Chapter 1

It was a cold rainy night in early February. I had a fire going in the fireplace as it made things cozier with the foul weather. Around 2200 hrs, I heard the doorbell. Going over to the front door and turning on the porch light, I saw my neighbors daughter, Julie. She was standing there in the rain in her nightgown and was obviously VERY PREGNANT!

Background

Before I get too far into this, let me tell you who I am. My name is Jim Thompson. I am 6’-0” tall, 180 lbs, forty-seven years old, brown hair (mostly), retired military - 25 yeas: Airborne, Ranger, and Spec Warfare. After the last little fracas I was in, they took six bullets and a bunch of scrap metal out of me. I spent 2 ½ years in the hospital and rehab. I had to give up a lot of things I liked - skydiving, karate and other overly physical activities.

My wife of 15 years divorced me and married a Sergeant Major from supply when she found out I might be severely physically impaired for the rest of my life. She said she couldn’t deal with that. After a lot (read 2 years) of physical therapy and a couple of more operations, I am 90% physically fit, if you don’t count the baling wire and bubble gum holding me together.

The house and 5 acres of land that we had purchased shortly after we were married, she left to me taking only her clothes, car, and our bank account. I wasn’t real worried about the money as I had 2 ½ years of pay accumulated while in the hospital. Shortly after leaving the hospital, I was retired medically, and moved into the house here. That was 2 years ago.

End Background

Over the last 2 years, I had seen Julie out in her yard or while out walking many times, and had talked to her on numerous occasions. She was 5’-2”, about 115 lbs, 34D-22-33 with red hair, down about 6 inches below her shoulders, an oval face and freckles. She has the brightest green eyes.

On this night in February, she was seven plus months pregnant, her breasts had swollen up to double D size, and it looked like she had gained about 25 pounds in weight.

I quickly opened the door, and Julie almost fell in. She was soaking wet and her lips had started to turn blue from the cold. She was crying her eyes out and hysterical.

“Julie,” I asked, “what’s the matter? Why are you out in this weather like this?”

She was having trouble catching her breath. I picked her up, and carried her into the living room, and sat her down near the fireplace. I put a few more logs on the fire to build it up, and told her to sit there while I got some towels to dry her off. I went to the linen closet, and got a couple of large bath towels and a smaller one for her hair.

When I came back into the living room, Julie was still sitting near the fireplace crying and shivering from cold.

“Julie, I have to get you out of those wet clothes and warm you up,” I told her.

“No,” she wailed between sobs,”let me die.”

“That’s fine for you,” I said, “but what about your baby? Are you willing to let it die too?” This brought more sobs, wailing, and crying from her.

“My baby, my poor unborn baby.”

I approached her and helped her to stand up, and then pulled the wet nightgown over her head. She had no bra or panties on. She was a sight to behold. Her breasts had filled out from pregnancy to double D size, and she had already started to lactate. Her belly was swollen out by the baby she carried. She was absolutely beautiful!

I quickly wrapped one of the towels around her waist and put the other around her shoulders. The small towel, I used to wrap up her hair. She was still crying and shaking from the cold. I rubbed the towels around the best I could to dry her off. Even shivering, she sure felt good to the touch.

In the meantime, the fire had picked up considerably, and it was getting really warm in the living room. It didn’t show on Julie, however. She was still crying and shaking from the cold. I needed to do something. I remembered there was still a partial bottle of Jim Beam in the dining room from a party a number of weeks earlier. I had to give up drinking, pretty much, during the stay in the hospital, and had lost my taste for liquor. Most of my friends hadn’t - hence the bottle.

I went to the dining room, got out the bottle and two shot glasses. I filled each glass half full. I figured with all the crying and what not, she wouldn’t get a whole shot down but a half might work. I didn’t want to give her too much, as I had heard it wasn’t good for the baby if the mother drank. I figured one shot shouldn’t be too much though and thought it would calm her down some.

Returning to the living room, I found Julie still seated near the fire as I had left her, but now she was bent forward, at least as far as a pregnant woman could bend, and still crying.

“Here Julie, take this,” I said and I held the shot glass up to her mouth and tipped the contents in. The liquor must have come as quite a surprise to her, as she sputtered and caught her breath as it worked its way down her throat. This was followed by a moan.

“Here,” I said “drink the other one too,” and I tipped it into her mouth.

In a few minutes she calmed down some, but was still quietly crying and shivering.

“I will be back in a minute,” I told her, “I need to see what clothes I might have that will fit you.”

Out in the garage, there were some boxes that the people who had rented the house while I was in the hospital had left behind (the junk you never get around to throwing out). I searched through them and quickly found some sweats that looked like they might fit her-the shirt at least. In a second box was a large pair of sweat pants that might do the job also, some thick socks, and a blue knit ski cap. I carried these back into the living room and lay them out near the fire to warm up some.

“Julie, Honey, I’ll have some warm clothes for you in a minute - OK.” She had moved over to the sofa and had lain down. She was still crying quietly and sniffling.

“My mother threw me out,” she burst out suddenly, “and I have nowhere to go.” Then she burst out in tears again.

“Julie, Honey, it’s going to be OK. You can stay here. I won’t mind. There’s all this room, and it’s only me living here. You’re more than welcome to stay, no charge and no conditions,” I told her.

“Are you sure?” she asked between sniffles.

“Certainly, Darling, why it’s even on the school bus route. You’ll be able to ride the same bus and all.”

“How can I go to school?” she wailed. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“Oh, we can take care of that,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll go and get your clothes. Your mother won’t give me any shit, count on it.” Now I needed to get her dressed, as the towels were soaked and not helping her at all.

“Come on,” I prompted, “I’ll go in the dining room and you put on these clothes. Then I’ll come back and we can talk. OK, Sweetie?” I asked as I went into the dining room.

“I’m done,” she called a short time later. She looked much better dressed in sweats with the blue knit cap holding her red hair in check when I returned to the living room.

“Come sit here on the sofa in front of the fire,” I invited. She came over and sat beside me. “Now quietly, tell me what happened tonight.” She took a deep breath, and I put my arm around her, and drew her close to me on the sofa. She leaned her head on my shoulder and began her story. She was so nice to have near.

“Ever since my mother found out that I was pregnant, she has been after me to tell her who the father was. I always refused. Telling her that I didn’t know at first, and then that I just wouldn’t say. But she kept after me every day, all the time. Finally tonight, I couldn’t take it any more. I confessed that it was Roy, my brother. That he had raped me back during summer vacation, and had continued to use me sexually until he found out that I was three months pregnant.

“She flew into a rage and hit me in the face and slapped me several times, calling me a ‘lying slut’ the whole time. Saying that I was making that story up just to embarrass her. She shoved me, and I fell on the floor and lay there crying. My mother went to my room and emptied a couple of my drawers in my overnight case. She came back, dragged me to the front door, opened it, threw out the overnight case, pulled me up from the floor and pushed me out the door. She shouted ‘Get out, slut, and never come back’. With that she slammed the door on me.” At that, Julie started crying again.

I pulled her closer to me, and patted her back as I held her as best I could, she having the big tummy.

“Please don’t cry, Sweetie,” I asked, and kept patting her back and rubbing it in circles. After a while she calmed down again. “Tell me why she wouldn’t believe that your brother did it?” I asked.

“She wouldn’t believe it because she has been having sex with Roy for the past year, and she won’t believe anything bad about him,” Julie moaned.

I continued to hold her and pat her back trying to make her feel better, and to give me time to think. This had to be one hell of a family. I knew that the father had run off and deserted them 5 years ago or so. Was there a connection there? Had the husband run off, or had the wife driven him off? Curious and curiouser, and now she doesn’t want to believe that the son raped his sister and got her pregnant. She throws her out in the rain on a freezing cold night with only a nightie on, nice folks. Glad I never had them in my company. I had to do something with Julie though to quiet her down. No more booze though. One shot was enough.