A First Time for Everything

Standard Disclaimer

Trixie Belden® is a registered trademark of Western Publishing (Golden Books), now part of Random House. These pages are not affiliated with Random House. They are not for profit. I’m making no money from this, so please do not sue me as I do not have anything anyone wants in the first place. I do not have permission to use these wonderful Trixie Belden® characters, but I’m filling in the blanks of their childhood from my own imagination and letting them actually have a life irregardless. Any characters not owned by Random House are made up from my own scary imagination – it was getting rather crowded & they were complaining so I had to let some of them out.

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing. Thanks!

Chapter One

 Crabapple Farm, mid-June, two years later……

“MARTIN CHRISTOPHER BELDEN! WHICH PART OF ‘LEAVE YOUR SISTER ALONE’ WAS UNCLEAR TO YOU?!!”

Four young pairs of eyes stared at their mother, their faces a study in open-mouthed shock.

Helen Belden, lovingly known as ‘Moms’ to her children; was known to be irritated and lose her patience with them from time to time. On occasion, she might raise her voice.

But she rarely lost her temper, and she NEVER yelled.

Until now.

Mart had frozen mid-stride in the kitchen while gleefully fleeing his irate sister. Trixie was two steps behind, and skidded to a halt. His merry giggles and her furious shouts died simultaneously as they stared in trepidation at their visibly angry mother.

The silence was deafening. The only sounds were the faint clucking of the hens out back in the chicken coop.

The clucking broke Brian out of his startled silence. “C’mon, Bobby,” he said in a quiet, cheerful voice. Taking his four-year-old brother gently by the hand, he led him out the back door. “Let’s go outside, and I’ll show you the trick for keeping the hens distracted while we gather the fresh eggs.”

“But we just fed th’ chick-enz, Brian!” Bobby grumped, and then brightened. “Hey! We can check on the new baby chicks! Maybe all th’ feed I gave them made ‘em grow real big by now!”

“You never know! We’d better check, just in case,” Brian chuckled, affectionately ruffling Bobby’s blond curls.

Bobby’s excited chatter from the backyard could be heard distantly through the screen door. “Wow! Did ya see THAT! Moms is gonna KILL Mart! Can I go watch? Can I-Can I-Can I?”

Helen turned back to the kitchen counter she had been wiping down. Bracing her hands on the edge, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. Then twenty.

“Martin, Beatrix” she murmured in a desperately calm tone. “Sit down.”

“But Moms! She….!” Mart began sputtering in protest.

“I… SAID…SIT…DOWN,” Helen carefully enunciated between clenched teeth. She relaxed only when she heard the scrape and rustle of two kitchen chairs being pulled out from under the table and two bodies seating themselves. What is it with thirteen-year-old boys? she wondered. Their common sense seems to abandon them overnight, and in its place they develop a death wish!

All morning long, Helen’s rapidly waning patience with her second eldest child had been hidden by her calm, cheerful demeanor.

No matter how many times she broke up squabbles between Mart and Trixie, which were usually started by Mart’s incessant teasing.

No matter how many times she heard Brian quietly act as the ‘calm voice of reason’ between his brother and sister.

No matter how many times Bobby complained that no one was playing with him “cause they’re too busy tellin’ Mart an’ Trix not to fight.”

Through it all, somehow Helen had managed to hang on to her sanity, her tongue, and her temper.

After the last round of sibling bickering, she had had a stroke of genius and had redirected Mart to another part of the house with other chores – some of them completely contrived - just to keep him away from Trixie. And in an effort to close any possible loopholes, she had also point-blank instructed Mart and Trixie to leave each other alone. No picking, teasing, bickering, fighting, or invasion of each other’s personal space for the rest of the DAY.

At this point Brian had quickly volunteered for the outdoor chores, and took Bobby with him to feed the chickens and water the vegetable garden. Helen wasn’t sure if this was in an effort to escape the endless sniping between his siblings, or to keep his baby brother from picking up potentially bad habits from them.

A scant hour later, Helen found Mart picking on his sister, yet again. This time, he was crowing about being a TEENAGER, while Trixie was still just a KID.

That was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back; or, in this case, Helen’s control on her temper. For a split second Helen considered letting her furious daughter pulverize her brother. The looks that Trixie was shooting Mart were enough to set fire to an iceberg.

There was nothing unusual with her ‘almost-twins’ aggravating each other. Their taunts usually consisted of one-liners and ‘zingers’ tossed back and forth like a friendly verbal ping-pong match. And there was nothing unusual with her eldest son, Brian, casting himself in the role of referee, stepping in to diffuse the situation if one or the other sibling’s words became too harsh.

What was unusual was, what had started out for twelve-year-old Trixie as mild cramps three days ago had become a full-blown case of PMS, complete with blinding headache, severe nausea, wrenching cramps, water retention, and The Mood Swings from Hell. This was only the second time Trixie had had to struggle through with the nearly debilitating symptoms. Her first time had been relatively mild, and both mother and daughter had taken the heralding of her transition from child to young womanhood in stride. This time was much more difficult, and all the Midol and Motrin Trixie could safely take weren’t making it any easier.

Trust Murphy’s Law to pick NOW of all times to come into play.

Trixie wasn’t embarrassed by her recent physical changes, but she did feel some things just were none of her older brothers’ business, reasoning they would eventually figure things out on their own without any assistance on her part.

Since privacy was decidedly an issue here, Helen agreed with her daughter’s request to keep the ‘news’ on a need-to-know basis. That group currently consisted of three people: Trixie herself, Helen, and Peter.

Poor Peter!

Helen smiled inwardly as she recalled her husband’s reaction when she’d told him his Princess had taken yet another step toward growing up. It was a very good thing they were in the privacy of their bedroom – Peter had nearly passed out from the shock. I wonder what’ll happen when Trixie goes on her first date? Helen mused.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned and faced the pair seated at opposite ends of the table. Looking into her children’s faces, she saw past the obvious anger at each other’s pestering, and contrition for disobeying her in the first place. Underneath it all was confusion, and hurt.

The ‘need-to-know basis’ theory obviously wasn’t working out at all.

She sat in the chair between them, rested her elbows on the table, and propped her chin in her hands. “To badly quote an old movie from my youth,” Helen quipped, “‘what we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.’” She returned Trixie’s pleading look with a gentle shake of her head. “Mart, since you obviously want to talk to your sister, you go first. What do you want to talk about?”

“I…I don’t know……”

“Let’s try this again. Pretend Trixie’s not in the room. No, Trixie,” she stopped her daughter as she began to rise from her chair. “Stay put, please. Now, Mart; just look at me and tell me what’s really going on?”

Mart fidgeted nervously in his chair, looking everywhere but at his mother and sister. He finally met his mother’s compassionate gaze and concentrated on her china-blue eyes like they were a lifeline. Swallowing convulsively once, he suddenly burst out, “That’s just it, Moms! She won’t talk to me! For almost two whole months, she’s been all ‘Miss Secretive.’ Whenever I try to get her to talk to me, she explodes like Old Faithful and acts like the Wicked Witch of the West, and I wind up picking on her instead. Even when I’m NOT picking on her, she’s all secretive and quiet……we used to tell each other everything.”

His china-blue eyes misted over for a moment, and he angrily blinked away the tell-tale moisture. Darting a hurt, angry glance at his sister, he mumbled despondently, “It’s like she’s not even Trixie anymore. She’s like…some alien from Star Trek, and I’m the only one without a Universal Translator.”

For the second time that day, Trixie was staring at a family member in open-mouthed shock. As usual, when Mart’s emotions were in play, his use of five-and-ten dollar words dropped dramatically.

“Trixie,” Helen gently prompted, “would you care to share?”

Trixie closed her mouth, still staring at her brother. Finally finding her voice, she stammered, “I haven’t been ‘Miss Secretive’…I mean, I wasn’t TRYING to be! I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to shut you out…”

“Well, you did a fantastic job of it anyway,” Mart grumbled, his embarrassment over his earlier outburst giving way to his initial anger with his sister’s odd behavior. “So what is going on that’s so important you clammed up like a stone statue?”

“I was just, well, I had…er, that is, have some umm, other things going on, that’s all. Nothing to get all upset about or anything, it’s just sort of …important. And personal. Jeepers, I thought you’d have figured it out by now……”

“Personal, schmersonal!” Mart interrupted with a snort as he regained some of his balance. “My dear sibling, you are far too young and immature to have anything of a remotely personal nature going on in your very brief and rather boring existence.”

Oh, jeepers creepers, here we go again! Helen wailed silently.

“What do you mean, immature?! Just because you’re eleven lousy months older than me doesn’t matter a hill of beans!!” Trixie snapped, leaning forward with a menacing glare. “As a matter of fact, I’ll have you know that last month…..”

Mart cocked an arrogant brow at his sister, gaining steam in equal proportion to Trixie’s obviously rising temper as he interrupted her once again. “And if you are under the delusion that you DO have something so vastly important occurring during the time-span of your dull and unremarkable existence, then you most definitely have a moral obligation to me, your elder and therefore wiser sibling, to inform me of your mistaken assumption so I may be of assistance in disabusing you of the errant notion.”

By the end of his monologue, Trixie was once again livid. “You call THAT bunch of gobble-dee-gook TALKING? I’ll bet you don’t even know half of what you just said! And what do you mean you’ve been trying to talk to me?” Trixie’s voice began to rise with renewed indignation. “You haven’t been trying to talk to me! You’ve been doing nothing but pick-pick-pick and I DO NOT EXPLODE! I don’t have to tell you EVERYTHING!” She suddenly glared at Mart, an evil glint darkening her eyes to a stormy blue. “If you were as intelligent as you think you are, Smarty Marty, you’d have already figured it out by now…”

Helen was tiredly massaging her temples. Mart’s attitude toward his sister was beginning to grate on her all-too-recently grated-upon nerves. It was time to fight fire with fire and put a temporary halt to Mart’s antagonism tactics.

“Mart, dear,” she began in a gentle tone. “Provoking the matriarch of this family may have serious and unexpected repercussions. Therefore, kindly refrain from the overextended use of poly-syllabic vocabulary while still immersed in H2O in excess of one-hundred degrees Celsius with only your cranial cavity still un-submerged. In this instance, your linguistic acrobatics are detrimental to this discussion, and are neither humorous nor appreciated by the feminine element in this room.” She took another cleansing breath and leveled a no-nonsense look at her astonished son. “In other words, don’t mess with me kid - you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Stow the dictionary while you’re still up to your neck in hot water, Martin, because you are not helping, and right now neither your sister nor I think you are funny. Trixie, please continue.”

Trixie leaned back in her chair with a speculative expression on her face. She scratched the tip of her freckled nose thoughtfully as she regarded her gloating brother. Another evil grin slowly spread across her face as an idea began to take shape.

Helen mentally raised her eyebrows. This ought to be good, she mused. At least she’s not threatening to scalp him!

Not caring for the look of unholy glee on his sister smirking face, Mart began to fidget in his chair once more. Without breaking eye contact, Trixie leaned forward in her chair and rested her forearms casually on the kitchen table.

“Tell you what, Mart. You want to know what’s going on? Fine, I’ll tell you, but it’s gonna cost you. Here’s the deal: If you ever call me ‘Wicked Witch of the West’ or any other name, or tease me about this, I swear to you, Martin Belden, I’ll make you ride your bike down to Lytell’s General Store and…ASSIST me in keeping up with my ‘personal business.’” She held out her right hand across the table. “Shake on it?”

He eyed his sister suspiciously. Mart could literally sense a trap, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Trix; but if it gets things back to normal around here then, sure, we have a deal.” With great reluctance he reached out to shake his sister’s hand. “Now, what in Sam Hill is going on!”

Without answering, Trixie stood and calmly went to the utility closet in the mudroom and removed a half full brown plastic grocery bag. Reaching inside, she removed the pink, blue, and white carton and placed it before her astounded brother.

“What the heck are you doing with THOSE?! Eeew!” he gingerly poked at the words ‘maxi’ and ‘extra absorbent’ printed in pastel blue on the front of the package in an effort to put some distance between himself and the brightly-colored box.

“That’s part of the deal, Oh Brother of Mine.”

“Whaaattaya mean? You don’t need….those…yet…do…you?” he finished weakly.

Mimicking his earlier superior expression, she cocked a sandy blond eyebrow. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

“But you’re too young for that!!”

“Wanna bet and lose, ya big dork?”

“AAACK! TMI!!! TEE-EMM-EYE!!! Mental image! Ick Factor Overload!” He looked to his mother for confirmation, and was met with a gentle smile as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

With a sigh, he faced his sister with a chagrined half-smile. “So, should I ever perchance to tease you about the recent…um…CHANGES you’ve experienced, I will be consigned to taking the ol’ Schwinn down Glen Road to nosey old Mr. Lytell’s General Store and procuring your – er – monthly supplies?”

Nodding emphatically, Trixie continued, “And if you mess up REALLY bad, you get to go for THESE!” She pulled a smaller bright blue box from the bag and placed the container on the table with a flourish.

“ARRRGH! Nightmares!! Oh, the horror!” Mart cried with dramatic fervor. Clapping one hand over his eyes and pushing the feminine hygiene items away with the other, he moaned, “Now I’ll have the words ‘comfort glide applicator’ forever emblazoned in my poor stressed-out brain, too! You’re a cruel woman, Oh Sister of Mine.” He peeked up at his sister between his fingers. “But you’re serious, right?”

At Trixie’s emphatic nod, he sighed again. “Sounds fair to me.” He reached out and gave her a quick hug, tugging on the corkscrew curl tumbling over her forehead.

Sobering, he continued. “Seriously though, Trix, you could’ve told me. I wouldn’t pick on you about something like THAT!”

“I know you really wouldn’t,” she sighed as she returned to her chair. “It’s just…personal, you know?” She grinned mischievously at her almost-twin. “Sort of like how I don’t tease you about all those dark blond hairs you’ve been leaving in the drain after you take a shower……”

“HEY! THAT’S PERSONAL!!” he fairly shrieked.

“Exactly,” his mother interrupted with a knowing smile. “And I fully agree with Trixie’s method of punishment, should you ‘mess up.’ So if I ever see you coming back from Lytell’s General Store I’ll check your bags, then check your temperature, because you’d obviously have to be running a fever and delirious to risk THAT! But somehow I don’t think that’ll be a problem, will it, Mart?” Her eyes twinkled merrily as they all laughed. “I know you will respect each other’s privacy, no matter how much you tease each other.”

“So,” she continued briskly, “now that we’re all on the same page with the ‘Privacy Issue’, let’s get down to business. Uncle Jarrod and Aunt Joyce are in the area and will be coming by to visit. They’ve got the whole family with them this time; Eileen is attending a vocal competition in the City and everyone went to hear her perform.”

Smiling at the excited whoops of glee from both Mart and Trixie, she continued. “Unfortunately, Uncle Patrick and Aunt Louise have to return home immediately, but Anna, Donovan, Kyla, Maureen and Shaun are coming. Actually, they were just going to drop in for a short visit, but Dad and I convinced them to stay a couple of days.”

“Will they be bringing their motor home with them, Moms?” Mart asked, his eyes shining with excitement. “That’s one cool house-on-wheels!”

“Yes, they will. With so many people, it was easier to travel with the RV and stay at campsite-resorts along the way.”

“But Moms, how did they manage such a humongous RV in city traffic?” Trixie was clearly puzzled. “That must’ve been a nightmare!”

“Pat and Lou followed in their SUV, and when they got close to the City they checked in to an RV resort in New Jersey and used the SUV to get around. So the kids have been cooped up in a vehicle of some sort for quite some time, and they all need a break.” Helen crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, giving a mock stern stare at her ‘almost-twins.’ “And I’m counting on you kids to arrange the activities so they’ll have fun while they’re here, okay?”

While somewhat disappointed they wouldn’t be bringing any horses with them, Trixie was still nearly dancing in her chair. “It’ll be so much FUN with all the kids here! We can have a cookout, and a sing-along, go hiking in the woods, and fishing, and…..”

“Let’s go check the fishing gear before they get here!” Mart grabbed Trixie’s arm and hauled her out the back door. “C’mon, slowpoke! Get a move on!! Watsamatter? Old age creeping up on ya? We’ve got company coming and activities to plan! Let’s go!”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Moms! We’ve got it all under control!” Trixie called over her shoulder as she was towed along in her brother’s wake.

“I never doubted it for a moment,” Helen murmured as the screed door slammed. She heaved a relieved sigh. Things are back to normal on THAT front, she thought.

Returning the boxes on the kitchen table to their place in the utility closet, she glanced out the kitchen window. Mart and Trixie’s whooping and hollering had Brian and Bobby coming over to the tool shed to investigate. Brian’s been too quiet lately, and I KNOW something’s bothering him. I’ve got to get him to open up somehow! Maybe Kyla and Maureen can shake him out of his doldrums, she mused.

Her eldest seemed much more open and carefree when the Rileys came Sleepyside, even more so if at least one of those Rileys were either the effervescent Kyla or the irrepressible Maureen. Both girls had energy to spare, and seemed to light up the room wherever they went. She sighed again. If this visit doesn’t work, I’ll have to think of something else …