Well before their Christmas break, the girls had fallen into a Friday routine of going to the Public Library. Only a few blocks from school, they would walk over and spend the afternoon looking through the Time-Life picture books and atlases, finding fun facts, or watching the cool filmstrips that came in every week. After their first couple of weeks, they made a standing arraignment with Linda's father to pick them up on his way home from work.
For Linda, visiting the library was like walking an Ethiopian refugee into a supermarket and telling them to grab a snack. Combing through shelves packed with knowledge, ideas, and stories, she gorged herself. Linda usually acted as their guide, with Sharon deriving as much pleasure from Linda's enthusiasm as from any thrill of learning. In many small towns, weekly library excursions might quickly grow dull, but Metuchin's library exceeded anyone's expectations – thanks to the generosity of its benefactor: Titus Dwight.
In the summer of 1949, after Gloria's meltdown at his Fourth of July party, Titus made his first trip to India. He'd suppressed his desire to travel there for years. Initially planning to go after college, The War instead carried him off Europe. Then when he returned home, the sub-continent erupted during its struggle for independence. When he finally did go, violence persisted. How dangerous could it be, he thought? Although, like many in his generation, after facing the front lines during WWII, his bar of what constituted danger was set relatively high.
Titus planned on touring India and Nepal for six months but ended up staying two years, most of which he spent in the low Himalayas. Once he did leave, rather than returning home, he went to England to study at Cambridge University, obtaining an advanced degree in Psychology. While Titus took his studies at Cambridge seriously, his time in England rekindled a love he picked up during the war. He joined Triumph Motorcycle's factory racing team.
Titus had dutifully enlisted in the army the day after he graduated from Harvard in the spring of 1942. Knowing him to be an avowed pacifist, a friend of his late father had arranged for a stateside desk job in intelligence. It was an offer Titus politely refused. Instead, he spent the war atop an iron horse delivering messages along the front lines. While never requiring him to shoot a weapon, his duties were not for the faint of heart. However, Titus concerned himself less with Nazis shooting at him than the karmic repercussions of taking another man's life. His fellow curriers, mainly Brits who had joined the courier corps out of a passion for motorcycles, took to the gangly, pacifist; and Titus quickly earned a spot as one of their own. After the war, several of his war buddies went to work for BSA's Triumph Motorcycle Division, and when Titus ended up in England, they again took him in. He would have stayed longer, but his racing days ended after a serious wreck, an irony he enjoyed with a laugh years later.
"I made it through the war with barely a scratch," he would say about his days riding along the battle lines on Triumphs, Indian Scouts, or when the need arose, appropriated BMWs. "We rode down bombed-out roads in all imaginable weather. Then, ten years later, I nearly kill myself on the test track behind Triumph's factory in Birmingham."
While Titus's concept of the universe's inner workings allowed him to see his accident more as an amusing sub-plot than a life-changing development, it still ended his racing career. He required a trip home in any case. He hadn't set foot on American soil in five years, and an obligation compelled him to return for his 32nd birthday. Not to celebrate his birth; his trip constituted more of a business affair.
Orphaned a week shy of 14, Titus had lived off a very generous allowance from his father's estate. The birthday he returned home marked the date he gained control of the principle - some 37 million dollars. Titus never believed the money properly his, and for years had considered what to do with his inheritance. He'd thought of using it to ease the burden brought on by the poverty he saw in India, but time changed his feelings. In the end, he chose to use the money to help those whose work helped his family amass the small fortune, the people of Southern New England.
Titus funded many projects upon his return, eventually giving away 75% of his inheritance. Atop his list of projects, he placed the expansion of the Metuchin Public Library. The money allocated to the library was a pittance compared to other projects he initiated, like the Pediatric Medical Ward at Yale. Yet, it held a special place in his heart.
Metuchin's original library, a one-room, white clapboard structure built on the town square in 1764, had served the town well. But Titus believed education would be crucial for New England's transition from the mills and factories that had made his family so wealthy. So, believing the small library no longer satisfied the town's needs, Titus paid for a modern addition – three times the size of the original building. Moreover, to keep the new space up to date, he funded a trust for Librarians, the continual purchase of new books, reference materials, and an array of children's programs.
Titus kept nearly all of his philanthropy anonymous, making an exception only for Metuchin's library. He remembered going there with his parents and dedicated the new wing in their honor. And that is precisely where Linda Stapelton and Sharon MacCalaster were drawn to on Friday afternoons 12 years later – the Lillian and William Dwight Room at the Metuchin Public Library.
The girls didn't always take out books on their afternoon visits, although Linda usually picked out something. And when they did, their library cards were an unnecessary formality. Mrs. Kweller, the Librarian, hired when the new wing opened, knew the townie kids by sight. She had sixty or more regulars, none of whom she treasured more than Linda. Still, Linda felt funny checking out books after putting her card in the basket they made for Titus and started asking Sharon to take them out for her. Sharon went along with the game for a few weeks, then decided to end Linda's silliness and discover what happened to people who lost their cards.
At close to 5:00, Sharon and Linda went up to the counter, "Mrs. Kweller, what happens to people who lose their library cards?" Sharon asked, setting a couple of books on the counter.
"Well, Sharon, I have a large wooden paddle in the back," Mrs. Kweller said with only the slightest of smiles creeping in. "I hold the young lady here until after we've closed and spank her. I wait until we close, though. This is a library after all, and sometimes the screaming is unbearable."
The girls snickered. They adored Mrs. Kweller; she treated them dearly, particularly Linda, who she referred to as the 'Gemstone of Metuchin.'
"Unless the girl in question is named Linda Stapelton," she continued, reaching into the drawer of the library's main desk and taking out a card already made out in Linda's name. "In that case, I give her a new one."
"How did you know I lost my card," Linda asked in amazement.
"My dear girl, I've watched Sharon check out your books for the last three weeks."
"How did you know," they asked in unison, believing they'd pulled off a clever charade.
"A new Nancy Drew Mystery," she said, picking up the books Sharon had placed on the counter. "Sharon, this is actually yours. But this Anthology of Greek Mythology is certainly Linda's. Do you think I don't know what kind of books you two read?"
As Mrs. Kweller finished, a stirring came from the small office behind the counter. "I bet I'd get the paddle if I lost my card," they heard a familiar voice saying.
The girls looked at each other in nervous anticipation as the door opened, and Titus walked out dressed in a sports jacket with patches on the elbows and wearing a necktie. They thought he looked like a grown-up, except for his shaggy hair and wrinkled khakis.
"Mrs. Kweller, I've signed everything you told me to. It would be much easier for all concerned if you let the bank change things, so you signed the papers and checks yourself."
"Now, Mr. Dwight, you know I wouldn't be comfortable with that. I don't think it would be proper. And if I did that, you might never come in and visit with me."
"I have an idea," Titus said, winking at the girls, "I'll promise to visit, you promise to call me Titus, and on Monday, we'll go to the bank to make you a signatory."
"Well, Mr. Dwight," Mrs. Kweller answered, emphasizing the mister, "I'm your employee, and you refuse to call me Dorothy. No, I think we'll leave things just the way they are, thank you very much."
"You don't work for me; you work for the Library!"
"You, Mr. Dwight, sign all the checks and official papers for the library. Isn't that what you said you were doing in there?"
"That's only because you won't, and I call you Mrs. Kweller because... because that's what it says on your desk," Titus said, pointing to the nameplate on the desk.
"Oh that," Mrs. Kweller said, turning towards the girls who were snickering at the adults bantering. "That's the nameplate Mr. Dwight bought me when I first came to work for him here ... in his library."
Titus looked at Linda and Sharon smiling, "I'm not gonna win, huh?"
"No, but at least you tried," Sharon said. "And you should be careful, remember she has that paddle in the back."
Titus came around the counter and stood between the girls. "See, they're not afraid to call me by my name. I don't see why after twelve years of working together, you should find it impossible. It's really a very simple name, only two syllables TI-TUS."
Mrs. Kweller shook her head. "Mr. Dwight, don't make me get the paddle," she said, then looking at Linda asked. "And how do you two know my friend Mr. Dwight?"
"From the beach," Linda answered quickly, concerned she and Sharon would be in trouble for their familiarity with Titus. "We're friends from the beach."
"The beach? I've heard about the beach. I've never been there, though; you see, my boss makes me work day and night here in his library. It leaves me with no time to go anywhere else." Mrs. Kweller said, casting a suspicious grin toward Titus.
"That's it," Titus said, turning around and placing a hand atop each of the girls' heads and spinning them around too. "There's no winning here. Let me show you two a couple of books in the back."
Titus knew Linda and Sharon visited the library. He even occasionally scanned the list of books Linda took: forwarding the titles that impressed him in his weekly letters to Robin. A personal intrusion he saw solely as caring. He hadn't seen the girls since pulling Linda from the ocean and came to do the library's books on Friday specifically so he could run into them. Once out of Mrs. Kweller's earshot, all three started laughing. "She may be the sweetest woman I've ever known, but in twelve years, I haven't won a single argument," Titus said barely above a whisper.
"That's cuz she's like the smartest person in town," Sharon whispered back, still not sure they'd cleared the range of Mrs. Kweller's legendary hearing. "She knows just about everything there is to know."
"She's getting pretty close," Titus said. "When I was young, we didn't have a Librarian. Volunteers ran everything. My mother and other ladies in town would come in a couple of afternoons each month." Then, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, he bent down to be closer to them. "What you said in your note is true. We are from Metuchin, and sometimes I forget that. I want to tell you that the gift you made me is one of the most wonderful things I've ever received." Titus paused for a second. "And Linda, for you to give me the medallion you won last summer; well, I'll treasure it forever."
Titus had placed the girl's basket on a pedestal in his foyer, a spot it held for the rest of his life. For years, a small bronze Rodin casting had been there. Titus moved the nude of Camille Claudel above one of the fireplaces. Later in the week, a friend asked why he replaced the Rodin with a basket of trinkets. He responded that he valued the basket far more and left the conversation at that.
"Thanks, Titus. You know, you kinda saved my life and all."
"Oh, you'd pretty much gotten yourself out by the time I got there."
"Yeah, and then she would've frozen to death," Sharon said. "You were like a Superhero. It's a bird. It's a plane. No, it's Super-Titus."
Titus blushed a bit at Sharon's outburst, and anticipating a shushing from Mrs. Kweller, looked back up the aisle, then directed the girls to the study tables in the back of the library, grabbing a book for each of them along the way. When they sat down, he handed Linda the first book. "Linda, this is a book on Yoga. Remember the stretching exercises I showed you at my house?"
"Yeah, I've been doing them at night, sometimes in the morning too." Linda proudly declared.
"That's great. There are lots of others in here. I thought you could see which other ones help. You're going to see Dr. Colson soon, aren't you?"
Linda glanced at Sharon, neither of them willing to let Titus's comment pass. "How do you know my doctor?" Linda asked, with a crackle of concern in her voice.
"Oh, don't worry; I knew Ben long before he became Dr. Colson. We went to school together when we were your age."
"Oh, right, that's how you know Robin?" Linda asked, beginning to put together the pieces of relationships she felt were puzzled all around her.
"Sort of. We all know each other," Titus said. "I saw Ben the day after your little mishap. If he says anything about it, I'm the tattletale. And I told him about the exercises I showed you. He thought they might be good for you too. I also sent a letter to Robin and told her how much you looked forward to seeing her this summer."
"You didn't tell her, you know, about my falling in the Water?"
"I may have mentioned it; why?" Titus said.
"Great, she'll never let me hear the end of it," Linda said, turning to Sharon. "She always teased me about silly things, not in a mean way. I don't think she's ever been mean to anybody."
"You're right. I don't think she has," Titus said, nodding. "Now, Sharon, this book's for you. You'd said your grandmother passed away recently, and you had questions about where she went. What happened to her. Maybe this will have some answers that'll make sense to you."
"Wow," Sharon said, pointing to Titus's name on the cover. "You wrote this?"
"I didn't exactly write it. I just helped put it together. This is a book about what others said happens to us; where we go, when we pass out of this world."
"So, where did Grammy go? Cuz when she told me she was sick and was, you know, gonna die, she made it sound like she knew." Sharon said.
"Your grandmother was Catholic, right?" Sharon nodded, opening the book and looking inside as she listened to Titus. "Well, there's a lot in there about what the Bible says happens. Also, what Buddha, Krishna, and Mohammed said. And others too, like the American Indians and Aborigines."
"So, which one's right?" Sharon asked, closing the book, assuming Titus could simply tell her. "You must know. That's why you wrote the book, right?"
"I wrote about it because I don't know. I've always wondered what happened to my parents. They died when I was around your age, and I thought studying others' ideas of the afterlife would help me get past their death. I'm not sure if it helped or if I'm any closer to an answer. I figure I'll know everything I need to before I'm supposed to leave, though, so it's okay." Titus said, smiling at Sharon, who now looked confused.
"Well, what if it happens real suddenly. Like what if you got hit by lightning or something?" Linda asked, wanting it all to be simple, mathematical. A process she could grasp and file away for later use.
"It wouldn't be sudden to God since he knows everything before it happens. That's one thing nearly all religions agree on," Titus told them.
"Wow, you think it's like boring being God," Linda blurted out. "Cuz surprises are fun, at least some are."
"I don't if it's boring to be God," Titus said. "But that's certainly a good question."
Sitting and talking with Titus, the girls lost track of time. Eventually, they heard Mrs. Kweller calling Linda, and swiveling their heads toward the clock, saw it was past 6:00. They jumped up, and thanking Titus for the books, ran to the front.
Getting to the counter, they saw Linda's father in his oversized winter coat standing by the door. Linda and Sharon usually waited by the window and ran out when he drove up. From his expression, he wasn't pleased with having to come in and fetch them. As Mrs. Kweller pulled the cards from their books and stamped the return dates, Titus came up the aisle and walked toward Linda's father by the door.
"How are you, Ed?" Titus said, extending his hand.
"Titus," Ed answered with a simple nod, disregarding the outreached hand.
"I was doing the library's financial statements and ran into Linda," Titus said, gesturing toward the counter. "I showed her a book on Yoga movements. It might be good for her mobility. It's helped others, and it sure couldn't hurt."
"Oh, are you a medical doctor now too?"
"No," Titus said. "I told Linda she should show it to Dr. Colson."
"I guess that's something else you've done for her I'll have to be grateful for. Thank you, it was very kind of you." Then looking past Titus, he called out, "you ready, girls?" as he headed out the door.
The girls couldn't hear Titus and Ed's exchange. But from the way Linda's father left, it obviously upset him. Grabbing their books from Mrs. Kweller, they gave Titus little squeezy waves over their shoulders as they ran out the door.
Ed usually enjoyed chauffeuring Linda and Sharon. When they wanted to go to places, they often asked him even before Sharon's mother. They would sit three across in his Rambler's front seat. He let them play their radio station and made jokes about their music. A cautious driver by nature, he went slower than usual driving them, often prolonging the trip by making up an errand he had to run along the way. For Ed, their Friday evening rides together were a respite of happiness he counted on.
After encountering Titus, Ed drove to Sharon's house, the girls' typical Friday evening destination, in silence. Linda thanked her father and started getting out of the car, but Ed stopped her. "I need you to help me with something Linny," he said. "I'll bring you back later if you want."
Linda started to ask if she needed to go, then thought better of it. Her father rarely asked anything of her. And Linda always felt pangs of guilt being dropped off at Sharon's. So, instead of listing reasons why she needed to stay at Sharon's, she simply said, "Sure."
"What's up, Daddy? Is something wrong?" she asked as they pulled away.
"Nothing' s wrong. Do I need a reason to spend time with my daughter?" Ed said, reaching his hand around her waist, sliding her across the front seat, and kissing her on the forehead. His display of physical affection, minor as it was, ran well past his usual output. "I do need help with something, though. I thought it would be fun if we did it together."
"Where are we going?" she asked, staying in the middle of the bench seat, enjoying the closeness of being next to him.
"Your sister's birthday's in a couple of days. I got her a special present; we just have to go back to the store and pick it up. I wanted you to come along and help me get a few things to go with it." The silent ring of, 'and your mother's too much of a mess to help' echoed as they drove.
Ed drove to the Sears and Roebuck in New London, where he managed the furniture department. Going to her father's store always boosted Linda's perception of him. The clerks called him Mr. Stapelton. They asked questions, then ran off and did whatever he told them. She rarely saw her father in that light, and it made her proud, not only of him but of herself too.
They stopped first in the Young Miss Department. Eliza appeared to be working toward a full-on Grace Slick look, and Linda didn't see anything she would wear. "That's okay, Linny, we're here for something else anyway," Ed said, holding her hand and leading her to the electronics department.
Ed showed Linda a stereo he'd picked out. It had a turntable, built-in 8-track, and detachable speakers. Even with his store discount, it would leave a noticeable dent in the Stapelton's budget. But, unlike many things in his life, Ed had thought this through. His reasons for the extravagance extended beyond a desire to give his eldest daughter a special gift. Eliza spent little time at home. Her usual excuse being she had no way to listen to music. Ed knew she'd be gone soon. He didn't blame her. Seeking an escape hatch from the only house she'd ever lived in showed common sense. But he hoped to keep her home for one last year, even if it proved unpleasant for all concerned. That way, in Ed's mind, she might finish high school and have a chance at making something out of her life.
While Ed and one of the stock-boys packed up the floor sample he was purchasing, he sent Linda next door to the record store. Not knowing exactly what Eliza wanted and dreading being the uncool little sister, she picked out new albums by The Beatles and Rolling Stones. Everybody liked them. And one by the Grateful Dead, a band Eliza's friend James talked about all the time. She also got Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys because she loved how multiple harmonies and tracks were built into each song. Ed came into the store and poked fun at everyone's hair long and clothes on the album covers. Joking and laughing with her father, Linda hopped around the store, grabbed records, and saw him wearing a smile he rarely showed. In the end, they walked out with six albums. The scene brought her back to the joy of their evening swims.
On the way home, Ed asked Linda if she wanted to stop for pizza. He didn't want their night to end. Also, asking about the library would be out of the question once they got home. They stopped at Bono's Pizza, one of the Metuchin's few restaurants open during the winter months. Ed ordered a pie and a pitcher of root beer. He sat quietly for a few minutes, basking in his daughter's animated description of the goings-on at school. She jabbered on about kids he'd never heard of, doing things he didn't care about. Yet it provided a belly full of bliss no pizza could match. Finally, she was no longer an outcast. Linda had never complained about the teasing she endured. She knew it would hurt her father's feelings as much as it did hers. In a small town like Metuchin, parents know more about their children's lives than they often want. Ed certainly did.
When she finished her story, Ed took a breath, knowing he was putting a pinprick in the pretty, little balloon their night had become. "Linny, what were you and Mr. Dwight talking about at the library today?" He asked.
The question boxed Linda into a no-win situation. Everything she thought to say felt wrong. Experience and how her father acted at the library told her any mention of Titus Dwight would upset him. So that was out. And lying never made the list of her many skills.
As Linda often did when she was nervous, she allowed her mind to work out a math problem. Looking down at the checked pattern of the cloth covering their round table, she counted the red squares in a row across the center, then the white ones in a bisecting line. From there, she determined the number of each at the circumference and hence the degree of the arc that ran through each along the edge. The calculation only took her a few seconds, but it did its job of soothing her nerves while she thought about what to say.
"Nothing," she replied with an unconvincing shrug.
"You must have been talking about something, Linny. You were sitting together in the library."
"Well, Shar and I met him last summer on the beach. We go down to that end of the beach so we can swim by ourselves. He gave me a book, well, he didn't give it to me, it's a library book. It's about Yoga."
"That's some kind of hippie thing, right."
"No, Daddy," Linda said, laughing. "Yoga's from India. Remember, I did a report on India last year? It's where Robin went to live. Anyway, it's just a way of stretching and exercising. He said it might help my legs move better." Linda still found herself trapped in an unpleasant divide. She desperately wanted to tell her father about her friendship with Titus, how he knew Robin, and even her doctor, but she held back.
"Linny, I want you to listen to me. I don't want you to talk to that man anymore, do you hear me?"
"Why Daddy, he's nice to me and..." Linda cut herself off before she spilled the extent of their friendship.
"It's because I'm telling you not to. And please, just don't tell your mother you spoke to him. It would upset her, and we don't want to do that. Do you understand me, Linny?"
Linda didn't know what she could do. She never lied to her parents or told them one thing and did another. So, she looked for an exception. "What if I see him again on the beach or at the Library? I shouldn't be rude, should I?"
Exasperation clouded Ed's eyes, the way it did when he came home from work and found his wife groggy, in a sweat-stained shirt, her hair a mess, having just woken up. "No, Linny, I don't want you to be rude. Just please, never tell your mother, alright."
They sat and finished their pizza mostly in silence, the Stapelton fog of discomfort having rolled in.
________________________________
With their worlds slipping out of control, or at least it feeling that way to them, the girls found an unlikely sanctuary: school.
Sharon's refusal to turn her back on Linda initially led the school's elite to paint her with the same brush of ostracism they used on Linda. It never played out as anything more serious than jibes from the popular girls, asking aloud, "why would you even be seen with Linda Stapelton." The taunts rolled off Sharon's back. She and Linda had each other, and really, that's all Sharon wanted. Things changed quickly with the Alpha-girls, though, the turnaround coming in the first few weeks of school.
The clique of popular girls had cruelty hardcoded in their DNA. They would have been perfectly happy tormenting for the sake of tormenting. Even in junior high school, you can't have royalty without an underclass. The boys, however, saw Sharon's relegation differently, and they forced the issue.
Teasing Linda Stapelton felt obligatory to the kids atop Metuchin's social ladder. Although for the boys, Arthur Stapelton provided a more justifiable target. Sharon's arrival threw a new variable into the equation. Hormones eliminated the possibility of the boys ignoring Sharon MacCalaster. Driven by a hundred thousand years of evolutionary prompting, they were willing to do anything to get her attention. If Sharon required them to accept Linda, or even Arthur, who at 15 took Special Ed. at the Jr. High, no problem. And magically, when the boys stopped, the girls followed suit.
And as the teasing disappeared, Linda outwardly changed. She held her head higher, and her limp steadily improved. She looked better too. Sharon's hand-me-down program had eliminated her prior uniform: Sears Toughskins and faded sweatshirts. Now she wore cute skirts, tights, and blouses. The girls in Metuchin had never seen any of Sharon's old clothes, and they appeared to be new on Linda. Gone too were the orthopedic shoes that for years provided a focal point for the kids teasing. She remained different. Younger than the kids in her grade by two years, yet taking math next door at the senior high. Now though, kids saw Linda's differences as cool.
Entering eighth grade, the administration divided Linda's day into segments. Her unique schedule came about after a rather persuasive call Titus made to the principal. But, of course, a little meddling is tolerated when it comes from a man who responds to virtually any financial request by simply asking, "How much do you need?"
Linda went to homeroom and first-period classes with the other eighth-graders. Then she went across the street, taking math and science classes at the high school. Afterward, she returned to the junior high for lunch and afternoon classes. In the first weeks, the school secretary, Mrs. Donahue, walked her over. They crossed Main Street and went down the block and a half in front of the high school, then up the walkway into the front entrance. Initially, Mrs. Donahue walked her to her classroom and then fetched her later in the morning. However, the secretary's enthusiasm waned before long and walking alone, Linda took the more direct route, cutting through the high school's student parking lot.
For most junior high kids, the high school's student parking area carried a severe intimidation factor – not for Linda. As the leading lady of Metuchin's burgeoning juvenile delinquency movement, Eliza made student parking the stage for her daily performance. The high school kids tossed comments as Linda passed. But the class-skippers, leaning on their cars smoking cigarettes, were always good-natured.
"Take it easy, kiddo; they can't start without you."
"The teacher can't do anything without the grooviest brain in school."
And the inevitable bellow from her sister, often from the back seat of someone's car. "Get your skinny little butt in there, Linny. Don't let me find out you were late for class." A concern the other stoners found hilarious from someone who rarely went to class herself.
While Linda made friends of sorts with kids in her high school classes, she never outgrew her status as an anomaly. The actual work posed no challenge. Even as a 12-years-old taking pre-calculus, Linda breezed through the book on her own, staying well ahead of the class. Still, she rarely raised her hand to answer questions. Self-consciousness always prevailed, and she never wanted others to think she was showing off. But, when the teacher would call on her as his last resort for a correct answer, she'd respond with the rising inflection of doubt in her voice. "Cuz the cosine's a negative number," she'd coyly say, even though everyone knew Linda Stapelton never would give an incorrect answer.
Once Linda returned to her school, she and Sharon lived in a world of their own making. Linda had been inclined to let bygone cruelties fade. Her lifelong quest to blend in far outweighed any grudges. Not so for Sharon. She held them firm throughout the school year. She never carried herself in a snobbish way towards the other girls, who went out of their way to be her and Linda's friends as the year progressed. There were invitations to parties that Sharon often found reasons for them to ditch. And some of the girls, even the ones who had been so nasty to Linda, sat with them at their corner table in the lunchroom. But bonds never formed.
The boys were different. Their teasing of Linda had never been vicious. As for Sharon, they were seemingly afraid of her. Stammering as they tried talking to her or stumbling over their feet, passing her in the halls. Always staring but terrified of being caught mid-leer. Their behavior did little to enhance Sharon's view of boys and men.
Bob had continued finding times to be alone with his daughter. Waiting for the next time, anticipating his expectations, vied for the torment's high watermark. At first, it only happened if Perrin was out. On those nights, Sharon tried to have Linda stay over. But it didn't take long for Bob to stretch his boundaries.
Bob's two nights a week in Hartford remained cast in stone. The rest of the week, though, he made a point of coming home, often very late. On those nights, Perrin would hear her husband briefly check on his sons and then go to his daughter's room. Once there, he would reach his hand under her covers, touching and probing. Then, taking Sharon's small, still childlike hand, he would show her what he wanted. Finally, after spending five or ten minutes with Sharon, Bob would go to be with his wife.
Well before moving to Metuchin, Bob and Perrin's sex life had taken the slow glide toward obligatory monotony. However, on nights when he'd molested his daughter, a carnal, near-violent undercurrent flowed from him. Having so desperately missed his physical attention, Perrin accepted the fundamental change to their marriage, and to whatever might be happening between Bob and Sharon, as trade-offs.
The licentious nature of Bob's relationship with his daughter also destroyed any semblance of proper attention he might give her. No longer did his princess receive her special kisses (forehead, nose, both cheeks, and chin before a light peck on the lips). He instead withheld kissing for when they were alone. Special dinners and shopping trips disappeared too. Soon, the only time Bob spent with his daughter was when he wanted her body.
Bob curdled Sharon's natural sweetness with every touch, tarnishing deeper layers of what made her sparkle. In the day following her father's visits, she would be curt and flippant, disconnected. Her inherent goodness pruned away, and only after a couple of days would it sprout and blossom anew. Perrin noticed. She knew something was happening between them (the details of which she never allowed herself to consider fully). But the change between Bob and Sharon brought back the family dynamic she had fought for – her husband was coming home regularly. So she pushed any thoughts of the consequence far from her active mind.
Linda saw the changes in Sharon, felt them, and each time gently asked her what was wrong. The questions only raised Sharon's defenses. Not out of any fear of sharing her life with Linda. She simply couldn't relinquish the belief that her silence somehow protected her friend. She would mumble stories about her father or brothers being mean and leave it at that. If Linda had still been able to travel to the Sea of Souls and mingled with Sharon's feelings, she could have known what was going on. But even when she traveled there as a child, she never learned to bring her experiences back.
Linda had begun a daily practice of the exercises from the yoga text Titus gave her. Unfortunately, it provided little more than a cursory glance at the spiritual side, a few pages devoted to meditation, and nothing more. Titus had consciously chosen a book with a wide range of exercises for Linda, purposely steering away from the transcendental aspects. He worried too much discussion of otherworldly matters might cause an issue for Linda at home. However, the explanations of breathing exercises reminded Linda of what she experienced while trapped on the couch. And sometimes, when she completed her stretching sequences in the morning, hazy memories from her childhood travels returned. She vaguely perceived the familiar outlines of the swirling energy currents flowing to and from the Sea of Souls a couple of times. But her mind was different now, no longer that of a child, and with so much more to set aside before she could ride the currents, they stayed little more than a hazy memory.
A few weeks before the end of their school year, the girls were sitting at their favorite table in the back of the library when Titus walked up. "Oh good, you're here," he said, a little out of breath. They'd seen him several more times at the library, always making a point to be out front when Linda's father swung through the library's driveway to pick them up.
"Wow, Titus, you're starting to look like a hippie?" Sharon said, jumping up and giving him a big hug. "Look at this hair, Lin. You'd better be careful, Titus; Mrs. Kweller might come back here and cut it off." Sharon laughed, hanging on Titus's shoulder, something she had been doing the last couple of times they saw each other.
"Does it look silly? Should I get it cut?" Titus asked self-consciously.
"I thought you said what people think about how you look doesn't matter," Linda teased.
"Well, I think it's cute, even if there is grayer when it's like this," Sharon said, reaching up and running her hand through it.
"That's just the way it's sprouting from my head, so we'll all have to live with it. I didn't come here to discuss my graying locks, though. I stopped because I'm on my way to New York, and guess why, Linda."
Linda looked first at Sharon, then back toward Titus.
"I'm going to the airport..." as the word airport rolled out of his mouth, Linda bolted up in her chair. " That's right, sweetie, I'm going to pick Robin up. She arrives in two days."
The news triggered Linda's excitement, and she started bouncing in her chair before Titus finished. "When can I see her? I mean, when are you coming back."
"We're going to spend a few days in the city, then visit some friends for a few weeks in upstate NY, after that we're coming back here. We'll be back sometime after you're out of school. And Linda, Robin's going to be spending more than the summer here; she's moving home permanently."