Chapter 23

Sharon pulled her housecoat on and stood before the mirror again. What a horrific night's sleep, and she looked it. Her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were rimmed in red and carrying bags. She had hoped crying the night before would get all the emotions out, but she still felt awful. She washed her face, scrubbing away the stains of her tears, then brushed her hair in an attempt to tame it.

She stepped out of the bathroom and saw Ted watching her.

"Do you feel better this morning, dear?"

She willed herself to smile and nodded.

"Good. I'll take Allison to her class council meeting this morning on my way to the office. I have some things to take care of before our staff meeting."

"I'll make you some coffee and toast," she replied quietly. He disappeared into their bathroom, and she headed to the kitchen.

She passed the hallway bathroom and could hear the shower. A momentary image of Allison washing herself crossed her mind. She angrily shoved the thought into some deep recess and busied herself with making breakfast for her family.

Allison entered first, looking fresh as could be. Sharon marveled at her daughter's beauty, so similar to her own lost appearance of youth. She counted it a minor victory that she could look at her daughter without the evil thoughts of the evening before. She smiled, this one genuine.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Pancakes?"

"Thanks, Mom."

Mother and daughter were quiet as they went about their work, both obviously lost in her own thoughts. Allison grabbed a glass of milk and the blueberry syrup and sat at the table. A moment later, Sharon set a stack of pancakes in front of her. Allison thanked her with a smile, then opened a textbook and read while she ate. Sharon watched her with a mixture of pride and disappointment. The pride was because of the beautiful, intelligent young woman Allison had become; the disappointment because of the seemingly poor choice she'd to be with Abigail and Jack, a choice Sharon still felt could only lead to heartache or worse.

Sharon sighed. It seemed no matter what she did, she couldn't keep herself out of the doldrums. She began to wallow in her misery again, when Ted came in, taking his regular place at the head of the table.

Sharon quietly filled his cup with coffee, with just a touch of cream, and placed it and his buttered toast in front of him. He was reading a stapled document of some sort, and didn't acknowledge her actions. That, of course, was never a surprise. Ted's philosophy: why express gratitude or praise, verbal or otherwise, when someone did what they were supposed to? Sharon felt her shoulders slump further and resumed her place in front of the stove, flipping pancakes. A few minutes later, she felt a presence near her. She glanced over towards the sink. Allison was placing her dishes in the sink, her cheery expression gone. In its place was a mixture of anger and sadness as she glared at her father. When she noticed her mother watching her, Allison gave a small smile and patted her arm, then kissed her on the cheek. She went over, stuffed her book in her backpack and shouldered it.

"I'll be waiting in the car, Dad. Bye, Mom."

She was gone, and with it any sunshine Sharon had felt that morning.

A few minutes later, Ted wiped his mouth and stood. He placed his document in his briefcase and went to the door.

"Goodbye, dear. I'll see you this evening. Remember to visit Nancy."

And he was gone, but the gloom that seemed to surround him stayed behind.

Ben was the next in. Sharon smiled, feeling instantly better as she looked at her youngest.

He bounded over to his mom and kissed her cheek. "Morning, Mom. Nice! Pancakes. Give me a big stack, please. I have two tests today, so I need the energy."

"One big stack of pancakes, coming right up." Leave it to Gentle Ben to always cheer her up, even without trying. She plated his food and slid it across the table to him.

"Thanks, Mom."

As usual, Brad was the last to stumble in, the legendary scowl on his face.

"Good morning, son," she said to him.

He grunted a reply and grabbed his brother's glass of milk, swallowing half in one take.

"Hey, turd! That's mine!"

"Ben, your language," Sharon scolded gently. "And Brad, I'll get you your own glass. Don't steal your brother's."

Her oldest son plopped down at the table and soon was digging into his own stack of pancakes. As Sharon watched him, she noticed that he seemed ... distracted. Usually he would have badgered Ben for much longer, and he wouldn't have taken the name calling, no matter how harmless, with so small a reaction. Like his father, Brad hated not having the final word in a confrontation. Something was on his mind.

His distraction didn't seem to quell his appetite, though. She turned to the sink and began to clean the breakfast dishes while her sons ate their breakfast. Sharon began to bask in the tranquility and regularity of the morning. It wasn't to last.

"Damn it all to hell!"

Sharon gasped and wheeled, looking back at Brad. His hands were balled into fists, his eyes flaming as he stared across the room. Ben had stopped in mid-chew and looked wide-eyed at his brother, obviously shocked by Brad's outburst.

"Bradley Douglas!" Sharon said sternly. "What on earth could elicit such vulgar language from you?"

Brad looked up at Sharon, his face a mask of anguish. "Mom, you are never going to believe this, but I ... I have to tell you. I can't keep it in anymore." He took a deep breath, his face contorted as he tried to form the words. "Allison and Jack ... Mom, they are having an affair!"

Sharon felt like she'd been hit in the face. How did he know? How long had he known?

Ben responded before Sharon could. "Are you stupid, Brad? That's just about the craziest thing you've ever said."

Brad wheeled on Ben. "What the hell do you know? You didn't see what I saw."

Oh, God, Sharon thought. Please don't let him say he saw them last night.

"And what did you see, son?" she asked evenly, trying not to let her rising panic show. She reached up brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit that exposed her emotions.

"I saw..." Brad's expression began to harden. "I saw the bastard screwing her. Last night. In the living room."

Sharon's last hopes fell. This was it. Ted would know they were together against his wishes, and that while she hadn't exactly told them to, she HAD condoned it by leaving Allison alone. Which meant Ted would blame her in part. What should she do? What could she do? She stared blankly at Brad, not even having the wherewithal to keep up the charade.

"Mom?" he asked, surprised by her reaction ... or lack of reaction. "Did you hear what I said?"

"You're wrong, Brad," Ben replied, his voice tinged with irritation. "You're just mistaken in what you saw. Allie wouldn't do that to Abbie. Neither would Jack."

Sharon looked from Brad to Ben. What should she say? Yes, son. Allison and Jack are having an affair. And so are Allison and Abigail. And I knew about it and even made it possible for them to be together. By the way, don't tell your father because we're all sneaking around behind his back. Now, have a nice day at school. Her jumbled thoughts kept her from answering.

"Mom?" Brad said again, his voice showing confusion. "I saw them."

"Mom, tell Brad he's nuts." Ben was becoming angrily desperate.

Sharon was numb, drawing out her hesitation. She needed to say something, anything, before they knew. "You boys need to finish up." She mentally slapped herself. That was not what needed to be said, but the damage was done.

"What?" Brad's voice was shaky, realization dawning.

Sharon tried to recover, but her mind was spinning out of control. "This is none of your concern, Brad. Just let it go."

"You knew?!" Brad shoved his chair back and stood, sending the chair toppling to the floor. "You fucking knew, and you let them do it?!"

"Bradley, don't speak to me that way." Her words had no force. She felt defeated, frightened.

"Mom?" Ben drew her attention, his eyes wide in innocence. "What's going on?"

Brad was beside himself. "Holy shit! Mom, you ... you ... I can't believe you knew! Does Dad know?"

How could this be happening? she thought. I can't deal with this right now. "I said this is none of your concern, Brad."

Brad's eyes went wide, his eyes filling with fire again. "He doesn't know! Fuck..."

"Bradley..."

He stepped toward her, his fists balled, his face red, his body trembling. "Shut up!" he screamed. She recoiled in the face of his fury. He'd snapped. "How could you?" he asked, his face twisted in disgust. "How could you do this to Abigail, to Dad?"

"Y-you don't understand," she tried to respond, but he stepped forward again.

"What d'you mean I don't understand? You knew they were screwing each other and you let them! In our own house! You just stand there and let Allison whore herself out to that son of a bitch! And you keep it from Dad!" Sharon felt tears coursing down her face. Brad lowered his voice, his accusing face inches from hers. His words were quiet, but they held no less venom. "You are as bad as her, Mother. You've turned our house into a damn whorehouse. I bet he's fucking you, too."

Sharon let out a sob, and suddenly Ben was there.

"Get out of her face, you ass hole." His sudden verbal attack made Brad step back, and Ben moved between the two, his body rigid as he looked up into the face of his older—and much bigger—brother. "She said you don't understand. Now leave her alone."

Sharon needed to intervene before things got out of hand. "Brad, Ben, please."

Brad recovered first. "Well, isn't that rich? Little Mama's boy thinks his Mama needs saving from the big bad son. What do YOU know, anyway? Jack snowed you when you could still count your pubes on one hand. You're just so blind that you can't see what that lowlife POS has done to our family." He nodded to their mother. "He's turned the Garner women into a bunch of cheap sluts."

Ben's face hardened. He let out a growl and shoved, two hands right in Brad's chest. Brad stumbled backwards. He didn't go far—he was several inches taller and quite a bit heavier than his younger brother.

"No!" Sharon tried to step forward, but it happened too fast. Brad retaliated. His fist shot out, catching Ben's face with a thud. Ben stumbled back into Sharon, sending them both stumbling back into the counter. Brad moved in, fists up, but Sharon met him head on.

"Stop it! Stop right now!" she screamed, her eyes wild, her body quaking. Brad froze, shocked by his mother's suddenly aggressive action. He stood, his fist cocked, taking deep rapid breaths. "You NEVER, EVER raise your hand in anger in this house!" she shrieked.

"This house," he spat. "You mean this den of iniquity."

Sharon pulled up tall, as tall as she could before her hulking son, and pointed to the door. "Get out. Get out of this house right now."

Brad glared at her, then at Ben, then back at her.

He harrumphed. "Whatever. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you both. I hope you end up in hell with Jack and Allison."

He whipped around, grabbed his pack and disappeared out of the kitchen. Suddenly, Sharon felt herself deflate.

"Mom?" Ben asked tentatively. Sharon turned in a daze and saw the blood trickling from his brow bone. His eye was beginning to blacken.

"Oh, Ben," she reached for him, then collapsed against him with a sob. "What have I done? What have I done?"

Gimel waited until the school halls cleared out for first period and then headed to the pay phone. He deposited his coins and punched Garner's number. After the third ring, Garner answered.

"Theodore Garner."

"Mr. Garner, this is Gimel."

"I hope this is important, Mr. Juarez. I'm expected in a meeting at this very moment."

What a pompous ass hole, Gimel thought. He slipped into his ignorant immigrant persona.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, I think you wanna know this, Mr. Garner."

Garner grunted, but said nothing.

"See, remem'er how I tell you the other day that Williams and his wife are fighting?"

"Yes, I remember. What about it?"

Gimel grinned. He just loved pissing the man off with his lackadaisical attitude.

"OK. Good. Anyway, I was curious about that, so I says to myself, 'I wonner if there's anything there to watch.' And I glad I did, sir."

"Get to point, Mr. Juarez," Garner replied impatiently.

"I'm gettin'. I'm gettin'. I drive by their house on my way to the school today and guess what I see? I see his wife—your daughter—puttin' a suitcase in her car. She was crying and stuff and looked really mad. I think they really fightin', Mr. Garner."

"My, my," Garner said, his voice suddenly more cheery. "Did you follow her?"

"No, no. I just watch her drive away, then I had to get to the school."

"Fine. Is that all?"

"Si."

The line went dead. Gimel rolled his eyes. Rude, rude, rude, he thought. The man has no manners. Then Gimel smiled, deposited some more coins and dialed another number.

"Yello. Jack here."

"Hey, Jack, this is Gimel."

"Hey, Gimel. What can I do for you?"

Gimel smiled. Jack never treated him like a lower lifeform. What a contrast to talking to Garner.

"I just got off the phone with your father-in-law. Told him Abigail left angry, with a suitcase. He seemed pleased by that."

Jack laughed. "Pleased? I can't for the life of me figure out why that would please him."

"Yeah, I mean, his sweet daughter's marriage is breaking up. What a tragedy."

"At least she won't stay married to such repugnant trash. She may be sad now, but she'll be ever so grateful that her dear father helped her see the error of her ways."

Gimel smiled, but couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness for Abigail and Jack, and even Allison. He couldn't believe he allowed himself to be blinded by Ted Garner and his money. Jack spoke again, this time more seriously.

"Listen, Gimel. Thanks again for helping us out like this. I don't know how we can ever really repay you."

"Just make sure Ted Garner gets his due."

Jack hesitated a second. "I'll try. Even if I can't, trust me when I say there are some very good people with good resources who are as anxious as you—more even—to see my father-in-law get his comeuppance."

"Good enough. Hey, listen, Jack. I'm not sure this'll mean anything or help you out or anything, but my wife overheard a story from about 10 or 12 years ago about this Hispanic girl who claimed to be raped by a couple of rich white kids." Gimel related what he knew of the story, including how quickly the family dropped the charges and moved out of town.

"Why do you think no one's really mentioned anything about it until now?"

"I guess her family wasn't really liked all that much. She was kind of wild, and so there were some questions about how true it was. Plus, it seems like everyone who really knew the family has either died or moved away."

"Died?"

"Not like you think. Mostly old age. Friends of the girl's grandparents, I think."

"Interesting. Do you know where she is?"

"She and her family moved to somewhere in Texas. I can probably find out."

"I'd appreciate that, Gimel. I'm not sure what we can do with it, but it does kind of fit the mold. Rich white kid does bad thing, victim gets threatened, people get paid off, rich white kid gets away with it. Could be something there. Anyway, thank your wife for me, will you?"

The pair wrapped up the call and Gimel hung up. He glanced at his watch and then went back to work.

"Do you think he'll have anything on the final about the frog dissection stuff?" Allison asked without looking up from her notes. She sucked a spoonful of strawberry yogurt into her mouth. "My notes are a little sketchy there."

Brianna shrugged. "You can always borrow my notes." She knew why Allison's notes were incomplete. The Tyson Experience. The day they did the dissection was the day that Tyson almost raped Allison. Brianna glanced up again across the cafeteria. Merrigan was sitting with someone Brianna didn't recognize, a petite blonde girl who didn't appear to have any friends. Brianna felt a pang of guilt. Who was that girl? Why had she never noticed her before? Damn cliques, she chastised herself. Had she not been so absorbed in her own little world, who knows what friends she could have made?

"Why didn't Merrigan sit with us today?" Allison's question captured Brianna's attention again. Brianna blushed as she realized Allison had been watching her.

"What? Oh, um, she said she had to talk to a couple of folks today."

"Mmm." Allison took another spoonful of yogurt.

"What?"

Allison looked at her friend with an analytical gaze. Brianna began to squirm. "What's up with you and Merrigan?"

"Well, we um, we just seemed to connect the other day. She seemed like she could use a friend."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

Allison continued to look at her friend before shrugging. "Nothing. Never mind."

Brianna was glad to let it go, especially since she wasn't sure she knew how to answer anything regarding Merrigan. She didn't feel like it was her place to tell anyone about Merrigan's rape, nor what she and Brianna were planning. Eventually, Allison would know considering she was one of Tyson's victims, too. Maybe not rape, but attempted rape and sexual assault. But for now, she felt uncomfortable discussing anything about Merrigan. Allison wanted to know what was up with them. So did Brianna, because she sure as hell couldn't figure out her feelings.

The two friends went back to their food and studying. Brianna eventually turned her attention back to Allison. She seemed like she was a different girl from the one Brianna knew in the winter. So much had happened in so short a time. She saw maturity in the brunette's eyes. Wisdom even. Her friend had grown into a woman, mentally, emotionally, physically. Sexually. Brianna envied her friend. She wondered when she would finally find someone to share that first time with, a man to take her virginity. Sometimes the frustration was so great she felt like grabbing the first guy she saw and asking him to do it. But she knew that no matter who did it, it would be far more emotional than just a quick fuck to say it was done. Brianna wouldn't be the kind to "do it" without feeling something more inside her soul. As she watched Allison, she saw in her eyes an experienced woman, and those experiences began with Jack.

Thinking about Jack made Brianna's pulse race. She couldn't deny it. She lusted for Allison's lover. Every other guy she was around seemed to pale in comparison to that rugged but gentle guy. For the umpteenth time in the last few months, she envied her best friend.

Brianna shook her head to clear her thoughts. She nudged Allison's foot with her own, bringing her friend's eyes to meet hers. "You want me to come over after school so we can study?"

Allison smiled. "Are you sure you want to come over to our haunted house? It's not the happiest place to be."

"Sure. I could always use someone else's miserable existence to remind me how good I have it."

Allison stuck her tongue out at her. "Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," Brianna returned with a smile of innocence.

"Sure, come over. I'll call Mom just to make sure it's OK. You can ride home with us."

"Sounds good."

Something behind Brianna caught Allison's attention, and her smile faltered.

Brianna turned to see Selena Barton walking slowly towards them. Her whole demeanor exuded discomfort. Brianna quickly glanced at Merrigan. She was still huddled with the stranger. Then she looked back at Selena, who had come to a stop. She fidgeted, moving from one foot to the other, her head down. She would glance nervously at Brianna and then at Allison and then back down. Brianna recognized the look. It was just like the one Merrigan had that day in the library.

Brianna broke the silence. "Hi, Selena." Her words caused the tall girl to jump. Selena was not a friend, nor had she ever been one. She had been a part of the snobby, catty crowd for so long that Brianna was amazed that she'd even walked within 20 feet of her and Allison. She studied the other girl. Selena was tall like Dana and curvy like Allison. She had wavy brown hair, complete with frosted highlights, which went way past her shoulders.

Selena looked like she wanted to bolt, yet she seemed almost rooted in her spot. Brianna waited for the tall girl to look up at her again before speaking.

"What's up, Selena?"

"Brianna ... can I..."

Selena's words came out in barely a whisper, more like a raspy breath. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She'd obviously been crying. Brianna knew why Selena was there, but for some reason she needed Selena to make the effort, so she said nothing.

"Brianna ... will you ... talk with me for a minute?"

Selena glanced over at Allison. Brianna looked at her friend as well. Allison looked between the two girls, then apparently caught the wordless request from Brianna.

Allison took a final drink of her Mountain Dew and stood up. "Bri, I'm going to see if I can get Philip to help me with my Algebra. I'll see you later." She nodded to the tall girl. "Bye, Selena."

As Allison walked away, Brianna motioned for Selena to sit. She complied, but refused to look Brianna in the eyes.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Selena was silent for several moments before Brianna saw the droplet fall from under the shield of her hair and land on her trembling hand. That was followed by another and then another. In a voice still so quiet that Brianna could scarcely hear, she squeaked, "Merrigan said I should talk to you."

Abigail sat in the hospital waiting room, focusing her attention on the advertisement in front of her. She mentally picked her resume apart and applied it to this position. She was surprisingly anxious, especially considering she was likely over qualified. Her anxiety was probably a result of her three completed interviews; only one had really showed promise. This was her last shot. She still hadn't heard from the home health facility from the day before, but was hopeful that they left a message at her hotel.

Just then a slender, older woman stepped into the waiting area.

"Abigail Williams?"

Abigail stood up with a smile. "Yes, ma'am." The two women shook hands.

"Welcome. I'm Clair Barlow. We've talked on the phone."

"Yes, Ms. Barlow. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Please, call me Clair." Clair motioned for Abigail to follow her into the hallway. Abigail instantly liked Clair. "So, tell me a little about yourself, Abigail. Is it all right to call you Abigail?"

Abigail smiled and nodded, then proceeded to sell herself to the woman. The trip to Clair's office took some time, and by the time they arrived, Abigail felt completely at ease. The two women chatted as if they were close friends. Once inside the office, the interview continued in earnest.

Clair was the Director of Social Services at the hospital, and was the immediate supervisor for the discharge planning resource coordinator, the position Abigail was applying for. She'd been at the hospital for 30 years, starting as a new social worker directly out of college. While she and Abigail had similar views on the role that social services played in the long-term well-being of patients, it quickly became apparent to Abigail that she was truly overqualified for this position, just as she expected.

Apparently, Clair came to the same conclusion. She sat back after nearly an hour and took a deep breath. She placed her pen down on her notebook. Abigail couldn't help but notice the volume of notes the woman had taken during the interview.

"Abigail, you are a phenomenal young woman."

"Thank you, Clair," Abigail said with a smile and a nod.

Clair hesitated, so Abigail continued.

"I sense there is an unspoken 'but' coming up."

Clair smiled sadly. "Very perceptive, my dear. Abigail, there is no question that you could do this job and do it very well. But I think it would restrict you, keep you from really maximizing your talents. This position is more administrative, very little involvement with patients and other staff. I'm afraid that one of two things would happen. One, you'd leave us in six months for a better position somewhere else. Or two, you wouldn't leave us in six months for a better position because you would feel obligated by your sense of loyalty to us. Neither is a very good option, in my opinion."

Abigail wanted to say something, anything to refute what the woman said, but she knew she was right. Abigail would feel stifled in this position. Still, she wanted the opportunity to turn it down. Then she realized that was desperation talking. She already respected Clair too much to do that to her. She nodded.

"I'm afraid you are probably right. It's not that I don't want to work for you—it would be an honor. But I agree that my strengths could probably be better used in another capacity."

"Thank you for your honesty, Abigail. It's refreshing. Most young people lead me along, knowing full well that they intend to turn down the job." She sighed. "Damn it, I wish we could find a way to make this work. You would be such a nice addition here at Overlake."

"Would you be willing to keep my resume on file, Clair? Pass it around to anyone you think might benefit from my services. I like what I've seen here at the hospital and would love the opportunity to assist you in whatever capacity necessary."

"Thank you, Abigail."

The two women wound up the interview and Clair escorted Abigail to the hospital entrance. As Abigail stepped out into the drizzle, she sighed. One for four. Not the greatest batting average. Abigail allowed her thoughts of melancholy to play in her head until she got to the car, then she told them to go away. She opened her planner and scanned her task list. Two appointments to view some apartments, and then possibly a drive over to the UW campus if she had time.

The first apartment was in one of those full service complexes, complete with recreation facility, fitness center, pool, spa and the like. It was within blocks of Bellevue High School and seemed to be in an established but pleasant neighborhood. While the apartment was fine, Abigail just couldn't seem to warm to the idea of being one of hundreds of residents in the same complex. She tried to shove her own feelings aside, though, and look at it all objectively. Quick access to I-405, which could get Jack onto 520 easily. Close to the school so Allison could get to and from easily. Definitely worth a shot. She noted it in her notebook.

The next apartment was in another older neighborhood. The complex—which was actually just one building, was off a little side street, tucked among a stand of Douglas-firs.

"How quaint!" she said with a smile as she pulled into the small parking lot. She stepped out of the car and listened. Hardly a sound, and with the exception of the other 10 or so apartments, they would be secluded.

"Ms. Williams?" a voice called to her. She looked around until she noticed a tiny woman standing on the second floor landing, right outside an open apartment door.

"Yes? Mrs. Petrowski?"

"Yes, yes! Welcome to Mountain Place Apartments! Come up, come up!"

Abigail smiled at the round little woman's enthusiasm. She caught a hint of an accent—eastern European if the last name was any indication. As soon as she hit the second floor landing Mrs. Petrowski hustled her into the apartment.

"What you think of this place, huh? Very quiet and nice. Not like those big, busy complexes."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Abigail replied.

"Well, I let you look at the apartment. I stay out of your way, yes? You look and then we talk."

Just off the entrance of the apartment was a nice spacious bedroom next to a full bath. Around the corner was a large open kitchen and dining room, which then flowed into a large living room. Almost like a great room, but small walls kind of separated the dining room and living room. Off the living room was the master bedroom, a large suite that included a huge bathroom and walk-in closet. Perfect size for three in the bedroom and bathroom. The living room and master bedroom had access to a small deck on the back side of the house overlooking a pond and thick grove of trees. Standing on the deck, Abigail took a deep breath.

Eleven hundred square feet of heaven, a slice of heaven that she could definitely call home. She went through her mental check list. Only a few miles to the high school. Close still to the freeway and to shopping. Secluded and quiet, absolute musts for an unconventional relationship like theirs.

Abigail stepped back into the living room.

"You like, no? This place has everything you looking for?"

Abigail smiled. "I like very much. I need to call my husband and talk to him, but I am very interested. Can I call you this evening and maybe come back tomorrow for another visit?"