Megan paused for a moment then said, “Something bad happened to that girl when she was a child. I don’t know exactly what, but when she first started sleeping over, she had a couple of hideous night mares, scared the hell out of us. At the time, Belinda was very quiet and somewhat introverted. She was reluctant to offer any sort of information about her earlier years, and touching her was a big mistake in those days.”
“Wait a minute,” Karen said. “Just what did you mean by touching her was a big mistake’?”
“What I meant was, that she would go ballistic if anyone touched her without permission. As time wore on, she seemed to grow out of it. From one day to the next, you could see her blossoming. She became such a great kid and so much fun to be around, that I found myself asking Sandra of Belinda’s whereabouts was when she wasn’t at my house. I actually missed having her around. Then Ruby and Alex joined the team and the four formed a tight little group. Seemed that either me, or Dan was always on the phone for one reason or another, coordinating carpools, soccer practice, church group, or girl scouts. It if wasn’t one thing it was another ...”
‘So how did you find out that Belinda wasn’t Dan’s daughter?”
“She told me.”
“She told you?”
“Told me the entire story. By the time she was finished I wanted to go find the SOB’s who abused her and shoot them. That was when I understood just how special Mr. Daniels was. He not only had a tough job raising a little girl, he also had the job of making her feel and think like a little girl —maybe for the first time in her life. Those bastards stole her childhood, and it was up to Mr. Daniels to give it back to her. Frankly I think he did a super good job and deserves a metal.”
“So if you were called as a witness in a court case, I take it you wouldn’t have anything negative to say about Mr. Daniels?”
“I’ll go to every newspaper, television and radio station in the state that will allow me to be heard, and make a case for him.” Megan said vehemently. “That is if Mr. Daniels would permit it.”
‘I doubt he would.”
“Why do you doubt it?”
“Because that would mean involving Belinda in a public court action. Also, the newspaper article Belinda wrote didn’t mention any names. If she was forced to divulge information about her abusers, or if one, or all of them believed she might, her life could be placed in a heap of danger.”
“You’re right, Megan said solemnly. A story like that wouldn’t be good for Belinda’s future. It could stigmatize her and destroy everything Dan has worked so hard for, if it didn’t get her killed.
Karen nodded and then said, “You’re right Megan. I don’t know if I can keep a lid on this thing long enough to prevent that from happening. I plan gathering as much information as possible to use as a discouraging tactic in case Mr. Wallace proceeds in pressing charges against Mr. Daniels. He already has his hooks into this case. I believe he thinks he’s found an easy way to make a big name for himself, and plans to take it to the limit.”
“Well,” Megan said stonily, “Belinda is no longer a child, I don’t see how it’s any business of the welfare department how she conducts her life from this point on, and especially since she’s doing so well. Maybe they should consider hiring Mr. Daniels to manage their office for them. There’s a good chance he might even straighten it out enough to make it functional.”
“My boss has no real jurisdiction in this case,” Karen said with confidence. “But if he gathers adequate information, or concocts enough crap to hand over to the DA resulting in a conviction, it will go on record as evidence compiled by that asshole, and he’ll get the credit for making it happen.”
“Will he try to get testimony from Belinda?”
“I’m sure he would love to. However, the creep has to be a cautious of the way he goes about getting his conviction. He still has the judge to deal with, who would not take kindly to him putting Belinda on the witness stand. However, if Wallace manages to get the information from Belinda, and then gets it duly notarized as fact from the abused, the judge might allow it in court if Belinda was kept as an anonymous participant.”
“And what if she testified on Mr. Daniels’ behalf?” Megan asked.
“Depends on her state of mind and how she reacts to the DA’s questions. A good prosecutor could twist her words around making it appear that she’s confused; convincing the jury that she doesn’t know the difference between abuse and fatherly love.”
Karen set up the meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks from Belinda’s dorm. When she saw the young woman come in and gaze expectantly around the room, she waved and pulled out a chair for her.
Belinda stopped at the table, took in the briefcase and tape recorder and said, “You must be Karen.”
Karen offered her hand in greeting, then pointed to the chair and said, “Please, sit.”
Belinda seated herself, and then looked at Karen questioningly.
After a momentary hesitation, Karen said. “I’m afraid this is a bit awkward for me Belinda. I hope you’ll understand that my intentions here are not to pry into your personal life, but rather to gather information that will set a record straight, one that otherwise might very well become so skewed it could hurt you and other innocent persons.”
Belinda smiled sadly then said, “I never dreamed anyone would ever learn who wrote that article, Ms. Lang.”
“My boss is very resourceful,” Karen said quietly.
“Obviously.” Belinda said pointedly. “So much for reporter confidence.”
Karen offered Belinda something to drink, and then asked, “Do you mind if I leave the recorder on as we speak?”
“I suppose not. But I want the tape replayed so that I can listen to it before it leaves my sight. If there’s anything on there that might affect dad in any way, I’ll ask for it to be removed.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Karen said, pressing a button on the recorder, then opened up her notebook to glance at notes she’d make for herself. “Belinda I’m only interested in the true facts of what happened starting with the day you met Joseph Daniels.”
“It happened pretty much like I stated in the article you’ve already read.” Belinda said matter-of-factly.
“So Joseph Daniels truly is a good guy?”
“The best! At times he’s a bit stubborn and even pushy, and has always been overly protective... something I never fully understood ... but I loved him for it.”
“Do you ever fight with your ... dad?”
“No. At least, not now. When I was younger we fought a lot, or at least I did. Sometimes I would get so angry with him I would go to my room and lock the door for hours. I always thought he would knock on the door and beg me to come out, but he never did. He just left me alone until I got hungry or got over being mad. And then ...”
“And then?”
“Then I told him I hated him.”
“And what did he do?”
“He gave me one of those heartbreaking, soul-wrenching looks that made me wish I had never spoken those thoughtless words. But they were out, and I couldn’t bring them back. I had never said anything like that before and I know it shocked him. He left me standing there, went to his room and closed the door. This time, he went to his room and stayed so long that I began to worry. Three hours later, I knocked lightly on the door and asked if he was okay? At first, there was no answer, and then he opened the door and just stared at me, as if waiting for me to say something. I couldn’t stand the look on his face and the hurt I saw in his eyes. I threw myself into his arms and told him that I was sorry; I said it over and over again. I was blubbering, something else I’d never done, but I couldn’t stop crying. His shirt was soaked with my tears but he held me and allowed me to sob. I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying because I’d told him I hated him; I was crying for everything that had ever happened to me. Then somewhere along the line, I became so angry at what they did to me that I began pounding on Dan’s chest. I repeatedly hit him and he ne
ver tried to stop me. I kept pounding until my arms went limp. After that I was never angry with him again. Two weeks later, I don’t know why, it just came out; I ... called him dad. When he turned away from me, I knew he was crying, nothing like blubbering or gulping for air, just silent tears running down his face that he tried hiding from me. I told him I was sorry, that it had just slipped out. He shook his head, then said quietly, “Don’t be sorry sweetheart.” He explained that it had just caught him off guard; he had never expected to have a child call him dad. After that I called him dad instead of Dan.”
“So he never hit you, or touched you in a way that was uncomfortable for you?”
“Hit me? Never! Touch me in a way that was uncomfortable? That depends on how you look at it ...”
“Do you suppose you could clear that up for me, Belinda?”
“I’ll try. About all I can say is that dad touched me a lot. In the beginning, even though his touches were never meant to offend in any way, I felt uneasy. I hadn’t reached a point where I could trust touching from anyone. At first dad simply put his hand on my shoulder, or ruffled my hair. At crosswalks, he would grab my hand before we started across a street. When I was doing homework, he would lean in close and sometimes our shoulders touched. Looking back, I don’t think dad was even aware that he was touching me. Sometimes he would put his arm around me, not for long, just a quick hug or a pat on the back. It took me a long time to understand what he was doing, but I finally got it.”
“What did you finally get?”
“Men had been touching me in a way that no man should touch a child. It had happened for as long as I could remember. Dad wanted me to be a little girl again, but in order for me to do that, I had to learn to trust adults to touch me without hurting me. So one-step at a time, touch by touch, he gave me back the ability to respond to human touch without cringing in fear. I think my best friend’s parents must have talked with dad, because they started doing the same thing. They showered me with hugs and friendly pats, sometimes even a friendly slap on my butt. They showed me, rather than told me, that people could give warm and friendly hugs, without hurting me.”
“Your dad sounds like a very patient man?”
“With me he had to be. I was very angry, deep-down, soul-wrenching angry, and I distrusted everybody. No one had ever given me a reason to trust; dad had to work long and hard helping to build my confidence. I suppose that is one of the reasons he was so protective of me. He lived in constant fear that someone would do something to destroy the trust he had instilled in me.”
Belinda suddenly chuckled at a special memory. “Sorry about the chuckle, Karen. I was just remembering my first date. Dad practically paced a rut in the carpet waiting for me to get home. He never gave any indication to my date that he was even concerned, but he was a nervous wreck by the time I got home. You want to know what he ask when I came in?”
“Yes, actually, I’d like very much to know?” Karen said quietly.
“He asked “Did you have a good time?”
“That was it!”
“Yep! He never asked where we went or what we did. He was telling me he trusted me, trusted that I would do the right thing.”
Karen Lang was feeling good about her recent accomplishments as she set up her equipment to make copies of the little micro tapes she had stashed in her handbag. After copying the tapes, she placed the originals in her safe and turned the knob. Humming softly to herself, she poured a cup of coffee, seated herself at her bar, opened her briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of heavy notepaper. She quickly scanned the notes she had put together this week, then arranged them in the order she would need them when the time came to use them. She placed the notes in a manila envelope, added the micro tapes, and placed the envelope back into her briefcase.
Suddenly Karen was feeling better about herself than she ever had before, at least, better than she could ever remember. She was doing something she had known for years that needed to be done. There were people in her department who had been getting away with murder for a way too long, and now she was actually doing something toward putting a stop to it.
Desperate Flight
Meet Jason Wade. Practically everything about Jason was average, his physical appearance, family, and the town in which he lived. Yet, his above-average intellect allowed him to hold a highly respectable status at his place of employment with Intel International, Inc.
Jason’s intelligence wasn’t the product of his upbringing or environment, nor is he overly gifted with extraordinary cognitive abilities. Therefore, many people were amazed at his understanding of physics, astrophysics, and astronomy. Jason was so advanced that Einstein would have taken notice. Some say that his mind is somehow different, possibly some glitch during birth might have effected his intellect, unlocking avenues of thinking beyond that of a normal human being. Others say he is an alien from some advanced race sent here to help humankind. However, since he was so ordinary in every other way, the alien theory wasn’t widely accepted. So, what was it that drove Jason to design and invent a revolutionary spaceship? Was he trying to change the evolution of humanity or space travel? No. Jason wasn’t consciously trying to change anything here on earth. It was much simpler than that, Jason was in love.
From his earliest memories, Jason has had a single dream, one that remained the same night after night and year after year. He dreamed of a world where the trees were as tall as skyscrapers, a place where everything was green and lush and full of misty sunlight filtering down from a firmament not his own, in a realm where two moons enhanced the night sky instead of one. He dreams of a girl who grew from a dimpled toddler whose laughter was like music and a smile like sunshine. He watched her develop into a slender tomboy all arms and legs, with skinned knees and dirty face, and finally into a beautiful young woman with bright emerald-green eyes. He knew the smell and texture of her long, auburn-red hair, and every line of her elegantly shaped hands. Each feature of her face and her delicate body was indelibly stamped upon his brain. Jason loved all that was Janna, even her delicate, slightly pointed ears, and the sound of her musical voice.
Jason is familiar with the village where he watched her play as a child, the place where she had grown into the most unforgettable person. Although Jason knew the location of her world, he was also aware of just how painfully far away that world was from his own. A thousand times, he had attempted to pass her off as nothing more than a dream, but had been forced to accept the reality of her existence. Through dreams, Jason and Janna had shared their worlds and their lives. Their secrets desires, hopes and aspirations unfolded through the years as their childhood emotions changed from that of children to adults.
By the time Jason was fourteen years old he gave up all pretense that his dreams were merely a product of his sleep, and proclaimed his love for Janna. Upon his proclamation, Janna confessed that she was hopelessly in love with him. Both understood what they wanted most in life could never be.
In the fifteenth year of his life, Jason sat with Janna on a stone bridge spanning the brook that flowed past her village. As they tossed pebbles into the slowly moving water, their happiness waned at the thoughts of the helplessness of their situation. Jason emptied his hands of the pebbles by letting them fall freely into the water below, and then said decisively, “I will not accept this! I don’t know how just yet, but be assured I will reach your world and find a way for us to be together in the flesh.” He looked at her and the intensity of his stare was enough to encourage Janna’s belief in his endeavor. But hanging her head sadly, she said, “Neither your world nor mine has the knowledge or technology to accomplish such a thing.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll find a way to make it happen, Janna. If there’s any way possible, and I believe there is,” Jason said with conviction. Then touching her face gently, with a pained expression that terrified her, he said, “If all the fates in the universe are against us, and I find the vast distance impossible to span, promise me that you’ll move on with your
life. It isn’t right for me to be selfish and ask you to wait indefinitely. You can’t throw away your future and your very existence on a dream. Promise me, Janna! If I haven’t found a way to reach your world by the time I’m thirty, that you’ll find a new love, someone with whom you can share a life and maybe a family. Try to be happy for the both of us.”
Jana replied, “I’m not sure that I can make such a promise, Jason. Even if my future depends on what you ask, how can I ever love anyone else when you are always as close as my heart and in my dreams?”
“Janna, don’t waste your life depending on my trek across the universe. You know as well as I that a dream cannot give you children or hold you close on a cold night, neither can they give you security or happiness, but they can bring pain and sorrow when they are not realized.”
Winds of Fate Page 17