Elizabeth Lennox

Intimate Secrets – Introduction

intimate-secrets-small

Walker’s Story….

He wasn’t going to cry, he commanded himself. Lugging his heavy suitcase up the stairs behind the social worker, Walker refused to give in to the tears that were threatening him. Emotions were bad. They were pointless and, even worse, he got slapped across the face or smacked with a leather belt if he showed any emotion. Tears were the worst. He lost meals if he cried. So he’d learned over the past three years to not show any emotion. He was twelve years old now, strong enough to be in control of his emotions.

“You okay?” the social worker said, looking down at Walker a moment before she rang the doorbell.

Walker nodded his head, not allowing himself to even give the woman a reassuring smile. He’d learned not to smile either. That was always a pre-cursor to a slap across the face. His last foster father had assumed that smiles meant the kid was up to no good and a smack was the only way to stop bad acts before they got started. So smacks were liberally given out.

He looked up at the clean, red door in front of him, not sure why he was here. What had he done wrong at the last foster home? This would be his third since he’d lost his parents so many years ago. He only remembered soft hands and lot of hugs when he’d been small. Those had been from his parents and he kept those memories tucked away, hidden but ready to come out when he needed help. They were his secret. He’d never doubted his parents had loved him. They’d said so often enough. He just wished the stupid person hadn’t run into their car, killing them both and leaving him alone in this world.

“Good morning!” a nice looking woman with a flowered apron opened the red door.

“Hi Lenore,” the social worker said then turned to Walker. “This is your newest foster child. His name is Walker Transom and he’s twelve years old.”

The kind looking lady smiled and wiped her hands on that flowered apron. “Come on in! I’m glad you’re here!”

Walker stared up at the woman, wondering what kind of trick she was trying to play. She seemed too friendly, too excited. Something definitely wasn’t right.

The social worker put a hand to Walker’s back, prompting him to walk into the house. Walker went inside, but his eyes were wary, taking everything in. On one side of the light filled entryway was a room filled with formal furniture. On the other side, the room was filled with toys, boxes of blocks, shelves filled with books and even a chalkboard.

Something wasn’t right!

And what in the world was that smell?

Walker heard voices behind him and pretended not to listen. “He’ll be tough,” his social worker was saying. “But he’s very good. He’s not a trouble maker in any way.”

Walker stood up a bit higher with that assessment. But that good feeling melted away when the nice sounding woman said, “Don’t worry about him. We’ll help him along.”

Walker’s stomach quaked with that statement. He knew how most foster parents “helped”. It was usually with the back of their hand or a leather belt.

That wasn’t going to happen! Not again!

“How about some cookies?” the nice lady suggested.

Walker simply stared at the woman, not trusting anything in this house.

“We’d love some,” the social worker said.

The three of them walked to the kitchen, and that’s when Walker recognized that the smell was cookies that were baking. The lady walked to the oven and put on one of those protective mitts. Bending down, she pulled out a tray of cookies that made Walker’s mouth begin to water. He stood back, not wanting to interfere, knowing that the cookies were for the adults.

“How about some milk as well?” the lady suggested.

Walker didn’t reply, but continued to stand in the doorway, watching. Taking it all in. He picked up the details, the smells, the sounds – which was even strange because it was silent except for the smiling woman chatting with the social worker. He didn’t like it. Yelling meant he could tell where people were in the house. He liked knowing where everyone was. It kept him safe. It kept him aware. Silence meant someone could be lurking about.

The lady took down three glasses and three plates, filling them up with three cookies each. When walker looked at the plate, then at the lady, his gut tightened even more. What kind of trick was she pulling? He wasn’t going to trust her. She was trying to trick him into eating the cookies. When the social worker left, the kind looking lady would reveal her true colors and would punish him for eating the cookies.

“I’m not hungry, ma’am,” he said softly, sitting down at the place where the cookies and milk rested. He refused to take the cookies, despite the fact that his mouth was watering and his stomach was aching with hunger. He hadn’t been allowed breakfast that morning. He’d eat his socks before he ate one of those cookies.

Well, maybe not his socks. He only had one pair and he’d been wearing them for three days straight.

“Walker,” the social worker leaned forward, her eyes trying to give him a message, “you’re safe here,” she said softly.

And then she left.

The kind woman smiled when the door was closed and Walker braced for the first slap, ready for it.

“Would you like to see your room?” the kind woman asked.

Walker’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at her. He didn’t say anything, but the lady picked up Walker’s suitcase and started up the stairs. “It’s right this way,” she said.

He looked at the hardwood floors of the stairs and watched warily as the woman carried his almost empty suitcase up the stairs. When she turned the corner, he decided it was safe enough to follow her. Several moments later, he stepped into a room filled with four beds, one on top of the other, each with a light either under the top bunk or attached to the wall. There were four desks and four dressers.

He’d never had a dresser before.

“This one will be your bed,” she said and pushed his suitcase closer to the bed. “Would you mind if we sat down and talked for a few minutes?” she asked.

Walker didn’t bother to respond, but sat down on the hardwood floor.

The woman looked surprised initially, but instead of telling him he was wrong, she sat down beside him.

“I know that you haven’t had a very good life so far. And I’m very sorry for that,” she explained with that pretty voice that he tried not to like. “I just want you to know that we’re very happy that you’re here with us.” She hesitated before going on. “My husband and I…well, we can’t have children.” He heard the sadness in her voice but hardened his heart to the things he was feeling. “We’d already built this house with the intention of having a very large family, but in the end, it just…” she shrugged her shoulders, “well, when we were told that we couldn’t conceive, we thought about adopting. But then my husband heard about the foster children and we decided to take a chance.”

She smiled down at Walker. “We’ve never regretted the decision.” She sighed and looked around. “I hope you will be happy here. We’re thrilled that you might be a part of our family. But if you don’t think that you’re happy here with us, feel free to call your contact at children’s welfare.” She hesitated. “I’m hoping you might give us a chance,” she said softly. “We’re a very nice family. There are three boys already here and four girls who sleep across the hallway. There were four boys but Mike went away to college a couple of months ago so we have this empty bed that we would love to fill. If you would take a chance on us…” she said, leaving the sentence hanging.

She looked around, noting the ceiling and the beds that needed to be straightened. “The only thing I ask is that you look out for the others here in the house. I think foster kids have it harder than most. They get the brunt of the abuse and,” she hesitated again, “some of the kids who are in this house don’t know how to take hugs. If you could…teach them, then perhaps we could be a big, happy family.”

Still no response from Walker. “I’ll let you get settled.” She stood up and started for the door. “Mike might come home for school breaks. But he’ll sleep in the basement. So this bed is yours until you don’t want it any longer. The only rules are fair ones. Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. Don’t steal anything ever. Do your best in school and respect one another.”

Walker thought those were the best rules to live by. He could do that, he thought.

By dinner that night, Walker was still perplexed. Everyone had their chores. Even he did! He’d never had a list of chores. He’d always been smacked around when he hadn’t been able to telepathically know what his foster mother or father wanted him to do. So when he saw his name next to the chore of putting out glasses and silverware for dinner, he did so quickly and with absolute precision.

By the end of the week, he was walking the younger ones to school before he shoved off to his own school, doing extra chores just to keep his place in the foster home. The other foster kids were starting to accept him too. It was thrilling to drop off Jasmine and Laura, the two youngest girls who went to elementary school, because they gave him enthusiastic hugs right before they raced into the school building each morning.

He liked hugs. He liked the girls. Hell, he even liked the guys he shared a room with. They were all nice, none of them really fought except when the girls were in the bathroom too long, but there was even a schedule for that!

And Ms. Beth, the kind lady in charge, as well as Mr. Jim, the father, were really nice. Ms. Beth made cookies every day, so there were always some fresh from the oven when they strolled into the house. They might have to eat oatmeal with raisins each morning for breakfast, and milk was pushed on all of them constantly, but they were good people. He hadn’t been smacked across the face or whipped with a leather belt since he’d walked through their doors.

In a word, he felt like he’d finally found Heaven.

Amy’s Story…..

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Ellen asked. Both Ellen and Amy were laying on their backs, staring up at the sky. It was early summer and school had just been let out for the year. Both girls were enjoying the relaxing day, hiding in Ellen’s tree house away from the eyes of their parents, who would only give them chores.

“I don’t know,” Amy thought, nibbling on one of the tall stalks of grass they’d gathered before climbing the ladder to their hideout. “Probably an astronaut,” she said, thinking about her future as if it were right around the corner instead of years away. At nine years old, it was hard to think that they still had more than a decade left of school.

“I want to be a doctor,” Ellen declared assertively.

Amy laughed. “No way. You passed out last week when Jimmy had a bloody nose during gym class.”

Ellen thought about that. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I’ll be an astronaut too.”

Amy shook her head. “You can’t. You have to come up with your own dream. I picked that one first.”

Ellen rolled over. “Yeah, but you might change your mind.”

Amy rolled over too. “Okay, if I change my mind, then you can be an astronaut. But until then, you can’t choose that. You have to choose something else.”

“Then I choose being a doctor.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “You can’t choose something that you know you can’t do.”

Ellen considered that thoughtfully. “I could be a non-blood doctor,” she said with hope in her eyes.

Amy shook her head. “No such thing. All doctors have to deal with gushing blood every day.”

Ellen supposed that was true. “Then you can’t be an astronaut.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re afraid of heights.”

Amy pondered that problem. “I guess you’re right. But I’d still like to walk on the moon.”

Ellen shook her head again. “They don’t walk on the moon anymore. Astronauts just go into outer space and figure out how to eat and pee.”

Amy didn’t like that idea. “I already know how to eat and pee. Why would I need to re-learn that in outer space?”

Ellen rolled back onto her back, feeling superior now that she knew something Amy didn’t. “Because you have to do it differently in outer space,” she announced as if that were the end of the conversation.

Amy rolled over again, looking back up at the clouds. “Teddy bear,” she announced, pointing to one of the clouds, proclaiming that it was a teddy bear.

“Good one,” Ellen said, smiling at the image of a teddy bear cloud. “Are you going to have kids?” she asked.

Amy shook her head. “No way! My mom was babysitting for Ms. Marshal last weekend. All that baby did was poop and eat. It was disgusting.”

Ellen cringed at the idea. “Where does the poop go?” she asked.

Amy wiggled her body as if she were grossed out by something. “I don’t know and I didn’t ask.”

“Writer,” Ellen said.

Amy looked over at her friend, not sure what they were talking about now. “Writer?”

“Yeah. I think you should be a writer.”

Amy thought about that for a moment. “That sounds interesting. What would I write about?”

Ellen nibbled at her stalk of grass. “I don’t know. Stuff. Writers write about all the stuff that happens around them. So you’ll just have to live somewhere that has lots of stuff happening.”

“Well, lots of things had better happen here, because I’m not leaving the beach.” They lived in sunny Florida and it was only a three block walk to the beach.

“I agree. But lots of stuff does happen here,” Ellen said with finality. “Just last week, Jamie Knudsen learned to surf.”

Amy giggled. “That wasn’t real surfing. He just got a boogie board and rode the waves up to the sand.”

“Yeah, but he looked really hot doing it.”

Amy had to agree with Ellen on that subject. Jamie Knudsen was pretty cute. And he’d worn those new yellow board shorts that looked really good. Yellow was one of her favorite colors now.

“I guess I could be a writer. But I don’t think enough happens here that I could write about. I’d probably have to go somewhere else.”

Ellen shook her head. “No way. You’ll have to do something else because we’re never leaving the beach. There isn’t any other place in the world that is as perfect as this.”

Amy thought about that, wondering if it was true. She’d read several books about other cities and thought they were pretty interesting too. “I don’t know. What about San Francisco? Or Seattle? Those are some pretty cool places. Or Denver?” She rolled over, her eyes lighting up. “Or maybe Paris! Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in Paris?”

Ellen giggled. “Could you imagine Jaime Knudsen’s face if you told him you were going to live in Paris?”

The two girls laughed, rolled their eyes and stared back up at the clouds. “No. I think Florida is really the only place a person should want to live.”

Three Years Later….

Amy slunk down lower in her chair, trying to hide behind Ellen’s poufy hair. “So what do we call this?” Mr. Adams, their biology teacher, called out. This month’s subject was anatomy, and Amy thought the entire body, including the naked male and female pictures up in the front of the class, was embarrassing.

“Right! A penis!”

Ellen shifted lower in her chair as well. “Stop moving,” Amy hissed.

Ellen knew exactly what was going on. “No way. I’m trying to get behind Melissa Oberman’s curls. There is no way I’m going to answer any of Mr. Adams’ questions this month.”

Amy giggled, understanding perfectly. “I’ll bet you can’t name the body part below that thing,” she teased, also unwilling to name the body part Mr. Adams was pointing to at the moment. Better not spoken, she thought.

“Right! The scrotum, inside which are the testicles!” Mr. Adams announced as if the whole class was sitting on the edge of their seats instead of trying to hide behind the person in front of them. Amy had no idea how the kids in the first row could deal with this subject.

“Anyone know how a baby is conceived?” he called out, eager to try and get the kids involved.

Amy stifled another giggle. “I always thought it was the stork,” she whispered jokingly.

“Not the stork!” Mr. Adams exclaimed, almost dancing across the room. Amy came to the conclusion that science and health teachers loved this subject because it was their opportunity to embarrass their students. “It is through intercourse!”

He went on to discuss the various other body parts and Amy breathed a sigh of relief as he finished the class. “Contraception is the next subject,” he called out as the rest of the class jumped out of their seats with the bell ringing. “Read up on the various forms of contraception for tomorrow’s quiz. That’s one subject none of you want to miss!”

Amy and Ellen walked out of the biology room, heads down and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. They all knew about the body parts, but no one spoke about them. There were names for each part, but not the anatomically correct term. And contraception? They were twelve! They didn’t need to know about contraception for years!

Amy and Ellen both walked to English class, both of them saying that they felt a cough coming on that would last for the rest of the month if possible.

Read more about Intimate Secrets, book one in The Love and Danger Series.

Scroll to Top