Carrie was sitting very uncomfortably the next morning, but she noticed that Julie had no problems at all. That stung. It had been Julie's idea! It was so unfair. She didn't like her best friend very much just then. She would forgive her eventually... but it would take some serious apologizing on Julie's part. Then she heard Julie groan and grip her head. Ah... she had a hangover. Maybe Adrian just hadn't spanked her last night because she was too drunk? Besides, Carrie would take a spanking over a hangover any day.
"Good morning, Julie," she said loudly, engulfing her friend in a hearty hug.
"Go away," Julie moaned. "Quietly. Please... just let me die in silence."
"Feeling a little hung over?" Carrie asked, still speaking in a loud voice.
"Carrie, enough of that," Tom warned. Carrie rolled her eyes, but she obeyed. Her irritation with her girlfriend wasn't enough to risk a spanking from her boyfriend. "I'll have another cup of coffee, kind sir," she said.
Tom kissed her forehead, then refilled her cup. "Hurry up, brat. We don't want to be late."
"Aw, kissy, kissy, kissy," Jason groaned. "The next internship, you have to bring an equal number of girls and boys. This is killing me!"
The other boys laughed heartily, although Carrie's face flushed scarlet.
"Tom, Julie and I will come over later. She's not feeling well this morning, and we have some things to discuss. You go ahead without us."
Tom nodded. "Take your time. Okay folks, let's lock and load!" He opened the passenger door for Carrie, and waited for her to climb in before he fastened her seat belt. "Don't ever sit in the back again," he said quietly. Then he softened his command with a single word. "Please."
Carrie gave him a tremulous smile. "Yes, sir."
"Good girl. You're learning."
"You brat!"
"That's colonel brat to you."
"Yes, sir, brat sir, Colonel brat, sir!"
Tom laughed as he started the engine. "Catch you later," he called out the window.
"He's going to spank her now, isn't he," Carrie said quietly.
"Don't you think he should?"
She shifted awkwardly in her seat. "I was rather annoyed that she hadn't been spanked last night. It was her idea, after all!"
"And you didn't have to listen to her. It was your idea to go along with it."
She nodded. "I know."
"So, are we good?"
She smiled brightly. "Very good."
"Good."
Then Carrie turned away. But what about her big lie?
Adrian poured Julie another cup of coffee and offered her some aspirin. "You drink much?" he asked.
"Not like that. I hate the hangovers."
"I did, too. I haven't been drunk like that in years. It's pretty juvenile. I expected more from you."
"Well, sorry to disappoint you," she snapped.
"You disappointed yourself. Why don't you like yourself?"
"I'm fine. Just leave me alone, will you?"
"Can't do that. You see, I care about you. And I want to know why you're exhibiting such self-destructive behavior. Was it an old boyfriend? Were your parents cruel? Talk to me, Julie."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I can see we're going to have to do this the hard way," he said, moving her coffee out of the way.
"No!" she shouted, but too late. Too slowly. He had her up out of her seat and over his lap so fast, she didn't know how he did it. Suddenly she was face down and dangling above the ground, as he sat on top of the picnic table. She felt very unbalanced, the blood rushed to her pounding head ache, and she thought she might be sick. "Please, don't do this now," she begged.
"The time to talk is over. I asked you a simple question. You brushed me off. That's not the way to communicate, princess. So here it is!" With that, he brought his hand down swiftly across her pajama bottoms, which offered very little protection. A moment later, he removed the pajama bottoms entirely.
"No, no, don't do this! Stop it!" Julie screamed.
Adrian laughed. "This is for not answering me, Julie baby. We won't get to the spanking you've earned for vandalizing my tires until later. I've got all day, sweetheart. The question is, how long can your bottom last?"
He spanked her hard, remembering that the first spanking he'd given her had been rather severe, and she'd taken it well. Some folks tolerated a higher level of pain, and Julie's was pretty near spectacular. For that reason, he'd come well prepared. He'd brought out her hairbrush earlier, and his belt, and a couple of wooden spoons. He was no dummy - why make his hand suffer as much as her bottom? After a few dozen warm up slaps, he started with the spoon. Julie kicked and screamed, but it was good for her. She had so much bottled up inside. He was glad there were no other campers in the campground and the old woman who owned it was mostly deaf. He went through both wooden spoons, the hair brush, and then started with his belt before he felt the change come over Julie. She relented. She broke down and sobbed with sincere feeling. She submitted to him, no longer resisting her punishment, but accepting it, and even welcoming it.
"We're almost done here for now, Julie," he said gently. "Ten more, and then we'll talk. But if I don't like your answers, we'll come right back here. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she sobbed.
"Yes, what?"
She didn't answer fast enough, so he reinforced his words with a flurry of hard smacks to the backs of her thighs.
"Yes, sir! Yes, sir, I understand!" she screamed.
"You have a lot of spirit, Julie. I love that about you. It drives me nuts, too. Okay, here we go. Ten more."
He gave all ten of the last swats to the backs of her thighs. She was sobbing, but she didn't resist. And then he held her there, still face down over his lap. This had worked before - trying to talk to her face was impossible. So he would talk to her throbbing, well-punished bottom.
"Why are you trying to push me away," he asked.
"I'm not!"
"Wrong answer," he said, delivering ten more swift smacks to her bottom.
"Please stop that," she begged.
"No. Now, answer me."
"I don't know!"
"Wrong answer." Ten more smacks.
"Damn you!"
Ten more smacks. "You know, Julie, that I'm not going to stop. I can do this all day. Can you?"
"I'll talk! I promise! But please let me up... I'm going to be sick!"
"You promise?”
"Yes."
Adrian hoped she meant it, but he let her up. She did look a little green around the gills, too. She ran off towards the restroom, making it only halfway before she doubled over and puked. It was just as well. Now she might feel better. She kept going to the restroom. He expected she'd want to wash her face and compose herself. It wasn't like she could go anywhere - he had the only vehicle, and he would never leave the keys in it again.
She took her own sweet time, but eventually she returned and she did look a bit better. "I need a drink of water," she said first, stalling the inevitable.
"One drink. Then you talk."
"I don't like to talk about myself," she hemmed.
"I figured that out about a month ago."
"We weren't even dating yet!"
"Just because you ignored me, doesn't mean the feeling was mutual. I've been watching you, how you interact with your friends, your classmates. I think that you act all high and mighty to keep people at a distance. You don't like to be hugged, because you might actually start to like it. And the real reason you flattened my tires isn't because you were mad at me, but because you don't trust me. You hoped I'd be so angry I'd give up on you - on us - and you'd feel vindicated, because you'd been right all along. You're unlovable. What I want to know is why?"
"Who gave you an honorary degree in psychology," she snapped.
"You have about two seconds to start talking, or we do it my way," Adrian threatened.
"Just wait! Wait a minute. Okay? Why do you like me, anyway? Even my parents di
dn't like me! My mom, she dumped me with my dad so she could run off with her boyfriend. And Dad, he bought me stuff - tons of stuff, but he never once hugged me. He couldn't hug me. He didn't know how to love anyone- that's why Mom left him. He thought that if he just gave me lots of stuff, it would show that he loved me, but in the end, it was just a lot of stuff. You know! So if I act like a princess, it's because that's what he wanted me to act like! A cold, indifferent princess, that everyone admired, but no one really knew. And that's it! That's all there is. Really. So you see, I'm just not that interesting after all."
She was sobbing hard, barely able to speak. Adrian wrapped her in his arms and comforted her.
"I think you're fascinating, darling. And you didn't tell me anything I hadn't already guessed. But you needed to say it for yourself. You see, when you keep that hidden inside, it has power over you. It seems so much more real, like monsters under the bed. But when you say it out loud, you can hear how silly it sounds, and it loses some of its power."
"I don't understand," she gasped.
"Not yet, you don't. But you will, baby. You will. One day you'll wake up and realize that your dad did the best he could. Maybe he was emotionally crippled. Maybe he was just an idiot. But he tried to show you that he loved you in the only way he knew how. The important thing to remember is that he did love you. In his own way. Your mom was the idiot, to go away and not take you with her. She knew her husband was incapable of expressing himself. Why she thought that would be a good environment for her precious daughter, beats the hell out of me. But I do love you, and I'm more than capable of showing you exactly how I feel about you. I will kiss you, and hold you, and argue with you, and spank you when you have it coming, but I will not ignore you. I promise you that."
They made love then. And he spanked her for vandalizing his tires, and then they made love again. It was past noon before they made it to the fort.
The rest of the week was uneventful. The interns had grown in their skills, sharing their knowledge with confidence and enthusiasm. It tickled Tom to no end that the scariest among them - Chayton - was the favorite among the children. The adults were fascinated by his friend Adrian's skill at the forge. They admired the sculptures he created on the side - although the artwork was definitely postmodern, and not like anything that would have been created in the nineteenth century. He had sold a few pieces as well, giving his fragile artist's ego a much needed boost. Their girlfriends, Julie and Carrie, had behaved themselves and had made it four whole days without a spanking. He was chuckling to himself, wondering if four days was about the maximum they could go. Maybe he'd have to special order a paddle - or ask Adrian to make one for him- out of wood, not iron!
It was late in the afternoon before a tourist said something that burst his happy bubble. She looked a little familiar - a visitor who had been there earlier in the week. "Colonel Burt, if you will, would you give your wife a message for me," she said, smiling brightly. She knew the woman portraying Elisabeth Burt wasn't really his wife, but she wouldn't know that they were romantically involved. "Certainly. What's this about?"
"Well, she asked me to teach her how to spin. It would be very useful, you know, to share that, with the children especially. I used to portray Elisabeth Burt, you know. I was just a volunteer, but I used to come here every summer and I did so love to sit there and spin for hours, answering a thousand questions from the little ones. Anyway, I couldn't teach her while she's working -there were too many interruptions! So I wanted to invite her to my house this weekend. Maybe she could come on Saturday and spend the night? I think after a couple of weekends with me, she'll be a pro. She's so smart! I'm sure she'll catch on quickly."
Tom felt his smile freeze on his face. She'd lied! She'd lied to him, and continued to lie to him! He could almost forgive her for the original lie, lying on her application just to get the position. She hadn't known for sure that she would have had the internship even if she couldn't spin, or couldn't cook, or couldn't even count to ten. Tom liked her, admired her enthusiasm for history and he wanted her on his team. But after she got here, after she got to know him, how could she keep it from him? And worse... what kind of a future could they have, if they couldn't be honest with each other?
"She'll be there bright and early Saturday morning, and she can stay the weekend. I'll pick her up on Monday. How's that?"
The woman smiled and thanked him, then hurried on her way.
He didn't say anything to Carrie that night. She sensed he was upset about something, but he gave her every opportunity to come clean. She remained silent, so he did as well. Two could play that game. Then Saturday morning he told her to pack a bag, they were going in to town. She asked him where they were going, and what were they going to do, and didn't they have to work? They worked six days a week, taking only Sundays off, but here he was planning a getaway for the two of them? Tom didn't answer. He was too angry with her to speak. And hurt that she obviously didn't respect him still.
She climbed onto the front seat, forcing a smile, although in her heart she had to know there was something seriously wrong between them. She waved goodbye to Julie as he drove off. All the way into town she kept trying to talk to him. He let her chatter away mindlessly. Then he pulled up in front of the address the old woman had given him. "Here you are, Carrie," he said, dropping her bag onto the ground. "This woman offered to teach you how to spin. I'll see you on Monday, and then you have some explaining to do."
"Oh, God, Tom, you know!" she cried.
"Yes. I know."
"I'm so sorry-."
"Save it. I don't want to hear your excuses right now. I'm too angry to talk about it. Good bye.” And he drove off, hardening his heart to her tearful pleas.
Carrie shouldered her bag and hobbled to the front door. She wiped her eyes, trying to make a smile appear on her face. Damn him! He shouldn't leave like this - angry with her. They should talk about it! Although, she'd had ample time to do just that, and she'd put it off again and again. How could she tell the man she loved that she had lied? That she was a fraud? That her failures had repeatedly hurt his program, and continued to hurt him. Maybe it would be better for everyone if she just called it quits and went home.
The woman was smiling when she answered the door, but her smile quickly faded. "Oh, honey, what's wrong?"
If she had ignored her, Carrie would have been fine. If she had politely pretended she didn't notice the tears in Carrie's eyes, she might have been able to hold them back, but the woman's caring tone opened the floodgates.
"It's just awful," she said, and poured out her heart to the virtual stranger.
The woman listened to it all without comment. She made a pot of tea, pouring a cup for each of them when it had steeped enough.
"So you care about him," she said, when Carrie had run out of things to say.
Carrie nodded. She wiped her nose on the tissue the woman handed her.
"Well, honey girl, it's a hard lesson to learn, and some folks never learn it. You see, there is no such thing as a little white lie. Lies are ugly things. They are big, and they grow and grow and grow. They swell up the longer they are kept in the dark, like mushrooms growing on a pile of compost, until they are so big that they just explode and cover everyone in a thick layer of disgusting goo. You must never tell a lie - not even a small one - to the man you love."
"But what do I do now? He'll never forgive me."
"He will, if he loves you. Just give him time to cool off. You hurt his pride. He thought he knew you, and you kept this from him. He'll get over it. Now, let's go fix this real fast. I'm going to turn you into a fantastic spinner in no time!"
The woman - Elisabeth, just like Colonel Burt's wife - taught her how to card the raw sheep's wool. The carded wool, when it was rolled from the combs was called a rolag - she had looked it up, because she couldn't remember it herself. Then she showed her how to use a simple drop spindle to turn the rolags into yarn. Carrie’s first yarns were uneven, sometimes too thi
ck, then too thin. Elisabeth had laughed - she did that a lot - and said that fancy spinners had to try hard to make specialty yarns like that, and here she did it naturally. Carrie smiled, she couldn't help it. Elisabeth's eternal optimism was contagious. After several hours, they took their lunch in the garden in the back yard, where Elisabeth showed off her other hobby - a verdant garden bursting with color. She was a master gardener, and even the hot and dry conditions of the harsh Wyoming environment couldn't prevent her flowers from blooming. They returned to the drop spindle, practicing over and over, and by nightfall, even Carrie thought her yarns were looking better. Then Sunday morning Elisabeth let her graduate to the spinning wheel. It was trickier than the drop spindle, because now she had to use her feet as well as her hands, but the spinning wheel produced a better product. By Sunday night, Elisabeth pronounced her a proficient spinner. "You'll know if you're hooked soon enough," Elisabeth explained. "Some folks learn to spin, and then they're done. They're happy enough to buy their yarns in the future. But others, well, they never quit learning. The more they learn, the more they want to know, and they get to enjoying the spinning so much, that they never have time to knit all the lovely yarns they create."
"I can never thank you enough," Carrie confessed.
"You already have, child," Elisabeth said, giving her a grandmotherly hug and kiss. "Just pass along what I taught you. That's thanks enough."
Carrie enjoyed a warm bubble bath that night, and even let her foot get wet. It had mostly healed, although she didn't let her foot soak long enough to soften the scab. She climbed into the guest bed piled high with fluffy pillows and quilts, in spite of the dessert heat, and tried to sleep. Tomorrow she would have to talk to Tom and try to explain why she hadn't been able to tell him the truth. She had no idea what she was going to say... she only hoped that he'd be patient long enough for her to get it out.
Fort Laramie Page 11
