by Mimi Barbour
Her yearnings spread like wild vines interweaving themselves around his heart. She interested him like no one else ever had, but he stopped the words, bit down on his lower lip, and swallowed those treacherous urges to let her confide.
Silence grew, eventually becoming comfortable, togetherness carried to a whole new level. Sitting and petting the sleeping puppy, watching the world go by, two souls merged for a short time, melding in a way very few people ever have the fortune to experience.
The room darkened as the night sky slowly replaced daylight. Shadows loomed and streetlamps came on to throw their auras around people meandering along the sidewalks. Sounds of voices, though muted, added a sense of fellowship to the scene. It broke into their aloneness.
Total relaxation engulfed the man who slouched comfortably in the easy chair, embracing a warm furry body and sheltering a tortured young soul.
“Troy? I’ve respected your need to recuperate from today’s disaster, and I’ve stayed in the background tonight as much as I could. But since we’ll be together for another week, I just have to share. I can’t possibly keep this secret hidden for seven more days.”
“Sure you can.”
“I’m serious, Troy. There’s a huge crisis looming in my life, and if I don’t tell someone, I’ll bust. And you’re my perfect someone.”
“I’m nobody’s perfect someone. I don’t even want to be a someone—”
“Troy, please.”
“I know, Dani. Look, I’ve been hoping you’d work out whatever your predicament is on your own, but I feel the buzzing going on in your—my—head, and it’s constant. Your anxiety echoes loud and clear, sweetheart. It’s just that I’m not sure I really want to know what it is. For a guy who keeps to himself, this sharing of my body has been tough enough for me to get used to, but sharing emotions—”
“Quit talking. You’re just hoping you’ll stop me. I want to get your feedback on my situation. I need help, Troy, and you’re the only person I can ask.”
“Can’t you go to your uncle, or ask your minister, or tell a girlfriend, when you get back on Saturday? God forbid, don’t go to your mum.”
“I did decide to tell my uncle, even though he’s never been able to hide anything from my mother. But then this happened. I’m afraid my life is going to undergo a very big change.”
“It can’t be all that bad. After all, how much trouble can a young girl get herself into?” The question rippled outwards, and returned to slap him in the face. The Oh-My-Good-God-No! sensation followed. Before he could say a word, she came clean.
“I’m pregnant!”
Unthinking, he yelled out loud, and the sound of his angry “No!” reverberated, pulling him upright, scaring the sleeping puppy, who scrambled from his lap to slide under the bed, his tiny rump wriggling desperately.
“You’re pregnant? Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah!”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“You don’t know? Humm—let me see, how to explain. I behaved rather naughty with a sex-starved fellow who put his male appendage in my vagina—”
“That’s enough!”
“Not quite, but you’ll know the rest, I’m sure.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. I want to know who—and why!” He’d lost control. Rage pulsated through him.
“Oh-oh. You’re cussing. That’s a really bad sign, isn’t it?” The sobs he heard mixed in with her words didn’t help.
“I only control my swearing in front of ladies.”
“Ouch! Troy—that hurt!”
“You ain’t heard nothin’ yet, sweetheart. Wait’ll your family and friends find out.”
“From them I’d expect censure, but not from you. From you I expected—more.” He reacted as if hit with a large brick to the side of his head. He sat back and twined his fingers together in front of his mouth, as if to stop it from opening. He swallowed the bile swimming in his throat, but the nausea eating away at his stomach wasn’t quite as easy to quell.
He counted slowly: one, two, three…until he reached ten. Leaning back in the chair, he swiped his cold hand across his lower face, wishing he could close off his mind as one would close off a tap. The shock of her announcement had stunned him so much that every emotion running through him had been as visible to her as pictures on a motion picture screen.
She waited, playing him at his own game.
“Tell me about the father.” His hard-won calm pleased him.
“He’s my friend, someone I’ve known for years. Troy, he was such a sad fellow. He lacked self-confidence, had no self-worth, I mean to the point of being borderline suicidal. You should see him now, strutting around the school, nobody’s bully-boy any longer.”
“You mean to tell me you went to bed with some guy to boost his self-esteem?”
“No, I made love with him to save his life.”
“One, two—”
“I never believed people actually did that. Count to ten, I mean. Does it help?”
“What do you think?”
“It calms you. It’s incredible, really. I’ll have to try it. Maybe when I come clean with my mother.”
“Can you count to a million?” When he chuckled, the tension gripping his core finally started to unwind. “Does this loser know about the baby?”
“Not yet! He’d want to do the right thing, and that’s the last thing I want.”
“Heaven forbid you should want to do the right thing.”
She ignored his satirical shudder and instead giggled, a sound filled with the relief of sharing. “Before letting the situation take place—you know, making the decision to let him go ahead—I’d decided the encounter would help him enormously and at the same time benefit my writing. I mean, how can an author truly write about love and ‘doing it’ if she’s never experienced ‘it’ herself?”
“None of your characters intend to rob a bank, do they?” His hand first pantomimed holding a gun, and then he waved his finger around in circles near his head as if he could express, by movement alone, that she was a lunatic.
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“Am I?” Unhappiness festered inside him, while the pounding in his head increased. Finally he broke the silence. “Do you love him?”
“No…. But the change in him—that I loved.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dani shrank into the sphere where she was untouchable, shut down communications, and left Troy his personal space to deal with the bomb she’d just dropped.
Looking back over the last few months, she realized how foolish she’d been to allow things to get out of hand the way they had. Barry, her baby’s father, a nice enough lad, was exactly that—a lad. After living intimately with Troy, she knew how a grown man reacted when being threatened. Barry had a lot to learn in the catch-up years until he reached Troy’s age.
Since grade school, Barry had been her on-again-off-again friend. Aching for his unhappiness, pity mushrooming every time she’d come across him being bullied, she’d tried to help bolster his low opinion of his worth. She’d even gone as far as intervening, sticking up for him, fighting for him. The more she stepped in, however, the more his morale sank, so she stopped. But year after year he became worse, until he simply began wallowing in the murkiness of his self-pity.
This behaviour more than annoyed her: it was abhorrent to a gutsy girl like Dani. Her mother might be a possessive clinger, but she made Dani aware by this goofy conduct that she was the most important person in her world.
Her father, a quiet retiring character but nevertheless a strong ally whenever Dani had reached the point of suffocation from being over-mothered, reinforced her value both as a daughter and as a person by his gentle, loving manner. And her Uncle Robert instilled in her the importance of demanding the same respect you gave to others.
Barry’s parents were the complete opposite. Both busy workaholics, they remained unaware of the misery poor Barry suffered.
As the two youngsters
grew older, Dani witnessed many incidents where the other students’ pranks cut Barry deeply, goading him past endurance and, lately, poking at his masculinity. It had torn at her heart to see how much lower this past year had brought him—how unhappy he appeared.
Then, three months ago, she’d come upon two of the bigger, more popular blokes at the school giving him a thrashing. Seems he’d messed up a homework project they’d forced on him.
“Here, what are you doing?” She’d broken into the fray and demanded attention. “Let go of him.”
They stopped hitting him, but using their young muscular bodies they trapped him, crushing him between them. They continued to poke at him with their elbows, proof she had no power over anything they wished to do.
“The little moron let us down. We asked him for one small favour, and he screwed it up.”
“Rubbish! Stop that. Stop hitting him; he doesn’t have to be doing your work. Do it yourself.”
“You stay outta this, Dani. It ain’t none of your bloody business.” The taller of the two got a mean look on his face and stepped towards her. Partially hidden by long strands of greasy hair, obvious cruelty shone from his beady eyes.
“Well, I’m making it my business.” Dani had always disliked Nigel Brown, the lad who continued to advance towards her slowly, menacingly. He stopped when she blocked his way. Then, forced to look up, she felt small, intimidated, and angry for feeling such things.
“What’s it matter to you? The poof’s a bleedin’ chump. What do you care what we do to him?”
She smelt the bad breath of a cigarette smoker. “Of course I care. He’s my boyfriend. Let him go, and leave him be.”
Nigel pushed even closer to her, rubbing his chest against her breasts as he said, “He’s not fit to be your boyfriend. He’s scum. You want a real man, come with me. I’ll take good care of ya.” Dark stringy waves framed a pretty-boy face, but the mean expression spoilt what could have been attractive features.
Fed up, Dani pushed him away. “Barry’s worth ten of you,” she said. From the corner of her eye she watched the reaction of her words wash over Barry’s homely face. He looked dumbfounded but took the opportunity to wrench himself out of the other boy’s grasp. Then he moved aside and waited, afraid to step up but not running off.
“Barry is more of a man than you’ll ever be, you big bully. He’s smart and strong, and one day he’ll be someone to be reckoned with. You wait and see. On the other hand, you will most likely be a kept man. Kept by the local authorities behind bars in a prison somewhere.”
Bullying rage flashed. Warning signals started in her stomach, butterflies battling and acid churning, but she didn’t look away. Her eyes never wavered, never flinched, and never stopped glaring her disgust.
Long seconds passed. Finally, with a middle finger showing his disdain and a sneering grin plastered over his red face, Nigel swung around and lumbered in the opposite direction. The copycat slowly followed, his shrug a clear indication he wasn’t sure what had just gone down, but neither was he willing to question his pal’s authority or his decision to walk away.
Barry, sheepish, approached warily, caution as obvious as a neon sign flashing. “What’d you do that for? They’ll be after me even more now, calling me a liar and such.”
“Tell them it isn’t a lie. I’ll confirm it. We can be seen together and—and hold hands. Maybe go to the films and to the café for lunch.”
Dani reached up and pushed his thick blonde hair behind his ears. With a little more grooming, he’d be quite handsome. His big brown eyes were encircled by long curling eyelashes. If he’d look a person straight on, as he did with Dani, they’d be able to see his kind heart shining through.
“They’ll know, Dani. Look at me! Why would any girl want to be seen with the likes of me? God’s honest truth! It’s not going to make sense.”
“It’s better than letting them thrash you. Come on, Barry. We’ll go on a date Friday night, and then it won’t be a lie, will it? You’ll get yourself done up, and I’ll dress to kill, and we’ll make a smashing couple.”
They’d gone on that date and then another and another. Slowly, Barry stopped slinking around and began to walk upright, straight-backed, a tall strong body revealed. But one thing kept coming up between them.
Repeatedly, he’d question her spending so much time with him. “It’s a pity relationship. You really have no use for me—you just feel sorry for me. It’s true, ain’t it?”
“Give over, Barry. We’ve been friends for years, since we were little tots. I like you. I really do. We have lots of fun.”
“It’s not enough. Dani, I love you. And I want more than holding hands, and pecks goodnight. Please, Dani, let me. I need you to.”
The truth behind Barry’s words never registered with him, but it did with Dani. She sensed his need to feel vindicated as a desirable, normal male. He couldn’t accept himself as worthy without her acceptance of him as a sexual partner, and bighearted Dani couldn’t withstand his desperation, couldn’t add to his rejection list. Until she proved his value by loving him all the way, he’d continue to doubt, to query—to deny. Time after time she’d seen him regress into the black funk where he’d question everything about himself.
And so, without thought of any consequences, she’d wrapped her young, strong arms around him and held on as he became a man and she became a mum.
Chapter Nineteen
Nurse Joye stopped in the doorway of the dimly lit sickroom and peeked in, listening. Mrs. Dorn muttered all the while she gently wiped the pale face of the still girl. She wore an expression of devotion as her gnarled hands wrung the water from the soft cloth.
“Poor wee lass! Yer flamin’ mum would drive a saint to drink, she would. I don’t know as how you’ve lived with her all these years without clobbering her with a ruddy great stick. She’s rung up four times today, and it’s only the supper hour. I don’t know how long the doctor and I can hold her off—that I don’t. You have to come back to us, dearie, for the doctor’s sake and my sanity.”
Reddish gold curls, springing every which way, were tenderly brushed back from the girl’s forehead, but to no avail. They sprang back into place, loops pre-programmed to twist and coil and frustrate anyone trying to control them.
“Flubbin’ her off is wearing me down. I’ve run out of stories to keep her satisfied. I’m thinkin’ to pretend she’s got the wrong number if she calls one more time this evening.”
A deep breath in preparation for a loud sigh inflated the old housekeeper’s body, swelling her by at least one size. She released it with such moaning that the giggle escaping from snoopy Grace Joye broke into the heartfelt noise and brought Mrs. Dorn’s head swinging around. She caught the nurse in the act of trying to hold back her hilarity by covering the offending mouth.
Mrs. Dorn rose and swelled to her great height of five feet. Her eyes narrowed, her hands gripped her ample hips, and a smile twitched at her lips.
“So, miss, you think it’s funny that the windbag and her hoity-toity manners are driving me demented?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dorn. I know it’s naughty of me to laugh. Please don’t be angry. You’ve been wonderful about taking on the phone duty. Doctor Andrews told me just yesterday that he didn’t know what we would do without you.”
“That’s what keeps me going along with this nonsense.” She turned to look at the patient. “What will he do if the lass doesn’t come back to us?”
“Don’t even mention such a possibility. He’s been glued to his reports. Working day and night on very little sleep. He’s tried to examine everything he can get his hands on pertaining to this phenomenon. He’s so pale and exhausted, he’ll need caring for himself if this Saturday doesn’t bring Dani home.”
“I’ve read the case notes, you know. Couldn’t help meself.”
“I suppose he wouldn’t have left them where you could get them if he didn’t trust you implicitly.”
“I wouldn’t be in his shoes
for any amount of money in the world. Iffen he has to tell his sister that her pregnant daughter’s body lies in a coma while her spirit is holidaying in someone else’s, there’ll be jolly hell to pay. Add to everything else, he has no idea where the lass is at the moment, or whose body she’s occupying. I’m thinking we’ll surely be visiting him in his own hospital bed—while he’s in a body cast, more’n likely.”
The smile slowly faded from the nurse’s features. “Put like that, Mrs. Dorn, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, either!”
Chapter Twenty
Troy had risen early, enjoying the brisk chilliness of the dawn. He ate a full English breakfast and didn’t know what rated higher, the appearance of the food or the delicious smells of ham and eggs wafting from his plate. All the while he devoured the meal, he chatted up Bunty to learn about the latest gossip on the fire.
Noting her early morning effusiveness, he decided to expand their topics of conversation to include the person foremost on his mind, Ellie Ward.
“Bunty, I wonder if you could help me? I’ve been trying to meet up with Bury’s star author, Ellie Ward. I’d like to arrange an interview, but it seems impossible to get through to her personally. I’ve tried numerous times to call her phone, but either no one’s home or a woman, an extremely unpleasant woman, answers and puts me off. Do you know how a fellow could get to meet her?”
“Ellie’s a bit of a recluse, Troy. She very seldom agrees to any form of publicity. And when she’s here in Bury it’s usually because she’s working on her latest manuscript. While she’s writing, she’s not available to anyone, sometimes for weeks on end. Except of course to her family.”
“Does she live here primarily? I’m asking because not long ago, in Chicago, she saved the life of a young girl. I’d very much like to discuss that incident with her, get her point of view on what happened. You know, have her share her feelings with the readers.”
