Sorrel's Long Journey to Love Ch. 07

A few days later Fletcher got a second call from Gwyneth. They wanted to invite Sorrel that Friday night. It would be just Sorrel, Gwyneth, and Hannah. They'd get together, chat, and perhaps go out for drinks. Fletcher hadn't expected a second call so soon. He didn't know what to say so he stalled. He made up a story that Sorrel might be busy, and he'd have her call back.

When Sorrel got word she called back saying she'd be delighted to go over. She suggested an early start, say 7:00. Gwyneth agreed; the time and date had been set, Friday at 7:00.

Just as Sorrel and Marion had planned when Friday rolled around at 5:30 Sorrel called back. She explained Fletcher and Mary were both away and Byron had the boys. She couldn't leave Marion home alone all night. Would it be all right if she brought her along?

Gwyneth hadn't planned for that, but agreed. Perhaps, Sorrel suggested, the four of them could find something they all could do?

It had been settled. Sorrel would have a chaperon. Whatever plans Gwyneth and Hannah originally had arranged would, by necessity, have to be put on hold.

The drive to Gwyneth's went quietly. Marion and Sorrel were both a little anxious about the evening. Sorrel wanted to keep Marion as much in the dark as she could about her circumstances, but she knew Gwyneth was a talker and a digger.

Marion was a digger too. She still knew very little about Sorrel's situation. She hoped to gain a little more insight through Gwyneth, a woman she knew to be incapable of keeping anything quiet.

They reached Gwyneth's at 7:00 sharp. The two hostesses had snacks and drinks on the table. There were chips, dip, and other munchies. Drinks included an array of whiskeys and nonalcoholic sodas. When asked Sorrel eschewed anything stronger than a white wine. Her excuse being that later she'd have to drive Marion home and Fletcher would kill her if she got loopy and tried to drive with his daughter in the car.

Sorrel's excuses made sense, but still didn't sit well with Hannah and Gwyneth, both of whom wanted to get Sorrel loose. Their original plan was to get her loose enough to consider a three way, but with Marion around and that being out; they still hoped to get her at least high enough to open up about what was happening with regard to her future. That still wouldn't deter them from pumping as much information from their two guests as possible. In fact, Gwyneth figured, Marion might be a better source of information than Sorrel.

Everyone agreed to sit and chat a while, and maybe later play some cards; but instead of bridge, poker turned out to be the game of choice. Sorrel at first was reluctant to let Marion get involved in any gambling games, afraid of what Fletcher's reaction might be, but she was overruled by the collective suasion of the other three.

Chat time revealed very little. Gwyneth was something of a crafts freak, and went on and on about flower baskets, sewing, and, of all things, the new loom she'd bought. Hannah was a health nut, sports like handball, golf, and aerobics kept her free time covered. Marion was the real pistol. There wasn't anything she didn't have at least a passing interest in, from lacrosse and baseball, to reading and poetry she dabbled in almost everything and anything. Sorrel figured that made sense. Marion was only fourteen. Everything was new to her. Sorrel acknowledged her only non-business interests had been puzzles like math games and crosswords.

Out of small talk the ladies at last agreed to go to the gaming table and try their luck at cards. While Hannah, Sorrel, and Marion collected around the table, Gwyneth put in a pizza and got the cards.

They played nickel and dime poker for a little over an hour, but no one really got an upper hand. Hannah won the most pots, but Marion won the biggest. By 9:00 the party seemed to be running out of steam. It was about that time Marion got a bright idea.

Marion got a new kind of game started, "I'm tired of playing for money. Why don't we up the ante?"

Gwyneth saw the possibilities, "Why don't we keep playing cards, but throw in a new wrinkle?"

Sorrel's antenna went up.

Hannah prevented any possible rebuttal, "Let's play poker 'truth or dare'?"

"What?" asked Gwyneth?

This was the opportunity Marion envisioned and she grabbed it, "Sure, say I win a hand. I turn to one of you and ask a question or make a dare. You get to choose between the question and the dare."

Sorrel remonstrated, "I don't know."

"Sure, it'll be fun," countered Hannah.

Sorrel had been overruled, but not before she got a condition injected that the challenges and questions had to be harmless; nothing too personal.

The truth or dare poker went along harmlessly for several rounds, but there was this sense of inevitability that sooner or later the questioning was going to turn to Sorrel.

After winning a hand of five-card draw Gwyneth asked, "Sorrel I have a question for you."

Sorrel had been playing along, and so far no one had tried to pry, "Yes?"

"How has Fletcher been treating you since the party at Steve's?"

Sorrel's eyes widened, "No special way."

That was the question Marion had been looking for. It ended the game then and there. She looked at Gwyneth, "How is my Dad supposed to treat her?"

Gwyneth looked at Sorrel, "You want to answer that or should I?"

Sorrel was in no way interested in making any personal contributions to this line of conversation. She thought she'd let the topic die on its own, "You can."

Gwyneth looked at Marion, "Your father is supposed to be punishing her."

Marion figured something like that, but had no clue beyond her own imagination, "Oh he is punishing her, he makes her take out the trash, wash the clothes, do the dishes, and baby sit."

Hannah was the on site bitch for the evening, "Really, I would have expected a lot worse, I mean after what she's done."

Sorrel tried to change the subject, "That's it, time to change the subject."

The door was ajar, and Marion kicked it in. Completely forgetting the affect it might have on the rest of the evening, her father, or any future relationship she might have with Sorrel she asked, "What was Sorrel supposed to have done?"

Gwyneth responded incredulously, "You don't know?"

"No I don't," replied Marion.

Hannah, smiling malevolently, started to say something.

Sorrel pushed her chair back, "Hannah no."

"You don't think she has a right to know?" queried Gwyneth.

"That's her father's call not yours or mine," answered Sorrel.

Looking back and forth between Sorrel, Gwyneth, and Hannah Marion interrupted, "No tell me now."

Sorrel, her voice an octave higher, said, "Let your father do that Marion. He will if you ask him."

Marion wanted to know, and she wanted to know right away. She was a good kid, and she was mature for fourteen, but her adolescent need for immediate gratification was overwhelming her normally good judgment. She looked at Gwyneth, "Tell me."

Sorrel looked at Marion, "If you drop this now, I promise I'll tell you myself later."

Marion's childishness was bleeding all over the table, "No, they can tell me now." She totally lost her sense of perspective, "Besides, how do I know you'll tell me the truth?"

Sorrel was mortified, utterly devastated. She'd thought she had a good rapport with Marion. Marion had just figuratively ripped open her blouse and plunged in a knife. She didn't know how to react, or what to say. In almost a whisper she said, "I wouldn't lie to you. You know that."

Too late Marion realized she'd gone over the edge. She'd betrayed Sorrel, and in the worst possible way, in front of people Sorrel had worked with, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

The evening was over. It was ruined. There was no reason to hang around. Sorrel looked at Gwyneth and Hannah, "I'm sorry. I think its time for Marion and me to go home."

Gwyneth tried to put a good face on things. She hadn't gotten any information, and wanted to keep the two of them around, "Oh come on. Stay." She looked at Hannah, "Go ahead; it's your turn to shuffle."

Sorrel was through, "No we have to leave. Come on Marion."

Marion got up to go. She knew she'd gone over the line. She'd hurt Sorrel, and she'd hurt her badly, "OK."

As they were all getting up Hannah, like the serpent she was, took one last swipe, "Oh by the way. Sorrel, you remember the outfit you left at Steve and Cynthia's"

Sorrel looked at Hannah. She said nothing.

Hannah, fangs already in the flesh, injected the venom, "She had to throw the thing away, said she couldn't get Fletcher's urine smell out."

Marion, now out of genuine curiosity turned to Hannah, "Urine?"

Hannah sealed the deal, "You didn't know? Your girlfriend here hasn't told you? Your father pissed all over her, the other day at Steve and Cynthia's party."

"My Dad peed on Sorrel?"

Hannah wickedly smiled, "Head to foot; made her kneel in front of him to do it."

Marion retaliated. Not her Dad. Her Dad would never do anything like that, "My Dad would never do that! That's a lie!" She looked at Sorrel, "Tell her she's lying!"

Sorrel stood mute, white as a sheet. She looked at Gwyneth, "Thanks for the evening. We'll see you around." Looking to Marion, "Come on, let's go."

Marion was in a state of shock. Sorrel hadn't refuted Hannah's claim. Her father would never do anything like that. She looked at Sorrel. She flinched back. "My Dad would never do that! Not my Dad! If he did, then you must have done something really wrong, something terrible!"

Sorrel reached out her hand, "Come on honey."

"I'm not your honey! You're not my Mom! Don't touch me!" Marion was so angry she was shaking. She didn't understand. She didn't understand anything!

Hannah's evening was complete. She'd ruined something fine, clean, and genuinely wholesome.

This was not what Gwyneth wanted. Fletcher wouldn't like this. She knew it would affect her at work.

Sorrel didn't know what to say. Marion had rejected her. She was losing something here, and couldn't figure out what or how much. She needed help, "Marion let's go."

Marion was confused. If her father did do what Hannah said, then Sorrel must be really awful. But if Sorrel was so awful why was everybody at home being so nice to her? She wanted to hit the woman standing beside her. She wanted to hug and hold her too. She wanted to cry. She wanted her mother.

Once they got in the car Marion turned on Sorrel, "OK, I want to know everything."

Sorrel kept her eyes on the road, "Wait till we get home."

"No tell me now."

"Ask your father."

"No, you tell me."

Sorrel looked down at the ring on her pinkie. She felt the necklace around her neck, "I have a hunch your father already knows what happened tonight, and already has something he wants to say."

Marion was angry, hurt, and feeling a little guilty too, "You're not telling me?"

Sorrel answered, "No."

Marion turned and faced the front. Looking out the windshield she shouted, "I hate you!"

Sorrel wanted to cry. She wanted to stop the car and plead with the girl. She had to say something, "It's OK, I love you."

Marion ripped back, "You don't love me! You don't love anybody, and nobody loves you!"

Sorrel realized she didn't want to cry after all. She'd had enough personalized pity party's. Somewhere along the line she'd changed. The center of her universe was no longer Sorrel Sullivan. Her new polarity had become the confused girl sitting in the car next to her.

Like a bolt from the blue; it dawned on her, she really did love this young girl. She told her too, "No Marion, I really do. I really do love you."

Marion was too busy being a child to understand, "Yeah, sure." She was mad, and she was insanely unhappy, and didn't know why, "Well I hate you!"

It was gut wrenching to hear it, but Sorrel knew she didn't mean it. She peaked back down at her pinkie finger. She hoped Fletcher had been electronically eavesdropping. She certainly needed the help.

Regrettably, he hadn't been listening. Fletcher had been in a meeting with Pearce and Charles about something else related to Sorrel. He had no idea what had blown up at Gwyneth's.

The two women continued home in awkward silence; one an angry teenager, a young girl unsure of her father, missing her mother, and feeling terribly alone, the one, older, unsure, wanting to share her love, but just as alone.

The younger person felt betrayed and needed reassurance from someone, but she couldn't quite figure out what for. Sorrel decided this was Fetcher's child, and though she wished she could help, it was Fletcher's responsibility, but she'd be there if needed.

Fletcher was meeting with Charles and Pearce. This was their second meeting concerning Sorrel's situation. None of them could quite figure out what was wrong. They all knew they were uncomfortable. Like Mary and Fletcher, both Pearce and Charles agreed the whole thing was too clean, too thorough, too complete to be real. Something was just not right.

Charles decided to go outside the company. He'd contact all the people Sorrel worked with. Using as an excuse she was sick, and he was covering while she was out, he'd try to find out what he could.

Pearce agreed to reexamine all the paperwork, rehear all the tapes, and get a new outside source to listen through the tapes for possible tampering. He said he'd find a reliable, discreet, source, and if anything turned up he'd let them know.

Fletcher said he'd dig back into the computer banks, both his and Sorrel's, to see what he might pick up. He was convinced, somewhere out there, he'd find a clue, an unturned rock, a mistake, an oversight, something, or anything that might cast doubt on what they already had.

Fletcher got home close to midnight. Sorrel and Marion had been home well over an hour. Sorrel was waiting in the kitchen. Marion had gone upstairs.

He'd hardly gotten in the front door when she called out, "Fletcher, is that you?"

"Yes, why are you still up? How did the party go?"

"Horribly, we need to talk."

Fletcher was tired. It had been a busy day. He thought he'd have good news for Sorrel. Now this, "Can't it wait till morning?"

"No we need to talk. I need you."

He came in and sat down, "Look I'm exhausted. This had better be important."

Sorrel didn't know quite how to tell him, so she just let it out, "Hannah told Marion you peed on me. Now she's angry. She wants to know what I'm supposed to have done. Why I'm here, and why, if I'm so bad, why am I treated so well."

Fletcher had regretted the urine trick as soon as he'd done it, but he never thought it would get back to any of his kids, "Is Marion awake? Tell her to come downstairs."

Sorrel went to the bottom of the steps and called out, "Marion are you awake?"

She was awake. She'd heard her father when he came in. She'd been waiting, wondering of Sorrel would tell him anything. It was a test. If she told her father tonight then, maybe, she wasn't that bad, "I'm awake."

"Your father wants to see you."

Marion called down, "Are you going to be there?"

That hurt, but Sorrel answered, "Not if you don't want me."

Marion was halfway down the steps, "I don't want you." She walked by the woman like she didn't exist.

Fletcher had heard the exchange, as his daughter walked in he said, "I want her."

Marion looked like she'd been crying, and she had, "I don't see why we need her."

Fletcher was tired, and not into negotiation, "Sit down Marion, and shut up."

Marion looked pleadingly at her father; then she glared at Sorrel. She didn't exactly know why she did it, she just felt she should. She shot at her, "You're not my mother; I hardly know you. Why don't you leave?"

Fletcher spoke tenderly, "Marion, please sit down." In a way he was glad Mary wasn't home. It would have been harder explaining what he'd done in front of her too.

Marion sat down, but refused to look at Sorrel, "I want her to leave. She doesn't belong here. She's not a part of our family."

He could tell his daughter was really upset. She was having some kind of crisis that was for sure. He just didn't know what kind. He hoped he got this right. Looking at Sorrel he said, "You sit down too."

Sorrel looked at him, "You're sure?"

He responded, "Absolutely."

Marion started say something.

Fletcher glared at his daughter, "You shut up" turning again to Sorrel, "and you sit."

Marion shut up, and Sorrel sat down.

Fletcher sat in a chair beside his daughter. His demeanor immediately changed from overbearing autocrat to sympathetic Dad, "Marion you're my daughter, and I love you. Now listen. I'm going to tell you everything. When I'm through you'll decide about whether Sorrel should stay, leave, or whatever."

Sorrel was wracked with nervous tension. She was tired, and she felt like her head was about to explode. She didn't want an angry teenager making that kind of decision, but it was a mark of the man that he trusted his daughter so much. She never dreamed she'd ever have this much respect for Fletcher. Regardless of what he said or what Marion decided she wanted very much to be a part of this family, even if only as a hanger on, certainly she could hope for nothing more.

"Marion," Fletcher began, "a few weeks ago Ms. Henderson came to us with a report that implicated Sorrel in a massive swindle of the company. We all studied it, and concluded Sorrel was guilty. The other day at Steve and Cynthia's we confronted her. She denied everything."

He waited for effect, then continued, "The evidence was, and is, pretty damning. We decided she was guilty, but agreed to keep it secret. I mean keep it from going public. We decided to find a way to get rid of Sorrel, get rid of her in a permanent way."

Marion interrupted, "What like kill her?"

"No worse, I think," answered Fletcher.

"What were you going to do?" asked Marion.

Fletcher held up a hand, "Hold it. I'll come to that. First, we all thought she was guilty. It fell on me to be the tyrant, the one who'd regulate her life till we ruined it for good."

Marion was really upset. She looked scared, "Did you really pee on her Daddy?"

Shit he thought. It would be Daddy now, "Yes I did. But I did for effect. I was supposed to scare her, really make her afraid. Start to make her unravel emotionally."

He glanced at Sorrel. She wasn't handling this any better than Marion, "Yeah I peed on her, but I was sorry I did it almost right away." He looked directly at her, "I'm sorry Sorrel; I really am." He hesitated then continued, "Like I said at the Vasquals. I'm sorry. I meant it then, and I mean it now."

He looked back at his daughter, "That was a part of the plan."

"What plan Daddy?"

This had to be about the worst day of his life since Diana died. He decided to tell it all, even to Marion, "Sorrel's mental health was frail that day. We figured." He stopped, "No one knows this except me, Florence and your uncle."

Why was he telling her this? Like a fool he went on, "We planned on causing a mental collapse, have her evaluated as being out of her mind, we have the doctors, and we'd have them lock her away forever in some government run overseas mental facility."

His gaze shifted back to Sorrel. She looked terrified, "She'd be locked away in a foreign country, gone forever. No one would ever know what happened to her. She'd simply disappear, cease to exist."

He behaved as though he was talking to his fourteen year old daughter, but he was looking at and walking toward Sorrel, "She has no family, no friends, no contacts, nothing. No one would miss her. She'd simply vanish, and the failed fraud would vanish with her."

Sorrel was seated, completely immobilized. Though her body was shaking, she couldn't seem to move. Only her shaking hands and her quivering frame seemed to move.