Interesting Consequences

"What a sweet girl." That's how almost anyone in my home town would have responded had you mentioned my name. Looking back I suppose I was the embodiment of the innocent, fresh-faced and naïve teen-aged girl. In some strange way I guess I knew that and embraced the role with a flourish, always smiling, always sweet, always sickeningly cute to be honest.

I was cute though, physically I mean and not just as a projection of my personality. I got plenty of attention from people, guys especially, who didn't even know me beyond what they saw. I was blonde, fair, and enjoyed a naturally graceful build that only youth can provide. I had always been told I was pretty but had only recently begun to see it myself as the little girl freckles faded and the face and body in the mirror became more womanly seemingly overnight with my eighteenth birthday. I dressed conservatively, my reputation was a concern after all, but as most teen-aged girls I made sure what I wore was parent-acceptable but with an eye toward a flattering fit. My jeans were a bit more than snug in other words and my blouses selected to accentuate a developing bust line. The result was that I had no shortage of admirers, but as appropriate for a well-bred church-going girl, I enjoyed their pursuit but maintained their distance.

I was popular too, involved in so many activities that one could hardly attend anything in our little town without bumping into me. It was exhausting but all part of the role I was determined to play out. Student council, FFA, Glee Club, theatre, tennis and a multitude of church functions kept me constantly on the go and in the public eye, and yes I had been Harvest Queen my Sophomore and Junior year back to back. Prom Queen had so far eluded me but as a Senior there was already talk that I was one to watch.

I'm telling you all of this not to brag, none of it means a thing now so many years later, but to introduce you to the girl I was, to give you some understanding of the girl of that summer, thirteen years ago. Without that understanding the situation and events I'm about to relate won't have the impact they should. Keeping a firm grasp of who that girl was is critical in appreciating fully the events of July 18, 2001.

To tell that story however I have to back up to almost a month before. I had spent a Sunday morning, as I always did, working at our church's nursery, chasing toddlers while their parents sang their praises. As the service ended and the expected throng of parents began to file in for their offspring, Mr. Lowery, my father's boss, appeared in my room. I was confused at first as the old man didn't have any children or grandchildren that I could recall and although not really a close friend of the family, my father had worked for him for more than 5 years and I thought I knew him pretty well.

As it turned out he wasn't looking for a child, but for me. We exchanged a few pleasantries while I bounced a 3-year old on my knee and finally he explained the purpose of his visit. He and his wife were to attend a function, a conference or something, and would be out of town for several days. His wife was uneasy about leaving their place unattended and had asked him to arrange for a house sitter. When he had mentioned this to my father, good ole' Dad had offered me up.

Inwardly I frowned at first, house sitting? It was summer and besides my regular activities and a part time job as a waitress at a local café I still tried to have a social life when I could. This would mean neglecting plans I had been looking forward to for weeks, a trip to a nearby lake and sparking the attention of a certain boy among them. I didn't have a regular boyfriend but was seriously considering giving this particularly cute boy the chance, for the summer anyway. Keeping the boys at a distance was a challenge, and certainly kept my father happy but could be misconceived as just being stuck-up, or worse. A regular guy for the summer would maintain my reputation and keep me from sitting home alone when I wasn't working, or worse having to pay my own way when I went out! The lake was going to provide the perfect opportunity to turn on the charm and let my guard down a little, just enough to rope the cutie in.

In comparison, spending a week stuck in some stuffy house feeding somebody's dog and watching game shows did not sound like fun at all. My attitude changed instantly however when the old man filled in the details. He promised Fifty dollars a day, two-hundred and fifty dollars for the week, and of course use of their pool and hot tub. I bubbled up with my typical girly enthusiasm and agreed instantly. It would probably be boring but I would end the week with a tan, a purse full of cash and a good story about being cooped up all week to gain the sympathy of that soon-to-be boyfriend.

The Lowery's were rich, not of the extreme West Texas oil variety, but were more than just well off. I know he owned several businesses like the one my father managed for him and he had property all over town. He was a big contributor too, presenting a check for ten thousand dollars towards our high school's new athletic track a year before. Their name came up every year during charity drives and Mr. Lowery had been declared the Grand Marshal of our Christmas parade that past December. I was a cute little fixture around town while Mr. Lowery was a power. It was a strange and unfortunate set of circumstances that would bring the two of us together.

My parents were thrilled with the opportunity when I told them about it during lunch after church, my father especially perking up at the chance to get in good with his boss. Dad had been the manager of West Transit for several years but there had been talk about him stepping up to regional manager. Mr. Lowery had built three or four new offices in our part of the state and it would be a big deal for Dad and our family. We were solidly entrenched in what my economics teacher called the 'American Middle Class', which basically meant we weren't poor enough to qualify for financial assistance but not rich enough to live without worrying. My father's promotion to manager had helped but my older brother's college tuition and my plans to attend the university as well were a burden. Regional Manager would be a step toward "easy street", or so my father promised.

Monday morning I arrived bright and early at the Lowery's place. I had been there before for a couple company Christmas parties but it was still impressive. The big stucco ranch house stood a good half mile from the main road in a rural stretch of housing between the city limits and the oil fields. The neighbors looked like they were doing pretty well too, enough to keep a few acres between their elaborate homes but the Lowery place stood out for sure. It had that western ranch look to it, all woodwork and carved stone, but it was a modern building with all the bells and whistles. An intercom would get you buzzed in at the gate, there were several satellite dishes on the roof and a windmill provided power from its perch in the pasture nearby. The manicured lawn was green despite the heat and shaded by dozens of beautiful shrubs and towering trees. I could only dream of living in a place like that someday.

Mrs. Lowery let me in with a sincere hug and thanked me repeatedly for agreeing to the arrangement. My Dad's boss made an appearance and shook my hand but was busy on the phone during the next half an hour while his wife gave me a tour, explaining her many, many concerns and her expectations on my stay. In the end I was glad to see them finally just go, her big Lexus packed like they would be gone for a month speeding down the drive in a cloud of caliche dust.

I had a few 'chores' that I would have to keep up during the week but otherwise I prepared for a life of leisure. Thinking back now I would love to have the opportunity again, to lie around and soak up some sun, watch a few movies on a huge plasma screen, make good use of a fully stocked freezer of expensive steaks and bask in a whirlpool bathtub the size of my pickup bed. At the time however, and at that age, it was pretty lame stuff. The boredom would cost me, cost me plenty.

So I took a swim first, the dust of their leaving barely settling before I was in my suit and diving in. It was a huge, beautiful pool complete with rock ornamentation and little falls at one end with a hot tub adjoining. Afterward I tanned for a while, lying on a cushy lounger and listening to a stereo system piped out from the house. Lunch was next and then some television and then more swimming. It was great for a few hours but by mid-afternoon I was already beginning to regret my stay.

"A whole week?" I questioned aloud while standing in their massive kitchen with a damp towel and a soda in my hands. I had made several promises that I was already regretting too. I promised to not have anybody over, no friends, just family. I wasn't to touch their liquor cabinet, not that I would have anyway. Mr. Lowery's cars, several vintage and really expensive models locked up in the garage, were off limits and I was forbidden to rent anything inappropriate on their satellite. "Right! As if." I thought, actually laughing at the thought of me renting porn or something.

Now don't misunderstand, I wasn't a complete prude, I was maturing normally of course and had my own little private teen-age curiosities, but was pretty darn innocent for the most part. I had made out, sometimes a bit heavier than intended, with a couple of school boys but it had never progressed beyond kissing, groping and panting. I knew some of my friends had done much more and was even criticized by them for my reluctance. A few had tagged me 'preacher girl' for a bit last school year but it honestly wasn't religion that had kept me so chaste. Instead it was a kind of prissy pride. I understood I had something special to share and I would only be able to really share it like that once. I didn't mind waiting, besides, it was kind of fun to see the boys paw and beg for something and know they didn't have a chance of getting it. It would have been cruel had I acted like some other girls that used that power in a slutty, teasing way but I wasn't like that. I never teased, never gave the slightest hope to those I dated, but I couldn't help what they thought on their own or how hard they tried could I?

Porn though? Not even a consideration. I was curious sure but the idea of someone, anyone, finding out I had watched something vulgar like that was mortifying, enough to dampen whatever curiosity I might experience. Besides, if I had to be completely honest with myself, that stuff embarrassed me. Call me a goody-goody but anything approaching open sexuality was still pretty uncomfortable for me, I laughed if exposed to it but inwardly felt like closing my eyes and blushing.

So with no friends, no booze, and no porn, just what was I going to do? I laughed at phrasing the question in such an out of character way and chided myself for being such a 'priss'. So I set out to find something to occupy my time and did manage to keep busy the rest of the evening but wound up settling into bed early after a long and completely boring phone conversation with my mother. "What a wild start to a long week." I thought contemptuously as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I was awakened by a call from Tracy my closest friend who was even then preparing to meet the others for the lake trip I had been so looking forward to. She razzed me hard on not being able to come but I played up the money and luxuries I was enjoying, not wanting to sound like a whiney kid. She saw through my bluff though, she always did, and promised as she signed off sympathetically not to have too much fun without me and to keep her hands off my boyfriend. I stared hard at the phone open mouthed. I hadn't even mentioned the boy before but somehow she had guessed my intentions! We were like that, closer than sisters. I laughed and told her not to worry that he would be mine whenever I felt like it and hung up giggling, feeling miserable.

By ten o'clock I was going crazy, lying on an inflatable raft in the middle of that huge pool all I could think about was the lake and what I was missing out on. Desperate to just get busy doing something I made the hasty decision to go exploring. Yes, Mrs. Lowery had given me the tour but an "open the door and point" version only. It was a big house and although I knew it wasn't appropriate at all, I needed a distraction and some snooping might just be thing. I dried off, slipped a pair of shorts on over my suit and got started.

The place was beautiful, lots of expensive furnishings, artwork and antiques and it was immaculately decorated of course but pretty darned uninteresting too. That is until I checked out Mr. Lowery's office. It was locked when I first came across the door which instantly peaked my curiosity. I half imagined one of those dungeon rooms in there with whips and hand cuffs hanging from the wall and had a fit of giggles when the image of Mr. Lowery being spanked by Mrs. Lowery in a latex suit popped into my head. I had heard about rich people being into such things. I was mildly disappointed though when after finally finding a spare key hanging on a ring in the den I discovered a plain old office instead.

The computer was protected with a password, his desk was completely locked (no spare key there) and the shelves were full of incredibly boring ledgers and books on military history. I was about to turn my back on the useless discovery when I noticed a little gym bag, tucked back behind a filing cabinet in the corner. It was a plain, uninteresting red bag with a familiar logo on the side but I was curious. Mr. Lowery was a fairly fit old guy I supposed but not the gym type at all. What was in there?

Money! When I pulled back the zipper I found myself staring at more cash than I ever seen in my life. It was stuffed with fat little rolls of rubber-band bound money, all denominations. Twenties, fifties and even hundreds were all jammed into that little bag to bursting. There were other wads of mixed bills too, tens and fives and singles all rolled up together.

"What the heck?" I asked myself as I stood there looking down at what I guessed was tens of thousands of dollars, maybe more. It seemed stupid to keep this kind of money lying around the house. Rich people never paid in cash anyway, did they? I sat down and fingered through the rolls again, shaking my head. There was so much money just carelessly lying there in a bag when so many other people are struggling just to get by. We were struggling to get by I thought, I was struggling! I had to work through the school year and the summer when others were out having a blast. It wasn't fair, this was probably some secret little mad-money stash Mr. Lowery kept from his wife, to waste on who knows what. I could imagine him blowing it on one more car for his collection or another thousand dollar golf club or something. It was 'chump change' to him. Snapping off the rubber band on one of the mixed rolls, I counted the bills.

There was $2700 spread out on the floor in front of me, just one little roll amid so many had enough cash to make a huge difference in my life. I clicked through a mental checklist; new boots, jeans, that purse I had been looking at, a real leather jacket, gas in my truck for months, and the new cell phone I had been begging for. Of course I couldn't just go out and buy these things, I would have to be careful, patient, devious, coming up with believable explanations as to how I was making these purchases without revealing my sudden windfall but I bet I could do it. I stopped, suddenly shocked at what I had been thinking. Without knowing it I was already planning how to use this money, money I hadn't even stolen yet. But I was going to wasn't I? I had made that decision in the first few minutes after opening the bag. Stealing, really? I hadn't been brought up that way and I couldn't imagine myself ever doing something like that, not really.

So I left the bag alone, went back to wandering and swimming and snacking and dozing in front of the television but I came back to it that night, and the next day, and the next evening and again the day after that. I kept telling myself I would come to my senses, finally beat back the temptation but each time I looked at that carelessly stored bundle of wealth it just got worse. By Thursday of that week I had made up my mind. That one fat little roll of cash was coming home with me.

My parents had come by a couple times to visit briefly during the week. They were just checking on me of course and under different circumstances I suppose I would have been grateful for the company but when they showed up Thursday I was uncomfortable the whole time, wishing every second they would just go. The money was still there in the office but somehow I thought they would sense my decision, clue in somehow that their sweet little daughter was a thief, or about to be. I hated keeping things from my parents but this was different, this was big. The guilt was overwhelming though and I honestly felt they would have to notice something was wrong.

They didn't though, and they eventually left, congratulating me on almost finishing my job. The Lowery's were to return the next day and with them their gratitude and my check. My Dad gave me a big hug before he left, looking eye to eye with me and exclaiming how proud he was of me and how much this might mean to the family's future. I smiled and told him it was no big deal, returning his hug ashamedly. I waved from the porch as they drove off, grateful that their own cloud of caliche dust would mask the guilty tears falling down my face. I spun and walked smartly back into the house, a surge of willpower returning along with some token of the honor I had temporarily let greed displace. The money would stay right where it was. That was that!

But it wasn't that and it didn't stay. Early that next morning, after taking some time to tidy up the place in preparation for the Lowery's return, I shoved that little, seemingly unnoticeable, roll of money deep into the corner of my purse wrapped up in a bundle of tissues. I spent the next couple of hours rehearsing what I would say, reinforcing my composure, and promising myself I would give no clue whatsoever that anything was wrong at all when the owners came home.

I was brilliant. I had the advantage of having been active in theatre for several years and I played the part I needed to play. I was a terrible liar when confronted but I could hold a straight face if not under too much suspicion. I was the ever-so-grateful little teenager, so eager to please and concerned about every little detail, praying that they were happy with the job I had done for them. I played the part so well in fact that after a few minutes Mr. Lowery actually started hedging me to leave, my obsessions about how little food I had eaten, the condition of the pool, my keeping the place clean and my repeated appreciation reaching annoying levels. His wife was gracious however and it raised a little lump in my throat when she made her husband add an extra $50 to the amount they owed me. She hugged me in a motherly sort of way and I almost choked when she added, "You're like the daughter we never had hun." I left their home feeling relieved but guiltier than I had my entire life.

Over the next few days I reconsidered what I had done constantly. I actually brought myself to the decision of returning the money at one point before considering the horrible implications in it. Even a commendable act of conscience at this point could be disastrous. They might forgive me, and then again they might not. Unlike when you're a child, saying "I'm sorry" does not make everything better. This was a big deal, a "go to jail" kind of deal, not to mention my destroyed reputation and the affect on my family. There was no going back, I had made my decision and I had to live with it. The trick was now to not make a mistake, play it very cool and very smart. I would sit on the money till winter at least. The guilt would surely fade, given time.