There were occasional instances when he took some time away from his responsibilities to Lane. (Although he didn’t really consider them responsibilities but things he chose to do).
Even as a toddler, the family’s attempts to keep track of him were relatively ineffectual. One sister or another would be told by Magdelene to “watch Rafe” but watching Rafe was impossible. Take your eyes off him for one minute and he simply drifted away, like smoke.
A search would be mounted and eventually the three-year-old would be discovered squatted in the back of one of the horse stalls, communing, they guessed, with its resident. Or he’d be napping in the cabin of one of the boats. At age four, he made it all the way up to the Cabin by himself where they found him rocking in one of the chairs on the porch. And at five, he took a pirogue up an inlet to fish.
Renny whipped him for that one, whipped him hard with his belt.
“Don’t you ever take a boat out by yourself again. You don’t know where you’re at and you could get lost back in those creeks and swamps. Do you understand me, Rafe?”
He simply looked at his father with tearless eyes, having not made a sound during his spanking.
“But I always know exactly where I’m at, Dad.”
“I don’t care!” roared Renny, who hardly ever lost his temper and resented this contrary child for causing him to do it now, “just do as I say, have you got that?”
“How old do I have to be?” Rafe asked.
“I’ll let you know,” said Renny through gritted teeth.
Rafe was as comfortable wandering in the night as during daylight. He’d been described as cat-like and it was as if he could see in the dark like a cat too. His brothers would come home from a date and find the little boy sitting on the back step at 3:00 a.m.
“What are you doing up at this time, Rafe? You should be in bed.”
“I’m listening to the dark.”
Eventually, they accepted it as a lost cause, trying to keep track of him. He came and went as he pleased and since he always made it home safely, they quit worrying. As he got older, he traveled farther and stayed longer.
He read far above his age and his favorite reading was about the techniques of surviving on one’s own. He and Raven would disappear into the woods with only some string and a knife. A few times, they got pretty hungry when his awkward early attempts at setting a snare or spearing a fish failed but as time went by, he learned to do those things competently, as well as building a lean-to that would keep out the rain and starting a fire without matches. He taught himself, by means of books, to smoke his extra food and to cook it in a fire pit. He became an authority on what marine life and flora and fauna and even bugs and worms were safe to eat in an emergency.
By the time he was 9, he’d added a gun to his small supply kit. (A hand gun because he liked to travel light and a long gun was too heavy.) He’d snagged the Smith and Wesson revolver from Renny’s gun safe, knowing it would mean another serious thrashing if he got caught but willing to take the chance). He’d become an expert at tracking, being familiar with prints and scat and recognizing wallows and antler rubs and urine sprays. Although, he was a dead shot, he didn’t kill much that he tracked. He just wanted to prove to himself that he could if he had to.
He asked on every birthday and when he was eight, Renny finally said, “okay, okay, take the damn boat” so then he could embark on a more far-roaming exploration of his world.
He always warned Laney when he was going to be gone for a while. “I’ll be back in a couple of days, maybe three.”
“I hate it when you’re not here, Rafe. Why do you have to go?”
“Sometimes, I just have to get away from people. Not you, Honey. Everyone else. Where I don’t have to keep my guard up all the time.”
She didn’t understand it but she had to accept it because that was just Rafe.
* *
Because of when her birthday fell, Lane didn’t get to start kindergarten until she was six but this morning she would be getting on the big yellow bus with the other kids. She was beside herself with excitement. She’d hardly left Heron Point in her life and she almost only got to go to the basement or out on the grounds when Rafe took her. She barely felt like she knew her older brothers and sisters. Sometimes she’d meet them in a room and they’d ruffle her hair and ask how she was doing but not like they really cared. But now she was finally going to get to go off into the world like everyone else.
Last week her mother had taken her on a shopping spree and she had all new clothes. It had taken Rafe to make that happen. He’d gone to Magdelene and reminded her that Lane would be starting school soon and she had almost nothing fit to wear.
“Most of her things are raggy and too small, Mom. Unless you want to be ashamed of her being a Vincennes, you probably need to buy her a new wardrobe.”
Once it was brought to her attention, Magdelene was happy to take her youngest daughter shopping.
“Oh, Rafe, you’re absolutely right, Darling. I guess I just hadn’t realized Laney was growing up so fast and here she is five years old already.”
“Six, Mom, she’s six.”
“Six, then, and starting school. My last baby. I’ll take her this week.”
Of course, Magdelene had spared no expense so Laney had all new jeans and tops and dresses and skirts and sweaters and blouses and sox and underwear and shoes and a new winter coat, red with gold buttons!
Rafe helped her pick out her first school outfit - a denim jumper embroidered with flowers on the bib with a knit pink top and her new pink sneakers. She held his hand walking to the end of their lane and sat beside him on the bus. Once at school, he took her to her room.
“Remember, your room is 110 and your teacher is Miss Prince. You’ll like her. She’s nice. I’ll meet you when it’s time to go home and make sure you get on the right bus.”
She loved it, oh, she loved it. It was so much fun being around all the other kids and Rafe was right, Miss Prince was so nice. She loved learning things. The only stuff she knew was what Rafe had ever taught her. Thankfully, he’d made sure she was able to tie her shoes and write her name and say her alphabet and count and tell time or she would have been embarrassed since the teacher tested them to make sure they all knew how to do those things. She never thought to wonder how he had learned to do them.
When the morning was over, he met her like he said he would and watched her until she was safely on the big bus. She couldn’t wait until the next day when she’d get to come back again!
* *
She woke him up crying. He looked over at the clock and saw it was after 1:00 a.m.
“What’s the matter, Honey?” he asked drowsily.
“E-e-everyone is going to h-h-h-hate me, Rafe,” she sobbed.
“Why are they going to hate you, Laney?”
“C-c-cause I’m s’posed to bring c-c-cupcakes for Refreshment Day but Reba left early. S-s-she was gone when I got h-h-home and you know it w-w-wouldn’t do any good to ask M-m-mom.”
For a moment, they both pondered the thought of the elegant Magdelene whipping up a batch of cupcakes but neither could begin to grasp that exotic concept.
“No,” he finally said, “Mom wouldn’t have baked them herself but she most likely would have had Bannings deliver some.”
“I never t-t-thought of that. It’s just g-g-going to be so a-a-awful tomorrow,” she wailed.
He got up and patted her on the back. “Just go back to sleep, Sweetie. I’ll make sure you have cupcakes in the morning.”
“Will you, Rafe, really?”
“Yes, Lane, go to sleep”, which she did in complete assurance that Rafe always did what he said he would do.
He padded down the stairs barefoot and in his blue-striped pajama bottoms. Flipping the switch inside the door, he looked across the enormous kitchen. “Bloody ‘ell, Mate,” he muttered to himself, “you better be getting some organ-o-za-tion goin’ or you’ll be here all night.”
Okay, wh
ere to start? First, make a list of all the stuff he knew he’d need. Number one would probably be a recipe since he didn’t have a clue how to make freakin’ cupcakes. Surely, Reba had cookbooks around here somewhere. She couldn’t simply remember every dish she prepared, could she?
He went over to the small built-in desk with the phone above it where he knew there was a pad of paper and a pen. He started his list.
*
Recipe
Cupcake pans
Little paper cup thingies
Spoon
Big bowl
Mixer
Flour, sugar, eggs (what else?)
*
That was all he was sure of. But how to find it all? He had limited experience with this room, mostly only checking the walk-in cooler for something to drink or to make a sandwich. He looked around it now. There appeared to be acres of cherry cupboards and granite countertops and slatey looking ceramic tile floors and stainless steel appliances. He guessed the best way was just to start at one end and work his way through every cupboard, drawer and countertop until he located everything he needed. He knew most of the food stuff was kept either in the large pantry or the cooler. He’d save those for last. He needed that damn recipe. It could be any recipe as long as it was for cupcakes, he didn’t care - white, yellow, chocolate or cherry - he didn’t think it took much to please first graders.
He began over by the door to the laundry room and investigated every nook and cranny of the kitchen, methodically assembling the items on his list as he found them. After half an hour, he had all of it - the spoon from a drawer by the sink, the bowl from an upper cupboard next to the stove and the cake pans from the cupboard below, the mixer on a bottom shelf in the dish pantry (three complete sets of fine china along with other small appliances). And, last, the recipe. He’d been looking for cookbooks but it turned out Reba kept her recipes in a file box on the desk, which he finally noticed, after looking everywhere else. That enabled him to go to the food pantry and the cooler for all the required ingredients.
*
It was typical of Rafe to simply do whatever needed to be done himself rather than taking his problem to anyone else. For one thing, no one in his life had ever offered much assistance so he’d been forced to become self-sufficient early on. And that played into his basic nature anyway. His natural instinct was to involve other people as little as possible in his affairs, so by the time he was nine, he was more than confident that he could figure out how to make cupcakes.
He stirred and mixed and filled his cupcake liners 2/3 full, just like the card for “Chocolate Cupcakes with Vanilla Buttercream Icing” said. Then he put them in the oven (pre-heated to 350 degrees) for 22 minutes. That was the worst part because it was almost 3 o’clock by then and he had to keep telling himself to stay awake. He wouldn’t want to have gone through all this and then burn up the results of his labor.
He mixed up the icing while the cupcakes were cooling. After they were frosted, just for the fun of it, because he had found them while he was rummaging around looking for everything else, he decorated the tops with multi-colored sprinkles.
*
He knew Magdelene kept all her gift-wrapping materials in a large closet down the hall from the master bedroom. The shelves were filled with rolls of wrapping paper and spools of ribbon and different shades of tissue paper and decorative sacks and flattened boxes of all sizes. He poked around until he found one that looked to be the perfect size for two dozen cupcakes.
Then he washed and dried and put away everything he’d dirtied. No one would ever have known he’d even been there if it wasn’t for the white box on the mixing island with Laney’s name written across the top.
It was after 4:00 when he crawled back into bed.
*
Lane was patting him on the shoulder. “Rafe, aren’t you going to get up? Your alarm keeps going off. You must keep hitting the Snooze button.”
“Yeah, okay, I’m getting up right now.” Blearily, he opened his eyes.
“Did you get my cupcakes done?”
“They’re in the kitchen but the next time you need something, Sweetie, tell me about it a little sooner, okay?”
* *
They were still in the nursery. They should have been moved out long ago to their own rooms but as usual, no one remembered to do it so they just kept on the way it was. They were used to being together now and neither was particularly interested in being in a room alone.
* *
When he was nine and she was seven, he told her to come into bed with him. He said he wanted to try something and he thought she’d like it.
“Take your panties off first.”
She was puzzled. “Take my pants off, Rafe?”
“Yes, Honey.”
She complied as she always did when he told her what to do.
“Lay here beside me on your back,” he whispered, “and spread your legs a little farther apart.”
When he had her in the position he wanted her in, he pulled her nightgown up to her waist and then put his hand on the spot between her legs. She instantly felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through her groin and clear up into her stomach.
“Oh,“ she breathed, “what are you doing?”
He began gently rubbing her. The darts of exhilaration increased in number and intensity until finally, she was overcome by a flood of pure joy.
“Oh, Rafe, oh, Rafe.”
He put his hand lightly over her mouth. “Shhh, Sweetie, you can’t make any noise. Does it feel good, Laney?”
“Yes, yes,” she said into his ear, “do it again, Rafe!”
He grinned. “No, Laney, once a night is all you get but now you have to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Give me your hand.”
When she did, he put it on his hard penis. Of course, he’d seen her naked many times but she’d never seen him that way. She was shocked. “What is it, Rafe?”
“Girls and boys are different, Lane. This is what boys have instead of what you have. It’s called a penis. Pull the covers back and look at it.”
It was even more surprising when she saw it sticking straight up below his belly.
“I want you to put it in your mouth, Laney. That’s what will make me feel good the way I made you feel.”
Because she had such pure trust in him, she didn’t even hesitate. She wanted to make him happy.
“Now move your mouth up and down on it - suck it, but easy.”
Because he hadn’t reached puberty yet, of course, he didn’t have a real ejaculation but that didn’t mean having her mouth moving on him didn’t take him to a state of bliss.
“Can we do it again tomorrow night, Rafe?”
“Yes, Laney, and other things besides.”
He was young but he knew a lot about sex, from reading, from watching movies (he’d figured out how to over-ride the v-chip on the nursery t.v. quite some time ago) and from listening in on his older brothers’ conversations. He thought he’d been patient, waiting until she was seven.
“Laney?”
“What?”
“You can’t ever tell anyone. They wouldn’t approve and they’d make us stop. So it has to be our secret if you want to keep doing it. Do you understand that, Lane?”
“I understand. I’ll never, ever tell anyone, I promise. Can I stay here with you tonight instead of getting in my own bed, Rafe?”
“No, slip on over there now, Lane, and don’t forget to put your panties back on.”
*
She discovered she could get a least a little bit of that jolt of pleasure just by thinking about Rafe putting his hand on her privates. It wasn’t the whole big thing, of course, just a dart that went zipping from where she peed up into her belly. And when she thought about it, she could feel herself getting wet down there.
“Elena, what are you daydreaming about? I’d like to have your attention here if you don’t mind.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Dee.”
* *
“Well, I have my last Vincennes in class this year. What a mixed bag they’ve been. Morgan and Wyatt were both good students and charming boys. Mariel was a prissy britches little snob. Denis and Gabriel were smart and nice enough, both artistic types. Jocelyn was a sweetheart and Annecy was a little ray of sunshine. Of course, you know how I felt about Rafe. This last one, Elena, is a bit of a dreamer but she tries to please.”
“Yes, I have Rafe this year and I see some of what you felt about him although I don’t think it’s as bad as you made it seem. Still, he does remind me a little of a panther, one you’re not quite sure is all the way tame.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not domesticated at all, Stuart. I think he just puts on a front.”
“I’ll tell you something about Rafe Vincennes though, Dee. I think by the time he grows up a little more, you’re going to be way in the minority of women who don’t consider him compelling.”
“And I think those who do are going to discover he’s a dangerous person to give your heart to.”
“Well, he’ll be long gone from here and I expect we’ll have forgotten all about him by then, Dee.”
* *
When he turned 10, he asked his father if he could start riding one of the Arabs.
“Don’t you think you’re a little young for an Arab, Rafe?”
“Dad, have you ever seen me ride?”
“Well, I’m not sure I ever have, Rafe.”
“No, Dad, I’m not sure you ever have either but I’m the best of all of us.”
“You are?”
“Yes, I am. One of two things, Dad - either come and watch me and let me prove it or take my word for it.”
“I guess if you say you can do it, I believe you. Which one are you thinking of, Rafe?”
“Destiny.”
“Destiny’s quite a handful, Son. I hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew.”
“I’m not, Dad, trust me.”
It pissed his sister, Annecy, off big-time. She was 16 now and considered the horseperson in the Vincennes family. She had a roomful of trophies and blue ribbons to prove it.
The first time they were at the stable together and he’d brought out the spirited dapple-gray stallion to saddle, she was shocked.
Sociopath? Page 2
