Chapter 2

With everything that had happened already, plus her sister's new strange behavior, Connie couldn't sit still. Then there was Agnes Davenport. Connie knew it would take some time to get used to calling her by that name, but she would adjust. But that wasn't what concerned the redhead. Agnes was one of the best friends she had. She was probably her best friend ever. If this guy that was sleeping on her couch was actually a candidate for Agnes to marry, why had she been so eager to pawn him off on someone else?

She tried sitting on the large coffee table in front of the couch. She stared at the man sleeping there and tried to imagine how he was able to bring such a strong change in her sister. She didn't even want to think about the new emotions coming out of her sister. Not that Debbie was a wallflower by and stretch of the imagination, but it took time ... unless. Connie tried to wipe that thought from her mind. There's no way, She thought as it returned. You don't just go around and steal your friend's boyfriend after all. But you would have thought that this guy had proposed to her instead of beating the crap out of her! "That's gotta be it," she whispered to herself. "That's got to be it. Debbie's going to be so screwed when Sun ... Agnes finds out."

The last time she had found herself picking up the pieces of a shattered Debbie McCabe, it had taken hours, upon hours to finally calm her sister down. Those hours of crying and angst had taken a toll on both of them. When she awoke her sister this time, Debbie actually woke up smiling. Instead of using her favorite cuss word, "butthole," she called him by name. Instead of not wanting to talk about the abuse she received at his hands, she talked about the verbal and even mental abuse she heaped on him, until he broke and did what every other guy did to her.

It was only when they were in the shower together, which was another first for them, that she confessed that she had used his relationship with his eight-year-old niece, to finally push him over the edge. Connie McCabe was stunned at the admission. There was a desperation in her sister's voice, that she had never heard before. That was probably the reason why she was trying to sit still and look at this stranger, rather than call the Sheriff. The only reason she could come up with for sitting there and not bringing in the law, or beating him half to death with her Uncle Leonard's baseball bat, was that she didn't understand how this ordinary looking man could be so different.

Connie quietly slid off the coffee table and stood. She was too close to him, and even though he was asleep, the conversation that she had with Debbie made her feel even more uncomfortable, when she was in his presence. She crossed her arms and pressed the fluffy white robe around her tighter. She walked into the huge kitchen and without even thinking about it, reached for a large mixing bowl. It was something she did when she was aggravated. She smiled to herself, I bake when I'm aggravated, and I can't think straight. Debbie breaks things. I'm going to get so fat before all of this is settled.

She looked toward the other door in the kitchen. It led directly to the bedrooms and she wondered if her sister was really taking a nap. Debbie needed her rest, more than she did. Her sister was going to be flying out early this afternoon. It would be her first time to be in charge of the in-flight cabin crew. It was a big step up and she didn't need to be distracted by what had happened here.

It was a good thing that Connie was doing something she had done hundreds of times before. Her mind was anywhere and everywhere, except for making biscuits. The kitchen started to warm up, and she could smell the smell of fresh biscuits. She knew the home-cured ham was it the refrigerator just waiting. That will make a nice breakfast for everyone, when everyone woke up, she told herself. She shook her head as she realized what she just said. Her sister's rapist was suddenly company. She just made breakfast for her sister's rapist. It didn't make any difference if Debbie manipulated him or not, or even what she said about this niece he had. She had gasped when she saw the bruises on her sister's body. He was rougher than most others had been, and he didn't stop when she pleaded, no more. No one did something like that to her sister.

She shook her head as she pulled the biscuits out of the oven. Ever since Mister Brown, and his friends, started to use Debbie, Connie had been her confidant and protector. However, what happened last night and this morning, the redhead couldn't understand. Debbie didn't want her protection this time. She didn't want the Sheriff involved, and even worse, she didn't want Connie to protect her. With everything that was within her sister's twisted little mind she not only wanted him, but she wanted to do it again with Mister Gene McGuire.

Connie looked at the clock over the stove, and saw it was almost six thirty in the morning. It was time to get everyone up. She walked through the back door and into the long hall that led directly to the bedrooms. She turned the corner and opened the door to her sister's room. To her surprise, she was awake and sitting in front of her dressing mirror. She was still in the same identical white robe that she had on after they had taken their shower. That wasn't unusual, but what was unusual was the smile on her face.

"I thought you were going to get some sleep, Deb?" Connie said, as her identical image turned toward her.

Her twin pulled her collar up around her neck to hide the bruises where he had held her. "I tried, but I couldn't sleep. Is Gene still asleep? She asked. Connie saw her twin sister lift her head and inhale deeply. A smile crossed Debbie's face. "Biscuits?"

Connie couldn't help but smile along with her, "I couldn't sleep either." The smile that she had faded, "Yeah, he's asleep – sleeping like a baby. There's no way I'd feel comfortable sleeping in this house, knowing that he was in the living room."

Debbie's smile disappeared as quickly as it started, "He has a name, you know. It's McGuire - Gene McGuire. I told you that. Why can't you just call him Gene like I do?"

Connie shook her head and that made Debbie even more upset. There was no way she was going to tell her sister that she already had given him a name, McGuire. "Deb honey, I know what his name is, but he raped you. He beat on you like a punching bag. You've got more bruises on you than I've ever seen. Why can't you just call him the same name you always call the guys that do this to you?"

Connie wasn't use to the scowl that suddenly appeared on her sister's face. "He's not like the other guys, I told you that," Debbie huffed. "He's not a butthole. Besides, once you get to know him I bet you're going to like him."

Connie couldn't believe what she was hearing coming out of her sisters. Like him? There wasn't any way she was going to even let him get... Stop it! Don't even go there. She watched her sister sit down at the mirror again. "Don't count on it Deb," she told her sister. "I'm not wired like you are, you know that."

She saw Debbie frown, as she looked at the reflection of her own face. "You weren't there, Connie," she started to re–plead her case "He really didn't want to do it. He tried really, really hard not to. He was practically a gentleman. I thought he was going to start hitchhiking back to the airport until..." Even her sister saw how ashamed she was and how she maneuvered this man to do what she wanted. Still, man or not, he was an animal that had hurt her sister.

Finally, Debbie slammed the comb on the table. "I was desperate, sis." She was practically yelling at her sister now. "You didn't see how vulnerable he was on the airplane. The guy is terrified of flying, and he's dating Sunny ... I mean ... Agnes Davenport, for fucks sakes," she yelled almost in tears. "She's the fucking poster child for every businessman's wet dream. When we took off, I thought Gene was going to shit in his pants or have a fucking heart attack. I don't know how the two of them got together, but does that really sound like the Agnes Davenport you know? The woman's eaten up with aviation. She's already got her pilot's license, and she flies every chance she gets. If she could, she'd take a plane to the grocery store. I betcha she'd do it, rather than drive that Bug of hers. Anyone who would go through all of the shit that he went through today really has it bad for her, and he's not even in the damn industry. He said he works for the fucking phone company. Can you believe that? Agnes is dating somebody with a 9-to-5 job? He's gotta be someone special, sis. I wouldn't even mind doing..." The redhead's voice trailed off into nothingness.

Connie stared at her sister open mouthed. She knew where her sister was going with that comment. "Deborah Athena McCabe, don't even think about it." Connie's sister stared at her open mouthed, but there was that annoying twinkle in her eyes. "I know what you're going to say, and it ain't cool. I've got no idea why Sunny asked you to fly him up here, but you can't steal him away, just because you think he's a nice guy, and okay in bed. And trust me, nice guys don't rape women, you know that. Just because he's done stuff that the others didn't, that..." her voice trailed off into nothingness.

She couldn't understand why she was defending her sister's molester. It has to be because of Sunny Davenport, she told herself. She liked the blonde haired woman a lot. More than even her twin sister knew. Debbie liked Sunny, but not like Connie did. With their hectic schedules, Connie, and the blonde-haired woman that flew for National Airlines managed to meet one another at least once a month. Maybe it might happen when their schedules coincided, and they managed to have a layover in the same town. But, what Connie liked even more were the two or three day mini vacations they managed to take together. Those were nice, but too far between for the redhead's taste. Sunny's last boyfriend seemed to be a little too controlling. Alex was a strange one, but what pilot wasn't? Connie couldn't help but smile at her thoughts.

Of course, there was the annual get-together at the end of summer, but with six, and sometimes as many as a dozen women rubbing shoulders in four to a room motel rooms, it was tricky to get alone time with the little blond. It had taken Connie over a year to admit her attraction to Agnes after they first met. They were still part-time lovers, but it seemed to be enough for both of them. With the stigma still attached to lesbian relationships, by work and even friends, no one knew. Not even her twin sister, Debbie, for sure. A new thought crossed the redhead's mind, What would this Gene McGuire do if he ever found out about her and his new girlfriend.

Connie shook her head. "I don't know, Debbie. I don't understand what she sees in him." Connie really didn't mind Agnes having other lovers or boyfriends. She had a few guy friends herself. Even that idiot that Agnes was with now. She hesitated and corrected herself. This Gene McGuire is her new boyfriend, not that butthole, Alex, she had to keep reminding herself. That made what Debbie said to her even worse. "You can't steal McGuire away from her."

Connie was relieved to see a shocked look on her sister's face. "Constance Lynn McCabe! I'm suggesting no such thing. How dare you!" The shocked look was replaced by a look that her older sister knew all too well. "Maybe I can talk her into letting me borrow him again. You know, just once in a while? Kind of, that's all."

"Slut," she told her still smirking sister.

Debbie seemed to be thinking about something, and that made Connie worried. "Takes one to know one, sis," she quickly said. "So, are you up to playing our game with him, or not?"

Connie instantly knew what the answer was going to be, and she told her, "No! Absolutely no way I'm going to play our game with your molester."

Connie could see her sister's face suddenly turned red. "He's not a molester! I told you that! He's Agnes Davenport's boyfriend, so he's pretty much safe..." the redhead lowered her voice, " ... I guess." Besides, I don't think she'd date someone like that – do you?" To Connie's surprise, her sister wound down just as quickly as she ramped up for a fight. "Okay, it's not a problem. You don't want to play, that's cool. Tell you what, you wake him up, and I'll put the coffee on, okay?"

Connie quickly agreed, just to get out of the madhouse that was her sister's life.

She continued her walk down the long hall past the bedroom that everyone called the dollhouse. The same one that Debbie had been raped in, only hours ago. Having completed the circuit, she walked back into the living room and a still sleeping Gene McGuire. She thought about sitting on the coffee table again, but opted for one of the overstuffed chairs. She watched him sleeping like a baby - a baby rapist. A full grown baby rapist that her sister had fallen in lust with. What the hell is your story, McGuire?

She became uncomfortable sitting there, so she moved to a different chair. That wasn't any better, so she moved once more. After several more moves, and without really realizing it, she found herself parked back on the coffee table, just a couple of feet from Mister Gene McGuire.

She saw him starting to stir in his sleep. He is starting to wake up. What am I going to do? I should really call the Sheriff ... but he's Sunny's ... Agnes Davenport's boyfriend. She sent him here for a reason, but what?

Shit! He's awake. What am I going to do now?

Connie McCabe watched him closely as he slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus. She wondered what was wrong, and realized that he thought he was looking at her sister, not her. She could tell that, even in his confusion as he woke up, there was relief. It was then she decided to find out if what Debbie had told her was true. He was going to have to make the first move so she could see how she was going to play this.

He looked at her as his head still rested on the pillow. "Hi," he quietly told her. He stared at her a while longer, making her feel uncomfortable, before he slowly sat up on the couch.

When she replied, she tried to copy her sister. All that came out was a very quiet, "Hi, yourself. About last night - I really shouldn't have..."

There was a hesitation in her voice, and that was when she realized she was going to play that stupid game that they had played for years. It used to be fun to confuse each other's boyfriends, and a little more than exciting. This was different. She had never really had to talk to one of her sister's rapists before.

It took her by surprise when he said, "No!"

No? What was with that no? No what? Maybe he'll explain. In a quieter voice he did explain, "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have done what I did to you."

What he had done to her sister raced through her mind. Of course he shouldn't have beat on her. He shouldn't have done any of that crap to her. Connie stopped and took a breath. Debbie had already forgiven him, but how can he just sit there? One apology doesn't mean anything. You don't know it, Mister Gene McGuire, but I'm not Debbie. She had to think for a moment. What would Debbie do in a situation like this? Just don't scare him, girl. "That's sweet," she tried to imagine him as a nervous passenger. "That's sweet, really sweet of you to say that, but I sort of tricked you into doing that. I've done that before." Connie McCabe looked down at her hands. Why did I have to say that?

She looked back up at him and decided that, now that she had started, she'd play the game for real. "To be honest, it was kind of easy. You're one of those guys that wears his heart on his sleeve." She could see the expression on his face change, and she felt herself starting to weaken. "You're honest to a fault. I guess that's why Sunny loves you." Why did you have to bring her up? Quit screwing up, McCabe. If Agnes ever found out what Debbie did to him ... What the fuck am I saying? He's the one that did something to my sister, not her.

Connie McCabe was losing control, so she decided to go all in and play Debbie's stupid game. "I've known your girl for years, and I know she must really love you. I used those feelings against you. I just didn't realize how much you really loved her. I'm sorry."

She looked at him wondering what he was going to say, but there was something else. She had to apologize to him, just like Debbie would. "There something else," she started. "I know what drove you to what you did. I'm truly sorry for that. If I hadn't been so desperate, I wouldn't have done that, you've got to believe me. I never, ever, used someone's family like that before." She stared at him, hoping he would say something. Maybe he'd accept her apology, maybe he wouldn't. She didn't know, but deep inside, she prayed that he would, for her sister's sake.

She saw him starting to slowly open his mouth and she prayed even harder. Her heart sank when he said, "That's it?" She was prepared for almost everything, but not being challenged by him. "Do you have any idea how angry I was?" She could see the anger starting to build in his face once more. "You can't do something like that to people, Debbie. You have no idea how close I came to totally losing it. I hurt you, I hurt you bad. I could have killed you and it wouldn't have taken any effort at all."

Connie was shocked at his outburst. Even with everything that her sister had said, she wasn't prepared for the anger in his voice. It wasn't about what she said about his niece, it was about how close her sister had come to really being hurt - like being in the hospital hurt – or dead. He said he could've really hurt her sister, but he didn't. I could've lost my sister. That was a loss that she wasn't prepared for.

She looked into his eyes and saw that he might be as confused as she was. She prepared herself, like she did every time she pretended to be her sister. Finally, she said, "I know, McGuire, I know. I know this is going to sound really weird, but when you had me bent over the couch, I was happy." She shook her head. I can't tell him what Debbie told me. I can't tell him about wishing that he would end her life for what she had done. Just the good times, just when he was making her feel good. She had to make this better.

Connie McCabe saw him start to open his mouth. She held up her hand to him, and whatever he was going to say disappeared. "No, that ain't right, I was glad it was you who was doing those things to me. It's what I wanted. I just want you to know that while you did hurt me, it wasn't really all that bad." She told me in hushed tones. "I've had guys do worse, a lot worse, and they weren't half as good as you."

What am I doing? I'm making it sound like my sister is nothing more than a fucking sex crazed punching bag.

She could see the conflict inside him. He knew what he had done to her sister, and he knew what he had said to her. She wanted to comfort him. Comfort her sister's rapist. He finally looked at her and said in a quieter voice, "It was that bad, Debbie," he patiently told her. "I don't know how much you remember, but I wasn't gentle. I lost all of my control and really wanted to hurt you. I wanted to kill you."

She looked at his blue eyes and leaned toward him. His eyes started widening as if he was having as much of a problem with this, as she was. I have to do what I think Debbie would do in this situation. She felt his dry lips on hers. She could smell the soap scent still on him from when he took a shower. Shower? He used the same one that Debbie and I used. Even his morning breath wasn't that bad. The redhead pulled back from the kiss "I remember everything, McGuire. That's part of my curse. That was part of the fantasy, remember? The not knowing what's next."

Suddenly, both of his hands were on the sides of her head. She couldn't move, all the redhead could do was stare into those blue eyes of his, "That wasn't a fantasy, Debbie. It was a nightmare that shouldn't have happened," he mumbled.

Connie couldn't help but smile as he wandered into her world. Debbie's life was a nightmare. It was a nightmare she couldn't tell anyone about, not their friends, not their coworkers, not even their family. "I know. I've been living with it all my life." That was a truth that Connie McCabe knew all too well. She turned a little more somber before she said, "There's one thing I want you to do, though." She hesitated. "Please don't tell anyone what happened last night. No one can know, especially Sunny."

She thought she saw compassion in his eyes. "Her name's not Sunny, it's Agnes - remember?" Connie nodded her head. That's going to take a little bit of getting used to, but if I can do this, I can do anything, she thought. She thought it was over, but he finally said, "I don't know if I can, Deb," he patiently told her. "I know Agnes has been hiding other people's secrets for years. If push comes to shove, I know she can keep your secret." looking at him she saw something in his expression because he quickly added, "Look, I won't come out and tell her," he quickly said, "and if she asks, I'll think of something."

Looking in his eyes, she could see the truth. He's not good at lying. He'll tell her, because he's way too honest. I guess that's another reason why Agnes loves him. Alex was anything but honest. The asshole even hit on me behind her back. Without even thinking about it, the redhead leaned over and kissed him on the lips once again. "Thank you for that." Connie McCabe was a better liar. "I know all about the name change thing, but it's going to take a while for us to get used to calling her by her real name. We've been calling her Sunny for as long as we've known her."

She knew they were confusing him. It used to happen all the time, when they were in high school. People just couldn't tell them apart. Dating was even more fun for them than other girls their age. She watched him and thought she could see why Agnes was physically attracted to him. Still, even though he was no Adonis, he wasn't the hunchback of Notre Dame, either. She knew she would have walked past this nice, but ordinary man on a crowded street.

Her sister had told her that once they got into the bedroom, he was the best lover she could ever remember being with. Not that that wasn't much of a stretch, considering she usually forgot whom she had been with, but not what they did, by morning. Still, Debbie McCabe wasn't one to stretch the truth, well, not by much. I wonder if he's as good as sis said he was. While she looked at him, she knew it had only been maybe three or four hours since her sister and Gene had sex. It's been a while since I slept with a man... or a woman. I wonder if ... And that's all it took.

Before her conscience could tell her she was going to burn in hell for taking Agnes' new boyfriend, she said, "We still have some time before you have to leave. You don't need to spend your time on the couch, McGuire. My room has a real bed."

Before he could say or do anything, she took him by the hand and helped him up off the couch. Together, they slowly walked back to the bedrooms. Connie wondered if he recognized the guest bathroom that he had taken a shower in. She saw him looking at the door that led to her aunt's doll room, the dollhouse. He looked a little surprised when she reached for the doorknob just down the hall. Just before she opened the door, she realized that he would be the first man to sleep in her bed. Several flight attendants used to stay with them, and several "very close friends", including Agnes, who spent the night in this room, but there had never been a man, especially one that her sister had just made ... love to? She smiled as she stood aside.

She watched him carefully as he walked into the room. From his expression, she could tell that it wasn't what he expected. The dollhouse was old world, dark with paneling that matched the age of the antebellum house. She had claimed this room, or rooms, instead, when they first moved in, because she wanted something different. It was open and airy. There was very little furniture, just a large bed and a couple of chairs. A few oversized pillows dotted the thick carpet, but nothing else. The walls were white, and the heavy spread on the bed was ivory in color. Connie knew what she wanted, and her uncle was more than willing to combine the two adjoining bedrooms into a suite, just the way she wanted it.

The redhead watched him carefully. When she designed this room, her uncle called it a girl's room, and while she frowned at the comment, every woman who stayed there loved it. This man, Gene McGuire, was the first man to ever visit it. That was why she was surprised to see the look on his face as he took it all in. The room was quiet as a church, and her voice startled both of them. "The house has been rebuilt a couple of times in the last hundred and fifty years. My Uncle Ellis designed and built this room for me before we moved in. It was actually two bedrooms with a connecting half–bath. All of my clothes are in there." She motioned toward the opposite door. "I'm not sure which room I like more. Both have a view of the pond, but there aren't as many trees blocking the view in this room."

He seemed to smile at her before turning toward the ceiling to floor windows. He is different, she told herself. Most guys couldn't care in the least about this room. What's with him, anyway? Connie continued to watch him as he walked toward the ceiling to floor windows. The attraction as well as the confusion she felt grew as she watched him staring at the view. The pair of horses that she knew where grazing between the pond and the split rail fence made everything complete. They were there every morning without fail, and they didn't fail her now. She looked at him from behind and wondered what he looked like without any clothes on. Debbie said he was hard to describe. He was beautiful, in a rugged sort of way, but there was something else. There was something wild inside of him that wanted to get out, but gentle. When Debbie was finished trying to explain, she challenged her sister to see for herself.

Slowly Connie stepped back toward the bathroom door. Her eyes remained on Gene McGuire's back. Constance McCabe took a deep breath as her fingers went to the sash holding the robe closed. Her eyes left his wide shoulders and drifted down to his waist. His short sleeve, collared shirt was rumpled from sleeping in it, as were the khaki slacks that he was wearing. Her eyes were fixed on Gene McGuire's ass as her fingers pulled the ends apart. She never thought of herself as someone who could be turned on by a guy's backside, but looking at him, she could feel herself starting to get that feeling again.

She continued to give McGuire the once over as she opened the robe slightly. She could feel the cool morning air play across her chest. She could feel her nipples starting to perk up as they were caressed by the slight breeze coming through the open windows.

"It's beautiful," he said. His voice was a little deeper and softer. It was almost as if he were in a church. She knew what he was seeing, and she couldn't agree more. It was the same feeling of peace that she got when she looked out of those windows every morning she was home. Connie McCabe continued to look at him, not as his sister's rapist, but someone that gave Agnes Davenport such pleasure.

As he looked out the window, she shrugged her shoulders and the robe slid down and puddled at her feet. "It is," the redhead told him, as her eyes wandered over his clothed body. She could feel something starting to stir deep inside her, or was it just the cool morning air still caressing her hardening nipples? "It's almost the most beautiful view on the entire farm."

Connie instinctively knew that he would turn away from the window. She stood there, suddenly feeling vulnerable in her own bedroom. She caught herself as her arms started to cover her breasts, even as his eyes went wide and he stared at her body. She quickly placed her hands behind her back and just stood there. What are you going to do now, McGuire?

The redhead had been stared at before, but never like McGuire was doing now. There was a look in his eyes that made her stomach clench and her legs start to weaken. He looked at her just once, but it was so complete she knew if she asked he would be able to point out every blemish on her body. He started at the top, taking in the red, curly hair that men had found so fascinating. If there had been a stack of Bibles in the room, she would have sworn that he stared at her neck even longer. She was so nervous now that she was about ready to ask if he was a vampire, but his eyes shifted to her shoulders and breasts.