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JAROD’S TEDDYBEAR

by Rebeckah

Rain pelted down from the sky in a torrent, soaking Jarod to the skin in moments. He ran for the dubious shelter of the pine woods ahead, thankful that it was just rain and not lightning. A bitter wind had come with the storm and even under the trees rain found its way down the collar of his leather jacket to trickle coldly down his neck and back.

I should have listened to that store owner in town and waited until tomorrow to make this expedition. He reflected ruefully as the rain turned into sleet.

He’d been so optimistic, though. He just couldn’t bear to wait another day to find out if the person he had traced to this location really did know his mother. He’d set out against the advice of an experienced local and now he was paying for it. He was amazed at how quickly a warm day had turned into a storm.

By now the sleet had turned into a blanket of snow that masked all landmarks. He could barely see the trail he was following. He knew by the numbness of his face and feet that he was becoming dangerously chilled but he didn’t dare leave the trail to look for shelter. It was highly unlikely that there was anybody but his quarry living within miles of this place and if he stepped off the trail he would probably never be able to find his way back to it. All he could do was push on and hope he reached the house he’d been assured lay at the summit of this small mountain and the end of this track before hypothermia set in.

The snow muffled sounds and sight. The wind lashed at him; driving icy snowflakes into any part of his skin still warm enough to feel pain. The cold had numbed him so thoroughly that he no longer thought coherently. Fortunately, the trail was relatively straight and led directly to the porch and front door of a small, log cabin, type home.

He tripped against the stairs to the porch before it penetrated into his mind that he had reached his destination. Even then it was too much effort for him to get up and knock on the door. No, he was actually starting to feel warm now. He decided he’d just lay there for a few moments and gather the energy to get up…

Before he could give in to the cold and fall into the sleep that would have killed him the cabin’s door was flung open. A woman bundled in layers of skirts and sweaters peered out into the storm, holding a kerosene storm lamp over her head to illuminate the night. When she noticed Jarod lying where he had fallen on her porch she let out a colorful curse and turned back to the cabin to set down the lantern. Then she went back out into the storm and grabbed Jarod by the shoulders of his jacket. As she pulled him into the life-saving warmth of the cabin she kept up a running commentary on young fools who tried to kill themselves on her doorstep.

"Damn fool idiot!" She continued, straining to pull his dead weight closer to her cheerful fire. "Not enough sense to come in out of the rain! Or the snowstorm, as the case may be. No, boy! Don’t you fall asleep on me! I’m too old to be dressing and undressing you by myself. Help me get you out of these wet clothes!"

She slapped his face briskly, bringing him to partial awareness, bullied him out of every stitch of his wet clothing and wrapped him in a warm quilt. She then poured a mug full of the water she had heating in a kettle set to one side of the fireplace.

"Drink this, lad." Her tone seemed gentler now that she wasn’t trying to get him to do anything requiring coordination.

Even so, she had to guide the cup to Jarod’s lips herself because he had begun to shake violently as his body began to warm. By the time he had finished the hot water he was no longer shaking, but his eyelids were drooping with the exhaustion that only extreme exposure could bring on.

"Okay, youngster." She began to bully him again. "I suppose stupidity does have its rewards because I’m giving you my bed tonight."

She supported most of his weight as she maneuvered him to a small room behind the fireplace. It had an old fashioned four poster bed and a small cast iron stove on the far wall. The woman bundled him into the bed without removing his quilt cocoon and then piled more blankets on top of him. She then left the room, returning moments later with a metal bucket full of coal. After stoking the stove she checked Jarod’s temperature with the back of her hand against his cheek and then made her way out of the room, grumbling the entire time about nuisance guests who used up all of her valuable fuel.

The room warmed quickly. One wall was the back of the stone fireplace in her front room and it radiated heat from the wood fire she had built up again after Jarod was in her bed. The cast iron stove also radiated heat, counteracting the chill from the far wall that was part of the back wall of the small home. Anyone who had not been as exposed as Jarod had been would have soon complained about being put to bed in a sauna, but Jarod was still battling to recover from his brush with hypothermia.

*****

In Blue Cove, Delaware the rapid tapping of high, stiletto heels echoed down the marble corridors of the Centre. Raking dark red, shoulder length hair out of her face with one hand, she pushed open the glass door of the dingy office of her co-worker, Broots. Sydney, the other member of her team, was already there, leaning over Broots stooped shoulder to peer at the computer screen.

"What's this about finally having a lead on Boy Wonder?" She demanded abruptly, her husky voice clipped and precise as usual.

"Broots has a shot of Jarod in a convenience store in Oregon. One of those remote monitoring systems." Sydney explained in his usual dry tones, straightening up to face Miss Parker.

"Since it's forwarded to the monitoring headquarters the image can be intercepted by the right programs." Broots explained earnestly. His gentle face bore a perpetually worried look.

"I really don't care how you did it, Broots, I just want to know where he is."

"Well, we still don't know where he is." Broots clarified. "But he was in Eugene, Oregon three days ago."

"Three days!" Miss Parker exploded. "What good is that? He could be anywhere from Canada to Texas by now."

"I'm sorry, the program needs time to sort through all the information!" Broots defended himself with unaccustomed vigor.

"At least we now have an area to monitor more closely." Sydney interceded, assuming his typical role as peacemaker between the two differing personalities.

"Maybe Angelo can give us an idea as to what Jarod wants in the Northwest." Miss Parker speculated, changing from attacking to finding solutions with dizzying speed. "Print out that picture of Jarod." She ordered Broots, turning on one high heel as she spoke. "I'll see if I can locate Angelo."

Sydney shook his head slightly, a slight smile creasing his lips. Broots simply stared in bemusement as the door swung shut behind her. As usual, Miss Parker had blown in and out with the force and turmoil of a tornado.

*****

The woman finally had time to shed two of her sweaters and a layer of skirts to counteract the now intense warmth of her house. She was left with a warm red and blue checked flannel shirt that clashed terribly with her purple, yellow and green striped wool skirt. She shed her wet sheepskin slippers for a dry pair she had kept warming by the fire and placed the wet ones on the hearth to dry in turn. Jarod’s wet clothes were spread evenly across the rest of the hearth. Then she made herself a bed on the couch and a cup of tea. Sipping on her tea and curled up in her nest on the couch the woman stared thoughtfully into the fire and considered the ramifications of the night's events.

The fire softened the lines on her face and hid much of the gray in her hair but it was clear that she was old enough to be Jarod’s grandmother. Her blue eyes held a keen intelligence that belied the rambling grumbles she had greeted Jarod with. As she contemplated the meaning in a young man collapsing on her porch in the middle of the first real snowstorm of the season her face showed iron determination and will.









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