and there was a new shopping center on the edge of town. Denny felt disappointed at the changes. He had looked forward to driving the rural, winding roads he remembered to Walden Flats. He asked his father to take a cut-off which would take them through the center of the small town. His father agreed.
As they drove, Denny was glad his father had changed so little. His father looked a trifle dissipated, true, but Denny was proud of his father-his popularity in the town, his bearing, his carriage. Everyone in Walden Flats seemed to know and respect him. He still possessed a great sense of humor and he stood tail and straight, the way a chiropractor should, Denny thought.
Very possibly, the people whose necks he cracked and whose pulled muscles he treated, laughed as they exited his office. Even now, confident and erect behind the wheel, he kept them all laughing as he related stories about patients he had treated. Dr. Martin Reardon, Denny thought. He liked the sound of the title, even if chiropractors were thought by many to be quacks.
Really, Dr. Martin Reardon was in semi-retirement and, at forty-three, enjoying life to the hilt and pleased that Walden Flats had remained small and provincial. He didn't care about making a lot of money; he just loved the Oregon weather, the land, the people, everything. Joyce kept leaning over the seat and planting big kisses on her father's ruddy cheek as he drove. As they cruised through the main street of Walden Flats, Martin Reardon pointed out his office to Joyce and told her she could drop in anytime for an 'adjustment.' Glancing over his shoulder, he said, 'You don't even have to make an appointment, hon.'
They all laughed, and when they had sputtered and spasmed to silence again, Denny nudged his sister and pointed at the town square, an old-fashioned building atop a grassy knoll that had been converted into a movie theater. 'The road to Landon Pond is just behind it,' he told Joyce, and he shivered with excitement, remembering the good times there. He asked his father if the pond was still the same.
'Pretty much,' Martin said. 'The fishing's been good, they say, and it's supposed to be a little deeper. Oh, Denny, I saw Rex and Ray in town the other day. Told them you and Joyce were arriving soon. Fine boys-both of them. They're eager to see you and Joyce. You'll have to take Joyce and introduce her to everybody tomorrow. I imagine Rex's sister, Sue, and Joyce will have a lot in common.' Martin Reardon winked at his wife. 'Incidentally, Norma bought another bicycle, so you'll both have wheels this summer.'
Joyce squealed and leaned over and kissed her father again appreciatively.
Soon they passed tall redwoods and old-style houses, proceeding down the winding rural road Denny remembered so well. Finally, they swung into an even more secluded area and then pulled into a steep gravel driveway. The Reardon residence.
Joyce jumped out. 'Oh, it's beautiful!' she gasped. 'Just the way I visualized it. It's just the way you described it, Denny!' She drank in the multicolored flowers, the huge hedge surrounding the enormous green front lawn. Then, as Norma and their father took them on a tour of the house, Joyce seemed in a near state of hysterical rapture. The house was rustic looking from the outside, but the interior was elegantly furnished and modern. Denny thought his sister would have an orgasm when she saw the room where she and her brother would sleep. It had wall-to-wall carpeting, twin beds, with spreads that matched padded headboards. There was huge mirror and dressers against the opposite wall near their private bathroom. Joyce made appropriate, loud squeals and bounced up and down on the beds, which were spaced just four feet apart
Joyce pulled the cord, opening the drapes and stared through the big window enraptured at the verdant countryside: trees, patches of green surrounded by redwood fences, horses and cattle grazing in distant neighbors' yards.
'It's so wonderful I wish we could stay here for a year!' she cried, hugging her father.
'Well, maybe we can arrange for you to attend school here next year,' Martin Reardon said, patting his daughter's buttocks. Denny watched, wishing his father would keep his hands to himself!
Later that evening, Norma prepared dinner in the kitchen and Denny and Joyce sat in the living room with their father. Martin Reardon sipped his martini from the long-stemmed glass and questioned Denny and Joyce about their hobbies, school, every facet of their lives. His eyes were bright and his manner jovial as he listened to their answers. But he began making more and more trips to the kitchen to fix more martinis, and gradually his speech became slurred, his behavior silly.
In his conversations with Joyce, Denny had carefully omitted, at least minimized, their father's excessive drinking. But now he remembered what he had conveniently managed to forget. Watching his father, it seemed unbelievable that this could be the same self-assured man who had met them at the airport. His jaw was slack, his eyes dull, his manner sullen. He even spilled a drink all over himself, then picked up the lint-covered olive and ate it anyway.
Denny could see the terrible disappointment all over his sister's face. 'Are you all right, daddy?' she asked. 'You must be tired, daddy?'
'Yeah, your old man's just a little tired, sugar,' he muttered. That's right. Pretty goddam sick and tired of lots of things.' He stood up, cupping his hands at his mouth. 'Goddam it, Norma! You get a rag in here and clean this mess up, hear? Now!'
Norma entered timidly and mopped up the mess with a big sponge. As she bent over, working, Martin Reardon goosed her. 'That'sh my li'l piece o' tail,' he slobbered. 'Whooeee! Is she a tigress in the sack! Unh-unh- unh,' he grunted, thrusting his hips.
Controlling herself, Norma quickly returned to the kitchen without replying. Martin Reardon called after her. 'My son and daughter come all the way from San Francisco and can't even get a goddam meal in their old man's house! Come on, huh? Where the fuck's our dinner?'
'Coming up, dear,' Norma called pleasantly. 'Be on the table in a minute.'
Joyce looked aghast at her brother, then crossed the room and sat on the damp arm of her father's chair. 'We can wait, daddy,' she cooed. 'We're not that hungry.' With her index finger, she toyed with his long sideburn. Clumsily, he encircled her waist with his long arm and pulled her into his lap. He gave her a loud kiss, right on her breast, then grinned at her stupidly. 'Yes siree, my little girl's all grown up now. Wow! Are you ever!' He planted a hungry kiss on her neck and his hand dropped to her inner thigh and moved slowly back and forth.
Joyce glanced at her brother searchingly, as if seeking an answer to her predicament. Angrily, Denny stood up. 'I'm gonna see if Norma needs any help in the kitchen,' he said. But he stood pausing in the dining room, watching.
Martin Reardon was staring hungrily, without the slightest attempt at subtlety, at his daughter's breasts as his hand inched slowly up Joyce's leg. 'Boy, are you grown up,' he repeated, mumbling and making kissing sounds as he stared at the twin mounds very near his face.
Joyce caught her father's hand by the wrist before it reached her vagina. Watching, it disturbed Denny that his sister was obviously filled with mixed emotions. The hand had toyed with the elastic band of her panties before she had pulled it away. Good God! he thought. Not only did he lust after their stepmother-apparently Joyce was developing a thing for their father! It was going to be a weird vacation all right.
Joyce asked her father if he would like a cup of coffee, but he declined and screamed again about dinner. 'Wher's the fuckin' food!' He held his hand at his mouth then, focusing his eyes with difficulty. 'Shouldn't use that kinda language in front of my li'l daughter, eh?' he said, giggling. 'Well, I gotta celebrate my kids' arrival, you know?' And he stroked Joyce's ass and nibbled at her ear.
Denny couldn't watch it any more. He went on into the kitchen. 'What can I do to help?' he asked.
Norma was briskly mashing potatoes. 'You just relax, dear,' Norma said. 'I must apologize for your father's behavior. He was very excited about your arrival, you see. He's had too much to drink. Please forgive him.'
'Yeah, and if I remember correctly, he used to get excited all the time.' Denny kissed his stepmother's cheek. Then, smiling, he boldly put his arm around her waist. 'I hope he's been good to you,' Denny said, feeling a tingle in his groin.
'Sometimes better than others,' Norma admitted. 'Mainly, I worry about his practice. He has a nine o'clock patient in the morning.' She shook her head.
Denny let his grip tighten just a little about her waist and he was certain he detected a trace of the lust they had shared last summer. Yes, some of the same physical attraction seemed to be flowing between them, even though Norma was busy fixing dinner and the yelling continued from the yelling room. Well, he would just have to wait and see. There was plenty of time.
There were flowers on the table when they all sat down to eat. Denny lit the candles, and then the nightmare began. Martin Reardon dominated the conversation and actually ate his roast beef and vegetables with
