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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The Pretender and its characters don’t belong to me. But since those who do own them won’t use them I’ll just borrow them for a while as we wait for the DVD release. (March 15th, 2005 in the U.S. – Pre-order is available. See TVShowsonDVD for details. )
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The Door of Memory
Part 10 – By Phenyx
12/10/04
“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. “
Susan B. Anthony
-
Jarod reached out and turned off the alarm clock five minutes before it would have done its duty. The leather of his jacket creaked as he folded his arms. Crouching on the floor this way wasn’t comfortable, but Jarod didn’t mind. His forearms rested on the edge of the mattress while his chin perched on top of his wrists.
He loved to watch her sleep. During the day, Parker worked so hard to keep her emotions in check. But at night, when consciousness slipped away, so did her control. The hard mask she presented to the world seemed to soften, allowing her vulnerability to surface. She dreamt troubled nightmares that frightened both her and her bedmate.
Parker’s cries had startled Jarod awake twice in the week since he’d come to Delaware. The first time, she hadn’t woken at all. Parker had thrashed about in the bed as if battling for her life. Tears had streamed down her face while she whimpered in fear. Jarod could only hold her close, stroking her hair, until her crying stopped. She had eased back into a restful slumber without realizing that anything had happened.
The next time, Parker’s nightmare had been much different. Without warning, she had been sitting straight up in bed screaming. Jarod had reacted instinctively, bolting from the bed and into a defensive posture. The terrified screeching had only lasted for a few moments, yet it had been enough to scare the hell out of Jarod. His surge of adrenaline combined with her embarrassment had been enough to keep them both awake for the rest of the night.
Not that Jarod was the only one offering comfort in the darkness. He had never been able to sleep well, unless ill or sedated. The dreams he had suffered for as long as he could remember, continued. The difference was that now when he snapped into wakefulness, Parker was there. More often than not, Jarod would jerk himself awake only to snuggle against the warm softness beside him and drift off again. Other times, Jarod would wake and find Parker looking down at him through the dark.
“You okay?” she would ask.
Jarod would nod in response. At times like these, Parker would hold him, pressing her body close to his. Then they would make love as if the act itself was a talisman against bad dreams.
Jarod fought an urge to strip out of his clothes and crawl back into bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead of submitting to temptation, he leaned forward and captured Parker’s lips with his own. He kissed her awake with a soft yet demanding confidence.
“Good morning,” Jarod murmured against Parker’s mouth.
“Not yet,” Parker said. “But I’m sure you could make it into one.”
Jarod smiled. “As appealing as that offer is, my dear,” he replied. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll miss my flight.”
The twinkle in Parker’s eyes vanished. “You’re leaving.”
Clasping her face between his hands, Jarod said sternly “I will be back before you wake up tomorrow morning, I promise.”
“You don’t have to come back,” she told him.
“Yes, I do.”
“Jarod,” Parker sighed. Throwing off the blankets, she rose from the bed and stood so that the piece of furniture between them. “I know it was your folks on the phone last night. I know how much they miss you.”
“Parker,” Jarod said. “I left a week ago without saying a word. Now I just want to go home and get my things, smooth things over with my mom. I’ll be gone for less than a day.”
Parker smiled sadly, her lower lip trembling as she did so. She hissed a deep breath and Jarod knew that she was achingly close to tears. He crossed the room and took her by the elbows.
“Parker.” He gave her a tender squeeze. “I’m coming back.”
She shook her head. “You called it ‘home’,” she whispered. “That place is your home. They are your family. I won’t let you give up the things you’ve fought so long to find.”
Jarod pulled her close. Tucking Parker’s head beneath his chin, Jarod closed his eyes and again cursed the fate that had hurt this woman so much. “I’m not giving up anything,” he said. “I never give up. It’s the tenacity that got me this far.”
“Stubborn, thickheaded fool,” Parker groaned into his shirt.
“Perhaps so,” Jarod chuckled. “But it means I’m not giving up on my family. And I’m not giving up on you.” He pulled back so that he could look into her eyes. “Do you hear me? I won’t give up.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment, Jarod.” Parker stepped out of his arms and straightened. “But do you really think you can build a life in Delaware?”
“I can build a life anywhere. I have years of practice at it.”
Parker grabbed her robe from a nearby chair, angrily pulling it onto her body. She tightened the belt around her waist and glared at Jarod. “You don’t belong here,” she snapped. “Sure you could fit in, use your pretender skills to blend into the environment. But you would hate it one day. You don’t belong in my world, Jarod.”
“Like hell,” Jarod replied. “Your world and mine are the same place. Always has been. All those years, we each felt so alone and trapped. We were forced onto the path that our lives had taken with no control over where it took us. But we were always on the same path, not walking on the same side of the road perhaps, but it was the same road nonetheless.”
“Jarod,” Parker began.
“No,” he cut her off. “Whether you choose to admit it or not, we were there for each other. And we survived because of it.”
Parker turned, showing Jarod her back. Straightening to her full royal stature, she hissed, “Go home, lab rat. Go home.”
“I will,” Jarod nodded. “For one day. But I will be back in twenty-four hours. Because it doesn’t matter where or what I call home, my heart lives here with you. A big part of me never left Delaware.”
“I don’t know how to believe you, Jarod.”
“I know,” Jarod answered gently. “You don’t have to. Don’t trust the words, Parker. Believe in the actions.”
-
As Jarod rounded the last curve in the road, he eased the rented car to a stop. He opened the door and gazed down the hill at the farmhouse. It was a lovely view from this spot. In the past, Jarod had often stopped here to admire the first home he’d ever known.
It had startled him at first. The feeling of homecoming had been so foreign to Jarod that he had not recognized the warmth for what it was. Once he understood that peculiar lightness of his spirit, Jarod began to seek it out. This spot was the best for finding that welcoming sensation.
Propping his elbows on the roof of the car, Jarod smiled and waited for the emotion to strike. But it didn’t come. What came instead was an image of Parker’s face, her hard glare as cold as ice. With an odd sense of sentimentality, Jarod realized that he wasn’t glad to be home. He was too worried about Parker, preoccupied with returning to her side.
It would have been easier on them both if Jarod had simply brought Miss Parker with him. Or better yet, he could have delayed the trip all together. But Jarod knew that would have been the coward’s way out. Parker would never come to trust in their relationship if they never tried to test it. How could Parker learn that Jarod would always come back, if he never left to begin with?
Giving up on his musings, Jarod got in the car and drove down to the house. He parked in back and entered through the kitchen door. His mother was standing at the stove.
“Hello, Dear,” she said. “You’re just in time for lunch.”
Jarod kissed her cheek and smiled. “I planned it that way,” he replied. “Have I ever told you that you are the best cook in the world?”
Margaret laughed. “Every man is biased when it comes to his mother’s culinary skills.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jarod said. He picked a morsel from the pot and popped it into his mouth. “But homemade is better than a box in the microwave any day of the week.”
“I take it that Miss Parker doesn’t spend much time in the kitchen,” the older woman drawled.
“God no,” Jarod laughed. “She isn’t exactly the cookie-baking type. I doubt the word domestic is even in her vocabulary.”
Jarod’s mother handed him a stack of plates from the cupboard. He understood the unspoken command and began to set the table.
“I thought you were looking for a more traditional home life Jarod,” his mother said. “You know, two kids, two cars, a white picket fence and a dog.”
Jarod shrugged. “I’ve never led a traditional life, Mom. I wouldn’t know what one felt like. Besides,” he continued. “I’d rather be unconventional and whole than be normal and incomplete.”
Margaret dried her hands on a dishtowel before responding. “You know,” she said slowly. “That sounds very similar to what your sister said about this.”
“Really?” Jarod slid onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs.
Margaret nodded. “She said that with Miss Parker in our lives, we might have the chance to learn more about you. More than just the bits and pieces you tend to reveal.”
Jarod stared at his mother with fearful eyes. “There are things you don’t want to know, Mom.”
Crossing the room, Margaret placed one hand against her son’s cheek. “There is nothing that could change the way I feel,” she assured him.
Standing abruptly, Jarod spun away. His body language and hard glare were as stern and cold as a glacier. “People are dead because of me,” he snapped. His voice held a sharp and cutting edge. “I can put a bullet between a man’s eyes from a hundred yards with no trouble at all. And I have put that skill to use. Is that what you wanted to know, Mom?”
“You sound just like her,” Margaret whispered. “You sound just as cold and bitter as Miss Parker.”
Jarod scoffed. “Wonderful defense mechanism they taught us,” he bit. “Go on the attack before someone else beats you to it.”
“No one is trying to hurt you, Jarod,” Margaret said.
“That’s just it,” Jarod replied. The anger vanished, leaving him deflated and sad. “No one has to hurt us, the pain is already there. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it and it just boils to the surface.”
Wrapping her arms around her son, Margaret pulled Jarod into a warm hug. “Let us love you enough to ease the hurt, Honey. Let us make it better.”
“Oh Mom,” Jarod smiled tearfully. “You already have. I am far more secure in who I am today than I was two years ago. We can never erase the past, but I am learning to look toward the future. You and Dad have done that for me.” Jarod paused for a moment then added, “I want to teach her what you’ve taught me. I want to love her enough to make it better.”
“Does she make you happy?” Margaret asked.
Jarod took a deep breath. “When she cries, I feel like my heart is breaking,” he admitted. “And she is sad so much of the time. But when she smiles,” Jarod’s eyes brightened at the thought. “It is a sight to behold. When she laughs, really laughs, I feel as though I’ve been given a precious gift, a gift no one else can appreciate the way I do.”
“Promise me one thing,” Margaret said, waggling her finger in Jarod’s face. “You bring her here for the holidays.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jarod nodded.
“All the holidays, Buster.”
“Yes ma’am,” he repeated.
“That includes President’s Day and Flag Day,” Jarod’s mother said with a smile.
Jarod laughed. “I reserve the right to spend Valentine’s Day with the two of us in seclusion,” he said. “But all the others are yours Mom.”
“Even Secretary’s Day?” Margaret asked with a playful poke to her son’s ribs.
“Anything with a corresponding Hallmark card,” Jarod vowed.
“Good,” Margaret said. “Tell her she can bring her family along if you feel that will help.”
“I don’t think so,” Jarod replied. “Lyle is the only family she has left. In all honesty, I’d rather stick a needle in my eye than have him within a hundred miles of this place. We don’t exactly get along.”
Jarod’s mother cocked an eyebrow at him. “As I recall,” she began. “You said the same thing about Miss Parker not so long ago.”
“Trust me,” Jarod cringed. “The relationship between Lyle and me is far less complicated than the one I have with his sister. Catch me in a really foul and sadistic mood someday and I might be persuaded to tell you about it.”
“He can’t he been all that bad,” Margaret said.
“Yea,” Jarod replied. “He can.” His mother didn’t know that Lyle had been responsible for the death of her other missing son. Jarod wasn’t about to enlighten her to the fact either. His relationship with Parker was going to be difficult as it was. The identity of Kyle’s killer would not help matters.
Jarod’s mother conveniently changed the subject. “Call your father so that we can eat before this stew gets cold,” she said.
“Mmm.” Jarod licked his lips. “I adore your beef stew. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
Margaret smiled. “I thought you said Miss Parker doesn’t cook.”
“She doesn’t,” he replied. “But I do.”
“It won’t be the same without a woman’s touch,” Jarod’s mother teased.
“I’ll fake it,” Jarod grinned. “After all, the world’s greatest chefs are men.”
“Chauvinist.”
“Realist,” Jarod came back.
Margaret pointed a wooden spoon at her son. “I’m going to sic your sister on you for that crack, young man,” she threatened.
“I’ll go find Dad,” Jarod said with a smile. He hurried out the back door in retreat.
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The Door of Memory
Part 10 – By Phenyx
12/10/04
“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. “
Susan B. Anthony
-
Jarod reached out and turned off the alarm clock five minutes before it would have done its duty. The leather of his jacket creaked as he folded his arms. Crouching on the floor this way wasn’t comfortable, but Jarod didn’t mind. His forearms rested on the edge of the mattress while his chin perched on top of his wrists.
He loved to watch her sleep. During the day, Parker worked so hard to keep her emotions in check. But at night, when consciousness slipped away, so did her control. The hard mask she presented to the world seemed to soften, allowing her vulnerability to surface. She dreamt troubled nightmares that frightened both her and her bedmate.
Parker’s cries had startled Jarod awake twice in the week since he’d come to Delaware. The first time, she hadn’t woken at all. Parker had thrashed about in the bed as if battling for her life. Tears had streamed down her face while she whimpered in fear. Jarod could only hold her close, stroking her hair, until her crying stopped. She had eased back into a restful slumber without realizing that anything had happened.
The next time, Parker’s nightmare had been much different. Without warning, she had been sitting straight up in bed screaming. Jarod had reacted instinctively, bolting from the bed and into a defensive posture. The terrified screeching had only lasted for a few moments, yet it had been enough to scare the hell out of Jarod. His surge of adrenaline combined with her embarrassment had been enough to keep them both awake for the rest of the night.
Not that Jarod was the only one offering comfort in the darkness. He had never been able to sleep well, unless ill or sedated. The dreams he had suffered for as long as he could remember, continued. The difference was that now when he snapped into wakefulness, Parker was there. More often than not, Jarod would jerk himself awake only to snuggle against the warm softness beside him and drift off again. Other times, Jarod would wake and find Parker looking down at him through the dark.
“You okay?” she would ask.
Jarod would nod in response. At times like these, Parker would hold him, pressing her body close to his. Then they would make love as if the act itself was a talisman against bad dreams.
Jarod fought an urge to strip out of his clothes and crawl back into bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead of submitting to temptation, he leaned forward and captured Parker’s lips with his own. He kissed her awake with a soft yet demanding confidence.
“Good morning,” Jarod murmured against Parker’s mouth.
“Not yet,” Parker said. “But I’m sure you could make it into one.”
Jarod smiled. “As appealing as that offer is, my dear,” he replied. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll miss my flight.”
The twinkle in Parker’s eyes vanished. “You’re leaving.”
Clasping her face between his hands, Jarod said sternly “I will be back before you wake up tomorrow morning, I promise.”
“You don’t have to come back,” she told him.
“Yes, I do.”
“Jarod,” Parker sighed. Throwing off the blankets, she rose from the bed and stood so that the piece of furniture between them. “I know it was your folks on the phone last night. I know how much they miss you.”
“Parker,” Jarod said. “I left a week ago without saying a word. Now I just want to go home and get my things, smooth things over with my mom. I’ll be gone for less than a day.”
Parker smiled sadly, her lower lip trembling as she did so. She hissed a deep breath and Jarod knew that she was achingly close to tears. He crossed the room and took her by the elbows.
“Parker.” He gave her a tender squeeze. “I’m coming back.”
She shook her head. “You called it ‘home’,” she whispered. “That place is your home. They are your family. I won’t let you give up the things you’ve fought so long to find.”
Jarod pulled her close. Tucking Parker’s head beneath his chin, Jarod closed his eyes and again cursed the fate that had hurt this woman so much. “I’m not giving up anything,” he said. “I never give up. It’s the tenacity that got me this far.”
“Stubborn, thickheaded fool,” Parker groaned into his shirt.
“Perhaps so,” Jarod chuckled. “But it means I’m not giving up on my family. And I’m not giving up on you.” He pulled back so that he could look into her eyes. “Do you hear me? I won’t give up.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment, Jarod.” Parker stepped out of his arms and straightened. “But do you really think you can build a life in Delaware?”
“I can build a life anywhere. I have years of practice at it.”
Parker grabbed her robe from a nearby chair, angrily pulling it onto her body. She tightened the belt around her waist and glared at Jarod. “You don’t belong here,” she snapped. “Sure you could fit in, use your pretender skills to blend into the environment. But you would hate it one day. You don’t belong in my world, Jarod.”
“Like hell,” Jarod replied. “Your world and mine are the same place. Always has been. All those years, we each felt so alone and trapped. We were forced onto the path that our lives had taken with no control over where it took us. But we were always on the same path, not walking on the same side of the road perhaps, but it was the same road nonetheless.”
“Jarod,” Parker began.
“No,” he cut her off. “Whether you choose to admit it or not, we were there for each other. And we survived because of it.”
Parker turned, showing Jarod her back. Straightening to her full royal stature, she hissed, “Go home, lab rat. Go home.”
“I will,” Jarod nodded. “For one day. But I will be back in twenty-four hours. Because it doesn’t matter where or what I call home, my heart lives here with you. A big part of me never left Delaware.”
“I don’t know how to believe you, Jarod.”
“I know,” Jarod answered gently. “You don’t have to. Don’t trust the words, Parker. Believe in the actions.”
-
As Jarod rounded the last curve in the road, he eased the rented car to a stop. He opened the door and gazed down the hill at the farmhouse. It was a lovely view from this spot. In the past, Jarod had often stopped here to admire the first home he’d ever known.
It had startled him at first. The feeling of homecoming had been so foreign to Jarod that he had not recognized the warmth for what it was. Once he understood that peculiar lightness of his spirit, Jarod began to seek it out. This spot was the best for finding that welcoming sensation.
Propping his elbows on the roof of the car, Jarod smiled and waited for the emotion to strike. But it didn’t come. What came instead was an image of Parker’s face, her hard glare as cold as ice. With an odd sense of sentimentality, Jarod realized that he wasn’t glad to be home. He was too worried about Parker, preoccupied with returning to her side.
It would have been easier on them both if Jarod had simply brought Miss Parker with him. Or better yet, he could have delayed the trip all together. But Jarod knew that would have been the coward’s way out. Parker would never come to trust in their relationship if they never tried to test it. How could Parker learn that Jarod would always come back, if he never left to begin with?
Giving up on his musings, Jarod got in the car and drove down to the house. He parked in back and entered through the kitchen door. His mother was standing at the stove.
“Hello, Dear,” she said. “You’re just in time for lunch.”
Jarod kissed her cheek and smiled. “I planned it that way,” he replied. “Have I ever told you that you are the best cook in the world?”
Margaret laughed. “Every man is biased when it comes to his mother’s culinary skills.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jarod said. He picked a morsel from the pot and popped it into his mouth. “But homemade is better than a box in the microwave any day of the week.”
“I take it that Miss Parker doesn’t spend much time in the kitchen,” the older woman drawled.
“God no,” Jarod laughed. “She isn’t exactly the cookie-baking type. I doubt the word domestic is even in her vocabulary.”
Jarod’s mother handed him a stack of plates from the cupboard. He understood the unspoken command and began to set the table.
“I thought you were looking for a more traditional home life Jarod,” his mother said. “You know, two kids, two cars, a white picket fence and a dog.”
Jarod shrugged. “I’ve never led a traditional life, Mom. I wouldn’t know what one felt like. Besides,” he continued. “I’d rather be unconventional and whole than be normal and incomplete.”
Margaret dried her hands on a dishtowel before responding. “You know,” she said slowly. “That sounds very similar to what your sister said about this.”
“Really?” Jarod slid onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs.
Margaret nodded. “She said that with Miss Parker in our lives, we might have the chance to learn more about you. More than just the bits and pieces you tend to reveal.”
Jarod stared at his mother with fearful eyes. “There are things you don’t want to know, Mom.”
Crossing the room, Margaret placed one hand against her son’s cheek. “There is nothing that could change the way I feel,” she assured him.
Standing abruptly, Jarod spun away. His body language and hard glare were as stern and cold as a glacier. “People are dead because of me,” he snapped. His voice held a sharp and cutting edge. “I can put a bullet between a man’s eyes from a hundred yards with no trouble at all. And I have put that skill to use. Is that what you wanted to know, Mom?”
“You sound just like her,” Margaret whispered. “You sound just as cold and bitter as Miss Parker.”
Jarod scoffed. “Wonderful defense mechanism they taught us,” he bit. “Go on the attack before someone else beats you to it.”
“No one is trying to hurt you, Jarod,” Margaret said.
“That’s just it,” Jarod replied. The anger vanished, leaving him deflated and sad. “No one has to hurt us, the pain is already there. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it and it just boils to the surface.”
Wrapping her arms around her son, Margaret pulled Jarod into a warm hug. “Let us love you enough to ease the hurt, Honey. Let us make it better.”
“Oh Mom,” Jarod smiled tearfully. “You already have. I am far more secure in who I am today than I was two years ago. We can never erase the past, but I am learning to look toward the future. You and Dad have done that for me.” Jarod paused for a moment then added, “I want to teach her what you’ve taught me. I want to love her enough to make it better.”
“Does she make you happy?” Margaret asked.
Jarod took a deep breath. “When she cries, I feel like my heart is breaking,” he admitted. “And she is sad so much of the time. But when she smiles,” Jarod’s eyes brightened at the thought. “It is a sight to behold. When she laughs, really laughs, I feel as though I’ve been given a precious gift, a gift no one else can appreciate the way I do.”
“Promise me one thing,” Margaret said, waggling her finger in Jarod’s face. “You bring her here for the holidays.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jarod nodded.
“All the holidays, Buster.”
“Yes ma’am,” he repeated.
“That includes President’s Day and Flag Day,” Jarod’s mother said with a smile.
Jarod laughed. “I reserve the right to spend Valentine’s Day with the two of us in seclusion,” he said. “But all the others are yours Mom.”
“Even Secretary’s Day?” Margaret asked with a playful poke to her son’s ribs.
“Anything with a corresponding Hallmark card,” Jarod vowed.
“Good,” Margaret said. “Tell her she can bring her family along if you feel that will help.”
“I don’t think so,” Jarod replied. “Lyle is the only family she has left. In all honesty, I’d rather stick a needle in my eye than have him within a hundred miles of this place. We don’t exactly get along.”
Jarod’s mother cocked an eyebrow at him. “As I recall,” she began. “You said the same thing about Miss Parker not so long ago.”
“Trust me,” Jarod cringed. “The relationship between Lyle and me is far less complicated than the one I have with his sister. Catch me in a really foul and sadistic mood someday and I might be persuaded to tell you about it.”
“He can’t he been all that bad,” Margaret said.
“Yea,” Jarod replied. “He can.” His mother didn’t know that Lyle had been responsible for the death of her other missing son. Jarod wasn’t about to enlighten her to the fact either. His relationship with Parker was going to be difficult as it was. The identity of Kyle’s killer would not help matters.
Jarod’s mother conveniently changed the subject. “Call your father so that we can eat before this stew gets cold,” she said.
“Mmm.” Jarod licked his lips. “I adore your beef stew. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
Margaret smiled. “I thought you said Miss Parker doesn’t cook.”
“She doesn’t,” he replied. “But I do.”
“It won’t be the same without a woman’s touch,” Jarod’s mother teased.
“I’ll fake it,” Jarod grinned. “After all, the world’s greatest chefs are men.”
“Chauvinist.”
“Realist,” Jarod came back.
Margaret pointed a wooden spoon at her son. “I’m going to sic your sister on you for that crack, young man,” she threatened.
“I’ll go find Dad,” Jarod said with a smile. He hurried out the back door in retreat.
