Respect Pt. 01

Respect

Slow burn. All sexually active participants are 18+. No persons, living or dead, are portrayed in this fictional account.

I chickened out and changed the original draft so you, the reader, would get more enjoyment than the author and to allow chapter 2.

I walked the paddy dike, focused entirely on the tree line ahead of us...

Perhaps I should start at the beginning rather than the middle.

I'm James Paul Henderson, born in June 1951. I'm part of a twinset, with Connie Marie Henderson my other half. Growing up, I wasn't a giant footballer nor a shy academic (Nerd wasn't invented yet). I was big, slender, and quick. I ended up playing baseball from little league to lettering in it in high school. By my senior year, age 17, I was 5'10" and 175 pounds. Light brown hair, kept short, and brown eyes. I'd been told that I was good looking, but not outstanding. Although I had light brown hair on my head, my beard came in dark when I was 14. Likewise, my body pelt came in heavy.

Connie was cute, no, beautiful. Middling sized at 5'3" and slender like everyone in the family. Reasonably chest development, maybe C, at 15. She wasn't much of an athlete, nor interested in academics. She wasn't stupid, just not interested in spending the time to really learn. I called it intellectually lazy. She was a follower, not a leader.

We grew up in a home that was intensely patriotic. Dad was a marine, wounded on Iwo Jima, and then again in the Inchon landing in the Korean War after being called back in. Mom was a Rosie the Riveter during WW II. We lived in a red, white, and blue environment. It stuck with me, but didn't cling well to Connie.

Connie's and my relationship through our high school years wasn't a lot different from many others. We didn't have any other siblings and only two distant cousins our age. That's to say, our relations with each other were up and down. There were times when we were the best of friends. Nothing we wouldn't do for the other. Then there were times when we hardly spoke to each other. Certainly, until we reached junior high school, we were best buddies. Maybe puberty started pushing us apart, as we became less close. In high school, we seldom interacted outside of home. It was a big school, so not being in the same classes wasn't unusual. We never consciously avoided each other and did interact when we ran into each other.

I regret our relationship developed the way it did. I always had a place in my heart for her. Don't think I was in love, or anything like that, but what did I know? What does any 15 year-old know? I just liked to be with her. She didn't appreciate me trying to remain close. She felt I was smothering her. Guess I reacted by giving her more space. Think now that was a big mistake. If I kept trying, I think she would have realized that I only wanted to be brother/sister and friends. Water under the bridge.

We both started dating when we were 15 years old. Mom or Dad our taxi drivers. When we turned 17, our senior year, we were allowed to drive the family's second car. Of course, that mainly meant me since boys picked her up for dates. I don't know about her, but I was a virgin when we graduated.

We graduated from high school at 17, turning 18 two days later. Since the commencement ceremony had us sit alphabetically, this was the first and last time I sat next to her. Immediately after the ceremony, we each went our separate ways to meet up with friends (after hugs from Mom and Dad). This was before graduation parties became popular.

Two weeks later I was raising my right hand and saying I would defend my country against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Much to Dad's disappointment, I joined the army, rather than the marines.

From graduation till the morning I left, I only saw Connie for a few minutes. She was busy partying and enjoying the warm weather at the pool. That morning, Mom woke her up and told her to come down for breakfast. "Not hungry."

"Too bad, but you're still coming down. Brush your teeth and be down in 15 minutes."

"Why should I? I'm 18 and an adult."

"Well, miss adult, you still live at home, use our car and our money, so you'll be down in 15 minutes - and I don't mean 16 minutes."

Connie apparently got the message and showed up. I was dressed in real clothes, not shorts and a T-shirt. She walked in and looked at me. "Really? Kind of overdressed, aren't you?"

Dad said, "He's leaving for army basic training in two hours, so we thought you might like to say goodbye."

She did a double take, "What? You've joined the army? Are you nuts? What about college? Summer fun?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"They'll send you to Vietnam to kill people or get killed. What do you care about the Vietnamese?"

"We're in a war there. I believe in doing my duty, just as Dad and Mom did."

"No. No. You can't be doing this. You can't."

To this day, I'm not sure if she was going to miss me or just thought I was crazy. She jumped up and ran out of the breakfast nook. "Connie, wait, please. At least give me a hug."

She didn't slow down. I started to follow her, but Dad said, "Let her go. She needs to think about it. I'm sure she'll be here to see you off."

I didn't think she would be, but didn't want to argue with Dad. Turns out I was right. She didn't return. When they put me on the bus, she was nowhere to be found.

Dad was really pissed. Mom only slightly less so. When she finally showed up, Dad took the car keys. "You're grounded for two weeks."

"I'm an adult. You can't ground me."

"We can and we are. If you don't like it, feel free to find another place to live... What you did is so shitty that I have trouble believing any daughter of mine would ever do it. You couldn't find a single minute to wish your twin brother well?"

Mom piled on, "Please go to your room. We're not interested in seeing your face for the rest of the day."

Connie did as she was told. This was the 60s, so family still meant something.

Of course, this was all relayed to me later.

As soon as I got to basic, I sent Mom and Dad the address of my basic company. I got two letters at the end of the week. One from Mom and Dad, the other from Connie. She wrote "Jim, I'm so ashamed of myself for treating your last morning home as if it offended me. Please forgive me. I do love you and will miss you. If you can forgive me, please write. I promise to write back... Love, Connie"

Of course, I forgave her. She was my sister, and I did love her, too. We kept up the correspondence all summer, with her writing to me at least once a week. She was going to attend the University of Washington, so once classes started that fall, her letters became fewer. I could understand that, as she was busy with classes. I was also more engaged with the army: Completed basic and Advanced Individual Training (AIT) in infantry. Then shipped to Ft. Benning for parachute training (jump school).

I think it was a given that the next stop would be Vietnam. She seemed to understand that, as well. Her letters changed in kind of a funny way. On one hand she was worried about me being in a war, and on the other seemed to be angry at the war as if I were to be blamed for it. Of course, I could understand. She was at a college that had strong anti-war components. Enough so, that they blew up and burned ROTC buildings. Pretty sure she wasn't involved in that. I would have been surprised if she didn't get caught up in it the "movement". She was, after all, a follower. Think she tried to keep her feeling out of the letters, but didn't really succeed. She kind of solved the problem by writing fewer letters.

I got my orders for Vietnam. Didn't have time to go home on leave before shipping out. Only managed to find a phone and spent an hour talking with the folks. Connie wasn't there, of course. I tried to reach her at the UW but wasn't successful.

The problem with her sending me fewer letters was that what I wanted was more letters, not fewer. The spacing between letters only increased as my tour continued. She had great difficulty keeping her opinions on the war from intruding. It finally got so difficult reading them that by six months in-country, I cut back on the few replies I made to her.

So, here we are, back where I started. We were in open rice paddy country. Our platoon emerged from a wooded island into a set of paddies, maybe 200 meters across to the next island. The island presented a linear wood line, about 100 meters in width, just in from the paddy. We came out and aligned in a staggard line across, covering the full width of the opposing island. Wood lines are scary things when you're in the open and advancing towards them.

I walked the paddy dike, focused entirely on the tree line ahead of us... Suddenly, the trees erupted in a line of muzzle flashes and tracers. I saw a flash of light immediately in front of me and I was knocked over onto my back on the dike. I didn't hear anything but immediately felt pain in my left arm. When I tried to roll off the dike, I couldn't. Then suddenly, my hearing returned. I heard shouting and firing around me. One cry was "Medic!"

I looked at my arm and saw blood flowing from it, so I figured that maybe they were calling a medic for me. The platoon medic came sliding in next to me in splash of paddy water. "Hold tight, Jim. Don't move."

Managed to get off the dike as tracers were just over my head and I knew I'd be dead if I didn't get down.

Then, as if a curtain had been lifted, I felt great pain in my legs. I sat up onto my backpack. I almost threw up when I looked at my legs. Below the knees was a mass of blood and torn clothes and flesh. My feet, what remained of them, were pointed in directions they weren't meant to go. The medic immediately applied tourniquets to both legs and stuck a morphine syrette into me.

I looked around. There was an incredible amount of fire coming from the wood line and we were returning it. I saw two guys had also been hit. Then artillery started impacting on the wood line and it was quickly over. The rest of the platoon surged through the wood line, but the North Vietnamese were gone. They left behind three bodies. Remembered bits and pieces. Concerned looks on the platoon leader's face. Leeches crawling on my hand. Blood trickling down my face from a cut on my forehead. My rifle forestock shattered.

Meanwhile, the landing zone was secured and medivac called in. There were three of us wounded (WIA). Me from the mine and the other two from gunshots. There were also nine killed in action (KIA). The inverted WIA to KIA ratio was testimony of how exposed we were and how well the NVA unit exercised fire discipline.

I barely remember being loaded into the Huey, being on a morphine cloud. Don't remember much about the evacuation hospital as every time I made a sound they hit me with more morphine. Don't remember at all being put on a plane to Japan. The next thing I really remember was waking up in Japan in a hospital ward. My left arm was in a cast and hanging up from some sort of contraption. A couple of bags of fluid were dripping into a vein in my right arm. I looked down... My legs were gone from the knees down.

I looked wildly around. Am I dreaming? Oh, God, I hope so! Let it not be real! I slowly caught my breath, controlling my panic. Somewhere a monitor alarm was sounding. Almost instantly, a nurse was by my side. "Are you in pain?"

I shook my head no, "Where are my legs?"

"Let me get the doctor."

She turned around to find a doctor.

An unbearable time elapsed before she returned with a major wearing a stethoscope. "Sergeant Henderson, I'm Doctor Rawlins. You were brought in from Vietnam two day ago.

You may not remember much, but the casualty report says you were wounded after you stepped on a mine... Unfortunately, I need to give you the full story. It's not my way to sugar coat things."

"Sir, please give me a minute to catch my breath." I looked at him and slowed my breathing and regained some semblance of control, "Please go on, sir."

"The explosion shattered your lower legs. The damage was too extensive, the tissues and bone fragmented, and we weren't able to salvage much below your knees. The good news is that we saved your knees and a little below them. This will be of immense help with your prosthetics.

I'm very sorry. We tried everything we could, but it wasn't enough to save your legs. Luckily, your manhood was spared.

He stopped for a moment to hold my undamaged shoulder. I could feel the compassion, "You'll be fitted with prosthetics as soon as you're healed. Your left arm was broken by the shrapnel. Additionally, you've got several pieces of metal in you that we will eventually need to remove... Would you like to talk to a chaplain? It may help you come to terms with your injuries."

"Thanks, sir. I appreciate you telling me straight. Don't think I need a chaplain... I would like to contact my parents, though. Is that possible?"

"They would have received a notice that you were seriously injured. Let me see what I can do about getting you a phone."

"Thanks so much, sir. I'm sure they're pretty worried. My dad was wounded on Iwo Jima and in Korea, so he may get some wild ideas about "seriously wounded". I'd very much be in your debt, sir."

Sure enough, an hour later a nurse showed up with a phone on a long extension cord. I gave her the home number and she dialed it for me through the operator. It was the middle of the night for them.

It rang and Dad picked it up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Dad? It me, Jim."

"Jim! Where are you? How bad are you injured? The message was seriously injured. What does that mean?"

"Look, Dad, I'm in a hospital in Japan. Don't know where, as I just woke up a few hours ago. Still a little groggy from the meds. They told me I stepped on a mine, but it's hazy. I don't remember a lot about things till I woke up in this hospital. Just fragmented images."

"How bad are you hurt?"

I paused. How much should I tell them? Had to be honest. "The mine broke both of my legs and one arm. The legs were too badly damaged, so they had to amputate just below the knees. Arm will get better. A bunch of metal in me that'll need to get removed."

There was silence. "I don't know what to say... Are you in pain?"

"No pain. They keep me doped... At least I'm alive. A bunch of others in the platoon weren't so lucky."

"Your legs..."

"It was the chance I took when I joined. Just as you took your chances in the marines."

"You don't seem too depressed, though."

"I've skipped the stages of disbelief and anger. I accept the fact that I won't be running any bases in the near future... Maybe later when I've had time to think, it'll hit me, but now I just have to keep on living... I don't know how long I'll be here before getting shipped stateside to another hospital. I'll ask for one near you."

"OK."

"Will you contact Connie? Try to take it easy on her? I don't have a way to contact her. See if there's a way for me to call her."

"Certainly. Can you call again?"

"Probably. Not sure when, so I'll likely disturb you in the middle of the night."

"No problem... Can we come there?"

"Please wait till I get back in the states. I'm kind of a mess and will need further surgeries."

I did manage to call at least once a week. Never got to talk to Connie. She sent me a couple of letters. She said how sorry she was for me and hoped I would recover as quickly as possible. She'll come to see me when I get back. I need to admit to a major disappointment. Her letters were like addressing a friend, not a brother. There wasn't any warmth in the letters. Her concern seemed pro forma.

I asked Dad about it. He said she was heavily involved in campus activities, meaning anti-war stuff. It was affecting her schoolwork, as well. Reading between the lines: He wasn't happy with her either.

Altogether, I spent three months in Japan. Had six more surgeries. Got dewormed, as well. Fortunately, my stumps were healing well, with no sign of infection. Kind of a miracle considering I was wounded in a rice paddy where they used shit for fertilizer. More issues with my arm, as they had to go back in to reset because it didn't heal properly. My stumps didn't need further debridement, so I was judged ready to go to. I asked to go to McChord.

Mom and Dad were waiting for me when our flight arrived. I was in good enough shape to be in a wheelchair, although the lack of strength in my broken left arm made it difficult to get around. It was a pretty tearful reunion for everyone. I noticed that Connie wasn't here. Dad said, "Connie's out of town. In Washington, DC, I think. She said she'll catch up with you later."

I think we were all deeply disappointed by her absence, and Dad was a lot more pissed off at her than he showed.

They processed me in, and I soon had a bed in a two-person ward. We talked until they kicked them out. Mom said "You look good. You've regained some of the weight you lost. You're so much better than the pictures you sent just after you got to Japan."

"When they start letting me come home, I expect to add more weight." Patting my stomach.

Since Dad had to work, he usually only showed up on the weekends. Mom would have been there every day, but I made her ration the time. I had to endure physical therapy, mainly for my arm as I didn't have my new legs yet. They told me when I arrived that I'd need to wait another two months before getting my new legs. They started to test fit them and to prepare the stumps. I was told that it was an iterative process, and it might take several tries to make them comfortable.

I was allowed out. Given weekend passes to go home.

I finally got in touch with Connie. She didn't want to come to the hospital or meet me at home. Thought that was more than a little strange. We arranged to meet at a little café outside the hospital. They had a back part we could use that usually wasn't busy.

I arrived before her and was awaiting her. Know my face lit up when I saw her. It had been more than two years. We were both shocked by each other's appearance. Her, obviously, at my body in a wheelchair, minus legs. She was in old clothes. She looked like a hippie, complete with a full bead factory, and very thin. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, but it wasn't with a lot of enthusiasm.

"How are you, Connie? You look like you lost some weight."

"So?"

"Just an observation. Not a criticism."

She looked pointedly at my legs and said, "You've lost some weight, too." No smile. Nothing to indicate it was a joke.

I chose to take it as a joke. "Not a recommended weight loss process."

"Are you OK? I mean other than the obvious?"

"Yes. It could have been a lot worse. A lot of other guys didn't make it out of that rice paddy."

"No big loss. Suckers and deluded. Dying for some rich old man and his corporation."

I stopped breathing for a second. What had she just said? "What did you just say? They were deluded and it wasn't a loss?"

"Yeah, sacrificed on the altar of multinational corporations profiting from the war."

It was fortunate that I didn't have my legs yet or something bad would have happened. "YOU WILL NOT MOCK THEM OR THEIR SACRIFICE!!!. NOT NOW, NOT EVER! If you had a modicum of human decency you would immediately apologize to them and never say anything like that again!"

"Ha! If I don't?"

"Then you show you're a despicable excuse for a human being. They sacrificed their lives for our country. They did nothing to have your distain. Don't you have any compassion? No sister of mine would ever say such a thing."

"What are you going to do? Have a sister exorcism?"

"Not another word. Stop now."

"If I don't?"

"I will never speak to you again as long as I live."

"I'm worried."

I simply turned away and wheeled out the door ending our three-minute reunion. The hospital had driven me there and the driver was waiting. We drove off.

I spent the rest of the weekend fuming. Turned it down when Mom and Dad visited, although they did detect that something was bothering me. I declined to talk about it.

I got my legs the next week. Then it was a few weeks of pain, and hope. Learning to walk again. I was discharged from the army and awarded a 100% disability rating by the VA. That was almost enough to live on if I were frugal and a closet mouse. I applied for admittance and was accepted at Gonzaga University, even though I wasn't a catholic, nor even much of a believer. It was much smaller that UW and Washington State University, and, likely, less political. I decided to major in civil engineering.

I was living at home till classes started. Connie had little interaction with the parents. Dad distinctly disapproved of her politics and let her know. They were decidedly cool towards her, although they still considered her their daughter and weren't ready to throw in the towel. Needless to say, I never asked about her nor commented on anything they told me about her.

One Friday evening Dad asked me, "Did you and Connie have a fight? There's a distinct coldness towards her coming from you."

"She's not my sister."

"What? I watched the two of you being born."

"We may have been born to you and Mom, but that piece of shit is not my sister. I don't know where my sister went, but THAT is not my sister."

"What happened to you two? When you were in junior high school you were very close. I know that when you went into the army, a gulf opened up between you. But something must have happened later... What?"

Reluctantly, I complied, telling him, "We met the weekend before I got my legs. She said that all the guys killed over in Vietnam were no loss for having died for corporations... She was welcome to rag on me all she wanted, but she was not going to mock my friends who were KIA. I told her I would never speak to her again."

Mom and Dad sat quietly, digesting what I'd revealed. "That's pretty disgusting on her part. We knew she was heavily involved in the anti-war movement, but never thought she would make it so personal... She's still our daughter, so we're not giving up on her. We'll respect your position and try to avoid putting the two of you together."

"It's not a problem. I'll simply ignore her. Of course, I have no interest whatsoever in any news about her."

We left it there.

I soon moved to Spokane. Didn't think I wanted to live in a dorm, so got a small apartment, wheelchair accessible, although I seldom used one. Had enough money saved up to pay tuition and books and there was the GI Bill. I was going to major in civil engineering. I assumed that a civil engineer would have a good mix of office and field so that I'd be out in the open for part of the time. I enjoyed building things, anyway.

School was going well when the first trial appeared. Connie and I were invited to come home for Thanksgiving. I was happy to accept, Connie less so. When Mom told me that Connie was coming, too, I just said "OK."

It turned out to be a false alarm. Connie cancelled at the last moment.

I got a part time job as a library assistant. Didn't really need what little money it paid, but it was an excuse to get out of my small apartment and allowed me access to reading material. I didn't need to be standing for my shift - mostly sitting. Legs work OK and only had one more refit to make them more comfortable. The VA doctor said they were doing a lot of development and that in a few years, the legs would be much, much better.

This had a minor impact on visiting the parents for Christmas. I had to delay going there for a couple of extra days until finals were over, and the library was unnecessary. Connie told them she would come home for Christmas. I didn't hold my breath.

She actually showed up. She had asked if her boyfriend could come with her. Dad told her no. This was family. That probably didn't help her attitude.

I got home first, even with the delay. Connie was only staying for Christmas Eve, Christmas and Boxing Day. When she walked in the door, Mom and Dad hugged her. I simply turned my back and returned to my chair. That didn't appear to bother her as she ignored me, as well.

I won't say that Christmas was a lot of fun. Even ignoring Connie's and my non-interaction, she was more than a little sullen with the parents. I made it a point to be absent from the room when they talked with Connie about school and her life. Of course, her life was the anti-war movement. School was secondary. Mom and Dad weren't at all happy about her priorities. The whole house warmed up when she left.

I finished my first year. Grades OK. Just missed the Dean's list because the English professor was very outspoken anti-war, and I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Should have gotten an A, but the jerk gave me a C.

Meanwhile, although I didn't ask, Mom told me that Connie had dropped out of school and was working at a head shop. Mom added, "Whatever that is."

I worked that summer in the Spokane civil engineering department. It was mainly make-work and low-level shit, but I enjoyed it. They were happy to have me.

At the end of summer, Mom told me that Connie was pregnant. Not married, of course. I told Mom, "As if I give a shit."

School continued. I enjoyed the engineering and math classes. Not so much the distribution classes, as they tended to be political. I went home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Connie was mercifully absent, although I could see they missed her. As far as I could see that was just one more indication of what a repulsive person she was.

Partway into the spring term, Connie gave birth to a healthy little girl. Named her Karen. Although I had zero interest in what Connie was doing, Karen was my niece. She's not guilty of her mother's failings, so I took an interest in her. Unfortunately, that required me to find out more about Connie than I wanted. Karen's father - assuming that Connie even knew who he was - showed no interest in Karen.

Connie was on welfare and used the county system for assistance. We, the rest of the family, didn't volunteer to help. Connie made her choices and now needed to live with them.

She did begin to communicate more with our parents. Mom said it was obvious she was lonely. Apparently, most of her "movement" friends evaporated once she was too busy being a single parent to contribute to the movement. Additionally, the war was ramping down and the anti-war movement became less relevant. I pretty much ignored her problems. Did give her credit for raising her daughter instead of giving her up for adoption.

Sometime in my junior year she moved in with a guy. Our parents didn't know if this was Karen's father, or just some other hookup. Anyway, he took care of both for a while.

Christmas of my senior year came around. I was, as usual, going home. A big surprise. Connie and Karen were also coming. I had successfully avoided Connie since that disastrous Christmas three years ago. Now, I guess I get to meet Karen. Connie didn't ask if her boyfriend could come.

This was a dilemma. I still had no interest in Connie, but did want to get to know Karen.

When they arrived, this shy not-yet 3-year-old girl hid behind her mother. Connie's welcome hug to our parents was much less formal that last time. It looked like she actually meant it. I ignore Connie. Connie pulled a wide-eyed Karen out from behind her and told her, "Karen, this is your grandmother and grandfather."

Both Mom and Dad got down on the knees to greet Karen. Connie had to give her a little push to go to them. There the standard mutterings between grandparents and young grandchild took place.

I watched them with Karen. Mom turned Karen in my direction, "Karen, this is your uncle James." Since kneeling down was difficult, I was sitting in a chair.

I guess since she had gone to grandpa and grandma, it wasn't more effort to come to me. "I'm happy to meet you, Karen."

That seemed to be limit of her bravery and she returned to Connie's side. I followed her with my eyes. Then up into Connie's face. I didn't know what I saw there: pain, loss, uncertainty... I have no doubt that what she saw on my face was contempt.

This Christmas was very much more awkward that the last. Karen was a collection point for all of us. I couldn't avoid Connie. Karen would bounce between Connie and the parents and between Connie and me. I tried to avoid Connie as much as I could and when we were forced to be in close proximity, I refused to speak to her. Fortunately, Karen was too young to catch on.

Karen made out like a bandit for presents. Everyone had multiple presents for her. Our parents tried to help Connie by giving her money in her cards. Neither Connie nor I exchanged presents.

This more-or-less set the pattern for future Christmases.

I completed my degree and transitioned into the Spokane civil engineering department. Now with a degree, I was handed more responsibility. I enjoyed it. That's pretty much how it went for the next seven years.

Meanwhile, I was kept updated on Connie and Karen. I obviously didn't give a shit about Connie but kept my interest and some involvement in Karen. By involvement, I wrote to her, and we'd see each other at Christmas. I always sent birthday presents.

Connie had moved out of her boyfriend's apartment shortly after that first Christmas when Karen was introduced to us. She got a job at an insurance agency and managed to be a single parent in a small apartment. I suspect our parents were helping out, but I never dug into it.

The only time I saw Connie and Karen was at Thanksgiving and Christmas. As Karen got older, it became more difficult to hide Connie's and my non-interaction. When Karen was six, she asked me why I never talked to her mother. I told her that we didn't like each other and that we got along best if we didn't speak to each other. She answered, "But she talks to you. I've seen her. You don't talk to her. Why?"

"You'll have to ask your mother. It's too complicated. When you get older I'll try to explain."

I did notice some changes in Connie. She expressed regret for some of her actions. For dropping out of college. For abandoning the family. She had a different look on her face when I saw her at Christmas. She and our parents would talk in the living room. I would frequently be there, but made it point not to get involved. The look on Connie's face was often sorrowful and hurt. Mom and Dad told me that she missed all of us - including me. I still saw no reason to change my opinion of her.

This was the usual Christmas discussion. The Christmas near when Karen turned 10, she asked me again. I didn't feel right telling her that her mother was a despicable human being. "We had a big disagreement before you were born. An impossible-to-reverse disagreement."

"Did it have anything to do with you losing your legs?"

"Indirectly."

"How did you lose them? Mom never told me. Neither have Grandma or Grandpa."

"Well, honey, I was in the army and serving in Vietnam. I got wounded in both legs too badly to allow them to save them."

"How come nobody ever told me?"

"Your mother doesn't care. Your grandfather was wounded in World War 2 and in the Korean War, so he doesn't like to talk about such things."

"Why doesn't my mother care? You're her brother."

"I can't answer that. Or I won't answer that... You'll have to ask her."

I don't know if she ever asked Connie or if Connie told her anything.

Several times Dad told me that Connie told him she was so sorry for what she said to me, that she wished she could take it back. I wasn't impressed.

Then on May 18th, a teen driver, concentrating on his upcoming date, blew through a red light. Karen was riding her bike through the intersection. She was knocked over, flying 50 feet through the air. She has a visibly broken leg and arm, and she was unconscious.

I think the family world collapsed at that instant. I got a desperate phone call from Dad. He told me what happened. I took emergency leave and headed to the hospital (Connie lived in the same town as Mom and Dad.)

Hours later when I walked through the front door of the emergency room. Mom, Dad and Connie were in a waiting room. Karen was in surgery. Having been in combat, I saw a lot of guys scared, terrified, but I had never seen such terror on a face as I did on Connie's as she looked towards the operating room door where they took Karen. With no thought, I grabbed Connie and hugged her as hard as I could without hurting her. Not sure if she would have noticed, in any event. She had no objection. She put her head on my shoulder. I could feel the tears on my neck. Spoke to her for the first time in over 10 years, "Connie, I can't think of anything to say that would help you. If I could, then accept that I feel terrible..."

She didn't say anything. She just hugged me tighter.

Whatever hatred I felt for her was instantly gone. Now, I still felt like she was despicable, but I'd have to be a monster myself if I couldn't sympathize with her over her child, my niece. I could, however, no longer hate her though I still didn't like her. She was suffering like I had been those years ago.

The four of us joined in a circle, with the parents in chairs and us hugging them. Not sure how we survived the night. I think Mom slept some from exhaustion. None of the rest did.

About 6 AM, the surgeon came looking for us. He told us that she had a broken right leg, a broken right arm below the elbow, a couple of broken ribs and some internal and external lacerations. He had stopped all the internal bleeding and set the broken limbs. Unfortunately, she was in a coma, and they weren't certain when or if she would come out of it. They did an MRI that didn't show any bleeding in the brain, but she certainly had suffered a concussion. She'd be taken to a room in the pediatric intensive care unit when she left the recovery room.

We sat there, all lost in their own minds, until they came and got us. The nurse said only two at time will be allowed in the room. Dad said, "Bullshit." We all went in.

We gathered around her frail body. She looked so small in the big bed with tubes running into her. Her arm and leg were attached to frames above her. She had a few cuts on her face that had been stitched up and gauze where she got pavement burned even though she had landed in the grass. Fortunately, she had been wearing a helmet, or she would have been downstairs in the morgue. Both of her eyes looked like she'd be having big shiners when the swelling went down.

I grabbed another couple of chairs, and we set in. We took turns holding her one good hand.

We also took turns going to the toilet and to the cafeteria for coffee and donuts. Little talking in our vigil. Nurses and doctors came and went, doing whatever doctors and nurses do.

About 18 hours after she came out of surgery, her eyelids started to flutter, and she moved her head a little. Her pulse rate increased, setting off the monitor in the nurses' station. A nurse came in and looked at her. She said the eyelid movement was a good sign. A doctor followed shortly. He looked into her eyes. "Her pupils are equal and reactive. That's a very good sign. We just need to wait... I suggest that you try to stimulate her by talking to her and gently rubbing her hand and arm... Let me know if she appears to be in pain."

Karen started to move a little more with each hour. At about 24 hours after surgery, she opened her eyes. Since she had a tube down her throat, she couldn't talk. It was obvious that she recognized us. She reached out to Connie.

Pretty sure we all had tears in our eyes. Again, the alarm went off and a nurse quickly appeared. A quick smile also appeared on the nurse's face. She went off to find the doctor.

The doctor looked at her vitals. "Her vitals look OK, so I think we can remove the breathing tube."

They removed the tube and replaced it with a nasal cannula. The doctor asked if she was in pain. She said her arm and her head hurt, so they gave her a little more pain medicine. Kept the dose low enough that she didn't go back to sleep. They wanted her awake.

Now she could talk. Of course, we all tried to talk at once. Connie asked her if she remembered what happened. "The last thing I remember is getting on my bike to come home from school. What happened, Mom?"

"You got hit by a car when you crossed 3rd Avenue."

"My bike?"

"We'll get you a new one as soon as you able to ride again."

We couldn't believe how fortunate she was. Other than the broken bones, she was fine. Well, as fine as one could be after being hit by a car. There didn't appear to be any brain injury, other than she had a bad headache.

She looked at the leg hanging above her and asked me, "Will I need a leg like yours?"

I laughed, "No, you won't need a metal leg. Yours will work just fine in a few weeks."

They kept her in PICU overnight and moved her to a room the next day. We started rotating so somebody was there all the time. They fixed up a sleeping chair for us to use overnight.

She was simply amazing. Despite her injuries, some of which must have been uncomfortable, she was always happy and smiling. Pretty sure she enjoyed the undivided attention of having her mother, Grandpa, Grandma, and Uncle Jim there.

I took two weeks off, so was able to be there full time for a while. Then I had to go back to work. It was a couple-hour drive, so I could come every weekend.

Karen was a skinny little thing. Blonde hair turning light brown. Freckles scattered across her little nose and cheeks. She was definitely cute, and I could see she would be a boy-killer when she got older.

I was sitting with Karen one evening when she started asking me questions. "Are you still mad at Mom? You talk with her now, but you never hug or kiss her like you do with me, or Grandpa or Grandma."

"We still haven't worked out our differences."

"I asked Mom why you didn't like each other. She said she'd explain when I got older, but that she did something to you that was unforgivable. Is that true? How come you can't forgive her?"

"Well, like she said, it's complicated. Also, she's never asked me to forgive her."

"Would you if she asked you?"

"I don't know."

A few days later, Mom and Dad were at the hospital, and I was at their home. I took a shower and got dressed. Connie came over to pick up a book for Mom. I was in the living room and heard her go to the library to get the book. She saw me and came into the living room. "James, you've been there for Karen, for me. I'm not sure I deserved your support... We still aren't friends, are we?"

"No, I don't think we are."

She got a determined look on her face, "I want to apologize for the truly awful things I said to you. I'd give my right arm to do it over again and not acted so reprehensible. I'm so sorry. I won't make any excuses for my words. Just wish with my whole heart that I had never said them. I can't ask for your forgiveness. I haven't earned that right. Please understand that I hurt every day for what I did... I want my brother back."

I can't say her tears left me unaffected or that I didn't appreciate her apology. I just wasn't sure I could get over the pain and disappointment. When she looked up at me, I could see her soul in her eyes, no deception only a deep, deep well of pain and sorrow under the layer of tears. I stood up and put my arms around her. Not sure who was more shocked, her or me. Her hair, smelling of rosewood shampoo, was in my face. That set something off in me. A blurry memory of rosewood in her hair, us on a sofa, maybe 14 years old.

Rosewood again. Her face in my neck. She started to sniffle, then it turned into a full-out river.

I told her, "Don't know if I'm ready to forget, but I'll try to be friends... Or at least not enemies."

She pulled back, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"You still use the same rosewood shampoo."

"You remember?"

"I'll never forget. Haven't smell it on you since we were 14."

Tears returned to her eyes. "How could we have missed 15 years since we were close enough for you to smell it?... I guess that's my fault. I'm sorry. How could I have been so stupid?... Can we start again?"

"Well, I don't think I want to be 14 again..."

"I wish we were. Then maybe I wouldn't have fucked things up so badly."

I just hugged her close. I was willing to accept a new beginning.

We did start talking again and visiting the hospital together. Karen noticed that we actually spoke with each other, not just spoke at each other. She looked at us and smiled.

Connie had taken so much time off to care for Karen that she lost her job. When she told me, I said that's a pretty shitty thing to do. "It was a shit job anyway. I'll find another."

The year was 1982. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, aka The Wall, had been completed in November. At Christmas, Dad and Mom said they wanted to see it. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that, Dad. A few of my friends have been there and they say it very painful."

We didn't pursue it. Christmas was much nicer now that Connie and I had reconciled. Karen was in seventh heaven with all the presents. Mom and Dad had bought Karen a new bike for going to school. It was just a one-speed standard girl's bike. I surprised her with a new 10-speed. She wanted to try it out immediately, but the fresh snow was a major obstacle. I promised to return when it was warmer so she could show me how she rode her bike.

Connie still hadn't gotten a real job. She was part-time at a real estate office. Mom and Dad (and me discretely) were helping out.

When I came back in March to see Karen on her bike, Dad hit me again with visiting the Wall. "Jim, I hear visiting the Wall is an experience every Vietnam vet should have."

"Maybe."

"Can you go this spring break?"

"I'm still not sure about it."

Connie had just walked back into the room when she dropped a bombshell. "If you go, then I'll go with you."

Had my anti-war sister really said that? "What? Why would you be interested it that?" I kept my first response to myself, which was to ask if she just wanted to see a whole bunch of losers.

She looked down. "Maybe I just want to see what's important to you..."

I was stunned. There wasn't any way I could decline. Dad took on the job of getting us plane tickets and hotel reservations.

Connie took Karen out of school one day before the school break. I freely admit that I was nervous starting from the time we got to the Spokane airport. Karen kept my mind off things by bouncing around like a bee visiting flowers. This was the first time she'd ever flown, so she had a million questions. The plane wasn't too crowded, so the five of us occupied our own little section. The plane made one stop in Minneapolis. The next leg was a little more crowded, but we still managed to get Karen and Mom window seats. They got good views coming into Washington National. A short taxi ride and we were at home in the hotel. The next day was the Wall.

Not sure if I slept much that night. It almost felt like I had the night before we began an operation in Indian country.

Breakfast was much quieter than normal. Only Karen was displaying high spirits. Mom, Dad, and Connie kept looking at me. Unasked question: Was I OK?

It was kind of funny that up until this day, I had only displayed small symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or as they were now calling it, PTSD - disorder, not syndrome. Startle reflex, not liking crowds, little things like that. Today, I was all nerves. Why? Guess the thought of seeing my friends' names in that black granite brought up too many memories.

The taxis dropped us off a short distance from the Wall. Not really short, though. It felt like I was walking in knee-deep mud. Every step required concentration and effort. When I actually caught sight of it, I froze. They were trying to get me to move to it, but I couldn't take a single step. Karen had been skipping on ahead, till she turned around and saw them urging me forward. This skinny little girl with a load of freckles walked back and took my hand in her little hand, "Come with me, Uncle Jim."

I allowed her to pull me down to the apex. There was a volunteer there with a book of names. He asked me, "Who are you looking for?"

I gave him the name of my foxhole buddy that was KIA the same time I lost my legs. He looked it up and took me to the panel. He pointed out the name. Through my tears, I picked out the names of all my friends. By this time, the rest of them had surrounded me, hugging me. I touched each name... Connie burst into uncontrollable tears, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me."

Maybe Karen didn't understand, but the rest of us did. I completely absolved her. Now, I really could love her like the twin sister she was. I lifted her up, "I think they understand."

We spent almost an hour there. Several other guys that obviously served wandered around. When I could, we hugged each other. Didn't need to say anything.

It was some kind of catharsis. I certainly felt better when we walked over to the Lincoln Memorial. A couple of guys told me to come back in the middle of the night. Would be only vets then.

We dragged Dad to the Iwo Jima Memorial. It was his turn to cry. He knew one of the guys in the statue. He had been in boot camp with him.

I told everyone that I was going back to the Wall very late. Connie insisted that she was coming with me. I told her no, but she said she'd take a taxi and go on her own. I relented. Karen would stay in Mom and Dad's room.

We went out about 2 am. It was eerie. Maybe a dozen guys. Some with family, some so alone you could feel it radiating from them. I stood at my guys' panel. Touched briefly their names. Touched briefly within. I probably would have stayed leaning into the Wall forever if Connie hadn't put her arm around my shoulder. Tears were running down her face. For the first time in a very long time, I saw how beautiful she was. Even with red and puffed eyes, her face held me. High cheeks. No acne or other scars marred her face. We were 32, but she could have passed for early twenties. There was strength in her. I knew that she had kept it together when Karen got hurt, but now she was keeping me together. I think we bonded as twins should, erasing many years of separation.

That marked a change in our relationship. I started to come home to see her, as much as the folks. Since she wasn't having much luck in finding a good job, I suggested that she move to Spokane. Much more opportunities there. She agreed to look into it. Told her she and Karen could stay with me.

Since Karen was in school, she stayed with Mom and Dad while Connie came to Spokane. I took a couple of days off to help her look for a job. She got a couple of interviews and one second interview. She was interested in becoming a real estate agent. She was offered a job with a real estate company, and they were willing to train her so she could get her license.

Now for a place to live. I lived in a small three-bedroom house. I told her that she and Karen were welcome to live with me till she found something different or as long as she wanted. My house was in a good school district, so Connie was happy to stay there. I, of course, was happy to have them there. Mom and Dad understood and fully supported the idea.

It was easier with them there. Simple things like mowing the lawn were a chore for my artificial legs. Even though it was powered, the mower still needed pushing. Karen was big enough and she welcomed the chance to help out.

The parents would drive to see us rather than for me to drive there. My legs worked well, but long drives weren't comfortable. The VA provided adaptations, so that normal, everyday short trips were easy. I took the longer drive mainly to see Connie (being honest).

In June, an 11-year-old Karen finished for the year. Moving was easy as they didn't have a lot of stuff. Well, maybe Karen did... The house had two and a half bathrooms as well as three bedrooms. Karen was excited to have her own small bathroom. She was kind of messy and now Connie wouldn't have to keep on her to pick up things in the bathroom. Connie still inspected, so Karen couldn't go completely wild.

I would also have to retrain myself. After living alone for a decade, I had to remember to get dressed to wander around the house. Karen was at a transitional age: from little girl to teenager. Know I was in for a shock.

I enjoyed the shit out of them being there. One thing continued to change, though. I became more attached to Connie. Attached meaning I wanted to spend time with her. I wanted to be friends, like we used to be, where we could tell each other things that we'd never tell anyone else. Actually, it became more. I enjoyed touching her. Friendly pats on the shoulder, cheek kisses, hugs - that kind of thing. By the end of summer, I took every opportunity to be with her. She didn't object and, likewise, took opportunities to be with me.

I'm not sure when I transitioned from looking at her like she was my twin to something a lot more. There wasn't a big epiphany where one moment she was just my sister to the next when she meant something very different to me. I had to be honest with myself: I was falling deeply in love with my twin sister. I belatedly recalled my feelings towards her in high school. With my new internal honesty, I recognized that even back then I had much more than brotherly feelings towards her.

This conclusion presented me with a lot of difficulties. First, she was my sister, and I had to take whatever steps were needed to protect her. Second, she was a follower. I was sure that I could take actions that made her seem like she was also in love with me. I couldn't do that (see first part). There wasn't any guarantee that her following would last for as long as I wanted - forever. A very distant third was that brothers and sister weren't supposed to love each other that way.

It boiled down to I had to be careful and let her pull the trigger on any change in status. I adopted the role of never pushing, only allowing the possibility of her pushing, i. e., giving her opportunities. Like, when we sat on the sofa, she could sit as close to me as she wanted. I never tried to just sit down next to her unless she explicitly indicated that's where I was wanted. Of course, that was just a crude example since I was quickly informed that my place was always next to her. Karen added a little twist. Sometimes she wanted to sit next to Mom and other times next to Uncle Jim, but never between us.

We crossed the Rubican one fall evening. Karen had gone to bed and Connie was sitting on the sofa. I walked over with a couple of glasses of wine. She took one and then pulled me down beside her. She put her glass down, and mine, and then kissed me. It wasn't sisterly nor a peck on the cheek. It was a full kiss that lasted 10 microseconds. Well, that was only in the relativity world where good things pass much, much faster than everything else. I don't know how long it lasted in this frame of reference, but it wasn't long enough.

"Wow! Oh wow!"

"I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done for Karen and me and to show you how much I enjoy your company."

"I'll start trying to do more if I get that kind of reward."

"I'm already way over in debt to you. Mom and Dad were very helpful, but they weren't you... My guilt was eating me alive."

I paused before replying, "That's all in the past."

"I can't put it away that easy. I'm surprised that you can. I hurt you so badly. First, not seeing you off and then for telling you those horrible things."

"Don't dwell on it. We live from where we are today."

"Now I have to tell you something. This is the last thing I've hidden from you. Haven't told Mom or Dad. About three months after Karen's birth. I got pregnant again. It was an ectopic pregnancy. An extremely rare case where both ovaries released eggs, and both eggs got fertilized in the Fallopian tubes but never migrated to the uterus as they were supposed to. I should have had twins. You know what happens during an ectopic pregnancy?"

I shook my head, "No."

"The fetus starts growing in the Fallopian tubes, kind of like a tumor. They had to do surgery to remove the fetuses... and they had to remove the fallopian tubes themselves. Now with medical advances, they could probably have saved one or both, but then it was the tubes or my life. I can't ever have more children... You can see how Karen getting hurt was such a huge event. Like I told you, she was my life."

Holding her wasn't enough. Didn't know what would be enough, but I'd give my life for her.

Surprisingly, she wasn't crying. "I'm all cried out for that. If Karen had died..."

"I'll tell you again: We live from where we are today. Karen is just down the hallway. OK?"

She put her hand on my cheek, "Jim, now I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Connie, you're stronger than you think."

"Well, maybe I don't know what to do with you."

Although I wasn't sure exactly what she meant, my pulse rate climbed alarmingly. She leaned over and kissed me again. "I'm incredibly happy we aren't enemies now."

I totally agreed.

We sipped our wine and sat side by side. It was a great evening. She gave me another kiss before we went to bed. I had trouble sleeping.

How do you get more in love? I mean, if you're in love isn't that the end? I was wrong. I was more in love with Connie tonight than I was yesterday. Couldn't really analyze it, I just knew that she had a tighter hold on my heart. I was sure that if I did something to hurt her and drove her away, it would be a bigger loss than my legs had been. It would be difficult to not push the physical and make love to her. That couldn't work. Pretty sure that if you want it to last, you need to be in love before sex. Sex first, then love seemed an invitation to heartache later. Didn't seem to be anything to stop finding somebody else, having sex and discovering love. I knew that sex was the icing on the cake, not the cake itself. I knew I loved her, but she has to love me. Did she? Didn't make it easier to get to sleep.

We didn't sit like that every night. Enough so, it kind of became the norm. Karen seemed to recognize that Connie and I had changed our relationship. Connie continued to kiss me good night.

I kissed her one morning when she came down for breakfast. She had no objection, and it became a morning ritual. She seemed to become more relaxed in my presence. Her choice of clothes around the house became more casual. She never wore a bra at home.

Karen, too, developed. She started to grow breasts and experienced menarche. Connie had to become a little more careful because Karen was very sensitive to things like Connie's unfettered breasts. It made Karen feel insecure, although Connie assured her that hers would grow larger as she got older. Not sure Karen believed her. Karen was already taller than Connie, so it seemed like bullshit.

We started to become more discrete in any actions that might be considered sexual. That was a problem because we were becoming a lot more interested in things sexual. After Karen went to bed, we would make out like teenagers on the sofa. It was at first just kissing, then REAL kissing. I was still reluctant to push, so changes occurred gradually. Way slower than I wanted, but...

We had Christmas at my house. Mom and Dad drove over on Christmas Eve and returned home on the 27th. Karen went with them to spend New Years there.

There was some tension between Connie and I as we watched them drive off. Connie took my hand and pulled me to the sofa. She gave me the hottest kiss we'd ever exchanged. "Jim, there's something that I want, no, need to say." She initially kind of hung her head, then looked right into my eyes, into my soul, from her soul, "I'm in love with you. As a sister, as a twin, and as a woman. No doubt or hesitation... I hope I'm reading you right and that you love me the same."

I couldn't contain the joy from igniting my face, "Oh, yes. Oh, yes. I love you as no brother should ever love a sister. I've been in love with you for months. No, that's not right. For years. Maybe that why it hurt so much when we..."

"No, when I betrayed you."

"That's ancient history."

I felt like I was dancing on air, even with my artificial legs. We just sat there, silent, only our rapid heartbeats disturbing the air. I had my arm around her, my hand stroking her upper arm. She was leaning into me, her tit pressed against my chest. We enjoyed each other's company. There didn't seem to be a rush to do anything else. But I couldn't resist the attraction of her warmth and her smile. Nor the look in her eyes when I could focus on her face. "You know this changes our lives? How do we hide this from our parents and from Karen? Especially Karen. When she gets older we can explain, but it looks like we have a rough road ahead."

"Jim, I've thought about this, too. Yes, it'll be tough, especially not being able to sleep every night next to you."

I kissed her, "We'll do what we need to do."

She started to say something, but I covered her mouth with mine.

We sat there making out until Connie stood up, "Let's go to bed, my love."

"That's what you really want?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes... Do you?"

"More than I can say."

"Jim, the only virginity I can give you is my heart."

"That's the only one that matters."

We went into my bedroom. Connie was unbuttoning her shirt on the way. It dropped at the door, along with my shirt. I didn't turn on any lights. Left the door open so there was light from the hallway and through the curtains. She stopped when she got to the bed and turned around. Her beautiful tits! No sag, erect nipples. The brown areolae were a good two inches across and strongly crinkled. She started to undo her jeans, but I stopped her, "Let me."

She was so beautiful. I started to unbutton and unzip her jeans but had to pause to take her tits in my hands. I rubbed then for only a short while before taking a nipple into my mouth. She tasted of woman. I could also get a hint of her rosewood shampoo before starting to lick down to her naval. I pushed her onto the bed and pulled her jeans off. Had her move up so that I could get between her legs while mine stuck off the bed. Not having real lower limbs was a little awkward. Like, I couldn't have knelt on a hard floor against the bed to say prayers, although I didn't pray anyway. I dropped my clothes and my limbs by the bed.

I'm not sure why, but I can't seem to be able to have sex with my artificial limbs in place. I just can't perform. I've tried and ultimately always failed. Can't look into my psych to know why.

There was a thin line of stubble leading into her panties. Her panties were wet, a large spot from where I guessed her vulva started and then disappeared between her legs. No rosewood this time. Only woman. Addicting. Pushed my face into the damp to get a taste. Only her hands on my head stopped me from chewing through her panties. It wasn't easy to lift my upper body up to remove the panties. I just used one hand at a time to work them over her hips and down her legs. She was as impatient as I was, so she started pushing them lower.

It took all my willpower to wait until they were completely off before dropping me head onto her delta. She had light brown hair and skimpy eyebrows, so I wasn't surprised that her pubes were thin, soft and tidy. She didn't have a need to trim them. They just surrounded her vulva like the frame around the Mona Lisa. My tongue made a beeline to her slit, up near the top. I could feel the bump that was her clit on my upper lip. Nuzzled it firmly, then licked it. She gave a little shudder. I started licking again at the bottom, pushing my tongue into her as far as her labia minor. Ah, did she taste good! I knew that I could never get enough of her juice.

I slid two fingers into her vagina, seeking her g-spot. With my lips on her clit and two fingers pressing on her g-spot, she came. "Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck! Shit. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

Thought she was going to drown me from the flow and from her hands pressing my head into her.

Now, one of the problems without having a set of complete legs is that some sex positions are difficult. The most basic of these is the missionary position. Sure, I can do it, but it's not very satisfactory. Without lower legs you can't get any leverage to thrust hard without forcing too much weight on your partner or abusing your arms. Much better was doggie since my legs effectively ended with my knees, I was essentially standing at the right height. Cowgirl was also very good, but reverse cowgirl wasn't because some women get distracted by my stumps. Not sure if Connie would be, but I wasn't taking any chances.

I got her up on all fours for doggie. She didn't have any objections. I got behind her and rubbed the glans along her slit. She was plenty wet. "Slowly, Jim, I haven't had anything in my pussy since my ectopic surgery."

That was unexpected. Given the crowd she hung with (think free love) I expected her to have had more. She explained later that the guy she had moved in with was the father of the ectopic twins and that after she came home from the hospital, he lost all interest in sex with her.

She was tight, wet and fit like a heated silken glove. I enjoyed the journey to her cervix, as if I had been waiting for it all my life. As soon as I touched bottom, she started rocking, picking up the frequency and the stroke length quickly. Soon we were going from the glans being barely in her to it tapping her cervix. I lasted only a few minutes before filling her with a deluge of cum. Other than a short pause, I neither softened nor slowed. It was her turn to cum next. I was rubbing her clit when she screamed and came. Her ejaculate filled my hand. Wow was that sexy! I quickly drank what I caught from my cupped hand.

I leaned forward to take her big tits in my hands. Her nipples were diamond points, pressing into my palms. She also didn't slow down.

It seemed only moments when she climbed the mountain again, me not far behind her, and once more exploded. I joined her, flooding her cervix and spilling out. Her legs and arms lost their rigidity, and she fell onto her stomach with me on top. Had to use my arms to keep my weight off of her as I outweighed her by a good 50 pounds and my abbreviated legs didn't provide any support.

I rolled over, pulling her into the little spoon. My hand was on her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Her stomach started heaving as tears poured from her eyes. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you. Not sure I'll ever outlive it."

I kissed her neck. "It doesn't matter. We have each other now and you have a beautiful daughter... Besides, this is a good distraction."

We sat up on the edge of the bed while she composed herself. "Jim, I've never felt this way after sex. There was always something missing."

"Not anymore, I hope."

"No, no longer."

"Connie, I love you. It feels great to say it to you. You make me feel complete."

"Guess that's what I was trying to say. You make me feel complete, as well. We have sex because we love each other. Not sex for the sake of sex. Until today, I never understood what was missing."

"I'm not complaining, but you had years of opportunity to meet somebody that you could love."

"Not sure why I never found anyone, Jim. There was always a piece missing. Probably, I knew even back in high school that you meant something more to me than just a brother. In the back of my mind or in a corner of my heart."

"There's something almost unbelievable about all this: How we each didn't love anyone else after all these years. If I was inclined that way, I'd believe it was destiny or pre-destiny. That we were meant for each other?"

"Who cares? It seems to be *angels on the head of pin*. We'll just make the most of it."

I accepted the invitation by pulling her into a kiss and putting my hand on her pussy. When I slipped a finger into her, she moaned into my mouth. Transferred the hand from her shoulder to her face to cup her cheek. I wanted to have a dozen hands to touch her everywhere. She retaliated by taking my rehardened cock into her hand and gently squeezing it. We enjoyed each other till it became imperative to get more connected.

Using her for leverage, I crawled behind her and lay on my back. She turned and landed partially on top of me. Her lips to my lips, her nipples buried in the hair on my chest, and one hand on my cock. We made out for a while and then she climbed on top. I helped her position her pussy over my waving cock. She steadied my cock and sank down on it. With exquisite slowness she descended. I don't think it was because she was extremely tight, although she was, but more with a desire to extend the pleasure. I didn't rush her. It could take all day on my end. I took her tits into my hands, supporting them, weighing them, teasing the nipples. She threw her head back and moaned my name, "Jim, Jim, Jim, I love you and will for the rest of our lives."

That also seemed to invigorate her. Her bouncing got faster and longer, increasing every minute till I could barely hold on to her. When she came she slammed down hard enough that the recoil lifted her off me. As she fell over, I shot three streams of cum over both of us. "Holy shit!"

We dozed off, even though it was just noon. Karen wouldn't be back for several days, and we wanted to make the most of it. After a sticky nap, we took a shower together. This isn't as simple as it sounds. My bathroom and shower have adaptations to allow me to wash without trying to stand on artificial legs. I shed the legs at the shower door. I have a kind of trapeze swing that I pull up on and into the shower. I can then sit in a shower chair to wash. Getting back is a reversal, except that I have a stool next to the door where I can sit and put on my legs or use crutches if I want a change or my stumps are sore.

I had never taken a shower with a woman before Connie. I was never certain how a woman would react. I knew that Connie would be OK. With her there it was a lot easier. I swung in and she guided me to the chair that we had moved aside to accommodate her. She played the water over both of us and then soaped me. *Note to self: Get one of those European ones that have a hose so that it would be easier to spray everything. *

She was taller than me when I was seated, so she had an easy time washing my hair and upper body. I could see her shiver when she got a good look at all my scars. She spent a lot of time on my upper body, carefully washing it, playing in the jungle on my chest. I told her, "They don't hurt now." Well, one of them was uncomfortable. One piece of metal in my arm was left in because they didn't think it was necessary to remove. It had worked around so that if pressure was put on it, it hurt. I would probably need to get it removed soon.

I enjoyed the shit out of her washing me. Her hand glided over my skin. It was erotic as hell. She knelt down to do my lower body. Not too surprisingly, she spent a lot of effort on my dick and balls.

I washed her hair since she was already kneeling down. I had never done that for a woman before, so I learned all about shampoo (rosewood, of course) and conditioner. Not sure I really understood what conditioner was for, but apparently women routinely use it.

When that was done, she stood up. That offered a magnificent view! I was right at tit-level. Couldn't resist pulling her into me so my face was on her tits. Discovered this was a good position for me to wash her ass. Ran the soap down her back till I got to her crack, then dropped it so I could lather up my hands and run them into her crack. Used my left hand to pull her cheek and the right hand to stroke up and down the valley. She twitched each time my finger hit her star. Kept it up till I was sure she was clean and then continued onto her taint and finally her pussy. When I opened the bottom of her pussy up, a stream of cum ran down her right leg. I tried unsuccessfully to push it back in, but she started bucking too hard for me to do more than put a couple of fingers inside of her. I reluctantly (right!) allowed her to continue till she came, and her ejaculate splattered my chest.

I let her recover and then poked her star with my middle finger. She whimpered when I pushed it into her rear. She hugged my head harder - barely possible - and shimmied. She pulled away and faced me, "There's more to wash."

There was, indeed. I eagerly soaped and rinsed her tits and pubic hair. Stroked her pussy without putting soap into it. I don't like the taste of soap.

She helped me out and asked me if she could attach my legs. I thought it was kind of a strange request, but what the hell? She put her head on my upper legs and just stayed there, gently stroking them, "I'm so happy that you're alive. How final it could have been."

We threw on bathrobes and went to the kitchen, as my rumbling stomach reminded us that we hadn't eaten recently. She fixed a couple of sandwiches, and we returned to the sofa. The way she moved told me she wanted to say something.

"Jim, where do we go from here? What's going to happen to us? I love you desperately and don't ever want to be away from you. How do we manage that? Karen? Our parents?"

"I don't have a crystal ball, so... I love you. I refuse to give you up for even a minute. We will have to be discrete when Karen is home, but I think we will have to tell her something sooner, rather than later. She's smart and picks up things really fast. My fear is that she won't understand and will make you choose between her and me. That's the worst case possible. We can't put you in that position. You have to have both of us. I have to have both of you. We also can't lie to her and tell her we're really not brother and sister. Our sin must be omission: We hold off telling her till we have to."

"Think you're right, damn it. That means late-night sex and few showers together."

"Probably not that bad. She has a social life, and it will expand to sleepovers and school trips then we can expand our activities."

"Mom and Dad? I don't know what they'll think. No idea. One thing for sure, Karen needs to know before they do."

We turned on the TV. An excuse to just hold each other. Well, a little more, as it wasn't very long before I had my hand inside the robe and onto her tit. Of course, she wasn't idle either. She started to fondle my cock. It didn't take long for me to get hard. Not being 18, you'd think that after cumming three times in the last six hours, I'd be slow to respond. Like fuck! I was stiff in nothing flat.

Both Connie and her robe slid to the floor. She got between my legs and started licking my left leg from the joint and up to my groin. Then she started the journey of kissing my right leg up to my cock. She started licking the underside, then over the top. She had to pull my cock down to lick the top. She couldn't get far, so she reversed direction and started licking the sides, manipulating the direction I was pointed in. The first time she slipped the head into her mouth, I almost came. First, the anticipation, and second the heat and moisture of her mouth. She wasn't just blowing me; she was loving my cock. I could see she enjoyed it almost as much as I did. She would use both hands in coordination with her mouth to peak my excitement without causing me to cum and end it all. I didn't look at the clock, so have no idea of how long she kept it up. She was a genius at backing off enough so that only a fountain of pre-cum was produced. She directed my cock towards her cheeks, causing a bulge. She didn't try to deep-throat me. There wasn't any need, as I couldn't get more pleasure from what she was doing even if she took me fully. I didn't care where she learned how to love my cock.

She backed off a little and tried to stick her tongue into my urethra. She didn't get much in but gave it a good try. It was becoming more difficult to not let me go over the edge. She gave up and attacked the glans full fury. Think the cum started in my missing toes and travelled at the speed of sound into her mouth, "FFFFFFFFUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!"

She swallowed everything. Thought she was going to suck my balls out through my cock.

We enjoyed each other to the fullest until Mom and Dad brought Karen home New Years Day. New Years evening had been a night to chisel in stone. We were barely up when they returned.

With Karen home, we had to be very careful. It was impossible to completely back way from what we had been doing. It was obvious to Karen that we'd changed some. We told her that we were just much more comfortable with each other. That explained the touches, hugs and kisses.

We managed to conceal our relationship from Karen for two years. Karen was 13 and had long since had the birds and the bees talk. She also was very aware of what was happening in school and caught glimpses of movies we sometime tried to sneak in. She never caught us doing anything really incriminating, but there were too many unexplained touches and comments.

Just before Christmas vacation, when our parents were coming to stay and Karen returning with them when they left, she saw us sitting together on the sofa. "Mom, Uncle Jim, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. You can ask us anything at all."

"Promise you'll answer and not lie to me?"

Connie and I looked at each other, then her. "Yes. We will never lie to you."

"Are you and Uncle Jim sleeping together?"

We knew this would eventually come up... "Yes, Karen, we are. We're in love with each other, the way a husband and wife are."

"But he's your brother. You're not supposed to do that."

"Well, honey, when you fall in love, you can't pick who you love. You can deny it to yourself or to the other person, but it doesn't go away. You can accept it and maybe live out your life with the person you love."

"How come everything I've read says that's a terrible thing. None of the kids at school even like their brother, much less love them... I don't understand."

"Well, all the religious and family laws condemn it for a couple of reasons: If one party has a dominate position over the other, then it could be forced. Even if it's completely consensual, then the chances of birth defect increases. So, secular law tries to keep the population whole."

"Your Uncle Jim and I love each other, and we admit it to each other. We want to live our lives together... Since neither of us forced the other, there's no concern there... Karen, there's something I've never told you, but now you're old enough to understand."

She looked straight at Connie.

"After you were born, I got pregnant again. Something went wrong in my body and the pregnancy almost killed me. They had to operate on me to save me, but it resulted in me being unable to give you a sibling."

Karen's eyes got big. She jumped onto Connie and gave her a giant hug. "I know that must hurt. You probably wanted more kids."

"Karen, we have you. That's more than enough. We love you and couldn't be happier that we have you."

"Is Uncle Jim my father?"

"No, honey, but I wish he was."

"Where's my real father? You've always told me you don't know."

"I've never lied to you. I don't know who your father is, and I never want to know."

"Why don't you know? You explained how biology works."

"When I was younger, I slept with different men. I wasn't careful with them, like we've told you that you will have to be when you get older."

"Is that why Uncle Jim didn't like you? Before I got hurt, you never talked to each other."

"No, that's not why... I said and did some really terrible things. Uncle Jim had every right to hate me... When you're older, I'll try to explain... But you know your father couldn't love you more than Uncle Jim does."

She thought about that for a second. "Probably not... Is Uncle Jim going to be my father now?'

"He and I can never get married, so he's never going to be your *official* father. We'd be very, very happy if you want him to be your father."

"I think I would be, too... Can I start calling you dad?"

I nodded. Connie continued, "Well, you can, but not right away. Grandpa and Grandma don't know, so before you spring it on them, we'll need to talk about it. Please don't say anything to them, yet."

"Mom, I think you're wrong. I'm pretty sure they know. That's one of the things they tried to hide from me - a big clue to the puzzle."

Connie and I looked at each other as if to say, "What the fuck?"

"You really think they know?"

"Not 100% sure, but pretty darn close... Do you want to find out for sure?"

Connie looked at me as if to say, "Try it?"

"How do you propose doing that, Karen?"

"She smiled, "Simple. I answer the door and yell *Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa are here*."

I told Connie, "Cunning little devil, isn't she?" Then Karen, "OK, you can try it."

Karen did indeed call that out. Mom responded, "Please get your Mom and Dad to help us get the things out of the car."

End of drama.

FIN

Author injects: This is the end of the love story between a brother and sister. If you're a romantic who believes that love involves exactly two people, then you might want to skip the next part.