Season of Terror
by Tigger
Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 6: Breaking Fasts, Breaking News

There was a spring in Jane Thompson's step and a barely suppressed grin on her lips as she entered the breakfast room to greet her waiting student.  Two factors were primarily responsible for Jane's excellent mood - the glorious sunrise she'd watched astride her favorite mount, and the heady success of her latest stratagem to bring this student finally to heel. 

She was especially pleased to find Victoria (not Victor) standing demurely beside her chair awaiting her teacher's arrival. 

*Actually,* Jane amended with a certain degree of self-congratulation, *she's looking about as demure as she is capable at this particular moment in time - which isn't much.  Well, that is, at least indirectly, the child's own fault. If she hadn't been such a little bitch, I wouldn't have needed to resort to such tactics with her.*

Of course, the lack of a big sister for this student was a contributing factor, and that was one problem Jane could NOT lay at the girl's door.  Marie had attempted to fulfill the 'spirit-guide' role for Victoria, but unfortunately, without much success.

*Maybe Marie is just old enough these days not to be considered 'trustworthy',* Jane thought as she pulled her own chair out from the table. *Certainly, a real student has always been more effective as my agent-provocatuese, but this is the first time in recent memory that Marie hasn't been able to make a close connection with a student.  Or maybe Victor is just harder-hearted and more suspicious than our other students.*

"Do sit down, Victoria," Jane ordered briskly as she unfolded her own napkin, and then added, "Are you feeling all right? Your color seems a bit . . . high today."

As intended, that comment served to add other vivid, more natural hues to the artificial ones the girl had used, without much success, in her attempt to mask the brightly colored, resilient cosmetics.  "No, I am fine, really," was the quiet response.

"Then it is your makeup.  It is inappropriate to the occasion. Do attempt something more subdued for breakfast and day-wear in the future.  It will help you. . . draw less attention when we are out on the town again, eh?"

"I TRIED," was the femininely turned out boy's knee-jerk reaction to Jane's barb, but the recovery was just as quick.  "Sorry, ma'am.  I'll try to do better.  Perhaps Ms. Marie can show me a few more tricks today."

Inwardly pleased with both the initial reaction and the speedy retrenchment, Jane nodded. They could accomplish a great deal of teaching in the week or so it would take those colors to completely fade, particularly if this change of attitude on Victoria's part continued. "A capital plan," she agreed briskly.  "I think we will have you spend the morning working with Marie, first on your cosmetics application and hair arrangement, and then you will help with the luncheon preparations.  Then, this afternoon, I will give you your first riding lesson.  You will need to become a proficient rider since I fully intend you to participate in our local Thanksgiving Parade this year as one of the equestriennes."

"Riding?" Victoria looked horrified.  "Rider? Equest. . . ? You mean RIDING?  Like on a HORSE?" The last word was a squeak.

"Yes indeed.  A very ladylike exercise," Jane replied as she poured coffee into her cup. *And one that you apparently fear.  Which means I will have you precisely where I want you - teetering on the emotional precipice with only Marie and I to hold the safety line.  Excellent.* "Yes, I think you will look simply superb in a Victorian riding habit seated side-saddle atop a tall, powerful stallion.  A side-saddle is a little less . . . stable than riding astride, but it's really not all THAT dangerous."

The slightly green-about-the-gills look on Victoria's face clear showed how little that appealed to the younger person, but this time, her control didn't break .  "Coffee, dear?" Jane asked, all sweet solicitude.

Suddenly, the mood was interrupted as the kitchen door slammed open, a stricken Marie stood there obviously bracing herself against the jamb.  "Jane, something horrible has happened. . .the television. . . oh god, do we know anybody who works at. . . you've got to see this to bel. . .it's UN-believable . ."

Jane was instantly out of her chair, everything else forgotten as she went to tend her best friend.  She was only dimly aware that Victoria had also moved to Marie's aid as they each took an arm to help the badly shaking woman to a chair.  "Now, tell me, Marie," Jane said in a softly caring tone of voice that Victoria had never heard from this stern woman before, "What has upset you so?"

"New York, Jane," Marie rasped out, "Oh God, there's been a terrible accident - the World Trade Tower . . . a plane just hit it."

~-------------~

Sadly, by 9:30 that morning, it was painfully clear that the first crash had not been an accident.  Jane, Marie and Victoria joined a shocked world in watching as another plane crashed - this one into the second World Trade Tower.  

And then came the report of yet another aircraft suicide attack - this one into the Pentagon.

Although numbed by her own shock, the empathic Marie still saw the change in her old friend at seeing the video that accompanied the verification of the Pentagon attack. With that recognition came understanding. Struggling at least to appear calm and in control of herself, she rose and placed a gentle hand on their student's shoulder.  "I think, Jane," she offered softly, "that I will take Victoria up and begin her lessons for today.  You'll be all right, won't you?"

For a moment, Jane gave no response other than rapid eye movements from Marie to Victoria and then back to the grim pictures playing from the small television monitor.  "Jane?" Marie asked again, more firmly this time.

"Ye. . yes, of course," she finally managed, and then made the effort of will necessary to put her student first.  "She needs to learn how to correct. . .unfortunate color selections.  Her cosmetic choices today are not appropriate for informal day-wear."  If Jane's voice lacked its usual steely power, only she and Marie recognized that deficiency.

It was only after Marie had led the suddenly-acquiescent child from the room that Jane recalled she had not discussed her plans for Victoria's morning with her partner before that moment.

Then Jane made a frantic grab for the antique phone on her desk.