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Chapter or Story
Truth and Consequences - by MMB
Chapter 19 - Almost There
Kevin was just coming down the stairs from showing Ikeda where he could take a shower and freshen up for the evening when the doorbell rang, and he sped up his descent in heading for the door. Chet, still technically on duty until Ikeda was back, stepped out of the living room, shook a finger at the young man to stay back and went to check who the caller was. "It's Mr. Tyler," he said and opened the door.
"Hi, Chet. Is Kevin around, by any chance?" Tyler knew better than to make any move to peek past the sweeper. This was Miss Parker's family residence after all.
"Tyler?" Kevin tapped on Chet's shoulder to get the big man to move aside. "What's up?"
Tyler's dark eyes had a strange expression in them. "Can we talk?" he asked, jerking his head toward the front yard. "Alone?"
"Why don't you two take it out back instead," Chet suggested instead with a quick shake of the head. He aimed a cautious eye up and down the street. After everything that had happened at this house lately, there was no way he was going to just let these two talk out here where everyone in the world could see or get at them.
Kevin shrugged and beckoned Tyler to come in and then led the way through the house and out the arcadia door of the kitchen. He pulled the glass door shut for privacy and turned. "What's going on?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Deb," Tyler said simply and then watched as Kevin's face sobered. "So you know what happened to her too?"
"Sydney explained it to me last night," Kevin admitted tightly. He looked into Tyler's face with total concentration. "What is there to talk about?"
"How we behave when she gets home, for one thing. Look, we both like her - but we can't just..." Tyler's words ground to a halt when he couldn't think of an easy way to broach the subject. He took a deep breath and tried again. "She's not going to need us trying to compete for her attention. Not even subtlely."
The young Pretender nodded. Tyler had a point - if Deb's emotional state was as damaged as Sydney suggested it might be, having the two of them squaring off against each other in order to lay claim to her might be about as counterproductive as possible. "What do you suggest we do, then?" He looked over his shoulder. "She's probably going to be living here until her Dad is released from the hospital - I'm not going to be able to avoid being with her."
"I know." Tyler's voice had a defeated tone to it. "I'm thinking that maybe we could extend our truce - maybe even work together to make her feel safe again, when or if she ever decides to trust either one of us at all. After a while, perhaps we can convince her to invite one of her girlfriends to go with us so that she isn't surrounded by just us guys..."
"That sounds reasonable."
Tyler breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm glad you agree with me. I just didn't want us to start acting like idiots again and make things harder for her." He put out his hand, and Kevin shook it firmly. "I suppose I'd better let you get back to what you were doing."
"Yeah." As hard as he was trying not to, Kevin was finding it very difficult not to genuinely like this young man who also had feelings for Deb Broots. Tyler had a worldly bearing about him that was fascinating, and an aura of self-assuredness that Kevin wished he could have too. "Thanks for coming by."
The two young men walked back into the house and toward the front door under Chet's watchful eye. "Miss Parker still coming back tomorrow?" Kevin asked blandly.
"Last I heard she was," Tyler replied, opening the front door. "I'm sure, considering tomorrow's Saturday, you'll hear about any changes to those plans before I do." He stepped over the threshold and raised his hand in a wave. "Talk to you later."
"Bye." Kevin watched Tyler walk back to his little coupe and fire up the powerful engine before roaring off down the road. What would it be like to have that much independence and freedom, he wondered to himself as he carefully closed the door? And considering all the hidden traps and pitfalls to freedom he'd experienced so far, would seeking that added degree of independence actually be worth the price?
If there was one lesson his short time in the "free" world had taught him, it was that his sequestered life had carefully sheltered him from most of the emotional battering that most people seemed to just take for granted. It had been a lonely existence, but that loneliness had seemed like a permanent, dull ache compared to the agonizing blows to the heartstrings that caring about others had brought him. Still, thinking about it, Kevin knew deep down that there was no way that he would ever willingly go back to the kind of life he'd led with Vernon, closed away from the world in that isolated house with so few interesting people to talk to.
No, he couldn't go back to that. He had a new mentor now - one that he had permission to call “Uncle” now - who wasn't afraid to show him that HE cared about him too. In fact, he had a family - unorthodox though it might be - which accepted him as a full member. Perhaps the day would come when he'd take the initiative and form some new friendships, and he knew that none of his “family” would lay a stick in his path without good reason. He was more than just an anonymous cog in the wheel of the mill that was the Centre now, and that meant a lot.
Kevin ambled toward the back of the house again. He stopped and watched Sydney, freshly liberated from his CPM machine, wield his crutches to slowly move into the kitchen in search of something in the refrigerator. It was good to see the older psychiatrist up and moving again, albeit very slowly and carefully. "Can I help?" he asked, walking over to his mentor when that one hauled a casserole dish out with one hand.
"Who was at the door?"
"Tyler." Kevin took the casserole so that Sydney could have the use of both hands on his crutches again. "We decided not to compete for Deb's attention when she gets home - to give her some time to settle down first."
Sydney nodded with a raised eyebrow. "That's both wise and decent of you both. Whose idea was it?"
"His."
Sydney nodded again. "That Tyler is an interesting young man - Parker was right to pull him out of the morgue and make him her assistant. When things finally DO get back to normal around here, and Broots is back in his saddle, that trio is going to be a very powerful influence on what the Centre becomes." He closed the fridge door and hobbled over to the table to sit down heavily and then lean his crutches against the wall within reach.
Kevin slid the dish of leftovers into the microwave and set the timer. "I was just thinking it must be nice to be so independent that he can just climb into his car and GO when he wants to."
Again the eyebrow slipped up the forehead. "Am I hearing you say that you want to learn to drive?"
"Eventually." Kevin opened the fridge again and fished out the bagged salad left over from the night before and brought it and dressing to the table. "It's just..." He glanced at his mentor, not sure if the sentiment he was feeling would hurt the older man's feelings or not. "It's the idea of not having to ask permission to go somewhere, but just to GO..."
Sydney smiled sadly. "You haven't exactly had a lot of experience with that, have you? Not even since we got you out of that house. I can imagine that you would be starting to get a little restless."
"It's not that I don't appreciate everything you and everybody else has done for me..." Kevin began defensively.
Sydney held up a hand. "Whoa. I know better than most that that isn't the case. I also remember being a young man myself and chafing at being stuck and not able to just get up and GO when I wanted to. For you, considering your background, I'm surprised you haven't expressed this before now."
"You're not disappointed..."
"Of course not." Sydney's voice was warm. "Why should I be disappointed in such a normal developmental step? If anything, I'm pleased that you feel comfortable enough to state it so clearly, rather than just rebel and make everybody - including yourself - miserable in the process."
"Then..." Kevin brought three plates and silver for three to the table. "Can I?"
"To the extent that lies within the security concerns, of course you can. You don't need anybody's permission for that - least of all mine. BUT," Sydney raised a cautioning finger, "as the person most directly responsible for your welfare while you adjust to a more mainstreamed lifestyle, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know when you're going to take off for a while and approximately where you intend to go. If you could add a rough idea of how long you expect to be gone, that would be nice too. That way, if there is an emergency, we can find you quickly - but you could have a measure of the independence you want."
"So that means I can go without Chet or..." Kevin's smile was growing.
"When Miss Parker says it's OK for you to go without a bodyguard, yes. Until then," Sydney sighed, "we're ALL a little constrained in that respect. But in all fairness, you're not being asked to put up with anything that the rest of us aren't having to put up with ourselves."
Kevin slumped in his chair to wait for the microwave to finish its job. "I know. But I was hoping that I could just... you know..." He paused, collecting his thoughts and feelings to express them properly. "I can't remember a day when I wasn't more or less constantly being watched by SOMEone."
The older man nodded thoughtfully. "I can appreciate that. That's part of the reason I gave you that upstairs guestroom. It's a place that has no cameras, and you are more than welcome to go up there, close the door, and do whatever it is you feel like doing without having someone watch your every move." He gazed at Kevin evenly. "I've been thinking that you might want to have a television up there for your own use."
"I don't think so. Television programs are very strange," Kevin shook his head. "I find half of what I see ridiculous, and other half almost offensive. It confuses me. I think I'd rather spend the time learning from Ikeda or having you retrain me as a Pretender, if you want to know the truth."
"Your retraining with me is dependent upon our getting through that pile of boxes in the living room, remember?" Sydney reminded the young Pretender. Kevin sighed again as he rose at the summons of the microwave bell to bring their supper to the table. "But I can see no reason that you cannot learn from Mr. Ikeda during evening hours sometimes. Provided, of course, that Mr. Ikeda is amenable..."
"Green-san." Ikeda bowed his way through the kitchen at hearing his name mentioned. He felt much better now after a hot shower and wearing clean, unwrinkled clothes. "I have relieved Chet-san."
"All right. Please, sit down," Sydney waved at one of the empty chairs. "It isn't a big meal, but you're welcome to share."
Ikeda blinked at the sight of the third plate already set at the table. This was hospitality beyond what he had a right to expect. "Green-san, you're very kind, but..."
"You haven't eaten since you got here, so you know you're hungry - and I do too. Around here, it's considered impolite to eat in front of someone, knowing them to be hungry too. So, please." Sydney looked at his Japanese guest evenly.
"I appreciate your generosity," Ikeda bowed again and moved to take his seat in one of the empty chairs. How often he or his Yakuza brothers had disparaged the apparent incivility of any non-Japanese culture. How ignorant he'd been!
~~~~~~~~
Claire Jackson walked through the hospital corridors toward the nurse's station and gave the tall brunette obviously waiting there a critical eye. The woman's very posture was one of supreme self-confidence and authority, and yet the grey eyes that turned and then watched her come closer were filled with concern. "Ms. Jackson?" she asked in a soft contralto.
"Yes. And you are..."
"Mi... Melissa Parker. Deb is the daughter of one of my best friends - and he's in the hospital himself at home, or he'd be here talking to you instead. I've known Deb since she was a young girl, and we're very close." Miss Parker allowed Claire to steer her to one of the many small waiting rooms and took a seat. "So, how is she?"
Well, Claire thought quickly, the woman was at least direct. "Physically, Dr. Ramsey..."
"Hold it," Miss Parker put up a restraining hand. "I've spoken to Dr. Ramsey. I've also spoken to Deb." She crossed her legs and leaned back. "Now I want to speak to you. I know you had another appointment with Deb earlier today - and it went better than yesterday's. So tell me - how is Deb doing emotionally?"
Deb's friend apparently was not only direct but refused to be sandbagged. Claire was impressed. "She's improved to the point that she didn't have hysterics today," she offered as an opener. "But she was still far less than cooperative. She's feeling pretty threatened by what happened to her and is frankly trying to repress it."
"She's displaying evidence of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, then?"
Claire shot the Parker woman an even sharper look. "Why would you think that?"
Miss Parker gave a deep sigh. "Look, Ms. Jackson, I've lived my entire life surrounded by shrinks, my foster father is a ground-breaking psychiatrist, my fiancé is a child psychiatrist and frankly I'm not stupid either. I've got a horrific case of jet lag, and will be back in the air this evening again. So please, don't patronize me. I have neither the time nor the patience to put up with bullshit. I'm here to talk frankly and intelligently about Deb's emotional situation and the suggestion that she be transferred to a psychiatric facility, and I'd appreciate it if you'd just answer my damned questions."
When she had the time to think about it later, she was more understanding of the woman's frustration, but for the time being, she figured that the woman should have learned to be careful what she wished for. "There is clear evidence that Deb is suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress - she isn't sleeping well and has difficulty concentrating on simple directions. She's also refusing to cooperate with any of the therapy techniques that will help her put her experiences a little more into perspective. She refuses to discuss her experiences at all..."
"Yes, well, I'm hoping I gave her a little nudge to help her along on that one," Miss Parker added finally. "The one thing she said she wants most is to be allowed to go home. I reminded her that before she could leave, she'd have to tell the police everything..."
"She needs to tell that story within a therapeutic setting," Claire protested. "Otherwise the story could do damage in the telling."
"Then I suggest that you make whatever arrangements with the police you can, because I got her to agree to talk to the police by promising her that I'd be there when she did. If you need to make her giving her statement into a more therapeutic situation, that's fine by me. But as to the need to commit her..."
"If she begins to be more cooperative, that need will obviously fade," Claire told her firmly. "The suggestion to commit came after that bout of hysteria that required sedation to resolve. If the tendency to hysterics had persisted into today, I'd be making that recommendation to you myself. But as it is, a little cooperation from her on her reactions and responses to certain things - like Dr. Ramsey himself - should make such a move completely unnecessary."
One carefully defined eyebrow arched in surprise. "She has a problem with Dr. Ramsey?"
Claire nodded. "It's not unusual for rape victims to have trouble relating to the males around her for a while. Deb shows the normal reluctance to be around men, but Dr. Ramsey she seems to have chosen as a target for all the anger she's otherwise bottling up inside." Claire gazed earnestly at Miss Parker. "He's such a caring and good doctor, trying to be gentle and kind and careful with her. She needs to see what she's doing."
Miss Parker nodded thoughtfully. "I'll be seeing her once more before I leave this evening - I'll have a talk with her. Maybe she'll listen to me."
"Perhaps it might take hearing some of this from someone she trusts implicitly," Claire admitted. "I'd appreciate all the help you could give us - our only concern is to help Deb cope and come out of this experience as whole as she can."
"I'll do what I can then," Miss Parker continued to nod. "I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me, Ms. Jackson - and I'm sorry for barking..."
Claire was immediately shaking her head. "No, that's OK. You'd be surprised at the many different kinds of responses loved ones have to an assault or rape - I've learned to be very careful as to whom I talk to as frankly as you seemed to want. It's rather a relief to talk to someone who knows what Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome is."
Miss Parker pulled a business card out of her small purse and wrote her cell phone number on the back. "You can reach me anytime at this number. I told Deb that when she was ready to be released, I'd come back for her myself. If you feel she's almost ready for release, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know."
Claire rose and took the card. "That I can do. It was good to meet you, Ms. Parker. It's good to know Deb has caring people waiting for her to come home."
~~~~~~~~
Duncan heard the metallic clank of the cell door close behind him like a death-knell, and he sat down heavily on the thin mattress laid over the cement platform. True to her word, Miss Parker had had Sam deliver him still bound in duct tape to the LA Police, who had thanked him very sincerely before whisking the prisoner off into the booking process. He really did hate these orange-pink jumpsuits - the only ones he could wear were always either too large or too small and itched around the neck.
Still, orange-pink jumpsuits were far more tolerable than black hoods and duct tape on mouth and hands, and at least he could get up and use the toilet if he needed to. He could see - not that there was much to see in his five by twelve cell. He had a thin mattress, a table and chair, a toilet, a sink, and knowing looks from the officers who had booked him that told him that, as Miss Parker had foretold, his fate was virtually sealed. Flores wasn't here to call the Centre attorneys to bail him out again - according to the FBI agent that had been part of the team interviewing him after his booking, Flores was sitting in a similar situation back in Delaware awaiting arraignment on conspiracy charges. Berringer was also housed in a Dover cell, although the charges against him were minor compared to the capital charges being contemplated against Flores and himself.
And somewhere, in another hole in the wall like this one, was Jesús Cordoba. The money had been confiscated and was being held as evidence. And if Sam Atlee, Miss Parker's pit bull Security Chief was successful in tearing the LA office apart for all the documents Flores kept conveniently hidden and out of the system, the charges against HIM would read like a primer in criminal law.
He had no information to bargain with for his life - and with Miss Parker's threat still echoing in the back of his mind, he really wasn't sure that he wanted to bargain for his life. He shuddered once more at the memory of her threat, as he had shuddered several times since she'd sat so calmly across a table from him and painted a picture that had chilled him to the bone.
From the sounds of things, the Los Angeles authorities and the Federal Prosecutor would be haggling to decide who had the right to sentence him to death first. Duncan hung his head and let his hands droop uselessly between his knees. His world had collapsed utterly - and the time had come for him to pay the price for his actions. His eyes finally raised and began to study the toilet and sink assembly carefully. The only piece of independence he had was to choose the manner of his demise - and, by God, it was the one thing he intended to exercise. If it were the last thing he did, he thought with a grimace at the appropriateness of his gallows humor.
~~~~~~~~
Deb roused as a knock came on her door, and Miss Parker pushed a wheelchair with Davy through the door. "Davy!" the young woman cried hoarsely.
"Hey, Deb," Davy responded in a voice that was a little bit healthier, but not by much.
"I thought we'd stop by on our way out," Miss Parker explained, setting the brake on her son's wheelchair and then moving to sit on the bed next to the girl. She was pleased to note the lack of the IV unit as evidence of Deb's physical improvement. "I talked to Ms. Jackson today, Deb."
"Not now," Deb pleaded, her eyes on the boy. "Please?"
"I just want to pass along a suggestion from her for you to think about, regarding what you and I spoke of earlier," Miss Parker persisted, and took Deb's hand in hers. "Remember I told you that it was Dr. Ramsey and Ms. Jackson that you'd have to convince..."
"Yeah," Deb responded, not really wanting to go into the details in front of Davy.
Miss Parker wasn't pleased that Deb was trying to cut her off, but she persisted in a gentle tone nonetheless. "If you could give Dr. Ramsey just a little benefit of the doubt, not be quite so short with him..." She gave the young woman an understanding look. "He knows what you're doing and why, but it isn't helping matters. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Deb sighed. "Yeah," she admitted. "I've been kinda rough on him."
"Yeah," Miss Parker repeated. "Anyway, now you know, right?" The clear, grey eyes peered into the crystal blue eyes of the young woman. "Right?"
"Got it." Deb agreed and turned to Davy. "So you're getting sprung, huh, you lucky camper?"
Davy nodded. "Mom says your cut made you really sick." He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry I suggested..."
"Forget it. Your legs weren't long enough to reach high enough to break the glass," she replied. "It had to be me."
"You gonna be OK?" Davy asked his friend softly.
Deb looked into the boy's grey eyes and saw deep understanding and sympathy. He knew what they'd been through better than anybody else did, and he was worried that she wasn't being released with him. "I will after a while, Davy. Your mom has even promised to come back when it's time to bring me home."
Davy looked up at his mother for confirmation, and she nodded at him. "That's right."
"Good." He leaned forward and extended his hand. "I told you we'd make it..."
"I know," Deb responded, tears building in her eyes. "You used that mind of yours just the way Grandpa Sydney taught you to, and you got us out of there. You saved my life, Davy. I'm never going to forget that."
Miss Parker's brows had knit together at the odd statement from Deb. "What do you mean, you used your mind the way Grandpa taught you to, Davy?"
Davy shrugged. "Grandpa and me have a game that we play sometimes - a mind game, he called it. It helped me figure out how to get us out of that house and find our way back to where someone could find us."
Sam glanced at Miss Parker, knowing exactly what she was thinking. HAD Sydney been quietly training Davy as a Pretender without telling her? Something told him that there was going to be a very serious discussion between foster-father and foster-daughter when the latter got home - a discussion he REALLY was glad he wouldn't anywhere close by to hear.
"Say goodbye to Deb for a while," Miss Parker told her son, shoving her concerns into a back corner of her mind. She could discuss this with Jarod later that evening, if nothing else.
"See ya," Davy shook Deb's hand and then let go to wave at her.
"Tell your Dad I said Hi," Deb returned. "And tell MY Dad the same thing, the next time you see him, Miss Parker."
"I will, sweetheart." Miss Parker leaned over the young woman and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You do what Dr. Ramsey and Ms. Jackson tell you, and then I'll be able to come back for you real soon. You hear?"
"I will." She nodded. Yes, the time had arrived that she needed to get herself under control. She wanted to go home, and control would be the only thing that would get her there fast.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Sam told her quietly from his place at the very back of the room. "Sleep well, Deb."
"Thanks, Sam. Goodnight."
Deb watched Sam take charge of the wheelchair and steer Davy from the room, and she waved again at Miss Parker before the tall brunette disappeared around the corner as well. The smile she had pasted onto her face quickly faded once she was alone once more, and a tear that she had very deliberately quashed back now slipped from the corner of her eye to begin its trek down next to her nose. It wasn't fair, she told herself in a now familiar refrain.
Why me?
~~~~~~~~
"Hello?"
"Hi there."
Jarod relaxed against his chair in his office, the cell phone held to one ear by a hand pressed into the leather by his head. "I was wondering when you'd be calling," he said with a smile. "Are you in the air yet?"
"Not quite," Miss Parker said, looking out her window at the bleak landscape around the airstrip. "We're just warming up - we should be up your way in about an hour." She smiled down at her son as the boy reached up for the telephone in her hand. "I have someone here who'd like to say hello to you." She handed the little apparatus to Davy.
"Hi, Daddy."
"Hey there! How are you feeling?" Jarod felt his heart give a thump at the sound of his son's voice - and the gravelly tone to it that spoke eloquently of his ordeal.
"I'm feeling much better now. Mom says we get to stay with you tonight?" Davy bubbled. It was such a relief to hear his father's voice again.
"You sure do. You get to see my house here in California - I'm right on the ocean, you know..."
"Is Grandma going to be there?" Davy asked in a slightly smaller voice. "I sure hope I get a chance to meet her..."
"She's the one making supper for us all tonight," Jarod announced. "And you'll get to meet your Uncle Ethan too." He gazed over at the closed door between his office and the receptionist's desk, where Ginger had been very content all day long. "And you'll meet someone else VERY special."
"Who's that?" Davy leaned against his mother and felt her arm go around his shoulder protectively.
"You'll see," Jarod said mysteriously. "And I'll see you in a little over an hour."
"I've missed you, Daddy."
That sent a tug to the heartstrings. "I've missed you too, son. I'm just so glad you're safe." It took a moment for Jarod to control his voice again. "Why don't you hand me back to your mom now."
"OK." Davy sighed. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, Davy. I'll see you in just a little bit."
Davy handed the phone back to his mother, who transferred it to her other hand so she could put her arm back around her son and hold him close to her. "I'm here," she told Jarod.
"Ethan will be meeting you at the airport," Jarod told her. "My mom is making supper for us here." He closed his eyes. The two women he loved most in the world were going to be in the same room together for the first time. "I want you to meet her, Missy."
"Are you sure she'll be OK with my being there?" Miss Parker asked, feeling just a bit insecure. She most definitely wasn't on her home turf here, but rather in less than an hour would be in the sanctum of that “other” family.
"She's OK with it, Missy." He'd never known so much relief as he felt when he imparted that news to her. "She and I have had some rough times since I came back, but I think we're starting to put everything right between us now. It took a while for her to really understand that if she wanted me to make a choice, it wouldn't BE a choice for me. I'd choose you. I think she's ready to try to build bridges."
She leaned back in her comfortable seat and closed her eyes. "You mean that - that you would choose..."
"You have any doubts?" Jarod asked her in a low and thrumming voice. "It's a good thing you're spending the night - looks like I have a little reassuring to do. I've missed having you beside me."
"What about the little girl?"
"Ginger? What about her?"
"What have you told her?"
Jarod smiled. "I told her that a very pretty lady would be coming to stay tonight that might become her mommy - and that she'd like you very much. I think you'll like her a lot too, Missy. She reminds me of you..."
The pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker. "We're ready to take off whenever you're ready, Miss Parker."
"I have to hang up now, Jarod. The pilot said we're ready to go." She tightened Davy's seatbelt, and then her own.
"I'll see you in just a little while," Jarod promised.
"I love you," she said softly.
"I love you too. With all my heart." Jarod's eyes closed again so that he could put her face first and foremost in his mind. "I'll be waiting."
"Bye, Jarod. See you soon."
~~~~~~~~
Margaret put the collected silverware on the dining table and walked swiftly back into the kitchen to pick up the telephone receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi, Mom," Jarod tucked the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he held out Ginger's sweater to help her get bundled up before going out into the evening air. "I'm just about on my way home. Anything else you need from the store before I get there?"
Margaret shook her head. "No, I think I have everything pretty well covered from here." She looked around Jarod's kitchen and sniffed appreciatively at the scents emanating from the oven and stove top. "Just get yourself home. Is Ethan picking them up?"
"Yeah," he smiled as Ginger put up her hands to be lifted and he sat down in his chair and let her climb up into his lap instead. "I thought it would be nice for them to have a little time just by themselves. This is such a short visit..."
"How's my little granddaughter today?"
Now he chuckled. "She kept herself nicely occupied between what Cindy had for her to do and her coloring books. I think I have a budding artist on my hands."
Margaret chuckled back. "Children always are budding artists at that age, Jarod."
"See you in a bit."
"OK," Margaret moved toward the stove and lifted the lid on a pot. "Drive carefully."
Jarod hung up the receiver and then caught Ginger under the arms to lift her as he rose. "Let's go home and see what Grandma Maggie has made for us to eat, shall we?" Little arms found their customary handle around his neck, and dark eyes danced as the head nodded.
"I'm off to the airport," Ethan announced, sticking his head through the door.
"OK. I'll see you at the house," Jarod replied bending over to retrieve his briefcase and Ginger's little backpack with her toys and supplies. "Are you ready?" he asked the little girl. She nodded again and then snuggled down against his shoulder.
"Goodnight, Doctor Jarod, Ginger," Cindy called as the tall psychiatrist walked past her reception desk, where she was standing pulling on her own sweater. "Have a good weekend."
"Oh, I think we'll be doing better than that," Jarod responded with a happy smile. "My fiancé and son are in town tonight. Ethan's gone to pick them up for me."
The receptionist's dark face registered her surprise. "You're engaged to be married, Doctor Jarod? AND have a son? How old?"
"Eight, going on nine soon." Jarod shook his head. "Remind me to tell you the story one of these days, will you? I forgot you didn't know - I'm sorry."
"You bet I'll remind you," Cindy nodded vigorously, setting her golden beads to swaying and clicking about her head. "You've been holding out on me, 'specially since you didn't have no little boy when you left us a few months back." Then she smiled widely at him. "But you enjoy your weekend with your lady and boy. Do they know about her?" she asked, nodding at Ginger.
"Missy does. I just told Davy that he'd get to meet someone special tonight."
"I want ALL the details Monday morning," Cindy demanded with an over-exaggerated tone, "Take pictures - I want to see this fiancé and son. AND come prepared to tell me that story you've been keeping back."
"Yes, ma'am," Jarod chuckled at her and then continued on his way out the door. "You have a good weekend too." He looked up into the late afternoon sky with a practiced eye. The weather was typical California summer weather all over the state - which meant that flying conditions would be optimal all the way from the high desert to Monterey. He smiled both inwardly and outwardly, and then hefted Ginger just a bit higher in his grasp. "C'mon, Sprite. Let's go home. Your new mommy will be here very soon - and a big brother for you too."
He wasn't surprised when his little girl just clung a little tighter. She was the reason he wasn't driving out to the airport himself, as much as he knew that giving Ethan and Missy a little time alone to re-establish their bond was a necessary and right thing to do as well. Ginger felt more secure in her new home, and it would be best for her to meet these all-important new people in a place where she felt most secure. He opened the back passenger door and swung her down into her car seat, depositing briefcase and backpack at her feet before buckling her in.
Ginger gazed up into the face of the one person she cared for most in the world. She couldn't help but notice how happy and excited he looked at the thought of these new people coming. But he kept calling one of them her “new mommy” - and that whole idea was frightening. Like the word “daddy” until he'd begun applying it to himself, “mommy” only meant pain. He wouldn't be bringing in someone new to hurt her, would he?
Jarod smoothed his little girl's hair as he noted the expression of wariness in her eyes. "It will be all right," he promised her. "I told you I'd never let anybody hurt you again, didn't I?" She gave him a teeny nod. "I meant it, Sprite. I love you - and these people will too. You'll see." He crouched down next to her. "I've loved this woman for a very long time, Sprite. She's beautiful, and she's a wonderful mother. You'll see that when you meet Davy, my boy. You're going to have the kind of big brother that will take very good care of you, I promise."
He smoothed his hand down her head again when he saw he hadn't convinced her to let go of her fear yet. "I know this is a lot of new people all at once. But I want you to know that when you get scared, I want you to come to me. I'll help you, OK? I would never let anyone hurt you - you know that."
That Ginger could agree to. He hadn't failed to be right there with protective arms to shield her from everything new so far, and cautiously she nodded agreement. She trusted him completely - and he would protect her from the “mommy.” He HAD to protect her - to keep the “mommy” away - she had nobody else.
"Good girl." Jarod rose, deposited a gentle kiss on his little girl's forehead and then closed her door and went to the driver's side.
~~~~~~~~
Ethan drove to the General Aviation gate of the airport and from there onto the tarmac, heading in the direction of the hangars. The sleek, black jet with the Centre logo painted on the tail was just pulling gently to a halt, and he pulled his sedan up to just off the left wing. He climbed from behind the wheel and then leaned against the roof of the car while he waited. Finally the hatch in the black fuselage cracked open, and a husky bodyguard - probably a sweeper, he thought to himself - lowered the steps and then disappeared back into the plane.
Then, at long last, Ethan saw a familiar figure in the hatchway, one that descended the steps carefully and then turned and extended a hand backwards to help a young boy come down the same steps. He waved at them and came around the end of the car as the pair approached.
She looked the same - and yet, so very different. The years had been kind to his half-sister, although there were silver threads among the dark tresses now and she had laugh lines at the edges of her eyes. Her very demeanor was softer, much more like their mother than she'd ever been in the short time he'd known her before Jarod had severed all ties. And her smile was a study in joy. "Ethan!"
He put out his arms, and his sister simply walked into his embrace. They hugged each other tightly. "It's so GOOD to see you again," he told her with a soft voice. "I just knew we'd see each other again someday."
"I've missed you," she replied in an equally soft voice. "God, I didn't realize how much until just now." Her half-brother still had his boyish good looks, but the look of confused desperation that had always been in the depths of his eyes was gone. Replacing it was a glimmer of humor and laughter. Like her, his hair now held a scattering of silver amid the dark brown. He was tanned and healthy-looking, just as Jarod was now, evidence that the life out here was agreeing with him.
He patted her back gently and then let her go so that he could take a look at the boy who stood to the side patiently. "And this, I take it, is Davy?"
"Uncle Ethan?"
"You're bigger than I thought you were," Ethan told him, bending and extending a hand to him in a very grown-up gesture. "And I'll be dipped if you aren't the spitting image of your mom." He gave the boy a closer look. "No, I see Jarod there too." He ruffled the boy's hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Davy answered in his still-gravelly voice. Uncle Ethan certainly did look a lot like both his mom and dad. "Glad to get out of the hospital."
"I'll bet." Ethan straightened. "Your chariot awaits."
Miss Parker turned and crooked a finger at the bodyguard in the plane, who had stayed discretely away from this little reunion. Now he came down the steps with a duffelbag, and Ethan popped the trunk so that it could be laid inside. "I'll give you a call in the morning to let you know what time we'll be leaving," she directed, taking charge of the duffelbag. "You and Jim take the night off, get a good room somewhere on the Centre's dime, and get a good night's sleep."
"Yes, Miss Parker. Thank you." The bodyguard left the three of them and climbed back into the jet.
"We're all yours for the evening," she told her brother with a grin.
"Not quite," he corrected her with a crooked smile that made hers widen even more. "But for a little while, at any rate."
"Get in, Davy," Miss Parker held the back door for her son, then climbed into the front passenger seat next to Ethan. "Let's see where your Daddy's been hiding himself for all these years."
~~~~~~~~
"Here you go," Jarod said, handing Ginger her backpack the moment they were through the garage door into the house. "Go take your things to your room for now, OK? Mom?" he called as the girl scampered to her room.
"In the kitchen, Jarod," was the reply from the other side of the house.
Jarod found himself following his nose past a dining table already set for six. "You've been busy," he commented as he leaned casually against the doorjamb and watched her put the lid back on one of the pots on the stove.
"I figured your guests would probably be hungry and want to eat when they got here," Margaret answered, walking over to claim a kiss on the cheek from her oldest son. "How soon will they be getting here?"
"Depends on traffic, I suppose," Jarod shrugged, then smiled as he felt Ginger press up against the back of his leg. "See who's here, Sprite? Grandma Maggie."
The dark eyes that peered up into Margaret's face were not half as frightened as they had been just the evening before, and Margaret smiled down at her newest grandchild. "Hi there," she greeted the girl in a carefully modulated soft voice, then bent towards her very slowly and carefully so as not to startle or frighten her. "Do I get a hug?"
Ginger glanced up at her guardian and saw him nod assurance to her. She sidled out from behind Jarod's leg and walked over with a little more certainty this time to the older woman who once more gathered her into an embrace that smelled of flowers and sweet soap.
Margaret sighed softly and kissed the little girl on the side of the head. "Such a nice hug," she cooed gently. "Did you have a good day with... a good day today?" The little head nodded against her. "That's good."
Jarod's ears caught the sound of another car pulling into the driveway. "They're here!" he announced excitedly and, seeing Ginger apparently contented with his mother, walked over to his front door and threw it open.
"Daddy!" Davy trotted a little stiffly down the sidewalk and straight into his father's arms.
"Davy!" Jarod murmured, pulling his son close and up into his embrace with eyes closed in relief. So much of the anxiety that had been in the back of his mind since that horrible call from Missy suddenly seemed to just drop away as he cherished the feel of his son in his arms.
Davy's arms tightened around his father's neck, and he laid his head on the broad shoulder. "I missed you so much," he said in a broken tone.
"I missed you too," Jarod told him, then opened his eyes to see Miss Parker walking down the walk towards them with a happy but slightly nervous smile on her face. He opened one arm and pulled her close too, sharing a gentle kiss of welcome that felt like a homecoming.
"God, Jarod," Miss Parker sighed and leaned heavily into him. His arm tightened around her possessively, and she put one arm around his waist and the other around their son in his arms. "I am SO glad to see you..."
Jarod breathed in deeply. He had his family together again, except for...
"Come in. There are a couple of people I want you both to meet," he grinned at them with a wink at Ethan, who was waiting discretely halfway down the sidewalk until the reunion and introductions were finished, and then turned them around and pulled them into the house.
"Oh, Jarod," Miss Parker breathed, catching her first glimpse of the comfortable openness of his home, "this is lovely." Her eye caught some movement to the left, and then she pulled in her breath in surprise. The woman's hair was now half-silver and half-red, but the blue of her eyes hadn't dimmed since the day Miss Parker had seen Jarod's mother on Carthis. "Oh, my God!"
"Hello, Miss Parker," Margaret said with a cautious smile. "Welcome to California."
Davy raised his head from his father's shoulder and looked at the pretty lady with the startling blue eyes when the voice sounded familiar. "Grandma?" he asked with a small voice. "Is that you?"
Margaret's fingers flew to her lips immediately. "You're Davy?" she asked, then stepped closer to her son so that she could put out a gentle hand to the boy's head. Except for the grey eyes and the slightly patrician nose, he was the image of his father. And to think that she'd resented his very existence up until not that long ago. "I think I'd know you anywhere," she said gently.
For once, Miss Parker didn't know what to say. What was there to say? This was the woman that Jarod had spent over five years searching high and low for and finally vanished completely to find - a woman that she had worked hard to keep him from ever meeting. She pressed herself just a little closer to Jarod and felt his arm tighten around her. She looked up into understanding chocolate eyes and found a little courage. "M...Mrs. Russell," she managed finally, "it's nice to meet you - under somewhat better circumstances this time."
Margaret looked into those beautiful grey eyes filled with Miss Parker's uncertainty of her welcome. "Mrs. Russell was Charles' mother, my dear," she said gently. "I'm Maggie." She smiled. "Your mother used to call me Mag-pie, because when we got together, we chattered like a couple of old birds."
"Daddy, was Grandma the special person you wanted us to meet?" Davy asked his father curiously. He had looked around and not seen anybody else in the house.
Jarod looked - Ginger was nowhere in sight. "Mom..." he began.
"She ran away to her room when she heard voices," Margaret said sadly, then looked back at Miss Parker to explain. "She's still not handling strangers well at all - and there have been a lot of them in her life over the last couple of days."
"Here," Jarod handed Davy over to his mother's arms, "let me go get her..."
"Who?" Davy wanted to know.
"Just wait, Davy," Ethan came up and ruffled his nephew's hair again.
Miss Parker looked from Jarod's retreating back to Margaret. The older woman took note of the expression in her face. "She's a darling child, honestly," she reassured Miss Parker quickly.
Jarod knocked softly on Ginger's door and then pushed it open. Ginger was on her bed, pushed back into a tight little knot against the wall, holding her teddy bear tightly to her chest as if the plush animal could protect her. "Hey, Sprite," he said softly and moved slowly into the room and over to her bed to sit down. "We talked about this before, remember?"
Ginger shook her head vehemently. Talking about it had been one thing. Now the “mommy” was here, and very tall and scary.
"Don't you want to meet your new mommy?" Jarod asked, puzzled.
Ginger shook her head hard again and turned eyes that had huge tears floating in them on her guardian. How could she make him understand that mommies only hurt people? It had been too long, and the words just wouldn't come to her. So she did the only other thing she could think of: she threw herself into Jarod's arms and cowered against him. He said he'd protect her...
He cradled the trembling little girl against him for a long moment, then hefted her more securely in his arms. "I promise you she's not here to hurt you," he said, rising. "I tell you what. I'll hold onto you so that you know that you're safe when you meet her. Will that be OK?"
The little girl just hid her face against Jarod's neck. He sighed. "C'mon, Sprite. Just give them a little try - for me?"
Ginger gave a little sigh. He really didn't understand - and he seemed determined to show her to the “mommy” whether she wanted to or not. Her tears spilled and her arms tightened just that much more around both Jarod and her teddy bear.
Jarod sighed too. He was missing something, something very important to understanding his new daughter's trauma, and he hated having to make this introduction almost against the girl's will - but there was no remedy. He walked out into the living room again and saw that Miss Parker and Davy had gone over to the picture windows with his mother to admire the spectacular view.
Davy was the one that saw Jarod's return and turned to look, then tugged at his mother's elbow to get her attention. "Who's that, Daddy?"
Miss Parker didn't miss how the child clung to Jarod as if her very life depended upon it. She was a small and thin child, almost painfully thin, with two long, dark braids that looked as if they'd seen some wear over the course of the day. "That's Ginger," she answered for Jarod, looking him deeply in the eyes and seeing that there would be no way she'd ever be able to convince him to give up this child. He had bonded to her as tightly as she had ever bonded with Davy prior to knowing him to be hers in fact as well as on paper. He was devoted to the girl. For good or ill, she was meeting her new daughter in much the way that Jarod had met his son, and it was time for her to show Jarod she understood. "Your Daddy - your father and I are going to be adopting her -she's going to be your little sister." Jarod's smile widened, with his relief clearly apparent.
"Really?" Davy could hardly believe his ears. He'd considered himself lucky when, after years of wishing for a Daddy like all the other kids, his own father had suddenly come back into his life. Now to have a little sister... He came even closer so he could peer up at her. "Can I see her? How old is she?"
"She's just seven - and she's a little shy," Jarod understated the obvious as he moved to a couch and sat down so that Ginger was somewhat at Davy's eye level. "You see, the people who were supposed to take care of her before she came to live with me didn't do a very good job. As a matter of fact, some of what they did to her was really bad - SO bad, in fact, that she stopped talking to people completely and is now very, VERY scared of strangers."
"But we won't hurt her," Davy protested.
"She doesn't know that," his father explained patiently, then looked up at Miss Parker, who was staring at the child in his lap. "I think Ethan and I are the first people she's ever known that haven't either been responsible for taking her to strange places and leaving her there with what turned out to be foster parents who should never have had the job or hurting her ourselves."
Davy sat down next to his father on the couch so that he could look into what little bit of the girl's face was visible. "Hey," he reached out a finger and touched her on the hand very gently. Dark and frightened eyes flew open at the touch. "I'm Davy. Don't be scared. I've always kinda wanted a little sister or brother to play with..." he admitted with a shy smile. "Deb's always been too old to play with me. Do you know that I have a tree house over at Grandpa Sydney's, where I have a place of my own way up high in a tree? Ever played in a tree house?"
Jarod felt Ginger relax just the tiniest bit while Davy was talking to her - until Parker came and sat down behind her son so that she too could see the girl better. At that point, the child whimpered and hid her face away from them both. "Jarod," Miss Parker spoke very quietly so as not to startle or frighten, "what's going on?"
"Shhhhh, Sprite, it's OK," he soothed her, holding her tightly and then looking at Miss Parker in defeat. "She was shy and clingy last night, when the whole crew was here - but nothing like this."
"Daddy, what's this?" Davy pointed to a circular scar - the only one that could be seen on the back of Ginger's neck above the collar of her tee shirt.
"Oh, my God!" Miss Parker breathed in horror. She had seen pictures of such scarring during her time in the university studying law - in a crime photo of a child who had been burned with cigarettes. "Who did that to her?" she demanded.
Margaret drew close and gasped as well. She hadn't noticed the scar before. Jarod had made reference to some of Ginger's unfortunate history the evening before. Suddenly that sordid tale had become all too real...
"Her parents," Jarod answered uneasily. "They were drug addicts, and she was just an impediment. That's a scar from a cigarette burn, Davy," he told his son simply. "One of many, I'm afraid."
"Her real mom and dad did THAT to her?" Davy was appalled.
Jarod blinked. That was it! He'd been so busy working at getting her used to the idea of having a family again - so involved in making her a part of HIS family - he'd forgotten entirely what her experiences with a real family had been like. No wonder she was terrified of Missy! She'd never known anything but pain and grief or complete apathy at the hands of a “mommy” - and here he was, setting her up with another one.
He cuddled her close to him and put his mouth near her ear. "Listen to me, Sprite. Not all mommies and daddies do things to their children that hurt them - although I know that yours did. But that's all over now. Most daddies take care of their little girls and make sure that nobody ever hurts them." He put a gentle finger under her chin so that he could look into those terror-struck eyes. "And most mommies spend their time hugging and teaching little girls how to comb their hair and cook. That's the kind of mommy and daddy we want to be for you, sweetheart. We only want to love you and take care of you so you can grow up to a beautiful young lady."
Ginger was listening, and listening carefully. He - she hadn't gotten to the point that she thought of him in any other terms - had never lied to her, had always been a safe haven for her, even during horrible days with the hate-talk mommy. And He'd promised to protect her. She finally got brave enough to shift her eyes so that she could peek at the dreaded “new mommy” he was trying to introduce her to. She was a pretty lady with eyes the color of a stormy sky and dark hair. And the look in the lady's eyes was gentle, much like the look in Grandma Maggie's - and she was starting to like Grandma Maggie. She gave nice hugs.
"Hello, Ginger," Miss Parker said finally, her gaze caught and held by dark eyes that looked so very much like Jarod's had a long, long time ago. Such fear and pain and betrayal and distrust to see in the eyes of one so young! What had Jarod asked her - what she would have done if she'd had the chance to undo the damage done to Angelo? Now she understood the basis of the question - and for the first time knew exactly what had driven her mother to try to rescue the children trapped at the Centre. This girl was very small for being a seven-year-old, but behind the terror was a sparkle that told her this was a very intelligent child. And she knew better than most that it would have taken a very strong personality to handle abuse of the kind she obviously had survived and still been functional at all. All this little girl needed was someone to love her and give her the security she needed. It was, after all, what she herself had needed for so long, and found not so many years ago when her relationship with Sydney had changed so dramatically.
Thinking of her foster father made her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile. "Wait until Sydney sees her, Jarod - he's going to just melt," she told Jarod in that soft and quiet voice, "She's absolutely beautiful - and actually looks a lot like you. He'll be a helpless marshmallow the moment she climbs into his lap - mark my words."
"What about you? Are you still so sure that you can't handle another child?" he asked her after dropping a kiss on Ginger's head. "Are you sure you don't have time to help mend a little girl's heart?"
Very slowly and carefully, she put out a hand until she could brush the child's cheeks with the backs of her fingers, her heart breaking as she felt Ginger flinch as if afraid of being hurt. "Shhhh, sweetheart, I would never hurt you," she soothed, trying to make her voice as comforting as possible. "I would have liked to have been consulted in the process," she grumbled finally very softly in answer to Jarod's questions, "but now that I see her..." The hand moved to stroke the dark hair, and she took some comfort that this time Ginger didn't quite flinch from the touch. "I guess that this is what was meant to be." She looked up at the man who owned her heart. "I guess I have a daughter, don't I?"
Jarod bent forward very carefully over Ginger, and Miss Parker bent forward over Davy's head, and they met in a gentle kiss with their children sheltered safely between them.
Margaret watched the little family with the obvious affection between Jarod and Miss Parker, and saw the same kind of relationship that Emily and Nathan had - that she'd had with Charles. Like it or not, her oldest son really did belong with his former huntress. The look of peace and contentedness on Jarod's face was unmistakable - especially now that he had all his family together for the first time.
She moved toward the kitchen, determined to get the supper into serving dishes and on the table now that everyone was here. All she had ever wanted was her son's happiness, and when he had brought home the news of his having found happiness in Delaware, she had selfishly tried to steal it from him with harsh words and recriminations. No wonder he had finally gotten to the point that he hadn't wanted to have her around.
"Hey, Mom," Ethan had followed her into the kitchen, drawn by the wistful expression on her face before she'd walked away. "You OK?" He walked up behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Mom?"
"I'll be OK," she reassured him. "I'm just realizing how foolish I was to think that I could keep Jarod here with me - how selfish I was to want to keep him to myself when he has his own family."
"It was a bad time for you," Ethan told her gently. "You'd just lost Dad, and we all knew you were afraid you were losing Jarod too." He glanced toward the living room. "But I think it's pretty obvious that you're not so much losing Jarod as gaining a new daughter and two pretty neat grandchildren."
"I know," she replied, "at least, I know that NOW. I just feel like I'm waking up from a very long and very bad dream."
Ethan turned his foster-mother away from the stove and put his arms around her to hold her close. "I'm glad," he said quietly, "because my sister could really use a mother figure, you know."
Margaret leaned against her foster son thoughtfully. She knew Catherine had died when her daughter was young - but she hadn't thought of the consequences of that in quite that way before.
~~~~~~~~
Margaret and Miss Parker worked side by side putting the extra food away and rinsing dishes, neither exactly sure what to say to the other. It had been Ethan, Jarod and Davy that had carried the dinner conversation forward with very little contribution from the females. Ginger had been convinced finally to sit in her own chair between Jarod and Ethan, but had crawled into her guardian's lap the moment the meal had concluded.
The silence between the women was an uncomfortable one - and Margaret decided that it would she to break the impasse. "I was wrong."
Miss Parker hesitated in handing her another rinsed plate. "Wrong about what?"
"I thought you were taking my son away from me - you'd chased him for so many years, and now you'd finally found a way to catch him..."
Miss Parker thought for a moment. "Did Jarod ever tell you what happened the first time I saw him after he came back to Delaware?"
Blue met grey. "No..."
"I decked him - knocked him flat on his ass."
Margaret's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding!"
"Uh-unh," Miss Parker shook her head. "Until he left for good, I never let myself know how much he meant to me. His leaving damned near killed me - literally and figuratively. He never even said goodbye." Even now, that still hurt.
Margaret caught her breath. The pain in that last statement was immense. "I didn't know."
"Nobody did," Miss Parker admitted. "And so when he came back, my first reaction was anger - how DARE he think he could just waltz back into my life after so many years! So I slugged him." She realized her hands had slowed in their task, and she shook herself and began rinsing with more purpose again. "Then we found out Davy really was OURS."
"Jarod said you didn't even know he was yours."
Miss Parker shook her head. "I thought he was my half-brother. It wasn't until after Jarod came back that Syd ran a DNA test, and Broots uncovered a DSA that we found out the truth. I'd adopted him myself years ago because I didn't want him growing up in the Centre." She turned and looked at Margaret. "I swear to you that I didn't know if I wanted Jarod back in my life. Besides, he was determined to come back here to California when we were through."
"But in the end he decided he wanted to stay with you," Margaret reminded her, taking the last plate and slipping it into the dishwasher.
"We fell in love all over again," Miss Parker exclaimed defensively, "and we found out we had a son together."
"But that's my point," Margaret said, setting the machine's controls to start and then drying her hands on a towel that she then handed over to her companion. "After all those years, it had never occurred to me that you actually did love my son - or that he could actually love you. I know how the Centre works - worked. Your having his son could have been a convenient ploy. And I'd just lost my husband and was feeling VERY vulnerable when Jarod suddenly announced he needed to see Sydney again. The idea that he WANTED to go back to Delaware at all..."
"I was sorry to hear about Major Charles," Miss Parker said quietly, drying her hands and hanging the towel where it belonged. "I owed him an apology for being stupid enough to believe that he killed my mother in the elevator. She didn't even die that day - it was all a ruse..."
"There have been too many ruses and rumors and misunderstandings over the years," Margaret told her. "That was one of the reasons I wanted to be here tonight - I wanted to see for myself if what Jarod said about you was true, and if it was, then I wanted to tell you that as long as you make my son happy, I'll be happy too."
"Really?" Miss Parker could hardly believe that the conflict she'd feared she'd face here in California had evaporated before it even got started.
Margaret turned to her, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled. "You're the daughter of my best friend, and the woman my son loves. I just hope you'll forgive me for my foolishness."
The two women carefully hugged, and the hug slowly grew into a warm and fond one.
~~~~~~~~
"Stay."
Miss Parker shifted against Jarod, moving her head from his chest to his shoulder so she could see his face in the dim light. "What?"
"Don't fly home tomorrow. Stay here one more day, please?"
"Jarod..." God, she was tempted! She had missed being in his arms, at his side, in the night.
"Tomorrow's Saturday - I don't have to work, and its about time we broke the habit of seven-day workweeks for you too," he pressed, his hand slowly stroking the soft skin of her back. "Besides, then you'd get a chance to meet some of the rest of my family here - and to let Ginger get to know you a little better. Stay?"
She rolled slightly so that she could run her fingers through the hair on his chest. "Are you trying to talk me into playing hooky?" she asked mischievously.
"Absolutely! Anything to keep you with me for a little while longer," he said, his voice deep and vibrant. "I've missed you so much..." His arms closed around her possessively, and she settled back against his chest again.
"I told Tyler..."
She felt him shrug beneath her head. "So... You can call him tomorrow and tell him you're taking an extra day, can't you?"
"Sydney..."
"Would be thrilled that I'd gotten you to take a break, and you know it! Face it, these last few days have been hard as hell on both of us. We DESERVE a little more time together than just one night, don't we?" He was quiet for a long moment, contented in running his hand up and down the velvety skin. "Any more objections?"
"No," she said softly. She really did want to stay, to have the chance to be with him for longer than just a few hours. "I'll call everybody in the morning and set it up." Her fingers swirled through the chest hair again. "I love you, you know..."
And then there were no more words, only rustling sheets and occasional sighs.
Chapter 19 - Almost There
Kevin was just coming down the stairs from showing Ikeda where he could take a shower and freshen up for the evening when the doorbell rang, and he sped up his descent in heading for the door. Chet, still technically on duty until Ikeda was back, stepped out of the living room, shook a finger at the young man to stay back and went to check who the caller was. "It's Mr. Tyler," he said and opened the door.
"Hi, Chet. Is Kevin around, by any chance?" Tyler knew better than to make any move to peek past the sweeper. This was Miss Parker's family residence after all.
"Tyler?" Kevin tapped on Chet's shoulder to get the big man to move aside. "What's up?"
Tyler's dark eyes had a strange expression in them. "Can we talk?" he asked, jerking his head toward the front yard. "Alone?"
"Why don't you two take it out back instead," Chet suggested instead with a quick shake of the head. He aimed a cautious eye up and down the street. After everything that had happened at this house lately, there was no way he was going to just let these two talk out here where everyone in the world could see or get at them.
Kevin shrugged and beckoned Tyler to come in and then led the way through the house and out the arcadia door of the kitchen. He pulled the glass door shut for privacy and turned. "What's going on?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Deb," Tyler said simply and then watched as Kevin's face sobered. "So you know what happened to her too?"
"Sydney explained it to me last night," Kevin admitted tightly. He looked into Tyler's face with total concentration. "What is there to talk about?"
"How we behave when she gets home, for one thing. Look, we both like her - but we can't just..." Tyler's words ground to a halt when he couldn't think of an easy way to broach the subject. He took a deep breath and tried again. "She's not going to need us trying to compete for her attention. Not even subtlely."
The young Pretender nodded. Tyler had a point - if Deb's emotional state was as damaged as Sydney suggested it might be, having the two of them squaring off against each other in order to lay claim to her might be about as counterproductive as possible. "What do you suggest we do, then?" He looked over his shoulder. "She's probably going to be living here until her Dad is released from the hospital - I'm not going to be able to avoid being with her."
"I know." Tyler's voice had a defeated tone to it. "I'm thinking that maybe we could extend our truce - maybe even work together to make her feel safe again, when or if she ever decides to trust either one of us at all. After a while, perhaps we can convince her to invite one of her girlfriends to go with us so that she isn't surrounded by just us guys..."
"That sounds reasonable."
Tyler breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm glad you agree with me. I just didn't want us to start acting like idiots again and make things harder for her." He put out his hand, and Kevin shook it firmly. "I suppose I'd better let you get back to what you were doing."
"Yeah." As hard as he was trying not to, Kevin was finding it very difficult not to genuinely like this young man who also had feelings for Deb Broots. Tyler had a worldly bearing about him that was fascinating, and an aura of self-assuredness that Kevin wished he could have too. "Thanks for coming by."
The two young men walked back into the house and toward the front door under Chet's watchful eye. "Miss Parker still coming back tomorrow?" Kevin asked blandly.
"Last I heard she was," Tyler replied, opening the front door. "I'm sure, considering tomorrow's Saturday, you'll hear about any changes to those plans before I do." He stepped over the threshold and raised his hand in a wave. "Talk to you later."
"Bye." Kevin watched Tyler walk back to his little coupe and fire up the powerful engine before roaring off down the road. What would it be like to have that much independence and freedom, he wondered to himself as he carefully closed the door? And considering all the hidden traps and pitfalls to freedom he'd experienced so far, would seeking that added degree of independence actually be worth the price?
If there was one lesson his short time in the "free" world had taught him, it was that his sequestered life had carefully sheltered him from most of the emotional battering that most people seemed to just take for granted. It had been a lonely existence, but that loneliness had seemed like a permanent, dull ache compared to the agonizing blows to the heartstrings that caring about others had brought him. Still, thinking about it, Kevin knew deep down that there was no way that he would ever willingly go back to the kind of life he'd led with Vernon, closed away from the world in that isolated house with so few interesting people to talk to.
No, he couldn't go back to that. He had a new mentor now - one that he had permission to call “Uncle” now - who wasn't afraid to show him that HE cared about him too. In fact, he had a family - unorthodox though it might be - which accepted him as a full member. Perhaps the day would come when he'd take the initiative and form some new friendships, and he knew that none of his “family” would lay a stick in his path without good reason. He was more than just an anonymous cog in the wheel of the mill that was the Centre now, and that meant a lot.
Kevin ambled toward the back of the house again. He stopped and watched Sydney, freshly liberated from his CPM machine, wield his crutches to slowly move into the kitchen in search of something in the refrigerator. It was good to see the older psychiatrist up and moving again, albeit very slowly and carefully. "Can I help?" he asked, walking over to his mentor when that one hauled a casserole dish out with one hand.
"Who was at the door?"
"Tyler." Kevin took the casserole so that Sydney could have the use of both hands on his crutches again. "We decided not to compete for Deb's attention when she gets home - to give her some time to settle down first."
Sydney nodded with a raised eyebrow. "That's both wise and decent of you both. Whose idea was it?"
"His."
Sydney nodded again. "That Tyler is an interesting young man - Parker was right to pull him out of the morgue and make him her assistant. When things finally DO get back to normal around here, and Broots is back in his saddle, that trio is going to be a very powerful influence on what the Centre becomes." He closed the fridge door and hobbled over to the table to sit down heavily and then lean his crutches against the wall within reach.
Kevin slid the dish of leftovers into the microwave and set the timer. "I was just thinking it must be nice to be so independent that he can just climb into his car and GO when he wants to."
Again the eyebrow slipped up the forehead. "Am I hearing you say that you want to learn to drive?"
"Eventually." Kevin opened the fridge again and fished out the bagged salad left over from the night before and brought it and dressing to the table. "It's just..." He glanced at his mentor, not sure if the sentiment he was feeling would hurt the older man's feelings or not. "It's the idea of not having to ask permission to go somewhere, but just to GO..."
Sydney smiled sadly. "You haven't exactly had a lot of experience with that, have you? Not even since we got you out of that house. I can imagine that you would be starting to get a little restless."
"It's not that I don't appreciate everything you and everybody else has done for me..." Kevin began defensively.
Sydney held up a hand. "Whoa. I know better than most that that isn't the case. I also remember being a young man myself and chafing at being stuck and not able to just get up and GO when I wanted to. For you, considering your background, I'm surprised you haven't expressed this before now."
"You're not disappointed..."
"Of course not." Sydney's voice was warm. "Why should I be disappointed in such a normal developmental step? If anything, I'm pleased that you feel comfortable enough to state it so clearly, rather than just rebel and make everybody - including yourself - miserable in the process."
"Then..." Kevin brought three plates and silver for three to the table. "Can I?"
"To the extent that lies within the security concerns, of course you can. You don't need anybody's permission for that - least of all mine. BUT," Sydney raised a cautioning finger, "as the person most directly responsible for your welfare while you adjust to a more mainstreamed lifestyle, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know when you're going to take off for a while and approximately where you intend to go. If you could add a rough idea of how long you expect to be gone, that would be nice too. That way, if there is an emergency, we can find you quickly - but you could have a measure of the independence you want."
"So that means I can go without Chet or..." Kevin's smile was growing.
"When Miss Parker says it's OK for you to go without a bodyguard, yes. Until then," Sydney sighed, "we're ALL a little constrained in that respect. But in all fairness, you're not being asked to put up with anything that the rest of us aren't having to put up with ourselves."
Kevin slumped in his chair to wait for the microwave to finish its job. "I know. But I was hoping that I could just... you know..." He paused, collecting his thoughts and feelings to express them properly. "I can't remember a day when I wasn't more or less constantly being watched by SOMEone."
The older man nodded thoughtfully. "I can appreciate that. That's part of the reason I gave you that upstairs guestroom. It's a place that has no cameras, and you are more than welcome to go up there, close the door, and do whatever it is you feel like doing without having someone watch your every move." He gazed at Kevin evenly. "I've been thinking that you might want to have a television up there for your own use."
"I don't think so. Television programs are very strange," Kevin shook his head. "I find half of what I see ridiculous, and other half almost offensive. It confuses me. I think I'd rather spend the time learning from Ikeda or having you retrain me as a Pretender, if you want to know the truth."
"Your retraining with me is dependent upon our getting through that pile of boxes in the living room, remember?" Sydney reminded the young Pretender. Kevin sighed again as he rose at the summons of the microwave bell to bring their supper to the table. "But I can see no reason that you cannot learn from Mr. Ikeda during evening hours sometimes. Provided, of course, that Mr. Ikeda is amenable..."
"Green-san." Ikeda bowed his way through the kitchen at hearing his name mentioned. He felt much better now after a hot shower and wearing clean, unwrinkled clothes. "I have relieved Chet-san."
"All right. Please, sit down," Sydney waved at one of the empty chairs. "It isn't a big meal, but you're welcome to share."
Ikeda blinked at the sight of the third plate already set at the table. This was hospitality beyond what he had a right to expect. "Green-san, you're very kind, but..."
"You haven't eaten since you got here, so you know you're hungry - and I do too. Around here, it's considered impolite to eat in front of someone, knowing them to be hungry too. So, please." Sydney looked at his Japanese guest evenly.
"I appreciate your generosity," Ikeda bowed again and moved to take his seat in one of the empty chairs. How often he or his Yakuza brothers had disparaged the apparent incivility of any non-Japanese culture. How ignorant he'd been!
~~~~~~~~
Claire Jackson walked through the hospital corridors toward the nurse's station and gave the tall brunette obviously waiting there a critical eye. The woman's very posture was one of supreme self-confidence and authority, and yet the grey eyes that turned and then watched her come closer were filled with concern. "Ms. Jackson?" she asked in a soft contralto.
"Yes. And you are..."
"Mi... Melissa Parker. Deb is the daughter of one of my best friends - and he's in the hospital himself at home, or he'd be here talking to you instead. I've known Deb since she was a young girl, and we're very close." Miss Parker allowed Claire to steer her to one of the many small waiting rooms and took a seat. "So, how is she?"
Well, Claire thought quickly, the woman was at least direct. "Physically, Dr. Ramsey..."
"Hold it," Miss Parker put up a restraining hand. "I've spoken to Dr. Ramsey. I've also spoken to Deb." She crossed her legs and leaned back. "Now I want to speak to you. I know you had another appointment with Deb earlier today - and it went better than yesterday's. So tell me - how is Deb doing emotionally?"
Deb's friend apparently was not only direct but refused to be sandbagged. Claire was impressed. "She's improved to the point that she didn't have hysterics today," she offered as an opener. "But she was still far less than cooperative. She's feeling pretty threatened by what happened to her and is frankly trying to repress it."
"She's displaying evidence of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, then?"
Claire shot the Parker woman an even sharper look. "Why would you think that?"
Miss Parker gave a deep sigh. "Look, Ms. Jackson, I've lived my entire life surrounded by shrinks, my foster father is a ground-breaking psychiatrist, my fiancé is a child psychiatrist and frankly I'm not stupid either. I've got a horrific case of jet lag, and will be back in the air this evening again. So please, don't patronize me. I have neither the time nor the patience to put up with bullshit. I'm here to talk frankly and intelligently about Deb's emotional situation and the suggestion that she be transferred to a psychiatric facility, and I'd appreciate it if you'd just answer my damned questions."
When she had the time to think about it later, she was more understanding of the woman's frustration, but for the time being, she figured that the woman should have learned to be careful what she wished for. "There is clear evidence that Deb is suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress - she isn't sleeping well and has difficulty concentrating on simple directions. She's also refusing to cooperate with any of the therapy techniques that will help her put her experiences a little more into perspective. She refuses to discuss her experiences at all..."
"Yes, well, I'm hoping I gave her a little nudge to help her along on that one," Miss Parker added finally. "The one thing she said she wants most is to be allowed to go home. I reminded her that before she could leave, she'd have to tell the police everything..."
"She needs to tell that story within a therapeutic setting," Claire protested. "Otherwise the story could do damage in the telling."
"Then I suggest that you make whatever arrangements with the police you can, because I got her to agree to talk to the police by promising her that I'd be there when she did. If you need to make her giving her statement into a more therapeutic situation, that's fine by me. But as to the need to commit her..."
"If she begins to be more cooperative, that need will obviously fade," Claire told her firmly. "The suggestion to commit came after that bout of hysteria that required sedation to resolve. If the tendency to hysterics had persisted into today, I'd be making that recommendation to you myself. But as it is, a little cooperation from her on her reactions and responses to certain things - like Dr. Ramsey himself - should make such a move completely unnecessary."
One carefully defined eyebrow arched in surprise. "She has a problem with Dr. Ramsey?"
Claire nodded. "It's not unusual for rape victims to have trouble relating to the males around her for a while. Deb shows the normal reluctance to be around men, but Dr. Ramsey she seems to have chosen as a target for all the anger she's otherwise bottling up inside." Claire gazed earnestly at Miss Parker. "He's such a caring and good doctor, trying to be gentle and kind and careful with her. She needs to see what she's doing."
Miss Parker nodded thoughtfully. "I'll be seeing her once more before I leave this evening - I'll have a talk with her. Maybe she'll listen to me."
"Perhaps it might take hearing some of this from someone she trusts implicitly," Claire admitted. "I'd appreciate all the help you could give us - our only concern is to help Deb cope and come out of this experience as whole as she can."
"I'll do what I can then," Miss Parker continued to nod. "I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me, Ms. Jackson - and I'm sorry for barking..."
Claire was immediately shaking her head. "No, that's OK. You'd be surprised at the many different kinds of responses loved ones have to an assault or rape - I've learned to be very careful as to whom I talk to as frankly as you seemed to want. It's rather a relief to talk to someone who knows what Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome is."
Miss Parker pulled a business card out of her small purse and wrote her cell phone number on the back. "You can reach me anytime at this number. I told Deb that when she was ready to be released, I'd come back for her myself. If you feel she's almost ready for release, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know."
Claire rose and took the card. "That I can do. It was good to meet you, Ms. Parker. It's good to know Deb has caring people waiting for her to come home."
~~~~~~~~
Duncan heard the metallic clank of the cell door close behind him like a death-knell, and he sat down heavily on the thin mattress laid over the cement platform. True to her word, Miss Parker had had Sam deliver him still bound in duct tape to the LA Police, who had thanked him very sincerely before whisking the prisoner off into the booking process. He really did hate these orange-pink jumpsuits - the only ones he could wear were always either too large or too small and itched around the neck.
Still, orange-pink jumpsuits were far more tolerable than black hoods and duct tape on mouth and hands, and at least he could get up and use the toilet if he needed to. He could see - not that there was much to see in his five by twelve cell. He had a thin mattress, a table and chair, a toilet, a sink, and knowing looks from the officers who had booked him that told him that, as Miss Parker had foretold, his fate was virtually sealed. Flores wasn't here to call the Centre attorneys to bail him out again - according to the FBI agent that had been part of the team interviewing him after his booking, Flores was sitting in a similar situation back in Delaware awaiting arraignment on conspiracy charges. Berringer was also housed in a Dover cell, although the charges against him were minor compared to the capital charges being contemplated against Flores and himself.
And somewhere, in another hole in the wall like this one, was Jesús Cordoba. The money had been confiscated and was being held as evidence. And if Sam Atlee, Miss Parker's pit bull Security Chief was successful in tearing the LA office apart for all the documents Flores kept conveniently hidden and out of the system, the charges against HIM would read like a primer in criminal law.
He had no information to bargain with for his life - and with Miss Parker's threat still echoing in the back of his mind, he really wasn't sure that he wanted to bargain for his life. He shuddered once more at the memory of her threat, as he had shuddered several times since she'd sat so calmly across a table from him and painted a picture that had chilled him to the bone.
From the sounds of things, the Los Angeles authorities and the Federal Prosecutor would be haggling to decide who had the right to sentence him to death first. Duncan hung his head and let his hands droop uselessly between his knees. His world had collapsed utterly - and the time had come for him to pay the price for his actions. His eyes finally raised and began to study the toilet and sink assembly carefully. The only piece of independence he had was to choose the manner of his demise - and, by God, it was the one thing he intended to exercise. If it were the last thing he did, he thought with a grimace at the appropriateness of his gallows humor.
~~~~~~~~
Deb roused as a knock came on her door, and Miss Parker pushed a wheelchair with Davy through the door. "Davy!" the young woman cried hoarsely.
"Hey, Deb," Davy responded in a voice that was a little bit healthier, but not by much.
"I thought we'd stop by on our way out," Miss Parker explained, setting the brake on her son's wheelchair and then moving to sit on the bed next to the girl. She was pleased to note the lack of the IV unit as evidence of Deb's physical improvement. "I talked to Ms. Jackson today, Deb."
"Not now," Deb pleaded, her eyes on the boy. "Please?"
"I just want to pass along a suggestion from her for you to think about, regarding what you and I spoke of earlier," Miss Parker persisted, and took Deb's hand in hers. "Remember I told you that it was Dr. Ramsey and Ms. Jackson that you'd have to convince..."
"Yeah," Deb responded, not really wanting to go into the details in front of Davy.
Miss Parker wasn't pleased that Deb was trying to cut her off, but she persisted in a gentle tone nonetheless. "If you could give Dr. Ramsey just a little benefit of the doubt, not be quite so short with him..." She gave the young woman an understanding look. "He knows what you're doing and why, but it isn't helping matters. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Deb sighed. "Yeah," she admitted. "I've been kinda rough on him."
"Yeah," Miss Parker repeated. "Anyway, now you know, right?" The clear, grey eyes peered into the crystal blue eyes of the young woman. "Right?"
"Got it." Deb agreed and turned to Davy. "So you're getting sprung, huh, you lucky camper?"
Davy nodded. "Mom says your cut made you really sick." He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry I suggested..."
"Forget it. Your legs weren't long enough to reach high enough to break the glass," she replied. "It had to be me."
"You gonna be OK?" Davy asked his friend softly.
Deb looked into the boy's grey eyes and saw deep understanding and sympathy. He knew what they'd been through better than anybody else did, and he was worried that she wasn't being released with him. "I will after a while, Davy. Your mom has even promised to come back when it's time to bring me home."
Davy looked up at his mother for confirmation, and she nodded at him. "That's right."
"Good." He leaned forward and extended his hand. "I told you we'd make it..."
"I know," Deb responded, tears building in her eyes. "You used that mind of yours just the way Grandpa Sydney taught you to, and you got us out of there. You saved my life, Davy. I'm never going to forget that."
Miss Parker's brows had knit together at the odd statement from Deb. "What do you mean, you used your mind the way Grandpa taught you to, Davy?"
Davy shrugged. "Grandpa and me have a game that we play sometimes - a mind game, he called it. It helped me figure out how to get us out of that house and find our way back to where someone could find us."
Sam glanced at Miss Parker, knowing exactly what she was thinking. HAD Sydney been quietly training Davy as a Pretender without telling her? Something told him that there was going to be a very serious discussion between foster-father and foster-daughter when the latter got home - a discussion he REALLY was glad he wouldn't anywhere close by to hear.
"Say goodbye to Deb for a while," Miss Parker told her son, shoving her concerns into a back corner of her mind. She could discuss this with Jarod later that evening, if nothing else.
"See ya," Davy shook Deb's hand and then let go to wave at her.
"Tell your Dad I said Hi," Deb returned. "And tell MY Dad the same thing, the next time you see him, Miss Parker."
"I will, sweetheart." Miss Parker leaned over the young woman and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You do what Dr. Ramsey and Ms. Jackson tell you, and then I'll be able to come back for you real soon. You hear?"
"I will." She nodded. Yes, the time had arrived that she needed to get herself under control. She wanted to go home, and control would be the only thing that would get her there fast.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Sam told her quietly from his place at the very back of the room. "Sleep well, Deb."
"Thanks, Sam. Goodnight."
Deb watched Sam take charge of the wheelchair and steer Davy from the room, and she waved again at Miss Parker before the tall brunette disappeared around the corner as well. The smile she had pasted onto her face quickly faded once she was alone once more, and a tear that she had very deliberately quashed back now slipped from the corner of her eye to begin its trek down next to her nose. It wasn't fair, she told herself in a now familiar refrain.
Why me?
~~~~~~~~
"Hello?"
"Hi there."
Jarod relaxed against his chair in his office, the cell phone held to one ear by a hand pressed into the leather by his head. "I was wondering when you'd be calling," he said with a smile. "Are you in the air yet?"
"Not quite," Miss Parker said, looking out her window at the bleak landscape around the airstrip. "We're just warming up - we should be up your way in about an hour." She smiled down at her son as the boy reached up for the telephone in her hand. "I have someone here who'd like to say hello to you." She handed the little apparatus to Davy.
"Hi, Daddy."
"Hey there! How are you feeling?" Jarod felt his heart give a thump at the sound of his son's voice - and the gravelly tone to it that spoke eloquently of his ordeal.
"I'm feeling much better now. Mom says we get to stay with you tonight?" Davy bubbled. It was such a relief to hear his father's voice again.
"You sure do. You get to see my house here in California - I'm right on the ocean, you know..."
"Is Grandma going to be there?" Davy asked in a slightly smaller voice. "I sure hope I get a chance to meet her..."
"She's the one making supper for us all tonight," Jarod announced. "And you'll get to meet your Uncle Ethan too." He gazed over at the closed door between his office and the receptionist's desk, where Ginger had been very content all day long. "And you'll meet someone else VERY special."
"Who's that?" Davy leaned against his mother and felt her arm go around his shoulder protectively.
"You'll see," Jarod said mysteriously. "And I'll see you in a little over an hour."
"I've missed you, Daddy."
That sent a tug to the heartstrings. "I've missed you too, son. I'm just so glad you're safe." It took a moment for Jarod to control his voice again. "Why don't you hand me back to your mom now."
"OK." Davy sighed. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, Davy. I'll see you in just a little bit."
Davy handed the phone back to his mother, who transferred it to her other hand so she could put her arm back around her son and hold him close to her. "I'm here," she told Jarod.
"Ethan will be meeting you at the airport," Jarod told her. "My mom is making supper for us here." He closed his eyes. The two women he loved most in the world were going to be in the same room together for the first time. "I want you to meet her, Missy."
"Are you sure she'll be OK with my being there?" Miss Parker asked, feeling just a bit insecure. She most definitely wasn't on her home turf here, but rather in less than an hour would be in the sanctum of that “other” family.
"She's OK with it, Missy." He'd never known so much relief as he felt when he imparted that news to her. "She and I have had some rough times since I came back, but I think we're starting to put everything right between us now. It took a while for her to really understand that if she wanted me to make a choice, it wouldn't BE a choice for me. I'd choose you. I think she's ready to try to build bridges."
She leaned back in her comfortable seat and closed her eyes. "You mean that - that you would choose..."
"You have any doubts?" Jarod asked her in a low and thrumming voice. "It's a good thing you're spending the night - looks like I have a little reassuring to do. I've missed having you beside me."
"What about the little girl?"
"Ginger? What about her?"
"What have you told her?"
Jarod smiled. "I told her that a very pretty lady would be coming to stay tonight that might become her mommy - and that she'd like you very much. I think you'll like her a lot too, Missy. She reminds me of you..."
The pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker. "We're ready to take off whenever you're ready, Miss Parker."
"I have to hang up now, Jarod. The pilot said we're ready to go." She tightened Davy's seatbelt, and then her own.
"I'll see you in just a little while," Jarod promised.
"I love you," she said softly.
"I love you too. With all my heart." Jarod's eyes closed again so that he could put her face first and foremost in his mind. "I'll be waiting."
"Bye, Jarod. See you soon."
~~~~~~~~
Margaret put the collected silverware on the dining table and walked swiftly back into the kitchen to pick up the telephone receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi, Mom," Jarod tucked the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he held out Ginger's sweater to help her get bundled up before going out into the evening air. "I'm just about on my way home. Anything else you need from the store before I get there?"
Margaret shook her head. "No, I think I have everything pretty well covered from here." She looked around Jarod's kitchen and sniffed appreciatively at the scents emanating from the oven and stove top. "Just get yourself home. Is Ethan picking them up?"
"Yeah," he smiled as Ginger put up her hands to be lifted and he sat down in his chair and let her climb up into his lap instead. "I thought it would be nice for them to have a little time just by themselves. This is such a short visit..."
"How's my little granddaughter today?"
Now he chuckled. "She kept herself nicely occupied between what Cindy had for her to do and her coloring books. I think I have a budding artist on my hands."
Margaret chuckled back. "Children always are budding artists at that age, Jarod."
"See you in a bit."
"OK," Margaret moved toward the stove and lifted the lid on a pot. "Drive carefully."
Jarod hung up the receiver and then caught Ginger under the arms to lift her as he rose. "Let's go home and see what Grandma Maggie has made for us to eat, shall we?" Little arms found their customary handle around his neck, and dark eyes danced as the head nodded.
"I'm off to the airport," Ethan announced, sticking his head through the door.
"OK. I'll see you at the house," Jarod replied bending over to retrieve his briefcase and Ginger's little backpack with her toys and supplies. "Are you ready?" he asked the little girl. She nodded again and then snuggled down against his shoulder.
"Goodnight, Doctor Jarod, Ginger," Cindy called as the tall psychiatrist walked past her reception desk, where she was standing pulling on her own sweater. "Have a good weekend."
"Oh, I think we'll be doing better than that," Jarod responded with a happy smile. "My fiancé and son are in town tonight. Ethan's gone to pick them up for me."
The receptionist's dark face registered her surprise. "You're engaged to be married, Doctor Jarod? AND have a son? How old?"
"Eight, going on nine soon." Jarod shook his head. "Remind me to tell you the story one of these days, will you? I forgot you didn't know - I'm sorry."
"You bet I'll remind you," Cindy nodded vigorously, setting her golden beads to swaying and clicking about her head. "You've been holding out on me, 'specially since you didn't have no little boy when you left us a few months back." Then she smiled widely at him. "But you enjoy your weekend with your lady and boy. Do they know about her?" she asked, nodding at Ginger.
"Missy does. I just told Davy that he'd get to meet someone special tonight."
"I want ALL the details Monday morning," Cindy demanded with an over-exaggerated tone, "Take pictures - I want to see this fiancé and son. AND come prepared to tell me that story you've been keeping back."
"Yes, ma'am," Jarod chuckled at her and then continued on his way out the door. "You have a good weekend too." He looked up into the late afternoon sky with a practiced eye. The weather was typical California summer weather all over the state - which meant that flying conditions would be optimal all the way from the high desert to Monterey. He smiled both inwardly and outwardly, and then hefted Ginger just a bit higher in his grasp. "C'mon, Sprite. Let's go home. Your new mommy will be here very soon - and a big brother for you too."
He wasn't surprised when his little girl just clung a little tighter. She was the reason he wasn't driving out to the airport himself, as much as he knew that giving Ethan and Missy a little time alone to re-establish their bond was a necessary and right thing to do as well. Ginger felt more secure in her new home, and it would be best for her to meet these all-important new people in a place where she felt most secure. He opened the back passenger door and swung her down into her car seat, depositing briefcase and backpack at her feet before buckling her in.
Ginger gazed up into the face of the one person she cared for most in the world. She couldn't help but notice how happy and excited he looked at the thought of these new people coming. But he kept calling one of them her “new mommy” - and that whole idea was frightening. Like the word “daddy” until he'd begun applying it to himself, “mommy” only meant pain. He wouldn't be bringing in someone new to hurt her, would he?
Jarod smoothed his little girl's hair as he noted the expression of wariness in her eyes. "It will be all right," he promised her. "I told you I'd never let anybody hurt you again, didn't I?" She gave him a teeny nod. "I meant it, Sprite. I love you - and these people will too. You'll see." He crouched down next to her. "I've loved this woman for a very long time, Sprite. She's beautiful, and she's a wonderful mother. You'll see that when you meet Davy, my boy. You're going to have the kind of big brother that will take very good care of you, I promise."
He smoothed his hand down her head again when he saw he hadn't convinced her to let go of her fear yet. "I know this is a lot of new people all at once. But I want you to know that when you get scared, I want you to come to me. I'll help you, OK? I would never let anyone hurt you - you know that."
That Ginger could agree to. He hadn't failed to be right there with protective arms to shield her from everything new so far, and cautiously she nodded agreement. She trusted him completely - and he would protect her from the “mommy.” He HAD to protect her - to keep the “mommy” away - she had nobody else.
"Good girl." Jarod rose, deposited a gentle kiss on his little girl's forehead and then closed her door and went to the driver's side.
~~~~~~~~
Ethan drove to the General Aviation gate of the airport and from there onto the tarmac, heading in the direction of the hangars. The sleek, black jet with the Centre logo painted on the tail was just pulling gently to a halt, and he pulled his sedan up to just off the left wing. He climbed from behind the wheel and then leaned against the roof of the car while he waited. Finally the hatch in the black fuselage cracked open, and a husky bodyguard - probably a sweeper, he thought to himself - lowered the steps and then disappeared back into the plane.
Then, at long last, Ethan saw a familiar figure in the hatchway, one that descended the steps carefully and then turned and extended a hand backwards to help a young boy come down the same steps. He waved at them and came around the end of the car as the pair approached.
She looked the same - and yet, so very different. The years had been kind to his half-sister, although there were silver threads among the dark tresses now and she had laugh lines at the edges of her eyes. Her very demeanor was softer, much more like their mother than she'd ever been in the short time he'd known her before Jarod had severed all ties. And her smile was a study in joy. "Ethan!"
He put out his arms, and his sister simply walked into his embrace. They hugged each other tightly. "It's so GOOD to see you again," he told her with a soft voice. "I just knew we'd see each other again someday."
"I've missed you," she replied in an equally soft voice. "God, I didn't realize how much until just now." Her half-brother still had his boyish good looks, but the look of confused desperation that had always been in the depths of his eyes was gone. Replacing it was a glimmer of humor and laughter. Like her, his hair now held a scattering of silver amid the dark brown. He was tanned and healthy-looking, just as Jarod was now, evidence that the life out here was agreeing with him.
He patted her back gently and then let her go so that he could take a look at the boy who stood to the side patiently. "And this, I take it, is Davy?"
"Uncle Ethan?"
"You're bigger than I thought you were," Ethan told him, bending and extending a hand to him in a very grown-up gesture. "And I'll be dipped if you aren't the spitting image of your mom." He gave the boy a closer look. "No, I see Jarod there too." He ruffled the boy's hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Davy answered in his still-gravelly voice. Uncle Ethan certainly did look a lot like both his mom and dad. "Glad to get out of the hospital."
"I'll bet." Ethan straightened. "Your chariot awaits."
Miss Parker turned and crooked a finger at the bodyguard in the plane, who had stayed discretely away from this little reunion. Now he came down the steps with a duffelbag, and Ethan popped the trunk so that it could be laid inside. "I'll give you a call in the morning to let you know what time we'll be leaving," she directed, taking charge of the duffelbag. "You and Jim take the night off, get a good room somewhere on the Centre's dime, and get a good night's sleep."
"Yes, Miss Parker. Thank you." The bodyguard left the three of them and climbed back into the jet.
"We're all yours for the evening," she told her brother with a grin.
"Not quite," he corrected her with a crooked smile that made hers widen even more. "But for a little while, at any rate."
"Get in, Davy," Miss Parker held the back door for her son, then climbed into the front passenger seat next to Ethan. "Let's see where your Daddy's been hiding himself for all these years."
~~~~~~~~
"Here you go," Jarod said, handing Ginger her backpack the moment they were through the garage door into the house. "Go take your things to your room for now, OK? Mom?" he called as the girl scampered to her room.
"In the kitchen, Jarod," was the reply from the other side of the house.
Jarod found himself following his nose past a dining table already set for six. "You've been busy," he commented as he leaned casually against the doorjamb and watched her put the lid back on one of the pots on the stove.
"I figured your guests would probably be hungry and want to eat when they got here," Margaret answered, walking over to claim a kiss on the cheek from her oldest son. "How soon will they be getting here?"
"Depends on traffic, I suppose," Jarod shrugged, then smiled as he felt Ginger press up against the back of his leg. "See who's here, Sprite? Grandma Maggie."
The dark eyes that peered up into Margaret's face were not half as frightened as they had been just the evening before, and Margaret smiled down at her newest grandchild. "Hi there," she greeted the girl in a carefully modulated soft voice, then bent towards her very slowly and carefully so as not to startle or frighten her. "Do I get a hug?"
Ginger glanced up at her guardian and saw him nod assurance to her. She sidled out from behind Jarod's leg and walked over with a little more certainty this time to the older woman who once more gathered her into an embrace that smelled of flowers and sweet soap.
Margaret sighed softly and kissed the little girl on the side of the head. "Such a nice hug," she cooed gently. "Did you have a good day with... a good day today?" The little head nodded against her. "That's good."
Jarod's ears caught the sound of another car pulling into the driveway. "They're here!" he announced excitedly and, seeing Ginger apparently contented with his mother, walked over to his front door and threw it open.
"Daddy!" Davy trotted a little stiffly down the sidewalk and straight into his father's arms.
"Davy!" Jarod murmured, pulling his son close and up into his embrace with eyes closed in relief. So much of the anxiety that had been in the back of his mind since that horrible call from Missy suddenly seemed to just drop away as he cherished the feel of his son in his arms.
Davy's arms tightened around his father's neck, and he laid his head on the broad shoulder. "I missed you so much," he said in a broken tone.
"I missed you too," Jarod told him, then opened his eyes to see Miss Parker walking down the walk towards them with a happy but slightly nervous smile on her face. He opened one arm and pulled her close too, sharing a gentle kiss of welcome that felt like a homecoming.
"God, Jarod," Miss Parker sighed and leaned heavily into him. His arm tightened around her possessively, and she put one arm around his waist and the other around their son in his arms. "I am SO glad to see you..."
Jarod breathed in deeply. He had his family together again, except for...
"Come in. There are a couple of people I want you both to meet," he grinned at them with a wink at Ethan, who was waiting discretely halfway down the sidewalk until the reunion and introductions were finished, and then turned them around and pulled them into the house.
"Oh, Jarod," Miss Parker breathed, catching her first glimpse of the comfortable openness of his home, "this is lovely." Her eye caught some movement to the left, and then she pulled in her breath in surprise. The woman's hair was now half-silver and half-red, but the blue of her eyes hadn't dimmed since the day Miss Parker had seen Jarod's mother on Carthis. "Oh, my God!"
"Hello, Miss Parker," Margaret said with a cautious smile. "Welcome to California."
Davy raised his head from his father's shoulder and looked at the pretty lady with the startling blue eyes when the voice sounded familiar. "Grandma?" he asked with a small voice. "Is that you?"
Margaret's fingers flew to her lips immediately. "You're Davy?" she asked, then stepped closer to her son so that she could put out a gentle hand to the boy's head. Except for the grey eyes and the slightly patrician nose, he was the image of his father. And to think that she'd resented his very existence up until not that long ago. "I think I'd know you anywhere," she said gently.
For once, Miss Parker didn't know what to say. What was there to say? This was the woman that Jarod had spent over five years searching high and low for and finally vanished completely to find - a woman that she had worked hard to keep him from ever meeting. She pressed herself just a little closer to Jarod and felt his arm tighten around her. She looked up into understanding chocolate eyes and found a little courage. "M...Mrs. Russell," she managed finally, "it's nice to meet you - under somewhat better circumstances this time."
Margaret looked into those beautiful grey eyes filled with Miss Parker's uncertainty of her welcome. "Mrs. Russell was Charles' mother, my dear," she said gently. "I'm Maggie." She smiled. "Your mother used to call me Mag-pie, because when we got together, we chattered like a couple of old birds."
"Daddy, was Grandma the special person you wanted us to meet?" Davy asked his father curiously. He had looked around and not seen anybody else in the house.
Jarod looked - Ginger was nowhere in sight. "Mom..." he began.
"She ran away to her room when she heard voices," Margaret said sadly, then looked back at Miss Parker to explain. "She's still not handling strangers well at all - and there have been a lot of them in her life over the last couple of days."
"Here," Jarod handed Davy over to his mother's arms, "let me go get her..."
"Who?" Davy wanted to know.
"Just wait, Davy," Ethan came up and ruffled his nephew's hair again.
Miss Parker looked from Jarod's retreating back to Margaret. The older woman took note of the expression in her face. "She's a darling child, honestly," she reassured Miss Parker quickly.
Jarod knocked softly on Ginger's door and then pushed it open. Ginger was on her bed, pushed back into a tight little knot against the wall, holding her teddy bear tightly to her chest as if the plush animal could protect her. "Hey, Sprite," he said softly and moved slowly into the room and over to her bed to sit down. "We talked about this before, remember?"
Ginger shook her head vehemently. Talking about it had been one thing. Now the “mommy” was here, and very tall and scary.
"Don't you want to meet your new mommy?" Jarod asked, puzzled.
Ginger shook her head hard again and turned eyes that had huge tears floating in them on her guardian. How could she make him understand that mommies only hurt people? It had been too long, and the words just wouldn't come to her. So she did the only other thing she could think of: she threw herself into Jarod's arms and cowered against him. He said he'd protect her...
He cradled the trembling little girl against him for a long moment, then hefted her more securely in his arms. "I promise you she's not here to hurt you," he said, rising. "I tell you what. I'll hold onto you so that you know that you're safe when you meet her. Will that be OK?"
The little girl just hid her face against Jarod's neck. He sighed. "C'mon, Sprite. Just give them a little try - for me?"
Ginger gave a little sigh. He really didn't understand - and he seemed determined to show her to the “mommy” whether she wanted to or not. Her tears spilled and her arms tightened just that much more around both Jarod and her teddy bear.
Jarod sighed too. He was missing something, something very important to understanding his new daughter's trauma, and he hated having to make this introduction almost against the girl's will - but there was no remedy. He walked out into the living room again and saw that Miss Parker and Davy had gone over to the picture windows with his mother to admire the spectacular view.
Davy was the one that saw Jarod's return and turned to look, then tugged at his mother's elbow to get her attention. "Who's that, Daddy?"
Miss Parker didn't miss how the child clung to Jarod as if her very life depended upon it. She was a small and thin child, almost painfully thin, with two long, dark braids that looked as if they'd seen some wear over the course of the day. "That's Ginger," she answered for Jarod, looking him deeply in the eyes and seeing that there would be no way she'd ever be able to convince him to give up this child. He had bonded to her as tightly as she had ever bonded with Davy prior to knowing him to be hers in fact as well as on paper. He was devoted to the girl. For good or ill, she was meeting her new daughter in much the way that Jarod had met his son, and it was time for her to show Jarod she understood. "Your Daddy - your father and I are going to be adopting her -she's going to be your little sister." Jarod's smile widened, with his relief clearly apparent.
"Really?" Davy could hardly believe his ears. He'd considered himself lucky when, after years of wishing for a Daddy like all the other kids, his own father had suddenly come back into his life. Now to have a little sister... He came even closer so he could peer up at her. "Can I see her? How old is she?"
"She's just seven - and she's a little shy," Jarod understated the obvious as he moved to a couch and sat down so that Ginger was somewhat at Davy's eye level. "You see, the people who were supposed to take care of her before she came to live with me didn't do a very good job. As a matter of fact, some of what they did to her was really bad - SO bad, in fact, that she stopped talking to people completely and is now very, VERY scared of strangers."
"But we won't hurt her," Davy protested.
"She doesn't know that," his father explained patiently, then looked up at Miss Parker, who was staring at the child in his lap. "I think Ethan and I are the first people she's ever known that haven't either been responsible for taking her to strange places and leaving her there with what turned out to be foster parents who should never have had the job or hurting her ourselves."
Davy sat down next to his father on the couch so that he could look into what little bit of the girl's face was visible. "Hey," he reached out a finger and touched her on the hand very gently. Dark and frightened eyes flew open at the touch. "I'm Davy. Don't be scared. I've always kinda wanted a little sister or brother to play with..." he admitted with a shy smile. "Deb's always been too old to play with me. Do you know that I have a tree house over at Grandpa Sydney's, where I have a place of my own way up high in a tree? Ever played in a tree house?"
Jarod felt Ginger relax just the tiniest bit while Davy was talking to her - until Parker came and sat down behind her son so that she too could see the girl better. At that point, the child whimpered and hid her face away from them both. "Jarod," Miss Parker spoke very quietly so as not to startle or frighten, "what's going on?"
"Shhhhh, Sprite, it's OK," he soothed her, holding her tightly and then looking at Miss Parker in defeat. "She was shy and clingy last night, when the whole crew was here - but nothing like this."
"Daddy, what's this?" Davy pointed to a circular scar - the only one that could be seen on the back of Ginger's neck above the collar of her tee shirt.
"Oh, my God!" Miss Parker breathed in horror. She had seen pictures of such scarring during her time in the university studying law - in a crime photo of a child who had been burned with cigarettes. "Who did that to her?" she demanded.
Margaret drew close and gasped as well. She hadn't noticed the scar before. Jarod had made reference to some of Ginger's unfortunate history the evening before. Suddenly that sordid tale had become all too real...
"Her parents," Jarod answered uneasily. "They were drug addicts, and she was just an impediment. That's a scar from a cigarette burn, Davy," he told his son simply. "One of many, I'm afraid."
"Her real mom and dad did THAT to her?" Davy was appalled.
Jarod blinked. That was it! He'd been so busy working at getting her used to the idea of having a family again - so involved in making her a part of HIS family - he'd forgotten entirely what her experiences with a real family had been like. No wonder she was terrified of Missy! She'd never known anything but pain and grief or complete apathy at the hands of a “mommy” - and here he was, setting her up with another one.
He cuddled her close to him and put his mouth near her ear. "Listen to me, Sprite. Not all mommies and daddies do things to their children that hurt them - although I know that yours did. But that's all over now. Most daddies take care of their little girls and make sure that nobody ever hurts them." He put a gentle finger under her chin so that he could look into those terror-struck eyes. "And most mommies spend their time hugging and teaching little girls how to comb their hair and cook. That's the kind of mommy and daddy we want to be for you, sweetheart. We only want to love you and take care of you so you can grow up to a beautiful young lady."
Ginger was listening, and listening carefully. He - she hadn't gotten to the point that she thought of him in any other terms - had never lied to her, had always been a safe haven for her, even during horrible days with the hate-talk mommy. And He'd promised to protect her. She finally got brave enough to shift her eyes so that she could peek at the dreaded “new mommy” he was trying to introduce her to. She was a pretty lady with eyes the color of a stormy sky and dark hair. And the look in the lady's eyes was gentle, much like the look in Grandma Maggie's - and she was starting to like Grandma Maggie. She gave nice hugs.
"Hello, Ginger," Miss Parker said finally, her gaze caught and held by dark eyes that looked so very much like Jarod's had a long, long time ago. Such fear and pain and betrayal and distrust to see in the eyes of one so young! What had Jarod asked her - what she would have done if she'd had the chance to undo the damage done to Angelo? Now she understood the basis of the question - and for the first time knew exactly what had driven her mother to try to rescue the children trapped at the Centre. This girl was very small for being a seven-year-old, but behind the terror was a sparkle that told her this was a very intelligent child. And she knew better than most that it would have taken a very strong personality to handle abuse of the kind she obviously had survived and still been functional at all. All this little girl needed was someone to love her and give her the security she needed. It was, after all, what she herself had needed for so long, and found not so many years ago when her relationship with Sydney had changed so dramatically.
Thinking of her foster father made her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile. "Wait until Sydney sees her, Jarod - he's going to just melt," she told Jarod in that soft and quiet voice, "She's absolutely beautiful - and actually looks a lot like you. He'll be a helpless marshmallow the moment she climbs into his lap - mark my words."
"What about you? Are you still so sure that you can't handle another child?" he asked her after dropping a kiss on Ginger's head. "Are you sure you don't have time to help mend a little girl's heart?"
Very slowly and carefully, she put out a hand until she could brush the child's cheeks with the backs of her fingers, her heart breaking as she felt Ginger flinch as if afraid of being hurt. "Shhhh, sweetheart, I would never hurt you," she soothed, trying to make her voice as comforting as possible. "I would have liked to have been consulted in the process," she grumbled finally very softly in answer to Jarod's questions, "but now that I see her..." The hand moved to stroke the dark hair, and she took some comfort that this time Ginger didn't quite flinch from the touch. "I guess that this is what was meant to be." She looked up at the man who owned her heart. "I guess I have a daughter, don't I?"
Jarod bent forward very carefully over Ginger, and Miss Parker bent forward over Davy's head, and they met in a gentle kiss with their children sheltered safely between them.
Margaret watched the little family with the obvious affection between Jarod and Miss Parker, and saw the same kind of relationship that Emily and Nathan had - that she'd had with Charles. Like it or not, her oldest son really did belong with his former huntress. The look of peace and contentedness on Jarod's face was unmistakable - especially now that he had all his family together for the first time.
She moved toward the kitchen, determined to get the supper into serving dishes and on the table now that everyone was here. All she had ever wanted was her son's happiness, and when he had brought home the news of his having found happiness in Delaware, she had selfishly tried to steal it from him with harsh words and recriminations. No wonder he had finally gotten to the point that he hadn't wanted to have her around.
"Hey, Mom," Ethan had followed her into the kitchen, drawn by the wistful expression on her face before she'd walked away. "You OK?" He walked up behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Mom?"
"I'll be OK," she reassured him. "I'm just realizing how foolish I was to think that I could keep Jarod here with me - how selfish I was to want to keep him to myself when he has his own family."
"It was a bad time for you," Ethan told her gently. "You'd just lost Dad, and we all knew you were afraid you were losing Jarod too." He glanced toward the living room. "But I think it's pretty obvious that you're not so much losing Jarod as gaining a new daughter and two pretty neat grandchildren."
"I know," she replied, "at least, I know that NOW. I just feel like I'm waking up from a very long and very bad dream."
Ethan turned his foster-mother away from the stove and put his arms around her to hold her close. "I'm glad," he said quietly, "because my sister could really use a mother figure, you know."
Margaret leaned against her foster son thoughtfully. She knew Catherine had died when her daughter was young - but she hadn't thought of the consequences of that in quite that way before.
~~~~~~~~
Margaret and Miss Parker worked side by side putting the extra food away and rinsing dishes, neither exactly sure what to say to the other. It had been Ethan, Jarod and Davy that had carried the dinner conversation forward with very little contribution from the females. Ginger had been convinced finally to sit in her own chair between Jarod and Ethan, but had crawled into her guardian's lap the moment the meal had concluded.
The silence between the women was an uncomfortable one - and Margaret decided that it would she to break the impasse. "I was wrong."
Miss Parker hesitated in handing her another rinsed plate. "Wrong about what?"
"I thought you were taking my son away from me - you'd chased him for so many years, and now you'd finally found a way to catch him..."
Miss Parker thought for a moment. "Did Jarod ever tell you what happened the first time I saw him after he came back to Delaware?"
Blue met grey. "No..."
"I decked him - knocked him flat on his ass."
Margaret's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding!"
"Uh-unh," Miss Parker shook her head. "Until he left for good, I never let myself know how much he meant to me. His leaving damned near killed me - literally and figuratively. He never even said goodbye." Even now, that still hurt.
Margaret caught her breath. The pain in that last statement was immense. "I didn't know."
"Nobody did," Miss Parker admitted. "And so when he came back, my first reaction was anger - how DARE he think he could just waltz back into my life after so many years! So I slugged him." She realized her hands had slowed in their task, and she shook herself and began rinsing with more purpose again. "Then we found out Davy really was OURS."
"Jarod said you didn't even know he was yours."
Miss Parker shook her head. "I thought he was my half-brother. It wasn't until after Jarod came back that Syd ran a DNA test, and Broots uncovered a DSA that we found out the truth. I'd adopted him myself years ago because I didn't want him growing up in the Centre." She turned and looked at Margaret. "I swear to you that I didn't know if I wanted Jarod back in my life. Besides, he was determined to come back here to California when we were through."
"But in the end he decided he wanted to stay with you," Margaret reminded her, taking the last plate and slipping it into the dishwasher.
"We fell in love all over again," Miss Parker exclaimed defensively, "and we found out we had a son together."
"But that's my point," Margaret said, setting the machine's controls to start and then drying her hands on a towel that she then handed over to her companion. "After all those years, it had never occurred to me that you actually did love my son - or that he could actually love you. I know how the Centre works - worked. Your having his son could have been a convenient ploy. And I'd just lost my husband and was feeling VERY vulnerable when Jarod suddenly announced he needed to see Sydney again. The idea that he WANTED to go back to Delaware at all..."
"I was sorry to hear about Major Charles," Miss Parker said quietly, drying her hands and hanging the towel where it belonged. "I owed him an apology for being stupid enough to believe that he killed my mother in the elevator. She didn't even die that day - it was all a ruse..."
"There have been too many ruses and rumors and misunderstandings over the years," Margaret told her. "That was one of the reasons I wanted to be here tonight - I wanted to see for myself if what Jarod said about you was true, and if it was, then I wanted to tell you that as long as you make my son happy, I'll be happy too."
"Really?" Miss Parker could hardly believe that the conflict she'd feared she'd face here in California had evaporated before it even got started.
Margaret turned to her, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled. "You're the daughter of my best friend, and the woman my son loves. I just hope you'll forgive me for my foolishness."
The two women carefully hugged, and the hug slowly grew into a warm and fond one.
~~~~~~~~
"Stay."
Miss Parker shifted against Jarod, moving her head from his chest to his shoulder so she could see his face in the dim light. "What?"
"Don't fly home tomorrow. Stay here one more day, please?"
"Jarod..." God, she was tempted! She had missed being in his arms, at his side, in the night.
"Tomorrow's Saturday - I don't have to work, and its about time we broke the habit of seven-day workweeks for you too," he pressed, his hand slowly stroking the soft skin of her back. "Besides, then you'd get a chance to meet some of the rest of my family here - and to let Ginger get to know you a little better. Stay?"
She rolled slightly so that she could run her fingers through the hair on his chest. "Are you trying to talk me into playing hooky?" she asked mischievously.
"Absolutely! Anything to keep you with me for a little while longer," he said, his voice deep and vibrant. "I've missed you so much..." His arms closed around her possessively, and she settled back against his chest again.
"I told Tyler..."
She felt him shrug beneath her head. "So... You can call him tomorrow and tell him you're taking an extra day, can't you?"
"Sydney..."
"Would be thrilled that I'd gotten you to take a break, and you know it! Face it, these last few days have been hard as hell on both of us. We DESERVE a little more time together than just one night, don't we?" He was quiet for a long moment, contented in running his hand up and down the velvety skin. "Any more objections?"
"No," she said softly. She really did want to stay, to have the chance to be with him for longer than just a few hours. "I'll call everybody in the morning and set it up." Her fingers swirled through the chest hair again. "I love you, you know..."
And then there were no more words, only rustling sheets and occasional sighs.
