becky processed, and then frowned deeply. "I am concerned by your need to constantly tell me what other people in this house have been up to. Especially when your tattling turns into lying. You know, like telling Mr. Peter that Cody set the books on fire in the fireplace."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky moved to the bed and took hold of Lizzie's arm, gently drawing her off the bed and then sitting down herself, moving the ten year old so that she stood between Becky's knees, facing her. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"What are you talking about?" Lizzie said.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Cody knew about the flue. You open the flue so that the smoke goes up the chimney and not out into the room. I could account for me and Jackson, as well as Mr. Peter. That left you." Without another word Becky began to undo Lizzie's jeans and pushed them down to her knees. She didn't give the little girl the luxury of baring herself this time, in part because she wanted to get this done and get back to Cody. "You won't be getting that list of books, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. I can't tell you how long it will be before we rebuild the library, but none of the rest of us really read all that much. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> likes stories pretty well, but we're still reading to him, and he has his books in his room. It will be a while," she added. All the while Becky adjusted <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s clothing and then calmly pulled the little girl over her knee and positioned her so that her bottom was high up over her left thigh. Not wanting to deal with a fight, Becky secured Lizzie's legs with her right leg. The child's upper body was laying against the bed, and her hands doubled up in the comforter immediately.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Not wanting to give <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> the chance to struggle and get herself into deeper trouble, Becky took her right hand and pinned it to her back, securing the complacent little girl over her lap so that there was no chance of escape. "Cody's punishments aren't amusing. They aren't for fun. They hurt him, and this game you played hurt me and Mr. Peter as well. Ultimately it also hurts you, because now neither of us can trust anything you tell us. Maybe we'll have to remind you of the boy who cried wolf, and what happened to him in the end. But right now I have another lesson in mind," she said. "One that involves your bottom and Mr. Peter's paddle."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">No more words were necessary, and Becky wasn't really in a talking mood. She'd already explained to Lizzie what was happening, and she'd had a long enough talk with Cody as well. Now she wanted to get this done with and go back to the child who she felt needed her the most: Cody.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Even as she raised the paddle and brought it down with a brisk flick of her wrist on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s bottom, Becky felt torn and conflicted. She cared about the welfare of the all of the children who were under her care. She cared about them enough to try to show them the right way, and as far as she was concerned, that meant a good, old fashioned spanking. That was how her parents had done it, and too many people these days had dismissed spanking as a form of discipline. It wasn't getting society anywhere good, and so Becky believed in the firm application of hand, paddle or hairbrush to the naughty backside of an errant child. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky flipped the paddled against <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s other cheek. Already the little girl was squirming hard. She knew that the paddle was a nasty little thing, though she'd never felt it herself, and as far as Becky was concerned, it wouldn't take much of its use to get the desired effect out of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. She never, ever, wanted to have to deal with the ten year-old manipulating another child into trouble again. No, she wasn't spanking for the fire, which was bad enough. Cody had been punished (unjustly) for that. Becky was spanking <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> for the lies that had caused Cody to be whipped with Peter's belt, not once, but three times.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Still without speaking, Becky brought the paddle down again, each spank rounding both cheeks. She wasn't spanking hard, but crisply and cleanly, with a slow deliberateness that would be frightening and infuriating for the child who squirmed helplessly over her lap. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was already crying. Becky could hear the choking sound of her sobs as she twisted, and that was only three spanks into the paddling. The flesh of the girl's backside was already beginning to heat up, and she could feel waves of warmth rising as she raised her hand again, the paddle gripped tightly in her fingers. It wouldn't take long before the little girl had a dark pink and very warm backside, and even then Becky wouldn't be finished with her, even if she did end the spanking there to attend to Cody.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"I care about you, Elizabeth," Becky said in a firm voice. She was surprised to find that there was a lump in her throat as she cracked the paddle down with a quick snap again. "If I didn't care about you and your well being, it would make a lot more sense for me to be with Cody right now. I don't know why you make the choices that you do, but I have a responsibility to help you make better ones."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">With that the paddle snapped down again, and Becky applied it earnestly to the little girl's sit spots, that tender crease where the bottom and thighs meet. She kept up with crisp spanks, more quickly now, applying the brush just a few more times until the area was a dark pink and smoldering. She could just make out where the holes in the paddle were, and determined that the squirming child would be left with a couple of small marks for the next several days that would remind her of her misbehavior. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky was done. Cody needed her more right now than <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> did, and she felt that the paddle had done its job. If not, then she would reapply it as many times as necessary until Elizabeth was ready to stop putting others in the position of being punished unjustly (or justly, for that matter). Nobody liked a tattletale, and that included Becky. However long it took <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> to figure out who was in charge and in control, she would keep working at it.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">For now, "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, go stand in the corner, hands on your head, and don't rub your bottom. Stay there until Peter or I comes to get you ready for bed. We'll talk more about this in the morning."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;"> had been silent throughtout the entire ordeal. She hadn't begged, or pleaded. She hadn't denied what she had done, nor apologized. Becky was too tired to press the issue, and she didn't want a false apology out of the little girl anyway. Wasn't that where the problems with Cody had really begun? She sighed and escorted the sobbing child into the corner and gave her a last, hard swat with the paddle before she left the room and headed downstairs to put the paddle away and get the things she was going to need.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">By the time Becky reached the kitchen, she was exhausted. The headache was, strangely, gone, but she felt as though she could sleep for an entire day without waking, and her stomach was still churning. Peter was nowhere to be found, and she imagined that he'd gone upstairs to put <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> to bed. She hung the paddle in its place, and then went into the first aid cupboard. Rummaging around for a moment she finally pulled out a tube of Aloe, the best thing she could think of. It would cool, at least, though it wouldn't do much for healing. That would take time. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky's heart was sad as she trekked up the stairs again, taking both flights to the boy's floor. Sure enough, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s door was open and she could hear Peter's voice from inside. She went instead to Cody's door and gave it a quick, light rap. "Cody, can I come in?" she asked, allowing him, at least this once, his privacy.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Yes..." came a small voice from inside the room.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky pushed the door open and entered slowly. "I'm going to close the door," she told Cody, and then shut it before turning around to see that he had done as she had asked, taken off the tight underwear and laid back down on his belly on the bed. She moved toward him and set the tube down on the night stand where he could see it, and then put her hand on his back. "I'm going to put something on you to help cool the welts off. It will feel good for a little bit, but it's not going to heal them. I'm sorry," she said, her voice dropping in volume.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The teenager nodded his head and shifted his weight a bit as Becky opened the tube and squirted some of the gel onto her fingers. She reached out her hand, and then glanced toward Cody's head. "I'm going to touch you," she said, wanting to make sure he was prepared for it. "I'm going to be as gentle as I can. If I hurt you, I want you to tell me."</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">When Cody nodded, Becky gently began to apply the gel to his thighs. She worked her fingers lightly only over the welts, but when she heard him sigh, she froze. "Okay?" she asked. But he nodded again, and she returned to her work. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The welts were bad, raised, with purple around the edges, and a little showing of wrap from the end of the belt where Peter had swung it carelessly. But that was the way with straps: they almost always wrapped around something, and Cody was lucky that he didn't have any serious nicks. She'd talk to Peter later on about either learning how to use it more effectively or not using it at all.</span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">It took nearly twenty minutes before Becky was finished, and when she went to check on Cody, he was sleeping. For a moment Becky was surprised, and she nearly woke him, but instead she brushed the short hair at his temple and gave him a gentle kiss. He was sleeping on top of the covers, and she figured that he would feel better with the cool air on his rear end anyway. </span></div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListBullet" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-list: none; tab-stops: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">With a sigh, Becky went to the door, turning back one last time to make sure that Cody was still peaceful before she slipped out of the room to get the two younger girls settled into bed.</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-37165337731968896942010-08-08T16:49:00.001-07:002010-08-10T09:22:16.884-07:00Foster Forest (14): Arson!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It had been a long week for all of the residents of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>, but Peter was certain that he and Cody were more exhausted than any of the other residents. Though Becky was showing the signs of strain and Lizzie seemed to be hiding out in her room with a book more and more often, nothing could compare to being on the giving or the receiving end of nightly punishments. Peter knew from his own personal experience that Cody was having a difficult time, but he hadn't imagined what it would be like to be the one wielding the paddle every evening for three nights straight. It had taken it out of him to see Cody blubbering and sobbing like a little boy, and Peter could only imagine that he had once looked the same when his mother had taken him to task at the same age.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The rest of the week had been spent mostly talking about the pornography on Cody's computer. It wasn't the porn itself that Peter minded; he could understand that at Cody's age the kid was going to want to look and see things that stimulated him. He didn't condemn the teenager for that. No, the problem that Peter had was with the dishonesty. Nobody had given Cody access to the Internet, and he had confessed later to using a back door to enter the porn site. Once Peter explained to Cody that he was stealing, it seemed as though everything did a much better job of clicking into place. Though he still wasn't sure that Cody understood the rules or their purpose, he thought they<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>might be making headway, and therefore the ritualistic nightly punishments hadn't been in vain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody was even beginning to speak up a bit at supper. Though he wasn't laughing and joking with the others, he was beginning to come out of himself. The computer was gone, and Peter felt sure that the lack of socialization on Facebook and other Internet sites had caused the teenager to need more real world stimulation. Whatever the cause, Becky was relaxing and Peter was feeling more and more at home. He'd taken on an extra two shifts at the house now, and he was becoming comfortable spending time playing board games with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> or helping Lizzie to clean up the library, which she often left in a mess. Moreover, Peter was beginning to relax generally. Though it still gave him the creeps when a room wasn't spotless, he didn't force the kids to be perfect, and he felt better for it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">As far as Peter was concerned, things were going pretty well at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place> in Cody's third week there. Though it would take time for all of the kids to fully settle in, he thought that there was a good chance that things were going to work out for the best. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter was smiling to himself as he worked on cleaning the kitchen counters, scrubbing them down with bleach. <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city> was outside with Becky while she instructed the assembly men where to put the playground equipment she'd purchased, and the last time he'd checked, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was in her room reading her most recent book. He hadn't checked on Cody in a while, but he also knew that the computer was plenty out of his reach and Peter felt that there wasn't much trouble the fourteen year-old could cause without it. As far as Peter was concerned, all was right with the world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Then he smelled smoke.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></div><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter sat up and sniffed the air, thinking at first that he was wrong: Cody was smoking cigarettes somewhere in the house, something that was strictly forbidden along with all "illegal substances" (since cigarettes were illegal for teenagers). It only took a moment, however, for Peter to realize that it wasn't a cigarette he smelled, but burning wood. He was about to turn out of the kitchen and run for the door when Lizzie came rushing in at him, grabbing him around the waist and burying her head against his belly. "Mr. Peter! Mr. Peter!' she cried in a voice muffled by his shirt. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Stooping, Peter drew the little girl back and looked into her face. "Lizzie, there's a fire," he said as calmly as he could. "You need to go outside and wait for me. Where's Cody?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"He started it!" the ten year-old cried, shaking her head from side to side. "He started the fire!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The alarm began to buzz, and Peter turned the little girl around and gave her a light swat to her backside. "Get outside, and if you see Cody, tell him to get out there with you. I need to call the fire department. Go!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose and ventured out of the kitchen, through the entryway and into the Great Room. Great billows of dark smoke were pouring out of the fireplace there, and he gagged, dropping lower so that he could breathe more easily and therefore so that he could think. Immediately he was aware that there was no great danger. The fire had caught only in the hearth and there was nothing outside the fireplace that was burning. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Coughing, Peter examined the fireplace and then quickly opened the flue. Immediately the smoke began to go up the chimney again. Peter withdrew, sitting back on his knees. He turned his head when he heard someone approach, relieved when it was Becky. "Go turn off the smoke alarm," he said. "I've got everything under control here," he added. A moment later the screaming sound of the alarm stopped. Peter was breathing heavily, staring at the contents of the fireplace. A few covers were still visible as the flames licked up the chimney now, safely where they belonged. Peter fanned himself with his hand and finally pushed himself up onto his feet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well," he said to Becky, who was standing behind him. "Seems to me we have an arsonist of sorts in the house, and my guess is I know who it is."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Cody," they both said in unison.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky sighed, and Peter shook his head. "I thought we'd made a dent in him," he said. "What is wrong with him?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What do you mean?" Becky asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Why is he so destructive?" Peter said. He glanced back at the fire and gestured. "At least some of the books were used as fuel. I don't know how many, but Lizzie told me about the fire before the alarm started to go off, right after I smelled the smoke in the first place." Peter sighed and ran his hand back through his shaggy blonde hair. He glanced over at Becky and shook his head sadly. "I thought I'd just about gotten her calmed down from the last major incident, and now here we go again. What a roller coaster ride."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky muttered something that he couldn't make out, and he didn't bother to ask her to repeat herself. Instead he simply stared into the fire for a long moment, until the two younger children came charging into the house, having heard the alarm stop trilling. "He burned them!" Lizzie was saying breathlessly. "He burned all of them and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate</i> him!" she cried, shaking her head from side to side. "I hate him!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Stop," Becky said, stooping down to look the little girl in the eyes. "Who burned what?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Cody!" he burned all the books. "I saw him. They were on the shelves this morning and then I went to go take a shower and when I came back down, he was pushing them into the fireplace. Then he got them burning, and I came and got Mr. Peter." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little girl wasn't sobbing any more, but the redness of her cheeks told the story of her anger and frustration. Peter turned immediately and went to the library. Sure enough, the shelves were entirely empty and Cody was nowhere to be found. He stood for a moment in the middle of the essentially empty room, and then closed his eyes, his hands on his hips. What on earth was going through Cody's mind? Peter wondered. He had to expect that he would not only be caught if he did something this serious, but that the punishment would be brutal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">A thought prickled at the back of Peter's mind, and he pushed it away quickly. Instead, he walked back out into the Great Room and stopped in front of Becky and Elizabeth. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, you saw Cody put the books in the fire. Isn't that what you said?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">There was a brief pause as the little girl looked up at Becky with an almost questioning expression on her face, and then she nodded. "Yes Sir," she said in a very small voice, broken on the sob that caught in her throat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter took a deep breath. He was struggling with his calm, and he had vowed to himself over the past several weeks that he wasn't going to continue to lose his temper with the children. He needed to be cool when he went to talk to Cody. After all, he thought they were bonding with one another. This disrupted the process, of course. He looked up at Becky. Her face was bright red and there were tears in her own green eyes. That wasn't something Peter could deal with easily, and he turned away, pacing. "Why would he burn the books?" he thought out loud. He wasn't ready to confront the boy, who he suspected would be difficult to find anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"He said... He said that it was because I told on him about the computer," <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> said from behind him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter turned back and dropped down into a crouch, pulling <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> gently toward him. "Honey, I need you to be sure. Because if I find Cody and he gets told off or even punished for this, and then I find out that he didn't do it, there's going to be a lot of trouble for you. Are you sure you saw him and that you talked to him?" Peter asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"It's the only thing that makes sense," Becky said before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> could answer. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> can't reach the matches and even if he could I don't think that he could get one to light. You and I didn't do it for sure, and why would <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> burn her own books. That leaves Cody," Becky said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter sighed and stood up again, glancing down at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> and running his hand through his hair again. He nodded slightly. "Okay," he said. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, go upstairs to your room and make me a list of all the books you want. I'll make sure that we get the library restocked. I was in the house when this happened, I'll take responsibility for it. I'm going to go find Cody and have a talk with that young man."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was strange, but Peter couldn't work up a good head of steam as he went up the stairs. Cody had been grounded to his room all week, though he had been allowed to join the others for meals. Now the room may seem as though it was a peaceful oasis for Cody to go to after committing such a crime as a book burning. Even Peter, who didn't read much, realized that there was something very wrong with burning books. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Somewhere in the back of Peter's mind he felt some sympathy for Cody. The teenager kept getting it wrong at every turn. The rules were well stated, and clear, and it amazed Peter that Cody continued to disobey in spite of the repeated, and harsh, warnings that he needed to get back in line. Having spoken to Becky, he knew that there wasn't a lot of information about Cody, and it seemed as though perhaps the boy had been spoiled by his parents, or at least that they hadn't been particularly strong in their discipline.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Still, it struck Peter funny that only four days after finishing a four day spanking (the strapping from Becky and then three nightly paddlings from Peter) that Cody would take a risk and stick his hand in the fire again. However, as Peter tried to pursue that line of thinking, he couldn't provide another person who might have set the fire. Lizzie wouldn't have burned her own books, Becky was outside and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was with her, and Peter had been... Well, he'd been in the kitchen cleaning, and he could account for his own whereabouts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that left Cody. There was no way for Peter to get around it. Cody had lit the fire and thrown the books into it. Which was more, he had motive to do so, considering that Lizzie had told Becky about the pornography on the computer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He didn't even hesitate in front of Cody's door. Instead, Peter shoved the door open and stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Cody looked up from where he was sitting on his bed and playing his guitar. The instant smile that had come to his face faded immediately, and Peter was sure that had something to do with the expression on his face. There was no heat in his cheeks or rolling down his neck and he couldn't even muster the anger in his heart. At least he was going to deliver this punishment stone cold calm, but somehow that made him feel wrong about the entire thing. His mother had always been angry when she'd taken the paddle to his backside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">With a sudden inward curse, Peter realized that he'd forgotten the paddle downstairs. It now hung on a peg in the kitchen. There it stood not only as a reminder of what would happen to naughty children, but also where it was within easy reach. Peter didn't plan on taking this punishment into the kitchen, so that left him with either his hand or the belt that he was wearing around his waist. Well, that was going to have to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What were you thinking, Cody?" His own voice sounded more weary than it did angry, and Peter noticed that the teenager visibly relaxed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What do you mean?" Cody asked. "I thought... I figured I'd sit up here and play the guitar for a while. I was gonna ask Ms. Becky about lessons, but I figure she's still pretty pissed off at me," he added.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody blushed, and Peter rolled his eyes. Now the anger was beginning to come, and the back of his neck was getting hot quickly. "Right now she's extremely upset with you. You got that right. How could you throw all those books into the fireplace, Cody? And then set fire to them? What is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrong </i>with you?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody blinked several times and put the guitar down next to him, slowly climbing off the bed. "Is that what I heard? The smoke alarm? Somebody set fire to the library or something?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter let out a growl. His face was growing hotter, and his muscles were bunching up. Any hope of not getting angry was now diminished. "Stop playing dumb, Mr. York. You're the only person who could have set that fire, and neither Becky nor I is stupid. You're still upset because <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> told us what you had on your computer and you thought you'd get back at her by taking something away that she loves. It doesn't work that way, Cody. The books are coming back. Your computer is not."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The teenager rolled his eyes and turned his head away. "We've talked about this over and over and over again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why</i> can't you just let it drop? I get it, okay? My butt was toast for four days to make sure I got it. You don't need to keep going on and on about it!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The raised voice had Peter two steps toward Cody, his hand raised. At the last minute he balled his fingers and shoved his hand into his pocket, barely controlling the impulse to strike out. More and more lately he was understanding his mother's temper and her tendency to punish him in anger. Now Peter was seeing red behind his eyes, and that was about all it took. "Get your jeans and shorts down, Mr. York," Peter said. "Maybe a week of nightly spankings will get through to you this time. You're grounded until further notice. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get them down!</i>"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody slid off the bed. His hands were trembling and there were already tears in his eyes. Peter stood, hands on his hips, and watched the teenager as he put his hands on the button of his pants and popped it open. His fingers were on the zipper when he stopped again. "Mr. Peter, I didn't do nothin'," he said in a weak voice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter rolled his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. "You set fire to the library books, one. For another, you had smoke billowing out into the Great Room. The fire could have spread that way, and you put all of us in danger. This is very, very serious business. Come to think of it," Peter said, his hands on his belt. He flipped the buckle and began to pull the belt through its loops. There was no way that his hand was going to do the job, and he didn't trust Cody not to run if he went after the paddle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody froze, his eyes locked on Peter's hands. Taking no mind of him, Peter pulled the belt out and then doubled it over. "If you can't get those pants and shorts down for me, I'm going to have to take care of it myself. Since four days of this didn't get through to you the last time, you can have six days of my belt this time. Maybe the next time you think of destroying or interfering with another person's property you'll think twice. Because if it happens again, we may just call the police, and you can spend a night in jail. Understand me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You cuh-can't," Cody said, his hand holding his jeans up as though he was desperate to keep them on. "You wouldn't cuh-call the police."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"It's your choice," Peter said, changing tactics very quickly. "Either get those jeans and shorts down or I will call the cops to come and show you what happens to people who steal and who light fires. Arson is a crime. You're plenty old enough to know that. If something had happened to any of the people who live here, you're old enough to be tried as an adult for manslaughter. Get the pants and shorts down."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Tears were already rolling down Cody's cheeks, and though Peter felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for him, and felt relieved when the boy finally pushed his zipper down and began to lower his jeans (to the ankles, as Peter had taught him), he knew that this was something that had to be done. The more that he thought about it, the more that he realized that Cody's current actions had him on his way to a criminal trial if things didn't change. It was Peter's (and Becky's) job to make sure that didn't happen, and if he had to scare the hell out of Cody to get the desired results, he was going to scare the hell out of Cody to get the desired results.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Please, Mr. Peter," Cody said. His voice was small, and it cracked as he let out a sob. "Please not with the strap. Please not on the bare."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Get your shorts down, Mr. York, or I will do it for you. Right now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody hesitated a moment, his shaking hands on the waistband of his boxers. Frustrated, Peter was at the end of his rope. All questions had flown from his mind. He was tired of the stalling. Without giving Cody another chance, he put his right hand on the back of the boy's neck and pushed him down onto the bed, doing the work for the teenager, who didn't seem capable of doing it himself. Cody's torso was stretched out over the comforter and his backside was thrust over the edge. His knees were off the ground but his feet balanced him a little bit. With his left hand, Peter tugged down Cody's boxers. "Next time I tell you to do something, you do it, unless you want me to call the police and have you detained overnight," he said firmly. "Now you stay right there."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter gathered the doubled belt into his right hand, putting his left hand down on Cody's back to hold him in place. "Since six didn't seem to make a dent in your attitude, I'm only going to stop when I'm sure that you've got it, Mr. York. You could have set this entire house on fire." As though responding to the words, the heat rose to Peter's cheeks, and he felt a surge of anger when he thought what could have happened to all of them. "People could have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">died,</i> Mr. York! People could have died because you are a careless and selfish little boy. I have to make sure that never happens again. Stay put!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The boy was trembling as Peter finally let his hand go off Cody's back and raised his belt. He had no experience of using one of these, though he'd been on the receiving end a number of times. He knew that the teenager would feel as though he was being torn in two, and there would come a moment when he wanted to die, and then another when he was sure he was, indeed, dying. He couldn't, and wouldn't relent until Cody was ready to say that he was sorry for the entire incident, to ask for forgiveness. Peter wouldn't trust him again until he had proven that he was worth trusting, and that would take a very, very long time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter raised the belt high and brought it down in a wide arc that caught Cody across the fullest swell of his backside, the folded tip of the belt creating a deep bruise in the middle of the teen's right cheek, the stripe turning white, then faintly red and only slightly puffy. Peter would give this all he got if it would mean that Cody and the others wouldn't suffer more because of the stupid mistakes that the boy continued to make.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Beneath the stroke of the belt the fourteen year-old screamed, his entire body pushing up off the bed and his legs kicking behind him. "No!" Cody cried, his body twisting as though by doing so he could escape another stroke. But Peter was slow and deliberate, and the belt was still low.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Back into place," Peter said in a low tone of voice. He put his hand on Cody's shoulder and rolled the boy back onto his belly. "I decide when this is done, not you, though my decision is determined by your behavior. You stay where I put you or I'm going to have to call Ms. Becky up here to hold you down."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody gasped, and Peter stared down at the rising welt. He winced, knowing that the pain had to be brutal, his anger dissipating at least a little bit. This time he put his left hand down on Cody's back, holding the teenager in place as he applied a second stroke of the belt, aiming for just below the first. Because he was leaning over Cody, it wasn't nearly as hard, and didn't arc as much, though the effect on the teenager was profound. Cody jumped, his entire body moving against Peter's hand as the man graciously held him in place. He howled again, and there was snot and tears rolling down his cheeks. "Not Becky! Please don't make her see! Please!" Cody said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter nodded. "Not as long as you stay in place," he said, pausing between strokes for the full effect. "Do you have anything to say about what you did, throwing all of the books from the library into the fire?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I didn't do it!" Cody cried. He gripped the comforter hard between his fingers and pulled it to him. Peter knew that the boy was looking for the comfort that he wasn't getting from Peter, and he sighed, shaking his head. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well then," Peter said. The belt rose again and fell, imprecisely this time, cutting across both of the previous two welts, the folded end nicking the first welt and creating a bruise that turned purple almost immediately.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Argh!" Cody cried. "Please! Uh Pluh-please stop!" He was sobbing so hard now that his entire body was shaking, and his feet were drumming a tattoo on the floor beneath them. "I didn't... I didn't luh-light a fire! I uh don't know what you're uh talking about, I juh-just heard the alarm! Stop! Luh-listen to me!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"There's nothing to listen to," Peter said, reaching down to reposition the teenager so that his backside was a better target. "Until you are ready to admit that you did wrong and start apologizing, there's nothing that I need to hear." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It wasn't typical of Peter to talk during a spanking of any kind, and so he closed his mouth and raised the belt again, still handicapped by the fact that he was holding Cody down. The belt swung up and then fell at the top part of Cody's thighs, just like Becky had done last week. The welt there rose quickly, and Cody's legs kicked out desperately. This time Peter didn't give another moment for the boy to speak, beg or squirm. He lashed the belt down again, catching him right where bottom and thighs met, in the tender "sit spots." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody screamed, pounding his head against the bed, his hands gripping the bedspread tightly as his feet drummed. "No! No! Uh... No!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter shook his head. Cody's backside was already a mess, and he could clearly remember the effect of Becky's strapping the previous week. She had used a much heavier strap than Peter's belt, and it hadn't been folded. The teenager had been left with a mass of welts on his backside, and already Peter could see that he must be much stronger than Becky. There were two bruises and the welts were a deep and puffy red. Cody wasn't going to be sitting down any time soon at all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Taking a deep breath, Peter raised the belt again. "This stops when you're ready to admit that you did wrong, Mr. York. Until then, we're going to keep going. If you want to sit down some time this week, you might want to think about confessing."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter didn't wait for an answer, but the belt fell again. He released his pressure from Cody's back and let the belt swing higher, falling harder than the previous several strokes. It cut across the part of Cody's backside where it was just beginning to rise, and the tend wrapped around his hip. Peter winced as the teenager let out an agonized wail, throwing his hand back and rubbing madly at his hip. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried, and Peter knew that the pain had become too great for the teenager. "Puh-lease! Stop! I won't... I won't ever again! I promise. Just please stop!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">That was all that Peter needed to hear. He raised the belt one final time and brought it down hard enough to make an impression. Then, without another word, he threaded it back through its loops and stood back, his hands on his hips. Cody's bottom was a mass of welts, and there were several bruises as well. In at least one place it looked as though he might have broken the skin, and Peter winced. He could remember all too clearly what that felt like. "Six days, Cody. For the next six days you have an appointment with my paddle. Maybe by the time the week is over I'll have made a real impression on you, young man. Until then, you're grounded. I'll see you tomorrow evening. My day off, I might add. You could have killed everybody in this house, and there is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no excuse</i> for that kind of behavior!" Peter snapped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">With that he turned on his heels and left the room. He took the stairs down to the first floor and went by Lizzie's room to pick up her list of books, and then found Becky in the kitchen. "I guess I've got some shopping to do," he sighed. "Has the fire burned out?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky nodded. "Yes," she said. "You talk to Lizzie?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"She's fine, I think," Peter said. "I think that getting some new books eased the pain of losing the old ones, to be honest."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky smiled and touched his arm. Uncomfortable, he pulled away, his cheeks heating up at her touch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Everybody's fine, Peter," Becky said. "We're all going to survive this. How's Cody?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Sore, I'm sure," Peter said. "And he's going to be sore for at least a week. I made him an appointment with the paddle for the next six nights, before supper. He can sit on it and think about what he's done," he added. "If you'll excuse me.... I need a drink," he added with a sigh. Peter ran his hand back through his shaggy blonde hair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Okay," Becky said. "Come back for supper. Okay?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'll try," Peter said. He headed home, desperate for a stiff drink. It had turned into a long day.</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-91272246163082196722010-08-08T13:33:00.000-07:002010-08-08T13:34:17.961-07:00Foster Forest (13): Caught with His Pants Down<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody had been spending most of the past week avoiding the grown ups. The sting of humiliation that he had felt initially had been turned on its head, replaced by seething anger. The guy, Mr. Peter, had handled him, and Cody didn't like that. The guy had no right to put his hands on him in any way, and he was sure that he would find a way not to allow that to happen again. And Ms. Becky.... Whoah boy. That had been some experience, hadn't it? First her watching Peter beat his butt with that paddle right there in the kitchen, and then her pulling him across her lap like he was some stupid, wimpy little kid. Like the boy, whatshisname. His anger and humiliation over that incident were so mixed together that they formed some strange stirrings in his belly (and below) that he didn't care to think about too much. Either way, he wasn't going to let it happen again. He had enough things to question as it was, and he didn't need to be thinking about his guardian that way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody didn't want to be anywhere near Peter. That much was for damned sure. He felt as though if he was in the same room with the guy (at least when they weren't sat down for meals) that he'd slug him one. He was fourteen years old: practically an adult! Definitely too old to be treated like a little kid bent over the kitchen chair and having his butt smacked with some stupid kid's paddle. It was stupid and it was humiliating and one day soon he was going to put Peter right back in his place. See how the dude felt if the paddle was being used on him, for a change. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Just the thought made Cody quiver with excitement. Though it didn't give him the same feeling deep in his belly that the thought of being over Becky's knee did, but there was a similar sensation, and it felt good to feel as though he was on top of things, on the top of the world with the guy who had brought him to his lowest. At least that was how Cody saw it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">So instead of spending much time with the grown ups, he'd eaten his supper the past week with his head down, thinking about the things that he'd like to do to them. Once in a while he thought about having Becky turned ass up over his own lap, her skirt up, her panties down, and his hand smacking her butt. That thought made things stir even more, and he would find himself giving Becky a sly grin whenever she glanced at him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody spent most of his time in the library with his computer, or in his room playing with his guitar. He wasn't all that great at playing music yet, but he figured that he would be in time. He'd had to stop lessons when he came to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>, and that downright sucked. He'd find a way to get them again, even if he had to hack into a pay site to get the information he needed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He didn't see a lot of the kids, either, though sometimes he had to share the library with the girl (what was her name? Betsy? Beth? He could never quite figure out what she liked to be called). They didn't talk to each other too much, and he figured that she was just as embarrassed that he'd seen her getting it as he would be if she saw him. But he wasn't going to get it again. There was no way he was going to get caught doing anything again. Whenever he wanted to do something he figured he might get in trouble for, he did it in the privacy of his own room, a space he figured they couldn't invade. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody didn't mind the girl so much, really. At least she didn't ask him about what had happened that day. The kid, the boy, he seemed to never let up. The first couple of days he had tagged along after Cody asking him constantly what it was like, did he cry, and all sorts of other stupid questions that he wasn't going to answer. The kid was a real pain in the ass, and Cody had been on the verge of telling him so several times when Becky had interceded and taken the kid off somewhere else to play.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">At least he had things to do. It occurred to the teenager that the kid didn't know what to do with his time now that there was no television or video games at all in the place. He just seemed to hang around Cody or one of the grown ups all the time, making a nuisance of himself. Cody, on the other hand, could play his guitar or mess with his computer, chatting with Celine or any of his other friends from back home. He missed his parents, and sometimes he used the computer to journal about that as well. It was good to get it out of his system, but there was still an empty hole they had left. This new life was upsetting and confusing, and... painful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">No child ever envisioned themselves in foster care, and now that Cody was here he realized that there were so many things he had taken for granted with his parents: their love for him, their dedication to helping him to make the most out of things. Now he felt as though he was almost always left on his own. After all, if he'd gone off into hiding the way that he was right now, stuck in his room with his laptop and chatting on Facebook, his parents would have tracked him down and at least tried to find out what was going on with him. He didn't understand why Ms. Becky or even Mr. Peter didn't do that now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody sighed and replied to the comment that Celine had posted on his wall. "I don't know when I'll get to see you," he typed. "Hopefully soon. Maybe I can sneak out."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Absently Cody flipped over to the other window that he had open. His eyes scanned the photos of the young women (most of them hardly older than he was, but at least legal) and sighed softly. He'd seen Celine naked the one time that they'd done it, but this was different. There were real curves on these women, and their nipples stood out perkily against their milky skin. Looking at them made his heart beat faster and something begin to stir below the belt. He smiled softly and shifted his computer, along with his weight, to the side, enjoying the pictures and preparing to enjoy them a lot more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Some days later Cody would be glad that Becky chose that moment to burst into the room. Of course he preferred for her not to burst into his room at all, and if she had to, he would have rathered that she not have a furious expression on her face. But if Becky Thomas had to choose a time to burst into his door without warning, he was definitely glad that she did it before he had his pants open and his dick out. It was embarrassing enough that she had seen him bare when she'd spanked him last week, and horrible that she'd walked in on him when Peter had been paddling his butt. But nothing on earth could compare to being caught in the act that way, and he would be glad that she hadn't decided to show up just a moment later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"><a name='more'></a></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Everything happened very quickly. The door sprang back on its hinges and actually hit the wall behind it. Becky rushed into the room, her hair disheveled and her face beet red. Cody swore that her hands looked just like claws as they reached for his laptop and snatched it out from his grip before he could do so much as snap the lid closed. He reacted quickly, springing off the bed and making a grab for the computer so that he could stop her from seeing what was on it. His cheeks were hot, and his eyes narrowed as he struggled with the computer for a moment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody knew that it was pointless. Becky was going to get the computer from him if for no other reason than she was stronger than him. And he was going to be punished, because that's how things worked around here. No doubt she was going to take him across her lap like a little kid and beat his butt with her hairbrush the way that she had the last time. And he would cry and plead with her and make an idiot out of himself and be totally embarrassed by the entire thing. Then, no doubt, she'd give him the computer back and let him use it only with supervision or some other stupid thing like that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The teenager watched as Becky's green eyes moved back and forth across the screen, taking it all in. She was absorbing it slowly, taking her time. The slowness of her reaction made Cody feel increasingly uncomfortable, and he shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for her to say something. Finally, after what seemed like forever but was honestly less than a minute, she snapped the computer shut and pointed to the door. "You are to go to my office. It's the door next to the dining room and it's unlocked. You will go and you will wait for me there. We'll discuss this at length as soon as I am calm enough to deal with you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'm not a fucking little kid! I'm not like... Like the boy, you can't tell me what to do all the time!" Cody retorted. Even as the words came out of his mouth he knew that they were a mistake and he regretted them even as he continued to speak. "That's my computer. Give it back to me right now or I'll fucking sue you and this whole place. It's mine!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No," Becky said coolly. "Everything that was yours became mine when you moved into this place. You have been allowed the privilege of using this computer because I thought that you were using it for honest pursuits. Now that I can see what you've done with it, you won't see it again. Go to my office and wait for me there," she said again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody's jaw ached as he ground his teeth together and glared at his guardian. He didn't know her well, but what he'd seen of her in the last two weeks told him that there was no way she was going to relent. He rolled his eyes and stalked toward the door of his room, his shoulders hunched and his back slouching. He left her behind him, still in his room, and it crossed Cody's mind that it was probably going to be searched. Thank God he didn't have any contraband in the room that would get him into more trouble. He was sure that he was in enough of it as it was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">There were angry tears in Cody's eyes already as he made his way down the steps. His erection was gone with his good mood, and he made his way noisily down to the ground floor, wanting to make sure that Becky knew just how angry with her he was. He had rights. And by God he was going to exercise those rights by.... Well, he didn't know how he was going to exercise his rights, but he was going to make it clear to Becky that she was to give his computer back to him or there was going to be hell to pay. And if she didn't, he would find a way to get it himself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">But Cody's mouth was dry by the time he let himself into the office. The lights were on, and he took a moment to look around. There were bookshelves everywhere, and the desk was old oak with a comfortable-looking leather chair behind it. In front there were two less comfortable looking chairs, and a straight-backed version tucked into a corner. He knew what that would be for. Slowly and with a great deal of hesitation, Cody went and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. The thought to explore crossed his mind but he decided against it immediately. It was wiser for him to be careful about how he spent his time in here. He didn't want the witch to walk in on him doing something else that he shouldn't be doing. Whatever was coming was probably going to be bad enough as it was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was nearly half an hour later when the office door opened. Cody turned his head to look to see who was entering, and was surprised to see that Becky looked more polished now, her hair pulled back in a braid, changed into one of the skirts that he liked the most. She was wearing those sexy cowboy boots under it, and a canvas belt around her waist. It all just accentuated her curves, and he felt a nervous tension in his belly that moved lower and made him stir again. He shifted slightly as she walked around to sit behind her desk, and he had to struggle to get his mouth wet again when she leveled a stern gaze at him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well," Becky said sternly, and Cody sat up straighter in his chair, leaning forward slightly and trying to show her that he was listening. Whatever was coming wasn't going to be good, but he would show her in the meantime that he was interested in what she had to say, and then maybe afterward they could really talk. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Cody, you are in a lot of trouble," Becky said, leaning back in her chair. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was breathing heavily, it seemed, and she was flushed right down to the neckline of her blouse. It seemed to Cody that she was just as hot as he was, and he felt his jeans becoming tighter as he forced his gaze back up to her face and moistened his lips slightly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky sighed and her cheeks puffed out as she blew out a slow breath. "Young man, I'm so ashamed of you right now that I can't think straight. I can't honestly say that I've calmed down enough to deal with this, but I simply don't trust you enough to leave you alone in this room with my files." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. He didn't care about her stupid files. What was wrong with this bitch? He was much more interested in seeing what was under her blouse, her skirt, heck, even inside her boots. He didn't care what the content of his own file was, let alone what was in the other files. He had to actually care about the people there to care what their past was like. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">There was a pause, and Becky took another deep breath. Cody was sure that they were coming to the good part soon, the part where she would offer... He grinned in spite of himself, and his eyes lowered, taking in her breasts and belly under the fitted pink blouse she was wearing. Only another minute and it would be over. They could talk about what would happen next. Celine was too young to make a man out of him, but Becky Thomas was something else entirely.... He was beginning to breathe heavily and was losing his ability to focus on what Becky was saying.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Let's talk first about what you had on your computer," Becky said, her voice firm. As she spoke, she stood up from her seat and took a small key out of her pocket. Cody craned his neck when she bent over to fit it into the lock, his eyes on her breasts as they pressed against her blouse. It wasn't low cut enough for his taste, but his attention was still focused there as she opened the drawer and pulled an old hairbrush out of it. She turned the hairbrush over in her hands, and his attention was diverted enough that his mouth became dry again. He wet his lips, wondering for a moment whether she might take her hair out of that braid and brush it out in waves. He'd like that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Instead, Becky set the hairbrush down on her desk and shook her head. "No. I don't think that the hairbrush is enough to really get your attention and take care of the pornography issue," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Lizzie saw what you had on your computer, you know. And Cody? Remember that I told you it was my job to take care of you kids and to keep you safe? That is not safe for a kid like <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. She was very, very upset by those pictures she saw, and I don't ever want to take that risk again. You owe her an apology if she'll ever let you near her again," Becky said sternly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody felt a lump rising in his throat this time, and he struggled to swallow it. Was the hairbrush for... Reality was beginning to set in, and he shifted in his seat, trying to fix the tightness in his pants. His erection wasn't going anywhere yet, and he felt uncomfortable with his pants all tight around the crotch. He stared at Becky, wondering what was going through her head as she rummaged deeper in her drawer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">A moment later she produced a paddle that looked similar to the one that the dickhead had used on him, only it was newer, and a little bit bigger. She set that down on the desk and then she looked over at Cody with an expression on her face that told him she was studying him closely. "Well," she said. "Since you think you're such a man, I think that your punishment today should be a man's punishment." She turned her head and Cody followed her gaze toward a box in the corner. She approached it, and a moment later there was a thick leather strap sitting on the desk with the other implements. She looked up at Cody, and he swore that her smile was bright. He blinked several times rapidly, his mouth dry and his hard on raging now. "I think that this one will do," Becky said, picking the strap up in her hands and running it through her fingers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Go ahead and stand up, lower your jeans and your underpants and we can get this started. I wish I could say 'get this over with' but it won't be over for a while," Becky said with a shake of her head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody felt as though the blood had rushed out of his head. He stood up without thinking what he was doing, and he rocked a bit on his feet, his head swimming. What had happened? It was such a sure thing. She'd seen what he was looking at on the computer and he thought maybe she'd been interested. After all, he'd seen some of those pictures of women being spanked by men on the Internet. It was all in good fun, right? Why was she so serious? His eyes fell on the strap again and he opened his mouth, stammering. "Buh-but I thought... I thought..."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Jeans and underpants down," Becky snapped, and whatever he had been thinking, her words cut through him. He shoved his hands on his pockets, his shoulders slumped as he made necessary adjustments, his body reacting to the disappointment. The surge of real fear wouldn't come until later on, but for now he was just feeling confused, and more than a little bit put out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"But I thought you liked me," he said in a low voice, shaking his head from side to side. "I thought..." Slowly it clicked into place. She didn't share the feelings that he had. Of course she didn't. He was just a nobody kid to her, and right now he was a naughty kid who was about to... Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to get them to disappear so that he wouldn't humiliate himself in front of her. And now she was asking him to expose himself, as he normally was, not just when he was aroused. He could almost not bear the thought. "Please Ms. Becky. I'm sorry. Please don't."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No," Becky said in a harsh tone of voice. "You were looking at pornography on my Internet. Without my permission. You exposed <st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city> to the pornography and who knows what <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> might have seen. On top of that you spoke to me disrespectfully and swore at me. I'm not even going to ask how you got access to a pay site, but I can assure you that if my credit card was billed for that, or if I find out that you stole anybody's credit card information, there are going to be consequences much more serious than what you're suffering today, I can guarantee you that. Now, little boy, I want your jeans and underpants down to your knees right now, or I'm going to make it happen for you. Understand me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody sucked in a deep breath and before he could stop it, a tear slipped down his cheek. He brushed his sleeve against his cheek before she could see the moisture and then slowly unbuttoned his jeans and then unzipped them, pushing them down to just below his backside. He glanced at her, his cheeks going hot with shame as he finally shuffled forward and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his shorts. He was humiliatingly soft, limp as he pulled his boxers down to join his jeans. His eyes cast down as he stared at the carpeting, not wanting to show her that he was crying or wanting to meet her eyes. He was sure that she was looking him over, scrutinizing his body in a way that made him feel horribly humiliated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Over the desk," Becky said. Already there was a clear area, and Cody shuffled forward, hobbled by his jeans (which weren't even down to his knees). He pressed against the cool wood of the desk and then slowly bent over at the waist. It wasn't comfortable, and the wood bit into his belly. His legs weren't long enough for him to bend at the hips, his torso being the part of him that made him taller than most.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Becky, I got Lizzie down for a nap. She's finally calmed down a little bit and I wanted to talk to you about... Oh."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was Peter, behind him. Cody flinched, his body going stiff against the desk. It was just what he needed, having Peter there in the room while he was bent over the desk. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I thought you were going to wait and address this after supper," Peter's voice said. Cody lifted his head, but a hand to the back of his neck pushed him quickly back down. "After we'd had a chance to talk."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No," Becky's voice said. "We need to deal with it now. You and Cody can have a long talk after supper if you wish, but right now I need to teach him what I mean when I say respecting another person's property. How's Lizzie?" she asked, and Cody thought it sounded like an afterthought.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I think she's going to be okay," Peter said. "I'm still not really clear on what she saw or how she got ahold of it...."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I know what she saw," Becky snapped. "Not as bad as it could be, but needless to say that most of us who live here no longer trust Cody at all." He was sure she was trying to make a point, and he banged his head against the desk, feeling humiliated at being talked about as though he wasn't there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Look," Peter said from behind him, and Cody could feel the man approaching. "First of all, his pants are too high up. If you don't get them down, you're not going to be able to get to his thighs. I know that when I was a kid and my mom was whacking my butt, she'd always get me there whenever I fought her. And this one fights a lot, don't you?" Peter asked. Before he could say a word in response, Peter had tugged his jeans and boxers down further, to his ankles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody felt his cheeks heat up again. "You're going to have a tough time with him in this position," Peter was telling Becky. Cody could feel him moving around to the other side of the desk, and his head shot up when his hands were grabbed. "You need him over the desk, feet off the floor, with his butt out. Otherwise how do you expect to get the job done?" Peter asked. Cody could feel the lump in his throat again, and he turned his head and pressed his forehead against the cool surface of the desk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In spite of every effort he had made to act grown up, Cody whimpered. He closed his eyes, cursing himself for giving away the fear that was beginning to churn in his belly as Peter pulled on his hands, pulling him too roughly up and onto the desk. Now only his toes touched the floor, and his fingers reached the other side. Instinctively they curled around the lip of the desk as Cody braced himself for whatever was about to come next. He turned his head to the side and came face to face with the evil looking little paddle that Becky had pulled out of the drawer, and now it was painfully obvious that it was about to be used on him. He closed his eyes, a shudder running through him as his stomach tied in knots. How could he have been stupid enough to think that she actually cared about him the way he cared about her? To think that she cared about him at all? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He had lost track of where Peter was, though he was all too aware of Becky's movement behind him. It seemed as though every nerve in his body was on end, and his every inch of flesh was on edge and waiting for what was about to begin. A moment too late, he remembered the piece of saddle leather that she'd set on the desk, and it was only when he opened his eyes to see it being removed that he really understood what was about to happen to him. His head shot up, his blue eyes going wide with sudden, real fear. "No!" he cried. "You can't... You wouldn't... I'm too old for this!" he said in a last vain attempt to make the process stop. His good sense told him that she wasn't going to relent simply because he told her to. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I can, and I'm going to," came the female voice from behind him. Cody lifted his head a little bit and looked back at the redhead, his eyes watering and his stomach churning. "And if you move a muscle out of place, we'll start over until you submit adequately to your punishment, Cody Aaron York. Whatever else you have done since you have been here, this is very, very serious, and I want you to understand the consequences of your actions. I have no other way to teach you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody opened his mouth to point out that she had already taken his computer, and that was more than enough punishment, but before he could draw the breath to speak the strap had cut across him, and he could have sworn that it cut right through him. He howled, his head flying back as he let out a long wail, his fingers gripping more tightly to the desk as he now pulled himself forward. His feet were dangling now, which made him feel all the more weak and helpless. "No, no," he panted, shaking his head from side to side. He wasn't ready! His entire world had crumbled only minutes before from thinking that there was something between him and his guardian to falling apart when she seemingly condemned him. He was ready to talk about this, to be a man and confess to everything, how he'd cracked and hacked his way into the porn sites, but before he could say another word, he was cut in half again, and his head fell as he gasped for breath. He couldn't speak, could hardly even cry out. She wasn't talking, and the only thing he could do was cling desperately to the other side of the desk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The strap ripped across Cody again, and his hand slipped on the other side of the desk, one of his feet kicking up as a means of fruitless self defense. He bit back his cry of pain, already humiliated and ashamed beyond words. He felt like a helpless child with his feet dangling now, his butt stuck out and being shredded by Ms. Becky's strap. He was breathing heavily, and tears were pouring down his cheeks already. The piece of leather was making the inexperienced Cody crumble very quickly, and in spite of everything he was sure that he would do his best for a long time to avoid anything like this ever happening to him again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">After the third, there was a brief pause. Cody couldn't focus enough, and he opened his watering eyes and lifted his head to look over his shoulder in the hopes that it was over and done with. Instead, Becky seemed to be repositioning herself and speaking to Peter, but Cody couldn't hear what they were saying. He raised up a little bit more, hopefully, and Peter's hand pushed his shoulder back down onto the desk wordlessly. "Six is enough," Cody heard him say. "If you've ever had a dose of the strap yourself, you know that."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I have, and it took a lot more than six to get through to me," Becky's voice snapped. "And I never did anything nearly as serious as what he's done over the past two weeks!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'm telling you, it's enough," Peter said, and Cody took a deep breath, surprised to find the guy on his side. Suddenly Peter didn't sound like such a jerk at all. "If you consider that you're planning on having him over your desk every night after supper for the next three nights, I think that six is plenty. I'll take care of the rest, just get it done and leave the kid be," Peter said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody winced. "Every night for..." he said, raising his head again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Every night for three nights," Becky confirmed. "To make sure that this very serious lesson has sunk in. And you're grounded to your room for three days as well. You aren't allowed to be anywhere near <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> until I'm sure that she has adequately recovered from seeing the pictures on your computer. Get your head down and back into position."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Everything within Cody screamed out that he should defy her, that there was no way he could suffer through another three strokes of that horrible strap. Everything in him said that he should run for his life, get up, kick off his jeans and shorts and run. He was too old to be treated like this, and he was sure that he could find some way to make it on his own. But for some reason, he couldn't move. He felt as though he was glued to the desk, and as though he was floating from somewhere outside his body. Years later he would recall the incident with an understanding that it was a defense mechanism, but for now he felt disjointed and outside of himself, at least until Becky picked up the strap again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The fourth cut landed at the most sensitive part of his butt, the place where it met with the backs of his legs. There was a crease there, a tender area where he would feel the strapping every single time he sat down for several days. It felt truly as though Becky had branded him, and he threw back his head and wailed again, tears and snot pouring down his face. He was finding it difficult to breathe with everything so clogged up, and Cody shook his head from side to side, wordlessly begging Becky to stop what she was doing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">But she didn't, and the next landed across the backs of his legs, low enough that the mark would be visible below his shorts. His left hand flew off the desk and started to move back to rub the welted area, but Peter was quick. The man grabbed Cody's hand and put it back in place. "Do not move," he growled, and Cody's blue eyes went wide, finding Peter so close to him. Now his hands were pinned to the desk, and Cody's legs kicked out behind him in protest as he tried to prepare for the sixth (and what he was hopeful would be final) stroke. He was whimpering almost non-stop, and he twisted his hands in Peter's grip as though he might be able to break free and then... do what? Stop her? There was no way, as by now he was quite exhausted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The sixth stroke seemed to take forever to come, and Cody felt as though she was teasing him by making him wait for it. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Peter or to see Becky any more. He couldn't stand the sight of them. He barely jumped when the last, hard stroke of the strap landed just above his knees, searing white hot pain into his legs. He was suddenly glad that he wasn't supporting himself on them, because he would have fallen right away, and then the punishment would have started again. Now he just let his hands be held by Peter, and he stopped bothering to care that he was bawling like a little baby over Becky's desk. He just wanted somewhere to hide, or better yet, he wanted his mother there to hold him and tell him that it was alright, that he was going home, and these horrible, evil people would never be able to touch him again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It seemed like forever before Peter finally let go of his hands. "Get up, fix your clothing and go stand in the corner. Becky and I need to talk about what's going to happen with you next," Peter said. His voice wasn't as sharp as Cody remembered before, and his eyes rose briefly to meet the blue eyed gaze of the elder. Then he slipped off the desk, falling onto his knees. His hands went back to grasp his burning butt, fingers tightly digging into his flesh as though doing so would relieve the pain. He would be sore from that strapping alone for several days. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Up," said Becky's voice this time. "Get up, fix your clothing, and go stand in the corner. One of us will come and get you when it's time for you to go to your room and have a talk with Peter," she said. "Now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">On shaky knees, Cody stood up. Peter reached a hand down and grasped his arm, helping to pull him to his feet. A moment later the shorts and jeans were up and pulled over his throbbing butt and legs, and Cody hobbled into the corner. "No rubbing," Peter said in a hard voice into his ear. And then they were gone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody tried to keep breathing deeply and evenly, a breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Somewhere along the line he had been taught that he could control pain and impulses that way, but right now it wasn't working for him. The pain was fierce, and though the immediate flame had gone out of his butt, he felt as though it was still burning. He desperately wanted to rub, but the thought occurred to him that as little as Becky said she trusted him, she might have the room bugged somehow. Instead he leaned against the wall and allowed himself to cry, no longer caring whether nor not one of them walked in. </span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-4941845487868872952010-08-06T18:54:00.000-07:002010-08-06T18:55:15.938-07:00Foster Forest (12): TV or Not TV... That is the question...<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky felt winded. Her hair was hanging in her face, the wispy strands around her ears curling from the humidity, and she was breathing heavily. The workout had done her some good, and in spite of the complaining aches in her body she was sure that she had benefitted from the rough ride around the paddock. It had been the first in quite some time, and she knew that both she and the horse would be better off for it. She felt refreshed, as though she could finally return to her job as administrator at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place> with some peace of mind and a clear head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was such a relief to have Cody around! Sure, he wasn't always as responsible as she would like, but he was a teenager, and the way Becky saw it, that was typical. Cody meant that she could get out of the house from time to time and leave him with the younger children, just for an hour or so in order that she could get some of the necessary work around the facility done. It meant that she could spend some time with the horses, who were nearly as much a responsibility as the children, and that she might ultimately be able to dismiss the man she had hired to take care of them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky was ready to head into the Great Room to relieve Cody. She guzzled down a bottle of water, tossed the empty into the recycling and walked out into the main room. None of the children were there, so she began a systematic check. Lizze, as Becky would have expected, was in the library with a book. She looked up at waved, and Becky waved back with an affectionate smile. She did care a great deal for Elizabeth and the boys and it was nice to finally be able to admit that she'd made the right choice in opening the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Moving on, Becky poked her head into the game room. She hadn't taken the time to remove the television in there, since she had assumed that there would be future children who would be able to watch appropriately, and she couldn't allow <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> to spoil it for everyone. She felt that she was making real progress with him now, since he was no longer asking for meals in advance of meal time, and he had now lost twenty-five pounds. Only ten more pounds to go according to the doctor's orders, and he would be at a healthy weight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The sight that met Becky had both of her eyebrows raising all the way up into her hairline. For a long moment she simply leaned against the doorframe and watched what was going on in the room, waiting for the two boys to acknowledge her presence. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward while Cody leaned back against the cushions, flipping through the channels. Because Becky was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had locked the television so that it could only be used with a password, she was quite surprised to find that the two boys were channel surfing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">After nearly two minutes of watching the transfixed youngsters, Becky cleared her throat. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> turned toward her and waved, but Cody's face was flushed when he turned his blue eyes toward her. She could detect a hint of embarrassment, but Becky knew that what was under that was the fact that Cody knew he'd been caught. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Hey Ms. Becky!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> said cheerfully. Becky turned her gaze toward him, raising her eyebrows again. "Cody figured out how to use the TV, so we can watch again. You wanna watch with us?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky went into the room and held her hand out to Cody, wiggling her fingers to indicate that he should give her the remote. She took it from him and flipped the television off, set the remote down, and pulled out her cell phone. A moment later she was on the phone with Peter. "Peter, can you come over and pick up the television? I was thinking you could take it to your house. I didn't think that it was going to cause a problem, but since it seems to have, I'd like to just get it out of the way so that we don't have to worry about it any more. Thanks."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She shoved the phone back into her pocket and went to stand in front of the television, looking down at the two boys. "I'm sorry, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>," Becky said, "But you remember that I told you that you weren't allowed to watch television, don't you? I didn't give Cody the codes, and he shouldn't have been trying to figure them out, either. That was very, very naughty." She glanced at both faces, both pairs of blue eyes, and then pointed to the door. "Both of you to your rooms. I'll be up there to deal with you both in just a moment. Go."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Nearly twenty minutes later Peter had the wide screen television hoisted out and into the back of the truck Becky kept for utility. She was confident that it would make it into his house, even though he had about as much use for a television as she did. Both of them spent too much time doing things they felt were more important than sitting in front of the boob tube all day long. In truth, she simply couldn't understand why <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> wouldn't prefer to be outside playing, maybe with a fishing pole in the pond, or even exploring the horses. As for Cody, she just didn't have him figured out yet, but she knew she would get there in time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">For now there were more important things to worry about.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky slowly trekked up the stairs, past the girl's floor and all the way up to the second floor where the boys had their rooms. She hesitated for a moment before going to the end of the hall where <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s bedroom was. The way that she figured it, he hadn't been the primary culprit in today's escapade. Although she was sure that he knew the rules about television (only on the weekends and only with supervision), she also felt that because she had left Cody in charge, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> might have been at least somewhat misled. She was willing to hear his side of the story, though one way or another he was going to wind up with a very red and very sore backside by the time the afternoon was over.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It felt almost strange to Becky that she felt bad about this. Of course she never liked to have to spank one of the children, but right now, after such a great ride, she couldn't quite muster up enough anger to make her feel righteous about administering discipline. In fact, she'd left her hairbrush downstairs in her apartment, determined that the palm of her hand would be sufficient this time. And she hoped that it would be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Hesitating outside <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s door, Becky took a deep breath, steeling herself and forcing her features into what she hoped was a stern expression. She raised her hand and rapped on the door and then pushed it open, looking around inside for the little boy. He was sitting on his bed looking somewhat confused, and Becky sighed, her resignation slipping considerably. She went to sit down next to him on the bed and wrap her arm around his shoulders. "You look confused," she said, hoping to start him talking so that she could get a better idea of what was going on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little boy shrugged, and Becky moved so that she was leaning back on her hands. She was no longer touching him, and if she had been a threat then she wouldn't be a threat any longer. She looked at the child and cocked her head, doing her best to leave him an opening. "Tell me what's going on, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>," she said encouragingly. "I want to know. Because I'm sure that you knew it was against the rules for you two to be watching television.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She kept her eyes on the child's face as he visibly struggled for a moment. For a moment she felt that she could understand his struggle, because she had a similar internal struggle of her own. Being a parent (of any sort) was much more difficult than Becky had initially thought it would be, and now she was left feeling as though she was failing the children. She stood firm in her belief that television was an unnecessary luxury, and she maintained in her own mind that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> needed to be outside catching bugs and frogs like a "normal" seven year old. Where she found herself caught was when she thought about how to handle the disciplining of a child who was clearly confused and very much out of his element.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> wasn't talking, and on some level she couldn't blame him. Like her, he knew that he was about to get spanked. They had both come to that conclusion before she had even reached his room; she was sure of it. "Alright. Jackie, I am giving you one last chance to tell me what happened downstairs. If you say nothing, then I'm just going to get this over with and you can spend the rest of the afternoon in your room."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It felt like a decree, and it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself from tacking the grounding on as though it was anything better than an afterthought. Becky sighed, feeling her cheeks heat up as she looked toward <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> again. His mouth was open, his blue eyes wide. There were little lines between his brows where he was frowning slightly, and his mouth had a pouty look about it that told her he was about to protest. Again Becky sighed, and she was about to begin the process of tugging down his jeans. Instead, he chose that moment to speak up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Cody said he could make the television work, and he said it was okay because you left him in charge while you were out," <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> said. His words came out in a rush, so fast that Becky was, at first, unclear as to what she had heard. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She was about to ask him to repeat himself more slowly when everything clicked right into place. "So Cody told you that you could watch television?" Becky asked, wanting to be sure that she understood what the little boy was saying. When he nodded his head, she sighed and went on. "And even though it is clearly against the rules, you believed him?" she asked. Again <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> nodded, though this time the color had drained out of his face. Becky nodded, seeing that he understood her completely. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You and Cody decided to break the rules," Becky said seriously. Though she was sympathetic to what <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> would be feeling at that moment, she wanted to be sure he understood that his actions had consequences. Between them the two boys had decided that it was alright for them to break the rules if the adults were out of the house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Sitting up, Becky patted <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> on the thigh. "I'm going to give you a spanking," she told him gently. "It's going to hurt, but afterward you can go downstairs and play. Maybe we can have lunch outside today and then we'll play outdoors with Lizzie." She thought briefly about seeing whether or not she could get Peter involved in the game, and then dismissed the thought. He still needed his time to paint.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky put her hand on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s back and gave a gentle push to guide him off the bed so that he was standing in front of her. She put her hands on his jeans and slowly popped the button out, then unzipped them and pushed them down to his knees. She sat up and took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze that she hoped was reassuring, and then lifted him up and over her lap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">For a moment Becky hesitated over <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s briefs, her hand hovering over the waistband for several seconds before abandoning it. Jackie had known the rules when he allowed Cody to hack into the television. He knew he wasn't to be watching television except on the weekends, and he could have walked away from Cody's misbehavior if he'd wanted to. The rules had to be reinforced, but that didn't stop her from feeling a pang of guilt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was the guilt that caused Becky to leave <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s briefs in place. When she finally raised her hand, it came down in a half-hearted spank that she knew would do little more than sting. She would reserve any real fury for Cody, who was the primary culprit in the day's misbehavior. And Cody would be getting another lesson in the rules very shortly as well. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Still, she couldn't stop herself from thinking of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> as the victim as her hand came down in sharp, crisp spanks against his covered bottom. She spanked evenly, from one side to the other, and quickly, but she didn't spank hard. More than anything her goal was to get her charge's attention and not to actually cause him real hurt. In fact, she was so focused on the color of his bottom around the edges of his underpants that she didn't even speak during the spanking, as was her habit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was over after only twenty crisp spanks. Even so, the seven year-old was showing some pink around the edges of his briefs and he was sniffling when she guided him up onto his feet again. She reached down to tug his jeans back up over his bottom, and then allowed him to zip and button them himself. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> stood there sniffling for nearly a minute, while Becky felt completely at a loss for how to comfort him or to explain what had happened. Finally she reached down and pulled him gently into her lap, sitting him against her knee. He was finally light enough that she was comfortable having him in her lap with his head against her shoulder (rather than sitting next to her and leaning on her).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Jackie," Becky sighed softly, giving him a gentle kiss to his temple. "What am I going to do with you?" For a moment she rocked, though he wasn't crying, only sniffling a little bit. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky plucked a tissue from the box on the night stand and handed it to the little boy, allowing him to blow his nose and clear himself up a little bit. "I wish I didn't have to do that, Jackie," she said unapologetically. "You need to learn the rules, sweetheart. And next time Cody does something you know is against the rules, you need to tell me. Just walk away and tell me. If Mr. Peter or I aren't here, then wait until we are and let us know then. If we are here, then just find us and let us know. We can't help you unless you let us." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky kissed the little boy's cheek again and slid him gently out of her lap. "Why don't you go downstairs and see if you can find Lizzie. Maybe you two can play for a bit until I get back down there and then we can all go outside and have a picnic. Okay?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little boy sniffled and looked as though he was about to say something, but instead he just nodded his head and rushed for the door. Becky sighed again and closed her eyes. She had been trying to avoid thinking about the headache that was beginning to throb at her temples, but it was time now for her to take some aspirin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Instead of going straight to Cody's room, Becky followed <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> downstairs and then went to her apartment, unlocking the door and letting herself in. She went to the bathroom and pulled down the aspirin from the medicine cabinet, took up a glass of water and swallowed two at once. She glanced in the mirror and then closed her eyes wearily. Parenting wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Even with a basic parenting philosophy in mind, she couldn't seem to get all of her ducks in a row. As it was, she blamed herself for the fact that things were seemingly falling apart. She wasn't going to put that responsibility on Cody, who seemed to just need to learn the rules, commit them to memory, and then follow them. It was her responsibility to ensure that he did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">With that thought, she pushed back from the sink, braced her shoulders and lifted her chin. Becky took a deep breath and quickly put herself together. She and Cody were about to have a very serious talk that she hoped with help Cody to understand the importance of obeying the rules and the reasons why she had them. In this case, Becky wanted to make sure that the children were spending their time in active pursuits rather than being glued to the television all day, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s health was part of the issue. The doctors were worried about his heart if he didn't lose the weight, or even about juvenile diabetes. It would be unfair of Becky to allow <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> to do whatever he wanted and risk his personal health as a result.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Realizing that Cody probably didn't understand all of this, Becky knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be a difficult one. It wasn't his business what was going on with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s health, and she would have to choose her words carefully. At the same time, he was fourteen years old and clearly needed to have a better control over his impulses. And if the television incident hadn't been an impulse, there were even bigger problems that she would need to sort through with the youngster.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">At the door, Becky doubled back for her hairbrush. The more she thought about what Cody had done the more certain she was that the back of her hand was not going to be enough to get her point across. She'd consistently used the hairbrush for almost every spanking she'd given since she had opened The Forest, and now, when she thought about it, Cody had stepped over a line knowingly and done something that he knew was on the very edge of illegal. She would not, and could not, give the impression that she was going to tolerate his rule breaking.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">No doubt the teenager was used to being grounded, Becky thought as she headed up the stairs for the second time, hairbrush in hand this time. Peter had taken care of any notions Cody may have had of being let off easy, but she wanted to make sure that she made an impression of her own. The experience would be humiliating for the youngster, but she also hoped that it would make it clear to him that some things simply were not allowed, not in her house, not ever. Respect for the rules was important to Becky, and her rules weren't arbitrary. She restricted television use in order to keep the children active and learning instead of sitting in front of a screen all day. More than that, the use of the television wasn't entirely forbidden, as the children had previously been allowed to watch on the weekends. Now, with the television gone from the house, Becky realized that even that was going to stop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Outside of Cody's door, Becky sighed. She had never known that parenting involved so much disciplining. Somehow in her mind she had envisioned an ability to turn troubled children into happy children overnight, so that they would all play together and roast marshmallows over the fire in the autumn, or go on camping trips in the surrounding woods. This was something altogether different than what she had imagined, and as she raised her hand to rap firmly on Cody's door, she found herself regretting what had to be done. She wouldn't apologize, but she felt as though there had to be a better way to turn this hodge podge of people into a family of sorts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Without waiting for an answer, Becky swung the bedroom door open. Cody was sitting on his bed, his legs crossed Indian style and playing his guitar. It irritated Becky that he looked as though there was nothing wrong in the world, especially when he glanced up at her and, of all things, smiled. She rubbed her fingers over her eyes in exasperation but quickly realized that because of her irritation this wasn't going to be nearly as difficult with Cody as it had been with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky clenched her teeth involuntarily and shook her head at Cody sternly. Before she realized she was doing it, her left hand (the one free of the hairbrush) was shaking in Cody's direction. "Don't you try that act on me, Cody Aaron York. It isn't going to work. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> just got his bottom spanked for his part in this incident, and now it's your turn. Get up," she said, waving her hand at him to get moving. She expected his obedience, just as she had gotten it from Jackie and usually from Lizzie as well. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Instead, Cody looked at her, his mouth hung open and his blue eyes wide. Becky wondered whether or not he was putting on an act or whether he was genuinely surprised by the news she was presenting. She had, herself, walked in on the spanking that Peter had given him, so she knew that it wasn't a foreign concept to him. She raised both of her eyebrows and gestured at him again. "Now, Cody. You knew that you were doing wrong when you reprogrammed that television set, and now you need to pay the consequences for doing it."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"It's not that big a deal," Cody said as he put his guitar aside. "You put me in charge, the kid wanted to watch T.V. and I let him. I don't see why you're so fucking uptight."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky's jaw clenched again, both because of the tone in his voice and because of his word choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She forced herself to relax, though her blood was pumping hard and she could feel the heat in her face and neck as her anger and frustration levels rose. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"It is a big deal, Cody," Becky said. Her tone came out harsh rather than stern, and she had to force herself to speak to him with as much respect as she could muster. "The rules say that television is only for the weekends. Not to mention the fact that the T.V. was passworded and you literally had to break into it in order to access the channels." Becky paused, drawing a breath, and when Cody rolled his eyes she had to plunge her free hand into her pocket to prevent herself from lashing out. It was true that she had a temper, and she didn't want to unleash it on him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"This is my house. You live here. You are going to live by my rules as long as you are here."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"And how long is that?" Cody snapped from where he was now sitting on the edge of his bed. His blue eyes had a steely look in them, and Becky could easily recognize fury.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Until you are eighteen years old. After that you are welcome to stay as long as you like, but you will be here until then, and you will obey my rules for as long as you live here."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well your rules stink. He's a kid, he wants to watch T.V., he should be allowed to watch T.V."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky sat down hard on the edge of the bed, dropping the hairbrush beside her and gripping her slender thighs with her long fingers. The pinch hurt, but it focused her attention on what had to be done and away from her own anger. "Cody, I realize that you are a teenager and that therefore you know everything about everything," Becky said. "But in this case there is information that you don't have. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s well being is my concern, not yours. Your concern is to follow the rules that I have set out for you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky paused. She could remember being a teenager herself, and how it felt as though the entire world was out to get you. She softened, relaxing her shoulders and turning her head to look at Cody. "I'm not going to have you babysit any more. I will have to hire somebody else or ask the groom to come back on the staff to take care of the horses. I can't trust you, Cody," she added, knowing that those words were likely to hurt at least a little bit, even if Cody didn't particularly like her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">When the boy just shrugged his shoulders, Becky knew that she had hit home. He was too cool, and she could see the redness at the back of his neck that indicated he was either angry or embarrassed. She nodded her head confidently and patted Cody's knee. "Okay then," she said. "Get up and pull down your jeans and underpants. When we're done you can stay in here for the rest of the day and think about the rules that you're breaking. The rest of us are going to have a picnic," she added.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"So... I'm grounded?" Cody asked. Becky could hear the tone of relief in his voice, and before she realized what she was doing, she had rolled her eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Yes, Cody. You're grounded for the rest of the day. And the television has been removed downstairs so that this won't happen again. Everybody else is going to suffer because you decided that you were going to crack the password and get in there and watch T.V. In the meantime, you are going to stand up and lower your jeans and underpants so that I can take care of your naughty bottom," she said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky watched as Cody slowly lowered his jeans to his ankles. Picking up the hairbrush, she tapped it impatiently against her left thigh, waiting for him to get the job done so that she could finish the necessary business and move on to get the picnic started with the kids. She might call Peter after all, she decided, just to see if he wouldn't mind spending some time with them on his day off. It was the best way for him to get to know the other residents of the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It seemed that it was taking Cody an unnaturally long time to get his jeans down, and Becky glanced at him to see that he had his hands cupped over the front of his shorts and was moving from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. "Hurry up, Cody," she said briskly. "I don't have all day and I have much better things to do than spanking your naughty little bottom for you. Like anybody, I'd rather be having fun. Come on!" she said, keeping her voice brisk and matter-of-fact. She was, indeed, eager to get outside and check on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> and find out how the others were doing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">But Cody hesitated a moment too long, and Becky dropped the hairbrush next to her and slapped his hands to move them out of her way. Without waiting for his permission, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his shorts, pulled the elastic out to the sides, and tugged them down. She was careful enough, gentle enough, and she expressed no concern over Cody's erection.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Taking a deep breath, Becky patted her lap. "Over you go," she said. Though ordinarily she would have chosen to treat Cody as a mature fourteen year-old, she felt that it was more appropriate for him to experience a juvenile spanking. When he hesitated, she met his eyes, still not looking below the belt, and took his hand, gently pulling him toward her until he had no choice and went unwillingly over the matronly knee. His body was stretched out with his top half laying on the bed and his legs loose behind him where they could kick freely if he felt the need to do so. She tucked her hand around his right side, pulling him as tightly to her as she could manage with such a big child, and then reached for the hairbrush, resting it against his bottom as she began to speak. "Cody, I thought that Peter had given you enough of a lesson regarding our rules. They apply to you just the same as they apply to Jackson or Elizabeth. When you are an adult and you have children in your care, then perhaps you will see things my way. In the meantime, I am responsible for ensuring that you grow up to be a productive young man, and that means that you must learn how to follow the rules that have been set forth. Adults and mature people follow rules. Little children need to be reminded of them. And in this house, that means being reminded with a spanking. And that's what you're going to get."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"But I'm... uh... fourteen," the teenager said, though Becky could hear from his tone that he wasn't particularly confident in his own defense against the coming punishment. She sighed and rapped the hairbrush against his bottom several times.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Yes, Cody," Becky said. Then she brought the hairbrush down hard on his right bottom cheek. She repeated this on the left side, spanking with as much force as she could muster. Already big red splotches appeared, and the teenager gasped out with surprise. "You are fourteen years old, and that is plenty old enough to know better than to deliberately break the rules," she said, moving down to his thighs and delivering a hard two spanks, one to each thigh. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The boy's legs kicked out behind him. The right shoe had been untied and it went flying. Becky blinked a couple of times, and then returned to the spanking in earnest, using as much strength as she could muster to deliver extremely hard blows to the teenager's quivering backside. "Now since you chose to act like a little child, I am going to spank you over my knee just like you were a little child. You absolutely know that you are to obey the rules that we've given you." She continued to spank, the spanks hard rather than crisp, pummeling the teenager's bottom as it grew increasingly read. He wasn't howling like the younger children did, but the boy did grunt and cry out with every spank. It was clear to Becky that he was doing his best to keep his composure, but his legs continued to kick, and after less than a minute he had begun to twist and squirm across her lap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky paused briefly and pulled Cody back in to her tightly. Her lips were pressed together and there was an ache in her jaw from where she had been clenching her teeth together. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No more! Oh God please no more!" Cody cried out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Yes, there's more," Becky said sharply. The hairbrush began to fall again, and she knew that she wasn't going to be satisfied that the lesson was learned until his bottom was a deep shade of red and he wasn't going to sit comfortably at least through the next day. He would need to show her that he could act like a teenager and not like the little child she'd been seeing so far that day. "When you're ready for this spanking to end, I will know, young man," she said, her aggravation getting the better of her as the hairbrush fell hard on first the right cheek, then the left.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She was moving quickly, hard and fast in a way that she knew would make it hard for Cody to catch his breath. And sure enough, before long he was sobbing over her lap, completely defeated. Whatever appearances Cody may have given during the other parts of the day, right now he was just a little boy who had received a very thorough spanking. But Becky wasn't finished. Though she was no longer riding high on the agitation that she had felt only moments ago, she finished up with a dozen hard spanks to the backs of the boy's thighs before tossing the hairbrush aside. She kept her left hand tucked around Cody's side so that the teenager was still held tightly and firmly, and she kept her arm in a position that blocked his hand from reaching back to rub his burning buttocks. They were so hot that she could feel the heat coming off of him, and after a moment she allowed her right hand to fall against the agitated and reddened flesh. She could no longer feel him pressed against her leg, and it occurred to Becky that the spanking had been sufficiently thorough to truly get the job done.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Cody Aaron York, grown ups know that there is a value in rules, and they follow those rules. The rules here are just like the laws the government has set out; if you break them, you're going to be punished in just the same way as any other child would be here. Privileges come with obedience and good behavior. You are old enough to know that and to expect to be punished when you've done something wrong. I'm not going to keep talking to you about this. By now you should understand. The next time you break a rule (which, I might add, includes respecting the personal property of others) you are going to find yourself right back here, over my lap or bent over the bed for an even stricter punishment than what you just got."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky paused and sighed. The anger and agitation was gone, but in its place was left a feeling of displacement. She moved her hand up to the boy's back and gently rubbed in slow circles, then shifted her weight so that he should stand up. She kept her eyes on his face as he did so, not shying away from his tears as he yanked up his boxers over his red rear end and then kicked his jeans aside. She could understand how he felt about not wanting to wear them at that moment. In fact, she had been there, done that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky took a deep breath and let it out slowly between her lips. She ran a hand back through her auburn hair and tucked it behind her ears. Her fingers came away moist, and she realized that she had begun to sweat somewhere along the lines. Rolling her eyes, Becky stood up. It would be later that night before she could grab a shower, so she was going to have to make due. She pulled her hair up into a pony tail and wrapped it around itself, tucking the ends in so that it held without a holder or pins. By the time she was finished, Cody was dressed again, his hands covering his bottom. She was surprised to see that he didn't do the post spanking dance, and she wondered momentarily if she should go hard on him next time, but then dismissed the thought. Teenager or not, he was still a kid, and he didn't need it any harder than she'd given it to him, at least for the offense he'd committed. She was sure that he would think twice before violating anyone's personal property again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Pushing herself up off the bed, Becky took one last glance at Cody. "In the future I expect an apology when I've had to take time out of my day to punish you, young man. You can stay in your room until supper time and then you'll come right up here afterward as well. I'll bring some lunch up after we've had ours," she added. "And you can eat here."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">With that she turned and went out of the room. As she reached the door, Becky felt emotion overwhelming her, and she stopped just outside, pulling the door shut behind her and leaning against the wall. "I'm not going to let this conquer me," she said aloud, very quietly. With that she headed downstairs to prepare a picnic lunch and to gather the children together to enjoy it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lunch was finished an hour later, and the children were outside playing with Peter, who had chosen to join them. It did Becky's heart good to see him interacting with the younger children, especially when he was letting himself relax and not getting uptight or angry about something. And it seemed as though the two younger children were getting along better, which made Becky feel relieved, even though her mind was with Cody, in his room and missing out on the fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He deserved his punishment, of course. Becky stood confidently on the principles that the rules she had set were there for a reason, and that she was helping to build the character of these children and shaping them into something better than what they were. None of them were bad kids; in fact, Becky wasn't sure that she believed in "bad" kids. She didn't consider them "troubled" either, though Cody somehow seemed to be borderline. She knew so little about him, and he wasn't talking, though it was clear to her that he'd never suffered any real abuse (at least not if you didn't count his horrid social worker!). He was quiet most of the time, though when he chose to speak he seemed to let rip with hostile language. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">No, Cody had lessons that he needed to learn, and missing out on the day's activities would show him that he needed to obey the rules or suffer the consequences. She wouldn't allow herself to feel badly about topping off his spanking with a grounding as well. It would be over tomorrow, though his rear end would probably still be quite sore for the next several days, at least every time that he sat down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Now Becky carried a plate with a hot dog and some potato chips on it up to Cody's room. The meal was small, but she figured it would get him through until dinner. She gave a gentle knock on his door and then opened it, poking her head in to make sure that she was welcome. Cody was laying face down on his bed, his head on his pillow as he seemingly stared at the wall. She entered and set the plate down on his desk, then sighed, giving the teenager what she hoped was a sympathetic look.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Cody seemed to scramble to his feet, and Becky raised her eyebrows slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. "I'm sorry, Ms. Becky," he said, his head down. "I'm gonna apologize to the kid, too, just as soon as I can. I'm sorry I got the T.V. taken away from everybody and I'm sorry I made you mad. I'll try not to do it again. Sorry," he repeated, as though saying it more often would make it more true.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky crossed the room and gently put her hands on Cody's shoulders, then used her right hand to lift his chin. She kissed him wordlessly on the cheek and gave him a tight hug before turning to leave the room and leave the teen in peace to deal with his own thoughts and to eat his lunch. They could talk about this more in the coming days. She would want to make sure that the message was fully reinforced, and if the latent pain in his backside wasn't enough, she would be having several talks with Cody about respecting property and setting a good example for the younger children.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-43761665773936898692010-08-01T15:18:00.000-07:002010-08-01T15:18:23.855-07:00Foster Forest (11): And the Rules Apply to YOU!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The past eight days had gone by as smoothly as possible. Though he wasn't exactly settling in, Cody was comfortable enough in his new surroundings. He had mostly kept to himself, though he liked the other residents just fine. It seemed that the little girl mostly read in the library, and Cody had left her to it. There were plenty of other places in the home to be alone, even if Becky didn't let him stay the entire time in his room. The kid, the little boy, was okay, but Cody thought he was a bit odd, clinging to Becky all the time and always so tearful. He didn't dislike him, but he didn't want the kid to stick to him like glue either. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">There was nobody else at the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place> his own age, and as far as he could tell, nobody shared his interests. Since it was summer, there was no school so that he could get out of the place and meet some different people. The countryside was nice, but there was nothing for him to do, and he felt bored and listless. He needed his friends, missed his parents and most of all, he felt smothered by his new existence. There were too many rules, too many things to remember, and he found himself wondering what would happen if he got a failing grade in school.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody was sitting on the porch swing, his legs tucked up under him and his laptop on his lap. AOL instant messenger was open and his fingers were tapping away at the keys while he chatted with his girlfriend back at home. He didn't even know if they were going to be able to stay steady with him living in this place! He could never see her, and chances were that she'd find some other guy who was interested. Somebody local. The thought made him seethe, but he bit the feeling back and didn't say a word to Celine about it. Whatever happened was going to happen and there was no way that he could change it. The old bag had put him here, and he didn't think she was going to change her mind about it at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">He hadn't told Celine much about the place he was living at. In fact, Cody hadn't thought much about the things he didn't want to say. Walking in the kitchen the first day he'd arrived had been an eye opening experience. He'd never been spanked much growing up, and when he had been it had only been a couple of swats here and there. Nothing like what he'd seen Becky doing to the little girl's bottom when he'd happened along. Both kids had bright red butts as they were standing in the corner afterward, too, and that made Cody nearly sick on his stomach. He couldn't imagine what that would feel like, and he was only glad that he was old enough to be free from the risk of a spanking!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody was pretty sure that the little girl had been avoiding him since he'd seen her spanking. The few times he'd walked into the library while she'd been in there reading, she had turned her head away from him and stared out the window until he left. The signals were pretty clear, and although he probably felt as uncomfortable as she did, he figured that it was best to give her the space that she needed. He couldn't imagine how embarrassed he would be if he got a spanking and somebody walked in on it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Strangely, she seemed to be pretty close to the old man, and he'd been right there with Cody when they'd walked into the kitchen. The little girl appeared to like both him and Becky well enough, though Cody got the sense that she wasn't especially fond of the kid -- the little boy who's name Cody didn't know at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The little boy was entirely a different story. Cody thought he might be imagining things, but he thought it seemed as though Becky frequently rebuffed the little guy, and that the dude (good grief, what was his name?) didn't really interact with the kid much at all. What this amounted to was the fact that the little guy was always hanging on Cody, and it felt to the teenager as though he was hardly ever able to get a moment of peace. It amazed him even now that he'd had time to hop on the Internet to talk to his girlfriend. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"When do you get out?" Celine was asking him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Never, I guess," he typed. "lol"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;"><a name='more'></a></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">That just about summed up the way that Cody was feeling, too. He hadn't talked to the hag about how long he had to stay here, but he got the sense from the conversations he'd overheard that this was the only place that would take teenagers long-term. And of course the grown ups wanted him to have a long-term place to go. Nobody had asked him what he wanted, about what his dreams were. He figured if he was lucky he could get emancipated within the next couple of years and strike out on his own, but he might have to get the hag's approve for that plan, and he doubted she'd go for it. There was the young, pretty woman, the one who had stood up for him in court while decisions had been made. He thought maybe he could appeal to her, but it would help a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lot</i> if he could remember her blasted name!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody glanced up and looked out across the property, his eyes scanning the pond and then the area where he'd heard Becky promising a play area for the younger kids. It was a beautiful place, and he liked the serenity of it all, but it wasn't home. The thought of Becky putting up a play area for the younger kids was nice, and it made him think that she must really care about them. She hadn't made any provisions for him, and he was pretty sure she didn't care much about what he did. It didn't matter in the long run, as far as Cody was concerned. He'd go on his own way and she could do what she wanted with the little kids.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody was about to turn back to the screen when he heard the voice of the man, Paul? shouting for him. "Cody Aaron York!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The tone in that voice knocked the breath out of Cody instantly, and before he could think about what he was doing, he was slamming the lid on his laptop. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. He tripped over his foot and nearly went down, grappling for the swing and the laptop so that it wouldn't smash to the ground. He knew that tone of voice, it was one he'd heard his mother use on several occasions when he'd been in real trouble and about to get grounded for a week, or sometimes even two! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Immediately Cody's mind began to reel. What had he done? He could think of nothing that they may have detected, other than his being on the Internet. He'd had to hack into the wireless network in order to access AOL instant messenger to talk to Celine, but he couldn't figure how they would know he'd done it, unless they had a way of monitoring which machines were currently logged on at any given point in time. He didn't think that the grown ups had that much knowledge of how to work the Internet, and therefore he was pretty sure that he was safe in that regard.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Moving quickly, Cody stood up and started for the door. "I'm coming!" he called into the house as he scrambled to get inside. What could the guy want? He couldn't think of anything, and so far the grown ups had mostly left him to himself. He ate dinner with Becky every night, and the guy was around more on the weekends than he was during the week, but Cody hadn't been there but eight days, and getting used to names wasn't his strong suit. Especially when he didn't see someone often.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The man was standing by the desk that had been his welcome to the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>. He looked agitated, and he had a big laundry bag in one hand. The expression on the man's face set Cody's heart to beating even harder, and he frowned as he approached the man and put his computer on the desk. "Yeah?" he asked, trying to keep his tone calm and wondering what on earth the guy's problem was. He'd much rather be outside chatting with Celine on his laptop or even upstairs in his room and playing his guitar and daydreaming than dealing with this guy. He'd mostly left the grown ups alone and stayed out of their way. He hadn't asked for anything, and he had hoped that they'd leave him alone in return.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The guy had an odd expression on his face and Cody felt his stomach pitch. He'd thought of Paul... Pat? as being a pretty easygoing guy, laid back and not stressing out so much. But the way he was looking at Cody right now made the fourteen year-old's blood run cold. He stopped moving, his hand on the laptop, and turned to meet the man's cold blue eyes. "Uh... What's up?" he asked, withering quickly under the intensity of the man's gaze. He tried to keep his tone casual, avoiding the confrontation that he knew was coming, but there was a lump in his throat that made him sound less than confident, even to his own ears.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"This," the guy said, lifting the bag beside him, "is the problem. I distinctly recall Ms. Becky telling you that you were to keep your room clean, and that laundry was done on Fridays. Well... Here it is Friday afternoon, and I go into your room to pick up your laundry bag, and it's... empty. The clothes are scattered all over your floor, the bed is unmade, there's a guitar on your desk... The room is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mess</i>!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Umm... Yeah," Cody said, a wave of relief washing over him. At least this wasn't all that big a deal, right? He could rush up to the room, do a quick tidying job and get the laundry put together. "I was going to get to that. I just had some other stuff I wanted to get done first. It's okay, I'll go do it now." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody was about to grab his laptop and move away when the guy put a hand on his chest to stop him. The youngster froze, and for a moment he felt as though he couldn't move. His heart was pounding harder than ever, and he could hear the thunderous roar in his ears. "Don't touch me!" he exclaimed. Fear was like a punch in the gut. Struggling to breathe deeply, Cody added, "I'm going to do it. Just let me go. I'm going to do it."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"No," the guy said. "You aren't. I've already picked up your room for you," he added. "What you're going to do is march yourself right into the kitchen where we will discuss this matter at length."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The guy stood back, and Cody couldn't help but stare at him. What could he possibly mean "discuss this matter at length?" Cody didn't like the idea of discussing anything with this guy, especially not in the kitchen, where he'd seen the two little kids getting paddled by Becky. Sure, she'd mentioned cleaning his room a few times, and Cody had kind of brushed her off. He could understand why this guy might be ticked off at him, but come on! He was fourteen years old. He didn't need to be told again. He'd get to it next week, when it was time to clean up the room and get the clothes put together. No discussions needed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Go," the man said. His voice was stern, and though Cody would have much preferred to retreat to his room and the comfort of his music, he instead began what seemed like a very long trek into the kitchen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody could feel tension in his shoulders, and a headache was beginning to brew at the base of his skull, the back of his neck where a knot always formed around term time in school. His mind flashed briefly to the time that his father caught him with a cigarette. He hadn't even lit it, but his dad had gone ballistic, all red in the face and yelling at Cody. He'd been grounded for a month that time and had never even thought about picking up another cigarette until his parents had... Well, he wasn't going to think about that now. His mind was too much occupied with the man who stalked along behind him as they finally reached the kitchen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Going straight to the sink, Cody turned around and put his palms up on the counter. He was about to heave himself up onto it when he realized that he'd be putting his butt right into the sink. He glanced around the kitchen and then finally moved his gaze back to the guy's face. The blue eyes seemed to be staring deeply into him, and Cody gave an involuntary shudder. The guy sure did know how to make somebody uncomfortable!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"So what do you want to talk to me about?" Cody asked, trying to sound much braver than he felt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"The rules," the guy said. He reached into his back pocket, and a moment later Cody realized that the man had been carrying a small but cruel-looking paddle in his back pocket. The man put it down on the table and then turned his gaze back to look at Cody. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The teenager tried not to look at the paddle. Maybe the man just carried it around with him everywhere he went, stuck by the handle in his back pocket. If he was going to be sitting down, he'd be a lot more comfortable without some piece of wood sticking out back there. Or maybe he'd just been dealing with one of the younger kids. After all, Cody had been outside, and he wouldn't have heard anything, he shouldn't think. It was just as likely that their rooms were a mess, right?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"You see, we have rules here," the man was saying, gesturing toward a poster board with hand written rules on it. "There are several of them, all of which you were told the day that you arrived. I remember, because I told them to you. Right now we're dealing with rules five and seven." The man gestured toward the poster board. "Why don't you read those for me?" he asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody felt his blood run cold. He hated anything to do with rituals. His aunt had once put him through his paces, making him recite off her rules when he'd stayed with her for a week in July when he was ten. He hadn't broken a single one of them, and therefore hadn't been forced to face punishment, but the ritual of it still made him nervous. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">He braced himself against the counter and turned his head toward the list of rules. "Um..." Cody said, blinking several times. His vision wasn't clear, almost as though there was some kind of a fog across his eyes. "Five says 'Always do as you're told.'" He paused, struggling to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. It seemed to him that Ms. Becky had told him something about picking up his room, just a couple of days before. And it seemed to him that she'd mentioned something about Mr.... Whatever his name was... not liking a mess at all. Cody had to figure it was meant as a warning, but it was too late for him to pick up on that now. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Number seven was the rule that really had Cody worried, now. He was sure that once he was done reading it out he was going to find out that he was restricted to the house for the next week until he could prove himself. It wasn't much of a grounding, of course, because where was he going to go? Maybe he wouldn't get dessert on Friday nights for a couple of weeks along with the rest of the group. It was impossible for him to comprehend that he paddle might be intended for him, and although there was a niggle at the back of his mind, he pushed it aside. "Seven says to always keep the home clean and to pick up after yourself," he said. He spoke slowly and with some deliberation, and then, finally, turned back to face the man. With a great effort to appear flippant, as though nothing mattered to him at all, as though the man's angry visage didn't worry him, Cody shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't figure that meant my own room. I mean, that's <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> place. What's it matter to you?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The man blinked several times, and Cody noticed that it seemed that his cheeks were becoming terribly red. The redness engulfed the man's ears, and if Cody could have taken a step back, he would have done so. There was no question that the expression on the guy's face as he reached out and grabbed Cody's arm was pure fury. Cody tumbled forward as he was tugged, his body falling hard against the table. He let out a grunt, instinctively preparing to push himself up into a standing position again, but before he could do anything, the man was pummeling his butt. Cody didn't know if he was using the paddle he'd brought with him or the palm of his hand. All he knew was that he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hurt</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">All appearances were lost. Cody kicked up his right leg, his foot falling back down to the floor with a thud. He stomped both of his feet as though doing so would stop the flurry of swats to his backside, as though it would put out the dull burning ache that was already beginning. The guy was talking to him from behind, and he could barely make out the words. "Rule two says that you will treat other residents with respect, and that includes me! You will not speak to me that way again Cody Aaron York!" the guy snapped angrily.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Nearly a minute later Cody found himself breathing heavily, nearly exhausted from trying to struggle out from under the guy's grip. He had twisted and turned, but the man was stronger than he was, and much bigger than him, and he'd pinned him effectively against the table. Finally he felt a shove to his back and then the man backed off. Cody was left leaning over the table, his cheek pressed against it, panting from the effort he'd put forth to escape. There were no tears: however much the swats had hurt his butt, he wasn't crying; he wasn't a baby! After a moment, he started to push himself up. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the dreadful looking little paddle, and when he rose, he rubbed his hand against his hot cheek. "Geez!" he gasped, one hand reaching back to rub his butt. "You need to take a fuckin' chill pill, man. I'm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way</i></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">too old to get spanked like those little kids, and it's not that big a deal!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody didn't meet the man's gaze in time to see the expression on his face. Instead, everything happened so fast in a whirlwind that he didn't have a moment to process what was going on. Before he could blink, his jeans had been unbuttoned and tugged down to his knees, just like he was a little kid. He felt the heat in his cheeks spread to his ears and his neck, and his hands instinctively lashed out at the man, trying to push him away so that he couldn't keep doing what he was doing. Worse than all that, the guy was still <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talking to him!</i> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"You know the rules now, Cody York. There is no doubt in my mind that you need what you're about to get. If you didn't want to find out what it felt like to get a spanking from one of us, then you wouldn't be pushing every button!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The guy stood up and stepped back. "Lower your underpants to your knees with your jeans, and then put your hands on the seat of the chair." He turned one of the kitchen chairs around and picked up the paddle. Cody couldn't take his eyes off the guy, even as he felt the heat in his face and neck spread down his chest and meet somewhere near his belly, which was churning with discomfort and what he thought might be real fear of this man. Worse than that, there was a stirring even lower, and he felt his mouth go dry. The gaze broke, and Cody looked down at the floor, trying his best to hide the expression in his eyes. He glanced at the table, cringing when he saw the paddle, and then shook his head vigorously from side to side. There was no way on earth that he was going to take his boxers down for this guy! There was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no way</i>! How did he know what the dude wanted anyway. A spanking was bad enough, but what if... </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Now," the man said. His voice was cold as ice, and Cody glanced over at him again. His hands were beginning to shake with the unfamiliarity of it all, and he hesitated as his fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"If you don't do it, I'll do it for you, young man, and I don't think you'll like where that takes us. Get the underpants down to your knees or you can take them off and serve corner time afterward naked from the waist down. Now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody took a deep breath. Tears were stinging his eyes and he blinked them back, surprised by their presence. Holding his breath, he pushed his boxers down to his knees with his jeans and then, stiffly, he bent over the chair. His head was reeling, and he tried to focus on what was going on around him rather than the internal thoughts that were trying to break through and break him down. He shifted, trying to keep the guy from seeing what was happening to him beneath his belly. His back was stiff and tense, and the muscles of his butt were tense and tight as he clenched them together as though it would buffer the pain of what was going to happen next.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The dude wasn't talking now, and Cody could only sense the movement around him. The "clack" as the wooden paddle was lifted from the wooden table, then the feeling of the man's hand on his back. He tensed, his skin crawling as he struggled to keep himself in place and not bolt from the touch of the guy. He leaned forward, as though to keep his butt out of the way. "Stick your bottom out," the guy was saying now. "Way out. That's the way," he added, his tone almost encouraging. Cody wasn't even aware that his body had obeyed the man against his own will.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Then, before Cody could really get himself fully braced, it had started. The little paddle with all the holes that the teenager had hardly noticed before smacked against his backside with a sound that reminded him of a single firecracker going off. There was a pause, just long enough to allow Cody to process the heat and the burning sensation as it crept through him, and then the other side of his backside came alight with pain. He gasped, his breath sucking in deeply and his backside tensing. The paddle patted against his butt, and then he felt another hard swat to the right side. It almost reached his hip, and Cody let out a howl in spite of himself. His head came back, and his cry of agony echoed off the walls of the kitchen. He no longer cared whether or not someone else heard what was going on, but the pain needed to stop, to go away, and to go away <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right now</i>! "Stop!" he cried, his voice breaking on the pain. "You can't! Stop! You're hurting me!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">There was no answer from behind, but instead the paddle continued to fall. The fire was fierce, and Cody felt as though his arms were going to buckle. He stomped his feet hard against the floor, thinking that somehow doing so would somehow alleviate the pain. His butt was dipping lower and lower, his knees beginning to buckle to the point where he thought he might as well kneel on the floor. He could no longer hold himself up, and great sobs were ripping from his belly. He'd never felt anything like the heat in his bottom now, and he was convinced that whatever he had one, this man <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated</i> him!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">A sharp swat of the paddle to each of Cody's thighs had his attention refocused. He let out a howl of pain and raised up onto his toes, his knees straight again. "You keep that rear end stuck out where it belongs or I will be forced to put you over my lap like a little child and make sure that your thighs are just as red right down to the knees!" the man said, his voice sharp.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Cody was already breathing hard, almost panting, his head hanging so low that it finally bumped against the back of the chair. He let out a cry of surprise at the man's words, and though his knees and elbows threatened to buckle, he pushed himself back up again, determined to do his best to see it through. He cried out again, shifting his hips to try to avoid the blows, but the man was unpredictable, and just when Cody least expected it, another crack would land against his butt or the backs of his legs. Any stirrings were gone now, and he felt ragged, used up, as though he could do no more, eventually he couldn't even find the breath to speak, and he stopped pleading with the man to stop it all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Hold <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i>," the man snapped, the paddle cracking against Cody's leg again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">The teenager buckled, his knees giving way and his whole body coming to a little pile on the floor. He drew his hands up and covered his face with them, sobbing into them. He could feel the puffiness in his eyes, the heat in his cheeks. He didn't care what he looked like now, though. All he cared was getting rid of the intense burning pain in his rear end. He let out a cry of protest as a firm hand grabbed his arm and dragged him back up, physically putting his hands back on the seat of the chair. "We aren't done yet, Mr. York," the man was saying.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Snot was running down Cody's face, and he could taste salty tears. "No..." he groaned, his head coming up, his puffy eyes coming open just for long enough to catch a glimpse of the young red haired woman leaning against the door frame into the kitchen. He felt the heat rage back through him, through his face, his ears, and through his groin. Cody moaned softly and shook his head from side to side. "I'm sorry!" he cried. "I'm sorry! I'll... I'll pick it up, I'm sorry!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"Better," the man said, even as Cody's head dropped, his forehead now nearly touching the seat of the chair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Only two more cracks of the paddle, but Cody felt as though they were setting him on fire, burning through him. He was sure that he could feel the burning pain deep in the muscle of his butt, and he swore to himself that he would never do anything to deserve another one of these again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">He felt the hand on his back disappear, but Cody kept his position, holding himself up stiffly on shaking knees. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">"You may go to the corner," he heard the soft, feminine voice say. "You and I will have a talk about obedience later on," she went on, even as Cody hobbled into the corner of the kitchen that the kid had occupied just last week. He didn't even make to pull his boxers and jeans back up; he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have the fabric brush against his raw backside. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">How long had she been standing there? Cody wondered. How much had she seen? Had she seen what was going on below his waist? Ashamed, he lowered his head and leaned against the wall, letting the thoughts evaporate as he dissolved into deep sobs, his entire body wrenching with the effort it took him to breathe. It seemed like forever that he heard the din of their voices in the background, and then he felt a soft, small hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead and get dressed. You can go to your room to get cleaned up and to calm down," Ms. Becky was saying. "Mr. Peter wants to talk to you later on. Without the paddle, I promise," she said. The same hand gently patted his shoulder, and then Cody had the sense that he was very deeply alone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt;">Talking to Peter (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> was his name!) wasn't high on Cody's list of priorities, but he was relieved to pull his shorts up over his bottom (though it was a painful experience!) and then to follow them up with his jeans. He moved slowly and stiffly as he went to pick up his laptop from the desk and head upstairs to his room, where he would stay until the Peter guy wanted him. There was no way he was going to go looking for the man who had just spanked him as though he was just a little kid....</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-79938099305854128312010-07-30T17:35:00.000-07:002010-07-30T17:36:43.654-07:00Foster Forest (10): Watching<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"And I don't want to hear a single sound out of either of you!" Becky said. She deposited <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> in opposite corner of the kitchen, letting go of his ear and giving it a quick but gentle rub where the flesh had reddened as a result of her hold. She let her hand fall on his back as though patting him. Briefly Becky was able to note that Jackie had lost perhaps five pounds. There was still quite a ways to go, but she felt relief at knowing that her rules were doing their job. She glanced over at Lizzie and pointed her finger at the little girl. "You and I are going to have a very serious talk in just a few minutes," she scolded. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then, with a heavy sigh, Becky fell down into the chair at the kitchen table, putting her head into her palms and rubbing at her temples. Her head was pounding, and her blood pressure was high. Her hands were trembling slightly, and she lowered them, placing them palm down on the table and taking several deep breaths. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">These two had such an ability to make her angry! For the first time in her life, Becky was beginning to understand why her father had snapped at her the way that he had, or why her mother had sent her to her room to wait for her father instead of dealing with discipline herself. There was no way that Becky was going to force the two children in their separate corners to wait for Peter, especially when she knew that Peter had that awful little paddle. There might be a time that behavior warranted the paddle, but she sincerely hoped that it wasn't today.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Peter would arrive in fifteen minutes, right around the time that the newest member of Foster <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place> showed up to be settled in. Her anger level as well as her sympathy told her she should deal first with Jackson and Elizabeth, but she didn't want to be caught in the middle of that when Cody showed up, the way it had been when Peter arrived. It was bad enough that Lizzie resented Peter's seeing her draped across Becky's thigh, or worse, that he had scolded her for rubbing her bottom. She didn't need that kind of resentment flying between two more of her youngsters. Lizzie seemed to resent everybody, in some way or another. It was something that Becky just wouldn't understand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">***<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky's head was still throbbing when she heard the bell ring at the desk. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and groaned. She hated it when people showed up early, but at least that might expedite the process so that she could get to Jackie and Lizzie sooner. Wearily, she pushed up from her seat at the table and turned for a moment to regard the two miscreants. "Alright, you two. You are to stay in those corners until I come back to get you. If I hear a sound out of this room, I will have Mr. Peter deal with the two of you when he gets here in... Ten minutes," she said, glancing again at the clock. "Do you understand me?"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When two sets of heads had nodded, Becky turned and swiftly left the kitchen, her shoulders back and her jaw set in a grim line of determination. She would get through this, get rid of the social worker, and see to settling in the new one, a boy named Cody York.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Finally!" the silver-haired social worker snapped. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky had only just rounded the corner into the Great Room, and she stopped in her tracks. "Hello Mrs. Barker," she said, nodding her head toward the social worker. Her conversations over the phone with this woman had been far from pleasant, and she was hardly looking forward to continued dealings with her. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Ms. Thomas, I'm sure you are aware that you have kept us waiting," the social worker said, tapping her foot impatiently.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Yes," Becky said, her voice firm and without any grace for the bad tempered woman. "And I'm sure that you are aware that you are ten minutes early. Now I'm sure that you have Cody's file available for me and that you've informed him of what it means for him to be here." Becky held her hand out for the file, her feet parted and her shoulders set. She was sure that her cheeks were red; she could feel the heat in them as she stared at the older woman.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The silver-haired social worker sniffed and slapped her briefcase onto the desk, opening it with a click and then shuffling through papers. After a moment, she handed Becky a thin file. Becky raised her eyebrows and glanced down at it, flipping it open and glancing at the sparse paperwork and information. She sighed and shook her head, knowing that this could be a bad situation, as it had been with Lizzie. Too little information seemed to lead to over-disciplining and, for Becky at least, a lack of empathy for the child. They'd gotten over it, eventually, but it would be a rough few weeks with Cody, Becky decided.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Without a word she unlocked the filing cabinet in the Great Room and filed the folder. The lock had been installed after she caught Lizzie going through her mail. She would never allow that situation to happen again, and she had already determined that if she caught the ten year-old messing with the mail again, Peter's paddle was going to look like a light punishment. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When Becky straightened, the social worker was still standing at the desk. Becky raised both of her eyebrows and blinked slowly. "Yes?" she said, gesturing to make it clear that she was ready to move on with her day. "I have things that need to be done, including settling Cody in. I don't have time to stand here and chat with you. I'm sure that we've done all the necessary paperwork by fax. If it's just the same to you, I'd appreciate it if you'd go on with your day so that I can go on with mine."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Seemingly flabbergasted, the silver-haired social worker opened her mouth as though to speak but then closed it again and marched for the door, her high heels clicking against the hard wood of the floor. Becky winced as Peter came through the front door, gave the older woman a scathing look, and then stepped up beside Cody. She watched as the blonde-haired man appraised the teenager, nodded, and then turned toward her. "Bet you're glad she's gone," he said with that grin that made Becky weak in the knees.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With another glance at Cody, Becky nodded her head. Her hand was pressed to her chest before she realized that she'd done it, and she felt herself flush with shame as she forced her hand back down to her side. Peter hadn't spoken to her in what seemed like forever, and that smile spoke volumes. "We're working together tonight," Becky told Peter. "So I can get Cody settled in. Elizabeth and Jackson are in the kitchen. There was... an issue," she said, choosing her words carefully so that Cody wouldn't be privy to what was going on in the kitchen.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She glanced up just in time to see Peter's face fall. He glanced over at Cody again and extended his hand. Becky watched as they shook, and then realized with a start that Cody hadn't said a word since he'd come in the door. She felt her cheeks heat up, feeling as though she should have encouraged him to be more involved, but then waved a hand dismissively, wiping away her own feelings. "Cody, this is Peter Grisson: Mr. Peter. Peter, this is Cody York. You knew he was coming."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Yes," Peter said, smiling at the fourteen year-old. "I did. I think I could show him to his room if you want to get things taken care of with dinner." Becky could hear from the tone in his voice that he knew she wasn't dealing with supper in the kitchen, and she nodded gratefully, watching as the blonde haired man put his hand on the boy's shoulder and directed him out of the Great Room and toward the stairs. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky sighed softly and shook her head. Looking after where Cody had gone with Peter, she wished she had a moment to look through his file. She couldn't remember it saying anything about him not being a talker, but he certainly did seem to be quite quiet. She supposed that she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. He was probably just scared, and he'd have plenty of time to open up over supper later that night. Thankfully she had a casserole in the fridge, ready to be heated in the oven in an hour. That gave her plenty of time to deal with Elizabeth and Jackson.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"She said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don't move!</i>" Becky froze halfway to the kitchen when she heard Lizzie's voice coming from that direction.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">said</i> 'Be quiet!'" came Jackie's retort. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky rolled her eyes and entered the kitchen with a purposeful stride, approaching Lizzie and Jackie before they could scurry back into their corners. She caught each of them by an ear and sat down heavily in her seat. Already her hairbrush sat on the kitchen counter, and she held them both by their ears at arm's length. "Well!" she said, looking from <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city> to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "I would have though that under the circumstances the two of you would at least have considered obeying me for a change! I would like it if one of you could give me just one reason not to send for Peter and his paddle!"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"He's taking the new guy to his room," Lizzie said, her tone full of sass. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky gaped at the ten year-old for a moment, shocked at the tone in her voice. As quickly as Lizzie sobered, Becky gave a firm swat to the seat of her skirt. "You do not speak to me that way, young lady!" she exclaimed.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Of course Lizzie had a good point. Peter was too busy to go and fetch his paddle, which meant that her hairbrush was going to have to be sufficient to get the job done. Becky gritted her teeth and gripped her knee tightly with her right hand, resisting the temptation to give Lizzie another firm smack.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Lizzie let out a short cry of surprised pain. "You asked!" she said, trying to bend to rub her thigh where it had been smacked. But Becky had hold of her ear, and Lizzie couldn't reach. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Finally, after a moment Becky released the two children and looked between them again. "Alright," she said, thinking she might finally be calm enough to handle proceeding with the punishment. "There are much better, much more pleasant things that I could be doing rather than having the two of you here in the kitchen with me right now. So I want to know from each of you, before I send you to your rooms for your spankings, why you were fighting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this time</i>?"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city> was sniffling, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> looked indignant. "He started it!" she cried, pointing at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So Becky turned her attention toward Jackie. "Well?" she asked. "Did you?" She had learned over the past few weeks that Jackson Seeber was not the brightest child in the world, and he was inclined toward honesty, since he rarely expected the spanking that most children were trying to avoid by lying. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">True to form, Jackie told the truth. His little blonde head nodded up and down slightly and he sniffled, both of his hands already covering his round little bottom. "She was makin' fun of me caus'a my last spankin'," he said, a little sob escaping from between his lips.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky sighed, and she felt a slight tightness in her chest. Without even stopping to think about what she was doing, she wrapped her arm around Jackie and pulled him to her in a tight hug. The truth of the matter was that she could understand how he felt, and in some way she thought he might just be justified in his reaction toward Lizzie. After all, she'd been snooping just around the corner and watching him get his last spanking as Becky roasted his bottom over the couch cushion. Justice had caught up with <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> in the end, of course, but Jackie hadn't been there to see it, and nobody had spoken of the ten year-old's punishment afteward.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"And you got punished that first day you were here when you said anything at all about Lizzie's spanking, didn't you?" Becky asked, raising both of her eyebrows as she gazed at Jackie, contemplating. When he nodded, she gave him a tight squeeze and then turned toward Lizzie.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Well, Jackie, I don't suppose you know that Lizzie got a very red and sore rump after that occasion as well," she said crisply, watching as Lizzie's face became a bright red from embarrassment. "Now," Becky said, "since the two of you are so intent on seeing one another getting spanked, I think you should each get to see what it's like for the other," she said. "If you want to see it, see it you shall," she added. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, you may step back to your corner, but you should face out into the room. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, I want you to go over there and get me the hairbrush that is sitting on the counter. I have other things to do, including fixing supper, so I'd like to get this done before any more time races away."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky looked at Lizzie and pointed toward where she wanted the little girl to go. Elizabeth's jaw was down, her brown eyes wide with surprise as she slowly backed up into the corner again, pressing herself back against it as though she could guard her own bottom from the coming spanking by doing so. "You seem to like watching so much, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>!" Becky snapped. "Now here's your chance!" </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She pointed toward the hairbrush on the counter, tapping her foot as she waited for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> to bring it to her so that the punishment could begin. She would do it right here, in the kitchen, instead of giving them the privacy of their bedrooms. Chances were that Cody would have been able to hear <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place>'s punishment anyway, and it wasn't fair to him that his punishment should be so public when Lizzie's was not.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> brought Becky the hairbrush, she stood up and waved the brush toward him. "You know the drill. I want your jeans and your underpants down to your knees. I'll let you do it this time." She patted the hairbrush against her palm, testing its weight and its sting while she waited for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> to do as he had been bid. It was the first time, for him, that she had made the demand of him, and he seemed to take his time unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and pushing them down to his knees. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> appeared to hesitate with his fingers in the waistband of his briefs, and Becky raised her eyebrows quite deliberately. "Underpants too," she said. "Get your knickers down and we can get this over with," she added quickly. She hardly noticed when the little boy flushed hotly, as she was already leaning forward to deliver a swat to his thighs. The quick sting made the little boy jump, and Becky shook her head. "Underpants down with your jeans, then I want you to put your hands on the seat of the chair and put your bottom straight out so that I can get it nice and red for you," she added.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky breathed deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth as she waited for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> to comply. Why was it that no matter how calm she got between misbehavior and punishment, she was always angry again when it came time to apply punishment to the miscreant's bottom? Still breathing deeply, she took up the hairbrush in her right hand, her left hand wrapping around her thigh and giving it a tight squeeze as she struggled for her calm place and to keep herself together.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Finally, she was ready. Becky tapped the hairbrush against <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s round bottom. He was still much too fleshy, but she thought that another twenty pounds should have him at an appropriate weight, and there would be a lot less of him to spank. She put her hand on his back with a gentle pressure meant to keep him firmly in place so that he wouldn't try to escape from his punishment as he had the last time. It took a lot of trust to put a child in this position and expect them to hold it, but she hoped that by showing him she had faith in him, he might try harder than he had in the past.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky gently rapped the hairbrush against <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city>'s bottom, then turned her head over her shoulder to look at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "I hope that you're watching this, Elizabeth Moore, because you're going to be next and your bottom is going to be just as red as <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s is when I'm done with it. You stay right there, young lady!" she snapped.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Finally there was no more time to be wasted. Becky herself had spoken out that she had better, more enjoyable things to do. She raised the hairbrush and brought it down hard on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s right cheek. Then, moving quickly, she repeated this on the left cheek. Bright red marks appeared immediately, and then faded quickly. The boy howled, twisting his thick hips in an attempt to alleviate the pain. "Don't you move, Jackson Seeber," Becky said sharply. "If you get out of position I'll move you into a different one and we'll start all over. On your thighs. So you just stay right where you are until I'm finished. Understand me?" she asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In order to punctuate, Becky delivered a sharp, hard smack with the hairbrush to the back of each one of Jackie's thighs. The little boy wailed, and Becky felt a little pitch in her tummy, the feeling she used to get when her mother had told her to go to her room to wait for her father, but when she thought that maybe she could still get away without a spanking. She felt for <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city>, and she felt for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, watching the spanking and knowing that she was next. But both of the children knew better than to fight with one another, and she was going to make sure that the lesson was well learned.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once again the spanking moved back up to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s chubby rear-end. Becky kept the spanks hard and snappy, moving quickly and speaking to Elizabeth rather than to Jackson, knowing that the little girl was much more likely to be able to listen to her than the seven year-old little boy who as currently having his bottom warmed up. "Elizabeth Moore, I hope that you are paying close attention to what is going on right here. You wanted to see <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> get a spanking, and now you're getting that opportunity. I really hope that you're happy with the results of this fight you've had with him, because you're next, and he will be watching your spanking as well!"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then she stopped speaking, and finished up the spanking with an earnest, very hard set of twelve swats to each cheek. The hairbrush smacked down with a sound almost like a gunshot, the red marks quickly turning white and then deepening into a purple color that would last probably for a couple of days. To Becky the spanking seemed to have lasted a little bit over two minutes (which, if she'd looked at the clock she would realize was pretty much accurate) but she knew that to Jackie it must have seemed as though the spanking had gone on for forever. She set the hairbrush down on the table and then took a step back. "You may stand up and go back to your corner, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>," she told him. "You may pull up your underpants but leave your jeans down. You will be watching <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s spanking while I warm up her naughty little bottom for her as well. Go," she said, gesturing toward the corner as the little boy struggled to move into it with his jeans around his ankles. It was only once he was there that he tugged up his briefs and then turned around to face the room. His face was streaked with tears, but his eyes held a look of expectation and excitement. Becky sighed softly and looked toward <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "Your turn," she said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Becky took a deep breath. Lizzie wasn't moving, and the woman walked over to her, taking hold of her hand gently and leading her over to the chair. "You saw what <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had to do. Pull your panties down to your knees and put your hands on the seat of the chair," she said sharply, using the brush to give Lizzie a swift swat to her backside. The little girl cried out, and Becky pointed toward the seat of the chair with one long finger. "Now," she added, when the child seemed to hesitate.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"But... He can... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see</i> me!" she said, her voice distraught. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Yes," Becky said, keeping her tone very matter-of-fact. "You're right, he can see you. Just like you could see him. Panties down, bend over. If you don't do as you're told, I can give you the same spanking that he got, but all of it on your thighs." </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The little girl gasped, and Becky could sense that she was about to say something. Without another word, the young woman cracked the hairbrush down on Lizzie's right thigh. The little girl kicked her foot up and quickly moved her hands to push her panties down to her knees. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Better," Becky said. "Now bend over, put your hands on the seat of the chair, and stick that butt way out so I can get to it. If you didn't want this spanking, you wouldn't have done anything to deserve it. When you started screaming at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, and when you came out of the corner while I was meeting with Cody and his social worker, you chose this. So I don't want to hear any excuses out of you! Hands on the seat of the chair!" The last few words were punctuated by hard spanks of the hairbrush to Lizzie's bottom, now covered only by her skirt.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The little girl cried out, but quickly fell onto her hands on the seat. Becky watched as the small fingers curled around the edge and grabbed a tight hold. She knew what that was like, and she realized that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was very prepared for the spanking she was about to get. Becky glanced over at Jackson, who had tears and snot rolling down his face, and she sighed. "You," she said to him. "You should watch this very closely. You wanted to see, well this is your chance, young man. Maybe next time you'll think twice before aggravating <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>!" she snapped.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With that, Becky tucked the skirt up Lizzie's back, tucking it into the waistband so that it would stay put, and then she rapped the hairbrush against Lizzie's bottom. "You have earned every spanking you've gotten here, Elizabeth Moore, including the one you got for sneaking up and watching Jackson's spanking so sneakily. I suggest you treat him -- and me -- with a bit of respect if you don't want to wind up in this position again."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Then the spanking began. As promised, Becky gave Lizzie the same spanking that she'd given to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>. She spanked one side, then the other, with crisp, hard spanks. She spanked quickly, all the while speaking to Jackie. "Is this what you wanted to see, young man? You wanted to see Lizzie getting her bottom reddened? You know this hurts her just as much as it hurts you, don't you? You two get in trouble together, from now on you'll be spanked together, and you can watch or listen as the case may be!"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Lizzie was howling, and Becky pressed down firmly on her back to hold her in place. "Same rules apply, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. You move, and I'll put you in another position and we'll deal only with your thighs. Understand me?" She gave a gentle downward shove on the girl's back and continued the spanking. Lizzie's bottom was going from a hot pink to a light red, and Becky decided it was time to finish up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The last two dozen spanks were delivered in a rapid-fire fury, leaving little bruises on Lizzie's bottom that would be painful when she sat down for the next couple of days. Just as she was finishing up, Peter strolled into the kitchen. He flushed a though he hadn't known what was going on, but he pulled out a chair and sat down. Cody was behind him, and the teenager's blue eyes went wide with surprise. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, glancing from Elizabeth and Becky over to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"I'm giving a much deserved spanking," Becky said, finishing the spanking up with two especially hard spanks to each cheek. She stopped, put the hairbrush down and stepped back. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, you may pull your panties up. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, turn around and face the wall. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, back to your corner," Becky said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once the girl had gone, Becky drooped, exhausted, into her seat. "Well," she said, as though it was the word of the day. "Peter, I don't suppose you'd mind putting the casserole in the oven. I need a rest, and I think I have a couple of kids who could do with some loving. Do you mind?" </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Peter shook his head and went to the refrigerator, stopping on the way to give <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulder a squeeze. Becky turned and gestured toward the little boy, saying his name and calling him toward her. She gently wrapped him up against the side of her body and then called for Elizabeth, with whom she did the same. The anger was gone, and in its place was left the sense of guilt that often followed a spanking, whether she was giving or receiving. She held both children tightly for a moment, then gave each of them a kiss to their foreheads. "Supper will be ready in about half an hour," she told each of them. "Why don't you go upstairs and change your clothes and wash up. Then you can come down and meet Cody."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She watched as the two younger children scampered off, and then she looked toward Cody and smiled. "I'm sorry that you had to see that," she said softly, nodding her head. "They've been fighting all week and this was the only way for me to solve that problem. I hope I haven't scared you off."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"N-no Ma'am," the teenager said, though Becky thought she detected a hint of nervousness in both his face and his voice.</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-80301621060359746902010-07-28T20:30:00.001-07:002010-07-28T20:35:09.500-07:00Foster Forest (9): Understandings<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackie Seeber sat on the couch, his legs crossed Indian-style under him. His elbows rested on his knees, which meant that he had to lean forward a little bit. He felt uncomfortable, the fleshy belly pressed between his chest and his legs. He didn't move, nor did he take his eyes off the floor. Nothing made sense any more, and the tears poured down <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place>'s cheeks in rivulets while he waited for Ms. Becky to show up and yell at him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">This was all so confusing. The television was off, and if he tried to turn it on, all he would get was a blue screen with some writing on it. Since <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> didn't read yet, he didn't know what he had to do to make the television work, and he was afraid to ask Ms. Becky. It seemed like lately she yelled every time she saw him. "Tuck your shirt in! No, you may not have dessert! Where are you going? Outside! Play!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> spent a lot of his time crying. He was bored. There was nothing for him to do, and the entire place was so utterly unfamiliar to him. Why couldn't he watch TV? What was wrong with eating dessert? So what if his shirt was untucked? What was it about Jackson Seeber that offended everybody so? He just didn't understand.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"><a name='more'></a></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In as long as he had been at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place> (at that point about two weeks), he had only been told to go and wait twice. The first time he'd felt blindsided by the spanking that Becky had given him. His parents, in all the years he'd lived with them, had given him three or four spankings, none of which had hurt nearly as much as the redhaired woman smacking his bottom with that heavy wooden hairbrush. Never in his life had he felt anything so horrible, and the memory left him frightened as he sat tucked up in the corner of the couch. There was no doubt in his seven year-old mind that he was about to get his bottom spanked again, but he didn't <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">understand</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson was so confused and so lonely that when he heard the sound of someone entering the room, he shot off the couch so that he could rush to Becky and throw his arms around her. His heart was beating too quickly and his limbs felt weak. There was a pressure in his chest that he couldn't explain, and then the sinking feeling when he realized that it wasn't Becky, but Lizzie who had entered the Great Room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">As usual, the ten year-old had a book tucked up under her arm, but it didn't look as though she was just passing through. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had learned that Lizzie usually seemed to prefer to read in the small private library in the home, but now she seemed to be settling into one of the chairs near the cold fireplace. Jackie crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Lizzie, but she made no move to go away. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of anything witty to say, so instead he went back to curl up in the corner of the couch again to wait for Ms. Becky. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Just when Jackie was beginning to think that she was never going to show up, Lizzie spoke. "You're going to get a spanking," she said without looking up from her book.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> didn't bother to wipe at his tears. Nobody had ever been there to teach him that little boys don't cry as freely as little girls, or that it was a shame to him that he should allow his companion to see that he was crying. Instead he pulled his knees up to his chest. His foot slipped off the edge of the couch, and he couldn't wrap his arms around his knees because of the excess weight he was carrying. In frustration, the seven year-old kicked his foot against the base of the sofa. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was none of her business whether or not he was going to get a spanking! <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> couldn't help but stare at the little brown-haired girl who was seemingly absorbed in her Harry Potter book. For only a flash Jackie wished that he had already learned to read, so that he could pick up a book and read with her. Or even better, that Lizzie liked him well enough to read to him, out loud. The one time he asked Ms. Becky she'd told him that she was busy and said to ask later on. He never had. In truth, Jackie was sure that he was in the way of everything, messing everything up and making the other residents unhappy. Just in the last few days he had stopped trying. There was no point in trying to please somebody who didn't want to be pleased.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"She has the hairbrush," Lizzie said without looking up from her book. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> felt the heat rush to his face and his eyes stung with fresh tears. His cheeks were already moist and now, for his own comfort, he rubbed his fingers under his eyes to make the wet marks go away. "But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i>?" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> asked, feeling confused and frustrated. He didn't know what he'd done wrong, even if he did accept that the spanking was inevitable. Grown ups only got that look in their eyes when they were upset, even angry. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> was quite certain that Becky was very angry, but he didn't understand why.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was obvious that Lizzie wasn't answering, or that she wasn't going to answer until she was good and ready. Hurt, the little boy turned his head downward and stared at the carpeting in front of his feet. He kicked his legs and banged them against the couch again, hard enough to make his heels hurt. None of this made sense to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>! What had he done <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrong</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Maybe it's just because you're a fat pig crybaby..." Lizzie said from her seat. When Jackie looked up he could see that the little girl was staring at him now, and intent expression on her face. "Maybe it's because you don't do the really simple stuff that they tell you to do, and then you think that you're just going to get away with it. Or maybe it's because you never stop <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crying</i>!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> didn't know what he heard in the little girl's voice, but her words hit him like a punch in the (ample) gut. He blinked at her stupidly several times, his head shaking back and forth seemingly of its own accord. "Aunt Ninny let me... She never yelled at me," Jackie sniffled. "I wanna go home."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Yeah?" Lizzie snapped. "Well there's nobody at home who wants you there, so you've got to suck it up here like the rest of us. Think I want to be here? Guess again," she said. The little girl snapped her book shut and stalked off out of the room just as Becky appeared from the hallway where her office was. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky's cheeks were slightly flushed, but her eyes were bright. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was about to relax when he caught sight of the hairbrush in the young red-haired woman's hand. His stomach rolled and he clenched his fat little hands into fists in his lap. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, and then the chill on his face as they spilled over and tumbled down his cheeks. The fists stayed where they were, and he didn't make a move toward the woman, nor away from her. A dull ache in his heart made him realize that he hoped she'd come to him, pick him up in her lap and explain everything that was going on, where his parents were, when they were coming back, or maybe tell him when he could go back to his aunt's house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> opened his mouth, but before a sound could come out, Becky grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the seat. Her grip was slightly too tight, and Jackie let out a short howl of pain as he jerked his arm out of her hand and began to rub it furiously with his other hand. "I hate you!" he exclaimed, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. All of the questions he wanted to ask, everything he wanted to know was lost in that immediate feeling of intense, hot hatred. He didn't know how to ask what was going on, what was wrong, why he was going to be spanked. And suddenly he didn't care why. There didn't seem to be any rhyme nor reason to it anyway; they just spanked when they felt that they should, and it didn't matter if he'd done anything to deserve it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"That's fine," the young red-haired woman said as she dropped down onto the couch, right in the middle. She reached for his hand, but <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> yanked it away from her again. He could feel the tears burning in his eyes and he glared at her, meeting her green eyed gaze and trying hard to match her intensity. After only a moment, however, he could no longer hold the gaze and he dropped his eyes as Becky continued to speak. "You can hate me all you want, Jackson Seeber, but you have to follow my rules, young man. Whatever your aunt let you do when you lived with her, you're living here now, and I, for one, am concerned about your health. You're overweight and you eat junk every time you can get your hands on it. I've done my best to keep you out of the kitchen, but to catch you in there today... I'm only glad that Lizzie let me know you had your head stuck in the refrigerator! Obviously I need to watch you every moment!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackie's bladder felt weak, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Why was she yelling at him again? All he wanted was to go home where things were familiar and where he understood the rules. She'd explained them to him twice now, but it wasn't his fault that he continually forgot what she said! He'd spent months getting used to one set of rules, only to go home to his parents and have no rules at all. Then he wound up here, and Ms. Becky was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strict</i>!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You don't gotta!" he cried, rubbing his arm harder. "I wan'ned somethin' to eat! I was hungry!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> said. He bit down on his lower lip as the tears ran into his mouth. His nose had begun to run, and he wiped it quickly on the back of his hand, then swiped the snot on his pants. He was shaking slightly when he met her gaze again and then quickly glanced away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Before Jackie could say another word, Becky's hands were on the button of his jeans, sliding it out of its hole and then lowering the zipper. She was talking and talking, but he couldn't understand or hear a word she said. He was so nervous about what was happening, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much the previous spanking had hurt. His eyes fell on the hairbrush, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> let out a long wail of fear. "But I'll be good!" he said, choking on the snot that had gotten caught in his throat. "I'm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tryin'</i>!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well," Becky said, pausing with her fingers in the waistband of his briefs. "How hard is it to wait for meals instead of simply going into the refrigerator whenever you want?" she asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> stomped his foot, hard, against the floor. He'd been sitting on the edge of a tantrum for nearly an hour now, before he ate, and then after Becky sent him into the Great Room to wait for her. He didn't understand why they couldn't do this somewhere else, if they had to do it at all, and more than that he didn't understand what was so wrong about going to get food when he was hungry. "I'm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hungry</i>!" he said, by way of an explanation. What was so hard to understand?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You're hungry," Becky said. He recognized the tone in her voice, the dangerous tone that was almost poking fun at him. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> felt his cheeks become hot, and he tried to take a step back but the young woman gave a tug at his briefs, pulling him back and then lowering them to his knees along with his jeans. She was so businesslike about the whole thing that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had a sinking feeling in his stomach that she didn't care at all how much this spanking was going to hurt, or how much he didn't understand. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You are fed six times a day," Becky said sharply. She slapped at the back of his right thigh hard enough to make him cry out in pain. He looked at her, feeling his eyes welling up with fresh tears. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Of course Becky was right. There were the three big meals every day, and she also gave him and Lizzie snacks between meals. It amounted to six times every day. But he wasn't allowed second helpings, and whenever he asked for food between meals he was told "no" unless it was right at snack time. The food was so controlled, and he felt as though he wasn't allowed to do anything without asking somebody else first. It was so different from at his aunt's!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"One last time," Becky said, putting her hands on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulders. He turned automatically toward her and met her eyes. His knees felt weak and he worried that he was going to have an accident right there on the Great Room carpet!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"One last time," she repeated. "You aren't to just go to the fridge and eat whatever you want to, whenever you want to," she said. "I will make sure that you get enough to eat, but you need to lose weight. The doctor said that he was worried you would wind up with juvenile diabetes if we didn't do something quickly. I don't suppose you want to stick yourself with needles every day, do you?" she asked. Her voice was sharp and cold, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> felt a sob bubbling up in his chest as he shook his head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Good," Becky said. "Then maybe getting a spanking now will make sure that we don't have to stick you every day in the future. You are given plenty to eat, and eventually you won't be hungry all the time either," she added. "You'd feel better if you'd go outside and play and actually do something rather than sitting on the couch and staring forlornly at the television all the time. You can watch on the weekends, those are the rules, aren't they?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">But before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> could answer, she was moving him beside her. Confused, he pulled back a little bit. She wasn't pulling him over her lap the way that he'd expected. Instead she was tugging on his hand as though..." Lay down next to me, with your body on the seat of the couch. I can reach you just fine from there and I won't have to worry about you rolling off my lap." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackie had no idea what Becky was talking about, but he slowly complied, laying his upper body against the couch. He sank down slightly into the cushions, and his thick hands automatically went to clutch the back of the cushion beneath him, seeking something to hold onto and something to comfort him even before the spanking began. The lack of contact with the spanker (in this case, Ms. Becky) surprised <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> and he would realize later, when he was older, that it hurt his feelings as well. Though he would also understand, when he was older, that his weight and size had made it difficult for Becky to keep him on her lap in those early days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The position somehow made <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> feel as though he was even more exposed, his bottom stuck straight out and nothing blocking him from view if some hapless social worker were to walk into the building. Worse, what if Mr. Peter or Lizzie saw him like this? <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> felt his entire body grow warm at the thought, but a moment later it was only the heat in his posterior region that he could think about!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The spanking started without Becky saying a single word. Like the previous occasion, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was shocked by the intense stinging pain of the hairbrush as it landed for a second time, making a noise like a sharp crack across his backside. His head jerked back in pained surprise, and he let out a howl. The boy's right hand flew back as though to cover his backside, but in this position he found it difficult to reach. He couldn't kick his legs since they were balancing him on the seat, and instead he started to wiggle, trying to push his way off the couch so that he could cover his backside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The pressure on his back told <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> that Becky had him effectively pinned down, and he let out another long cry. His throat felt tight, and his body was beginning to tremble. He knew that she was speaking to him, but he couldn't make out the words that were being spoken at all. His head was wrapped up entirely in trying to cope with the pain, the flames that were being ignited in his backside. He squirmed, trying as hard as he could to wiggle out of her grasp. He'd done it once before, and maybe he could do it again! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">A quick, sharp sting to each of his thighs had <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> scrambling back up onto the couch, instinct kicking in. He buried his face in the cushion and sobbed. He was choking and coughing with the effort of crying, his fat little hands digging into the cushion as he soaked it with his tears. At some point it began to feel as though the spanking was never ending, and he could no longer feel the difference between one spank and the next. His entire world evaporated into pain and tears, his sobs ripping through him and making him shudder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He didn't even know that it had ended when he felt hands on his shoulders. He rolled over, allowing himself to be moved, and then slowly sank forward and off the couch until he was on his knees, both hands covering his buttocks and rubbing fiercely as he sobbed. He didn't care that Becky was leaning forward over him, or that she was brushing the hair back out of his face with great gentleness. His first instinct was to jerk away from her, and he did, scrambling out of her reach and continuing to rub. He was hampered by his jeans and briefs, and he stumbled a little bit before pushing himself up and onto his feet. He struggled with his underpants, pulling them up over his sore bottom and giving a little cry of pain. He didn't look up at Ms. Becky, but reached down and yanked up his jeans as well. Then, when he'd finished, he put his hands on his bottom, not sure where to go or what he was supposed to do, but he was fairly certain he wasn't allowed to just leave the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Jackie..." Becky said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Her voice was soft enough that Jackie didn't feel threatened by it, but he raised his eyes to look at her, searching her face for a moment. Then, before he could think about what he was doing, he flew into her arms. He bit back the confused frustration he felt when the young women carefully and gently guided him onto the couch next to her, but settled in quickly when she pulled him to her chest and began to stroke his hair again. He whimpered, but when she shushed him, Jackie raised a hand and brushed at the tears on his cheeks, pressing his face against her shoulder and wrapping his free arm (the one that wasn't pinned between them) around her, holding tightly to the young woman who was caring for him so kindly now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Jackie," Becky whispered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The seven year-old opened his eyes and looked up at the pretty red haired lady. She was still speaking, and he focused on her words, forcing himself out of his safe place to hear her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, I know that things were different with your aunt, but you aren't there now. I'm sorry that I had to spank you, but you need to stay out of the refrigerator or the doctor is worried that we're going to have to stick you with needles every day. I promise you that it gets better, but you need to learn how to eat better." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Jackson</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> didn't understand. What was wrong with eating any time he wanted to? But what he did understand now, much better than before, was that Becky was serious about what she'd said to him. More than that, he understood now that if he went into the fridge again without her permission, he was going to wind up being bent over with the hairbrush applied to his backside again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"'Kay," Jackie whispered. He closed his eyes and let his head roll back against Becky's breast while she rocked him. It felt good, and before he could stop it from happening, Jackie Seeber fell asleep against Becky's chest. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The last words he heard before he began to dream were "Elizabeth Moore, I know that you're there and I'll deal with you in a moment." Then he fell deeply asleep and would remain resting on the couch until Peter came to wake him up for supper.</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-56144598596242340242010-07-20T23:25:00.000-07:002010-07-20T23:25:33.458-07:00Foster Forest (8): Rump Roast Barbeque<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">June had rolled smoothly into July, though there seemed to be some resistance from at least one resident of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Lizzie wasn't looking forward to the coming school year, especially considering that nobody had told her what was going to become of her. She'd assumed that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> would be sent to the private school that had expelled her, and that she would probably head straight for the nearest public school. While she didn't hate the idea of going to a "normal" school with "normal" students, there was a great deal of apprehension for the little girl, who worried that the minute another group of students sniffed her out as a foster child, she was going to be in trouble again. At least in a public school there was a good chance there would be no recess, and without recess she could (mostly) avoid being bullied.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie had been avoiding everybody, and Peter had been avoiding Lizzie. Becky and Jackson had spent the last two weeks together a lot, and there was a building undercurrent of irritation coming from the ten year-old little girl, who felt as though she'd been pushed out. She couldn't understand the feelings that were raging within her, or the reasons why Ms. Becky spent so much time with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> now, and not with her. If it bothered her, she was trying not to show it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In the meantime, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was soaking up the attention, and he was more than a little bit smug about it. Although he didn't say anything to Lizzie, and in fact rarely spoke to her at all, he did puff out his chest a little bit whenever he was near her. It didn't bother him that she might have heard his first spanking, and it was obvious that regardless of whether or not he should be humiliated by the experience, he still viewed himself as being "better" than she was. He'd managed to fly beneath the radar so far, so that the adults hadn't noticed what he was doing, or the hurt expression that was visible so often in Lizzie's eyes. And if they did, they thought the source was something else entirely.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter tried to be present for Lizzie, but she had given him the cold shoulder since the night that they'd cooked dinner together. Although he was hurt himself, he tried not to show it, or the fact that he felt entirely useless. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was glued to Becky and Lizzie seemed to prefer to be by herself. Needless to say, Peter had plenty of time to paint, and he'd almost finished a large painting of the barn and pasture. Pastoral scenes were his favorite, and he was quite satisfied with the results. He even thought he might gift the painting to Becky, given how much she enjoyed his work. It was enough for him that she had one of his prints on display in the children's home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was finally the day that Peter had planned his barbeque. The children had been sent upstairs to take baths and clean up so that they were presentable, and he'd gathered all the food in the kitchen. He wasn't going to start cooking until everybody was present, and in spite of all of the tension in the house, Peter was whistling happily as he arranged things in the kitchen. "So," he said, turning to Becky once had had everything ready. He popped the top on a can of Coke and took a long swig. "What are you planning on doing about school. I think Lizzie's worried about it."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky sighed from where she was sitting at the table, wrapping ears of corn in foil so that they could be placed on the grill. "I don't know," she said, her voice soft. "I was thinking about hiring a private tutor to teach them. At least that would cut down on the bullying. With Jackie's weight and Lizzie's bookishness, it just seems like it might work out better. Then I don't have to worry about the pain of either of them getting in trouble at school again."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You don't sound confident."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'm not." Becky shrugged her shoulders and set down the last ear of corn. "It's one more person that I have to bring on. I don't mind hiring somebody -- and paying them to do the job, since it cuts out the need for separate tuition for each of the children -- but it just seems like it might be too much pressure on everybody. And the kids need to get out of the house a bit. Away from here."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter shrugged. "Well then that's what field trips are for," he was saying, just when a scream resounded from upstairs, followed by the distinct sound of flesh meeting flesh in what was surely a slap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What now?" Becky asked, rolling her eyes as she pushed up out of her chair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter sighed and went to follow her upstairs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You... You... You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">creep!</i>" Lizzie squealed, clutching her towel in front of her. Although she hadn't yet reached puberty, she was still sensitive about her body, and beginning to feel the onset of the changes that it would go through. She hadn't thought to lock the bathroom door, since Ms. Becky didn't like locked doors and since nobody had ever walked in on her when she was in the shower before. She'd taken her time, since Jackie always had a bath, and the water got hot again very quickly, giving her the opportunity for a long shower if she wanted it. The little boy, on the other hand, didn't particularly enjoy taking baths, and he was in and out as quickly as he could get clean enough to pass Becky's inspection.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In spite of the tears that filled the little boy's eyes, Lizzie struck out a second time, slapping him hard across the face. "Get out!" she screamed, just as Becky charged through the door. Everything after that happened quickly. Becky pulled <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> out of the bathroom by his arm, shutting the door behind her, and Lizzie could hear the sounds of the auburn-haired woman comforting the little boy outside the door. Peter's voice came through shouting to her, "Get dressed, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>, and meet me downstairs in the library."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Crap," Lizzie muttered. The tears that hadn't come immediately came now that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was gone from the room. The humiliation was intense, but worse than that there was a hint of fear. Even though the little boy was so young, she thought of the boys on the playground and the things that they had tried to do to her, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> shuddered visibly, though there was nobody there to see her do it. A sob caught in the girl's throat as she quickly toweled off and then grabbed her clothes, putting all of them on. She knew the rules -- the children weren't allowed to be violent toward one another in any way, and she'd slapped <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> not once, but twice. Certain that she was in trouble, Lizzie questioned why she was even bothering to put her panties on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">By the time she stepped through the door to the library, Lizzie was sobbing hard. The anticipation had knotted her stomach up so much that she felt she'd be sick, though she hadn't had very much to eat that day. Lunch had been light, in observance of the festivities that had been planned for that evening, and there simply wasn't anything in her stomach to bring up. It took all the courage the ten year-old had to slowly approach Peter and stand in front of him. She was trembling visibly, clearly scared of what his reaction was going to be. Wanting something to do with her hands, she shoved them deeply into her pockets. Her eyes darted to the side, noting that his paddle was sitting on the little end table. A little whimper fought it's way up her throat and out of her mouth to be heard, and she felt as though her bladder was quite weak.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie jerked when she felt a hand on hers. She pulled her hand back in shocked surprise. She wasn't ready! He hadn't spoken a word to her, he hadn't gotten her side of the story! She wasn't ready! He couldn't spank her unless he knew what had happened. It just wasn't fair! Lizzie whimpered again and shook her head vigorously back and forth. She was sure that Peter was speaking, but she hadn't heard a word he'd said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>." She heard his voice, heard her name. "Listen to me."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie took a deep breath, sucking it in and then nodding her head as his hand caught hers again. Her palms were wet with sweat and they were cold. His own hand felt comparatively warm and smooth. "Okay," she whispered. "Yes sir."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I want to know what happened up there. I know you slapped <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>. He told us when he came out of the bathroom and we both heard it all the way down here. But I want to know what happened before that. Why was he in the bathroom with you?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie shook her head from one side to the other. She could tell that Peter was calm and she wondered how he'd gotten that way. He seemed to act on temper so often. Maybe it was the time that it had taken her to get dressed, and to make sure that she wasn't going to throw up all over herself. She wasn't trying to frustrate Peter, or make him angrier, but the truth was that she was very scared, and her fear went far beyond the fear of the paddle that he'd brought with him. She didn't know the answer to Peter's question, and it was that lack of understanding that bothered her the most. "Uh-I don't know," she said, her voice breaking and rising slightly as she tried to choke back the sob that was bubbling up in her belly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The gentle tug on Lizzie's hand caught her off guard, and she gasped, thinking that Peter was about to simply tumble her over his lap and begin the process of spanking her until she was a mass of pain and tears. Her brown eyes looked up and met the sparkling blue of his own, and she was surprised to see what she thought was sympathy reflected in the glowing orbs. Following his gesture by suggestion, she awkwardly and nervously climbed into his lap and allowed herself to be pulled against his shoulder. She was constantly aware of where his hands were, watching them closely, but he simply rubbed her back and brushed the hair out of her face. It was the first time she could remember Peter really being kind to her, though it was a moment she desperately needed it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">For nearly three minutes Lizzie just sobbed against Peter's shoulder until she was finally calm. Everything she'd feared, and expected from him, had been just anxiety, paranoia. He didn't touch her painfully, he didn't force her. If she hadn't wanted to sit down with him, she could have pulled away. Now she was certain of that. And she did, sitting up in his lap and wiping at her face with the palms of her hands, scrubbing at her eyes and cheeks to get the last of the tears abolished. "I'm sorry I slapped <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>," she whispered, her voice very, very low. Everyone knew that Lizzie didn't like to apologize, and the fact that she said something without prompting indicated that she really did mean what she was saying. "We're not supposed to hit each other, so I know I'm going to get a spanking. Which is kind of like hitting," she pointed out, her voice sounding hopeful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter smiled softly and shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said, his voice soft and slightly sad. "We spank you -- and Jackson -- because your behavior needs to make a change. It's because we care enough about you to make sure that when you're doing something you shouldn't, that stops. It ends right here. I know you understand, Lizzie," he said, his voice gentle, his own blue eyes hopeful. "I know you understand because you're a smart girl. Come on. Let's stand you up so you can get your panties down and we can take care of getting this spanking out of the way."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Sniffling, Lizzie slipped out of Peter's lap. She didn't think she could possibly shed another tear, but as she realized what was about to happen, the tears did begin to flow again. Slowly, and with a great deal of regret, the ten year old reached up under her skirt and slowly lowered her panties. After a moment of pause she went ahead and slipped right out of them. She was wearing a knee-length skirt and if Peter was kind, he might not make her put them back on after all was said and done. She took a deep, shuddering breath and then looked at Peter. The other times they'd done this, he'd been rough. He'd jerked her over his lap or the arm of the chair so quickly that she hadn't had time to react, and he'd yanked her panties and jeans down for her. Thankfully most of her jeans were elastic in the waist and therefore there were no buttons to mess around with. That would have been awkward.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie couldn't imagine why she was thinking all of these thoughts, though her mind was racing to prevent her from having to think of her impending doom. Her skin crawled slightly when Peter put his left hand on her shoulder and his right hand on her lower back. He had moved forward in the arm chair so that although he was still sitting, he had plenty of room to fit her across his lap, and to secure her if it became necessary for him to do so. And with that paddle of his, it almost always became necessary to do so. "Come on, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," Peter said. "Let's get you over my lap so that we can get this over with and go out to the barbeque."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It took a moment for Lizzie to register that the special treat they'd planned was still going to happen, and she almost smiled before Peter began to put the pressure on her, and she stumbled slightly. She caught herself before she could simply tumble over Peter's lap, and he guided her gently into position, her hips high up over the middle of his lap, providing her bottom as a perfect target for his hand and the paddle. Lizzie caught her breath in her throat before she could let out an audible cry, and she let her fingers brush the carpet. There was no leverage, no rungs on the chair and she couldn't quite reach the floor. Her feet hung out behind her, kicking against the air. She felt insecure and suddenly more frightened than she could remember from the other spankings, when she hadn't had any time at all to consider the situation she was in before it started.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Now he was folding her skirt up over her back, and she felt the breeze from the air conditioner fan blow across her trembling buttocks and slim hips. Whimpering, the little girl tried to turn her head to see what Peter was doing next, but she didn't have time to crane her neck far enough. He had begun the spanking.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It was slow and deliberate this time, and just as silent as it always was with Peter. The paddle came down very hard on her left side, right where her bottom and thighs met. Lizzie let out a gasp of breath as the sting began to affect her. The deeper burn of such a paddle hadn't set in yet; it was that burn that would set Lizzie to really crying in both pain and very real remorse. For now there was just pain, and Lizzie's first reaction was to swing her hand back as though to cover her bottom. She stopped herself before she got all the way there, however, letting out a thin cry of sorrow. She knew she'd done wrong this time, and there was no way for her to convince herself she didn't deserve the spanking she was getting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The spanking continued in the same slow and deliberate manner. Peter would spank one side, the paddle coming down seemingly very hard, and right in that sensitive place where Lizzie's bottom and thighs met. It was one of the most sensitive spankable parts of Lizzie's body, and her legs were quickly thrashing out behind her, scissoring as she struggled to get away from the pain. It was all the resolve that she had to keep her hand back. She had already lost the battle not to cry, and now her hand finally got the better of her, flying back to try to cover her flaming and throbbing rear end. It was grabbed skillfully by Peter and pinned to her lower back, though he allowed her to continue to kick her legs, rather than stopping to restrain them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Still there were no words, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was becoming tired. She was sobbing hard, her bottom was a flaming mass of pain, and her body was shaking as she finally gave up the fight and just lay across Peter's lap, sobbing as though her heart would break. After nearly a minute, he let go of her right hand, which he had pinned to her back, and she lowered it, giving a little groan as the shoulder joint let her know it was stiff. Another moment later he was lightening up on his grip on her, and then his hand was on her shoulder and helping her to stand to her feet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The skirt fell down over Lizzie's bottom, and she winced. When Peter went to pick up her panties, she closed her eyes and gave a small shake of her head, but stepped into them when he held them out for her, and then she pulled them up again under her skirt. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then there was a long moment of awkwardness. Should she reach out to him? Was it okay to hug Peter? She'd just been sitting in his lap for a while, but she wasn't sure what to expect now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">When Peter stood up and draped his arm heavily over her shoulder, gently guiding her toward the door, Lizzie left it at that, at least satisfied with the physical contact that she got from him. She wasn't looking forward to seeing Becky, and could only hope that the two adults weren't going to "trade off kids."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In the meantime, a similar scene was playing out in the kitchen. Becky had whisked <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> off as soon as she'd gotten him out of the bathroom. Her first emotion had been sympathy. She understood the humiliation of being slapped in the face, and Lizzie had broken a very serious rule: No hitting. Becky knew Lizzie was aware of the rule and she trusted Peter to deal harshly with the little girl as a result of her breaking it. She felt bad for <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city>, because he was still so new at the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>. And she knew from his file that he was accustomed to being poked, prodded and generally made fun of. She couldn't imagine being <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> and she wouldn't want to be in his shoes. Chubby little boys didn't tend to do so well in school. She could remember that much from her own early childhood. Already she had decided to get him a good workout with the horses, or maybe encourage him to run around outside more, though for the time being he had mostly wanted to hang out in the house and watch television. She'd already taken away the video games.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Now the chubby little boy was standing in front of Becky in the kitchen, crying. She'd begun to grow accustomed to seeing and hearing him cry, and the longer it went on, the more she became annoyed with it. It seemed to Becky that little boys just weren't supposed to cry that much. She understood that Lizzie had slapped him in the face. She could see the red mark. And she also understood that such a slap in the face was painful and humiliating for anybody, but perhaps most of all for a boy. The irritation had her on edge, her hands clutching her thighs tightly as he stood in front of her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, for goodness sake, stop with the tears!" Becky said, not without sympathy. Her voice wasn't hard, but it held the fact that she couldn't talk to him until he got control of himself. The crying had to stop, or nothing she said was going to get through to the little boy, and she needed to know what on earth he'd been in the bathroom for. There were two floors, one of the boys and another for the girls, and each one of them had their own bathrooms. There were no excuses for him to be in with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, though Becky was half expecting to hear that he'd been invited in there. She was not happy with the way that Lizzie had been behaving since Peter had shown up, and she was frustrated that Lizzie and Jackie weren't interacting with one another at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">After what seemed like forever (about five minutes) Jackie had finally calmed down enough for Becky to speak and know she was being heard. "Jackie," she said, her voice level. "I'm sorry that Lizzie hit you. She's being dealt with right now. Mr. Peter is having a talk with her about breaking a rule she's very aware of. But you and I need to talk because I need to know what you were doing in the bathroom on the girls' floor. That's against the rules too. So why were you in there?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little boy shifted from one foot to the other. On observation, Becky had the realization that he hadn't thought this far ahead. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, and she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing heavily in disappointment. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. The headache that was brewing seemed to be the first one in a long time. "Jackson Theodore Seeber, I want an answer. Right now. Why were you in the girls' bathroom?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Um..." the little boy said. He began to chew on his lower lip, and now his hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his blue jeans. Becky glanced over at the hairbrush she'd run to fetch from her apartment and bring into the kitchen, and she wondered briefly if <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had any idea what its intended use was. She'd already decided how this conversation was going to end, it was just a matter now of how hard that ending was going to be, for both of them, and knowing <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place>'s tearful tendencies, for the other two as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Alright," Becky said, after having given him what she felt was sufficient time to answer. "I'm going to have to assume that you were in the girls' bathroom to irritate Lizzie. There was no other reason for you to be in there, whatsoever. You were already fully dressed, and so you weren't looking for a towel. Your things are all in the boys' bathroom, so you weren't in there looking for your comb." Which he badly needed, Becky noted. Maybe when she was done using the hairbrush on his hind end she would use it in the manner it was intended. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little boy scowled, and he looked like he was ready to make some kind of a protestation. Both of Becky's eyebrows raised, and she made a gesture that indicated she was willing to hear a better explanation. When, after a moment of what appeared to be intense thought on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s part, there appeared to be no answer, Becky decided that the matter was done. Unless he had been about to have an accident on the way down the stairs (and she was sure he would have told her if that was the case), there was no reason for him to be in that bathroom while Lizzie was in the shower. Unless <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had some darker reason for being in the bathroom, his purpose was to irritate the little girl, and Becky had a sinking feeling he felt that he could do so and get away with it. That meant she was going to have to have a talk with Lizzie, or at least try to smooth things over with the ten year old. Rearing more than one child at a time was hard work, and Becky was realizing that too late to change her mind, especially considering that the process had already begun for another youngster.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky took a slow, deep breath, trying to push the headache aside. It would be another few minutes before she could go and get some aspirin and she didn't expect a seven year-old boy to understand why she needed to get up in the middle of an impending punishment. Just like the last time, he didn't seem nervous at all, and Becky wondered if he knew that he was in any kind of trouble. In fact, he didn't seem to quite comprehend until her hands were on the button of his jeans, undoing it and tugging the zipper down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">His hands quickly went to hers, and the tears started right up again. She wasn't sure now whether or not they were earnest, but she had little sympathy. She'd been listening to Jackson Seeber cry for the past ten minutes, and she'd already had enough of it. "Jackson Theodore Seeber, you knew you broke the rules when you did it, but you didn't think that you were going to get in trouble, did you?" she asked, her voice stern as she pushed the little boy's jeans down to his knees. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"S'not fair!" the little boy sniffled as he shifted from one foot to the other anxiously, almost as though he thought he could work his jeans back up by doing so. But before he could even consider putting his hands down to yank them back up, Becky was at work sliding his briefs down after his jeans, settling those, too, down at his knees. "I don' wanna getta spankin'!" Jackie cried, stomping his foot. "She's one who hit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>, member?" he said, pouting, with anger in his voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I remember," Becky said seriously. "And I know that must have hurt and made you feel very bad," she said. "Just like it made Lizzie feel bad when she found out that you were in the bathroom while she was taking a shower. Now she's had to pay for her mistake and you're going to pay for yours, too." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"But she already <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hit</i> me!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky recognized a stalling tactic when she saw it, and although she already cared a great deal for <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city>, just as she cared a great deal for Lizzie, she thought that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> needed to learn how to handle things better, and more effectively. Especially as a boy he was likely to run into problems if he didn't learn to handle his problems without tears. She could already see future residents pushing him around if he didn't get a handle on his emotions, and her mind briefly went to Lizzie. Becky sighed softly and looked directly into <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s blue eyes. "Lizzie reacted because you scared her and upset her. I'm not upset. I'm not angry. But I do need to give you a spanking so that you won't do this again. You broke the rules, and I need to make sure that you don't do that again, or keep doing it." She paused briefly. "I know that you don't understand right now, but eventually you will. And if I ever catch you in the girls' bathroom again, the consequences are going to be very severe. I hope you understand that much."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">She made it a statement and not a question because she didn't want to get the whining and the stalling started again. It was time for Becky to punish <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city>, and make sure that his chubby bottom took the consequences for what he had done to Lizzie just as her slender one had taken the consequences of slapping <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky took a deep breath and put her hands on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulders, gently guiding him over to her side. He hobbled slightly with his jeans and briefs around his knees, and it took a bit longer to get there. Finally she was able to help him up and over her lap, lifting him carefully, if a bit awkwardly, so that he was squarely across her lap. She shifted slightly, mindful of his comfort, and carefully situated him so that she could effectively pin him down without doing any real damage. Reaching across her body, she picked up her hairbrush and then patted it gently against his bottom. "You remember the last spanking, Jackson Theodor Seeber. This is really going to hurt, and I'm not going to stop until I'm sure that we won't be doing this again, at least not soon. So if you want to grab hold of the rungs of that chair, you go ahead and do that. You can kick your legs and cry and scream all you want, but I'm not going to stop until I think you're done," she added, feeling that it was important for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> to understand that his tears would have no effect on her at this point in time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky waited for a moment while the child situated himself more comfortably and let out a little whining sob. She'd known that it was coming, but even so it almost seemed as though the child's attitude fueled within her the knowledge that she needed to do this, however bad it made her feet. With a stern expression on her face, Becky gave the little boy's chubby bottom another couple of hard taps, which elicited a squeal from the little boy. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, I haven't even begun," Becky scolded, then raised the hairbrush and brought it down hard and squarely across his bottom so that it bridged both cheeks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Then she set about the spanking in earnest, spanking first one cheek, then the other, back and forth, both hard and fast. She had to make an impression this time that it was not okay for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> to go into the girls' bathroom, but more than that he needed to understand that he wasn't going to get away with anything here on her watch. He wasn't better, or more loved than Lizzie. They had equal standing at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>, regardless of what Jackson Theodore Seeber might think.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The spanking went on briskly and hard. The thick legs of the little boy kicked out behind him, and the sounds of blubbering and bawling coming from him embarrassed the young woman who was administering the spanking. It occurred to her that she was embarrassed for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> because he didn't know how to be embarrassed for himself. He begged and he pleaded, and Becky knew that he heard not a word of her lecture as she dished it out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You are not to go into the girls' bathrooms for any reason, Jackson Theodore Seeber. Not ever!" Becky said, punctuating each word with a hard smack of the hairbrush to his upturned bottom. Every now and again when he kicked she would smack his thigh for emphasis of what she was trying to make him understand. "You upset and frightened Lizzie and it doesn't matter that she slapped you. I'm not dealing with her, I'm dealing with you. And when you see her, you are going to apologize? Aren't you?" The last two words were the end of the lecture, and Becky<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lay another dozen hard spanks directly to the little boy's sit spots. When she was finished, his bottom was a flaming red, and she could feel the heat radiating off of it. He hadn't completely surrendered to the spanking, but then she hadn't expected that from him. The seven year-old was still blubbering over her lap when she was finished, and Becky let him stay there for another several minutes before she helped him up, easing him off her lap and then into it, upright.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little boy winced as his raw bottom came into contact with Becky's thigh. She wasn't surprised that she could actually feel the heat through the fabric of her skirt, and she gave a small, soft smile as she gently pulled him to her chest and smoothed his hair, then picked up the brush and began to work on it. It never would quite lay flat, but at least it could look a bit more presentable. When she was finished, she smoothed it over with her fingers, and by the time that was done <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was only hiccuping in her lap. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky drew back and turned her head so that she could look the child in his blue eyes. "Now," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "That's over. I hope you don't ever go into that bathroom again and bother Lizzie, and I hope that both of you have learned your lessons now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">A sound behind her drew Becky's attention, and Peter entered with his arm around Lizzie's shoulders. Becky smiled toward the little girl and reached her arm out. The ten year-old hesitated, and Becky sighed. There was almost no way that Lizzie was going to come to her with <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city> in her lap, and there was no way that she could oust <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> so that she could provide comfort to Lizzie. They weren't siblings, and she couldn't expect them to act like friends after everything they'd been through. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Okay," Becky said after a few moments. "Why don't you two help us to get the food outside so that we can start this barbeque already. I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving!" she grinned at both of them, then reached out to ruffle <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s hair, bending afterward to kiss Lizzie on the cheek. It wasn't everything, but it was a start toward restoring their relationship, and at least she wasn't shying away from Peter any more, at least for the time being.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The adults stood back as Lizzie loaded her arms full of food and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> grabbed the bag of marshmallows and the hot dogs. Becky glanced at Peter and they shared a smile as the two children scrambled outside with their arms full, and then they followed them outside. It would be a nice treat for the children, and maybe the little quartet could share some quality time together for a change. If only Lizzie would relax and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> would stop crying at the drop of a hat, they might almost resemble a real family....</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-68318086700495441452010-07-20T11:23:00.000-07:002010-07-20T11:23:21.039-07:00Foster Forest (7): Here We Go Again (Jackson Arrives)<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">A sob caught in Lizzie's throat as she came back down the stairs. She'd changed her clothes, and although she was still wearing panties, the skirt she wore now wasn't as tight on her backside as the jeans she'd had on before. She still felt hot and sore and bruised, and there was a tingling sensation of intense resentment for Peter Grisson that she couldn't deny or cover up. What made the situation worse for the little ten year old was the fact that she wasn't really sure why she'd gotten the last spanking. He'd grabbed her, and the tall blonde-haired man was frightening as he towered over her. She didn't really know what he'd wanted from her, and she'd panicked, and reacted to her panic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">So many things hurt in those moments. Her bottom was bruised and aching, still throbbing from the spanking. Her heart hurt because she felt that Peter had rejected her and treated her cruelly. She hurt because Becky hadn't said a word to her except to point her upstairs to wash her face and change her clothes. All the anger had drained out of her, and she was left feeling lonely, hurt, and scared. Ms. Becky had said something about somebody coming. It didn't make any sense at all to Lizzie, but as she reached the bottom of the stairs she stood stock still when she heard voices out in the Great Room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I'm sorry for bringing you an emergency case, Ms. Thomas," an unfamiliar female voice was saying. "I don't usually deal with the emergencies, but this is a special situation. He was in foster care for eight months while his parents went through the system. He'd only been home for a month when the crash happened. I don't think he really understands what's going on, and he's scared," the soft, caring voice of the woman went on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"> closed her eyes. For a moment she allowed herself to simply soak up that tone of voice, the tone that she thought of as love. Peter had been so hard, and Becky hadn't stood in his way. If anything, Lizzie felt as though her female guardian had passed her off as soon as she had found out that another person was going to be coming to the forest. She'd been so happy that her only observation of Lizzie's misery had been to send her to her room to change her clothes and to tell her to wash her face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">That had stung. She'd been sure that at least Ms. Becky would understand the unfairness of the whole thing. She wasn't even totally sure why Peter had spanked her either of the times he'd gotten on her that day. It hurt her feelings that he'd practically launched himself at her with almost no explanation at all. She'd been upset at first, then really scared. While she was mature enough to understand that it was probably her outburst that had gotten her into trouble at his house, she'd been so scared then. Just the memory of school made <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> freeze and feel a surge of distrust. The teachers had condemned her instead of rescuing her, and it was not something she would easily forget. Peter himself elicited a similar distrust, especially after the day they'd spent together.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"We're happy to give him somewhere to stay," Becky was saying when <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> opened her eyes and began to listen again. There were few words spoken after that, and she soon heard the front door open and then close. Once again their "family" was alone, except that there was one more member in it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Although she'd only been at the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place> a little bit over a month, Lizzie had been under the impression that she would know when another child was being brought into the home. She'd never thought that she'd be given a choice in the matter, but it had also never occurred to her that it might happen so quickly. She'd expected to be prepared to face whatever was coming. This was not a pleasant surprise for the insecure ten year-old.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The little girl sniffled. She was too upset to care if the two adults and the new arrival saw that she was crying. She didn't care if her eyes were puffy and red as she finally finished coming all the way down the stairs. It didn't matter to her at all if they felt bad that they'd left her out of the decision. In fact, she would relish the expression on their faces as they turned to look at her and see just how upset she was. She would feel a great deal of satisfaction as Peter realized how much he'd hurt her, and when Becky understood that she'd really let her down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Instead, they didn't even turn toward her. Between them there was a chubby little boy who was probably a few years younger than Lizzie. He had brown hair that stuck up and out everywhere in little clumps. Other than that, she couldn't see anything except that he was thickly built, and that it wasn't mostly muscle. Lizzie could see that the boy was crying from the way that his shoulders kept heaving, but it was a silent kind of crying. She could tell, immediately, that he was only looking for attention and sympathy. That had been her game. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Rolling her eyes behind the boy's back, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> quietly crept up behind the trio and slid her hand into Becky's palm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The effect was immediate, and not what Lizzie expected. Becky jerked, pulling her hand away as though she'd been stung. It was clear that she hadn't expected <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> to interrupt whatever was going on. Surprised, and hurt, Lizzie also jumped back, her brown eyes widening and moving to scan the faces around her. The little boy's head was still down, and he didn't look at her, though Peter gave her a stern expression. Her first instinct was to take off for the library, but she didn't want him to be angry with her for reading before the chores he'd told her to do were done. He'd made very clear what his expectations were, and she was sure that she wouldn't make the same mistake again, at least not with regards to chores.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Didn't I tell you to go to your room, Elizabeth?" Becky asked, her voice colder than the little girl expected.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie felt her mouth go dry, even as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She took a step back and shook her head from side to side. "N-no ma'am," she said, her voice breaking as the fear caught up with her. She'd already had two spankings that day and suddenly she was certain that a third could not be avoided. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Peter and I had a talk while we were waiting for <st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city> to get here," Becky said, regarding <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> with a gaze that seemed to be studying her very, very carefully. "I don't want to hear another word about you giving him any kind of attitude, young lady. I'm going to be here tonight to get him settled in," she said, indicating the little boy, "but otherwise you know that on my nights off, Peter is fully in charge of you. If he tells you to do something, you are not to argue with him. You are to do what he says. Period. Do you understand me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The knot of fear in Lizzie's stomach nearly made her double over. She thought for a moment that she might be sick, and she spun on her heels to rush for the bathroom. Becky's voice called her back. "I'm still talking to you, young lady!" the woman called, and Lizzie stopped short, turning around slowly and nodding her head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">It wasn't obedience that she had a problem with. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was having a difficult time settling in, and she was more distant than either of her guardians truly appreciated. But when all was said and done, the distance came from an incredible fear that had been planted within her by a former foster father. He'd been terrible. He had touched her in ways that made her face heat up with the feeling of shame even two years later. He had always told her that it was important to obey him no matter what. And if she didn't, there were consequences. The sick feeling returned, and the little girl finally turned and fled up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she slammed the door behind her and threw herself on the bed, sobbing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><a name='more'></a></span></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Wow..." Peter said, blinking in surprise as <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> took off. "What on earth was that all about?" As little as Becky knew about the child's past, Peter knew even less. At least the file on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> had felt thick. Perhaps there would be enough information. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I don't know," Becky said after a moment. "But I've learned it's best to just let her cool off," she added quickly. "I'll talk to her about it after supper. For now I think that I should show <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> to his room." She picked up the file and stored it in a (locked) filing cabinet to deal with later. It was too busy a period of time to have to focus on what was going on with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. That was the way with families, and even more so with foster care. Sometimes the needs of one had to come before the needs of another, and Becky had no qualms about taking care of the new little boy before dealing with what she saw as further misbehavior from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. They could both do with some cooling off time, anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter wasn't the "cooling off" type. If there was something wrong with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, he wanted to know what it was. He was becoming agitated with being left in the dark about things like her expulsion. He was her guardian for goodness sake! Wasn't this critical information? He'd been the one to make the mistake; he could see that now. He should have known about what had happened at school, and Becky should have told him. Of course he didn't have all the details, but he did understand that it had something to do with not getting along with one of her teachers very well. Or something like that. Though it was easy to imagine the ten year old not getting along with someone, and he could see how the solution might have made sense for the private school, he also had to admit that he felt a pang of sympathy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">His mind full of what he was about to do, and trying to decide how he should proceed, Peter headed up the stairs. He imagined that Becky would be busy for quite some time, which left him responsible for dealing with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. However much he believed that it was the woman's responsibility to talk to the child who obviously trusted her, he definitely wasn't equipped to handle settling <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> into his new room. Besides, crying boys were harder for Peter to handle than crying little girls, and Becky would be much more apt to offer him the comfort that he needed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Outside Lizzie's door, Peter paused, his hand raised to knock. After a brief speculation, he thought better of it and instead put his hand on the knob and pushed the door open. Lizzie was still on the bed, where she'd thrown herself. Her entire body was shaking with the force of her sobs, and Peter felt a twinge in his heart that he hadn't expected. Had he really been the one to cause her physical pain only a few hours ago? The thought itself was entirely foreign to the man. He went to pull the chair out from by her desk, dragging it over to beside the bed, and then sat down in it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Please don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me," the little girl was murmuring over and over. Her head was buried in her pillow and she was shaking it back and forth. Her arms had been drawn up to her chest as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter recognized fear when he saw it. He didn't like the reaction the child was having to him, and he didn't understand its origins nearly well enough. Although he didn't touch her, Peter did lean forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands loosely folded. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," he said in a calm, neutral voice. "I want to talk to you about what happened earlier. But first I want to know why you're so upset."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I hate you," the muffled voice of the ten year-old little girl said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter nodded his head solemnly. "I can understand why you would feel that way right now," he said seriously. "Sometimes I hated my mother after she gave me a spanking. Especially if I thought I didn't deserve it, and I'm guessing that you think you didn't deserve the ones I gave you. Would I be right?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The little girl made no answer except that her sobs became heavier as she clutched her pillow to her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Closing his eyes, Peter thought for a moment. "Okay," he said slowly and deliberately. "What happened downstairs? Why are you so upset with Ms. Becky?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Don' wanna talk about it," came the muffled response.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter sat back and blew out a slow breath. "Okay," he said after a long moment of silence. "I'm not going to make you talk about it. But I would like to try to make you feel better, and I have something to say to you. But I'm not going to say it to the back of your head," he added quickly. He didn't like talking to the child while she was turned away from him, and he certainly wanted her full attention for what he wanted to say next.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">After a moment, the little girl slowly rolled onto her side. She didn't prop herself up, but her puffy, red eyes were looking at Peter. She waved her hand in an "on with it" motion that made Peter grit his teeth. They were going to have to work on attitude and respect later on, he decided. It was best to get one problem dealt with at a time, rather than trying to focus on too many. He didn't want to confuse the issues, and although Lizzie was hardly a very young child (old enough to know better), she was very vulnerable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I'm sorry," Peter said when he was sure that he had her full attention. "I'm sorry that I lost my temper with you at my house. I'm sorry that I spanked you when I did. I shouldn't have. You didn't deserve that. I was pushing you too far and I can understand why you got angry, and if you were scared, I can understand that too," he said, leaning back in his chair and watching as one emotion after another passed over Lizzie's face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">When Peter was finished speaking, the little girl let out a choked sob and turned back into her pillow, wrapping her arms under herself again. Peter observed that she had no plush animals or anything to provide added comfort if she needed it, and he felt a twinge of sympathy for her. He still had the teddy bear that had comforted him so many times after spankings when he'd been growing up, and she had nothing, and right now, nobody. Even Peter had been surprised by Becky's abrupt rejection of the girl, and his heart hurt for her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Come on," Peter said, pushing up out of his chair. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Let's go downstairs and start working on something for supper. I think Becky has a note up on the fridge what the menu is for each night, so I bet we can manage it. You know she hates to cook, and she'll be busy with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> for a little while. What do you say?" He wasn't telling her: he was legitimately asking her whether or not she was willing to help. Perhaps a different approach would help the situation a bit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">After a moment of consideration, Lizzie slowly pushed herself off of her bed. "Okay," she said, her voice very low. Peter had to resist the urge to put his hand on her shoulder to provide some comfort, but she'd asked him not to touch her and he wasn't going to. Instead he balled his hand into a fist and allowed the ten year-old to lead him out of the room. He followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen. Since Becky and Jackson were nowhere to be found, Peter understood that the young woman was still comforting the little boy and helping him to settle in.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter went to the fridge and saw that Becky was planning on serving fried chicken with green beans and potato salad. It seemed easy enough to Peter, who knew how to fix all of that. He went to the fridge and pulled out the chicken and, surprised to find them there, the breadcrumbs as well. He reached in for the eggs, trying to decide what he could have Lizzie do to help. She was standing near the table, and he realized that she wasn't going to be comfortable sitting for at least a couple of days. He'd have to try to find an inconspicuous way to get a pillow onto her seat so that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> wouldn't notice and potentially make fun of her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Okay," Peter said, gesturing for her to come over and join him. "Have you ever beaten eggs before?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Half an hour later, the dinner was done and there was a pillow sitting on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s seat. Peter expected Becky to come down at any moment, as he'd called up to her five minutes before. Lizzie still seemed to be hesitant to sit down, in spite of the cushioning, but during the preparations for the meal she'd spoken up a bit, and Peter thought that they might have bonded over the question of why Becky was so angry with her. Neither of them could understand why the redhead seemed to be in such a temper, especially after she'd been so excited to find out that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was going to be coming their way. Lizzie had shed some tears, and Peter had given her some space, and everything had worked out in the end.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">When Becky and Jackson finally came down the stairs, Lizzie was settled on her cushion. Although it was clear that she was still uncomfortable, Peter knew that she felt a lot better on the cushion than she would have on the bare, hard wood of the chair. He was satisfied that he'd done his best for her, but he instantly had second thoughts when he noticed the gleam in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s eyes when he noticed the cushion. "Somebody got a spanking!" he said, then grinned hugely.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter and Becky exchanged looks. This wasn't a situation they'd talked about, or been prepared for. "Jackie, that isn't nice," Becky said, her tone gentle as she reached across the little boy to dish some green beans onto his plate. "You wouldn't want anyone to point out if you had gotten a spanking, would you?" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Considering the matter closed, Peter passed the plate of chicken to Lizzie. But clearly the matter was not closed. He caught her tear filled eyes and sighed, shaking his head. As he glanced back to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, the little boy had his mouth open to make another comment. "What did you do?" he was asking <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The little girl pressed her lips together and passed the plate of chicken over to Becky. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Elizabeth Moore, you didn't have any lunch, and by golly you're going to have yourself some supper," Peter said sternly, taking the plate back from Becky and putting a single strip of fried chicken breast on Lizzie's plate. "I know you don't want to have any more trouble today, so how about you just finish your supper and we won't have to have another talk."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"S-sorry," Lizzie choked, then took the green beans and dished a few onto her own plate. She didn't look up, didn't meet anybody's eyes. She didn't want to talk about why she had gotten a spanking.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">said</i>, 'What'd you do?'" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> asked, a bit more insistently now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, that is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enough</i>," Peter said, more forcefully than Becky had done. "What Lizzie did is between her and me and it is none of your business."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">After waiting for Becky to say a prayer over the meal, Peter began to wolf his food as was typical for him. He wasn't the best cook in the world, but he did enjoy fried chicken. He thought that maybe he'd get a grill and they could have a backyard barbeque one of these days over the summer. He was lost in his own thoughts until the seven year-old boy said, "I bet you get spankin's all the time."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Peter's teeth set on edge, and he was surprised by the cool tone in Becky's voice. "You were told the rules upstairs, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, so you know what you are and are not allowed to do. I'm telling you one last time to drop the subject."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"But why?" the little boy whined. "I just wanna know what she did. What's the big deal?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">With gritted teeth Becky said, "Okay. That's enough. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>, you can go and stand in the corner by the refrigerator while the rest of us eat. We'll talk about this after the rest of us have had supper. Then you can eat and go to bed."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"I told Lizzie she could stay up an hour later to read since she helped me with supper," Peter interjected quickly, even before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> could get up from the table. There were two shocked faces pointed up at him, and he shrugged. "Nobody said that books couldn't be used as a reward." He turned his head slightly to where the little boy still hadn't gotten down out of his chair to go to the corner as instructed. "Right now Jackson Seeber. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Thanks," Lizzie whispered under her breath, her voice full of emotion. She didn't look up from her plate, but she did eat with a bit more enthusiasm as the seven year-old finally hopped down out of his chair and went to stand in the corner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzie was in the library with her book before Becky was ready to deal with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>. Even after the troubles with Lizzie she was shocked that the boy would disregard so many warnings. She'd been doing her best to avoid having to give him a spanking on his first day in his new home. In fact, she still regretted having done the same to Lizzie when she'd first arrived, and that spanking had been filled with the heat of anger. She was still kicking herself over that situation, but at least now she was calm as she called <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> out of the corner. She wasn't sure where Peter was, but she hoped that he'd tucked himself up in his apartment so that he wouldn't need to be part of this as well. She wasn't sure what he did with his free time -- other than pain, of course -- but it would be good for all of them if he was out of the way, so <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> wouldn't wind up any more embarrassed by the entire scene than he needed to be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">With <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> in front of her, Becky pulled him gently between her legs. With both hands she began to work on the buttons on his jeans. She had a small wooden spoon already placed on the table, ready to do the job that was so unfortunately necessary. As she pushed his jeans down to his knees, Becky caught the little boy's blue-eyed gaze with her own intense green gaze. "I told you the rules when we were upstairs, young man. And you will remember that one of those rules is 'Always do as you are told.' I had hoped I wouldn't need to point out that little children shouldn't make fun of others who are being punished, but unfortunately it seems that I must point that out to you now. Lizzie's punishment was over, and you made her feel very, very bad. That was a very naughty thing you did, and much worse because Mr. Peter and I told you to stop, but you didn't. Do you understand what you did wrong?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The little boy shrugged. "I woulda told her, 'specially if she was new," he said. There was no real sign of emotion here now, and Becky had the feeling that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> was very used to spankings. She hadn't had a chance to go through his file yet, but that would come later. For right now discipline needed to be meted out. It surprised her that he'd cried more upon his arrival than he was with an impending spanking, but she would get to the bottom of this -- literally, as it happened.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Well, in this house you keep those kinds of things to yourself. It's nobody's business but between you and the person who's punishing you. Understand?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Again <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> shrugged. "I guess so," he said, as Becky pushed his briefs to his knees along with his jeans. Without waiting to be instructed or for much help, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> scrambled up over Becky's lap and helped her get him into a good position. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Surprised, Becky shook her head. He didn't have any idea what to expect; that much Becky was sure of. She spanked hard, and fast, and generally very long. She didn't know about Peter, except that Lizzie was absolutely miserable and she'd never seen the ten year-old quite like that before. It seemed to her that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Jackson</st1:city></st1:place> was in a very unfamiliar situation, and he was as cool as a cucumber.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Jackson Theodore Seeber, you know that this is going to be a real spanking. It's going to hurt, and I make sure that my spankings hurt a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lot</i>," Becky said, as though introducing the child to the concept of spankings. But when <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> only shrugged his shoulders, the young redhead felt the heat of anger flush beneath the surface and cause her face to redden.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Alright," she said after a moment, reaching across herself to pick up the spoon that she'd placed there. For a moment she wondered if she shouldn't have used the hairbrush, a heavier implement. Instantly she thought better of getting up to go and get it, and she secured Jackson, her hand lightly on his back, the spoon resting against his bottom. She wasn't going to pin him down unless he showed her that he needed to be, and her expectation was that he'd be stoic throughout the punishment, as he'd been in preparing to receive it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Without any further ado, Becky landed a hard smack of the spoon down on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s right cheek. Instantly she realized that she'd made a mistake. The husky little boy rolled right off her lap, squealing in surprise and pain. His hands were on his backside, clutching the spot where he'd just received the first hard pop from the wooden spoon, and already there were tears in his eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Becky reached her hand down to gently help the child to his feet. He scrambled up, still rubbing furiously as though he expected the whole ordeal to be over. But she wasn't done yet, and not by a long shot. "We aren't done," Becky said, firmly pulling the child back to her and guiding him back up and over her lap. This time she secured his legs behind her right thigh, his bottom high up over her left. She tucked her left hand around his side, because although he was thickly built, the little boy was still very young. She didn't put a lot of pressure on him yet, but she would as the spanking went on and the heat in his backside built and built.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Once she had him in place, Becky brought the spoon down again, this time on his left cheek, focusing very carefully on his sit spots. She'd thought, at first, that she would need to get his entire bottom right down to his knees covered in red splotches before he would be ready to submit to the spanking, but now she had a better idea of how weakened and emotional the little boy was. She was still going to get the job done, and make an impression on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> that he was never to make Lizzie feel that way again. But she would do so with less heat and anger in her stance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"Okay," Becky said, not that she was sure she had him plenty secure. "Now you are going to get a real spanking, young man. It's obvious you've been spanked before, but I somehow doubt that anybody's really done the job that needed doing, or you probably wouldn't have been making fun of Lizzie the way that you did. As I said before, this is really going to hurt."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">With that, she began spanking in earnest, using the little wooden spoon to smack down with a flick of her wrist on first one cheek, then the other, focusing intently on his sit spots. She didn't talk a lot, but she did occasionally pause to punctuate the spanking with a word or two of her own. "You really hurt Lizzie's feelings," she said the first time. Right afterward, she delivered six especially hard and slow spanks right to the tops of the boy's thighs before moving back to his sit spots.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The spanking went on for what seemed like a long time, even for Becky. But when she glanced at the clock, it had only lasted a little over four minutes. She finished up with a rapid fire application of ten fast, very hard spanks to the backs of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s thighs, and then she stopped. Placing the spoon on the table, Becky put her hand on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city>'s hot backside, which seemed to be radiating heat from everywhere. His body was totally limp over her lap, and the little boy was sobbing, tears and snot running down his face in streams.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">"What you did, Jackson Seeber, was very mean to Lizzie. Tomorrow morning you're going to apologize to her. For now, you're going to sit down in your seat and eat your supper. I'll heat it up for you." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">She helped the little boy off of her lap and settled his clothing, pulling his briefs and then his jeans up over his hot, enflamed bottom. She was sure there would be a couple of little bruises the next day, and the mere thought made her wince. She'd probably gone too hard on him, but deliberate disobedience had been a recent big problem in the children's home, and she didn't want to see it become persistent. Sighing, Becky gave the child a very quick hug, and then gestured to a chair. "Sit down, I'll heat your supper up. When you're finished, you can go to bed early and we'll have a better day tomorrow, hmmm?" she asked, giving him a sad smile as she took his plate to the microwave.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">Neither of them said anything as <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Jackson</st1:place></st1:city> sniffled through his meal, shifting uncomfortably from one side to the other as he tried to take his weight off his bottom.</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-57011419990356356832010-07-18T21:23:00.000-07:002010-07-18T21:24:30.855-07:00Foster Forest (6): Stress and Strain<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Three days had passed since Peter had first suggested to Becky that he was going to take <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> to his house to help him unpack. When he'd gotten up to her room that day and opened the door, the little girl had been curled up on her side, her arm tucked around a book. She had been fast asleep. Because Peter hadn't had the heart to wake her and begin the war all over again, he had allowed her to sleep, had slipped from her room, and had gone on about his business.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">As far as Peter was concerned, the three days in between had been hell. Becky told him that the behavior was normal for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, but his insides were churning with the desire to change what was "normal" into something a lot better than what he was seeing. Toward him, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was surly and unpleasant. She disrespected everything he said and was unmanageable to the point where Becky had allowed Peter three days off to work on getting himself established in his own home. In other words, she had separated them. Toward Becky, <st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city> was simply disrespectful, and although she obeyed almost everything the young woman told her to do, Peter decided that he'd given <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> a distinct advantage in what appeared to be an ongoing war between them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">His days off had been spent deciding how he was going to handle the "situation" that was <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. Normal children did chores and weren't allowed to disrespect their parents. As strict as Becky was, Peter decided that she was also too sympathetic to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, and he knew that would have to change before there were more than one children in the house. If these were to be difficult kids he couldn't imagine the chaos that would result from such a serious lack of discipline. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s attitude would change, and change for the better. Otherwise, what he knew to be Becky's mission at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place> would fail.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">On the fourth day Peter arrived at the house in time for breakfast, but not to make it. He still wasn't "on duty" until that evening, but he wanted to have some time to spend with Becky and Elizabeth, since he'd been so hard at work getting the furniture set up and creating his studio in one of the upstairs bedrooms of the house. He was hoping for a good morning, and when he walked into the house and smelled bacon and eggs cooking, a smile spread across his face. He'd let Becky know he'd be here, so he was certain there would be enough.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Shit!" He heard Becky's voice coming from the kitchen, and broke into a jog as he tried to get there quickly. He wasn't sure how often the woman swore, but given that he saw it as an unattractive trait in a woman, he had made it up in his mind that this very attractive woman didn't swear very often at all. Something serious must be going on to make her curse. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Rounding the corner, Peter saw that Becky had her finger tucked into her mouth, sucking on it. He let out a short chuckle in spite of himself. "What happened?" he asked, putting his hand on hers and pulling down so that he could take a look. "Burn yourself?" he asked when he saw the small red mark. Peter sighed and sat down at one of the kitchen chairs, pulling Becky along with him. He took a good, long look at the burn and then nodded. "Let me get you an ice pack, and I'll finish up breakfast. Cooking isn't my strong suit though, I'll warn you!" He grinned, and then winked at Becky as he went to the freezer and pulled an ice pack out, handing it to her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'm not either," Becky confessed, and he could hear a hint of regret in her voice. He turned from where he'd gone to the sink. Her eyes were still following him around the room, and Peter felt a strange flush creep up his face. He nodded his head and quickly pulled the scrambled eggs off the griddle before they burned. "I was pretty much done," Becky said. "The bacon and hash browns are in the oven. If you just want to throw some toast on, I'll go get Lizzie."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Where is she?" Peter asked, turning over his shoulder to take a look at Becky, his eyebrows raising. It seemed to him that the girl should be here, in the kitchen, helping with the preparations. At the very least she could be rinsing the dishes that were used in cooking and putting them into the dish washer. There was no reason for a ten year-old not to have some chores of her own, and he hoped that she was maybe out feeding the horses or maybe cleaning her room -- or the library, for that matter. It didn't matter what the chores <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> as far as Peter was concerned: what mattered was that she had some of them to learn responsibility.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"She's in the library... <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Reading</st1:place></st1:city>." The words were spoken in such a way that Peter knew that his employer was aware he wouldn't be happy with the situation. When he looked toward her, Becky's eyes were averted. "I can't... Force her to do anything she doesn't want to do," Becky said. "And I haven't got the heart to fight with her," she added.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Hiding his anger, Peter turned back and began to rinse the cooking dishes, putting them away in the dish washer and then adding the soap and running it. It was full now. "Go get her," he said. "She and I are going to have a talk today. She's going to help me to unpack the rest of my things over at the house. I'm not afraid of her Becky, and if there's going to be a fight, so be it. Her behavior isn't normal for a child her age and she needs to take on some responsibility. End of story."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter didn't leave any room for argument, and Becky got up straight away and returned several moments later with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. Peter had already gotten the table set and had put the plates together, one at each setting. He pulled out a chair for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> and waited while she got into it, then tucked it up to the table and took his own seat. For a long time he regarded her coolly. Becky said a prayer over the food, and breakfast began.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">There was silence for about five minutes. Elizabeth and Becky both seemed to eat slowly, though Peter wolfed down his food and pushed his plate aside. He was eager to get the argument he knew was coming out of the way. Clearing his throat, Peter looked directly at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "You're going to come over to my house today to help me get the rest of my things unpacked. Then Ms. Becky has the night off tonight, so if she wants to go and do something other than hang around here, it will just be you and me." He hadn't meant to sound harsh, or demanding, though even Peter had to admit that the look of exasperation Becky was giving him was probably well deserved.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I don't want to," <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> said, scooping some hash browns into her mouth and chewing slowly. She didn't meet Peter's eyes, and he had a feeling in his gut that meant she knew he was going to win this argument even before it started.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"It's interesting," Peter said, feigning thoughtfulness. "I don't remember <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">asking</i>. You are going to come over and help me to get something done, and then tonight we're going to talk about proper chores for you to do around here. I'd like to see this place be as close to a family as possible, and in a family, everybody pulls their weight."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Yeah? Well this isn't my family!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> snapped, her brown eyes blazing as she looked up to meet Peter's gaze. She pushed back from the table and stomped off. Listening, Peter determined that she hadn't gone upstairs, and he suspected that meant the library. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Clenching his jaw, Peter picked up his plate and went to scrape it into the sink. He turned on the disposal and let it run for a moment before putting his plate into the dishwasher, along with his utensils. He was spending the necessary time cooling off, and he didn't so much as turn to look at Becky while he performed all of these menial tasks. He knew what he had to do, and he was going to carry out the necessary work, especially if she was unwilling herself. He shot Becky a glance as he left the kitchen and headed for the library. Peter could only hope that Becky didn't start picking up after <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. He realized now that because he had picked up the library after her he'd given a very definite wrong impression.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">In the doorway of the library, Peter stopped and put a hand on his hip. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was curled up in a chair with a stack of books on the end table and another book in her lap. He glanced at the stack, feeling his anger rising, but he pushed it back. At least the books weren't strewn all around the room, and since his standards were so high he couldn't impose them on everybody else or he'd have <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> scrubbing baseboards every couple of weeks. That would be slave labor, and far from fair. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter could tell from the shift of her body language that Lizzie knew he was there. "Elizabeth Moore," he said in a steady but cool voice. "Look at me." Peter felt that he was being more than fair in giving the little girl a chance to talk to him before he made his point. But this was her last chance, and if she didn't cooperate with him this time, she was going to be miserable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What?" the ten year-old snapped, looking up at Peter with anger in her brown eyes. "What do you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i>?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i>," Peter stressed, "is for you to follow the rules. You know full well that a new one has been added regarding cleaning up after yourself. There is also a rule about respect that you've been disobeying as I understand it the entire time that you've been here. Now I have a breaking point, and my mother always said that my fuse was short. So we're going to deal with this right here and now so that hopefully we won't have to deal with it later on today, when you are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at my house helping me to unpack</i>," he emphasized.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I already told you! I don't want to go and help you with your stupid unpacking!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> snapped.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Before she could react, Peter had <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> hauled over the arm of the easy chair she'd been sitting in. With some effort, he yanked down her jeans, a low growl in his throat as he did so. Quickly they were followed by her panties, and this time Peter pulled both all the way down to her ankles. His purpose wasn't to humiliate her, though he knew that a spanking from a man would have that effect on a ten year-old. He also didn't intend to really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hurt</i> her, though he knew the pain of a spanking would do her a great deal of good. "Since the last spanking I gave you was so ineffective, Peter said, "we'll see if another warming doesn't do the trick to convince you that I'm in charge here, and not you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter's hand came down rapid fire on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s bottom, his hand smacking down hard against her bare flesh. There was still a reminder of the spanking from four days previously, a little hint of red that told Peter he had, in fact, left bruises on the child's bottom. He was spanking hard and furiously, and not saying a word as Lizzie's legs kicked out behind her and she began to wail. Behind him, he could sense the presence of Becky, but he kept going on with the spanking, not letting up at all. He was determined to make an impression on the girl, and not even aware that he was making the wrong one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">When Peter had to pause to catch his breath, Becky spoke up. He didn't turn, but he could smell coffee, and Peter suspected that she had a cup for him as well. "I think you two have gotten off to the wrong start," she said with despair in her voice. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way." Then her presence left the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie was sobbing hard, and when Peter's attention was diverted, she scrambled into the chair and curled up tightly. She'd kicked off her pants and panties in the fight, and now she peered at Peter with wide, unhappy eyes. Peter shook his head and then pointed a finger at her. "Get your clothes fixed and come into the kitchen. Rinse your plate and put it into the dishwasher. You can do that much at least."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">With that, and not knowing what else to do, Peter simply picked up the cup of coffee that Becky had left on the table and went back to the kitchen to talk to Becky. She was in the kitchen, scrubbing the rest of the dishes from breakfast. When he entered, she turned over her shoulder to give him a glance, and he shrugged, sitting down at the table with his coffee and drinking it black, just the way he liked it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"This isn't... her," Becky said, her voice sad as she turned from the sink and put her hands on her hips, watching Peter. "You two have really gotten off to a bad start and I feel as though there's something I should be doing."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"She was humiliated when I walked in on her spanking that first time I came out here," Peter shrugged. "She's acting out because of that, no doubt." He shrugged. "You could try to talk to her about it, but it would probably only make the situation worse. Just let it work itself out."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You also changed the rules on her," Becky said pointedly, tossing the blame ball back into his court.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter's mouth set in a grim line as he looked at the young auburn-haired woman. "No. I didn't change the rules. I told her to do something and she refused. She suffered the consequences of disobeying me, and then the rules were changed. Don't take responsibility off of her, Becky. That isn't fair. It isn't fair to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i>."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"No," Becky said thoughtfully. "Maybe not. But it's going to be hard for you to get to know her if you're constantly laying down the law. She's not going to want to come within ten feet of you if every time she sees you she winds up bottom's up."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter sighed and took a sip of his cooling coffee. "No," he said. "Perhaps not. But I don't see what I'm supposed to do. Just let the rules slide, because she doesn't know me so well?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Becky watched Peter for a long time, and he began to feel uncomfortable. He shifted, then guzzled the last of his coffee and took the cup to the sink, giving Becky a gentle bump of his hip to move her out of the way so that he could rinse the cup out. He was about to put it in the dishwasher when he heard that it was running. He'd started it himself. Exasperated, Peter began to run the sink full of hot, soapy water. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> can wash her dishes by hand. It's a fair punishment for her insolence," he growled as he washed out his mug and put it on the draining rack to dry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">When he turned back toward her, Becky had <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> tucked up in her arms. The child was still sobbing, and Peter felt his heart sink immediately. He'd been too angry, and he'd dealt with her too harshly. He could see that immediately. Just the way that she sought comfort from Becky made him feel terrible, and he wanted to reach out to the little girl but even as he began to do so, Becky shook her head with a stern expression on her face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Lizzie," the woman said, gently guiding the little girl away from her so she could look into her face. "I want you to do what Mr. Peter asks you to do. Right now you need to pick up your plate and wash it in the sink, then put it on the draining rack. You know how to do that, don't you?" Becky asked. Her tone was much more gentle than Peter's had been, and he found himself kicking himself for being too harsh.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little girl looked over at Peter, her eyes puffy and red from crying, and nodded her head. He couldn't determine what the expression on her face meant, so he simply moved out of her way so that she could get to the sink and take care of her dishes from breakfast. It was going to be a long day; Peter was sure of it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Two hours later, Peter was standing in front of the stove in number seven. No work had gotten done, but at least <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> wasn't sulking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">badly. He'd told her upon their arrival at his new home that she could spend some time reading only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">after</i> she'd done the tasks that he had set out for her. There had been a tantrum, with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> upset because Becky had allegedly told her that she would never use books as a punishment; that she would never take them away. Trying to be patient, Peter had explained that he wasn't taking the books away and that he wasn't punishing her. He was showing her the necessity of prioritizing your tasks. It hadn't gone especially well until he pointed out that Becky didn't take a night off unless she knew that Lizzie was settled in, had eaten, and was taken care of. The same went with the horses. She didn't ride unless the horses had been fed and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had been given her breakfast. He even used himself as an example until Lizzie was either tired of listening or understood the point and let up on him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter had been very relieved when that moment had finally come. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Now they weren't fighting, but they weren't speaking, either. No work had been done, and noon had come and gone. Hungry, Peter had headed into the kitchen to work on fixing something up for lunch. He would have just slapped together a sandwich with cold cuts if he'd been alone, but he thought that Lizzie might enjoy a hot lunch, and he had some tomato soup and the fixings for grilled ham and cheese sandwiches in the fridge. That much he could manage. He turned the griddle on and buttered the bread before poking his head out of the kitchen to check to make sure that Lizzie wasn't reading a book. Since she hadn't brought one with her, it seemed rather impossible that she could be reading. Of course, she wasn't. She was sitting on the living room couch seemingly staring off into space. Peter could tell she was crying again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Standing in the kitchen doorway, Peter faltered on what he should do. His instinct told him to go and give the little girl a hug, and to hold her for as long as she needed to be held. Common sense told him that if he didn't get back to lunch, something was going to burn. Sighing, Peter went over to where Lizzie was sitting and put his hand heavily on her shoulder. "Come on into the kitchen," he said, wording it carefully so that she would know he wasn't making a suggestion. "I'm not much of a cook, but you're ten years old and it's plenty time you learned how to throw together a grilled ham and cheese sandwich."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"I'm not hungry," the ten year old said. There was no sass, and no real emotion in her voice at all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter didn't know anything about the food issues that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had already shown, and her apparent lack of appetite meant nothing to him in terms of her emotional state. He only shrugged and turned back toward the kitchen. "There's no reason you can't learn. Come on."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He headed back into the kitchen and made the sandwiches up, dropping two of them onto the griddle. Peter figured that if Lizzie didn't want one, he could easily eat two of them. He opened the can of soup and slowly poured it into the pot on the stove.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"So... What?" came a voice from behind him, a hint of curiosity tinged around the edges. "You just make the sandwiches and stick them on there?" When Peter glanced over Lizzie was poking at one of the sandwiches with her finger, and then she looked over at him. He felt a silent wave of relief at the thought that perhaps she was willing to try to relax a little bit and give him a chance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he glanced over at Lizzie. "Yeah. You just butter the bread, build the sandwiches, and then throw them on the griddle. You sure you don't want one? You could make it yourself."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little girl looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shook her head, poking the sandwiches again. Peter pulled a spatula out of the drawer and handed it to her. "They're about ready to flip," he said. "I'm going to finish off this soup. You really ought to eat something." He wasn't pressuring her, in large part because he didn't think that there was any reason to. Even so, Lizzie didn't put together a sandwich of her own, but sat down at the kitchen table.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter glanced over at the little girl. He wasn't sure what he should say to her, so he kept his thoughts to himself. When the food was ready, he took it to the table and sat down with it, eating slowly. He didn't know Lizzie well, but it seemed that she was awfully quiet, and what he wanted most was to draw her out of her shell and to get her to talk to him. It didn't seem normal to him that a child -- particularly a girl child -- would be so quiet all of the time. Whenever he saw her she seemed to have her nose stuck in a book, or she was sleeping with a book, or she just plain wasn't talking. He could see that she'd opened herself to Becky, so why should it be any different for him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"So..." Peter said, trying to start conversation flowing. "What do you think of this place?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The little girl just shrugged. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter waited for a moment, hoping that she would say something, but when no words came he felt a heat rising to his cheeks. He wasn't sure, yet, whether he felt more anger or humiliation, but he swallowed it back and took another bite of his sandwich. Lizzie was staring out the sliding glass door at the outside, where the trees were now fully green and the warmth was just on the edge of where it would become oppressive. Peter followed her gaze and caught sight of a doe with her fawn. He couldn't help but smile, and he was about to say something when Lizzie turned back to him, her eyes blazing once again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Shocked by the suddenness of the child's anger, Peter flinched. "Well," he said. "I like it just fine. My house is beautiful, the home where you live is well suited to take care of youngsters like you. I guess if I was in your shoes, I just wouldn't fight the system. You're acting too stuck up," he said, pushing away from the table to take his plates to the sink. He hadn't finished, and he tossed half of his uneaten sandwich into the garbage before rinsing the plates and putting them in the dish washer. "A little ungrateful, I think."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"What's there to be grateful for?" the little girl fumed at Peter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">He could feel the tension coming off of her, and when he turned his head to look, her hands were balled up into tight, angry fists. Peter's eyebrows rose and he reached up to run a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "What's there to be grateful for? Hmm... Let's see... Food in your belly... A roof over your head... All the books that Becky lets you read... Those all seem like plenty good reasons to be grateful to me."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;"> rolled her eyes, and Peter had to clench his teeth. It was a disrespectful gesture that he absolutely abhorred. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alright</i>, he thought to himself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Obviously this isn't going to be an easy conversation</i>. He'd left the paddle at the children's home, which meant that if things went in the direction he suspected they were going to go, he was going to have to find another way to handle the situation. Almost without thinking, his hand went to his waist, testing to see if there was a belt there. He thought he would never use it on a child, but the knowledge that he was wearing one was somehow comforting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"You don't argue like this with Becky."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"So?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter's jaw set in a grim line, and he closed his eyes, trying to decide whether or not they should proceed at all. He'd been hoping to give Becky some kind of a break from taking care of Elizabeth, who clearly could be quite difficult. She'd been working so hard since the beginning that Peter thought she deserved a day off here and again. He hadn't imagined that things would go this badly. Not in a million years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Okay," Peter said after a moment. "Clearly this isn't going well. I get that you don't like me very much, but I also get that there's nothing I can do to change that. So how about we get to work on unpacking these boxes, and then we can go back to the home, have dinner, and you can spend the evening in your library, reading."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"She said she'd never use my books as a punishment." The child wasn't moving to come into the living room and help with those last few boxes, but was standing near the table with her hands on her hips, an angry expression on her face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well?" Peter asked, not understanding what the issue was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Lizzie stomped her foot in clear aggravation. "Well! You said I couldn't read until my chores were done!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Confused, Peter cocked his head and raised one eyebrow at the young girl. "And...? Your point is?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">I clear exasperation Lizzie threw her hands up. "My point is that you're taking my books away for not helping you!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Okay," Peter said, reaching out and taking Lizzie's hand. He'd about had it with her behavior, and now he walked over to the couch in the living room and sat her down on it, putting himself on the coffee table and looking at her squarely. "Here's the deal. It is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">normal</i> for kids to have chores to do. It is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">normal</i> for you to be required to help out around the house, with cleaning up after yourself or with coming over here to help me out. I'm not punishing you. I'm trying to help you learn how to manage your time and to prioritize. If you were in school right now, what would come first, your reading time or your schoolwork?" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter didn't know he'd just stepped on a land mine, of course. He'd wind up talking to Becky about that later on, and it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation when it happened. It would involve a lot of raised voices and threats to leave. It would not be pretty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Well, I won't have any more homework to do now, will I?" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> spat at Peter. She didn't make to stand up, but he could see that her hands were clenched tightly on her knees. He wasn't sure whether what he was seeing was anger or desperation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Oh?" Peter asked, his voice edged with tense anger. "And why is that?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Because I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">expelled!</i>" Lizzie yelled, pushing up out of her seat and making a rush for the door. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter caught up with the ten year old double-quick, his arm gripping her around her waist. "Well then!" he said, perhaps a bit too harshly. "I can't say I'm surprised to hear that, but it's beside the point! I want an answer to the question, young lady. What would you do first if you had homework? Reading time, or homework?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">"Homework!" Lizzie shrieked, struggling to pull her way out of his grip. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Peter had no idea why the little girl was fighting him so hard, and he quickly let her go. "That's enough," Peter said, his voice firm. "If I hadn't been spanked myself growing up I'd think you liked it," he said, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her back toward the kitchen. Still holding onto her, he began to dig around in the drawer until he came up with a wooden spatula. He was almost sneering as he turned on Lizzie and plopped down in the kitchen chair, quickly putting his hands on the waistband of her jeans and tugging them down to her ankles for the second time that day. "It's clear to me that nothing good is going to come out of our relationship with one another, but by God, Elizabeth Moore, I will teach you how a proper lady behaves!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Without another word, Peter yanked down Lizzie's jeans. Since the girl wasn't fighting him, it was easy enough to make her panties go south along with the jeans. Almost instantly he had her positioned over his left knee, her legs pinned behind his right. There was still a pink tinge to her bottom from the earlier spanking, but Peter paid it no mind as he picked up the spatula. Tapping her bottom with it, Peter said, "You aren't going to speak to me that way, or to Ms. Becky. I expect a full apology and one for Becky as well. You make her look bad when you act like an uncontrolled brat."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">They were words like what his mother would have used when he was growing up, and it never occurred to Peter that the words might sting the little ten year old girl more than they had stung him at her age. He also didn't stop to think that perhaps words like that had hurt him more growing up than he cared to realize. Right now Peter was very upset, and he didn't have the compassion -- yet -- to understand that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Instead, Peter set to work without a word. The wooden spatula smacked hard first against <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s right cheek, then her left. He went back and forth like that, working more quickly than he had with the paddle, but using a good deal of force. When the child started to squirm, he tucked her body up tighter against his own and kept on with what he'd been doing. Her bottom came up a brighter pink almost immediately, and then Peter really laid on the force. The house was silent other than the sounds of the spanking, the steady cracking sound of the spatula against bare flesh and the squeals of a child who was trying very hard not to cry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">It took nearly four minutes before Peter wound down and tossed the spatula aside. "Come on," he said to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "Straighten your clothes and I'll take you back to Becky. We're done here. Obviously."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">Sobbing, the ten year-old tumbled off of Peter's lap and painfully pulled up her panties and jeans. Peter could see from the expression on her face that it hurt her a great deal to do. Then she stood in front of him, her eyes and nose running, while he stood up, took her tightly by the upper arm, and marched her out of the house. There was still some anger left, and he was going to make sure that Becky knew what he thought of the lack of discipline that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> had displayed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">The unhappy pair were halfway back to the children's home when Becky came rushing up to them. "There's someone coming!" she cried, and her face was bright with excitement. Even as Peter realized that she registered their misery, her own happiness didn't fade. "We have another arrival, and he should be here in less than an hour. Lizzie, get into the house and wash your face. Peter, if you would meet me in the great room so I can brief you, that would be terrific!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">There was a brief pause, and then Becky went on: "I don't know what happened between the two of you this time, and I'm not in the mood to hear it. We'll talk about it later," she said, giving <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> a quick squeeze and then gesturing for them to head back to the home ahead of her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia"; font-size: 10pt;">(To Be Continued....)</span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-13617637123130761342010-07-17T20:10:00.000-07:002010-07-17T20:22:43.400-07:00Foster Forest (5): New Rule<div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"></div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">The apprehension had been building for several days. Although he couldn't quite identify why he felt that way, Peter Grisson knew that he should treat the apprehension as a warning bell. He'd made a serious decision that would change his life, perhaps forever. He liked kids: that wasn't the problem. And he knew that he was capable of performing the duties that had been outlined to him by Becky Thomas. He even thought he'd make a good father, or a good father "figure" to the kids she was helping. Indeed, he felt that he'd fit in just fine at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Foster</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>. He knew and appreciated how Becky Thomas used discipline on her only current charge, and he felt confident that he'd be able to do the same.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">In fact, Peter had the little paddle that his mother had handed over to him when he'd finally reached adulthood. He had terrible memories of that paddle, being bent over his mother's lap. It was roughly eight inches long by six inches wide and relatively small. There were several holes drilled into the wood of the paddle, causing it to cut the air resistance when it was used properly. The paddle stung like crazy, and had been known to leave blisters if not used carefully and thoughtfully. Although Peter had never given a spanking in his life, he'd been on the receiving end of the dreadful implement enough times that he would certainly be able to use it appropriately.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter took his time on the drive. He was aware of the sense that he might turn back and head for home. He'd hired a house sitter, at least for as long as it took him to determine that he would be able to settle in at the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>. It hurt a little bit to leave the tidy house behind, but he had forced himself to look forward. Now he was driving down the Interstate, trying to convince himself that the road was familiar. He had already committed it to memory before he'd made the trip the first time, though once he was off the main roads, the territory was still frighteningly foreign. Peter Grisson wasn't a country boy at heart.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">The car tires crunched on the gravel as he drove up in front of the big building that was the children's home. He took a deep breath, his blue eyes staring straight ahead as he mentally prepared himself for this step of the journey. He liked Becky Thomas. She was beautiful, though that wasn't saying much: Peter Grisson thought most women were beautiful. However, the young woman had struck something in him that he hadn't expected to find. Although she wasn't the type of woman he normally "ran with," he thought he could come to enjoy her company.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Okay," Peter said to himself. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was nothing more he could do to prepare himself, so now he pushed his way out of the car and went around to the back to grab the two suitcases he'd packed. The rest of his "things" (the things he would need for his art) had been shipped ahead and should already be in his room. He'd set those up later the way that he liked. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Setting the cases down near the front door of the home, Peter raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it. He'd let himself right in the last time, when he'd had less right to be there. Now he was, technically, an employee of the... organization. That was the only way that he could think about it. He squared his shoulders and turned the knob, poking his head around the door to make sure that he wasn't interrupting anything as he had when he'd been a visitor here. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Instead, Becky Thomas was behind the reception desk, and little Miss Moore was nowhere to be found. Breathing a sigh of relief, Peter slipped into the building, leaving his bags on the porch. He'd take them with him into the house he'd chosen to buy from Becky (at cost) later on. He'd want to have a few things in the apartment here, as well. There would be night's he planned to stay over to help take care of the kids, though right not it was only <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> and Peter figured that she and Becky had a regular routine already. They must have a routine that didn't involve him. It would be awkward trying to get settled in, but he'd make it happen.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Peter," Becky said softly with a genuine smile for him. Her red hair was pulled back into a Dutch braid, and Peter couldn't help but be disappointed that the auburn tresses weren't falling halfway down their back where he felt they belonged. For a moment he just stood, admiring her, and then when she gave him a questioning look he stepped forward, through the front door and up to the desk. He'd already done all the paperwork, most of it in person but some of it had been faxed over. It was all official, and he shouldn't have been nervous, but there was anxiety in the pit of his stomach.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Where's <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>?" he asked, looking around, surprised that the little girl hadn't come out to greet him.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"She's in the little library we have here, reading a book," Becky said, though there was something in her eyes that told Peter she was disturbed, or angry about something. She opened her mouth as though she was about to say something, but then clamped it shut again and shook her head, biting the words off before they could be spoken.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Okay..." Peter said slowly. The silence didn't bother him, though he felt that there was some room for her to explain what was going on, and what she needed him to do. He'd planned on getting started right away, and in fact had the impression from Becky that's what she'd wanted, too. When the woman said nothing, but instead seemed to be staring off outside the windows, Peter first turned to see if there was something interesting out there, and then turned back to her. "Becky? What do you need me to do?"</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">The redhead glanced at the clock on the wall, and then back to Peter. "I have dinner in the oven. Right after dinner I have a meeting that I'm needed at, and I was hoping to take the night off." Since she didn't mention a date, Peter had to assume that's where she was really going, and something inside him cracked, just a little bit. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter gave a small nod. "So you need me to stay here. Overnight." </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Yes," Becky said, slowly stepping out from behind the counter. "There's the apartment here that I told you about. I have one and there's a second. Do you want me to... Show you?" she asked.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter could sense weariness in the young woman, but he said nothing. Instead he simply nodded his head and allowed himself to be led to the back of the building. Too late, he thought of his bags. He turned as though to go back for them, then shrugged and changed his mind. He could get them later, and they were in front of a door. Becky slid a key into the lock, pushed the door open, and then stood aside to allow him to get a good look at the room.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Stepping inside, Peter was shocked by the size of the main room. It was comfortable, like a full rental apartment. He could see a small kitchen through the living room, and three doors which he imagined to be a bathroom and... "Two bedrooms?" he asked, turning toward the woman who, for now, he thought of as his hostess. He'd need to get over that sooner rather than later.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Yes," Becky said. "I had this place built under the assumption that eventually there would be workers who came in with children of their own. Or that someone might choose to adopt one of our kids, and might prefer to keep them close, rather than have them go back to a room in the home." The young redhead shrugged her shoulders and Peter nodded to her with understanding. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Okay," Peter said. "I have a couple of bags, everything else should have been delivered to number 7." <br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Yes. And it's all been taken inside. I didn't have anything put away because I didn't know where you would want it, but it's all there. And the house is prepared to be decorated whenever you're ready. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter smiled and reached out to touch her hand. It was an old habit he'd never quite been able to let go of. "It's fine," he told her, then impulsively bent to kiss her cheek. "Why don't you and Elizabeth get your dinner and I'll unpack my bags in here. I take it that this is... My apartment, for the nights I'm here?" he asked. He'd seen three doors, and assumed that, at least for now, one would belong to each of the workers who worked the home. So far it was only him and Becky, so there were no other apartments needed. The few things he had in his bags could stay here; the rest would stay at number 7. That way he wouldn't have to pack a bag for his night shifts.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Still looking dazed, Becky looked at Peter, her green eyes focusing on him wearily for a long time. "Okay," she said. "You aren't hungry?"</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter shook his head. "No," he told her. "I already ate. Go ahead and take care of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> and then we'll... What, change shifts?"</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"At six o'clock," Becky said, and drifted away.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">***<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Six o'clock had come and gone. Peter had signed a slip taking over responsibility for Elizabeth, who was nowhere in sight, and had been briefed on bedtime, the routines, and when to expect Becky back (at six the next morning, which seemed terribly early for Peter, who intended to be in bed). Becky had instructed Peter that <st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city> would probably spend the rest of the evening in the library, and the blonde haired man got the impression that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> wasn't looking forward to meeting him formally. Probably she was still embarrassed about what had happened the first time that he had visited the house and had walked in on her being spanked by Becky. He couldn't blame her if that was it: he'd been in that situation himself several times as a child, and it wasn't something easily gotten over.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Not wanting to disturb the child if she didn't want to be disturbed, Peter cleaned the kitchen. The dishes had been put in the dishwasher, and now he emptied it, finding where everything went and putting it away. He scrubbed out the sink, wiped down the counters (twice!) and then found the mop and mopped the floor. Not satisfied, he scrubbed the base boards. All of this took him a little over an hour, and when he glanced at the clock, he realized that unless he kept cleaning, he had nothing to do for nearly two hours. Though it was still full light and he could feasibly paint if he was outside on the front porch, all of his painting things were stored at the house, and he hadn't been over there to find them yet. He'd unpacked while the other two had eaten supper, and he wasn't a reader. The television also held no appeal, and Peter wasn't going to leave the house alone with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> in it. That left him with one final option: to go and find the little girl.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter wasn't sure what to expect. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> may not want to see him, but the fact was that in an hour and a half he would need to begin the process of getting her to bed. They were going to have to meet at some point, and the meeting would need to take place that night. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Figuring that she was still in the library, Peter made his way in the direction that Becky had indicated earlier. She'd never given him a tour, and he felt somewhat at a loss now. Maybe <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> would be willing to show him around the home before bed. That, at least, would kill some of the empty time. He would need to bring a sketch pad with him next time so that he could work on his ideas. He preferred to paint, but every now and again he's sketch something out on paper before he put a brush to canvas. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Maybe if he had a day shift he'd take <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> to a museum. He'd like that. It didn't occur to her that it might not be her style.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">It took a moment, but Peter finally found the private library in the children's home. He raised his hand as though to knock on the door jamb, but he froze in place when he saw what was inside. Everywhere there were books. Not just on the shelves, but several books strewn across the floor; a stack of at least a half a dozen on a table. In a chair there was a pile of books that looked as though they had been haphazardly laid there, and in the middle of all of it was a ten year old girl who seemed to be absorbed in a Nancy Drew Mystery.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">For a moment, Peter only stood there in the doorway. The anger was bubbling up in him, and he had to swallow a sound of rage. He wasn't sure what Becky would feel if she saw the mess he was looking at, but he was an incredibly clean and tidy person. This mess was more than Peter could handle, and instinct told him to turn and walk away. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Fuming, Peter paced up and down the hall where the library was. As best he could tell, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> hadn't known that he was there. She hadn't looked up from her book, and the expression on her face hadn't changed. It would be hard for her to hide it if she was simply avoiding his gaze. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what the rules were that Becky had stated. He was sure that she'd said something about picking up after yourself, but he couldn't remember the exact rule. Worse, he didn't know where there was a list of them written down, so that he could reference it. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Finally deciding that it didn't matter, Peter committed to changing the rules of necessary to reflect the need for tidiness. He would either need to quit, or something was going to need to change.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter hadn't realized that he had the paddle in his hand until he was marching back toward the library. The cold wood was hard against his hand, and suddenly his footsteps slowed. What did he think he was going to do? The man stopped short, his free hand brushing against a sideboard that was in the hallway. Quickly he put the paddle down on it. He didn't want to approach <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> as someone who was frightening, and if she did as he was about to ask her, there was no need for any problems. All she had to do was clean up the library, brush her teeth, get on her pajamas, and go to bed. No need to punish if it went down just like that. Bedtime might be delayed, but compared to keeping the library in a mess, Peter didn't have a problem with that.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Taking a deep breath, Peter ran his hand back through his shaggy blonde hair and stepped into the library. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," he said, trying to keep his voice even, though he could still detect the hint of irritation. "It's nearly bedtime," he said, once he knew he had her attention. "I need you to have all of these books picked up and back on the shelves in a half an hour so that you can get ready for bed. If you aren't willing to do that, you can come out and see me in the great room. I'll be in front of the fireplace."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter turned on his heels and stepped out of the library, only going back for the paddle before moving into the Great Hall and flopping down on the couch. There was no fire in the fireplace this time of year. It was quite warm now, but he suspected it would be lovely in the autumn and winter, to be able to curl up here and share a cup of cocoa with people he hoped he'd come to care about by then. He lay his head back against the back of the couch, relaxing against the deep cushioning, and closed his eyes. In spite of everything, Peter Grisson was a romantic.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Becky doesn't make me pick up the library," came the voice of a ten year old. He could hear the scowl even before he opened his eyes and looked over at her without lifting his head. "She doesn't care what I do in there. That's my room, so I do what I want."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter raised his head slowly and regarded the child calmly. Now that he wasn't having to look at the state of the library, he had calmed down quite a bit. He considered himself absolutely prepared for what came next, however unpleasant it may be. The truth was that Peter wasn't surprised by <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s decision. It was obvious to him that she didn't know what her decision had been, though hadn't he set it up to be that way? While Peter didn't want to think of what he had done as entrapment, he had put her in a position to either obey and respect him, or not. And if not, then to accept the consequences. Whether or not Becky cared about the condition of the library, he was sure that obedience was an important issue to her. If not, then they were going to have some problems.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">For a long moment, Peter only stared at the little girl. Then he finally nodded. "Alright. We'll discuss this rationally," he said, more to himself than to her. Deep down he was still hoping that he wouldn't have to follow through with the paddle that he'd picked up on instinct. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">When <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight onto one hip, a stance typical of an insolent adolescent, Peter almost smiled. He bit it back and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he formulated his thoughts. "First of all," Peter said, checking to make sure that the ten year-old was within his reach so that he could get a hold of her if she tried to run once she knew his intentions. She was. "First of all, the library belongs to Ms. Becky and to this home. You aren't the only person who lives here or who will want to use that library from time to time."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">The ten year old shrugged, and Peter pressed onward. "I, for one, do not like a mess. If I felt inclined to use the library, I would have to go through the process of cleaning it up myself before I used it." Peter paused for a moment, looking at the little girl to see whether or not any of his words were sinking in. She had an expression on her face that he was sure was intended to irritate him and to show him how little she really cared about his comfort.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter sighed heavily and nodded his head. "Okay, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. I'm going to say this differently this time. I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Go and clean up the library so that you can get ready for bed. Now."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"No," the ten year-old said. She spoke in a clear voice that pushed a button Peter hadn't even known he'd had.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Before he could think, Peter's left hand shot out and his hand wrapped around <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s right wrist. Her arms had been crossed over her chest, and she stiffened in surprise once his hand was on her. It made it easier for Peter to topple the ten year old down over his lap. Although he was right handed, and this put him in a left handed spanking position, he thought he knew a solution to that. It was a rather painful solution for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, but this was a lesson that she was going to have to learn sooner rather than later. Awkwardly, he tugged her jeans down with his left hand. He had to shift his leg a little bit so that the denim would come down, and then he began to work on her panties. By that point Elizabeth was grinding against his lap, trying to keep him from getting the angle that he needed. A quick, hard slap of his left hand to her panty-clad bottom did the trick, however, and the panties came down around her knees along with her jeans. Scrabbling, Peter grabbed the little wooden paddle with his right hand and got a better grip on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> with his left. He pulled her tightly in to his body, leaning forward slightly and giving her a shove to the right. Once she was in the position he wanted -- with her bottom high up over his right thigh -- he pinned her legs under his left leg and made a grab for her left hand, pinning in to her lower back. This put him in the perfect position to paddle her sit spots until she wouldn't sit down comfortably for at least the next two days. And that's what he intended to do.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Without another word from Peter, and in spite of <st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city>'s cries, he picked up the little paddle in his right hand and, crossing it over his left (which was pinning <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> down), he brought it down hard on her left cheek. The effect was that he was using the paddle length wise so that the spank was longer but narrower. Because of the position, the paddle caught only against the tender crease where bottom and thighs meet. The sweet spot that so many spankers referred to as "the sit spot" or "the spank spot."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">A howl of pain ripped through <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, and Peter forced himself not to focus on the dark pink spot that the paddle left on the first spank. Instead, he repeated the measure on the right side. He spanked silently and slowly, first one side, then the other, leaving three or four seconds between spanks so that the burn could really get deep before he repeated the action. He didn't spank hard because he knew the paddle he was using. Instead, he used sharp flicks of his wrist to get the best results. He wouldn't leave any bruises, and he was careful not to blister, but still the sting would last, and he knew that as heavy as the paddle was (in spite of its small size) the deep pain would last for days.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">It took less than a minute before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was crying. Still she continued to wrestle with Peter's left arm over his lap. He was strong, but she was angry, confused, and in pain, and once she nearly broke his grip on her. The tears and snot were flowing everywhere, and Peter gritted his teeth. He had always hated to see a woman cry, and what was a little girl but a future woman? Squaring his shoulders, Peter put the paddle down and gave himself, and Elizabeth, a rest. He didn't let her up, and didn't loosen his grip on her at all. The break was one he knew from his childhood, and he'd learned later on that it was the moment that his mother had taken to assess the situation, to determine whether or not he was truly sorry for what he had done. She'd always been a talker, and even now Peter could remember hating to hear her talk during a spanking. It just seemed as though it went on and on, with her lecturing him in words he could barely hear, let alone understand when he was draped over her lap and being paddled.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Now <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was crying. But her body was tense, and she said nothing. She sobbed occasionally, trying to catch a breath that she didn't seem to realize she'd been holding. There were no apologies, and though she made no attempt to get up, Peter was convinced that there was an anger, or even a hatred, coming off of the ten year-old little girl. Peter sighed heavily, his breath "wooshing" out of him and nodded his head unhappily. "Okay," he said, almost to himself. "Okay." That word seemed to be a signal to Elizabeth, who started to get up. Quickly Peter wrapped his arm more tightly around her waist. "No you don't," he said. "We aren't nearly done here."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Shifting awkwardly, Peter moved until the little girl was secured not by his left arm but by his right. Her bottom was still over his right leg, and there was a bit of awkwardness as he made himself comfortable. He knew that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was only about to get a good deal less comfortable. He didn't have the heart to keep going with the paddle, and he wondered if he hadn't already risked bruising as he examined the flesh of her backside. Instead, he would give her a hand spanking, on her bare bottom -- with his weak hand.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">It was more of a token, and Peter knew that. Once or twice his mother had done the same, and the spanking had always been a relief after the paddle. He spanked as hard as his left hand would allow him, but with some awkwardness, and it set the girl to squirming again. Still, Peter didn't speak. He would keep this going -- and could keep this going -- until she was ready for it to stop. Once her body began to let go of its tension, and her mind began to let go of that anger and hatred, then she would be ready to go up to her room, brush her teeth and get her pajamas on.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Spanking hard and vigorously, Peter realized that he was, himself, becoming tired. He couldn't believe the resilience that the little girl had as she continued to fight against his punishment. He was beginning to breath heavily, and she was sobbing, but still fighting him. "<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>!" Peter said finally, his voice sharp and edged with anger as his palm continued to smack down, much more firmly than he had with the paddle, against the child's bared bottom. "You can end this right here and now if you would just admit you did wrong!" he snapped. It was unfair, and Peter knew it. He'd never outlined the rules of receiving a spanking from him. And even as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the girl let out a huge gasping sob.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter didn't stop spanking. His hand continued to smack down, even though his palm was beginning to get sore and his arm tired. He was not, after all, left handed. Just when Peter was about to switch his hands again, preparing to pin <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> with his left arm and pick up the paddle again, she let out a muffled, "'m sorry." Peter paused, still entirely prepared to go through with continuing the paddling. But <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> went entirely limp over his lap, sobbing so hard that Peter thought his own heart would break. He did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> like to see a woman crying!</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Slowly Peter Lowered his left hand to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s back. His right hand loosened its grip around her waist, and he realized immediately that it had been a mistake. The little girl skittered off of his lap as soon as he released her, scrambling back to press against the fireplace. Though she winced, her blazing bottom wasn't pressed against anything. Her eyes, however, flashed with anger, the edges looking almost yellow as she glared at him. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Completely at a loss, Peter leaned forward, trying to think of what he should do. Instinctively he got up, moved around the coffee table and took the child's hand. He could tell that her skin was crawling and he wasn't sure if what she felt was fear or disgust. Peter was shocked, and for a moment he nearly dropped her hand. It wasn't supposed to go like this. He knew that Becky put the child in the corner after the spanking he'd witnessed, but that just wasn't his way. Sighing, Peter turned the girl around and bent to help her back into her panties. He winced, his breath hissing out as he pulled them up over her blazing backside, and then pulled her jeans up over them. Gently the man put a hand on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulder and slowly turned her around. With both hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes examined her brown ones, looking to find out what she was feeling. He could still see the heat of anger there, but he didn't have the heart to keep spanking her. They didn't have a relationship with one another. At least not yet.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter sighed, his breath going out slowly. A small nod of his head, and he let go of her shoulders. "I'm not going to make you stand in the corner, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," he said. The little girl was still sobbing, and her arms went across her chest defensively, her eyes lowering to stare at the floor while her new guardian spoke. "I'd love to offer you a hug, but since you seem so angry, I suggest that you just show me where your room is so that I know, and then get ready for bed. We'll talk more about this in the morning."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">The little girl let out a sob and shook her head. "I don't want another one!" she cried. </div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">For a moment, Peter could only stare at her, not comprehending. "Another one... Oh!" he said, then shook his head. "No honey, you aren't gonna <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>get another one," he said, this time putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in to him for a tight hug. Though she stiffened, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> didn't pull away, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Come on," he said. "Show me your room and we'll get you into bed. We'll talk more about keeping the library and the rest of the house tidy tomorrow, before I leave to get settled into my own house," he added. "And no. No more spanking."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she pulled away from Peter and started for the stairs. He could tell that there was something on the girl's mind, but she said nothing, and he didn't press the issue. Instead he sighed, and followed her up the stairs. He'd never gotten the tour.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">***</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p></o:p></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">The next morning Peter woke up late. The sun was already high when he rolled out of bed and made his way wearily into the kitchen of the little apartment. He'd spent the previous night cleaning up the library and sorting the books alphabetically on the shelves. He wasn't quite satisfied: he thought there were better ways to make the books look even tidier, but he'd work that out later. He'd left a note for Becky, telling her what had happened the previous<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>night and letting her know that he would want to have a talk with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> that morning.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Once he was decent, Peter wandered out of the apartment and first poked his head into the library to see if <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was there. She wasn't, and Peter frowned. It was going on eleven o'clock, and it seemed to him that it was too late to find the pair in the kitchen. Peter tugged at the sleeve of his T-Shirt and headed that way anyway. Becky was, indeed, there.</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Hey," she said, turning over her shoulder to look at him. "I'm sorry that Lizzie gave you a problem last night," she said quickly. "She's... difficult. I would say that she was testing your authority, but I'm not so sure. I'd never talked to her about the mess in the library so I'd say that she just didn't know."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Where is she now?"</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"She's in her room," Becky answered. "She took her book up there this morning. I don't think that she wants to talk to you," she said with a shrug, then put a cup of coffee in front of him. He hadn't even seen her pour it. "Thanks for cleaning the kitchen last night," she said appreciatively. "It looks amazing."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter smiled and took a sip of his coffee, black and bitter. "I guess you've kind of figured out that I'm a neat freak, huh?"</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Becky made a face like a grimace and nodded her head. "I guess it's good though," she said. "Because that makes one of us." She grinned at him, and then slowly her smile faded. "Lizzie's pretty upset. I'm pretty sure she doesn't like you."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter sighed and nodded. "Well," he said. "You can't win them all. I think I'll take her over to my place to help me unpack, unless you have an objection. It'll give me a chance to get to know her under less unpleasant circumstances."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Becky laughed. "Good luck with that one, Peter," she said, and then winked. "I think she's 'allergic' to chores!"</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter raised his eyebrows at the young redheaded woman. "Oh really? I guess we'll just have to see about that," he said with determination. "By the way, I need to see a list of her rules and the tasks that she's supposed to be doing every day. Some of the confusion last night was because I didn't know what the rules are. I guess I'm pretty strict, especially when it comes to keeping things clean and tidy."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"I gathered that," Becky laughed. "There's actually a poster with the current rules up there on the wall," she said, gesturing to a hand written poster board that he hadn't seen the previous night. Her handwriting was neat and even. "I guess we'll have to add something about picking up after yourself," she said thoughtfully. "Though she did break rule number 1. Always do as you're told."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">Peter nodded and chugged his coffee, then went to the sink and rinsed it out, placing it in the dishwasher. "I'm going to go ask her to go over with me," he said. He glanced at Becky. "And I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal">"Good luck," Becky chuckled, shaking her head at Peter.</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-83539990764880626372010-05-16T20:16:00.000-07:002010-05-17T07:29:00.184-07:00Foster Forest (4): Meeting Peter<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The house had been buzzing with an air of anticipation for the past three days. Becky had observed that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> was making herself scarce, and every time she'd checked, the ten year-old was in he room curled up with a book. The child had an easy, if anxious, smile for Becky whenever they met, and the conversation was finally beginning to flow easily at mealtimes. Becky knew that she was going to need to work out some chores for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> during the summer vacation from school. There was a lot to be done and she couldn't allow the little girl to idle. Wasn't that, after all, part of her purpose in building her home?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She'd had a bite. Not an application for a child, of course -- she had suspected that word would get out about <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s problems in school and that it might take quite some time before social workers were really comfortable sending more children to her. Instead she had received a very <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">interesting</i> application to assist from a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> wealthy local man. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">If it wasn't for his money, she would have been interested. If it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> for his money, she would have been interested. But he was not only talking about making a sizeable donation to her organization, he was talking about joining her staff.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></div><a name='more'></a><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> could do with having a strong male influence around. Becky realized that, and she recognized the importance of the masculine role model in a child's life, whether the child was male or female. Besides, having another grown up around would give Becky somebody to talk to, and to lean on when there was more work than she could handle by herself. Certainly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> man wasn't immune to hard work!</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She knew his story. Indeed, he was quite famous in the area. He'd come up from a working class family to become one of the most well-known artists in the modern time. Already Becky had an early-edition print of one of his paintings over the fireplace in the great room. And that had happened long before she had even imagined that he might be interested in coming to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">work</i> for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Beside that, he was a work of art himself. Although Peter Grisson tended to be somewhat on the slender side, it was leanness, rather than thinness. His shaggy blonde hair always seemed to look unkempt, but in a pretty way, and his brown eyes seemed to look right at her even from the photographs of him that she'd seen in the glossy magazines she'd picked up at the grocery store.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As a closet art lover, Becky Thomas was in love with Peter Grisson.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It was just an interview. She had to keep reminding herself that he might decide that he didn't want to work at the home, or that he didn't like her mission enough to even donate any of his money. Worse yet, he might not like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her.</i> She had to be prepared for the worst, even as she hoped for the very best. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky had tidied up the small apartment that she'd been occupying in the home for the past three months. Everything was there, from the small and tidy kitchen to two bedrooms. It was a proper little apartment where anyone who believed in her mission (and who had passed her tests) could stay overnight with the children who resided in the home. She would show it to Mr. Grisson, and if he liked it, she might show him one or two of the other cabins in the community. He could purchase any one of those at below market value and always be close to his work.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You know that this isn't a paid position, Mr. Grisson," Becky practiced as she set the table for breakfast that morning. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> stood nearby in a pair of blue jeans and a chambray shirt, and she rolled her eyes at her guardian as she went into the kitchen to grab the napkins and help. She didn't know what Becky was talking about, but it sounded silly enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> was glad to be done with school for the year. Becky had shielded her from the information that she probably wouldn't be attending another semester on a scholarship, so she was able to simply bask in the joy of being a kid in the summer south. She was spending more and more time sitting on the porch with a book, and that was how she liked it. That was just enough outdoors for her, and she was grateful that Becky hadn't tried to get her to take care of either of the horses yet. She wasn't ready for that, and she had no interest in learning to ride. The horses were big, and that scared her more than a little bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> had settled in so neatly that she had begun to think of the home as any other foster home. Though she'd been informed of the intentions in the beginning, she no longer saw the big cabin as a group home. It was only her and Becky, and she was slowly beginning to like it that way. Most of the tension that had been between them had begun to disintegrate since the incident at school, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> had even allowed herself to develop a feeling of affection for Becky.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The feeling was mutual. Although <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> didn't know it, and probably would have been embarrassed if she had, Becky crept to her room every night to watch her sleep. The woman, in spite of her youth, would never have a child of her own, and though she'd promised herself that she wouldn't get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> attached to any of the children who came through her doors, she was beginning to realize how difficult that would be.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As the food was placed on the table for breakfast, Becky reached out and gave <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulder a squeeze. She felt guilty about not telling the child that she had an interview today. Because the hiring of a new adult to the staff would change the dynamic of the home so profoundly, she didn't want to get <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s hopes up as far as her own were already. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something, and the ten year-old looked up at her expectantly, but Becky just sighed and shook her head, gesturing toward the plates of food, served family style. This morning Becky had served scrambled eggs with ham steaks and home fries. She preferred a good amount of protein at breakfast. They both had to keep their strength up, particularly on a big day like today.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Conversation over breakfast was quieter than usual. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> could sense the tension that Becky felt, and her guardian seemed thoughtful. It seemed more respectful for her to leave the woman to her thoughts, and she shifted slightly in her seat, momentarily wishing that she'd brought a book to the table. On days like this, Becky hardly seemed to notice the breach of the rules, and even when she did she only asked that Lizzie take the book off the table and put it away.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">In spite of the silence, breakfast wasn't uncomfortable. Becky's cooking skills were improving, even if she didn't enjoy the task, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was glad not to be eating cold cereal every morning for breakfast. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When she was done, the ten year-old gathered her plates, and Becky's, and took them out to the kitchen to be washed. Her guardian seemed to be somewhere in dream land, and she figured that it was better if she just went head and did the chore. If she didn't, there was a chance that Becky would get distracted and wouldn't get the job done. It was better to do the chore while it was still small instead of letting things pile up.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When the chore was done, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> wandered out of the kitchen. Becky was nowhere in sight, but that wasn't particularly unusual. There were chores to be done around the grounds, including caring for the horses and tending to the small garden that she kept for fresh vegetables, preventing the need to go to the store quite so often. There'd been some talk about chickens as well, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had tried to shy away from that. She wanted nothing to do with cleaning up after the mess. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> didn't mind the household chores, really. She'd been raised by her grandmother for the first seven years of her life, and taught to take care of things in a timely fashion. She wasn't a "neat freak" by any means, but it meant something to her to feel as though she had accomplished something. Having her own chores to do had always helped to make <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> feel like a member of a family, even when she wasn't.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She didn't care for the outdoor jobs, herself, and was grateful that Becky always had them done before she felt as though she was obligated to ask if there was anything she could do. Once the dishes were done most mornings she could just kick back with a book. Or if she wanted, she could watch some T.V. for a little bit. Becky never seemed to mind (or, for that matter, to notice).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">This morning was no different for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. Whatever was bothering Becky wasn't her concern. The woman had proven that time and time again. She headed into the small room that housed the library (two shelves, but Becky had promised more!). The area was cluttered, books strewn about the floor where <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had devoured some of the mid-grade books in an afternoon and discarded them. This was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> area of the cabin, the place where she went to be alone, and she didn't always think to clear up the mess. After all, Becky didn't seem to mind, and since she didn't do a lot of reading, she was rarely in this room.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Stooping, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> scooped up the next book on the list she'd kept running in her head. This time it was another Nancy Drew Mystery. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Secret of Shadow Ranch</i>. She tucked the book under her arm, silently wishing that Becky would bring in some more of the young adult novels that she loved, and headed out toward the porch. It was much too nice a day to sit inside and read. The sunlight would feel good as it filtered through the trees, not too hot, but comfortable, especially in the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> reached the door, she caught sight of Becky on the porch, pacing back and forth and speaking into her cell phone. The girl stopped dead in her tracks. There was a hint of agitation about her guardian, and she knew better than to get in Becky's way when the young woman was already upset. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The child hung back toward the reception desk, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other and struggling not to listen to what her guardian was saying into the phone. A couple of times she heard the woman refer to someone as "Da" and she could only figure that Becky was speaking to her father. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Still trying not to hear what was being said, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> set her book down and began to shuffle through the papers on the reception desk. Nothing sensitive was ever left here, since sometimes UPS or the postman let himself in and dropped off mail or an occasional package. Usually the junk mail got dropped here along with Becky's keys once she'd picked up the mail at the end of the very long drive. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Normally <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> would have just shuffled the papers around until Becky was off the phone and she could go out onto the porch without feeling as though she was invading her guardian's privacy. But today her school's logo on one of the envelopes caught her eye, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> frowned, picking it up in her hands. Before she knew what she was doing, the ten year-old was ripping the envelope open, tearing the paper out of it, and scanning the contents in quick alarm. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I can't go back to school?" <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> cried, storming through the front door and walking boldly up to her guardian, who was still talking animatedly into her phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky's eyes went wide, then her brow furrowed into a deep frown. Her mouth hung open for a moment, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> could hear the sound of a male voice with a rich accent saying "Rebecca? Rebecca Thomas, answer me! What's going on?" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Da, I'll call ya back," Becky said, her own voice more accented than usual when she was talking to her father. "I've got something to deal with, and then the interview.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She snapped her phone off before she had an opportunity to hear her father's wish of good luck, her green eyes glaring at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> deeply. Shaking her head, Becky reached out for the piece of paper that the ten year-old still held, and then quickly scanned it once it had been handed over. Her eyes darted to the top right hand corner of the page, noting that the letter was addressed to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> and not directly to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, and she frowned more deeply. "Where did you get this Elizabeth Marie?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Scowling, angry herself, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> gestured back toward the big desk. "It was on the desk. I saw the school thing and I wanted to know what it says. It says I can't come back next fall! They aren't giving me my scholarship because of what those stupid boys did to me. You said it wasn't my fault!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky's face was red, and she had to take several deep, calming breaths before she could trust herself to speak. "You opened mail that was addressed to me, Elizabeth? You were going through my papers?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Immediately <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s anger turned to apprehension. She couldn't remember a time that Becky had looked quite this furious. Perhaps part of it was nerves -- she knew that her guardian was nervous that day -- and maybe part of the problem was the fact that she'd interrupted what was obviously a very heated conversation with Becky's father. The situation was the perfect storm of disciplinary necessity. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I... Umm... I was waiting, cuz you were on the phone on the porch and I wanted... You know, to sit out there and read my book."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> no longer carried the Nancy Drew mystery with her. She'd dropped that on the desk when she'd opened the letter. The child pressed her lips together, realizing that things weren't looking good for her. "I didn't mean to snoop!" she said, suddenly agitated. "I was just waiting and it was there and I saw the label thing. I thought it was for me!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> could feel the deadly calm before she saw the expression come across her guardian's face. "So you didn't take a moment to see to whom the envelope was addressed -- you just went ahead and opened it?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> shifted from one foot to the other. Suddenly she had to pee. Her bladder felt weak, and she found it difficult to meet Becky's eyes, so she stared at one of the chains that held the porch swing up. "I guess... I guess not."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Go to your room and bring me the hairbrush. I want you to bring it right down to the great room. Go." Becky's voice was a deadly calm, the type of calm that always came before a storm. She had her anger barely in check as she glanced down at the note again. There was no need to see whether or not <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had obeyed her. Her tone of voice had left no room at all for disobedience. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The young woman scanned the letter for the third time, then shook her head with a sigh. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had read the letter correctly -- she wasn't receiving a renewal of her scholarship because of what had happened on the playground at the end of the school year. Of course the other incidents of misbehavior had also been quoted, but it was clear that the reason was her "disagreement" with the sixth grade boys.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Disgusted, Becky strode into the home and added the letter back into its envelope, gathered up the stack of other mail, and slipped it into a drawer. She locked the drawer and pocketed the key, shaking her head at the thought that this had become necessary. She'd trusted <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>, but that was about to change dramatically.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ten year-old was still nowhere to be seen, and Becky was about to head toward the stairs to track her down when <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> rushed down the last few steps, stumbling at the bottom and then righting herself. Her face was a mess of tears as she observed Becky's presence and thrust the hairbrush at her. "Here!" the girl cried.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">On a better day Becky might have recognized that the child was confused and upset, not disrespectful, but today the "attitude" the young woman perceived earned Elizabeth a hard smack to the seat of her jeans with the palm of Becky's hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Not waiting another moment, Becky wordlessly took <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> by the arm and pulled her over toward the couch that sat in front of the large stone fireplace. She sat down on the couch and tossed the hairbrush beside her, long fingers going to her charge's jeans and unbuttoning them, then tugging them down without bothering to unzip. The jeans were slightly too large anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She knew that the action would be humiliating to the little girl. She didn't need to look up to see the flush that spread across <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s cheeks as she tugged the panties down after the jeans. The child was completely exposed, her bottom cool for the moment in the breeze coming in through the open windows. It was about to become very, very hot.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I am..." Becky gritted her teeth and shook her head. She was disgusted with the school, disappointed in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, and angry with herself for believing that she could trust her charge not to go through the mail if she left it out. For the moment, the pending interview was out of her mind, and she was entirely focused on making the ten year-old a very sorry little girl indeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky wasted no time in pulling <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> sharply over her lap. She shifted slightly so that the child's bottom was high enough to make a good target, but <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was still struggling into a better position, just beginning the process of whining in the hopes of escaping the upcoming spanking. Becky, however, wasn't listening, and the hairbrush began its hard, fast descent on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s bottom. She wasn't tempering her swats, and she wasn't taking her time. This wasn't an effort to get the spanking over with any quicker -- instead, she was taking out her fury on her charge's young bottom, which was turning hotter by the moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You may not be aware, young lady," Becky said, punctuating her statements with half a dozen spanks before she paused to catch her breath and ensure that she was being well heard. "But tampering with the mail is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">federal</i> crime. That means that when you opened my mail, you committed a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">federal</i> crime. Do you know what that means?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She didn't wait for an answer, though she mentally committed herself to assigning a punishment essay regarding mail laws. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> might just learn something in the long run. Instead, she went right back to spanking, raising the brush high and bringing it down with a burning fury on the fullest part of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>'s squirming buttocks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">And the child <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>squirm fiercely as she struggled to get away from the burning pain the heavy hairbrush was inflicting on her backside. "Uh! Nuh-no! Becky uh-I didn't muh-mean to! I uh-duh-didn't thuh-think!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Darn straight you didn't think!" Becky cried, beginning to apply the hairbrush with increased vigor to the little girl's "sit spots" right in that tender crease where the bottom and thighs meet. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> would have trouble sitting down for the next few days, and Becky wasn't even considering the possibility that she might be bruising her charge's flesh. If she had done something like that when she was a child, why her father would have.... She didn't want to even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> about what her father would have done, but she would have gotten off light with a hair brushing, that was for sure! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It had been nearly five minutes of non-stop spanking when Becky finally tossed the hairbrush aside and shifted her weight, indicating that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> should stand up. The girl's backside was blazing and she could feel the heat rising off of it. The spanking was finished, but Becky was in no way done with her young charge. There would be an essay to write, and sitting on a hot and sore bottom would make the process even more uncomfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> struggled to her feet, still sobbing. She wiped her face on the back of he sleeve, sniffling and staring down at the floor. It was clear to her that the punishment wasn't finished, and she wondered whether or not Becky would follow through with the switch this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Instead her guardian just waved her hand toward the wall next to the fireplace. "Stand there. Hands on your head. Face the wall." Becky gave the child a moment and then scooped up her jeans and panties from where they had been kicked during the girl's struggle. She folded them and placed them on the end of the couch and sighed. Fifteen minutes in the corner should still leave her with a nice hot bottom for writing her essay, Becky decided. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She was just about to go into the kitchen and get herself a glass of water (thirsty after so much work) when she heard someone clearing their voice. Startled, Becky glanced up to meet the brown eyed gaze of a man not much older than she was herself. She would know him anywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Startled, Becky pressed her hand to her chest and took a deep breath. She blew it out between her pursed lips, her cheeks puffing out as she shook her head and moved slowly toward him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'm sorry," he said with a boyish grin that made Becky blush. "I didn't want to interrupt what you were doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky couldn't help but smile back at him as she extended her hand. "Becky Thomas," she said, still a bit flushed. She nodded over her shoulder toward <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "She's Elizabeth Moore, and I'm sorry that you had to see us under these circumstances. It turns out that someone didn't know that tampering with the mail is a federal crime. She's going to be going into the kitchen for me to write an essay on the subject in a few moments."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The man nodded a little bit. "I'm sorry that I arrived at an inconvenient time. I tend to be early for all of my appointments," he said apologetically. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky nodded, though she was gentle. She glanced at the clock on the wall. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, I want you to head into the kitchen and pick up a notebook and pen from the usual place. You are to give me five pages about what "federal crime" means and why you should think the next time you open an envelope. Use any of the government texts you need that are in the library."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky didn't turn her head to observe whether or not the little girl complied with her wishes. If nothing else she knew that Peter would be able to see behind her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Eh! Miss Moore, I don't believe Ms. Thomas gave you permission to put your clothing back on."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now Becky turned, her eyebrows raising at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "Go get the text book that you need and take your things to the kitchen. As you are, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," Becky corrected. Peter was right. Part of the punishment was the humiliation of being bared, and while it was purely by chance that Peter had arrived while the child was still bare from the waist down, Becky would stick to her guns. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She watched as the little girl blushed all the way down to her blouse, glaring at Peter and her guardian, and then trudged off toward the library to get her books. Becky's ears were pricked to hear <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> come back through to the kitchen. Once she'd heard the scrape of the chair, she relaxed a bit and looked back to Peter. "I'm dreadfully sorry about this, Mr. Grisson. I can assure you that things aren't usually like this around here. In fact, normally things are a bit too quiet. I wish I could find a way to draw her out more, but Lizzie mostly just reads."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peter grinned. "My parents know what that's like. When I was her age, all I did was paint. Couldn't keep me indoors much though. I always had a sketch pad outside. My mother told me I'd never make it as a painter. Now... Well," he said, gesturing toward the painting over the fireplace. "You can see where it's taken me."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">There was a moment of silence, a pause between them as their eyes met. Becky smiled slightly, an awkward smile. It was difficult not to feel a bit dizzy in his presence, she thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peter took a deep breath and glanced around the building. He'd been looking for some time, studiously trying to ignore the spanking in progress when he had entered. Having been early, he'd checked out the grounds. He liked what he saw, and he needed something to pour himself into. At thirty-three years old he was becoming too old to simply live the life of a bachelor. He wanted to make a real difference in the world, and it was through his search that he was referred to the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"What do you need, Ms. Thomas?" he asked, turning her head back toward her, his brown eyes suddenly serious. "Money? I can give you that. Time? I've got more of that than I care to think about. Someone to help love and guide the kids? I think it's time for me to give something back. Whatever you need, I am willing to give. What do you need?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Flabbergasted, Becky took a deep breath. Confronted thusly, she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to say to him. She needed his money, yes. She had quite a bit of her own, but eventually it would run out and she'd be working entirely on private donations, since the state gave her nothing to help these lost souls.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I... You know about... It would be difficult for you to go from town to come here for work every day. The houses here, in the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>... They're for sale. At cost. I'm not making a profit on them. If you are going to... If you're willing to..."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I like number 7. And I can start the process tomorrow with my realtor and my lawyer. Does that suit you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Still stunned, Becky shook her head in surprise as she struggled to gather her wits. "Yes," she said after a moment, still trying to get her brain to function correctly. "Yes, of course Mr. Grisson."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The man took Becky's hand and bent to kiss it. She knew his reputation as a playboy and yet still couldn't avoid blushing again. She had expected a possible donation, but his time... His employment... He would be so close, all the time. The thought no doubt excited her, and a tingle went down her spine. "I will speak to you tomorrow then, Mr. Grisson," she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">He nodded and smiled. "I'll let you get back to little Miss Moore. She seemed quite upset," he added, his face going grave. "It might be best if you had a talk with her."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky nodded and sighed, glancing toward the kitchen. "Yes. Of course. I will speak to you tomorrow."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peter headed for the door, and Becky made her way slowly into the kitchen. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was seated at the kitchen table, her weight shifted to one side so that only one of her bottom cheeks came into contact with the hard, cold wood of the chair. She was still sniffling, and there was a small puddle of tears on the table near her book.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Lizzie," Becky pronounced, compassion in her voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The little girl glanced up in alarm, her free hand instinctively going to her hip as though to cover her buttocks. But she could quickly see that the heat of anger had gone out of Becky's face, and in an instant she was up on her feet, throwing her skinny arms around Becky's waist and hugging tightly. "I'm sorry I opened the envelope, Becky!" she cried. "Please forgive me! Who was that man?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The words came quickly, and Becky chuckled softly as she picked up <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s things and guided the girl toward the stairs so that she could finish her job in her room. "We'll talk about it in your room, and then you can finish your assignment," she said, giving the child a gentle pat on the rear, and then hugging her quickly before they headed up the stairs together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-48205426816913632642010-05-15T19:37:00.000-07:002010-05-15T19:37:15.585-07:00Foster Forest (3): The Schoolyard Fight<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The anger was fading quickly. As it went, it was replaced with a deep sense of dread. This time, she knew what to expect. This time, she couldn't claim that she hadn't known what the rules were. It was clear that she was in trouble, and in some serious trouble at that. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> fidgeted. The red was slowly beginning to go out of her face, and she was finally able to unclench her fists. The shaking wouldn't quite subside, and she closed her eyes, blinking back the hot, angry tears of shame that had built up in her eyes. She didn't want them to see her crying -- not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any</i> of them! The two sixth graders had already been picked up and sent home, and the other fourth grader had gone back to class. It figured. She'd known that everyone would take the side of the paying kids. Nobody ever sided with a foster kid. That was just how the world worked, and the sooner a foster kid had it all figured out, the better. At least she wouldn't be too hurt when Becky took her home and gave her the spanking she was sure she was in for.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky would probably do some yelling, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> thought as she gripped the hem of her white school blouse in her hands, twisting it back and forth. The anger was quickly giving way to fear as she realized how glad she was that school paddling was no longer popular. Mrs. Laurel had pointed out to all three guilty students that their situation would have been much worse if she was still allowed to apply the paddle to their backsides. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> thought she was nothing more than a stupid, sadistic old biddy who needed to keep up with the times. Becky could do with having an attitude adjustment for the age, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Indignation was easier to accommodate than fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It would be a while before Becky arrived. The two sixth graders had parents who lived within ten minutes drive of the school. Becky had to come from nearly an hour away, twice a day. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> had at least another half hour to sit and contemplate her crime. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Hey! Hey you!" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Without her book, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had been struggling to assimilate at recess. Though she still didn't "play actively" with the other students in her grade range, she'd managed to keep herself out of trouble by finding a quiet area where she could jump rope or bounce a ball. Nobody had bothered her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Until today.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The boy was big, at least by comparison to her. She didn't know him, and didn't care to know him except that he wasn't in her class with Mr. Becker. He had a head of bright red hair that stuck out in several directions, making <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> wonder how he was within school regulations. Was this the way that the rich kids took care of themselves? If being rich meant looking like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> supposed that she was glad she was a foster child. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A bit cocky, she tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder, brown eyes narrowing at the boy who had approached her. She didn't see his friend behind him, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You're that scholarship kid, huh? Right? The little foster girl?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> flushed a deep crimson, the color painting her cheeks and creeping down her neck. Her ears felt so hot that she reached one hand up to touch one, testing to see if it felt so hot to the touch. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Nobody was supposed to know that she was a foster child. She'd worked hard to keep it a secret, and although she knew that her teachers were aware of her situation, she thought it was being kept private. A foster child in a public school had a hard enough time. A foster child in a private school, on a scholarship, was mince meat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> gripped the ball she'd been bouncing up and down tightly between both of her hands, her brown eyes taking the boy in. He seemed laid back but cocky, his shoulders square. Whatever he wanted, he meant business. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"What do you want?" <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> spat, eager to get the boy to leave her alone so that she could go on with her "active play." The recess periods were becoming torture enough without having to deal with playground bullies.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The boy laughed, turning to his friend and gesturing toward <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "I guess we got ourselves a feisty one, huh?" He turned back and grinned broadly at her. She half expected to see a gold tooth. The thought made the corners of her lips twitch. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Hey!" the other boy, whose presence <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was just beginning to recognize, exclaimed. "I think she's laughing at you, bro! Yeah! Pretty sure she's laughin' at you!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;">'s blood went cold. She'd been dealing with bullies for the past three years. There were bullies in the schools, and bullies in the homes. There were biological kids who thought they were better than the foster kids, and foster kids who had been around longer and had seniority. There were nasty bullies on every playground, ready to trip you up or steal your lunch. Most of all they seemed to like to trap the foster kids into doing something that would get them into trouble. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Just leave me alone," <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> said, struggling to keep her voice from trembling. Her hands dropped the ball and clenched into fists at her sides, betraying her willingness to defend herself if necessary. One foot was slightly in front of the other, making it very clear to both of the older boys that she didn't intend to run.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The boy in front threw his head back and laughed. "Leave you alone?" he said finally, the dark eyes meeting her astonished gaze. "Oh, but we're just getting started," he said as he took another step forward, toward her. "Why ever would we want to leave you alone when you're so much <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A warning chill went down <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s spine, and the hair at the back of her neck stood up on end. Everything in her screamed that she should take a step back, away from them. Her spot had been intentionally secluded from the view of the playground monitors. Now she wished that there was more visibility. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Don't touch me," she said, her voice low and even. "If you do I'll scream. I'll tell Mr. Becker and Mrs. Laurel. If you touch me you'll get suspended for sure."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The two boys looked at one another with mock seriousness, then burst into a fit of giggles. "You get her, Greg!" the boy in front said gleefully. "Hold her for me!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> darted to the side, but she wasn't quick enough for the lanky, dark skinned boy. Before she had time to catch her breath he had her hands pinned to her sides and one hand clamped over her mouth. "You're not going to scream," he whispered in her ear. "Because if they find out what you've done, you'll be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">expelled</i>." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Where is she?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The voice snapped <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> out of her reverie immediately. She gave a shudder, glad that she wouldn't have to relive what had happened only an hour and a half ago. She didn't want to think about it, and true enough, she hadn't said anything about what happened to the teachers. Cilla, the other fourth grader who had already been sent back to class, had told everyone what she'd seen. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> hadn't heard the story she'd told, but she didn't expect it to speak well for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> could even quite raise her head, she felt her chin being grasped in a firm, rough hand, and her tear filled brown eyes went wide with alarmed fear. "You were in a fight," Becky said. It was a statement of fact, not a question. The woman turned the girl's head from one side to the other, examining the dark bruise on the child's cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Very little time was wasted. Becky rose back up to her feet and gripped <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulder firmly, moving the little girl up onto her unsteady feet. She could tell that her charge was frightened, and that was something new. Even in the face of upcoming punishment, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had been bold to the point of disrespect. "We'll talk about this at home," Becky said firmly, beginning to guide <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> toward the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Ms. Thomas."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The voice stopped Becky in her tracks. There was a firm authority in the tone that made her back straighten as she turned around stiffly. She'd spent years dealing with bureaucrats and she'd hoped that part of her life was over and in the past. School authorities were just as bureaucratic as any department of social services. There was a scowl on her face as she turned around.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Ms. Thomas, may I please see you in my office for a moment?" Ms. Laurel said. It wasn't a request, but a demand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky frowned and glanced down at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "Sit down," she instructed the girl. She jerked her purse straps back over her shoulder instinctively, straightening her back boldly as she went through the door to the principal's inner chamber.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ride home was another one of those silent affairs. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> sat in the back seat, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, staring out the window. It had begun to drizzle a little bit, and she figured that was just perfect for the way that she was feeling. The late May weather was becoming warmer and more humid, and the air in the car felt stifling with the windows up.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">This time the ten year-old could feel Becky's eyes on her in the rear view mirror, and it made her feel even more self conscious. She didn't know what Mrs. Laurel had said to her guardian, but she could only figure that she'd been expelled just like the sixth-grade boy had predicted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The silence was strange, and awkward. She'd been with Becky now for nearly two months, and since her last spanking in the kitchen of the home, things had been different. They'd been talking more, and Becky seemed genuinely interested in the things that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> cared for. While the child still struggled to remind herself that she wasn't <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As far as <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was concerned, there was nothing to talk about. They would go home, and doubtless she would have her bottom turned up over Becky's lap. Her guardian had made it clear that she would be dealing with misbehavior with a spanking, and it was obvious to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> that Becky believed the story about the fight. That was the line that the boys had fed to the principal, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> hardly believed that anyone would come to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia;">defense</span>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">At home, Becky let the pair into the house and tossed her keys on the table, gesturing toward the stairs. "Go on up to your room. I will be there in a minute. I just have to... take care of something first."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> should have been scared, and she knew it. Being sent to her room undoubtedly meant that she was about to be punished, most likely turned bottom's up over Becky's hard muscular thighs. The fear pulsed within her, her heart pounding in her ears. She wasn't sure what she had to b so afraid of. A spanking was nothing. There were much worse things that she could expect as a punishment in some of the other homes. Becky never made her do more chores than she could handle, and she hadn't restricted <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s access to books. Even more promising, she hadn't so much as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">threatened</i> to send <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> to another foster home. In spite of herself, Lizzie was beginning to settle in at the Forest Home. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Besides, she was finding that it was nice being just the two of them. Even if she did sometimes get spanked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">By the time she reached her room, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> had almost managed to convince herself that she was just in trouble for some normal "kid thing." Just some normal rule breaking, nothing out of the ordinary. What if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had</i> been "just a fight?" She'd take her spanking, wait out her suspension, and then it would be over. The school wouldn't really expel her. Would they?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It seemed like forever before Becky arrived. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> started out pacing the room, walking across the carpet back and forth until she was exhausted emotionally and physically from the ordeal of the day. Finally she sat down on the edge of the bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The uniform blouse was torn on the sleeve, and the hem of her skirt was coming down. Both would need repairing, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> reminded herself that she knew how to sew. Perhaps, if she didn't trouble Becky with such things, she'd have more of an opportunity to stay. It wasn't so much that she loved the <st1:place w:st="on">Forest</st1:place>, but more that she was tired of going from one place to another.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ten year old started when she heard the bedroom door open. Her head snapped up, and her brown eyes met with the green gaze of her guardian. Becky's eyes were slightly puffy, and there was moisture at the collar of her shirt. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> frowned. Becky had been crying? She shook her head and crossed her legs, putting it out of her mind as she lowered her head again and stood up, already reaching under her skirt for her panties.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Lizzie, wait," Becky said, reaching for the chair at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s desk and drawing it toward the child, sitting down in it. She took hold of both of Lizzie's hands and gently forced the girl to sit back down on her bed. "I want you to tell me what happened. Your side of the story. I want to know what happened today on the playground at school."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> flushed deeply with shame and turned her head toward the window, looking outside. The leaves were full on the trees outside now, and there was a wind whipping through the forest. The rain splattered against the window now, harder than before. No longer a drizzle, a storm was coming. She bit her lower lip and shook her head slightly. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to have to talk about what had happened that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">There was no response from Becky, as though she hadn't noticed the shaking of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s head. The little girl shrugged her shoulders, jerking her hands out of her guardian's grip. Carefully putting a scowl on her face, she turned back toward Becky. "I got in a fight at school. What's there to tell? I'm sure Mrs. Laurel told you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> about it." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">There was a heavy dose of sass in the little girl's tone of voice, but Becky recognized it immediately as a protective act, meant to shield her emotionally from the blow that came when she was punished for what had happened that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She'd spent a lot of time in her office, crying the tears that she'd had to shed, and making necessary decisions. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> wasn't cooperating, and that meant that she was going to have to act on the most difficult of the decisions she'd made.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">With a sigh, Becky nodded her head, resolved to what she had to do. "Please stand up," she said to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "Take off your skirt, since it needs mending and you won't be needing it again for the weekend anyway. You can put it, and your blouse, in the hamper to be washed and repaired. Bring me your hairbrush and pull your panties down to your ankles."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Oh! she hated this! The expression on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s face was sterner than her own as the ten year-old solemnly went to the other side of the room and stripped, leaving her clothes behind her. Instead of simply lowering her panties, she removed them, tossing them into her little hamper and then grabbing her heavy wooden hairbrush from her dressing table.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> had gotten a hairbrush spanking from Becky the third day that she'd been at the Forest Home. In her memory, the spanking wasn't that bad, and the fact was that Becky had been holding back a good deal on the punishment, knowing that she was angry and therefore restraining herself. A hairbrush could do a much better job than Becky had done that day, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> was, as yet, unsuspecting.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky sighed, blowing the air out between her pursed lips as she shook her head. "I don't know what you think is happening here, Elizabeth, but I'm about to give you a very real, very hard spanking for not being open with me. I have given you a chance to tell your side of the story, and you rejected me flat. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This</i> lesson is about trusting me to take care of you." There was a brief pause and Becky sighed again. "One more chance, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. What happened on the playground today?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> was silent, looking out over and through Becky, her brown eyes unfocused. The young woman shook her head, wondering what she'd done wrong to make the girl feel that she couldn't trust her. They'd had their differences, and there had been three very difficult weeks for them, but she thought that they were moving past that. And she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted</i> to help, but she wasn't going to lead <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> by asking her questions and then waiting for answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky nodded seriously. "Alright then," she said, gently taking the ten year-old's hand and guiding her across her lap. Knowing that this spanking would be difficult for the little girl to handle, Becky positioned <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> over her left knee, raising her left leg up on her toe, and then secured her legs with her right leg. Immediately the girl stiffened, a small, startled cry coming from deep in her throat. Becky had expected that, and planned for it as well. While she preferred not to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">scare</i> <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>, she was hoping to jolt her into the realization that with honesty, she could be helped.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"It's too late now for you to tell me what happened on the playground at recess today, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. I'm going to spank you now for disobedience -- for not telling me what happened when you had the chance. You'll have another shot at it when this is over, and if you still don't want to talk, the you can have your spanking for fighting on the playground as well. I hope that I've made myself perfectly understood, young lady."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">With that, there was no more need to speak. Becky didn't particularly expect to get a response from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, and it was better that she simply get the spanking started so that it could be over with much more quickly. She was determined not to stop until <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s bottom was a bright cherry red. If nothing else, it would serve as a good warm up for what was to come if the girl chose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> to tell the truth when it was over.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The hairbrush smacked down, Becky choosing her spot carefully, focusing attentively on the crease where the child's bottom and thighs met, the spot where <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> would think about her decision every time she sat down for the next few days. The first swat was very hard, and Becky worked at her usual calm, slow and steady pace, alternating cheeks from one side to the othe.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As usual, Becky wasn't keeping count of the number of swats she gave <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. She felt that it was important that she didn't have some magic number in mind for when the spanking would be over. She was looking for a response in the child, and evidence that her bottom was adequately punished. She trusted herself to know when to stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky was spanking harder than she had spanked her young charge before, and was mildly surprised when it took more than five swats of the heavy, hard hairbrush before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> let out her first squeal of discomfort. Encouraged, Becky applied herself a little bit harder, putting the hairbrush to the backs of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s thighs, right up at the top. She intended to make this spanking matter, and ensure that the child's bottom was sore from the swell of her bottom cheeks right down to three or so inches above the knees. She wanted the red to show if <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> wore a uniform skirt. She wanted the child to wear the reminder of her dishonesty wherever she went.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The spanking was brutal, and as Becky began to work her way back up from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s thighs, spanking over the already dark pink marks, the child began to sob in earnest, her body twisting violently over her guardian's lap in her struggles to get away. "Okay! Okay! I'll tell! I'm telling!" she cried.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky only shook her head. "You had your chance to tell me what happened on the playground. You're going to get your spanking now and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> you will have the chance to tell me what happened on the playground today. And if necessary, you'll get your spanking for the fight."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> was well locked down, and even then her feet drummed as much as possible against the carpeted floor of the bedroom. Her torso twisted and her back arched, but she couldn't escape the stinging blows of the hairbrush as it made its way up to the highest swell of her bottom and then began to work there, picking up the pace and spanking more steadily. She was still taking her time, and spanking just fast enough to make the spanking nearly unbearable.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The child's breathing was becoming ragged, and her bottom was now blazing with heat. Becky hoped that she'd been sincere about her promise for information, because she nearly didn't have the heart to follow through with the second punishment, if it became necessary.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky paused. "I hope that you're serious about being ready to talk, young lady, because if not your second spanking is going to make this look like a walk in the park." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sighing, the auburn-haired woman shook her head and gently guided <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> up so that she was standing between her knees while Becky sat on the desk chair. "I want you to tell me about what happened on the playground today. I don't want you to tell me just what you think I want to hear: I want you to tell me the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">truth</i>. And yes, Liz. I'll be able to tell the difference."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">For a long time the only sound in the room was the sniffling and sobbing coming from Elizabeth as she rubbed at her sore rump with both hands. Becky didn't mind taking her time -- it would be easier to get a read on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> if she wasn't in the process of sobbing. And besides, she felt that it was an important part of any spanking to give the child who had been spanked adequate time to recover from her ordeal.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">After ten minutes Becky felt that she'd given <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> plenty of time. There was a certain tension between them, and she hadn't reached out to comfort the girl. The result was a peculiar awkwardness that Becky struggled to brush off as she took <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s hands in hers and rubbed her thumbs over the soft skin on the backs of the child's hands. "Tell me what happened. I am listening, and regardless of what you may believe, I'm on your side, Lizzie. Tell me."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">New tears bloomed and spilled, followed by heart-rending sobs coming from the little girl. She shook her head from side to side, but even as Becky tensed in preparation to lecture her charge, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> pulled her hands away and held them up in a gesture of helplessness. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky didn't know what to do. If <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> didn't talk to her, then she was obligated to punish the child for fighting at school. Fighting was against the rules, but she could make exceptions of the girl had been in some way provoked. She knew what the principal had said, and she had gotten her information from Cilla, who had witnessed at least half of the fight.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">One of the two sixth-graders had a broken nose, as had been reported to Mrs. Laurel by the parents. The other had been checked over by a doctor but was left only with several scrapes and bruises. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s skirt and blouse were torn. There wasn't a scratch on her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Yet <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was the loser in the fight. Becky could tell.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sighing, Becky shook her head and stood up from the chair, letting go of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s hands. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pocket knife. "Since you aren't going to tell me what happened, it seems I'm going to have to follow through with your punishment for fighting. I want you to take this knife and go outside. Cut me a good, sturdy stick off one of the trees out there -- that's called a switch."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky was ready to go on, but the girl's arms caught her hard round the waist, holding on tight as though Becky were a life raft and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was a drowning girl. "I told him to leave me alone!" the girl cried. Snot and tears were soaking Becky's shirt, and she quickly dropped back down into the chair so that she and Elizabeth were eye to eye. She reached out and took the child's face in her hands, looking deeply into the brown eyes that searched her face for recognition, compassion, and belief. "I told him! But the other boy... He grabbed me and I couldn't move and..."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She went on to haltingly tell Becky the rest of the story. She didn't spare the details, though she flushed deeply with shame as she revealed what had happened, outlining the very things that her classmate had seen and reported to the principal after she had screamed for help.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> had been in the process of fighting back when the yard monitor had reached them. She'd kicked the red-haired boy in the groin, and had worked free just enough to elbow the bigger boy in the nose, breaking it. She'd been lucky to avoid being covered in blood, but as soon as she was free, she had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">run</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Nobody had caught her. She was, after all, a scholarship student and a foster child. Nobody cared whether or not she'd been in a fight or had been hurt. She was resigned to that.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> couldn't see the compassion in Becky's eyes. Her head hung, and she couldn't look up. She was terrified of the revulsion that she expected to see, and so was surprised when the woman pulled her gently into her lap, cradling her head against her ample chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Oh, Lizzie," Becky breathed, tears in her own eyes. Not knowing what else to say, she rocked the little girl back and forth until the child's eyelids began to droop. Becky was a strong woman, and she was able to gently lay <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> on the bed and pull a blanket over her. She kissed the child's temple and went downstairs to phone the school.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"What do you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mean</i> you don't know whether or not the board is going to renew her scholarship next year? She didn't do anything <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrong</i>!" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky was indignant, and she didn't know if she was more angry for herself and her home or for Elizabeth, who thankfully was in class and not privy to the conversation that was going on between her guardian and the school principal. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Now Ms. Thomas, you know that I'm not in charge of these decisions," the gray-haired woman said, taking a step back away from the angry guardian. "I'm only telling you so that it won't come as a shock if you receive a rejection letter in response to your most recent application. There are other deserving children who need those scholarships and who may not be as much trouble for our teachers and our school."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"But you are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on</i> the board, Mrs. Laurel!" Becky said in exasperation, her hands coming up in a gesture of helpless defeat. "Are you saying that you wouldn't go to bad for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> in spite of the fact that she was molested right here at your school, by two of your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">paying</i> pupils?" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'm sorry, Ms. Thomas," the principal replied, her hands clenched together in front of her. "There is nothing I can do. She has caused quite a stir here with her behavior and her difficulty in obeying our rules. Several of the yard mothers have complained, as well as Mr. Becker..."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I see," Becky said. "So in other words, your school is just like anywhere else: You only want the kids who aren't broken. You aren't willing to work with somebody who has problems. I get it."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Defeated, Becky sank into the chair in front of the desk, her hands reaching up to rub at her throbbing temples. Mrs. Laurel relaxed a little bit and went to sit behind her desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The principal sighed. "If you like, I can write you a referral to another school and another scholarship program -- an academic scholarship program. Her grades are quite high, and she is a bright student." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"But you've called her a troublemaker," Becky said, sighing herself and shaking her head. She was going to need to come up with a better solution. The school year was over for this year, but next year things were going to be different. She was qualified to teach, and she could home school Elizabeth if that was what it came down to, but she felt that it would be better for the girl to have contact with the outside world, especially as long as it was just the two of them. Already they were getting on one another's nerves.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"We'll see about that referral," Becky said, standing up and heading for the door. Once there, she turned around, one hand on the knob. "I'll figure things out. But in the meantime, I want you to know that sometimes if you give up too soon, you're giving up on a hidden gem. It's too bad for you," she added with a shrug, and then went out the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She would only be returning to pick <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> up from school for the next week. Then the school year would be over and she would have to find another solution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-62067123264952698752010-05-14T14:57:00.000-07:002010-05-14T14:57:59.532-07:00Foster Forest (2): Breaking<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Things at the Forest Home seemed to be settling down. Lizzie was eating, and that kept Becky off her back. Although they rarely spoke to one another except during the mealtimes (and then it felt mandatory to talk to one another since it couldn't be avoided), it seemed that a kind of peace had settled itself over the home. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Underneath it all, however, a tension was bubbling.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> was ten years-old: far too young to be expected to think of the needs of others. If she didn't notice that Becky was on edge, it could hardly be considered her fault. Young and narcissistic, she believed that she was the source of the tension, and so avoided Becky all the more. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">This was easy enough during the week, when <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was able to escape the private school where she was being sent on a scholarship. During the week she could gobble two meals without worrying about somebody scolding her for eating too fast. During the week she didn't have to watch as her guardian stalked around the cabin, slamming the doors behind her when she went outside to care for the horses. During the week she didn't have to try to watch out, always wondering what she had done to make the woman so angry.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">On the weekends there were many tears, but Becky didn't notice. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> would watch the woman go back and forth, pacing through the great room, sometimes on her cell phone, her voice raised. More often than not, Lizzie would retreat to her bedroom where she could grab a book and lose herself within the pages. Becky wasn't even trying to talk to her any more. Maybe it was better that way. That way she would never get attached, she couldn't be hurt when it was time for her to move on.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Although it was easier on Lizzie now that Becky no longer expected her to "talk about it," her loneliness was all the more pronounced. She was beginning to slowly run through the young adult novels in the small library at the home, and she knew that soon she'd be down to the mid-grade stories, since the adult books were just too much for her, and besides, she'd discovered that her teachers didn't approve. The books, at least, were her friends, with characters she could relate to. However temporarily, she could lose herself within the pages of the books she read.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Some days Lizzie allowed herself to miss Gran. As best she knew, the old woman was still out there somewhere, living in a nursing home with no idea that her only granddaughter was wasting away in "the system." She missed her grandmother, and it was difficult for her to understand how the woman could forget everything that was important to her. Nobody had ever even tried to explain it to her, and Lizzie had given up trying to understand. It was just stupid anyway!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">School was easy though. There was always something going on, and the seat work took enough of her attention to take her mind off of her "situation" as one family had called it. She could spend six hours every day forgetting that she would ultimately have to go home to a huge, cold house with an angry, brooding foster mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Even at recesses, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> took a book with her to the playground. The other students, most of them the children of wealthy families in the area, were prone to poking fun at her for being a scholarship case. At least they didn't know that she was a foster child. That might have been deadly in the long run. With her nose buried in a book, it seemed as though she was practically invisible to anybody who happened to pass her. She liked it that way. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The illusion was shattered, however, when three o'clock rolled around and she had to make the walk to the black Ford waiting for her outside the school. The buses didn't go out far enough to pick her up or take her "home" and that meant that she missed the last half hour of aloneness before and after school.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">After the first week they had stopped trying to talk on these journeys. Lizzie sat in the back seat and put her nose in her book, and she never noticed the way that Becky worriedly glanced in the rearview mirror to check on her. She had shut down on the feeling of abandonment that she'd suffered when the last parents had moved and left her behind. If she didn't get close again, then she couldn't get hurt again. That was how Lizzie viewed it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Every evening Becky told Lizzie to do her homework. And every evening, Lizzie took her homework to her room. None of it was particularly difficult, and she spent the rest of the night after supper and a bath reading one of her books. Becky had even stopped coming in to tuck her into bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> continually told herself that she wasn't lonely; that she didn't miss her Papa at all. She struggled to convince herself that she had no expectations of being loved in this new place, so if Becky didn't talk to her any more, or tuck her into bed, it didn't mean anything to her. She suppressed the pain and didn't let it show on the outside. If anything, she gave the appearance of being too tough for her own good.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It was that toughness that first got her into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a name='more'></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;">"Elizabeth Moore!" The voice was hard, tinged with a sternness that caused a chill to go down the ten year-old's spine, and for a moment, she didn't turn her head, didn't look up. She recognized the voice as that of her teacher, Mr. Becker, and she recognized the tone as the one he'd used last week when one of the other students had been caught passing notes in class.</span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Her shoulders were tense, and her fingers gripped her book tightly. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> forced herself to breath deeply, in through her nose and out through her mouth. She didn't want him to see that he'd ruffled her feathers. Only once she was composed did she look up at the man, her brown eyes narrowing into slits as she glared up at him. "What do you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i>?" she snapped. "Can't you see I'm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reading</i>?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lizzie noticed the twitch at the corner of his eye. Her own gaze focused on the movement and then faded again to her usual uncaring expression. She knew what the expression meant: she had ruffled his feather, perhaps even more than he had ruffled hers. This was noted with satisfaction, and she tossed her blonde pony tail over her shoulder and looked up at him, raising both eyebrows in an adult expression that would have been very unusual in a child who had been brought up in a gentler life.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Come inside," Mr. Becker said, his voice sharp.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> didn't know what she had done, but it was very clear to her that she was in trouble. Slowly and deliberately, she gathered up her book, dusted off her uniform skirt and followed Mr. Becker into the school building and back to his classroom, her eyes looking straight forward with a courage that she didn't feel.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">In the room, he shut the door behind them and gestured for Lizzie to sit at one of the front desks. She shook her head. "I'll stand, thanks," she said defiantly. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The man shrugged his shoulders and took his own seat behind his desk. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," the man started slowly, though his tone was still stern enough to make Lizzie's stomach roll nervously. "It has come to our attention that you are taking a book to recess every day during school hours. Is this true?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;">'s eyebrows came together and she recoiled slightly, giving the man a disgusted look. "Yeah, I take a book out every day. I don't feel like talking to the snobby little brats whose parents can pay for them to go to school here. So what?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The teacher sighed, though Lizzie noticed the little twitch near his eyes again. He wasn't particularly good at hiding his irritation, and Lizzie Moore was especially well trained in how to spot it. Ordinarily she might have cared, but on this occasion she felt as though she'd been ignored long enough. Nothing she did seemed to get a rise out of Becky since the moment when the woman had slapped her in the face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The tiniest of shivers went through <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s body at the memory, and she hoped that the man hadn't seen her reaction. Although she wanted a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rise</i> she didn't particularly want to wind up getting punished. She knew the damage that Becky Thomas could do with a hairbrush and she suspected that if she got herself into trouble at school, that she was going to wind up in just as much trouble once she arrived back at the home. Becky might even stop letting her use the books. That was something Lizzie couldn't stand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Recess is 'active time,'" Mr. Becker stated, a sharp tone in his voice that told Lizzie that his temper was becoming short with her. "Our school board requires that students spend at least half an hour every day in outdoor active play. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Reading</st1:place></st1:city> is not considered 'active play.' I will take your book." The teacher held his hand out for the book.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Startled by the demand, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s eyes went wide, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around the book, clutching it tightly to her chest. The rules at the home were clear that the books weren't to be removed from the house. Apparently Becky was worried that they would get lost, or damaged in the woods. She wasn't supposed to have this book outside of the house, let alone at school. Certainly Becky wouldn't impose any consequences if she noticed that the book was missing (she'd been so distant!) but Lizzie didn't want to take the risk, either. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> shook her head back and forth at her teacher as she turned to flee. For the first time since she'd started at this school she was showing some real emotion: her protectiveness over the books that were hers. "You can't have it," she called over her shoulder as she rushed to her locker and shoved the book deep into the recesses of her bag. "It's my book and I'm not going to give it to you!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The little girl missed the bewildered expression on the man's face. The irritation was gone, replaced by the surprise of noticing that the toughest girl in his class was showing some genuine emotion -- over a book nonetheless! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The tension frightened <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, but she said nothing as she turned and strode on shaky legs back to where the teacher stood. "Anything else?" she asked, her brown eyes cold as she stared at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I need to have that book, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>, or I'm going to need to send you to the principal's office so that your... So that Ms. Thomas can be contacted about this. Those are your choices. I can't let you keep the book. It's breaking our rules."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> rolled her eyes and shook her head. She was frustrated. It was clear to her that her biggest problem would be if Becky found out that she'd taken the book out of the house, and even then she expected that she'd be scolded. She refused to allow herself to even consider the possibility that Becky might revoke her book privileges. The entire concept didn't make sense: A school that wouldn't let her read, but wanted her to "engage in active play?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"No," she said. "You can't have my book. I'll go out and... 'play' if that's what you want, but I'm not giving you my book."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She could see the agitation in his eyes, and for a moment Lizzie nearly stepped back away from him. It was with a great deal of forceful concentration that she stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">And only after several moments did he finally speak. "Fine," he said. "Let's go." Mr. Becker took Lizzie's arm, his large, rough hand less than gentle as he gave her a tug to move her toward the door. "We'll see what Mrs. Laurel and Ms. Thomas have to say about this matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Whatever," Lizzie muttered, jerking her arm out of his grip and moving at a swift pace as she walked ahead of him. She knew where the principal's office was, and she didn't mind going there. At her old school she had helped out in the office after school, until somebody was done at work so they could come and pick her up. Maybe Mrs. Laurel would even side with her about the book. After all, this was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">school</i></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia;">and weren't they supposed to be encouraging students to enjoy reading?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Two hours later the insanity of the situation still hadn't quite sunk in for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. She was sitting in the back seat of the Taurus, with Becky in the front seat. The book was up there, with the witch, and Lizzie was forced to focus on the silence of her thoughts for the entire long drive back to the home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">They were nearly there when the ten year-old violently kicked the back of the driver's seat. "It isn't fair!" she cried in anguish. "It's a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">school</i>!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Well," Becky snapped back, without missing a beat. "The sooner you learn that life isn't fair, the better off you're going to be. Personally I think that it is quite fair that you are being punished for breaking the rules just like a paying student would have been punished for breaking the rules. Did you think that for some reason you were immune to my rules, and the rules at school?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> drew back, her brown eyes going wide. She'd never seen Becky so angry, not even the day when she'd been spanked for yelling at the woman and refusing to eat. Shifting, she settled in against the door, staring out the window. The bitter expression on her face was gone. She'd finally gotten what she wanted from Becky: a reaction of some kind. She'd thought that it wouldn't matter if it was good or bad, but she could tell that the woman was angry -- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> angry -- and as it sunk in that it was her fault, a guilty conscience began to haunt her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The rest of the drive was taken in silence until Becky pulled into the garage at the home and opened the door, then went around to the back and let <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> out. Subdued, the little girl slid out of the car, grabbing her backpack without bothering to sling it over her shoulder. Her head down, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> went through the door into the kitchen without saying a word. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Unsure of what she should do, but knowing that Becky was going to want to "talk" to her about what had happened (she'd said so before loading into the car), Lizzie put her bag on the kitchen table and sat down in one of the chairs, tucking her leg up under her and staring down at the table. She didn't figure that she was going to be spanked, like she was the last time, and she wasn't expecting that Becky was going to send her back to her social worker for re-placement. But even a lecture could be painful in its own, uncomfortable way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It seemed forever to Lizzie before Becky finally came through the door from the garage into the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind her. The ten year-old didn't even look up as the auburn-haired woman pulled out a chair and took a seat near her. She'd half-expected the woman to begin yelling right away, to order her to go to her room. Instead, there was a long silence, and then the sound of something being slid across the rough wood of the table. Lizzie didn't dare look up.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You like to read," the woman said, her voice low with a curious tone. Not at all what Lizzie expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Her brown eyes darted up to meet the curious green gaze of her guardian, and she felt herself flush as she nodded her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out, and she closed it again, tears forming in her eyes as she considered the possibility of the books being taken away from her, so that she would no longer be allowed to read.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I never had much time for reading," she heard the young woman say. There was a ruffle of paper, and the girl looked down to see that Becky was rifling through the book, the same curious expression on her face. "There's always been too much work to be done. Never was much one for watching T.V. either. Just a movie now and then. I wish I'd done more reading when I was your age," she added thoughtfully. Then Becky slid the book back across the table to Lizzie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> didn't want to tell the woman that in the past three years, books had been her only friends. She didn't want to talk about how she could escape from the life she really had into the life that she wanted. She couldn't express to this woman the fact that books were something she could rely on to always be there for her, even when people were so fickle and unreliable. She feared that if she divulged any of this information, the books, or the privilege of the books, would be taken away from her. Instead, she just shrugged her shoulders, struggling to remain dispassionate to the discussion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The woman sighed, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> carefully trained her eyes on the table. The girl noticed the movement, but ignored it. There was a clattering sound coming from behind her, and then she felt a firm hand grasp her arm and pull her roughly to he feet. Lizzie gasped with surprise, her brown eyes going wide as she met the green gaze of her guardian. It was immediately obvious what Becky intended to do, and Lizzie had to struggle to resist the urge to stomp her foot in protest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I didn't do anything wrong," Lizzie protested through clenched teeth, keeping her eyes carefully on Becky's face so that she wouldn't have to observe the wide wooden spatula in the woman's hand. She yanked her arm out of the woman's grip, only to be surprised, brown eyes going wide, when the hard flat of Becky's hand met with her upper thigh. The ten year-old cried out sharply, her eyes hardening as she struggled to keep the tears from coming and flowing down her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reading!</i>" Lizzie growled angrily as her hand went to rub at her thigh. The frustration was boiling beneath the surface, and she knew that it was going to bubble over if she wasn't careful. Why did Becky have to choose this moment to start caring about what she did? Why <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>? "What do you people have against <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reading?</i>" she said, stomping her foot and shaking her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'm going to give you the choice to take your own panties down this time," Becky said, her voice firm. It was obvious to Lizzie that her guardian was ignoring her protestations.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The truth was that Elizabeth Moore was more than just a little bit scared. She'd been spanked a few times by Gran when she was growing up, but never in a foster home until she'd met Becky. The hairbrush spanking she'd received three days after her arrival hadn't been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> bad, even if the stinging slap to her face had been a shock to the ten year-old. What frightened the girl now was the slow and deliberate way that she was being treated, as though her guardian had planned this punishment carefully and every movement was calculated. There was no escaping the fact that this was going to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hurt</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I don't <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanna</i>...." The whine in Lizzie's voice surprised both child and guardian, and the little girl had to blink back tears as she carefully reached under her uniform skirt and lowered her panties down to her knees. The expression on Becky's face told her that if she didn't comply, she would be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">made</i> to comply, and the thought of being so exposed in front of Becky brought a deep flush to the girl's cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The woman gave a small nod of approval to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, though her expression remained incredibly stern. The child wasn't sure whether or not she had done as well as Becky had hoped, and the tears shocked her as much as the whining tone of her voice only seconds before. The fact that she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted</i> to please Becky was astonishing to her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Up and over," Becky said sharply, patting her lap as though she expected automatic compliance from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"No..... I don't want to!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> cried, the whining tone gone from her voice as she shook her head from side to side. "I don't want to get a spanking. Please!'<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You should have thought of that before you took one of the books from our library out of the house. You know that's against the rules young lady, and you can't argue that you didn't!" Lizzie felt her hand grasped in Becky's, which suddenly seemed so much larger. She flushed more deeply a she toppled over the woman's lap and was adjusted for mutual comfort. In a moment, she wasn't going to be comfortable at all, and she knew it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You should have thought about the consequences of your actions before your broke the rules at school, and before you sassed your teacher, and your principal!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Any hope that her guardian might choose to spank her over the seat of her skirt was entirely dispelled when Becky lifted the skirt up over Lizzie's back. The girl took in a sharp breath, blinking back the tears that were already beginning to run down her cheeks. Mentally she chided herself on being so weak that she couldn't even lay across a woman's lap without tears coming. She didn't even know (yet) why she was so emotional -- just that she felt terrible being in this position.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">No time was wasted. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> could sense the movement more than she could see it, and she tensed when she felt the wooden implement tap against her bared bottom. Her shoulders tightened, and her bottom cheeks clenched together. Her grandmother had never spanked with anything other than her hand, and the wooden spatula was an entirely new experience for Lizzie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"No! Please!" she cried. But it was too late. The stinging, burning fire seared into her bottom, and the girl's back arched, her torso twisting as she struggled to make her way off her guardian's lap. Lizzie gasped, her head shaking back and forth in denial as the spatula smacked down against her right cheek, burning its impression into her flesh. She squealed again, finding it suddenly difficult to catch her breath, or to listen to what Becky was uselessly saying over her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"If you get into trouble at school, you will be spanked once I bring you home." Two more swats struck Lizzie, making her buck and squeal like a struck pig -- first the left cheek, then the right. The swats were firm, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was certain that her guardian was using all of her strength to burn a lasting impression into the child's backside. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> didn't like it: not one bit. "Stop! You can't!" she cried, convinced of the injustice of what was happening to her. Since she'd been in foster care, only the "mean man" had dared to spank her bottom, and she'd been pulled out of that family very quickly afterward. It seemed to the child that Becky was just as mean as that man was, and she'd make sure that Mrs. Hodges knew it, too!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I can and I am," came the response. The spanks were coming slow, giving her just enough time to begin to recover from one set of two before the next set was applied to her bottom, reigniting the burn.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> wasn't keeping count of the spanks. They were slow, and she could easily have kept track, but her mind was reeling with everything that she was very quickly learning. Becky seemed to think that she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> spank Elizabeth, and that meant that chances were very good that she would continue to do so, if she thought that the child needed it. The information was sinking in more and more with every hard spank of the spatula against her tender backside.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The spanking was slow, and something about that seemed terribly strange to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. She'd heard friends talk about how their daddies spanked "hard and fast," but Becky was slow and very deliberate. There was no question in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s mind that the spanks were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hard </i>(though Becky, who was going easy on her charge, might have disagreed), but the pacing was so slow that it seemed the spanking was taking forever!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ten year-old twisted hard over Becky's lap, her right hand moving quickly to cover her bottom protectively as she cried out "I'm going to tell Mrs. Hodges on you! You can't do this!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> was lucky that her hand didn't receive the corner edge of the spatula, which had been about to land, just a bit harder, against the subtle, tender crease where her bottom and thighs met. The woman had managed to stop her hand just in time, and the little girl gasped when her hand was grabbed and roughly pinned to the small of her back.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Keep your hand out of the way!" Becky snapped, a mean edge to her voice that made <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> shudder involuntarily. "You can tell Mrs. Hodges anything you want, young lady. It isn't going to stop you from getting your bottom punished when you've done something wrong. You may as well save your breath!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The tone of voice was harsh, and the meanness behind the words frightened <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. The tears had already been flowing, but when the first of many sobs escaped from her throat, Lizzie was no longer able to control her crying. The tears flowed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The spatula rested against <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s bottom, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Perhaps her tears had caused Becky to end the spanking. Maybe the woman know how to feel some mercy after all! Before Lizzie could begin to pick herself up off of Becky's thighs, however, the lecturing continued. "I don't care what Mrs. Hodges says or she thinks, young lady. Part of my job is to make sure that you learn to obey the rules, and I'm sure you'd rather be over my lap right now than to lose your book privileges. Now I'll just finish up here, and you can go to your room and do your homework!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The sense of relief that Lizzie felt upon realizing that the books weren't going to be taken away from her quickly disappeared when the spatula lifted up off of her bottom again. She tensed, unsure what to expect, but it was only a moment before the spatula was smacking down against her bottom, fast this time. It was almost as she might have expected a spanking to be, except that Becky focused carefully on the tender crease where the bottom and the thighs met with one another -- the place where Elizabeth would be sitting down to do her homework.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The spanks were hard, and they came fast. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> no longer had time to catch her breath between the spanks, and every one caused her legs to jerk out behind her. She was sure that she was too old to be treated in such a juvenile manner, and tears of humiliation joined the tears of pain as they ran down her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Okay! Okay!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> cried, shaking her head from side to side. The spanking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> hurt, but more than that was the humiliation that she felt at being treated in such a childish manner, as though she were only still a six year old. "I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again! Ow!" A particularly hard swat caught Lizzie on the back of her thigh, and she kicked, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her nose was beginning to run.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">What does she want me to say</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">? <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> thought to herself. What was she supposed to say? She'd said that she was sorry, that she wouldn't do it again. But Becky wasn't talking, and Lizzie wasn't sure what was expected of her at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Uh!" Lizzie cried out in pure frustration as the spatula continued to smack down against her already-sore bottom. The heat was building spank by spank, and Lizzie was becoming quickly exhausted. "I didn't know!" she cried suddenly. "I didn't know about the rule at school! I'm sorry I took the book with me! I'm sorry!" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">With surprise, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> realized that she meant it this time. Sobbing, she shook her head and stopped her kicking. The spanking soon stopped as well, and a gentle hand rested on her backside. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please don't take the books away. Please!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Once she was guided tremblingly to her feet, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> went straight into Becky's arms. She tensed at the rigid response from her guardian, and then relaxed as a gentle, warm hand went up to rub her back. "I don't think you're going to do it again," Becky whispered in her ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> nodded her head emphatically. "I won't!" she cried earnestly. "But please... The books..." she said, drawing back and wiping her running nose on the back of her hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"They stay here," Becky said firmly. "You aren't to take them to school, and they aren't to go any further than the porch without my written permission. If something happens to one of the books, I want to know who damaged it." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> started to open her mouth to point out that she was the only child on the premises, but she wisely chose to keep quiet, simply nodding her head. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"And I think that we'll see about getting you some more." Becky pulled <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> in for a quick hug, surprising the ten year-old, and then gave her a stern look. "Go on up to your room and do the homework that Mr. Becker assigned, and then make me a list of books that you'd like to have. I'll see what I can do while you're at school tomorrow. Okay?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> nodded, a grin spreading across her face. "Okay!" Turning, she grabbed her book bag off the table, glaring at the evil little spatula for a moment, and then turned and rushed up the stairs to do her home work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512588857452002904.post-2594682995636372622010-05-12T20:11:00.000-07:002010-05-13T08:10:19.855-07:00Foster Forest (1): Setting the Groundwork (Elizabeth's Arrival)<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">There was a headache brewing behind her eyes like a storm. They always came slowly, and although none had ever progressed to the status of "migraine" she had, in the past, often gone to bed with one of her headaches. When she was a teenager, the headaches were always worse around term time, and she'd struggled for acceptance to university based on her absences from her high school.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tension, and sometimes exasperation, caused the headaches. Today's headache was caused by the stress of an expected new arrival, the end result of months of frustrating back and forth with the relevant departments. The tug-of-war had finally ended two months ago when an agreement was reached. Rebecca Thomas and her home for unwanted children would fly below the radar. She would be the one asking the questions, and as long as her system worked, nobody would complain.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She had faith that things would work out fine in the end. She'd fought for her organization and for the children she knew would soon follow. She have been able to relax, but she felt a deep sense of disquiet as she considered the manila file folder on her desk. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">With one finger, she flipped it open, the fingers of her opposite hand massaging her temples as the headache threatened to spread. Inside the folder was a photograph of a blonde haired little girl along with three sheets of paper. The first was the case worker's notes, which had clearly been kept to a minimum. The second was a report from the child's last doctor's appointment, and the third was the results of her psychological profile. The file told Becky absolutely nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She'd accepted the application robotically, without thinking. It had taken two months for the first caseworker to make an application and she'd begun to worry that she would fail, even after all the work that she had done. Justine Hodges had put her faith in Becky and the Forest Home, and even if the young redhead couldn't understand the case worker's reasoning, she had chosen to extend herself toward Elizabeth Moore.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now, two weeks after accepting the application, Becky was worried. There was very little information and the case worker had done little to be in contact with Becky. She was agitated and more than a little bit suspicious.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The home existed in order to help children who were considered a "problem" in traditional homes. She had equipped her home to handle the toughest youngsters and desired for it to be a place where they could receive both the discipline and the love that they didn't get from traditional foster placements. Whatever <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> could dish out, Becky could handle. She was confident.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The internal struggle only began when Becky realized that there was nothing at all to suggest that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> as a "problem child." The child was ten years old and had been through four homes in the past three years (a good track record, in Becky's mind). <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was healthy according to her most recent check up, and there were no psychological problems to speak of. Even where Becky might have expected trauma, the psychologist reported it strangely absent.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She had to cease to be suspicious of the little girl. The child would be arriving within the next three hours. Becky flipped the file closed and put it back in her cabinet, where she hoped it would multiply into more applications. For now, she had to swallow the feeling that she was being tested, and make sure that everything was ready for the ten year-old.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><a name='more'></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It only took half an hour for Becky to check through the upstairs rooms, ensuring that everything was in place to receive a ten year-old girl. The expansive cabin had three floors that could house up to twelve children in single rooms. She had set up the rooms on the first floor to house girls, and the rooms on the second floor for boys. The rooms came sparsely furnished so that the children could add their own personal touches to them. After all, Becky hoped that the placements would be permanent, and she wanted the children to be comfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So far it was only Becky. She had hired on no staff members to help her to care for the children who would be coming into the care of the Forest Home. She was beginning to realize that it would be difficult to get children settled by herself once there were more than one. She would need to step up her recruiting efforts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Convinced that things were settled adequately upstairs, Becky made her way back down into the large great room. The reception area was toward the front of the building. A large desk, reminiscent of hotel receiving desks, stood a few yards back from the front door, and on the south side of the room a stone fireplace stood invitingly. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky went to the fireplace, stooping to light the fresh kindling that she had placed earlier that morning. There was still a definite chill in the air even in April and she knew that the fire would give an inviting appearance. Perhaps she could make some cocoa for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> and spend some time getting to know the girl here, before she showed the child her room.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">For the first time, Becky was beginning to realize that she had no experience whatsoever in settling children into a new environment. She'd hoped that the case workers would offer some kind of support and encouragement, but so far Mrs. Hodges had been anything but forthcoming. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sighing, Becky settled in on the couch in front of the fireplace, letting her head fall back against the back of the sofa, her green eyes drifting shut. She would be meeting her new charge in less than two hours, but everything was done. She could do with a little bit of a rest. She hadn't slept well the previous night and had been up early in the morning to take care of her horse.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Hello? Ms. Thomas?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky's eyes flew open, her head rising as she blinked in confusion. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, and the voice was, at first, foreign to her. It took a moment for her to realize that she'd heard the voice on the phone before, and another moment to compose herself enough so that she could rise to her feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Justine Hodges stood in front of the reception desk with a little girl. The child's hand held tightly to the social worker, and there were two plastic grocery bags on the floor at their feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky smoothed her skirt down over her thighs and reached up to test her hair. The bun had fallen to the side, and she quickly released her hair from its band, letting the auburn waves fall loose around her shoulders. Finally satisfied, she approached the desk and offered what she hoped was a bright smile. The child appeared to recoil.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'm so sorry," Becky said in a low, calm tone of voice. "I must have dozed off in front of the fire. It's so cozy there. I hope you haven't been waiting very long."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Finally, her eyes met those of the case worker. The woman's blue eyes were somehow steely, and her mouth was set in a grim line. "You might have chosen a better spot for your home," she said, her voice kept low. Becky could tell that it was with a great deal of determination that she kept the tone neutral and calm. Already there was some animosity between them. That certainly wasn't the way that she liked to start things out. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The social worker continued to stand with her back straight, not letting go of the child's hand. "It took me over an hour to find this place," she said firmly. "You may want to be sure that in the future a case worker has better directions, or you aren't going to be very successful."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky gritted her teeth and calmly nodded her head, reining in her red-headed temper and her desire to snap back. "Please, won't you come in and sit down? I can make us some hot cocoa. It is such a brisk day outside."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I can't stay," Mrs. Hodges said shortly, pulling her hand from the child's grasp. The little girl let out a quick breath, and Becky glanced toward her again, then sighed and shook her head. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I had hoped to speak to you," Becky said, her own patience beginning to evaporate quickly. "The information that you have provided for me is... Insufficient," she added quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The case worker tossed her head and reached down to pick up her case. When her steely gaze met Becky's again, the younger woman knew that the discussion was over. "I have a hearing to attend. Had I not wasted so much time trying to find this place, I might have had a few moments to spare. As it is, however, you will need to call my office to make an appointment. Good day, Ms. Thomas."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky gritted her teeth, but her nod wasn't noticed as Mrs. Hodges clipped out the front door at a speedy pace, apparently eager to get out of the cabin. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Glancing down at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s meager belongings, Becky sighed and shook her head, reaching down to pick up both bags and place them on the desk, off the floor. The ten year-old blonde girl followed Becky's every movement, though the woman was satisfied that the child didn't appear to be afraid.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">There was a long moment of awkward silence. Becky felt entirely inadequate. What was she supposed to say to the girl? She was hoping that the case worker would help to smooth over the awkwardness, but she'd rushed out so quickly that Becky was at a loss for how to do the introductions.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You're <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>..." she said, feeling uncomfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"You're Becky..." <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> said in return, her dark brown eyes seeming to bore into Becky. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The woman shifted from one foot to the other and nodded her head slightly. "Yes. Would you like a cup of hot cocoa or would you prefer to go straight to you room?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ten year-old cast her gaze aside and shrugged her shoulders stiffly. "I'll see my room, I guess," she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Disappointed, Becky struggled to swallow past the strange lump forming in her throat. Her headache was gone, but she suddenly felt entirely helpless in her efforts to make a ten year-old girl feel at home at the Forest Home for Boys and Girls. How much more difficult would it be when there were more children? she wondered.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She would settle <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> in to her room, and hopefully they would be able to talk over dinner. She would order a pizza, so that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>'s first night wouldn't be ruined by having to eat her cooking!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky couldn't have imagined three more intense days if she'd used every ounce of her imagination. Regardless of what the files said, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had her fair share of problems, and it felt as though she'd spent three days taking them out on Becky. The woman had been busily taking notes: so many, in fact, that she had taken to carrying a small notebook around with her everywhere she went. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> seemed to ignore the note taking, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Becky wasn't sure whether or not that should disturb her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">After three days with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> in the house, Becky was fed up. She'd vowed that she could take on anything, that any behavioral problem was something she could deal with. She hadn't counted on a child's refusal to eat, or the stony silence that she faced whenever she made a direct command. Somehow she hadn't thought through the training process that would ultimately lead to obedience. She hadn't considered exactly how she was going to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel</i> when it became necessary for her to deal with a behavioral issue. After all, she'd never actually disciplined anyone before. Her ideas -- her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">values</i> -- were only good until they were put to the test, and that was where she'd been falling short.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Supper was on the table. Becky had gone through a great deal of effort to prepare a meal that she was certain <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> should like and should be willing to eat. She was serving spaghetti, with meatballs separate, so that the meal could be vegan, or kosher, or any other diet that the child may prefer. There were no notes in the file to indicate that gluten was off the table, and Becky only hoped that the ten year-old would be hungry enough to at least try to eat something she'd prepared. She could only starve herself for so long, after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky put the bowl of pasta into the oven to stay warm, and then headed up the stairs to the first floor. She knocked on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s door, and then pushed it open when she didn't get a response from the little girl. "<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>?" she said, struggling to keep her voice calm and low. "Supper is on the table. You need to come down and eat."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"No."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The arguments had been getting stronger and more difficult for Becky to tolerate. Twice already she had nearly snapped out at the girl in anger, and now she once again had to rein in her emotions. "Elizabeth Jean Moore, you are going to come downstairs and eat your supper tonight. That's the end of the story." Becky stepped out of the doorway and stood to the side, waiting for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> to follow her out into the hall so that she could lead the child into the dining room.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'm not hungry!" <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> retorted from her bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Something soft but heavy hit the door frame, and Becky felt the heat rising to her cheeks. The anger was becoming increasingly difficult for her to control, and she was very aware that she was going to snap sooner or later, and wind up punishing the little girl in frustration and exasperation rather than out of the love that <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky took a deep breath and gazed into the room, her green-eyed gaze hard on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "Young lady, you have a choice. You may either come down to the dining room with me -- and eat -- or you can have your backside warmed up with my hairbrush. The choice is entirely up to you, of course, but that is your choice. There is no third option."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky was about to turn from the room and head downstairs, giving Elizabeth some time to make her decision, but the bitter words from the child in the bedroom stopped her in her tracks, making her blood run cold. "I hate you."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Slowly, the young woman turned around, her green eyes narrowing as she looked into the bedroom. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was now standing on her feet beside the bed, her small hands clenched into fists as she glared. "I hate you!" she repeated.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky didn't think. She didn't stop to check her anger levels, but strode into the room in four long strides, her strong right hand tearing across <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s cheek hard enough to make the girl stumble back slightly in surprise. Becky didn't even stop to realize what she had done, but reached for the wooden hairbrush on the night table and sat down on the bed, pulling Elizabeth toward her by the waistband on her pants. The child put up very little resistance as Becky tugged her jeans and then her panties down to her ankles and yanked the slender body down over her lap.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She didn't speak. There was too much anger for Becky to lecture, and she didn't have the words anyway. Never in her life had anyone told her that they hated her, and the tears stung her eyes so that she had to blink them back. Anger was quickly giving way to a deep emotional pain, but she pushed it back as she raised the brush and began to spank the little girl firmly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky used the hairbrush firmly, but without harshness. The spanking was steady, with a pause of five seconds or more between blows. At first the little body was stiff and still beneath her securing left arm, but after only a few smacks of the wooden brush, the child began to squirm. "I hate you," she breathed again through clenched teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'm sure that you do hate me right now," Becky said, her words surprising herself. Her voice didn't sound like her own, and she recognized that her teeth were clenched. Forcing herself to relax, Becky continued with the spanking, realizing now that her anger was beginning to fade, and that she was, indeed, spanking <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> for all the right reasons. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"It's easy to hate somebody you don't know," Becky said, her voice firm. She made no effort to be gentle with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, knowing that there would be time enough for that later. "You haven't given me so much as a chance, young lady. I don't know what is going on with you, but I can't help you unless you tell me."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Again Becky fell silent, and for a long time the only sounds in the room were the stiff brush rising and falling against <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s tender bottom and the soft cries of pain the child allowed to escape. Although the ten year-old twisted over her lap, her struggles weren't earnest, and she made no effort to cover her sore bottom. If it wasn't for the fact that the girl was beginning to sob, Becky might have thought that the child didn't feel the spanking at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Leave me alone!" <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> cried suddenly. The stiffness in her body drained, and the little girl covered her face with both of her hands, hiding behind them as she sobbed. "Let me go. Leave me alone."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky stopped. If it was only the words alone, she might have gone on for another minute or so, but there was something broken about the tone of voice that had the young woman stopping in her tracks and setting the hairbrush down beside her. Instantly she felt sorry that she'd leapt to punish in the first place, but she steeled herself, tucking the child's body up closer to her own, her left arm wrapped around the girl's waist. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I am not going to leave you alone," Becky said, her tone low, her speech slow and distinct. "You are going to come downstairs and eat some supper with me, and you are going to tell me what this is all about. That's your choice, or we can come right back up here and I can continue to spank your bottom for you. The choice is yours."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Elizabeth</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> pushed herself up off Becky's lap, her brown eyes downcast as she reached for her panties, pulling them up with a wince, and then for her jeans. She hesitated for a moment before buttoning them and doing the zipper up. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sensing that the conflict was over, Becky rose and put the hairbrush on the dresser, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulder. "I made Spaghetti for supper," she said, her voice gentle. "Meatballs on the side if you want them." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Nodding her head, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> moved into line behind Becky, keeping her eyes on the floor. Surreptitiously she rubbed at her backside, testing the soreness. Becky glanced at the girl out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help but smile. She'd done the same on many occasions when she had been <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>'s age.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">In the dining room, Becky gestured for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> to sit down. For three days the little girl had sat in the same seat, resisting her meals. Becky sighed and shook her head. Some parents might have provided a pillow for the child to sit on, but Becky hadn't been raised that way, and she recognized that the spanking had been necessary. After all, it had done its work quite well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A moment later the food was on the table, and Becky sat down, offering up a short prayer of thanksgiving before dishing the pasta and sauce onto the plates. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> still wasn't meeting her eyes, and Becky sighed as she moved the pasta bowl out of the way and reached across the table to touch the child's hand with her fingertips. "<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>," she said softly. "It's only you and me. I want you to talk to me." She hadn't been able to get in touch with the social worker, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place>'s behavior was so baffling that Becky realized there was only one way that she was going to get to the bottom of the issue -- if Elizabeth herself told the woman what was going on.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ten year-old picked up her fork and played with it, stabbing it into the pasta and then twisting blindly. She sighed and bit her lower lip. Becky couldn't meet her eyes to read the expression there, and she found herself becoming increasingly frustrated. On the verge of giving up, she was surprised when <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:city></st1:place> popped the spaghetti into her mouth and chewed for a moment before saying "I don't want to talk about it."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky took a deep breath. The headache was beginning at her temples again, and she reached up, briefly pressing both of her index fingers to her forehead and closing her eyes. Silently she prayed for the strength to make it through this challenge, and then she lowered her hands and looked deeply at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nobody</i> is talking, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>. Not you, not Mrs. Hodges, or your shrink. I don't know what is going on with you, but I'm going to find out, even if that means paddling your bare bottom every day for the next month."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A moment of tension followed, and Becky wished that she'd said nothing. She was getting nowhere, and she was useless with this child. How was she supposed to help a child she knew nothing about? The social worker wasn't returning her calls, and she'd been unable to get another appointment with the psychologist until the first of May. Information on the previous foster placements was confidential and therefore restricted from her. Things were not progress, well or otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"They promised." It was a muffled statement that made Becky wonder if she'd heard the words at all. She cocked her head slightly to the side and listened for a moment as <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> stabbed at her spaghetti again and slurped up a long noodle, eating slowly and with what appeared to be satisfaction. When she was finished chewing, she spoke again, louder. "They promised they were going to keep me. Forever. They lied. You lie too. All grown ups do."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">For a moment Becky sat in stunned silence. She'd never planned on having children like this. No, she'd expected the rejects, the children that parents didn't want because there were behavioral problems. She'd managed to convince herself, for however short a period of time, that Elizabeth might have an eating disorder or an attitude problem that had made the previous four homes give up on her. Instead, it appeared that she was the "victim" of a failed adoption. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why wasn't that in her file?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky slowly took a bite of her spaghetti and chewed thoughtfully. Finally she swallowed and looked at <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>, nodding her head in affirmation. "Okay," she said carefully. "You can work on the assumption that everything I say is a lie. We'll see how far it gets you. In the meantime, I'm choosing to trust you to tell me the truth. I can't help you if you don't. Are we clear then?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The tears bloomed even before <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> put her fork down on the table. She didn't drop it, but set it down carefully, staring into her plate. The tears began to fall one by one, spattering on the place mat beneath her plate.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">At a loss, Becky didn't know what to do. They had not been bonding well, and she wasn't sure that either of them would be comfortable with a display of affection. Her heart went out to the child, who had only just now taken a big step by eating even a portion of her meal. The woman had punished harshly and the child had withstood. The red mark on her cheek was already fading, and Becky knew that it wouldn't be long before the pain in her bottom was only a memory as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Her appetite gone, Becky moved to clear the table of the remains of the meal. She carried the food back into the kitchen and put it into storage containers in the refrigerator, where it would sit with the other remains of meals that <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had refused to eat. A moment later, she came back into the dining room. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was still sitting where Becky had left her, the tears rolling down her cheeks. She had pushed the plate of spaghetti away, but not before eating a bit more of it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky nodded her head slightly and put her hand on <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s shoulder. "Why don't we go into the great room and sit in front of the fire for a while?" she asked. "I can make some cocoa if you like. You can tell me about your family."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The ten year-old gave a short nod of her head and stood up, moving slowly toward the fireplace. Becky watched as she glanced over her shoulder, and then the woman sighed softly. She shook her head and followed after her young charge, kneeling in front of the fireplace to place the kindling and then to light the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When Becky turned around, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was curled up in a corner of the sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were dry now, but Becky could tell that she was fragile. She reached out and patted the little girl on the knee. "I'll be right back. Do you like milk in your cocoa?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Okay," <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> said, and Becky took that as an affirmative.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A few minutes later, when Becky had two cups of cocoa in her hands, she stood back to observe <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> as the child stared into the fire. For days she'd been despondent, but Becky had failed to see it, instead observing the disobedience with the child's refusal to eat. She felt angry with herself that she hadn't taken the time to get to know what was going on in the girl's head, and even angrier that she had punished the child out of frustration rather than love.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Could she learn to love this child? She'd always thought that love would come naturally, if not easily. She had never imagined that she would struggle with getting to know a child, or that she wouldn't automatically want to reach out to them. She hadn't expected things to be so hard, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> didn't deserve to be an experiment.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sighing, Becky walked back to the fireplace and set the cups down on the hearth. She turned and sat down on the sofa next to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> and patted the girl on the knee, opening her arms for the ten year-old. "Come here," she said. Her tone was slightly stiff, just a little bit uncomfortable as she offered herself to the girl who had been so soundly punished just over an hour ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">But where Becky was stiff, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> was a natural. She was a child, and in spite of how hurt she'd been in the past, she was inclined toward trust. Moving smoothly, she fitted herself into Becky's arms and pressed her face against the woman's shoulder. The tears came quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Startled, Becky wasn't sure at first how to react. Her body seemed to move accordingly, however, and her hands went to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city>'s back, rubbing gently, smoothing the damp blond hair back from the girl's face. "Okay," she said. "Okay... Okay..." she repeated over and over again, unsure what she was supposed to say. She wouldn't apologize for spanking the child: <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Elizabeth</st1:place></st1:city> had needed it. She couldn't account for the parents who had given the little girl up, so she left that subject to dangle as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Liz... Papa called me Liz," the girl said, drawing back and wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Everybody else called me 'lizabeth, 'cept the one guy -- he called me 'Beth.' I hated that. Don' call me Beth."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Becky nodded slowly, processing the information as well as the apparent swing in moods, making a mental note to write that down later on. She reached out, brushing a tear from Liz's cheek. "Liz," she said, her voice quiet and solemn. "How about we drink our cocoa, and maybe we can watch a movie together. I'll let you pick," she added with a slight grin.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It was progress. That, at least, made Becky hopeful.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Stormhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16259064509256098638noreply@blogger.com3