Chapter 16

The Oakman Inn was an architectural mishmash the likes of which I'd never seen. A half-dozen regional or period architectural styles were evident in its façade. I could only imagine what the interior spaces held in store for me. I guessed and found out later that the inn was full of antiques.

I sat in the back seat of a van that had "Oakman Inn on Oak Creek" painted on its side in hard-to-read, curly-cued calligraphy. My new mother, Katherine Oakman, sat in the passenger seat. She was a large woman, maybe 45 years old, about 5' 6", 160 to 170 pounds. I was a couple of inches taller than her, I noticed. She had a pretty face when she smiled, but I suspected she didn't smile very often. Her normal expression presented a besieged look, like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. With a nineteen-year-old daughter with the intellect of a six-year-old, perhaps the besieged look was appropriate.

Surprisingly, Katy Oakman wasn't truly happy that I'd suddenly started to speak again. No, that's misleading. She was happy that I'd started talking again, but was unhappy with the words that came out of my mouth. They weren't the words of a retarded child. She didn't know how to respond to my sudden intellectual prowess. On the other hand, Garth Oakman, my new father, took my instant mental growth in stride.

I had no siblings to deal with. I'd asked.

Garth pulled the van into a reserved parking place in front of the inn and turned off the engine. "We're home, buttercup," he said.

Buttercup? Argh. I hope I kept my disdain for the term of endearment off my face. Not that I disliked the expression. I just didn't like it applied to me. It was too ... feminine. Criminy! It was going to be difficult being a girl.

"You told me that we've lived in Sedona for six years," I said. "Where did we live before we moved here?"

"In..."

"We'll talk about that another time, Debra," Katy said, interrupting Garth.

"I don't think so," I said.

"Huh?" she said.

"I think we'll talk about it now. I'm told I stopped talking about seven years ago. We moved here six years ago. Something happened that caused me to stop talking, probably something traumatic for a twelve-year-old girl, especially for a twelve-year-old girl with a six-year-old intellect. I don't know how, but when lightning came down out of the heavens and knocked me to the ground unconscious, I changed, Katy. From what I've been told, I've changed a lot from the way I was. I no longer have the mental capacity of a six-year-old. I have the mental capacity of my chronological age. You must learn to accept this indisputable fact, Katy. I am not a child, not anymore, and you can no longer treat me as a child. Now, tell me. What happened to me seven years ago?"

"You were raped!" Katy shouted. "A sick, goddamn, filthy pedophile lured you into his car with candy, and then he took you to his house and raped you. He kept you for three months, Debra. Three months! He used you for three months to satisfy his sick perversions. Papa and I nearly went insane." Tears streamed down over her pudgy cheeks. "Are you happy now? That time, that horrible time, has never been spoken of openly in front of you. We were told that would be best. We've tried to protect you, do what we believed would be best for you. After we got you back, you were never let out of our sight. One of us has watched over you constantly. We..."

I opened the side door of the van, stepped out and opened the front-passenger door, and took my sobbing new mother in my arms. My questions and my new intellectual age had cracked the dam, and telling me what happened seven years ago had widened the crack until the dam collapsed and all the sadness and guilt the dam had been holding back for so many years came rushing out.

"Everything will be all right now, Mother," I said as I caressed her back. "You'll see. You don't have a little girl anymore mother, but you still have a daughter. I'm a young woman now, but I'm still your daughter, and somehow we will fashion a mother/daughter relationship that will make us both happy. You'll see."

"Yes!" she gushed. "Yes, that's what I want."

I felt my new father's arms around me. He must have exited the van and walked around to us. Like mother and daughter, he was crying but his tears were silent. I liked his comforting arms around me as I comforted my mother.

I started to laugh when Conk tried to join the group hug, and my laughter became contagious. The three of us, Mother holding me on one side, Father on the other, with Conk jumping and running around us with joy, walked inside the inn.

I stood naked in front of a full-length mirror attached to the back of the closet door in my room. I looked like many of the before pictures that preceded the after pictures for weight-loss programs advertised in magazines and on TV.

Curious, I palmed my breasts, sliding my palms over their pendulous curves, finally clasping the nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. The sudden jolt of pleasure that traveled down my spine surprised but pleased me. My hands wandered lower. Would my pussy be as responsive? Hoo boy! Was it ever! Being a girl might not be so bad after all. I couldn't be with a man. My mind couldn't wrap itself around that possibility, but I could certainly pleasure myself.

Like Robyn.

Sudden tears filled my eyes again. I recognized my emotions for what they were: grief and sadness for the loss of loved ones. It was as if they'd died, I realized. But I couldn't let my grief and sadness show. I had to hide them, adapt to my new life. If I didn't, I'd go insane. So, I squared my new shoulders and rubbed the tears from my eyes with the heels of my hands, put on a robe, and went looking for a bathroom. I needed a shower.

I found a bathroom in the hall. Did I share a bathroom with the inn's guests? Not knowing, I locked the door behind me, dropped the robe and studied my new face in the mirror. For the most part, I was pleased with what I saw.

My pudginess gave me a cherubic look, which would go away when I lost weight, and lose weight I would. If I was going to be a woman, I wanted a killer body, and I knew how to work a body and what to eat to meet that goal. The features on my face were symmetrical. That was a good thing. I'd read somewhere that the more symmetrical the features on a face the more beautiful or handsome the face appeared to others. I had mousy, long brown hair and beautiful large brown eyes and a full mouth. As a man, I'd label it a kissable mouth. I wasn't wearing any makeup. I knew nothing about makeup. I'd need help with cosmetics and other girly things, which made me smile. Learning about makeup could be a bonding experience with my new mother. My teeth were very white and even. When I opened my mouth and gazed inside using the mirror, I could see no fillings in my teeth. My hair needed some work, but other than losing some pounds off my face and fixing my hair, I liked the way I looked.

I turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and stepped inside. The hot water pelting my breasts felt good. Smiling, I touched myself again. This time I didn't stop, and a few minutes later my chubby body responded with an earth-shattering orgasm.

"Whew!" I gushed as I leaned heavily against the shower wall. The research psychologists that had written about female sexual responses had been correct. Female orgasms were more powerful than male orgasms. Hoo boy! Were they ever! Was I multi-orgasmic? Nope. My clitoris was too sensitive to touch.

Washing my hair reminded me of Robyn. I started to cry again. I was alone behind a locked door, so I let it all out and cried like a baby—or a woman. I wept for the loss of my little girl Piper more than anyone.

Wearing the damp robe, and with my hair wet and tangled, I stood in front of my new mother holding a hairbrush and comb in my hand. "Mother, I no longer have the intellect of a six-year-old, but I don't know how to be a woman. I don't know how to take care of my hair, or put on makeup, or..."

"Oh, Debra!" Katy Oakman exclaimed and jumped up off the kitchen chair where I'd found her looking off into the distance with a forlorn expression. "Sit down. I'll brush out your hair."

That I'd asked for her help seemed to please her, I noticed, so I handed her the brush and comb and sat down.

When she started brushing my hair, I said, "I don't like my hair, Mother. May I go to a beauty parlor?"

"Yes, of course you can, Debra. What else don't you like about yourself?"

"I'm overweight, but like with my hair, that's fixable. Is there a gym in Sedona that I can join?"

"The Los Abrigados Inn and Spa has a fitness center, and I heard that they give lessons in yoga and pilates," she said. "And I think there's a gym in the Hilton Spa. The Hilton is expensive, though. There's Curves. They have exercise equipment and offer a meals program of some sort."

"I don't know how I know, but I believe working out with free weights and a morning run on alternate days is the best way for me to lose weight, plus a good, nutritious diet, of course." Should I ask her to lose weight with me? Why not? Exercising together could be another bonding experience. "It would be easier for me if someone exercised with me," I said. "A buddy system, sort of, to help each other push our bodies to the limit. Would you ... I mean... ?"

"Oh, yes, Debra. I'd like that. It would be something we could do together."

"What about Dad?" I chuckled. "He could stand to lose a little weight, too."

"A lot of weight you mean," she said and laughed with me. "We'll ask him and will make him feel so guilty if he says no that in the end he'll say yes; we'll make losing weight a family project."

"You said that the Hilton Spa is expensive. How are our finances?"

She didn't answer my question immediately, but finally with a quiet voice, she said, "Not very good, Debra. We put all our savings into buying the inn, and it's not making a profit. The occupancy rate has gone down since we bought it. Oh, we pay ourselves wages, but it isn't much, not nearly enough. We're not experienced innkeepers, Debra. I feel responsible. I nagged Garth into quitting his job to buy this inn. After ... after what happened to you, I couldn't let you out of my sight, and I couldn't watch you all the time. I needed your father's help, and I figured a business in our home would let him help more."

"What did Dad do before?" I asked.

"He was in construction, the lead man for a general contractor that bid on small construction jobs, mostly custom houses or small commercial buildings."

"I asked before, Mom, but didn't get an answer. Where did we live before we moved here?"

"Tucson," she said.

Which meant that my new father's contracting experience was in Arizona, which meant that he was qualified to test for and become a general contractor, and with my knowledge in construction and architectural design, the less than desirable financial condition of this family could be turned around by the end of the second quarter next year. Also, with the right marketing effort, the Oakman Inn on Oak Creek could become profitable. It was ugly architecturally, but a lot of folks liked ugly.

"We need a family meeting, Mom."

"Yes, Debra, I think we do," she said.

"Okay, cards on the table, folks. Does either of you still believe I need constant watching?" I said.

"It's still a violent world out there, Debra," Garth said.

"Yes, it is," I said, "which means I should probably learn how to defend myself while I'm losing weight and getting fit."

"Garth, Debra and I have been talking," Katy said. "We've decided to start exercising and go on a diet. We'd like for you to join us."

He raised one eyebrow, studied each of our faces, and finally said, "Okay."

"Back to my original question," I said. "Do I need constant watching or not?"

"Not the way you are, buttercup," Garth said.

I looked at Katy.

"No," she said. "Still, if something should happen to you, I don't know if I could live with myself."

"Okay. Dad, this means that you can go back into construction."

He smiled and said, "I like the sound of that."

"But not as an employee," I added.

"Huh?" he said.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, but with your experience, I think you're qualified to apply and test for a general contractor's license in this state."

"You're not wrong, but..."

"Good. Then I think that's what you should do."

"Whoa!" he said. "There are some problems with becoming a general contractor that you might not know about."

"For instance," I said.

"The license requires a bond, an expensive bond," he said.

"What else," I said.

"Some customers," he said. "Most jobs require an invitation to bid on them. With no experience as a general contractor, I wouldn't be included on any bid lists. Also, I'm not familiar with the sub-contractors in this area. Bad sub-contractors can put a general contractor out of business."

"How about starting on small jobs like remodeling or small additions to houses?" I said.

He nodded. "That kind of work would be easier to break into."

"Let's do this," I said. "Apply and test for the license. At the same time, look for a job in the area. Mom and I can run the inn. You can moonlight the small remodeling jobs we can scare up until you can demonstrate enough experience as a general contractor to go out on your own."

While nodding, he said, "I like it. That's what we'll do."

"How about it, Mom? With my help, can you run the inn without Dad? With just a little guidance from you, I think I can perform maid services and help you in the kitchen."

"I don't know," she said. "Debra, you can't even read. How come you know so much about everything?"

I looked shocked. "I can't read?"

"No," she said.

"Give me that newspaper, Dad," I said, pointing at the newspaper lying on the kitchen counter.

He handed it to me. "How about this article?" I said. "'Jeep tour permit fight opens trails, ' by Greg Nix. 'It seems that the "outlaw" of the jeep tour companies, A Day in the West, has won its fight.'" I looked up. "Should I read on?"

I grimaced. "You're both looking at me like I was some kind of freak. I'm not a freak. I'm not! So stop it!"

I figured stonewalling them would be the best and shortest way to go. "Look, I don't know why I can read. I don't know why I know so much about everything, as you put it, Mom. I don't know why I don't have the intellect of a six-year-old. I don't have any memories of my past. None! It's as if I were born a full-grown woman when I woke up after being knocked unconscious by a bolt of lightning. And if all this is frightening for you, how do you think I feel?" It didn't take any effort on my part to generate some tears in my eyes. They came with the emotions I was feeling. Crying, it appeared, came easily to females, not necessarily on demand, but close.

"I'm sorry, buttercup," Dad said.

"Me, too," Mom said.

I sniffed. "I bet I can write, too, and keyboard on a computer. I bet I can do lots of things I couldn't do before. It's as if my intellectual age caught up with my chronological age, including what I needed to know if I were a normal nineteen-year-old girl. I'll tell you how I'm going to handle this ... this miracle. I'm going to assume I can do something—anything—until I found out I can't. And if I can't do something I have to do, I'll learn how to do it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and it's going to be a good life, Mom and Dad. I hope along the way that you can learn to accept me the way I am now without looking at me with fear and incredulity."

They didn't respond. They sat stunned into silence by my declarations. Then Dad stood up and crossed his large arms across his chest. "You're absolutely right, Debra. What happened to you is a miracle, a miracle for you, a miracle for Katy and me, a miracle for this family. What happened doesn't make sense with any other explanation. I, for one, am going to call it a gift from God. From this moment forward, I will no longer fear what happened." He chuckled. "I won't promise not to look amazed on occasion, though. That would be asking too much. That's how I feel. You have my full support, Debra."

He sat down and gave me a curt nod that reminded me so much of Piper's "so there" curt nods that I started to cry.

He assumed that I was crying for a different reason. He believed what he'd said had touched me, and it did, but...

Katy Oakman wasn't as loquacious as her husband, but she too vowed her support.

"Thank you, both of you," I said. "I think it's important that we keep this miracle among the three of us. If it gets out, I might end up a lab rat in some government experimental program."

"Oh, my!" Katy said. "You're right, Debra."
"That's for sure," Garth said.

I let Mother give me a cooking lesson while she was preparing our evening meal. I have to admit that I learned some new cooking tricks, and the meal was delicious. After dinner, Mom and I shooed Dad out of the kitchen, and we cleaned up the dinner mess.

When we finished, I asked, "Do we have a computer?"

"Yes," she said. "It came with the inn. We keep the books for the business on it."

"Does it have an internet connection?"

"I don't know, Debra. Your dad will know. Except for the accounting software, I'm pretty much computer illiterate."

Dad took me into a small area designated an office in the suite of rooms they used for their home. My room was next to theirs and a door from my room opened directly to their suite, eliminating the need to enter the common hall to get from my room to their suite.

"Do you know how to boot up a computer?" Dad asked me.

I frowned. Asking for help improved my relationship with Katy. Would asking my new father produce the same results? When I told him I wasn't sure, he guided me through the process. They used the word "password" for their password. The operating system was Windows 2000, so it wasn't too antiquated, but as soon as I could wrangle it, I wanted my own super-duper laptop with all the bells and whistles. The computer had a high-speed cable connection to the internet.

"Do you offer the cable internet connection to the guests of the inn?"

"No," he said.

"You should. With a cable connection already installed, I don't believe it would be expensive to provide, and don't ask me how I know this, but I think most high-end hotels offer the connection as a free amenity to their guests."

He gave me a curt nod. "I'll look into it."

"Does the inn have a web site?"

"No, I looked into setting one up, but the cost was prohibitive," he said.

I nodded. I knew web sites were cheap nowadays, but I didn't want to argue the point with him. Sedona had a couple of colleges, both of which offered web design classes. A good student would be happy to build a web site for the inn for half of nothing plus a glowing reference from us the student could present to future clients to validate his experience.

"Let me sit in front of the computer, Dad. I want to see if using a computer is a skill set I inherited with my new intellect."

My new body was very dexterous. My fingers were soon flying over the keyboard, switching when needed to the mouse. I moved through as many web sites as I could find that related to Sedona. I wanted to get to know the place where I would live until...

Which begged the question. I was John Windom for less than two months. Would my life as Debra Oakman last longer before another swap occurred, or would I remain Debra Oakman for the rest of my life?

I couldn't dwell on the question. Worrying about it would drive me bonkers.

"Lookee here, Dad. The Sedona Red Rock High School teaches weight training. I bet they have a weight room, and I bet if I ask nicely, they'll let us workout in the weight room as long as we don't interrupt any of their regularly scheduled activities. It'd beat the heck out of paying membership fees to a fitness center and spa. Waddaya think?"

"It's worth asking, buttercup. Boy! You sure know how to use a computer."

"Thanks," I said. "I was just trying to get to know Sedona. Look at this. Yavapai College offers weight training in their class schedule. That means they have a weight room, too. If neither place lets us workout with free weights, we could take the course at the college. Now, let's look for some free diets. How about calling Mom in here? She should have a say on what kind of diet we decide to use."

When they returned, I said, "I've printed the Mayo Clinic Diet. Grab the sheets from the printer and read it over. I'm looking at the Mediterranean Diet right now. Yes, I think we should add it to the list of diets we'll consider." I sent it to the printer. "Hmm, the Denise Austin Fit Forever diet looks interesting, too." After I sent it to the printer, I stood up and stretched.

"You got all this off the internet?" Katy said, sounding amazed.

"Mom, anything you want can be found on the internet. You just need to know how to perform searches. Look over the three diets. All of them require a combination of exercise and good, healthy foods. None are fad diets or require a bunch of expensive supplements. I don't know why I know this, but the best diet calls for five small meals a day, not three larger meals. Whichever diet we choose, I plan to eat five meals a day. A good diet combined with running and free weight training should melt the pounds off this flabby body. When I'm finished I'll have a killer body. Just wait and see. Do either of you have any health problems that should be considered for this type of program?"