Nery Legacy (5): The Day the Earth Stopped Spinning

    “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.

    “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?”

    “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.

    “I could go get her,” Rissa offered. “Charlie loves pancakes.”

    “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.
   
    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.”
   
    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.

    “Clarissa....” Daddy said warningly.

Nery Legacy (1): Rights and Responsibilities

    

   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.

    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.

    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.

    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.

    “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.”

Foster Forest (8): Rump Roast Barbeque

June had rolled smoothly into July, though there seemed to be some resistance from at least one resident of Foster Forest. 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 Jackson 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.

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 Jackson now, and not with her. If it bothered her, she was trying not to show it.

In the meantime, Jackson 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.

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. Jackson 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.

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."

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."

"You don't sound confident."

"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."

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.

"What now?" Becky asked, rolling her eyes as she pushed up out of her chair.

Peter sighed and went to follow her upstairs.

Foster Forest (6): Stress and Strain

Three days had passed since Peter had first suggested to Becky that he was going to take Elizabeth 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.

As far as Peter was concerned, the three days in between had been hell. Becky told him that the behavior was normal for Elizabeth, 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, Elizabeth 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, Elizabeth was simply disrespectful, and although she obeyed almost everything the young woman told her to do, Peter decided that he'd given Elizabeth a distinct advantage in what appeared to be an ongoing war between them.

His days off had been spent deciding how he was going to handle the "situation" that was Elizabeth. 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 Elizabeth, 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. Elizabeth's attitude would change, and change for the better. Otherwise, what he knew to be Becky's mission at Foster Forest would fail.

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.

"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.

Foster Forest (5): New Rule

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 Foster Forest. 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.

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.

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 Forest. 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.

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.

"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.

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.

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 Elizabeth 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.

"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.

"Where's Elizabeth?" he asked, looking around, surprised that the little girl hadn't come out to greet him.

"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.

"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?"

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.

Peter gave a small nod. "So you need me to stay here. Overnight."

"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.

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.

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.

"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.

"Okay," Peter said. "I have a couple of bags, everything else should have been delivered to number 7."

"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."

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.

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?"

Peter shook his head. "No," he told her. "I already ate. Go ahead and take care of Elizabeth and then we'll... What, change shifts?"

"At six o'clock," Becky said, and drifted away.

***