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Chapter or Story
Part 14 - Esuberante
Jarod let himself out of the living room, feeling like an intruder as the discussion of the family that was not his got underway.
"Son?"
The Pretender smiled as his father appeared. "Hi, Dad. Where were you?"
"I was contemplating life."
"That old thing again, huh?" Jarod grinned.
"Your sister was shrieking about something before."
"Oh, really?"
"Uh huh. Something about the baby still not having a name yet."
"Oh, heck!" Jarod clapped one hand to his forehead. "I forget about it! I promised her the next time we were all together, we'd talk about it and pick one."
Major Charles laughed. "I told her the same thing. We'd better make sure we do it, then, or we could both be in trouble."
Jarod joined in his father's amusement and the two of them made their way outside to enjoy the last few hours of that day's sunlight together.
"You," Miss Parker looked at Jarod accusingly as he appeared in their bedroom doorway that night, "have a promise to keep."
"Not you, too!" Jarod sagged against the doorframe, one eye trained on her to see how she reacted.
"Jarod, what are you talking about?"
"First," he responded cautiously. "What are you talking about?"
"A certain promise you made," she lowered her voice as an additional reminder, "just before I astonished you with my genius."
"Ah, yes." He slowly smiled. "That promise."
"And, as I was a little busy that night - "
"Which you promised you wouldn't be," he interjected as he closed the door.
"I figured that tonight would be an appropriate time to atone for the high crime and misdemeanor of forgetting about me."
"Hmm," he sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced over his shoulder at her, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "Well now, let me think..."
She placed one hand on his shoulder and pulled him backwards so that he was lying on the mattress in front of her. Hungrily, she brought her lips down to his and he responded in a similar manner, one hand on the back of her neck, holding her close.
"No thinking," she murmured as they broke apart briefly. "That's not allowed."
He began to slowly undo the buttons of her shirt. "Anything else not allowed?"
"Let me think about it."
"Well, don't think for too long," he smiled as he watched the material slip from her shoulders, "or I might lose interest."
"No," she shook her head as she divested him of his t-shirt and he crawled over the bed towards her, "that's something you would definitely not have the chance to do."
"Promise?"
The word was muffled as he brought his lips to her chest, beginning at the nape of her neck and planting a trail of gentle kisses down her front. She groaned softly and undid his jeans, watching as he slipped out of them and let them fall to the floor.
"Promise."
"Good." He expertly undid her bra hooks and delicately slipped it over her arms, allowing it to slide off the bed.
"You've been practicing."
He smiled at her comment. "Once learned, never forgotten." His gentle trail worked its way further down along her stomach.
"Never?" She slipped one finger under the elastic around his waist and gently tugged until they came off.
"Never." He brought his eyes level with hers. "Shut up and kiss me, Parker."
She did.
He opened his eyes and looked through the darkness. The moon had already departed from the night sky and the sun was close to rising. One arm lay around her shoulders and her head rested on his chest, her hair spread out over him like a protective blanket. Her hand rested gently on his chest, under her hair, and he smiled as the fingers gently moved, announcing to him that she, too, was still awake.
"Parker?"
"What is it, Jarod?"
The two of them whispered as though there was somebody else who could be disturbed by their discussion.
"Do you mind me still calling you that? It should really be Remarque - but..."
"But what?"
"It doesn't fit you, somehow."
"And 'Parker' does?"
"Out of habit, only," he gently moved his fingers on her bare arm, "yes."
"There's one name I like better."
"And what's that?"
"Ballinger."
For a moment, Jarod remained silent.
"Would you like to become one?"
She raised herself on one elbow and looked down at his face, only just visible in the darkness.
"Are you serious?"
He reached up and brushed a stray curl out of her eyes.
"Completely."
"And you're… asking me… to marry you?"
Jarod laughed softly. "You sound like Broots under moments of extreme duress."
She giggled quietly.
"Is my question so astonishing?"
"Well, I guess..."
"Maleah, I love you. I'm in love with you. What on earth could be more natural than to marry you? We could settle down, start a family..."
"…and live happily ever after?"
He slipped a hand around the back of her neck and drew her down to him again, kissing her. "If that's the way you want it, yes. Happily ever after."
Jarod slipped into the living room later that morning and perched himself on the armrest of the chair his sister was also occupying.
"What did I miss? Anything good?"
"You sound like I used to when I was late to class," she teased him. "No, we were just discussing the fact that most of the groups we highlighted as being most likely to ask for information have now done so." She paused for a moment. "So where were you, anyway?"
"The baby cried as I went past the door. I had to stop and check he was okay."
"'The baby', huh?"
"Okay, okay," Jarod threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "We'll find a name for him today. I promise."
"Son? Could you join us now or do you and Emily want to go and chat in some other room?"
"Gee," Jarod joked aloud. "Now I know how you must have felt Em." He winked at her and stood up. "I am instructed," he announced to the room in general, "to request, under threat of vengeance of a horrible order, that we find a name for the as-yet-nameless infant who is currently slumbering sweetly upstairs."
With this poetic beginning, he stepped out of the room and picked up a tray, onto which he had taped a sheet of paper.
"Do we have any suggestions for this poor, unnamed child?"
"You sound like an auctioneer," Broots grinned across the room at him.
Jarod raised an eyebrow. "One name, if you please, Mr Broots, rather than a whole sentence! The poor child! And such a sentence!"
He heard the snickering from behind him and glanced over his shoulder at his sister with a second wink.
"Robert."
Jarod dutifully wrote down the name.
"John."
"Thomas."
"Lucas."
"Steven."
Jarod glared across at her. "You might like the name, Maleah. I do myself. But have you forgotten that somebody - two somebodies, in fact - already laid claim to that name."
"All right, sorry." She hid her face in mock-embarrassment.
"Any other suggestions?"
"Peter."
"William."
Jarod shuddered and refused to write that one down. "On no account. There is no way that I would be willing for the poor child to be saddled with that name."
He glanced around again. "Is that all? Just five? Okay, I suppose it makes all our lives easier."
At the end of the vote, there was a tie between two names - John and Lucas.
"Why not use both?"
"John Lucas or Lucas John?"
"Either. Although I like the sound of the second one better."
"So do I."
"Me, too."
There was universal acclamation and Jarod triumphantly ripped the sheet off the tray and handed it to his sister with a mock bow.
"Happy now?"
"Very." She smiled up at him. "Now what?"
"Now - wait and see."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you have planned?"
"Now, now," he patted the top of her head. "Just be patient."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Big brothers can be so annoying," she muttered under her breath.
"Is there anything else, Jarod?"
The Pretender turned to find his father looking at him with an enquiring glance.
"Just one thing, Dad."
Jarod leaned the tray up against the wall and exchanged a small, secret smile with the woman who sat on the other side of the room.
"Sydney...I beg your pardon, Doctor Remarque."
The psychiatrist raised one eyebrow as he looked over at his former protégée and the rest of the room fell silent in astonishment.
"Jarod, what is it?"
"I have a request to make of you."
"Yes?" Sydney's eyes grew wide in bewilderment.
"I wish..." Jarod coughed in mock-nervousness and shuffled his feet to add to the effect. "I wish to ask..."
"Just get on with it."
Jarod made a concerted effort not to giggle as he heard the tone of her voice and avoided catching her eye. "Get on with it," he muttered to himself in a tone that was audible to everybody in the room. "Yes, I should." He straightened up. "Doctor Remarque, I wish to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."
There was a long moment of silence, during which time Jarod was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud and knew, without looking, that Miss Parker was struggling just as much.
"Jarod, are you serious?"
"That's funny." The Pretender tried to look hurt. "That's what she said, too. Am I that hard to believe?"
"No, not at all," Sydney assured him hastily, seeing out of the corner of his eye as Major Charles finally realized how planned the whole situation had been and retreated to a corner of the room to enjoy the joke. "I just wanted to be sure."
"Well, don't leave me hanging, Syd," Jarod deliberately dropped into the most casual tone of which he was capable and, walking over, swept Miss Parker into his arms. "Can I marry her or not?"
"We-ell," Sydney took on a teasing tone in his turn. "I'll have to think about it."
"Any chance of you losing interest while we wait?" He heard her whisper in his ear and he grinned.
"After last night? Not a hope!" His voice was also almost inaudible and only he saw the smile that crept across her face at his response.
"Hmm," the sound from the psychiatrist got everybody's attention. "Well, after serious consideration, taking into account the terrible but malleable character of the young man involved," Sydney's eyes were alight with laughter but his face was perfectly serious, "and the firm, steady character of the young lady in this circumstance, I suppose I am willing for such an engagement to come into being." He stood up and hugged his daughter and future son-in-law. "As long as I can be the first to congratulate the pair of you."
"You lied," Emily stated flatly
Jarod stopped, his mouth slightly open but a light dancing in his eyes. "How?"
"You said..."
"I never said anything!" Jarod stepped over and put an arm around his sister's shoulders. "As I mentioned before, I just didn't deny it. You were the one who built mountains out of molehills, if that's the way the phrase goes."
"And wasn't I right?"
"Regardless of whether you were right or not, you said I lied and I dispute that most sincerely."
"Sibling rivalry?" Ethan stuck his head into the room at this point.
"Not exactly," Jarod waved his half-brother into the room. "Just a little… dispute about who has the better memory."
"In most cases," Ethan grinned at Emily, "I'd put my money on the female. In this circumstance, however..."
She picked up a cushion and, in much the same way as her future sister-in-law had done, threatened to hit her half-brother with it.
"Pax, pax!" Jarod's voice could be heard over the racket. "Enough, already." With a deft hand, he bereft his sister of her weapon and then gently pushed her into a chair facing him before also looking over to meet the eye of his brother.
"I have to know," he began, "do either of you mind at all? That I'm marrying her, I mean."
"Mind that my brother and sister are going to reduce the confusion?" Ethan snorted. "Hardly."
"You, Em?" Jarod's expression contained traces of concern, at the sound of which she threw her arms around his neck.
"I don't mind a bit."
"Very funny, son."
"I thought so, too." Jarod grinned up at his father from her spot on the porch, his arms wrapped around his fiancé as she sat on the step below him. "It took a lot of planning, though."
"I'll bet."
He sat down beside them and the three of them watched the sun slowly sink towards the west.
"We still have work to do."
"I know." Jarod sighed and an expression of sadness came into his eyes that not all of the coming banter would banish. "And none of it will be pleasant."
"Except for the part where you get to see the expression on Willie's face when he realizes you're his new boss."
Jarod looked down at her. "You didn't know?"
"Know what?"
"Willie was killed trying to protect Raines when one of the groups went after him."
"How did you know?"
"I read it in one of the emails. They sent a list of their victims, so that we would know who they were. I assumed you'd read it too."
Maleah shook her head. "I haven't really read any of them. I don't want to." She shuddered and Jarod held her more tightly.
"You don't have to unless you want to."
There was a pause.
"And Sam?"
"Sam is safe. He went to take care of Michelle and Nicholas for me." Sydney's voice stated, and Jarod narrowed his eyes at his future father-in-law.
"How did you arrange that one?"
"I helped."
Jarod looked in astonishment at his father. "I thought I was supposed to be the only one with any secrets in this place!"
The others laughed and then, as darkness began to fall, they got up and went inside together.
He sat up on the bed and glanced over his shoulder to where she was lying. Reaching over, he pulled on his t-shirt and jeans, slipping his feet into the shoes, and then stood up. The door made no sound as he eased it open and stepped out into the hallway, the carpet hiding the sound of his footsteps as he descended the staircase. The front door also made no sound as he eased it towards himself and, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, he wrapped it around his body as he stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness and hush. His eyes, although he tried to fight against it, were drawn to the spot where Lyle had forced him to kneel and where the man had been shot. Somebody, Jarod wasn't sure who but he suspected his father and Sydney, had removed the body and the Pretender had no idea of its current location.
"Why did you promise her?" The whisper was harsh and he fought against the tears that threatened in his eyes. "If you hadn't promised her, you could leave right now and never have to go back there."
He raised his right arm and was about to punch a nearby tree when a hand placed itself on top of his. He looked down and realized that her eyes were full of the tears he wouldn't allow himself to shed.
"Jarod, please. You don't mean that."
"I..."
She slipped close to him and he found himself wrapping both arms around her, holding her close to him.
"Aren't you happy now?"
"I want to be, Maleah, but I don't even know how!"
The first of a stream of tears began to work its way down his cheek.
"I'm a good teacher, Jarod. Let me show you."
"No!" Jarod stepped away from her and she, prompted by some instinct that she couldn't understand, remained where she was.
"Jarod..." Her voice broke and she stood silently. Neither noticed the third person until he was standing beside them, one hand on the shoulder of his daughter.
"All right, Maleah." His voice was audible only to her. "I'll take it from here."
She nodded and, with one tear-filled glance, began to walk back to the house where Major Charles was waiting for her in the doorway.
"I know you're scared, Jarod..."
"Don't!" The Pretender turned away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"So you'd break her heart instead."
"Look," Jarod rounded on the man who stood leaning against a tree with his arms folded, the first rays of the sun lighting his face, "I know she's your daughter..."
"It's not because she's my daughter, or not just because of that fact." Sydney corrected himself. "Even if she wasn't, I would still not want to see you doing what you plan to. Not only because of what it would do to her, but because of what it would do to you, too."
"And what," Jarod tried to make his voice sufficiently sarcastic to dissuade the other man from further discussion. "What would that be?"
"You say you've never been happy; that you don't know how it works," Sydney began. "That may be true. But you've also never been in love - although you may think you have - " Thus he forestalled the Pretender's comments. "And you don't know how that works either. I do. And I know what an impact it would have on you - on both of you."
The young man turned away, pressing his face to a tree and turning his eyes up to the brightening sky. His companion had no need to see his face. He knew that, silent as it was, the hard wooden bark was being soaked with salty droplets.
"He's scared," Charles told her.
She looked up at him, the tears not coming as often, but still slowly seeping out of her eyes. "Of what? There's nothing left at the Centre for him to be scared of. Is he," the thought came suddenly and painfully, "is he scared of me?"
"No, of course not." The father guided her to a chair and placed himself on the other side of the table. "And there is still something at the Centre for him to be afraid of - the past. He's terrified of showing how much it affects him, and especially of showing something like that to you. He'd rather run away, like he's done so often, than have you see that."
"But I'd help him!"
The voice was full of such tender love that the man smiled even as he shook his head. "Don't you see? That's exactly what he doesn't want. This is Jarod we're talking about here. He's strong-willed, determined and always able to deal with the situation himself." The father gave a smile as he outlined the strengths and weaknesses of his son. "At least, that's what he wants to be seen to be. For him to show anybody that he isn't in control of himself is the one thing he doesn't want to have to do."
"So," she sniffed and spoke softly, "what do we do now?"
"We wait," he responded with a kind smile, "until your father has finished talking with him."
"What do you want from me, Sydney? Blood?"
"No, Jarod. Just the truth."
"What right," he spat, "do you of all people have to ask me for the truth? You, along with every other person at the Centre, have done everything in your power to hide that from me for most of my life, until I finally found out about it for myself! You and Parker..."
He stopped, suddenly unable to reconcile the woman he loved with the one who had been pursuing him for so many years.
"That isn't the woman she is now, Jarod, you know that. You're the person mostly responsible for that change. The woman you're angry with now is Mr Parker's daughter, not mine."
"And who are you?"
They were the words he wished unspoken as soon as they came from his mouth, but he could do nothing other than watch their reaction.
"I'm the father of the woman you're in love with. I'm the man who also suffered at the hands of the people you hate. And I'm the person who only ever did what they thought was best for you at the time..."
The voice died away, but Jarod lacked the courage to look up into Sydney's face and see his expression. He never heard the man straighten up and turn away, walking softly over the damp grass towards the house. He only knew that, for a time, he was alone.
