Hidden Acres Ch. 06

All characters are over the age of eighteen.

I'm not a professional, and this story just sort of comes out of me and not necessarily in the right order. This chapter probably should have been the prelude, but it's here now.

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The history of Hidden Acres, especially its peculiarity in comparison to the rest of the world, began in the old world. Traditions brought over by immigrants who developed their own customs, which were in stark contrast to the Puritans who first settled the New World. These settlers were happy to start new lives, but they would not give up their old ways.

1833

A tall, well built man stood looking out at the night sky on the front porch of his small cabin. Smiling, he sipped from a cup as he gazed at the stars and felt his building excitement. Turning, he moved into the house. Arild stepped through the door into the tiny room he shared with his wife, Ainye. He stood back and watched as she brushed her honey colored hair with a fine comb that she'd brought with her from the old country. So many things had changed in their lives since coming to America, but some things had remained the same. Tonight she'd continue a tradition that had been passed down for countless generations. He recalled his own initiation with fondness and felt a pang of jealousy.

"Second thoughts husband?" Ainye turned to look at him, her simple gown homespun and threadbare. Their lives were not filled with many luxuries, but they were happy. And free.

"No," Arild answered with a playful smile. "Just recalling the time my mother invited me into her bedchamber. I can only imagine Sven's face when he sees you for the first time. It's a vision that will stay with him forever."

"Oh? Do you still think of your mother when you lay with me?" She laughed at his blushing cheeks. "I guess I should be grateful she taught you well and that you were so fond of her. I have reaped the benefits of that love."

"And Sven's future wife will be just as grateful to you."

1851

Frederick Long stood atop the small rise and looked out upon the tree covered hills. His luck at gambling had provided him a plot of land to provide for his extended family. His wife, Maeve, had misgivings and her dark looks were averted whenever he offered the alternative.

They'd been driven from three towns in as many years. The mobs that had driven out the Mormons couldn't or didn't want to see that Long's clan was not part of that sect and had turned on them as well. His father Arild had perished on the first occasion they'd been forced to flee in the night, his mother a year later of a broken heart.

Now he had found a place where he and his cousin's families could settle down and make a life of their own. A community that they would build and not be subject to the moralists who'd rather rail against honest, free folk who chose to live their lives a bit differently from themselves.

"It's not much," Finn, Frederick's eldest son, said at his side.

"It's ours and that is the most important thing." With a clap to his son's back he said, "It's home now."

"Granddad would have loved it," Finn said.

1879

Long's Camp had tripled in size in nearly three decades. Gone were the tents and makeshift shelters, replaced by log homes cut down from trees along the hillside and further up the mountain. In creating his home, Frederick had found a business, providing lumber to the saw mills along the river. Unlike other logging camps though, this place was a home to families and had turned into a small, respectable town.

The work had been arduous, back breaking labor, but they'd cleared the land enough for small plots to be tilled. The pride of the community was the garden that they all tended, growing food for themselves. It grew in size over the years until the placement of homes had surrounded it. A newcomer walking through the rows of houses would suddenly find themselves in a lush, wild Eden-like area. It became known as Hidden Acres.

Orla Ivers was covered in sweat as she worked the ground, digging up potatoes and tossing them into a basket. A cloth tied around her head and pulled low over her brow, kept the sweat from her eyes but her face was dirty where she'd wiped the back of her hand against her cheeks. A few feet away was another woman, a few years younger, but just as dirt covered.

"Don't you think it's time, Hannah?" Orla looked up at her sister in law. She stopped working and waited for the other woman to respond.

"I'm still not sure," Hannah responded at last, depositing a small pile of potatoes into the basket. She set her trowel down and looked up. "I'm not like you, Orla, I wasn't raised the way you were."

"Angus is a man now," Orla said, as if the woman had been unaware that her son had grown up. "He goes to work with the men, does as much, if not more than some. Soon he'll be wanting to find a wife."

"I know, I know," she said, irritated. They'd had this conversation a number of times over the last three months, twice in the last week. "Why do you hound me so?"

"Because you agreed to this when you married Arlo. You have benefited from our traditions, you've told me as much and in plain words." Hannah lowered her head in embarrassment. "You know I speak the truth."

Hannah nodded in agreement and looked up into the sky. "I just don't think I can do it. I don't think I can lay with my own son."

Orla considered her friend for a long moment. She'd feared this for a long time. Hannah had never truly embraced their traditions when she'd agreed to be Arlo's wife. She wasn't the only one who married into the family who had refused to partake in their ways, and Orla feared that their traditions were in jeopardy of fading away.

"I can do it for you," Orla offered. "It's not unheard of for another woman to step in, if there is need."

"Do you want to do that?" Hannah asked, perplexed.

"It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of need. He needs to be shown the proper ways so that he doesn't become a brute or a rapist like so many men on the outside."

"Arlo will not be happy," Hannah said quietly. "He's asked as many times as you have. I know he is disappointed in me. I'm just so unsure is all. It's not that I think what you do is wrong-"

"What WE do," Orla corrected. "As far as the world is concerned you are one of us now. You can not separate yourself from us, even if you would like to." Hannah nodded again, looking down. "I will guide you then. I will be there as you teach Angus."

Hannah smiled weakly and agreed.

1968

Nancy shut the bedroom door as she stepped into the hallway, looking down to make sure her plain nightgown was pulled down properly. Smoothing her hair, she felt the familiar flutters of excitement as she made her way to Eric's room. Her son would be awake and ready for her, she had no doubt. He had an insatiable appetite it seemed, something she had grown to adore about him. His wonderment never ceased and he was so inventive! She wondered where he had learned so many things that she had never thought to try herself.

That she was returning to his bed would have shocked her mother, who had explained that teaching your son was a one time event. Nancy thought that was silly, who could learn enough from a single encounter? There wasn't enough time in a single night to make anyone a proper bed partner. Besides, Nancy enjoyed sharing his bed, another thing that her mother might have been shocked at.

Eric sat up as she pushed his door open, the light from the hallway piercing the darkness and silhouetting her. She saw his eager smile and his bright eyes as he pulled back the covers and offered the space next to him.

1984

"I won't do that," Edna said loudly. Her words echoed off the yellow kitchen walls. "I can't believe you would ask me that!"

"Edna," Nancy began, her voice calm and reasonable. "It's our way. It's what we've done for generations."

"Mom, I think you need therapy. And maybe to call the police. Granddad never should have done that to you."

Nancy bit her lip. She realized now she had waited too long to bring this up with her daughter. With Eric she had been so excited that she could hardly wait for his eighteenth birthday. Now she was trying to explain to twenty three year old Edna the duties of a mother and wife and it was all going horribly wrong. How could she think that the time she'd spent in her fathers bed was anything but beautiful?

"Do I look like I'm a victim? Do you think anyone in this family thinks they can take me whenever they please as if I'm some sow?" Nancy was getting angry, her daughter acted as if it was beneath her to perform the duties she had done for years.

"No," Edna admitted, her voice quiet.

"I'm trying to help you, to teach you the things my mother taught me and her mother taught her."

"I won't do it." Edna's voice and body were trembling. She was afraid, Nancy was certain.

Sighing heavily, Nancy nodded. "Okay, I won't force you."

2010

Sandra Longsman waited in the sunlit room, admiring herself in the mirror. The wedding gown she wore hugged her thin body and blossomed into a long train of silky white. Her curled hair was done to perfection and her makeup made her seem angelic. She could imagine David's stunned reaction when he saw her. A knock at the door caused her to turn away from her reflection.

"Come in," she said and smiled as her grandmother Ninny entered the room. As a child Sandra had said Ninny instead of Nancy and the name had stuck. The strained relationship between her mother and grandmother had been palpable, evident even to a young girl, and so she had not spent much time with her. Ninny was warm and affectionate whereas her mother had been stern and almost cold.

"Look at you child, just like an angel!" Nancy took hold of her arms and gazed at her adoringly. "Are you all ready to be a married woman?"

Sandra smiled bashfully, her blush making her cheeks red. "I'm nervous Grandma," she admitted.

"But excited?"

"Oh yes! Very excited!"

"Good, good," Nancy let go of her and they sat upon the nearby bed. "I know everything will be perfect for you."

It broke Sandra's heart that she was here alone with her grandmother, her mother should be with them. Edna had gotten angry when Sandra insisted that her grandmother be invited to her wedding, but had relented when Sandra had set her jaw and threatened to elope if she was denied.

"Grandma, what came between you and mom? She would never tell me. You've always been a role model for me, so tough and yet so tender at the same time."

Nancy was quiet for some time, searching for the words to explain. "Your mother did not approve of the way I've lived my life." Nancy smiled warmly at the shocked look on her granddaughter's face. "It's okay, our people have suffered for our beliefs before. It's not such a shock that your mother would object, but I'd hoped she could live and let live."

"Our people? Our beliefs?"

"Your mother forbade me to tell you and she feared I would do it behind her back, which is why she kept you from us for so long. You're a woman now, ready to start your own family, so you have the right to know if you wish. I did not come up here to share this with you, but since you've asked, I can't deny you the truth of your heritage."

"Tell me, please. I have to know what caused you two to be so distant."

Sandra searched her grandmother's face, seeing in her the wisdom and toughness that had seen her through countless hard times. She'd raised a large family, five sons and two daughters, in less than ideal conditions, but they'd all turned out happy and healthy. All except for Edna, who pulled away from them all.

"Dear, what I am about to tell you may shock you, as it did your mother. When I get through I hope that if you don't agree, that you'll have enough love in your heart not to judge me too harshly. I didn't force anything on your mother and allowed her to make her own choice. I still loved her even though she chose differently than I had, but she did not return that love.

"I was instructed in and lived my life according to the ways of the Jocaline Order. This belief system was brought over from the old world when our ancestors moved to America to find a better life for themselves and us. They were persecuted, chased out of towns and communities until they came here and settled."

Nancy took a deep breath before she continued, "The core principle of this order is love. To love one's family in all ways. To provide them comfort when the world is harsh and cruel, to provide them happiness when all seems lost. We express that love in many ways: service to one another in making sure that we are all clothed and fed; kindness to one another when we are saddened; and physical love."

Sandra's eyes widened at that last. Nancy watched her carefully, waiting for signs of shock and horror, but they did not come.

"It is for that last that the world has condemned us and for which your mother severed her ties with the rest of the family."

"Why? What did she object to?"

"It has been our way that an older family member instructs a young person who has entered adulthood in the ways of physical love. My mother and father taught me, as your grandfather's mother taught him."

"So when I turned eighteen daddy was supposed to-" Sandra couldn't finish the sentence.

"No, dear," Nancy assured her quickly. "It was long before then that your mother and I had our falling out. I had hoped that would be the case, but it didn't happen for your mother and whether she was thankful or angry that she'd never experienced the initiation, I don't know. When I tried to explain to her, it was too late. She was as old as you are now, she never gave it any thought, only reacted to something she had thought wrong. Seeing that it was no use arguing with her, I let it go. I hoped that she'd stay close to the family, but she pulled away, taking you with her."

Sandra's mind spun at these words. It explained so much and yet it made her heart ache for all of the love lost. Never affectionate, almost cold, Edna had always kept Sandra at arm's length, as if she were afraid to touch her daughter at all. She considered the relationship her parents had and realized that her mother's aloof attitude probably extended to her father as well. Then her thoughts drifted to her aunt and uncles and the meaning of Ninny's words.

"Does that mean you and Uncle Eric?" Nancy nodded. "Arlis? Johan?" More nods. "Aunt Gertie?"

"Well, that was your grandfather, of course."

Sandra felt dizzy with the realization that her grandparents had slept with almost all of their children. The thought should have repulsed her, she knew, from all of the things she'd been taught, but knowing that they were all happy adults contradicted that knee jerk reaction. How could you argue with facts? All of her mother's siblings had successful marriages, careers and lives. You couldn't point to one and say "See? That one's screwed up."

"Was it a one time thing? Just the one night?"

Nancy shook her head, "Not always. And it wasn't just for instruction. I did mention comfort as one of the ways in which we express love. After my mother passed I was there for my father when he needed me."

Sandra was titillated by the idea and could imagine her grandmother as a younger woman bringing delight to her father in a time of need. She was quiet a long time, considering all the things she had learned.

"You don't think less of me, or your family, do you?" Nancy looked at her with a steady, calm countenance.

"No," Sandra said, looking up at her face. "I'm just in a bit of shock is all. It's not like I would have ever guessed something like this."

"Thank you dear, I'm glad to see you have an open heart." She patted Sandra's hands that were clasped in her lap. "Now, it's about time for the ceremony to start. Get you married off and you can become Sandra Wainwright."

A thought occurred to Sandra and she asked, "Did you know any of the Wainwrights?"

Nancy gave her a conspiratorial smile, "Oh, yes. They knew the Hidden Acres way."