A Vengeful Heart Sees No Love
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Paul Blaisdell came home to spend his lunch hour with his wife and children. He started doing it again when Peter became a part of the family. He felt it was a way for them to get acquainted and to show how much he cared about the boy.
As Paul waited for Annie to complete the sandwich she was making, the telephone rang.
"Hello," Paul answered. "Oh, hello Mrs. Carson. Yes, we do. He did what? Are you sure? I'll talk to him, see what's going on. Okay, thank you." He hung up the phone and sighed.
"Paul, what is it?" Annie could hear in her husband's voice that something was amiss.
"That was Mrs. Carson. She said that Peter beat up her son for no reason. Could you please send Peter to my study. I'll have my sandwich in there."
Annie handed the plate to her husband and listened to his footsteps as he crossed the wooden floor through the dining area. There was weariness in those steps. Something else was going on that she was not privy to, and it would seem that it involved Peter.
Paul closed the door to his study and sat down at his desk. He placed the plate on a stack of growing files that he had taken from the office to study. His police captain was insistent about getting these particular cases closed. They had been on the books for a long time, some of them for several months. Paul was working on his third bite of sandwich when there was a gentle knock on his study door.
"Come in."
Peter poked his head into the study. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, come in Peter and shut the door."
Peter came in but continued to stand by the doorway as if hoping for an escape.
"Please sit down."
"Am I in trouble?" Peter asked as he took a seat next to Paul's desk.
"Well that depends," Paul took another bite from his sandwich and waited until that bite had been completed to start their conversation. "I got a phone call from Mrs. Carson. She said that her son had told her that you beat him up for no reason. I want to hear the story from you."
Peter chewed the bottom of his lip. "I . . . I . . ."
"Go on."
"This kid came over and started hassling me. He said some things that made me mad."
"What kinds of things?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Peter stated and slumped down in the large chair.
"Peter, in this household we keep no secrets," Paul stated. "And when someone is in trouble we talk over what it is and try to reach a solution. You were accused of beating up a neighbor kid for no reason. I am only trying to establish the facts before judgment can be passed. If you will not answer to me, you're going to have to answer to someone."
"My father wouldn't force me into talking if I didn't want to."
"Your father is not here Peter, I am. That life that you had, whatever it was like, is gone. You need to face up to that fact."
Peter turned his head away, trying to hide the anger and tears that threatened to spill.
"Peter talk to me, not as a foster father, but as a friend."
Peter continued to hold his tongue and remain silent.
"Very well," Paul stated. "Since you will not tell me what happened, I'm going to have to pass judgment from only hearing one side of the story. Maybe it will teach you that justice comes at a price. You are grounded for one week. No television . . . "
"Paul, that's not fair . . ."
"I'm not through. You are to stay in the yard. If you have to go somewhere, you get permission first and you go where you say you are going. Unless you are willing to tell me what happened, the punishment stands and you will accompany your mother and I over to Mrs. Carson's tonight to apologize."
"But I didn't . . ."
"Don't tell me you did nothing wrong in this. Obviously something happened. But until you are willing to tell me, you are grounded. And if I find out you didn't follow any of the rules, the punishment will be extended another week."
"Yes, sir," Peter said defeated. "Can I go now?"
"You may go."
Paul watched his foster son leave the study. He knew Peter was holding back on what had happened. The comment about his father not forcing him to talk when he didn't want to was a deliberate jibe to remind him that he was not Peter's father. Why Peter would use such tactics was beyond him. It was obvious the boy was putting up barriers, not letting anyone in, including Annie. Granted it had only been a week since Peter had come to live with them, but it already felt like an eternity had gone by.
The social worker had warned that Peter was going to be a difficult child. He had been sent to Pineridge for fighting and refusing to explain why. Had they tried to force the issue as well? What would cause a child like Peter Caine to have so much anger at the world? Though there were small notes that suggested that Peter wasn't really a bad kid, other notes hinted that there was some deep-rooted trauma that only Peter could reveal. All that had been reported in Peter's file was that his mother died when he was two, and his father was raising him under some unusual circumstances, the file would not reveal anything more. How Peter came to be orphaned was still unclear. All that had been written in the file was that his father had died in a fire when Peter was nearly thirteen. When Paul asked about the fire, the social worker indicated that the file had been sealed and would not reveal anything more.
Paul turned toward the door that his foster son had exited.
"Peter, I know something happened in your past that is causing you anguish. I hope some day, you'll trust us enough to tell us what that is."
End of Part 2
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2006.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from
the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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