sexual assault; sexual abuse of children
The Philadelphia Center For Transgender Surgery
Donna stared at the ceiling. One of the nurses was kind enough to notice the harsh glare that bathed the room and had dimmed the lights.
“I’ve got to go down the hall for a few, but I’ll be right back,” the nurse said. Donna turned her head to face the doorway and saw her partner standing there.
“I…” she gasped. Even in the midst if this day of completion, too much recent history reminded her of what she had lost to arrive at this point.
“Hey…” Terry Manahan waved before walking into the room.
“I figured you’d want some company, partner.” He still struggled to use her name, even if it was only slightly different than what either of them were used to. He drew close and looked for all the world like he was going to bestow a brotherly kiss , but he just patted her wrist instead.
“Here… I know how much you like Robert Parker.” He laid a paperback with a bright yellow cover on her lap.
“You stuck only with ice chips?” He looked around.
“Okay for water,” Donna rasped with that croaky voice you sometimes get from anesthesia.
“Found it,” he said, producing a pitcher of ice water and a Styrofoam cup. She eagerly drank the water before eyeing the paperback in her lap.
“Melancholy Baby?” She stared at the cover until she noticed the byline.
“Sunny Randall? What happened to the Spenser novel I asked you to get?”
“The store didn’t have any, and I figured since you just switched teams?” He chuckled at his words and she began to glare.
“Switch teams? You think this is funny?” She went to throw the paperback at him, but caught his gesture as he patted his chest as if to say ‘My Bad.” And the gesture was followed by a tear fogged twinkle in his eyes.
“I really want to understand all this, Don…Donna,” he said as he stepped closer. She looked into his soul for the very first time, not as his former brother-in-law, but as Donna Carter, the widow of Terry’s late sister Jeannie. He smiled weakly in that disarming Irish way he had and she burst into tears; sobbing into his jacket sleeve.
“I know, kiddo…I know,” he said as he wanted to stroke her hair. He pulled back instead and just stood there as she soaked his sleeve with her tears.
“I know,” he repeated. He didn’t know at all, Donna thought as she looked up at him. But he wanted to know, she reminded herself as she sobbed even harder…
Book One - Lascia ch'io pianga mia cruda sorte….
Let me weep over my cruel fate.
The Danvers home…
Ricki sat at the vanity, looking in the mirror. Her longish blond hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail, which revealed the turquoise studs in her lobes. Her makeup, such as it was, merely decorated a simple yet adorable face. She smiled into the mirror, which returned her expression with welcome. It was the only time she would smile that day or many days to come.
She stood up from the vanity and smoothed the long skirt of her nightgown. It was coral with lace adorning the bodice and hem, and it helped her feel pretty. She had little to feel good about, and her image was fragile to begin with. A sound came from behind her, and she turned to see a very angry man standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
"Why you little fag..." the man yelled as he strode quickly to her. Without warning, he lifted his hand and struck her on the cheek, knocking her to the floor and drawing blood. And she was unable to avoid the blows than rained down upon her. The man looked down at her in contempt. He actually spat at her, but missed.
No matter, she was hurt nearly beyond repair. The wounds on the outside would heal, but the inner hurts would take a long time, and only by the grace of God. The man stormed out of the room, but not before yelling back.
"I'm going out...you had better be gone before I get back, you little bastard." He slammed the door and walked out of the house. She lay on the carpet for only a few minutes. Wiping the blood from her mouth, she rose and walked to the bathroom. Carefully, almost in reverence, she took every bit of clothing off and folded it, placing it on the hamper next to the linen closet.
She didn't bother to shower; the man would return all too soon, and he meant what he said as he always did. She wiped off her makeup and washed quickly in the sink. She took the studs from her ears and placed them on the sink. She picked up the clothing that lay on the floor by the door and got dressed. Underwear, jeans and tee shirt. She grabbed the studs and shoved them into her pocket; they were the only thing left of her mother's besides the nightgown that her father had not sold or given away, save for one last item.
She walked into the other bedroom and walked into the closet. She grabbed a backpack and took little time filling it with the clothes from her dresser. She looked once around the room, desperately searching for her most treasured possession. Right where she left it was a small photo of a boy and a woman...her mother. She spotted an envelope…the envelope; worn from opening and closing numerous times, its flap repaired with tape. The envelope held the one thing in the world that kept her going. A note in what you might consider the prettiest handwriting you’d ever seen.
Dearest Rickie,
I want you to know I love you. Never forget that, no matter what happens. I’m sorry I won’t be there for you, but I know God will receive me, and I know he will protect you as well. Know that He loves you too.God speed my darling son.
Rickie Danvers walked down the hall and out of the house, just as his father did only minutes ago. Looking out off the porch, he was relieved to see that his father's car was gone. Tears streamed down his cheek as he looked back at his home. The home he grew up in, the home where his mother mercifully took her last breath. The home he would never enter again. He was wrong...thankfully, he was wrong.
Lower Merian High School Guidance office…
"Hey, Gina, got time to talk?" Betty Aberlin leaned in. Gina Kelly was just finishing her normal Monday lunch-time activity; Yogurt, diet coke, and the NY Times Sunday crossword (in ink.)
"Hey, girl," she said, taking a sip of her drink, "For you, anything!"
"I've got this kid I'm really worried about. Rickie Danvers. Know him?" She said.
"He's the boy whose mother died last fall? How's he doing?"
"His grades had gone down, not a surprise. But he seemed to be doing better. His father kicked him out of the house.
Called up and complained about what we were doing with his kid. Rickie's staying with his aunt, and she said he came there looking like he'd gone a few rounds with Joe Frazier."
"I remember sitting in on a conference with him one time. He looked positively beat down, and this was before his mother died. He's about seventeen? Way more shy than just the normal stuff. What's his aunt say?"
"She's certainly worried, but relieved that he came to her. She's single, an OB nurse…she works at the hospital where your niece volunteers. Her sister is...was Rickie's mom. She said...and I promised it wouldn't go any further than you...that she was pretty sure that Rickie's dad was the one who did the beat down. She tried to get her sister to leave several times before she died, but could never convince her."
"Sounds like you've got a good handle on it already, Betty. If he hasn't said anything to anyone yet about his father, there's really nothing we can do, and he's out of the house, thank God. (Gina said that in true gratefulness; she wasn't afraid to express her faith, School Board or no." Just keep me posted…and Betty...."
"Yes?"
"Pray!"
The apartment of Angela Olerud…
Angela and Rickie sat at the kitchen table. The apartment was a modest two-bedroom apartment, and she actually welcomed the company. She continued to deal with her own grief regarding her sister's death, made worse by her brother-in-law's disgusting behavior toward his son. She poured two cups of coffee and set them on the table.
"Rickie," she said firmly, but through her own tears, "I can't help you if you won't tell me what happened." It had been a week since he moved in, and the cuts by his mouth and his black eye were only now beginning to disappear.
"I can't...." He actually looked toward the front door, almost expecting his father to walk in. "I just can't,” he said as he steeled himself. Besides a few brief moments after his father left him at the house, and only a few more minutes the day his mother died, Rickie had willed himself not to cry. Fear and shame acted for the time being as effective mortar in the wall he was building, and tears would only weaken that wall.
Angela knew what he felt. Oh, she didn't actually know the exact things he felt, but growing up with an abusive step-father and seeing that behavior duplicated in her sister's marriage gave her plenty of insight into Rickie's pain. She, unlike Inga, was able to extricate herself from that pain by getting help with counseling and understanding and supportive friends, and faith.
"I know you care, Angela, but I just can't. Please don't ask me again." His tone almost sounded angry, but the expression on his face was one of someone pleading for secrecy. Angela agreed not to bring it up unless Rickie did first, but she decided she would pray as hard as she ever had for some deliverance for her sister's child.
Angela came home the next day to find a couple of cardboard boxes and a large plastic bag sitting on her front step.
She looked inside the open boxes to find a Playstation and some books, along with some old soccer trophies and a picture of a cat. She guessed by the feel and weight of the bag that it contained clothes. An envelope was pinned to the bag. In it she discovered a check for $2000, along with a note that said,
"Angela...Give this to Rickie. Rick"
"What a bastard!" She actually said this out loud. She pulled the items into the apartment and put them by the door.
She walked over to the sink and grabbed a mug out of the dish drain. Pouring a cup of coffee, she walked into her living room and sat down on the couch. She grabbed her Bible and looked out the window.
"God help me to forgive him, and God please help me with the words when Rickie gets home from school." She tried not to, but all the emotion of her own grief and loss, coupled with her feelings of helplessness for the abuse Rickie had suffered by his dad, was too much, and she collapsed on the couch in tears.
At the high school…
Linda Sorrento got up at the last bell and started to walk out of French class. She remembered a question she had for the teacher, and when she turned to ask, she walked right into a quiet blond-haired boy.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Rickie. Please forgive me." She actually meant that, and was trying to be considerate. Rickie looked at her, surprised that she knew his name. Linda Sorrento was not necessarily a social animal, but she did try notice things and people around her. She was always looking for help with the program at the hospital, and kept that in mind on a frequent basis.
"That's okay," Rickie said as he reached down to pick up his notebook, which had fallen in the doorway. "Hey, a bunch of us are getting together for pizza. We have a program at the hospital to visit the kids’ oncology ward.
You're welcome to come."
"Thanks, but I have to get home tonight. Maybe another time." Rickie did have things to do which occupied his thoughts, but he really did appreciate Linda's invitation.
"Okay, I'll take that as a some-other-time,” she said as he walked away.
The girl was in unfamiliar territory, but was too afraid of everything else in her life to back down now. She opened the bedroom door and walked in, closing it behind her. She moved to the dresser next to the window, opening each drawer until she found what she was looking for. She repeated the process by searching the closet, and soon had accomplished her task. She walked to the mirror hanging on the bathroom door and stared at her image.
"It's okay, honey...I still love you and I miss you very much." The voice seemed to come from both inside and outside of her head. She squinted, as if to change her already sharp focus, and looked at herself. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, which revealed her favorite possessions, her mother's turquoise earrings. "Momma likes turquoise 'cause it reminds her of Arizona...you, know, where she and Angela were born." Inga would say to her.
With her mother gone, these were only some of the very few tangible things which gave evidence to her mother's life, since nearly everything of Inga’s had been given away. She looked down at the dress, which looked fairly new. A green and white floral print, it came to just below her knees. She wore no hose, since it was almost summer. She hadn't decided on shoes yet, and her feet were bare.
She looked again at her face, which was as yet unadorned by makeup, but her soft features helped her appearance, even if she didn't feel good about the person inside. She was just about to search the closet for some shoes when the bedroom door opened. A woman stood there. She looked a lot like her, and she was angry.
"Rickie!" The woman raised her voice, and Rickie stood still, unable to move. "What the hell is going on here?"
Truth be told, Angela was more surprised than angry, and even more so, confused and clueless about what to do next.
Rickie looked at her as she asked again, her voice actually much louder than she intended.
"What is going on here," Angela repeated as she stepped closer to her nephew. Rickie looked at her and completely mistook her intent; fear and shame permeating his being. He fell to the floor and covered his head with his hands, expecting the punches and slaps and kicks that would never come from the woman before him.
Angela immediately realized if with only a little understanding, what Rickie was doing. She fell to her knees and reached to him. She drew him into her in a hug, saying softly,
"Oh, God, honey, no....Rickie, what's wrong?" Rickie collapsed into her embrace and his emotional floodgate burst open, releasing months of un-cried tears and unspeakable shame. He wept so hard that he actually broke some blood vessels over his right eye. She patted him on the back and cried along with him, from her own grief, but also in realization. Rickie wore her clothes and she saw that he looked exactly like her sister Inga, his mother. They held each other and cried until the sun set and they sat together on her bedroom floor in the dark.
At school, the next morning…
"Betty Aberlin, Guidance," Betty said, answering the phone. "Sure, Maeve, send her in." She hung up the phone and sat, watching the closed door. A knock, quickly followed by "Come in, please." Betty got up from her desk and greeted Angela.
"Hi, I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I'm Angela Olerud, Rickie Danvers' aunt."
"Yes, Betty Aberlin," she said as she offered her hand. "We talked on the phone a few weeks ago. Please have a seat," she said. Angela sat down, nervously looking at the door.
Betty noticed her expression and walked over to the door and shut it.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Olerud?"
"Please, call me Angela," she said, which Betty acknowledged with a smile and nod.
"I'm really worried about Rickie. He's been living at my house, as you know, and some things have happened that concern me. He really hasn't gotten over Inga's death," she said, and her eyes began to mist up.
"I am so sorry for your loss, Angela. I lost an older brother when I was little, but I can't imagine how painful it is to lose an adult sister. And now Rickie's having such a difficult time. It must be so hard for you." Betty's older brother was four and she was only two and a half when he died in a car accident.
"It is hard, but not more than I can bear. I'm just so worried about him. He's my only family now, and to see him like this." She cried for a few minutes, and then continued.
"Two things happened last week, and I just don't know how to handle them, and I know by speaking with you that you care. I just don't have anyone to turn to."
"Angela, we're here just for the reasons you describe, really." She smiled an accepting smile and handed Angela another tissue.
''Rickie's dad dropped off the rest of his stuff with a check for $2000. God knows the bastard doesn't need the money, it's probably from her life insurance." Her tone and her face betrayed not only anger, but frustration and unearned guilt over her sister's death, having tried for years to help Inga leave her husband, but with no success.
"It sounds like he could afford to take care of his son, but chooses not to."
"He's abandoned the boy, but after losing a mother...Rickie's probably better off...No, that's not right." She corrected herself, not because she was wrong, but she no longer believed it. She explained that had always mourned the loss of her own father, and she knew the pain of her and Inga’s abuse at the hands of their own stepfather. She sat for a few moments, but was unable to continue until Betty said,
“But that’s not the worst, is it,” Betty asked. Angela hesitated, caught between her own confusion and Rickie’s shame. “It’s okay, Angela, I’m not here to judge.”
“I found….” She tried to speak, but choked up at the embarrassment, more for Rickie at this point than herself.”
“Go ahead…you found?”
“He was wearing my clothes.” She started to cry, and Betty misunderstood.
“And him wearing your clothes upsets you?” Really a statement rather than a question, but Angela spoke up,
“No…well, yes, but I’m so worried about him. I…I yelled at him.” Betty was going to interrupt, but saw the continued look of guilt spread across Angela’s face, and just nodded, which allowed her to continue.
“He cowered on the floor with his head covered, crying. I think he thought I was going to beat him. Oh…Ms. Aberlin, Betty, I’m sorry…What happened to him. He was such a sweet boy, and look what’s happened.”
Betty didn’t speak for several minutes and then only to assure Angela that she would reach out to Rickie discreetly.
Betty knew exactly what Rickie was going through because she had seen it with all too many other kids. And as far as the gender issues ,Betty knew first hand that it isn't necessarily about the clothes,with her own spouse Andrea as a prime example.
But regarding his response to his aunt, Rickie was abused to the point where any perceived aggression would be received as a threat, however innocently any gesture was intended. He thought Angela would beat him because he was used to being beaten, and that only meant one person.
“Richard Danvers?” The voice was curt and to the point.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Danvers, this is Betty Aberlin from the guidance department at Central High. I have some things I wish to discuss with you regarding your son.”
“Your son is none of my concern. Just do my job and mind my own business?” Danvers hung up before Betty had a chance to respond.”
A few moments later. Gina walked in, apple and Diet Mountain Dew in hand. She noticed the frustrated look on Betty’s face.
“Don’t tell me…Danvers!?”
“Can you believe that guy? He just hung up. He refused to take any more calls, and I got a letter in the mail today from his attorney. Rickie turns eighteen next week, and Danvers is working to be removed from guardianship and/or custodial care. It seems that he has proof the Rickie isn’t his kid, and he never signed the birth certificate.
The letter was much more polite than he was, but his lawyer made it clear that he does not wish to be bothered by the school, or else he will sue the school district and me.”
Gina was a reasonable woman, and her faith helped keep things in perspective. She was ordinarily a kind and forgiving woman, but none of that prevented from saying,
“What a prick!”She took another bite out of her apple and lobbed the core into the trash can across the room.
“I talked to Angela about what she shared with me, and while she doesn’t want to expose Rickie to any embarrassment, she gave me permission to talk to you regarding what she shared. And maybe talk to Katie about some help?”
“What’s up…does it have anything to do with his dad?”
“No, not directly as far as I know, but I have my suspicions. She confronted him about some behavior at the apartment two weeks ago, and he literally cowered in front of her like a whipped dog.” She took a deep breath. “And there’s more.” She looked out the window, as if searching for another way of saying what she said next.
“He was wearing her clothes at the time.” Betty was a fairly progressive individual, and certainly one of the more sensitive and caring people Gina knew, but this was way beyond anything in her experience. Gina’s partner Katie was transgender and was a psychologist and gender therapist.
After about an hour’s worth of discussion and a bit of unauthorized, closed-door, honest to goodness prayer, both women came to the conclusion, without proof unless Rickie would open up, that his father beat him, and most likely because of his cross dressing. What they eventually found out went far beyond that, and they found themselves glad that they had prayed...
Ricki sat alone in her room, her eyes red with tears and her throat sore from vomiting. She was anxious beyond all experience, and even in the safe haven her aunt had provided her, her fear overwhelmed her to point of physical illness.
It was getting increasingly hard for her to hide that from her aunt, and she dreaded the day when she would have to explain everything. Fear and shame and guilt grew inside her like a feral beast, fed by secrecy and darkness. But all of those but would ultimately lose their power when the light finally shined on them. Mercifully, she was about to find that out.
At school
“Hey, Rickie, that offer still goes. If you just want to join us for pizza later, that’s okay,”Linda said to Rickie after class. He thanked her, but would have to take a rain check. Linda would have loved to hear that Rickie wanted to join them at the hospital, but was more interested in reaching out to him. It was no secret that he had moved in with his aunt, and more than a few had suspected something at home when he came to school with a black eye and a fractured wrist.
Her friend, however, had a different motive. Her best friend Alice Chang had expressed more than just a let's-all-visit-the-kids-together attitude when she heard the Linda had asked Rickie to volunteer.
“Do you think he likes me?” Alice asked as Rickie waled past her. Linda looked at her and laughed.
“My God, girl, what’s not to like.” Alice’s dad David was second generation Taiwanese who had married his college sweet heart, Mary Pat O’Shaunessy. Two kids; Michael, a minister in Taiwan, and Alice, their little girl grown up to be an on-the-verge college student at Temple. Favoring her father’s looks somewhat, she was a great kid, but not at all reserved like her Dad’s side of the family but still a nice amalgam of Asian and Irish.
Alice continued to watch as Rickie walked around the corner.
“Mmmmm…” she cooed.
The Guidance office the next day...
True to his attorney’s word, Richard Danvers had himself absolved of all responsibility for Rickie, with everything finalized the day after Rickie’s eighteenth birthday, owing more to his connection as a college chum with the family court judge than the rule of law. Betty didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. Angela’s call helped clarify that.
“Betty, this is Angela,” she said almost meekly over the phone. Betty was almost afraid to ask, but did anyway. Sensing the tone in Angela’s voice, Betty asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“I worked an extra shift to cover for someone, so I didn’t get home until eight this morning. Rickie had left for school already, and when I went into the bathroom, I saw vomit and blood in the toilet. I think he has an ulcer, and I just don’t know what to do.” She was on the verge of tears.
“I think we need to confront him, but in a way that helps him open up. Maybe the best thing is to meet here. We can call him down from class between bells, so he doesn’t feel singled out. Tomorrow or Monday; let me talk to my colleague and I’ll call you back after lunch.”
Kitchen Gia’s …
Alice looked over at Rickie, who sat across from her at the pizzeria. About seven kids were there, including Linda and her boyfriend Danny. Alice tried not to, but she kept staring at Rickie, who didn’t notice as his eyes never left the plate in front of him.
As promised, Linda had assured him that he was welcome even if he wasn’t able to accompany them to the hospital earlier that afternoon. He met them at the restaurant, and was welcomed by the other teens, most of whom had him in some of their classes.
Alice’s attention, while understandably awestruck due to the enormous crush she had, intensified even more when she thought she noticed something…something that she knew just a little about, and was sure Rickie hoped no one did.
The kids were all in the parking lot, getting ready to go home. Gina sat in a gray mini-van with her friend Grace, Danny’s mom, waiting for Linda and Danny to finish saying goodbye. Gina saw that Rickie was standing with the kids, and was glad at least that he was making some friends. Her niece was always one to draw people out, and Gina prayed that would at least be a partial answer to prayer.
Trying to be discreet, Alice walked over to Rickie while the others laughed at a joke one of them told. She smiled at him, which surprised him. He was even more surprised at what she had to say, which she did softly and out of earshot of the others.
“I think you missed some….” She whispered quietly but loud enough so as to need being repeated.
“I’m sorry, missed what?”
“You missed some eye shadow…I don’t think anyone else noticed. No one had, not even Linda, whose gender-fluid boyfriend Danny had more than a little experience in that area.
Rickie’s face started to turn red, and he stepped over to a car sitting directly under the parking lot light. He looked into the side view mirror and quickly rubbed his eyelid with his sleeve. He turned around and walked straight into Alice, who had moved up behind him.
“I’ve got a cousin in New Jersey who dresses.” Rickie knew exactly what she was talking about, and while he made every effort by his expression to deny her inference, she maintained her typical forward attitude and added quickly,
“And I love him to pieces!” She reached over and squeezed his hand before walking back to join the others. The gesture was layered with meanings for both teens, and it marked the beginning of God’s plan to deliver Rickie from his private hell.
At the school, a few weeks later…
“Betty, you’ve got to see this, come quick,” Gina said from the conference room. Betty walked in to see the TV in the corner tuned to the news.
“Richard Danvers, a prominent Philly businessman and close friend City Councilman Phillip McKenzie, was forty-three. He was found in his house late yesterday afternoon by police, who had been summoned….”
Betty looked at Gina in disbelief.
“Authorities have not ruled the circumstances of Danvers’ death, but an unnamed source close to the mayor’s office informed the station that prescription drugs and alcohol…..”
While both women were understandably angry toward Rickie’s dad, neither would have wished that fate on him.
“Danvers’ secretary stated that he had been troubled by some setbacks in investments, and was believed to have….”
“I’m going to call Angela…she’s probably at work, and I’m sure she knows already.” Betty said.
“Sweetie, let me handle that…you’ve got to go get Rickie.” Tears started to fill Gina’s eyes, not for the untimely death of someone she did not know, as tragic as that might have been, but for the boy and his aunt, who would deal with the emotional fallout of unmerited guilt and unresolved hurt.
Betty fought back her own tears as she went to the front desk to find out where Rickie’s class was that bell. The women provided as much support for the boy until his aunt arrived. They offered to help out in any way, and Gina took Angela aside to remind her that she would help address the other issues when they were ready.
The home of Erica and Mark Kiernan…
Gina knocked on the door, which was ajar. She had already called ahead so she walked in. Angela had learned about Gina’s friends and welcomed any insight they could provide. Gina heard music coming from the den, and was about to ask who was home when Erica came down the hallway to greet her.
“He or she?” Gina asked with a grin as she pointed in the direction of the music. By now, it had almost become a game for the two women. Erica’s husband Mark played Classical and Celtic, while his “sister”played Porter and Buble’.
That is unless she played classical and he played jazz; she being Erica’s husband’s alter-ego, Maired, who visited the Kiernan household from time to time.
“Neither, sweetie, Mark went to pick up some groceries. That’s their CD.” Erica laughed as she poured them both coffee. While neither woman was fluent in Italian, the liner notes for the recording also included the translation of Lascia ch'io pianga mia cruda sorte….Let me weep over my cruel fate. Ironic but fitting; only Rickie’s story would not end there…not if Gina could help it.
“This kid has been through hell already, and I’m afraid he’s just getting started. I can’t share anything in particular, but I have a feeling everything may come to a head with the funeral on Friday.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Erica said with more than a little faith. They prayed over the issue and finished the afternoon picking out clothes for Maired’s photo for the album. Something green to go with her red hair.
Angela and Rickie’s apartment…
Rickie stood at the doorway as Alice waved hello from the landing. Rickie was wearing an Eagles sweatshirt and some green sweatpants. His tired demeanor distracted Alice enough that she didn’t notice the dark nylon than covered Rickie’s feet.
“I’m… I won’t keep you…” an odd if ironic turn of phrase. “I’m… we’re all sorry to hear about your dad, Rickie.” Alice looked at him and her eyes began to mist.
You might think it was only a small bit of sympathy from a teenage girl, like you might see placing a teddy bear at a shrine for a fallen classmate. That would actually have sufficed, but Alice wasn’t just a sympathetic teen.
“After what you’ve been through and now without any way of…”she paused, looking for the right words. “Rickie…some of us know what…we knew you didn’t fall or run into stuff, and your mother was…” She actually began to sob, as her young heart tenderly connected with the pain she knew he must have felt. He looked at her and stared, not capable of speech.
“And now he’s gone…and you’re here. And it hurts.” Alice may have been forward, some might call it intrusive or rude, but she never spoke unless she felt what she would say would mend and not tear down. Rickie was a bit taller than her, but she cradled him on her shoulder as years of shame and pain began to wash away with the comfort of a new-found friend.
That evening…
“Honey, I’ll understand if you don’t want to go.” Angela said as she stood by the hall mirror, combing her hair. A closed casket wake would be hard enough under any circumstances.
“Everyone who cares will understand and those who don’t, well to hell with them.”
She sighed.
“And don’t worry about tomorrow. Just a simple service at the funeral home. I just need to go… for closure. But I’m coming right back as soon as it’s over, okay?” Angela grabbed he keys and walked over, kissing Rickie on the cheek.
“You just rest, alright? Love you,” she said from the door and walled out.
About an hour later, Angela came home to find the apartment dark. Rickie had not opened up, at least to Angela, about his father’s death, leaving her worried as she entered. She called his name.
Hearing no answer, she walked down the hall toward Rickie’s bedroom. He wasn’t there, so she knocked on the bathroom door. When she heard no answer, she called out once again, she knocked again. Opening the door, she found Rickie passed out on the floor, blood coming out of his mouth.
At the hospital…
Angela stood close to the doctor, her head slightly forward in attention.
“I’m Dr. Sharma, Ms. Olerud,” the woman spoke.
“Rickie’s resting quietly; you’ll be able to see him in about an hour. There’s one thing, though, that I wanted to warn you about. When the EMT’s brought him in, we examined him. The surgery addressed the ulcer, and he should get better with medication and diet. We found damage elsewhere.”
Angela’s eyes widened in horror as the doctor described how Rickie may have been the victim of rape.
"He’s an adult, so he’d have to press charges himself. The ulcer seems to be the least of his problems. I can have a social worker drop by tomorrow, if you’d like.” Angela nodded and thanked the doctor. She almost staggered back to the waiting area where Betty and Gina waited.
“Angela, is everything okay? How did the surgery go?”
“O…kay, I guess. No, that went alright….The doctor…. Said...” she began to sob, prompting both women to help her into a seat. She gained composure only long enough to finish her sentence before collapsing in Betty’s arms.
Angela and Rickie’s apartment…
“Honey, can I get you anything before I go?” Angela stood at the kitchen table. Rickie was in the living room stretched out on the couch with the TV on but muted. He nodded.
It been nearly two weeks, and he was already off bed rest, but Angela insisted that he continue to rest at home. He had gone back to school only on Wednesday, but the guidance department had kept him up to speed with his assignments, which were happily delivered by a not-so-disinterested classmate.
The physical hurt had just begun to heal. Angela wasn’t sure at all about the emotional damage. She had asked him if he needed to talk to her, but he refused, and the both Betty and the social worker had encouraged her to give him time
“No, the soup and juice were great, Angela.” Even though he was eighteen, it was a little disappointing that he didn’t call her Aunt Angela, but she wasn’t going to burden him with her stuff.
“Okay, Rickie, you’ve got my cell number and number for my floor is on the fridge. Be back a little after midnight.” She walked to his bed and kissed him on the cheek. He winced, but softened enough to allow her to kiss him. She walked down the hall, shaking her head, not at his reluctance to accept her love, but that he was so hurt as to be in that horrible place.
Ricki walked quietly back to her room, shutting the door behind her. She had been confused and hurt, and really had no one to talk to. Her mirror image, as welcoming as she seemed, remained silent, leaving her with little hope and no change. She stared at the girl in the mirror, and felt ashamed beyond belief.
“It must have been my fault, she said to herself. I must have done something. I must have said something.” She looked again at her image. She wore her favorite dress, her aunt’s nice green floral print. She liked it for two reasons. First, it was pretty, and made her feel, if only for scant moments, a little better.
And more importantly, she loved it because when she wore it she felt a connection with her aunt. She knew that she resembled her mother, and maybe that would be the thing that helped Angela understand? She didn’t even really understand herself. But as she looked again, the resemblance made her think, which made her feel, and waves of guilt and shame came over her once again when she remembered the long, horrific nights after her mother passed. Her father came home late one night, and she knew he had been drinking…he always drank. The first night was the worst…
Ricki was trying on some of her mother’s clothes when her stepfather burst into her room. He saw her standing there, and he flew into a rage. She fell to the floor as he beat her with his belt, saying, “You goddam fag. I’ll teach you.”
“Want to dress like a girl, then you’re going to be a girl.”
He closed the bedroom door. No one heard her cries. He left her on the bloodied bed and fell back into a drunken stupor in his own room. No acknowledgement, no notice, ever. She went to school the next day, praying desperately that it was at least only a nightmare. It could never be a dream. But he returned the next night, and it started all over. It didn’t stop until he kicked her out of the house. But now he was dead. He was gone, but the pain remained.
For only the second time in her life, she cried out to God. The first was when her mother died, and she felt her cries had fallen on deaf ears. Three women and one girl gave proof that God had heard, but she wasn’t at the place where she could understand.
“I hate myself…I wish I died…I should have died…Mommy didn’t deserve to die…She was…I hate him…I hate him so much.
Please, let me die….I can’t do this anymore.” She got so worked up that her crying actually became physically painful. Loud wails escaped her mouth as she cried as hard as anyone can, but no answer came. That is, no answer came in the way she had anticipated.
“Rickie….Rickie, hey…anybody home,” Alice called from the front door. Angela had not locked the door, since he was going to be home anyway, and the first small part of God’s place came to pass, as some say, when the girl walked down the hallway, continuing to call.
“Rickie…hey, it’s me, Alice. Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she almost sang as she reached Rickie’s bedroom.
Sobs came from the bedroom and Alice opened the door, wanting to console her friend.
She wasn’t prepared for what she saw next, at least at first; she had actually been preparing for this her whole life. She saw a teenage girl practically writhing on the floor. Her sobs were so intense that her shoulders were heaving. Alice rushed to her side and knelt on the floor beside her. Without a thought, she leaned over the sobbing girl and hugged her prostrate body.
“It’s okay….it’s okay.” She kissed the girl’s cheek and own tears mingled with the Rickie’s.
“Not….not okay. I want to die…He….I…sorry….sorry. Momma, I’m so sorry.” she sobbed and Alice prayed as only a very determined, not too shy to ask for anything girl can.
“I know, honey, I know…..I know.” Alice willed herself to stop crying and picked up the girl up in her arms and held her.
“I know….” she said very softly, almost as a whisper but as loud as was needed to pierce through the shame and despair. Her words were simple, but the very words Rickie Danvers needed to hear.
Soon after…
Angela came into the apartment in a rush; Alice having called her and asked for her to come home. She had gotten Rickie into bed, and was sitting on the couch watching a cooking show when Angela entered.
“It’s okay, Miss Olerud, he’s resting. I put him to bed. I made myself a Hot Pocket, I hope that’s okay?” Angela walked over to her and sat down, hugging her and saying,
“Oh, honey, that’s okay….thank you….thank you.”
“He told me…Oh, God, he told me what his dad did.” Angela did not want to know, but she had an idea. Alice would never share what Rickie had told her with anyone, ever. He eventually did, weeks later, with a counselor.
“He told me that his mother used to…when he was about seven…she would dress him in girl’s clothes. Her cousin’s kids had grown out of them. She… she hoped for a girl. She stopped I guess when she realized how wrong that was, but he kept…dressing. His dad was always working, and when he wasn’t he was drinking.” Alice paused and looked at the frony door, as if Richard Danver would walk in.
“Anyway, he said that his dad found out about it right after his mom died. That’s when he started beating Rickie.” Alice by now was fighting back tears, not only for her compassion for her friend, but because of her own experience. She remembered what Angela already knew, and she couldn’t help herself.
“I know what he went through….a camp counselor….meh…me…fifteen. He’s in jail. Forgave….forgave him….hard, but….had to…for me.” Alice wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and she looked at Angela.
“Needs God’s love….shame….horrible.” Angela took the girl in her arms and they both cried. They cried for him and they cried for them.
That September…
In the fall, the teens went away to school, without leaving. The high school kept on teaching and everything worked fairly well for almost everybody. Dogs continued to bark at cats that teased and scratched, and the leaves turned a wonderful array of oranges and yellows. Mentors taught and students listened. Counselors and friends listened and healing took place. Death and hurt were replaced slowly but ever surely by life and joy and peace.
“Hold still,” the one girl said to the other. College freshmen. Townies….living at home…best friends.
“You said you’d let me help, and I intend to do just that.” Her friend was not very adept with makeup, even at eighteen, having few occasions in her life that required it. She was pretty and her friend tried to tell her that, not to appeal to any vanity, but for two other reasons. Her friend had very little of that growing up, and she needed to hear something positive now and then to take the sting away from those lost years. She also told her she was pretty because that’s how she felt. And she was never one to hold back.
“I’m still scared.” Years of neglect and months of abuse had driven fear so deep in her heart, that she felt she’d never recover, but for the love of three women and this one girl.
“It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and besides, you can change if you want to when we’re done.” Alice insisted. Ricki shook her head.
“That’s not it,” she said softly.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Alice said as she completed the eye shadow and moved to the eyebrows.
“This is wrong,” Ricki exclaimed, arguing once again out of fear and shame.
“I don’t think so,” Alice replied with an accent on the “I.”
“I can’t think of anything more right.”
The two girls stood on the hill, looking down toward the spot. A fine mist covered their faces as it started to rain.
“There it is…that’s where….they’re buried.” The blond girl was only a bit taller than the cute brunette by her side.
Ricki stood stock still until Alice grabbed her hand and proceeded down the hill toward the grave site. She squeezed the girl’s hand and urged her forward. Two women stood further up on the hill overlooking the cemetery. They held hands and prayed.
“I can’t do this….It still hurts too much.”
“I know…but you can do this. You’ve already said it many times, and I know you mean it. I’ll stand with you, if you like.” Alice took the girl’s hand once again and stepped up to the headstone.
“Richard Edward Danvers 1967-2010,” the first stone read.
It was flanked by another headstone; “Inga Olerud Danvers 1972-2009”
She had no say in her mother’s gravestone and was hurt that it was so plain. Her father’s stone was unadorned as well, but it did not matter to her. Tears streamed down her face. Alice drew closer and held her arm.
“Go ahead; you need this more than he does.” It would have been just as true a statement even if her father were still alive.
“Daddy….I…I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I hated you. Please forgive me.”
No words came from the grave, of course. But the clouds over her life had started to part as she said,
“But I forgive you.”
Alice stood beside her and looked upward and mouthed, “Thank YOU.” She handed the Ricki the rose she was carrying. “I’ll wait over by the bench for you.” She walked over and sat down on the bench in the middle of the cobblestone path.
“I miss you, momma. I miss you so much. Guess what. I’m going to college. Right near here. Angela…Aunt Angela says she’ll stop by tomorrow. Momma…I know you didn’t mean to, but I guess what we did hurt me a little. It wasn’t your fault…what Daddy did…I forgive you. I was so angry at you…will you forgive me. Momma, I love you. I know you wanted the best for me, and I’m sorry that I got sidetracked. But I have the best life. I have friends who love me.”
She looked back at the girl on the bench who smiled serenely.
“I love living with Aunt Angela. Momma. I have to go. I’ll be back…I promise.” Ricki placed the rose on the grave and walked over to the bench where Alice sat.
Like so many others like her; so many of us in fact; she may have been born for all the wrong reasons, but eventually became who she was for all the right ones.
Uncharacteristically, Alice looked around to see if anyone was watching. For the most part, she was confident in who she was and what she did; her concern was for the girl. She noticed no one other than a maintenance man way down the path.
Looking around one last time, she moved closer to the girl and pulled her into a very determined (even for her) kiss. She failed to notice the two women at the top of the hill, who stood in the rain, smiling in relief. Gina Kelly looked at Betty Aberlin and said with a grin, “Absolutely friggin fantastic!”
The nervous Swede kissed back only slightly, still surprised at friend’s actions. The brunette ignored what her Asian side was saying to her and acted much like her Irish mother. She reached over again and kissed the blond, this time with no reserve at all. Remember in It’s a Wonderful Life, where George and Mary are kids at the soda shop? Like Mary, Alice whispered into the girl’s ear, “I’m going to love you til the day I die…Rickie Olerud.”
Chapter Two – The Lock
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, three years later…
Detective Donna Carter tossed her purse into the squad car and got in. If you met her, you might think she reminded you of someone you knew; she bore a slight resemblance to Gina Davis, although she was blonde and more on the short side of 5'10". Still an attractive woman, even if she wore the non-descript trousers jacket and sensible shoes of a homicide detective.
"You know you don't have to do this; you could have refused like everyone else;,"she said; everyone else being the detectives in the precinct, who had refused to work with her, but more about that later. Terry Manahan got in the driver's seat and started the car, turning around and saying,
"I know I don't have to. I want to Don....Donna," he corrected himself. He'd remind himself later to keep that in mind, since calling his partner Donna was entirely new for him and for her. Terry had been partner to Don Carter for six years; that is until Don began his transition to Donna.
Once a beat cop and then patrol officer, she'd made two changes at once. She'd also earned her detective shield, and was partnered with the last person she'd expect to work with, her brother-in-law and former partner. It was awkward since not only did they share a profession, but they were related...sort of. Terry and Don had been friends since the academy, and they had a long history, most of which recently was sad and bittersweet.
Jeannie, Terry's sister, was married to Don for four years until her life ended abruptly while giving birth to Steven, their still-born son. Don had fallen into a deep depression after Jeannie's death, and had even contemplated leaving police work altogether until Terry's daily visits and talks helped raise him out of his depression. He sought help and gained tremendous strength from therapy.
It was during that last year that Don decided; rather discovered that he would be fulfilled living as a woman. He had been transitioning for over seventeen months, much to the chagrin of the department. Chief Dougherty had no problem with a transgender officer, and recognized that nothing significant had changed in regard to Donna's police work. He...she remained the best cop he had in the department other than his partner Terry.
Terry, for his part, had no immediate problem with Donna's decision. He looked at it simply, perhaps to simple for some, but accurate nonetheless. If Don had come to him and said he was converting to Episcopal or Lutheran, he might be surprised, since they both grew up attending St. Margaret's down the street, but he wouldn't be upset. Now if Don said he was switching from the Eagles to the Giants, that might be troublesome. Terry was just that type of person.
"Chief says none of the other guys want to work with you, so you're stuck with me I guess." Sad, but perfectly understandable. No cop wanted to work with someone he couldn't trust, and since they were misinformed and ignorant about Donna, they all declined the offer to partner with Donna, even Connie Ramirez and Louise Washington, the other female detectives on the squad. They might come around, but not today.
They drove down the street toward the WaWa for coffee. They wrapped up their first case in fifteen minutes when the perp walked into the precinct and confessed; more out of encouragement and a smack on his head from his grandmother than any remorse. It left them free for at least a while until the Chief got back from lunch and assigned them their next case.
Terry kept looking over at Donna, as if he looked long enough, his old partner would be sitting beside him in the car instead of an attractive woman. Even though he accepted Donna, he was still trying to wrap his head around the whole idea, like some people say.
"Tell me something..." Terry hesitated; his question was not only awkward and embarrassing, but highly personal as well as entirely predictable. As if the question wasn;t enough of an embarrassment to Donna,Terry eyed her up and down
"Yes..." Donna paused and looked out the window of the squad car as scenery whisked by. She hesitated but continued, a slight angry tone in her voice;
"And no," she snapped.
"Most but not everyone does, despite what you may have heard on Tyra or Jerry Springer." She laughed nervously at the comment, but it ate her up inside that nobody she knew understood her. More than anything, Donna wanted Terry to understand. Terry was like a big brother to her and he was her best friend, at least she hoped he still was.
'So you're tellin' me …"
"Did you at least save some...Terry squeezed the steering wheel tight as he looked ahead at the road, trying not to seem too...ignorant."
"Terry, please stop." She said his name in a manner that was so different...so...feminine.
They'd had this conversation before; why did he want to change since he'd been married to Terry's sister. Terry admitted that he had been angry that Donna had transitioned so soon after Jeannie's death; if you consider three years too soon. He felt betrayed himself, as if Donna's choice took away his best friend.
"I'm still me; I still can do my job, and I've still got your back. Understand." Imagine your favorite male character of all time; same loyalty and courage, same devotion to friends and family, but with Angie Harmon’s voice. It would be awkward for you, no matter how enlightened or progressive you were.
"There isn't a day goes by that I don't think about Jeannie and...Stevie." She thought not only of her high school sweetheart but the baby she never even held. “I loved her then and I love her now..."
"How the hell can that be? I just don't understand." Terry was almost rude, but he did want to understand. He wanted to accept his best friend’s decision. His chief complaint was that he was overwhelmed with the changes that had occurred. He still grieved over the death of his sister and nephew, and in a way was grieving for the "death" of his best friend.
Donna turned her head and leaned on the car window and began to weep, revealing another heretofore new aspect of her new life to her partner.
Terry looked over at her and started to take his right hand off the wheel to pat her on the back, but he thought about it and said instead.
"Yeah, I miss her too something awful, every day."
He wanted to console Donna, but something held him back; actually more than one thing. First, he was having very odd and conflicting thoughts about the woman next to him. She was actually attractive. Don had been a fairly good looking guy, but Donna was somehow prettier than Terry had expected.
Second, and probably more important, Donna still was his best friend. They had shared words and secrets and experiences, nearly getting killed during one case, saving each other's life on more than one occasion. Donna understood Terry better than anyone else. But no. Perhaps in someone else's story in another time or place or lifetime, but Terry realized he could never feel that way about her.
And Donna, despite her appearance and demeanor, was still a one-woman “woman,” like you might see on some website, “Sorry, boys, not interested.” She had yearned for a time when she would be able to be “herself” as it were. She had actually revealed this side of her to Jeannie just after they found out their first child was on the way, and Jeannie had reacted with some confusion but loved Don enough to talk about his “other side,” but that’s as far as it got.
And now, alone, almost without any friends; she still had doubts about Terry, she feared she would be lonely for a very long time. Most of the department had already rejected her, and her new appointment would keep her busy enough to preclude even the thought of a new relationship, much less the time and effort.
And finally, with her still too-recent loss of Jeannie and the baby, there was still way too much pain to deal with, despite the fact that she was overwhelmingly sad and lonely. In that context, she was just starting her new job.
At the precinct…
“You have to understand,” the voice on the phone had said. “I can’t tell you too much. You’re going to have to figure this out for yourself…on your own. I’ve said all I can say, and don’t call me here again!”
The man hung up the phone abruptly, but the information he had just told Terry would be the catalyst in solving the open case they’d just been handed. Terry looked back at Donna, who was perusing the file.
“You are not going to believe this. Danvers ain’t dead!” Richard Danvers, yes that Richard Danvers, the man who abused his wife and step-son; the man who raped Rickie and then disowned him, leaving him without family or home. That Richard Danvers.
Donna looked at Terry with an expression that said,
“You’re joking,” even as she knew he wasn’t
Terry responded with an expression that clearly said, “We’ve stepped in it big time!”
Donna looked down at the file. Inga Olerud: suspected homicide. Richard Danvers; deceased; cause unknown, suspected drug overdose. The file included the fact that Danvers never married Inga Olerud, and that her death was highly suspicious, with no leads. Donna looked up and asked,
“He’s in Protection, isn’t he?”
“That’s what this guy was just telling me. And he said one more thing before he hung up. Danvers is missing!”
Donna’s new demeanor and appearance remained intact, and her voice, after months of practice, had approached a nice alto-like tone. Her expression, however, was anything but ladylike when she said, “OH fuck”
Across from D’Angelo’s Hair salon, Drexel Hill, PA…
Alice got out of her car and was about to cross the street to meet Rickie at the salon. She would have skipped across; she was excited because in three plus weeks she and Rickie would be married. She was about to step onto the pavement when she spotted Rickie in front of the salon. While the ceremony would be traditional in deference to Alice’s relatives from Taipei, her parents had already accepted their future “daughter-in-law,” who frequently made an appearance at the Chang household.
Alice was meeting Rickie so that they could have a girl’s day of pampering. She’d scale back the hair for the wedding, but with the ceremony still three weeks away, plenty of time for girl stuff for her and Alice. Rickie saw Alice get out of her car, and started to walk across the street.
A black SUV pulled out and bore down on her as she waved to Alice while walking over. The SUV accelerated and nearly hit Rickie, who jumped out of the way, only to hit her elbow hard on the curb, which hurt like hell but broke her fall enough to keep her from hitting her head on the sidewalk. Alice ran over and cradled Rickie in her arms and asked for someone to call 911.
A tall attractive Asian woman pulled out her cell and called. After hanging up, she quickly punched in another number with as much urgency as the first call.
“I told you this was going to happen and it did. Reel the bastard in before this kid gets killed.” She closed her cell phone and quickly disappeared into the crowd before Alice could thank her. The ambulance came moments later and Rickie ended up in the ER with a soft cast on her arm and multiple kisses on her cheeks, forehead and lips from her fiancée.
At Donna’s apartment that evening…
It was only about seven or so, but Donna decided to get ready for bed early. She had changed into her footie PJs and had picked up the latest Stephen Coonts novel when the doorbell rang. She put on her robe and went to the door. Terry stood at the doorway with an Asian woman, the same woman who had witnessed the attempt on Rickie’s life. Terry didn’t wait for an invitation and they both walked into Donna’s living room.
“Don…Donna, this is Marshal Dani Liu from the U.S. Marshal’s Office. It would seem that my source was telling the truth. Rick Danvers is alive, and he’s flown the coop. Someone just tried to kill his kid today, and Dani thinks it won’t be the last time they try.
Dani Liu was an impressive woman. She was three years into working in the Marshal’s Office and was a lead investigator. And she was very impressive in the looks department.
She was a big girl in the height department as well. She stood eye-to-eye with Terry, which would have made her about 5’11” Her features resembled a cross between Michelle Yeoh and Tia Carrere, which made her quite attractive. But she commanded respect with her tone; she was professional and well-versed on the case after only an hour with the file.
“We think Inga found out about what Danvers was up to; we’re still trying to figure that out. But someone knows he’s alive. I think that’s why they tried to kill Rickie; maybe to send a message; maybe revenge. We just don’t know. But we do know this; Danvers isn’t a cooperating witness anymore; he shook his baby sitter last week and has fallen off the face of the earth. Kevin Reilly over at the Bureau is looking into whether or not there’s a mole at WITSEC. He thinks whoever Danvers was supposed to testify against must have gotten tipped off, and he wants him dead.
“Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us; I think a pizza and some beer might do the trick, since we’re going to be here for some time; Reilly is driving over from Camden and should be here in about an hour.”
Terry didn’t sound too enthusiastic; he had tickets to the Flyers-Red Wings game, and that was out the window. Donna had planned on a quiet evening, but went with the flow. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out some Poland Spring. Terry waved it off; he was already heading for the door to go get the pizza and beer.
Dani nodded and walked over to Donna to accept the bottle of water. Perhaps the leather soles of her shoes combined with the Donna’s living room carpet? She reached over and touched Donna’s hand, evoking a loud click as a spark actually passed between them, evoking an even louder “Ow” from both women. They laughed, and their eyes met. Corny, maybe, but sometimes physical attraction actually just starts with…physics.
Chapter Three – The Key
The home of David and Mary Patricia Chang…
"But the wedding is only three weeks away," Alice said, understandably upset. She was still worried about Rickie but they had spent the better part of three years planning for that day, having gotten engaged with the plan of waiting until after graduation before marriage.
Rickie's full scholarship for the fall, coupled with Alice' early finish, caused them to move up their plans a year. They had been in love since high school, and had been through a lot together, including the near fatal "accident" last week.
"We're not saying cancel it; just be prepared for your own safety's sake to postpone it if we don't get this solved soon." Dani addressed her comments to Rickie, who was sitting on the couch, en femme. She was crying, and Alice had failed miserably at comforting her. She had tried her best, but she struggled with the anger that rose up inside when she realized Rick Danvers was alive. By now, she had told their guardians about her history of abuse at the hands of her stepfather. They grimaced as she told of her rape at his hands and the physical beatings that lasted nearly a year.
And now, to find out that Danvers was not only alive, but likely the reason her mother was murdered. Donna sat down next to Rickie and held her in her arms, patting her back. If anyone in the room understood grief, it was Donna. Terry understood as well, but was never one to offer comfort, at least in that manner. It came easy to Donna, as if it were her life's calling, leaving Terry to wonder just where did his partner "go?"
"We think your mother knew something about what happened to all the money Danvers supposedly had. His books were forged, and he never revealed anything of importance to his secretary. Inga either knew where the money was or knew why Danvers had it, and someone wanted her silent." Dani didn't say it coldly, but it came out that way nonetheless.
Either Danvers had killed her or she was killed by someone else for what she knew. Either way, Danvers was responsible, and all the work that Rickie had done in trying to forgive her stepfather was nearly lost in that moment. Donna held her at arm’s length and looked her in the eye and said.
"We're going to get him. And one way or another, we're going to find out who killed your mother. I promise." Dani winced at the unrealistic promise that Donna had just made, but Terry looked at his partner with pride. Under any other circumstance at any other time, Terry would have taken Don aside and chewed him out. But this was Donna, and for some reason, Terry smiled and nodded in approval.
"Detective Manahan will be keeping an eye on things from a distance, so to speak. He'll be working with Kevin Reilly at the bureau now that the idiot running Danvers finally revealed just who he stole his money from. It seems that he was laundering money for Antonin Bruschia out of the Scarfo family right over in Philadelphia. Bruschia's in lockup awaiting trial and WITSEC said that Danvers was due to testify.
Since Danvers has fallen off the face of the earth, Bruschia could get out without anyone to testify. And that may be why Rickie was nearly killed; probably a warning to Danvers that it could happen to him. Either way, Manahan and Reilly will be keeping an eye on Bruschia's kid and his minions. It's our job to keep an eye on you two." Dani pointed to Donna and herself.
"You can explain our presence by saying I'm your cousin who you called in to help with the planning. Your wedding planner has been contacted and has agreed to help. We should fit right in, no questions asked." She pointed to herself; she was wearing an exquisitely tailored cream silk skirt suit with a jade silk blouse. Alice looked at her and nodded, but then looked over at Donna, who was still comforting Rickie.
"What about her, Alice said, pointing to Donna. She was wearing a charcoal gray silk skirt suit with an ice blue silk blouse. She was dressed more attractively than she had ever been in her short life, and she had mixed emotions. She felt odd, since most of her wardrobe, female though it was, tended toward pant suits like Sandra Bullock's character in "Miss Congeniality." And the other half of her uneasiness made itself known moments later when Dani walked up to Donna and pulled her to her feet.
"She's going to be my partner," Dani said.
"Why would you need a partner when my planner is handling this with you?" Alice said. Rickie looked up and wiped her face with her sleeve and said,
"I don't think she means that kind of partner." Dani looked at Alice and then pulled Donna closer.
"Nope, not that kind, this kind." With that she leaned over and kissed Donna, causing Alice, Terry, and especially Donna to blush while she smiled wryly.
A few weeks later… FDC Philadelphia
Antonin Bruschia sat across from Terry and Reilly and smiled. Time had flown by and there was only a few days until the wedding. Terry figured if something was going to happen, it would happen soon.
“And you think I had something to do with this? I have very long arms, it is true, but my arms don’t reach that far any more Talk to the D.A. He’ll tell you that I’ve cooperated with the feds since I got here.”
Terry wondered how much more effective the agencies would be if they only talked to each other once in awhile.
“You see, Detective, I have gotten, how would you say, religion. Some say “fox-hole,” since I have had an abrupt interruption in my routine. You might say God has gotten my attention; I have colon cancer and I have about three or four months to live. Six months, tops, the doctors tell me.
My legacy, my dear Detective Manahan is that I want to set things right before I die. I have come to the conclusion that I have been a very bad person, and I want to make amends. I know things will never be as they were, such as it is, but I have had my son quietly liquidating my investments; at least those that aren’t mingled with my previous associates.
I have restored about six million dollars to the state to be distributed as they are able to my…business investors. My wife has moved into a nice four bedroom home in the suburbs and she has sold all five of our properties. The money is to be donated to a scholarship fund for the children of fallen police officers; in the name of the four men who were killed last fall.
I cannot begin to atone for what I have done; only one can, and I have sought His forgiveness. I can only pray that I will be received as one who owes a great debt that only He can repay. I’m afraid you’re looking at the wrong man. I’m not the key to this case.”
He glared at Terry and Reilly before breaking into a wide grin.
“I’m no threat, but watch out for Danvers….he has connections I could only dream about. Very evil men. Wicked.”
“Aren’t you worried?” Kevin asked. Bruscia smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“My favorite movie…Body and Soul? John Garfield fails to throw the fight and the thug stares at him as he’s walking out of the ring. Garfield laughs and says, ‘Whatya gonna do? Kill me? Everybody dies.’ You see Agent Reilly? I’m already dead in my body and I made my peace with God. And you people have everything I could ever give you, so no…I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight.”
A few days on the way to the precinct…
Something Bruschia said was eating at Terry, but he couldn’t figure what just yet, but he knew that it had something to do with the case, and why Inga Olerud was killed. Reilly and he spent the better part of three days calling all the agencies in the alphabet, and verified that Bruschia was telling the truth.
Terry wasn’t sure of Bruschia’s motives, and he sure wasn’t prepared to offer the forgiveness Bruschia sought. He knew one thing for sure, however. If Bruschia didn’t kill Inga, then he knew who did, and that meant Rickie Olerud was in danger, along with anyone even remotely close to him. He flipped on the siren and lights while Reilly called in for backup.
At the church reception hall…
Dani and Donna stood in the doorway of the hall, observing the comings and goings of the family and friends.
“Stand next to me like you really want to; you’re acting all nervous, and not at all like my partner.”
Dani frowned, nearly scowling at Donna, who had grown very uncomfortable in her ‘role.” She had found herself growing attracted to Dani Liu, and it bothered her. First, like almost all widowed spouses, she feared that she was betraying her memory of Jeannie; the old wonderful relationship was being usurped by the new, confusing one.
Second, she was afraid to invest any emotional energy into a relationship with someone she barely knew. She had be mistreated and ostracized by her peers, apart from Chief Dougherty and Terry, and the possibility of another rejection was just too painful to think about. What she couldn’t shake, however, was that she felt exactly the same way about Dani as she had about Jeannie when they first met. The familiarity was at once charming and terrifying, since she was left with a choice she wasn’t nearly prepared to make.
Dani stepped closer to her and whispered in her ear,
“At least act like you care about me…for the sake of appearances.” She said it in a manner that was both convincing but confusing at the same time until she added,
“I care about you.” Once again, carpet and shoe leather created a volatile mix and the next words from both women were,
“OW!” as a spark loudly passed from Dani’s lips to Donna’s ear.
For the sake of her Taipei relatives, the wedding was going to be a mixture of Chinese and American traditional….the groom would reluctantly be wearing a tux, though anything was possible on the honeymoon. Unlike many families, the Chang’s had welcomed both of Rickie’s personae, seeing that he/she met their daughter’s need for love.
The rehearsal dinner was only a few hours away, and the family was busy decorating the hall for both the wedding and the reception. Alice’s brother Mike had flown in from Taipei with his fiancé; a lovely Swedish girl that was working on the same missions team as him. He was going to be Rickie’s best man.
Alice had asked her best friend Linda Sorrento, to be her maid of honor, so the evening promised to be one of renewal of family relationships and friendships as well as new friendships.
Donna and Dani were talking with Mary Pat Chang, Alice’s mother. She had moved from Ireland to the states to attend school; love was in the air, and David Chang married Mary Pat O’Shaunessey. The two were trying to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
The minister entered the hall and walked over to a side door to the kitchen, beckoning Alice to come over. She entered the room first, and the minister smiled as he waited for Rickie to follow. Rickie had seen the minister from across the hall, so he walked over and entered the room. He looked at the two standing there and all of the color left his face.
“Surprised to see me, son?” Rick Danvers stood and stared at Rickie, who had moved close to Alice. Danvers was wearing a minister’s collar around his neck and a pistol in his hand. He walked over and locked the door.
"Mrs. Chang, isn't this an evangelical church?" Donna asked. Mary Pat nodded yes.
"Then what is the minister doing wearing a collar?" Dani looked at her and her eyes widened in urgent recognition. The two ran to the side room and found the door locked. They heard voices on the other side of the door.
“We’re going to go out the back and take a little ride, Everyone thinks Bruschia is behind this, and while they’re trying to figure out what happened you and I can get the key.” Danvers smirked, and Alice drew closer to Rickie.
“What key?” Rickie’s eyes were filled with angry tears, but he wasn’t afraid.
“Your mother…the bitch…she told me that only one held the key…It has to be to a lock box or a locker. Somewhere. I know she didn’t lie. She told me when I said I’d let her live if she helped me.” He was so twisted that he actually laughed at the thought.
Alice, determined girl that she was, stood in front of Rickie and said,
“She’s not going anywhere with you!”
“I don’t have time for this crap,” he said and he hit Alice in the face with the pistol, knocking her to the ground. Rickie stepped forward and tried to take the gun from Danvers’ hand. In the struggle, the gun went off and Rickie fell backward, his shoulder bleeding.”
Donna and Dani forced the door open just as Danvers picked up the gun once again. Dani had her weapon drawn and shot at Danvers, but he moved just as she fired, and her shot only managed to put a hole in his jacket. She tried to fire again, but Danvers fired first; the bullet never hit the mark, piercing Donna’s chest instead as she threw herself in front of Dani.
“This is getting old,” Danvers said as he walked over to Rickie’s prostrate form. Seeing him alive and coming to, he took the pistol and placed it against Alice’s head.
“The key or the girl?’
“What key?” Rickie’s expression pled with Danvers, fearful that no answer would satisfy him and Alice would die.
“How about neither?” A voice came from behind Danvers. He turned and fired as twin blasts echoed in the room. A piece of plaster chipped off the wall just behind Terry as his shot pierced Danvers left shoulder. He took aim at Terry and was squeezing the trigger when another blast echoed in the small room and a red spot blossomed and grew on Danvers’ chest as he fell back, dead. Terry stepped over Danvers’ body even as Kevin Reilly holstered his weapon and called for an ambulance.
Alice cradled Rickie’s body in her arms. She tore off a part of her skirt and used it to stanch the flow of blood from Rickie’s shoulder, ignoring the blood streaming down her cheek from the wound from Danvers’ gun. Reilly helped hold a handkerchief over her wound while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.
Terry walked over to where Donna lay face down on the floor, blood oozing out of her chest. Dani was just sitting up, having been dazed when her head hit the wall after Donna jumped in front of her. She sat up and turned Donna over and cradled her in her arms; her life ebbing away.
“Stay with me…Donna…don’t you dare….Jeannie can wait… she’ll be there when you get there, but not now. Hang in there…Stay with me. Dear God, don’t let her die.”
And Terry was crying, afraid that his best friend was dying, and he had reason to be fearful. Federal Marshal Dani Liu held Donna while Terry used his shirt to stop the blood. Donna looked up at Terry and gasped,
“Terry…sorry…let you down…should have seen it….”
“Don’t talk…it’s going to be okay.” Terry made a promise to Donna almost exactly like she had made to Rickie; improbable, but somehow he knew she’d be alright. Dani was sobbing at that point, uncharacteristic for her, but she was afraid that the only person she had ever loved was dying and she never got the chance to tell her.
The ambulance finally came and the EMT’s worked on Rickie and Donna while wheeling them to the ambulance. It sped off as the second set of EMT’s saw to Alice’s cut and Dani’s concussion.
Terry stood in the doorway of the kitchen as the ambulance pulled away. Years of suppressed grief over his sister’s death burst through the dam he’d built, aided by the fear of losing his best friend and…yes, his new sister. He handed his gun to Reilly and sat down on a chair by the back door and wept bitter tears.
Kindred Hospital, Philadelphia…
Two figures sat up in bed, alert and looking fairly healthy for the first time in days. Both of them had tubes coming out of arms and tubes going into noses and such, but the color in their faces had changed from deathly pall to a fairly healthy pink. Electric sounds beeped from small monitors and machines, testifying that Donna Carter and Rickie Olerud were very much alive.
Dani looked at Rickie, trying to break the news gently, but there was no way. She just started talking.
“Danvers was convinced that there was some sort of key to money. He had killed your birth father in a hit and run just after you turned twelve. Your mother worked as a bookkeeper for Bruschia, and he figured if he could get into her good graces, he’d be able to access Bruschia’s accounts.
He never realized that Bruschia had a fail-safe built into his accounting system and none of his hired help had any idea of his wealth or where he got it from. Your mother was innocent as a babe and believed Danvers wanted to marry her and adopt you. Bruschia’s secretary was friends with your mom and tried to warn her, but by then he was beating her every night.” Dani did not feel the need to go over what Danvers had done to Rickie. Nor what the Feds discovered on Danver's laptop when the searched his car.Like Bruschia said, wicked.
Reilly took up the story. Donna looked around, and saw that Terry wasn’t in the room. He hadn’t visited at all, and she wondered if their partnership was finally over. Reilly began,
“Danvers kept talking to you about a key…that your mother had mentioned it just before he…just before she died. We wondered about that until Terry reminded me of what Bruschia had said at the jail. He said, “I’m not the one you’re looking for. I’m not the key.”
It dawned on Terry that it wasn’t a key to a lock or a closet or locker. Your mother’s last words were her way of telling him about the key to his life…She was telling him about God…with her final breath, she blessed the man who abused her and her son. She blessed her killer.”
Reilly got choked up realizing the impact of what he’d just said. He and Terry talked about it the other day and only now did it have any meaning to him. He had just killed a man, to save a life, of course, but he was overwhelmed with guilt. Terry, never really religious, convinced him that there was forgiveness. If He could offer forgiveness through Inga Olerud, then surely there was enough to go around for him and Reilly.
“Interestingly enough, there was some money; your mother had taken out an insurance policy on her life just before…well, we looked into it, and you, young man…young lady…” Kevin was getting as confused as you might expect, since Rickie wore a very lovely wine colored nightgown and matching robe, and Alice had done her makeup for the first time in days.
“It’s payable to Karl Richard Olerud, that’s you, sweetheart,” Dani said with a smile. “Payable to the tune of two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Alice smiled sweetly, trying not to cry, but she did nonetheless. Rickie and his mother had gone through hell. Rickie emerged intact, knowing that God loved him. And Inga only stopped in hell briefly on her way to meet her savior in heaven,and was likely smiling down at her daughter.
There’s a scene at the end of Return of the King where Frodo awakens in a nice bed and one by one his friends call upon him and greet him with gladness over his safe return. But at the end of the scene, he looks past his friends and sees Sam standing in the doorway with a sheepish but knowing look on his face; they’ve shared something that none of the others would understand. Donna looked up, disappointed until she spied Terry Manahan standing in the doorway of the unit, his hands holding a card and flowers.
He slowly walked over to Donna’s bedside and handed her a card. Instead of his handwriting, it was addressed to Detective Donna Carter by the Chief. She opened it up and saw that it was a get well card signed by most if not all of her colleagues along with more than several apologies.
And Terry held a small box in his hand. He opened it up to reveal a medal, the Award of Valor. He took it out of the box and pinned it on her gown. Both of them started to cry; relief, sadness, joy, so many different emotions. And Terry pulled back at looked Donna in the eye.
“I’m taking a desk job. I'm getting too old for this; I just can’t do this anymore. And Dougherty thinks you ought to re-think your own career. You fucked up,kiddo...You didn't draw your own weapon. Not good, partner, even if you did help save a life. Dougherty's looking the other way on this one, but even I know you just don't have it in you, either.
The Victims Assistance Program at SVU is looking for another liaison, and he's already filling out the paperwork. Still up to you, but think about this." He paused and grabbed Donna's hand, patting it...gently, like a parent might do for a child who struck out to end the game.
"I saw you with Rickie at the house the other day; you're a natural. Maybe you should think about how much more help you could provide if you were to work with victims instead of chasing perps?"
Donna couldn't argue with Terry; he was right. Things turned out okay, but could have gone south real quick if Reilly and Terry hadn't shown up when they did. More than just her appearance and apparel had changed in the last year, and she didn't have the heart for it anymore. It wasn't about strength and certainly not about courage, but about who she had become,
Terry looked at Donna and smiled a smile that she hadn’t seen in quite some time; something that she sorely missed and feared would never see again. The smile said "we're best buddies; pals till the end; friends.
But then he did something that Donna hadn’t expected, and frankly, Terry hadn’t planned either. He leaned over and kissed Donna on the cheek, kissing away her tears the way a father or a big brother might do. He stood back up and squeezed Donna’s hand one last time before walking out of the unit.
One by one everyone left, Alice kissed Rickie and said her goodbyes, leaving Rickie to fall back into a well deserved nap. Dani Liu stood by Donna’s bed side. She held Donna’s hand, caressing her fingers with her own. Tears filled her eyes. She of course owed Donna her life, which almost came at the expense of Donna’s and likely at the expense of her career. Dani had been called back to the Philly office and placed on desk duty while they reviewed her actions. Things didn't look too good for her career, at least in the field, but she still had a job. It was okay; at least it would be eventually.
She looked at Donna with amazement; how in such a short time they had made a connection; it was more than just a brief professional encounter or even a nice new friendship. She owed Donna her life even more for the love that they now shared.
Perhaps soon-to-be-ex Marshal Dani Lieu looked at Donna and knew that no matter what happened from then on, everything would be alright. She leaned over and kissed Donna. Donna returned the favor and kissed back, the first time "Donna" had ever kissed anyone. It was warm; it was promising, and it was beautiful.
To be concluded in Defender - Book Two Defender's Dream
Lascia ch'io pianga
Composed by Georg Fredrik Handel
From the Opera Rinaldo
As performed by Celtic Woman
Comments
This was a really enjoyable
This was a really enjoyable story to read. Thank you for posting. While it's definitely sad at parts, I enjoy how you can always tell that it gets better with your writing.
I Stayed Up All Night
Reading this....it is so good.
A beautiful double romance!
Ahhh...
I remember this tale from the first time around. It is so much a better read now that Drea has posted it as one. I am seriously looking forward to Book II!!! Thank you sweetie...!!! ;)
Only Another...
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrat
Derp...again...