A Time to Every Season

by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

 

Part III

 

Chapter 9: Memories in Crisis

Seasons House, Master Apartment: W-Hour Minus 3:45

Art squinted through the glare of the summer morning sunrise as he tried to get his neck-ware properly tied. "If someone wasn't hogging the mirror I wouldn't have to use this window and might get this right for once," he called out in not-quite-mock disgust. Sighing, Art considered the mess his reflection was making out of the bowtie, knowing that it meant he was doing just as badly with the real one. 

"Damned things," he muttered, "Why did it have to be the real thing, Janey? Why couldn't the bloody thing be one of those fake ties that snap on? I'd rather wear a corset!"

Grinning, Jane glided over to pull her husband to his feet whereupon she took the tie ends in her own hands. Moments later, she was smugly patting the perfectly tied bow into place. "No problem, see?"

"How do you DO that?" he asked, turning to examine himself in the mirror.

"Practice, my love," Jane teased. "Years and years of practice making lovely big bows in the hair of my sweet young lady-laddies. No real difference when you stop to think about it, is there?"

"I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "You know, even after Audrey came back last winter after the Olympic tryouts, I wasn't certain those two would be able to work things out."

"Well, he is, after all, my son," Jane said proudly. "There was no way he was going to let the opportunity slip away. Why, remember the very next day when Darryl decided to beard the lioness on her turf?"

"It wasn't turf, it was asphalt. And as I recall, you were a bit unhappy with him."

"Only because I went into Darla's room for a consultation on the morning's plan and found her gone. I was worried FOR him, not upset WITH him," she scoffed.

"Yeah, right."

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

Somewhere Near Seasons House: W-Day Minus 159

The early morning March air had just a bite of frost in it as Audrey finished her warmup exercises. The sun would only be a hint and a promise when she finished her run more than an hour later, but for now, darkness reigned.

That suited Audrey just fine. The darkness made it easier to think because there would be little besides running and breathing to distract her. With one last arch of her back, she began first to walk, then to trot and finally, to stride out into an easy, loping jog. She ran the first half-mile at a quick pace, letting it burn the stored energy from her muscles so that her body had to begin pumping more energy along with oxygen to the suddenly deprived tissue. At that point, her body dropped into the familiar rhythm of movement and breathing that could carry her miles without apparent stress.

*She is so damned beautiful when she moves like that,* Darla thought as she stepped onto the darkened trail after Audrey had passed. *Hell, she is just damned beautiful - Period!*

At some point, Audrey's concentration broke as she became aware of someone pacing beside her. Annoyed at being caught unawares, she shot what she intended to a dirty look over at her uninvited jogging partner and almost tripped over her own feet as she goggled.

It was Darryl . . .Darla, running beside her, moving without strain even though she required five strides to match four of Audrey's own, but it was a Darla Audrey had never seen before.

She was wearing a skin-tight unitard - it was light-colored but in the darkness, that was all Audrey could make out - that covered her from ankle to throat and from hand to hand. A coordinating thong of some equally unrecognizable dark color highlighted and accentuated Darla's hips and buttocks. A small but rounded bosom gave her figure a pleasing shape while a sassy ponytail bounced at the top of her head.

*What the hell is she. . HE doing here?* Audrey thought before asking, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Running," Darla replied simply, glad that she'd gotten her own second wind before Audrey had broken the silence between them.

"Obviously," Audrey retorted. "I mean, why are you out here? What did you track me down. Spying on me again for your Mother?"

"No spying," Darla said. "No need to. You're not a student anymore. Graduated with honors, in fact," she finished, her words broken by the rhythm of her breathing.

"Answer the question, Darla!"

"That's, as you said, obvious. I wanted to talk to you. We didn't get much chance yesterday between Melvin's luncheon and your exhaustion. This seemed like a good way to do it."

"I thought Darla didn't run."

"THIS Darla does. YOUR Darla didn't run because Jane wanted me to be the epitome of super-sweet girlish femininity. Besides, I could get the exercise I needed as Darryl when you were here."

"Why couldn't you just come out as Darryl?"

"The main reason is that I can't, not right now anyway, is because Melvin might be an early riser or something and see me sneaking in the house as a boy. Yet I still need a workout, so . . ."

After a pause to catch up a bit on breath squandered on speech, Darla continued, "But I might have done it anyway, even if I knew there were no risk. There are times I just like being Darla. She's a big part of who I am, and I don't apologize for enjoying her."

Audrey's pensive attempt to absorb that provided an opportunity for Darla to catch her breath and manage one more statement, "And I won't hide that part of me from you, not any more. Not the fact of being Darla, nor my enjoyment of it. So here I am."

They ran in silence for the next thirty minutes, their sleek, powerful legs eating up the distance at a sub-six minute mile pace. Darla's implied 'take it or leave it' hung in the air between them, but it remained something that couldn't be spoken aloud, not yet, not by either of them. It wasn't time for that kind of decision yet. But it was a factor in a decision that would someday have to be made.

False dawn began to gray the darkness as they made the final looping turn back towards Seasons House. "For someone who wanted to talk, you haven't said much and we only have a few miles left," Audrey complained.

"I was hoping you'd expand on that 'unfinished business' comment from yesterday, but figured you'd get to that in your own good time. For now, it's nice to just run with you again."

"You've gotten better," Audrey commented. "You aren't following me anymore."

"You're wearing a set of men's sweats that are three sizes too large for you," Darla snorted. "Whatever reason would I have to follow you in THAT?"

"Smartass," Audrey grinned. "That unfinished business you were talking about?"

"Yes?"

"It just got bigger," Audrey said.

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Well, despite meeting a lot of hunky guys - tall, strong, athletes - and despite enjoying their attention for the first time in my life and feeling comfortable with them, they just didn't . . . seem interesting enough for me. I guess I want more."

"Like what?"

"Like some of what I saw in Darryl," Audrey admitted bluntly.

"Some?"

"Not all of it. Not yet."

"Is it because of Darla?"

"You know, I thought so, at least in part. But now I'm not so sure. . . "

Darla was silent for several moments before nodding. "That's fair, I guess. Fairer than he, or maybe, I deserve, perhaps. But you said the unfinished business got bigger. How?"

"Well, it's the damnedest thing, Darla. While we were out here running together, I just realized how much I've missed you - missed you as my girlfriend. I have to figure that one out, too, I guess."

Again, Darla let some time go by before she said anything. "I've missed you, too, Audrey. Maybe, while you're figuring that out, we could try being friends again?"

"Will you have time for that?"

"Like I said before. I'll make time."

Dawn rose bright and clear, turning the sky a deep azure as the pair began their cool-down walk about the paddock. For the first time, Audrey could get a good look at Darla's running suit. "My lord, is that the one I wore the day I was going to kis. . . mean, that last time Darryl and I ran together?"

"No," Darla snorted in disgust. "Yours wouldn't fit me. Too big, especially up here," she added, holding her hands beneath her breasts.

"Oh," Audrey said, her look a little dazed as her eyes fixated on the small tight mounds. "umm, you haven't gone and done anything drastic, have you? I mean, those aren't, I mean, that isn't really you? The boob, I mean."

Darla began to giggle. "No, silly. Just inserts and a really tight running bra. GOD, but I hate running in the thing, too. Feels like I am gonna be cut in two, but it's the only way for me to have a figure, and like I said earlier, I have to have one in case Melvin isn't sleeping the sleep of the blissfully ignorant."

"It's going to be tough for him today?"

"Yeah. Remember the day Jane had you change outfits a bunch of times?" Audrey nodded, her eyes suddenly wide. "Well, almost the same thing except the clothes will be a LOT frillier and sillier, and Jane's going to be a whole lot more critical. This is the day she really traps him and then I name him."

"Name him? Oh, you mean like you did with me?"

"Yep. Oh, that reminds me. If you ever see him? Pretend not to recognize him and ALWAYS refer to him as a girl. His new name will be Melanie."

"Melanie, huh?" A sly grin lit Audrey's face. "Heck, that might rehabilitate him all by itself."

"Huh?"

"It's a whole lot better than Melvin, don't you think?"

"Oh you! Look, I have got to go. Would it be all right if I come out and run with you some other times, too?"

"Sure. Like I said, I missed my girlfriend, too. And besides," Audrey smirked.

"And besides, what?"

"She keeps up a whole lot better than that poky old Darryl ever did!" she called, as she ran up the stairs to her apartment.

Darla giggled as she turned toward onto the path up to the big house. "Well, wear something more attractive than those saggy-baggy sweats next time. It might keep me from concentrating on . . . my running."

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

Seasons House, Master Apartment: W-Hour Minus 3:30

"It's not like I wasn't pleased to see her again," Jane said. "I mean, she was. . . IS one of mine, it was just. . ."

Art rose from the window seat where he'd been basking the feeling of the morning August sun, delaying for just a few moments longer the donning of his formal wear. "It was just that my control-freak wife wasn't expecting her at that moment in time, and you were thrown into a tizzy."

"I was not," Jane sniffed, as she turned back to her mirror and picked up her brush. "Things were delicate at that point, is all."

Grinning, Art snatched the brush from her hands, and began to lovingly stroke it through his wife's auburn locks. "Same thing, but I will grant that, given how things stood when Audrey had left, you might have had some justification in being a bit anxious."

"AHA! So you admit it, at last, you irritating man!" She'd have turned on him had Art not chosen that moment to take her hair in his hands to part it.

"SOME justification, my love," he teased. Setting down the brush, Art used skillful fingers to begin the intricate French Braid he thought looked best on his wife. *When it's not all loose and flowing about her face, that is.* "Still, I would have loved to see the look on that girl's face when she. . ."

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

Seasons House Stable Apartment: W-Day Minus 158

Audrey prowled the apartment's sitting room like a caged lioness, edgy frustration evident in every movement. The morning's run had not gone as she had hoped. . . expected, and she didn't know why.

The old fashioned chime of the door bell broke through her fuming and had her all-but-leaping toward the door.

Triumphantly, she flung it open. "So, you wimped out on me this. . . morn. . ummmm, hello, Aun. . I mean, Ms. Thompson," she finished lamely, her eyes fixed on the woman on the other side of the threshold.

"Good morning, Audrey," Jane said gently. "May I come in, please?"

"Oh, umm, sure, it's your place after all."

Jane stepped inside and waited for the younger woman to close the door. "Not so long as you are here. Please, consider it yours for as long as you care to visit. We will, of course, respect your privacy if that is what you wish."

"Oh, well, thanks, A. . umm, Ms. Thompson."

"Audrey, please, if cannot bring yourself to call me Aunt Jane any longer, I would prefer you call me Jane. However you consider me, I consider you family and I don't like my family calling me 'Ms. Thompson.'"

"All right, .. . Jane. Thank you."

"Which brings up another point we should clear up. What do I call you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

An almost sad smile crossed Jane's face. "How are you called these days? I strongly suspect that you do not go by Chastity." At the girl's near-shudder, Jane nodded. "I thought not. So, are you again, . . . Rocky?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "Not often though. My coach still uses that nickname, but that's about it. Mostly, I ask people to call me Audrey. In fact, I am thinking of having it made my legal name."

"So something good did come of your time here, then. At least you found a name you are happy with."

Suddenly remembering her manners, Audrey hastily swept an arm toward the living room furniture. "Won't you sit down, please? Would you like something? Some coffee or tea? I'm not as good as Marie, but I've learned to make a fair cup of either beverage."

"Nothing to drink, thank you, Audrey," Jane said as she sat on the overstuffed leather couch and waited for Audrey to take a seat opposite her. "I gather from your greeting at the door you were expecting someone else."

Audrey nodded, and felt herself blush. "Darla. . I mean, Darryl, I mean. . .oh heck. You know who I mean. He. . she went running with me yesterday and I sort of thought we'd agreed to do it again."

"I thought as much," Jane said. "We ran into a bit of difficulty with my new student yesterday. I asked Marie and Darla to take turns keeping and eye on her while we give her a bit of recovery time."

"Difficulty? I thought it was supposed to be difficult?"

"It is, especially the first few days, but Melanie had what Art diagnosed as a severe anxiety attack yesterday following one of my rather threatening critiques of her performance. I've had reactions like that before, but nothing quite so serious."

"You're already using feminine pronouns with him. He's only been here a couple of days," Audrey noted, fascinated.

"Practice, my dear, and a necessary part of the program. The sooner my new student is thoroughly immersed in a purely feminine environment and experience, the sooner the really important work can begin," Jane hesitated just perceptibly, and then pressed on. "Which is why I came to see you this morning."

Audrey immediately sat up straighter, regarding Jane cautiously. "Oh, you've remembered something else you need to teach me?"

"No," was the soft, but firm reply. "I've already told your Mother I consider you a success. You truly did come to understand and then to tame the beast your former governess bred in you. Nothing proved that more clearly than your reaction to the unfortunate way in which you learned Darla's secrets. For all the hurt you felt you suffered here, you behaved, in the end, with dignity and some compassion. You could have hurt Darryl terribly without much effort when you left, yet you chose not to go in that direction. No, I am confident that those things I hope you will yet learn you can and will learn without any specific intervention from me."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Not so very much - at least I hope that you will see it that in that light. The issue I needed to discuss with you concerns Melanie. You know a great many of the truths about my program from your discussions with me and with Darryl - truths I don't want revealed to Melanie until I decide to reveal them."

"Such as?" Audrey asked, her brow cocked in a manner Jane recognized from her own mirror.

The school-mistress in Jane Thompson stifled the smile that pride wanted to display at Audrey's imitative expression. A smile right then would NOT support the seriousness of the problem facing Melanie. "As you know, my methods require a young man to find an inner strength that is not dependent on macho posturing, but is founded on self-discipline and courage in the face of emotional challenges. I create emotional challenges by immersing the student in an intensely and exclusively feminine environment where even the slightest traces of masculinity are neither permitted nor considered to have value. It would do my program and this student's progress great harm to let him think he was showing some inherent and unshakeable masculinity despite the evidence in the mirror. So I can't have you reveal that you know he is a boy. Nor that there are others in the household who are male and might be appealed to for support."

"And yet," Jane continued, "I cannot truly expose the student as a petticoated boy, not publicly. My methods are, at their core, a bluff. I - we - all of us in my household - need to make Melanie think she is always at risk of being unmasked as a boy in girl's clothing while at the same time rendering that risk truly insignificant. Much of what I hope to accomplish with this student will become impossible if he learns those facts.

Jane watched as Audrey became very still, her face expressionless. Finally she sighed. "I didn't come here, Jane, to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. I came here to find answers to questions left over from my time with you. I don't understand what you do here, but I trust you enough to agree to what you ask with respect to your new student.

Jane closed her eyes in palpable relief. "Thank you, Audrey," she said as she rose. "Now, I must hurry back. Art and I have some things we want to try with Melanie this morning to see if we can figure out what set her off yesterday."

Audrey rose and walked Jane to the door where, completely without warning, the older woman turned and pressed a gentle, maternal kiss to Audrey's cheek. "You are more than welcome up at the house, dear. Just check with Marie, Art, Darla or me first, in case something special is planned for Melanie."

Nodding, Audrey put tentative fingers to the kissed cheek as she watched Jane move down the stairs. Then, she thought of something. "Ummm, Jane?" she called.

"Yes, Audrey?" Jane replied, looking back up the stairs from the ground floor door.

"I thought you said exclusively feminine environment. What about your husband? What about Art?"

Unexpectedly, Jane gave a girlish giggle. "Oh, that's right. You don't know about Diana yet, do you? Be sure to ask Darla and tell her I said it was okay to tell you." Then she disappeared out the door without waiting for a reply.

"Diana? What the heck has Diana got to do with anything?" Audrey muttered, still holding the opened door. "Nooooo. . . . .," she breathed. "It couldn't be. Could it? He wouldn't. Would he?"

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

Somewhere near Seasons House: W-Day Minus 157

Darla stifled a sigh as she caught up with the sweat-suited Audrey. *Maybe she wore something nice yesterday, and then I couldn't make it,* she thought, and then shook her head. *Just keep trying to convince yourself of that, Dar.* With a last push, she came up along side the taller girl and then settled into the pace Audrey was setting.

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

Audrey had been aware of Darla's presence from the moment the faint patter of the other runner's steps had caught her ears. *And of course, YOU were listening for her,* she mocked herself. *Well, at least I didn't get all dolled up for her like I did yesterday.* That thought made her frown, because until that very moment, she had not admitted, even to herself, the reason she'd taken such care with her dressing for yesterday's run. "Sucking wind, already?" she asked snidely. "We've barely started."

"Had to catch up," Darla opened. "You started without me again."

"Yeah, right," Audrey retorted. "Missed you yesterday."

"Had a problem at the house."

"Jane came to see me and told me about it," Audrey remarked, and was pleased as the surprised double-take response that nearly had Darla stumbling. "How's the new kid?"

Darla shrugged as best she was able while still keeping her balance. "Okay now, I guess. She's over the anxiety attack and at least functioning again, but I think that is mostly because Jane has eased off on her usual tactics. Whether that is good or bad, well, only time will tell."

"If the kid isn't having knicker-fits and is functional, how can that be a bad thing?"

"Well, the first few days have always been the shock treatment. Isolate the student from what he thinks is his source of personal power which is often, and specifically in this case, a dangerous and violent temper. In a lot of cases, that is what made the kid feared in his old environment - something the macho asshole types too often confuse with respect."

"So? What's the problem?"

"It's kind of hard to explain. Look, consider the potential harm if Melanie is out in public and loses control as Melanie. If the explosion is sufficiently violent, she blows her cover and exposes herself as a pretty boy in skirts, okay? What happens?"

Audrey snorted. "A whole bunch of macho garbage and taunting gets dumped on her. . him."

"Exactly. So the intent of the cross-dressing and stuff is to act as a damper to that kind of reaction. They know how they're dressed and how strangers will react if they are unmasked. It's usually pretty daunting for them, which is precisely what Jane wants."

"So what's the problem with Melanie? Sounds like she's pretty daunted."

"It feels wrong, Audrey. She shouldn't have broken down like that - not at that point."

Audrey could hear the uncertainty in her friend's voice, but didn't know what she could do to help. The remainder of the run passed in uncomfortable silence.

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

Somewhere near Seasons House: W-Day Minus 152

They were barely twenty minutes into their run, and already Audrey was feeling the burn in her calves, thighs and lungs. Finally, she reached out and put an hand on Darla's shoulder to rein her in. "You're really pushing today. I don't mind a hard run, but we won't get ten miles in at this pace."

"Oh, sorry," Darla winced and slowed her pace. "I guess I've just got some things to work out, and the running lets me, I don't know, let off steam."

"Melanie that bad?" Audrey asked. She had pretty well discouraged any more discussion about what Jane and Darla were doing up in the big house the past few mornings. Darla had taken Audrey's pointed changes of subject mostly in good grace, but this was different. Audrey could feel it, and it bothered her that her friend was so upset.

"I'm afraid so. She had another panic attack last night. That makes four since she arrived, and at the same time, she isn't giving Jane the expected responses to her program. It's getting pretty scary."

"Scary? How?"

"What Jane normally does during a student's first days is hack away at that tough-guy self image we talked about with some really, well, pretty nasty setups and her scathing comments about his appearance and things. Students react in a lot of different ways when she pours on that kind of pressure. Sometimes they try to take a swing at her."

"They WHAT!?!?"

"You heard me. Jane - and Marie too - have had some . . . training. They don't let the kid get away with it, nor hurt her of course. It's just that they have to push the student to that level of stress to see if she's learned how to handle it. Not only that, but getting taken down by a middle aged woman is pretty devastating to an overblown male ego. The few guys I've seen try her that way were usually very cowed immediately afterwards. Something about looking straight up into the eyes of a furious Amazon who just put you on your butt, I suspect."

"You said she wants to see how they handle the pressure?" Audrey was wide-eyed. "How do you 'handle' something that is deliberately made that stressful? Especially if you can't . . . fight or exercise or something? I mean, I can't see Jane 'losing' any sort of battle of words. What does she really want the kid to do?"

"Cry."

"Cry?" Audrey's voice climbed two octaves in her disbelief. "You're kidding!"

Darla's ponytail bounced as she shook her head in time to her running pace. "No, not at all. It's a non-violent way to release those emotions, which is a fundamental stage they have to reach. It's part of the reason for all the girly things, to make crying more acceptable. More acceptable than violence, for sure."

Darla paused and considered her next words. "Which potentially makes Melanie a significant problem."

"Huh? HOW?" Audrey frowned. "You just said you've already reduced her to tears. Four times, in fact."

"Yeah, we did. There is no way she was faking that scene, but it was the wrong kind of cry. She wasn't venting emotions, releasing them through tears. Whatever caused her to cry like that, it wasn't Jane's setups or her critical comments. It was, well, it was different - and not healthy. It's like . . . instead of releasing the pressure, it's just a sign of how high the pressure is. I don't suppose that makes much sense. You know what really scares me?"

"What, Darla?"

"If Melanie doesn't cry for the right reasons, if she isn't letting out all that pressure, how can we know she'll just stay down when Jane flips her for throwing a punch? Suppose instead of a panic attack, she goes berserk? Someone - Jane, Marie, Melanie - maybe all of them could get badly hurt."

"So? Have Jane back off."

"She won't," Darla said sadly. "She's too damned committed to what she does for her own damned good."

"Ummm, no. Sorry, but I don't understand."

Darla let out a deep breath. "That's okay. Just now? Neither do we."

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

Somewhere near Seasons House: W-Day Minus 147

Audrey was in the zone. The morning was unusually warm for mid-March in New England and she felt wonderful. A good deal of that was the presence of Darla running easily beside her. Their morning runs had become quiet reflective times for both of them. Audrey knew that Darla was growing steadily more frustrated with Melanie and her abnormal behavior under Jane's program. That much was pretty clear from the growing stress she could see on her friend’s face each morning. Just now, she was feeling a bit guilty for not having tried to help, even if just by acting as a sounding board, for the girl. . . person who had been and was again her best friend.

"Still no progress?" Audrey finally asked as they made the turn to return home.

"Don't know if you could call it progress, but Diana thinks she's figured out what sets Melanie off."

"Oh? Can you talk about it to an outsider?"

"You aren't an outsider. You're family," Darla corrected. "She goes ballistic whenever anyone even hints that she might go out in public dressed as a girl."

"I thought that was the whole point of the thing? Send her out in public, put her under pressure, and rely on her being good to keep from revealing herself as a petticoated boy."

"That's the idea, but instead of being afraid, she breaks down. We've already postponed her first public outing twice."

"So what happens next?"

"We continue to work her on the masquerade, not that it is really necessary. She's already as passable as she will ever need to be. And we'll keep pressing her as hard as we can without tripping her off again. Art is hopeful, though, now that we have an idea what is setting her off, maybe we can find a way around that."

"ART! That reminds me! Jane said there are no guys in the house right now, but what about Art?"

"Oh, he's around," Darla grinned.

"Is he. . ? I mean, is Art. . ., Oh hell, does Art dress?"

"Sure he does," Darla teased. "You saw him the night at the ballet. He wasn't naked, was he?"

"Smartass. Does Art dress like you do? When you become Darla?"

"What do you think?"

"Damn you and your Mother! You both answer questions with questions," Audrey snarled, her own emotions breaking through her reticence. "Is Art Diana?"

"Took you long enough to figure that out. He's a psychologist, and was Jane's first conquest back when she was in college," Darla revealed as they approached a 'Y' in the trail. "Look, I've got to run home, so I won't finish with you today. See you tomorrow, I hope!" She then turned on the branch toward the Victorian mansion, waving as she went.

 

Chapter 10: Guess Who is Coming to Dinner

Seasons House, Master Apartment - 3:15

Jane sat in front of the window, half-watching as the workmen hired for the occasion bustled about their about the huge lawn under Old Tom's watchful eye. Several had already dispensed with their shirts in the already warm August sun. Jane eyed her gown with mixed feelings. On one hand, it was gorgeous and she looked forward to wearing it for Art, and to having Art take it off her later on. The downside was that, light though the material was, there was just so much of it. "I'm going to roast." she declared finally.

Art looked up from his own last minute preparations. "At least you have some decollete in YOUR outfit. YOU won't be out there with a tie threatening to choke you at the same time you are steam-cooking in a black waistcoat and tails."

"Oh, stop your whining. We've been through this. Diana can't come out until later, when only the special friends and guests are still here."

"But it will be cooler then!"

"Oh come on," Jane teased. "Be a man!"

"Darling," Diana's cattiest voice replied, "You are treading a very fine line right now. I might just decide you need another shower."

"You wouldn't. . ." Jane started and then stopped herself. *Of course he'd dare - it's one of the reasons I love the sometimes infuriating man!* "So," she went on, changing the subject, "Were you as pleased as I was with Mel's decision as I was?"

"Rather surprised, but pleased. I'm glad things turned out as well as they did, too."

"Well, until that dinner, I wouldn't have given much for success with her. Remember, any time I even hinted that we would be going out in public, she'd have another attack."

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

Outside the Seasons House Stable: W-Day Minus 142

Audrey and Darla raced for the unofficial finish line of their morning run with as much speed as either could muster. "GOTCHA!" Audrey cheered as she edged out her shorter companion.

"I'll . . . get . . . you . . . yet. One of . . . these days!" Darla panted as she began to move into a cooldown pace.

"Just. . . keep. . .on . . tel. . .ling . . yourself. .. that, blondie!" Audrey jibed back.

For all the apparent cattiness between the two, they both knew that they had grown closer since Audrey's return. In the back of her mind, Audrey knew that this girlfriend of hers was not REALLY a girl, but somehow that knowledge did not seem to bother her, or make Darla any less her friend. It was strange, and yet, it also felt very right to the tall, dark-haired young woman. *If only she hadn't lied to me before, if only DARRYL hadn't lied to me before,* she thought for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Umm, Audrey?" Darla's uncertain tones broke through the taller girl's thoughts.

"What?"

"I would like to ask you for a favor. We've managed to avoid discussing anything to do with Jane's program or Melanie the last few days, but well . . .,"

"Well, what," Audrey asked cautiously.

"Would you mind coming to dinner tonight? Up at the house?"

"Huh? What's with that? The kid get sent away or something?" Audrey had visited the house on several occasions, but each time had been carefully chosen so that Melanie had been elsewhere at the time - usually in the upstairs study working with either Jane or Diana.

"No, that's sort of the point. Maybe adding you to her world, a single person who wasn't part of her initial transformation - a girl of course - would be . . . less stressful for her than going out in public - as a girl, that is. Yet it would be, I hope, progress."

Audrey could hear the worry in her friend's voice and it called to something deep inside her. "What's that all about?"

Darla sighed and plopped down on the ground to stretch, watching as Audrey followed suit. *God, but I'm glad she lost those sweatsuits.* she thought as Audrey's lycra-clad form began to elongate sensuously. *And soon it will be warm enough for her to wear a nice little crop top, or maybe just her sports bra. God, she has great abs, and from what that tight outfit suggests, they've only gotten better at the Olympic training camp.*

 

"Her anxiety attacks," Darla continued, pulling her attention away from Audrey's lovely form. "She's more than a week overdue for her first trip to town - the first visit to the Chalet and to Ms. Franson's dress shop - almost two weeks, in fact - but despite Diana's best attempts at finding out what is at the root of her problem, she still goes off - big time - at the slightest hint that a public outing might be in the offing."

"So what does having me join you at dinner accomplish?"

"Although you aren’t really one, to Melanie you're an 'outsider'," Darla told her, "And we - that's Jane, Marie, Diana and me - are not. She knows that WE know she's really a boy, and she's figured out that Jane wants her to go to town, although not why. When we tell her she's indistinguishable from a real girl, she doesn't trust our assessments because she doesn't trust our motives."

"Why doesn't Jane just drag her, I mean HIM into town? She has the authority, right?"

"Because if Melanie goes off in town like she has the last two times it came up here, someone will call 911, and we're liable to end up in the hospital with her - which would blow the whole deal. Not just for her and Jane, but for a lot of the other guys Jane has helped in the past."

"And Jane can't help the kid just keeping him here?"

"It won't be enough," Darla replied emphatically. "The pressure, that is. SHE has to deal with all this under public scrutiny and public pressure. No matter what's really behind her behavior, eventually she'll get too comfortable here - with us, with the routine, with the relative safety of the isolation here at Seasons House. She has to go to the next level if we're ever to help her learn to control that temper that got her sent to us."

"DAMMIT, Darla, you want me to join in Jane's blasted games and I did not come here to play games!"

"Then, please, come to dinner," Darla nearly begged, her eyes huge and pleading. "This is as far from being a game as anything I can think of. That girl needs some help to get over this barrier to her rehabilitation, and you might be able to give it to her."

"You're just like Jane, you know that? You just think of HIM as female - even talk about him as a female."

"Because that is how it has to be if we are to help HIM, Audrey," Darla said softly.

"And you believe that? I mean, REALLY believe that?"

"With all my heart," Darla said with quiet conviction.

Audrey stared at Darla for several more seconds before finally reaching a decision. She nodded. "Okay, I'll come. What time?"

"Great! Pick you up at six p.m."

"It's just a quarter mile walk." Audrey protested.

"Yes, but we don't want Melanie knowing you live around here, so I will come get you in the estate wagon and drive you to the front door so she can greet you like a proper young lady receiving honored guests."

"You're kidding me."

"Auds? I almost never kid. . . at least about Jane's program and her students. Ooops. . .gotta run. See you at six! And THANKS!"

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

Seasons House Stable Apartment: W-Day Minus 142

The clock read 5:15 when the doorbell chimed. Audrey walked to the door brushing out her hair as she went. She opened the door to see Darla loaded down with a garment bag, a cosmetics bag and a twine-handled paper shopping bag.

"Hi," Audrey said as Darla swept into the room, finally depositing her load on the sofa.

"Hi yourself," Darla grinned. "I can see that I was right."

"Right about what?" Audrey demanded.

"That you'd need these," the shorter blonde said mischievously, pointing at the parcels on the sofa. "You're way underdressed."

"And what's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" Audrey's challenge practically dripped ice off each word as she brushed a hand down the elegantly fitted black business power pants-suit. "I'll have you know I wore this outfit to the Olympic reception at the White House."

"Perhaps that would be appropriate for a mere *reception*," Darla said with an artfully-applied sneer. It was too condescending even for Jane, but Audrey had never met Edith White on whom that delicate lip curl was actually modeled. "But this is a formal dinner, and despite your apparent fascination with . . . *politicians*," Darla continued, the sneer on THAT epithet not concealed at all, "neither is the White House in the same class as Seasons House."

Then the blonde girl destroyed the arrogance of her attitude by dissolving into giggles. She did not, however, relent on her basic demand that Audrey step up the elegance of her presentation.

"I've eaten at Seasons House," Audrey insisted as she dodged Darla's attempt to get her out of the suit's jacket.

"Remember, you never got the full treatment. Let me put it this way. Would you attend a formal dinner party hosted by the Queen of England in that outfit?"

"Well, no, but. . "

"No buts. Jane is worse than the Queen of England. The Queen would probably be kind about a dress faux pas. Because of Melanie, Jane can't cut you any slack."

"Oh, all right. What did you bring me?"

"Oh, just some stuff you left behind when you went off to the Olympic Training Camp," Darla grinned impishly.

"Since I left almost all of it, that doesn't tell me much. If you think you're going to turn me into some frilly debutante, you might want to reconsider that gross error in judgment."

"No, this is elegant and very feminine, but the goal is for you to be a real lady insofar as Melanie is concerned."

Audrey sighed. "Okay, so what's first?"

Darla grinned happily and handed her friend the shopping bag. At the taller girl's questioning look, she giggled. "Undies, silk stockings and heels. The whole deal, you know. Jane never does things by halves, you know."

"Oh, I know," the brunette agreed as she reluctantly took the bag. "How come you keep trying to dress me?"

The question seemed to bring Darla up short, and Audrey would later swear that in that instant, despite the perfectly coiffed hair, lovely dress and artistic makeup, she had no doubt of the innate masculinity of the person opposite her. "Probably," Darryl's voice answered her softly, "because it's . . . safer than the converse."

*Converse? What the hell would that be?* Audrey asked herself, then answered her own unspoken question. The converse of dressing her would be . . . undressing her. Open-mouthed, Audrey tried to find an answer to that, but her brain refused to engage. "Ummm, be right back," she muttered as she turned and scurried to her bedroom.

"I'll help you with your makeup when you're done so put on a robe," Darla's laughing voice called after her.

 

Chapter 11: Insight and Breakthrough

Seasons House, Master Apartment: W-Hour Minus 2:50

Art sighed as he snapped on his cummerbund in front of his waist and then spun it around his torso.

"You do that so well. Must be all that practice with brassieres," Jane teased as she came up and turned her back to him. "Zip me?"

"One of my favorite things," he assured her as he put one hand on the zipper tab and the other around her small waist. Jane shivered as he pressed his lips to the especially sensitive spot between her shoulder-blades just before covering it with the nylon closure. "Remember how Audrey looked that night she came to dinner? That black silk dress with the red-trimmed bolero jacket that showed off her waist so well?"

"It wasn't her waist that was showed off by that dress," Jane snapped, then smiled with unaccustomed sheepishness as she got control of remembered irritation.

"Well, Darryl does like those colors on her," Art teased.

"And Darryl DOES like those incredible legs that short skirt showed off so . . . incredibly," Jane sighed with just a twinge of remembered jealousy as well.

"It wasn't that short," Art said. "After all, you bought it for her."

"Yes, I did," admitted Jane, then she smirked and said, "At Darla's, that is, Darryl's urging. I didn't realize how short it would look with her . . . height until we already had it home."

"Our child is a bit manipulative at times," Art said with ponderous gravity - totally undermined by the twinkle in his eyes as he mused, "I wonder where he gets it from."

"I wouldn't know," Jane declared grandly, right before she lost control of a very undignified giggle. "At least she hadn't forgotten her manners, though she did use the wrong fork once or twice."

"Darling, when you put out those forty piece place settings, *I* mess up which utensil to use when sometimes, and Melanie was too out of it to notice anyway. She was too busy trying to slide under the table whenever Audrey so much as looked at her, let alone talk to her."

Jane shook her head at the memory. "Even when she tried to compliment the poor dear. You know, I nearly changed my mind during the desert course."

"Changed your mind?" Art asked as he reached for his waist coat.

"About the plan Darla came up with. I almost didn't go through with it. It was a long shot, you know."

"What changed your mind?"

Jane smiled weakly. "I couldn't think of anything that had any better chance of working. So, when we'd all finished our desert, I just went ahead with it . . . "

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

Seasons House, Formal Dining Room: W-Day Minus 142

"I must check on something in my office, ladies," Jane said as she delicately folded her napkin. "Melanie? Since it is Darla's turn to help Marie in the kitchen, I would like you to entertain our guest in the music room until I can rejoin you."

"Yes, Ma'am," the beskirted boy said quietly before turning silver-gray eyes toward Audrey. "Would you please follow me, Miss Rockwell?"

Giving Jane a 'be-it-on-your-head' look after Melanie had turned her head, Audrey rose from her own seat. "Sounds lovely, Melanie, but could you please call me Audrey? 'Miss Rockwell' makes me sound as old as Ms. Thompson."

The pair walked down the front hall and into the darkly lit room. Melanie palmed a switch and the crystal chandelier flared to life.

"My, that's better," Audrey said, wondering just what the hell she was supposed to do with Jane's cross-dressed student. *Well, Darryl said I was supposed to compliment her, so. . . ,* "I really do like that color on you, Melanie. Blondes are lucky that way. I could never wear that color as well as you do."

Something strange flashed in the girl-boy's eyes, something dark and cold. "Look, she's not here, so you can quit with the oh-so-nice comments, okay? You arrived on the same train as I did."

*Uh oh,* Audrey thought. "Umm, I beg your pardon. I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bull! You know I'm a boy under all this junk, just like the Thompson woman, Darla and Marie know. I SAW you leave with Darla at the train station and I don't forget seeing drop-dead gorgeous women, okay? Especially when they move like a panther on the prowl. I don't know what this is all about - Ms. Thompson not picking on me during dinner, and you and Darla saying such nice stuff. . ," Melanie paused, her brow lining in a frown. "That's it, isn't it? This is the latest attempt to convince me I can make it on the outside, isn't it?" she asserted with no question implied.

"Well, I can't pretend to know what this is all about," Audrey temporized, trying to think of something to say. "But if by making it you mean looking like a real girl, I honestly don't see what your problem is."

"Right," Melanie snorted.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Audrey reached out and grabbed Melanie's arm right above the elbow and frog-walked her over to the large mirror behind the piano. "Look at us!" she ordered. "Tell me what you see there!"

"You and me," she replied. "I see you and me."

"You're waffling. I see two girls - one kinda big and tall, but the other one is ALSO over-the-top cute. Look at those full, soft lips. Look at that cute face. Look at that slender, graceful figure. You're prettier even than Darla and until tonight, I would have said that was just plain impossible. What I DON'T see is anybody any observer would think is a boy!"

Audrey interrupted her recitation of Melanie's attractiveness when, instead of reassuring the boy-girl, her words had the opposite effect. Melanie's eyes were widening in panic, her pupils wildly-dilated, her breath panting way too quickly.

"She wants me to go out with her. .in public. . like THIS. .and I can't! Do you hear me? I just CAN'T!"

"Hey, Melanie, calm down," Audrey ordered as she put her hand on the student's shoulder. "It's okay. Look, what's the worst that could happen? Go out with her and do what she says. If someone figures out you're a boy, the jig is up. No big deal. No one knows you in this town anyway, and she won't be able to do it to you ever again."

Melanie started shaking visibly, eyes darting frantically about. "Oh, God . . . no . . . he's out there . . . he'll find me . . . I can't . . . lips like that . . . cute, you said . . . he'll say I did it . . . deliberately . . that I WANT . . wanted . .him to. . .again. . oh God, ohGod, ohGodohGodohGod . . ."

Audrey was beside her in an instant. "Hey, easy. Calm down." Thinking quickly, she reached over to the phone and hit the intercom button for the kitchen. "Marie, the music room. I need you!"

"Don't tell Ms. Thompson," Melanie rasped, rationality coming back into the raccoon-like eyes. "Don't tell her, please."

Audrey saw that the girl-boy would go back over the edge unless she promised. "Okay. Just calm down."

"You won't tell, right? You won't? She'll send me away if she decides I can't make it here," her breathing became rasping gasps and the hands she clutched at Audrey's arms were like claws, pincering into the taller girl's flesh on each halting inhalation and exhalation. . . "I'll go to prison if I can't stay here. I've read about it. . It'll be worse there,. . . all of the others there. . .like HIM . . .oh GOD, you CAN'T TELL ANYONE!"

"I won't," Audrey reaffirmed just as Marie, followed closely by Darla and Jane burst into the room. "She had an anxiety attack, Ms. Marie," she said, still rubbing Melanie's back.

"I'll see to her," Marie assured Audrey as she reached down to help Melanie to her feet. "Come along, Melanie. Let's get you into bed."

Jane watched as her friend helped her newest student out of the room, but she didn't say a word until she heard the faint sound of a second floor door opening and then closing. "What happened?" she asked tightly.

"She, I mean, he knew I wasn't an outsider. He saw me leave with Darla from the train station," she told Jane as her mind raced to find a way to deal with this situation. *I told Melanie I wouldn't tell. I'm not even really sure I know what happened. I just think I do. Damn!* "Why is she. . . I mean, he here?"

"I asked you what happened, Audrey."

"I asked you a question, too, Ms. Jane, and I won't answer yours until I am satisfied with your answer to mine."

Jane's immediate angry retort was swallowed before it escaped. For the first time, Audrey saw real pain in the auburn-haired woman's eyes as her shoulders slumped. "I suppose I deserved that, after betraying your own trust."

She straightened though, and said, "But we never revealed your own secrets to anyone not part of the team trying to help you. I must insist, for Melanie's sake, that you tell me what happened - regardless of why Melanie came to us - unless you are willing to fully commit to helping her as part of the team."

"Commit?" asked Audrey.

"Commit to, among other things, doing whatever is necessary to help the student, even if there is a risk - or the certainty - of pain to yourself. That will, as a minimum, include a promise never to reveal Melanie's secrets, not the one that brought her here any more than the nature of her . . . experiences here."

"That's a pretty blank check."

"Yes. It is," Jane declared relentlessly.

Audrey glanced at Darla. There was no hint of demand or duty in Darla's eyes, at least not any demand on Audrey, but there was clear agreement with Jane in her determined expression. After a quick, probably unconscious glance up to where Melanie had disappeared, Audrey looked at Jane and nodded.

"Very well. Melvin has recently become unpredictably violent. He was convicted as a juvenile for assault and battery using a baseball bat with no justification except that his target 'asked for it.' It represented such a radical change that the court felt there was hope that his behavior might be turned around using my program. I am attempting to teach him other ways of dealing with the emotions that fuel the violence."

"And what you do, are doing, really works?" Audrey was dubious.

"It really works, Rocky," Darla said firmly, using Audrey's old nickname to remind her of her own early experiences with Jane. "I've worked with almost a dozen guys over my years with Momma-Jane, and while it's been a close thing once or twice, the program has worked for all of them."

Audrey regarded Darla with cool eyes for a moment, before turning back to face Jane. "I promised her. . him that I would not tell."

Jane nodded, her own eyes shifting momentarily to her child. "Then you have to make a decision, don't you? I cannot help Melvin if I don't know what is behind his anxiety attacks. If I cannot help him, the court-authorized suspension of his sentence to juvenile prison will be vacated."

*That's what he meant about going to prison if Jane can't help him, and if I am right about what he said next, that is exactly the worst place they could send him. DAMMIT!*

"You trusted me once, Audrey. Help me help this child," Jane entreated softly.

Some primordial stress reflex triggered Audrey's abdomen to cramp and stomach to burn as she considered the impossible choice she faced. *Why,* she thought angrily, *why did I ever agree to keep Melanie's secret? If I tell Jane, now, it will be a betrayal, not only of Melanie, but of my own code. I've NEVER broken a promise like that. Never! You can't be a little bit of a liar, a little bit dishonorable. Even when Miss Phoebe Elizabeth was ranting about how despicable I would be if I didn't live up to the name Chastity, even when I was holding everyone away by being the tough-as-nails Rocky, I was always true to what *I* thought was right.*

Audrey stole a glance at Darla, saw the support there - all she had to do was ask, but she couldn't. This was something SHE had to do and so she looked away again. *But you can't just stand by and let Melanie suffer either, Rockwell,* she chided herself. *Just so you can tell yourself you've never told a lie. Or worse, have her sent to prison where they will REALLY destroy her.* The memory of the pretty girl, all but collapsing in panic at her feet, pounded in Audrey's heart and stirred the growing fire in her belly, for all that she looked so cooly elegant to the waiting Jane and Darla. *Right is right, and honor demands . . ,* she tried to convince herself.

And finally failed. *That's garbage and you know it, Rockwell, because Melanie's reasoning is . . . flawed. Her judgment on what is right is . . . wrong. Her demand for secrecy is harming her more - WILL harm her more than the threat that she feared so desperately.*

Though it made her feel like something pure was being shattered within her soul - the sharp-edged shards cutting deeply into things she had considered sacred - Audrey finally looked back to Jane. "I think," she began, her voice sounding very unsteady to her own ears, "that you had better get him in to see a psychological therapist who specializes in dealing with serious adolescent emotional trauma. That kid has been badly molested by a man, and maybe even raped."

Her stomach twisted again, forcing Audrey to take a deep, calming breath before she could haltingly begin to detail the entire encounter. Her continuing internal struggles distracted Audrey, and so she never knew how thankful she should be that the building inferno in Ms. Jane Thompson's eyes had never, ever been directed at her.

 

Chapter 12: Monsters in the Darkness

Seasons House, The Guest Room: W-Hour Minus 2:30

"Darnit, Marie!" Audrey complained for what had to be the tenth time that morning. "I don't see why I have to be cooped up in here for HOURS before the ceremony! I mean, I know there's the special undies and all that stuff, but still, it's just clothes."

"Just clothes, she says," Marie complained, her eyes raised to heaven. "Just clothes. We are discussing a designer gown handmade and hand-fitted to your own lovely body. . .,"

"Don't remind me!" Audrey glared. "Some of the pin-holes in my butt still haven't completely healed."

"A veil made of imported hand-tatted lace," Marie continued as if she had not been so rudely interrupted, "Lingerie that is so light and delicate as to make a woman sigh with pleasure and a man weak with longing and YOU have the temerity to refer to this every young girl's dream ensemble as 'just clothes'?"

"Okay, so they're really nice 'just clothes'," the tall, dark-haired beauty smiled. "But it shouldn't take more than a half hour - three quarters of an hour tops - to get rigged out in all that stuff."

"Mon Dieu, the girl is hopeless. Getting yourself transformed on a day such as this, petite, is not 'getting dressed'. It is an experience - a deeply meaningful and joyous once-in-a-lifetime indulgence - if you are very, very lucky. Do not shortchange yourself."

"Well, if you put it that way," Audrey gave in with only a touch of ill grace. "So, when do we get started?"

"When your Maman returns with the video camera."

That wasn't quite enough to satisfy the girl. Over the past week, she had come to know her Mother in ways that she never had before. Prudence had been afraid her daughter would never be able to forgive her for inflicting Phoebe Elizabeth on the young, impressionable Rocky. However, that fear had evaporated far more easily than anyone had dared to hope for the simple reason that Audrey would never have been sent to Seasons House otherwise.

Audrey knew that she and her Mother were well on the way to becoming friends, and that was wonderful.

Maybe it should have been enough, but the waiting was just too frustrating. Bomber-sized butterflies were starting to strafe her stomach but she was determined NOT going to let that be a problem. Still, an ounce, or several, of prevention would be a very good idea.

"Marie, do you have any ginger ale? I think I could use some."

Marie smiled and conjured a glass of amber liquid, smiling with gentle pride at having anticipated such a need.

"This is a lot different than that time after my nearly disastrous dinner with Melanie, eh, Tante Marie?"

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

Seasons House Stable Apartment: W-Day Minus 141

*It's almost one in the morning,* Marie thought as she stifled an urge to wring her hands as she stood outside the apartment door, *surely she's been in her bed for hours by now.* But Darla had said that Audrey might be brooding after telling Jane about Melanie's anxiety attack - and her thoughts about what had caused it. *And who wouldn't be upset by such evil, I would like to know,* Marie thought, her own emotions still roiling.

Softly, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She considered ringing the doorbell, but refrained in case Audrey was asleep. Hesitantly, she reached out to check the door knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. *Well, I'll just take a quick look to check on her,* she thought, *and come back to talk to her tomorrow if she's asleep.*

Peaking around the now partially opened door, Marie saw a halo of light thrown by a single lamp in the back of the apartment's living room. She crept in and saw Audrey, sprawled on the sofa, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in one hand. Audrey's head came up and shadow-darkened eyes opened, watching Marie. "You're not who I was expecting," the younger woman said flatly.

"And you were expecting?" Marie responded, moving in to where she could get a better look at the girl. She'd shed the pretty bolero jacket, Marie noted, and the heels, but she still wore the black and red dress, although it might never be same again, rumpled as it was. Marie knew just how difficult it could be to get bad wrinkles and sharp creases out of silk.

"Jane or Darla. . .Darryl," Audrey murmured, then motioned to the chair with the glass she held in her hand. "Have a seat."

Marie did as she was bid, and then turned her full attention to Audrey. There were dark-tinted tracks down her cheeks leading to large smudged areas where a careless hand had tried to rub away tears. "Should you be drinking?" she finally asked, if only for something to say.

Audrey looked at the glass she held in her hand quizzically, and then understood the question. "It's ginger ale," she replied. "Flat ginger ale, actually, to soothe my stomach. I'm still in training and besides, I wouldn't know how to work up a good drunk if I wanted one."

That effectively ended any further conversation between the two women for several minutes until Audrey finally asked, "Why are you here?"

"For you," Marie said simply. "We were worried about how you might be feeling. Darla asked me to come down."

"Why not come himself?"

"She's needed for Melanie right now," Marie said. "Diana is very good at what she does with troubled children who've been subjected to real abuse, but Darla understands such things better than anyone else in the house. Jane wanted her nearby in case Melanie. . . well, in case Melanie needed someone who understood."

"In case *Melanie* needed someone," Audrey repeated bitterly. "Darryl is avoiding me again."

Marie bristled momentarily, but then saw the hurt in Audrey's eyes. *Why, she was hoping he'd come to her,* Marie realized. *But why? For him to comfort her or so that she could berate him for putting her in that situation?* "He's not avoiding you, cherie," Marie said staunchly.

"Well, that is what it looks like from my perspective, Marie."

"I think you know better than that, cherie. Darla felt that Melanie might need her and so she stayed, even though she was concerned about you."

"Why should he be concerned about me?" Audrey asked flippantly.

"Why are you sitting here, brooding in the dark?"

"Touche, Marie. So why is he staying up there?"

"Because he feels a commitment to her. Because she trusts her big sister more than anyone else in the house. After the revelations tonight, that trust is something Jane and Diana will need if they are to help her."

"Trust? How can she . . HE trust anyone around here after . . after what I did tonight?"

"Did you break faith with Melanie to help yourself in some way? Or was it truly to help Melanie, to prevent harm to her?" Marie asked gently.

Audrey regarded the French Canadian woman for several moments. Of all the people at Seasons House, she had been the most caring, even in the early days when Audrey had been, she admitted, a real pain in the butt. "You make is sound so simple, Marie. It's not, though. You know something? I've never broken my word in my entire life before tonight."

"As Jane said earlier, you had to make a choice tonight, a difficult one to be sure. Personally, I am positive you made the right one."

"But I told him . . I PROMISED him that I would keep his bloody secret!"

"To what point, cherie?" Marie asked quietly. "Which do you think was the correct decision for Melanie?"

"I spilled it all to Jane, didn't I?" Audrey snapped, eyes glinting in the dim light.

Marie stood and walked over to sit beside the tall young woman. "I believe that is what is called an ethical dilemma, petite. Do you keep your word to a child, or do you take action that, while it breaks your word, might save that child's life?"

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Audrey felt the fire of renewed tears building behind her eyelids.

Marie reached out to stroke the younger woman's sable-deep hair. "No one said life was fair, petite."

That simple touch of sympathy opened Audrey's floodgates. "Oh, Marie, I messed up with Melanie so badly! I should have seen her . . . his distress. I was so insensitive to what my words were doing to her that I let that girl collapse in terror right in front of me, with me pouring fuel on the fire the whole time. No one should have to go through that and I DID it to her!"

*So, here is what has driven you to brood in the dark, cherie. Not so much that you broke your word, but that you broke through Melanie's secret. You saw the agony that was there and thought it was your fault. Well, we will have none of that!* "But why do you care? She's not your child, not your responsibility."

"Because I . . because no one . . . because everyone deserves more love and attention than that, more sensitivity on the part of those around them," the words and self-recrimination poured out of Audrey.

Marie rose and moved over to the sofa, pulling the distraught girl into her arms. "I know, dear. That's the hardest part of Jane's program because you know that they need love, need positive attention, but when they arrive here they aren't ready to accept those gifts. In some cases, the boys need to be tenderized a bit first, and believe me, Jane is very good at that with most boys. This one, however, seems to have different problems and different needs. He requires something more than Jane's usual program, and now, thanks to you, we will see that he gets it."

"I felt like such a beast when I realized just how terrified he was, how frightened I'd made him," Audrey sobbed into Marie's bosom.

"The terror and the fear were already there, dear, put there by someone else. What you did was break inside so that it could come out and stop festering, like lancing a boil. You did well, Audrey, very well."

"You're sure?"

"Without that breakthrough, nothing good could have come of any of this. Now, we can help the boy and find the animal who hurt him."

*Someone did that to Darryl,* Audrey's mind snarled, remembering those dark and frightening revelations of only a few months before. *THAT's why he wanted to be Darla more than he wanted to be Darryl. If that low-life who did that to him was still alive I'd. . I'd. . .* and then words failed her. With an effort, she calmed herself only to have another revelation. "That's why Darla tells Jane other students' confidences, isn't it?

Marie nodded. "In part, anyway, although there is much more to the role of big sister than that. Bad things have to have happened to make children violent or malicious or evil. Sometimes those things can, as they obviously have with Melanie, slip to the surface or fester in the background. Much of the big sister's job is make sure Jane knows such things so that we do not make things worse."

"Darryl told me he had to watch out for . . . suicide, that it was why he had to . . be Darla. I thought it was just, sort of, an excuse."

Marie shook her head. "It's not an excuse, but a real need. Especially tonight, evidently."

"Oh, Marie, I have really messed things up," Audrey cried.

"Nonsense," Marie chided. "I just told you that you did well!"

"Not with Melanie, with Darryl. I . . . I didn't understand. Didn't want to understand. I . . . I owe him a huge apology. I dumped on him for doing exactly the same thing that I did tonight to Melanie."

"Do you regret what you did tonight?"

Audrey batted at the tears with the back of her hand. "I regret that there wasn't any other way to do what had to be done, Tante Marie, which is basically what Darryl said to me when we talked after I found out about Darla. Oh, God, Marie, what if he won't forgive me?"

*Right, like that will happen.* "Oh, I don't think you have anything to worry about there."

"I don't?" Audrey sniffled, looking up with hope and tears shining in her dark eyes.

"Not if I know my boy at all, m'enfant. Just don't make it TOO huge an apology. It will do him good to have to keep working at it."

"Working at what?" Audrey sniffed, still looking up into Marie's suddenly laughing eyes.

"As if you don't know, Miss. As I said, it will do him good to work for it, and it will do you a great deal of good to let him, eh?"

"All right," Audrey replied, not at all certain what she was agreeing to, but feeling too exhausted to worry about it anymore that night. "Melanie is going to be all right?" she asked again.

"Thanks to you, petite. I'm glad you've finally decided to truly become one of us. Now, come along and I will tuck you into bed." Marie ordered as she helped her girl to her feet. "And none of that running tomorrow. . err. . today. You will sleep yourself out and then present yourself, properly dressed, mind you, in my kitchen for breakfast. Got that?"

Audrey let herself be pulled to her feet and then kissed Marie's cheek. "Got it, Tante Marie."

 

 

 

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