“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going for a ride,” he answered mildly.
“Not on that horse, you’re not!”
“I already asked Dad and he gave me permission.”
“I don’t believe it!”
He shrugged. “Go ask him yourself then.”
“I’ve begged Dad a million times to let me ride him and he’s always said he doesn’t allow anyone to ride Destiny but him. Why would he agree to let a flippin’ 10-year-old do it?”
The gleaming smile was there and then it was gone. “Maybe he thinks I’m better.”
He jumped (small as he was, it was a bit of a leap to get his foot in the stirrup) up into the saddle, touched the horse with his heel and trotted down the lane with Raven following along beside.
She was wearing her official rider outfit as she always did when she was going to the stables - tan pants, white shirt and high riding boots. Her long golden hair was held back with a clasp at the nape of her neck. She felt it put people on notice that she was a professional. Right now, there were tears of frustration in her blue eyes as she watched Rafe ride off on the dancing silver stallion in his holey jeans and tee shirt and old beat-up cowboy boots.
She could go for days at a time, forgetting about Rafe’s very existence. After all, she was in high school, where she got straight A’s as every Vincennes did. She was on the Cheer Squad and had been named Queen of the Harvest Ball. She had her candy apple red PT Cruiser, her 16th birthday present, and a hunk of a boyfriend named Bill, who was two years older than her and the Quarterback on the football team. In addition to her various awards in horse showing, she’d taken her Golden Retriever, Jonquil, to the state competition in obedience and won first place. What was not to love about her life and why would she give much thought to the somewhat mysterious little brother who seemed mostly to drift silently around the periphery of the family? And yet, it seemed like every time she did have cause to think of him, she ended up angry.
It was because he never seemed to have to even frickin’ try to get whatever he wanted. No one would think of Rafe as being demanding. He never yelled or begged or threatened. She tried to think back to remember if she’d ever heard him raise his voice and realized she never had. She doubted if he was even capable of throwing a tantrum and yet if he set his mind to something, it seemed like the obstacles just disappeared magically from his path. Like, how in the hell had he convinced Dad to let him take Destiny when, as she’d told him, she’d begged and pleaded to do the same and been told no every time? It just wasn’t fair. Not that she’d raise a stink about it. Renny was a mostly easygoing father who let his kids have anything they wanted within reason but they all knew, it simply wasn’t acceptable to question his decisions or his authority. Do that, and you’d find you’d lost more than you could ever hope to gain.
Another thing about Rafe that got under her skin was how he didn’t place any importance in the things that meant so much to her. She had watched him with Raven. That dog would do anything Rafe wanted although not once had she ever seen them together on the course she’d set up when she was training Jonquil. He didn’t use any of the traditional commands, just talked to the dog like they were having a conversation. “Come on, Raven, stay beside me now,” and Raven’s nose would practically be glued to his knee. She thought if Rafe told Raven to “wait”, he’d stay where he was until he starved to death.
She’d told Rafe once that he could do with Raven as she’d done with Jonquil, enter him in competition and win ribbons and trophies.
“Why would I want to do that, Sis?” he’d asked. “I only want Raven to do what I tell him for my sake. I don’t care if anyone else see’s him doin’ it.”
She usually never said the ef word - freakin’ and flippin’, yes, but not the actual word itself - but that day, she’d said, “fuck you, Rafe.” She said it again right now, although he couldn’t hear her - “fuck you, Rafe.”
* *
Laney wouldn’t have known how to do anything if it hadn’t been for Rafe. He was the one who first showed her how to brush her teeth and made sure she did it every morning and every night. He told her she needed to put on clean underwear every single day. He helped her to match her colors so her outfits looked nice. He brushed her long blonde hair and pulled it back out of her face and fastened it with barrettes. He was the one who taught her how to ride her bike and to do things on the computer and play tennis and swim. She thought lots of times about how awful and lonely her life would have been without him.
*
Because just about every bit of love or affectionate touching or concern about her that she’d ever experienced had stemmed from Rafe, Laney found it not a bit surprising that he had introduced her to this new wonderful thing as well. It was like Christmas every night. She couldn’t wait until they’d both had their showers and she could come over to his bed. Like he had promised, they’d done other things after the first time. When he had put his mouth down there, as she had done to him, she felt like it sent her shooting up to the moon and then like she was floating back down on the softest cloud in the sky. Sometimes he teased her by going so slow, she thought she couldn’t stand waiting any longer.
“Please, Rafe,” she would beg, “please.”
“Say pretty please, I love you, Rafe.”
“Pretty please! I love you, Rafe!”
And then he would make it happen and she would just explode with happiness.
*
He told her he was going to fuck her on her 9th birthday.
“Why not now, Rafe? I want you to do it now.”
“No, it’s going to be a treat for both of us for your 9th birthday. Then I’ll put myself inside you. It will give you something to look forward to because it will be so good.”
*
Her 9th birthday was not for another year. By doing it the way he did it, he made it seem like the Holy Grail.
* *
Of course, daily life went on for both of them. She still loved school and she was good at it as all the Vincennes kids were. She was on the honor roll every time. None of them were as smart as Rafe though. He was put in the Gifted and Talented class in third grade and then jumped a grade and then another, until he was in 7th grade when he was only 10. Some of the teachers talked about how his i.q. was off the charts and maybe he was a genius. He was better at playing the guitar than Gabe and better at drawing than Denis. He was better at baseball and football than Morgan and better at shooting than Wyatt. He was better at tennis than Jocelyn and better at riding than Annecy. It still rankled a little about what Miss Dee had said about him though and he tried to work at being more personable. He’d been called arrogant more than once and he tried to figure out why people would say that about him. He’d even asked his teacher one time after someone had said it.
“What about me would make someone think I’m arrogant? I don’t try to lord it over anyone. I don’t try to rub it in when I do well at something. I’m never mean to anyone.”
Privately, the teacher herself thought she might have described Rafe as arrogant but when she tried to put her finger on why, she was at a loss. It was true what he said. He wasn’t one of those kids who tried to make himself the center of attention and he never boasted about his accomplishments and probably of all the elite group of which he was nominally a part, he was the nicest to the less popular ones. In fact, he was as friendly to the students who were called low-lifes as he was to the movers and shakers, (although she’d noticed that he wasn’t really close to anyone in either group). He wasn’t judgmental about race or sexual orientation or disability or socioeconomic background.
She finally decided it was just something about the way he held himself apart and that look he had that said he didn’t really care what anyone else thought of him, that they were welcome to take him or leave him as he was and it didn’t much matter to him one way or the other.
That’s finally what she told him.
“I g
uess it’s because you seem like you don’t care what people think, Rafe, and everyone wants to believe people care what they think.”
“I don’t care what they think, Mrs. Harper, if they’re right, but I don’t like being tagged with a label that’s wrong.”
“I don’t know how to tell you to make it any different, Rafe.”
He shrugged and then smiled that devastating but quickly disappearing smile. “Guess I’ll just have to live with it then, huh?”
He was only 10 but she felt a little thrill go down her spine at that smile. She almost called him back to tell him that it might go a long way toward changing people’s minds about him but she didn’t. She was afraid what he might do with it if he ever found out how potent it could be.
*
His coaches loved his capacity for speed and stealth. You could pass him a football and the next thing anyone knew, he’d be crossing the goal line. Or give him a basketball and he’d be sinking one while the other team was still looking for him. Or he’d hit a single and turn it into a triple before anyone tracked his location on the baseball field. From the first day he started playing junior league sports, he never knew what it was like to have to sit on the bench.
* *
It was her 9th birthday. As usual, the only reason she had a party was because of Rafe. Once again, he’d tracked down his mother.
“Next week is Lane’s 9th birthday, Mom. I remember years when you even forgot to give her a cake or buy her a present. Don’t you think it’s time she had a party, maybe have some of the kids from her class over?”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Rafie, but I don’t know who is in her class. I don’t suppose you could give me some names?”
Silently, he handed her the list he’d gotten from Lane’s teacher.
Magdelene had invited all the students in Lane’s class and their parents and her teacher. She had a red and white striped tent put up in the back yard and hired clowns and a magician and had the stable hands bring up the horses for rides. There was a big banner that said “Happy 9th Birthday, Laney” and games to play and a huge cake with her name on it in red and clumps of scarlet balloons tied everywhere. And her gift was Rafe’s idea - her very own horse, a little palomino Arab mare named Lisbon. It was one of the most joyous days of her life. Rafe, watching, smiled wryly - once you could get their Mother’s attention, you could count on her to do it up right.
No matter what else was going on though, Lane kept thinking about being in bed that night with Rafe and about what he was going to do. Each time she thought about it, she got a tingling sensation in her belly. Half of her hated for the day to end but the other half of her couldn’t wait for it to be over.
And finally, it was. She’d had her shower and he was in the shower now. She was in his bed with her nighty on. She didn’t even wear underpants to bed anymore. Finally he came into the room, in just his shorts. First, he walked over and got something out of his dresser drawer and then he sat on the side of the bed.
“I saved my allowance to get you a birthday present,” he said handing her a small gift-wrapped box.
She opened it to reveal a ring with a heart-shaped sapphire in a gold mounting. It wasn’t a huge stone but it wasn’t tiny either.
“It’s your birthstone.”
“Oh, Rafe, it’s so beautiful. I’ve never had a ring before.”
“Put it on and make sure it fits.”
She slipped it onto her right ring finger. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t ever want you to take it off, Lane, not ever. It means you belong to me. You’ve belonged to me since the day you were born and you always will. Say it, Lane, I want to hear you say it.”
“I belong to you, Rafe.”
He grinned. “Okay, now that that’s taken care of, let’s have some fun.”
He stood up and dropped his pants on the floor, then got into bed beside her. He kissed her neck and tickled her nipples and ran his fingers along the insides of her thighs and across her mound, lightly, teasingly, until she was saying, “I can’t wait any longer, Rafe, I can’t wait any longer!” And then he got on top of her and put himself inside her and feeling him there, almost like a part of her, was the best thing yet. She just started going off like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.
“Wrap your legs around me, Lane, and come up to meet me.”
As he moved back and forth inside her, the fireworks got bigger and louder and brighter until they were melting into one another.
“Oh, Rafe, that’s so wonderful!”
“Shhhh, Honey.”
She felt him moving in and out harder and harder and then she felt him push extra hard until he gave a little groan and slumped down on top of her, breathing hard.
“Are you all right, Rafe?”
“I’m perfect, Laney.”
Finally, he got up and went into the bathroom, bringing back a warm wet cloth to wash her.
“You bled just a little. Did it hurt?”
“If it did, I didn’t notice because it felt so good at the same time.”
He smiled. “That’s what’s supposed to happen. It’s supposed to feel good.”
“It did, Rafe. I loved it. It was my best present ever.”
“Do you love me, Lane?”
“You know I love you more than anything.”
“Tell me how much.”
“Whatever the highest number is in the world, Rafe, I love you way more than that.”
*
The next day, Saturday, he told her they needed to talk.
“I think we’d better tell the folks we want to move into our own bedrooms.”
“But I like being in here with you right next to me, Rafe.”
“I know but we’re getting too old to be sleeping in the same room. I’m almost twelve. That’s too old to be sleeping in a nursery with my sister. I’ll tell them you still have nightmares sometimes and to put us next door to each other.”
“I’d rather just stay the way we are.”
“I know, but we can’t. Don’t worry, Sweetie. Don’t I always fix it so it’s okay?”
*
“Mom, I think it’s time that Lane and I had our own bedrooms. We’re getting a little too old to still be in the nursery together.”
“Why, yes, Rafe, I suppose you’re right. But where can we put you? I hate to take Morgan and Wyatt’s rooms even though they don’t come home that often. (Morgan was an attorney now, living in New York, and Wyatt was a Lieutenant in the Army).”
“No, I don’t want to take anyone else’s room. How about those two little rooms at the end of the hall with the bathroom in between that used to be the nurse’s bedroom and sitting room? They’re small but they’re big enough for us. We’ll have our privacy but they have that door between them so I can go settle Lane down if she has one of her nightmares.”
“Oh, Rafie, those aren’t very nice compared to your brothers’ and sisters’ rooms but if you think they’ll work, I guess it would be all right.”
“I think they’ll be fine, Mom.”
“Well, why don’t you stay where you are until I can get the painters and flooring people in and at least you’ll have fresh colors and new carpet and I’ll take you and let you pick out some new furniture and I’ll buy you each a television and a computer and whatever else you need. I really can’t believe we left you in the nursery this long.”
“That would be great, Mom.”
*
“We’ve got a reprieve,” he told her that night. “It will be at least two weeks before the rooms are painted and carpeted and the new furniture is delivered. In the meantime, why don’t you come on over here?”
She flew over to his bed and dived under the covers with him.
*
It really was better when they finally got moved into their new rooms. For one thing, they were so much prettier. Hers had pale yellow walls and white lacy curtains and a puffy yellow comforter. The carpet was pale green plush. She picked out white furniture pa
inted with pastel flowers - a canopy bed and a dresser and a shelf unit that held her new television and computer. It felt comforting to be in a small, cozy place with just all her own things instead of the vast impersonality of the nursery. When they were furniture shopping, her Mom let her buy some pretty pictures for her walls. One was of a porch with white wicker furniture and pink roses climbing up a trellis on one side and another was of two white Persian kittens sleeping on a patchwork quilt.
Rafe’s room had dove gray walls and a pewter and navy patterned rug and walnut furniture. He had one of his own drawings, their sailboat on the bay, on the wall and that was all. It seemed sort of bare to her but she’d asked him if he was going to add more stuff and he said no, he’d leaving the nesting to her.
What was best of all about these rooms was that they could be locked from the inside (unlike the nursery but, of course, you wouldn’t put inside locks on a nursery) so they didn’t have to worry about anyone coming in the door without warning them, an admittedly unlikely possibility, but still. Being able to lock the doors made them both feel more secure.
He liked to tease her in public. If they were swimming, he’d sneak his warm hand down her bathing suit and massage her bottom and if they were riding, he’d move up beside her and run his finger between her legs and even at the breakfast table, sometimes he’d give her upper thigh a light squeeze. It always had the effect on her of making her go completely still, anticipating the next touch, although it usually never came. Even in church, he’d lean over and whisper in her ear, “do you want me to fuck you tonight, Lane?” and she’d have to force herself to just stare straight ahead. He’d taught her the terminology of sex by now. The thing between his legs was his cock and the place he put his cock when he fucked her was her pussy. When she sucked his cock, that was called a blow job. He told her not to use those words to anyone else though. Around grown ups, she still had to say penis and vagina. Cock and pussy and fucking and blow jobs were only for when they were doing things together.
* *
He sighed. “It would be nice if Mom or one of the girls would have this talk with you but I guess it’s not going to happen so I suppose it’s up to me. Do you know anything about menstrual periods, Lane?”
Sociopath? Page 3
