A million thanks to Kate for all her encouragement and naughty suggestions (I don’t think so, honey!!) and to Kyrie, for fixing all my annoying mistakes. Oh where would I be without you ladies? How would I survive without our hilarious buddy chats? And speaking of chatting, thanks for all the IM’s—you all know who you are!

 

Chapter 12

On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star, like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are, how fragile we are
How fragile we are, how fragile we are

--Sting

 

The next morning, Trixie, Brian and Mart discussed it over the bowls of cereal they were unable to swallow and decided that an emergency meeting of the Bob Whites of the Glen was in order. Moms was important to everybody, and the BWGs needed to know what was going on. And truth be told, they desperately needed the support of their closest friends. Trixie could plainly read this need in the eyes of her two brothers and knew they were seeing the same lost expression in hers.

Trixie felt sick as she walked the familiar path to the clubhouse with her brothers. The many happy times she made this very same walk were completely lost to her now. Her heart felt as if it was covered with a hard coating, and it was difficult to draw in a full breath.

"Are you all right, Trixie? You don’t look so good," Brian said, looking at his younger sister worriedly and putting an arm around her shoulder.

"I didn’t sleep at all," Trixie said, grateful for the weight of his arm. She could always count on her oldest brother to be the anchor in any situation.

"I didn’t either," her brother Mart said simply. He had a love of big, complicated words, but the news the previous evening had drained him of that pleasure…of any pleasure.

"I guess none of us did," Brian sighed. The three walked on in silence, the fall beauty in sharp contrast to their fear and depression. As they approached the little gatehouse that served as their clubhouse, they could hear laughter and voices coming from inside. It made them feel even sadder that they were unable to share in their friends’ obviously high spirits.

*     *     *

"Jim, slow down," Honey puffed as she tried in vain to keep up with her brother as they walked to the clubhouse. She wondered what had him in such a great mood this morning.

"Sorry," he replied amiably, slowing his pace. He took a deep breath of the crisp air, feeling his lungs expand until they were almost ready to burst. Autumn in upstate New York—there was really nothing like it. I never want to leave here, Jim thought happily. After the meeting, I’ll see if Trixie wants to take a walk with me. And then…His heart sped up a little, and he wondered what he’d say…what she’d say…

"Hey," a voice called, and then the owner of the voice joined them, his black hair falling into his eyes as he hurried up to them. "What’s going on?" Dan asked, shoving the hair off his face impatiently.

"Didn’t Trixie tell you?" Honey asked, her hazel eyes curious. Brian hadn’t said much, just a quick ‘be at the clubhouse by 8:30’. Her curiosity was as high as Trixie’s ever got.

"Nope. Mart called me. And for once, the man of a thousand words didn’t have much to say. Just ‘can you be at the clubhouse by 8:30’," Dan replied, his black eyes curious. He had heard the underlying tension in Mart’s voice and figured whatever it was, it was big. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to stay behind this time!

"Looks like Diana’s already here," Honey remarked, seeing her palomino Sunny contentedly standing by the clubhouse. She patted his nose and spoke gently to him for a moment.

Jim opened the door, and they all followed him inside, surprised to find Diana by herself. Honey opened the curtains to let in the morning light, smiling and humming a little tune. Dan mockingly dusted the table off with the tail of his flannel shirt, flinging a little dust on Diana, who threatened him with all kinds of things. They all sat down and began to talk about the school year and how many days it was until Thanksgiving vacation, secure in the knowledge that no matter what they did, they would most likely do it together.

*     *     *

"They probably think we have something really exciting to tell them," Trixie remarked sadly, her stomach pinching at the happy sounds emanating from the little gatehouse. As they entered the dwelling, several sets of eyes swiveled towards them expectantly. The laughter died abruptly at the sight of the Beldens’ faces.

"What’s wrong?" Honey asked, frightened. Trixie opened her mouth and closed it, suddenly knowing that she would burst into tears if she said one word. Everybody rose to their feet, echoing Honey’s concern.

"Let’s sit down," Brian started, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The group sat around the table in worried silence, Trixie wincing at the contrast to their usual boisterous meetings. Will anything ever be normal again? she wondered hopelessly.

"It’s about Moms…" Brian briefly outlined the events of the previous evening to the horrified club.

"Oh no!" Diana cried, clutching the nearest arm. Dan covered her hand as the clubhouse rang with worried exclamations for the next few minutes. Mrs. Belden was a staunch supporter of the club and like a second mother to all of them.

"Guys, guys!" Brian called, waving his arms. The group calmed down and turned their attention back to their oldest member.

"Sorry, Brian. What can we do to help?" Dan asked simply. He would be all right if he could do something. That was all there was to it.

"We Beldens need to stick pretty close to home for the next month. We’re not going to be able to ride for awhile…"

"Don’t worry about a thing. Jim and I will exercise the horses everyday, won’t we Jim?" Honey exclaimed, forgetting in her worry that Jim, like Brian, was only home for the weekend.

For the first time, the group became aware that Jim had not said a word since the announcement.

"Jim?" Trixie said, looking at him for the first time. Her breath jammed up at the terrible expression in his eyes.

Brian, the future doctor, recognized shock when he saw it. "Jim…" he began.

Jim stood up so fast that his chair went flying. "Don’t….just…" he got out, then wheeled for the door, the clubhouse shaking as he slammed it behind him.

The friends sat in stunned silence. "What’s with him?" Dan, the most matter-of-fact member of their club finally asked. "I mean, this is the worst news I can imagine hearing, but what…" he broke off, too confused to continue.

"I don’t know," Honey said softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I’ll go after him." She left after giving each Belden a hug.

"I guess the meeting is adjourned," Trixie said, her voice trembling. She had been counting on Jim to help her bear it, and his running out was more shock than she could stand at the moment. It was the last thing she expected.

"We’ve got a lot to do today," Mart agreed, standing.

"Do you want us to come home with you?" Dan asked

"Thanks, but I know Saturday is your busiest day on the preserve," Brian said, answering for all three of them. Dan worked with Mr. Maypenny, the Wheeler’s gamekeeper, to patrol the preserve.

"I’ll take Bobby and the twins to a double feature, " Diana offered, referring to the youngest Belden and her younger brothers

"Thanks Di. He doesn’t know anything about this yet. We’re not sure how much to tell him," Trixie said, trying to smile her thanks. At 9, they weren’t sure how much Bobby would be able to understand. They didn’t want to frighten him, but they also knew it was unfair to leave him in the dark.

It was a sober group that departed the usually happy clubhouse. Why did Jim run off? How could he do that when I, when we, need him? Trixie wondered unhappily the entire way back to the little farmhouse in the hollow. But no answer came to her.

*     *     *

He looked beneath his shirt today
There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
He turned around to face his mother
To show her the wound in his breast that
Burned like a brand
But the sword that cut him open
Was the sword in his mother’s hand

Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself
At the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him
Courage and pain
The kind of pain that you can’t hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside

--Sting

 

"And God knows he was lucky, so many ways, and God knows he was thankful. Everything was good and better than he could have hoped for, better than he ever deserved; only, whatever it was and however good it was, it wasn’t what you once had been, and had lost, and could never have again, and once in a while, once in a long time, you remembered, and knew how far you were away, and it hit you hard enough, that little while it lasted, to break your heart."

James Agee: A Death in the Family

 

Jim stood in his bedroom and realized he didn’t even remember getting there. His head felt like it was going to explode. Fear pulsed over him in waves.

He sat down at his desk, shaking. This could not be happening. That was the thing. It just couldn’t be happening. If he refused to believe it, then it wasn’t true.

Oh God, Trixie needed me and I just bailed, he thought sadly, remembering her stunned expression as he stood up from the table. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, but the panic had completely overwhelmed him and all he knew to do was run away. That’s all I’m good for, running away, he thought savagely. He fought the urge to howl like the dog he was. There was no way he could face any of them.

He opened the bottom drawer and drew out a small box, setting it down before lifting the lid. He pushed past a few letters and ticket stubs until he found what he was looking for: an old black and white photograph, the square shape also giving away its age.

He stared into the picture until his eyes burned, remembering days he didn’t want to remember anymore…

The room was dark because the light hurt her eyes. Her face burned with fever as she looked at her only son, who stood silently staring at her from the doorway.

"It’s okay; I’m awake," she said weakly, wincing as she lifted an arm to beckon him in. The arthritis, such a common symptom of Lupus, had been getting so bad lately that she could hardly grip a pencil. She tried to smile as 13-year-old Jim walked in. He’d gotten so tall lately she could hardly believe it, his resemblance to her late husband causing her heart to squeeze for a moment. He had the same red hair and tall, muscular frame; the same nose and jaw. The only thing he had of hers was her vivid green eyes. The same eyes that were looking into hers with the worried expression he also inherited from her.

"You’re too young to be worried," she gently admonished, heaving a tiny sigh. When she was a teen, her friends used to give her the same lecture when she would worry about some of their exploits. Her late husband used to laugh and chuck her under the chin, calling her ‘concerned Katy’.

She fought back tears, not wanting her son to misinterpret them. God, she missed him so much! In fact, in spite of remarrying, she missed him so much she almost felt guilty. She suspected that it was for this reason her new husband didn’t seem to care much for her son—his very appearance a reminder of what she had lost. She resolved once again to leave the past in the past. Jonesy, for all his faults, loved her. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t Winthrop Frayne.

"It’s going on so long this time," Jim said, his voice cracking as it shifted from boy to man and then back to boy again. His mother had been fighting Systemic Lupus for as long as he could remember, but never before had a flare up gone on as long as this one. She’d been ill for weeks.

Katy wanted to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. He was right. She could feel her strength slipping away, and she didn’t know what to do. "I know," she said simply, holding out her arms and ignoring the pain she felt shooting through her shoulders. She held him tightly as he sat on the side of the bed, laying his head on her shoulder. "How’s school, Jimmy?" she asked, wanting to change the subject. She stroked his hair and prayed she would live to see him graduate from high school, her heart freezing as the thought filled her unexpectedly. But after the doctor’s recent visit, she could no longer ignore the worsening of her symptoms. Some nights it felt as if steel spikes were driving straight through her skull, the pain in her head would be so bad. Other days it was sheer torture just to walk across the kitchen floor. Oh no, God. Please. He’s already lost his father…

"I got an A on my last Geometry test," he mumbled. Are you dying? Are you going to leave me? he screamed internally. He imagined the farm with just himself and his stepfather and involuntarily shuddered. Jonesy hated him. One time, he looked up from studying to find his eyes coolly studying him with such a look of hatred that Jim felt his belly fill with jagged icicles. It was only because of his mother’s presence, he knew, that his stepfather treated him with a cool politeness. It wasn’t hard to imagine that politeness turning into open loathing…

"That’s wonderful, Jimmy." His mother continued to stoke his hair as his thoughts tumbled around his head. Far more important than being left alone with Jonesy, Jim knew that his life would mean absolutely nothing if his mother wasn’t there to share it with him. For as long as he could remember, his mother had been his biggest fan. Although she was strict, she loved the people in her life so fiercely and unconditionally he never for a second doubted it. It was simply the rock he stood on, the foundation of his life.

His father had been smart, fun and generous to a fault. Jim never doubted his love either, and when he died, it was like the sun had slipped over the horizon. But his mother was the very definition of family. She simply lived and breathed for them; their happiness and well-being the only things that mattered to her. They would walk into the kitchen after a day of tramping through the woods, and her whole face would light up at the sight of them—two redheaded males tramping dirt into her clean kitchen, their voices filling the room as they asked her what there was to eat. She’d admonish them to get out and not come back until they were fit to look at, laughing when her husband would sweep her into a dusty embrace, her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, her feet bare.

"Are you going to be all right, Mom?" Jim asked fearfully, lifting his head and gazing down at her pale face marked with a butterfly shaped rash across her cheek and nose. The last time she had a rash like that, she’d ended up in the hospital for almost a month. "Maybe you should call the doctor again."

"He was just here," she said softly, patting his freckled cheek. She was tempted to lie, but knew she couldn’t. "I…I don’t think I am, son." The doctor hadn’t come out and told her so, but she could read it in his carefully professional face, hear it in his forced, jovial tone. She sucked in her breath at the uncharacteristic look of hardness that was filling her son’s face.

"Don’t say that," he said. "Don’t think it. Because you’re not…you’re going to get better. You’re going to get better. Okay? Okay, mom?" Fear was sharpening his tone, making his voice sound much older than 13 years.

"I’ll try," Katy whispered. She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away, standing up.

"I have a lot of homework to do," Jim muttered, backing towards to the door. He knew he was going to cry, and he’d be damned if he’d do it in front of her when he knew it would only upset her and take away energy she could be using to get well. It was the same reasoning he used whenever he felt the impossible anger fill him at his stepfather’s occasional digs. Digs Jonesy very carefully waited to fling, when the two of them were alone. He’d become expert at shutting down his feelings, at maintaining a neutral tone at all costs. That his mother never know of their mutual hatred was of the highest importance.

"I love you, Jimmy." His mother’s voice seemed even weaker than before, and Jim’s heart cried out in silent pain at the sound of it.

"I love you too," he said, gently shutting the door. He didn’t know that he would come home from school tomorrow and that she would be gone forever. If he had known, he wouldn’t have spent her last night on earth doing his math and history homework, eating a silent meal with his stepfather and then going to bed, only to stare at the ceiling and wonder what was going to become of him…

The blonde woman in the photograph blurred and disappeared as the past crashed into the present. Mrs. Belden reminded him so much of his mother—the same blonde hair and worship of family, the same sweet strictness. He loved his adopted mother too—she was gentle, kind and generous, and she never missed an opportunity to help out with a worthy cause. But knowing Helen Belden was almost like having his real mother back again…

"Jim?" He heard the sound of his adopted mother and jumped guiltily—after everything she’d done for him, how would she feel seeing him with his mom’s picture? He obeyed his first instinct and hid it, feeling as if his heart would simply dissolve into a puddle of desolation.

*     *     *

"Mother! Have you seen Jim?" Honey asked breathlessly, running into the luxurious living room where her mother sat curled up on the couch, reading a letter.

Mrs. Wheeler laid the letter down on her lap, looking at her usually calm daughter in surprise. "Jim went running up to his room not five minutes ago like a pack of dogs was chasing him. What’s going on?" Her hazel eyes, so like Honey’s, were filled with concern.

Honey sank down next to her mother, throwing her arms around her neck,

"What is it, baby?" Mrs. Wheeler stroked the shiny light brown hair, rocking Honey as if she were five years old again. "Is it Mrs. Belden?"

"You know?" Honey asked, hugging her mother tighter. I don’t know what I’d do if it were my mother, she thought to herself. Now that they finally had the relationship she had always wanted, the thought of her mother being taken away from her was akin to having her arms and legs removed without anesthesia. Oh Trix, she cried out internally.

"Yes, Helen called me this morning," Mrs. Wheeler sighed, gently wiping her fingers under her daughter’s streaming eyes. "I know it’s horrible, but she’s getting the best care. We just have to pray for her."

Honey nodded. "I will," she said seriously. She looked at her mother. "Something happened to Jim. When Brian told us the news he looked like…I don’t know what he looked like. It was terrible." She shuddered, remembering the look of Jim’s face. "He ran out of the clubhouse."

Mrs. Wheeler looked distressed. "I’ll go upstairs and talk to him. Have Cook make you a cup of Chamomile tea, you look all in." She kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Go on now," she urged.

"All right," Honey agreed, slowly walking away. Mrs. Wheeler stared after her a moment, wishing she could protect her from the bad news of life. It was, she knew, an impossible dream.

 

***

 

A moment later she lightly rapped on her son’s door. Silence greeted her. "Jim?" she said opening the door a crack and peering inside to see him hurriedly shove something under his pillow. She opened the door wider and walked in. "Son? Honey told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?" She sat next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Please tell me," she urged.

Jim turned to face her, his face a study in misery. "I can’t," he said simply, rubbing his hands on his jeans. There were no words, only dog language, only howling, aching sadness. How could he tell her?

Mrs. Wheeler nodded, squeezing his shoulder. "I just want you to know that I’m here when you’re ready." She hesitated a moment. "Son, what did you hide under your pillow when I walked in?" She had a pretty good idea.

Jim slowly drew the old photograph from underneath the pillow. He didn’t speak or look at his adopted mother.

"That’s your mother, isn’t it?" she asked gently. When he didn’t answer, she went on, "Jim it’s okay. It’s all right, sweetheart." She drew his head down onto her shoulder.

"I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t want you to think that I…"

"That you still loved her? But Jim, of course you do. She’s your mother." Jim lifted his head and looked at his adopted mother, guilt and surprise washing over his features in equal measure. "Your dad and I never expected you to stop loving your other family. In fact, that’s why we decided that you should keep your own last name. To honor your roots, James Winthrop Frayne the Second." Mrs. Wheeler touched Jim’s face. "Don’t feel guilty, honey. Don’t do that to yourself."

Jim felt something hard in him break up, something he hadn’t even known was there until that moment. He looked at the smiling blonde woman in the picture, her animated face almost seeming to speak to him. What would she say if she could speak?

"You must have loved her very much," Mrs. Wheeler said, smiling at the boy who was a head taller than she was.

Jim nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"You’ve never talked much about your life before you came to live with us. You know that you can, don’t you?" Mrs. Wheeler looked into Jim’s eyes with understanding.

He drew in a shaky breath. "I don’t know where to begin," he said, laying back on the bed, pillowing his head with his arms, resting the picture of his mother on his chest. He was relieved that the English language came out of his mouth and not yips and howls as he had feared.

Mrs. Wheeler scooted back against the wall, sitting Indian style on the bed like a teenager. "I think you should begin by telling me why you left the clubhouse the way you did," she said quietly.

The sun sparkled through the windows, filling the room with light as Jim, slowly at first, spoke the words that had filled him since his mother died five years before.

 

Must once again thank my awesome editors, Kate and Kryie. You guys RULE! I owe Kyrie a check—she had to re-write a couple of my sentences!! And she wonders why I refer to her as "the goddess". All bow down to the goddess Kyrie and the plotting queen Kate!

 

Chapter 13

 

I’ve been so wrong
For so long
But I’ve seen the light
Darling, I’ll make it right
I was wrong

--Patsy Cline

 

"It was really great to talk to you too," Trixie said, before slowly hanging up the phone. She had just spent the past half an hour talking long distance to Nick Roberts, and it made her incomparably sad to realize it was more than she could say about Jim; Jim who was supposed to be her friend. Jim, who hadn’t spoken to her, or indeed, to any of the BWGs in almost a month. Since the announcement in the clubhouse, he’d fled back to school and hadn’t been home since. It made Trixie so angry that she’d actually marched into her bedroom, dug around in her jewelry box until she’d found the silver i.d. bracelet Jim had given to her after one of their adventures and thrown it in the kitchen trash downstairs, her eyes burning like blue flames as they stared down at the twinkling silver among the potato peels and other refuse.

Nick’s voice had been filled with concern as he asked her if she wanted him to fly out there and see her…

Trixie shook her head and went downstairs into the kitchen, checking on her homemade tomato soup. She stirred and tasted, deciding it was just right, sighing as she began to fix a tray for her mother. Moms hadn’t been eating well lately, and it seemed like she was almost wasting away. Trixie shut her eyes as her stomach pinched. What would she do if she lost her mother? How would she bear it?

"How did you stand it?" she had asked Dan a few days ago, as she helped him fill one of the many feed stations in the preserve. If she hadn’t left the house when she did, there wouldn’t have been a whole dish left in the kitchen.

"I didn’t," Dan replied, brushing his hands thoughtfully down the front of his shirt to shake off the stubborn seeds that clung to his hands. "I wouldn’t let any of the neighbors near me, was a mean little snot, and I hated the world."

"Oh Dan," Trixie sighed. "I’m feeling pretty mean myself at the moment." She thought about the bracelet she’d thrown away that morning and felt a sorry little pang fill her. "I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I just wish I would have known you then."

"No you don’t," Dan said, setting the seed bag down and smiling crookedly.

"Yeah, I do," Trixie contradicted. She smiled her first genuine smile in days. "You wouldn’t have scared me. I would have just said something nasty right back and bugged you until you talked to me!"

Dan laughed. "Yeah, you probably would have at that. You sure didn’t take my crap when I first moved here!"

Trixie felt like she could take a full breath again as she laughed back. "I won’t ever take your crap, Daniel."

Suddenly an entire handful of seeds exploded in her face and hair. "Then take that instead!" Dan grinned.

"You are so dead," she yelled happily, taking after him as he began to run into the preserve, Dan laughing like a loon…

Trixie picked up the tray and slowly walked into her parents’ bedroom, smiling a little at the thought of that day in the woods. Why couldn’t I be in love with him instead of Jim? He’s never once lectured me about being careful, and we’re both super interested in fighting crime. And he’s gorgeous to boot! Trixie giggled aloud at the thought and was able to smile a real smile at her mother.

"How are you feeling, Moms?" Trixie asked, setting the tray of soup in front of her mother, who sat up in bed.

"I don’t think I can eat this, honey. I’m sorry," Mrs. Belden replied, her face looking thin and haggard. Trixie sat next to her mother on the edge of the bed, her heart aching, her momentary giddiness disappearing as if it had never been.

"Oh Moms, you need to keep your strength up," she said worriedly.

"I know, but these treatments make me so sick to my stomach I’m afraid to eat anything," her mother replied, trying to smile at her only daughter.

"Just a little," Trixie urged, spooning up some of the homemade tomato soup, lifting it to her mother’s mouth as if she were a child. "Here comes the train!" she joked, rewarded by a smile from her mother.

Almost one month had gone by since the meeting at the clubhouse, the hardest month in the Belden family history. Brian had returned to school under protest, but his parents would not hear of him missing any of the semester. He returned every weekend, cheering up his family with funny stories about his dorm. Trixie and Mart raced home from school every day, eager to do whatever they could for their mother. It cheered the family immeasurably that so many people rallied around them, eager to help. Miss Trask, Honey’s former governess, insisted on watching Mrs. Belden during the day, calling on her experience caring for her invalid sister. Mrs. Wheeler was also a frequent caller, bringing delicacies to tempt Mrs. Belden’s disappearing appetite. The Bob Whites ran errands and helped with the housework, lifting the morale of the household with their enterprising good cheer. But with one noticeable exception. Jim. He had become a stranger.

Trixie shook her head, setting the tray on the nightstand as she went about the room restlessly straightening a few magazines, opening the curtains to let in the light and air.

"What’s troubling you dear?" her mother asked, a little color returning to her cheeks as the good food warmed her.

Even when she’s sick, she manages to notice when I’m upset about something. Trixie marveled. Not wanting to bother her mother, she smiled and said, "Oh, it’s nothing. Really, Moms."

"It’s not ‘nothing’ Trixie. Come on, I want you to tell me," her mother urged. Trixie slowly walked back to the bed and again sat next to her mother.

"I don’t want to bother you, Moms," she said.

"Hearing about you is not a bother, Trixie. It will bother me more knowing that something is on your mind and you’re not telling me," Mrs. Belden said firmly.

Trixie smiled at her mother. "Try keeping anything from you!" Her smile faded as she said, "It’s Jim. I just can’t believe him. Everyone has been such a help, and he…he," she broke off, upset.

Mrs. Belden nodded slowly, picking up her daughter’s hand. "You’re upset because he hasn’t been coming around," she said. It was not a question.

"Yes," Trixie said simply, staring at the floor.

"Have you tried to talk to him about it?" she asked.

"No," Trixie admitted. "I’ve…well I’ve been too…"

"Mad?" her mother supplied helpfully.

Trixie sighed. "Mad," she agreed, feeling small.

"That’s a good, honest emotion, Trixie. But Jim is one of your best friends, and I want you stop and consider things before you condemn him."

Trixie rose, pacing the room restlessly. "What’s to consider? The Bob Whites are supposed to be there for one another. They’re supposed to help in a time of need. And he hasn’t even come over! It’s like he doesn’t care!" Her voice revealed the hurt she felt at this betrayal.

"Oh Trixie, he cares. Believe me, he cares," Mrs. Belden said. She had already had a long conversation with Mrs. Wheeler and understood far more than she let on.

"Then why doesn’t he show it? Why doesn’t he come over? I just don’t get it. If anyone should understand, it’s him!" Trixie said in one breath.

"Understand what, dear?" Mrs. Belden asked quietly.

Trixie started, her face burning. She didn’t want to say what was on her mind. It was too ghastly to even think, let alone say out loud.

"If anyone should understand what it’s like to have your mother die, it’s Jim," Mrs. Belden said flatly, finishing her daughter’s thought. Trixie started to cry silently.

"Oh baby, baby, don’t cry, it’s okay, it’s okay," she crooned, holding out her arms, sorry that she’d let her attitude get away from her. Trixie went to her, holding her mother tightly. "I think about that too," she admitted, rubbing Trixie’s back. "It’s only human to think the worst. But we need to stay positive. Okay?" she finished, handing her daughter a wad of tissues. Even if I’m scared out of my mind, and so angry about the situation I can hardly sleep at night, she thought secretly. Only her husband knew she felt that way; she wouldn’t burden her children for anything.

"I’ll try," Trixie replied, loudly blowing her nose.

"Good girl," her mother responded. "And I want you to think about what you just said about Jim."

"You mean about him understanding what it means…" Trixie broke off the awful words. Her mother looked at her seriously, wanting her to figure it out for herself.

Trixie thought about what Jim had told her one time about his mother. "You’d have liked her Trix—she’s a lot like your mother," he had said. Slow realization dawned on her, filling her with shame.

"Oh Moms, he’s thinking about, thinking about…and it’s like it’s happening…"

"All over again," her mother finished, squeezing her hand.

"And I’ve thought such horrible things!" Trixie lamented. "I thought he didn’t care. Some friend I’ve been," she finished bitterly. How could she have thought for a minute that he wasn’t coming by because he didn’t care? It flew in the face of everything she knew about him. She thought about the look in his eyes right before he ran out of the clubhouse and shivered as she realized the emotion she saw there had only one name. Fear. Oh God, she’d been so very wrong.

Mrs. Belden patted her hand. "Don’t be so hard on yourself dear. This hasn’t been an easy time for any of us. Why don’t you go talk to him?" A smile lit up her thinning face. "I happen to know for a fact that he’s home this weekend," she said with some of her old mischief. She’d talked to Madeleine Wheeler just that morning, the other woman crying in relief that he’d finally felt able to visit. Madeleine had known it would take time, but she’d been almost eaten alive with worry.

Trixie nodded, leaning down and kissing her mother on the cheek. "I will. You’re the best mother in the whole world!"

Mrs. Belden smiled at her impetuous daughter. "Just remember that the next time I ask you to dust!" she laughed.

*     *     *

--Jefferson Airplane

 

I had to prove that I could make it alone now but that’s not me
I wanted to show how independent I’d grown now but that’s not me
I could try to be big in the eyes of the world
what matters to me is what I could be to just one girl

--The Beach Boys

 

Jim was engrossed in writing something when Trixie quietly opened the clubhouse door. She hated to disturb him but she knew this couldn’t wait.

"Hello Jim," she said, her voice sounding loud in the stillness, dust motes dancing in the sun streaks that lit up the room.

Jim dropped his pen, startled.

"Sorry," Trixie went on, shutting the door behind her. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, shifting from one foot to the other, wishing for Honey’s tact or Mart’s gift with words. "How are you?" she finally managed. This is going just great, she thought miserably. Jim looked at her, and he looked so sad that she forgot her discomfort, her heart going out to him.

"How’s your mom?" he asked, picking up the pen and clicking it open and close rapidly. He could hardly look at her. He’d returned to school after having a long talk with his mother, the emotions stirred so strong he had to get away and be alone with them. Other than attending class, he’d rarely left his apartment.

Trixie sat across from him with a sigh. "She’s pretty sick from the chemo," she replied.

Jim flinched. "Trix, I’m sorry," he said intensely, gripping the pen so tightly his knuckles turned white. Trixie knew he meant for everything.

"I know," she said simply. She laid her hand on top of his. "And I think I know why you haven’t…been by," she concluded.

Jim said miserably, "I wanted to, God knows I wanted to. I just couldn’t, I couldn’t…" he bit his lip, staring at the table. "You must be so disappointed in me." He turned his hand over and gripped Trixie’s hand. "I haven’t been a good friend, have I?" He’d needed the time away to get his head together, but knowing he’d let her down was killing him. How can I ever make it up to her? he wondered hopelessly. He figured taking their friendship to the next level was pretty much out of the question now and felt a tiny part of himself die at the thought.

Trixie squeezed his hand back. "I haven’t been a good friend either. Instead of calling you to find out what was wrong, I just stewed and thought you didn’t care. I should have realized how you were feeling."

Jim shook his head. "You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault. And anyway, you had enough on your mind." He felt a small flare of hope at her words. She wasn’t angry!

Trixie nodded. "I guess we’re even."

"Tell me how you’ve been; how you’ve really been, Trix," Jim said, eager to make up for his absence.

Trixie talked for a long while, telling him how scared she was, how hard it was seeing her mother lie in bed, about her long sleepless nights wondering what was in the future…

"Moms has an appointment tomorrow to see if the treatment is working. I don’t know what I’ll do if the news isn’t good," Trixie finished, burying her face in her hands.

"The news will be good. The news has to be good," Jim said passionately. Trixie laid her head on his shoulder, and they sat quietly for a few moments, the soft weight of her making him feel lightheaded, her curls ticking his chin in the most wonderful way.

It felt so good to talk to Jim about the past month. Even though she had poured her heart out to Honey, Di and Dan the past weeks, she hadn’t realized how much she needed to tell Jim how she was feeling. It’s almost like if I don’t share what happens to me with him, it isn’t real, Trixie thought in wonder.

She lifted her head. "I’m still scared, but I sure feel a lot better. Thanks Jim. It really helps being able to talk about it." She was relieved to feel that the hard coating on her heart had broken up, allowing her to breathe again.

"I know. When my mom was sick, I had no one to talk to. Jonesy avoided me like the plague; not that I really wanted to talk to him about anything anyway. She just got sicker and weaker and then one day…" Jim’s voice broke. Trixie put her arms around him and hugged him close. "I came home from school, and she was gone. Jonesy just looked at me in disgust and said something like, guess you’re left on my hands." He stood up and paced the room restlessly. He hadn’t known he was going to tell her, and he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Trixie was horrified. "Oh my God, Jim. That’s how he told you?"

Jim closed his eyes and nodded. "I guess I went a little crazy. I started smashing stuff: lamps, knick-knacks…the next thing I knew I was on the floor. I’m not sure how long."

"He…hit you?"

"The first of many times. Before Mom died he mostly avoided me, but after…he truly hated me Trix. I had to…I couldn’t afford to sit around feeling sad about her. I had to stay numb and…survive. I thought if I can just hang on until I can go to college…well, you know the rest. I ran away 2 years later and here I am." Jim attempted a wry smile.

"I guess not thinking about your mom became a habit." Trixie mused. "Is that why you’ve never talked to any of us about her?"

"It hurts so much. After all this time, I can’t believe how much it still does. When Brian told us about your mom, I guess I was just completely overwhelmed". He looked at Trixie. "I’m sorry. You’re worried to death, and I’m just going on and on."

Trixie shook her head. "You don’t have to be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about," she said passionately. "Remember, we’re supposed to be all for one and one for all."

Jim smiled. "A guy can’t lose with friends like you," he said shakily.

"Well, you’re stuck with me, Jim Frayne!" Trixie replied lightly, standing up from the table. She felt overwhelmed with emotion and could no longer sit still.

"Thank God," Jim replied quietly, standing in front of her. Before he knew what he was about, he took both her hands in his and pulled her forward gently. Trixie’s breath caught at the expression on his face, his green eyes the most tender she had ever seen them. He bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips, their first kiss, a moment Trixie had fantasized about for so long that she’d given up on its ever happening.

"I’ve been wanting to do that for a long, long time," Jim admitted, his heart pounding. He couldn’t believe how his body and mind was reacting to the impulsive kiss and then it hit him with all the force of a Mack truck. There was a very good reason he had never felt anything for those girls he dated. Trixie had sole possession of his heart. And all that time he had thought there was something wrong with him!

He remembered how he felt when he saw Trixie standing with Sean Haslam at Wimpy’s, how he felt when he saw her with Nick Roberts, and almost laughed aloud at his own sheer stupidity.

He didn’t have ‘special feelings’ for Trixie; he loved her!

Trixie smiled softly. "Me too!" she admitted shyly, her heart still beating fast. Her lashes lowered, and she gazed towards the floor, her face red and happy.

"Can we go see your mom?" Jim asked. Now was not the time to tell her. Now was the time to be there for her, not burden her with emotions she may not be ready for, or return.

Trixie smiled with happiness. "Oh yes. I know she’d love to see you. Let’s go see her right now!" She tugged on his hands, dragging him towards the door like an eager child. Jim smiled at her impulsiveness—it was one of the things he loved best about her.

He allowed her to lead him down the path towards Crabapple Farm, the sun shining so brightly through the crisp leaves as they gently fluttered down that, for a moment, it felt like a ticker tape parade.

*     *     *

"Why doesn’t Dad call?" Trixie moaned, wringing her hands.

"It’s still too early," Brian replied, pacing the living room restlessly. The Bob Whites had gathered at the farm, anxiously waiting for the results of Mrs. Belden’s tests. Even Reddy, the Beldens’ slightly wild Irish setter, seemed impatient, running from person to person and sticking his damp nose in their hands.

"Why can’t we go to the hospital? I want to be with Moms," Bobby said plaintively, kneeling down and hugging the dog around the neck. Reddy responded by licking his favorite Belden on the face.

"Moms needs peace and quiet right now; it’s better this way," Mart responded, privately wishing the same thing. His girlfriend easily picked up his thoughts with her uncanny radar, and she put her arms around him for a moment, pressing her face into his back in wordless comfort. He turned around and hugged her back, resting his chin on top of her shiny black hair.

Although it was a stunningly beautiful day, the group waited in the Beldens’ cozy living room, wanting to be by the phone when it rang.

Dan started cracking his knuckles one by one until Di hid her face against Mart’s chest, crying out, "Oh that noise just grosses me out!" Everyone laughed, and the tension was temporarily relieved.

Trixie was glad that her friends were around her, keeping her from going completely crazy. She let her gaze travel around the room, lighting on each of them.

First Honey, her best friend—it was hard to believe that that they had been friends for only 3 years. She couldn’t imagine her life without her. She remembered the skinny pale girl Honey had been when she first came to Sleepyside, so shy, nervous and timid. You would never use those words to describe her now. There she stood, holding Brian’s hand, and she looked so strong and beautiful. Trixie knew she would never have gotten through the past weeks without her.

Beautiful Diana Lynch, desperately lonely and unhappy before joining the club. She too had come out of her shell and was the acknowledged "social butterfly" of the group. Trixie smiled softly at the sight of Di and her slightly older brother. They were such an unlikely pair, and yet, it worked. She wondered if someday Di would become her sister-in-law, or if she and Mart would drift apart once he went away to college. She fervently hoped not, but if the past month had taught her anything, it was that you couldn’t be too sure of anything. But whatever happened, they would remain friends. Of that much, she was certain.

Her eyes lit on Dan, whose sullen and rebellious exterior had melted away, leaving behind an intelligent, thoughtful person with big dreams for the future. Trixie could hardly believe the change sometimes. She laughed to see Dan slyly lean towards Di, cracking his knuckle in her ear when her head was turned. The power of friendship—it’s an amazing thing she thought to herself. Next to Honey, she considered Dan to be her best friend. She wasn’t sure what was going on with her and Jim, but ‘friend’, even ‘best friend’ just didn’t fit. More like love of my life, she thought suddenly.

She finally looked at Jim, talking quietly with Brian and Honey by the fireplace and felt her face grow warm, remembering yesterday. Even though he had probably kissed her because she was so sad and worried, she still felt a small shoot of happiness break up her fear and welcomed the feeling. Whatever else happens, I am so lucky to have friends like this, she thought simply. She wondered what Jim and her mother had talked about yesterday. She had gone to get her mother a cup of tea and found them deep in conversation when she returned.

Jim walked over to her then and took her hand. "How you holding up?" he asked. He wondered what she would do if he just took her in his arms and kissed her, then admonished himself for being selfish. This is not about you. She needs her friends now, not some big idiot coming on to her.

His voice calmed her, made her feel like she could bear what was happening. Trixie breathed deeply. "I’m just glad you’re here, " she replied in her usual, honest way. "I’m glad you’re all here," she added quickly, suddenly a little embarrassed.

"We wouldn’t be anywhere else," Dan replied. Honey and Di nodded in agreement, coming to stand by her. Trixie smiled at her friends, her eyes tearing up. "Thanks," she said simply. They all jumped as the phone rang. Trixie gripped Jim’s hand tightly as her knees gave way slightly, her heart in her mouth.

The group waited tensely as Brian picked up the phone. "Dad?" he said into the receiver. Trixie held her breath. Please God, please God, please God she chanted to herself. She felt hot and cold all over.

Brian listened for a moment, his face still with concentration. He closed his eyes and Trixie felt as if she could hardly stand up. "They’re sure?" he asked. "Hold on." He put down the phone. "There’s absolutely no sign of any abnormalities. The cancer is gone!" he shouted, picking up Bobby and swinging him around and around as if her were six years old again. "She’s okay, she’s okay!" he sang out, his eyes looking happy again for the first time in weeks.

Complete bedlam ensued as the room erupted in cheers. Trixie found herself crushed between Jim, Honey and Mart in a frenzied group hug, not caring that she could hardly breathe. She closed her eyes as she felt the quick kiss that landed on the top of her head, knowing instinctively who it came from.

Dan and Di danced wildly around the room, whooping and laughing as relief flooded over Trixie in great waves, making her head spin with joy. The happy chaos continued until Dan accidentally knocked over the lamp.

"…I mean shoot!" he yelped.

Trixie laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks, sinking down to the floor helplessly, then found she couldn’t stop crying nor did she care.

Mart sank down beside her, hugging his "almost-twin" tightly. "It’s okay, it’s okay," he repeated.

"I know, I’m just so happy," she gulped, closing her eyes. Can you die of happiness? she wondered.

They each took turns talking to Mr. Belden, hearing over and over again the thankful news. Even though Mrs. Belden would have to be tested every month for a while, it looked as if the worst was over.

"Let’s fix a celebration dinner for Moms!" Trixie cried, feeling as if she could cook for a thousand people. Everyone wholeheartedly seconded her plan and quickly dove into action. Mart and Di set the table; Jim and Dan drove over the Mr. Lytell’s store for ice cream; Brian made a huge salad; and Trixie shaped hamburgers as fast as she could, handing them to Honey to cook on the stove.

"Make tons—I’m starved!" Mart said, poking his head in the kitchen.

"Don’t worry, we are!" Honey replied as the platter of burgers grew.

"I’m just glad I made those pies last night. I couldn’t sleep anyway," Trixie said, waving a hand towards the two apple pies on the counter. She felt as if she would never stop smiling.

"Oh Trix! You should have called me," Honey said, smiling at her best friend. Then she whispered, "and I have the feeling you had something important to tell me." Her voice was full of meaning. Jim had practically floated up the stairs when he returned from the clubhouse, and being in love herself, Honey recognized the symptoms all too well.

Trixie flushed. "Uh, I’ll tell you later when we can be alone," she mumbled, wondering how on earth Honey knew. Sometimes her best friend seemed almost psychic.

It was a happy group that welcomed Mr. and Mrs. Belden home later, ushering them into the dining room with a flourish. Mrs. Belden was clearly touched at the effort they had made. "You kids!" she said, her eyes shining in her thin face, hugging each of them in turn. When she reached Jim she touched his face and said, "See? I told you the world is full of happy endings too!"

He hugged her and said huskily, "You sure did." Another blonde woman, her green eyes shining softly with love, appeared in his vision, and instead of the usual ache, to his wonder and joy, he only felt the love.

Later that evening, alone in her bedroom, Trixie knelt by her bed, folding her hands together. "Thank you God," she whispered.

to be continued

 

"That’s Not Me" Lyrics & Music by Brian Wilson and Tony Asher; performed by The Beach Boys