index


Message-ID: <48579asstr$1090656607@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kenn_ghannon@hotmail.com (Kenn Ghannon)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 23 Jul 2004 21:32:22 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Stranded, Chapter 0 (nosex) by Kenn Ghannon (the Missing)
Lines: 267
Date: Sat, 24 Jul 2004 04:10:07 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Disclaimer: While the following work of fiction contains no sexual
content, future installments will.  If written accounts of acts of a
lewd or sexual nature offend you or are illegal for you to read,
please discontinue your perusal of this story.

All people here are fictional.  Any similarity to people living or
dead is purely coincidental.

If you've gotten this far, I hope you enjoy.


Chapter 0: Prologue

I'm not very good at being a brother.  I can admit that; at least, to
myself.

I don't think I was always like this.  I remember after Jamie was
first born I was attentive and protective.  I played with her, letting
her grab on my finger and tug on my hair.  I tickled her until she
laughed.  I can even remember her little toothless smile.  I was
everything a good brother should be.

Jamie was something of a surprise.  My parents had not been expecting
to have more than one child.  They had me when they were young; my
mother was 22 and my father 24 and I was pretty much all they wanted,
I think.  So, it was something of a shock for them when my mother got
pregnant when I was 11.

In hindsight, it was a little funny.  I didn't really know what was
going on at the time until they told me I was going to have a little
brother or sister.  I remember wondering what all of the running
around was for, changing my mom's office into a nursery, painting, new
furniture.  It was strange, I knew something was up but I was almost
afraid to ask what it was.

So, I ended up having a brand new little sister when I was 12.  At
first, I was a little rotten, I know.  I wasn't the sole focus of my
parents love anymore and I guess I got a little surly and bratty. 
Still, when I saw her my heart filled with love.  She'd look at you
with those beautiful green eyes - eyes of a quiet ocean, my dad used
to call them - and there'd be such a look of devotion and trust that
you could almost feel your heart break just to look in them.  I
remember I used to lose myself in her eyes and the world around me
would just evaporate.  Then, she'd smile and it was like the sun
suddenly appearing from behind a rain cloud.  It's difficult to
explain, really.  Life would be just fine, and then she'd smile and
you'd wonder how the very air around you could suddenly get so bright.
 I couldn't believe how much I could love someone that I had just met.

Life was like that for me for a long time.  'You are her older
brother,' my father once told me.  'You are her guardian, her
playmate, the one she'll come to when she needs help.  You must always
be there for her.  When she falls, you must pick her up.  When she
cries, you must dry her tears.  And when she's ready to give up, you
must carry her on your shoulders.'  I suppose my father was something
of a poet but his words struck such a chord in me that I've never
forgotten them.  They just helped to underscore how special and
wonderful Jamie was.

So, I spent nearly every free moment I had with Jamie.  I rocked her
when she was fussy.  I played with her when she was melancholy.  I
sang to her, though God above knows I can't carry a tune, when she
cried.  I read to her when she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. 
When I turned 16 and she was 4, I was even allowed to baby-sit for her
the occasional time my parents went out.  I guess they could see that
I cared enough for her that I would never let any harm come her way.

 It's funny; almost ironic because, in a strange way, it was
babysitting that started all of this.

It was the summer of my graduation.  I was only thinking of school,
really.  I had received a four year academic scholarship to UCLA. 
Which, to me, was surprising.  I never really studied.  I never really
tried to do well.  I just had a knack, I think, for remembering the
important things in my classes.  I guess I owe Jamie at least a small
part of the credit, too.  Spending most of my time with her meant I
had much less time to go out and get in trouble.

Not that I was a recluse, mind you.  I dated some, though not much. 
Girls just really weren't that interested in a quasi-nerd who was the
perpetual third-string running back of the high school football team.

It didn't really matter to me, though I can be honest and say that it
hurt sometimes.  I just spent time with Jamie and somehow my pain and
fears just seemed to evaporate.  I guess it was kind of magical, in a
strange way.

Spending time thinking about my impending move across the country,
though, didn't stop me from realizing that something was wrong with my
parents.  I think they were having a bit of a rough time in their
marriage.  They never really let me see them arguing, but it doesn't
take a rocket scientist to know when things aren't quite right.  Like
I said, Jamie was a surprise and it took mom and dad a bit of time to
adjust.

Maybe too long.  They decided to take a vacation; just the two of
them.  Jamie was six and I was 18, getting ready to start college in
the fall so it really wasn't a big deal to have me watch her.  And it
certainly wasn't anything new.  Like I said, I spent more time with
Jamie than I did with my friends.

Mom and Dad took a romantic train excursion through Canada and Alaska.
 I happened to find the brochure on the kitchen table one day, and I
have to admit that I was impressed.  It showed pictures of majestic
mountains tinged with snow and a quaint little train riding along
rails around the mountain.  I was sure that if anything could
re-kindle their flame, this was it.

I truly hope that it did.  I hope that they somehow re-affirmed their
love on that train.  They never made it back.

The train crash was on all the news; usually as one of the top three
stories.  Mom and Dad's picture were there, one of only two couples
from Illinois to be on the train.

I have to admit that I don't remember much about the next few days.  I
took care of Jamie almost mechanically, though I know in my heart that
I didn't fool her.  She was a perceptive six-year old and knew that
something was wrong.  For one thing, there were the reporters
constantly ringing on the door.  The phone calls kept coming until I
simply left the phone off the hook.  Still, I can only hope that I hid
most of it from her.

Of course, there were no relatives to call us.  Both Mom and Dad were
the only children in their respective families and the last of my
grandparents had died when I was but 8.  I remember a kindly old
woman, with lines in her face but I don't know if I really remember
her or if I'm just remembering the photos that mom would sometimes
take out of the album.

So, the next few weeks were frenetic.  The police came by several
times, a state social services caseworker in tow.  They checked on me,
checked on Jamie, and checked on the house.  I assume it was legal,
though I was still in shock and can't even remember their faces. 
Still, I guess I passed whatever criteria they were looking for
because they left Jamie with me.

I guess it was lucky that my mom and dad had evidently updated their
will recently, naming me as Jamie's guardian if anything should happen
to them.  There really was no one to challenge it, though I seem to
recall a long interview with the social services caseworker.  Still,
evidently a few weeks later a judge agreed and granted me custody of
my sister.  Looking back, I don't really remember much about the
process though I still have the signed papers filed away.  I used to
look at them occasionally to get some perspective.

As the summer drew to a close and I had my scholarship at UCLA looming
at me, I knew that it was time for some decisions.  So, I called my
parents' lawyer and made an appointment.  I needed someone to advise
me, and I knew that he was a friend of theirs - though not very close.
 I needed to understand my options, what I needed to do to provide the
best life for myself but more importantly, for Jamie.

My parents had left us with a little money.  They're insurance,
savings, some stocks and bonds left my sister and I with about a
million dollars between us after the mortgage was paid off.  I know
that a million dollars seems like a large sum of money, but I was
smart enough to know better.  It certainly wouldn't last our entire
lives.  I was the adult now...the only adult we had.  I had to be
responsible.

Mr. Graves, my parents' lawyer, gave me several options, none of them
particularly good.  I remember spending most of a weekend locked in
thought, trying to move the pieces of our lives into some semblance of
a cohesive picture.  It wasn't easy.  I guess being an adult never is.
 I had to make some very tough, very scary decisions.  After a while,
though, I finally knew what I had to do.

To my shame, I sent Jamie away even though she was only 6.  I put her
in boarding school.  I thought it was the 'adult' thing to do.  I
really wasn't qualified to raise a child and I knew it. 
Unfortunately, I can't tell if the decision was because I felt it was
the best thing for her or if it was the best thing for me...and
sometimes, many times, that keeps me awake at night.

The Fairmount Academy for Young Women in Vermont had counselors on
staff to help her deal with the loss of our parents.  I justified it
to myself, saying that I would see her on holidays and over the
summer.  I kept telling myself that it was just for a year or two,
just long enough to figure out what I needed to do with my life.  I
argued with myself until I had nothing left to argue with.  In my
mind, I told myself it was the right decision.

I thought it was a good plan.

I didn't go to college.  I joined the Navy.  My thought was that I
needed to make money to support us.  The million or so dollars my
parents had left us really wasn't much, and boarding school was very
expensive.  I had to make enough to cover all of the mounting costs
that being an adult set upon me.  I hired a money manager to invest
the money and Mr. Graves to watch over everything.

I went for pilot training and it turned out that I was really good at
it.  Really good.  I wasn't 'Top Gun', but I was perhaps the 4th or
5th best pilot in my year.  Even better, I liked it.  There is a
feeling of freedom when you are soaring high over the Earth.  A
feeling that nothing can possibly touch you.  It is serenity and
happiness and peace all at once and it allowed me to forget, if only
for a time.

Jamie stayed in school.  I very rarely saw her though I did manage to
make it for Christmas that year.  She was quieter than I remember
though she hugged me and clung to me.  I cried, but I still thought I
was doing the right thing.  She was learning.  Adding and subtracting.
 Writing.  Social Studies.  When I left, she begged me not to leave
her.  To take her with me.  I knew it was impossible.  I told her that
I would come back to see her soon, very soon.

I lied to her.  Shamelessly.

When her first year was up and summer time came I was deployed in the
Mediterranean on an aircraft carrier.  I drew money from our
inheritance and kept her there for summer school, sure that I would be
able to see her soon.  Maybe even get stationed state side and take
her out of boarding school.

I lied to myself.  Shamelessly.

I'm ashamed to say that the years went on like that.  We shared some
letters, not very often.  We always had the perfunctory 'I love you'
at the end, though I'm not sure she even knew what it meant.  I did,
and I truly meant what I wrote and with each letter it got harder to
lie to her.  I think that's why the letters got further and further
apart.  Guilt ripped at me with every envelope.

When my four years were up, I lucked into a deal to start my own
charter plane service in Florida.  It wasn't much, just one plane and
it meant investing a large part of my dwindling inheritance, but it
was the start.  I had found something I enjoyed and I was good at it. 
With a little hard work, I could really make something of myself.

I didn't take Jamie out of school.  The letters I received from her
and the staff always said how well she was doing.  She had a 4.0 GPA
and seemed to be very happy there though I'm not sure if that's truly
what I thought or rather what I wanted to believe.  Besides, I was
going to be busy growing my new business; better to pull her out of
school after I was a little more settled.  No matter that she cried
every time I visited and begged me to take her home.

Flash forward 5 more years.  I was doing really well.  Phenomenal, you
might say.  My one plane had now become 5, including a medium jet I
used to chauffeur the wealthy.  I was making very good money, enough
to purchase a home on the ocean, have several pilots and attendants
and even my own mechanic staff, albeit very small.  I was doing well
and loving life.

Then I received the letter.  It had been a long time since I had
received one.

It was from Jamie and it broke my heart.  The school had an
opportunity, along with the neighboring boys' academy, for some
students to spend the summer traveling in South America - Brazil,
Columbia, Venezuela.  The only problem was a matter of chaperones. 
They needed two, at least one man and one woman, to chaperone the 20
girls and 7 boys who would be going.  They had found a woman to
chaperone but they could not find a man.

Jamie had volunteered me.  She signed the letter "It's the very least
you can do".

I wept in shame.  I knew, in that moment, that I had failed my father.

I called the school and agreed to do it.  Furthermore, I told them I
would gladly take them myself on a charter plane.  The school was
willing to go via commercial air, but I eventually talked them into
it.  It was, perhaps, the biggest mistake I've ever made.  And that is
saying something.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+