Season of Terror

by Tigger
© 2002, All Rights Reserved

 

Chapter 19: A Big Sister's Big Sister

 

Victoria slipped out of her room and into the hallway. Jane had the 'Penny-watch' for the next few hours and they'd be working on grace and movement again today. By all accounts, poor Mr. Webster was getting as bad a bruising with Penny as Seasons House had ever seen.

"Has yet to make two complete circuits of the library without the book sliding off Penny's head," the older woman had muttered when she'd come to the music room to relieve Victoria.

 

*It's strange, but Jane almost never uses feminine pronouns with this one. Oh, she calls her student by that girl name, Penny, and sometimes 'that girl', but almost never just 'she' or 'her'. I don't remember much from Victor's first few days in Ms. Thompson's silk-gloved, iron-clutches, but I do remember her gleeful use of all those really girly pronouns and adjectives for me whenever she got the slightest chance. Come to think of it, she doesn't say very much to Penny at all.*

The suicide watch was real - Victoria knew that - and damned scary when she let herself think about it. More than just about anything, she wanted to be anywhere else but in Seasons House watching Penny when it was her turn to take that onerous duty, but she wasn't about to admit that. She had responsibilities now. She was the big sister. That was important and Victor Denato had never really felt important before.

Still, the whole idea of suicide really bothered the be-skirted youngster. Sure, Victor had talked about 'killing himself' in those awful early days, had even fantasized about how his death would screw up Jane Thompson's nasty little setup when the cops and all the reporters arrived, but that had only been just that - talk and fantasy. *What had Marie said? Only cowards took that way out of their troubles? Wonder what Penny fears so much that she'd really do that? I mean, not even Victor took that route, did he?*

That thought surprised Victoria for she had gotten used to thinking of her masculine alter ego as the coward she now refused to be herself. *And yet, old Victor had hung in there through the dark times - through all the hair changes, outfit changes, makeup lessons and high-heeled strolls with Mr. Webster. Not to mention the blistering, soul-shriveling reprimands by one Jane Thompson. He had been a pig about almost everything Jane tried to teach him, but he'd hung in there and hadn't taken the easy way out. He'd fought, and he'd eventually lost, but he hadn't just quit. Maybe that meant old Victor wasn't quite the utter coward she'd thought.

Still mulling that revelation and its implications over, the girl headed down the stairs. Lunch would probably be late again as it had been the past three days since Penny's arrival, but Victoria was hungry. *Well, if my nose is any indication, Marie was making her world-class lemon-bars earlier this morning and the cookie jar should be ready for slaughter! After that, I'll take an apple or two down to the stables. Won't have time to stay, but it'll be nice to get away from this for a while.*

Marie was off doing the weekly shopping, so the kitchen was deserted when the girl peeked around the door. Her quest, however, was successful for the cookie jar had indeed been fattened that morning. Victoria was soon seated on one of Marie's kitchen stools, a glass of milk and a plate of cookies close to hand. Her eyes closed in something akin to sensual ecstacy as she took the first bite. *The woman is a GODDESS!* she thought as she chewed the delicate morsel, letting the smooth, tart-sweetness of the lemon custard fill her senses.

She was just reaching for her second cookie when the doorbell rang. "Now who could that be?" she wondered, and then realized that there was no one else to answer the door. With a wistful sigh, she blotted her mouth with a napkin, checked for crumbs and left the kitchen, promising herself she'd come back and clean up after she'd dealt with their unexpected visitor. She did remember to check her face in the hall mirror and was pleased to notice she hadn't chewed off her lipstick eating the cookie.

Reaching the door, she asked herself *Who answers? Young Lady of the Manor or the junior housekeeper?* and suppressed a giggle. She opened the still chained door and peaked out. Standing there was a man wearing the winter green dress uniform of the United States Marine Corps. Twin silver 'railroad tracks' decorated the epaulets of his dark green tunic and the collar points of his khaki shirt.

"May I help you?" Victoria asked politely, and then she realized who this had to be. "YOU'RE JANE'S STUDENT!" she squealed before slamming the door so she undo the chain allowing her to fling the heavy door wide open.

"Captain William Decker, at your service, Ma'am," he said in a surprisingly soft Southern-accented voice. "Is Aunt Jane to home?"

"Come in, come in," Victoria gushed, all but pulling the now-grinning man into the foyer. "JANE!! MS. JANE!! COME QUICK!!" she shouted up the stairs, her hand still gripping the Captain's arm.

"VICTORIA!" Jane snapped as she ran to the head of the stairs. "I'm busy with. . . Omigod. . . WIL . . LIAM!" she shouted as she tore down the stairs in very un-Jane-like haste.

"I'll go watch Penny, Ms. Jane," Victoria said, remembering what her teacher had been doing at that moment. "See you later, Captain Decker. Hope you'll stay to lunch, at least." she called as she hurried up the stairs to the library.

"Oh god, Will," Jane whispered as she walked into the young man's strong, open arms, and wept.

"Hi, Aunt Jane," he said, in an even softer voice than the one he'd used to greet Victoria. "It's good to be home."

~------------~

Somehow, a feast was served within thirty minutes of Marie's return from shopping, one where all the residents of Seasons House were at table. Afterwards, Jane excused herself and Penny to resume the girl's interrupted training and asked Victoria to entertain their guest for an hour or so. Victoria immediately suggested her new favorite thing to do at Seasons House - visit the horses. Will agreed readily enough.

"I've missed ol' Stars 'n Garters," he drawled in the rich South Carolina accent as he stroked the big saddlebred's nose. "She was just 'bout the only thing that kept me sane those first few weeks here. Now, I just wish I had more time here."

"You're leaving soon?"

"Day after tomorrow I ship out to a place they won't even tell me yet."

"Jane said you were in reconnaissance? Like, going behind the lines?"

"We call it 'Force Recon', and yes, that is what I do."

"You're going after the animals that killed all those people, aren't you?"

"Like I said, Victoria. They haven't told me that, yet. I do have my little fantasies, though," William's voice became wistful. "Do you think there'd be time for a ride?"

Victoria thought about it. "Not tonight, at least, not with me. I'd have to change into my riding clothes first, and I go on duty. . .I mean, it will be my time to tutor our new student in an hour."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Jane mentioned it at lunch. Well, how about tomorrow afternoon?"

"That would be great, only, I'm still learning. I never sat a horse before I came here."

"We'll go easy," he assured her. "I just want to see the beach again. Where ever they're sending me, there won't likely be a lot of waterfront."

~------------~

"God, but this is just as beautiful as I remember it," William sighed as they reined in to overlook the rocky beach below. "This used to be my 'I have to get away from Jane' place when I was here."

"So, Ms. Jane hasn't mellowed since you were here," Victoria asked cheekily.

"What do you think?" he grinned. "You ready for some of that picnic Tante Marie packed for us? I know I am. That rock over there looks like a great place for lunch."

They ate in companionable silence, the husky crewcut man and the petite feminine creature. They'd just finished a double helping of Marie's fried chicken when William turned to look Victoria in the eyes. "Jane's worried about you, bro'. She's afraid you're planning on hiding in those skirts for the rest of your life."

"Bro?!?!" she yelped, and then started to demur only have will cut her off in mid-denial.

'Ease off, Vic, okay? I know who you really are, what you really are, and I know why you are here in Aunt Jane's Girl's School for Boys."

The last words threatened to freeze Victoria's blood in mid-pump. *He does know,* her mind screamed even as she managed to squeak aloud, "You do? How!!?!"

A small grin lit the young Marine officer's face, a grin that somehow softened facial features that just moments before had seemed rather stern. "Damn straight, kid. My name was Wilma - given to me by an Irish fella named Finn whose Jane-Name is Fiona. As to how? Well, all I can say is been here, done that, got the lace teddie to prove it!"

"My god. You're telling the truth, aren't you?"

"I am an officer and a gentleman, sis. So, answer the question. *Are* you hiding in skirts? Suppose Jane said, right now, that you could go back to being Victor. Would you?"

The response was quick and positive. "No."

"Why not?" he asked, without any note of censure in his voice. "Have you decided you're really a girl? There are guys who feel that way. From what she told me, even one of Jane's students once."

"What if I *do* want to be a girl?" Victoria retorted, her chin coming up stubbornly. "What business is that of yours?"

William stretched out on the rock without taking his eyes off Victoria. "Point taken." he shrugged. "It isn't any of my business, if it's for the right reasons. If it's for the wrong reasons, meaning reasons that reflect poorly on Jane, then I'm making it my business. Hell, bro, you can screw your life up anyway you want, but Jane matters to me. I wouldn't want to see her hurt."

"I don't want to hurt her either!"

"Good enough! So, prove to me that your desire to continue in this admittedly unusual lifestyle that was admittedly forced on you by Aunt Jane is really the best answer for you."

Shame colored her face and she could no longer meet William's eyes. Finally, she whispered, "Victoria doesn't beat up on little kids."

"Okay. I can see where someone Aunt Jane has helped would think that was important. On the other hand, Victor hasn't beaten up any little kids for months. Why should he start that up again when he leaves here?"

"Because Victor is . . . a . . . coward!"

William snapped upright to stare at Victoria. "Whoa, there, bro. I heard you faced down a gang of thugs in a mall. By yourself. That doesn't sound like cowardice to me."

"That was Victoria, not Victor."

"Same difference, Vic."

"No it's not," Victoria replied sharply. "Jane knows the difference. She praised *Victoria* for being brave - by NAME. She's proud of *Victoria*. She thinks *Victor* is a coward and has said so on several occasions - again by NAME."

"Hell, bro, that don't prove anything. She still calls *me* Wilma most of the time. It's now her special nickname for me. She knows you're Victor. And neither one of you is a coward."

"You just wouldn't understand," she responded bleakly, blinking hard against the tears of shame prickling at her eyes. "You're a Marine, and you've been in combat. You're brave and tough. Victor is a coward, and Victoria doesn't have to convince anyone she's tough."

"Well, that at least is true. Victoria doesn't have to convince anyone she's tough, that she's brave. But at the same time, neither does Victor. Hell, courage isn't something that you vote on. No one else's opinion matters but your own. It's all internal, man. If I learned anything in the Corps, that's it."

"What do you mean?"

"Tough is not giving up. That's it, pure and simple. You don't give up while you're still breathing. You have that attitude, and the biggest bully in the world will back down."

"There's got to be more to it than that," Victoria asserted dubiously.

Will grinned at that. "Of course, you may get your ass handed to you a few times. Lord knows I did. Drill sergeants are the fiends from Hell, believe me, and they *live* for unarmed combat practice against shave-tail officer candidates, or as THEY called us, officer candy-asses. But it doesn't matter whether they can beat your body. Tough means they can't beat your mind. Nobody comes out of Marine boot camp without that sort of toughness. The REAL sort of toughness."

William paused, and then pointed back up the hill toward the old Victorian mansion. "And nobody comes out of Miss Jane's Girls' School for Boys without the same kind of fortitude. Trust me, kid, you got it."

"No I don't. Jane just put you up to this."

"Nope, she didn't. Look, kid, you took off on your own, didn't you, dressed like a sissy and with that infernal long-lasting makeup of hers so that you could donate blood. What did you think was gonna happen when you got there?"

"It didn't matter. It was just something I had to do."

"Bingo! As good a definition of tough as I've ever heard," he said before laughing at himself. "Oops, not quite. Standing up to Miss Jane, now *that* takes guts, man. But you did that, too. And you did them both as Victor, right?

"For all the wrong reasons."

"And now you recognize that they were wrong, but that doesn't mean you weren't tough."

"Just pretty dumb, huh?"

"You said it, kid, I didn't, but I will say something, man-to-man, okay?"

"Yes?"

"I think you'll find old Victor to be a pretty good guy if you ever decide to give him another chance. As great a gal as Victoria has become, he couldn't be anything else. I know I'd be proud to call him friend, or go into a tight spot with him guarding my back."

The primly-dressed equestrienne looked at the trim Marine with wide eyes. The idea that a warrior, a hero, would consider *Victor* someone valuable to have around when courage was called for was . . . a lot to consider.

The young man noticed her confusion, and grinned easily. "Let's be heading back. As I recall, it takes a while to bed these hay-burners down after a good ride."

"Um, fine. Whatever you say," the distracted brunette replied.

"Need a leg up?" William asked easily.

"Yes, please," Victoria replied, accepting his aid to get back on the tall horse. They rode back in companionable silence, Victoria's horse following William's mount without conscious guidance on her part.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.