A Town Without Honor

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Honor under fire

A story of betrayal and consequences.

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I was nine; she was four. She was the neighbor girl, my younger sister's shadow, cute in the way that only blue-eyed blonde, round-cheek cherub toddlers could be. It was tiny Beth who gave me the nickname that would stick with me for the rest of my life.

Arnold was a little too hard to pronounce. From her lips, it came out as 'Ahnuh'. My entire household found it hilarious. Grandma Jane was visiting when four-year-old Beth came running up to me, throwing her arms around my leg. "Ahnuh, Ahnuh!" she cried out, giggling, hiding behind me as my sister Peggy came searching for her.

Grandma didn't have the best of hearing. She turned to Mom, "Why does she call him Honor?"

The name stuck, a family joke.

Ours was a big family, Irish and French Catholic, Fourteen blood aunts and uncles, three living grandparents, 58 first cousins. They had normal names, all. Six Jameses, three Williams, three Roberts, two Donalds, four Marys, three Janes, three Margarets, two Jennys, two Jeans, and lots of derivative nicknames, Jimmy, Jack, Junior, Trey, Billy, Will, Bob, Robbie, Don, Mare, Janey, Peggy, Margeand Jen-jen.

One Honor.

Ironic. The same adorable toddler who stuck me with my moniker would be the grown woman who erased the last vestige of that same character trait from my shattered soul.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

* * *

I was 14, she was nine. Dad had been called up with most of his unit to defend Kuwait in Operation Desert Storm. He was part of the 14th Quartermaster Detachment, a water purification unit that was going to be stationed in Saudi Arabia, away from combat, a safe post.

After weeks of intensive training, he came home briefly before being deployed. On his last day, he took me for a walk.

"Honor, I'm not sure how long we're going to be away. It could be as long as a year. It's up to you to be the man of the house. Take care of your mother and Peg. Your mom's going to need you. She's never been alone."

It was too great a burden for me to comprehend, but, of course, I thought it was no big deal. I was a teenager, almost 5'10". I felt more like a man than a boy. I was only a couple of inches smaller than Dad, if about a foot narrower across the shoulders.

"Sure Dad. We'll be fine."

"You're going to move back to Bedenton so your mother can be with the family. She'll need the support. We'll keep the house; you can stay in the old cabin."

My laissez-a-faire attitude turned to shock. I was about to enter High School! Leave? All my friends, my school, the team, how could I? How could he?

I didn't have a say in it. The decision had been made. I was at the airport when Dad left, still angry and not afraid to let it show. He pulled me aside. "I know this is difficult. Life sometimes is. I'm counting on you, son. I know you'll do the right thing. Always. Be there for your mother and sister. Be strong." He put his big meaty hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'll be back before you know it."

For Peggy, it was an adventure. For Mom, it was a chance to reconnect with the family. For me, it was a time of torment. I loved the small town where most of our family had lived for four generations, the rural setting, the outdoors, the closeness, but I was being torn away from the future, as I knew it. "It's just a year," I told myself.

For Beth, it was the end of the world.

She was devastated, constantly crying, always underfoot, staring at me sadly. It was obvious she had a crush on me. I'd always found it cute, but now it was sad. When we were ready to leave with the loaded down family van, it took me 10 minutes to peel her arms off me.

I lifted her off the ground and hugged her. She wrapped her skinny arms around my neck, almost strangling me. She pressed her lips against mine, fiercely. "Come back to me, Honor," she sobbed.

"Soon, BB, I promise. We'll all be back."

* * *

Dad was right. He was back before we knew it.

Six days after arriving in Dharan, an Iraqi missile hit their barracks.

One lousy week. History books show that 114 Americans died from enemy fire during the Gulf War. The Iraqis lost between 25 and 35 thousand. Quite the victory, almost bloodless for our side.

Unless you're one of the 114, or their family.

We went back to Greensburg only long enough to empty the house and put it up for sale. We visited with the other families from Dad's unit. There were lots of tears, sadness and anger.

Beth was torn, ecstatic that we were back, then anguished because it wasn't for good. Losing Dad hit me hard. The only thing that got through the pain of my father's death was little Beth. She was just a kid. When I got depressed, she'd find me, hunt me down, climb in my lap and hold me. She was just a kid, a nine-year-old meddlesome brat, my anchor.

I was 14; she was nine. I was forced to be a man when I'd never had a chance to be a boy. She lost her first love and her innocent view of the world.

Our departure was pained. This time, she didn't hug me, or kiss me. She stood apart, tears streaming down her face, staring at me angrily. She hugged my sister and my Mom. Me, she stood three feet away, trembling, trying to catch her breath. I stepped toward her, but she backed up two quick steps.

"Goodbye, Honor," was her last words, before she turned and ran, skinny bare legs flying, pale arms pumping, blonde hair streaming behind her.

"Goodbye, BB."

* * *

I was 19, she was 14.

I had the grades and test scores to get into most colleges. Carnegie Mellon was not only one of the best schools in the nation, but I could get nearly my entire education paid for with scholarships, grants, and a minimum of loans. I think the scholarship from the Greensburg VFW was the kicker. I was going home.

I had taken a year off after high school, working for my uncles, squirreling away a little cash, helping with the house-hold expenses. Mom worked. It didn't pay a lot, but together with the money from Dad's passing, we had enough to get by. In a small town like Bedenton, jobs were hard to come by. Fully a third of the residents commuted over an hour each way to the big city outskirts.

It had been five years. I hadn't thought of Beth much in the last few. The first couple of years, I was a loner. I buried myself in my books and spent most of my time in my bedroom, playing maudlin music on Dad's old guitar. We'd call the old friends occasionally, and I'd chat with BB about her school, but without the face-to-face activity, things were strained. Over time, the calls became fewer, and I moved on.

I had a new life, several cousins my age, who were as close as brothers and sisters, friends in school, good friends, baseball teammates, girlfriends, three of them. Annie Marshall, the latest, had made a man out of me in the fields behind her house, on a dark green woolen blanket under cloudy skies. I was sad to leave her behind, but college was calling.

Driving to Pittsburgh, I wondered what had become of the lanky nine-year-old with the enormous crush. I told myself I'd look her up. Easier said than done. I didn't have a car; I lived on campus. I'd had to grow up early, and I took my education more seriously than most. I had an obligation to do the best I could, for myself, for my family. I was too serious for a lot of my acquaintances, but slowly made a few friends, good friends. I'd always been lucky that way.

Or, so I thought. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ben let me use his car for the weekend, if I would fill up the tank. It took about thirty minutes to drive to the old neighborhood.

I was anxious, more nervous than I should have been. I walked up to the door, and rang the bell, a Saturday morning at 10:42 am. It's funny how there are some things you can never forget.

She opened the door, and I recognized her immediately. Five years made a big difference. She was pretty, taller, her hair still long, those huge eyes of hers mesmerizing.

"Honor?" she said hesitantly, looking up at me.

I'd changed as well, growing into the family height. I stood 6'2", a solid 210 lbs. Everyone said I was the spitting image of my father. I'd look stocky if I wasn't so tall.

She launched herself at me without further hesitation, arms and legs wrapping me up. "Honor!" she shouted, her young lips swarming across my face, kissing me repeatedly, tears in those big shining eyes.

I laughed, hugging her. "Miss me, BB?" I teased.

I walked into the house I was so familiar with, the gangly little neighbor girl clinging to me like a spider monkey. Her mother was in the kitchen, and looked up at me in surprise.

"A little help, Mrs. D?" I pleaded.

She laughed, and came running around the counter, almost knocking her daughter off me, giving me the biggest hug. "You're back?" she asked.

She helped me peel Beth off, her hands reaching out to touch my arm and shoulders several times as if to verify I was there in the flesh.

"Going to school in Pittsburgh. Carnegie Mellon," I explained.

We had a nice lunch while I caught them up on the family news, and they did much of the same. I was lucky I'd arrived when I had; they would be moving within the month. I was shocked before they informed me they were only changing neighborhoods, moving to a better school district for Beth and closer to Mr. D's work.

If I'd waited another month to visit, I might never have seen Beth again.

If only.

I spent the entire weekend with them. Beth and I toured the old haunts, and it felt natural to walk hand in hand with her. She was 14 going on 21, and was already beautiful. I was proud to be with her, and I saw people smiling, nudging each other when we walked together.

I didn't have a lot of money, but I spent a month's allowance that weekend.

I was given the guest room, and was only mildly surprised when she slipped into my room around midnight. Nothing happened. I was 19; she was 14. I was a man; she was just a kid. I held her, told her how much I'd missed her, and we kissed as if it was our last days on earth.

I wasn't unaware of her body, small firm breasts, smooth skin, but she was a kid. She was a freshman in high school. I was a college guy, so I buried the wrong feelings and held her close. We fit together perfectly, made for each other.

She was 14; I was 19, but I knew it then.

I loved Beth. I always had. One day, she'd be mine.

* * *

I was 23, she was 18. We spent a weekend together at least once a month. The first two summers had been hard when I went home, leaving my Beth behind.

My family wanted to know everything, and I held nothing back. I had a different relationship with my mother than most sons. We were close, intimate, not as lovers, but everything else. We shared our thoughts, our dreams. Over the years she'd told me of her entire life with my father. I know part of it was how much I was like him.

She would cuddle up to me when we watched movies, my arm around her, holding her. We kissed often, more than friendly, but less than lovers. It should have been awkward, but it was natural. I loved my Mom, and I was her rock. After losing Dad, we'd had to lean on each other a lot.

I spent more than one night in her bed, holding her when the depression would hit. I recognized she was an attractive woman, but that was all. She was my father's, and she was my mother.

I would hold her, let her cry on my shoulder, kiss her tears away, and remind her how much I loved her, and would always be there for her. I'd promised my father that much and I was going to stand by it.

I had gained a reputation for doing what I said I'd do. I know a big part of it was Dad's final words, telling me he knew I'd do the right thing. I guess I always wanted to make him proud. It gave me a moral compass.

Peggy and I were close, but not like with Mom. We had the typical sibling thing going, teasing, irritating, sometimes fighting. We loved each other although we rarely said it.

The third summer, I stayed in Pittsburgh taking summer courses and working an internship. I had a car and spent all my free time with Beth. We were a couple. We weren't lovers, but we were closer than any other couple I knew.

I serenaded her often, wrote bad songs for her, played them poorly, and she loved it. To this day, I can see her sitting at my feet, looking up at me with those big blue eyes, her adoration clear as day. If I picked up Dad's old guitar and didn't play Kiss's "Beth" at least once, she'd pout. She would never ask for it, but I learned, and ended every little session letting my music tell her I loved her.

I took her to the senior prom. She was stunning, tall, beautiful, captivating, the prettiest girl I knew. Then again, maybe I'm biased. I went all out, renting a limo, taking her to a fancy dinner, dancing with her and her friends. I took her to a hotel afterward.

I was 23, she was 18. We made love for the first time.

I'd only had two other lovers, and those experiences could not have prepared me for Beth. I undressed her slowly, marveling in her exquisite, tight young body. She took her time removing my clothes, item by item, her hands and lips exploring my flesh.

Naked, we lay next to each other, our hands cautiously caressing one another, eyes roaming, slowly moving together, talking about our lives, our future. Our lips met, and she rolled onto her back, bringing me with her.

Her smooth thighs parted, and I was between them.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, taking my shaft in her hand and guiding me into her. We merged perfectly, filling her. It was magical, a perfect moment in time, leaning over her, as close as any two people can be.

"I love you so much," I confessed. "I don't even know how it's possible."

She smiled. "I've always loved you, Honor. Always."

I kissed her softly, moving inside of her. "I know."

"Promise me we'll never be apart again. I couldn't stand it."

"Never. You're mine, BB. Now and forever. Nothing will ever change that."

She was 18, and I was 23. I was naïve.

We were young, excited, and desperately in love. We made love, and it was beautiful. Then we fucked. Like wild minks, we learned together, exploring our feelings, likes and desires. She was wide open to me, eager, and willing. We destroyed both beds, and did it on the table, dresser, rug, chair, sink and in the shower. I couldn't get enough of her, and each time seemed to only get better.

I knew that night we were destined for each other, paired souls, and nobody could ever be what Beth was to me.

I didn't take her back to her house until almost noon the next day. She had told her mother she wouldn't be coming home, and I was nervous. I needn't have been. We were a mess, and there was no doubt what we'd been up to. The fact that we'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep didn't help.

I squirmed in my seat when she went to her room to change, leaving me alone with her parents.

Mrs. D took pity on me, sitting beside me on the couch. She ruffled my hair. "Relax, Honor. It was inevitable. You were hers since she was four years old. I think everyone knew it but you."

I turned to her father. "Mr. D? I... I want to marry your daughter." I started speaking quickly before I could be interrupted. "I'll be graduating in less than a month, and already have several job opportunities. I love her. I promise I'll be good to her, and give her the best life I can. I know there's a big difference in age, but we're in love."

He smiled. "Son, I couldn't ask for anyone better for my girl. Of course you have my approval, and thank you for asking."

My eyes were welling with tears, when I turned to his wife. She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. "Of course, Honor. Treat her well. She's still only eighteen and has worn blinders all her life, so be patient with her."

"I will. I'd wait, but I just can't. I can't stand to be apart from her."

She nodded. "That's good. Soon you'll never have to be apart again."

* * *

I was 24, she was 19. Our wedding was the event of a lifetime.

Beth's father made good money, and she was an only child. I had a great job just outside New York City, and was on the fast track to success. She was attending school in the city. We didn't live together, but we never spent a weekend apart. I still lived at home, amidst the extended family, and she fit among us like a hand in a glove. She was adored by my relatives and the feeling seemed mutual.

Her parents footed the bill for the wedding, and didn't mind that there were over 200 guests from my side alone. Most of that was family. We held the wedding in our hometown of Bedenton, a community of less than three thousand, a hop, skip and jump from the NY state line in Connecticut. It was a strange little place to outsiders, half-a-dozen families dominating the town's landscape. There wasn't much in the way of hotels, but we were family, and anyone with a spare room welcomed our guests openly and warmly. Mom gave Beth's family our home for the long weekend, and moved in with her sister, along with Peggy.

We had some huge tents set up, and Uncle Patrick, or perhaps I should say Father Patrick, came in from his diocese on the Cape, and married us in front of family, friends and God. We were constantly reminded what a handsome couple we were, and how lucky I was. Beth would never let that slide, insisting she was the lucky one, gaining not only the best man alive, but the entire wonderful family. It's easy to see she gained a lot of fans.

She was stunning. Ravishing. I imagine any red-blooded man's heart would speed up when she was near. Some men might be nervous about the attention she garnered, inadvertently, automatically, simply by being the amazing young woman she was.

Not me. I knew. Without a doubt. Beth had eyes for nobody but me. Her face would light up the room the moment I entered. My cousin Fred teased her horribly. When I first arrived in Bedenton, they made fun of my accent. Fred could mimic me perfectly. Once BB arrived, he was merciless. He would sneak into a room where Beth was, and call out to her. She'd turn, her face lighting up, until she saw who it was. Everyone thought it was funny, everyone except Beth. Once she told me, I put an end to it. Firmly.

I was teased often that she had the same effect on me. I never denied it. She was mine now. Now and forever. I would love her, care for her, protect her, and worship her. I had my relatives to help me. Among the family, she was safe, protected, adored and rightfully so.

The party lasted two days. We postponed our Niagara Falls honeymoon so we could spend the time among both families and friends, who'd traveled to be with us. Weddings are so hectic, I remember little about the entire event outside of our first dance, vows, and our wedding night. I recall taking stage with the band, and singing 'Beth' for her. I was in a daze most of the time, but I'll never forget the image of her, sitting on the edge of the stage, my sister adjusting my new wife's gown, the familiar look of adoration on BB's beautiful face.

I remember getting to our suite, leaning her over the couch, lifting her bridal train, and taking her there, in her wedding dress, with a frenzy. I was desperate to be inside her. She was laughing, struggling with all the material, where I'd thrown it over her head. Beth even laughed that Peggy, her maid of honor, was lying down on the job. It was her task to keep the dress under control.

The laughing only lasted a short while, before her delightful moans and gasps erased it. Her thigh-high white stockings encased her heavenly legs, one garter missing, on the leg of one of my cousins now, who'd come out the winner in the brawl to catch the bouquet. Beth's naughty little white lace thong was pulled to the side, rubbing against my shaft while I hammered away at the girl who'd loved me all of her life, and had given herself to me in front of the entire world that day.