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A Seething Cauldron

By: wistfall1



This is a fictional story suggested by a news article—"Ripped from the headlines"—as some television programs say. The names here are not taken from any actual person, living or dead.

Chapter 1

There was a time when I wasn't a quiet, uncommunicative person, but I had a hard time remembering that far back, it was so long ago. My ten year old brother, Matthew, and my two sisters, Sarah, nine, and Rebecca, eight, were also fun loving, laughing kids. At seven, I loved my siblings, our days often filled with the joy of our being. That was no more though. Everything suddenly changed.

Many years later, I found myself working in a distribution warehouse. It kept me in food and rent, paid my few bills, and best of all the workers were female including our supervisor, thank goodness. It was the environment I needed. Men still scared me. It may always be that way for me. No, I didn't consciously desire to be as I was; no one would want to be as I am.

We all used to go to church regularly with our parents. That too is a thing of the past, though not for our parents who have always been devout Christians. I hardly remember them, but when I was seven, they decided to be church missionaries, and took us along. It was like the Peace Corp, we were told; it was made to sound so exciting, an adventure that we could look back on and say that we had helped do our part in the Lord's work. That was when we were so lively and full of the joy of living and being young and carefree.

Much later, after I'd graduated from high school and left home, I found this job. It provided me with the wherewithal to survive. My life wasn't much, but I was alive, though no longer a happy, laughing person. I'm sure that many of the workers thought I was sort of standoffish since I didn't socialize with them. When any greeted me, I would return it, but I had no smile, nothing additional to say, like asking how their weekend was; I just went on.

I'm not sure if I hoped for anything other than staying alive, if barely. There were no thoughts of finding love and living happily ever after. In fact, thinking was something I worked hard at not doing, and I was pretty good at it after all the years of practice.

* * * *

"Rachel, honey, are you okay?" I heard Janet's concerned voice. She must have caught me in one of my times of being too quiet.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just thinking," I evaded. She was my close co-worker that I occasionally spoke to as needed. As much as I could, I tried to be friendly with her, but it was difficult for me.

Janet was a good person, very friendly, yet not overly so. She was here when I started, and probably just a few years older then me. Still, I couldn't bring myself to open up to her in any way other than as needed for work, but sometimes I knew that I wished that I could, she was so nice. She didn't seem to mind my quietness, and I appreciated that.

I did force myself to talk to her on occasion, but I knew that my part of it the conversations must have sounded stilted to her. It was the best that I could do, and she seemed to think that it was just a peculiarity with me. That's what I told myself was what she probably thought about my obvious reticence. Yet I knew that some inner part of me wished that I could talk more freely, be sociable, but I felt that I didn't dare.

After many months I found that I was working to be freer with Janet, I began speaking a little more than I had at any time before. She didn't pry though goodness only knows some of the others wanted to. How she was with me though had me feeling grateful to her.

Maybe that was what started making me to feel a little more sociable with her. Indeed, I'd been there a couple of years when I finally started to talk to her, little though it was. Perhaps that was what made her to keep trying to get me to talk more than I did, at least with her.

For ever so long I had lived day and night making sure that no unwanted thoughts entered into my consciousness. At night, as I tried to sleep, I was so good at forcing myself into a limbo-like state that it had become too big a part of me. Still, there was something in me that wanted more, something different, but I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that not allowing thoughts to come freely within me kept me safe, but from what? That I had no answer for, but safety was paramount to me.

Yet Janet's continuing smiles and soft voice, her always being the same friendly person, was pulling at me though I tried to block that out too. My mind could, for the most part, but a sense, a feeling, kept trying to come through. Some part of me, I began to sense, wanted, desired, Janet's friendship, her voice, her easy words, few though they were.

I wasn't cold toward her, not unkind, just not...not anything. Dull? Did I sense myself as being dull? It was nagging at me. I knew that I didn't like the shell that I was becoming. That other part of me, the one that sensed that I wanted more, pulled at me; Janet's friendliness was what was calling to whatever I had that wanted to be other than the fearful person that I'd become. Though I refused to openly think of it, I felt the pull, the desire.

Chapter 2"

Wow! I'm bushed! How about you, Rachel?" I heard Janet's voice as our work week was about over.

Like her, I was tired too, but dreading the night and the weekend of nothingness that I had forced on myself. For some reason, I responded in as friendly a voice as I could muster, all of my past considered.

"Me too. It has been a rough day."

A moment later, but just a moment, I heard her again: "You know, I just don't feel like going home though, and fighting all that traffic. How about you? What do you say we get a cup of coffee and just watch the world go by for a while?"

Something in me quickly responded, a jumping in some deep inner part of me. It was that something that was in me, but hadn't been let out in ages—now it was suddenly there and alive in me.

"Okay," I said, stunned at my word of acquiescence. For some reason it sounded good to me.

* * * *

Ordering a cup of coffee and sitting in one of the many free booths, Janet seemed quietly comfortable. For some reason or other I was content knowing that she was, and I mildly wondered about it.

"It's kinda nice watching the people and traffic go scurrying by in a hurry to get home or wherever. I mean, it's nice not to feel a part of it in a funny way," she mused. "We, people, are always in a rush these days, especially at the end of the week."

"I guess that's true," I couldn't help but agree, though I wasn't one of those ever rushing about.

I was uncharacteristically relaxed, comfortable! It was shocking to me. I couldn't remember being anything but tight and wary since we were on the mission field as it was called. I liked it, though a part of me was still on guard. Why, I wondered, did I feel as I did? Did Janet finally break through my rock solid persona that I thought was frozen into the new me?

"I'm glad you're here," she said. "I've always seen you as a nice person, though a quiet one."

I blushed, something else I couldn't ever remember doing. Still, none of what she said struck me as objectionable. Was this how it was supposed to have been all along, this being somewhat sociable, even feeling my face flush at some simple, innocuous words softly spoken? It was strange, but I found myself enjoying this newness of person.

Janet had always allowed me my space, never critical of my quietness, or my seeming moodiness as I sometimes was.

"Do you have some big plans for the weekend?" she continued, her tone casual and not intrusive in any way.

My body stiffened involuntarily and my face froze with it.

Survive! Do what I could to keep the thoughts and sights that tried to plague me for years without end from coming to the fore in me; try to keep from thinking and hope the weekend went by swiftly.

Then I caught my change, and started to revert, to be as I was enjoying myself for the first time since forever.

"N—no," I stammered at last.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Tha—that's okay; I'm sorry."

There, we were both sorry. It seemed silly, yet it wasn't.

"Honey, my asking did seem to upset you; I didn't mean to," she said softly and very sincerely.

"That's okay, and...and no, I don't have any big plans," I said as I tried to smile, something else that I kept trying to work on, at least with Janet.

I caught my thinking that I was: enjoying for the first time in forever a moment of relaxation. That thought also wasn't lost on Janet as I often went into a state of fogginess whenever I did any thinking.

"Not meaning to go where you may not wish me to, but you sort of fugued out for a few moments. Please stop me if you don't wish me to go there, but can I help you in any way, like maybe listen and let you get whatever is bothering you off your chest?"

The quiet sincerity of her words surprised me, made me feel a contrition for ruining her time of relaxing as she was doing, as we both were doing.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess up your quiet time."

"No need, honey, but I do wonder if I can be of help. You're such a nice person, and, well..."

Again, I blushed, though not badly. I hadn't let anyone in, had always kept my distance, but frankly, Janet had made me feel warm, human again, and the feeling was becoming much desired.

"Say, listen, do you have some food ready for your supper?" she asked out of the blue.

I looked askance at her; the question wasn't making sense to me.

"What I mean is," she continued, "I have some good sandwich makings if you'd like to drop by and have one with me. I don't know about you, but some company is nice when you eat, and I have enjoyed these few minutes. How about you? What do you think?"

Absent my gloomy thoughts, she was right—suddenly having some company while I ate did sound good to me. Whether it was my time working with her, or something else, I found myself agreeing with her. Had I so lacked human warmth that I could trust for too long? Was I longing for the comforting feel of another person as I thought I had before going on the mission?

Chapter 3

Janet's place, unlike mine, was cheery, the walls looking freshly painted in light colors. It had plenty of space, not like my hovel.

"Come on; you can help yourself to the makings," she said with a very inviting tone that helped me to feel even more comfortable.

"Okay," I said, smiling a little more freely than I could remember doing so in years.

I thought of a baby chick breaking out of its egg shell and looking at its world for the first time, then going out with it's mother into a yard and instinctively scratching the ground as its mother was doing, then finding a tidbit. Unable to keep from noticing that I was feeling much like a new born chick, the world seemed to be opening up to me. There was also the sense of newness and some joy of the new feeling.

She looked at me in a way that was as if a question.

"You know, that's the biggest, brightest smile I've ever seen on you, and to tell the truth, you've got one heck of a beautiful smile."

Her softly spoken words sounded sincere. My face flushed, but I felt a gladness within at hearing her words.

"Thank you," I said shyly.

"No, honey, thank you. I'm not trying to be nosy, but that is one really sweet smile. Whatever it is that's kept it from showing before, I have no idea, but I wish I knew what brought it out now so I could keep on making you keep smiling like that."

At those words, I was a bit troubled, yet my face burned, but in a good way, and I smiled more, though not a big smile such as I had before.

"Come on, let's get our food fixed; I'm starving," she said with a bright and warm smile of her own.

There was no doubt that I felt that I was opening up as I hadn't in ages. Some part of me was relishing the abrupt change that I was sensing, and though I had no idea why it was happening, I was glad. Tears began rolling down my cheeks, but they were tears of happiness, though Janet didn't know it.

"Hey, girl, what's wrong?" she worried as she came to me.

I just shook my head, looked at her in her eyes, then irrationally, I hugged her.

"Oh my god, honey, what is it?" she whispered tensely.

"I'm sorry, I just suddenly felt happy," I said quietly, my tears still falling noiselessly.

It took her a moment, but then she tried to make light of it.

"Well, I'm not sure I'd like to see you when you feel real joy," she said uncertainly with a small laugh.

"Yeah," I said, laughing lightly myself, my crying abated.

I pulled back from her, noticing that I hated giving up the warmth of her body, her person.

"Think you're ready to eat now?"

I sniffed, then wiped my eyes and blew my nose with the paper towel she gave me.

"I think so. Thank you."

"You're welcome though I'm not sure about the why of it. Come on, let's eat. Worrying for a moment made me hungrier."

I smiled again as we sat, and started eating. I had a ham and turkey on rye bread. I couldn't remember ever eating rye bread, but it was delicious as a sandwich. When we finished, we decided to split another one, then had a chocolate ice cream bar for desert. I was full. Desert wasn't something I usually ate. In fact, I was fuller than I could remember in years, my appetite had been so sparse.

"If you don't feel that you have to leave, we can sit and talk while listening to some music. Does that sound good to you?"

Again, I agreed without thought. Did I ever want to leave? Somehow I thought of it and quickly decided that I didn't. It was all a marvel to me, the feeling in my heart as if a peaceful joy had settled within me. Why? I asked it out of wonder, not out of any attempt to dissuade myself from my new found enjoyment. There was no answer, only the ongoing warmth I had within me. Then another dark picture tried to enter in my mind, and I felt my body shudder as it tried to stiffen, my face suddenly taut.

"Rachel, honey, are you okay?" I heard Janet's voice trying to penetrate that dark and nebulous picture.

"I—I think so," I answered in a distant whisper.

"If something is bothering maybe it would be good to talk about it. If you think it might, I'll be glad to listen," she said quietly, her voice full of concern again.

I had no idea why, but her voice was like a beacon from out of no where that was inviting, letting me know that I had found safety, a warm place to run to and hide. I felt that, then I heard my own voice begin talking, but without consciously intending to.

"There are some pictures that try to come to me, and they frighten me. They've tried to come to me before, but I've always shut them out, but I think now that I know what they are."

After a moment of silence, she said, "Want to tell me what you think they are?"

Again, her voice was soft, safe, I felt, though why I needed safe was troublesome, but welcome. Then it all began to pour out of my mouth.

"Many years ago my family took us on a mission, a mission to do God's work among those who needed it, and to show them God's love and his plan for salvation. I didn't really understand it at that time, not like I do now," I said and paused.

"How old were you then?" she gently prodded me helpfully.

"Seven, I think."

"What else do you remember?" she did push me, but carefully.

Tears started to soundlessly fall down my cheeks again.

"Our parents worked with the local people and us kids were taken care of by counselors. It was fine at first, but then..." my tears flooded out like a steady rain that was growing stronger and stronger. "We...had fun at first; classes, play, but then...then...it began."

"Honey, take your time if you want to go on, and if it's too much, stop. You can say it later if you want," she kindly told me.

Something in me fought, but I didn't know why, and then I did.

"No! I have to get it out. I have to," I said tersely.

For the first time, it all came out, or as much of what occurred as I knew, and much of what I found out later too.

While I spoke, I did so as if in a fog, not looking at Janet, or even thinking about her.

"We were excited as children can be when they think it's all an adventure, and that you're doing something really good for someone. At first, the counselors gave us all some classes on the local people, and some of the customs. We also got to know the other children whose parents were also on the mission. The counselors had classes and structured events for us after our parents went to do their work. They were supposed to look out for us while our parents worked. It was nice at first, but then it wasn't," the memories came tumbling out of me as they hadn't before.

"One of the kids who was usually a happy, laughing ten year old, I think, suddenly stopped being as he was. He grew silent, then quickly very withdrawn. We had no idea why, and he wouldn't talk to anyone. After that, it was a girl. She. became the same way. Matthew, my brother who was ten, started to be the same way too, then more and then Sarah, who was nine. Like Matthew, she wouldn't talk either, and kept strangely moody. The last was Rebecca; she was eight. I never knew what was happening, not then anyway.

One day I went looking for Sarah, and found her and a counselor, both naked on the bed, and he was atop of her. I had absolutely no idea what sex was, never having been told about it, or even heard anything said about it, but it didn't matter. What did matter was seeing Sarah's face. The look of sorrow and her tears running down her face that looked as if she was desperate and helpless was, I think, the picture that's haunted me since then, and that I learned to shut out."

The while I talked, I knew my tears were silently streaming down my face much as I remembered Sarah's tears.

"It was then that I began to suspect that something similar must be happening with Matthew and Rebecca. That silence, though, was picked up by all of us. It was like a long lasting virus that was suddenly there, and it made us live in fear and silence. We never talked about it among ourselves, and I just knew that it had to be the same with those other kids that were suddenly so quiet and moody. The counselors must have made sure that none would speak to their parents, or anyone else about what was being done to them.

"To make things even worse was that our parents never suspected that anything was wrong. They'd always come in tired, and simply give us a quick kiss, and tell us how grateful they were to have those wonderful counselors that were looking after us. That was a huge part of the problem, and it added to the stress of all of us. Helplessness pervaded our being.

"About the time a year was up, Sarah broke. Her mental state became much as it would be forever. As far as I know, she isn't better. Rebecca held up better than Sarah, but it took its heavy toll on her too, but it was Sarah's state that led to things being revealed. 

"We all left after whatever was said, and I do mean all. When we were back in our own home, Sarah still not better, she was taken to a psychiatrist after a doctor examined her. He had verified that she'd been sexually abused. Then we were all examined. Things became worse for Rebecca; I could only guess that she'd been abused too, but no one said anything to me, other than to ask if I had been bothered by any of the men even though a doctor had examined me already.

"It was much later that I learned more about what exactly had happened even after we returned home. In fact, since those days, it is as if my heart has feared to trust anyone. When we'd returned from the camp, and it finally came out, everyone began to look at us stranger than they had at our first returning. Oh, they'd wondered why we had come back, but when they somehow learned why, they really changed.


A Seething Cauldron



"It was funny in a way how the air in the church was just as stifling for us kids as it was in the camp, though it was a different kind of stifling. It was as if we'd returned as lepers though their attitude to our parents was all kindness and comforting to them, but not so to us, Matthew, Sarah, Rebecca and myself, that is. They were way too tentative with us; as if they were trying to be good Christians but fearful. We felt their holding back, almost as if they were fearing to touch us. It couldn't have been worse for us, especially to my brother and sisters.

"As far as I know, Sarah is still in whatever place they finally thought they had to put her. Rebecca? The last I heard of her she was on the streets and hooked on whatever drugs she could get her hands on one way or another. Matthew? Our sweet brother committed suicide. How it was that I escaped any of their fates, I can only guess that I was too young for them. My brother and sisters knew the horror of it all first hand. Me? I only felt it through them and the fear that hung so heavy in the air of the camp that we all had to breathe continually."

When I had ended speaking I had no idea how much time had passed. However much time it was, I was suddenly worn out, and ready to collapse. Then I felt her body—I had either leaned into her, or she had moved to keep me from falling over.

"Have you held all of that in you all these years?" she asked in a tender voice, then I felt her lips softly kiss high over my eye.

I nodded.

"Do you think you can take a shower? You can stay here tonight, if you'd like; I have some pajamas or a gown that are clean."

In one of my fogs, I nodded again, and followed her as she got up, I nearly fell, but she held me.

"C'mon, I'll help you get washed, okay?"

What that meant, or entailed, I didn't think about it, but before I knew it, she'd helped me take my clothes off, or had taken them off without my help. Once more, unknown to me, we were in the shower, and naked. Somehow she washed me, then helped me get out and dried me. She sat me on the bed, found panties and a gown, and put them on me. I knew then that I was in a stupor, my mind as if held by a picture-less knowing of what I had said to her.

Helping me into her bed, she kissed my forehead, and whispered: "Ill be right back."

I hadn't fallen asleep when she returned. I just felt her sliding under the covers, her body not far from mine.

"Go to sleep, honey. You'll feel better in the morning."

At her words, my eyes closed, and I did sleep, but it was fitful. After a while, I was comfortable, or maybe I should say that I was comforted, and my sleep thereafter was untroubled. I sensed that I was on a cloud, soft and fluffy, and very secure.

Chapter 4

When I woke up, I hated to think about having to get up—I loved my cloud that I had slept on. No sooner had I thought of that than I woke up with a start, my head jerking up. I had been on Janet's breast! My face felt as if it were burning up.

"I'm sorry, I..." I couldn't finish.

My sudden discomfort grew even worse when I saw her smile, but it wasn't a bad smile. Still...

"When you did go to sleep, it was very troubled. When you came to my breast you relaxed. It was needed by you, and I was glad I could help you sleep, so it worked out okay. That is if you can get over your embarrassment. Think you can?" she more said than asked, her smile not diminishing one bit.

My mind still struggled with it.

"Rachel, it's fine, honey. Don't you feel like you slept good?" she asked with her brow raised high, and that smile still there. "Well, did you?"

"Ye—yes," I admitted, "I did; at least I think I did."

"You look pretty refreshed. Your eyes look okay; much better than when you tried to go to sleep, so no problem. You slept; I'm glad I could help you do so. How's that?" she sort of shrugged, abbreviated as it was with my body still against hers.

My body! I jerked away.

"I—I..." I spluttered.

She laughed quietly, a soft and kind laugh.

"How about some coffee?" she asked. "Oh, do you drink coffee, or something else?"

Slow as I was, she waited patiently, her eyes mirth filled, even looking as if they twinkled, then her eyebrow went up again.

"Ye—yes, I drink coffee." Then suddenly I scrambled out of bed and glanced about wildly, I'm sure, needing to go relieve my bladder.

She laughed quietly again and pointed to where the toilet was.

When I came out, she was gone so I put on my clothes not thinking that the panties I had on weren't mine, then went out to the kitchen. She was there still in her gown. I wondered if she had gone to the bathroom too, and then wondered where it was at, silly as those thoughts were. They mildly flustered me though.

"How do you take it?" she asked, holding a cup.

"Cream and sugar if you have it," I said quietly, my confusion still not abated.

She put both in front of me with my cup in a saucer.

"Okay, we got that you finally slept peacefully; now do you remember talking to me yesterday?"

A weary look came over me. I didn't want to think about it, but I did; I nodded my head, and said, "Yes, I remember."

"Good. You must have needed to get it out. Now how about we drink our coffee and let all of our senses wake up?" she said with a smile.

I nodded, but then another thought came to mind and my face went up in cinders.

"Oh-oh, thought of something else, huh?" she said softly with a kind tone to her voice.

Still mildly shocked by my thoughts, I nodded.

"What is it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You...last night...showered?" I asked, looking up with my worried and troubled mind.

"Oh. Yes, I helped you shower. Honey, you were in such a daze you didn't even seem to notice anything, so yes, I helped you. Is that okay?" she asked with an uneasy voice.

As she spoke, I began remembering in bits and snatches. I had told her most of what had happened, and I remembered being as if I was living it all again. Though profoundly disliking it, still I got it out, but my memory of saying it, reliving it, did put me into a state of disbelief. Yes, I did go into a dazed fog, but that badly?

"Honey, you must have really needed to get it out, and if you wish, we can talk about it again. I don't mind helping you like that if you need to talk. Honest I don't."

Janet was being the kindest friend; maybe that's why I opened up to her. Then again, I wasn't sure about anything. No! I was sure about how comfortable I felt with her, how I was enjoying the warmth of her person. There was no doubt about that.

"Yes, that might be good," I said in a whisper.

"Okay. Now how about we fix us some breakfast? I have eggs, bacon or ham, milk or more coffee. What would you like for us to fix?"

A good breakfast such as I hadn't eaten in months was a good thing for my mood, especially with Janet's warm smile across from me. When we finished our breakfast and cleaned up what we had dirtied, we took a cup of coffee to sit on the sofa. A part of me dreaded what was to possibly come, but another part of me kept on enjoying a morning vastly different than I'd had in a long time.

With some soft, relaxing music on, my anticipation eased.

"It's nice to have company and a cup of coffee. I hope you're feeling good about being here," she said.

"I am, thank you. It was pretty stressful last night, but things seem to be better now."

"Yeah, I think you've had more than a bad time back then. It does seem to have done you good to talk about it; like you've been holding it all in for too long."

I thought about it. It had been in me for years, stifling me, keeping me tensed up and wary of everybody. I didn't think I'd stop being careful around others, but somehow I did feel a genuine ease with Janet. Considering it all, from the past, and from last night, it did feel good to have let it out. Maybe it's what I needed. For sure, Janet made me feel comfortable enough to talk about it. Did I wish to continue talking about the past and the terrors it had held for me?

Our coffee finished, she left for a moment to change into her clothes, then returned.

"Rachel, honey, I don't want to push you, but if you feel good enough and want to continue to talk more, I think you know that I'll listen. If not, we can just sit and enjoy the music and take it easy."

I thought about it again, and sensed that I did need to talk; for whatever reason, Janet was good to talk to, and not like the others when we had returned.

"I had no idea what sex was," I began. I snickered lightly. "In fact, I guess that I still don't know what sex is. When we returned, Sarah was in bad shape; she babbled a lot, but she made enough sense at times that it came out. In little or no time, it seemed that everyone in the church knew what had happened, or at least what they made from what they were able to put together from Sarah's moments of coherence.

"It turned out that what I had probably seen was Sarah being raped by the counselor. Not knowing anything about sex, I couldn't put it together, only that they, Sarah and the counselor, were naked and he was moving over her. What struck me and held me so was the look on Sarah's face, that helpless fear, a—and the silent tears. Somehow, maybe it was from the change in so many of the others, and in Matthew and Rebecca, I knew that something horrible was happening, and...and I didn't know what to do.

"I couldn't tell anyone because I really didn't know anything, at least not then. When it became common knowledge among the church members, they all gathered around our parents, but with us, we were just about shunned. It was as if they thought we had done something to deserve what had happened. Even the other kids from the church stayed away from us, looked at us as if we were lepers.

"That may be what drove Matthew to commit suicide, or at least pushed him into it. Sarah got worse What may or may not have happened to any of the others, I didn't know. I just hope that they, the kids, were treated better by their congregations. Anyway, Sarah was sent to a hospital; as far as I know, she's still there.

"It was only a few years when Rebecca turned to drugs. She didn't, wouldn't, talk to me, and neither did Matthew. It was strange; how our parents acted. As I think about it now, I sense that they were somehow enjoying all the attention that they were getting from the others.

"They had to own up to what they had let happen after some time, but I had no idea what, if anything was done to those counselors. Me? I guess since no one talked to me, I withdrew into myself. when I was old enough to understand, I withdrew even more. They did have a counselor, a psychiatrist maybe, or something like that, try to talk to me, but he didn't seem too interested, and I thought he looked at me funny too.

"When he didn't do any good, they had a woman counselor, or whatever, try to talk to me, but she was stiffer than the guy before her. It was as if they were trying to get something out of me, but why, or what, I didn't know; they just made me feel uncomfortable, leery of them. They finally stopped trying to get me to talk. They were still taking us all to church, and I thought I saw those that had tried talking to me there, but not regularly. Then it came out in the paper, but I never knew what, if anything, came of it getting out.

"After I was seventeen, almost eighteen, and had graduated from high school, I left home. They''d asked me if I would go on a mission with them. I couldn't believe it. I haven't talked to my parents since then. They had a strong belief in what they were supposed to do and decided to go back into the field. Honestly, I was incredulous, and yet it didn't really surprise me. Anyway, I think you pretty much know the rest."

As I talked, there was a slow, steady stream of tears falling down my face. I wiped at them, then saw that Janet was handing me a tissue. We were silent for a while, then Janet started to talk.

"How do you feel about it now?" she asked gently.

"I'm not sure," I whispered with my head down. "I feel odd, drained, confused, and like I can't think."

"Would you like to lay down and take a nap?" she asked.

Suddenly I felt my body trembling, my arms wanting to shake, and my hands were shaking. I held them to try to control them, then I felt my head twitching.

"Come on, honey, let's get you in bed and let you rest," she said, her voice anxious.

She helped me get up, then walked me to the bed. I looked at her with what I knew had to be a pitiful face and eyes.

"Would you like for me to lie down with you?"

Feeling fear, I nodded, but why I was feeling afraid escaped me, I just was. When we were in bed, I didn't wait for her to ask me, I just rolled into her arm and curled up in a fetal position, my face on her breast again, and no, I didn't think about it, I just moved seeking comfort, safety.

"Sh, honey, try to relax," she whispered tenderly, her one hand in my hair gently caressing it as she held me close.

It wasn't long before I was sleeping, Janet's soft and warm body making me feel secure, her breast feeling very warm and comfortable. There were no thoughts, just the need of feeling safe, and maybe belonging as I hadn't felt in all of the years since the tragedy that befell us.

* * * *

"What time is it?" I asked as I came awake.

"About eleven," she answered.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Two or so hours. How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess," my mind remembering what I'd said, and my body feeling pretty good, all things considered.

"Do you like hot tea?" she asked me.

"Yes, some."

"I have some chamomile tea that may help you refresh yourself," she said. "Think you might like some?"

"Uh, okay," I said, not sure what chamomile tea was.

The tea was good without sugar; whether it really did or didn't, I felt that it smoothed me out, helped to ease the lingering tensions, but I knew they'd be back. I was pretty much used to tension as I'd lived with it for years, but now I had thoughts, thoughts that I hadn't permitted myself to entertain before.

"Rachel, you said that your parents asked if you'd like to go on the mission with them again. What did you think or feel about that?"

I was about to take my last drink of the tea and nearly dropped the cup, the tension, and more, suddenly coming again, but more powerfully. Then I felt my face contorting and my body tightening up as it hadn't at any time since we'd returned.

"Honey, what is it? What are you feeling?" she asked, renewed concern in her voice, but stronger than before.

Looking within, I saw the feeling still welling up in me—it was more than anger, it was rage!

I looked at Janet and saw her anxious face exhibiting her worry, and maybe some fear too.

"Honey, what is it?" she whispered as her hand reached to caress my cheek.

It boiled over in me in a rush.

"How could they have done it? How could they not even think of what might happen? Did they even truly feel sorrow at Matthew's death, a death that shouldn't have been, one that they'd led him to? How could they leave again with Sarah still in that hospital, and Rebecca out on some street maybe selling herself for more drugs; maybe dead? How, damn it? How?" I screamed.

My body felt as if it was trying to explode—my tears did.

Janet was holding me close to her again, my face down against her soft and comforting breast again as I washed her top with my tears. I cried for a long time, my sobs racking my body until my ribs were hurting to where they stifled the sobbing. I had to stop.

I did stop, but then sensed that Janet had been crying with me. Her tears must have been many, and for a long time for my hair felt wet on my back.

"I—I'm sorry, Ja—Janet," I stuttered. " Sorry..." I couldn't continue.

"Hush, baby, hush. You had to get it out sometime. It's been a seething cauldron in you for much too long."

A seething cauldron! Yes, that's what it was, and had been, for all of these years. As Janet held me, and my lingering sniffling was ending, I sensed that there was a relief in me—in my body, in my mind. It was a freedom I hadn't had in, oh, so many years. As I felt the relief washing over both my physical body and mental self, I realized that Janet and I were still clinging to each other. More, I knew just how good she felt to me, how safe and warm I was in her arms. Why hadn't my parents ever made me feel like Janet was making me feel?

Allowing those thoughts to rummage through my mind, I knew that I was glad that it was Janet that was holding me and not my parents. I pulled back and looked at her, saw her tear stained eyes, and that soft, small, sweet smile she had. Then she leaned in and kissed my cheek, her kiss lingering momentarily. I heard myself sigh with the ineffable joy of feeling that simple kiss that was loving and kind when I needed it the most. I had a feeling of true belonging.

"Thank you," I told her. "How it happened, I don't know, but I feel as if I'm somehow, someway, free."

"Talking does do one good, I take it," she said with her ever present smile that I was adoring.

"It seems so," I said.

"Were your parents big believers in the Old Testament law?" she asked me.

"Yes, I think so. The whole church was, as well as in the New Testament."

"Well, it's a good thing that they didn't follow all of the laws of the Old Testament, if what I heard is true."

"What law?" I asked her.

"I've never read it, but I heard that in the book of Exodus, there is a verse or two where Moses tells about the law of a father selling his daughter, but not of selling any son."

A man could sell his daughter? That was so odd; then there was that of nothing being said about selling a son.

"You didn't read it, but it's in Exodus, you say."

"Yes, I think so."

"It's a pretty big book; do you remember where it's supposed to be?" I asked, interested for some reason or other.

"I'm not sure. Uh, chapter twenty? Maybe twenty-one? Something like that."

"Do you happen to have a bible?"

"Hm, yes, somewhere. Hold on, let me look."

Shortly she brought me a King James Version, and I began looking. How could a man sell his daughter? Scouring it, I went through chapter 20, then into twenty-one. There I quickly found it in verse seven—it was true. For some reason or other this seemed significant to me. It also outlined the rules of selling through verse eleven, then went on to something else. It was true, there was nothing about selling a son. It was ridiculous—ludicrous! But it was there.

I sat and let it sink in.

"Do you know a lot of your bible?" she asked me.

Thinking about her question, I had to admit that I didn't.

"No! I guess we were told what was in it, what they considered important, I guess, and we believed it. We had some classes, but I can't say that I remember much of what was said save that Jesus is our savior, we had to repent of our sins, and accept him. Oh, and be baptized."

"Which you were, huh?" she asked plainly, not really asking to know what she already figured out.

"Yes. It was just before we left on the mission. I know I felt something special, that we were doing something very worthy, something for God, for our faith. All of us did. I remember us being so happy and everyone coming to us and welcoming us though we'd always been there. How silly that seems now, but I was a kid then."

"Why does it seem silly now?" she asked.

"I guess because we really didn't know what we were doing, at least I didn't. Then there was what happened to us, and how they couldn't see that it might happen, and how unprepared we all were. Oh, god..." I cried again, my head in my hands.

"Janet, I felt that rage that I had trying to come on again. There's just so much that's wrong with all of this. So very wrong. I want to be mad at my parents, the church, those evil men, and everyone in the church and how they acted toward us, but treated our parents as if they had been set on instead of my brother and sisters. I don't know. I just don't know," I said, the sorrow of it all coming back as if new, as if it happened after we returned.




A Seething Cauldron



As was getting to be the usual case, Janet was holding me, and I was washing her top with my tears again.

"Rachel, honey, it's going to be better soon. It won't be easy, but it'll happen."

At last I pulled away from her. "I guess I better leave now. I've put you out enough."

"Is that what you want to do? Do you really want to leave, honey?"

Put like that, my indecision said outwardly that I didn't; my heart said the same thing, but I'd been enough trouble to her.

"You know that you don't have to leave, don't you? In fact, it would be better for you, I think, if you stayed. You haven't been any trouble to me at all. In fact, though what you've told me isn't the most wonderful of things, I'm glad you felt good enough about me to talk to me. I'd like for you to stay if you would."

I looked at her in disbelief, my eyes already telling her how grateful I was to her, and my head nodding.

"You'll stay?" she asked.

"Yes, if it's no bother."

"It's no bother, you're no bother, and I enjoy you being here, subject matter aside, that is, but it has to be dealt with, right?" she asked with her perennial smile.

Chapter 5

I couldn't believe it, but it was making my heart fill with that special joy again. We sat there wordlessly the while she held me fast to her, and I let her cradle me as my heart sang. I wanted to worry about the too swift swings in my feelings, my moods, but it was too good to stop and think.

Oddly, or maybe not so odd, we talked about the bible, but quietly and without any dramatics from me.

"I guess that's how it must be with a lot of church goers," she said. "A lot of believing and not a lot of knowing what the bible says."

"Why do you say that, excluding me, that is?"

"I think I tried reading the bible once, but right off, it was too much. It didn't make sense. Maybe I shouldn't have started with the Old Testament. I tried Genesis, but quickly went to Judges, left that in a hurry, and tried Isaiah, I think it was. That didn't make sense either. It might have been better if I'd read a gospel, but I never did believe it—too much that's hard to take seriously," she said.

"It was always said to be real, and I never questioned it, at least not for a long time. I think that it's just been recently that I've actually thought of it, but not a lot. I hated to think. This is the first time I've not only talked, but done some thinking, but there's a lot of confusion in my mind. It's sort of like I'm a child again, thinking wise, that is," I qualified it.

"It's understandable; you've gone through a lot, Rachel, and your sisters and brother too."

"It all still feels so strange, just talking, and wondering about the bible, and all I've been sensing and feeling yesterday and today."

We talked a little more, then had dinner—hamburgers, which I loved, then sat and let it go down. While it was still early in the evening, she had me take a shower, but alone. Still borrowing her clothes, clean panties included, I was ready for bed. I left the bedroom for her. Shortly she came out too.

"Ready for bed?" she asked. "Come on, honey, maybe we can talk some more until we wear ourselves out."

That was an invite that I hoped she would make—meaning us being in the same bed, that is. I slid in and then she did. I found myself longing to have my cheek on her breast, but satisfied myself with being close to her. She was rapidly becoming like a security blanket to me, one that I loved.

"Honey, I'm glad you came over. I mean it, but I think I'd better tell you something. I hate hiding anything, and now especially with you."

"What?" I asked, my head lifting quickly.

"I'm a lesbian," she got out in a huff that told me that she didn't really want to say it.

I thought about it; I had no idea. In fact, I'd never met a lesbian, or knew much about them.

"That means that you like girls, right?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes, like many of them, others I don't, but some I love, and that's what makes me a lesbian if you're not familiar," she said as if still sorrowful telling me about it. "I think too much about you not to tell you."

I thought she meant that she liked me too much to not be honest with me about it.

"I know that I must be one of those that you like or you wouldn't be telling me, huh?"

"Yeah, that's right. These days most churches preach against any who aren't straight, or heterosexual, that is, and I bet your church doesn't like them either."

"Uh-huh. They've preached against it, sometimes a lot."

"If it does make a difference to you, you can sleep in the other bedroom. I'm sorry, honey, but I had to be honest with you."

"Does that mean I can stay like this with you if I want to?"

"Yes, if you're not uncomfortable being here."

"D—does that mean that I can sle—sleep on you like I have?"

"Yes," she said, seemingly ready to be happy, or maybe relieved that I didn't seem to mind.

"Good. I know I wasn't able to sleep until you had me against you. I loved being like that," I said happily even though my mind was still processing the newness of this information.

"You can do that anytime you want to," she said somewhat nervously. "I've enjoyed you being at my breast and holding you."

It surprised me, my action that is, but I loved it. I moved close to her and no sooner had I started to move than her arm went about me taking my face into her breast. More, I snuggled into her and we both let out a sigh of contentment. I was happy.

"Janet, did you talk to me because you're a lesbian?" the question suddenly came to mind.

"No. Not at all, though I find you a very attractive woman. I'd like to think that most would talk to you as I have, if we can omit those of your church, or maybe other churches as the case may be."

"No one has ever told me that they think that I'm attractive. What I told you is the truth, they literally acted as if they were shunning us, me in particular since I stayed there. It's strange to me to hear you say that I'm attractive. Truly it is."

"They shouldn't have treated you like that, and in all honesty, you're more than simply attractive. I think most people see you as beautiful. Don't tell me that no one has ever tried to hit on you," she said, but wondering.

"Maybe they have, but I've always shied away from everyone; pretty much refused to talk to them."

"You make it sound as if you've run away from people," she said with a little disbelief.

"Actually, yes I have, or walked quickly away from them."

She hugged me more firmly to her, my face squashing into her breast. It felt good, sweet, that is. I really liked it, how she held me, and that quick hug made my heart leap.

"Maybe that'll change for you now."

"I don't want it to change," I blurted out. "I don't want to be with anyone else."

It shocked me how quickly I was worrying about someone other than Janet holding me. That, too, was strange and something very new to me. There was so much that was as if being thrown at me that I hadn't ever known or thought about before.

"Honey, what I meant was that you needn't run away, or walk away quickly if someone starts to try to talk to you. It doesn't mean that they all want to hold you. Well, some men might like that; maybe a lot of them," she laughed lightly.

"I guess I'll have to get used to that then, huh?" I said.

She laughed softly again. "Some, maybe. Ready to go to sleep now?"

"I guess," I said, once more snuggling closer to her, my top arm pulling her closer to me if that was possible.

"Good night, honey. Sleep peacefully," she said and kissed my head, something that was also new to me, and very much liked.

"Good night, Janet, and thank you," I said, nearly moving to kiss her breast. Though I stopped it before I even moved, I wanted to and wished that I had.

Chapter 6

Waking up, I was so happy feeling Janet's breast at my face. I know that I moaned quietly in my joy. Such a simple thing, but something that I hadn't even dreamed was possible. I remembered her telling me that she was a lesbian, but I knew that I didn't care; it just didn't bother me one whit.

"Are you wide awake?" she asked me.

"Uh-huh! Wish I wasn't, but I am."

"We can stay like this if you'd like, that is until your bladder starts screaming at you, or me," she added at the end.

Feeling free with her I nuzzled her breast and sighed my contentedness.

"That felt good," she said unabashedly.

"Yeah, to me too," I agreed, also unabashedly.

We stayed as we were save that Janet's one hand was busy in my hair, her arm into which I was cradled occasionally tugging me gently further into her breast. The sense of joy that kept coursing through my body, not to mention my mind, was so new and welcomed that I wished I could remain as we were forever. Thinking about that, I felt no qualms, no shame, just happiness that hadn't been mine since forever.

"Oh-oh, gotta go," she said and unscrambled from me.

As she left, my sense of comfort with her had me letting my gaze linger on her person as she walked away. For the first time I was noticing her. Though she had on a sleeping gown that covered her to her knees, it nearly hugged her body. My eyes were appreciating that body, its near slenderness, as well as her calves and ankles and feet. What I saw filled me with pleasure that I'd never known, an enjoyment that captivated me.

When she came out to wash her face and hands, my eyes again took leave to observe the rest of her as best I could. As she leaned over to wash, then rinse her face, I gulped as I noticed that breast that I had so recently come to love having my face rest on. She did indeed have what looked like fairly large breasts. When she raised up, I also noticed that they seemed to be pretty high on her chest. My breath was catching, shallow, and my eyes rapt on her. Quickly, lest she catch me ogling her, I turned away from looking at her.

Still, when she was coming back, I heard her voice.

"You ready to take your turn now, or do you want to stay as we were?" she invited with that sweetest of smiles that had been starting to enchant me so much.

How quickly things were changing for me; how fast my mind was awakening to all that I had previously refused to look at, to notice, to question. Then it struck me, for whatever reason, that I was glad that she was a lesbian. My heart beat quickened with delight, but I didn't know why it should.

Leaving the bed, I avoided looking at her. I felt my face flush, my breathing shallow.

"Are you okay?" she noticed.

"Uh-huh," I responded as I moved past her, glad to be away from her inquiring eyes.

Why I was reacting as I was troubled me. Taking my time, I finally had to get up and wash. As I did, I saw her with her top on, and bending to put her pants on. My breath caught in my throat—the sight of her panties covering her bottom arrested my eyes as I realized that she had a more than lovely form, a most sexual one. I nearly stumbled as I turned away lest she catch me gawking at her. When next I looked up, she was thankfully gone. No, I wasn't honestly glad that she was gone, I was just relieved to have a reprieve so I could get myself together, to think of what all was going through me, yet I still had to go and face her in the kitchen.

"Here you go," she said holding out my cup of coffee.

"Thank you," I said, continuing to avoid looking at her.

"Are you okay? You're acting a bit distressed," she asked quietly, looking intently at me.

"I was just thinking," I said, then followed it up with some other truth. "Until you asked if I'd like to have a cup of coffee to relax after work, I had been...well, so closed off to everyone and everything. Then I began to notice you, people, things, and to think a little, something I had refused to do for so many years.

"I'm not sure why, or how, but suddenly you made me feel as if I could talk, to tell of myself, to open up; slowly, yes, but surely. It's almost overwhelmed me. In talking, I sometimes acted as if I were a little girl, felt like a little girl, then I was the grown up me. That kept on happening within me—I was like a yo-yo, up, down, then up and down again over and over. It's been kind of dizzying."

"That's what you needed to do, I guess—doing the talking that you never allowed yourself to do before. I don't know why, but I'm glad I was able to help you get some of it out, but sorry that it's made you feel like you've been spinning about so much," she said. "How do you think you'll be after this?"

It meant that I had to go home and stare at myself again, but this time not in emptiness, but with thoughts that I wasn't used to in any way, or, in fact, not at all. My face fell.

"Maybe we can talk about it again today and tonight before we sleep. Oh, do you feel like staying here tonight and going to work with me in the morning?" she asked.

Again my heart leaped with joy. Another swing upward in my mood, but joy wasn't something I questioned.

"Do you think I can okay?"" I asked hoping she would say yes, fearful that she might rethink and say maybe I shouldn't stay.

"Why not? We can wash your clothes and let them dry afterward, or in the night. I can't see why you couldn't, unless you think it best not to. I don't mind; in fact, I'd like it if you stayed, I've so enjoyed your company."

I know my face lit up in happiness for she smiled and looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I guess that means that you like that idea, huh?" she teased me.

I could only nod my assent.

"Good. God, girl, I have so enjoyed you being here," she said tensely, as if a confession.

"Th—thank you. I'm glad you have, and I've enjoyed being here with you. It's all been so new, so different. So many ups and downs, but I feel like it's been so good for me. You've been good for me. I'm sorry I never spoke to you before," I said.

"Well, you did speak to me—like "Hello"—though almost too quietly," she kept on teasing me.

My face lit up in flames in my remembering and being embarrassed of the truth of it, still, I smiled.

"Yes, honey, you're opening up, and so beautifully, too," she said, a hand reaching out and gently caressing my cheek quickly.

That touch like the others made my heart palpitate wildly. The sensations that I was feeling added to that yo-yo effect, but as it was beginning to be with me, I didn't care, it felt so good to me.

We had breakfast, then coffee, after which it was time to talk, but about what was unknown. Janet seemed to know though.

"Your world has been spinning madly these last couple of days. What do you think about taking a walk to help our breakfast go down?"

"Okay," I said, thinking it might be a good thing.

"There's a park a couple of blocks away; you up to it?" she asked.

"Sure."

It was another new and different thing. Yes, I'd been on a mission to a different country, but I'd never just been for a walk, at least not that I could remember. We reached the park, a fairly large community one that had a path for walking or running. We walked. After a bit I noticed that I felt it to be exhilarating. I detected a small smile across my lips and enjoyed the exercise, no words needed. After a good walk, we stopped at a bench and sat.

"So how was it for you?" she asked.

"I loved it. Would you believe that I've never done something like this before? It's another new thing for me."

"Your yo-yo's up, huh?" she teased me.

"Yes, it's up. Sort of way up," I grinned.

"Hey, that's the first grin I've seen on your face. You are changing."

"I think that you're right, or at least I'm learning and doing new things. So many, many years of darkness and suddenly so much light. It's incredible," I said, looking up at the sky, my arms going out as if to embrace the day.

"You know, from what you've told me, I guess I'd have to say that it is rather incredible, but a nice incredible," she agreed.

"I just wish I had talked to you sooner," I lamented.

"I wish I had invited you sooner," she said, meaning that first cup of coffee we shared.

I thought of it all for a moment.

"You know, I don't think I'd have accepted before that; I just wasn't ready, I think. When you asked me if I wanted to go, it shocked me that I said yes. There was nothing in me that prepared me to go out with anyone. In fact, I had never thought of it. I always did what I could to keep from thinking, and I got pretty good at it. No, I think that for whatever reason, I was ready, at least with you. I don't think I'd have accepted from anyone else."

It was true. Perhaps it was Janet's continuing patience with my silence, my reticence, that finally made me intuit that I could be comfortable with her. Why that might have been was unknown to me, and I'd probably never know, but it was alright with me. I was enjoying being happy, something I hadn't been for ever so many years.

We walked some more and in silence, content to be in each other's company, but about the time we were nearly worn out, it was time to go back. We had enough energy to return in good fashion.

"That was nice, Rachel. I enjoyed it. Maybe we can do that again some time. What do you say?"

"That'd me nice; yes, very nice," I said still feeling euphoric. Maybe the exercise that I seldom did helped, those endorphins I had read about giving me a high—sending my yo-yo up very high. Then again, maybe it was just doing something new with Janet. Yes, I had to consider that. She had so instantly become so important to me. That she was a lesbian didn't matter—or maybe it would, I was becoming so drawn to her.

After we were back, I considered the weekend: there were so many times when I stunningly opened up, starting with that fateful cup of coffee that brought me a sense of comfort for the first time in a long, long time. Then there were the realizations that I allowed myself that took me down to depths that I had heretofore carefully avoided by refusing to think. All I can surmise is that we're not made to walk around with blank minds, though I did for many years.

But the happiness and peace that I had while walking stumped me until I thought that it must be my mind's way of gathering itself, of allowing itself to survey what had gone before it, and to find ways to cope, to adapt, and to make peace with oneself if possible. Luckily for me, it was possible though I knew that I wasn't out of the woods as yet. I would still have to face my time alone in my place, away from Janet's comforting presence in my life. In short, I would have to give up hiding, the intentional not thinking, and face what was there to be faced, to see what had been thrust on me by circumstances.

For the rest of the day and into the night, I had some wonderful time to spend with Janet, the beauty of her person, her warm and easy smile that was enchanting me, drawing me as I had never been drawn before. It was too soon, too quick, I knew, but I also knew that I was falling in love with her, but whether it would be reciprocated, I had no idea as yet. She liked me, that I knew, but though I knew little of love, I suspected that it was much different than just liking.

"Oh boy, let's see, I have some potato soup that's left over and needs to be eaten. Do you think you'd like to have it and a sandwich for dinner," she asked.

"Okay. I've never had it, but I like potatoes," I said, my smile becoming more regular. That new part of me I loved for it felt good to smile, so natural.

"A ham on rye sound good too?" she asked.

"Wonderful," I said, happy to be near her as I was.

After we ate and cleaned up, we relaxed for a while, spoke some about our walk, and listened to her music that played softly in the background of our conversation, and soon it was time to shower. We had accumulated some sweat, and along with it, some dust, I was sure.

"Put your clothes out and while you're in the shower, I'll put it all in the wash, okay?"