The
farmhouse was big. Much bigger than I
anticipated, or even thought possible.
When it was first discovered, I don’t remember it being described in
such grandiose terms.
Once
out of my room, Ginny led me on a tour.
I had been around some, but never with a guide, especially one as attractive
as Ginny.
Outside
my room, in the hallway, I noticed several rooms, perhaps as many as four. Interesting, but not enough to accommodate everyone
staying out here. “There are not enough
rooms for everybody to stay. Are these reserved for teachers? Or some of the student management?”
Ginny
laughed. “No. They’re reserved for something else.”
I
still wasn’t getting it. “You mean like for
guests? Like me?”
“Occasionally,”
Ginny said. “But not primarily.”
A
light started to shine in my head, and rather than pursue it, I decided to move
the conversation forward. “So, where does everybody go? Do they sleep in the barn?”
“Well,
I can’t rule out that nobody’s ever slept in the barn. It takes all kinds to make the world go
round. But, no, the sleeping quarters
are in the basement.” Ginny slipped her arm into mine. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”
Before
we could leave, one of the doors opened up, and Robert Bond walked out, buttoning
up his shirt. Robert was a founding
member of our group, Artie’s Pals. He’d left
to be at the farm shortly after its discovery.
Before he could entirely shut the door, I caught a glimpse of someone
else in the room, but I couldn’t tell who.
“Hey,
Lance! Good to see you out and about!” Robert had a good sense of cheer about him.
“Good
to see you, Robert! You look good. You must be taking to farm life.”
Robert
glowed or turned a shade of red. I’m not
sure which. “I am!” he answered. “Maybe
you ought to take it up too? Get out of
that cesspool of nastiness at the high school.”
“Sure. Maybe I will.” No, I wasn’t. Too many people there to care about and help protect,
not the least of which was my sister and father.
Ginny
said, “I’m showing him the whole enchilada this morning, Robert. Maybe that’ll convince him. You want to join us, Robbie?”
That
was new. He’d never heard Robert called
Robbie before. “Wish I could, Ginny. I
got to oversee egg production this morning.”
“What?
Those hens won’t lay eggs without you?” Ginny playfully asked.
“You’d
be surprised,” kidded Robert. “Anyhoo,
Lance, you are in good hands with Ginny. I can’t think of a better person to
show you the farm.”
Robert
left down the hall. I looked at Ginny, smiling.
“Ok, Ginny. Show me the wonders
of Farm Land.”
We
started down the hall, heading to a staircase that would take us to the ground
floor.
As
we came to the head of the steps, I heard a door open down the hall. It was David Deneau, once my lead actor in The
Sands of Loren (the soap opera I wrote for school broadcast), and now the
student head of the farm community.
What
room was he exiting? Wasn't that the same
room Robert left?
At
first, I tried to rationalize away what I saw.
Eventually, though, I was not able to that.
I’ll
be honest. I had trouble with it. But
only for a while. The more time I had to
think about, the more time I saw them together, and how much caring and love
was in their relationship, the more I came to accept it.
Not,
as Ginny would later remind me, that they needed my acceptance.
Over
my years in the Trap, Doc, I learned what a precious commodity love was. I
stopped questioning it. Wherever it came
from.
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