On the morning after that memorable pyjama party night, we girls (and the boy... sorry, Jeff) went back home, one after the other, each of us accompanied by fierce headaches but with smiles on our lips. Just before, clever and provident Uma had wisely supplied everybody with Ibuprofen, along with a light breakfast.  We were not very hungry. That had been some night! We were not sure we could remember everything that had been said, not even sure that it was all worth remembering, some of it was probably even better to be forgotten... We hugged each other profusely, promising ourselves that we would have that kind of fun together more often, although we knew it would be even more difficult to keep the men out of the way next time. As much as we had loved to spend that night together, we were rather in hurry and happy to go home.

I sure was, in hurry to go home, and back to my man... (sigh!) 'My man'... it still sounded odd to my ear and this very idea also sounded odd to my mind, but I had to admit that it felt good. In spite of my hurry, I was, as often, last to leave. It's one of the problems of my life: I always have something to do or something to tell somebody at the last minute. This has always got on John's nerves, he just can't understand it. I use to say (with a lot of mauvaise foi, I must admit it) that it's not my fault, I was born late and just kept on being late during my whole life. And I can't do anything to change that, even if I want badly to please his organised and precise sheriff's mind, always right on time. Nothing surprising after all, I'm a woman... just perhaps a little worse than the average.

After having thanked and hugged Uma who was alone in the Pub (Dino and Hando were so happy to have their women back, they had both taken them out for the day), I sat in my car, finally ready to leave. I was humming a romantic song, thinking that soon, very soon, I would be in my sweet, sweet man's strong but tender arms. Although, after this night, I wondered if he would still be that sweet, having probably had a night of his own. This man just loves to spend time with his mates even when it involves some troubles! And, while it sometimes annoyed me, I have to admit that it's also one of the numerous things I love in him. He can be so kind, friendly and reasonable, always having a nice and wise word for a friend, but he can also break loose and get into troubles. I love both his wise, thoughtful side and his wild, funny one, amongst many other things... He calls himself a simple man, but there's so much more in him than he lets show. And I'm still exploring!

My daydream vanished when, after the third try, the engine still refused to start.  I knew better than to insist with that car, it can be as stubborn sometimes as... as a man.

"Fichue voiture!" I cursed.

I reached for my cell phone to call John (miracle, for once, I knew where it was and didn't have to look for it everywhere!). Of course, when things are going that well, there's no reason why they shouldn't go on, is there?  No more battery (what is it with women and cell phone batteries?). Although I wanted dearly to go home, I knew that it was no use getting upset for something you can't change and walked back to the Pub in order to ask Uma if I could use her phone. The plans I had in mind for us when I would meet John again would just be a little delayed, that's all.

It was really not my day: John had been called on duty and couldn't leave just then. That's the bad part of being a sheriff: you can't just wear the tin star, you must also deserve it and this includes being available night and day, days off and all. Poor baby, if the men's night had been as... animated as ours (and I certainly had no doubts about that) he was probably suffering the same headache as mine... but the difference was that he had to work with it. All I had to do was to wait for him in the Pub. Uma couldn't let the bar alone to drive me home.  John promised he would do his best to come and pick me up as soon as he could. For a while, I must confess that my tired and tortuous brain wondered if this couldn't be kind of a revenge because I had refused to go back home this night, leaving him alone (at least, I hoped he was!) in spite of his insistence (it had been hard to resist him!). But I chased this idea away. Not John. There's not an ounce of spitefulness in that man and he would never think of revenge...???...  Nawww, not him... Or would he...? We never know what kind of idea, either a crazy or a clever one, can take shape in his active brain. But no, definitively no, I could have done this, not him.

So I had to wait in the Pub. No problem, stay positive girl, I told to myself; if I couldn't go home, there were many worse things to do than to keep company with Uma. Actually when I thought about it, I realised that our friend was not her old self these days, although she was trying hard to pretend she was. She wasn't aware of it but her smile always was a sad one recently. She was still funny and witty, always taking care of the others... but who was taking care of her? Stupid, stupid men! Couldn't they see what they were missing? They probably thought that she was the kind of woman who doesn't need anybody... but as free and independent as she could be, I'm not sure that there's one single woman on earth who doesn't need strong arms and a friendly male shoulder to support her when she feels lost.

It was still early and the Pub was very quiet. In fact, it was empty since all the girls had left. It was amazing to hear how deep the silence could be when nobody was in the place. It was easy to understand how Ann, then Uma, had felt the pressure of this silence... along with an unknown and unwanted presence. Although 'this presence' hadn't showed up during our crazy night.

Uma was having a tea and instantly proposed a coffee to me after I explained her that I was probably here for a while. We sipped our warm drinks quietly, feeling at ease with each other, lost in our own thoughts.

After few minutes, Uma put her cup down and took a long look into my face. 

"Clarity, if you don't want to talk about this anymore, it's alright with me and I'll understand, but are you sure you're OK with what you told us last night?"

I jumped. My mind had been wandering far away, and I felt suddenly uncomfortable when remembering what I had said... I wondered why I had done that. I hadn't been thinking about this for years and thought it was forgotten, for good. Why had I just told that now and here? Because of the booze? Well, probably... but not only. It was not the first time I got drunk (hey, give me a break: I was not the only one then... and I can give names away!) and had never, ever told this to anybody before. No, it was more than that. Probably because I felt at ease with these friendly and understanding women who became my friends during the past months and were now important parts of my life.

I looked silently and absently into my cup of coffee during long minutes, hesitating, then finally simply answered. 

"I'm OK, thank you, Uma."

At the same time, I wanted to tell more to Uma, thinking that, if my subconscious had decided to release this old secret last night and allowed me to tell it, even briefly, it could mean that it was time for me to speak about it to somebody. I had always thought that it had not been something that important in my life, and never felt before that I should talk about it to anybody. Until this night. It just, simply came out of the blue. Each girl was talking about her sexual past then. After having been rather quiet for a while and avoiding the most embarrassing questions, I suddenly let it go. What a damper it put on the party! If they had not been seated or sprawled on cushions on the floor, most of the girls would probably have fallen on their ass then... including myself. Clarity, the happy, optimistic Clarity who always wanted (OK, not always, but as often as possible) to see in life the half full part of a glass rather than the half empty one, that same Clarity was the one who was spoiling the good humour of this funny night by telling such a pitiful story. Wrong timing, girl! But obviously, neither my brain, nor my feelings were in charge at that time: the words my mouth was speaking out then were coming straight from my subconscious.

The first surprise digested, the girls and the boy had been very understanding, not asking for any details, probably uncomfortable with this sudden, unexpected and disturbing disclosure. I had noticed Marie's amazed and sad look. In spite of the times, both good and bad, we had shared together, I hadn't ever told her anything. It was the same for Gaia, and Uma, and Ann, and Heather and all these friends. I had felt my cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

After a moment of uneasy silence, Ann had thrown a funny joke and the good mood had come back again. I was thankful to my friends for that and could have hugged them all for it (perhaps I did... can't remember!). And not a word about it this morning.  Good. The last thing I wanted was that this could change my friends' look on me in the future, I couldn't bear any kind of pity, I didn't want anybody to feel sorry for me, not even and above all not myself. After all, everybody in their life gets one day or other his own millstone around his neck and just has to cope and grow up with it. I was no exception.

While these thoughts were running in my mind, I didn't notice that Uma was still silently looking at me. And she read probably more in my silence than my words would have expressed if only I had let them out again.

She respected my silence. But, suddenly without any warning, she stunned me by starting to talk, answering to unspoken questions that were probably obsessing her as much as mine were obsessing me right now.

"Clarity..." She covered her face with her hands for a moment before continuing. "...I need to talk to someone. I almost blurted something out last night but...it was too difficult with all the girls there and with Jeff... I mean he's so sweet and sensitive but he's still a man and...anyway I wasn't drunk like the rest of you so maybe my inhibitions were not so loosened..."

Her rambling style revealed her uneasiness; I placed my hand on her arm to slow her down. "What is it, chérie? If you need to tell me something...you know I will always listen..."

She breathed out slowly and composed herself then looked me straight in the eye. "I think I might be pregnant. I'm late and I'm never late. I think Alex is the father. And I don't know what to do..."

At that she started to cry softly, tears rolling down her cheeks as she scrabbled for a tissue in her pocket and dabbed at her face. For a moment I simply sat and stared, taking my time to let the startling news sink in.

"Mon Dieu! Why didn't you say...? Does Alex know?" I gasped. 

She shook her head."I don't know where he is. I don't even know how he will react. Clarity, Alex and I...we're not a couple and I can't expect him to simply take up with me again merely because of a baby. That would never work. Maybe it's best if he doesn't know..."

"Do you want the child? You have to decide quickly..."

"I know. I've been thinking and thinking and...Clarity...I don't think I'll be much cop as a mother. I never really wanted to be, you know? Well, I just thought...one day when I'm grown up and sensible and have a partner....I am grown up now and I'm never going to be sensible and I don't think I shall ever have a partner so...maybe I should just...you know...be a single mother? Lots of women are. Clarity...I can't get rid of a baby. I just can't. I keep thinking this might be my only chance. I think about Marie and what happened to her and Bud. How could I simply get rid of a child - what would they think of me...?"

"You mustn't think of anyone else but you now...Marie and Bud would understand. But Alex has a right to know. It is his baby too."

"I know. I don't know how to find him..."

I thought about that. "Ask Terry. He can find anyone, he has all the inside methods..."

"NO!" Her face registered horror at the thought. "I don't want him to know...!"

And then the irony of it all dawned on me. How bitter life can be! "Uma, chérie, he will soon know...this is not something you can keep hidden for long..."

She hid her face in her hands and whispered that she knew that. I slipped my arm around her shoulder and held her awhile, thinking about what this would mean for her and her life. She would be a good mother. She had plenty of friends to support her. Her little baby would have so many proud 'uncles', all fine male role models.

But, even so, she would be alone and probably less likely than ever to find a man of her own to share her life with - for how many are willing to take on another man's child? I felt angry and frustrated by the cruel vagaries of our lives that strike us in the most malicious ways. The joy of a child weighed against the sadness of losing the one man she wanted? How could that be a fair choice for any woman?

"Does Heather know?" I whispered.

She shook her head. "No one but you. I kept it to myself."

"You need to share this with others now. Heather can ask Dino to find Alex. Talk it over with him. And you know that whatever help I can be...or John too, for I know he will never let you down...you only have to ask us...we will always be here for you both..."

She dried her eyes and managed a smile before hugging me and telling me how she couldn't go on without her friends. She was so grateful for letting her unburden herself on me. It had helped so much. It made me think too. None of us can really exist alone, whatever we think.

I was so stunned by all I had just heard. I didn't know what else I could say ... but, in the depth of my mind, of my heart, I knew that she was not expecting any more word back from me about it. She didn't need me to comment the amazing and painful revelation she had just made. And I was impressed by the courage it must have taken her to tell me all this. Why had she told me? Because she needed to talk to somebody and it happened that I was just the only one 'somebody' here? No, it was not only that. Because of what I had told last night...? A women's solidarity in a crisis? A feeling that only somebody who had been hurt too could understand? An exchange of trust?

Uma was not looking at me anymore, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, but her face looked a little more relaxed, as if she was really relieved to have shared her secret, even if it hadn't solved her problem. She had just told me that to have put words on her worries had helped her to unload part, even if a small one, of her burden... the burden of the future...

She was relieved to have shared her secret... to unload the burden of the... past.... 

This sentence echoed in my mind. Like Uma did before, without a warning, I just started to talk in an impersonal tone, as if making a report, almost a 'Terry-on-duty' tone. No emotions. Just facts.

"It was soft and warm," I said, my eyes focused on an invisible point, like reading inside my own memory. "He asked me to stroke him. And I did. Once. It was soft and warm."

I became silent again. 

"How did it happen" asked Uma softly, not wanting to disturb me in my memories, instantly stopping thinking about her own fears and worries to be available for her friend, in this way so typical of Uma.

After another moment of silence, I started to talk again, still without looking at her, still tense:  "I was four years old, a happy little girl, surrounded by my family's love. I was playing alone in our backyard; my parents were busy. It was a long time ago and parents were not as aware as they are today of these awful things that can happen to little girls. That man was at the far end of a dark path connecting the backyard to a small street, near a gate that used to be closed. I don't remember how he talked me into coming to him. I was a friendly child, always ready to talk with anybody. Don't remember his face, don't remember his voice. I don't remember much detail. I just remember this: he asked me to stroke his sex... and I did. It was soft to the touch, and warm. I thought I had forgotten it but, in fact, I know now that this feeling has been with me all my life. He was gentle, no violence, no harsh words, he spoke softly to that little girl who was still almost a baby. But even a little girl's mind could realize, probably by instinct, that this was not normal, that it was not supposed to be that way between a grown up man and a little girl.  I think I must have run away and told my parents about that man who said he would give me plenty of ice creams if I stroked him again. I was proud to tell them I had said no, but I didn't know why. I will never know what they really felt then and what happened in their grown up world after this. All I know is that they didn't panic and told me that I had done right, I was a good girl and they would give me tons of ice creams if I said no again to that man if he ever came back. He never did. I never talked about this again. Just once, I think I remember my father, much later, telling me that it was a young unknown man who left the village immediately after that. I reckon he had been asked not very nicely to do so.

"How did you cope with that?" asked Uma softly again. This time, when I answered her, my eyes were focused on her, not anymore on this invisible point... maybe this little girl, shadow from my past, ghost of my lost innocence.

"You know, I didn't think about this very often along the years, and when I did, it was just a flash memory of this recurrent sensation: warm and soft. I was convinced, or wanted to be, that it had not been an important thing in my life and, on the very few times I really thought about it, it was just to tell myself that it was not so serious after all, it could have been much worse, there had been no rape, no violence, no trauma...although a psychologist would probably say that the trauma was bigger than I thought. And he would be right."

I stopped again. 

"And ?" asked Uma, less by curiosity to know all the details of this disturbing story - she already got the picture and understood - than because she felt that I needed to say more about it. That all had not been said yet.

"And I never have had sex with anybody during all these years. I liked men, and discovered pleasure when my body asked for it, like any teenager. Just never associated both, I mean, men and sex. I met dozens of men during these past years, having to make my own place in a men's world, a world in which very few females were accepted and acknowledged then:  the horse world.  I think I succeeded rather well to win respect and friendship from my male fellows, not been afraid or impressed by them."

Laughing, I added: "I think I heard more stories (true or not...) about sex than regular women probably will during their whole life because, even if I have never been considered as one of them by the men, they felt at ease with me. Probably just because there was nothing sexual in me, even though Mother Nature has been kind enough to give me feminine attributes that men like Jack can hardly ignore. So, if I heard a lot about sex, I just never experienced it. I've been in love some times, but it was only platonic love. Strangely, these men who loved me then never asked of me something that they knew by instinct I wouldn't have been able to give them. And I never have had to explain them why - they just never asked. Who said that men can't be sensitive sometimes? Or was it only cowardice?"

I laughed again, so did Uma. 

"I have been thinking all my life that it was just because I hadn't met the right man, you know: THE man, or that perhaps it was simply just the way it would be for me 'til the end... but I didn't have any problem with this. Maybe because you can't miss something you don't know? Besides, life taught me that, when you can't change things, you must do your best to deal with them and accept them... or forget them."

"John? John was THE man, wasn't he?" asked Uma with a look of wonder. 

"John...." I repeated, and smiled at the thought of this wonderful man. Was he this Charming Prince I had been waiting for all my life? I kept on telling the story:

"When I saw Maximus on a TV screen some time ago, I felt something I had never felt before. And I felt that same thing each time I saw a new character with this same actor's face and body. It was an odd and new feeling for me.  When you opened this magical place which is the Pub, allowing us to meet them all, I just couldn't resist popping in to say Hi. As you know, I have been immediately and kindly accosted by sweet John Biebe and soon fell to his unassuming and irresistible charm. You teased me often enough about being smitten, remember?" We laughed together. I became serious again: "And, yes, he became THAT man.  I do love him with my whole heart and body, and I'm rather sure that he loves me too, he's not afraid of telling me so. I wish I could tell him back but I just can't.  I don't know how long he will love me - who knows what tomorrow has is store for us? But what's sure is that he has been and will stay forever the very one who awoke in me, with infinite patience and kindness, something I thought existed, but that I never felt with anybody else before. With him, from the very beginning, it never was a girl's love, it was a woman's one. He showed me, still does, what I was able to receive and to give, he opened for me doors of worlds I had heard or read about but never though they could be possible for me someday."

"Does he know?" 

"NON !... bien sûr que non! Are you crazy?" I felt ashamed of me when I realised that I had almost shouted this to my friend who was just trying to help me. She didn't seem surprised by my violent reaction. If she was, she didn't show it. I added more quietly: 

"When we first made love under the stars in that meadow few months ago, I didn't even hesitate. I knew he was the right man, and it was the right moment. This man would not hurt me, body or soul.  He would take care of this little girl who was still hidden deep inside me. I can say he was surprised himself when he found out that it was the very first time for me, because I was not a teenager anymore. But he didn't say anything, never asked me any question, he just loved me and held me tight. This sweet and understanding man was, still is, waiting for me to be ready to tell him... I was not. After, he just thanked me for having given him the gift of me. It moved me to tears, but I haven't been able then to tell him that he was the one who had made me the most precious present: he had given me back to myself."

"Why don't you tell him? Don't you think he has the right to know?" asked Uma. 

"I just can't, not yet, maybe not ever. I know men... well, at least part of them... I'm aware that I still have much to learn about them but I am an eager pupil, believe me. I'm even lucky enough to know a certain hockey player very willing to give me after work courses! 

"Seriously, I know that men handle that kind of revelation even much worse than women do, and I don't want him to feel uncomfortable with me about this. I don't want to lose him, and, if it had to happen someday (this place if full of temptation and we're both far from being perfect!), at least I don't want it to be because of that.

"In fact, I tried once to tell a good friend of mine about this. He didn't ask for it, I thought, like you just said, that he had a right to know it. I never finished the story. As soon as I started, he saw that something serious was coming, something he wouldn't like, and withdrew into his shell. That's when I learnt that men are uncomfortable with truth when it's disturbing. They cope differently from women with that kind of things. For them, if they don't think or talk about it, it just doesn't exist... But isn't that how most of us react, too?

Maybe they can't accept this because, being men, they feel guilty that another man could have done bad things to a woman, even more to a little girl? It makes them feel insecure and they probably wonder if they could have ever done it themselves. And, even if they're sure of the answer because they are good men, the question is still in their mind. At least, that's what I think. I'm not angry with men and I like them, always did, always will. May be I just can't trust them much and I feel more pity for them than anything else, because they are dominated by their physicality. Their body shouts its needs louder than ours... and unfortunately often shuts up their brain then. That's what comes to my mind when I think of that poor fellow who did that to this little girl years ago. What did he become later? What kind of man is he now? Was he really a very sick man? I don't think so because he has not been aggressive or violent with me, I think he was just in need, an irrepressible and uncontrollable need. And if so, if he's still alive and free, he may have children and even grandchildren of his own. Does he still think sometimes of this little girl that destiny put on his way, one day, in that dark path? How does he feel about this? Guilt? Remorse? No, I'm almost sure that he doesn't think anymore about it, about her, he just chased her away from his mind because it must be a painful memory, even for him, probably even more for him... She was the lamb, he was the wolf.

"And we both know it very well."

"It may be why I always found it hard to be dominated by anybody or anything, even my own body, like this man from my past had been. But with this man in my present, with John... he's so giving, both so sweet and so passionate. He never takes anything, just makes you want to give all you have to him, and even all you don't have, just to watch that bright smile lighten his handsome face and to see his beautiful soul shine through his eyes...just to make him happy. Like in my childhood dreams, this sheriff came from Dreamland to kill that bad man from my past; he killed his memory in my mind as well as in my body. And I feel sometimes that I could let him, not dominate me, it's not what he wants either, but take over. For once in my life, I think I could rest on somebody's strong shoulder, unload my burden. It's new for me to accept not to be in charge, even, and probably above all, of my own body.

So, there have been two important men in my life, besides my father, of course: the one who switched off my sexuality years ago, and the one who just switched it on few times ago. Both are almost equally important.

That's why I can't tell John. I don't want to put this heavy responsibility even on his broad shoulders. I love him too much to make him feel that male guilt toward a little girl from the past. I know he is always..."

"... here for you. I'm here, sweetheart". I jumped, surprised by the soft husky voice coming from behind me, and the warm familiar arms embracing me. John's voice sounded even softer than usual and, when I turned my head to look into his so expressive eyes, I thought I could see something different in them, like a relief, an understanding. But maybe was it only me, maybe was it only plainly... love? Had he been here for a long time? What exactly had he heard? I looked at Uma and just saw a large enigmatic smile on her face.

I turned and snuggled into John's arms, holding him tight and kissing him with all I was worth.

"John, you know it, don't you ?... you do know... how much I... I... je t'aime...?"