Good Hearted Ch. 03

It was ten o'clock on Saturday morning before Ethan opened his eyes. He had two hours before he needed to be at work as a tutor at the library. Still in the shorts and t-shirt he fell asleep in, he padded down the hallway to the small kitchen. On the way he stopped at his mother's bedroom and checked on her. She worked second shift at the hospital and sometimes she worked third as well, as they struggled to make ends meet. Even a modest apartment in the city commanded a steep rent. Until recently, Ethan thought his father had abandoned them when he was five. He found out the truth that man Ethan thought of as his father was actually his step-father. His biological father remained shrouded in mystery and his mother hadn't shared any of the details.

Ethan surveyed his mother's sleeping form. She was still dressed in the burgundy scrubs of the hospital, wrapped up in the comforter, on top of the blankets. He deduced she had worked a double and had only been asleep for a couple hours. Ethan gently sat on the edge of the bed and untied her shoes, slipping them off her feet. Then he rearranged the comforter and quietly left her sleeping. Ethan started a pot of coffee and opened the apartment's one window that looked out on the street several floors below. The day was gray, windy and wet. Perfect late fall weather. Ethan didn't mind. One of the changes that had recently taken place was his ability to handle the chill that kept everyone else bundled up tightly. Ethan watched the city until he heard the gurgling sound that told him the coffee was finished brewing. He poured a cup of bodega coffee and returned to watch the city in its muted mode.

Across the street, the windows of the apartments were either dark or glowing yellow. When Ethan's gaze landed on a glowing window, he could sense something of the occupants. His focus was becoming like a radio dial, tuning in distant stations. Ethan would have thought it strange, except for all of the other strange things that had occurred since he attempted to intervene on behalf of an old man in an alleyway. The more Ethan focused on a window, the more he could detect going on beyond. He discovered children fighting over which cartoons to watch, young couples in the throes of morning intercourse, an older couple moving silently through a routine practiced for decades. Ethan blushed at the sexual voyeurism and turned his attention down to the street. By concentrating on the passers-by, he could get a sense of what they were thinking and feeling. One of the pedestrians was upset. She had lost her favorite aunt and was suffering. Ethan wished that she would remember only the good things about her aunt and for her pain to fade. In a few steps he saw her chin raise and what looked like a wry smile cross her face.

Ethan played with this new ability, reading people and offering hope and compassion when he could. He stopped when his temples hurt from the constant strain. Ethan drained his coffee and another cup, thinking of nothing in particular except Alexa. She was the focus of his world. His tryst with Becky Hearn was necessary. It had cleared his mind and cleared his lust. It was unlikely to be repeated. Like so many of the occurrences lately, Ethan resigned himself to being manipulated by powerful forces he did not yet understand. Sex with Becky, though entirely enjoyable, was for the purpose of getting her pregnant with Ethan's first child, a daughter.

With an hour left to shower, dress and make his way to the city library, Ethan put his coffee cup in the sink and went to his room. He stripped naked and grabbed some of the clothes he intended to wear to work as a tutor. He walked down the hallway and as he reached to the bathroom his mother's bedroom door opened and she walked out. She saw her naked son standing in the hallway and only paused a moment, her eyes scanning his teenage form, before she brushed passed him into the bathroom.

"Got to go, you are going to have to wait, honey," she mumbled by way of apology.

Ethan froze in his tracks. Did his mother really just check him out? Why did he strip before going to the bathroom? He never did that. Many confused thoughts were rushing around in his head when the door opened and his mother stepped out, having finished her urgent business.

"It's all yours Ethan," she said with a smile. This time she did check him out, admiring his shoulders, his forming pecs, his flat stomach; letting her eyes linger on his organ for just a moment. Ethan felt a flush of her desire and his cock twitched, breaking her daydream. As she crossed to her bedroom he thought he heard her say something like "He sure is growing up." But she might have thought that, Ethan wasn't sure.

Ethan entered the bathroom and started the shower, thinking about his mother and how she had given him that look. Twenty minutes later he was showered and shaved. He stood in front of the steamy mirror, dropping his towel from his waste. While he brushed and combed, he let his eyes wander over his reflection, much like his mother did. "I really am taller," he thought to himself. "And my cock IS bigger." He also noted his legs look stronger as did his arms and shoulders. Ethan's eyes landed on his new birthmark. He set down the comb and touched the birthmark with his left forefinger. Ethan felt dizzy. The mist on the mirror began to move. The room reflected in the mirror and Ethan could see something brown and distant where the wall used to be. He leaned in, trying to get a better look. When his forehead struck the mirror, Ethan came back to the present. In the mirror his image was mocking him with a wry smile. He had to laugh at himself.

He left the bathroom better dressed than he entered and walked the short distance to his bedroom to finish dressing. One the way out of the apartment he paused at his mother's door. There was an impression emanating from the other side of the door. Ethan thought twice about opening it and disturbing what Ethan was certain was an active pleasure fantasy on the other side. Without looking on the other side of the door, Ethan was certain his mother was masturbating. He also knew she was masturbating to the thought of his nude form. Ethan never thought of his mother as a sexual creature with base desires before. Instead of being horrified, he was glad to find she was getting her well-deserved release. He smiled and wished her the best orgasms ever. Before he reached the front door of the apartment, Ethan heard her muffled cries as she succumbed to the pleasant sensations, not hearing her mumble his father's name.

Ethan ran all the way to work. He chose to run down the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. The traffic was light and Ethan could sense what every nearby vehicle was going to do with more than enough time to react and alter course. There were several intersections where Ethan's running speed out-paced the traffic. Ethan made fast progress downtown, beating the light traffic.

At the library, Mrs. Altuvia crooked her finger to have Ethan follow her into room behind the circulation desk. The room was large, and filled with the desks of seven librarians, carts of books, stacks of references, and shelves on every wall stuffed with books new and old.

"I've been reading quite a bit about your ability to spontaneously speak and think in Spanish. I was quite surprise that it's not unprecedented. After severe trauma, there have been dozens of documented cases of people suddenly becoming fluent in different languages and skills. It's as if the brain is unlocked or hyper-charged," she explained.

"Do you think it's permanent?" Ethan asked.

"I didn't read about any of the skills being temporary."

"That's good. Because now I can, well, not really read minds, but I can tune in people and get an understanding of what they are thinking or feeling," he admitted.

"Extra Sensory Perception has been a scientific theory for many decades. There have been many university and government studies into ESP, including some that were dangerous involving hallucinogenic drugs and sensory deprivation. Those studies ended up with some subjects going mad and having permanent brain damage."

"Do you think I might be going mad or have some kind of brain damage?" Ethan asked, suddenly concerned.

"No Ethan, I don't think so. If anything, I think it's more likely that the trauma you suffered awakened natural talents," she said reassuringly. "If you had brain damage or madness, I think your first symptom would have been a change in your personality. You still have such a good heart, you haven't changed. Except to be nicer and kinder, if that is possible."

"There is one other thing," he admitted, moving his head closer to her. "I've been, um, this is embarrassing. It's just that I've been, uh really I don't know how to say this..."

"Are you trying to say you have been having sex?" she asked suppressing a smile.

Ethan nodded.

"Welcome to growing up, Ethan. It happens to the best of us. It was bound to happen to you too, eventually." She patted him on the shoulder and gave his arm a rub. Ethan could tell she was checking out his developing muscles and giving him a once over in her mind. She revealed a little of her youthful wildness in those thoughts. Ethan was impressed by how much the steady-minded research librarian had experienced during the freewheeling seventies and eighties. It was Ethan's turn to smile as he left the shared office area and headed upstairs to begin his tutoring sessions.

The first girl to arrive at the door was a pre-teen who was guided in by her mother. She was a pretty girl, but she kept her eyes down and didn't look Ethan in the eye. Her mother put her in the chair to Ethan's right and she sat in a chair in the corner.

"Hi there, my name is Ethan. What's yours?" The girl didn't respond, she just kept her head down and her hands in her lap.

"Layla, be polite. Answer the teacher," scolded her mother.

Ethan gave the mother a good look. She was a bottle blonde in platinum. She dressed too young for her actual age, as if she were desperate to keep her youth. Worry lines broke up the smoothness of her facial skin. Her nails were fake, her breasts were fake and her tan was fake. Her jewels were real though, of that Ethan was certain.

"Hello Layla, I'm glad to meet you. If give me a chance, you'll find I am a pretty good tutor." His words seemed to ease her apprehension.

"It's nice to meet you, Ethan," she mumbled. Her chin raised a fraction and she looked towards Ethan's part of the table they shared, not yet meeting his gaze.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now what subject do you need help in?" he asked quietly.

"She needs help in all of her subjects," interrupted her mother. "I just don't understand it, until this year she was always an excellent student. But sixth grade has been different."

"Mrs. ______, I'm afraid I don't know your name," Ethan began.

"Francesca Williams-Peterson," filled in the blank. She offered no more than that. She didn't need to. Even Ethan had heard of the Petersons. The largest museum in the city was The Peterson. The city's hospital had the Peterson Heart Center as it's biggest cash cow. The high school football teams played in Peterson Stadium. When she spoke, Ethan felt Layla shrink a little, withdrawing back into her shell.

"Mrs. Williams-Peterson, would you be more comfortable in one of the reading chairs in the periodical section? Layla and I are going to be at this for a couple hours. These wooden chairs tend to get a little hard over that time."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she admitted, rising. Layla's mother had been trying to find an excuse to leave the study room and find someplace where she could concentrate on herself in the mirror or her friends on her phone. She gathered her things quickly and walked out, leaving her daughter behind without a word. Once she was well out of hearing, Ethan turned to the girl.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ethan asked, reaching halfway across to his pupil, and laying his hand flat on the table, fingers spread. If she wanted to talk, she was going to have to meet him halfway, but Ethan was signaling he was open to it. Layla shook her head no. "I have to tell you the truth, Layla. I know what's going on. I know why you have difficulty in school now. I know why you don't trust me. I know why you are so scared and so sad. I know. I know what your step-father and step-brother are doing."

Layla sobbed silently, shoulders shaking. She didn't say a word. She didn't look up. Ethan's heart broke at her shame and self-loathing.

"It's not your fault, Layla. Look at me." She looked up for the first time. He held out both hands, palms up, in the center of the table. "It's not your fault. And it will never happen again. Do you believe me?" Layla looked him in the eyes and nodded her head. She reached out and took his hands. Ethan wished she would understand it wasn't her fault, that her step-father and step-brother were sick. They couldn't control their predatory urges, but that she was safe now. A great burden left her shoulders and she sat up straighter.

"Your mother knows, doesn't she?" he asked.

"I told her about it when Scotty first kissed me and felt me down there," she said. "She told daddy, but daddy didn't do anything to Scotty or make him stop. Then I told her when daddy but his finger in my privates and she said I was lying. I wasn't lying. But she didn't do anything about it. She made me go to the doctor who made me lay on the table and show him my privates. He stuck his fingers inside me too. Now my mommy says I have to take a pill every day."

Ethan's blood began to boil. Mrs. Williams-Peterson was systematically preparing her daughter to be whored out to her step-brother and step-father. He began to consider the diverse ways he could make this girls family suffer for their abuse and mistreatment.

"Let's see if we can get you caught up on your homework," he said cheerfully and they pair spent two hours on math, social studies, and language studies. Without the worries of being abused, Layla began to revert to her former ways. She was naturally intelligent. At three o'clock Mrs. Williams-Peterson arrived at the door, looking to end the session.

"Layla, would you wait by the stairs while I give your mother an update on your progress?" he asked. "She is going to be very proud of how much you've done today."

"Yes Ethan. Thank you for helping me, I learned so much!" she was all smiles and glowing again, like a pretty pre-teen should. When she was safely away, Ethan locked his eyes onto her mother.

"You owe your daughter a lifetime of devotion for what you've done to her, what you are preparing to do to her, what you've allowed to be done to her." he growled.

"What are you referring to?" the woman blustered in reply.

"You ignored her pleas for help, not once, but twice. And then you had her put on the pill so she could become the sexual surrogate for you. All because your husband is a sick fuck who gets his rocks off abusing young girls and you are too fucking scared to stand on your own two feet. You worthless gold-digging bitch."

"How dare you speak to me like that! I am going to have you fired! I am going to sue you for slander. I am going to make you PAY for speaking to me like that!" She turned to storm off and Ethan's right hand flashed out and locked onto her wrist.

"You will do no such thing," he said so quietly she could barely hear him. She didn't struggle. She was unable to move a muscle. "What you will do is to begin to act your age and dress your age. Like I said, you OWE your daughter. From now on, you are going to devote your life being the role model for your daughter she deserves. You WILL become the kind of woman you should have been all along. You WILL stand on your own two feet and you WILL ALWAYS have your daughter's back. You will only feel joy when she feels joy until the end of your days. If you must, you will surrender your life to save hers. Do I make myself clear?" Her mother nodded slowly, tears of shame in her eyes. "Before you and your daughter leave the city, you will call your husband and ask him to meet you for dinner. Tell him to bring his son. Tell him you have an extra special night planned because Layla did so well today. Don't worry, your husband will be glad to be a part of the celebration in her honor. He can't stop himself from wanting to be around her."

"I don't understand," she replied. "That will make them think I am giving them Layla. I won't ever let them near her again. I can't."

"Don't worry about what they think. They won't be molesting Layla tonight or any other night. Have them meet you at the Rainforest Café."

"That's Layla's favorite place in the world to eat," she said. "How did you know?"

"Arrange to have them meet you there at seven o'clock. I'll handle the rest," Ethan responded, ignoring her question.

Layla nodded and Ethan released her.

"Now go and treat Layla like the daughter she is and be the mother she needs. Take her out and treat her to a mother-daughter day at the spa. It's her reward for catching up her homework."

Ethan helped two more students that afternoon and at six o'clock he sent away his last student. Ethan cleaned up his carrel and took the stairs to the main floor. He spent a few minutes shelving the returned books and then left for the rest of the weekend. When he reached the street, he began his run to the zoo, where The Rainforest Café overlooked the giant jungle enclosure that drew a hundred thousand visitors its first year. Ethan arrived ten minutes before seven. He waited outside the zoo, certain that Layla and her mother were inside already, having spent the afternoon being primped and pampered. Ethan could feel the joy coming from Layla and the joy being reflected by her mother. Mrs. Williams-Peterson was now elegantly dressed, appropriate for a wealthy woman in her mid-thirties.

Robert Eugene Peterson III and Robert Eugene Peterson IV arrived in a Maybach limousine. It pulled up to the no parking zone in front of the zoo entrance. RE Peterson was a well-known benefactor of the zoo and his charcoal luxury car was in no danger of being towed.

"Mr. Peterson, a word please?" asked Ethan when he stepped in front of the elder Peterson, the current owner of the Peterson fortune. The heir to the Peterson fortune took up a position next to his father. Senior Peterson was had silver on his temples and a bed-bought tan. His suit was impeccable. The junior Peterson was the younger version of the father. Ethan knew without looking that the twenty-year-old was wearing clothing more expensive than all the clothes Ethan owned. Neither sneered openly, but Ethan could tell they were prepared to brush him off, if they could do so without causing a scene.

"Do I know you?" asked the elder Peterson.

"Not yet, sir. My name is Ethan Rome. I'm your daughter's tutor," he answered flatly.

"I'm sure you are very dedicated to your work. I appreciate what you are doing for my daughter. What can I do for you, young man? I am late for a dinner engagement" he stated evenly, looking down his nose as if one of the help who dared to interrupt his plans, even for a moment.

"You can start off by keeping your child-molesting hands off of Layla," Ethan said coldly. "Both of you." Peterson IV opened his mouth to speak. "Be quiet until you are told to speak," ordered Ethan, voice like ice. "Your days of being a child molester are over. When I think of all the young girls and young women you've sexually abused in your life, I want to end your life on the spot. And you've passed your sickness on to your son." RE's jaw clenched. His hands balled into fists. Ethan felt the older man's rage and was amused by the futility of it.

"You were younger than your son is now, when you started indulging your sick vices. I know your father protected you, kept your proclivities out of the paper and your ass out of jail. For this, you will feel physically ill every time you think of it. Your shame will never be erased. You will be tormented forever by your own actions." He turned his attention to the son. "You will no longer want to follow in your father's footsteps into pedophilia. You will treat the women in your life with respect and decency. But you will never be with a woman again. Either of you. Your only sexual desire from this moment on will be for each other. Fucking your son will be the only way you achieve sexual satisfaction for the rest of your life," Ethan said coldly. He turned back to the son. "Getting fucked by your father will be the only way you achieve satisfaction. The Peterson line ends here. When Layla turns thirty, you will name her the sole heir to the Peterson fortune. She will control all of your holdings. You will see to it that she is prepared for the responsibility. You will ensure she marries well, for love, to a man who will treat her like the woman she will become, not like a piece of meat. Do I make myself clear?"