Chapter Fourteen
In the end, it was Debbie who spoke first. "We love you Mommy. We will always love you. It doesn't matter what you decide to do ... we'll love you."
"I know" Ramona sighed. "Will you two do the dishes?" she asked.
They both nodded and, after a warning to be careful with her good china, she went to soak in a hot bath. She always thought better in a hot bath.
Back in the kitchen Robby and Debbie worked on the dishes silently. Seeing their mother in such obvious distress had sobered them. They'd never seen her that distressed, and it impressed on them like nothing else could how serious this was to their mother.
When the last dish had been carefully dried and put away in the china cabinet, Debbie went to her brother for a hug. The hug turned into a kiss and Debbie felt his arousal pushing at her.
She touched his face, and then pushed him away. "If Mom can't do that tonight, then we shouldn't either," she said, drawing on that special secret set of rules that only women have access to.
Robby groaned, but didn't argue. He too had taken long strides toward manhood, and knew that sometimes you just did what the woman wanted, whether you understood it or not.
Instead of chasing their newfound joy, they sat together on the couch and watched TV for a while, just being together. Had you asked them what they were watching they wouldn't have been able to tell you. Like their mother, they were thinking about what life might be like in the Nettleton mansion. Oddly they weren't thinking about the glitter and expensive wood and trimmings. They were both thinking of being able to love each other in those rooms, where their love had initially taken root, and grown and blossomed.
When they heard the bathroom door open and saw their mother in her robe, heading toward her bedroom, they stood and went to their own rooms too, hoping to find sleep. Debbie dropped Robby off at his door, kissing him a long, sensual kiss.
Inside his room, Robby still tasted that kiss. Like any man, when the woman he loves kisses him like that, it gets him going. It was a warm night and he lay down naked on his bed, his erection standing tall. He reached for a tissue and began to stroke his lust away.
Ramona had been able, in the bath, to let her mind wander. She let it go where it wanted to, beginning with memories that were tattered, like a battle flag shot to pieces and torn by the wind. Those were the oldest memories she had; of her mother, and her bedroom, and her dolls. There was no pain in those memories. Then there was the memory of Bobby, pulling her through the darkness of the secret passageway, telling her to be quiet. She shook the screams out of her head and pushed her mind to her mother's face, eyes open and staring. She hadn't understood what was happening then, and only later in life did she learn what that meant. Instead of letting her manufactured memories mar her mother's face, she tried to imagine the eyes looking like they were focused on some far distant place ... a better place ... where there were no screams, ever.
A sudden memory assailed her, un-remembered these long years. She had been at the old woman's house, and had cried that she wanted her dolly. The woman had held her, saying that the dolly was gone, but that she'd get her a new one. That doll was probably still in her room next door. The doll wasn't gone. It had lain there, alone all this time, waiting for Lizzy to come back and hold her again.
She had caught herself half crouching in the bath, unconsciously having started to get up and go get her dolly. The air was cool and she sank back down in the tub. Somehow, knowing that her doll was there was comforting. It would be there tomorrow, and she'd go get it then.
Her mind stayed in the house, in the room where she now believed her doll lay. All she had of that room were good memories. She reflected intentionally on the concept that it wasn't the house that had killed her parents. Men had done that. Greed had done that. The house couldn't stop it from happening. The house had, in fact, protected Bobby and her as they hid in its dark, secret places. Then she thought about what the house looked like now, the last time she'd seen it. It wasn't dark and painful there ... not really. There was pain associated with it, and that pain would never really go away, but the house wasn't responsible for that.
And now, against all odds, Bobby offered her something that, if somehow it worked, would fulfill all her dreams and let her spend the rest of her life sharing that love.
Except that she couldn't believe it would work.
Her own doubts were strong, but her mind flitted back to what her son had said. He had said it would work. Her children, who had been so violently opposed to the man next door, had altered their opinions to the point that they were in favor of this crazy idea.
It suddenly occurred to her that, like she and Bobby, her children had come to love each other in that same house, a love that was obviously enduring and incredibly strong. The parallels were inescapable.
She sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in her fluffy robe. She wanted to hear somebody tell her it would work again. She stood and went towards her son's room.
TBC