Chapter 1

People slowly filtered out after that -- or some did, anyway. Damian didn't, for instance; he went upstairs with Candace and they ended up sleeping together. Even Candace couldn't explain why she was turning for comfort to a sixteen-year-old.

Lon called Eleanor and asked if Sally could spend the night; Eleanor dropped THAT hot rock in George's lap -- or she tried to. "It's your daughter and her boyfriend," she announced, bringing the phone into the den.

"Yes?" George eyed her.

"They want Sally to spend the night."

George grimaced. "We're definitely closing the barn door after the horse, right?"

"Yes." Eleanor nodded tightly.

George rubbed his face. "There's another side to this, though." He took the phone. "Let me talk to your mother," he instructed Lon.

"Yessir." He carried the house phone to his mother's bedroom and knocked on the door. "Mama, Mr. Harkness wants to talk to you!"

"What the fuck?" Damian grunted.

"Sally's father," Candace amplified. "Shhh!" She held her finger to her lips, adding "Please? For Lon?" Damian nodded; this wasn't manipulation. "Come on in, Hon!" Candace called.

Lon entered. "What's up?" Candace asked.

Lon shrugged. "I called to ask if Sally could stay; he wants to talk to you."

"Okay." Candace took the phone. "Hello?"

"Mrs., uh, Carpenter?" George began. In the interim, he'd put the phone on speaker so Eleanor could listen in.

"Yes."

"Your son wants to keep our daughter over there tonight."

"Yes, he told me." Candace agreed.

"Do you think that's proper?" George asked.

Candace covered the mouthpiece. "Does he know?" she asked Sally.

"Mom told him -- she had to have, or it wouldn't be him on the phone!" Sally replied.

Candace blew out a breath. "I think we're beyond keeping up appearances, don't you?" she replied.

"Then you know," George prompted.

"Yes," Candace agreed. "Given the fact that we REALLY weren't going to stop them, and the fact that I think Sally is a wonderful girl, I'm more or less resigned to the inevitable." Lon rolled his eyes, thinking, 'Parents...' Sally grinned and swatted him on the shoulder.

"Do you think they ought to be...?" George asked.

"Are you under the impression that we REALLY have any control over that?" Candace countered. "The best we can do is drive it underground -- or perhaps that's the WORST we can do... Frankly, I'd prefer to know what is happening and remind them about the consequences occasionally, rather than be blind and have no input..."

"I see your point," George replied. "They're so young, though..."

"For marriage? Yes," Candace replied. "But in some cultures and in some eras, Sally would have children already. Do I want to see that? No. Both of them need to finish school -- and college, for that matter. But in an age when inner city middle schools have day care for twelve-year-old mothers, they've already exercised restraint."

Sally nearly collapsed in shock; Dad was going to have a fit! She covered her face with her hands. Eleanor collapsed into a chair, gasping, "Oh, my!"

George blinked at the receiver several times, before muttering, "Erhm, yes... Perhaps."

Candace sighed. "The bottom line is that no one can guarantee that they are a match made in Heaven and that we'll all be sitting around bouncing our grandchildren from them on our knees in a few years -- but that isn't necessarily a function of their ages. Current divorce statistics indicate that it really doesn't matter how old you are, you can still make mistakes, where relationships are concerned. The future is always unclear -- but right now, they are together, and they appear to be good for one another. We can support them, or we can get in their way -- and maybe drive them to make ill-considered decisions. I know which side of the line I prefer to be on..."

Eleanor took the ball, "Please have Lon bring her home in time to get ready for church -- say, nine-thirty?"

"Certainly," Candace agreed.

"Thank you. Goodbye!" Eleanor hung up.

"They want you home in time for church," Candace related, handing back the phone.

"Church?" Sally blinked. "We go to church about four times a year..."

Candace's eyes smiled. "I guess it's the price you pay... They're apparently hoping to instill morals in you at this late date..."

Sally shook her head; Lon took her hand and drew her through the door. "Good night, Mama," he called as he closed it.

"Where in the Hell have you two been?" Fred Carter grunted as Louise came through the door, Terence behind her. "An' where is Damian?"

"At a party, with some of the boys' school acquaintances and their mothers," Louise replied, unperturbed. "Damian is staying over at a friend's house."

"This that bunch was over here last week?" Fred asked suspiciously.

"They were there," Louise replied indifferently, "but it was at another woman's home."

"How many men was there?" Fred queried.

"None, over the age of eighteen," Louise replied. "Just the boys and a couple of girls their age -- and three or four of us old biddies, keeping them from having any fun..."

Fred grunted. His silly bitch of a wife wasn't showing a whole lot of respect for the man of the family... It wasn't blatant, but she was acting like she didn't have to answer to him. He eyed his eldest son, nodding at the door, "Hit the bricks, Boy -- I want to have a talk with your mama."

Disgruntled, Terence turned and left the room. Maybe Mama was right; maybe Pa wasn't worth defending...

"Y'all can't party around here?" Fred grunted, rounding on Louise.

"Ain't no parties going on around here," Louise replied.

"When did you get uppity? How many black folk was there?"

"Counting us?" Louise replied archly, "Three."

"Well, la tee da!" Fred sneered. "Ain't you hot?"

"Well, you wouldn't know, would you?" Louise taunted. Having had her share of dick that afternoon, she was feeling feisty.

"Stupid bitch that throws kids by men other than her husband don't deserve any dick from him!" Fred rasped.

"Well, you can keep it to yourself -- or spread it around however you have been. Don't come looking to ME for pussy!" Louise retorted.

"Fuckin' thing's probably got cobwebs!" Fred sneered. "Spiders!"

"You'll never know!" Louise replied frostily.

Fred's eyes narrowed. "You fuckin' around?"

"Are you?" Louise countered.

"THAT's none of your goddamned business!" Fred grated.

"And the same applies to you!"

"You fuckin' bitch!" Fred grabbed Louise by the upper arm, raising his other hand to slap her.

"You do that, and I'm calling the cops!" Louise screeched. "And THEN I'm calling a lawyer! I've been trying to keep things in hand until the boys go off to college, but we're DONE! You hit me, and we're REALLY done!"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Fred sneered. "If I hit the bricks, you'll end up livin' on your nurse's pay, 'cause you won't get SHIT from me!"

"Guess again, shithead!" Louise retorted. "You fuck with me and I'll bring out the big guns -- and when I do THAT, you'll not only jump when I yell frog -- you'll ask how high!"

Fred's eyes narrowed. What the fuck? Louise was entirely too fucking confident... "You ain't got shit on me..."

"You'd be surprised, Lover Boy! You'd be surprised!" Louise taunted.

Fred's face went grey. "What?"

Louise backtracked. "You don't think I don't know you've been fucking around, do you?"

Fred rallied; apparently, what she'd called him had been just luck... "Prove it!"

"Not a problem!" Louise retorted.

Fred sneered, unintimidated. "Even if you had pictures of me fucking some bitch -- and you don't -- that ain't about shit..."

Louise just smiled. "Try me."

Fred waved it off. "If you really had it, you'd flaunt it." But he wasn't all that certain, any more... 'Fuckin' bitch,' he thought, 'Even if she HAS got pictures, the boyz will just laugh...'

Terence was standing in the next room with the TV remote in his hand, listening. The TV was on, but muted; he would kick in the sound when they were done... He got an earful; Pa admitted that he was chasing strange, and even though Mama didn't drop the bomb on him, she didn't back down. If Pa had a brain in his head, he'd realize... In any case, shit wasn't going to hold together for long -- THAT was pretty clear. And Pa obviously didn't give a shit, either. Fred lost what was probably his last ally in that moment, as Terence realized that his father's priorities didn't include his family... A step sounded behind him, and Terence kicked in the sound, covering it by changing channels.

A hand descended on his shoulder, "So, Boy, how was this party?"

"Decent," Terence replied. "Guy's on the swim team, and has a pool. There were a couple of young chicks -- and some hot mamas..."

"Bitches in swimsuits..." Fred leered.

"Yep. Good shit," Terence nodded. "Besides, you get a chance to meet chicks that know chicks..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So, what's your brother doin', then?"

Terence grinned. "You know how smooth Little Bro is. He got to lay his rap on some blonde -- probably getting his dick sucked right now..."

Fred was surprised. "No shit?"

"Hey, you know how it is, Pa. It's who you know. Some of these guys are big at school -- or they're gonna be. Sure, they're white boys -- but that means white bitches, you know?"

Fred eyed his son skeptically. "You tryin' to tell me you're getting white pussy?"

Terence shrugged, grinned. "Nothin' but. Pa, the ghetto thing don't cut it any more. At school everybody mixes. You want to cop an attitude, all you do is put up a wall between you and shit you might be interested in, you know?"

Fred didn't. Things had changed, and he still had the same old chip on his shoulder. He was running an inner city attitude in a small town where things just weren't that bad... It had limited his options more times that anyone had ever thought to count -- but Fred hadn't noticed, too busy playing his game. He had stereotyped himself -- and the stereotype wasn't a good one. Others in his group who had wised up, gotten a break and moved on had 'sold out' as far as he and his cronies were concerned; Louise had, too, he believed, and it was another nail in the coffin of their relationship. "You suckin' up to white boys, Boy?"

"Nah," Terence replied, carefully noncommittal. "Just not acting like they're personally responsible for shit that happened in the forties."

"Boy, we wouldn't be here, an' shit wouldn't be how it is, except for bein' dragged over here to lug their shit for them!"

Terence rolled his eyes. "Yeah, great! I could be in Africa, totin' a spear! No thanks, Pa -- I'd rather be here..."

"Yeah, well, they owe us, Boy," Fred asserted.

"Why?" Terence retorted. "I can't rag on every white person I meet because MAYBE their great-great-great-granddaddy dragged MY great-great-great-granddaddy onto a ship and carted him over here and treated him bad. In the first place, it probably ain't true -- not everyone owned slaves. In the second, it makes me look like an asshole and pisses them off -- and then they DO treat me different. In the third place, I'm better off where I am in the FIRST PLACE! Maybe grandpa took some crap from white folks, but I bet you haven't taken much that you didn't set off by acting like you're pissed at them -- and I haven't taken ANY!"

"Shit still ain't right!" Fred argued. "We still ain't where we ought to be!"

"Maybe," Terence agreed, "But it's more about copping an attitude than it is about somebody holding you down. This ain't Detroit, Pa -- this town don't have ghettos. Poor neighborhoods, yeah, but not ghettos. Look around -- half of our neighborhood is white! Are you telling me that they're better off than us? Don't bet on it -- I've played with some of them since I was little!"

Fred just grunted and rolled his eyes; there was no way Terence was going to convince him that he wasn't being tromped on -- he had too much of his life invested in the other position. Besides, that wasn't REALLY what it was all about. Terence wouldn't have bothered with the argument, except for the fact that it gave him a way to vent his anger with his father for his attitude and his actions. Fred was playing a role -- one he had grown up with, but a role nonetheless -- one that kept him in the good graces of the group he ran with. And that role didn't fit his lifestyle, and it caused him to make choices that were driving him away from his family. Terence knew this, and today, he was facing up to the fact that there would be no miracle; Pa was gonna walk out, because it was the 'hood thing to do. He would rather have the approval of the bunch he ran with than a family. Problem was -- and Terence knew this -- Pa didn't have any REAL friends, anyway... Terence handed his father the remote and walked off, disgusted; Fred shrugged and plopped in a chair. What did a kid know, anyway?

Sunday was quiet. Lon took Sally home in time for church -- and she ended up not going, having pointed out that her parents were acting like hypocrites. "Mom, what's all this about going to church? We do NOT go to church!"

"Maybe we should, Dear. And we DO go -- just not often enough, apparently..." Eleanor replied.

"Why? So I can learn to feel guilty that I love my boyfriend? So you can pretend that you tried to instill their kind of close-minded outlook on me?"

"Watch your mouth, Young Lady! Maybe you'll be exposed to young people who have respect for themselves and their parents!" Eleanor snapped.

"And maybe I'll be exposed to the usual bunch who say nice things while they try to figure out whether you've done something they can talk bad about you for!" She pointed to her mother. "YOU are the one who said the place was just a place for old hens to sit around and spread rumors and abuse people! And you were right, too!"

Eleanor grimaced. The problem was, Sally WAS right; Eleanor herself had seen too much. People didn't go to her church for the sermon -- they came for the little coffee after where everyone got together and found someone to pick on and make smarmy comments to, under the cover of being sociable. It was the problem with modern religion that it was a place for the fearful to huddle with others of like mind; sheep who would cling to each other for comfort and lend each other support (a good thing) while using misinterpretations of their religious texts to lash out at the things that they thought had gone horribly wrong in a world that had become too complex for them to deal with. Invariably, a congregation would elect a few wolves pretending to be shepherds who would whip their fear and confusion into righteous wrath and then point them at a target... This kind of behavior runs across the board, from Christian fundamentalism to Islam, and it is based in fear and ignorance instilled in children raised from birth on twisted parodies of the words and intent of the various prophets -- and every one of them was told to suspend analysis of the crap they were being fed because religion is based upon faith, not upon logic and rational analysis.

The Harknesses stopped going to church not because their religion espoused intolerance and aggression -- there isn't a religion that does -- but because its leaders found ways to present intolerance and coercion as necessary to lead the flock to the 'right path'... They attended church three or four times a year, on religious holidays, in an effort to steep themselves in the message of the religion itself, rather than the petty politics of the regular practitioners -- something a lot of 'fair weather Christians' do in this age of the 'moral majority' -- an ironic term, since they are neither in the majority or particularly moral -- particularly their leaders...

George put a lid on it. "I'm not going. There is no way that I'm going to pretend that sitting in a room with those self-deluded windbags is going to do anything good for any of us. Face it, Eleanor, we just played that card to get Sally home at a decent hour."

Eleanor nodded, turning to Sally. "We're concerned, Dear. Sex can be... intoxicating, especially to young people. Other facets of a relationship don't develop, and when the sex part begins to pall, the relationship collapses."

Sally nodded. "I understand -- but I think we're okay. I'll talk to Lon about it -- but it's not like he's being demanding..." Heck, she'd gotten thirds or fourths, having asked for them -- but she couldn't exactly tell her parents that...

There weren't any other confrontations; everyone was sated and in recovery from Saturday. Candace had a sore ass, Beth had a sore pussy, and there were some sore cocks among the boys, not that they would admit it.

Monday morning, the women got together for their usual coffee. Louise and Beth were off, so no one had anywhere else to be. Louise joined the group, and opened the first subject of conversation. "Do you really think we need to have the girls do this dog thing? Damian thinks it's the greatest thing since sliced bread, but the girls have been pretty... cooperative..."

Jean pursed her lips. "It's not about whether they're doing well in the group -- it's about whether they'll keep a secret if they decide to leave. Frankly, I think it's godawful -- but it IS a viable threat..."

Candace sighed. "It IS better blackmail material than anything I can think of. Has anybody else got a better idea?"

Beth glanced around. "Not really." She took a big bite of her sticky bun.

Jean suddenly turned green. "I'll be right back!" she croaked, and dashed off.

Louise frowned. "What was that all about?"

Candace shrugged. "She wasn't feeling well yesterday, apparently..." Louise sat back, thoughtful.

Jean was back in a few minutes, embarrassed at her departure. "I don't know what came over me -- something about the smell... Mornings are tough these days..."

Beth frowned. "How long has this been going on?"

Jean thought about it. "Since Friday. Friday, I just felt bad in the morning. Saturday, eggs didn't taste good. Yesterday, I tried pancakes..." She shrugged. "It goes away about eleven..."

Louise and Beth shared a glance. "Sweetie, what did you do with that morning-after pill I got you?"

Jean looked sheepish. "I tossed it." She blinked. "You're not seriously suggesting..."

Beth and Louise both nodded. "It's been about a month since that barbeque, hasn't it?" Beth inquired gently. "Are you regular?"

Jean thought about it. "No, but the pills..."

"... Don't stop periods, Baby," Louise chided. "You know that."

Jean flicked a glance at Candace, whose look said, 'I told you so!' better than words. "B-but..."

"But nothing," Beth rasped. "Let's find out!" She made to get up.

"Sit, finish your breakfast," Candace counseled. "If she is, it won't change in a half-hour. Is it whose I think it is?"

"Well, we didn't use a rubber the first time, although I made him for a couple after that," Jean said thoughtfully. "And I made Lon, and he's the only other one who would have been before..."

Candace pursed her lips. "This is a fine mess..."

Jean shook her head. "It can't be!"

But it was. Thirty minutes and three tests later, Jean had a collection of test kits with plus signs. Louise had gone to the pharmacy across the street and Jean had used the ladies' room to conduct the tests under Beth's supervision. "Oohhh, boy!" She collapsed in her chair.

Beth was the angriest that anyone had ever seen her. "And what is my son supposed to do about THIS?" she demanded. "This is just... WRONG!" Clearly, she viewed the pregnancy as an attempt on Jean's part to cement her relationship with Toby...

"It was an accident!" Jean wailed.

"How many times have you two had unprotected sex?" Candace demanded.

"A few," Jean admitted. "Mostly recently. Look, it had to be that very first time! I was ovulating!"

"I GAVE you a pill," Beth said frigidly.

"And you said it would make me sick!" Jean replied defensively. "Besides, who gets pregnant on the first attempt?"

"YOU do, apparently, Baby!" Louise interjected smoothly. "Let's take it easy, here, and figure out what's up..."

"You can't have it!" Beth flared, "And Toby isn't to know!"

"I..." Jean couldn't just DO that...

Candace stepped in. "Beth, you can't make that demand. Jean is going to need our help and support to make the correct decision." There was no question what Candace thought the 'correct decision' was...

Louise weighed in carefully, "This isn't something we can push her on. Do you believe in abortion, Baby?"

"Well, yeah, in principle," Jean glanced around fearfully. "For young girls, or girls that can't support themselves or a baby..."

"But not for adult women who have been raising a kid for a long time?" Louise pressed.

"Well, it's not as simple then," Jean replied. "Then it's more a matter of 'am I just being inconvenienced?' The bit about being unable to take responsibility doesn't wash. And I wasn't raped, either."

"You're pressing fatherhood on a seventeen-year-old!" Beth hissed.

"No, I can't do that," Jean replied. "He's not responsible -- I am." She remembered -- vividly -- passing up protection.

"He won't be able to escape the consequences!" Beth retorted. "You have to abort it -- or give it up -- or..."

"Frankly, she doesn't HAVE to do any of those things," Louise pointed out, having seen the whole thing too many times. "She CAN raise another child, if that's what she wants..."

"What about my Toby?" Beth demanded. "He's going to college!"

"He sure is!" Jean retorted. "Do you think I would stop THAT? There's no way!"

"Well, you WILL, if..."

"Not necessarily," Candace waved her hand to silence Beth. "You're making all of these assumptions..."

"I know Toby! He'll take responsibility!" Beth wailed.

"Is that so bad, if it is limited?" Candace retorted. "Jean isn't going to be slapping him with any paternity suits!" Jean nodded agreement.

"You have to let the boy decide for himself what he thinks," Louise interjected. "He needs to know. But the final decision about where that baby is gonna end up is with Jean."

"Maybe it's someone else's," Beth grumped.

"That's uncharitable," Candace replied evenly, "and even you don't believe it."

Beth opened her mouth -- and shut it. Candace was right. She knew Jean, and she knew what had gone on. The baby was undoubtedly Toby's. "Sorry."

"You have every right to be mad," Jean began to blubber. "I don't know WHAT came over me! I had the opportunity to stave this off, and I -- I couldn't do it!"

"Wouldn't, you mean," Beth wasn't letting her off the hook. Louise and Candace just looked at her. "Okay, okay! But Toby doesn't deserve this!"

"There would be some conflicting opinions on THAT, Hon!" Candace said evenly.

"It's HER itchy twat that got us into this mess!" Beth rasped.

"I didn't hear you callin' it a mess on Saturday when you was taking on all comers!" Louise retorted. "How many dicks did you take? Six? Eight?"

"Okay," Beth grumped. "But I don't think I'm overreacting!"

"You're not," Jean agreed, sniffling. "I warned you all that something like this would happen -- and then I stepped in it myself! There's no excuse!"

"Maybe not an excuse, but there might be a reason," Louise said quietly. "Do you WANT another young-un?"

"I..." Jean hesitated. "Maybe."

"And it needed to be Toby's, right?" Candace pressed. Louise glared at her.

"He's the only one I feel like that about!" Jean defended herself.

Beth just sat there, grimacing and pursing her lips alternately. The anger was fading. Would it be nice to have another little boy running around the house raising Hell? Yes. Or, better yet, a little girl? Yes. Would she benefit from this? Yes, a third time. "We should wait a bit to tell him, especially if Jean decides to keep the baby. God forbid that she should miscarry, or anything. Have you ever done that, Sweetie?"

"No, thank God!" Jean sighed.

The intention to delay revealing what was up failed. Toby discovered it almost instantly when he came to collect his mother thirty minutes later, to the surprise of just about everyone. "What's up?" he asked suspiciously after one glance at the quartet. They looked like Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil, and Have No Fun. He stood there, gathering impressions; Jean was looking nervous and furtive -- and everyone else as focused on her, even while they looked at him. "Jean?"

Beth opened her mouth to tell her son that it was nothing -- and discovered that she just couldn't say that. But it got her Toby's focus, "Ma?"

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"What were you going to say?"

Beth looked away, silent. Toby's mind went into overdrive. They were all holding some guilty secret -- but the focus was Jean. He exercised his will...

Candace grunted, "Delaying things is not going to work." Then her eyes got big and she shut up. Jean could NOT look at him. Louise was watching, pretending to be outside the situation, and waiting for a fireworks display.

"Jean, look at me," Toby directed quietly.

Jean wanted to get up and run, but she knew it wouldn't help. Besides, it seemed like the strength had drained from everything but her neck muscles. She raised her eyes to her lover -- her love. Her mouth started moving of its own accord while her brain was still trying to come up with some excuse that might satisfy him, shocking her. "I'm pregnant," she whispered. "I think it was our first time."

'Oh, THAT!' flickered through his mind -- and he froze, not because of Jean's announcement, but because HE ALREADY KNEW! It had been there, a background assumption in his life, for weeks... He even remembered not believing Jean when she told him she was on birth control. Jean was watching him, bug-eyed at the method of her revelation -- but Toby became aware that Jean wasn't the only one. Ma was, Candace was, Louise was, both women at the next table were... Glancing around, he realized suddenly that EVERY WOMAN IN THE PLACE was watching him! Not only could he see them, he could FEEL them, in his mind! Looking around the coffee shop was like watching that commercial on TV where the guy says, "My broker is so-and-so, and so-and-so says..." -- and everyone stops and turns around to hear! Men were looking, too, mostly trying to figure out what in the Hell their companions found so fascination about the slight boy in the eyeglasses... Composing himself, he directed a wave of thought beyond the table, the gestalt being, 'There's nothing important going on, here...' Looking around him, he saw a universal reversal, as the women in the shop returned to whatever they had been doing. Men tended to be slower, some of them still trying to get a handle on what happened, but they slowly re-engaged their companions, usually with questions. At the table next door, Toby heard the woman facing him explain to what was probably her husband, "I thought I saw something," shrugging.

Ma, Jean, Candace, and Louise were still basically frozen in place; Toby took a moment to recover, then gently nudged them to stop waiting for him to react. "You're sure," Toby stated quietly.

"Yes," Jean nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Toby replied. "I'm not even surprised." He waited a moment before adding, "You said you were on the Pill."

"I was," Jean explained, "but only for a couple of days. It wasn't long enough for it to take, but I didn't want to mess with rubbers -- it just seemed so..."

"Unnatural?" Toby supplied. Jean nodded. In an apparent total non-sequitur, he added, "It was the third time, I think."

Jean nodded again. "Me, too. I think I actually felt myself ovulate -- and you were in there, deep..."

Toby sensed conflict in his mother and turned to her. "I gave her a morning-after pill!" gushed out. "This is going to ruin your life!"

"I don't think so," Toby replied calmly. "We'll just have to do a few non-standard accommodations..." Turning to Jean, he added, "I wouldn't have taken it, either." He turned back to his mother, "I guess you'd better get used to the idea of being a grandma." Directly addressed, that facet of his mother's conflict assumed ascendancy, and she smiled.

Candace pursed her lips. "You're scary," she decided.

"You have no idea."

Louise was in silent agreement with Candace's assessment. She'd seen this type of scene play out several times -- and never, under any set of emotional responses, happy or sad, had the volume level been so low...

Toby responded to the unasked question as if he'd heard it. "I knew, somehow."

"What are we going to do?" Jean asked fearfully.

Toby shrugged. "You've made your decision -- at least twice already -- and I support it. We're going to have a child." Gathering them with his eyes, he added, " Let's go somewhere more private," turned, and walked out -- not bothering to look back because he'd gathered them with his mind, too.

An hour later, he was at home, alone in his room. Candace and Louise, who were bystanders, anyway, he'd presented the option of going home themselves, and they'd taken it. Ma and Jean were in the living room, working their way through acceptance of the situation rationally; Toby had suppressed Ma's resentment of Jean for foolishly making a life-changing mistake and Jean's agitation so they could look at things without serious conflict. Now, he was coming to grips with what had happened in his mind under the shock of Jean's announcement.

Toby couldn't hear Jean and his mother, but he could sense them. He didn't have to hear them talking to know how they felt; he could get a gestalt without effort. If he wanted to know what was coming from their mouths, he only had to dig a bit and he could collect discrete thoughts as they subvocalized, mentally preparing the words. And he could change their attitudes, at will -- he'd already done it. His experiments had suddenly borne fruit; the shock of discovering that he was looking fatherhood in the face had blown the lid off.

Gloating at his absolute power wasn't what had Toby occupied, however; the issue was the moral implications. Toby didn't believe in controlling others -- especially for his own gain! Had he unconsciously manipulated Jean -- perhaps all of the women -- to make this thing they had work?

The answer appeared to be 'some.' That first run-in with Jean, for instance, when she'd come out wearing the white bikini and he'd rolled over her -- that had been luck, more or less -- probably a basic connection, augmented by their basic affinity for one another. Toby focused his attention on Jean's mind, where she sat in the next room -- not interacting with her, but merely examining the representation in his mind of hers. It was a complicated object, like a 3-D jigsaw puzzle, with bumps and protrusions and dents. Toby couldn't see his own personality in this manner, but when he overlaid his with hers, there were a LOT of points where the pair fit together -- not all, but a definite majority. Toby tried the same thing with Ma, and the results weren't as good -- maybe thirty-five or forty percent coverage. When he dug a bit, he found that a lot of those points had to do with her feelings for him and her willingness to subordinate herself to his wants and needs -- which was profound, but was also an extension of her deep need to serve another in general.

Later involvement was probably accidental. Candace didn't need any encouragement to want to sex him -- or Rick, for that matter. Toby suspected that he'd given Damian an edge with her, accidentally. Louise and the incident with Terence was an accident, but probably largely his fault -- and the consequences of that incident were appalling to him -- and the idea that he had proposed to Lon and then implemented regarding Fred Carter was food for thought. How much of that incident had been Louise, and how much had been something buried in him? And had the follow-on incident with Fred been his idea, or Louise's? Was he subject to the thoughts and emotions of those he influenced?

Toby didn't feel that influencing others without their knowledge was either right or proper -- but it came down to the question: Could he stop? Was he in control of his powers? And if he wasn't, how could he get there without exercising them?

It was all too easy to give in to temptation, too; Jean and Ma would have been all over the place over this, with Jean bouncing off the walls going manic-depressive and Ma uncharacteristically slamming her with guilt trips over involving Toby in such a debacle -- but he had damped both sides of the conversation to the point that they were in hugging and declaring undying support for one another. Toby felt that after the histrionics, the same thing might have happened, but it might have taken a couple of days. He had meddled for their own good, and because he needed peace and quiet for his thought process -- but did he have a right to dictate such things? And wasn't it selfish? In Toby's mind, the situation was all about absolute power -- and the corruption that appeared to go hand in hand with it.