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“I will come with her,” Jane says. “I need to reclaim my sorely misused cane.”
* * *
Storm is not happy to be heading back into the schoolhouse, but at least she has Jane by her side now. She feels much safer than she otherwise would.
There’s definitely something going on between Laura and Jane. The chemistry is palpable, though slightly bad tempered at the moment.
When they arrive at the office, Jane turns to Laura and issues an instruction.
“Laura, please take Storm further down the hall and keep here there. I do not want to conduct this conversation in earshot of her.”
Laura is taciturn as usual when she leads Storm further down the hall, far enough away that the conversation between Frau Lotte and Jane is not audible.
Jane goes into the office, and silence draws out. It is awkward, standing here, sore and yet again guilty. Laura’s silence is hard to stand, especially when Storm can feel so much broiling inside it. So many unspoken words are wrapping around her, making her conscience prick.
“So,” Storm says. “How was your night?”
Laura mutters something under her breath that might or might not be the German forcockblock.
“Mine’s been good. Bracing air…”
Roused into speech, Laura turns and looks down at Storm, who does not have the benefit of being a six-foot-tall super soldier. The motion alone makes Storm take a step back. She is promptly pulled forward again by the front of her dress firmly enough to keep her in prime lecturing distance.
“Do not be flippant. Your disobedience has caused trouble for all of us. If it were up to me, you would be soundly spanked and sent to bed. These marks on your legs might hurt, but you are clearly far from chastised.”
“Hey, I didn’t…”
“Enough,” Laura says sternly. “You knew what you were doing. You know how to take a punishment, and if you do not, you will be learning from today. I will attend each and every one to hold you in place if necessary. You have two good women arguing in there, and it is because you want to misbehave and get away with it, and because you got yourself hurt when you should have been obedient, or better still, should have never started trouble in the first place. You do not need to argue every point. You can simply obey.”
Storm’s lower lip quivers and her eyes mist with tears, but that has no effect on Laura whatsoever. That hard stare does not let her go. It does not soften. And it does not yield.
* * *
Meanwhile, Jane and Frau Lotte are having the kind of tense and terse conversation that can only happen between two very annoyed people who are dead set on being professional as possible.
“I expect a girl to bend over for her punishment and not leap about like a wild animal. Is that so unreasonable, Miss Strict? Would you tolerate such behavior?”
“I would put a girl who could not control herself in the corner until such time as she collected herself. I would not attempt to beat an object in motion. One can hit worse things than thighs, Frau Lotte.”
The disagreement, such as it is, is interrupted by the familiar, yet unexpected sound of hand meeting bottom, followed by a knock at the door. Both women turn, their expressions clearly reflecting irritation.
Laura ushers Storm back into the office. “The young lady has something to say,” she says, folding her arms over her chest behind Storm, looming ever so effectively.
Jane has no idea what is happening, aside from the fact it is not what she asked to have happen. Laura does not follow orders one bit, it seems.
But Storm does, in this moment, at least. When she speaks it is in humble and guilty tones that suggest somehow Laura has gotten through to her.
“I’m sorry I was rude and didn’t listen to you, Frau Lotte, and that I got myself hurt by moving when you told me to stay still,” Storm says, looking at her toes rather than at anybody. “And I’m sorry, Miss Strict, for coc…. Ow!”
Laura clips her over the ear sharply and derails that particular train of linguistic disobedience.
“For interrupting your evening with Miss König,” she says.
Frau Lotte and Jane exchange looks. Neither one of them seem sure what to say, which does not matter, because Laura takes charge once more.
“Storm is going to go to bed now,” Laura says. “Say goodnight, Storm.”
“Good night, Storm,” Storm says, scooting out of the room before anybody else can smack her.
