Finding My Femininity A Journey of Self Discovery and Love
- 1 year ago
- 37
- 0
Sorrel’s Long Journey To Love Ch. 06 free porn video
Chapter Six
Breakthrough!
It was close to 1:00 in the morning, the same evening. It was late. Everyone was tired, but no one seemed ready to go to bed. Mary, Fletcher and Sorrel were all sitting in the living room. The television was on, but there wasn’t much to watch, even with satellite TV. Fletcher had a pretty good home library, but as yet Sorrel knew nothing about it, and Fletcher was more interested in trying to unravel some of the mystery about Sorrel than in showing her his collection.
Mary was the one who broke the ice, ‘Sorrel, we all know basically what’s brought you to your present predicament, but I can’t for the life of me fathom exactly what happened. Your guilt or innocence notwithstanding, what led you to want to leave your children? I know it’s none of my business, but it would sure help me clean up some impressions I have.’
Sorrel, though dreadfully tired was still alert enough to be on guard, ‘There’s really nothing to tell. I had two children. They were babies, and I wasn’t a good mother.’
Fletcher, tired himself, interjected, ‘How could you not be a good mother?’
Sorrel answered, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Mary was the only person rested enough to think clearly, walked over and sat down beside Sorrel on the love seat, ‘We don’t want to judge you Sorrel. We just want to understand.’
Sorrel answered, ‘Look I just don’t want to talk about it. OK?’
Fletcher wasn’t going to let it go, ‘Well what happened? Were you abusive? Did you beat them? Did you like lock them in a closet or something? Did you hit on them?’
Sorrel looked across the room at him, for a second both Mary and Fletcher could see a glimmer of real anger, ‘No. I never hit either of them. I wouldn’t, couldn’t do anything like that. Look, like I said. I was just a bad mother. I don’t want to talk about it!’
Mary still did, ‘Were you neglectful?’
Sorrel answered, ‘No I wasn’t neglectful. Now let it go.’
Mary kept at it, ‘Did you love them?’
Sorrel, ‘Of course I loved them. I still love them.’ Her voice was rising. ‘I’ll always love them. They’re my children.’ her voice settling again, ‘I love them. Now leave me alone.’
Fletcher pried in a little more, ‘It doesn’t sound right. You loved them. You weren’t hurting them, and you didn’t neglect them, but you left them.’
Sorrel squirmed, ‘A lot of things don’t make sense. Can’t we just give it a break?’
Mary put her arm around the woman and pulled her over, ‘Help us Sorrel. We want to make some sense of this.’
Sorrel sat stiffly, hard as stone. She wanted to say something, ‘No.’ Her composure was starting to crumble, ‘I.’ She was crumbling. She burst into tears. Her whole body just collapsed. She became a quivering listless mass, a helpless, hopeless soluble heap of jelly, ‘It was a mistake. I was wrong. I thought I knew. I thought I had it figured out.’
She couldn’t stop crying, ‘It all turned out wrong. I just wish. I just am so sorry.’ She just completely fell to pieces right there in front of both of them, ‘You don’t understand. I thought I was right. I had it figured out. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ That was all she seemed to be able to say.
Mary was hugging her tightly. She took her left hand and brushed her tear stained face. Then she took both of her own hands and used them to cup her face. ‘You didn’t desert your children. You didn’t abandon them. Your husband ran away. You needed a plan. You had a plan. You’d let your sister be a temporary caregiver while you got your life together. You’d make something of yourself, and then go back and get them.’
She held Sorrel’s face in her hands, and wouldn’t let go. Sorrel couldn’t turn away. She wanted to, but the older woman wouldn’t let her.
Mary went on, ‘You would become a big success, then you’d ride back like a queen on a great white stallion and give them everything you never got. We know all about you Sorrel. We know all about your childhood. You were going to make things different, perfect. Your children were going to be fabulously happy.’
‘Your sister couldn’t have children. She’d be the caregiver while you went to college and started a career. You got the chance through the very company you’ve been accused of robbing. You won a scholarship, and with you’re IQ and your determination you knew you would make it. It just took a lot of hard work, something you’d been accustomed to all your life.’
Sorrel, between the sobbing and ululation collapsed to the floor. Her knees on the carpet, she knelt with her head in Mary’s lap. Her whole body shook. The grief, the remorse, the brokenhearted anguish, the years of hiding from the truth was flooding out. The room was inundated with forlorn heartsick grief. The woman’s hurt and pain was palpable.
Fletcher was exhausted. It was becoming more than he could bear, but he stayed in his seat. He didn’t dare get up or move. He couldn’t. He watched as he saw Sorrel unravel like a broken toy. What must have been years of suppressed regret and repressed self-loathing was flooding the room in an irresistible deluge.
Mary kept talking, ‘You went to school. You aced every class. You were first on every test, you’re every term paper was better than any other student’s. Yours was a perfect 4.00 GPA. You were Magma cum Laude. You had to be. You were top seeded in the company that gave you the scholarship. On the fast track to the top job, positions of leadership, respect, and responsibility were waiting.’
Mary enunciated the woman’s anguish, ‘It was all yours, but something, or someone, or two someone’s, got left behind. You planned to go back.’
Mary kept speaking, pushing with a heartfelt vehemence that was even tearing at Fletcher as he sat across the room, ‘You wanted to go back. You meant to go back, but what if they didn’t know you. What if they didn’t remember?’
‘Your sister didn’t want you back. Your sister didn’t want them to remember. You’d worked, studied, crammed, and fought. You’d risen to the pinnacle, and it all turned to just so much sand. It meant nothing. You couldn’t go back.’
‘You couldn’t claim the prize, your heart’s desire. You were afraid. You were afraid they wouldn’t love you. They wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t want their mother, their mommy, and then there was the picnic. Then, even the work, the career was gone. All that was left was to protect the children, but protect them from what? You were going to protect your children from their own mother.’
Sorrel was hugging Mary’s legs. She crumpled to the floor, head down, arms hugging knees in complete utter defeat. She’d stopped crying. Now it was just a steady slow weeping. She mumbled into the floor. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry.’
Fletcher had heard enough. He leaped across the room. In one swift gallant gesture he scooped her from the floor. He crushed her to him. He thought, so this was the terrible secret, the awful monster hidden behind this human working machine.
He grabbed her by her shoulders, ‘You’re not sorry. You can’t be sorry. I won’t allow it. It’s all, all right now. I’m going to fix it. Your children are still young. They’ll understand. Even if they don’t right away, they’ll learn to understand.’
He proclaimed, ‘I’m Fletcher Hanson. I’m going to fix this!’ He said it with authority, and he meant it. He could save this girl. He’d win this time! This was his job.’
This was Fletcher at his finest, the hero, white knight, man of the hour coming to the rescue. There would be no death bed tears this time. Here was a damsel in distress he could save. He’d make everything right. As far as he was concerned the problem was solved. He would fix it. He could fix it this time.
Mary interrupted him, ‘Fletcher, I love you. You’re forgetting one thing. She’s been caught trying to swindle the company you own. There’s a sword hanging over her head that can’t be easily r
emoved. Let’s back off. Let’s think this thing through.’
Fletcher had had his moment of nobility. Now reality was setting in. He looked at Mary and then at Sorrel. At Mary he said, ‘She didn’t do it. She’s been framed. He looked at Sorrel, ‘You’re innocent. You’ve been framed.’
Mary looked down at Sorrel as she sat weeping, her head in Mary’s lap. ‘I’m still not satisfied.’
Fletcher bounced up and down, ‘What do you mean you’re not satisfied?’
Mary looked down at the desolate woman whose head lay on her lap. She reached and pulled Sorrel’s face up so she could look at her, ‘You’re lying about something.’
Fletcher yelped, ‘What?’
Sorrel looked at Mary, but she couldn’t hold her gaze, ‘I don’t know what you mean?’
Mary took the woman’s chin and held it in her hand so she wouldn’t be able to look away. ‘Yes you do.’
Sorrel tried to turn her head but Mary held on tightly. Sorrel whispered, ‘I don’t know what else to say.’
Mary knew what to say, ‘Take off your sweater and your bra.’
Fletcher didn’t know what was traveling through Mary’s mind, but he held his tongue.
Sorrel made an effort to pull away, but Mary had her with both hands now, ‘I’m tired. I need to go to bed.’
Mary interrupted, ‘First, show us your breasts.’
Sorrel had the look of a terrified child, ‘No!’
Mary wasn’t pulling any punches, ‘You take your clothes off yourself, or I’ll have Fletcher strip you.’ She looked over at Fletcher, ‘Come here.’
Fletcher was bewildered. ‘Mary let her alone. She’s been through enough.’
Mary looked back at Sorrel, ‘You know we’re not going to hurt you, but let’s get this finished, now, tonight.’
Sorrel leaned back and slowly slipped her sweater off her shoulders. Both Mary and Fletcher could see the small bruises that had been left by Flail.
Mary said, ‘Now the bra.’
Sorrel leaned back, cringing, ‘No.’
Mary was sharp, ‘Yes.’
Sorrel undid her bra and let it fall around her waist, but she held her hands tightly over her breasts.
Reaching down and grasping Sorrel’s wrists, ‘Take your hands away,’ Mary gently but firmly pulled the woman’s hands from her chest.
Fletcher got an eyeful. My God, he thought, she’s beautiful. Her breasts were almost without blemish, only some dark circular marks around her aureoles, ‘What are those circles?’
Mary put the palm of her right hand on Sorrel’s left cheek. She touched her left breast where the largest discolorations could be seen, ‘Who did this to you?’
Sorrel started crying again.
Mary stroked her head, ‘What else did he do?’
Fletcher was even more confused than before. ‘What am I missing here?’
Very softly and gently to Sorrel Mary spoke, ‘You didn’t run away from the responsibility of raising two children. You didn’t leave them with your sister to pursue a career. Though you believe you did, you didn’t abandon anybody.’
Fletcher was starting to put the pieces together, ‘Those are burn marks aren’t they? Who burned you Sorrel?’
A tearful Sorrel answered, ‘He used to leave me tied me up in the bedroom while he watched television. When the children cried he’d come in and beat me. He smoked, and he liked to put his cigarettes out on me. While the children cried, I’d beg him to let me go to them, but he would laugh. It was only after he left to go to the tavern that he’d untie me so I could get to the babies.
Mary interjected, ‘He, being your husband.’
Through the tears Sorrel blurted out, ‘Clara isn’t my sister! She’s his sister! She was as mean to me as he was, but she loved my children. She’d say I wasn’t fit to have children, that she should have them. He agreed. He didn’t run off. He’s still there. If I go back he’ll kill me.’
Fletcher had been confused, unbelieving, now he was stone cold sober, ‘You ran away to escape a slimy wife beating bastard, a monster. A man, that’s an oxymoron, and man who would beat his wife and let his infant children cry.’
He walked over and covered her up with her sweater, ‘No wonder you don’t especially want to have anything to do with men. Look what one man did to you.’
He wanted to do something good, something protective. He tried to cradle her in his arms, but she pushed him away, ‘We’re not all like that Sorrel. I’m not like that.’
Mary nodded her head, ‘You don’t need to be afraid of Fletcher.’
Mary was still deeply troubled. She directed her comments at Fletcher, ‘We have a lot to do. We have to untangle the web that’s snared our girl,’ She patted Sorrel’s head, ‘I didn’t mean that in a bad way.’
Sorrel looked at Mary through the tears. She didn’t know what she meant. She didn’t know what to think.
Mary turned to Fletcher, ‘We have to keep her away from harm. That means your sister in law, Ms. Henderson, and some of the others.’
Mary lifted Sorrel’s head. She wrapped her in her arms, ‘We’re at the bottom right now. This is the worst. Let’s get you to bed. We’ll start tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll start afresh.’
Fletcher was headed into the kitchen. He needed another cup of coffee. It had been a long night, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.
Mary, with her arm around Sorrel helped her upstairs to her rooms. She got her out of Fletcher’s sweater, and into some pajamas. She tucked her in, ‘There see. You’re not alone now. You’ll never be alone again. We’re going to see this thing through together.’
Mary got up to go, then at the last moment she turned back. ‘I know you’re innocent. I think I figured it out before you got here, but one thing.’ She paused and then continued, ‘Just in case you aren’t, keep it to yourself.’
Sorrel looked at Mary. The tears were gone, only weariness and fatigue remained, ‘I’m innocent Mary. I won’t let you down.’
Mary turned out the light. She needed to talk to Fletcher.
A Brief Reprise:
Sorrel had been a rising star in a private corporation whose successes had largely come through secret contracts with the Federal government. However, her value collapsed when an investigation revealed fraud and what amounted to corporate treason. The company, owing to the delicacy of its contracts couldn’t allow her misdeeds to leak beyond the most immediate membership in the company’s hierarchy. Her deeds had to be sequestered, and she had to be destroyed.
Fortunately for the company Sorrel’s past left an opening for just the kind of maneuvering they needed. Sorrel had apparently abandoned two young children in her quest for financial success. Using this knowledge the two owners of the company, founder Warren, and younger brother Fletcher, were in a position to suppress any potential embarrassment and control their errant employee. However, they believed Sorrel would always remain a potential problem. They, therefore, determined to remove her in some permanent, but nonlethal, way.
Sorrel’s removal was to be accomplished first through blackmail to hold her temporarily in place while they orchestrated a scheme to bring about her total destruction. The method they contrived to achieve this destruction was so fiendish that it had to be hidden from all other members of the company’s inner circle except the innermost three. Only Warren, Fletcher, and the company comptroller and long time loyalist Florence knew of the way Sorrel was to be forever taken out of circulation.
Sorrel’s misdeeds were exposed at a luncheon, and from there she was to be kept on ice at Fletcher’s until the ‘final solution’ was initiated. However, unexpected complications emerged.
The plan for Sorrel’s demise was a simple but horrible one. At first Fletcher was all for it, but he had second thoughts when he considered the possibility, no matter how remote, that the method of her disappearance might leak out. He had children, particularly an impressionable young daughter. He realized the plan they had for Sorrel was so monstrous,
so savage, his children would never accept it. Then again there was the issue of Sorrel herself. Prior to Sorrel’s exposure, Fletcher had never had direct contact with the woman. Sure he’d met her from to time at the office, but her areas of focus weren’t his, and he’d been grappling with issues not related to work that had precluded any interest in any other people. However, once the woman he was expected to destroy started to become a real person he began to have doubts.
Fletcher came to the realization that Sorrel was perhaps the victim of somebody else’s machinations. Fletcher, originally Sorrel’s engine of destruction, began to metamorphose into Fletcher the heroic protector of a guile free woman wrongfully accused.
Fletcher’s redefined role brought with it more complications. Fletcher was a widower, he was lonely, and he had three children all in need of intangibles he couldn’t provide. Sorrel was a single mom with two children she may have been driven to abandon. They all needed someone.
Sorrel was warm, human, and personable. She exuded a natural innocence that contradicted her dossier. All the people around him, the people he loved and respected, his life long friends, all found the same inner beauty he himself saw in Sorrel. Personal feelings began to interfere with corporate needs.
Sorrel’s situation was no less complicated. She had been a dedicated employee, virtually an automaton devoted to the progress of a company that had offered her a chance at professional and pecuniary accomplishment. Yet she had two children she’d been forced to surrender to an abusive husband and malicious sister-in-law.
She loved her children but feared returning to claim them. They were her treasures, but would they accept her? Would they believe her explanations, or would they only reject and hate her. Afraid of rejection, paralyzed by fear, desolate and alone she’d opted to do nothing.
Then catastrophe struck! She was accused and condemned of things she knew she didn’t do. No one believed her. Then she found herself controlled by the most malevolent person the company could produce, Fletcher the younger brother. Reputed to be a vicious man, from the start he seemed to live up to his reputation, but within days she began to see different aspects of the man she saw as a monster. No one on the outside knew he had a family, children, close cherished friends, and he had a well hidden sensitive, even vulnerable, side. And she saw he was a widower, and he was desperately lonely
Sorrel’s world had imploded. The agent of her doom was a man who filled her with both fear but compassion too, totally contradictory emotions. He needed warmth and understanding, but she needed vindication. How could she temper her emotional inclinations, overcome her irrational fears, and reestablish her career, her personal imperatives, and revalidate her life?
Resuming Sorrel’s Story:
A Shopping Trip:
Shortly after 11:00 a.m. Mary, some time house keeper all the time family friend, had accomplished everything she planned to do. Fletcher had left the house to go in to the office for the afternoon so she was answerable to no job or person. She called out to Sorrel who was sitting by the pond. She presumed Sorrel was still trying to find Rupert, a snapping turtle Fletcher claimed lurked in the murky water.
Mary doubted if there ever really was a Rupert, believing he was only a figment of Fletcher’s imagination, a thought trick he had used to keep the children from getting in the water when they were little. Since Sorrel didn’t answer, Mary walked outside.
Sorrel looked up, ‘You know Mary. I don’t really believe there is nor ever was a snapping turtle in this pond.’
Mary cast Sorrel an overly too serious look, ‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen one, but both Fletcher and Byron swear there’s a big one in there.’
Sorrel looked askance at the pond and then she looked back at Mary. ‘You think there’s one in there?’
Studiously looking at the still waters Mary reflectively responded, ‘Can’t say for sure, but I know you’ll never catch me dangling my toes in that water.’
Sorrel looked back at the pond, ‘The still waters of this little pond have a calming affect on me. I get a feeling of serenity here I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m glad Fletcher let me help him plant those flowers. I grew up in the city, in something like a tenement. Flowers were always just out of reach. It was fun getting my hands muddy. Do you now what I mean?’
Yvette
- 23.07.2020
- 31
- 0
