Life in a Small New Hampshire Town Pt. 02

"Are you sure this is the right step for you?"

"First, you get to use your whole house. I really appreciate your finding me this job and letting me stay here. We both knew it was a temporary solution and the time has come for me to move on."

"But..."

"I think I know your objection. Shiloh's reputation might rub off on me. We've talked about it, and I can deal with it. To be very direct, Shiloh is not a lesbian and will not turn me into one. She is currently asexual. It's pretty clear she was assaulted by a male sometime in her past, but she won't discuss it. In private, she's really a warm person and is a very good mother to Sierra."

Susan visibly relaxed.

"You can share this with Uncle Joe, but it's probably best to keep it to yourselves. If people knew she was denying being a lesbian, that would confirm she was to certain people. She knows who she is, I know who I am. It's nobody else's business."

"You're right. You're always welcome back if it doesn't work out."

With that, I left.

Tuesday, the following week.

Life at Shiloh's was pleasant, but uneventful. We'd finish up what was necessary outside, clean-up, then have dinner. She was an excellent cook, drawing on and mixing many recipes from different ethnicities. Once Sierra was in bed, we'd often have a beer, a glass of wine, or iced tea; on the porch if the weather was nice. Today it started raining just as we finished cleaning up after dinner, so we were inside. I was admiring some of her photos.

"These really are quite good. Have you ever thought about selling prints?"

Shiloh looked thoughtful, almost pensive.

"I'll tell you a little about them, which really means I'll be sharing some of my life's history. This has to be strictly between us. As you have already figured out, I'm very protective of my privacy."

"Of course, Shiloh. I understand confidentiality. I hope I've never given you any reason to think otherwise."

Shiloh

"My grandparents lived on a commune in Guilford, Vermont, Total Loss Farm at Packer Corners, which was settled by some hippies in the late 1960's. It has never been exactly clear when they arrived, but my mother, Willow, was born there in 1970. She spent the first 12 years of her life in the rather untamed hippie culture of that era. By then, my mom had two younger siblings and my grandparents moved to Brattleboro to get 'real jobs and a more stable environment for the three kids. Mom, however, was always intrigued by the hippie culture and attended Marlboro College. At that time Marlboro could best be described as a hippie haven. She graduated with a degree in forestry, probably picked her degree to reflect her name.

I was born in '93. I have no idea who my dad is, nor do I think my mom knows. We moved multiple times while I was growing up. We eventually settled in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. My mom met a guy named Bob Fuller. They eventually moved in together, and in fact are still together. For all intents and purposes, Bob was my dad. He had a good job and provided well for the three of us. I attended and graduated from St. Johnsbury Academy. While there, I took a photography class, and was hooked. Bob bought me a Nikon DSLR and a couple of lenses. Photography has brought me great joy.

Like many 18-year old's, I wanted to get away from home. I went to college at Montana State in Bozeman. The tuition was affordable, and eventually I graduated with a degree in Environmental Horticultural Science, with a minor in Sustainability. You can probably figure out that many of these photos are from Montana. I came back east after graduation and settled here."

Chris

"Why New Hampshire?"

"I needed a change."

"There has to be more than that."

Silence on her part. Must be a touchy subject. We moved on to small talk, eventually retiring.

Thursday

Typical Thursday. I finished up lawn care at noonish, worked in the fields until supper time and went to my room to take a shower. That done, I returned downstairs. Rachel had already left; Sierra was in an active phase and Shiloh hadn't yet cleaned up.

"Would you mind watching her while I take a shower?"

"Not at all."

Shiloh left for her room. Sierra was learning to walk by holding on to the coffee table. Somehow, she stumbled, fell, and hit her forehead on the edge of the table. Loud wailing ensued. Shiloh came flying out of her bedroom, dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around her. She picked up Sierra, cradling her to her chest.

"What happened?"

I explained the fall.

"I think she was more frightened than hurt."

Shiloh sat on the chair opposite me, still holding Sierra tightly.

"It's okay little one. Mama's here."

She started singing 'Hush, Little Baby' and Sierra quieted right down listening to her mother's sing-song voice. Shiloh moved her away a bit and looked at her forehead.

"Do you want me to get some ice or anything?"

"No. I don't think there's even going to be a bruise."

Evidently, Sierra wanted to be back closer to her mom. She reached out for her mother, grabbing onto the towel instead, and pulling it off, leaving Shiloh's front completely exposed. I gasped at what I saw. There was a huge scar on the outside of her left breast, another that started above her belly button and ended in her pubic hair. A third scar started just below her hair and ran down the inside of her right thigh, almost to her knee. The fourth was on the inside of her right calf.

"Will you cuddle her while I finish my shower and get dressed?" she asked. She didn't wait for an answer, quickly handed me Sierra, and hurried out of the room.

Somehow, I remembered most of the words to 'Hush Little Baby' and sang it to her. She fell asleep in my arms. When Shiloh finished, she took her from me and put her in her bed. We went into the kitchen where the only conversation was specific to food prep and cooking. We ate and cleaned up in silence, studiously avoiding the elephant in the room.

Shiloh grabbed a bottle of red, two glasses, and headed for the living room. I followed. She sat on the couch, I on the chair opposite. She twisted off the screw top, poured both of us a drink. Again, silence reigned supreme. Shiloh looked like she was going to talk a couple of times, but hesitated. Nothing. It seemed best for me to remain quiet.

Finally: "Well, now you know why I always wear either pants or a long dress. It has nothing to do with being a hippie."

"Shiloh, you don't have say anything. I'm sorry I reacted like that. I... was surprised, shocked actually."

"I...I...I...was...raped... in Montana, the summer after my junior year. It was brutal. You've seen the scars, the physical ones."

I moved over, sat on the couch beside her, and hugged her. Tears were running down her face in a steady stream. I went to the kitchen, returning with a box of tissues. I hugged her again.

"I don't actually hate men, just one, and he's in jail for 25 to life, may he rot in hell. And I'm not even religious. The man hating is an act of self-protection. I'm afraid anyone who saw me naked would have your reaction. I couldn't deal with that, so I've made sure everyone knows I'm not available.

I was a summer intern at an environmental company near Bozeman. The guy who raped me was Richard Seaman, forever known to me as Dick Semen."

She laughed, but there was no mirth in it.

"He was 26 to my 21, and the CEO's son. Four of us, three men and I, were doing a remote assessment that required 4 nights in tents. Separate tents. This was my first assignment with him and he seemed nice enough until the last night. He started drinking heavily at supper. Around 11:00, he crept into my tent. I resisted, but he was both bigger and determined. After he finished, I managed to kick him in the balls, which enraged him. He pulled out a knife. You saw the result. My yelling woke the other two guys, who subdued him, restrained him, stopped my bleeding the best they could and rushed me to the hospital, 20 miles away. Fortunately, the cuts were mostly superficial. No major organs were damaged, and he didn't cut my face.

"He was arrested and convicted. The jury took less than an hour. His family was very wealthy, and I believe, were genuinely aghast by his behavior. They offered a very generous settlement, which I quickly accepted, in order to put the rape behind me. They are also paying child support and have already funded Sierra's college expenses."

I was stunned by this whole conversation, but the last bit completely shook me.

"You mean..."

"Yes. I wasn't very sexually active, used condoms when I was, so not on any birth control. Obviously, not a concern for Dick Semen. Initially I was so traumatized, that I didn't realize I was pregnant. The really weird thing is I truly love Sierra."

"That's obvious to anyone who has seen you together. Oh, Shiloh, I'm so, so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you? Are you seeing a counselor of any kind?"

"I did, weekly, throughout my senior year. The school insisted on it, as they had arranged the internship. Senior year was hell. I was the girl who was raped and became pregnant, who kept the baby. Everybody knew. Some were supportive, some avoided me, like my bad luck would contaminate them."

"Are you seeing any therapist here?"

"No. I came here to be where nobody knew me. I don't know who I could trust. Therefore, I haven't."

"I'm just a farm girl who didn't go to college, but I'm pretty sure holding all of that anger inside is not good for you. I could discretely ask my aunt for a reference. I'd probably have to tell her it was for you, but not why."

Shiloh didn't respond for several minutes.

I finally heard in a meek voice, "Okay."

"Chris, I have a huge favor to ask of you."

"Go ahead..."

"This has been really draining for me. Can you stay with me tonight? Please? I need someone to hold me."

"I like to think of you as a friend. Friends help friends in need. Of course, I will. If it helps you to relax, I can give your back, shoulders, neck and scalp a massage. I'm not a professional, but have had some training in massage therapy."

"I'd like that."

For the first time all evening I could see Shiloh relaxing. We did our normal bathroom routine, shut off the light, stripped down to our panties and got into bed together. Her back muscles were tight and knotty. I used all the techniques I knew and could feel the tightness ebb as she relaxed. Eventually, her breathing changed as she slipped into a peaceful sleep. I rolled over. I was both physically and emotionally exhausted. Sleep came quickly.

Friday

I woke up first, put on some coffee and went up to my room to dress. The day started pretty much like any other. But something was different between us, a new bond. I told Shiloh I needed a couple of hours off, but would be back in time to get ready for the Friday market.

I headed to Vienna to see Susan. After small talk, I explained what I needed for Shiloh. She referred me to Dr. Kate O'Sullivan. I called and actually got to speak to Dr. O'Sullivan. I said that I was calling to make an appointment for a friend who was a rape victim who had finally agreed that she needed help, mentioning Susan had referred me to her. I requested a Thursday afternoon or Friday morning appointment and told her I would be providing taxi service.

"This is a highly unusual way to do this, but rape cases demand special handling. I'll see your friend at 2:00 next Thursday."

Her tone and wording suggested she may believe I was the 'friend' needing help.

Wednesday

After dinner we sat out on the porch, enjoying some iced tea and the sunset.

"Tomorrow, you have an appointment at 2:00 with Dr. Kate O'Sullivan. I'll pick you up at 1:30. Chris's taxi service."

Initially, her face hardened as her defenses went up. Silence for a few minutes.

"That's why you needed time off on Friday."

"Yep. But you did agree, however reluctantly. We both know you need to face down and defeat these demons that haunt you. I'll support you however I can, even if I'm only your transportation facilitator."

"Transportation facilitator?"

"We both know this is a huge step for you, and how hard that first step will be. I'm only going to make sure you take the first one. The rest is up to you. I waited 'til tonight to tell you, so you'd have the shortest time to stress over it. In the meantime, if it helps you relax, I can give you another massage."

"I never thanked you for the last one. I needed someone with me that night. The massage was a bonus. Thanks."

We retired to her room. Events unfolded as they did last Thursday. Her tight muscles responded to the massage, her breathing slowed, she fell asleep as did I. Again, nothing sexual happened.

Thursday

I picked up a very nervous Shiloh, we arrived at Dr. O'Sullivan's office, and she filled out the inevitable paperwork. The door to the waiting room opened. An older woman, maybe late fifty's, with the look and demeanor of everyone's favorite grandmother, entered. If she was surprised to see two of us, she didn't show it. I rose.

"I'm Chris, the one who called you. This is my friend, Shiloh Roberts. Shiloh, I'll be outside when you're finished."

"Shiloh, I'm Kate. I'm so happy you decided to visit with me today. Please join me in my sitting room."

I went to the restaurant across the street to get a coffee.

"Hi, Olivia. I'd like a coffee to-go."

"Chris! Sure thing. What brings you to town?"

"Some personal business to attend to on my afternoon off."

I paid for the coffee and enjoyed sipping it while luxuriating in one of the rocking chairs on Kate's front porch. Shiloh's session lasted close to two hours. Surprisingly, she didn't appear stressed out. Rather than engage in small talk, she turned on the radio and found one the New Hampshire Public Radio Classical stations. No conversation on the ride home, just music.

Later that evening.

Olivia

"Derrick, Chris came in this afternoon to get a to-go coffee."

"We all like our coffee."

"She said she had some 'personal business' to attend to. She went over and sat on Dr. Kate's front porch. Just as I was getting ready to leave, Shiloh came out and they left together."

"Strange. But it's probably best not to speculate too much. Not our business."

"Agreed. But unusual."

A few weeks later.

Chris

Shiloh had twice a week session with Dr. Kate. Initially, I provided taxi service. It involved a bit of schedule juggling on Tuesdays, but I made it work. Eventually, Shiloh said she was okay to drive herself. Progress.

As it was raining, we were sitting in the living room. Sierra was asleep.

"Kate wants me to get out in public a little, interact with people on a limited basis."

This was the first time she had brought up anything about her therapy sessions.

"You could do some of the counter work at the markets. I'd be right there beside you. By now I'm familiar with all the regulars. Most are quite nice. I'll take over if you're tired, if I recognize a difficult customer, or a new one."

"You're as good for me as Kate. Thanks. She also wants me to pick up my photography again. She's encouraging me to do something I've enjoyed in the past."

The next day.

I again stopped for coffee.

"Olivia, do you have a photographer for your wedding?"

"No. Derrick and I discussed it, but decided at our age and the expense involved, we'd forego it. Besides, everyone has their smartphones. I'm sure we'll have plenty."

"I have a friend, not a professional, who has a natural eye for composition, who's getting back into photography. My friend might be interested in shooting your wedding just for the cost of the prints."

"I'm sure Derrick would agree."

I hoped Shiloh would.

That evening.

"I have a proposition for you that incorporates the two things we discussed last night, that Kate suggested you engage in."

"Do tell."

"Olivia and Derrick's wedding is coming up. I spoke with her today. No photographer. She was receptive to you, identified as a friend, being theirs."

"That's too much, too soon."

"Think about it. First, if it wasn't for Derrick, I never would have met you and you wouldn't be on the road to recovery." I know, guilt tripping on my part. "And, unlike Dickhead, Derrick is a genuinely nice person. He treats Olivia with respect and love; me, I just get the respect treatment. Second, we have a few weeks of farmers markets for you to get used to interacting with people before the wedding. Third, wedding photographers, by their very nature, blend into the background. No one's going to approach you while you are working. Fourth, I'll be there. Since I won't have a 'plus one", I'll be available to run interference for you if necessary. You know that I'm well-muscled and I have had some self-defense training. I haven't had to use it, but will if the situation presents itself. Knowing Olivia, Derrick and their friends, I think there is a very low probability to need those skills"

"Let me discuss this with Kate."

She did. Kate was in favor. Shiloh slowly gained confidence interacting with market customers over the weeks prior to the wedding. Thus, Shiloh became the official photographer for the wedding.

Back to the wedding.

Derrick

Five o'clock arrived. Guests were all seated. Mark signaled me to come up front. He nodded to Susan, who opened the door for Olivia's entrance. The DJ played the Wedding March. I was stunned. I've seen Olivia in her waitress's uniform, in jeans, in shorts, in dresses, but never as beautiful as today. Her dress was pale green, patterned with forest green leaves and white flowers. It was long, flowing nearly to her ankles. Three quarter length sleeves flared out a bit mid forearm, slightly puffy shoulders with a surprisingly low-cut front. It was appropriately tight in all the right places and flared out enough at the hem to facilitate easy walking or dancing.

Frances had highlighted her hair earlier in the week. I'm a guy, and won't even attempt to describe her style. I later learned that it is called a 'voluminous twisted chignon". The effect was perfect. Olivia generally didn't wear make-up. When we'd go out, she applied only enough to enhance her natural beauty. Today, she was stunning. Words are simply inadequate to describe my soon to be wife.

The ceremony proceeded fairly quickly, we spoke our vows, Mark pronounced us man and wife.

"You may kiss the bride."

I stepped closer to Olivia and leaned towards her when multiple alarms went off at the same time. Pandemonium broke out as a dozen or so people ran towards their cars and trucks. I saw Phil exchange words with John as John headed for his truck. Flashing red lights came on and sirens were activated as the vehicles hit the town road.

Fire protection in small rural towns is typically provided by volunteer fire departments. Each firefighter carries a radio, 24/7, that goes off when calls come in. Everyone drops what they're doing and scrambles. There are certain things that strengthen the fabric that is a small-town community. Certainly, the volunteer fire department is one of the important ones.

I noticed that Shiloh had been busy taking pictures as the firefighters left.

Phil approached me and said, "John's going to update me when they know what they're up against. If you agree, Sherry and I will pause dinner until they return, if it's not a major event."

"Thanks, Phil."

I turned to Olivia. "You heard?"

"Yes. In the meantime, you still owe me a kiss. Gently. My make-up needs to last the evening."

"You are so beautiful. You remind me of that old Joe Cocker song."