Chapter 4

I awoke the next morning with a little arm across my chest and someone breathing in my ear. I disentangled myself and got up. Stacie had kicked off the bed clothes, and her T-shirt was twisted up just under her breasts. The little patch of blonde hair between her legs was clearly visible. So were her bruises. It looked as though someone had hit or kicked her directly on her pudendum. As I covered her, I felt that sense of helpless rage again. Someone was going to pay for treating my girl this way.

I turned on the intercom so that I could monitor what was happening with Stacie and headed for the kitchen. I was making coffee when I realized that I'd though of Stacie as "my" girl. Well, who had a better right? I'd given her care and refuge, which is a lot more than those assholes who called themselves "parents" had done.

While the coffee was brewing, the phone rang. The call display showed my office number. I answered the call. It was Larissa. She told me that she'd made the arrangements for a home care nurse. Then, of course, she wanted to know what had happened. I swore her to secrecy before telling her. I knew that this episode wasn't the sort of thing that Stacie would want as office gossip. Larissa was, of course, horrified by the tale. She was crying as I hung up.

I heard Stacie's voice on the intercom. I silently cursed myself for not turning off the ringer on the phone in the bedroom. The goddam phone had obviously woken her. "Jack," she said, "where are you?"

I hit the talk button on the kitchen intercom. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," I said. I went up the two flights of stairs in record time. At least it was a record for a middle-aged guy in lousy shape.

When I got to the bedroom, Stacie was nowhere to be seen. Then I heard the toilet flush. She was in the washroom. I was able to breath again.

Stacie emerged. She was wearing the robe she'd worn on Saturday morning. When she saw me, she beamed. She came over and hugged me. "Thanks again," she said, "for taking such good care of me."

"Be careful of your shoulder, sweetheart. How do you feel?"

"Not too bad. Oh, I ache in lots of places. And my shoulder is still really stiff and sore. Dr. Greenstein warned me not to use my right arm too much for a while. But I don't feel too bad. Do you know what my main problem is?"

"No."

"I'm starving. I could eat a horse!"

"Would you settle for ham and eggs?"

"Could you also make some home fries?"

"Oui, madame. Is there anything else that madame desires?"

"Let's see. Orange juice, coffee, eggs, ham, potatoes. That about covers it. Oh yes, I'd like some toast. Whole wheat, if you have it. And some marmalade. Or honey maybe. And peanut butter."

I laughed and hugged her. "I'd better get out of here before you think of anything else. Sit down over here," I said, leading her to the armchair by the window. "Here's the remote control for the TV and the stereo. I'll be back with breakfast as soon as I can."

I whipped up the monster breakfast she'd requested. When it was done, I brought up two television trays on my first trip and the food on the second trip.

"You don't have to wait on me," Stacie protested.

"Yes," I said, "I do." I bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

The home-care nurse arrived about noon, followed closely by Charlotte Jefferson. The three of us went upstairs to see Stacie. Charlotte immediately hugged Stacie and kissed her cheek. "Jack, I hope you don't mind," Stacie said, "I called Aunt Charlotte. I knew that she'd be worried about me."

While the nurse was upstairs examining Stacie, I invited Ms. Jefferson to join me in a cup of coffee. We sat at the kitchen table, sipping our coffee. "Mr. Charles," she began.

"Jack," I interrupted, "please call me Jack."

She smiled, showing some gold caps on her teeth. "And I'm Charlotte. Jack, I just want to thank you for taking such good care of little Stacie. You're good people. Most rich folks wouldn't have anything to do with a kid from the Park."

"Charlotte, as you know, Stacie isn't just any kid. She's special."

"Yes," she said, "she is. She's very special."

I asked Charlotte a few questions about herself. Gradually, the picture of her life emerged. Her husband had deserted her years ago, leaving her with three young children. She'd raised them while working as a cleaner in the Royal York Hotel. Her children were grown, and she was on her own.

"So I guess you have today off, then," I said.

Charlotte looked into her coffee cup. "I have every day off," she said. "I got laid off last week. Not enough people staying at the hotel this summer, they said."

I looked up at the ceiling and then at Charlotte. I said, "I just had a thought. I've lost my housekeeper. She retired and went to live with her daughter. This place is too big to keep up without help -- especially now that Stacie is living here. Would you consider taking care of us?"

She looked straight into my eyes. "This isn't charity, is it?"

"No way. I really need someone badly. Not that either Stacie or I are particularly messy people. But still..."

"I'm a really good cook, too," she said.

"Gosh, that sounds even better. Especially since I'm not sure how long Stacie will be off work, and she'll need some care. I'm staying home today, but I'll have to go back tomorrow. When can you start?"

Charlotte smiled. "Right now," she said.

"We haven't talked about money."

"Hell, I'd take care of Stacie for free. She's like my own child."

"But I'm not. What would you say to five hundred a week?"

"I'd say that's a hell of a lot more than I have now."

"Also, you might want to consider living here. There's what amounts to an apartment in the basement. It doesn't have a separate entrance, but you could live there rent free."

"This is too much to take in all at once."

"Let's go downstairs and take a look at the apartment. OK?"

Charlotte nodded. I led the way into the basement. I showed her the door leading to the apartment. There was a key hanging on a hook beside the door. I opened the door and turned on the light. "It may be a little musty," I said. "Since Almarinda left, there hasn't been anyone in here. But I think it's clean."

Charlotte looked through the apartment. It was pretty basic but decent. There was a sitting room, a small dining room, a bedroom, a nice washroom and even a small kitchen. At last, Charlotte turned to me. "Jack," she said, this is really nice. It's better than what I have now."

"Well," I said, "if you want it, it's yours. You don't have to make up your mind about everything right away. Talk to Stacie about it. But if you're willing to give it a try, let's shake on it."

We shook hands, and I was sure that I had myself a new housekeeper.

By the end of the day, Charlotte had decided to take me up on the offer to move in. She'd move at the beginning of the month. In the meantime, she was "camping out," as she put it, in the basement. She wanted to be readily available in case Stacie needed her. The result was that every morning when I came downstairs, there was a wonderful breakfast waiting. Every evening when I arrived home, supper was either ready or nearly so. And Charlotte hadn't been kidding. She was a wonderful cook.

Over the week, Stacie made great strides toward recovery. When I came home on Wednesday evening, I found Stacie fully dressed and sitting in the kitchen while Charlotte prepared supper. I was amazed.

"Stacie," I said, "what's this all about?"

Stacie grinned. "Aunt Charlotte came upstairs after you'd gone to work. She stood me up and said, 'Girl, you're lazy.' So here I am!"

The three of us had a wonderful supper. I insisted that Charlotte set it in the dining room to celebrate Stacie's return to the every day life of our house.

Jerry Greenstein came to the house on Thursday morning. He arrived shortly before nine o'clock. I was surprised to see him, especially that early in the morning. He explained that he wanted to see Stacie before his first appointment at the clinic. I called Larissa and told her to delay my first meeting. I wanted to see what Jerry had to say. When he came out of the bedroom, he was smiling. He said, "I'm so pleased. That girl is making great strides. The young have much greater recuperative powers than us old farts."

When I came home that evening, Stacie met me at the door with a hug and a kiss. "Come see," she said, "you're not going to believe this."

On the dining room table, there was a huge flower arrangement. Beside them was a card that said, "Come back to us soon. Your friends at McHenry and Charles." The card was signed by everyone in the office. Except me, of course. I was surprised and touched.

Stacie said, "Aren't they wonderful? Larissa brought them. She came by early this afternoon. Aunt Charlotte made us lunch, and we had a really nice visit."

As I said, Stacie seemed to be healing rapidly, in both body and spirit. The first few nights she'd slept with me, I woke up to the sound of Stacie crying softly. I'd take her in my arms. Usually, she fell asleep right away. By Thursday, she'd stopped crying every night, although she still wanted to be held until she fell asleep. By the weekend, she was getting around almost normally. Her shoulder still bothered her, but everything else seemed to be working well.

One part of my anatomy was working far too well. Every morning, I awoke with Stacie spooned against my back, her warm little body pressed against me and her arm over me. That and the fact that I was aware that she didn't wear panties to bed contributed to my waking with a raging hard on. If I didn't have an erection when I woke up, the closeness of Stacie soon brought one on. I soon developed a routine: get out of bed trying not to wake Stacie, take a dump, get into the shower, jerk off, shave and go down stairs for breakfast. If I missed my morning jerk, my willy was painfully awake for the rest of the day. It was becoming apparent to me that our sleeping arrangements had to change. I couldn't have chronic blue balls for the rest of my life.

Something else had to change as well: my drinking habits. I was hitting the bottle much too hard. I was using booze to get to sleep. Some times I'd wake up in the middle of the night, jerk off and have a few drinks in order to get back to sleep. I was getting tired of going to work with a hangover every day. I made up my mind to lay off the drinking right away. I'd talk to Stacie about her moving back down the hall just as soon as she was better.

On Friday morning, I was in the kitchen having my morning coffee and reading the newspapers. Charlotte was preparing Stacie's breakfast. Stacie was still having breakfast upstairs, although she insisted on coming downstairs for the rest of the day. As I leafed through the Toronto Star, I came upon the horoscope section. Something twigged in the back of my mind, maybe brought on by that big bunch of flowers from the crew at Mack and Jack. It might be an "uh oh" situation, I feared.

"Charlotte," I said, "when is Stacie's birthday?"

"Funny that you'd ask about that Jack. It's on June 27th. That's next Friday. I was just thinking that I should make a real nice cake."

"Charlotte, we should do a hell of a lot more than that. Maybe we could have a party. Are there any friends of Stacie's that we should invite?"

Charlotte frowned. "Not too many. Maybe half a dozen. She's not real popular in the Park. Lots of people think she's stuck up. She's not, but that's what they think. I guess it's because she always speaks proper English and reads all the time. Now that you mention it, there are a couple of teachers who've really helped her. And her high school principal. I know that she'd like to see them. And her friends, of course."

Charlotte gave me the names and phone numbers of Stacie's friends and teachers. The woman was a mine of information. If the circumstances of her life had been different, a mind as well-organized as hers would have taken her a long way in life.

In addition to Stacie's friends and former teachers, I decided to invite the office staff at Mack and Jack. I especially hoped that Larissa and Mack would be able to come. We'd make it a surprise party the next Friday evening. At work that day, I extended the invitation to everyone. To my delight, most people accepted. It looked as though we'd have a good crowd.

That very evening, I decided to put my new regime into practice. I'd have a glass of wine with supper, and then lay off the booze for the rest of the evening. Charlotte had made us a superlative supper, as usual. Of course, she dined with us. I'd made it clear to her that she was family, not a servant.