Chapter 10

Charity had gathered up her panties and other clothing and fled to the bathroom where she locked herself in to dress and put herself in order again.

In spite of the fact that she had, indeed, had a tremendous orgasm with the two boys, she had regained her straight-thinking processes, again, soon after the orgiastic, three-way, sexual debauchment... and she knew that she was right in refusing to continue. She was glad that her brother, Don, had agreed to take her away. In truth, she really didn't know what she would have done... if he had insisted, also, that she stay. His agreement had restored a measure of her faith in him, for there had been several instances in the last few days when she had been sure that he had betrayed her. At this point, he was all she had of her family. With a shudder she remembered why she had left the house that afternoon; it had been to escape possible molestation by the man she now knew to be her stepfather. She would have to tell Don... on the way back to that dismal house.

They were on Don's motorcycle, Charity mounted behind hanging on to her brother's waist as they roared, noisily, down the street away from the Donahue's house.

Putting her mouth close to Don's ear, she shouted above the roar of the engine, "Don... I'm hungry. Can we stop somewhere... ? Besides, I-I want to talk to you!"

"Sure!" he yelled back. "I'll pull into the first place I see."

Over a pair of tacos apiece, Charity, somewhat haltingly, confided in her brother, telling him of her very real fears about their father.

"I-I just know... that he's thinking it... a-and waiting for his chance to... d-do something t-to m-me..."

"Let's lay it out, Sis... !" Don said, bluntly. "What you're saying is... you think the old man wants to get between your legs... right?"

She blushed. "Y-Yes..."

"How do you know... has he said anything... done anything?"

"Well... n-no..." she admitted, "but... th-there's something about the way h-he looks at m-me... like he was u- undressing me... mentally..."

Don recognized himself in her description... and it was his turn to flush, pinkly. Hell! The only difference between me and the old man is... I've already had her... twice! What he said to his sister was: "That's possible... any man would flip for you... including him!"

"Will you... t-take care of m-me... Don... and make sure it n-never happens... ?" she asked.

"Like how... ?"

"Don't ever l-let him be alone w-with me!" she answered, with conviction.

"All right, Char..." he agreed. "... But, after all he is your father... and..."

"... And, you're m-my brother!" she cut in. "A-And... it happened t-to us..."

"You're right... and you've made your point!"

"Then... y-you'll do it... ?"

"Hell, yes!" he gritted. "It's the least I can do for you... now!"

On the way home, Don stopped at a small hardware store in a shopping center. There, he bought a door-locking device that would enable Charity to lock her bedroom door from the inside.

"Hide it somewhere in your room," her brother told her.

"Okay."

"... And, yell like hell... if anything happens!"

"I-I will!"

"Good!... But, don't lock me out, Char..."

"I-I'll have to... Don! It can n-never, never happen... again!"

"Never's a long time!" he said.

"I know!"

They rode along in silence, each absorbed in thoughts of their own. It was Charity who spoke first. "Don... ?" she asked. "How are we going to get into the house... w-without h-him knowing it... ?"

"We'll go in through the back!"

Don turned off the avenue onto their street. Just before reaching the ramshackle house they had called home for so long, he silenced the engine and coasted into the driveway. Quickly, they dismounted, as Don parked the motor bike, and hurried around to the rear of the old house. Going in ahead of his sister, Don gingerly opened the kitchen door that gave onto the back porch. From there, he could see nor hear nothing. He signaled Charity to stay on the back porch.

Walking through the kitchen and dining room into the living room, he stopped short when he saw his father stretched out on the lumpy sofa. He seemed to be asleep, but as Don came a little closer, he realized the man was dead drunk.

"It's all right, Char!" he called out. "He's laid out drunk... and sleeping it off!"

Charity came to stand beside her brother. She looked down at him where he lay like a lump of dough, slack-faced and unconscious. Her compassion for him came to the fore, even in the face of her strong revulsion.

"Oh, Donnie... he should be put to bed..."

"Hell... let him sleep it off here... where he passed out!"

"No... that sofa's uncomfortable... and he should be covered up... so..."

"That's something else, Sis! One minute you're afraid of him... scared to death he's going to try something with you... and the next, you're the all-American mother!" he grunted in disgust.

"He's still your father!"

Don glanced at her, puzzled by her strange statement. He's still YOUR father! Damn it! What does she mean?

It was but a heart's beat... and Charity realized what she had said. Quickly, she added, "... And mine, too..."

"Yeah... well, like maybe you're right... I'll help you put him to bed, then..."

Together, they half carried, half walked Gabe Scott into his bedroom. Don stripped off the drunken man's trousers and shirt; then, clad only in his underwear, they tucked him, snugly, into the double bed.

That task finished, Don picked up his father's garments to drape them across the back of the vanity chair. An envelope fluttered out of the shirt pocket, and as it lay on the floor, he recognized their mother's handwriting.

Charity recognized it, too! Swiftly, she swooped down to pick up the envelope. Oh! It's mom's letter t-to me... a-and he found it! He knows... a-about m-me... now!

... But, Don was quicker. He scooped the letter from the floor, saw that it was addressed to his sister, but didn't surrender it to her.

"That's mine... D-Donnie!" Her face flushed, brightly. "Give it t-to me!"

"I know... but it's mom's writing!" he countered. "... And she did leave a note... didn't she!?"

"It's just for m-me! I-I don't know how he found it..."

"You hid it?" he queried. "Why... ?"

"... B-Because... i-it's personal..." she choked, twin tears appearing in her eyes.

Gabe Scott's intention to remain sober had gone down the drain, as so many things had with him, but now, lying in the bed, in his own bedroom, he swam back to partial consciousness through the fog of alcohol in his brain. Don and Charity were there, in the room, their voices somewhat strident as they argued about the note. Charity! She's back!

Raising himself on a none too steady elbow, he said, "So... you li'l bastard bitch... you came back?"

Charity whirled to face him, horror-stricken; then without a word, she ran from the bedroom, through the living room, the dining room and into her own bedroom. Crossing to the connecting door to the bathroom, she shot the bolt, locking it, then digging the new door-locking device out of her purse, she fitted it to her bedroom door. Not until she was completely locked in did she remember that her brother still had the all-revealing letter in his possession.

Dear God! I-I hope Donnie d-doesn't read i-it... too.

Donnie had watched her as she fled, and when he heard her slide the bolt to the bathroom door, he turned back to face his father on the bed where he struggled with the blankets trying to sit up. He mumbled, "Where'd she go?"

"She's gone to her room... dad..."

"Just le' me get my hands on her..."

"You just cool it... dad! Stay in bed and sleep it off!" Don's voice had a steely quality Gabe had never heard before.

"What th' hell's this... my own son telling me what t' do?!"

"Yeah... that's right!... And, like keep your hands off of Charity!"

"You makin' threats... ?" Gabe blustered.

"No... just laying it on you... like the way it is!"

Gabe made another effort to get up off the bed, but Don pushed him prone, again, and told him, "You better sleep it off, dad!"

Dimly, through his befogged brain, Gabe Scott knew that he was in no condition to argue or fight. Yeah... sleep it off... tomorrow... I'll take care of both of 'em... tomorrow. He turned away, curled himself into a ball and growled, "Get th' hell out of here!"

Don left the bedroom, Charity's letter still in his hand. I wonder what in hell's so important... and so personal in this?

Closing the bedroom door, he flopped into the overstuffed chair, considered the envelope for a moment and came to his decision. He would read it. Charity probably wouldn't like it... but his curiosity had been aroused. Personal, or not... he had to know the contents.

Removing the sheets from the envelope, he began to read. He read the letter twice, to absorb all that was in it. He whistled between his teeth. "Well... !"

His reaction was not extreme. He took it in stride. Damn! I see why it's so important to Char! She really had it laid on her... but good! Poor little gal!... But, Christ! It sure changes things... that makes me and Char only half-brother and sister!

He thought about it for a moment:... And, dad knows it, too! He found the letter where Char had hidden it! Hell! No wonder she's scared!

Carrying the letter with him, he went to his own room, still thinking as he stretched out on his bed. There's one thing, for sure! Charity can't stay here!... But, I don't have enough of a stake to get us out! I'll have to do something about that, right away... like tonight!

Glancing out the window, Don saw that the sun was almost down. I'll see if Ray'll help me... he's got that big.45 automatic...

Then, he slept for an hour. He awoke refreshed and went into the kitchen to find some food. There wasn't much to eat, but he threw together a hasty snack and began wolfing it down.

Charity heard him rummaging in the kitchen and came out to join him. She sat down near him, her eyes downcast.

"Y-You read mom's letter..."

"Yeah... I had to... to find out why it was so damned important to you..."

"Then... y-you know... a-all about mom... a-and m-me?"

"Yeah..." he mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I'm going to get you out of here!"

"You are... ? Oh, Donnie... I-I was hoping y-you'd say that!" She was ecstatic with joy. "I-I just couldn't stay h- here!"

"It'd be hard..." he agreed.

"It'd be impossible!"

"Don't worry, Char..." he grinned. "I'll take care of you... somehow!"

Don didn't tell Charity what he planned to do. Christ! She's got enough to worry about! Right after he finished his plate of food, he arose from the table and told his sister, "He'll probably sleep all night... but stay in your room, anyway... with the doors locked! I'm going out, tonight... for a while."

Charity showed her disappointment in her quick frown of disapproval and her dull, "Oh..."

Quickly, he added, "But, not for long..."

"Why a-are you going... l-leaving me a-alone... ?"

"Damn it, Char!" he snapped. "You'll be all right! I've got to find a way to get us out of here... for good!"

On impulse, then, he leaned down and kissed her, quickly, full on the mouth. She was taken by surprise. She gasped, "D-Don..."

"Now, get off my back... and be sure to stay in your room!"

Donnie didn't really know why he had kissed her, but there was a strong feeling in him, at that instant, that he loved his sister more than anything else in the world.

... And, he knew, in the back of his mind, that there was a strong element of danger in what he planned to do. He thrilled to it. There was a challenge in the danger of it.

He left her sitting there, perplexed and puzzled and went directly to his own room, locking the door, securely, behind him. Swiftly, he took the snub-nosed.38 from its hiding place and slipped it into his waistband, put on his jacket and stocking cap and left the house through the back door.

Striding to his big motorcycle he started it and swept out of the driveway to roar off down the street toward the avenue. Damn it! I hated to leave her there... but I don't know any other way to do it!

Ray Donahue came to the door, only after Don had rung the doorbell several times, then leaned on it, hard, in one continuous ring.

"Don... like don't make so much noise, man! What do you want... this time of night?"

Looking at the tall youth, critically, Don knew, on the instant, that Ray was stoned... probably on pot.

"Well... like what are you toked up on, Ray?"

Elaborately, the other invited him in and closed the door, before answering, "I got me some hash, man... the best!"

"And you're stoned... all by yourself?

"Of course... man except for little old Marcia..."

"Marcia... who?"

"Just little old me... Marcy Lunceford..."

Don was startled by her voice, but was, instantly, agape with surprise when he turned to see her. She was completely nude as she walked from the hallway into the living room and lowered herself to the sofa, stretching out on it and arranging herself, provocatively, sure of her impact on him. She went on, then, "Come on over here, lover boy... I want to see you close up..."

He gulped; the memory of her that night, in her yard, came flashing back to him. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered.

Sitting down beside her, he said, "Okay here I am, now what?"

Marcy ran a trailing hand over his thigh. She smiled a tight, coy little smile and said, "Ray's been telling me some interesting little things about you..."

"That right?" he said with some nonchalance... but his heart skipped a beat. "Like what?" He glanced up at Ray in time to catch him trying to signal Marcy to silence.

If she saw, she chose to ignore it, as she went on, "Oh, things..."

Ray broke in, then, saying, "Want to join us, Don? The party's just starting... and I've got some more hash... What do you say, man?"

"Maybe... like..." He turned back to Marcy and reached out to a full-rounding, naked breast, his hand cupping and caressing, her pink nipple coming to instant, alert erection. He took the berry-like bud between his fingers and squeezed it, hard. She winced and tried to pull away.

"Oh! That hurts!"

Leaning over, his mouth at her ear, he gritted in a low, deadly voice, "That's just for starters! I can think of lots more... so you want to start telling me all those interesting little things Ray's been telling you... about me?!"

"N-No... !" she said, loudly.

In a narcotic haze, Ray had sat down, heavily, into an upholstered chair; now, he struggled to his feet and said, "What the hell's going on?"