Chapter 2
Applause rang through the auditorium and people sprang to their feet to give Jane Horner a standing ovation. Her speech, pitched between intellect and emotion, had stirred them. Their enthusiasm engulfed her like a warm, comfortable cloud and Jane's face broke into a radiant smile. This was one of the rewards for hard work, she told herself. When you took an apathetic public and moved them one tiny fraction of an inch, you really accomplished something!
She blew them kisses as they continued to clap. Moving across the auditorium, Jane's eyes caught the two American flags and the red, white, and blue banner, "PUT DOWN POT! BRING OUR YOUTH BACK TO MORALITY!" A warm feeling spread through her body. Yes, this made the back-breaking schedule, the countless hours on planes, those vicious attacks on her by certain elements of society and all the hard work worthwhile.
Her knees felt suddenly weak and Jane put her hands up to stop the applause. She sat down while Reverend Morton stood to close the meeting with a prayer. Her head bent, Jane stared into the untouched plate of food in front of her. Twelve peas, one scoop of cold mashed potatoes, and a scrawny half-chicken, undercooked and tasteless. The caterers always charged high prices and delivered food no one would touch. Do they count the peas, she wondered? At lunch in Des Moines there had been eleven peas. Tonight there were twelve. And that poor scrawny bird! They must have searched long and hard to find him, she thought bitterly.
Jane caught herself in mid-thought. Why this wasn't like her at all! For Jane, life had always been a miracle, a great joy, something to savor and look forward to the next exciting moment. There were so many unhappy people in the world, living absolutely miserable lives and starving to death! One should take joy in life and shout thanks to the Creator for making it such a marvelous experience! Jane knew what misery and loneliness were, and she knew that only the individual could overcome these mortal enemies of man. It took guts and determination though, and Jane lived in a fear that she would never be able to explain this to others.
At twenty-three, Jane Horner was something of a sensation. Time and Newsweek had written her up in the last few months, and Life had scheduled an interview with her this fall. She'd appeared on several of the network TV shows, and her fan mail had now reached over a thousand letters a week. Yet Jane Horner had begun life alone, with no relatives to help and guide her. The product of an illicit love affair, Jane had been left on the steps of an orphanage.
With a fierce will and a pragmatic belief in what was right and wrong, Jane had overcome her doubtful beginning. When she entered high school and found the other children smoking marijuana, taking dope and engaging in immoral sex acts together, Jane found her cause. She began studying all she could find on marijuana, encouraged others to join her in her crusade and organized secret groups who would report offenders to the police. The school authorities asked her to lecture the student body on the evils of marijuana, and that lecture launched Jane's career.
Committees were formed all over the Midwest and speaking invitations followed Jane wherever she traveled. Contributions poured in from the nation's Bible Belt, and before long Jane Horner headed a financially strong and powerful organization dedicated to alerting the public to the dangers of marijuana and calling on them to help stamp this dread scourge from the land.
Jane knew that her physical attributes were a great asset to her cause. People were always surprised to find a beautiful young girl at the head of such an organization, and the press gave her face and figure added attention in the nation's newspapers. Jane's petite body was rounded with curves that on anyone else would have been considered voluptuous, but her beautiful face with the small dimples that dotted her smile framed with golden blonde hair that cascaded in soft willowy curls to her shoulder made Jane look like the fresh apple pie version of the All American Girl. Her true beauty was something you caught after you studied her for a moment. Pale blue eyes that sparkled against her creamy white complexion gave her a virginal look other girls envied.
Jane Horner is a virgin-emphatically so! Morality is more than a word to Jane, it's a code, a belief, a precious human attribute to be guarded with one's very life if necessary! Many ardent swains had found that Jane took morality seriously. Even Peter....
A warm, pleasant feeling flowed through Jane as she thought of Peter Reskin. She knew that she had at last found the perfect man, and she was certain he would ask her to marry him soon. She hoped it would be soon! She felt so guilty about the things she did to herself with her finger in bed alone after a date with Peter. Even if it was wicked, Jane just couldn't help herself. Peter aroused things in her she never knew existed. That demanding itch between her legs frightened her. It was something she didn't understand, something she didn't know how to cope with, and something that was becoming more urgent as each day passed.
"Amen," the crowd said in unison. Chairs shuffled and people stood up, gathering in tight little knots to talk for a moment before they left. The local dignitaries came forward to shake Jane's hand and congratulate her on an inspiring speech. She stood and took each hand offered, muttering an automatic "thank you."
But Jane's mind was wrestling with a more pressing problem. Here she was, at the pinacle of her career with thousands of people depending on her. She had lovely clothes, a modest but attractive apartment and a substantial savings account. Her work was truly a joy for her, and she had more friends than most people made in a lifetime. Yet Jane Horner was unhappy.
For the past several months she had awakened almost every night near midnight, tears running from her eyes, sweat pouring from her forehead and a deep sobbing coursing through her body. Several times she had screamed, an unknown terror gripping her entire body. This was the first time Jane had ever experienced nightmares, and she was at a loss to understand what brought these black clouds crashing down upon her in her sleep.
And in the last several weeks there were the dizzy spells. She could be standing talking to someone when she would suddenly feel dizzy. Once she would have fallen to the floor if a man hadn't caught her. At first the spells had gone away almost immediately, but now they were lasting for as long as ten minutes. She would sit with her head swirling through a stark white void, using every ounce of her will to gain control of herself.
Her enthusiasm and bounce, which a few short months ago were spontaneous, now had to be forced. Jane Horner was tired-very tired.
Worse than all that, Jane, for the first time in her life, had doubts. Just last week she was testifying in juvenile court against a fifteen-year-old pusher. She'd done this a dozen times before, knowing that she was serving a moral society by helping weed out the bad apples. But this time she doubted. It was just for a moment, the moment she looked into those young eyes staring at her, but it shot through her like a knife plunged into her breast. She'd only hesitated for a moment, but her moment of weakness appalled her.
Doctor Bill had told her last week that she had to slow down, that she was pushing herself at a breakneck pace that would kill her. He said she was exhausted, and Jane was beginning to think he was right.
It happened that same night.
Jane had to run to catch her plane back to Omaha. When she arrived, she took a cab to her apartment house. Jane paid the driver, pulled her heavy brief case from the back seat and started up the steps to the front door. The taxi driver was about to pull away when he saw Jane's body stiffen for a moment and then collapse on the third step. The brief case fell from her hand, the catch opening and spewing its contents on the sidewalk. He jumped out of the cab and ran to her inert body. Relieved that her pulse was all right, the driver picked her up to carry her inside. His hand cupped her breast and he was surprised by the feel of the firm, full globe hidden beneath her conservative dress. I'll bet she's a great piece of ass, he thought to himself as he carried her up the stairs. Jane was oblivious to the several squeezes he gave her breast, but he smiled as he noted that the nipple became erect and taut under the pressures of his fingers.
Things were blurred and the room was spinning as she regained consciousness. Everything was vaguely familiar, but Jane had no idea where she was. For a moment she thought the black terror had crashed in on her again, but then she saw that she was still in street clothes. Someone was standing beside her. Who was it? She could make out the outline, but everything was still too blurred.
"Jane, are you all right?"
"Oh, thank God you're here, Doctor Bill! Where am I?"
"In your own room. How do you feel?"
"I'm not sure. Dizzy. And my head hurts. What happened?"
"You fainted on the sidewalk in front of the building. The taxi driver carried you up here and Mildred Thatcher down the hall called me. It's a good thing I live at the Broadmore around the corner."
He took her wrist in his gentle hand and counted her pulse. Satisfied, he shook a thermometer to bring the mercury down and put it in her mouth.
The strong smell of alcohol drifted to Jane's nose and caused her nostrils to flare momentarily.
"Doctor Bill, what's wrong with me lately?"
"Don't talk. Give me a chance to find out. Offhand, though, I'd say it's a plain and simple case of physical and emotional exhaustion. Last week I warned you this would happen, but you refused to listen to me."
He took a hypodermic syringe from his bag and pierced the rubber cap on a small vial, drawing a clear liquid into the glass cylinder.
"I'm going to give you a strong sedative, something that will knock you out and give you some much needed rest."
He took her arm gently in his hand, lanced the skin with the sharp needle and slowly forced the sedative into her system. Then he took the thermometer from her mouth, read it, nodded to himself and replaced it in the black plastic container. Snapping his bag shut, he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Jane, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I have to insist that you slow down. Unless I miss my guess, there's not a thing wrong with you that a few weeks of complete rest and relaxation won't cure. You've been pushing yourself too hard trying to carry a load that would kill two weaker people. You're only twenty-three, but you're worn out! If you keep this pace up, you may never see your twenty-fourth birthday-and I'm not kidding you one bit!
"Nobody can keep up the pace you've set. Your mind and your body are rebelling. They're warning you that they can't go on like this."
Jane looked up into the kindly face, his soft gray eyes conveying a meaning to her. Here is someone who truly cares about me, she thought, as a blissful relaxation flowed through her veins. And he's right, I can't go on like this. He has known me from my days in the orphanage, and he certainly knows the limits of my body. She opened her eyes briefly as his voice cut through the mist surrounding her.
"I've told Mildred to cancel all of your speaking engagements for the next thirty days. Reverend James can fill in for you on most of them, and the cause won't suffer.
"I'm having your phone disconnected for the next couple of weeks, and I don't want you leaving the apartment. I'll be by every day, and we'll see if we can't build you back up."
"You won't have any trouble from me, Doctor Bill. Tonight has made a believer out of me!"
Jane heard the latch on the front door snap as she sunk into a soft, billowy pink cloud, the world far behind her.
The change was almost immediate. She remained in bed for the first three days, drifting in and out of an euphoric state of complete relaxation. On the fourth day she got up, took a very hot and completely relaxing bath, and stood before the full-length mirror rubbing the soft towel over her skin. She looked at her proud breasts with the strawberry nipples that crested her snowy white skin.
Jane was proud of her breasts, but she always concealed them under loose-fitting, conservative garments, afraid that she would somehow cause men to lust after her.
The V where her creamy white thighs joined was a protruding mound covered with a soft, silky patch of golden blonde hair. As her eyes gazed at her reflection, Jane thought she saw the pink lips of her vagina form a pout. She shook herself violently to cast off such evil thoughts and pulled a robe around her.
The strength flowed back through her. She read almost constantly, and she felt both her mind and body sharpen to a keen edge. Bill Martin was pleased and enthusiastic about her recovery. He gave her daily reports from Mildred Thatcher about the progress of the organization, and he was pleased to see that Jane didn't try to go right back to work.
"I feel like a new woman," she told him one afternoon. "You've done miracles for me, but it's been almost ten days now. Shouldn't I think about getting back to work?"
"I was wondering when you'd begin feeling some anxiety about your work again, and I think we're at the stage where we can discuss that now. Your recovery has been excellent. You look and feel like a new person, Jane, but that's not the whole story.
"If you went back to work today, you'd be back in the same shape again within a few short months."
Jane walked over to the window. As she watched a gentle breeze filter through the beautiful elm trees that lined the quiet street below, Jane had a vague suspicion Doctor Bill was trying to tell her something, something that might even alter the entire course of her life.
"I don't understand," she said, turning to look deeply into his soft gray eyes. "Is there something organically wrong with me, something serious?"
"Not at all. All of the tests we've done in the past week have come up negative. You're in excellent health, physically. What I'm trying to tell you is that the same mental exhaustion which caused this attack of nerves will come right back and cause another if you don't realign your life some."
"Are you saying I had a nervous breakdown?"
"For lack of a better definition, yes. You put yourself under too much pressure, carried too big a load, shouldered too much responsibility. I'm not trying to tell you to quit, Jane, but damn it, you simply have to slow down! Let some of the others carry part of the load!"
"You offend me when you swear like that. I thought you were a bigger person than to have to resort to common, vulgar language like that," she said as she moved to her chair by the window and sat down. Jane saw a momentary frown cross Doctor Bill's face, but he moved to her and took her hand with a gentle pressure.
"I'm sorry. It's seldom one finds someone true to their beliefs. Look, Jane, I've been making some arrangements and I want you to follow my advice."
Jane averted his eyes and looked out the window, letting the familiar scene reassure her. She had no idea of what was coming, but a warning inside her made her dread what he was about to say.
"I want you to take a couple of weeks completely away from your work. You can sit down, relax and analyze exactly where you're going. Think about the organization. Consider how it can be changed to let others carry part of your load. Arrange it so that an eight-hour day is all that's required of you. And then begin thinking about having a personal life, one that's completely separated from your work. If you can do all of this, your recovery will be complete and you won't have to worry about another attack."
Still avoiding his searching eyes, Jane continued gazing at the quiet neighborhood she loved so well. "You said a moment ago that you had made some arrangements?"
"Yes, and I want you to approve them. You know the conference on narcotic and drug control being held in Mexico City later this month?"
"Yes, but that's for scientific people only, isn't it?"
"Reverend James contacted a doctor here who made arrangements with a Dr. Gorman in Mexico City, and we have an invitation for you to attend. Reverend James' congregation and another church group are footing the bill for your trip. What I want you to do is fly down to Mexico City at the end of this week."
"But the conference isn't until the end of the month."
"Exactly! That will give you two weeks or better away from everything. You can relax, see the sights and begin reorganizing your life. It's a tailor-made opportunity. I've made all your reservations, and here's a letter to a good friend of mine, Robert Cutter, at the American Embassy in Mexico City. He'll look out for you and take care of anything you may need. I want you to go and see him as soon as you arrive. I've already written him that you're coming.
"And before you offer me any arguments, Mildred Thatcher and Reverend James assure me that they and the others can handle everything here. You'll be missed, but they'll carry on your work."