Chapter 40: Waking Up

It was Sunday morning. I was sore, but as long as I kept my movements small the pain was not that bad. Jane helped me out of bed. Then she went and jumped on her bed, and made sure it looked slept in, as usual. We saw Mom's car in the drive, and knew she was home. She would not be up for a couple more hours, though. I really did not want to see her. I was afraid I would get hurt again.

Jane made me sit and watch her make pancakes, our weekend tradition. She was wearing a shirt of mine, and nothing else. She had turned on the radio and was singing along, as I just sat there and watched her body move under that shirt. Jane just could not help it. She was sexy no matter what she did. I knew she was not trying to turn me on, but she was.

As she danced over to the table; I would grab her, and slide my hands up under the shirt over her silky skin, and steal and hug and a grope before she danced off. Finished cooking, she sat down next to me, and we ate.

"Brett. I know you won't be able to do a whole lot for a while, but don't we need to work?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. You drive me over to the few we have to do, and I do them. I can do them. It may take me longer, but I can."

"I know you can."

"Good. You used to do the hard work when we started, and always gave me half the money. Now, I get a chance to make up for that."

"I never kept track of who did what."

"Neither did I, but I still want to do this. You get to call the people we are putting off, and tell them."

"Yes, Princess. Can this lowly frog have a kiss?"

"No. But you can have a fuck."

"But no kisses?"

"Well maybe one or two. But only where I tell you."

"As you wish, my Princess."

"Good. Now help me clean this up, and then I will tell you where to start kissing."

We had finished cleaning up, with quite a bit of teasing, when the phone rang. Jane picked it up. She looked surprised. Setting it down, she motioned me to follow her.

"It's John. He wants to talk to Mom. He sounded really mad."

Jane knocked on Mom's door, and got no response. We ended up having to pound on it, and almost yell, to get her up. She picked up the phone in her room, and Jane rushed back to the hall. Covering the mouthpiece, she listened in. The look on her face made me very nervous. After a few minutes she hung up.

"Jr. is dead. So is Kurt, and Josh is in a coma," she said, in a scared breathless voice.

I felt faint, and quickly went and sat on the couch. Jane came over and sat next to me, and took my hand in both of hers.

"What's going to happen?"

"I dunno."

"It's not fair. They started it. We didn't do anything to them. All we wanted, was to be left alone."

"I know, Jane. Oh, God. Am I going to go to jail? I'll bet I lose my scholarship! What are we going to do?"

"It's not your fault. They started it! The cops know that."

"Yeah, but still..."

"Nothing is going to happen. We just need to keep away from John, is all."

Jane was being remarkably level headed. It was really my first chance to see her take charge. My sister is a strong person and, like any woman, will fight to the death to protect those she loves.

"We are going to get cleaned up, and leave for the day. Let's go."

Jane bustled me into the bathroom, and quickly washed me. I was still stunned, and would just stop doing what I was doing to obsess and worry, then snap out of it only to go back to obsessing again. She changed my bandages, and quickly jumped in the shower and washed, while I slowly got dressed. We were out the door in minutes.

I thought of Mr. G., and knew I had to go talk to him.

"Jane, we need to go talk to Mr. G., first."

"Yeah, okay."

We rang the bell, and Mrs. G. opened up.

She asked in a worried voice, "What's wrong?"

I am sure she could see it on my face, if not Jane's. She ushered us inside.

"Um, where's Mr. G.?"

"Pa!" She called.

He came out from the back of the house.

"Mr. G.? Um, we... , er, Jane heard that, uh..." I mumbled, and trailed off.

Jane quickly picked it up, and said, "I listened in on my Mom talking to John, and he said that Jr. and Kurt are dead, and that Josh is in a coma."

"Well, I'd say that was about what they deserved. They had it coming to them, and it could have been you two, instead of them."

"Yeah but aren't the police going to arrest us, and stuff?" I asked.

"They might, but I don't think so. I'm sure we will have to go to the station and talk to them, but don't you worry too much. If you get nervous, or aren't sure what's going on, ask for a lawyer. Just stick to the truth, and don't add anything, and don't let them talk you into anything if they try."

"You really aren't worried?"

"Sure I am, a little. But we were in the right, and they will see it."

Mr. G. did a lot to calm me. His confidence that we did nothing wrong, and that the police would see that, gave me back my conviction that I was in the right. Jane and I were the victims. We fought back, and won. Too damn bad for them, I thought. Jane gave me a smile, and rubbed my back in reassurance. She then gave me a quick squeeze on my ass, when nobody was looking. That pretty much broke me out of my funk.

"Can we use your phone?" Jane asked.

"Sure," Mrs. G. told us.

"You've got work to do," my sister reminded me, and gave me a little shove.

I called up our customers that could wait, and apologized, and assured them we would take care of them as soon as we could. Jane was in with Mrs. G., watching her make a pie. She had seen her do it many times before, but we had never had the nerve to try it ourselves. There was little reason to. Not when the true master chef lived across the street, and handed them out like cookies.

We left with a promise to come back for dinner, later. Mrs. G. was reluctant to let us go again. Last night, she tried to get us to stay, but neither one of us wanted to. It would have meant sleeping alone. They have always been careful of not being too demanding, or bossy. An open invitation was ours, and over the years, we came and went as we pleased. I am sure they, especially Mrs. G., would have liked us over all the time. To the point of living there. They knew, however; that we were a bit wild as kids, and did as we pleased. By just being available, when we needed them, they did us the most good possible. It was not a one sided relationship at all. Jane and I loved them, and they knew it. We would often tell them so, when we were little.

I remember the afternoon when I realized that they cared for us, as much as we did for them. Jane was five, and I was nine. It was the summer before Gary, Jane's dad, left. We were as inseparable as ever. Mr. G. was still working, and we were over there watching Mrs. G. roll out the crust for a pie. It was going to be peach, because that was Jane's favorite. Mrs. G. radiated love and warmth. We were drawn to her. It helped that she looked the archetypical grandmother.

Flour was on her hands, and on Jane's face from her efforts to help.

I asked, "How come you make pies and stuff, for us?"

"Because I love you. It's the kind of thing you do for somebody you care about."

"You do?" I asked.

"Do you love me, too?" Jane asked, solemn eyed.

"Of course. I love you both, like you were my own grandkids," she explained, rolling the crust at the table.

"I love you, too," Jane stated.

"Me, too."

"Oh, thank you. That is the nicest thing you can say to anybody," she told us, gathering us up in a hug.

When she let us go with a sniffle she got back to her piecrust.

Jane looked at me and said, "I love you Brett."

She grabbed me up in a tight hug.

"I love you, too," I told my sister, and returned her hug. Mrs. G. just smiled at us as we held each other. We hugged often. Jane would just get in my lap, or cuddle in right next to me, whenever she could. We tended to over compensate, for the lack of contact with our Mom. Declaring our love aloud was rare for us, then. We did not grow up hearing it from parents, so did not think to tell one another. Mrs. G. changed that. I told my sister I loved her, often, after that.

Jane pushed herself that day. She worked hard when I was unable to do my part. Having to do most of the work herself, was difficult for her. Jane, being small, made manhandling the mower a tough day. I did what I could; and when I tried to do a little more, either the pain would stop me, or Jane would scold me. As far as she was concerned, she was in charge. I could only do what she told me I could. That wasn't much. Making sure she had plenty of 'sports drinks'; I encouraged her, and complimented her. It was not hard. My sister did more than I thought she could, that day.

Mom was not home, when we finished up. No note or clue, as to where she was, as usual. Not that I cared anymore. I was carrying more than a little ill will towards her, at that point. We quickly cleaned up, and went for dinner across the street.