Bones Fic: In the Trenches, ch 10
Chapter 10: Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Warnings: physical abuse, psychological abuse
Chapter 9
Chapter 10: Don't Ask, Don't Tell
***
***
For the first time since she arrived, there was art homework to do that Friday. Temperance was fascinated by this unit's focus on the concepts of silhouettes and negative space. All the way home on the bus she had contemplated the ramifications of these art concepts on her staining project while simultaneously planning the three drawings using negative space--and their figure-ground reversals--that she would do this weekend.
After she hung her jacket in the front closet, Temperance went straight to her room and sketched images she could enlarge into the assignment.
She wouldn't have believed it if someone had said to her that a pencil had drawn itself across the page, but she barely recognized what she was doing. There on the page, emerging from the scratching of her graphite pencil, was the shape of a car driving away.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered Russ glancing back at her just once before he'd been gone and she'd been alone. She turned to a new sheet in her sketchbook and filled the page with a skeleton, drawn from memory--forcing her thoughts away from the past and directing them into the future.
A future that would revolve around science rather than emotion.
She was coloring in the bone shapes when Sarah came into the room. "Temperance? It's time to leave for devotional."
"All right." But she kept coloring.
Sarah stood so near Temperance could feel the warmth where their legs almost touched. "What are you doing?" the girl asked.
"Art homework. I'm almost done."
Sarah squirmed. "We shouldn't keep daddy waiting."
Temperance stared at her work and her pencil slowed. Nodding, she set her sketchbook aside then followed Sarah.
Once everyone got to the youth minister's house, the teenagers began "devo" with sharing of needs and a prayer circle. Temperance remained mostly silent at these gatherings, but John or Sarah never failed to make sure prayers were said for Temperance's parents to be found safely, and she was both touched and annoyed. If there were some all-powerful deity, it certainly wasn't responding to the group request. Still, she recognized that it was kindness that drove John and Sarah, even though she was uncomfortable with them revealing her situation.
Tonight was no different, and teenagers asked for prayers for their friends, for sick family, for fighting parents, for help on tests. Temperance clenched her jaw to stop herself from pointing out that, instead of asking for divine intervention, the girl should try studying.
These beliefs made no sense to her. Clear, scientific theory and fact explained the material world. These teens and the Davises found comfort in the idea that someone or something was in charge, and that they could ask that entity for things. But their prayer was a simple demonstration of the validity of operant conditioning with variable reinforcement. Temperance derived comfort from knowledge, but these teens' actions were based not on knowledge. Their avoidance of knowledge was a displacement of responsibility, their faith akin to a belief in magic or superpowers.
"And I want us to pray not only for Temperance's parents, but for her to overcome her barriers to belief."
Sarah's comment snapped her out of her reverie, and Temperance frowned.
Sarah, next to her on the floor, had turned so she was looking Temperance straight in the eyes. Temperance found she couldn't look away as Sarah spoke. "I'm sorry, Temperance, but I don't want to see you fight with my dad anymore, or say that God isn't real. He's here, with us all, and He loves you. We love you too, and you're...well, you're incredible." Sarah took Temperance's hand in both of hers. "I want to see you in Heaven when I get there."
Temperance blinked. "Excuse me?"
John, who rarely said anything directly to her, spoke up. "Jesus died for you. Just like he did for all of us. Your disbelief spits in his face, devalues his sacrifice. But, more important, it puts your soul at risk. I've seen you with Joseph and Rachel. I know you have a kind heart, but it is often hidden behind your pride. If you're not careful, that'll be your downfall."
The group's young leader, Dan, held out a hand, and everyone turned toward him. His red hair was neatly combed to the side, and his equally-young wife held his other hand. It was their small house where everyone gathered and sat on the floor or crowed onto the mismatched furniture each week. Dan said, "If no one else has anything to add, let's begin our prayer."
The teens bowed their heads. Some folded their hands, and some raised palms toward the ceiling. Temperance's face was still heated, and she sat motionless against the sofa.
Dan's voice rumbled richly as he began, "Our most kind and loving Father, we come to you through Jesus your Son with these concerns heavy on our minds and hearts. We hope first that you will help Temperance come to accept your presence and your Word, that you will open her heart so she may hear and feel your love for her."
It was Ruth, the girl sitting next to her, who touched Temperance first. Temperance tried to shrug away the arm Ruth slung around her shoulders, but she couldn't with Sarah holding her hand.
Sarah shifted to face Temperance so they were knee-to-knee sitting cross-legged. Sarah took Temperance's other hand and brought both up to her own bowed forehead. Temperance tried to tug away, but Sarah held tight.
Temperance was squirming, trying to slip away. Then John scooted nearer and laid a hand on her knee. Lucas and Debbie, sitting on the sofa behind her and Sarah, put their hands on her head. She couldn't move without moving one of them.
She looked from one to the next as their lips moved under their tightly-closed eyes. Her heart pounded, and she began to shake. If she didn't make a scene, she couldn't get away. Mr. Davis had made it clear that church activities required perfect behavior. If she defied him, he might hit her again. He might have her removed from the Davis home. She could end up anywhere, in any school.
Her breathing grew shallow and she fought a desperate urge to shove the teens' hands away. To elbow, kick, fight her way free.
Dan was still speaking, and she could hear little murmurs from the teens. "Please give her the strength and humility to overcome her prideful self-reliance and accept the help and support that we and others stand ready to offer. Help her to accept that thinking too highly of her own capabilities will only drive others away and leave her lonely."
They thought she was the cause of her own loneliness.
At that, tears pricked at her eyes again. She tried to wriggle away, but there were too many kids. Too many, too close.
There was nowhere to go.
"Stop." She whispered, but Sarah gripped her hands more tightly, and the others shifted even closer. She was trapped against the couch.
John patted her knee and squeezed it tighter, "Lord, please help Temperance to cast aside her resistance to your love and forgiveness. Help her to open her heart to the beauty of your all-encompassing joy that she may know that joy. Help her to overcome her disbelief and find faith in more than that which she can see and measure."
"Dearest Lord," Sarah joined in, "I beg you to show Temperance the way to a relationship with you and to let her see the truth that you are the one true God of the universe. Help her see the love and truths my parents are offering her, and to see that we all love her and want her to be saved and happy." Sarah kissed the fingers on both of Temperance's hands and held them to her damp cheeks.
"Stop. Please stop," Temperance begged, though her voice came out only as a whimper. There was nowhere to go, and she was crying. She wanted to go. She wanted to be where no one would see her. Where no one would touch her. Her shoulders shuddered with her ragged breaths.
"God, show Temperance how lucky she is that the Davises took her in when she was but an orphan in the world. Help her repay that generosity by responding to the opportunity to for her soul to be saved." Mark's voice, pompous and self-righteous as it always was. "Help her to see that heathen beliefs are wrong in your sight."
Matt laid a hand on her other knee, and although she shrank back, he patted it, saying, "Help us to show Temperance that she is loved and welcomed here."
"Please let these tears be a sign that your grace is doing its work in Temperance's life and heart," Ruth said.
They continued with prayers for other issues, and Temperance's muscles ached with stored tension. She wished she believed, or believed at least in invisibility, or some kind of ability to wish herself somewhere else. She continued shaking and crying, gasping for air and breathing through her mouth to try and avoid all-out sobs.
They continued with prayers for other issues, but Temperance barely heard a word. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, curling into herself while she fought for control. But she couldn't stop shaking, and her breath came in short, harsh gasps despite her best efforts.
She just wanted it to be over.
Please. Just let it be over.
"We hope this is only the beginning of Temperance's walk with you." The youth leader had finally picked up the prayer and, after a pat or squeeze, the other teens let go of her, except for Sarah. "We lay all these things in your hands, in the name of your son Jesus, through whom we pray, amen."
"Amen" echoed around the room.
Sarah released Temperance's hands and flung her arms around her neck. "I love you, Temperance."
Temperance stared though tears at all the expectant faces, then leapt to her feet and fled the room. In the bathroom she locked the door and let the water run while she sat on the toilet, holding a cold washcloth to her eyes as she sobbed in a way she hadn't in all the months since her parents had not come home.
When the sobs quieted, her face was swollen, her eyes dry and scratchy, and her head ached. Her watch told her they'd been at the devotional for over an hour, which meant that it should be nearly over...or, at least, it should be snack time.
When she turned off the water's sound camouflage, she heard singing and waited, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow in measured breaths.
The group stopped singing, and there was silence for a couple of minutes, then the clusters of people chatting and snacking. Temperance flushed the toilet and walked back out. She kept quiet and to the side, smiling a small, fragile-feeling smile at each person who greeted her. She was surprised--but grateful--that they didn't make a fuss over her or call attention to her previous display.
She ate a brownie that Ruth had baked, drank a small cup of 7-Up, and accepted goodbye hugs from two of them when Mr. Davis arrived to get them.
"Daddy! Daddy, you won't believe what happened!" Sarah enthused as they climbed into the car. "At devo tonight we prayed for Temperance and laid hands on her, and she was filled with the Lord!"
"Is that so?"
"She shook and cried and everything!"
Temperance cringed.
"I think God and the Spirit started working in her tonight," John said. His voice was steady and calm again.
Mr. Davis caught Temperance's eye in the rear view mirror. She met his gaze steadily until he looked away. When they got home John and Sarah headed to their rooms, but Temperance stayed in the entry way with Mr. Davis. He looked tired.
After a long moment where they stared at each other, Mr. Davis said, "I appreciate that you didn't argue with John and Sarah in the car."
"What good would it do? They believe it, and it makes them happy."
Mr. Davis nodded. "Still, it's unlike you not to correct a misunderstanding."
He thought she was prideful too. And, apparently, insensitive as well. "Mr. Davis, I'm grateful your family has made a place for me. But we both know that I'll never fit, and you'll never be able to accept me." She trembled, but took a careful breath, hoping to steady her voice. "May I ask you...please, sir, could you not send me away until the end of the school year? I'll try to keep silent, try not to disrupt your lives, but I need to do well in school, and--"
"Yes, Temperance. Of course you can. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you have need. We won't give up hope that you'll seek the truth in earnest." He rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment, then walked away.
***
Temperance stared at the fried-egg poster emblazoned with "This is Your Brain on Drugs" that hung on the bulletin board. Mrs. Dougherty shared the office with the school nurse and psychologist. It was drab, the furniture was battered, and it smelled of antiseptic.
"I think you're making a mistake. The Davises are good people."
Temperance's lip curled as it always did when Mrs. Dougherty spoke to her. The woman was condescending.
"They do care about you. I don't think it's in your best interests to move again." Mrs. Dougherty leaned forward. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." Keeping her answers short seemed to reduce the length of these meetings.
"I'll start looking then. But, Temperance, you really need to try and fit in somewhere--"
"I don't fit in here! They...they want to brainwash me into believing in imaginary beings."
The social worker's head jerked up from the notes she was scribbling. "I beg your pardon?"
"They don't accept basic scientific fact. They insist that women should be 'in submission' to men, as if men are inherently wiser, more intelligent and more competent--"
"The Davises are devoutly religious, yes, but..." Mrs. Dougherty's legs were crossed, and she bounced the dangling foot rhythmically. When she continued, her tone was wary. "Temperance...you haven't been saying these things to them like this, have you?"
She stared at Mrs. Dougherty, who always seemed to have the same shape to her brown hair and always seemed to wear the same style suit and the same white blouse with a bow at the neck. The past three months flickered through her mind--being forced to go to church, being expected to believe, the horror when she didn't. The children crying, begging her not to fight, Sarah worrying Temperance would go to hell, the teens laying hands on her. Being trapped, being yelled at and slapped and called blasphemous.
"They said I was insubordinate, that...they..." She sounded defensive. She knew she did. And it made her angry, because she’d meant to sound calm and assertive.
Mrs. Dougherty sighed. "Temperance, we talked about this last time. You have to interact with people, talk to them, and share with them. Part of that is accepting that different people believe different things--"
"I know that! My father and I visited various places of worship, but the Davises called that heretical and said I was going to hell if I didn't change myself." Temperance shifted in the plastic chair and wondered absently what comments her classmates would make about her latest "confidential" visit down here.
"Temperance," Mrs. Dougherty's voice softened and slowed. She still used Temperance's name too often and spoke with deliberation as if Temperance were a slow-witted young child. "Did you think maybe that was just their way of trying to help you learn to cope with different people, of guiding you into fitting into their family?"
Temperance shook her head. She was certain that wasn't what they'd been saying or doing, but she couldn't think of a way to express that, and Mrs. Dougherty seemed to have decided already that she wasn't trying hard enough to learn skills it seemed no one would explain.
"You may not see it, Temperance, but the Davises' affection for you is at the root of their desire to share their religion. Rejecting that out of hand--"
"I tried! I talked. I shared. You don't know how..." she trailed off as Mrs. Dougherty frowned. "You don't know," she whispered.
"I know it's hard. You've had a lot of change in a very short time." The woman laid a hand over Temperance's tightly-clasped ones on the desk. "That's one of the reasons I think you would do better staying in the same placement. At least it's familiar."
"Mr. Davis doesn't want me to stay."
Mrs. Dougherty's hand tightened around hers. "He hasn't said any such thing to me."
"He's humoring his wife, but he thinks I'm a bad influence." Temperance took a deep breath and mumbled, "Especially on the children."
"You're just bound and determined to see them as bad, aren't you?" Mrs. Dougherty tsked and shook her head.
Her head jerked up. "No!" It was the other way around. "I just...it's not working."
"Well, I'll talk to the Davises and get their perspective since they haven't come to me with any complaints. But, Temperance, you have to understand that nowhere you go will be like living with your own family was."
"I understand that," Temperance whispered, slipping her hands away from the woman's grasp.
Mrs. Dougherty's voice hardened slightly. "This will be your third placement in six months, you realize. There is no over-abundance of homes for teenagers, and the more often you move, the more difficult it will be to find a placement for you." She paused. "Temperance?"
Temperance's head felt heavy as she lifted it to look at Mrs. Dougherty.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, ma'am," she replied, managing a tiny voice instead of a whisper.
"All right. Call me if you change your mind."
She didn't call.
For weeks after school let out Temperance pushed the little ones in the backyard swings and read to them, played board games with the others, and kept herself distant otherwise. She spent hours in her room tackling the textbooks and readings she'd assigned herself as summer learning projects.
It was in the fourth week of summer that Mrs. Davis told her Mrs. Dougherty had confirmed her move.
"We'll be sorry to see you go, Temperance," Mrs. Davis said, beginning to reach out and then dropping her hand as Temperance evaded her touch.
"Go??" wailed a voice behind them.
Temperance turned to see a stricken face with wide eyes. "Joseph, I'm sorry--"
"NO! No, you can't!!" He turned and ran. "Lydia! Sarah! Tell Temperance she can't leave!"
"I'm sorry," Temperance said to Mrs. Davis. She closed her ears to Joseph's cries and walked quickly out of the house, picking up speed until she was jogging down the sidewalk. She ran for over two hours before she found herself, dripping in sweat and out of breath, back in front of the Davis's house, where only the porch light shone to greet her.
***
Chapter 11
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 26 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays so that the story will finish posting the week Bones comes back.
Author's Notes
jsq, b1uemorpho. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Warnings: physical abuse, psychological abuse
Chapter 9
Chapter 10: Don't Ask, Don't Tell
***
***
For the first time since she arrived, there was art homework to do that Friday. Temperance was fascinated by this unit's focus on the concepts of silhouettes and negative space. All the way home on the bus she had contemplated the ramifications of these art concepts on her staining project while simultaneously planning the three drawings using negative space--and their figure-ground reversals--that she would do this weekend.
After she hung her jacket in the front closet, Temperance went straight to her room and sketched images she could enlarge into the assignment.
She wouldn't have believed it if someone had said to her that a pencil had drawn itself across the page, but she barely recognized what she was doing. There on the page, emerging from the scratching of her graphite pencil, was the shape of a car driving away.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered Russ glancing back at her just once before he'd been gone and she'd been alone. She turned to a new sheet in her sketchbook and filled the page with a skeleton, drawn from memory--forcing her thoughts away from the past and directing them into the future.
A future that would revolve around science rather than emotion.
She was coloring in the bone shapes when Sarah came into the room. "Temperance? It's time to leave for devotional."
"All right." But she kept coloring.
Sarah stood so near Temperance could feel the warmth where their legs almost touched. "What are you doing?" the girl asked.
"Art homework. I'm almost done."
Sarah squirmed. "We shouldn't keep daddy waiting."
Temperance stared at her work and her pencil slowed. Nodding, she set her sketchbook aside then followed Sarah.
Once everyone got to the youth minister's house, the teenagers began "devo" with sharing of needs and a prayer circle. Temperance remained mostly silent at these gatherings, but John or Sarah never failed to make sure prayers were said for Temperance's parents to be found safely, and she was both touched and annoyed. If there were some all-powerful deity, it certainly wasn't responding to the group request. Still, she recognized that it was kindness that drove John and Sarah, even though she was uncomfortable with them revealing her situation.
Tonight was no different, and teenagers asked for prayers for their friends, for sick family, for fighting parents, for help on tests. Temperance clenched her jaw to stop herself from pointing out that, instead of asking for divine intervention, the girl should try studying.
These beliefs made no sense to her. Clear, scientific theory and fact explained the material world. These teens and the Davises found comfort in the idea that someone or something was in charge, and that they could ask that entity for things. But their prayer was a simple demonstration of the validity of operant conditioning with variable reinforcement. Temperance derived comfort from knowledge, but these teens' actions were based not on knowledge. Their avoidance of knowledge was a displacement of responsibility, their faith akin to a belief in magic or superpowers.
"And I want us to pray not only for Temperance's parents, but for her to overcome her barriers to belief."
Sarah's comment snapped her out of her reverie, and Temperance frowned.
Sarah, next to her on the floor, had turned so she was looking Temperance straight in the eyes. Temperance found she couldn't look away as Sarah spoke. "I'm sorry, Temperance, but I don't want to see you fight with my dad anymore, or say that God isn't real. He's here, with us all, and He loves you. We love you too, and you're...well, you're incredible." Sarah took Temperance's hand in both of hers. "I want to see you in Heaven when I get there."
Temperance blinked. "Excuse me?"
John, who rarely said anything directly to her, spoke up. "Jesus died for you. Just like he did for all of us. Your disbelief spits in his face, devalues his sacrifice. But, more important, it puts your soul at risk. I've seen you with Joseph and Rachel. I know you have a kind heart, but it is often hidden behind your pride. If you're not careful, that'll be your downfall."
The group's young leader, Dan, held out a hand, and everyone turned toward him. His red hair was neatly combed to the side, and his equally-young wife held his other hand. It was their small house where everyone gathered and sat on the floor or crowed onto the mismatched furniture each week. Dan said, "If no one else has anything to add, let's begin our prayer."
The teens bowed their heads. Some folded their hands, and some raised palms toward the ceiling. Temperance's face was still heated, and she sat motionless against the sofa.
Dan's voice rumbled richly as he began, "Our most kind and loving Father, we come to you through Jesus your Son with these concerns heavy on our minds and hearts. We hope first that you will help Temperance come to accept your presence and your Word, that you will open her heart so she may hear and feel your love for her."
It was Ruth, the girl sitting next to her, who touched Temperance first. Temperance tried to shrug away the arm Ruth slung around her shoulders, but she couldn't with Sarah holding her hand.
Sarah shifted to face Temperance so they were knee-to-knee sitting cross-legged. Sarah took Temperance's other hand and brought both up to her own bowed forehead. Temperance tried to tug away, but Sarah held tight.
Temperance was squirming, trying to slip away. Then John scooted nearer and laid a hand on her knee. Lucas and Debbie, sitting on the sofa behind her and Sarah, put their hands on her head. She couldn't move without moving one of them.
She looked from one to the next as their lips moved under their tightly-closed eyes. Her heart pounded, and she began to shake. If she didn't make a scene, she couldn't get away. Mr. Davis had made it clear that church activities required perfect behavior. If she defied him, he might hit her again. He might have her removed from the Davis home. She could end up anywhere, in any school.
Her breathing grew shallow and she fought a desperate urge to shove the teens' hands away. To elbow, kick, fight her way free.
Dan was still speaking, and she could hear little murmurs from the teens. "Please give her the strength and humility to overcome her prideful self-reliance and accept the help and support that we and others stand ready to offer. Help her to accept that thinking too highly of her own capabilities will only drive others away and leave her lonely."
They thought she was the cause of her own loneliness.
At that, tears pricked at her eyes again. She tried to wriggle away, but there were too many kids. Too many, too close.
There was nowhere to go.
"Stop." She whispered, but Sarah gripped her hands more tightly, and the others shifted even closer. She was trapped against the couch.
John patted her knee and squeezed it tighter, "Lord, please help Temperance to cast aside her resistance to your love and forgiveness. Help her to open her heart to the beauty of your all-encompassing joy that she may know that joy. Help her to overcome her disbelief and find faith in more than that which she can see and measure."
"Dearest Lord," Sarah joined in, "I beg you to show Temperance the way to a relationship with you and to let her see the truth that you are the one true God of the universe. Help her see the love and truths my parents are offering her, and to see that we all love her and want her to be saved and happy." Sarah kissed the fingers on both of Temperance's hands and held them to her damp cheeks.
"Stop. Please stop," Temperance begged, though her voice came out only as a whimper. There was nowhere to go, and she was crying. She wanted to go. She wanted to be where no one would see her. Where no one would touch her. Her shoulders shuddered with her ragged breaths.
"God, show Temperance how lucky she is that the Davises took her in when she was but an orphan in the world. Help her repay that generosity by responding to the opportunity to for her soul to be saved." Mark's voice, pompous and self-righteous as it always was. "Help her to see that heathen beliefs are wrong in your sight."
Matt laid a hand on her other knee, and although she shrank back, he patted it, saying, "Help us to show Temperance that she is loved and welcomed here."
"Please let these tears be a sign that your grace is doing its work in Temperance's life and heart," Ruth said.
They continued with prayers for other issues, and Temperance's muscles ached with stored tension. She wished she believed, or believed at least in invisibility, or some kind of ability to wish herself somewhere else. She continued shaking and crying, gasping for air and breathing through her mouth to try and avoid all-out sobs.
They continued with prayers for other issues, but Temperance barely heard a word. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, curling into herself while she fought for control. But she couldn't stop shaking, and her breath came in short, harsh gasps despite her best efforts.
She just wanted it to be over.
Please. Just let it be over.
"We hope this is only the beginning of Temperance's walk with you." The youth leader had finally picked up the prayer and, after a pat or squeeze, the other teens let go of her, except for Sarah. "We lay all these things in your hands, in the name of your son Jesus, through whom we pray, amen."
"Amen" echoed around the room.
Sarah released Temperance's hands and flung her arms around her neck. "I love you, Temperance."
Temperance stared though tears at all the expectant faces, then leapt to her feet and fled the room. In the bathroom she locked the door and let the water run while she sat on the toilet, holding a cold washcloth to her eyes as she sobbed in a way she hadn't in all the months since her parents had not come home.
When the sobs quieted, her face was swollen, her eyes dry and scratchy, and her head ached. Her watch told her they'd been at the devotional for over an hour, which meant that it should be nearly over...or, at least, it should be snack time.
When she turned off the water's sound camouflage, she heard singing and waited, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow in measured breaths.
The group stopped singing, and there was silence for a couple of minutes, then the clusters of people chatting and snacking. Temperance flushed the toilet and walked back out. She kept quiet and to the side, smiling a small, fragile-feeling smile at each person who greeted her. She was surprised--but grateful--that they didn't make a fuss over her or call attention to her previous display.
She ate a brownie that Ruth had baked, drank a small cup of 7-Up, and accepted goodbye hugs from two of them when Mr. Davis arrived to get them.
"Daddy! Daddy, you won't believe what happened!" Sarah enthused as they climbed into the car. "At devo tonight we prayed for Temperance and laid hands on her, and she was filled with the Lord!"
"Is that so?"
"She shook and cried and everything!"
Temperance cringed.
"I think God and the Spirit started working in her tonight," John said. His voice was steady and calm again.
Mr. Davis caught Temperance's eye in the rear view mirror. She met his gaze steadily until he looked away. When they got home John and Sarah headed to their rooms, but Temperance stayed in the entry way with Mr. Davis. He looked tired.
After a long moment where they stared at each other, Mr. Davis said, "I appreciate that you didn't argue with John and Sarah in the car."
"What good would it do? They believe it, and it makes them happy."
Mr. Davis nodded. "Still, it's unlike you not to correct a misunderstanding."
He thought she was prideful too. And, apparently, insensitive as well. "Mr. Davis, I'm grateful your family has made a place for me. But we both know that I'll never fit, and you'll never be able to accept me." She trembled, but took a careful breath, hoping to steady her voice. "May I ask you...please, sir, could you not send me away until the end of the school year? I'll try to keep silent, try not to disrupt your lives, but I need to do well in school, and--"
"Yes, Temperance. Of course you can. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you have need. We won't give up hope that you'll seek the truth in earnest." He rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment, then walked away.
***
Temperance stared at the fried-egg poster emblazoned with "This is Your Brain on Drugs" that hung on the bulletin board. Mrs. Dougherty shared the office with the school nurse and psychologist. It was drab, the furniture was battered, and it smelled of antiseptic.
"I think you're making a mistake. The Davises are good people."
Temperance's lip curled as it always did when Mrs. Dougherty spoke to her. The woman was condescending.
"They do care about you. I don't think it's in your best interests to move again." Mrs. Dougherty leaned forward. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." Keeping her answers short seemed to reduce the length of these meetings.
"I'll start looking then. But, Temperance, you really need to try and fit in somewhere--"
"I don't fit in here! They...they want to brainwash me into believing in imaginary beings."
The social worker's head jerked up from the notes she was scribbling. "I beg your pardon?"
"They don't accept basic scientific fact. They insist that women should be 'in submission' to men, as if men are inherently wiser, more intelligent and more competent--"
"The Davises are devoutly religious, yes, but..." Mrs. Dougherty's legs were crossed, and she bounced the dangling foot rhythmically. When she continued, her tone was wary. "Temperance...you haven't been saying these things to them like this, have you?"
She stared at Mrs. Dougherty, who always seemed to have the same shape to her brown hair and always seemed to wear the same style suit and the same white blouse with a bow at the neck. The past three months flickered through her mind--being forced to go to church, being expected to believe, the horror when she didn't. The children crying, begging her not to fight, Sarah worrying Temperance would go to hell, the teens laying hands on her. Being trapped, being yelled at and slapped and called blasphemous.
"They said I was insubordinate, that...they..." She sounded defensive. She knew she did. And it made her angry, because she’d meant to sound calm and assertive.
Mrs. Dougherty sighed. "Temperance, we talked about this last time. You have to interact with people, talk to them, and share with them. Part of that is accepting that different people believe different things--"
"I know that! My father and I visited various places of worship, but the Davises called that heretical and said I was going to hell if I didn't change myself." Temperance shifted in the plastic chair and wondered absently what comments her classmates would make about her latest "confidential" visit down here.
"Temperance," Mrs. Dougherty's voice softened and slowed. She still used Temperance's name too often and spoke with deliberation as if Temperance were a slow-witted young child. "Did you think maybe that was just their way of trying to help you learn to cope with different people, of guiding you into fitting into their family?"
Temperance shook her head. She was certain that wasn't what they'd been saying or doing, but she couldn't think of a way to express that, and Mrs. Dougherty seemed to have decided already that she wasn't trying hard enough to learn skills it seemed no one would explain.
"You may not see it, Temperance, but the Davises' affection for you is at the root of their desire to share their religion. Rejecting that out of hand--"
"I tried! I talked. I shared. You don't know how..." she trailed off as Mrs. Dougherty frowned. "You don't know," she whispered.
"I know it's hard. You've had a lot of change in a very short time." The woman laid a hand over Temperance's tightly-clasped ones on the desk. "That's one of the reasons I think you would do better staying in the same placement. At least it's familiar."
"Mr. Davis doesn't want me to stay."
Mrs. Dougherty's hand tightened around hers. "He hasn't said any such thing to me."
"He's humoring his wife, but he thinks I'm a bad influence." Temperance took a deep breath and mumbled, "Especially on the children."
"You're just bound and determined to see them as bad, aren't you?" Mrs. Dougherty tsked and shook her head.
Her head jerked up. "No!" It was the other way around. "I just...it's not working."
"Well, I'll talk to the Davises and get their perspective since they haven't come to me with any complaints. But, Temperance, you have to understand that nowhere you go will be like living with your own family was."
"I understand that," Temperance whispered, slipping her hands away from the woman's grasp.
Mrs. Dougherty's voice hardened slightly. "This will be your third placement in six months, you realize. There is no over-abundance of homes for teenagers, and the more often you move, the more difficult it will be to find a placement for you." She paused. "Temperance?"
Temperance's head felt heavy as she lifted it to look at Mrs. Dougherty.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, ma'am," she replied, managing a tiny voice instead of a whisper.
"All right. Call me if you change your mind."
She didn't call.
For weeks after school let out Temperance pushed the little ones in the backyard swings and read to them, played board games with the others, and kept herself distant otherwise. She spent hours in her room tackling the textbooks and readings she'd assigned herself as summer learning projects.
It was in the fourth week of summer that Mrs. Davis told her Mrs. Dougherty had confirmed her move.
"We'll be sorry to see you go, Temperance," Mrs. Davis said, beginning to reach out and then dropping her hand as Temperance evaded her touch.
"Go??" wailed a voice behind them.
Temperance turned to see a stricken face with wide eyes. "Joseph, I'm sorry--"
"NO! No, you can't!!" He turned and ran. "Lydia! Sarah! Tell Temperance she can't leave!"
"I'm sorry," Temperance said to Mrs. Davis. She closed her ears to Joseph's cries and walked quickly out of the house, picking up speed until she was jogging down the sidewalk. She ran for over two hours before she found herself, dripping in sweat and out of breath, back in front of the Davis's house, where only the porch light shone to greet her.
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Chapter 11
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Posting Schedule: This story has 26 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays so that the story will finish posting the week Bones comes back.
Author's Notes
jsq, b1uemorpho. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
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