Chapter 5: Revenge and Remodeling

[Author’s Note: This chapter includes extra violence.]

“Alright, Lou, open your eyes.”

“Holy fuck! Freddie, what have you done?”

Freddie and Jean were standing in the kitchen of Lou’s repaired (and improved) home. She could not believe her eyes: new laminate flooring, refinished cabinets, and new appliances surrounded them.

“It’s beautiful. Jean, how much did this cost?”

“Well, number one, this kitchen isn’t all of it; and number two, you’ll never know. I’m not going to ever tell you.”

“Freddie?”

“No way. I’m not in the middle of this. Let me give you the tour.”

He shows her the high-end appliances and their manuals, including the dishwasher. Around the corner there are a new washer and dryer pair. On the wall, there is a fancy electronic thermostat for the A/C and heater.

“Your roof now has solar panels to lower your electric bill. Here in the bedroom, all new furniture, a high-end mattress, and I added an armoire because the closet is so small. Jean?”

“We left the bathroom alone, because your assailant didn’t fuck with it, and it’s functional. It’s on you someday if you want to update or improve it. Sorry to be so mean.”

Lou could only sputter in protest.

“Last thing, they are not pretty but they’re necessary. Both exterior doors are now solid metal, with big, heavy deadbolts. Shut up, Jean. I have put steel gratings with slats that tilt and shut over some of the windows. They look just like Venetian blinds, but you can lock them shut for security. Some of the other windows on the sides and back of the house have standard bars across them, so bad guys can’t get in.

“Lou, it doesn’t really look that way, but you now have a little fortress right here in northern Indiana to keep you safe. On the kitchen table is a tablet with an app to show the security feed from the camera I installed overlooking the front door area. Any questions?”

“Are you married, Freddie? I need to show my appreciation.”

“I am; otherwise I would have taken you both on that new mattress, since over and over Jean has made it clear she wants to play with my tool.”

“Jean is not shy. I’ve noticed that about her. Well, Freddie, if you get tired of the old ball and chain you know whose new door to knock on.”

After moving back home, Lou researches and goes to the county courthouse. She obtains one of America’s least effective legal documents: a restraining order requiring Thomas Easton to stay 500 feet away from her at all times, including the library and her home address.

When Jean and Lou return to the library to relieve Stella, they find someone new behind the counter. He was in his late 20s, over six feet tall, with curly hair and a darker complexion. (Later they discovered he was multiracial.)

“Hello, I’m Louise Baker. I’ve been on leave, but I’m the librarian. Where is Stella?”

“Oh, let me explain. Stella is my aunt; she’s around here somewhere. She asked me to come in to help her. I’m Mark Flanders. Most of the time, I help with the kids from school. Oh, you must be Jean Coulson. Pleased to meet you both.”

Stella came back to the counter, moaning.

“My fucking back is killing me, Lou. I need to quit this job. Again. I’m happy that you’re back. You’re OK now? Never mind, I don’t care; I’ve got to sit down. Let’s all go in your office so I can sit in my old, big, comfy chair.”

“Of course, Stella, I appreciate you covering for me.”

Jean dragged in an extra chair, and Mark chose to stand near the door.

“Mark lives with me, and he graciously offered to help. He’s great with the kids, and he’s working on his degree to become a teacher. In the meantime, he volunteers coaching football and basketball.”

“So he’s doing what I do, and more,” remarked Jean.

“I’m sure you’re better at it. All I heard from them at first was, ‘Where’s Ms. Coulson?’ I would like to keep working with them if it’s alright with you, uh, with you both.”

“On one condition. I quit, so you get the paychecks. I’ll be volunteering instead with you.”

Lou held up her hand.

“Don’t even try to argue with Jean. It’s hopeless. It’s like she’s allergic to having money.”

“Yeah, it’s that nasty green ink. Yuck! But seriously, my husband makes a lot of money, and I don’t need to work. It just moves us into a higher bracket for taxes.”

“That’s Jean’s regular line of bullshit. I don’t believe her, but she’s as stubborn as a mule’s jackass.”

“That sounds pretty stubborn. Well, I’m not wealthy, so I accept. Thank you, Jean. Oops, can I call you Jean?”

“Only if you also call the boss ‘Lou,’ Mark. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Surreptitiously, Lou was running her eyes all over Mark. In spite of her recent thrills while staying at Jean’s house, she was already attracted to him.

“On the way to ‘smitten.’ He’s adorable!” thought Lou. “I wonder if he’s available and open to older women?”

Over the next few weeks, Lou and Mark engaged in light flirtation, much to Jean’s amusement. Then things turned serious for Jean, very fast.

When the boys would come in after school, they gravitated to Mark because he was a role model of maleness and would speak to them briefly about sports topics. Mark and Jean agreed to disrupt this pattern, and each randomly worked with both boys and girls.

One day, near the end of the afternoon, Mark caught Jean’s eye and jerked his chin toward a small private room to the side of their area. Jean quickly finished helping the boy she was with and stepped into the little room.

Mark followed her in, escorting a 16- or 17-year-old girl to a chair away from the closed door. She was clearly upset, possibly even distraught. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and she slumped in her seat, staring down at her lap. With poor posture, she was obviously underweight and her clothing was worn and dirty.

“Jean and I are in this place for one reason: to help you. Even though they only pay me the minimum wage.”

He joked, hoping but failing to coax a smile from the girl.

“Please, Celia, tell us what’s going on,” asked Jean.

“Thanks, but you can’t help me. I’m fucked in every way.”

In the kindest tone she could manage, Jean asked, “You were raped?”

“In a way. This guy, Dennis, he’s forced me, many times. I’ll tell you why he could do that. When he was a senior and I was a sophomore, he snuck a photo of me while I was changing clothes, naked from the waist up.