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Brand New Year, Part 15
By Ginger
"Do the words 'over my dead body' mean anything to you?"
Miranda was tempted to shoot back "promises, promises" but held her tongue. It would be so easy to fall back into her old pattern with him; easy, but totally unhelpful. While she had anticipated his hostility, what she hadn't expected was how unpleasant she would find it to be back on the receiving end. In truth, it stung like hell, forcing her to fight back tears as she tried to reason with him. Yeah, right, she thought bitterly. Reason. To say that this topic was a "sore spot" with Jarod was an understatement of comic proportions. Only it wasn't funny; it wasn't the least bit funny. She felt as though she were fighting for the future of her family. For the future, period.
"Jarod," she began evenly. "This is not a choice. If Michael is who the scrolls say he is then our only choices are whether or not to prepare him and how to go about it."
"And, this, according to Ethan?" he sneered in reply. "Oh, yes, let's turn our child into a science experiment on the say-so of a man who hears voices and who, were it not for my intervention, would have committed mass murder."
"Keep it down!" she barked then drew a deep breath and added, "You once asked me to trust my 'inner sense' because you did."
Jarod scoffed. Miranda shook her head solemnly and continued, "I'm asking you to trust me now because that voice inside me, Mama's voice, is telling me that what he says is true. She showed him, Jarod. She came to him and showed him. And, as I suspected, Ethan and Michael have been communicating for months. Our son has a tremendous gift, not to mention the fact that he's highly intelligent, so how long do you think it will take him to figure it out? What do you think we should do, lie to him? Tell him he's like other children when it's so glaringly obvious that he's not?"
"What we should do is give him what we didn't have - the opportunity to be a child. We can protect him; we're the only ones who can."
"Protect him? Protect him from who he really is? That's not protecting him, that's gaslighting him, and I'll be damned if I'll lie to my son the way I was lied to."
Sitting forward in his seat, Jarod glared menacingly at her and warned, "And I'll be damned if I let YOU deprive MY son the opportunity to lead a normal life."
"NORMAL?" she blurted then emitted a bitter chuckle. "Don't you think he's eventually going to notice that we move around a lot and have a different last name every other week? Are we going to try to convince him that everyone lives that way?"
He winced as though her words were an object hitting him in the face, the anger in his eyes giving way to fear. He bolted from his chair and began pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. Miranda swallowed hard and eyed him cautiously. Angry Jarod was a handful; desperate Jarod was another story altogether.
"Listen," she began in a calm, soothing tone as she rose slowly from her seat. "I know this isn't what we had in mind, but we'll be okay. I have to believe that the reason he's ours is that we're the ones who can handle this."
Moving behind him, she placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder and added, "And, while I don't like it any better than you do..."
He spun on her, compelling her to take a defensive step back. Through a tight jaw he challenged, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you're pleased as punch to have your hands on your own little 'lab rat'. Perhaps the apple doesn't fall far from the Parker tree."
Now it was Miranda's turn to feel as though she'd been hit in the face or, more accurately, punched in the stomach. She knew the feeling well: Mr. Parker had been expert at making her feel this way. But despite how unpleasant things had grown between them over the years, Jarod had never made her feel this way, until now. She felt betrayed and humiliated by the abundant tears now rolling down her cheeks. And then she felt rage - blind, searing rage.
"I hate you!" she screamed then slapped him hard across the face, the sickening "thwap" as her palm connected with his cheek echoing in her ears as she bolted from the room.
He may have reached for her, he may have called out to her, Miranda wasn't sure and didn't care as she charged toward the nursery. She entered the room to find Ethan holding, and speaking softly to, Michael, who sniffled and looked at her with damp, red-rimmed eyes. Her heart shattered.
"Baby," she choked out. "I'm so sorry!"
"He'll be fine," Ethan assured as he gently placed his nephew into his sister's outstretched arms. "He's just never heard his mother and father yell before... which, if you think about it, is pretty amazing," he tacked on in a failed attempt to lighten the mood.
"Love you, baby, love you, love you, love you," she chanted between kisses to the top of his head, forehead, nose and cheeks as she paced the floor, bouncing him in her arms.
"Is he alright?"
Miranda turned to find Jarod standing in the doorway and looking about as miserable as she'd ever seen him. She narrowed her eyes then turned her back to him.
"He's fine," Ethan piped in to fill the tense silence. "C'mon, big brother. I'm thirsty; let's get something cold to drink."
Hearing the door close softly behind her, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, wringing fresh tears as she held on to Michael for dear life. After a few seconds he sighed, his warm breath on her neck like salve for whatever ailed her.
"Ma?" he uttered questioningly then wriggled in her arms.
She slackened her grip slightly, allowing him to point to his crib. With a nod, she padded over to it and held him over the gate to pick up his moose. He pressed the creature's snout to her cheek and commanded, "Be-sa!"
Her heart reassembled and swelled as she chuckled and kissed her son's smiling lips. Recalling the days when she could get through just about anything by numbing her emotions, Miranda wondered how on earth people managed to live like this without going stark raving mad.
* * * *
Staring forlornly at the ceiling fan spinning above his head, Jarod observed, "Well, I suppose it's justice. I'll never be able to sleep without her beside me so I'll never sleep again."
"I don't claim to be any sort of an expert on these things," Ethan remarked from his position on the air mattress. "But I think 'never' may be overstating a bit."
"Overstating? I am currently locked out of my own bedroom," Jarod grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
After a few more futile attempts to get comfortable, he emitted a loud groan of frustration and sat up. Swinging his legs onto the porch floor, he buried his face in his hands and sighed.
"I'll bet you're sorry that I showed up," Ethan commented wryly.
Combing a hand through his tousled hair Jarod replied, "Remember that YOU said it." Frowning he added, "I'm sorry, Ethan. Whether or not I agree with your interpretation of things, it is not your fault that I... I... hurt her. And I am not sorry that you showed up. I missed you, Michael worships you and Andi adores you. You and Michael make her happy; that's the important thing. Maybe if she's surrounded by people who her make her happy, she won't leave me forever."
"Leave you forever?" the younger man inquired, lifting his head from his pillow to blink incredulously through the darkness at his older brother. "I didn't hear her say anything about leaving you forever."
"I harbor no illusions. I know it's our son that binds her to me, and now we're fighting over him. I also know that until Andi and Michael showed up at my door I was nothing... nothing but an empty shell to be filled by whatever pretend I was engaged in. And if I ever lost them, I... I would rather die than return to that existence."
Rising from the couch, Jarod yawned and stretched then advised, "One of us might as well get some sleep and I'm keeping you up. I think I'll go out for a walk then put the coffee on. Maybe if I make myself useful..." he trailed off as he lumbered into the house, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Dropping his head to his pillow Ethan sighed, "Oh, big brother, you just don't get it."
* * * *
"You MUST have more babies!" Luis exclaimed. "A little girl! You must have a little girl, Jarod, to experience the joy and agony of losing your heart all over again!"
"Luis!" Eleonora scolded, shooting him a warning look from across the table. "You are embarrassing our hosts, and after they have prepared such a lovely meal for us."
"But that is why I am advising them, Ele, for their own good! Look at this fine fellow," he patted the back of Michael's high chair. "He is a born leader and will make a perfect big brother. Won't you, mi capitán!"
Michael cast him a faintly bemused look, tilting his head slightly with eyebrows knit as he considered the man for a beat or two before chuckling and offering him a Cheerio.
"Mmmm... ¡Muy delicioso!" Luis declared as he accepted the offering and chomped exaggeratedly on it.
Cheeks burning, Jarod stole a glance at Miranda, whose eyes were fused to her plate as she reached blindly, and successfully, for her wine glass. Although she had remained icy toward him all day, from the moment their guests arrived she had been the picture of warmth, grace and charm. It was rather chilling, actually, and he speculated that her performance was the result of years of Centre training.
She raised her head and Jarod quickly averted his gaze as he heard her offer with polite ease, "May I interest anyone in coffee and dessert? Perhaps a little brandy?"
He shivered, wondering if she was plotting his death as he glanced suspiciously at his nearly-empty wine glass, the glass SHE had filled. He looked up to find Ethan staring at him with barely contained amusement and, for the first time in his life, understood the desire to seriously pummel a younger sibling.
* * * *
"Thanks again for the wine; it was lovely!" Miranda called from the doorway then disappeared into the house.
After closing the passenger door and waving through the window at Eleonora, Jarod walked around the car to shake Luis's hand, offering, "It was truly a pleasure."
"For Eleonora and me, definitely, but I fear not for you, mi amigo."
"Excuse me?" Jarod replied, blinking in confusion.
"Whatever it is that you have done, you have my blessing to take tomorrow off to make it right. Perhaps your brother-in-law can take Miguel out for the day?"
"B... but... she?"
"Is a perfect angel - you are a lucky man - but you are like a man condemned to the gallows and I know because I have been there myself... too many times." Luis sighed then continued with a wry chuckle, "To remain lucky you must learn to grovel... to crawl... to make yourself lower than the lowest of God's creatures. Be brave, mi hermano!" he advised, squeezing Jarod's shoulder with one hand while saluting with the other.
"You will be in my prayers," he tacked on solemnly before erupting with laughter, which continued as he opened the car door and climbed in beside his wife and remained audible over the sound of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel as they drove off.
As soon as the car rounded the bend and was out of sight, Jarod turned to face the house. Frowning he grumbled, "I'm glad everyone finds this so amusing."
* * * *
Ethan was clearing the table with Michael in his usual position at his heels. Without looking up he reported,
"She's taking a hot bath."
Slumping into a chair Jarod sighed wistfully and said, "Did you see how flawlessly she juggled the dual roles of hostess and executioner?"
"Oh yeah," Ethan replied wryly. "I'll have to remember to never, ever make her angry with me."
"Nobody can torture me the way she can. Nobody. And considering where I spent thirty years of my life, that's saying something."
"That's because you love her."
"So much that I'm fairly certain it will be the death of me."
"Wait a minute!" Ethan exclaimed, startling both Jarod and Michael as he set a handful of dirty plates down heavily. Taking a seat and pulling Michael onto his lap he accused, "You haven't told her!"
"I... I... she... she knows!" Jarod babbled defensively. Ethan simply stared, agape, and shook his head in disbelief.
"Doesn't she? You must be able to tell! You two have that... connection!"
"Oh no," Ethan protested, raising his free hand for emphasis. "I tried wandering on to that minefield once. Never again. There is only one person in this room who can rectify the situation and it isn't either person seated in THIS chair."
Jarod pondered a moment, nodded gravely, smiled sheepishly, and asked, "Well, then, would you mind doing an idiot a favor?"
"I'm on it, big brother." Addressing the child on his lap, Ethan inquired, "What do you say, kiddo? How do you feel about a slumber party on the porch?"
Rising from his chair, Jarod paced across the room and leaned forward to kiss his son's forehead. Squeezing his brother's shoulder he advised, "Just make sure there's some actual slumber, okay?"
Ethan nodded, sighing in relief as he watched his brother exit the room. Returning his attention to his nephew, he found Michael blinking expectantly at him.
"We may hear voices," he whispered with a conspiratorial smile. "But, between you and me, I think WE'RE the sane ones."
# # # #
Tbc...
A/N: Don't blame ME for poor Jarod's ordeal in this chapter. It's actually all Phenyx's fault. Since she's clearly not having Miss Parker make him PAY DEARLY for his inexcusable behavior in her current fic, I feel compelled to do it here. So, on his knees he goes! *Evil Grin*
Brand New Year, Part 15
By Ginger
"Do the words 'over my dead body' mean anything to you?"
Miranda was tempted to shoot back "promises, promises" but held her tongue. It would be so easy to fall back into her old pattern with him; easy, but totally unhelpful. While she had anticipated his hostility, what she hadn't expected was how unpleasant she would find it to be back on the receiving end. In truth, it stung like hell, forcing her to fight back tears as she tried to reason with him. Yeah, right, she thought bitterly. Reason. To say that this topic was a "sore spot" with Jarod was an understatement of comic proportions. Only it wasn't funny; it wasn't the least bit funny. She felt as though she were fighting for the future of her family. For the future, period.
"Jarod," she began evenly. "This is not a choice. If Michael is who the scrolls say he is then our only choices are whether or not to prepare him and how to go about it."
"And, this, according to Ethan?" he sneered in reply. "Oh, yes, let's turn our child into a science experiment on the say-so of a man who hears voices and who, were it not for my intervention, would have committed mass murder."
"Keep it down!" she barked then drew a deep breath and added, "You once asked me to trust my 'inner sense' because you did."
Jarod scoffed. Miranda shook her head solemnly and continued, "I'm asking you to trust me now because that voice inside me, Mama's voice, is telling me that what he says is true. She showed him, Jarod. She came to him and showed him. And, as I suspected, Ethan and Michael have been communicating for months. Our son has a tremendous gift, not to mention the fact that he's highly intelligent, so how long do you think it will take him to figure it out? What do you think we should do, lie to him? Tell him he's like other children when it's so glaringly obvious that he's not?"
"What we should do is give him what we didn't have - the opportunity to be a child. We can protect him; we're the only ones who can."
"Protect him? Protect him from who he really is? That's not protecting him, that's gaslighting him, and I'll be damned if I'll lie to my son the way I was lied to."
Sitting forward in his seat, Jarod glared menacingly at her and warned, "And I'll be damned if I let YOU deprive MY son the opportunity to lead a normal life."
"NORMAL?" she blurted then emitted a bitter chuckle. "Don't you think he's eventually going to notice that we move around a lot and have a different last name every other week? Are we going to try to convince him that everyone lives that way?"
He winced as though her words were an object hitting him in the face, the anger in his eyes giving way to fear. He bolted from his chair and began pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. Miranda swallowed hard and eyed him cautiously. Angry Jarod was a handful; desperate Jarod was another story altogether.
"Listen," she began in a calm, soothing tone as she rose slowly from her seat. "I know this isn't what we had in mind, but we'll be okay. I have to believe that the reason he's ours is that we're the ones who can handle this."
Moving behind him, she placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder and added, "And, while I don't like it any better than you do..."
He spun on her, compelling her to take a defensive step back. Through a tight jaw he challenged, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you're pleased as punch to have your hands on your own little 'lab rat'. Perhaps the apple doesn't fall far from the Parker tree."
Now it was Miranda's turn to feel as though she'd been hit in the face or, more accurately, punched in the stomach. She knew the feeling well: Mr. Parker had been expert at making her feel this way. But despite how unpleasant things had grown between them over the years, Jarod had never made her feel this way, until now. She felt betrayed and humiliated by the abundant tears now rolling down her cheeks. And then she felt rage - blind, searing rage.
"I hate you!" she screamed then slapped him hard across the face, the sickening "thwap" as her palm connected with his cheek echoing in her ears as she bolted from the room.
He may have reached for her, he may have called out to her, Miranda wasn't sure and didn't care as she charged toward the nursery. She entered the room to find Ethan holding, and speaking softly to, Michael, who sniffled and looked at her with damp, red-rimmed eyes. Her heart shattered.
"Baby," she choked out. "I'm so sorry!"
"He'll be fine," Ethan assured as he gently placed his nephew into his sister's outstretched arms. "He's just never heard his mother and father yell before... which, if you think about it, is pretty amazing," he tacked on in a failed attempt to lighten the mood.
"Love you, baby, love you, love you, love you," she chanted between kisses to the top of his head, forehead, nose and cheeks as she paced the floor, bouncing him in her arms.
"Is he alright?"
Miranda turned to find Jarod standing in the doorway and looking about as miserable as she'd ever seen him. She narrowed her eyes then turned her back to him.
"He's fine," Ethan piped in to fill the tense silence. "C'mon, big brother. I'm thirsty; let's get something cold to drink."
Hearing the door close softly behind her, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, wringing fresh tears as she held on to Michael for dear life. After a few seconds he sighed, his warm breath on her neck like salve for whatever ailed her.
"Ma?" he uttered questioningly then wriggled in her arms.
She slackened her grip slightly, allowing him to point to his crib. With a nod, she padded over to it and held him over the gate to pick up his moose. He pressed the creature's snout to her cheek and commanded, "Be-sa!"
Her heart reassembled and swelled as she chuckled and kissed her son's smiling lips. Recalling the days when she could get through just about anything by numbing her emotions, Miranda wondered how on earth people managed to live like this without going stark raving mad.
* * * *
Staring forlornly at the ceiling fan spinning above his head, Jarod observed, "Well, I suppose it's justice. I'll never be able to sleep without her beside me so I'll never sleep again."
"I don't claim to be any sort of an expert on these things," Ethan remarked from his position on the air mattress. "But I think 'never' may be overstating a bit."
"Overstating? I am currently locked out of my own bedroom," Jarod grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
After a few more futile attempts to get comfortable, he emitted a loud groan of frustration and sat up. Swinging his legs onto the porch floor, he buried his face in his hands and sighed.
"I'll bet you're sorry that I showed up," Ethan commented wryly.
Combing a hand through his tousled hair Jarod replied, "Remember that YOU said it." Frowning he added, "I'm sorry, Ethan. Whether or not I agree with your interpretation of things, it is not your fault that I... I... hurt her. And I am not sorry that you showed up. I missed you, Michael worships you and Andi adores you. You and Michael make her happy; that's the important thing. Maybe if she's surrounded by people who her make her happy, she won't leave me forever."
"Leave you forever?" the younger man inquired, lifting his head from his pillow to blink incredulously through the darkness at his older brother. "I didn't hear her say anything about leaving you forever."
"I harbor no illusions. I know it's our son that binds her to me, and now we're fighting over him. I also know that until Andi and Michael showed up at my door I was nothing... nothing but an empty shell to be filled by whatever pretend I was engaged in. And if I ever lost them, I... I would rather die than return to that existence."
Rising from the couch, Jarod yawned and stretched then advised, "One of us might as well get some sleep and I'm keeping you up. I think I'll go out for a walk then put the coffee on. Maybe if I make myself useful..." he trailed off as he lumbered into the house, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Dropping his head to his pillow Ethan sighed, "Oh, big brother, you just don't get it."
* * * *
"You MUST have more babies!" Luis exclaimed. "A little girl! You must have a little girl, Jarod, to experience the joy and agony of losing your heart all over again!"
"Luis!" Eleonora scolded, shooting him a warning look from across the table. "You are embarrassing our hosts, and after they have prepared such a lovely meal for us."
"But that is why I am advising them, Ele, for their own good! Look at this fine fellow," he patted the back of Michael's high chair. "He is a born leader and will make a perfect big brother. Won't you, mi capitán!"
Michael cast him a faintly bemused look, tilting his head slightly with eyebrows knit as he considered the man for a beat or two before chuckling and offering him a Cheerio.
"Mmmm... ¡Muy delicioso!" Luis declared as he accepted the offering and chomped exaggeratedly on it.
Cheeks burning, Jarod stole a glance at Miranda, whose eyes were fused to her plate as she reached blindly, and successfully, for her wine glass. Although she had remained icy toward him all day, from the moment their guests arrived she had been the picture of warmth, grace and charm. It was rather chilling, actually, and he speculated that her performance was the result of years of Centre training.
She raised her head and Jarod quickly averted his gaze as he heard her offer with polite ease, "May I interest anyone in coffee and dessert? Perhaps a little brandy?"
He shivered, wondering if she was plotting his death as he glanced suspiciously at his nearly-empty wine glass, the glass SHE had filled. He looked up to find Ethan staring at him with barely contained amusement and, for the first time in his life, understood the desire to seriously pummel a younger sibling.
* * * *
"Thanks again for the wine; it was lovely!" Miranda called from the doorway then disappeared into the house.
After closing the passenger door and waving through the window at Eleonora, Jarod walked around the car to shake Luis's hand, offering, "It was truly a pleasure."
"For Eleonora and me, definitely, but I fear not for you, mi amigo."
"Excuse me?" Jarod replied, blinking in confusion.
"Whatever it is that you have done, you have my blessing to take tomorrow off to make it right. Perhaps your brother-in-law can take Miguel out for the day?"
"B... but... she?"
"Is a perfect angel - you are a lucky man - but you are like a man condemned to the gallows and I know because I have been there myself... too many times." Luis sighed then continued with a wry chuckle, "To remain lucky you must learn to grovel... to crawl... to make yourself lower than the lowest of God's creatures. Be brave, mi hermano!" he advised, squeezing Jarod's shoulder with one hand while saluting with the other.
"You will be in my prayers," he tacked on solemnly before erupting with laughter, which continued as he opened the car door and climbed in beside his wife and remained audible over the sound of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel as they drove off.
As soon as the car rounded the bend and was out of sight, Jarod turned to face the house. Frowning he grumbled, "I'm glad everyone finds this so amusing."
* * * *
Ethan was clearing the table with Michael in his usual position at his heels. Without looking up he reported,
"She's taking a hot bath."
Slumping into a chair Jarod sighed wistfully and said, "Did you see how flawlessly she juggled the dual roles of hostess and executioner?"
"Oh yeah," Ethan replied wryly. "I'll have to remember to never, ever make her angry with me."
"Nobody can torture me the way she can. Nobody. And considering where I spent thirty years of my life, that's saying something."
"That's because you love her."
"So much that I'm fairly certain it will be the death of me."
"Wait a minute!" Ethan exclaimed, startling both Jarod and Michael as he set a handful of dirty plates down heavily. Taking a seat and pulling Michael onto his lap he accused, "You haven't told her!"
"I... I... she... she knows!" Jarod babbled defensively. Ethan simply stared, agape, and shook his head in disbelief.
"Doesn't she? You must be able to tell! You two have that... connection!"
"Oh no," Ethan protested, raising his free hand for emphasis. "I tried wandering on to that minefield once. Never again. There is only one person in this room who can rectify the situation and it isn't either person seated in THIS chair."
Jarod pondered a moment, nodded gravely, smiled sheepishly, and asked, "Well, then, would you mind doing an idiot a favor?"
"I'm on it, big brother." Addressing the child on his lap, Ethan inquired, "What do you say, kiddo? How do you feel about a slumber party on the porch?"
Rising from his chair, Jarod paced across the room and leaned forward to kiss his son's forehead. Squeezing his brother's shoulder he advised, "Just make sure there's some actual slumber, okay?"
Ethan nodded, sighing in relief as he watched his brother exit the room. Returning his attention to his nephew, he found Michael blinking expectantly at him.
"We may hear voices," he whispered with a conspiratorial smile. "But, between you and me, I think WE'RE the sane ones."
# # # #
Tbc...
A/N: Don't blame ME for poor Jarod's ordeal in this chapter. It's actually all Phenyx's fault. Since she's clearly not having Miss Parker make him PAY DEARLY for his inexcusable behavior in her current fic, I feel compelled to do it here. So, on his knees he goes! *Evil Grin*
