The boy stood completely still, his eyes wide with alarm while he breathed heavily.  Jess stared at him, her brain trying to make sense of what she was seeing. 

Her first thought was that this was James's boy.  It had to be.  After all, the gates were kept locked all the time.  And Annie wouldn't keep something as important as having a son from her.  But as she examined the boy, something about him didn't add up. 

He was smaller and younger than Douglas, but still taller than her.  Floppy golden brown hair fell over his eyes, like it hadn't been cut in a while, nor had he used any cream to try to smooth it into place.  His striped t-shirt had a hole where the neck had separated from the body and his jeans were well worn and smudged with dirt.  They were short enough Jess could see his lace-up boots, the brown leather looking ancient and scuffed.  His skin was darkened, as if he spent a lot of time outside in the sun.  Surely James wouldn't let his son walk around in this state.

"Who are you?" she asked, and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm nobody!" he growled, but his voice was still higher and younger sounding than Douglas's.

"But – where did you come from?" she tried again, still confused.  

"It doesn't matter," he muttered bitterly, and turned, heading for the woods.

"Wait!" she called out, and started after him. 

He suddenly turned and stalked up to her, his face menacing.  She took a step back, afraid of what he was going to do to her.

"Listen, kid!" he snarled, standing over her.  "Forget you ever saw me!  Get it?"  As she searched his brown eyes, they were clouded with anger and suspicion but there was something else inside them she recognized – fear.

"I'm not going to tell anyone I saw you," she said softly.

He snorted as if he didn't believe her, but he remained standing over her, eyeing her carefully.  She kept her eyes on his, willing him to see she was telling the truth.  After a moment, his shoulders relaxed slightly and his eyes softened, and then it was gone, his eyes becoming guarded again.

"Just make sure you don't!" he warned, and then he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" she called out again.  "Please don't go!"  When he kept walking, she ran to catch up to him and he suddenly turned on her. 

"Why?  What's your deal anyway?" he demanded suspiciously.

"I – I just thought we could talk – a little," she said weakly.

"Well, maybe I don't want to talk to you!" he sneered.

Immediately reminded of the way Douglas had rejected her, a lump formed in her throat, making it impossible to speak.  But she didn't want to say what she was thinking anyway.  It would be too embarrassing to admit how much his words had hurt, or that she couldn't bear to watch him walk away, probably to disappear forever.  Feeling her intense loneliness overwhelm her, she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and blinked hard to keep back the tears.

He slowly straightened as he kept his eyes on her.  Then he took a deep breath and blew it out as he looked away, his shoulders relaxing.  When he looked back at her, his eyes weren't nearly as guarded.

"Listen, kid.  I'm busy, okay?  So why don't you just –."

"Doing what?" she interrupted.

"I don't know!" he said, waving his arms with exasperation. 

"Maybe – maybe I could help," she suggested.  He scowled and she added quickly, "I mean – whatever it is, it might be easier if –."

"Why would you want to help me?" he asked, suddenly suspicious again.

"I – I like helping people – and besides, there isn't anyone else here to talk to."

"You're lying!  You think I don't know other people live here?" he insisted, his eyes wary again.

"My uncle works all the time –," she started, and immediately knew she'd said the wrong thing by the look of alarm on his face.  "And my cousin is gone for the summer –," she added quickly.  "And the housekeeper –."

"Okay, okay!  I get it!" he shouted.  She could tell from the guarded look in his eyes, he no longer trusted her, but she didn't blame him.  Of course he would know her uncle – and his reputation. 

"I meant it when I said I won't tell anyone," she said quietly. 

"Why should I believe you?"  She knew if she didn't say something, he was about to run off.  Feeling desperate, she said the only thing she could think of.

"Because I swear it.  I swear on my parent's graves I won't tell."  A look crossed his face before he could hide it, a mixture of surprise and pain before his eyes were guarded again.

"Well – just see you don't," he said, trying to sound as menacing as before, but his voice was softer.  Taking advantage of his momentary stillness, she held her hand out.

"I'm Jessica, but you can call me Jess."  He looked at her hand for a moment, then finally put his hand in hers, the darkness of his soft skin, contrasting with her paleness.  

"Marty," he mumbled to the ground.  She couldn't help smiling.  He told her his name.

"It's nice to meet you Marty," she said, starting to shake his hand, but he pulled it out while avoiding her eyes.  "So what were you going to do?" she asked, trying to get him to talk more, but he didn't respond.

After a minute, he looked up with a guarded glare.  "You'll see," he snarled, and turned, heading directly into the woods.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to follow him.  She didn't know what he might do.  But as she watched him walk away, she couldn't bear the thought she might never see him again. 

Scrambling to catch up, she awkwardly made her way over the forest floor, littered with fallen tree trunks and brush, her mary jane shoes no help to her at all.  Before long, her ankle socks were covered in small burrs, and the undergrowth grabbed her skirt and scratched at her bare legs.  As she struggled to keep up, she noticed Marty didn't seem to have any trouble at all, effortlessly climbing over trunks and broken branches, his jeans and boots much more suited to walking through the woods.

She was soon breathing heavily and sweat formed on her forehead, but as Marty kept marching forward, she didn't dare stop for fear of losing him.  As they went deeper and deeper into the woods, she wondered where he was going.  After several minutes, she saw him glance over his shoulder at her before he finally stopped.  She stopped as well, grateful for a chance to catch her breath while she watched him, wiping sweat off her forehead. 

He looked around, then went to a fallen tree branch and picked it up.  Snapping the wood in half, he laid the two pieces on the ground and then went to pick up another, much smaller branch.  After laying it with the first two, he went to another.  As she watched him, it started to make sense.  He was gathering firewood. 

Eager to help, she looked around and found a branch. When she took it to lay on his pile, he watched her for a second, then turned his back to her as he snapped a particularly large branch in several pieces using his foot. 

While the two of them worked in silence, a million questions ran through her mind.  Who was he?  Where did he come from?  She was almost certain he wasn't living in the cabin, but where did he live?  It must have been him who was taking care of it, but why?  Did he have a family?  He had to come from somewhere, but how did he get on the property?  But she knew better than to ask him.  He was already suspicious of her.  She knew if she pressed him, even a little, he'd trust her even less, or possibly even run off.

At one point, he happened to look over.  "Not the green ones!" he said with exasperation, as he walked over to take a branch that still had leaves attached to it from her hand.  "Don't you know they don't burn?" he said with disgust, tossing it.

"Oh."

"Find the old dead ones," he muttered, before walking away.

"Okay," she said, feeling equal parts embarrassed for not knowing about such things, and happy he was actually talking to her. 

When there was a sizable pile of branches, he started to gather them together. 

"I can help carry," she said, stepping forward.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, picking up the bundle.  "You can barely walk not carryin' nothin'." 

"I guess you're right," she said with a light laugh, trying to make a joke but he didn't respond.

Leading the way back to the cabin with the big pile of branches in his arms, he walked much slower, making it easier to follow him.  Jess had no idea how he knew which way to go since they weren't following any path, but if he spent a lot of time in the woods, it would make sense he could recognize where he was. 

It took a long time to reach the cabin, and when they did, Marty threw the bundle of branches on the ground.  Then he began breaking them into smaller pieces and throwing them into the soap crate that was just inside the door.  Following his lead, Jess began breaking down the branches too, while he pretended not to notice.

When they were finished, he pushed on the handle of the pump at the sink until water came out, then washed dirt off his hands and arms.  Jess looked down at her dirty hands, and then her stomach growled.  She knew it was getting late and she needed to get back to the house, but she was reluctant to leave.  What if he decided never to come back?  But she knew she didn't have any choice.  She couldn't take a chance of not getting back before Uncle Jonathon.

"I hope its okay – if I come back to see you again, Marty," she said, while he wiped his hands on his t-shirt.

He scowled at her for long minute, then shrugged his shoulders.  "It's a free country, ain't it?" he muttered.  Her heart sank, but at least he didn't make it seem like he was never coming back.

"Well, good bye," she said, forcing a smile as she held her hand out.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to scowl at her.  When it was clear he wasn't going to shake, she dropped her hand and turned towards the front door with a heavy heart.  Before she walked out of the cabin, she looked back.  He still had his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.  She made a small wave, and then walked out.

The whole way back to the house, she felt a lump in her throat, wondering if she would ever see him again.  Just before she stepped off the path, she stopped and took a moment to collect herself.  Whether he ever came back or not, was out of her hands.  The most important thing she needed to worry about now, was making sure her uncle didn't find out she was going to the cabin, especially because it would lead him to Marty.

She crept up towards the front of the garage, then peeked around the corner.  Relieved to see the garage doors closed, she hurried around to the back door of the house.  Once inside, she was surprised at how late in the afternoon it was.  She was starving, but she was far too dirty to get by with a simple hand washing.  Her dress, arms and legs were smudged with dirt. 

Worried about how much time she had before her uncle got home, she ran upstairs to her bathroom and quickly ran a bath.  She scrubbed hard to get rid of all the evidence she'd been in the woods, then dried as quickly as she could.  As soon as she was in a clean dress, she went downstairs.  Pulling out the casserole Annie had left for her to reheat, she put it in the stove then set the table for her and Uncle Jonathon's dinner. 

The longer she waited for him, the more nervous she felt that he would figure out where she'd spent the day.  She knew it was silly.  She'd gotten rid of any traces she'd been in the woods, and she'd been careful not to let James see her go to the cabin, but what if he guessed it by looking at her face? 

Then she thought about Marty.  It was obvious he wasn't being cared for very well from the look of his clothes and hair.  But his life would be ten times worse if Uncle Jonathon found him.  She had no doubt her uncle would call the police, and he'd probably have Marty put in jail.  Whatever had happened to that boy in his life that caused him to be trespassing on the property, he didn't deserve to have that happen to him too.

By time she saw the big black car pass the kitchen window, her stomach was in knots with worry.  She was putting the last of the food on the table when her uncle walked into the dining room with a stack of mail and papers. 

"Jessica," he said curtly as he sat, and she joined him saying a quiet, "Hi," while avoiding looking at him.  He held his hand out and she handed him her plate.

Without a word he filled their plates and they began eating.  While he read his papers, Jess kept her head down, grateful for the first time he ignored her during meals.  As the minutes passed she slowly relaxed, realizing he wasn't going to notice anything was different. 

She spent the rest of the dinner thinking about visiting Marty the next day.  It would be nice to spend the day with him.  He still didn't trust her, but once he realized she was going to keep his secret, he'd warm up to her.  She was sure of it. 

While she took the empty dishes to the kitchen to wash, she smiled as she thought about how she had the whole summer to look forward to now – a whole summer with Marty.

****

Dedicated to katrinacarnoky.  To Katt, for being such a good friend, and to Em.  Without you, there would be no Marty. 

I hope all of you enjoyed your first glimpse of the 'boy'.  I'm anxious to know what all of you think of Marty.  What are your guesses as to what's his story?  And how do you think Jess will fare with him?

The picture in the multimedia is 14 year old Johnny Crawford aka Marty.  The video is Lonely Boy by Paul Anka.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving it a vote!  To everyone who has been reading, and supporting this story with your comments and votes, THANK YOU!  I can't tell you how much it means to me.